#from te red fog

[xoluvx]

meet my girlfriend - young miko

“Porque no me contestas? She’s definitely home, her car’s in the garage” Miko turns to Mariana, confusion written all over her face. She rings your doorbell again, leaning her body against the doorframe. After standing there for another 2 minutes, she finally remembers she has the key you gave her to your apartment. Dumbass. She pulls the ring of keys out of her pocket, and finds yours, you painted a little red heart on it, so she’d know which one was yours. She places the key in the door and her and Mariana trail into your apartment. 

You step out of the steaming shower, bathroom entirely fogged up and start drying off your body. After applying deodorant and gently towel drying your body, you make your way to your room and put on a lacy blue matching bra and panty set (https://edge.curalate.com/v1/img/sSKUJJw4U3LdJgHWaox7mUl3ElikjiTKoyg3eeEOxJ8=/sc/800x800) and then walk over to your vanity applying your favorite Chanel perfume. You didn’t think it was necessary to put proper clothes on because you’re the only one home, or so you thought. 

Making your way to the kitchen, you open your fridge and slightly bend over, and then you hear a gasp. You instantly straighten up and turn to see your girlfriend, and her best friend, lounging on your couch. You quickly squeal and turn around and run back to your room, throwing on an oversized shirt and some shorts before making your way back to the living room. They both look at you with sheepish grins plastered on their faces, which you respond with a roll of your eyes, a slight smile on your lips.

“What an unexpected surprise,” You snicker as you strut your way over to Miko. You lean down to peck her lips, but she pulls you down to where you’re sitting sideways across her lap, briefly deepening the kiss.

“What a great first impression” Mariana laughs, and you snuggle further into Miko’s side, praying your embarrassment will go away. You lift your head from where it was resting on the side of Miko’s beautifully tattooed neck and turn to face Mariana.

“Pleasure to meet you, pixie” you say teasingly.

“Pixie?!” She peers at you with an incredulous look on her face. That’s a new one. Miko lets out a huge laugh, entire body shaking and leans her head back on the couch. 

“Te juro, this has been the absolute funniest thing I’ve seen in a minute” Miko continues laughing. You look at her strangely.

“Funny? Baby, your best friend practically saw me naked!” you shriek at her, causing both women to crack up once again.

“Y/n, if it makes you feel any better, you’re very…well proportioned?” Mariana tries to sound as respectful as possible. You physically facepalm, and you feel Miko’s body shaking with laughter underneath you. You get off of Miko’s lap shaking your head.

“I hate yall…” you flip them off with a smile, striding back to your kitchen. Miko turns to Mariana with a theatrical point in your direction.

“Meet my girlfriend,” she smiles.

- enjoy baby 🥸 love you!

This was mouthwaterrrriinngggg!!!

Ummm I love you and this 😭😭 please you make so many young miko fans happy with this (including meeee) just know that💖

[unactive-shroom]

The last thing Leo Valdez expected was to see Y/n L/n in bunker nine.

Crouched beside a large metal frame, her oil stained hands made rapid movements as the machine shuddered and emitted a grey fog across the bunker. Although Leo guessed the contraption was about to combust, he couldn’t help but fix his gaze on the girl in front of him.

it had been almost a year since he had seen her last, her previously long, dyed hair was now tied back out of her face, the dye settled at the ends of her hair like dripping paint. Her natural black hair created the perfect silhouette for her face, emphasising her sea-green eyes and her ethereal seeming features. She seemed tired, but happier, as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

“Y/n?” Leo stammered. “When did you get here?”

The girl looked up and smiled a cheeky grin back in response, before giving the machine one final thump with a mallet before it spurred to life, clanking and clunking, gradually clearing the grey smog from the room.

She stood up, wiping her slender hands on what appeared to be a pair of school trousers. It seemed as if she had just left school, which was impossible. Her school was miles and miles away, surely she wouldve had time to change. Besides, School finished up almost a month ago in America.

Before Leo could decide whether an “I missed you so so much ” or a “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back early??” was a better thing to say, he was engulfed in her arms, her familiar ocean and oil smell frying his brain for a split second.

“Man, I’ve missed you, Leo. Sorry for rooting around in your bunker without asking you, I thought you’d already be in here and then I got a bit distracted I guess”

She explained how she arrived early after some empousai attacked her boarding school in Birmingham, causing the year to finish early. As for why she was in her uniform still, Apollo still owed her a favour from when he was turned mortal, so she asked him to bring her to camp half blood.

As they left bunker nine and headed to dinner hand in hand, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a thick square wrapped gift.

“didnt think I forgot your birthday, did you?” As she handed him the present he looked at her sceptically. “Did you for real get me a book for my birthday? I mean damn, I love you and all, but a book? seriously?”

Regardless, he carefully unwrapped the vibrant paper around the gift, revealing a red leather book with the title bearing “Esperanza Valdez”. Speechless, Leo shot you a careful glance before opening the book. Inside was a handwritten note.

“Cariño, you told me once that you would do anything to have a picture of your mother, beside the newspaper clippings from that night. You told me it was pointless though, because it was impossible. That your family would never even talk to you again, let alone give you anything of your mother. You have given me what I thought was impossible. Love, acceptance. A place to go. I think it’s time for me to return the favour. Mi vida, mi alma, mi sol. Te amare por siempre. Feliz cumpleaños, mi amor.” ^

Leo flicked through the pages in disbelief. The inside of the book was filled with scrapbooked pictures of his mother in her youth, all the way to pictures of her mother holding him with his grandparents, his mother playing legos with him, his mother and him going about their life, content. Before the accident. When he got to the last page he couldn’t hold it in anymore. He collapsed into her arms, sobbing a mixture of grief and gratitude, all while she stroked his hair and waited for him to calm down.

When he had done so, she asked if he wanted her to read him the final page, a crinkled handwritten note carefully glued into the final page

“Necesito ir a comprar algunas cosas a las tiendas, hijo. Si te despiertas antes de que regrese, no tengas miedo. Volveré tan pronto como pueda. llamar a nuestro vecino si algo sucede. ¡Te amo! -Mami”. ^^

It was heartbreaking how something so mundane can cause such Greif - A note from Leo’s mom for his child self not to worry as she went shopping in the early morning. Leo had never had anything like it, a note written by his mother, her *handwriting*, it felt so surreal. He remembered reading the note as a child, waiting patiently by the door for his mothers return. But now there was no door to wait by, no mother to walk through it. He looked up at y/n with tear filled eyes.

“How did you even get these? I know Aunt Rosa didn’t give them to you, no way.”

And so she explained how she sought out Clios, the Greek patron of history, and did many complicated and time consuming, and some straight up ridiculous quests in exchange for old photos of his mother. The handwritten note had been a “tip” for doing such a good job on the quests.

Leo was completely shocked. How - *why* would someone do all this for *him*? He thought to himself how he didn’t deserve such a wonderful partner such as y/n, such a kind and thoughtful human was surely wasting their time being with *him*.

Despite his thoughts & tears, the two of them made it to dinner, where Leo showed piper and Jason the pictures of his mom and him. It was too personal, too raw to share with anyone else yet. And after Leo’s 20th “thank you so so much I love you the most anyone has ever loved ever” they finally blew out the candles on the cake, and when anybody asked, Leo was sure to tell them that it was the best birthday he ever had.

a/n : I can never nicely finish up a one shot can I. Reader is implied daughter of Poseidon. Anyways, translation for the Spanish :

^ “my life, my soul, my sun. I love you forever. Happy birthday my love”

^^ “I need to go buy some things at the shops, son. If you wake up before I come back, don't be afraid. I'll be back as soon as I can. call our neighbor if something happens. I love you! - Mami”

Sorry if my Spanish is bad bro I suck at sm and won’t lie I used a lot of google translate for the second piece. Okay hope you enjoyed 🫶 happy birthday Leo

[i-mybrunettelady]

dis moi qui tu hantes, je te dirai qui tu es

Summary: Peitha is processing things. Alysannyra tries to help, in her own way. Content warnings: mentions and slight descriptions of violence. Spoilers: SoTo (specifically Heitor's Gate)

Nayos is quiet, for once. The sounds of battle died down, and the combatants have settled into an uneasy wait, a calm before the storm. And that is a good thing, Peitha thinks. Troops need time to replenish, to rest. The wounded need time to nurse their injuries before they go to battle again. 

And the living need time to mourn the dead. 

Peitha isn’t entirely certain she’s grieving for Heitor. She doesn’t feel the ashy taste of grief on her tongue. Yet, when she told Arina and Alysannyra she needed time for reflection, she meant it. When she isn’t occupied with helping her army, Peitha is deep in thought, away from the people around her, taller and bigger than most. She almost feels like a pillar to them, and she knows she is, but the thought of it makes something in her chest tighten. 

What a strange concept. 

On one such day of calm, Peitha retires earlier than she usually does and goes to a little corner of the camp. There, she watches the fogs of Nayos dim the blues and the reds around her. A part of her wonders if the sight of Heitor’s mangled body would have been any different if it was hugged by this tender fog. The Wayfinder - nay, the Commander - is a fearsome enemy. She roared and tore through her cousin’s flesh, unrelenting. Her fingers moved in practiced motions to carve out weapons and chains of light, and not once did she stop to take a breath for more than a moment before she was back into the fray, with the same deadly strength. 

Yet, Alysannyra felt no joy when she walked away from Heitor’s corpse. She was emotionless, but Peitha knows that she wasn’t indifferent. I don’t take pleasure in death, she said later. I’m sorry for having to kill your cousin. 

Peitha told her she wasn’t in mourning. Yet, her thoughts turn to Heitor often, and she begins to wonder if she was being truthful. 

A bat of giant wings tears her from her thoughts. Peitha slowly raises her head up to see the round head of Alysannyra’s skyscale, Maurizia, peek from the edge of a tree. There’s a loud thud of steps as the Commander herself jumps down, freshly returned from her aerial patrol. She says something to her skyscale and the beast makes a happy, satisfied noise. 

“It’s hardly fair to leave all the duties of running this to Arina, Peitha,” Alysannyra says and Peitha hums. A moment too late, she realizes she was joking. 

“She is more than capable, Commander,” Peitha counters, trying to keep an even voice. Alysannyra laughs and steps out into the clearing. 

“You of all people here should know I’m something of a little shit, Peitha,” she says, amused. Peitha stares at her. “Staring isn’t going to deter me either. Stare at me all you like. I am, after all, the most beautiful of all out here.” 

“Be that as it may, Commander–” Peitha says and looks her over. The simplicity of her practical clothes does not take away from the attraction. If anything, it only makes the golden richness of her brown hair stand out against the dim nayosian sun, and she fits perfectly in the paleness of the horizon. “How has your patrol been?” 

Alysannyra squints. “I am a married woman, Peitha.” 

Peitha laughs. “I would be delighted to meet that husband of yours one day. But I am asking about your actual patrol. No ill tidings, I presume, given your.. rather cheerful disposition?” 

“None whatsoever. Eparch seems to be pissing his pants. Or buying time, which is more likely.” Alysannyra’s face grows dark. “He’d do well to be terrified by this point.” 

What an ally I’d found, Peitha thinks. “Heitor was weak,” she says. There’s that strange feeling again in her chest. “Cerus, less so. But Eparch is not.” 

“He too will end up like Heitor and Cerus,” Alysannyra says. “Are you having second thoughts?” She presses her fingers in a fist and takes a deep breath. 

“Me? No. I did not mean to tease your pride so.” 

“I think you did. But that is besides the point.” She releases her fist. “The patrol was uneventful. The only real threat to us right now is this fog, but that’s Nayos, and not much else.” She tilts her head. “Were you thinking of Heitor again?” 

Peitha pauses. “I have,” she says after a moment. “There is a reality where she joins us. There’s a reality in which you didn’t cleave her in half. But that reality is not this one.” 

“There’s also a reality in which I’m still insufferably proud and nineteen. There’s a reality in which I didn’t have to kill my husband. There’s a reality in which my daughter didn’t die and there’s a reality in which I am dead.” Alysannyra’s voice is resolute, strong, akin to a mountain. Her feet make strong steps on the blue grass beneath, and she’s looking at Peitha with her muted, purple eyes. “There is also a reality in which I am alive, both my husband and daughter are alive, and that so happens to be the reality in which Heitor made the wrong choice and died for it. That is also a reality where Irja is dead.” 

“I have been in your shoes, Peitha,” she then adds, quietly, but with no less resolve. “Believe me, I am every time I step before an army and become its face. I think of Irja, Ramses, Arina, and of every other face under my command. That is entirely normal. That means you are not like Eparch.” A pause. “That means you didn’t make the wrong choice, like Heitor.” 

Peitha nods. She knows she would have been Alysannyra’s target too if circumstances were different. That knowledge fills her with relief - that she is not - and also with an odd kind of understanding. Was she herself not digging through Alysannyra’s mind not that long ago? 

“Do you think I would have died, had I made the wrong choice?” Peitha asks. The light breeze carries Alysannyra’s hair to and fro, plays with the ends of her cape, and they stay in a silence that’s as vast as the clearing around them. 

“No,” the Commander says after a while. “Instead, I think it would haunt you. Sometimes, that’s a fate worse than death.”

Does Heitor’s death haunt her? There’s a reality in which Heitor made the right choice. There’s a reality in which Irja is alive, safe in their camp. She looks at Alysannyra once more. She has seen what haunts her. Peitha’s chest aches, and aches, and aches. 

“The right choices sometimes don’t feel good either,” Alysannyra adds, and then, conspiratorially, “I wouldn’t change a fucking thing about my life, actually. But I’m not right in the head. I don’t know what Kryptis consider right in the head, but maybe you aren’t either. And my best advice is to accept that, and to find as much peace in it as you can.” 

What peace? Since when has Alysannyra Ainsaf, the Commander, the Champion, the Wayfinder, the hero, the legend, ever been at peace? Peitha takes a deep breath. 

Does the same fate await her, too? 

“You are a curious creature, Alysannyra,” Peitha says at last. 

“I’m sorry if I wasn’t more helpful. But I don’t think you’d make much use of empty consolations. We are too similar for that, you and I.” 

Oh, you have been most helpful. Peitha blinks. “I need reflection, Commander.”

Alysannyra calls to her skyscale. The beast trots over happily and nuzzles her mistress’ arm. Alysannyra pets Maurizia’s snout for the effort. As she passes by, Peitha feels a hand on her shoulder. 

“I’ll take care of the camp,” she says and squeezes. Peitha doesn’t say anything and simply continues to sit on the ground, claws buried in grass. Wordlessly, Alysannyra’s gone, and before long, Peitha hears the greetings of welcome and barks of orders in the camp, and turns to look. 

Does the same fate await her, too? She needs some very, very deep reflection. 

[atypicalacademic]

Beloved

For @tes-summer-fest prompt for day 2, beloved

There was a cornerclub in Blacklight, hoisted on a hillside over a double-storied building they’d hastened to build for a flood of refugees. At first there was a single room, chairs huddled close and a ragged mat for the standing. The publican had a handsome, wicked smile, like a knife’s glint in the dark, a single, claw-shaped golden earring dangling from his ear. At first the curtains were drawn to shield the flood of blood-red ash.

 “My lady wife can’t take it.” He said. “Wasn’t built for Vvardenfell, this one.” Then, when the tally of the dead and the living began its slow, tortured ascent, the doors opened for the ailing, for the grieving, and the ill. They clung to his shoulder and clutched at the kerchief of his lady wife. 

If his eyes were rubies, hers were emeralds. His skin the deep grey of a rain-bearing cloud, and hers the rosy olive of a sunrise over fields of wheat. She pulled up the sleeves of an old gown worn to familiarity, and began to heal. 

“Time to break out the old tutoring, my love.” She said, her smile was strained and sad.  He stood by the bedside, and held down thrashing limbs, slipped numbing brandy into gasping mouths. Sometimes a bangle or a bronze key tempted him, and his lady wife’s tired eyes tempted him, the wanting to make her glow with silk and jewels and to keep his promises, keep some more tempted him, and knowing she was good enough for the two of them tempted him.  

Ancestors forgive him, but he was a mer made to desire. But he was fastened to a word, he joked, to his patrons when he took it on his shoulders to cheer them up. Fastened to a word as he was to her pretty skirts. 

Ancestors forgive him, but when lives slipped from beneath her palms, it wasn’t her that cried. 

*

There was a cornerclub in Blacklight, snow-frosted glass windows lit with two hefty lanterns alone. The matron wiped rust from their iron bottoms, oiled the creaking hinges when the endless ash blew in to settle in every nook and crevice. 

An old friend, an alchemist who wrapped her own heart in lace and parchment and sent it home, had left the lanterns behind. The matron found it among a thrifting treasure hunter's hoard, rusted beyond recognition. She'd gasped and put her palm on them, as if will alone could light a fire. 

Come home when you see reason, her parents had written, in their last missive.

Reason wore the face of old friends when the dusk rolled in and laid a carpet of shadows over the cracked tile floor. Reason was too many men and mer succumbing to the smoke closing their chest, rotting their labouring lungs, the whisper in her ear and the dreadful grating in her throat that promised she'd love her way to an early grave. Reason was a morning she rose with her bones aching of a hard bed, yearning a little more for the rosy dawn and the cinnamon-tinted coffee and a soft brush for her hair than for him. 

Reason was a fight without resolution, how he sharpened under fear and she turned brittle from sacrifice. He gave up nothing, a bitter voice snaked between sleep and waking. 

But come morning, and his hair that smelt of camphor nuzzled against her bare skin, it vanished like mist. She remembered that first graze of his hand, deft fingers at the clasp of her necklace without so much as brushing the fine golden baby hair at the back of her neck. Careful, if she were never meant to be broken and moulded like clay, but preserved without malice, without caveats.

Beneath Vvardenfells falling rain she'd thought of him and shivered. If his malice felt so tender, what of his love?

That other love was but a blade twisting in her gut. 

By the fog-lamps wrought in Aldcroft, she remembered cobblestones and girlhood. Not wanting to leave them with the last word, she scribbled a reply: I'm alive. 

The doorbell chimed as he swept in, and pulled her close to dance.

I'm alive. 

*

There was a cornerclub in Blacklight, and the windows inched open as the ash began to settle, and the first flowers opened their tentative buds. The air was still thick with Red Mountain’s dying breath, but enchantments hung from the rafters and the square balconies. The Imperial officer who lived across the street had left, quiet as he’d come, when the banner at his door came tattered, its red like a smear of blood in the snow. 

“Morrowind is ours again.” The publican said, to the feeble sunrise. 

His lady wife lifted her head from the book or from her sewing or from wiping down the countertop, threading a new flower into the curtains, mixing a potion. The look in her eyes wavered from soft to chiding. Morrowind is yours, you mean. 

The publican wondered what it means for a land to be his own. He hadn’t much to call his own until her and the cornerclub; Vvardenfell hadn’t been his, welcoming him to her shadows, tempting him to plunder, but he’d wept for it as she had, as he would for a lover, for a child. 

Kings and Empires rose and fell with the tides. His business, the lot of his life, was between them. He saw Rootspire’s new Council Hall rise in grandeur, another noble House take its seat at the high table. 

Morrowind is ours, he said, but what he meant was he knew now what it meant to build a life on legs that stand. Ours, he said, and what he meant was his and hers, and theirs. Morrowind is ours, he said, but what he meant was he’d learnt to belong without having to flee, with nothing at his back but his own shadow and hers. 

He meant a fresh crop of young mer now haunted the cornerclub, growing strong and sturdy and slow to die, and they would remember how he met her. Tried to rob her, and she gave me a glove and a note for the trouble. And hear this, do you know who played the courier? 

He meant a quiet hope, a steely personhood buried in him like a seed had flowered, and dear gods, the vein-flooding pleasure of it. 

There were wrinkles around her eyes now, when she smiled. New lines around her mouth. Mine. A dusting of freckles by the season, darkening to spots of sun and age. Ours, his unlined face and her hand that caught calluses. One morning he found the old glove, wedged between a book and a lockbox on the top shelf. The lace had come undone, the beading scattered where he touched it, but it fit her just fine still.

“What I mean is,” he told her, lacing his palms with hers and blushing when she kissed it, thinking with his chest caving in that he’d bury her here, as all Ancestors were. “You’ve given me my homeland long ago.” 

*

There is a cornerclub in Blacklight, and flowers grow in potted plants at the doorstep. A revolving door of tired Councillors and bright-eyed adventurers keep a near constant vigil to that tale, two-hundred years old now. 

The babies she’d brought into this world are old enough to bear swords and children of their own. They water the flowers and pull out the weeds. The neighbors leave an ash yam by the shrine as they pass by, joking if she still preferred the eclairs he’d learnt to bake for her.

She wants to smile back, and say she does, she does, she wants to touch the fabric of their robe and the metal of their armor and ask them to love him when he’s alone.

A bard from the West picked it up for a laugh and plucked a tune and fashioned a tale of it. The beauty and the bandit. The healer and the barman. Maurrie and Nelos.

She’s but a tapestry woven of words and the faint whiff of her perfume between refurbished rooms. She’d died an old lady, her body slowing and thinning when lines had barely begun to web across his skin, she’d died as all men do, and her fingerbones rest quietly in ash. 

Death is a thin veil when he still looks to the side and smiles at where her poultice shelf sits, and he leaves a coat of dust there for hopes she’d come back only to wipe it clean. 

Blacklight knows spring again. She slips into the wind and dances through the chimes. Invisible fingers card through his hair as he sleeps. The warmth of his breath alone can bring her to life, breathe a body into her. 

Nelos pulls the blinds down The Lady’s Glove. 

“Hear the birds, Maurrie?” He asks. 

I do, she says, in a small, laughing shower of rain. I do.

[hannah-heartstrings]

It’s a Beautiful Thing

For the 25 days of tes cheer prompt: snowfall

I'm late as per usual but I’m excited to share this one because my writing has gotten better but I keep not finishing the fics with my better writing in it, and because I don’t think I’ve actually shown Lecrinn’s and Garrus’s dynamic yet.

This supposed to be a quick snippet ended up 1,000 words so 700 words of it are under a read more.

Please tell me what you think!

@tescheer @nine-blessed-hero

------

           As afternoon turned to evening Cheydinhal grew colder and darker, a fog beginning to thicken. No one was outside who didn’t have to be, leaving the streets near empty. It was the kind of quiet that felt somehow peaceful and spooky at the same time.

           Walking through the streets Garrus’s steps were purposeful but heavy, his face a tired scowl. Just a few more patrols and he could go back to the barracks for supper and a much needed break, albeit a too short one.

           Nearing the east gate he stopped, the scowl fading.

           There stood a familiar Redguard woman. The red hood and skirt that always accompanied her leather armor made her stand out against the fog. Her hood had fallen down as she stared up at the gray sky, her short reddish brown hair framing her light brown face.

           “Lecrinn?” He said with a surprised smile.

           Looking down she smiled back.

           “What are you doing here?” he walked up to her. “I thought you had to go to Bruma.”

           “I did,” she stepped towards him, “but I ended up back in the area so I thought maybe we could go to the Newlands Lodge for supper.”

           “Of course!” His smile brightened before faltering. “Uh, but first I must finish my patrol and pass my shift on.”

           “No you don’t!” One of the gate guards yelled to him. “We’ll take care of that, you go with her.”

           He looked at him annoyed. “I cannot just abandon my patrol.”

           She linked her arm with Garrus’s, pulling him along. “Come on, if you get in trouble just say you got kidnapped.”

           “Am I being kidnapped?”

           “Make sure he actually takes a break!” a guard yelled from the wall.

           She raised an arm to wave back to them. “Will do!”

           They walked further into town.

           As sunlight disappeared behind the city walls the sky darkened, the fog taking on a blue tint.

           “Looks like it will rain soon,” she glanced up, pulling her hood back up.

           “It’s been dreary for days,” he frowned. “Do you think Marcus will actually take care of the patrol like he said?”

           “I don’t know why he wouldn’t.”

           “Maybe I should check-” he turned away but she tightened her arm around his, planting her feet in place.

           “Can you stop worrying for a minute?”

           He turned back to her, tilting his head down to meet her eyes. “It’s my job to worry.”

           “You’re not on your job you’re with me,” she gave a playful smile before looking more serious, “and it sounds like your men are worried about you so why don’t you try to relax? It’s too cold for crime anyway,” some of the playfulness returned.

           “I suppose you’re right, about needing to relax, I don’t think that’s how crime works,” he narrowed his eyes.

           “Criminals need to stay warm too.”

           They started walking again.

           “What if someone trespassed to get warm?” he asked.

           “See that doesn’t sound like a crime to me.”

           “It’s compromising someone else’s security.”

           “Mm,” she frowned, “you have a point… Oh!” her eyes lit up. “You take them somewhere warm that wouldn’t be trespassing.”

           He lit up as well. “Like an inn.”

           “Exactly! And buy them a room so they have somewhere warm to stay.”

           A smile started to form before falling. “Wait that wasn’t my point.”

           “Well I made a better one,” she said jokingly aloof.

           He smirked.

           They reached one of the roofed bridges and were halfway across when a breeze blew in from the side.

           She crossed her arms and shivered, coincidentally pulling his arm closer.

           “We’re almost there.”

           She stopped as a few white flecks blew in.

           “What is it?”

           Holding out a hand she caught them on her fingertips, watching them melt on her leather gloves. “Snow?” She looked to the side as more flecks began to fall. She gaped slightly, her surprise coming out in a breath of white mist.

           “What?”

           Slipping from his arm she stepped to the rail to stare out. “I didn’t know it snowed in Cheydinhal.”

           “We are just south of the Jerall mountains.”

           Snow floated through the blue fog to land softly on the river, on either side silhouettes of willow branches swayed in the breeze, brushing against the water’s surface.

           “It’s beautiful!” she breathed.

           Garrus stepped up beside her confused, to him it just looked like snow. It used to be beautiful but now it was just a sign of how cold it was going to be, that he needed to make sure everyone had enough wood for their fires and hope he didn’t have to guard outside today.

           But watching her wide smile and her bright brown eyes seemed to put the beauty back into it. With a smile he looked from her to the snow. “It is, isn’t it?”

           Another gust of wind made the snow swirl and dance.

           His eyes lit with a curious glint, though the air was no less cold it felt less bitter, the sky was just as gray but felt less dreary now. Nothing had changed and yet something changed it all. Slowly his gaze shifted back to her, eyes filling with adoration, his voice a whisper. “It’s a beautiful thing.”

           Feeling his gaze on her she looked at him confused. “The… snow?”

           He quickly looked away. “Well yes, it is,” he cleared his throat. “But what I meant was: it’s a beautiful thing, how someone can come along and turn your entire day around.” He nervously looked back to her.

           Her head tilted back with a warm smile. “Happy to do so.”

           Nervousness slipping away he returned the look.

           They faced forward.

           The air grew darker and bluer before the blue began to fade, the scene before them ever changing; but it also grew colder.

           As she shivered Lecrinn kept glancing at Garrus from the corner of her eye. Stepping closer she looped her arms around his.

           “Do you want to go in?”

           “Nah,” she leaned her head against his shoulder. “Unless you want to,” she looked up, keeping her head against him.

           Unable to contain the bubbling grin he stayed faced forward. “I’m all right.”

           Seeing the corner of his smile widen so did hers.

           Together they watched the snow fall, warmed by the other’s company.

[laresearchette]

Thursday, August 01, 2024 Canadian TV Listings (Times Eastern)

WHERE CAN I FIND THOSE PREMIERES: THE CHANGE (BritBox) POPULATION 11 (Paramount+ Canada)

WHAT IS NOT PREMIERING IN CANADA TONIGHT: MISS TEEN USA (CW Feed)

NEW TO AMAZON PRIME CANADA/CBC GEM/CRAVE TV/DISNEY + STAR/NETFLIX CANADA:

AMAZON PRIME CANADA THE AMITYVILLE HORROR (1979) THE AMITYVILLE HORROR (2005) BATMAN: CAPED CRUSADER THE BURNING CHILD’S PLAY (1998) THE DARK HALF DISTURBING BEHAVIOR FROM BEYOND HANNIBAL JEEPERS CREEPERS JEEPERS CREEPERS 2 KILLER KLOWNS FROM OUTER SPACE THE LAST HOUSE ON THE LEFT LEGO CITY ADVENTURES LEVIATHAN LOVE, DIANA POLTERGEIST II: THE OTHER SIDE POLTERGEIST III THE POUGHKEEPSIE TAPES THE RETURN OF THE LIVING DEAD RYAN’S WORLD SPECIALS: ULTIMATE CHALLENGES (Season 7) RYAN’S WORLD SPECIALS: POWER ON! (Season 12) SECRET MAKEOVER THE SILENCE OF THE LAMBS THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE 2 TROLL 2 THE VAMPIRE LOVERS WITH DIFFICULTY COMES EASE WRONG PLACE

CRAVE TV RED

NETFLIX CANADA 50 FIRST DATES ACE VENTURA: PET DETECTIVES ACE VENTURA: WHEN NATURE CALLS BEVERLY HILLS NINJA THE BLUE LAGOON BORDERLESS FOG (ID) CHILDREN RUIN EVERYTHING (Season 3) DOWNTOWN ABBEY: A NEW ERA FIRESTARTER FROM ME TO YOU: KIMI NI TODOKE (Season 3) (JP) GODZILLA MINUS ONE/MINUS COLOR A GOOD GIRL’S GUIDE HOW TO BE SINGLE KICKING & SCREAMING LOST IN TRANSLATION LOVE IS BLIND: MEXICO (MX) MAD MEN (Seasons 1-7) MON LAFERTE, TE AMO (CL) STAND BY ME UNSTABLE (Season 2)

2024 SUMMER OLYMPICS (CBC) 3:15am: Women’s 20km Race Walk (CBC) 3:30am: Women's 3x3 Basketball: Germany vs. Canada (SN) 4:50am: Olympic Morning (CBC) 5:00am: Swimming (TSN/TSN4) 5:00am: Olympic Games (CBC) 6:15am: Morning (CBC) 7:30am: Women's Basketball: Australia vs. Canada (CBC) 9:15am: Morning (CBC) 10:00am: Women's Beach Volleyball: Australia vs. Canada (CBC) 11:00am: Morning (SN/TSN/CBC) 12:00pm: Olympic Daytime (CBC) 12:15pm: Artistic Gymnastics, Women's All-Around Final (CBC) 2:15pm: Prime (CBC) 2:30pm: Swimming (CBC) 4:00pm: Women's 3x3 Basketball: Canada vs. France (CBC) 4:30pm: Prime (CBC/SN/TSN/TSN4) 7:00pm: Olympic Primetime (CBC) 12:00am: Late Primetime (CBC) 2:00am: Overnight (Friday)

MLB BASEBALL (SN1) 6:30pm: Orioles vs. Guardians (SN Now) 8:00pm: Cardinals vs. Cubs

30 FOR 30: AMERICAN SON (TSN5) 7:30pm: The story of Michael Chang's improbable rise as a young American tennis star, and his family's immigrant journey which shaped his destiny. The story is centered around his winning the 1989 French Open at age 17.

NFL FOOTBALL (TSN2) 8:00pm: NFL Pre-Season: Texans vs. Bears (Hall of Fame Game)

THE SUMMIT AUSTRALIA (Discovery Channel Canada) 8:00pm: As the summit prize pot dwindles, trust is tested as the mountain serves up a jaw-dropping challenge; a fail leads to one hiker threatening to leave the competition; a secret chaser is released to hunt the group down.

THE GREAT POTTERY THROW DOWN (Makeful) 8:00pm: The competition heats up; the five semifinalists build vintage-style water filters and fire them in custom-made oil drum kilns; Keith and Rich's surprise challenge of throwing and altering a coffee filter.

CFL FOOTBALL (TSN/TSN3) 8:30pm: Lions vs. Blue Bombers

LEGO MASTERS AUSTRALIA (Discovery Canada) 9:45pm: The six remaining teams must create an iconic scene from a Disney movie.

BEACH BARGAINS (HGTV Canada) 10:00pm (SEASON PREMIERE): Christina Hall reveals some of the most unbelievable steals homebuyers have found on the sand; from the Jersey Shore to the Gulf Shores and the Texas coast, she'll uncover the amazing deals our bargain hunters have discovered.

AMERICAN MONSTER (Investigation Discovery) 10:00pm (SEASON PREMIERE): The lives of a beautiful young family in Long Beach, New York, rip apart when five-year-old Audrey witnesses her mother, Diane, brutally stabbed to death; to Audrey's horror, her mother's murderer is somebody very close to home.

TEEN TORTURE INC. (Crave) 10:00pm/10:50pm/11:45pm (SERIES PREMIERE): Jen spends years trapped at Provo Canyon School; at 13, Danielle Bregoli, the rapper Bhad Bhabie, appears on the Dr Phil Show, which sends her to a place for troubled teens; both institutions mete out child abuse with ties back to a cult. In Episode Two, Evan Wright attends an experimental program with government backing; a religious academy turned brutal boot camp abuses Bethel Boys; Allen Knoll reunites with James Griffey, an Agape survivor and junior staffer; Captain Kennedy offers advice. In Episode Three, Naomi Wood falls ill and dies at a teen program in Florida; her death spurs a wave of activism; Bethel and Agape students fight back against their abusers; legislation passes to reform the industry, and survivors reunite to reflect on the journey.

[hocuspocusbullshit]

he throws the door to the roof open, stepping into cool evening air. the door slams shut behind him with a subtle click. he goes to the edge without thinking about it, still fuming.

/throw yourself off/ a voice in the back of his head tells him. /no one will care/.

no. for once, that is not what he came up here for.

yes, johns song is stupid. he has every right to be angry, really. this whole album is fucking stupid. but its only one, brian tells himself as he lowers himself to the ground. in a few months, they will be gone from this place, the album will be out, they will plan a tour, and he will have something to do.

atleast the view is nice. it might be the only pleasent thing about this godforsaken studio.

silver clouds roll overtop the forest, bringing a soon promise of rain. in the distance is the lake, dark and shimmering. a gentle wind teases his curls.

it really is beautiful here.

he moves forward until his legs hang over the edge. he kicks them freely. a sense of freedom comes over him, one that he has rarely felt since he was 27. if someone comes up here and sees him like this, they will be furious. for now though, it is worth the risk.

he stays there until the first drops begin to fall. cold, but not stinging. living in london his whole life has made rain a welcome friend. just, not here. his hand closes on the handle and-

its locked.

brian frowns.

pushing down and rattling the handle does nothing. theres the telltale sound of rattling on the other side but the door does not budge.

"seriously?" he mutters, then kicks for good measure.

panic unfurls and grips his heart, spreading like ice.

he does not have a watch but judging by the rapidly darkening sky, he has been up here for atleast a few hours. no one has come looking for him, and it will be fully night soon. there is no shelter here. with the incoming storm, there will be no moon or stars to light the sky and pass his time with. if, they dont come for him soon.

which. they might not. today was far from the first time he has ran off in a huff.

"youve got to be fucking kidding me" one paticular drops smacks him directly in the eye and he curses again. yelling for help will not do anything either. every second reduces the chances of someone coming up here looking for him. they stopped chasing after the first half dozen times he left.

he kicks the door again, then sighs. it is going to be a long night.

-

the storm grows fast, angry grey clouds and fat drops that smack against the tarmac so hard they bounce. the wind picks up too, howling so hard it whistles in when his ear when it touches him. he lays spread eagle in the middle of the roof, far away from a chance of the winds blowing him off, and watches until he cannot see anymore. thunder booms and lightning flashes far away. they will miss the worst of it, atleast, and the studio will likely keep its power.

he has not laid in the rain like this since he was a child.

here, there is no mother scolding him for soiling his clothes or a father yelling at him for tracking mud across the floor. the fog had not found him then. but even that momentarily feels like it has been left behind with the rest of civilization, washed away by the sound and feel of rain smacking on his skin.

-

far below, freddie roger, and john go to bed. the red special sits untouched waiting in her stand. te will be back to play later, he always is, they know, when they are not there to bother him.

-

the novelty of being stuck up here fades once every part of him has been drenched in water. his clothes stick his body and his hair hangs flat and tangled and christ alive he is /cold/.

between the damp and the night and the wind, every bit of warmth has been sapped from him. even when he hauls himself up and stumbles to a stickout for a vague attempt at shelter, it cannot stop the onslaught of rain. he is only half hidden from the wind no matter which direction he faces. the metal presses against his back when he crouches and freezes him further.

brian buries his face in his knees.

--

"this fucking sucks"

he walks makes tiny motions to keep his blood circulating. rubbing his hands on his arms, staying curled does nothing to help him or his mind. he screams once from pure frustration, letting the storm carry his voice away into nothing. it does not bring the catharis he wishes for. he wants to burn energy he does not have, scream until his throat is raw and bleeding. no one will hear him anyway (he thinks that might be a metaphor for how most of his life has gone up to this point) but when he opens his mouth a sob slips out instead.

the rain hides his tears.

-

eventually, his stomach grumbles. he folds his hands overtop, flexes his feet. he had to adjust his position when his muscles began to cramp. they are still cramping, beset with chill. now, he is half laid down, leaning against the powerbox. if he stretches his toes just enough, he can brush the lip of the roof.

he is still shivering. at some point he started sneezing too.

atleast if he gets sick, he will have an excuse to hide away for a few days. he will not have to hear how useless he is.

-

this is, far and beyond, the worst night of his life. he is /miserable./ even the night he had collapsed had not been like this. hazy though the memories are, delirious with pain, he knows he had the luxury of speed, his head in freddies lap, a hospital bed, someone always holding his hand.

there is no such comfort anymore. there will not be, either. they are not that close anymore. long are the days of sitting in each others lap, tangling their feet together, even falling into the same bed at the end of a show. he cannot remember the last time any of his friends have even so much as clapped him on the shoulder.

he cannot remember /warmth./

he has never been so cold in all his life.

-

one shiver runs through him so hard he hits his head on the wall. it hurts, he knows it does, can feel it radiating throughout his skull. it is just that it is muffled. his tongue feels like cotton in his mouth. his eyes sting. his hands and feet are numb.

maybe the prospect of throwing himself off here was a good idea.

-

he wonders who will find his body in the morning.

-

the rain has stopped.

-

everything hurts.

-

it is nearly 11 in the morning when roger finally throws a (something) into the wall.

"where the bullocks is he?" he curses. "does he really think he can be lazy and wank off while the rest of us are here?"

"oh leave him, its not like we need him" john rolls his eyes. "the longer he stays out of this, the better. i feel like i can finally breathe without him hounding me"

"youre not doing anything either rog. why dont you go join him?" freddie purrs.

"because i know that i occassionally have an actual job to do!" he spits the words. "im not fucking enjoying this either but atleast im not being a bum about it!"

"oh, you can go have some actual fun" paul, snickering at freddies shoulder.

"oh for fucks sake-" roger abrubtly stands, knocking over a stand. "we are a BAND. ACT LIKE IT." he pays no attention to the mess, stomping over to john and closing an iron grip over his arm.

"what are you-"

"youre the one responsible for this. youre coming with me to drag his sorry ass here. if i have to sit here and do nothing, so does he."

"roger-"

"come." john grumbles, but follows him out the door anyway.

roger is still swearing when they get to brians door. john hands him a cigarette, and it seems to quiet him down, if only momentarily. he leans against the far wall and lights his own while roger knocks.

"brian." he bangs on the door. "wake up."

no awnser

"we need you to play something"

no awnser.

"god i hope hes fucking decent" roger mutters before turning the knob and stepping inside.

"brian harold may you lazy fuck-"

his voice dies in his throat. brians room is empty. sheets pulled back expose an empty bed, the shower is not running, there is no pair of shoes tucked besides the door.

unease settles over him.

he steps back out of brians room, closing it behind with a soft click.

"well? is he coming or not?"

"john" rogers voice comes out tinny and small. "go get freddie. hes not here"

-

there are no other residents in munich studios. only the four of them, their producers, and the staff. there are only so many places a guitarist can hide.

[ochoislas]

MUDANZAS DEL AÑO

Esta flor nocturna, como la cabeza de un gato... ahora jugosa y sensible... déjala pensil en la sombra; escueta belleza que nada pide, —si pudiéramos injertárnosla— tan única y desposada con la hora. Mas descansa ya cortado, blanco trilio que nunca te has de duplicar. Enseguida conocerás aire muerto, breve tributo, tal esquirla de cristal en algún cerebro.

Morriña de un oscuro, negro espacio vacío libre de cosas; estar encerrado como madera dentro de un árbol, roca lo bastante hondo tierra adentro para jamás ver la sobrehaz.

Nieve. No queda tierra debajo. El frío no deja respirar. Duelen los dientes, crujen los árboles, el aire azulea. Mi aliento sube arrecho. Este bosque está tan callado que si no fuera por la fieltro de las frondas podría oír todo en la tierra.

Un alba fría de primavera cerca de Parker Creek, una corza huye brincando entre la bruma que llega al hombro virtualmente flotando sin sonido como si corriera sobre una nube.

Harto frío para mayo tardío, torvas de nieve, las currucas encogidas en sus ramas, el aire de tersura invernal, mates perlinos vientres de nube clara, neto claro cercén de viento, arce de plata doblado bajo el viento, pétalos que el viento frisa, mesados al camueso en flor, rosa pálido contra verdes abetos, el cuerpo yerto, la sangre quieta, gorda de escarcha: cuerpo sé sierpe, el ser par del calor terrero, sé viento frio, tierra templada, dóblate con el árbol, tralla con la yerba, muévete libre neto y claro y lúcido.

A la orilla del pantano un estramonio bajo el que una perdiz come bayas rojas, y un olmo descuajado por la tormenta abriendo un cerco de tierra antes cerrado, enormes raíces en un aguazal, desnudas, mojadas, como si existiera una tapa que dejara salir los secretos o un lugar donde el propio suelo empieza, y luego recrece abrazando la tierra; el hoyo, un negro ojo de agua quieta, las raíces blancas de la maleza. Parece no tener fondo, un oráculo que debiera venerar; quiero que algo de mí se pierda allí y retorne de su tiniebla, cambiando a la criatura, o regrese para llevarme de vuelta a casa.

*

A YEAR’S CHANGES

This nightflower, the size of a cat’s head— now moist and sentient— let it hang there in the dark; bare beauty asking nothing of us, if we could graft you to us, so singular and married to the instant. But now rest picked, a trillium never to repeat yourself. Soon enough you’ll know dead air, brief homage, a sliver of glass in someone’s brain.

Homesick for a dark, clear black space free of objects; to feel locked as wood within a tree, a rock deep enough in earth never to see the surface.

Snow. There’s no earth left under it. It’s too cold to breathe. Teeth ache, trees crack, the air is bluish. My breath goes straight up. This woods is so quiet that if it weren’t for the buffer of trees I could hear everything on earth.

A cold spring dawn near Parker Creek, a doe bounding away through shoulder-high fog fairly floating, soundless as if she were running in a cloud.

Too cold for late May, snow flurries, warblers tight in their trees, the air with winter’s clearness, dull pearlish clear under clouds, clean clear bite of wind, silver maple flexing in the wind, wind rippling petals, ripped from flowering crab, pale pink against green firs, the body chilled, blood unstirred, thick with frost: body be snake, self equal to ground heat, be wind cold, earth heated, bend with tree, whip with grass, move free clean and bright clear.

At the edge of the swamp a thorn apple tree beneath which partridge feed on red berries, and an elm tipped over in a storm opening a circle of earth formerly closed, huge elm roots in a watery place, bare, wet, as if there were some lid to let secrets out or a place where the ground herself begins, then grows outward to surround the earth; the hole, a black pool of quiet water, the white roots of undergrowth. It appears bottomless, an oracle I should worship at; I want some part of me to be lost in it and return again from its darkness, changing the creature, or return to draw me back to a home.

Jim Harrison

di-versión©ochoislas

[h4nagaki]

excuse-me i`m a bitch ¥

[cora-illus]

My home, my people beside me, and when I think of tomorrow there we are. I'll lead the way, I'll have my people to guide me. We'll build our future together, right where we are.

Moana (2016) screenshot redraws because even 5 years later this movie still gives me so many chills. Image description in alt text and below the cut !

[Image description: All images are rendered as close as the artist could get to the original, with the exception of characters, which the artist has drawn in their own style (visible thin lineart, cartoon style with relatively realistic proportions, a mix of cell and airbrush shading). Image 1: The scene just after Moana hands the heart of Te Fiti to the ocean, where Moana kneels on the edge of her wa'a kaulau (the Polynesian double-hulled canoe used by Moana throughout the film) and bows her head solemnly. The view is from side-on, with Moana and her kaulau taking up the right half of the shot. The water is dark, grey and still, and thick fog forms the background. Moana's hair falls over her shoulder as she leans forward. Image 2: The scene almost immediately following, during the song "I Am Moana." Moana holds onto the mast of her kaulau with one hand and leans out over the ocean, singing with joy and returned enthusiasm. Blue light from the spirits of her ancestors' own kaulau lights her and her torn sail from behind, and her hair blows in the wind. Image 3: The scene from the resolution of the movie, as the ocean parts for Moana to walk towards Te Kā. Large rocks litter the sandy ocean floor as Moana walks, lit in a soft orange as the sand reflects lights onto her. A wall of bright, clear blue sea water stands to Moana's side Image 4: Moana and the restored Te Fiti exchange a hongi, Moana pressing her forehead and nose against Te Fiti's much larger brow ridge, as Te Fiti holds Moana in her hands. Te Fiti is a giant Goddess of nature, her skin covered in grass, and her hair consisting of leaves, vines, branches and red flowers. Moana glows with green light, reflecting off Te Fiti's face. Image 5: A large, pink, orange and yellow conch shell sitting on the Motunui chieftains' pile of flat-top stones. The shell appears to glow in the warm light and cool blue shadows, in front of the bright blue of the reef, which drops into the deep blue of the further ocean. End ID.]

[the-witch-of-one-piece]

val mi amor! how are you tonight? my beloved business partner kero and i were talking, and we'd like to ask for a mirror sex + praising kink + creampie with killer. thank you so much, bby! te amo! ❤ ~aqua tofana

Hello Hello Mi Reina ♥️ Im doing great babe!!! I hope you are getting some rest right now!!!! :0 oooooooo I'm all ears for this. I got you boos. I will gladly do this for you both! 🥺 ♥️ Te amo!!!! ~aqau tofana ♥️

Killer x GN Reader: Just a Perfect Fit N/SFW

warning: Penetration, Dirty talking, Mirrors Sex, Praising Kink, Creampie

Your hands were gripping the side of the standing mirror. Savoring the sweet sensation of his cock burying deep inside of you. Closing your eyes intensified your pleasure focusing on how he was making you feel. Your warm breath fogging the mirror oh so lightly. Killer gripping on your hips tightly he watched his cock disappear deep inside you. Each time he withdrew his cock and push it back in,  escaped a moan coming from your lips. “Nghhhhhh.. Ahhhh…. Yessssss mmmmmm~~~~~” your teethdragging against your bottom lip.

“I love how you can take my cock so deep inside you and the way you wrap around it. Perfect fit for my cock.” a low chuckle bringing his eyes up to the mirror seeing the pink hues on your cheeks your bottom lip turning red. Killer enjoys the pure rawness of how he can take control sometimes. Feeling his fingers grips sliding up your side up to your neck then reaching for your cheeks giving them a squeeze. “Look at me babe I wanna see those pretty eyes of yours as my cock buries deep inside of you.”

Opening your eyes as they began to focus on your reflection the beads of sweat coming from your forehead, strands of hair sticking to your face. Looking up at the broad chest from behind you your eyes continued to travel to meet the pair of blue eyes. “K-Killer harder please.” whimpering just a bit managing to say those who as he still held your cheeks with his large hand. “I’m sorry what was that again I couldn’t hear that clearly.” His tempting voice whispers closer to your ear, then places a small kiss on the shell of your ear.

“Killer…Oh god.”  you were trying to get the words out but the pleasure you were feeling was overtaking your words. “ I-I want you to fuck me harder please!”  whining a bit louder.

“You want me to fuck you hard you say? As you wish but first can you handle what you just wished for??” Killer did one hard thrust that made you yelp “ooo…. I like what i just heard.” Killer removed his hands from your cheeks bringing it down back to your hip. Killer didn’t waste any time as he began to snap his hips against you in rough motions. The low moans turned into the loud pleasure of screams. The sound of the moist skin slapping against one another filled both of your ears. “You are so fucking perfect _________. I love all the noises you can make with that little mouth of yours....You look so hot right now.”

“Fuck fuck yes Killer~~~~~~.” your voice lingered his name for a moment longer. Killer pushed his bangs out of his face getting a look at you lewd expression you were making. Killer knew if he kept his pace going he wasn’t going to last much longer. It was getting hard for him as he felt you wrapping tighter around his throbbing cock. Hearing the groans coming from him. “Killer I- I want us to come together.”

“I can tell you’re close to baby.” his finger was gripping tighter and tighter on your ass.  Your pleading eyes looking at his was he was on the edge of climaxing. “You ready for my cum?” he grunted a bit hard.

“Yes please, Killer fill me up.” You whined a bit louder. Just a few thrusts after the words came out of your mouth you let out a loud scream, your keeps becoming weaker, hearing the final loud grunt, his warm seed spilling inside of you. Killer didn’t remove himself just yet his grip loosened up his head resting on your shoulder.  Placing a small kiss on your exposed shoulder.

Picking his head up kissing your cheek. “I love you ______.” “I love you too killer.” taking one deep breath feeling his cock pulling out from inside of you. Feeling the warm sticky cum dripping down your leg.

Tagging: @undercoverweeeb @kerokerogecko @fireflykaizoku @kristaline2dmensimp

[thetomorrowshow]

Show Mas as the resident Jimmy guy do you happen to have any good recommendations for fanfics? ><

ooooo ok so i have a lot of just angst stuff but here are some of my favorite jimmy fics!! (if I really really like a fic I read it to my sister @after-nine-at-the-oasis and those fics will be marked with 'Oasis approval'!) all of these are on ao3. not ranked in any particular order.

~

and i cough up my lungs by weareallstardustfallen

fic where, when fWhip steals the Codfather head, Jimmy starts to die from lack of oxygen and Scott is the only person around. this was the first Jimmy-centric fic I read and I've reread it a billion times. Oasis Approval!

One Arrow For My Head (And One For My Heart) by QueenKara671

short little piece set in 3rd Life of Jimmy trying to kill Scott bc Red mania stuff! Oasis Approval :)

A Mistake (And A Life) by scribblingdragon

This is part of a series set in Last Life, but this is my favorite one out of the series (and the first one written, though not first chronologically). After being banished from the Southlands, Jimmy goes to the Scottage instead of striking out on his own :)

for the swamp rises from the ground, swallowing all who dare enter by Moonstone_Kat

I lovelovelove this fic. Fog blankets the entirety of the Cod Empire and the fog even seems... hostile. when they finally manage to get in, they find that whatever it is causing the fog is also affecting Jimmy. Oasis approval!

hard to love, harder to aha-te by HaloRocks1214

Scott comforts Jimmy when he has some self-destructive feelings during Last Life. Very sweet and angsty, we love to see it <3

The Merman by MsDizzyDahlia

Scott and Xornoth are the children of a poacher who makes his most expensive catch yet--a merman. Great piece if you want a short happy ending Jimmy whump!

when you break the surface by Story_Teller_Of_Untold_Legends

I frequently reread the first chapter of this just for the whump part lol. Jimmy finds himself on the 100H server and spontaneously grows wings! Lots of fun

the pain will make you crazy - you're the victim of your crime by Jinx72

I cry whenever I read this one. I legitimately can't let myself read it too often because every time I do I cry. It's just so good--chronicles of Jimmy's exiled life after the end of Empires, featuring chronic pain (which makes every fic better imo). 10/10 do recommend but it will break your heart

A Small Price To Pay by Anonymous

Afterlife SMP fic where vampire!Scott comes to feline!Jimmy with an arrangement proposal--Scott gets full access to Jimmy's blood in exchange for leaving the others alone. Very angsty, love to see it

Two Birds, One Stone by theyareprisons

This is a medieval-ish Last Life/Empires au and it's shaping up to be SO GOOD. There's only four chapters so far but it's incredibly immersive and engaging. Jimmy is the prince of both the Avians and the Fairies (he's half of each) and has been taken hostage by Exor. I'm so excited about this one

~

so that is my current recs list! i am also always taking suggestions, i love a good bit of angst for just about any character, this is not jimmy exclusive (though it being jimmy always bumps it up on my reading list). much love <3

[uesp]

This is why I can't play Morrowind rip

I don’t blame you. There’s a lot of games I can’t play, even some I used to, for reasons like Morrowind’s navigation issues. A thought that enters my mind a lot for games with those issues is “this game does not respect my time”. Whenever I think that, I’m just done with it now. I tend to find I’m happier for it.

To be clear I don’t dislike Morrowind, I do in fact like it quite a bit. I also understand that it is a product of its time, popular concepts in game design evolve with time, with a lot of what I would consider bad ideas falling to the wayside with time (along with some game design ideas that should really be given more tries, although that’s super tangential).

At the same time I’m willing to admit to things I dislike about the game. Morrowind is not sacred, it can be criticized. I don’t like running into unjustified difficulty walls (without taking advantage of exploits). If a game encourages you to explore, and exploring the world is arguably what Morrowind MOST encourages you to do, getting cut off by enemies who are arbitrarily too powerful is terrible design. That’s not to say I dislike a game expecting you to get more powerful to expand what areas you can explore, far from it. But it should be a fairly natural process of discovery. It should be clear that I’m heading into danger.

One good example of this is Red Mountain. Red Mountain in its entirety is gated off by a giant glowing and ominous wall with only one easy entrance. As you approach it the weather becomes increasingly grim, before the entire world turns a sinister shade of red. That sets the tone. It tells me, without necessarily saying anything (although NPCs also warn you), that what’s in there is going to be much more dangerous, and that I shouldn’t go that way unless I’m sure I’m ready.

A random human living in a cave being considerably more powerful than a different random human living in a similar cave is comparatively bad. Sadly, I feel that this is much more common than the warnings with Red Mountain.

To change topics, the Dark Brotherhood NPCs constantly attacking you whenever you rest if you have the Tribunal expansion (which most people will have at this point, as most copies of the game you can easily acquire come with it by default now) is absolutely awful design of the highest level. If you aren’t familiar, when you start a new game or load a save after enabling the Tribunal expansion, there will be persistent, respawning enemies that attack you when you rest until you go to a higher level area to put a stop to their attacks. They start spawning immediately, and they become increasingly dangerous if you just try to put up with the attacks.

What were they thinking? In my opinion, the implementation of these Dark Brotherhood assassins to get you to start Tribunal is a solid contender for the single worst developer decision in any Elder Scrolls game. I’m sure there have been worst design choices in games overall, but I think it might be an honorable mention on a list of all-time worst game design decisions. I have actually tested this with a group of people who have never played Morrowind before, and the DB attacks were consistently a wall they couldn’t get past. I don’t think a person can pick up Morrowind today without either having a game guide (like the UESP), using mods to fix this, or just dropping the difficulty down (a feature hidden in the menu). That’s really, really bad.

I know we’ve been talking about this in other posts, but while talking about things from Morrowind that make it harder for me to get into now, I would be remiss to not go more in-depth with my problems with it (especially since that was the anonymous message’s primary gripe). As Morrowind does not have quest markers, you are reliant on directions NPCs give you. Directions like this...

"The burial caverns lie to the south-southeast of the camp, a north-facing door in a little hill halfway between us and the slopes of Red Mountain. Go north from the camp to the water, then turn east. At a rock cairn on the beach, turn and head straight south until you find the door. The spirits of our ancestors guard the caverns. They will attack, and will kill you if they can. Force your way past them, or evade them, get the bow, and return to prove your worthiness."

Those are actual directions you get during part of the main quest.

Honestly, I can often remember where to go or just instinctively pull up our interactive map if I need it, but if I didn’t have foreknowledge of Morrowind locations, this would bother me immensely. I don’t have unlimited free time, I would like to do the parts of the game that are fun and rewarding, not search mindlessly through Morrowind’s ash and fog-covered countryside for a gray door on the side of a gray rock. When a game doesn’t respect that, I have a hard time playing it. TES has a special place in my life, but I can absolutely understand how things like this are deal breakers for people.

But to change tracks, and to end this post, I would like to leave you with something I absolutely love about Morrowind. A lot of games play with the trope of you having to prove you are “worthy”. Morrowind absolutely does, you interact with a ton of characters who outright despise you, and barely tolerate you enough to send you to complete some task to prove your worth, before sending you off on a dozen more missions to continue to prove yourself, before sending you to other groups who you then have to prove yourself to. However, Morrowind lets you throw up your hands at their demands and snide comments and go “You are all garbage people, and I dislike you all immensely. I don’t need you or your perfunctory approval or your stupid artifacts. Now I’m going to go kill the monsters none of you could because I am AMAZING and HARDCORE and YOU ARE NOT. And I’m going to do it all while FLYING because I am too good to walk on the same dirt you all are confined to.”

And honestly, every game should let you do that.

[the-purity-pen]

Bruised Lips

Pairing: Javier Peña x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1,636 Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY!) Warnings: oral (f receiving), slightly dom!javi, FEELINGS A/N: This was a request from the lovely @moonlight-prose.  “I'm here for THOTS. I see you have a sexy prompt list... I'm going to go with... 2,10, and 35 for the one and only Javi.” from this list. This is written as a follow-up to Just a Little.

Javi followed you out of the bar and you giggled so hard that you nearly tripped over the gravel of the parking lot. His arm reached out and tapped your ass just hard enough to make you yelp. “Hey!” You turned your head to look back at him and saw the dark smirk on his lips.

You started to walk backwards so you could watch him as you walked. “You still got the tie right?” you asked and Javi reached into his pocket to let the tie unravel from his hand. “Good,” you told him as your back found the side of his truck. You let out a soft “oof” sound in surprise but Javi was quick.

His arms came to either side of you and caged you against the side of his truck. Your head turned to look directly at him and you saw the way his deep brown eyes flitted to your lips and around your face before landing on your eyes again. “Let me take you home,” he muttered as he moved closer and let his lips ghost over your ear before moving down to your neck, placing gentle kisses on his path.

Your hips jutted forward into his and he pressed back against you with a groan against your skin. You giggled softly as his mustache tickled the sensitive skin of your neck and he pushed into you and pressed his knee between your thighs. You were fully and completely trapped. Not that you were complaining one bit.

Your bare body against the rough of his denim clad thigh was causing your breath to hitch. He chuckled in his throat as he nibbled at the skin of your neck before pulling his head to look at you. His tongue peeked out to slowly lick his lips before he sucked in his lower lip. A classic Javi move to make you weak and boy did he know it.

You leaned in and immediately nipped at his lower lip that pouted out slightly when his teeth released it. “Llévame a casa, Javier,” you muttered and Javi felt like he had no choice but to crash his lips into yours. He needed at least one full taste of you before he took you home and did exactly what he wanted with you.

The ride back to his apartment included hands touching everywhere but where you wanted him most. At one red light you had even slid your body a bit lower, spread your legs and scooted up your skirt so that Javi could peek over and see your exposed cunt for him. But he still didn’t touch you.

You pouted but didn’t say anything. You knew better. This was part of the game. He loved watching you try to tease him, to rile him up but you knew from the moment he had walked across that bar that Javier was a man on a mission. As he was with work, he also was with you. Always.

Stepping through the apartment doorway, Javi closed the door then reached for you, pulling your arm and pulling you closer to him. “Come here,” he demanded gruffly before his free hand was up behind your head to pull you into a harsh kiss. A clash of teeth and tongues and lips that lead to both of you making the noises that proved how much you wanted, no, needed each other.

When he finally pulled back, you were panting, completely breathless but Javi wasn’t even close to done. He held you close to him as his mouth pressed harsh kisses and bites down along your neck, leaving marks that probably wouldn’t fade for a few days. That thought only made him want to mark you more, make you his.

Your hands held his hair and ruffled through it as he backed you up towards the small kitchen table. You yelped his name quietly when your ass hit the corner. Your hands fell to his chest to stabilize yourself and you pulled from the kiss to catch your breath a bit.

Javi let out a low growl as he turned your back to his chest and his arms wrapped around you, one across your chest to grab your breast and the other around your hips. His mustache tickled the back of your ear as he nibbled at your skin. “Bend over,” he commanded gruffly and you felt yourself clench around nothing but your eyes darkened with a devilish smirk.

You turned your head and nipped at his chin. “Make me,” you challenged and Javi paused for a second before he growled and forced you forward, causing your hands to slam down onto the table to catch yourself. You tossed your head back when Javi bit your shoulder and let his hands run down your sides to your ass where he sharply pulled your dress up over your ass, exposing your bare body to him.

He pulled back to admire you and you decided to wriggle your hips to show him and he groaned as his hand came down to swat at your bare cheek. The sound was sharp but the sting was sharper as you moaned and chewed your lower lip as you looked over your shoulder at him.

He pulled the tie out of his jacket pocket and gently and slowly pulled your arms back so that your wrists were crossed at the small of your back. You wriggled your hands as he tightened and he leaned over you to talk into your ear. “You alright?”

You nodded and felt him tighten the tie one last time. “Good,” he growled before biting at your ear and moving his way down your body with chaste, rough kisses along your arm and dress and any exposed skin.

He knelt down as he rounded your backside and bit at your right cheek which made you hiss in pleasure. His hands came to your hips as he pulled you closer to him so that he could lick a stripe along your folds. The mewl that came from you was too quiet for his liking so he grabbed hold of your hips and slammed his face against you.

His tongue was eager in flicking your clit and licking through your folds again before teasing that soft skin that connected your cunt and ass. His fingers dug into your hips as he pressed his nose into you and worked his tongue over you, again and again.

Your head was unable to stay up with the swirl of lust fogging your brain. The only thoughts you could form were of Javi, of the way his tongue stiffened to press into your cunt, the way it flicked methodical circles around your clit and the way he spit on you to make it even easier for him to slide his tongue all over you.

His hands slid to your ass where he pulled the cheeks apart as his tongue licked from your pussy up to that tight ring of muscle. He felt the way you shuddered at the change in sensation but you weren’t complaining. You were mewling his name and moaning quietly which was music to his ears but he wanted you louder still.

He let his tongue tease your asshole just a bit more before he was shoving two fingers into you without warning. You gasped and cried out as his fingers scissored within you and his tongue worked your backside. He licked over to your ass cheek where he quickly bit it again and you cursed, knowing that one left a mark.

“Fucking cum for me baby,” he grunted as he felt his pants tighten around his crotch. He wanted you to cum, to feel good and satisfied before he fucked your pretty little pussy and he told you such. His words were absolutely filthy but you loved it and you screamed his name before chanting the words “oh god” over and over as you came.

Javi didn’t slow down or stop and fucked you right through your high in such a way that it immediately brought on a second one that surprised both of you. What surprised you even more was the way you felt something gush out of you but Javi was loving it.

He was slurping at you like a man starved, going to town and feasting on whatever juices you could provide him. He wanted all of it, all of you. He always wanted you.

“Javi!” you whined as you tried to wriggle your hips away from him and he finally obliged in slowing down. He removed his fingers and you whined quietly at the loss but when you moved your head around to look at him, you saw just how shiny his face and mustache were. Your eyes widened with shock. “Did I just-?”

“Yep,” Javi cut you off with a self-satisfied smirk as he stood up straighter and lmade a show of sucking his fingers clean of your juices.

“Share?” you asked sweetly with a slight pout to your lips. Javi leaned forward, his hand grabbing your chin and pulling you to him to kiss you over your shoulder. You moaned at the tangy taste of yourself all over his tongue as he wrestled his tongue with yours.

He pulled you upright and turned you so that he could wrap an arm around your back and the other still held onto your chin. He forced you back as he pulled away from the kiss and looked at you with those deep, lust-blown eyes of his.

“Quiero darte besitos siempre,” he muttered and you felt your heart flip in your chest at the softness of his words.

“Te amo Javi,” you whispered and instead of repeating the words, he kissed you deeply, pouring everything he couldn’t or wouldn’t say into it.

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Pedro Tags: @creativekat @heythere-mel @randomness501 @absurdthirst @dindjareen @bel-ppa @general-latino @buckysalefty @jeeperky @coldlilheart @wigwitch @green-socks @pedros-mustache @weasleywinchester @sarahjkl82-blog @eternallyvenus @pretty-brown-eyess @evyiione

Javier Tags: @xjsteph 

[achliegh]

Speak No Evil (Rewrite)

O’Knutzy Kink Exploration #2

Gag

Beta: @punkkkkboi

TW/CW: Smut, Kinks, Gag

Characters belong to @lumosinlove

Leo was out getting groceries, Finn was pinned to the couch, Logan was sitting on him, pinning his lover's hands beneath his knees while texting Leo. Finn groans as Logan grinds against his hard cock while Logan bites his lip, holding back his own sounds. How they got in this position was a mystery. Before Leo left they were just napping on the couch together.

Then again cuddling does make Logan horny.

Sunshine

You: Let's try that thing tonight.

Sunshine: Which one? Sexy thing or food thing?

You: Sexy thing

Sunshine: I’m omw home

Sunshine: Start without me

Logan smirks at his phone then tosses it on the floor, not even caring if the screen has cracked. Leaning down, Logan catches Finn’s lips in a fiery kiss, licking into his mouth, running his hands up and down Finn’s chest; he feels Finn try to get his hands out from under Logan’s knees. Logan pulls away a little to look into Finn’s bronze eyes, smiling a little as he gives his lower lip a small nip. Lifting himself up a bit to be able to wiggle his hands out from under Logan’s knees. Pulling Logan back in for more kisses he feels Logan start to become less dominant and aggressive. Almost losing his edge.

“Let’s go to the bedroom, mon joli mannequin” He sees Finn blush from the French dripping from his tongue and sits up. Next thing he knows he is being carried over Finn’s shoulder to the bedroom. Laughing as he is jostled around he slaps Finn’s butt and kicks a little when Finn retaliates by pinching his side.

“I bet you can’t wait to be dicked down by me, huh?” Finn tosses Logan on the bed and begins to strip himself. Logan laughs and finally gets undressed. Climbing over Logan, bracketing him in with his hands by his head and his knees on either side of his thighs. He uses one hand to support himself and runs his thumb over Logan's cheek bone just soaking in his beauty. “You’re stunning” Logan pulls him down into a kiss as his cheeks heat up.

Logan flips them over and reaches over to the nightstand to grab the lube. He pulls away and puts the bottle into Finn’s hands smiling shyly. Finn left as though he might simply pass away.

“Want me to prep you? Or do you have some plan that I don’t know about?” Finn narrows his eyes at him as he sits up with Logan still in his lap. The lack of answer he gets besides a look and a bit of a lip meant ‘yes’. He reaches down with lubed fingers to trace Logan's entrance, he feels a little smug when Logan shivers and grips his shoulders. Finn starts leaving light, almost non-existent, kisses and nips to his neck and shoulder, pushing one digit in, his stomach rolling with excitement at the gasp that is punched out of Logan. His lover gets louder and his kisses get more desperate as he preps him until he is ready.

Logan comes out of his daze just long enough to grab Finn's hands and pin him back to the bed. Breathing heavily as he smirks at his lover.

“How do you feel about me riding you, but you can’t touch me?” Thinking for a moment Finn is going through his mind trying to figure out if he wants to try it. He had never been restrained before, Leo had tried it and almost broke the headboard with how much he wanted to touch the other two, Logan is extremely fond of it but sometimes he wants to have the control. He nodded slowly after a minute and the smile it produces from Logan should absolutely be illegal. “Okay, remember you can get out at any time, we can stop at any time… Try not to break the headboard” That pulls a laugh from both of them as Logan moves to attach his hands to the headboard. It was tight but not uncomfortable, he pulled a little to remind himself that he couldn’t touch Logan and that was something he loved. He looked into those sweet pea green eyes and relaxed. “Remember the safeword?” Finn nods and groans as Logan moves so his cock is sliding against Logan's entrance.

“Is this your plan? You just wanted to tie me up?” His breath hitches as Logan sinks down on him, Logan's eyes scrunched closed and his nails dig into Finn's chest. “You wanted to be in control today, just wait until Leo comes home and sees what a naughty little thing you’ve been- fuck” He snaps his hips up to meet Logans hips, Logan makes an embarrassingly cute sound and glares at him with out any fire.

“Since you can’t touch me are you just gonna talk your way through this?” He lifts his arms over his head as he sets a rhythm of fucking himself on Finn and arches his back as his hands grip his own hair. “If that is gonna happen I will gag you-”

“Well isn't this a sight to come home to.” Leo was leaning against the door frame watching Logan bounce on Finn, who he managed to get tied up, much to Leo’s amusement. “Started without me again?” He hears Logan huff an annoyed breath as he reaches out for Leo. Walking forward he takes his hand and kisses his hand.

“You said I could so I did, can we start now before I cum?” Logan shifted a little to look at Leo and cried out in pleasure as he hit his prostate. Leo looks over to Finn who is looking a little dazed and sweaty. Trying to figure out what they mean by getting started.

“You mean this isn’t what you planned?” He looks at Logan who is gone with fucking himself. Shaking his head Logan pulls a now naked Leo into a heated kiss and grips his hair and uses it to make sure Leo doesn’t pull away. Leo is feeling around on the bed for the bottle of lube humming when he finds it. “Fuck, you guys are so hot, I can’t wait to see what you sexy idiots came up with. Fuck I want to touc-” His eyes widen as something is stuffed into his mouth keeping him from talking, his breath hitches and he whines tugging on the restraints a bit.

“Three tugs on the restraints and we will stop, okay?” Leo is breathing hard climbing behind Logan, running a hand up Finn’s thigh and one up Logan's side. “I needed to put a pair of boxers in your dirty mouth or else it would get us off before we even got to the main event!” He nips at Logan's ear as he squirts some lube onto his fingers and whispers to him, “ready, sweetheart?” Logan slows his pace and nods. Finn is really confused until he feels a finger slide in next to his cock inside of Logan.

All three of them stop breathing for a moment until Logan lets out a possibly filthy moan and Finn follows suit, Leo slowly starts moving the finger in and out of his lover while putting pressure onto his other lover's shaft. They all move together until Leo has three fingers buried in Logan, who has cum twice. Finn is trying to make as much noise as possible, he arches his back trying to will himself not to cum from the feeling of Logan tight around him and Leo moving next to him.

Leo slowly pulled his fingers out and pushed his hand through Logan’s sweaty hair while sucking on a hickey he made behind Logan's ear. He whispered into his ear for the second time that session.

“Are you ready for this or do you want to stop with just fingers for tonight.”

“No! I want, I want- Je te veux aussi en moi.” He was too far gone to remember English at this very moment and Leo watches as a pretty flush washes over Finn from his ears to his chest, his breath hitches and Leo leans back away from Logan’s sweaty back to lube his ignored cock up.

“Ready?” He sees Logan nod and smile, kissing the side of his head and slowly pushing in, again they all three groaned in sync as Leo slid inside next to Finn. He watched as the redhead's eyes rolled back and his head dropped back onto the pillow. Leo’s attention is pulled to Logan who turns his head to kiss Leo while smiling. Whispering encouragement to move. Leo does as Logan asks and starts moving causing Logan to cum for a third time and shout. Leo kept moving even as he felt Finn start to come.

Logan is in another dimension, he feels Finn release inside him as Leo moves and tears start to fall from his eyes. He was steadily streaming cum from his own ongoing orgasm. He watches as Finn’s beauty over took his sense, the smell of sweat and sex, the view of his beautiful red cheeks and sweat shiny chest, the sounds of him whimpering behind the bundle of boxer briefs in his mouth. He had to kiss him. Logan takes the fabric out of Finn’s mouth and swallows his moans licking into his mouth as Leo continues to fuck them. His breath stutters as he feels Leo start to cum inside him also.

After a while of catching their breaths, Logan unties Finn as Leo and Finn both slip out of him. He falls between his boys cuddling into them, none of them wanting to get up to get a washcloth to clean them up, because they are one sticky mess.

Finn isn’t quite done with them though, after his fog whooshes away he shimmies down the bed and rolls over between Logan's legs. Pushing them open, he surprises Logan by licking over his entrance, pulling a shiver from the shorter man. He knew Lo loves overstimulation so he had a good feeling on how this would go. He starts licking in a pattern of short soft licks and long harder ones mixed in. He feels a weight next to him on the bed and feels one of Logan's legs lift up. Leo lays down on his stomach next to Finn with Logan’s leg resting over his shoulder.

Leo starts kissing on Logan’s inner thigh and nudges Finn’s cheek with his nose, drawing his attention away from sucking on Logan’s entrance and kissing him. Swiping their tongues over each other, Leo catches Finn’s and sucks on it for a second before pulling away, smacking his lips and licking them.

“Good soup.”

“I hate you.” Logan mumbles from above them. His disdain is short-lived short-lived as Leo takes his turn eating him out. Fucking him with his tonuge Logan reaches down, feeling for someones hair and just gripping as he cums again. Dry this time but still wonderful. His eyes slip shut after his climax, feeling the other two shift around and clean up. He eventually opens his eyes again to see one of them on either side of him, Leo is making sure Logan didn’t get hurt during the activities, and Finn was just staring at his face.

“What?” Finn smiles and flops next to him.

“Holy shit, I was not expecting that!” Finn looks at them with an exasperated smile still breathing hard. “How long was this in the works?”

“Ce matin”

“Huh?”

“This morning” Leo laughs a little, taking his place on the other side of Logan.

“Wow, you guys have no patience.”

[junhuiste]

break the code (ex-wip)

pairing: soonyoung x fem!reader

wc: 1900

tags/warning: basketball!soonyoung, college au, slightly suggestive language, cursing

a/n: this was something i started way back in 2017 when i was 15 lol and i tried going back to it and finishing but i just can’t seem to continue it!! but i don’t want it to just sit in my drafts so i’m just going to post the unfinished wip! i might do this with a lot of wips i’ve had collecting dust over the years (and they’re like 99% svt lol); if i ever do find some stroke of inspo to finish it i might but for now enjoy the 1900 words i wrote when i was a sophomore

“But babe, you’ll sit on my side, right?” Soonyoung continued to pester you with countless little questions to which he knew the exact answers to.

You pursed your lips at your boyfriend; mild sorrow and guilt clouded your eyes. In return he pout your favorite pair of plush pillows to kiss, with dull bleakness and dismals fogging his irises. It was hard, really, to resist the pull of a magnet, who was trying every trick in the book to coerce you to sit on his school’s side of the bleachers for the upcoming basketball game on Friday.

Had it been that both of you were just your run-of-the-mill university couple, tachycardia would’ve caused you to blurt out “yes” instantaneously just by being gazed upon by Soonyoung, but alas, the big guy upstairs made it to be so that you technically couldn’t through the rulebook of the sibling code.

A flushed palm extended to your denim-covered thighs, with the utmost desire lacing his fingers.

“Pretty please? With a cherry on top?” His digits creeped towards your inner thigh, getting closer to the actual cherry he wanted on top.

“Soonyoung, no matter how well you do me, I’m still obligated to sit on my side of the bleachers.”

None of Soonyoung’s coercions could persuade you to decide about where to sit. You really would’ve preferred to sit on his side, but with your current situation, none of that was possible. It was a precarious oscillation between blood and water, and neither did you want to drown in with regret for embracing one over another.

“Fine. If you can’t cheer me on–which is a pitiful shame–let me take you out to eat after the game. And we can make out in my car or something so he won’t have to know.” Soonyoung’s gaze no longer held flashes of fervor, but rather a decadent gleam of sheer admiration.

“It’s a done deal, but you better promise me to dunk on him, or be prepared to get dunked on by him. As of right now, however, you owe me some kisses for making me wobble continuously back and forth between your side and his before I go,” you taunted, “come here you little rascal.”

Soonyoung gleamed at you piercingly, yielding you to lean forward against him as a shock of joy sparked up your back. His hand feathered along the back of your thigh, brushing it so longingly, with a tinge of impertinence here and there. You could feel the urgency radiating from him as he struggled to press you even closer to him, as there were no more gaps to be filled. He grasped your chin gingerly, before connecting his lips with yours, wanting to revel in dire coalescence he’d been awaiting upon your arrival.

Soonyoung is the warm bath you dip yourself into after constant exhaustion, the meager yet compelling and needed breeze as the sun beats down you, the red mark that’s actually relieving and boasts “A+” on a hard worked assignment, the last basket shot as the clock dashes away with the snickering seconds, and he is what has you torn on where your loyalty stands, but you can’t thank him enough for that strife.

You pulled away first because getting you two to separate would be a long ass haul, and maybe it was also getting late, just maybe. Your eyes glimpsed at the badgering hands that indicated 11:35 PM, and nothing but a sullen sigh managed to escape your lips.

It wasn’t fair, how time sashayed away, but there were no seconds left to spare to sulk about it, so you caressed the tranquility Soonyoung’s face possessed and left a lingering peck upon it. Knowing him, you’d expected him to grip your waist and pull you down with him into the waters of his joyous yet yearning ways but the coal haired boy enveloped you in an enticing embrace and with his lips hovering slightly above your ear, whispered, “Tell him to get ready.”

“I swear to God, I hate basketball,” your brother exhaled out in utter annoyance, to which you furrowed your brows at.

You always shifted in your seat restlessly, your heart palpitating at an ungodly speed of McQueen, eyes sought frantically to avoid meeting your brother’s, upon the dreaded word of “basketball” ringing in your ears. It wasn’t that you abhorred it, no, not at all; you absolutely appreciated the art of dunking and the pleasing note of swish through the hoop, but just not the people you knew personally who partook in it.

There’s always a Montague and Capulet narrative happening somewhere in the universe, always, and it just so happened that you were struck with the curse by some godforsaken entity of destiny of landing a role in your life as the fresh faced, ever so naive, youngest member of the Capulets–Juliet. And you dreaded the direction your supposed fairytale was headed the first time your boyfriend asked you to watch his basketball game, which oddly enough, was the same one your brother requested you to “bring all your hot friends” to.

As strange as it sounded, it wasn’t your brother’s undeniable libido for your friends that irked you and made you hesitate going to a basketball game, to which you’ve never thought twice about before, but it was the statement of, “God I am going to crush number 10’s ass.”

Number 10. Number fucking 10. Of course, it had to be the player that sweat through blue polyester and nylon, donning number 10 in white on the front and back. It could have been player number 13 or 17, for God’s sake it could have even been a negative number sported on the jersey, yet it all had to align in the cosmos to be player number 10.

You didn’t certainly deem ESP to be something legitimate, but on that day you swore to god your mind fucked you royally in the ass and placed you in Soonyoung’s dorm room the night before. It was nothing out of the ordinary, really, nothing but the sight of a teenage boy’s niche, because a lot of basketball players had to have chosen the number 10 for their jersey, right?

The environment malfunctioned instantaneously with the repetition of “I am going to crush number 10’s ass” circling about a short circuit in your mind. From that moment onward, the sight of the jersey was unquestionably more radiant that it could have ever been, with the blinding, white number ten atop Soonyoung’s chair cackling obstreperously at your oh shit moment. Tuning in to your brother slander your university’s rival, Soonyoung’s school, was always such a joy (not) to participate in.

Every “basketball” here and there snagged you by the ear and dragged you to hell and back with it, provoking the cracks of your palm to drench in sweat and legs to quiver more than you had felt around Soonyoung before dating him.

“Yeah I mean it’s not like you’ve worked your entire ass off the past 4 years or so to even set foot on the college court you've been dreaming of since you were 13!” Diverting your brother’s mental debate on his love of the sport, it was a necessity to pluck something else from thin air to talk about, and not your school’s rival when they had games against each other, which was seemingly a bloodbath in their perspective.

Trying to escape your brother’s trash talk of Soonyoung’s team was walking through an eternal, pitch black, underground tunnel, no goddamn escape.

“They only got us last time because of number 10’s foolery. Jesus Christ, the kid better slow down or he’s wasting stamina. Can’t believe he holds the title of captain, like me. I motherfucking swear to God if I have to listen to his loud ass winning chant–” yadah yadah, number 10 this, number 10 that.

You would have dozed off to your brother’s lovely lullaby of scorn towards your boyfriend had it not been for a text…from your boyfriend.

[spoonyoung]

hii hiiiii heyyyy hello bby Hhhii babe i miss youuuuu hi!

[y/n]

i can tell u’re tired :( don’t be

[spoonyoung]

he's going to crush me dang flabbit

y/n

so ur nervous ??? bby it’s just a game istg,,both of you treat it like warfare

[incoming call: spoonyoung]

Shit, what the hell? This bitch, right now? In this economy, at this time?

Inside your chest was a drumline pounding, giving it their all, threatening to burst out and announce to your brother that “Hey, your rival is dating your sister! They’re probably going to fuck later but you don’t know about any of it!”

You would plummet into poignancy if you didn’t pick up his call, because there was no chance you could see him everyday, so honestly fuck that you guys attended different schools, and resorting to calling each other did bring both of you to ease, but not at this goddamn, forsaken time, with one you love phoning you with 17,000 vibrations per second, and the other idiot you were practically forced to love, perched next to you, indignantly gripping the wheel with such force you couldn’t decide which one generated more turbulence within you.

Tensely clutching what was now a scorching piece of metal, you held it up conscientiously to your ear, and forced yourself to breathe out calmly and collectively. Every single mention, tidbit and strand, bob and fragment of Soonyoung that was mentioned around you when you were with your brother grabbed your trachea in its firm hold and forced the wind out of you.

“Hey, Hoshi,” you managed to choke out in a level headed manner.

Hoshi. That was what you and Soonyoung agreed to nickname him if you ever picked up a call from him around your brother or his teammates, but god forbid you were actually allowed to have a life of any sort!

“Babe,” Soonyoung mewled out from the other line, “I actually can’t do this. Don’t tell him, but your brother is really good...of course he is.”

Frowning because of Soonyoung’s lack of usual mirth and brimming confidence, you sighed, “If you let it get to you, then your thoughts affect your actions, and you don’t want that to happen right? You’ll be fine...and I’m not just saying this to say something, but you’re really good too, and you can’t let one person bring your entire mood down...even if...you know…”

“Will you at least come with me to my dorm after the game?”

“Oh you know I’ll be doing more than that,” giggling into your phone, trying to sound as enticing as possible, completely engrossed in this very conversation, as it was all the time talking with Soonyoung.

Both of you had a habit of drastically turning your talks from upside downs to those of obvious elation. They were conversations sometimes needed to be kept in the comforting privacy, selfishly not wanting to let anyone else in on the baby i missed you’s and the do you need anything from the boba shop’s and literally you don’t have the right to look this good’s.

Startled by the grunting and hacking oh so wonderfully expired by the total jackass to your left, you contended to the third degree, with the patience that was never really there starting to thin out, “Do you need something?”

It wasn’t uncommon for Soonyoung to call coincidentally at the times you were with—more like right next to—his rival, probably because his