#page 451

[pesterloglog]

Sollux Captor, John Egbert

Page 447-454

SOLLUX: eating a sandwich.

JOHN: what? no, i mean, what are you doing HERE in the meteor?

SOLLUX: i live here.

SOLLUX: its like im fated t0 wind up back at this idi0tic r0ck every c0uple 0f sweeps.

JOHN: i’m... sorry?

JOHN: ...

SOLLUX: real mess y0uve made 0f things 0ut there.

JOHN: yeah, well... we’re trying to fix that now! which is why I need to find my friends!

SOLLUX: kind 0f fucked up y0u guys let this happen t0 begin with.

JOHN: soooo anyway, on the topic of you living here...

JOHN: does roxy know about this???

SOLLUX: why w0uldnt she?

JOHN: huh.

JOHN: umm... how do you know her?

SOLLUX: wh0 d0 y0u think h00ked me up with these sick ass shades and gave me all these ape games.

JOHN: okay, that kind of makes sense, i guess.

JOHN: ...

JOHN: are you guys... close?

SOLLUX: wh0. me and r0xy? i guess. we squad up a c0uple times a week.

SOLLUX: why d0 y0u care?

SOLLUX: y0u w0rried im m0ving in 0n y0ur ex?

JOHN: ...hmm.

SOLLUX: ...

JOHN: hm. hmm. hm.

JOHN: hm? HMMMM.

SOLLUX: what is g0ing 0n here.

JOHN: sorry, i had an answer but then i started actually considering it.

JOHN: am i jealous?

JOHN: hmmm...

SOLLUX: if i tell y0u straight up n0 we arent h00king up will y0u st0p?

JOHN: ...maybe?

SOLLUX: g0ddammit.

SOLLUX: listen.

SOLLUX: c0ming fr0m s0me0ne wh0 has shared breathing space with y0u 0nly 0n 0ccasi0n.

SOLLUX: its 0bvi0us t0 me y0u're n0t supp0sed t0 be the thinking guy.

JOHN: we’ve met before?

SOLLUX: ...

JOHN: ??????

SOLLUX: sigh.

SOLLUX: pirate ship. d0uble eye-patches. girlfriend ascensi0n.

JOHN: :0!

JOHN: double eye patches!

JOHN: i remember you now, you were at mystery jade’s funeral too!

SOLLUX: sure.

JOHN: sorry for not recognizing you.

JOHN: the eye patches are pretty distracting!

JOHN: like every time i see them i have to stop and think...

JOHN: wow... that looks really really stupid!

SOLLUX: yeah.

JOHN: are you still hanging out with that creepy alive girl?

SOLLUX:

SOLLUX: 0n a spiritual level.

JOHN: cool!

JOHN: is ... she also dating roxy?

SOLLUX: what?

SOLLUX: idk.

SOLLUX: i d0nt make it my business t0 keep tabs 0n that.

SOLLUX: im busy.

JOHN: you’re gaming!

SOLLUX: im fucking gaming.

SOLLUX: speaking 0f which...

JOHN: so what were you guys up to before this?

SOLLUX: (what the fuck)

SOLLUX: is there a prer0gative here.

SOLLUX: are y0u spades baiting me right n0w?

JOHN: honestly i don’t know what that means.

JOHN: i suppose...

JOHN: how do i say this...

JOHN: contextually!

JOHN: i always find myself going to a lot of places and meeting all these people but.

JOHN: most of it never matters to me until i’m not doing anything at all.

JOHN: last time that happened it was for ten years!

JOHN: and it only changed because i started talking to people again.

SOLLUX: (i did this t0 myself why did i ask)

JOHN: i guess in gamer terms it's the same as screwing yourself over by not checking every non playable character dialogue box.

JOHN: any one of them could have the clues you need.

SOLLUX:

JOHN: sooooo...

SOLLUX:

JOHN: come on!

SOLLUX: c0me 0n! :B

SOLLUX: die.

JOHN: aw, don’t be like that dude.

JOHN: i promise no more questions after this.

JOHN: do you not want to because it just ...isn't important?

SOLLUX: excuse me.

SOLLUX: my vestigial digits get m0re imp0rtant shit d0ne 0n wednesday nights than y0ur ill dressed b0dy has d0ne y0ur entire life cycle.

SOLLUX: but im n0t g0ing t0 g0 int0 all that because 1. i d0nt kn0w y0u and 2. i d0 n0t respect y0u.

SOLLUX: itll 0nly make y0u feel bad anyways.

JOHN: why would it make me feel bad?

SOLLUX: i can smell it 0n y0u man.

SOLLUX: y0u stink.

JOHN: i stink?

SOLLUX: yeah.

SOLLUX: y0u smell like a guy.

SOLLUX: wh0se never had any bitches.

JOHN: what!

JOHN: i have a son! i have a house full of pictures with him!

JOHN: that is physical proof i have had “bitches” thank you!

SOLLUX: as s0me0ne wh0 has been friends with every w0man y0u are attempting t0 categ0rize int0 this

SOLLUX: i can assure y0u, they were n0t y0ur bitches.

SOLLUX: y0u were theirs.

JOHN: i

JOHN: i was the bitches?

SOLLUX: this was the missing puzzle piece r0xys ex.

SOLLUX: y0ur arc is 0ver.

SOLLUX: y0u can g0 h0me n0w.

JOHN: my home burned down.

SOLLUX: sad.

SOLLUX: y0u kn0w what is tragic th0ugh?

SOLLUX: i have n0t been able t0 play this game the wh0le time because s0me0ne was talking 0ver the s0und.

JOHN: oh!

JOHN: sorry : (

SOLLUX: w0rds d0nt mean much.

SOLLUX: 0nly acti0ns.

JOHN: well, i suppose i left the vriskas waiting long enough...

JOHN: see you eye patches...

SOLLUX: n0t wearing them.

JOHN: or not who knows!

SOLLUX: WAIT.

JOHN: !

SOLLUX: change my game f0r me.

[dirt-and-scrivles]

Sketch page of buggys

(Less colors bc the half tones are kinda fucking up)

[kerryweaverlesbian]

Thinking about young Charlie and young Bela meeting in juvie or some sort of delinquent youth rehabilitation programme that they chose instead of juvie. Maybe in the same foster home but I prefer people's actions to guide them to meeting people rather than happenstance. They're around the same age, this could work. 16 year old "I'm going to hack the pentagon but I can't lie in person to save my life" Charlie and 17 year old "I'm the most charming person in the room but I have no friends" Bela working together to...something. Right some sort of wrong against each of them. Maybe Charlie needs some paperwork she can't access without Bela's help to send money across for her mom's medical expenses (this would be 2001, hacking can only get you so far) and maybe Bela wants a forged american citizen ID.

2 girls who nobody cares about, with no contacts, no safety net and everything to lose choosing to help each other because no one else will. With an air of bittersweetness over the whole thing because we know that they lose contact.

(Until of course the epilogue where Jo brings her new femme fatale girlfriend to the Harvelle-Winchester Friends and Family Christmas and Charlie and Bela point at each other like 🤯🤩🥹)

[azure-clockwork]

How Does it Feel to Read Classic Sci-Fi?

Orson Scott Card: Two of the most interesting books you’ll ever read if you’re willing to look past a handful of things. And then you find the planet of Chinese people who worship having debilitating OCD. And the Mormonism. And the fact that the author is wildly homophobic and ought to read his own books.

Robert Heinlein (or at least the Wikipedia Summaries): I guess that’s a neat concept—oh, it’s a sex thing. Um. Gotcha.

Ray Bradbury: Man, I gotta read this thing for class huh. Well here’s hoping it’s good! *three hours later* oh. that’s why he’s famous. this will stick with me forever and I will never look at the phrase ‘soft rain’ the same again. christ. And then repeat 3x.

Isaac Asimov: Wow, this is such an interesting concept! I wonder how the exploration of it will influence the plot! Wait, hey, are you going to add any characters? Any of em? No like, with character traits other than ‘robot psychologist’ and ‘autistic’ and ‘woman’? None of em? No, ‘detective’ isn’t a character trait. Those are all just facts. Aaaand now I’m bored.

Ursula K. Le Guin: Hah, get a load of this guy! He’s never heard of nonbinary people before. Lol, what a riot; how dumb do you have to be to comprehend that these people aren’t men *or* women actually? Oh, wait, what’s happening. Oh shit, it was about society and love and learning to understand each other? And now I’m crying? And perhaps a better human being for it??

Andy Weir: Alright, this guy’s a really good writer. Funny, creative, knows so much engineering stuff…ooh, a new book! …I guess he can’t write women. Well, he wouldn’t be the first sci-fi writer…ooh another new book! And it’s more engineering problem solving and—wow. It’s not just women he can’t write. Please stop letting your characters talk to each other.

Lois Lowry: Oh, I remember this being fun when I was a kid! Wouldn’t it be fucked up to not see color? …upon reread, it would be fucked up to have your humanity stripped away, replaced with a tepid, beige ‘happiness’ for all time. Yeah.

Tamsyn Muir (let me have this ok): Haha, “lesbian necromancers in space” sounds fun. Lemme read this. Oh wow, yeah, this is right up my alley. OH GOD WHAT. NO. FUCK. OH SHIT WHAT IS EVEN HAPPENING AND WHY IS IT REFERENCING THE BOOK OF RUTH AND HOMESTUCK BACK TO BACK!!! AHHHHHHHHH!! Now give me more please.

[louiswilliamtomlinsons]

it’s not cold today so i’m going outside to read six of crowds and get some fresh air

[snowymarbles]

Doing a project that is requiring me to draw so here’s some concepts for it :)

[wowitsverycool]

ray bradbury was so great at prose and character motivations and relationships why did he have to be so insufferable </3

[glass-expanse]

Just discovered "playing instrument while walking back through good story". effervescent.

[ghst-jpg]

another day, another book published in tiny as shit font size so it can be less than 200 pages

[zuter]

do not read a book written by a man in the 50s and 60s with goodreads reviews describing it as jungian i repeat so not read a book written by a man in the 50s and 60s with goodreads reviews describing it as jungian

[robertreich]

Project 2025: The MAGA Plan to Take Your Freedom 

A second Trump term would be more dangerous than the first — in part because of something called Project 2025, a plan to extend Trump’s grip into every part of your life.

Trump’s gross incompetence in his first term wasn’t all bad. It kept some of his most extreme goals out of reach. That’s why his inner circle, including more than 20 officials from his first term, have written a step-by-step playbook to make a second term brutally efficient.

At nearly a thousand pages, it’s longer than most Stephen King novels, and a lot scarier. The Associated Press wasn’t kidding when they called it “a plan to dismantle the US government and replace it with Trump’s vision,”

Project 2025 is a road map to ban abortion, give greedy corporate oligarchs everything they want, and strip Americans of our most basic freedoms — all without needing any support from Congress.

There’s more to it than I can get into, but here are three things I want you to know.

#1 How would Project 2025 work?

Every nonpartisan government agency would be turned into an arm of the MAGA agenda.

Some of the worst things Trump reportedly tried to do as president — like having the military  shoot protesters or seize voting machines to overturn the election  — were only stopped because sensible leaders in the military or the professional civil service refused to go along with it.

In a second term, there would be no sensible leaders in the military or professional civil service because Trump would fire anyone more loyal to the Constitution than to him.

Trump started the process in October 2020 with an executive order that would have let him fire tens of thousands of civil servants and replace them with MAGA henchmen. I’m talking about traditionally non-political positions, like scientists at scientific agencies and accountants at the IRS.

Trump could not act on the executive order then because he lost the election. If he wins now, he’s pledged to pick up where he left off and go further…

TRUMP: …making every executive branch employee fireable by the President of the United States.

#2 Project 2025 is about controlling Americans’ lives & bodies

Restricting abortion is such a big part of Project 2025 that the word “abortion” appears 198 times in the plan.

Trump largely made good on his campaign promise to ban abortion.

Thanks to Trump’s Supreme Court justices, 1 in 3 American women of childbearing age live in states with abortion bans. Project 2025 would make that even worse, without needing new laws from Congress.

Page 458 of the playbook calls for a MAGA-controlled FDA to reject medical science and reverse approval of the medications used in 63% of all abortions, effectively banning them.

Page 455 plans “abortion surveillance” and the creation of a registry that could put people who cross state lines to get an abortion at risk of prosecution.

Another way around Congress is to enforce arcane laws that are still technically on the books. Page 562 plans for a MAGA-controlled Justice Department to enforce the Comstock Act of 1873, which bans the mailing of “anything designed, adapted, or intended for producing abortion.” This could be used to block the shipment of any medications or medical instruments needed for abortions.

But Project 2025’s control of American families goes even further. It plans for government agencies to define life as beginning at conception — a position at odds with the process used for in vitro fertilization.

Page 451 declares that “Families comprised of a married mother, father, and their children are the foundation of a well-ordered nation and healthy society,” thereby stigmatizing single parents, same-sex couples, unmarried coparents, and childless couples.

Project 2025 even takes a stand against adoption, declaring on p. 489 that “all children have a right to be raised by the men and women who conceived them.”

#3 Project 2025 would turn America into a police state.

Maybe you live in a blue city or state, where you think plans like arresting teachers and librarians over banned books (which is on p. 5) could never happen. Well, guess again.

Trump has said one of the big things he’d do differently in a second term is override mayors and governors to take over local law enforcement.

Page 553 lays out how to do this, and even plans for Trump’s Justice Department to prosecute district attorneys he disagrees with.

Immigration enforcement is to be conducted like a war, with the military deployed within the U.S., and millions of undocumented immigrants rounded up and placed into newly constructed holding camps. This is outlined starting on p. 139.

Members of the Project 2025 team also reportedly told the Washington Post about plans to invoke the Insurrection Act to deploy the military against anti-Trump protests.

There is much more to Project 2025. There are more than a hundred pages of anti-environmental policies that would help Trump make good on what he reportedly promised to do for oil executives if they contribute a billion dollars to his reelection. It would make drilling and mining a top national priority while killing clean energy projects, barring the EPA from regulating carbon emissions, and replacing all government climate scientists with climate deniers.

There are even cartoonishly cruel plans like slaughtering wild horses. Yes, that’s really in there on p. 528.

I thought I understood the stakes of this election, but reading this plan… Well, it gave me chills. If Trump gets the chance to put this plan into place, he will. The country it would turn America into would be hard for any of us to recognize.

[revasserium]

burn

umemiya hajime; 3,307 words; mostly fluff, tiny bit of angst, young/freshman!umemiya, pre-canon events, lapslock, no "y/n", librarian!reader, childhood friends to lovers, vague ref to ch. 152, ume is a dumbdumb

summary: "it's a pleasure to burn" - ray bradbury, fahrenheit 451

a/n: am i writing umemiya now? who knows. this takes place 2 years before wbk manga events (the first year ume&co are in boufuurin) so pls excuse the slightly ooc ume...

001. the art of war

the library is entirely your idea.

“mah… you’d have to be the one to keep track of all the books though,” umemiya says, grinning as he watches you stock the shelves, your hair twisted up into a messy bun, your arm straining to reach the top-most shelf with a bundle of paperbacks with fraying covers and broken-in spines.

“of course i would! it’s not like there’s anyone else here i’d trust with that.” you turn to fix him with a stare that is already too “librarian-like” and he laughs, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied sigh.

“okay then, consider me your first patron! gimme something to read,” umemiya says, smiling wide as you narrow your eyes. your lips twitch up at the ends — it’s a familiar movement, an unconscious gesture, but one that’s plagued his all sleepless nights and most of his endless days.

“well…” you say, drawing out the word as you slowly saunter towards him, propping your hands on your hips as you pull level with the table in front of him, “what do you want to read?”

“anything you’d wanna lend me,” he says easily.

“boo, that’s such a boring answer,” you shoot back, shifting to press your hip against the edge of the table, crossing your arms as you turn to look back at the half-erected shelves.

you don’t see the way umemiya’s eyes flicker down to the bend of your waist, or the way he licks his lips as he tracks the plush of your thigh as you move to hoist yourself onto the desk, balancing on the edge.

he swallows, clearing his throat, trying not to think about the strange, burgeoning signs of growing up pestering you both at this vital juncture (just last week, his voice had cracked so hard you’d laughed at him for a whole hour straight; and the week before that, he’d almost rammed into a telephone poll watching you jog down the flight of stairs that leads to your tiny apartment).

“then maybe reading a few books will make me not so boring, hm?”

you roll your eyes, hopping off the table to comb through the handful of books. umemiya lets out an internal sigh of relief, feeling the heat in his cheeks recede ever so slightly as you disappear behind one of the taller shelves.

“here. let’s start with this.”

you pop out from behind the shelf, lobbing a thin volume towards him; he catches it out of reflex and stares at the cover.

“the art of war…?”

you grin, all cheek and no shame, “yeah. i mean… fits, doesn’t it? aren’t you starting at boufuurin next week?” you blink before turning back to look around at the small, abandoned storage facility, tucked between a ramen shop and what used to be a dollar store. there’s half a dozen dusty shelves, a few cabinets along the walls, and even a small stepladder that touma had dug out of the back closet for you.

at fifteen, you’re probably the smartest person he knows (and the prettiest, but that’s neither here nor there); at fifteen, umemiya hajime is an iron-wrought confluence of teenage ambition with big ideas and even bigger dreams (who doesn’t have time for things like crushes or girls… really).

“yeah,” umemiya runs a finger along the cover of the little book and flips to a random page, his eyes catching on the line —

the greatest victory is that which requires no battle at all.

002. pedro reyes

three weeks later, he stumbles back with two black eyes and a matching pair of bleeding knuckles.

“that book you lent me?” he says, dropping into a chair with a groan, “kinda bullshit.”

you make a half-startled, half-annoyed noise as you hurry over, setting down an armful of magazines to lean over and look at his face.

“what the hell happened?”

umemiya winces as you reach out to wipe a trickle of blood from his cheek.

“couple of fights — tough ones, but… well, i’m still here, aren’t i?” he says, managing a lopsided grin even as you tut, hurrying away to grab a first aid kit, returning with a warm, wet cloth and a scowl on your face.

“i thought you had a plan,” you say, unable to keep the acid from your voice.

umemiya groans as you press the damp cloth to his bloodied fingers, watching as you wipe each one down, the shocking white of the towel slowly darkening until it’s stained and blotchy with red.

“yeah. i did — punch everyone out till i get to the top.”

you tsk, frown deepening even as he shifts forward to let you wipe at the wounds on his face.

“pretty sure that’s not what sun tzu suggests,” you say, dabbing some kind of cooling gel to a cut right below his eye.

“sun tzu’s never had to deal with the guys at boufuurin.”

you roll your eyes, sighing before pulling back, “there’s an article i read today —” you jerk your head back towards the stack of magazines, “about an artist in mexico.”

“yeah?”

umemiya closes his eyes and lets you do the slow, diligent work of bandaging up his knuckles, one by one.

“he took a bunch of illegal weapons the government had confiscated and melted them down — pistols, knives, shotguns — and made them into musical instruments instead.”

the quiet that follows is thick and steady as churned butter. you don’t look up, your eyes still trained on the careful task of bandaging umemiya’s fingers.

he shifts, pulling closer, his breath fanning out warm against your cheek.

“do you know how hot a fire has to be in order to melt metal?” you ask after another brief silence, finally lifting your eyes as you finish with his hands.

umemiya cocks an eyebrow, “how hot?”

“about 2,700 degrees, fahrenheit.”

umemiya whistles below his breath, “sounds hot.”

“it is. at that temperature, you can apparently force a weapon to forget that it’s a weapon, to remake it into something new — something that wasn’t made to take lives… but to give it instead.”

you wrap your fingers around his, your skin contrasted against the dark blossom of bruises.

umemiya feels his smile slash into something jagged, lopsided and sharp.

“then… i guess that’s how hot i’ll have to burn to turn this whole place around.”

003. grey’s anatomy

looking back, umemiya wonders if that’s the night he changed — the night that you’d held onto his hands as if they were something precious.

he looks up the melting point of metal and the story of the artist in mexico. he thinks about what it must feel like to turn a pistol into a flute, to be the one to teach it to hold a note instead of a bullet —

he stares down at his bandaged hands, feels the dull ache in his muscles and wonders.

once, he remembers when the pair of you were still kids, hollow and lonely and full of a childish rage at the indifferent world — how you’d laughed as he pushed you on a neighborhood swing, but cried when he knocked a guy’s front teeth our for asking where your parents were.

and a week later, he’d found you hidden under the jungle gym with a tomb of a book clutched in your hands. the air had been damp with thunder, the sky grey and electric.

you’d looked up at him with bright eyes, holding out a closed fist —

“ume! did you know that the human heart is the same size as a fist?”

he remembers crawling under the jungle gym to squeeze in beside you, elbow to elbow, hip to hip, peering at the opened book, at the page with a diagram of the human body an all it’s labeled parts.

“oh, cool.”

he’d held up his own fist then, and stared, feeling the beat of his heart reverberating through his chest. he wonders if you can hear it when you’re pressed this close; he wonders, if the sky weren’t breaking apart above you, if he’d be able to hear your heartbeats too.

“isn’t it strange?” you’d asked, leaning over to bump your fist against his.

“what’s strange?” he hadn’t pulled away; neither had you.

your hand relaxes then, fingers loosening till he can see the blood rush back into their tips, tinting them pink. you’d turned your hand and placed it over his still-closed one and squeezed.

“that… a heart and a fist are the same size but… they weren’t made to beat the same.”

004. romeo & juliet

“he loves you, y’know.”

you look up from the makeshift front desk.

tsubaki is sitting with their legs crossed on one of the tables, arms propped on either side of their hips.

“library’s not open for another few days,” you say by way of an answer.

“it’s nice,” tsubaki says, looking around, “you did a good job with it.”

“thanks.”

they hop off the table to peer down one of the aisles of books — all the shelves now labeled with your loopy handwriting, the books clustered by a loose combination of genre, authorship, and spine-coloration.

“it’ll be good for us,” tsubaki’s voice is slightly muted by the layers and layers of books, but the click of their heeled boots rings sharp against the smooth linoleum floors, “having a library — the pen being mightier than the sword, and all.”

they’re smiling when they finally come back around the last row, fingers linked behind their back.

“that’s the hope, anyway,” you say, lips pulling into a wane smile.

you glance up and your eyes catch on the bandage at the edge of tsubaki’s lips, the dark stain at the collar of their otherwise impeccable uniform.

sighing, you run a hand along a yet-unsorted stack of books, shaking your head.

“we’re too young to know anything about love,” you answer, finally.

tsubaki joins you, bending down to pick up the first book at the top of the pile, waving it in the air with a rueful grin.

“i think romeo & juliet would beg to differ.”

you bite your lips, “you know that’s a tragedy, right?”

tsubaki shrugs, “sure, but… wasn’t it beautiful while it lasted anyway?”

you don’t have an answer, and instead, tsubaki giggles, tapping the top of your head with the book.

“can i borrow this? i promise i’ll return it!”

you wave them away with a soft smile.

“that’s kind of how a library works.”

005. fight club

“how long have you been here?”

you jerk up, your entire body screaming with the movement after having been still for so long.

“ume —! you’re awake!” you nearly collapse by the hospital bedside, dropping your head into the pristine white sheets.

above you, umemiya makes a choked off sound somewhere between a cough and a laugh, his hand coming up to pat your head. you melt into the feel of him, the weight and warmth of his fingers as he treads them through your hair.

“where’s —”

“they left — all of them,” you say, lifting your head slowly, “takishii and endo and… all of them.”

umemiya frowns, his hand stilling for a second, “what do you mean?”

you shrug, pulling back till you’re curled up in the bedside seat once more, tugging your knees up into your chest.

“after the fight, they just… picked up and left.”

“so… i lost,” umemiya’s voice is soft.

you shake your head, “no.”

he frowns, “but that’s —”

“you knocked each other out at the same time — it was technically —” your voice snags in your throat as you remember the grizzly scene before you, the crimson sprays of blood, the dirt damp beneath them, their uniforms torn into dark ribbons, the rooftop howling with a savage, winter wind.

“a tie,” umemiya says in a flatlined voice, reaching up and covering his eyes with his arm.

“right.”

you clear your throat, reaching for the tall glass of water on the bedside table.

“here — drink,” you hold the water out to him. he takes it wordlessly and drains nearly the entire glass. you watch, silent, as a drop of liquid trails down his jaw and trickles into the bandages at this throat.

your eyes cut away as he grins, smacking his lips and setting the water glass down.

“ah — that feels much better!”

you’re quiet, sitting vulturine still, refusing to meet his gaze.

umemiya finally slumps back to stare at the ceiling.

“you’re mad at me.”

“i’m not.”

“we’e known each other our whole lives, i know when you’re mad —”

“i’m scared, okay?” there’s a thin, unsteady quiver to the tenor of your voice as your head snaps back up. it’s then that he notices your fingers curled into fists at your sides.

“s-scared? of what? takiishi and endo are gone — you said so your—”

“of you!”

umemiya blinks and feels the blood in his extremities going cold, and for a second, he’s not sure if he accidentally dislodged his iv drip.

the look on your face is inscrutable, anger and uncertainty, but most of all — fear. something about that look makes his stomach curdle inside him.

“i —” he tries to find something to say but nothing else comes out. there’s no excuse, no explanation. he searches you eyes for a tether, for a spark of that familiar warmth and finds none.

slowly, you soften back into the seat and turn to stare out the window.

“it’s not like i’ve never seen you fight… and i’ve never liked it but this…” you bite down on your bottom lip, “it was like… you turned into someone else. someone i didn’t recognize.”

“i’m… i’m sorry.”

you swallow, still not looking at him, your eyes flickering down to your own hands, now lying limply in your lap.

“and then i thought — what if i did this? i — i had to go and make that stupid metaphor about the metal and the melting and —”

at this, umemiya laughs, reaching out to tug you closer. the ease with which he does so startles a hiccup out of you.

“you don’t really think i went and fought like that because of an article about a dude in mexico, do you?”

you purse your lips, cheeks going blotchy with heat. umemiya reaches forward to squeeze your nose, making you jerk back.

“dummy,” he chides, grinning now from ear to ear, but his smile falters slightly as he takes your hands in his, “i’m sorry that i scared you. promise i won’t do it again.”

“hn.” you don’t make to pull away, and umemiya takes that as permission to tug you into his chest, wrapping both arms around you. he buries his face in your hair and breathes in, out, in —

“hm… you really think you have that much power over me?” umemiya asks, a wanton sort of amusement underlying his voice as he finally lets you go, if only to revel in the way your cheeks flood with color.

“shut up! i was — i was freaked out and you were unconscious and i —”

“cause you do.”

your words cut off as abruptly as a dropped call.

umemiya chuckles, scratching at the back of his head, ruffling up his already pillow-mussed hair.

“been meaning to tell you but… i figured you already knew — “ and for once, he sounds his age — young and halting and shy.

after a breath that feels like a century, you finally break into a helpless fit of laughter.

“i can’t believe it…” you say, burying your face in your hands.

“can’t… believe what?” umemiya blinks at you.

“that it took you nearly dying for you to admit that you liked me.”

“hey! in case you haven’t noticed, i’ve been kinda busy this year!”

you roll your eyes, “yeah, yeah — had to go save the world first. then you get to kiss the girl, right? end movie, roll credits.”

umemiya cocks his head, “well, i dunno about the world but definitely — wait, what did you say about kissing me?”

you crinkle your nose, “i didn’t.”

“yeah you did.”

“i did not — i was just making a general statement about cliches in superhero movies —”

“oh, so you think i’m a superhero?”

“ume! stop it — mph!”

later, umemiya would recall fondly to anyone who will listen that yeah, he does get to kiss the girl after all.

006. fahrenheit 451

“451,” you say, standing at the door of the newly minted makochi library.

it’s dark outside, and umemiya stands by your side, stretching his arms over his head with a wide yawn.

“huh?”

“451 degrees,” you say again, turning to press a small silver lighter into his hands. he stares owlishly at it before looking back at you, clearly at a loss.

“that’s how hot it has to be for paper to catch fire.”

umemiya stares.

“i was thinking,” you say, turning back to the dark, but pristine library.

“uh-oh — oof — ow!” umemiya makes a show of clutching his side as you jerk your elbow back for another blow. he dodges out of your way with a dopey grin.

you sigh, turning back to the library, “but i was thinking that… there’s gotta be a better way — an easier way, right?”

this time, he stays quiet to let you speak.

“because yeah, it’d be nice to melt all the weapons in the world and turn them all into nicer things but… there’s a better way to do things.”

“yeah? and what’s that?” umemiya turns the lighter around and around in his palm.

you turn and head for the door, locking it behind you. the moonlight washes your skin in a ghostly silver as you turn to face him.

“we rewrite the story,” you say.

umemiya flicks on the lighter and lets the fire dance between them. his breath catches on the liquid gold in your eyes.

“is… that even possible?” he asks.

you reach out a steady hand, letting the tips of your fingers barely skim over the shifting flame.

“sure it is. all of human history is just a story written by the victors. and… 451 degrees isn’t nearly as hot as 2,700.”

umemiya smiles then, letting the lid of the lighter click shut. the fire snuffs out, leaving only a thin trail of spiraling smoke behind.

“sounds a lot more reasonable, too. much less scary,” he says.

you laugh, turning towards the main street. he watches you go for a second before pocketing the lighter and making to catch up. when he levels himself with you, he reaches out to take your hand.

“fires don’t have to be scary,” you say, giving his hand a quick squeeze, “for most of human history… it’s brought people together — over a hot meal or a good story. a lot of the time… it’s the only reason we get to survive.”

umemiya pulls you in to loop his arm around your shoulder.

“hm. i like the sound of that way, way better.”

bonus:

“so… just makin’ sure — you don’t want me to burn down the new library you spent all this time setting up, right?”

“no you dumbass! it was just a metaphor.”

“oh. right — yeah, a metaphor, duh.”

[sophiexrph]

TALIA RYDER GIF PACK

PUBLIC COMMISSION !! by clicking THE SOURCE LINK you will be redirected to a page with 451 gifs of TALIA RYDER as LILLIAN in THE SWEET EAST (2023) made from scratch by me, sophie ! talia was born in 2002 ! please don’t edit these or add them to gif hunts and like or reblog if you use them ! :) thank you so much to my commissioner, and click this link if you’d like to know more about my commissions !

[desolatespring]

CW: yandere themes, threats of murder, dubcon/noncon, mentions of dacryphilia, overstimulation, and edging, oral sex (f receiving), dom Chrollo, 18+ Commission for @tomatop It took awhile to pick up on, but you eventually began to notice the subtle cues Chrollo inadvertently laid before you. In a way it almost humanized him, and that you thought, was even more unnerving than just accepting him as a monster. Viewing Chrollo as human was a cruel conclusion you struggled to come to. Despite the insurmountable power, and cold calculated behaviors, he was still a man. On rare occasions you came close to feeling bad for him, never true empathy, but pity.

Tonight was one of those instances. His usual methods of producing verbalized emotional turmoil, or as he liked to call it “banter” had ceased to work a few days ago. You remembered an article you read soon after graduating, and the term “stonewalling” stood out to you. It consisted of simply refusing to answer questions or responding to someone as an act of self preservation. Chrollo seemed to feed off your responses to him, you hoped by cutting him off from them he’d simply starve. Anything from a forced smile to you screaming in frustration was enough to temporarily satisfy him, providing him with enough material to psychoanalyze you for days, if not weeks on end. So, you decided to limit his resources.

You sat cross legged on the floor, back leaning against the bed, with a book in your hand. Under normal circumstances you loved reading, but alas, nothing with Chrollo could be considered normal. The only reading material you had he had supplied you with, was it really necessary for you to be reading “Fahrenheit 451” for the third time? You swore you’d go insane if he compared you Clarisse McClellan even once more.

When you first started reading Chrollo was at the head of the bed, reading his own novel, but after a few chapters he’d invited himself to lay down right behind you, his hand “accidentally” brushing your hair on occasion as he turned the page. Not long after this you could feel his eyes on you. The chill that tended to run up your spine under his scrutinizing gaze never came though. This is what told you something was off, even without turning your head you could almost feel emptiness radiating from him, threatening to swallow you into the abyss. That alone was almost enough to make you capitulate, ready to beg him for forgiveness for ignoring him.

Forcing yourself to focus on the pages in front of you, you successfully set these feelings aside. That was until the once sporadic brushes against your hair became more frequent. Out of the corner of your eye you could see that fingers that once touched you with an unspoken confidence became riddled with doubt. The touches were much more gentle, you could tell he was deep in thought.

That caused you yourself to think. Was he getting bored of you? If he was you considered yourself to be found guilty of treason, willing to receive capital punishment. No longer having an interest in you would surely be cause enough for him to kill you. You saw first hand the way he quickly disposed of his fortunes after heists. Once they served their purpose they were discarded and he moved onto his next target. Surely you’d meet the same fate if he no longer felt a need for you.

The realization had you speaking before you could stop yourself, “Did you finish your book?”

Just like that the emptiness you felt earlier was replaced with substance, you could practically feel the arrogant grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

“No. Is yours too difficult to understand? I could explain it to you.” Almost instantaneously you regretted opening your mouth, maybe death would be better than having this cretin belittle you.

Deciding you’ve already had enough of the conversation you begin to focus on your story again. Your escape is short lived as the book is snatched from your fingers.

“What made you speak to me again?”

You sigh before turning to face him. Of course he would ask. Maybe trying to seem like you had his best interest at heart would temporarily win him over.

“You seemed disappointed.”

He pauses before responding. “Elaborate, there’s more to it than that.”

You purse your lips. Shit. I should’ve thought that one through better. “I assumed if you were disappointed with my silence you’d grow bored and just kill me.”

He seems satisfied with your answer. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise the king of deceit saw through your original deception.

Rolling onto his back he faces the ceiling with his fingers intertwined below his chest. His breathing is steady and his eyelashes flutter shut, casting a small shadow on his cheeks. In this moment all you think is how unfair it is for someone so evil to possess such attractive features. Wasn’t it said Lucifer was the most beautiful of God’s angels? you muse.

“You’re right you know? I feel like we’re at a standstill lately. I could replace you.”

Your breath hitches as you freeze. “I-I’m sorry?” Your voice sounds hoarse as you stutter.

“There is a way you could make it up to me. Buy yourself some time at the very least.”

You look at him reproachfully, waiting for him to explain further.

“You hardly resist when I touch you now.” He opens his eyes and turns towards you, watching for your reaction before continuing, “you could indulge me in some of my other… fantasies. Unless of course, I have to find someone new.”

The implications of his words causes your blood to run cold. Not only would your life be cut short, at this point that might be your preferred alternative, but he’d also find someone new. Taking a shaky breath you accept his offer. Someone new? Jealousy didn’t fuel your readiness to agree; you couldn’t bare the thought of anyone else falling victim to this man, not due to your own selfishness.

Sensing your forfeit, a satisfied smile chisels itself onto his alabaster skin, “come here.”

You hesitate before standing. Once you’ve risen you look down at your feet, each step looking like it was recorded in slow motion and looped back on repeat. All too soon your shaking knees collide with the side of the bed and you climb on top to kneel in front of him.

His hand reaches out, tucking the hair covering your face behind you ear. It slides down to underneath your chin as he gently lifts your face towards him. “Good girl.”

Under any other circumstances the action would have you swooning, but the butterflies in your stomach have turned to bile and you force yourself to keep it down. Pestilence sat before you, touching you with the delicate hands of a lover, while you became riddled with the plague.

Pulling you closer his lips hover centimeters from yours, the fresh smell of mint and cologne stinging your nose. If you weren’t so stunned you might’ve pulled away, but now it was too late as he finishes closing the distance between the two of you.

His lips were warmer than you expected. Softer too. Although the soul in Chrollo may have died long ago, his body was still alive and breathing. With a start you feel his tongue grazing your lower lip, his silent plea for you to reciprocate his actions. Swallowing your pride you lightly part your lips, begrudgingly allowing him access.

Once again he surprises you, the restraint he exhibits in this moment is unparalleled. Nothing is too rough or too fast, if it were anyone else you might even find it pleasant.

The taste of mint spreads to your tongue and you hesitantly put more effort into pleasing him. The hand on your chin relocated to rest on the side of your face while the other grips your hip. There’s no real force behind it but you know pulling away just got rendered impossible.

He continues to deepen the kiss as he guided you to straddle his lap. Once he’s sure you’re comfortable he begins leaning back, coercing your body to be on top of his.

Both hands are now on your hips and his fingers begin creeping under the waistband of your shorts. Using a little more force he guides your hips lower and motions for them to roll against him. Despite the voice in your head telling you it’s wrong, you follow his lead and cautiously grind against him. Overtime it becomes more natural and you resist the pleasantry less.

It doesn’t take long for you to feel the way his pants begin to stiffen, adding more pressure to your clit. You inhale sharply, abruptly breaking the kiss. Chrollo uses the opening to his advantage.

“Hm, it’s a wonder how you denied yourself for so long, look at how you’re taking charge.”

The mockery causes your cheeks to flush in anger. Before you have the chance to argue that he’s the one making you do this, his lips are back on yours.

Satisfied with your silence he pulls his mouth from yours, now beginning to trail kisses down your neck. As he reaches your collarbone he gives a light nip before easing your shirt off of you.

You curse yourself for not wearing a bra, now leaving yourself far more exposed than you’re comfortable with.

It seems to be spur of the moment decision as he flips you over onto your back, opting for himself to be the one on top. His fingers wrap around your wrists and he has the strength to easily hold both of your hands with one of his own.

He now freed hand begins to fondle your breasts before he gently begins sucking one of your nipples. He releases it with a pop and blows on the wet skin, the cool air causing you to shiver and arch your back.

He looks at you with a knowing smirk. You shoot him down with a glare. He clearly isn’t deterred since he’s now sliding your shorts off of you. He snaps the waistband of your panties against your hips before removing those too.

You being fully nude when he’s still in a button down and black trousers only reinstates the power imbalance you know exists. You’re completely vulnerable to him, and he’s just observing you. It’s hard to tell if his arousal is coming from you or the humiliating position he’s put you in.

“Unbutton my shirt.” Your glare softens to more of a pout as you listen to his instructions. You try unclasping the buttons as fast as possible to get the inevitable done and over with.

“I didn’t realize how badly you wanted this. Slow down.” You look back up to him and the expression on his face can only be described as taunting. He knows damn well why you’re in a rush, and it has nothing to do with excitement.

Nonetheless you slow your pace and maintain the eye contact with him, making your discontent as apparent as possible.

The moment his shirt is discarded he’s grabbing your hips with more intensity and pinning them down to the mattress. His grip is bordering on painful but you try not to show it, deciding to just take it in stride and lay there.

He slowly lowers himself between your thighs, making sure to keep his eyes on you. At this point your will starts to crumble and you look away, suddenly wanting to give him as little to work with as possible.

Chrollo seems unbothered by this, admittedly probably expecting it. The next thing you notice is the feeling of his warm tongue licking a long, sensual stripe up the length of your inner thigh. You subconsciously try closing your legs at the contact. But in an instant his hands are leaving your hips and moving to your legs to hold them open.

He continues to trail up your leg, occasionally leaving sloppy open mouthed kisses and bites. Every time he gets close to your pussy he switches to the other leg and starts the process over. After a few repetitions you lose count of how many times he’s done it.

Despite it being Chrollo, you start to desire more and the teasing is getting to you. Suddenly, you’re struck with a sickening realization. He wants you to beg him for it. You whine in frustration at the thought, temporarily forgetting he’s there to hear all your noises.

“Is something wrong, my dear?” His words slightly hushed by the way he spoke them into your leg.

“Stop teasing…” you mumble, hoping that’ll be enough to satisfy him. It wasn’t.

He stops altogether and props himself up on his left elbow to see you better. “I can’t understand you darling, please look at me when you’re speaking to me.”

You huff and sit up slightly. “I said stop teasing.” Your words are even quieter this time and you can tell by his grin that you’re blushing.

“What would you like me to do instead?”

You bite your lower lip to avoid screaming at him. He seems to have mistaken it as a sign of arousal though because he grin only grows bigger.

“I-I um, I want you to eat me out…”

You can practically see how the gears turn in his head. Thankfully, this half hearted attempt at dirty talk seemed to be enough for him.

Not giving you time to react, he drops his head back down and licks along your slit before taking you clit between his lips and sucking gently.

“Ah-” you yelp in surprise and tilt your head back, not wanting him to be able to see any of your expressions. As you lay back down he only doubles down on his endeavors. Your back arches and much to your chagrin you can’t hold back your soft moans.

His tongue swirls around and over your clit until he finds a rhythm that you clearly enjoy. You go to reach for his hair but last second your fingers opt for the satin sheets instead.

You’re to blissed out to think much of anything when he reaches up and sticks two fingers in your mouth. Assuming it’s just a kink of his you decide to indulge him.

As he pulls his fingers out of your mouth his thumb trails down your lower lip. Your eyes widen and your whimpers get louder as he abruptly begins to finger you. Taken aback by the bold gesture you cuss him out.

“Fuck you.”

“We’ll get there.”

You scoff in annoyance but it’s quickly silenced when you feel his fingers begin curling inside of you. Between this and the love letter he’s writing with his tongue your orgasm begins to build.

You’re fairly certain you can feel him smirk against you as he comes to the same conclusion. Your back arches of the mattress and you string together a mantra of words.

“Chrollo- I’m, fuck I’m close.”

And just like that his fingers are gone and his mouth is pulling away. You sit up, confused. Shame washes over you at the sight of him. He’s perfectly composed, leisurely pulling his cock from his pants, while you’re forehead is covered with a sheen of sweat, cheeks red, and your mouth is slightly agape.

He looks up and seems rather proud of himself for leaving you with such a dazed expression. Now freed from his pants he grabs your calves and yanks you to him, resulting in a nervous giggle leaving your lips.

“Lay back down.” His tone is softer now and he nudges your shoulder, motioning for you to recline back.

You give him one last hesitant glance before doing as you’re told. The sound of him spitting in his hand before lightly stroking himself causes you to grimace. How alluring.

You’re pulled from your thoughts as he leans over you, staring into your eyes as he lines himself up with your entrance. This is the most life you’ve seen in the empty sea of grey. His pupils are blown wide with lust and there’s a glimmer of something else in there but you can’t quite put your finger on it. If he was anyone else you might’ve mistaken it for love.

He’s careful as he enters you. Watching your face for any signs of discomfort. The sudden look of care throws you off guard and you feel almost dizzy as your emotions muddle together.

You let out a shaky breath once he’s fully inserted himself, forcing your muscles to relax despite the slight sting from how he stretches you out. Once you adjust to his size he sets a slow, steady pace, gradually picking up speed as you settle into it.

He brings himself closer to you, resting his face in the crook of your neck which he makes sure to mark. His breath tickles as his teeth graze along your earlobe.

Being too lost in the moment to care, your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him deeper into you. The low groan he lets in response causes a pleasurable shiver to run through your body. Clearly appreciating your submission his hand snakes up and his fingers curl around your throat, giving it a light squeeze. When he hears no protests and only a high pitched whimper in response his grip tightens.

He sits up straighter at this and tosses one of your legs over his shoulder. The change in position causes your eyes to roll back as he ruts himself deeper into you, making sure to hit every spot that makes your leg shake around him.

For the second time you feel your orgasm approaching but this time he shows no sign of stopping. Instead, opting to coax your through it.

“Mm, I knew you’d take me so well, sweetheart~” his voice is husky and his cheeks flushed a light pink. If you weren’t so close to cumming you’d probably laugh at the sight of Chrollo looking flustered.

Instead, his words send you over the edge and your hand latches onto his forearm. The grip of his hand around your throat once again tightens as the way your nails dig into his skin. He groans as your walls squeeze around him.

He continues fucking you throughout your high and by the end of it your babbling from the overstimulation. He removes his hand from you throat and delicately places it in your hair, his pace slightly slowing as he sees you growing overwhelmed.

They way you now spasm with each thrust as tears prick at the corners of your eyes is enough to bring him to his own release. His hips stutter and he waits a moment before pulling out, relishing at your final whines, a symphony you’ve orchestrated just for him.

After you’ve both cleaned up he ticks you into bed, laying down beside you. Despite your earlier actions you still stiffen when his arm wraps around your waist. The silken sheets that helped ground you earlier now holding you prisoner.

“You know, I was only bluffing earlier. I don’t think I could ever get tired of you. A day with you could supply me with a lifetime of musings.”

It takes a moment for his words to set in, but once they do you’re sitting upright, anger bubbling in your throat, ready to be released.

“You mean that was all just a ploy to sleep with me?” Your fists clench at your sides, eager to collide with him.

“Of course it was. Now go to bed.” He replies lazily, flicking off the lights.

[mostlyghostie]

June Reads

Not a big month in terms of pages read! One new bedtime book with my daughter and 3 for me.

Shockingly, this is the first Gabriel Garcia Marquez I’ve read, it was absolutely great so I’ve picked up a couple more.

War of the Worlds was good, I thought I’d read it as a kid but apparently not (same with Fahrenheit 451). Found a paperback from the 50s that was falling to bits in a charity shop, glad to have wrung a bit more life out of it

[gingersn4pp]

Little inked comic I did from a section of Fahrenheit 451, for an assignment. Traditional, besides a couple minor fixes and some light greytones added in post.

I did actually burn the edges of the paper with a lighter on the last pages, haha! it doesn't really look like burnt edges in the end with all the black ink, though...