#meanwhile in Crane’s apartment

[greenglowinspooks]

(DCxDP) The obligations of a rogue versus those of a parent (Pt. 3)

—

Tw: Vivisection mention, torture mention (GiW agent receiving), me not actually knowing how telegram works

Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually.

(Pt. 1 here) (Pt. 2 here) - (Pt. 4 here)

(Masterlist/subscription post)

—

It’s an average, ordinary afternoon in Gotham, and Jason is in hell.

Specifically, Jason is in hell because he’s been researching the GiW for the last week or so, ever since a cryptic message from Scarecrow of all people.

He still hasn’t gotten anything substantial out of it that Scarecrow hadn’t already provided. Most location data had been previously scrubbed from the database, weaponry details were apparently all stored physically, and the experiment logs seemed to be only accessible from within one of the bases, whose locations Jason did not have.

Apparently Babs and Tim were having similar issues with gathering information. He had sent a copy of the files over to them in a moment of weakness, but they were having the exact same results as him.

To make things worse, the GiW was more active than they had been previously, combing through Crime Alley and the rest of Gotham tirelessly. At least they weren’t harassing him anymore, he thought, but now he had even less of a clue what they wanted.

And to top it all off, the Joker had escaped Arkham a few days prior to Jason receiving Scarecrow’s note, and he still hadn’t done anything. That could only mean that he was planning something big, which meant more grief for Jason, because the clown was obsessed with him.

So yes, Jason wasn’t having the best week.

He got up from his computer, stretched, and walked over to the window.

The sky was Gotham’s usual grey, clouded with a toxic miasma made up of traditional pollutants and the aftermath of gas attacks both, which could generously be called ‘smog.’

The streets seemed busier than usual, or maybe that was just because Jason was having a hard time keeping his eyes focused.

With blurry vision and a dull ache in the back of his head, Jason paced through his apartment, going through everything he knew.

The GiW, or Ghost Investigation Ward, were part of a secret government project having to do with ‘ecto-entities,’ which were mostly made up of ghosts.

The GiW was able to kidnap and steal away anyone who was ‘ecto-contaminated’ to be dissected, and it was completely legal.

According to the non-censored patrol reports he was given, Jason himself was considered ecto-contaminated. So were Bruce, Damian, Steph, and Cass.

There were also several rogues that were in the same boat, but their names had been redacted, presumably by Scarecrow. He wasn’t entirely sure why, but he guessed it was either for leverage or privacy. Knowing Crane, it could be both.

Anything useful about the GiW seemed to be stored physically within their compounds, or on an operating system that couldn’t be accessed outside of certain areas.

Anything useful about ghosts was conveniently removed by Scarecrow.

And, lastly, he knew from capture logs that they had numerous captive ghosts which were definitely being experimented on. One of these ghosts was named Daniel, last name redacted, and had been turned over by his parents in return for allowing them to run their own experiments on the boy.

From what he could tell, it had been around fifty two days since he had been turned in.

Fifty two days of experimentation and dissection.

Jason had to find him.

But first, he had to find the locations of the GiW bases, and plan his entrance carefully. He couldn’t let them get away because of a simple mistake.

The only location data he had been able to find was on a picture of the boy, Daniel, a picture of a vigilante in a red suit, and a quick note left about Daniel which hadn’t been transferred into the main database.

The note was…

Jason had been around crime for a very, very long time. He understood it intimately, in a way most people would never hope to achieve.

He understood hatred, too.

And yet, the words in that note were almost incomprehensible to him.

They were mockery of a child in pain. A child that was not seen as human. A child that was seen as a threat, a monster.

The man had detailed the security surrounding the child being cut back. Apparently, the kid had some sort of sonic scream. They were removing the muzzle that inhibited it because he had screamed himself hoarse, and he couldn’t make a sound anymore.

He also mentioned that the kid was cut open at least once a day, sometimes multiple times. He was opened up, played with, and sewn back shut.

The man joked that they should just put a zipper on him, so they wouldn’t keep wasting their stitches.

Jason really, really wanted to kill that guy.

The metadata on the note traced back to a newly-bought building in Gotham’s financial district, while the photos both came from Amity Park, Illinois.

Amity Park, Illinois did not exist in any official capacity.

Tim, who had taken the Batplane to check the precise location listed in the metadata, had reported that there was a town there after all, and it was on complete media lockdown from the rest of the world. He hadn’t even been able to use Bat, Justice League, or Teen Titans channels to message anyone outside of the city until he left.

Jason had checked the building in the financial district firsthand, and found that the man who had submitted the note had done so while resting on a patrol of the city. He seemed to go there often to avoid his superiors, and Jason found it easy enough to get the drop on him the third time around.

His advanced interrogation techniques hadn’t been enough to get the man to name any locations. Worse, the man definitely recognized Red Hood, and would definitely tell the rest of the GiW about what had happened as soon as he left.

So, Jason did something about that. He couldn’t kill him, unfortunately, so he did the next best thing.

The GiW sent him to a public hospital within a few hours of finding him with shattered hand bones, broken arms, and a throat with near-permanent damage. The man wouldn’t be able to speak for a month at least.

He might never write again.

Jason, having read the note over and over until the words stained the backs of his eyes, thought it was the least he deserved.

Jason sighed, stopping his pacing. He wasn’t getting anywhere with this. If anything, working himself up was only going to lower the chances of him magically coming to a realization about where the kid was or what in the hell was going on.

He walked into the kitchen, popped some leftovers into the microwave, and started them up.

Once they were done, he brought them out to his desk, intending to eat as he continued to work on the GiW case.

When he saw his screen, he froze.

Telegram had been opened to a new chat with someone he had never messaged before.

TooFine: who are you?

TooFine: why are you looking into the giw?

The messages were a couple of minutes old, probably sent while Jason was spiraling pacing. He just stared at the screen, dumbstruck.

Shakily, he responded.

RedDead: How the hell did you get my contact info

Whoever was on the other side of the screen paused for a second. Jason considered sending a quick text to Babs to tell her what was going on, but he decided that he could handle this by himself.

TooFine: got it from the backdoor I put into the giw system.

RedDead: Shit

TooFine: ok your turn

TooFine: why r u looking into the giw? seriously man

RedDead: I don’t have a single reason to tell you. Give me one and I might answer your questions

TooFine paused again. Clearly they both had issues trusting someone over the internet, and rightfully so. What they had both admitted to doing was incredibly illegal, and if someone turned them in, they would be in deep shit.

TooFine: ive been trying to take down the giw since it was created. I can help u if ur honest with me

RedDead: Oh yeah, because no one has ever lied to another person on the internet before

RedDead: But fine

RedDead: I’m looking into them because they’ve been shadowing me for over a month at this point, among other reasons

TooFine: other reasons?

Jason sighed. He shouldn’t have added that. He knew that the other guy would ask, but he said something anyways.

RedDead: They’ve got a kid. I don’t like it when people hurt kids

TooFine: Danny? he’s alive?

RedDead: From what I can tell

So he knew the kid. Or, at least, he was pretending to. It would make sense for him to be cagey about his intentions, and for him to be desperate enough to reach out.

TooFine: oh my god

TooFine: do you know what city? fuck

TooFine: fuck fuck fuck

TooFine: I need to find him man please

RedDead: He’s somewhere in Gotham

RedDead: I’ve been trying to find him for a week now but no dice. They keep everything important on separate servers

TooFine: listen man you’re a good hacker but you’re not as good as me. you need my help if we’re gonna find Danny

RedDead: Okay, what are you trying to get me to agree to?

TooFine: i’m coming to gotham and we’re going to meet up

RedDead: Hell no

RedDead: Stranger danger

TooFine: if I tell u who I am will you say yes

RedDead: ?? How am I supposed to verify if you’re telling the truth

TooFine then sent him what seemed to be a selfie. Jason’s jaw dropped at the kid’s sheer audacity.

RedDead: There’s something seriously wrong with you

TooFine: my name is Tucker Foley. i live in amity park. i’m in 10th grade

RedDead: ???????? WHAT THE HELL

TooFine: i can send u my address too

RedDead: PLEASE DON’T??

RedDead: WHAT’S YOUR FUCKING DAMAGE? DON’T DOXX YOURSELF TO ME

RedDead: WHAT IF I WANTED TO KILL YOU OR SOMETHING? WHAT IF I WAS A FED

TooFine: i have to take that chance.

TooFine: Danny is my best friend. they’ve had him for over a month and no one’s doing anything to help. mr. Lancer was the only one who cared and he gave up after they blackmailed him

TooFine: they’ve had him for OVER A MONTH. I THOUGHT HE WAS DEAD.

TooFine: Sam and Jazz and I are coming to gotham and we’re going to find him no matter what it takes

TooFine: you have to help us

Jason considered, for a second, the choices he’d made in his life that had led up to this moment. He also considered, if he was in this kid’s position at his age, if he would be doing the same.

He decided to throw the kid a bone.

RedDead: [4735.jpg]

TooFine: HUH

RedDead: I’m guessing you know me

TooFine: RED HOOD??????

RedDead: No I’m just a very dedicated LARPer

TooFine: am i gonna die for Danny right now

RedDead: If I were literally anyone else, probably

RedDead: But no, you’re not. I’m gonna help you find your friend

TooFine: your username is red dead and you’re. yeah ok

RedDead: Oh come on, it’s funny

TooFine: Danny would love you

RedDead: So Danny clearly has great taste in jokes

TooFine: nope. literally loves puns and wordplay

RedDead: Nevermind

They both paused for a second. Then, Jason had a thought.

RedDead: Wait you’re in the 10th grade and you’re hacking into government databases?

TooFine: please don’t tell my parents.

RedDead: And how are you supposed to explain a sudden vacation to Gotham to your parents?

TooFine: wait so you’ll help me?

RedDead: I really hate to say it but I’m not the best at hacking, and my usual help is busy trying to track down the Joker. So, yep, we’re teaming up

TooFine: LET’S GOOOOOO

RedDead: God. I’m asking a 16 year old to help me take down a government agency and save another 16 year old

RedDead: I feel like the bat

TooFine: oh my god this is awesome. Danny is gonna flip when the actual real-life Red Hood comes to save him.

RedDead: I already regret this

TooFine: too late.

TooFine: btw do u have any place for 2 teenagers and 1 adult teenager to stay in gotham? preferably without dying but yknow.

Jason groaned. He was really, really gonna regret this, and he knew it.

Still, the alternative was some overeager kid dragging two other idiots to Gotham to find their friend and getting themselves killed. At least this way he’d have help, and damn good help at that.

He really was turning into the Bat, wasn’t he?

—

[munivrse]

Bada as your tall sexy dancer gf 😍😍

no but fr here are some hcs of bada as your tall sexy dancer gf

def jokes around about how little you are compared to her, even if you're close to her height.

really likes to dress you in her own clothes because i think bada is a little possessive

just likes you in her things.

buys you alot of jewelry bc "you're pretty... so is this necklace... it only made sense to buy it for you. pretty squared."

"bada this necklace was triple digits-"

"shh- just keep being pretty, let me worry about everything else."

i think bada relies emotionally on you alot.

as a leader i think she feels alot of things that she might not be able to confide in with her crew so naturally she comes to you but i think its something you'd have to pull out of her.

i don't see her as someone who just openly talks about her feelings so she'll probably be in like a pissy mood until finally you're like

"stop throwing a pity party for yourself, woman up and tell me what you have going on."

and then she's like... damn okay guess i gotta vulnerable.

you're the only one that gets to see her that way

you accompany her during her classes that she teaches

people love to watch you two interact

during the 'you got it' dance class she made direct eye contact with you during her freestyle and you died and came back to life

she just does shit to make you nervous i think

she'll get so close to you in public that you have to crane your neck up to see her

loves eye contact

sits you on her lap A LOT

like thats your permanent seat. there could be plenty of room next to her but if you decide to sit beside and not on her, she'll pull you into her lap regardless.

NSFW time!

could spend hours fingering you.

bada is big in figure so naturally her fingers are long as fuck.

you're whining, legs clamping around her hand and she just...

"so small. my pretty little baby."

oh my god im blushing

starts every petname with "my"

really, really soft with her words

OPPOSITE WITH HER ACTIONS.

shes murmuring praises in your ear about how

"you're such a good girl for me." "you take it so well don't you?" "you were made for me, mm?" "keep making those pretty noises for me."

meanwhile she's fucking her strap into you so hard you're literally moving up the bed, the only thing stopping you from hitting the headboard is bada's hand cradling your head 😭

bada is really sensitive around her ears and jaw so if you want to see her fall apart instead, sit on her lap and leave hickeys on her neck 🫂

omg makeout sessions with bada

bada is an ass and titties kinda man like theres no discrimination.

one hand is gripping your ass and the other is fondling your chest like she believes in equality

do NOT wear a skirt around this woman bc YOU ARE NOT SAFE

she'll watch you get dressed in a skimpy little skirt and just watch you like a hawk while you put on your makeup.

youre like "u good"

and bada's jaw just clenches

now you're like "... do you want me to change.."

bada tsks, "no, i can fight."

LIKE DAMN THATS NOT WHAT YOU ASKED

shes so fine bro idc i want her to *** ** *** ***** * **** *** *** ***

[demonoflight]

Fun facts and tidbits from Deep Cut’s stage dialogue:

While Shiver and Frye have favorite weapon classes they swear by (stringers for Shiver and splatanas for Frye), Big Man is the kind of guy who uses different weapons for different stages. Some of the weapons he uses are brushes (at Inkblot Art Academy), blasters (at Humpback Pump Track) and sloshers (at Eeltail Alley).

Frye likes coming up with attack names for Specials used in highly specific ways and charging in with a war cry in turf battles. She is not stealthy.

Deep Cut sells their treasure from the Crater at a high price to a guy running a shady stall in Hagglefish Market.

Shiver’s need for speed is not limited to riding Master Mega into battle. She has openly contemplated taking the cars at Mincemeat Metalworks and the Manta Maria itself for joyrides, and her parents were worried about her riding a bicycle because she’s a danger and a menace to everybody and WILL run you over.

Some stage dialogue basically confirms Deep Cut are housemates (oh my god they were roommates) - the three of them even go shopping for groceries at MakoMart together (Shiver recommends buying in bulk on Tuesdays for great savings!). Frye keeps trying to sneak unapproved snacks into their cart, but Shiver and Big Man are on to her shenanigans.

Big Man has been teaching the girls how to cook ever since they started living together! In Japanese, Shiver straight up admits to struggling with cooking when she moved out of her parents’ house since she’s never really had to cook before, and Frye says before Big Man taught them the basics she mostly ate junk she got from the supermarket. Either way, Big Man points out Frye has a bad habit of putting a ton of sugar into EVERYTHING. She’s... she’s working on it.

None of the Deep Cut trio have ever lived in a housing complex with apartments like Flounder Heights. Frye is very open to the idea, but Shiver isn’t since she thinks she wouldn’t get along well with neighbors.

Deep Cut’s go-to venue for birthday parties is Big Man’s house. It is unclear if it’s because it’s the biggest and nicest of the clan houses, or if it’s because Big Man (and his family by proxy) are the most easygoing and willing to hold parties there.

Both Big Man and Frye have a past with Undertow Spillway - Big Man got lost there once as a child while chasing butterflies, while a young Frye used to skip dance lessons and take her little brother with her to explore and look for treasure.

Frye used to skip school a LOT.

Deep Cut has filmed music videos at Mincemeat Metalworks and Hammerhead Bridge, but the latter was never released because Big Man was knocked over by a strong wind.

Some time ago, Deep Cut were extras for a movie filmed at Scorch Gorge. They were only in the film for two seconds.

Deep Cut are completely weirded out by the NILS Statue, are further weirded out by the fact no one really talks about anymore, and think it’s stupid that there are still tour boats sailing right by the statue. See, they CAN be sensible every once in a while.

Big Man likes to imagine the big cranes at Sturgeon Shipyard combining into a giant robot. Big Man is a nerd.

One of the Mahi-Mahi Resort dialogues has Shiver complaining about how hot it is at the poolside. In English, Big Man suggests taking a dip in the pool, and immediately realizes his friendly advice could be misconstrued because what works for him does NOT work for an inkfish. Compare and contrast Marie telling Callie to take a dip in said pool back in the first game’s NOA translation... they’ve definitely gotten better about this, Big Man really just comes off as a well-meaning goofball here. Meanwhile, in Japanese, Shiver’s complaint brings him to a realization: “so THAT’S why you keep standing in my shadow when we’re here...”

Frye is the kind of person who goes into turf battle with a weapon in one hand and a snack in the other (the only person, Shiver insists). This has made her the target for seagulls enough times that she has issued a public service warning about the little snack thieves.

Once, Frye used Zipcaster to enter one of the high cages at Scorch Gorge... and could not figure out how to get out. There were tears. She insists she didn’t cry and does not want to talk about it.

[1v31182m5]

Random kfp headcanons that I had (that I am not making them up right now for a post, I just had these in my mind since forever)

- the release date of the movies are the birthdates of the villains (Tai Lung 6th of June, Shen 26th of May, Kai 29th of January)

- Obviously Tai doesn't know his birthday so they celebrate the day Shifu got him instead which is the 4th of July (I chose this date because it was the date that it aired on my country :3 )

-Meanwhile Tai and Shen have their family issues Kai has loving parents with a wholesome relationship and absolute no problems with.

"Okay I get it fine you're all without fathers alright"

K: I'm not

K: I love my dad

K: My dad's fucking awesome

- I headcanon the mixed animals offsprings work the same way in Beastars so the offspring won't be a mixed creature but rather just one of the parents

- Kai has a cow mother and a crocodile father.

- Shen's mom's mother is an Albatross.

- Both of Tai's parents are snow leopards

- I know people usually say that Po and Tai would be besties which I agree but among the villains I think his bestie would be Kai, they seemed to be getting along (almost) in the movie for me X)

- After the third film I cannot imagine Tigress and Po not having a panda daughter

- Tigress and Po has a panda daughter. One child

- Tigress becomes Shifu's succesor. Taking over the Jade Palace ( after it is rebuilt ) Teaching new generations

- Crane is the first one to marry among the five. Mantis is the last he's scared (didn't marry an other mantis oh god kajsksbdjs)

- Po is the youngest member and Mantis is the oldest

- Oogway and Kai met in the army but they knew eachother's existence before that. They just weren't talking to eachother at all

- Kai listens to Oogway's "deep talks". When he was young he couldn't exactly come up with words to explain what is in his mind and tell it, Kai watched him as he mixed 15 random words together to explain what his philosophical thoughts were

"You have an enlightenment every day"

-Shen had a close relationship with his parents till the age of 5. Then it fell apart

- Tai Lung used to count his spots regularly to see if he had grown any more. He stopped after he finished puberty

- I'll probably add more I just kinda don't remember all of them right now

[deathbxnny]

If requests are open can I request Jing Yuan and Yanqing with a physically weak S/O that almost got harmed thanks to a marastruck outbreak?

-----♡

A/N: Hello, thank you for the request, anon! I hope you like it!<33

Featured characters: Jing Yuan, Yanqing

Content: light mentions of violence and fighting, physically weak reader, established relationship, hurt/comfort, angst, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Sorry for any mistakes, not fully proofread!))

-----♡

》Yanqing

He was with his master during the break out, far away from where you where during it. You weren't the strongest physically. You got tired and exhausted by anything that strained your body fast and Yanqing knew that. Which is why he usually always kept you close or somewhere where he knew you were safe.

But when he was allowed to go see you during the breakout, he quickly realised that you were nowhere to be found. You weren't at home or anywhere close to the generals office for that matter, like you always were. And that immideatly made Yanqing panic. He quickly excused himself to look for you, trying his best to use his skills to hunt you down.

You didn't mean to accidentally leave the safe zones. You just zoned out, your mind in the clouds, when you suddenly realised that everyone was... gone. It was eerily quiet, no guards or researchers in sight, before you were suddenly attacked by a monster. You screamed, falling backwards and realising you were cornered against a container.

Tears welled up in your eyes, as you closed them, already beginning to pant in panic. You tried keeping it away from you with your hands and arms, but you weren't strong enough. You never were. You regretted everything in that moment and could only pray, that Yanqing wouldn't be mad at you for dying.

But then, you suddenly heard a screech and felt someone pull you into their protective, warm embrace. You opened your eyes slowly, the familiar scent of your lover filling you, before you hugged Yanqing back and cried pitifully, apologies leaving you for wandering off so carelessly.

Yanqing just held you close, comforting you as he led you back into the safe zone to get someone to check on your health or any injuries.

"It's okay, my crane. I'll always keep you safe and you know that... just stay close."

-----♡

》Jing Yuan

He's usually always at your side, when your taking a walk or just leaving the house. But if he's too busy, he sends Yanqing or a guard to accompany you in his stead.

But during the breakout, you were wandering around on your own, not wanting to be a burden to anyone after all. You knew, that Jing Yuan wouldn't be happy about you doing this, but you just wanted to take a quick walk and didn't want to bother anyone for something so insignificant.

Yet you came to regret that decision rather quickly, especially when you missed the breakout being announced and the monsters filling into the place you were in. You grew nervous, when you saw no one around anymore, no guards or researchers. You were about to head back, when suddenly a couple monsters blocked your way. You tried keeping them away with a sword you were required to wear with you, but you weren't strong enough to hold out for long.

Meanwhile, Jing Yuan was ripping everything apart to find his dear s/o. When his guards reported, that you were nowhere to be found, he quickly took it into his own hands and began searching for you. You were his priority after all. He felt blinding rage fill him, when he saw you nearly get slashed by a monster after being knocked down and quickly made work of a whole mob of them with ease.

The walk back to the safe zone was quiet, he insisted on carrying you just in case you were injured and you were too guilty to deny or say anything to him. But just before he reached it, he burried his face into your neck comfortingly, his arms wrapping around you even tighter as he held you up easily.

"Please... never do that again. I could never forgive myself, if something happened to you, my love."

-----♡

A/N: I hope this was okay! Thank you once again for the request!<33

♡All requests are appreciated.♡

[pompomegranate]

rush job [18+]

chainsaw man | aki hayakawa x f!reader | 1.8k

warnings | explicit smut. quickie. no condom. 18+. minors dni. reader features | smaller than aki, hair at least shoulder length a/n | wrote this in one go, because aki is occupying every space of my mind right now. not sorry about it. more detailed tags on ao3. not beta read or edited sorry! hope you enjoy! read on ao3

With time ticking away, a strict countdown till Aki needs to head back, it doesn’t deter him from taking the time to tease you.

Cock sliding up and down your slit, tip firm and wet from you, delicious friction against your clit stealing a whine from your parted lips.

You can’t see him smile, but you can feel it.

Nimble fingers pull your hair to the side, tugging at the hem of your shirt so he can pepper kisses at the nape of your neck and you whisper his name like a prayer. Those same expert fingers dance downward, across your clothing, eliciting a shudder from you every time the pads of them graze your exposed skin.

Your flushed cheek pressed against the cool surface of the wall does nothing to keep you from sweating – it’s so hard to keep still when all you want to do is crane your head back and watch his face, pinched in concentration, as he inches his way into you.

He mumbles a praise and pulls away, the absence of his length against you one you sense immediately – before you can complain, he replaces his cock with his hand. Fingers working your clit with a fervor, he presses his palm against you harder, harder and you ride him – grinding slowly like you’ve got all the time in the world.

Lunch break is over in twenty, and yet, you’re here, half naked in the entrance of your apartment, bones liquifying as an orgasm travels through every nerve of your body.

“Aki – fuck –” you curse, barely able to get the words out of your mouth before he’s slipping those same fingers into your mouth so you can taste yourself. Taste just what the skilled hands of a seasoned devil hunter can do to you.

He’s fully clothed, completely put together aside from the jacket he’s neatly hung on the hook beside you (sleeves unbuttoned and pushed to his elbows as he goes to work), and the belt, now undone, hard-on freed and ready for your pleasure.

Meanwhile, you’re a mess, clothes askew, hair tangled from foreplay. Sweat stains on your shirt, wrinkles throughout the fabric, arousal spots on your underwear. You can't help but be in a state of disarray when it comes to Aki.

“Spread for me,” he murmurs the gentle command against your neck, sucking the skin with a pop of his mouth, sure to leave a mark hidden by your hair.

You almost listen, but you’re so sensitive that you can’t – you clench your legs together as best you can, though his thigh between your legs keeps your knees from touching.

“Please.”

It’s hard for you to not obey when he asks so sweetly.

You scoot your feet farther apart, spreading for him.

The heat of his chest leaves your back for a moment as he takes a good look at you. You take advantage of the absence and crane your neck around, watching the faint hunger in his stormy blue eyes as he appraises you – hands against the wall, bent over, cunt wet and prepped for him.

Cool, calm, and collected, Aki takes you.

Digging a thumb into the fabric half covering your pussy, he tears it to the side, hands splaying on both cheeks as he holds you open.

You can’t help but moan when he leans down and licks a long, firm swipe from bottom to top – even more so when he spouts a second command.

“Spit,” he says, voice hoarse with need. You spit, and crane back to get a glimpse of your saliva lubing up his tip and shaft, mixing with a bead of precum that’s all your doing.

You feel his free hand swipe your cheek with a gentle touch, tugging damp strands of hair away from your face. And there’s the well-concealed softness you’ve grown to love about Aki.

Rough hands and the ghost of a smile. Blunt words and vulnerable eyes. Revenge and yearning. Desperation and desire.

Aki is a paradox that you want to spend the rest of your days analyzing.

Nearing fifteen minutes on the countdown, you brace for the initial stretch, the beyond satisfying sensation of Aki’s cock molding you to him a memory you’re grateful to relive as many times as Aki’s up for.

“Shit –” he hisses, sinking himself into you, deeper, deeper, hands grasping desperately at your hips.

“Oh my god, Aki, baby –” you can barely speak, it’s so good.

You adjust around him, lids fluttering shut when he finally bottoms out. You hold your arch while he slides out at a torturous pace, the ridge of his tip the only part of him left in you when –

He pushes all the way back in, filling you again and you gasp. You can’t hold it in – you’re so full but the ache hasn’t subsided, one that’s only satiated by him ramming his hips into you while grumbling expletives into your ear.

“Harder, please,” you manage, mouth forming loose shapes around your cries.

“Of course. As you wish,” he answers with a pant, curling an arm around your waist, pulling you flat against him.

He bucks up into you at a maddening pace, hips snapping into you unrelentingly. You can’t stop your jaw from going slack as you take it – take all of it from your lover.

His hand wanders its way under your shirt, past the cup of your bra till he’s massaging a tit and pinching a nipple with precision, fucking up into you as he does so, never breaking his concentration.

It’s a futile effort to do anything but mewl Aki’s praises – yes, just like that, you’re so good.

He’s humble enough that he’d never ask you to compliment his form, but god – when you do? He makes it a personal goal to improve.

Aki fucks you even better than the last time, breaking his imaginary personal record, so that this time is even more memorable than the last.

You tilt back to kiss him, sloppy kisses with tongues intertwined. He tastes like the piece of nicotine gum he’s just spit out and a hint of his morning coffee, bitter and bold. 

Ten minutes left, and you’re still not there. You murmur a request to move, and he obliges, walking you over to the neat kitchen counter so you can hike a leg up. 

Bending forward to brace your hands on the counter, you wait for him again. This time, you can watch him comfortably, watch as his face contorts as he pushes into you, watch as his mouth parts, watch as his gaze clouds with lust that sends tingles up your spine like nails dragging up bare skin.

He’s more desperate this time, pushing into you with a hurried stroke.

The clock ticks, and you’re focusing on anything you can to get yourself there.

The feeling of his hand holding your thigh in place on the countertop, the other on the small of your back, anchoring himself as he fucks into you with fervor. The sound of his cock as it slides in and out of your slick heat. The soft grunts he emits as he picks up speed.

The fact that he could fuck anyone, coworker or stranger, but there’s only you.

You jut back against him, and the broken moan that falls from his lips drives you wild.

The clock ticks, and it’s nearly time for him to leave – he’s never late, and he’s not going to start now, even if he’s in the middle of fucking you senseless.

The second hand lags behind the the steady (but frenzied) beat Aki fucks you to. It’s fast, it’s wild, it’s everything you need.

You feel it build in you, gripping onto whatever you’re able with sweaty palms. Your thigh slides towards Aki, skin slippery against the counter.

Pinning you down, he drives into you – you’re close, so close as he starts to curl his hips –

Pressure builds and then it snaps like a twig beneath the weight, your mind all consumed with the overwhelming pleasure that bursts inside of you, a dam that floods every one of your senses. He’s kissing your neck and gripping your waist and tickling your ear with a breathy compliment that zaps every nerve in your body –

“You’re so good for me, love, come for me – that’s it – come for me.”

And you do.

Legs squeezing, pulse so fast that you’re surprised your heart hasn’t completely burst in your chest. Features pinched as you ride out your wave, cumming on his cock while his hips pump erratically.

Despite the reverie of your own climax, you’re not greedy. In the haze, you register the time on the clock. He should be gone by now.

You can feel his orgasm on the horizon, so you do what you do best – work him, tease him, coax it out of him.

Straightening up till your back is pressed against his chest, you roll your hips, writhing against him as best you can, whimpering in the way he likes and it’s working.

“Come in me, Aki, please, I need you.”

That’s all it takes. 

A simple request, an earnest plea, and a sincere line straight from the heart, all cushioned around the syllables of his name.

That’s all it takes for Aki Hayakawa to come undone.

He spills into you, garbled groans whispered against your neck.

You think he says he loves you, but you can’t be sure. Your focus is split between the countdown and the comedown.

The tiny kitchen is filled with heavy breathing from the both of you, ricocheting against the walls.

He should be leaving, but he takes the time to press a sweet kiss on your shoulder before pulling out of you, treating you like you’re so delicate you’ll break beneath his hands – it’s almost comical that he does so considering how roughly he’d fucked you mere seconds ago.

Gently twisting you till you’re facing him, he slides his hands underneath your ass, lifting you to the counter. Your legs are jelly, and your pussy is full, and you’re sure Aki would hate this if he really thought about how you’re defiling his spotless kitchen, but in the foggy afterglow, all he’s doing is smiling gratefully at you.

“You’re going to be late,” you say, voice quiet.

“I can come up with an excuse.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely,” he murmurs, cupping your cheek with his hand.

He’s late now, but all that matters is the way he’s watching you with a loving expression (a product of the afterglow), cradling you like you’re breakable, treating you like you’re the only thing consequential, like nothing else matters.

Leaning in for a final kiss, you taste him again, minty and sharp, committing this to memory, so that every sense of him lingers in your mind when you think of today.

This is his best work. A new personal record.

[feartoxinjelloshot]

MOLLY RANDALL was a young student at the high school where Jonathan Crane taught chemistry. Like him, she dealt with a medley of chronic health issues, and like him, her parents were neglectful and unsupportive. Over time he got to know her and took a (repressed) liking to her; she was of course ecstatic to have an adult pay her positive attention and latched onto him immediately. Due to her parents' neglect they often left her to get home from school on her own, and this eventually led to her spending some afternoons at Jonathan's apartment, where he would help her with her homework or simply offer her company that her parents did not (as she was not well liked by her peers and had no friends her age). This is where she met Edward Nygma, as he lived in the same apartment building as Jonathan -- upon finding out about her devoted passion for journaling and blogging, he quickly developed a fondness for her as well. With his and Jonathan's encouragement she set up an online blog where she published a home-written newsletter under the screen name Miss Tuesday: it was mostly benign local news, but her willful proximity to two of Gotham's more well-known supervillains sometimes let her publish things she wouldn't otherwise have known about. (The subject of the Riddler and the Scarecrow was an uncertain subject among them, moreso the latter as dictated by Jonathan's ever-present neuroses. They never told her outright, but they felt strongly that she knew, and she did nothing to prove or disprove her knowledge either way.)

The Joker, meanwhile, long after the loss of his wayward Harlequin, was getting lonely and bored with his own tricks. As time passed he began to slowly notice Molly's presence and association with Ed and Jon, and the more he thought of it the more jealous he became. She followed them around like a little puppydog! She revered them! The Joker had never been much for children, but, he figured, he'd never taken a crack at making one. Maybe it could be the key to all that he had wished for. A sidekick of his own! So he went down, very far down, into the depths of the sewers underneath Gotham, and he found a particular green lake, and with a drop of the water he forged his own rotten flesh, and a short strand of blonde hair, and sugar and snails and puppy dog's tails, and all the things little girls are made of...

[faitry]

“IF SHE GET OFF, THEN I GET OFF, THAS MY CONCERN”

Warnings: Cunnilingus, Armin is a munch🙁, swearing, cheating

 “Meet me at my apartment tonight?” You tell him with a smile. Armin turned pink, knowing what you wanted. “Are you sure?” He asks, his eyes widening and eyebrows pinching together. “I hear you’re good. Why not?” You said, walking away after. You knew he knew what you wanted. Although having a boyfriend, he never really met every need, sexually. Sure he made you cum, but when you asked, he never ate you out. You’d known Armin since your junior year of highschool, and now being in your second year of college, he’d grown to be quite attractive. Cutting his hair, wearing contacts, clear skin, beautiful blonde hair, everything about him was perfect. You’d heard from your friends that he was a munch, Ultimately meaning that he was okay with giving a woman head, without anything in return. So, putting it up to the test you asked him to meet you at your apartment, knowing your boyfriend was gone for the week visiting his mom.

when hearing the knock on your door, you had the slightest bit of makeup on, and put on the most provocative outfit you had. You swung open the door, and saw Armin, he looked so nervous. “Hey Armin” you say stepping aside to let him in. “Hey, so like..?” He says looking everywhere but at you. “Is it too much?” You say taking a step closer, now being closer in front of him as you gesture down to your outfit. He looks down at you with a flushed face. “Of course not! I just- it doesn’t feel right…” he says backing up a bit. “I mean, you showed up” you say smiling. He stays silent as you say “follow me” he obeys you and follows you down the hall to your bedroom. You sat on your bed and asked “will you please help me Armin..?”. He stares at you in awe at your beauty. You spread your legs a bit, showing him the damp spot in your shorts. He nods as he got on his knees and asked “can I take it off?”. “Yes please” you say already out of breath just at the pretty sight in front of you. He takes his time taking your tight shorts off, and he moves your underwear to the side instead of taking them off and starts to lap up your juices. He rubs your clit in circles as he darts his tongue in and out of you. Meanwhile his other hand on your thigh. “Fuck Armin!” You moan out as he replaced his tongue with his fingers, putting his tongue on your clit, sucking and licking. He moans into you, bucking his hips into the mattress to give him some sort of friction. You’re seeing stars at this point, throwing your head back and bucking your hips into his face. “Holy shit youre..you’re so good at that oh my god!” You say as you crane your neck at him to see him so focused on you. It’s a beautiful sight, until the ringtone of your phone plays. Startled, you jump a bit and search for your phone, while Armin is still going. “Wait, it’s my boyfriend” you say, answering the call. He stops and sits back cris-cross. “Hey” you say to him, sounding bored on purpose. “What’s up?” He asks you. “Nothing was about to go to sleep” you lie. Armin has an idea and comes closer to you, and begins to finger you. You gasp and look at him. “Are you okay?” Your boyfriend asks you through the phone. “Ye-yea I’m fine… oh my god” you say just as Armin starts to lick and suck your clit again, staring at you the entire time. “Call you later” you say quickly as you turn the phone and its sound off. Close to coming undone, you hold a grip onto his hair and have an unsteady breath. “I’m gonna cum Armin please..!” You gasp out and cum on his face. He pulls away, the bottom half of his face wet with your juices.

FAITRY © 2023. Please do not steal and/or plagiarize my work !

[jojoforthesoul]

Healing Hands

Note: So when I first started this bog I was a minor and not very comfortable with writing smut, but now as a 19 year old, I have finally decided to try my hand at it. I hope you enjoy this NSFW version of an old scenario about Jotaro! (click here if you want to read it) Please let me know if you have any constructive comments!

Afab reader but no pronouns used.

NSFW BELOW THE CUT PLEASE NO MINORS!!

“Could you have tried to avoid at least some of the blows out there?” you tsk in annoyance at your boyfriend across from you.

Jotaro rolls his eyes and groans in reciprocated annoyance. You don’t notice his sass, too preoccupied with the various stains of blood littering his shirt. The part that really worries you though is the large gash in his abdomen.

“Whatever happened doesn’t matter, what matters is how deep this cut goes.” you say as you gently grasp his forearm and pull him to the bathroom. “I hope you’re not gonna need stitches because I did not sign up for that.”

He grunts and groans in pain as he sits down on the toilet lid, meanwhile you spin around and bend over to look in your bag for a first aid kit.

“Where is this god damn kit?” you mumble to yourself. You faintly hear rustling behind you, but more importantly, you can feel your lovers eyes staring daggers at your propped up behind. Deciding to tease him a little for looking, you gently wiggle your hips as you finish your search and come back up with the first aid kit.

Your set it on the counter, and when you turn around, you’re greeted to the sight of the strikingly handsome Jotaro completely shirtless and splayed out on the toilet. Now it’s your turn to ogle him as his muscular chest and arms twitch from the pain he’s in. You hate to see your lover hurting, but fuck does he look good right now.

You’re snapped out of your daze when he moves to adjust himself on his uncomfortable seat. Your face flushes at your lapse in propriety and you quickly turn back to the task at hand.

Grabbing wash-clothes and wet rags, you clean up your battered boyfriend. In doing so, you decide that the gash isn’t deep enough to need anything other than ointment and bandages. Jotaro’s body slowly relaxes as he relishes in the loving treatment you give him as you wash and bandage him up. He sighs at the feeling of your hands dragging along his abdomen and chest as you bandage him up. He’s in heaven, completely blissed out from the feeling of just you.

When your hands pull away, he almost attempts to pull them back, but you walk away too quickly.

While Jotaro is having the time of his life, you are a sweaty, flustered mess. You can’t lie, feeling up your lover was like heaven for you too, but you can feel your body aching for more. The thought of being this worked up over bandaging up your boyfriend is completely mortifying.

You put away your kit and leave the bathroom as quickly as possible to give yourself space from the demon seducing you. Jotaro soon slowly follows you out, still completely shirtless.

“Something wrong, sweetheart?” Jotaro asks teasingly. “You seem a bit flustered.” He slowly makes his way over to your spot on the bed.

You become even more flustered at him calling you out and can’t help but to try to hide your face in your hands. Jotaro quickly walks up to where you’re sat and gently grabs your wrists pulling them away from your face.

“Don’t be shy. I’m your boyfriend after all.” Him saying this does nothing to help your mortification, but you decide to mask it by making the first move.

You crane your neck upward to catch his lips in a passionate kiss; trying to show him every bit of your need in just one kiss. Somehow he understands you as he grabs you from under your thighs and pulls them apart to cage himself between them.

He removes one of his hands from kneeding your thighs to cup your face and pull you in for another passionate kiss. You take the opportunity to place your hands on his chest and begin feeling him up again. He sighs and grunts into the kiss at your menstruations and moves to kiss your neck in retaliation. You gasp and sigh as he bites your neck then slowly soothes over the mark with his tongue.

You slowly drag your hand from his broad chest down to below his belt, being extra carful as you pass his newly bandaged wound. You gently grab your lover through his pants and begin rubbing him. He jolts at the sudden pleasure and begins to lowly groan in your ear as he thrusts and twitches in your hand. Suddenly, the pleasure becomes to much yet to little for Jotaro, so he quickly reaches down to undo his belt.

“Come here baby,” he commands as he pulls down his pants and underwear in one go. He sits back of the bed, resting against the pillows and headboard. “Since you wanted to be a little slut and shake your ass for me while you tried to find the aid kit, you can continue by putting on a show for me now.”

Understanding what he meant you smile as you grab the bottom of your shirt and slowly pull it up, making sure to put your tits in full view as they bounce.

Jotaro leans back and slowly begins to jerk his cock as he watches his favorite show, you flaunting your beautiful body.

You bite your lip at the sight of his vulgar state as you feel yourself getting wetter than you unknowingly already are. You shook your ass like before as you turn around to slowly shimmy your pants down, bending down to flash your pussy at him.

Jotaro loudly groans at the sight of your perfect cunt. He quickly moves to pull you onto the bed with him and pulls you on top of his lap. He’s so overwhelmed with just how needy he is for you to wrap around his dick that he can barley hold himself back from shoving you down on him as soon as you settle into his lap. However, while he may be hornier than he’s ever been, he’s still a gentleman.

Quickly, your both caught a flurry of lips and tongue as your hands roam each others now naked bodies. After he’s committed the feeling of every curve and dip of your body, Jotaro’s hands make their way to your core. You gasp as he lightly grazes his fingers over your opening, collecting some of the wetness there, to then slowly, almost tortuously, slide his forefingers over your aching clit. Jotaro disconnects the kiss as you begin to gasp and moan from his menstruations; he’s focused only on bringing you the most pleasure before he loses himself in you. He unexpectedly slides his two fingers inside your cunt, plesently surprising you. You can feel yourself getting close as you grind your clit onto the bottom of his palm, and your release comes as soon as he curls his fingers one last time. You’re in heaven, completely dumb from just your boyfriend’s fingers, but almost immediately, Jotaro is feeling an ache in his cock to fill you.

He needs to make you fully stupid for his dick, and his alone.

“Please baby come sit on my cock, I need it so bad,” he pleads desperately. You’ve never heard your boyfriend so needy for you before, and you’re now realizing it turns you on like hell.

Through your bliss, you grab the base of his cock as you bend to kiss his neck and cheeks. Though as soon as you fit the bulky tip into your opening, your impatient boyfriend grabs you by the hips and slams you down to his base. It an overwhelming sensation that fully knocks the wind out of you.

“Jojo!” you let out in a half moan, half gasp. He begins slowly thrusting up into you as he wraps his arms around your waist and back to pin you to his chest. Soon enough, you’re both a mess of moans and sweat.

“Fuck you’re so tight,” Jotaro grunts. You watch as his beautiful face scrunches up in pleasure. Your pussy clenches around his shaft as he quickly thrust into you. He begins slowly moving you to slam down on him harder. You’re pretty much brain dead from his actions, and he takes notice.

“You’re so pretty… going stupid on my cock,” Jotaro pants out as he feels himself getting closer.

You clench harder around him knowing that’s he’s close, feeling yourself getting close as well. “Please, Jojo- ah!- so close…” you mumble out between moans. You can’t help but to focus on your lover’s beautiful body, the slopes of his abs spasming from your bouncing and his matching thrusts as he glistens beautifully with sweat in the afternoon light.

With just a few more strokes, your cunt seizes around him as you climax. Jotaro’s following behind soon enough, as he pulls out of you after a few more strokes and releases his load on your ass.

You lay all of your weight on top of your boyfriend as you both pant and come down from your respective highs. Once, you come back to your senses you roll off of Jotaro and lay beside him, still slightly panting. “Maybe I should get hurt more often if this is the kind of treatment I get afterwards,” he says smirking at you.

[iknowyuu]

[10:36 PM]

kdrama!sieun x reader

// when reader finds a kitten and takes it to the first place they can think of; sieun's apartment.

tags: gender neutral reader, kissing, teasing, little meow (cat)

note: REQS R OPEN !! yea this was from that one ask but i couldn't resist it was so cute😭 i tried my best to proofread but we all know how that goes... currently listening to soty btw

♡

he stood there and blinked at you. once, twice, three times. he couldn’t even comprehend what you were saying as he stared at the thing in your arms. the animal in your arms.

“-ieun?? i know i'm really wet, but can i come in? please?” you pouted at him, shivering from your wet clothes but not minding it at all, just trying your hardest to keep the kitten hiding in your arms as dry as possible. he finally snapped out of it and stepped aside, letting you in. you scrambled inside, pulling off your shoes and stepping into the slippers, before walking over to the island in his kitchen, placing the kitten there before going to the sink. you ran a warm water bath for the little guy, meanwhile sieun still stood at the door, watching you in awe.

“sieun, please stop ogling at me and find some towels!!” you jokingly stated, moving your head towards him. he once again snapped out of his daze, moving towards the bathroom to find extra cloths. “i wasn’t doing that,” he mumbled, lying to himself before coming back out with two drastically differently sized towels.

he walked over to the kitten on the counter, approaching it with caution. “how do i..” he trailed off. “oh, pick him up and bring him here.” you splashed the water around to make sure it wasn’t too hot before watching him expectantly. he stared at it for a second before attempting to pick him up. the tiny cat had little to no reaction- as sieun placed his hands under and around it, it did nothing but stare at him.

he placed it in the shallow bowl of warm water, watching as you bathed it with the water in an attempt to get it cleaner. minutes passed and minimal conversation was exchanged, the both of you only focusing on the cat.

you put so much effort into cleaning it up, after you were finished you walked over to the counter and wrapped the towel around the small cat, bringing it up to your chest, cooing at it in an attempt to calm it down. sieun's eyes watched you, and the way you treated it, noting how gentle you were with the small cat. "can you watch him while i change?" he nodded once, smiling before walking to his door to find some clothes to wear, later moving to the bathroom to change.

sieun sat on the floor of his room beside the kitty, staring at it as it waddled around in a circle. what was he even supposed to do with it? he's never had a pet before, let alone an almost newborn kitten. he recalled the way you held it and decided it might be beneficial to it if he interacted with it.

he didn't say anything as he scooted closer to it, placing a hand in it's path to prevent it from wandering off further. he picked it up like you did with the towel, bringing it close to his chest, craning his neck downward to stare at it. "meowr," the creature let out, staring at him with big beady eyes.

ah, now he understood why you took it in.

it leaned it's head into his shirt and very, very softly purred. the corners of his mouth tilted upwards as he began to gently but stiffly stroke it's fur. it meow'd again and slowly closed it's eyes, it's soft snores following after, and it didn't take him long to realize it was sleeping. "[name]?" he called for you before he slowly stood up and peeked out of his door, looking for you. "coming!" you whisper-shouted, walking towards him with the stray can of tuna you found in his cupboard. "oh," you mumbled as you saw the sleeping kitten that was cradled in his arms, before looking up to see that he was looking down at it too. he looked up, meeting your eyes. "he fell asleep suddenly," he watched your expression that quickly brightened as you noticed the sparkle in his eyes, watching as he looked back down at it. "so cute." you didn't move your gaze as his shifted to yours. his head snapped towards yours, looking into your eyes, almost as if he was shocked; his stomach suddenly swarming with a fluttery feeling. you smiled at his shyness and cupped his cheek, leaning in closer as the both of your eyes slowly closed, "was talking about you, by the way," you whispered onto his lips. you closed the gap between his mouth and yours, relishing in the way he sighed into the kiss. the two of you held it for a while before he pulled away, immediately turning away and back into his room in an attempt to hide his face from you, the corners of his lips turning upwards as he walked. you giggled at his action, going to join him on the floor of his room.

♡

taglist: @brxght-world @karyuliee @kkaesslovr @qtaisuu

[homomenhommes]

THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY

based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more … December 22

1823 – The American author, abolitionist, and soldier Thomas Wentworth Higginson was born today in Cambridge, Massachusetts (d.1911). The Higginson clan was quite pedigreed. Thomas was a descendant of a Puritan minister, a member of the Continental Congress, and the founder of the Boston Symphony Orchestra. He was active in the American Abolitionism movement during the 1840s and 1850s, identifying himself with disunion and militant abolitionism. During the Civil War, he served as colonel of the 1st South Carolina Volunteers, the first federally authorized African-American regiment, from 1862-1864. Following the war, Higginson devoted much of the rest of his life to fighting for the rights of freed slaves, women and other disenfranchised peoples.

Higginson has largely been forgotten to history except in the last few years when Brenda Wineapple's book White Heat was published to great accolades. In the book Wineapple posits an intense relationship between Higginson and his penpal, the poet Emily Dickinson. They only met twice but the title of Wineapple's book suggests a more intimate relationship. Interestingly (or not) Wineapple makes no mention in her book of William Hurlbert, the handsome Southern journalist that Higginson was just crazy about. A very telling omission because Higginson's famous "Letter to a Young Contributor" (the Atlantic essay that Dickinson first responded to and started their correspondence) alluded to "Cecil Dreeme," the very queer title character in Theodore Winthrop's 1861 novel by the same name. Dreeme was based on Hurlbert, of whom Higginson once remarked: "I never loved but one male friend with passion—and for him my love had no bounds—all that my natural fastidiousness and cautious reserve kept from others I poured on him; to say that I would have died for him was nothing." Now there's some "White Heat."

In Higginson's book Army Life in a Black Regiment (1870) he exhibits an erotic fascination with black skin and bodies: "I always like to observe [black soldiers] when bathing,—such splendid muscular development, set off by that smooth coating of adipose tissue which makes them, like the South-Sea Islanders, appear even more muscular than they are. Their skins are also of finer grain than those of whites, the surgeons say, and certainly are smoother and far more free from hair."

Whitman scholars like Ken Price have noted that Higginson's later attacks on the gay aspects of Whitman's poetry may have been a case of "pot calling the kettle black" given the "tonalities" in Higginson's writing and relationships.

1899 – Gustaf Gründgens (d.1963), one of Germany's most famous and influential actors of the 20th century, intendant and artistic director of theatres in Berlin, Düsseldorf, and Hamburg. His career continued undisturbed through the years of the Nazi regime, but the extent to which this can be considered as deliberate collaboration with the Nazis was hotly disputed.

Born in Düsseldorf, Gründgens after World War I attended the drama school of the Düsseldorfer Schauspielhaus and started his career at smaller theaters in Halberstadt, Kiel, and Berlin. In 1923 he went to the Kammerspiele in Hamburg, where he also appeared as a director for the first time, co-working with the author Klaus Mann, son of Thomas Mann, and his sister Erika Mann. Gründgens, who meanwhile had changed his first name to "Gustaf", married Erika in 1926. However, they divorced three years later.

In 1928 he moved back to Berlin to join the renowned ensemble of the Deutsches Theater under director Max Reinhardt. Apart from straight theatre, Gründgens also worked with Otto Klemperer at the Kroll Opera, as a Kabarett artist and also as a movie actor, most notably in Fritz Lang's 1931 film M, which decisively added to his popularity. From 1932 he was a member of the Prussian State Theatre ensemble, first scintillating as Mephistopheles.

Gründgens' career proceeded after the Nazi Machtergreifung: in 1934 he became "Intendant" of the Prussian State Theatre; though constant attacks on his homosexual orientation made him ask the Prussian Minister President Hermann Göring for his discharge after the Night of the Long Knives. Göring rejected the request and instead appointed him a member of the Prussian state council to ensure his immunity.. In 1941, Gründgens starred in the propaganda film Ohm Krüger and also in Friedemann Bach, a film he also produced. After Goebbels's total war speech on 18 February 1943, Gründgens volunteered for the Wehrmacht but was again recalled by Göring, who had his name added to the Gottbegnadeten list.

Imprisoned by the Soviet NKVD in 1945, Gründgens was released thanks to the intercession by the Communist actor Ernst Busch, whom Gründgens himself had saved from execution by the Nazis in 1943.

From 1936 till 1946, Gründgens was married to the famous German actress Marianne Hoppe. The wedlock was widely seen as a lavender marriage.

Posthumously, Gründgens was the subject of a novel entitled "Mephisto" by his former brother-in-law Klaus Mann, who had died in 1949. The film version was a huge commercial and critical success winning the Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film in 1981.

1919 – On this date G. Harrold Carswell, Richard Nixon's unsuccessful nominee for the Supreme Court, was born (d.1992). He was rejected for being a mediocre nominee and for his voiced support for racial segregation during an unsuccessful election bid in 1948. He was also against women's rights. In defense against charges that Carswell was "mediocre", U.S. Senator Roman Hruska (Republican, Nebraska) stated: "Even if he were mediocre, there are a lot of mediocre judges and people and lawyers. They are entitled to a little representation, aren't they, and a little chance? We can't have all Brandeises, Frankfurters and Cardozos." Talk about damning with faint praise!

The remark was criticized by many and is believed to have backfired and damaged Carswell's cause. Probably a good thing. It would have been very embarrassing to the Court when, several years later, he was convicted of "unnatural and lascivious advances," the result of propositioning an undercover police officer in a Florida men's room. Carswell subsequently withdrew from public life.

1959 – Norbert Bischoff, born in Meyenburg, Germany, was a German songwriter (d.1993).

Bischoff worked for the Leipzig song group and moved to Berlin in 1976.

From 1983 he performed his own songs. He was one of the first musicians in the GDR to openly address homosexual issues. In 1984 he released the song Truly a Place to be Happy about the dealings in pubs, and the program Sorry, I'm Gay. In late 1984 was hired by the Ministry of State Security, getting the job as a casual employee with with a fake resume. Bischoff quit after a short time.

In 1985, at the GDR Chansontage in Frankfurt on Oder, he received the General Director's Prize at the Committee for Entertainment Art for his program Excuse me, I'm the Gay One and since that year has been working as a freelance singer. Some of his songs were recorded on GDR radio. His song He says he is serious about a GDR neo-Nazi was banned.

In 1986 and 1990 he was a contributor to the Festival of Political Song in Berlin. In September 1989 he was one of the signatories of the resolution by rock musicians and songwriters calling for change in the GDR.

In the early 1990s he appeared with his band as Norbert Bischoff & Gesellschaft (Society). The band included Tina Tandler, Lexa Thomas, Bert Wrede, Norbert Grandl, and Juwe Andrees.

On November 9, 1993, Bischoff took his own life, frustrated by developments in reunified Germany. He left the note: "The right date to disappear for a German."

The CD: "I Don't Want to Wait any Longer - last songs by Norbert Bischoff", was released posthumously in 1994.

1960 – The American artist Jean-Michel Basquiat was born on this date (d.1988). Basquiat was born in Brooklyn, New York, to a Puerto Rican woman and a Creole man. Because of his heritage, and his visits to Puerto Rico, Basquiat was fluent in French, Spanish and English by the age of eleven, and was able to read and write in all three languages. He showed artistic abilities at an early age but struggled in school, finally dropping out of high school.

In 1974, Jean-Michel moved to Puerto Rico with his family, who lived there for two years. It was there he experienced the first of many homosexual encounters; on one occasion he was orally raped by a barber. Upon the family's return to America, Jean-Michel dropped out of school and frequently ran away from home. At the age of 15, he absconded from his father, who caught him having sex with a male cousin and tried to kill him. Basquiat was a bi-sexual. His first sexual encounters were gay, and as a teenager he ofter worked as a gay street hustler, though later in his life he had many famous and infamous relations with women, including Madonna.

In the late 1970s Basquiat began spray-painting graffiti on buildings in Lower Manhattan, working under the pseudonym SAMO. When the Village Voice published an article about the graffiti, the artist ended the project by inscribed "SAMO IS DEAD" on the walls of SoHo buildings in 1979.

He started appearing on live public-access cable show and performing with noise rock bands. Finally in 1980, Basquiat participated in his first major show and received coverage in Artforum magazine, which brought Basquiat to the attention of the art world. This led to his joining a gallery in SoHo and showing regularly and an invitation to meet Andy Warhol who became a collaborator.

By 1985 he was appearing on the cover of The New York Times Magazine in recognition of his success as a leading artist of the period. After Warhol died on February 22, 1987, Basquiat became increasingly isolated, and his heroin addiction and depression became more severe. He died of a heroin overdose in his art studio on August 12, 1988, at the age of 27.

Basquiat's work has undergone major and influential exhibitions at the Whitney Museum of American Art and the Brooklyn Museum. On May 15, 2007 an untitled Basquiat work from 1981 sold at auction in New York for US$14.6 million. In 1996, seven years after his death, a biopic titled Basquiat was released, directed by Julian Schnabel, with actor Jeffrey Wright playing Basquiat. A 2009 documentary film, Jean-Michel Basquiat: The Radiant Child, directed by Tamra Davis, was first screened as part of the 2010 Sundance Film Festival.

2000 – Joshua Bassett is an American actor, singer and songwriter. He is known for his starring role as Ricky Bowen in High School Musical: The Musical: The Series.

Bassett was born and raised in Oceanside, California, and was home-schooled.

His first introduction to musical theater was at age 7, over a decade before he starred as Ricky in High School Musical: The Musical: The Series, when he was in a community theater production of High School Musical as J.V. Jock No. 2. Since then, Bassett has starred in over 30 musical productions.

He moved to Los Angeles when he was 16 years old to start acting, living in his car for some time to get by.

Bassett sings and plays piano, guitar, ukulele, bass, drums, and some saxophone. On May 10, 2021, he came out as a member of the LGBTQ+ community during an interview.

In December 2021, Bassett disclosed that he experienced sexual abuse as a child and teen.

2010 – President Obama signs the repeal of "Don't Ask, Don't Tell."

[nelapanela94]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @yakaaamoz this one is for you!!!

EVERYONE SEND BIRTHDAY WISHES TO MIA!!

WC: 2k

TW: fluff, domestic fluff, post war, a smidge of smut (nothing explicit)

You and Levi celebrating your first Valentine's Day after the war.

Dot, dot.

“Levi, you’re too slow!” you chrip and wedge between him and the railing, making the five-story building rumble with your zing and agitation.

He’s left alone, amid the flight of stairs between the first and second floor, with the lingering clatter of your boots. Grumbling, he rolls the eyes, fixes his hat and hobbles after, his hand tightening around the handle of the walking aid. He meets the startled neighbor from the 201 and nods apologetically. “Sorry, but it’s the last episode.” Levi shrugs.

“It’s ok.” The man chortles. “My mother loves that play too.” A cigarette dangles from his lips. He shoves his hand into his pockets and climbs down the stairs. “Good evening, Mr. Ackerman.”

You stumble into your apartment, scuff off your shoes, tripping and clinging to the wall. A gush of pain blows up in your toe, and you curse at the coffee table for happening to be in the middle of the living room. You don’t have time to cry, anyway; the pendulum keeps swaying; the seconds tick. You plunge on your knees before the intricately carved wooden box, and static crackles as you turn the dial, the tiny red line moving back and forth between the numbers, the scratchy noise vexing and probing your patience.

Finally, the sultry voice that gives life to Werner Fischer hones in the last scene of yesterday’s episode and, splaying a hand on your chest, you heave a sigh of relief. You huddle on the couch and stretch your wool sweater over your knees, expectant. Tonight, Sarah will choose between her fiancé Werner, the wealthy, extremely good-looking and perfect future son-in-law, or Thomas Meyer, her family’s gamekeeper, and the love of her life since they were fifteen.

The notes of the Wedding March purl in, and Sarah’s journey to the altar commences.

“No, Sarah, don’t.” You mumble, clenching the hem of your sweater and biting your lips. Meanwhile, Thomas is waiting at the train station. Steam hoots, people blather, iron wheels hurtle by and screech. A letter rumples in his hand.

The door thuds and the foyer lights flicker to life. Levi takes his time. He hooks the cane on the nail, then shimmies off his trench, his jacket and slips them on the branches of the tree-like hanger. Then his hat and runs his fingers through his hair. His spine cracks as he groans down onto the bench.

Maybe he is getting old.

But aren’t the forties supposed to be the new thirties? That’s what the guy in the hair dye add says.

Deliberately, he takes off his shoes, fishes yours with his toes and pushes both pairs under the seat where they belong.

That goddamn play has become your new vice and sometimes he regrets buying the damn radio for your last birthday. Nah. He loves seeing you smile. He’ll never forget the spark in your eyes when music blared into the house for the first time, and you beckon him to the dance floor even though he was still doomed to the wheelchair. The candid and carefree way you react to the small things in life fascinates him.

He limps to the kitchen, ties the apron on and rummages through the scanty content in the fridge, diving into the drawer of forgotten veggies where your attempts for a healthy lifestyle lie.

The box of chocolate bars rests in plain sight.

He unwraps one, furtive enough to go unnoticed by the acute ears of a telegraphist. Even though you’re too absorbed in the play, he cranes his head over his shoulder, squinting. Nothing. You’re rocking with apprehension, riveted to the radio.

The bomb of textures and flavors explodes in his mouth, the chewiness of the caramel mates immaculately with the crunchiness of the wafer.

The foil falls into the bin, and he wipes his fingers clean.

The heater hums; the windows rattle with the sharp and crispy wind.

Onions, tomatoes, garlic; mouth-watering sizzling. Through the chop chop chop, he strains his ears to catch the final scenes. Though predictable, like your romance novels, he’s engaged in the plot too, listening in secrecy while making dinner. Now Sarah runs across the town in her hefty wedding gown, crossing her fingers for Thomas not to hop in that train. He leans over the countertop, scrapes the cutting board into the pan, his hand threatening to solder to the knife handle.

The trains whistles to depart, and Sarah’s harrowing pleads stop the machine.

You’re clapping and sniffling and wiping your tears; your nails most likely reduced to the roots.

And they lived happy ever after.

“Did you like it, Levi?” You chime from the living room, stoking the coals in the fireplace.

Shit.

 You turn off the radio and pad on your kitty socks to the kitchen, your eyes red and swollen and the hem of your sleeves tinted in a darker shade of taupe. “Next week starts a new one, we should listen together,” you say, flitting like a hummingbird from pantry to pantry to spoil dinner.

“I’m not into that crap.”

You raise a brow, hands hooked at your hips.

“I wasn’t.” he grunts, and your peck on his cheek softens him.

You stride around him, filching a chunk of carrot, sniffing the sauté, and turn toward the fridge, while Levi rakes an excuse in his head he’ll need for when war drops the question mark.

“Levi! That was the last one!” you pout.

But he shrugs and sighs, bullet-resistant to your whining. “You said you wanted to lose some pounds; I was helping.”

“You’re saying I’m fat.” Your jaw drops to the floor.

He opens his mouth to concoct his defense and closes it immediately, sewing his lips into a thin line before he, involuntarily, wreaks havoc in your kitchen. He knows that whatever he says, you’ll twist his words against him, transmute them into a dagger. One doesn’t fight battles that are already lost.

Levi surrenders, turns around, and you trap him in your arms, pressed between your body and the granite edge. No time to hunker down in the trench. You kiss him, slipping your tongue in his mouth, unannounced, cajoling sweet sounds and little grunts, savoring him; his not so shy hands teasing with the hem of your sweater.

You pull apart, holding down his hands, his lips dewy and pink, his eyes glazed with endearment. “You taste good,” you purr against his lips, running your fingers through his hair, some strands dusted with the white of age.

Dot, dash, dot, dot. Dash, dash, dash. Dot, dot, dot, dash. Dot.

In the pot, water burbles to a boil, the ring of blue fire fizzing. You prattle about your day, tangling and combing out his soul with your sweet voice.

☺

He lids the leftovers of the stew, and you help him to the couch. He snuggles in your arms, in his safe place, his ear pressed on your heartbeats. His solace and reassurance. His purpose. His beacon.

You caress his hair, fondly, with the adoration of a devotee raising their palms in hallelujah.

“Levi.” You whisper.

“uh?”

“Do you want to be my Valentine?”

“You’re what?”

“Valentine.”

He raises his head, scanning your face. “What is a Valentine?”

“I’m not so sure.” You tap a finger on your chin, gazing up and blushing. “I heard the girls in the office blathering about chocolates and roses, but I was too embarrassed to ask. It seems they celebrate love, the fourteenth.”

Levi ponders. Now it makes sense why so many lovey-dovey mawkish couples have been swarming the tea shop since the beginning of the month. Does he look that dumb when he’s staring at you?

He jots in his head to have Gabi and Falco garland the shop with red and white.

He smiles. “I’ll be your Valentine. Whatever that means.”

Your eyes glint, and you plant kisses on his head. Rosemary sheds from his hair.

☺

You tear off the 13th from the calendar; but the elation soon dwindles.

The restaurants are bursting at the seams. At Montolivo, the line snakes around the block, and Levi’s gammy leg is giving up. The wind blows slashing your cheeks, and people’s breaths amass in a cloud.

“I’m sorry, Levi.” You mutter halfheartedly and disappointed, “I should’ve made a reservation.”

He winds an arm over your shoulders for support, “and I should’ve brought the damn chair.”

After the war time rolls by leisurely. You take your time, shamble down the street festooned in red hearts, the throngs splitting to give you way. Matching coats and scarves. There’s nothing else to worry about other than what you’re going to eat for lunch.

A little boy, around eight with his hair slick-parted to the side, stops before you and hands you a rose. You know him. Every Friday, he and his mother place a message for his father who works at a mine two hundred miles to the west.

“You’re pretty,” he mumbles. His plump cheeks flush, his hands tethered behind his back. He scuffs a foot on the pavement as you pat his head. “You’re so sweet, Matty. Thank you. Happy Valentine for you too.” You bend and drop a kiss on his head, and all his face heats with red.

“Who is that?” He points at Levi, both glowering at each other.

Her official Valentine. Brat. But Levi bites his tongue before he screws up and ends up sleeping in the couch tonight. Thankfully, Mrs. Russo saves the day. She calls Matty and he waves goodbye to you, before slithering through the crowd.

Jewelry stores gleam; marbled chocolate truffles are dusted with gold. The air is dense with the perfume of roses, and beams of sun pierce the mantle of clouds like search lights.

“Let’s grab a large pepperoni. There’s a Malbec waiting for a special occasion at home.” You come up with a quick plan as your stomach grumbles in reproach.

Why do we wait for special dates to use the good stuff? Life slips through our fingers as we wait for the right moment, and then it is too late.

You eat the cheap greasy pizza on the finest china that had never seen the daylight, sloshing a glass of wine back and forth, laughing between hiccups. The gramophone’s flower spills the chords of Debussy and fills every corner of your home.

Home.

You and him.

You eat in silence, with the notes climbing and swirling down in the comfortable kind of silence lovers share.

“Some fresh moon flesh, my sweet valentine?” He opens his mouth, and you stick a wedge of soft   camembert. The runny interior, smooth and silky against the pleasantly bitter rind. There’s always a wheel around; you just cannot have enough cheese. “Wine burns fat.” You always say and pour to the last drop. Levi’s cheeks flush, his dimple at full display, crow feet wrinkling the corners of his eyes. He’s mellowed with time.

The cardboard box is blotted with cheese, bestrewn with dried oregano and dough crumbs. In the middle you place a can, the expiration date says it’s fine, but the label has been ripped. It could be anything: beans, sweet corn or spaghetti o’s. You cross your fingers for it to be something sweet.

You find out together. With the tip of a knife, you flick the lid open, and Levi smiles. “Peaches?”

“Peaches.”  

You dip two fingers in, tow one slippery half, and nab it, humming with delight, the sugary juice dripping on your hand. Levi laughs, shaking his head and follows you. Sunrise sliding down his throat.

Sweet shops and pastry shops were overflowing with lovers you couldn’t wrest out a slice of pie.

“I’ll do the dishes later,” you say as your pile up the plates in the sink. But you’ll forget and Levi will do the washing up.

You give him a hand and haul him to his feet, then turn around, and he wraps his arms around you, his chest against your back. “Ready?” You clasp your hands on his, holding tight.

“Yes.”

The fireplace crackles, sputtering fire flakes, the flickering glow lapping your naked bodies in bronze. Intertwined like Sinding’s lovers.  He presses down into you, your belly flat on the carpet, your name falling in whispers onto your hair.

Writhing and panting. He kisses the spot under your ear, his fingers stroking the knobs of your spine. The rose feels shy and jealous, and her petals unfurl toward the window.

Dash, dot, dash, dash. Dash, dash, dash. Dot, dot, dash.

He taps a sequence of dots and dashes on your shoulder. And you smile. All week you’ve been encoding, sending, and decoding the same array for strangers. Three words, eight letters. Twelve short beeps, twelve long beeps, strung in a pattern that’s already carved in your head.

“I love you too, Levi,” you breathe, your body quivering with pure bliss.

His hand finds yours, wedding bands glinting, and he gives you a squeeze.

You are his safe place, his quiet corner, his sweet surrender. You two are the best love story. Better than any cheesy radio play.

And he mutters, “I want to be your valentine forever.”

Tag list: @stygianoir @lamees004 @lovolee3 @notgoodforlife

If you want to be part of the tag list, fill out this form.

[kpop-fanatic-lover16]

Missed Midnight - Yang Jungwon

Pairing: Enhypen Jungwon x fem!reader

Genre: angst, sadness, a little bit of fluff near the end, not proof read

Warnings: mentions of being forgotten and mistreated, lots of crying, heartbreak

Word count: 1.4k

♡

Tonight, was the night. The night of Christmas Eve. About an hour was left on the clock of this night before the hour hand passed the number twelve and took you into Christmas morning. Everything was silent and peaceful, but you were alone. Normally you'd be sitting on your couch watching a movie with your favorite hot drink, right next to the Christmas tree, cuddled up against his body. Waiting for Christmas with him. Yang Jungwon, your soulmate. But this year was different.

You sighed deeply after looking at the clock once more. Things changed, and you had to be open to that. Despite all your traditions being out of order or some of them being forgotten, he was still with you, just not as often as you liked. 

Selfishly inside your heart, you wished he'd never taken the job he was working, his career. You selfishly wanted him all to yourself and not have to share him during this season. Maybe since it was the holiday, he would get to come home early and spend this moment with you. But you highly doubted it. After years of healing from being forgotten and left behind moments like these were the hardest to overcome. One thing you didn't doubt was his dedication to you and the love he held for you, but that didn't mean the moments alone didn't cast some doubt or loneliness. 

The time ticked on and just like you expected, the hour struck and passed into the next day without him by your side. The clock did that once more while you waited for him, and almost into the second hour before you decided to go to bed. He promised to be home for Christmas day, so you would look forward to seeing him in the morning. 

But he wasn't next to you when you got up early to make breakfast. He wasn't in the house either. With sadden tears streaming down your face as you made breakfast, you wondered if he was okay. You wondered why he hadn't contacted you to let you know where he was or if he was okay. Once the food was done, you plated it and when to grab some extra toppings for the pantry. 

By the time you'd finished eating, it was nearly eight o'clock.  

Meanwhile, Jungwon was coming down the hall to your shared apartment, knowing he had missed everything. HIs heart was heavy with worry and uncertainty, while his head filled with scenario after scenario of what might happen when he got inside. 

Once inside, Jungwon took off his things, his eyes scanning the house in a hurry to find you. He craned his neck to look in the other parts of the house he couldn't see from where he was standing. After he finished taking off all of his outside wear, he made his way to the kitchen. He smelled food cooking. His body relaxed in relief at the sight of you. He felt better knowing you were still here, but that feeling disappeared when he looked into your eyes. He could tell you'd been crying. 

Jungwon heaved a sigh at the sight feeling the guilt choke him strongly. He said nothing, coming over to you and wrapping his arms around your figure tightly. He kissed your neck deeply, holding you against him. Fresh tears slipped out over your lashes as soon as you felt him against you. No matter how hard you tried to stay strong and not cry again, him being here reminded you of your feelings last night and this morning. 

"Jungwon, it's okay," you told him, returning his embrace lightly. Jungwon had no words. Not even a sorry would be enough for him to say for you to forgive him. 

Jungwon pulled back and cradled your face in his hands as his eyes searched yours, trying to understand what you were feeling and how he could fix it. But you wouldn't look at him, making him desperately try to get you to look. If you did look at him, you would lose it right there. The cotton fur of his sweater was all you were focused on to try and calm your potential breakdown.

Jungwon's arms were wrapped all the way around your waist, pulling you flat against his chest, moving his face closer to his; nearly five inches. Now that you were ringing your hands lightly together as they rested against his chest, having nowhere else to be considering the hold he had on you, he knew you wouldn't break Jungwon knew this coping mechanism well. The grip on your waist loosened as he brought his thumb up to wipe your fallen tears.

"Please, look at me," he begged, index finger resting under your chin to try and lift your face up. Embarrassment made you turn slightly to the left to break his intention. Jungwon's heart dropped further, matching yours as more tears slipped down your cheeks making his pulse and heart ache with pain. "I'm so sorry baby."

Then, you looked up at him. Your soft beautiful eyes wet with tears, clumping your lashes together in the most beautiful way possible. Your nose was slightly red, and streams of tears glistened under the light. Even in your most vulnerable state, Jungwon thought you shined. His heart ached again. 

"Baby," Jungwon sighed once he saw more tears. "Let me make it up to you."

"Just hold me," you whispered, tucking your head into the curve of his neck. And hold you he did. HIs grip changed from around your waist to your upper back and shoulder blades. As he held you there in the kitchen so early in the morning, he repeatedly pressed long kisses to your forehead and crown to show his affection for you. You completely understood that he had no control over when he would be home or what his schedule would be like. You understood it all. But for some reason the tears just kept flowing.

"Not even a call, Jungwon," you sniffed, not understanding why he chose not to let you know he wouldn't be home. "You could've been injured or dead and I would never know."

"I'm so sorry," Jungwon begged, wiping the tears away for the millionth time. "Please stop crying. My heart hurts so much."

"Good," you said with a soft sob escaping your lips. "It should hurt, just like mine."

Jungwon smiled at your small jab at him. Now that you were throwing around slight humor, he could tell you were going to be okay. He would spend the rest of the day making up his absence even if it killed him. By the time he was done, you'd be begging for him to leave you alone. 

Needing to blow your nose, you pulled away from him and went to grab a tissue from the box on the counter. Once you were done you looked over at him. He offered you a small smile which you couldn't help but return tiredly. The next thing you felt was the softness of his lips lightly pecking yours. Then a kiss to your forehead before he was whisking you away down the hall and into your unmade bed. Without a word he settled under the covers pulling you along side him and turned on the tv.

"You are not allowed to get up," Jungwon commanded. "If you need anything, tell me."

All you could do was smile. You were in for a day of pampering. 

"I really needed this," Jungwon sighed, once you and him were under the covers, holding each other tightly. He leaned over and planted a kiss to the side of your head. You closed your eyes at the feeling and let him rub the side of your arm gently. "I needed you."

"I needed you too." 

"Do you need to sleep?" you asked him, remembering how long of a night he had. 

"No," he mumbled into your ear. "I slept for a little bit at the building."

"Thank you, Jungwon."

"For what?"

"For loving me, unendingly."

He felt you squeeze his arms underneath yours tightly. His heart leaped with joy and began to beat a little bit faster. Deep down he still felt guilty for not coming home to you last night, but this would help heal his guilt and heal your pain. Relationships were hard and wouldn't be rainbows and sunshine always. Miscommunication would happen, selfishness would occur, and misunderstandings were bound to come to play. What mattered was the trust, loyalty, and forgiveness. Those would keep your relationship going. The two of you would learn and grow as time dragged on.

"Always and forever. I love you so much," Jungwon said, making your heart melt. "Merry Christmas my love."

[lydias--stiles]

#47 for the kiss prompts :)

47. A kiss paired with a tight hug, knocking the breath out of the person being hugged.

(all human, long distance au)

Luke's bravado would be the death of him. That his relationship was stronger than anything in the world, that thousand miles apart didn't change their dynamic, that their love was the exception, all stemmed from his unfailing confidence.

And it was true: he loved Julie to the moon and beyond and couldn't imagine a life without her, couldn't fathom a future that didn't include her. But fuck, it was hard. It was really, really hard.

Julie currently studied on the East Coast, at Berklee College of Music in Boston. Luke, meanwhile, stayed in L.A. to foster the band. Three thousand miles. Their busy schedules forced them to FaceTime at odd hours and texts often didn't go further than good morning and good night. Every day, he missed her and it ached his chest when he thought about her too long.

Despite all that, Luke was proud of her. Berklee had been her dream and she was living it out, fully and without guilt. She was training among the greatest singers in the country, finetuning her voice in pop, rock and jazz. Once in a while, she sent the boys a clip of her singing and playing piano, and it was out of this world. She had the voice of a freaking angel.

Maybe the hardest part of being together while apart, was watching her grow separately from him. Silly things, like getting a haircut or a new dress. Figuring out she liked a certain drink or dish. Exploring a different part of the city. Making a friend.

(And he knew what people at Berklee thought about their relationship. Julie told him. They thought it was crazy to stay with a high school sweetheart, or that he had to be cheating, or that she was missing out, that they were holding each other back. It almost led to a break-up a couple months back when insecurities rose and bubbled over the surface. Luke and Julie had to make an effort every single day to tune the noise out; to only focus on each other.)

The only time they saw each other was during breaks. Like now. It was the start of summer break and the couple would have a full two months together before she started her Senior Year at Berklee.

Luke paced along the arrival hall, periodically checking the time on his phone. Julie had landed about now. A small bouquet of wildflowers and dahlias laid ready in the backseat of his car, alongside a bunch of other gifts he bought for her in the last few months. Little trinkets that made him think of her.

Adrenaline surged in his body. He couldn't contain it, rocking back and forth on his heels and craning his neck as though she'd suddenly appear in the crowd.

It was silly, because they were twenty-one and twenty-two and barely adults, but Luke has lately been thinking about marrying her. Long distance did make the heart grow fonder. He loved her. And he's loved her since they were fifteen and sixteen years old. Something insane had to happen for their devotion to defer.

The doors of the arrival halls slid open and a stream of people poured out. Luke's heart skipped a beat. Holy shit. It was happening. He had no clue if these were the people from her flight, but they looked like Bostonians to him. The myriad of Red Sox hats were a clue.

(Julie had one, too. Betrayal to The Dodgers!)

Moments passed. No sight of Julie. More people popping out the doors and rushing to loved ones to hug them, or waving at taxi drivers with their names written on a card. Nerves rose up his spine. Had she missed her flight? Did he get the time wrong? Was she arriving tomorrow?

Just as disappointment sunk, a head of long, dark curls appeared around the corner. Brown skin, sunshiny eyes, a damned Red Sox hat, purple jogger set and chunky sneakers. Julie Molina through and through. His love.

"Jules!" he yelled.

Her scanning eyes found him and a brilliant smile exploded on her features. A sense of home wrapped around him before she even touched him, and it once again affirmed that no distance could ruin them.

Julie sprinted towards him and Luke spread his arms, a laugh bubbling out. The closer she got, the quicker tears began to well in his eyes. Nothing beat seeing a person in real life. Pixels didn't match up to the real thing.

Jumping into his arms, Julie knocked the breath out of him. A gust of air left him in surprise at the impact, but circled his arms around her in a snap. With her face burrowed in his neck, he heard her inhale and press a kiss on his neck.

Luke chuckled, watery, and kissed whatever skin his lips found. Home. She was home.

"I missed you so much," she whispered, pulling back to face him. Her hand caressed his cheek and kissed him on the mouth.

Luke sighed and tilted his face to deepen the kiss. Fuck, he missed this. Her legs slid down and set her feet on the floor. Their kiss didn't interrupt though, their fingers clinging, keeping each other close.

A blissful smile bloomed on his cheeks when they parted. "How was your flight?"

"Good. I was thinking about you."

"I was thinking about you, too."

Julie noted the moisture in his eyes and frowned, reaching up to wipe at the gentle skin. "You'd think we'd stop missing each other so much."

He grabbed her hand. "We won't miss each other for the entire summer."

"That's true," she replied, happy, and allowed him to lead her out of the airport, her luggage and bag in the other hand. "And after my senior year, we'll never have to miss each other again."

He raised a brow, trying not to appear like marriage bells were ringing in his head. "Never?"

Julie nodded and squeezed his hand. "Never."

send me a kiss prompt for juke

[adelindschade]

A Thousand Touches (A Thousand Cuts, Part 28) *PURE SMUT*

No introduction needed - just overdue Nessian “bonding”. 

She’d be the death of him. Nesta would kill him – and he’d beg her for it, too.

He knew he neglected her in the last hour. The sighs turned into chuffs from the kitchen where she was hands deep in flour, concocting her latest bout of teeth rot, while he canvased one file after another – some relating to filling new positions, others reporting deviant behavior, and he was just done altogether sorting through work while Nesta was within the same roof wearing that damned slip.

Cookies. The wench was craving cookies and crawled out of bed, abandoned her book, and began to make a mess of the kitchen to supply her need. That silky number he was sure was meant to coax his fingers between her legs in the latter hours of the night was now ruined with every possible powder she conjured from the cabinets.

“If I knew for a fucking fact that I haven’t touched you in that way, I would have sworn you were with child with all your crazy cravings,” he growled louder than he thought. It was too late to bake but then again, he found she didn’t like sleeping alone, and so, by that logic, his work kept them both up. Guilt gnawed at him. He snapped when he didn’t need to.

Soft padded feet crossed the threshold quickly and he stiffened, wondering if he struck the wrong spot, and ignited her temper in the worst way.

A curtain of golden-brown tresses spilled into his vision, and a nose graze his cheek.  He breath lodged in his throat, anticipating her to retaliate.

“I bet you’d like that,” she mused in a husky rasp. Her breath tickled his stubble-rich cheek. His eyes shifted slightly to his peripheral, locking with her icy blues. Her creamy bare shoulders were the first thing that captured his attention, and he trailed down the shiny straps guiding to the deep dip of her top – a shimmering blue as the nighttime sky.

His eyes froze on the crevice between her breasts. The magnificent things were pushed together by her forearms as she entangled her fingers under her and allowed her elbows to rest on the couch’s back. She was leaning forward, and he wonder how they didn’t spill from her gown.

She tilted her head and a grin played on her lips. He’d sooner deal with her anger than that – knowing she’d make him suffer for whatever mischief she intended to play on his psyche.

“I bet you would have me no other way,” she nuzzled deeper into his neck. He craned slightly away, trying his damnedest not to feed into temptation. He had delayed his work enough. She would not distract him. He put off sleep long enough.  

Her grazed down the column of his throat. That uptick of her lips let him know she, too, noticed the bob of his Adam’s apple.  She pressed her lips to the hollow point, lingering for a second, waiting for a reaction. When his control didn’t slip, she pulled away.

“Maybe I would,” he hoarsely choked. “You’d be exhausted and dead asleep. I’d be able to do my work without disruption.”

“No, not because of that,” she teased, leaning even further over the edge. “I think,” she whispered in a rasp that sent his blood rushing. “I think you would like me round with child because the scent of sex isn’t enough. You need everyone to see I will always carry a part of you, to know I will always love you, and our children would be irrefutable proof the lengths of the bond we have. There would be no way to deny it. A mating bond is one thing but for me to carry your child would seal it. We’re forever bound, and my loyalty would unquestioned. I would be yours – and we would be tied until death itself pries us apart.”

He closed his eyes and compelled himself to ignore it. He begged his mind to not play into her words. His hand fisted in his lap.

“Don’t tempt me,” he growled.

He promised himself he’d respect her wish to reserve the final bout of intimacy until their mating ceremony. In the meanwhile, they’d familiarize themselves with each other’s anatomy, but the sweet bliss of conjoining would be held off until the ribbon was tied, and vows were shared. However long it took. He’d have her willing and ready to completely renounce any other male from the running. Her hand would his and only his.

In that moment, as she murmured those damning words into his ears, every vile thought of hauling her over the couch and taking her from behind until she begged for absolution had swarmed him. His mouth contorted into a snarl, baring teeth as she prodded his deep seeded urges. His eyes squeezed and he turned his head, avoiding her prying eyes. His short, chuffed breathing gave him away, nonetheless.

He felt her leave his side but as his eyes opened, protesting her absence, he found her in front of him, and his entire lungs fell short of air as he took her in. The slip fell to her knees, but she hiked up the hems temptingly high as she clambered onto the couch one knee as a time – pinning him between her thighs that seemed so small, so pale, and so easily bruised compared to his girthier, darker ones primed with muscle.

She settled on his lap, boring her eyes into his as her arms encircled around his neck.

His knuckles nudged her thighs unintentionally, trying to pull out from under them. His hands desperately wanted to settle on places he knew he shouldn’t, fighting instinct with every fiber of his being. Her thighs were so agonizing close, her hips perfectly rounded, and her ass fitting perfectly in his hands – but none of that would help his cause to remain uncompromised.

Cassian plunged his fists into the side of them, embedded into the cloth of the couch.

His thoughts ran back to the night before when he had her in a similar position, riding his fingers with encouragement as she chased her climax, digging her nails into his back and biting his shoulder to smother the primal sounds his fingers summoned. Her hips rolled over his cock, aggravatedly covered with fabric, but no less digging into her sex as she came with a shout and a curse.

He wondered if she intended to finish what she started, as he also recalled her fascination with his cock when he pulled it out to finish himself – unable to will the pressure away after she rolled off to compose herself. She didn’t shy away from his forwardness. She had propped herself on her elbows and watched intently, holding her own breath as he pumped vigorously. Her hand wavered and he paused, hopeful she’d take over, but she redacted her arm and snugged her hand under her half-turned torso, allowing him to resume where he left off, a bit more despondent that she wasn’t brave enough to get a proper feel of him.

Maybe tonight was the night she would. Of all times, of course when he needed to focus on work, she’d find the courage to take what was hers.

She quirked her head and challenge lit in her eyes. She wanted to break his discipline and he knew he’d have a battle ahead of him.

“Witch,” he cursed.

“Bat,” she playfully taunted. She nipped at his vein, and he had to resist the small of her hair when it tickled his face.

“You’re covered in flour,” he growled.

She perked a brow – and then that damned smirk that had him gulping. He stopped her hand before she could peel the slip off, halting it as she managed to hike it over her hips and show a teasing glimpse of her belly.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” he snarled.

“You’re on edge,” she mused. “I can help.”

“I won’t be able to stop myself,” he admitted, leaning back to put distance.

“I believe you can,” she confidently endorsed, closing the gap, and pressing her chest to his. Her lips ghosted over his. “Take a break,” she bid in the same rasp as before. “I beg of you.”

“Nes,” he warned, leaning into her embrace. He couldn’t resist her kiss, trying to be chaste when he realized his control slipped, but she insisted for seconds, holding him hostage as she nestled closer, rendering him under her wicked spell.  

“I want you,” she remarked huskily. He groaned in pain. “This can wait. Come to bed or… if you insist on staying up, I know better ways to keep awake…”

Her hips grinded over his. Nesta was a menacing Vixen.

“You’re insatiable,” he condemned, stilling his legs the best he could to keep from bucking.

“You work hard, and I’ve been away all day, and we don’t get enough time together,” she admitted longingly, resting her head on his shoulder. “Can you please come back to bed? I can save the dough for later…”

“I need to finish this,” he replied remorsefully, dragging his knuckles down her back. He kissed her temple but when he thought about gently urging her off, he found his hands did the opposite, and rested on her hips like he originally intended.

“Kiss me,” she begged in a whisper. She sounded so fragile and vulnerable. He felt terrible for making her so. “Please.”

His face contorted in pain, and he leaned into her, nudging noses. Her hand combed into his hair, curling around his neck to do so, while the other coiled around his upper arm on the other side to stabilize her as they leaned lopsided. Her fingers couldn’t make it halfway, so small compared to his. Everything about her was small when his size dwarfed everything else in the room.

“Five minutes,” he compromised, unable to refuse her much longer, “then you need to go to bed without me.”

There would be many nights she was required to do so. He hated how circumstances have changed. Years ago, he’d beg for this very moment, and he still did, but his attention was demanded elsewhere, and hated how Nesta was the one suffering for it. He wished he could spoil her with every whim and want. He was grateful for her willingness to have him. Cassian despised himself for being unable to reciprocate.  

She nodded and then latched her mouth to his, forsaking all manners as her tongue drove into his first. His fingers dug into her backside as they toppled to the side. He flattened himself over her, searching for her knees as his hands hooked under them and drew them up. Her ankles rested over the small of his back.

His lips were bruising with his kisses, depriving her of air until she broke for a moment in a gasp, and then returned his affection with matching vigor.

“Touch me,” she begged. Her hand searched for his, guiding it between them.

“Five minutes,” he reminded sternly, already hiking up her slip to feel the wetness between her legs. She had been waiting for him quite some time.  

“I want to touch you, too,” she insisted.

He paused, shocked by the statement, and she made her point by palming his hard-on.

“I wasn’t sure last night but I wanted to try tonight. You were busy and I was impatient,” she whined.

“Nesta,” he growled.

“I’m not a virgin. I know what I’m doing,” she hissed.

“Five minutes,” he barked quieter but no less harshly.

“I can make you come in less,” she bit back, reaching up with her head to nip at his pulse. “We can come together.”

He was trembling and she was confident. He wasn’t sure what to make of it, but he couldn’t deny the excitement he felt, not when she could feel it, too.

“No, not here,” he decided, pulling off. She made a sound of protest, coming to a sitting position as he hoisted himself off the couch. “When I fuck your mouth, it’ll be in our bed.”

“Who said anything about my mouth?” she narrowed her eyes. Her fingers went to the drawstrings of his pants. “You either come in my hand or you can come in your own. That’s the deal.”

He could say no deal, send her to bed, and focus on his work. It’d be practical. He could also let Nesta have her way and push their progress along by another milestone. Nothing thrilled him more than Nesta exploring their bond, and the more comfortable she got with his body and sharing affection.

Nesta waited for his answer.

He undid his ties himself, springing free, and allowing her to re-evaluate her preparedness. She gasped like she did the night before, taken aback by his size – mirroring everything else about him – and assessing the girth with her own hand, unable to wrap fully around it. He jolted at the touch, embarrassed he was so sensitive.

“You can wait another night, or you can fulfil your promise. If you can’t, I’ll make sure there is hell to pay for putting off my work,” he threatened. He didn’t mean it. Not really.

“I want you to touch me, when I touch you,” she commanded.

He was at loss for words.

She roughly pulled him down back on the couch by the wrists and reclaimed his lap. His cock rested on her thigh, already finding itself home, and longing to slip itself in her sacred warmth. Her hand cupped him at the base while the other guided his hand between her legs. She felt her own pool of wetness and coated her fingers, and then settled those at his tip.

He nearly shouted, laboring for air as his entire stomach constricted, jolting at the pleasure she aroused.

“Do you want to look at my breasts or touch them?” she demanded.

He couldn’t speak, mouth slack. She tugged and rubbed, twisting her fingers, and lubricating his cock thoroughly. She was merciless and he couldn’t compose a single sentence in his head. He only remembered to pump his fingers when she began to use both hands to pump his member with the same vigor she did when kissing him senseless.

He wanted her writhing. He wanted to watch. He couldn’t do both while properly tending to the beauties that reside on her chest. He fell to the side, and then shifted on his back. She toppled with him, and he set her flat on top of him, his chest lining with her spine as he arched himself just enough against the couch’s arm to watch without too much strain or craning.

His arm hooked around her hip, and then resumed his fastidious pace, while her hand had tried to find purchase – and then regained her original purpose by encircling his cock (though her fingers couldn’t fully encompass his circumference.)

Upon her suggestion, another giant hand came up to palm her breast, pleased to find it as plump as he always envisioned. He’d never tire from playing with them, able to fill his hand with one, and squeezing with just enough strength to warrant a jerk. A pinch to her nipple garnered a mew.

He had undone her straps with no notice or patience. The slip pooled around her waist, breasts pouring out and bouncing with each jolt. He hiked up her hems, too, to expose her glistening sex, and watch as two of his fingers ravaged her. He plunged in deep. With time limited, he opted for rough, and felt slightly apologetically for not building up to it. She arched and moaned with his ministrations, biting back her bottom lip in vain. Her hips rolled accordingly, meeting each thrust eagerly.

She tried to meet his pace, pumping him until he’d be obsolete and mere putty in her hands.

“If – if – if you come first,” she tried to speak, though his fingers sabotaged her capacity to talk uninterrupted. Her legs twitched, as did his cock as she rolled her thumb over his pre-cum, and one smooth porcelain leg kicked aimlessly as her nerves worked up tension in her taunt belly. “You come– damnit,” she shouted, arching high. ‘

The resounding moan she tried to suppress behind seal lips was a melody in his ear.

“Easy, sweetheart,” he huskily awarded, focused on the sound rather than her vigorous movement. “Remember, we’re on a time limit.”

“Mm-hmm,” she nodded absentmindedly, squeezing her eyes shut and her lip captive in her teeth as she wound herself down. “If – if you come first, you – you come to bed… oh my Gods,” she writhed under his hand. Legs closed around his hand in a snap, and she tried to coil inwards, but his hand palming her breast kept her pinned flat to his chest.

“I doubt that will be the case,” he grinned, nipping at her ear. “If you come first, which you will,” he retorted, “you will go to bed, and wait for punishment.”

“I won’t c- oh my Gods – ah,” she strained, contorting to the side, and then thrashing to the other as his fingers wound her up tight. She panted and threw her head back. Her feet hiked up in the air, legs trembling violently as the suspension built. “Bastard!” she whined in the highest pitch.

“What a funny way of showing your gratitude,” he preened, licking at her throat, and promptly sucking on her pulse. He adored seeing her so ruffled, a vivid change from the composed society lady who crafted her face into the perfect mask.

He changed his tempo, rubbing in circles until he had her quivering – meeting his eyes and seeing for himself how dilated they’d become. He’d center her as the rest of her body shook and tremored, unable to stay still as waves of pleasure ran their courses.

“I have five hundred years on you, sweetheart,” he remark smoothly, kissing soundly. She was entranced only for a moment but mewed in protest as his hand departed from her heat.

“No,” she whimpered. “I wasn’t – why – I didn’t say stop.”

“I’m just helping you, Nes. Hold on for a second,” he said in a low gruff. His fingers were drenched, glistening with proof of her arousal, and he used those to help coat his cock, and guide her hand back to his member – lathering it together, and setting a steady pace. “Just like that. Okay? That’s perfect,” he eased gutturally, returning his attention to her lips as she nodded eagerly.

She was an astute student, adopting the tempo he set, and squeezing where she knew he’d be most reciprocal. His body would freeze and then shiver as she eased lower, and lower, until nimble fingers caught his base, and rolled her wrists to evoke her desired reaction.

“Like that?” she whispered when he allowed her a moment to part from his mouth to catch air.

“Just like that. Yes, perfect,” he struggled to keep his breathing even. His nodding was more like rapid jerks, trying his damnedest to stay focused on her eyes. Hers fluttered and she hitched her own breath, shuddering for a moment.  

Her entire face captivated him: from the cloudy grey color, the blown pupils, her plump lips, and the rosiness of her cheeks sprinkled with sun-kissed freckles no one really noticed before because rarely ever did anyone have an opportunity to be so up close.

His hand travelled down the length of her body, leaving a trail of proof between the valley of her breasts, onto her stomach, and into the swell of heat he coveted. She moaned loudly and apologetically as he dipped his two appendages back in, curling and pumping to catch up with her progress. She rolled her hips like a siren, matching him stroke for stroke.

She coaxed a shudder out of him as she drew out two, long tugs, and his hips jerked upwards to buck in her hand. Cassian felt her smile, proud of herself for managing to conjure his primal need and continued the gesture to trigger another spurt.

“I’m catch – catching up,” she stuttered, tremoring herself.

“Not – fast – enough,” he growled.

“Faster?” she toyed, hastening her hand.

“No, no,” he shook his head as if his life depended on it. “Stay – stay like that. You’re doing – amazing.” He couldn’t talk coherently, not when she played him like a puppet. He swallowed her next words, pushing her head into the back cushion from the overpowering need to kiss her.

It was wild and unruly, and nothing like a lady ought to be treated, but her lips were talking, and he felt compelled to make better use of them. If she could make sense of words, he wasn’t doing his part the way she desired him to. He needed to render her speechless. He could dispel much more pleasurable noises from her throat – and he would.

His fingers were relentless, as were hers, but he had a head start, and he knew she was on the cusp of release as she mewed and whimpered in a climbing pitch. Her legs couldn’t keep still, and while he bucked into her expert hands, she was unravelling in his.

“Come, sweetheart. It’s okay,” he assured, grinning victoriously. She shook her head and tried to even the score, but she was drenched while he was still ascending to the same blissful point she had already reached. “Don’t wait for me.”

“No,” she whined, so small and almost inaudible. She tried to make up for in time, strengthening her grip, and while it jolted him out of rhythm, thrusting wildly to match her speed, she still teetered on the edge. He was driven to push her over.

“You need to come for me, sweetheart,” he poised, pumping his fingers quicker, and making a point to curl them as he elicited the most delightful sound from her. It was short, shaky, and high but all the proof he needed she was losing restraint.

He bucked relentlessly into her hand, but her expression told him everything he needed to know, motivating him to press deeper, and hasten his pace. No words were needed. Between the grunts and the sharp hiss of exhales between them, chests heaving together in tandem, one would have to give.

A haziness overcame her, followed by that tell-tale arch. No sound emitted, just a half-cut squeak, as everything in her body snapped and stiffened except from her trembling leg. She rasp a half-breath, the rest lodged in her belly. A waterfall of hair spilled back over his shoulder and arms, and he nestled his face into the nook of her neck as she quivered in spurts, making that delicious noise he adored so much.

Between a whimper and a whine, trembling in octave, and ascending higher.

“That’s it, sweetheart. That’s it. I got you,” he purred, his tempo unchanged.

Two final jerks – one he felt from her knee, and the other in her shoulder as she eventually collapsed at his side, laboring in breath as she came back slowly to a conscious plane.

“Let me help you with the rest,” he assured, aiding her hand to lead him along. Full blown eyes met his and he met her with a lazy grin, kissing her temple, her brow, her nose, and then a lingering kiss to her lips. “You did a great job. You took me so well.” He praised, nestling onto her shoulder, and breathing in her scent as their conjoined hands pushed him to a blinding point. “That’s it, sweetheart – just like that,” he managed to say before a guttural sound interrupted his speech.

Her finger hovered at his tip while he pumped at the base, and when he spilled, her fingers glistened with his seed. She wiped it over her stomach, though some remained still.  

He rolled over her, holding her close, and taking in her scent. It was intoxicating. His member throbbed still, despite its spilling, and rested between them – poking at her leg.

“Can you still come to bed?” she murmured, kissing his chest. Hands snuck under his shirt and settled at the small of his back, temptingly close to where his wings sprouted. He wouldn’t survive if she accidentally grazed one. He needed more time to recover. “Please?”

It took Cassian a minute to collect his breath and he pressed a kiss to her crown of hair.

“I have to work, but by the time you finish cleaning up yourself and the kitchen, maybe,” he half-promised, willing to agree to anything at this point. She had undone him, and she was too exhausted from her own climax to yet feel pleased about her victory.

Cassian lied but he didn’t intent to.

“I’m sorry, Nes.” He apologized profusely. Both had changed clothes. She wore a large shirt – one of his – and he forewent his pants and opted just for a different pair of briefs. “I’ll be in bed shortly. Just go on without me.”

She pouted and he hated how he disappointed her, leaving her alone. If only she knew how desperately he wanted to join her and to make most of their time. She nodded understandingly, bidding few words as she went ahead to the hall where their bedroom door was ajar. He made a noise of protest, hoping to part on a better note, and resigned himself with a nagging feeling he failed her.

He heard some shuffling and assumed she climbed into bed, but the light remained on, which was surprising because she liked to sleep without interference. He stayed tuned to the door where she emerged again, hands full. He watched without words, unable to produce any, as she returned to the couch with a pillow and the duvet – giant compared to her feeble frame – and made herself a nest at his side.

A pillow perched on his thigh, where she rested her head, and she cocooned herself in the duvet. She had to curl up as her feet hung over the arm’s ledge.

“Fine,” she grumbled in a gravelly voice. She nuzzled closer and his hand jetted out to smooth her tresses. A lazy smile happened to make its way upon his face without him realizing so. “You better carry me to bed when you’re done,” she demanded, cozying closer.  

“Promise,” he assured, petting her hair absentmindedly.

It was only when slumber took over and he reminisced over her peaceful features despite telling himself to focus on the files did he utter the words he was too afraid to say to her face. I love you.

[axl-ul]

Writer Q&A Tag Game

Thank so much for the tag @mthollowell-writes (the og post here) and @dyrewrites (the og post here)!This was so sweet of you^^

And if you have time, please, read their posts, they're so beautiful and motivational.

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

What motivates you to write?

Pretty much that I get to share a piece of myself. I'm not sure how to put it...but when I write I can sometimes feel my body relaxing and that I get to create something, anything from all the chaos that's sometimes in my head.

2. A line/short snippet of your writing that you are most proud/happy of. If not maybe share a line of someone else's work you love (just please credit them)

It's a snippet from The Lakebed, an episode from Ulfrika's youth while she was still under the care of Master Kogar.

“Yes, Majstre. Hm…Majstre? Did you truly want to shoot me down?“ He paused, “Never, my disciple.“ He patted the young head before diving into a quick lesson about proper fishing methods and life in lakes. In the meanwhile, the sun started to come out. Unable to resist the sunlight for long without the proper clothing and skin treatment the master and his disciple decided to come back. For the last time, the Man with No Eyes looked behind where the ice was cut out. He found the right successor. Even though she’s not the typical demon nor that it’ll be an easy path. But he sensed the potential. And she deserved to get the second chance. With unusual happiness settling down and unaware of the doom he brought upon himself on that fateful day he returned home with Ulfrika.

3. Which OC makes you smile every time you think/talk about them and what are they like?

This might be a pretty easy answer - Princess Mei from The Flight of the Western Crane. She starts out as a shy young woman who's prone to fear and crying and she gets overwhelmed pretty easily. The more the story progresses, though, she gets more self-confident and comes out of her shell to reveal what she really is like - joyous, a slight jokester with heart of gold and even a bit of a fighter (until then she was like this only around her advisor and best/only friend Lady Wolf Witch a.k.a. Márgerdra). Mei's like... such a breath of a fresh air because I don't remember writing a character like her before. Oh, did I mention she likes hugs, too? Well, if not, then be prepared for her to hug your soul out of you. Then she'll pull you away to the nearest shop because t r i n k e t s.

4. What process of writing do you enjoy the most?

Hopefully, you won't get mad at me but the outline and coming up with the plot ideas and characters. The very begining when it's up to you how the heart and soul of your story shall look like.

5. What part of writing do you think you are the best at? (Yes stroke your own ego it's okay)

I dare to say I'm pretty good at descriptions of the nature. As in the rich vocabularly and how I play around the words. I like coming up with metaphors and poetic prose sort of grew on me over the years.

6. What is something in the writeblr community is most enjoyable?

People around are truly trying to help each other. I'm still lacking quite a lot of contact but it's mostly due to me not being good with starting a conversation. But whenever I talk to is truly nice, sweet and polite which is admirable.

7. A writing tool/device you use that helps you with writing? (It could be speech to text, a writing program etc)

I'm going to be the basic bitch and say Google Docs and partialy Microsoft Word which I'll probably use sooner or later since Google Docs have problems with big files and there's also been the debate about the AI. Apart from these I also use Thessaurus a.k.a. Word Hippo and an unnamed internet dictionary. This is due to the fact that English is my 3rd language and I write my current projects in it. In other words, I sometimes can't exactly remember the word I actually want to use. So I either go and translate it for myself or I use the word hippo to find a synonym I know but I just couldn't think of in that moment.

8. A piece of worldbuilding that you like in your own story? (It could be the magic system, a particular place in the story, a law etc)

I came t like the Blackworld itself. In short, it's a non-physical place filled with eldritch horros that can manifest in the real world and from time to time some cultures came to worship these beings as their saints, gods or patrons mostly because of the slow corruption of their minds and souls. It's not only the concept of a place that's not real but also there's so many mysteries about the Blackworld - is it just a place that's a sphere for all those entities to linger? Or is it actually an organism of its own that's capable of giving birth without being exactly alive (at least in our way of understanding)? Why does it shape according to the subconscience of those who enter it? How does it know when somebody alive enters it? Just so many questions and so little answers and those answer then spark another ten new questions.

9. What piece of advice would you say to encourage others to write if they are having a rough patch?

I know this might go against the general rules but it's worked for me many times. Whenever I struggle to write I find myself a playlist, listen to it and while listening I'm re-reading my past chapters and re-editing some little details. When I can read a chapter after a chapter it's easier for me pick up on the more consistent vibe and feel of the story. And if this doesn't help either, I just take out another wip and focus on that other story.

10. Tag some people whose works you love/have been your biggest supporters

I've already mentioned the duo who tagged me so here's the follow-up: @arijensineink @minutiaewriter @rbbess110 @rubywrite @jgmartin @faelanvance @angie-j-kay (I know you can't respond right now but I wanted to mention you since you've been such a great support, thank you^^) @anthros-vanitas-archive @your-absent-father @sam-glade