#which they probably feel like they can’t do with most other people

[lopsicle]

Arcane season 2 spoilers

/////

I have been thinking A LOT about Jayce and Viktor, mainly the scene where Viktor is reborn out of his pod of Hexcore.

Mainly because it means a lot for Viktor’s character. On a fundamental level, he never seen much worth in himself, but he did see worth in inventions, the things he made, it’s how he could prove himself to the world. This is why he becomes so concerned with his illness and the legacy he’ll leave behind on the world; he needs the Hexcore to work because he doesn’t have anything else.

But now, he is literally fused with his invention, his invention that he has grown to hate because it killed one of the only people who truly saw value in Viktor, and not the things he could, partly due to his own negligence. Viktor put it best, in his pursuit of greatness, he failed to do good.

He doesn’t really know how to process what happened to him at all, he’s a smart man, he can clearly deduce that his body has undergone some cybernetic change, he can probably remember the explosion in the council room, but other then that, he’s just confused, hence why he asks Jayce, “what am I?” Viktor’s body is entirely different and unfamiliar, and taking into context that the Hexcore, his greatest invention which he tied all his worth to, has failed before this, it’s likely Viktor had lost sight of who he was, and his new body only served to further that descent.

Jayce can’t think about any of that though, he’s just happy that his partner is alive and who wouldn’t be, he’d been waiting for days, possibly weeks for him to wake. Viktor’s mortality is one of the things that Jayce has struggled with the most in the series, which is what makes his survivor’s guilt so much more pertinent. A lot of people claim that Jayce grew up rich and coddled, and I think that’s true to an extent, but they forgot his family were workers, tool smiths. Jayce seemed to grow up with the idea that he wasn’t that fortunate, that he was a working, middle class man who was going to change the world, and then he meets Viktor, a “poor cripple from the Undercity,” and then he sees what the Undercity is really like and the conditions people live in. And that’s when Jayce realises; he had it good. I believe this is what encourages part of his admiration of Viktor; he is what Jayce thought he was.

Tangent aside, I feel that their hug is a very, very important moment, mainly because of Viktor’s reaction.

He isn’t relieved or uncomfortable, it’s just…nothing. Given what Viktor says about how he doesn’t feel that it’s cold and just recognises that it is cold, I believe this is the moment where it fully sank in how much his body had changed. He couldn’t feel Jayce.

And like, first off, that is such beautiful symbolism for what he says later about how they’re relationship was only held together by affection. Viktor physically cannot feel said affection anymore and know has no reason to stick by the side of someone whose views have become so contrasted to his. But more emotionally, it’s representative of Viktor’s belief that he is unloveable, his new body is merely proof at that, he can’t touch Jayce, he couldn’t save Sky, he couldn’t make the Hexcore work properly, he couldn’t even get Jayce to destroy the Hexcore. To himself, Viktor is a failure who is unworthy of love.

But, he still huge Jayce back. Despite not being able to feel Jaycee’s warmth anymore, despite it feeling like his whole life has crumbled, Viktor wants to give Jayce one last act of service. Perhaps to prove that he still has use, or maybe this was the moment where he decided he would have to part ways with Jayce, and just wanted Jayce to remember his touch, even if Viktor couldn’t remember his.

Anywho if enough people like this dribble, I may post my take on the rest of this scene because it shattered me

[toxycodone]

PLEASE! TELL ME YOUR THOUGHTS ABOUT DAISUKE AND A POSSIBLE RELATIONSHIP WITH HIM. I'm begging and crying, please

ship. daisuke x reader

content. sfw + romantic

an. i have not been reading any other content but I’ve seen the massive complaints of people babying him through the grapevine 💀 so well. hopefully my thoughts are good

We all know this but Daisuke is seriously such a cutie.

Just. He’s so outwardly kind and enthusiastic, so before you two are even dating he’s practically just glued to your hip.

I think before any romance is involved he makes a great friend. He’s inviting you to his house to play video games (his mom makes snacks which is lowkey embarrassing but also pretty cute).

Honestly I think his mom is trying to teach him to be an adult but also like. Cannot stop babying him. Like he’s such a good son could you resist spoiling him?

And it just spirals to you too bc like! You’re the guest! Going to his place is always nice bc it’s like yay! It’s like they practically adopted you. (It wears out tho his mom makes you start doing your own dishes or something and it’s like oh. You’re *really* apart of the family.)

ANYWAYS ENOUGH. but before you two get together. Daisuke’s crush on you is like. So obvious.

He tries so hard to keep it to himself bc he’s afraid to ruin whatever you have right now but. Geez.

He lights up when he sees you and is almost talking a mile a minute—he’s just so excited to be with you and be talking to you!! You’re his favorite person!!!

And he’s always trying to impress you…like, it’s always something so dumb too. Showing off his arcade skills or whatever. He’s silly.

I think he can’t resist blushing when you’re around too. Like. There’s always a nice mauve stain on his cheeks and it’s ADORABLE.

He doodles. He doodles you. The stereotypical initials in hearts. YEAH. When he’s in classes or taking notes he most definitely starts daydreaming and ends up with silly doodles and hearts and crap UGHHH

His sketchbook is where it really gets dumb and crappy and romantic. Which he tries SO HARD TO HIDE FROM YOU ITS CRAZY.

when he musters of the courage to tell you his feelings (there’s a lot of stuttering and crap) he’s fist pumping and going LETS GOOOOOOOOO (when you’re not around but you manage to catch it probably)

He’s such a good boyfriend oh my god. In my mind he really values family and stuff so you are EXTREMELY important to him (and by default his fam)

You have a good relationship w his mom off the bat she ADORES you for how happy you make her son oh my god

He does a lot of stupid romantic shit like…pulls a chair out for you at dates, gives you flowers, tries to write love notes 💞

DUMB THRIFTING DATES WHERE YOU PICK OUT OUTFITS FOR EACH OTHER. UGHHHH DONT TOUCH ME.

But dating you also makes him think more seriously about life. Because he gets waaaaay ahead of himself and is like “oh my goodness,,,I have to prepare and get a job so we can get married and have a giant wedding and buy a nice house and get a pet and” (he’s naming your kids in his mind btw.)

[puck-luck]

Ooh omg congrats on the 1K!!

I would like to request 5 of clubs with Jack Hughes please. (Maybe with an exhibition kink 🙈)

This isn't quite as clubs-like or exhibitionist, but I've been feeling slightly out of the mood today (I think because I had to make a lesson about the American relationship with Native Americans during colonization... not the most uplifting topic). Hoping for something better tomorrow!

Also I'm watching a 2.5 hour video essay about One Direction's history right now. I love that people can make whatever content they want, and they usually give it their all :)

after typing that i'm realizing that statement is really meta since i'm writing nhl fanfic. sigh. ok fine i guess i enjoy my own content whatever

Warnings: fingering, exhibition, Paul Mescal in Gladiator II WC: 592

You’ve never been one to keep trivial secrets from Jack. He’s your boyfriend and you are thoroughly against miscommunication. Your openness has resulted in plenty of fun jokes for Jack, the latest of which has landed you in your current predicament. You’re in the bougie movie theater that Jack always splurges on, sitting in a plush recliner and watching Gladiator II. Jack thought this would be a fun date night, because– well– you love Paul Mescal. 

It’s something about his nose. It’s very Roman, which you find sexy. Jack knows this, and knows that you’ve particularly enjoyed the costume design of the film, even joking with you about dressing up like a gladiator for Halloween. 

He hadn’t mentioned it again until this morning, which is when he told you that he’d bought some tickets for the film. It had actually been out for a while now, so the theater is relatively empty, but you’d never had the time to see the movie. Jack, after all, had wanted to see it with you… probably because he wanted to pull something like this.

He knows that Paul Mescal is your celebrity crush. You’ve been repeating that to yourself since you realized that it’s the motivation behind Jack’s movements. His touch had been casual at first, just tapping his fingers against your thigh. He’d convinced you to wear a skirt by claiming you’d be going to dinner afterward. You expect that his real reason is that he wanted easy access.

His fingers are inside of you now, petting over your walls. He’s teasing you, moving slowly when Paul Mescal isn’t on screen and thrusting into you at a quicker pace when your crush graces your vision with his presence. Jack also particularly likes drawing circles over your clit as he moves inside you, constantly keeping you on the edge.

“Jack,” you hiss, ready to try and convince him to stop, even though you only half-want his movements to cease. You’re flushing a bit, eyes darting around the theater to make sure no one is watching you. There are only a few other groups in the theater: another couple two rows ahead, a group of university-aged girls near the middle of the theater, two middle aged women in the front row. All in all, there are less than fifteen people in this theater. 

“Be quiet, baby. I can’t have everyone hearing you,” Jack murmurs. He shoves a handful of popcorn into his mouth, continuing his movements. He’s acting completely normal, even as your cunt squeezes him tight. 

You bring your hand down and clutch his wrist, trying to halt his movements. 

Jack turns to you. “Do you really want me to stop?” He asks quietly. Paul Mescal starts speaking on the screen and Jack’s eyes flicker away from you to check the screen. His thumb increases its pace against your clit and his fingers flex rapidly inside of you. 

You whimper a bit, clenching down involuntarily. Your knuckles turn white while your fingers grip his arm. Your hips jolt.

Jack quirks an eyebrow. 

“No,” you admit, loosening your grip and allowing him to continue. 

“Just pay attention to Paul,” Jack encourages, smirking at you and brushing a kiss against your cheek. “I’m just here to help you along, baby.”

You scoff quietly, cringing a bit at his words. 

Jack clocks your reaction, his face breaking out in a tiny smile. He giggles to himself, tracing the line of your jaw before mouthing against your throat. “Don’t laugh. We’re having fun. You, me, and your other boyfriend.”

[mannequinreligi0n]

Hello obscura, would you be open to writing something about the Sparda brothers quietly in love with the reader (or the reader not so interested/doesn’t feel the same way)? I’d love to read more about them…aaaarghhh 😭

OFC ! i love psychoanalyzing these two to pieces, so thank you for this <3

There are a multitude of similarities in how the twins would pine over someone. The most glaring to me is that both Dante and Vergil would only fall for someone they have a personal connection to (aka demiromantic). Both have been through insurmountable trauma, and letting someone even remotely close to them would be a huge trigger due to their multitude of losses. It would take a lot of hard work from the person of interest to even form and maintain a friendship with them, let alone a relationship.

If it came down to them developing feelings for someone and the person didn’t reciprocate, I don’t think they would take it well. Both twins are extremely self-destructive and don’t know how to regulate/control their feelings (mostly because of trauma, though perhaps we can also blame the impulsivity and intensity of their devil genes).

Specifics for each twin below. ⬇️

Dante would very much brush off the rejection - playing it cool and coughing out a self-deprecating joke to soften the blow. He would maintain the friendship with the individual and act like he never said anything, but it would eat him alive, day in and day out. Every lingering glance, every laugh from the person would chip away another part of him. Dante is also very much an avoidant attachment; he constantly keeps everyone at arms length to “protect” them and himself. The rejection would only solidify in his mind that he can’t let himself get close to anyone, that putting himself out into the world would only create more problems for him - and he has enough problems. He would still hang around the person and chop it up, but behind closed doors, I think his reliance on alcohol would see an uptick. Drinking himself dumb in order to sleep, only sober when he’s out on a job (if even that). Dante has a terrible habit of deflecting. Deny, deny, deny. He’s incredibly intelligent and can read a room like no other - he knows exactly how to act to make people believe whatever about him. The way the person of interest would figure out how badly he’s taking the rejection would be if they happened to stop by his place late enough, catching him knee deep in whiskey bottles and neglected of all his needs.

Vergil, on the other hand, would rather eat glass than confess his feelings to someone. And it would take months, if not longer, for him to truly feel safe enough to conceptualize loving someone outside of his family. His feelings would not be revealed willingly - it would probably be accidentally blurted, or exposed when/if the person of interest confronts him about it. In contrast to his brother, Vergil is an anxious attachment, through and through. He is constantly in a state of fear, worried the person will turn their back on him or forget him entirely. As a result, he unknowingly will cling to them like his life depends on it - checking in on them constantly, frequently asking their opinion of him and whatever he’s doing. It could be overbearing and anxiety-inducing, which could lead to the mentioned confrontation. Regarding rejection, Vergil would shut down entirely. Think of a small child being yelled at by a parent: they’ll run and hide, crying in a dark corner of their room until someone comes to find them (if they come at all). He would shut that person out entirely, too embarrassed and ashamed to even show his face to them again. I see him locking himself away in his room for days, only having enough energy to cry and write. If not that, he’d just disappear entirely, practically falling off the face of the earth until he’s pushed down the ugly feelings enough to return. He would behave coldly to the person there after, even if it internally killed him.

[glisten-inthedark]

The way Mike says “I say it,” during his argument with El about how he doesn’t say ily is very intriguing to me. He says it with so much….gravity? Solemness? Almost….somberness?? It’s so hard to pinpoint but there’s no warmth in his eyes and it almost feels like a mantra, and he does this little nod at the end of it like he’s telling himself, “Yep, that’s right, I do say it.” He says it like saying it will end the conversation. But it doesn’t.

I agree with other analyses that say he’s trying to gaslight himself in this scene too because what an odd delivery.

Also, have we ever really broken down why this entire scene proves that him not saying I love you isn’t born out of insecurity or, like he later claims, saying it would make El realize he’s just a loser soon? Because for one thing, it’s not like this is something that is disappointing El but she’s keeping it to herself and only confiding it in others. She makes it so damn clear that she wants Mike to say it, that it’s reached the point where she doesn’t think he loves her romantically anymore—if he loves her romantically but is insecure, then El confronting him on not saying it to her should actually make him feel more secure because it’s confirmation that she wants me to love her romantically. And it’s also showing him that he’d actually lose her faster by not saying it than by saying it so what the hell does he have to lose?

But more importantly, Mike insists that he does tell her he loves her.

So how the fuck would that work, Wheeler?? You’re afraid of saying the words I love you to her because you think you’ll lose her faster if you do but also you insist that you do say it?? So if you want El to believe that you do tell her you love her even though apparently her being told by you that you love her would facilitate you losing her??????

Bullshit, Michael Wheeler!

And I think you were the one who pointed out that Mike doesn’t say, “You know how I feel about you,” but rather, “You know what I think of you.” which is like, such a huge Freudian slip imo, especially because he then goes on to say only 2 things about her: she’s the most incredible person in the world, and she’s a superhero.

Nothing about how he feels about her. Just what he thinks of her as. And guess who also calls El a superhero? Her other friends. Mike says two things about El in this scene that literally anyone else in their party would. Compared to Will’s van confession where he talks about how Mike makes him feel—like he’s better for being different, like he’s not a mistake, and gives him the courage to keep going. That’s fucking romantic love right there.

Lastly I want to praise Finn Wolfhard for his microexpressions during that entire argument because I rewatched it over and over for this comment to try and find words to describe how he delivers that one line, but damn after El says, “You can’t even write it,” he has the most fleeting microexpression of panic that is honestly so impressive—it’s this eye twitch/muscle flex by his right eye and this tiny little flinch forward, it almost looks like the right side of his face minutely trembles, A+ acting right there👏👏👏

Hello!

First of all I'm hella sick and I just took some medicine so if I don't make any sense you can blame it on that lmao.

First of all, I just rewatched the scene to see if I could pick it up and my diseased riddled brain did notice what you're talking about. Firstly, he says with such certainty that you'd almost believe it if it weren't for the fact we saw how he signed his letters to El.

And secondly, is almost as if he's trying to convince himself and her that he does say it, probably because as you said, he expected this to end the conversation.

And see, it bothers me so much that people (the GA) don't notice the inconsistency in Mike's behavior because had not one, but two moments that should tell him exactly what he claims he needs to hear. The first is when El tells him point blank that she loves him too, and the second is this one.

Like, what sense does it make that he says he doesn't say the one thing he knows she wants him to say because he's afraid that it'll hurt if he loses her, but him not saying is clearly what's hurting her therefore might be the thing that can make him lose her, so WHY DON'T YOU SAY IT, MICHAEL?

And it's like you said, he says be does say it like he believes it, like he thinks he does which opens another Pandora box, because is like you said, he's telling El he says he loved and then turns around and says he didn't say it because he's afraid to lose her so WHICH IS IT? Can't be fucking both.

And yup, I'm the one who said that about him saying what he thinks of her and not what he feels.

He never says he likes her or anything remotely singular to her personality, is just about the things he thinks she can do which I still insist connects to her he associates El with physical and emotional security that he lacks.

But yes, he never said what she really needed to her, he said the opposite as a matter of fact.

I hope this made sense lmao

[tallulah477]

Soft Touches

⭒˚.⭒. 1K Follower Special .⭒.˚⭒

Pairing: Jake x Fem!Na'vi!Reader

Warnings: P in V, Fingering, Alien Genitalia, Soft Sex, Slight Tail Play, Creampie, Knotting, Finger sucking/Fingers in mouth, Slight Breeding Kink

Word Count: 4K

A/N: First fic in a while! Sorry its a little rusty.

A/N 2: For more about how I picture alien genitalia, see here.

Summary: You enjoy a nice lazy morning with your mate after a long night of celebration.

Translations:

Olo'eyktan - Clan Leader

Muntxate - Wife, female spouse

Ikran - Mountain banshee, dragon-like aerial predators

It’s mornings like these that remind you to take a breath.

The mornings when the village is mostly silent. When the normal hustle and bustle of early clan life is put on hold for just a moment, most others favoring the extra sleep and time alone with their loved ones after a long night of celebration before the reality of the day catches up to them and they need to re-enter the real world. 

The celebration was one of new beginnings. The new life born from the couple who had been trying for a long time - new parents who you had seen almost give up hope in ever conceiving after years of nothing finally receiving Eywa’s blessing in the form of a beautiful baby boy. The People cheered and prayed for their new clan member as Jake formally introduced him to the world, holding the baby high above his head and shouting his name with pride as if the baby were his own. 

You hope maybe one day soon, he’ll be able to do the same for your own child. 

As the ceremony turned into food and food turned into dance, the night passed by in a flurry of blood thumping music and happy memories. Your mate is a vision in his Olo’eyktan garb - muscular shoulders made even more broad by the layered feathers proudly displayed on him. His beautiful face somehow made even more beautiful framed by the ornate headpiece that lays distinguished on his forehead. The multitude of necklaces and armbands that adorn him, dressed with colorful beading, intricate knots, and bones. 

They’re symbols of respect. Symbols of honor. 

You can’t wait to tear them off his body when you get home.

And so you do - following every instinct you have as you rip the badges of honor from him in a fierce display that has your Olo’eyktan practically shaking in excitement and grinning that adorably goofy smile of his as he leans back against your shared woven mat, hands folded comfortably behind his head as he lets you ravage him to your heart’s delight. 

Your lovemaking is rough. Passionate. The perfect blend of ‘I love you, baby. Now fuck me like you don’t’. It’s the kind of intimacy that makes you feel alive. It’s exciting and fun, quick and intensely satisfying as you both greedily chase that pleasure that you know only the other can provide. 

“Fucked your brains out,” Jake jokes afterwards, and you resist the urge to smack him - too satisfied and gooey in the glow of the aftermath that you can’t even bring yourself to move to make the hit. 

You think he knows that, which is probably why he said it.

You don’t dream, and sometimes that’s better than even the best dreams. There’s nothing to keep your mind working, no other life to live in another world and nothing to bring your deepest fears or greatest dreams to life. It’s just silence. Pure rest and energy replenishment. You wake up feeling refreshed - calm and serene. 

Like the rest of the world is miles away and it’s just you and the love of your life together alone, away from all responsibility and the demands life brings.

Mornings like this are easy. 

Soft light just barely making it into the hut, just enough to light up everything around you, but not enough that you couldn’t easily fall back asleep if you wanted to. Jake’s arms are a warm blanket around you, keeping you close and safe and protected even in sleep. The consistent puffs of breath on your neck from where his face is pressed close to you is soothing in a way you can’t even begin to describe. You could lay here all day, wrapped up in the warmth of his body and the unassuming fuzziness of almost sleep blurring at the edges of your vision. 

There’s no worries right now, no concern or to-do’s or looming tasks that are faring for your attention. 

It’s just him and you. Even if for only right now. 

Your fingers subconsciously trace along Jake’s forearm, the tips dragging a lazy back and forth pattern along the smooth skin. He fits behind you perfectly, muscular body curling around yours like it was built to fit against yours. You think maybe it was. Eywa may not have been his maker, the body he is in now was once human-made. But despite not being his maker, she is his Mother - and you know just as well as any other Na’vi how the Great Mother can perform miracles. 

She made him for you somehow. Just for you.

Your fingers continue their featherlight touches on his arm and they’re more deliberate now as your tail curls around the back of Jake’s leg so the soft tuft of hair at the end can tickle along the back of his knee. The light touches are guaranteed to wake him up. He showers you in a strong gentleness, granting you the light and soft touches that you love so much exactly when you need them, but he prefers a firmer touch. The softer touches drive him insane after a while and he’ll often grab your hand and push it harder against his skin to starve off the sensation or even drag your nails across the spot to get rid of the itch. 

You’re a menace, purposefully teasing him with light touches just to see him react the way he does. Just because it's a soft and peaceful morning doesn’t mean you’ll show him reprieve. 

The tightness in your core says you want him, so he needs to wake up. Just the feel of his body pressing against yours and the rhythmic puffs of breath on the back of your neck is sending pleasant tingles down your spine. The warmth of his body heat turns into a different kind of warmth that swells in your stomach and settles between your thighs.

You can feel him start to stir behind you, the puffs of breath becoming harsher as his arm and leg twitch against your lovingly mean touches. Your body tenses in excitement when you feel the sharp teeth press against the nape of your neck and the low growl he lets out reverberates through your entire body.

“What have I said about the touching, baby?”

“Firm strokes,” You grin before adding on a smug, “Everywhere.”

Jake hums against you, teeth still a clear warning against the back of your neck and they dig in just a little harder at your cheeky answer. 

“That’s right,” He says against your skin. “So why is my mate being bad on this very nice morning?”

“Wanted you to wake up,” You breathe. 

Your tail flicks at the back of his knee again and you let out an excited laugh when he pulls his arm away from your tickling fingers to snatch your tail. He jerks it swiftly in reprimand, not hard enough to actually hurt but just enough for you to feel the sharp pull of it and the sensation shoots right down to your center.

“Wake up for what?” He asks, but you can hear the responding grin in his voice.

You arch your back, pressing your ass against his bare front just to drive the point home. His cock is still sheltered in its protective sheath, but the action is clear anyway. “You know for what,”

The move does its job and your Jake is significantly riled up in an instant. He presses his front harder against your back, rolling you slightly forward to better gain leverage against you. The muscular arm you’re using as a pillow shifts so that his hand can reach down and cup your breast, squeezing the soft flesh in his large hand. The other hand slides across your hip, the tip of your tail still caught in the loose ring of his thumb and pointer finger as he drags it with him between your thighs. 

He keeps it trapped there as his middle finger runs across your slick slit, sliding up and down the length of your pussy with the lightest of touches. The tuft of hair on your tail sticks together as Jake drags it with him and a part of you wants to yell at him, mortified at the idea of your own tail becoming dirtied by your own sticky mess. But the feeling of the soft hair sliding across your needy slit makes you even more desperate and the control that he shows he has over you as he uses your own hair tuft on your tail to help him tease you makes you whimper.

“Ma Jake,” You squirm. You tilt your hips trying to get him to touch you better - push a little harder, slide a finger inside, touch your clit, something. But he doesn’t budge. Just continues his teasing as he nips his sharp teeth at your ear.

“Hm, what’s wrong, babygirl?” He mocks. “I thought you liked soft touches.”

Since he moved, your hands had been clutching the wrist of the hand caressing your breast. Now, you pull one away from its resting place to grab the hand between your thighs trying to manipulate his fingers into moving to the places you want them to. The inside of your palm brushes against the sticky strands of hair as Jake makes it brush over your clit and your tail jerks in response as your body inadvertently tries to tug it away, but Jake keeps it hostage between his skilled fingers. The fine hairs leave silky lines of wetness against your palm. 

“Please,” You whine and your fingers press against his middle finger, forcing it to slip between your wet lips. “Be nice to your muntxate.”

“Yeah?” Jake grumbles. “After you were just so nice to me?”

A part of you wants him to continue to drag this out. You like the tease. The way the barely there touches are nowhere near enough to get you to where you want to be but the tortuous featherlight brush of fingers makes you wetter than direct and firm touches would. Jake knows how to play with you, knows how to work you up to near madness with barely even lifting a finger. He touches the right spots - gentle brushes against the length of your pussy, caressing along the sides and down the slit, dipping in enough just to be able to slide across your hole that clenches with need from every new ‘not touch’. Sometimes his fingers would nudge against your clit, just enough to make you jump as a shock of pleasure shoots into your belly at the place you most want him to touch finally getting some attention, even if for only one fleeting second. 

“I’m always nice to you,” You breathe. 

“Oh, yeah?” Jake laughs, knowing disbelief coloring the beautiful sound and you can’t help the cheeky grin that pulls at your lips in return. “You’re always nice to me, huh?

“Mhm,” You agree. You lean your head back so your cheek can rub against Jake’s. “The nicest and most perfect mate ever.”

“Hm,” Jake hums and your breathing hitches as when his fingers slide more purposefully towards your dripping hole. “Yeah, you’ve never been a pain in my ass for a single second, have you?”

Your tail lashes out behind you when Jake loosens his grip on it in favor of sinking his long fingers inside you. It smacks against Jake’s thigh a few times and distantly you hope that it leaves a wet spot there too as payback, but the thought is so removed from your brain right now that it hardly even registers at all. His fingers slide into you so perfectly, the size of two of them sinking into your cunt begins to stretch you out so well. Compared to the actual size of him, it's not enough to fully prepare you. But you can feel where his cock has come out to play behind you, already hard and wet from the slick of its protective sheath as it pokes at the curve of your ass. 

“You’ve just always been my good girl,”

His words are sweet, the urge to nod and agree that yes, yes you have always been his good girl is so strong as his fingers fill you up, but you know better than anyone how the edge of sarcasm in his words ring true. When you first met Jake, you had been hostile. Furious with your best friend when she had saved him in the forest and furious even more when she begged for your help to train him in the ways of The People when her father had instructed her to take on the task of babysitter. It makes you laugh now to think back on those months. Neytiri wasn’t nice by any means, but she had quickly developed a fond friendship with the dreamwalker despite her early aggression. And even though you hissed at him, smacked him instead of guiding him into place when learning to shoot a bow and arrow and use a knife, and called him every insult you knew straight to his face while fully taking advantage of the fact that he was still learning Na’vi - you had grown to be quite fond of him too.

The differences you had once held against him were now things to be cherished. The five fingers that once made you nervous, too associated with the demons that had come and killed people that you cared about and tried to destroy your home, were a symbol of his loyalty to you and The People. He chose you - chose to be with you and give his loyalty to you and Eywa and the rest of the clan over the species he was born as, and you take pride in seeing that fifth finger on his hand, playing with it lovingly between your own fingers, and knowing what it symbolizes to you. Made a human but created by the Great Mother: different, but still Na’vi. 

But you are a warrior - fierce and focused, courageous and determined. Maybe a little aggressive. Stubborn. So maybe you’re not always as nice as you could be. The fondness grown from spending the time of getting to know Jake and the unavoidable blessing of love that came after couldn’t have stopped the aspects of your personality and you’d be lying to yourself if you said you were always a patient, kind, and understanding bundle of joy. You argue and expect things, fierce in your opinions and beliefs just as fierce as you love. 

You would never have found a worthy match with someone else in the clan. No one else could have ever handled you the way Jake can. No one else would have ever loved you as much as Jake does. 

You’re a pain in his ass - on him from the start if he’s wrong about something, making a bad call or the wrong decision, and you push him to be better as a good mate should. Direct communication. No sugar-coating things. Jake can handle it and you hate it in the moment, but you’re grateful that you can say he returns the favor too. 

“My perfect mate,” Jake agrees and your tail shakes with excitement as he digs his fingers in deeper.

You’re so wet already, slick pooling between your thighs as you spread them more to give him a little more space for his hand. The hand on your breast clings to it, not letting go or loosening its grip for a second as he squeezes at your chest. His clever fingers form a cage around your nipple that pinches the hard bud between his third and fourth finger with each squeeze, and the sharp pang of pleasure that courses through your body from the stimulation drives you to grind down on the hand between your thighs even harder.

His fingers feel so good inside you, stretching you and thrusting as deep as they can go as you leak around them. He knows all your good spots, fingertips curling and rubbing against your slick walls as he torments the spots he can reach in his position and rakes the tips of his fangs on the back of your neck to make up for the ones he can’t. Your hand is still laying on top of his, moving with it as if it’s guiding its movements. Jake lets you keep it there. He knows you like to act like you’re in control sometimes. 

The thick head of his cock pokes at your ass, sliding against the curve of it and your hand finally leaves the top of his to reach behind you. Your hand curls around his length, stroking gently and feeling each textured bump and barb rub against your fingertips. His fingers are good, magical even. But even in the soft morning glow when things are quiet and you should be satisfied, it’s still not enough. 

“Ma Jake, please?”

He chuckles. “You’re so polite when you want something,” 

You grin. “Don’t make me be mean,”

Jake shifts his hips harder against your ass, somehow shoving his fingers deeper inside you as he rubs his cheek against yours, lips pressing just off to the side of your own in a quick kiss. “Yeah, wouldn’t want you to be mean, would we?”

The joking tone is there again. The humorous sarcasm. Jake likes you when you're sweet and pliant - it's a rarity that he likes to enjoy in the odd moments that it comes like this one. But he loves it when you're mean. 

He doesn’t let you respond, instead choosing to be nice and halting the sweet torment of his fingers in your cunt and replacing them with the blunt press of his cock at your entrance. Your body mourns the loss of his fingers when he pulls them from between your legs, but you do well to push the feeling down when he hooks his hand under your knee and bends your leg up, spreading you more to give him easier access to push his cock inside. 

Your eyes flutter shut in bliss as his length spears you open, stretching you and filling you up the way you know only he can. You can feel every delicious raised bump on his cock as he slides into you and you squeeze down on him, reveling in the way the texture scrapes against your slick walls. 

Sometimes you wonder what it would have been like to be like this with him in his human body. Wheelchair and paralyzing spinal injury aside - you still imagine him standing straight, as tall as he can be, and staring at you with that daring, cocky, fearless expression of his - smirking and ready to tame you just as he had tamed his ikran. 

He’d be so much smaller than you. Your hand easily encompassing the entire side of his head as you pulled him in for a kiss, and the agitation you might feel at having to wait even for the few seconds it takes for him to pull off his breathing mask. He’d be smaller down there too. The thought makes you giggle a little. It’s a shame really - because the idea of trying the human version of him, despite your pretenses, is very appealing. Smaller human Jake is still your Jake, no matter what body he is in.

How would it feel? There would be no barbs or added texture for stimulation, no extra slick other than a small amount of precum to make taking it any easier. No knot to lock you in and keep you close afterwards. 

How would it feel encased snugly inside your walls? It would be smooth, right? Save for maybe a vein here and there. He’s told you before that a human’s genitalia hangs outside the body, balls included. You think that’s rather interesting. Stupid - but interesting. A flawed design in a species that mostly considers itself perfect. But what would that feel like? You can picture what you think that would be like - Jake’s own swinging, unprotected, with each thrust. Would they slap against your ass as he fucks you? Could they hit your clit if you make him fuck you with you on all fours?

You’d never ask him. Your pride would never let you. But sometimes, you think about it and wonder. The desire to try something you know you never can and to do it with the only person you would ever want to try it with. 

The first retreat of him pulling back and then the slow and dragging slide of him pushing back into you makes sure to clear that lingering thought out of your mind. What could you possibly want that for when you have this right here? 

Perfect, passionate, intimate, and completely yours. 

His lips are at your ear, panting breath fanning at the curve of it as he murmurs to you about how tight you are and how good you feel around him. Like a perfect sleeve made just for my cock, he tells you, and groans when the words make you clench around him like a vice. 

Jake’s hand lets go of your knee to reach around your front again, fingers finding the sensitive bud between your thighs. Your clit throbs under his touch and there’s people around you in the nearby huts - families who can definitely hear you if you get too loud. And even though sex is not taboo among the Na’vi like you’ve learned it is among many humans, it's still early on a morning post celebration and people are sleeping. You don’t think Weim, Tsuakir, and their young daughter, Iski, would appreciate getting woken up by the pleasured mewling cries of their Olo’eyktan’s mate before it’s time for them to rise. 

You get out one loud moan before Jake is pulling his hand from your breast and shoving his fingers in your mouth. 

“Shhh, babygirl,” Jake whispers. “Can’t keep you all to myself if you wake up the whole damn village.”

A part of you wants to bite at the fingers in your mouth, the urge to rebel in any way you can against Jake’s slight increase in control over you, but they work too well - long digits pressing into the sides of your cheek and against your tongue just enough to keep you quiet. His other hand is drawing swirls around your clit, using the combined wetness of both of your slicks to make it nice and slippery.  

The knot on the base of his cock is swelling, pushing and pulling at the rim of your entrance with each rhythmic rock of his hips, and you suck eagerly at Jake’s fingers in your mouth as your body molds to each stretch and give. Jake’s voice is in your ear, gravely and deep as he groans about how he’s going to tie you to him, keep you locked on his cock and fill you up until your belly swells. 

“Maybe next time it will be us up there introducing our kid to the clan,” He grunts, nipping your ear with his sharp teeth. You moan, eyes fluttering as his thrusts speed up, the wet sounds of skin on skin and his voice filling your ear is all you can hear in the small hut. “Would you like that, baby?”

The swollen knot catches on your rim, pushing inside with a pointed snap of Jake’s hips, and you gasp when it slips inside you, stretching you to what you always feel are your limits but your body welcomes him willingly. The shock of his knot locking inside you and the insistent circles on your clit trigger your orgasm, and you cum to the warmth of Jake’s own release painting your insides as you clench around him, pleasure crashing through your body and leaving you feeling all the more fuzzy and weightless in the soft morning glow filling the hut than how you woke. 

Jake’s arms cuddle around you, his head laying on top of yours as you both bask in the afterglow. The village is starting to come back to life around you, sounds of children playing and the usual hustle and bustle of clan life making its way through the entrance of your home. Soon, you’ll have to leave the safety and closeness of Jake’s loving hold.

But not right now - you still have some time left. 

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[maxdibert]

How do you think Severus would relate to a child of his own, if he had one? What kind of father do you think he would be?

There are so many possible answers to this question because it would really depend on the context in which Snape became a father (before or after the War), his child’s personality, and, of course, what his partner would be like. But, let’s assume we’re talking about a post-War Snape in an AU, because honestly, I can’t imagine canon Severus being a father in any way—it would literally be suicidal. Having a child would not only endanger his mission as a spy but also give his enemies perfect leverage to use against him. And he’s already suffered too much in life to throw in that level of angst. So, starting from a scenario where there’s no war and Severus can focus on being both calm and depressed (because he’d still be depressed, especially if he no longer has a clear purpose keeping him going), I don’t think the idea of fatherhood would really thrill him at first. It’s not like he’s someone who’s ever thought of having children, or at least he ruled out the possibility long ago. If he had a partner who wanted kids, I think he’d agree, but with a terrifying sense of dread about fatherhood because 1) his parental role models are terrible, and he never had a functional upbringing, and 2) he’s never really liked kids. It probably wouldn’t occur to him that maybe the issue is that he doesn’t like other people’s kids, but his own would be different. That’s why I think his partner would be a fundamental factor in this—supporting him throughout the process and keeping him grounded about his own traumas.

That said, I imagine him as a strict but supportive father, one who sets rules and commands respect but without using violence or verbal attacks on his children. He’d especially try to spare them the awful childhood he endured with his own father. But I still see him as the kind of dad who has rules and expects them to be followed, the classic type who cares a lot about grades and school behavior (he was a teacher for 18 years, after all). He’d probably see certain grades as failures if they didn’t meet expectations. He’d likely be a bit awkward with affection, although he’d find his own ways to make his children feel loved, valued, and accepted. He’d be a present father but would struggle to be fully emotionally open, though he’d likely improve this over time and with effort.

I also see him preferring to have daughters, or at least finding it much easier to bond with a daughter. I’ve always thought that it’s simpler for Severus to relate to women (Lily was his first friend, and the other person he spent time with as a child was Petunia, also a girl. As much as he picked on Hermione, he wasn’t as harsh with her as he was with Harry, Neville, or Ron. He seemed to have a fairly close relationship with Narcissa, etc.). Basically, most of the men in his life have been abusers (his father, the Marauders, Dumbledore manipulating and blackmailing him, Voldemort...), so he’s more at ease, or maybe just more himself, when he’s around women. I can see him thinking that he might not fully understand “girl stuff,” but that it’s better than having a son who’s into Quidditch and facing the prospect of not knowing how to deal with a boy who represents all the typical “boy” interests and behaviors that Severus doesn’t really embody. He’d probably have some anxiety over this—something common among men who don’t fit into stereotypical norms associated with their own gender.

Still, whether he had a son or a daughter, he’d try to provide them with a functional and stable home, where there’s affection and respect, allowing them to grow up with the security he never had. I don’t see him as an “easy” father because he has too much baggage, but he’d be aware of that baggage and try to address it when he realizes he’s messed up. He wouldn’t do that for others, but he’d do it for his children.

[ziploc849]

Another wall of text on my thoughts for episodes 70-78, I’m gonna make a seperate post for 79 and 80 having listened to them already cause there is just. So much.

I wrote all of these notes after listening to the original episode, not any further, so enjoy my thought process though the last quarter of this season!!!

Ep 70: More death discussions, oh joy!! These are the episodes that make me the most uncomfortable, the ones that talk about the nature of death more than just the fact that it exists. I am curious where these books are coming from, if it’s not just Leitner’s involvement that makes them fucked up. Also Not-Sasha’s laptop having “authentication errors” definitely sounds accurate, even the technology can tell she’s not really her.

Ep 71: Another example of a story with a focus on claustrophobia. Most of the ones we’ve heard by now are from people who are very clearly scared/panicked by the occurance, but Karolina was suuuper chill about it all. Even not being afraid of death, as she mentioned. It feels strange to not be at least a bit perturbed by the idea of your own death, especially in such an untimely way. That’s coming from me though, who absolutely has a fear of death in some capacity, so I’m probably projecting a bit

Ep 72: Basira you better still be alive and not murdered by darkness demons or some shit you’re too cool. Also kindly what the fuck is this episode. I know there’s been some episodes to do with large amounts of meat or body parts, the room in the man upstairs, the teeth in thrown away. A part of me wants to say this is just a story about a crazy fucking murderer, but I am far to familiar with this fucking series by this point to think it’s just that. So seriously what is the fucking deal with all the meat. The link to the Tom Hahn in Killing Floor is interesting though much like Jon I have no clue what it means.

Ep 73: There are officially too many cults and I cannot keep track of them. Once again phobia themes!!! Darkness!!! Plus the idea that a space was much smaller in reality than it seemed while going through it, which sounds at least similar to a lot of the endless/infinite stuff we’ve seen before. I’m a little worried about Basira now, since like Jon mentioned being involved and in the know with these things in the way they are seems to offer some level of safety, at least more than if they’re not part of an official organization. Iirc Natalie was the weird girl who kept unscrewing the lightbulbs in that one episode, and Rayner was mentioned in Fathers Love?? I think??

74: Totally unexpected change of events, something fucked is in the tunnels!!! Never would’ve guessed!!!! Snarkiness aside though, this episode is interesting. Michael being there was confusing at first, but I’d wager a guess the drawings mentioned are fractals, or something similar, and he seems to like things that go on forever and fold in on themselves. The idea of the thing in the tunnels somehow removing and replacing the floor is interesting, I don’t know if we’ve seen things like that happen in places that are not somehow extradimensional or unreal in some way (like the spaces Michael likes so much). The fact that the person is taking files is also concerning, I would hope Jon would check to see if anything important is missing, or what was taken in general. Clues n such. Also we’re finally getting more confirmation that Not-Sasha is up to some sketchy shit!!!! Catch on Jon please god!!

75: Michael Crew what the hell have you become. The mention from Jon about wondering if the books take power from the people reading them instead of the other way around makes sense, but what does that mean for people like crew? People who died because of something to do with the book and are just. Inexplicably back? I can’t remember if there are other examples of something like this or if it’s just that there’s been so many books and so much death that it blends together. Basira really came through bringing the tapes, and it’s a much more satisfying goodbye to her character than just “fuck it I’m done buh bye”

Ep 76: Melanie King my beloved!!! I love that she and Jon are able to, for lack of a better term, infordump together lol. Hearing them literally finish each others sentences in the end talking about the research King was doing gave me a special kind of happiness lol. I do hope she doesn’t get murdered by ghosts in India though. Also she doesn’t recognize Not-Sasha!!!!! She knows she isn’t actual Sasha!!!! And now Jon has a real and true inkling of what’s going on. C’mon Jon you remember Graham from Across the Street, put the pieces together please god.

Ep 77: we have answers on whatever is up with Not-Sasha!! The Not-Them, apparently just one weird creature. Gertrude mentions “The Stranger”, which idk what it means but I know Mary Keay mentioned “The End”. I really don’t know what this could be about, but the way they talk about them like creatures or something is curious. Jon putting pieces together at the end even I hadn’t realized!!! Distortion and Strange Music both had Sasha’s voice. God I already knew the voice actor for Jon is fucking incredible but the panic and horror in his voice as he puts the pieces together of what Not-Sasha is, and what it must’ve done to actual Sasha? Phenomenal. But also I REALLY want Jon to clue the others in on what’s going on. They might not believe him right away and it might take a lot of explanation but there is real logic and evidence in what’s going on, they’ll pick up on that I assume

Ep 78: God the grief in Jon’s voice is awful. VA is too good. But also listening to the statement, hearing such explicit confirmation that the people attacked by the Not-Them are dead, not simply missing or lost, was so hard to hear Jon read. Just realizing that was probably the first time he got proper confirmation of it as well. Also god DAMN it he needs to tell Tim and Martin what the fuck is going on they can HELP. And maybe then he can get help from his friends instead of going through Michael’s fucking doors to escape the now unbound(???) Not-Them. Fucking wild

[wyngigi]

ꕀ LUST FOR LIFE ꕀ 04

↳ sex money feelings die remastered .ᐟ cross posted on ao3

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“ they say only the good die young, that just ain't right 'cause we're having too much fun, too much fun tonight ”

↳ synopsis: a group of individuals find that their first taste of freedom in the world brings more obstacles than expected. some of them, find solace by drowning in liquor or in the backseat of somebody else’s car. a lot of them have got to get their shit together. a lot of them won't.

mdni » story contains nsfw content intended for 18+ audiences pairings » member specific, not listed for spoiler purposes ↳󠁪󠁪 ateez x female reader, ateez x ateez ↳ genre » coming of age ↳ word count » 2.3k ↳ general warnings » substance abuse & consumption, sexual content, morally grey characters, unreliable narrators, internalised homophobia, angst, basically every struggle young adolescence can go through ↳ a/n┆i hope u guys love this chapter as much as i do !! a little blast from the past always has me excited <3 p.s let me know which pairings ur rooting for after reading hehe (and yes next chapter we will be back at the party dont worry the drama has just begun)

04⌇memories of summer bring you

As San weaves his way through the crowd, past the drunken bodies of guys and girls alike, he finds himself reminiscing in just how much he had changed the past few years. Was it okay to live a life like he was right now? He’s not too sure. San first thinks of high school, then his thoughts float to you.

San watches the clock tick above his teacher’s desk, mind wandering as he scribbles on his worksheet with a ballpoint pen. He’s trapped in a god-awful environmental science class (which mind you would’ve been a free period instead), courtesy of not taking enough science courses earlier on to hit the credit minimum. It’s torturous, making him study about the world in a stuffy classroom when he could be out there learning by simply living in it.

San might just be a little salty, but the lesson isn’t actually that interesting either, so his mind has been elsewhere the last half hour. He’ll listen when it actually gets important, maybe. First he was daydreaming about buying a motorcycle and speeding off into the sunset, away from this boring sad old town to go live some larger-than-life bullshit.

Then he thought it’d be too lonely to do by himself, so he brainstormed an alternative. If he were ever able to do it, he’d probably try convincing someone to come with him. He hasn’t even finished his senior year, yet his ideas still don’t seem all that crazy to him. It might be farfetched to others, but San disagrees. If you aren’t dreaming big, could it even be considered a dream at all?

Then he starts wondering if his thoughts are too reckless most, if not all of the time, if attempting to move through life hastily would be too irresponsible and could scare the people around him. But he really doesn’t want to miss out on living, San wants to go see and do the things you have to go out of your way to experience. Something you make the journey for to begin with, not just a simple detour.

The type of stuff you have to just hold your breath for and jump into with no regret before it’s too late, the tide retreating, water becoming far too shallow. (He truly wasn’t lying earlier when he said he loves to be on the move, or that the thrill of exploring had always been dangerously enticing to him.) Those mantras, principles, whatever you wish to call them replay in his mind daily. They always have.

San knows the world won’t slow down and wait for him too. He sees it outside the classroom window right now, how the cars still pass down the street as the birds fly high into the sky even if he’s confined to his seat. San is well aware that it’s him who has to be the one to take the leap of faith and choose to start living. The problem is that sometimes he just can’t.

When San would think about the daredevils, adrenaline junkies, risk takers of the world, those who love to live on the edge of things, preparing for their big take off, he’d think of how he would love to be like that someday. Yeah, someday. The difference was he liked staying on the edge too much. Didn’t like the feeling of climbing to the highest point just for the glory if he could end up tipping over, see himself falling down and lose control of everything in the process.

When third period ends San makes his way out of class then down the hall, stopping at his locker so he can drop off the notebook and stationery he no longer needs till after his second lunch break. San knows he has PE next, so he quickly grabs his gym clothes. It’s not that he cares much about being late for it or missing out on any of the “action” though, he only really enjoys it depending on what sport they’re playing.

He likes the sports where his only role is to defend whenever a ball or something comes his way. It’s why he thinks volleyball is torture; trying his best to stay in his position once his team scores but then somebody is already telling him to hurry up and rotate. Those days are just endless cycles of torture. Actually, were. He started to sit in the nurse’s office on those days.

It’s a good thing they’re doing netball today (he doesn’t have any more passes to sit in the med bay now). San has a lot of fun playing it. He’s even claimed the goalkeeper bib before anyone else can so much that whoever he plays with just lets him have it. The people he usually plays with are good enough to the point where the opposing team never even gets to his third of the court.

Goalkeeper suits him for that exact reason, he enjoys getting to win without even having to take a shot with the ball. San liked how it was so much he didn’t think or want to try being a goal attacker or centre. Well, maybe sometimes he did a little. There were a couple instances where he wanted to try a different role for the first time. San had gotten as close as picking up a different position bib even. Thoughts like that were shoved away quickly however, and the bib would end thrown back into the crate. The mere possibility of letting anyone down in case he was terrible outweighed his curiosity (and potential) on multiple occasions.

Failure was a funny thing; it had given him a terrible feeling that would sit in the pit of his stomach or make him so nauseous it was awfully dizzying. The funnier thing was that San had never truly failed at anything in life, simply because he had never tried much to begin with. That was the case, for quite some time in his life as he knew it. He had been growing more than okay with that knowledge as time passed, then one day he wasn’t.

As he turned away from his locker, San spotted you walking the opposite way to your own fourth period class, clearly getting ready to ditch the rest of the day. His heartbeat had sped up and his palms were awfully sweaty but for the first time ever, he shut out every reasoning voice in his head and chose to do something he never had the courage to before.

The two of you were in the same grade, so he had seen you passing by in the hallways always with both earphones in (to drown out everyone else he assumes, you never talked to anyone when you had them in while carrying an almost sorrow expression). Despite how you looked, you would still be humming away to a tune he could never fully quite catch.

He also knew your lunch times were spent eating shitty snacks from the vending machines and that you really liked the strawberry lollipops from the cafeteria (which they only sold every Friday for some fucked up reason, he overheard you complaining about it to your friends in math).

San would also see you after school with all of your cooler, older friends too. You would all huddle around the corner near the bike racks in the parking lot, out of sight from teachers so you could bum cigarettes off of each other. You’d also listen to music while you were there, only with one earphone in though so you could still hear everyone talk. He liked seeing that, you always looked happy and smiley talking to your friends.

The two of you weren’t complete strangers, but nowhere close enough where he could feel safe calling you his friend either. You shared multiple classes with San, greeting him with a small smile when you’d walk by his seat to get to your own (he liked that you’d always say hi to him even when he never did first). The both of you even worked on group projects together, but that wasn’t enough for him. He wanted to know more about you, to take even the smallest peek at the inner workings of your mind. To find out how you always seemed to not care when things went wrong.

He thinks of your reaction when you would fail a test, how you’d simply shrug before shoving the paper into the bottom of your backpack. Immediately after, smiling as you’d turn around to talk to your friends about whatever you all planned to do that weekend. Stuff like that didn’t make much sense to him. Why would you not opt out of hanging out just for one weekend and study harder to do better on the next test like he would?

San supposes that’s what separates the two of you into vastly different worlds, yet he wants nothing more than to just step over that line and join you.

When he had spotted you there, on that humid summer day in early June a feeling had begun to settle into his stomach again. The strange bit was that it didn’t feel humiliating nor demeaning, but there was still something unsettling about it. It felt extremely foreign at first but now, incredibly comforting. Because for once, it didn’t feel like failure.

So, he then decided to call out to you. It was the very first time he had ever greeted you, without you doing it first. Your name exceedingly foreign on his tongue when coming out of his mouth while you weren’t sitting at your desks in a shared class. You had turned around at the noise, both earphones still blasting music into your ears.

Once you had recognised who the voice belonged too, you immediately had taken out both of your earphones with a smile. The tune he had never been able to fully hear, was now playing into the world for him to hear freely. He felt the corners of his mouth beginning to prick upwards at that. Yet with no plan of what words he would say now, San was immediately regretting his choice to speak to you. His fists were balled up in front of him, grip tightening on his clothes ever so slightly as he lowers his eyes down away from you.

The edge he always treads so carefully on was now unstable and he felt it beginning to crack already. You don’t leave him any more time to freak out over it though. When he looks up, he sees you already opening your mouth to say hello in the soft tone you always use, ushering him over.

“Hey, San. You want to come skip with me?”

The cool breeze flowing through the corridor, cooling down his cheeks just had to heat up again when he locked eyes with you, of course they did. Because San had always found everything about you pretty, from the first time he ever saw you. Not a day would there be a doubt in his mind of that. But, in that very moment he found you strikingly beautiful. In a split second, where his brain and his heart finally worked in unison he had responded hurriedly, before he could overthink it and regret it for the rest of his days.

“Yeah, I do. I’ll come along,” As he chucked his gym clothes back into his locker, a switch had been flicked on in his mind. When he turned around and saw you then, one lollipop in your mouth and a second in your hand, held out to him, a realisation had been thrown into his face like a bucket of ice-cold water. San had ultimately discovered that dancing on the edge was fun, yet leaping off it was much better. Even if the water was too shallow down below, San thinks he would be okay with that.

While walking away from the gym and instead down the hall with you by his side, San had spotted your earphones tangled up and peeking out of your backpack. That day, he settled with the fact that maybe it was okay to be a little too reckless, to move a tad too fast. Even if it could scare people, even if it scared him.

If you asked San what made him love that summer far more than the previous ones, he might mention his drunken bike rides with you and your friends, or the nights he spent laying on the beach with you gazing at the stars. Hell, he even liked the part time job he had to take up thanks to the party you helped him throw (which ended in that broken window he had to pay for). Spending a portion of his summer working as a server wasn’t fun in theory but when you’d visit him on his breaks or pick him up after his shifts, San had found it pretty worth it in the end.

He was truly happy in every moment back then; he’s enlightened even now, because all the memories of summer bring you back to him. Despite existing only as a brief moment in his own mind, San is content because whenever he closes his eyes he finds a version of you is there with him. He’s able feel the sun on his bare skin, with your lips pressed against his own again. His favorite bit being when the lingering hint of strawberries followed as you both pulled away.

Yeah, that’s exactly when it was. Three summers ago. When San had first decided it was alright to embrace being him, to be the person he still was today. All thanks to you.

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[creativity-deficient]

Blah blah something something thinking about Tweek and Craig feeling safest when they’re with each other send post

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

All I’m going to say I think now that my brain remembered part of what it was thinking is that Taylor and Joe went through a lot together (good and bad) and regardless of how it ended or what led to it they both seem to be determined to keep that private and not throw each other under the bus and in the end they’re just two very, very different people whose outlooks in the long term were just never going to align and never has that been clearer.

[atopvisenyashill]

do love how this is an asoiaf blog but i did not put either show in my top 10 this is the world we live in

[deepseawave]

obsessed w the tags on ur last reblog

Omgg, thank you haha, it was a quality post so I just had to appreciate it in full force 😂❤️

Can‘t believe someone would actually enjoy my yapping :,D

[j-esbian]

i don’t even know if we caught walrusman adventurezone’s name but i absolutely adore this concept for a villain and henchperson duo. walruses eat shrimp and im imagining like. that’s literally what was happening and then they both got transformed

[emmebearpaw]

Keeping my thoughts short as I find trying to write about my emotions just makes me feel them longer as I continue feeling them while writing about them. Do you ever find yourself wishing something upon yourself that would objectively make your life harder because “then it would be easier to make things make sense”. Like, no brain, having more symptoms of neurodivergence wouldn’t make things better except for in the very specific situation of diagnosis. It would just make our life harder the rest of the time. No dysphoria isn’t something to want either. Yes it would make it easier to parse out what the gender situation actually is. In both fronts we just have to be ok with never investigating and never getting an answer, because investigating is miserable due to how unhappy it makes me and without investigating I can’t get an answer. Now please stop thinking about myself and stop feeling the stomach void TM plus nausea.

[rosesradio]

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