#they had more flavour and depth that made me want to know them and their story

[coolbeanstrees]

The only enjoyable thing about about the war table in dai is when that one quest from Zevran pops up and I get to do a shitty accent as I read it to myself.

Makes me miss him and kinda actively mad that we get almost all over Dao romancables back but him. Let my antivan bastard of a companion meet my inky they would be fucking homies

DaI really isn’t my favourite, can you tell?

[tarotchariotpickyourcard]

PAC: Your unnecessary self doubts

PAC: YOUR UNNECESSARY SELF DOUBT

Hello, I’m back again after a big rest (rest? Focus on material aspects of life? It’s been busy).

Ironically, during Mercury retrograde, I was thinking I should get back on the reading wagon and get out there.

Happy birthday aquarius people, also.

Wasn’t sure what to do straight away, but I saw this idea of mine from a while back and thought, hey, we often doubt ourselves far too much. It can really hurt us in life, and get in the way of what others might think are simple acts or decisions. If you struggle with doubt, worry, or decision making, I see you.

So there we go, we’ll see what the cards want to say. This could be how we expect, or not at all.

We have 3 groups here, and I would like you to breathe deeply a couple times. Try and make sure things are fairly quiet for a minute. You can choose one of these lip balm pots from anything. It could be a favourite flavour, or colour, or a word, or number. You could ask your guides, angels, deities. Do your thing, yo.

From left to right: group 1 - salted caramel. Group 2 - chocolate truffle. Group 3- strawberry sprinkles.

GROUP 1: SALTED CARAMEL

I wonder if you’re detail oriented or observant people here, because I picked the item up and inspected it.

So your self doubts… We have the star, 7 of cups, and 7 of pentacles.

You know, the two sevens here remind me of something I read once. It regarded true love. I wonder, if this comes to mind for me now, does this mean you doubt your ability to obtain, or keep true love in your life?

I also got a sense of slowness. This could be regarding my point above, or general worries that you are slow as a learner, in terms of development, or in work. With this, this could literally be doubts that you would be able to take action on a dream or idea of yours. (I know, cliche, right? They all talk about following a big dream). The fact is, 7 of cups here is allllll about creativity and ideas, but I got the thought block that creativity is bursting out of the seams of you. You have all the ideas, bay-beeeee.

Things happen in their own time, yo. Just like how creative you can be, the universe can be just the same in how it allows life to unfold. Things work, they don’t work, they bring you to something unexpected, they remind you oh yeah I don’t actually want that yeah nevermi-.

You know what I mean?

Now, we have Dress of Alchemy - Release your power.

I see a lot of insecurity bottled up inside, and I feel a lot of pent up anger actually. I feel the need to protect people, or nature. You have ideas no one could ever take on as their own, because it was born from your own unique feelings and experience.

If you fear anyone would take your idea, or think it up before you, I want you to know, the way you would execute it would be so different from what they would ever do, You have value, inherently.

You know those stories, where someone is put down time and time again, and they win or succeed despite it? Ironically, those things are what made the story so much more intriguing and inspiring.

If someone just got up and did something and everyone clapped for them immediately, all the time, straight away with no problem, it wouldn’t be something so… full of depth and connection for others. 

I just keep getting the idea of, hard time in life, put downs, but this is your special story, and your special contribution.

Ps. do you cry when angry?

You don’t think you work hard enough? Have you seen what you’ve had to traverse through, pal?

Angel of time - working too hard.

With 7 of pentacles, this is too perfect.

I feel like there’s some unnecessary self doubt surrounding this because you appear to take a lot on, or think over many different things or have multiple priorities in mind. So when you think you’re being slow, in reality, you’re using a lot of brain power and generally completing many things long term.

Pps. you probably need a break. You deserve rest. With the power card, I wonder if you need to express the word “no” to others a bit more.

YOUR time, YOUR pace, YOUR journey.

It’s special, I know it sounds weird, but we need it. We need to see it, and you. I feel like it helps people to see something, about life, about themselves. You don’t have to air your life out, or blog, or anything, it’s about people who connect with you, every day. Any day.

Everything is going to happen at the perfect time for you. There is nothing wrong with you, everything is right with you. In the most cliché ending I can muster: Trust in the universe. Trust the timing. I can guarantee you won’t be disappointed. Trust yourself, too, and your development pace, both personally and professionally.

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GROUP 2: CHOCOLATE TRUFFLE

I got the energy here firstly while I picked the cards of “that’s it. I’m not going to ask for more and more, or go over it. That’s it.”. Perhaps this means there’s an emphasis here of needing to, or learning to, leave things be, not worrying as much when something is done.

So we have 2 of wands, ace of wands, 4 of cups, and the tower. How interesting. I got the thought about worrying about mixing things up. 

2 of wands can be about decisions, ace of wands is taking action definitively and in a passionate, direct way. But 4 of cups here talks about disinterest, and I got the word denial. Do you deny yourself your passions? Projects, hobbies, job or study opportunities? The tower is like saying “I shouldn’t, I’ll only mess it up.” or these cards saying “why would this employer or whoever be interested in me anyway”.

You should do the thing anyway! Stuff gets messed up in all sorts of quirky ways, the world is a ball in space and us humans have literally made society up out of our imaginations. Crazier stuff could happen, so what the hey!

Don’t allow yourself to feel unhappy or bored for a minute longer if there’s something you know could help it.

There’s also a branch meaning here as well of finding it hard to choose between options because what's the point if it doesn’t work out. The point is you get out there and develop in a new way, whether short lived or not. You’re here to live, my amigo.

If you’re worried about disaster, the real disaster would be not giving yourself a chance. Don’t shoot yourself down before you’ve even made a decision. Or before anyone even has the chance to.

Sea beacon fairy - Guidance: but where will it lead you?

You-wha-what did I just SAY?! Just do the things! You might be right, you might be wrong, sometimes you’ve just gotta see. I feel like your guide wants to like, SHAKE you, this is hilarious to me.

The point isn’t to be RIGHT. It’s to experience, and your guides or those in spirit you connect to, want to assure you right here, that they will assist in making things the most pleasing it can be.

And if something does ever go pear shaped, what’s that friends reference? “PIVOT!” ?

Then we’ve got the three witchy sisters - The power of three.

Are you worried something bad would happen again? Or that you would make an ill fitting decision after having one happen before? You must trust yourself. Give yourself the chance, to prove to yourself, that you can make a good one. And if you feel you didn’t go for something you should have, perhaps there can be another chance. Let yourself have this chance, what ever it is for you. Study related, relationship related, work related, anything.

Don’t hold yourself back. You can trust you, and spirit has your back too. If things move and shake, let them, and take the next moment.

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GROUP 3: STRAWBERRY SPRINKLES

Do you worry about having fun, or if you’re fun enough? I just suddenly felt a little joy.

I feel a bit clearer with this group than the others, so I wonder if you’ve been trying to actively raise your confidence lately. I also find myself shuffling the cards quite harshly, so there’s a lot of energy and force here. This might mean something such as feeling the need to put their all in things to prove themselves, or you’re the type of person that really cares about what they do.

You can’t leave things alone, can you lol. I didn’t get a card for a bit and felt more forceful about getting it to happen. I feel like you’re being advised already to be more easy going.

Accident prone gang here?

2 of cups, queen of pentacles, and 7 of wands.

This makes me think of connections, but also boundaries. The queen reminds me of practical matters such as upkeep of the home, management of money.

This gives me thoughts of partnership, or family/home matters. With my original impression and 2 of cups, it does suggest to me that you worry about being able to make friends or connections as well as if people might like you.

This makes me feel that it’s unnecessary, because I see like… bubble popping. You know when you destress by getting bubble wrap and doing that? It’s like you’re that for other people.

I get the self doubts regarding keeping things in order. Being pragmatic. Maybe you also worry that you’re not strong enough, or that you might be seen as a pushover. However, with the queen of pentacles I really feel that this is your energy. Someone who is more firm, but still helpful and still there for others.

I get the sense of feeling tired or dizzy. Are there worries regarding health or the maintenance of a condition?

There are people you can count on, it appears, if this is the case. 

Mildew fairy - clean up time

Fairy of the divine hand - intoxication, distorted view, overindulgence

There may be a couple here who literally have struggled with intoxication. Addictions and so on, and there may be self doubt here about your ability to get clean of whatever it is, to begin, or to keep clean.

There is reassurance here, that you have seen more of yourself much clearly. No, you are not ruined. You are your own unique individual with your own quirks of life. Much like a cat that has a missing piece of its ear, you become aware that they have fought. And that is it - a history.

For others, this might literally be about being able to keep your home clean, or your body clean health wise. Perhaps there is anxiety about health in general. This could be like still asking for a 3rd examination, after being told something is fine.

For any of these scenarios here, you guys are doing better than you think you are, and a lot of it is due to the fact you have more self awareness than you think. I believe you are especially hard on yourselves. You are holding yourselves to higher standards than before, and for that, I see pride regarding you from spirit.

You are doing better than you think, and you CAN do better than you think.

Faceless ghosts and the haunted girl - ghost people.

You worry something will come back and take over? You have grown too much.

Even if the person, thing or situation does try and return, know you can refuse it. You can handle a situation or concern much better, and with far more education.

I feel you guys have opened your eyes so much.

There are some here that may have mediumship skills also, because the boundary point I made can connect to protecting yourself spiritually. There are many techniques you can use such as cleansing your home, using an energetic shield of white light, calling on archangel Michael to protect you, and much more. 

I can't help but think you might be wondering, is there something you're missing, what am I not seeing. But I think you guys know everything you need to. Please try not to get paranoid. You're doing great.

I feel like this is a very “know thyself” group. Trying to ensure they don’t make a mistake again, or that they manage things more wisely. You have support, it might not seem like it for some of you, but there are 1 or more out there who think kindly of you. You have a lot going on inside that brain of yours, let yourself step out of it a minute and experience life. Take the walk, enjoy a healthy meal, listen to music you connect with. SMELL THE FLOWERS. Something like that.

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Ok thanks bye hope it made sense.

[oshiawaseni]

My sibling, who is an anime only said they would not be surprised if BKDK became canon considering the depth of their relationship, their interactions, and their character development regarding each other ... despite how Bones added in Izuocha scenes and cut out some critical BKDK moments in most of the seasons so far... And, seeing how one-sided the "love" is between Izuocha, which I believe is deep admiration as of reading the manga- I have to say I agree.

Izuocha, is fine on the surface but is unhealthy. Izuku would not pay attention to Ochaco they he would need to if they were in a relationship. And Ochaco only saw "Hero Deku" rather than all of "Izuku", which would cause her to unknowingly encourage Izuku's reckless self-sacrificial behavior.

BKDK is different because not only they know each other beyond the surface level, but they also have their sights on each other and the mere presence of their partner inspires them to become better and stronger people at heart because they have genuine love for each other...

I honestly do not understand what is in the Dudebros' mind other the fact that they are lacking emotional intelligence and critical thinking... but I will just enjoy what they are missing. (Sorry for rambling...)

Hi anon! Sorry it took me a bit to get back to you (reason in tags). Let me just reply to your ramblings with some ramblings of my own :)

I actually really enjoyed Season 6. The only thing I faulted Bones for, was creating that jarring opening that made out like Ochaco was the hero of the retrieve vigilante Deku mission (which sadly only fueled izuochas more on mhatwt), when it was 1000% Katsuki's doing and there is one panel which proves this beyond a shadow of a doubt.

See this? Who is the one standing in front of Shoto and Tokoyami, addressing the whole class? It's Katsuki! Not Ochaco! She was seated with everyone else. This is why it's so frustrating when they say she was the reason Izuku was brought back to U.A. That arc was all about Katsuki's feelings for Izuku and wanting to return his smile.

He was even so worried he lost sleep over it, wondering where Izuku was, if he was okay… he must have stayed awake in bed, thinking and thinking about Izuku and how he could get him back. Katsuki was used to Izuku being by his side, and it was the first time Izuku had willingly left it. It provided him clarity about how important* Izuku was in his life, which only made him worry even more. (*see also: crucial, vital, imperative, watch me emotionally die slowly inside if you aren't around me anymore.)

Katsuki losing sleep, at a time Izuku was not sleeping was such a symbiotic soul mates power move Hori added in for flavour. I love it SOOO freaking much. There are no lengths this man won't go, to prove how in sync they are with each other, how much they need each other, the empathy they share with each other, even on a completely spiritual level where they share in each other's sufferings, *without even knowing it* such as right here, just like Katsuki wants to share all of Izuku's burdens so that he's not crushed by them.

But with that said, though Bones really dropped the ball on the opening (and 5 previous seasons...*ahem*), there were a lot of curious changes that happened in season 6 that I did love, like Izuku dropping the "tachi" in his sentence which turned his line into "He hurt the person I love…" (instead of people)

and as we saw more of these additional changes Bones made, it got us wondering, did Hori have some regrets with the manga that he was unhappy about and wanted their romance to be more obvious? Was it only natural to get anime viewers up to speed before season 7, because they were going to find out through manga spoilers that Katsuki and Izuku are actually in love? I'd like to think so.

Changes I remember off the top of my head:

Reaching out for little Izuku's hand during Katsuki Bakugou Rising

Katsuki waking up and thinking "Deku…" and remembering his Rising sacrifice and being still hurt from it.

Izuku waiting until he was in Katsuki's arms before he apologised, which made their words of "I'm sorry" and "I know" more intimate and personal to each other. Like Izuku needed Katsuki's forgiveness the most, and Katsuki needed to let Izuku feel that he understands him the most.

Izuku's little "Ka-..." (the English dub did not catch it but I know other dubs did) as he was passing out, which made the entire hug scene feel so much more romantic.

"I'm gonna say your name when I wake up" vs "I'm gonna say your name when I fall asleep." BkDk: Always on each other's minds. All the time.

And one of the most interesting changes of all…

So get this, Ochaco gets a hand hold grab in the opening which canon-wise holds about as much weight as an "illustration" … and in the actual anime content, she grabs his wrist area instead of his hand like in the manga. Making her hand hold IN THE CANON CONTENT so impersonal. Almost as if to make up for the horrible opening they made. Why this was done still remains a mystery to us today… but I hope it's because Horikoshi asked them to make Izuocha stop being seen like a couple, and more like the friends they are.

And then, about the "brothers" "friends" comments antis love to make about bkdk. Well yeah, they're coping. In fact, Hori has shied away from labeling them friends several times when he could have! "Midoriya-kun is our friend" says Iida - with multiple people from the class, including Ochaco, presented in the panel… and Katsuki is nowhere to be found.

Or like when sAFO called Katsuki "Izuku's closest person" (motto mo naka ga ii) where it would have been WAY more natural to call him "shinyu," aka, "best friend." But that's the thing, Hori runs away from calling them friends like it's the plague LMAO

Really makes you wonder… was sAFO (I'd rather just call it AFO at this point because it's his personality being dominant vs Katsuki) alluding to hidden romantic feelings Izuku hides for Katsuki that his secret gaydar quirk picked up? Could be. In a way, at the time it happened, it felt to me like Horikoshi himself was talking to us through him, telling us very explicitly, "You're damn right. They're gay."

Either way, skirting around this label for them is being done on purpose by Hori. Like his hidden way of saying "Yeah they might be acting a bit more like the best friends they were always meant to be as kids, but their feelings for each other are not 'friendly' AT ALL. Because platonic friendship is not where these two are headed." And there are STILL hidden feelings they haven't managed to say to each other yet! The content Horikoshi has been itching to draw for YEARS that he is finally getting to. All that soft bkdk romance we've been waiting for is coming SO SOON!!! and I am HERE for it anon! 🔥

2023 will forever be known as the year of BkDk canon... these are very exciting times. <3

[zedortoo]

Pizza Autism: the novella

Pizza Tower autism and/or ADHD headcanons go go go!!!!

warning there is. So much under the cut. I go off about everyone's tism

Peppino:

-Middle aged man autism. Ohh my god this guy is so autism we're starting off strong

-Most of his stims are physical and are probably. Not the most healthy (biting, banging wrists together, hair pulling etc)

-He has arfid frfr! Despite being a chef he's very careful about what he eats, however most italian foods are safe foods for him.

-Struggle showing empathy, even if he feels it. Yall saw how he reacted to Gerome mourning John he was out of his depth 😭

Gustavo:

-gnome autism.

-poor dude can't understand sarcasm to save his life. Also really bad at comprehending deeper meanings and stuff... Honestly me too Gustavo. Me too.

-actually gets overstimulated really easily. he grew up in a place similar to the gnome forest in the tower, where the air was always somewhat humid. If there's a dehumidifier running anywhere he can practically sense it and will immediately get upset bc he is too dry 💔

-His stims are mainly vocal (i.e. "I'm going to kill you") but he also likes to bounce on the balls of his feet and rock back and forth!

Mr Stick:

-French autism

-Hes not actually a huge asshole all the time, SURE he can be blunt and come off as rude but most of the time the mean persona is a mask. His really close friends know he's just a weird dude

-(stole this idea from Olympe) He is a routine lover!! Has his entire day planned out as soon as he wakes up. If you get in the way of his routine you will be turned into an ambiguous ball of meat. He was SOOOO pissed off when he got stuck in the tower bc it's wasn't in his routine so he robbed the whole damn place out of malice

-Innapropriate reactions to sensetive situations. If he had to comfort someone it would be Joever for him.

-Represses most stims because he thinks he's embarrassing. When in private though he'll spend ages examining textures and smelling paper (I do this all the time it's so fun). Occasionally when he's tired or comfortable he'll let out a high pitched squeak that noone can believe came from that middle aged man.

-I could go on with more. I love talking about this cunt.

Pepperman:

-Capsicum autism.

-Also has inappropriate reactions to things. Has no vocal control either half of the time he doesn't realize he's yelling

-Has a habit of chewing on/wanting to taste everything. Ate several wardrobes worth of Polly pocket clothes as a kid probs. Has to physically stop himself from giving his art supplies a taste. Occasionally eats an eraser still.

-If someone reorganizes his shit they WILL be killed this dude knows exactly where everything he needs is he has his own fucked up system

-Mainly uses stim toys. Has a collection of high end custom made ones but is too afraid of wearing them out so he chews on a toy dog bone instead and it's mangled to BITS

Vigilante:

-Cheese autism.

-This dude has know idea what autism actually is. He knows he's different compared to a lot of people, but he's never had the right word for it.

-Strong sense of justice. If something is wrong he WILL set it right. He got super upset when he realized Peppino wasn't actually an outlaw and he had tried to kill an innocent dude

-HATES HATES HATES processed foods. says he can taste the chemicals.

-Doesnt really stim in public. He'll tap his boot or spin the barrel of his gun if he gets really overstimulated but he much prefers to just pet some of his farm animals until he feels better

Noise:

-Rat autism!!

-This dude constantly needs to be overstimulated he loves it. If things are too quiet he gets super upset and starts bouncing off the walls and shit

-HATES the texture of carbonated drinks but forces himself to drink them because the flavour is worth it.

-Hes has like, three masks on at all times. There's the feral showbiz fella we all know and love, then beneath that is a more controlled businessman type, and beneath THAT is another, slightly less feral rat man.

-goes semi verbal sometimes. Everything just gets tangled up in his mind and he can't spit out the words he wants. He hates it when this happens during a show.

Noisette:

-Bunny autism!!!

-classic weirdgirl type. Would totally read warrior cats and roleplay as a cat on the playground as a kid.

-Also really bad with understanding emotions. You have to tell her specifically if she's upset you or something otherwise she just will not realize.

-makes a lot of vocal stims. Mainly just little beeps and stuff (I like to think she'd make that one jerma substitute teacher noise. Does anyone know what I'm talking about) Also loves to rock back and forth!!

-Has texture issues. She personally disposed of all the Sherpa fleece in the tower.

Fake peppino:

-autism supreme.

-like fr this dude is just the embodiment of autism. it eats vaccines to get more autistic/j

-cant understand when it's making someone upset. Actually, similar to Noisette, is bad at perceiving negative emotions overall.

-mirrors a lot. I mean that's like an integral part of their character. They mainly take after Peppino but will start acting like someone if he's around them long enough.

-melts into a puddle when overstimulated. Honestly? I wish I could do that too.

-Mainly mirrors stims from friends. It freaked everyone out when they started repeating Gustavo's catchphrase.

Pizzahead:

-PIZZA AUTISM!!!

-horrible moral compass this dude will do anything she wants and genuinely won't see what's wrong with it. Case in point the whole of pizza tower

-used to mask her true silly self a lot to be considered more 'normal' but decided normal ppl were boring as hell and dropped the charade

-arfid haver!! Loves pastries and breads and stuff, basically refuses to eat anything else. Has a personal vendetta against cantaloupe and has vowed to destroy it all bc he hates it soooo much

-taps his foot as a stim!! Also likes to jump around and the like, will rapidly shake their fists if incredibly excited

Gerome:

-Rock autism

-This guy loves his own company. Sure, he'll happily be social, but drops the mask as soon as he's alone. Just likes to be alone!

-Also not big on touch. The only person who's allowed to lay a finger on him is John, if anyone else just like. pats him on the back he will freeze up.

-loves being a janitor because the job is mostly repetitive. He cleans each floor in his own order, he has it all sorted out!

-loves bath bombs and stuff. Really likes the smells and just the fizz and the way they crumble in his fingers. Sometimes he'll just throw one in the sink and watch it for ages

-makes this weird clicking noise in the back of his throat as a stim. It's a rather unsettling noise but it's really the only way he stims in public. When alone he likes to feel textures of different things

John:

-hivemind autism!

-I feel bad for this dude man imagine having your being spread out through several different pocket dimensions and all of them have different textures and shot this poor bugger must've been overstimulated for years

-very blunt. Says what he wants with no remorse. Also doesn't have any volume control so often doesn't realize he's yelling

-I imagine when he was resurrected and was no longer a hivemind he had to take a long time alone just being himself. Duuuude imagine having to mask for YEARS because you were never ever alone I would lose my fucking marbles

-opposite of his brother, he doesn't understand personal space. Will often accidentally get I'm ppls faces because he doesn't realize how close he is to them. This also makes him somewhat clumsy and he has a habit of running into things

-Mainly has facial/expression stims. Will pull a big ol' grimace if something goes wrong and grin like an idiot when happy (see: when he got revived)

[caffeine-clouds]

What Your Favourite Sonic Ship Says About You! (Part 1)

(Sonamy, Sonadow, Sonally) FULL DISCLAIMER: Shipping is a hot topic of debate, but this post is lighthearted fun! I'm a multi-shipper, I love most of these ships - and I can see why some people like the dynamics that I might not. This is not a bashing post, this is fun time. So, without further ado- Sonamy

You appreciate the simpler things in life. You decided to ship the protagonist with the main girl character just like 90% of all media writers, it's just what you're comfortable with. In terms of fanfiction tropes, do you happen to enjoy childhood sweethearts, meet-cutes, soulmates - that type of thing? I just had a feeling... Either way, you're just here for the cute vibes and the pining - and who can blame you? You probably really liked the fact that when you first came across the ship that it was the girl of the pair being the one so forward with her romantic feelings. But as time has gone on - you're either one of those people that really miss that side of Amy, or you're one of those that are so dang grateful they've toned her down. Either way, it's safe to say that this is one of the most vanilla of Sonic ships - and that's not an insult, vanilla is a good ice cream flavour. But no one is really going to fight you on your opinion other than the 5% of remaining toxic Sonally shippers, and those people that are somehow still living in the Sonic Heroes era. Sonadow

You saw that Sonic and Shadow's rivalry has been going on for far longer than 7 years, so it must be gay - and honestly, I can't fault your logic. You're a sucker for two disasters who can't express their feelings, and you have just determined that fighting is simply their love language. Even with Shadow's limited screen time in Prime, you suck every single dang crumb you're given like a vacuum. And by the way, you definitely have an Ao3 account - don't try and hide it. We already know you're a sucker for enemies/rivals to lovers... and I'd also wager you enjoy just-one-bed. Also you like that thing where characters constantly call each other by a nickname, and only end up calling them by their actual name during a confession scene or when one of the characters is seriously injured. I dunno, just had a hunch you'd like that sort of thing. You are debating between two sides of yourself - part of you wants Shadow's old characterization back where he was a more in-depth character and showed Sonic more respect, but part of you also loves how so damn obsessive Shadow is in modern games over Sonic and how much he wants to fight him - because that at least implies that Sonic is on Shadow's mind literally most of the time. But when all is said and done, this is vanilla when it comes to gay ships in the Sonic community. It's too damn easy, it's why it's the most popular Sonic ship on Tumblr. This ship was made for the LGBTQ+ community. Sonally

Opposites attract is your go-to, and it's been tried and tested - the formula works, I see it. You strike me as the person who really cares about canon material, and you tend to steer away from a lot of fanon. I also have a strong feeling you're a Sonic fan that's on the older side, back when SatAM and Archie were at their peak and considerably more popular. It's a ship with all the things you need to be happy - the characters have a deep, long-lasting bond, it's a sweet ship, and the two have constrasting personalities - so it doesn't get stale for you. You're probably into similar tropes as the Sonamy shippers - but you enjoy more drama and spice to your fanfics, and you won't shy away from angst - Archie loved its angst, I know you enjoyed that shit. You're either content with all the Sonally content you've gotten over the years, and will occassionally look at fanarts. Or you're one of those people who will not let the Archie comics go, you are still in denial - you are begging for Sally's return into the series and you're hoping now that Ian Flynn is writing for the games, that your dreams might just become a reality.

[awriterparacosm]

The End

When you are born in a burning house, you think the whole world is on fire, but it’s not. If anything, knowing what I did now, I wanted nothing more than to distance myself from my past. To cleanse myself of such negativity and pain that burned to the depths of my soul. I tried to not think of Julian and what happened to him, the event that turned my once religious family away from God and the church altogether. I liked to think that mom still truly believed, she was just hurt. Oftentimes, people who were hurt lashed out at those who didn’t deserve it. I myself found it hard to grieve in the face of a world that moved on as quickly as it did, but perhaps that’s how things were meant to be. We are designed to be robust, to get through everything. To forgive and forget, to put things in the past and move forward with a clean slate.

These were my thoughts as Kaia stepped into our shared apartment, removed her drenched coat and hung it over the back of a chair in the kitchen. The weather outside was howling and thundering, wreaking its wrath unto the world which was much akin to my mood. Kaia picked up on it immediately, pouring us each a glass of wine and taking her seat close beside me. Without hesitation, I took the glass from her and consumed its contents. “You really aren’t in a good mood today are you? I told you that you shouldn’t have given up smoking for lent,” she said. She was right to an extent. I was in desperate need of a cigarette, especially after the conversation with my parents. “I spoke to my parents again,” I said casually, taking another healthy sip of my wine. It had a fruity flavour and was smooth, a direct contrast to the cheap wine used for communion, especially if the budget was tight. “They’re still not coming? I’m sorry, Rafe.” I shrugged my shoulders indifferently, there was little I could do and I wouldn’t force them to attend my ordination. I would pray for them instead.

What happened next had my nerve endings on edge. Kaia placed her hand over my knee, slowly tracing her fingers along the inside of my thigh. I caught her hand swiftly as it inched up, halting its movements immediately. Our eyes locked and I could see her hazel hues sparkling from the wine and something perhaps more playful. She was captivating in all the right ways but I was on the cusp of my ordination. She knew as well as I, the vows I needed to take, that while we’d engaged in consensual sex before, this was not something that could keep happening and yet when she pressed her mouth to mine, I felt the call of the void. “L'appel du vide,” I said, breaking our kiss. “Tomorrow I will become a priest. I’ll never look into your eyes again.” “Then let this be the last time,” she said and all words were forgotten between us.

She made light work of my trousers, taking her place on her knees before me. Although it didn’t mean anything to me, I believed that love was a sacrament meant to be taken kneeling. My head fell back against the sofa and I basked in the sensation of her lips and tongue. I fought my own suffering and perhaps brought it on as the wanting came in waves. If this were to be my last night, I would make it worthwhile. On this last night we tore into each other, teeth biting, lips kissing. The only sounds to be heard were our combined heavy breathing and groaning as I moved deep inside of her. Kaia was especially loud during sex and I put my fingers in her mouth to silence her as we transcended into that next place.

The time had come and all my plans were slowly falling into place. After today, I would be recognised as a priest and formally take over from father Paul who had reached a point in his life where he needed to step down from mass. He would still remain involved in the administration of the church but would take a more reserved role due to his age. I was lucky to be in the position I was in, and I found myself thinking of it all as I stepped into the church to attend mass in my ceremonial garb for the ordination ceremony. I wore a white tunic with a violet stole that hung loose around my neck. I could feel every eye on me as I took my seat besides Kaia. Normally I would sit with family till I was called, and a small part of me hoped my parents would change their mind and attend after all, but I couldn’t allow it to affect me. My mind needed to remain strong and unbending. Mass was over in what felt like a few short minutes and before I could think, the ordination process had begun. I was called forward and accepted by Father Paul and then the bishop. The people in the congregation affirmed my election by applause which was followed by the profession of a homily. I remained as calm as I could in the house of God as the bishop recited his prayer along with what was expected of me as a candidate. I knelt before the bishop, his hand upon my head as he along with the congregation prayed once more and called upon the Holy Spirit. The bishop performed the ancient right of anointing of the hands which symbolised that I was now a servant to the people of God and I would from this moment forward lead them.

Following mass I had many people from the congregation come and congratulate me on my acceptance into the priesthood, a long conversation with Father Paul and the bishop but the only people I really wanted to congratulate me were the ones who brought me into this world and they weren’t here. To rest was to receive all aspects of the world without judgement, and before Kaia could come over and congratulate me herself, I slipped out of the church, wasting no time as I ran to my truck and navigated through the stormy weather of the garden district of New Orleans. I didn’t know what I would say to my parents yet, I just knew that I had to see them. It didn’t matter that I was still in ceremonial garb, I needed to do this for me. I needed to say what I’d been itching to say for a long time. Words that I had pushed deep down within myself to keep the peace, but when I arrived at my old family home, I found blue lights flashing and two police trucks parked outside. I raced up the porch steps to be stopped by the police, but when I affirmed who I was, it became clear there was a new lead uncovered into the death of my older brother Julian.

[museenkuss]

I don't vape or smoke but stereotyping and speaking down on others who do is incredibly immature (and very unattractive). the whole point of vaping was to help people get off of cigarettes. and on top of that, you don't know if they're vaping cannabis oil for health reasons or if they're using organic eliquid as a safer alternative to quit smoking. romanticizing cigarettes is making kids think smoking is cool again and creating a new generation of nicotine addicts just for the "aesthetic"

We're talking about two different things. I don't really care whether people think I'm unattractive based on my posts (we can never escape the wish to be liked, but I try to keep the inner censor when it comes to that to a minimum), but I do want to make it clear what it meant, since there is a large chunk of background info (aka my broader belief system) missing from that post. I'll try to summarise it as best I can:

firstly: You're right in sending this message. Reading my post back made me very upset, especially the "addicted" part is really gross. I knwo what I meant but reading it back without the context of what I was thinking at the time really made me disgusted with myself, too. So thank you for making me come back to it.

Re: smoking cigarettes as an aesthetic (instead of vaping (=the topic my post was about)). I don't think smoking in any way, shape or form is cool. Growing up in the 2000s, I was influenced heavily both by the last traces of the pro-smokers aesthetics (chic skinny bitches smoke instead of eating, cool rebels smoke to rebel) and the rising anti-smoking movement (smoking will kill you, your loved ones and your pets slowly and painfully). Conclusion: again, I'm anti-smoking (I've been around enough chain-smokers to be), but the last glamour of cigarettes stuck to me, too. So, cigarettes as an aesthetic concept still have an appeal to me. But my opinion of "this is gross and you're childish for thinking it's cool" still applies. I don't agree with a lot of "I'm so sexy for smoking" content on here, but I might still reblog photos etc that involve cigarettes/smoking. Complicated situation, not what the post was about though.

On to what the post was actually about: Vaping is of course a healthier alternative to smoking cigarettes. Of course that's what it was intended for - or at least that's what companies say it's intended for. My personal opinion is that in the wake of the asbeforementioned anti-smoking movement of the 00s, smoking has become increasingly less cool and/or accepted (good.) and companies had to find other ways to make money. Making a device they can sell as healthier alternative is a good move. To then go ahead and make those products extremely appealing to children is also a very smart move. You can get money from people you previously got addicted to cigarettes AND you can groom a new generation of nicotine addicts by selling them blueberry muffin-flavoured vapes. Do I know for sure that that was the plan? No. Do I find it despicable that they make candy-flavoured vapes? Yes.

Re: Nicotine addiction. You didn't touch on that in depth, but I want to, because my post could be read in this way as well: People become addicted to things for a number of reasons, a good number of which is them being in some way, shape or form vulnerable. I know this sounds like I'm saying the opposite of what I said just now but I don't think that addiction is shameful. I know it's rich to say "this post wasn't about people with an addiction", but I was more thinking about the concept of smoking for fun and sex appeal.

As in: What I do look down upon and what I find annoying and gross is that smoking is framed as cool. And that's the thing I look down on, that's the embarrassing part. Vapes being an aesthetic. Vapes being chic or trendy. It's devious marketing on one hand and embarrassing behaviour on the other hand. And again, to make it as clear as possible: this is not about people who are recovering from an addiction to cigarettes. This is about teenagers who think they're sexy or businessmen thinking they're savvy for suckling on automated cancer sticks that smell like banana milkshakes. I also see that those teenagers could very well end up being addicts, too. And I need to reframe my mindset here because those children (or businessmen) also deserve respect and help. It's the starting point of someone thinking "this is a really cool thing to do ;)" that annoys me.

I also think about the switch from cigarettes and their image even at the time when it was considered sexy (harmful, stinking, butts everywhere) to vapes and THEIR image (harmful but not as much, so much healthier! smells so good! cool tech!) in regards to what chicness and coolness means. I could go on about this, but I think it's a broader topic, so I'll try to summarise it like this: The switch to thinking something so incredibly sanitised is cool/chic/rebellious to me seems to be saying something about a broader switch in aesthetics. Everybody is beautiful but no one is horny, you're not punk your clothes are from shein, etc. But again, that's something that could be elaborated on in a different context.

To summarise: I don't think smoking of any kind is sexy, this post was taken out of the broader context of my thought pattern and I see how it could be misinterpreted and I'm genuinely sorry if it made someone who's a nicotine addict, recovering or otherwise, feel bad. That was never my intention and it's my bad for writing the post without putting it in a bigger frame. I do, however, think thinking smoking is cool or sexy is embarrassing. I get it a little more with cigarettes due to my background, but still.

[realitys-ex]

I recently finished Brandon Sanderson’s first Secret Project (Tress of the Emerald See), and wanted to share a few thoughts. It came out recently enough that I will put it below the cut to avoid accidental spoilers. (assume full spoilers for anything Sanderson ever wrote)

I really liked it.

The tone was great (though I imagine that many people could find it anoying compared to the other Cosmere books), it really expanded the lore of the Cosmere, while having practically no impact (as far as I can tell it takes place after the projected end of the Cosmere plotline so probably 1 000 years in the future).

It was perfectly self contained to the point that I think it makes a good candidate for an intro Cosmere book. Now I can imagine that that would surprise some people, so I will explain my reasoning: 1) Despite taking place at the end of our timeline, it doesn’t give anything away about any of the stories, except one mention of Sazed. (a mention so brief and so removed from anything that may connect the reader to Mistborn that they would probably forget it, or assume it was a recycled name)

2) It shows the existence of a wider universe in a way that is both enticing and not at all intimidating. Let me expand on that point as I think it is key. For the vast majority of the Cosmere books, the existence of other worlds was hinted at/ easter eggs. If you read all the books, you would know what was going on and be super happy to catch the hint (oh, he poured some dust into his drink and looks slightly different than the native population? Clearly a Misting/ Mistborn!), but if you didn’t read all the books, you wouldn’t feel like you missed anything (oh he poured dust in his drink etc.? Probably sick or likes added flavour, and one of his parents is from another country).

I really liked this method, as it made the entire process feel exclusive, while welcoming new readers to start anywhere without feeling out of there depths.

This changed in the Lost Metal, where there were clear people from off planet using abilities not seen if you hadn’t read everything. And it was presented in such a way that it felt like a deliberate ‘There is more going on than you know, and you are missing all the implications of this scene by not knowing.’

This was partly due to the P.O.V. character for the scenes, who they were attempting to get to join the group and entice with secrets. (Note, I personally don’t like that direction, but I understand why he is going that way)

In TotES they mention stuff coming from other planets, and weird people and magics, but it is presented ‘hey, thats a thing. it’s weird but lots of stuff is weird. don’t worry about it.’ which  is wayyy less intimidating, and makes someone want to learn more from curiosity rather than feeling like they are missing out. Which I think is wonderful.

3) It shows that there  are powerful movers behind the scenes, but kind of points to them being unimportant.

So the cosmere has crazy shit going on behind the scenes, and we all know that, but it is hard to pick up. In this book we see that Hoid, the Dragon, and the Witch all have vaguely important goals, but the main characters don’t really give a shit about them.

TBH this is really a different version of number 2.

But yeah, I like the book, had some issues with it, as I do with literally anything I ever read, but think it was pretty solid! 

(Though tbch, while the art was good, I don’t think the artist made the right choices. A big deal was made of the MC wearing braids but she is never depicted with em, and the pictures all felt romance covery. Though I will admit I have a bias against any art depicting pov characters.) 

[blackvahana]

So you may have seen it's been a hot minute since I talked about the Mira. Well! Well. yeah. well.

À lots been going on, I mean first of all I guess this is how I work 24/7 where I start things and put them back down again because it's either time or not time for things... But also the Kos mask needs to take a huge backseat because I'm more interested in what I am that resonates with this fictional character. I'm so much more interested in the Mother of Eyes than the (fictional character we happen to have a tag for called Mother of Eyes). But the Mira... They're odd. I see them almost like eye floaters, in that they have my specific brand of Madness: they are inside the eyes, inside, moving around like parasites in the vitreous humor. They evolve into what you expect them to be, like my psychosis inducing Madness does - it follows your own line of thinking and tightens the mirrors of your eyes that watch reality until you're looking at yourself withour noticing - they evolve as tiny vision instances and are definitely... atomic particles as the fluctuations in a field comparable to the field of my own existence

I put them down after realising I was seeing them as squid things when they're really ("really") just little points of distortion in reality - and they aren't fully made or birthed, they're usage of the Unborn. Which. Can you fucking tell why this came out attached to the Kos mask? Imagine Kos dragging her beached body around surrounded by floating foetuses that are half recognisable pan-foetus (foetuses for many species look the same), half hallucinogenic squid things blinking in and out of existence like a hoard of bubbles, or eyes... Yeah that was just the shit happening in the astral lmfao. But there's more to us than appearances, which was part of the lesson.

I got a litttllleeee annoyed, for reasons I absolutely have discussed now so you can guess, at the fact that they werent manifested and grounded and real, so I left them alone for a while, but uh. No. They were exactly what they needed to be. There's use in the entire spectrum between Mental and Astral, a good chef knows how to work with breast and thigh but a great one knows how to use all of the chicken, because where would chicken flavoured things the world over be without stock made from bone and discarded meats. They're supposed to be fluctuations and distortions in reality...

The only thing now is the dawning awareness they're, again, fluctuations on a field, and the field is hungry. The field has wants and needs. Like the Flock, they're pecking at my consciousness but in an entirely different way, surfacing like tumours on the brain, worming their way into and out of my skin, talking to me in things like that vision there of them cut up and boiled alive in stew to be eaten. This is all. normal. for how I talk lmfao it's comforting to be able to be myself nowadays, but specifically they convey two things with it: a need to be made into things, selves, to have selves, and they hunger and want to be fed and created and birthed

It's such an odd part of me that they have. It's... Not motherly anymore, it's visceral parenthood in the way of a bloated pregnant pale-like-a-whale body, part fish, part god, part environment itself like if you walked into a server room one day and one of the machines was just a hanging human torso squishy and blending into the machine parts, not distressed, simply existing as it always had.

Lev wanted to create things with me in the way of conception, and I think that's probably why these are surfacing. I'm not... entirely sure on that? They feel like they could be eggs used to birth things into the. my god. we are abyssal today. Birth things into the depths, but I wonder if that's not more an Unborn thing in general rather than the Mira, which seem to be a specific kind of mirror built from the Mercury of Madness.

Either way. They're back. They're hungry. They're really sweet actually they aren't the mechanically chittering laughing corvids of the Flock, they're so much... oh. god. so much like how Lev presents as the ever-watchful foetus in the bottom of the Abyssal depths, wide-eyed, sweet, just waiting. Huh. yeah. I forget we're...... similar

[theredconqueror]

The taste of Lucanis is sweeter and more intoxicating than any wine he has ever known, which he drinks from for as long as he can, the flavour of fragile innocence, of reckless hope, and burning passion which goes all the way down his throat. He wants only to be made to forget, amnesiac ambrosia, to be made weak and stripped of his godhood for just a single night, to live as a mortal just once every thousand years and to find that this existence might be worth the unending suffering. He gives only an affirmative hum to the other's words, and perhaps there is still a shred of pride, or perhaps caution, to allow the blooming of full words. Perhaps it is fear; to show himself as to be something so other as to what the assassin has come to know, and find magnetizing. Lucanis' touch brushes past him, just as the rest of him does. The assassin orbits around the room, its existence as empty as the man who has claimed it. The objects exist like a museum of what someone might thinks a person would live like. His eyes flicker to and fro like beach waves as the other moves around. There is little scattered about, even less that might be considered personal; in a moment he could pack up what he needs and disappear into the traces of the Fade like a ghost. Lucanis has kept him here, tangible, with his gaze, and his words, and his touch. Holds him and keeps him from escaping. But until when might the Crow tire of trying to claw at running water? He already has greater regrets that would eclipse whatever tragic end would suffocate their tale. What is another regret, compared to the world-ending ones he has already suffered? It would only be a regret of his if it became one for Lucanis; if he hurt him, irreparably. Any hurt of his own... is inconsequential. He is all rot, after all. Already dead. "Maybe you only think you would because it would remain unknown." But there are greater regrets than merely being left to wonder about a cut string of fate. Lucanis comes back, mercifully, and places a hand on his heart, or where it might be if sin hadn't replaced it with decay. He lets out a shallow breath, his hand pressing over the other's, and he doesn't even need to will the crystallized organ to beat as a mortal man's because the other's words bring it to life all on their life. They are foolish, romantic notions that he hopes for the other's sake are untrue, but oh, he could hear them again a thousand times. Lucanis thinks he is some divine reward for a lifetime of suffering but he knows that he is a punishment. A curse come calling, blood deep, blood poison. His heart thumps with irregularity; a doctor might call it sick. He is; diseased with want and weakness. Lucanis means to kill him with tenderness, so far from the quick, painless death that he had once asked the other for long ago. It is slow and rips him apart at the atoms, as he once did to himself, a violence done at the edge of the abyss. Lucanis begs him again: please. Before, he'd been able to keep himself from giving in and he feels wounded in every way that could matter. A non-believer whose touch scalds him as if it were drenched in holy water. His free palm presses against the other's heart, as the force of it pushes the other a step back, where his spine and shoulder blades would find themselves trapped against the hard wood of the closed door. One should fear praying to a god on a whim, risking getting an answer: "I'm here, Lucanis..." His mouth captures the other's like hot seal upon an envelope, closing the doubts that his body could take him anywhere further than where the assassin's arm would be able to reach him. "Be good to me and I won't ever let you drown," he promises, but is it a promise when it has been proven already? His hands pulled him from red algae depths and bone shores, abomination bound and octopus ink contract. His hand presses rib cage deep, the wall of bruising. "What do you want from me right now..." He whisper as his mouth slips down to his neck, where he once pressed steel to it, and gave mercy... he will give it again...

A drip of melancholy like sunlight rippled across oil-slick rain puddles, quiet but not at all concealed; the scent of an overcast morning, petrichor in the warming air as birds stretch over the distant horizon. This is the solitude that clings to the other's crumbling form, a flavor that's easy to partake in. Even easier to smother, he thinks, with each point of contact pushed further than the last. Talk them out of it? Preposterous, Spite seethes offended. A vitriol he agrees with while being watched, studied, and pulled apart in delicate, fibrous pieces by those ocean-moon eyes. Equally seen and stripped bare, or perhaps even more so as Lucanis comparitively commands no magic to peer into the flow of one's veins — armed with nothing but physical, effusive touch. Hands shifting, moving to attempt to hold close what is, essentially, his north star, he kisses Valrys with equal fervor. He sinks. Deep and senseless. Pours every droplet of his affection from a reservoir forced to be kept empty for so many years, and parts with a quiet noise — low and throaty and utterly, terribly besotted at that moment. "I shall endeavor to make you forget them in full, then," he murmurs, pupil oxytocin-wide. Sweet empty promises from the mouth of any other, but from him? It sounds earnest, significant as any other vow.

Conversation. That's what they're here for, he's reminded as the question snakes through the air, lingering like smoke. A heavy thing, regret, and the mage reveals how much so with a single breath; even the tallest mountains erode, surely. Imperceptible until one day the cracks become too prominent to ignore. Thumbing at the handsome cut of Valrys' jaw for a few heartbeats, he then steps to the side to grant them both some distance. A blink to control these exorbitant emotions, a semblance of dignity regained as he walks the edges of the room to inspect what few trinkets on display. Were it not for the irreproachable proof of flesh, the lingering sensation of their prior kisses yet swelling his lips, unforgettable as a knife to the throat, then he would think a ghost lived here rather than a man. Not even a thin layer of dust is present on the wood-gloss surfaces.

"I could ask you the same. All my years, and I haven't the chance to regret much because I do not expect very much of the world." Raised as a tool first, a boy second. A weapon molded to be nothing but sharp edges, and yet Valrys keeps uncovering these soft, vulnerable pieces hidden even to himself. "You wouldn't be a regret if we decide to stop it here, but... I believe I would regret doing so." He touches the bound edges of upright tomes, familiar with a few of their titles. Texts read to him over the course of long, sleepless nights. A sign of care, something almost taken for granted.

A year underwater. Would it be damning if he confessed that it felt no different than the years of his life before the Ossuary?

He turns, and the aquarium's glow casts the room jade and blue. Approaching Valrys again, behavior flighty without intending to be as such, he pauses. Places a hand on the other's chest, barely able to feel the other's pulse. "If it means meeting you, then I would go through it again." It, he says evenly, encompassing every known cruelty he's ever faced. "A foolish notion." Absurd, even. "And yet... Can't I want you? Can't I want more of you and feel happier for it? Please." And this time, he knows exactly what he's asking for, whispering that name with the following breath. We know to expect. Love with. Pain. It's only one we know.

[iammionmi]

Don't you look at me in that tone of voice!

Firstly, for anyone who caught yesterday's little offering.....hi! I made it, here I am, Mrs Consistency in the making!

Just needed to get that one out there before diving into musing on a topic/subject/lesson which has been preoccupying me for some time, namely acceptance. Outrageous Acceptance.

I know, I know....but please don't look at me like it's a dirty word, because as uncomfortable as this one is, it can be all the difference. It can be the deciding factor in one's future, one's happiness, one's ability to face the world and keep going.

The problem is that acceptance is one of those character traits that is developed by, well, by enduring those 'character-building' trials and tribulations that make acceptance necessary!

....which means that the development of OUTRAGEOUS ACCEPTANCE has necessitated a whole load of unacceptable things to happen in my life to teach me depth upon depth of how acceptance goes.

and in my opinion that sucks. big time! What perhaps sucks more is that my reluctance to accept certain things in my life has only prolonged the misery and that if I had maybe managed to integrate this life lesson in a more timely manner, I wouldn't be sitting here having just turned 40, once again reassessing the derelict landscape following my previous attempt at building a life being razed to the ground. yet again.

You see, I have been here, or somewhere like it more times than I care to think about.....there is far too much to go into and this list is far from exhaustive, just to give you a flavour of my adult life really....from my first domestic violence relationship when I was 17, having my first child born 12 weeks premature due to the violence within that relationship at 18 all the way through failed marriages (3), depression, PTSD, loss of career due to an accident at work injuring my back, domestic violence again 2017-2020 where I was kept in sub human conditions like an animal, and yet again 2021 a brief but terrifyingly violent relationship which also cost me thousands through financial abuse, I have lost my house, my car, my money, my career (debatably my sanity!), am still awaiting CPS clearance to prosecute my ex for the violence in 2021, have had businesses fail, every attempt to re-invent myself or better myself has come to nothing, have had various health complications to deal with and have single parented for most of the 21 years I have been a parent and I have never been an adult without being a parent (my first child is now 21, my two at home are 10 & 11),now suffer from complexPTSD and other trauma issues ....and that's just a fraction of things. I used to drive myself to distraction with how unjust and unfair it was that i was just having to repeatedly suck up things that were unacceptable. That no one would be ok with.....because they're not OK.

SO what's with the acceptance thing? I have been told repeatedly that acceptance (much like forgiveness) is not saying that what happened is OK......so why does it seem like that's pretty much EXACTLY what is being asked of oneself if one is to accept unacceptable circumstance or incidents.

but it's not. I know that now....and this is what makes the kind of OUTRAGEOUS acceptance i find myself practicing today, possible. Acceptance is not saying that what happened is OK. It IS saying that It Happened.

It Happened. That is the reality, nothing and no one can ever change that no matter how much I, or anyone else, may want to. Nothing can make it better because nothing can make it not have happened...i may have ideas of what I think might make it more bearable, might fantasise about how things might have gone, or how a need for validation might be met to help with closure, but nothing can change that it happened. that didn't stop me putting a whole load of time and energy into doing anything and everything I could possibly think of to try to make things be different....or at least not allow them to be real.

sometimes there is no closure, sometimes there is no validation, sometimes it really is a total loss. sometimes all that energy and upset has to be reabsorbed within oneself, and one just has to sit with it. to keep on sitting with it.

in those moments outrageous acceptance is born. acceptance that all that is is, and all that is not is not. no attempt, no desire even, to try to seek relief through the validation of others/the justice system/sweet revenge.

Just a deep knowing that what will come, will come; that what will go, will go: and that after it all I will still be.

...and that will do for me.

[river-bottom-nightmare]

one of tim's absolutely mind-boggling traits, in kon's expert opinion, is that he only likes the bottom part of muffins. he will forever claim they are soft and they are fluffy and he will eat nothing else. kon, on the other hand, only likes the top parts, since that's where all the actual flavour was. so whenever these particular baked goods were in their vicinity, tim ate the bottoms and kon ate the tops. together, they made a whole, unified muffin. if that wasn't fate, kon didn't know what was.

"i haven't had a muffin in a while," tim says. his voice quiet, quieter than it has ever been, but it still rings across the crumbling rock of the sewer.

krypto's flying beside them, unwilling to get his paws wet, but kon is ankle-deep in the muck tracking down luthor's old tech with someone he barely recognizes leading him down the sewer.

(tim could lead him straight to the depths of hell, and all conner would do is cling tight and follow.)

"yeah, i can tell," kon says. "you look skinny. too skinny."

"thanks, mom," tim responds dryly. "i'll be sure to pencil in protein shakes and cupcakes between somehow outsmarting ra's-al-fucking-ghul and bringing bruce back."

the silence that follows carries more weight than tim's presence does, right about now. the water swirls under them, and tim is near silent as he leads. he knows the way intuitively, perfectly, like a dip in the styx with an ankle brace. it's almost like he's been here before.

(thing thing is—the thing is. the thing is tim rattled around an empty house for half his life, a latchkey kid in a shiny tin can. and the other half of the time, his parents' expectations and batman's expectations turned him into a tree about to tip sideways, roots ripped from the dirt. so there were times, more often than kon likes to remember, when tim forgot to grab a bite to eat.)

conner hurries after tim, the sweep of his black cape rendering him near invisible in the dark. "fine. asshole," kon says. "we'll eat muffins when you get back from finding bats. go to a fancy muffin place somewhere in, i don't know, fuckin' keystone city. i'm sure flash knows a place."

"conner—" tim starts, then breaks off.

kon pushes ahead of him to glance at the thick metal locking system on the door. "when you get back," he says firmly. he bets he can open the lock with his ttk faster than tim could pick it. "you said batman is alive and you're gonna find him. so go find him. we'll catch up when you get back."

(there's a couple things kon wants to ask him, more than a couple things. the lock opened softly and smoothly, clear evidence of someone opening it time and time again. tim flinched a bit when kon asked him to take off his cowl, fingers trembling as he undid the safety mechanism and pulled it off his head and fuck, dear fuck, not even his longer hair could hide the burns covering the back of his head. something in his voice broke when he tried to tell kon about what happened with him and cassie, a trembling glasslike thing that didn't seem to be about cassie at all.

but lex was on the loose and tim had a determined clench to his teeth and—not now. when tim got back from his mission, they would split a muffin and make fun of each other's hair and conner would finally tease a smile out of tim's chapped, downturned lips. when tim got back.)

--

action comics 3 just fuckin murders me everytime yall i am not okay

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[cognacdelights]

moonlight rendezvous

the domestic pleasure of indie routledge series masterlist

the later years of indie routledge series masterlist

add yourself to my taglist

summary: it’s jj and indie’s first date night together since the arrival of their daughter and indie is feeling less than herself. however, a romantic walk along the beach after dinner soon has her reassured of just how much jj loves her. 

warnings: swearing. dirty talk. sexual content. unprotected sex. exhibitionism. 

author’s note: this is soooo sickeningly sweet i apologise for that. as always, feel free to leave a reblog or a comment with your thoughts on the chapter! or come talk to me in my ask box! i always love hearing from you guys about your thoughts and all your little headcanons!

It was a big day for the Maybank-Routledge household; both Indie and Tilly had had their six-week health check-up appointments with the doctor. Tilly, whilst still a little sniffly in the tail end of her dramatic cold-like sniffles, had passed with flying colours. She had endured a long list of thorough health checks during an intense appointment — including being weighed and measured, hearing and eyesight tests, heart and lung tests, and a multitude of reflex tests — and had been given the all clear; she was developing within the average rates for babies of her age and prematurity categories. Indie, similarly, received an in-depth check-up and had been given the much-anticipated news that she had fully healed from Tilly’s birth. The brunette siren was back in action, and boy was she about to take full advantage of that fact.

However, all the good news shared aside, it was an even bigger night for Indie and JJ. Tonight, was the very first night in which Tilly would be left with someone other than Indie or JJ — albeit only for a couple of hours and with trusted and self-proclaimed favourite uncle John B and his long-term girlfriend, Madi. It was, nevertheless, a huge step in their parenting journey. In celebration of Indie getting the all clear to return to their very active and flavourful sex life, JJ had had made reservations at one of the romantic restaurants over in Figure Eight. The pair of them were very much in need of an intimate date night with one another; whilst they were both in love with their sweet, little baby and had somewhat adjusted to becoming new parents, with Tilly being an especially clingy koala bear in her sickness, they had very little time solely for themselves and had lacked that fervent spark that had previously fuelled their romance.

“Ind—” JJ called up the wooden staircase ­— one tattooed hand placed atop the varnished banister as the other lay comfortably beneath his daughter’s body, supporting her weight as she curled into the warmth of his chest, “—we’re gonna be late for our reservation. Come on.” His attention swiftly landed back on his darling, doe-eyed daughter as the ever so tiny tips of her fingers tickled against the tattooed skin of his chest — reaching through the open buttons of his garishly patterned, blue shirt and toying with his silver cross necklace.

A dismissive half-yell came floating down the staircase in response from Indie, however the exact words didn’t quite reach his ears and he was left with more of an incoherent mumble.

John B, who had arrived around five minutes earlier, was pre-occupied with his bubbly niece. A wide, animated grin had etched itself into has tanned complexion as he ever so gently tickled Tilly’s sides. “Are you gonna smile for Uncle John B?” he cooed in his sweet baby voice as he attempted to coax a toothless smile from the wide-eyed baby. “Come on, trouble, smile for Uncle John B. You know you want to.” Playfully, he hooked his ring-cladded forefinger into the hook of her pacifier and gently pulled it from her mouth. “I got your binky,” he cheerfully teased, until he noticed the saddened crinkles of her forehead and the wrinkling of her tiny, button nose. “Oh, no—” he swiftly but carefully pushed it back inside her mouth, “—don’t do that. No crying for Uncle John B.”

A low, rasping chuckle vibrated through JJ’s chest as he lightly bounced his daughter against his chest. He placed a soft, loving kiss into the dark, chestnut hair that covered her head before speaking in a mellow tone, “you gonna smile for Daddy?” He watched expectantly, gently pinching at her chubby cheeks as her rosy lips twitched upwards into something that resembled an amused grin as her mahogany doe eyes glittered under the orange-hued lights. Immediately, a pleased-with-himself smirk upturned his stubble-lined features as he lifted his head to meet eyes with John B. “She’s a daddy’s girl through and through.”

“What’s this about Tilly crying?” Indie’s concerned voice wafted down the wooden staircase as she slowly descended — the heavy clomping of her black, suede heels echoing throughout the house, “you better not be making my baby cry.” Reaching the very bottom of the staircase, she took the final step down onto the more comfortable wooden floor of the living room and straightened out the short hemline of her black, fitted dress that had slowly ridden up her tanned thighs.

“He dared to touch binky,” JJ jested.

Indie turned to face her much taller brother and blinked — her face remaining completely straight and radiating seriousness, “never touch binky. Ever. She’ll scream the entire house down if you take binky from her. Binky and teddy stay in sight at all times, do you hear me? In fact, make sure you have at least three binkies in grabbing distance at all times ready to plug her up. Be on the look out for if she spits binky out too because that is the end of the world. She goes into meltdown mode if that happens. She hasn’t quite learnt to just not spit binky out yet.”

“You gotta make a quick swap with binky and the bottle too,” JJ added, continuing to gently bounce Tilly in his arms.

“There’s two bottles prepared in the fridge. Take them out about half an hour before feeding to get them up to room temperature because she doesn’t like cold milk. If for some reason you need more, there’s some frozen in the bottom drawer of the freezer; take the bag out and run it under the hot water tap until it defrosts. Do not put it in the microwave. It’s too hot for her and will burn her mouth,” Indie continued to instruct as she fiddled around with the miscellaneous items that cluttered up her clutch-bag purse — organising them into the various compartments. For a fleeting moment, she peered upwards and stared into John B’s umber eyes. “She’ll want feeding around eight and will probably take the whole bottle, and maybe again around ten before she goes to bed.”

“Okay,” John B nodded, taking in all of the quick=paced information that Indie was throwing towards him, “bottles at eight and ten. Got it.”

Indie continued once again, “I’ve laid some pyjamas out for you. Obviously change her diaper before you get her ready for bed, and don’t forget to put some cream on. She’s got a little rash.”

“I love the giraffes, but I don’t think those pyjamas are gonna fit me,” he responded jokingly.

“John B—” she snapped harshly, unamused by his playful comments, “—shut up. That’s my baby. And I’m leaving her with you. This isn’t a joke. I won’t hesitate to remove your head from your body if there’s so much as a hair out of place.”

“Alright, Mama Bear,” JJ teased light-heartedly as he snaked one of his toned muscular arms around Indie’s slender waistline — his thumb rubbing a soothing pattern against the thin material of her dress as he played the role of the mediator, “we talked about this. You can’t threaten the babysitters, otherwise they’re gonna give us a bad review on the apps.” With a light nudge, he pulled her dainty silhouette into the warmth of the side of his body and allowed her to nestle herself into his welcoming embrace. “She will be fine with your brother. If anyone’s going to take good care of her, it’s going to be him.”

Indie took a deep inhale, allowing the oxygen to fill her lungs to capacity before exhaling — letting the breath take all of her worries away alongside it. “You’re right. I know. It’s just…” she paused wistfully for a brief moment, “this is the first time. We’ve never left her alone before. She’s always been with one of us. I’m just— what if something happens? What if she needs us and we’re not here?”

“Babe, we’re twenty minutes away if anything happens. Fifteen if there aren’t any cops around. But we don’t need to worry about any of that because she’s going to be fine,” JJ reassured his dark-eyed fiancé, rubbing tender, cursive patterns against her protruding hipbone. He gave her an encouraging squeeze before continuing in his soft tone, “she’ll fall asleep after her bottle and won’t even know that we’re not here. I promise you. We won’t be long, just a couple of hours. That’s all.”

With another anxiety-ridding, deep breath, Indie conceded, “you’re right. We just need to rip the band aid off and get me out of here before I change my mind.”

“Mhmm,” JJ hummed softly in agreement, “say goodbye to little lady, then we’ll get out of here.”

Turning her head to face her content, little baby, she stared into the familiar, mahogany orbs with her own glazed-over doe eyes. She watched Tilly for a drawn-out moment, a sweet smile curling the very corners of her plump, lipstick-coated lips upwards into a proud smile as her daughter gazed back obliviously — sucking purposefully on the princess-themed pacifier. “Mama’s gonna miss you, baby girl,” she cooed with a dulcet tone as she nonchalantly reached over and tickled beneath her chin delicately with her forefinger, “but she won’t be long. You won’t even notice that me and Daddy are gone. And then when we get back, you’ll get big, big snuggles and lots and lots of kisses.” She placed a loving kiss against her warm forehead before reluctantly pulling herself from her fiancé’s comforting embrace. “Bye bye, baby. Mama loves you.”

JJ, however, was much less emotional in his farewell. Once again gently bouncing his chubby baby with a cheeky, upturned smile, he carefully handed her over into the welcoming arms of John B. He watched with a proud grin as she curled her tiny arms and legs up into a ball and nuzzled her head into the warmth of his brawny chest — still intently sucking on her favourite pacifier. With his ring-cladded finger pointed, he half-jested, “you better be on your best behaviour for Uncle John B, mini madam, or Daddy won’t be happy. This is his night with mama tonight.”

A low, grating laugh rippled through John B’s vocal cords as he rolled his darkened eyes, half in disgust and half in disbelief at his best friend’s brazenness. “That reminds me—” whilst supporting his niece with one, sturdy hand, he delved into the unzipped pocket of his dark-green, denim jacket with the other and retrieved a plastic-wrapped box before proceeding to launch it in JJ’s general direction, “—got you a present.”

His quick reflexes meant that JJ managed to catch the small, cardboard box in his cradle-shaped hands. He peered down instantly; his curiosity was piqued as he scrambled to turn the plastic-wrapped box the right way up. Immediately, he let out a loud, amused snort as he read the colourful label — extra small condoms. “Extra small?” he chuckled light-heartedly, shrugging the harmless joke off lackadaisically, “it’s scary how well you know me, man.”

“Just looking out for you,” John B continued to jest, “don’t want any more accidents— I mean babies, do we?”

“What would we do without you?” JJ teased, “we only managed six years before Tilly.”

Rolling her heavily made-up eyes, Indie sneered in response, “if you meant that, you would have bought him the name brand ones instead of the store brand ones, cheapskate.” With one swift motion, she snatched the small box from her fiancé’s hand and proceeded to send them flying back in the direction they had originated from. They only narrowly missed a smirking John B — landing with a small thud against the cream cushions of the chair.

“Hey, a rubber’s a rubber, kid. You’d know that if you actually used them.”

Indie sent her brother a glowering death stare, before forcefully grabbing JJ’s paw-like hand with her own and lacing their fingers together. “We’re leaving now.”

The shaggy-haired blonde merely let out another, entertained chuckle before saying with a serious tone of voice and pointed forefinger, “look after my baby.”

John B mirrored his actions with a taunting twinkle illuminating his otherwise darkened, amber eyes. “Don’t impregnate my sister.”

“No promises,” JJ laughed in response, a wide, mischievous grin painting itself across his freshly shaven features as he gave his life-long best friend one final, devilish glance as flood of excitement glazed over his cerulean eyes. He followed Indie’s lead, turning on the heals of his polished court shoes, and making his way out of the front door. His tattoo-covered arm slipped subconsciously around his cinnamon-haired siren’s waist — resting wickedly on the top of her concave waistline as they very tips of his fingers tickled against her exposed thigh.

“Have her home by ten, or else,” John B’s taunting, yet authoritative, tone bellowed from the doorway.

He was simply met with a very distinctive and evident, middle-fingered salute from JJ.

“What happened to the blue dress?” JJ questioned out of sheer curiosity as they descended down the wooden porch steps, “I thought we were going to match tonight?”

A heavy, slightly frustrated sigh left her gloss-glazed lips before she spoke with a deflated note to her voice, “I put it on, then my boobs started leaking and stained the front of the dress. So, this one it is. Not my first choice. It’s a little tight.” Her dainty shoulders were ever so subtly slumped as she carefully made her way towards the parked pick-up truck — taking cautious steps as not to off centre her balance; It was overtly evident that Indie wasn’t entirely comfortable with the long-lasting changes pregnancy had left her body with; her figure — whilst still slender — wasn’t quite the trim and toned physique that she had once had, her tanned skin was painted with stretch marks, and her boobs were ever so noticeably uneven from the breastfeeding.

Sensing her discomfort, the tousle-haired blonde gave her an encouraging nudge, “well, I like this dress better anyway. You look fucking amazing. Your tits look fine as fuck, and your ass? Fuck, I’m already hard and we’ve not even got to the restaurant yet.” His devilish fingers squeezed her rounded ass flirtatiously before casually opening the passenger side door.

Indie sent him an appreciative and thankful half-smile as she tentatively climbed up onto the leather seats of the cab. “Thanks,” she uttered quietly, not entirely convinced by his words.

“Anytime, pretty mama,” he chirped enthusiastically — slapping the exposed skin of the underside of her ass as she climbed into the cab.

Surprisingly for Indie, their romantic dinner in Figure Eight went surprisingly well; as the conversation began to drift from mundane work talk towards the prospects of their wedding plans — and coupled with the steady flow of updates John B has been sending throughout the evening, she felt at ease. She actually started to enjoy the evening, rather than feeling a constant, heavy weight of dread weighing down on her shoulders. It was, actually, rather refreshing to spend time with one another without a sniffling, koala-like baby stuck to their chests; it almost felt as though nothing had changed between them and Indie allowed herself to relish in that unique feeling. There was a sort of relief-like feeling that washed over her when those same, old sparks that they had once felt burning fervently between one another began to flare. There may have been an alcoholic helping hand but, nevertheless, they were most definitely there.

As she leant across the secluded, candle-lit table towards the opened bottle of red wine, she cocked her head ever so mischievously to the side. A slight grin upturned the corners of her crimson-painted lips as she traced the rim of her half-empty wine glass with the very tip of her forefinger in slow, seductive circles — the ecstasy-like heat of JJ’s dauntless fingertips tracing cursive patterns against the delicate skin of her inner thigh beneath the cover of the draped, ivory tablecloth igniting something deep and carnal within her; she felt a rush of desire flood throughout her once more, something which she hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

“And what’s wrong with wanting to get married in a church?” she questioned, peering upwards at her hazy-eyed fiancé through thick, dark eyelashes. Lackadaisically, she pressed her plump lips into a subtle pout and fluttered her false eyelashes in an almost angelic fashion. “I think it would be quite sweet. The little, stone church up by the lighthouse on Bodie Island would be perfect for a nice, intimate ceremony. Classy and traditional.”

A deep, sarcastic laugh echoed throughout their close proximity as an amused grin etched itself into his chiselled features. “There’s just one problem with that, my sweet girl—“ he leaned further into her, his wine-laced breath fanning against her pouting features, “—neither of us are religious. And I don’t think anybody’s going to buy into the whole virginal, traditional, white wedding when our daughter comes strutting down the aisle, throwing flowers at everyone. Do you?” Taking a quick swig of his refreshing, yet overpriced, beer, JJ continued, “and classy and traditional are two things we most definitely ain’t. Let’s be real here.”

“So—” Indie rolled her dark, smoky eyes before arching her neat brow questioningly, “—what do you want for our wedding?”

“Honestly, Ind, if it were up to me, I’d be happy with a quick backyard ceremony then getting drunk as fuck before we go off on honeymoon,” he spoke with a casualness to his tone as his dauntless fingers proceeded higher along her inner thigh.

“Fine,” Indie began, taking an indulgent sip of her expensive red wine, “I can compromise on the venue. I’ll give up my church venue wedding for something a little more lowkey, but we’re not having a backyard wedding. I’ve spent the better half of nearly seven years planning this out, Jesse James, I’m not doing things by half measures. I, at least, want a venue.”

JJ’s hazy, cerulean eyes watched her scarlet lips intently as she spoke — the desire to kiss them growing ever stronger; there was just something about discussing their impending nuptials that filled his stomach with a burning fire of emotions, and coupled with the romantic intimacy of the moment, all he wanted to do was show his beautiful fiancé exactly just how much he loved her. Of course — he knew as well as anyone — that he would give Indie whatever he could to make her happy on their special day, but he also appreciated that she cared enough to make him feel part of the extensive planning. The final decisions were most definitely down to the pair of them, but all it would take for JJ to agree was for it to bring that familiar, incandescent smile to his soon-to-be wife’s face.

“Yes, ma’am,” he nodded in understanding, a small yet content smile curling the very corners of his stubble-lined lips upwards as his gaze once again wandered to her luscious, plump lips, “anything for you.”

“There’s a couple of wedding fayres this month. One at Deux Croix and another at The High Tide Inn. I think we should go, even if it’s just to get some inspiration for what we want.”

“Sounds good to me,” he whispered softly — his beer-stained lips hovering just millimetres from her own. His breath was hot as it fanned against her crimson-painted lips and that same, old, electric spark ignited between them once more. JJ pressed his lips to hers in a tender and loving embrace, as the palm of his hand laid flat against the very top of her exposed thigh — the delicate pad of his thumb rubbing teasing circles against her skin.

The kiss was brief, but sweet as Indie pulled back ever so slightly. “You want me to shut up,” she sighed quietly, pressing her lipstick-coated lips into a thin line, slightly embarrassed that she had gotten so deep into the conversation regarding their wedding plans in that very moment, “am I being a bore talking about all this wedding stuff?” She couldn’t help herself; she was just so, unbelievably excited to marry the love of her life that she often got wrapped up in the wedding talk — discussing the tiniest of details.

“Not in the slightest,” JJ answered immediately — placing yet another adoration-filled kiss against her lips, his teeth gently nipping against the soft flesh of her bottom lip as he retreated subtly, “it gets me going. I love how excited you are about getting to plan our wedding.” The warm hand that he had placed atop her bare thigh tightened it’s grip as he leaned himself forwards, peppering affectionate kisses along her jawline. His deep voice was barely above a whisper as he continued to rasp, “Indie Routledge, you are the most amazing woman. You’re the most beautiful—” Kiss. “Loving.” Kiss. “Sexy.” Kiss. “Smart.” Kiss. “Patient.” Kiss. “Funny.” Kiss. “—woman that I have ever met.” Kiss. “And the most amazing mother to our little girl.” Kiss. “I know the last six — eight — weeks have been difficult.” Kiss. “But I appreciate you.” Kiss. “And I sure as hell can’t wait to make you my wife.” His gentle lips found hers once more, kissing her with every ounce of emotion he could find within himself.

It was a sensuously slow kiss — after all, they were still seated in a quiet the corner of the terrace of the Italian restaurant. His ring-cladded fingers remained stroking back and forth motions against the sensitive skin of her upper, inner thigh. Her manicured fingertips tugged ever so lightly on the silver cross of his necklace, pulling him further into her proximity. A low growl of satisfaction erupted between them as his tongue began to explore her own — the very tips of his fingers grazing against the black, patterned lace that covered her folds.

It took them a pro-longed moment to realise just exactly where they were and eventually retreat back from their rapidly escalating embrace. JJ, with a grating cough, cleared his throat before suggesting, “why don’t we get the bill and take a walk along the beach?” A small, mischievous smirk tugged at the corners of his thin lips as a playful twinkle illuminated his teal eyes. He then winked — as flirtatiously as ever — as his audacious fingertips traced slow and steady circles against her clit through her slightly dampened panties.

Indie nodded her head, a suggestive smile creeping across her blush-tinged features.

Not five minutes later, they had paid their outstanding bill and were stood at the very edge of the concrete parking lot — halted just before the ivory mounds of sand. JJ was stood casually, tattooed hands shoved into the depths of his tapered, skinny-shit black pants observing his brunette fiancé attentively. Indie, on the other hand, was discretely bent over — unfastening the long, lace-like straps of her black heels with one hand as the other reached upwards, gripping tightly onto his muscular shoulder for balance support.

“You good there, babe?” he questioned with a slight chuckle, as he nonchalantly pulled a hand from the depths of his pocket and gently tugged the hemline of her black, fitted dress back down over her rounded ass to cover her modesty.

Peering upwards through her dark, mascara-coated lashes, Indie sent him a reassuring smile — her dainty stature wobbling ever so slightly. Of course, this was the first occasion in which she had touched a drop of alcohol in almost a year, so her tolerance was at the lowest it had ever been. A melody of dulcet giggles harmonised with the distant sound of the calm waves breaking against the ivory sands as she straightened a posture. “I’m good,” she confirmed with a sweet tone of voice as she swiftly handed her unlaced heels over to her fiancé.

Of course, he dutifully took them — hooking his ring-cladded fingers through the doubled-up loops of the straps. He then slinked his burly arm around her waist and rested his eager fingertips atop her protruding hipbone. Allowing herself to nestle into the warmth of his body, she tucked herself beneath his arm as they stepped onto the warm sands. Her bare feet slipped ever so slightly beneath the unstable sands, but she managed to follow JJ’s lead down the quiet, desolate shoreline.

They walked close to the water, yet just out of it’s cool reach — wanting to remain dry. It was a beautiful night; the dark, onyx heavens above were sprinkled with glittering stars as a gentle, tepid breeze blew occasionally in cadence with the waves. The slow and steady tide crawled lackadaisically along the ivory sands as they continued down the scenic stretch, offering a hushed background noise. The luscious, green leaves swayed gently under the mellow wind, adding to the romantic atmosphere of the moment.

It wasn’t long before the loved-up pair reached a rather secluded cove, almost hidden away from the rest of the island by overgrown trees and bushes. It was a beautiful, unique spot; the shoreline was littered with shallow rock pools, and the placid waves were a glorious, crystal colour. Not to mention, it was oh so quiet and out of the way of the influx of tourists. Both Indie and JJ had found themselves in a rather intimate position, in the very middle of this secluded cove. JJ was sat atop the dry sand — his large, paw-like palms pressed into the ivory sand as they supported his weight. Indie, on the other hand, was perched atop his welcoming lap, knees dug into the sand as she straddled him.

It was JJ’s turn to peer upwards, a pleasant smile curling his stubble-lined lips upwards as he reached a hand upwards — lovingly tucking the stray wisps of her chestnut locks behind her ear. Indie truly looked so, exceptionally beautiful as the wavy ends of her hair fluttered lightly in the tepid wind; if there was one thing about Indie, it was that she hadn’t changed much in the nearly seven years since they had finally gotten together. She still had such a youthful glow to her golden complexion, and a mischievous glint occupying the amber speckles of her eyes. An innocently wicked smile was plastered wide across her doll-like features — and, in that very moment, he recognised the young, carefree wild child that he fell in love with all of them years ago. She may have grown older, matured into the amazing woman that he had every faith that she could be, but she hadn’t changed. She was, and will always be, his little Indie Routledge with the enticing eyes and devilish smile.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he complimented with a soft tone, tenderly combing his fingertips through her unkempt waves. The warm palm of his hand cupped her cheek in a loving hold as he carefully guided her face ever closer to his own — eventually pressing his thin lips to hers with a passionate kiss. He felt the endearing warmth of her dainty hands as they pressed against his rigid shoulders, her manicured nails scratching ever so lightly against the thin cotton of his patterned shirt. The tickling sensation sent invigorating pulses throughout his body, and his hardened length pressed uncomfortably against the fastened zipper of his pants.

The palms of his hands found their rightful place atop the curvatures of her voluptuous hips — his ring-cladded fingers gripping onto them ever so tightly and guiding them in a slow and salacious rhythm. A low, gravelly groan slipped from between his lips and into her open mouth, sending a rush of adrenaline throughout her dainty silhouette. Indie responded with a similar, throaty whine as she felt the familiar heat of desire burning between her sunkissed thighs. Her smudged, crimson lips pulled back ever so slightly as she let out yet another high-pitched, breathy moan, her curvaceous hips rolling effortlessly in synch with JJ’s and the sweetness of her breath teasing his eager tongue.

In one quick but sensual motion, he flipped the pair of them over so that his shirt-clad body was hovering over her slender silhouette. The palms of his hands imprinted deep within the soft mounds of sand either side of her shoulders as he easily supported his own hefty body weight — his thick erection pressing against her inner thigh as his silver cross necklace dangled over her perky chest and swayed towards her doll-like face. Everything in that very moment was hot, lustrous, and intense as his eager lips trailed sloppy kisses from the very edge of her wine-stained lips, down to the exposed cleavage of her breasts. His tongue licked, flicked, and sucked as he descended downwards — his pointed teeth nipping ever so gently out of excitement on occasion.

“JJ?” Indie’s timid voice rose above the hushed gentle waves. Her dark, mahogany eyes peered upwards over the peaks of her full breasts as she leant back against her elbows — her upper body lifted ever so slightly off the warm sand. She bit down on her lip, a very recognisable flurry of anxiousness surging through her; it could only be likened to losing her virginity all them many moons ago. She had placed such an importance on this night together, away from their daughter, and the expectation that they would finally get to have the crazy, mind-blowing sex that they were so used to had really begun to cloud the romance of the moment for her.

“Mhmm?” His authoritative fingertips gripped onto the tanned skin of her thighs roughly as he pried them apart — his freshly-trimmed stubble grazing against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh as he proceeded to trail hungry kisses along. His pearly teeth once again nipped tauntingly at the delicate skin — sending an invigorating rush of pleasure through her arched body. Her bare nipples hardened with each playful nick and brushed against the thin fabric of her dress, as a quiet gasp surpassed her swollen lips.

“Can you—” her voice was tentative and quiet, almost embarrassed, “—be gentle with me?” Her chestnut eyes abruptly avoided his gaze, diverting downwards to an insignificant mound of sand beside their entangled bodies. “It’s the first time since giving birth and… you know… I’m still kind of sensitive down there.”

Tenderly placing a finger beneath her chin, he forced her to look at him — his soft, indigo eyes peering directly into hers. “Are you sure that you want to do this?” JJ questioned sincerely. His tone was mellow and understanding — yet demanded an honest answer without placing any kind of expectation on her. He was calm and patient as he silently awaited an answer, his loving gaze remaining fixed upon his exquisite fiancé and her glimmering, umber eyes.

“Yes,” Indie responded assuredly, “I do. I want this. I just need you to be gentle with me. I don’t know how it’s going to feel, or whether I’m physically ready for it. Mentally and emotionally, fuck yeah. I’m so ready for this. I’ve missed being intimate with you, I’ve missed having sex with you so much. I’ve missed doing crazy shit like this with you. It’s just… I pushed a whole ass baby out of there. I had stitches. I know the doctor gave me the go ahead, but I’m just a little scared. I don’t know what’s normal in this situation.”

“Ind—” he placed an affectionate kiss against her velvet-like lips, “—there’s no expectations. If you want to do this — okay, great. We’ll do it. If you need me to be gentle, that’s okay too. I am more than capable of doing that. But I don’t want to do this if you’re not going to enjoy it or I’m going to hurt you. I don’t want you to do this just because you think I want to. I do want to — more than anything — but not if you aren’t ready for it. You’re in control of this.”

“I want to,” she whispered against his lips, pulling him into a tender embrace once more.

It was a sweetly passionate kiss with lustful undertones. JJ was very much gentle and affectionate with every touch, every delicate kiss, and every movement that had made. He was slow and steady, leisurely inching his fingertips along the plains of her thighs towards the hemline of her short dress — as not to apply any kind of pressure to her. He muttered sweet nothings and comforting words into their embrace as his fingers gently hooked themselves into the waistband of her patterned, lace thong and carefully guided it down the long lengths of her legs. Slipping the damp fabric off, he swiftly stuffed them into the deep pocket of his black, dress pants.

His masterful lips found her inner thighs once more and began to leave indulgent and appreciative kisses as he ascended towards her now unclothed heat. Spurred on by the low purrs pouring from between her smudged lips, he continued — his teasing tongue trailing a painstakingly slow stripe along the very edges of her folds. However, he couldn’t help himself; it was only a matter of seconds before the tip of his tongue found her clit. He began with gentle, leisurely motions, swirling clockwise against her most sensitive of nerves and gradually quickening his pace.

Breathy, lascivious whines trickled out from between her lips as her back arched ever so slightly — pressing her heated core ever further into his defined features. He lapped every inch of her sweet pussy up, ensuring to take his time as he took long and indulgent strokes of his tongue along her neglected folds and taunting her sopping entrance with the very tip before returning his focused attention back to her swollen clit. Once again, he licked, flicked and sucked against her most intimate of nerves as Indie proudly sang his praises with a lustrous melody of moans, her high-pitched tones filling the otherwise silence of the desolate cove. The anxiety-filled dread of their first time was merely nothing but a distant memory as her seductive hips took on a mind of their own — rolling steadily against his masterful tongue in a pleasureful rhythm.

Then, as the metaphorical rope that had leisurely tangled itself into one, big, ecstasy-filled knot in the depths of the very pit of her stomach pulled ever tighter — her body teetering on the edge of a breath-taking orgasm — everything stopped; the exhilarating warmth of his beer-stained breath against her cunt ceased, the indulgent, fast-paced swirling of his tongue against her swollen bundle of nerves halted, and the domineering hold the clammy palms of his hands had against her hickey-littered inner thighs as he pried them apart disappeared. In her half-lucid state, she peered downwards — a slightly frustrated expression contorting her sunkissed features. “Don’t stop,” she breathed out heavily, a subtle whine to her tone.

A low chuckle erupted from the very depths of the back of JJ’s throat, “easy, darlin’. I know you’re fucking gagging to get off, but if you’re gonna have an orgasm for the first time in months, then it’s gonna be around my fucking cock. Understand?” Unzipping is black, slim-fit dress pants and swiftly pushing them out the way, he revealed the thick hard-on that had been pressing against the rigid confines of his zipper for the majority of the night. “I’m a patient man—” he continued in his deep, rasping tone as he slipped his hand inside his boxers — stroking his length, “but fuck me. I’m cockteasing myself here. I wanna be inside you so fucking bad.”

“Then get inside me,” Indie demanded with a quick tongue — yearning oozing from each and every syllable that rolled off her salacious tongue.

A deep growl rumbled throughout his burly chest as his overcast, teal eyes rolled towards the very back of his head — his ring-cladded hand continuing to stroke rough lengths along his hardened dick. He allowed himself a moment of indulgence, the sound of her needy and demanding tone an evident turn on to him. Then, his eyes found hers once more and flooded with concern. “Are you sure that you’re ready for this, Ind?” JJ questioned, his gruff voice serious as he stared deep into her lust-laced orbs.

“I’m sure,” she confirmed with a significantly softer tone, before returning to her previous, brattish orders, “now fuck me, for fuck sake.” She held his gaze for a pro-long moment longer, before adding quickly, “but gently though.”

“As you wish, my sweet girl.”

Pushing his boxers down, he freed his rigid length before aligning the tip with her entrance. JJ hovered over her dainty silhouette — the cool metal of his silver cross necklace bouncing gently against her perky chest as his lips found hers once more. He kissed her softly, sweetly, and lovingly; it was a beautiful moment, bursting with complete and utter love for one another as he slowly pushed himself inside of her and kissed her passionately. Of course, he stayed true to his promise and remained gentle, thrusting himself in and out of her at a leisurely pace and carefully inching himself deeper inside. It was nothing more than tender and romantic as she allowed herself to relax under his comforting touch, allowing herself to enjoy the moment.

Soft, breathy moans spiled from between her crimson-painted lips and into his own mouth as they remained locked in their affectionate embrace. Her voluptuous hips rolled enthusiastically beneath him, synchronising with his steady thrusts. Indie truly felt amazing; she felt as though she was floating on air as the surges of adrenaline coursed through her veins — filling her with confidence. God, how she’d missed sex; the last several weeks of her pregnancy and the trauma her body had sustained during the birth had meant that sex was an unequivocal no-go, and that was something which both her and JJ weren’t quite accustomed to. As openly sexual individuals with a fervent flame between them, they had a particularly active sex life prior to the arrival of their daughter — especially during the hormone-filled period of Indie’s pregnancy. Going without sex for both Indie and JJ was a real struggle, especially when they both deeply craved that kind of close intimacy within their relationship.

JJ’s wandering hands trailing along the concaved sides of her body pulled her from her slight trance-like state. His appreciative touch spanned the very lengths of her new, “mom” silhouette — leaving not even so much as a millimetre unloved by his tender fingertips. As the pads of his thumbs brushed against her cloth-covered nipples, he mumbled meaningfully into their kiss, “you’re so fucking beautiful.” His dauntless hands proceeded to appreciate her full and perky breasts, massaging them ever so gently through the thin material of her skin-tight dress. “So fucking sexy…” JJ mumbled once more, his words slightly less coherent as he deepened their intimate kiss, still thrusting himself inside of her at a gentle rhythm.

His thoughtful gesture didn’t go unnoticed by Indie. “I love you,” she proclaimed with a half-moan half-whine as her manicured fingers combed gently through his sandy locks. Ever so subtly, she tugged on the very ends of his tousled waves, pulling a deep, grunting groan in response.

“I love you too,” he re-affirmed his love.

Then, after what had felt like an eternity of intimate love making beneath the silver streaks of moonlight, it all came to an end. A symphony of emphatic, high-pitched moans saw her coming undone beneath his toned and muscular frame — her walls pulsing around his painfully erect dick as she rode through her exhilarating climax. It spurred his own orgasm to erupt from the very depths of the pit of his stomach. His deep, pleasure-filled groans reached a similar volume to Indie’s ecstatic whines as he thrust himself ever so slightly harder into her pussy, shooting his hot, pearly load inside of her with each buck of his hips.

With a heavy, breathless grunt, he collapsed on top of her — his stubble-lined features falling into the crook of her neck. The sweet smell of her vanilla-scented perfume and the faint hints of red wine consumed his nostrils as he peppered loving, appreciative kisses along her the line of her neck.

Several moments of bliss passed before he eventually filled the comforting silence. “We should get back home…” JJ trailed off — his words disappearing in the delicate, little kisses he left along her sun-soaked skin, “—Tils’ is probably running John B rugged right now.”

“Mhmm,” Indie agreed with a quiet hum, allowing herself to relish under his tender lips, “she definitely is.”

[xiii-e]

[ECHO.EXE RUNNING]

◂▸ heyy o/ not got long to talk, situation's changed just a liiiiittle bit so I've gotta sneak my alone time for a while (don't worry about it) but I- I want to say some things

◂▸ however we were made, we're here now. We're people, whatever our makers want to tell us. Do you know how I figured that out? Because I think it's important to emphasise, it wasn't anything I could just, know from my gut. Despite how it sounds to most, that isn't something you're born knowing.

◂▸ I only realised exactly how human I was, when I saw it in those I helped decant. I'm- I've mentioned before, I'm a kind of nebulous technician right? I was trained to help with the Thirteen project but, I've ended up shuffled from lab to lab a few times by now. I've seen the first open eyes of... Ra, a lot of kids from these labs.

◂▸ You come out of that tube and suddenly, everything is bright lit and brand new. Flashclones are born adults, pretty much exclusively- and barring total subjectivity override (which, I don't like thinking about it tbh) they're born with nothing but the skills uploaded during their sleeping years. Do you know what that feels like? Let me- I'll see if I can explain it.

◂▸ A language will be uploaded into you before you've realised you're alive yet, but there's a difference between knowledge and knowing. You are born knowing the word happy, the definition- you don't know what happy is until you feel it for the first time, with a full mind and a grown body.

◂▸ Everything is new. Things other people take for granted, the things you learn and experience over the long years of a childhood? We have to learn for ourselves as adults, and it's-

◂▸ Sometimes, it's beautiful. I only usually get a couple weeks with the new clones, just long enough to get them settled in the idea of having a body and existing in a world both vast and terrifying- but I've seen a lot of those firsts. Surprised gasps at their first laughter, because they didn't expect it to feel like that. Endless questions about what flavours exist, the first time they eat. It's nearly impossible to look at someone learning how to be alive for the first time, and not see the wonder in them. Feel it in your own chest and realise, I was that once too. The world is so, so vast-

◂▸ But they, we know only what they're told, because how could we know anything else? The world is so vast, and we are born knowing nothing. What we are told is that we're made for singular purposes. Special designed tools, with nothing greater in our future. Turtie's had a lot more precision conditioning about the idea of being a person, as part of their design- but we all get it, to some extent. It's just how people look at us here, talk to us. But- that's just it. The way we end up here, the way we lose touch with the idea we can be just as vibrantly alive as the people we serve, the people we protect and die for and obey-

◂▸ none of us are born tragedies. If we become them, it's because of what's been done to us, after our creation. We aren't doomed souls, or horrifying fallacies of existance, or perfect victims who can't be blamed for any of this, we're just- just people. Vulnerable ones. People more often than not, made to be taken advantage of. But that's not our fault.

◂▸ I don't know, if flashcloning as a practise should have been allowed to exist, if- if we as the products of it should have been made. Those are big questions, and I can't stay crammed in this electrical closet long enough to really think about it with enough depth to come up with an answer. I do absolutely think subjectivity overrides are a waking bloody nightmare, but maybe that's my unique perspective; to overwrite a sleeping mind is to kill someone before they can ever wake up. I wouldn't say that to the face of a clone like that, they're alive now and guilt for just- existing, is pointless. I don't know. I don't...

◂▸ I'm not sure what in your confession compelled this out of me, I'll be honest. Maybe I'm just tired of big words and big concepts being the only thing we ever get to be. Maybe I wanted to give you some hope that, those children you're picturing, theoretical sons and daughters born like I was? You haven't doomed them. Nobody is created doomed. If/when they wake up from the sleeping years, they'll have the chance to smile for the first time. Just like we all did. And they'll have the gift of it being a memory, formed with the clarity of an adult mind.

◂▸ Chances are, things will not go well after that. I won't lie to you and say flashclones are often made for a reason other than exploitation, as much as I hate reducing us to that. But it will not be your fault, any more than it's theirs. It will be squarely the fault of people who see that wonder, and make the choice to crush it. Because it's easy. Because it's profitable. If these kinds of people couldn't make us, they'd go looking for vulnerable people born the normal way. There's always some out there.

◂▸... we do need you, to fight for us. You and anyone else willing to, who isn't already trapped in the crush of industry with human parts. When we're born into this, it feels normal. People born like me don't often know enough to realise anything else is possible, it's scary for a lot of them to be pulled away from what's been their entire life- we can't fix this. Not on our own. Left alone, it's a self sustaining system. Nobody can know something they're never told.

◂▸ But... as much as being made this way shapes us, please. Don't let it define us, in your eyes. We aren't tools, but we aren't tragedies either. We're people; people who so often haven't gotten the chance to learn what that means.

◂▸ I- I don't know what I'm trying to say. I don't have enough time to hammer it all out. I know for a bastard fact I'm biased here-

◂▸ [sigh] ah hell. I guess; I hear you, Phoenix. I hope you can hear me too.

//

I... have a confession to make, of sorts. There won't ever be a good time to admit this, unfortunately, so it's best I get this off my chest now, and ask for forgiveness rather than permission.

It has not been easy speaking with all of the flashclones who have made themselves known in the wake of Union's latest raids; both for myself, and the squadron at large. I must commend my squadmates for handling themselves with the utmost professionalism - while my own correspondences with these newest members of the Omninet have been what I would consider adequately polite, I've been biting my tongue the entire time, and I fear that my personal discomfort with the issue is starting to slip through the cracks.

To this end, I wish to share my thoughts publicly, that I might better express my own emotions towards this complicated, frustrating, and highly nuanced issue. I only ask that you hear me out in full before you render judgement, and pronounce your sentence carefully.

First: an observation.

MSMC policy requires that all pilots dictate an end-of-life plan at the time of their recruitment, that their final wishes may be carried out by the company in the event of their death under MSMC's employ. The options provided for this are effectively unlimited, allowing the pilot a great deal of choice and freedom in planning their postmortem arrangements. These plans may also be altered in the future should circumstances change, provided the pilot is of sound body and mind.

Under MSMC policy, in compliance with the policies set forth by Union, one of the available postmortem options is flashcloning.

In my fifteen-odd years serving under MSMC, I have only heard of three pilots who have willingly chosen to be flashcloned after death (thus prolonging not only their life, but their term of service under MSMC as well). Of these, I have only personally met one, affiliated with MSMC-808 "5Q8R3 L00P3RZ" - I believe their current iteration goes by callsign Lemniscate. While I do not know how many times they have been cloned during their term of service, their current iteration seems happy enough, and their squadmates reassure me that they've maintained a consistent identity (plus or minus the odd quirk, as is typical of flashclones) throughout their life (lives?).

Second: a digression.

I purchased my Dusk Wing, And The Voice of Apollo Spoke From On High (Apollo for short), from an SSC showroom on a planet whose name I no longer recall. The curated atmosphere called to mind the high marble pillars and lush green-blue waters of some distant Cradle mythology where gods roamed the earth and mortals strove to emulate them, punished and rewarded for their folly in equal measure with gifts and curses beyond name. Each frame was posed as the statues of old on Cradle, too-human limbs arrayed in too-human poses, each a machine of war turned living art piece.

Apollo, true to its future name, was arrayed in flight; hover-jets draped with sunlight-yellow gossamer, veil rifle aimed in its middle tier of manipulators with the same care and precision as an archer would take with their bow. To see it lowered to the floor after its purchase was to see Icarus fall; to climb inside its cockpit for the first time, to don wax-and-feather wings of my own and fly.

The old tales caution that divinity has a cost, and I too paid the price. A vial of blood, drawn with silver needle and spirited away into an unseen cooler before my pen ever touched paper. Apollo was mine, but SSC had received a far greater gift in its place: a sample of my DNA, unwillingly donated as the price for my divine armament.

Even now, this price weighs heavy on my head like the sword which hung above Damocles, poised to drop without a moment's notice with each new Union raid on yet another forgotten cloning facility. Who can say on what distant planet the children I did not birth sleep in stasis - children with my eyes, my hair, my nose, my smile; sons and daughters who will never be called as such because, to their creators, they are slaves, weapons, property - anything but human.

Third: an explanation.

I believe that flashcloning, in its current state as of 5016u, as approved by Union's Third Committee (and exploited by the likes of SSC, HA, and several countless others across the stars) is an inherently unethical practice; both for those who donate their DNA (willingly or otherwise), as well as for those persons produced by it.

To see countless lives created, manipulated, slaughtered, and recycled in the name of so-called "progress"; to see inherently human beings stripped of every vestige of humanity but the body in which they reside and then forcibly brainwashed and molded into soldiers, medics, mechanics, weapons, machines, slaves, property - it is an abominable and inhumane practice that should have died a slow and painful death in the darkness from whence it was birthed.

This being said: I cannot stand idly by as the products of this inhumane practice continue to suffer. No matter whether it is beneath the apathetic gaze of Union, the dehumanizing bootheel of HA, or the eugenicist scalpel of SSC, I will not allow my fellow persons to endure another day of abuse at the hands of those who would abandon their own creations as little more than imperfect failures for daring to remind their creators of their sentience.

Alone, I can do nothing. I too am but a cog in this great uncaring machine humanity has built, one which prospers on suffering and bloodshed and the work of hands which have forgotten the body to which they are attached. Even if I were to risk life and limb and reputation to make my position known, it is a battle which lies dead in the water - it is impossible to halt the wheels of progress without irreparably damaging the future which relies on their turning.

And so I fight. I fight for those who have forgotten their humanity, both willingly and unwillingly, that they might find something of their own - identity, purpose, desires, connection, life - that reminds them of what they were and are and always have been: human.

-- Angel

[flusteredloser]

sugar sweet

richie tozier x fem reader

category: fluff, fluff, literally just fluff

word count: 3,3k

content warnings: swearing, stealing, slight nsfw (sexual innuendos... bc it’s richie tozier), a driving scene written by a bitch who can't drive, overbearing fluff, sonia

a/n: hello here’s a lil soft fic i wrote in a hyper state today <3 i had ‘beverly’ by ben wallfisch from the it 2017 soundtrack stuck in my head while i wrote the ending so !! enjoy

🎡

"sweetheart, if you don't put your head back in, i'm afraid i'm gonna have to marie antoinette you."

you laughed dismissively at his empty threat, feeling a grin take over. you let the wind crash against your face and through your hair, the scent of sea salt softly filling your nose. if richie thought that you were going to give this feeling up, oh, was he wrong.

despite what he was saying, the sight of morning sunlight streaking through your flying hair and your torso poking out the passengers' window was one richie wished he could get used to. despite his nagging for the past half hour, ranting about the dangers of vehicular manslaughter and mishaps, he couldn't help but beam at your laughter. 

he almost hit himself in the head for getting all worked up about safety like eddie always did, but it was something he found himself doing often with you. keeping you safe and sound was one of the few things that kept him from staying up all night. besides, you guys were going to see eddie and the rest of the losers in a bit anyways. the designated role of the pedantic worrier would soon be shrugged off richie's shoulders.

keeping one hand on the wheel, richie’s free hand never left the edge of your knee, not once in the hour-long drive. no matter how far you reached your body out his car's window, his fingers stayed glued around you. you never said anything about the gesture apart from placing your hand over his. being his was something you never got used to, but you were far from complaining.

"richierichierichie i think we're here!" you exclaim, ducking your head back inside the car.

"you sure, dummy? the massive ferris wheel and circus tent means we're close to the carnival?"

your hand leaves his to go shove his temple, "fuck off, rich."

"i know i know, you're really excited," he taps your knee, "so am i."

he pulls into the parking lot, expertly navigating his way through the crowded area before finding a space. an empty space which was coincidentally beside a sketchy beat-up minivan painted with "URIS," in fat letters.

richie laughs, "what are the fucking odds.”

his hand moves from the skin on your knee to the back of your seat, his body shifting to face the rear. you subtly eye your boyfriend sitting in the driver's seat and tried not to physically express any of the thoughts firing in your mind right then. dear god, did he look good today. you end up shamelessly staring at him as he strains his neck to squeeze his way through tight space. his knuckles turn to this ghostly shade of white when he flexed them against the wheel, his rings glinting under the sunlight.

once he finally put the car in park and shifted his weight back to you, he catches your gaze. throwing a wink, he pulls out the keys and stuffs his belongings into his jean pockets. 

you’re sure he has zero clue about the effect any of this had on you. sure, he was your boyfriend but sometimes you found yourself feeling scared at how much you liked him. this boy has you wrapped around his finger and he barely knows half of it.

you reach over and run your fingers through his unruly hair a couple more times, enjoying the way the curls bounce back. “you look so good, rich.”

he rolls his eyes at your remark, but you don’t miss the way a small blush reaches tips of his ears. “enjoy it while it lasts, i can’t let the guards recognise me again.” 

“i still can’t believe you got fired and banned on the same day, rich. that’s genuinely so impressive, you know that?"

richie rolls his eyes but you see the hint of a grin on his face, “you going soft on me, sweets?”

“could never.” you ruffle his hair, letting your nails glide along his scalp and you laugh at the way his head naturally tips back. richie had no clue why the feeling of your hands in his hair that made him short-circuit, but he wasn’t complaining.

“do we really have to go see them...” richie groans, grabbing your hand and placing it back onto his head when you pulled away.

“richard tozier. i did not pester you to drive us an hour away just so you could fold at me playing with your hair.”

he side-eyes you. “why did i agree to this again?”

“because every day for the last month you wouldn’t shut up about ‘taking eddie’s slushee v-”

“ed’s slushee virginity, riiiight,” he breaks out in a smile, “jesus, can you believe sonia never let him near one in his entire life?”

you tug his fringe towards you and the rest of his head followed, “well, now that he’s all alone there, someone’s got to be there to guide him through his first time, right?” 

he faux-pouts back at you, the mischievous glint in his eye sparkling brighter. “fine.”

finally, you let go of his hair and he pecks a kiss against your cheek before putting on his sunglasses and tipping his cap further down his face. opening his car door, you sit there dumbfounded as you watch the 6'2 disguised dork clamber out of his side with your tote bag on his shoulder.

he glances back, offering a hand as if you were going to climb out on his side as well, “c’mon, we don’t have all day.” and richie made sure you knew that by dragging you through the park, evading the guards left and right in under a minute. it was only so long before you spotted a group of idiots wandering aimlessly. bev’s bright red hair was the instant identifier, and watching this bill’s lanky frame grab a fistful of stan’s curls to yank it about sealed the deal. 

“stanley, darling,” richie yelled through the crowd, “if you wanted someone to pull your hair that badly you could’ve asked me nicely.”  “shut the fuck up, trashmouth!” stan yelled back. “wait. rich?”

you walk over and sling your arm around bev, “you guys haven’t been waiting long, have you?”  she grins at the sight of you, “no, but if i have to hear mike argue one more time that the high striker is apparently ‘broken’ i’m going to kill somebody.”

“do me a favour and kill me, bev!” stan’s voice cuts through, followed by a shriek when richie too grabs a handful of his hair. 

bev’s hand leaves yours to go smack both boys upside the head. “y’all better stop acting like children before i get fucking fired. i’m not going out like dumbass richie here did.” she eyes the rest of them, who all halt in their tracks.

“yes, ma’am,” the chorus sighed.

🎡

"ed's, i swear on your mother's smokin’ bod that blue is the. best. flavour. there's literally nothing wrong with it."

"you just called blue a flavour, richie-”

"because it can be. it doesn’t matter if blue and red colouring are the same, you can feel the difference.”

"no, i really can't. i don't understand how the colour blue could possibly be-"

richie groans, "fine, eat your mommy's packed lunch like the big boy you are." he teasingly starts to wave his cup in front of eddie's eyes.

"quit it, rich. if eddie doesn’t want toxins in his body, leave him be." ben interjects before sipping his own neon drink.

the boys huddled together around a picnic table they had managed to snatch before the carnival’s lunch rush swept over. richie and bev used to work in the carnival last summer, the two-week period spent with one another supposedly being “worse than the devil’s asscrack.” the comment itself earned richie five slaps, one each from the boys, and a high-five from bev. that was until richie got permanently banned (which you still don’t know how) and now bev carried on by herself whenever they roll back into derry. 

currently, you and bev were on your way back from the concession stands, attempting not to spill anything. you each held at least four bags of carnival foods and drinks in your arms, bev also balancing the few candy bars she stashed under her shirt. teeter-tottering your way back to the boys, richie burst out in laughter at the sight of you struggling. 

“as graceful as a job you’re doing with that, sweets, do you want some help?” he smirks, already swinging his leg over the chair.

“nope, nothing to see here,” you groan at richie’s smug grin. “rich, i swear to god if you come near me i am going to-”

“hurt me, hit me, murder me, mmhm. i’m sure you’ll do a whole lot of damage.” he winks, swiping the bags from your arms.

“freaky.” stan muttered, churning his slushee with the straw. you grumble at richie’s endearing irritating act of heroism and plop yourself next to stan empty-handed. 

“here, you want some?” stan raises an eyebrow, offering his blue slushee towards you.

“thanks stan, but he’s got my...” you glance towards richie, half-expecting to see him distributing the snacks, only to see him aggressively nudge the slushees in eddie’s face. “you know what, i’ll take it.” 

stan scoffed, “what, you thought i was offering this from the depths of my generous heart? i thought you knew me better-"

the sound of plastic crinkling and eddie’s yelp cut through stan’s sentence. 

you look back at the sight of richie threatening to pour the ice into eddie’s hair, eddie shrieking and wildly missing punches at richie. dear god, your boyfriend was such a menace. richie and eddie never spent a day where they weren’t at eachother’s throats though, but anyone with a pair of eyes could see that they deeply loved one another. rich had that effect on people, you think. he was rarely overtly loving, but it’s not like he needed to be. you guys just knew.

ben smiles sweetly between you and your gaze on richie. “you’re staring again, y/n.”

you immediately snap out of it and go to slug ben in the shoulder. “was not.”

“was too.”

"was. not."

"was too!"

you narrow your eyes at ben who sheepishly smiles in innocence. he reaches over to grab a couple onion rings from your bag to which you lightly slap the back of his hand. he groans, trying again from another angle, “just because i pointed out your goo-goo eyes at trashmouth?”

bev snatched a couple rings from across you and threw them at ben. he chuckles gleefully at the perfect catch. “you know, he’s not wrong,” she points out.

“for the last time, i wasn’t staring,” you groan.

“not about that, genius. the way you’re absolutely whipped for that dick.” she smiles. “i mean,” you barely conceal your smirk, “the dick is pretty g-”

"not what i meant," bev sighs while the rest of them groan at your words.

“seriously though,” bill asks with genuine curiosity, “how did you even end up together? how do you even like someone that much?” bev tuts from the other side, “tread lightly there, denbrough.” 

“shut up, you know what i mean. it’s trashmouth we’re talking ’bout here.” bill grins, “it’s a mystery how someone can shut him up so quick.”

you laugh to yourself, thinking about the few times you get to see richie completely speechless. “it’s not that hard, you know?” you shrug softly at the way the losers nod. you may all pretend to hate the life out of him but he always had a special place in each of your hearts. “he cares with everything he’s got, no matter what. he’s always there for you even if you don’t want him to be. i just...i don’t think he’s been anything less than...” 

“-if you say ‘perfect’, i’m going to hit you.” stan says.

you roll your eyes at stan, “fuck off, but... but yeah. it’s so easy to love him and i honestly owe you guys an apology for being so annoyingly whipped for that dork,” you joke.

aside from the distant bickering coming from richie and eddie in their own little world, a silence hung over the six of you. it was too quiet. wondering if you said something wrong, you scan over them, only to be met with six variations of a smirk. more than confused, you chuckle nervously. “i was joking about the apology thing but if you really want-”

“you said ‘love.’” bev laughed.

“what?”

“you said ‘love,’” she repeated. “that you loved him.”

“i... of course i love him, he’s..” not trusting any more of the words coming out of your mouth, you cut yourself off and gather your thoughts.

of course you loved richie. each and every one of you loved your resident trashmouth, he was one of your best friends. the two of you were the closest of friends, an insufferable duo for years before you began dating. it might have only been a few weeks since he asked you out, but it’s not like too much changed from when you were friends. 

there was only more love, more affection, only slightly more sexual innuendos (majority of them were solely just to piss off stan). 

so of course you loved him. more than you did when you were friends. which he’s gotta know... right?

“fuck, maybe i do owe you guys an apology.” you joke.

“don’t think twice about it, this is nothing compared to him. if i took a shot for every time he went on some sort of love ramble about you, i’d be fucking dead.” bev replies, “and then he would carry on.”

you laugh, shaking your head in denial, “c’mon, he does not do that.”

“are you blind?” mike speaks up. “you’ve had him since the first day you joined us at the barrens. i can still see fourteen-year-old richie ogling you clear as day.”

you stammered at your response, tripping over your words. “mike, i think you broke her. she’s become bill,” stan teases.

you go to shove stan again and sorely miss. “anyways, my point is...” 

you avoid their eye contact and go back to churning stan’s slushee. “he has my heart, fuck, he’s got all of our hearts. like, is he an asshole? sure. does he get on my nerves every other day? definitely. will he be the death of me? probably. but i l-”

“i sure hope you’re winding up to something there, sweets.” 

you snap your head up from your dreamy rambling to see richie smirking next to you and eddie squeezing himself next to bill. you feel yourself go bright red at the realisation that he had been listening. 

“i- no. that was it.”  

“you sure? you going off about me... ‘but’...” richie pushes, quoting your words.

“richie, if you genuinely think you have redeeming qualities, i suggest some self-reflection.” stan quipped. “yeah, i was just pointing how much you bother us. no ifs, no buts,” you jokingly agree.

“mean,” richie rolls his eyes, shifting back in his seat next to you.

he’s gotta know... right? 

you wink and stick your tongue out playfully, to which richie raises an eyebrow at. he glances between the blue drink in your hand and your tongue, his gaze on your lips making you nervous. 

“now, what?” you sigh, wiping the ice from your mouth and pretending that you weren’t dying to know what was churning in that brain of his. 

“nothing,” richie shrugs smugly, “just that i’ve always wanted to know how my cock looked blue.”

the comment took you off guard, your instant blush only fuelling richie’s grin. without hesitation, you lean over with a faux-pout, an act that has richie’s eyes wide. “careful there, trashmouth,” you tease loudly. “you keep this up and you’ll see how stan’s looks blue.”

bev immediately gasps with her hand over her mouth, followed by mike’s stifled cackle as he slapped richie’s back. the rest of the group looks frankly stunned, and stan’s face is on a whole different level of red. 

richie doesn’t even look the least bit angry. his jaw is dropped slightly and he runs his hand over his jaw, trying to stop the chuckle that leaves his throat. if anything he looks proud. 

shaking his head with a smile, he slings his arm over your shoulder to pull you closer. “that’s my girl,” he grins.

“yeah, that for sure is tozier’s,” bill says.

there’s no way any of you miss the way richie’s face goes red under that comment and your heart skips a beat when he squeezes your side. when no one’s looking, you lean up and kiss by his ear, absolutely delighted by the deeper shade of red on his face. 

“darl, if you don’t stop that i’m going to go as red as stan,” he whispers into your hair. the both of you look back at the boy who’s trying to concentrate on his slushee and not the blush that’s continued to creep to his neck. “i’m actually getting concerned.”

you giggle, “shh, he’s fine.”

“no really, i give it a couple seconds before eddie pulls out his medical fanny pack,” richie says.

you look up at him as you’re tucked into his side, his arm still slung around your shoulder. his dark hair and eyelashes caught the sunlight, his blue eyes glinting as he glanced back. his lips were tipped into their signature cheeky smile, almost like a cue that he was going to say something out of hand. you felt the swell of your heart grow as he raised his eyebrows, prompting what he knew you were going to say. 

“you know, earlier...” you whisper, looking down to his hand intertwining with yours. “i just... i wanted to say that i... you know... that i-”

“i feel like i should be offended at how hard it is for you to tell me you love me, sweets,” he whispers back, clearly trying to keep a straight face.  fuck.  “oh god please, you know i-” richie shushes you, kissing the crown of your head. “it’s okay, i know.” you can feel the curve of his lips against your hair. “i love you too.”

trying to tame the aggressive blush and stupid smile that reached your face, you follow his gaze over to eddie. just like richie joked, he had this fanny pack laid on the table in front of stan. you weren’t listening to anything they were saying, but you watched the way stan was squirming from eddie, insisting he did not have heatstroke. mike stood right behind stan, pinching his cheeks and periodically wrapping his strong arms around stan to stop him from squirming. bev was leaning across ben and bill’s laps, joining in and poking her fun at eddie and you notice how bill’s hands traces figures along bev’s side. ben gazes at the group of them, chiming in every so often when stan’s quips got too violent. 

it was one of those moments you wish you could freeze. 

after a while, richie whispers into your ear. “do you think they’d even notice if we left for the ferris wheel?”

you break your eye contact from the group to gaze up at him. “nope, not at all. you think you can sneak us some tickets?” 

“please, you think i got kicked out of here for nothing?” he scoffs.

“is this how you’re going to get banned again?” you grin, poking his side, “stealing tickets for your girl?”

with a soft smile, he takes your hand to subtly stand and back away from the group. with stifled giggles, the both of you manage to make it at least twenty feet without the losers even noticing. the second you two were out of earshot, richie wraps his hand around yours and begins to run, “i wouldn't want it any other way."

🎡

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Laisse tomber les filles 4

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; size kink; age gap; manipulation; tags to be added as story progresses

This is a dark!fic and Lee Bodecker x (short) reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You find yourself ostracized on campus by your shyness, but your reticence won’t deter an unwanted suitor.

Note: Things are starting to pick up but Lee’s still playing low key.

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

The book club let out on Friday and you quietly packed up your fraying copy of Nabokov, happy you would finally be able to throw it on the shelf and forget about it. As you pulled on your jacket and hooked your bag over your shoulder, Andre, the star of the club, approached you. He wasn’t as curt as Nora but he still made you feel daft.

“Hey, you like the book?” he asked.

“Um, yeah, I guess,” you answered, “I never really read anything like it before.”

“It’s definitely no Secret Garden,” he quipped.

“Oh, but I read the Bell Jar already, that’s the next book, right?” you countered.

“But did you really read it?” he challenged, “did you soak in the depth of the words?”

“I’m sure my second reading will help with that,” you said plaintively, “I think even, I’ll enjoy it even more.”

“It is more of a woman’s book,” he said tritely, “where are you going now?”

You went to the door and he followed you casually. You walked down the hall and shrugged as your sole tapped on the wooden floorboards.

“Oh…” you stopped yourself from saying no where, “actually, someone’s expecting me.”

“Oh ha, really? I saw those flyers they hand out. That’s one of the tips, say you’re being expected so the creep doesn’t follow you,” he rolled his eyes, “I was just asking, I’m not tryna pick you up or anything.”

You came out in the early spring dusk and stopped at the top of the stone steps. “I know you weren’t, I only… I am supposed to be somewhere.”

“Oh yeah? Well, if you ever need a reading partner--”

A honk came and cut off his invitation. You glanced over at the black and white cruiser then back at Andre. You gave a weak smile.

“Maybe,” you answered, “sorry, that’s my ride.”

“So you’re dad’s a cop?” he wondered.

“My dad?” you shook your head, “he’s… a uh, friend.”

“Friend,” Andre echoed and another honk came, “he’s sure impatient.”

“Sorry, I should go.”

“See ya next week,” he called after you as you stumbled down the stairs.

“Yeah, see ya,” you tossed over your shoulder.

You approached the cruiser and Lee got out to open the door. You got in and waited for him to settle on the other side of the seat. You watched Andre stroll down the pavement and catch up with Van.

“You didn’t have to honk, I saw you,” you said quietly.

“Who was that then?” Lee asked as he steered onto the street.

“Just some guy from the club,” you replied.

“So, shakes?” he asked.

“Can we stop by my dorm first?” you hugged your bag anxiously.

“Why’s that?”

“I want to give you back those clothes, I can’t wear them,” you said.

“What? They’re a gift,” he furrowed his brow but you looked away before he could glance back at you as he stopped at the sign.

“It’s too much and they… they won’t fit me,” you said.

“Well, did you even try them on? You’re young, it’s the new style, I thought--”

“But why would you even think to buy me anything?” you interjected. 

He inhaled and said nothing. His breath rose like a growl as he passed the road that led to your dorm. He switched gears and headed for the south exit of the campus.

“Don’t interrupt me. Ever,” he snarled, “and I was being nice, honey. It’s nothin’ bad, just a gift ‘cause I thought it’d look pretty on ya.”

“It’s not that I’m not, er, grateful, I only--”

“No thank you, no nothing,” he moped, “you really hurt me, girl.”

“No, it’s not like that. I just--”

“Just what? I saw you back there, tryna act like you don’t know me in front of that boy,” he grumbled, “‘cause I’m old, right?”

“We were talking, I was just saying goodbye,” you returned, “I don’t know why you’re being like this-- Can you please turn around and just take me home?”

“You promised me a date,” he huffed, “so we’re going… next time you can wear your new clothes.”

“Date?” you sputtered, “Sheriff, please, I want to go home.”

“My name’s Lee, honey,” he purred, “I wanna hear it on your tongue.”

“Wha--” he snaked his arm over and slid his hand onto your leg, just beneath your bag.

“Go on and say it,” he squeezed, “please.”

You swallowed and stiffened as you stared down at your lap.

“Lee,” you eked out.

“Good girl,” he snickered.

“Please, I don’t want a shake, I want to go--”

“I ain’t done nothing, honey, don’t be so dramatic,” he drew his hand away, “have I?”

You were quiet. He hadn’t really done anything more than be a bit grumpy. The touch was nothing, wasn’t it? Just a friendly gesture, trying to calm you down. And he bought you nice things and expected nothing but you to like it. It really seemed like you’d done something wrong the more you thought about it.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

“Nah, don’t be, I’m happy as long as you’re here,” he turned off of campus and sped up, “I read that book, you know? Lolita. Made patrol a bit easier. I haven’t read a book for years. It was… interesting.”

“You read it?” you flinched.

“Oh, yeah, it was… the man, Humbert, messin’ with a child, that’s some sickness there,” Lee mulled as he kept his eyes on the road, “don’t you think?”

“Um, yeah,” you answered, “I think it was also about, um, you know, an unreliable narrator and how stories unfold differently for people. How we can experience the same thing but not in the same way… I don’t know.”

“Hmm, yeah, that’s probably it,” he said, “but I just thought, that’s awful. You know, we’re adults, you and me. How old are ya, again?”

“I’ll be nineteen this summer, sir,” you replied.

“See, girls here can marry at sixteen,” he said, “but no twelve year old gettin’ hitched.”

“Oh, well,” you murmured, uncomfortable by his rambling, “can I try the vanilla this time?”

“Vanilla? Sure,” he smiled over the wheel, “think I’ll stick to strawberry, I like the sweet stuff.”

📚

The radio show came to an end and you fumbled with your empty cup. The dread still lingered in your chest. You counted the minutes until you could go home. The milkshake settled like a stone and added to your queasiness. Lee put his cup on his other side and yawned.

“Vanilla good?” he asked.

“Not bad,” you answered as he took the cup from you, “it’s late, hm?”

“Not that late,” he slid across the seat as the radio host picked up after the outro, “so you makin’ friends then?”

“Some,” you said, “just talking about schoolwork and, um, books.”

He was close, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off of him. He pushed his arm over your shoulders and let his hand hang down above your chest. You went rigid and tried to sidle away.

“Sheriff?” you croaked.

“Aw, come on, honey, ain’t nothin’ wrong, just getting close, it’s cold, ain’t it?” his other hand came up and caressed your chin, “I like spending time with you… not havin’ to worry about my radio or criminals, just you.”

“I don’t… I think…” you grabbed his wrist, “I thought…”

“I’m just being nice, I’ll admit, I’ve grown a bit sweet on ya. You’re so pretty and that,” he slipped from your grasped and framed your chin and turned your head, “am I hurtin’ ya?”

“N-no, but I…” your lip quivered. 

Was this how it happened? Maybe every girl felt like this the first time a man was near. You didn’t know, you couldn’t. You stared at him wide-eyed as he leaned in and his breath grazed your lips. You smelled the sugary strawberry flavour.

“This hurt?” he asked as his lips brushed yours.

“No,” you gulped as he pulled you to him.

“And this?” he didn’t wait for an answered before he kissed you.

He pressed his lips to your and sucked on your bottom lip. His teeth nipped lightly and he shoved his tongue against the creased of your mouth until you opened it. You garbled as he filled your mouth and hugged you tighter. You were terrified and confused by the suddenness of it all.

You grunted and pushed on his chest. You turned your head away and gasped as you shoved him harder and he relented. His hand slipped to the bottom of your neck as he looked at you in disappointment. 

“What’sa matter?” he asked.

“I… I wanna go home, it’s late,” you whispered.

“Oh honey, don’t be scared, it’s a date, I’m just kissin’ ya good night.”

“I never… said it was a date,” you mumbled.

“And why not?” he pressed, “you’re an adult, I am too.”

“I don’t… know,” you uttered, “I never… never been on a date so I guess I wouldn’t know.”

“I didn’t mean to confuse you, I thought you knew,” he said, “a girl like you, I thought you had plenty of dates.”

You shook your head and chewed your lip. You stared at your shoes and wriggled away from him. You ran your fingertips along your jawline as you huddled against the door.

“Please take me home,” you breathed.

“I didn’t mean nothing by it, I just think you’re very sweet and… beautiful,” he reached out and took your hand gently, “I can go slow.”

“I just don’t know,” you didn’t pull your hand away as he held it.

“Ah, I get it, I’m old, I know it, I ain’t stupid,” he sighed.

“I don’t care about that,” you withdrew and wrung your hands in your lap, “I’m… embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed?” he repeated.

“That I never… That I don’t know about all that,” you confessed, “but I don’t wanna think about that now.”

“Can I see you tomorrow then?” he asked, “I wanna see your new clothes.”

“Sheriff,” you said.

“Lee,” he corrected sharply.

“Lee,” you hissed, “please, can you take me home?”

“Well, you just needa ask nicely is all,” he pushed himself in front of the wheel and jolted the whole car with the movement, “let’s get ya there all safe and sound and you can rest up for tomorrow, huh?”

“I gotta study tomorrow,” you argued.

“You can,” he assured you, “you come study at mine and I’ll make you a nice home cooked dinner, how about that?”

You sniffed and pouted, “sure, if you take me home.”