#will eventually be uploaded to ao3

[blu-ish]

GUESS WHAT I HAVE NOW YALL MUAHHAHA after all these years she finally makes an Ao3 account smh

[dimmeddown]

An Opinionated Guide to Cybertronian Sweets (commonly found in vending machines)

This was written from the POV of a pre-war mech, who’s really into sweets, has both the mouth and proboscis to experience them with, and the strength of opinion to write this guide.

The guide itself was distributed by them to little public sharing libraries, or other nooks and crannies where one might find politically-unpopular writing.

Cybertronian sweets are honestly such a fun concept to explore. The idea of having a mouth and/or proboscis (from battle mask or empurata or other), and how that affects one’s enjoyment of different sweets in regards to taste and texture, or if it’s even consumable by one’s method of consumption. And then the politics and history of certain sweets! Ahh! It’s all so much fun :D

This was originally created for the August 2022 #TFZineJam You can see the full pdf on my itchio page here.

All the ideas and headcanons here are free-to-use. Actually, please do use them - it'd be an honor to see them in other people's art and fic! (if you do, link it here - I’d love to see!)

[iamthecomet]

hey hey hey i will literally gift you my first born to see the dew & cumulus fleshlight fic i am setting up the ritual as we speak i am serious

Hi, yes, hello. I come barring gifts. Good news is: I do not require firstborn children. But I do take payment in baked goods. In other words:

Kinktober Day 12 - Toys/Orgasm Denial.

A little over 1.5k of mostly unedited Cumulus/Dewdrop, fleshlight usage, mean (in her own special way) Cumulus, and overconfident Dew.

tagging @miasmaghoul because I can.

Cumulus finds the toy in Dew’s bathroom. Sitting on the corner of the sink. Beads of water still clinging to the plastic folds. She looks at it. Touches the silicone. She drags her fingers over the opening. It’s vaguely vaginal in look, but feels cold, a little too stiff. There’s very little softness when she dips her fingers into the hole. Silicone clinging to her fingers. 

She thinks of the little ghoul, spread out naked on his bed. Hard already. Waiting for her. The desperate way he’d nuzzled up to her. His fingers dragging along the inside of her wrist, over her thigh. A hand slipping between them while they sat and watched the movie with the rest of the pack. Squeezing every once in a while. Solid and warm. 

She can’t help but think of him using this. Hips rabbit quick as he holds it in one hand. Sweat beading on his brow, as he fucks a silicone approximation of a cunt when he has copious options for the real thing just a handful of doors down the hall. 

She tucks some of her snowy curls behind her ear. Looks at her reflection in the mirror. Lips already kiss bitten. Nipples pebbled against the thin cotton of her worn t-shirt. She curls her fingers around the toy, and walks out of the bathroom. Back into the oppressive heat of Dew’s room. 

He’s where she left him. Sitting up against his headboard. Legs crossed. Cock half hard against his hip. Hands behind his head. Lounging in the flickering glow of the fire in his hearth. She holds the toy behind her back. Sways back and forth a little as his eyes flick over to her. 

“What’cha got?” He asks, pale eyebrow quirking up. A smirking digging at the corners of his lips. 

She climbs up onto the bed next to him before she shows him. Producing the fleshlight from behind her back with a flourish. Dew groans. Eyes closing, head thumping back against the headboard. 

“Lus, come on.” 

“Am I not good enough for you now?”

He opens his eyes to slits to peer at her. He curls an arm around her waist, glues her body to his. “You know that isn’t–”

“You sure? Looks like you just used it–”

He rolls his eyes. Eyes darting between her face and the toy. “Swiss got it for me as a joke.” 

“And you tried it anyway.” 

He deadpans. “Can you blame me?”

She can’t. Especially not with her extensive collection of dildoes and straps. She’d stick her dick in it too if she had one. But the way he’s blushing about it makes warmth pool low in her stomach. 

“How was it?” she asks. Can’t help it. She’s under his skin and she has to stay there. Wiggle deeper. She rests her head against his chest while she waits for him to talk. Takes the option away from him to look at her face. His fingers clench on her side. 

“Didn’t even cum in it.” 

“No? Why not?” 

Dew shrugs beneath her a little too quick. “Dunno. Couldn’t.” 

Cumulus is glad Dew can’t see the way her face splits into a smile. She flicks her tongue out to trace over his nipple. He hisses. She hears his head thump against the headboard again. He’s going to give himself a concussion if he doesn’t stop. 

“Show me.” 

He tenses beneath her. The hand carding up and down her spine pauses mid-stroke. She nuzzles against him when he doesn’t answer right away. She kisses him wherever she can reach. Soft lingering brushes of her lips. She circles his nipple with her tongue, sucks on it just enough to make him gasp. 

“Why?” 

She tugs on his piercingwith her teeth. He arches against her. He digs blunted nails into her back, holds her closer. She shrugs. 

“You say you can’t cum in it, prove it.” 

Dew stills again and Cumulus waits for him to say no. To back out of this. She’ll let him. She’ll toss the toy aside and slide into his lap. Sit on his face. Ride him until he gets misty-eyed. It’s easy, a game. 

So she’s surprised when he pulls the silicone from her hand. She straightens up. Moves out of the circle of his arm to sit higher on the bed, her shoulder brushing his as she settles in to watch. 

He spits on his hand, gives himself a couple of cursory stokes just to get himself wet, and then pushes in. Bringing the toy down on his straining length.  He winces as he does, looking over at her with his eyebrows raised as if he’s already won the game by not blowing it the second he pushed inside. 

“You should use more lube, it might be better.” 

Dew drags the toy up and down his length a few times. He shrugs. “It’s fine.” 

Cumulus rolls her eyes.

“Let me help.”  She reaches between her legs, dipping her fingers into her shorts to drag them through her folds. Already slick. She drags her fingers over her clit a few times. Gasping at the pressure. Dew watches her with hungry blown-out eyes. 

When she pulls her fingers free, glistening with slick, Dew gives a half-hearted protest. She ignores him.. She bats his hand away and grabs the toy, pulling it off of him just long enough for her to stick her slick fingers into it. Smearing herself over the inside of it with a few quick passes. 

She slides it back down over his cock and this time, he does groan. Maybe from the wet heat of her clinging to the plastic inside. Maybe because she’s the one with her hand wrapped around the sleeve. She doesn’t know. But the blush that rises on his cheeks after makes her stomach flip. 

“May I?” 

Dew nods. “Y–yeah. Sure.” 

Cumulus rises up on her knees. Settles in next to him and sets a pace. Slow strokes. She doesn’t squeeze too hard, makes sure he can’t feel the shape of her fingers through it, that would be cheating. But she fucks him the way she knows he likes. A nice easy build-up. Languid for a while, build up speed the more time passes. 

She keeps her eyes on his face–he watches her hand. Dew tries to keep a straight face–to pretend everything he said before was true. That he didn’t really like it. That he can’t cum inside of it. But the little rolls of his hips tell another story. He has one hand on Cumulus’ thigh, gripped tight. Dimpling into soft flesh. 

She moves a little faster, a little harder. She leans over just a little, enough so that she knows her tits bounce in her shirt with each stroke. She’s playing dirty–she doesn’t care. 

The first groan she rips from him is low and ragged. It takes him by surprised. He swears at the end of it, caught in his own lie. She raises an eyebrow. 

“Is it good?” 

“Shut up,” he bites out. Hips jerking up into the sleeve. She could stop moving it now–stop jerking him off with it. He’d fuck himself silly in it she held it still. But there’s little fun in that. He’s coming apart at the seams. Desperate to be right, and failing miserably.

“Come on, Dew. Tell me. Is it going to make you cum?”  She tips her voice towards sweet, sickly. Dew growls low, still fucking up into her hand, chasing an orgasm he promised her he couldn’t have. 

“Lus–”

“You lied to me.” 

Dew whines. He tips his head back finally breaking eye contact with her hand and his cock pistoning in and out of the toy. His cock is wet now. Slicked with his own pre mostly. Shiny and red when she pulls the toy almost all the way off. 

“This is different.” 

“Is it?” 

“Yes. Fuck, Lus.” 

Cumulus can’t stop looking at him. At the way his chest heaves. Muscles in his stomach jumping. He throws his arm over his face to hide his blush but it doesn’t work, it’s seeping down his throat. The shame painted over his features makes Cumulus throb. 

“Is it going to make you cum or not?” 

Dew’s quiet except for the harsh pants of his breathing. Finally he opens his mouth. “Yes. Fuck, are you happy? Yes it’s going to make me cum. You’re going to make me cum.” 

“When?” 

He whines. Fingers clenching. “Fuck. Soon.” 

It’s a handful of seconds later when he starts to tense up. She gives him two mores strokes. Watches the way his toes clench, the way his balls draw up. Then she pulls the toy off, away. Dew wails. Eyes snapping open wide. Body jerking as his orgasm stalls before it even starts. 

His cock kicks wildly, a spurt of precum rolls down the head.

“Fuck. Fuck. nononono.” 

Cumulus grins at him when he finally looks at her face. His eyes pulled wide, betrayal spinning through them. He pants, digging his fingers into her thigh so hard she knows she’ll bruise. 

“What the fuck, Lus.” He pants. He reaches for the toy, her hand. She pulls them out of his reach. “Let me cum. Please you gotta–”

She pushes two fingers past his lips, cutting his words off as she pets over his tongue. Smearing the lingering taste of herself over it. She grins, syrupy sweet and deadly. 

“If you cum in anything tonight, make sure it’s me.” 

[karkatbug]

🦀⛽️🕶️

They've rented a cottage for the long weekend. It's a bunch of them, they're college kids so they lie about the number of guests, of course, but it is the only way they can afford the place. There was plenty of room if people didn't mind sharing beds. Dave wasn't that close with most of the trolls joining them, but he's chill about it. He'd stick with his friends and give whoever looked in his direction an aloof nod of acknowledgment or whatever the fuck. The occasional awkward interaction was to be expected.

What he doesn't expect is one of the few trolls he did know well to pester the group chat and ask for help. The dumbass apparently slept in. He was also supposed to drive Terezi and Sollux, both of which found last-minute rides when he didn't answer them in the morning. He was on his way on his lonesome, which, fine. Glad Shouty McGee was going to make it to lunch with zero complaints, surely, but whatever. What catches Dave off guard is the fact that he's on his phone. Karkat was pretty fucking anal about texting while driving.

Apparently, he's stuck in the middle of the highway. Out of gas? Seriously? How unprepared could a guy be for a trip he had personally put so much effort into planning! That was like forgetting to attend your own birthday party. We're all here with our silly hats, Karkat. Get it together, man.

Dave is voluntold by his friends to buy some gas at the stop they're currently stretching their legs at and make the arduous trip to wherever the hell Karkat was stranded. That's what being physically fit got you, apparently. He eyes the Buc-ee's begrudgingly, wondering how much brisket it would take to forfeit him from his role.

No amount of gas station beef would ever be worth the sacrifice of his bowels, he concludes.

It takes him a bit of illegal jogging along the side of the highway, a few cases of being honked at and resisting the urge to flip them off, and a lot of time (an hour and twenty-four minutes to be precise), for him to make it to Karkat sitting on the roof of his car dejectedly.

He is uncharacteristically silent when he and Dave fill his tank. He thanks him and they're off to the rest stop they planned to meet at.

"What's up? You definitely crapped the bed at about every turn you made today, but you usually don't let that shit stop you from verbally assaulting my hear ducts."

"Just say ears," Karkat mumbles. His bags are darker than usual. Hair messier, frown deeper, brows furrowed and grip on the steering wheel turning his gray skin translucent. Dave eyes the veins on the back of his hands curiously.

"Are you okay, dude?"

Karkat quickly glances at Dave then back to the road, eyes momentarily widened by, what, surprise? "Like you give a shit, Dave. Let's just try to remain civil until the fucking cottage and then we can fuck off to our sides of the forest like some bad re-enactment of... of—"

"Oh fuck you can't even come up with an indiscernibly pathetic excuse of an analogy. I'll find us the nearest hospital."

"Fuck off, Strider! I'm just tired."

"Yeah, no shit. You like, never sleep in. You never sleep period."

Karkat hums. The sound has Dave putting down his phone and observing the other carefully. This is probably the first time he's sat alone with the other. This is definitely the first time he's given him his undivided attention. Something aches in him when he looks at Karkat.

They make it to the rest stop and find out that their friends had met up and left together to accept the key from the Airbnb owner at their previously agreed time. It's not ideal for Dave. Part of the trip he most looked forward to was being on the road with his friends, not fucking Karkat Vantas, but he was out of options and he wasn't about to be a wet blanket about it. They get some human slash troll fuel in the form of sandwiches and coffee, and head back to the car to fill the tank. Dave leans against the side of the trunk while eating his breakfast and simultaneously talking Karkat's ear off about the things he learned that morning, sensing that the other needed a distraction.

Jade's TA broke his tailbone and canceled lab on the day of the exam review, and may or may not have given his students the test bank as an apology, which Karkat is going to appreciate during the next semester when he takes the course. Karkat definitely perks up at that, which is good. A first sign of life behind those defeated eyes!

Dave also tells him Rose keeps talking about Kanaya's thesis which Karkat grumbles Jesus, same here, with the suffering being in reverse. He gets some grade-A Karkat complaints out of that one, which is fan-fucking-tasking. We're almost back to normal.

Finally, Dave drops a bomb. Turns out John dropped out of school? Like, a month ago?

"What?!"

"Yeah, fucking join the club, dude. We're still trying to figure out what the fuck happened there."

"Why? He wasn't failing out or anything! He always had his shit together too. He was doing better off than most of us fuckheads."

"You're preaching to the choir, man. I'm thinking we give him some pure vodka and speedrun getting an answer out of him this weekend."

"I'll hold him down while you funnel it in his mouth," Karkat answers seriously. They snort in unison. It's not that serious. It's sad, yeah. There's that silent understanding that John wasn't okay at all, but Christ what can you do in these kinds of situations but cope with a little humor? Karkat returns the pump and takes the sandwich Dave offers him without a word. They move the car to the parking lot and eat in silence for a moment. It's surprisingly nice. The sky is blue, the morning chill is still there since Karkat has his windows down, and they can hear excited chatter among chirping birds in the background. It was still the road trip experience Dave sought. It was nice. Even if it was with Karkat. Dave looks over to him, and can't get that aching feeling out of his heart.

"How are you doing with school?" he asks.

Karkat glares down at his sandwich. Dave thinks he's not going to get a response, but the fight seems to leave Karkat with the exasperate sigh he lets out. "I'm okay. I'm not about to drop out or anything. Just tired."

"Yeah, I feel you."

"It's a lot to fucking juggle."

Dave nods. They eat the last of their sandwiches and sip their coffees. The smell of diesel fills the air, but it's easy to ignore now that they've sat in it for so long.

"I just wish I was doing it better."

"It?"

"Everything! Academically, socially, fuck, romantically. I thought I'd be doing it all so differently."

"Your romcoms have poisoned your brain, Karkat. Elle Woods isn't real, dude. She can't hurt you."

"She'd never hurt me."

"You'll never be her, either."

"Fuck you! Now I want to watch Legally Blonde but I have to sit with you for another hour and stare at nothing but concrete and play is it garbage or roadkill?"

"Okay, first of all, it's always roadkill."

"Eugh."

"Secondly, I can reenact the movie from memory on our way to the lakehouse if you want. I'll even do different voices."

"That sounds awful," Karkat says with a smile. Dave catches himself grinning too. The ache has settled when they take one last bathroom break and stretch their legs. Dave sees Karkat's exhaustion for what it is, a tired nineteen-year-old who needs to catch a break, and insists on driving them the rest of the way. Karkat, for as good as he thinks he is at debating with others to get his way, stands no chance to Dave snatching his keys out of his hand and holding them out of reach above his head. Take that, you petite little idiot. You absolute fucking fool.

Dave takes his rightful seat behind the wheel and waits for Karkat to begrudgingly join him.

"Before we go, I have two rules," Dave mentions casually when the other puts on his seatbelt.

"Tell them both to go fuck themse—"

"Rule number one. You gotta try to catch some Z's man. It's fucking freaky when you're all quiet and despondent. Nobody's gonna sit with Mr. Doom and Gloom at the bonfire."

Karkat doesn't have a rebuttal, which only proves Dave's point. "Jesus, at least pretend to be offended that I dare have the audacity to claim that you aren't going to be the life of the party."

"I'm fucking not, why would I pretend I am? I'll be lucky if my friends remember that I'm there."

Oh. The ache is back. Karkat's wobbling voice certainly doesn't help. Dave places a hand on Karkat's shoulder and squeezes, hoping to get his attention. He's stubbornly turned away from Dave, looking out the window.

"They don't actually care if I'm there. I slept in and no one thought to come to check on me. Or to drag me out of my respiteblock! They all readjusted so fast. I think they were hoping I'd turn back. I probably should have—"

"Hey. They love you. I don't know where this shit is coming from but all your friends ever do is talk about you. Like. Fondly. Fuck, even my friends got the Vantas infection. I can't go two minutes without someone bringing up how something I said reminded them of you."

More silence. Well, and a sniffle.

"Damnit, Karkat." Dave reaches over and cups the other's cheeks, forcing him to turn and meet his gaze. "Your sleep-deprived pan is playing some cruel tricks on you. Trust me, I'm the king of having Mean Brain Syndrome and silent breakdowns."

"Really?" He sounds so small. He looks small. Wide, watery eyes, flushed cheeks and messy locks of jet-black hair accentuating his youthful features. "I can't imagine you of all people..." he trails off, piercing gaze seemingly looking through Dave's shades and straight into his soul.

Dave releases Karkat's cheeks a little too fast, but the other doesn't notice as he sniffles and wipes his nose with his sleeve.

"Yeah, dude. Of course. It's not all smooth raps and sick beats up in here." Karkat scoffs. Dave gently punches his arm. "I'm just saying, man. None of us got our shit together. We all have stuff going on and sometimes we get so tunnel-visioned we don't see the people around us."

Karkat sniffles again.

"Terezi went with Vriska."

"Ugh. That explains it."

"And Sollux somehow decided the fun van with Fef, Aradia and Eridan was the play."

Karkat laughs. It seems that understanding dawns on him as he nods at Dave. He punches him in the arm as well, none too gently mind you, the prick, but he's smiling again, which is good. Fucking day saved by the Dave-meister, master of unflipping shit and returning life to the way it was supposed to be: with an angry little troll and his volume control issues.

"So yeah, time to abide by rule number one."

"Fine, but—" Karkat pulls Dave into a hug that neither expect judging by how stiff Karkat is at first, which is hilariously ironic. Karkat was a hugger. Dave, not so much. Karkat hugging Dave was fucking absurd, but hey. Maybe they could blame this weird turn of events on the gasoline fumes they've been inhaling for the past half hour.

Dave melts into the embrace. He gets why everyone tackles Karkat for these. He's warm and sorta just... slots perfectly into your arms.

"Thanks, Dave," he says quietly enough that Dave almost misses it. "Seriously."

"No probs, dude. I know we aren't that close but fuck me if we can't trauma bond through the bullshit that is undergrad."

Karkat huffs a small laugh. Dave pats his back. They're about to pull away when Karkat quickly adds, "You're really nice."

"Yeah, the nicest. So about that going to sleep so that I don't have to hear you talk rule, hm?"

"No," Karkat says, jostling Dave for emphasis. He then squeezes him tightly. "You can't dry-humor your way out of this sincere one-to-one with me, Strider. You're kind-hearted and I need to make sure you know that."

Now that's funny. Dave is a lot of things. He's lucky most do think of him as cool. His closest friends call him a dork, but hey, that's fine too. But kind-hearted? His Bro would have laughed in his face if he heard that. He'd then proceed to beat the shit out of him for making him hear something so fucking atrocious. Dave pulls away from the hug with a crooked grin. He has nothing to say to something so absurd. Instead, he turns his attention to twisting the key in the ignition and pressing his foot down on the brake as he puts the car in reverse.

Kind-hearted.

Yeah, okay dude. Sure. Fuck. His chest tightens. He hopes the other doesn't notice the little spiral he's having. He focuses on his breathing, and on his exhale; he's good. All he needed was to breathe out and he was back to normal. Easy peasy.

"Ready to go?"

"Yeah, fuck. I'm going to try to sleep. Wake me up when we get there. Or if I talk in my sleep."

"No way dude, that sounds like some prime fucking entertainment."

Dave checks behind him to make sure no one is walking by. He slowly releases the brake just as Karkat asks "What was the second rule?"

"Oh yeah. We need some tunes," Dave says as he presses what he thinks is the radio button. Music plays, but turns out it's from whatever playlist Karkat had been listening to on his way here.

Dave slams on the brake.

"Dave, what the fuck! O—oh. Um."

It's from Dave's mixtape. He has a collection of his music that he sometimes drops in the big group chat. He never expects anyone to listen to it more than once, let alone at all. Some of their mutual friends were so polite with their responses. "It's so good, Dave!" was always appreciated. He knows how hard it was to get someone to listen to a song recommendation, let alone a song you put out, period, so he takes those kind comments with the utmost grace.

But knowing someone liked his music enough to listen to it again, on repeat, on a long drive out of town. To have his music chosen as the dedicated theme song to a long road trip, something people tend to argue over, debating over which songs should be played, something that he personally takes pretty fucking seriously, breaks something in him. The ache he thought he felt for Karkat comes back tenfold. He realizes it's a pain he's only ever harbored for himself, but kept deep within the pits of his chest, that comes bursting out of him.

"What the fuck?" Dave laughs. His voice cracks as he says it. His eyes sting, for some reason. Why was this like a punch in the gut to him? He should be flattered, and he is, but this turn of events is so unexpected he can only feel emotional.

"What? It's good! Fucking sue me for unironically liking something my friend made."

Dave laughs again. Fuck! He wipes his tears with his sleeve, bumping his shades out of the way as he does. Friend? He's only ever been flippant to Karkat's entire existence! He's only ever complained about his raucous laughter and teased him about his sleep-deprived fits. He's only ever poked fun at his abhorrent tastes in movies and dismissed his multiple attempts at pulling some form of sincerity out of Dave. Kind-hearted? Dave was the opposite. Those words should be used to describe Karkat, if anything.

"Uh oh. I broke you too. Great! I knew I was cursed."

Dave laughs again, teetering on the edge of hysteria as his song's beat changes, transitioning to an uptick of those snares he loves so much.

"Fuck. No, I'm good. I'm fine," Dave says as he wipes the last of his tears. "You have awful taste, dude. In movies and music and friends."

"Fuck you. Everything you just listed is something I can confidently say I have superior taste in. Your primitive human puzzle sponge couldn't absorb a fine understanding of the arts and friendship the way I do even if you lobotomized yourself trying!"

"Lobotomizing myself sounds like the exact thing I'd need to do to get to your level."

They banter some more. It seems Karkat is choosing to help Dave get over his brief emotional meltdown by acting like he never noticed it to begin with. Their teasing arguments eventually transition to pleasant conversation, then nothing at all. Karkat falls asleep, head resting against the window, his hood tucked between his ear and the hard surface acting as a cushion. Dave can admit, in the deepest recesses of his mind, that Karkat looks cute like this.

He also thinks he's safe from those thoughts and whatever the fuck is going on in his stomach (sword-fighting moths, he concludes) when they make it to the cottage. He parks the car next to John's and looks out at the lake. A few of their friends were on the deck, already unpacked and settled in. Dave turns to Karkat's sleeping figure and gently shakes his shoulder. The other only groans in response, which, fuck. Okay. He's cute is a thought that apparently refuses to go back into those mind recesses they came from. They've had enough of running around on the field and going down the stainless steel slides that burn your skin in the unbearable Texas heat. Those intrusive Karkat is cute thoughts want to stay at the forefront of his brain, ever the studious student working toward a 4.0 GPA.

Dave looks at Karkat, and again at their friends, who haven't noticed their arrival.

"Hey," he says quietly. He shakes him again, but Karkat is stubbornly refusing to open his eyes. Fine by him. Dave unbuckles his seatbelt and leans over. "Hey, Karkat," he repeats. No response. Dave squeezes his shoulder and experiences the most pathetic attempt at someone wriggling away from his grasp ever. A fucking toddler could fight him off better.

Karkat frowns as he's gently jostled from his slumber. His pouting lips are a little dry from the air conditioning, but his cheeks are plump and rosy from his hour-long slumber. Dave finds he can't stop himself from trying to find out what it feels like. He uses the back of his index finger to caress the skin and confirms with some degree of glee that it's exactly what he thought it'd be. Smooth and warm and inviting. Without a second thought, he leans over and presses his lips to Karkat's cheek.

Eyes fly open. Long lashes flutter and incoherent sounds of confusion escape dry lips, but Dave isn't processing any of it. He couldn't if he tried. His heart is hammering so loudly in his chest that it feels like his brain produced white noise just to protect his eardrums from it. He's out of the car in an instant, telling Karkat that they made it and he'd see him around before shutting the door behind him and rushing inside to meet with his friends.

Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuck.

"Hey! You made it in one piece!" John laughs.

Dave jumps and whips around to the voice.

"Yeah, more or less," Dave nods, trying his damnest to seem nonchalant. His friends are in the kitchen, distracted with lunch preparations. He hovers for a bit, catching them up to speed on the ride: totally boring and uneventful, by the way, (I didn't just kiss Karkat and run away), and tries to offer his assistance wherever possible. He's only met with polite rejection and a mean smack to the back of his hand for trying to snack on some of the appetizers. Eventually, he is dismissed to collect his belongings from the living room since the couches are claimed by two. He's instructed to put his overnight bag in the one bedroom they have left, a single Twin XL bed.

"Hey, sorry I tried to save you a spot with us but everyone sort of first come first served the place," John says with an apologetic shrug. "You and Karkat are gonna have to share."

Fuck.

[gintrinsic-writing]

Trust, and Its Destruction

CW: violence

--

Lightning streaked across the sky amid black, cascading clouds. Where it struck, no living thing remained. 

“Fall back!” Warriors roared over the clamor—over hungry gibdos’ screeching, thunderous booms, and ringing steel. Burn marks covered nearly half of his torso. They promised to be lethal if not treated soon. “Four! Fall back!”

But how could he? How could Four simply run when it was a friend—a brother—whose blood fed the darkness they faced? Never again, came the thought, and it echoed in his mind four separate times. 

Eyes flashing violet, Four slashed through the belly of the nearest monster, then raced toward the center of the courtyard. Fire singed his hair as dodged magical attacks, and he struggled to breathe through all the smoke. Not thirty feet to his left, Wind tried to drag Legend’s unconscious body away from the mayhem. Time covered them, dimly lit by Nayru’s Love. Even from a distance, Four thought he could make out Legend’s left lung in the crater of his chest. 

“Four, you can’t save him!” It was Sky, this time, who called for a retreat. Sky, who fought swiftly and brutally, but who couldn’t last against the sheer numbers sent their way. Defending Sky’s back, drenched in the blood of monsters, Twilight snarled like the wolf he was as he decapitated a bokoblin. Wild was nowhere to be seen.

Can’t save him, can’t save him, can’t save him! It lingered like a curse, a seed sprouting past and present failures, dooming Four to grief before he even had a chance to make a difference. Still, he didn’t let it stop him. He slashed his way to the courtyard, using the Roc’s Feather to leap past debris in the way. Forks of lightning struck at his heels, near-deafening in their proximity.  Four ran, and he stabbed, and he hoped, and then he came face-to-face with the person at the center of it all. 

Sparks ignited above each of Hyrule's fingers as he prepared another devastating attack. His sword still dripped with Legend’s blood. 

“Snap out of it!” Four pleaded. “I know you’re still in there, Hyrule!”

Hyrule paused, tilting his head to one side. His dispassionate eyes stared from within a haze of dark power. “It makes no difference,” he said simply. Uhurried, unbothered.

“It makes all the difference!” Four argued, unable to keep from flinching when he heard Warriors cry out in pain from somewhere behind him. “You aren’t Ganon’s puppet. Fight him! I know you can.”

Hyrule smiled, and somehow that was worse than the emptiness he’d shown before. “I’d always thought that my blood could revive the King of Evil…” Suddenly, the sparks above his fingers erupted into white-hot flames. “But as it turns out, power like that can attach to any soul.”

Dread pooled in Four’s gut. “No. No, this isn’t you! I refuse to believe it.”

“Believe it or not,” Hyrule purred, and the darkness around him surged. “I’ll destroy you all the same.”

[cinderella-ish]

Upload Schedule

I've been having a burst of creativity and output lately, which has been awesome! But I start work again tomorrow and I know that'll mean a pretty big drop in output.

I really, really love teaching, but it sucks that being a teacher with a chronic illness means I don't have energy for much of anything else during the school year. Ah well.

Anyway, here's my hopeful upload schedule for the foreseeable future:

Bloom Within Us: every other week

like the flowers and the bees and oneshots for lovers alone wear sunlight (and any non-Furuba oneshots that happen to take over my brain *cough cough ItaFushi cough*): posting as completed (no set schedule)

ichigo ichie and Of Lost Cats and Half-Shadows: alternating monthly (for example, a chapter of ichigo ichie in September would mean a chapter of Of Lost Cats... in October)

The One Who Stays and whatever canon divergence I begin for Fruits Basket Mondays AU week: alternating monthly (similar to the two crossovers)

Right now, this *feels* doable, especially since I have a few chapters already written for Bloom Within Us, but I may need to pull back a bit depending on how it goes (plus I might be starting my masters this year?? so there's that). If that's the case, Bloom Within Us is the priority until it's finished.

I am genuinely excited for all of these fics (lovers alone wear sunlight isn't really a fic, but ykwim) and I have a clear vision for all of them, so it's just a matter of getting the words on the page (always the hard part!).

On another note, I've started translating my own oneshots into French because I apparently didn't have enough projects going on??? And I've been learning how to do digital art and have an Akito-centric project in mind for that??? So those are two more things you'll hopefully see soon! 😅

[trickstarbrave]

yet another bit from the reincarnation au

the first part i posted b4 bc i just really liked it but here it is w a little more context and a little more problems for voryn

more cute stuff to come i swear

In his dream, the sky was unusually clear in Resdayn, the moons and stars hanging overhead. There was a heavy feeling in his chest as he looked up at the sky, trying to force his emotions down. 

A knock on his door followed and Voryn turned from the window. He both hoped for the person on the other side of the door to be Nerevar and dreaded it at the same time.

Yet, just as expected, the shorter chimer was there, impossibly blue eyes staring up at Voryn.

“Could I come in?” The hortator’s voice was soft as he inched closer to the doorway, his eyes pleading to be let inside.

“… You’re engaged to Almalexia Indoril now, Neht.” Voryn’s voice had no strength behind it. “Your wedding is only a week away. You shouldn’t be here this late.”

“Please.” Nerevar pleaded. “Please let me in, Voryn.”

“Nerevar—“

“One more night.” Nerevar’s voice is only a whisper now, with tears forming in his eyes. “One more night with you, Voryn…”

Voryn knew he should turn Nerevar away. Yet as always, he was weak to Nerevar, unable to deny him. He grabbed Nerevar’s wrist and tugged him inside the manor, shutting the door behind him and pushing Nerevar up against it.

“You said the same thing last time…” Voryn groaned as Nerevar’s lips found his neck, trailing hot, desperate kisses down his flesh. The hortator tugged weakly at Voryn’s loose sleeping robes, desperate to pull them off.

“I need you…” Nerevar moaned softly against his skin. “I don’t want to marry Ayem, Voryn, all I want is you.”

“You and I both know you have no say in the matter.” He touched back just as eagerly, pulling the hortator’s clothes off recklessly and letting them fall to the floor. “You need to, Neht.”

It was for the good of Resdayn. If Nerevar didn’t marry Almalexia it would be dangerous for everyone politically. For Nerevar not having a proper political backing, for Almalexia’s rule and confidence in the people, and for Voryn stealing away the hortator and man the people wanted to be king. 

“I want you, more than anything.” Nerevar whispered against Voryn’s lips, and in the dark Voryn could feel the tears rolling down his face, the broken sob in his voice. “More than the crown. More than any of my titles.”

Voryn grabbed Nerevar’s legs, hoisting him up by his muscular thighs, Nerevar wrapping them tightly around Voryn on instinct, before smothering Nerevar’s mouth in a kiss.

“Do you want me here?” Vorym asked as he pulled away, a thin trail of saliva connecting them.

“On your bed.” Nerevar pleaded, arms wrapped tightly around Voryn’s shoulders as he tried to press himself even closer. “Make love to me on your bed, Voryn.” 

Voryn kissed him again, hurrying up the stairs to his room. The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on him; the hortator of all six great houses, sook yo be king of Resdayn, was begging for Voryn to make love to him so sappily, voice thick and honey sweet. Nerevar was still acting like a tender lover, despite their current actions being apart of an elicit love affair.

‘One more night’, Nerevar always said, just as he did after hearing the news that he’d be forced to marry Almalexia. ‘Just one more night’, he’d beg and plead, pressing kisses to Voryn’s palm, his neck, his shoulder. 

‘One more night’ his ass. Voryn by now had long since submitted himself to the immoral nature of their relationship. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t bring himself to care anymore, not that strongly. He didn’t care if he and Nerevar could be nothing more than a secret love affair. That he was essentially the soon-to-be-king’s mistress, only able to love and embrace him in the dark.

Nerevar’s back met Voryn’s sheets as Voryn tugged his robes off, sinking into Nerevar’s warm embrace.

Such a relationship would be poison in the long run. But Nerevar couldn’t stay away, and Voryn could never deny him. 

In his bed, Voryn jolted awake as the pleasure built. He can still faintly hear Nerevar’s moans echoing through his mind, still feel the heat wherever Nerevar’s body met his. Yet, he’s only left both wanting and more confused than ever at yet another dream where he embraced the hortator as a lover.

—

Voryn didn’t see Nerevar for a few days after that. Healers or servants bought him his food and tended to him, but it’s not the same. His thoughts are swirling with ways he could have handled the situation better, what he could have said.

Then, on the fifth day, Nerevar crept into his room in the early morning just as Voryn was reading.

“Nerevar—“ Voryn gasped, moving to stand up, before Nerevar hushed him and came to his side instead.

“Voryn I… Apologize for what happened that day.” Voryn opened his mouth to tell Nerevar no apology was needed, as it wasn’t his fault, when Nerevar continued. “Mostly for leaving in such a hurry. I… I know that probably didn’t help anything. In fact it probably just made it worse.” Nerevar sighed as he sank into the chair beside Voryn’s bed.

“I just… Didn’t know what to say or what to do. I thought I might just make it worse.” He explained, Nerevar’s voice breaking slightly 

“… You and Voryn Dagoth were in love,” Voryn asked after a long pause, watching Nerevar stiffen up. “Weren’t you?”

“… We were, for a time.” Nerevar admitted with a sigh. “Not that it is justification for what happened, but yes.” There was longing on Nerevar’s face as he stared at the blankets on the bed, unable to meet Voryn’s eyes. “I… I loved him very dearly. I still do, in fact. But our relationship was doomed the day I realized I had to marry Almalexia for the sake of Resdayn, yet continued seeing him. And then the Heart of Lorkhan was discovered…” Nerevar sighed heavily.

Voryn couldn’t deny that his heart fluttered as Nerevar admitted to it. Admitted that Voryn’s dreams may not have been just dreams. Admitted that the two of them had something, once. That there was a reason behind why he was drawn to Nerevar, why he craved the brush of their hands, why he somehow knew the exact way his lips tasted long before this… 

Voryn opened his mouth to speak, overwhelmed by the joy of knowing Nerevar felt the same, when Nerevar continued. 

“I don’t blame you for what happened though, Voryn.” Nerevar admitted. “You had no way of knowing Dagoth Ur’s influence would still be there, and you were just trying to help me.” Nerevar smiled softly now, even though there was clear pain in his eyes. “But thank you for your offer.”

“Doesn’t it bother you to still be infected?” Voryn asked. He couldn’t imagine Nerevar enjoyed it, knowing there was a piece of Dagoth Ur still inside him that could be used to manipulate and control him. 

“It doesn’t cause me any pain anymore.” Nerevar answered. “The madness and deformities have been fully stopped, which is a good enough for me, even if it isn’t a full cure. And…” Nerevar put his hand to his own chest, over the breastplate he wore with a pained smile on his face. “I suppose part of me is happy that I’ll carry a piece of Voryn Dagoth with me, until the day that I die.” 

Pain radiated from Voryn’s chest hearing that, his heart aching. 

“I’m right here.” His own voice cried out in his head. “I’m right here, Neht. I’m right in front of you. Please don’t talk about me like I’m dead.” It ached for him to see Nerevar speak so fondly and sadly of their past together, like it was over and done with. Like he wasn’t ready to take Nerevar in his arms again and love him just the same as before. Voryn was alive right here and now--

The realization of what he was thinking hit him hard, almost to the point of giving him whiplash. 

Why, in that moment, did he feel so strongly that he was Voryn Dagoth? Why did it hurt him so much to hear Nerevar talk so sadly yet lovingly about him? Voryn Dagoth was dead. He died in the days of Resdayn, in the heart chamber. He died again in the maddened form of Dagoth Ur that still lurked at the edges of his psyche in his undead state. As Nerevar said he may have Voryn Dagoth’s face, his voice, his power, but that didn’t necessarily make them the same person. 

Yet, why did it seem like the lines between himself and Voryn Dagoth were blurring more and more every day?

[sparkles-oflight]

Finishing my story's 5th chapter vs Having to proofread it

[rcarx]

hey there! respectfully, what the FUCK do you mean you read fic on Twitter? the site that limits posts to 280 characters?? I don't use Twitter and I am. baffled. more power to you tho, I hope you're enjoying your fic!

hello!! i know right! what a fascinating medium for fic. i've been getting way too invested in this celeb social media au that my friend @stayclose--dontgo sent me.

they update quite frequently and the content is bite sized so it's easy to keep up

there's a whole thread here of all the avatrice social media aus if you're interested! thank you @stayclose--dontgo for being my avatrice newsletter lmaoo

[sparkyblizz]

how can I advertise that blackbright is my otp more. I feel like people need to this know this as some sort of Disclaimer before following me or something

[windfighter]

Möt mig i Gamla Stan

Det var ett sammanträffande att de sågs i Stockholm.

Kouji var där och hälsade på en vän efter att ha tagit fotografier uppe i fjällen. Varför Takuya var där visste han inte, men han kunde ana.

”Hatar fotboll”, muttrade Balder och trängde sig fram mellan människorna som stod samlade i baren. ”Varför skulle vi hit av alla ställen?”

Kouji följde efter. Han tyckte han kände igen några av personerna, men det var knäppt, han kände ingen i Stockholm. Förutom Balder.

”Jag gillar den här baren”, svarade han. ”Deras öl är god.”

”Fattar fortfarande inte att du är en öl-drickare.”

Balder vände sig om, händerna i sidorna, och såg på Kouji. Höjde ett ögonbryn.

”Du klagar varje gång vi går hit”, sa han.

Kouji skrattade, la en arm över Balders axlar och förde honom vidare mot bardisken.

”Jag klagar på karaoken, inte ölen. Kom igen, vad vill du ha?”

Balder slet sig loss. Kouji var lite orolig att han skulle tappa bort Balder i folkmängden. Nästan alla där inne var längre än Balder var. Balder satte händerna bakom huvudet.

”Mumin-dricka.”

”Du är en sån unge.”

Balder puttade Kouji innan han tog tag i Koujis hand.

”Fanta. Jag dricker fortfarande inte alkohol.”

Kouji himlade med ögonen.

”Du får nöja dig med Piña Colada.”

”Bara den är alkoholfri.”

Balder släppte Koujis hand och försvann bland folket. Kouji fortsatte till bardisken, beställde deras drinkar och gick för att hitta Balder igen. Det var då han såg honom. Takuya. Mitt i en samling av fotbollsfans. Koujis hjärta slog ett extra slag. Takuya hade inte sett honom. De hade inte setts på två år. Koujis händer skakade, öl spillde från glaset. Takuya hade fortfarande inte sett honom. Det hade varit deras största bråk. Deras slutgiltiga ord.

”Det är slut.”

Skilda vägar. Kouji hade packat sina saker och åkt hem till Japan. Han visste inte vad Takuya hade gjort. Livet gick vidare, jobben fortsatte komma in. Kouji hade knappt tänkt på Takuya.

Bara under nätterna, när det var mörkt och kallt och han var ensam.

Han svalde och slog undan blicken. Letade upp Balder istället. Han satt i ett bås, en av Takuyas lagkamrater bredvid honom, armen över Balders axlar och handen på Balders bröst. Balder såg ut som han skulle dö på platsen och Kouji gick snabbare.

”That’s my partner your flirting with”, sa Kouji när han kom närmare.

Han satte drinkarna på bordet. Balders kinder var röda och Kouji korsade armarna över bröstet. Takuya’s lagkamrat som Kouji inte kom ihåg namnet på flyttade en bit åt sidan och tog bort armen från Balder.

”We can take it outside if you want to”, forsatte Kouji.

Balder sträckte sig efter sin drink, tog en klunk av den. Fotbollaren lyfte händerna och reste sig upp.

”Just thought she looked lonely”, sa han.

”He was just waiting for me.”

”Kan försvara mig själv”, mumlade Balder.

Fotbollaren muttrade några välvalda grova ord på Italienska innan han vände och gick därifrån. Kouji skakade på huvudet och satte sig mitt emot Balder. Balder log osäkert.

”Han var inte så farlig. Jag ville inte vara oartig.”

”Du var obekväm”, Kouji rykte på axlarna. ”...Takuya är här.”

”Huh.”

Balder flyttade sig mot väggen, lutade ryggen mot den och drog upp benen på bänken. Kouji gjorde detsamma.

”Hur känner vi för det?” frågade Balder.

Kouji ryckte på axlarna igen. Han visste inte riktigt. Han drack några klunkar öl och såg ut på folkhavet. Balder tittade mot scenen.

”De tänker köra karaoke”, sa han med ett skratt. ”Ska vi också gå upp?”

”Jag sjunger inte framför folk.”

”Antar att jag inte räknas som folk.”

De tystnade. Lyssnade på människorna omkring dem, personerna som uppträdde. Kouji beställde in en andra öl när hans första tog slut. Takuya sjöng en låt och till och med Balder skakade på huvudet.

”Inte en ton rätt. Jag menar, jag sjunger också hellre än bra men…”

”Takuya har två saker han kan, sjunga är inte en av dem”, sa Kouji med ett skratt.

”Springa och knulla”, svarade Balder och nickade.

Kouji rodnade, sträckte sig över bordet och slog Balder i bakhuvudet. Balder skrattade och de satte sig till rätta och lyssnade vidare igen.

Kouji tittade inte mot Takuya. Han tittade inte mot Takuya med sådan intensitet att Balder märkte det.

”Gå och säg hej.”

”Aldrig i livet. Han kan inte svenska.”

Balder skrattade.

”Fortsätt vara kärlekskrank då. Se om jag bryr mig.”

Balder brydde sig alldeles för mycket och Kouji lät bli att svara. De satt i tystnad. Kouji drack upp sin andra öl. Balder var forfarande inte klar med sin första drink. Takuya sjöng ytterligare en låt och Balder ställde sig upp.

”Jag tänker sjunga nåt.”

”Du kommer dö när du kommer upp på scenen.”

”Finns värre sätt att dö på.”

Balder gick upp på scenen. Kouji beställde en whiskey och lutade sig tillbaka för att lyssna. Balder sjöng lite bättre än Takuya i alla fall. Inte rent, men inte falskt nog för att göra folk döva. Han hade valt Believer av Imagine Dragons och Kouji skakade på huvudet. Han kunde inte förstå varför nån skulle välja att sjunga en låt som betydde så mycket inför en sån här publik.

Å andra sidan kunde han inte riktigt förstå varför varför man skulle upp och sjunga inför publik till att börja med.

Balder avslutade sin sång och bugade för publiken, som skrattade och applåderade, innan han gick tillbaka till båset Kouji satt i. Kouji höjde sitt glas.

”För ett lyckat uppträdande”, sa han.

Balder höjde sitt eget glas.

”Yeah, sure. Skål för ett lyckat uppträdande.”

Han satte sig ner och tog ett par klunkar av Piña Coladan. Funderade. Kouji ville inte veta vad Balder funderade på, men var rätt säker på att Balder skulle avslöja det vilken sekund som helst. Kouji hade rätt.

”Du borde också sjunga nåt”, föreslog Balder. ”Det är kul.”

Kouji övervägde, men svarade inte, och Balder släppte samtalet. De drack sina drinkar, lyssnade på andra som sjöng och pratade om djuren de hade sett på Skansen under dagen. Kouji undvek fortfarande att titta mot Takuya.

Men alkohol gjorde något med folk. Fick deras hämningar att släppa, fick ljuset att se lite annorlunda ut, musiken att låta varmare, människorna mjukare. Kouji var inte immun. Balder såg mot honom, som om han visste vad som höll på att hända. En del av Kouji visste också, men han ville inte erkänna det. Hans drink tog slut och han reste sig upp. Kroppen kändes varm, nervös. Som om han skulle spricka om han inte…

Men Takuya var omringad. Om de visste vem Takuya var eller om de bara blivit charmade av honom kunde Kouji inte avgöra. Takuya hade den effekten på folk. Det var inte därför det hade tagit slut, Kouji hade aldrig känt sig åsidosatt, avundsjuk eller igorerad. De hade båda behov den andra inte kunde fylla, men de hade alltid kommit tillbaka till varandra. Alltid redo att släppa allt för den andra.

Kouji kunde knappt komma ihåg vad som hade varit spiken i kistan den här gången. Takuya hade sagt nånting. En mening som hade förändrat allt, men bara för att Kouji hade låtit den. Koujis händer skakade och han gick mot bardisken. Men hans väg bytte riktning, hans fötter förde honom mot scenen. Hans steg ekade högt i hans öron när han gick upp på den. Takuya såg mot honom och han såg på Takuya för första gången på kvällen. Takuyas ögon vidgades, förvåning över att se Kouji där. Men det var ingen ilska i dem, ingen besvikelse, ingen sorg.

Vilka känslor syntes i Koujis ögon? Han hoppades Takuya kunde se dem, hoppades Takuya missade dem. Han tog tag i mikrofonen, svalde och tog ett djupt andetag. Musiken började, texten på skärmen ovanför scenen. Koujis hjärta slog dubbla slag och han började sjunga.

”Smaken av kyssar som dröjer kvar, dröjer kvar. Luften vibrerar av du och jag, du och jag här.”

Kouji försökte titta på allt utom Takuya, men plötsligt var Takuya det enda som existerade i hela världen. Koujis blick var fast, som klistrad. Hans röst darrade, tog tonerna snett på ett sätt han inte brukade. Takuya sa nånting till en a personerna han var med, till en av sina lagkamrater. Koujis kinder var heta.

”Jag behöver dig! Möt mig i Gamla Stan nu ikväll, nu ikväll. Jag väntar i Gamla Stan, behöver dig hos mig ikväll.”

Hans mage värkte, slog kullerbyttor. En drink för många, rädsla. Vad skulle Takuya säga, göra, känna? Kouji visste inte ens vad han själv kände.

”Rädslan jag bar är sen länge död, länge död.”

Två år hade han haft på sig att smälta Takuyas önskan, förslag. Det som hade ändrat allt. Han var redo att testa nåt nytt, att ta ansvar på en ny nivå, så länge Takuya var vid hans sida. Han hoppades att det inte bara var alkoholen som fick honom att känna så, att han inte skulle ändra sig när morgonen kom.

”Stoppa en taxi, kapa ett tåg eller spring allt du orkar hit, bara ta dig hit. Möt mig i Gamla Stan, nu ikväll.”

Takuya gick närmare scenen. Kouji’s mage kändes tung, hans kinder brann. Vad skulle han säga? Vad skulle Takuya säga? Skulle de börja om igen, skrika, kyssas, älska? Hata? Kouji tog ett steg bakåt. Varför gick han upp på scenen?

”Som en skugga av den jag trott jag va’, nu börjar jag förstå, jag behöver dig.”

Koujis röst darrade. Han tog ett fastare grepp om mikrofonen. Hans hand darrade också. Takuya stannade. Såg på honom. Kouji sjöng refrängen, outrot. Folk applåderade, hurrade, och Takuya gick mot scenen igen. Kouji backade. Släppte mikrofonen och flydde.

--------

Kouji disappeared. Away from the stage, into the crowd and out. Takuya tried to hurry after him, but hands grabbed at him, held him back.

”I don’t have time”, he said. ”I need to…”

”Where are you going, handsome?”

Takuya broke free, but someone else grabbed him. It was useless. Kouji had probably gone up in smoke by now if Takuya knew him. Two years without a word, then this. Takuya let out a sigh. It was his fault, he shouldn’t have said anything. But Junpei and Izumi had seemed so happy with their kids and Takuya always spoke before he thought.

”When are we getting some?” he had asked. Like an idiot, and Kouji had exploded. And Takuya exploded. And then it was over. Kouji deserved better and Takuya hadn’t tried to hunt him down, contact him, reach out. But the nights had been lonely, the days had been cold.

A hand grabbed Takuya’s and dragged him towards the door.

”He’s a fucking idiot”, the owner of the hand said. ”Bet you don’t even know where Gamla Stan is.”

Takuya shook his head. The handowner shook theirs.

”Absolute idiots. The both of you. He’ll be at the harbor, probably thinking about joining one of the ships.”

Takuya was pulled into the night. His jacket still left inside. He wouldn’t see that one again he guessed.

”This street down to the water, then to the left. He’ll be easy to miss.”

They gave him a shove. Takuya turned towards them.

”Who are you?”

”Balderdash, my friends call me Balder. You may call me Your Majesty.”

Takuya snorted. Balder put a hand over his face and shook it.

”Go. He’s waiting for you.”

[a/n: If I knew Japanese I’d change the language AGAIN here, but alas I do not so English it is]

Takuya went. The night was warm. Loud. Lots of people still out and about. It was the middle of July, the height of summer. There had been a friendly game of football between Sweden and Japan, which Sweden had lost, and which was the reason Takuya was in Sweden. The thought of meeting Kouji there? Hadn’t even crossed his mind. Why would Kouji be in Sweden of all places?

But Kouji was here. Waiting for him, if Balder was right. Takuya hurried his steps, down the street, too the water. The water was still, a few boats crossing it. Takuya turned left and started running. Would he recognize the harbor? Boats were parked all along the sidewalk and he felt like he was already there.

The sidewalk got wider, opened up to almost look like a townsquare. There was a statue in the middle of it, a shadowy figure next to it. Looking out at the boats, shifting their weight from one foot to the other. Takuya slowed his steps. Kouji. What was he going to say? What would Kouji said? Kouji turned towards him, hands in his pockets, and Takuya stopped.

”...Didn’t know you knew Swedish”, he said.

”It doesn’t come up in conversation often”, Kouji answered.

He seemed nervous. Kicked the ground. Takuya put his hands in his pockets.

”I don’t know Swedish though”, he said.

Kouji laughed, but it died out again.

”I shouldn’t have”, he said. ”I’m a bit drunk.”

Silence. It seemed to stretch into eternity. Takuya scratched his arm.

”Sorry”, he said. ”I shouldn’t have… I should have thought before I spoke.”

He wasn’t sure Kouji remembered the fight, what had led up to it, but Kouji shook his head.

”I shouldn’t have shot it down”, Kouji answered.

He walked over to a edge of the harbor, sat down. Takuya sat down next to him. A swan crossed the water, disappeared under a bridge. They had never been nervous around each other before. Takuya didn’t like it, but what if he scared Kouji away for another 2 years?

”I never needed a kid to be happy”, Takuya said. ”I was happy with you. With how everything worked between us.”

”Yeah…” Kouji looked at the water. ”Did you mean it though? Did you want one?”

Takuya considered. He wasn’t sure. It had always been a goal in life. Get married, have kids, be a good member of society. Junpei and Izumi seemed to enjoy it. The kids were great. Takuya looked at his hands.

”I should, shouldn’t I?” he asked.

”We never did what we should”, Kouji answered.

He was right. Kouji was always right. Takuya looked at the sky instead. Cloudy, the moon peeking out between the clouds.

”I think I do”, he said. ”Eventually, when my career has calmed down. Or if you stay at home for longer. Not right now, but later.”

”I don’t think I would be a good parent”, Kouji said. ”I don’t know how to.”

”I’m not sure anyone knows.”

Silence again, but this time it felt calmer. A cloud covered up the moon and someone walked past behind them, singing loudly into the night.

”What does this mean for us?” Takuya asked.

”I don’t know”, Kouji said. ”I’ve missed you. If you want to have kids… I could try?”

Takuya shook his head.

”No, I… don’t mind never getting kids. It’s fine. If you don’t want kids…”

”Not right now”, Kouji said. ”I’m not ready, if I’ll ever be.”

”That’s fine.”

Takuya stood up, held a hand out to Kouji.

”Are you coming back home?” he asked.

”I’ve got a trip to Finland coming up”, Kouji stood up as well. ”Maybe after that.”

”That’s all I ask for”, Takuya answered.

He grabbed Kouji’s hand, pulled him closer and got up on his toes, kissed him. Kouji wrapped his free arm around Takuya.

”I’ll see you at home then”, Takuya said.

Kouji smiled. Let go of Takuya and nodded.

”I’ll see you at home.”

He left. Takuya watched as Kouji walked along the harbor, crossed a street and disappeared among the bushes and trees of Kungsträdgården. He felt lighter. Kouji was his again. He smiled and made his way back to the hotel. The world was brighter, the moon once again peeking through the clouds, and the future was once again shining.

[rkived]

Hey,

I've been wanting to read pining 101 but the drabble links aren't opening? Did u delete the drabbles by any chance?

hi yes that’s bc i changed my user and was too lazy to also change the url on the pining 101 drabbles lmao i’ll get to it ….

[becci-chan]

For the @stevetonygames 2023 Team Past Square "Nope Nope Nope"

[biennatodd]

A Little Party Never Killed Nobody... 

Pairing: JZX/JC Endgame; but it features some elements of WWX/JC too. Rated: M CWs: Alcohol Use, Underage (JC is 16, JZX and WWX are 19), Violence, Making Out, Dubcon (Everyone is under the influence, but consent is given), College AU

|| Part 1 || Part 2 || -----------------------

Jiang Cheng has been pretty sheltered his entire life.

Between his overprotective mother and his distant father, he never really got to socialize with the other kids his age. Even on the rare occasions he was invited to hang out or go to a sleepover. His mother never let him go, and if she did, his father would forget to take him and schedule something else at the same time.

The only exception was Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng’s best (only) friend. Jiang Cheng had aways looked up to him, even if he wouldn’t admit it. Wei Wuxian was one of the cool kids. All of the older kids liked him--he was really smart and always knew what to say to make everyone laugh. And yet he always stuck with Jiang Cheng. The two of them were inseparable.

Or at least, that’s what he used to think.

As they grew up together, he started to wonder if that was actually true. 

Wei Wuxian was a few years older than him, and he was smart enough to skip grades. In fact, he could’ve graduated high school 2 years early. But instead, he waited. For Jiang Cheng. Jiang Cheng worried that he was holding his friend back, but Wei Wuxian just ruffled his hair and promised he’d never want to leave his didi behind anyway. 

And that’s how Wei Wuxian ended up graduating high school with an Associates Degree, easily overshadowing Jiang Cheng, who’d be his class’s valedictorian. But it’s okay! Jiang Cheng didn’t mind. What he minded was that Wei Wuxian had gone off and made a bunch of new friends while Jiang Cheng was busy playing catch up. New college friends. Ones that Jiang Cheng didn’t know. Like that “Lan Zhan~”. Sure! They could probably get along if he tried. But that was the thing! Jiang Cheng didn’t WANT to try. He was.. jealous.  

Which is what led to him being here: sulking in the corner of some cool college party, out WAY past his curfew, and waiting for Wei Wuxian to remember that he exists.

Until a cool cup of something presses against his chest. 

Jiang Cheng looks up at whoever has deigned to invade his personal space with a scowl, which only deepens upon seeing Jin Zixuan. “What’s this supposed to be, peacock?” 

“A sign to lighten up. your attitude will sink the entire party if left unattended.”

“If that was supposed to be a joke.. it wasn’t funny.” Jiang Cheng side-eyes him.

See, the Jins’ were an old family friend of the Jiangs’, and Jin Zixuan had dated Jiang Yanli for so long that he was practically a part of the family himself. So much so that even after he and Yanli broke up, he still would come around, the two of them able to maintain their “friendship”. Of course it didn't matter that he and Yanli were still friends, or that she didn't seem too hurt by the way things ended. Wei Wuxian said that they HAD to hate "the peacock" for dumping a-jie. It was practically their job! 

A shame, because Jiang Cheng used to kind of like Jin Zixuan. 

“What makes you think that I would want a drink from my sister’s ex?” 

Jin Zixuan sighs, shooting Jiang Cheng an entirely unimpressed look. “Are you really still hung up on that? Didn’t she tell you that we parted on good terms??” 

Jiang Cheng doesn’t buy it. ”Hmph! Wei Wuxian thinks that you were a terrible boyfriend and that you’re the reason jiejie swore of men forever!!”

“Seriously?!” Jin Zixuan frowns doubtfully, “And what does Yanli think?”

“...”  He looks away with a pout frown. “...Jiejie is too nice to say what she really thinks.”

Jin Zixuan simply has to laugh, and Jiang Cheng feels and angry flush warm his cheeks at being mocked. “Oh yeah? Well then, what do YOU think?” 

“I think you’re ANNOYING.” Jiang Cheng glares at him, but Jin Zixuan remains unfazed, snorting at his antics. Jiang Cheng feels a little better knowing that a vain man can make such an ugly sound. Jin Zixuan still presses the cup forward, pushing Jiang Cheng to take it. Jiang Cheng gives him an awkward look. Is this guy stupid?

“I’m not supposed to accept any opened drinks while we’re here. It’s not safe.”

“What. Did Wei Wuxian~ tell you that too?”

Actually he did. But Jiang Cheng doesn’t want to admit it anymore, feeling weirdly insecure about it. Jin Zixuan just sighs. “Look. I get it. That is good advice. But c’mon! You KNOW me!! You’ve known me your entire life! Even longer than you’ve known Wei Wuxian.”

“But--” 

Jin Zixuan rolls his eyes, cutting Jiang Cheng off and looking kind of done with the entire conversation.

“Do you ALWAYS have to do what Wei Wuxian tells you?”

Jiang Cheng’s immediate response is to say No, hackles raised because of his strong desire for independence, but the question makes him pause. Is that what people think of him?? That he just.. follows Wei Wuxian around like-like-- like some lost little ugly duckling? 

While Jiang Cheng is stuck on the question, Jin Zixuan takes a sip of the drink himself, looking more than a little offended. “There. See? I’m not trying to.. roofie you or something. Jeez. I don’t know what sort of bullshit Wei Wuxian’s been feeding you but I’m not like that. How much more proof do you need?”

Finally, feeling just a teeny tiny bit bad about it (he didn’t mean to imply that sort of thing about him okay?!!), Jiang Cheng is about to reach out and take the cup , but it’s at that exact moment that Wei Wuxian himself arrives.

He slides between them, throwing an arm over Jiang Cheng’s shoulder with ease.

“’Sup, peacock?”

Jin Zixuan doesn’t look happy to see him. At ALL. Even Jiang Cheng has to admit that the situation has become uncomfortably tense. He looks back and forth between the two older boys, both of them staring each other down like they’re already ready to fight.

Jin Zixuan pulls the cup back toward himself. 

“Speak of the devil.”

Wei Wuxian smirks, “..and I’ll appear~” 

Jin Zixuan looks from Wei Wuxian to Jiang Cheng, and then to Wei Wuxian’s arm on Jiang Cheng’s shoulder before scoffing, which just makes Wei Wuxian grin even wider. Jiang Cheng thinks to himself that it kind of reminds him of those monkeys who show their teeth as a threat.

“Whatever,” Jin Zixuan rolls his eyes. “It was nice seeing you again, Jiang Cheng. I guess.”

And then he’s gone, before Jiang Cheng even gets a chance to reply, and he’s left feeling like he’s definitely missed something there. He turns to look at Wei Wuxian with suspicion.

“...So what the fuck was all of that about?”

“Nothin’!” Wei Wuxian smiles easily, rocking his didi’s shoulder just a bit. “Don’t worry about it. He just has a stick up his ass. Like always.” He starts steering Jiang Cheng toward the bar island.

“Now c’mon, Chengcheng... let’s party!!”

[shamelesslymkp]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Glee Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel Characters: Kurt Hummel, Blaine Anderson Additional Tags: Daddy Kink, Under-negotiated Kink, (as in. essentially UNnegotiated.), Age Play, (hints thereof), sexual age play, Oral Sex, Deepthroating, Humiliation, (gentle humiliation), slutshaming as kink, Kink Exploration Summary:

in which a joke becomes much, much more.

inspired by a prompt from tumblr user likearumchocolatesuffle, who suggested 'first time Kurt realized he found [kink of your choice] erotic'

[innitnotfound]

What is your guilty pleasure?

Every pleasure is a guilty pleasure when you live your entire life after cringe culture /hj

But honestly, too fucking many to name tbh. Like they're not morally bad or anything, just.... Odd. Hence the reason they're guilty pleasures.

One thing I WILL admit to tho is having mcsm episode 6/mcsm episode 6 yter/mcsm episode 6 adjacent yter brainrot. I've had it for years now, and that goddamn r/imsorryjon esque au is proof