#Depending on how busy we are I can work on some drafts

[exoraptor]

A late thank you for everyone who followed me back! I've been a little thrashed from work

I haven't made the art for my wip pinned post, nor any icons yet (not for a lack of trying, I'm lacking in motivation on that front :Y )(Plus I sometimes have a hard time with Kaleo's face which is fun)

Buuuut making new tags wouldn't be hard at all.

Feel free to like this post for some sort of starter! Probably something silly or somewhat vague. Oooor feel free to hit me up if you wanna work out a plot! Big or small, I have no preferences at all ♡

[crazychaoticizzy]

Just the Tip

CONTENT: 18+, MDNI, smut, unprotected sex, morning sex, dom/sub/switch reader and character depending on which one you’re reading, my knowledge on some of these characters is limited since i’m new to the fandom so they may be mischaracterized, the most basic concept but it’s something ✨

WORD COUNT: 573

MASTERLIST

“C’mon, baby… Just the tip, I swear.”

You both knew he was lying. He didn’t do just the tip. You knew that, and yet you still obliged him in the early morning.

“Just for a bit. I have a meeting today,” you mumble. You bury your face further into your pillow as he climbs on top of you. Now that you’d said it, you realized how much you didn’t want to go to that business meeting.

“I know, baby. I swear this time it’ll really be just the tip.”

You hum as he pushes your panties aside. His fingers briefly glide against your folds before he replaces them with his cock.

For a moment, he abides by his promise and only puts in the tip. He ruts into you and moans in your ear before pushing more of himself in. You’re too tired to notice entirely, although you can feel it. You don’t comment on it, though, even knowing that you should. You excuse it by convincing yourself just a little bit of indulgence wouldn’t hurt anyone.

It isn’t long until his hips meet yours. Your mouth falls open in a surprises moan when he pulls out almost completely and shoved himself back inside. Your eyes shoot open, and you look up at him with a questioning gaze.

“Oops.” The stupid smirk on his face tells you this is definitely not and oops situation, but you can’t find it in yourself to argue. Especially not after he begins a fast pace.

It looks like that meeting will have to wait. What a shame…

Jean Kirstein, Eren Yeager, Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Toji Fushiguro, Ryoumen Sukuna, Roy Mustang, Portgas D. Ace

There was no sound prettier than the sound of your boyfriend’s voice, still groggy with sleep as he holds onto your hips for dear life.

Just the tip. That’s what he’d promised you. But Jesus Christ, the way your walls stretched and squeezed around just the tip made him delirious. You’d barely given him anything and his eyes were already rolled to the back of his head.

He whines and whimpers in your ear, pleading, begging for you to let him put more of himself inside.

“Baby… Baby, please… I know you’re busy today but I need-”

With the way he moans in your ear, his hands twisted in the sheets and leaving bruises on your hips, it would just be cruel to say no, wouldn’t it?

Armin Arlert, Reiner Braun, Choso Kamo, Sanji Vinsmoke

Sometimes you find yourself hating how coy he can be. How fucking clever he is infuriates you, especially when it’s early in the morning and the only thing you want is for him to not follow what you said.

You moaned his name, long and drawn out, as you tried moving your hips back to push more of him inside you.

But he keeps his hands on your hips, preventing you from moving any further. He tuts and shakes his head, barely moving the tip in and out.

“We can’t get too carried away. We both have things to do today,” he whispered, his voice still raspy and thick with sleep.

You groan, attempting to move your hips again. When he resists, you give up. “Please,” you beg.

He chuckles. You think for a moment that he’ll give in to your pleas and screw you until you’re a mess beneath him, but he only kisses your cheek and pulls away.

It leaves you feeling empty and upset, even with the promise of a proper fucking when the two of you return to work.

Erwin Smith, Levi Ackerman, Kento Nanami

this has been in the drafts since at least February sorry about that guys hope y’all enjoyed 💜

[gghostwriter]

Emails He Didn’t Send

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Part 1 || Part 2 Summary: Through a series of unsent emails, Spencer laments through the loss of his life. Trope: Angst with an open ending w.c: 2.11k a/n: this marks the last of my ‘three’s a sideshow’ series. I wasn’t planning on making it a mini series I promise but ideas came and i am nothing but a slave to my creativity and readers. Special thanks to @lavenderspence & @thegloryofliterature for reading my unfinished drafts and giving me their opinions. Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! 💗 masterlist

[Drafted at 14.02.2019 23:41] 

To: reader@gmail.com

Fr: spencer.reid@gmail.com

Subject: Hey Love

Your favorite song played on the diner’s radio today. You remember which one, don’t you? The one we softly played through your phone’s speaker as we tried to bake your mom’s apple pie from memory during that late night when nightmares plagued my mind. I vividly remember the burnt taste of its’ crust as we were too busy dancing in each other’s arms, under the dim light of our kitchen and the night light, to mind the timer going off.

Sitting on the table, feeding each other what we deemed left edible, and laughing at how faulty your memory could be. It didn’t taste like what you imagined it to be, nostalgia and love, but for me, it was the sweetest treat there was. Being there with you, sheltered inside our apartment, accompanied by your smiles and giggles.

In hindsight, how ironic was it that was our running joke, when my memory is anything but fallible.

I once thought I knew all there was about love. The science behind it—how love actually happens less in the heart and more in the brain where key neurotransmitters such as dopamine, serotonin, and oxytocin are released. All these chemical trigger physical responses and in turn feel addictive. As time goes on, connection, commitment and comfortability of the known take over. I’ve known everything about it, read everything about it, and experienced some to an extent—familial and friendship but then, you came along, beautiful, light, and happy, unaware that you’ve dismantled all my beliefs and concepts, making me question the validity of science and making me realize I’ve never truly loved before—the encompassing type of love they describe in books and show in movies. Nothing existed before you and nothing exists after, I know that now. 

Happy Valentine’s Day, love. I’ve spent my day working myself to the bone, doing anything to push the thought away of you and the lack of us. Now, as I hunch over in this wobbling desk in my undisclosed assignment, I can think of nothing but you, the space between us, and the love you’ve defined in the very atom of my being. 

— Spencer

**

[Drafted 01.07.2019 21:16]

To: reader@gmail.com

Fr: spencer.reid@gmail.com

Subject: Flowers 

Communicating through flowers is a forgotten language in the modern times. I’ve read and seen too much classics, minus the existential musings of Dostoyevsky, to have a small knowledge of what each flower meant. Interestingly enough, they each would have a variety of symbolisms and depending on the color, it also changes. 

During our first picnic date, you mentioned the bushes of Hydrangeas your mother would religiously tend over in your backyard. How a subtle change in environment causes them to wilt and how the color of their flowers change, as if they were magic or a game of chance. You liked the concept, admitting right then that they were your favorites due to fond memories. I passed by the library, once I walked you home, and checked out a book for it—plants and its up-keeping never one I gravitated to. I did kill the tiny cactus Garcia gifted me in my early start in the FBI, sadly.

Its’ change in colors are attributed to pH changes in the soil, blue is for acidic and pink is for alkaline. Your mother must have made sure to always keep it pink, a manifestation of her love for you. They do, after all, mean many things like love, gratitude, hope, apologies, and regrets in some Asian cultures.

I left you a bouquet of blues on your doorstep, love, before I had to leave for an assignment I’m still on today. I’ve always gifted you pinks, in every month, and in every anniversary. Did you ask yourself why the change in color? I hoped you did.

The blues bear my sincerity and gratitude in having the chance in loving you. As a kid who grew up with certain circumstances, a father gone, bullies in school, and a mother in need of my care, I never once thought I would have had the chance in love or with someone like you, for that matter. I’m not as smooth or extroverted as Morgan, I could never figure out how he picked up women everywhere we went. I’m not as reliable or authoritative as Hotch, someone who could silence a room filled with testosterone with just his presence. I’m neither of those things but you approached me anyways. 

I keep a single pressed flower from that bouquet in my handkerchief now. The very same one you clumsily embroidered my name on. It has become a talisman of sorts, a connection to you and our past. I’m sorry for breaking your heart and in the process, shattering mine.

Good night and please visit me in my dreams, even just once.

- Spencer

**

[Drafted 15.11.2019]

To: reader@gmail.com

Fr: spencer.reid@gmail.com

Subject: What’s In A Name

There’s a phenomenon that happens in our brain that leads to a perception of increased frequency called the recency bias. Giving greater importance to the most recent or the most known, like how a jury remembers a lawyer’s closing argument rather than the whole hearing. Or like how my brain tunes in when it hears the sound of your name, nickname or not. 

I found myself craning my neck to face some stranger shouting your name, even though the statistic of it being you, where I am now, is a definite zero.

Garcia mentioned she saw you at the local grocery a few nights ago. She brought it up in passing, meaning no harm but possibly also looking for an answer as to why you seemed intent on escaping her presence. It’s been another mistake of mine, I know that now, not divulging the truth as to what had caused our break up.

In all my emails to you, I’ve never did tackle the reason—fearing that I haven’t explained myself well enough and end up pressing send by mistake. By then, there would be no going back.

I had met JJ when I was young, naive, and still green from the academy. She, along with Elle and Garcia, were the first female interactions I had that weren’t hostile or coated with this leer or distrust from me being too different from the rest. They saw me as Spencer, the protege of Gideon, the resident boy genius—an important part of the team. Something I have never experienced, I was, after all, always the last kid chosen during group projects and gym class.

Looking back at it now, I had latched on to that warm feeling of belonging and naively interpreted it as a crush on her. Why not on Elle or Garcia, then? Elle was never on my league—she was too strong-headed, sharp on the edges, something she developed during her time in the Sex Crime division. Garcia was too similar—smart and liked all the same things I did, something I had hoped a sibling would be if my mother had opted for another. That left JJ, who treated me kindly, further warping my notion on romance and emotion.

Then I met you and through a series of unforgettable dates, I knew then that what I had for her wasn’t love. What I had with you was. 

I regret not making it clear for you that you were my first love. You had become an absolute point in my cycle of life. Days and months have gone by and I don’t know what to do with the love left in my heart, still. Briefly I wondered if it would evaporate over time, like water left boiling until there is nothing left, or will it all fade with time, burying itself in my all important beating organ?

The scent of your laundry detergent had long faded from my clothes, no matter how I try to lessen its’ wash, trying to cling to it still. Now all that’s left are my memories and the stale smell of cleanliness.

I miss you, my love. 

I miss knowing you were mine, just like I am still yours.

-Spencer

**

[Drafted 01.01.2020]

To: reader@gmail.com

Fr: spencer.reid@gmail.com

Subject: Happy New Year

The empty space on the crook on my neck misses the feel of your skin burrowing in into mine. It’s a new year and I’m all alone, surrounded by strangers who do not know who I really am—as a person or as an FBI agent. 

As fireworks go off in the night sky and couples and families greet each other a happy new year, my minds wanders to you and how we could be looking at the same sky.

Nostalgia seems to be a bitter trick of the mind, one i could feel myself wanting to sink into its depth—trying to live in the past. Emily sagely advises me to let it go, to move on as you no doubt had, after all, it had been a year now, but I find myself rooted in place as if the earth’s gravity didn’t allow me to.

Time had passed and the atomic beings in me had aged, I question if this is the definite end. Were you the closest I had ever come to a cliche happy ending? If I had noticed the signs in time, maybe we would have still be one.

I never did tell you where we were that night—the real reason why I had been late. In my defense, I didn’t want it to seem to be an excuse, a way to curry your anger. She went with me to pick up your ring that night. Sadly, work got in the way and I had to beg the jewelry store owner, with the help of Garcia tracking him down, to open shop just for me to pick it up. I had it adjusted you see—to fit down your finger.

There are many cultures that have the tradition of making a wish on New Year’s, you were my every wish.

-Spencer

**

His finger hesitated on the right click of his mouse. It had been numerous months of being away from Virginia and everything seemed to have changed without him. Stores that he once frequented were now closed and replaced with something new. Broken down stop lights he vividly remembers were replaced. And the team, once happy and unstained with the darkness of their cases, had aged and become jaded.

Spencer wondered if reaching out was the right thing to do. If reopening old wounds that never healed right would bring some sort of closure. The first night back home, he had caught a glimpse of her, far away and oblivious to his presence. It had brought to mind the urban theory of meeting people twice—how someone who’ve finished their story in his life were bound to never appear again. He’d never put much fate into those beliefs with no scientific backings but as he spied her crossing the street, Spencer found himself believing it, imploring it to be real. 

He sighed under his breath, eyes tracking the simple note he had written down. 

To: reader@gmail.com

Fr: spencer.reid@gmail.com

Subject: Hello

Hi. I hope this finds you well. Will you be open to talk? Just talk.

There’s no need to reply right now or even at all, for that matter.

If yes, I will be waiting at our coffee shop, the one you shared just with me, by the window this coming Saturday afternoon.

But if the burden is too much or you simply never want to see me again, I would understand.

Perhaps, now is my turn to wait for you restlessly. A penance two years too late.

-Spencer

He steeled his nerves before pressing ‘send’. The beating of the organ in his chest threatens to swallow him whole. Who he was could change within a couple of days—there now would be a definite ending to their story. 

Her Polaroid picture was still tacked on his work station, faded but her smile was still the same—warm and inviting. She lingers all around, ring still in his drawer, as if she might return. As if these memories and mementos can summon her back in his arms.

“Reid,” Emily called out. “We’ve got a case.”

He nodded, quickly leaving his desk to head straight to the conference room, unaware of the single unread message left in his inbox.

Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

Request taglist for this series: @mega-kittyglitter-1 @ozwriterchick @flyingwithsilly @timewontgivemetime @vani3 @babyspiderling @alexa554 @ivet4 @starbright1002 @lunaryoongie @casey1-2007 @cherryblossomfairyy @iovediary

[lovrsm]

“ꜱʟᴜᴛ!”

sum: Ferraris golden boy moves over to RedBull Racing Team.

Daughter of the CEO of Red Bull, you’ve grown to love racing, and in the way making new friends. Even if you felt like your world was falling apart, even when you denied it, he was the only one you needed. And there was absolutely nothing that could change his mind about your beautiful self, the way he loves you.

word count:idk, prb 2k

pairing: rb!charles leclerc x horner!reader

warnings: name calling, alcohol, smut f! receiving, first time writing real horny shit!

a/n: sorry for the long intro, I swear it’s worth it😔✋ LOOOL, I WROTE THIS LIKE A YEAR AGOO, and I rlly wanted to clear up my drafts but this is too good to not come out. Yet idk if I have any mistakes, if I do let me know!! Also, checo acting as a dad (#IloveCheco)

Spotify - Apple Music

ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

“and I break down, then he’s pullin’ me in In a world of boys, he’s a gentleman”

Clink, clink, that’s what our champagne glasses sounded like together.

“Congratulations, what a wonderful year. It’s been a pleasure being with all of you.” Sergio, Checo Perez, made a brief goodbye to your team.

He was leaving Red Bull. Everyone here loved him, and loves him, including yourself. He became quickly your family after seeing him every day for more than 3 years.

“We will miss you” your dad palms his back, making Checo break a smile.

“It isn’t the end yet, you know that boss.” He laughed.

His reasons? Family, everything for him, he couldn’t bare leaving them anymore alone, so he decided after, several years, to leave formula 1. After helping Max to win his championships, he is a fucking legend.

“Well, I won’t leave you alone, I will still drag you everywhere, you know? Even after you leave.” Max and Checo have developed a very special bond, even if social media said otherwise.

“We, wont leave you alone, you still owe me those therapy sessions” I winked at him, he became a very big emotional support for me, believe it or not, he’s got some great advice to give.

“Lovely dinner” I took a picture of all of us with my camera, a goodbye dinner for Checo, and tomorrow, all of the world would see this on the newspaper.

-

“I really don’t know what to do, do you know how many drivers have reached us out in the last 2 hours? I mean, I have a few options but they keep giving me more reasons and… I just don’t know.” My dad was stressed, typing in his computer as if his life depended on it.

“It’s going to be alright, okey? You don’t necessarily need to worry about it right now, we still have a championship to win, you know?” I gave him a cup of tea, just so he could relax a bit.

When something is about work, everything else doesn’t matter. At all.

“We’ll watch your options, alright? I can help you with anything you want” I smiled at him.

“When did you became such a great business woman?”

“You’re my father, of course I’m hardworking.”

-

“Red Bull did it again, Max Verstappen and Sergio Perez, world champion and sub-champion!”

Screams from Max and Checo blasted my ears, P1 and P2, again. Absolutely no mistakes. The internet going crazy. And somehow it all became quiet.

“Who will get that Red Bull seat next year? Will he be a fit to Sergio Perez place?”

Everyone went outside to celebrate, while I stayed so I could hear the TV and media.

what do people want?

“Ferrari didn’t have a great year, let’s hope they both get a better car”

“I agree! Great drivers, such a shame Ferrari has been getting worse every year. What a waste of talent.” The other interviewer said.

Charles Leclerc and Carlos Sainz appeared in the screen. Both with an obvious forced smile plastered in their faces.

Charles, my secret crush ever since… forever. Was I obvious? Not a single soul knew, well, except him.

-

Charles Leclerc signed in RedBull that was the only thing appearing on my feed right now . Red bull? Bullshit, you mean? What kind of a big lie is that?

Internet was filled with Charles leaving Ferrari for RedBull.

In what twisted universe does that even happen?

I later learned, I am living in that twisted world, and I discovered the great news in social media, and not my own team.

“What do you mean Charles Leclerc, dad? Why wasn’t I even informed about this. Wait, hold on, when did it even crossed your mind?!” I was dignified.

Following around the kitchen.

“I didn’t have to, oh, I do think I need to tell you this, he’s coming to dinner tonight so wear something nice.”

Wear something nice.

Thanks dad, as always, you’re so, so great.

Night time came sooner than expected, if my dad hosts a dinner, even if there’s a million, or just one person coming over, he likes to be extra.

-

Almost time, 8:00 and it is 7:50, all that was missing was the dress. It was placed on my bed. Showing all of it’s beauty.

Navy blue, our color. It was my dream dress.

Light, silky and fancy dress.

I walked downstairs, watching people running and arranging everything, doing just the final touches.

I’ve come to learn, that people arrive late, or just in time. Never earlier.

“Ah, what a beautiful young woman I have here!” Geri, my father’s wife came to greet me.

“You look amazing, I knew that dress would be perfect for you!”

“Geri, you are amazing, seriously. Thank you, and look at you! We both look gorgeous.” I smiled at her and we linked arms, she and I were walking towards the garden, where would be the dinner.

Some big, round, wooden tables were set in the middle. Each seat would have a name, decorated with a white flower in the middle of the plate.

It was easy to find my place. I was at the biggest one of all, where the most important people of this night would be seated.

Lucky for me, his name was right next to my plate.

In a matter of seconds, people started to arrive, old friends, and new faces passed through those doors.

This will be a great night.

“Funny to find you here, it’s been some time since I last saw you…” I rolled my eyes, I (sadly) recognized that voice anywhere.

“Go away Mike.” I grabbed my wine glass and took a big sip out of it. “C’mon princess, where are your manners?” He got too close to me.

“Hey y/n! Your dad was looking for you, like right now.” Max Verstappen here to save my day.

“Oooh that’s unfortunate, I’m so so so sorry Mike, hope to see you later!” I waved him off and quickly moved towards Max who then friendly linked his arm with mine.

“I owe you one.” I sighed. “You owe me much more than 1, little one.” I laughed at him.

We got close to my father, who now had a microphone at his hand.

“Hello everyone, thank you for coming here and be with us tonight. A toast for Checo here!” He announced and a light was shining on Checo, standing from his seat.

“It has been a wonderful year, sadly it has to end. And I know I’m not the first to tell you that an incredible young talent will be joining us for next season.”

There he was. Navy suit with our logo on him. His hair was messy yet perfectly placed. He showed his dimples and I’m sure I heard someone behind me moan at his sight.

My heart rate was increasing slowly but surely.

“y/n, you’re going to squeeze all my blood from my arm. Stop.” Max whispered in my ear.

Shit. I basically dug my nails into his arm due to my tiny crush.

“Yeah, It’s amazing to know that I’m to race with RedBull next year. I hope we can achieve everything we’ve dreamed of. Looking forward to race with my lifetime partner, Max here.”

Now the light was on Max and me. I discreetly let go of max so that he could have the spotlight. As Max waved I looked back at Charles.

The dimples in his face showed even more, he was looking at me too.

“I can’t wait to work with these wonderful people, and I hope we have a great year to remember, thank you and enjoy this night!” He raised his glass and so did all.

“Well, I hope we don’t have any inchidents” Max laughed at his own joke. Dad joke I must say.

“Well If you don’t push me off the track I think we’ll be just fine” his voice gave me chills. I felt his chest on my back.

I wasn’t strong enough to turn around.

“Oh, shoot, you hear that? I think P is calling me!”

“No, Max-” I tried to stop him.

Around Charles, I barely have control over myself.

“Uh-huh, yeah that’s P, she wants to go to the bathroom, and she needs food, ok have a great night bye!” He rushed to god knows where.

“You really don’t want to be with me, do you?” He whispered on my ear. Feeling the heat of his breath.

“Why wouldn’t I? You are such a lovely company, mr Leclerc.” I gathered the strength and turned around, and his beautiful green eyes shined at me, making me blush.

“Look at you, could you get any more beautiful?”

He lowered so he could whisper again. “I’ve missed you” I looked around real quick, thankfully Max took everyone’s attention on the other side of the place.

“Not here, Charles.” I whimpered.

“Yes here, I can finally be with you, do you think I would waste any more time pretending to not love you? If you do, let me tell you, you are completely wrong.”

He kept whispering, his hands slowly finding his way to my hips. And mine to his collarbone.

“It’s not even 9pm, Leclerc, this party hasn’t even started” I fighted against my own will to drag him upstairs.

“You know I’ll wait, just for you.” He winked at me, before slowly letting me go and walking away.

“You’re not coming, mon coeur?” Charles turned around to look at me. “If you insist.” I happily walked by his side.

We walked and talked for a few minutes before Mike magically appeared before us.

“Oh not even 5 seconds and you are already like a slut with the new driver” He looked at me with a disgusted face.

“Excuse her? Don’t tall to her like that. Do we even know you?” Charles used a very cold tone on him. And Mike started to stumble on his word.

“Uhm, no, she does, like I was something to her-”

“Was, that’s a key word, pal. Don’t you ever talk to her, no, don’t you ever talk to any woman that way do you understand?”

Now, I can defend myself just fine, but that right there soaked my pants in an unexplainable way.

“Get out of our sight, man.” And he crawled away.

“That was hot.” I whispered and he blushed. “Your mother did raise a gentleman.” I smiled at him and he gave me a cheek kiss.

-

Lost on the moonlit pool, drinking my… 11th (?) glass of wine at 1 in the morning while everyone was still dancing, was weird.

My feet swinging as I drink the last drop of my glass.

I went on a side quest myself just to get distracted for a bit. All the noise was going to hurt my ears if I stayed any longer.

“Here you are, you got lost?” He sat down at my side. Didn’t have to look, his thick accent gave him away immediately.

I took a long breath and rested my head on his shoulder . “Yes, Charles, I’m going to get lost in my own house.” I felt him move beside me. He then had his feet in the pool, just as I did.

I smiled to myself.

“Has anyone told you just how beautiful you look today?”

“You have, more than once.”

“I couldn’t let that slip, you do look beautiful with that dress. It suits you just perfectly.”

He paused.

“But I bet you’d look much better without it.”

I nervously chuckled at his comment.

“You haven’t talked to me in ages, you came back being a driver for my father, and now you want to have sex? Why don’t you already make me your wife?!” I dramatically fell into his arms

“Ages? I talked to you last week!” He showed his teeth to me in a smile. “That was a long time ago! Besides, you never told me about you and RedBull.” I sit straight up again.

“I needed your dad to love me one way or another. How else am I going to get him to approve of our marriage?” He joked.

“You are unbelievable Leclerc.” I stood up, and grabbed my high-heels on my hand, walking back to the party barefoot.

I surrounded part of the pool, my dad wanted to add a bar right beside it, and it was freshly cemented.

He quickly copied my moves, but instead, he went on a straight line to me, and in a step he covered his feet in cement, falling down and thankfully placing his hands before getting worse.

“Shit!” I ran back to help him. I stupidly placed my hand in the cement, the other helping Charles to get up.

“Look, we made a masterpiece! Your handprints and mine in wet cement.”

“And your feet.” I laughed

“And my feet… I really need to wash this off before it gets dry.” I grabbed his hand and he followed my lead.

If my dad sees that I’m getting his new driver to my room…

We rushed through the multitude of people on the garden.

“Ooh we’re going to your bedroom, can’t remember what happened last time there…” he whispered shouted as we were running up the stairs.

I jokingly rolled my eyes at him. We were giggling like children. He kept making dirty jokes and as much as I tried to control myself I’d end up giggling much more.

We got there quicker than I thought. With my clean hand I closed the door and he was already in my bathroom washing his hands, and feet with water. I ran to his side and did the same with my left hand.

“I’m done” I announced and got out of the bathroom. Deciding to do a touch up for my makeup, thankfully nothing was much out of place, but my lipstick faded.

I slowly applied it looking in the mirror, and through it I saw a curious Charles looking at me. “Why do you even apply lipstick?” He slowly walked towards me.

I took my sweet time spreading the color on my lips.

“Cause we are going back, party is not over.”

“But we don’t need to.” He grabbed me by the waist and turned me around to look at him and he swiftly placed me on the desk. A smirk plastered on his face, as he slowly got on his knees.

“Charles…”

He got to his knees, not breaking eye contact with me.

“You know that if you say no, I won’t do anything. But I’m not hearing those words, am I?” He lifted my dress planted wet kisses on my inner thighs, getting closer to my sweet spot. “You’re so fucking wet”.

“They will know we’re gone” I nervously whispered. He looked into my eyes and stopped, his hot breath making me squirm. “That isn’t a no.” He stood his ground.

And I’m not saying “do it anyway”, but we both know he is going to.

I didn’t even have a chance to think about the cons, his tongue was already doing its job.My legs were closing due to the pleasure, but his strong arms kept them wide open while he drew circles with his thumbs.

“Charles…” he hummed in response, sending me shivers all the way up. He kept licking my folds and as I looked down, he had his shiny green eyes looking at me. A hint of darkness in them that made me moan just at sight.

His head between my legs was surely what heaven looked like.

I curved my back and my hand gripping his hair so he could get closer. He groaned and sucked even harder.

“Fuck, you’re such a good boy, I missed this.” His hand moved quickly into me, curling his two fingers finding my g spot. “Fuck, Charles!” I screamed his name while cumming all over him, his tongue taking all off of me, as he rose without slowly moving his fingers again. My hips rocking back and forth as he arose, keeping his hand busy. “Too bad that pretty mouth of yours can’t do much right now. I really would love to feel it sucking my dick.” I hummed imagining it and getting even closer to my second climax.

“I'll take care of you, just so my princess can remember who she belongs with.” His lips were on my neck, whispering sweet nothing between kisses and soft biting. My moans filled the whole room along with the sound of his fingers working on her center.

Charles, Charles, Charles…

Each time his name left your mouth his cock got even harder, to the point where it hurt. In a short motion his pants down and without any warning he thrusted into you. You both let out a pornographic scream. If the music wasn’t loud everyone would have heard you two. The sound of your slaps were evident, heat rising, the feeling of his beard in your neck was all too much. Curses along with moans were the only thing louder. He did a final thrust and immediately pulled out, jerking off and finishing in his hand.

“You just washed your hands.” I joked breathlessly, he messed up with my head real bad. “Couldn’t resist” he smiled, gave me a peck and disappeared into the bathroom. I melted on that spot.

“Come on mon coeur.” What I loved about Charles was that he always cared. we got into the bathroom and I washed my hands, in the reflection of the mirror his eyes were already in mine.

“What?” I asked as the blood rushed into my cheeks. “Nothing.” He gently smiled, and his eyes shined to me in a different shade of green.

-

Taglist

@delicatepeanutsublime @ironspdy @architect-2015 @buendiabebeta @dreamergirlatpaddock @lercvlie

[urban-shade]

Absolutely OBSESSED with your work. Can I perhaps ask for your angstiest headcanons that I totallywintdtealwhatareyoutalkingabout? :3

I NEED SLIGHTLY MORE THAN THIS FOR A PROMPT like 80% of my headcanons are angsty (i will absolutely dump paragraphs if i have enough of a prompt because thats what i do whenever we get any new crumb of pressure lore)

in terms of angst my aus are way worse than my headcanons and I'm not too sure what hcs to pull up so you get au infodump since they're more like headcanons about what i think would happen in slightly diff endings of pressure instead of true AU's

also i got a little carried away this is practically rough draft fanfiction i'm so sorry

ALL THREE of my AU's actually kind of work in tandem to explore how I feel Sebastian works as a character, I think no matter what, he doomed by the narrative to never get what he truly wants or have a perfect happy ending.

I'm only going to get into the specifics of one, but the rundown of all 3

Innovation Humanization (lowkey this fic is abandoned im too busy) Sebastian escapes the Blacksite during the power outage and Innovation hijacking a sub for him, he manages to bring Painter with him. He arrives at Innovation Arctic Base, and they go through the process of bringing him back to mostly human again over the next 6mo-year. He has to re-experience his greatest traumas ALL OVER again, but this time done by people that actually kind of care about him as a human being.

This is basically my "good ending" for him, he isn't a fish anymore, but he never gets his legs back. He has painter, and he has time to deal with his trauma. (I think innovation would have a therapist, and thats really the only therapist he COULD talk to about what he went through at urbanshade, normal therapy really wouldn't work.. you need the one that works at a kooky mad scientist base. He may or may not be able to see his family again, depends how evil you think urbanshade would be (if they'd hunt them down to find him so they can neutralize him)

Instantly Human He gets to be, perfectly, how he was before all this started. But he has to escape the Blacksite. Which is HARD AS FUCK.

This is a bit of spoilers for what part 2 to the comic is gonna be but, he has to knowingly leave behind Painter to die (he can't carry a computer as a person, too heavy). That's a "choice" he has to make. He also has no evidence that anything ever happened to him. Personally I feel like not even having a scar from trauma that fucked you up that bad would be upsetting bc it's like it didn't even happen yk? But also I know it is probably what he wants.

Teleported Home Lopee teleports Sebastian back home as his "reward" instead of turning him human like the IH au. Sebastian arrives at home in the middle of the day to his mother cleaning in the kitchen. I'll get into the details after this quick rundown

He gets to see his mom instantly! He doesn't have to deal with escaping the Blacksite! But . He's probably stuck as a fish and in hiding for a whiiile until they can contact Innovation for help. He also involuntarily leaves Painter behind to die in this one as well. He never got to even say goodbye or sorry. Painter is just wondering where Sebastian went (before he inevitably gets killed in a few days/weeks). And he's haunted by that (but also MAD at lopee). He let the kid down. More than let the kid down, he could do literally nothing about this lil guy he was protecting, dying an inevitable death.

You can't have everything Sebastian… Something must suck in some way… Urbanshade has permanently fucked your life

ok now for the details on the teleported home au this is practically a fanfiction that i didn't want to rewrite into actual writing because thats hard so forgive the like, swaps between writer thoughts and writing i know its weird 😭but i hope fun to read regardless!!

SO! Sebastian gets teleported home, Lopee is nice enough to make sure he's crouched down so his head doesn't go through the ceiling.

i dont know if ill ever do final art for this so you get my ms paint diagrams i hope you can bear with me. i gotta establish the setting here, it's in SoCal, middleish of the day. Sebastian was last in the norwegian sea at 9pm (yes this is an accurate time difference im autistic)

His mom is utterly terrified and screams and runs outside upon making eye contact with him. Who wouldn't?! Sebastian is kind of dazed and confused for a moment, he's HOME, and his MOM is 10 feet in front of him. One second he was in a chilly damp concrete box with menacing facility breaking down noises all around him, the next he's in a warm comforting home in the middle of the day with bird calls and shit. That's an insane transition.

He has to think quickly and chase after her even if he's really confused, he can't have the cops called on him and his identity exposed. I don't think she would fully recognize his voice, I choose to believe fishseb sounds different from humanseb due to the experimentation messing with his vocal chords/overall resonance. But his tone is similar to her.

She doesn't want to look at this Thing that's leaning outside of the doorway of her house, but, .. he does oddly remind her of her son.. but he's been declared dead for over 12 years now.. but the hair.. the look in his eyes. He honestly looks like he's about to cry to her , subtly trembling, hunched over like he doesn't want to scare her, but his arm weakly outreached like he doesn't want her to run away.

He's entirely conscious of the fact that he really shouldn't be seen outside right now so he's trying to stay mostly inside the doorway. He went after her on pure survival instinct/adrenaline. Hes so keenly aware of how utterly terrifying he is to her right now and feeling Miserable about being a creature a million times worse than he normally is because he's been thrust into ice cold reality of what he is. Which is something that humans should be terrified of

He didn't even get a chance to ease his mom into it, she's DOUBLY scared because there's a THING/GUY in the house and not just because he's a monster

He asks for her to come back inside so they can talk, she's still really scared but wants to believe its him. He's intentionally moving slowly while backing inside the house to not scare her more.

He doesn't sit on the couch since he's worried his weight might pop the springs (even just the upper torso) so he's just curled up in a pile near it trying to make himself look as unthreatening as possible. And he's ALSO trying to calm down like he needs a moment to breathe and take in his surroundings

She walks in all the way and sees him. He's truly trying not to scare her.. isn't he.. Sebastian was sweet like that.. She takes a breath to steady herself and asks him if he wants something to drink since she really needs a glass of water to help clear her mind

"Heh.. whiskey?.. I know you have it up in the cupboard above the freezer. Used to water it down back in the day. I never knew if you ever noticed." Sebastian was intentionally trying to bring up information that would help her believe he was himself, but also he could really use a drink.. and a smoke.. but he knew his mom hated those. If only she knew he used to sneak out to smoke years ago.

His mother just looks at him with an indiscernible look. Did he say the wrong thing? His ears pin back, he clears his throat. "Water is fine, I was uh..joking about the whiskey." (felt like this dialogue i wrote was really in-character/cute so I had to include it)

I think when they sit down with their waters to talk he, he explains the entire timeline of what happened to him. And once he starts explaining the experimentation she's trying to be quiet to be respectful to hear the whole story but she is absolutely crying. And she goes in for a hug around when he hits the point where he was promoted to Mr-p.

He can feel her shaking when she hugs him, she's still scared of him, but he knows she's trying so hard to comfort him and ignore her instinctual fear.

And they continue to hug as he explains the rest as well as the lockdown and Lopee teleporting him. He leaves out any details about him killing people, can't have mama knowing he's an actual killer now.. I think that his mom knew he was innocent and he is a victim of the legal system

I think Sebastian probably goes to bed around 9-10pm every day because I wouldn't be surprised if the Blacksite had him up really early for work assignments often. So after he talks with his mom for a bit he's noticeably really sleepy because it is Past his bedtime in Norway and ALSO because for the first time in a long time he's actually relaxed. He isn't in fish prison hell anymore!

They generally just hang out for a while after talking, and he passes out from exhaustion. She tries to put a blanket on him, but he violently jumps back while also shoving her away since it felt like another expendable climbing on him. (Side tangent I think he has an unnatural tendency for violence from his fishes in Addition to anger issues caused by ptsd)

He feels awful and profusely apologizes and they make up :)

that's about all i wrote for the start of it, but i had some smaller thoughts about later on

I realized he needs to eat a LOT and it'd be a major financial strain on his mom, I did the math and his calorie needs are like ~14-16k a day (THIS IS REALLY ROUGH but genuinely calculated with formulas and like muscle volume calculations ive done + adjusted to what i think makes sense, this is the Lower end of what i think it'd be. He might need more. It'd be more like 10k cal a day if he's true cold blooded. I feel like character wise it makes sense for him to be medium blooded but true cold blooded would really help him in terms of being Alive)

She basically has to keep him fed on costco rotisserie chicken because that is the absolute cheapest protein she can get (buying a whole frozen cow is still way more per oz than costco chicken) So he costs at minimum ~1000$ a month to feed.

He would be very cognizant of this and try not to eat too much and basically half starve himself. On like day 3-4 he is noticeably really, really out of it. All he can really think about is food and his mom is really worried about him. He really doesn't want to tell her but he'd eventually cave and be like 😓i need to eat like triple the amount of food you've been giving me. so she locks in and gets him some more food. Might have to take out a loan 😭 They really try to get him to innovation ASAP after this because she really can't afford to feed him for more than a few months.

-

ok that is roughly about all i have so far i know that was a massive infodump but i hope it was fun anyways Um. i make no mention of his dad cuz i feel like his dad isn't in the picture anymore but there's no reasoning behind it other than i like it

[cremedensada]

something in my drafts that i actually got the energy and motivation to finish. it's not really my best work but i *did* try so!! also 600+ of yall?? (⁠(⁠(⁠;⁠ꏿ⁠_⁠ꏿ⁠;⁠)⁠)⁠)

Yandere Ocean Spirit who the local sailors and fishermen tell tales of. Some say he takes the form of a charming young man talking with the grandmothers, letting himself be entertained by their tales of when they were younger.

Some say she takes the form of a beautiful young lady walking down the shore as the sun sets down the horizon, colorful gold and orange painting the sky with awe - a vision of beauty and elegance.

Some say they take the form of an individual whose beauty goes beyond genders and labels, taking a dip in the ocean - glowing moonlight behind them. Locals who saw a glimpse of them would often murmur about their long cascading hair as dark as the ocean's waves in midnight; no one truly knows where the tips of their hair ends and the ocean begins.

Yandere Ocean Spirit who, despite his contentment with life at the seaside, finds himself curious with you - a new face, a visitor, in his home.

You were staying at the seaside for the summer, spending time with your relatives per your parents' decisions. You're not all too happy with being plucked out of your comfort zone, but you suppose you might as well make it work - a chance to destress before you'll have to come back and face the reality of life's hustle and bustle, like the unforgiving ocean waves crashing against the shore, hah.

The ocean waves are inviting today - not too huge and overwhelming, but neither too placid and calm. You spend a huge chunk of your afternoon watching the waves - something so routinely was so pleasing to you.

The beautiful stranger approaches you in one of your ocean-watching ventures, a sweet smile adorning her beautiful face - asking permission to accompany you. And who are you to deny her? Not when she looks at you looking like the most breathtaking woman you've ever met in your life and you are just a human being with a huge appreciation for beauty.

"I like the ocean," she says, after a moment of silence, eyes trained on the waves, "everything in life can change - things come and go, but you can always count the ocean to be there."

You chuckle. "Even the ocean can be unforgiving, you know. Especially during storms."

"Ah," she laughs, "that, I'll have to agree... we're all victims to the whims of the weather."

You smile in agreement, and the silence that follows is pleasant and welcome - like the ocean breeze gently blowing against your skin.

The next few days you busy yourself with familiarizing around town. While running an errand for your aunt, you come across a huddle of fishermen - gazes grim.

"Looks like it's about to rain," one of them says, "can't go fishing at this weather."

You hear another fisherman let out a grunt, just as you near their huddle.

"We can't always hope for a fair weather all the time. The ocean spirit can only do so much for us common folk."

An ocean spirit? You halt in your steps unconsciously, curiosity urging you to listen more. One of the men seems to notice, and lets out a hearty laugh.

You feel yourself flush in embarrassment at being caught listening.

"Curious, eh?" he says as the others turn to you as well, wearing matching amused smiles - at the very least, they didn't look like they were mocking you. "Never heard of an ocean spirit before?"

"Spirits aren't... exactly common in the city," you find yourself responding.

They nod in understanding. "Too urbanized," one of them says - a man sporting a huge scar underneath his left cheek, "they're more powerful and stronger when they're in their natural habitats."

It's your first time hearing of the existence of such spirits. "What does the spirit look like?"

They share amused glances, like you've just asked them of an inside joke you didn't know they had. "Well it depends on how the spirit wants to look like. But you've already met her, if that's what you're asking."

Their words echo in your mind until the next day as you watch the waves once more. It crashes against the sand and washes towards your feet - you watch it retreat.

A smell of the ocean breeze creeps up on you, and you feel a presence beside you.

"Mind if I join?"

His voice is deeper this time, different from her softer lilt - the one that reminds of you of early morning rays, the calm rippling of the ocean accompanied by the glittering sunlight. His voice feels like the warm ocean water soaking you to your thighs, gently swayed by the waves moving to and fro.

You turn to meet his gaze.

"You never told me you were an ocean spirit."

Unfazed, he smiles. "You never asked... plus, I didn't intend to hide it in the first place."

You entertain him with your company - his eyes gazing at you with keen interest as you share about your life in the city.

"—and what brings you to this peaceful little town?"

"Just... vacation," you shrugged, "I'm heading back to the city after a few weeks."

He frowns, but quickly covers it up with a serene smile. "That's a shame. Can't you stay a little bit longer?"

"I'm not meant for the seaside life," you respond; and it's true. You were not born with the ocean breeze to greet you in the morning, and the sound of birds singing the days away, nor the sound of waves lapping against the shore. You were born with the hustle and bustle, the sound of heavy traffic and hurrying men and women getting to one designation to another, and the smell of smoke permeating in the air.

It can be said, yes, that you can get used to a simplistic life at the beach but could you really? Not when your subconscious mind tells you that there's more to do at home, things to finish, projects to oversee, friends to keep up with, a life that you cannot afford to upend because your comfort has already rooted in the city, and it would be foolish to uproot it in an environment that it has to get used to after it has already matured.

"Oh."

He quietens after that. The waves are audibly more harsher as they crash against the shore, thrashing and lashing even beneath clear blue skies. The ocean spirit is not mad, but it rolls off of him in the waves.

And days turn to weeks — the waves only get harsher. Fishermen stand by the shore, scowling and frowning as the rough waters force them not to travel the nasty waves. What good is their livelihood if they do not live to return anyway?

The ocean spirit is nowhere to be seen, and there's no way to bargain or to ask what's wrong — like he has just disappeared down the depths.

The day of your departure comes, bags packed and a sense of anticipation to be back home thrums in your veins. As the car rumbles to life, thunder crackles in the air and lightning strikes — a flash flood comes surging towards the shore.

Cries of surprise and fear erupted from the villagers as the waves slammed against them, like claws tightening their hold on their prey. Was this the work of their ocean spirit? The gentle soul who would listen to the grandmothers' tales of their young love and misadventures like a child listen's to a fisherman's tale of braving the storms.

Or was the ocean spirit holding themselves back all along, now only deciding to let go of their restraints and let the humans feel the full blow of the ocean without their careful watch. Humans, who have since been uses to their less than concerning storms, unfit to respond to such a devastating occurrence — too panicked and fearful to flee away to higher ground.

You watch as the waves continue to drown more and more people, and a lone figure standing on an elevated rock formation. Has it been there all along?

Your feet moved before your mind can catch up to it, wading through the waters to reach the figure. They notice your presence and, serenely, smiles at you.

"Hello," they greet, like the storm all over them is not happening at all, "wanna watch the ocean with me?"

"You need to stop," you insist instead, ignoring their invitation. "The villagers are drowning."

They merely watch, and hum. "That's a shame, isn't it?" they murmur. How can they be so cruel? No — have they been this heartless all along? What of the person who the people sing praises of? "Perhaps they should start to learn to get used to it."

You hear the wail of a mother. You can only imagine what made her cry with such devastation.

"After you've given them protection?"

"Aren't we all victims to the whims of the weather?" They hum, "then perhaps, we're all also just victims to the whims of the ocean."

"And what would change the ocean's whim right now?"

As though waiting for that inevitable question to be asked, they smiled. "For you to stay."

Another harsh wave ravages the village, and they smiles at you with a calm smile — calm as the waves of the ocean should be — as more cries and sobs, pleas for help fills your ears.

"Well? Will you stay, or will you let everyone drown?"

[deadsetromance]

IN THE WEE SMALL HOURS OF THE MORNING

(not my gif!)

gerard way x gn!reader

summary: he's your roommate...but maybe he's more than that.

warnings: unedited writing, fluff, no use of [y/n]

note: so sorry i haven't posted in forever! i have a few requests and a few more half-complete drafts, so hopefully those should be up soon <3

you supposed there were worse roommates out there. actually, thinking about it, you realized how lucky you were.

you got along really well with your roommate, gerard. he’d been sharing an apartment for nearly two years now, and you were sure you knew him better than you knew yourself.

you know he forgets to take the coffee pods out of the keurig, and sometimes he leaves the heater running for too long.

you don’t think you’ve ever seen him sleep. sometimes you wonder if he’s a vampire or something, what with the scribbling coming from his room at all hours of the night.

to be fair… you’re hardly any better. you sleep little more than he does, when you do fall asleep it’s usually on the couch, and you leave the television on all the time.

you’re incredibly lucky, you realize. lucky that he’s as sweet as he is, bringing you coffee in the mornings, and stopping by your job on his commute. he’s even slipped a few drawings your way. some are drawings of you, others are silly little doodles he gives you when you’re having a bad day. sometimes, he’ll show you characters for the comics he’s working on, asking for your input.

you realize that you’re lucky that he’s so helpful, that he’s not a creep, that you both get along so well. you’re lucky that you’ve found a friend who will sit and watch television reruns with you when neither of you can fall asleep.

that’s why you slip a record under his door one night. you don’t know if he even likes sinatra, but you give it to him anyway. there’s no special occasion really, you just thought of him when you found in the wee small hours in the record store you visited. you don’t sign your name on the post it you stuck to it. all you write is “from one insomniac to another”. you feel embarrassed for some reason you can’t place, and something slithers in your stomach. maybe you shouldn’t have given it to him…maybe he doesn’t like sinatra. it’s too late now though, it’s already done.

☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎

it’s late one night…or early, depending on how you look at it. you’re tired, whatever movie you were watching forgotten and on mute. you can hear gerard milling around in the kitchen, you can smell the coffee he’s brewing. you’re tired, but you can’t fall asleep.

“thanks for the record” gerard called from the kitchen. “i really liked it”

you smile, one of those hazy tired smiles, the kind you do when you’re between being awake and asleep. “i didn’t know if you liked sinatra, i hope it’s ok”

you miss the way he grins at you, too busy yawning.

“it’s great i actually…” he walked off in the middle of his sentence, a habit you’d noticed he had, only to come back with the disk in his hands. “do you mind?”

it didn’t matter if you said no, he already turned to put it on, smiling back at you as he dropped the needle to the record.

“what are we watching?” he asked, sitting next to you on the couch. close enough to be touching you, but still far enough to give you space. it’s like a paradox, you think, but then you tell yourself to shut up. you’re too tired to know what you’re talking about.

“i dunno, i stopped paying attention.” your eyes flit to the movie playing on the television, watching the car chase for a moment before turning your attention back to him. “you’re going to keep yourself up all night drinking coffee this late.” you might have frowned at him if you weren’t too busy beaming.

he knew you were teasing, you could tell by the glint in his eye. “i just need a few finishing touches on my project and then i’m done.”

you didn’t say anything more for a while, taking a moment to take everything in. the record playing softly in the background as you curled closer to gerard. his head resting on yours as you listened to his breathing, memorizing the pace of his heart.

it’s quiet…intimate, and you’re tired. tired and happy.

“you tired?” he questions softly.

“a little,” you don’t know why you’re whispering.

“do you work tomorrow?”

“yeah, i open,” you groan, rubbing your eyes. you think you feel him press a kiss to the top of your head, but you don’t want to get your hopes up.

it’s quiet again, though this time it’s too quiet. you’re left with thoughts of gerard running through your head, and you wish that one of you would say something. you should be ashamed, you scold yourself, thinking of him the way you do when he’s sitting right next to you.

“what are you thinking about?” he prods gently. he’s soft with you, the way he always is, careful not to overstep with his questions.

“nothing really,” you lie, because you’d rather not risk what comfort you have now. “what are you thinking about?”

it seems like he didn’t expect the question to be turned back on him. he hesitates, and the silence is thick…too thick. his face is illuminated by the light from the tv, and he looks nervous. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him look quite as terrified as he does now. the lighting shifts, and he’s blanketed in darkness again, but you notice something change in his eyes.

“i think i love you” he whispers against your ear.

you feel like you can’t breathe. you think you heard him wrong. you’re worried this is all a dream, a good dream, the kind that would leave you reeling when you wake up.

you want to hear him say it again.

you lean your head back against his shoulder, and he breathes out with a shudder. you watch the explosions on tv as your hand finds his. “i love you too.”

that’s it then, everything is out in the open. maybe you’re tired, but you sigh gently as he cups your face in his hands. thinking back, you can’t exactly pinpoint when your feelings for him changed, but you suppose it doesn’t matter now. he loves you and you love him. it’s surprisingly simple.

“can i…?” he doesn’t need to finish his question as you lean in closer to him. his breath is warm, and he smells like coffee and sleepless nights, and you’re waiting for him. your eyes are closed as you breathe him in, and they stay that way as he kisses you softly.

he’s…soft, softer than you imagine, and you can’t help but smile.

in the wee small hours of the morning, he is yours, and you are his.

[memesfortas]

"The Thief" Sentence Meme

All quotes are dialogue pulled from the book "The Thief" — Book 1 of the Queen's Thief series by Megan Whalen Turner Change pronouns, proper nouns, verb tense, etc as needed! Made by Joly (theshirallen)

"What, haven't you escaped yet?"

"We might someday attain a relationship of mutual respect."

"For now, I will have your obedience."

"Some things take time."

"I think it's going to take a lot of time. I think it could take the rest of your life."

"Idle boasts, I suppose."

"I can steal anything."

"Well, you've learned to keep your mouth shut, at least."

"I want you to steal something."

"Don't try to be smart. You don't pretend well."

"Do you announce that you're going off to steal something before you start?"

"None of your business. Just keep your mouth shut, do you understand?"

"He's exhausted, that's all."

"Not exactly stalwart, are you?"

"Look, I'm very clean. Why am I washing again?"

"Where did you get so dirty?"

"What a lie that was."

"You can keep your civility to yourself. You don't talk to anyone, do you understand?"

"That was absolutely the most awful thing that has happened to me in my entire life."

"You'll make yourself sick."

"I don't want to get up. I want you to go away."

"I didn't plan this trip with your comfort in mind."

"I'm a lot more important than anyone else here."

"Most people find it galling to lose their freedom."

"Do you mean that we are out here in the dark looking for something from a fairy tale?"

"No one would mistake you for anything but a tool."

"Everything about you reveals your low birth."

"This is boring. How come boring makes me so tired?"

"Everybody goes to the temple, and everybody likes to hear the old stories after dinner, but that doesn't mean they expect a god to show up at their door."

"Tell me what other mistakes I made."

"Uneducated people rarely know much about the things they talk about every day."

"You're the one who doesn't know anything."

"A successful thief doesn't depend on things being unlikely to happen."

"If he finds out I want to stay, he'll take me away."

"Don't match your weakness against your opponent's strength."

"Glad to see someone is alert, if a little bit late."

"What are you looking at, sewer filth?"

"A little circumspection might be wise for someone in your position."

"You learn something new every day."

"What are you learning?"

"How can he look down his aristocratic nose at the unwashed masses when he's as poor as everyone else?"

"I bet he wakes up every morning and can't stand it."

"No. You're not going to tie me up."

"They're dead, too, stupid."

"Be blessed in your endeavors."

"I have work to do, and I don't like to work with bruises."

"Gutter scum can't fight its own battles."

"Gutter scum gets drafted into the infantry and fights for a worthless king, and hangers-on like you watch."

"That's treasonous!"

"Do I care?"

"His kind only ever serve themselves."

"Oh? And who else are you serving?"

"No unpleasantness, I trust?"

"This is where you earn your reputation."

"Do you come to offer, or to take?"

"Don't get yourself drowned on the first try."

"I don't know how it might happen, but if you fail, we are all lost together."

"I couldn't find it. I couldn't find anything."

"When you have returned to the land of the living, I have some questions to ask."

"Damnit. What were you doing all night?"

"I was tripping over prybars."

"I hear and obey, which is more than you have ever done."

"I have the highest respect for a craftsman."

"I'm trying to rob a god's temple, and you think I should worry about the ghosts of a few dead men?"

"Do not offend the gods."

"It is a great relief to my conscience that you are not drowned."

"We are alive, and you are alive, so this expedition was at least not the disaster of earlier ones."

"Do you have any doubts?"

"I just don't understand why I am so sure."

"I see you found a safe place to wait while we were busy."

"A little danger adds spice to life."

"I can't pull food out of the sky for you."

"How do you propose to get food?"

"You are going to steal it."

"I'll make sure we all go to the block together."

"It's not your job to think."

"You'll do your best, and if you best isn't good enough, we'll all go to the block together."

"Do you have any idea how impossible this is?"

"I thought you could steal anything."

"Things don't make noise."

"I'm not going back to prison."

"You think I would take you back to the prison?"

"You think I would trust you?"

"You don't have time to waste forcing me."

"Fine! Go die on the swords of the [name]. Be drawn, be quartered, be hung. I don't care!"

"What possible difference would it make to me?"

"Leave me a sword, and I'll do my best to slow them down."

"Just leave me alone. I'm fine. Go away."

"We saw everything from the top of the cliff."

"The only thing he can do with a sword is steal it or sell it."

"I've never seen someone win against that many men."

"I don't want him to be dead."

"The bleeding stopped and you will probably be all right, as long as you don't get a fever."

"Yes, that was a silly question."

"I owe you many apologies."

"I'll always wonder what you saw."

"Won't tell me, or can't?"

"I don't believe he holds you in high regard."

"And you will not break your promise?"

"You are more beautiful, but she is more kind."

"All I'm wearing is bandages."

"I think that I am more of an asset than a liability."

"All she wants from you is a promise of your service."

"Can we stop discussing this just now?"

"The river is running the wrong way."

"She might let me go as well. But she'd probably like best to catch me, and let you slip away."

"If you could be anywhere you wanted right now, where would it be?"

"Don't faint."

"I can manage, I promise."

"All my beauty gone."

"It might heal clean."

"This is not for us to figure out."

"You viper."

"I'm glad to see you looking better."

"I've decided not to give you the satisfaction of gnashing my teeth."

"She'll be plotting an elaborate revenge."

"Am I plotting an elaborate revenge? No, I haven't been able to think of anything adequate."

"He was clever. It's too bad he was a fool, too."

"I think you need more rest."

"I'll get up, and find someone else to tell me."

"The court is greatly impressed."

"People were careful not to offend her."

"I couldn't stand it, I think."

"It doesn't belong in this world."

"Stop biting your lip and say it."

"Anyone lucky enough to be married to you would count his blessings."

[mydearestbeloved]

Firstly, I would like to apologize for accidentally deleting this ask (good thing I always screenshotted my inbox) and for the late response. My apologies, dear Anon. 🙏

Secondly, in that case, welcome back to the bandwagon! 🎉

As for me, isekai—well, to be specific, isekai-romance—is still going strong as my favorite since I discovered it. Glad you noticed the many inspirations/references/classic tropes/clichés that I used, 'cause writing those are the privilege I want to abuse the hell out of when writing my own isekai fiction. Asdfghjkl

If it’s not obvious enough, I even deliberately made Trial Player!Reader aware of the clichés she's living through with direct mentions in-story. And while they serve their due depending on the moments' context (two obvious examples being showing TP!Reader’s inner fangirl and my poor attempt at rom-com XD), I actually made them quite relevant to the story! Say, implications of TP!Reader's personality & how she views everything about her situation, her knowledge & awareness, her thought process & imaginations—maybe even serving as foreshadowing, hints, and or a nod toward her truth, fate, & destiny. 🤫

Good to know you like what’s going on in the story so far. Indeed, there’s more going on with TP!Reader’s ‘connection’ with the Absolute Being, and while I can’t spoil much, one aspect that’s already implied to be playing a part—which I can say for now—is that these two are like reflections in a mirror—same features but also flipped. So, not quite the same but also not quite opposites at the same time. Creator-Mother, Entertainment-Spectator, Indifference-Love—these are just some examples.

Also, you know when Ashborn and Jinwoo go like, “I am you and you are me”? In a rough comparison, the Absolute Being and TP!Reader might go like, “What is beyond the reflective surface? Are we really the same? What of the other glass?” Basically, in a nutshell, I’m giving TP!Reader the amalgamation identity crisis of the big three isekai: reincarnation, transmigration, and summoning—all in one go. LOL😅

Now, while I did say in the past that I already have a rough idea for TP AU's sequel in Solo Leveling: Ragnarok (placeholder name for now: Guide AU), I haven’t looked back and developed it further past a very general synopsis draft. Partly because I’m already so busy with college and writing TP AU, and mostly because I don’t know much about SL: Ragnarok’s story. I’m not motivated enough to read the novel, and while I might be more motivated to read the manhwa, both are still ongoing, and to add to that, I heard that the manhwa diverges from the novel. I just don’t have that much time to catch up. T_T

In conclusion, while I do want to make this story an AU that can be freely and easily imagined with canon, I can’t promise that it’ll be entirely canon-compliant information-wise—especially for details that were elaborated more in SL: Ragnarok. So, I apologize in advance for this, but I feel obliged to advise you to keep your expectations low regarding any connecting-information pertaining to the sequel made in the current TP AU. That said, I’ll still try to make those connections as best as I can, and hopefully, they’ll come out good enough. 🤞

Reading the comments and asks from everyone has always been a joy. So, thank you for reading my works and for sharing your thoughts, dear Reader! 💕

[mononijikayu]

kayu's comms corner;

hello, this is kayu!!!

here i write and express what could be in my writing commissions.

first and foremost, both my writings, paid or not, are treated with equal care and affections. commissions would however be taken with priority in terms of delivery to the consumer/reader.

secondly, the slots count per series is counted depending on how much time i can write in between my regular fic updates and my regular day to day. however, i will express how much slots are open from time to time and how much per series i can intake.

other than that as of currently - there will be five concurrently for this first series and are currently open for those who want to get slots for these fics!!!

thirdly, i will not charge for anything i write extra. if you only paid for five thousand words and i exceed it to seven thousand because of the way the story fits - then i will not charge anymore than what you paid for. everything after what we agreed on is a bonus.

consequently, i write rather fast (primarily because i don't like doing things half done, as i forget about it rather fast)

so the duration of completion would be from a week or two and if im am busy, then a few weeks to a month. but that is depending on what needs to be written and just as much, my capabilities.

i will inform you about it one way or another and ensure that you will hear updates from me. from the beginning, half completion to the completion of the project.

however, on the occassion that i cannot finish the project, i will provide a full refund and finish the work as an apology along with the drafts that could be made along the way.

for the rates, please refer to this chart below:

for the rates - i don't wanna go up as much because i know a lot of people are also dealing with a lot and i said this before, but i do not want to charge so much. so for me, each commission is just you buying me a coffee and or a snack in the afternoon, like a barter. so i will not up my charges, either.

and this is my first time doing this in a more broader manner and so i also do not want to charge much because i am new to fic commissions and so, this is what i feel i currently deserve as a newbie in this situation. so, maybe one day i'll up my price but for now - this is what i feel comfortable getting paid for commissions.

if you are interested, please do not be hesistant to dm me over on here or request for me on ko-fi. and we can talk about the finer details of the commission, such as the themes especially such as nsfw themes and the relationships and pairings.

it is better for me to know where your limits and comforts are with things you read, so i may be able to give them to you. so let's have an in-depth conversation about this!!!

payment can also be made through pay-pal and ko-fi and such payments can be made half when the commission is begun and half when the commission is finished - as to ensure that there is trust between both sides of the aisle.

and also, here below is what i primarily will and enjoy wholeheartedly writing for:

fic continuations, prequels, or sequels: whether it’s expanding a world i’ve already gone and built or diving deeper into your favorite stories, for which i’m happy to extend existing works.

nsfw content: these are all inclusive of dark themes, with clear boundaries discussed beforehand.

reader-inserts: these are regarding how you may customize to your preferences and narrative style.

oc-inserts: here, i will incorporate unique characters with specific traits (e.g., skin tone, hair color, eye shape, etc) seamlessly into your commission request.

custom requests: there are for any other ideas or scenarios you’d love to see come to life—just let me know!

finally, some closing notes

any thing is on the table for continuation, in terms of my series or other one off works and their respective reader inserts. which means you hold the ball for that such situation and i am happy to oblige you for that.

for example, you liked one of my toji fics and think there's something to be explored for that - then you can come by and ask if this could be expounded for you specially in the ways that you want me to do it.

another thing is that you have the choice if you would like for this to be privately delivered to you via email or via private messaging. that is something that you could have and enjoy.

but if you want it for public viewing, whether in ko-fi or whether on tumblr, you may tell me and i will tag you and mention it on my note when it is posted.

this such option is entirely up to you and you only. so please, let me know what you'd like regarding this as preference.

i feel as though that this is all i have to express thus far and this will change as i start to develop as a writer and my schedule and availability.

so if you have any other questions, please tell me and i will try to get back to you as soon as possible.

yours truly, once again, kayu x

commissions i've done

you belong with me — nanami kento.

somebody does love (but im thinking ‘bout you)— ryomen sukuna.

pretty woman — nanami kento.

almost like falling in love — nanami kento.

[katyspersonal]

fbdbd hi sorry I’ve just been rotating your post about Heolstor and the grafted blade greatsword/weeping peninsula and I need you to know that it’s enriched my reading of Nightreign as a whole.

Like, I know this almost certainly isn’t the Intent behind nightreign but it’s my headcanon now that the other nightlords are his former/slain comrades reborn or rediscovered (since to me it then explains why they all cooperate with each other despite being very different and adds some flavor to me in how they all are sorta subservient to Heolstor and he borrows their elemental affinities n stuff in his fight)

The timeline for a few of em simply Wouldn’t Work Out (without some convoluted time things at least) but I find it really fun to think about, n it all just stemmed from your one post

This post, for the context:

jdfsjfddfhdsfh I am so glad people are liking this post, and that you are getting inspiration from it! Yeah, sometimes you can just say that "it is probably not what the writers intended, but it is fun so I'll take it". It is compelling from emotional standpoint, too!

Yeah, all the minor Nightlords seem to be contrarian to the Erdtree / Golden Order, if not straight up wronged by it too!

Triple wolf species of Gladius otherwise is only seen in Farum Azula, and might have been deified, since it is where Elden Ring used to be before. Might have been a victim of cultural shift where Golden Order started to condemn them, just like they did with previous deified Crucible Knights and Misbegotten

Adel was a drake! The Erdtree people jumped straight onto hunting drakes to eat their hearts after allyship with Ancient Dragons! We never knew why Bayle rebelled against Placidusax, it easily wasn't nothing! But even in that case, why the whole species should suffer for what their progenitor did? And it was not Marika's and Godwyn's business to adopt Ancient Dragons' side into their politics!

With Gnoster, you could speculate that the reason for climate change that forced them to evolve and drove them away was somewhat Marika's doing. Erdtree usurped the role of Sun and life, so there might have been a bit of shift like "oh you don't need to depend on climate and weather anymore, I will just personally hand boon of life and nourishment from my own hands :)". So maybe rains stopped for it to always shine... until they didn't (Weeping Peninsula cough cough)

Maris is the same "species" as Elden Beast but devoid of role, nothing left to say! Greater Will sent Elden Beast as its last falling star, and established life as connection with golden grace and golden amber. Blue spirits like jellyfish, and blue stars that horrified Azur and Lusat, exist 'outside' of it, like a hidden part of existence, or cancelled early draft.

Libra is a demon, creating the Gold that should only be domain of Elden Ring, and whoever currently owns it, through alchemy. "Heretical" is probably an understatement here x) His opinions probably go beyond how the age of the Erdtree itself is very unfair and full of Marika's own biases, but the concept of a God that owns Elden Ring and creates laws of nature is unfair, and the fact that Greater Will does thing and Frenzied Flame is kind of just there until someone seeks it is unfair, and Two Fingers being everywhere but Three Fingers being just little feeble sealed creature is unfair... yeah. Bro probably thinks fondly of Shabriri for contributing to the balance; the "feel too sad and you will unleash Frenzied Flame" disease was his doing!

Fulghor worshipped Old Gods that got replaced with the Golden Order! If Gloam-Eyed Queen is the snake that is "Erdtree's traitor", and her apostles killed Gods, it might mean that many of those fell because of Marika, not only Fell God! He could never let go of the old times, and honestly? Fair enough

Caligo is an Ancient Dragon, but a unique one, as her body lacks the gold everyone else of this species lacks. Similar concept to Seath being the only Everlasting Dragon that lacked scales. The thing is, 'gold' was made the measure of all things, it was the measure of someone's very species' worth. Albinaurics and Silvertears are loathed for lacking it. For all we know, she had a hard time showing up in public, because she was condemned. Maybe even attacked, for being """impure""" Ancient Dragon. And you know it would be, ironically, someone from Ancient Dragons Cult to do so because it is Fromsoft. (I also know Libra tried to offer her to "fix" it but she is too wise for this kind of tricks so she just put him in the ice cube and kicked him away each time fsdhfhds)

And Heolstor, who challenged Godfrey? Yeah, he for sure was against the Erdtree. He might have met these characters before, and fate brought them back together! I'd like to imagine how he avoided Adel eating him XD If Adula is of any indication, drakes might pledge loyalty to the one who defeats them in a combat but spares their life. Maris was never interested in anything before the Night, but maybe Heolstor was previously interested in them.

What I like here is that the grudge goes beyond how Marika and Godfrey just arrived and ruined everything fdshdshf It could be this way in his eyes, as he was literally just a guy, but these other characters are familiar with an even older history of having the grudge with the Elden Ring and Gold. Some are through generations and culture, some are personally! Nox were challenging it before Marika was even born, after all! Everything that by 'Gold' was thrown away got washed in the same spot and accumulated.

[the-whitching-hour]

First Night (Asher/Babe)

first and foremost, sorry for being a liar lol. it's almost been a year since I posted the draft which is crazy to think about. idk if this is worth that long of a wait but I still hope you enjoy it <3

Summery:

“Well I’m sorry I can’t roam around with you tonight, but we can still hang out.” “…We can?” “If you aren’t gonna stay at your place just come to mine. Sorry, it’s not as fun as an adventurous night on the town.” Asher has seen their place. Glimpses of it as they open the door to leave with him for a date of quick flashes behind them as they walk around their apartment on video call. But, This was something different. They’re asking him to stay. “Are you sure? I don’t wanna impose plus I don’t wanna keep you busy tonight if you have something import-“ “I want you to be here. I'm sure Asher.” “Oh-okay. Then yeah I-I’ll be there. See you soon Babe.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   Asher sleeps over at Babe's place for the first time.

Word count: 3.2K

Asher drummed his fingers on the steering wheel of his car as he sat in the parking lot of his apartment building. Subconsciously biting his bottom lip softly as he pressed his phone against his ear. Waiting for his favorite sound to replace the phone’s ringing. 

“Hey.” 

A smile spread across his face as he heard their voice. Over the course of a few weeks, they had become such a pillar in his day-to-day life. Sometimes Asher can’t even believe that he hasn’t known them for half a year yet. Everything about them just pulled him in immediately. The soft sound of their voice was enough to make him feel a little flustered.

“Hi.”

 Asher was used to noise, especially his own. He knew how to keep the energy up even in the most awkward situations. It was probably the only skill he was fully confident in when he became his best friend’s beta. Ever since he was a kid he’s been filling up the room with noise. It’s not a good or bad thing, just the way he’s always been. 

He was a bit scared during those first few dates. They were almost exact opposites. They were so quiet. present, he could see the way their eyes followed him, how their face would react to his words, the occasional soft smile that made his head feel like he needed to pass out and run a marathon simultaneously. It was like they thought every word through, only speaking when they had the answers. They felt no need to fill the room as they thought. It was so foreign at first, to sit there in silence next to them. 

That fear faded into comfort. They were like a safe haven away from the usual expectations of his persona. He loved his friends and family more than anything, but it was nice to have a place where he didn’t need to “perform” anything, he could just sit there and show another part of himself. Or he could be as noisy as he wanted to be for as long as he wanted. They didn’t seem to mind; their eyes were always on him, and they had the same comforting and exposing look. No matter what version of himself he was, they always looked at him the same.

The sound of their quiet breaths static on the phone was soon replaced. The two are overtaken by childish giggles. It was almost embarrassing the way they made him feel. Asher felt like some middle schooler who was talking to their first partner ever over the phone. Nervous and giddy by every moment between them. 

“So, what’s up with you?” It was so unfair how they made words sound. Like every syllable was made to naturally flow out their mouth. It sounds ridiculous but nothing else can explain the 

“Nothing now but, hopefully, you could change that!” Asher couldn’t hold in the excitement of his voice. His cheeks were a bit sore from smiling but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. “Are you free tonight?”   

They made a small hum. Dragging it out, almost teasing him by holding back the answer. 

“That depends, free to do what?”

“Restaurant, club, midnight movie, whatever. I’m trying to avoid my apartment tonight so I'm down to go anywhere!”

Asher felt their slight hesitation. The pause wasn’t their usual quiet. He heard a faint sigh of disappointment come from them. “I mean… we don’t have to do anything tonight if you don’t want to. Sorry, I know it’s like super short notice. It’s cool if you don’t wanna do any of that stuff or if you don’t wanna hang out at all, trust me I understand.”

“No, that’s not the problem. I like hanging out with you, I’d do it all the time if I could Asher-“ he could feel a warmth spreading through his chest. “But I can’t be out all night. I have an early meeting tomorrow and I gotta tell my boss about the progress of this stupid project I’ve been put on to. Is everything ok at your place? Don’t tell me David finally kicked you out.”

“I told you that softy would never, no matter how many kitchen fires I start. I’m actually doing him a favor. The big guy actually has a date tonight with this mystery person he’s been seeing. Apparently, they eat like shit so he’s gonna cook for them. Maybe they’ll even have a little desert if you know what I mean.” Asher couldn’t help but laugh at his own joke, good thing it was funny enough to make them laugh too.

“Well I’m sorry I can’t roam around with you tonight, but we can still hang out.” 

“…We can?”

“If you aren’t gonna stay at your place just come to mine. Sorry, it’s not as fun as an adventurous night on the town.” 

Asher has seen their place. Glimpses of it as they open the door to leave with him for a date of quick flashes behind them as they walk around their apartment on video call. But, This was something different. They’re asking him to stay. 

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna impose plus I don’t wanna keep you busy tonight if you have something import-“

“I want you to be here. I'm sure Asher.” 

“Oh-okay. Then yeah I-I’ll be there. See you soon Babe.”

***

After trying not to die of embarrassment when he ended the phone call Asher drove over to their apartment. He walked up to their place, constantly wiping his palms on his jeans to keep them dry. 

He made his way up to their place and knocked on their door. Barely a second after he knocked Asher was met with a smiling face. They were dressed casually with some loose-fitting pants and an old comfy shirt he had seen them wear a couple of times when they video-called each other. They leaned against the door frame, looking back at him with an unwavering smile. Asher could feel a similar one on his face.

They reach out their hand to hold his, gently pulling him through the door into their living room. Closing the door behind him, the two stood together in their living room. Only a few inches from each other, just standing there looking into each other’s eyes. With their hands still clasped together Asher was debating between holding their hand tighter or finding a discreet way to pull his hand away and wipe it dry again.

“Hi,” he said quieter this time. Barely above a whisper. “...again”

Their lips muffled the chuckle on his. His mind went blank instantly, focusing on the sensation of their soft lips pressed onto his. Asher wrapped his arms around their body, pulling them closer and deepening the kiss.

“Hey,” By the time Asher noticed they pulled away, their lips came right back. Feeling a bit bold, Asher let his hands trail down their sides till he got down to their hips, his thumb massaging small circles through their pants. Their hands made their way up his body to his head. They tangled their hands in his hair. 

He genuinely tried to keep his voice down, but Asher wasn't used to being quiet. A breathy whimper came out of his mouth when he felt them slightly tug on his hair. With his head tilted back Asher could see the knowing smile on their face. “…Again.”

They leaned back into his space. Their lips grazed against his. He was about to lean back in when a loud sound made him pause. 

Asher’s face burned from embarrassment as the loud rumbling of his stomach reached his ears. Their hand moved from Asher’s hair to his shoulder, giving a comforting rub as they tried to hold in their obvious laughter. 

“Get comfortable and I’ll be right back.” Asher felt a small kiss press against his cheek before watching them walk away. He could still see that foxy grin on their face that they tried to hide from him.

Asher lugged his body over to their couch and threw himself on it. The one day he skips lunch just cause he was too lazy to cook just had to be today? Fuck, why didn’t he just ask David, or grab a cheap snack, or eat one of those nasty healthy granola bars David’s always carrying around?

Staring up at the ceiling, he let out a long sigh and mumbled to himself. “Great job Ash, way to kill the mood.”

***

“Lucky you, I ordered some food earlier. Just enough left for two.” They walked back into their living room with two paper plates. 

They sat down next to him, their thighs grazing against each other. Asher sat up on the couch, he pressed a quick kiss on their cheek while taking the plate from their hand. “Thank you, Babe.”

The night came before Asher could even think. They ate, laughed, and rolled around on the couch for hours. Asher was laying down with his head propped up with a pillow, they were on top of him. Their head was resting on his shoulder as had a movie playing in the background that he basically tuned out as he looked at them in such a relaxed state. The sun had set a while ago, the natural light left the room leaving the two in the dark with only the tv screen in the dim room.

Asher’s arms were loosely around their torso, mindlessly stroking their back. With their chest against his he could feel the subtle beating of their heart, his own matched the rhythm. It’s almost scary how addicting this is, how addicting they are. Ever since they met Asher has felt like he’s just been living on some weird high, he doesn’t want to admit it but he’s almost been waiting to crash. It’s not because of them, they're great, really great, but there’s no way this could last forever like statistically, right? It’s almost too good to be true. It’s getting to the point where he just wants to see them everyday; Texting every day, calling each other all the time, David had a small grin their whole gig the night after they fell asleep on the phone together like some puppy love teenagers. he could’ve crashed at Milo’s, or maybe bug Christian for a few hours if he wanted a good laugh, but he barely even considered it. He just called them.

Is this too fast? Maybe he’s too pushy, did they feel like they had to say yes to him coming over today? 

But they invited him. He didn’t mention staying the night, they’re the one who insist that they wanted him here. They're in his arms right now so he can’t be that bad.

This is a good thing, just focus on the good thing.

Why can he never just focus on a good thing? Nothing bad is going to happen. This is good, they are good, everything is good. 

Am I good?

The silence is starting to get to him. His foot rapidly tapped against the opposite arm of the couch. He feels like there's cotton shoved down his throat, every time he swallows the feeling only gets worse.

Maybe he can slip away, just lock himself in their bathroom for a few minutes and slap some sense into himself. 

He can’t slip away; they're literally on top of him.

This is so stupid. Everything was good, everything was great. He literally just ruined it for himself, nothing was wrong but just couldn’t let himself relax. His stupid brain just had to fill the quiet in his mind, now he’s spiraling like an idiot as they just cuddle with him.

“-Ash?”

He blinked and pulled his eyes from the ceiling to them. The static in his mind quiets down to hear their voice.

“Hmm, what was that babe?”

“The movie’s over, you wanna go to sleep yet?” They mumbled, a hint of drowsiness in their voice.

Asher didn’t even realize how dark the room was, the tv showing the faint white text of names as the music faded out. He could only see the faintest outline of their features as they shifted on his chest to look at him. 

“…yeah,” he said slowly as he sat up with them still in his arms, setting them down on his lap. “Sounds good to me.” 

They leaned in for a kiss, he had a brief moment of bliss as their soft lips touched his. The two pulled apart, looking at each other, it was mostly pointless in the dark but it still felt nice to do.

“You good, Ash?” Their hand reached up, pushing back his messy hair out of his face. He could hear the slight concern in their voice, even in the dark they could see him.

Good thing you’re not a telepath, I don’t think I could handle it. I can barely handle you now.

“I'm good babe, just tired.” It wasn’t a lie, probably. 

They held their position for a few more moments before planting a small kiss on his bare forehead. They stood up and grasped his hand, leading him from the dark apartment into the lowlights of their bedroom.

“I got some stuff lying around that should be able to fit you decently unless you rather sleep in your usual pajamas?” Asher could hear the small teasing in their voice.

He’s been sleeping in nothing but his boxers since he was a teenager, maybe throwing on some sweatpants on a cold night. 

It would probably be really nice, almost too nice. To just hold them against his chest in their bed, his senses just filled with them. Obviously the scent of them was strong in their own place but it was even better in their room. If he could shift right now he’d probably do it in a heartbeat just to commit it to memory, the rest of the pack could already smell traces of it when they shifted. He couldn’t wait to enjoy it himself straight from the source.

That sounds so creepy. 

It’s not creepy, it’s a wolf thing. They all do it so it’s not weird.

I should probably tell them I'm a wolf...

“Just toss me a shirt, I’ll be good.” 

Later.

He hands them a shirt. An old one that’s probably been tucked in their closet for a while.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom. I’ll be right back, go ahead and get comfortable.” 

His eyes lingered on them as they walked out, finally pulling away once they closed the door behind them. He took off his shirt and pants. Good thing they could see him look around their room in his underwear as he looked for somewhere normal to put his clothes instead of just throwing it on the floor like he would. He placed his somewhat folded clothes on a chair nearby. He picked up the shirt, their shirt, and slipped it on. He let out a soft sigh as he felt the fabric against his skin.

He made his way to the bed and lifted their blanket.

Shit! Which side of the bed do they sleep on?

He was saved from another spiral by their small yawn. They walked back into the room. They turned off the lights and walked up to him.

Asher pulled them into his side to give them a sweet kiss. Luckily they were drowsy enough to not notice him gently nudging them into bed first.

He climbed in after them. They pulled him in closer to them, he wrapped his arms around them and nuzzled into their side. They fit together well, holding onto each other naturally like it was second nature. It was hard for Asher to imagine how he ever slept without them, maybe one day he could do it every night.

“…Babe?” He mumbled against their skin.

“…Asher.”

“Thanks for letting me come over, I had a great time just relaxing all afternoon with you.” 

They let out a breathy chuckle as he felt their hold on him get a bit tighter.

“Anytime Asher.” They whispered back to him, any tension left from his mind as their light giggle reached his ears. The two lay together for the rest of the night, trading small laughs and whispers before falling asleep together.

(extra)

“Why,” he dragged out his whine as he laid on their bed. Enjoying the view of them getting dressed but still a bit upset to have to watch them leave. “You can’t just take the day off? Just this once, for me?” he continued to whine, borderline begging.

“I told you yesterday Ash, I gotta go.” they leaned down and pressed a kiss on his pouty lips before reaching past them to grab the shirt they laid out on the bed. “It’s just for the meeting and probably some busy work after. I'll be back before you notice.”

Asher followed them into the living room and leaned against the door frame, his sleep heavy eyes still following them as they went through the last few steps of their routine.

Everything felt so right. Talking, sleeping, doing nothing, doing everything, with them it was just so right.

Is this a spark or am i just weird? I haven't been this weird with my other partners. I just want to do everything with them. I wanna tell them everything… I should tell them everything. 

“Bye Asher, promise I'll come back as fast as i can.” He hummed in acknowledgment, leaning in to place one quick kiss before they left. Hopefully it can hold him over while they're gone. 

They grabbed their stuff and walked to the door.

“Babe,” they turned back in the doorway to look at him. His face felt hot as the words left his mouth but his heart was too far gone to stop himself. 

“I wanna talk when you get back… got a little surprise for you.” He gave them a small smile, not wanting to stress them out while they were at work.

They smiled back at him, nodding their heads before closing the door. Asher left in their apartment, in their shirt, with only a few hours to make a decent plan before they got home. 

He sighed to himself, his hands brushing through his hair. It’s a tough spot he put himself in, he had enough time to think of a way out but that would make him a quitter and if years of doing stupid (and borderline dangerous) dares from his pack mates proved he was anything like that.

He couldn't help himself. Desperate to just rip his heart open and let everything about him spill out on the floor. And, to do that he’d have to explain the entire secret world under their noise and completely change their entire view on their life. No big deal.

“...shit.”

  (extra extra)

Text message from: ShortStack

>don’t know what you did but you’re fucked. U want roses or daisies at the funeral?

Text message from: Sherlock

>you can barely get through secret santa but you thought you could keep this a secret??? 💀

You have one new voice mail from: Davey

“Ash, why the fuck is the department calling me about a breach in covert?”

[withered-blossoms]

𝑨𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒆 𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒆, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒆'𝒍𝒍 𝒇𝒂𝒍𝒍

A/N: This is the Self-aware Obey Me! Fanfic that 🌊 anon requested. It's been sitting in my drafts for months and now it's finally released after some touching up! The pronouns used for the character to be inserted are he/him since the only ones we can add on screen are the brothers and the dateables. This fic could either be platonic or romantic depending on how you view it, but I highly doubt it fits Luke, even if the fic is not intended (by the author) to be romantic, due to the slight swearing, so apologies to those who have the sweet child on their homescreen.

He had never paid much attention to the taps that he'd hear every day.

The first tap that reached his ears every morning without fail was his cue to open his eyes. Be it a force of habit or a mere reflex, his body had grown accustomed to waking up the moment this unusual alarm of his sounded.

It was indeed bizarre, but the world he lived in was already fantastical in its own way and so he brushed it off as some sort of magical phenomenon that he lacked knowledge in. As long as it did not affect his daily life, he had no need to spare any care for it.

That was not all though. He was also wrapped in a warm bubble of music despite not seeing any players. The melody was his cue, though he'd be lying if he said it wasn't like an opening theme song.

Huh, perhaps someone left their gaming device on?

That song was nice, though he had begun to get sick of it. Now that it served as his work alarm, it irritated him more than ever. But by some unknown power, he could only slap on a professional, customer service smile as he started another day on the stage, facing the dark, empty auditorium and prepared himself to speak his lines.

He knew not when those started, but he was aware that the day those rhythmic beats reached his ears, he had started sleeping like a baby every night — quite ironic, considering his age and how his kind, or well, him especially, never needed as much sleep as the humans living above them do. It was also from that moment onwards that he lost the grogginess that usually accompanied a peaceful slumber.

Sure, they were pretty annoying at first, but he slowly got used to them. He was grateful that they didn't follow the same rhythm every time, or he was sure he'd go insane. Following the same routine every day was already boring enough, and he was grateful for the unpredictability. When he got bored enough of speaking his usual lines to an audience invisible to his eyes, he'd busy himself with predicting how quickly the next tap would sound. Naturally there are no rewards for getting the timing correct, though it is no less satisfying for one who has to entertain an unknown audience very single day without fail.

.....An unknown audience? Ah right, he was in the spotlight this time. He had been for quite a while now, reciting the lines and dishing out the dance moves he was best known for, though to whom he had no clue.

Then one day, he started hearing a voice. Like a phantom in the opera, it was fleeting, soft, toying with his senses and luring him into a false sense of security. Feeding on his loneliness, making him desperate for more social interaction after YEARS of being alone on this damn stage—

All he knew was their voice, the occasional mumbles that notified him of their seemingly random thoughts. Occasionally about Devil Points, other times about Demon Vouchers, and perhaps a few complaints about "events" or "card strengths" here and there.

He thought about visiting the psychiatrist—perhaps he'd just gone mad from the solitude and started hallucinating.

But he could swear, on the one above, that as the days went by, the voice started to get louder and clearer than ever. The sound waves hitting his eardrums and being transmitted to his brain left him tingling, as if his neurones were a trail of gunpowder and the electrical signal a burning flame.

And the FAWNING— were they fawning over him? HIM? He finally had a fan? A seat taken up in the audience? After so many years?

The answer he got was the relieved yet slightly hysterical laughter that bounced off the walls. Perhaps it was a sign, that there were people alive in this blasted world. He couldn't say the same for the others he knew and loved, their eyes dead and empty, devoid of life and light. No longer did those orbs sparkle or light up, and no longer did their voices crescendoed. All that was left was flat emptiness, just like he's always been.

Eventually, he had a face to match the voice. Small glimpses, like the trailers of the movies he once loved, were teased. Sometimes it was of their eye, perhaps their nose and if he was lucky, their lips. He no longer focused on his work, opting to piece up the imagery he's got like a puzzle. Never had he been so determined to figure out the complete features of a person's face. So as he was trying to burn the colour of their eyes into his memory, he noticed that he could see a reflection of himself in those mesmerising orbs.

Strange, wasn't he standing on a stage? Why was he on this weird bright background and those weird apps to his left? He recognised a few, being those he often used, such as Akuzon, Devilgram and whatnot. But there wasn't a speech bubble in front of him either, he could swear up and down, even pinch himself as hard as he could and he still did not see what was apparently beside or in front of him.

So why? Why was it that their eyes were reflecting something entirely unknown and otherworldly? Why was it that their eyes weren't reflecting the reality he sees? At least the music was the same, but it didn't make any sense!

Why was there music? Why did the people he know have to work? What did "coming home" mean? Who was this person? Why did he have to come onto an empty stage and was forced by some unknown curse to stand there like a string puppet and recite lines he's never practiced but somehow knew? Where in the Devildom was he?!

Multiple questions demanding answers filled his mind but one thought stood out most: he had to get out of here immediately. He needed to see those he cared for, to make sure they're okay, Alive and safe. He needed someone, ANYONE, to tell him that what he saw was just his imagination and that everything is fine, he's just overthinking and that everything was normal.

A teleportation spell spilled from his lips in a quiet murmur. The person still gushing in the projection most likely wouldn't know if he did it sneakily. There was just a bit more to go, and he'll flee when they're distracted and then—

Red, blue, magenta, teal.

Flashing, glitching, static, seal.

Blank, troubleshoot, troubleshoot—

Reboot.

The magic flowing from his fingertips was the last thing he registered before darkness engulfed him.

Taps were once again transmitted to his brain via the vibrations reaching his eardrums. It was another day, another start. He's got a job to get to and he knows that well despite his exhausted groaning. What he couldn't comprehend was the question, a glowing engraving on the sole of his shoe, seemingly a warning from himself, telling him all that he needed to know:

"Where i̶n̶ t̶h̶e̶ D̶e̶v̶i̶l̶d̶o̶m̶ Ǭ̵̡̙̱̳̞͓̩̲̮̯̮̪̹͚̄̉̌̽̂̔̍͘͝n̷̮̒̀̍̅̍̕ ̴̞̼̮̩̪̝̐̀̎̂̏̉̔̃͋̅̓͠Ȩ̴̨͚͉̻̪̣̤̱̽̈́͛́̑͒́͋̽ͅa̷̬͐̐r̷̨̧͇̞͖̣͍͇͖͎̥͋̓͆̅̚͝ͅt̴̨͚͔̱͕͐h̸͔͍̺͈̼̀͋͊̏̓̎͠ are we?"

[peachdues]

Hey peach I know you said no lawyer stuff but can you explain the most recent post thank you bless

Mmmkay so basically, in the US, most of our day to day lives are controlled by federal agencies. Basically there’s an agency in charge of everything you can think of, but some major ones include the EPA, the FDA, USDA, Transportation, etc. that’s just some of them.

The people who head these agencies/work at them are largely considered industry experts — so you have environmental scientists at the EPA, engineers at Transportation, food and drug safety experts at the FDA, etc. etc.

These agencies, however, are created by the Executive or Congress (depending on whether it’s an executive agency or independent agency). Once the agency is created, Congress will then pass laws that speak to the agency’s authority, but more importantly, they’ll pass laws that fall within that particular agency’s expertise. So for example, there’s a limit on, say, the level of emissions a car can produce into the air. Congress passes that.

The problem (but not in a bad way) is that Congress is not made of experts in these industries — they’re politicians. So they don’t necessarily have the facilities to legislate as exact as they might like to, or the knowledge to make well informed legislative decisions.

Now, while Congress passes laws, agencies draft and pass regulations that enact those laws. The point of the regulations are to be specific and to conform to legislative intent as much as possible. These regulations are what actually affect your day to day life. So, for example, the FDA will enact regulations controlling food storage temperatures during transit that are specified to the kind of food that’s being shipped — think meat versus produce.

Obviously there are times where Congress isn’t exactly clear on the extent of an agency’s authority to enact those regulations — which opens them up to legal challenges. This is where Chevron comes in.

The Chevron doctrine is based on a Supreme Court case that basically said, when Congress’s language in a given regulatory/admin statute is ambiguous, courts will defer to the agency’s interpretation of that language since *they* are the experts. This made sense because, again, Congress is not made of experts and they also feasibly can’t think of every possible little thing that might come up/need definition/even understand what parameters need to be set. This was good — ideally, experts are acting in the interest of the field and not lobbyists (though don’t get me wrong — lobbying federal agencies is a lucrative business). But simply put, you *want* experts deciding what level of lead exposure is safe, or the amount of pollution being discharged. You don’t want Congress doing that.

But today’s decision overruled Chevron explicitly — meaning, deference to agencies is no longer the rule. Now, Congress will be expected to either legislate the crap out of things they already don’t know how to legislate for OR else leave the agencies unable to effectively regulate.

It’s a terrible decision (never mind the utter disregard this Court exhibits for stare decisis) but it’s one that WILL have very direct consequences on our daily lives.

Voting in November is important. I don’t like Biden, personally, but there is so much at stake in this election that we can’t afford not to vote for him at this point.

[deeisace]

Okay! Let's see now - ref to this post

@invisible-goats there's only two Geoffrey Wilson's in 1871 -

Under a readmore because I don't half talk, as you know

This one came up first -

From Leicestershire but living in Halifax, he and most of his family are working variously as bootmakers, plus a couple of spinners. His wife Mary is from Corby, in Northamptonshire, and you can track their travelling (ordinarily for work, but just like today, possibly for lots of different reasons) by where their 1, 2... 9 children were born

He is listed as "Modeller & Pattern maker (master)" which I would suppose means designing boots/shoes and maybe (probably) making like the ummm what's the word, like a first draft, no, mock-up? That'll do. I should imagine (and that is a broad use) that then his first 4 kids (Emma and Sarah are fitters & machinists - that's the sewing bit, mostly, and then James and Henry are riveters - I think that's the soles and eyelets bit), would chip in to make more of the designs that he'd made, rather than him doing the entire job himself, one boot at a time. Tiny weeny family-run workshop!

Apart from the boot trade, there's also Arthur, age 13, and Mary, age 11, who are worsted spinners! Mary is a "half-timer" - that is, she's not allowed to work over so many hours, because she's 11, and by this point there's some child labour laws in place. Not amazing ones, I don't think (given we still had children in factories and mines), but I suppose everything has to start somewhere? And worsted spinning (that is, making woollen thread, to go on to be used in weaving fabric), while not nearly as chill as spinning on a wheel at home is, because it was still being done in a steam-powered factory, may not have been quite as dangerous as weaver's work of the same era, depending on exactly what our Arthur and Mary were up to, and given I'm not certain of the scale of their workplace. There might still have been a fair bit of climbing under moving machinery to fix a broken thread. (Children are smaller and nimbler, say factory owners of the time, we need to put them in constant danger because they're the only ones that can do the job, and we don't need to pay them as much because their parents are probably also working for us for a pittance to stay out of the workhouse, it's a good idea it's fiiiiiine shhhh it's just good business they don't need to go to school they need to help their families earn (very little) money shhhh it's fine~~ *shoves an illiterate 12yo with missing fingers out of sight*)

Anyway.

Well now I want to find out how if Arthur and Mary grew up! Detour!

Here's Arthur in 1881, newly married and a mechanic!

(his brother Henry/Harry lives next door, still a riveter, and now married to a tailor's daughter and living with her family)

In 1921, he's now a tool maker's engineer!

He died in 1927, age 70, which is sad of course but I'm very glad he didn't die at 17 or something.

Let's see Mary -

She's still at home in '91, and a textile weaver now, a bit higher on the ladder than being a worsted spinner -

She gets married in '99, to an engineer (thereby becoming a housewife and stepmother, which while I can't imagine anything btter described a drudgery, at least it's probably broadly safer than factory work? depending on what type of man Joseph was, really), and her father and her niece (Harry's daughter) were their witnesses, which is always cute to see

She made it to 73!

Okay phew, back to Geoffrey -

Oh. How odd. 1881, a bit of a u-turn?

Firstly he's called "Jeffery", and secondly -

Still from we don't know where in Leicestershire, same wife same rabble of kids, but he's not a boot pattern maker? He's a Telegraph Case Maker! Clearly briefly, because above you can see he's back to boots in '91, but he's doing very alright for himself in '81, employing 5 men, 2 boy(e)s and 2 girls (some of those his children, still a family workshop!)

What on earth is a telegraph case when it's at home? I was hoping to search it and find lots of explanations, but nothing's come up. Maybe it's a miswriting of telescope? They have leather cases that need sewing!

Hang on, something like this? An actual wooden box/cupboardy thing to keep your telegraphy machine inside, originally? "Jeff" is trying to move with the times! Good on that man!

By 1901, he's now a retired pattern maker, being 76, and he dies in 1906.

Oh, I've found his marriage! 1847, Mary's maiden name is Ralph, and here he's "Geffry" lmao, and he's actually a joiner! So in the 80s he was going back to his original profession, then!

Wait,,,, I didn't read the first census correctly, it doesn't say boot trade on his line - he was always a joiner! Pattern maker as in joinery! Here's a tiny bit more on that, though years after Geoffrey.

Making models of things to then be made in metal! That's cool!

Maybe he started carving the casting models for telegraph machines, and then pivoted to making their cases himself? Who knows!

Right, next (last) one!

This one's different, he's 16 in 1871, and has a far better off family -

Six children at home, rather than nine, and they all have fun names (Rosamund, Geoffrey, Winifred, Grace, Marmaduke and Gwen), and they are all scholars, still at school rather than working, because~ -

Here's their parents! Frederick is an architect, surveyor and author! And Sarah is an "authoress"! That's blindingly rare for me to find, I have to see if I can find what they each wrote, hang on - Aha!

Here's her death notice in 1915. And a mention of Geoffrey!

Oh, Fred worked on all sorts of things -

(Alnwick Mercury 1870)

The R stands for Richard, if you must know.

Here's his obituary, which goes along with another man's, since they died the same day in May 1894.

Ummmm I forgot about Geoffrey again, hang about

Here he is in 1891, Town surveyor and sanitary inspector, with a wife called Jane and a son (also Geoffrey) and well off enough for a live-in servant (Jane)

And skip to 1901, same again but also another child, and a different servant who is also still called Jane

squints. did he have a thing about that name? lmao

Ah no, in 1911 their servant is called Magna. She's Norwegian! That's cool. I wonder how many Norwegians were living in Northumberland in 1911, hmm, that would be interesting to find out

Ah, now Jane is called Jeanie - and the 1911 census only asked basic questions, tho more detailed than previously, but this census taker has gone even further into detail (or, it was important to Geoff and Jeanie, to be noted, if they filled it in themselves). They have had 3 children - Geoff, there, and two who have since died - one son at a week old, and a daughter age 18. Oh, that would be Mary, who we see age 9 in 1901. Oh no, that will've been very recent for them then, within the last year or so, how sad. Let me see if I can find her in the papers - no luck on that front.

Hmm. I think that might be all I can find? Let me see about Geoff and Jeanie's deaths, if I can, and then we're done

Hm. Nope. Too many by that point, and there's not always ages given, so I can't narrow it down like that.

Anyway, there you go! Geoffreys Wilsons!

[aloneholy]

hi :-) do u have any advice on writing or pushing past blockages ... ? i saw u on my tl again and wondered about ur current projects i had past seen! thank you :-)

hi!! if i'm being honest this an eerily appropriate time to ask me this question, as i'm currently attempting to swim up to the surface after several months' long spot of hibernating in a thick soup of white noise, when it comes to working on creative projects.

so having considered this a little, this really depends on what stage you're in with your projects. when something is fresh and exciting to me i find it much easier to dive in and out of it between Life Events, so that work/progress just happens organically. but that doesn't last long.

right now i have two, shall we say, more advanced projects and both are stuck in something opposite of that fun stage. one of them is more or less finished irt the creative bit (full draft) but requires a tremendous amount of bureaucracy, strategising, humiliation and editing to try and progress it (which deprives me of the will to live every time I think about it) and the other is very much In-Progress but at a stage of writing that requires extensive research, skill and presence of mind to pull it off (i.e. 70k of rough draft with gaping holes to caulk with Matter. gaping holes which beg me to dig through dreary articles about, for example, late 19th century surgical malpractice or catholic convents)

neither of these things is easy to go back to when you've been, say, busy surviving and working a 9to5 day job or otherwise upending your life and you're trying to remember you had a different purpose in mind for yourself. so what i usually do is: i cheat. on my projects. with other, lesser, projects. newer, prettier ones. my side hoes if you will.

e.g. this year i started writing something really silly, that is a bunch of irreverent arthurian legend retellings, in order to get back into the habit of thinking in terms of storytelling at all. they didn't require a lot of deep thought But invited me to exercise some muscle by thinking in terms of short form and different stylistics.

and inevitably, i finally did lose patience with how aimless this felt AND made my way back to the 70k rough draft of queer victorian surgery. it even felt rewarding instead of intimidating. for a while. and then when i progressed this a little and it inevitably felt daunting again. so i did the cheating trick again. etcetera.

so advice number one: cheat! my second piece of advice is more situational; if you can, change your environment. the thing about me is that i'm a leaver who will leave and go somewhere else, but i am privileged enough to have the possibility of moving around relatively easy. if you don't, even just finding a new place to sit is something i've found helpful; i've spent half my undergrad loitering in coffeeshops barely noticing what went on around me. and well known places, like homes and studies and bedrooms, have a way of trapping you in safety, but also trapping you in inaction. so this is what i definitely recommend - take yourself somewhere else for a spot of defamiliarisation. and then write.

third piece of advice, perhaps even harder to cultivate these days with the sheer volume of exhaustion everyone seems to be coping with: READ. and WATCH things. consistently. something can and will wake you up and inspire you.