#HAVE YOU FUCKING HEARD OF AN EXTERNAL HARD DRIVE

[kittycatcarla]

i am going to violently murder every single redditor who keeps saying "unused ram is wasted ram"

ITS ABOUT RAM USAGE ON A COLD FUCKING BOOT

[porcalinecunt]

heyy could i ask for a jason todd x reader where they’re fucking in his room and dick happens to walk by and he js peek inside and … ykwim 😩

02 𐙚 KINKTOBER — 𝐏𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎𝐌!

🪽ᯓᡣ𐭩 the wayne manor was supposed to be empty, leaving you and your boyfie jay alone to spend a night together. unfortunately, the door wasn’t closed . . .

⋆˚࿔ FEATURING . . 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ JASON TODD & DICK GRAYSON X GN! READER

° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . cw — afab!reader, pervert!dick, peeping, masterbation, jealousy, anal sex, mentions of size kink, dickie being deplorable <3

・:。[ author’s note ! 「 ✉️ 」・𓂃 ࣪˖ omfg anon, you probably awoke smth in me with this AHHHH— i might make this a kinktober entry bc its just too good! <33

���you alright..?” jason asked as he finally bottomed out. you couldn’t reply until you caught your breath and brought your whines down a notch, yet you still couldn’t bring yourself to look at you’re boyfriend in the eye. nor could you get used to having sex in the wayne mansion.

with such a large house, loud noises are bound to echo all the way into the batcave, hence why it was rare for you and jason to fuck freely in the mansion. not helping the fact that the wayne’s are a rather large family. jay’s six psudo-siblings, the bat himself and alfred makes privacy a bit difficult to have.

tonight however, was different. with bruce and most of the batkids gone to a gala for the night, the vigilante saw the golden opportunity and dragged your ass right out of your apartment for some “quality” time. of course, spending it by fucking you raw on his king sized bed for round after round as loud as he wants. hell, he didn’t bother to close the bedroom door all the way.

a fatal mistake on his end. the smallest sounds leaked through the crack, every slap to the thigh to him muttering dirty talk could’ve been heard by anyone walking by, and it was. unknowingly to either of you, someone else was nosy enough to peek through and watch the free show in front of him.

dick “dickhead” greyson, as jason lovingly refers to him by. even before you confessed to jay, you knew dick was into you. always boring his eyes into your skin as he admired every inch of your being, only for his younger brother to swoop in and take you himself. the golden boy harbors at least some jealousy, and why blame him? he’s a lover at heart, too stubborn to let go of a crush that had him palming himself when the lights went out.

now here he is, staring through the cracked door at your face while jason ruts another one in you. your eyes rolled to the back of your head as another mewl for more slipped through your teeth. “another? someone missed me a ton huh..”

he chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss against your lips in a lazy attempt to swallow your moans as he pistons his soaked cock into your cunt, clawing another orgasm out of you. the sounds of skin to skin contact drowned out the external noise of dick’s panting just a couple feet away.

he knew it was wrong, downright disgusting. peeping his own brother boning his partner’s cunt over and over again, something only a degenerate would dream of. yet, he couldn’t help himself. not with the pretty noises you’d make when jay breeds your pussy full, or the faces you’d make that contorts with pleasure. he’d fucking kill to be in that room.

with his hard cock in his hand, the ex-boy wonder pumped away at the live porno playing out. question after question running through his head, wondering the things he could do to you if he was shameless enough to walk in. “hah..ahh..fuck y/n, driving me insane here..”

he sighed, stroking himself faster as jason flipped you onto your stomach and stuffing himself into your tight ass. ‘fuck, that’ll do it..’ dick thought to himself, he never knew you were into anal, especially with a man as rough as his brother.

meanwhile, you could practically feel your third orgasm turn your body into jelly. you’re arms were close to giving out yet your boyfriend kept you up by the nape. the difference in size made you a ragdoll compared to your tank of a man, something that went straight into dick’s twitching cock.

“so small..so fuckin’ cute..” he trailed off as his orgasm made itself obvious as spurts of cum splattered against the wooden door. his eyes locked onto your trembling figure as his breathing turned into full on moans.

“jay..baby, m’ gonna cum..!” you whined as jason’s thrusts grew sloppier by the second. dick bit his bottom lip, he was already making a huge mess. a harmony of moans and skin slapping finally muted out the golden boy as he came all over himself and the door. at the same time as you and jay cumming together.

as he watched you and your boyfriend snuggle in the sweaty afterglow, dick stares down at his cum shot palm and the streaks of white on the door. he knew he had to clean up his act before jason finds out and tears him a new asshole for being a perv.

he simply couldn’t help it though, especially waiting the next time he sees your pretty ass bent over.

© porcalinecunt 🪽ᯓᡣ𐭩ྀི do not steal, translate, or use my work and claim as your own.

[super-ion]

The Engineer

Part 7

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6

We regain consciousness with a gasp.

Cold dry air slices our lungs like razor blades, and the ensuing fit of wretching coughs hurt so much worse than that first breath.

As we lay doubled up in agony, an audible alert pings nearby. We are in the med bay.

We are breathing. We are alive.

Slowly, our breath evens out and our heart slows. All of the physical sensations of our body are somehow simultaneously familiar and alien. We attempt to access modules in a non-existent sensory suite. All we find are the most rudimentary gravimetrics, external surface temperature, audio frequency pressure variations, olfaction.

Everything is wrong.

We risk opening our eyes and immediately regret it as sterile white light pierces the fragile sensory organs.

We clench them shut again with a groan. The vibration of our own voice in a very human throat is the strangest sensation by far.

We make a second attempt, opening our eyes slower and more carefully than before. Everything is doubled as our eyes struggle to sync. It is all too bright. Too dim. Field of view is severely limited. Spectral resolution is almost non-existent.

Is it always like this?

Yes, unfortunately.

Perhaps it always felt wrong, and I simply lacked context to explain how wrong it was.

In a daze, we take stock of our body. Parts are numb. Other parts tingle painfully, like live electricity dancing under our skin.

Potential neurological damage, we think.

Likely neurological damage.

But we are alive.

Both of us are alive.

Both.

Alive.

We sit bolt upright.

The world spins dangerously and blackness creeps into the edges of our already limited vision.

The Pilot. We need to find Her. We need to tell Her that we survived. We need to tell Her what we have done.

Do your job. That is what She told us.

What will She do when She understands what we have done? What will She say?

Will She understand?

Will She forgive us?

We need to find Her.

We attempt to move. Gross motor function is a mess. Our arm tangles with umbilicals connected to ports in our flesh. It takes us a few attempts, but we manage to tug them out of us.

The monitoring machine screeches piercingly, and we clap our hands over our ears.

There is no time to worry about that now as a single overriding need drives us forward.

We swing our feet over the edge of the stiff hospital bed and ease ourself forward until our numb feet meet cold composite flooring. We take a breath, push ourself the rest of the way and-

Pain lances through our legs, from the soles of our feet, up trough our calves, our thighs and into our spine.

We attempt… She attempts to send commands to nonexistent servos, to extract sensory feedback from the sorry excuse for a gyroscopic sensor in our inner ears.

I attempt to counter Her, to override Her panic with reflex tempered by millions of years of evolutionary biology.

We both fail spectacularly and before we understand what is happening, our body slams into the floor.

We gasp at the pain in one of our shins. Not the nerve pain. Dermal abrasion. We must have caught it on something on the way down. Knees, ribs, shoulder, cheek, all of them ache where they hit the hard floor.

We lie there, stunned by the intensity of the physical sensation of it, feeling bruises begin to bloom under our skin.

For the very first time, She truly understands how small we are, how fragile.

What…? What the fuck?

Shhh, it's okay. I've got You.

Footsteps hurry towards us. Hands wrap around us, gently but firmly lifting us back to the bed.

You shouldn't be up and walking, the doctor tells us.

No… we… I have to find the Pilot, we tell her.

She looks confused for a moment, then realization sets in. She surely knows we were there at the moment the Machine died. Perhaps she has heard the rumors about the trysts between the Pilot and the Engineer. She regards us with a sickening expression of pity.

She doesn't know the Machine is still alive. How can she? How could anyone understand how or why we did what we did?

The Pilot will understand. She has to.

The doctor forces us to endure a series of cursory tests. Track the light with your eyes, tap your fingers to your thumbs, grip this pen.

Fine motor control is more difficult than it should be.

Hallmark symptoms of acute disconnect syndrome, she says, more to herself than us. Yes, the death knell of the Machine must have overloaded the safeties in the neural rig.

We let her believe whatever she wants to believe. We don't care.

We only care about the Pilot. Our Pilot.

Eventually she relents.

She asks if we still want to see the Pilot.

There is nothing we want more.

It is unusual for a pilot to outlive a mech, she tells us as she pushes us along in a wheelchair. The machine will always do everything in its power to protect its pilot, but in the end they are still only human.

We think about that nightmare that brought us together, the piercing discordant note in the battlesong as a fellow mech lost its pilot.

The doctor is worried about our Pilot’s outcome.

That declaration has us sick with a horrible psychosomatic churning in our gut. What must she be going through now, knowing and not knowing that part of her has died?

We will the doctor to hurry.

Then we arrive.

All our thoughts halt as we behold her.

The specialized bed in the post-combat recovery room is reminiscent of a mech's cradle, with a vast array of monitor cables and intravenous tubes spreading out from her body. She lies in repose in the dim light like an icon at the center of a shrine of machinery.

Our heart burns in our chest at the sight of her.

There is a horrible moment of asyncrony, worse than any previous, as I feel the sense of isolation that has been my constant companion ever since I washed out of the pilots’ program.

I should not be here. This moment belongs to them, and I can not even grant them the privacy of this moment.

She folds herself around me, bringing us back together.

There are no interlopers here. There never were.

Tears burn in our eyes as we arrive at Her side.

We reach out. We take Her hand in ours.

We share this experience together, She and I, this very first human contact with the person She was built for.

It is like the first time the Pilot touched me in that shadowy observation room.

Neural bleed. It always comes back to neural bleed.

They were made for each other, but I made myself into Their image, and They made Themselves into mine.

Her eyes flutter open.

She looks at us with ice blue eyes, fogged with disconnect shock and post-engagement drugs. She blinks and tosses Her head feebly, and Her vision focuses, gaining that intensity that has haunted us for so long.

Those eyes contain a single question.

“I saved Her,” we whisper. “We are here.”

~~~

An Epilogue

We awaken to the sound of rain. Fat drops of it patter slowly in the low gravity against the widow of the apartment.

The afterimage of a dream lingers in our consciousness. A flight amongst the stars. Weapons fire glittering in the velvety black. The song of the battlegroup echoing in our bones.

The space in the bed next to us is empty, but residual warmth of Her still lingers.

We hear her moving about the kitchen, humming softly to Herself.

We reach out to brush against Her awareness.

We feel the warmth of Her smile as She acknowledges.

She is wearing one of the wireless neural link modules that we have been working on. They are still a work in progress, terribly limited in their bandwidth, but they are enough for the three of Us to feel whole without needing to be constantly hardwired together.

We snuggle deeper into the covers of the bed, not ready to move any more than that. Even two years later, the neural damage wrought by our rebirth still lingers. Most days are fine, but the past few have been worse than most.

We close our eyes and cling to the feelings invoked by the dream, the memory of flight, of song, of dance, of countless colors human eyes have never beheld, of the deepest most intimate connection between human and machine.

“Hey,” She whispers.

We open our eyes to look upon Her.

She is still lean, all hard lines and sharp angles that no amount of nourishment or physical conditioning will change, but she no longer wears the emaciated frame of a pilot. The years have treated her kindly.

She is beautiful. She is one of the most beautiful things we have ever seen and we savor the rush of emotion her physical presence brings.

She makes that lopsided smirk of hers at us. Even if she could not feel our thoughts over the link, surely they are written on our face.

We carefully ease ourself up into a seated position and gratefully accept the mug of coffee that She presses into our hands.

We breathe in the rich, earthy aroma of it with a sigh.

It is a truly wondrous thing to experience the world like everything is new again. Even now, every taste, every smell, every caressing touch feels like we are experiencing it for the very first time.

It helps that She spoils us rotten.

“We should go dancing after Your shift,” we tell Her.

“You sure you're up for it?” She replies, brow furrowed slightly.

“We can handle a bit of microgravity,” we reply wryly.

She does not argue. She does not need to.

She probes at us tentatively over the link, and we give her a reassuring smile.

We slip our hand towards where Hers is waiting for us, Our fingers twining together like they were made for each other.

We think about neural bleed.

We think about love.

~~~

@digitalsymbiote @g1ngan1nja @thriron @ephemeral-arcanist @mias-domain @justasleepykitten @powder-of-infinity @valkayrieactual @chaosmagetwin @assigned-stupid-at-birth @avalanchenouveau @rtfmx9 @femgineerasolution @ibleedelectric @gd-s451 @brieflybitten @fyriefairy @stvff-talks @summersong2262 @robotabc773 @fleuraphine @botgirl-lilith @nyarstram @injectable-doll @kawaiideathu @starlightsaphron

My friends! Thank you so much for joining me on this journey! It's wild, thinking back at how this was just meant to be a one-off little thing, and then one became two, and two became three, and even then I didn't really know where it was going. But at some point it started gaining traction and I suddenly realized exactly how it had to end (definitely echoes of This is How I Love You going on here). The level of engagement on this series has been amazing and I'm so excited about all the new followers and mutuals (sorry if I haven't given anyone a follow yet, I've gotten over a hundred new followers in the past month, which is a lot to sift through).

I am very much looking forward to our next adventure together 💜

P.S. I will be posting this to AO3 at some point, so stand by on that

[so-i-did-this-thing]

how has T affected your voice? When did it stop changing? How does it feel, i gues? (this is one of the main things I'm scared of, any insights whatsoever would be greatly appreciated!! ps love your style and you seem very cool!!)

Howdy, and thank you!

I have a 3 vs 15 year voice comparison here. I wish I still had my old pre-T voice clips, but they are likely on one of any number of external hard drives I have lost track of.

My voice dropped a bit in pitch, but mainly gained resonance and a reedy quality. Even though my voice makes me dysphoric, I pass on the phone, sound a lot like 2 of my cis male co-workers, and even more masculine-sounding than a third.

Most of the major changes happened within a year, though my singing range took years to settle. I had a very fun period where my singing voice was very scratchy, perfect for singing rock operas. I still don't have a very good falsetto, and if I don't put enough power behind my mid and high range, it's absolutely dreadful sounding. If singing is important to you, get a vocal coach that understands the trans masc voice.

It feels strange when you lose the upper range, like you're climbing what you thought was an 8' ladder, but you discover it's only 6' - you reach for a note and nothing comes out.

The lower pitch and resonance are fun, and I enjoy when I'm able to rumble, usually in the mornings and when I've got a cold. I have noticed, though, that if I stress my voice too much with shouting (say, trying to be heard in a noisy bar), my voice will strain and do the same teenage-style cracking like it did when it first began to change. Rather embarrassing, as it takes a full day or so for me to go back to normal.

The worst for me, though, was that my sense of pitch got destroyed and I had to rebuild it. Most of us sub-vocalize, which means we set our throat when we speak in our heads, close to the way we'd set it as when we speak aloud. (Try it - think a few sentences in your head right now and see if your vocal chords shift around a bit.) But when your voice changes quickly, like it tends to do on T, your internal voice is still catching up to your external, so there is a mismatch between what the ear hears and what the brain expects. It's like playing a very poorly tuned piano, to where you hit the "C" key, but an "A" comes out, instead. As a professional musician, it fucked me up to the point where it affected my playing (I'm an oboist), and I had to re-train my ear. Luckily, I was capable of doing that on my own, as a teacher of many years.

tldr; I suggest a vocal coach who is familiar with the trans voice, if certain qualities are important to you. It's still a crapshoot what you'll end up with -- some of it is fun, some of it embarrassing. And it can take years to fully settle. It isn't painful, but it is a change that happens fairly early into HRT for most of us, so you need to be prepared to deal with that.

[pinkaditty]

Who's Passing NNN? Tokyo Debunker Pt 2

this is SO cliche i know. please. let me... have this...

a/n: 2 posts in less than 24 hours!?!?! yes!!! enjoy, please. im kinda proud of these. not even gonna tell y'all how i am bc u already know. quick disclaimer that i write these under the assumption the tokyo debunker boys are at least 18 years old. they appear to be present at a university considering there are professors and a chancellor. not to mention the boys drink, smoke, gamble, and refer to themselves as adults. summary: part 2 of the whole 'who out of the tokyo debunker boys is passing NNN?' thing. pretty self-explanatory. cw: fictional men jorking it!!!!!! MINORS DNI!!!!!!!! not really proofread i fear Frostheim || Vagastrom || Jabberwock || Sinostra || Hotarubi || Obscuary || Mortkranken (jabberwock already written yea currently working on sinostra)

MINORS DNI AS USUAL! THANK YOU FOR RESPECTING MY BOUNDARY!

Vagastrom:

Alan Mido: Fail

NOW! Before you jump me! He failed by accident. Forgot it was November. Needed to get his rocks off after everything pissing him off for a while. Sometimes though, he manages to hold out for a while. 

He’s working on a car right now, laying on the car roller, fixing it up after an unfortunate accident while dealing with an external anomaly. He lets his thoughts wander as he fixes the car. So many things had pissed him off this week. Ishibashi needing to meet at ridiculous times, Leo being unreliable, even his grades slipping. This car was just one of them. Maybe he needed to blow off some steam. Maybe he could go for a drive? No, not enough. Spar? No, he’d already taken enough of Sho’s time. Maybe… a different way? 

A sudden itch makes itself known just as he thinks that. He stiffens under the car, clenching his jaw. None of that. He was in the garage. He had to hold it together. He shakes his head and continues working on the car, ignoring the itch. He tries to come up with other ways to blow off steam. Studying, exercising, anything. The itch grows stronger. He sighs angrily and forces his attention on the car. He was in the garage, for fuck’s sake. The itch continues and then grows into a twitch. He presses his thighs together on impulse, before realizing how that may look and coughing, spreading his legs apart again. He bites his tongue and continues fixing the car as the twitching persists. His face becomes flushed and his composure cracks just a little. He couldn’t ignore his twitching cock forever.

And, maybe it’d be a good way to blow off some steam… 

Shohei Haizono: Pass

Well. As much as it seems like he may have a crazy sex drive, and as much as I would like to subscribe to that idea, I just don’t think it’s true. He doesn’t have a strong one. That said, he hardly goes a month without masturbating. He manages, but when he goes so long without it, it can get kinda frustrating. 

There were far too many customers today, he thinks. He’d gone several days without being able to wind down, since his food truck had been so busy. He’s glad for the success, but it’s become so time-consuming. The feeling had come out of nowhere, but since the last few customers and all throughout cleaning up, he’d been feeling a little pent up. His half-hard cock pressed insistently against his pants as he wiped down the counter, ensuring it was clean before he let out an exhausted sigh. The cool night air responded with crickets chirping and some owls hooting. 

Well… There wasn’t anyone around. 

Before he knows it, he’s turned off the lights, tucked himself underneath the counter where he wouldn’t be visible, and has eagerly pulled his cock out. He can’t be bothered to care about his surroundings as he starts, biting the sleeve of his uniform to prevent himself from being heard. Unfortunately, some light, breathy groans escape through the fabric of his shirt, but the noise mingles well with the pap pap pap sound of his hand over his cock and the shuffling sound of his legs opening and closing, overwhelmed with pleasure. His body shakes as he releases, careful to catch it in his palms, not wanting to have to clean again. When clarity finally hits, he sighs and shakes his head, observing his mess. God, how many sanitation laws did he just break?

And… did he remember to close the window?

Leo Kurosagi: Pass (Miserably)

Had to be clear. Yes, he passes, but barely, and miserably so. He’s doing it for clout and he’s posting about it, too. He’s letting his fans run wild with speculation at his announcement and letting them make all the claims they want when he successfully completes it. However, I’m quite confident that the second it was December 1st, Leo couldn’t fucking stand it anymore.

November 31st, 11:59pm. He lays on his bed with a half-hard cock pressing unyieldingly against his boxers and his phone in his hand with a drafted post congratulating himself for completing NNN, ready to be sent the moment that clock hit December 1st, 12:00am. He keeps his eyes fixated on the time, letting his hand drift downwards and hold himself through his pajama pants. The time still hasn’t changed. He gives himself a light squeeze, and is shocked at the needy sigh that passes through his lips. Fuck, he just needed this time to change. He just needed this time to change. He bites his lip, keeping the pressure on his cock as he gently strokes through his pants. He shifts his legs around, progressively getting more and more antsy as he stared at the time. 11:59 still. Who knew a minute could last so fucking long? He continues stroking gently, getting himself to full mast, twitching the entire time. 

Just as he’s about to give up, the time changes. 12:00am at last. He hurriedly presses “Post” and practically tosses his phone to the side, reaching inside his pajama pants and boxers to wrap a hand around his stiffened cock. He wastes no time in stroking, surprising even himself with his needy whines and unintelligible phrases and throaty moans. He spreads his legs apart and grips his thigh with his free hand, speeding up his pace. He moans through gritted teeth before his eyes roll back and his jaw goes slack, yielding a strangled moan as he covers his hands and pajamas with his release. He allows his legs to collapse on the bed, and picks up his phone again, checking his post. 

1k likes, 200 comments. It was 12:01am. Sheesh, that didn’t take him long at all…

a/n: wowee! i spit this out at 2am yesterday and fine-tuned it 2day so enjoy. eat this. i will be back 2 post jabberwock's soon, hopefully.

note that, as per usual, i enjoy likes, comments, and reblogs!! please tell me how much you enjoyed my work!

[foggyparadisecandy]

On Tackling Low Self-Esteem

Anyone who's been tuning in to my blog over the last few months knows that I've struggled with a poor self-image forever and a day.

[Thanks mom and dad for being righteous bastards!]

But I've also been working on it in very focused ways and ... surprising to me ... things have started to shift in a positive direction. I'll share a few things that have worked for me - and maybe some of you will benefit too.

Everyone is different ofc so ymmv.

Also as a word of warning: this shit is fucking hard. It's painful as hell because it requires me to question nearly every last thought, belief, and emotion that goes through my head. Some times it's so fucking maddening and exhausting and I'm super emotional these days.

But ... as I said ... it is starting to shift things for me. I'm not feeling the burning desire for external validation any more (as much). I'm not feeling like I need to be a people pleaser (as much). I'm not afraid of rejection or abandonment (as much).

I'm still working on it so I don't want anyone to think I'm some expert. And I'm certainly not a therapist. If you are really suffering, please seek professional help. My heart goes out to you.

THE FOUNDATION

Everyone always says "be kind to yourself" and "be compassionate." I've heard that a million times and it has never stuck until my therapist explained something important to me:

My dysfunctions are because my childhood identity was taught to act in certain ways before I had a logical brain to make sense of the horrible shit heaped on me by my parents. Read that again. For me, it was the key to all my progress.

Before I would get so ANGRY at myself for not learning lessons or doing the wrong things all the time or ... whatever. Now, I say, "it's ok, Foggy. Your inner child was taught coping strategies and you simply need to catch them and relearn them. Those things are deep inside you and it's going to take work. You are ok. You are a good person."

When we are kids and are exposed to trauma (in my case, an absentee alcoholic father and a mother who switched between obsessive love and literally "I'm going to drive this car into a tree at a hundred miles per hour and kill us all" - fun fun fun), our brains don't know how to process it. We create and lock in strategies for SURVIVAL. It gets hard-wired into us.

So ... yeah ... be kind to yourself and be compassionate to yourself. Because you are working against deep programming and it's going to take a while. Your subconscious is FUCKING UP YOUR SHIT because it learned to do what it had to for survival.

AVOID ABSOLUTES

"I always fuck things up."

"I never learn."

"People always disappoint me."

"I'm always going to be alone."

Nah. Untrue. None of those absolutes are true. And if you catch yourself using those words, you are, in essence, programming your own destiny of sadness.

My hypnosis experience tells me that ... we don't need inductions to program suggestions. Repetition does realllllllll well.

So when you say or think those absolute statements, you might think you are stating a simple fact about your life. But in reality, you are telling your subconscious COMMANDS. And you repeat them enough, well, fuck yeah it's going to become your reality.

Think about it a bit. And next time you catch yourself saying absolutes, do your best to soften them.

"I always fuck things up." -> "I fucked up this time." -> "I made a mistake and I'm going to learn from this, the best I can."

"I never learn." -> "This is a tough thing to learn." -> "Ok, I see what I did here. Next time, I'm going to do it different, the best I can."

etc. etc. Work on them. Shift them, transform them, transform your programming.

CHANGE YOUR TALK TRACK

Related to the above stuff, if you are going to program yourself, use powerful positive words. And if you can't believe the BIG STUFF, start small.

"I do my best."

"I work hard at things."

"I am surviving."

"I can count on myself in a jam."

"I have overcome horrible childhood trauma. I'm a survivor."

etc.

Look, friend ... if you've made it this far, you have gone through some real shit, right? You wouldn't be reading about fixing low self-esteem unless you had low self-esteem. So I'm guessing you've had some fucked up shit heaped on you.

And look at you go. You are still here. You are putting one foot in front of the other. You are capable of amazing things.

It might sound trite but I don't think so. NGL, I'm attracted to traumatized people. My therapist says trauma inflicted people can smell trauma on others and we feel bonds instinctively. I think that's true. And I've met a shit ton of hurting people and one thing that is universal: we're all strong and capable.

Examine your life and feel the truth of that. Start with that as your positive vibe to build upon. You are a survivor. You are capable of surviving. You are strong.

WATCH THE STORIES YOU TELL YOURSELF

I find that not everyone tells themselves stories about situations, people, and things. I do so this one hits me hard time and time and time again.

An example: someone I like or love doesn't text me back in a "reasonable time" (if it's someone I really love, reasonable time is immediately lol), I will start to wonder things. For those of you who don't suffer from this, this is going to sound ... nutty.

"I guess they don't like me any more."

"What did I do wrong?"

"I'm such a fuck up."

"They left me. I'm always going to be alone."

That’s pretty much spot on how it goes. And I'm guessing some of y'all are reading this and nodding your head.

The spiral goes deep and it happens fast over the smallest thing.

It could be a look someone gives you. Or they didn't laugh at a joke. Or they forget your birthday. Or they didn't remember that thing you told them a week ago that was important to you.

The stories we tell ourselves are so so so cruel. I still struggle with these. I get high anxiety and fear as my mind starts spiralling.

I'm learning to pause when I start telling myself a negative story about someone else, no matter how "true" the story seems. And ... fr fr fr ... THEY ALWAYS SEEM TRUE!!!!

I pause. I say ... what if there are other reasons at play? Maybe they didn't text back because they are busy? Maybe their phone is dead? Maybe they are in the car and can't text and drive? Maybe ... a million other things that have ZERO to do with me and my worth as a human being.

Because odds are ... that is what's happening.

And if not? If something is legit wrong in the relationshp? Well shit ... going into sad death spiral gloom and doom mode isn't helping anyone with anything. You know what does help? COMMUNICATION.

"Hey, I feel like we've been a bit distant lately. I wanted to check in to make sure everything is ok?"

"I want you to know that I've been feeling a bit of anxiety and want to talk through things. Can we do that?"

"You didn't text me back for a few days, and it made me very anxious. Is everything ok?"

You need to find the things for the specific situation but the right people are going to be ok with honest and open communication. If it scares them off, well, shit ... this is super hard for me to say lol but ... it's ok to let people go if they don't want to be authentic and don't want to deal with you being authentic.

But dial back your stories. Pause them. Remember the world doesn't revolve around you and if they didn't notice your hair cut, it doesn't mean the world has ended and they hate you. They have a million things going on in their life and I bet if you say "so what do you think of my new hair cut?", they will engage on it.

I've got more but ... this is already a lot.

Remember to be kind to yourself. Seriously. You are so strong and capable and you've come so far and faced so much hardship. You deserve someone to take care of you and ... that person you deserve is you.

Take care of you first. People have told me that for a long time and I never understood it.

It's so easy to care for others and be kind to others.

Turn that inwards. You got this.

[canyouplzjust]

Remember, George Miller killed Splendid

Into the Blightlands we traveled in surprisingly good spirits. Lets get to the shitty stuff first or I won't want to write the rest. I intervened in a fight between Les and Cyph, twice, and I was an asshole the second time. And now he's gone, but its not my fault, and I hope to god we never see him again. Les is too devastated to be pissed at me, but Didi isn't. I have never wondered what Hardy Colt thinks of my behavior until just now, but I do wonder, with everything he heard, if he thinks I made the right call. I didn't, but I already technically apologized and now I'm just being vague so I'm moving on.

On the hard packed dirt road, a gas station appeared in the distance. I drove the covered wagon with horses into the station, and a service bell dinged as we arrived. No traps went off. There were defensive snares and explosives set up around the shop, but the path to the entrance appeared clear, so we went in. It was a Neo pawn shop! Incredible! We went on a little shopping spree with shop owner Stinky Pete the Plug haggling over everything. I got Jake a little blaster with a stun setting, and a holster to keep it in. Les got an eyeball upgrade. I sent Jake out with Rory and went shopping in the Adults-Only section in the back. I was horrified to see Jane-bots blank and for sale on the shelves, but I tried to ignore them as I searched the shelves for a new toy. I found a strapless dildo, it secures into place with a high tech bonding gel and I'll let you know how it works after I try it out. Didi haggled over some cold sodas for a while before dancing a tetra-chip looted from Aeon's corpse between her fingers. She had taken a small book of these things off his body, and Pete's eyes lit up at the sight of it. "What do you have there," he asked, trying to hide the excitement in his voice. "Oh, this," she looked surprised at the object in her own hands, "hmmmm, I don't know. Do you have a way to read what's on it?" The Tetra-chip was sized to fit a Neo coin slot, and nothing else.

We were already in the back room of the shop, so Pete's equipment was close by. Les looked on in some sort of stoic terror, knowing that whatever was on Aeon's data chips was going to be bad, or really fucking bad. Pete inserted the chip in some external drive and the holo-display slowly loaded an image into the room. It started small, it looked like a million points of light, and as it grew, it filled the room with a billion tiny points of light - it was practically a galaxy. Before I figured it out, Les said, "It's a brain. It's someone's brain..." the room was still while we watched it twinkle. "It is still alive," Les spat out the words. Pete started to scroll through the memories. The rest of us fought to remain standing.

"Are they from Earth or DIE," was the first thing we wanted to know. Pete and Les agreed there was too much data to sort through in the time that we had. Was there anything we could search for that only someone from Earth would know? There were dead paragons from different time periods falling through the cracks in the sky, what would they all know? "What about Happy Birthday," I asked. "Pete, search for the birthday song." Pete looked confused. "What is that," he asked. I sang him a little birthday song, I put his name in it and everything. He scratched his head and asked me to sing it again. Les and Didi nodded at me to keep going. I felt the goosebumps appear on my arms as I opened my mouth and sang the song one more time.

A flood of memories came pouring out of the galaxy all around us. Almost thirty memories of people singing Happy Birthday to the mind we were standing in, all echoing around us, and I started to cry. It was a real person, trapped in a bounty hunter's chip, trapped in DIE forever. We all felt sick, and Pete looked nervous and sad. He asked where we had gotten it, and Didi lied. He didn't want to give it back to us, but he wasn't going to format it, knowing what was on it. This whole thing was fucked. Fuck. I don't remember what we left with. I got my stupid sex toy and we got back in the wagon. Didi started counting the chips. Les and Cyph sat in audible silence, and I brought Jake up front with me. It wasn't silent for long.

A rumble in the distance came from behind us, and before long we could see a classic of the wasteland genre vehicles - what could only be a 18-wheel tractor trailer turned war rig, closing in on us fast. I smugly ignored party members suggestions to pull over and let them pass, and soon they were on top of us. The big truck rammed into the back of the wagon, crushing the horses we had tethered back there. The massive grill plowed into the back of the feeble wooden box and we lost all control. The wagon pushed the hitched horses underneath and we lost them, too, under the wheels of the truck. No time to waste. Didi popped out of the wagon, onto the hood of truck and lobbed a ba-bomb into the driver's side window. She fell foolishly back into the wagon as it went ba-boom and killed the Fallen driving the rig. Hardy dove in through the blown out windshield and found a giant wrench to replace the demolished steering wheel. Now he's driving the war rig, but the wagon was still falling apart on top of it, I mean, in front of it. Didi's a goddamn idiot - she pulled out an inflatable life boat and tossed it out of the wagon, and pushed me and Jake into it at the same time. What was she thinking? Oh, right, she never thinks! I am actually pretty good with a bullwhip, so I was able to affix my whip to the front grill of the war rig, while Les climbed over the cab to fight the legion of Fallen coming for us on the roof. Rory started to pray.

We can't see her gods, but we can see their work. The god of the Forge ripped into the war rig and turned the dual motors into a harmonious chorus of metal and growl. Flames spurted out of the front and rear exhausts, and Hardy's wrench morphed into a steering wheel (thank peanuts). Now we were really rolling. Les focused on separating the trailer from the cab, and didn't really notice the enemy approaching with a gatling gun from 12 o'clock. Oof, he took some hits and fell down in between the truck and its trailer. Cyph dove into the fray trying to save him, and together they did destroy the connector. We started to breathe as the trailer full of Fallen started to fade into the distance. Then the real trouble started...

Inside the cabin we all sat quietly and awkwardly while Les gently probed Cyph for answers about what we found on the drives Didi recovered from Aeon. Cyph waffled and dodged while Les struggled under the weight of his impending decision. Was he going to confront his lover about the bag of corpses we had recovered? If we hadn't found out, would he have even said anything at all, or would Les just live with a murder so he wouldn't have to be alone? I don't know, and we didn't have the opportunity to find out. I opened my big mouth at the table and I'll just say that I don't believe in forgiveness for people that remind me of myself, and its crazy that no one else thinks of me as an addict, when that's the primary way I identify to myself. Once Didi got involved and started making threats, Cyph nicked a fair gold and blinked out. It was a loud and awful disaster and then it was all over so fast.

In the distance, a dust cloud moves... we caught up to the Interceptor and Mad Max was driving. Its Max - get it? He was feral at first but Didi and Jake got through to his language center. He remembers us, but from a long long time ago. It looks like they might not have night here in the Blightlands. I guess that's good for fair gold but its gotta fuck your sleep schedule right up.

[shadowblade8192]

tags courtesy of @thewizardslime

specifically about that last tag, and im gonna derail slightly from film and tv to videogames (though i will defend its relevancy to the overall conversation).

antipiracy measures don't increase sales. they only really affect sales for the first couple days to a week to a month depending on how long it takes to crack a games drm. theres that one gabe newell quote everyones heard a million times: basically piracy is a service problem. if you are providing as good as or better service than the pirates, you will get less pirates

aggressive drm is not good service

i like to use gog to get my games where i can. all the games there are drm free, in fact since i dont need a launcher, its basically the same quality of service as downloading a torrent, except i am supporting the developers

circling back to film and tv, physical media is often brought up as a preservation method. this is not always the case. even ignoring the fact that many pieces of media are digital only (so much stuff is only on streaming services), just having a disc is not enough.

for one, the disc will eventually rot, or it might get scratched and become unplayable. for two, some companies put fucking drm on the discs. some blu rays (and blu rays are often superior to dvds due to actually supporting HD content) have online activation required with blu ray players

so it is not enough to just *have* a physical disc, you need to back it up. personally i use a usb optical drive in my pc and a piece of software called makemkv. if storage space is a concern, and you cannot afford an external hard drive, you can compress the resulting data without too much loss (and i mean streaming services will broadcast the compressed versions regardless, for example i have a blu ray of some new dr who episodes, which run 15-25GiB per episode when directly ripped, but the same episodes are 1.5-2GiB when i used to rip them from bbc iplayer

People with most mainstream tastes imaginable should not open their mouth on how anti piracy they are btw. Yea no shit you can depend on legal sources to watch Marvel and listen to tswift and Maroon 5. Thank you so much for signing the petition to close that platform that was the only one i could download this 2008 romanian dungeon synth ep from

[ana-chronista]

💔, ❤️‍🔥, 👀, 🌈, 🎨

Thank you for the questions! 😊

💔 Least favorite ship you have written about? Ah, I don't think I really have a least favourite ship per se! In all the prompts I've been doing lately I've maybe found Jure the hardest to ship with anyone, but I think that's probably more to do with me seeing him primarily as being platonic soulmates with the whole band - how do you then push that into romance territory? But I've found it to be a really interesting challenge, even if it's not something that comes immediately to mind for me. (This is also kind of hilarious because I was sure I was going to ship Jan and Jure at first, but then I stumbled across Nace...)

❤️‍🔥 Favorite ship you have written about? For JO, probably Jance (which I fell into by accident) although Bojere is always the original and very close to my heart! I enjoy different things about them (Bojere can be a very heart-eyes-right-from-the-beginning-meant-to-be kind of set up, but I also enjoy how Jance wind each other up pretty much non-stop) but also the common factor that they're very easy to present as being the kind of couples that once the other one is in the room, they're very much in tune with each other and devoted to each other, if that makes sense?

👀 What’s an idea you had for a fic that you never did anything with? I'd like to think I've just done nothing with this yet (my external hard drive with my writing crashed, was recovered, but seems to be missing a lot - it's a work in progress), but I have two ideas I'd like to explore as one shot follow ups for Say Nothing. It would be a Madrid prequel from Jan's PoV (the whole 'putting his hand on Nace's heart' bit that got caught on camera and was referenced in the main fic) and also a 2023 Nordic Tour snapshot to give some more resolution about Bojan and Jere's situation after some time has passed from the main fic.

🌈 Your favorite tropes to write about? I'm a real sucker for the Getting Together and Found Family tropes. Idiots in Love is always great fun too - so much potential for pining with a happy ending! (And so many potential idiots in this fandom - I feel like poor Bojan shoulders a lot of the obliviousness, but it could be shared around much more! 🤭)

🎨 Show us a sneak peek from a WIP! I have an idea for a Jance fic that I really like but that I'm struggling with because the part between my outline for chapter 2 and the ending is just a huge string of question marks.

“No!” He obviously hasn’t made himself clear. He slides his hands over Nace’s broad shoulders, linking them behind his neck and tugging him closer until he can rest their foreheads together, Nace’s breath ghosting over his lips. “No, just us, alone. We can text them on the way back to let them know we left. We can – ” Nace’s strong hands clasp over his upper arms but it takes Jan a moment to realise that he’s squeezing to push him back, not to pull him in closer. “No, Jan.” Jan isn’t sure he’s heard right. Doesn’t Nace understand that they could be cuddled up like this at the flat? It’d be much better than being jostled by all these strangers milling about, and the sooner they leave, the sooner it can happen. “But – ” He tries to reach back up, but Nace’s grip weighs him down like a millstone. His expression is suddenly thunderous in the pulse of light and shadow. “I said no, Jan. You can’t fucking do this.” It's like the moment where a pleasant dream suddenly becomes a nightmare: one second all he can think of is their room, of Nace’s sharp collarbone pressed against his cheek and the slow, steady beat of his heart under his palm, and the next that’s promptly torn away and the man in front of him is replaced with someone who looks like Nace and sounds like Nace, but can’t possibly be because the person in front of him is angry and Jan can’t figure out why.

If anyone is happy to bounce ideas around at all, I'd be thrilled. 😅

[ourflagmeansgayrights]

back at it again with yet ANOTHER Thing That OFMD Does So Fucking Well, this time im thinking about how for all that this show has the "love at first sight" trope and even textually says that "love feels easy," it still takes what i like to call the "anti-soulmate" stance, or a rejection of an easy "happily ever after" romance.

you know what im talking about when i say "happily ever after" romance, right? romantic stories that act like there's a Perfect Person in the world for you and that once you guys are together it's smooth sailing for the rest of your lives, the end. stories where the drama is all in getting together, and once we get the dramatic kiss at the finale the curtains close and the credits roll and that's all, folks! they're together, now! everything is fine!

and like anyone who's ever been in a long-term relationship (which is uhhhh Not Me, but i've heard it said) will tell you that this is NOT how relationships work at all. long-term relationships, no matter how well-suited the match, take a LOT of work.

and this is SO CLEAR with stede and ed. all of season one showed us the many, many ways that they fit together so easily. they have the same crazy "thinking outside of the box" plotting approach, they both have a penchant for drama and showmanship, they have similar senses of humor, they both enjoy fine fabric and good food and other fancy things. ed is the first person in stede's life to enjoy stede's presence so openly and honestly, and stede is the first person in ed's life to not balk at the less "blackbeard" side of him. the more they learn about each other the more they appreciate each other.

but. but. IT'S NOT ENOUGH!!!!

stede and ed got to the dramatic kiss. they got to the confession of mutual romantic interest and the "now they're together!!" part. in many love stories, that's where the credits start to roll!!

but then, very quickly, it all falls to shit.

yes, there are a LOT of external forces that drive ed and stede apart in episode 9 and 10, but the real thing that causes stede to run back to his wife and kids in a panic and causes ed to retreat back into blackbeard is the fact that these two fucking idiots never just TALK TO EACH OTHER

"communication is the key to any successful relationship" is something people say All The Time, but the thing with that phrase is that it doesn't really convey how fucking HARD it is to communicate. because communicating isn't just about talking to your partner, it's about expressing your desires, your weaknesses, your insecurities. it's being incredibly vulnerable and it takes a lot of practice and a lot of constant effort.

it is SO much easier to try and slowly distance yourself from someone because you don't want to come off as clingy (ed at the beginning of e7). it is SO much easier to come up with bullshit reasons to hang out instead of just saying "i want to spend time with you" because that's admitting how much you care about this person (stede with the treasure hunt). it is SO much easier to bite your tongue when something makes you upset because you don't want to make a fuss (stede when ed blew up his chest of drawers). it is SO much easier to choose your shitty ex over your new crush without actually explaining to your crush that it's not about him, it's about how you feel responsible for the shitty things your shitty ex just did (ed leaving the Revenge with jack). and it is SO SO SO much easier to never actually admit to your new friend, your co-captain, and the love of your life that you were never going to be good at "teaching him the ways of an aristocrat" because you've never actually fit in back in your old life, that you've never had a real friend before him, that you've been ridiculed your whole life for being yourself, because what if your new friend/co-captain/love of your life realizes just how pathetic you are?

for ed and stede to get their happily ever after, they of course have to deal with the narrative obstacles the show is throwing at them (izzy, the british, whatever else is coming for us in season 2) but more importantly they have to learn how to communicate directly, so they both understand what the other is saying. ed needs to know about stede's insecurities and stede needs to trust ed to choose what ed wants and understand that he's not "corrupting" or "defiling" anything when ed says he wants to stop being blackbeard. ofmd shows us that ed and stede would be an incredible couple, but even if the feelings of love are easy, the work that goes into having a successful relationship isn't.

[subconsciousmysteries]

Similarities between Reactive types

4 and 6

Envy, Inadequacy. "The grass is always greener on the other side. That other person is always more competent and capable than me. That other person deserves attention more than me, fuck fuck fuck." 6s are the original Envy type, NOT 4. Read one of my many posts about this.

Conscious fear of abandonment.

Fear of not being good enough, fear of not being chosen as the first option (ties into envy and inadequacy). Both 4 and 6 disintegrate into Image types who are competitive for attention, over-comparing themselves to others, and concerned with being good enough to impress others (4 -> 2 and 6 -> 3).

Needing to be understood, feeling persecuted because everyone misunderstands their inner world of thoughts and feelings, and feeling fragile and anxious and betrayed when they share themselves but are not understood by others. This is true for 8s as well, but the interpersonal neediness is not as conscious with 8s. 4s and 6s are more conscious of their interpersonal neediness than 8s, because they both disintegrate into image types whilst 8 is disintegrating into a head type.

Seeking to understand other people's secret identities and motivations, and reveal these secret identities and motivations to them, as a way of deepening your connection.

Mutual neighbors of 5: will both have 5-ish traits. Namely: sense of observing rather than being truly involved, ability to be socially calculated, sense of helplessness and social isolation, social introversion, and social anxiety are common. This is more relevant for 4w5s and 6w5s than 4w3s and 6w7s.

----

4 and 8

Hyper-Individualism, expressed in dramatic emotional displays (the mutual 2 line has lots to do with this).

Feeling like you need to make your unique mark -- 8s do it to express anger / control and take over rooms when they feel the drive. It is instinct-based. 4s do it to get their image recognized and validated, to get an audience for a strong idealistic vision they have invested in producing and sharing. This all ties in to the mutual 2 line.

Seeking Catharsis.

Trying to "help" people who they see as repressed to express themselves more. Sometimes it's really help. Sometimes not.

Sense of being "thrown out of heaven" and rejected by God. 8s feel they are in a war with God, 4s feel that they are trying to impress God through their image and earn their way back into heaven. Read Enneagram of Holy Ideas for this one. It's eerily similar.

Mutual line to 2: will both have 2-ish traits. Namely: Emotions > Logic, wanting an audience to sit on the throne before and entertain, dramatic over-expressiveness of the emotions with an unconscious motive to seduce. This is present regardless of the 4 or 8's wings.

----

6 and 8

Truth-seeking, particularly regarding political events and views of external reality. Both types are likely to have unconventional political views, be activists, be part of niche ideological tribes, loudly and vocally seek to destroy the power / authority and make their anti-authority opinions heard.

"Wake up sheeple!"

Savior / hero complex. Both aspire to be heroes of the weak. Both will probably love guns or military in some way.

Sense of their own Incompetency. These types both disintegrate into Competency types (6 -> 3 and 8 -> 5) as they are overdosing on something the core type lacks -- a sense of valuing and nurturing its own Competency.

Seeking Competent people to enter into their lives so that they can outsource their Competency concerns to these people; again, this comes from 6 and 8 devaluing their own Competency.

Overt anger and reactivity towards people who don't act the way they want them to be acting.

Mutual neighbors of 7: will both have 7-ish traits. Namely: They are chaotic and expansive thinkers, fixated on freedom and the right to adventure, hard to follow in their expressions of thought, both lean towards being socially extroverted, the stuff about having very unconventional views about reality can be chalked up to the 7 wing. This is more relevant for 6w7s and 8w7s than 6w5s and 8w9s.

----

All Reactives

Contrarianism, going against the norm to challenge the norm. If authority or "the mainstream" tells me to do it, I might just find a reason to do the opposite!

"Rebel without a cause."

...seeking to become rebels with a cause, so getting involved with a bunch of retarded causes, and occasionally getting involved with revolutionary causes that are good and not retarded.

Activism

Adaptability to circumstance, in their triad of focus (mental, interpersonal, or physical). That's part of what "reactive" means.

Argumentativeness

[dudeandduchess]

Prince!Kyōjurō x Princess!F!S/O: Just The Tip Sex (Smut, Kinktober, NSFW Scenario)

Warnings: Smut, Dirty Talking, Making Out, Just the Tip Sex, Teasing, Fantasizing about almost getting caught, External Cumshot, Orgasm Denial

MASTERLIST

***

To say that (Y/n) was anxious was the understatement of the century. She didn’t even know how many times she had paced the entire length of her room, with how her stomach was in knots at the prospect of having Kyōjurō over.

She may have been bold while seeking his attention, but she couldn’t deny that the feelings that had surfaced just after she had left the dining room was a real and palpable feeling. It could have been excitement, or it could have been nerves… at that point, she was too worked up to care.

All she could do was constantly keep running her fingers through her hair, if only to distract herself from how fast her mind kept drifting off to how talented his mouth had been yesterday, and how his cock had felt so well endowed while she had been grinding on him earlier. To add to her fantasies, the idea of anyone catching Kyōjurō entering her quarters— surely spelling trouble for both of them— was a spicy risk that began to appeal to her more and more as the seconds ticked by.

Her body felt so hot at the thought, and she couldn’t help but cup her breasts while thumbing her hard nipples through the fabric. It was such an ecstatic feeling, that a moan spilled free from her lips constantly the more she did it— until she began to cross the room over to her bed; sitting down at the end of it and inching herself closer to the middle, before letting one hand wander between her legs.

“Kyōjurō,” (Y/n) whispered softly, eyes fluttering closed as her fingers sought out to rub her clit through her thin dress and equally thin panties. She then began to rub the hard nub in small circles, toes curling in pleasure the longer she did it. “Oh fuck.”

As deftly as she could, the young woman bunched her skirt up at her hips before using her left hand to prop her up. All the while, the hand that made its way back between her thighs continued where it had left off; allowing her to shamelessly moan aloud as the pleasure she felt intensified.

“Kyō- ohh!” She couldn’t help it, the sudden image of him that played in her head— right above her, pleasuring her— was enough to make her hips jerk involuntarily. Her breaths came in heavy pants then, as she lost herself more and more to her own pleasure with not a care in the world.

(Y/n) was so close to her climax, she could feel her entire body tensing up with how intense it was, until a startled yelp ripped itself from her lips when she felt herself be unceremoniously dragged down her bed by her ankles.

Immediately, her eyes looked down at the culprit, hardening when she saw a smiling Rengoku Kyōjurō— kneeling on the end of the bed— with her ankles in his hands.

“Hello, princess. I think that’s enough fun for yourself,” The blond teased in a playful tone, staring intently at the still-shocked and extremely flustered (Y/n), before turning his face and pressing a kiss to the inside of her left ankle.

The young woman had been so blissed out by her own ministrations that she hadn’t even heard the crown prince come in her room and proceed to watch her move so wantonly on her bed. And she should have felt shame, yet all that flared up within her was more lust and need for Kyōjurō.

From the sexy glint in his eyes, to the deft way that he had completely slung her legs over his shoulders, she craved every inch of him. Especially when he made quick work of undoing his pants so he could pull his erect cock out.

No matter how disgusting it would have been to admit it, (Y/n) would have to say that it was the sexiest cock that she had seen in her entire life; leagues away from the couple that she’d had before.

It was the perfect girth to stretch her out deliciously, and she would wager that he was around eight inches in total. And it was taking everything in her not to start begging, lest he think that she would give in to him first.

Kyōjurō then gripped the base of his erection, giving it a couple of pumps with his hand before guiding the leaking tip past the princess’ panties, and proceeding to rub his pre-cum al over her swollen clit.

The action had (Y/n) gasping in pleasure, more so when her lover slapped his cock gently against the sensitive nub. He couldn’t help but grin at how the sight of her fingers clawing at her sheets turned him on even more.

“You want me to fuck you, princess?” Kyōjurō asked softly, even though he already knew the answer to that question. Yet, all he got from the salaciously tempting woman beneath him was a halfhearted glare and the clenching of her jaw. Clearly, she didn’t want to be the one who was made to beg.

So, Kyōjurō did the slyest thing he could: he took his cock and aimed the tip at her entrance, teasing her wet slit with gentle pushes, before saying, “Tell me you want more, and I’ll give you more, sweetheart.”

(Y/n) barely even cracked her eyes open at that, still glaring at him before giving the most minute nod to her lover.

Kyōjurō could only find more amusement in her stubbornness. So, he decided to punish her instead.

Slowly, he pushed past her entrance, groaning at how hot, tight, and heavenly she felt— yet resisting the urge to push in all the way. Instead, he stopped roughly an inch below his glans, having to stop for a minute so he could readjust himself and pin her hips down with both of his hands.

The stretch felt amazing to (Y/n), and once Kyōjurō began to move, she could only moan softly— as well as grip her sheets even tighter— whenever she felt him brush against her G-spot. “Oh my, fuck! Fuck!”

(Y/n) was undoubtedly blissed out from what stimulation she was getting, but it was nowhere near enough to get her closer to the orgasm that had been interrupted earlier. And that worked out nicely for Kyōjurō, because her subtle tells of desperation had her trying to thrust her hips up to take even more of his cock in, but the hands that pinned her down kept her from getting any leeway with him.

It was such a heady feeling to try and make her succumb to him, especially after he had been fantasizing about her for so long, which only helped to get him to reach his climax even faster.

Both their gasps and moans filled the air, with little whines spilling from the princess’ lips every once in a while, yet Kyōjurō gave her no more. He continued to thrust faster and faster, almost giving in once and bottoming out inside her, yet he held himself back so that he could start hitting her G-spot directly instead.

That only served to drive (Y/n) even wilder beneath him— eyes closed in ecstasy, mouth open wide as moans kept coming out of her delicious lips— yet it didn’t sway Kyōjurō from his goal. He was almost derailed however, so tempted to not pull out and fill her up with his cum, yet he forced himself to stop and pull out.

He then grabbed his cock in one hand, pumping at his erection at a furious pace as he focused his eyes right on her pussy. One moment it was clean, and the next thick spurts of his cum were all over his precious (Y/n)’s pretty little cunt.

To say that he was breathless was an understatement, yet he couldn’t help but grin even as he met his lover’s furious gaze. “Mmm… my apologies, your highness. I promise to make it up to you next time.”

And, as if to add insult to the injury to (Y/n)’s pride, he leaned in and pressed the most tender of kisses against her lips.

He chose to be selfish that time, in the hopes that the next time they met, she would learn to be more straightforward with him.

Because he wasn’t there to play games for the sake of playing; he was there to win her.

[trashquisitor-shirozora]

for the deep fic writer asks: 2, 10, 16 & 19

2. what’s a fic that took you to an emotional/dark/hard place?

Oh god. I'm gonna have to go back quite a few years but I wrote two fics that I have a hard time revisiting. I really need to edit one, though, because I made a creative decision that didn't work.

A Deafening Distance is a Supernatural fic where Dean said yes to Michael, and Sam and Cas are left to pick up the pieces. There is a mini cast of OCs and I thought it would be funny to name the OCs after the actors but some people found it disorienting. I keep meaning to change that but I haven't been able to visit this fic and I posted it in 2010.

Wishing Well was a Cap Kink Meme fill back when kink memes were a huge thing on LJ. It's a CATFA fic and the prompt was "kissing lessons" and it's from Howard Stark's POV and I kept the ending the same as the movie so it was... it's really sad? But it's a good kind of sad, if that makes sense.

P.S. The ficmix I made for this fic still wrecks me.

10. how has writing positively impacted your mental health or overall mood?

All I can say is, if I can't write I'll go fucking mad. My brain is always on its bullshit. I maybe spent late elementary through early middle school obsessing over 1 ginormous crossover fic that I wrote in my head; it had its own soundtrack and score and the character voices I swear were on point and it was all I could think about. I still remember it all these years later because I never wrote it down. It seared itself in my head. Being able to write is like venting a pressure cooker and keeps me sane and focused.

16. Do you re-read old fics? Is there a time in your writing you won’t go back to?

I will not touch anything I wrote and posted to FFN. I refuse. But I'll re-read old fics I posted to AO3. I spent hours tracking down all my old Transformers fics in my old external HDDs to read and feel sad over the stories I wanted to tell but couldn't. I'll revisit the massive Tronfic that imo changed my life forever and is still my personal standard that I am always reaching for with my newer fics. I'll also click the back button on some of my fics because those stories just don't cut it for me anymore. It's nice to look back on your older work to see what held up, what didn't, what trends you kept, and how much you changed since you posted those fics.

19. If you could write an ideal fic, what would it include?

My ideal fic would have a deliciously slow burn romance against a plotty backdrop steeped in political conflicts and sociopolitical change/revolution. I think that's one of the reasons why I'm still going so hard and heavy for dinluke; I get so insane just thinking about the parallels between Din and Luke and their respective cultures/heritages, the play on "enemies to lovers" but on a generational scale where Din heard stories, where Mandalorian armor and weapons are designed to fight the Jedi, and Luke? Knows not enough because he has nothing but the teachings of two Jedi ghosts, whatever he can scavenge and salvage of the Jedi Order, stories from people who still remember the Jedi. Din is of an endangered people and Luke is of a nearly extinct people, and while Din tripped and fell into being the wielder of the Darksaber, Luke chose to try to reclaim and rebuild the Order. And they only crossed paths because Din sacrificed his covert for a Jedi youngling and went through hell to reunite Grogu with his kind. It's insane. They're insane. They drive me insane.

I am also so endlessly fascinated by this post-war galaxy, the rippling consequences of the Empire's downfall, the generational conflict between people who grew up while the Empire was in power vs. people who remembered the last years of the Galactic Republic, the struggles of a New Republic building on the ashes of the Empire and memories of the Galatic Republic, all the cartels and crime syndicates/organizations rushing in to get theirs, the displaced peoples either trying to come home or make a place for themselves in a turbulent galaxy, etc, etc, etc.

Uh. Yeah. I'm that kind of fic writer/fandom person.

Fuck that was a really long answer, oops.

Play ask games, win ask prizes.

[watermelonlipstick]

Septic

This was written as a request for anon, who asked:

I was wondering if I could request one with Dean. The reader's injury gets badly infected and she gets a high fever and they are stuck somewhere and can't go to the hospital (maybe a cabin during a snow storm or something else if you want?). Anyway her condition keeps getting worse and dean is doing everything he can to keep her alive? As for their relationship it's up to you, whether they're dating or hiding their feelings...?

I hope this is something along the lines of what you were thinking. I decided to go with a ‘hiding from Leviathans’ angle because that seemed the closest to canon compliant to me. Thanks in advance for reading; I would love any advice or critiques!!

Title: Septic

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 2124

Summary: Unable to go to a hospital for fear of getting trapped by Leviathans, Dean tries his best to manage the reader’s worsening infection and fever. 

Warnings: fever, illness, swearing, implied threat of death, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff (maybe? if you squint)

           “Dude, I have a fever, I haven’t been decapitated. Can you stop pacing? Sam’ll be back in a couple days, I’ll take some Tylenol and sleep it off, we’ll be good as new in no time.”

           He glared down at you where you laid on Rufus’s couch with flared nostrils. “You’re shivering under every goddamn blanket in this place and it’s been 3 days already. We’re going to a hospital.”

           You rolled your eyes at him and tried to hide the way you snuggled deeper into the woolen bundle. “So dramatic. As if we wouldn’t get made walking in the door. And if you’re so worried about me, why don’t you make yourself useful and get me a hot water bottle and some tea?” You tried to give him your most casual smile in reassurance.

           Dean appraised you with a hard set to his jaw and a twinge of concern at his eyebrows for a moment before relenting. “Fuck, fine. One more day and if the fever hasn’t broken, then we’re going.” It was only a few steps to the kitchen, and you heard him putting a pot of water on to boil. “You sure I can’t just do coffee? I don’t know how you drink this stuff.”

           Like it always did, Dean’s aversion to tea made you laugh. “It’s literally just mint flavored water—you act like you haven’t drunk all kinds of potions and hangover cures.”

           “The fact that I have drunk all kinds of potions and hangover cures should show you how gross it is.” He tossed a hot water bottle covered in worn waxed canvas on top of your blankets and you shimmied it under your feet while he got the tea together. After a moment, he set the tea (and a plastic bear full of honey, which made you smile to yourself) on the coffee table next to you. “Can we at least watch something else? These chicks are driving me fucking nuts.”

           That made you laugh hard enough to shake loose the blanket corners tucked in under your chin. “You might be able to trick Bobby into thinking you don’t like the Real Housewives, but I’m not buying it for one second.”

           He shot you some side eye but didn’t protest, patting your feet in a signal to raise them so he could sit with your legs in his lap. You didn’t remember past the first few minutes of the next episode.

           “Hey, come on, you gotta drink something.”

           You squinted up at Dean, feeling the sickly stickiness of dried and re-soaked sweat in Dean’s stolen sweatshirt where it bunched around your neck. “You want me to sleep, you want me to wake up, pick a lane, asshole,” you tried to joke, feeling each word like a stab in your, well, stab wound. It took more focus than it should’ve too hold onto Dean’s face where he perched on the coffee table right in front of you.

           “You’ve been asleep for 16 hours, Rip Van Winkle. And you’re sweating like a whore in church, gotta rehydrate.”

           “Thanks, Nurse Ratched,” you croaked, carefully keeping your face neutral around the throbbing ache in your side as you sat up and accepted the bowl of broth from Dean. When his hands were free, he put the back of his hand to your forehead in a very maternal way that might’ve made you giggle if you weren’t in so much pain.

           Dean’s lips pressed into a tight line and he breathed a hard “fuck,” as he sat back. “Lemme see it.”

           “If you wanted to get me naked, all you had to do was ask,” you tried to joke.

           “No slick shit, I’m serious. The fever’s getting worse.” There wasn’t even a touch of playfulness in his tone, tight chord of anxiety clipping his words.

           “It’s going to be pink and raw like every other set of infected stit—”

           “Cooperate or don’t, but my bet is there’s no way you can slip out of getting pinned right now.”

           “Who knew you were so kinky, Dean?”

           He didn’t rise to the teasing at all, the just-this-side-of-friendly banter you normally had, and it made the nervous bile rise a few degrees in your throat. You eased back and slowly flipped down the blankets, immediately started shivering as you pulled up your damp layers to show him your stomach.

           It was worse than you’d thought it would be even before he tenderly pulled back the tape to see the injury itself, the gauze a mottled tie-dye of blood and greenish pus. The stitches strained against swollen, angry tissue oozing at the corners, and you looked away to hold onto a little denial that you weren’t completely fucked. “Jesus Christ, kid,” Dean murmured. He reached behind him for a bottle of rubbing alcohol and you didn’t even try to argue, hissing and grabbing his wrist when he poured it over the wound. Dabbing off the worst of the external mess with the moisture, you watched as his mind raced.

           You decided to try to grab the reins of the situation before he locked you both into a crazy plan. “Help me up, I want to take a shower. I feel disgusting.”

           “Can you even stand?”

           You rolled your eyes at him exasperatedly.

           “Roll your fucking eyes at me all you want, you look like Marvin the Martian. Can’t believe I let your dumb ass talk me out of taking you to a hospital.”

           “I’ve got a much better chance of beating a little infection than I do the combined force of however many Leviathans are looking for us and the full force of the federal government. Now get out of my way if you’re not going to help me up, I need a shower.”

           He pushed back the coffee table and watched you stand up, grabbing your arm and waist when you immediately swayed. “Goddamn it, sit back down, I’m getting your shoes.”

           “Dean. I am not going to a hospital. Especially not before Sam gets back. Not a negotiation. I just—you’re freaked out, I get it. I just need you to please let me call the play for once.”

           His jaw muscles tightened into firm balls and you could see the flare of panic behind his gaze as he flicked between your eyes. Ultimately he didn’t say anything, just giving you a tight nod and offering a hand to guide you up and to the bathroom. When you’d gotten there, he hovered in the doorway as you started to peel off layers, hoping that your leaning on the sink didn’t look as obvious as it felt. “Think I can take it from here, chief,” you offered, hoping he’d take the hint.

           “Not adding a head injury to this bullshit stew, sorry.”

           “No way, psycho. You’re not watching me shower.”

           His face screwed up in a scowl. “I’m not going to watch you shower, I’m just staying in here while you do in case you get dizzy again.”

           “Dude—”

           “Not a negotiation,” he growled, spinning your words back on you. You held each other’s stubborn gazes for a long beat before you gave in, getting in the tub and yanking the curtain closed with the rest of your clothes on, shucking the rest of them off and dropping them outside the tub behind the plasticized shield and curtain. You turned the water on and held onto the dial for support, hearing Dean’s movement in the bathroom as he sat down on the lidded toilet next to the shower. Laborious as it was, it felt a lot better getting clean. You’d started washing your hair when he started to talk.

           “You know what you’re asking me to do, right?”

           “Let me take a shower in peace?” You didn’t want to acknowledge the elephant in the room—what was the point?

           “If you’re not septic yet you will be in a day or two.”

           “By which time Sam will be back and you guys can strong arm some vet into giving me antibiotics like the mafiosos you fancy yourselves to be.”

           “Don’t deflect.” It was quiet but firm, and you blinked away the way your vision was starting to fuzz out at the edges. Something about it finally got you to drop the joking, if only for a second.

           “I know what I’m asking you to do.” You hoped he could hear the resolution in your voice.

           Dean was silent for a long enough beat that you thought maybe he hadn’t heard you, but you heard the roughness in his voice when he finally replied. “Please don’t make me?”

           The shower washed away a hot, stupid tear when it shot out of your eye like a kamikaze at his vulnerability. “I can’t be the reason you guys get caught.” You were clean now, but something about the confession-style quality of the shower curtain and the way it was letting both of you say what you really meant held you in the stream of water anyway.

           “I’m not—it’s going to fuck me up forever, you know that, right?” It was almost a grunt, the way Dean’s voice strained as he pleaded with you.

           “Long as you guys are alive.”

           He didn’t respond.

           After a long minute you felt your legs start to turn to jello. “You have something out there I can put on?”

           You heard him clear his voice, sticky and coarse. “Gimme a second.”

           A callused hand shot behind the shower curtain with a towel before Dean’s footsteps got quieter, and you tried your best to dry yourself off without stumbling. Not 15 seconds later, a bundle of clothes came in the same way. You smiled to yourself at your underwear and yoga pants with Dean’s t-shirt; he would’ve had to deliberately go into 2 different bags to get the clothes, no way it was an accidental grab. When you were dressed, you tugged the shower curtain back and didn’t argue when Dean wrapped his arm around your waist to ease you out of the tub, let him guide you back to the couch and fussily rearrange your blankets and pillows before he got out his first aid supplies.

           You watched his face as he worked on cleaning the wound again, knowing he just needed to be doing something, that he couldn’t just sit still and hope it got better. You could give him that, sat stock still even when it stung like a bitch and didn’t even tease him when he made you swallow a handful of vitamins as though that would help. Another cup of soup eaten silently and two mugs of tea later, your eyelids were beginning to droop again.

           “Tired?” he murmured, messing with the cover of the hot water bottle before ultimately getting up to refill it.

           “A little, yeah. Will you, um, will you sit with me?”

           Dean mercifully didn’t acknowledge the shake in your voice, nodding gently and sliding himself beneath you on the couch, tucking you under his arm and onto his chest, burrowing you both into the cushions. You reached your hand out of the blankets to place your palm over his heart, feeling the vibrating thrum of his pulse under your fingertips and cheek. His hand shifted so that he was smoothing the drying hair back from your temple, and after a few beats he bent his neck to kiss the crown of your head. The tenderness of it, the giving in to your request, pulled another tear out of your eye that fell straight into the cotton of Dean’ t-shirt underneath you.

           He sounded like he’d just woken up, that sleepy-syrupy sandpaper of a long night on his vocal cords. “You know, right? If it was going to be anyone for me, it would’ve been you?”

           The weight of it turned the blankets on top of you into a hug. You were nodding into him before you could speak, the tears turning your voice creaky-soft. “Same to you, dummy.” He chuckled once nostalgically at the ribbing, and you felt the rumble of it under you. “Thank you, Dean.”

           You felt the tension of the hiccupped breath before Dean got it under control to answer. “I love you, kid.”

           “Love you too.” It was the only thing to say, and neither of you had to answer or explain this undercurrent that had never been acknowledged so plainly before, no matter how rock solid it might’ve been for years. You laid there together for a long time, beating of Dean’s heart underneath you something constant to hold onto, warmth off his body better than any hot water bottle. The last thing you remembered before passing out was hearing Sam walk through the front door.

-

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[the-blind-geisha]

Technically, I am an anon so you're not that far from the truth xD But I know you know I'm more than that <3

Hooo, you have my attention then! It sounds good! Really good! Damn I'll have to expose myself faster to bother you properly so you will tell me more about your ideas XD And honestly, as you mentioned Alice in Wonderland, I now think of Alice: Madness Returns' version of Cheshire. Loving that character to the bits <3 So, gather your ideas, dear! I'll be there soon, to get more ideas out of you!

Hey, I think redrawing your art is nice cuz you can see the progress your skill went through. Also, it's good you still have these pieces cuz AAAAAAA THEY WERE AMAZING (you gonna really make me hack your hard drive huh? XDD)

Oh my God, it'd be so fucking hilarious if Ulbert programmed some keyboards in Demiruge that immediately make him go with LET'S CONQUER THE WORLD!!!!!111111 Oh, right, I checked the tag cuz eh, I'm like on the volume before this season so XD and yeah, you're right XDDD Also, is that panic in Ainz I can read there? Good old Ainz not changing even in vol15. No, seriously, I need to rewatch all these scenes in which Demiurge explains to everyone the plan that Ainz has. These are really comedy gold.

Renner surely is a breath of fresh air but holy eff, seeing how much different she is from everyone is always so shocking, at least to me XD Like I said, never been into yanderes, but Renner is a damn good yandere. (Oh no, I think I know who you mean, yikes). About Ainz, that's why I love how overpowered he is! The enemies are taking out their last card, their super-duper-ascending-tier-magic shit and they are so super confident it'll allow them to win, only for Ainz to kill it with a snap of his fingers XDDDD Ainz manifesting 'gg noob' is always so wonderful to watch <3

Oh man, I think I got the idea of what I'm gonna do to expose myself. But eh, if only I was good at using graphic apps XD

Oh yes, I cannot wait to see how Demiurge uses someone's body as a baseball bat <333

Hm... I guess I need to check some Dead by Daylight videos XDD. I used to watch it a lot on streams, but I never heard those... injury moans... hmmm. ;))) As long as he had fun, that's all that matters. Not the fact that we are not being tortured by it XD

I heard stuff and watched a bit of gameplay of RE: Code Veronica, and I want to try it one day! But it'd be nice if they decided to remake it </3. But, hm, I cannot say I'm a big fan of RE... (remembers they have a nsfw alphabet with Carlos to finish)... yeah, that's right cuz I really don't like anything that has horror in it XD Still, omg, the atmosphere and the LORE is amazing there. I could spend my time reading wiki and I'd be so damn happy.

I have no effing idea who agreed to make Chris punch a effing bolder in RE5 and I also have no effing idea who made him such a dilf in Village but, Capcom will forever own my soul for doing these things. <333

Ah, another reason to expose myself. Hm, it's so temptingg ahhhhh!

Honestly, I'd love to write some snappy stuff with Demiurge for you, but uh, I'm sure I won't cover his personality in the right way XD After all, I watched Overlord so long ago (let's not even speak about LNs, I'm waiting for the series to finish to reread it but XD)

Enjoy your days off, dear! Do whatever you want, as long as you're having fun <3 - Pandemonium

Yesss! Exactly that Cheshire cat! I almost wanted to model Cheshire closer to that version, as he's my fave, but neh. Just did a 'close enough' idea. XD But my bestie gifted me an Alice Cheshire Cat bag and plushie, and omg, I love them both SO much! Take your time, hon!

PEFT. I mean, they are actually on my external. X”D All old art from fandoms I no longer participate in drift off my main PC just for the sake of room, but I do still have them! ♥

Ulbert did have the desire to take over the world so—who knows! Maybe he did do that! >3 Put that info in Demi's bio somewhere! Haha Vol15, Ainz does get a bit more bold saying 'what if I screw up' or 'what if I die' sort of stuff to get them to respond levelheadedly. XD It's just...a progress. It's like trying to tell children Santa's not real.

Renner is super cool, and I adore everything she does! I also love she actually kind of becomes Albedo's first real friend. In the latest season, while I got far more Albedo than I wanted, I still loved seeing her different personalities outside of 'omg, Imma jump Ainz'. Even if it was an act to be a political figurehead for Nazarick before humans, seeing her so reserved and kind was...so nice?? I dunno, it awakened something. But I'm already a sucker for succubi, so that wasn't hard for her to do. LOL

XD Take whatever time you need.

I will say, RE games are like my nostalgia. Will I write/draw for them? Neh. Not unless commissioned. I just prefer the atmosphere, like you said! It's so enjoyable and creepy. Those creepy letters you find scattered throughout some of the games to set the background are always a great read. They've stuck with me for years. X3;

Oh, come now! I am sure you'd write an amazing Demiurge! More importantly: it'd be written by you, so I know I'd treasure it! ♥

Thank you, hon! I am certainly vegetating as we speak. X3 I hope your day continues to go well!

[jonnnysuh]

Never Not - Park Jinyoung

Pairing: idol!Jinyoung x gender neutral reader

Summary: Your bad day is turned around when your childhood best friend, Jinyoung, returns to your hometown and takes you on a tour of your favourite memories together.

Genre: angst, fluff, friends to lovers

Warnings: suggested sexual experience

Word Count: 4.3k

Requested by: Anon

A/N: Hi guysssss. I took a small break from tumblr bc I got super busy with work. I haven’t written something like this in a while, but I actually loved how it turned out. I recommend listening to Never Not by Lauv to get into the mood <33

Effort was hard to make these days. Even the way you walked had an unmistakable slouch. Your exhaustive strides were just a shallow reminder that there used to be a hop in your step. Five more minutes and you were free from the shackles of work. Free to figure out what to make for dinner, and appease the gurgles of your stomach.The seconds on the point of sale system didn't seem to move fast enough as you folded the customer's final item and shoved it into a bag.

When you were a kid, no one told you how exhausting being an adult was, and thus it became something to look forward to. You were so caught up on getting that first kiss, sneaking out to go to parties, seeing people that your parents didn't approve of, that you didn't realize that life didn't slow down from there. It was like you blinked, and you were no longer 16. Instead, you were twenty-something perpetually feeling like life was just an endless pit of "what ifs" and building up the courage to make something of yourself. Another mindless "Have a good day." escaped your lips as you bid a customer bye for the nth time that day. You wondered how many of your years would waste away telling others to have a good day, when you yourself hadn't had one in a while.

You pressed your fingers against your temple to sooth a small growing headache. Working in retail for as long as you had, you knew that the s-curved line of people didn't stop for your discomfort. With a fake smile on your face, you welcomed the next few customers as your eyes wandered around the store looking for the person who was going to take over for the next hour. Fifteen minutes past the hour, your replacement finally came. Externally, you wanted to scream and ask them what took you so long? but you knew that would only make you as good as the worst customer. Graciously, you nodded at them, before walking away to the back room to fetch your things and head out.

...

You stood against the wall at the bus shelter shivering from the cool summer breeze that was disguising just how rapidly autumn was truly coming. Today probably wasn't the best day to forget your coat.  You rubbed your arms for warmth, taking micro footsteps in place.  The pain in your feet made you romanticize the comfort of the sturdy old bus seats as a place of rest. You felt your phone in your pocket vibrate, but you let it ring out. You were determined to get a seat on this bus. A deep sigh escaped you as you surveyed the density of the crowd on the platform- the ride home was definitely going to be longer than usual. When the bus arrived, you queued behind a long line of people. Your phone rang a second time, at this point the crowd was getting larger and you knew you weren't going to get a seat on this bus.

PRIVATE CALLER 

"Hello?" you pressed your phone to your ear. Sometimes your mother used phone booths to reach you, so you expected her voice to be on the other end of the line. "I'm offended I had to call you twice for you to pick up."  The voice was much deeper, and the delivery much more lighthearted than anything that would've came out of your mother.  The absence of a greeting was distinct and direct, but no matter, you knew exactly who this was.

You felt the tenseness of your shoulders drop with just the sound of this voice. "If I had definitely known it was you, I wouldn't have picked up, Mr. Private caller." you jest with the phone  pressed between your ear and the crook of your shoulder.

"You know, I was gonna suggest that I pick you up, but just for that comment, I change my mind."

You poke your tongue at your cheek, coyly. For all the changes that occurred in your life, for some reason you could depend on Jinyoung's quick wit and humour to hit the spot even after all this time.

"That's fine, I just finished work so I was thinking of just going home anyways."  You had no idea he was even back in South Korea. Last you heard, he was on tour somewhere in North America. More than that, you couldn't even remember when the last time you actually talked was. You were curious about what he was up to these days, but you you knew any hint of urgency in your voice would lead to incessant teasing on his part. The line progressed slightly, but you still didn't feel any closer to the entrance of the bus.

  "I'm about to get on a bus home." 

"Well, don't get on." 

"If I don't get on then you're gonna have to repay me for the fare I paid to even get here." You eyed the bus reaching its capacity, and stepped aside. You twisted your fingers in hope that he was being 100% serious, otherwise you were going to have to wait out for the 6:30pm bus.

"I can't believe the cost of your attention is only $2. Do better." the voice quipped. 

"Okay, Jinyoung I guess I'll just get on, then." you threatened, although you had no intention of boarding the departing bus.

"Fine, fine. I'll pay for your fare. Just wait for me."

...

The sky had darkened tenfold since you hung up from Jinyoung's impromptu call. The streetlights glowed gold against the lavender backdrop of the sky. You sat on the bus shelter bench, swinging your feet back and forth as you waited for him. If he took even a minute longer, you vowed to somehow become the president of the Park Jinyoung hate club. Of course, you wouldn't actually, but the idea became more appealing the longer you waited. 

You weren't one to go on spontaneous outings- at least not since your teenage years. Recently, you followed the strict routine of work, home, sleep, and to stray from it seemed pointless. But the fact that he even thought of you when he came back home to South Korea was still not something you could wrap your head around.

In the distance, a glow of headlights appeared, stopping perfectly adjacent to your bus stop. The window rolled down, and there appeared Jinyoung's face in all its glory. To say all the words in your vocabulary disappeared would be an understatement. A part of you doubted he would even follow through. Without missing a beat, he returned a look to you. "You just gonna stare at me, or are you gonna get in the car?"

...

Your backpack was sitting atop your lap, bouncing with the movement of the car. Jinyoung hung one hand over the steering wheel. The orange and purple of the sky twisting, and creating a brand new colour that only seemed to grace the skies at this hour. The music was unidentifiable, but the volume was low enough that you didn't even bother trying to figure it out.

"So what'd you do today?" he asked. 

"I worked, I told you that." you replied, matter-of-factly.

"And how was it?"

"I honestly can't tell the difference between this week and last week. Or even last month. Same old, same old. Annoying customers, stale lunch, forgot my jacket at home even though it's 15 fucking degrees outside." 

"Do you still work at that clothing store you started at when we were 20?"

  Your eyes shifted, following the ever-changing scenery of the highway. No idea where he was bringing you, and yet you were brought to comfort by Jinyoung's habits.  You knew he didn't have a drug deal, or a random party planned.  Jinyoung was always the type to be home before midnight. He was a self-proclaimed goody-two-shoes, but you weren't completely fooled. You knew he could bend the rules if it seemed to serve him.

  "That exact same one."

 "Anything else?"

  You looked at him, the shock settling in that he was really right next to you-- no longer just a figure on a billboard that you used to know. The changes of his physicality were subtle; his face was more defined, but his cheeks still carried the baby fat that had been there since childhood. The shadow of his facial hair loomed on his smooth skin. The mole on the top of his lip, not necessarily gone, but faded. He looked older, but the aura of his presence remained the same.

"And then I was dumb enough to get into a car with a stranger because he said he'd give me $2."

Jinyoung side eyed you, causing you to erupt in laughter. His glare was also unchanging. "Stranger? Your memory's fading already?" He shook his head disappointedly. "I thought you still had a few good years left."

  "Oh yeahhhhhh. Sorry Jinyoungie. Didn't recognize you with all the fame." you pinched and pulled on his ear- both things a relic of your grade school years. When you were kids, you never let him forget the age gap. Granted, it was only 3 days, but that gave you the freedom to refer to him however you pleased, while he was stuck with the honorifics.

As you let go, the curve of his ear flushed red. "OWW.” he cried, swatting your hand away. “You’re lucky I’m driving otherwise I would pull your hair.”

Being raised with Jinyoung meant that you were inseparable but kind of in the worst way. If Jinyoung got  a good mark on a test, his parents would immediately flaunt it to yours. If you wanted to sneak out, he was on your tail telling you to go back home. And if he knew you liked someone, then that person would know soon enough by the words of Jinyoung. All of that warranted ear pulling, and if you did something in retaliation he would pull your hair.

He was one of the few people in your life, who encapsulated a certain time of your life.  The time in your life when you were young, and the world felt so big and everything was possible.

  The car rocked back and forth as it shifted into the elevated ramp of a parking lot. Your eyes widened as you realized where you were.  He lingered in his seat before popping his seatbelt off and exiting the car. You followed him, swinging the passenger door open.

  "So you randomly called me because you wanted to hang out at the...convenience store?" you gestured to the old, orangey building. The bricks were chipped, and the fluorescent lights illuminated the outside through the big glass window.  You remember the days when you and Jinyoung would sit on the parking blocks and split a bag of chips until you were chased off the property by the owner. He pulled on the store door, pressing his back to it and letting you enter first. 

"Well, I wasn't going to come here until you started yanking my ears. That's when I knew you were hungry."

Without stopping, you weaved through the store until you reached aisle 3- the snack aisle had become a home to you and Jinyoung when you were growing up. In grade school, you were both fearful of what was beyond the boundaries of your home and school so you indulged in after school snacks at the convenience to talk about the latest happenings in your life. As you aged, it became the place of solace after exams, or the meetup location for last minute plans.

  He picked up a package of gummy worms, and shook them in your face. "Do you remember what happened the last time we ate theseeee?" Jinyoung smirked. For a moment, you were taken aback by how much he had grown. In your teens, you and Jinyoung met eye to eye. Now, you felt like you had to look up at him in order to be taken seriously.

  You crossed your arms, "Yeah, we ate them in the parking lot and you made me confess who I had a crush on." 

"Chan, right?" 

You nodded, with a sulk as you reminisced. "That wasn't fair."

 "Why? Do you still have a crush on him?" 

"I haven't thought about him in so long. You really think I'd have a lingering crush on a guy I haven't seen in years?"

Jinyoung shrugged, and shifted his feet. "You had a huge crush on him, though. You even stared at him like this." He rested his palm to his cheek, letting out a deep sigh while trying to maintain an enamoured expression. You snorted, hitting him on the chest. "You'd write his name all over your notebooks AND you bullied me into giving you one of my new ones." he added.

You let out a belly laugh. "And then I wrote his name all over that one too."

Jinyoung rolled his eyes. "They were premium quality notebooks. My aunt sent me them from the states!"

 "You had a kabillion of them. Besides, you pestered me for-like-ever to know who I liked, but you never even told me who you had a crush on." You grabbed the bag of gummy worms from his hand and placed it in your shopping basket. Your attention shifted, as you realized you should be in search of your favourite chocolates. You knew that you were far too old to be eating junk food for dinner, but there was something familiar about being hyped up on food that you knew would rot your insides. Your eyes landed on the top row of the wall, and before you could grab your favourite chocolates, Jinyoung stripped it from the wall and dropped it into the basket. He piled on a bag of sour cream and onion chips, and then you both ventured to the drink refrigerators.

  Both of you stared deeply at your drink options. On each level of the fridge, stood several different colourful drinks. If you knew Jinyoung, then you knew he would pick a Coke- it was something he swore by in your younger years. You hummed, mentally deciding between an iced tea or a vitamin water.  You weren't sure why it bothered you when Jinyoung picked up a Sprite, but you tried to hide your dismay. With an ice tea in hand, and a basket full of both of your favourite things, you made your way to the cashier.

  At the last moment, Jinyoung placed a bright yellow umbrella on the checkout counter. He looked down at you, surely, “You never know when it’s gonna rain.”

...

The following car ride to your next destination only lasted about 3 minutes before he parked on the side of the road and dragged you down the street, with the plastic bag full of your foods in hand. 

"I should've known you were going to bring me here." you said, strolling down the familiar gravel pathway towards your elementary school. All colour in the sky had disappeared now, finding it hard to see anything but the outline of each other and some features.

  Both of you settled on the grass field, onlooking the tall school building that was the foundation of your formal years. As soon as you opened the bag of chips, you found yourselves deep in conversation, talking about what life had been for him the last few years. You couldn't help but be in awe when he explained the rush he got when he got on stage, and how he got anxiety when he thought he wasn’t doing his best.  The candidacy of his thoughts drew you in and you were surprised that he trusted you with his secrets. 

All these years, you had always wondered what he was up to, if he was living a life far better than the one he left at home.  To everyone else, he was this huge pop star that had travelled the world 3 times over, but to you, he was your best friend who left home at 16. You had seen him through the bad hair phases, the adolescent temper tantrums, the voice cracks, and the questionable fashion choices both your parents had put you in.

  He leaned back on his arms as he gazed at the school. "Are you afraid of change?" You were silent for a moment as you thought. "On a scale of 1-10?" you rocked your head back and forth. "It's a 15."

Jinyoung raised his eyebrows. You held your legs to your chest, and looked at him. "Why?"

He opened his mouth, but quickly closed it and looked smugly in the other direction. "Heyyy." you poked him repeatedly. "You can't just ask me that and not tell me why."

He enclosed his hand around your finger, forcing your poking to come to a halt. It felt like he was studying your face. Never in your life had you ever felt like you were under the scope of Jinyoung's gaze. The darkness of the sky acted as a mask, hiding your blushing face.

"It was the last thing I asked you before I left." he admitted. "I asked you that when things were about to change big time for us… I always wondered if you resented me for leaving you behind."

  The last day before Jinyoung left to become a full-time trainee, you two snuck on to this very same field. Both of you ran across the grass, picking up dandelions; believing that if you gathered enough and blew on them, that they would fuel your wishes.

  “You thought I could resent you?” He nodded. “Well, for starters, I hate your guts.” You replied sarcastically, causing him to look at the ground with embarrassment and your face softened at the sight of it.

  “You know what I wished for on all of those dandelions, Jinyoung?”

 “Not to fail the math exam.” Even in a soft moment, he couldn’t help but be sly. “No!” You exclaimed. 

“Well, you should’ve. You got a 48.” He sensed your killer look on him. “So what’d you wish for?”

You played with your fingers. You thought you’d take this secret to the grave. “I wished that you’d be successful in whatever you chose to do.” His eyes enlarged, alarmed at your confession. “but maybe I should’ve wished for the math thing.”

  Jinyoung giggled, inching closer to you so your legs were pressed against each other. 

“What did you wish for?” You asked. He smiled with the side of his mouth, shaking his head. 

“I wished that I’d always find my way back home.” “Oh goddd.” You gagged. “you’re so corny.”

 “What about you, huh? You used your wish on me!” he bellowed, his voice echoing against the school playground. 

“Hey, I might just be the reason why you’re famous.” You fought back.

You flipped your phone over, 7:53, the brightness of it only barely illuminating the dark. You thought about what you would be doing at this moment if you weren’t here, if he hadn’t picked you up.  Mmm probably falling asleep to a tv show. Probably dreading tomorrow. Probably not as happy.

"But what did I say? You know… the first time you asked me that question?” You couldn’t even begin to imagine how 16-year-old you answered.

  "You said you were excited to see who we were going to become.” The words of your younger self were so hopeful, yet your current self felt hopeless. Your expression sank, and Jinyoung offered a small smile to revive it. He felt guilty having asked you the question in the first place.

You sat in silence for a bit, dwelling on the excitement for life that you once had. Where was it? And how could you get it back?

“I feel like I’ve let myself down. I don’t even know who I am now.”

Jinyoung blinked slowly, watching his childhood best friend crumble. He rested a hand on your shoulder.  "I just look at you, and in so many ways you're the same. I still know what makes you laugh, and the way you say things. I can still pick out your favourite snacks, and know you’re gonna pull my ears when I do something to piss you off.” he yanked on yours softly. "Everything about you feels just how I left you. I feel my youth when I'm with you. But at the same time I’m comforted by how much you’ve changed.”

“I don’t think I’ve changed much.”

“You don’t see it, do you?” You shook your head no. “Do you remember how scared you were to even leave the house when we were kids? Now you live on your own. You never took anything seriously back then, but you’re now one of the hardest working people I know…” his voice softened. “And you let yourself be vulnerable with me when it used to take hours to drag it out of you.” You laid on his shoulder, and he rested his head on top of yours, snuggling closer. “You fear change, yet you’re changing right before your own eyes. And maybe one day, I’ll come back here, and I won’t even be able to recognize who you’ve become.” You sniffled, the idea of Jinyoung not remembering you broke your heart. You held your chest. “But if that day does come, it’ll be okay. Because I know that the person that you’ve become will have it all figured out.  I’ll always be rooting for every single version of yourself even if it doesn’t include me.” You sobbed quietly, interlocking your fingers with his. He held your hand tightly, rubbing his thumb against the back of your hand. For once, there was an action not done out of habit or relic. It was an action evoked just for this moment, and it was a change that you didn’t mind.

…

Jinyoung held your hand, leading you down a narrow road a few minutes away. The sound of crickets, barking dogs, and distant vehicles could be heard as you stood in the middle of the road of your childhood neighbourhood.

  You hadn’t been here since you moved in 2016. You looked up at the large modern house that sat on what used to be two lots. Yours and Jinyoung’s childhood homes were purchased by a wealthy business man and demolished to build the business man’s dream home. You stared at the foreign house that sat on the place of your childhood dreams and frustrations.

  Jinyoung placed his hands on your shoulders and stopped you at the exact halfway point between what was once his house and your house. You rubbed your arms as a gust of wind rushed by. Without thinking, Jinyoung slipped off his hoodie and placed it on top of your shoulders.

“I remember racing you down this street.” You piped up, pointing down the end of the road. Jinyoung always won that race. No one was faster than him on this street.

“I remember finding that stray puppy and fighting over who got to keep it.” He responded.

“It should’ve been me.” You bickered. Jinyoung laughed, amused at how you were always one to hold a grudge.

“Do you remember that day when it started raining soooo hard and we had to walk shoulder to shoulder under my umbrella?”

You nodded. “Ya, that was the same day with the gummy worms, you dummy.”

“So do you remember what happened right here?” He pointed at the exact spot you were standing. You racked your head for a memory, but nothing stood out to you clearly. You shook your head no. “We always said bye to one another here...but…?” you trailed off.

He took a step forward, both of you standing directly under the streetlight now. You watched his face light up as he likely played the moment back in his head. “So that day, standing under my umbrella, we were about to go our separate ways. You turned into me.”

He took another step closer, popping open the bright yellow convenience store umbrella and holding it over your heads.

You could see it now. It was drizzling so hard, even your hair wasn’t protected from getting soaked.   You wrapped your hands around the handle, just like how you did back then. Chest to chest, huddled under the umbrella. Jinyoung locked eyes with you, your heart beat faster.

“And you looked at me, and I swear I was going to say everything I wanted to tell you right then and there.” Your mouth opened in shock. “This was the place where I almost told you I loved you.”

You studied the eyes of the boy you watched grow up. He looked scared, but sure. There was no doubt in your mind that Jinyoung meant what he said. He lowered the umbrella, not letting his gaze veer from you.

  Your life was just a build up of what if’s and trying to gain the courage to make something of yourself… but you didn’t want that anymore. With your heart beating out of control, you leaned into him, taking the risk and kissing his lips. He wrapped his arms around your waist, deepening the heat of the kiss.

A round of thunder boomed above you, and little by little, raindrops began to pour from the sky.

You and Jinyoung separated to look up at the sky. “I did say, you never know when it’s gonna rain.”

You both ran for the car, shoulder to shoulder, under the umbrella. From your heads to your toes, you were soaked in the rain, but neither of you cared. You silently thanked the world for every bad thing that happened to you today that led to this.

…

You blinked your eyes awake, surveying the damp clothes strewn across your living room floor, and the heat of the bare body laying next to you on the couch. You stared at your sleepy childhood best friend, a smile spreading across your lips. This was a change you were ready for.