#transformative works are truly fucking transformative sometimes!

[anonymousmink]

🩻&🕰

🩻: Has writing a fic ever led to you discovering something about yourself?

Mostly that I love writing, and that I’m not completely terrible at it! I actually started writing fanfiction when I was about thirteen and here I am MANY years later still doing it. Sometimes when I think I’m incapable of creating or finishing something I go back and look at what I’ve already achieved - I might never make a cent off it but damnit I’ve created something in my time! I’ve written hundreds of thousands of words, received truly incredible feedback, and met some fantastically strange people. I am so grateful for this weird ass hobby and everyone who shares it with me!

Also kinks. Like… at least (3) kinks I didn’t realise I was that into until I wrote them. Whoops!

🕰: Do you participate in writing sprints?

I have done in the past and I probably would again, but usually the timing doesn’t work out for me! Time zones are a bitch! 😭

[bessiejoan]

Astrology: Uranus in the houses

Uranus is righteous. Uranus is compelled to uphold values and beliefs for the greater good. Unlike Pluto, which destroys for the purpose of transforming, or Mars that destroys for the purpose of overcoming, Uranus destroys for the sake of what is considered right and fair. It will destroy in the name of truth and equity. It is the ultimate rebel and anti-authoritarion. It causes chaos in the face of resistance.

The house with uranus in it must act righteously, and the desired results must be righteous. Otherwise, volatility occurs.

1st house - You see the world differently and sometimes can't believe that you are forced to live in the constraints of society. Use your presence righteously to help others who are alienated.

2nd house - Spend money unselfishly. What you give to others will come back unexpectedly. Perhaps you don't even "believe in money," and you understand it as a created concept that keeps the poor suffering and the rich richer. You value unusual items and gifts.

3rd house - Others find it difficult to understand you and follow your chain of thoughts. You may get frustrated and exhausted by this, but you try to always speak your truth no matter what. Do this, and those who understand will love you. The ones that do not understand will be left behind. Use your words to advocate for others less fortunate in your community. The more you are involved in sibling drama, the worse it will get.

4th house - It's hard to find solid ground to call your home, but the more you hold onto the past is the more sudden and unexpected shake ups will occur. Practice empathy towards your family, and you will be truly empathetic to yourself.

5th house - Be respectful and kind in love. Do not fuck with others hearts, or it will come back around. Be open about the strangeness and taboos that you seek from the beginning. Sudden wins and loses in gambling. Unexpected accidents with children or pregnancy. Consider revolutionary ideas around these topics and how you can advocate for others in such positions.

6th house - You're compelled to fight authoritarian figures in your day and in your society because you hate being controlled. Step outside of the defensive fight and come up with your own routine and process without expecting others to agree to follow along.

7th house - Approach others with a fair and equal attitude. The more you celebrate the difference in others, the more it will be celebrated in you. You seek unusual partnerships and have open ideas about marriage, however, this must be actioned with consent.

8th house - Respect the property of others and do not fight over inheritance for selfish reasons. Embrace the sudden changes and loss. Fighting against it will cause more chaos.

9th house - Take ownership of your own learning. Your views and beliefs are against the norm and for the bettering of society. Just don't let your ego get so attached to your opinion that you close yourself off to learning. Otherwise, a greater force will have no choice but to continuously shake up your beliefs.

10th house - You are viewed by others as "different" or "strange." You should work to change society's perceptions, not to justify your strangeness, but to free others of stigma and discrimination.

11th house - You are the natural humanitarian. Its easy to get suddenly swept up in revolutionary ideas. Earn your money outside of the norm. Be careful when you dream strange and big for society. It must be with the purpose of benefiting those who need it, not just anarchy for the sake of defiance.

12th house - You have a strong hidden desire to break away and be free. You want to travel and explore alone. However, you can not avoid your generational karma. It follows you everywhere. The more open you are to understanding this, the more pleasant surprises will be delivered to you in unusual ways.

[pamicakery]

₊✩‧₊˚౨ You're not a THAT GIRL ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

Let's have a real talk here, maybe people will disagree but I don't care, I want to be honest with you.

What is wrong with Law of Assumption on tumblr? Like.. You may not have noticed but the mix between LOA x Clean girlish Bad Girl Won-youngish pinkish stuff... We are leaving and distancing ourselves from the real main subject.

NO

Loa is not having a bad bitch mindset who says '' fucks the world I'm gonna rule ''. There is a thin line between arrogance and confidence.

NO

You don't value less than a Bad bitch because you have insecurities or you are scared of your manifestation not gonna happen. Stop shaming people about their '' Victim mindset ''. I know, I talked about that in a previous post. But I will never judge someone because they have it, it's normal to have a victim mindset but you shouldn't dwell in that. You can surpass that.

NO

Waking up at 4 am, doing pilate, buying expensive products, drinking lemon water and eating fruits and yogurt won't give you a better self concept.

And NO

If everyone is THAT GIRL then no one is!

You just want to be like everyone and what about you?

If you want to be pretty, be pretty for yourself.

If you want your SP, they will love you for who you are with your flaws, your personality. I bet you don't want to be loved only for your look right? :(

I am not belittling coquette, pinky girls. But let's not transform the Loa into a '' pretty popular and arrogant girl '' club.

The real glow up is inside, in your mind.

You need to grow from a '' I can't do it '' mindset to '' I can do it '' mindset. This is the real glow up.

There is no '' Better version of yourself ''. There is just one version of yourself and this version evolve.

The better version of yourself is not the version approved by society.

You are worthy, you deserve good things and you can evolve.

You can change your appearance, you can have your celebrity SP, be abundant, healthy.

Life is not True Beauty. You will not glow up physically and everyone will love you. You will be obsess with your appearance, and hide yourself behind diets, work out and when everyone will find out how you look without make up, your world will fall appart because you don't truly love yourself as who you truly are and your insecurities will blow out on your face making you realize that despite everything you don't like yourself.

Where is the confidence when you can't be yourself? For real? Stop thinking that you can't do this because you don't have that fire confidence, if you want to be shy be it, you want to be kind, be kind. Don't lower yourself, and don't look upon anybody because they manifested their dream life.

Be yourself.

I came at a point that, as long as I have myself, I have someone. The only one you should compare yourself is with yourself.

The real glow up, is in your mind. Accept yourself with your flaw and accept that you can change and have a better life, opportunities, love, beauty.

Loving yourself as who you are will be the best success you can achieve.

Macha latte and pink eyes patches won't give you your manifestation and your desire life. It won't.

Persisting and knowing you deserve better will.

Don't limit yourself upon what society call success. You can manifest huge mansion, ton of cars, being a model. I wanted to be that, a model, loved by many. Mostly because I have toxic parents who always criticized me. I'll be honest with you, I cry sometime, asking myself '' where is my desire? '', I am jealous, envious and I ask myself '' What's wrong with me? ''.

I wanted to be a model and be called '' the most beautiful woman in the world '' just to brag about it with my celebrity SP. Thinking that if I become a model, he will notice me.

But you know what?

I want to know my worth, I want to have confidence in my manifesting abilities, be healthy, have friends who love me for who I am, and my Sp accepting me as who I am.

know that you deserve the world no matter who you are.

Just like the gravity works the same for everyone. Don't destroy yourself thinking that you will manifest better, don't downgrade yourself because '' Only the pretty popular girls '' manifest.

The real glow up is accepting that you can have your dream life no matter what.

I want my mindset to be strong, I want it to believe that it can change my life, I want my mindset to know that it is powerful. I want to look into my imagination and be sure at 100% that it's true. I want to be myself, to believe in myself.

Be your own validation & believe in yourself.

[stevebabey]

a piece that alas, will never get finished 😔 the bath fic that was once discussed, half written, and left to rot in my tumblr drafts. i hope u can read the seeds i was planting and see the vision i had even if i never could write it <3

Hot water is, indisputably, a luxury in the Munson household.

Far as Eddie knows, the same goes for the whole damn world.

Hot water is something sacred. Something to be used scarcely, lest you drain the tank and have only cold water to wash your plates and yourself in for the rest of the week.

It's not the worst, but, well, then again Eddie can think of few things worst than needing a shower during the colder winter months when the water splutters out lukewarm and the cold trickles in right when he's in the middle of washing his hair. It sucks. Always sends him to bed with the shivers.

Hell, sometimes he'd even do the mile at school just for a chance to get in the showers first — dashing in for the free hot water that only lasted a good couple minutes.

It was worth it though, Eddie thought.

Both the exercise and the sneers, in exchange for getting to be truly warm for the first time since he'd gotten out of bed that day. Warm showers will do that to you though.

Eddie's heard stories of places, of faraway like Hawaii or somewhere, where it gets so warm that when it rains, the water sometimes rains down already warm. Like a great big shower for the whole place.

He reckons if that ever happened here in the middle of nowhere Indiana, he'd be out dancing in the streets in the warm rain. Soaking it all in. Taking not a single drop for granted.

Steve's house, as Eddie has discovered, has more than one shower — because it's got multiple bathrooms.

In the time he's been hunkered down there, his sides patched up roughly and healing at what feels like a snails pace, Eddie has taken to exploring the empty halls of the Harrington House.

It's... enormous. Gargantuan. Fucking massive.

There's rooms with doors that never open. Rooms that Eddie's never even seen Steve go near. Endless doors and cupboards and an upstairs and downstairs, and far too many garages for one just couple and their son.

Eddie explores them all.

It stems from his boredom, of course, because patient isn’t one of the words used to describe Eddie Munson but restless certainly is.

He wanders aimlessly, under the guise that he needs to keep using the muscles in his legs while he heals up but truthfully, he loves a good snoop.

Soon enough, the driving force of his wandering transforms from boredom to… curiosity.

Steve Harrington has always been an enigma to Eddie.

Upholder of conventional standards and the heterosexual gaze turned, well, loser, in the manner of a couple months- it was jarring to say the least.

Especially to the likes of people like Eddie, for whom he had represented everything wrong with small town Hawkins. Rich meathead jocks who pay their way through school.

Eddie always figured he’d had a fucking mansion of a house but this place… it’s unsettling, seeing so much space, so unlived in.

It’s even more unnerving how Steve just… doesn’t take up space.

Even in his own home. Steve’s bedroom doesn’t sprawl out, it’s not packed with possessions and hobbies like Eddie knows his own is. His wallpaper matches his sheets, picked out by someone who clearly doesn’t know Steve.

Everything is tidy because Steve seems to have this neatness ingrained deep within him. He putters around, on auto pilot sometimes, to keep the space clean for parents who don’t seem to come home.

When Steve's out at work and it's just Eddie, wandering aimlessly to keep the strength in his legs, the loneliness of the place yawns down the halls. Consuming. Suffocating.

He’s found himself eagerly awaiting Steve's arrival home from work, if only to hear someone else's voice other than his own.

Today, Eddie's searching has lead him here— into the master bedroom’s ensuite and they have a goddamn fuckin’ bathtub.

It’s a proper fancy type one with clawed bronze feet and a wide lip, made of sparkling clean marble. The type he might describe for that is a King in a campaign, just to be on the nose about how wealthy and greedy this character was.

He’s so transfixed on it that he doesn’t even hear Steve jimmying his keys into the lock, coming home.

It isn’t until— “Eddie?”

Eddie jumps, startled, as Steve’s hand touches on his shoulder lightly. His goal to not scare the other boy doesn’t go as intended, considering how much Eddie flinches but the moment he turns his head, his face is relaxing.

“Fuck, dude,” He breathes a sigh of relief, lips quirking into a smile. “Didn’t hear you come up.”

Steve shrugs a bit and scratches behind his ear, a bit awkwardly. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

Eddie nods, but his gaze has already shifted back to the tub before them. Steve follows his gaze easily, an easy chuckle passing his lips.

“I see you found the bath.”

“Yeah…” Eddie says, sounding a bit breathless, his voice distant. Steve glances over, trying to understand the strange emotion toying on Eddie’s features. It’s just a bath. Steve hasn’t even been allowed to use it before, sure, but he likes his own shower just fine.

“It was such a bitch to get it in when they first got it,” Steve explains, folding his arms across his chest as he recalls the memory.

He points his finger behind him to the doorway without moving his arm. “Knocked down a whole wall ‘cos they couldn’t get it to through the doorway. To be honest, I’ve always thought it was kind of ugly.”

He’s waiting for Eddie to say something. For the joke, for the sneering comment on his parent’s fortune, for any lippy spiel that usually gets under Steve’s skin in the best way. The longer Eddie stays quiet, the more it begins to worry Steve.

It’s as though Eddie hasn’t even heard him.

Steve clears his throat and tries again, his tone light and delivered with a chuckle. “Man, you’d think you’ve never seen a bath before.”

Eddie’s head snaps toward Steve. He finally breaks his trance, regrettably just to snap at Steve. “I have, thank you very much.”

Steve feels a bit of embarrassment bloom over his cheeks, wanting to backtrack on his poor joke instantly but before he can open his mouth Eddie is already softening, hackles falling. His eyes are back on the bath.

“Just… haven’t even taken one.” He admits softly.

Steve doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know what’s going through Eddie’s mind — can’t come close to understanding what forlorn nostalgia is tugging at Eddie’s gut.

“Not really, I don’t think.” He continues. He pauses to think, head tilting back just a bit. “When I was really little, maybe. Little enough to fit in the sink or— or something.”

Eddie seems to realise he’s letting whatever thoughts he’s having drift out of his mouth and promptly snaps his jaw shut, teeth clacking as he does. He doesn’t look at Steve, doesn’t want to see the pity or the sympathy or the—

“Anyways,” Eddie huffs a breath, turning to leave his newfound discovery on the exploration of the Harrington House.

When—

“Do you want to?” Steve asks suddenly. His voice is sincere. “Take one?”

Eddie blinks. Wonders if it’s a joke, that it’s being offered out just so it can snatched away and Steve can laugh at how desperate Eddie is to actually be given this. He has to hastily remind himself that Steve wouldn’t do that to him.

There’s no containing the excitement rushing in his voice when Eddie spits out, “Can I?”

Steve chuckles, an easy smile at the other’s eagerness.

It’s easy to overrun the instinct that’s ingrained deep, not to cross the little rules his parents have scattered through the house — easy because he’s doing it more and more with Eddie here.

They’d eaten off his mom’s expensive and untouched china on the first night Eddie had managed to get up and about to eat downstairs, instead of tucked in bed.

He’d been so keen to help, proclaiming that he’d set the table for the both of them— too excited to be up and moving to remember that he and Steve weren’t usually as buddy-buddy as they were acting.

Steve had soaked in it greedily. Warm brown eyes, saccharine smile, he’s found that Eddie sort of glows when he’s happy. And that giving him good food is one of the ways to stir up that happiness.

But even then, Steve had paused seeing the plates in Eddie’s hands, an instant stone in his throat because he isn’t allowed to use those ones.

Sputtering through a sentence, Steve swallowed the stone and skipped over the rule he’d never broken before. It was worth it for the smile on Eddie’s face.

Just like it’s worth it now. Seeing the awed smile on his face, already a little jittery at the thought of a bath… Steve’s embarrassed to find he can’t really say no to him.

He keeps that to himself though, because if Eddie knew that he’d be batting his eyelashes and making every demand known to Earth. But then again, that didn’t sound so bad either.

Christ, Steve thinks to himself. He’s so screwed.

[bitchlessdino]

Would you like a receipt? Pt. 1

In Valentines collaboration with @svthub hosted by my wifey @wongyuseokie, pt 2 out now! Pairing: Childhood bf!junhui x working class gn!reader Genre: fluff, slight angst, slice of life Word count: 2.9k tags: second chances, exes to ???, childhood friend/boyfriend!junhui, spontaneous dates, misunderstandings, smut in part 2!!! Summary: Coming across a grade school ex-boyfriend while you worked a shitty seasonal job around Valentines was not in your 2024 bingo card. author note: to sweet mio at @skyechild i apologize in advance for making you wait for the second half. I promise it'll be worth the wait. but yes! i am your one and only cupid. I hope you enjoy what i have so far. And to answer your ask, idk if i have a favorite thing about myself? Maybe it's the constant desire to look for new things to improve on or my attitude in trying new things? What i look for other people is pretty simple tho. That would be ease. I'd like if someone felt comfortable with me and vice versa. if i can make someone's day by making them laugh or just existing then that would be great. happy valentines day mio! From yours Truly, Cupid💘

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch @cottoncheol @embrace-themagic

Valentine's Day has always been a bit of a hit or miss for you. The last time you remember eagerly anticipating the holiday was back in high school. Since then, the allure of celebrating love and romance seemed to fade away, as you realized that not everything in the world is adorned in shades of pink and red. Valentine's Day became a luxury, a whimsical indulgence that felt distant and impractical for someone navigating a world that often left little room for such extravagances. Life, for you, was a series of tasks, responsibilities, and the constant juggling act of making ends meet.

From the time you were in high school, you entered the realm of adulthood, where dreams sometimes took a backseat to the more immediate needs of providing for your family. The dreams you put on hold lingered in the recesses of your mind, awaiting their turn to be fulfilled. Working tirelessly, you made sacrifices, dedicating yourself to a job that demanded your energy and time. Despite the challenges, you pressed on, ensuring the well-being of your family, who toiled alongside you, if not even harder.

Now, as an adult working a part-time job that offers a slightly better paycheck than your previous one, you’ve grown used to the matter. While the financial gains may not be monumental, every improvement counts, especially when compared to the downfalls of your previous workplace.

Amidst the whirlwind of your daily hustle, Valentine's Day transforms into a distant echo of the past–a time when celebrations were carefree and seemingly attainable. However, for you, navigating the world feels akin to maneuvering on an almost empty tank. In this moment, mere existence becomes a means to sustain yourself.

“Is this a gift? If so, would you like it to be gift-wrapped for you?”

The middle-aged man raises an eyebrow, smacking that mint gum that doesn’t seem to mask his nicotine-coated breath. “Is it extra?”

“It’s two dollars extra.”

Usually, you’d really sell the idea that the highest premium quality wrapping paper would be used to then be topped off with a satin ribbon that truly pulls it all together, but for such a customer, you know you’d be wasting your breath.

He scoffs, snatching the bag off the counter. “Are you trying to scam me? Fuck that shit.”

You let a sigh of relief slip past your lips the moment he made his way out the sliding door, muttering to yourself about the smell. You reach down for your Powerade hidden on a bottom shelf of the counter you stand behind, hoping this supposed ‘power’ would relinquish itself to you for another long shift.

It’s the day before Valentine's Day, which means the rush has become a regular occurrence since about a week ago. The store is bursting with vibrant displays of flowers, stuffed animals clutching oversized lollipops, and decadent heart-shaped boxes of chocolates. Not such a bad gig if you look at it.

However, the true predicament lies in the presence of aggressive customers, drawn to discounts like magnets. They're all about grabbing anything and everything that's on sale, making things more complicated than they need to be. It's like they're trying to see how far they can push things and make your day even crazier. Dealing with them adds an extra layer of chaos to the already busy scene as if you haven’t lost faith in humanity enough.

“I bought this yesterday and it’s DIGUSTING! I want a full refund and extra compensation for my time and taste buds being wasted on this disgusting excuse of a candy.”

Popping open the box revealed a sorry sight–almost half the candies were missing as if they'd gone on a little taste adventure without an invite. The poor box looked like it had been through a candy apocalypse, so messed up that I couldn't even be sure if it originally belonged to our store.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry you're dissatisfied with our products. However, because the box is so damaged and half of the contents have been consumed we cannot accept this return,” you respond in your most polite service voice.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Where the hell is your manager? The customer is always right!”

At last, a wave of relief crashes over you like a superhero arriving just in the nick of time during closing hours. The once bustling crowd has dwindled, allowing you to begin the task of rearranging items and securing the cash register, signaling the imminent conclusion of yet another busy day.

Just when you're on the verge of clocking out and calling it a day, a sudden interruption unfolds at the entrance. A lone figure materializes outside, softly tapping on the glass as if pleading to be granted entry.

"Please," his voice is all muffled through the glass, "I know you're about to close, but pretty please! I just need to grab something real quick. I already know exactly what I need!"

It’s not every day you see a man of his looks and caliber beg to be given access to a candy store as if he were a determined child. There's this undeniable air of urgency about him–as if he’d die if we didn’t get what he needed–but it doesn't overshadow his perfectly proportioned features that illuminate under the evening street lights. Ultimately, you decide to approach the door, swiftly undoing the top lock of the door and allowing him inside.

He expresses his gratitude with a grateful clasp of his hands, swiftly navigating through the inventory to grab what he urgently needs. Returning to the counter, you initiate the process of unraveling the closing procedures, all the while fervently hoping that no one else decides to join the stranger in last minute browsing.

"Sorry," he apologizes as he drops his items on the counter: several heart-shaped boxes and a bear clutching a mini Mylar balloon that shouts 'I love you,' with a small box of chocolates in its other paw. A classic and popular choice.

“That’s a lot of chocolate. Big family?”

He shakes his head, "Nah, these are for a company thing. I've been busting my butt for weeks, and the one simple task I get, I can't even manage it until the last minute."

"Got it. And the bear? Picking up a last-minute surprise for your girlfriend too?"

A slightly offended look crosses his face. "Oh, if I had a girlfriend, I’d do way more than make up my tardiness with a teddy bear.” He holds the fluffy creature in his hand, “This is just for my mom. So, if you ever spot a lady with my face and long hair, please, keep it on the down-low."

You chuckle softly, bagging up his purchases. "I'll remember that. Cash or credit?"

He extends his hand, revealing his credit card with his full name on display. As you sound out the name in your head, it strikes you as unique yet oddly familiar. You run the card through the machine, unaware that the customer is squinting at you, also trying to place where he might know you from.

"Hey, have we met before? You seem really familiar," he questions.

"Uh, not sure, but your name does ring a bell," you reply as you hand the card back. "Haven't come across too many Wen Junhuis."

"Wait, how do you know my name?" he questions.

"Well, it's on your credit card, sir," You respond with straightforward precision.

"True, but no one has picked it up as quickly and accurately as you did. Maybe we do know each other."

You shrug. "Maybe so. I think the last time I heard a name like that was back in elementary school. A classmate maybe."

"Hold on, you couldn't be Y/n, right?" he questions, his eyes widening with realization.

You take a brief pause to grasp the implication, acknowledging it with a nod. "Been a long time coming, hasn't it?"

His smile widened across his cheeks, evoking memories of a similar grin on a boy more than half his age. "Yeah. Well, I be damned. I'm surprised you remember my name."

"It's pretty distinctive; I'm surprised you remember mine."

He scoffs. "You are a core memory, thank you very much. One of the nicest and coolest people in our grade. God, remember our first Valentines?"

"Yes," you softly chuckle, the memories of childhood innocence flooding back. "I begged my mom to get these really nice scented Valentine cards to give to the class."

"And you gave me the lemon one because I love lemons, and I gave you one of the hologram cards of a cat that smiles when you flip it on its side."

"I was so excited to show my sister, and I just know she was so jealous."

"Yeah, where did the time go?" he sighs, his smile turning wistful on his lips.

You shake your head, still smiling from the unexpected trip down memory lane, and finally, hand off his gifts back to him. "Would you like a receipt?"

"No, I'm good. So,” He leans over the counter curiously, “What are you doing this Valentine's?"

"Working the day. I'll probably just grab takeout for dinner and head home. You?"

"It's a workday,” he says proceeding to grab his things. “So most of the day is spent in the office. But, I'm free the rest of the evening…would it be weird if I asked you out for Valentine's Day?" he nervously proposes.

You raise an eyebrow, slightly taken aback but intrigued. "You want me to be your Valentine?"

"Couldn't hurt," he nonchalantly shrugged, a wry grin playing on his lips. Then, as if a light bulb flickered to life above his head, an idea dawned on him, sparking mischief in his eyes.

"Unless you've got a 200-pound, all-muscle boyfriend ready to beat my ass," he quips, his tone laced with a hint of sarcasm. The words linger in the air, forming a playful challenge and a subtle admission that, just maybe, he wasn't entirely impervious to consequences.

It harks back to a past altercation, one of those rare 'couple quarrels' you had. The promise was made in jest—that you'd leave him if he ever pulled on your hair again, and he'd have to face a burly 200-pound muscle man. Though uttered in humor with no evidence of said muscle man, it struck a chord of genuine concern in his little boy heart, and he kept that promise until the end of your relationship. The memory lingered, manifesting now in an unmistakable charm, a blend of audacity, bravado, and humor that fills the air with laughter and unadulterated ease.

You chuckle. “Lucikly, I don’t, but I don’t know you. Who knows what kind of person you, or I, have become in the last fifteen or so years? Maybe I'm a bitch.”

"Well, as long as there’s no one else in the picture, I see no problem. Bitch all you want to me." he grins.

Your expression shifts into a playful contemplation, "Why me? I'm pretty sure there are plenty of people out there dying for a dinner date with you. I mean, the last thing we shared was a juice box."

"Maybe I'm hoping to reignite an old spark. If I recall our MASH game correctly, we were supposed to be living in a shack with 20 kids, a dog, and daily commutes on a scooter," Junhui retorts.

"Thank goodness that scenario never played out, but, um, I'm not sure dinner is a good idea."

As the banter unfolds, you realize it's been an eternity since you've experienced the thrill of a proper date. The mere thought of dressing up, the nervous excitement before meeting someone, and the shared laughter over a romantic meal become fragments of a distant past, like pages in a cherished novel stored away on a forgotten shelf.

“We never know unless we try, right?” He says, a teasing glint in his eyes.

“You always hit on exes that you stumble upon on a random Tuesday?”

“Only the pretty ones.” Junhui grins, swiftly extracting a candy box from the bag. With a quick scribble on the side, he hands it to you. “If you change your mind. Happy Valentine's Day.”

You roll your eyes playfully, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you accept the candy. “Happy Valentine's Day to you too, Jun.”

You depart with a box of candy in hand when your shift ends, Junhui's number hastily scribbled on the top, the ink still fresh as that abrupt encounter. As you make your way home, the city lights shimmering in the distance, you find your thoughts circling back to his audacious proposition.

The weight of the candy box seems to mirror the gravity of the decision before you. The city streets, now quieter in the late evening, echo with dilemma of pursuing his offer. You can't deny the charm that lingers in the air—a mix of confusion, nostalgia, and an unexpected connection. The mere act of considering his offer adds a layer of excitement to the night, anticipation for plans that have been yet set in motion.

As you unlock the door to your apartment, the scent of familiarity welcomes you warmly for once, likely due to the refreshing end of your night. You set the candy aside–already having memorized Junhui's number–and with a decisive tap, you enter his number into your phone. The screen lights up with his name, a digital beacon inviting you to venture into uncharted territory. As you send a quick message, the city outside continues its gentle hum, and you can't help but feel giddy. You’re eleven all over again.

The memory of Junhui's charismatic grin lingers in your mind, a subtle tug at the edges of your thoughts the moment you hit send, and you throw the phone aside, letting yourself get rid of the electrifying nerves running through your body. When you hear the notification going off–Junhui’s name on display–you realize there’s no going back.

The following day, you’re excited about living for once. Delighted to have something to look forward to after work, you board today's bus with a genuine smile on your face, a subtle change that doesn't escape the notice of the bus drivers, who have grown accustomed to your early presence by now.

As the bus carries you through the familiar townscape, you can't help but revel in the subtle shift in the air. The usual humdrum of daily life seems to have given way to a vibrant undercurrent of anticipation for the holiday. The ordinary scenes outside the window take on a slightly pink hue, and you find yourself savoring the details that often go unnoticed illuminated with festive decor.

Work hours also pass with a newfound energy, and the anticipation for the evening grows with each passing minute, even with the rambunctious customers buying more gifts just in the nick of time. The mundane tasks of the day become a mere backdrop to the vibrant scene that awaits you once the clock strikes the end of the workday.

Today, the world outside the candy store seems to radiate brighter than any other day has. The street lights gradually flickering on, usually just a backdrop to your daily grind, now beckon with a promise of surprises. As the day unfolds, you find yourself counting down the hours until your appointment time arrives and you quickly change into your Valentine's date attire, anticipating Junhui's reappearance.

Time moves forward—one hour, two hours, three hours. Doubts begin to creep in. Were you merely indulging in wishful thinking at this point?

The rose-tinted glasses, which once painted the day with a hopeful hue, must have started to expire. Now, a subtle gray takes over, bringing you back to the stark reality of the passing moments. The initial excitement begins to wane, replaced by a tinge of disappointment and a hint of uncertainty.

As the clock ticks away, doubts and questions swirl in your mind like a gathering storm. The vibrant anticipation that once filled the air begins to dissipate, leaving behind a quiet unease.

You glance at your reflection in the mirror, the Valentine's date attire now carrying a touch of wistfulness. The city outside, once alive with the promise of a special evening, now takes on a different tone. The street lights, initially beacons of excitement, cast shadows that dance with anxiety and unease. The imminent arrival of buses amplifies a fleeting thought–maybe, just maybe, you can still catch it if you run.

Taking a leap of faith, you hastily gather your belongings and make your way to the bus station, adhering to your initial plan—opting for takeout in the solitude of home, if restaurants are still an option at this hour. Amidst the uncertainty, your phone succumbs to the lack of power, its screen plunged into darkness, mirroring the tone of your night.

The familiarity of home brings no comfort, only disheartenment. You set aside the dinner you had envisioned for tonight, plugging in your phone to replenish its drained battery, intentionally avoiding any further interaction with the outside world for the remainder of the night.

When your phone finally regains its power, messages burst to life in an instant, one particular message standing out, beckoning attention. That is, of course, if you were still around to witness it.

Junhui: I’m so sorry! You will not believe the day I had. My office was bombarding me all day with extra work and i only left now. Please tell me its not too late.

P.S. and here's that valentine i wanted to give to you <3 i hope you like it as much as this fic so far

[twistedastrology]

- The most painful Chiron placements -

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

in my opinion-

to preface, all chiron placements are inherently painful, but these to me are the ones i have the most respect for in a way??

everyone knows chiron as the wounded healer, it represents our soul level wound that, once healed, is our greatest superpower.

so here are a handful of the chiron placements that to me are the most intense.

- Chiron in Aries/1st -

chiron in aries is absolutely terrifying to me and i have the utmost respect for people with this placement because this is a core wound of the self.

they go through life forever trying to find who they are and feeling like the world holds no space for them- ive said like a billion times that my biggest fear is losing myself, and that's the wound that chiron in aries has to deal with.

they might struggle with finding what they're willed to do and might feel like a mosaic of everything else around them instead of a real person and that is so scary to me.

once they manage to heal that wound though, they are fucking unstoppable and inspire others to find themselves just as they did.

- Chiron in Sagittarius -

this one is intense to me because it often has a lot of potential to remain unhealed- this is a wound that relates to spirituality entirely-

i dont know many ppl with this placement at all but i imagine they're scared or intimidated by spirituality as a whole to some degree-

these people don't know what the purpose of life is, they don't know what they believe in or If they believe in anything- the subject of belief and purpose in life is very sore for them.

when healed, this chiron placement bestows an intense sense of belonging and meaning in life, and it has a lot of potential to remain unhealed because spirituality at the very least helps you to find a true meaning in life, without adhering to a strict religion that makes one up.

- Chiron in Aquarius/11th -

im a little biased for this one because i have this placement but i can 100% speak from experience because of that.

this placement is easily the most agonizing one in my entire chart- for the longest time i felt like i would never find true friends, and sometimes that feeling will creep up again and it makes me absolutely crumble.

chiron in aries and chiron in aquarius are very similar to some extent because they both feel like the world won't give them somewhere to feel at home, just for different reasons.

chiron in aquarius makes you feel like you will never have anyone who truly understands you and that even if you do, they won't stick around like you want them to.

for some people, this can make them try to conform to somewhere they don't belong. thankfully i don't have that aspect, but it has crossed my mind multiple times in life.

this placement, when it's triggered by something, makes me immediately consider every possibility upon meeting someone new and forces me to give up my hopes until im proven otherwise.

im pretty sure it's the reason i have an avoidant attachment style as well as trust issues 😮‍💨

when healed though, these people have the ability to bring people together without snuffing anyone's individuality. they always respect people for who they are and the friends they do manage to find respect them for who they are.

much shorter post this time but ive been super tired all day and ofc had a chiron trigger so ive been a little cranky to say the least- but i wanted to write something for some reason so i figured what better than what i struggled with today 😮‍💨

if you have any of these chiron placements or just generally know your chiron fucking hurts really bad when it's triggered, i get it- but it won't be like that forever. the more we manage to heal, the more that wound is transformed into the most stable part of our charts.

if in general you're not doing well rn, again, i get it, but it will never be like that forever. that's not how life works. you won't be happy forever either, but if you were, there would be no value to it.

like the song i named this blog after says, "a lonely life where no one understands you, but don't give up because the music do"

- 🖤 -

[kotias]

Warzone - a Poolverine fic

Chapter titles:

1- Your Hands On Me, They Feel Like Heaven

2- Heavy Like the Love I Carry For You

3- I Hear You Call My Name and It Feels Like Home

Rating: E

Status: Completed (3 chapters)

Current word count: 14,305 words

Summary:

Being a mutant sucks, sometimes. Sometimes, your cells will battle one another to the death, leaving you sobbing in your bed. Or out of it. Fully naked, in the middle of Blind Al's living room.

Excerpt:

“Oh yes, go deepeeeer—oh fuck, this is good,” Wade groaned, closing his eyes and leaving his lips parted as Logan complied, pressing harder into the muscles. He came back to the bowl, preparing more paste, and he concentrated on the left arm, wrapping his fingers around it and pulling down gently, gradually dragging the soothing agent down the member and malaxating it into the skin and muscles.

When he arrived at the forearm, his thumbs joined around the crook of the elbow, and went down the carpal tunnel, which led to another deep moan that sent shivers down his spine. “Oh shit, didn’t know that could feel so good.”

“Carpal tunnel?”

“Yeah. Fuck, I do use it a lot, don’t I?”

Logan smiled, reaching the palm and gently massaging the paste into it, flicking some skin flakes out of the way and concentrating on the rough spots until he felt it falling lax in his grasp. “Alright, one done,” he commented, reaching back into the bowl, and placing himself by Wade’s right side to repeat the same operation.

He had to start actively ignoring the effect that those dramatic groans and moans had on him, and even more aggressively ignoring the twitches he perceived in Wade’s nether area, fully and unashamedly open to his view.

It got worse as he lathered the paste on his fingers and pressed them into the man’s chest; he reopened his eyes and they met in stunned silence. His breath caught in the base of his throat, and he cleared it, looking down to the pectorals to keep control on his work. He felt like an idiot; it was obvious, fucking obvious that Wade had abandoned shame as a concept long ago, and that he was the only one truly caring about this current situation. He felt like a fool, assuming that somebody like Wade would truly pick somebody like him out of a crowd; nobody would.

Nobody would.

Come read chapter 1 here!

[katuschka]

Miss Lucifer – Part One

Jake Kiszka x Lilith (f!OC) x Josh Kiszka

3000+ words

What happens in Berlin, stays in Berlin…but sometimes the outcome of the most whimsical ideas can alter the course of your whole life. Sometimes, you need to be shown the end of the road to be able to take it. 

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, intended for adult readers. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Also, if you're under 18, go find some other entertainment elsewhere.

Warnings: alcohol consumption, masturbation, allusions to violence, whiplash, emotional whiplash, otherwise not much yet, BUT let me warn you in advance – Part Two is going to be intense – oral and penetrative sex, fingering, substance abuse, kidnapping (of sorts), hallucinations, manipulation, dark forces etc. (full list tomorrow)

Taglist

Part Two

Inhale…exhale…inhale…exha...ouch! Fuck!

There are certain very various benefits to the use of yoga…none of which you’ll be able to experience when both the body and the mind simply protest against your conscious efforts to feel better. 

God knows Josh consciously tried, but this was no use. Nineteen rounds of Khatu Pranam completed, and he still felt like shit. The original goal for today was twenty five repetitions, but now he feared that continuing with this might actually make it all worse. The strained muscle was just the tip of the iceberg. His whole body, weakened by the lack of sleep and a nauseating hangover, was held hostage by that nagging, guttural feeling which he just couldn’t fully comprehend, no matter how hard he tried. That outward grumpiness that even transformed into an unfortunate fit of rage yesterday, was caused by an underlying anxiety that was griping at his guts lately. That much he understood, even though the others didn’t. The question was why he was feeling on edge all of the sudden. Everything was fine! Nothing had changed, right? Well, seemingly… 

So, with the final huff, Josh returned back to the Vajrasana position and tried to stretch the stiff neck one more time. However, as soon as he tilted the head to the side, the sharp, stabbing pain in his upper trapezius made his face twist in discomfort. What started as a simple case of a strained muscle developed into some sort of psychosomatic ache that felt like a pinched nerve, even though their physiotherapist said it was fine. Oh the irony, and a truly hilarious cosmic retribution for striking Jake’s nerve…

At least the guitar survived, otherwise he probably wouldn’t. 

It had been a long time since they last let the shit escalate like that instead of just telling each other to fuck off. He was fast enough to duck when the blow came, so thankfully, he wouldn’t sport a black eye on Wednesday. Perhaps too fast, though, jerking his head to the side with such abruptness that eventually left him with aching muscles and a throbbing headache. Add it to that underlying unease that caused all this mess, and he suddenly understood why the rockstars of yore often resorted to demolishing their hotel rooms. 

Touring was both uplifting and stressful, but usually, the positive aspects of the whole experience prevailed. And when things got tough, they always had one another. Not this time. They were no longer teenagers with just one goal in mind. Things had changed. The fleet had been splitting. 

Ever since they landed in the Netherlands a few days ago, Josh just couldn’t shake off this unreasonable irritation that made him jump down everyone’s throat, and even though yesterday’s show was a success, the trip as a whole was slowly turning into a shitshow. Jake’s bad temper mirrored his own, and neither of them cared to ask what was wrong. The tension between the two of them proved to be contagious, bad mood eventually spreading like plague in the confines of their bus. 

They checked in the hotel just a few hours ago, arriving relatively late as they had decided to spend the night in Landgraaf to fight off all the remaining effects of jetlag. Not that it helped much, because no one slept after the show. At least it gave them sufficient excuse to spend most of the ride in their bunks.

They all left the bus in silence this afternoon and went their separate ways into their separate rooms, leaving what started as a petty feud pretty much unresolved. Now it threatened to turn into a real problem, like a festering pus pocket underneath what looked like a minor blister. What next…

He tried to make sense of it all, but this train of thoughts only made his head spin. Still kneeling on the floor, with his forehead pressed against the exercise mat and his arms outstretched, Josh let out a heavy sigh, feeling the tears welling behind his closed eyelids. He recognized the feeling. It had been years since he had his last panic attack, but it was unmistakable. Whimpering, he smashed his fist down on the floor, trying to fight it. He had been looking forward to this leg of the tour, really. There was absolutely no rational reason for him to feel this way…or to behave the way he had, which meant like a jerk, basically. 

Irrational reasons shouldn’t get overlooked, but he didn't feel fit enough – both mentally and physically – to psychoanalyze them right now. Right now, he just wanted …no. Needed to numb himself down a bit. Again. As the exercise didn’t help, he’d better just get wasted. Again. Yeah. 

So, a time for some tea, perhaps? With whisky, of course. Or, better yet, whisky with tea. Honestly, the tea was just a fragrant cosmetic enhancement to make the whole process of getting shitfaced seem more sophisticated. Also, it’s important to stay hydrated. But who was he kidding? He’d drink cheap rum right from the bottle if he had to, even though he hated that shit. Anything that would make both the pain and the restlessness go away would be good, and tomorrow’s hangover be damned, just like today’s. If only someone just poured it down his throat so that he wouldn’t have to move a muscle. Oh yeah, laziness should be added to the long list of “what-the-fuck-is-wrong-with-you”. It was debilitating. 

It was the growing darkness that finally forced him to move, booze or no booze. He had laid the mat down during golden hour, with the sun illuminating the hotel room floor with muted orange light, creating a much needed illusion of peace that however lasted for only a short while. As the evening progressed, the room was getting increasingly darker minute by minute. Another orb was now illuminating the walls, still bright and powerful, as it had been a full moon just two days ago. Its silvery gleam felt a bit oppressive at the moment. Not really helping much. He couldn’t stand it, to be honest. So, grunting in effort, he finally got up from the mat and dragged his sore body towards the minibar to check on the supply, switching on the armchair light on his way. It instantly filled the room with a mercifully pleasant warm glow. 

The minibar proved to be a rockstar’s dream, and amply stocked with tequila, too. However, Josh’s mind was somehow already set on whisky this evening and there were a few shots of Tullamore Dew in that magic mini fridge. He had never tried that one before, so to hell with tea. Smacking his lips in anticipation, he unscrewed one of the mini bottles and emptied its content down his throat, while trying not to tilt his head too much in fear of another spasm of pain. 

The effect was immediate, as Josh hadn’t eaten much during the day. Low appetite was obviously another one of the symptoms of his crankinesiosis. Right now, he was in fact thankful for it, with the heat quickly spreading through his chest. He could even feel it tingling in his groin area, which gave him some new ideas on how to spend the rest of the evening. He took two more bottles from the fridge, nestled down in the armchair and helped himself to a second shot. It quickly gave him a bit more intense buzz. With it came a brand new wave of emotions, though. A melancholic yearning for something seemingly unattainable was probably the most prominent one. You’re hopeless, Joshua Michael. Just hopeless. Quickly, think of something more agreeable. 

A threesome. As soon as the vision appeared behind his closed eyelids, invisible hands started stroking his bare torso, making his head spin in a pleasant way. Two imaginary fingertips pinched his nipple while another hand traveled down his stomach, making his abs tighten in anticipation. Without even knowing how that particular idea entered his brain, he quickly started palming himself through his yoga pants in a desperate attempt to chase the feeling. Yes, this was it, and he got rock hard in seconds. Pulling the waistband down, he started stroking himself in earnest, twisting his wrist in an excruciatingly slow motion every time he reached the already leaking head. He needed this to be intense, but he also needed it to last for a while. The vision didn’t, though, as he got distracted by a loud, shattering noise coming from the other side of the wall. Jake’s room. After that, he was once again left all by himself. 

Opening his eyes, he noticed for the first time that the large mirror which was propped against one of the walls was in fact facing the armchair, ergo him. What a sight. He was a handsome guy, he had to admit. Modest when sober, but exhibiting a healthy amount of self-love everytime he fed his head. Preferably through the senses.

He wondered briefly what would happen if he just took his phone and recorded this. A king of the bitches, holding his big and shiny scepter. Parted lips and shuddering exhales. His heavy eyelids, partially covering the dark and shiny windows into his already inebriated mind. What a giant fuck off to everyone who ever mocked him it would be. A permanent ban from Instagram too, but not before he’d cause a tumult. The idea made him chuckle. Of course he wouldn’t do it – to Sam and Daniel – but a man can dream. He’d love to see Jake’s reaction…

His daydreams about turning into a real enfant terrible were suddenly interrupted by the sound of someone assaulting his door. He tried to ignore the first cannonade of knocks. Whoever it was and whatever they wanted, Josh was sure it could wait until tomorrow. Can’t a man jerk off in peace? A few seconds passed in tense silence. Tilting his head back, Josh started stroking himself again when the pounding noises resumed, making his heart jump. 

“Open the door, asshole!” 

Jake… Well, so much for a little, healthy dose of solitude. Tucking himself back in his pants, he slowly got up to let his brother in.   

“Speak of the devil,” he muttered, his hand still clutching a door handle. That confused Jake for a second, making him look over Josh’s shoulder to see if he had company, but the room was empty. “Talking to yourself again? So nice of you to keep thinking about me while…doing whatever you were doing.”

Nostrils flaring, Josh didn’t try to conceal he was not amused. “Yeah, be sure that me, myself and I are absolutely not happy to see you. What do you want, Jake?”

“I’m bored.”

“Cool. What makes you think I care?” Josh asked, while taking notice of Jake’s current attire. Rugged but fancy. 

Truth be told, so was Josh. Bored, that is…and then some. That simple word could serve as an oversimplified explanation of what was really going on. Jake was just the first one to realize that. The next step was to realize what might have been wrong with his brother. Their trips overseas used to be filled with almost childish excitement back at those times when everything was new… the four of them exploring new horizons and learning new things. Together, they witnessed their lives changing abruptly, and living through it all. That was no longer true. No longer boys, they were somehow on their own now, getting emancipated, and more and more sticking to a routine of their “established” career. Josh secretly hated that. He needed people, just like he needed new impulses. And he cared about what others need too, one of his biggest fears being that others would no longer need him…

“I don’t want you to care, I want you to go out with me,” Jake retorted, still feigning indifference. Without any further explanation, he just moved past Josh, who was still standing in the doorway, and beelined straight to Josh’s minibar. He either did not notice or chose to ignore the telling bulge in Josh’s pants, which was merciful, given the circumstances.

Jake did notice. He just paid it no mind since he did the same thing just fifteen minutes ago, while his own mind was trying to fight off the vivid and intrusive (and – let’s be honest here – satisfying) images of him throwing his twin out of the window. Jerking off was simply the first thing he tried when he needed to clear his head and release some tension, so it was pretty understandable that Josh resorted to the same self-treatment. Imagining killing each other was acceptable. Dicks were indeed magical instruments, with their own cognitive functions. Are you happy? Well, just choke the chicken and make yourself feel even better. Are you tense? Sad? You know the drill…

Except it didn’t work this time. He successfully emptied his balls and it felt really good for a few seconds, but things remained broken and his own mind was still reeling, just like Josh’s. Still both angry and distracted, he accidentally knocked down a whole tray with heavy whisky tumblers, almost cutting his left hand in the process. That’s why he finally decided to bite the bullet and come here. With a plan. 

He poured himself a drink while Josh unscrewed the third whisky, sat on the corner of his bed, and gestured for Jake to get on with it, whatever it was. Jake took a deep breath, then sighed, took a sip, and finally started talking. 

“Look, I don’t wanna fight. I’m sorry for yesterday. I totally understand.”

“Understand what?”

“Your concerns. I’ve been asking that question myself.” Josh just kept watching him, as the realization hit. He didn’t have to ask what question, a mere look was enough. At first his breath hitched, but he could feel the knot in his chest loosening just a second later. Jake’s sole presence and that silent communication between them was enough to clear the fog in his head. Fucking twinning. If only they weren’t so stubborn. Jake answered anyway: “Where do we go from here.” 

The next album was almost finished, new lore already forged and a new path just set. But even though it was all done and ready to be presented to the world – or maybe because it was done and ready – it somehow belonged in the past, not the future. They had already moved past it, they just weren’t sure where they were heading. 

Josh nodded in understanding. “You’ve changed.”

“Well, so have you. And that’s cool. I mean, we’re bound to…but it just feels that we’re approaching a fork in the road and I think it scares me. I don’t want us to move separate ways. At least not just yet, and definitely not because of some stupid disagreements that could be repaired easily if we just tried. Maybe it will become inevitable one day, but I think we still have a lot to say. Together. See, I lied. I do want you to care. And I’m sorry if I ever made you feel otherwise. I guess we both know that some things probably need to change. Let’s just go and find out what it is.” With that, Jake exhaled explosively as if he had been holding his breath the whole time. In a way, it felt exactly like that. At last, he could take a breath…

They remained silent for a minute, Josh now lying on his back with his legs still dangling from the bed, Jake still standing by the minibar, watching Josh examine the blank ceiling. Jake knew Josh was just thinking about what he had just said, so he waited patiently. 

“So, where do you wanna go?” Josh asked finally, still immersed in studying the intricacies of bland white coating above him. He wasn’t ignoring what Jake just said. They both knew he acknowledged it, and this was his way to tell Jake he too was willing to do something about it. A small black spot right above his head suddenly moved, which threw the switch for his train of thoughts momentarily. Was it a fly or a tiny spider? He couldn’t tell in this lightning…How come they don’t fall? If he were high, he’d probably laugh, but intoxication didn’t work that way. It just made him realize that it was about time to stop being a prick. He closed his eyes just to refocus, then looked at his brother, indicating that he had his full attention at last. It was a cue for Jake to answer. 

“I don’t know. Just… somewhere. Night life beckons,” he said, rubbing his chin, which indicated there was more more on his mind. 

Josh wasn’t entirely sure that getting wasted together was the right thing to do right now, as it didn’t work yesterday, or the day before, but he succumbed to the idea. If nothing else, agreeing to Jake’s whim would be his own peace offering gesture, albeit weak. “Ok,” Josh sighed. “Lemme call Richard...”

“Don’t. Let’s go alone. Just the two of us.”

Josh sat up abruptly, eyeing Jake in disbelief: “Now? And in Berlin? Are you out of your mind?” 

“Exactly. In Berlin. Why not? We’ve been here before, but we haven’t seen much. Let’s just experience some different aspects of the city…or this country. The Dark series version of it, maybe, I don’t know. Raw emotions, mystery, real human history…that includes queer history,” he paused dramatically, which made Josh roll his eyes. “It’s all there,” he gestured towards whatever was there outside the window, then continued: “ We’ve been here many times before, in fact, and all we’ve got to know so far are just some Oktoberfest gimmicks…and we already know that from home. No wonder we feel stuck. This is just one example of many, but let’s start here and now. I mean, let’s experience something new. Let’s get uncomfortable. This is a perfect opportunity.”

Josh just shrugged. His mood had already improved enough to be able to have a normal conversation, but not yet enough to agree to this. “I’ve enjoyed the Oktoberfest version so far. Jugs of beer… huuuuge boobs…I like feeling comfortable.” He chuckled when Jake gave him his oh really look. To demonstrate his point even further, he raised his hands up and wiggled his fingers, as if trying to squeeze a pair of imaginary boobs, while rolling his eyes like a madman. “Jiggling. Pillowy. I like that.” 

“Yeah, whatever…so are we going? I promise we’re gonna find a decent pair of comfortable soft tits for you to knead so that I can finally indulge in some real, adult shit.”

Josh lay down again, shaking his head in disbelief, which only made Jake roll his eyes in annoyance. “C’mon Josh, that’s exactly it! I’m sick of this chickenshit. We’re grown men, for fuck’s sake.” When Josh didn’t respond, Jake put his glass back on the tray with a clang and gruffled: “Fine, I’m going by myself.”

“Jake, wait!” Josh scrambled from the bed in an attempt to stop his brother from leaving without him. He sighed, resigned: “Just give me ten minutes, tops.”

Thirty minutes later, they finally left Josh’s room and were off to the bowels of the city.

Part Two

@its-interesting-van-kleep @edgingthedarkness @writingcold @thewritingbeforesunrise @lvnterninthenight @fleet-of-fiction @takenbythemadness @myownparadise96 @gvfstuddedmajesty @josh-iamyour-mama @jazzyfigz @sanguinebats @love-isnt-greed @klarxtr @kiszkas-canvas @lyndz2names @wetkleenex-gvf

[icantspellthings]

The thing that I really like about The Boys as a show is that there is no *truly* evil characters, there is nobody so irredeemable and 100% an evil asshole piece of shit for the sake of being one (well except stormfront but we're ignoring her).

Like with A-train at first when we met him, he was this fame obsessed adrenaline junkie who is only focused on winning/being number one and his popularity. He literally killed Robin and was totally set up to be the "main bad guy". But as the series went on, we actually see his character fleshed out more. There are nuances to his actions that yes were done out of selfishness, but if you looked at it from his perspective he is nothing without the Seven, he is nothing without his fame and money, he wants so desperately to not fall into poverty and irrelevancy anymore that he would fight tooth and nail just to maintain statusquo. And we start to see he realises the consequences of his actions whis brother got hurt and he apologised to hughie. Does it makes A-train a "Good" person? No but it certainly makes him a more sympathetic character.

Other characters, too, like The Deep who is a fucking rapist who you are primed to HATE right from the start for what he did to Annie. But as time goes on, your hate starts to lessen and transform into pity. At his core, Kevin is pathetic, insecure, and quite frankly a very idiotic and gullible man. He sexually assults other to gain power over them, does this make his actions justifiable, No. But it does make his actions understandable. He isn't a good person but he's a good *character* because he isn't just this 100% evil caricature of a person, he has nuances and contradictions and sometimes even sympathetic moments.

I could go on and on and on about the other characters in The Seven or even all the other minor villains. How they're actually fleshed out characters instead of just one dimensional villains. And also the inverness of the good guys not being saintly, can never do wrongers, always doing the right thing. They're the protagonists, but that doesn't make them perfect people. Case in point with butcher!!! And how he drags hughie down to his level of "doing anything for the mission." The way butcher uses MMs obsession against him to literally drag him back into his revenge plot despite the fact that MM just wants to live a normal life with his daughter and literally had ro rebuild his life from nothing 3 times! Now thanks to butcher, the man is a grade A CUNT who manipulates the people around him for his own gains! Yeah it's "for the greater good" but it's still not a nice way to treat your friends

Hell even fucking annie who the show sets up as this pure saintly paragon of goodness and kindness fucks up. Half the time she doesn't know what the fuck she is even doing just stumbling along trying to do what she thinks is best. Hell most of the time her plans doesn't work out or activity makes things worse! AND THATS OKAY!

BECAUSE I LOVE THEM ALL SO MUCH! because they're so painfully human, they make mistakes, they try to seek forgiveness but somethings can't be forgiven. They try their best but somtimes it makes things worse. They have a characters arc but then will walk back 20 steps until they become even worse because its the essence of what being human means! We all make mistakes, progress isn't linear. Sometimes, you take 1 step forward and then 40 steps back until all improvements are undone and you're back at the same point possibly even worse of. But you keep trudging forward because you're alive and you're human and the least you can do is wake up another day and try your damnest.

Its what I love so much about this show, everyone is SO SO SO painfully human.

[nahoney22]

*kicks in the door and falls down*

Hello there friend! I humbly ask for Wrecker smut.

Maybe the reader (gn or female) is highly functional depressive and most of the batch it's not noticeable yet but Wrecker figures it out pretty quick that they aren't doing good because they start to buzz their head weekly? they usually do that only every other week when it gets to long but now it's borderline obsessive and wrecker remembers that they once mentioned that shaving their head is stress relief for then. Just soft, comforting fucking please.

Luv u <<33

I’ll Take Care of You***

Wrecker X GN!Reader

word count: 1.4k

When Wrecker notices a shift in your behaviour, he knew he had to do everything to show you how loved you really are.

warnings: NSFW, 18+ Only. Angst. Explicit sexual content and language. Gender Neutral reader. Established relationship. Soft smut, mirror sex, aftercare, comfort. Reader receiving. Mentions of depressed reader. Not proofread.

authors note: thank you so much for the request @cloned-eyes , literally like everything you do! Hope this is okay. 🤍

For the past week, Wrecker had been closely observing you, concerned about your well-being. Seeing you buzz your hair obsessively was taking its toll on him but clearly not as much as it is with you. He knew you shaved your hair when you felt stressed, a sign of relief but it was getting out of control. So, Wrecker couldn't ignore the signs any longer and felt a deep need to take care of you.

One evening, as you made your way to the bathroom, he swiftly closed the gap between you, causing you to gasp in surprise as he entered the tight space. Your bewildered eyes met his, and you asked if everything was alright.

He replied with a simple, "Uh, yeah, sure," but his eyes betrayed his true feelings. You turned to the mirror, saying "okay" slowly, and began to raise the clippers to your head. Just before you could start, his large hand gently wrapped around your wrist and lowered it, leaving you puzzled. "What... why are you shaving your hair again?" he inquired.

As you blinked at him in the mirror, unsure of how to respond, you asked, "Oh, I just think it's getting long. Why?"

Shaking his head, Wrecker used his free hand to caress the buzzed sensation of your hair. "It's not long at all, sweetie."

As he continued to rub your head, it suddenly dawned on you what was happening. Your initial frown transformed into a sigh, and you lowered your head, staring into the basin.

"Are you stressed?" he asked gently.

"Exhausted," you admitted, finally realising how tired you truly must be. You were great at hiding your feelings, had great ways of coping without it becoming harmful but this was starting to become almost obsessive.

Seeing your shoulders slump, filled with care, Wrecker wrapped his arms around your front, resting his chin on your head, his hands moving up and down soothingly. "What's got ya worked up? The missions? Me?" he asked.

You chuckled but shook your head. How could he ever be the source of your stress? "I guess it's just the missions. This life. This never-ending war."

He hummed in agreement as you gazed at your reflection in the mirror, tilting your head back against his chest. "I'll be fine. It'll be fine."

"You know you can always talk to me if you're feeling low? I'm always here for ya," he whispered, smiling at you through the mirror. You knew he was right, but sometimes it was challenging to put your feelings into words, which was why you resorted to actions without even realising it.

"I know," you nodded, interlocking your hands with his and bringing his knuckles to your lips. "I wish I could just relax for a second."

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked, eager to support you in any way he could.

You thought of nothing for a second but an instant urge set in. Your cheeks burn as you meet his gaze. “Fuck me. Softly. Lovingly.”

You see him still for a moment, a little surprised by your request but a toothy grin plays on his features and spins you to face him. “You don’t have to ask me twice.”

You should know the answer to that by now, especially when you see the look in Wrecker’s eyes, knowing he will take care of you. They're low-lidded and full of intent, and it only takes a fraction of a second to close the gap between you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he leans down, breath warm against your neck as he gently kisses along your skin. Your eyes flutter close, humming in appreciation when he dips down, soon pressing a kiss to your parted lips. His hands drift down, just brushing softly along your waist, your hips. Large and battle-worn hands caress you, his nails drag easily and gently across your skin as he lifts your shirt over your head.

The kiss is long - deep - and by the time that Wrecker pulls away to dip down and mouth at your neck again, you’re breathless. And nude. He had managed to pry you out of your clothes, his soon following swiftly until your bodies are pressed against one another, his cock erected and pressing against your stomach.

You move your hand down, caressing his chest all the way to his naval but he stops you and shakes his head. “Don’t worry abou’ me, let me take care of you.”

You smile appreciatively at him but soon find yourself gasping as he lifts you onto the basin, wedging himself between your legs. His lips assault your chest in the most divine way that has your toes curling and your heart pumping.

But then he pulls away and brings your lips back to his. Wrecker's touch was gentle and exploratory, as he traced his fingers along your skin. His hands moved with a tenderness that showed his deep affection and desire to provide comfort.

As he brushed his fingers across your arms, your skin felt soft and warm beneath his touch. Goosebumps rippling along your skin. He couldn't help but admire the delicate texture of your skin, relishing in the sensation of it under his fingertips.

His exploration continued, fingers moving over your shoulders, your neck, and down your back. Each caress conveyed a sense of intimacy and connection, as if he were seeking to understand every part of you, both inside and out.

You closed your eyes, savoring the warmth and reassurance of his touch. It was as if every stroke of his hand was a silent promise that he would always be there for you.

In that moment, you felt safe, cherished, and stress free.

His actions are swift and precise but it felt as though he hadn’t even moved you at all. But here you were leaning over the basin, eyes trained on yourself in the mirror as he ruts up behind you, cock sliding between your cheeks. “Are you ready?”

“Yes, Wrecker.” You sigh, wincing a touch as he buries himself slowly into you, waiting with ragged breath to allow you to adjust. “M-Move, it’s okay.”

He fucks you in every way that is perfect. He is slow when you want him to be. Fast when you’re begging him for more. All the while he locks eyes on you through the mirror, whispering words of pure adoration. “Don’t look at me, look at yourself.” He rasps, grabbing the back of your neck and tilting your head an inch down so you could lock eyes with yourself. “Look how perfect you are as I fuck you,”

"Fuck," you mutter, "Fuck me. Please, Wrecker-"

Your wanton moans seems to do the trick, because at that, Wrecker is thrusting in sharply and all at once. You can't help the way you arch your back, lifting your head and crying out sweetly at the sudden movement. You feel every drag of his cock, every press of his hips that felt like he was splitting you in half.

You feel so full. In every way.

"Come on, babe," Wrecker coaxes, voice gentle, even as he fucks into you, hard and slow, "Look at yourself."

How could you not comply? You listen to his request, once again letting your eyes dart over your own reflection - over your flushed face, hardened nipples, sweaty skin.

"Just like that," Wrecker gasps, voice just verging on the edge of a moan. His own face was flushed. His damp skin and blown-out eyes are evidence of that. "Amazing," He murmurs, "You're beautiful, aren’t you? Perfect in every way,” his thrusts become sloppy and lazy. “You look so perfect taking my cock. Feel so good..."

You find yourself touching yourself, that burn in your gut was too powerful to ignore and it’s not long until your legs are twitching before you find your release.

Your own moan is drowned out by Wreckers; his climax evident as you stare back at him in the mirror, back arching, head thrown back and beautiful eyes screwing closed. His pace doubles at your orgasm and the feeling of your muscles tightening around him and it’s only moments until he collapses forward, his face buried in the back of your neck.

You sigh, almost heavenly at the feeling. All your sudden troubles seem to have diminished. Silently, Wrecker stands tall again and turns you to face him and pulls you into his embrace. It’s long and comfortable and before you could say anything, before you could even thank him for taking care of you, he lifts you and the two of you squeeze into the shower and let the warm water cascade over your bodies.

You knew he would always take care of you.

Masterlist

Tags: @andyoufollowyourheart @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @jambolska-grozdova @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @rain-on-kamino @either-madness-or-brilliance @staycalmandhugaclone e @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @chrissywakingup @kixs-husband @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @tech-aficionado o @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @seriowan @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @raevulsix @imalovernotahater

[chlobliviate]

Wolfstar Microfics - Penpals

Words: 792

@wolfstarmicrofic

🌙✨🌙✨🌙

21st August

Moony,

Please tell me you’re still coming this weekend. Evans actually replied to one of James’ (many) letters, and not just to tell him to fuck off, and he is being unbearable. If I have to hear one more sentence that starts “She said” I might just unforgivable myself. Please put me out of my misery, I’ve been helping Effie cook just to get away from the lovesick prick. Note that I can cook now. I’ll show you this weekend, I asked her to teach me how to make Samosas and they’re surprisingly easy. So I can make you samosas now! Hope the moon wasn’t too bad, wish we could have been there.

Padfoot

✨✨✨✨

21st August

Pads,

I’ll be there Friday night, I promise.

To be fair to James, it’s a pretty big deal for him. But rest assured I’ll tell him to shut up if you need me to. Lily didn’t tell me that she replied to him, so now I need to fire off a letter to her and ask her if she sustained a head injury. Please don’t off yourself, I don’t want to spend the week with lovesick Prongs on my own.

Samosas! For me? I’m glad James’ arseholery has resulted in something good at least. I will never tire of Effie’s Samosas, so the bar is high! I hope you’re practicing ready for the weekend, I expect to be wowed.

The moon wasn’t great. I have two ugly new scars on my jaw/cheek, just to prepare you for the weekend.

The wolf misses his friends, and I miss mine.

Moony

🌙🌙🌙🌙

21st August

Dear Lily,

I have received news that you sent a letter to James, and I was so concerned that I had to write to you immediately. Are you alright? Were you injured? How bad was the head injury? Do they think you’ll ever gain back full brain function?

But seriously, what the fuck? He won’t shut up about it and he’s driving Sirius mad. I’m spending the week with them and if he’s as insufferable as Sirius claims, I will be blaming you.

Hope you’re enjoying France.

Also, I told you so.

Remus

🌺🌺🌺🌺

22nd August

Moons,

Sorry the moon was shit. We’ll be back at school by the next one and it’ll be better. Also, I won’t tell you again, your scars aren’t ugly. They’re cool and rugged, and make you look distinguished and mysterious. I will hear no arguments on this subject, thank you. I also meant to ask how many books you’ve read this summer. I think you’ll be incredibly proud that I have read seven whole books in the last month. One of them was mostly pictures, but I think it still counts. I’m agonised that your only issue with my death is that you’ll have to cope with Prongs’ pining alone. Do I truly mean so little to you, Remus? I fear I shall never recover from this slight.

Yours,

Pads

PS: I made another batch of samosas and honestly, you’re going to swoon when you taste them. They’re so good. Effie seems to love bonding with me over a hot stove, and it’s very sweet. I love living here so much. I try not to think about what I’d be doing if I wasn’t here, but sometimes the comparison is helpful. Well, that got sappy. My next letter will only be discussing Quidditch and boobs to make up for it. Counting down the hours til Friday.

✨✨✨✨

23rd August

Pads,

Not long to go now. Can’t wait to see you later, and for samosas.

Seven books? Wow. That’s impressive! I’m a few ahead of that, but I’ve literally had nothing to do but read since July. Moony and Padfoot book club, when?

Can you believe it’s been over a month since I saw you? Maybe you’ve finally had that growth spurt you’ve been hoping for. My mum seems to think I’ve grown, but she always says that.

It wasn’t enough for me to tell you not to top yourself in general? Do you need me to tell you how much I’d miss you creeping into my bed at 3 am and hogging the blankets? Or how sad it would make me to not have to share every cup of tea I make? Weirdly, I would actually miss that, to be fair, so please be alive when I get there.

If I wanted to hear about Quidditch and boobs, I’d write to Prongs. Please spare me. I’ll probably be with you before it arrives, so there’s little point. I might send this right before I floo so you don’t get chance to reply. If so, hi, I’m already here!

Looking forward to swooning over you! your samosas!

Your

Moony

🌙🌙🌙🌙

[gojoswhitebabydolllashes]

The decline and fall of two wolverines

Logan howlett x reader

-

DEADPOOL AND WOLVERINE SPOILERS!!!

-

Warnings: idk yet. The brain emoji represents when a flashback is starting.

-

🧠

I tried to murder Jean Grey.

I say tried because nothing can happen in the mansion without Xavier poking around in your brain.

'Are you sure that's what you want to do?'

'You know you can't turn back after this'

'Your better than this, you know that'

His voice echoed painfully through my head. I held my dagger tightly as tears streamed from my eyes.

'Come to me, child'

The pain grew deeper. Invading each cavity of my skull and destroying my senses completely. It was unbearable, and I thought I might explode within seconds if I didn't get out of here soon.

'STOP. FOR GODSAKE STOP IT!'

And this is when I learnt that I could talk back.

-----

The mission to destroy Cassandra Nova was not going to be easy. Despite Wade's excitement to, and i quote verbatim 'absolutely shred some fucking skulls' it turns out I would end up siding with Logan, who also felt strongly that this was a horrible idea.

"You are going to get killed." I put my head in my hands.

"It's worth it, we'd rather die doing this than die here like cowards" Elektra scoffed.

I glared at her and stood up. The floorboards beneath me creaked eerily as I strode toward elektra with a slit eyes.

''Are you calling me a coward?"

I watched the woman gulp. "No, I called him a coward. He's the one forcing you to stay here," she pointed at Logan, who furrowed his brows and expelled his long silver claws from both hands.

A coward?

A fucking coward?

I held up my hand, and within an instant, it began to transform into a long knife. From my wrist to the top of my head was a silver blade.

I wish I could say I had a cool name for it. But I don't. I'm just a human katana.

"I'm sure your a great person, but unless you want to start drinking through a fucking straw I suggest you apologize"

The room was silent. I felt as if i had ruined their moment, but I didn't care.

"Sorry, you're not a coward." she rolled her eyes and walked off.

I retracted my hand blade, but Logan still held his own out, the shining metal claws protruding ominously as he stood in the light of the window.

I turned around and looked at everyone.

"Motherfucker that was scary as shit. I almost cut off my own dick to stop you doing it with that fucking thing"

Even Wade's joke couldn't stop my anger. I wasn't going with them. They were all going to die anyways. I'd rather hear of it than be there to watch it.

-

🧠

I'm not sure that there's anyone left on earth who understands what loss means.

Yes, it's death. Yes, it's watching life drain from a person. But it can be the loss of your life together too and the loss of their love and their voice, how their breathing sounds and how they laugh.

Hell what the fuck do I know. After all what have I truly lost?

God fucking damn it.

The years at the TVA were not as smooth going as I had initially hoped. Each day was something new, another disaster. I had even written a list of the reoccurring people, the ones that we could basically never get rid of.

Monday: always scarlet witch. Always so tattered and torn, shivering with heartbreak and anger of grief.

Tuesday: Loki's. Loki's of every kind. Ragnarok Loki's, TVA Loki's, jotun Loki's even.

Wednesday: Perhaps the most shattering of all, we would get iron man variants quite often. Sometimes, a zombie sometimes just before the blip. Most times, it was before he built the iron Man suit at all.

Thursdays: Captain America. Now, these were tough ones. Their were a fucking lot of these. Zombie ones, soldier ones, ones still frozen somehow. Pre serum ones. Ones where he works for HYDRA. Those are the scariest ones, the red skull Steve Rogers is not for the faint hearted.

Fridays: Fridays were... well Friday.

-

I sat outside the hut as the others geared up for their mission. Logan had come with me, but he didn't say much. My Logan talked way too much, so it was awkward hearing him be so silent.

"Your not going?" I spoke.

"Nah. I don't have the fucking patience for it"

A small moment of silence ensued before Logan spoke again.

"That hand thing you can do," he started. "Is it all over you?"

I scratched my neck and yawned. "To be honest, I've never thought of it"

I looked at my legs and stretched them out. "If I could have knife legs it would sure make walking interesting" I laughed

Logan beside me chuckled. God, he even laughs like him.

"I thought I was the only one who had this kind of power," he said as he brought out one of his claws.

"I thought I used to be as well. Your claws are made of adamantium aren't they? Well your entire skeleton is isn't it?"

He replied with a hum. "So what's yours then? Stainless steel?" He joked

I laughed at his words. "No. Actually, it's Vibranium"

"Vibranium, huh? What's that like a vibrating metal?"

It occurred to me then and there that this Logan doesn't know about the multiverse.

"No, it's uh, one of the earths strongest metals. like from wakanda?" I smiled nervously.

Apparently, something in him ticked off as I said that. He grew out the rest of his claws on his hand and pushed me against the tree behind me with one swift move. I was crushed between adamantium spikes and a rough tree.

He scowled at me.

"You will never be my wife." He spat

Venom laced the air around us. Encasing me in a bubble of fear.

"You might look like her and talk like her, hell you even fucking smell like her, that stupid fucking flower scent. Follows you around like a lost puppy"

The hate in his eyes grew each word. "You are not my fucking wife and I don't give a single fuck about what happened in your universe, whether you saved my life or not, I hope in every single one of them, you fucking die"

[gingergofastboatsmojito]

Scale down

I have been thinking about what this concept in the Sydcarmy universe would look like if played out next season because that's where Carmy is going.

But I have a very hard time thinking of Carmy as a separate entity now, he's eternally intertwined in the tapestry he has been weaving with Sydney since she came into his life, and that's why his story restarted with her, she's his reset:

She's his chance to do it all differently this time around, not like when his relationship with Michael got fucked up. But even though he's trying, old habits die hard, and despite his heart being in the right place, he succumbed to his old default ways because apologies don't cut it anymore.

More about that here:

I believe The Bear's Legacy is about The Bear's found family branching out like Carmy's lines foreshadowed in 03x07 Legacy, because duh!

But in terms of Carmy as an individual, I think he's heading to a place where he will strip everything away and focus on what truly matters for him, which will lead us straight to SYDCARMY ENDGAME and I have already been talking about what this might entail, both in previous meta posts and in my fics:

This doesn't mean they won't get the star, no. In fact, I know they will, but they will get it when they are no longer chasing it and maybe once they do Carmy will decide he has had enough and diversify to other forms of art/outlets for his creativity because he said that "fixing" that restaurant (The Beef) was a way to fix the family

and he expresses himself through creativity.

So I'm expecting Carmy to walk from The Bear post-star either full or at least part-time and I'm also expecting Syd's dream spot to happen, (maybe in a time jump?) where she's gonna cook for people and make them happy

And that will result in them only focusing on what truly matters:

For Carmy that means this:

And this:

For Syd it means this:

And this:

Find any similarities between what truly matters for Carmy and for Syd and therefore what a happy ending would look like for both of them?

Me too.

Remember to follow my tag #Gingerpovs 💋

[softshrimpy]

How To Woo A Hot Principal

Step 17: Oh Gods, She's Wearing Pants (NSFW)

Summary: Working at the Weathervane was exactly what you needed. The routine, the people, your co-workers. It certainly helped that a certain tall, blonde, fucking gorgeous woman happened to frequent the cafe. Now some may call hopelessly flirting with your customers inappropriate behavior.

But truly, when it came to Larissa Weems, who could blame you?

I'm backkkk! Sorry this update took so long, I started a new job a few weeks ago and it has been a hugeee adjustment. But have some smut from this lil shrimp 🦐✨

Tags: @variant-2402 @the-bagel24 @autumn-leaves-chasing-breeze @kimiinou @muffintopxs @h-doodles @bbykens @lilfartbox1 @bigolgay @winterfireblond @gela123 @i-like-reading @hopelessly-sapphic @alder-saan @im-a-carnivorous-plant @weemssapphic @barbarasstar

(pls let me know if you want to be tagged/ I missed you!)

Chapter 16

Cross Posted on AO3 Here

HWTAHP Masterlist

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

Life was actually looking up. You had been seeing Dr. Kinbott every other week to help work through the plethora of issues you had. On top of that Vlad was still getting you moving every day (you low-key hated him for it). He had also taken it upon himself to teach you everything he knew of vampire history. Sometimes you weren’t sure whether he was embellishing some of the stories or if vampire history was that insane.

Sometimes Yoko would tag along, more often than not to help him teach you how to use some of your vampire powers. You snorted the first time Vlad referred to them as that and then nearly died when he moved from one end of the room to right in front of you in the blink of an eye to glare down at you.

The one ‘vampire power’ you had the most control over was your sudden acquisition of fuckin epic strength. And by most control you mean you had to learn super quickly how not to rip every door you opened off its hinges.

Your other abilities weren’t anywhere near refined. Yoko had been trying to teach you how to use your enhanced speed which you had managed once before ending up smashing into a wall. You were fine, the wall however did suffer. (yet another wall that is a victim of your new powers. Rip.)

Since you didn’t know who your family was or where you came from both Vlad and Yoko had explained that you may have other abilities if you came from what they called a Legacy family. Apparently, they can have some super sick extra powers like hypnosis or transformation and the like. You were sure you were just a regular vampire, the odds of you having any extra powers were so slim you didn’t need to worry.

On top of that things between you and Larissa were better than ever. You spent every evening together, often ending with you staying the night in her quarters. And fucking hell was waking up to her almost every morning a gift from the gods.

On the nights when you’d stay with her, you’d help her with her evening routine, always ecstatic she let you help her. You’d help remove the pins from her hair, brushing it out for her as she removes her makeup. You always press kisses into her hair afterwards, your heart skipping a beat and the small soft smile on her face at your actions.

You’d both then change into pyjamas, hers always sinfully attractive on her. Then you spend the evening having dinner and cuddling on her couch. Sometimes she’d tell your stories of her day or about her past. you loved listening to her speak, you could quite literally do it for hours.

This morning you were lucky enough to wake up in her arms once again. You took a deep breath, inhaling the smell of her and feeling a smile creep across your face. You bury your head into her neck, sighing happily. You feel her stir a few moments later, her arm tightening around your waist. She lets out her own content sigh before pressing a kiss to your head.

“Mmm…good morning my darling,” she hums, her voice still raspy from sleep.

“Good morning pretty lady,” you hum back, leaning up to kiss her chastely.

The two of you stay like that for a little while, Larissa laying on her back with her eyes closed, one arm wrapped around your waist. You grinning up at her, bringing your hand up to trace the lines of her face. These moments with her, where the two of you are simply existing together, are your favourite moments in the world.

Eventually, though Larissa has to get up and get dressed, she does have a school to run after all. You love watching her get ready for the day. She always wears such gorgeous outfits, always looks so elegant and-

Oh, holy fuck she’s wearing pants today.

She so rarely wears pants, usually opting for skirts or dresses. So when she slips on a pair of form-hugging pants with a chunky belt and white sweater you almost choke on air and feel your face heat up. She bends over to pick up a pair of heels and you absolutely stare shamelessly at her ass.

You must have let out some noise, probably a rather gay sound with the way Larissa turns and looks at you. She grins smugly as she toes on her heels. She pulls on a blazer to complete the look before leaning over to press a kiss to your cheek.

“I’ll see you later darling,” she all but purrs and you have to resist every urge to pull her into the bed and ravish her right then and there.

“I-you- have a good day m’love,” you manage, ogling her as she all but saunters away.

———

You spend the rest of the day catching glimpses of the white-haired beauty every hour or so. She seems to be moving around campus far more than usual. Not that you’re complaining. When she does come around, nine times out of ten you get so distracted you walk into or drop something.

On top of that, sometimes when she appeared she would shoot you these looks. You couldn’t explain it but you swear the woman was trying to kill you. Gods, you wanted to climb her like a tree.

So after a lunch filled with you all but drooling over her and a couple of hours afterwards daydreaming about her and her stupid sexy legs and hands and face…where were you again? You finally decided to say fuck it and made your way to her office in record time. Vlad and his lessons could wait, you had a far more important task to do.

You entered her office quietly, not wanting to disturb her if she was in a meeting. The sight that greeted you made you actually choke on air. There she was sitting at her desk as usual. But she had discarded her blazer on the back of her chair and rolled up the sleeves of her sweater. She was typing furiously on her laptop, as usual, frowning at the screen from behind her glasses.

You locked the door behind you before striding purposefully over to her desk. By the time she glanced up at you, you were already rounding her desk to get to her.

“Darling? Is everything alri-oh!” She yelps as you pull her up from her chair into your arms.

You press a kiss to her very gorgeous lips and reach around her to shut her laptop and move it aside. You lift her up onto her desk, not once removing your mouth from hers. She lets out the cutest noise at that, hands moving to clutch your shoulders before she tangles them in your hair, tugging on it slightly. You groan into her mouth, teeth scraping against her lip. The room feels impossibly hot and she is wearing far too many clothes. As much as you like her pants they need to come off. Now.

Your hands make their way down her body, slipping under her sweater to caress the skin of her stomach. You preen at the hum she lets out, your hands becoming more daring. Your fingers slip under her bra, trailing gently over the underside of her breasts. She gasps, her mouth disconnecting from yours when your thumbs brush over her nipples.

You press kisses to her neck as you do your best to unclasp her bra. It does take a fair bit of fumbling and a few curses muttered to get there. Larissa lets out a breathy chuckle as she scratches the back of your neck. When you finally manage to get rid of the offending item you make quick work of removing it along with her sweater.

You press your lips to her collarbone, nipping at the soft skin just above her breasts. Her grip on your hair tightens, her hands attempting to move your attention where she wants it. Instead of giving her what she wants you graze your teeth along to underside of her breast, grinning at the way her breath stutters.

You decide your desire to tease her is not as strong as your need to please her and take one of her nipples into your mouth, lathing your tongue over it. The strangled moan she lets out makes your heart skip a beat. You nip at the pert bud, your other hand groping at her free breast. She lets out the most sinful sounds, your whole body heating more and more with each one.

Your hands travel down to the waistband of her pants, fingers quickly undoing the button and unzipping the zipper. You pull them and her panties down her legs after she lifts herself off the desk for a moment. She starts tugging on the hem of your shirt, trying to get you to take it off. You pull back from kissing her chest and take her hands in yours, moving them back to sit on the desk.

“Nu-uh honey, tonight I’m in charge,” you hum, delighting in the way her whole face turns red.

“So you just keep those lovely hands of yours right here. Can you do that for me, my love?”

“I- yes. Yes,” She breathes.

“Good girl,” you purr.

You get down on your knees, looping your arms under her thighs. You pepper kisses from her knee to the top of her thigh, stopping just before her soaking cunt. You repeat the action on the other side before gently pulling her thighs apart. You take in the sight of her glistening folds, feeling your mouth water at the sight.

“Is this all for me Rissa?”

“Mmm, only for you baby…” she moans.

You press one final kiss to the inside of her thigh before licking at her cunt. You lap at her slit, moaning at the taste of her. You’re certain this is what heaven is like, the way she tastes like the sweetest ambrosia.

You eat her out as though you were starved. You alternate between flicking your tongue over her clit and lapping at her entrance. Her moans and whimpers are like music to your ears, the sexiest symphony you’ve ever heard.

“Oh fuck, darling. Please-I’m-I’m so close-“ she pants.

You feel her thighs begin to tremble on either side of your head. She lets out a string of curses interspersed with cries of your name. You double your efforts, hands pinning her to her desk as she bucks and writhes.

“Fuck!” She cries.

Her back arches as she throws her head back, letting out a choked moan. Her whole body stiffens, thighs clamping shut around your head. You keep licking and sucking at her clit, only stopping when she gently pushes you away. You press one last kiss to her inner thigh before standing and wrapping your arms around her waist.

She truly looks ethereal in this moment. She’s leaning back on her hands, chest heaving and flushed. Her eyes are closed, breath coming out of her lips in pants. She’s glowing in the low light of her office. Her hair is slightly mussed, falling out of her elegant hairstyle in places.

You cup her cheek, heart-melting when she nuzzles into your hand and presses a kiss to your palm. You almost want to cry, luckily you don’t. You lean forward and press a kiss to her forehead, hearing her hum happily in response. You bury your face in her neck, enjoying having her in your arms.

“Darling,” she sighs happily, “not to sound ungrateful because that was truly wonderful, but what on earth brought this on?”

“Pants.” You mumble into her neck.

“Pardon?”

You lean back, idly tracing shapes into her collarbone. “You were uhm, you wore pants today. You don’t often you know wear ‘em. And you just. I mean you have such gorgeous legs and the most earth-shatteringly sexy ass I’ve ever seen-“

She bursts into laughter at your admission, cheeks flushing.

“It’s true!! You have no idea how hot you are Rissa. Like…I don’t know how I get anything done when you’re here looking like you stepped out of heaven every single day.”

“But the pants do something for you hm?” She chuckles.

“Mmm, they just tipped the scales of my already incredibly inappropriate thoughts about you,” you grin.

“Well, darling,” she purrs, slipping off her desk and sauntering in the direction of her bedroom while pulling you along, “I hope you had no intentions of returning to your rooms tonight.”

You stare far too shamelessly at her ass as she drags you into her room. You were so focused on watching her that when she spins you around and all but pushes you onto the bed, you can only stare up at her, eyes wide and incredibly turned on.

She straddles your waist, smirking down at you in a way that makes heat pool between your thighs. She slips her hands beneath your shirt, leaning down to hover close enough to your face that you can feel her breath on your lips.

“Now then,” she hums, “let’s get you out of these clothes hm? The evenings only just started, and I’m nowhere near done with you.”

[ficthots]

2F

A/N: Josh is an annoying neighbor. Come on, we all know it's true. This is what it would be like to be his neighbor. If you're lucky. As always let me know what you guys think and enjoy!

Warnings: SMUT. DNI if you are under 18. 18+ content only

Word Count: 8.2K+

Manors. You are taught them from an early age and if you are a gracious person, they stick with you throughout your adult life. Most people with common decency and respect for others can even mutter out a please and thank you on their worst days. These small things are ingrained in you from such earlier times that they truly become second nature at some point, simply transforming you into being a good person. 

The bigger person. A phrase you had heard since your mother first said it to you when you got in an argument with a school friend about them taking your Lincoln Logs without asking. Your mom had sat you down once you had gotten home from school that day and said while she understood how upsetting it could be, that you needed to try and see it from their point of view. Perhaps they didn’t realize you were using them or they thought you were done. Go back to school tomorrow, be the bigger person, and forgive them.

That mentality had followed you through life thereafter. You reconciled with your friend and were now able to apply that mentality to many petty disputes from then on out. However, being the bigger person is not always the best option. 

Take for example, your incredibly shitty neighbor that lives directly across the hall from you. That prick of a human being did not have a sensible or courteous bone in his body. It has been going on for months now. The incessant throb of a bass that jolts your walls and nearly knocks your favorite mugs from your shelves. A screeching of a voice that you cannot make out the words they are attempting to belt out, only offering a migraine. Starting near eight or nine every night and going well past midnight. 

After bitching to your mom on the phone for the millionth time, she suggested approaching them as kindly as possible. Let them know they are kind of disturbing the peace and move forward. The thought of crossing the hall and actually speaking to them for the first time ever had you on edge. 

You were going to try the friendly approach. Being a non confrontational person meant slipping an anonymous note under their door, a nice message and asking to keep it down attached to it. It did not work. A small bout of hopefulness spread through you as the music came to a halt that evening, letting the blood rushing in your ear to cease for only a blissful minute before starting right back up.

Being the bigger person. You had tried that. Attempting to see it from their point of view. There is a chance they did not realize how loud they were actually being. Offering a peaceful chance for them to quiet down, letting their neighbors think again. That was the entire purpose of the note. No embarrassing or awkward conversations between strangers. You truly thought it would work and they would realize their actions were actually quite rude and attempt to be a better neighbor.

Nope. Nada. Zilch. 

Whoever they were picked it right back up. A small, frustrated yelp left your throat. You were shocked that they had so blatantly ignored the pleas from their desperate neighbors. Was it too much to ask that after a long day at work to come home, watch trashy television, or simply read a book in quiet solace? No, it was not. 

And whoever was living across the hall was fucking that up. You didn’t even know their name. Only knowing them by the marking next to their door. 2F. You had never even seen them either, working opposite schedules obviously. Sometimes it seemed like they were gone sporadically for weeks at a time, signaling their arrival once again by the vibrating floors. 

You had reached a breaking point one night. What had been occasional night time music thundering in the building had seemingly turned into a near twenty-four seven parade. You attempted to ignore it to the best of your ability, even making yourself a nice cocktail after a rough day at work. 

It felt like you couldn’t escape it. Far too chilly to enjoy your patio, you wandered through the rooms of your apartment, trying to find any break you could from the incessant noise that seemed to follow you like a shadow of death. 

They had been home for weeks now, more than likely unemployed you assumed by the constant, never ending noise streaming from their home to yours. At first it had been the same as it normally was, annoying, but at least you were used to it. Until you woke up one morning to it. After that, it seemed to never stop. 

This particularly shitty day had you on edge, wanting to come home and soak in the tub, read a smutty novel about a mafia boss forcing an arranged marriage, and then fall asleep a tad bit tipsy. You were already working on the latter of your wants, second mixed drink in your hand and nearing its end. 

It was a Friday afterall. 

Your plans had come to a screeching halt when you arrived home and you could literally see their door slightly shaking. “Be the bigger person,” you whispered out, hand clutching your door knob and entering your own apartment. You tried. Truly you did.

As you had called it quits on the alcohol for the evening you knew you needed to get some food in your system or it was going to become a sloppy night. You made dinner, sat down to enjoy it, trying your hardest to tune out the high pitched wailing crossing the hall that was forcing its way into your space.

But when you missed what one housewife had said to another during a heated argument in Bali you had reached your limit. Feeling more confident with the liquor still in your system, you were nervous to approach them, but it needed to be done. It was time to teach the douchebag some manners.

Slamming your bowl down on your coffee table, standing from your sofa, and walking across the small hall to their front door, your fist connected with the wood, pounding on it repeatedly until the mystery person opened it. 

A curly, almost mohawk of a style sat atop his head. Some sort of beads swayed with his movement, moving across his bare chest, sweats hung low on his hips, his bare feet crossed as he leaned on the door. A large smile greeting you displaying the complete opposite emotion you were currently feeling. “Hi there!” He spoke loudly, excited and eager to speak to you. 

“Do you understand how loud you are? It has been months of listening to this every single-” you were nervous, trying to get your trembling hands to stop the shake, but he cut you off as you started your tirade. “You’re the note!” His smile somehow grew bigger, reaching behind him and grabbing the piece of paper from what you assumed was an entryway table behind the door. 

You nodded, starting back up, irritated that he had interrupted you whilst speaking. How incredibly rude. This kid seriously had no idea what manners were.“Yes and I tried being nice about it, but you obviously don’t seem to comprehend that you live in an apartment meaning you share walls-,” his eyebrows furrowed at your wording, the tip of his tongue poking out from behind his teeth. 

“We don’t share walls.” He had cut you off. Again. Your nostrils flared slightly at that, using that observation as your point of reference. “Exactly. We don’t share walls and yet mine are vibrating every day because of your music that you’re blasting. You can’t even pause it for a conversation!” A laugh escaped you at the end, arms crossing in disbelief at this guy. 

He rolled his eyes, smile never leaving his features as he grabbed his phone and hit pause. You took in a deep breath, already feeling the tension releasing. “It’s late, I got home from a crappy day at work, all I want to do is get some sleep and I cannot do that with you blasting whatever it is you listen to. Honestly, it sounds like the same song over and over which I mean power to you if that’s what you like to do, but please, just turn it down.” He hummed at your response, opening his notes app as you spoke. 

“Sounds the same,” he mumbled, typing that into the note. His eyes darted up to meet yours after he slipped his phone back in his pocket. “Did you say you were going to bed? It’s 9:30, grandma.” You gasped in surprise at his harsh judgment. “Listen,” he leaned to the side to see around you and squinted his eyes, “3F. You seem to be the only person that has a problem with this. I actually share walls with 1F there and they have never complained. Seems to be a you problem,” your jaw hung slack at his words. 

You narrowed your eyes to slits as you stared at him. “Just keep it down, asshole.” His eyes went wider, a scoff of a laugh billowing from his lips. “Ouch, 3F. That wasn’t very nice.” You turned on your heels, entering your apartment and slamming the door behind you. 

The music started right back up. The same song on repeat for the remainder of the night. You weren’t sure when it ended, deciding to sleep with your duvet entirely covering your head, but you knew it carried on late. You could tell by the endless tossing and turning all night. When you looked in the mirror the next morning, the deep bags that sat under your eyes confirmed it. 

You hated him.

Sitting at a dimly lit table in a dimly lit restaurant with your best friend meant you were struggling to view the menu. She grabbed it from your hands, putting them on the table and smiled at you. “Don’t worry, I know what we’re ordering.” As she quickly spewed your order to the server, you sat enjoying the low chatter and jazz music that flowed through the room. 

See, this was a respectable level of volume. 2F should take notes. Your eyes darted open as she slapped her hands on the table top. “What’s up with you? You look exhausted,” she sipped from her cocktail as she eyed you. “Wow, thank you, that’s exactly what I needed to hear today,” you rolled your eyes, grabbing a piece of bread and tearing it apart, stuffing it into your mouth. 

Her laugh echoed in the space, kicking you lightly under the table. “You know what I mean! Seriously, what’s up?” You sighed, leaning back in your chair as you chewed. “My shitty neighbor won’t stop playing his shitty music through all hours of the night. Last night was the second week in a row of it.” She nodded in response, checking her phone as she intently listened to you. 

Ha ha. 

“Report him. It’s a lease violation. Email your property manager and it’ll stop literally that day. Look at Shelby, can you believe she’s pregnant?” She leaned across the table, shoving her phone in your face, but all you could think of was how great of an idea it was. 

As she spent the rest of her evening gossiping with you hardly contributing to the conversation, you drafted out an incredibly detailed email to send to your property manager. 2F was going to shut the fuck up. He was going to be told to. By someone other than you. 

You sent the email the next morning, listing all of the hours that the music had been playing and how incredibly disruptive it was even after you had asked him to keep it down. You received a response within an hour saying that they were going to handle it. 

Entirely unsure how long you had been perched on a barstool next to your front door, offering a great view of your peephole, you felt giddy. Were you waiting to see if he was going to be getting the violation? Absolutely, and you were doing so with a drink in your hand, occasionally peeking into the hallway to see if it was happening yet. 

When your property manager appeared, you scooted the chair away from the door, too excited to sit, instead standing with either hand on the door, eye glued to the small view of the scene playing out in front of you. 

Watching through your peephole you sensed victory as a lease violation was, in fact, handed off to him. You cheered, a tad bit too loud, because once the noise escaped you, his eyes darted across the hall setting sights on your door. 

Your hand clamped down on your mouth, cursing yourself for being so stupid. When he knocked, your eyes went wide. Pretend you’re not home, you thought to yourself. “3F, I know you’re home. I literally just heard you,” your eyes squeezed shut, muttering a silent fuck. 

Opening the door, his fuming gaze met yours. “Hi, happy hump day to you. What can I do for you?” You gave a large smile, happy to finally feel in control of the situation as he held up the paper. 

“A lease violation. Seriously? You know this is a $145 fine, right?” You shrugged, acting as uninterested as possible, motioning your head down the hall to the other lone door on this hallway. “Don’t know. Maybe 1F got tired of it. Anyways, not my problem, but you have a great night.” A look skirted across his face that said do you really think I’m buying that before he spoke up, again.

“You know if you had asked nicely I would have gladly been more accommodating-” you cut him off, holding a hand up as you did. “Oh, I did! You chose to ignore it!” He shook his head, a small chuckle falling from him. “No, you did not. Slipping an anonymous note under my door, demanding that I be more quiet is not a friendly way of handling the situation.” 

You stood staring at him in astonishment. That’s not what you had done. The note was very well thought out and precise in how you worded your request. Did you include the specific rule from the lease? Sure, but how else was he supposed to know it was against the rules? 

He started back up, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “So, now you’ve asked for it.” Your brows drew together, scoffing in response. “Look dude, all I want is to come home and relax after a day of work. You ruin that,” he shrugged at your words. “And that noise is my work.” 

You couldn’t contain the gut punching laugh that fell from you at the absurd claim. “You’re telling me that being loud is your job?” He nodded his head, bottom lip lightly pushing out as he did. “You haven’t even asked my name 3F,” your arms crossed over your chest. “Because I’m not interested in knowing it. 2F suffices.”

His head slightly tilted at you, emotions displaying as he thought. It was like he was trying to figure you out. More than likely trying to figure out all the possible ways to piss you off. “Well, I would like to know yours.” You shake your head, deciding to end this conversation, stepping back into your home and closing the door with a no thanks being offered to him in return. 

2F had said now you’ve asked for it. What the hell did he mean by that? That’s what all of your thoughts had been about since you had closed the door in his face. It had been a little over a week since that day and despite the normal abhorrent noise, nothing else had happened.

Until you received a knock on your door.

Confused because you weren’t expecting anyone, you opened the door, a large smile gracing your face as you saw your property manager there, he offered a sad smile as he took you in. “Hi, Mr. Jameson! How’re you?” He sighed, a folded paper in his hands as he looked at his shoes. 

“Great and I’m sorry to be doing this, but I have to give you this and advise you to heed it well.” Your face must have displayed how muddled you were feeling because he sighed again, turning and walking down the hall. 

You opened it right there, crumpling it in your hand and storming across the hall, banging on his door as you did. When he pulled it open, his head had a tilt and a smirk on his stupid smug face. “3F! What brings you to my neck of the woods this fine evening?” You shoved the paper in his face, knowing he couldn’t read it because of the state it was in and the close location to his face, but you didn’t care.

“Disorderly conduct of a neighbor! Are you joking? This is literally what you do every single day,” he tsked at you, pulling his phone from his pocket as he did. “No, that’s what you do. According to the lease you are not to pester and harass your neighbors which,” he looked back up at you from his screen, “is exactly what you’re doing right now.”

You huffed, feeling anger coursing through your veins as you stared at the devilish little man. “I am not harassing you!” He sighed, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossing over his chest as he did. “I mean, you are. The note, the first interaction, storming over here and pounding on my door, that’s harassment 3F.” 

He couldn’t contain the laughter being held in his throat as he saw how irritated and befuddled you were. “You are such a dick.” You mumbled out, going back to your own apartment. Not only had he cost you your sanity, but actual money. Paper currency. He wasn’t going to get away with this. 

Absolutely not. For the next two weeks the noise never ceased. You kept your distance though, not particularly fond of getting another lease violation charge added to your account. Instead, you took another route. 

Being the bigger person, of course. You frosted the last cupcake, smiling at how uniform they all appeared. It was your olive branch. You were known for your baking, every holiday season you were asked to bring some form of baked goods. It was relaxing and a sort of therapy to you. 

As you knocked on the door, it opened with a woosh of air and you offered a kind smile to him. The kindest one you had yet. The tray was balanced on both your hands, a dozen cupcakes sat on it, and you could see he was taken aback by the offering. 

“Look, I apologize. I am the type of person who prefers ambiance and low volume noise compared to blasting whatever it is you play. Everyone has their preferences, I get it. Here is my peace offering.” You handed the tray over to him, pointing to one that sat in the middle. 

“Eat that one first, it’s my special recipe that everyone raves about. I don’t make it for just anyone so enjoy it.” He was dumbfounded, standing there holding the tray, speechless for the first time since you had met him. “Thank you!” He called out as you shut the door behind you.

The son of a bitch didn’t even attempt to apologize. Instead, he just took the damn cupcakes without even so much as the beginning of an apology. That’s why you didn’t feel bad. Not in the slightest. 

When he appeared at your door the next morning as you were leaving for work, you were surprised to see him up. Well, not that surprising. “You fucking poisoned me!”  You rolled your eyes, locking your door and adjusting the bag on your shoulder. 

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic. It was a little miralax in the one singular cupcake,” you checked the watch on your wrist and began walking down the hallway, calling out to him as you did. “Oops, I’m going to be late and I wouldn’t want to harass you anymore. Have a good one, 2F!” A cackle bounced off the walls as he groaned, running back into his apartment as you sauntered off. 

Okay, maybe you did feel bad. In your defense, the jackass deserved it. He couldn’t be nice to his neighbors despite their numerous attempts so you had to do what you had to do. Should you have put a laxative in the cupcake? Debatable. 

But you couldn’t spend a lot of time dwelling on it. You did what you did and screw being the bigger person. Not with him at least. You were a good person. A kind person. He just seemingly brought out the worst in you for some reason. 

All you wanted to do was slap that stupid smug look off his face that always seemed to be there. Expressing your anger in the form of violence sounded especially intriguing on a Sunday evening as you heard the remnants of a party happening across the hall. You were snuggled into bed, ready to call it for the night when you realized that it wasn’t just the normal throbbing of music he offered, but a plethora of voices shouting as well.

You honestly could have burst into tears on the spot. You had work early in the morning, not wanting to deal with the shit storm that this work week was going to be offering you, and he was over there being the most assholey asshole that you had ever encountered. 

Remembering your christmas gift from your best friend had been a state of the art pair of noise canceling headphones meant you were running to put them on and they had been your savor that night. Uncomfortable to sleep with, of course, but at least you could sleep. 

The work day was exactly what you had been expecting. Wanting nothing more than to come home and spend the evening trying to destress was halted as you rounded the corner for your door.

Bile rose in your throat as you approached your front door. Your hand went over your mouth, the stench of garbage flowing from the hall. A tremor appeared in your hand as anger surged in you, never having felt such animosity before in your life. Both of your fists pounded on his doors until he appeared, extremely hungover, but munching on an apple like he didn’t have a care in the world at the moment.

You pointed to the piles of trash that sat blocking your door, a fire dancing in your eyes as you stared at him, speaking through clenched teeth. “Get your fucking garbage off of my door. Now,” he looked around you, seeing the piles of trash and shrugged.

“Not my trash, 3F.” You didn’t have the energy for these games tonight. “Move your fucking trash. I know it’s yours. I know you had a fucking party on a goddamn Sunday. It is yours. Move it.” He was entirely unfazed, shaking his head as he took the last bite of his apple. 

“Like I said. Not my trash. Have a good night,” your mouth hung open as you watched him toss the apple core onto the bags of trash sitting at your doorstep. It took you almost an hour to get all of the tash bags moved to the trash shoot. 

After that night, you didn’t retaliate. He carried on in his normal irritating ways, but you couldn’t bring it in yourself to care. The headphones constantly rested on your scalp now, never leaving anymore. You connected the television to them, played your own enjoyable music, or just sat in the quiet. They were an actual god send. 

Work had been driving you up the wall, no problems could seemingly be handled without you and it was driving you mad. You enjoyed being good at your job, knowing you were succeeding and that people turned to you for answers to issues and questions was rewarding, but it seemed now that it was more about everyone turning to you for any little thing they could.

It’s why your best friend suggested going out one night to relieve the stress and tension from the work week. You jumped at the opportunity, going to your favorite bar and wanting to enjoy spending some time out and about, allowing yourself to think about anything other than the two most annoying things in your life right now.

Work and 2F.

You were standing at the bar, ready to order your first of what would be many drinks for the evening when you heard it. His voice. He had saddled up beside you, eliciting a groan to fall from your lips. “If it isn’t my favorite neighbor! What brings you out? I thought you hated enjoying things? It’s quite loud in here, are you going to report it?” You rolled your eyes, opting to ignore him and catch the attention of the bartender. 

“Two Moscow Mules!” You shouted out, seeing him nod as you went to hand over your card, 2F spoke up. “Put all her and her friends drinks on my tab. Thanks, bud!” You shot daggers at him, shaking your head and going to hand the card over anyways. 

“Absolutely not! Here’s my card,” his hand came over yours, pushing your hand back, a large smile taking over his features. “I insist! Especially after that hefty lease violation fine. It’s on me!” He turned and walked away towards his own group as you were handed your two drinks, fuming as you walked back towards her. 

She giggled, nudging her head in the direction he had gone in. “Who the hell was that? He’s fucking hot! I hope you keep tabs on him for the night,” you let a forced shiver roll down your spine, gagging as she spoke. “That’s my fucking neighbor from hell! The little goblin put our drinks on his tab. How stupid is that shit?” 

She choked on her drink, coughing as she laughed. “No fucking shit! Oh my god I had no idea he looked like that. If he were my neighbor he would be making all the noise he wanted to. Particularly at my place. In my bed! And I think he has the same idea because he bought your drinks,” she batted her eyelashes at you as she sipped her drink again. You waved her off, downing your drink.

“You’re disgusting! We’re not like that. At all!” She shrugged pointing in his direction. “Oh really? Then why is he staring at you like he wants to take you into the dingiest bathroom he can find and rail you?” Your face burned at her words, letting your eyes glance in the direction he was in and noticing his eyes locked on you. 

You set your drink down, moving back towards the bar once you noticed that his attention was back on his group, back turned towards you. Getting the bartender's attention you leaned over and handed him your card. “That guy over there? Put his drinks and his group drinks on this card, don’t charge his card,” he nodded his head, taking the card and taking another drink order for you. 

Sporadically throughout the night, you could feel eyes on you. You knew exactly who it was. Why he couldn’t keep his own attention on his own group instead of eyeing you all night, you had no idea, but it was starting to get beyond annoying. He had, quite literally, the largest eyes you had ever seen so it wasn’t like he could hide where he was looking. Not like he was trying to either. 

The night had been fun apart from your own personal stalker. Many laughs were shared between friends, one drink too many, but as the night wound down and you went to collect your card, the bartender assured you that 2F’s tab had been charged to your card. With your friend having slipped out a bit ago, you sat on a stool at one end of the bar, watching as 2F’s group left, having him head to the bar and collect his card.

You laughed seeing his face show one of confusion after being told his tab had been taken care of for the night. You watched as he mouthed who and as the bartender pointed at you, his head whipped towards your direction. You gave a wave, hopping from your stool and leaving the bar. 

When you got home, you fumbled with your keys as you tried to unlock your door. “3F!” You sighed, turning in defeat as you heard his voice echo in the hallway. “Yes, 2F?” He walked towards you, hands in his jacket pockets as he stood in front of you. His hand came from the pocket and your eyes went wide as you saw the amount of money he placed in your hand. 

You shook your head, trying to shove it back in his own hand. “That’s for picking up my tab at the bar, your tab at the bar, a cleaning service to come and clean your apartment for me placing the trash bags at your door, and for the lease violation.” Your jaw hung slack, not able to formulate any words, eyes looking up to meet his and see the soft gaze that sat on his face. 

“Oh my god, no. I can’t accept this. Take it, 2F.” He shook his head, putting his hands back in his pockets. A small laugh fell from his lips as he eyed you. “Josh. My name is Josh,” shaking your head, your eyes shut, an exasperated breath leaving you. 

“I don’t want your money, Josh. That is absolutely the last thing I want or need from you,” he took a step back as you tried to shove it at him. Your jaw set, irritation bubbling in your system at how stupid he was being. In what world would you just accept a huge chunk of cash like this? There wasn’t a world where it would happen. You wouldn’t. 

Instead you stepped around him with a shrug, hearing his laugh as you crouched down. “What are you doing?” One by one you slipped the bills under his door. “I told you I’m not taking your money.” You could hear the frustrated intake of breath as you continued with your task, not noticing when he stood to the side of you, unlocking his door and opening it.

Your neck fell back to peer up at him with a scowl on your face. You weren’t even halfway through with the stack of money. Reaching your arm up and forward, you hand grabbed onto the cool metal of the door handle and yanked it towards you, shutting the door as you two stared at one another. 

Letting your head fall back so your eyes could once again focus on the task you were trying to work on, you heard him let out a shaky laugh. “You are so fucking stubborn,” you only mumbled out a response, almost done with the cash when he crouched down to your level, locking your eyes to his. 

When you turned your head to face him, your noses nearly brushed against one another with how close he was to you. The smell of tequila was on his breath, you were sure yours had faint notes of vodka and ginger beer, but you were rooted to your spot. Not necessarily making any move to lean away from him or go further towards the man. 

His dark brown eyes had an almost ombre effect, you noted. Unlike most people who had the lighter hue near their iris, the eye growing darker the closer to the edge you got, his did the opposite. They were so dark near his iris that the chocolate practically melted into it. The outer color only got slightly warmer, only noticeable from this closeness. You could get lost in them for hours if you had the time to. Prick. 

The cupid's bow of his lips were not sharp, rather they rounded off at the top peaks, only marginally dipping down to give the plush skin a break. One thing you had taken into account upon the many interactions you had with him was that they were never chapped. Quite the opposite. Always glistening like he had just swiped his pink tongue along them. The picturesque teeth that you could have sworn were veneers from farther away, but upon closer inspection were his actual chompers. Bastard. 

A perfect nose. You were envious of it. What man needed a nose like that? Entirely unfair, you noted to yourself. He had some of the unruliest eyebrows you had ever laid your eyes on, but for some reason it worked. The unkempt hair paired well with the faux curls that were always a permed out mess. Why did you like it so much then? Asshole. 

While you took stock of who was taking up your personal space, he was doing the same. Reveling in the closeness to you. How your kneecap would knock against his every few moments, the hollowed out divet in the base of your neck as you took in stabilizing breaths, the flutter of your eyelids as you were attempting to process the situation you two were in. 

Josh took the opportunity that was being presented to him on a silver platter, knowing there was not going to be a better chance than now to act on this. The feeling of enamorment he had been reeling in since he had first set his eyes on you all those months ago. Trying to decide how to approach you, but when you approached him he was elated. Until the ridiculous feud began between you two. 

He was going to bridge the gap. Leaning forward and capturing your lips with his, hand cradling the soft skin of your jaw, lightly pulling you closer to him. You didn’t fight it. Not in the slightest. Instead, savoring it. How the feeling of him moving against you seemed to set you alight. Tingling from either the amount of time you had been crouched down or the nerves erupting in you with joy. Excitement. Yearning. 

You moved to deepen this. Letting your mouth fall open in greeting to him to explore you, learn you, relish you. When the tip of his tongue accosted yours, the noise that ruptured from within you was a mixture of a sigh and moan, feeling the heavenly encounter for the first time was unlike anything you had ever experienced before in your life. If you could have it bottled up to revisit whenever you wanted to or needed to, you would. 

2F took it as a welcoming invitation to continue on. A sense of relief washed over him, knowing you were indulging in this, accepting this, trembling for this just as much as he was. He wanted to chase you back to him when you retreated, breath stuttering in your throat, almost pained to come to a stop, even if just for a second. 

Your eyes opened, meeting his and you stood, taking his hand with yours and moving back towards your door, silently asking him to come with you. He followed instantaneously, swallowing thickly as you turned to open the door and lead him into your home. The sanctuary he had been destroying for months.

His hands found home on your waist, tilting your head to the side as he pressed himself against your back, the warmth of his breath fanned across the skin causing goosebumps to erupt all over your body. He wasn’t rushing, skilled hands knowing exactly what to do despite the slight tremor giving away the nerves that played at him despite his calm demeanor. 

As his mouth worked your pulse point, your hands sat on his, lightly squeezing as your breathing grew deeper. Uneven. Josh turned you around in his grasp, you wasted no time, letting your fingers card through his hair as his arms encircled you. 

His scent was intoxicating, something that made your head swim and cloud over with pure arousal. The feel of his facial hair running along your smooth skin had you pining. Your tongues danced in a rehearsed manner despite never having mingled before, but it felt known. Comfortable. Soothing. 

Despite your pleas and desperate noises, Josh pulled away from you. His hands moved to cup your cheeks, forcing your eyes to meet. “I’m not going to fuck you without knowing your name.” You swallowed slowly, his thumb skirting across your lower lip as you whispered it out.

He repeated it, eyes shut as he let it settle. You had never felt more one way than the other about your name, but as soon as it was graced from leaving his lips, you never wanted to hear another person say it again unless it was coming from him. 

Josh’s hands had lost their unsure hesitancy, moving to the underside of your shirt with poise and steadiness. His fingertips gripped and removed it, letting you two reconnect once more, not wanting to lose the contact again.

The pure temperature of his body was setting you on fire, your skins nearly sizzling as they pressed against each other. As Josh made his ascent from your mouth towards your chest, leaving peppered kisses along the way, your mind was reeling.

Unable to form coherent thoughts, any chance of intelligent sentences thrown out the window as he took a perched nipple into his mouth, sucking and nipping at the perked bud. 

Your breath caught in your throat, back arching into his chest. A smile played at his occupied lips, his free hand traveling from the curve of your waist to your abandoned breast. As his teeth held your nipple, his fingers twisted the other, eliciting strong moans to release from the confines of you.

When he switched, he didn’t give you even a nanosecond to catch your breath, continuing his motions. “Pl-please, Josh.” His doe eyes peered up at you, hooded with lust and a fire burning in them as he heard you moan his name for the first time. 

“What, baby? What do you need me to do?” Instinctively, your legs widened further, the small cloth covering your core dampened beyond belief, signaling your need for him. Wanting nothing more than for him to touch you. 

He shook his head, grabbing your chin in between his fingers, making you look at him. His voice was deeper, a gravelly tone accompanying it. “I need to hear your words, sweet girl.” 

Your head fell back, arms crossing over your face as you decided how bluntly you wanted to put this. Deciding you simply did not care, you groaned out, “Touch me, use me, demolish me. I don’t care, just please, fuck me, Josh.” 

Those seemed to be the magic words because in the blink of an eye your panties were gone, lost in the heap of discarded clothes, and your core felt his cold hands. 

Gasping, eyes shooting open to watch this happen, his fingertips moved your lips. The sticky signs of your excitement stretched as he lightly traced his hands around you. “God, look at you. You’re a fucking mess,” his words came out under his breath and his thumb slipped in the slick, gathering it and bringing it to his lips. 

As he sucked the digit into his mouth, your jaw slightly fell open. Watching Josh do this, act like this was mesmerizing. It was an entirely new side to him and it made you desperate for him. 

Josh moved behind you, letting your confusion become evident as he smiled. He leaned back against your headboard, pulling you to lay in between his legs. As your back met his chest, your head against his shoulder and neck, his cheek against your forehead, you were alight in anticipation.

“Relax, sweet girl. I’m gonna take care of you,” his legs hooked around your own, forcing them to remain open. His fingers reached down, collecting your wetness once again, bringing it to his mouth. “I will never get tired of that taste.”

Too entranced in the display of him, you didn’t notice when his hand had disappeared down again, but when you felt his thumb press against your clit, a small, surprised yelp left you. A permanent smirk was on his lips, memorizing your reactions and movements for the first time.

Given how thoroughly soaked you were, when Josh’s middle finger slipped into your entrance it was met with no resistance. It offered a sense of relief, not near enough to satisfy the craving you were begging for. 

Slowly moving his finger in and out, hearing the mess you were making on his finger, he quickly added another. As soon as the other entered you, he picked up his pace. Incoherent mumbling and moans tumbled from your lips as you felt yourself growing closer and closer to your release.

Josh offered words of praise as a silent scream escaped you, white light clogging your vision. You were contracting around his fingers, not wanting him to remove them, but it wasn’t enough. 

You were incredibly needy for more. Turning around in his grasp, your hands landed on either of his thighs. Reaching your hand out, you cupped his stiff cock, gently squeezing, and pulling his head towards yours. 

The sensation of his lips finding yours once again was palpable relief. You straddled him, having him remain where he originally was. The head of his cock rubbed against your slit, whimpers falling from both of your lips. 

Letting yourself sink down onto him, your eyes remained shut, head falling back as you took him all. Josh’s arms closed around you, crushing you to his chest. Slowly starting to move, the stretched sensation began to subside, immense pleasure taking over. 

His thrusts met your moves, both of you crying into the other's mouth, against their sweat covered skin, becoming one with each other. He alternated between leaving searing marks on your chest or neck, capturing your mouth, or uttering filthy words of encouragement. 

The two of you were close to your finishes, chasing your highs, your hands tangled in his locks and pulling as you felt it crash into you at a blinding pace. Gasping for breath, his cum leaking out of you and back onto his still hard shaft, you two leisurely came down from your highs.

You didn’t make a move first, letting Josh kiss all over your skin, licking the sweat away that poured from you both. Your eyes didn’t want to open, too heavy with exhaustion to even try. He moved you off of his lap, wiping you clean with a towel, and kissing your forehead as you felt asleep. 

When he left that night, you weren’t entirely sure what the next move was. Were things different? Absolutely. Was he still the prick that had been purposely fucking your life over for the last few months? Undoubtedly. Was he so attractive that your mouth went dry when you replayed certain aspects from the night before over in your mind? Unfortunately. 

The actual peace offering. The real olive branch. The non-poisonous ones that is. They were sitting on a tray, perfectly frosted, sitting in the shape of a large smiley face. Now, there could be the possibility that just the sight of cupcakes could cause a visceral reaction, but you were going to take your bets. 

Until the music started up. 

Your head snapped up and in the direction of his apartment. Wide eyes, jaw set, and shoulders tensing at the unbelievably loud music. It didn’t even sound like the normal noise, instead like there was a concert happening a mere fifteen feet away from you. 

Closing your eyes and forcing yourself to take a deep breath, you crossed the hall, tray in hand as you knocked on his door. There wasn’t an answer at first, so you knocked again, hearing a slew of voices on the other side of the wood. Maybe now wasn’t the time to do this if he had people over. 

When he didn’t answer on the second knock you quickly turned, feeling your face warm in embarrassment. His door flew open, your name escaping his lips to get your attention. You cursed to yourself, turning back around and offering a sheepish smile. His grew exponentially when he saw what you had in hand. 

You thrusted the tray towards him, trying not to peer behind him and see an audience watching this exchange. “For you. An actual I’m sorry for everything. Not spiked, promise,” you laughed at the end, doing the scouts honor salute. Before he could respond, someone who looked just like him appeared at the door.

The man’s eyes widened, a large beaming grin plastering on his features. “Oh my god, are you 3F?” A surprised expression took over your features, eyes darting between the two of them. Why did this stranger know who you were? Another figure appeared with the pair, startling you as he seemed to appear from thin air. He looked like the two, but stood a few inches taller than them.

“No way, 3F? We have heard so much about you!” The apples of Josh’s cheeks flushed red as he turned and handed the tray to the taller boy, speaking through clenched teeth as he did. “How about you shut the fuck up and go stuff these in your fat fucking hole, yeah?” You giggled at the exaggerated wink the boy offered him, taking the offering and looking back to you. 

“Well, it was a real pleasure getting to meet you 3F. I do hope my brother has learned your actual name, but he has no game so,” Josh cut him off, shoving him inside and slamming the door behind the laughing pair. 

His hands rubbed over his face, the tips of his ears burning like his face. “I am so sorry about them,” his thumb pointed over his shoulder in the direction where they had gone. You gently nudged him, wanting to egg him on. “Telling people about me, Josh?” 

Watching his eyes go wide and hearing him stutter over his words was far too entertaining. “Oh, no, no. I mean I mentioned some of the stuff to them and look they’re my little brothers so it’s like their thing to make my life as awkward as possible, like you should see some of the band interviews with them doing this shit-” you cut him off, eyebrows furrowing at his words. 

“You’re in a band?” He took in a short breath, head bobbing in response. “Greta Van Fleet. That’s what we’re called. That’s what the noise is that you’ve been subjected to for the last few months. It’s our new album and I get spurts of ideas at random times,” you nodded, finally beginning to understand his point of view. 

You eyed him, arms crossing. “Should’ve told me that. Maybe this all could have been avoided.” It was time. Time to be the bigger person.

Josh stood next to the table, dressed in a suit that perfectly encapsulated the entire being and existence that he is. The microphone in his hand, a glass of champagne in the other, speaking out to the guests in attendance. 

It was his incredibly long winded speech that everyone had been anticipating. The man did not know when to stop talking, but as his tale was about to wrap up, his eyes fell to you, sitting next to him. “Anyways, I’m not entirely sure what that story of Danny, Sam, and the giraffe have to do with this, but-” laughter flowed around the room at his tangent, your eyes filled with love and adoration as he held your gaze, “I am so glad my plan of being a complete neighbor from hell worked because I truly didn’t know how else to talk to you. I saw you when I was moving in and felt like the gods had sent you to change the entire directory of my life. You are my everything, my entire life, and I cannot wait to craft the rest of our story together.” 

You weren’t sure if you should have been happy or down right pissed, but as his co-best men all stood, raising their glasses, you wanted to table it. “To Mr. and Mrs. Kiszka!” The cheers erupted around the room, sipping from your glass and letting your husband lightly peck your lips before taking his seat.

“So your entire plan was being the biggest pain in the ass you could and hoping you would land me that way?” You leaned into his side as he beamed at you, leaning further towards you, lips landing on your cheek. “Yes, and it worked, my darling girl,” you rolled your eyes, downing the rest of your glass as he snickered in your ear, your giggles mixing with his as you watched his twin begin prepping for his turn.

Jake stood dead center of the room, microphone in hand as he began his speech. “Hello all. I want to say a quick congratulations to my brother and his wife. If there’s anything anyones ever been told it’s about being the bigger person. That’s not the case tonight. Joshy boy, strap in.  Now, everyone knows my brother peed the bed until he was eleven years old.” 

[birdship]

This project is unfinished and will remain that way. There are bugs. Not all endings are implemented. The ending tracker doesn't work. Images are broken. Nothing will be fixed. There's still quite a bit of content, though, so I am releasing what's here as is.

Tilted Sands is a project I started back when AI Dungeon first came out--the very early version you had to run in a Google colabs notebook. Sometime in late 2018, I think? I was a contributor at Botnik Studios at the time and I was delighted by AI Dungeon, but I knew it would never be a truly satisfying choose your own adventure generator on its own. I would argue that the modern AI Dungeon 2 and NovelAI don't fully function as such even now. That's not how AI works. It has to be guided heavily, the product has to be sculpted by human hands.

Anyway, it inspired me to use Transformer--a GPT2 predictive text writing tool--to craft a more coherent and polished but still silly and definitely AI-flavored CYOA experience. It was an ambitious project, but I was experienced with writing what I like to call "cyborg" pieces--meaning the finished product is, in a way, made by both an AI/algorithm/other bot AND a human writer. Something strange and wonderful that could not have been made by the bot alone, nor by the human writer alone. Algorithms can surprise us and trigger our creative human minds to move in directions we never would've thought to go in otherwise. To me, that's what actual AI art is: a human engaging in a creative activity like writing in a way that also includes utilizing an algorithm of some sort. The results are always fascinating, strangely insightful, and sometimes beautiful.

I worked on Tilted Sands off-and-on for a couple years, and then the entire AI landscape changed practically overnight with DALL-E and ChatGPT. And I soon realized that I cannot continue working on this project. Mainstream, corporate AI is disgustingly unethical and I don't want the predictive text writing I used to enjoy so much to be associated with "AI art". It's not. Before DALL-E and ChatGPT, there were artists and writers who made art by utilizing algorithms, neural networks, etc. Some things were perhaps in an ethical or legal grey area, but people actually did care about that. I remember discussing "would it be ethical to scrape [x]?" with other writers, and sharing databases of things like commercial advertising scripts and public domain content. I liked using mismatched databases to write things, like a corpus of tech product reviews that I used to write a song. The line between transformative art and fair use vs theft was constantly on all of our minds, because we were artists ourselves.

All of the artists and writers I knew in those days who made "cyborg art" have stopped by now. Including me.

But I poured a lot of love and thought and energy into this silly little project, and the thought of leaving it to rot on my hard drive hurt too much. It's not done, but there's a lot there--over 14,000 words, multiple endings and game over scenarios. I had so much fun with it and I wanted to complete it, but I can't. I don't want it to be associated in any way with the current "AI art" scene. It's not.

Please consider this my love letter to what technology-augmented art used to be, and what AI art could have been.

I know I'm not the only one mourning this brief but intense period from about 2014-2019 in which human creativity and developing AI technology combined organically to create an array of beautiful, stupid, silly, terrible, wonderful works of art. If you're also feeling sad and nostalgic about it, I hope you find this silly game enjoyable even in its unfinished state.

In conclusion:

Fuck capitalism, fuck what is currently called AI art, fuck ChatGPT, fuck every company taking advantage of artists and writers and other creative types by using AI.