#and also you know its the two of us and another woman in here rn like the rest is all men :puke:

[2demondogs]

HIIIIIII RAHHH

sorry

Im the same anon who asked you to write the latest arthur x m!reader and omgg you envisioned what i wanted so well! you're an amazing author!!

I was also wondering if you were up to write more parts to this specific prompt of the affair? it doesn't have to be smut again, just a continuation of the story ykyk?

Thank you so much, I'm so glad you liked it! <3 Sorry this took so long, I had an immediate plot come to mind bc I'm fuckin' heavy w this AU but then I got nerfed by life. Original work I'm writing rn is affair-based too... I'm on a messy gay bitches kick I guess lol. No smut in this one.

For the uninitiated, part one is here. On Ao3, I've just added this as a 2nd chapter.

Words: 3.6k Tags: pre-canon, extramarital affairs (reader's married to a gal), chalk full of messy drama, this is like a situationship but even more evil

The bruises Arthur left lasted for nearly two weeks.

You're thankful that the soreness wasn't present for quite as long, coming in hard and fast in the morningtime. It felt like you'd sat on hot coals. Riding home was nearly unbearable, and not only because — for some reason that couldn't've been worth what it did to your heart — the man spent the night with you. Maybe he thought it would feel less transactional than an evening together usually must, though you'd not know. Maybe he holds every man he lays with while he sleeps.

The fact you don't know anything substantial about Arthur, sometimes, bothers you. Your wife wanted to lose her virginity on a more special occasion than her wedding day which also, sometimes, bothers you.

Anymore, you twist the ring around your finger and quiet that blackness in your gut by reminding yourself: if she's got someone else, well— haven't I?

She doesn't, you know. Never have you been one to play those petty games of accusation based only in your own sorrows. As you ready for bed, there is no other man undoing the laces of her corset. Nor does he do them up in the mornings, having learned exactly how tight she likes them done; no other woman fixes your ties when you wear one, nor goes to undo the first button of your collar because it looks less stiff this way.

Stiff is the awfulest thing, your wife believes, a man could be. You suppose you're inclined to agree, in most cases. It certainly does not ease the tension in your shoulders to know you're becoming stiff, and for reasons she's not privy to.

She hasn't got another, no.

Have you?

Firstly, it would break her heart. Or at least, you think as much. It felt too fresh to be desired how you were, openly and hotly, by Arthur. A wife should be her man's best friend and her, his, but is she too friendly? You had rolled that one around your head until the purple on your chest began to fade and you were beginning to forget, with a great sense of regret for how fast memories discolor themselves, how Arthur had looked at you that first moment alone. By then, it was beginning to aggravate you how difficult women's clothes are to do and undo.

Secondly, you hadn't been able to shake the idea that she'd find out. Someone saw you, you fear, and felt so bad for your poor betrothed that they're about to risk their own life to out you. Any minute now, two years of marriage and many more of some sort of love will be lost.

It'd been awful enough trying to fall asleep in a place with such a target over its head. It was foolish, you know now that you are no longer aroused and careless, to not find another, safer room to board in for the evening. It was foolish to feel safe because Arthur was beside you, and even more foolish to let Arthur stroke your hair. It'd only been for a moment. Your wife hasn't thought much of your requests for it every night since then, though her slender, soft fingers kept you awake and tense.

Mostly, you feel confused. Torn, more like; ripped apart. It's unavoidable, now, the answer to whether you like men or not. The wonder is so satiated, in fact, you're starting to fear that you used Arthur for your own exploration in a moment of callous selfishness led only by your prick.

It's soothed by the longing, and then you feel the pain of her delicacy. You're beginning to question if you like women or not. The answer is coming into focus the more you look at her, though she only thinks you missed her enough to be crazy for her.

God, does staring truly count as being crazy for someone?

How distant have I been?

How little have I known myself, all this time?

And yet remains the urge to be pleasant for her. To loosen your collar and yourself and have her draped over your arm, because you do still love her, even if only as some odd sort of close friend that lives with you and dotes on you and fixes your hair when it is windblown and looks at you when you light her cigarettes, because she's forgotten her matchbook again.

You fear, despite this love, you are using her.

There is still a certain, adoring pride you take in knowing how tightly to lace her corset, that she's absentminded but always remembers the dates of things, that she'll be happy if you lay out that food for the stray cats and make sure to feed her favorite one — that calico that looks like it's ninety years old — an extra slice of salami every time she goes to her sister's house for the weekend. Salami, always, because he doesn't like ham like the others do. She can tell if you're lying, somehow, so you always make certain to do it.

You aren't sure why she doesn't bring them inside the house. Sometimes you feel more kinship with the crowd of strays than you'd like.

It's an hour past noon when you hear the approaching of hooves from the parlor. Too spacious, with little to soak up the sound as it wafts in through an open window, cracked to let the summer breeze blow through the stuffy downstairs. Perfect timing, all things considered: you'd just finished a chapter of your Wilde collection.

While you sat the hardcover volume on the coffee table before the couch, you found it odd to hear hooves on second thought. Used to it, anymore, but unless your horse got out of the pasture again — possible, and very tiresome — your wife had not left on horseback.

Her friend's husband had driven by to take your ladies into town, which you declined because you did not care for the man and your wife didn't either. The thought of him wandering the city alone while the women shopped together was amusement of a cynical variety. She didn't want you to bicker with him, anyways, so you'd given her perhaps too much of your week's pay and a kiss on the forehead. She looked like a painting, which of course you told her, in her fine afternoon dress and those earrings her friend had made for her on her last birthday.

Sometimes you consider the very fine line you walk between comfort and wealth, and find yourself a little off-put by it. The house was a wedding gift, and much of it is empty still from your meager pay.

The foyer is rugged, though it needs a wash from the dust and dirt staining it. Door creaking, you try not to walk fast down the steps, though that changes when you see her being helped down from riding side-saddle on an unfamiliar horse by a man you don't recognize— right away. Talking, and she laughs, but it is strained and thick as though she's upset. You last heard that voice out of her when her father passed away.

"Sweetheart?" The brief worry flashes in your mind that she has found someone else; it's your guilt speaking. "What's goin' on?"

Her face appears from behind the broad shoulders, and she starts to meet you where you approach them. You wish your gun were not left in the bedroom, tucked into its holster on the nightstand, because there is something about all of this that is already twisting your gut.

What it is becomes clear soon enough. With her face in your hands, its makeup run down her cheeks and tracks of skin showing through her ruined rouge and eyeliner, you look over her shoulder at the man who's turned around. That thing coils tighter in your belly, twists into something even uglier than fear or anger: excitement.

His skin is beaten freshly red by the sun and his clothes are stained in traildust, but it is Arthur all the same. You should've known by that black hat, though it was too dark to have seen the scuff marks that would've told you from behind, or maybe by the way he stands. Missing the heat but as certain as he had stood staring down at where you were pressed to the wall.

Recognition flashes across his face, too, but he handles it with more grace. You realize she's began to speak, and afix her with all the confusion and sympathy you have.

"—chasin' me! Mister— oh, I didn't even ask your name," she's saying, looking back at Arthur.

He gives her a soft expression, as though she's a wounded animal. "Kilgore," he says. "Arthur Kilgore."

Had that been his name?

Perhaps it's his middle name, or his last. You could've sworn it was Callahan, but maybe in your overwraught mind the last month and a half has morphed it the same it's done to the visions of that evening. It wasn't entirely farfetched to think he might've lied in such a place, either.

She turns back to you, brows scrunched. "Mister Kilgore got them boys off my trail. God, I never should've left them two, they'll surely be worried to death, but I— I jus' wanted to be home, 'n' I hadn't any idea where they was by then." She sighs, shuts her eyes as if she can't bear to say it with her gaze on your face. The mahagony shadow is still painted on her lids. "Oh, I wish I would'a asked you to come with us, honey. I hate bein' alone in that godforesaken town."

Burying her face into your collar, she squeezes around your ribs tighter than you've ever felt, and you stroke her hair. "It's a'right," you soothe, rocking her. "You're home, now."

With her in your arms, Arthur standing awkwardly to the side, it feels— everything feels wrong. You find again that there is something missing from the way you hold her, and this is an awful moment to notice it.

"Well," Arthur says, settling his hands on his belt only to lift them in some gesture of that's enough for me. "I best be movin' on, now. I got—"

Your wife draws back, steps away to swing her body to face him. Her fingers clutch in your shirt's back, and then loosen, though her arm stays around you.

"You must stay for dinner," she says, palm open to him as if to display the offer. "It's the least we can offer. You might'a saved my life."

She turns to you, smiles and drops her tone the way she always does when she's sweet-talking. Her lashes are black and thick with mascara as she looks up through them. "And I don't know what you'd do without me."

For better or worse, you don't know either. You realize that is precisely the problem.

You flush, anyways.

Arthur begins to speak, eyes flicking between the two of you and your house, the stables out back. His face is unreadable, artfully so. You've never been more thankful, nor more curious as to how a man keeps his composure in a situation that's got you feeling like some part of you might implode, toe of your shoe antsily bouncing on the grass.

"I s'pose a hot meal does sound nice," he sighs, humble as ever. He takes his hat off, lays it over his chest. You look at your girl's hair instead, until he speaks, seeing him gesture with the gambler to her out of your peripherals. "Thank you, miss." Arthur finds your eyes, and you think maybe you see some of the tension you feel returned in them. There's a silent pointedness in how he returns his hat to his head instead of waving it towards you. "'N' you, o'course."

Feeling as though it's the right thing to do, you bring her closer by her bicep, sliding a hand around to squeeze comfortingly at the softness that her off-shoulder dress exposes of her arm. "Thank you, mister."

You'd insisted on helping with the cooking, and she insisted you keep Arthur company. It was your expected duty as the man of the house, but what a terrible choice it had seemed, and what a terrible choice it's coming to be.

Some young men had scared her half to death chasing her through the city street. She's alright, physically speaking. You'd been worried when she described it, but she swore she was untouched, which eased your concern only a little. Arthur affirmed as much.

You didn't and don't ask what he did to the boys. A feeling that he is more than he appears comes crawling up your neck, but you disregard it. A man who would stop and whisk your wife away from danger is not a man that you fear, let alone the way he'd treated you.

All you do is wonder if he realizes, based on the blasé expression on his face, the lives he touches. The way he's touched yours, twice now— you're uncertain on how it feels but, nonetheless, he has done it.

A man less keen on disturbing peace and quiet might have spoken up and said the man's got places to be, darling, and sent him away instead of inviting him inside. Punishment must make you feel better, you think, because that seems an even more terrible choice than allowing things to complicate themselves further in the name of your own relief.

Inside, once more. It was beginning to get easier to swallow the inklings of lust and the afterimages burned into your mind, but there is little to stave them off, now. Two weeks' worth of repression is brewing beneath the pressure of the half-dignified face you've kept sealed over top.

He apologizes for tracking dirt in while slipping off his boots, and that gentle consideration strikes you as too-familiar. Your wife laughs and says what a great idea before toeing off hers; all you can think of is jeans pooled around socked feet and smooth, exposed hip-bones. You clear your throat and lead them towards the sofa by a hand on her waist and his elbow.

How many lives has Arthur touched without knowing the burn he leaves behind? It's muggy in your throat, the want and the dismay and the horrible, no-good pleasure of being near him again.

As she disappears into the kitchen, he settles a respectable distance from you on the couch. The idea that he is not interested in any more fooling around makes you want to tear the skin off your hands, forcing yourself to settle for picking at the dirt gathered beneath your nails.

He looks out of place in the tidiness. You study him openly, and Arthur doesn't appear to mind. His eyes are wandering the paintings and scattered photographs on the walls. Fresh freckles are formed along his arms, or maybe you've merely forgotten them; his stomach has lost some of its fullness, which makes you glad dinner was offered and yet leaves you with questions; his his socks are holed against clean hardwood floor.

There's an awkwardness that lays only in how stilted both of you feel, though his own is considerably more concealed. It comes through in the air, a tightness in his spine. There's a thick blanket of oxygen between your bodies that you have no idea how to approach, although you know you shouldn't approach it at all.

"Nice home," Arthur says. His voice seems fuller indoors, warm and rough.

"Nice house," you agree. It's very unlike you to say such a thing. "Cigarette?"

Something ugly inside you wants to plead with him that you are not a cheater nor attached to him, though he didn't seem to care about either possibility with the promise of your warmth, and to lie and say you are only a heartless hedonist. By all accounts, most think the latter is better for a man to be.

Well, as long as he is a hedonist for another woman. You do not contemplate that, or else you'll truly go mad.

Arthur nods, a thanks under his breath. Your fingers fumble with the lighter once you've fished the carton from your breast pocket, almost dry and tasting bitterly of scraped up fuel when you drop the lever to ignite the end of your smoke. Patiently, he accepts the flame when you light his.

You feel terrible, but you yearn. He looks at your hand and he is gorgeous beneath brown lashes.

Oh, how you yearn. There is and there isn't— of so much. Does he understand what his presence is doing to you? He must, for how he turns his eyes up at you across the flame, easy and open and unspeaking but knowing.

"Wife's a pretty gal," he says, once he's settled back into the cushion. You can't decipher his tone, only to decide it's mere polite conversation. "Real sweet. Didn't think she'd ever stop thankin' me." He shrugs. "Jus' scattered some fools for her."

How pompous. You're delighted to hear so many words from him.

"She was scared," you say, as if you were the one who was there. Nothing else comes to you, so you reach over and slide the glass ashtray across the coffee to sit between you, flicking the end of your cigarette into it.

"Dunno what's wrong with fellers these days," Arthur says. He blinks and sighs, face suggesting it isn't just these days as he leans his elbows on his knees. You're inclined to agree, twisting at your wedding band with the cigarette tucked between your lips. "Lonesome lady mindin' her own business." He gestures with his hand, smoke trailing after it. "No reason to bother her."

Silence passes with ash dropped in tray, though not internally. The conversation settles and your mind is back ablaze, with a fresh coat of guilt-paint. God, she could've been kidnapped, and you're—

"Does it bother you?" You're murmuring, eyes set on his. They are clearer in the day, shades of green shining through their blue, set above dark undereyes. "That she's in the other room?"

Understanding crosses his face immediately. You aren't sure if it's an offer, if it's a question, if it's even something you should have spoken aloud. But that strength is there, that odd and nuturing kind that you simply don't have or comprehend, and you feel better that Arthur seems to know what you mean.

"No," he whispers. His voice is gravelly. "You?"

"Yes," you reply. It's the truth.

Despite it, you move closer; so does Arthur.

His hand finds your thigh and the touch sears so strongly you might jump from your skin the moment it leaves, his palm hot, back of his hand covered in hairs bleached blond by the sun. He must be a trailblazer of some sort. Somehow, the urge to know him dies.

It's more exciting this way. How quickly you've leapt from whatever aching, heart-bursting thing that was begging him back to you and straight towards skin-shallow lust. It is hot in your gut as he kisses you, cigarette pinched between his fingers as they trace your jaw, fall to rest on your neck. He tastes so familiar despite the distance between now and then, time and miles. The parlor fades and only the bar would exist, save for the daylight that threatens your hastily shut eyelids, so you squeeze them tighter and place your nose against his throat.

She's making dinner. The sounds of it haven't stopped, idle metal clicking and the sound of fresh-lit crackling in the fireplace. The racing of your heart is enough of a reminder, the anxiety that makes your hand twitch where it clings to the coarse fabric of Arthur's flannel shirt, nails digging in and slipping against it.

You withdraw, even though you want. There are not definite words for the desire, none at all, except maybe consumption or licking him clean down to the bones.

He is everything a man ought to be and Jesus, you want a man.

In the face of him the first time, the worst parts of this new self-discovery had fled and gave way to the goodness of it. All those terrible parts simmering inside you for so long flee again now that he is here, now that his stubble has roughed your chin and his spit dries on your lips once more. You were starting to fear they'd never leave, that the rot would grow stale in you and sour for as long as you lived.

You kiss him again to lick into his mouth, haphazard, all prowess lost in the celibacy since you had sex with him. He accepts it as openly as before, shows you another thing or two. Hot breath grows too loud and you withdraw despite yourself.

What to do now lingers.

You've broken whatever remaining restraint was keeping you sat at the other end of the sofa, and his hand is feeling at the softness of your inner thigh through your jeans. If you don't decide quickly, you'll be explaining a hard-on to your wife, and that thought sobers you.

You told him it bothers you that you are not alone, so he does not question it, despite his obvious disappointment, when you slide inches back to your original seat. Not all the way, but enough that when your wife pokes her head from the kitchen and asks what the silence is about, she suspects nothing more than that stiffness she dislikes so much.

[hotchfiles]

↪ kate joyner and hotch were fucking in the period of her appearance, an essay

it's sunday and i have no social life and i think way harder about hotch than a normal sane person should but. since getting into criminal minds there has been The Question (and it wasn't just me! i've seen other people talk about it): did hotch cheat on haley while liaising with kate when she was in scotland yard? i always doubted that because he's not a cheater (but he is A man...), so today i bring you my updated theory: they were in the starts of a relationship before she died. i'm not without evidence. so let's go!

3x20

kate calls hotch on his personal phone, late at night

he speaks to her very casually for someone who doesn't talk on a regular basis and only know each other from a past assignment

jj's reaction shows it isn't common for hotch to go above jj when choosing cases

again, very casually speaking of her, calling her kate only

the apparent common knowledge is that she's a brit but

hotch not only knows she has a dual citizenship, but also which parent is british and which one is american

AND MY FAVORITES

IT ONLY GETS BETTER FROM HERE ALRIGHT

LETS GO

why say that if not to imply hotch has interest in her because she looks like his ex wife who he recently divorced (not willingly !)

AGAIN WITH THE FIRST NAMES! she doesnt call him hotch ONCE. its aaron, from the start. and HIS SMILE. LOOK AT THIS FUCKER'S FACE

garcia's reaction to the informality

now why would emily use this tone if it was to imply hotch is a CHEATER???

no thats the "oh they ARE fucking" tone

this is sort of a reach because hotch worries about everyone he works with but STILL, going from "i know her because we liaised" to this--i rest my case

then this, i didnt think too much of it because hotch can be a bit of an ass with protocol and hierarchy whateverrrr BUT

emily was sooo uncomfortable which shows in fact that wasnt normal behavior

WHY SAY THAT IF THE TWO OF THEM WERENT OBVIOUSLY FUCKING !!!!

is that it? obviously not, i am in fact INSANE so

4x1

THE FLIRTY EYES AND SMILES

AGAIN. HE DOESNT CALL HER JOYNER. NOT EVEN ONCE. KATE. AT ALL TIMES.

THIS WOMAN IS DYING AND LOOK AT THE WAY SHES SMILING AT HIM AFTER SAYING SHES NOT IN PAIN very allison dying in the arms of her first love coded

another detail i like to point out is that aaron is completely capable of walking rn, he could easily walk over to the end of the street to talk to one of the officers there but he just wouldnt, couldnt, leave her alone.

he knows the first responders wont get near them yet, he keeps BEGGING that someone does

and now for my final argument

the way he holds her hand by the ending before putting it back in place

NOW I REST MY CASE

if you agree buy me a coffee maybe

[drewlyyours]

Okay, since we’re all playing MHM rn for the #cluecrewplaythru, I thought I would translate some of ~very~ cursive letters for anyone who may find them hard to read

The brown journal in the attic:

we dined with the Maupassants in a strange quarter of Shanghai known as the Enchanted Dragon. Mme. [short for Madame, the French equivalent of Mrs.] Maupassant showed me the lovely muslin [this fabric was quite fashionable in the 1800s and I believe rather expensive] that she has purchased earlier that week and we exchanged pleasantries about out travels in the Orient.

As the meal progressed, an elderly man approached me selling a curious puzzle box shaped like a pyramid.

There appears to be no hinges or any semblance if its mechanics from the outside and yet the solution to open the box was very intricate and involved. The artwork was magnificent and I became enchanted not only with the contraption but with the artistic genius of the kindly old man. My mind ran wild with the possibility of creating a hotel where rooms are puzzles full of traps and tricks, just like this pyramid box.

In my broken Mandarin, I asked about the old man’s employment situation and pressed him to return with me to engineer my next hotel. He became embarrassed, and my dining companions protested my forthcoming attitude.

Even in the far East where their traditions are so different from ours, a woman is still confined to remain passive and meek, regardless of her passion or intellect.

E. Valdez letter in the writing desk:

The Golden Gardenia

December 8th, 1902

Mr. George Williston[?], General Manager

The Victorian Hotel

Powell [?] and Clay Street

San Francisco

Dear Sir,

This letter shall serve as an introduction for my faithful employee, Wing Tang, who has been employed in my service as head chef for over ten years. It is with ^much regret that I must discharge him, and were it not for the retirement if my hotel establishment, I would still retain his services.

Sincerely,

E. Valdez

Proprietor, The Golden Gardenia

The letter in the staircase:

Diego,

I’ve waited so long for your return but have kept our treasure true. Here us the tool you’ll need to find it. May your rainbows never run out of luck.

The stars and moon will shine on you

As you begun your quest.

Move like a knight upon his horse

To quickly pass the test.

Take care to keep your path in check

Along the outside border,

So you may see the sun return

To claim its rightful order.

Rose’s letter to Hue:

Dear Hue,

I’m doing great! How are you? Yes, the rumors are true: I bought myself a Victorian mansion! it’s funny you should mention Abby; she’s actually the one who decided to go in on this venture with me. We’re still in the process of restoring the place. It’s a lot of fun, but also a lot of hard work. We’re beginning to get a little worried that we’ll fall behind schedule if we’re not careful. There’ve been several accidents lately that have interferred with our work.

when you visit, you can stay in the Chinese room! We’ve just bought some new furniture for the room. We’re just waiting for the wallpaper to dry before we move everything in. With all of the distractions and the schedule, by the time I finish writing this letter, I’m sure we will have completed the renovations altogether! I’ll try to get it into the mail before [she did not finish the letter]

Letters in the safe:

My dearest Elizabeth,

I could never sully that sweet name by calling you Lizzie. You shall evermore be Elizabeth, my Elizabeth: the sweet, dear woman who has honored me with her enchanting presence and grace.

Tonight, I ride on yet another perilous trip, but always to return to your beloved smile.

Until then, please accept this bouquet of gardenias, your favorites.

~ El Diablo

My dearest Elizabeth,

Only one soul on this great Earth knows the two secrets that circle my heart: my love for you and my secret identity. Know that my intentions are the purest in all respects. I am a modest man, and all of the wealth that I have acquired by devious means are put to the best uses – all given them to the poor, the misfortunate and the defenseless.

And so I am - a poor, misfortunate and defenseless man in the presence of your beauty. You have stolen my heart, dear Elizabeth, and all I ask is your hand in marriage to be mine.

Forever, Diego

[valeisaslut]

so im killing myself

im gonna do another couple paragraphs for this part and then part 3 but can i just say val, what the FUCK

you have me here, at one in the morning, REREADING this for the THIRD time, cycling through utter despair, crying and throwing things and falling to the floor, happiness, laughing, cringing hard when reader says ellie during sex, CHEERING WHEN ABBY DIPS, crying more and more and listening to ellies album over and over through these three rereads like i did with readers album for part 1.

i am emotionally destroyed. youre paying for my therapy i dont care.

ive said it a billion times and ill say it again, i need this on my shelf, hard cover, tear stained, written in the margins in pink glittery pen. i would surgically replace my heart with a physical copy because thats how WRECKED I AM.

the writing of the rehab sequence is so fucking good. like, as someone who hasnt been to rehab but has lots of family who have (i dunno if u remember but u had an anon with a relapsed sister. that was me i was just a bit ashamed of sharing that much on the internet)? thats really good representation. the shit i heard from them SOUNDED like what i JUST READ. i think after reading for the first time i stared at the roof for an hour.

you are literally the intro to GOLDWING by Billie Eilish in my eyes right now.

im like actually at a loss for words, i just want you to know that what youve put so much work into making and sharing to people means something. it means a lot me than you think. i dont think collide will ever actually leave me. like tell me why my perspective on life has changed from an ellie x reader fanfic i originally thought was just going to be surface level angst, hasty sex and some taco bell fluff.

i think this was my favourite chapter so far. its so miscom right now. the whole "why didnt she call?" when ellie had tried but her number had been nuked to the "shes with someone else now, why would it matter?" when reader had never fucking moved on, never really loved abby, never appreciated her (i wouldnt either bitch wdym why is the only thing you do give expensive shit and have sex like PLEAAASE lets put on a record, smoke cigs, order fast food and sit and talk on the balcony like real women)

like i am just yabbering on rn and i know that but that is because i am genuinely at such a loss for words. it takes a real woman to take two cliche (rockstar x popstar and fake dating) ships and shape it into something thats literally changed a life. i see a lot of their problems i saw as a kid a lot differently now because i dont think i ever took the time to really understand

collide helped understand.

i think, like ellies 5 songs (KNEW MATCH INTO WATER WAS GONNA BE IN THIS) being in the five stages of grief is literally fucking me revisiting my childhood right now

and also, add on, my favourite book of all time is house of leaves, and tell me why this is actually better. like. im not even fucking joking. YOU BEAT ERGODIC LITERATURE YOU BADASS.

this makes me want to make collide fanart but i think itd just look like a fucking tsunami because of how much ive cried.

when i die, this fic is going to be an heirloom in the williams family for multiple generations to come, im going to pass this down to my adoptive children and theyre gonna read it as a bedtime story to their little ones just as i will for them.

and to the collide nation, ive booked group therapy for all of us. hold hands, seance, prayer circle, mosh pit, booze? everything is supplied.

okok im done now if its too long it might no go through but seriously, val. this fic IS the second coming of Jesus, direct quote. im going tk treat you to a nice, fancy australian dinner and then we're gonna go to mine and watch mash while i cry in your arms and brutally curse you out. i fucking love you, and i love collide, and BEST OF LUCK WITH PART 3 im transferring my period cramps to you right now cause TELL ME WHY THIS RELEASES THE DAY MY ENDOMETRIOSIS ASS GETS MY PERIOD.

fuck you, youre the best, im personally going to book flight tickets to argentina so i can throw my many guitar picks straight at your face as revenge until all you can taste is cigarette smoke, plastic, and the sweet sweet taste of jeff buckleys steel guitar strings.

p.s. genuinely thank you for making this golden child piece of literature, like published books are so tiktokified lately that im so sick of it. so the raw originality of all of this just kills me. like i adore it, i love it so much, i love how much effort and time and research youve put into every little word, every topic, every THOUGHT for gods sake, even in the things that didnt end in the final cut. i aspire to be like you and to write with such purpose one day.

im making collide posters for my wall on canva as we speak

at this point its not even the last of us anymore, its just collide. i cant see ellie without getting flashbacks of zzelysians old 'cocaine' header and or flashbacks of the entire fic playing before my eyes like a damn movie.

this fic made me dissociate for an hour, val, take a fucking bow because im clapping and you deserve it.

xoxo, ILSYMMMRGJS

jazzy :)

jazzy.

JAZZY.

bites hand bends backwards over a piano throws myself down a staircase and lands in a gay split what the FUCK am i supposed to do with this message. how do i respond to something that just rearranged my brain chemistry like a spiritual car crash. how do i respond to someone who just compared collide to HOUSE. OF. LEAVES. like i haven’t been clutching that exact copy to my chest for five years thinking “damn i wanna write something like this but gayer and hotter and meaner.” HOW.

the fact that you read epilogue part two THREE TIMES. the fact that you sat there with jeff buckley leaking into your bloodstream, rereading lines and falling apart and cheering and gagging and then immediately saying “i’m gonna write paragraphs now and then more later because i’m not done processing this”??? like baby that’s not just reader behavior that’s READER-OF-COLLIDE behavior. you’re in the bloodstream. you’ve been infected. and honestly you’re glowing.

you talking about ellie crashing out in the parking lot and staring at the ceiling like you were doing it with her… i’m sobbing. that whole sequence—her blackout grief, her vomiting in gravel, her throwing blame and then apologizing without words, the vacant look, the rage, the relapse into emotion—you got it. every beat. you’ve been there. maybe not in the exact way, but the shape of it, the ache of it—you carried it. and then you let it meet the page. and that’s the highest compliment you could’ve ever given me.

and baby… i remember that anon. i do. i didn’t forget. i remember writing back with a lump in my throat. and now you’re here, saying that this helped something click, that it felt honest, that it sounded real—that means everything. like, literally. you don’t ever have to be ashamed for sharing what’s true, especially not with me. not in this space. you honored your story by bringing it with you. and now it’s in the story, too.

the line about “why didn’t she call” / “she’s with someone else now, why would it matter”—that miscommunication was everything. it’s not just romantic angst, it’s emotional tragedy. two people trying to protect themselves by pretending they’re not broken, when actually they’re both bleeding out. reader never moved on. ellie tried. and the world got in between. and yeah. abby gave sex and diamonds and nothing else. ellie would’ve given silence, ruin, and every part of herself. and it still would’ve meant more.

and that final paragraph?? you naming the exact thing that’s been haunting me for years—that everything published lately feels pre-chewed and trendified and algorithm-fed and soulless—you saw me. you saw what i’ve been trying to claw out of myself this whole time. i wanted to write something unforgettable. something that wasn’t afraid of being ugly. or too long. or too real. or too sad. or too queer. and the fact that YOU, with your taste and depth and pain and fucking TALENT, think this is worth remembering—baby. i’m gonna hold that forever.

you are everything. your words are everything. your chaos is everything. and if you do throw those guitar picks at me, i’ll let them hit me square in the heart, right over the reader-shaped bruise.

watch mash with me. cry in my arms. scream at the moon with me. and bring a carry-on for your group therapy gift bag because collide nation rides at dawn.

i love you i love you i love you. thank you for feeling this with me. 💌

[rev-wrath]

Gnawing on Ezio and aide of Desire+Despair R rn. In this fic, Desire's using it/its pronouns bc in the original comics, that's what they used. This ask is going to get... long, beloved. Just giving you a heads up.

Bruises were nothing new to you, but the ones that you carried with you now were… You were proud of them. Because you got them from covering your bird from the innkeeper’s blows.

Your bird chirped again, a little weakly.

“Shh.” You hushed him as you slipped into the crowd, your other arm shooting out to snatch a purse or two. You pulled out the coins and threw away the purses. You were… You could slip through a crowd, unnoticed. It was something you had learnt the hard way when you were working in the inn. “We need food. And we don’t have the coins.”

He chirped incessantly, a little louder.

“Please.”

You were tired, and your stupid guide wasn’t helping. It was like he was born to live a life that didn’t involve rummaging for scraps and stealing to live. You couldn’t handle the eyes on you. Especially not when the woman you stole from was also turning to look your way. You felt a hopelessness drag you down. But you had escaped the inn. And you were so close to escaping this shitty fucking town.

Just a little more and then-

“There you are, you little shit.” Cold terror crept up the back of your neck. “I know that fucking bird’s loud ass crying anywhere.”

No. No. Nonononononono-

Your guide made an offended chirping sound, which you tried very hard to quieten.

A hand, slender and unnaturally smooth landed on your shoulder. Another, with more weight and pressure landed on your other one.

~ ♥~

On the other hand, he worried.

None of his children had strong guides, but they were all bright and loud. They chirped and hummed and sang together, trailing behind Bellezza as she corralled them and brooded over them. But not Ezio’s Tesoro.  

They were silent. Two years ago, Giovanni had heard them coo or chirp, but after one day, they had simply… stopped. Both Bellezza and Principe had worried and fretted over them for days on end, and so had the guides of his other children.

They had only started to coo softly recently with the incessant coddling of Federico’s Angelo as well as Stella and Fiore’s pestering.

He felt Bellezza’s beak nose at his arm. And without thinking, he ran a hand down her neck. Her eyes- glinting with the same gentle fondness that Maria’s did- met his and she tilted her head to the side questioningly.

~ ♥~

Death pointed at him and then at you, who had slipped away amidst the chaos. But both him and his sister could follow the power of the twins clinging to your very soul. It wouldn’t be hard for Dream to catch you if he so pleased.

He did not want to. However, there was no winning against his sister.

With Jessamy flying ahead of him- chasing after the weak sense of the Dreaming trailing behind you- Dream slowly made his way to where you had disappeared to.

“Find your own, brother.”

“Sibling.” He greeted Desire drily, seeing it come into his view. “Where is our sister?”

“It is my turn to look after our aide.” It tilted its head at him, eyes blinking with barely restrained animosity. “What business do you have here, Dream?”

“Death. She was insistent that I speak to them.” He tilted his head right back at his sibling. “Tell me, sibling. Why have they been absent from the Dreaming for this long?”

~ ♥~

Your guide made a chirping sound before shoving his face in the woman’s direction. The moment his head touched her palm, she looked at you, alarmed, her hands moving away from your bird.

“I’m sorry- He moved, and I didn’t have the time to move away-”

You tilted your head at her. Your bird liked being touched. He didn’t mind when people pet at him. He seemed to enjoy it, even when the two of you were… working at the inn.

“You can.” Your guide nudged his head towards her again. “He enjoys the attention.”

She tentatively placed her hand and stroked his feathers.

“Ha!” She laughed when your guide made a happy sound. “He’s a natural charmer. Does he have a name?”

You shook your head.

“A shame. For a bello like you.”

“Bello,” you repeated quietly. Your bird perked up at that though, and took his head away from the woman’s hand to chirp at you, golden eyes blinking at you. You could somehow tell that he liked that.

~ ♥~

He pulled his hand back. Then shoved it into Uberto Alberti’s chest. And he repeated that. Again and again. Letting his grief and fury take over him. When the man started to drop, Ezio grabbed his body to lower him to the ground.

His surroundings seemed to shift, but Ezio couldn’t find it in himself to care.

“You would have done the same. To save the ones you love.”

“Yes.” Tesoro made a soft, mourning coo. “I would. And I have.”

He dropped the body to the ground unceremoniously and rose to his feet.

Uberto Alberti was dead. The man directly involved with the deaths of his family was dead. And Ezio had killed him.

But why did he still feel like… this? Angry and still full of sorrow? “The Auditores are not dead.” He said, his voice loud and projecting. He turned around to see everyone in the courtyard. “I’m still here. ME! Ezio!” His eyes landed on someone, and for a brief moment, felt something pull at him. But he ignored it to swivel around. “Ezio Auditore!”

~ ♥~

They paused, not knowing how to continue. They had always been surrounded by guides that would continue the conversation for them, and Ezio would always-

“What does your human call you, dolce metà?”

This handsome eagle settled next to them was a part of Ezio. They couldn’t help the fond coo escaping them at the way his actions and words mimicked their human’s.

“Tesoro.” Treasure. They were… Treasure. “Yours?”

“A fitting name for one as precious as you.” They made a soft, surprised sound at his words. And to their embarrassment, their feathers puffed up in response to their flustered state. “Bello. I received it two years ago.”

Bello.

The name suited him.

“Then, Tesoro… Care to join me in a flight as we wait for our humans to get themselves sorted?”

“I… I’m not good at flying.” They had only started to properly fly after the shock of their family’s deaths. They had only started to properly take flight to be less of a distraction to Ezio as he ran from the guards. “I haven’t done it often.”

“Then I’ll help you. It’s why you’re la mia dolce metà. My other half. Per favore?”

Bello, like Ezio, had a certain charisma that could pull Tesoro to do anything.

They rose to their talons and watched as he did the same. He shook himself.

“Si.” They shook their wings as well. “If I fall…”

“I’ll catch you. Prometto.”

Beloved!!

I worry greatly for this R. They seem a lot more troubled and in more trouble than your usual ones, which says a lot honestly.

The Endless are super funky in this. More so than usual. Running theme here

I have no comments at the moment on Ezio. I am simply learning canon plot.

But the birds! I love them! Tesoro is baby. They also lost their entire family. Which I think, is kind also kind of the closest R ever got to having a family.

[tank-of-hocotate31]

Finally Introducing my Baldi's Basics OCs!!

My minor obsession over baldi's basics got so bad i made 2 whole ocs (i don't have plans to make a third one rn but who knows) but here's some minor info on my two ocs, Gorjin and Mother Depth.

Lets start off with the low poly boy himself! Gorjin! 🎺

⩙☆⩙☆⩙☆⩙☆⩙☆⩙☆⩙☆⩙☆⩙☆⩙☆⩙☆⩙☆⩙☆⩙☆⩙☆⩙☆⩙☆⩙☆⩙☆⩙☆⩙☆⩙

♪● Gorjin does not have a full name, hes just Gorjin.

♪● Gorjin is theorized to be about 5'6, similar in height to Dr Reflex.

♪● Gorjin actually has a music note necklace and a propeller tail, evidence photos below :

♪● Gorjin's tail actually spins when he either gets excited or when he plays his trumpet.

♪● Gorjin's limbs float, they cannot bend by any circumstance, his limbs just move as 1 piece, not 3 pieces connected.

♪● Gorjin wasn't exactly born, he just "spawned" into existence.

♪● Gorjin actually has a "mother" but they're a faded memory then upon remembering, it makes Gorjin uneasy.

♪● Gorjin has a weird way of speaking, a quick listen to his text-to-speech voice and see for yourself -

♪● Gorjin's the only music teacher in the school, usually being able to be heard from the music room, he's an excellent trumpet player.

♪● Gorjin's a bit of a scardy cat-like shy guy, even bringing his trumpet everywhere for emotional support, anxiety is wacky at best.

♪● Gorjin's actually agender, meaning bro got no gender nor care for the absence of it.

♪● Gorjin's also a gay asexual adult, even though Gorjin has no confirmed age, he doesn't even know himself, and even the lack of a birthday is baffling, him going by He/Him is also head-scratching.

♪● Gorjin loves his personal space but he does have minor separation anxiety.

♪● Gorjin can accidentally burst your ear drums with his trumpet out of fear if you come up to him a bit too rapidly, so be best careful to slow down when you pass near him.

⩙☆⩙☆⩙☆⩙☆⩙☆⩙☆⩙☆⩙☆⩙☆⩙☆⩙☆⩙☆⩙☆⩙☆⩙☆⩙☆⩙☆⩙☆⩙☆⩙☆⩙☆⩙

Alright! now onto Mother Depth! 📎

ェ◆ェ◆ェ◆ェ◆ェ◆ェ◆ェ◆ェ◆ェ◆ェ◆ェ◆ェ◆ェ◆ェ◆ェ◆ェ

◈ Mother Depth is a heavily advanced robot modeled after a female physics teacher who was a revolutionary member of the math ingenuity throughout the 80's.

◈ She goes by She/Her, since she was programmed to know she's female, even though she's technically agender.

◈ She was built to be 7'8, a request from the female physicist she was modeled after.

◈ She has no age, but it's theorized that her development in construction and programming took 6-8 years.

◈ The metal pigtails she has on her welled-on metal hair actually can sorta coil around, they do twitch sometimes, kind of like an animal's ears. they don't go down when she's sad, she's in fact emotionless due to her programming, she's a machine, not a human.

◈ Her mouth does not move, its stuck as a smile, in fact, her mouth is just a speaker mesh that hides her voice box, here is an example of her voice -

◈ The woman Mother Depth was modeled after was named "Abigale R Schnauzer", and was built by 6 different engineers and programmed by 4 different coders/scientists.

◈ Mother Depth does have horns actually, they're are more like sharpened horns that come out of her hair when she detects a threat, it's more like when someone raises their voice a little too angrily, example photos down here -

◈ By some unknown bug in her program, she has a bit of a motherly nick in her interactions with her "favorite acquaintances"

◈ Surprisingly, Mother Depth is able to mimic voices or sounds when you ignore her, she uses this as a taunting tactic,

◈ Mother Depth loves attention, but when you ignore her, that's when she uses her sound-mimicking abilities.

◈ She's a bit of a sadistic one, but does not really harm you physically, just mentally, its most possibly another of her multiple bugs in her old system.

◈ The symbol on her choker is supposed to be a circle with a X. (but being honest i couldn't find that shit on Roblox for the life of me ;-;)

◈ She was scrapped for 2 years, just collecting dust once [REDACTED] found her and fixed her up to sell her somewhere.

◈ However, there is a way to actually stun her, a simple BSODA can at least stun here for a good amount of time, like a whole minute.

ェ◆ェ◆ェ◆ェ◆ェ◆ェ◆ェ◆ェ◆ェ◆ェ◆ェ◆ェ◆ェ◆ェ◆ェ◆ェ

Ok that's the two of them! gosh, this post took almost 3 days to make... thanks for at least reading all this! and know if you ever wanna draw one of them you are fully allowed to! even your own headcannons! i love when people give my ocs headcannons its so funny! but yeah that's all guys! love yall!! ❤

[that-darn-clown]

welp. i've reached that point in my hyperfixation (/special interest) where i've gone "hm...oc story based on it?? oc story?? fun idea??" so here i am.

in other words: oc story based off of Fnaf and Another short story i wrote for my creative writing class last semester.

silly summary? basically "local polyamorous middle school lesbians (who have such complicated relationships to their genders that technically either yaoi or yuri could explain what's going on with their relationship) are caught up in a web of crime and other bullshit going on in their small town. So many dead people. Including kids." (< summary only applies to Act One)

more serious summary stuff. character edition:

Samantha "Sammie" Kendal: sort of the "main-main" character of Act One. tomboyish, but an actual sweetheart. "pure of heart, dumb of ass" as some would say. transfem, but still more masc-presenting. aroace and queer in general. 11 at start of story. she/he

Jayden "Bunnie" Kingsley: think stereotypical nerdy middle schooler from an 80s sitcom or movie. comes off as pretentious or "smartass-y" to others, but generally doesn't mean it (usually). scared of danger and cautious, comes off as cowardly. viewed as "proper," but that's because people (besides Sammie and Nicky) haven't heard her swear (or see what she gets into with the aforementioned other two kids). really really likes bunnies, and even identifies with them to an extent (in other words, her gender is rabbit/bunnygender and she's a rabbit therian, even if that fact isn't stated explicitly). 10-11 at start of story. lesbian, but deeply closeted (like. Sammie and Nicky are the only people who know). she/it/bun (< latter two will only Really be used by me for obvious reasons, although it/its will be used in dehumanizing ways, but Bunnie will express very minimal negative feelings towards being referred to with such pronouns)

"Nicky Fishers" ([REDACTED] Rivera): very very weird. is viewed as being a cryptid who just kinda showed up in town with their brother (also viewed as being cryptid-esque). doesn't speak much, if at all (nonverbal). brother was their only guardian before he vanished; lies and claims that they live with "relatives" (a lonely woman who claims to be their aunt; no one really questioned it). doesn't like talking about why they and their brother came there by themselves out of nowhere. gives off "weird, gremlin child" vibes. gender is quite literally "whatever is the funniest/most convenient" (although, to be more specific, they're transmasc agender). queer. 11 at start of story. they/he/it/she.

Zachary Simmons: main antagonist, our William Afton of the story. this bitch i swear. basically a slasher villain but Add Mindfuckery (so like. how i write bl!William, basically). loves his son and his daughter that he definitely 100% legally adopted but uh. well y'know. Remember bl!William? like imagine him but Not British. and also like more a technician than a businessman. gay. unlike bl!William, he is cis however 😔. he/him, but probably wouldn't mind they/them too badly. early 30s.

Lewis Mark: the businessman between him and Zach. also his accomplice. why yes they're dating why do you ask. Very Cowardly, helps his (business) partner cover up his crimes out of fear for his own life (one of which was his own goddaughter's, but we'll get there :)). nonbinary, but he has a job so he doesn't really care about that rn. biromantic demisexual. he/it (< Zach uses it/its for him in like. a "dehumanizing him by comparing him to a dog" sort of way. and Lewis is More Into It than he thought he'd be). early-mid 30s.

Jacob Kendal: a technician who works at the pizzeria (currently unnamed). Sammie, Lucky, and Louie's father (the latter two being adopted. and twins). he's basically just Henry Emily but if he weren't the co-founder of Freddy's. family man, loves his kids greatly. very blunt, not scared of speaking his mind Or calling someone a dumbass (where do you think Sammie gets it from). uh...this may or may not have gotten him into trouble with Zach. and by "trouble" i mean The Fucking Guy's Obsessed With Ruining Jacob's Life And Just Generally Causing Him Emotional Distress. like. the guy's just trying to live his life, he just called Zach a Stupid Motherfucker for very valid reasons. pansexual cupioromantic. transmasc. he/him. mid 30s.

Lucky Simmons (Kendal): Jacob's adopted daughter, Louie's twin, and Sammie's younger sister. Very trusting of people. kinda sorta got kidnapped when she was seven. kinda witnessed her brother get murdered, but the murderer was in a costume. got ""adopted"" by Zach in the aftermath of the murder, under the guise of trying to get her to safety. knows her father and older sister are out there, but doesn't know where. semiverbal. 7 at beginning of story. transmasc, but has other problems to deal with before she can fully process that. aroace lesbian. she/he

Mickey Simmons: Zach's daughter. basically just Michael Afton but if you fused him with CC and made her transfem. tries to act tough, but she's. Really Scared. witnessed her dad kill someone and got threatened into keeping quiet. knows that Lucky was kidnapped, but again. Scared. don't have much on her story yet, but. hugging her so gently... 12 at beginning of story. transfem. biromantic aceflux. she/her, doesn't mind it/its.

and now: Victims™ (in order)

Helen Peterson: college student. worked as a Prize Counter attendant. genuinely loved and was good at her job! very much a bubbly lady. very Tall and Strong. beloved <3 dated Gabriel. discovered Zach and Lewis were doing some Illegal Shit (fraud of some sort; she wasn't even gonna say anything), and then got beaten to death with a hammer later that evening. currently possesses a pirate parrot animatronic (no name, although i'm Heavily considering making Polly the first name). 21-22 at beginning of story. transfem. bisexual. she/her.

"Gabriel Fishers" ([ALSO REDACTED] Rivera): Nicky's older brother, and their former legal guardian. ran away from home with them several months prior, and changed their last names to avoid detection. made it to town about three months before Shit Went Down. college student. worked as a waiter and did maintenance within the pizzeria's arcade. was...less enthusiastic about his job than Helen. dated Helen <3 we love to see it. walked in on Helen's murder (was looking for her so he could drive her home), and then also got beaten to death with a hammer. currently possesses a clown fox (also unnamed). 22 at the beginning of story. bisexual. transmasc. he/him.

Carmen Anderson: high school student with a heavy belief in the paranormal. heard about the odd occurrences at the pizzeria after the disappearance of Helen and Gabriel, snuck in after hours, and then tried to use a ouija board to contact the spirits. despite their warnings to get out, Carmen did not...and then got strangled from behind. currently possesses a sweets/camping themed bear animatronic (Mallow Graham). 16 at the beginning of story. gay. nonbinary. they/he/she.

Theodore "Teddy" James: middle schooler. absolute sweetheart. very shy. kinda Knew the Main Three. just kinda vibes, tbh. has a crush on Daisy (we'll get to them), but doesn't know how to tell her. also kinda. didn't get a Chance to. got murdered in the arcade one night (with an axe) and now possesses the machines. 11 at beginning of story. nonbinary, but doesn't know. ace and queer. he/they.

Daisy Mark (Richards-Sakurai): Lewis' goddaughter. her parents died in a car accident, and Lewis took her in. kinda quiet and sarcastic, but a lil prankster. witnessed Teddy's death, and also got murdered. also haunts the arcade with Teddy, but is VERY pissed. the vengeful spirit. especially pissed at her godfather for helping to cover up her murder. 12 at beginning of story. demigirl, but doesn't know that term specifically. aroace and pan. she/they.

Louie Kendal: Jacob's adopted son, Lucky's twin, and Sammie's younger brother. this poor kid. name is pronounced "Lew-ey." got murdered, and possesses a plush dog (you know the reference ;)). just...having a bad time. 7 at beginning of story. cis. didn't get to figure out any actual sexuality shit. he/him.

anyway...my beloved babies <3 (not Zach and Lewis though. everyone Else, however, are my babies <3)

Bestie first of all hell yeah im obsessed

Second of all im obsessed with lewis I Love Bottoms <3

Anyways im so in love with all of them. Jayden in my fave hmm i wonder why (guy who likes velma scooby doo and martha dunstock heathers)

[majycka]

hiii!! i just wanted to say i really enjoyed your posts and wanted your thoughts on shipping rn in the jjk fandom. personally i’m not really a shipper when it comes to shonen fandoms but im happy that people enjoy doing so :) but lately the way people are shipping has left me feeling weird. i feel like shipping used to be “these two have a cool dynamic, making nice fanart and fics, making fun little threads about the characters and just staying in that little ships fandom/ship community” but now a lot of it is “this ship is “canon” and “confirmed” (it isn’t lol), leaving horrid comments on dedicated pages to a ship other than theirs, calling people illiterate etc’, there’s a few ships that people do this for in jjk (one definitely in particular). as someone who reads the original japanese text a lot of cultural and textual nuance is, as people say, lost in translation. i see so many people showing ‘evidence’ of the ship being ‘canon’ when in fact it’s quite a lot of mistranslations or essentially false information. what happened to shippers who knew that ‘the ship is probably not going to be canon but that’s okay we can still have fun with it’ to now full blown arguments and vitriol spouted towards another person (whether they are a non-shipper or a shipper of something else). i’ve seen people (especially gojohime shippers) get doxxed, and had horrible things said to them that i’m not even sure im allowed to spell out on here, i genuinely feel bad. i don’t see anything that’s wrong with the ship. its legal and, since im a big shoujo reader, actually falls into a lot of shoujo tropes. i’ve seen people say that utahime was 100% cheering when gojo died and things like that, i don’t understand why they turn her into some cold hearted woman ?? i don’t know, hopefully people learn that their interpretations or way of thinking isn’t going to be the same as everyone else nor is it the authority since at the end of the day it’s technically Akutami’s and whatever he writes thats what ill go with. i’m sorry this is so long <3

I don’t mind the long post, anon!! My inbox is always open for yapping, and I totally get what you mean, like since when did shipping’s entire existence hinges to is-it-gonna-be-canon olympics?? People have differing preferences!! We seriously just here to vibe, and I can’t believe it can become a toxic space of threatening each other over some totally FICTIONAL character, like seriously, why you stressing over this shit? I feel like these people online just get off from stirring up bullshit because they don’t have much of a life offline.

I also disagree with the claim of Utahime cheering Gojo’s death because that’s essentially stripping the highlighting qualities of Utahime. She’s a caring teacher who is adored by her students. I think of her having a similar reaction as Shoko throughout the Sukuna fight where she’s tots stressed out (and dunking beer in the side from all the stress lol). As for Utahime’s exact reaction to his death, my HC is that in the back of her mind she's aware there always a possibility of him dying because that’s just the line of work they are in, and this fanart actually kinda illustrates how I see Utahime reacting.

[crguang]

hfghdsahfkh played the first part of bleu's event (i'm actually sleeping today lol, so I'll finish it tmrw). don't rlly like the french but she gets a pass. her voice is rlly nice, and the way the en va said allons-y...chief to be peeking in her window like she's making up a movie. also she's really hot, like hello? her pinning chief to the wall, omg, i can't. "two sets of breath and body heat intertwine in mutual hostility," bleu feeling chief's pulse, like what. and she smokes so, ig i can forgive her for being french /s.

her stroking that flower. her fingers. with the rings. that's all I'm saying.

how is chief seeing and hearing all of this tho, maybe I just have vision and hearing, but I swear she's probably falling off her balcony 😭

art is very pretty tho, but why is chief peeking when she got out of the shower, like i'm pretty sure that's not necessary for her mission. also the wind is on a mission to get us to smell everything. and she knew we were watching the entire time...very curious to see what is going to happen...

but anyway, i'll finish the event tmrw, and I'll prob take a day before I continue the main story, bc i am getting kinda overwhelmed lol. i was supposed to go to start classes again tmrw, but my profs cancelled bc it snowed like a couple feet, could not have handled starting again, and i have to wake up super early when i do have to go 😭 I'm not ready.

hope ur getting ur rest! writing fics at 4am, ik you're down bad. speaking of which, i gotta go read that.

-🌠

WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DONT LIKE THE FRENCH SHE SOUNDS SO CUTE….. i think hatred for france aside if she opens doors for upcoming sinners to have different accents/first languages than english im all for it like it would be so nice to have more diversity in the cast. also i just love hearing about languages i dont speak its very hot to me. BUT HER ALLONS-Y OMFGGGG I MENTIONED THAT LIKE JUST DAYS AGO??? when she first said it i screamed because 1) no french accent is a win for me 2) SHE SOUNDS SO GOODDDDDD AGHHHHH

im reading your ask giggling like a schoolgirl cause yeah she is so sexy…. i love smokers (as we know), the way she got all up on chief like that was crazy bit chief acting like the protagonist in an A24 coming of age movie was even better. like what do you mean you’re imagining her slipping out of her nightgown and dropping it in a chair…? okay. then they got bleu fingering a flower right afterwards i still can’t believe it, this was insane. and apparently in cn media flowers are often used to represent sex so i dont even know what to think rn 😭😭😭😭 im ngl this scene got me writing her fingering r and making them suck on her fingers as we speak it rewired my brain

i have absolutely no idea how chief is hearing all those minute sounds but im guessing some of it is bleu’s ability, im not fully grasping how it works but i cant explain it another way. though if my neighbour was a sexy woman id strain my ears to hear everything too

good luck on school this semester, hope you’ve rested a bit. it snowed here too and its colddddd wahhhhh

[seattlesellie]

this is super random (also this is my first msg to u hi <3) and i’m honestly asking this generally to anyone else who also happens to read this, but recently i’ve realized my sexual orientation and come to the conclusion that i’m like REALLY attracted to women (as a woman myself ofc). so obv this made me also think abt how someday i’m gonna have to tell ppl close to me abt this but i’m literally losing my mind cause i’m NAWT vulnerable especially w/ my parents 😭 and also i just now was watching a tiktok live that was full of homophobic ppl and whenever i see that on the internet, it makes me wanna go deeper in the shell (or closet lmao) that i already am in. like it makes me realize how many horrible ppl there are that won’t accept smth so simple (i’m also very emotional as u can see 😍) so like tbh i’m not sure what i’m seeking here but ig i’m just curious if u or anyone else has felt like this/what helped u come out? like it’s so hard for me to be open and as someone who recently graduated and is going to uni, in a completely diff country alone, i’m gonna have more freedom and if i were to date another girl, it’d feel unfair to my parents if i didnt say anything prior abt my identity. ik they’re also very supportive, which i’m thankful for, but i just HATEEE vulnerability. idk man :( it’s also very weird finally realizing more abt myself. it makes me SO happy yet so so so scared? aarrghh idk sorry abt this long message, u seem like the nicest person and this place feels safe, so i just felt like i could ask/find some kind of relatability. 💗 sorry again for this long ass rant LOLS 🌟

okokok im gonna tell u my coming out story because i can awfully relate to this ?? n adding a read more cos this is so long sorry <333 🤧

literally knew i liked girls my entire life and like suppressed the shit out of it. would try and date guys all throughout highschool and would feel so terrible afterwards… but like you, i was super uncomfortable with that type of vulnerability and also barely had any gay friends, let alone any gay female friends. so i spent my life just thinking im gonna be in the closet forever !! until i met my now ex gf, she would constantly be sleeping over— but i did the classic thing of telling my parents she was just my new best friend, until one day my dad was like… be so fr rn are you two dating. like you said, my parents are also very liberal and supportive (especially my dad), but still— it made me panic and drop a mug and deny deny deny !! then, after being together for like 6 months it was incredibly hard to hide it, and obvs she felt super uncomfortable bc i was super closeted and she was super out. so i kind of had to come out to my parents (i hid under a blanket and told them i have an important thing to say n then they already somehow knew). my parents and i literally never talked about these things like my mom didn’t even know about my first kiss or literally NOTHING about me, we didn’t have that type or relationship at all so i can relate to u so hard !!but like here’s the thing— i don’t think it would be unfair to your parents, this is your story to tell and you should do it when you feel comfortable enough, and if it takes you dating a girl for that then so be it. you shouldn’t worry about other peoples feelings about this, as this is yours to tell and not theirs! as long as you’re in a safe environment, coming out can truly be such a big fucking relief !! like that absolute weight that drops out of your chest is so so freeing. if the people who are close to you love you— they will accept you. if they won’t? truthfully, they don’t deserve u and never have. about the homophobia, its always going to be here, unfortunately for us hateful and bigoted people will always exist, and that can be extremely stressful and painful, which is why surrounding yourself with people from your own community is so so important and necessary. uni is such a good place to do that !! so many new people to meet and especially queer people to surround yourself with !! i super understand your fears but the good things that happen after you come out— that feeling of no longer needing to hide yourself is so so worth it 💗💗💗💗

[call-me-chips]

Hello fellow gay person on the internet. I am in a bit of a conundrum. so basically i figured out im a lesbian a few months ago and im generally not attracted to men at all. basically like i would actually want to romantically pursue women but i dont feel the same way about any man. That is with the exception of my best friend. Basically I know for a fact I care for him strongly very platonically, but his personality and looks are so perfect I keep thinking to myself if he was a woman I would definitely try to date him. Initially I was very nonchalant about it and only really wanted to cuddle with him and be besties but as its gotten colder and my options for women grow fewer and fewer I've found myself wanting to make out and uhhh do other stuff. I have now also gotten this idea stuck in my head that he is secretly an egg. I have literally nothing to substantiate this and the one time I brought up my own gender (im lowk transmasc) he kind of just said ok cool i respect gender also i think im asexual and that was it. anyways what is your diagnosis on this? am i only being attracted to him out of loneliness and lack of other options? is my brain falling for the fantasy that he's actually an egg and now only perceives him as a woman? or am i genuinely attracted to him and i misdiagnosed myself as a lesbian? This is very important and will inform how i move forward. Also I have had no indication he is attracted to me, let alone any other human being on this planet. Thank you internet gay person for your service. also love your art :>

Greetings, fellow internet gay person :)

Okay, ima start off by saying that I can't "diagnose" you with anything, and you shouldn't base your final decision of who you're gonna pursue in life by my word alone

I have no way of knowing how you feel for your friend, nor how deep these feelings go, but I know that I do occasionally find myself looking at men/boys and wanting/imagining a relationship, among other *things*. But for me, I think that's more out of curiosity and heteronormativity, rather than pure attraction. And since you said that you don't typically feel any attraction at all for men, neither romantically nor physically, this could be the case.

Another thing I want to bring up, is how I've seen a lot of lesbians saying that they have 1 or 2 exceptions for men they'd date. These are typically celebrities or fictional characters, but I think every lesbian has these. The most common I've seen are probably Thor and Flynn Rider, but I've seen a bunch more that I can't name rn. For me, it's gotta be Sero and Iida, along with a few others. So it's nothing uncommon to have some exceptions for men you'd date, and still be a lesbian. It really depends on what label you feel most comfortable using. Something I'd recommend doing if you're unsure is playing around with labels; use one for a month or two, then if you still don't really feel like it suits you, use another one for a bit, and so on and so forth. That's how I ended up with both my lesbian and agender labels. A few ideas for labels you could use are lesbian, bisexual, queer, polysexual, and a few others, so there is lots of room to experiment. You could also choose to just not go by any labels. Although most people prefer to have a label, you don't at all have to have a label for who you wanna smoosh your face against

Not sure if it's really gonna help, but here are the reasons why I identify as a lesbian, so you can see if you relate to any of this:

I find female faces and body types attractive, and I often find myself getting flustered when I see an attractive woman.

When I imagine my future, it feels wrong to imagine myself with a man. It just doesn't feel right, and it's not something I look forward to when I think about it.

I don't find myself attracted to men, physically. I don't find my eyes lingering on men in an attracted sort of way. Like, I don't find muscular arms or abs attractive, unless they are on a woman. I also often find myself getting visibly disgusted when I see men in "flattering" clothing.

Also remember that sexualities aren't set in stone, and can change over time. If you feel like identifying as a lesbian is right for you, do it. You can always change it later, and you shouldn't feel ashamed by it. Ik I have used many a label. I only started referring to myself as a lesbian a few months ago, and at least for now, I feel like this is right for me

Getting back to the topic of your friend, I have NO idea what you mean by "secretly an egg" xD

I know this can be annoying to hear when you want a definite answer, but these have to be decided by you, and they very often take a while to figure out. Ik I was trying to find an identity that I was sure of for over 2 years, and mine could very well change from now. So my advice to you would be just, take your time, do some soul searching, really think about it, and if you're sure of your feelings and you really feel like you would like to pursue a relationship with him, go for it. So what if your label changes? Being happy with whoever you choose to be with is all that matters

[achilleasfury]

Jiggy knows A-Yuan :( attachment

Tell me about this /sticks hands out my enclosure

OKAY SO!!

Honestly, i dont remember where the wen siblings were in canon when Jiggy was in Nightless city, but for fic sake, theyre there now. Wen Yao meets Wen qing, and while there is a lot of mutual suspicion they... get along? Theyre not best friends, but they help each other. Wen Qing shows Yaoyao how he can heal/help his own wounds and pain and also like. Basic biology stuff. That concept has already been there in a few wen yao fics i think?

Anyways i adore the headcanon that Wen yuan is Wen Xus son, so we r sticking with that!

Wen Yao is there for the birth! *waves hand around* he knows the mother (not sure yet if she'll be from the dafan wen or like. Just there.) And has been keeping her company through the last bits of her pregnancy, esp when WQ wasnt there to do it. Since he has thr experience from the brothel in hoth working with pregnant women but also birth? Something like that.

so when A-Yuans mother dies and WX is gone as well, when Wen Yao isnt working/actively doused in blood, he helps take care of A-Yuan and supervises the time WRH spends with his grandson.

So when WRHs state gets insanely bad, Wen yao is the one saying "maybe you should send a-yuan with Wen qing away so nothing happens to them,with all the fighting going on? :(" and WRH agrees!

During the last bit Wen yao doesnt see Wen qing nor a-yuan.

End of sunshot happens, jiggy gets acknowledged, whoop whoop.

[And here i mess with canon even more bc i cant actually remember when wgat event happens lol]

Something? Sets the Jins of earlier/Jin Zixun brings Jiggy with him when he visits the Wen Camp. He arrives shortly after when WN was used as target practice.

this is where the fic actually starts lol i put an exerpt here but this is very much a draft-draft so i'l probably fo "fuck these specific sentences" in like 3 weeks and rewrite it.

// not graphic character death (jin zixun)

>>

He was breathing hard, and not breathing at all at the same time.

His eyes ran wild, trying to make sense of the scene before his eyes, trying to comprehend what was happening.

This, this should not be happening.

The child should not be here. it should be somewhere safe with relatives, all hidden away. It should not be here, face smeared with blood and dirt, holding onto Wen Qionlins dying body.

In his … was it terror? - panic? - distress? - he almost didn't register Wen Qing raising her voice at him, and his cousin - Jin Zixun - screaming something.

When he looked at the two of them, he was almost surprised to find his dagger buried in Jin Zixuns chest.

He was holding the dagger.

Stupid. Why did he do that?

“Yao-gege!”, the child, still clinging onto the, other, dying man, gasped, tears and snot dripping down his face. “You have to help him!

<<

since jiggy does know the Wens pretty well in here, his reluctance to harm innocent/the ones he is attached to, i want to go into the direction of a big inner turmoil between familial piety and "they were the closest thing to an actually real and loving family i ever had"[excluding mama meng. Love her. Gorgoeus woman.]

Also, the even worse not-trust between jiggy and nmj, since well. Wens.

Also im trying to figure out how this situation could actually like. Give 3zun a nudge into healthier dynamics-ish?

Also nmj needs to see jiggy with ANOTHER baby in his arms and have a crisi about it. He deserves it.

Ideally ofc this all would lead to jgs dying early/jiggy being able to let go of him earlier, but, who knows! I sure dont.

I also want to give the lotus trio and jiggy a bit of a more relationship? Since wwx, his attachment to the wens and jiggy and his attachment to a-yuan will like. Kinda bind them tgt and i need yanli to 'take' jiggy in. Theyre great.

I feel like i forhot half of what i wanted to say but im in a anthropology lecture rn and its INTERESTING so ":D

[gibsongirled]

I literally just woke up from a dream about the apocalypse with schlatt.. let me freak out for a second

Anyways it started with me in the passenger seat of a car with schlatt driving and Weston and kaylnn koury in the back seats?? (I did fall asleep to one of their videos so maybe that’s why) and we were on a bridge(think Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco) and kaylnn’s window was down and then she got really excited about some people on the side of the bridge I do not remember anything about them anyways and then it’s a fast forward to us being in a mall with a pov change all of a sudden my dream is following these two young Korean girls and then THATS when shit hits the fan there’s police officers everywhere these two girls are trying so hard to stay together and then they get separated but are immediately back together and then they pack up food? And leave the mall and then it’s back to my pov and me and schlatt are walking together holding hands because everyone is pushing and running for their lives and we don’t wanna get separated and then as we are walking out we see a riot police officer holding a woman back idk why but that freaks dream-me out and we leave as fast as possible and then as we are walking im asking schlatt if we should get back to our apartment to take as much stuff as we can but he’s like “no it’s okay we’ll go back for it and I have my bag with me so we have money and our ids and passports” and we leave

Now it’s been a couple hours and we go into this kind of alleyway where’s there’s lot of stores (it’s a thing in my country idk if that’s the same for you) and we go to a guy selling like HUGE bagel bread and we got and he asked us about wtf was happening and we were like “shit idk man we know as much as you” and we left and we went back to the apartment (do NOT asked me how we just suddenly were) and I went and charged my phone and our portable WiFi and we just got huge backpacks and put everything we could ever think of in it and then we left

Okay now there’s another part of my dream that is completely random and I assume happens after we leave the apartment? But it could be a completely different dream that I roped in with this one but I’ll continue none the less

we were in front of this HUGE fog and there was Military vehicles and shit and generals and shit and I was there(schlatt too but he isn’t important in this part) and I think I was some sort of scientist?? Cause everyone was asking me questions and shit and all of a sudden it was like a filter was put on? I suddenly saw the creature behind the fog and it was HUGE and it looked kinda like Godzilla and I was freaking out but no one else had the same filter thing over their eyes which made them see it and I’m trying to explain what I’m seeing and next thing I know this Godzilla-like creature is absolutely DESTROYING a couple of buildings and that’s it the dream ends last I remember I take schlatt’s hand and we get into a helicopter

okay now for some reason my brain gave me an alternate ending???? 😭 I do not know but my brain works in mysterious ways ig so here it is

Basically the same thing except schlatt also has the filter over his eyes that makes him see the monster !! And the monster is also nice? 😭and we start genuinely communicating until the general orders some type of futuristic planes to cut its head off and it was a whole dramatic thing and I woke up low-key sad because rn it sounds ridiculous but in the dream I was getting so close to communicating but this alternative ending also ends up with me and schlatt getting on a helicopter except this time it isn’t me who’s trying to get schlatt in it’s him who’s trying to get me in while I’m still freaking out

and that’s all I know it’s so long but i HAD to get it out and this dream probably happened because i re-read ur fanfic, watched a bunch of tlou edits and, watched a bunch of sinjin drowning coffee cams until i fell asleep (hence them being in the dream while we were in the car) (i also don’t know what happened to them after the car 😭)

—🍓

I'M CRYING

that sounded like a very intense dream, holy hell

also rip weston and kaylnn, i guess 😔

[tyonfs]

lol is this a lil late n embarrassing buttt the road trip i was on was to houston and i visited an old friend that i reconnected with and honestly it was really refreshing. it made me and my mom really consider not moving away so 🤗im not moving! im staying in texas for the time being until i graduate then its off to grad school so two more years 🫡

that was the important news now to the bad news. my best friend recently got a boyfriend which is great good for her, i’m happy for her. but everytime she gets a bf she like.. flaunts him in front of me because she’s aware i’ve had my fair share of hookups and situationships and im ngl.. at some point i was a player! like she knows this and she’s always like bragging and it just makes me so uncomfortable. on top of that recently i’ve reconnected with a childhood friend that i didn’t know went to my school and you know it’s really great, her group of friends are amazing and they’re so sweet. because of that my best friend gets jealous of me hanging out with these girls like 😭😭 ?? it’s not high school girl..? it’s fucking college and if you want to act a certain way around me and hang out with people who talk shit about me then so be it!

recently i’ve been really bored so i did what any girl did and hopped back on hinge. tell me why some guy from HIGHSCHOOL hit me up and tried getting with me just to find out he has a gf like girl ?? 😭 get ur priorities straight speaking of men my friends are trying to set me up with this guy and make him my date to their sororities formal 😭😭. you know he is so fine and he’s my type 🙈 maybeeee

i feel like mentally im doing a lot better than i was in january, physically too like im just breezing living my life. again not that into kpop anymore lol i just haven’t listened to the music in like over 4 months i find that scary. i did read some fics last night tho, do not regret it one bit 🤗

how are you alice, any updates on that guy you said you were sorta taking to, that sounded exciting! how was your valentine’s day lovely! - 🎀

OMG YAY THATS SO NICE THAT YOU'RE NOT MOVING (i think this is a good thing right??) but shoutout to that friend you reconnected with for changing your mom's mind :') and here's to not having to pack Everything and take it to another house 🥳

oh that friend of yours..... :/ that's so icky of her ngl like yes let's be happy about the new relationship but no need to bring other ppl down bc of it !! and honestly .... i've met plenty of guys who have had plenty of hookups and situationships themselves but people only make a big deal out of it when a girl is that way :( don't think it's weird at all for a woman to know that she doesn't want to commit just yet like that's just you putting yourself first !! omg PLS her being mad about you hanging out with other friends gave me chilling high school flashbacks 😐 she does NOT get to be mad if she hangs out with people who talk shit about you like what?? (looking forward to karma coming her way cause!!)

WHYS HE ON HINGE WHEN HE HAS A GIRLFRIEND I HATEEE MEN OMG 😭 also i hope we get an update on this sorority formal guy 🤭 im glad you've been doing better now tho !! honestly i haven't been reading kpop fics (more in the hogwarts brainrot rn 😵‍💫) but it's so nostalgic sometimes even if you're not stanning groups atm

omg i self sabotaged 🏃‍♂️ focusing on myself!!! (i am terrified of commitment) but also this guy i Used to have a thing with hit me up a while ago (after literally leaving a store that we were both in after we locked eyes) and said he wants me back 💀 i was like LOL no and got back to my silly little pokemon game <3 also valentine's day was with the girls this year 🥰 it was really nice!! i also bought this cute heart-shaped top that i will be wearing exclusively for valentines >:)) how about you??

[goldendirk]

just so everyone knows, a 45+yo woman said i look good. so i have won at life and people being shit online mean nothing to me now

[needs-to-stop-looking-at-valves]

The way I would actually give my right arm for some decent Félix/ pepa smut omg….

Me;"you're literally at work rn what are you doing-"

Also me;"BUT ITS PEPA AND FÉLIX??? YOU GOTTA DO THEM AGAIN????"

So here we go writing these YET again (I wrote them getting pegged here;

BUT ANYWAYS LETS GO-

Félix loved his wife. If you talked to him for more than five minutes, you would know this. He was crazy about her, nuts, completely insane over her. He loved every single thing about her. Even when her anger almost struck Augustín with lightning. Thank God Félix pulled him to the side just in time, only striking the tile. Félix muttered a curse under his breath, damn near dropping the groceries they were just sent out to get. He looked up, watching as Pepa's part of the Casita seemed to be full of swirling, menacing black clouds. It was like a villain's lair, and he knew he had to go help her, lest she strike down every house in town. Félix gave Augustín a knowing look, and he nodded.

"Go, I'll handle these."

They were friends, best of friends honestly, supporting each other and their magical ends of the family. Félix let him take the things into the kitchen, and he walked upstairs. He stopped in front of her door, fixed his hair, checked his teeth, unbuttoned a button on his shirt. She couldn't be TOO upset when he pulled out that classic charm of his. He knocked on the door, and slowly opened it, finding his wife pacing back and forth, grumbling angrily and bitterly.

"Pepa? Mi amor? Que te tiene tan molesta?"

He knew that look. The glare, the nose in the air, the stiffened shoulders, hands on her hips. Someone pissed her off. He raised his hand up to pause her thought, before shutting the door, and sat on the rocking chair right by her bed. It was usually her chair, but he wanted her to sit on the bed once she let herself sit down, let her have the room to flail if she so wished. After nodding, she didn't hesitate.

"You would NOT believe Juileta!"

He had a feeling it was her. While they loved each other, as sisters do, Juileta was a lot more soft spoken and reserved, while his Pepa was a tornado of emotions and strong feelings, so they clashed a LOT. The amount of times he and Augustín had to act as referee for these two.

"What'd she do?"

"So, I went into town with Bruno, you know how he's still getting used to being around people-"

"Ten years in a wall, not surprised."

She stomped her foot on the floor, thunder clashing right above her head. Her lips pursed, her little baby hairs standing up from the atmosphere.

"Are YOU going to talk, or am I?"

He lifted his hands up in defense.

"Sorry mi vida, go on."

Pepa was more angry at her sister than Félix it seemed, for she went on without giving him another mean look.

"ANYWAY. We walk him into town, he's still getting used to people, and this maldito idiota, this tonto, has the NERVE to ask Bruno for a vision. Bruno said no, and this man pushed him, and he said- you won't believe this- 'what use do you have if not for your gift'. So I get mad, this man is bullying MY hermanito, and I'm ready to thunderstorm all over him, right?"

She halted, making sure Félix was listening, as if he was never NOT listening to her.

"Sí, I'm following."

"So I'm standing there, ready to DEFEND him, and what does she do? She pulls me away! Tells me 'I can't use my gift like that' and 'Bruno is a big boy, he needs to learn to handle these things by himself'. Can you BELIEVE her?!"

Pepa was such a kind woman. Violent maybe, but it was all out of love. She'd do the same if it was Antonio, Camilo, Dolores, or even himself. It's why he made a 'I can't believe this' face, palms out in a 'what the fuck' motion.

"Look, I love Bruno like he's one of my brothers, but there's no WAY he can protect himself, at least not yet. He flinched when someone asked him if he wanted a papaya, he's not used to people yet."

"EXACTLY! I couldn't believe her! She sounded like Abuela and I was just. UGH."

She sat down on the bed, mumbling 'clear skies' as she ran her fingers through her hair. It wasn't working, he could tell, even without the imposing clouds. He got up and sat next to her, reaching over to hold her hand, stopping her motions. He hated when she tried to conceal her feelings, even after this time.

"So what happened after that?"

He tried not to jump at the next crack of thunder, sounding VERY close to their very door.

"I had to practically carry poor Bruno back home! Félix you should've seen him, hoodie up and hunched over like his rats! And, when I got home, I was so mad, SHE had to comfort him! Me! The one that DEFENDED him! I can't believe her!"

He hated seeing her upset. Most would wonder WHY he inquired further, but he wanted her to feel how she was feeling. He LOVED her feelings, and hated when she tried to hide them. But now that she seemed to have let it all out, it was time for damage control. He was gentle as he took a hold of her hair, fumbling the tip of her braid with his hand. She wouldn't look at him at first. Then he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her till she was pressed right against him.

"Pepa, my love. You were right in this case. But your thundering might hurt someone, it almost got Augustín on our way from the market."

"...did you get my Chocoramo?"

It wasn't that she didn't care. He could tell there was shame in her eyes. She was just especially embarrassed, frustrated after a long day. He nodded, fumbling with the hair band that kept her hair together. Her eyes were watching him carefully, expecting him to make a wrong move. But he didn't.

"I did. It was the first thing I grabbed. Because YOU are the first thing on my mind, always. And I think that my wife, Tan hermosa y amable,"

He trailed off, making a huge display of kissing her braid right before undoing it, letting her watch with bated breath as he slowly undid her braid. Pepa LOVED his fingers running through his hair, he could tell that this incident was slipping her mind. The clouds parted, her hand was on her chest, as if she was gasping at such a display.

"Should get the chance to...express herself a bit."

Her hair was fully down now, and holy shit did she look like a queen to him. She not only controlled the weather, but his heart. She scoffed, fanning him away with her hand.

"Aye, you're speaking nonsense again."

He knew that look in her eyes. She wanted him. What an honor. He let his fingers rub through her beautiful locks, kissing them in appreciation (he LOVED how she smelled like the pouring rain and soil) while his other hand started to unbutton his shirt. He was slow, trying to recall this satisfaction was for her, not for him.

"Am I? Pepa, mi corazon, you look as hungry as a tiger. Por favor, dejame cuidarte."

She wanted to give him some snide remark, but he saw those eyes lock onto his chest. She LOVED his body, possibly as much as he loved hers. Twenty plus years, and she STILL kept trying to jump him here and there. Her nose curled, as if she was upset by the offer.

"Miércoles, Félix, just kiss me."

And as always, he gave her what she wanted. She leaned down and he leaned up to meet her lips, letting his fingers run through her scalp, while hers ran over his belly, and his chest. She touched him the same way she danced-with vigor, passion, a fluid motion that the ocean itself couldn't create. Her nails felt so good against his chest hair (she loved them as a teenager, and it seemed as though nothing has changed), he couldn't help but moan into her mouth. She swallowed them greedily, nails lightly digging into his skin. Not too much, not too little. Just like her, she was perfect.

Then he pushed her right on her back, placing himself between her legs. Her cheeks were aflame, and he knew the room had gotten MUCH hotter. Clearly he had to take off more clothes, less they both burned up. He took off his shirt, throwing it to the side, letting her look up at him. Her face was tomato red, her eyes were shameless, and she bit onto her nail, clearly liking what she was seeing. She tried to take off his pants using the heel of her feet, but she never could wrap those legs around his thick frame, despite how long and beautiful they were. He laughed, wagging a finger in front of her face.

"No no no, niña traviesa~ your clothes need to come off too."

She grumbled a few choice words, but allowed him to take off her clothes. He took his sweet time, letting her whine and complain under him. She squirmed underneath him, but was still pinned down by his weight. And she liked it, because she kept whining. At first she swore at him to hurry up, sounding angry, and there was even a crack of thunder outside, as if threatening him if he didn't continue. Then she started to beg. He was becoming VERY aware of how hot it was in here- it felt like a sauna, and he was sweating already. Not that she minded him sweaty, given how she kept touching his chest, his stomach, and his shoulders.

"Fèlix, please…"

Oh she was beautiful. She didn't have the body of a 'traditional' Colombian woman; no curves or large breasts, but he didn't need a traditional woman. He needed his Pepa, small frame, pale skin, and a small chest that showed just the cutest set of breasts. He remembered hearing her insecurities about them in her younger years, everyone teasing her for having 'a little boy body'. Kids could be cruel, and just stupid.

"So beautiful, you are. MY wife, is so beautiful and wonderful. Eres como una diosa para mi~"

He kissed down her chest, slowly, carefully, showing his devotion to her, before his lips wrapped around one of her nipples. He remembered when he first did this, she jumped so badly, that a thunder strike made a giant crack right in the middle of town. She still loved that spot, given how her beautiful back arched for him.

"Más, por favor, dame más…"

You can see why Fèlix had such a big head- if you could get a woman to talk like that, to beg like that for you- wouldn't you be sort of full of yourself too?

"I know you want more. I'll give you more, I'll give you EVERYTHING."

He lifted up her pretty legs, letting him look at her pussy. Covered in red hair, it was already sopping wet for him, coating her inner thighs and making her folds glisten for him. And like a moth to a flame, he was drawn to it. He gave a few pecks around the area, drawing near to it, but oh so very slowly. Oh she hated it, he could tell by how she twitched for him.

"Fèlix! Stop TEASING me!"

She sounded almost like a brat as she scowled at him. He chuckled against her, and he knew his breath was making her toes curl.

"Okay okay okay! So impatient. Only because you've had a rough day. I could tease you for HOURS~"

"Fèlix if you don't touch me RIGHT now, I'm going t-to-"

He cut her off before he could complete her threat. He let his large tongue spread her folds apart as he tasted her. He kept a firm grip on her thighs, not wanting her to squirm away from him (not that she wanted to). He looked up at her, watching her writhe under his lips. As the heat made their bodies sweat, as her juices slid into his mouth and over his tongue, he tried not to lose himself in ecstasy. His cock was hard, practically throbbing against his pants, simply from just watching her. She was moaning for him, as if she was singing, her cheeks were flushed so beautifully, and she played with her nipples, just how he liked. Pair that with her open, drooling, swear fueled mouth, and it took everything in him not to touch himself during this. But you know the saying.

Ladies first.

He continued to slurp and suck and fuck her with his tongue, making her moan his name over and over again. It flooded his ears like sweet music, and he was amazed he didn't finish in his damn pants. Thankfully, she came, head tossed back as she bucked her hairy pussy against his face, forcing the dripping arousal further into his mouth. He pulled away, wiping his face free. She looked at him, chest rising and falling as she panted. She was a mess; hair slick in sweat, teeth in almost a snarl, and eyes that said she wasn't done, not yet.

"Come here. Now."

He knew exactly what she wanted. He wrapped his legs around her, using his knees to keep from putting his entire weight on her. She unbuckled his belt, and pulled down his pants, then his underwear. Fèlix wasn't long, rather 'stubby' even, but he was THICK. As in, when she leaned in to drag her tongue alongside it, then push it past her sweet lips, it stuffed her pretty mouth completely. She pulled away with a shameless 'pop' sound, and met his eyes, keeping his cock, hard and throbbing, pressed up against her rosy cheeks.

"How are you going to give it to me?"

He was waiting for that question. He peeled off his belt, and wiped the sweat from his brow.

"I have an idea. Manos."

He wrapped his belt tightly around her hands, and used it to pull her off the bed. He left her there for a moment, in order to put the mirror in the corner of the room, right into frame. He sat back down, and yanked her right back in to sit on his lap.

"Fèlix-"

"I want you to see how beautiful you are when I make love to you, Pepa. Look at you,"

He paused, holding her hands up and leaving them immobile. She used her hips to grind that pussy on his cock, making them both just absolutely weak for each other.

"So hungry and passionate for me. I want you to watch as you take me. I want you to see the beauty you have."

Suddenly she had her hands behind her back, and she was laying on her belly. Fèlix was a strong man, capable of throwing her around, and she loved that. She watched herself in the mirror, expressions changing as she felt Fèlix dig his big, meaty claws into her ass, spreading her cheeks for mostly his own satisfaction. Then, he got to watch her watch her own expression as he pushed himself right inside her oh so wet pussy. He would've teased her further, but even HE couldn't hold it back anymore. He dug one hand in her mane of hair, keeping a nice, firm grip on her head as he started to slam into her.

"Fèlix, h-harder, please! dámelo más fuerte!"

He obeyed. He slammed into her, her wet pussy blessing the room with sounds of it getting slammed, while cursing the sheets with stains. He leaned over, knowing all his weight was only forcing her to bite her bottom lip.

"I could make love to you ALL night if you let me. You're so beautiful. Look at you as you take me, as you let me fuck this pussy I love so much."

He was worried she couldn't hear him over her own cries, but their eyes met in the mirror, so she knew she was listening, to some degree. He pulled her hair, just a little, making her cry out for him. Oh he was close, and so was she.

"You want me to finish inside?"

"Yes!! Yes yes YES!"

Oh she was so tight, so absolutely sopping wet for him, he was due any fucking second.

"You want me to fill you up with cum? I know you like it. I know you like how hot it feels inside of you."

She nodded, taking a minute to swallow her drool, as if it wasn't already cascading down her chin. Oh her eyes were in such a haze, he was surprised it wasn't mist outside.

"Yes!!! Give it to me! Dame otro bebe! PLEASE FÉLIX!!"

And that's what finished him off. Picturing her pregnant again. She was so beautiful and vibrant when she carried his children, he could never keep his hands off of her. He pulled her pretty hair just right, and his cum filled her up. She stuck out her pretty tongue as he pumped cum into her womb, eyes damn near rolling to the back of her head. He waited until he finished, before locking his legs around hers, and finishing his assault. He pounded that cum right into her, as if wanting her womb to not miss a single drop.

"Take it. Take all of it. Be a good Mami and give me another baby. I'll take care of them, just like I Take care of you. Go on. Finish on papi's dick."

And after a few more thrusts, she did. Toes curling, voice shamelessly thanking papi, and she fell limp. They sat there, sweating, exhausted, and content. Félix swallowed his own spit before leaning down to kiss her cheek, fingers still in her hair and massaging her scalp.

"Can I get Mami a tea?"

"And my Chocoramos."

"And your Chocoramos~"

He kissed her cheek again, squeezed her butt, before pulling out of her. He admired the way cum dripped from her, before putting his pants on, and walking out the door. He got looks right away, from everyone's sweaty and uncomfortable faces. He shrugged.

"Hey, I saved the town from another thunderstorm- you're WELCOME."

Didn't matter if they appreciated it though. What mattered, was that Pepa did.