#only this was ever bringing me any positive emotions while I’ve never had it in life

[rwrbmovie]

BTS of #RWRBMovie: 'z' in your last name

TZP via HOLA:

Clifton Collins Jr., who plays my father in the film, was amazing. I knew of him. I’d seen his projects, but we’d never crossed paths before. And then we met and we just got along, thick as thieves. And he’s like an OG Mexican from Los Angeles which was so colorful. He made it feel like there was family on set. Same with Matthew being Puerto Rican. Their influences help you get into that vibe, and then you do the scene and it’s wonderful. You really bring that accuracy to it.

There’s a line in the film when Alex and Henry are in Paris, and Henry asks him a question about his mom’s campaign, and Alex starts telling him about his father and his abuela coming to the States. The line is something like “If you’re an immigrant in America and you have a ‘Z’ in your last name, there’s a lot of people in positions of power that don’t look and sound like you. I’ve been given the opportunity to be someone in the world that my father didn’t see when he was growing up.” As someone with two ‘Zs’ in his last name (laughs), that was a tough scene for me because I had to be there as Alex and not as Taylor. It was very emotional to think of my family and what they went through to come to the United States. Even though they came here a long time ago, you still think about all of the people that are coming to America today and about all of their stories. Alex realizes that his father didn’t have any role models growing up and now he’s a congressman. That fuels his fire to be the change. That was so exciting for me.

From NYT:

For both Zakhar Perez and the director, the character Alex’s biracial identity was particularly meaningful. López grew up in Panama City, Fla., with his Puerto Rican father and Polish Russian mother, while Zakhar Perez is of Mexican, Middle Eastern and Mediterranean descent and was raised in northwest Indiana, where he said there was only one other Mexican family. “Matthew and I talked a lot about the mestizo journey,” Zakhar Perez said in a video call before SAG-AFTRA, the actor’s union, went on strike. “Being part Mexican, part lots of other things, I don’t want to say you’re forgotten, but in today’s world, it’s like, you’re either this or you’re that. There’s nothing in between. I’m kind of a cultural chameleon.” “As a young Latiné queer man, I never read something that centered someone like Alex,” López said, echoing his star. “If I had been presented with this character when I was in my late teens, early 20s, it may have changed how I thought about myself.”

From Windy City Times:

Was the part about having a Z in your last name personal or the book? ML: It was personal. That was about me and Taylor. It came from a conversation that Taylor and I had when making the film.

From Metro Weekly:

Alex has a line about grow ing up in Texas as a kid with a last name that ends with Z, which is I guess something else you can relate to, Florida style. ML: And Taylor Zakhar Perez also. Taylor and I talked about that scene a lot as being something that we both understood. My aunt Priscilla Lopez is a beloved, beloved stage actor. She was in the original cast of A Chorus Line. And there's a story that she tells about Mandy Gonzalez, who was in In the Heights with her, and Mandy once told Priscilla that Priscilla made it okay for her to be someone with a Z in her last name. And that was a thing that Taylor and I spent a lot of time discussing as well. It was important to me that that scene be in the movie. There was never a chance in hell that that scene was ever getting cut.

From Teen Vogue:

TV: One of my favorite parts is when they’re in Paris, and Alex talks about being a young person of color coming up from Texas and not seeing anybody who looked like himself or his dad in politics, and Henry’s response to that simply being: “I’m learning.” I don’t know if you were in the theater for that one, but half the crowd was like, awwwww. ML: Yeah, I was for that. TV: I’m married to a white man, and I was like, that is the perfect thing a white man can say in that situation. ML: I’m married to a white man, too. Speaking as someone who is a person of color married to a white man: that’s like the ultimate thing you ever want your white boyfriend or husband or partner to say. That’s it. “I’m learning.”

ML via THR:

There’s a scene in the movie that is very much me, which I gave Taylor after they’ve had sex for the first time. They’re there in pillow talk mode, and he tells Henry about what it’s like to be the son of an immigrant with a Z in your last name. It was really important to me to talk about growing up with a Z in your last name and even just how our names are pronounced, the spellings of our names sometimes if you have Latin ancestry. To have to answer for your name has always been something for me that I struggled with until I stopped struggling with it. So, I needed to put that into Alex’s story and when it came time to shoot that scene again, it was something I didn’t have to explain to Taylor Zakhar Perez. He got it instantly. The only thing that I did screw him up with is like, “We’re going to do this [scene] as a oner, and we’re going to do it as a top shot that starts in a wide shot and comes all the way down to your face, and we’re not going to leave this scene until you get it right in one.”

[fan-goddess]

The decay of marital flesh

Authors Note: This has taken months to complete, and I am so happy that people have taken time to ask me about this and have wanted to have a part two of my original oneshot that I didn’t know would get so popular. So here’s the depressive thing that took me months to compete cause I needed to be in an angsty mood to write. Here’s my blood and angst

Summary: A part two of this piece here. This is the depressing version of it and the other happy part will be linked to this part here.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of miscarriage, mentions of p in v sex, mentions of f oral, self harm, blood, kinslaying, cheating on partner (I’ve probably no doubt missed warnings so if you see any you think I should add then let me know!)

Taglist: @ietss, @papichulo120627, @rorawinters, @introverbatim, @alicentswife, @brie-annwyl, @victoriagaunt, @kyla44, @pax-2735, @omgbcat @bellameshipper, @coolsiaisaqueenstuff, @snh96, @devils-blackrose, @blue-serendipity, @dahlias-and-marigolds, @glame, @jennifer0305, @humanpurposes, @valeskafics, @aemondwhoresworld @leiakim99

Whenever you slept, somehow the weight of the letter always found a way to haunt you. Whenever your hand managed to sweep under and made direct contact with the paper, it practically burned to the touch with no explanation how.

Klarissa had soon became one of your trusted, friends? She would come into your chambers to place your food in the morn and look at you intently and with questions she herself knew would remain unanswered. You never spoke to her again of the contents of the original letter, nor did she ever thankfully attempt to ever bring it up. It was thing about her you found yourself grateful for.

Though it seemed Klarissas silence on the topic may soon be broken. As recently, more letters, similar to the original, were beginning to make themselves known to you.

Though this time, you cannot bring yourself to read them. You can only stare at them while they burn into nothing in your fireplace. You can only watch as whatever words and meaning they once possessed become ash and soot. Maybe they were letters asking for forgiveness? Or asking for a conference where he begged for you to not spill his blood just as you instructed him that you would? Either way, you held firm belief that nothing of that sort would be happening.

Not while Aemond continued to breathe, and to live.

Aemond does not believe that you are reading any of his letters any more. The maid who had given to you his first letter, whose eyes once held fear of his position, now hold only sympathy and sadness. She doesn’t need to say what he had been fearing. It’s written plain and clearly all over her face.

Still, he can’t help but wish to cry at the realisation, even though he knew it would happen some time or later. An act he does not even think he’s done since he was robbed of his eye. Yet his sudden loss of you, the one person who he should have protected and been with, brings to him more emotion throughout his entire body than he’s felt in his entire life. Even when his sorrow begins to spread through out him, throughout his soul, the tears do not fall. He cannot dare let them. He cannot appear weak in front of the court. He cannot dare appear to be weak in front of you.

His chambers seem all too empty when he enters them. The bed appears stiff and uninviting. The books appear meaningless and empty. Even the fire seems too cold. Even when he begins edging closer and closer to the flames until he’s practically face to face with them.

“Aemond, what are you doing?!” His mothers frantic voice breaks him from his trance before he could fully put his arm in the fire. Only hearing the sudden frantic sound of his mother’s voice does he begin feeling the heat of the flames against his skin. It’s an addictive feeling, as for the first time in months he feels alive. It feels like your fiery touch is caressing him again.

“It does not matter mother… why are you here?” Aemond curtly says, begrudgingly stepping away from the flames to look at her with a soulless eye.

“Aemond, my son, I’m afraid that the court are beginning to talk. They question your marriage, they question your-“

“I do not care about what the people question mother!” Aemond shouts. Raw emotion and anger overflowing from his skin in waves as he stalks to his mother and grips her arms roughly in emphasis of his frustration. He can feel his unkempt nails digging into her arms, and he can even see the slight fear that slowly envelopes her. Yet still, he does not relent on his hold of her, even when she tries to escape from him. “The people do not know how it is I have suffered! How much my wife has suffered! I will not have those insufferable cunts dictating things about my own marriage!”

His nails unknowingly leave small dents in his mother’s arms. His nails which have grown long from neglect begin to draw into her skin so deeply that even with the clothing between the two, he nearly manages draws blood. It’s not even until she begins to wince and voice her pain does Aemond notice what he’s doing to her. What he’s doing to his own mother.

“M-mother I-“

“Save it Aemond. I know you are mourning in your own way. I know that your wife is mourning. She is mourning my son because it was you who betrayed the scared vows the two of you spoke together, and insisted that you drew blood for. It is well within her right to burst down these doors and draw that same blood from you with her own blade. I will not let you drag that girl down with you my son, just because you wish to cling to a long rotted away life that you yourself threw away, all for a fucking bastard wet nurse belonging to house strong!”

Aemond does not move when his mother shouts as him. He does not even blink when his mother’s passionate anger leaves small spit trails on his face. For everything she just said is true. It was him who broke the scared marital bond between him and you. For that, he should suffer no less than a thousand cuts.

Aemonds single eye goes back to the fire where he had sat earlier, and goes to sit there once more. Once again, he does not truly feel the heat it should be providing him. He adds a couple loose logs in the fire, prodding them around slightly with an iron poker.

Aemond drops it though when a log jolts suddenly and startles him, and hisses when the red hot poker makes contact with his upper thigh, burning him. Though he cannot deny the slight satisfaction it brings him to feel the pain flare through his clothes. So he strips himself till he is only in his underclothes, and he does it again, and again. Hissing under his breath each time it makes contact with the pale skin. Maybe this is how he will get closer to you? How he will successfully manage to feel the pain that you felt when you had to push the physical manifestation of his betrayal curse you? He knows it is unlike anything he could ever truly experience, but he has to try. For you, and for the baby he will never meet.

When you begin burning the next letter in the fire, adjusting it slightly with the poker hanging on the side of the fireplace, you can hear an unknown person entering the room with an audible creak coming from the direction of the door. Klarissa had slyly mentioned a few days previous how it was like that due to your infrequent comings and goings. If you didn’t know her name and respect her slightly, you probably would’ve had her relocated immediately for such cheek.

“I think my brother takes great time and thought into writing those letters princess.” A distinctive voice and nickname causes a rare smile to form, still looking at the fire before you.

“Good. Then maybe he’ll learn to be sorry and he’ll learn what my pain was like.” Your voice is surprisingly cold, even with such a warm smile on your lips. It even surprises yourself slightly.

“Well, as much as I do appreciate your determination for damning my brother, I don’t think he’ll share that same sentiment. Do you even read them? Or do you just immediately condemn them to ash? Because I’d hate to think some poor soul like my mother writes a letter to you only to have it thrown to the flames…”

“I’m not that overcome with anger, my prince. I do look at the handwriting of the letters before I, as you so plainly put it, condemn them to ash.” It’s almost annoying how easy it is for Aegon to make you smile. He’s become the light to shine you through your dark ages. A friend amongst the snakes and the thorns that weave and poison the court, looking only in ways to further their power.

“How many times have I told you sweet princess to call me Aegon? I think after everything we’ve done and been through together, we’d have been properly acquainted with each others company. As much as my little brother utterly detests the very idea of it.” Aegon now sits beside you at the fire, his everything already making your tensed frame ease into a more calm and relaxed one. He does not make any move to stop you from making sure the letter is properly burned into nothingness. An act you appreciate immensely.

“My brother, was a fool to believe he needed someone else to comfort him...”

The quick comment is also quickly followed by a deathly sort of silence in the room. The only thing being able to penetrate it being the comforting sound of the crackling flames.

Though not a few minutes after, from the corner of your eye, you can spot Aegons hand slowly and cautiously placing itself on your arm, drawing your attention to him as you cautiously drop the poker and turn to him. His face looks like the one of a deer when it’s caught in a trap, fear and panic. Though by the way he had approached you, it was as if he was trying to approach an unpredictable creature from the forest. A beast.

“Can I be so bold princess, as to say something to you?” His voice is practically one of a whisper. So meek that you didn’t know if you had heard him correctly the first time.

“Of course Aegon? You are my closest confidant.” Your words though, supposed to be ones of comfort, makes Aegons lips turn in a slight grimace. Yet still, he wets his lips before speaking.

“You… are everything any man I think could ever need in a wide. Which is why i am so disappointed in him. Why take that bastard into his bed, when he could have had you…” Aegon then cautiously leads his head forward and captures your open mouth with his own.

You cannot move. You cannot think. You cannot say anything to stop what is going on in that moment. There is only one thing that races specifically through your head however. One question that stands out from the rest.

Do you even want Aegon, your husbands brother, to stop?

In your confusion, you find yourself unable to move a muscle. Only it seems Aegon mistakes your lack of action and your confusion as a direct answer. Since his once shy hands move with a surprising confidence from your arm, to delicately cupping at your cheek and your head.

You cannot deny that the kiss did not leave a warm feeling erupting in your chest, and a fluttering sensation to churn in your heart. Yet there is one other thing you can think off while this is happening. You can only ponder on how strange it truly feels to kiss another man other than your husband. How strange it is to betray your marriage like he had done.

When Aegon finally breaks away from you, you can see that his eyes have grown dark with presumably desire. Yet unlike other men, he makes no move to direct you to the nearest bed like you would expect him to do. Instead, it looks as if his eyes have softened as they look into your own. A strange kind of peace drifting over him that you’d never really seen on him, nor even on another person before.

“Why did you do that…” You mutter, watching the way the flames make his skin look almost golden in the light.

His eyes though still hold that same strange look of softness, and his hand begin to stroke at your cheek with a strange type of fondness.

“Because I’ve been wanting to do it for quite some time now.”

It’s so simple. Spoken so calmly with a careless shrug, that it’s almost as if it was the easiest thing Aegons ever said in his life, and yet it causes an immediate feeling of panic and terror to erupt deep within your chest.

Your head moves your body in such a hurry that you had almost toppled over, if Aegon had not clutched at you so quickly to keep you steady. Yet at the feeling of his practically burning hands on your bare skin you push away from him.

Your head races with the discovery of Aegons… desires? Feelings even? Whatever they are, they’re something you never would’ve known about if not for Aemonds betrayal to his vows.

You know you should be angry at Aegon for what he has done. Angry at yourself even for not immediately pushing him off of you, a still married woman. And yet, when he kissed you, you felt more alive and happy then you’ve felt since Aemonds betrayal.

Even as you pace the room, Aegons keen eyes watch you with concern and slight anticipation at your next move. Like a dog always waiting for it’s masters command. He doesn’t move from the spot he originally sat in, only turning on his and trailing after your pacing with his eyes.

“I don’t know if I could ever love you-“

“You do not have to love me!” At the confession, Aegon is suddenly standing before you, your hands clasped tightly in his. Almost too tightly. As if he was grasping a delicate object he was too afraid would collapse and smash into a thousand pieces. The issue with that concern though, is that you’ve already been broken into thousands of tiny pieces and put back together again. In the end, there’s nothing left for him to break that’s not already been broken before. “All you need to do, my sweet princess, is let me in…”

This time, you do not break away so suddenly from Aegon when he kisses you again. Instead, you tightly grip at his warm fire like flesh in your fingers, and allow for his body to envelope you in senses you thought would never be awoken again.

That night, you felt the crash of everything you have ever been feeling, and everyone that’s made you feel that pain hit you all at once. That night, the hurting finally stopped for a time, and was replaced with only pleasure.

Aemond feels tired, exhausted, and drained, all in one. The words that he attempts to write to you blur all into one as his head swims with an ache that he has no idea whether is due to his deformity or due to his lack of sleep and self care. Either way, it’s in the way, and if Aemond could, he would rip it from his head so he could be done with it all.

He’s seen glimpses and heard plenty of tales of Aegon coming and going from your chambers. Seemingly, a strange bond has formed between the two of you, as before his time at Harrenhal, you’d never spoken to him. Yet now, he hears whispers of his brother leaving your presence and your chambers nearly every day.

Now he not only is jealous of his brothers soon to be crown. Now, he must bear witness and be forced to sit and wallow in his jealousy of Aegons access to your touch and your voice. Of Aegons access to his wife.

The letter in front of him, his unknown number attempt at reconciliation, is half written. The quill in his hand half poised to write as it drips dark raven ink onto the page and bleeds onto the dark oak desk.

Maybe he should write it with his own blood? Slice his palm and let it drip into a cup, before dipping his quill into it and writing his heartbreak with it. If he shows you how much he’s willing to bleed for you, maybe you’ll finally be willing to read his words and allow him to see you again…

There’s now a cramp in his hand from where he’s paused himself, and yet he strangely relishes in the onslaught of dull pain being given to him by his hand and head.

Maybe it’s a sign from the gods that he should stop himself? For he betrayed both the maiden and the mother when he laid with that fucking witch from Harrenhal, and it feels as if he should be praying nightly to the father for him to be brought to justice for you.

However now, with the considerable amount of time that he is being forced to spend away from you and your arms, he feels as though he should pray to the Stranger, late at night, when the moon is high and full. He should pray to him to slice his head from his shoulders and place him away from his misery forever more.

Though with his Targaryen heritage, there is no doubt that they have been waiting for an opportunity like this to pluck him and his family from their very roots for their many sins…

It has been a few months since you, ‘let Aegon in’, as he’d so put it. Though if you were to be honest with yourself, you’ve never felt as calm of character, as you were when you were with Aegon.

Still, you must admit, that whenever his head of short and unkempt silver hair is laid in your lap, facing away from you, your mind begins to wander of other things. You end up always thinking of his hair being twice as long, and his body being twice as lean.

You concluded that the gods must be punishing you for your sins. For practically abandoning your husband for a man of his own blood and partaking in pleasures of the flesh with him. But if this was how the gods had decided to punish you, how were they punishing Aemond…

“It is alright my love, we do not need to do it again until you are willing.” Aegon had said whilst stroking the bare skin of your arm with a distinguishable fondness.

You hadn’t the strength to tell him that the reason why you could not bring yourself to lay with him again is because the memory of Aemond still lives on in you forever. The ones that used to make you smile in fondness, but now make you wish to tear out his other eye with your bare hands and have his blood drip from your fingernails.

Aemonds memory that constantly lies within you is now a plague. A plague of constant mourning and sadness. A plague that is never ending and never relenting.

The memory of him still lives on months later, where for the first time ever, you leave your room dressed properly and looking like a true lady of the court. Aegon stands by your side in what you believe in his eyes is for your protection. But why would you need protection when your heart has been broken and stitched back together carelessly two times already?

Though as Aegons tries to murmur what your sure is meant to be encouraging murmurs of affection in your ear, your ears prick up to the sound of a familiar sound of footsteps, and you look up and connect eyes with your husband.

Your feet stop where they stand, and Aegons hands clench firmly against your own as he continues murmuring some kind of unknown gibberish in your ear. But you ignore him and look only at your husband. Who in turn, stares only at Aegons hands that are intwined in your own. You can see even from where you are standing, the way his brows furrow in annoyance at the sight, and somehow, you can feel your heart break for the third time in your lifetime as Aemond swiftly walks away without sparing you another glance.

You’re here. You’re walking close as can be with his brother and you’re standing in front of him looking at him with shocked doe like eyes.

The anger that blooms in his chest is nothing like the anger he felt when he killed Luke. It’s nothing similar to the anger he felt when he faced the injustice of his father when he was robbed of his eye. This is a new type of anger. It’s an obsession. A new type of injustice that only the feeling of blood on his skin could possibly have the power to diminish. But not your blood. Never your blood. No. Aemond craves Aegons blood on his blade.

He doesn’t even realise that he walked away from you until he looks around and realises he’s in his chambers, and his eye stares at the half written letter that still pathetically lays on his desk. An old pot of ink and a ruffled quill still waiting for him to pick up again.

His rage that still boils like a dragons fire within him feels no bounds as he tempts himself into ripping the letter. Into grabbing his dagger tucked away in his belt and stalking his way through the passages to Aegons chambers, where he’d wait till the sun goes down to strike him when he least expects it, and grin as Aegons chokes on his blood with fear and betrayal in his eyes. Watching with glee as Aegon dies for his crime. Trying to take what rightfully belongs to him.

But then, Aemond properly begins to think. You seemed to be close to be brother, if the closeness Aegon held you and the way he so closely whispered into your ears meant anything. If he killed his brother, it would only mean that he killed another one of the people you cared about. And Aemond refused to give you another reason for you to be scornful of him.

Aemond gives in though and rips the letter on the desk, and with a huff begins a new one. His anger and his frustration clear in his writing and with how many times the quill almost goes through the page with how fiercely and carelessly he uses it. He imagines your happiness though as he writes. The way you used to smile at him with such unique brightness. The way your cheeks would flush a beautiful light pink when he teased you. He even dared to think and reminisce on the way your face would shift into one of pure pleasure when he’d sit before the heaven that lay between your thighs, and lick and suck till he felt you spill no less than three times on his tongue.

The last thought soured though as he imaged Aegon seeing you like that. Seeing your smile, your happiness, your pleasure. The grip on his quill so strong he felt it snap between his fingers. A sharp shard of it bringing a small drop of blood to drop and pool on the page bellow. Yet Aemond didn’t choose to begin a new letter clear of his blood. He allowed it to stay there and continue with the same paper, so he could show his devotion to you. So he could show his willingness to bleed for you. Show how much he values his vow to shed as much blood as he needed to in order to achieve your forgiveness. It was truly an addictive thought, seeing you again. And one he could never stop running through his head when he thought of the future.

Aemond finished the letter, writing on the paper front and back with no less than three separate pages before he deemed his rant to be over. Blood pooling on various areas on all of them. His fingers now cramping around the new quill that he’d grabbed with each flex of his hand, and the ache that has sadly dulled around the cut to Aemonds relief remains pungent. If he could, he would pray to all Seven Gods for the wound to never heal. So you could see his devotion to you. To witness the death of his sanity in front of your very eyes.

There are no guards outside the front of your chambers. A fact Aemond cannot help but be disgusted by when he sees it as he walks to the familiar doors. Later that night he’ll find those two men tasked with the purpose of keeping you safe, and he’ll make sure to strip them of whatever dignity and honour they believed to possess. Perhaps the comfort of the wall would suit them nicely? Or the kiss of his blade?

Aemond raises his fist to knock at the door, but voices keep him from doing so. Specific voices. Yours and Aegons voices…

Before he knows it, Aemond is pushing himself against the wood as much as he can so he can hear every beautiful syllable of your voice. He does not care at first for the meanings behind them, but he certainly begins to when he realises what he is listening too are some very familiar high pitched sounds. Breathless sounds that Aemond had told you on yours and his wedding night that only he would hear.

While Aemond waits outside your door, he can hear your voices of pleasure radiating from the other side.

His fists are clenched no more to knock, but instead in anger. And the dulled throb of the small cut earlier on his hand flares up again as it reopened from his carelessness. Yet instead of moving to stem the blood, Aemond grows an idea deep from within him. Aemond snatches his dagger from his belt, and with no hesitation, quickly slices a deep mark on his inner palm.

His posture and frame is deathly still while the blood begins to heavily pool and drip onto the ground, only moving to place his hand firmly against the wooden door, watching it drip down the dark wood and trail to the stone flooring.

He can see the large puddle flow under your door, and Aemond wishes nothing more at that moment for you to see it. To see him. To see his devotion. His love. His sacrifice for you. If he hadn’t already lost it, Aemond would’ve torn out his eye and shoved it under the door too as a gift for you to make you stop your torturing of his soul.

Aemond only steps away when the blood pool reaches his shoes, and even then it’s with great resistance from himself as he stuffs the still bleeding wound against his dark coat that already begins to rapidly absorb the blood. He can even feel it soak his undershirt and his skin.

He goes straight to his chambers that night instead of paying a visit to the maesters. He does the same the next night, and the one after that.

Instead, Aemond relishes in the look he receives from Aegon the next morning. The look of utter horror and fear that speaks at least over a thousand words. The look that tells him you now finally know of his gift and his devotion to you. The look that tells him he is one step closer to you again.

Aemond Targaryen refuses to rest until he is drained entirely of his blood and it is pooled directly at your feet. He refuses to rest until his heart is laid bare in his hands and is presented to you like a septa presents the gods with their offerings. Until his name can be uttered from your precious lips without your own heart breaking from sorrow.

Aemond Targaryens heart could break a thousand times over, each time bloodier than the next, but he refuses to allow yours to break again. Not by his hand at least…

[gvcci-bxby]

the arrangement (mini series) - chapter 4: reconciliation

pairing: neteyam sully x omaticaya reader

word count: 3.7k

warnings: SMUT! (p in v), light cursing, fluff, probs misspellings (ill revise later, im tired ya'll lol)

other installments: part 1 | part 2 | part 3

author's note: I just wanted to thank everyone for the reblogs, likes, and overall engagement with my first series. I apologize for the long wait for the final installment but I hope you all enjoyed it. It's definitely a basic ending but enemies deserve happy endings too. Much gratitude.

taglist: @bakugouswaif @erenjaegerwifee @rav3nh3aven @aysha4life @marriedtolike18fictionalmen

“Y/n wait,” Neteyam says, firmly grabbing your arm. 

“For what? So, I can watch another girl climb all over you?”

Neteyam sighs sharply, putting both his hands on your shoulders. “Stop, and just listen. What you just saw was nothing, she approached me while I was waiting for you.” 

You roll your eyes, “What do you want Neteyam? You’re the one that asked me to meet you.” 

“Yes, I did because I wanted to explain what happened last week. What Korra said about Nalu and I isn’t true. In fact, every rumor you’ve heard about me, and another girl isn’t true at all. I haven’t been with anyone, ever.” Neteyam could help but divert his eyes, embarrassed by admitting his lack of experience. 

You open your mouth to respond but couldn’t find words to say. You had been wrong all along, not allowing Neteyam to bring clarity to the situation. You felt guilty and foolish, thinking about how you could’ve moved passed the situation and spent the last several days being excited and discussing your ceremony. 

“I’ve been waiting for you, and I wish you would have allowed me to explain it all. Korra has always made it clear she likes me, but I only think and care about you.” 

“So, you waited? To mate with me?” You ask, making your jealousy of imagining him with other girls known. 

Neteyam nods, bringing you close. “You’ll be my first and my last.” 

You shake your head, looking down at the ground. “I’m so sorry I didn’t listen to you, Neteyam. This whole time we could have-. “ Neteyam interrupts you, shushing you. He brushes your freshly braided hair to the side, brushing his fingertips across your cheek.  “It’s okay,” Neteyam’s voice coming out as a whisper. 

Your arms wrap around Neteyam’s torso, bringing your fronts closer. You feel relief, knowing Korra only targeted you to make Neteyam her own, that there is no truth to what she, Nalu, or any of the other Na’vi girls have said. 

You feel a course of excitement surge through your body, the close proximity being close to Neteyam again thrilling you. You let the emotions get the best of you and you crashed your lips into Neteyam’s. His response was quick, picking you up swiftly. You wrap your legs around him, pushing your mouth into his, his tongue maneuvers its way into your mouth.

You both stand in the village, and it was totally possible that others could see you and Neteyam. Neteyam walks you into the edge of the forest that was only a few yards away. 

Your lips move with Neteyam’s in synch, urges you had never felt before gathering in your stomach and between your thighs. Neteyam was in between earth and heaven, the feeling of you against him exhilarating him. Your legs part, allowing him to Neteyam to rest and stay close to you, gave him unholy ideas. Your hips buck up, meeting Neteyam’s, and you feel his bulge growing by the second. Your skin tingles, satisfied by Neteyam’s reaction to your touch, your body. 

You were so deeply lost in Neteyam to noticed people approaching the edge of the forest where you and Neteyam made out. 

“Lo’ak, do you think it’s a smart idea for Neteyam and y/n to be seen making out, in the forest, before their ceremony tomorrow?” Kiri says, standing off to the side with her arms crossed. 

You gasp, surprised by your friend spotting you. Lo’ak shakes his head, “Bro, I never want to see you in this position ever again.” 

Kiri wrinkles her nose, “Neither do I. Come on, y/n, you need to get rest before tomorrow. Neteyam, you need to pull yourself together before you go home, mom and dad are waiting for you.” 

You stand up robotically, thoroughly embarrassed. Kiri and Lo’ak walk ahead of you, allowing one last moment of privacy before tomorrow. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Neteyam whispers, planting a kiss on your cheek. 

You smile, squeezing his hand that was placed in yours. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Get some rest.” 

As you walk home, Kiri escorts you home. Lo’ak parting to walk home with Neteyam. “I see you two have made up.” 

You laugh, nodding. “We did indeed, it was just a giant misunderstanding. But I’m so nervous for tomorrow.” 

Kiri squeezes your shoulder, “As you should be. It’s the biggest day of your life. You’re getting mated for life and being announced as the future leader of the clan.” 

You sigh, approaching you home. “Thanks for the reminder.” 

Kiri laughs now, “I’m just saying y/n, it’s okay to be nervous. But don’t worry, it’s all going to be perfect. I’ll be there, your parents will be there. We’re all here to show our love and support for you and Neteyam.” 

You pause at the bottom of your steps that lead to your home. You turn to your friend, opening your arms to hug her. Kiri accepts your embrace, offering you encouragement. “I’m excited to have you become a part of my family, sister.” 

You smile, stepping back. “I am most honored to become part of your family, Kiri.” Kiri ushers you inside where you find your mother whirling around your living room. Kiri stands behind you taking in the sight as well. 

Your mother holds your ceremony attire, the pearls, and bright stones drip down from the dress, and the outfit glitters in the light. “There you are, y/n.” Your mother exclaims. “Get in here, we have finishing touches to do.” 

Behind you, Kiri touches your shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Kiri says with a small smile. She slinks off into the dark, most likely heading towards her own house. 

Your mother lightly grasps your forearm, having you stand in front of her. “How are you feeling about tomorrow?” 

You shrug, heat starting to crawl up your neck. You know she’s referring to what’s will happen after the ceremony. “Mom,” you say, averting your gaze from hers. “We don’t have to have that talk.” 

Your mother raises her eyebrows, lifting her arms up in defense. “If you say so, I was just going to offer you an answer to any of your questions.” 

You shake your head at the thought but before you could respond, your mother changes the topic. 

“Now,” she says, stepping back to look at you. “Let’s do some finishing touches.” 

For the next hour your mom primps you. To distract you, you imagine what tomorrow will be like. When Neytiri had come over, your mother and she had discussed the itinerary for the day of the ceremony so you had a good idea of how it would all play out. 

First, the ceremony will occur, Jake, Neytiri, your mother, your father, and Moat will stand on the alter with you and Neteyam, requesting your vow to promise to protect and lead the Omatikaya people. Then there will be a clan meal except you and Neteyam will break away for your own personal ceremony. That part brings chills up your arms and spine. 

Finally, your mom taps your shoulder, your eyes flickering open. “You keep dozing off, you can go to bed now. Just make sure to put your hair up so you don’t mess it up while you sleep.” You nod, groggy with sleep. Before you got far away, your mom wrapped you in a hug. “If you’re nervous, don’t be.” She kisses the top of your head and then gives you a soft nudge into your room. 

--- --- --- 

Before you can even comprehend, you’re in your ceremony dress; Neytiri and your mother pulling your hair into a style, your dress being tapered to your torso as you stand back in the living room. Your stomach is in a knot, knowing that a grand ceremony and big responsibilities await outside. You bite your lip thinking about it. 

“You look beautiful,” Neytiri says, standing in front of you. Her big, gold-flecked eyes observe your face, taking in your emotions. “You’re nervous. Don’t be, we’ll all be up there with you.” 

You hum softly, slightly comforted with that fact. It’s not just you on the stage, yours and Neteyam’s family will stand on the platform with you. “I know, but still,” You say. Neytiri shakes her head, waving her hand. 

Behind her, your mom tugs at her dress and you can’t help but smile at her excitement. While her pressure on you has been annoying when you were growing up, you, too, would most likely react the same way if you were in her position. 

Your living room door opens a crack and Jake sticks his head in. “Ready ladies?” Jake says, eyeing you. “Y/n, you look great.” You smile in response, bowing your head towards Jake. 

Neytiri and your mom stand beside you, their arms looping into yours. “Are you ready?” your mom whispers to you. You look down at the floor, taking in what’s about to happen. You think about how you and Neteyam’s relationship has evolved over the past few weeks. It gives you hope for the future and what awaits for both of you. 

Jake disappears behind the door and it’s you, your mom, and your soon-to-be mother-in-law alone. Together, you all venture out the door and towards the center of the village. Every step you take feels like you’re floating, and you feel confidence and excitement growing within you. 

After a short walk, you approach your ceremony, the clan looking back to see you. Ahead, your father, Jake, Neteyam and Moat stand. Even from far away you can see Neteyam’s smiling at you. Neteyam’s breath is almost taken completely away, his mind in awe of how beautiful you look. 

Neytiri and your mother hold you at your arms, and you’re thankful for that. You feel your knees get weak approaching the platform, but the mothers are there to support you the entire way. Neteyam looks beautiful as he stands in Omatikaya traditional clothing. 

You take the steps to the platform one-by-one, and you are now in front of the whole clan, your friends, your future family, your enemies, and Neteyam. You face Neteyam, taking his hands that are outstretched to you. 

The ceremony begins. 

The ceremony lasts close to an hour, prayer and song laced within the statements made by your family and Neteyam’s. Each family member must make commitments to support you and Neteyam’s time in leadership. Finally, the attention turns towards you and Neteyam. 

“Neteyam and Y/n,” Jake says to you and his son. “Do you promise to work together, physically and in spirit, to protect the Omatikaya people and their land.” 

You nod, looking from Jake to the clan that is splayed out in front of you. All the faces you recognize, and you feel complete honor to lead such a peaceful yet fierce clan. You are flashed back to when you were just a young na’vi, dangling on some of their hands and legs, and now you stand in front of them as their future leader. “Yes, I do.” Neteyam follows too, knowing he would do anything for the clan he loves. 

Jake smiles looking at you and Neteyam. Despite your previous rivalry, Jake knew that you would come around to each other and would protect the clan until you passed the torch to your own children. Neytiri, too, gazed at her son and you in amazement, hoping you can lead the clan in peace and never deal with the tragedies her parents and now her and Jake have endured.  

“I’m pleased to make it official that Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk’itan and y/n as the future leaders of the Omatikaya clan and Neytiri and I’s replacement if anything should happen to us. I believe, wholeheartedly, that they will lead the clan with love and commitment, under Eywa, until the pass.” Jake says, and immediately the clan begins to cheer.  

Your parents rejoice as well, providing happy smiles towards you and your new mate. Neteyam pulls you close to him, his face hidden from the audience by your long braids. He plants a kiss on the nape of your neck, his scent filling your nose. Your knees get weak again, the thought of what’s to come making your stomach twist with anticipation. But first is the clan meal. 

You are seated, next to Neteyam, at the head of the table. Your parents sit on your side of the table, Jake and Neytiri on Neteyam’s side. The table is long, making a place for every clan member. An incredible amount of food is place on the length of the table, ensuring that everyone’s stomach will be filled. You make a note in your head to thank the na’vi that spent so much time preparing the food. 

Food is place in front of you, but you can’t get yourself to eat; you’re too nervous. Neteyam can tell, and he places a hand on your inner thigh, out of sight of anyone’s gaze. Neteyam leans closer to you, offering a comforting presence. “Can you believe it?” Neteyam whispers 

You shake your head, leaning towards Neteyam. “I can’t; we’ve known about this day since we could talk yet it seems to have happened so fast.” Neteyam smiles at you, brush your braids behind your shoulder. “You look beautiful.” He says, his eyes gazing down your body. You blush under his gaze. 

You pick on your food, trying to intake some food, but you feel too nervous to even function. Clan members whisk by, congratulating you and your mate. You try to be present, thanking them for their kind compliments, yet your mind is stuck on what’s to come. 

You heart thumps against your chest when Jake leans towards Neteyam. Jake touches Neteyam’s arm, gaining his son’s attention. “I think it’s a good time to sneak away so you can… you know.” Jake says, shifting his eyes towards you. You try to pretend not to hear, and act as if you are taken aback when Neteyam leans towards you. You don’t want to come off as too nervous. “Are you ready?” Neteyam asks. 

You swallow, trying to take a deep breath. You nod and take Neteyam’s hand when he stands up. Thankfully, the rest of the clan is too busy celebrating and in conversation with each other to notice you and Neteyam sneak away. 

The Tree of Voices is not a far walk from the center of the village, only a few hundred feet away. Your feet seem to carry you to the location, your hand getting sweaty with Neteyam’s. The tree ignites brightly against the darkening sky, and it take your breath away. You’ve been here a million times, yet it looks completely new to you. You and Neteyam stand at the center of the tree, and you face each other. 

“Are you nervous?” Neteyam asks, brining you closer to him. 

You shake your head and Neteyam cocks his head to the side. “Are you sure?” You sigh heavily, pressure leaving your chest. “I’m really nervous.”

Neteyam laughs, snaking his arms around your waist and clasping behind your back. His face dips down, his lips hovering yours. “Don’t be,” Neteyam says, his lips inching closer. “I’ll take good care of you.” With that, his lips crash into yours. 

Your eyes flutter shut, your hands grasping his strong biceps. They muscles feel bigger under your touch and you wonder how hard he’s been working out lately. Swiftly, Neteyam navigates your body to the soft ground, making sure to place you down gently.  Your lips move in synch, your tongues flicking against each other. Again, you feel a pit growing inside of you and you begin to feel hungry for Neteyam. You sigh softly against his lips, the anticipation beginning to eat away at you. 

You spread your legs apart, allowing Neteyam to rest between them. He fits perfectly as he arranges himself comfortably on top of you. His hands and fingers trail down your torse, leaving goosebumps on your skin in their wake. Your fingers lace into his hair, bringing his mouth deeper onto yours. Neteyam pulls back, only to move to kiss the skin along your neck, collarbone, and stomach. You begin to fold, feeling his kisses get closer to your core. 

Neteyam lets his kisses trail downwards until he meets the band of your embellished loincloth. Neteyam sits up, leaning on his knees. He hooks his fingers into the band of your loincloth, beginning to pull them down your thighs. You swallow hard again, knowing your core is now exposed to Neteyam. 

Beneath him, Neteyam gazes at you with love and lust. The way Neteyam feels about you amazes him; he never thought he would feel such a way for anymore. You are the most beautiful Na’vi Neteyam has ever seen. How did he ever despise you? 

Once your loincloth is off, Neteyam tosses it to the side, repositioning himself over you. He begins to take his loincloth off, but you beat him to it, your fingers jitter with lust. You lean up, helping Neteyam slip the piece of clothing off. Neteyam’s cock bounces up to meet you and you try to nonchalantly take a peek. Your jaw clenches at the sight and you are impressed by his length.

You lean back, letting Neteyam hover over you. Again, he brushes your hair out of your face, a small gesture of comfort. “Tell me if you want to stop.” Neteyam whispers. You offer him a smile knowing how gentle and kind he’s trying to be. 

Neteyam connects your mouth with his again and you spread your legs further apart for easy access. With a swift movement, Neteyam lines himself up with you and pushes himself into you. You gasp, your body adjusting to his size. Pain enters you but after a several strokes, the pain subsides into pure pleasure. You grasp Neteyam’s biceps, the pleasure overwhelming. Neteyam goes slow, taking in every moment he spends with you under the Tree of Souls. The pleasure is overwhelming for Neteyam, yet he tries his best to focus only on you. 

Neteyam separates his mouth from yours, hovering near your ear. His soft moans echo through your ears and you’re glad he is enjoying himself as much as you are. “You feel so good,” Neteyam says, a soft moan interlaced as he strokes into you. 

You feel like your lost in the feeling, never wanting for it to end. You feel present and connected with your mate, but you know the end is near. A build up in your core is about to burst and every stroke Neteyam gives you brings you closer and closer. Neteyam, too, is close, yet he tried to preserve himself anyway he can as he’s not ready to be finished with you. ‘Although,’ he thinks to himself, ‘this is only our ceremony night; there’s many more opportunities to come in the future.’

Your legs clench around Neteyam, as a strong sensation of pleasure courses through you. At the same time, Neteyam leans into you, his face buried into your neck. “Fuck,” he whispers into your neck. Neteyam finishes into you, allowing his last stroke to stay deep inside of you. Your back arches, your chest brushing his, and then you slump down. Your limbs are intertwined, as your roll into one being. Neteyam holds you against him, his fingers running through your hair. He places a kiss against your temple, his scent washing over you once again. 

“We’re officially a mated pair,” you say in awe. “Future leaders of the clan.” 

Neteyam hums, letting your head rest against his chest. “You’re the only person I’d want to be mated to or lead the clan with.” 

You take his comment in, thankful to have had the luck of not only being the leader of the Omatikaya clan but to also lead it with Neteyam. You felt lucky that you were forced to learn about Neteyam in a different capacity and learn that he isn’t what you thought he was. But a funny thought enters your mind. “Can you believe we were enemies before? Now looks at us.” 

--- --- --- 

epilogue

Since the ceremony and your time spent under the Tree of Souls, you and Neteyam have been enjoying your time as a mated pair. The first several years you enjoyed being young, taking advantage of having your own home together. You cooked for each other, sometimes doing it together. You stayed up late, lying in bed in the dark and whispering to each other as if the room was full of people. You told each other secrets, made up stories, or talked about your future until the sun began to peek up behind the horizon. 

You also enjoyed flying on your ikran together, and Neteyam would take you for flights when you felt like getting away from the village. He’d bring you to your secret spot, taking late night or early morning swims in the river where you and he had first spent time together. Every moment with Neteyam you loved and wished would never end. 

The clan loved you together, confident that you will successfully lead them one day. You appreciated your role as the future Tsahik and you enjoyed tending to the clan with Moat and Neytiri. You also loved spending time with the Sully’s, combining your family and the Sully’s together for big family meals. Life was good to you and Neteyam. 

A few years into your mateship with Neteyam, you decided it was time to have children. It had been fun finding time to be intimate with Neteyam; being future leaders of the clan kept you busy sometimes. Countless nights you stayed up with Neteyam, working with love and passion to bring life into this world. 

It wasn’t long until you brought your first child into the world, a son, that looked so much like Neteyam. A year later, you and Neteyam brought a daughter into the world. You were in awe of the family you and Neteyam had created together, as it felt like it was just a short time ago that you were children yourself, Neteyam tugging on your tail or playing pranks on you. Before you, Neteyam grew into a man, and you couldn’t wait to see him as the Olo’eyktan one day. For now, he was an amazing mate and father, and you can’t wait to see what the future continues to hold for your family. 

[kiwiraccoon]

Behind you Pt. 2

San x reader Description: she had to go back, it wasn’t enough to only see him once and be pulled away by her best friend. She needed more, and she was going to get it. He wouldn’t wait anymore for her, and she wouldn’t allow him to spend any more time alone there.

Word Count: 1485

Notes: first person POV, y/n, use of nicknames “honey” “dear”, supernatural talk, honestly just fluff and wholesome

part 1 | part 2

“Where are you?” My best friend says over the phone as I walk through the forest again, not being able to understand how I even left the first time.

“The forest.” Is all I respond before hanging up the phone not wanting to hear her complaints and worries over me when she knows I won’t listen. One day away was too long, I have to know him.

She shouldn’t have pulled me away from him that day and dragged me back home, she shouldn’t have but she did. I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye, all that we shared was a longing look that made my heart crack. Why were we so connected without ever meeting before? That’s what I need to find out.

Walking up the porch I listen to the moans of the old wooden boards bend at my weight, enjoying the idea that I had come up with last night. I own this building now, it was passed down after my parents death meaning I could do whatever I wanted to it. I never realized the empire my family had created over the multiple centuries, but seeing this massive building falling apart makes me wonder if my parents even knew.

The door creaks open allowing the rays of sunlight peeking through the trees to illuminate the space of the foyer I had memorized. The build layout was imprinted in my brain the second I got home and pulled down the massive box from the attic. I had hoped to find information about the man I so easily recognized subconsciously, instead I found newspapers and photographs along with more information about the building. Nothing about him.

“Dear? Is that you?” He calls from further in the building and the sound of his voice sends euphoria running through my veins, making my body feel like it could purr like a content cat with its owner. 

I smile as I walk into the spacious room that screams lobby and bar at the same time. “Hi honey, it’s me.” I call out hoping to find him through his voice, but I don’t have to look much further. Arms slip around my waist and pull me into a firm back filling my body with comfort and peace but also excitement and adrenaline. The clashing emotions cause my heart to race in anticipation for what will happen between us now that no one can pull us apart. 

“You’re alone?” He asks, setting his chin against my shoulder, also embracing the sweet moment between us. Our bodies feel like they were meant for each other as neither of us have to bend in an awkward position for the other to reach.

I release a content sigh, “I am.” My response is almost a whisper, I don’t want to ruin such a peaceful moment with a loud voice that will echo in the dusty room.

“Thank god, I thought I would have to play tug of war with you this time.” He chuckles, his arms instinctively pull me closer as if afraid I would be ripped away again.

My own laugh bubbles within my throat while I place my arms over his and squeeze the noticeable muscles in his forearms. “Not this time, not ever.”

He pulls away and comes to stand in front of me moving his hands to rest on my shoulders while he looks deeply in my eyes. This time his smile isn’t as sinister, the look reminds me of undying love for a lover. Something I have only ever dreamed about receiving. “Ever?”

I smile affectionately, “ever. I’ve decided, last night, to sell my house and move in here. Rebuild the place and bring it back to life.”

Without a second to breathe he lifts me in his arms and spins me around eliciting a joyful laugh from my lungs to match his happy smile and firm grip. “Dear, you don’t know how happy that makes me.”

“I do have some questions first.” At my words he carries me over to one of the covered sofas, removing the dusty sheet, before setting me down in a soft way as if I were a porcelain doll. He sits not too far away, but leaves enough distance between us to allow the conversation to remain serious. 

“Ask away, Dear, I will answer to the best of my ability.” His response screams comfort, making my body relax into the surprisingly soft fabric below me. His one hand reaches out to grasp my own, I squeeze his hand in understanding. We both have a need for physical touch between us.

“Who are you exactly?” I ask the one question that has been on my mind for over 24 hours.

“My name is San.” He answers simply also sending a small smile along with his words.

“Well I’m y/n, but what I mean,” I sigh trying to think of my words, he squeezes my hand to ground me. “I guess what I mean is, why are you here, and what is this,” I pause once again, “connection we have?”

He chuckles at my antics, “I’ve been here for years, keeping the place from deteriorating completely. Our connection, it has to do with our families. Your family being witches, in simple terms, and mine being well created by witches. My family was created to protect your family, whether that be through friendship or more. We are the first to have a stronger than friendship connection.”

“Wow.” I breathe out taking in all the information before thinking about his words carefully. “Witches?”

“In a sense, your mother was a green witch, but your family is a line of hereditary witches. There is one witch per generation, though your grandmother and mother only had one child, a daughter. Your grandmother was a cosmic witch, I’m sure you learned a lot about astrology through her while growing up.” I nod along to his words, now understanding my grandma’s obsession with the stars and my moms constant worry for plants and all things related to the outdoors. My mom never allowed me to go to the doctor, she constantly used natural remedies for my injuries and illnesses. I still use them even though she is gone, now her book of rituals and spells makes sense. I just thought the recipes were funky and fun for me as a child, but now I know.

“What about me?” I ask, hoping he might help me understand what kind of witch I could be.

“That’s for you to decide, Dear. Though I guess you could figure it out through your interests.”

“The paranormal.” I answer quickly, not letting him start to ramble off ideas when I already know.

“A hedge witch then. I could help you in research and finding your way.” He says squeezing my hand even more, allowing his consideration and care seep through my skin.

My jaw drops in awe, I never knew why I was so obsessed with the paranormal, but now everything makes sense. My life was decided for me at birth, but I’ve never felt more like myself. “Wow.” We both chuckle together. “I’ve read enough books to know that, I guess, this means we are mates of some sort.”

“Of some sort.” He affirms.

“Our souls know each other, I can feel it.” I say, noticing the pull from within my being to him as the information sinks in. It feels as if my knowledge is growing more than what I am being told.

He smiles an excited smile and nods enthusiastically, “Dear, your third eye is awakening!”

My eyes bulge at the words and my free hand instinctively rushes to the center of my forehead to feel for an eye, this causes the god-like man in front of me to laugh. “No, not a real eye.” He laughs again and this time I laugh with him. “It’s within you, oh this is so exciting!” He starts to happily bounce in his seat, infecting me with his happiness at the same time.

“Honey, tell me more.” I insist now sitting sideways on the sofa to give him my full attention as he tells me everything. About his family, who they were, how their relationship was to my family, and about himself. His likes, dislikes, interests, hobbies, favorite things and places, and even how he has spent his time waiting for me. He also tells me about the building, what he knows from his family, what he has found, and then takes me on tour.

We now stand in what would become our part of the building, a home within the building that provides everything an entire family might need. Multiple bedrooms and bathrooms, a medium sized kitchen, a decently sized living space, and one beautiful master suite. “Honey, would you help me move everything here?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way. Let’s make this place feel like home, Dear.” 

[amysubmits]

A Week (#6)

The other morning the first words out of his mouth were firm and at full volume. “On your knees.”

My body seemed to obey faster than my mind could process. He pushed his cock towards me and I took it into my mouth. He fucked my face for a couple of minutes before we went on about our day. 

--------

I was crying from bubbling-over anxiety as we were in a parking lot. It was a straw that broke the camels back sort of scenario. A stranger triggered a deep insecurity. Some of my insecurities have been particularly raw lately as I’ve been in a new wavy of understanding and accepting my my ADHD related shortcomings. I apologized CD for having to deal with my ‘crazy’. His voice was soft and his body was calm. He said I wasn’t crazy, that he understood my overwhelm and it would be okay. He sat with me until my emotions were regulated again. 

-------

He was talking off and on as I gave him a blow job. A mixture of praise and degradation. I was making a ton of noise. “A little bit of me talking is all it takes to turn you into an unrestrained whore, isn’t it?”

------

Another day he was highly stressed and anxious, in a way that felt to me like it was probably making him disinterested in sex. I was stressed to, but the kind that was making me crave release. I asked for permission to bring myself to orgasm. He said yes, but later he expressed that the way I had worded things made him feel like I was only interested in masturbating. This wasn’t the case, I had just asked to masturbate because I thought I knew he wasn’t in the mood for sex. 

I have been trying to work on initiating sex because I’ve always shied away from it. He’s always initiated often enough that I’ve never had to initiate to stay satisfied. I can always just wait, usually a day or less - and my needs will be met without expressing them, which has unintentionally worked as positive reinforcement for following that instinct I have to avoid asking. But he likes to hear my desire sometimes...and some part of me probably needs to learn that it’s good to voice my wants more often. Anyway, I ended up realizing that this was a scenario where I had shied away from asking what I really wanted (sex) out of fear of asking too much. So while it was good to express something about my sexuality (as expressing wanting relief is somewhat hard for me still) I still felt into the trap of avoiding the full on vulnerability...and it made him feel like I wasn’t interested in him in that moment. It felt like a failure, but I directly requested reassurance before bed, he gave it to me, and it silenced my insecurities. 

------

He picked out a tiny box of coffee cake from the bakery section at the grocery store. We very rarely buy items from the bakery like that. It just contained four slices of cake. The next morning he commented on how I hadn’t had any yet, and said I should. I said I would and went about getting myself a piece. 

“You know you always can have some of anything I buy, right? You don’t have to ask or wait for me to offer. You know that right?”

The honest answer is my logical brain knows, but my emotional brain doesn’t. He knows this, and it’s why he’s saying it explicitly. To remind the emotional part of my brain.

---- 

One day CD pointed out how a year ago, he was less open with me about something he does that’s related to his mental health. We got talking about how therapy has helped us to understand ourselves better and how that’s improved our intimacy. It feels to me like for years now, many times over, we’ve thought we had reached the deepest intimacy we could ever have...because it was the deepest we’d ever experienced before. And yet it seems like over time it always grows deeper somehow. At one point in this conversation we both got teary-eyed. 

-----

He was all “peopled out” but needed his prescriptions picked up from the pharmacy. He asked me if I’d go in. I threw on a hoodie, my shoes and grabbed my purse. “Are you going in wearing those?” he asked. I was wearing leggings. Before I could answer he explained “I don’t care either way. I just know you don’t normally wear them out.” Honestly, he’d probably enjoy me wearing leggings in public more often...but he knows I’m uncomfortable with unwanted attention and often change how I dress in public to reduce the odds of getting that unwanted attention. He was assisting me with managing my own boundaries and sense of safety.  

[crazyyanderefangirlfan]

I have no title for this

A/N: I am continuing this, also sorry if any of the characters are ooc.

Mammon sighed, dragging his hand down his face as he replayed what happened earlier.

The faces of his so called brothers when he announced he disowned and hated was something he never imagined, then again he never imaged he would say anything like that either.

He was in the castle’s gardens, the perfect place to get away from the scene he caused. Normally, Lucifer would have threaten a punishment when they get home-

He inhaled deeply, reminding himself he doesn’t live with them anymore.

“Mammon?”

He peeked through his fingers, MC stood there sporting a worried look on their face.

“I ain’t apologizing to them, if that’s what yer thinking.” He leered, bringing his hand down to glare at the human. 

“I wasn’t going to.” The demon huffed.

“So what is it?” The human sighed and sat next to him.

“I just wanted to make sure your okay."  

"Well I’m okay, so go back to the party. I’m pretty sure the brothers are probably looking for you.”

MC winced at how he said brothers, especially when it didn’t include him. 

“I doubt it, Solomon and Simeon are comforting Asmo and Belphie. Luke is calming down Levi and the rest of them seemed to be in a daze. Especially Lucifer.”

Huh? So Mr. stick-stuck-in-my-ass had nothing to say to him? Good.

“Mammon..”

“Hmm?”

“You…you’ll staying in Purgatory Hall permanently?” It wasn’t a question. They knew his decision they just wanted confirmation.

“Yeah. He answered. "I will.”

“I’m finally free from the bullying and feel appreciated. Plus, Simeon handles me better than Lucifer.”

MC hums at that part, it was true. Ever since Mammon stayed in Purgatory hall he’s been improving a lot, his grades were decent and he started to steal less cause Luke would tend to scold him but never like his brothers.

“I…I really don’t want to forgive them. After the fall they had so much anger within them that I was afraid they’ll kill each other, I thought being the the family punching bag was good way to release their anger and I thought it would be temporary.”

He let out a bitter laugh.

“Well that was a fucking mistake.”

MC frowned heavily and wondered if it was better for the boys to take their anger on each other.

“I finally have the guts to stand my ground after giving them eons of second chances.”

His face contorts into determination.

“I ain’t the family butt monkey anymore. If they want my forgiveness then they better forget it, I’m sick of their shit. The only good things ever since the fall was was you. If I’ve known this was how I would be treated, I would left a long time ago.”

Silenced

It took a while but the words finally sunk in Mammon’s brain and his face burned. MC smiled.

“O-Oi! What’s with that face?!”

“Oh, nothing~”

“Then stop smiling!”

MC giggled and brought him in hug, he stiffen from the contact but slowly returned it.

Yeah. being stuck listening how much his brothers thinks his worthless was horrible but it was worth it to meet his favorite human.

“You better visit me every chance you get.”

“Of course, Great Mammon.”

__________________________________

Solomon rubbed circles on Asmo’s back as he sobbed while Simeon patted Belphie’s head as the demon silently cried on his chest. 

Lord Diavolo managed to do damage control and had Barbatos guide them to a guest room once they sorted through their emotions. But it might take a while, seeing how much emotional damage Mammon cause them.

Luke managed to get Levi to calm down and right now he’s curled into a fetal position in the corner of the room, Satan was sitting on the bed with a wistful look in his eyes, as if recalling something. Beel was next to him, he had a despondent expression on his face.

Simeon glanced to the oldest in the far side of the room, Lucifer’s back was turn from them but he can see the tension in his shoulders.

He can tell he was most affected by this.

Simeon frowned, he knew what direction the brothers' treatment of Mammon lead, if he knew that it was this bad he would have stepped in and tried to mediate it.

But the damage is done.

"I failed him."

Huh?

It was barely above a whisper, but Simeon still heard it. Lucifer’s shoulders were shaking, but his back was still facing them.

“I failed him…WE failed him.”

“You all failed him a long time ago”

The brothers flinched and Solomon and Simeon gave the little angel a pointed look, now was not the time for criticism. Luke just glared back.

“What? It’s the truth.”

“Luke.” Simeon warned. “Now is not the time for that.”

“Simeon, you heard what Mammon said. They abused enough to make him finally hate them, and honestly it’s long over due and well deserved.”

Asmo sobbed harder at that, Belphie hugged Simeon tighter.

“Can…Can we fix this?”

Out of all the brothers, Beel felt the most shame, he was the protector of the family and a family man, he loved them all so much. Now his family was crumbling before his eyes because he didn't step in more and let Mammon know he is loved.

Solomon bit his lower lip before answering.

"I'm...Not entirely sure."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Levi finally sat up and glared at the sorcerer. Solomon sighed.

"From his choice of words and how heated they are, there is a low chance of Mammon talking to any of you, much less forgive you."

Silence engulfed the room once more, sans the fourth and seventh borns' sobs.

"Well, then we have to keep trying until he's willing to hear us." Satan finally spoke up after long period of silence. His lips were formed in a thin line but the remained steady contact with the angel and sorcerer.

"That's...That's right." Asmo sniffed, wiping his eyes.

"Asmo...." Solomon started but the demon continued.

"I love Mammon, I really do." The champagne haired male confessed. "I just get jealous of his attention, that's why I'm mean to him."

"Then tell it to his face." Luke snapped, with a heated glare.

"Should we plan first?" Belphie's voice was quiet but still audible for them.

Finally, Lucifer faced the others. His eyes were red and bit wet. This is the first time some of them saw Lucifer like this. For his brothers however it was the second time, the first was the death of Lilith.

"I refuse to lose another sibling."

__________________________

For the past two weeks, the brothers did everything they can to Mammon to talk to them. Unfortunately, Mammon avoided them even more after what transpired in the party, making them use more drastic matters for his attention.

For one, paying his debts from the witches. The witches themselves were surprised, but accepted it. Satan and Asmo thought it was the end of it until they overheard them saying they still plan to use Mammon and exploit him due to how worthless he is.

They were soon made an example to other witches if they ever want to mess with their older brother, not unless they wish to be teared from the inside too.

They asked Simeon on how Mammon reacted when he heard about his debt paid to them.

“He was surprised but suspicious.”

Okay, that was understandable.

When asked he wanted to talk to them, Simeon just gave them a sad look

Looks like they have to go to plan B.

Mammon ran his fingers through his hair. Just are those guys planning?

When he heard that not only they paid his debt but killed the witches, he was relieved but remembered it was them.

Just why would they do that? He asked for their helped before, even confiding them about the abuse. But they all brushed him aside and told him he deserved it, truthfully he did but it still hurt how callous they were.

So why now?

Gah! It’s all confusing to him.

Turning a corner, he felt hands on him and dragging him inside a room

“What the fuck!”

He turned to his kidnappers, it was his former brothers. He scowled.

“What do you want?”

They sans Lucifer flinched at his tone which internally satisfied him.

No one spoke, they just shifted around glancing at each other, Mammon scoffed and turned around to go.

“Wait!” Beel’s frantic plea made him stop, he slowly turned back to them, arms crossed.

“Make it quick.” That seemed to calm them down.

“Mammon.” Satan started.

Of course, go with the one who’s best at words.

“We…We want to apologize for our treatment towards you-“

“Way too late for that.” The second born snapped, eyes narrowing dangerously. That earned him another flinch from them.

“We know that, we just want to at least try to earn it.” Asmo confessed.

“Well, none of you deserve it.”

That shocked them all, even Lucifer.

“But me and Satan went to the witches and paid your debt and got rid of them too…”

“And that’s enough for me to forgive the centuries of abuse I went through?” He sneered.

“Well…” Asmo shrunk.

“I told ya about how they treated me, but you all brushed me off and said I deserved it. Sure it was true, but could have at least comfort me instead of making it worse.”

No said anything.

“I am tired of being the only one who has to be punished for my sins! Does Satan get punished for being angry? No! What about Beel? Does he get punished and strung up for eating almost everything? No!”

The said demons flinched at remarks, mostly because it was true.

“I’m the only one who gets punished for acting on my sin! I tried to rein it but every time I do you all just wait for me to mess up!”

Mammon panted hard, each one of their faces in varying degrees of shock. But he wasn’t done.

He turned his attention to Satan, who flinched at his gaze.

“I was the only one who took care of you while everyone else was too busy with their own problems. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be dead.”

The blonde swallowed thickly at the revelation, and judging from everyone else, it was the truth.

“Mammon, look you have every right to be pissed at is, but w-we’re really sorry.” Levi gulped when his older brother’s eyes were at him.

“This whole sorry thing is a joke, not of you are sorry. Yer all just guilty, you don’t care about my feelings, only your guilty conscience.”

“That’s not true!” Belphie denied.

“W-we do love you, y-yes I feel guilty. B-but that’s because I-I love you.” He stammered as tears began to flow in his eyes.

Mammon want to comfort him but he had to remained firm.

“Mammon.” Lucifer began. “What we have done to you terrible, but we are willing to do whatever it takes to earn your forgiveness.”

Mammon almost faltered at that.

Almost.

“I remember you used to promise me you would protect me, Lucifer.”

Confusion was apparent in their faces, he continued.

“You promised you’d protect me from any danger, but guess what? You lied.”

This stunned everyone. Mammon continued.

“All you do is bring me pain, be it physical, emotional or mental. Following was a mistake.”

That shocked them, especially Lucifer.

“Ever since the Fall, I had keep out family afloat while your too busy kissing Diavolo’s ass. I had to be the the punching bag to keep everyone happy.”

“But you didn’t need to be that!” Beel cried, now close to crying.

It was Mammon’s turn to be silent.

“Your right, I didn’t have to a punching bag.”

They glanced at each other in hope. But that was quickly dashed.

“I should have just let you guys kill each other.”

Those words made their blood froze, even more when Mammon glared at them coldly.

“I allowed myself to be the family punching bag cause you all needed let some anger out or you turn to each other. I did that cause I loved you, but I guess that the wrong choice.”

“After all, it would less of a hassle for me in the future.”

By now everyone was nearly in tears.

Turning around, Mammon opened the door.

“Wh-where are you going?”

He didn’t know whose voice is that, he didn’t care.

“To my real family.”

He slammed the door, refusing to listed to their calls to come back.

Mammon can feel the tears run down his face but he wiped them away.

Hate me, just hate me already.

A/N: here ya go. Sorry if this wasn’t what any of you wanted. If you want to do a different ending, go ahead and reblog.

@rainiishowers

[satans-helper]

Reaching for Stardust - Part IX

Read Looking for Space here // Playlists here // Read on wattpad

Word Count: ~3600

Warnings: sexy time

A/N: I always have a lot of writing all the boys into these series. Hope you enjoy <3

---

It felt as though I had permanent butterflies in my stomach since Josh proposed. Every time I looked at my ring, the diamond like a brilliant little piece of the moon and the tiny blue stars surrounding it, those invisible butterflies fluttered with even more fervor, and I had trouble concentrating on anything but the wedding. Josh and I set a date that same night at the beach–January 18th–and since then I’d begun writing a list of everything I needed to do step by step. 

First, we had to tell everyone. We told the boys together when we were able to reconvene in person and my butterflies were scattering like mad when we did. But their three individual reactions were so amusing to me that they erased a good chunk of the nerves–Danny first looked surprised, wide-eyed and mystified in the dim, warm light of the bustling restaurant, until Sam reached across the booth we were sitting in to smack Josh on the arm. Then they both burst into huge grins and jovial cheers while Jake said “wow,” smiled in his own quiet way and asked to look more closely at the ring. 

Though I’d been a part of their lives for years, there had still been a part of me that worried they’d object to this no matter everything they’d said to assure me of the opposite. But the celebrations began instantly, with Jake ordering all of us drinks and appetizers and being the first one to make a poetic but concise toast, to which Sam said it’d been long enough and Danny asked if we’d set a date. 

“January,” I told him. “January 18th.”

“So soon,” Danny said.

“Not really,” Josh replied, taking a sip of his whiskey, and I knew he was saying that in part just to keep me calm as well as keep all of them calm. It felt like all this time would go by in the blink of an eye. “About seven months. Plenty of time.”

“I’ve never been a groomsman before,” Sam mused, grinning, looking positively lethal and beautiful, just as any Kiszka or Wagner groomsman should be, I thought. “This wedding is going to be a riot.”

“Is that a warning?” I asked with a laugh.

“It’s a promise. It’s the first wedding of our group–it has to be absolutely outlandish.”

“You and Danny will be next,” I joked, and Danny snorted. 

“Yeah, right,” Danny was quick to say. “You think Sam would ever let anyone lock him down?”

“Rude,” Sam replied with a scoff and leaned against Danny’s shoulder. “I’m a total catch, just hard to catch and keep.” 

“Jake will be the best man, of course,” Josh interjected, smiling at his twin who was caught between the two bickering boys and the window. “And there’s three of you, so there will be three bridesmaids to match.”

“Well, one maid of honor, two bridesmaids,” I added. “Kirsti, obviously, Bev and Jane.”

“Jane?” Jake repeated, eyebrows rising. 

I was going to inquire about that curious look on his face until Sam said, “Oh, right. Only three–I forgot you have no friends.”

“Now who’s the rude one?” Despite that, I laughed again, already a little buzzed from the emotional reveal and the bit of tequila twirling in my stomach. “We’re trying to keep it small anyway. Close friends and family only.”

“Is Bev okay with us being corresponding members of the party or whatever?” Sam took a drink and leaned back, lying his arm back across the booth behind Danny. “We did date–or whatever–for a little while.”

Somewhat secretly, I’d really wanted that to work out. But Sam was not exactly a one-woman man. The only person he seemed to want to be fully monogamous with was Danny. “She’s fine with it. I already asked.”

Sam hummed, looking up for a moment then back at me. “How’s she looking these days?”

“Better than when you were with her.”

He held a hand over his chest. “Ouch. Of course.”

“Are you all gonna go stag? Bring dates,” I encouraged. “We can make room for some plus ones.”

“We haven’t had much time for romance,” Jake said. 

“Other things though, I’m sure,” Josh said, smirking behind his glass. As he drank, he put his hand on my thigh beneath the table and I relaxed even more, warm and happy in a way I’d never known before. We were beginning another new chapter and we didn’t have to do it alone. 

After the boys, we told both of our parents–I was actually more nervous to tell my own than Josh’s but, to my great relief, both my mom and dad seemed genuinely pleased, maybe even outright happy, about it. Echoes of my mom’s past reservations about Josh came to my mind, as did the conversation I had with my dad years prior about love and the love I had for Josh, but I’d known all along that everyone else’s perceptions never mattered. Besides, it really was all in the past. My parents adored the little loon that had stolen my heart. Josh was good through and through, a better person than many, and I could only envision a wondrous, beautiful, secure life with him that really was until death. 

“Most everyone else will be told via formal invitation,” Josh said after I had returned from my parent’s house. He was lounging on the couch that was a little too worn in next to me, scrolling through his phone, something he seldom did. It was only because the upcoming wedding and I found it adorable and endearing that he was staying so involved in all of it. “Where do we even get those?”

I peered at his phone. “You’re already on a website that sells them, babe. Nothing wrong with ordering them. I bet it’s cheaper.”

“Right, who knows.” He sat up and moved in closer, bringing the phone between us. “There are so many designs. It’s a little overwhelming. What do we want?”

“Should we wait for the engagement photos? I want everyone to see your beautiful face when they open the invitations.”

Josh grinned at me. “No, yours. But yes, you’re right. We still have to do that and I have the perfect photographer to do it.”

“Someone you work with, I presume.” I grinned back at him. “That would be perfect. Are they expensive?”

“I doubt it. But I’ll text her right now.” Josh looked down, busy typing away. “She could do our wedding photos too. I’ll show you her portfolio.” 

I thought for a moment, then groaned. “Wait, I just realized–we have to book the venue before we even do the invitations.” I reached for my laptop on the coffee table. “I forgot to do that before. Shit.”

Josh rubbed my back. “There’s so much to do. I forgot too.” 

With an outdoor wedding out of the question, we’d searched for something that would shield us all from the cold but still resonate with both of us and something that wouldn’t cost an arm and a leg and, thankfully, we’d found it. A beautiful, rustic and charming lodge just a little ways north, perched on a small hill and surrounded by firs and pines. As soon as I’d seen the pictures online, I could picture the other pieces–the flowers and greenery, the candles, tablecloths, the food and the cake. Suddenly Pinterest had become a hobby of mine. 

Josh threw his phone aside against the arm of the couch and snuggled up to me. “Let’s take a break. All of this can wait, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Sort of. Some of this stuff actually can't wait,” I answered, though I knew I couldn’t resist; I closed the laptop and set it aside. Josh had become even more affectionate and sexual, essentially, since the proposal–something I didn’t even realize was a possibility. Normally, we kept sex in the bed or on the couch but lately we’d been fooling around everywhere–the shower, the kitchen, the hallway and even the balcony, which had actually been my favorite, though I kept that to myself. I got the sense Josh liked the exhibitionism a little too much as well and I didn’t want an eviction before we were even ready to move; it was bad enough that Sam and Danny had caught us at that Halloween party ages ago. I’d never forget it and I doubt they ever would either.

“Oh, come on, darling.” Josh pivoted and took me with him, pulling me against his chest while he sat back, one foot on the floor and his other leg extended against my thighs. His arms wound around my waist, hands wandering up to my chest. I sighed and closed my eyes, so easily swayed and seduced by the slightest of his touches. “I absolutely love how focused you are on all of this. It makes me feel so loved.”

I smiled and brought my head back to try and look at him. “I want us to have a nice wedding.”

“We will. It’ll be magnificent.” Josh cupped my breasts, squeezed, and began to kiss my neck. “I can imagine how beautiful you’ll look in a wedding dress.” One hand slid down to my thighs. “I wouldn’t mind if you wore dresses more often.”

I brought one of my own legs to the floor; the gentle touch of Josh’s fingers between my spread thighs was enough to make me gasp. “Easier access?”

Josh chuckled. “That too.” His fingers made their way past the waistband of my shorts, spreading teasingly over my underwear while my left hand gripped his thigh. He brought his lips to my ear and nibbled, making me laugh, and increased the pressure of his touch between my legs. “I love seeing the ring on your hand.” 

I could feel his hard-on pressing into my lower back. This newfound sort of possessiveness was a surprising turn-on–Josh was never really like that, had never been even slightly insecure enough to warrant that, but I liked it, probably because he was still so quiet about it. He looked at my hand, and the ring, often and made a point to hold my right hand more frequently than my left, as if wanting everyone else around to see the ring, too. He’d also started to take immense pleasure in referring to one another as “fiances,” which I did too, but the obvious pride whenever he said the word wasn’t something anyone could ignore. I was into that as well. I’d always enjoyed parading Josh around and knowing everyone else would recognize we were together–now it was solidified. I couldn’t wait until he had a ring, too. We were bound together forever even without the rings but still–it was a beautiful addition. 

Reaching behind myself, I felt for his curls and the warm skin of the back of his neck. “You’re gonna get a matching one?”

Josh kissed my cheek. “Naturally.” 

Rings, a ceremony, our names together on a binding piece of paper–the future. I thought of the house that I’d declined to pursue and where that would leave us, literally. We’d talked about it. Talked about how Savannah had been a wonderful trip and was a wonderful city we’d like to experience again but moving there wasn’t what either of us wanted. I was sure Josh’s conversation with Jake contributed to that–undoubtedly, he’d needed to share the feelings surrounding the changes, the distance, the fears that he wanted to keep to himself. I was sure Jake had told him how silly it was that Josh had even considered moving further away. But all of that had been it, really. No further discussion about where and when down the line we’d be and I was still curious; I was also still sure that Josh wouldn’t be able to live his life in the same place forever. I couldn’t either, but one step at a time. I had to remind myself of that. Nothing was a race. Everything was a marathon. 

“You’ve thought about looking for jobs at Wayne State?” I questioned as Josh’s fingers moved beneath my underwear and I had to catch my breath, trying to retain enough focus to not lose the momentum of my curiosities. “Or that other one–the College of Creative Studies or whatever?”

“Mhmm.” Josh brought his lips to my neck again. “And you so wish to discuss this now?”

“Maybe just a little. I’m curious.”

“I’m curious about a lot of things too,” Josh said, bringing his other hand up underneath my shirt, palm and fingers splayed over my sternum. “But what do you think about continuing this conversation after we fuck?” 

“Either of those schools would pay more than what you’re making now,” I continued, deciding to purposefully keep the conversation going long enough to rile him up further. I fished behind my back for his groin; he moved back just enough to let me spread my hand over his erection still sheathed in his own shorts. “And there’d be more to do there.” Really, the greatest pull behind moving to Detroit was simply being in the same city as Jake, Sam and Danny. Even if they weren’t there all the time, they’d still be there enough, and although that city’s population may have been on the decline for decades, it had recently gained three spectacular rising stars. 

Josh removed his hand from beneath my shirt and brought it up to cover my mouth. “I never thought I’d ever ask you this, but will you hush, please, my love?” he asked, to which I giggled behind his palm. He lowered his hand to caress my chest once more while his hand below permeated his own body heat into my own, fingers gently gliding over me, the tip of his middle finger intentionally adding more pressure against my clit. 

Suddenly that touch was gone and Josh was circling my upper body and bringing me down onto the floor with him, which just made me laugh more. I turned around, moving onto my knees on the carpet instead of the sand like the night he’d proposed, but he just climbed over me. He pushed the coffee table away with one hand and my eyes zeroed in on the flexing of his muscles, the strength overlaid by supple tan skin, then back up to the slight flush on his neck. I wanted to touch him all over.

Josh knew as much. He pulled his shirt off and I thrust my hands out to meet his body; I squeezed his sides, pet down to his hip bones and back up to his chest, catching a small smile on his lips during the languid caressing. I’d never wanted someone so badly and the deep, aching want never disappeared no matter how many days we spent together–thankfully, the ache could always be satiated since he was real and he was there, always beside me, always eager to be together any which way. Still, sometimes I was in disbelief that Josh chose me. Chose me back when I gave him such a hard time, when the forces–how could I ever forget Steve?--that pushed us together felt unfair. And then he’d whisked me away with his creativity, intellect, kindness and beauty. I was spellbound for all eternity.

Lost in thought for a moment while I rubbed my hands up his arms, lingering at his biceps, I remembered how much Josh loved to actually hear these things. “I’m so lucky to have you, Josh.” I looked up from that tantalizing throat to his plush lips and they curved into another, bigger smile; I spared one hand to trace his lips with my finger. “The prettiest boy with the prettiest smile.” 

He cupped my jaw, fingers spreading over my cheekbones while his thumb stroked my chin. “And I’m even luckier to have you, the prettiest girl in the whole world,” he said and I blushed as I always did when he complimented me, but much of that internal fire was fueled by how intently he was looking at me. 

He lowered himself to bring his lips to mine; as we kissed, swapping the softest sweetness while I felt him lift his hips off me enough to pull his shorts down. I clasped my hand on the back of his head as he stripped me of my shorts next, and we sighed against each other’s mouths as he pushed my leg back and slid inside. With my shirt pushed up and my entire lower body bare, I could feel the slight roughness of the carpet against my skin but more than that I could feel the luxurious silkiness of Josh’s skin on mine and the whispers of his hair against my cheek and neck. I let myself feel all of it, eyes closed, as he pushed into me; I hooked my fingers in his hair and brought his mouth back to mine, never able to get enough of those kisses, and squeezed around him until he was moaning and pawing at my chest through my shirt. 

He must have been slightly more riled up than I’d thought; just a couple minutes and Josh dug his fingertips into my thigh as his teeth dug into my neck, thrusting hard as he huffed right below my ear. Then I felt the slight stutter of his hips between my legs while he gasped for air and started to apologize breathlessly, lifting himself up with his hands on the carpet, cheeks all red as he looked down at me. 

“Don’t be sorry,” I said, touching his heated waist, but before I could assure him any further, Josh suddenly surged forward again and brought his fingers down to me, sliding through the slight slick that lingered to rub my clit. Then it was me who was gasping and pulling him down to kiss and nip, my arms clasping his upper body to keep the two of us locked together as long as he could manage; when I came, eyes squeezed shut against the fury of black and white light, his name a soft sigh from my lips, Josh hissed and pulled out. 

“Too sensitive now, darling,” he said with a little laugh, eyes blinking starry affection at me. He flopped down next to me, his backside pressed against the couch, and laid his limbs over my body. One eyebrow rose slightly and he leaned over, pulling my leg over his and inspecting. “I hope you didn’t get any rugburn.” 

I looked down at his hand on my leg. “I don’t think so,” I said truthfully, not aware of any damage from the carpet, though being down there like that reminded me that I needed to vacuum. I tried to get a look at his knees next to inspect for damage on his perfect skin. “What about you? You were going pretty hard.”

Josh kissed my cheek and slid his hand back between my legs, two fingers slowly pushed inside the wetness and heat. “Too hard?”

I laughed, uncontrolled and loud, and tore his hand away from me. “I’m too sensitive now,” I said, then my body relaxed again, eyes fixed on the image of him bringing those fingers to his mouth and sucking. “God. You’re crazy.”

He winked. “You love it.”

“I do love it,” I affirmed, giving him a kiss before I managed to pull myself up from the floor, taking my discarded shorts and underwear with me, then I gave him a wink. “You drive me crazy, baby. Now what do you want for dinner?” 

For dinner, we cooked together–a vegetarian dish Sam had shared that turned out to be more enjoyable than I’d anticipated–and as we shared utensils, tools, techniques and flavors, the weight of the wedding dripped away from me. While Josh was usually even more restless and proactive than I was in some ways, he was so much more adept at trusting the intrinsic timing of things and knowing that, no matter what, everything would work out exactly as it needed to. I was glad he was channeling more of my own meticulous nature when it came to the wedding though–it wasn’t going to plan itself as much as both of us wanted it to. And as we enjoyed the dinner we’d made together, we talked about other bits and pieces of that–what the menu might be, the cake, the bar. 

“We’re not even thinking about arguably the most fun and important aspect yet,” Josh said when our plates were clean and we were hunched over my laptop together. I was finalizing the details to secure our venue. “The honeymoon.”

Truly, I hadn't thought about that, which made me pause for a moment, surprised at my own lack of foresight. “Oh. Yeah, right,” I said, then felt instantly deflated. “Would we even have the funds for that?” 

“We could ask for donations as our wedding gifts?” Josh suggested and again I was surprised by his own very detailed way of thinking through this. “And I would absolutely spare some of my savings for that. We should go anywhere you want to go.”

I sat back. “Where do you want to go?” 

“Some place magical, with lots of sun and blue skies. We’ll be missing it by the time we’re in the dead of winter, I’m sure.” 

“So a beach. I can get behind that,” I said, opening a new tab for Google. “But which beach? Somewhere international?” 

“International would be splendid,” Josh said, perching his chin on my shoulder to watch me search for “affordable beach honeymoons.” “If your heart is up for another plane ride.”

“As long as you’re with me,” I told him and felt him smile.

---

Tagging: @kissingthegoat @jjwasneverhere @clairesjointshurt @bizzielisteningtogreta @colorstreammind

If you'd like to be tagged in any of my fics, you can go here or DM me <3

[whencallstheheart]

To be fair to Lucas and Elizabeth fans, this breakup is unexpected coming straight from their relationship in season 9. However, as you and others have said before, it makes sense based on season 10.

While obviously emotions are running high, it’s almost a bit surprising to me how Lucas fans cannot accept that everything this show does is for ratings.

I see them commenting about how disrespectful this is to the “loyal” hearties, as if this hasn’t all been done before.

Elizabeth’s decision in season 8 was meant for shock factor and the ratings that would follow. No one expected her to pick Lucas, even Team Lucas fans. Literally every sign pointed to her choosing Nathan.

Ratings and viewership are vital for a TV show, and drama like a huge main couple breakup like this brings these things ten fold.

Funniest thing about this whole situation to me is that Lucas fans are finally realising how fickle Brian Bird is. Multiple times today i’ve seen a repost of Bird saying that the Lucas decision was the right one and that Elizabeth was falling for Lucas this time, not the mountie. Look at him now, he was almost ecstatic in the aftershow interview about the direction of the show.

Only thing that’s truly annoyed me is a post I saw saying that Lindsey is clearly Team Nathan, as if John Tinker and his wife were not the No.1 Team Lucas supporters? Even Alfonso literally said that the reason he brought a triangle in is because he wanted to show fans that Nathan was the better choice even though he was a Mountie?! Makes me wonder what would have happened if Alfonso had stuck around for season 8?

Absolutely. Season 10 turned everything on its head. I certainly never expected that Nathan and Elizabeth would ever get a second chance. I fully expected her to marry Lucas and was fine with that.

Yeah, they're mad. They're lashing out. But all shows do this. Couples break up all the time. They have to keep things fresh and exciting. Unfortunately their couple was a casualty but I'm sure Lucas is going to get a good storyline that he wouldn't have been able to have with Elizabeth. This is a positive thing for the character but I don't think they're ready to see that yet.

BB is the worst and I've been saying that for years but people still worship the guy for some reason. He's gonna go along with whatever is happening at the moment... as are all of the actors and writers, etc. People fail to see the big picture sometimes.

The whole showrunner thing is a big mystery. Any of the showrunners could've been fine long-term but for whatever reason they like to switch it up. I don't really get the logic behind it or keep up with what any of them are saying. I haven't heard her talk about Nathan/Elizabeth but she did seem very pro-Lucas' future in season 11. Maybe they had to get Tinker out because they wanted to put Elizabeth with Nathan? Who knows. We'll never know.

[easierreadthandone4711]

Shark Week

It’s about that time for my uterus to start torturing me, reminding me that I am not carrying a child inside. I know this, not only because of my calendar but because my emotions just shifted from sad girl to don’t fxckin try me. This usually lasts only a day thankfully, otherwise I’m just a sensitive girly. I think the most embarrassing time was tearing up from a bounty paper towel commercial.. it’s a problem to say the least.

Truly, I think my period serving as a reminder that I’m without child just brings my ass down. I have three babies, two angel babies and I’m still bumming over this monthly reminder? Yes. If there was anything I was certain about, it’s that I am supposed to be a mom. The silly part is getting bummed out as if I’ve even had the sex to make one. 🥲 #sadgirl for life I guess. When am I not a sad girly? When I’m with my babies. Every month, it’s the same thought: do I really wish I were pregnant? Yes. Every. Damn. Month.

I’ll be honest, I’m not even someone who “enjoyed” being pregnant. I didn’t hate it either, however, the hurdles I went through made it difficult to say “I love being pregnant”.

I miscarried the first time I got pregnant, and almost died after having my first. Two blood transfusions were needed, officially putting me in a “high risk” category after an antibody was found. My youngest was the smoothest pregnancy and labor I had. I imagine she’s the reason I’m so confidently ready to keep having babies.

The flutter that turns into kicks is definitely a highlight of all my pregnancies. I would play with my babies while they were in there, a little game of tag if you will. I would tap on different parts of my belly and wait for their response. I spoke to them all the time. Little did they know, they were becoming my best friends. There was never a time I felt alone while I was pregnant, they were as present to me as if they were out of my body already. “Good morningggg” “What are we going to eat?” “You know what you need to try, your grandfathers veal piccata” “Sorry that was so loud, it’ll quiet down again soon” I feel like my hand never left my belly.

When I say I was SAD when they were out of my body… oof. The loneliness I felt. Now I had to share them with this horrible world and this world doesn’t deserve them. The maternal instincts had kicked in when I saw the positive sign on the stick to protect them but it amplified in ways I never imagined. A trip to the grocery store was scarier than it used to be. I can’t trust the drivers around me, everything is filthy, I don’t want them getting sick, every stranger was a potential danger to my baby and it was overwhelming at times. Getting gas? Stepping out of the car with them inside of it, you’d see me making silly faces or waving into the window. “Mommy is still hereeeee - you’re not alone”

Frankly, I don’t think that feeling has gotten any better. They’re ranging from 12-15 years old now and the fact that I can’t be with them every moment leaves a constant reel of ‘things that can go wrong’ playing in my head. Are their peers being kind to them? Are their teachers treating them with respect? Don’t worry, I’m not irrational in any of this. I realize my kiddos have to grow into themselves and this society we live in today and they need to do that their own ways. I can only hope that if they find themselves in a situation where they are unsure how to move, they’ll reach out to me.

I’ll never be able to understand the neglectful parents, The abusive parents, The absent parents - never ever. When I look at my children, there’s not a damn thing I wouldn’t do to keep them happy healthy and safe. Not one fxcking thing. Our babies are born and as a mother, you’re literally their lifeline. You’re it. You’re the one responsible to love them and take care of them. I’m not going to dismiss fathers here but let’s be realistic and admit that there’s something about the bond between a mother and her child. The baby felt you first, they heard you first, their heartbeat started in you. That’s something NOBODY else in the world can say they have except that mother and that child.

Post partum depression is a struggle in itself. Not only did you spend the last nine months growing a life inside of you but now your beautiful baby is here and for some reason you’re not okay. Then you blame yourself. 😓 I should be happy. I should be over the moon in love with my baby. I’m already a bad mom, I’m not even happy. The guilt, the shame and the doubt that inserts itself creates such a dark shadow over you. The baby is crying and you sit there staring off or maybe you cry too. If by chance you’ve dealt with this before, or maybe dealing with it currently, please know, there’s nothing wrong with you. Give yourself some grace as your body just went through something truly traumatic. You did not just deliver a pizza, you grew a life inside of you, managed to bring them into this world - THAT in itself is incredible, as many women who were unable to do so can probably tell you the same, it’s not easy for some. Be proud of yourself, even if just for this moment right here as you read this. Be proud of yourself. You made it this far and you and baby are gonna grow with each other, into this new life together. The life before them doesn’t exist anymore, it’s not supposed to feel easy and seamless. You’re gonna figure it out and I know you’re strong enough because you made it this far already. Don’t discredit the last nine months. Don’t discredit the labor. You did that shit and you’re gonna conquer so much more and it’ll be the most bittersweet and incredible thing to watch your baby learn and grow into their own selves… and as strong as you remain, they’ll mimic your strength in the future. There’s no giving up now mama - you’re gonna show that baby EXACTLY what you’re made of. You’re that badass who brought them into this world and you’re gonna walk alongside them in this world - frankly, they won’t even notice that they’re carrying you too. They’re the reason you keep going ♥️ y’all have each other, just like that day you saw those two lines show up on that stick.

Didn’t expect this post to go this route but I miss my babies and there’s not a second that goes by that I don’t remember why I’m here - and that’s because of them 💜💚🩷

[kexing]

[if you find it creepy that I comment on your mental health notes like a creeper, please say so]

Hey MJ. I read your notes about making zero progress and going backwards. I don’t want to offer platitudes or condescend to you because i don’t know what your life is like and what you’re dealing with, but i wanted you to know that from this internet stranger’s perspective, you are brave and strong. Because i look at your blog, and i see someone who is kind and compassionate, who loves passionately and unapologetically, someone who is still hopeful. And to me, that takes courage, that takes emotional strength and resilience, to still see beauty in the darkness, to put yourself out there where others can see, to deliberately choose love and kindness over and over again.

Yours is the only blog i visit regularly because you are witty and talented and unhinged in the best kind of way, yes, but above all because your blog is a safe place for me. Last week i had to put down my 14-year-old cat. It was one of the hardest things i’ve ever had to do. I had a panic attack at work and had to take the rest of the day off. I got home and opened Tumblr and looked at your Dating Sim gif sets. And it just settled something deep inside me. I’m still a mess, but when i need a smile or to escape for a little while, your blog is my go-to. Think of the prettiest pink sky, the softest soft hug, that is what your blog is to me. And all you ever had to do is be your—talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique—self. 💖

[you said that you sometimes find motivation in fannish things but not so much in other things. someone i respect very much once said that to be a fan of / be obsessed with something, that is living with love. those who know love and those who don’t have very different qualities of life. i think it’s such a lovely way to describe hyperfixation: we are living with love]

i do not find it creepy, friend!! this is a public blog and i enjoy when people interact with my posts/tags. promise, it’s all fine! 🥰🥰🥰

hi! first of all, my DEEPEST condolences to you. i know how pets can be super important to us, my dog is already old and sometimes i try to prepare myself because i know sooner or later he’ll have to leave me. but i don’t think one can truly be ready for something like that. so i completely understand your struggle and even though it’s so incredibly hard, you’re dealing with it as best as you can and you’re sooo strong for that!! most days i don’t think i live on without my dog. god knows how exactly i’m going to do that akdkskdkks but we gotta live one day at a time and make the most of them. it’s all we really have!

so i’m sending you lots of hugs and positive energy!!

when you mentioned visiting my blog regularly and feeling a little better after seeing my our dating sim gifset, i legit started crying 😭😭😭 (granted, i cried a lot today but this is the first happy tears. so thank you!)

i mean, i do like sharing about my struggles sometimes because i don’t want people to think i’m just preaching toxic positivity and that i never go through tough times when that’s simply not true. i hit rock bottom every day but happiness is made of lil moments and i get to have many of those throughout the day as well, most of them here making and sharing things i love with my mutuals.

it’s just my choice to focus on the good moments instead of the bad ones and i want to be defined by my choices, not my struggles.

but i didn’t really expect to bring that kind of comfort to someone else and it really moves me that i can help you in any way, even if just for one second. losing a loved one is sooooooo hard, i’m happy that i can keep you company and that this can be a safe place for you, even if i didn’t know that. so thank you for telling me about it!!

we are living with love 🥺🥺🥺😭😭😭 that is so beautiful and so true!!!

and you know what? i can live without being loved but i simply cannot live without loving things and people but i wouldn’t have it any other way!!! while being loved is one of the most wonderful things ever, i get to have little pieces of everything that i love in me as well and that’s enough 🥰

thank you so much for reaching out!! for writing such lovely words, they really touched a very deeeeeeeeep part of my heart and i feel floored by your kindness.

takes a brave, strong and compassionate person to know what bravery, strength and compassion look like. so everything you see in me reflects exactly the type of person you are!! we’re all mirrors of our thoughts and actions!!!

i’m sure your cat had a lovely life and was very lucky to be loved by you!!!!!!!!!!

take care of yourself, angel!!!! love you ❤️💙

[kob131]

Okay so I know I’m getting mocked for this-

I am a fan of Mr Enter. Not a former fan, a current, ongoing one. In fact, I would be considered a long running Mr Enter fan, having been a fan since...at least October of 2015, since I have clear memories of watching his 100th Animated Atrocity- the Drawn Together movie. I’ve never unsubscribed from his channel and I tend to watch his reviews as they come out or rewatch some periodically. And before anyone gets any bright ideas- No, my temper is not influenced by his infamous temper. Turns out massive amounts of bullying and family issues alongside the intense emotions that Autism can bring leads to being a dumbass on the internet. 

And make no mistake, Enter has been a dumbass before. His Turning Red take (”Why isn’t this bright and colorful movie not being depressing?”) is one yes. His witch hunting about the Spongebob writers is another. And he’s had more- Trust me, I’ve seen them. He does deserve some of the criticism that gets thrown his way. ... But unfortunately, he doesn’t deserve all of it.

Let’s start with one of the most well known criticism he gets- The Turning Red take. If what I stated the take was confused you, I don’t blame you. Because of all the criticism launched at him for it, a depressingly large amount of it was that he said ‘This bright cartoon movie didn’t mention 9/11.’ Which he never said. But like many memes- people have lost the plot on what he actually said. And that’s kind of fucked up the conversation on what should have been something simple.

Another is that he’s overly negative and never says anything good, usually pointing to how he said he was cancelling Admirable Animations back in his Soul Episode in March 15th of 2021.

... This is factually incorrect. As in, no one ever looks into his videos. Because if you did- You would have seen that he made another Admirable Animation in May of 2022. And in between this timespan, he made four positive review (NES Zelda, Treasure Planet, Top 10 OK! Cartoons and Making Fiends). Even now, his most recent review is talking about the show Bluey as a positive thing. Yeah, he has more negative reviews than positive- notably bad things are in a higher quantity than notably good things. ANd even in Animated Atrocities, he will say good things about the subject if he feels it’s correct.

Next we have that he threatened the Spongbob writers. Which he did do. ... about a decade or so ago. And not once has he ever done something like this since. He’s even mocked himself for this multiple times. Which leads me to another point- That he doesn’t take criticism. Which is rather dumb, considering that he’s stopped editing his own videos and his copped up to a lot of his criticisms. Which is...more than I can say for most creators.

We also have the idea that he reinforces negative stereotypes about autistic people. While it is true autistic people get stereotyped as overly sensitive, blunt and overly angry...considering my own history and the shit I’ve seen certain other autistic people pull- I have to say that the stereotype will exist the exact same with or without him. It does admit to issues that people in this category can have.

And then we have the ‘He’s anti-woke/feminist/mask/whatever’. This is just political and I won’t dignify it with a response.

All in all, I feel like the people who shit on Enter more often than not are just as guilty as they accuse him of being, upset only because he did it in a way they didn’t like. Clown on him for Turning Red, he does deserve that. But stuff like the Spongebob writers bit is so old at this point and you really need to be accurate about this. Otherwise it just sounds like you bitching that he didn’t act the way you wanted him to. And trust me, that won’t help stop the problem whatsoever.

[uhohitsdorian]

Solace just cemented his position as third party member to physically strike Romar, the second to do so out of the unbridled fury he provokes, and also cemented his utter hatred of him! Great position to be in when you’re in a tight-knit party together and rely on each other to stay alive.

[Image: a digital comic drawn in black and grey, depicting a conversation between Romar, a strongly-built human man with a topknot, covered in tattoos, and Solace, a very gaunt drow in a heavy wool coat and hat. Romar stands, self-righteously delivering his point: “no, slaves are beasts of burden, they don’t have souls-“ He’s then cut off by Solace, gesturing in outrage with his walking cane in hand, who says, “so you mean to tell me that upon emancipation I was just suddenly bestowed one?!” Romar enthusiastically answers, “yes!” His face then contorts comically as the handle of the aforementioned cane is swung into it at speed. End ID.]

They then exchanged a few letters, after Solace recognised that he should nip his fury in the bud before Romar drove him to commit anything even more violent and impulsive, and stomped away to seethe on his own. Those are pretty amusing, and under the cut.

The first letter has no image, but its text read:

“Romar, I wanted to acknowledge having struck you with the handle of my cane. While I do not shirk responsibility for letting my temper get the better of my judgement, I also do not believe that you had no part in sufficiently and deliberately agitating it to such an extreme, and my opinions on yours remain in unchanged abhorrence. I cannot say I am inclined to like you in any great measure, and must admit that itself is a generous phrasing of the fact. I nonetheless owe you an apology; wanton violence is an unintelligent and ineffectual way to resolve disagreement, and I do not wish to be in truth or rumour the kind of man who resorts to it. Your words struck a nerve, and I faltered, and for that I am deeply ashamed and sorry. I do not need your forgiveness, but I do hope we can go forward from this incident in a gentlemanly manner. Yours finitely, Solace Petrichor.”

The second letter is a reply from Romar (which I was delighted to receive as an image from his player, my friend Chris):

[Image: the second letter. It’s typed to look handwritten, in elegant red text on aged-looking paper, with a bloodstain in a suspiciously similar red colour in the bottom right corner. It reads:

“Solace It is well understood that those that resort to violence as a last resort of debate know are only showing frustration in failure. It is clear that the realities I spoke were for you recognised as uncomfortable truths you were unable to reconcile between your emotion and intellect, which were clearly at odds with each other bringing on self hate. Unwilling to accept the truth you struck out for this I bear you only pity and no ill will. However, to suggest that my words were but trivial agitation, likened to the mercurial mistreats of Allva is a profound insult to my church and true faith Such an affront, as transgressions of others I have already recorded cannot be readily forgiven. Therefore at a future time when opportunity presents itself there is a debt in kind to be paid. Yours patiently Romar”

End ID.]

Solace was, understandably, only further perturbed. He then scrawled out a rebuttal, though never actually delivered it. (I hand-wrote his response, thoroughly charmed by the effort Chris had put into Romar’s.)

[Image: the third letter. It’s handwritten (digitally) on similarly aged-looking paper, with dark ink, in Solace’s near-incomprehensible scrawl. It reads as follows:

“Romar, I would like to congratulate you on earning the title of second-most infuriating man I’ve ever met. I understand now that a favour to you is not an exchange between equals, but a system of blackmail with which you lord power over your contemporaries at the excuse of showing toward them any feeblest action of goodwill, and indulge the sick fantasies revelling in the pit in your soul moulded in the negative image of conscience. Consider the favour I supposedly owe returned in the undue respect I have, up to this point, shown you. Consider it paid. Should I prove myself foolish enough to be found in your debt again, know that I will resign from this position by doing you the kindness of restoring any stolen symmetry to your face by striking it from the other side. Yours resentfully, Solace Petrichor.”

End ID.]

Solace balled up the letter and tossed it across the floor, hoping his temper would have been sufficiently caught in the words or creases to collect dust in tandem. Even through the red haze, he knew how futile it would be to deliver it, and that his straws would break long before the camel’s back. No, he told himself. Anger has no seat at this table. There is work to be done; waste not your oil on burning daylight. He leant back on the bed of the inn, conscious that he should be making the most of the chance to rest while there was still more than a couple inches of bedroll between his weary bones and the cold, callous earth. If he wanted to sleep so close to daisy roots, he’d do it grinning up at them from the solace of his grave. Familiar fragments of poignance swam in his mind. The stars were winking at him through the gap in the curtains, and the air outside had handled the evening as gently as its bitter chill could do. It would be foolish to waste such mercy on anything but appreciation. He drew his instrument and began, with masterful quiet, to tune it, and then to play, letting the feeling guide him along nebulous melodies and distant, glowing chords, charting through the fog to familiarity and meaning. Though it hung heavy in the air, he could feel it about to clear, and some ray of sunshine - however fleeting - waiting patiently to fall on him.

[backtothestart02]

Dr. Allen - 3/? | westallen fanfiction

A/N: It's been a minute since I've written this one, but a friend recently had a bday and apparently she's been dying for this one for quite some time. I hope anyone that's in a similar position will enjoy this update as well!

...

Chapter 3 -

The funeral took place two days later.

The church was full with everyone in town and the Allen family. Henry Allen chose to do the eulogy, since no one else in the family was brave enough to, and he wanted it to have a personal touch. By the time the service was over and the family was heading over to the cemetery, it had started to rain.

Not a wretched thunderstorm like two nights prior but a steady rain nonetheless. A tent was put up over the burial site for some coverage, but Caitlin and Barry still brought umbrellas to put over the younger children and Iris.

Barry was devastated and had been since his mother’s shocking death but for some reason found himself unable to cry. Iris had been weeping almost constantly the past two days, since Nora had been a second mother to her since she was a little girl. The other children cried too. Caitlin hadn’t been particularly attached, so she didn’t cry, but she’d had a high opinion of her mistress, so she was still sad. And Henry, the head of the household, held in his tears except for when he was alone. Someone had to be the strong one, and he’d decided early on that would be him.

Everyone placed a rose on the coffin, and Henry said a few parting words, as did Iris and Eddie and Caitlin. Barry couldn’t bring himself to, still too much in shock to even think of what words to say.

Iris reached for Barry’s hand to hold it, and he let her grasp it, but his hand felt cold and lifeless in hers, and she worried about him more than anyone else.

Days passed, and the Allen family tried to continue with their lives without their matriarch in it. Caitlin addressed her master instead of her mistress. Eddie seemed to have curled into himself and needed support from his Nana more than he had in years, even at age sixteen.

Barry was fine. He said he was fine. But Iris watched him like a hawk, spent time with him when he let her, and tucked her own wild emotions away as best as she could so something awful didn’t happen with her husband-to-be, if that was even what he was anymore.

They’d never told anyone that they were engaged that night, for good reason. Her engagement ring was hidden in a drawer in her room. She dared not put it on, except when she was alone. The promise of what could be between them seemed to be fading more with each passing day. And a month after his mother’s passing, he made an announcement at breakfast that stunned them all and filled Iris with dread more than ever.

“I’m still going to University this semester.”

Everyone set their silverware down. It was quite the clanging of forks and spoons on porcelain plates and bowls.

Iris reached for his hand as she spoke, but he conveniently reached for his glass at the same time to drink from it, and she was left empty-handed.

“Barry, do you really think tha-”

“I’ve already talked with father about it, and he’s given me his blessing to pursue schooling if I feel I’m able to succeed at this time. Which I do.”

Iris sunk into herself, no longer hungry.

“I leave in two days.”

Two days? Exactly a month from the funeral? Only one month? Wasn’t he still grieving? Didn’t he need distractions and comfort and warmth that came from family surrounding him? From her surrounding him? Not the isolation University would bring, the need to focus on assignments and class lectures and a new, strange environment.

But maybe that was what he wanted. Maybe he didn’t want her or any of them in his sights for a while. Maybe he couldn’t stand it.

Iris excused herself and got up to go to her room, where she cried, found the ring in the drawer, and hurled it across the room.

What good was it to her now?

He’d clearly forgotten all about her and them and wanted to get as far as possible away.

Sometime later, there was a light knock on the door.

“Iris? It’s me.” He paused. “Barry.”

She tried to hold in her sniffles, so maybe he’d think she was sleeping, but they slipped out anyway, and he opened the door without permission to find her sitting beside the bed, curled up, tears tracking down her face.

He almost stepped on the sparkling ring that had surprisingly not been damaged when it hit the wall and bounced back onto the floor.

He sighed and picked it up, carefully inspecting it before holding it tightly in his hand and closing the door before walking over to her. He sat beside her on the floor and eventually held the ring out to her, his palm laid flat before her.

“Wear it on a chain beneath your dress while I’m gone, as a reminder.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” she asked bitterly, and his brows furrowed.

“Of course. We must stick to the plan. I go to University for four years, and then we will marry. Just because Mother is…no longer here doesn’t mean we don’t continue with what we started. It’s what she would’ve wanted anyway. You know how she adored you.”

“And you,” Iris butted in, and he looked away.

“She loved all her children equally.”

Iris looked down at the ring that he still held out to her. She wanted to take it – of course she did, but something about the way he spoke now was so mechanical. There was no heart behind it. It was as if his emotions were caged up somewhere inside of him, and he would not let them free.

“Take it,” he urged.

“No,” she heard herself saying, and he looked at her in disbelief.

“You’ve changed your mind about me?” he asked.

“You don’t love me anymore,” her voice broke.

“What gave you that idea?” he asked, and for the first time his voice rose. He clutched the ring in his hand, no longer offering it to her.

“You did.”

“How? I never told you any different from the night I proposed.”

“That night is tainted now though, isn’t it? It’s the night before your mother died.”

His jaw clenched.

“That doesn’t change my feelings towards you.”

“What feelings?” she burst, getting up and putting some space between them. “You haven’t cried, you haven’t mourned, you haven’t grieved. How can you possibly feel love for me when you’ve completely shut yourself off to feeling anything at all?”

He got up and joined her in the middle of the room.

“We all grieve in our own way. Just because I don’t sob for hours the way you do…” He trailed off, seeing the hurt and anger in her eyes and knowing he was the cause behind it. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Do you want the damn ring or not?”

He held it out to her again.

She glared.

“No.”

His fingers curled around it, and he was about to leave when she continued.

“Not until I can see your heart again. I will not follow some methodical plan to get married simply because you refuse to feel. What kind of marriage would we have, void of feeling, of emotion, of love? I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

Silence stretched between them, and then—

“Fine,” he ground out. “Have it your way. Maybe I will meet another when I am away who will not find me as repulsive as you do.”

Her jaw dropped, but he’d flung the door open and walked through the opening before she could say another word. She shut it behind him and slid down the door, crying again.

Now she couldn’t even dream of what might’ve been between him because it didn’t exist at all. But at least whatever poor woman he convinced to marry him would know the emptiness she’d escaped.

He was not the man she’d fallen in love with. He wouldn’t let himself be. And until he was again, she wouldn’t be his.

…

Two days later, Barry was fully packed and ready to leave them all to go into the heart of the city for his continued education. He promised to be back for Christmas, and that he would write.

Iris’ eyes were downcast. She wouldn’t look at him. They hadn’t spoken since their huge blow-up in her bedroom. They didn’t even sit beside each other at the dinner table, because she took her food in her room, and she’d spent the last 48 hours cooped up there, crying, not sure if it was for Barry or his mother anymore.

“I will write,” he repeated, lingering where she stood, though she would still not spare him a glance. A tear trickled down her cheek despite her best efforts to subdue her aching sadness. “To all of you, I will write,” he said.

And then she looked up, and their eyes locked, and Iris wished everything could be different.

“Good luck, son, and God speed,” Henry said, shaking Barry’s hand with a firm grip and a reassuring thin smile.

“Thank you, father. I’ll be home soon.”

Then he climbed into the carriage awaiting him and gave them all one more glance before sinking into his seat.

That was the last time Iris saw him for four months.

[maryelizagreg]

Merry Halloween 🎃 👻

Same energy tbh

~le journal

I don’t understand anything except biochem to be honest. I’ve always been asked to be in these positions in life that I don’t really see myself in. Sometimes you just are what you are, ya know? I’m tired of everyone, needing to feel like you have to prove something just to be heard or have a seat at the table. But as Mathew mcghaunay says, “life isn’t fair.”

I’m just glad most days I’m not sitting in the position where the patient is, but I know one day I will be too.

I grow my garden alone at home because not many understand the peace I find in Jesus Christ.

It’s hard to explain what I’m feeling or going through, because… I dont feel this is a safe place for me to do so.

Others have told me I should write a book, or songs, but I’m tired. I’m burnt out. I’m worn out. I need reprieve.

People want to see me accumulate more awards and achieve more and go farther. But it requires support. I am human, too.

…. It’s not so much setting down I’m describing but quite the opposite. I don’t want anything or anyone in the way of how I do things, for any reason, ever. I don’t want to be told what to do, this isn’t the way that works for me.

I already know what’s in the book, so reading it over and over again while flipping through a power point is the equivalent of a bullet to the head. I try to make it less boring by getting into research, and health care policy, things of that nature-

But I see so much red tape, it’s like the world of medicine is closing in on itself, and by 2050 will be not only not sustainable but, close to nonexistent, at this rate.

Because money matters, and, there have been predictions, and there are things happening that are beyond physicians control.

Even if you *were* a billionaire the doors are still closed in many places, and you’ll never be able to correct the problems you want to see corrected in one life time.

The powerlessness and hopelessnesss I can’t help but notice, though I try my best to bury it with hyms and psalms.

I’m a very divided person, as we all are. Parts. Etc.

But yeah… there are emotional parts coming out of the woodwork, it’s beyond my control when… and to be frank it’s, I don’t want to say it’s destroying me but it’s more of a hindrance than anything though I have tried work arounds and levaraging it and perspective shifts etc “going through” made me lose my mind a bit

I’m torn between all these things that need to be done for my own success as an individual and putting my “gifts” to work and bringing this light in the world to fruition (though I try to just by being myself as much as one can.)

And… yeah, I’m torn between that- and, meeting my own needs as an individual/ which may be to slow down… to take a break… to live a smaller and more gentle life, where I’m not interrupted, with the things that … naturally happen

Im dissapointed that I responded negatively to the ocd medication

I’m tired of my parents not listening to me or not being heard by them

I’m tired of being quite and emotional and sensitive person and having no one to tell it to because I feel it’s not safe

I’m confused by my ups and downs, and don’t know what to make of it.

My dad wants to “see what’s best for me” and then, emotionally abuses me in the same breath. On a daily basis.

People are asking of things from me- putting pressure, to do now, be now, everything everything everything, perfection.

I can’t be forced into a box like this. This isn’t how individuals like me work best, everyone thinks they know what’s best for me

Meanwhile I’ve never had the chance to say what I really think or feel, about that subject.

This is extremely personal, to me so. I’d rather not anyone read this. But at the same time, I feel like I have to. Post something. So that the people who are waiting for me,,, to respond. Know that

This is just the place I’m in right now. I don’t want anyone to know. Like I’d prefer this be private. But, I have to provide some explanation as to why I’m a little… MIA? I hate to put it that way.

But it’s just because I’m a human being that’s all. And I really want acceptance, surrounding this notion. Understanding, etc. but it’s not often warranted, so. I just am trying to protect myself with this very like, tumultuous mental fragility I’m going through and, mmmm… to make sure I am… safe

I don’t feel safe, obviously. That’s a big part of the problem, I blame myself often for it but. Therapists insist… it’s not my fault. I’m just going through things mentally. So, that’s to name one. But there’s more so, I’m trying to, deal with this. And it can be quite cumbersome.

Hearing judgement on the other end for it… it can be isolating is maybe, a nice way to put it.

[n0v4r3d]

Improvise, adapt, overcome.

So, I haven’t kept up with this. At all. I went chronically, debilitatingly inward and found myself stuck at the bottom of a misery well, just staring up at the light above.

489 days today. So there’s that at least…

… and the great job, loving family, supportive friends… my best friend and companion Loki…

There is nothing to be genuinely upset over or dissatisfied with.

And yet:

I am overcome with pure hatred, animosity, and vitriol for this place at any moment of the day. My awareness of the absurdity of these feelings is not helping to alleviate it. I’ve taken myself off of social media and become more or less a curmudgeonly recluse, wallowing in my own discomfort as I remain painfully, brattily impatient for my exit.

I will have ended my time here with roughly a cumulative of five years in this place. And while I have certainly experienced joy in my life during that time, none of it is tied to here. I’ve done it in spite of it. And I have no one to blame but myself. What I’m taking away from this era of my life is that there are some profound lessons learned, being learned, and yet to be learned. And while some of them I have successfully intellectualized, some I am fighting against in an angsty rebuff, stemming from my unchecked emotions.

It’s bizarre. I’m sober and have an “on paper” good life. Stability. So much to look forward to. Support. And yet, despite starting every day with a vast helping of gratitude, by noon, I’m back in my hole. “Head like a hole,” indeed, Mr. Reznor… The good news is that there’s still no conditions under which I will ever pick up a drink again. I have solidified that. I remain vigilant, but each day is another piece of evidence as to why I do it, strengthening the will. As morbid as it is to say, I have an agreement between me, myself, and I that if I really wanted out, I’d have to go through with it sober. And a sober mind holds infinitely more clarity than to act on passive suicidal ideation. Intrusive thoughts more than anything. An annoyance, not a premonition.

I don’t know why, on the cusp of actualizing everything I’ve ever wanted out of life (for the most part), I’m so wildly frenzied and uncomfortable. I feel like a cornered animal knowing the only way out is to fight. But there is no external threat. It’s all in my head. I’ve never known hatred like this. And I don’t even know that’s really directed at anything at all. It’s so vague and nebulous. Just waiting. And waiting and waiting and waiting.

But the wait is what’s driving me to madness. It feels as though my capacity for positivity is on pause until I escape. I refuse to go down the path of direct resentment and blame people, places, and things for my attitude. It’s all in my own head, I know this. But the emotion connected to it simply won’t soften. It’s fucking exhausting. Distraction is my best tool right now and, quite frankly, there isn’t much here to do the trick for any meaningful length of time.

Writing all of this out sounds so harsh and misery-prone, but it’s the catharsis I need. Typing out each word, thought, or feeling, no matter how meandering, brings me relief and allows me to see how so much of what I feel is a false narrative inside my own mind. It’s always been a battle with myself and, for the first year, I felt I was winning. The evidence strongly suggests I still am… yet I get lost in these emotional spikes. Being a human being can be a lot tougher than it seems sometimes. Simplify, simplify, simplify. That’s my goal. Do no harm? Too late. But onward and upward is inevitable so long as I remain patient, perseverant, committed, open, and willing.

I am not a bad person. I have done things that disgust me. I have had negative thoughts and associations. I’ve spent a long time hating myself. But I am not these things. I am how I choose to act. And it’s high time to stop wishing for better and instead make it so.

I hope we all achieve the level of peace we seek. Right now, I’m not 100% certain what that actually looks like. But I’m going to keep striving for it. I’ve been there before and I’ll get there again. It’s OK. Everything is in its right place. Maybe belief is just another choice… but I do choose to believe. Hope is what I survive on. And I cannot ever give it up. 

JS

[07.05.24]

[redpillfuturist215]

My final planned major futurist post

This is the final major futurist post I plan on sharing on any social media, here on Tumblr taking out key personal things since as far as I know, no friend follows me here. On Facebook I will separate them, not shared there yet, but here they are in a single post. Below is just text so before we begin, here’s the major one I made with supporting links https://redpillfuturist215.tumblr.com/post/676094553119490048/futurism-esp-human-immortality-and-time-travel This next series of posts are the last things I plan on talking about anything futurism in this timeline, extremely watered down because 1 there’s no point to ever share anything unless I know definitively, I’ll be able to achieve said objectives which brings me to 2 resulting in having the power to be untouchable by anyone who might want to prevent me from doing so. I’m sharing a few more ideas, just for relevancy though. As I mentioned before, per my childhood trauma and high ACE score (4 or more takes away 20 years on average) combined with black people and esp. men already having the lowest lifespan of Americans I’ll be lucky to make it to 50-ish, a realization I made last year Two contingencies in soft planning Cryopreservation through the Alcor Life Extension Foundation – setting up legal, savings/investments, a life insurance policy etc. My own organization with a simple objective of one day going back and providing immortality to the founder, all employees and their designees I had another recent revelation that one day future technology should allow us to live out secondary lives through an infinite number of “avatars” through which, among other things, several will be positioned to befriend my original timeline friends and make new ones. The majority of my OG friends can never know my true identity, only 3 will have that privilege. If successful, as much as it sucks, I can’t change the early stuff because it’s what motivates me to enact this plan in the first place, but I can accelerate things. In such a new timeline I would get red pilled in summer 2013 and fake my death in 2014 shortly after getting out of the army. He will get a new body and identity followed by real therapy and the love/family structure he deserves, initially provided by other versions of me because another brutal red pill I’ve taken in the darkest of years is that no one will love me more than me. Aside from that, I was such a huge indoctrinated/mental slave to these abusive gaslighting black female relatives (Stockholm syndrome, at times desperately seeking sympathy from) and to a degree am still struggling with and it’s something only a real man can rescue me from, of which future versions of me will be … militantly, prehistorically, unapologetically. Taking it back One of these will look out for me minimally from childhood (financially, transport, try to keep me from doing feminine ass shit in my youth and invade people’s privacy, prevent me from youthful fuckups including criminal behavior and turn me into a more squared away soldier (particularly for combat) and prevent mistakes I made down range too. Yes I have a list. Some remote telepathic manipulation will also be employed. Another important reason for taking advantage of alternate me’s is to have some of them take the burden off OG me, IE prevent me from acting out my sexual trauma to spare me from that, again/as always, without OG knowing their true identities. I chose this as a workaround because the actions more or less still take place, so the memories are still created (futurist motivation), they’ll just later be telepathically shared with OG. Why fake my suicide at the end of 2014? Because aside from “having the honor to fulfill my duty”, my POS mom will then be living alone (old, poor, powerless) and while I know enough now to know she doesn’t truly give a shit about me (single mother psychology, I’m just an emotional and financial husband substitute) I want her to suffer. It’s not worth mentioning in CTL but from the 90’s onward she will be chronically fucked with in ever increasing levels as she ages. Future me’s will revel in it. Every act of abuse, threats, gaslighting etc. (of any timeline) will be retaliated against by future me’s in my final act. An eye for an eye, esp. the sexual mutilation/facilitation and turning a blind eye of rape then leaving me in the dark and gaslighting me when I confronted them, mocking and ridiculing me, shedding crocodile tears. To truly be fair, it should happen to them as a child but I fear that might fuck up their capacity to date/love which at least in the case of my so called mother could lead to me never being born. Per my so called family’s long history of animal abuse and neglect, from 2000 onward whatever resources and force necessary will be used to keep pets out of their home. Recognizing how stupid I once was, this is a temporal directive I made for friendship It’s important to understand that 1 The powers that be deliberately hide information from and indoctrinate you 2 Once indoctrinated as a child, it’s incredibly hard to break from