#I've had this ask in my inbox for pretty much the whole of May

[sceletaflores]

Being a professional masseur for players and taking care of our boy art.

Hes just so sad and so pretty that you just giving head to make him feel better 😔

Plot twist: he falls in love with you because duh? Hot+sex=you being promoted pookie, you are now the donaldsons elite employes!!!!!!

Baby, show me where it hurts...

pairing: art donaldson x fem!reader

summary: you never intended on becoming a "celebrity" massage therapist. you just wanted to be a massage therapist, the whole celebrity thing just sort of happened, you blame cali for that. but the novelty of your job wore off long ago, you hardly blink at the clients on your table nowadays. that is until tashi duncan calls you and absolutely fucks everything up

— or: art donaldson needs a massage therapist…

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, oral (m!receiving), oral (fem!receiving), p in v, fingering (fem!receiving), angst? maybe? could this be considered angst?, slight age gap, no tashi duncan erasure because i don't stand for that, cheating but not really cause tashi knows, she always knows, she is an all seeing eye, and she kind of orchestrates it, SOOOOO much plot, like way too much i'm sorry, art being sad and tired, art also being kinda pathetic a little bit, unprofessional massages, no use of y/n.

word count: 10k+ (someone stop me....pls still read this lmao)

author's note: this ask was blessedly placed in my inbox and it was all i’ve thought about since. this is my first big fic since my mike schmidt days so hopefully i'm not rusty! i've seen this damn cursed hell movie ten times, so hopefully i do it justice. i'm also still struggling sooo much with art and tashi as characters so please bear with me if they aren't movie accurate i'm trying my best. okay. thank you. hope you love it! mwah xoxo.

You don't get starstruck often, not anymore at least. The clients that find their way onto your table are just that in your eyes, clients. You don't see them as big time "celebrities”. Just men and women who need your professional help.

That being said, you almost dropped your phone the first time the Tashi Duncan called you.

It was a normal work day for you, spent buried in paperwork and training a new secretary. You're folding the steam room towels on your lunch break when your phone rings. No caller ID, you answer it anyways.

"Hello, you've reached Lush Retreat Med Spa," you rattle off into your phone, placing it between your ear and shoulder to continue folding. "How can we help you?"

"This is Tashi Duncan calling for Art Donaldson, we've heard great things about you and were hoping to schedule an appointment."

The towel drops from your hands, your mouth falling open in shock. You reach up to tightly grip your phone, not wanting to embarrass yourself by dropping your phone with Tashi fucking Duncan on the end of the line.

Of course you know who she is, but doesn't everyone? The tennis prodigy from Stanford who was on top of the world when a tragic knee injury stole everything from her in a single second. You absolutely idolized her when you were in high school and playing tennis competitively. You watched all the recorded matches you could get your hands on, wore your DUNCANATOR shirts to practice constantly, only bought the tennis rackets she used. You had her fucking posters plastered on the walls of your old bedroom for Christ's sake.

That was until you, ironically, shattered your wrist in a car accident and had to hang up the racket and pleated skirts forever. Just like her.

Now, Tashi Duncan and Art Donaldson are California royalty. An unfairly beautiful couple living what seems to be the dream. You'd never kept up much with Art's career like you did Tashi's, but you follow them both on Instagram and you see his face on billboards all over the city almost daily so you can assume it was fruitful. It may help him that he's extremely easy on the eyes, or "super fucking hot!" in your coworkers words.

"Hello?" Her voice ringing out from the tiny speaker ripped you out of your thoughts and back into reality.

"Y-yes, sorry," you cringe internally at yourself, stuttering over your words like a loser. You force yourself to sound professional when you speak again, "We'd love to help you any way we can. Do you have a certain time and date in mind already?"

"We're not home right now, we were thinking next Thursday. Around four." There's no question mark on the end of her sentence, you know that she isn't asking you, she's telling you. You don't even bother to check the schedule before you're answering.

"We will be free that day. I'll go ahead and put you in our system." you rush over to the front desk computer and open the calendar, thankfully you are actually free for Thursday. "I'm assuming you know our location?" you ask as you type in the appointment details, ignoring how your fingers shake ever so slightly as you type Tashi into the slot.

"Actually," Tashi's voice has a different tone to it when she speaks again, it’s something you can’t quite place, your fingers slow down slightly as you listen, "we wanted to make this a home visit."

You stop typing completely, brows furrowed in confusion as you stare at your computer screen. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Donaldson but we don't do at home appointments…per our policy." you reply meekly, almost surprised that you're denying her.

"Duncan, actually,” she corrects you nonchalantly, you don’t have time to unpack that before she’s speaking again. “We did read that on your website, but we'd hope you might make an exception. You wouldn't need to bring much. We have our own table." Her tone isn't harsh or impolite, just firm and certain, like she knows you'll give in to her.

You do.

"Well," you bite your lip as you wrestle internally with yourself, torn between what you want to do and what you should do. "Okay, we can do that for you."

"Great. I'll send you the address. See you then." She hangs up without saying goodbye.

You plant your phone next to you and stare at the filled out appointment slot taking up your computer screen, processing what just happened. You're going to Tashi Duncan's house. To give her hot pro-tennis player husband a massage. In their house.

"What the fuck."

SIX DAYS LATER...

The walk up to The Donaldson's huge mansion on a mountain has your stomach turning in on itself. All week you were a ball of nervous energy just floating around your office, trying to find anything to distract you from your upcoming appointment. Now that it's here, you feel you may have bitten off more than you could chew.

You hardly got any sleep last night, tossing and turning in your bed for hours before you gave up, barging into your building's gym to try and sweat your nerves out. When that didn't work you just retreated back to your apartment and got ready.

You try not to think about why it took you so long to get ready, longer than most work mornings. Taking more time in the shower, more time doing your hair, more time doing your makeup.

You even choose an outfit you'd hardly ever wear in front of regular clientele. A matching white polo set, a skirt in place of shorts. You tell yourself that you just want to look good, who wants to look like a mess in front of Tashi Duncan?

Your hands white-knuckle the steering wheel of your car on the drive over. You couldn’t even play any music, the noise in your head already too loud as it was, only cranking up the AC and silently following the crisp voice of your GPS reading off the directions Tashi sent you.

The closer you get to the door the more you want to turn and run down the insanely long driveway, get back in your car and haul ass home without ever looking back.

You don't because you're a professional, or at least that's what you keep telling yourself.

Your hand shakes as you ring their doorbell, hearing it echo back at you from the inside. You only wait a few seconds before the large door swings open and there she is.

Tashi Duncan is every bit as beautiful in person as she is splashed across the pages of magazines and blown up twenty feet on billboards. She looks so effortlessly classy in her Ralph Lauren sweater and flowy black dress pants.

Your name falls from her lips, and all the blood rushes to your ears. Her silky voice wraps around each syllable with an enticing heat that makes you weak in the knees. You feel sixteen years old all over again, standing at the woman who basically molded you into who you are today. It's a dizzying sensation, the rush of nostalgia and emotions flooding in like an avalanche. The memories you have locked away in your brain of the countless late night practices, the hundreds of hours spent on the court, the trophies and ribbons littering your moms basement collecting dust, the refusal to give up and pushing your body past its own limits because you wanted to be just like her. You wanted to be Tashi Duncan, and when you catch yourself nervously rubbing your thumb over the scar spanning your right wrist, you guess in some sick twisted way that you kind of are.

"So glad you could make it," she greets breezily, stepping to the side to let you in. “We were worried you’d get lost.”

The house is, of course, beautiful on the inside. Tall ceilings, big fireplace, a beautiful staircase leading to the second floor. There’s toys strewn messily along the living room floor, the TV mounted on the wall is paused on ESPN.

You hope you don’t look as crazy as you feel taking in the space, taking in the fact that Tashi is standing right in front of you. 

“No, the directions were very helpful,” your voice only slightly wavers as you respond, you count that as a win, “it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Donalds–uh–Duncan.” You cringe at your fumble, but try to power through by extending Tashi your hand.

She watches you for a second, sharp eyes flicking over your body quickly like she’s inspecting you. It makes your cheeks feel warm as you struggle to not squirm underneath her gaze. Finally, she takes your hand in hers and gives it a firm shake. You ignore the way her touch makes your palm burn.

“Art should already be in the massage room, it’s in the pool house,” Tashi says, gesturing to the huge windows in the living room showing off a lavish underground pool with a smaller building situated next to it, “I have to take a phone call here in a few minutes so I trust you’ll find your way there.”

You nod slowly, adjusting the strap of your supply bag on your shoulder. Tashi doesn't even pause walking further into the house as she speaks to you, heels clicking with each step as she makes her way to the large staircase in the middle of the room. There’s still no question marks tacked on to the end of her sentences, just like over the phone. 

“It’s just through that door, first room on the left. I told him to leave the door open for you.” She continues, reaching the stairs and making her way up slowly. She tosses her head over her shoulder to make eye contact with you again. “He’s been complaining about his shoulder acting up. The right one, it’s what needs the most attention. He serves with that arm, we need it at a hundred.” she fires off casually, like she’s recited this information before.

You go to speak but her phone ringing cuts you off, echoing off the house's crisp white walls. “Thank you for coming to see us, it was nice meeting you.” Tashi says politely, giving you one final once over before she’s answering her phone and disappearing up the stairs.

“It was nice meeting you too…” you trail off quietly, fully caught off guard by whatever the hell that was. Out of every single time you’d fantasized about what meeting Tashi Duncan would be like, none of them were quite like this. At least it’s over you figure, and you even managed to not make a complete fool of yourself.

You hold onto that tiny win as you walk through the living room doors and outside, making your way to the pool house like Tashi instructed. The entrance is unlocked as you step inside, thankfully you spot the cracked door a little ways in front of you. 

The sound of your footsteps are loud as you make your way down the short hallway, tennis shoes making small thump sounds against the concrete floor. You pause for just a second outside the cracked door, taking a deep breath before pushing it open and stepping inside. The room is empty, the only things inside are some shelves lined with various essential oils and lotions, and an expensive looking massage table in the center. You muse over the fact that their table looks a little better than the ones in your own spa, no wonder they wanted a home visit.

The room is well lit as you walk around, dim in a way that promotes relaxation. The soft, ambient lighting bathes the room in a gentle, golden glow, complemented by the flicker of aromatic candles placed strategically around the space. You wonder who lit them, Tashi? Or maybe Art? You let out a small laugh at the idea of Tashi Duncan and Art Donaldson fawning over the room before you showed up, setting up candles and mood lighting to make it feel nicer, less clinical.

You’re probably just reading too much into it. You always urge clients to ask for anything that will make them feel more comfortable, apparently Art just likes eucalyptus sage candles and mood lighting. It has nothing to do with you. 

Your name being said from somewhere behind you rips you out of your own mind. You whirl around, and find yourself face to face with six time Grand Slam Champion, Tashi Duncan’s super hot husband, Art Donaldson. And he’s only wearing a fucking towel.

“Hello,” he greets with a kind smile, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, “it’s nice to finally meet you, thank you so much for taking the time to come out here.” 

Art is already worlds different from Tashi, or that’s what you’re inferring after spending less than five minutes with each of them. It’s still extremely apparent, Tashi has an almost overpowering presence to her, everything about her commands respect and she knows that. She uses that to her advantage, she likes it like that.

The man standing in front of you is nothing like that. The Art Donaldson in front of you doesn’t seem like some big shot tennis player with more impressive stats than you could wrap your head around. You’ve come to know that a few pro-sports guys like to swing their dicks around, bragging about their booming careers non-stop during a session. Yet everything about Art is unassuming as he stands in the doorway like he’s trying to make himself look smaller. 

“Hi, Mr. Donaldson,” you’re not sure if it's appropriate to offer a man wearing a towel dangerously low on his hips your hand, you decide against it. “It’s no trouble really, I’m happy to help.”

“Please, call me Art.” The tone of his voice makes you want to shiver, smooth and warm like honey. 

You try your best not to stare, but it’s so hard to ignore the toned expanse of Art’s body when it’s right there. He’s all broad shoulders, firm pecs, sculpted legs, with a cut Adonis belt. He’s like a marble statue, made in Michelangelo's perfect image.

Your eyes trail back up his body, lingering on his chest before rising up to his face. You’re mortified to see he’s staring right back at you, effectively catching you in the act. Your cheeks burn as you tear your gaze away, looking at anything and everything other than him. In your panic, you don’t notice the way his eyes rake over you in the same way.

“Okay, Art,” you say a little breathlessly, tightening your grip on the strap of your bag. “It’s nice to meet you. Mrs. Duncan let me know about your major problem areas, I’ll be sure to focus on them.” Involuntarily bringing up Tashi has your stomach clenching up in guilt, you just got done ogling her husband's body. You hope he takes the silent cue you're giving him to get on the damn table so you can start the massage and get the hell out of here.

Art nods silently, walking over to the table and moving to lie down on his stomach. You busy yourself with prepping your oils, taking them out of your bag and setting them on a small side table next to the massage bed uncapped for easy access. You can’t help but sneak glances at the rippling muscle of Art’s back as he shifts, his skin looks soft and is littered with freckles. You don’t miss the hiss he lets out when he lays his weight on his shoulder.

You usually don’t speak much during appointments, only engaging in conversation when your client initiates it, but you feel the need to fill the silence between you and Art. The quiet atmosphere makes everything seem far too intimate, and sure on some level it always is, but this feels different.

“How’d you hurt it? Your shoulder. If you don’t mind me asking.” you ask once he’s settled, placing your fingertips to the middle of his right shoulder, feeling around for any tension. Art tenses slightly at your touch, taking a sharp breath. You guess you should have warned him, you open your mouth to apologize but he lets out a small breath and relaxes onto the table again.

Art sighs, his voice tinged with weariness. "It was, uh, during a match. I overextended trying to return a serve. Haven't been able to move it properly since."

You nod, hands starting to move in slow, deliberate circles across the muscle. “That sounds about right. Most people don’t realize how brutal tennis is to the body, injuries are common,” you pointedly try to ignore the flashbacks of your wrist failing to swing a racket properly after you healed from your accident, flashbacks of watching as the bone pierced through your skin. “Sounds like you might need to take it easy for a while.” you continue, trying to keep the conversation light.

Art chuckled, though it was devoid of real humor. "Yeah, I’ve been playing a lot lately. Guess I pushed myself too hard." He winces slightly as you work on a particularly tight knot, shoulder tensing under your hands. 

You pause, your hands stilling momentarily as you catch the underlying tension in Art's voice. "The season’s almost over, maybe it's time to give yourself a break, take some time to rest and recuperate." you remark softly, your tone gentle yet concerned.

Art's gaze flickers to yours, a flicker of vulnerability shining through. "I wish I could," he admits, his voice heavy, "But it's hard to step away, especially when it feels like it's all I have that’s still keeping everything together."

Your heart clenches at the raw honesty in his words. He’s completely silent afterwards, you wonder if he’s regretting telling you something like that, like maybe it just fell out of his mouth before he could stop it. Without a word, you continue to knead away the tension in his muscles, offering a silent gesture of support.

As you continue to work, hands skillfully moving over Art’s shoulder, you can’t help but notice the weariness in Art's demeanor. His presence feels heavy, almost broken, as if the physical pain was just a small part of what he was carrying. You feel a pang of sympathy for him. You can feel the weight of struggles pressing down on him, the way his shoulders sag slightly even under your careful touch.

“I can feel the tension here," you say gently, applying a little more pressure,  "Just try to relax.” 

With each knead and press, you remind yourself of your role. You’re here to help him heal, and that was all that mattered. But as your hands move over his warm skin, you can’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t what you had anticipated, something that made your heart race with both excitement and anxiety. You were so worried about meeting Tashi you completely forgot about Art. It’s a different story now as your hands explore the smooth planes of his back to the steady sound of his breathing.

"You're really good at this," Art says after a while, his voice a bit lighter. 

You smile, a genuine one, the first real smile you’ve had since you got here. “Thanks. I’d hope so after all this time.”

Art lets out a small chuckle muffled by the table, it makes your stomach flutter. “How did you get into this? Massage therapy seems interesting.”

You laugh but it’s a bitter sound, moving your hands down to focus lower on Art’s shoulder. You try not to think about your tennis career, even after all this time you struggle with the memories despite all the good it brought you. “That’s a long story.” you mutter under your breath, even to your own ears you sound resentful.

“I’ve got time.” It’s a simple reply, but it’s so honest. Like Art’s genuinely interested in you, in getting to know you. It makes you feel dizzy.

“I, um,” you worry your lip between your teeth, working your hands harder over Art’s back. “I actually used to play tennis. When I was in high school.”

Art makes an interested noise, shifting under your hands as he moves his head to lay on the side of the table so he could look up at you. “No shit?” he looks more shocked than anything. 

You nod, humming in confirmation as you finally move onto his other shoulder. “Yup, I was pretty serious about it back then, until I got injured.” You don’t meet Art’s gaze, but you can see how his face falls in your peripheral vision. You kind of want to laugh at how ironic this moment is, you wonder if Art’s thinking about Tashi’s knee. You know he was at the match, you’ve seen the blurry footage of Tashi Duncan’s fall from grace, watched Art vault over the net to get to her.

“That’s awful. I’m sorry.” He sounds like he means it.

“It’s okay, wasn't like it was my fault or anything,” you say, finally meeting his eyes with a rueful smile and raising your right wrist to show him your scar. “I got hit by a drunk driver coming home late from practice one night. Nasty fracture, bone went straight through.” You hope your voice is coming out as nonchalant as you’re trying to make it sound.

Art's eyes widen in disbelief as he takes in your scar, a mixture of shock and sympathy evident on his face. "Wow, that's...terrible," he murmurs, his voice tinged with compassion.

You shrug, the memories still vivid despite the passage of time. "It was tough, it was awful actually. All the physical therapy in the world couldn’t get a racket back in my hand,” you confess softly, fingers tracing the outline of the scar absentmindedly again. “But it also forced me to reevaluate things, in a way. It made me realize that life doesn't always go according to plan.” You see Tashi’s knee buckling in your mind's eye. “When I finally realized that I could take all the hate and all the anger I was feeling and channel it into something good, something like massage therapy, I never looked back."

You immediately regret over-sharing, feeling silly telling Art your sob story, but when you meet his eye again, he has an odd look on his face. His expression is soft as he looks up at you through long lashes, understanding and empathy swimming in the blue of his eyes.

"Well, silver linings, huh?" he says after a few seconds, there’s traces of a smile playing on his lips. You let out a small laugh, nodding your head slightly.

"Yeah," you agree, a small smile on your lips. "Silver linings." 

As the conversation fades into a comfortable silence, you and Art find yourselves locked in a silent exchange, your eyes meeting and holding a depth of something you can’t quite pick up on. In that moment, the world around you seems to blur, leaving only the two of you suspended in a shared moment of vulnerability. There's a subtle shift in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that has formed between you, as if you've uncovered a piece of each other.

The shrill ringing of your phone’s alarm pierces through the moment, both you and Art jump at the sudden sound. It’s like a cold bucket of water pouring over your head, washing away whatever just happened between the two of you. The session’s over, you’re done. 

“Okay,” you say a little too loudly, taking your hands off Art's back like his skin could burn you any second. “Looks like we’re all done.” You try to smile but it feels fake, forced, so you turn your back to Art and start capping your oils to shove them back in your bag.

Art’s voice breaks the silence as you pack up, sounding a little less confident than it did earlier. “Uh, my neck has been bothering me too, recently,” he says offhandedly as he sits up, swinging his legs over the edge of the table. “I think I may have slept on it wrong.”

You stop what you’re doing, turning to face Art again, silently cursing him for not just letting you leave. “Do you want me to take a look before I go?” You pray he says no. You should know it won’t be that easy, not with your shit luck.

“If you don’t mind?” His tone is so hopeful and his eyes are so big that your feet are walking towards him before your mind can catch up. 

“Not at all,” you reply, your voice steady despite the tightness in your chest. You step closer, practically between his slightly spread legs, feeling the warmth of his skin even before you touch him. Your fingers brush against his neck, and he shivers slightly, the muscles tight and knotted beneath your touch.

"Just relax," you murmur, trying to maintain any shred of professional demeanor. As you work, you can't help but notice the way his breath hitches, the tension in his body melting away under your skilled hands. The room feels smaller, the air heavier with each passing second.

He closes his eyes, a soft sigh escaping his lips. "That feels amazing," he whispers, and you swallow hard, trying to focus solely on the task at hand. As you work, the intimacy of the moment isn't lost on you, and you can't help but wonder if he feels it too.

Minutes tick by like hours as you work the tense muscle of Art’s neck. You're acutely aware of every sigh, every shift in his body, every subtle reaction to your touch. You finally pull away when you think it’s been enough time, eager to get out of this damn house before you do something you’ll regret.

You didn’t notice how close you really were to Art until you pulled back only to be met with his face mere inches away from yours. Startled by the sudden proximity, you freeze, caught off guard by the intensity of Art's gaze. His eyes, dark and searching, seem to hold a silent question, a silent invitation.

Now, Art’s body is one thing, it’s objectively perfect. He’s a professional athlete, of course it’s perfect. It has to be perfect. It’s his damn face that gets you.

He’s beautiful, beyond beautiful. He looks like he should be splayed across canvas hanging in the Louvre. The dim lighting in the room illuminates his face beautifully, his golden hair haloing around his head makes him look ethereal. Each of his features look as if they were handcrafted by a master sculptor, each contour and line a testament to perfection. His chiseled jawline speaks of strength and determination, while his lips, soft and inviting, seem to beckon you closer with every breath. His eyes are deep pools of ocean blue, though this close you can see a small splash of brown in his left eye you didn’t notice before, swirling with emotions that stir something deep within you. 

Something more shocking than Art’s beauty, is how fucking tired he looks. Lines of exhaustion are etched along his face, subtle but undeniable. The weariness in his eyes speaks volumes, a silent plea for respite from the relentless demands of tennis. And yet, even amidst the exhaustion, there's a flicker of longing. He’s staring at you like he needs you, eyes wide and yearning. His chest rising and failing a little more harshly than it did before, each exhale coming out ragged and sharp.

“Art…” you whisper, heart threatening to beat out of your chest. He’s so warm, the heat emitting off of him makes you want to lean into it. You want to crawl on top of his powerful thighs and bury your face in his chest and never leave. Your hands flex where they’re draped over Art’s neck.

It happens in slow motion, Art’s hand trails up the skin of your thigh as your name falls from his lips like a prayer, and it’s like you’ve been electrocuted. You’re rearing back with a sharp breath, dropping your hands from his neck and taking a couple steps back. 

“It was really nice to- uh to meet you, Art.” you say frantically, swinging your bag firmly over your shoulder and rushing to the door. Art’s still sitting on the table, silently watching you panic. He doesn’t try to stop you. “I hope your shoulder feels better,” is all you say before bursting out the door and speed walking out of the pool house. 

Your heart's racing as you walk through the backyard, hands shaking even through the death grip you have on the strap of your bag. What the hell was that? What the hell was that? Did Art Donaldson just make a pass at you? You must be imagining things. 

The thought rattles around in your mind, refusing to be dismissed. His words, his tone—they seemed to linger in the air, haunting you with their implications. The way he touched you, like he couldn’t help himself. But no, it couldn't be. He was married to Tashi, and besides, he was just being polite, right? You try to convince yourself of that as you make your way back to the house.

As you walk inside, still slightly shaken up, Tashi’s the first thing you see. She’s sitting in the living room, laptop open on the coffee table in front of her. 

“Hey,” she says, sitting up straighter on the coach, “how was it?”

You swallow, urging yourself to calm down. “It was great, he should be seeing some improvement over the next few days.”

Tashi nods her head, seemingly pleased though it doesn’t show on her face. “Could this be a weekly thing, these appointments. He could really use them.” 

No question marks. Motherfucker.

You flounder, stomach dropping. “Weekly? As in every Thursday?”

Tashi’s brow raises, eyes looking over you inquisitively. “Yes, preferably all home visits.”She stands from the couch, taking a couple steps towards you. “We read on your website you take permanent clients, is that not the case anymore.”

You shake your head, eyes wide as they follow her while she walks. “N-no, Mrs. Duncan we do. We could pencil you in if you’re willing to pay monthly for the time slot. Would you like to talk to some of my other employees to work out a rotating schedule?”

Tashi stops a few feet away from you, hands in her pockets. “Actually, we were hoping you’d be the one coming down. The only one.” You blink, her words slam over you like a ton of bricks. Just you, in a room with a half-naked Art. Every single Thursday. That can’t happen, not after what just went down between the two of you.

You can practically hear the warning bells blaring in your mind, urging you to refuse, to put an end to this before it spirals out of control. Yet, there's another voice, quieter but no less insistent, whispering seductive promises of what could be if you were to stay.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you grapple with the conflicting desires warring within you. Tashi's expectant gaze weighs heavily on you, waiting for your response, and you know that whatever decision you make will irrevocably alter the course of things between you and Art. With a shaky breath, you steel yourself, the weight of your choice settling like a stone in your stomach.

"I...I'll do it," you finally say, the words leaving your lips before you can stop them. "I'll make sure to pencil you in for weekly sessions, Mrs. Duncan."

Tashi's lips curve up slightly, satisfied, but beneath the surface you can sense the tension thrumming through the air. You've made your choice, for better or for worse, and now you can only hope that it won't lead to the downfall of everything you've worked so hard to build.

“Wonderful,” she says, gesturing for you to follow her to the front door. You trail behind her like a loyal pet, silently allowing her to drag you wherever she pleases. “Thank you again for coming out, and please,” she pauses with her hand on the doorknob, turning to meet your eye, “call me Tashi.”

"Thank you, Tashi," you murmur softly, the weight of her name feeling foreign on your tongue when you’re actually saying it to her for the first time. "I'll make sure to arrange everything at the office."

Tashi's smile widens, though there's a glint of something unreadable in her eyes. "I look forward to seeing you, then," she says, her tone laced with a hint of anticipation. "And please, if there's anything you need, don't hesitate to reach out."

With a final nod, Tashi opens the front door, the outside world beckoning beyond its threshold. You take a hesitant step forward, the weight of your decision pressing down on your shoulders like a heavy burden. As you step out into the cool evening air, you can't shake the feeling that you've just crossed a line from which there may be no turning back. But for now, all you can do is steel your nerves and hope that you haven't made a huge mistake.

A LITTLE MORE THAN SIX DAYS LATER…

Your sessions with Art continue on. The guilt settling deep in your stomach each time you set foot in the Donaldson/Duncan house also continues. It worsens each time the two of you are alone in that damned massage room. Technically you’ve done nothing wrong, but you know deep in the back of your mind that what you’re doing isn’t normal. Each meeting is a strange mixture of tension and familiarity. When you arrive, Tashi always greets you warmly, her trust in you unwavering. It feels like a dagger each time, twisting deeper and deeper into your conscience. 

Neither of you talk about it, what happened during your session, and Art doesn’t treat you any differently. He still goes out of his way to make polite conversation, asking you about your life, about your business, he even brings up old anecdotes you told him offhandedly. He doesn’t talk about tennis, and he has to know you can keep up in conversation with it since you told him about your history with it, you just assume he doesn’t want to. 

That makes sense, you always think back to the first time he met you. How he brushed off any conversation about his career, how his demeanor changed when he spoke about it. How drained he looked. There was a sadness in his eyes, a weight he carried that seemed to go beyond just a few standard aches and pains. You remember how it struck you then, and it strikes you still, each time you see him.

His shoulder is getting better, you can tell. He can lay on it, or raise it above his head, without wincing. That makes your heart swell, knowing that despite how weird and kind of fucked up everything is, he’s healing. 

The familiar sound of your timer ringing pulls you out of your thoughts. You’re shocked at how fast this appointment flew by, but you could tell as soon as you walked into the massage room to find Art already sitting on the table waiting for you, that something about this session feels different. It’s silly to call it “sensing a bad vibe”, but that’s exactly what you felt entering the room's threshold. 

Art didn’t speak much as you worked, just laying on the table silently after saying hello and asking you about your week. The silence is definitely odd, Art’s not a chatterbox by any means, but he usually keeps some form of conversation flowing. After a while, you start to think it might be something you did, like maybe he’s mad at you. It sounds so stupid in your head, like you’re some poor high school girl getting hung up over a fucking guy giving you the silent treatment.

The only thing more stupid than that is how much it’s actually affecting you. Art has you over analyzing everything you’ve said or done over the last couple visits, you dread that maybe he just came to his senses after all this time. That he finally snapped out of whatever trance he was in and remembered he has a beautiful wife, and that he doesn’t really want you.

“Alright,” you say softly, stepping away from the table, “All done.” As you turn off the timer and gather your thoughts, you can't shake the feeling that something is off. You force yourself to bury it, Art doesn’t owe you an explanation, he doesn’t owe you anything. You aren’t his.

You glance over at him as he slowly sits up, his expression unreadable. "Thank you," he murmurs, his voice barely audible. You offer a small smile in return, trying to squash all the ugly feelings mixing in your stomach. You turn to busy yourself with packing up, feeling a weird sense of déjà vu.

Art’s voice cuts through the silence, sounding weary. “Are we still pretending it didn’t happen?”

It catches you off guard, making you drop the bottle in your hands back onto the table loudly. Your heart races as you turn back to face him, unsure of how to respond. The weight of his words hangs heavy in the air, demanding a response you’re not sure you’re ready to give.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. “I...I don’t know,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I guess I was hoping we could just…forget about it.”

Art’s eyes search yours, filled with a mixture of longing and uncertainty. “I don’t think I can,” he confesses, his voice tinged with sadness.

The same feelings from that day rush back in your mind, flooding all your senses. It's as if time folds in on itself, bringing you right back to that moment where everything changed. You feel panic clawing its way up your body, fight or flight response waging a war inside of you.

You chose flight, shoving the last bottle in your bag and making a break for the door. Ready to run just like you did back then, run and come back next week with your tail between your legs desperately trying to forget that this ever happened, again. Art’s voice stops you just as you have your hand on the doorknob.

“Please…” he whispers, he sounds so broken, so vulnerable. “Please, don’t run.”

You don’t know what it is, maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you, or the repressed feelings, or your shitty back bone, but whatever it is makes you pause, hand falling off the doorknob to lay limp at your side. You turn back to face him, the raw need in his eyes mirrored by your own emotions. It tugs at your heart, making it impossible to leave. You feel a surge of guilt and hesitation, but the longing in his gaze holds you captive. Slowly, you make your way towards him, taking small slow steps like you could still leave at any minute, but you know you won’t.

You walk until you’re crowding him, standing between his spread legs just like you did all those sessions ago. His eyes are wide, almost disbelieving, like he thought you’d turn around and slam the door on him instead. Which is what you should do, you should walk out that door right now and never step foot in their house again. 

Art whispers your name, his voice a soft caress that sends sparks zapping down your spine. You're close enough to feel his breath fanning over your face, warm and intimate. You inhale, like you’re trying to absorb his words, his essence, his everything. 

His hand takes yours, bringing it up to his chest. He presses it firmly against his pec, right on top of his heart. You can feel the rapid, uneven thumping beneath your palm. His thumb caresses your wrist gently, making goosebumps pebble over your skin.

It’s easy to get lost in Art’s eyes, so you’re shocked to notice something that very quickly grabs your attention. Art’s towel is tented obscenely, hard cock straining against the thick material. You swallow roughly at the sight, feeling the need to touch, to take, to help.

Your knees hit the floor before you fully realize the entire gravity of what you’re doing. You don’t care about any of that anyway, not right now. 

Right now Art Donaldson is swiping his thumb across the scar on your wrist with his big sparkly eyes desperately looking into yours, unashamedly begging for you to touch him. 

Who are you to deny him?

Your hands find the knot of his towel and yank it roughly, ripping it off Art's hips and tossing it aside. His hard cock springs out, slapping up against his stomach enticingly. Your mouth waters at the sight of him, pleased to see he’s perfect all over. 

Art’s cock is long, and thick. He’s big, but in an exciting way, not in an intimidating way. He’s already steadily drooling pre-cum from his soft pink tip, already so hard and you haven’t even touched him yet. You reach up, tracing your finger along the length of him lightly. Art inhales, his eyes fluttering closed as you touch him for the first time. The anticipation in the room is palpable, a heady mix of desire and need that seems to swirl around you both.

You circle your hand around the base of his cock, stroking up and up until your hand bumps into the head, where you start to rub your thumb back and forth gently, spreading the wetness from his pre-cum before sliding your hand back down. Slowly, you lean in, placing a soft kiss on the tip of his cock before taking him into your mouth, savoring the taste of him as he groans deeply, hands gripping the massage table tightly.

“Shit,” he grits out, casting his gaze to the ceiling, chest already heaving raggedly. 

You slide the warmth of your mouth down the shaft of his cock, moaning at the heady taste of him, skin soft and velvety on your tongue. 

“Fuck, your mouth…” Art whispers above you, his words trailing off into a string of breathy moans. You hum in response, working his cock faster to draw out more of those noises. Hollowing your cheeks, you sink down towards the circle of your fist still holding the base of his cock with wet, slippery slurping sounds. Art’s hand lets go of the table, coming up to cup your cheek in a move way too intimate for what the two of you are doing.

You chance a look up, and your heart skips several beats at what you see. Art’s already staring down at you, his face twisted up in pleasure. His pale cheeks are flushed, brows drawn together tightly, plush bottom lip caught between his teeth. All that is enough to make you feel ten feet tall, but that’s not what makes you pause.

It’s his eyes, the way Art’s looking at you.

The look in his eyes is…worshipful. Reverent. Like you’re a celestial being, a divine grace walking among mortals. Not some girl on her knees for a married man in his house’s private fucking massage room.

Yet the longer you hold his gaze, while still working your mouth over his hard cock, you feel something strange stirring inside you. Art’s eyes holding such a longing reverence so intense, it was starting to elevate you to a pedestal of adoration. Of devotion.

Right now Art’s like the sun, burning so brightly you feel you need to look away before he consumes you, but you don’t.

“Please,” Art begs desperately, voice so soft you barely even hear it. There’s tears welling in his eyes, his red rimmed and so so tired looking eyes. It breaks your heart, how could such a wonderful man be reduced to this?

You pull off Art’s cock, hand still pumping firmly over him. He whines at the loss of your mouth, hips bucking up to chase after the warm heat. His tip bumps over your lips as he moves, trailing a thin line of pre-cum across them.

Without breaking eye contact, you speak.

“You’re so good, Art.” 

It’s those four words whispered against the tip of Art's leaking cock that has him coming with a hitched breath and a soft cry. A few bursts of his warm come land over your parted lips before you take the head of his cock back in your mouth to greedily swallow down the rest. 

"Thank you, fuck, thank you...!" Art grates out as his body trembles above you, hand squeezing yours so hard it borders on painful. You know you’re never coming back from this, but you still  squeeze back as hard as you can all the same.

A LITTLE MORE THAN SIX DAYS LATER…

Maybe this is just your life now, fucking the husband of the woman you worshiped like a God for years on end. It’s like you can’t stop, like you’re an addict or something. No matter how disgusting and shameful you feel every time you get home from Art’s appointments, you can’t help but give into him. It’s a twisted dance, a cycle of pleasure and regret that you can’t seem to break. One look into his sad, kicked puppy eyes and you crack. You’ve convinced yourself it's just you reveling in the feeling of being truly wanted for the first time. But deep down, you know it’s more than that. It’s the way he makes you feel alive, the way he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters in his world.

Art wants you. He needs you. He’s made that more than clear every single visit since you dropped down on your knees for him. The guilt gnaws at you, a constant reminder that you can't escape. Yet, every time you see him, every time he reaches out to you with that desperate need in his eyes, you find yourself powerless to resist. 

You’ve never kissed, not on the lips. Art’s certainly tried, lips seeking yours out as your oiled up fist slips up and down his cock, as you sit on his lap and grind against him until he’s dirtying his towel. You just turn your head every time, letting him trail kisses along your jaw and neck instead somehow feels less real. Kissing Art will make it feel real, you know it will. So you don’t.

Funnily enough, you think things are going well. Maybe even as well as getting a married man off every Thursday can go. You can see a change in Art, in his behavior and the way he holds himself. He smiles more, he laughs more, it’s like he’s giving more of himself to you each time you meet with him. It’s exhilarating, the way your presence has this effect on him, almost as if you’re breathing new life into him.

Art’s newfound lightness is infectious. You find yourself looking forward to Thursdays with an anticipation that borders on impatience. The way he looks at you, the tender touches that linger just a bit longer, the conversations that flow more freely–it all feels like a dream you’re afraid to wake up from. 

You should have known it was too good to be true, that this little world you created in your head was just the calm before the storm.

Everything about this session was normal to start. It’s a little less intense since Art’s shoulder is doing better, now you have free reign over the rest of his body. Greedy hands free to glide over the planes and planes of muscle you’ve become familiar with.

As you work on his lower back, your hands moving in practiced, soothing motions, you notice a subtle rigidity in his muscles. “Everything alright?” you ask, keeping your tone light.

Art hesitates before answering. “Yeah, just…a lot on my mind.”

You frown, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Art stays quiet, still laying silently on the table face down. You stare at the back of his head, like if you stare hard enough you’ll be able to tell what he’s thinking. Taking his silence as not wanting to talk, you continue on. You don’t want to pressure him to confide with you, not when he already has a wife for that.

As your hands continue to move over Art's tense shoulders, he lets out a deep sigh, breaking the silence. "I need you,”  he whispers softly, his voice filled with an unexpected vulnerability. He shifts on the table, leaning up to look you in the eye; his own eyes are watery, lashes clumped together with unshed tears. “It's not just the massages. I need you in my life, no more of this half-assed bullshit. I need all of you.”

You feel your whole world turn upside down in a single second, the distinct feeling of your heart lurching out of your chest and your stomach dropping to your feet. It’s like the walls of the room start moving in on you, caging you in. It makes your chest feel tight, breath coming out in short jagged rasps. Panic grips you, and you violently rip your hands off Art’s body, stumbling back from the massage table.

 "I-I'm sorry, I can't," you stammer, voice choked with emotion, as you turn to flee from the room, not even bothering to grab your stuff. But before you could escape, Art was right behind you, reaching out to catch your wrist, his grip gentle yet firm. "Please don't go, please," he begs, his eyes pleading with you to stay and talk. You wrench your hand free and run out of the room. 

You think you hear Art calling out your name through all the static rushing through your ears, but you’re not sure, and you don’t look back to check. Your feet pound against the tile as you run out of the pool house feeling like you’re about to throw up, or pass out. Art’s confession is the only thing running through your mind. The only thing that’s still clear through your dizzying panic.

You finally start to breathe again when you burst into the house, leaning back against the cool glass of the door to try and relax before you start to spiral. The silence inside is almost oppressive, the only sound the rapid thudding of your heart in your ears. You close your eyes, willing yourself to calm down, to find some semblance of control.

Your name being said grabs your attention, and you open your eyes to find Tashi at the top of the stairs.

“Is everything okay? I heard the door slam.” Her expression is a mix of concern and confusion as she takes a few steps down. You push yourself off the door, you need to leave as soon as possible, before Tashi can reach you and coerce you into staying. 

“Everything's fine!” Your voice sounds shaky despite your best efforts to calm yourself, you’re basically speed walking to the door. “I just, I got a phone call, and I need to leave. Right now. I’m so sorry.”

You don’t even wait for her to reply before you’re yanking the door open and rushing outside. You hope to God that she doesn’t follow you outside. She doesn’t.

You walk, arms wrapped around yourself tightly in a feeble attempt to stop shaking. There are tears burning your eyes and making everything in front of you blurry. The wind whips your hair around your face, stinging your cheeks as you walk further away from the house.

Each step feels heavier, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you try to make sense of the storm inside you. The chaotic weather seems to mock your turmoil, perfectly matching the chaos you feel. You struggle to piece together what just happened, the intensity of Art’s words echoing in your mind.

“I need you.”

His voice had been so raw, so vulnerable, and it scared you. You weren’t ready for that kind of emotion, that kind of responsibility, that kind of guilt. The weight of it had sent you running, and now you’re left grappling with the aftermath.

Fuck.

A LITTLE MORE THAN SIX HOURS LATER…

The drive home was a blur. Rain and wind beating against the windshield nearly the whole time. You’d laugh at how ironic it was, like God’s punishing you with shitty weather, but you’re too busy fighting tears to find the humor in it. 

The dread didn’t set in until you got home, stumbling through the front door on shaky legs until you reached your kitchen where you promptly emptied everything in your stomach into your trash. After you force yourself into the shower to wash the rain, and guilt, off of your skin. You scrub yourself raw, skin pink and sensitive to the touch, like that will somehow erase all that you’ve done.

When you finally step out, the bathroom mirror is fogged, a ghostly reflection staring back at you through the mist. You avoid its gaze, wrapping yourself in a towel and padding through your room to collapse onto your bed. The silence of the house presses in on you, letting your thoughts consume you. 

Art’s words play on a loop inside your head, the look on his face burned to the forefront of your mind. The weight of his confession hung heavy in the air, rocking you with its intensity. Running away had seemed like the only option at the time, a knee-jerk reaction to the overwhelming flood of emotions threatening to engulf you. 

You know you didn’t run from Art because you don’t want him, you ran because there’s nothing you want more. In the aftermath, running felt less like a choice and more like an instinctual response to the storm of emotions threatening to consume you whole since the first day you met him. Every step away from Art was a battle against the gravitational pull of your desires, a struggle against the overwhelming urge to surrender to what you both shared.

The truth is crystal clear: you didn't run from Art because you're devoid of feelings for him. You ran precisely because your heart beats in synchrony with his, because the depth of your longing for him is as boundless as the universe itself. 

Your phone pings from the dresser, you ignore it. A second later, it pings again, and again, and again. You furrow your brows, glaring at your nightstand until you reach over and pick up your phone. It’s an unknown number, but you know who it is.

UNKNOWN NUMBER I need to see you.  Please, I can send a car. It's Art. Tashi isn’t home tonight.

Maybe you’re the worst person in the world, but all the fight leaves your body the second you read Art’s texts. You need to see him as much as he needs to see you. Your fingers type out a response before you can think twice.

Art okay.

You send him your address, jumping out of bed to throw on the first things you see. A black SUV was waiting for you as soon as you got downstairs, just as promised. You climbed in after getting confirmation from the driver, and sat in the backseat quietly as you went down the familiar streets. 

As the house comes into view, you can see the front door’s light is still on, waiting for you. You barely wait for the car to stop before you’re opening the car door and stepping outside. The rain immediately drenches you, seeping through your thin sleep clothes. You take two steps before the front door swings open and Art comes rushing out into the rain. He’s only wearing sleep pants, his bare feet smack wetly on the concrete as he runs to you.

Art stops short of you, hesitating, like he doesn’t know whether to touch you or not. You want him to touch you so bad you’re scared it might kill you. The air between you feels charged, every drop of rain a tiny spark. Finally, Art reaches out, his hand trembling as he brushes a soaked strand of hair from your face. The warmth of his touch sends a shiver down your spine, and you step closer, collapsing into his arms. The rain continues to fall around you, but at this moment, it’s just the two of you.

"Art," you breathe, your voice trembling. "What are we doing?"

He gazes into your eyes, the raw emotion in his expression mirroring your own. "I don't know," he admits, his hands gently sliding down to your shoulders. "But I can't let you go. Not now." His words hang between you, a fragile thread of honesty that binds you together. You can feel the weight of his words, the sincerity in his voice, and it tugs at your heartstrings.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as his words sink in. The honesty in his gaze, the desperation in his touch—it all overwhelms you, leaving you breathless. The only thing you can think of, the only thing that feels right, is kissing him. So you do.

You lean closer, your heart pounding in your chest, and gently cup his face in your hands. His eyes widen for a moment, a flicker of surprise mingling with the intensity of his emotions. Then, as if drawn together by an invisible force, your lips meet his.

The kiss is soft at first, tentative and sweet, a question and an answer all at once. His lips are cold and slightly trembling, matching the fluttering in your chest. You can taste the salt of your tears mingling with the sweetness of the moment. Time seems to stand still as you lose yourself in the sensation of his mouth on yours. 

Gradually, the kiss deepens, becoming more urgent and fervent, a silent expression of everything words can’t convey. Art’s arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, his fingers threading through your hair. The heat between you intensifies, both your breath coming faster, mingling as the kiss grows hungrier.

Art’s heartbeat echoes against your chest, you can feel his grip on you getting tighter like he's scared of letting you go. Your hands slide down to his shoulders, your fingers digging into his muscles as you press closer, your bodies molding together. His tongue flicks against your lips, seeking entrance, and you part them eagerly, welcoming him in. The taste of him is intoxicating, a mix of desperation and passion that makes your head spin. A soft moan escapes your lips, and he responds with a low growl, his hands roaming down your back, pulling you impossibly closer. 

“Art,” you say in between kisses, panting into his slick, open mouth. “I need you to fuck me.”

You can feel Art’s whole body shiver, groaning unabashedly into your mouth like he’s dying for it. “I’ve been waiting weeks for you to finally admit that.”

The two of you tear through the house, all tangled limbs and bumbling steps, you trail water all over the floor. Somewhere in the chaos you drop your phone and keys on the large kitchen island. Art refuses to let go of you to walk properly, blindly leading the way so he can keep kissing you breathless.

Art only stops kissing you when you finally make it to his bedroom, pulling away to wrestle the now soaked sleep pants off his legs. You follow by example and peel your shirt off, skin damp and cold but you could care less, not when Art’s pants are pooling at his ankles and he’s throwing his boxers carelessly over his shoulder.

“God,” he breathes out, shaking his head like he can’t believe you're giving him this, “You’re so beautiful.”

The raw honesty in his tone has your cheeks burning, you cast your gaze to the floor instinctually, feeling too overwhelmed by his charged gaze raking over you. You can hear his feet softly padding against the floor, making his way closer. You watch his feet come to a complete stop in front of you, he takes a hold of your chin gently forcing you to look up at him. 

His eyes, intense and unwavering, lock onto yours. “You’re fucking perfect.”

With a gentle push, Art lowers you onto the bed, his weight a comforting presence above you. He tilts your head back and kisses you breathless, one big hand sliding lower and lower on your stomach till he’s got his hand down the front of your shorts, he groans when his hand makes contact with your bare skin. You’d almost forgotten you hadn’t worn any underwear. His hand so close to your aching center has your breath hitching as you kiss, hips bucking up towards his palm.

You reach for his cock, an angry shade red and leaking steadily, but he catches your wrist before you can touch. You meet his eyes confused, but he just shakes his head.

“It’s been about me the whole time, baby. Let me fix that,” he whispers.

You nod your head wordlessly. You wouldn’t dream of denying him, not right now. He smiles, pecking your lips again before he starts to kiss his way downwards. He explores your body with his mouth with such care it has you shaking under every brush his lips. He kisses all down your jaw and neck, taking extra time on your chest to map out the skin of your breasts with his tongue. He circles your right nipple with the tip of his tongue a few times over before he takes it in his mouth, rolling it between his teeth gently. It has your back arching into his mouth, hands scrambling for a purchase on the silk sheets. One long finger slides around your entrance and dips inside, shallow, then deeper, stretching you slowly, carefully, while his other hand rubs your clit with light, gentle touches. “Is this good?” Art asks quietly, voice tinged slightly with insecurity, like you’re not completely unraveling because of him.

“God yes! Yes – fuck! – Art,” you mewl loudly, hips grinding down roughly onto his finger, desperate to take in more of him. You can feel him smile against your skin, pulling off to blow cool air over your hard nipple and repeating it all over again on your left. His finger slides through the wetness collecting in your hole, spreading it to your throbbing clit. He finally sinks a single finger into the warm, tight, heat of your cunt.

Art pulls away from your chest to kiss his way down your stomach, sliding lower and lower on the huge king size mattress, he doesn’t stop the rhythm of his fingers as he peels your shorts down your legs, tossing them aside. A guttural groan leaves his lips at the sight of your slick cunt parting over his fingers, taking them so well. He pitches forward like he can’t help himself, like his lips are magnetically drawn to your cunt, and presses a small kiss to your clit. 

“Fuck!” You squeal and writhe as his finger fucks in and out of you, hands tangling in his messy hair, cheeks flushing at the sound of your leaking cunt squelching against his wrist with each thrust. Art's lips tighten over your clit, sucking for a brief second before he moves back to start laving his tongue over your cunt in careful, slightly clumsy, strokes. The sounds he's making, almost filthy slurping, accompanied by little moans now and then send small vibrations through you that shock your system, making you fist his hair even tighter. 

Art’s lewd noises fill the air, mixing with your own moans to fill the room. His eyes stay closed for the most part, fluttering open every couple seconds to watch you fall apart. Your thighs shake uncontrollably around his head when you make eye contact, threatening to clamp around his ears and keep him there.

A sob tears from your throat when he adds another finger, then he curls them inside you and pulls back and god, shit, shit, fuck, fuck me, god, Art, please fuck me.

“Fuck me Art please fuck me I need it so bad please-” you ramble nonsensically, pulling at Art’s hair desperately. You can feel the warmth starting to pool in your stomach, but you don’t want to come on his tongue, or on his fingers, you want to come with him inside you.

Art lets you drag him up, the bottom half of his face is slick and shiny, drenched in your wetness. He makes his way up your body quickly, hands gripping tightly to your hips, not hesitating to kiss you even as your juices decorate his lips. You kiss back desperately, tasting yourself on his tongue. The head of his cock bumping against your twitching, empty hole has you whining. 

“Fuck me, Art,” you breath hotly, hips canting up needily. “No condom, I’m on the pill. I want you to come inside me. Please, I need it.”

Slowly, he starts to sink in. Feeding you inch by inch torturously slow. He kisses you the whole time, greedily swallowing the moans flowing out of your mouth as he stretches your cunt on his thick cock. You grab at his shoulders like a lifeline, kissing back with everything you have.

“God, you’re so fucking tight,” he says through gritted teeth, hands gripping your hips hard enough that you know you’ll be bruised in the morning. “So fucking perfect for me, such a perfect pussy for my cock.”

“Move.” Is all you can manage to squeak out, nails digging into the meat of his shoulders.

Art starts to move, thrusts slow and gentle, like he’s easing you into it. You’re grateful for it, you’ve never taken anyone as big as him. Slowly, his thrusts speed up, cut hips smacking against the fat of your ass a little rougher than before. You revel in it, pushing your ass back greedily for more more more. From this angle, the thick head of his cock drags against your g-spot perfectly every time he plunges back into your dripping cunt.

“Shit! Right there, don’t stop,” you slur breathlessly, feeling the familiar warmth swirling through your stomach as he fucks you.

“I love you.” Art confesses against your lips, his breath hot and erratic. His sweaty forehead pressed to yours as he pounds in and out of you, the motion both relentless and tender. His eyes are wide open now, so blue and so big and so honest as they bore into yours so intensely it’s suffocating.

It’s soon, it’s way too soon. You’ve barely known each other for a couple months, but you can't deny the warmth spreading through your chest, mingling with the heat of the moment, making everything feel both overwhelming and perfect.

Now that you're here, with Art’s cock fitting so perfectly in the wet heat of your cunt, you can’t believe it took you this long. You love Art. You’ve been in love with Art since the first time he spoke to you. Since the first time he touched you like you were the solution to all his problems.

Art must take your stunned silence as rejection, head falling to rest on your shoulder dejectedly, but his hips don’t slow their rhythm. If anything he speeds up, hips thrusting against you desperately.

“Please, please say it back,” he begs, voice thick with emotion, “Say it back, I need to hear you say it. Please,”

You surge up, wrapping your arms around him as tightly as you can, ankles locking together across his back. Art couldn’t pull out of you if he wanted to, judging from the long whine he lets out, he doesn’t mind.

“I love you, Art” You whisper back, barely audible over the lewd slap of his hips stinging your ass. Art groans so loudly you can feel it reverberating off the sensitive skin of your neck.

Hips speeding up even faster, Art turns his head to catch your lips in a searing kiss. This kiss is different than any of the other ones you’ve shared tonight, full of so much emotion and unspoken words. You swear you feel your heart grow three sizes, almost full and threatening to break out of your chest.

“I’m gonna come, fuck, I’m gonna fucking come,” he breathes between kisses. You can only moan in response, right on the brink of your own orgasm. His hips start to lose their rhythm as he chases it, fucking into you faster and harder.

Art’s cock gives a final twitch inside you before his hips are stilling and he’s coming with a broken moan, unloading everything he has into you. You’re right behind him, vision whiting out as you come, thighs shaking where they’re draped around his hips. 

Art collapses onto you, both of you breathing heavily as you come down from the high of your orgasm’s. You lay like that for a while, heaving and sweaty wrapped up in each other's arms. You feel something slot into place, something that you’ve been missing.

Art’s soft voice pierces through the afterglow, “Will you hold me?”

“Yes,” you whisper back, circling your arms around his shoulders.

…

When you wake up hours later you’re beyond thirsty, dehydrated from all the crying, and maybe from the sex. Art’s head is laying across your bare chest, tousled hair tickling your jaw and arms snug around your waist. He looks so peaceful, eyes closed with his long lashes fanning over his cheeks. The sound of his steady breathing is almost enough to lull you right back to sleep. You smile softly, running your hands through his hair slowly. Savoring how at peace he looks, so different from the battered, broken man you met.

You slip out of his arms as carefully as possible, not wanting to wake him. Rolling out of bed to search half-assedly for your clothes in the darkness. You can’t find your shirt, only your underwear and shorts. You notice a red shirt strewn over the dresser next to the bed, illuminated by the moonlight pouring through the blinds. You pick it up without thinking, it's soft in your hands, the fabric thin and worn down. You toss it on before padding out of the bedroom.

You get a little lost in your thoughts as you make your way to the kitchen, Art loves you.

The thought has you biting back a giddy smile. Art loves you and you love him too. It sounds fucking crazy, but you know it’s true. Your life is so completely fucked, you don’t know if you care.

Art loves you.

Your smile doesn’t leave your lips as you turn the corner, arms wrapped around yourself tightly, the warmth of Art's affection lingering like a gentle caress.

“He smiles more.”

The soft voice ringing out from your left makes you stop in your tracks. You turn, and there in the kitchen illuminated by the soft glow of the ceiling light, like an angel, is Tashi Duncan. 

Tashi looks at you from her spot across the room with an impassive look on her face, she’s got your keys in one hand, fiddling with them boredly. When you don't reply she speaks again, "He's playing better, won the last three tournaments he was in." She says casually, setting her half full wine glass down on the island.

You don't need to ask her who "he" is.

You're silent for a few more beats as she stares at you expectantly, silently urging you to say something. You rack your brain for a response, caught like a deer in headlights under Tashi's gaze.

"What?" you softly mutter, words cutting through the air weakly.

Tashi sighs in exasperation, like you're a child who doesn't understand the simple question she's asking. She raises her wine glass back to her lips, draining the rest of it before setting it down once more and making her way over to you.

You know you should flee, make a break for the door before she reaches you. Running away from the woman whose husband you’re fucking - whose husband you just got done fucking, and who told you he loved you - while she pays you seems like the easiest thing to do in the moment, but you don't.

You find yourself glued to the spot as Tashi's commanding presence looms over you, until she's all you can see. Until her expensive smelling perfume is all you can breathe, until she's towering over you, miles of soft skin on display in a classy black nightie.

She stares down at you, her face completely unreadable. It feels like hours as her brown eyes burn into yours, your heart must be beating a thousand beats per second.

When Tashi finally moves, it’s her hand you see rising up in your peripheral vision. At first you think she's going to hit you, get you back for sleeping with her husband, for falling in love with her husband. You tense up, bracing for the slap, it would be the least of what you deserve, but it never comes.

Instead, Tashi's hand finds its way up to the side of your face, cupping your cheek gently. You can feel the chilled metal of her wedding band make contact with your warm skin.

You feel like you might pass out staring into the eyes of Tashi Duncan. Everything you ever wanted in high school flashing rapidly right before your eyes.

If Art Donaldson is the sun, Tashi is the moon. Her light draws you in and keeps you looking at her, and never wanting to look away.

Her thumb slides across your bottom lip, the same lip that’s kissed her husband. Ever so slightly, she pushes the tip of her thumb into your parted lips, far enough to touch your bottom teeth. Your breath catches in your throat, eyes widening in shock, your pulse is fluttering wildly. You distantly wonder if she can feel it on the inside of her wrist.

“I’m his coach, I need to be hard on him or he fails. I refuse to let him fail,” she says softly, tone casual like she’s not brushing the tip of your tongue with her fingers. “But I’m not stupid, I know what he needs. Someone sweet, someone gentle, someone who looks at him and doesn’t see tennis.”

You couldn’t answer her if you wanted to, but you wouldn’t trust yourself to speak anyway. You feel far away and floaty the longer her fingers sit in your mouth, your brain feels like molasses.

“I can’t give him what he needs. I’m not that kind of person,” Tashi says, eyes roaming your face languidly, like she’s window shopping your features. Her voice is nearly a whisper the next time she speaks, “but you are. You could be that for him.”

Your heart drops, the haze surrounding your brain rips away so violently, like someone took a leaf blower to it. Her words make everything start to fall into place, the at home visits, the “exclusive deal”, the weird ass run-ins you’ve had with her over the weeks. 

This was never about the goddamn massages.

For a few seconds you both stay like that. Standing inches away from each other in the half-lit kitchen of her and Art's house. For a second, you think you can see the tiniest smile playing on her lips before she drops her hand from you completely.

"There’s a car waiting for you outside,” she says, still close enough that you can feel her breath fan over your face, “See you next Thursday."

Tashi turns on her heels and leaves you alone, disappearing down the long hallway leading to her and Art's bedroom. You watch the whole time she goes, until she completely fades into the shadows. Your lip still tingling from her touch.

There’s only one thing on your mind as you incredulously stare down the now empty hall…

These people are so fucking weird.

[butch-reidentified]

# of Asks currently pending in my inbox as of 8/11/2024: 534

1. What is a woman?

Deep dive into my perspective on gender identity ideology (GII) & my response to an anon regarding "autogynephilia"

Argument for Using "Cis-Identifying"

Pitch: New Terminology to Replace "[Biological] Sex"

And related: A conversation with a "NERF" about radical feminism, gender identity ideology, and what we/I actually believe.

2. Inform yourself on some of the work I've done for trans people before you continue the trend of cowardly hypocrisy.

3. My thread responding to the way much of the tumblr trans community handled my sharing my story of surviving the 2016 Pulse Nightclub shooting (often by stealing my lived trauma and removing my url) is easily one of the most - if not the most - important posts pertaining to trans discourse I've made to date, and Tumblr won't let me pin it. Of course. So here it is. And a bonus: This lovely ask.

4. Hope for Women (this is a very new project, WIP)

5. Comparative Analysis of Cult-like Patterns in Gender Identity Ideology, Radfeminism

Another post (not mine) listing indicators something may be a cult

6. Response to an anon asking why radfems team up with conservatives (spoiler: we don't), including THE QUESTION I have about gender identity ideology that would make me change my views completely if answered; response to a similar anon simplifying the differences between TRA, radfem, & conservative views on gender.

About Me:

I am a butch lesbian, married to a badass gnc (but not butch) radfem lesbian goddess whose misandry surpasses even my own; she does have tumblr but rarely uses it - @psychichologramnightmare is hers. I'm 27/Taurus/May baby, though I'll be real, I've never liked astrology and found my birth chart n whatnot always laughably wildly inaccurate to me (sorry astrology girlies). Former competitive rock climber, still in love with hiking and climbing. Wilderness survivalist. Trained & armed woman, advocate for female-only firearm ownership.

My wife and I run our own business, and bought our first home together at 24 & 25 respectively - it's a lovely 4/3 on a quarter acre where we have 5 mango trees and more, plan to start growing our own food and herbs, foster kittens, and provide free housing (and more) regularly for those in need. We do a LOT of IRL feminist action/work/organizing. I post about some of that work pretty often, but I couldn't possibly post about all of it (even if it were safe to do so). I am basically organizing (mostly offline, but some online as well) full-time now.

Survivor of abuse, CSA + captivity, trafficking in my teens where I was forced into porn as a minor, the Pulse Nightclub shooting in Orlando 2016, and more. I am no longer affected by any of these in any negative psychological manner. I own my past, every moment of it, and wouldn't change a thing I've experienced. What I often tell people is, "I'm not glad it happened; I'm glad I was there."

I got my Bachelor's in Neuroscience/Neuropsych, used to work in a top neuro research lab, and have been a coauthor on a peer-reviewed scientific journal publication. I wrote my undergraduate thesis on POTS, ADHD, some of the relevant epigenetics, and norepinephrine dysregulation. I was diagnosed with Ehlers-Danlos & POTS in 2015, before pretty much anyone had heard of them (including most doctors). My POTS is very well-managed now, but chronic pain from EDS is more of a struggle. I recently went for testing for EDS subtype and was diagnosed with Type IV/vascular-type EDS (VEDS).

I practice "witchcraft" (kind of...) as a form of artistic expression. I don't subscribe to any literal metaphysical/supernatural/whatever set of beliefs or narrative, and have had a lifelong inability to believe in such things, but I am passionate about lesbian-centered/lesbian-exclusive (esp butch & gnc lesbian) witchcraft. I am also using this practice in part to connect further with my ancestors and their culture & way of life, but this would take a full essay to elaborate on/explain.

Adoptee with complex history. Working through a lot of feelings surrounding my ancestry - one birth parent was white, other was almost entirely indigenous Mexican (Nahua), and I have like zero personality traits in common with the former but have only been able to meet them irl not the other side - and the fact that my adoptive family (white) has not always handled things well in raising adopted kids. I only learned my full biological family history as an adult and was lied to by them about it my whole life. Which, looking back it feels like I always knew on some level, as adoptees often seem to, and it puts a lot of my childhood difficulties etc in context. Adoption-critical but not abolitionist - I plan to adopt with my wife in a couple years. I've talked a fair bit about my experiences, adoption trauma, ethical adoption, and more. Check out my tags such as #ethical adoption, #adopted, #adoptee, and so forth (tagged on this post for easy accessibility).

I spent many years surrounded by majority-trans-identifying friends/acquaintances both irl and online, deeply involved in trans spaces & activism, and even identified for a bit & was on T for a while. I am not "uneducated" or unfamiliar with trans-identifying people, their experiences, or gender identity ideology in general. You, like me back then, very probably have been lied to about radfems ("terfs") and what we believe and fight for. I am happy to talk in good faith (provided you do the same) 1 on 1 with anyone who is curious about what we actually believe and what we stand for, what common radfem takes on gender identity ideology & trans identity actually are and why.

I have a history of purely physical sex dysphoria (physical sensation like pain or itching). I got "top surgery" (elective mastectomy) due to this and other reasons: constant painful breast cysts & very large breasts (DDD even when I weighed under 100 lbs). I was not trans-identifying by the time I got this surgery (though I tried to briefly identify as nb/transmasc just bc I felt obligated, but hated it). I have never wanted to be a man socially and genuinely hated the very thought. I came out the womb feminist, got in trouble throughout primary school for fighting boys who tried to pull sexist bullshit, always lowkey believed in female superiority (I mean just look at our biology, lifespans, pain tolerance, the things we've done throughout history despite violent patriarchal oppression...). I spent years preparing myself. I read from & spoke to women who regretted this surgery, challenged myself at every turn, dove deep into my mind and thought processes, tried alternative treatment attempts, worked with a non-affirming therapist, made sure my past traumas were fully healed, and waited until I was in my mid-twenties so my brain was more or less fully matured. I have no regrets about it. I still have some (still purely physical sensation) dysphoria ("phantom male genitals" type of thing) at times, but have come to manage this very well. More on this here.

Formally assessed psychopath & participant in research by leading psychopathy experts (read on before jumping to conclusions). Check out this post and my #psychopathy tag (tagged on this post for easy accessibility) for info, particularly about high-EQ female psychopathy, & to find out everything you think you know about us is wrong 💕 (what you know about male psychopaths is usually right tho 💀)

Note: When it comes to politics, I strive to discuss exclusively that about which I am *uniquely knowledgeable* - by which I mean, essentially, that I (believe I) have something to contribute that is unlikely to be found on every other blog. I do not and will not make posts or reblog posts about topics I do not feel this way about. You are not entitled to know my views on every hot-button issue, and I have no intention of speaking on that which I know little about, or that I don't know enough about (through study or personal experiences) to contribute something you can't get a thousand other places.

Tag Guide (WIP):

#mine -> original posts, including ask responses

#ask -> ask responses only

#anon hate, #anon love -> should be self-explanatory. anon love does include some non-anon love for simplicity.

#catposting, #dogposting, #petposting -> images of cats, dogs, and both, respectively (not always my own)

#Wilder wives -> posts pertaining to me & my wife (last name Wilder)

#mvawg, #mvaw, #male violence -> male violence against women/girls

#what we believe -> fairly new tag for posts trying to educate on what radfeminism is actually about/damage control for disinformation & misinformation about it

#ethical adoption -> my takes as an adoptee on the issues within the adoption industry & how adoption can be done ethically

#nahua, #nahuatl, #mexica -> ranges from personal journal style posts about my process of reconnecting with the Nahua community to sharing facts about the language (Nahuatl, pronounce it Nawat) and stories from Mexica mythology etc. posts I make specifically as part of the facts-and-stories series are tagged #indigenous reconstructionism.

#trans violence -> violence committed by trans-identifying people, including threats of and graphic violent fantasies (primarily misogynistic ones)

#trans misogyny, #trans lesbophobia, #woke misogyny, #woke homophobia, #woke lesbophobia, etc. -> what it says on the tin

[brrahbrrahcharacterimagines]

Dirty Diary (Jiraiya x Reader)

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Jiraiya x Reader

Word Count: 502

Warnings: Talk of smut (read request), nothing explicitly sexual happens

Request: oooh could i request jiraiya with a writer s/o who’s awful at writing smut? i consider myself a pretty good writer but when it comes to nsfw…..i’m awful 😂 i think it’d be a good match for jiraiya all things considered lmao - @gonuclear

A/N: This has probably been in my inbox for forever, I hope you enjoy!

"What is this?" You heard your boyfriend say from your bedroom, making you freeze in place. His tone could only mean one thing.

He had found your diary.

The tall man walked out into your view, holding up the little pink book for you to see.

"Have you been writing a book of your own?"

You blushed, hoping he had not yet opened the diary. While you may be a happy couple now, you knew that the early pages of the diary contained page after page of your dirty thoughts about the man before you had the confidence to tell him yourself.

"Don't be embarrassed," he said confidently. "You know I'm a writer myself, and, well, you know what I write. So there can't be anything in here to be embarrassed of!" Jiraiya opened the diary, reading a random entry as you watched his smile drop in shock before returning even larger. "Or maybe I was wrong."

"Jiraiya," you whined, trying to grab the diary out of his hands as he read on. You were certain he had found an early entry. While you usually loved how much larger he was than you, it put you at quite the disadvantage now as you tried to regain control of your belongings.

"You wanted me," he said with a shit-eating grin, "to use my member on you?"

You felt your face burn.

"Wow, and you bet 'it has to be big because he's a big man."

Earth, please open up and swallow me whole.

You couldn't even look up to face Jiraiya anymore, knowing as bad as what he was reading was, it wasn't even the worst thing in that book. Realizing your reaction, Jiraiya softened.

"Hey," he said softly, "I was just joking around." You felt his hand on the bottom of your chin, turning your face gently to face his. "There you are," he said with a smile. "You know, I don't really have any room to talk. You're actually more bold than me."

You looked up at Jiraiya quizzically. There is no way he could consider you bold after reading that, and certainly not after you turned as red as you did from embarrassment.

"You know the issue of Icha Icha that was released right before I asked you out the first time?" You nodded slowly as he spoke. He smiled wide. "Did you ever notice how I described my main character aa a replica of you, repeatedly getting it on with a man eerily similar to myself?"

Your face flushed again, but this time it was accompanied by a smile.

He continued, "at least you were bold enough to write about me by name."

You snuggled into your boyfriend, feeling his arms wrap around you as you relaxed into his chest.

"So you're not mad?" You said softly.

"Mad?" Laughed Jiraiya. "It's hardly the first time I've thought about using my big member on you."

He's never going to let me live this down, you thought.

[sephirthoughts]

2 and 5 for the ask meme please

yayyy inbox games!!! dee is getting so tagged in one of these

2. an excerpt of my writing that makes me laugh

i happen to think i am very funny, but only a few things i've written have made me actually laugh aloud. among them are pretty much every interaction between tom and fred in the fic i wrote in my friend's universe. actually the whole fic is pretty good even if you don't know the original universe. 😂 the scene i excerpted is basically a normal office situation but these two idiots are trying to keep their co-worker from leaving work early

Today, the two materialized in front of his desk, yet again. This time to ask for his draft picks for the office fantasy foosball league. They even came armed with an elaborate, full-color bracket, drawn on a huge piece of white paper, pinned to a corkboard. All the available players were represented by sticky-notes with their names on them. “I’ve never heard of the office having a fantasy foosball league,” he said doubtfully. “Actually, I never heard of there being a pro-foosball team.” “Well, it’s definitely real and not something we made up,” Fred assured him. “Look at the big board!” Felix was looking at it. He couldn’t not look at it. It was currently blocking his path to the exit. But…they’d clearly worked very hard on it, so he may as well humor them. He’d just pick some players at random and then get out of here. “Ok, I guess I’ll take Peter Venkman and…Egon Spengler?” Felix gave them a look. “Are you guys serious?” “It’s a coincidence,” Fred said deadpan. “Yeah, lot of people named Peter and Egon in the world, don’t think about it.” Tom urged. “We gotta give everyone in the office a chance to play, so make it snappy.” “This one says Marty McFly.” “Ooh, fantasy…foosball?” Marjorie said, pausing as she passed by. “Is that a real thing?” “Beat it, Marjorie! This doesn’t concern you!” Tom said, trying to block the board, by standing in front of it with his arms spread. Marjorie planted her hands on her hips and stood her ground. “I just heard you say you were giving everyone in the office a chance to play! Are you excluding me because I’m a woman?” “No, it’s because you’re an accounting nerd, nerd!” Fred fired back. “No nerds allowed!” “What about Felix?” she retorted. “He’s a programmer. He’s like, a thousand times nerdier than me! Look at him, he’s probably still a virgin!” “Aw…come on,” Felix said, to which no one paid any attention.

5. an excerpt of my writing with a description i'm proud of

oh man this is harder. i don't think my descriptions are my strong suit. i'm proud of this one, though! i think it's pretty good! it's from a fic i wrote for Death Stranding and i just now realized is four years old

Towers of ice rose like jagged teeth from the black ocean, where they creaked and cracked with each swell and lull of its surface. The waves broke and dispersed into foam across the slate-colored sand, drawing back to rise and fall and break again, performing the steps of their endless dance with the serene forbearance of infinity. At the shoreline, an old man stood, gazing out over the timeless sea. Though years had stripped the mane from his hoary head, gnarled his hands and mottled his skin, he stood unbowed, his thin, bony shoulders thrown back and his bald head held high. For he had lived a life upon which he could indeed look back with well-earned pride. He had lived honestly and simply. Kept his own by the labor of his hands, and shared generously with others from what bounty nature bestowed. He had given much and taken little, loved and lost and suffered the slings and arrows of fortune without bitterness of heart. Though he had done no great deed of heroism, nor fought valiantly in any war, he would take his place among his fathers unashamed.

[psychewritesbs]

Unpopular opinion in the fandom right now, but I don't think Megumi becoming a villain is, if at all, plausible. It would be way too typical for Gege and very obvious.

I don't think he'll get out unscathed either and that a corruption arc is likely to happen, but in jjk's case this 'corruption' may be interpreted as the need to confront the worst version of one's self in order to reach completion. Kind of like a union of opposites (like how he got Totality after white divine dog got killed).

Don't know how Gege will do it but Megumi's upcoming arc might just make him the best character this series has to offer, and he's pretty much already on the way there.

Dear anon, I want you to know you are EVIL* for inducing the brain rot. Your cunning took you to the top of the ask queue. I have things I should be prioritizing, and yet here we are--me gladly taking the bait you so generously placed in my inbox lol.

You see, the thing is... yeah, my agenda is that I want to see Megumi go feral and do feral Megumi-things and be a menace. To whom? I'm torn 50/50 on whether I want him to be so distraught that he turns against everyone, including Sukuna, or whether I want him to shred Sukuna to pieces only. There's absolutely no denying that. But I suspect you might be right and I had already thought something similar might be the case.

I still think Megumi needs to take responsibility for himself, after all, him becoming or not becoming a "villain" and taking responsibility for himself are not mutually exclusive. But...

Evil*-induced word vomit under the cut.

... there's just something about Megumi right now that is asking for healing and self-acceptance and, yeah... other than the fact that Megumi going full on villain is an "obvious" outcome, a "cliché/obvious villain" arc feels kind of jarring rn if I'm honest. And while he could still become a "villain" and redeem himself (which is where I'd put my money--"corruption and redemption" arc)... idk anon.

I'm kind of with you actually? And at the same time I feel like being a "villain" in jjk is far more nuanced than just doing "#evil things".

Again. I want to see Megumi be selfish and go feral. But I really think right now the situation is calling for Megumi accepting everything he doesn't like about himself. Could he just loose his poop and go on a killing spree and then redeem himself? Sure.

I like the whole idea that someone you saved could hurt others. People have brought this up a lot recently.

But something that I can't quite put my finger on feels like you might be onto something.

Anyways, there's layers to your ask. Let's peel them back.

What if the corruption part of the arc was getting possessed by Sukuna?

Notice how the parallel between Toji and Megumi and them going on a path of carnage has to do with being "unconscious".

To be more specific, ever since Megumi got possessed I've been wondering whether the possession itself wasn't meant to be the corruption arc in question. As you say, "'corruption' may be interpreted as the need to confront the worst version of one's self in order to reach completion" and I couldn't agree more with you.

I wonder if Gege isn't telling us that Sukuna is what Megumi could be if only he got out of his own way. Tons of parallels to support this idea. But I think particularly relevant to this is that when we are "unconscious" to our potential and who we are, not only do we call what happens to us "fate", our sense of self is vulnerable to corruption from outside sources.

In Megumi's case, we're talking about Sukuna possessing his body because Megumi had a tendency to live for others and reject aspects of himself that he projected onto others. Cue that one panel showing "learned helplessness":

So... for a very long time I've been wondering whether getting possessed by a demonic force means his soul was corrupted.

Jacob's Ladder

Here I go talking about Jacob's Ladder again. Like... don't I have something better to talk about?

NO!

Guys. Seriously. Jacob's Ladder (1990) is... just do yourself a favor and go watch it and then watch videos analyzing it because I can't do the themes in it justice if I'm honest.

What I'll say about it for now is that this movie is a bit of a metaphor about the Tibetan Book of the Dead. Now, there are archetypal similarities between the stages of death according to the Tibetan Book of the Dead and Dante's Inferno in the Divine Comedy. This is relevant because Gege gave us two references to Dante's Inferno.

The first is that the purpose of the bath is "to be near evil" in the official translation.

But if I remember correctly, the Japanese raw uses the kanji for "beast" or something like that. Don't quote me on it. But the thing here is that at the very bottom of hell in the Divine Comedy, Dante meets the Devil.

The second reference is a little more of a leap in logic but we see it in the presence of Urizen's compass in the panel showing us Jacob's Ladder. Urizen is a character by William Blake who represents "God" and "good" as "reason". Blake is also the author of a painting depicting the Biblical "Jacob's Ladder". At the top of Biblical Jacob's Ladder and after climbing out of the Inferno, there is "God".

Gege dropping these references is interesting because they go back to the idea of good vs. evil and jjk "villains". More on villains in a bit.

That said. I'm going to leave this here just for funsies:

Jacob: I was in hell... it's all pain. Louie: You ever read Meister Eckhart?... Ekhart saw hell too. You know what he said? He said the only thing that burns in hell is the part of you that won't let go of your life. Your memories, your attachments. They burn them all away. But they're not punishing you, he said. They're freeing your soul... so the way he sees it, if you're frightened of dying and you're holding on, you see devils tearing your life away. But if you've made your peace, then the devils are really angels freeing you from the earth. It's just a matter of how you look at it. That's all.

What does it mean to be a "villain" in jjk?

Last thing I will say about this evil* ramble is that "villain" and "evil" are used in a very interesting way in jjk. The Jacob's Ladder reference specifically is very interesting because, according to what I shared above, going through hell can set you free from reason and attachments.

And villains and evil in jjk simply means "following your desires without regard for others." Villains have no attachments to others and are therefore freer to be themselves than others who do. This is, of course, exaggerated and blown out of proportion in jjk:

Sukuna emphasizes why extreme individualism (lack of regard for others) as "evil" is "bad". But I think that what Gege is actually doing with his villains is criticizing the collectivistic mindset in Japan: or "there is nothing wrong with leaving your attachment to others behind, being selfish, and doing what you desire, as long as you live and let live".

Where Sukuna says "if you're in my way I'll kill you," Megumi says "I won't kill you, so please don't kill me."

ANYWAYS. All that to say... I still want to see Megumi be selfish in the pursuit of what he desires, however that looks like. If that makes him a "villain", then so be it. He's already a more nuanced "villain" than Sukuna anyways because he is neither "good" or "evil".

And I think that's because Sukuna is missing one key ingredient...

Megumi's heart

(source)

I think D and I had this conversation after chapter 248 dropped? Remember I mentioned Sukuna's body language and thought patterns are unequivocally Megumi? If I remember correctly this conversation is in regard to that.

I haven't seen/read HxH so I can't speak to what D is talking about, but something about it rings TRUE.

And this is when I realized that, while I want to see Megumi do the "villain" thing, it rings more true that the corruption arc is behind us and now it becomes about Megumi's healing.

Just the way I had a weird intuition about something ominous happening to Megumi way back when, I smell a blessing from a mile away. Or as you said, "Don't know how Gege will do it but Megumi's upcoming arc might just make him the best character this series has to offer, and he's pretty much already on the way there."

ANON. YOU ARE EVIL for sending me this but I love you all the more for it. Thank you! As per usual, hope this made sense? LOL if I rambled too much and wasn't able to justify my points, I blame it on you for encouraging the brain rot before I finished cooking.

[alrightbuckaroo]

hi ada! it's nice ask week! i hope you don't mind me coming into your inbox!

what are your 3 favorite scenes in lone star?

what's your favorite hobby outside of fandom?

what's your favorite song/album right now?

Hello Rachel; I don't mind at all! I hope life is being kind to you and that hateful messages cease entering your inbox for the rest of time <3

what are your 3 favorite scenes in lone star?

Oh gosh, only three??

Maybe it's cheesy but I love the proposal scene. There's so many layers to it: the fact it was episode 3x18 and TK woke Carlos up at 3:18 in the morning, just after Carlos told TK he can wake him up at 3 a.m. if he needs anything??? I love the red string of fate, I love synchronicity I love soulmates. I also love the fact TK holds Carlos' hands the way he did when he told him they make a pretty good team. I say it all the time, but they really do hold one another like that's the reason God gave them two hands <3 Also the way TK rocks back and forth with excitement? The same way he flipped the ring he was going to propose to Alex with but because of anxiety? If I'm going to love anything it's a reference let me tell you that much!

I have gone out of my way to show people the Lou story line because to this day it might actually be my favorite. It's so miniscule, in a way, in the grand scheme of things but nothing beats TK walking in, posed like this: 🧍‍♂️and asking Carlos if they were robbed. As if the COP would just be sitting in a mess of a living room if they had 😭

Saving Grace is tied with Push as my favorite episode and I'll occasionally think of Grace telling Judd, "You're so tall." and Judd replying with, "You're so beautiful." and feel the need to scream because I LOVE them so much. I have a spin-off I want to write based off a Tarlos AU that's in the work and I can't wait to write them falling in love because I love falling in love with their love.

what's your favorite hobby outside of fandom?

Media consumption seems like the weirdest thing to call a hobby, but truly, that's what it is!

I love watching films that I don't know I'm about to love (Humboldt County, my beloved) , discovering new television shows that rewire my brain (looking at you AMC's Interview with the Vampire), listening to music that feels like sunshine (Cannock Chase by Labi Siffre, you will always be famous) or reading a book that makes me want to bite a brick (A Density of Souls by Christopher Rice ruined my life (affectionately)

If I'm not doing any of that, and this is going to sound so corny, but I write! I've been working on a novella for a little while as I'm trying to prepare something for grad school (that isn't gay firefighter fanfiction lol) and I was working on a book of poetry before realizing that I'm a much stronger narrative fiction writer than I am a poet (Ada Limón if I could just have a sprinkling of your voice please ma'am)

what's your favorite song/album right now?

Album wise it has to be Cowboy Carter. I've been saying it since forever, but Beyoncé truly is on a very different level than any other pop artist we have right now (and I like a lot of them! I loved eternal sunshine and I can not WAIT until Dua drops her third album in May)

If anyone is the music industry right now it is her because she is constantly reinventing herself as well and influencing the industry as whole. Did you know that she's the reason music comes out on Fridays now? Her impact !!

Anyways, one of my favorite genres of music is Classic Country; so think 1950s, 1960s Patsy Cline, Johnny Cash, Skeeter Davis, Lee Hazlewood, Glen Campbell; that whole bunch.

So, I was so excited to see what Beyoncé was going to cook up because that is a woman who makes sure each and every thing she makes is perfection and my god, it got as close as any of her work has gotten so far.

It also features an interpolation of Good Vibratations by The Beach Boys, who's one of my favorite artists so it feels like this album was made specifically with me in mind. Here's hoping Act III is rock because I need to hear her with Jack White again.

[nerdalmighty]

hey, sorry for randomly sliding into your inbox but! i just wanted to tell you that i'm about to start act 3 of bg3, would've started it sooner but i didn't get to play for a couple weeks as i was waiting to be able to upgrade my hard drive. and over the course of playing i've ended up changing several details of my tav's backstory as well as really fleshing out their character and getting into the roleplay, and i'm so attached to them by now that i almost don't want to finish my playthrough lol. i'm thinking of starting a gale origin playthrough once i do finish just so i can see more of tara. and i noticed that you're close to finishing the game as well! can i ask how birdie's adventure is going?

AHHHHHH DON'T APOLOGIZE!!!!!! I love talking BG3 :)

I am INCREDIBLY close to finishing the game. Like, about to go to the Nether Brain for the final battle close.

I've been putting it off FOR WEEKS because I'm so incredibly attached to Birdie and the companions and their relationships to each other and I don't want it to end!!

Since last we spoke, Birdie and the gang had just done the Iron Throne mission (breaking people out of jail). She decided NOT to go confront the other Wave Servants; that chapter in her life has closed. I won't spoil more of Act 3 since you're just getting into it, but I did I think maybe three other Big Plot Things and now it's time to actually do the damn thing and beat the game.

I'm a little nervous about some of the endings I may have gotten for myself (I'm concerned I may have accidentally condemned Gale to godhood) and I know there are some things I missed, purely because it was my first playthrough and I didn't know any better (I didn't get to know Rolan, didn't save Minthara, didn't get the Githyanki egg, etc), but I'm honestly excited for the epilogue sequence. Is it mostly because of happy/soft Astarion? YES! I LOVE THAT GUY! SUE ME!

My roommate and I have been playing the game at pretty much the same pace this whole time, so I'm about to watch HER beat the game this Friday. She's playing as a Gloom Stalker Ranger named "Sevyn" (yes, like the number 😂) who's romancing Gale, but we've made relatively similar choices throughout the whole thing.

I'm not too worried about spoilers since I know a lot of the outcomes, I just don't know how it happens or what the final battle looks like. But like I explained in my previous Birdie post, I like to look things up beforehand/during certain events because I like having help. Similarly, I love watching my roommate play and learning from/with her so I don't feel as in the dark when it's my turn. Granted, I played a lot without her during Acts 1, 2 and 3, but since we're getting to the end, I've slowed WAY down and have let her go first with most big things. It's not for everyone, but it's how I like to play!

I'm so attached to Birdie and this save file that I'm thinking of creating an entirely new account on my PS5 just to start a new game so that I don't have to save over previous Birdie saves.

Like, what if in a new patch, they add a new scene to Astarion's plot line? A new action (hug/kiss)? New camp idle animations? I want to be able to go in with Birdie and do those things, should they ever come up. Yes I COULD romance Astarion again (and probably will because I'm a weak woman) but as you said about your Tav and I've been saying about mine, I'm really attached to Birdie and I'm invested in who she is and how she fits into the world of BG3.

ALSO! Apparently they're adding mods at some point to the PS5 version? It's been taking everything in me not to buy it on my computer just for some of the mods even though I LOATHE sitting at my desk for hours on end. If mods come into play, I'll definitely want to see what kind of fun things I can make happen for Birdie and the gang. Additionally, one of my friends told me that people modded Skyrim to the point where they were adding new plot points and quest lines? If that happens, and they add like some sort of masquerade ball or event where I can dress up like a princess? You bet you're ass I'm going back to Birdie to let her do that 😂 I'd want to play new paths with Birdie in general, but I'm a sucker for a royal ball sequence 🥸

So basically, Birdie's story in Baldur's Gate may be coming to an end fairly soon. I don't know exactly when yet, but I've been having a blast and can't wait to play the game again and again and again. Right now that's hard to imagine, but I know I'll pick it up with a new Tav eventually because it's such a good game and you can't help falling in love with the world and the writing and the characters. I shall grieve the loss of this particular story, but I plan on keeping Birdie around for as long as I can.

[chaotic-on-main]

Hi Sky 👋 sorry if I am bothering you 🥺

May I request a moodboard of me levi and gojo?? Gojo and I are best friends; he has a feeling for me but I am in love with Levi and Levi loves me a lot. Gojo and I went on a long drive and I excitedly told him about my marriage to Levi and he looked very sad.

I know it’s cringe please forgive me. It is actually based on what I see in my dream few days ago

Levi x San x Satoru

☾ content/warnings ➼ angst, unrequited love, crossover (jjk and aot)

☾ a/n ➼ hi @notgoodforlife <3 this has been in my drafts for so long because life has been kicking my ass and I haven't been able to get back onto solid ground. but I hate that I've made you wait for like, 4 months. you asked for a moodboard and i got carried away writing this whole thing instead. I hope you're doing well over there, and I hope this doesn't hurt too much. ALSO THIS ISN'T CRINGE. ANYONE THAT SAYS SO CAN COME TALK TO ME INSTEAD OF CLOWNING IN YOUR INBOX. anyway. ily <3

☾ wc ➼ ~800

The jingling of metal keychains against each other grabs your attention away from the phone in your hand. As you look up, you see the sleek black car belonging to your best friend sitting in the driveway of your little home. White hair and a snarky grin, Satoru Gojo was right on time and leaning against the warm metal.

“Where's the grouchy old man?” He calls out, still a few yards from where you sat on the doorstep. You stand up in excitement, making sure to slot your phone into your back pocket before bounding down the last few steps to meet him halfway.

“The grumpy man has a name, you know. He got called back into work and won't be back until late, so it's just us.” When you say those words, Satoru's eyes light up just the slightest bit, but you miss it as you're busy pulling your phone back out to check something.  

“Oh good, that just means more time with me.” He says half-jokingly. As always, there’s that lopsided grin, but it slowly fades as he looks at you carefully over his dark sunglasses. “He's always at work. Does he ever make time for you?”

You're quick to throw him a soft glare at such an accusation. While his tone is lighthearted, it has a depth of concern that you don’t pick up. Satoru knows he shouldn't be so mean, but when it comes to you, he can't help but be defensive. He's loved you for as long as he's known you, after all.

“Of course he does, ‘toru. It really isn't Levi's fault. Some intern fucked something up in the computer systems and Levi is the only one that knows how to fix it.” At this point, you're sitting in your friend's passenger seat and buckled in. You run your fingers over the soft velvet that lines the door of his car.

Satoru always had nice things - car included. That's one of the perks of being a child to a decently wealthy family. But he was never showy with his possessions, and you liked him for that. If only you knew that you were the one thing he couldn't call his.

“Well, I sure hope they're paying him enough. Sounds like he's irreplaceable.” Your friend mutters as he puts the car in reverse and slides down the driveway.

“You have no idea.”

“The venue is down Main, right?” Satoru checks his mirrors before fully pulling out onto the mostly vacant street.

“Yeah. You know, I heard it was a sold-out show.” You pull your phone out to check a few notifications that popped up.

One was a text from Levi, apologizing once again that he had to pull out at the last minute and would make it up to you as soon as he could. He was always good on his promises so you can't help but smile at the date he has planned in the near future.

While your hand holds up your phone, Satoru notices yet again the shining bright stone that sits pretty on your left ring finger. It sparkles brilliantly against the orange setting sun. His smile doesn't fade but it wavers.

When you told him the news a few months back, he made sure to show up as the best friend he is. Oh, how you squealed in delight at him, telling him all the details of the proposal Levi had planned and what you already want from your wedding.

How you wanted Satoru there as your maid of honor to which you laughed right after, saying that you don’t have to wear a dress. You mistook his wide eyes as shock to the maid of honor demand instead of what it really was - heartbreak.

His heart had shattered into a million pieces despite the million-dollar grin he threw your way. You weren't aware of how he felt for you, and you never would. Satoru only wanted you to be happy, and it seemed that you were.

As he glanced at the ring and back up to the road, he couldn't help imagining what it would be like to have you wearing a ring he had picked out. How would he have proposed to you, he wonders. Would you still want the same things for this pretend wedding, or would it be completely different?

“’Toru?” You ask, breaking him out of his thoughts. Bright blue eyes shift in your direction at the sudden call out, and he grins over to you.

“Yes?”

“Are you okay?”

“Never better. Now let's get some tunes going, yeah?” That cocky grin of his made you laugh as you nod in agreement.

No, he doesn't need to think about these “what ifs". Pain is nothing new to him, and he would survive this one.

[1moremilgram-enjoyer]

Thus commences the last in the "Haru bugs FF about Milgram" series, with only two more characters to put on the table !! ...Huh? Ask in my inbox? What ask in my inbox, I have no idea what you're talking about !! Aha !! Ahahahaa !! (i swear i'm getting to answering it i'm sorry for the wait) The last two on the list is Green Anime Baby (/ref) and Schrodinger's Sexuality, both of which you have already talked about before but this can serve as an opportunity to say whatever else is on your mind regarding them

The end of an era, really. The final two people.

Take your time on my ask! It's pretty hard to get so many thoughts on these characters in words, because there's a lot to them, so.

CW: Internalized homophobia, suicide and murder, cults and indoctrination, child abuse, heavy Amane apologism.

EDIT: On second read, I may have come off a bit strong with the Amane apologism. Keep in mind most of it’s hyperbole. I recognize her actions are morally grey, that’s the fun of it, but this isn’t a serious analysis. This is a collection of brainrot, and so I’m letting myself indulge in mindless Amane apologism, hope it’s not too much of a bother.

Let's start with Kazui. The (allegedly) gay (possibly) aromantic old man. Yeah, the aro/gay reading has grown on me since I made that Cat post. Though I'm biased towards the aro thing for obvious reasons.

Anyways, I like him! For the final time there is the issue of sexual attraction being a decently big part of someone's character, and me not really being able to relate to that, but at least this one has the whole thing about lying and societal expectations which makes it a bit more interesting for me. I personally have never had any big issues with my sexuality after I figured it out, but I can sympathize with his struggles to an extent. More than I can sympathize with Mahiru anyways.

I am always inclined to like characters who lie a lot, because it makes them more interesting to analyze. I tend to prefer when they aren't constantly telling everyone they're a liar, but Kazui isn't as annoying about it as some other characters (if I can like Kokichi I'll survive Kazui's thing). Kazui is cool because there's always the tiny doubt in my mind that maybe we're making a horrible horrible mistake by voting him inno this trial, but the more logical part of me knows that really isn't the case probably.

Shame his songs aren't really my kinda thing. I like Cat well enough, and I think half is good too, they're just not what I usually listen to.

I think it's funny his first instinct in his first VD was to try and apprehend Es, very funny guy. In particular, I think one of the most hilarious things that I've seen from Milgram so far is when someone before the release of Cat shipped him with the bartender just so Milgram could have a "Gay or European" parody, which is great, watch it if you haven't, and then it became canon (in theory).

As you know, I'm currently voting him Innocent, not just because of the whole "defending the others" thing, but because he clearly regrets what he did, he didn't mean to kill Hinako in the first place, so while what he did was pretty shitty, I don't think it's completely unforgivable.

I'm honestly coming up a bit blank on what to say about him other than the stuff I've sorta already talked about. I'll talk about the interrogations later, because right now I'm sorta distracted... by her.

Look at her!!!!

Look at how silly she is!!! She is not mentally stable but she slays that insanity look!!!

There's more of them??? This is fantastic!!! I love that for her!!!

Look at how happy she is, going to commit first degree murder!!! Yes, go literally slay queen! Kill 'em! Make them suffer >:D!!

(That last image and her murder shot may be my favorite Milgram frames btw)

I love her a lot a lot. To make it clear to you, I like her about as much, if not even more, than Min. Yeah, that's the critical levels of brainrot we're dealing with here.

She's just so fantastic honestly. Her entire story and personality and capital S Silliness is just fascinating, I could think and talk about her forever. It's hard for me to put into words, because I think about her and I start vibrating. Hands are shaking because Amane too awesome.

Amane is the reason why I even got into Milgram in the first place, you know? Like, I was seeing it pop up around my dash every now and then, but I was content to kinda ignore it... until I started seeing fanart of this weird little girl standing in an army of clones, and she looked a little... a little silly you know? I wanted to see what the deal was, and so I started obssessing over Milgram, so.

And what a time to join. Purge March may not be my favorite song musically (it's probably fifth after Backdraft, MeMe, Harrow and Bring it On. Magic is a bit below that but I also like that one), but it's probably overall my favorite MV of the series. Amane's an incredibly interesting character, the visuals are awesome, and lyrically it's amazing. Literally my only complaint is that it isn't longer, like please under three minutes? The shortest fucking MV in the series?! Evil /lh

One of my favorite Milgram lines in general is:

After you cry, repent, and kneel, it’s now your turn to say that hopeless “I’m sorry” You’re sorry? I don’t care! Please, go ahead and die already!

Just the almost jarring shift from "like our religion ordains, everything will be back to normal if you just apologize and repent :)" to "I don't care what you do, I hate you and I want you dead" is fuckaingadjk yes Amane go go go kill 'em! I don't care if you try to excuse your actions by twisting your cult's teachings so much you actually contradict them! That just makes it even better!

Yeah my sense of morality cannot properly process Amane's crimes as actually evil. Honestly she could kill the entire cast and I'd forgive her. Sounds like a skill issue on their part not gonna lie. Just let her stab Shidou, come on! Let her brainwash Fuuta! If she has DID, then let one of the alters not afflicted by Milgram rules stab Es! I think that'd be very funny.

God, she's just asodak`+ anda alsldk

Sorry, I'm normal again <- Kazui-core statement (aka a lie).

Amane's just really awesome. I can't properly make a character analysis here because I will simply explode and I'd like to survive to see her third trial MV. I think I'll love it no matter what it is, but I do have some things I would particularly adore. Bassically I just want her to go feral, just- just go insane. My inner Veronika in full swing, I wanna see a play by play of her murder and just her covered in blood and screaming like yeah girl beat 'em up! I've seen some people suggest she should just turn into a monster in her MV and that would be so awesome. I am so immensely normal about her holy fuck do you understand.

Obviously I think she should be voted Innocent this trial. Because I'm pretty sure there's just no coming back from a second Guilty, so we're essentially dooming her and irreversably breaking her psyche. Shidou will probably survive any physical wounds she could possibly inflict, but I'm not entirely sure Amane would be able to recover after a Guilty. I also have a full draft talking about all the ways voting her Guilty just to protect Shidou could go wrong (Fuuta could attack in her place/there's a chance it wouldn't even stop Amane/Amane could sabotage medical equipment even while Guilty/Amane might still have the "first stage of physical restraints" from Trial 1 making a second Guilty redundant/DID could let her skip over the rules/etc). So overall I think Innocent is by far the better option, and I hope the way she's bleeding Inno percentage is some sort of statistical quirk and not her actually losing ground on absolute terms...

... But.

Listen, an inno is absolutely the best option in my mind. But if she gets voted Guilty, after I cry for a few months straight...

I am going to be so excited to see what she does in Trial 3. My inner Veronika coming out again, I wanna see how bad she gets. The more terrible and feral she becomes, I'll only love her more. I want to see all the horrible things she's willing to do and say without justification (/ref). God Kami-sama I need therapy.

Ehem. Anyways, I like Amane a lot.

And there's the dynamics, the dynamics! I've already brainrotted about her and Fuuta a bit on his post, but holy shit I love them so much. I want them to get out of Milgram and be silly together. They really are the siblings ever. Fuuta would introduce Amane to all sort of online and self-indulgent stuff she probably wouldn't have had access to before, helping her reconnect with her own desires and happiness, and Amane would try to get him to touch some grass and fail miserably. They are probably my favorite prisoner duo overall; they're both already silly on their own, and their silliness is multiplied exponentially when they are together.

Like, you gotta understand. It's not just that they are objectively hilarious together and they should hang out all the time always. There's also the parallels. Have you ever noticed how they both present themselves as heroes in their own ways (knight and magical girl)?

That they both want nothing more than to impress the very people who are pushing them to do bad things?

[Magic] I hope, I hope everyone can be happy and smile

[Backdraft] Tolerate, impress those spectators

The way Fuuta sees judgement as fire while Amane sees it as rain?

And justavs jas doj oq

God I am exploding I am going crazy like O2 I'm burning myself into oblivion I'm undeniably inequivocally definitely completely insane-

Okay I'm calm now. I need to stop thinking about 0308 parallels because I will simply combust. So we're moving on to-

Oh fuck the Es parallels too!

Amane: We’ve talked about this before. There are things more important than the law. That would be our teachings. Es: I won’t acknowledge you turning such selfish rules into a standard of judgment. I won’t allow it. End of story. A: … E: Both religion and faith are free. However, a doctrine can’t become a universal standard of judgment. A: You fool. Isn’t Milgram trying to enforce a new standard of judgment precisely because laws cannot guide this world onto the right path? Are you still being weighed down by the law?

E: Shut your mouth…! I am the one casting the judgements here! A: Hehehe. And how does that set you apart from us?

A: “We”? What’s “we”? Are you not just “I”? E: … I…? A: Aren’t we the same? Me and Warden-san. You know, I’m aware that I’m out of the ordinary. That my environment was peculiar, and that everyone else is normal.

What if I just ascend into another realm? What then? Can I still post my silly little thoughts from the world beyond?

Listen, there's so much to talk about with these two. I've already said I'm a sucker for protag foils, and Amane may be the most direct foil Es has alongside Fuuta and possibly Kotoko. Not to even mention their sibling dynamic, too, only matched in awesomeness by 0308!

E: No matter what you do, no matter how grown-up you behave – you’re a child. That’s an unchangeable truth. A: You’re a child, too! E: Wrong. I’m fifteen, so I’m an adult in Puerto Rico and Haiti. You’re twelve, so you’re a child no matter the country. A: …!! E: Hehe. You look angry. A: I don’t. E: You do. A: I don’t!

Actual sibling behavior what the hell. I think they should stick together if they get outta the hell prison.

Honestly it's ridiculous how awesome this girl is. I could talk about her and her parallels with all prisoners for days straight. I am not normal about her.

It's not even the prisoners either! Like, have you heard of the Sacred Texts, the godforsaken fucking cat parallels?! I'm going crazy just thinking about them. The only reason I haven't posted 15000 different posts about it is because Amane PhD haver Dr purgemarchlockdown has already talked about it so much. But they are so incredible. Animal cover goes hard, too. I have to listen to all of those at some point.

I will be so upset if she doesn't end up Innocent this trial (not as in mad, as in extremely depressed and a bit mad). I've even tried to cope by thinking of how it's mathematically possible she's actually been getting more Inno votes than Guilty but her percentage is dropping anyways due to statistical quirks and please tell me once the percentage stabilizes it will hover around like 53% give me some graphs I want to try to make some predictions please augh-

Anyways I need to calm down or I will never be able to post this.

So let's look at interrogation questions! New ones come out soon, yeah? I'm excited to talk about them when it happens (and after someone translates lol). Kazui first!

(T1) Q2: Is there anyone you hold in high esteem?

K: You wouldn't know them, but I have a childhood friend. I really look up to them. Sorry for bringing up someone you'd have no clue about.

(T1) Q17: What would you do if the world ends tomorrow?

K: I would lazily do some fishing. My childhood friend who I talked about earlier has a boat.

Childhood friends to lovers AO3 tag is strong with this one huh. Hope his Trial 3 MV contains a scene of him fishing. It's just a funny image really.

(T1) Q3: If you were allowed to do anything, what would you want to do?

K: I'd like to live righteously.

(T1) Q4: Do you think that your family is proud of you?

K: No. They must find me embarrassing.

(T1) Q7: Do you like yourself?

K: I can't really say I do.

(T1) Q19: Do you want to be forgiven?

K: I'm not sure. I also want my weakness to be tolerated, to be honest.

Yeah, the (alleged) internalized homophobia is strong with this one, huh. I'm assuming that's what he's referring to when he says "weakness" unfortunately. I hope he gets therapy when he gets out of Milgram. But you can say the same about all the sillies I guess.

(T1) Q5: When you go to an amusement park, what do you like to ride?

K: The merry-go-round. I actually want to try riding on one.

What. Is this. Is this related to the merry-go-round in I Love You? Like Kazui wanting to try being in a relationship where the love is (somewhat at least) reciprocated? Will think on this more later. Maybe.

(T1) Q6: What is the difference between an adult and a child?

K: Responsibility. Adults can't just go and do whatever they want.

One day I'll start making posts about the prisoner pairs and this will come up in 0708 but I am currently unable to think more about Amane without imploding so.

(T1) Q12: What is the meaning of life?

K:I wonder what. If you find out, kindly come and tell this old man.

(T1) Q14: Do you listen to music?

K: Well, a decent amount. I'm sure you wouldn't know them because they're all old songs.

Why does my guy always talk like he's about to die from old age. Dude you're not even 40 you have literally half (song reference hah) of your life left at least, at least try to live it you know?

(T1) Q15: When do you wake up/go to bed?

K: Because I don't have a job now, I'm letting myself act freely. I sleep whenever I get sleepy, and get up before noon.

I've always wondered about this one. Retirement for police officers in Japan is around 60 years usually, so there's gotta be some other reason my guy's unemployed. That's assuming he was a police officer, since I've seen some dispute the claim, but I think it makes sense. Did he quit after Hinako's death? Something happen before it? It's really peculiar, especially because we don't really get any reference to this in either half or Cat from what I can see.

(T1) Q16: Do you believe in past existences and fortune-telling?

K: I don't. I can't shift to them the responsibility of what happens in life.

Oh you mean like how Amane pretends her murder was ordained by God even though her cult would very clearly disavow her killing anyone or anything because of the whole "follow thine destiny" thing? Curious.

Alright now get ready for me to analyze literally every single Amane question out of principle.

(T1) Q1: Do you have any special skills?

A: Nothing that I can call a talent. Perhaps studying. I do well in my Japanese class.

Does murder count as a special skill? Because I think she's actually decently good at it. Her studiousness is obviously caused by the whole cult thing, but good on her for being good at Japanese! Couldn't be me.

(T1) Q2: Is there anyone you hold in high esteem?

A: My father. My father has been on a journey for a while, but that is something very honorable.

I've always wondered how the father thing plays into her story, there hasn't been too much reference to him yet. There is the second voice reveal trailer thing, but honestly I'm not too sure what to make of it honestly.

(T1) Q3: If you were allowed to do anything, what would you want to do?

A: Nothing really. I am not lacking anything.

Alright you lying liar.

(T1) Q17: What would you do if the world ends tomorrow?

A: If everything ends? Then, I might do all sorts of things I have never done before.

I fucking love characters who lie to themselves yes fucking inject that shit in my soul-

(T1) Q4: Do you think that your family is proud of you?

A: Of course. No daughter is as exemplary as I.

(T1) Q13: Who do you want to meet right now?

A: My father. I want him to praise me for working hard.

Her (allegedly) dead mother staring at her from hell like ಠ_ಠ

One day I'll make a post about how it's possible everyone in Milgram's just dead and Amane got killed by her father when he returned home and that's how she ended up in Milgram and I'll be sad.

(T1) Q5: When you go to an amusement park, what do you like to ride?

A: That is a place I should not go to.

I hate her cult so bad. I imagine that would be obvious, but I'll say it anyways.

(T1) Q6: What is the difference between an adult and a child?

A: There is no borderline there. I think there are grown-up children and childish grown-ups.

She had to grow up so fast I'm fucking depressed. Also ngl "childish grown-ups" is kinda based I think Amane should just insult people more often it's very awesome of her.

(T1) Q7: Do you like yourself?

A: I have never considered it from the perspective of love and hate, but I do think I am a good child.

Ouch. Ouchie ouch ouch.

(T1) Q8: Between ethics and emotion, which do you prioritize?

A: Both are trivial.

"Throw down, ethics is a delusion"~

This is honestly just a really funny answer. I get why she's saying it (common ethics and her own emotions are not as important as her cult's teachings in her eyes), but there's always a bit of hilarity that ensues when you say "ethics are trivial." Amane should honestly be allowed to violate Geneva conventions, I think the world would be better if she did.

(T1) Q9: Tell me what your family consists of.

A: It was my father, my mother, and I.

Was, huh. Wonder what happened there (murder happened there (allegedly)).

(T1) Q10: Is there any prisoner you're close with?

A: If I were to say, I guess it would be Yuno and Mahiru.

And then she wasn't! Kami-sama that first trial aftermath was a warzone.

(T1) Q11: What kind of meat do you like?

A: I don't eat meat.

The part of me that loves body horror sorta wants Amane to be shown eating her victim in Trial 3 to really drive home how 'this is not what the cult wants her to do'. Is that not a normal thing to say? It makes me sound completely fucking unhinged? Oops. Anyways.

(T1) Q12: What is the meaning of life?

A: I think it is something you learn for the first time when you look behind yourself when it ends. I do not want to have regrets then, so I live on with all my might.

Sometimes (a lot of the time) I think about Amane when she grows up and hopefully is out of her cult's control, and how she'll feel about the first 12 years of her life. I hope she and Shidou make up.

(T1) Q14: Do you listen to music?

A: Not really, to songs that are highly entertaining.

I headcanon that if the prisoner's listened to each other's songs, Backdraft would be Amane's favorite because it's exciting and she likes Fuuta.

(T1) Q15: When do you wake up/go to bed?

A: I go to sleep at 9PM, and wake up at 6AM.

She sleeps for nine hours a night? This is the healthiest sleep schedule I've ever seen in my entire life the fuck is this. I get this is because of the cult thing, so I think my girl should get to do a sleep-over with some of the other prisoners eventually, but still.

(T1) Q16: Do you believe in past existences and fortune-telling?

A: Although there are many fake ones.

How do you think Amane would react to Mikoto's tarot thing? I can't think of anything funny to say so I'm just not gonna address the question.

(T1) Q18: Do you regret your "murder"?

A: No. It was a natural obligation.

So true bestie, kill the bitch. I will live up to my name as the Local Amane Momose Apologist, I want her to kill everyone that's ever hurt her (not the audience obvs).

(T1) Q19: Do you want to be forgiven?

A: Of course. I anticipate that you will make the right judgment.

Come on, how can you disappoint her again? Vote her inno, she deserves it.

(T1) Q20: Any complaints about being imprisoned?

A: No. Because this is a trial by God.

Reason #543785478 why voting her inno is the better option: there is zero chance she sees a second Guilty as anything but another trial she must endure, so she'll only cling harder to her faith and I seriously worry we might not be able to get her back by the time Trial 3 rolls around.

Okay brainrot over. I'll be surprised if anyone survives that amount of insanity but here we are. Thanks for all the asks! And excited to see what you're cooking on your end. Take care!

[disfrutalakia]

Hi it's evillous AU anon again!! Now i've got time and it's not 11pm so I'm going to try and dump all my thoughts on it in your askbox >:D I started conceptualizing this while the election arc was still ongoing and something i've learned is that it's really difficult to make a complicated au of a story with characters that are constantly developing. several times i've assigned characters to one role only for the literal next day have a new plotline start that makes them fit a different role so much better and then i have to change everything around again. So this is 100% going to be outdated in like a week tops lmao. I've also taken a lot of liberties with things like who reincarnates into who and what order some events happen in, so it doesn't 100% fit the structure of either story. For reference i leaned toward making the relationships line up more with the QSMP storyline rather than evillous canon and its still heavily a WIP so things are going to be changed around a lot probably even while im writing this ask. I put a lot of thought into how the original sin arc would go in this au and there's a lot of details to it so to shorten it just a little bit i'll just explain that the federation serves as an overarching force/government/scientists thing throughout the entire story. they're conducting an experiment on the islanders where they're stuck in a cycle of reincarnation for 1000 years and their lives are going to be extensively documented to see what changes about them and how their society develops. The seven sins are something dropped into the world by the codes in order to mess with said experiment rather than being created by one person's soul like in the original story because tbh i hated that. I put ElQ in the role of Irina and Bad in the role of Elluka. I think they fit really well because I can then interpret The Song I Heard Somewhere as ElQ vowing revenge on Bad for assassinating him (in canon, at least. for AU purposes he kills all the other election candidates and wins) and Bad REALLY fits the role of the morally grey immortal whos creation is marked by a catastrophic event that destroys a whole civilization and they carry the guilt of that for their entire lives. As for the sinners themselves I haven't entirely figured them out yet? but for a couple of them i've got really detailed thoughts. For reference I also made it so each of them can reincarnate as many times as needed even if they've contracted with a sin before because I didn't want to remove characters from the story entirely. so: - Lust: I have no idea who i'm even going to begin to put into this role but the most likely candidate would be Pierre i think because of the whole bed thing? - Gluttony: I had Cellbit as this because of the whole cannibalism history thing he's got but other than that I hadn't really thought about it too much. I am sad to report however that the more BBH talks about eating living beings and inedible things he may fit better. it'd also be funny for the immortal assigned the task of gathering the sins to be the demon of gluttony itself. - Pride: tbh this one is pretty difficult to assign a role to because of how specific the original arc is and how it technically involves two characters. It's not something I could've put many characters in without really mischaracterizing them and I was thinking my best bet was probably Forever but then the happy pills happened and there's no way i could've not made him sloth. So my most recent idea was to change the pride story almost entirely and put Pac in the role? But more in the sense of 'two criminals are always fucking things up for the federation get a bit too cocky and have a warrant out for their arrest, Mike getting Pac to flee and as the feds are able to get at least one of them they're like "eh fuck it watching as your platonic soulmate dies is good enough torment for the other one."' but also idk. (1/2)

Ohhhh anon so sorry I forgot to check my inbox to reply to this BUT NOW I'M HERE AND AGH THIS SOUNDS AWESOME

First of all, I love Bad as Elluka (also i'm listening to survival ma, really sets the vibes I think) and also he is such a perfect choice for the demon of gluttony, like he would die by eating himself like Conchita (also who would be Carlos I wonder? Have no clue but someone gotta sing the best Kaito song ever made, drug of gold I love you so much)

And hum lust is a difficult one to pin down, especially cause like there is not many people I can see going the Duke Venomania route and having a fucking harem? Trying to remember who I saw being attacked by the lust mob more than once in the server and I think it was Bad (he really is Elluka hum, constantly finding sins left and right)

I think that Forever could fit well on pride actually, he is not like Rilliane was of course, but he is prideful in a way. Waiting to be the best president he can and not really accepting that sometimes his ways could be wrong.

[reiverreturns]

[20 Question Fic Writer Tag]

Tagged by my darling @milfeivor. I may not have written consistently in months but BOY do I like talking about it.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Twelve

2. What is your AO3 word count?

122,303

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Well I'm not writing much at all at the moment (bad menty health innit) but over the last year it's been pretty much entirely Top Gun Maverick, with some Assassin's Creed in the background just for funsies

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Quiet Promises (TGM) - 418

For Those We Left Behind  (ACV) - 383

Calefaction (TGM) - 292

Attrition (ACV) - 225

When We Collide (We Come Together) (TGM) - 184

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to respond to every comment I get because I think it's common courtesy when someone's taken the time and effort to leave one. I'm a little bit out of practice though (kiss kiss kiss grovel grovel grovel @ those left on read in my inbox)

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Blessed Are The Meek (FC5) maybe? A canon-compliant character study of Jacob Seed and his fucked up cult family has no iteration where things turn out well in the end.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I don't know actually - maybe Quiet Promises because I just really enjoy that ending and it's one of the only bits of published fic I've written I can reread and not want to edit more. If I ever finished writing the last chapter of Swim Until You Can't See Land it would probably be that but I'm just so very very lazy.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I had a tumblr anon one give me shit for not putting icemav in a fic but it was so fuckin weird to get I just deleted the ask. My brother/sister/comrade in christ I am the most niche rarepair stay-in-my-lane kind of fic writer. I am not a popular author in any fandom I write in. Why on earth would you think I care.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I try to write smut once a year when Eurovision sends me into my annual bisexual frenzy. It's not very good (my smut, not Eurovision)

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Short answer is no. Long answer is no with the exception of a Pacific Rim/Assassin's Creed crossover which I keep as a never-to-publish deliriously self-indulgent writing exercise to dip into when I don't feel like being perceived through words. I've got a whole Hytham/Jacob thing going that I'm fucking feral for which is soooooooo big brained of me imo.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of. I've read fics before where I can pick up a clear influence from my work on theirs but nothing like a straight up copy + paste.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nah. I've considered translating my own fics into Scots but it feels like a lot of effort for the sprinkle of folks who might read it.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No but I wouldn't be against it. I did a lot of rp writing back in the day with OCs and I really liked the collaborative aspect of it.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

I don't pick favourites I love all my insane children equally. I will say most ships I gravitate towards have a doomed by the narrative / love doesn't conquer all but it's enough in the moment kind of dynamic and I can trace that back to some of my early favourites (Ten/Rose, Merthur) to now (Kassidas, Eivor/Vili, RebelCaptain, so on)

15. What's a WIP you'd like to finish but doubt you ever will?

For Those We Left Behind. I have a lot of love for that fic but it is very reflective of the time in my life when I started writing it (bouncing off the walls bored out my tits under lockdown.) Lots of enthusiasm and energy to pour into it but little patience or planning. I look back on it as an unwieldy, rambly thing. I still do pick at it (and want to keep updating) but if we're honest I don't think I'll ever quite reach the finish line beyond the pieces that are already firmed up in my head.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I can turn a tasty metaphor on occasion. I tend to think I have a strong handle on the characters I write the perspective of and put a lot of effort into making them feel true and honest to the source material.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Plot - there's a reason why I tend to write canon compliant/canon adjacent and it's because it gives me the bones of the canon to work from. Pacing is a perpetual struggle. My attempts at smut are laughable.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

If it's done to serve a narrative purpose and/or show something about a character, sure why not. Absolutely abhor written out accents though (unless, again, for a very specific narrative/character purpose.)

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Harry Potter and Stargate. There's probably still some 12/13 year-old Reiver fic floating around in the internet ether that I hope no one is ever subjected to again.

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

I honestly don't have one - everything I've published I've loved at one point or another for a variety of reasons. Gun to my head I'll say Quiet Promises because I think it's one of the highest quality fics in my catalogue from an editing, pacing, and character perspective. Writing isn't about the technical skill to me though, it's about how it makes me feel and the audience feel, so no favourites here.

Tagging is still dogshit on desktop so consider this an open tag to anyone who wants to do it (but @ me I'm so nosy and want to read the responses)

[1d1195]

HIIIII it’s been a while i’m so sorry i’ve just had a terrible time since i sent my last ask :// summer is soooo kicking my ass but i am trying to persevere !!🫡 LMAO

MAKING HIM TAKE BUZZFEED QUIZZES IS SO SMART OMG I NEED TO TRY THAT !!! he said Steal My Girl 😂😂 lil basic but i can’t blame him it is a bop, we both go crazy when that one comes on

I SAW THE NEWEST UPDATE ON THE my-boyfriend-is-trying-to-be-a-writer-thread and SAMANTHA I CANT WITH YOU LMAOOOOOO this thread is so funny i just love that IT KEEPS GOING dw queen i devoured that 10k traditional chapter as if it were 1k🫡🫡🫡

also queen just wanted to let you know your stories follow me everywhere🥹 saw a framed poster on etsy titled ‘Wildflower Garden’ and it was SOOOOOOOOOO protection coded💔💔 it was a bunch of pretty flowers and it had Sweet Creature lyrics “wherever i go, you bring me home”😭😭 i love them sm he would totally buy it as a present for her on a random tuesday and they would forever hang it up in their home😭 and i saw a video on insta and i was CACKLING😭😭 some girl was talking abt how her dentist had his fingers in her mouth and she said something inappropriate and i was like ‘this is basically the plot of chapter 2 of Toothpaste’ HAHAHAHAH

i saw you posted Most and it looks SOOOO interesting but i really can’t lie im scared to read it cause everyone and their MOTHER are in your inbox hating on some bitch named lauren ??? i don’t know her AND I DONT NEED TO TO KNOW THAT IM NOT GONNA LIKE HER EITHER😭😭 THE PEOPLE HAVE SPOKEN !!! once u post part 2 i’ll def read it🙂‍↕️🤞

I STARTED LOVE AND OTHER WORDS LAST NIGHT ??? I ALREADY LOVE IT i’m barely a hundred pages in and i’m soooo invested in their story. what gets me is homegirl KNOWS he’s the love of her life and HE KNOWS IT TOO ?? and i’m just sitting here like “make out already ???🤨” HAHAHAHA but i know it’s not that easy😔 but i will defff let you know what i think as i read some more

idk if im stupid or what but i had NO clue Christina Lauren was TWO PEOPLE AHAHAHAHAH i opened the back cover of the book and i was like😦😦 ive seen SOOO many people talk about and recommending their books yet i never knew that ?😭 i think co-writing books with your bestie is SOOO amazing omg

HOW ARE YOUUUU ?? I MISS YOU SO MUCH 💕💕 catch me up on everything, big or small it doesn’t matter 🫶🫶🫶

~🎶

Oh no! I'm so sorry to hear you weren't doing well! I hope everything is okay, feel free to vent if you need to 💕 I'm so happy to hear from you, but don't feel bad about late replies, I'm happy to hear from you at all 💕

Steal My Girl reminds me of fall (the whole album does) but that was my favorite of their first song album drops. It really fit the vibe. The music video always makes me laugh. I never knew I needed to see Louis with a chimp until then 😭 A LITTLE BASIC. I'm SCREAMING. Good for him though, I don't think that's an obvious choice for casual listeners. I love it!

HAHAHAHAHA I feel like I'm truly living a double agent life. I feel a little bad but I will never tell him. He'll live without knowing. You're so kind 😭 10k of Harry being sick is usually where I start rereading Traditional. I don't think I've reread parts 1-5 since like maybe a week after I wrote them 😂

Omg that's so cute 😭 I think about that a lot, if my writing pops up in people's lives. Someone a while back sent a message that their parents got a new washer and dryer and her mom tested it with like one sock and it made her think about Love and Dryer Sheets and I just thought that was so cool 😭 I LOVE the idea of her buying the poster for her on a random Tuesday. I feel like Toothpaste is going to be simultaneously the most relatable one and least relatable one as idk if I know any hot dentists 😭 but that's really funny nonetheless!

I think I remember you telling me that you don't like to read unfinished stories? I think you did it with Dolcezza maybe; no worries either way. But knowing that, you may want to sit this one out until I get like part 2 AND 3 posted? I feel like I'm going to get "SAMANTHA -🎶" in my inbox and nothing else if you read it before it's done 😂 But yes, we HATE Lauren here. But of course I want you to read it when you have time/want to 💕 I would love to hear your thoughts!

I'm so happy you're loving it! MAKE OUT ALREADY LITERALLY. I just loved their story so so much he's so in love with her I cannot. It gets a little deeper but it hooked me so fast I couldn't put it down. I think I read it in one day.

YES. I forget how I figured it out, if I also read the back cover or if I was googling them or something idk. But it's SO cool they write together! I wish I had a writing bestie to do that with, but anyway!

I'm doing well! I think when we last chatted I was STRESSED™ over everything and now I'm MUCH less stressed thankfully. I'm really not doing a whole lot these days. Just trying to enjoy the summer even though the weather is crappy af lately. Too hot to breathe one day and then raining off and on for hours. Can't do anything outside. I made a yummy pasta dish for dinner last night and other than that, my life is pretty boring.

I hope you're doing better, I've missed you so much as well! I hope that things calm and settle for you so you can relax and enjoy 💕

xoxo

[from-izzy]

hi izzy,

I hope you don't mind me doing this on anon but I just wanted to say in response to the two anons who seemed to have a problem with your work that there is absolutely nothing wrong in the nature of the topics that you're choosing to write about. You're neither approaching it insensitively nor are you forcing your content upon anyone and that's actually quite important because anyone who chooses to engage with it is therefore doing so of their own free will like those anons seem to have done.

You've even addressed the issue of content warnings too to make sure that people know what they'll be getting into so honestly, there's not much more you can do beyond that if they choose to continue reading. But you, having taken those actions, would already know that.

I've not read through all of your works (which is a damn shame) but even I have to acknowledge the importance of the topics that you address in your personal series. Not all fiction (fan made or not) exists to perpetuate typical notions of romance. And actually, it's so important to have media (whether it be in the form of books or whatnot) that addresses mental health and other such topics in order to circulate and normalise those discussions. It's so easy for people to say they advocate for mental health, etc. but when someone does something that could positively impact the field, they're quick to reject it because it's uncomfortable for them. Life isn't always comfortable for everyone and THAT'S the reality of it.

And the notes about how writing isn't meant to reflect reality, etc. is absolute nonsense. The whole point of writing is that authors put to paper the words they wish to read or the stories they want to share. It's not an exclusive field. And you're doing just that. Sure, your work may not give everyone the escape they want but you never claimed it did. Plus, not everyone engages in reading to escape. Some people read to be comforted, to relax, or simply because they want to. And your work is so important for the former.

Most importantly, it helped you! Writing is your outlet and no one should be allowed to take that from you simply because it doesn't meet their standards of what writing should or shouldn't be. It would be a shame for anyone to lose literary integrity simply because people don't understand how impactful your words can be to the people that read it and those that need it (and that includes yourself).

I really hope they don't discourage you from writing not now and not ever because honestly, from what I have read so far, it's important for you but also for others that you're able to put the work you want out there.

Anyways, I wish you all the best for the future and sorry for my messy rant!

hi anon 🥹 i'm sorry i'm responding this encouragement of yours pretty late 😭 i wanted to make sure i wrote a really nice reply back with all the points you made here, making sure that i convey my gratefulness to you for this 💝

i remember reading this for the first time and my first reaction was to panic first because well...as you mentioned in your ask, i haven't had the best times with anon asks 🥹 in saying that! anons like you and others have come to my inbox to send my encouragements and i'm really glad for you all 🫂

thank you for supporting in the topic that i write about, i really appreciate this ❤️‍🩹 mental health is still such an interesting topic when being talked about in public. in a closed off space, for example, between friends or between a professional, it just stays there but open the door just a little bit, and somewhere in the crowd, you'll see someone glaring at you for talking about it. i grew up knowing nothing about it and so moving to a culture where it's heavily emphasised is something that i'll always be thankful for. being able to talk about it has helped me so much and that's why i choose to write these and i don't see myself stopping to write about these. but of course, content warnings!! thank you for acknowledging that i'm doing all i can for this 🫂

i see the way topics of mental health have developed in my life and for me, it's touching that most people are now able to talk about it without being judged and i genuinely think it should be like that going forward. i do understand how these topics can be uncomfortable but that's why i think setting boundaries are key. for writing, i do this through warnings, for friendships and conversations, i ask about how in-depth i can talk about each topic.

concealing it, ignoring it and/or stopping to talk about these topics will only make it worse. and this goes with anything that should be talked about more.

when i first started writing, i knew that i wanted to talk about these kinds of things but i was too scared to jump into it straight away. that's why it was really hard for me to release cupid's mistake because the main idea of that story is a part of me that not even everyone in real life knows about me. it has always been a goal for me to connect with my readers a bit further by explaining the background of the story and how it relates to me. i think this step further is important for telling people that they're not alone if they're facing similar issues; because that's how the people around me has helped me in my mental health journey.

i thought about why i was scared at first but i decided to go for it and i told myself: if people judge me because of this, then they don't have to read it!! it's similar in real life where if people judge me over this, then they don't have to be around me or be my friend. it's as simple as that to me. i can see why readers who don't write think that stories could lean towards being written not based on reality but you're correct anon, it's not an exclusive field and everyone reads for different reasons 🥹🫂 just the same as how writers will write for different reasons. for me, it has always been to talk about these topics and provide comfort. but yes, not all my writings are centred around that because i still love other genres too!!

writing has helped me in ways that i never thought of and for me, it's a healthy hobby that i hope will continue to be 💜 i'm even thinking of taking a unit on creative writing next semester but we shall see about that!! 🥰 if i do, hopefully i can make the quality of my writing better!! 🫶

thank you so much for supporting my work, anon 💝 genuinely, this gave me so much comfort and it's not messy at all by the way! i think this response is messier 😭🤣😭 i have no idea who you are, if we're mutuals, or if we have ever interacted before but if someday you're ever ready to reveal yourself, i just want to give you the biggest hug but for now, here you go: 🫂🫂🫂🫂 thank you for making me feel welcomed and loved in this community 💕

all the best to you too!! have an awesome rest of the day/night!! ☀️🌙

[sansaorgana]

Hello! Can you write one where there's a new pilot on the base who has a crush on the reader, not realising that she's dating Buck and Buck catches him flirting with her (maybe while he's dancing with Meatball) and he goes over to make sure that the new guy knows she's with him?

hello babes, I decided to combine these two requests 😌 proceed with caution because it contains a forced kiss upon the reader so the subject might be triggering for some 🌹

I currently have quite a few requests in my inbox and I hope to work on most of them over the weekend 👌🏻

my inbox is open for blurb/short fic requests for major cleven 🤗

The new pilots were so cocky and sure of themselves, not yet experienced in the battle. Some of them haven't been up there at all. For them, the war was stil an exciting adventure. You were an archivist – to you, war had never been exciting. It was all about files, reports and copies of documents that had to be precisely organised.

But war – as terrible as it sounds – had brought something good into your life, too. Something so wonderful that sometimes you had caught yourself thinking that it just had to break out. You couldn't imagine the world without this war because it would be a world in which you would never meet the love of your life – Major Buck Cleven, one of the best pilots who was close to his 25th mission and your future life together without worrying about death every given second. That was the exciting part about your life.

Celebrating another pilot's successful 25th mission made you daydream of how it would look like when Buck accomplishes the same thing. You didn't even notice when you got exhausted from all the dancing but the music had stopped and so did your Buck, with his arms around you as his worried eyes searched for yours.

"Hey," he waved in front of your face and you smiled, "come back to me. Where were you?"

"Sorry, I've been daydreaming a little," you admitted with a giggle and he sighed. "I've been thinking of how the party for your 25th is gonna look like. About the decorations I'm gonna prepare and everything…" you stopped seeing how sad his smile became. He didn't like planning ahead so much. He wanted you to assume he would die any misison so you wouldn't have your heart as shattered. But it would happen anyway. Your whole soul would shatter if he died. "I'm sorry," you whispered and pursed your lips. "I'm exhausted," you added.

"No, don't be," Buck caressed your cheek and walked you back to one of the tables. "Get some rest, we've been dancing for two hours now."

"Really?" you glanced at your watch. "Woah, that sure counts as a training."

"Sure it does," Buck booped on your nose and you giggled. "May I have your permission to dance with someone else, very important to me?"

"Um…" you raised an eyebrow, "do you mean Bucky…? I'm not sure… As long as it's not a lady," you teased.

"It's not a lady," he assured you.

"Well, then, whatever," you shrugged your arms and watched him approach Bucky indded. But instead of asking his friend jokingly to dance, he crouched down and kissed Meatball's head before carrying him up and going back on the dancefloor. You laughed at the sight as Buck winked at you.

You leaned back on the chair and watched the dancing couples sleepily as your eyes seem to close themselves. Your legs were numb from all the dancing and your head was starting to ache as well.

"Hello," someone's voice made you turn around. It was one of the new pilots and he looked pretty awkward. His cheeks were flushed and you could smell some alcohol on him. However, his eyes were very soft as he kept staring at you.

"Hi…?" you greeted him and noticed a group of other pilots laughing in the distance. They were clearly watching your interaction. "Have you lost some bet, poor man?" you asked to make sure.

"No, not really," he swallowed thickly. "I'm sorry but… I know I'm not here for long, barely a few days but… Well, I had to drink a bit to gain the courage," he laughed nervously and sat down next to you. You moved uncomfortable in your seat. "I think you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," he confessed.

You widened your eyes at him. He clearly hadn't been told you were Buck Cleven's girl although it was no secret. You had to admit, though, that it felt nice to be told such a thing from a man you had barely known. Buck was way more subtle at flirting. This man was taking no prisoners, clearly.

"Have you not seen many women before perhaps?" you teased him.

"Seen and kissed," he smirked at you and you were taken aback by his words. Annoyingly, he was quite handsome. You wanted to tease him for a while longer.

"So you kiss and tell?" you crossed your arms with an amusing smile.

"Oh, if I kissed you, I'd tell everyone, surely," he moved a bit closer and you didn't even flinch. "What about… I kiss you and you decide if you want to continue this conversation or not?" he proposed.

"Well, sounds like you're very confident about your skills."

"I am," he suddenly was so close that you felt his breath on your skin. For a moment you didn't know what to say because you got lost in his extraordinary green eyes.

You were about to move away from him but he misunderstood your staring and joined his lips with yours. You squirmed and squealed, trying to push him away but he wouldn't stop, almost aggressively trying to make you kiss him back. He was a passionate kisser, sure he was, but he didn't want to stop.

Your squealing made a few men turn around. They laughed and whispered between each other. Buck turned around as well and his heart skipped a beat at the sight of his girl being kissed by another man. It didn't look like you enjoyed it but it also wasn't like you were pushing the man away as strongly as you could have. At least according to Buck.

He put down Meatball gently and scratched him behind his ear before fixing his uniform and approaching your table angrily. His jaw was clenched and his thoughts were filled with rage. He felt… betrayed. And humiliated since it was happening for everyone to see.

"Excuse me," he cleared his throat but the man kissing you didn't care. After all, he seemed to have no idea that you were Buck's girl.

Buck took a deep breath in and physically separated you from the young and overexcited pilot. You had never felt his hands being so rough with you like in that moment. You looked up at him, scared, with your lipstick smudged and eyes widened.

"I…" you started nervously, "I didn't want that…" you started.

"I'll speak with you later," Buck drawled out and you froze for a second. You definitely had never experienced him being so angry… Let alone angry at you.

"Major Cleven, is something wrong?" the young pilot stood up quickly. You heard his friends laughing in the background. They totally had known about you dating Buck and set the poor guy up. You wanted to punch them yourself.

Buck grabbed the young pilot's shirt and pulled him closer over the table.

"Stay away from my girl," Buck's eyes were fixed on his rival's with the most serious expression. Meatball could sense his anger and approached him while barking. Now everyone's eyes were on you and you felt like you would die of embarrassment any moment.

"Can we please… stop…" you tried but Buck laid his angry eyes on you for a second before staring back the young pilot. You knew he wanted you to stay silent.

"Shit, I had no idea it was your girl, Major Cleven…" the young pilot began to stutter and Buck's hand twisted his shirt to bring him even closer to his face. "You're my hero, I swear, I would never disrespect you like that… No one has told me…"

"Really? No one? Even her?"

You took a deep breath in because you didn't like the way they were discussing you, like you were an object. And you were sitting right there. However, you decided not to start a fight now and make it even worse. Instead, you stood up and approached Meatball to calm him down and hug him because you needed that to calm down as well.

"No, she did not, I swear. I didn't want to… I didn't want to do anything against your girl's will, Major," the young pilot shook his head and you chewed on the insides of your cheeks, trying not to say anything.

You had been basically pushing him away all the time but apparently for men it meant that you wanted them to continue.

"Get out of my sight," Buck gritted his teeth and let go of the slightly drunk pilot. He landed on the table face down but quickly got up and walked away as fast as possible.

You focused on kissing Meatball's head, trying to avoid confrontation with Buck. He was looking down at you in a manner you did not approve.

"I'm going to bed," you finally sighed and stood up, pretending that nothing had just happened. You grabbed your jacket from one of the chairs and left the room. You could see people staring at you and whispering between each other.

When the doors closed behind you, you heard someone's fast and loud footsteps following you. It was Buck. You started to walk faster but he grabbed your shoulder and turned you around angrily.

"Ouch, you're hurting me!" you squealed although it wasn't true. He was angry but he made sure not to actually hurt you. "Brute!" you gasped when you found yourself facing him.

"What the hell was that?" he asked and you shrugged your arms.

"Do you even care to hear my version of the story? Because you silenced me back there and seemed to believe what that guy had to say. I have nothing else to add," you told him and walked away again.

"For God's sake, you were kissing another man!" Buck wasn't convinced. This time he was a bit rougher with you as he turned you around and pushed you against the wall of an empty corridor.

You hated yourself for that, but you found it pretty hot. He had never been so possessive about you. And he had never roughly pushed you against the wall.

"He was kissing me and I was trying to push him away," you drawled out through gritted teeth with his face inches away from yours. "I admit, I was teasing him a little but I had no idea he would actually kiss me. I didn't want to tell him I'm taken the moment he showed up because I am not your property and you don't own me, understand me, Cleven? I won't tell every man approaching me that I can't talk because I belong to another."

"I don't expect that from you," Buck rolled his eyes. "But he was…"

"And you," you interrupted him, pointing your finger at him, "the way you spoke of me. Like I was an object. I didn't like that either."

"What do you mean?" Buck seemed to be genuinely surprised.

"When you were addressing me as her when I was right there as if I were too dumb to realize you were talking about me," you explained. "And when you called me your girl. It was nice but… You wanted him to leave me alone because I am your girl. Would you save me from him if I was a random girl and not your girl? Were you saving me from him or were you saving your property?"

"What are you on about, doll?" Buck seemed to be a little confused.

"Well, I've read some feminist pamphlets lately…" you confessed, "…and they suddenly made sense to me."

Buck blinked a few times, very slowly, like he was processing this information.

"Baby, I didn't mean to make you feel like an object. Or make it look like I believe him more than you… I was angry. I'm sorry," he shook his head.

You were surprised he didn't laugh at your feminist pamphlets, though. He didn't even comment on that.

"To be honest, even if you kissed him willingly, I'd probably forgive you anyway," he confessed as his eyes became a bit sadder. "I'm crazy about you."

"What…? No, no, no!" You gasped. "Oh, baby, I would… I would never…!" You cupped his face to bring him closer and joined your lips together.

Kissing him felt different than kissing that young pilot. It felt like going back home. His lips were warm and sweet, made you feel safe and dizzy from how much you wanted him. He was your Buck.

"Better," you whispered after breaking the kiss and he smiled at you lovingly, "so much better than that awful guy."

"At your service, little one," he winked at you.

MASTERLIST || BUCK MASTERLIST

[black-and-yellow]

Mer!au from your dream? 👀👀👀

I think I've talked about this dream a few times actually. But just in case everyone has forgotten, I'll give you the rundown.

So basically All Might and Aizawa were pirates (y'arrr) and Todoroki was their ship deck cleaning boy. I think there were other people there but they're the only 3 I can name. Mic was a merman I guess, and he had teamed up with them to bring them treasures from the ocean. I'm not sure what he was getting out of it, maybe they fed him or something. Anyway, they found this huge treasure chest so they were keeping it on the pirate ship. Then one night this slippery little guy steals it. Flops up onto the deck, grabs the treasure, splashes back into the water again. He needed the gold to pay for fish man medicine. From the underwater fish pharmacy. Which was just like a normal, modern pharmacy but underwater. But then when he got there he felt really bad for stealing (as he should) and left again. Then Todoroki, who was the fastest swimmer of the crew, was swimming towards him on the surface so they met up and Mermic was like 'bro you gotta help me give this back :( ' so they carried the chest to a little beach and left it there (because the fishy man knew if his pirate friends saw him they'd be upset). So he put a little sign up in the sand explaining everything and swam away and never saw his friends again. He lived the rest of his life sunbathing on a tiny island. He may have died without his mermedicine. We'll never know.

Someone turn this into a fic, I'd read it.

[goodkwuestion]

I appreciate you won't be able to post this and without wishing to police what you post on here and yukking someone's yum could we possibly move away from the Gallavich as girls topic now? I know I know two whole posts but I read your fic and tumblr very much for boy Gallavich and FBI agents and vampires and game developers and mob bosses and egg dissing and not to go down the route of gender stereotypes but you always write them pretty masculine which is one of the appeals of your writing to me. I'm not here to read about Ian getting his period. I don't hate women, it's not a woman hating thing, big fan of women, some of my best friends are women but I need my Gallavich male please.

Your female characters are written beautifully; Gabby, Carrie, Carol etc but I'm not sure I'd cope with Ian and Mickey as females. So yeh, no more please?

Sorry if any of this ask is rude. I know authors can write whatever they like and you're all a gift to fandom so just ignore me if I'm being an asshole.

THAT BEING SAID their enthusiasm was very sweet and I hope they do get to explore their girl Gallavich pairing without hate and nastiness. I would NEVER comment on a fic or a tumblr dedicated to them, I ain't here for cruelty. OK I'm done now I swear, thanks for putting up with this fandom ❤️

I actually waited a day to see if this would still irk me, and you know what? It still does. So of course I'm going to post this, because this is a beautiful lesson in resilience, anon.

You instinctively knew this was a dickish ask to send and that it might not be so well received, but you overcame these challenges and persevered anyway. Controversial, and yet so brave.

I had a whole lot of rude shit to say, but it's Friday and I'm physically, mentally, and emotionally tired, so I'm gonna condense. This was an unnecessary message, for a number of reasons. Unnecessary and ass-blisteringly annoying.

The only thing that would have been cool to send was that little follow-up message where you hoped the other reader would be able to explore their desired trope, free of harassment. Dassit.

What really chapped my hide was the fact that you absolutely knew this was assholery wrapped in a gossamer veil, because you even acknowledged this several times. You could have kept all these thoughts in your head, but you just had to express that while the other reader's desires were gross and should be dismissed, your testosterone addiction must be recognised and validated. Cool, I see you. You are seen.

Now I've said this before and, unfortunately, I may have to say this again. I write what I love and I do what I want, and then I share it, hoping others will enjoy it too. There may come a time when I write something that may not be to someone's liking and that person is free to take their business elsewhere.

Don't come up in my inbox, tipping your fedora, trying to tell me what I should or should not do. I won't tolerate it not matter how nicely you put it. Antifreeze tastes sweet but it's still toxic.