#putting my clown shoes back in the box

[sad-emo-dip-dye]

They really said ‘Y’all got to see the s5 trailer I think that’s enough’ and gave us nothing

[serejae]

I CAN TRY BUT I CANT HIDE IT FROM YOU | J.WW

introvert wonwoo bf thoughts

for my wonwoo babies :), sorry for inactivity school started 😢

mentions of dress to impress 😏

even though wonwoo isnt good at cooking hes always making your lunches. HE HAS THOSE LUNCHABLES ON DECK. and trust hes snacking up your lunch box

^he never forgets to put a toothpick in there for you just incase (as someone with braces this makes my stomach have butterflies)

i believe he secretly had made a sims family of you and him with 2 kids and 3 pets. he even spent time making your dream home

speaking of gaming, i know whenever you both play scary games, hes always going first and risk his characters life to save yours. if you both were running from the monster hes behind you making sure youre is safe first

wonwoo doesnt care if seungcheol or jeonghan constantly clown him but he always WILL play dress to impress with you. he always votes your outfit 5 stars even if youre completely off theme or have only shoes and hair on

if you get hate on your outfit in the chat he doesnt defend you in the chat because hes just introvert. but, he will spam report the person until theyre kicked or banned

wonwoo is the type to always agree to you “the restaurant is an hour away baby…ROAD TRIP THEN!”, he always listens to your rants even if its the most randomest or boring thing he will stare at you with heart eyes as you speak and agree “yeah i cant believe she’d do that…”

adding onto the last one he will throw you under the bus to get out of situations. (i love introverts) he didnt wanna go to the after party? “sorry my partner just called, i gotta get home” or the “my partner said no, sorry” yes, you tweak a bit because what if your reputation is ruined but you know he’lll keep using it as an excuse T-T

he’ll do all the tiktok trends you want, you wanna kiss all over his face? YES! you wanna wanna do a small tiktok dance? YES! you wanna do a couple fit check with your matching outfits and creeper keychains? YES! and trust, while hes doing the tiktok dances he has a big smile on his face that make his glasses go up from his big cheeks whike smiling. and please. hes reposting it on all his apps.

in real life he already barely post selfies, but if you were his partner his social media is a you fan account, his profile picture is you, all his highlights covers are you and full of you, his post are all you, and his bio has you tagged

he BEGS you to match usernames in games and on discord like even if you dont play or use the app he’ll still keep it

LIKE PLSSLSLSL IMAGINE IT FOR ME

“ilovethemsomuch” is typing…

“canheleavemealone” sent you one notification

if hes a idol in this universe, he’ll go crazy on stage using his deep voice (we know…lalali…) then as soon as he sees you backstage hes running to hug you while bringing you guys to a corner to be alone as he mumbles sweet words “missed you baby” “lets go home and cuddle?” “im so lucky to have you”

hes the small spoon, he loves being big spoon but at night after all the protecting hes done for you, he just needs a little recharge with laying ontop of you while he hides his face in your neck as you run your hands through his hair

man is the definition of gentle love. cannot convice me other wise

in arguments, never argues back. just sits there allows you to speak, yell, get everything out your system and pays attention to you speaking so he can see what he needs to reassure, clear, and tell you

in big dinner parties, whether in a restaurant or house hes always sitting by you. in these big settings he never wants to leave your side, he holds your hand and plays with the promise ring he had gotten you

wonwoo loves it when you take off his glasses. he sometimes pretends to sleep so you can take off his glasses and kiss nose. you never told him but you slowly figured out when his cheeks redden each time

babe hes so obsessed with you. has your picture as his gaming pc lockscreen, homescreen, and even google screen. his password on everything is your birthday and if the members figure that out its your anniversary, and if they figure that one out, its the first time you two kissed

has your initials made with little gemstones of your favorite color on the side of his headphones and controller

has a polariod picture of you on his monitor, and on his desk

loves being the underdressed boyfriend when necessary. of course wont be underdressed all the time but he has his moments when youre shining and hes just…there…….(he loves you being the spotlight)

also loves it when you order for him, dont get him wrong, he’ll order for you no hesitation but sometimes his social battery runs low……

wonwoo i need

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

A source of great joy to me this weekend has been watching Boris Johnson's fucking transparent-as-oxygen game of Schrödinger's contestant because my god, this man's ego

Like he cancelled his holiday, came home early on Saturday, and he was ready, Tumblrs, he was ready, little blue boxing gloves on, sweatband in place around his little ham ears, Carrie Antoinette mopping his brow... He was here and prepared to FIGHT Rishi Sunak. He was going to WIN. This was his chance to unite the Tories, to be vindicated and exonerated, to get back to his ugly flat in number 10 that he had decorated like a colonial officer's room in the British Raj, and everyone was going to pat his wig and honk his dick and it was all going to be great. All he needed was a hundred supporters! He could beat his mean former Grand Vizier! It was going to be beautiful.

...Except people did hate him when he left, didn't they? They said very mean things about his face and also his brain. When he was packing up he even found custard in his clown shoes, Tumblrs, and he's pretty sure it was Michael Gove that put it there because he smirked at the squelching. So wouldn't it be awful - wouldn't it be HORRIFYING - if he tried to compete...and LOST.

:O :O :O

Solution - campaign without ever actually telling anyone you're campaigning. If you win, huzzah! You're so popular! If you lose, it's fine, you were never actually competing. Schrödinger's contestant. A perfect plan. The only thing that would undermine it is if you then very obviously and visibly start canvassing and competing.

Lol.

The highlights included:

Getting back into the country yesterday and immediately claiming that he already had over 100 votes, because hey, lying always worked before

He did not

He had 54

Calling Penny Mordaunt today and begging her to drop out so he can have her votes

Penny Mordaunt telling him to fuck his own clown nose

Penny Mordaunt telling him her supporters will switch to Sunak anyway if she drops out

Penny Mordaunt telling him some of his own supporters have already switched to her

Claiming tonight (Sunday) as the Monday deadline approaches that he has 102

102 is the exact number you'd claim because 100 or 101 would sound too unbelievable

Realising he is definitely not going to win because he does not, in fact, have 102, or even 100

Announcing 15 minutes ago that he isn't competing anyway so really when you think about it he hasn't lost

He should have stayed on holiday

Anyway people keep asking me but I'm telling you, it'll be Sunak

[daytaker]

hii hellooo, may i request brothers with a clown core mc? their outfits most often being very colorful but their personality being the opposite? like somewhat cold and very blunt, not talking much and if talking then it’s about something mildly disturbing like murder investigations or an odd fascination with deadly diseases stuff like that

sorry that it’s extremely specific and thank you regardless _(┐「ε:)_

Clown Anon MCs - [ Clowncore MC | Death-Fixated Science Geek MC | LeVeyan Satanist MC ]

When you first arrived, no one was sure what to think. They looked you over. Your pink hair, your cyan shorts. A yellow T-shirt and rainbow suspenders. Gaudy makeup and adorable pink tennis shoes. Beaded bracelets and necklaces and colorful tights.

And a box of smokes in your back pocket.

"Welcome to the House of Lamentation," Lucifer says, gesturing grandly at the stately mansion ahead of you.

You say nothing. Instead, you pull out a cigarette and a lighter. Taking a drag, you lazily gaze at the house, then back at your host, who looks disgusted.

"Make sure you only do that outside," he says, nodding to the box of cigarettes in your hand.

You blow a puff of smoke in his face and start walking to the door, completely ignoring the sounds of Lucifer struggling to contain his rage.

"Why's it called that?" you finally ask as you stop at the front doors. "'House of Lamentation'?"

Lucifer, having composed himself by now, steps up beside you. "This is a replica of a house from the human world," he explains. "In it, an entire family was murdered; the parents, the servant, and six of their seven sons. The seventh--"

"Ohhh. This is the Sutton house," you say, nodding.

"Excuse me?"

"The Sutton house. Massachusetts, 1923. Elijah Sutton, oldest of seven sons, runs into the local tavern screaming that his servant killed the whole family and himself. Most folks today think it was Elijah who really did it. I know I do."

You take one more drag from your cigarette, then drop it on the ground and put it out with the heel of your shoe.

"So this is their house, huh? Sick."

---

It's breakfast on your second day in the Devildom. You took extra time to apply your godawful makeup this morning, and you're sure it shows, because the brothers keep glancing at you as if they're not quite sure what they should say.

"You talk to them, Mammon," mumbles Satan. "You're their babysitter."

"Ah... ahem." Mammon casts a glare at his brother, then looks at you. "So, uh... Human." You stare at him with a dead-eyed expression that seems to unnerve him even more. "...We're goin' to RAD today, and there's a couple a things you should know." You continue staring.

Mammon looks to his brothers for help, but they all avoid eye contact. "Uhhh... Just... try not to get eaten, 'kay? Lucifer'll be pissed if you die on my watch."

"Do demons eat people?" you ask. "Like, raw?"

"Sometimes! So don't mess around with 'em, got it?"

"That's gotta be messy as fuck."

"It is!"

"You got any photos?"

"....Eh?"

---

"So I get that you're the seven deadly sins," you say to Satan, sprawled out in an armchair in the library, "but like... is that all you guys got here?"

Satan, who had been minding his own business and innocently reading a book of curses, looks irritated. "Is that all of what?"

"I dunno. Bad shit shaped like people." You shrug. "Like, you got the Four Horsemen or somethin'?"

"Of course not," Satan snaps. "That would be ridiculous."

You shrug. "Embodiment of plague? Too ridiculous to believe. Embodiment of wrath? Well, obviously that's a thing."

---

"You have to make pacts with Lucifer and his brothers," Belphie urges you through the door. You stare at him, then take a drag from your cigarette. As long as Lucifer is occupied in the music room with that weird record, you're going to break every rule in this damn house.

"How am I supposed to do that? Am I gonna split up my soul Horcrux style? Give everybody a slice?"

Belphie stares at you for a few seconds. You don't realize how badly he wishes he could kill you in this moment. "Are you going to help me or not?"

You shrug. "What do I get out of it?"

He blinks at you in utter bewilderment. "You... make me happy?"

You stare at him. He stares at you. You stare at him. He continues to stare at you.

You head back down the stairs.

[nanamis-bigtie]

Ocean Tides

Character: Gojo Satoru Reader: afab (ambigious body descriptions, neutral words used regarding genitalia with an exception for word "clit") CW: explicit n.sfw content, PWP, one shot, established relationship, vaginal fingering, oral sex (Reader receiving), lots of teasing, edging, orgasm control, pet names ("thing", "doll") Word Count: ~3.8k Synopsis: Your box with sex toys disappears in mysterious circumstances right as you need it. The main suspect is, of course, lingering around, ready to give you a helping hand. A/N: Well, now it's the official virginity breaking for Jujutsu Kaisen :3 Requested some time ago by my bf and personal Gojo maniac @mysticaltigersorceress whom I happily murder now with horny. Of course, y'all are welcomed to join. I'd lie, if I said all those descriptions of hands didn't have any erm effect on me. The title is loosely inspired by the song I associate with Gojo and Gojo only - Ocean Eyes by Billie Eilish. Itself, it has nothing to do with "plot", just sharing 'cause I think it's cool.

It’s the third drawer—and still nothing.

At this point you don’t have much hope. You’ve checked all possible hides, plus a few less possible extra, and your box with sex toys is still nowhere to be found. All other places either wouldn’t fit it or are too much on display for you to consider them; for the peace of mind, you even ducked under the bed—just to find a long lost sock and a few overlooked candy wrappers.

And here you’ve been waiting for this little moment of solitude all day long… 

Frustrated, you throw yourself on the bed—and groan as the phone, stuffed in the back pocket of your jeans, pokes you. You snap it out, finger against the screen activates it, and your boyfriend’s infuriatingly stupid smirk flashes right in front of your face from the lock screen.

As if the last cog just clicked in and finally put the machine back on the right track. Of course, the most obvious answer and solution have been right under your nose all time long!

Satoru, have you seen my toy box?

He’s not one to catch himself into a cleaning spree—and especially not at your place—but he’s always the center of chaos. If you left the box on display when he was around, it was almost certain he would mess with it. Though, in this case you would be immediately attacked—he wouldn’t let such a discovery come to waste. Well, there’s also a chance he helped himself and stuck his nosy fingers where a normal person would never. After all, such things as privacy or social boundaries don’t exist in his dictionary.

Your phone vibrates before you can put it away.

naaah 

Such a fast answer would be suspicious even if Gojo wouldn’t be one walking definition of dubious truth himself. 

Are you absolutely sure?

what you dont trust me y/n (ノД`)・゜・。so mean

Despite frustration you can’t help but smile at the memory of his perfectly played kicked puppy face. He’s a bastard and a reckless clown—but an adorable one, you have to admit it. There’s a good reason for you to have such a weakness for him despite all the shit he constantly pulls on you.

Shaking your head and sighing, you start typing your answer—just to be interrupted halfway.

need help looking?

You throw the phone away and groan into your hands, pressed tight to your face.

“You’re right behind the door, right? You ass.” The walls of your apartment aren’t thick, he can easily hear you all the way from the bedroom. “It’s open.”

Gojo slides in almost soundlessly, announced only by the click of lock as he closes the door behind himself. Soon, he’s marching into your bedroom, not even bothering to take shoes and jacket off. Mischievous gleam of bright blue eyes blinks at you over sunglasses; he leans against the doorframe, casual, unbothered, so obviously lying it hurts to watch.

“So. Where is it.”

“Where is what?” He springs straight, puts hands behind his back and wobbles back and forth, like a student asked an uncomfortable question. “I don’t know anything about boxes.”

“Don’t play coy, I know you did something with it. Did you take it?”

“Nope!” You want to tear his throat open just for the way he prolongs the vowels as he speaks. “Why would I take your toys? I don’t even know what you are talking about.”

“You always know everything you shouldn’t know.”

“Touché.” He clicks tongue and leans forward, frozen mid-step, like a cat ready to pounce at its prey. His eyes meet yours directly for a split moment again, and it’s enough for the build-up tension in you to pick its head up and roar. How are you supposed to play the tough cop in this routine banter, if he only adds to the fire that’s been itching you all day long?

You clear your throat and try to subtly press yourself against the mattress, to ease the traitorous itch between your legs at least a little without dragging his attention to it. 

What have you been hoping for? Of course, Gojo would never miss something of this sort…

“All this fuss because you couldn’t rub it out?” He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. You would gladly strangle him on point. “Fingers too short? Can’t reach? Babe, and you made me wait? I could—”

“You’re such a jerk.” You throw a pillow at him. He doesn’t even bother to catch or dodge, it stops an inch away from him and falls by his feet, sliding down the invisible shield of his cursed technique.

“You want it or not?” He takes his jacket off and throws it on the bureau. Tight, black t-shirt, fitting snugly his impressive musculature, doesn’t leave much to your imagination. “I’m busy, you know, and we’re sooo understaffed… I can’t waste my time.”

And that’s why you’ve been following me from work and waited all this time by the door? You asshat…

You roll your eyes and fall flat on your back, “Fine, if you’re already here. But wash your hands.”

“Your wish is my order.”

At the back of your head, you feel you’ve just been pulled into a multi-layered prank, but you still kick your pants and underwear off…maybe a tad too fast for your pride’s liking. Feeling the cool air against your dripping slit drives you mad and even more impatient, the sensation of emptiness only more present and pinpointed when you’re lying alone, stripped and waiting. Gojo, of course, takes his time, turning a simple task into a damned show, washing his hands profoundly at least three times (as you judge from the flushing sounds) before eventually wiping the hands dry and marching back. The need to strangle him—with your thighs, for extra flavor—just grows stronger with each passing second.

He stops in the doorframe again, cleaning his illegally long fingers with hand sanitizer and a tissue, each individually, a few times, with an extra attention paid to the nails. His hands are enormous, even for someone of his height and posture: a fact that has always been grasping your attention, pushing your thoughts straight into the darkest circles of lustful hell. You know well what he is capable of with their help, how deep and wide he can stretch you with only two fingers. Your insides twitch just at the thought, shallow breath almost whistles between your grit teeth, and a wave of heat crashes against your skin. It feels as if you were burning and blushing like a girl from shoujo manga—and regardless of what your face really looks you have an itching need to hide behind hands or pillows.

You win against the urge—but your legs aren’t as obedient. They close as soon as Gojo approaches, the echo of clapping thighs has his eyebrow cock in surprise.

“What, changed mind?” He takes glasses off and threads fingers through hair. So close, from the angle you took lying flat on your back, he seems even taller: blue-eyed giant towering over a lamb he chose for a snack.

Even if curling inside, inch by inch giving the reins away to the horny beast ready to bat eyes at him for a crumble of attention, you decide to still play tough. Your legs snap open, confident and welcoming, wobbling at knees only a little bit. You hope he hasn’t paid attention to that.

Abnormally blue eyes skim down your middle. Gojo stretches wrists, then cracks knuckles, one last time doing a show out of his hands. He beckons you closer, the movement of his finger almost hypnotizing, then points at the edge of bed. You expected him to climb on top, but you can’t complain when already rushing to follow the order. At the back of your head, you’re scolding yourself for being so obedient and nice for an asshole who surely pulled all of this circus to trap you for whatever reason his messy mind created. In fact, you’re just enthusiastically lifting hips for him to pile the pillows until he’s satisfied with the level and drops to his knees with a pleased, breathy sigh.

Even when kneeling for you, Gojo seems to tower over your body and soul. He slots himself between your legs, not without a stretch to fit his broad shoulders flush, hands rest on your hips and pull you closer, almost dragging you off the pile of pillows he picked himself. Your mind is already freezing at the feel incomparable to any other hold—but, of course, he can’t stay still. Huge, warm palms, long fingers, skin so smooth you can compare it only with velvet, trail down torturously slow. Your thighs seem to draw between them, their size underlined so well against your flesh. Instinct nudges you to shut your knees together—at the slightest budge though soft hands turn into iron and hold you almost forcefully where he wants you, where you belong.

He’s kneeling for you—but you’re the one left on his mercy. Little, fragile bird closed in the cage of his hands.

“So wet already?” The irritating, singing tone of his taunt ruins the spell. “Phew, it’s all spilling! What would you do, if I weren’t around?”

“I have—” The phantom of the missing toy box cuts you short, the break between words, however short, makes his smirk grow wider. “—fingers, too”

“Too short.” Gojo just states the fact. Compared to his, of course all fingers would be short. When he’s holding your hand, the difference is almost as sharp as between an adult and a child.

And to underline his advantage even more, Gojo reaches between your legs: confident, determined, cheeky. With a thumb, as long as a middle finger on many, he brushes your wet slit: a touch simple yet sparking your nerves so hard you jerk up and wiggle, craving more and overstimulated at the same time. Of course, he went right for the most sensitive lines and edges, your body like an open book against the all-seeing power of his eyes.

“Hey, hey, where are you going?” The other hand clenches harder and pulls you down, back to the place he chose. “You want to cum or not? Make up your mind.”

“Then start your work already?" You hiss through clenched teeth, now determined to fight against the odds, even if it wouldn’t last longer than a couple of seconds. You know he’d turn you into jello in five seconds if only he wanted to, but you have your pride—and your pride calls for standing your ground at all costs.

Gojo’s face is hard to read now, frozen right on the thin line between no thought and intense focus, his brows slightly furrowed—but not enough to ruin the smooth perfection. It doesn’t last longer than a few seconds, a cheeky grin soon returns…and from one meeting of your eyes you know you’ve just stepped into a serious problem. “So chirpy and pecky today. Alright. Here we go.”

He touches you exactly the same way, except…not really. Your hips budge again and a needy purr presses to your lips, but there is something not right. You know Gojo, you know his hands and his ways. The last crumble of the sane mind desperately tries to pull your attention to it before it’s too late—but another lazy swipe of his thumb swallows it like a black hole swallows light. 

Well aware of the death penalty, you walk into the delicious trap with a smile and enthusiasm. 

“Let’s see.” Gojo hums and brushes your clit one last time. He starts sliding a single finger into you, until at the third of its length he’s sure you don’t need much of a warmup. A withdrawal, then attack continues with two fingers, slipping smoothly and fast. Breath stills in your throat, you sigh, then moan feeling him reaching the depths many can’t achieve with a dick. He stills at your reaction, a quick, blue glance swipes across your face in a way so easily to be taken as a concern, especially in the state you’re currently drowning in: of a sheer, blind trust and eagerness to take anything he gives you without a shadow of doubt. A few seconds pass, enough to stir you on, not enough to let your brain cool down, and he starts stretching you a little, testing your capabilities with a patience of saint: withdrawing as he feels a resistance, attacking almost immediately after anew, and back.

Right as he has you ready for the third finger, Gojo pulls out, leaving you heated up, right on the verge of entering the state of blank pleasure and need for more.

“You really hadn’t been playing with yourself before I came here?” He looks at the thick strings of your arousal gluing his fingers and sliding down his knuckles. “You’re like butter today.”

A protest—at his disbelief and the comparison—dies on your lips at the sight of Gojo’s tongue swiping fast between his digits. He licks himself clean, then stuffs fingers into his mouth and sucks, enjoying your taste throughout. It’s a shameless demonstration, a jab right into the memory of his oral skills and a silent question. You would like it, wouldn’t you? So bad you will need to ask for it—no guarantee he will listen, though…

“Snack break over!” He announces with a toothy grin, prolonging the vowels like an overexcited child. Licking lips one last time, he returns to his task, two fingers in, dangerously close to the point you know—

“Fuck!” You choke on breath, turning into a tense string of pleasure. From lazy simmering you’re yanked towards the high with nothing but a lazy brush of fingertips—and then back when he returns to prior depth and pace, interested in nothing but patient stretching.

“Mmm? Ohhh? What is it?” He coos, all-seeing blue gazing right between your legs with intensity capable of piercing you like his fingers. “Felt that good? With only two fingers? Ohh, someone is sooo needy—”

The need to bark back at him—or strangle him, if he’s already within reach of your thighs—perks its head again, the more, the slower his fingers become, almost smothering the little flame under your lust. But as you try to move your hips against him, the other hand grabs and pins, and his eyes flick up, wide open, equally beautiful and terrifying,

He’s in charge here. You lie down and wait.

“You want me to work and then do everything on your own,” he even scolds you, with the same tone he uses against his students when he actually bothers to pass as serious. “I won’t find anything, if you keep wiggling around.”

His fingers curl with surgical precision, circle around the spot but not really touch it. The heat starts bubbling again, and you bite on your lips, fighting against it and trying to stay still as much as possible, from your twitching hole to heaving chest.  

“That’s it! That’s a good little thing!” Gojo’s face is simply beaming with a smile—but of course he doesn’t make your task easy. His fingers inch closer and closer, right on the edge, brushing and teasing, but never daring to cross the border. Tears start pricking in your eyes, the forced stillness and insatiable urge to act up and steal that last crumble you need for the spark of pleasure. You’re tortured with praise, humiliated with words sweet like honey—and despite everything craving to remain in this state. Everything for him to finally push that damned button.

“Satoru…” You whine, the last resolve perking up and crumbling into dust soon after. There goes your pride, at this point you’re ready to throw yourself at everything he offers. Truly a slave of sheer biology, of the itch that’s been with you since morning, through all those long hours of work, then desperate search of the only remedy you had before he’s appeared.

You haven’t stayed still, you haven’t listened, of course his fingers start to withdraw, the peak drifts out, behind the clouds, so close yet so far… Ready to mewl again, you bite your lips until you feel pain and the urge withdraws. The only sound you’ll allow is begging, until his fingers return and—

Gojo presses the button. 

A push is sudden and brutal, you’re flying towards the peak, landing face-down right before it, tumbling towards the longed-for finish along the steep ridge. Just a little more, just one second longer, just harder, just—

“Hmm, I wonder if I will fit three…” Out of nowhere Gojo pulls out of you, the peak not only yanked from underneath your feet but also thrown beyond your sight. Groaning and swearing, eyes full of frustrated tears, you dig both heels into his back…or at least attempt to, a merciless barrier pushing you away the more the harder you try.

“You. Asshole.” You spit through gritted teeth. “I don’t need three, I need to cum!”

“Told ya you won’t cum if you’re gonna squirm.” Gojo pouts, much like a child scolded for innocence. “I really can’t take a good aim. Hm. Maybe we need to change angle a little—”

He throws your hips up as if they were nothing, folds your legs to his liking until you’re nice and bent, thighs supported against his shoulders. One bastard grin later Gojo indeed fits three fingers at once, the stretch prominent even for your arousal and experience with him. He could make it easy, but he decides to be an ass for no reason, maybe except for the strain and masochist pleasure all over your face. Lewd, squelching sounds follow your mewls and chirps, with the weird position he’s forced on you your juices trickle down your ass and back almost like a stream. Maybe he made you squirt, you’re not sure anymore what’s going on, thrown around and torn between burning edge and infuriating denial. Your world keeps narrowing to his fingers filling your hole suit, so deep he nears your limit and so precisely he’s teasing everything but that one spot. 

“C’mon, you said you want to cum.” Gojo presses your legs down even more, the pressure inside you barely bearable. Piercing blue gaze is too strong for you to handle, you close your eyes so hard your face freezes in a ridiculous, scrunched expression. “Hey, no giving up on it. You can do it, Y/N!”

Shut up. Shut up. I beg you, shut up and just let me come—

“Satoru…” The last mewl nears crying, your breath stutters and melts into a dry sob. You’re half an inch away from breaking and bursting into tears. You can handle only as much, your legs tremble around his head, exhausted and strained, your helpless hole clenches on him with a silent pleading. Just that one push…

“Shh, I know. I’m sorry. I got you.” Cruel fingers slow down and withdraw. Gojo adjusts his position; lets go of your legs but lifts your hips even higher. Something hot and lighter than breeze brushes your wet, tortured folds, a rustle of a deep breath comes to your ears in a break between your sounds of pleasure and frustration.

Through tears nearly blocking your vision you risk a peak, right at the perfect moment to meet his eyes. Smiling—not cheeky but peaceful and admiring—Gojo looks down at you with warm love. The tip of his tongue swipes teasingly between his lips—before plunging itself deep in you, swirling and dancing until it finally finds the string you crave to be pulled.

Sharp orgasm throws your head back into the mattress and arches your body. Almost screaming, you spasm and shake, your heels finally finding leverage against his back and digging bruises as you ride your high against his lips. He slurps and sucks, his face pressed deep, nose grazing your clit until the second wave crashes against you, the second high even more steep and powerful.

Strong hands don’t let you fall. Groaning low in his own pleasure, Gojo drinks from you until you stop creaming and gushing, the moves of his tongue slowing down together with you, careful to not graze your oversensitive nerves too much. The next time you dare to look at him you immediately shut your eyes tight. The sight of his beautiful face, all wet with your juices and flushed with arousal, is simply too much for your ever-spent body and mind.

Your legs fall limp when Gojo lets go of them. There’s no power left in your limbs, he has to gently scoop and move you to the side before slotting himself by your side, head resting on hand, the other hand gently wiping sweat off your forehead. You take your time to come down and ease your breath, each drag of air almost painful with your rib muscles so strained. Your groin burns with satisfied fire, you’re still twitching over emptiness—it’ll take a good while for the double orgasm to finally ease.

When you finally gather the power to roll head to side and open your eyes, you meet the barrier of sunglasses. You have no idea when Gojo put them back on, but you’re grateful. If you gazed into that terrifying blue, you surely would roll back into the heat.

“The box is under the bathroom cabinet, by the way.” He throws out of nowhere and yawns.

“What? How—”

“I don’t know, maybe we kicked it when I was having you against it?” He rolls on back and stretches arms and back with a loud groan. “I think you were washing the toys when— Ough! What for?!”

You have enough power to slap him through the head three times, each too weak to hurt even a fly. 

“I fucking hate you…” You sigh when he grabs it and presses a soft kiss to your knuckles.

“You were saying something quite different when I had tongue down your— Whoa, whoa, alright! Sorry!”

He grabs your wrist and rests your hand on your chest before leaning in for a kiss. His lips are full of your taste—but still, a faint flavor of sugar breaks through. You can’t help chuckling. Just how much of it he had to stuff in himself before he came here…

“Sleep.” He guides you to rest your head on his chest. You nuzzle close, happy, and smiling at the light, barely visible hair covering it. “You're gonna need lots of energy for round two.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t you think we’re finished.” For a split second, right before fatigue wins and closes your eyes for good, the blue slips past sunglasses, cold and hungry, dangerous. “Silly doll…”

[jennsterjay]

Clawcode Headcanons (because I could literally talk about them all day)

If Miles G is unsure about someone he'll put up a mask/front with them, but the minute Ganke M walks beside him and says the funniest unfunny joke known to man he snorts and the tough guy act completely crumbles against his will

Ganke M is the 'bro let's have fun' to his 'my life is the grind, all I know is the grind'. Even when Ganke M helps Miles G with complicated missions, afterwards he'll patch him up, then get him some Wcdonalds or King Burger and then play some Mario's Cart with him the rest of the night. Cue them falling asleep together on the couch

I'm still not over the idea of them getting each other Dragon Ball Z matching dog tags (rip to the goat of course 🙏🏾). Like there's so much sauce there it's perfect. Spider-Miles from 1610B would think its the coolest thing ever even when he teases Miles G about it, and the first week Ganke M wears it he makes sure every one can see it proudly around his neck

Ganke is Pan and Miles is Bi and Ganke doesn't think about gender too hard

Miles G: Rap, Trap, Rnb, J-Pop/Anime Music, Rock, and more

Ganke M: K-Rap, K-Rock, Nightcore, Daycore, Rap, Techno, Video Game Osts,  J-Pop/Anime Music and more

And they influence each other's music taste

They know each other's birthdays, favorite foods, shoe sizes, game catalogues, jokes, childhood stories, favorite songs, allergies,  icks, moral boundaries, biggest secrets, and worst fears...and they've only known each other for a year and a few months

Ganke M is simultaneously the class clown and one of the smartest students in his grade. Miles G is the other top student. Despite Miles G wanting to keep a low profile, when he's around Ganke he can't help but joke around and start roasting people and clowning in class too, and the two become pretty popular among the other students. Between their high grades, class disruptions, pranks, one or both of them disappearing to 'use the bathroom for a sec', prize winning robotics projects, funny jokes, and passing test scores...their teachers don't know if they should flip a coin to give them awards for their grades or to send them back to detention again

Rio and Jefferson were suspicious of Ganke M at first, thinking he was a bad influence, but eventually they warmed up to him and welcomed him after seeing how much he made his son smile. Even after Jeff was no longer there, Rio would still smile and welcome Ganke to their house just like they always had. Ganke sometimes even stops by to cook some Korean dishes and helps clean up whenever he visits Miles.

When Aaron Davis finds out Ganke M knows Miles G's big secret, he meets with Ganke alone for the first time (even though he would meet him once or twice in passing when Jeff was alive, they've never really talked to each other until this moment). At first Aaron is intimidating and tries to tell Ganke to stay out of Miles' business, but Ganke has never been a pushover and refuses. After a while, Aaron can see his determination and realizes Ganke's loyalty to Miles isn't shakeable. He sees something in Ganke that reminds him of himself. So Aaron says if he really wants to help Miles, then he needs to become stronger. It's after this that Aaron teaches him to box and fight, and teaches him more about tech, engineering, surveilance, tracking, stealth, and hydraulics.

Even though Miles G can hear his mom in his ear saying not to waste any food, Miles doesn't like eating the crust on sandwiches or pizza. But that's ok because Ganke will eat his own food and then eat the crust for him. Ganke will eat the tomatoes off of Miles' burgers too

Months after Miles G and Ganke M meet their universe's Gwen V. Stacy aka Gwenom, and she becomes an ally, she admits to them that she thought they were a couple at first. They weren't dating yet so she's not completely right, but with the way the two look at each other after she says that, she knows she's not completely wrong either. She totally teases them about it.

In this universe Dr. Ophelia Octavious is an African American scientist, ruler, and engineer who is part of the Sinister Six and runs a big part of the city. Miles G and Dr. Octavious have a Sonic the Hedgehog and Dr.Eggman type dynamic. Miles G keeps getting in the way of her plans and she knows he somehow has a connection to the original Prowler. Still, she secretly admires the kid for his heart and genius at least, not that she would admit this. One time at her base she successfully captures Ganke M saying "I have your little boyfriend" to try to get leverage over Miles G, but Ganke M is smarter than he looks and doesn't give her any information right before he escapes on his own with a dohickey he has in his pocket. When Miles G comes in to save the day and go toe to toe with Octavious, Ganke M looks from side to side and backs up towards a computer terminal and inserts a flash drive that hacks into and shuts down her whole system. Ganke and Miles slip away when the lights shut off, and all Octavious can see in the darkness is a computer terminal that has an anime girl dancing with flashing text that says 'Get Miku-ed'. Dr. Octavious is in disbelief and has several emotions at once before laughing and saying "I hate heroic teenage couples"

Their universe's Felicia L. Hardy will either work with you, be your ally, con you, or sell you out and Miles and Ganke don't know what to make of her. She guesses they're a couple almost immediately with the way they fight her (when Ganke already has his own suit) and even when they're on different sides, she teases them like she's an aunt or a big sister. Eventually they meet her girlfriend and even she teases them affectionately too.

Ganke's mom cooks Miles so much food when he visits (even when they don't have a lot) and Miles struggles to finish it because he's already so full from the first five plates but it's ingrained in him not to waste food. He taps out and brings the rest back home in Tupperware for him and his mom.

Ganke M and Miles G go to the rooftop a lot to listen to music and look at the stars together. Now that they know their universe is so big and that there are other universes out there, it really puts it into perspective that in the grand scheme of things they're grateful for what they do have in this world...

And that is each other

[berlinini]

some Thoughts about the 02 show (while the days of ltwt show recaps the length of essays are gone, I thought I'd share some stuff)(this of course got kinda long anyways, I am nothing but predictable!)

first of all it's so interesting to go online after a show and "consume" the show through different perspectives... I was in the pit close to the sound booth and could see a tiny Louis like tunnel vision (and not even always - I had to look at the screens a lot more than any previous shows). I had never been to such a big venue and it felt like the arenas I'd be previously - it's so hard to gage. Anyways when I saw Louis' IG post I realized how far I was and seeing pictures and videos of the venue - I truly hadn't realized the sheer number of people. Also the lights project from our POV seemed to have bombed but seeing the videos, it did create the intended effect. Also I was so far that I had to ask the gc for the color of the pants (#purple #slay) and only in the encore, when there was a camera on Louis' entire body, did I notice the shoes (unfortunately my eyes deceived me into thinking they were Nike). I missed all the little quirky faces and interactions that I now see in gifs. HOWEVER I did not miss the several times Louis teared up including during Chicago and during his speeches and I tell you my heart was bursting. I love that he talked a bit more than usual - I think he said something like "I can't put into words... well let me try" and he said everything so perfectly! The reference to his dreams and the "we" - I just listened to him and thought how much I love him. His special thanks to his band was super sweet.

setlist: HOTH safe! If I hadn't known DMD was back on the setlist I wouldn't have recognized it. No 7 :( I tolerate Angels Fly but tbh I don't understand how it's there and not like Headline or Always You or FEARLESS. High in Cali was hilarious because you could tell weed isn't legal in the UK lmao - the vibe was so different than back home. 505 still so good and now I can sing every single lyrics but in a very oh poor me, the show ruined my 5 x 505 streak this year since it's now 6. But 505 Laval you'll always be #1 in my Heart <3. We Made It is still the It Girl and Silver Tongues... I doubt a closer will ever come this close (hehe) to how fucking epic it is. Tbh I could hardly tell when the string section was playing but I'm glad I had a show with strings! Me still in LTWT mode wondering why the pyro didn't go off during Walls only to be told there hasn't been any for this tour ouuuups. The Megamix SLAYS so hard and the special effects were SO cool! I did miss the classic rainbow lights for SIBWAWC cuz the lasers didn't reflect on the crowd as nicely but the clouds and at the beginning of ATT were beautiful.

Talking about lasers I was eyeing this guy in the soundbooth that I'd never see before and was clowning about him being there for the LIVE ALBUM RECORDING. I even took notes to figure out later where he works (spare a thought for tumblr user bbrox who has to put up with my insanity). ONLY to figure out 1 hour later that the guy was the special lasers guy as made so obvious by the fact he packed up his stuff after Saturdays in a box that said "laser fx triangle C" lololol. Sometimes I think it's good to clown for nothing - be humbled!

I saw most of the crew in the soundbooth - the person I was with was trying to spot the Tomlinsons while I was looking for Oli and K and was mentally putting a check on names for the sound and lights guys - priorities! (Blaming Red Rocks for having us go down the rabbit hole of every single member of the crew)

Oh yeah the KMM lights! It was kinda spontaneous? He had a little shy smile like he was telling himself 'look at this lot' and it was soooo adorable. I'm glad I got to be a part of it <3 Which pretty much summarizes this whole show - witnessing a moment in history.

Finally - TANK TOP LOUIS WITH MY OWN 2 EYES!!!!!! And what a tank top!!! #blessed #cantspellslutwithoutlt

Everyone's been saying being a louie is for life and that just keep getting stronger and stronger everytime I get to see him perform! Can't wait for future shows!!!

[trudemaethien]

*skidding into your ask box in clown shoes*

ship: Rex/Cody

prompt: b a b y

okay okay prompt: yearning, responsibility, spoil

i do keep poking the next bit of that, promise, it’s just not quite. ready yet. pokepokecomeON

you have tagged me thrice for a last line, so have a pair of lines from the baby-fic and a freestanding other from an entirely unrelated work, then on to the main event:

“Cody kebbu bajur te’orikih sirbur buir,” Fox reports smugly, and Rex looks at Cody sharply.

“Kih’ika ven’gaii gar buir,” Cody hastens to add, “nu ash’ad, naas’mhi.”

—

The Admissions people had said the cadets who scored high enough for rank would be allowed their names back, and RF-7448 would very much like to be himself again.

Rex/Cody

Yearning Responsibility Spoil

(and bc i know what u like ive written u P A I N 😭)

“It only remains to decide the staffing of your new command, Anakin,” General Kenobi said to his newly knighted Padawan. “I have some suggestions, unless you have any requests for specific personnel?”

Around the meeting table, officers shifted. During this impromptu meeting called to inform the 7th Sky Command of Padawan Commander Skywalker’s unexpected promotion to General, Commander Cody had quickly drafted up his own set of suggestions, but unless General Kenobi was reading them from his mind with the Force, it was almost certainly not the same roster.

General Kenobi had not informed him in advance about this, let alone consulted him. Once again, a natborn was given precedence over Cody, no matter the absolute lack of experience, time in grade, or non-military promotion above more deserving leaders.

He suppressed his objections, and there were many, with utmost professionalism for as long as it took Skywalker to answer—not more than half a second.

“I want Rex,” the young Knight declared. “He’ll be my Captain and he can pick whoever else he wants to come along.”

Cody wasn’t that good at suppressing past his face, it seemed, because Kenobi and Skywalker both jerked around to look at him, Kenobi confused and Skywalker glaring. “Is something the matter?” they both asked, with very different intonations.

“He’s the best,” Skywalker said. “That’s what I need.”

“Did you have someone better in mind, Commander Cody?” Kenobi asked politely.

Cody steeled himself. “There is no one better,” he answered, and that was the Force-damned truth. “Captain Rex will submit his staffing recommendations within the hour, if there’s nothing else for us to cover here, Sirs?”

He couldn’t look at Rex as he sealed their separation. It was out of his hands.

“No, I think not,” Kenobi said genially. “You may go say your goodbyes.”

Cody swallowed his feelings about that into a black hole, and said, “Thank you, General Kenobi. Skywalker.” He stood and saluted properly and left the room after the rest of the clone staff.

They kept it proper all through the passageways, but as soon as the door of his quarters latched closed, Rex barreled into him and Cody caught him with all the strength he could muster.

A sob shook through Rex’s chest, and Cody squeezed him roughly. “None of that, now,” he reprimanded his brother.

“Fuck,” Rex cursed into his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Cody said wearily, “yeah, I know.”

“That nattie, jetii, civvie prick! Doesn’t think about anything except what he wants, and the rest of us have to put up and shut up; kark him,” Rex snarled.

Cody sighed heavily; he did not disagree.

“And you’re just letting him—you have Kenobi’s ear, you could—”

“I could what, Rex? It’s already done and dusted. Outmaneuvered. If he’d asked me first I could have guided it, maybe, but he didn’t, so my hands were tied. You were there!”

“Yeah,” Rex said bitterly, pulling away, “I was. The best. Not even a token protest, Cody? I’d rather you have called me half-rate and subpar, and gotten him to take …Checkmate, or Bliss instead.”

Cody said nothing, letting those words echo between them. Rex drooped.

“Sorry,” he muttered and sank onto Cody’s bunk, elbows on knees and face in his hands.

Cody knelt in front of him and pulled his hands away. All the reluctance and heartbreak he’d hidden in the meeting was clear on his face now and Rex could hardly meet his eyes.

“I don’t want to go,” he said futilely, voice small.

Cody closed his eyes to keep from tearing up, and bowed his head, leaning into Rex’s hold. He had to master himself for a long minute before he could speak.

His voice only shook a little when he said, “I love you, Rex.” Another steadying breath. “We still have a little time. Do you want to go over who I recommend, or—”

“Or,” Rex said, pulling him up from his knees. “Definitely, or.”

Responsibility Weighs Heavy 🔒 https://archiveofourown.org/works/51600688

[callmearcturus]

@icecreamvi replied to your post “Ok just finished rogue nation i think i liked...”:

I loved when they put the guy in the box

i loved when Ethan had a cute lil convo with the terminal agent at the start

i loved when ethan fixated on ilsa's shoes, and when ilsa tossed him the key but he couldn't fucking reach it so he just vaulted the pole, and the power of both of them barefoot and fighting in tandem

i loved every moment alec baldwin looked like an idiot

i loved all of Brandt's microexpressions (there are a lot)

i loved Benji just casually being able to completely clown on a lie detector test, the first of many hints that his competence has grown. also grown: his beard, and it looks amazing and soft

I loved "Hi Benji. Miss me?" like my god <3

I loved how Benji is GENUINELY INTO OPERA, we never get hints that he's a scifi or fantasy geek but we KNOW he is into classical music and live performance, that's so good

I loved Ilsa in the golden dress, esp the lil shorts underneath that are so functional

I loved Ethan vs a Tall Dude and how it genuinely alters how Ethan has to fight, and the desperation of his physicality, esp that double kick to the guy's chest, it's so GOOD

I love how Ilsa spots Benji once and saves his life bc everyone who lays eyes on Benji imprints on him

I love the car chase and how Ethan bodily searched Ilsa but it's not gross or weird, it's professional, I love it so much

I love the fucking scene between Ilsa and Solomon, the seething annoyance between them, the grit-teeth cooperation, I adore it. also just how she tossed the gun and how NOISILY it clatters on his sushi setting

(i'm gonna keep going )

I love that Simon Pegg pointed out that Benji is the only person allowed to yell at Ethan, and its GLORIOUS when it happens. i love Ethan's stunned little "okay" after and the microsmile he gives as he turns away.

I love Luther's role in the story, I really adore how Luther and Benji on paper have similar roles but in function they are just so different. Benji is a field tech, he has initiative and moves on his feet. Luther is better at the actual tech stuff, can do much more impressive feats, but doesn't have that same boots on the ground vibe. It's amazing.

I love Ethan and Benji's Morocco outfits. Ethan's in maybe his most colorful outfit of the series and I love it, and BENJI'S SHOOOOES.

I love Ilsa debriefing the boys and how cute they are and her expressions during it.

I love that Tom Cruise can hold his breath for fucking five to seven minutes and he freaked out the filming crew during the torus sequence.

I LOVE THE FUCKING WRITING CHOICE, THAT BENJI TELLS ILSA "I MISJUDGED YOU" RIGHT BEFORE SHE FUCKS HIM OVER. OH IT'S SO JUICY.

I love that in MI3, when Ethan came back from the bed he was immediately 'on' and ready, but in RN when he comes back from the dead, he's like. he's so fucked up l m a o.

I absolutely adore that when the script called for Ethan and Benji to get into the car, TC was like "I can't just get in the car" and then was like "I got it. roll cameras, I got it," and then improvised the moment when ethan faceplants off the car. And I love it bc I see myself in that technique, because it's a moment that had the potential to have Something, so he made sure it did. With a movie, you have 2 to 3 hours to tell a story and convey characters, and TC refuses to waste any of the moments, and I try my best to do the same with my writing, so I respect it.

I love the motorcycle chase but I'm a slut for all motorcycle scenes.

I love "Tell me you made a copy of that disk," "Of course I made a copy," the LOVE IN BENJI'S EYES. GOD.

I love Ilsa vs her shitty handler and the horror of how screwed she is, how you can watch the hope in her eyes die. Also the shake in her voice with "You bring me in," its amazing.

I love Brandt vs Ethan for the entire end of the story, the Bitchiness vs the Tiredness, it's tasty. Great chemistry.

The entire scene between Solomon and Ilsa in the graveyard is honestly gorgeous. The scenery, the camera pulled all the way back, the black slim look Lane has, Ilsa's amazing coat, the way they talk. I really adore that entire scene.

I love how Ethan doesn't think for a second about running away with Ilsa.

AND OF COURSE I LOVE THAT THEY TOOK BENJI. He's the damsel! And Ethan immediately loses it, he's out of his mind, yeah lets kidnap the fucking PRIME MINISTER, and how every time he tries to explain Lane, everyone else is like "ethan, u cray tho" I love Ethan's desperation, I feast on it.

I love how... Ethan memorized the fucking list. What a fucking batshit move. God.

I love Ilsa vs the Bone Doctor and how she rides his body the fuck down. THE WAY THAT RN KEEPS FUCKING WITH GENDER, like Ethan's play against Lane is a Wounded Gazelle Gambit, a very femme-coded move that fits with his MI1 history as a honeytrap, while Ilsa gets the extended fight scene.

I'M FORGETTING OTHER THINGS BUT I LOVE RN

not as much as I love Fallout tho

[bonesandpoemsandflowers]

In other fitness-y news, because I have high fussy arches but weird grippy monkey toes, and because way back when I was seriously deadlifting my limiting factor was not my grip strength but the fact my feet hurt, and because I finally wore two inch wide holes into my last pair of vans hightops, I finally got a pair of barefoot style (totally flat, zero drop, wide toe box) shoes. I've been curious about true barefoot shoes for years, but I hadn't committed because they're usually expensive and also kind of hideous. but once I put them on: SUPER comfortable, and probably they were the only reason I could join yesterdays spontaneous pack mammal jog. Also, idk, in person, they're kinda...cute? Because they curve up at the front, they're weirdly snub nosed and...cute. Friend shaped. Not as clown shoe shaped as I expected. do my laces go before or after the velcro? no idea. very different technique required for running, but only minimal adjustments for lifting, and I feel WAAAAY better and more stable even doing for hip thrusters.

[garbagefarm]

Garbage Farm (#48)

2024-03-25, session #48 of Garbage Farm! Spanning Winter 3 through Winter 9 of Year 4!

cast:

me (@mothmute)

E.B. (@blueherin)

Kimi (@2kimi2furious)

Highlights include, but are not limited to the following:

pre-game:

it's been a while, but Garbage is back, woohoo!

—oh. logistical difficulties. welp, it was bound to happen.

“so, uh, what'd you have for dinner?”

I did my Garbage Homework and I came prepared with a to-do list and everything! But nobody knows what we're doing.

(the song from titanic plays softly in the distance)

Possum is gonna be so so glad to see us, he might do a li'l hop and everything, maybe get all flat

Winter 3:

LET GARBAGE BE JOINED

oh god I've got clown shoes on and they jingle now, let's see how long before they notice

(spoilers: they don't)

I visit Marnie. Lewis assures me he is there strictly for business reasons.

Cringefail, one (1) more duck.

felled tree remains mysteriously appear in the graveyard??

Kimi finds a mystery door......

Clint caught me digging in the trash, who cares

Special order for Taro Root!

Alex is wearing his special shorts, but Kimi's are more special (hint: they are purple)

Winter 4:

Mr. Qi flies by on an airplane. Mystery boxes can now be found.

The Wizard Catalog is amazing.

I try to renovate my house, but all my stuff is in the way!

Made another shed big, though.

E.B. finds a mystery box. “what's inside?” “mystery, duh”

Honestly, a lot of the day is spent mindlessly wandering.

Big chests!! I'll miss the stone ones' aesthetics, but big chests!!

We all went to bed early

Winter 5:

Bookseller is in town???

Cool pig had an Elliott Portrait, that's not weird at all

(apparently had an Alex portrait, too)

I go ahead and max out the ducks

then I go consume all the books at once

Kimi finds powdermelon seeds??

Winter 6:

After moving all my furniture, I get a bunch of renovations to my house. To be honest, I have no idea what to do with all this space, my place was already a little sparse.

Kimi dies in the volcano because she didn't bring food!

(Somewhere in here, I suggest EB take the lead on the Taro Root quest)

Wind in the night...

Winter 7:

The big tree! Noooo! —eh, it was only there a few days.

A little hardwood turns it into a cute little house, though

Turns out, I'm the only one of us cool enough to explore the mystery cave 😎

It's wine night, and I drastically underestimate just how many kegs I have

Winter 8:

There's always so much to do! —and yet I can recall almost none of it!

Ice fest??

Kimi is running late to ice fest, but no worries. ... okay, maybe some worries, I am anxious-typed.

Hey, whole bunch of new dialog!

Evelyn is worried it might be the last time she make a snowman with Alex. That's so sad!! (It's okay, nobody dies here)

Harvey froze his face

Clint is completely useless at making snowmen

KIMI CAUGHT DOPING IN THE CONTEST AND STEALS 1ST PLACE

(it's okay)

I call out how nobody noticed my literal clownshoes and then realized, “shit, I sound like Clint,” 100% clown behavior

Winter 9?:

non-canon day!!

possum gives us a snail

MAYO CHUG hang on let's try and get a picture

Kimi tries and fails to count down

I suggest using a bomb as a timer; when the bomb goes off, drink!

we are so bad at this

over 12 in-game hours and no mayo chug picture, truly phenomenal

TO-DO:

crystalariums for coffee project and so many stairs

💀💀💀

I've been putting off kegs, preserves jars, and some tree-tap improvements for so many sessions, now

friendship!!

walnut room......

long-term projects, shopping lists

OPERATION MAGIC HAT (strictly confidential)

Keep exploring 1.6 content!!

Gotta defeat the ocean. The whole ocean.

... do we want extra garbage cottages?

oh right, darts

-

A short session, but it's good to be back, and I'm looking forward to exploring more 1.6 content with my friends

[janis-1987]

Under New Management (Fizzmodeus)

Chapter 7

Masterpost X

< x >

Fizz doesn't feel any nerves as he prepares to take the center stage for the last time at the circus, in fact he feels relieved, knowing that he'll likely never be here again.

That's when Blitz comes up behind him, "It must suck to know you've become obsolete." He says with venom in his voice.

Fizz rolls his eyes and flicks his tail in annoyance, "Yeah, glad you've come to terms with the fact that you'll be fired soon."

Blitz growls, "Not me you noodled limbed asshole, you. You're being replaced by a fucking robot. You've become washed up."

Fizz bites back a growl, "Only because Mammon is greedy and cheep, nothing can top the original, I still do shows throughout all of hell. And the robot that's replacing me? It's part of a line of sex dolls. So clearly, my popularity isn't going down hill anytime soon. I would say I can't say the same for you, but you would have had to have actually been popular for it to be true."

Blitz snarls, "Ugh, you think you're so much better than every other imp here. You'd be nothing without those limbs of yours."

Fizz tenses, "Shut up. I'm allowed to think I'm better than everyone because I am better. I'm definitely better than you, I always have been. You couldn't even make a stupid balloon animal correctly. You're a sorry excuse for a clown."

That makes Blitz snap, and he tackles Fizz, pushing him out onto the stage.

The crowd gasps in shock. And Asmodeus and Mammon rise from their seats, almost insinc.

Fizz snarls angrily, "What do you think you're doing Blitzo?"

"Putting you in your damn place!" He screams, attempting to rip off one of Fizz's arms.

Fizz kicks Blitz off of him and stands up, dusting himself off. He knows he's in front of an audience and reporters, he can't afford to mess up, "Aww is the joke of a clown jealous." He teases.

The audience looks uneasy, unsure if they're meant to laugh at his remark.

Fizz doesn't seem fazed by the lack of laughter. He needs to get the show going and make this look good. "Hah, oh wow." His arm stretches and grabs the microphone, and the spot light focuses on him, "What a way to start a show, huh folks? You know, I told him starting a fake fight wouldn't make anyone laugh."

Blitz hisses, getting back up to his feet and trying to tackle Fizz again.

But Fizz just slips out of the way, causing Blitz to land on his face. The audience laughs.

Fizz joins their laughter with a smirk, "Well, that's one way to make a fool of yourself, that's for sure." He makes his way to the center of the stage, a smile on his face, though, he's mindful not to lose track of Blitz, "Anyways folks, we have a great show for you today, the new face of Lu Lu Land is here to present himself. And don't worry, it ain't the fool who can't seem to catch a break."

Blitz scowls and is about to make another attempt to attack Fizz when he's pulled off stage by security.

"I'm happy to introduce, the only thing that could possibly fill the big shoes I've left after leaving this place, can I get a drum roll folks?" Fizz calls out, a big smile on his face.

The audience humors him, doing a drum roll, as Asmodeus and Mammon sit back down.

Another spot light clicks on and the curtain opens.

"The robotic Fizzarolli!" He says, gesturing to the robot who bows. Fizz hands the microphone off to him and stretches up to Asmodeus' viewing box.

As the show continues, it's mere background noise to Ozzie who looks over Fizz, very worried.

"Are you alright? Did he hurt you?" Asmodeus asks as he checks the imp for injuries.

"I'm fine Ozzie. I'm honestly surprised he had the balls to do that." Fizz replies, he was mostly fine after all, just a few scratches. Though he could feel pain emanating from his lower back, he wasn't about to tell the already worried prince that.

Asmodeus shakes his head, "You handled it well, though I doubt anyone is going to fully believe that was just part of the show."

Fizz shrugs, "Eh, they will, as long as I show enough confidence in it, no one will doubt it."

"How do you know that Fizzy?" Asmodeus asks, eyeing the reporters.

Fizz sighs, "Its not that first time that dick weasel has tried to ruin one of the shows by doing that. I've learned all his tricks now though, it ain't easy to keep me down. I'm a resilient little thing." He says with a smirk.

"And Mammon just let him keep performing with you?" Asmodeus asks in utter shock.

"Yeah, well, Mammon has never been too worried about my safety, besides the worse he is, the better it makes me look." Fizz replies, sitting in Ozzie's lap, "Don't worry about it too much, just relax and enjoy the show."

Asmodeus nods his head a little, trying to do just that, but I was hard. While it wasn't surprising to learn that Mammon didn't care about the little imp, he was. He may not know the full extent of the imp's injuries but just watching the fall he knew it must have hurt, "Are you going to be okay to perform at the club tonight?" He asks softly.

Fizz looks at Asmodeus in surprise, he'd never had anyone care enough to ask that after Blitz pulled a stunt like that, "Wha-? Yeah Ozzie, I'll be fine, I'll just take a few more pain killers for my back."

"So you are hurt?" Asmodeus asks in a hushed shout.

"Well, I mean, a little I guess. But it's fine, I'm fine." Fizz says, both for himself and for Asmodeus. He couldn't let a little stunt like that rattle him.

"Should we leave early? I'll let you rest and get yourself a break." Asmodeus says, starting to work himself up.

"Are you crazy? The reporters will definitely notice if we go and that will only cause trouble." Fizz whisper shouts, as much as he appreciates Asmodeus' concern for him, this was not the time or place for him to express it.

Asmodeus looks sadly at the little imp, "But, he hurt you."

"Oh Ozzie, it's alright, I've been beaten up worse than that and still got back on stage." Fizz replies, trying desperately to not be an asshole towards the only person to ever show what felt to him like genuine care.

Asmodeus sighs, "Alright little one, but after the show, we're going to leave the party early to get you cleaned up and so you can have some well deserved rest before the show at my club."

"Okay, okay, fine. But really, you don't need to, I'm okay." Fizz replies, honestly really content with the idea of being able to relax and not run from performance to performance. He stretches a little and a quiet whimper escapes his lips as a chorus of cracks come from his spine, each one a painful pop.

Asmodeus eyes widen, he wanted to stand up right then and take his Fizzy home. But he knew Fizz would only get mad at him for babying him like that. He wishes the imp hadn't been through so many years of abuse with Mammon. Maybe then he'd be more willing to let Asmodeus take care of him.

Finally, the show comes to an end and the audience files out. After the regular attendees leave, the royalty makes its way to a separate tent for the after party.

Fizz sits himself on Asmodeus shoulder, hoping him not moving around as much and staying close to the demon prince would help Asmodeus feel better about the whole situation.

And it did, Asmodeus felt a lot better knowing the little imp he was so deeply in love with was safe on his shoulder and no one would dare to even attempt to touch him.

Of course the reporters come swarming, asking a million questions.

"Fizzarolli, was the attack really part of the show?"

"Do you still work for Mammon or are you soley working for Asmodeus now?"

"Are you and Asmodeus a couple?"

Fizz resits the urge to groan, all the questions were making his head hurt, he clears his throat and gets down.

"Alright, alright, give me a second will ya? Anyways, yeah the attack was all an act, it was all coordinated ahead of time and I'm completely fine." Fizz starts to explain, "I do still work for Mammon but Asmodeus is the sole owner of my contract. And that last question is just laughable, a little imp like me with the embodiment of lust? Come on now, you're just looking at things that aren't there." He says with a laugh.

Asmodeus keeps a straight face but couldn't deny the last answer Fizz gave stung, he wanted to be with Fizzarolli, he truely did. But now he was almost certain that the imp who had captured his heart didn't return the burning feeling he felt in his heart everytime he saw him smile.

Fizz gets back onto Asmodeus' shoulder and as the reporters go away he sighs in relief, "Sheesh, those assholes never get off my back. Sorry about the last answer, I know we fucked and all but neither of us need that absolute shit show of press. I mean, can you imagine how they would have twisted that?"

"Mhm." Asmodeus says absent mindedly.

"Ozzie? Is something wrong?" Fizz asks concerned.

"Yeah... Yeah, everything is fine. I'm not feeling well either, we should head home."

"Oh, uh yeah, okay." Fizz says, now worried that he did something wrong.

Within a few seconds they're back at Asmodeus' house, sitting together on the bed.

"Okay spill, what's buggin you Ozzie?"

"Fizzy... I... I love you."

[extendedrealitykkg]

Week 5

Lecture

This week we learnt about interaction design for VR.

We learnt about navigation and wayfinding in VR environments/using VR systems, and UI/UX design for VR.

We also learnt about design thinking, and how to use an iterative process when designing something instead of going straight from a problem to a solution, ignoring the many factors that need to be considered when designing such as user needs.

We also focused on the users (primary, secondary, and tertiary), and learnt about how design involves almost co-creating with the users, as you need to observe, talk to, and/or put yourself in their shoes to understand their needs, and get feedback at multiple points in your iterative design process while you attempt to solve a problem with design.

We also learnt about prototyping and going from a concept to a demo, and evaluation, usability testing and gathering data about the designs.

Image: Some notes from the lecture

Self-Portrait

This week I decided to finish up my self portrait so I could export it to Sketchfab.

I quite liked the arms I had removed from the design last week, and remembering the feedback I had gotten to add more elements to the box to make the design more balanced, I added them back.

This time, I also drew up cartoony hands and added a fun bracelet in each wrist, to keep in line with the youthful, childlike image of the jack-in-the-box.

I saved the file as .fbx and used Landing Pad to upload it to Sketchfab. After doing so, I realised the thumbs on the hands were not facing the correct way, so I went back to fix it.

Images (above): One thumb facing the wrong way

Image: Corrected thumbs

I also took this time to look closely at the design from different angles and fix some minor mistakes I had missed. and clean up some areas such as this extremely uneven border and pom poms.

I also added a wind-up key to the back of the box so that no matter what angle it was viewed from, there would be some interesting element there. The front shows the full face view on the clown, the sides show the clown side profile and its arms sticking out, and the back shows the wind-up key.

I also brought back the streamers from a previous iteration of the jack-in-the-box, in order to see why they were not working and how they could be changed or improved.

The problem is that the brush strokes used to make them are spiked at the tip, which clashes with the rounded shapes used almost everywhere else in the design. There is no consistency or pattern to how they are place in the 3D space, and some of the sizes are drastically different. It looks very inconsistent and chaotic compared to the jack-in-the-box design.

In the following re-design, I used the same flat ribbon-like brush to draw the streamers that I used for the frills around the clown's neck, so the two elements are similar and there is some more consistency in the design. I also used a looping brush stroke instead of having a straight line, to match the arms and to make the streamers look more like they would in real life if they were falling.

Lastly, I checked over the design to see if it looks alright when viewed from various different angles.

[likeapray3r]

I’ve always done what I thought I should do. I thought I should support as many people in your life I could. I did it over and over again. I wanted to be a part of something, i wanted to be a point of safety and compassion to you and everyone you loved. I would go out of my way, always. I did it until the blood in my body started moving too thickly under my sudden thin skin. I spent so much time putting other people before myself. I thought that was love,I thought it was sacrifice. Constant sacrifice made me sick. Constant dismissal of my own wants and needs picked away at me like an ice pick but instead of forming an elaborate ice sculpture with all the pickings it just picked my bones, picked my innate desire to exist on this planet and be a whole human. I turned into small fragments to fit into your world. Your world. I knew my world could not exist there. There wasn’t any space for me or any of my things or any of my people. Your world. I spent my time filling my chest with anxiety, constantly. For your world, it meant becoming a martyr to your life. To give kisses whenever you wanted. To pick up the phone or else. To forget what I had planned for myself in my mind and do whatever you wanted to do. To talk about whoever you didn’t like behind their back. To love the people in your life without knowing them at all. I had the space for all of it, but myself. To make your home feel more like home, while my home was absent, filled with everything that was me before this, in boxes. I packaged myself up for you, didn’t even poke any holes to breathe. You liked me when I made as little noise as possible, and stood still. You liked me when I played a role. I liked it too if it meant making it work. The sicker I got as time went by displayed the love I had. Boundary-less, dedicated, and depleted. I felt so depleted. I became scared to make my own decisions, and I know that’s not me. At first I would second guess, then I would third guess, then I would guess and guess and guess until I couldn’t make any more movements until you gave me a thumbs up. I felt so robotic, a humanoid with no sense of self. I was so scared to upset you. I would even grocery shop with only you in mind, and I’d feel bad every time I got something you didn’t like. I felt so removed. Like my body was here and I was somewhere else. I felt like I couldn’t speak up for myself at all anymore. I felt like I had no right to. If I say the wrong thing, you’ll get angry at me. If I’m upset about something, I should bite my tongue. I bit my tongue long enough to carry all of the sacrifice I’ve added on until biting my tongue off. I couldn’t hold the weight anymore. I couldn’t be what you wanted me to be. I made myself sick fitting into your world. To fit into your world meant to cut loose on each and every one of my morals, my boundaries, my safety. I put on clown shoes for you and I did my little dance until I couldn’t. Until my body ached.Until I just couldn’t take it any longer. To live in your world meant I had to become nothing. To accept what I can get. I had to be nothing for you to love me. I had to agree, always, and if not it was like receiving lashings every time I’d speak up. Talk to me circularly until I forget you didn’t hear why I spoke up about it in the first place. I know my feelings weren’t considered, and I know staying quiet was the only way there would be peace between us. The truth is, I know you didn’t care if I was happy or not. It made you happy to know I was there and I just went along with whatever you wanted. It meant I had to throw out any and all conditions I had made for myself in love in the year apart, none of which you knew about. I told myself I would never throw myself out again, and at the palm of your hand, not only did I throw myself out but I killed off a part of myself I wanted to see shine and grow because I know you couldn’t love it. You could never love my perspective. I couldn’t create anymore when I killed off my perspective. It was my sole purpose in this life. I killed myself for you. Why did I do that all for you.

[raybyanothername]

Sloan's Rosary: Chapter Seventeen

It was lunchtime by the time we finished with the attic. Most of its contents had been loaded into the back of Saddie’s truck, bound for the dump he would stop at on his way out in the morning. Lily’s box remained and Adrian had repacked all the Acker family albums into a single box. He’d put all the family records and a few handmade linens in there as well.

Everything else was being donated. Clothes, quilts, the odd musical instrument. The downstairs was equally sparse outside the dining room. The furniture was all loaded up in Killian truck with the rest of the donations.

“I was thinking we should check to see if Mrs. Lewis wants any of it for her shop before I take it to the Goodwill in Wharton.” Killian gestured with his fork as he talked. A bite of Darcy Smith’s casserole fell on to the table.

Adrian nodded, keeping his mouth firmly shut as he chewed through some of Mrs. MacDonald’s infamous pot roast. A Herculean effort really.

“The bedrooms are all that’s left, right?” Hask asked as he pushed himself out from the table. His own plate of leftovers from the wake empty. He looked at Saddie, “You find the medals yet?”

“No,” Saddie sighed, not looking up from the plate of mashed potatoes and sausage he’d been poking and pushing around with his fork. I’d yet to see him take an actual bite.

Drew swallowed his own mouthful of pot roast, “We’ll find them.” I nodded in agreement.

“Saddie, Hask, and Drew can take Abe’s room,” Adrian pointed at them with his empty fork, “You’re more likely to find the medals in there. Killian can help me with Adam’s old room. I don’t think there’s much left, but we might find a few of his paintings.”

He was letting me go through Sloan’s room. Alone. I could see Drew looking at me sideways, his back just a little straighter than it was a minute ago. Even Saddie froze as the realization washed over him. He looked up at me, eyes meeting mine. I nodded.

In a few more minutes I was standing in front of that yellow door again. I ran my fingers over the dandelions on the left, above the handle. They were raised a little. The paint too thick and uneven to spread. I smiled as I felt them.

Abe had put everything up. Ginny had sent the bulk of Sloan’s things back here. Some of her father’s paintings a few of her favorite mementoes were back in my apartment in Nevada. All her clothes were in the closet, her costumes hung properly and her shoes lined up in the floor according to heel size.

 “He always said I could come home,” Sloan’s voice echoed in my head. A soft and happy chirp, “No matter what.”  I took a seat on the bed – her favorite purple sheets were stretched over the mattress and one of her grandmother’s quilts overtop.

If the oil painting of the Grand Canyon were hung across from the bed instead of in my hallway this room would be the same as it had been in high school. With an additional layer of dust. And the smell of Abe’s cologne. It was more woodsy than the scents Sloan wore.

“He missed you,” I ran my hand over the quilt beneath me, tracing a decorative seam. Abe had mourned Sloan alone. Here. In this room. “I shouldn’t have left.” I wiped at a few stray tears that tried to fall. “I should have been here for him.”

The ache returned to my arm. I flexed my fingers. The ache didn’t spread. I took a breath, I stood. The closet was the easiest, so I started there. Sloan’s costumes could all go to the high school drama department. Her shoes to Mrs. Lewis’ thrift store.

“The rest can go to Goodwill,” I leafed through the closet. My lower jaw shook as I held in a sob. I’d seen her wear every one of these things. Seen her smile and laugh in the petticoats, dance in the flapper dress. There was even a clown costume –bought specially to walk through the library to freak out the librarians when she picked me up.

I folded most of the clothes before separating them into piles. I took more time than was necessary perusing her bookshelf. The titles were all familiar – The Art of Acting, Audition, An Actor Prepares. And a copy of every single novel I’d published.

“Into the Heart was my favorite,” Sloan blurred in my vision beside me. Her hand stroked the spine of the book. I reached up, grabbing it from the shelf. A warmth spread from my hand.

Sloan was gone when I turned to face her. I blinked. “Sloan?” I whispered, worry seeping through. I turned my book over in my hands. It was the first and last romance I’d ever written – based loosely on the stories I’d heard about Adam and Lily.

The ultimate birthday present for Sloan when she turned 25. That had been the goal, anyway. The pages were crinkled in the center. Something trapped within the pages. I opened it and a slim flicker of gold caught my eye before it fell to the ground.

“Our locket,” I smiled as I sunk to the floor. The slim gold cord already weaved through my fingers. The pendant wasn’t quite circular and when I pushed open the locket it made an infinity loop. I had a matching one sitting in my jewelry box in Vegas.

Sloan giggled in my head, “Henderson, Sarah, Henderson.” I chuckled. Rubbing my thumb over the smooth metal. Inside was a photo from my 21st birthday. We’d crammed ourselves into a photo booth and made a bunch of silly faces. The one in question had Sloan with moose hands behind my head and my glasses on. I was squinting at the camera, pouting.

“Watch ya looking at?” Jordan’s voice made me jump. I smiled when I saw him in the doorway. I held up the locket and he came closer, leaning over to look. He grinned, “You had long hair?” I nodded, pulling the locket close to look at it.

“I cut it about a year later before I took the pictures for my author bios,” I told him, tracing the edge around the picture. I squinted up at him, “What are you doing here?”

He shrugged and took a seat on the bed behind me, “Drew was driving Hask crazy apparently, so Saddie texted me.” I blinked at him. Sloan was giggling in my head.

“They’re across the hall,” I turned my head from him to glare at the doorway he had come through. Jordan chuckled, slow and nervous. He was worried about me too.

Sloan’s hand ghosted over mine, drawing my eye back down to the locket. “Worrying is caring. Caring isn’t a bad thing.” I huffed. She was right. And she was Sloan. The Sloan I loved, not the one that scared me.

“Alright,” I took a breath and looked over my shoulder at Jordan, “If you’re going to be here, you can help.” I gestured to the nightstand, “There’s probably not much in there, but go through the drawers.” Script pages and old papers were all I expected.

That was all that was in the bottom drawer, along with more candy wrappers than was sanitary. The top drawer was another matter. The first thing Jordan pulled out was a small wooden box – smooth wood with a small silver closure on the front. I recognized it instantly when I turned to put a stack of books in the donate pile.

“That’s Abe’s,” Jordan paused in opening the box at my voice. When he looked down he undoubtedly saw the medals and ribbons that made up Abe’s military commendations. I walked over, “What’s it doing in here?”

I felt a pull on my arm. I stumbled to the ground. The ache in my right arm began to spread again – a burning feeling that pressed against my muscles. A tingling leeched my fingers of any feeling on one side, replacing the ache with a sudden buzz. I struggled to push myself up, the fingers of my left hand scrapped at the wooden floors.

“Sarah!” Jordan’s voice sounded distant, though I could see him crouching in front of me. I was gasping. The tingling was creeping up to my shoulder. The ache was pulling at my ribs. There was nothing, nothing from my whole right arm. Like it didn’t exist. And that hurt. A strange cramping.

I pushed myself over on to my side, my left wrist twisting against my palm. “Sloan?” I choked on her name, the ache pushing at my lungs. My chest was burning even as a chill moved over my body. I couldn’t see her. I couldn’t hear her.

There was nothing but the ceiling. The wooden planks weren’t discernable and as I squinted to make out the individual boards I discovered I had not lost my glasses. They were there. But my vision was a blur. It was as if I was looking through a thickening mist.

“Sloan!” I called out for her again as a dark shadow edged around my sight. There were other shadows dancing around me. People. My brothers. I opened my mouth, trying to speak. My voice screeched. There was a pressure wrapping around my throat like a ribbon that was tightening around a present. It ached and it tingled.

As the dark around my vision moved in from the edges I felt a different pressure on my left fingers. A warmth that was so foreign. I focused on that. On the feeling of something. On living.

“Sarah,” the voice was beside me, close. It scratched my inner ear. Rough as it dug into my mind. “Come on, Sarah.” It was raw.

Something hit my cheek. A dull thud that echoed as it slid down my cheek. It burned on my skin, ripping through my cheek before it dropped from my chin onto my neck. A blur of sensation that brought tingling as it spread outwards from the trail to the rest of my face.

I gulped in air as the tightness in my throat loosened. Coughing, my body arched up. My spine clinched as a spasm shot through me.

Saddie’s face appeared before my eyes as the darkness receded. His eyes were ringed red and his face pale. He was crying. The tingling was replaced in turn by an aching. He grew fuzzy – a blurry pink blob that went in and out of focus.

“Saddie,” I breathed out, gasping hard, still struggling for air. I pushed at my left arm to try to raise my hand. I heard a distant thud and felt a sudden bloom of tingling from my right wrist. The numbness replaced by pinpricks. The sensation spread up, erasing the burning ache that was still pulsing through the rest of my body.

I watched a blurry hand moved over my eyes to touch the side of my face, “I’m here, Sarah.” The press of his skin to mine sent out a flurry of tingles. It was an electric shock that sent heat through my face. Warmth that spread quickly through my cold skin.

Closing my eyes I listened to his heartbeat as it pulsed from his hand. I heard more thuds – distant – and scratching. A dull screech that repeated over and over. Over and over. I tried to open my eyes, tried to push up with my arms. To sit up. To move.

“Stop!” the screaming echoed in my head. A desperate plea – the voice was hollow. It trembled and repeated, “S-st-stop!” Again and again. The voice was familiar. Near. Loud. Sloan. I tried to speak, to call her name, “STOP!”

My eyes flew open, spine arching and clinching. I was alone. The space around me a rainbow of greys meshing together like snow on a television. It was silent – a soft buzzing filling every bit of space in my ears.

I tried again to speak, to call for Sloan, for Saddie, for Jordan or Adrian. For Drew. For Hask or Killian. No noise came. My mouth didn’t move. My eyes moved rapidly, searching, but my breathing didn’t quicken. My lungs didn’t squeeze. My body was frozen – not in fear, not in panic. Just. Frozen.

In a sudden whoosh, they grey mesh flew past me. I was back in Sloan’s room. I recognized it only by the wooden planks on the ceiling and the pale yellow paint I could see on the walls.

Blood began to seep out from the yellow paint. It dribbled down to the floor in slow lines. The red coated the walls so thoroughly that they gave off almost an orange gleam. It bubbled out. It spread. And it pooled

The warmth I felt before from Saddie’s hands slowly escaped my body as the blood rose up around me. I tried to move my head, my fingers, even my ears. Nothing budged. The blood was cold. I could feel it grazing over my skin, slurping beneath my body and stroking higher and higher.

I squinted up at the ceiling. There was no blur or fuzz in my vision now. But I could find no clue or hint carved into the wood. Just more blood. It seemed embedded in the veins of the wood, flowing through them, racing towards the walls.

The warmth reached my face. Splashing against my cheeks. Babbling like a creek as it rose higher around my ears. It pressed into my mouth, rolling down my throat like a fast-paced river. It coated my esophagus and my tongue was consumed in copper. It bursts into my lungs, gushed through my stomach.

Drowning is supposedly the most painful way to die. It didn’t seem like drowning. I didn’t feel any pain. Just the movement of the blood, of this red-brown liquid that invaded the few senses I had. It sloshed. It gurgled. My hair and my clothes were stuck, matted to my body by the force and nature of the liquid.

I blinked rapidly when it rose to touch my eyes. My vision darkened again, hazing over. First red, then black. It rose still higher.

-.-.-

The next chapter is up on my patreon and will be public March 31st. You can also support me over on ko-fi.

[bosspigeon]

#ZEVRAN ARAINAI HAS BEEN MY MAN FOR 11 SLUTTY SLUTTY YEARS could we not slut-shame the poc character?

bitch i was talkin about me