#i suppose in that case then maybe yes i could see myself going as fucking insane

[favroitecrime]

finally watched west side story. #that scene from where anita and graziella reach for each other… yeah. one of two scenes that shook me to the core

[rafesfavgirl]

boy, you got her — r. cameron

part 1. part 2. part 3. here's part 4 (or whatever part this is to you, depending on how much you've read). i just couldn't help myself :)

❝ it's true, swear, scouts honor you knew what you wanted and,  boy, you got her ❞

pairing: rafe cameron x pogue!reader

context: after a fallout at the boneyard with jj and kie, you agree to a date with rafe.

words: 1.9k+

warnings: jealous!jj, mean!jj (kind of), so so SO fluffy.

"look, i know it's kinda sudden, a'ight?" rafe glances over at you, one hand on the steering wheel. "and you don't have to answer right now. just think about it."

when you and jj broke up, the last thing you would've guessed to happen next was getting into a friends-with-benefits situation with rafe cameron. now, you were sitting in the passenger seat of his truck after he just defended you to your ex-boyfriend and asked you out on a date. 

was it too soon? probably. could you really see it working? maybe. did you want to go? yes—as crazy as that sounded.

you turn your head towards him and shake your head. "i don't have to think about it."

a small smile pulls at the corner of his lips, but he fights it, just in case you said no. "you don't?"

"let's do it."

"yeah?" a chuckle falls from his lips, his smile widening.

"yeah," you nod, as he pulls the car to a stop in front of your family's house on the cut. you lean in to place a kiss on his cheek, making them turn the lightest shade of crimson, before opening your door to hop out. "come pick me up at noon tomorrow."

—

"fuck, fuck, fuckkkkk!" you slam your closet door close, just as your older brother peeks in to see where all the commotion was coming from.

"the hell's the matter with you?" he eyes you carefully, leaning against the doorway, sipping on a can of soda.

you ignore him and begin pacing around the room, tossing clothes from your dresser onto the bed. "what the fuck am i suppose to wear?" you lay out one casual outfit—a crochet top and dark-washed shorts—and one fancier outfit—a short, white floral sundress with pink flowers.

"since when do you care what you wear?" your brother walks into your room and looks at the clothes laid out on your bed.

"since i'm going on a date," you say, nibbling on your thumb, as your eyes shifted back and forth between the two outfits.

"jj's taking you out?" he asks, looking at you, clearly caught by surprise.

jj was never really the "date" type—not that you minded. while the two of you would spend time together all the time, you'd mostly do it with the rest of the pogues. either that, or you'd hang out in your room or the chateau.

"no," you shake your head. "we broke up."

"so who you goin' out with then?"

you pick up the dress from the bed, and hold it out in front of you, while turning to look into your full-length mirror. "...rafe cameron."

your brother almost chokes on his soda as he snaps his head towards you. "rafe cameron? you're goin' out with a kook?"

"is it really that much of a surprise?" you raise a brow and look at him through the mirror.

"nah," he shakes his head and shrugs. "just didn't think kook was your style."

"well i appreciate your insight, y/b/n, but it's time to go," you turn to shoo him out of the room and push him out your door.

"hey, could you—" before he could even finish his sentence, you slam the door in his face and return to getting dressed.

while you didn't clear up with rafe exactly what this date would entail, you figured it’d be better to play it safe than be sorry—he was a kook, after all—so you took off your robe and slipped into your mini sundress, before sitting at your desk to crimp your hair and scatter little braids around your head and do your makeup.

after doing so, your phone dings with a text from him, as you slip on some flat sandals.

rafe: downstairs, your brother let me in.

giving yourself one more glance at the mirror to fix your necklaces, you run your hands through your hair and spray on some perfume, before scurrying out your bedroom door and down the hall to greet rafe sitting in the living room with your brother sitting across from him.

"so what are you intentions with my little sister?" your brother asks, just in time for you to intervene.

"oh my god, y/b/n," you say, as rafe stands to greet you. "hey."

you walk over to him and he squeezes you to his side. "hey, doll."

"where we headed?" you asked, noticing him in a salmon colored polo shirt—which somewhat matched the color of the flowers on your dress—and light grey shorts. 

"a little change of plans, actually," he tells you. "i gotta go to this brunch at the club cause my dad's getting some award. you don't mind, do you?"

"we can totally leave any time you want," he adds, when a look of apprehension crosses your face.

you slowly nod, your eyes meeting his. "okay."

"yeah?" a small smile forms on his lips when you agree.

"yeah, let's go," you nod again, before turning to pull him towards the door.

"don't bring her back too late!" your brother jokingly calls after the two of you, as you walk out the front door.

"you're not dad!" you yell back, closing the door behind you.

—

the minute you enter a banquet hall at the country club, decked out with several round tables and decorations, full of kooks dressed in designer sundresses and polos, it dawns on you just how different your worlds are.

rafe was the kook king. these fancy brunches were a part of his weekly routine, while the fanciest place you'd ever been was the diner your parents took you to on your trip to new york a month ago.

"you ok?" rafe's hand snakes around the small of your back and he leans into you when he notices you glancing around, your fingers fiddling with each other. "hey," his finger comes under your chin to make you face him. "don't fret, a'ight? they'll love you."

they? who the fuck is they?

"top, kelce," rafe calls out to two of his friends, both of whom are dressed just like him, as he leads you to their table, which also sat two other girls—who you recognized to be rafe's sisters. "this is y/n."

"topper," the blond one holds out a hand to you, and the dark skinned one does too. "kelce."

"y/n," you shake both their hands, as rafe pulls out a chair for you to sit down. "it's nice to meet y'all."

"oh my god," the young girl seated next to sarah widens her eyes at you from across the table. "you're that girl rafe's been sneaking in and out of the house at night!"

"wheeze," sarah throws her a look, before smiling at you. "sorry about her, she has no filter. i'm sarah."

"yeah, i know," you nod at her. "kiara's talked about you."

"oh," the smile on her face drops a little. "you're friends with kie?"

"not anymore," you shake your head, and sarah's smile returns. "we were, but… she's showed her true colors." you reach for the glass of water in front of you and take a sip.

"tell me about it," sarah scoffs. "i had to learn that the hard way."

you continue making small talk with sarah, realizing she wasn't half the bitch kiara made her out to be, while rafe's hand rested on your thigh, as he talked to kelce and topper.

"drinks?" you hear a familiar drawl behind you, and find jj standing over you with a platter of mimosas, dressed like a waiter. "y/n?"

a smirk comes across rafe's lips as he turns his head, eyes shifting between the two of you. "hey, man. just one for my girl."

jj's clicks his tongue, as rafe smiles at you and gives your thigh a squeeze, but does his job, and leans down to hold the platter out to you.

"thanks," you avoid eye contact with him as you grab a drink from the platter, and are thankful when sarah calls on him from across the table.

"i'll take one too," she says and jj rounds the table to allow her to grab a drink, his disappointed eyes meeting yours.

a part of you felt bad—it had only been about a month—but then again, he moved on while you two were still together. so was there really a reason for you to feel guilty? you were just doing what he did—but better. at least you waited until the relationship ended.

"i'm gonna go to the bathroom real quick," you whisper to rafe, who gave you a small nod.

"why?" he asked, concern falling over his features. "you okay?"

"yeah," you assure him. "i just gotta pee. i'll be back."

—

by the time you got back from the bathroom, applause was erupting around the room, as rafe, sarah, and wheezie joined their dad on stage with their stepmom.

a smile came across your face as his eyes met yours from across the room and you leaned an elbow on the counter of the bar beside you.

"can't believe you stooped this low," jj comes up beside you, placing the platter down on the bar and downing one of the drinks himself.

"no," you turn your head to look at him and shake your head when rafe becomes occupied taking pictures with his family. "we're not doing this here."

you head out of the room, and he follows. "why? scared your new kook friends are gonna realize you're not one of them? i mean, seriously, y/n— how far are you willing to take this? just to-"

you snap your head towards him. "just to what, jj?"

"to spite me," he says. "i mean, have you looked in the mirror lately?" he motions a hand at your dress. "you're dressed like them, you're eating brunch with them, you're with him—this isn't you!"

"no," you hold a finger up to him. "i am exactly who i've always been. you just don't know how i look when i'm not in love with you."

a scoff leaves his mouth. "so our relationship really meant that little to you, huh?"

was he for real?

you narrow your eyes and shook your head. "no. you don't get to use that against me. you meant the world to me, jj. you were the one who screwed shit up the second you decided to sleep with kie. you are not turning this on me."

"oh my god, would you get over it?" he asked, clearly frustrated. "you slept with rafe cameron, y/n! we're even."

"even?" you spat. "after you betrayed me? broke my trust? my heart? oh, you have no idea just how even it's about to be."

"the hell's going on out here?" rafe joins you and jj outside the banquet hall, immediately coming to your side, a hand on your lower back. "is he bothering you?"

"no," you shake your head. "jj's shift just ended. he was about to go."

rafe shifts his eyes between the two of you, you and jj's eyes focused on each other.

your ex-boyfriend scoffs and shakes his head, but walks away, taking rafe by surprise.

"you wanna tell me what that was all about?" he looks at you, after watching jj leave. 

"nothing to tell," you shrug with a smile, tilting your head up at him. "you wanna head back inside?"

"you wanna stay?"

"yeah," you nod, snaking your arm around his back. "i do."

part 5.

i love soft rafe almost as much as i love canon rafe tbh.

reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated <33

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[fire-lizard-ro]

Ah yes. I've come to inquire about a certain blond fellow with the pretty eyes. Aventurine

So here's my bit. Reader is going through a break up with Aventurine and then they make up. I'm writing this while attention (females perspective)is playing in my mind. Maybe you could like incorporate it into the ask. Because I'm thinking in a way that the reader is trying to get Aventurines attention whilst keeping him at a distance. Sor of cat and mouse. And he's buying into it though he's much prefer without the sneakiness.

Also I hope this asks finds you in good spirits and a joyful mood. Caio.

Okay, okay- I have no clue what attention is. A song? I’m not good at this game help-

Anyways I will try my best.

Thank you sm for the ask. 🫶

I really do love this twinky little blond man and I’m happy to be writing about him.

It’s like two in the morning rn and I’m rambling here to distract myself from things. ANY!!! WAYS!!!

No gender is mentioned for the reader.

CW: exactly one (1) 2.1 spoiler (Aventurine’s real name- It’s at the very end), break up-make up time, mild angst bc ofc there is it’s Aventurine, hurt/comfort, happy ending hehe 🫶

Writing under the cut (SFW):

You couldn’t help but smile as you saw a certain someone’s nickname flashing across your screen. Right on time.

Though you supposed he knew what you were doing. After all, Aventurine is smart. Even if he didn’t realize it right away, he had to know by now.

You picked up the phone.

“Well hello, stranger. To what do I owe the honor?” It was hard to keep the sly lilt and inflection out of your voice when you knew he was definitely gripping his phone tightly on the other end of the line.

“I’m sure you know, dear. You’re slick but not that slick. You’ll have to do better than that to outplay me,” Aventurine said, his voice still fixed in that unhurried cadence and unbothered tone like usual despite the situation.

You rested your cheek on a hand and leaned back in your seat with a smile. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. In any case, it’s a bit odd of you to call me. After all, we did break up. You remember that, I’m sure.”

You could practically hear the leather of his gloves crunching (is it crunching I forgot-) as he clenched a fist, keeping hold of his restraint.

The two of you had been dancing around each other like cat and mouse. Though at this point, who was the cat and who was the mouse was anyone’s guess.

Despite having gotten to the point of breaking up, you ended up missing him a lot. And thus you began the dance only to find his hand already waiting for you. It was unspoken that you both wanted the same thing. But every time he drew closer, you’d pull back. A frustrating back and forth that seemed to confuse him. Aventurine was sure you wanted him back. And yet you never let the cat finally catch his prey. Why? He didn’t get it.

“Oh sweetheart- Let’s not keep pretending, yes? I know you’ve been trying to catch my attention. You can’t hide your intentions.”

“Seems it’s working, then.”

It was true. You had been doing things to keep Aventurine’s eyes on you. Despite playing a game of keep away with him with how you’d draw him in and push him away, you didn’t want him looking at anyone else. At the same time, you weren’t sure if you’d truly be willing to get together again. What if the train went off the tracks again? The first time had been rough enough with the two of you waging a passive aggressive war and pointedly ignoring each other at some points.

And thus, this odd little game of yours. One that Aventurine was growing tired of it he had finally called you.

“Let’s talk in person, shall we?” “What-?”

A knock at the door. No fucking way- You opened the door to see your favorite the blond man himself.

“Hiya, darling dearest~”

“Aventurine.”

“No need to be like that. I was serious about that talk.” He then pulled a bouquet of your favorite flowers out from behind his back. “For you,” Aventurine said with that stupid charming smirk of his. You squinted at him for a moment before accepting the flowers with a huff and a faux annoyed, “Fine.”

You were a bit conflicted. You were excited that he was here. Especially because he seemed desperate enough to actually seek you out and talk to you in person. But at the same time this was not something you calculated or expected to happen.

“I know you’re glad to see me. You don’t have to pretend,” he practically purred as you shot a glare over your shoulder, still keeping up appearances. “Oh but of course- I’m absolutely just tickled pink.”

Aventurine chuckled, tipping his head down to look at you over his shades, lids low and eyes practically glowing. “You always did have a way with words, sweetheart.”

He then took off the sunglasses (and oh that was another stupid, dorky little thing about him you found oddly endearing- shades inside a building- stupid silly adorable man-) and plopped down on your couch while you put the flowers down on the counter in the kitchen. You’d deal with them later. For now you had him to deal with. You sat in the chair instead of the couch. He pouted playfully about it, but didn’t comment. “I’ll cut to the chase- I want you back. And I know you want me back, too. I just can’t figure out why you’re leading me closer and then shoving me away. I’m starting to get the feeling you just like my attention. But even so- We both know the truth. So why don’t you just give in, lovely? I know you want to,” he said, surprisingly not using the old song and dance of leading someone around to get the information he wanted. He didn’t talk in circles and didn’t even seem all that flirty despite his words. He was… oddly serious.

“And what about the reason we broke up before?” You didn’t even try to pretend anymore. Aventurine has always been able to see right through you. That ability had clearly not gone anywhere. “I can’t make promises, but we can talk. We’ll work something out. I’ll even compromise on it.” Compromise was not an Aventurine word. Any deals he made were made in his favor without the other person even knowing what they were going to lose. Your incredulity must have been showing on your face more than you thought because he laughed lightly, the sound somehow dry- tired and heavy. “I see that look. I’m serious, baby. I’m sorry I ever let you go. You’re the only one who stayed. The only one who has stuck around. I need you. I’ll give it all to you. My attention, my trust, my… my heart, even. You don’t have to play these games to make me want you.”

Now you feel a bit guilty. But at the same time, elated. Even before you broke up, he never once brought up matters of trust and love. He seemed far too uncomfortable even edging around the topic. But now Aventurine was the first one to bring it up.

You said nothing but silently stood. And his eyes dimmed, waiting for disappointment. But then you walked over and sat next to him, pulling him into a hug. “I missed you, Aven.”

He let out a shaky sigh and wrapped you up in his embrace, arms tight around you.

“Kakavasha.”

“What?”

“You should tell me, ‘I missed you, Kakavasha,’” he (Kakavasha?) said, his voice was shaky with emotion.

“I… I missed you, Kakavasha.”

“And I love you, sweetheart.”

[lixzey]

Letters

info: mentions of blood, car accident, foster home, and death

The Eleventh Letter

Timothée Chalamet is one of the most loved actors in the world. He had girls all over the world who love him. But there's one girl, the most special in his eyes. Not that he's biased—or maybe he is, but Y/N made him feel things no other girl ever had. Timothée had dated his fair share of women: Madonna's daughter: Lourdes, Johnny Depp's daughter: Lily-Rose, hell he even dated Kylie Jenner. But none of them compare to Y/N L/N. 

Yes, she was hurting—he couldn't deny that she was broken but Timothée hoped that she was alright and still breathing the same air as him. He wanted to help her or whatever it was she wanted. He didn't understand it, she was just another fan in the eyes of everyone else. Yet, here he was flying half across the continent to find her even if he had no clue whether she was at the address his Private Investigator found or not. It was a huge leap of faith, but he didn't mind. He needed to find her, he needed to let her know that he was listening, he needed to be there for her during her battles. But, what would happen when he finally sees her? Would she be happy?

Would he be devastated? Timothée looked at her picture again. Her beautiful smile, he could've sworn her laugh could light up the whole room. He wanted to run his fingers through her long hair—which made him feel like a creep for wanting to do that to a girl who he'll meet for the very first time. He wondered what it would feel like to have her in his arms. Y/N looked delicate like a flower—and if he'd wrap her in his arms, she would break. But deep down, Timothée knew that wasn't the case. Y/N was strong and brave, like a soldier going into war. Though, he still wanted to comfort her and tell her that everything would be alright and soon daylight will come. 

Timothée closed his wallet and put it back in his pocket. He then reached for the eight unopened letters in his carry on backpack. He took the eleventh letter from the stack, and put the rest back. Timothée gently ripped open the envelope, it was dated August 5th, 2023. 

Dear Timothée, 

Can you keep a secret?

I want to tell you everything. I want to tell you everything so badly, I want you to understand who I am, who I was, and who I'm going to be. 

Well, here it goes. I hope you don't 'betray' me. Who am I kidding? Anyways….

I was ten. I was ten fucking years old when life decided to fuck me up. My parents died in a car accident. I was in that accident, unfortunately, I survived. My mother used her body as a shield to protect me. I was crying loud because I was scared—what kid wouldn't be scared? My mother was bleeding, my father was unconscious, and still my mother was whispering softly in my ear that everything was going to be okay. Everything else was a blur, that's all that I remembered. The next thing I knew, I woke up in the hospital—alone and confused. 

I always ask myself, “Why did it have to be me?” I used to be this happy kid, with a happy family. And now? I'm this broken girl who doesn't know what else to do with her life. 

You might as now call me The Girl Who Lived. Yeah, yeah, I know I quoted Harry Potter.

My parents couldn't have any children. My mother had been told that it was nearly impossible for her to bear a child, but then after years of trying, I was born. 

I was a miracle, their little miracle. I was almost named Miracle, you know. My parents said I brought light into their lives. I made everything in their lives brighter and full of meaning. I was the gift they waited so long for. 

My life was full of love and happiness. I grew up seeing my parents be in love. I always wanted to fall in love like how my parents did, as a kid I thought of their love story as something that came out of a fairytale book. It's kinda cliché, but I loved it. They started out in college as pen pals, it was random really, because my father wasn't supposed to get my mother's letters because they were for someone else, who had the same name as my father. They exchanged letters without my mother knowing that the one who's replying to her letters wasn't the one she really intended. But they fell in love. Yeah, my mom did get mad at my dad for lying, but dad was persistent. He apologized every day for that until they graduated college. After college, they met again at a café where mom worked. Sparks flew, and after two years they got married. After six years, they had me. Ten years later, they died. 

I wish I had died in that accident too. I wouldn't have spent the past eleven years in complete misery. Two days after my parents' funeral, I was sent to a foster home, until my aunt from my father's side could pick me up.

The day my aunt picked me up, my life became hell.

I can't write anymore Tim, fuck. I'm sorry, I just can't write anymore—tears are clouding my vision. I'll tell you more in my next letter, I promise. 

All my love, 

Y/N, The Girl Who Should've Died. 

p.s: sorry for the tear stains.

Timothée stared at the tear stains at the end of the paper—he could feel her pain just by looking at how much her tears stained the paper. He let out a shaky breath, before tucking the letter back in its envelope. He then looked at the remaining seven letters, waiting to be read. Timothée wanted to just teleport to where this girl was, if she was okay or not—he really wanted to hug her tight. This girl, Y/N, went through so much at a young age. He thought about what could possibly have happened when she started to live with her aunt. He assumed that her aunt mistreated her, and he felt a surge of anger course through his veins. How could someone hurt a child who had lost her parents? He wanted to hurt them, hell he wanted to punch someone right then and there on the plane. He was fuming, he was having trouble calming down. If he didn't he'd get arrested, and that won't be good. Timothée took a deep breath and opened his wallet again. The sight of Y/N's smile calmed him down. 

“Y/N, oh Y/N. Why do you make me feel like this?” Timothée muttered, the pad of his thumb caressing the photo as if he was trying to wipe her tears away. Timothée wanted nothing more than to be there for her right now. Before Y/N's letters, he was a normal guy—a normal actor, technically—but Y/N made him travel across the country just to find her, or even get a glimpse of her. There was something, and that something was pulling him in deep—deeper than he had ever been before. 

Who would've thought that Timothée Chalamet would fall in love with a girl who wrote him letters?

@helens3amstuff @gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @lovemelikecrazyiloveyoucrazy @bobthe-turmpetman29

[omegalomania]

What are some of your favorite aro-/ace-coded fob lyrics?

oh fuck yes a little bowl of seeds just for me

boycott love from disloyal order of water buffaloes is a personal favorite of mine. its a lyric i really really want tattooed at some point. that's not the only lyric i latch onto from an aro perspective but it's probably the biggest one

basically the entirety of it's hard to say "i do" when i don't but a special mention goes to you are appealing to emotions that i simply do not have as well as the only ring i want buried with me are the ones around my eyes

it's true romance is dead / i shot it in the chest and in the head from the music or the misery is also a favorite of mine, also just that whole song in general

i thought i loved you but it was just how you looked in the light in hum hallelujah resonates with a lot of queer folks i've found, and it's no different for me

same goes for it's a strange way of saying that i know i'm supposed to love you from g.i.n.a.s.f.s.

i'm outside the door, invite me in / so we can go back and play pretend from alone together brings me back to when i was trying to perform heteronormativity/amatonormativity even if it was making me miserable

i also hold to a very similar vibe with she said "i love you 'till i don't" / i am just playing house, no idea what i'm doing now from sunshine riptide and also most of burna boy's verse, frankly. i fell in love but i didn't fall down and feel like i'm bulletproof, baby in particular

american beauty/american psycho, particularly the first verse. i think i fell in love again / maybe i just took too much cough medicine

golden is a big one for queer folks in general i've found. the chorus especially hits hard from an aro and/or ace reading. and i saw god cry in the reflection of my enemies / and all the lovers with no time for me

i've got a dark alley and a bad idea that says you should shut your mouth is a heavy song no matter how you slice it. but that chorus gets to me in particular: we can fake it for the airwaves / force our smiles, baby, half-dead / from comparing myself to everyone else around me

the kids aren't alright reads to me as one big anthem for platonic love above anything romantic, which resonates super hard with me. the second verse has a lot of good lines that i latch onto from an aroace lens too. your love is anemic and i can't believe / that you couldn't see it coming from me

pretty much the whole chorus of HOLD ME TIGHT OR DON'T does it for me, and those verses have got some good aroallo vibes too! i never really feel a thing... confidants but never friends...

the whole of fake out is a gimme. that chorus rings real true. starts with love is in the air, i just gotta find a window to break out and finishing with but it was all a fake-out

i've got all this ringing in my ears and none on my fingers is one that has another highly applicable title but the whole refrain of the truth hurts worse / than anything i could bring myself to do to you paired with the one-two punch of that second verse REALLY gets under my skin

and of course, the culminating one: you are what you love, not who loves you from save rock and roll. obviously there are a LOT of ways to read that line

there are a couple other songs i latch onto - wilson (expensive mistakes); a little less "sixteen candles", a little more "touch me"; the (after) life of the party to name a few - but the ones listed above are the big lyrics that resonate with me on a personal level

just in general i have a shitton of fob over on my aro playlist (which doubles as a general aroace/queer playlist but has a lot of emphasis on aromanticism) in case i forgot to mention anything but like i said those are the big ones

[captain-mj]

Can we get a cowboy hat rule one short with a shop of your choice? Or a part 3 for the stripper AU did Ghost finish thinking about Soaps offer of dating? 👉👈🥺

Part 1 Part 2

Stripper au!! I can definitely do that!! They fuck in this one finally

Alejandro threw open Soap's office door before closing it with just as much gusto. "I have a date with Rodolfo!!"

Soap smiled. "That's great!"

Alejandro nodded. "I'm so happy. Something must have changed his minds, but he's finally said yes."

Soap had a funny feeling of a certain Simon Ghost Riley was behind it but he didn't say anything. "Good. Where do you plan on taking him?"

"Nicest restaurant I can. I'm going to be woo him." Alejandro grinned.

Soap nodded. "Have fun dude! I'm happy for you." He watched Alejandro leave, going straight to Gaz's office. Once he was sure he was gone, he texted Ghost. "Thanks for Ale."

"It was mostly for myself. Rudy was upset he hadn't come back in a few days. Said I could pull some strings if he'd finally ask the guy out."

"Well, thanks anyway."

"Of course, Johnny."

Soap stared at the text message for a minute, trying to think of a response when Ghost sent a follow up text.

"I've been thinking."

"Made a decision?"

"You really have no ulterior motive other than getting dicked down. It's funny."

"No, no. Not just dicked down. I want to wine and dine you too."

Ghost took a while to respond. "You a gentleman, huh? Alright. Come to my office."

Soap rushed out and over to Ghost's office. He knocked excitedly and Ghost opened the door. His mask was up and he was in a dark green cardigan that looked oversized despite how big he was.

Simon was... well. Dorky. Soft. Always dressed in comfy but still dark clothing.

Johnny felt such a rush of affection for him. Simon lost a tiny bit of the confidence he had when he saw the lovestruck look on Johnny's face.

"Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"Being sappy. Do I have to take my shirt off to seem cool to you?"

"Nah, but I do think it would be nice."

Simon rolled his eyes and motioned for him to come in. Johnny did what he was supposed to and followed after him, grinning like an idiot.

Ghost sighed and locked the door. "Fine. I'll date you. Only because you've been so cute about it."

Soap threw his hands up in a cheer before quickly bringing them back down when Ghost turned to look at him. He got to see him laugh.

Simon took his mask off carefully. "It's okay. If you need to do a little celebration, I'd love to watch." The scarring. It look old, clearly stuff from childhood even if Soap couldn't think of a reason why a child would have a snake that close to their face.

Johnny smiled. "Nae, I'm much more interested in the bonnie in from of me."

"Bonnie?"

"Means pretty."

Soap felt his heart skip a beat in his chest at Ghost's blush. His whole face turned red, all the way down his neck. "Shut up."

"Aye? You're bashful?"

Ghost scoffed but he couldn't hide it.

Soap grabbed his cardigan carefully, not wanting to move too fast just yet. "You do look nice. Thought I'd say it in the Queen's english in case you had any doubts."

Ghost looked down at him and shook his head. "I'm already regretting my decision."

Before Soap could think of something clever or even something smart, Ghost leaned down a little. He kissed Soap's cheek. "Maybe you can give me the lap dance next time. So we're even."

Soap turned bright red and had to look away.

Ghost laughed. "Now who's a bashful bonnie."

Soap swiped at him and laughed. "Oh fuck off. So our first date."

"I was thinking right now. Coffee."

"This is why you're the man for me, Ghostie."

Ghost hit his shoulder but without his mask, Soap could see him blushing. Before they departed, Ghost unfortunately put the mask back on, fortunately though, he did let Soap get a kiss before he did.

Soap followed him like a moth to a particularly bright lamp. He sat with him at a coffeeshop and ordered his drink before talking with him for a few minutes.

Then hours.

Then it hit night and they were still there. Talking.

The poor barista had to gently tell them they needed to leave since the place was closed.

"Want dinner?" Soap asked, smiling at him.

Ghost nodded. "I could eat."

Somehow, they ended up at Soap's place. Soap was pressed to his counter, Ghost kissing frantically down his neck and chest.

Ghost picked him up by his thighs and put him on the counter, kissing him properly without having to lean down. He slotted perfectly between Soap's thighs.

Soap pulled away, putting his hand firmly on Ghost's chest. "Simon."

"Yes?"

"I don't actually know how to lap dance. I'd just sit there like a dead fish."

Ghost stared at him, almost unnervingly long before kissing him. "God you're such a loser."

"Hey-"

Ghost started to unbutton his pants and Soap quickly shut up. He closed his eyes and groaned once Ghost finally got a hold of him. He had been thinking of this moment for weeks. Ever since he saw those leather bound thighs and lovely abs.

Soap had to stop him again though and Ghost glared, clearly telling him he better not be making another joke. "Don't want your hands."

Ghost leaned in, noses bumping each other. He then threw Soap over his shoulder and carried him towards the bedroom. He dropped Soap on the bed, watching him bounce before going through his drawers. "Where do you keep your lube?"

"Bottom drawer."

"Good boy."

Soap groaned and started to kick off all of his clothing. He grabbed one of his pillows and got comfortable on his stomach.

Ghost looked him over appreciatively once he found his target. He got on top of Soap and pressed him down a little. With one hand, he pulled his ass up, squeezing.

His hands were skillful and patient as they got Soap ready. Soap was not patient at all, thrashing and pushing himself back and telling Ghost to please speed it up.

Ghost ignored him, working him open over and over again. He took the rest of his clothing off and set it on top of Soap's clothing. He laid on top of him and pushed in, holding Soap in a death grip.

Soap buried his face in the pillows and groaned. "Holy fuck you're big." He arched his back, determined to get Ghost as deep as he could.

Ghost put his hand on the back of Soap's neck to pin him and rocked his hips gently. "Thank you. People at the club certainly like it."

Soap's eyes flashed and then narrowed. He pressed further back and grabbed Ghost's other hand, kissing it. The two of them moved back and forth in sync, something just working between them.

Soap groaned and his body tightened when he tensed. Ghost pressed tighter against his back and, although he was quiet, he was right in Soap's ear so he could hear him. Small groans and curses.

Soap bit his wrist and he arched. He tried his best to be quiet, but Ghost was dragging out noises Soap didn't know he was capable of making. Every thrust or grind was in just the right spots and Soap was pretty sure he only lasted as long as he had out of the fear of embarrassing himself.

Ghost sped up though and Jesus wept.

Soap came hard, untouched and so flustered he was sure Ghost could tell it wasn't all from exertion.

Ghost breathed gently right next to his ear. "Good lad. Let it all out for me."

Fucking hell.

Soap closed his eyes and felt his cock twitch.

"Is it okay if I come inside?"

He nodded quickly and bit the pillow as Ghost slammed into him. His eyes rolled back as he started to get overstimulated but he wanted, needed, Ghost to finish in him.

Ghost wrapped both arms around him and buried his face in his hair as he came, squeezing tight.

Soap reached up and ruffled his hair.

[modern-day-bard]

Other Duties As Assigned: A Joel Miller AU Fanficiton

Content warning: 18+ This story includes mature themes such as drinking, stalking, violence, and explicit smut. Minors, do not interact.

Chapter 13: Lights Out

Word count: 4.4k

Gwen

Naturally, the more I open up, the further I back away. But what was I supposed to do? Besides whatever I was feeling when Joel latched onto my hip at Landon’s gallery, I also wasn’t lying to Nyah and Harper. I felt guilty. And I almost…appreciated the level of concern he had over the gallery incident. Sure, it was just a champagne flute, but to Harper’s point, maybe he’s taking this so seriously because it is. Bare minimum, it will keep my friends from worrying about me so much.

And fine, I might have felt worse after I overheard Joel’s nightmares.

I wonder how long he’ll deny it. Multiple nights in a row, shouting at himself to ‘wake up.’ It certainly woke me up. Except unlike how I might feel about this situation if it were a few weeks ago, I wanted to wake him. Not to make him stop, but to make it stop for him.

I also need these feelings to stop. It could be lingering sexual frustration from the club guy and his ignorance of the female anatomy. But when Joel said my name so forcefully, throwing in a ‘ma’am’ no less…I became acutely aware of just how frustrated I’ve been. At him, this company, my situation. I’ve been frustrated for months, and sometimes you just want a release.

To keep things in check, I’ve backed off Joel since our little heart-to-heart in my mom’s music room. His sincerity and boldness only made these foreign, frustrating feelings worse. So, I kept to myself beyond morning pleasantries and the occasional goodnight. Besides a little shopping to find some dresses for this weekend, Evelyn’s suggestions still being lackluster, we hadn’t seen much of each other. I can thank work for that one. It’s kept me so busy I often need to bring my laptop home with me. And now, I’m bringing it on the plane.

Joel is in tow behind me, but I’m trying my best not to think about how his arms look with a duffle bag in one hand, or how his sunglasses perch perfectly on his nose.

I’m just frustrated, I’m just frustrated, I’m just—

“Gwenny, babe, I saved you a seat.”

Okay. Well. Now I’m fucking frustrated.

“In that case I hope a parachute comes with it.” I say it under my breath, not wanting to get into it with Daniel so early in the weekend. Still, when Joel reaches to take my jacket, I give him a knowing look that he reciprocates.

“Guinevere, glad you could make it,” My father says from the far end of the plane, not evening glancing up from his laptop.

As if I had a choice.

I plop down on one of the two couches, the other being occupied by Arthur, Amari, Cyrus, and Paul. Joel takes a seat at the table next to the couch in one of the four adjoining chairs, facing away from me. Of course, it doesn’t take long for Daniel to join. He sits so damn close our knees are practically touching.

“Did you happen to look over the deck I sent to Julian?”

Oh. An actual question.

“Yes, he showed me on Tuesday.”

“And? What do you think?”

“I disagree with—”

“Of course you do.

“You asked,” I hiss, “And I’m giving you an honest answer. You work in one of the most profitable sectors and you still manage to stretch the profit margins thinner and thinner every year. I don’t see the point in expanding right now.”

“Well, because if we don’t break into streaming platforms, we’ll be outdated.”

“Right, but we will certainly be outdated if we go bankrupt. Why not acquire a platform that’s already fully formed first? Get the lay of the land, don’t venture out and create one all our own. It’s too soon.”

Daniel’s beady eyes assess me for a minute. “Asking Julian was just a formality. Radio doesn’t have to weigh in.”

“And yet you did ask Julian, and now you’ve asked me.”

He shrugs, straightening out to take up as much room as possible. “I thought we could start out on a friendly note. It’s going to be a long weekend after all.”

“That it is,” I mumble.

He scooches even closer to me, shoulder to shoulder now.

“Don’t you want to get along?” He whispers, “Just a little?”

I want to gag on his cologne. I’m sure he paid a small fortune for it, and seems to want everyone around him to suffocate on just how expensive he smells. It would be more pleasant to shove the money directly down their throats.

Joel coughs lightly behind me. “Miss Russell? If you have a moment…”

I spring up, taking any excuse to leave behind Daniel’s tornado of spice and overdone vetiver.

“Yes?” I lean a hand against the table.

“We’re wheels up in three!” The pilot calls from the cockpit.

“I was hoping you could look over the security measures for the weekend. There’s just a few things I want you to sign off on.” Joel pulls out his phone, typing briefly.

“That means seatbelts, please,” The pilot calls back again.

“Okay,” I sigh, taking the seat next to him. I hear the engine fire up around us, and we slowly move down the runway. Joel slides his phone over to me, but it’s just an unsent text message made out to me.

There isn’t anything to go over. I thought you might want an excuse to leave Daniel. Feel free to return if you wish.

Despite myself, I almost smile. I was eager to have a reason to leave him behind, and I’m…surprised? Relieved, I guess, that Joel had noticed.

“It might take me a while to read through everything…” I say loudly enough for the couch behind us to hear.

Joel nods, “I would suspect so.”

Quietly, I type back on his phone.

Daniel? Not “Mr. Wilson?” You forgo your professionalism so soon, Mr. Miller.

If there is any flirtatious undertone, I blame boredom. Or maybe Daniel’s fumes were clouding my judgment.

Joel raises a brow, not entirely unamused. He types for a moment before sliding it back.

I called him a jackass the other night. This seemed like a promotion for him.

I stifle a laugh, quickly disguising it as a cough as I type back.

Perhaps a happy medium then? VIP. Very Impertinent Prick. All the promotion he deserves.

Joel reads it, his eyes lighting up. When he looks at me, he’s smiling. Not a full one. I’m not sure he’s capable of that. But still, both the corners of his mouth turn up enough that I can’t help but return it, if only for a moment.

I take my laptop out of my bag as soon as we’re in the air. It’s a short flight to Vermont, but at least it will give me something to do. Something other than noticing how big Joel’s thigh looks next to mine, even with the table blocking part of my view. I also notice how much of an effort he’s making not to touch me. Not even a graze. He’s leaning on his arm against the window, pushing all of his weight to the other side. I know it’s probably out of respect, or actual professionalism, but a very tiny, daring part of me wished he wouldn’t.

I end up moving my mouse from corner to corner of the same document until we land.

- - -

There wasn’t much time between getting our room keys and changing to attend the rehearsal dinner. Thankfully, I was seated in the back. Annabelle was probably hoping this would keep me out of sight and out of mind. Both her’s, and Murphy’s. There are several speeches that declare undying devotion which inherently make me snicker, but I time it properly with bites of my food or sips of my water. When the meal is over, there are a few people I need to say hello to, but it doesn’t take long. I think the majority of the guests are feeling weary, and it shows on their faces.

Plus, I feel like this hotel would make anyone relaxed enough to feel sleepy even if they hadn’t just worked a full day and boarded a flight. Twin Pastures was secluded and absolutely breathtaking. A complete 180 from the hustle of the city. Though I fed off that energy most days, I couldn’t deny that the quiet was somewhat serene. Even the dining room we were in with its exposed dark-wood beams, fireplace, and checkered floor had an aura of calmness to it. The sun had set earlier, so it was too dark to see outside, but from what we passed as we arrived, I knew it had to be sprawling greenery. Something I’ll be sure to check out in the morning. A morning that I hope will not come too soon as I make my way up the stairs to my section of the hotel. Well, really our section, since Joel is right behind me as per usual.

Even though they called this place a hotel, it felt more like an inn. It was cozy and warm, and this side of the building felt weirdly intimate being there were only five or so rooms accessible from this set of stairs. The quietness and close proximity make me pause before entering my room. Joel must notice, because he pauses in front of his door, too.

“I’m just next door,” he says.

I incline my head to the left. “Likewise.”

I stare at him for a moment, admiring his choice of a white button down for once. Not that I didn’t like the flannels and t-shirts, but, this seemed to suit him. I hadn’t really seen him yet tonight with him being seated at the same table as Amari and the other security guards. I’d been stuck with my father, Daniel, and Daniel’s cologne. Now, this wasn’t an unwelcomed sight.

“Goodnight, Miss Russell.” He leans against his door slightly, waiting for me to go inside first like a dog herding sheep.

“Goodnight,” I mimic his tone, unlocking my door and slipping inside before the weight of his eyes on me becomes heavy enough for me to say something stupid.

I am tired, I’ll admit. But when I checked in earlier, I saw a sign in the lobby for a grotto. I think the last time I was able to put on a bathing suit was Dubai, and I packed one just in the hopes that there would be a pool of some sort. The entire building is taken up with Murphy and Annabelle’s family and friends as it’s all been rented for the event. For my friends’ sake, and maybe a touch of Joel’s, I’ll start taking security just a bit more seriously. However, this feels like the perfect time to finally feel alone. To finally not share a wall with someone who is watching, and potentially listening, my every move.

I turn on my TV, increasing the volume enough to drown out any scuffling as I find my swimsuit and grab a towel from the towel warmer. I even turn on the fireplace, partially to add to the white noise, and partially because it will feel good when I come back. I wait another thirty minutes for good measure before tip-toeing my way outside.

It must take me at least three minutes to close my door, ensuring that it’s as silent as possible. After holding my breath while doing so, I make my way down the stairs, smirking to myself. I know Joel came with some serious military training, but I had my own training: being a former teenager of a strict household. If sneaking out was an art form, I’d be headlining one of Landon’s galleries.

I take my time meandering around the place for a bit. It wasn’t huge, but every aspect was so detailed that I wanted to soak it all in. And for the first time in several weeks, since Joel let me have a ‘free day’ that was really a recon day, I was wonderfully, blissfully alone. I can’t take in the grounds at this time of night, but as I follow the signs to the grotto, I don’t even mind. It’s so quiet with everyone else in bed, and the clerk at the front desk is the only person I see on my way.

The grotto is inside what looks and feels like a greenhouse. There are dozens of plants winding their way up the glass walls, and there’s a water feature that trickles down into what looks like a massive hot tub built into the floor. Even with the heat of the room, steam still dances off the surface. Making a bee-line for the water, I audibly sigh when I dip my toe in. There’s no one here, it’s quiet, and the water is scalding. It’s perfect.

Once fully submerged, I’m worried I’ll fall asleep here. My head lulls back, and I use the towel I brought to prop it up. I have no idea how long I sit here, feet kicking lightly underwater, but after a while, all I can focus on is the gentle trickling of the small waterfall colliding into the hot tub.

That is, until the door to the greenhouse slams shut.

I gasp, sitting up as fast as I can. My head spins. I must have been in the water for some time. My eyes meet a very shocked Cyrus.

“Guinevere,” He nearly shouts before his next words come out in a whisper, “I’m sorry to disturb you.”

“No, please,” I wave him over, “You just startled me.”

He hesitates, but eventually makes his way over to the tub. “I can come back later.”

“Don’t be silly. I’ve already been here too long, anyway.” I look down at my pruning fingers.

With one more look of apprehension, he kicks off his flip flops and wades into the water with his t-shirt still on. Cyrus must be in his mid-fifties at this point, but he was a decent looking guy. I didn��t expect any level of self-consciousness. Then again, he and I didn’t regularly socialize with one another. Maybe that makes him anxious.

“I thought everyone had gone to bed” I say, hoping it will relax him.

“I thought so, too. I couldn’t sleep.”

“Too excited for the big day?” I try not to sound too snarky.

Cyrus chuckles, bringing a smile to my face. “Sure. We can say that.”

I give him a small smile, my gaze falling to the gold ring on his finger.

“Lydia couldn’t make it?” I ask.

His face turns red far too quickly for it to be from the hot water. “No, no she’s busy overseas.”

I remember meeting Lydia maybe two times throughout my life, even though Cyrus had been with Russell Corporations longer than I’d been alive. Judging by his reaction, and how she was absent from every holiday party and shareholder dinner, the pair wasn’t exactly the picture of marital bliss. But still, he always wore the ring. And he never said anything bad about her or their relationship.

“Ah, that’s too bad.”

I tip my head back again, prepared to coexist in silence for a while, but then he changes the subject.

“I overheard what you said to Daniel, about the streaming proposition.”

“Oh?” I mean, I figured as much. The rest of the group had been typing on their phones while we were talking. Not much noise to drown out our conversation.

“I think you’re right.”

“Really? That’s refreshing. Is that something the entertainment guys considered?”

“Ehh,” he tips his hand from side to side, “Not so much. Daniel came in guns blazing to start our own so there wasn’t a lot of acquisition talk.”

“Well, then I owe you an apology. He’ll never do it now that I’m the one who suggested it.”

Cyrus regards me for a moment before turning his attention to one of the vines on the wall. “I’m not so sure about that.”

I wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t. My hands may be withering away, but my interest is piqued.

“Why do you say that?”

He hesitates again. “Daniel cares about you.”

I snort. “He doesn’t even care about my opinion.”

“I disagree. He’s just intimated. Every time you’ve shadowed or worked a summer at HQ, you’ve waltzed right in with ideas he never had. If it weren't for you, we would’ve made a deal with Greenprint five years ago. The amount of money we would have spent on the lawyers alone…”

The startup? I’m shocked Cyrus even remembers me being there. Half the board was invested in working with Greenprint, a solar company that promised we could cut our environmental footprint in half. My dad and Daniel, who had newly acquired his dad’s old job, were all-in. The summer after I finished undergrad, I merely suggested we take a visit to their plant to see their work for ourselves. This sent the CEO of Greenprint into a spiral, and it later came out they were a sham and had scammed countless businesses, most of them small and vulnerable, out of millions of dollars. I hardly count that as impressive.

“I attribute that to luck,” I say.

“I attribute it to doing your due-diligence. He’s fond of you. Even if he has a weird way of showing it.”

“He’s fond of you, too. And I don’t see him giving you a condescending nickname.”

“Not to my face,” he laments. “And you two grew up together. How could he not be fond of you?”

Daniel was six years older than me. Compared to a majority of the employees at Russell Corp, I suppose that is rather close in age. We did grow up together in a sense, but there was always distance between us. And I only attribute a portion of that to the age difference.

I must have been lost in thought because Cyrus adds, “Anyway, not my place. Just don’t be surprised if he asks you to save a dance for him tomorrow.”

Barf.

“Thanks for the heads up,” I sit up from my underwater bench, wrapping the towel around me as I exit, “If I stay in here any longer I won’t make it to tomorrow. Have a good night, Cyrus.”

He gives me a nod, “Goodnight.”

I very much regret my decision to walk down here in just my towel on my way back as I shiver my way towards my room. I nearly trip on the way up the stairs, cursing in my head, reminding myself of just how quiet I have to be. I take the same achingly slow time closing the door as I did before. Once I’m showered and cozy in bed, I hear another door shut outside. Glancing at the old-fashioned clock on the nightstand, it’s almost one in the morning. Maybe Cryus’ room is in this wing of the hotel, too. I drift off shortly after, trying to strategize the many ways to decline an invitation to dance.

- - -

I didn’t want to sound like a spoiled brat, but I really wish I had asked Mateo and Aria to come. I was fine doing my everyday look, but an updo and making my eyeliner even on both sides? It’s making me sweat before I even put on my dress.

Thankfully, I was able to find something that suited me without raising any eyebrows. A floor length, black satin gown with a plunge down the back, but a high neckline in the front. With some diamonds around my neck, it was the perfectly simplistic wedding guest attire. And, hopefully, just enough to blend in so that I wouldn’t have to socialize more than necessary. Though I’d known many of the guests since birth, they still weren’t my crowd. I felt outlandish being surrounded by them, like I was performing a play.

Slipping into my heels, I don the first forced smile of the evening and leave my room.

The smile drops as soon as I see Joel waiting in the hallway.

I expected him to be there. I figured he’d be ready before me and wait until I came out but…wow.

His hair is slicked back, and he had invested in a tuxedo. It fit him like a glove, and only made his shoulders look broader than usual. I step towards him like a magnet, suddenly needing to know if he changed his cologne for the evening, too. When I do so, his jaw clenches, and his eyes drop down to my lips.

“Miss Russell, are you alright?”

“What?” I exhale, “Yes, of course. Are you, are you good to go?” Stuttering? Over him? Maybe I need to ask Nyah to set me up again.

He clears his throat. “You look nice.”

I swear to god if my face heats up anymore I’m turning around and calling this whole thing a wash.

“Thank you. You got a tux.” I realize quickly that it was a fact, not a compliment. “It suits you.”

He glances down at his attire. “Thank you.”

I steady myself, composing my features and repeating I’m just frustrated to myself a few times before descending the stairs. “Let’s get this over with.”

The ceremony was beautiful, even I can’t deny it. I didn’t care for the words being said, or more specifically, who was saying them, but still. The grounds were lovely in the autumn air, and I don’t get to see enough foliage in the city. I spent most of the time admiring the colors and drowning everything else out. By the time we’re in the ballroom, the sun has set once again, highlighting the sparkling chandeliers. As expected, my table is near the back entrance. Thankfully, I didn’t recognize any of the names at my table except for one. I’m assuming that they sat Joel next to me to make this less odd for the additional guests who weren’t at the rehearsal dinner. I look around for Amari, and sure enough, he’s seated directly behind my dad. With a wedding like this, I think most would be accustomed to seeing bodyguards, but maybe Annabelle didn’t want them appearing in photos as such.

An hour or two later I’m full of green salad and prime rib, and have asked about all the questions I can think of to Annabelle’s old college roommate next to me. Then, unfortunately, the dancing begins. For the first few upbeat songs, I can hang back. I don’t think anyone expects—or wants—me to be on the dance floor, even though I swear Joel gives me the side eye. But then, just as Cyrus predicted, the devil himself approaches my table looking like an apologetic child.

“Gwen,” Daniel extends his hand, “Would you do me the honor?” There must be some undertone of sarcasm, but I don’t detect it.

“Are you sure? I think I’m the Guest of Disgrace. Wouldn’t want to ruin your spotless reputation.”

Joel shifts beside me, his gaze focused intensely toward the front of the room as if he’s trying to read something at table number one.

“Gwen,” Daniel sighs, “It’s one dance.”

I can see a few guests toward the edge of the floor glancing our way. It would cause more of a scene if I said no. And this was one event I didn’t need to cause a scene at.

I take Daniel’s hand, and let him guide me to the floor.

He brings me to the middle, much to my dismay. My father is nearby, dancing with one of the bridesmaids. I can see Paul in front of him, speaking intently at the edge of the dance floor with Cyrus. Everyone else is a blur of designer suits and stunning ball gowns.

Daniel places his hand a bit lower than I’d like, but nevertheless, I place my hand on his shoulder and let him spin me in a slow circle. Even with my distaste of slow dancing, the jazz band is a nice touch. I try to find anyone else in the crowd I might recognize to avoid Daniel’s eyes, which I can feel trying to read my expression.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” He asks.

“Immensely.”

He snickers, “I can tell. You’re even more tense than usual.”

I lock eyes with him now. “I’m not tense.”

“Your posture says otherwise.” He glides his fingers up my back, making me regret this dress that I liked so much.

“Your words would have sufficed,” I reach behind, smacking his hand away loud enough for an elderly woman to look at us, eyes wide. “You don’t need to touch me to tell me something.”

Daniel groans under his breath. “Gwenny, don’t you think it’s about time we got along? If you make your way to the entertainment sector, we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

“If you would like us to get along, you could start by refraining from calling me Gwenny. I’ve only told you five thousand times I hate that nickname.”

“I think it’s cute.”

“I didn’t ask what you thought.”

We shuffle back and forth a few more times, taking another turn, before I lose my grip on my tongue. “Additionally, I may be interested in entertainment, but you forget I’m the future CEO. You conveniently forget that fact every time you grab at my backside, every time you call me the wrong name, and every time you ignore my advice,” As inconspicuous as possible, I step on his left foot as we continue to spin, “It’s almost comical, really, that you think continuously insulting Guinevere Russell will have no impact on your future at Russell Corp.”

His breathing picks up, eyes narrowing. “Why can’t you just…behave?”

An exasperated laugh escapes my lips. “Why can’t I behave? I’m not your mirror, Danny. You should ask that question again next time you look into one.”

“This company is just as much mine as it is yours. My father was William’s partner.”

“He was. With a thirty-seventy split. It’s not called Wilson Corporations for a reason.”

His face is red, and he’s stopped dancing. The music still flits about the room, the other guests around us decently unaware of our argument. Or at least pretending to be.

“I don’t expect you to understand what we could build,” Daniel sneers. “After spending so much time traveling to god knows where and sleeping with god knows whom, but we have the opportunity to—”

The ballroom goes black.

All the light from the chandeliers is gone, with only a few candles at the newlywed table yards away. The music cuts off, and several startled guests gasp. A breaker must have blown or something. I take a step back from Daniel, bumping into someone else.

And that’s when a gunshot goes off, and somebody screams.

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Masterlist

[tobiasdrake]

Well, I was supposed to wake up in a field but instead.....

Some sorta void beyond time and space. Neat. It would seem I have gained the ability to determine for myself how far back to loop.

I credit this new ability to my brilliant decision to touch the timedrop. Clearly, I have absorbed its power and added it to my own through temporal osmosis. I have based this observation on nothing whatsoever but I will hear no argument otherwise.

In any case... I still need to find out who keeps breaking that bread so--

Oh my god you read my Pocket Notes and listen in on my conversations and now you're just being controlling I NEED SOME SPACE LEMONFRIEND

>_< I am in a toxic relationship. With time.

A revelation that wasn't the main goal of dipshitting myself into oblivion but is a welcome discovery nonetheless. At least we know that everyone who's frozen is a) somewhat conscious but b) not in a state where they would be suffering.

10/10 Great service, satisfying experience. I look forward to killing myself again in the future.

Alright. Well. Guess we'll get back to it. Grab the tonics from the side room and my ding ding and then--

No. Fuck you.

I was thinking about my ding ding it could not be helped

Ugh, this place is so rude! I want to file a complaint.

Moving right along. Nothing to see here.

Like those two buildings back in Dormont that are inexplicably locked. Must be some kind of regional locking mechanism popular in this area but I have no idea what.

Oh, there we go. That was easy. So we just need to figure out the pass phrase for any of these doors we find.

I see where this is going. It would behoove me to throw myself on that Tear over yonder and die so I can go get the password.

...but I have the utmost confidence that I'll get myself stupidly killed anyway soon, so I don't need to bother.

In a suspicious place, yes. That sure is a pillar.

I do not trust this pillar, okay?

This pillar is watching us.

Plotting.

It knows I'm on to it.

You say that like we should feel bad for it, Isa. Unfortunately, feeling bad for things is a form of Sadness so I'm afraid all of my sympathy's getting chopped up with scissors.

Along with this boss fight.

Alright, cool. Some kind of key thing that can be used to something something with the tears, so let's keep going and--

...okay so maybe it's actually dangerous to hussle the group past all of the deathtraps I already know about. I may be trapfinding so well at this point that it's putting everyone in danger.

Who would do something so monstrous

Okay now I'm super onboard. King needs to die.

Go on, Bonnie. Take a wok on the wild side. *wok-a wok-a*

Am I... am I supposed to scramble it? Wait, is this a metaphor? Does this key have gender dysphoria that it hasn't quite realized yet?

...so that's a yes. Yes, the key has undiagnosed gender dysphoria.

Cool. I'm happy I caught that. I feel proud of myself for my ability to pick up LGBT subtext.

This philosophy is pretty deep. I took the religion of Change for a silly joke at first but no, this is some serious shit.

Is this whole religion a metaphor for the experience of being LGBT? There is clearly some strong coding going on here with Vaugardian society. In fact, the entire concept of worshipping change is itself so tightly connected to gender and the trans/non-binary experience that--

BONNIE

NO

You take that gender out of your mouth this instant! The experience of self-discovery is NOT breakfast!

*sigh* Kids.

[blurbsinsinning]

𝖙𝖜𝖔; 𝖗𝖔𝖑𝖊𝖕𝖑𝖆𝖞

kinktober, day two - robin buckley x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ (mdni!), teasing, finger fucking, top!reader

“Hey, stranger,” You greet, the bass-heavy music underscoring your flirtatious remarks, “you really should know that I have asthma, just in case you intend on taking my breath away often.”

The girl, very clearly nervous, ignores your flirting and asks, “Wait, you’re asthmatic, since when?”

Your heart squeezes and you chuckle softly. “It’s just a pickup line.” You reassure her.

She visibly relaxes. “Oh. Sorry, I'm really nervous.” You were pretending to be strangers. At least, you were supposed to be. You’d asked Robin to do this for you, and to her credit, she was doing her best to play along. “Uh, well, maybe I’ll just have to start carrying around an inhaler.”

Neither of you can hold back your giggles at her attempt at a smooth response. 

“I’m still not asthmatic!” You say, still cackling.

“What else was I supposed to say?” She protests, laughing just as hard.

“I don’t know, stranger. Maybe just flirt back.” You playfully roll your eyes.

The ‘stranger’ collects herself and with a deadpan expression says, “Let’s have sex.”

You snort, “Wow, where’s all the foreplay, pretty girl?” She smiles at the nickname, an adorable blush on her cheeks, amplified by the party lights. 

“I can’t help myself when a gorgeous lady like you is in front of me.” She hesitantly takes a hold of your waist, which you eagerly lean into, settling her nerves. She smiles with her tongue in between her teeth, leaning in to kiss you.  

You kiss her back, taking over with a hand cradling the back of her head, the background noise of the party fading out leaving only the woman’s quiet whimpers against your lips.

Somehow, you stumble your way to a bathroom in the venue, bumping into walls and disgruntled partygoers along the way. You summon all your strength and place Robin on top of the counter, kissing down her neck at a now perfect angle.

In between the kisses you press to her neck, you ask, “You gonna let me take you right here? Hm?”

“Yes,” she breathes out, eyes shut. 

“Anyone could walk in, you know. I bet you’d like that. You just want everyone to see how pretty you are, all breathless like this for me,” You ramble on as your hands come up to the collar of her shirt. 

Robin’s makeshift costume (a red flannel and jeans) made for easy access, the buttons were flimsy and wonderfully easy to tear open. 

“But they don’t get to,” you continue on, “only I do. Only I get to see you like this, isn’t that right?”

She desperately tries to keep her composure, but it’s slipping away from her with every button you tear open. “Who - who says they already haven’t, stranger?” 

You drop the charade. “Nobody, Robin. No one gets this.” You tear open the buttons with even more vigor. 

She nods, pressing up into your touch, her hands grip your shoulders. “Just you, promise.” Robin sighs out as you finally finish unbuttoning her shirt. “Keep going,” she encourages you, as if you’d stop. Not when you have her squirming under you, her body begging for more. For you.

You want to tear off her jeans and make her fall apart right there, in the bathroom on the counter, where probably everyone could hear Robin’s moans. You’ll save that for tonight. For now, you’re content to grab her perfect tits over her bra, groping them as your lips smash together once more.

Your hands make their way down Robin’s body and under her jeans, rubbing her pussy over the cotton of her panties. She rolls her hips against your hands, moans against your lips until she can’t help but let her head fall back. 

“Everybody’s hearing you make me yours,” she moans out, in awe. You grin, biting her lips softly while your skilled fingers dip under her panties, teasing her entrance.

She bucks her hips again, trying to slide your fingers in herself, but failing and whining out in frustration. “So needy,” you chide, your fingers sliding up to rub her clit. Her mouth drops open in a silent scream. “C’mon, stranger. Cum for me.” 

It takes her a little while longer to get there, you slide your middle finger inside her and let your thumb stimulate her clit, but eventually, she’s falling apart. Her cries of pleasure echo throughout the bathroom, the symphony dying down as she finishes riding out her orgasm on your hand. 

She scoots herself back and rests her head against the cool tile and shuts her eyes with a pleased smile on her face.

[cilil]

Since everyone are asking about ships, do you have: popular ship that you are not into, but can see the idea; popular ship you are not into and can't understand why; and a ship popularity of which surprises you (in either positive or negative sense).

Genuinely curious, not trying to start any drama, but naturally feel free to delete if you don't feel like answering. Nice day to you!

Hey anon! Lovely day to you too and thanks for the ask!

(I'm going to preface this by saying these type of asks can be a bit tough to answer for me, since I'm just pretty chill with ships and sometimes can't even tell how popular a thing is while drifting around in my comfortable little bubble, and my answers might not be super juicy, but I wanted to try giving some anyway ^^)

Popular ship that you are not into, but can see the idea

I brainstormed a bit which popular ships came to mind and also went on AO3 to filter for the most written Silm ships. I actually love all the ones that came up (especially Angbang haha), so I suppose I have nothing in that regard.

If I wanted to give a funny answer, I'd say Beren/Lúthien (the author's canonical self-insert would count as fairly popular, yeah?) because yes, I get the idea and there's a lot of romantic stuff going on, but I will never understand giving up fucking hot angels in Valinor for the sake of a human man who came crawling out of the bushes one day (listen, you guys do you, and creeping on people in forests seems to be some sort of Ainurin/Valinorean dating tradition, but I would be calling the police, ok? Don't creep on me in my forest please unless your name is Eönwë). Lúthien, girl, I love you, but this choice is personally offensive to me and my efforts to get my hands on hot angels. Maybe I'm also just too arospec for this, happy pride month.

(I should perhaps add that such opinions are always subject to change, all it takes is one person giving me one idea that gets me thinking and the entire thing could look different tomorrow. These are snapshots of a moment in time, if you will.)

((Also in case it needs to be said, please nobody take my funny answers too seriously.))

Popular ship you are not into and can't understand why

Hmmm, to properly answer that I would probably have to get into my NOTPs and that's a topic I don't want to discuss on this blog.

Please don't feel bad for asking, I appreciate it, but that's just one thing I decided for myself because, while I think nobody should put too much emphasis on my - a random person on the internet that I believe nobody here has met! - opinion, some people do and/or get upset that not everyone likes their ship. And I get it, I don't like people talking crap about my favorite characters and ships to my face either. So yeah, I just don't want anyone to feel uncomfortable :)

Ship popularity of which surprises you (in either positive or negative sense)

Heh. This will be a fun one, but bear with me for a second, alright?😅

I'm going to say Russingon. Now, now, put down the pitchforks. When I read the Silmarillion, I was very new to fandom and shipping in general and was also reading mostly just for an overview of everything and to learn more about Melkor and Mairon, so I didn't think too much of the Russingon interactions. Hopping onto AO3 immediately after, I quickly learned about them being shipped, went "oh yeah, I totally see this" and have been a supporter ever since.

The reason why its popularity surprises me is quite simply that I come from a fandom where people were incredibly weird and hostile regarding any sort of incest, including all variations of pseudo-incest ("sibling-coded", found family, etc.). I essentially went from a fandom that bullied me out of shipping two characters who were neither biologically related nor had grown up together nor even knew each other prior to their meeting as adults simply because they apparently had sibling vibes to a fandom whose top ship are half-cousins.

In case I haven't made it sufficiently clear: It was a very positive surprise. I frankly think very little of fandoms who clutch their pearls over pixels on a screen kissing and police what people can and can't ship, and I feel just so much more comfortable in a fandom where people are more chill and used to it. Thank you, Russingon!

[dabihawksluvr]

Aizawa Is A Bad Teacher

[ NOTE: The questions I screenshot are from another account, I just couldn't find a way to get them all into one post without it being messy. So this is just me answering each one, to give my own perspective. ]

I think it's because Shinsou is a LOT like him, but yeah it's still very shitty for him to do. He should've been the class 1B teacher instead.

This is why I never really liked Aizawa, he reminds me of my abusers way too much and I didn't like how strict/careless he truly is.

I hope that, if he did ever have a kid, it would be the biggest wakeup call of his life. And we do see him treat Eri fairly, but that could be because of her quirk and how she's literally only 4/5 years old. Kinda can't treat a kid the same way he treats his students without being seen as a villain.

From what I've seen, that was supposed to be the case. But Shouta feels like a lesser version of Batman, at least the latter actually cared about his Robins (depends on the canon but majority of Batmans do). With Aizawa, we do not need that same care unless it's with Shinsou.

I think it was even canon that Aizawa just hates All Might for being 'too forgiving' on his enemies. But I've also never seen him favor Endeavor either, I think he just hates people in general.

All Might is a decent teacher, at least he considers everyone's thoughts/feelings and dynamics with one another. Aizawa has not once done that, unless it deals with the troublemakers (Bakugou and Izuku) or that one time when Ochako blamed herself for that one time (though I bet it was just his own trauma and being like 'hey I understand this so let me go fix a mistake I made with myself years ago' kind of thing). The ONLY good point Aizawa has is when he says 'live for the students' to All Might when it was clear the old man had given up on living. But that is ONE point, out of so many others where Aizawa fucked up.

YES. Aizawa is a liar, if he believes these are all a 'logical ruse' then he is really fucked up in the head. I am glad that he made some (very minimal) progress when it was found out that Oboro was Kurogiri, I think the guy just has a ton of trauma he needs to work through and that was the first step. I do think how he is now is better than before, at least now he seems to actually care about his students and he realizes he fucked up badly. Just wish it was before he got his leg and eye taken away, essentially making his quirk trash.

Ugh, having Aizawa as a teacher would be the worst. I did get along with teachers that were like All Might and the rest, but Aizawa would be my 13th reason for finally dropping out. Especially if it was young/teen me? Yeah, he'd be on for 2nd degree murder with my suicidal ass.

THIS. I understand they are training to be heroes, and in this specific circumstance it worked. But ONLY because they were all going to war, which btw Aizawa didn't even stop from happening at all (he did have a heel-face turn during the 1st war which was nice to see as we saw him start to care for his students but it was ONLY thanks to Deku saying losing him would be the worst thing ever). Maybe it's because he held himself to that same standard, so he thinks all future heroes should be the same...but he is damn lucky none of them became a villain, though that was because Deku brought them all together simply by being himself. Aizawa was NOT needed, aside from his quirk he was essentially useless as a person. An maybe he knew that, it wasn't until Deku that he saw some value in living on (which is why he cut off his leg - normally he wouldn't have done that).

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

tl;dr - Aizawa is a bad teacher. He is too strict with his teachings, makes assumptions that he rarely ever changes, outright LIES to his own students, puts his students in danger all the time, and cares more about a student from 1B (Shinsou) more than teaching his own class. But, we have to keep in mind that the man was traumatized by losing his friend Oboro (and then Midnight...and now possibly Mic) so he probably feels like his life isn't even worth it. And it wasn't him that wanted to be a teacher, it was actually Oboro. So he only took the job to fulfill his (dead) friend's dream, and it makes it clear why Aizawa is such a bad teacher. He didn't even want this, but feels obligated to regardless of what he truly wants. And yes, he did finally realize he cares for his students...but only when he finally lost the ability to use his quirk, meaning he has to rely on others now instead of just himself.

[deviant-sent-by-cyberlife]

Blooming feelings

AO3 / Commissions / Links /

Summary: Connor starts to question his program and himself, seeing life in a new, different way. Maybe emotions aren’t unnecessary nuances, bothering numbers you need to lock away, but blooming flowers, worth living for.

content: pov Connor, anxiety, emotional hurt/comfort, fear of being replaced/left behind, overthinking

a/n: it was 100% self-indulgent, I’ve had really stressful weeks in the last 3 weeks and other additional dreadful ones will come. In a last attempt to help myself getting thru it all I’ve been bottling and locking up emotions, trying to bury them so I can focus on the task that needs to be done. What a genius move I know

It’s my first fic in this fandom hope you guys will like it ~

You are not supposed to and can’t feel ,

You are a machine Connor,

Not a living thing,

Software instability ^

RK800 heard Amanda’s harsh voice in his head,

A voice calculated, cold and emotionless,

“Connor?

What got to ya?

Told ya not to lick that blood.”

Warm, brown eyes opened to see,

Him and Hank still standing in the lift,

“Did your battery die or what?”

“Sorry Lieutenant, no,

I was sending the report.”

The two of them were leaving a scene,

Where they saw,

The 3rd deviant case in the week.

Connor’s been… experiencing a mild unease,

That he couldn’t place,

Nor he could find,

Any malfunctions in his program.

He ran tests after tests,

But to no avail,

There was no problem in his system anywhere,

Even now,

As he was staring at Hank,

He had the urge to lie to him instead.

I wasn’t sending any report,

Not even writing,

Just heard Her voice and …

Had the impression of concern,

Even something that humans call dread,

But why I had the impulse to hide,

Keep it a secret,

And lock it inside?

But Amanda’s tone rang again,

Voicing his concerns in his head,

But you know that don’t you Connor?

It would mean you are a deviant,

And failed your mission.

Therefore who would need you anyway?

An android,

Which was created to hunt,

Became the hunted rabbit in the dark,

Even Hank,

That drunk police,

Would turn away,

And laugh in your face.

You always accomplish your missions, eh?

Software instability ^

“Jesus Connor stop staring at me!”

The grunt of the grumpy man,

Pulled Connor out of his head,

The door of the lift just opened with a ping,

Letting a little bit of fresh air in,

“Sorry Lieutenant,

I was running some checks in my software—“

“Ugh, forget it.

I need a fucking drink.”

Days went by and that unease didn’t cease,

If anything it increased,

He was waiting in Hank’s car,

While the man stopped at his favourite burger place.

More and more deviant cases happend,

And he was a silent witness to it all,

With every new case,

A new weight appeared in his synthetic cage.

He started to … see these deviants in a new light,

Somehow sympathy crept into his heart,

Sympathy?

But I.. yes,

I’m sure that is the feeling,

What humans call sympathy—

Feeling .

To feel something —

“Alright, now we gotta go back to that shithole.”

He jumped as Hank climbed into the car,

Didn’t realise how long he’s been thinking,

While Hank’s “interesting” music choice screamed inside,

He took an other trip into his mind,

‘ Eyes are the window to the soul’,

He heard once a long time ago,

‘I’m an android. I don’t have soul’,

How easily I answered,

Whiteout a blink and a second thought,

At that time,

That possibility wasn’t unlocked before my eyes,

Feelings,

Amusing little butterflies,

Whose fills up chests,

And helps to bloom,

The pretty flowers of souls.

But now..

“Do I have a soul?”

“What?

What the fuck ya talking about,

Where did that come from? “

Unintentional whisper left the men made lips,

Spreading panic through artificial skin.

He froze,

His system showing error codes,

He just stared ahead,

Onto the dark rode,

Not daring to move.

I.. I failed my mission

Software instability ^

Now Hank knows,

He must realise that I’m …

I’m a deviant now.

He will report,

And sent me back,

Where they destroy and replace Me with Something else.

“.. Fuck knows,

I’ve been seeing all these cases for weeks now,

Seeing at first hand what these deviants do,

Learning their motives and stuffs….

They don’t look that different from me,

Or the other folks I know and see.”

From under a shocked silence,

Connor just stared,

Not registering what Hank just said,

“You know,

At first I saw you as a tin can,

Like an additional machine to a computer,

But then, khm,

All I’m sayin’ is,

That you are more .”

“… you mean, Lieutenant..?”

“Oh Jesus Connor, ughhh.

Maybe you do,

Maybe you don’t,

All I know is that,

We are quite similar at this point.”

“So.. you aren’t replacing me?

“What the fuck would I do that?

We are partners, aren’t we?”

He felt something in the air,

Something inevitable and comfortable.

But with comfort,

Came uncertainty, overstimulation and burden,

However there was something.. freeing there,

The looming weight of being replaced,

Had lifted and gave place,

To a chaos so colourful yet deep,

He felt his fans heating.

It f-feels … scary.

But strangely lifting too.

So this is what ‘waking up’ entail,

Liberating on one side,

And anxiety filled on the other.

They are not the never ending attacks of mosquitoes,

But the kiss of bees,

Worth living for.

Feelings filled his chest,

But for the first time in his life,

He didn’t try,

To shoo them away and stay in the dark.

Software instability ^

B̩͎͍̾ͅr̴̨̦͕̝ẹ̿͋̒̕ā̤̓̍͘ḳ̯͍̑ͦ F̘͍͖ͫ͘r̴̨̦͕̝ẹ̿͋̒̕ẹ̿͋̒̕

An impenetrable wall broke,

Slowly collapsing,

And leaving painful cuts,

Then,

When the last piece fell,

Darkness befell.

There was no Amanda nor update checks,

Only silence and Himself.

However in the dark,

He saw a blue flower blooming hard,

As he stepped closer and tried to touch,

It omitted pollen,

And embraced him in warmth.

As he looked down,

He realised,

There are many little blossoms under his shoes,

Waiting to bloom.

“Ya comin?”

Hank’s waxy voice slipped through the haze,

Comforting him once again.

We are partners in this case,

And friends in some way,

He really is waiting for me to step forward,

And spend days in union.

“Yes, Lieutenant,

I’m coming.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’m a sucker for symbolism and metaphors :’D

Ps. English is not my first language, but I tried to somehow get the feeling of Hank’s accent in writing.

My writing requests are open ~

[fire-lizard-ro]

Bottom Dragon Dan Heng

Bet you didn't expect THIS, huh?

I feel like there's barely been HSR smut recently, so I did it myself. >:D))

CW: DP (technically in two holes- you'll see-), top reader, bottom character, non-human anatomy (for my dear Dan Heng), knots (Dan Heng's), fucking a hole you probably didn't expect me to say you're fucking, belly bulge and a tiiiiiny bit of cumflation~ <333 (like it's only a little bit of a bulge left over), mention of crying, hair/horn pulling, usage of the word "slut" exactly once, only a tiny mention of dirty talk (I'm now realizing I don't really do dialogue in these...)

GN reader.

Cock is interchangabe with strap and I mentioned that... And I say cum for the reader, but also mention that it can be fake cum for a strap.

You know I REALLY tried holding off so I could finish making myself write down all my Aeon stuff, but dragon Dan Heng is still very much so stuck in my mind.

So whoopsie here's yet another ramble session from Roro about nefarious things I think about this scaly bitch (affectionate).

So uh- This is written as x reader(s) because ye, but when I was having whore-knee thoughts it was more like I thought it up in a daydream of me somehow scoring Dan Heng, Blade, and Jing Yuan and watching those three have at it. hA-

A n y w a y s -

One of the only times I write top reader(s), lmfao. Since I prefer bottom reader content, but top reader is also smeggsy sometimes.

NSFW:

Okay so for this, you're gonna have to be two people sometimes, I guess foijeo- Maybe you and your bestie like sharing or something.

But like.... bottom dragon Dan Heng who gets fucked in the ass and has a cock/strap in his internal cock sheath thing. I mean- It is a slit... That just so happens to have two cocks in it... Just slide on in and make it three. This could also be only you fucking him this way while shoving a dildo/plug in his ass. But something about the idea of watching him get stretched out on two cocks that had been fucking him is hot.

Watch the way his belly bulges out from your thick cock and listen to how he sobs from the stretch he feels in both of his holes. Dan Heng would likely never admit it, but he loves it when you fuck his sheath- When you put yourself in the hole he had never considered before. It's already slick on the inside naturally to keep his cocks from chafing. And it's so tight from there being two cocks in there.

He was hesitant when you first brought it up, not having thought about it before and worrying that it would hurt or just not work out- After all, this was not a hole that was supposed to be fucked. But he was ultimately curious, as it is in his nature. At least I think. After all, he does manage the archives and seems to know a lot about various subjects.

But once he tries it? Fuck there's no going back from there. He was used to you shoving your tongue in there or even gliding fingers through the slick of his internal sheath and feeling around his cocks while they were inside... But this was a whole different ball game. His tail would be thumping against the bed while you gently finger the slit of his sheath's opening. One, two... then three and even four fingers. Just in case. You don't wanna hurt your pretty boy, after all. :((

Then you slick up the shaft of your dick/strap and ever-so-gently press the head inside along his two cocks that had popped out while you were fingering him. There's a gasp as he feels it stretch him out inside and he's panting while trying to get used to the new feeling.

But once he's adjusted and you've picked up the pace? He's letting out the prettiest choked out moans while you fold his legs up to his chest and fuck him hard, your hips slapping against his ass with every forward stroke. And he's likely whimper if you lean forward to mouth at those cute nipples of his. They look so lonely and nibble-able, you know? :((

(I am of the belief that EVERYONE deserves to have their nipples sucked. <333)

The way his tail twitches and spasms and even thrashes around from not being able to control it while he's getting fucked like a good, perfect slut- And then the way it wraps around your waist like he's trying to ground himself- Or maybe he's pulling you closer? Trying to get you deeper? God- Please tug on his tail, too. I'm not sure how well fucking his sheath from behind would work because of possible positioning of said sheath, but if you do? Please yank this man's tail to pull him back into your thrusts while you pin him down with a hand on the back of his head to shove him into the pillows. Better yet- Grip his hair, too, while you're at it. Or his horns/one of his horns. Use his horns to pull him into your hips as you make heavy thrusts into him.

And oh lord- When he cums? His knots and cocks swell which makes everything tighter and he's crying and writhing beneath you while calling out your name and pushing at your stomach because it's just too much- There's cum all over your belly and his and he looks so fucked out and his legs are shaking and his hips are jumping in little aborted thrusts to grind your cock inside him just a little more while he rides out his orgasm.

For my cock havers and my strap users (specifically those straps that you can use a pump with to pump stuff into your partner-):

I hope you can see my vision when I say he looks so pretty with cum squirting out of not only his dicks, but out of his shealth. The way his belly has a little bulge left over from how much you fucked into him- The way it squelches out from his slit, between his flagging cocks as they retreat into his internal pouch and more cum gushes out- And how he whimpers and whines and tears leak from his pretty eyes and he squirms while you push on his belly to force the cum out of his stuffed sheath.

It's just so pretty. :((

He's just so pretty. :((

Once again: I prefer top character and bottom reader stuff, but... Sometimes.... Ahaha- (If I were in that JingRenHeng poly relationship that I mentioned I was thinking of when I imagined this up, I'd love to watch those two do this to him... [screams])

I might have missed something/a few things because my mind was going wayyyyy faster than I can type (though I can type pretty fast...). So if I did and I remember later, I will put in an edit and post something to let people know it was added to.

I shall now go fucking die myself because who knew I'd be writing this and putting it where people can see it ahahahahfiosejg-

OH OH OH P.S. PLEASE TALK DIRTY TO HIM AND NIBBLE THOSE CUTE EARS OF HIS HE'LL GET SO RED THIS IS CANON TO ME.

[waterfallofspace]

(if two requests is asking too much pls ignore, sorry 😭)

d/azai: 9, 52, 56, 64 (with c/huuya— maybe dark era?)

Not too much at all, thank you for another one!! I love answering these, S/oukoku are my absolute beloveds, it's never too much D/azai hehehe~~ 

Set in 'dark era' mildly, imagine them both as adults, probably around 19, before all the things go down, back when they're both working for the P/ort M/afia. 

2.1k, prompts 9, 52, 56, and 64, story under cut!

9. “You’re trembling.” 52. “Did you just sneeze?” 56. “Can you please come and get me?” 64. Mission in the rain.

(References to violence, injury, swearing, mildly high fever, and gunshots, just in case anyone doesn't like those!)

~~~~~~~

Dazai’s predictions are as reliable as the air you breathe. Sometimes the details can get fuzzy, but at the end of it all, his results are unavoidable. This is a hassle for his enemies, making him one of the most dangerous adversaries. And frankly quite annoying. However, on some days, when his predictions come to pass in ways he was hoping to avoid, they can be just as annoying for him. 

Thoughts swirl around Dazai’s head, his dripping hair clinging to his flushed forehead. ‘I foresaw the rain, but I had hoped I wouldn’t be as feverish when it came. I guess even I can’t predict exactly how an illness will progress. Though I do wish I’d known it was going to make the pain so much worse.’ 

His hand drifts back to his leg, water mixing with the blood seeping through the makeshift bandage he’d fashioned from a scarf one of the enemies had been wearing. ‘For someone covered in bandages, I actually don’t normally carry them on me. I should change that.’ Pulling the scarf tighter, pain seems to shoot through every nerve. 

“eNDxt-! hh’dZGt-!”

Dazai’s teeth clench, a faint groan crawling out from between them. The stifles send waves of burning shivers running from his head down through his arms to his fingertips. ‘I can’t get myself home like this. I’m not sure I could stand even if I wanted to… better call in backup. But who to call… someone who can see me like this…’

He lets his hands twitch, another sneeze being stalled on his breath as he reaches for his phone. The voice picks up instantly, Dazai smirking as the snarl the other man is wearing forms in his mind. 

“The fuck do you want?” 

“Chuuuuya~, can you pl- knDXt-! please come and get me?”

“Wh- what!?”

“I need y- inGZd’eh-! you to come pick me up.”

There’s a deep sigh through the phone, and what sounds like gunfire as Chuuya barks out an order. Dazai figures it’s still the mission Mori sent him on a few days ago. ‘Taking a while, usually he’d have wrapped it up by now. Must have been complications. I was supposed to go with, except a more urgent matter needed my attention.’ 

“Are you fucking serious?”

“kNT-nGT’eh-dnZNTT-! Yes, I’m serious. Hurry please~ it’s quite urgent.”

“What was that noise?”

“It’ll explain wh- eNDxT-! when you get here.”

Another round of yelling overtakes Chuuya’s side of the conversation, Dazai leaning the phone away with a wince as the noises seem to drill right into his skull. Finally it quiets down, Chuuya’s voice cutting through the silence again with a growl. 

“Can’t you call someone else? I dunno, Oda or something, why’s it gotta be me? I’m a tad busy.” 

“I’m- inGTD’eh-! trusting you with this- hH’knT-! mission. You are my partner after all.” 

“Ach. Fine, you bastard. But you’d better not be dead by the time I get there. Don’t wanna waste a trip.”

“hNgEdT-INgT-eh’kNd’eh-! See you when you get here.” 

The dial tone cuts through his last sentence, a sigh forming from the effort the call required. He lets his eyes fall shut,his head meeting the cold wall he’s leaning against. It almost seems to burn against his skin. ‘Because of the fever, I assume. Making the cold feel almost like electricity coursing through my body. Chuuya had better hurry.’ 

“You’re trembling.” 

Dazai’s eyes snap open, consciousness flooding back into his mind, a rush of pain following suit. He crushes his nose into a fist to starve off the reignited tickle while the other hand gingerly grazes his wounded leg. He manages to catalogue the rain still drenching him, Chuuya standing over him crossing his arms, and some amount of time he can no longer account for. 

“That h- happens when you’re l- left in the r- rain for- ndGT-! eh’kNXt-! d- days to fr- freeze to d- death.”

“Oh quit your whining, it’s been less than an hour. That’s impressive given I was across town.”

As Dazai feels Chuuya cold gaze, another shudder runs down his back, a smirk creeping across his face as it prompts a response laced with barely hidden guilt. 

“I got here as fast as I could, okay…?” 

‘You’re lucky it’s just us here, Chuuya. Anyone else might mistake your tone for caring~.’  The itch presents itself again, Dazai raising a hand to his face with a gasp as it climbs deeper into his sinuses. A burning starts to spread along his nose, Chuuya’s smirk only fanning his irritation. 

“ah’hNDeh-! knt’shh-! inGT’shh-!”

“Did you just sneeze?” 

“I- knGt’shh-! I certainly hope that was a sneeze and not- knGT’sshew-! my soul trying to- hh’nGT-! Escape.”

“I didn’t know you could make such dainty noises.”

The smile Dazai shoots in return is heavy, a deep air of false self-satisfaction plastered across the gesture. They both know Chuuya can see through him easily, and they both know he won’t act on this knowledge. ‘We’re both more comfortable with pretending I’m in control, like always. Despite what you may say, Chuuya, I know you better than anyone.’

“So, what exactly led to this pathetic display?” 

“Negotiations got a- ahH’INDGT’chh-! a bit out of hand. 

A blush tints Dazai’s cheeks as the stifle nearly breaks through, a violent sniffle falling through the cracks of his self-control. He flinches as the expression falters on Chuuya’s face, his blush apparently deeply visible against the rest of his utterly pale face.

“Eh?! A bit ou- you’re sitting on the ground bleeding, this is ‘a bit’?” 

“gnDT’shh-! ih’tND’eh-! It all went according to prediction.”

‘Except the severity of the fever… but he doesn’t need to know that.’ 

“You knew you were going to end up shot and laying on the ground?”

“I b- hh’enDT-! Believe I am sitting.” 

Chuuya snarls at him, fist clenching at his side as he seemingly resists the urge to throw a punch. ‘Probably a good thing for me. Not sure I could roll out of the way in time. Even if I did, it’d hurt something awful, and I’m not exactly keen on more pain at the moment.’ Dazai allows, electing to offer a small grin at the action.

“Did you at least get what you were sent for?”

“Do you really doubt me, Chuuya? hNNcH! heHh… nnDGT-! eNX’guh-!”

“Christ, Dazai.”

“eNGT’eh-! haHh… heP’ch-mmgNn’sh-hep’DNGT-! F- fuck… gNT’shh-!”

Dazai pretends he doesn’t notice the wince Chuuya lets out at the cursing as the stifles scrape through his throat. He’s switching from crushing his nose into his fist to fully pinching it shut. ‘They’re getting stronger, I can’t keep this up for long.’

“Mori sent you out here this sick?”

“I didn- hHnGT’eh-! eINXT-! Didn’t see the relevance in passing on su- such… hehhAH-! kNDT’chh-! eINGT’shh-! Such irrelevant information.”

“Irreleva- Damn it you idiot. You seriously didn’t tell him?!”

“nGT-! dnZT’chh-!”

“Well, guess it doesn’t matter now anyways. Can you walk?”

“N- hH’eNG’shh-! Not sure.”

Chuuya reaches down, stumbling a bit as Dazai leans into him, a hiss escaping as pain shoots through his leg. ‘I’m assuming the sickness is clouding my ability to ignore the pain, making it feel worse than it is. Normally an injury like this shouldn’t bother me.’ Another shiver runs through Dazai’s body, travelling through his arms into Chuuya, who turns a sharp eye to him. 

“If I could use gravity manipulation this would be a hell of a lot easier.”

“W- well sorry. N- not exactly m- my fault that I’m s- so special. hh’knChh-!” 

Dazai whips into his fist, aiming away from the man holding him up as another stifled fit pounds through his head. 

“dnCH-! inNGXT-! nnGT-! eh’INGt’shh-!”

“Ar-”

“inDksss-! eNGT-! heh…! hH’aENXT’chh-! ih’nnGXT’shh-!”

“Christ, Dazai. You’re gonna give me a headache. Just fucking sneeze.”

“Wh- inGt-! What is Chuuya talk- notagain… hH’enDG’eh-! nNGT-! kNXT’chh-! Talking about? I believe I am sne- sneehh…. hH’EDN’chh-! sneezing?”

Dazai meets Chuuya’s eyes just in time to catch the mist of concern that settles over them before they roll in his direction. They’ve stopped moving, much to Dazai’s dismay. Normally the rain hitting his head seeming to feel like gunfire would be the reason he’s annoyed, but right now he has bigger issues. His hair is soaked, and dripping onto his face, each droplet running down his nose leaving a trail of tickles in its wake.

“You know what I mean, you jackass. Just let them out.”

He crushes his nose into his fist again as another sneeze threatens to break through, determined not to follow Chuuya’s orders. ‘I don’t need to sneeze. I do- heh… don’t nee… need to…’ Chuuya’s voice cuts through his attempts, the vibrations in the air seeming to spread the itch even deeper.

“It can’t be any worse than the tiny squeaks you’re letting out now.” 

“Ch- chuhHAh-! Chuuya might have a point for once!��� 

“Bastard.”

“heH-! keeshh-tisshh’ieschh’oo-!”

“Was… was that your sneeze…?”

“ieeshh’oo-! heh’tshhh’shoo-! inEShh’oo-!”

“You’re sounding practically feline, Dazai.”

A grin spreads across Chuuya’s face as Dazai leans into his hands with another tiny outburst. Managing to pry open his eyes long enough to make it out through the haze, Dazai offers a weak smile immersed in mischief.

“Seeing as you’re quite the fan of ‘felines’, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Eh?! Y- you-”

“In fact- tShh’oo-! heh’inshh’iew-! I believe you referred to a kitten as ‘cute’, didn’t y- hh’teEShhiew-! You?”

“Don’t you fuckin-”

“Awww~ Does that mean Chuuya j- eh’KNshh’oo-! hahh-! geshhiew-hepp’tishhiew-! Just called me adorable?” 

“I will drop you on your ass, you bandage waste.”

Chuuya’s glare is fierce, a scowl painted over his face, but Dazai can’t help but notice the way his grip tightens when another fit breaks out, keeping Dazai studied as he shakes. ‘Whatever you say, Chuuya~.’ 

“hH’knGT’shiew-! eh’iiashh’oo-! kenshhh’iew-! heh’gshh’deh-! hNG’deh-! d’eshh’oo-!”

“B- bless you…”

“What was that, Chuuuya~?”

“Bastard.”

“Ouch! Words sting you know. eh’kishhew-!”

“Fuck off.”

“What a dirty mouth you have!” 

Another glare is thrown his way, Dazai responding with a smile, the unsettling kind that he knows Chuuya hates. Sure enough, he feels a shudder run down the smaller man’s back. Unfortunately he doesn’t get to revel in this feeling as the earth starts to spin under his feet. Feeling the panic start to rise in his chest, Dazai’s feet slow as he attempts to let the feeling of water on his face keep his mind from shutting down.

“Chuuy-”

“Just shut up. We’re almo- hey!” 

Legs giving out from under him, Dazai lets out a mild gasp, the force sending both men to the ground. Chuuya manages to recover fast, turning the fall into a roll, but Dazai doesn’t fare as well, pain shooting through his leg as the wound meets the concrete. His eyes snap shut, a wince haunting his features.

“What the fuck do you think you’re- Oh shit, Dazai… just breathe okay? We’re almost there.”

“hh’kieshh’oo-!”

“Bless you.”

Dazai wants to respond, but his voice gets lost somewhere in his throat. Everything feels a bit too far away, the fog starting to spread through his vision distorting reality. He feels the panic rise once more in his chest, eyes frantically scanning for- ‘Chuuya. Just focus on Chuuya.’

His hand reaches up, gripping Chuuya’s arm. Normally such a gesture would earn him a kick to the chest, but instead Chuuya gently picks it up, bringing it to his chest. Dazai’s eyes flutter shut again, focusing his brain on Chuuya’s heartbeat.

“eh’hePShh’iew-! tieeshh’oo-!”

“Bless you, Dazai.” 

“Th- thank you…”

Dazai notices the way the heartbeat increases when he manages to get a word out. Chuuya lifts an arm, gently brushing the soaked hair from Dazai’s face, offering a silent invitation. It’s quickly accepted, Dazai letting his head fall onto Chuuya’s chest.

“Can you keep going..? Sitting in the rain isn’t gonna be helping your-”

“hNNshh’iew-! hep’pishhew-!”  

“That.” 

“I don’t know, Chuuya might have to carry me~.”

“Bastard. Get up.”

Chuuya rolls his eyes again with a huff, but Dazai doesn’t miss the relief in his voice. Using gravity manipulation Chuuya’s able to quickly jump to his feet, Dazai slowly following suit with a similar motion. He wavers for a second, Chuuya’s arm finding its way back around him as they cross the final stretch to the car. 

“hh’nGT-! dNTX’chh-!”

“Knock it off.”

“heH’iieeshh’oo-! yishheww-!”

“Better.”  

As soon as he climbs out of the rain, Dazai feels a wave of relief wash over him, the pounding in his head slowing to a dull thud. Chuuya climbs into the driver's seat, growling something about ‘getting my car soaked’ as Dazai lets the cool window relieve some of the heat from his cheeks.

“You gotta write up the report on this for Mori, I’m not doing it just because I saved your pathetic ass.”

“Aw Chuuya~ how sweet of you to offer to do it for me!”

“Wh- I literally just sai-”

Dazai lets his eyes flutter shut once more as Chuuya’s yelling fades into the background. You wouldn’t think it’s an easy sound to fall asleep to, but for Dazai? There’s almost nothing more soothing than the reminder that Chuuya’s there.

Because no matter what, if Chuuya’s there, he’s safe.

[toodleloos]

“do I look different?”

————————- ꧁✩✬✩✬꧂ -————————

A question ive heard from almost everyone ive known. Including myself. They look in a mirror, dreading the way they look. The way they sound. The way they act.

But how could a kid possibly hate how they look?

“I’m too skinny. im too fat. I wish I was brunette. Or maybe blond. I wish I had curls like her, I wish my hair was straighter than a ruler.”

“If I throw myself on a field, waving my abs around. Am I macho? Or cool? Call a gay kid a slur? Maybe it’ll hide my obvious interest in men.”

Highschoolers are fake. The hallways? Filled with drama, and chaos. The moment I turned 13 I knew my life was over. I had to care about being cool, or liking this or liking that or liking her. Sometimes my head hurts because he’s so handsome, and she’s so gorgeous.

“Just don’t be gay. That’s weird.”

I’m weird.

Change your hair. Fix your attitude. Why do you dress like that? Your stupid. Your fat. No, you’re skinny. Oh fuck, now you’re fat and stupid!

But.

Have you eaten lately?

“You look different now.”

“You’re different.”

I know im different. You remind me. They remind me.

I look around at my classmates. Blonde, brunette, black, white, tan. Girls, boys, trans guys and girls.

Why the fuck does it matter if she screwed that guy? Or if he lost his virginity. Why does it matter if that girl wants to be a guy? Or that guy wants to be a girl?

There is so much hate.

We’re only kids. we can’t be kids forever. Don’t you listen to your parents? Enjoy your youth. Don’t cause drama. You say you listen, yet there are still huge numbers in suicide cases for teenagers. And what are the teachers doing? The parents? Adults that are supposed to protect us from this.

Keep us safe.

“I can’t stop crying. I’m so hungry but mom says I’ll be skinny soon.”

Why is it that we revolve everything around weight? Let me give you an example. A mother has twins. They’re healthy. One just.. puts on a little more weight. Instead of helping, do you know what her mother says?

“You’re so fat.”

And it starts. The disorder. Yes, she loses weight. Becomes “popular” with the girls and the jocks and she’s finally happy?

Throwing up your food makes you happy?

You can have so much sex. Drink so much booze. Smoke a shit ton of weed. But let’s face the facts.

we’re just kids and the world is laughing at us.

Don’t you remember? Climbing up on daddy’s lap, laughing, unaware of the cruel ass world. But— even then. We were so mean.

“I know my dad, do you?”

“My mom said your dad cheated on your mom and left. Hah! So funny!”

“My mom and dad said they loved eachother, so why do they fight?”

“My dad hit me last night. He said it was an accident. He smelled funny.”

“My mom looks at me weird after dad left.”

“I don’t see my parents much.”

I don’t think they notice, they shape our lives. They just like to criticize and criticize. And when we break. They yell at us and break us down. Like we’re the ones in the wrong.

“Depression isn’t real.”

“Teenagers are so exhausting.”

“So dramatic.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

To them, we are nothing if we complain. If we feel pain, or cry, or hurt. We’re dramatic because we never went through their struggle. Oh no. It’s not like we’re a whole new generation. No! We’re just dumb kids.

I don’t blame them. Their parents weren’t exactly uh.. stable. So they grow around this hate, pass that hate to us. And they wonder why we hate coming home. Why we HATE hearing,

“oh your just like your dad! You look so much like your mom!”

I spend hours. Changing myself. Taking nice pictures.

hey. I think I like this guy.

I should totally go for it, right?

They date. Everything was bliss. Then a random text.

“Hey, can you send?”

What? Send what?

“Nudes. Duh.”

I’ve never done that. she says.

“Don’t be a fucking baby.”

I’m with family.

“Just go in your bathroom.”

she did it of course. We all want validation. We crave it. Even if it will kill us. I don’t get the appeal.

I don’t get the appeal of being an asshole. Forcing yourself onto people, forcing them to vape or send weird pictures or.. kill themselves. Just don’t be a dick!

Be a kid.

I’m tired of the voices screaming at me, saying I suck. I’m an idiot.

I know!

They call me names, I go home and.. the feeling swallows me up. It’s the same thing over and over again. The same cycle. I’m tired of it! I want to be different! I want to look different.

why can’t I be DIFFERENT?!

I feel panic swallow me whole. The only thing I can hear is my ac wind blowing. Everything else is gone. And im.. okay.

Moral of the story? Be kind.

Oh! One last thing. I just need an opinion.

“Do I look different?”

————————- ꧁✩✬✩✬꧂ -————————

[sockori]

shmupdate 🧦

very long, hastily written, but a look is appreciated

greetings- to those who are somehow still lingering around this account or came up upon it during my desolate time off. it is sock. or sockori.... or raven... my name is actually raven (they/it, 20 yo disabled autistic goth nerd whatever the fuck). howdy

im still on the 'undetermined hiatus' so to speak that i described in my leaving post, but i will say right now that i have no near future plans on returning. in the tags on my newest art, i mentioned my naruto hyperfixation (of like. 6 years i think) finally died out and other interests have long since captured my autism full force. for me personally, when i lose a special interest like this so drastically, i just full on abandon it for as long as it stands. however, this isn't the only thing that made me leave, and i think its time for me to be completely honest & get some weight off my chest.

i made this account around the cusp of turning 14, during a god awful pubescent era where i acted as any other edgy teen does and i'd much rather like to forget these days. what im saying is i was not in the right mindset at all when i exposed myself that much & got the attention that i did. a dismayingly giant coping mechanism i had in my youth was being online 24/7 because i had no one in reality to lean on let alone feel comfortable talking to about anything that was happening at that time. this of course leads to what the kids call these days being 'chronically online'- desperate for some sort of assurance or interaction, i crawled into internet spaces i shouldn't have been for an also incredibly unsupervised child using the dangerous worldwide web.

yes, naruto was apart of this, as well as other interests i had at the time. throughout my journey i met unsavory people, suffered abhorrent things like stalking & gr---ming, saw things i didn't deserve to see, did a bunch of stupid shit an angsty teen does, i believe you understand the rest. i am in no way proud or gleeful about any of these years and have some very sour memories tied to fandom as a whole, not just naruto, and i really don't like reflecting on them. so, unfortunately, this account sorta became a bitter reminder of what i went through as i grew up & finally matured and sought to recover. that's the first part of why my activity fizzled away & i began backing off from internet use entirely.

the second part is sasori. yes, the puppet man. sorta the sole reason i made sockori in the first place. as the sasori enjoyers following / who followed know, this puppeteer has an incredibly unhealthy philosophy and worldview (if the carefully preserved corpses turned puppets and complete lack of humanity didn't give that away), and is safe to say entirely detached from his reality to a nhilistic and suicidal extent. when you autistically fixate on a character like how i did, sometimes this character's rhetoric can seep into your own without you even realizing; Especially when you're a spot where you are incredibly vulnerable and psychologically unstable, as i was in my youth. now i didn't go around believing you should uhhh murder people and preserve them Obviously- actually i began to believe that perhaps there was some peace in obtaining a robotic existence. maybe emotions were useless, perhaps nothing truly mattered, my life didn't matter, art in eternal in the sense that death is scary and i should avoid it at all costs, why make connections with people when they just die or leave, cant trust people at all to help me, xyz. anything in these lines. without going too uncomfortably deep for everyone's sake and mine, it fucked me up severely. i suppose in a way it relates to how he uses poison. his toxins got right into my nervous system, but the pain i felt from those toxins was the only thing i could really rely on at the time, so i just let it happen. such is the depressing case of coping in the worst spot of your life.

cant help but feel incredibly strange telling the tale, as it sounds so obscure doesn't it, but media can truly get inside your psyche like this if a consumer isn't careful. not sure if anyone else out there fell into a similar headspace dealing with interests in this nature- but regardless. what i mean to say is, sasori is now a kind of content i cant consume anymore. i am in a way better place now, have grown wise and balanced with careful recovery and patience, and of course have grown out of whatever teenage nonsense i was on. sasori, who was once the only thing my autistic traumatized ass could lean on, is now an extremely dark shadow on my life. yes i see this homicidal anime puppet dude from a fantasy ninja anime and get psychological distress. he's somewhat of an aggressor or abuser to me now, which is tragic. ive been actively avoiding everything even vaguely relating to him, be it the art of puppetry, anime clips, robotic/sci-fi genre, whatnot cause i just. man. i dont wanna go back there. shouldn't have to explain why at this point. ptsd at its finest

feel like ive been honest enough. sasori enjoyers out there who were just around to enjoy what i made, anyone i happened to be good friends with during my time on this account, this doesn't have anything to do with you guys. i appreciate everyone dearly for supporting me and cheering me on in whatever i made despite all the hell & anguish that was taking place beyond the keyboard. im just glad that i managed to find some way out and get the help i need before i gave up & took my own life, which depressingly i almost did a handful of times. carrying the horrors is an exhausting burden to bare sometimes, but that does not mean i can't look back on the good parts of the era too. and seeing you all happy and sharing my memes or whatever made me ecstatic and at least a little bit hopeful for the future. fortunately that little spark of hope grew into something more. thanks for being a light in a very, very dark room.

that being said, i leave you all with this: i am not dead, just greatly changed, a new person at last freed from apathy & exhaustion, with now enough room to finally grow. the memories will never truly fade & my disabilities will be a part of me until i pass on, but at least now i can manage them a lot better than ever before, surrounded by way better people who love me for who i am. i will hang on the best i can. i wish for you to do the same. find freedom and happiness wherever you are. take care. happy trails

trans rights. i eat fascist souls. free palestine