#this might be my most incoherent post

[mrmanbat]

So I had this idea that big chain business refuse to operate in Gotham.

Not only is it a negative net gain bc of property damage— Gothamites are more than willing to screw them over.

Sure it’s temping to go for the cheaper option, but you know what’s more cheaper? Stealing.

But gothamites got respect for one another. They’re not gonna steal from Meg the small struggling business owner. You’ll get targeted by two different gangs if you hurt Meg. Meg is willing to give her left leg for her loyal customers and that gets her respect.

But McDonald’s isn’t Meg. McDonald’s got no respect.

This is also why there are so many local chain restaurants, like Batburger.

At least they understand if they start charging half a cent more the people will revolt.

The people of Gotham may hate each other but they got class loyalty.

[velvetjune]

Jesse would probably have the same reaction to Saga’s profiling as Tor or Odin, being able to directly communicate, which would lead to the best situation of both of them just staring into space while they’re silently and psychically communicating at random times

[eldritchamy]

A question for Uneiverse (to give you an excuse to talk about it, only if you wanna. Since I also just really hearing about it). What's a detail about it that you really enjoy but haven't gotten a chance to use anywhere story related or otherwise just don't get to play with much (silly or serious)

This ask has been sitting in my inbox for over 5 months.

It's time.

And so, we begin with a question of my own.

What IS time?

We're off the map now. Come with me. Take my hand as we walk through the valley of the shadow of time. We're going to uncharted waters, and I'm going to put the fear of god into you. I'm going to make you ask yourself (and me) Amy, how the fuck does you brain WORK like that?

Let me tell you about time and fate, and about what it means to "predict" the future.

And you will begin to understand the scale of what lives within me, eternally gnawing at the inside of my skull, begging for release.

If I asked you to conceptualize time, what would you say? Is it the neat and rigid tick-tick-ticking of regular intervals on the clock? Is is the fluid, indivisible space between?

Is is all just an illusion conceived by the animal brain to account for the changing shape of the universe as one dimension passes through another, which our three-dimensional eyes are too flat to see all at once, and our souls have concocted for us a comforting lie, that we may pretend to know the universe in its whole, by knowing it piece by infinitesimal, grinding piece, seeing the pan-dimensional amalgam of existence as an endless, continuous sequence of cross-sections in a number of dimensions our meat-circuitry can pretend to process?

Time is shadows.

Imagine, if you will, a sphere.

You hold it up against the light. Suspend it in the air, perhaps, for simplicity's sake. And the sphere casts a shadow.

Is the shadow still a sphere?

Far more importantly, is it even a circle?

At even the tiniest fraction of an angle, the sphere casts a shadow that no longer perfectly represents a cross section of the sphere. It has ceased to perfectly capture the nature of the object that cast the shadow, even accounting for the wrong number of dimensions. It's skewed. You can never unskew it. The distortion is irreversible.

And the floor isn't flat.

The sphere casts a shadow at an angle at a surface that ranges in distance and direction from the object casting the shadow. Is the shadow still an oval? Has it become a shape you can't name?

But the shadow isn't cast upon a floor, even an uneven one.

What shape is the shadow of a sphere cast at an angle upon a field of grass blowing in the wind? By now there's no pretending you know the answer. And even if you could snapshot a single instant of a single shape, the very next instant that shape would change in the breeze as the grass shifts.

The world is not a field of grass upon the ground. The world is endless variation of leaves upon trees, forests upon mountains, birds in the sky, hunting for the bugs that crawl on the branches of the trees. Massive floating pools of water churning in the low atmosphere as humans decide whether that one looks like a mouse or a sheep. So many humans walking, their clothes flowing behind them as they talk, eat, buy goods, shed tiny particles of skin and hair into the wind, their breath adding chaos to that same wind and a hundred miles away a leaf turns slightly more to the left than if that human had said nothing.

What is the shadow of a sphere cast upon that world? Twisted by its unfathomable complexity of shapes and movement?

And now, to make things worse, imagine if that shadow were a tangible thing that you could pick up. That could cast its own shadow not on the floor but up against the wall.

And all of that is if the shadow is cast by a perfect sphere.

Imagine you are a being that can see the shape of time. Could you look at the echo of a shadow of a shadow of a reflection in a fun house mirror, and recreate what it once was?

Could you look at a crooked set of lines upon the wall and know the meaning of cause and consequence? Could you predict what consequences of which actions would lead to favorable outcomes when realization dawns on you that

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖕𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖍𝖆𝖘 𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖙𝖍, 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖎𝖙 𝖎𝖘 𝖘𝖔. 𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖞. 𝖍𝖚𝖓𝖌𝖗𝖞.

Time is an ocean of possibility. Each possibility has consequences. Each consequence a sea of new possibilities. How can you hope to understand the shadow of a shadow of a shadow, and not only know what's coming, but how to stop it?

Nothing is fated. But I said something important that bears repeating. Time is an OCEAN. We'll come back to that.

Time MOVES, at least the way we perceive it. I don't like the phrase "everything happens for a reason." I prefer something of my own creation: for every effect, a cause. To achieve a desired effect - a desired outcome - you must change the circumstances of cause that lead to that effect. But there are limits to your influence.

The time to change the course of a river is when the river is still small. The longer that river runs its course, the deeper it shapes and erodes the ground around it. The larger and faster a river the harder it is to redirect it. It will go where it's going, and there's nothing you can do about it. There is an element of momentum that must be accounted for. An element of inevitability.

The path of one person's life, one set of choices available to them in one specific context, may feel perhaps like the current of a river, when you look back on it. But if different changes were made during its formation, it could have taken a completely different path. Ended in a completely different place. And influenced the formation of completely different paths in the future as a result.

But I'll say it again, and you'll know its significance now: time is an OCEAN. It is not a river, but an IMMENSE network of currents with no clearly defined borders, flowing with or against or around each other in an unimaginably complex churning of possibility and consequence and cause and effect. A shift in one current may brush up against another. The second current may shift with it, or crash violently into it, or ignore it entirely.

For every effect, a cause. But for every CAUSE, many POSSIBLE effects.

So time becomes a series of choices beyond number. Each choice leading to fathomless changes in the flow. As the earth turns, some currents flow inevitably in certain directions. If not here, then somewhere else. SOME CHANGES ARE INESCAPABLE.

The universe must be dynamic. If nothing changed, the universe would not need to exist at all. Change is the point. Variance is the point. Choice is the point. The universe exists to know itself, and it knows itself through change.

There is an endless sea of currents flowing in various ways with, beside, against, around each other. Some directions of flow are strongly influenced by the shape of the seafloor and the rotation of the earth. There are changes in the world that are virtually guaranteed to exist, whether because the nature of the universe has made them inevitable, or because changes long past have created the currents that are now too old and too deep to change.

Picture a river again. What happens when you throw a stick into it? The stick is swept up in the current and carried along the river.

Throw in more sticks. Same thing, right? You can make small changes without affecting the overall outcome. Within one large shadow of a sphere, the details of a hundred blades of grass whose shadows are lost within the larger shape.

Anchor a large stick to the riverbed so it can't get swept away. Now, it's just one stick. The water will flow around it. There are small ripples. Tiny changes in the river, micro-currents that will affect a localized area. But on the whole? The river still flows. You changed something. But you didn't change the course of the river.

Add stick after stick after stick until the river is obstructed completely, and the current is forced to change shape.

Which stick built the dam?

Which straw should the camel's back blame?

Back to the ocean. Can you dam the sea? Can you build that dam one stick at a time, by throwing sticks into separate currents, hoping the currents bring them where they need to be in time?

There are patterns borne out from the endless flow of possibility as the ocean of time churns. With all those ancient currents running together, what difference does the wake of a boat make on the shape of the waves? How many breaches from how many whales would it take to turn a current south instead of north?

What if you could make a bigger change? What if an avalanche altered the shape of the seafloor, so the rotation of the earth forces new waters to resist the old currents? So the inevitability of the dynamic universe drags forth a new set of possibilities?

There are a LOT of currents. They've been turning for a long, long time, ebbing and flowing with a billion tides and ten thousand quintillion waves. Choices can make new currents. BIG choices, with a lot of consequences, may even change existing ones.

But the ocean still has a geography to it. There are places where water is forced through the gaps between landmasses, or forced into the shallows, or freed to dive into the black beyond a continental shelf. There are places where, no matter how many changes you make, many currents are still guaranteed to meet.

There are fixed points in time.

What if one of those points is a whirlpool, threatening to swallow everything drawn into the place those currents meet?

What about a whirlpool on the scale of worlds and gods?

How do you keep from drowning?

How do you give yourself the best chance, not of AVOIDING the whirlpool of inevitability, but of entering it at the farthest possible edge, where the right momentum, the right decisions made in the moment you are caught in its gravity, may carry you through to the other side, so you still remain when time marches on?

Is it better to see things coming at all? Or is the ability to see time, to speak a language of the universe that no one else can speak, one of the greatest cosmic horrors you can imagine?

Imagine the burden of time on those who can see it.

Imagine the WEIGHT of being able to see those currents. Of knowing which threads of fate to pull. Of knowing which ripples to make, which waves to break, which currents to shift. Of knowing.

Imagine the complexity of figuring out WHICH changes to make. And the great leviathan of guilt left on your shoulders when the decisions you made - even in pursuit of the best possible outcome - bring harm to the ones you love most, the ones you're most desperate to protect.

Even if you're right.

Even if you played 17-dimensional chess with the wizard-addled corpse of god and knew, with certainty, that if a single problem you had a hand in creating had been resolved more neatly by even minutes, the sticks would not have fallen into place within the dam, and the entirety of creation could have been swallowed piece by piece by the horror you were trying to stop.

Imagine the horror. Imagine the responsibility. Imagine the unending, agonizing pain of the burden of Knowing.

Because what time is, most of all, is a nightmare.

And there's no waking up.

[minionwater]

sallies _:(´ཀ`」 ∠):_

[uncivilcivilservice]

Look, I'm just saying, AO3 authors better not be lying when they say they like long comments on their fics because my rambly ass will use up almost all of that character count if given the chance

[uchimakis]

been seeing so much unnecessary bi mike slander on my dash recently. sometimes selfcare is blocking 15 people and going into the bi mike tag for an hour <3

[thatlittledandere]

Makin a fantroll :3 Started out as a sona but then I ended up giving her like, an actual personality, separate from mine. I mean we did end up sharing some traits - we are all the mask and the wearer and all that - but nevertheless this isn't a sona anymore. NOW I'm trying to not make her too Vriska LMAO

[narrativedoomed]

anyway sorry ab not being here i kinda forgot it existed

[ninanation]

You were so right when you recommended Freedom from the Pretty Woman musical to me as a Kyoya/Kyokao song

im pretty sure its a running joke in the kyokao fandom that they actively make each other worse which i think is absolutely hilarious (because like, yeah annoying capitalist x annoying capitalist) but what are some of the ways you think they improve each other? :D /gen

Great question!

I think Kyoya makes Kaoru more ambitious. Kaoru is smart enough to skirt by most of the time without much effort or forethought. I would not hesistate to believe that he and Hikaru are only doing like half their subjects and then taking tests for each other. I also think Kaoru is immature and nebulous about the future and what he wants from it.

Someone like Kyoya, who is very goal oriented and future focused would be somewhat of a motivating factor. Hikaru and Kaoru's decision to go to Tokyo University is more triggered by Haruhi and Nanako than Kyoya's still pending decision to stay in Boston, but I think Kyoya seeing what he wants and going for it is impressive. I think Kaoru would take his work more seriously, maybe take more of an interest in the business side of things if Kyoya made it more fun.

Meanwhile, I think Kaoru would motivate Kyoya to reevaluate what he thinks freedom means. Freedom is Kaoru's family motto and something Kyoya strives for and thinks he has- but has he? I think in the same way Tamaki makes him reevaluate the box his father has put him in, Kaoru would help recontextualise that a bit more. Yes, you don't have to be trapped in the expectations of your birthright, but maybe you don't need to be beholden to anyone's expectations of you- Kyoya himself said it doesn't matter as long as the people he cares about knows who he is, so maybe he should live by that instead.

The host club in general convinces Kyoya to have a bit more fun, but I think even Kaoru's specific situation- overshadowed by his elder brother, possibly disinherited due to reasons unrelated to merit- and the fact that Kaoru would be entirely unbothered by it would allow Kyoya to maybe reevaluate his options and pick ones that allow him that freedom. After all, those who live freely are the winners, right? And Kyoya wants to win.

I think this "Kaoru makes Kyoya a freer spirit" stops slightly short of Kaoru getting him on a motorbike at any point.

Basically, I think they mellow each other out. Kaoru works harder, Kyoya becomes less of a workaholic. Kaoru becomes a little more self-possessed, Kyoya becomes a little bit freer.

I also think, as me and @pilindiel were only discussing earlier, they mesh pretty well with each other's anxieties. They're two people who believe that they can only be love for the mask they put on, and two people who quite easily see through each other's masks. As long as the people you care about know who you are, nothing else matters- is as much about Kaoru as it is about Kyoya. It's an inadvertant, egotistical admission by Kyoya that he does know who Kaoru is and Kaoru does care about him, and vice a versa. Platonically, and bewildering to Kaoru at this point, but important nonetheless. Kyoya proves his point by even saying it and articulating it as a viewpoint that Kaoru would share- because he does know who Kaoru is, and nothing else about it matters.

But yeah, Kyoya believes that it is more important for the people he cares about to know him than it is for them to love him. And Kaoru is kind of into the whole evil scheming ambition thing so that negates that concern. And Kaoru meanwhile is terrified of being made obsolete and being left behind. Which is negated somewhat by Kyoya being the kind of guy with the dedication to stick to his convictions, one of which he has decided is the perpetuity of the host club. And one would be Kaoru too, of course.

Also just tacking on at the end because I'm rambling too much. I think Kyoya would make Kaoru more independent-- something Kaoru already strives for a bit more of, but there's nothing like giving someone a reason not to share a bedroom with their sibling anymore as that final push. And I think Kaoru would encourage Kyoya to be less self-isolating, less of a lone wolf. Mainly because he likes getting into other people's business. Kaoru loves teamwork <- freak.

[dayslynthesix]

max verstappen x female!oc cat mom | smau

the one max verstappen follows a instagram account where the owner just post her cats (and one dog named max)

petsbymia

liked by mirianb_, maxverstappen1, verstappen.com and others

petsbymia mirabell chilling during the break moments after she scratched me to death ☠️ anyway, she's adorable 🥰

maxverstappen1 she's adorable 🥰🥰

petsbymia she is!! what's not adorable is the scratches i have all over my arm!!

maxverstappen1 im positive she had a reason for it!

petsbymia YEAH I WENT TO PET HER!!

catlovers omg look how cute 😍

mirianb_ ohhhh she's lovely!! i miss my little partner!! 🥰🥰

ilovemycats that's a pretty nice name, i wish i have thought about it 😜

petsbymia i named her after the mirabeu haute in the monaco circuit!! it's my dad favorite part of the track

charles_leclerc your dad have great taste 👌🏻

petsbymia he's also a mercedes fan!

charles_leclerc your dad have a terrible taste

maxverstappen1 your dad have a terrible taste

gabig_ don't say nasty things about uncle!!!!

ilovemycats im ignoring the full argument... wait so you named your cat after something f1 related?? unfollowing you NOW! f1 is not even a proper sport

petsbymia i knowwww im sorry 😭

petsbymia

liked by mirianb_, maxverstappen1, verstappen.com and others

petsbymia yeah i got a black cat to name him salem even though i know how historically incoherent it is, he's pretty fucking cute though 🥰 i miss him and i think i lost him 😭😭

maxverstappen1 cute 😍 😍😍

mirianb_ okay i need to tell you now or else i think you might have a heart attack, salem is with me! i kidnapped him, sorry 😘

petsbymia OMG MIRIAN I HATE YOU I'VE BEEN CRYING FOR LIKE HOURS

maxverstappen1 i lost my cats once i can say: that's not very nice of you mirianb_

mirianb_ ok hold on for a sec... aren't you a f1 driver? MIA WHY THERE'S A F1 DRIVER IN YOU COMENTS SECTION

miamilani i mean it's not my section, it's my pets one

maxverstappen1 i saw the cats once and i thought they looked cute so i followed the profile and they're cute so sue me?

mirianb_ omg you're so cat dad coded!

catslovers forever missed salem!!

ilovemycats oh noo, mirian, how could you kidnap little salem dear???

mirianb_ in my self defense, chaos (my cat) miss his friend so i took matter with my own hands

maxverstappen1 has asked to follow miamilani

maxverstappen1 started to follow miamilani

miamilani started to follow maxverstappen1

petsbymia

liked by mirianb_, maxverstappen1, verstappen.com and others

petsbymia bath day and i can say max, salem and mirabell hated EVERY crazy second of it 🤪

maxverstappen1 why is your dog named max? 🤨🤨

petsbymia funny story, my best friend also has a collie and he's also named max so i thought it would be funny, now we have max 1 and max 2 right allycmpbll

allycmpbll it's my brother's dog but whatever to make you happy 😍😍

catlovers ok i see now why salem got you all scratched, he clearly is french and you're making him shower

petsbymia stop insulting my cat! he's not french at all, i found him near modena, hes italiano 🇮🇹🤌🏻

collielovers i mean we NEED to put all the collies together

petsbymia no, we don't! i can barely keep it up with ONE border collie

gabig_ i told you!!! i fucking told you when you decided to have a collie that you didn't have the energy for it

ilovemycats salem looks miserable 😭😭

miamilani

liked by mirianb_, maxverstappen1, verstappen.com, norarilley and others

miamilani our dogs, my cats and my best friends, love you miri, happy crazy birthday to you and i hope a bunch of cars going in circle makes you happy tomorrow

mirianb_ im so much more happy when im with you! thanks for all these years of friendship 🩷

gabig_ all of us together until the end

allycmpbll happiest bday to the most annoying person in the world

maxverstappen1 happy birthday, mirian, i feel that you don't like me but anyway

mirianb_ it's not personal mr. verstappen, im a simple mercedes girl 😎

petsbymia

liked by mirianb_, maxverstappen1, verstappen.com and others

petsbymia taking the kids to see nona (my mum) mirabell took a nap on my mom's bed, salem took my dad spot on the couch and max ate at least 15 different plants, looking forward to came back again for christmas

maxverstappen1 omg they're so cute and so adorable, im starting to think they have their mom's charm 😅

gabig_ that was supposed to be a flirt? cause god it was awful

petsbymia it was not, it was cute, my pets are as charming as i am!

mirianb_ your dad a few years ago "i don't like pets, im allergic, they're too messy", your dad today "here salem, my bed is your bed now"

petsbymia *proceds to sleep on the couch*

catslover how were you able to get the most charismatic pets in the world?

petsbymia avengers, assemble!

collielovers salem and mirabell they're VERY cute but i cant with max, he's so gentleman coded 🥹

maxverstappen1 i was about to ask whay the fuck have i eaten but my mind went back working again

charles_leclerc again? naive of you to assume your mind worked those past few months

lewishamilton your mind was literally a mud puddle

maxverstappen1 ok stop the bullying now

petsbymia yeah boys, stop the bullying ✋🏻

maxverstappen1

liked by pierregasly, redbullracing, miamilani, petsbymia and others

maxverstappen1 jimmy and sassy appreciation post 🧡🧡🧡

petsbymia mirabell and salem wants to meet jimmy and sassy 🥰

miamilani smooth!

verstappencom the most adorable ones!!

redbullracing we're waiting to see them again! 🥰

see other comments

miamilani

liked by maxverstappen1, verstappen.com, redbullracing, miriamb_ and others

miamilani so here's a funny story i don't know how i ended up here cause i was only answering a random dude on my pets profile (random dude is a formula one champion - i don't know what that means)

gabig_ mia still pretending not to know shit about motorsport when her cat is named after a part of a circuit, tsc tsc

allycmpbll years of asking you to go to interlagos with me and now you're just a gp because a random dude asked you to?

maxverstappen1 excuse me, random dude here, it was very difficult

mirianb_ is it always that loud?

petsbymia we miss you mum!

mirianb_ who's the admin on the pets account while you're away????

roscoelovescoco i also miss my dad!

maxverstappen1 i cant believe lewis got the mind to open roscoes account, search mia, search the comment and respond it, dude, weren't you supposed to be working?

lewishamilton i am working, the car, on the other way around...

miamilani OMG LEWIS HIIIII!!! IM SUCH A GREAT FAM OF YOU, OMG IM LOOKING FORWARD TO SEE YOU DRIVING A FERRARI!!!!!

user182 ok so who is she?

user713 apparently is max new girlfriend

user182 she's a cat mom i think i will like her

maxverstappen1

liked by mirianb_, miamilani, redbullracing, f1, petsbymia and others

maxverstappen1 getting out of the weekend after maxplaining all i could to a pet mom 😜

miamilani sure, whatever you say! interlagos is still better than zandvoort

redbullracing hope we got another one for the redbull army

miamilani not happening, adm, not happening!!

verstappencom 💥💥

see other comments

maxverstappen1 has added a story | miamilani has added a story

trying to teach her how to work the sim

charles_leclerc answered your story

any luck?

maxverstappen1

lol she's better than you

thanks max for letting me win (if he says i pushed him out of track hes lying 😝

maxverstappen1 has answered your story

lies!!! you pushed me wild

miamilani

boooo 😚 im better than youuu

[shoyosdoll]

Warnings : Contains 18+ content! somewhat rough sex, kitchen sex, squirting, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, creampie.

dividers by @cafekitsune

A/N : this is my first time writing & posting on tumblr, so feedback would be greatly appreciated!! might start posting as a little hobby since i enjoy reading so much <3 enjoy!!

Satoru Gojo who had the day off and planned on spending the entire day with his love, you. Taking you out on dates, going shopping, stop by the bakery, the whole 9 yards.

Satoru Gojo who receives a call from one of the higher ups and despite wanting to ignore it, he picks up the calling only because you said to.

Satoru Gojo who's not surprised he gets sent out on a sudden mission to kill a special grade because 'it's too powerful & it'd only take him a few minutes'. To say he was beyond frustrated already was an understatement.

Satoru Gojo who did not end up taking 'just a few minutes' and more like 'just a few hours' because one special grade turned into 3 and 3 turned into 8, who then had to report back to the higher ups and told them he'd be taking the following day off COMPLETELY.

Satoru Gojo who returns home to you agitated, hungry, but most importantly missing his sweet girl.

Satoru Gojo who walks in on you in the kitchen finishing up on dinner and sees you clad in nothing but one of his dress shirts and a pink apron tied around you, from so much moving around he could even catch a glimpse of your baby pink polka doted panties 'cute' he thought.

Satoru Gojo who wastes no time in walking over to you turning off his infinity and wrapping his arms around your waist, reaching up to turn off the stove and press sloppy kisses against your neck as you squirm in his hold.

Satoru Gojo who turns both of you around and presses you up against the island rutting his cock against your ass, mumbling about how much he missed you throughout the day and about how the only thing he wanted was his pretty girls pussy wrapped around him.

"you can give me one more, can't you baby? j-just for me?" Satoru babbled nearly incoherent himself as he worked himself well past overstimulation, just refusing to pull out of your sweet cunt. Food long forgotten and cold as Gojo pulled orgasm after orgasm from you, proving to you just how much he missed your sweet cunt throughout the day. Your hands reached up weakly pushing at his abdomen to get some sort of break, "no m-mmore toruuuu! 's t'much!" you cried out as he used one of his large hands to shove your hands away roughly. Gojo quickly manhandled your smaller body to place your legs over his shoulders and pinning your arms above your head with his free hand, lining up his cock with your creamy cunt he resumed his merciless thrusts as he leaned over your body putting you into a mating press. "one more and we’re done baby, need y'to cream 'n squirt for me, c'mon! show toru how much you missed him." Using his free hand he drew tight and fast circles on your pretty little pearl causing your back to arch off the island, your cries getting louder as you felt that strange sensation bubbling in your tummy just like before- yet stronger this time. Gojo could tell you were teetering right off the edge causing his own cock to twitch inside you, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he leaned close to your ear letting out sweet whines and moans just for you to hear. "let go f'me.. fuckin' cum for me, s-sweet thing" Your body going ridged as you let out a pornographic moan as your orgasm washed through you soaking your boyfriends uniform & effectively making a mess in the kitchen, Gojo thrusted once, twice more into your pussy before pulling himself back to wrap his hands around your thighs to pull you nice n snug against his hips as he came undone. "atta fuckin' girl! so good f'me.." He gave you a dopey smile as he leaned down to kiss all over your face softly & whisper soft praises into your ear as you came down from your intense high.

[roseykat]

TITLE: How they are when they cum

SYNOPSIS: OT8 version of...the title x

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won't be able to regulate/monitor every single potential interaction with these posts so please do not engage with my work and page whatsoever.

TAGS: mentions/descriptions of orgasms, blowjobs, sex positions. Nothing too major.

A/N: Take this as a filler while I wrap up my post for Shutterfly Butterfly. I actually really enjoyed creating these blurbs and will do more in the future.

BANG CHAN

Groans and grunts. He’s pretty vocal in bed and on the very strong occasion where he cums as hard as he always does, he’ll announce it, and it’s the hottest thing ever. There’s nothing sexier than a man expressing how much pleasure they’re in through such an erotic thing. Usually his moans and incoherent words sound so panicked before he combusts inside of you, like he’s dying to cum but doesn’t want to yet so as to savour your warm, wet, heat wrapping around his cock. 

-

MINHO

Is gripping onto you when he cums. Whether it’s by digging his nails into the skin and flesh of your hips or ass, grabbing a fistful of your hair, groping your tits - he needs something to help him channel such a surge of pleasure when he orgasms. His moans are very breathy and very consistent. He won’t always announce that he’ll cum but you can tell when he does. If it’s not the warm load inside of you, it’ll be the silence he exudes that will give it away. For some reason, that’s how you can identify how hard he’s actually cumming. 

-

CHANGBIN

Will not shut up, and you don’t want him to either. Every ounce of pleasure he gets from fucking you, sends him into another realm. But when he cums? A whole other level. The pleasure is out of his depth that it rattles throughout every cell in his body. His eyes will flutter, mouth slightly ajar for your name to spill out. When he cums, he also has the tendency to bury his face into your neck, depending on the position. Not because he’s ashamed, but because he just doesn’t know how to deal with the overwhelming waves of euphoria. 

-

HYUNJIN

He will moan your name repeatedly and it’ll be in the most beautiful airy voice known to this earth. Sometimes he can be quiet but not intentionally. He’s just trying his best not to cum so quickly and feels that hearing his own moans mixed with yours will get him there faster when he actually wants to drag out how good he feels for as long as he can. He’ll mutter quietly to you against your lips that he’s ‘gonna cum’ and when he does, his forehead might rest on yours or he’s kissing you as he’s cumming, and he’s all flustered and rushed. 

-

HAN

Whiny. Whiny as fuck and whimpers. He tries to stifle his moans with the back of his hand or maybe he’ll be biting down on your shoulder or something. But when you have both of his hands cuffed or pinned by the sides of his head when you ride him, he is the loudest, whiniest person in existence. You’ve even thought about gagging him, especially before he cums at least. He’s so prone to being overstimulated a lot and has most definitely cried before when you’ve made him orgasm. 

-

FELIX

Will most likely say to you “gonna make me cum,” every time the two of you have sex or you’re giving him head, right before he orgasms. He wants you to know that you’re the one unraveling his sanity for a good thirty seconds. Felix is vocal, loud, and almost borderline whiny. Despite having such a deep voice, his whimpers can be the complete opposite. It’s just a sign that he’s struggling to deal with so much pleasure that his body can possibly handle. 

-

SEUNGMIN

Sometimes he might hold his breath when he cums because he is just in so much of a state of pleasure, his body doesn’t know how to react. Therefore, you might not always get sounds out of him - which is good because that’s how you know he’s cumming hard. If you’re perhaps giving him a blowjob, his head will tip back, voice lodged in his throat until he’s spilling white wherever you’ll let him. But in the few seconds after he cums, Seungmin is either swearing or moaning as well; most of the time, both.

-

JEONGIN

Similar to most; moans a lot to a T. He can get sort of embarrassed by it even though you reassure him that it’s okay to express how good you feel in the moment, especially after you told him how much you like it. From there he’s become a bit more relaxed and now he won’t hold back. They’re sort of high pitched, but low and strained in some cases when he’s absolutely railing you. Will also breathe out “baby” over and over again as he approaches the edge of his orgasm.

[rottenpumpkin13]

asgzc, who has the most difference between their normal everyday speaking voice and their "i am talking to an animal i think is terribly cute" voice?

Sephiroth: Normal Voice: Deep, commanding, intimidating. Makes cadets cry by just saying "Good morning." Pet Voice: Same rich, resonant tone, but the content is so bafflingly out-of-character that people don't believe it until they see him petting a cat while casually saying "Your behavior is exemplary, Mr. Mittens. Well done. I shall give you a fish snack, and we shall feast to celebrate."

Angeal: Normal Voice: Stern, mentoring tone. The voice of responsibility and SOLDIER honor. Pet Voice: Reduced to an incoherent puddle of affection. Guard Hound pups make him coo like a doting parent. "Who's the good boy? Oh, you're the BEST boy! Look at those little paws—stop it, you're breaking my heart!" If the puppy tilts its head, Angeal might actually weep.

Genesis: Normal Voice: Reserved, articulate, soft-spoken, theatrical, sophisticated. Pet Voice: All sophistication evaporates the moment he spots a fluffy creature. "Look at this adorable creature! LOOK AT IT. I MUST have them. Oh, my goddess Minerva, the EARS! I could pen sonnets to the sheer magnitude of such endearing charm!" <- probably talking about Sephiroth in his lap lbr.

Zack: Doesn't count because there's no difference. He talks to everyone and everything in the same excited puppy voice anyway.

Zack: Hey, buddy! Who's ready to play? You are! Wanna go for a walk? Yes you do! Oh yes you do! Who's my cute buddy?? Cloud: …………

Cloud: Normal Voice: Shy, soft-spoken, quiet, polite. Pet voice: What throws people off is that Cloud is surprisingly conversational toward animals.

Cloud: So, there I was, trying to get through my post, and of course, Sephiroth showed up again. What do you think I should do? Do I confront him about it? The cat who may or may not be Sephiroth: No. Cloud: Yeah, I guess you're right—OI!

[erenjaegerwifee]

Summers In Pandora 🌸 Day 1 - Age Gap

Paring: Jake x Fem!Na’vi!Reader

Summary: You help Jake relief some stress after a long day

Warnings: MDNI 18+, orals (m receiving), p in v, cheating, established relationship, Jake loving on you, explicit language.

Word Count: 1.5k

Disclamer: all my characters are aged-up! Please if you are uncomfortable reading DO NOT interact with any of my post.

main m.list | event m.list

“Hey- woah you look like shit” you say as Jake strolls in your hut. “Thanks so much for your useless input” he rolls his eyes and gives you with his sarcastic words as he sits on your hammock. “Damn, don’t bite my head off, why are you here shouldn’t you be at home?” you tease him. 

“Haha very funny, come here baby” he stretches his arm out and gestures ‘come here’ with two of his fingers. Your tail sways when you walk up to him in between his legs, you run your hand though his dreads and pulls his head up to look up you. Jake’s chin rets on your stomach as he looks up at you smiling down at him, “What happen?” you mused. 

“I can’t just wanna see my girl” 

“Nice try, you have more than one of those” Jake groans at your words falling back on your hammock still looking up at you, “Don’t remind me, they just won’t give me a break these kids are driving me crazy, how did I ground Lo’ak and he still managed to piss off someone I have to apologize too, and your sister, I just do everything wrong.” he rubs his hands over his eyes and sighs into your hammock. 

“Why don’t you just stay here tonight? Tell her you got caught you when you go home tomorrow” you pout slight. You sit your body on his lap and lean down to rest your hands on his chest. You dip your head into his neck to kiss him, “Been so long since you stayed over, I miss you tìyawn(love)”   

Jake mumbles some incoherent words and wraps his big arms around your body and your melt into his warm skin. His hand comes down to squeeze your ass toying with the flesh making you hum into his skin. “Yea? And if I stay, what are you gonna do for me?”  

Jake sits his body up bringing you with him, now your head is slightly higher than his and he looks up at you flirtatiously bringing his lips closer to yours. You lean in kissing his slowly feeling the way his tongue licks your bottom lip as if asking for permission to enter your mouth. You tilt your head bringing your hands up to his face deepening the kiss as he rocks back and forth slightly. 

“Well, I wanna help you out tìyawn, wanna make you feel better...” you trail off opening your lips a bit for him to slide his tongue in. Jake explores every corner of the inside of your mouth like he’s never done it before as his hands roam your body feeling your soft tight skin.  

Ever since you met, Jake has always been attracted to your small figure and young age, when he met your sister and mated her you were sixteen so he never made any moves, you being underage at the time. But the suddenly you turned twenty-three and you were beautiful. You always had an eye on Jake, he was always attractive in your opinion. You just never considered he might have felt the same way about you. Jake ruined so much men for you in the pass, you always found yourself comparing any other man to him and they always lose even though Jake wasn’t even yours.  

He is now even if it’s a secret, you love him dearly, he should have been your mate, you could have made him so happy, you do. You never complain when he asks you to do something, you cook and clean like a good little house wife. If you could, you would have his babies too...you wondered if he would want that. 

“Oh yea? And how were you planning on doing that?” he squeezes the flesh of your hips as you break and kiss and slide off his lap, “I want you to cum in my mouth.” you say as you situate yourself in between his thick thighs. Jake looks down at you with so much love, he looks at you like you are the most beautiful girl in the clan. He runs his hands into your braids pushing it back to get a better view of your face, “You’re so pretty babygirl so fucking gorgeous.” his big palm comes down to caress your cheeks squeezing your cheeks together opening your mouth.  

Jake watches you untie his loincloth tossing it over your shoulder on the floor. You take his length in your hands and stroke him softly; he throws his head back feeling you squeeze his cock tip. His hands are place behind him holding up his body and he looks back down at you, watching you lick a stride up his length. 

Jake groans at the feeling when you take his head into your warm mouth. Your tongue runs circles around the tip as he whimpers above you. Jake’s head has always been sensitive, he always loved the way you just knew how to please him, that’s why he loves you so much. 

You bob your head up and down on him going deeper each stroke of your mouth. You gag when his tip touched the back of your throat when he’s only half way in. Jake was a moaner, his little whimpers were always so cute to hear, especially when you were the reason it was happening. “Feels good tìyawn?” you say in a sweet voice when you pull his tip out of your mouth with a pop. 

Jake mumbles some incoherent words and wraps his big arms around your body and your melt into his warm skin. His hand comes down to squeeze your ass toying with the flesh making you hum into his skin. “Yea? And if I stay, what are you gonna do for me?”

You roll your tongue around his cock bringing your hand up to stroke what can’t fit in your mouth. Jake grips your hair pressing your face further onto his cock as his cum shoots into your mouth. Your greedily swallow every bit of it as it comes feeling his cock twitch in your mouth and listening to his moans. When you pull your head up and wipe the corner of your mouth, you look up at his sweating, panting figure admiring his strong chest and arms. Jake really is such a dilf, especially with that little punch he has. Your think it’s so sexy the way he looks all the time, no matter what this man does he looks hot. 

Jake looks down at you to see your gaze already on him, your eyes are hungry like they always are when you finish sucking his cock. He knows you want him to fuck you, to make you cum on his cock the way you love, that no other man can do for you. “Come on baby get up” he demanded. 

You stumble as you stood up now looking down at him. Jake’s hands move up to your chest cover made of beads and rip it off your chest exposing your tits. The action catches your off guard making you gasp but you don’t really miss the top when his fingers come to flick your nipples. Jake seamlessly pulls you into his lap, your legs wrap around the back of his waist. He brings his head down to lap at your nipples making you squirm in his grasp. While he does so, he unties your loincloth slipping it off your body and raising you up to line up with is cock. 

Jake doesn’t stop his attack on your tits when he lowers you down slowly, stretching you out on his cock. Your both moan in unison as he bottoms out inside you. Jake doesn’t wait before he’s lifting your body up and down on him making you whimper. He bounces you on his cock faster and faster until you’re mewling loudly with every thrust. He bucks his hips up into you meeting you half way and increases his pace.  

Jake has your mind running circles from the pleasure, you can only think about his cock moving in and out of you so perfectly, like you were made for this. “Jake! Gonna cum! Gonna cumm!” you scream on him; your words stutter out getting continuous cut by his thrust. 

“Yea babygirl cum for me, cum on my cock” his voice was deep, panting into your chest. Jake admires the why your face screws up and your tits bounce in his face. His words send you hurling towards your orgasm gushing in his cock and thighs. Jake follows right after you pulling you down harshly cuming in your sweet cunt.  

When you look down at him again, you pull him in for a sweet kiss letting his tongue slip into your mouth before you pull yourself off his lap. You walk backwards away from him, “I hope you aren’t too tired tìyawn…” you smile at him cheekily as you turn around, getting on the floor on all fours.

Your tail sways in the air as you show off your gaping, wet pussy to him. Your hips move from side to side enticing him to come for you while you look back at him with seductive eyes. “Come get me baby I want you” you words make him growl as he stands up walking towards you.

Jake gets down on his knees behind you, rubbing his hands up and down your ass. He spanks and squeezes the flesh that slowly turns purple, he knows you love it when he spanks you. Jake raises his eyes to look towards your face sporting a sweet blush and biting your bottom lip at the feeling of his hands roaming your body.

You feel Jake move his hands down to your pussy holding both sides with his thumbs and spreading you open, “Such a good girl for me. You love taking my cock don’t you?” You nod your head vigorously answering, “yes sir..” your voice sounds desperate you want him to stick it back in so bad.

Jake loves watching you get desperate for him, he loves seeing you squirm and push back on him like you’re doing now, “use me baby please, want you to use me and feel better” you eyes tear up from the desperation you feeling wanting his cock back inside you. Your words make Jake groan as he strokes his harden cock pushing back into your slowly.

He knows you’re already stretched and he doesn’t need to do it but he just loves relishing in the feeling of you tight pussy over and over again. He doesn’t waste anymore time pounding into your little cunt listening to you moan loudly as his cock hits your g-spot perfectly.

Your head drops down to the floor and one of your hands comes back to hold his. Jake doesn’t hold your hand though, he instead grabs it and hankers it over your ass on your back. Your tail twitches as he uses your own forearm to pull your body back into his thrust making you scream.

Jake covers your body with his, kissing and sucking on your neck leaving sweet marks. It always turned him on watching you walk around with his bruises knowing he is the one who put them there and no one else knows.

You head spins when you cum on his cock again, you didn’t even ask this time, you didn’t even let him know you were close but Jake knew. He always knew when u were gonna cum when your cunt clenches up in his cock making him groan then you gush on him making his cock even wetter.

He swears he’s never had better sex than with you, in his entire life you are the only person that can make his get boners in the middle of the night from his wet dreams. He’s only person in the world he knows always makes sure he’s satisfied when you fuck. His thoughts send him over the edge and he cums deep inside you once again.

When you both come down from your respective highs Jake makes no move to pull out. Instead, he picks you up and lays on your hammock pulling you down with him and cover both your bodies as you drift off to sleep. Jake stays awake though, running his hand over your braids thinking about how lucky his is to have gotten you on his cock before anyone else could, he loves you so much. 

🌸 I hope everyone enjoyed reading! I had a lot of fun writing this one and I can’t wait to continue writing in this event!

Taglist:

@rivatar @strongheartneteyam @xylianasblog @inlovewithpandora @delusionalwh6re @neteyamsoare @nilahsstuff @m1tsu-ki @kylimarz

[shallowseeker]

hello there!! i’ve been searching for posts about how dean’s “i need you” in goodbye stranger feels more significant (i guess is the word?) than the original “i love you” and i was wondering what your thoughts on it were :)

I think a poet might be able to answer your ask better, so I invite my dashfam to point me to good linguistic posts.

///

As for me, I'm not sure I actually consider one line more meaningful than the other, and I'm not convinced Cas would have understood "I love you" at this point in his life (mentally wounded, brainwashed, thrown around by Heaven) any better than an "I need you."

I think it's highly likely that Cas wasn't actually lying when he said he didn't know what broke the connection in the crypt. That perhaps he couldn't parse his own feelings, especially with his then-fresh mental wounds. (I have this frankly incoherent rambling about how the inability to translate the angel tablet in season 8 is in parallel to how Cas can't read his own emotions/heart. I'll rewrite it to make it make more sense... someday.)

On the other hand, unlike Cas, I think Dean's I love you / I need you line does imply that Dean has worked through his own turbulent confusion with "why Cas feels different than everyone else." We see the line of questioning introduced in The Born-Again Identity, with Dean pondering aloud why he can't shake this and insisting that "of course (the reason) matters!" Dean realized back then that Cas was different. It was charged with... something.

Then, we see such jilted behavior from Dean in the episodes after this... both with Naomi's "I only wish he felt the same way," and Dean's silent treatment towards Cas in the bunker. It seems to me that Dean knows his own heart and is frustrated trying to "read" Cas's intentions, especially with how Heaven keeps wounding Cas over and over, rendering Cas psychologically unable to find his own footing (which is why Cas flees; all that brainwashing is too topsy-turvey for him to get his own bearings and directions sorted out).

///

But I think what interests me most about this season with regards to "I need you," is in the continued motif of Dean's outstretched hand.

We first see Dean's outstretched hand introduced in Purgatory, and it is THE through-line for much of the season. Even the scenes and relationships that aren't about Cas... are about Cas. When Cas throws Dean's hand away, Dean is floored—wounded to the point of rewriting his own memory. After he learns the truth, he's left wondering if he's misunderstood everything that was growing between him and Cas.

But Dean's "I need you / I love you" speaks to his consistently reaching out to Cas anyway, despite all the odds and despite Cas's numerous rejections. Dean just keeps reaching for Cas. He can't help it! (Dean is holding out hope that they do want each other, once the interference and obstacles are removed, that maybe they'll see that in each other... if they just get the chance.)

The motif of hands is so fascinating in season 8, because it's echoed in other relationships, too. For example, when Sam loses faith in himself, he injures his own hand, which Dean bandages in an echo of Church as "the small family supporting each other," against a gorgeous background of the Church as "the corporate megapower," with the angels falling. (It's a beautiful contrast of the different human and angel families.)

There's also how Cas cuts off the hand of (romantic) love, The Cupid, and how the Cupid willingly lets it happen. She extends her hand and lets Cas cut if off, the same way Dean was extending his hand to Cas in the crypt, thinking "I love you. I forgive you," and saying "I need you. We're family."

///Note: It's also like Theee Mixtape: (Love) is a gift. You keep those.

Reaching out is about love, acceptance, and connection. While Dean is doing all this reaching, Cas spends the season being psychologically wounded and threatened by Heaven, running for safety, and then--cutting out hearts and cutting off hands.

///

Yes, so when I look at the Crypt scene, and I see Cas twist and break Dean's arms and Dean is still REACHING... that is what fascinates me the most.

In this season, Dean is trying to help Cas at his own expense, even though Dean wants them to be together, he's helping Cas "fix Heaven," even though Heaven is going to take Cas away from Dean.

//

^ Here they sit, no longer in the kitchen-of-intimacy but in the bar-of-friendship, lamenting their inability to be in a romantic relationship together.

Dean knows he's in love with Cas at this point, I think, and while he suspected Cas had feelings for him, Dean withdraws, trying to respect Cas's space and support him in his chosen path of permanent, painful separation. (Dean knows how it is, of course, to support your family at the expense of your own personal happiness.)

Little does Dean know, that Cas's main motivation for fixing Heaven is to protect his human family. Metatron echoes it, and in The Great Escapist Naomi underlines to Cas that Heaven would not hesitate hurt his human loved ones.

METATRON: At the very least, it would st – [dog barking in distance, another warning] It would stop the fighting up there from spilling out down here, which will happen. It always does.

(In her pursuit of Cas, Naomi destroys the humans in the family diner in The Great Escapist.)

///

But by the time Cas is actually ready to take Dean's hand, Gadreel engineers a reversal of the outstretched hand, kicking Cas out of the bunker, in a parallel to Dean from season 8, Cas is the one left thinking that he's misunderstood everything.

This is underlined by his soliloquy to the baby. In an episode where it's shown that "medic angels" react to emotional pain as readily as physical, we're left to wonder: is this how angels were trained to deaden their emotions in the first place?

No wonder they might not recognize what they're feeling. No wonder Cas has struggled to connect to his own emotions whether he's human or angel. Maybe it takes "becoming closer to human" for angels to connect with that deadened part of their hearts/minds.

CASTIEL (to the baby): Nobody told you. Nobody explained. You're just … shoved out kicking and screaming into this human life, without any idea why any of it feels the way it feels, or why this confusion, which feels like it's … a hair's breadth (The baby stops crying.) from terror or pain. You know, just when you think you do understand, it'll turn out you're wrong. You didn't understand anything at all. Guess that's just how it is when you're new at this. You know, it wasn't that long ago when all I'd need to do to ease your pain was touch you.

I think it's so fascinating that Dean and Cas are framed as (romantically) reaching for each other over and over,. Not to mention, with Dean wearing "the handprint" on his shoulder, because Dean's a character with his heart obviously on his sleeve... if you dare to REALLY look at him anyway (as Dean invited Mary to do, to see him).

In Dean and Cas's fights, they tend to break each others' arms/hands, and yet... they continue to reach for each other... in parallel.

x - x - x - x - x - x - x

///

ADDITION: That family needs each other is a theme that is used over and over in this series. We are shown loss and love in almost every form (familial, friendship, etc. Ex: The Chuck and Amara forgiveness speech.)

But it's the motifs around the Dean-Cas one in particular that lends an intensely romantic context that imho sets it apart from the other instances.

[macfrog]

walking through fire | one shot

just something that's been on my mind the last few weeks. i hope that you're all ok going into this difficult time of year. and if there's any part of this, big or small, that you find yourself resonating with - there will always be a warm, cozy chair in my inbox/dms, free for you to come sit, hang; we can talk about everything or nothing at all. love you guys. 🤍

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

summary: you’re neck-deep in a bout of seasonal depression. your boyfriend suggests an autumnal walk. (better than most healthcare systems offer amarite)

warnings: quite literally about depression & anxiety so please read at your own discretion. established relationship, fluffy soft!joel takes care of his girl, implied suicidal thoughts, use of medication to treat depression/anxiety, feelings of worthlessness/burdening, but hope! in the end! a wee sliver of hope!

word count: 2.7k

main masterlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🖤

November turns on itself all too quickly.

Your body feels like lead, sinking deep into the mattress. Like a broken, rusted shipwreck at the bottom of the ocean; your hand lying limp above the bedsheets like a sailor’s last attempt at reaching over the waves for help.

Joel opened the blinds today. Nuzzled into you, the scruff of his beard sharp on your numb skin, and then stood up and slowly unveiled the glaring light of white cloud. You shrunk further into the bed, your hot breath suffocating you under the sheets. Inhaling and exhaling, breathing in your own rotten air.

He pushes the door open and shuffles across to the bed. Your sea dips when he lowers into it, two arms slipping around your waist like a lifebuoy. He pulls you into his chest; his warm body melting the ice of your bones.

“Hey,” he whispers, and drags his nose across your cheek. He kisses your temple, combs his fingers through your hair. Dabs his thumb along your bottom lip and then says again, “Hey, darlin’. You awake?”

Your eyes flutter open, only enough to see the blurry shape of him; the strong curve of his shoulder, the binary of dark cotton and pale skin.

“Hi, baby. How you feelin’ this mornin’?”

The words catch on the dry cliff of your throat, dangling for a few seconds like panicking climbers, before plummeting into the abyss. You settle for an incoherent mumbling, a vibration on your lips that Joel understands through the pad of his thumb.

“Yeah,” he sniffs, “not so good, huh? That’s okay. You know how much I love you?”

And that peels your eyes open a fraction more. Only enough to sharpen the image of him, to find the dark pools of his eyes and the way the flame in them flickers as he says it.

“Love you so much,” he whispers. The tiny fire thaws the very bottom of your heart, even if only enough to keep the blood pushing heavily through your veins.

Your eyes close over again, and you take his shirt in two weak fists, pulling yourself into his body. Your head fits in the crook of his arm, burying into his side.

“You feel like leavin’ the house today?” he asks, voice sweet and earnest. “Just for a little while? We could go for a walk, could go for a drive. Just you ‘n me, sweet girl.”

You shake your head, your eyes prickling from the sincerity of his question. The guilt beginning to creep its way over your shoulders.

“No? You don’t wanna?” He lifts his head, staring out at the view from the window. “’s a nice day out. Cold, but it’s dry, ‘n the leaves are all orange and yellow, just like you like. Not even for a half hour?”

That same guilt – sneering, bullying – pokes a sharp-clawed finger in your ribs until you answer him. “Tired,” you mumble, screwing your eyes shut until you see the sudden, violent assault of stars in your vision.

“I know you’re tired, baby,” Joel says, stroking your back. “But it might do you a little good to get some fresh air. And you’d be with me, and we can come back home whenever you decide.”

Your fear and shame seem to cower beneath his words; melted by the soft timbre of his voice. They retreat inward, burrowing deep between the cage of your ribs, twisting and mangling around your pale bones.

“We can come back whenever?” you whisper, defying their threats.

“Whenever, darlin’. Promise.”

You surrender yourself, letting him take you in his arms and carry you over to your closet, where he sets you down gently. Keeping an arm around your waist, Joel waits patiently as you pick an outfit, and then helps drape it over your frame. You feel more statue than human – solid substance rather than plush flesh. Cold and brittle; the tender touch and lively glow drained from your skin the same way it drains so quickly of energy.

You’ve been fighting for years. Months and months and months of one step at a time and just keep going. Being told you’re more than what’s going on in your brain, being told not to let it become you. But there are days when you stand before the mirror, and you don’t recognize the figure staring back at you. The dark tunnels in place of eyes, the thin line of her lips.

There are days you can see the marks on your skin from how tight your anxiety and depression bind you; wrapping like ivy around your body until there’s nothing left of you to see through the dark green leaves. Just a haggard, shapeless thing. A skeleton too tired to carry the weight of yourself; a heart too weary to beat in time.

There once existed a time you had smiled, even laughed – you know it, you have the lines scored deep into your cheeks to prove it. Sometimes they ache when you think about it, like even they miss the feeling. Joel knows it, too – you sense it whenever he tells some dumb joke, sense that he’s searching your face for the slightest lift, the slightest dip of a dimple. And it fucking kills you, when you realize you have nothing sincere or true to offer him. No swollen cheeks, no flash of teeth. At best, a heavier exhale pushed from your nostrils.

It all feels so long ago, that lighter, fresher, happier you. It feels so far from your clutches. Like you’re drifting further and further from the surface, disappearing into the murky depths of your own mind.

The doctors, the articles, the fucking motivational posts on Instagram all say the same. Keep fighting it. Confront your illness. Prove it wrong. But you’re so fucking tired of fighting. Fighting it the entire drive to work, your heart threatening to burst; fighting it every conversation you have, your façade slowly cracking. Swallowing the panic like you swallow the medication; both of them sticking in your throat and refusing to go down.

There is no fighting it. There is no overcoming through confrontation. If you broke your leg, shattered every bone to dust, would they say the same? You gotta walk on it straight away to make it strong again. You don’t think so.

Joel doesn’t seem to think so, either. Joel, with a heart of molten gold, ready at every turn to let it pour onto your skin and paint it the color of sunlight when you can’t do it yourself. Joel, with his strong arms and wide reach, bundling you up over the top of all that foul ivy and snapping its thick stems with just his fingers.

Joel, who will sit at the edge of your bed and watch you take your meds; kiss your forehead and squeeze you tight when you show him your empty mouth. Joel, who will hold you in the dead of night and tell you stupid stories about his brother when they were kids, rubbing your back and chasing the dark ghosts from your mind.

Joel, who still sees something in you – whether he’s imagining it or not – and decides each day that it’s worth protecting. Worth saving. You’re worth saving, even on the days you don’t believe it yourself.

He drives for ten minutes, a little out of the suburbs and into a thicket of fire-colored leaves and solid, frozen ground. Fall sinks its teeth deep into the roots of the earth, drying up the bloom of summer and replacing it with something harder, something tougher. Nature is dying in the November breeze – the amber leaves painted the color of the trees’ blood as they fight a losing battle against the shifting of time. You feel yourself decaying with it: a drawn-out, painful surrender to the bleak days and dark nights.

Joel keeps his hand on your thigh the entire ride; you keep your fingers intertwined with his. The fluttering in your chest gets quicker and quicker, spreads its wings wider the further you feel from home. Your mouth dries up, forcing you to swallow after every third breath. But his hand stays there, planted on you like the root of an ancient tree: never shifting, no matter how strong the wind throws punches.

A shaky breath falls from your lips when he slows to a halt, the truck parked by a long wooden gate. He cuts the engine and turns to you, squeezing your leg lightly.

“We’re just gonna walk down there,” he nods out the window, “and back again. As slow as you like, ‘n we turn back when?”

“Whenever I want,” you whisper, nodding.

“Whenever you want, darlin’. Just say the word, alright? Sound good?”

You nod, blinking away the strain of tears across your vision. Your knee bounces, the metal buckles on your boots clinking in the footwell.

Joel rubs his thumb against your cheek. Lifts your free hand and places a delicate kiss to your knuckles. “I am so proud of you,” he mumbles against them, like scoring it into the bone.

You fill your cheeks, flattening your lips together, and he pulls on his door handle.

Five paces from the car, you realize how cold it is. The bitter air snaps at your cheeks, drags the salty tears from your eyes. Joel quickly fixes the collar of your jacket and pulls your scarf over your face.

“You bring gloves?” he asks.

Your head shakes in response.

“Here.” He fishes in the pockets of his tan jacket for a dark brown pair, flicking his fingers for you to hold your quivering hands out. He slips them on, all too big for you, and then knots his fingers through yours and leads you on down the sloping backroad.

Bordered by tall trees on either side, you feel secluded and hidden from the rest of the world. It fills you with equal parts comfort and terror: nobody else is here. No one can see your vacant eyes, the wet stain of fallen tears on your cheeks. Not the vice grip you have on your boyfriend or the weak quiver of your voice.

And at the same time: nobody else is here. No people, no sign of life. Just an isolated track, the looming trees overhead, the squelch of muck and the bite of fall for company.

Joel matches your pace, strolling along by your side with your arm through his and his hand resting on top of yours. He catches your glances over your shoulder, sees the jittery movements of your head as you scan the scene around you, and pats the back of your hand tenderly.

“Take a deep breath for me.”

You fill your lungs with a chilly gulp of air, pushing it back out again as steadily as you can.

“And again.”

You repeat the exercise, your chest swelling against your buttoned up coat.

“You’re doin’ great,” he says, looking down at you. “You feelin’ okay?”

“I’m – Yeah, I’m just…” you twist back to search for the wooden gate, “…can’t see the truck anymore.”

“’s right there, promise ya. You wanna go back?”

He pauses, and your boots scuff to a halt on the stony terrain. You chew the inside of your cheek, eyebrows arching to release more tears from between your lashes. “No,” you breathe, “I wanna try to go further.”

“Then let’s try to go further. Yeah?”

You nod, setting off when you realize he’s waiting for you to take the lead.

The fields on either side of you are strung with a thick blanket of mist from one end to the other, masking the trees at the opposite side and obscuring the line between earth and sky. Your body close to Joel’s, your heartbeat attempting to match the steady pace of his, you feel safe, protected. The promise that you can call it a day whenever your body begins to weigh too much, whenever your lungs begin to falter.

Somewhere between the thinning of the hedgerows, another slanted, shabby gate materializes. Its crisscross panels and worn wooden posts separating you from the first company in your twenty-minute walk.

“Joel,” you call, loosening your grip on his arm and wandering over to the long, dewy grass towards a chestnut horse, a sliver of white fur diving deep between her eyes.

She slowly thumps over, huge hooves sinking deep into the soft dirt. Her long tail swishing, navy rug wrapped around her midriff. She docks at the gate, puffing a heavy breath – hot, thick clouds shooting from each nostril.

“Hi,” you say quietly, lifting a floppy-gloved hand for her to sniff. “Joel?” you say again, glancing down at her swollen belly, the low droop of the rug. “I think she might be pregnant.”

She tosses her head up, ears flicking, and nuzzles into the soft material of Joel’s glove. You feel her wrinkled muzzle, the strong, solid bridge of her nose. She blinks slowly; huge, deep brown eyes twinkling in the late-morning light, and you swear she’s trying to communicate something to you.

“Hey, girl,” Joel says, running a careful hand down her mane.

The horse sighs serenely, eyes flitting between the two of you. Her nostrils flare gently, light brown lashes fluttering. You tilt your head, stroking her and letting her teeth graze the sleeve of your jacket. Her bulky head turns to-and-fro, glancing up and down the trail you’re stood on, contently waiting for the passage of time. Enjoying her view from the misty field before it all changes again.

Unexpected and unwelcome, the absence of compression in your chest suddenly makes itself known. Dread spills into your lungs, thick like tar. You turn on your heel and cast Joel one fleeting glance.

He catches it, and without missing a beat, asks, “You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” you say. “Is that okay?”

“’s more ‘n okay, baby. You did so good today. Didn’t she?” he asks the horse, who huffs another hot breath. Joel tosses a thumb towards her. “See?”

You step back over to the animal, now preparing to wander back on home, and give her one last tender stroke. She blinks twice, tosses her head a final time, and her broad body turns, thudding off back up the slope.

As he links your arms again, Joel blinks down at you, the corners of his mouth slowly lifting.

“What?” you ask, shyly.

“Look at you,” he says, nudging your shoulder with a glint in his eye. “You’re smilin’.”

Autumn flashes by as Joel drives you home – ginger and bronze and honey and cinnamon blurring into one as you pass them by. You settle back against the headrest, moving with the sway of the truck, your tired fingers tracing blind shapes on Joel’s palm.

Nature is burning. Perhaps dying is too harsh a term. Burning in preparation for the winter, when it will lay dormant and restful. Quiet, save for the crunch of snow beneath your feet. Bland, save for the sparkle of frost on your windowpanes. The droplets of beauty laced through, the little reminders that not all has been lost.

I am burning right now, the earth says, but wait until you see what I can become.

The days will turn to night. The sun will tear the sky to tatters, set the whole thing fucking ablaze, go down in a battle stained in red and orange and deep, dark blue – and she will still return, spilling golden all over the horizon. She always does.

The clouds will cover overhead, dampening the color on earth. The blues will fade to gray, the yellows will undoubtedly pale. And then the sky will clear, when it is ready; the clouds will break in two to let a ribbon of cerulean burst through.

The leaves will fall to the ground and feed the soil; new ones will sprout from buds left in their wake. The ground will thaw, will soften again in time to welcome the push of daisies and burst of heather. The horse will foal, the birds will sing to their babies, the buzz of insects will irritate your ears; the rivers will gush and the trees will sway and you will be okay again.

You will be okay again.