#but like. these works of art ARE being made. it's just enjoyed by a smaller audience with equal impact though

[sylvies-kablooie]

i do unironically think the best artists of our generation are posting to get 20 notes and 3 reblogs btw. that fanfic with like 45 kudos is some of the best stuff ever written. those OCs you carry around have some of the richest backstories and worldbuilding someone has ever seen. please do not think that reaching only a few people when you post means your art isn't worth celebrating.

[catskets]

A more in-depth guide for creating visual novels, especially in the horror, horror-romance, etc circles

Some of you have seen my previous, smaller post on crafting visual novels, especially in this little space of Tumblr that a lot of us have found themselves in. Since that post took off, I've wanted to create a longer guide to help touch on some points I've thought about for the past few months.

In case you've never heard of me, I'm Kat, also known as catsket. I have a Bachelor of Fine Arts in Game Design. I've been making games for nearly 5 years, and I've been doing visual novels more "professionally" for 2. You may know me for Art Without Blood, 10:16, God is in the Radio, or Fatal Focus. I'm here to help you make your first visual novel.

Please note that my advice does not fit everyone, and you may disagree with what I say. That's okay! It doesn't work for all. That's why there's thousands of resources out there.

FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO HAVE NEVER MADE A GAME

So, you have an idea for a huge visual novel. Horror, a shady and obsessive love interest, a little bit of woo-hooing. 100k words. Maybe a million. What is this, the 07th Expansion?

I notice a lot of people getting into visual novels are artists first. That's okay! I wanted to do art for games before I realized how much I enjoyed writing. And even less of you have probably touched Visual Studio. Again, perfectly okay. We all start somewhere.

My number one piece of advice? Make shitty games.

What does that mean?! My recommendation to those who have never done games is to make a bunch of shitty ones. Think of a theme, or hell, even join a game jam, where you make a game that fits a theme in a short amount of time. Spend about a week on your game. Focus on making something polished. Polish your mechanics. Polish your output.

I recommend, if you can, to make at least 4-6, if not more, kind of shitty games before hopping into longer projects. Making a game is a skill, just like art, just like writing. And game development is combining ALL of these together into one big soup being stirred by a skeleton hand puppet. You'll get into the rhythm and see what works for you.

It also helps you learn, perhaps, the second most important thing here: do you even like making games? There are cases out there where people have created video games (not saying visual novels) just for clout. That's no fun for you, that's no fun for your players. And you might go through this process and find that you don't like making games. That's completely okay! It's not for everyone.

Also, you can use these shittier games to gather an audience. I've built my audience because, for the past few years, I've been releasing games that slowly give me growing fields of eyes every day. A success story overnight is a rare one. It takes time. It's like building a brand, but you aren't a brand, you're an artist.

REV UP YOUR ENGINES!

Ren'py is the number one engine you will be recommended. It is very beginner-friendly, with lots of tutorials, assets on itch.io to use and download, and support. The engine comes with a few tutorials in the form of games, whose code you can freely browse. This is the engine I use most often. Most visual novels you see are made in this engine.

Twine is a text-based engine that most people use for interactive fiction. You can add images and audio, though, if you don't mind messing with HTML. I use Twine for text games and for outlining for my larger games. Ever played Degrees of Lewdity? Yeah, I know you have. Don't ask why. That game was made in Twine.

RPG Maker has multiple versions and has been used for exclusively VNs if you don't mind fucking around with plugins. It can definitely give your game a super unique feel. I recommend RPG Maker MV, since it has the most resources. This line of engines usually costs money, but it often goes on sale for under $5-$15.

People will recommend TyranoBuilder, but as a user and player, the lack of options and the format the games often come in is just...not fun to navigate. It advertises itself as little to no code, but it's often evident in the final results. Some good games have been made in it, though, so if you want to use it for prototyping/practice, you can. I'm not a fan, but that doesn't mean that fans don't exist! This engine costs money.

Not an engine, but check out Ink! Super useful scripting language that's used for more professional projects.

DEMOS, DEMOS, DEMOS

You've got an idea for a long-term project, and now you want to show it to the world! But wait, wait, don't do that yet!

When should I start advertising my game? This is a personal opinion, but I say that you should not start advertising your game until 50-60% of your demo is complete. Why? As I've discussed with some fans of indie VNs, they can name quite a few projects that have been in the "working on the demo" age for 1-2+ years. I've been in the Kickstarter MMO circles. If you, making a single-player experience with little mechanics to balance and polish (aka a visual novel), are taking that long on a demo, I am going to assume the game is not coming out. There are some games I have seen out here that have been in "working on the demo" phase where I haven't seen a single ounce of what the project will look like.

What should I put in my demo? The purpose of a demo is to showcase the mechanics and the vibes and the mechanics of your game. It's a demonstration. In my last post, I pointed to the Dead Space 2 demo that was showcased at E3 (RIP), that takes place about 2 hours into the story and shows how enemies are defeated, some animations, bits of the story, etc. Usually, because it's less about mechanics and more about vibes, visual novel demos showcase a certain percentage of the full thing (5-10%.) Can you showcase the vibe of the game here and what players should expect? If not, show off another portion.

How long should I work on my demo? Before, I said 3-4 months. That can be true, that can also not be true. Think about how long the demo takes you in proportion to how long the actual game should take you. Don't put too much effort. The demo is to showcase the vibe. It's to see how much the public and fans may enjoy the game.

My game is 18+, what should I do? Make a splash screen when the game is downloaded to let players know your game is 18+. If it's going to contain sexual content, you can hide it with itch.io's adult content filter. Write it on the page itself that your game is for adults only. Don't put your demo behind a paywall. This is genuinely ridiculous. The purpose of a demo is to showcase what a game is like before a player purchases it. That defeats the point of a demo. I've seen this happen, and it discourages players from approaching, especially because most demos never make it past the demo phase. So...I'm paying you $10 for 2-3k words of a game that may never come out?

Should I make a social media for my game? YES! Go for it. These anchors are how people will find your game. Make a Tumblr and open that ask box. Make a Twitter. Go to BluSky. Advertising is not bad. Some YouTubers even take e-mail suggestions from developers. Feel free to shoot your shot. The worst they can do is not respond.

HOW TO SET UP YOUR ITCH.IO PAGE:

Getting your itch.io to a presentable state can be very challenging! There's many ways to do it. I highly recommend using this page image guide for learning how to size your images to make your page pop!

Itch.io themselves has suggested to not publish a page until the game or demo is released. You can make the page and keep it as a draft, but do not publish it until you're ready!

Your cover image is the image that will appear in the search of the website, on any front pages, in collections, and on your profile. What have I seen that works? Key art of one of the characters up close and the title of the game! If you can make it a .GIF, do it! Bitches love .GIFs!

Itch.io recommends 3-5 screenshots on your page. I recommend 1 of these 5 be a .GIF that shows how gameplay feels. This is effective, even for visual novels!

Write a 3-5 sentence summary about your game for the description. What is your story about? What is the draw?

DO NOT BE ONE OF THOSE PEOPLE WHO IS GOING TO SAY "This is not like other visual novels. It doesn't have that cheesy this or that or-" No one cares. Genuinely. You're putting down other games in your genre and elevating yourself to the pompous level.

TAG YOUR GAME! itch.io gives you a list of tags to choose from when you go to tag. DON'T USE THIS! Try to go for more specific tags. Arimia has a very good guide on how to use itch.io's tagging system to your advantage.

GENERAL GAME MAKING ADVICE

SCOPE KNIFE IS SUPER USEFUL! Everyone makes games that are way over their workload. It's okay to cut out features and add them later. Prioritize making a finished game before hitting those stretch goals.

PLAN, PLAN, PLAN! Writing outlines is super helpful. I use Twine for my outlines, because you can connect your passages together and make really well-thought webs.

IT'S OKAY TO ASK FOR HELP! Whether it's from friends, professionals, or anything in-between. They can help with assets, editing, etc.

HONE YOUR SKILLS OUTSIDE OF GAMES! Write some poetry. Do some sketches everyday. Improve on your craft to improve your games

MUSIC IS HARD. THERE ARE RESOURCES. Most of us aren't musicians. That's okay. Make sure the music you get for your game is allowed to be used. You can use anything non-commercial if your game will not cost money or donations. I try to do songs in the public domain or free to use overall with credit if I don't have a musician. Consult the Creative Commons website if you're unsure how you're supposed to use a certain piece of music. If you don't use the right stuff, not only can it put you in legal trouble, but it can put streamers in hot water if they play your game and they can't upload the video because music is copyrighted.

PLEASE, DO SOMETHING ABOUT YOUR UI. Wanna know an easy way to get your game to look more professional? Edit the damn UI for your game. Make a new textbox, even if it's just a black box. Change the font. Eventually, players recognize the defaults and patterns of games made in certain engines and may attribute a lack of UI changes to a developer being lazy. It doesn't take very long to change the colors around and move text! Please do it to add a little pop to your game.

DEADLINES ARE AWESOME. Not everyone works well under pressure, but if you give yourself an infinite amount of time to make something, it'll never get done. Set goals for yourself for how much you can work on something.

IF YOU HAVE TO GIVE UP, GIVE UP. Making things is hard, especially long-term. Emergencies happen, jobs happen, life happens. Let your fans know that a project isn't happening anymore. Don't leave them in the dark. You don't need to tell strangers your medical history or anything, but transparency + honesty are really hot traits. You should use those in your creative work. This is one reason why I advocate for not publishing or advertising things until you know it's stable.

SHOWCASING YOUR CONTENT

People love to see WIPs for games! This is what the devlog is good for! A devlog is a post where a developer talks about and showcases some things happening in the game? What can you add to your dev log?

PERCENTAGES! How much of the artwork is done? How much of this character's route is done?

SNEAK PEEKS AT ARTWORK AND SPRITES!

GIFS! GIRLS LOVE GIFS!

Anything else to showcase your game's content! Posting consistent updates retains and even gains a fan's attention for your work.

RUNNING YOUR TUMBLR

You've joined us, and you've made a Tumblr for your blog! Link it on the itch.io page, so people can come find you after playing your awesome demo!

Do I have to respond to every ask? No. It's your blog. Delete whatever asks you want.

I got a hate comment! What do I do? Delete it and move on. I have a more detailed section on hate below.

I want to interact with [blog]! How do I do that? Reach out to the devs for silly little collabs. If you come onto a developer slightly headstrong, they might feel you are being abrasive or using them for content.

If people make fan content, interact with it! Encourage it! Reblog it. Show your love.

OTHER IMPORTANT THINGS

PROFESSIONALISM IS KEY. These may be pet projects, but you want to appear some level of professional on your actual itch.io page.

Being dismissive of player and fan complaints or criticisms will make you appear childish.

If your game is broken, fix it. I have been told by some amateur developers to ignore game-breaking bugs. It does not make me, a player, want to engage with your content. It seems messy and unfinished.

With the above point, it's 100% okay to have bugs and errors upon release. Every developer and their brood mother has. To decrease these issues, get playtesters. Friends can play your games, spot any errors, and help you point out things that can be improved upon. I recommend having playtesters at every stage of development.

Make sure your game runs before you publish it. Please.

You can still be silly and giddy! There's no reason to not be, especially when you get positive comments! The point of this is to not be outright rude to potential players and fans.

IGNORE HATE COMMENTS. In this case, a hate comment is a statement that contains no constructive criticism and are only here to be insulting or malicious. People are going to leave you with actual piles of dog shit in your ask box. They are trying to provoke you. Giving hate comments any attention, even if you're there to "clap back" proves that they got to you, even if you don't take the hate to heart. They will continue to pester you. Delete any hate comments and ignore them completely. Laugh about them with friends in a private setting, sure.

THINK BEFORE YOU REFERENCE! I know one big thing in this community is adding references to other games in yours, such as plushies of other characters or putting them on posters. The best thing you can do it ask the developer before adding this. How would you feel if some random person you've never met put your character in a video game? Most of us would feel weird and potentially violated. Open communication with devs is awesome. I am usually okay with it as long as someone asks for permission.

As a complete aside, I prefer more tasteful references to other games as opposed to 523482346 plushies and posters. These have been slightly overdone. Why not theme a candy after another game's character? Maybe your characters know each other.

OTHER RESOURCES I RECOMMEND

Devtalk is a server dedicated to independent visual novel creators. You can find jobs, resources, advice, talks, and, like, everything there! Devtalk is super useful. Everyone in there is so cool. They have a really great and comprehensive list of resources that I could not even begin to cover.

Visual Novel Design is a great YouTuber. No other words, check the guy out!

Ren'py and whatever other engine you're using has documentation that's super useful to follow.

Arimia not only has amazing VN resources, especially for marketing, but she also just has? Amazing games that you should check out?

And for a shameless self plug, I'm the lead of Sacred Veins, a collective of devs creating narrative games, whether it be horror, humor, romance, or everything in-between. Come hang out with us!

[explorevenus]

birthday girl ♡ yandere!leon kennedy x reader

nsfw (18+) - minors dni or i will call ur mom

word count - 3.1k

description - after months on end in captivity, your special day arrives. leon plans to make it your best birthday ever.

tags/warnings - yandere!leon kennedy, reader is in captivity (it's loosely based in the universe of my fic something permanent), no use of Y/N, pet names (puppy, princess, etc.), daddy kink, dubcon, reader gets put on a collar and leash, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), p in v, breeding kink

a/n - a birthday gift for my chaos puppy wife @nexysworld ♡

my masterlist ♡

my ao3 ♡

fic under the cut, thanks so much for reading and i hope u enjoy ;w;

-venus ♡

"Do you know what day it is, princess?"

You were a little bit shocked that those were the first words out of Leon's mouth when he came home from work that day. He didn't ask you about your day, he didn't implore you to ask about his, he simply asked you if you knew what day it was, and of course you didn't. You had no way of knowing. It almost made you nervous that this was a test.

Warily, you shook your head. "I don't know. What day is it?"

His smile widened, more than reaching his eerily warm blue eyes as answered you, "It's your birthday."

You hadn't really thought about it. By now you'd sort of forgotten that time was even real. "It's my birthday?" You tilted your head.

Leon nodded sweetly, tipping you up by your chin so he could gift you with a barrage of soft kisses. "It is, and if I have anything to say about it, it's gonna be your best birthday."

Eyeing him curiously, you said nothing, and he didn't either. He just took your hand and brought you down to the kitchen, where you were mildly surprised to find quite the spread waiting for you. Laid out on the kitchen island was a beautiful cake decorated in your favorite colors, a takeout bag from what was once your favorite restaurant when you weren't being held captive and two small boxes wrapped in pink paper. You couldn't help but wonder when he found the time to do all of this.

"What do you think, angel?" He asked, a hand at the small of your back as he watched your face closely for your reaction.

You approached the island slowly, inspecting the cake like a piece of fine art. Based on the intricacy of the decorations alone, it was obviously not inexpensive, and now you were extra curious about what could possibly be in those boxes.

"Thank you," You responded, turning around to face him, and despite how much you hated throwing him a bone, your next words weren't entirely ingenuine, "This was really thoughtful."

You never imagined something as simple as a spontaneous birthday party would be enough to make you feel a little bit normal again, to remind you that time is still real. 

Leon drew your body in close so he could plant a kiss at the crown of your head. "It's my pleasure, really. The day my princess was brought into this world is one worth celebrating."

What you weren't expecting was for dinner to feel even more normal somehow. You didn't feel like a captive as you and Leon sat across from each other in the low light, sharing casual conversation over your favorite meal from a takeout box like it was just another day. By some stroke of luck he even poured you a glass of wine. 

Out of extreme caution for your safety, of course, Leon didn't light any candles on your cake before he cut you a slice, but he did prompt you to make a wish anyway. For the first time in a long while, it didn't even occur to you to wish for your freedom. You silently wished that treatment like this wouldn't be saved solely for your birthday going forward.

When it came time to open your presents, you were intensely curious. It was long since evident by now that Leon had studied your life and your interests long before he ever took you in, so there was no telling what he might have thought up for you. As you carefully untied the ribbon on the smaller of the two boxes, your heart began to race a little bit. Leon's gaze was practically burning holes into you as you opened the box.

Inside was an immaculate ring, and you didn't even want to imagine how much it must have cost. The band was lined with small glittering diamonds that came together in the middle to wind around a specimen of your favorite stone.

"Leon..." You gasped softly, plucking the ring from the satin it was perched in, and before you had a chance to, he gently took it from your hand and slipped it on to your ring finger. Of course, it was a perfect fit. "It's beautiful... thank you."

Brushing a lock of your hair behind your ear, Leon kissed your forehead and smiled, admiring the way the stones glittered in the low light. "You deserve it, sweet girl. You've been such a little angel for me lately."

You were a bit shocked by how good it felt to hear him say that. The more you thought about it, the more you realized how hard you'd been trying lately, and as dark as it might have been, it was absurdly validating to have him acknowledge that.

Entirely of your own volition, you drew him in for a hug, pretending for just one moment that this was all completely normal, that Leon was just your boyfriend who was being sweet by treating you to a private birthday celebration. 

He granted you another kiss before pulling away, gesturing toward the second box on the table. "One more, sweetheart. Go ahead and open it."

Your eyes were mostly drawn to the shimmering ring on your finger as you pulled apart the ribbon and took off the top-- your attention, however, was quickly pulled back in to the contents of the box as soon as the lid was off. Nestled safely in a bed of tissue paper was a collar and leash, baby pink in color and noticeably high quality, possibly even custom made. Dangling from the collar was a heart shaped tag, Princess engraved in the middle. Suddenly your face began to burn and all those sweet feelings from just moments before melted away into that familiar sense of horror you'd gotten so used to.

But you knew he was waiting for an answer. Hesitantly, you looked up at him with a forced smile and said, "It's beautiful, daddy."

Leon pulled you into his lap, peppering your cheek and jaw with a barrage of kisses as he gathered your hair at the base of your neck in preparation to put the collar on you. "I'm glad you like it, pretty baby," He spoke into your ear, nibbling softly at the shell. "Gotta make sure you know you're all mine."

Your breath hitched as you felt the piece clasp into place around your neck, and only seconds later he was clipping the leash to the loop in the front and giving it a quick little tug just to test it out. Whimpering softly, you leaned back into his broad chest and rested your head on his shoulder, trying so hard now to forget about the ring on your finger.

For your birthday, he got you two presents that really only benefitted him by symbolizing your commitment. You were about to find out that he intended to make that three. 

"Now, let's see how well you train on that leash, baby."

He tugged at it again, stepping around you to begin leading you toward the stairs, and it didn't exactly take a stroke of genius to discern where he might be taking you. Your throat tightened and your face burned as you were left with no choice but to fall in line behind him. You wanted to dig your heels into the floor and resist, but you also wanted to bask in how nice he was being to you, relatively speaking anyway.

At least for your birthday, you chose peace.

Leon was impressed with your behavior as he led you into the bedroom. He honestly expected a healthy amount of resistance, and to be met with none felt euphoric. Maybe you really had come around, he thought to himself, and he couldn't help but smirk.

Walking you over to the end of the bed, Leon looped some of the excess leash around his knuckles and caressed your cheek with his other hand, guiding you forward until you were standing in front of him, your back pressed against his chest. He gave you a kiss to the crown of your head before stooping down to whisper in your ear, "Get on the bed, on your hands and knees."

His tone was gentle but his words made you frown to yourself. Still, you obeyed without question, shaking limbs wobbling to steady yourself on the plush bed. You felt especially vulnerable like this, unable to see what he was doing without making a show of craning your neck, without showing your fear. He played with your hair for a moment before tracing his fingers down your spine, cresting at your tailbone where he began to greedily tug at the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head and off the leash before finally discarding it to the floor.

He leaned in over your back to smooth his hand up and down the curves of your waist, dipping forward to cup one of your breasts and tease your pebbled nipple. You could already feel his cock against your lower back, distinctly hardening in his jeans. He gave the leash another gentle pull, as if just to remind you that it was there.

"Look at the birthday girl, behaving so well on her new leash," He mused, pressing a wet kiss to the base of your neck. "So sweet for me, letting daddy play with you and make you feel good, huh?"

You nodded, melting at his touch and praises despite your better judgment. Without having to face him, it was easier than you expected to pretend this was normal. And maybe you did deserve a treat for your birthday, to be made to feel good for no other reason than as a celebration of your life.

Your life. Lately you didn't feel there was much to celebrate, but that was neither here nor there. If you closed your eyes, it was just another day. If you closed your eyes, you were back in your apartment. If you closed your eyes, Leon was only your well-meaning boyfriend who just so happened to be into kinky shit.

Now it was your shorts and panties being yanked down in one swift movement, bunching at your bent knees, but he didn't bother to fully remove them. He didn't need to. His clothed cock rutted impatiently against your exposed sex, sparking up that familiar wet heat of pleasure to begin building between your thighs. Suddenly you were the impatient one.

Lucky enough for you, you didn't even get a chance to complain before he was lowering to his knees at the end of the bed, burying his face between your legs to lap at your slick folds from behind. You let out a quiet whine and attempted to wiggle your hips closer to his affection-- he thought about yanking at your leash to tell you 'no,' but, hey... it was your birthday. So he let it slide.

His skilled tongue lapped at every drop of you, swirling and sucking at your clit and routinely wandering back to trace over your fluttering hole, determined not to let any of your arousal go to waste. Every little gasp and whine that fell from your lips served to spur him on, and now he was tugging at your leash just for fun, amused by the way you would choke a little bit and gasp for breath every time.

"Tastes so fucking good," He groaned into your cunt, the vibrations making you squirm and want for more. "Like candy. My own little puppy girl lollipop."

Eager as he was to fuck you right then and there, he couldn't stop himself from drinking you in like ice water on a hot day. You deserved it, after all, his sweet little puppy princess. So, in spite of himself, he took his time with you.

His free hand ghosted up the inside of your thigh to tease at your dripping hole, watching in awe as his own digit sank into you, and then another. He observed with stars in his eyes as your needy cunt seemed to suck him in deeper, only solidifying to him just how badly you really wanted it. More often than not, you would shy away whenever he initiated, but not today. Not on your birthday.

Leon curled his fingers up in search of that familiar spongy spot that made you cry out and go weak, your knees wobbling on the mattress as you readjusted your arms in an attempt to hold yourself up. It was cute, he thought, just how easy it was to make you fall apart at the seams.

"Daddy," You gasped out, slippery walls clenching tightly around his fingers. "Please, please..."

And again, typically he would make you verbalize what you wanted, if it were any other day. You could have asked him for practically anything right now and he would have given it to you, so he did.

"Alright, alright, sweetheart," He said, withdrawing his fingers from you to rise back up on his feet and discard his own clothing. "Can't keep the birthday girl waiting. That wouldn't be very nice, would it?"

"Mm-mm," You shook your head in agreement, trembling and wiggling your hips without even really realizing it.

He couldn't help but chuckle lowly at this, a smirk tugging at his face as his cock sprung free from his boxers with a quiet, wet slap against his navel. Giving himself a few gentle strokes just to ease the pressure, Leon pulled you up by your leash just a little bit to surprise you and ensure your attention before lining himself up at your entrance, fucking into you with an uncommon gentleness.

Your head was spinning, mouth falling open with a slow, pleasured mewl at the feeling of him splitting you open like that, every inch of him dragging deliciously against your inner workings until the head of him bumped against your cervix, giving you a little jolt. You were already panting for breath, your hair falling in front of your face and you couldn't even care enough to move it as he stilled inside you for a moment, reveling in the warm, tight cavern of you.

Then, with a soft groan, he began to rock into you. The bedroom was blooming with the scent of sex as your arousal only continued to grow, slicking his length with your juices.

"F-Fuck," You whined, head falling forward to rest lazily on the mattress and as a result, your legs spread just a little wider to accommodate the new position, allowing him to drive even deeper into you than you were expecting. Your face went red hot and you barely realized you were drooling a little bit as he gripped you by your hip and drove into you with ardor.

"That's right, pretty baby," Leon cooed, looping your leash around his knuckles a few more times just so he could see the fucked-out look on your face. "Feels so good, doesn't it?"

You nodded dumbly in place of a more proper response, knowing you could get away with it tonight. 

"Mhm, I know it does. Just look at you," He mused.

And in that moment, he decided he really wanted to just look at you. So he yanked at your leash harder than ever before, drawing you upright until your back was flush against his chest, his mouth right in your ear so he could kiss you and taunt you. The pace of his hips picked up speed as he continued to lose himself to the feeling of your plush walls and the sounds of your incoherent whining, your chest heaving for breath as the leash pressed on your throat just enough to make you feel a little tingly and weak.

His warm hand closed around your breast, kneading and playing and tugging at your nipple just to make you squirm. You were such a perfect little plaything.

“So cute… Just so fucking cute,” The words were growled out right into your ear and you clenched around him in response, face burning. “Maybe for my birthday this year, you can really make me a daddy. Give me a little baby just like you to fawn over and spoil.”

And sure, you knew it would be a terrible idea to agree to that, but… you weren’t exactly in the clearest state of mind right now. So you nodded, your head falling back to rest on his shoulder while he drove into you with a measured pace, his hand roaming down to rest on your stomach.

“Yeah? Gonna let me fuck a baby into you, sweet thing? You want daddy’s baby for your birthday?”

It was evident that he’d learned by now you could be especially pliant while otherwise distracted. You were crying out yes and please without even really thinking about it– or whole-heartedly agreeing with it, which he knew, but didn’t really care so long as it benefitted him in the end.

Your climax was fast approaching and he knew it, judging by the way you were pulsing around him and squirming in his tight hold, your breaths short and quick and your skin burning hot. With a knowing grin that you couldn’t see, he lowered his hand once more until the tips of his fingers found your engorged bud like muscle memory, rubbing tight circles with just the right amount of pressure that he knew would be enough to send you over the edge.

“There you go baby, c’mon,” He grunted into your ear, “Let go for me…”

The added stimulation had you twitching and shaking, your eyes screwed shut as you clawed at his arms for any sort of purchase. A string of curses and whines crested from your pouting lips until you began to convulse around him, a rush of arousal spilling out around his cock. The warm, wet feeling of you alone was enough to tip him over into his own end, and you were graced with the distinct feeling of his cock erupting into your waiting womb.

He rutted into you a few more gentle times, pressing a languid kiss to your cheek before dropping the leash, forcing you back down to the mattress by the back of your head. You whimpered and squirmed uncomfortably as you felt the gravity drive his load deeper into you, and it didn’t take a stroke of genius to discern he had done it on purpose.

“Better sit still like that, pup, let nature take its course,” Leon said as though it was obvious, taking a few steps back to admire the image of you. “Did you have a good birthday?”

You felt quite gross, sure, but all things considered… “Yeah, I-I did. Thank you, daddy…”

[sovietpostcards]

Russian State Library

The biggest library in Russia and one of the biggest in the world. It was designed in late 1920s, soon after the birth of the new Soviet state, and fully finished in the 1950s. In includes 4 buildings and one 19-floor book repository. There are several reading halls, a cafe, and a whole bunch of book-filled nooks and crannies.

I'm writing this post sitting in the library's biggest reading hall - Reading Hall No. 3. It was opened in 1957 and still retains most of the original furniture and design (only there are now individual power sockets in every desk). Most of the tables are occupied by people with books and laptops. It's very quiet.

The book depository is a huge building that rises high above everything else in this historical area. It had 10 floors originally, each 5m high, but later it was divided into 19 smaller floors. We visited one of the floors. I was impressed to see that the windows are made out of Falconnier glass blocks (made specially for the library in Gus Khrustalny).

There are two automated delivery systems in the library: one delivers readers' orders into the depository (pneumatic tubes) and the other delivers books back to the reader (monorail). We had a chance to see both of them in action, very impressive! They also kept a bit of the old book delivery system that worked from 1953 until 2015. I saw it on pictures before, and it was great to see the granny in real life. :) There are a lot of "grannies" in the library, from the green lamps to rotary phones to wall clocks. The pneumatic tube system has been in place since 1975. People whose job is to preserve books are very likely to preserve everything else.

I loved this anecdote. In one of the reading halls, there's a big painting of Lenin (pictured below). Apparently it was put in place in mid-1950s to cover the bas-relief that was there originally. On the bas-relief there are Karl Marx, Friedrich Engels, Vladimir Lenin and Joseph Stalin. After Stalin's death in 1953 and debunking the cult of personality, images of him were quickly removed from everywhere. The library, being true preservers of history, kept theirs but covered it up. It just shows what kind of people librarians are. :)

Although the library is working on running a full digital catalogue of all their 48 million items, if you want access to older editions you'll probably need to use the old paper card catalogue. The room gave me major nostalgy - I remember using this kind of catalogue in my local library when I was a kid. The sound of pulling out a narrow box, then the little built-in table, going through the cards one by one, writing down what you need on library cards. It was a whole process! Of course, the local library's catalogue was WAY smaller.

A few more shots of interiors. Although the building itself was designed in 1920s (during the era of avantgarde and art deco), the interiors were mostly done in 1950s when the main design style was neo classicism.

I enjoyed this tour immensely, so much so that I had to go back and get a library card so I can see more of it, sit in every reading hall and drink a cup of tea in the marble hall cafeteria. Also, the idea of 48 million books at the tip of my fingers makes me giddy. Thank you to my followers for the monetary support and making this real for me: K. T., H. W., T. B., m., @depetium, @transarkadydzyubin, S. R.

[webslingingslasher]

heyyy I was just wondering WHAT THE HELL DO YOU PUT IN THIS FRAT!PETER FICS BC I CAN'T STOP THINKING ABOUT TROUBLE AND PETER! I just melt for them together😭😩❤️

I swear when I'm about to fall sleep he just pops into my head and HAVE to grab my phone to reread some of them. Your writing is just soooo god and I wanted to thank you for creating such a work of art🥵🥵🥵

Also I can't stop thinking about frat!peter being jealous like finding a guy talking who hooked up with trouble and overthinking how different they are from each other? and if the ex fling keeps trying to talk with trouble in a friendly way, he would play it cool? i feel like he would look at them talking and he knows about what happen between them but is kinda nervous? idk

I LOVED BRUJA THANK YOU SO MUCH I HAVEN'T ENJOY READING LIKE THIS IN SOOO LONG🥹🥹🥹

first, peter and trouble are crack. second, thank you very much for enjoying!!!

---

peter knows what it looks like to awkwardly chat with an old hookup, he’s done it more than a few times. so, when he watches your eyes dance around the room while you politely laugh in response to the guy in front of you, he just knows.

he’s taller than peter, and he’s not one to be self conscious about his height, but he might now. and he’s got bigger biceps, peter’s spider-man and doesn’t have the build this guy does.

and he’s got nice hair. really nice hair. the kind of hair he knows you love. it’s like peters, but longer and a bit more curly. peter pats the hair on the back of his neck, he’s been growing it a little longer, but apparently not enough.

in a desperate attempt to keep your attention on him tonight, he takes his hat off to throw it on top of the fridge. you always beg him to take it off, it’ll work. he’s sure of it.

it doesn’t. you’re unable to stand still, if he was projecting, he’d say you went from awkward to uncomfortable. peter’s not going to be the guy to barge in, but he takes a step forward, just in case.

it’s like you can feel him, your eyes shoot to his across the room. no words are said or mouthed, but your eyes said enough. ‘help.’ its all he needs.

peter cuts the guy right off, slinging an arm low around your waist. a kiss to your temple, ‘hi, trouble.’ you relax into his touch, you hold on tight to his arm. ‘have you met tanner?’

he hasn’t, and he really doesn’t care to. it looks like tanner doesn’t either, they’re both sizing each other up. peter’s putting on a brave face, but he knows tanner's thinking he’s no competition, and peter can’t help but feel the same.

still, he throws a hand out. ‘sup, man. i’m parker.’ tanner shakes it, ‘sup.’ peter holds his hand a bit too tight, he’s trying to subtly prove that even if he was smaller, he could kick his ass if needed.

tanner asked peter how he knew you, he had to bite his tongue on the disrespect. he knew exactly how peter knew you, his possessive hold tells it all. ‘i’m her boyfriend.’

you dig your nails into his arm, you were caught off guard with the statement. he said it like it was obvious, tanner smirked. ‘ah, lucky man.’ peter really doesn’t like his face.

‘yup. sure am.’ you nudge back against him, peter takes it as a hint to get out of there. he couldn’t agree more. ‘wanna get a drink?’ you nod quick, 'yes, please.'

your 'boyfriend' made a small show of spinning you in his hold, you laughed at the twirl and balanced yourself on his shoulders. 'nice seeing you again,' you forgot who you were with for a second.

'you too, tanner! have a good night.' peter nudged your lower back to get you walking, you didn't make it four steps until you were pulled in for a bruising kiss. every thought melted away, there was only one person on your mind.

'peter,' it puffed out, just like your lips.

'trouble,' he said it like a greeting. you shook your head, leaning in for another, you were lucky tonight, he supplied.

'thanks, boyfriend.'

'that was a typo.'

you scoff. 'no it wasn't, that was you acting like you have one foot up so you don't feel as threatened.'

the choice of words make his skin crawl. peter knows it's not exclusive, exclusive. but he at least thought you both were on a similar page, one that didn't include saying 'so you don't feel as threatened.'

'what the fuck is that supposed to mean, trouble? so i don't feel as threatened? i was doing you a favor, but feel free to go entertain whoever you want, i'll do the same.'

peter's sudden aggression had your head spinning, you tried to grab onto his arm before he left you entirely. 'did i say the wrong thing? i didn't mean to say the wrong thing!'

'i didn't feel threatened until you said i should be. i just really don't like being reminded that i'm a choice you can change your mind on at any time, it's not a good feeling.'

sometimes when he says something to that effect, you want to tell him he could do something about it. sometimes, you let it go and remind him you're not looking for anyone else, if you were, you would've stopped putting up with his shit ages ago.

this is one of the times you put his fears at bay.

'look, peter, that guy, tanner? he's all talk, he seems like some cool guy but he really kind of sucks. in the least commitive way possible, boyfriend, there are no threats.'

'you keep talking about threats.'

'cause you have none!' you exhale deeply, 'i don't like anyone else, okay? and talking to other guys makes me wanna bash my head into a brick wall.'

'you talking to other guys also makes me want to bash my head into a brick wall.'

you grin and smooth out a wrinkle on peter's shirt. 'good, we're on the same page, then.'

peter throws an arm around your shoulder while he guides you to the kitchen.

'i'll deny it if you say anything, but i quite like reading at the same pace as you, trouble.'

[yawnderu]

Attention — Keegan P. Russ x Fem!OC

Using my queens @moosch's OC Nameless for a trade we made! Go check out her amazing drawing of K-9 as an OC and her art<3

Life works in mysterious ways. One day you're helping kill 500 enemies with your bare hands alongside your comrades, and the next one, you're cuddling up to a tiny brat rescued from no man's land 3 years ago.

Keegan's hold tightened on her, hand running gently up and down on her back as she returned the favor, a much smaller hand tracing lazy circles on his back while they laid next to each other. It was one of the few moments of peace they could get, both as touch starved as they come and with a need to keep someone close.

His mind was blank for once, void of all the gunfire and images of the devastating non-stop war, simply focusing on what another person's warmth felt for once. His lips lightly touched her forehead as his eyes closed, taking a deep breath and holding onto her like a lifeline, making sure not to hurt her. It doesn't take long for Keegan to fall asleep, relaxation taking over his body before he realizes it.

He wakes up to an empty bed, eyebrows furrowing slightly at the realization that Nameless is no longer by his side. He gets out of bed hesitantly, stomach rumbling as he makes his way to the kitchen. A small smirk tugs on his lips as he sees Nameless struggle to get something out of the cabinet, approaching her before anyone else does.

''Hey there, little one... need help with getting this from the top shelf?'' She tenses up when his warm, big hand makes contact with her head, hesitantly turning around to look up at him. All he can do is offer him a smile so kind and nice that instantly makes red flags go off in her head, though she gives him the benefit of the doubt.

Keegan grabs the box she was trying to get, holding it close to her before pulling it out of her reach when she tries to grab it. His smirk grows wider when he sees the expression on her face, a slight grimace mixed in with frustration at his annoying behavior. He only relents once he sees the frown on her face as she she's about to turn around and go tell Elias he's bothering her again.

''Wait.'' The bastard was clearly holding back his laughter at the fuming expression on her face, a few chuckles managing to escape out of his lips even when he was trying not to.

''Here.'' He offered her the box and this time— despite the temptation— didn't pull it away. He noticed the fishing rod hanging over her shoulder and the stare she gave him for a few seconds before grabbing the box. He simply nodded his head, starting to get ready himself, a rifle thrown over his shoulder. What kind of man would he be if he's not there to protect the young girl? Bullshit, he just enjoys being annoying.

He grabbed a book on the way out, knowing he'd just let her fish in peace while he's keeping watch, making sure no enemies sneak on them despite the area being relatively safe.

''Let's go.'' She follows after him, staying quiet the entire walk and simply looking everywhere around her. The area was surrounded by nature, enough to give them privacy and cover in case anything goes down. They make their way to a lake Nameless found on one of her many expeditions, Keegan sitting down near the shoreline as he watches her remove her shoes, soaking her feet in the water.

''A young girl walked to the witness stand.'' He began reading, her attention now on him as she tilted her head, looking at the book he was reading. To Kill A Mockingbird.

''As she raised her hand and swore that the evidence she gave would be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth so help her God, she seemed somehow fragile-looking,'' He looked at her with a small smirk, making her roll her eyes and a small chuckle to leave his lips as she got knees-deep into the water, trying to find fish she could miraculously catch with her hands.

''but when she sat facing us in the witness chair she became what she was, a thick-bodied girl accustomed to strenuous labor.'' There's a small smile on his face as he reads to her, voice deep and leveled to make it more pleasant.

''In Maycomb County, it was easy to tell when someone bathed regularly, as opposed to yearly—'' He's interrupted by water splashing, baby blue eyes looking up just to see her holding a big carp in her hands, a bright smile on her face as she looked at it as proud as one could be.

''Attagirl!'' He put the book away, leaning closer to ruffle her hair despite her silent protest, a smile on his face matching hers. Not even Keegan being annoying on purpose could ruin her happiness at catching the damn thing on accident.

''C'mon, I'll cook it. Think you can catch another one?'' Keegan's annoying smirk was all the motivation she needed to take the challenge.

[s0fti3w1tch]

TMNT POLLS PSA

I've explained this in my reblog tags of this post, please keep the TMNT polls fun and please be sure that the AU/Iteration/Fic creators are actually okay with being part of them.

**Not about polls I've been added in, but polls I've seen, and growing trends me and others have noticed. As always, please don't harass anyone.

Specifically the more popularity-poll-ish ones, ones that teeter on or are straight up serious, it can be discouraging for those who didn't ask for it. Some may fear speaking up about it because other people are having fun despite how they themselves feel about it. Especially when polls specifically put one well-known fanwork over a smaller one. Worse yet when you're dropped into it without awareness from beforehand. Hell, even when the creators have a similar size, it can hurt.

I've recently gotten some anon messages like this. Though I haven't seen that attitude in response to my AU in polls, it's the type of attitude I've seen towards a couple other creators.

Being publicly compared to others by hundreds, sometimes up to thousands, can be anxiety-inducing. As easy as it is to say that "the unpopularity of your work should not discourage you," truth be told, there's truth to the saying "comparison kills creativity."

To have your work being used to put down someone else? Someone who's working just as hard? Who's just trying to share an idea just like you? Or to be dismissed?

As stated by the authors of MMC and OMO, while it may seem like you're uplifting your favorite in this, it's awkward. It can be stressful.

For those with less votes, it's hard not to think that yours is being called "less than." An "I've never heard of the other one lmao" can feel like a punch in the gut.

There's also animosity towards more bigger fanworks because of the pedestal they've been put on.

All that, and not even wanting to be there in there first place.

These things should and can encourage creativity and growth. AUs crossing over, banter, propaganda posts, etc.

Around the time Tumblr first rolled out the poll function, I was included in The Night AU creator's Sep AU polls. Me and the poll creator, Ray, both got last place in 2 respective polls, hence why we call TN!Leo/Green and TD!Leo/Trainee the "Losers Duo." Key part being: there was the awareness that this was simply in good fun. And I enjoyed being included.

Getting to know the creators of The Night, Red Rover, Life Mission, Blood Bath, and SLAU was and still is an amazing experience. The amount of crossover art we've made is evident of how much I've loved its turnout. I'm still planning on making more crossover work in the future.

It was some of the most actual fun I've had in fandom since I was 12. I'm 20 by the end of the year.

TL;DR

Respect the boundaries of fanwork creators and don't be an asshole for fuck's sake.

[wulvercazz]

🐇 Bunny AU🥚 ~

Smutty sort of drabble, sort of headcanon rambling about the AU below💕 See the full uncensored art here~

Edit: had to make the berries biggER lmao is thIS BETTER MR TUMBLR?

In this AU Easter is handled by a species of humanoid rabbits who lay eggs (and a few subspecies I'll mention later on). Each generation a kit is born within the noble families with the ability to lay Easter eggs. (Normally, only pregnant bunnies lay one or two larger eggs.) This kit, then, is taught everything they need to know to inherit the job after the current Easter Bunny passes.

Grimmjow is one of the youngest to have inherited the job, but he is damn good at it, if you ask him. He has little complaints, really. Apart from laying a large clutch of smaller pastel colored eggs every month (which, ok, that can be a little tiring), his work is only actually hard in April; the rest of the year, he gets to have as much fun as he wants. Sure, the guards, and maids, and all the other servants (that the Oh So Wise Elders think he has to be babied by) fuss over him a bit too much, and follow him around a lot; and that gets annoying from time to time, but it still has its perks. Like, choosing his own personal guard himself.

His father wasn't so sure about his pick, but what could he do but accept The Easter Bunny's wishes? Ichigo was a rookie, and, as all guards, part of the subspecies of rabbits called 'Chocolate Bunnies'. Grimmjow thought it was a corny name at first, when he was a kid. But after years of being the only kit being tutored within the rooms of the Easter castle, and having the opportunity to watch the guards up close, he had to agree that it was actually pretty straightforward. All guards were chocolate bunnies. They always smelled like chocolate, and their fur was always warm toned; in colors that varied from off-white to dark brown. The reason he chose Ichigo, though, was simple: he wanted to have fun with him.

He got to attend the guards' initiation ceremonies (he had to attend ALL important ceremonies, really), which is where he saw him for the first time. It was a small event, pretty boring. He would've bailed, like he did most times; but once he saw the newbie he had to stay and learn his name. Now that he had him, he knew he'd made the right choice. Ichigo smells of the darkest melted chocolate, and his skin is warm all over. He has that newbie attitude still, a little too loud but worried to do the wrong thing. He was blushing the brightest red when his superior brought him to his office; asked twice or thrice if they were sure they had the right guy.

Ichigo’s first impression of Grimmjow was... that he's not what he expected. The Easter Bunny looked proper, composed, handsome and just overall cool from afar. He always dressed nice as it was customary. But from up close, Ichigo could really see how young he was; maybe his own age, or barely a couple years older than him at most. As close as he could stand now, inside his office, while he watched him work, he looked as serious as you’d expect the Big Boss to be; the second he removed himself from work though? He smirked cockily, and played around too much. 

He liked lighter clothing, comfortable shorts and soft fabrics he used to lounge around his room. Which he isn’t supposed to be in, as a guard, but of course Grimmjow had insisted he do so. He couldn’t say no. What he seemed to enjoy the most, however, was to mess with his job. Ichigo wasn’t sure if it was a test of sorts, challenging his determination see how long he could keep his head cool. As time went on, he wasn’t so sure anymore. Sometimes the taller bunny would stand too close (not that that bothered him anymore), and he’d whisper into his ear. Even after a month of being his guard, that still never failed to send chills down his spine. And worst was, he’d whisper things he’d never expected from him; he’d make fun of the other nobles, how uptight they were how ridiculously they’d dress for appearances sake. He’d tell him gossip he’d learned about them, and often it was hard not to break and laugh.

It wasn’t all bad though, he didn’t hate his job as much as he thought he would when it all started. He realizes now that maybe he took it too seriously, and probably that’s what had Grimmjow so amused. Back then Ichigo had tried to take his job with honor, be the best guard he could be for him; but Grimm made it very hard. He had to escort him places sometimes, when he was needed, and Grimm would always try and bail. Sometimes going as far as to try and take him with. Grimmjow wouldn’t be punished, of course, no more than a quick talk with the Elders, but him? Ichigo could lose his post all together.

Grimm only grinned mischivious little smiles at him. He used to get pissed off every time, try his best to convince Grimmjow not to bail, take his job seriously...it never worked, of course. Ichigo only let go of that seriousness a little after the second week on his post. Grimmjow was in his room, napping and swollen with eggs as he was every so often. In those days he didn’t leave his room much, so he’d never seen him pregnant before he became his guard. It was a whole new part of him. He seemed sleepy all day, a little grouchy maybe. He was standing there with him, inside his room as he so much insisted he did.

“Com’ere, I don’t bite.”

Maybe not, but standing in his room was too much already, he shouldn’t be getting so chummy with his Boss. Grimmjow wouldn’t take no for an answer, of course; stood up slowly and stumbled a little. When Ichigo caught him though, and his face was so close to his own; Grimmjow was smirking like a cat. Played again. How he ended up sitting on his bed and with Grimm’s head on his lap, he wasn’t sure. 

Grimmjow didn’t seem like he was playing anymore though. He seemed to sleep, but soon enough his voice startled him again. “Stay with me, will you? When I’m... like this? No one gets close to me on these days, like I’d break.”

Huh...

“They don’t even care about me, only about what I can do.” 

It cleared up a lot of things for Ichigo. So he let go of some of that seriousness he’d been taught to earn his title of noble guard, put on some more empathy for Grimmjow’s sake. He still played him, after that; as was expected. Still teased him and made him lose his cool in public for his own amusement... and he still got a little pissed of at him. Grimmjow liked to pretend that he’d never opened up to him. But he could work with that, for as long as Grimm needed.

He's lost count of how long he’s been his guard now. They’ve fallen into a comfortable maybe-friendship, and he knew pretty much all he had to about Grimmjow and his job and how to be the best guard for his needs. He’d learned how to convince him to attend the meetings he’d usually bail out of. He knew all his secret hide-outs where to find him at whenever he did run away. But most importantly, he’d gotten really good at reading him; at knowing when he needed peace and quiet, when he wanted someone to scream at just for the sake of screaming. It was only natural that he’d become so attached to him, and before he realized, Grimm’s skin on his shocked him every time and his eyes filled him with warmth. But that was a line he couldn’t cross.

It was especially hard to stop when Grimmjow became even more bold; touched his neck, played with his hair just to see him blush. He knew. He had to know.

“Who cares?” Fuck, Grimmjow was as unfazed as he always was. “I want you, and you clearly want me too.” 

He shouldn’t have. He shouldn’t have given in. But how could he not? When Grimmjow called for him and received him sitting by his window, bathed by the warmth of the morning sun, in nothing but a thin shirt. When he held him tight and was rough and assertive about what he wanted. He’d laughed again, at the heat in his face and neck and ears; teasing him until he pushed him back into his bed. Grimmjow smirked that childish smile of his, that he always wore when he got his way. He held his waist, and his thighs and pinched his chest and let Grimm scratch and bite and pull at his hair as much as he wanted.

He couldn’t even be worried about his superior, or Grimmjow’s father finding out, or even the Elders; when he laid naked in his bed with Grimm in his arms. Fast asleep. After hearing him moan, and pant and scream. And pretty much every day after that, whenever Grimmjow felt like it, when he had time off work, and even when he didn’t but he wanted to get away. Grimm even made him scream and cry out a couple times as he rode and teased him; those times always made him worry someone would definitely hear him. Grimmjow only continued to cause problems for him; but he really didn’t mind.  If he could continue to hold him, and see every part of him, then he’d take whatever problems that came with it.

🌸🐇🌸 

[netherfeildren]

Someone's Wife in the Boat of Someone's Husband .7

Series Masterlist : Moodboard

(Joel Miller x F!Reader)

Content Warnings: Angst, Discussions of child abandonment, Discussions of child neglect; Family dynamics; Mention of abortion; Jealousy; Possessive behavior

Rating: Explicit 18+

A/N: There are much happier times ahead after this, I promise. I hope you enjoy <3

Word Count: 6.8K

Read on AO3

.7

Grief is different. Grief has no distance. Grief comes in waves, paroxysms, sudden apprehensions that weaken the knees and blind the eyes and obliterate the dailiness of life. 

Joan Didion, The Year of Magical Thinking

As the turn of the season marches its way into the city, the leaves bloom the crisp, bright colors of autumn. Austin comes alive with the burning colors of fall: reds and oranges and yellows, so beautiful. It makes you feel nothing. You usually love the change of the weather into the colder months, but this year it all feels – meaningless. Empty – like you. 

And yet, life continues, work continues, and at the end of October you and your fellow art teacher plan a field trip to one of the city's parks for the children to paint the colors of the changing leaves. It should be something to look forward to, despite the stress of having to organize a group of twenty first graders and wrangle them in a large, open space, you usually look forward to things like this. You love your job, it’s always made you happy, but somewhere along with the part of you that he’d stolen away, you’d slowly gone by losing other smaller parts of yourself, discarding them in the wake of your grief. Your ability to smile, to enjoy the things that had always previously made you happy, all gone away with him. All you can focus on now is how much you miss him. How much you hate all the decisions you’ve ever made, and how much you resent your history, your parents, for leaving you this broken, wanting thing that could not seem to find happiness – that would not let yourself be happy. No matter how hard you try.

But above the wailing cacophony of your grief, your longing for him ringing in your ears, there is the overwhelming resounding cry of your past screaming at you: you can’t let this go, you can’t let this go, you can’t let us go. Your parents, their history, the tragedy of their demise, the painful solitude of your childhood, the sight of your father wasting away for years and years and you, a child, unable to do anything, unable to help him, to save him, to bring her back so that he could be okay. 

But you also can’t let him go. It was, you now knew, an impossibility. As futile as forgetting your own name, how to breathe, how to be alive. Holding on to him now is an intrinsic part of you that you’re sure you’ll live with for the rest of your life. 

And so, the real question now is, what are you more willing to hold on to? But no, that isn’t right either, the better question is: what do you have to hold on to? What do you need to survive? What can you not live without? What would leave you only half a person if you were to let it go – the past or him?

You’re sure you know the answer, but are only too afraid to admit that all you’d put the two of you through throughout all this, had been pointless. So pointless and so needlessly painful. 

All you want now is to talk to him. No, you don’t even have to talk. If you could just get the chance to see him, even if from a distance, it would make everything better. You just want to see that he’s okay, that he’s not as miserable as you are. That he hasn’t been left as desolate as you seem to have ended up. 

The day is gorgeous, despite your mood, and the class has been good so far, calm and cooperative. The kids all sitting across picnic blankets you’d spread out on the grass amongst the fallen leaves. They’re all chattering and painting, engrossed in their task, when you hear your name being shouted from across the park in a high pitched little voice, and like a fucking revelation from above or your worst nightmare, your deepest desire come alive from the bottom of your heart – there they are. Sarah, running at full speed towards you from the far side of the park. Joel stalking a few paces behind her – his face like stone. You start to move towards them in a daze. 

You take in the sight of him from afar – massive, so tall, and so beautiful. His hair is longer, his dark curls brushing the back of his collar and curling along his temples. Weeks since you’d last seen him, since he’d last touched you, since that horrible moment in that restaurant bathroom. Your cunt clenches, empty and desperate, around nothing, just at the sight of him. He has on a dark green flannel that brings out the warmth in his eyes, you can see it, even from all the way over here. He looks so big, so strong, and you have a sudden, savage vision of him forcing you to the ground right here, in the middle of the park, and taking you for himself, forcing your legs open and ravishing you. Your head goes slightly woozy, dizzy, at the intensity of it, and you stumble, holding your hand out towards Sarah. You can see his eyes tracking your movements, your unsteadiness. His cheeks are bright red, flushed with the crisp autumn air, or perhaps, with anger. 

She squeals your name as she runs towards you, throwing herself into your legs, wrapping her arms around you when she slams into you. Your breath whooshes out of you at the impact, and you’re forced to take a step back as her body rocks into yours. Careful, Sarah. Be gentle, he calls.

 “Sarah,” you gasp, “Hi, baby. How are you?”

“I missed you,” she says, and her face is so sincere, so full of genuine happiness at seeing you, despite the fact that she’d only met you a couple times, that it brings tears to your eyes now, but you aren’t sure what kind of tears they are. Perhaps, from the pain of seeing your past self reflected in her fervor. The devastation of being confronted with him again. The most sublime elation because look at this little girl and how special and wonderful she is, and she’s happy to see you. She’s so in need of the attention and comfort of a maternal figure, and she reminds you very, very much of yourself at her age. It breaks your heart to feel her innocent desperation. You cannot even consider looking up at her father, you know that if you do, you’ll break down entirely, sobbing at his feet, begging him to forgive you, to love you back as much as you love him. “We– we should go play in the water again. I liked it so much when we did that. I had so much fun.” There’s such earnest pleading in her voice, but it gets just the tiniest bit smaller and quieter when she says the last part, as if she’s unsure if you’ll feel the same, if you’ll reciprocate her feelings. You close your eyes and take a deep breath in through your nose and let it out through your mouth as you hug her closer to you.

When you open your eyes again and look down at her upturned face your voice is slightly steadier, “We can go whenever you want, sweet pea. I had so much fun, too,” but you lose the battle at the end, voice cracking slightly. You can feel his hovering presence at your periphery like a blazing inferno, demanding attention, and you finally look up at him.  He has a slightly unhinged look in his eyes, taking you in from head to toe, gaze manically roving your form, like a man starved, parched – desperate and ravenous. 

“I had to go to the doctor,” Sarah says. “Look,” she shows you a bandaid on her little bicep, “I got a Sailor Moon sticky, but it hurt really bad.”  She pouts and you rub her hair, cooing at the small hurt. 

You look back up at him then, “Joel,” you croak. He doesn’t say anything, and you can see a slight tremble in the lines of his arms. He turns his face away from you, looking across the park, and you watch the ripple of muscles in his throat as he swallows several times, the flare of his nostrils as he takes his own set of deep, calming breaths. “Please, say something,” you beg. 

You hate the look in his eyes, you hate it, you hate that you’re the reason he looks like this right now. He doesn’t deserve this. He deserves your love. He deserves to be loved. He’d told you once that you weren’t some secret to be kept, hidden, that you deserved to be cherished out in the open, you realize, in this instant, that he deserves the same, and that what you’re doing to him is wrong. But how to stop it? How to change the most integral part of your mind, of your belief system, and that which it all hinges on, your past, your history? An impossible feat. 

“What are you doing here?” he finally says. His voice is rough and deep, and the mere sound of it makes everything deep in your tummy clench painfully. 

You’re still hugging Sarah to yourself, and she tightens her arms around you, looking up between the two of you as if she can tell that something isn’t right. “Field trip.” You hook your thumb back towards where your kids are still being watched over by the other chaperones. 

He finally turns back to look at you, and the fire in his eyes is terrible for all the desperation and pain you recognize in it. “It’s been weeks,” he whispers.

“I know.” You rub Sarah’s shoulders gently, feel her nuzzle into your thighs. 

“I went to look for you at the school.”

“I know.” Your voice sounds almost like a cry. Despite everything, despite telling you that this was hurting him, he’d still come to look for you again. He hadn’t given up on you, no matter how many times you’d pushed him away.

“I knew you’d seen me,” and he looks so hurt as he says it, that it sends a spear of fire through your chest. You can tell he’s holding on to his control by tenterhooks, trying his best not to let his anger out and scare you or Sarah. An irrational part of you wishes he’d lose control, throw you over his shoulder and force you to go with him. 

“Daddy?” Sarah’s little voice.

“Are we just never going to speak again? Is this the way you want it to stay?”

“No,” you croak, “I don’t– I don’t know,” a violent shake of your head, “I mean– yes, of course we are. I just can’t do this right now.” Your kids are waiting for you. You’re supposed to be working right now, not watching the rest of your future crumble brick by brick before your eyes, the only thing you’ve ever truly wanted for yourself angry beyond words at you. He scoffs, runs a shaking palm over his mouth and beard. 

You hear the other teacher call your name from behind, and as he comes up next to you, he puts a hand on your shoulder, perhaps sensing the tension or a fight brewing. “Everything alright over here?” he asks you gently, not sparing a glance at Joel. 

The entire right side of Joel’s face spasms furiously. “We’re in the middle of a fucking conversation here,” he spits, taking an aggressive step forward, eyes zeroed in on the hand touching you. You shrug it off immediately.

“Joel–” you warn, at the same time that Sarah’s high, anxious voice cries, “Daddy, why are you mad?” Her voice seems to snap him out of it, he looks down to her, his eyes going slightly wider for a second before he squeezes them shut and shakes his head once, quick. 

“I’m not, baby. I’m sorry–”

“I’m fine, thanks,” you murmur to your coworker. “Can you give us a minute? I’ll be right there.”

As he retreats, you say again, “I can’t do this now, Joel. But maybe–”

He shakes his head, ignoring you, crouching down to Sarah’s level. “Let’s go home, baby.” He places a gentle palm on her slight back. You can see the tremble of his hand, and it makes a sharp pain start up behind your left eyeball. 

“No, I don’t want to go with you!” she says muffled into your thighs.

“Sarah, baby, please. We need to go home,” he begs her. 

“Joel–” He continues to ignore you. 

“I don’t want to go yet,” she looks up at you, her little face pleading, “I want to stay with you, please.” Her eyes are starting to fill with tears. “Don’t you want me to stay with you? You said you had fun with me.” The tears start to fall, your own pool in your eyes.

“Sarah, it’s okay, baby. We’ll play another time,” there’s a begging lilt in your voice too. What are you doing? This is all your fault, you’re hurting the both of them. 

Joel stands to his full height now, finally meeting your eyes again, and his voice is hard and angry, patience come to an end as he says, “Sarah, it’s time to go. Say goodbye. I’m not gonna ask you again.”

“No! I don’t want to go with you! You’re being mean!” She turns her tear streaked face to him now, pulling on your clothes as if trying to scramble up your body. “Please, Daddy, please, I want to stay here.”

He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, “Sarah, please.”

“Why do I never get to play with girls? Where’s mommy? Why hasn’t she come back? I’m tired of just being with you, Daddy!”

He flinches at that. If you hadn’t been watching him so closely, you’d have missed it. If you hadn’t memorized his face so well, you wouldn’t have seen the muscle under his left eye twitch. He freezes as she starts to sob loudly, and you’re at a loss, writhing in agony for the both of them. 

He crouches down again at the sound of her very real and anguished sobs, and his voice is gentle and coaxing again, when he says, “Let’s go home, baby girl. It’s alright, come on. I’ll get you an ice cream. How does that sound? With the rainbow sprinkles we like, okay?” He pries her off you gently, not turning to look at your face again, taking extra care to not touch you even a little bit, but you feel the heat of his hand against your thigh as he grabs her, and it has a jagged shock moving through you. You desperately wish he’d take you with him too.

He wraps her in his arms and picks her up, “I’m sorry, Daddy,” you hear her sniffle as she hides her face in his neck, a safe place. You wish you could hide from the world there too. 

“I know, baby.” He rubs soothing strokes along her back as she wraps her little arms around him to clutch at his hair. 

“When’s mommy coming back?” she mumbles as they walk away. He does not turn back to you. 

-

The encounter in the park makes everything worse. Much, much worse. Like your heart had been ripped clean out of your chest that day and had gone off with Sarah and Joel, leaving you behind to float in the rotten pool of your misery. 

“I heard a strange rumor recently.” Your mother’s voice, soft but discerning, comes through the phone – first call in six months. It makes dread coil in your belly. Nothing good ever follows that tone. 

“Oh? What’s that?” She doesn’t call often, but when she does, it’s usually to ask for something, you’d already promised to send her a few hundred dollars, or to share news of a new boyfriend or trip or something equally self involved.

“You remember my friend Betty? From when you were growing up – she lived down the street from us. Well, she’s in Austin now too, has been for some time–” Fuck, “And you wouldn’t believe, but her daughter’s a doctor now, there in Austin too, very impressive.” She’d always hated that you’d become an art teacher – not glamorous enough for her. “Maybe you remember her, too? Little blonde thing, very cute… and well, she said she was at a birthday party recently,” No, no, no, no, please, no. “And she said she’s almost sure she saw you looking pretty cozy with some man, who she has on good authority, is married.” There is a sharp and cruel vein of satisfied glee in her voice, “And you know, I really couldn’t believe it when she said so, and I told Betty, ‘My daughter? She’d never get herself involved with a married man.’ I mean, you’ve always cast me as the worst sort of woman for leaving my own unhappy marriage for another man. So, how could it be that my saintly little girl has now fallen into my own footsteps? I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it?” You’re shocked speechless. Of course, of course, she’s found some way to hear about this. She’s always had a way of finding out everything about you, as long as you’d go without speaking or seeing each other, she always finds a way of sniffing out the things in your life you want to keep hidden from her, as much as she claims she doesn’t care what you do or what becomes of you. “Nothing to say?” she croons.

“It–” your throat is tight, filled with tears already, confessing this to her will break you in a way you don’t think you’ll be able to recover from. “It’s not like that – it’s not like… you,” I’m not like you, I’m not, I’m not. “It wasn’t something– something done purposely,” you whisper. “It just happened.”

She laughs at that, long and loud, “Yes, well… it usually does happen like that. Unintentional. One doesn’t often set out to ruin a life, do they? Sometimes it just happens, I suppose, no? What do you think?”

“I haven’t – I haven’t ruined a life,” you blink furiously, shaking your head even though she can’t see you.

“Oh, no? You’ve always taken yourself to be so high and mighty – always so holier than thou, and now? What? You’ve ended up just like me. Brought low, down to my level, after you’ve always judged me so harshly. How does it feel? To have ended up just like me? Scum like mommy.”

“I didn’t ask to be this…” you cry, “This– this hideous thing I’ve turned myself into–” like a creature of cracked skin and painful faultlines, “But this is what you made me, this is all you left me with, an inability to escape you, an inability to have a normal relationship.” You know she can hear the tears in your voice, and that she’ll be all the worse for it, crueler for subjecting her to your weakness, but you can’t help it. She hates it when you cry, your tears have always reminded her of her own weaknesses.

“Baby girl, that’s just what you tell yourself to make yourself feel better. And sure, if it helps… if it works, go on. You tell yourself that. But you’ve made your own choices. I can’t be held at fault for what you do with your life.”

“I’ve never seen anything else but the wrong kind of love. A– a  painful kind of love–” you think of your past words to Joel – his worry that he and Eva had only ever given Sarah the wrong example of what it is to love, and your reassurance that the love he gave her was all that mattered. You’d never had that, you’d never had that sort of steady, reassuring presence that he was able to provide his daughter, and so how could you have turned out any way other than gnarled and wrong? And yet something in you rebelled at that thought, for you felt, deep inside, that despite the circumstance, the way you felt about Joel was anything but wrong. If anything, it was the only thing in your life that made sense, the only thing that was truly right. “How could I have turned out any other way…?”

She’s quiet for a moment after that, and when she speaks again, the venom in her voice is gone, and the mother you hold so sacredly in your memory, the one she only lets you see on occasion, makes a rare appearance. Her voice gentled now, she says: “I know… I know it wasn’t always right, that I wasn’t always right,” she huffs a breath of laughter and it sounds… almost sad, “But I did love you.” Did love – the past tense spears you through the heart and silent tears drip down your chin, “I’m sorry that I’ve made you believe otherwise, but I did.” And you know, part of you recognizes the truth in her words, despite the pain they bring, you know that she had loved you, she’d just never known how to show you – it was always the wrong way, the wrong kind of love, but it was love. The love of a mother who’d never really wanted to be a mother. 

“I know,” you tell her quietly. 

You were always fighting with her in your sleep. Unable to let the wound close. But you were so tired, you needed to let it go, you now thought. You needed to move on, couldn’t let it rule your life and your relationships anymore. 

You can’t help but think that a broken home is such a funny and strange thing that spits out equally funny and strange people. At once, fractured, disjointed, painful, but at the same time, still a family, still desperate for all those things that make a family, a family. Despite not really knowing what that truly means. Still held together by that obligation of blood, love, need, childhood. Something inescapable, and even yet, in many ways, unbreakable. For you can never truly break a thing like that. It would always live with you, in some manner. You would never be able to forget it, and even if you cast it away, left it behind, forgave, memory was not a thing so easily let go of. It would stay with you regardless of what you did or who you became. Keep its claws in you. But you didn’t think you had to let it rule you anymore, subjugate you. You could forgive your parents for their faults and their let downs, for being human, for being bad parents. If you could not forget, then you could forgive, let go, move on, stop letting their memory dictate you.

She was never a good mother, but she was still your mother, and you’d always known that despite everything, you’d always loved her anyways. You always would. 

You wonder what it was about some women who were able to find such comfort, purpose, stability in motherhood, as opposed to others who saw it only as a prison, a grave. Was it paradox, nature, nurture, personality, fate? Nothing meaningful at all, no reason, it just was? You wished there was a set equation that could tell you what you would be, who you would be, what kind of mother you would turn into, were you to become one. 

And then, in opposition – the plane of fatherhood and all it entailed. What was it that made a man a good and caring father, as opposed to one who drank themselves to death, and left their already very alone child, even more alone? What was it to have a good mother and a bad father or vice versa? To have both of the same? What were the implications, and what sort of creature would it turn you into once their influence had been wrought upon you?

What were the implications of having had bad parents, and then, when the time came for you to become one yourself, wanting desperately to be a good one? How did you do that when you’d had only poor examples? 

How did you escape faithlessness?

You had to wonder, would your father have always become what he had, even if she had never done what she did, if your mother had never left, never been unfaithful? You didn’t think that you could cast all the blame on her anymore. After all, a marriage was a strange and intimate thing, only looked upon in its true form by the two people within it. No one could turn a thing into something it was never meant to be. No one could turn you into someone you didn’t already have within you. This was true for yourself, as well. You supposed, the same could even be said for Joel and Eva. People were what they were. Nature versus nurture, again and again and again. 

You had been so staunchly stuck upon the fact that you couldn’t be the thing to break their marriage apart, when he’d told you, time and time again, that there was already nothing to be broken, that there had never been anything to break in the first place. The marriage, too, had always been what it was. Had you, in your fear and fractured history, tried to make it into something that it had never been for fear of it turning you into that very history you were so frightened of? There were different realities to category, different things held different significance and not everything was the same in perpetuity. 

Categories, labels, titles – husband, wife, lover, mother, father, daughter – was it all useless fodder people ascribed to a thing to be able to bend a person or a feeling to their will? You didn’t think you could tell anymore. The ideas that had always been so securely held in your mind seemed to have all been shifted askew by a man who, in his own right, was beyond category. A title did not make a thing real. But love – that was its own category, of this you were sure. That was a pillar all on its own, its own realm which opened up possibilities and necessities that you were now coming to realize were uncontainable. 

And so, what of you and Joel? Did that count for nothing merely because of a lack of category for what you two had? No. Impossible. Because in many ways, what existed between the two of you was a marrying of your very souls, a melding of them – as if he’d stolen it straight out of your chest. Its own category ascribed to its position in your reality, and thus directing all your actions for the simple fact that you were in love with him, and it could not be swallowed any longer. 

What is it to feel before category? 

Were the labels useless until there was feeling behind them?

All your life labels, titles, promises, promises, promises had never meant a single thing to anyone around you. Not your parents' promises to each other: husband, wife; not their promises to you: mother, father, daughter, family. None of it had ever meant anything, so how could you ever be expected to have faith in the promise of category? 

How did you escape faithlessness? How?

You and Joel loved each other – real. That was its own category, its own faith, in a way. The feeling behind category.

What was it to feel before category? Possibility.

What was it to feel after category? Promise.

There was a real sort of promise in love – no guarantee, surely, for love could be wrong, but intention, for it could also be right. Joel and Sarah and everything he’s done solely for her sake – committing himself to a marriage he’d not wanted, had known would never work. There was a promise in that. A father telling his daughter that he would do anything to give her what a child could need: a family, a home, togetherness, security. He’d sacrifice anything for that. 

You’d always known you recognized something in him, but what was that thing? You’d thought that you couldn’t say, or didn’t want to say, didn’t want to admit it, for too long. Part terror, definitely, part desire, unfortunately –  most horrifying of all, and that which had been your first realization where he was concerned: yourself, kindredness. You saw yourself in him – a great and unbearable knowing. The two of you were the same. And so, it was only then, love. And oh, there it was. Perhaps you could admit it after all. 

For at the end of everything, the simple reality you were now forced to accept was that to know was to love, and you’d known Joel from the first first moment you’d met him, as he’d known you. A thing was what it was, and no matter what category you tried to force it into, it would remain as it had been born as. Recognition was, you thought, what ascribed value, what made the decision in the end. 

-

“You’re cold, Joel. You push people away, hold them at arm's length.” Hours of this interminable back and forth between the two of them. His temples were throbbing. All he wanted to do was fall face first into bed and not resurface until tomorrow morning. But she was getting at something – restless and coiled all day – she was getting ready to make her decision. Eva was leaving.“What woman would ever want to stay for that? You aren’t unlovable… you just won’t let yourself be loved.” He shakes his head at that, not looking at her. Not true, he wants to say. Despite everything, he still thinks there’s a part of you that loves him, you love him, you love him, he knows it. Even if you can’t let yourself be with him, or don’t want to be with him. “And anyways,” she continues, “It was never supposed to be me. I was never supposed to be the one to love you, we both know that. It was never us. We never had a chance. We never loved each other.”

“Did we ever even like each other?” sardonic – and she laughs, high and rueful, at that. 

“You know what your real problem is?” Her voice takes on that especially vicious tone she likes to use sometimes, the one that makes his bones itch inside the confines of his skin. “You’re selfish, Joel. You– you just want me here–”

Now that makes him laugh.“I’ve told you many times… you’ve got no obligation to me, Eva.” He sits heavily on the sofa, elbows braced on his spread knees, staring unseeingly ahead. He thinks that his voice sounds so tired, so unlike the sort of man he wishes he was, a creature he hardly even recognizes anymore. “If you wanna go, then go. I won’t stop you. I won’t hold you back. I won’t resent you for it. I won’t turn our daughter against you afterwards. I’ll respect your decision.”

“That’s not true! You forced my obligation to the two of you when you let me come back. You should’ve never taken me back, you knew it wasn’t what I really wanted. I–”

He shakes his head, “You’re talkin’ nonsense. You can’t cast the blame of your guilt on me because I– I– what? Because I let you come back into our daughter’s life after you abandoned her? That makes no fuckin’ sense, and you know it.” He points a finger down the dark hall towards the room where Sarah sleeps, peaceful and unaware. “You will always have an obligation to that little girl – no matter how far you go or what you do or what you think of me. You will always have an obligation to her. Even if you don’t see it through… even if you leave – it’ll always be there, by virtue of the simple fact that you’re her mother, and no matter how badly you’d like to escape that, you never can.”

“You think I wanted to give up my freedom again? Once I’d gotten it back? But I– I, I felt so – like I was supposed to be here – like it’s what the world expected of me. So here I fucking am – miserable and stuck with you.”

“Evie, darlin’, I’ve never wanted you miserable,” he says softly, reverting back to that nickname he sometimes called her, when they were trying especially hard to get along, when things weren’t, in the rare occasion, so terribly fraught between them. “I told you from the very start of all this, that what happened would be up to you. The decisions were yours to make, and I’d support you in whatever you wanted. I never wanted to force you to do anything you didn’t want to.”

“Well, I didn’t want to have a baby with you!”

He clenches his jaw tight. “Then you shouldn’t have.” He is trying very, very hard to keep a controlled grip on his anger.

“So, what, I should’ve gotten an abortion? Is that what you would have preferred? Gotten rid of her?” He feels very close to rage, hearing her talk of Sarah like this, but he forces deep breaths in and out of his lungs. Tries to remain calm and rational. 

“If that’s what you wanted – I told you that if that was what you wanted I’d have supported you.”

She laughs, cruel and broken. “Please, you would’ve fucking hated me.”

“And?” That wipes the jagged smirk off her face. “I wouldn’t have – I would’ve understood, of course I would have – we were fucking strangers, but even if I did hate you – what the fuck does it matter? I didn’t even know you. What would it have mattered?”

She’s silent at that, almost stunned, for it’s the truth. They’d been complete strangers then. In many ways, they still were now, even after the birth of a child together, after three years of marriage. They didn’t really know each other, not in the intimate or tender ways that made up a real marriage. 

“That wasn’t an option for me.”

“I know. And I accepted that.”

“You should’ve never asked me to marry you.”

His eyes flutter shut, frustration surging again. “I felt it was the right thing to do at the time.”

“But now?”

“What do you want? You want to hear that I regret it? That this was the worst mistake of my life? You want me to tell you that I’ll stay with you forever? What do you want to hear? I don’t– I don’t know how to make this better for us anymore.” He is terrified that his most terrible and painful truth is that he would force himself to remain trapped in this purgatory with her, despite everything else, for Sarah. He is the man that he is, after all. One who is acutely aware that when you try to force yourself into a shape you were never meant to be, it turns you into an angry thing – embittered, cruel, despondent. It’s what they had done to each other. 

She goes quiet, almost deflates, “No. I’m miserable. You’re miserable. You’re in love with another woman.”

He can’t say anything at that – the mention of you in this terrible space they’re creating with their words and their anger feels wrong. You don’t belong here. Although, he has the sudden flash of a thought that part of him wishes very much that you were here right now anyways, sitting in that chair in the corner, if only so that he could turn to look at you, find comfort and strength in your warm gaze. All he can do is nod. 

Suddenly, all the fight and venom seems to leak out of her, and she says very quietly, very sadly: “I don’t want to be with you for the rest of my life, trapped here in this place I never should have ended up in, in the first place. I don’t want to be here at all.” 

He nods, “It’s your decision. I won’t condemn or judge you for it.”

“Wouldn’t you like to make any decisions for yourself? 

“I made my decisions. I’m living with them now.”

“You sound like you’re being punished.”

“Maybe in some ways I am.” You don’t want to be with him anyways, what difference does it make?

“Wouldn’t you like to decide to be with her? Because honey, with three of us it’s a sideshow. You think I don’t know how you feel about her? That I haven’t seen the way you look at her? I’ve known since the start, and I’m glad for you.” And he knows that despite all the rest, she is sincere in this. 

“Just three?” he laughs, ignores the rest. “Surely there’s more of us than that.”

“Oh, suddenly you’re funny?”

“You really think there’s anything about this I find funny?” he spits, anger surging up inside of him again, hot and bright. “I suppose it’s laughable. We sure have turned ourselves into one big fuckin’ joke. But I don’t think we’re the ones that should be laughing.”

“No… you’re right… we’ve turned each other into such sad and terrible creatures,” she says then. 

“Maybe. If so, I’m sorry for that. It’s not what I wanted.”

“No– me either. None of this was.” And he knows she means Sarah. She’d never wanted Sarah, but he can’t focus on that now or perhaps, ever. Sometimes it was just easier to not look at a thing, to swallow it and pretend it’d never existed. He closes his eyes and brings a shaking hand up to drag down his face. 

“This is a broken marriage,” she says. 

And he knows it is true. “Yes.”

“No true marriage at all.”

“No.”

“It is no great loss.”

“But it still hurts.” Also the truth. It hurts him for his daughter, for the breaking of a family – even theirs, as elusive or damaged as it was. 

“Only because you hate to fail at anything.” There is so much resentment in her eyes, and he can’t tell whether it’s for him or for herself or for the entire fractured thing. He so wishes that he could have done things differently, that things had happened differently. But then, if things had happened differently, he, perhaps, would not have Sarah now, and she was worth all of this, she had always been worth all of this.

He shakes his head. “Because we have a daughter together.” He feels so interminably sad for the both of them. For all they cannot and have not had. For all Sarah will not have.

“Was it really ever together? She’s yours. She’s always been more yours than she ever was mine. I don’t feel bad or wrong saying that. Some women aren’t meant to be mothers. Some women have children when they aren’t meant to be mothers. This is not a sin. I am not made evil by my lack of maternal instinct. I love her. I do. Despite whatever you may think, I do, I always have. But I was never supposed to have children. I was never supposed to be a mother. It was never in my nature. And anyways, it’s why she has you. She’s never needed me because she’s always had you.”

He looks down the dark hall towards his little girls room. They’d put up those glowing sticky stars on her bedroom ceiling this afternoon and construction paper butterflies they’d cut out together, hanging from fishing line between the stars. When she woke up tomorrow he didn’t think she’d have her mother here anymore, would not have her by her side, probably, for a very long time, if ever. How was he supposed to tell her that? How was he supposed to help her through that? He didn’t know if he had the strength, the intelligence, to navigate such a difficult thing. But he didn’t have a choice either. He’d have to find everything she needed from him somehow, somewhere – he would. 

“Every little girl needs her mom… but she also needs structure in her life, stability – she deserves to have that. You need to make a decision, a real one, for her sake. I won’t have her waiting by the phone, watching out the window for you for years and years.”

“I won’t be coming back this time,” and although he was expecting it, already knew, he still flinches, like a bullet punching through the space in his heart where he holds Sarah. He nods anyway. “I do– please, I do want you to know that I’m sorry. That I wish it was different. Please, tell her that, tell her to forgive me.”

He wonders why it is, that in the equation of crime and absolution, forgiveness is always the faction that is most readily expected – demanded even? Despite the hurt being something so, so terrible. But he promises that he will, anyway. 

Eva’s gone the next morning. 

Two weeks later, he gets divorce papers in the mail, and he tells Sarah that her mother will not be returning this time – cradles her little body in his arms with equal measures of as much gentleness and strength as he can muster while she cries.

Chapter .8

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

[sleepingdeath-light]

poly relationship hcs ; jumin & v

requested by ; anonymous (02/08/23)

fandom(s) ; mystic messenger

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; v / jihyun kim, jumin han

outline ; “hi death, i hope you’re having a good day! i was wondering if i could request some sfw poly headcanons for mysme, either for v and jumin or jaehee and zen, whichever you feel like more! thank you in advance <3”

warning(s) ; none, just fluff!

with partners like jumin and v it’s impossible for you to not be spoiled rotten — they love providing for you and each make sure, in their own ways, that you’re never without whatever you want, need or crave (whether that’s a home cooked meal, a new outfit, supplies for your hobbies, or anything else)

jumin is incredibly protective of you and v, feeling a lot of guilt about what happened to his best friend (and now partner) in his last relationship and what followed it — so he makes sure that the two of you are accompanied by security whenever you’re out and about (overtly if you’re at a public event, like a gala or a fundraiser by the rfa, and covertly by a smaller group if you’re just running errands or going on a date or something else along those lines)

jihyun took up painting again after settling into your relationship and you and jumin are his muses — pretty much all of his warm up sketches are of the two of you (countless expressions, poses, scenarios, moments captured in pencil and pastel and oils and pen and charcoal and…), he takes pictures of you all of the time, makes sure that you know how wonderful you both are, even if most of his art featuring the two of you never leaves your home

jumin leans towards traditional pet names (like ‘darling’ and ‘dear’, when addressing the two of you) whilst being responsive to anything you use for him — including some ‘sillier’ pet names like ‘honey bunny’ and ‘baby’ — whereas v will generally just call you and jumin by you names or, occasionally, ‘my love’ or ‘my loves’ when addressing you both

the three of you go on frequent holidays just to escape the responsibilities of life for a while — jumin, his business, and you and jihyun, the duties of running the renamed rfa — and you go anywhere and everywhere you can (even tagging along on business trips with jumin just to get away for a few days — which he’s always quietly grateful for)

jumin and v are both early risers, with the former having to get up immediately in order to get to work whilst the latter enjoys staying in bed and cuddling for a little while — but neither leave bed without sharing a kiss amongst the three of you (with jihyun even returning later once you’ve woken up with some freshly made breakfast for you to share after jumin has gone to work — or to have with him if it’s one of his rare days off)

you and v will often venture out to jumin’s office in order to join him for lunch, taking the opportunity to spend some much needed time together in the midst of his packed schedule — but if he’s too busy that day you two will just pack him something with some loving notes for him to read between meetings

between the three of you elizabeth the third is absolutely spoiled rotten and you wouldn’t have it any other way — three sets of hands to give her affection, three humans to play with, three pet parents buying her all of the toys and treats a cat could possibly want, and three laps to curl up on when she’s tired (what a life!)

when it comes to kissing — jumin always kisses you passionately and never fails to leave you flustered and breathless (he also prefers to kiss your knuckles or your lips), whilst jihyun prefers to kiss you sweetly and chastely whilst making every one count (he also prefers to kiss the top of your head and your wrists)

jumin sleeps flat on his back and enjoys having the two of you cuddled up to him — either against his sides or on his chest — whilst v is a side sleeper who prefers to spoon over anything else, but he’s also happy to have you or jumin resting on his chest if you’re comfortable there

[exoticmoonsstuff]

Douma x Female cultist!Reader Smut: coming into paradise (cross-posted from my ao3 account)

Characters: Douma, female cult member (reader)

Summary: Douma ties you up with his ice vines. Pure smut LOL very porn with plot. Bondage, praise kink, dom/sub vibes. I also have this on my ao3 account (plus an additional chapter there).

Warnings: 18+

Douma's bright eyes looked over your naked body. He seemed to be pondering what to do next, running through the options. It made you feel both excited and vaguely impatient. The effects of your orgasm had begun to wear off, and you could feel the wetness drip down between your thighs. You longed to touch yourself, or to touch him, but something in his eyes made you think you should wait for his orders.

"How would my precious girl enjoy being tied up?" he at long last asked, with a raise of his eyebrows. "I'll be very gentle, I promise," he said huskily, licking his lips. You looked around the room. There were no ropes in sight. He saw your expression and said, "I have them already, darling. Can I trust you with a secret?" playfully. At your nod, he picked up a pair of golden fans and waved them. With the movement, several vines made of pure ice appeared before you.

You let out a gasp of surprise. Not human, then. Of course not -- how could any human man compare? The vines moved towards you slowly, gently twisting themselves around your waist, your wrists, your ankles. The sensation was cold but not unpleasant.

Douma hummed as he debated to himself. "Shall I fuck my darling like this?" he said with a wave of his fans, the motion forcing your back to arch as you kneeled, still sitting upright, your legs spread open. "Or like this?" the vines put you on your back. "Ohh..." he said, "I know the perfect position for your beautiful body." The clink of the fans moved the vines, so that you were on your hands and knees, your back to Douma.

Although you longed to look him in the eyes, that was soon forgotten as the vines moved. One around each breast, gently teasing your nipples, another pair holding your wrists, you propped up on your elbows. Two more forcing your thighs further open. Another began to rub against the lips of your pussy, the cold sensation heightening the pleasure. Every inch of your body felt electric, the ice cold of the vines, the silky sheets against your elbows and knees. As the vine began to move faster, you began grinding your hips, willing it to touch your clit. Just the slightest bit closer...

"Ohhh, you like that, don't you?" Douma said, walking around to admire you. The vines wrapped around your delicate body was truly a work of art, in his mind. His nails traced the arch of your back, the portion uncovered by the vines. "Would you like me to keep going?"

You nodded straight away. "Please, please..." you could not form the words, as the vine between your legs began to trace your clit. Another vine wrapped itself around your throat. Not enough to hurt or silence you, but just enough to add to the array of sensations filling your awareness.

Douma patted you on the head, brushed your head back. "Since you ask so sweetly, that deserves a reward." With another movement, a smaller vine inched its way into your pussy, as the other picked up its pace on your clit. The vines supported your body, helped you grind your hips with greater strength. Your mouth was open as you panted and you were vaguely embarrassed seeing Douma watch you squirm. With each movement you were closer to orgasming. Closer, closer...

He said, "Wow, you look so pretty like that! Now, should I move you to fuck your mouth, or where do you want me, my darling?" his fingers traced the curve of your cheek.

"Inside me, sir. In my pussy" you moaned.

Douma fanned himself, causing the vines at your pussy to pull back. You pouted in frustration, longing for the sensation to return. Clutching your thighs only helped so much. "What a good girl, still so respectful of me. But I want to hear you say my name, I want you to say what you need, now." He went behind you, his hands cupping your ass. Then you felt the length of his tongue trace you, felt it enter you. He began to suck at your clit, ever so softly.

You let out a moan as he picked up the pace, the small vine teasing your g-spot. Your pleasure built, and built, and built. But just as you nearly came, he pulled back. This repeated over and over, the sensation maddening. The vines tightened, forcing your hips to stay in place. Oh yes, he wanted you to say... "Douma, oh Douma. Please, please let me come." With that, he began sucking and licking your clit, until you could feel a wave of pleasure build once more. This time, instead of pulling back, he kept going. Kept sucking and licking, his hands clutching your body, forcing you closer to his mouth. Finally you came, gasping for air, your vision blurring as you rode out your orgasm.

Douma pulled back and stood. You felt his hands on your ass. He then leaned to whisper in your ear. "I'm going to fuck you now, Y/N. What do we say to that?" huskily. His nails gently scratched, almost enough to bleed.

You tried to gather your thoughts, still lost in the aftermath of your orgasm. "Yes, please" you said, smiling. With that you felt the vine leave your pussy, replaced by Douma's thick cock tracing your lips, using the wetness from your orgasm to gently enter. His cock was so big, so thick, yet you were so wet that he managed to enter you slowly but surely. One of his hands grabbed your hair, not pulling, yet. The other just below the vine circling your waist.

When at last the full length of him was inside you, he said, "Wow, what a good girl, taking me all the way inside!" his tone was admiring and you smiled, happy to please. He began to move and you felt your walls stretch to accommodate him. He said, "now, be a good pet and move those hips."

You happily obliged and the vines assisted. The feel of grinding against him, the feel of his hips against you, was ecstasy. You were once more moaning and panting, wishing he would pick up the pace with you. He occasionally complimented you in gasps, admiring how hot and tight you were around his cock. But he seemed happy to take it slow, to watch your frustration grow. At long last began moving faster, pulling your hair back as he grinded against you. The sensation of his cock deep inside you, his hand tugging your hair and forcing your head back, his ice vines gently squeezing -- heaven.

The cool air felt wonderful against your exposed skin. "Douma, harder, please..." you begged with a moan. "Oh god, is this what sex is supposed to be like?"

He laughed, temporarily slowing his pace. "Yes, my darling. Pleasure... that's what it should be. Now cum for me." He said this rather smugly, happy to please you just as much as you sought to please him. One of the vines returned to trace your clit, building the pleasure. You adored his cock fucking you, but it was only with the sensation on your clit that you could orgasm once more. He let you orgasm, and you called out his name.

You thought that would be it, but he merely removed the vine, until your clit was no longer overwhelmed with sensation. Before returning it once more. He said huskily, teasingly, "how many times in a row can you almost come, my love?" as you cried out in pleasure. He seemed to know instinctively when to slow the pace, when to increase it, when to whisper words of encouragement, that you were doing so well. But he refused to let you come again It soon became overwhelming. One, two, three... "Douma," you panted.

He went, "hmm? Speak up, my love." and reached down to kiss your neck. "Beg for what you want." His tone was teasing, yet firm with authority. He could do this all evening, he seemed to be saying, while you turned into a liquid mess.

You begged, "please let me come, Douma!" panting. So close, just a little bit closer...

Douma laughed, the husky sound ringing in your ears. "Hmm... not quite loud enough, pet."

You practically screamed, "please, please let come" as you grinded your hips.

But he refused once more. Over and over, until at long last he relented with a smack of your ass. "You sound so beautiful begging like that. I'm going to cum in you, Y/N. You're going to orgasm with me, okay?" his pace building once more, your hips grinding harder and harder. You merely nodded, beyond words. Soon you felt your orgasm build once more, and as you began to orgasm you felt Douma cum inside you, as he moaned your name. He kept thrusting as you rode out the wave of pleasure, the sound of your cum-filled pussy erotic. At long last he stopped, pulling out. You felt cum drip from your lips onto the bed, as his vines retreated.

Douma moved you onto your back, straddling you. His rainbow eyes were adoring, a sweet smile on his lips. Just as you began to speak, his lips met yours. The two of you kissed, his tongue tracing yours. You clutched at his back, wrapping your legs around his waist. He then pulled back and said, "Surely you aren't ready already?" teasingly.

"I'm always ready for you," you said simply.

[louroth]

Well, well, well. Would you look at what the cat dragged in. (it's me, Lou!)

The time is here, and oh man, do I have a lot to say! Ever since this post was posted on my personal tumblr, on the fifth of may, I have been working like a machine on all things OUROBOROS. I had originally planned for this to just be a progress report/ announcement on what I will be working on now that I am free of the shackles of work, but, somehow, I managed to finish all bullet points, and more. So, let's get into it!

First off, the title.  Ouroboros becomes all capitalized OUROBOROS. Idk. It's neat. Next!

Art. Whew. I didn't think I could draw like this anymore- drawing has been more of a struggle than writing has been, forever, always- it was something I really strived to become good at, for a time. And I gave up. Only to pick it up again when I started ouro, and ever since I released that pressure, something just clicked and I have been churning out art like never before. I don't know if this is a fluke, a stroke of luck or if all that hard work I once did slaving away with menial art practice… but I'm grateful nonetheless. (A note on official RO art: I lost my ipad pencil somewhere on the lawn, lmao. I haven't been able to get a new one yet, so there is a slight delay here.) I am hoping that I get to make some commissions too, in the near future. Visit the forum to see some works in progress (amongst them, Yor's RO portrait!)

Onto the hellscape that is coding! I have been growing more proficient with CSS and html with the help of the ones that run so that we can walk; I have studied and researched and tested and tinkered until my eyes crossed, finding my way into this medium with the incredible guidance of the giants of whose shoulders I stand on. I will talk about this in detail on a later date. So I think it's finally time to reveal that yes, I am working on a twine version of ouro. I will develop it in tandem with choicescript; the porting over from one to the other isn't the herculean task I thought it would be.

Why am I doing this? Because I need to have a save system. I am continuing to write the whole alpha draft in choicescript in hopes that CoG will announce the ability to have a native save/checkpoint system, but if that doesn’t happen, I can’t publish this story without one. Unfortunately, I am not willing to code in a savesystem in choicescript myself, because this will be a large game, with far too many variables for that to be sustainable. Trust me, no one is more disappointed by that fact than me. If it comes to the point that twine publishing will be what I do, I will set my sights on writing a smaller game for hosted games. 

Now the meatier announcements!

New Socials!

Tumblr: You are looking at it!  This is the new, exclusively OUROBOROS blog where I will share all announcements and sneak-peeks, and future updates. I worked together with the dev of the theme and made it oh, so pretty and functional. Please check out their portfolio here, if you are ever in the market for sprucing up your (desktop version) of tumblr. They were a pleasure to work with. Amongst other things, it has a gorgeous header (again, only if you visit on web and not mobile) where I am showcasing fanart and official art. Go check it out! This month, I am showcasing a truly breathtaking art from KAIRELART, and you can find the full art here, or follow the links in the “FEATURED ARTIST” tab in the top bar.

I hope you enjoy this new haven for OUROBOROS! I will be answering questions once a week (saturday) and ramping up as I adapt to this new schedule, more on that further below.

My old tumblr, honeypeabrain, will revert back to being my personal blog. Feel free to keep following me there, but know that it will be inundated with shitposts, crass humor and the occasional poetry dump and personal post. You’ve been warned!

Discord!

By the good graces, this was ROUGH to set up. Working with discord bots is akin to wrangling code, and it was well and truly, a war. But with the help of many, it is finally all done and ready for anyone to join and talk to me and others about OUROBOROS and anything else between heaven and earth. 

I will also greatly appreciate if any future bugs and feedback are submitted through here, so I can keep easier track of it. Come join us! (18+ ONLY.)

Patreon & Ko-Fi

Yep! Ko-fi is just a place to toss me a coin if you wish to help me towards the goal of new PC parts to make testing easier, or to just show appreciation for those that have it to spare. Patreon however, already has a multitude of posts and will be a hub for exclusive NSFW sidestories that you get to vote on, loredives and extensive sneak peeks, Q&A’s, polls and weekly dev logs. 

Right now, there are only two tiers, but I expect it to grow as my story does. I have many plans, but I am going at a steady pace. 

Amongst tiered content, there is a (free) NSFW story with female MC and Idren to read there right now, if you want to check it out! I am mgoing to post it on tumblr and the adult thread here over the weekend.

NOTE: I stupidly didn't realize that patreon had a review process after I pressed launch, which I did just a few minutes ago. Sigh. I am going to post the short on tumblr and the adult forum thread as soon as I get to it.

It is not mandatory by any means, so if you do choose to support me, you have my eternal gratitude as these places will be the sole source of income for me.

Onto writing:

The best news out of this whole bunch is that I have worked so hard on editing and writing, that in the past month I have all but finished a two chapter update! I have a chunk of about 5-6 thousand words left to write, and I am going to buckle down over the weekend to see it through. I wanted to have it done so badly for today, but I lost three days of writing time last week due to still being weighed down with work. I hope it isn’t too disappointing to have to wait until monday for the demo update! I am going to post a link to an as-I-write updated demo on Patreon and Discord, if you want to see the ugly face of raw wip drafts. Otherwise I will post the demo update here on Monday with a comprehensive post!

And now!  the biggest news is… from now on, I am writing full time!

This is what I have been tossing and turning about every night ever since Easter. It started as a silly idea while talking to some friends and family about how I was looking for a change in career. And then, little by little, that idea whittled down to a plan, carefully carved by my partner and his whispers of a happy future, a finished dream project, and something to be proud of until the day I wither and die. 

Somewhere between then and now, I grasped a tiny sliver of bravery and held on for dear life. 

I quit my job as a teacher, and instead of accepting a cushy office job, I started behaving as if OUROBOROS and writing was my work (for all the moments I could afford). I have researched and tried different methods from week to week, and although I was still tired from work, I felt like I was onto something that could build into a sustainable future. 

I have no doubts that this journey will be bumpy and long, but sometimes all it takes is to take that first step, and do it with determination. It might all crash and burn and fail in a spectacular way, or with a whimper, but then I will know that I have tried. I will know that I gave myself the chance to be who I want to be, work on what means so much to me. 

And that’s it. I think the hardest part of formulating this post (I’ve written about 50 versions of it!) is getting to the point; the kernel of what makes it so special to me. So, in my heart of hearts, what I'm trying to tell you is that I'm gonna give it my all- and while I know the road to having a sustainable career in writing is rough and ever winding, I do know for sure that I am ready for a challenge, to pour my heart and soul into it until the day I rush out of the office screaming IT IS DONE. IT IS DOOOOONE!!! 

If you decide to join me, I will treasure your company like a lantern in the dark. Hand in lovable hand, let’s fucking go.

[my-naughty-writings-and-musings]

Starscream x Skyfire

NSFW, Size Difference

I recently came across this absolutely amazing animation by @fuccerito and I just had to write something for it!! Please enjoy Starscream being shown a very good time by his much larger lover and check out their amazing art when you're done <3

Skyfire always managed to be both lovingly gentle and completely in control every time they interfaced, and for all of his expansive intellect, Starscream had yet to figure out how this perfect balance was accomplished. In his defense, his only opportunity to study the phenomenon happened to be at a time when he was usually incapable of complex thought. Now was a perfect example of the processor deadening effects of Skyfire's spike, but as always, he didn't have the capacity to recognize it. There were far more engrossing things to focus on as the larger mech held him aloft over his exposed lap.

Already quite heated and eager for the massive spike below, the Seeker could only whimper in need as Skyfire maneuvered him into position, lining up his sopping valve over the throbbing tip of his length. Starscream let out a much needier sound as the heat pressed against his entrance, and he tried in vain to push his hips downwards to get it inside. The action made his lover chuckle affectionately, and he brought their helms together for a tender nuzzle before  bringing their lips together. A soft whine into his mouth compelled him to give the smaller mech what he wanted.

With only one arm needed to hold his delicate frame aloft, Starscream was lowered swiftly but smoothly onto the eager spike below, and he gladly spread his legs around Skyfire's chest to accommodate the stretch. Despite having taken it countless times before, he still let out a high pitched keen at the penetration, helm rolling back and optics squeezing shut as he felt the broad girth filling him up. There wasn't an ounce of resistance from his slick and eager valve as he took the girth with experienced ease. Rather, he clamped down on his mate the moment he felt him hit his maximum depth, wanting to feel that glorious fullness forever in his lusty haze.

Skyfire chuckled again, then secured his grip behind the smaller mech's back and got to work.

As always, he was careful in the beginning, using his greater strength to effortlessly slide Starscream a short distance up and down his length in a series of cautious, restrained thrusts. Each was met with a delightful, gasp of pleasure and not a trace of resistance, which told him he was in the clear to turn things up. Bracing his other arm against the floor, Skyfire gave no warning before he started to pound, sliding Starscream up and down his spike without a trace of effort. It was just the way they liked it most. 

Red optics went wide and stars burst before them. Moaning without restraint, Starscream ventilated hard and fast as the massive spike slid in and out of him at breakneck speeds, their hips loudly clanking together every time he was dropped back down to engulf the spike below. Were his arms free he'd have grabbed a hold of his lover for stability, but with them pinned he merely leaned into Skyfire and quivered from helm to pede, wings fluttering without his knowledge as euphoria made him steadily lose control. Colors continued to swirl in his vision each time he was thrust downwards, his frame so weightless in Skyfire's massive hand he was practically being used as a toy. 

Skyfire couldn't pretend to be completely in control as his overload started to build, the tight, wet heat of his mate's arousal bringing him to the start of a swift conclusion. Ventilations growing haggard and desperate, he paid close attention to the way his lover increased his volume, going from gasps of delight to cries of desperate ecstasy as he closed in on his own overload. The already tight valve around him began to pulse and flutter, forcing the larger mech to fight against the urge to blow his load then and there. Never once had he finished before his tiny lover...

Ever unknowingly merciful, Starscream didn't make him wait very long for release. Shaking so hard he rattled his armor, the Seeker flushed hot pink as the wave of release crashed into him without warning. Lube flowed down into Skyfire's lap as his valve spasmed in white hot ecstasy, milking the spike inside of him for everything it had and filling his frame with a dizzying rush of euphoria like no other. Skyfire allowed himself to truly let go once his lover started to come undone.

Tightening his grip, he pushed Starscream all the way down, fully sheathing his spike just as his own overload finally claimed him. Moaning into the smaller mech's audial, he came in ropes of transfluid so thick and hot his lover felt them squirting inside of him, the excess gushing out between them as Skyfire lightly bounced his hips. At the peak of his own ecstasy, Starscream was reduced to pitiful, breathless sounds of helpless delight as he took every last bit of his lover's load. Skyfire dropped his gaze to admire how much of a mess he'd made of the high class scientist.

Wings pinned down and twitching at the overwhelming pleasure tingling through him like an electrical storm, the tiny Seeker was reduced to a whimpering mess by the time the release inside of him slowed, his valve so stuffed it overflowed all over the berth below. Tilting his gaze upwards, Starscream went from helpless gaping to a dazed smirk of satisfaction as their optics met, and he allowed himself to go limp in the other's grasp. The heat of ecstasy cooled into the comfortable warmth of the afterglow.

Skyfire let out a deep vent as he too shifted into the bliss of gratification, so completely content he could have fallen into recharge on the spot. Keeping his lover supported effortlessly, he smiled as Starscream began to purr against him, compelling him to nuzzle their helms together with a returning sound of affection. The smaller seeker made no effort to move as the spike inside of him softened and retracted, allowing Skyfire more time to sit and enjoy the moment. It was obvious they'd both need a shower after this, but with the two of them so tired yet comfortable, neither was in a rush to get that started. For now, they were quite content to rest together in the privacy of their bedroom. The whole world could wait forever for all they cared...

[petite-gloom]

Hi Megan, you’re one of the only autistic people in their 20s that I know, so I hope it’s ok to ask this, sorry it’s so long. I just found out I’m autistic (and quite possibly ADHD - awaiting dx) and that the shyness is actually Anxiety. I’m 24. I have a degree from university but have been unemployed for the past two years. I feel so worthless, everything seems futile? But I’m starting to realise why typical 9-5 office jobs aren’t the best fit for me - like sure, I could push through every day and get the work done but it drains me so much. I’ve been trying to figure out the things that bring me autistic joy - reading, art, playing piano, and makeup are a few things. But I’ve really been struggling to find out how to make these a career, or if I even should rely on these things to make money, lest they suck the joy out of it. I’m grateful to be able to live with my parents, but part of me feels like I’m being a burden by not bringing in some income/contributing financially. Do you have any advice/suggestions for me? I’ve been entertaining the idea of creating a YouTube channel, but worry that the anxiety and ADHD will keep me from being consistent or successful. I appreciate any feedback you may have. Thank you ❤️‍🩹 I hope you’re okay 🥹

i really wish i had something helpful to offer, but i'm not sure i do. i'm only two years older than you (26) and obviously work from home doing art, but i also live with a parent and struggle a lot behind the scenes. one thing i really want to give you a heads up on is that (depending on channel size), youtube doesn't really pay a lot- with just shy of 60k subscribers and 10-20k views per video (one video a week) i usually only make around £400 a month (sometimes a little more, sometimes a little less). the amounts fluctuate, don't match your estimated earnings, and are only updated accurately within adsense around 2 days before you get paid. it's not a stable or reliable way to make a living, which is why most youtubers have additional work and income streams. £400 is obviously still £400 and im very grateful to be able to add it to the household bills/groceries etc but it obviously isn't an amount that allows me to live independently, and the fluctuating nature of the payment amounts makes it hard to rely on for anything recurring. it's also a lot of work behind the scenes, and i do find it very difficult during weeks when im feeling more anxious or my mood is low. i don't say this to be discouraging (majority of the time, it's really fun to make videos!) but i just want to be real about what it's like as a small autistic youtuber.

it's hard to suggest other options because i don't know you personally- the level of your skills, how much support you need, how much rest, etc. people tell me there's money to be made on tiktok, so maybe that's something you could consider for makeup and/or piano (the videos are shorter so i wonder if it would be a little better for anxiety/adhd)? could you offer classes for either of these things? could you sell digital art? is there any part time work along the theme of your degree? i had a weekend job at a garden centre that i enjoyed for a long time, so maybe you could find something super chill with smaller hours that would pay a bit- a book or coffee shop?

i wish it was easier and that i had more suggestions but to be honest im always thinking the same- how can i make more to help? how can i make enough to be independent? how can i survive as an autistic person? what will my future look like? and i don't really have any of the answers, much to the horror of my own increasing anxiety. but i hope you can find something fulfilling to work on that pays a little. i hope you can find something that helps you feel as though you're contributing to your household. maybe you could express your concerns to your parents, and see if there are other ways to contribute? i know you mentioned financially, but things like cooking, cleaning, grocery shopping (if you don't already) can be nice ways to help support the household while they're working. my dad cooks and does the dishes, but i do a lot of the cleaning, and have recently taken over ordering and paying for groceries. he's autistic too, and this helps free up some of his mental space.

i don't know if any of this is helpful, but i hope it is. even if it isn't, please know that you're not alone in these concerns, or in this issue. i think it's a difficulty that all autistic people face as they age. we have different needs, often limited abilities, and it's very difficult to stay afloat in a world that is increasingly expensive, where you're expected to be able to work for more hours than you rest. i wish it was a bit easier for everyone. i wish things weren't so hard for disabled people especially

[whatyadrawin]

The Fruit After the Flesh 18+ -Chapter 7-

Minors DNI!

Masterlist

Approximately 3,543 words

Pairing: Thomas Hewitt (Headcanon) x AFAB reader

This chapters Warnings:  Sexual language, health concerns, foul language, mild mention of abuse, brief mention of infertility. I guess just all the usual slasher fucker warnings? Use your own discretion.

A/n: I went into the ZONE for this one, I spent all day on it, ALL DAY. In this chapter I round out some characters a bit more and I get Y/N to push some boundaries. I'm falling in love with this little world. Check the masterlist for some home layout references if you're interested in the layout of the property. As always, reblogs, likes and comments are extremely appreciated, and I hope you enjoy the chapter and art!

Tag-List: @fan-goddess

Chapter 7

A week went by slower than molasses as you stayed in Luda Mae’s room the entire time, only leaving to get a little bit of movement. You were generously allowed to stay at the Hewitt house until your home could be repaired, the entire time you stayed at the house you were weak with a persistent cough from the smoke, so you slept most of the time you were there so that you could recover; Today, you finally feel back to normal.

You had made a call to a company in the next town over who specialized in reconstruction from fire damage, they let you know that the work would take at minimum 4 months to complete and the cost was fairly high; You were fortunate enough to have a large sum of money from Tilly, who left you a dragon’s horde of wealth in her will, so money was not a stressor for once in your life.

Waking up to the sounds of a farm everyday was comforting, the wind blowing through the tall grass, crickets and birds singing songs, chickens and cows going about their business, it was extremely pleasing to hear these sounds every morning. The more you explored the property, the more beautiful you realize it was, despite being banned from viewing certain rooms and areas, there was still so much to see; you could tell that this family was once quite wealthy, they had a large mass of land and the home was enormous, there were fixtures which only the rich could have afforded, they were old and a bit damaged but the extravagance was still there.

You made your way to the kitchen for some coffee and see Luda Mae frying some eggs, she turns to see who entered and smiled when she saw you,

“Mornin’ sweetheart! It’s real nice to see you up and movin’ around this early. Want some eggs? I just been fryin’ some up for breakfast, there’s also coffee in the pot over by the stove.” She turned back to her frying pan and grabbed a plate to place the eggs onto.

You accept her offer and make your way to the coffee pot, you had been so drained of energy the past week that you always woke up so late and were unable to walk around much without coughing up a storm, today you felt strong. You place your coffee on the table and sit down, the kitchen was quite a decent size much like the other rooms in the house, American houses in the south had such massive rooms, they all felt so spacious.

The kitchen was full of mixed technology from varying eras, the stove and fridge were from the 50’s while the coffee maker and the smaller appliances were all from the late 90’s or early 2000’s. There was a theme to this kitchen which tickled your brain, strawberry themed. The kitchen window was situated in front of the tub style sink, it had white curtains with a red strawberry pattern which just added to the coziness. The walls were colored a salmon pink which beautifully accented the white laminate countertops, you saw that the molding was painted that same soft eggshell white from Luda Mae’s bedroom but the floor was still that dark walnut wood which ran throughout the house.

You turn to Luda Mae and say,

“I feel really bad for staying in your room, I really don’t mind sleeping on the couch or somewhere else so you can get your space back.”

She laughs and replies,

“Funny you mention that ‘cause I have a surprise for you. Been workin’ on it the whole time you been here.”

You were wondering what she got up to everyday, it seemed like she was nowhere to be found whenever you were awake. You even rarely saw Tommy while you stayed at the house, but Luda Mae assured you it was just him wanting to give you space to recover; apparently, he asked about you every day, and would keep watch for whenever you emerged from the room.

You quickly finished your breakfast in the anticipation to see what this surprise was,

“Ok Luda Mae, I want to see what you have in store for me and then I’ll come back and do those dishes.” You didn’t want to seem like a lazy freeloader, it was the least you could do. She responds,

“You ain’t wasting time doing no dishes while you have your first day of full strength. After I show you what I been workin’ on, you best go outside to get some fresh air.” She smiles at you playfully and takes your hand to guide you to where the surprise was.

You pass the main foyer and make your way through the dining room to reach the edge of the living room where there was a door. You were not allowed to go in the room past that door so you were curious to see what she was hiding, she stops you before you go any further and says,

“Ok Y/N, I know you been wonderin’ what’s behind this here door, and I don’t blame you. I want you to close your eyes and don’t peek ‘till I say so.”

You agree and cover both your eyes with your hands, she guides you through the door and walks you into the room,

“Ok now open ‘em!” she says excitedly.

You open your eyes to reveal a large bedroom, there’s a queen size bed still covered in its original plastic in the far corner of the room, and a writing desk by a large bay window overlooking the meadow. Large cabinets and wardrobes fill up space on the walls while another set of doors can be seen on the opposite end near the bed leading to the outside patio; The walls are a very old white color with one good size chandelier in the middle of the room dangling from the high ceiling, still with all its crystals in-tact. Your eyes widen and you are struck with awe, Luda Mae squeezes your hand gently and says,

“This was bein’ used as storage, it was meant to be my daughter’s room from a very long time ago but, I was never fortunate enough to have her.” She looks down at the floor,

“What happened?” You ask, not realizing that it may be a touchy subject,

“Oh, I’ll tell you that story someday. I want you to know that this room is yours to have, regardless of when your home is fixed, it’ll always be here for you.” She smiles at you endearingly and then continues, “And you can call me Mae from now on hun, no need to say its entirety, just don’t call me Luda.”

You nod and follow with, “How come you don’t like Luda, if you don’t mind me asking?”

She shakes her head,

“Me n’ Charlies Pa used to call me that, he was as mean as a starvin’ coyote, liked to hit and berate us both.”

You understood and dropped it, “I’m sorry you went through that, I’ll make sure to just call you Mae then.”

Luda Mae smiles and hugs you with one arm from the side, you match her and hug her with your arm and you both look at the room together side by side.

“I have no words for how grateful I am to have you in my life Mae, you have been like a mother to me and I feel like I could never repay you for your kindness.” You start to feel tears well up in your eyes, overwhelmed with the generosity of this woman.

“Theres’s nothin’ to owe dear, I did this of my own volition. I want you to enjoy it, all I ask is that you start feelin’ like family, because you are.” Her sincerity was enough to make tears stream from your eyes, which she wipes with her handkerchief.

You give her a hug and hold her tightly; you don’t know how to thank her but you promise yourself to make her as happy and loved as she has made you feel.

“You’re such a sweet girl Y/N, I want you to make this here room your home, do whatever you want with it, paint it, move the furniture, hell, whatever your heart desires!” She kisses your head and you release the hug saying,

“Will you help me decorate?” you ask.

Luda Mae looks at you with an excited smile, “I was hopin’ you’d ask!”

-

After the incredible surprise, Luda Mae left to go clean the kitchen and she sent you to go outside to get some sunshine, she handed you a straw hat and said,

“Go on now, explore a bit. Maybe go bug Thomas for a bit, he’d like that.”

You laugh and make your way outside; you start looking around the property and notice a whole lot of things. In one end of the property, behind the house near your new bedroom was the meadow for the cows to graze, next to the house across from the barn was a wheat field, in another end behind the small forest there was what looked like a vehicle graveyard which spooked you a little; there were cars with license plates from all over the U.S. and many different kinds of vehicles in varied states of decay. You decided not to explore that section due to potential hazards; you make your way through to an unexplored part of the property behind the forest which was between the meadow and car graveyard.

This area of the property had some trees around it which gave it privacy, in the middle of this tree perimeter was a large swathe of tall green grass, you found this odd since most of the land you saw was covered in dry, yellow grass. You tried to make your way through the bush, ensuring you don’t step on something dangerous, the further in you went the more wet the ground got -this must be where all the ground water is rising up- you felt a sense of excitement as you got closer to the center.

You finally reached a pond; it was fairly large and was surrounded by beautiful native plants. The water was crystal clear; you could see right to the bottom which was modestly deep, there were lily pads dispersed throughout the surface, and tadpoles played in the shallow zones. You felt an overwhelming desire to swim in it, the water was so pure looking that it was like a dream. So, you did.

You took off all your clothes, the surrounding forest shielded you and the Hewitts were all too busy with chores and farmwork to bother coming by, so you felt sure that you would be left alone. The water was a refreshing temperature and it felt amazing on your skin which was sweating from the heat of the day, as you made your way into the deeper parts of the pond you see small fish bolting out of your way, you decided to only go as deep as your shoulders.

You weren’t sure how long you were in the pond for, it was too incredible of a sensation to pass up spending time in. The birds sang for you and the water felt so comfortable, the shine of the sun passing overhead left a shimmer effect on the pond surface. You kept your hat on to protect you from the intense rays and you could not have been more relaxed, the small fish now were coming up to your toes and nipping at them which tickled you. Nothing could be better than this, it felt magical.

Back at the house, Luda Mae checked the clock on the wall and called out for you, when she didn’t hear a response, she went to ask Charlie if he had seen you.

“I hadn’t seen that sweet piece of ass nowhere Luda, I been busy as hell fuckin’ with this damn broken fence.” He was mending the fence by the road all day which had some damage from cows messing with it, he followed with,

“Go ask that kid of yours, I bet he knows where she went. He’s always tryin’ to get a peep on her. He needs to let off some of that pent up frustration, the boy’s brain is already like mud we don’t need him fantasizin’ all day.”

Luda Mae rolls her eyes and heads toward the barn where Tommy was feeding the chickens, she walks up to him and rubs his back asking,

“Son, have you seen Y/N today? She isn’t responding when I holler.”

He shakes his head and looks worried,

“Can you go check to see she hadn’t gone too far out? I worry she got herself lost. I have lunch ready for everyone too so both of you come on back to eat when she’s found.”

Tommy nods his head and immediately heads out from the barn to search for you, he began looking around in the wheat field which didn’t take long because of his incredible height he could see over all the wheat. He goes to check the meadow but doesn’t see you, the car graveyard was next which worried him. When he looked around all the vehicles and didn’t see you, he grew more concerned, the forest area had human traps still left in it from the bad days in the past, he was scared that you were stuck in one.

Tommy carefully made his way through the forest, cautious to avoid trap areas, he still didn’t see you and this made his heart race. He didn’t want to find you hurt and there was a very real risk of that, he paused and tried to listen. The sounds of humming could be heard in the distance, that’s when he remembered the pond and he bolted towards it as quickly as he could.

When he got to the pond area the humming was just you singing a song to yourself, he thought it was the most beautiful sound in the world. He decided to quietly make his way through the reeds so he wouldn’t scare you and stop your singing. For such a bulky man he was incredibly quiet, and with his hushed footing he got past the reeds and saw you in the water, naked.

Tommy immediately turned his head away; he was already intoxicated by your body from the night he saved you from the fire where you had so little clothes on already, and now your body was completely bare. Tommy tried his best to be gentlemanly but his aroused curiosity got the better of him and he just sat there gazing at you like a lion hiding in the tall grass watching their prey.

You looked like a mermaid, your singing was like a siren calling to him, putting him under a spell, he didn’t want this moment to end. He couldn’t see anything much below your shoulders thanks to the sun illuminating a glittering glow around you, he wanted to black out the sun for hiding your beauty from him.

Tommy couldn’t resist moving in for a closer look, he had never seen such beauty in his life, all he wanted was to be with you in this pond sharing in the relaxation and freedom. He wasn’t careful where he stepped and his weight was too much for the soft mud shelf to bear, so he fell in the pond making a lot of noise. You let out a scream and turn around to see a large splash, you try to think if there’s alligators in Texas, and panic sets in.

Tommy got his footing and stood up in the pond, the water in that area was deep for you, but on him it only reached under his pecs. You felt relief at the sight of him, his hair was slick and stuck to his face, he looked like a dog with long fur who was getting a bath, it was cute. Tommy gasped for air and moved his hair from his face pushing it back away from his eyes. You were so taken by him revealing his face again that you didn’t move, his dark green t-shirt clung to his chest and revealed erect nipples underneath. You couldn’t help but giggle a little bit after he turned his head to you looking embarrassed.

You had the biggest crush on this behemoth of a human, every day last week was like agony not being able to see him, he was all you could think about which helped keep your mind off the memory of the fire. He didn’t move from where he stood, he also couldn’t stop staring at you, a devilish smirk appeared on your mouth. You move your wet long hair over your chest for modesty and call out to him,

“I didn’t know you guys had a paradise hiding on your property.” He rubs the back of his head and looks around nodding, you follow,

“Why don’t you come out of the pond this way, it’s a gradual incline here so it will be easier to get out for you.”

He shakes his head and tries to turn back to get out the way he came, so you push,

“Thomas, I can move out of the way if you are too scared to look at my body. Don’t put yourself at risk of drowning, just come out this way.” You felt so bold, the magic of the pond gave you a strange confidence, and Tommy being so shy was endearing and only bolstered your sudden jolt of extroversion.

Tommy hung his head and covered his eyes as he made his way past you, he slipped on the slick mud underneath and fell backwards into the water right next to you, splashing you as he went down. You giggled as his head slowly came up from the water, a very annoyed and embarrassed expression on his eyes. He was able to sit with his butt on the pond floor and his head was able to remain above water, he didn’t move from being too scared of further making a fool of himself.

Seeing him so close to your bare body made you incredibly aroused, you couldn’t help but swim up to him and get between his legs so you could hold onto his chest. You smiled at him and said,

“Don’t be embarrassed, I don’t think this pond is very friendly to such… impressively large men. Why don’t you stay a while and just relax in the cool water with me?”

Tommy’s eyes were so wide you thought they would fall out of his head, you saw his cheeks flush and he was breathing heavily, you were close enough to hear his heartbeat which was racing. He had never been this close to a woman before, well, a woman who was alive and willing to be near him, let alone a naked one. You stare into his eyes, they were so full of emotion and deeply blue like the Pacific Ocean on a summer day reflecting the light of the sun on the water, you were mesmerized, you said,

“You have the most beautiful eyes, Thomas; I could get lost in them.” You reach out to move some stray hairs away from his face.

Tommy was overwhelmed with carnal desire; it was taking a lot of restraint to not touch you and he was worried that if he did, he wouldn’t be able to stop. He had never felt this way before, he thought his heart was going to explode from pumping so fast, he could feel his veins throbbing and a very specific organ was painfully pressed against his jeans. When you touched his face, he couldn’t take it and instead of just grabbing you and taking you, he got up and ran out of the pond towards the house at lightning speed. The last thing he wanted to do was to hurt you, or overstep a boundary you didn’t want him to cross, his head was so full of new swirling emotions, he was drunk on the desire you put in him and it was too alien of a sensation for him to handle.

You watched as Tommy got up and ran away from you, it made you laugh seeing him flustered like that. You knew you were tempting a beast but there was a deep lust and longing inside you that wanted him to let loose and ravish you. You were so erotically excited that your groin was aching for touch, it didn’t help that you noticed a massive snakelike shape pressing through his jeans as he got up to escape your spell, the prospect of his size was enough to make you bite your lip thinking about what it looked like freed from the bonds of his pants.

You got out of the pond and put your clothes back on, you made your way back to the house feeling proud of yourself -at least now he must know where I stand- you were looking forward to more overtly flirtatious encounters in the days ahead.

[gatitties]

May i request please Ryusei, Baji, Chifu and Kazu when a friend draws them/make a clay figure of them please ? As a platonic

Thank you !

─Ryusei, Baji, Chifuyu & Kazutora x reader (platonic)

─Summary: your friend discover that you are making a small figure/draw of them

─Warnings: none

Ryusei Satou

─ He caught you drawing him in the middle of class, it was a boring class and you had a good angle on him so you took advantage of it.

─ You wish he hadn't seen you because oh boy, he'll make fun of you telling you that you're in love with him as a joke.

─ You will raise his ego even more and probably every time he sees you with a pencil and a notebook he poses ironically for you.

─ Although he seriously won't mind if you draw him, he enjoys seeing how you see him even if it's silly doodles sometimes, he'll appreciate art just the same.

─ He tries to draw you back but let's say that art is not his strong point, you still appreciate the attempt.

─ He won't force you if it bother you that people see your drawings without your permission, but keep in mind that he will want to snoop in your notebook just to see his.

─ Oh and if someone makes fun of your drawings he'll be ready to throw hands no problem, only he can make fun of it and he's not even serious about it.

─ He'll definitely steal one of the doodles, cut it out, and put it in his phone case to take it with him.

Baji Keisuke

─ You had to make a figure of whatever you wanted for a class project, you decided to make your friend bust in a cartoon version.

─ So you both worked together because you needed some references, he didn't question why you decided to take him as a model since he wanted to do Peke J.

─ He's probably complaining that you've exaggerated his expression and that he's not so 'ugly', but it's the style, so you ask him to shut up and concentrate on his work, you're not accepting criticism of your work when he made a cat as if it were a ball with paws.

─ He will show off when the works are exhibited, proudly telling Chifuyu that this is him and that you have wonderful hands that would make you a famous artist in the future.

─ You will verbally slap him for being a hypocrite and for having complained at the beginning about how he looked and only bragging now that you got the best grade in the class.

─ He saved a photo of the sculpture and asked you to make a slightly smaller one to put in his room.

─ He will show it to his mother, proud of your abilities, although at first he said that he did it to take the credit, luckily it's easier to catch a liar than a lame one.

Chifuyu Matsuno

─ You casually commented that you were out of ideas to draw and that lately you were not able to capture the poses well one day.

─ He said that he could be your model to take references, although it was only a specific case, you began to trace his figure more times because this boy seemed to be posing without realizing it.

─ He won't mind spending entire afternoons posing for you, although he can't sit still for more than a minute because he gets tired quickly, give him a break, he never thought of being a model and it's exhausting to keep the same posture for so long.

─ Definitely he will ask you to finish the drawings that he likes the most and not to leave them as a simple practice sketch, he wants to hang them on the wall of his room.

─ He will also keep one of those little drawings in the phone case, he takes it as a lucky charm because the day you gave it to him he passed an exam.

─ As a thank you, he also wants to make a silly little drawing of you, although since he wants it to be a surprise, he draws you during classes without you noticing.

─ Chifuyu isn't exactly the best at art but you appreciate his scribbling attempt, you gave him an extra point because he drew your pet next to you.

Kazutora Hanemiya

─ This boy needed some affection since he entered the correctional and you thought of giving him a gift once he completed his sentence.

─ So you set to work on a small figure of him that he could use as a key ring.

─ He hugged you so tightly when he came out of the correctional that he almost left you breathless, he didn't expect any of his old friends to go see him that day and even less he expected a gift from you.

─ He will ask you to teach him the art of clay because he needs to start looking for other hobbies that do not include punching.

─ If he is good at it, you will have many relaxing outings doing this type of craft, if he doesn't master the practice, he will only ask you to make more figurines to decorate his room.

─ He definitely wants you to make earrings to match with you, he brags that his best friend did it to everyone possible, yes, sometimes he'll embarrass you because he spends exalting your work when it's not a big deal most of the time.

─ He supports you in everything, like if you sign up for a figure and creativity contest, he will be by your side on work nights helping you as much as he can.