#so its not even ''bad'' money necessarily

[the-letter-s]

man the violent cognitive dissonance between "I need to do everything in my power to get out of this house because my abusive fathers mental health is clearly declining which will make things Worse" vs "If I take advantage of my moms offers to help me get the fuck out of here I am Abusing My Class Privilege And Therefore Should Suffer The Fate Of Die"

[rimouskis]

when I first started my job, I'd often overplay my emotional detachment to it because I had moved from a high-emotional/personal-involvement industry into a soulless corporate one.

and to, like, justify that decision and explain it to my high-emotional/personal-involvement peers from that old industry, I'd be like "lol I don't really care, you know? the job suits my skill set and I can do it, so it's all good:)"... but I've come to the realization that I actually really enjoy doing the labor of my job and it's weirdly hard to admit that!!

[irregodless]

the answer is yeah winston probably deserved all that but not everyone else

[sunhalf-a]

@daisyscape : ✍️ + okay listen... najma viper     /     accepting.

“Did you get to see Jamil today?” Ruhee asks, and Najma laughs, nodding, scooping the tiny girl into her arms.

“There you are.  I’ve been looking for you.”  Ruhee gives a sheepish smile; she always seems to disappear around bedtime.  “And I did!  It was nice.”  Her smile goes a little mischievous as she considers how she’d tormented him; that’s her job as little sister, though.  “It’s been a while since I’ve seen him in person.”

“Luckyyyyy,” Ruhee replies, almost pouting.  “We haven’t seen Kalim in aaaages.”

Najma shifts her against her hip.  “It’s not that long ‘til his next break.  Maybe your big brother come home this time.”  She hopes so — she’d sooner die than let Jamil find out, but it had been hard, last break, to be without her brother when she’d expected him home.  She can’t imagine it’s easier on Kalim’s brothers and sisters.  “How about I text Kalim tomorrow and we try to arrange a video call, so you guys can all see him sometime this week?”

“Yaaay!  That’d be so fun!  You’re the best, Najma!”

“In exchange, you have to go to bed really quiet tonight, and not give anybody any trouble, okay?”

“Booooo,” Rugee whines back, and Najma laughs.  “But okay!  I’ll tell everyone, and we’ll be soooo good tonight.”  Najma laughs again.  They’re all good kids — the Al - Asim family is, in a lot of ways, made up of especially good people.  They’re kind.  Kalim is kind; she knows that.  She grew up with her brother, serving the family like her family’s always done, and even if she wasn’t as close to Kalim as Jamil was, she’d never been all that far from him, either.  Jamil had protected her from becoming anyone’s personal servant, and kept her as far from Kalim as possible, but they grew up together; there had been times, between the distance and her own quiet resentment, when Kalim felt as much like her older brother as Jamil did.

Those moments never lasted all that long, though.  It only ever took a word from either of her parents — fearful in a way that she was too young to understand — or a thoughtless word from Kalim himself to remind her of what they were.  She — her brother — all of them...at the end of the day, they weren’t family.  They were servants, born into an impossible task, a role that none got to choose.  Najma cares for the Al - Asims, she does, but as she tucks Ruhee into the large bed piled with other children (  not because there isn’t madol and space enough for each to have their own room, their own wing, but because the siblings simply love one another in a way that’s all - tactile  ) she thinks of what she is.  She is their servant.  She is not their equal.  She’s not their sister.  At the end of the day, she’s not, really, even, allowed to be their friend.

And, every one of them, too sweet and too ignorant to see it.

She closes the door, she smiles, she stretches her arms above her head.  She misses her brother.  She misses Kalim, in between moments of splicing resentment she’s never been able to shake (  omah, omah, why can’t jamil play with me?  /  he has to entertain kalim, dear, you know that —  ) but above all, she misses her brother.  And she hopes he’s happy, with his friends.  He’d seemed happy when they met, in his own way.  He was away from Kalim, who Jamil ——

Who Jamil always said he loved.  Who, Najma noticed, even if no one else does, Jamil resents.

She wonders how things are at school.  She wonders if Kalim has figured it out yet, that no one can be his friend when they were born to serve him.  She wonders how long until she’s all grown up, when she can leave this place, when she can be more girl than servant.  She wonders that her parents never did, and wonders if it would be a betrayal to leave them.

Then, her head shakes.  There’s no use dwelling on things like that, things that ache.  Not when there’s still work to be done before it’s time for her, too, to go to sleep.

[vamptastic]

time to make some online purchases and not be nervous about it at all not even a little bit

[colleendoran]

Great Big Good Omens Graphic Novel Update

AKA A Visit From Bildad the Shuhite.

The past year or so has been one long visit from this guy, whereupon he smiteth my goats and burneth my crops, woe unto the woeful cartoonist.

Gaze upon the horror of Bildad the Shuhite.

You kind of have to be a Good Omens fan to get this joke, but trust me, it's hilarious.

Anyway, as a long time Good Omens novel fan, you may imagine how thrilled I was to get picked to adapt the graphic novel.

 Go me!  

This is quite a task, I have to say, especially since I was originally going to just draw (and color) it, but I ended up writing the adaptation as well. Tricky to fit a 400 page novel into a 160-ish page graphic novel, especially when so much of the humor is dependent on the language, and not necessarily on the visuals.

Not complainin', just sayin'.

Anyway, I started out the gate like a herd of turtles, because  right away I got COVID which knocked me on my butt. 

And COVID brain fog? That's a thing. I already struggle with brain fog due to autoimmune disease, and COVID made it worse.

Not complainin' just sayin'.

This set a few of the assignments on my plate back, which pushed starting Good Omens back. 

But hey, big fat lead time! No worries!

Then my computer crawled toward the grave.

My trusty MAC Pro Tower was nearly 15 years old when its sturdy heart ground to a near-halt with daily crashes. I finally got around to doing some diagnostics; some of its little brain actions were at 5% functionality. I had no reliable backups.

There are so many issues with getting a new computer when you haven't had a new computer or peripherals in nearly fifteen years and all of your software, including your Photoshop program is fifteen years old.

At the time, I was still on rural internet...which means dial-up speed.

Whatever you have for internet in the city, roll that clock back to about 2001.

That's what I had. I not only had to replace almost all of my hardware but I had to load and update all programs at dial-up speed.

Welcome to my gigabyte hell.

The entire process of replacing the equipment and programs took weeks and then I had to relearn all the software.

All of this was super expensive in terms of money and time cost.

But I was not daunted! Nosirree!

I still had a huge lead time! I can do anything! I have an iron will!

And boy, howdy, I was going to need it.

At about the same time, a big fatcat quadrillionaire client who had hired me years ago to develop a big, major transmedia project for which I was paid almost entirely in stock, went bankrupt leaving everyone holding the bag, and taking a huge chunk of my future retirement fund with it.

I wrote a very snarky almost hilarious Patreon post about it, but am not entirely in a position to speak freely because I don't want to get sued. Even though I had to go to court over it, (and I had to do that over Zoom at dial-up speed,) I'm pretty sure I'll never get anything out of this drama, and neither will anyone else involved, except millionaire dude and his buddies who all walked away with huge multi-million dollar bonuses weeks before they declared bankruptcy, all the while claiming they would not declare bankruptcy.

Even the accountant got $250,000 a month to shut down the business, while creators got nothing.

That in itself was enough drama for the year, but we were only at February by that point, and with all those months left, 2023 had a lot more to throw at me.

Fresh from my return from my Society of Illustrators show, and a lovely time at MOCCA, it was time to face practical medical issues, health updates, screening, and the like. I did my adult duty and then went back to work hoping for no news, but still had a weird feeling there would be news.

I know everyone says that, but I mean it. I had a bad feeling.

Then there was news.

I was called back for tests and more tests. This took weeks. The ubiquitous biopsy looked, even to me staring at the screen in real time, like bad news. 

It also hurt like a mofo after the anesthesia wore off. I wasn't expecting that.

Then I got the official bad news.

Cancer which runs in my family finally got me. Frankly, I was surprised I didn't get it sooner.

Stage 0, and treatment would likely be fast and complication-free. Face the peril, get it over with, and get back to work. 

I requested surgery months in the future so I could finish Good Omens first, but my doc convinced me the risk of waiting was too great. Get it done now.

"You're really healthy," my doc said. Despite an auto-immune issue which plagues me, I am way healthier than the average schmoe of late middle age. She informed me I would not even need any chemo or radiation if I took care of this now.

So I canceled my appearance at San Diego Comic Con. I did not inform the Good Omens team of my issues right away, thinking this would not interfere with my work schedule, but I did contact my agent to inform her of the issue. I also contacted a lawyer to rewrite my will and make sure the team had access to my digital files in case there were complications.

Then I got back to work, and hoped for the best.

Eff this guy.

Before I could even plant my carcass on the surgery table, I got a massive case of ocular shingles.

I didn't even know there was such a thing. 

There I was, minding my own business. I go to bed one night with a scratchy eye, and by 4 PM the next day, I was in the emergency room being told if I didn't get immediate specialist treatment, I was in big trouble.

I got transferred to another hospital and got all the scary details, with the extra horrid news that I could not possibly have cancer surgery until I was free of shingles, and if I did not follow a rather brutal treatment procedure - which meant super-painful  eye drops every half hour, twenty-four hours a day and daily hospital treatment - I could lose the eye entirely, or be blinded, or best case scenario, get permanent eye damage.

What was even funnier (yeah, hilarity) is the drops are so toxic if you don't use the medication just right, you can go blind anyway.

Hi Ho.

Ulcer is on the right. That big green blob.

I had just finished telling my cancer surgeon I did not even really care about getting cancer, was happy it was just stage zero, had no issues with scarring, wanted no reconstruction, all I cared about was my work. 

Just cut it out and get me back to work.

And now I wondered if I was going to lose my ability to work anyway.

Shingles often accompanies cancer because of the stress on the immune system, and yeah, it's not pretty. This is me looking like all heck after I started to get better.

The first couple of weeks were pretty demoralizing as I expected a straight trajectory to wellness. But it was up and down all the way. 

Some days I could not see out of either eye at all. The swelling was so bad that I had to reach around to my good eye to prop the lid open. Light sensitivity made seeing out of either eye almost impossible. Outdoors, even with sunglasses, I had to be led around by the hand.

I had an amazing doctor. I meticulously followed his instructions, and I think he was surprised I did. The treatment is really difficult, and if you don't do it just right no matter how painful it gets, you will be sorry. 

To my amazement, after about a month, my doctor informed me I had no vision loss in the eye at all. "This never happens," he said.

I'd spent a couple of weeks there trying to learn to draw in the near-dark with one eye, and in the end, I got all my sight back.

I could no longer wear contact lenses (I don't really wear them anyway, unless I'm going to the movies,) would need hard core sun protection for awhile, and the neuralgia and sun sensitivity were likely to linger. But I could get back to work.

I have never been more grateful in my life.

Neuralgia sucks, by the way, I'm still dealing with it months later.

Anyway, I decided to finally go ahead and tell the Good Omens team what was going on, especially since this was all happening around the time the Kickstarter was gearing up.

Now that I was sure I'd passed the eye peril, and my surgery for Stage 0 was going to be no big deal, I figured all was a go. I was still pretty uncomfortable and weak, and my ideal deadline was blown, but with the book not coming out for more than a year, all would be OK. I quit a bunch of jobs I had lined up to start after Good Omens, since the project was going to run far longer than I'd planned.

Everybody on the team was super-nice, and I was pretty optimistic at this time. But work was going pretty slow during, as you may imagine.

But again...lots of lead time still left, go me.

Then I finally got my surgery.

Which was not as happy an experience as I had been hoping for.

My family said the doc came out of the operating room looking like she'd been pulled backwards through a pipe, She informed them the tumor which looked tiny on the scan was "...huge and her insides are a mess."

Which was super not fun news.

Eff this guy.

The tumor was hiding behind some dense tissue and cysts. After more tests, it was determined I'd need another surgery and was going to have to get further treatments after all.

The biopsy had been really painful, but the discomfort was gone after about a week, so no biggee. The second surgery was, weirdly, not as painful as the biopsy, but the fatigue was big time.

By then, the Good Omens Kickstarter had about run its course, and the record-breaker was both gratifying and a source of immense social pressure.

I'd already turned most of my social media over to an assistant, and I'm glad I did.

But the next surgery was what really kicked me on my keister.

All in all, they took out an area the size of a baseball. It was  hard to move and wiped me out for weeks and weeks. I could not take care of myself. I'd begun losing hair by this time anyway, and finally just lopped it off since it was too heavy for me to care for myself. The cut hides the bald spots pretty well.

After about a month, I got the go-ahead to travel to my show at the San Diego Comic Con Museum (which is running until the first week of April, BTW). I was very happy I had enough energy to do it. But as soon as I got back, I had to return to treatment.

Since I live way out in the country, going into the city to various hospitals and pharmacies was a real challenge. I made more than 100 trips last year, and a drive to the compounding pharmacy which produced the specialist eye medicine I could not get anywhere else was six hours alone.

Naturally, I wasn't getting anything done during this time.

But at least my main hospital is super swank.

The oncology treatment went smoothly, until it didn't. The feels don't hit you until the end. By then I was flattened.

So flattened that I was too weak to control myself, fell over, and smashed my face into some equipment.

Nearly tore off my damn nostril.

Eff this guy.

Anyway, it was a bad year.

Here's what went right.

I have a good health insurance policy. The final tally on my health care costs ended up being about $150,000. I paid about 18% of that, including insurance. I had a high deductible and some experimental medicine insurance didn't cover. I had savings,  enough to cover the months I wasn't working, and my Patreon is also very supportive. So you didn't see me running a Gofundme or anything.

Thanks to everyone who ever bought one of my books.

No, none of that money was Good Omens Kickstarter money. I won't get most of my pay on that for months, which is just as well because it kept my taxes lower last year when I needed a break.

So, yay.

My nose is nearly healed. I opted out of plastic surgery, and it just sealed up by itself. I'll never be ready for my closeup, but who the hell cares.

I got to ring the bell.

I had a very, VERY hard time getting back to work, especially with regard to focus and concentration. My work hours dropped by over 2/3. I was so fractured and weak, time kept slipping away while I sat in the studio like a zombie. Most of the last six months were a wash.

I assumed focus issues were due (in part) to stress, so sought counseling. This seemed like a good idea at first, but when the counselor asked me to detail my issues with anxiety, I spent two weeks doing just that and getting way more anxious, which was not helpful.

After that I went EFF THIS NOISE, I want practical tools, not touchy feelies (no judgment on people who need touchy-feelies, I need a pragmatic solution and I need it now,) so tried using the body doubling focus group technique for concentration and deep work.

Within two weeks, I returned to normal work hours.

I got rural broadband, jumping me from dial up speed to 1 GB per second.

It's a miracle.

Massive doses of Vitamin D3 and K2. Yay.

The new computer works great.

The Kickstarter did so well, we got to expand the graphic novel to 200 pages. Double yay.

I'm running late, but everyone on the Good Omens team is super supportive. I don't know if I am going to make the book late or not, but if I do, well, it surely wasn't on purpose, and it won't be super late anyway. I still have months of lead time left.

I used to be something of a social media addict, but now I hardly ever even look at it, haven't been directly on some sites in over a year, and no longer miss it. It used to seem important and now doesn't.

More time for real life.

While I think the last year aged me about twenty years, I actually like me better with short hair. I'm keeping it.

OK. Rough year. 

Not complainin', just sayin'.

Back to work on The Book.

And only a day left to vote for Good Omens, Neil Gaiman, and Sandman in the Comicscene Awards. Thanks. 

[min-gis]

A LESSER MAN. — choi san.

pairing. fighter!san x fembodied!reader

synopsis. there's only so many ways of calming san down, especially when it involves him losing a fight.

genre/warnings. angst, san is pissed and gets borderline violent with woo, injuries, swearing, implied mxm towards the end, smut ! mdni .

word count. 4.3k

HE LOST.

It’s always a bittersweet feeling, to receive the text from Wooyoung. It doesn’t happen often, but on the rare occasion that it does happen— oh, is it bittersweet.

The makeshift bed in the back of the van is far from comfortable, you think. It’s not comfortable at all, you realize with a sigh escaping from your lips. Nothing about the current situation is comfortable, really. 

It’s about to get a whole lot more uncomfortable, though, you bitterly realize.

Because yes, the makeshift bed and the humid air is uncomfortable — it’s horrible, even — it’s still about to get worse. 

Something Wooyoung confirms when his thumb comes down to press send before shoving his cracked phone down the front pocket of his pants. Something Wooyoung confirms when the text comes through on your phone, when Wooyoung confirms what you fear every time San steps foot into the ring.

He lost.

It’s not necessarily the losing. It’s not the fact that he lost that’s the problem, nor is it the loss of money. You don’t care, and while Wooyoung might make it seem like it’s the only thing he’s in for — the money that San brings in every time he wins yet another fight — you know he doesn’t care either.

San, however, does.

Something he makes very clear every time he does, in fact, lose.

Today isn’t going to be any different, you suppose.

‘’You’ll win tomorrow,’’ The back door leading into the building slams open, followed by Wooyoung’s muffled voice. He’s annoyed, you realize. Not that you expected any less.

‘’Fuck off,’’ The voice that follows causes you to squeeze your eyes shut. If Wooyoung is annoyed — you’re not sure just what San is.

Judging by the way he raises his voice and the sound of what you can only make out as a fist colliding with the side of the van, you figure he’s beyond annoyed. He’s enraged, perhaps infuriated, even.

But just like you excepted for Wooyoung to be annoyed — you already knew that this was coming.

Fury. Rage, even.

You don’t have to look at the two men to know just how the current situation is playing out. You already know Wooyoung is running his fingers through his hair in an attempt to calm himself down, in order to calm the other male down. 

It never works, you know that. Wooyoung, too, knows that.

‘’Don’t fucking touch the van,’’ Wooyoung’s voice comes out muffled thanks to the walls of the van shielding you, but the annoyance lingering behind his words doesn’t go unnoticed. ‘’Not the fucking van, take your anger out however you please but not the van, you hear me?’’’

It’s the silence that follows that causes you to reach for the door handle. The cold night air happily greets you as the door slides open, and while you’d like to embrace it for just a while longer — the mixture of anxiety and worry that runs through your body prevents you from doing so.

It’s not until your feet hit the concrete ground and you take a step forward to look around the corner of the van that you realize just how bad it is.

And how bad it’s about to get, too.

You can’t see his face from where you’re standing, not that you need to. His disheveled black hair and ultimately ruined white tank top tells you enough. The dried blood that’s forced its way into the once white fabric, though, tell you that it’s worse than you thought.

And if it wasn’t because of the dried blood, it’s the way his fist grab onto the shorter males shirt that tells you just how bad it actually is.

‘’Who paid for that fucking van, huh?’’ San spits as he presses his forehead against his friends. Wooyoung doesn’t respond, instead, he just stares at the man standing a mere inch away from him.

He’s used to it, you think. While it’s horrible, it’s also good, you realize. It’s good that he doesn’t respond, because neither of you knows just what might happen if he would’ve. None of you wish to find out, either. ‘’That’s right,’’ San hisses at the lack of response, ‘’Fucking I did. My fucking blood and sweat paid for that van, so don’t think you have any right to tell me what the fuck to do.’’

Only then do you realize just how bad it truly is.

‘’San.’’

You’re not sure if you managed to conceal the shakiness lingering behind your voice, you hope you did. You truly hope you did. Wooyoung’s eyes flicker over to you, and even though not a single word leaves his lips — you know what he’s trying to convey.

Thank you, and get him off of me before I make it worse.

The silence that follows is almost deafening. You just watch as your boyfriend's back heave up and down, a result of the fight that had just taken place and the adrenaline still running through his body. You’re about to part your lips and call out to him again, until his previously clenched fist relaxes.

You watch as Wooyoung stumbles backward, a result of San using his palm to push him away. A low wince leaves his lips as his back collides with the building, and for a split moment you wonder if you should check up on him.

You don’t. You want to, but the way he looks over at you through hooded eyes tells you not to. It’ll make things worse.

Standing up straight, Wooyoung runs his fingers through his hair before a low hiss leaves his lips. ‘’Get your shit together,’’ He hisses as his eyes land on the man standing in front of him. ‘’Do whatever the fuck you have to do, just get your fucking shit together and then we’ll talk.’’

The air feels heavy as he slips back into the building, sending one last stare your way before slamming the door shut behind him. 

Please sort this out.

Suffocating, almost. It feels suffocating, standing in the quietness of the night. Not a single noise besides the sound of people yelling further down the street and San’s heavy breathing, and it feels suffocating. 

Fuck.

While you already knew what was coming the second the ping of your phone informed you that he had lost, there is only so much you can do. There’s only so many ways of preparing yourself, because frankly, you have no idea how it’ll play out.

It’s different every time, how it plays out. It’s always the same — the anger, the raised voices — it’s always the same. But beyond that, you have no idea just how it’ll play out.

And while violence isn’t uncommon, it always takes you by surprise. And the lingering fear never changes, either. Not that you expected it to. Nor do San, you think. He knows, and he hates it just as much as you do.

Perhaps even more.

You watch as his gaze meets the ground, and you don’t need to see him to know that he has his eyes closed. The way he clenches his fists tells you that he’s trying to calm himself down. You know it’s not going to work. So does San.

‘’San,’’ 

It’s not as stern as your first attempt. It’s softer, still stern, but far from angry. You want him to look at you, to let you see him. He doesn’t allow you to.

His gaze remains on the ground underneath him as a small sigh leaves your lips. His gaze remains on the ground even when he hears you walking towards him — even when he feels your hand graze his back — he refuses to turn around to look at you.

Your fingers trail over the spots of dried blood, taking in the small cuts left on his exposed shoulders. You go to touch them, only to earn a low whine from the male and his body jerking in response.

It’s not until your hands gently grab onto his shoulders and slowly turn him around that he allows you to look at him.

And as soon as your eyes land on his face, you understand his anger. And as the realization of what had actually gone down slowly begins to settle in, you realize just why he refuses to look at you.

Dried blood decorates the corner of his lips, accompanied by a fresh cut to his cheekbone. He looks horrible, you realize. 

It’s more than just losing a fight to him, it’s about his dignity, as well. His feeling of feeling worthy. Of feeling needed, of feeling wanted. Something winning gives to him. Something losing rips away from him.

‘’Oh, San,’’ You breathe as your hand comes up to cup his jaw, tilting his head to the side to get a proper look at his face. His gaze remains on the ground, refusing to meet your own. ‘’What did they do to you?’’

Your thumb comes up to gently graze his cheekbone, feeling him clench his jaw under your touch. ‘’It’s nothing,’’ He mumbles, so low that you almost don’t hear him. ‘’I’ll win tomorrow.’’

His words cause an ache to spread across your chest. You don’t care if he wins. You couldn’t care less whether or not he walks out of that building with thousands and yet another victory, you care about him.

And this — his eyes low and his voice hoarse — causes your heart to break.

Your thumb runs down the side of his face before pressing it against his chin. ‘’Look at me.’’ You command, tilting his face upwards. You just stare at him as you wait for his eyes to meet yours, and when they eventually do, you feel your heart crumble even further.

Sad, sorry eyes meet your own and you think you might start crying right there and then.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry for not winning, I’m sorry for lashing out.

You don’t care. You don’t care about any of it.

‘’Come here.’’ 

It’s all you have to say. It’s all you have to say for his arms to come up and wrap themselves around your figure, pulling you closer to him. You let your arms fall down onto his shoulders, your fingers quick to slip into his hair. 

He dives into the crook of your neck, his nose brushing against your skin as he does. You can feel his heavy breath fanning across your skin as you gently massage his scalp, his chest expanding into your own with every shaky breath.

There’s nothing you could ever do to stop your boyfriend from fighting. He treasures it, he loves it — he thrives off of it. There’s nothing you could possibly do or say that would ever stop him from doing what he loves, it comes in a package, he once claimed. Him and fighting, you sign up for both when you get him.

You don’t want to, either. You don’t wish for him to stop. Despite how scary and messy it gets, you don’t wish to stop him.

So when it does get messy, the least you can do is comfort him. Make it less scary, even if it’s just for a moment.

‘’It’s okay,’’ Your words come out mumbled, but comforting, nonetheless. ‘’You’re okay.’’

San just breathes against your skin in response. You’re not saying it for him to respond. You’re saying it to comfort him. To soothe the anger still lingering.

‘’I was so close,’’ You barely hear the words as they slip past his lips. They’re mumbled, and you’re not sure if he’s saying it for you to hear or if he’s saying it for himself to hear. To make a point. A statement even. ‘’I was so, so close.’’

You just hum in response. You’re not sure if he wishes for you to respond, yet you do. You hum as your fingers gently thread through his hair, pressing a chaste kiss onto the side of his face. Chaste, but comforting. ‘’I know you were.’’ 

You don’t know. You don’t know just how close he was to actually winning, but you tell him you do. That you do know. Because despite not being there to witness it, you still know. His anger proves to you just how close he actually was.

And how much he despises himself for not winning.

The feeling of his lips leaving a wet kiss onto your skin takes you by surprise. Your fingers massaging his scalp come to an abrupt stop as he does, his warm lips pressing against your cold skin sending shivers down your spine. 

‘’I’m sorry,’’ He mumbles as he presses another kiss onto your skin. ‘’I’m sorry for scaring you,’’ Another one, ‘’I’m sorry for not winning,’’ Another one, this time his hands placed on the small of your back pushing you firm against his body, ‘’I’m sorry for being such an ass,’’

The feeling of his teeth slightly sinking into your skin causes a gasp to leave your lips. Your hands slip out of his hair, your fingers grabbing onto his shoulders in an attempt to stabilize yourself. It doesn’t work, at least not when you feel his tongue running over the spot where he had just sunk his teeth into.

You already know where this is heading.

‘’San,’’ You breathe. His name trailing off your lips causes him to look up at you — only after leaving one last kiss on the skin of your neck — allowing your gaze to meet his.

One of his hands comes up your side, gently squeezing it before grabbing onto the side of your neck. He tilts his head, eyes low as he looks down at you. ‘’Let me show you how sorry I am?’’

You’ll always be there to comfort him. Each and every time, you’ll be there — waiting to console him.

So you nod. And as soon as you do, his lips crash against your own — hungrily, urgently, even. Like he might crumble if he doesn’t get to kiss you right now, right here. You feel the same way as his hand comes up from its previous position at the side of your neck, cupping your jaw as his rough fingers slip into your hair in an attempt to pull you even closer to him.

It’s rough, the way his tongue slips into your mouth and muffles the moan that almost leaves the back of your throat. The taste of the dried blood in the corner of his lips coats your tongue, a taste so disgusting yet so pleasing.

It’s not about how sorry he is. You know it isn’t. The urgency behind his movements and the slight metallic taste lingering on his tongue tells that it’s not about how sorry he is, not at all, really.

It’s about him, him and his disappointment in himself. It’s about him needing a distraction. Solace, even. Something that’ll allow him to escape the burning in his chest — and you — you might be the best distraction of them all.

You’ll always be there to comfort him. And with one of his hands running down your back, nails digging through the fabric of your shirt — you realize that this time is no different.

Rough hands grab onto your waist as they force you back down, and you realize the makeshift bed is just as uncomfortable as it always is.

The flooring is rough on your knees, despite the blanket you had previously laid out to prevent it from being too rough. The thin fabric doesn’t do much, though. You didn’t expect it to, either.

And while the flooring might be bruising your knees with every bounce, it’s far from being as rough as he is, you think.

‘’San,’’ His name barely slips past your lips, your voice giving out halfway through as he snaps his hips forward. His hands force you back down onto his length, meeting his thrust halfway. The harsh snap of his hips makes it hard to speak — and you think he might want it that way.

The leather of his pants sticks to the back of your thighs with every bounce, leaving such a foul and filthy sound to echo through the closed space. The sound of leather sticking to sweaty skin, leather pants pulled down his thighs just enough to allow his member to spring free.

Rough, raw and filthy.

One of his hands comes up to grab the back of your neck, fingernails threatening to dig into the skin of your neck. A grunt rumbles through his chest, a guttural one — an angry one — laced with undeniable lust. ‘’Look at me.’’

It’s a command. A command he follows up by allowing his nails to sink into the skin of your neck, forcing your head back. A command you follow, your half-lidded eyes meeting his own. His clenched jaw and droopy eyes are enough to pull a whine out of you, a whine he then forcefully pulls out of you as he slams your lower body back down.

His grip tightens as the whine trails off your lips, ‘’Such a good girl, just for me, right?’’ His voice is still laced with both anger and lust as he asks, only this time you hear the slight fear lingering in his words, too.

‘’Fuck,’’ He doesn’t give you a chance to respond as he continues slamming his hips into you from underneath, ‘’Don’t even fucking deserve you, do I?’’

Fear that he’s not good enough for you.

Fear that you’re just as disappointed in him as he is in himself.

His fingers slip into your hair, allowing his fingers to intertwine themselves into the strands before forcefully tugging your head backward. The action pulls yet another whine out of you, a painful one. A pain he soothes by diving forward and running his tongue across your now exposed throat, his dry lips leaving a wet kiss behind. 

You wish to tell him that you’re not disappointed in him. That the anger he feels deep within isn’t something you reciprocate, that his actions and his losses don’t define who he is.

He doesn’t wish to hear it, though. So you don’t. You don’t lean forward and embrace him, you don’t whisper in his ear about how you love him and how he can’t allow times like this to consume him.

Instead, you force yourself down his length for the nth time — pulling yet another grunt out of him.

He wants you to console him, so you do. You console him in the only way he’ll allow you to.

‘’I hope every single person in that building can hear you,’’ He grunts against your skin, teeth nibbling on your skin, ‘’Let them hear how good I’m fucking you, show them just how fucking good I am,’’

They know, you think. They already know, and if it wasn’t because of the way he had fingered you against the cold metal of the van a few moments prior — the way your movements now slightly rocked the van most definitely told them.

‘’Tell them, baby, show them.’’

The hand that had just been grabbing onto your hip quickly shifts position, sneaking down to place three fingers against your clit. The action causes you to jolt against him, his fingers pushing firmly against you as you do. ‘’Fuck,’’ You whine, desperately rocking your hips against his fingers — something that causes a hum in approval to leave his chest.

He needs more than that, though, you realize. He wants more than that.

Something he tells you by tugging even harder at your hair, forcing your head back even further as his fingers begin to rub quick, harsh circles over your clit. ‘’I said fucking tell them,’’ He hisses against your skin.

‘’San,’’ You whimper, far from what he wants, yet it seems to somewhat satisfy him as he grunts against your skin. It’s all you have left to offer him, your voice hoarse and throat slightly aching from the current position. ‘’Want you to come,’’ He hisses against your throat, almost commanding you, in a way.

A command you desperately nod at in response. A command you’re more than happy to follow.

‘’Want to hear you, too,’’ He continues, his fingers never stopping and neither does the thrusts, ‘’Want everyone to hear as you make a mess all over my cock,’’

You don’t need to be told twice. A broken moan spills past your lips as you sink your fingers into his shoulders, your hips stilling as your orgasm washes over you. While your movements stilled, his doesn’t — his fingers still desperately rubbing circles over your clit and his cock buried deep within you.

‘’Good girl,’’ He praises, ‘’Fuck, don’t deserve to feel you like this,’’

You’re too far gone to even hear his mindless rambling, too busy coming down from your orgasm to even focus on what he’s saying. You know it doesn’t matter, it’s just mindless rambling, after all.

Things he doesn’t mean.

His hand slips out of your hair, pulling you firmly against his chest as he allows you to rest your forehead against his shoulder. Broken moans and whines spill past your lips as he chases his own orgasm, riding out your orgasm at the same time. 

You know by the desperate grunts leaving his lips and the sloppy thrusts that he’s close, so you bring your hands up to gently cup his face.

‘’Fill me up,’’ You breathe into his ear, ‘’You deserve it.’’

Three words. Three words is all it takes for a groan to rip through his chest and for his hips to snap forward one last time, cock buried deep within you — so deep that it slightly hurts — before he spills into you.

A pleased hum leaves your lips as he slightly trembles in your touch, his cock twitching as white ropes of cum paint your walls. Your thumb comes down to gently stroke his cheek, the skin sticky from the sweat and the humid air — lips pressing a soft kiss onto the same sticky skin.

One last breathy groan leaves his lips before he relaxes underneath you, hands that had just been gripping onto your hips falling down his side. 

You stay like that for a while. Chests pressed against one another, your thumb gently stroking his cheek as your face remains buried in the crook of his neck. He doesn’t pull out — you don’t want him to — and neither does he.

He wishes to stay buried within you forever. Until he psychically can’t anymore.

‘’I’m sorry.’’

He’s the first one to speak up. His voice is hoarse as the words slip past his lips, hands coming up to wrap around your waist. It’s loose, the way he holds you — but still comforting, nonetheless. 

You just shake your head in response.

He has nothing to be sorry about, you think. ‘’Don’t.’’ You seal your words with a soft kiss on his throat, a kiss that tells him to stop.

‘’I’ll win tomorrow, I promise.’’

His words cause you to pull away, your hands still placed on either side of his face. The look you’re met with as your eyes land on his face slightly tugs on your heartstrings, his eyes low and a cheap smile plastered on his lips.

Like he’s trying to convince you. That’ll he win tomorrow, that he won’t disappoint you again.

Like he disappointed you in the first place.

‘’You know I don’t care.’’

He hums in response, ‘’I know,’’ He almost whispers.

‘’But I do.’’

You know he does. You know he cares, you know it matters to him. Whether or not he wins, it’s not important to you — he is.

He’s important to you.

You, too, hum in response as your thumb comes up to soothe the red, irritated skin by his eyebrow. ‘’I know you do,’’ You mumble, carefully running your thumb through his eyebrow. ‘’And I also know you’ll win tomorrow.’’

Your words tugs the corners of his lips into a smile. A genuine one, nothing like the cheap one that had just decorated his bruised lips. 

You don’t know. You don’t know if he’ll win tomorrow, you never know, really. You never know how it’ll end, and you guess that’s the charm of it all. 

Whether or not he’ll fuck you in the back of the van and allow you to praise him for winning yet another fight, or if he’ll walk out of the building with the same anger he had worn today lingering behind his features — it’s all a part of the job, you suppose.

Of never knowing just how it might end.

‘’You think Woo is still mad?’’

The sudden question causes a chuckle to leave the back of your throat. You tilt your head before pressing a small, chaste kiss onto the corner of his lips. ‘’Yeah,’’ You smile as you pull away, a smile he mirrors, ‘’He most definitely is.’’

A sigh leaves his lips, but the playful smile remains. ‘’You think he’ll forgive me if I let him ride me?’’ His words draw yet another chuckle out of you, one he muffles by pulling you back onto his chest.

‘’I doubt it.’’

With a hum leaving his throat, he leaves it at that.

Wooyoung will have to wait, you realize as one of his hands comes up to gently stroke your hair. It’s sticky and sweaty against his chest. You don’t care. Your knees still hurt from rubbing against the hard flooring for a little too long and he’s still buried deep within you, yet you still don’t care.

You stay like that. Silent, his once rough — now turned soft that the anger has slowly faded away —hand stroking your hair. It’s peaceful, you think. You know San feels the same way.

Just like he knows that whether or not he wins the next fight, you’ll be there to either celebrate or comfort him — you always are, and you always will be.

[tcfactory]

Dumb SVSSS thought of the day is Xuan Su being one breakthrough away from cultivating a human form and making its (his?) newfound ability to speak aloud to other people everybody's problem.

Unity of the Sword cultivators give more of themselves to their bonded blades than people cultivating other paths, because they have to cultivate together with the sword, as partners. It's both a blessing and a curse, making their swords more... aware. It's not unusual for Unity swords to ascend with their masters or to cultivate humanoid forms to become something like a platonic life partner.

Xuan Su is an old blade. A powerful one, expertly if eccentrically crafted (what kind of cultivator would choose a zhanmadao when a jian is so much more ethereal and versatile?) and wielded by dozens of prodigiously talented cultivators before.

Each one of them set it aside, finding it too heavy and unwieldy for their ambitions. Each and every one of them died for it. It could feel through the bond as they each fell, the lighter, sleeker blades they replaced it with crumbling like paper under the weight of the destinies they all bore.

If it stopped calling out to young prodigies after its history of losses things would have been... much the same, probably, because Yue Qi has heard about the power of Xuan Su before he stepped foot in the sword hall, but there might have been a chance that he might have heard the call of a sword more suited to his level of cultivation, one that could have grown organically along with him.

The problem is, Xuan Su keeps calling out to new wielders and no amount of warning from Wan Jian's masters could convince the ambitious prodigies to give up on the chance to be the one who carried the famed Xuan Su to ascension.

After losing too many of its people, however, Xuan Su no longer knows how to bond normally. It clings too hard, hooks its metaphorical claws into its cultivator's soul, crawls through their meridians until there's no boundary left between them.

The last three people who tried to take it up didn't live long enough to unsheathe it.

For good or ill, Yue Qingyuan will be the last one to ever wield Xuan Su. It will either ascend with him, die with him or Wei Qingwei will throw it in the Wan Jian forge where the cursed thing deserves to be if it manages to outlive zhangmen-shixiong.

The thing is, however, that an old sword doesn't necessarily mean a mature one. Xuan Su wasn't wielded enough for its spirit to have matured fully. The only cultivator who even entertained it past the first few months of realizing that fighting with a zhanmadao is an unwieldy affair, that they could never become the picture of divine grace hauling around a blade that gave some polearms a run for their money, has been Yue Qingyuan, so most of Xuan Su's personality comes from him.

A thousand years worth of guilt and abandonment issues mixed with whatever traits it borrowed from semi-feral ex-slave teenager Yue Qi when they bonded does not make for a pleasant personality. It would remind Yue Qingyuan of a young Xiao-Jiu, expect Xuan Su has a brand of unashamed bloodthirstiness that can't be replicated by anything that's not made of 5 feet of sharp-edged murder.

It's not all bad. Xuan Su mourned with him when they though Shen Jiu was dead and rejoiced when they found him again. It has been trying its best to help Yue Qingyuan fight his heart demons so he could confess to Shen Qingqiu, even when it has heart demons of its own. They are beyond compatible in the physical and spiritual sense, granting Yue Qi the almost inhuman strength he became famous for. The mental component of their cultivation stagnates, however, because they are trying to split their attention between dealing with Yue Qingyuan's guilt and Xuan Su's abandonment issues and they are getting nowhere.

It's Shang Qinghua who accidentally gives them the push to pick one or the other. ("All right, enough!" Shang Qinghua claps his hands and freezes the dozen frantic An Ding disciples almost coming to blows about which one of their three separate crises should get the most resources. "You," he points at a kid with a missing front tooth. "All resources to your problem. And when that's done, then to his,-" Points at another child. "- and then hers. This way all of them will get solved on time and they will get solved better because you don't spread yourself thin trying to do three different things requiring full focus at once.") They decide to address Xuan Su's bottleneck because it's easier: Yue Qingyuan has already proved that he would not abandon it. They will ascend or die together.

They don't expect the backlash from its breakthrough to knock Yue Qingyuan out for several weeks (it's the bond stabilizing, finally, but his body and core need time to grow accustomed to only having his qi and his life force, all contained neatly within him as it should have been all these years). Weeks while Xuan Su is left alone on the peaks, unsupervised and without anybody knowing that it currently wears the form of a fourteen-year-old boy.

So of course the first thing it (he?) does is slip away before anyone could identify him and goes to Shen Qingqiu. The plan is simple: chew the man out for making Yue Qi sad all these years and then tell him what went down in the caves so he forgives Xuan Su's human and they can all be a happy family together! (A lot of its previous wielders sought fame to be allowed to wed various people they would not be able to marry otherwise, so Xuan Su might have acquired a passing interest in romance. Xuan Su approves of Yue Qi's choice, Shen Qingqiu is a sharp, very sword-like human and Xiu Ya is a very nice, well-balanced sword, but they really keep dragging things out way too long.)

Except Shen Qingqiu doesn't believe that the suddenly appearing feral teenager on his peak is actually a sword spirit. Swords cultivating human form are the stuff of legends and Yue Qi is far too down-to-earth for any of that nonsense. So clearly this Xiao-Su is an orphan his idiot Qi-ge has adopted; he's certainly feral enough to be one. No idea where Yue Qingquan has hidden this child before, but he's not quite presentable enough to be among the Qiong Ding disciples, despite the wonderfully elaborate clothes he's wearing. He enjoys food like he's tasting decent cooking for the first time, so he must not have been here long. Shen Qingqiu remembers being much the same when he first got to eat regularly, but hiding it much better, thank you very much.

Shen Qingqiu decides that he's going to keep an eye on his shixiong's charge until the man wakes up, because it's obvious that the kid can't be allowed to wander the peaks unsupervised. This decision has obviously nothing to do with Xiao-Su's instant hatred towards the little beast. Nope. Nothing at all.

Xuan Su eventually does manage to tell Shen Qingqiu that Qi-ge came back for him. Yue Qingyuan wakes up and confirms that yes, that bratty rascal is the great and powerful Xuan Su. They eventually learn about Binghe's demonic heritage and go investigating how the hell that has happened. But not before a few weeks of shenanigans and Luo Binghe accidentally winning Xuan Su (and by proxy Shen Qingqiu, much to the man's annoyance) over by the wonders of his godly cooking skills.

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Helloo !! ^^ Its me again ahaha 🙈

Feeling you with the number of RQs ! (': i have a lot of unfinished ones too, and I FEEL SO JORRIVLE FOR SENDING ONE in knowing that💔💔😭😭😭😭😭😭, but this has been in the forefront of my mind 😵‍💫. Please don't feel pressured to respond! 🫣 I won't blame you if you'd rather not to ☺️🙌//

...

Yandere Outlaw, having abducted reader, not at all having had anticipated the strength of their connections.

While reader isn't necessarily strong themselves, they have a strong family, a line of uncles and brothers that are feared across the West for their brutality, their violence, and most notably, their loyalty. This is especially jarring given that reader is the youngest in the family, so of course they would be overprotective over them, as weren't they just the baby of the family, their sweet lil pumpkin?

It's why they are second only to Outlaw himself in terms of criminality, notorious instead, however for how they are willing to kill for blood feud, and to wreak havoc in a bid to avenge anyone that crossed the path of their family member(s).

Now picture this: having heard of reader's abduction, to describe their reaction as fury, rage, even wrath, would all be an understatement. They would be getting together, coordinating a plan, and intending to shoot the damn bastard dead, as scum like him should pay for messing with the wrooong criminals.

Now this brings me to my question: what would Outlaw's reaction be to waking up one day to see not a trace of their darling, their hostage rescued by their cowboy brothers and uncles? (Or something more creative than this,, ^^"" ", i doubt that theyd leave him with lungs and eyes, let alone ALIVE after locating his whereabouts and saving their sweet lil pumpkin, thw baby of the family. My imagination can only take me so far an idk 😓💔)

Would Outlaw go after each individual member of the family down, on a furious witch-hunt in a bid to rescue their darling? After all, Outlaw has been on countless raids riding solo with nothing aside from a horse and his trusty shotgun, became infamous for being the West's deadliest gunslinger, has eliminated the wealthiest businessmen and robbed them of all their money, and made a career out of being a criminal.

Or would he accept defeat? This is clearly not a family to mess with, and it was a miracle that they hadn't put his beheaded head on a stake and set it on fire, condemnimg his corpse. He'd have to be a fool to risk this, wouldn't he? Was reader, his darling, really worth that risk?

Would love to hear your thoughts ! ☺️💞

ALSO SORRU FOE THE REALLY LONG ASKS I FEEL SO BAD BC I GDT CARRIED AWAY JDJSJAJAJASSS 😭😭🙏 PLS FORGIVR ME AAAAAAARRHEHSS

My sweet Anon, we simply must find a name for you ! Your ideas cannot go without an identity to which we can attribute their creation ^^. Thank you so much for sharing your wonderful mind with us <3 !

♡ This occurrence is very in-character for the Outlaw to encounter; albeit never on such an intimate level.

♡ He’s made enemies out of every criminal in the West – namely for resigning them to a life imprisoned while making off with his loot, gifting them a sentence he’d have served himself were he not so adept at the skill of escapism. In the early days when he first started working with other criminals, at least; he’d never make such a mistake now.

♡ You see, the Outlaw is the very definition of work smarter, not harder. So while he may seem as if he’s given up his pursual of you by hanging back, letting you go back to your family and re-integrate with civilised life, he’s tracking you. Watching you. Anticipating your every move.

♡ He’ll find you – eventually – but he won’t swoop in to retrieve you at the first opportunity; he knows that this will simply incur another rescue effort and his imminent execution.

♡ He’ll start to pick off the male authority figures in your family, starting with the weakest (however large and imposing they may be). 

♡ He knows that, without the leader, the pack will scatter, meaning that there will still be some of your family he missed during his executions – members who could still come looking for you upon discovering your kidnapping (again).

♡ Sure, picking off the weakest ones will put the strongest on-edge, but it keeps them packed together – around you – right where he wants them.

♡ The Outlaw knows of the Reader’s family’s reputation. He’s even met them during the occasional heist; opportunists by trade in their willingness to jump upon the corpse of the Outlaw’s victories as soon as his back is turned. But he also knows none are as keen and accurate a marksman as he, and he uses this to his advantage.

♡ While the Outlaw specialises in short-range firearms, he is more than capable with long-distance ones, too. And, once he lures your protectors away from you, he’ll ensure their execution is swift and unforeseen. He’ll perch atop a sturdy tree branch and steady himself, bringing the head of whoever fell for his diversion into the sights of a Whitworth he dusted off and brought from home.

♡ The minute he knows you’re all alone – that your uncles and brothers and cousins are too busy painting the town red with their bodies to stow you away – is when he’ll swoop in, plucking you out of bed and slinging you over his shoulder as he had all those months ago during your first meeting, winding you as he throws you atop his horse and bolting off into the horizon.

♡ So, to put it simply, Anon: yes. To the Outlaw, you are absolutely worth the effort.

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[asuyaka]

Hello Hello!!📞 Hope ur having a wonderful time zone, author I just wanna say that I have read 2-3 of ur writings and I alr love it! Keep it up! ur writing's amazing.💗 I was wondering if I could request a Geto from jjk fic about him with a Curse! M reader, not a curse user, a literal curse like Mahito. But unlike Mahito the reader doesn't understand human emotions and from observing Geto (after he betrayed jujutsu high and became a cult leader) think's that its normal to kill and hate non-sorcerer's. Reader just sticks around in the shadow's and watches Geto and observer's his behavior until Geto notices and question's reader but after learning that, oh shit this curse is actually pretty powerful he might actually be useful, and promises reader to teach him about human's in exchange of him staying by Geto's side and helping him in his goal. Geto (as time passes) fall's in love with reader while reader get's this feeling that he can't understand when he's with Geto. sorry if this is a lot to ask and if u don't understand what i meant, u can just ignore me and my rambling😅

★ - s'okay lovely, descriptive reqs are jus as interestin' as non descriptive ones! &lt;3

☆ - Cult Leader! Suguru Geto x Curse! M Reader!

♡ - typical Geto stuff! racist ta non-sorcerers, n tha word 'monkey' s'used one too many times (toji only said it once, by that way.)!

Geto remembers finding you— a curse who's stuck by his side ever since he deflected from the Jujutsu world— letched onto the side of a very popular road for couples to hang out and do whatever it was that couples do.

The very first time you two met, he remembers your soft voice, body radiating heaps of untapped cursed energy—untapped potential. Your curled up body, eyes void of emotion looking up at him with something that resembles confusion. "You can see me?"

Ever since then, you've been stuck to his side. While he doesn't think of you as useless, it has taken a bit too long for the potential— the strength he wants to see from you come out.

He's willing to wait, of course, he needs all the help he can get before initiating his plan against Jujutsu High, but there's only so much patience one man can have.

Especially, a man who's already running low on time.

You're accompanying Geto on a trip to a 'money-collecting monkey', as he likes to call them. They went back on their payments to the...cult (?) home (?) and he came to give them some 'personal counseling'—which was what he always said when blood was more than likely to be shed.

"Remember why we're here, [Name]," Geto says as he gets off his manta-ray curse, extending his hand to help you.

You stare at him, muttering a small thank you. "Help the monkey?"

Geto pushes his arms into his sleeves with a smile that makes your tummy churn in discomfort. "And?"

"Work on my cursed technique..." You mutter, kicking a pebble on the ground with an unseen pout working its way on your face. Ever since Geto quite literally found you on the side of a road, you've been his right-hand man ever since. Even if your understanding of cursed techniques and cursed energy is slim to none.

You've always understood in the back of your mind that he needs you for something. He had to—otherwise, he would've turned you into a ball and swallowed it on the spot. He always says how you aren't necessarily a bad curse, but he's never said you were good either.

You've never understood what he meant by that, but by the way Nanako grimaced whenever he said it, you assumed it wasn't a good thing. Without knowing, the pout grew into a frown and you found yourself huffing. Humans and their weird emotions always intrigued you ever since you were born, but you could never understand it.

Which is why you've been with Geto for so long. He's the first human who acknowledged your presence, the first human to act (kind, was it?) around you, so by process of elimination he was your first and only candidate to learn from.

When you two reached the house you overhear Geto whisper something about how the stench of monkeys would get everywhere.

'... Monkeys = bad people, they make Geto angry.' You think to yourself as you rummage through the pockets of the clothes Geto lent to you, bringing out a small spray bottle and handing it to the male beside you.

The action seems to take him by surprise. His smile falters and he stares at the item in your hand for a beat too long, grabbing it with a 'thank you' and spraying it on his clothes with a tight expression.

"Come here, you aren't getting monkey on my curses, or around the house." Geto waves you over, spraying a generous amount on your clothes and on your face. The spiciness takes you by surprise, spluttering as you try to get the taste off your mouth and the burn out of your eyes.

Surprisingly—shockingly even, you hear Geto laugh. It doesn't sound like the one he uses around the curse-collecting or money-collecting monkeys, it sounds like the one he uses around Nanako and Mimiko.

'Geto laughing = good. He's happy or excited.'

The laughing stops but he brings up a finger to wipe the tear that fell down your cheek during the sting. His hands are slightly calloused but soft to the touch. "Come on, let's get this over with. I'd rather stay away from monkeys on my weekends."

Nodding, you follow behind Geto as he walks up to the door, planting three brisk but firm knocks against the wood. You make sure to stay a step behind him, your body stiff and your eyes blank in case the monkey decides to try anything.

The door opens a slither a pair of green eyes widening the second they see you and Geto. "G-Geto-san! What do I owe the pleasure?"

"Good afternoon to you as well, Mr. Ashido. From my understanding, you're to fund my organization with three hundred thousand yen a month, am I correct?" Geto smiles, but it doesn't feel nice like when he smiles at you.

'Monkeys make Geto's smile weird. All monkeys are bad.'

The man nods shakily, his grip on the door faltering slightly. "Y-yes, but I cannot make up with the payments anymore because—"

"Correct me if I'm mistaken, Mr. Ashido, but you were the one who said three hundred thousand, am I correct?" Geto interrupts with a slight movement of his head, his signature bang moving with it.

"But Mr. Geto—"

Then, Geto's smile falls. His nose scrunches up in disgust and his eyes narrow. That means he's going to kill someone.

Before either of you knows what's happening, a surge of cursed energy flows into your hand, and the man's body squishes onto the ground until it pops as if the gravity on his body somehow quadrupled.

Geto's eyes widen, staring at the eyeball that rolled on the tip of his sandals. He turns to look at you, equal parts shocked and amused. "You did that, didn't you?"

"Monkeys are bad, and you looked like you were going to kill him anyway. I'm sorry for acting out of line G—"

"Don't you dare apologize for that." Geto interrupts with a sharp cut to his tone, making you stutter and trip over your words.

'Don't apologize, Geto gets angry. Angry = bad emotion.'

You nod hastily, but the nagging feeling to apologize stretches along your throat, itching to come out. Geto huffs, walking down the stairs and dragging you by the collar. "Seriously, the one time I take my eyes off you, you go change the actual laws of space on a guy?"

"Sor—" You stop yourself midway, remembering how apologies made Geto feel. You opt to stay silent and let him drag you wherever it is he wants to.

As you and Geto ride back home on the manta-ray curse, you see the smile on his face from earlier still hasn't left.

'Killing monkeys makes Geto give Nanako and Mimiko smile. Feels better than what he uses with sponsors.'

"Did I do good, Geto?" You ask absentmindedly, shifting closer to him until your chest is pressed against his back.

Something that resembles a laugh comes out of him, but it seems airy. Still genuine, but not as hard as when he sprayed you in your face. "Yes, [Name]. You did well."

A slight flush and embarrassment creeps up on you, causing you to plant your face on his shoulder. It didn't feel bad, just new. The same thing you feel whenever Geto falls asleep on your shoulder, or when he and you stay on his flying curse for hours at a time, doing nothing but basking in each other's presence.

It feels great, and you're glad to be feeling it with the only human you would put your life on the line for.

[luaveltarot]

🏮🗝 𝒫𝒶𝒸: 𝒜 𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑒𝓍𝓉 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝒾𝑔𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻 𝓉𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊🗝🏮

🌸Pile 1🌸

Main theme- You know how to use your energy in moderation and it doesn’t necessarily need to be equal. Work smarter not harder. Things are not as bad as it is in head.

You seem to be at a place in life where your attention is either divided into two things or you have to collectively think about multiple things at the same time or you simply find yourself teary eyed because you can feel the stress of something new beginning in your life. Your higher self wants you to not fuss over something which can’t have your attention rn. It’s ok to prioritise something new over something old ( just apply however it resonates with your situation), it just wants you to know just like how a little salt works well with sugar in dessert, same way you can work with situation at hand. Yes maybe if you decide to use equal proportion of salt and sugar in dessert then obviously it won’t work out. Or another example could be you feel stuck between a friend and a love interest on who to reply first because both decided to msg you at the same time yet your friend needs you more at that time, you don’t have to feel guilty over ignoring your partner. Even if it’s related to a routine where you decided to go on a diet or you had to take care of your fitness or your hobby is craving to create an expression then go for it even if it means you need to take a day off from work and keep your pay at stack. At the end the day, you don’t have to feel guilty about not balancing things out, if things work out in imbalances then feel it and stop bemoaning over what you couldn’t do just because things don’t work out ideally for you.

Another msg your higher wants to let yk is that focus on your health and well being. Yes your studies and work should be your priority because it will apparently build your future but if your health will deteriorate then how do you except to work efficiently. Same goes for being in a situation with friends or in family, you need to unlearn and break certain patterns, set boundaries. Take as much time as you need to recharge yourself in solitude and don’t feel isolated from the world. The world can wait for you. Nothing changes if changes.

Even if its a business related stress then you can put more money and eat less expensive food for awhile. If sacrificing something temporarily gives you gain in future then take the risk.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊

🕯Pile 2🕯

Main theme- Don’t take life too seriously. Get to know yourself more. Take your own time to decide what’s meant for you and what’s not. Eliminate the conditioned thoughts or better system, come up with your own so you can make a path for yourself which speaks to you and it doesn’t have to make sense to others.

It’s time to trust yourself pile 2. Your higher self wants to guide you inwards rather than outwards which makes you rely on external sources or already formed social institutions. Your higher self wants you to not stretch so much that you break a ligament but enough to make you feel better. Don’t isolate yourself from the world but also don’t let the world govern your internal pattern of thoughts. You don’t need to have each step planned instead you can take mindful actions with each step and see what transpires next. Remember to be flexible because life is dynamic, the only constant is change, the people in your life, where you stay, your car, your friends will all change in life, it’s only you who knows yourself more, it’s only you who gets to decide what will be best for you, nobody knows you like you know yourself so how can you expect others to decide for you. It’s not fair. Your soul, your true essence is constant. Let your intuition, your soul help you navigate yourself. Don’t box yourself In any category or try to be neutral, be free and let the path illuminate the reasons behind the journey.

Your higher self wants you to explore, you can’t always try already tried or true patterns because it has always worked for others. Instead it wants you to reflect, dive inwards, meditate, contemplate or journal. Look things will always balance itself out be it consciously or unconsciously, like you keep breathing in and out or even you blink your eyes to give rest to them even it’s for a millisecond.

Don’t forget to have fun while you’re in this self discovery mode. Don’t consider yourself boring or internal work boring. Make yourself fun for yourself. Be mindful and enjoy to get to know you. It’s not weird to talk to yourself or enjoy only your company. In fact it’s weird if we don’t have any bonding with our soul. You will never regret if you rely on yourself. Come up with your own system of beliefs, your own concepts and your own inner understanding.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊

🔑Pile 3🔑

Main theme - Look at this breakdown as breakthrough. Find order in the disorder. Learn to take things lightly. See things from a perspective where it’s happening for your good and not lament it. Don’t unnecessarily overthink, flow with the wave which universe has orchestrated for you.

Your higher self wants you to know that what may have been uncomfortable initially will ultimately lead you towards a path which is more in alignment to your highest calling. What seems ruined, missing or wiped out from your life has actually made space for something new to come into your life. Figuratively speaking, you may feel as though your whole forest was ruined due to forest fire but if you see it with a better perspective you may realise your land needs a rest to regain the soil health so that you can plant trees in a specific design in accordance with their benefits. You can use that rest period to plan for how you will want things to be. We think that things are not in our control, this thought comes from our ego, if ego was not there then we wouldn’t have felt so shaken up instead we would have let the universe take hold and do what’s best for us. At least the outcome wouldn’t have felt so devastating. Your higher self wants you to just be and not think of ways to interfere in what’s already happening because you will only drain all your energy and there will be no strength left to pick yourself up.

Rn you can think that your career seems to take downhill but maybe see this as a redirection to think of a new career or you failed a subject and that subject has nothing to do with your life’s purpose. You had a break up which make you feel devastated and lost, later you’ll find someone who respects your worth, better than your ex.

Tbh don’t try to control life, life is dynamic and no phase lasts too long ever. Try to take things less seriously and enjoy the process even if it’s the worst phase of your life. It’s teaching you something which you swept under the rug. This phase wants you to take out that discarded or ignored lesson out, learn it and then burn it. You can’t ignore problems, you have to acknowledge them because it’s a facet of life that you need to add to your personality, to make yourself wiser and to closer to your higher self.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊��𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊

[utilitycaster]

@notstinglesstoo replied to your post “The thing is, and I haven't gotten a chance to...”:

I saw someone not long ago say cr has always felt like a product to them vs D20 feeling organic and I protected my peace but I did want to ask them if they were brain dead

​Oh man I wanted to address this at length because I feel this. My posts have been centered, again, specifically on published journalists picking Daggerheart aprt critically and applauding themselves for doing so despite it being within a couple of hours of its release and therefore any analysis is necessarily going to be based on at best, a skim, when they just as frequently will claim D20 seasons/Kollok are flawless works of genius based on only a partial read, but man D20's got a fandom problem too. (and all of the following comes with the caveat of "I really enjoy D20, and Dropout, and while we're at it WBN and NADDPod which both are half D20 Intrepid Heroes cast, and think Brennan is a particularly brilliant GM, and also it's obvious that the D20 and CR casts are on great terms, and wish the fandom for D20 were more welcoming and enjoyable because I feel it wasn't like this when I first started watching, as a CR fan, in late 2019 and has since curdled into something really weird and bad.")

The first point is the obvious one: technically speaking these are both products. These are performers doing an art form; it is also a portion of how they make their money with which they can buy goods and services. Believing that art is inauthentic when the artist gets paid and acknowledges that is a thing that happens is a fucking libertarian position at best. Like cool, you think only people who are independently wealthy by other means can make art, because it's not real labor, my kid could paint that, etc etc.

The second point is also pretty obvious. I have pushed back pretty hard on the "uwu CR is just watching friends! it's like we're in their living room" mentality among the fandom, which has decreased, thankfully, but like...it did in fact start organically as a private home game, and they decided, when invited, to make it A Show For An Audience. D20 was created on purpose as a show for an audience. This doesn't make it bad or fake - reread the previous paragraph - but in terms of "this is an group of people who really played D&D in this world together even before the cameras were rolling," Critical Role literally is that, and D20 is not.

I think beyond that...my biggest issues with the D20 fandom are first, the level of discourse is abominable. The tag is almost always just shrieking praise and the most surface-level readings possible. I keep bringing up the "Capitalism is the BBEG" mug but it genuinely sums up so much of how I feel; people who want their existing beliefs fed to them as surface-level no-nuance takes. I mean capitalism is fucking terrible but I do not need every work I watch to have a character turn to the camera and say "capitalism is bad" to enjoy myself, and indeed it makes it harder due to the lack of subtlety and grace. For all D20 fans complain about how unhealthily parasocial CR fans can be (and some can be), I find that a lot of the most unhealthily parasocial "how dare they BETRAY my TRUST by having a ship I don't like or not speaking up about every single societal ill" ex-CR fans move over to D20 and then pull the exact same shit; it simply doesn't get called out. Every time D20 fans are like "we don't want to become the CR fandom" it's like "your toxic positivity and unhealthy parasocial behavior exceeds the HEIGHT of what I've seen in CR; the main difference is that CR started in 2015 when D&D was still shaking off the raging bigot dudebros and so in the early days it acquired more of those fans, whereas by the time D20 came around the landscape of who played D&D and watched Actual Play had shifted wildly, and you need to judge September 2018 D20 fans in parallel to September 2018 CR fans, not September 2015 CR fans."

I also feel, and I alluded to this in the post about journalism, and other people have said this better than I have, but the pedestal people have put D20 on does feel like a single...not even misstep, but just, difficult choice that doesn't capitulate to the loudest fans will bring a good chunk of that fandom crashing to the ground. And that includes the journalists. For all the fans of CR can still be obsessed with the cast to an unhealthy degree? The cast and company have put up pretty strong boundaries and have not budged. D20 hasn't, and I think the second they do - and I think it will be for their benefit as a company and a channel - a big chunk of their most vitriolic CR-hating portion of the fandom will viciously turn on them.

[honeycloudz]

let me be Anonymous since im going to ask-No beg for the cringest one🙏

(p1:who's she?

p2:Haitani's

p1: which one? the youngest's?

p2: nhh both of them)

I means Just image being the wife of Haitani brothers's/their precious and only treasure ofc their personal c*mdump tooTvT.

alr this's kinda weird but Writing this or not is your choice

anywayy Loves you and please takecare of yourself

-s🍁

Stargirl Interlude (☆)

Content Warnings: DARK CONTENT, MDNI, Porn with Plot, Toxic!Dom!Ran & Toxic!Dom!Rindou x Fem!Sub!Reader, Alcohol mentions, Stalking, Forced into Contract, Dub! Consent, Degradation theyre so mean :(,  Possessiveness, Dumbification, Unprotected Sex, Oral (Female to Male Receiving), Throat Fucking, Rough Sex, Hair pulling, Spit Play, Choking, Nipple Play, Overstimulation, and finally Squirting

Playlist: Belonging to the Haitani's

My apology for disappearing again, not proof read

You should know better, you tell yourself as you walk down the busy streets of Roppongi’s nightlife. You should know better than to play with the infamous Haitani brothers. Truthfully, you were just trying to get your life together, and money is money, so you took a chance on that sketchy ad from a week ago, unknowing that it would lead you here.

Squirming, you pull your mini skirt down, in a failed attempt to cover yourself from prying eyes as you walk your way down to the club. Even from a distance your eyes catch the glimmering signs, and you can feel the bass of the speakers beneath your high heeled feet. You get closer, to the club, noticing all the intoxicated people staggering in and out of the Haitani’s club in varying levels of inebriation. 

It was too late to have second thoughts, so you mentally prepare yourself as you take a step into the very lively club. Loud music blares in your ears as you squint and try to walk around the sea of bodies that are dancing. You don't necessarily like the thought of sweaty drunk bodies bumping and grinding up on you, so you choose to find an easier route. Looking around, you almost give up before sharp lavender eyes meet your own. Your breath hitches but you don't look away, you try to ignore the chill working its way up your spine at his menacing gaze. 

Seconds that feel like hours pass as you hold eye contact with the dual-dyed short purple haired man. You were intimidated but intrigued. 

And Ran saw that in you- he noticed you right when you walked in, all panicked and cute. He immediately knew that it was you from the ad you signed up for, he laughed under his breath a bit, you had no idea what you were getting into. 

He breaks eye contact with you momentarily to look at his brother in the booth. They make eye contact and Ran points at you with his chin, nodding off to his brother, to alert him of your presence. When Rindou follows Rans line of sight his eyes meet you and immediately Rindou stands, stalking his way towards you.

You didn't notice Rindou until you felt a hand on your shoulder, making you jump as you turned around and tilt your head up to meet the tall man. “Y/n…?” He questioned even though he knew the answer. “Y-Yes?” Rindou leans into you and your face heats up for a moment as you feel his breath on your cheek before he whispers “follow me”. You almost didn't hear because of the music but he made sure you followed when he grabbed you by the hand and dragged you to the private room only he and his brother had access to. 

Making your way in, you look around in awe. A spacious room with a glimmering chandelier above you was the scene before your excited eyes. You take in more of your surroundings and you realize just how out of place you seem. Twiddling with your fingers, you look up at Rindou unknowing what to do next. He peers down at you, before placing a hand on your lower back and guiding you to the couch, “Sit here please”. He says giving you a smile that seemed sinister rather than kind and you take a seat trying to fight off the bad feeling you were having.

“Its nice to finally meet you Y/n” Rindou knew he was lying, but he had to remain calm and calculated, watching your every move, eyeing your nervousness as you once again try to flatten the short skirt that's hardly covering your thighs. You gulp, “Yeah, Nice to meet you too Mr. Haitani.” your voice drips like honey in his ears. ‘Mr. Haitani’ huh? He’ll make sure to keep that in mind when he’s training you to be his good obedient slut. “No need for formalities, pretty girl, you can use them.. Later.” It almost sounded threatening, which didnt help your nerves. You didnt have much time to think about it when you heard the door creak open, revealing the tall short haired man that was eyeing you earlier. Rindou stood, striding over to his older brother before whispering a few things back and fourth to one another. 

Quickly looking away, you make eye contact with the floor as you play with the hem of your skirt. You look up when you feel a dip in the couch next to you. “Hey” he sighs out dreamily, laying back one arm wrapped around the couch near your shoulder, the other sitting on his man spreaded lap, far too comfortable, far too soon. “I see you like the outfit I sent you to come here in '' Ran isn't ashamed when he's taking in your figure, wrapped in the tightest, shortest, skimpiest clothes he could find for you.

“H-hello, Im Y/n '' you shudder, wrapping your arms around yourself in an attempt to hide from his unwavering stare. The staring had increased your anxiety, it's not everyday that a person meets someone like the Haitanis. “I know who you are sweetheart, Infact, I know all about you” he looks at your shaken form and continues, “Im Ran by the way, Rindou and I are gonna take care of you, financially and in any way you want, isnt that what you need sweetheart?” You blink and nod slowly at him. “In turn, we want you to ourselves. Do you understand?” He lifts his hand that's near your shoulders and begins twirling your hair in between his fingers. After a few seconds of thinking it over, you ask, “What did you mean you know all about me?” you hesitantly and softly ask your question. Ran looks at his brother, almost ignoring your question, as if they weren't the ones that have been watching you for months now. “Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about. Be ours.” You notice the dangerous flash in their eyes, they were not asking you, they were demanding. You stand quickly, “Um, I think I should g-” Rindou cuts you off by standing at the door and crossing his arms. “Sit down. Now. I wont ask you twice.” At his tone you shuffle back to your seat, sitting opposite from Ran in an attempt to back away from the men. “Love.. Don't look so scared, we would never hurt you” Ran cups your face gently, holding your chin between his thumb and index finger that were adorned by shiny rings. He rubs his thumb over your cheek while holding eye contact, “We just need you to sign a little paper for us, then you can have anything you've ever dreamed of, isn't that what you want sweetheart?” Ran questions, leaning in closer, holding your gaze. “I- I don't kn-” “Sign the paper.” Ran’s fingers grow tighter around your face. “I need to think about th-” “Now.”

Rindou grabs your hand and puts a pen in it, continuing to hold onto it as it inches near the signature mark. “Right here, pretty girl.” And against your will, with a hand holding yours to sign a signature, you sealed your fate, selling your soul away to the devils in the room.

Ran had called his chauffeur to drive you home, upon the arrival of his expensive car, you weren't expecting them to hop in the back with you. Sandwiched in between the two muscular men, you tried to comprehend and digest what just happened to you. “What are you gonna have me do?” You apprehensively ask the men next to you, getting more anxious when you hear deep chuckles next to you. “You'll see” Rindou hums under his breath and traces feather light shapes with his fingertips on your knee, working his way up your thigh causing your inhale to get caught in your throat.  You’re very grateful when the car screeches to a halt. Quickly rising from your seat, you avoid Ran’s lap and open the door to hop out. Not waiting for the men in the car, you turn your heel and walk to the direction of your door, hearing their footsteps behind you. You go to shut your door quickly but Ran catches it and forces it open. “Its not very polite to slam a door in someone's face princess, but we will work on your manners soon enough.” Ran barked out at you, causing his brother to laugh much to your dismay, feeling the hotness creep its way up your face. “Oh before we forget, we will be texting you tomorrow on your first command”. Rindou added after catching his breath. You went to sleep that night, questioning everything that happened to lead you to this moment of your life. Because of those two, this is gonna be the beginning of your new everything, whether you like it or not. 

The brothers were patient with you, after all, you had been weary of them the first few weeks of being around them. At this point, youve been ‘working’ for them for about 7 months, feeling much more comfortable around them. Taking things slow, they only recently started asking you for kisses, cuddles and comfort after a long day of working. You obliged of course, it wasn't much you had to do for them in the first place. 

Theyve been paying you well, enough to make a living and be able to quit your shitty job. After really getting to know the Haitani’s and their past, they decided to take the next big step in your companionship together, and ask you to move in with them. Hesitant but ready, you move all your belongings into their penthouse and after a few days, you're finally finished. “Phew '', you sigh out, adding the finishing touches on the wall. You back away and look all around you, framed pictures covering the big wall of you and the Haitani brothers and your adventures. You smile contently when you feel an arm wrap around your waist and a few quick kisses on your nape. You giggle at the ticklish feeling and turn around to see Ran looking down at you, in a more intense way than usual. You tilt your head and look at him for a few quiet seconds, “Is everything okay..?” You ask uneasily when his eyes darken. He leans into your ear and lightly laughs, causing shivers to go down your spine, which doesnt go unnoticed by the older Haitani. “Oh its more than okay sweetheart” he rasps out and bites the spot below your ear lightly. His own heart picks up speed when he hears you whimper, blood rushes to his cock at the sound. He needs to hear more. He doesn't give you time to think when you're suddenly being slammed against the wall, a hand gripping your throat and the other grasping onto your waist tightly. He kisses you hard, his teeth clashing against your own and his tongue finding a new home in your mouth. Muffled squeaks and whines are making their way out of your throat while animalistic groans are coming from his. You place your hands against his shoulders and attempt to push him away which in turn tightens his grip on your throat. Heat pools between your thighs as you get light headed from the feeling. He pulls his mouth away from yours, a line of spit connecting you both, to admire the flushed look on your face, and the drool sneaking its way past the side of your lip at his actions. He laughs and lets go of your throat to swipe away the drool, entertained by the way your chest is heaving up and down to catch your breath. Ran pulls away from you completely and you whine at the loss when Rindou enters your vision. “Somethin’ wrong pretty?” He teases taking in your trembling form. The glint in his eye darkens when he sees his pretty angel squeezing her thighs together. The brothers both stare down at you waiting for a response. You look back at them in desperation and embarrassment, they know what you want, they just wanna hear you say it. “I… I want you both” you manage to say between their nearly predatory peering. “Want us how?” Ran questions back. “Tell us exactly what you want pretty girl” 

You whine and through your embarrassment you squeak out “Wan’ to be fucked by you both, p-please.” 

And then it happens. Youre being picked up and whisked away before you even realize whats happening. You squeal when you're tossed in the air and sink into the comfortable couch of the living room.

Rindou’s kissing you now - kissing you in like you were his favorite taste. Drinking in your breathless gasps as Ran begins unbuttoning your top, letting it fall to the floor and- 

“Fuuuck.” he lets out a low whistle, “Come look at this.”

With an almost-annoyed groan, Rindou pulls away from your sweet lips. Eyes widening as he takes in the sight of you - braless, and exposed shamefully in front of both of them, of course. “No bra?” he mutters raspily. “Always knew you were a lil’ slut, pretty.” But you knew by the way his breath hitches that he liked it.

Ran clearly did too as his mouth attached itself to your pebbled nipple, fingers pinching the other lightly. You let out short breathless gasps of air as his tongue swirls around. Rindou throws his head back as he palms his hard on through his pants and groans. He sits between your thighs as Ran lays to your side, continuing his assault on your chest. 

“I bet she’s got such a slutty pussy too Rin” his brother calls out. “Only one way to see” The poor, flimsy fabric of your short shorts didn't stand a chance as Rindou tears it in two. You squeeze your eyes shut from being so exposed, and when you dont feel touches on you at all you open them to see both men staring at your drenched panties in absolute awe. 

“Ah ah” Ran tuts, seeing the way your thighs were trying to close, holding them down he chooses to not let you have even some semblance of dignity. “Youre gonna be a good slut f’us right?”  You nod your head up and down and gasp when you feel a few kisses from between your thighs, inching higher and higher up. “Use your words sweetheart.” Ran tsks from above you. “Y-Yes I will be, please just- please keep going.” You whine, bucking your hips in the air slightly. In another quick rip your panties are discarded off of you, and Rindou taking opportunity of your distraction dives face first into your pussy. He groans at the taste, of course you were so sweet, so good on his tongue. The taste addictive as your fingers quickly pull and tug on his hair. “Shit, shit, shit” you gasp, pulling him harder against you. He moves his tongue easily against your wet cunt, sloppily, uncaring of the sting on his scalp. 

You get lost in the pleasure as Rindou sucks your twitching clit into his mouth to swirl his tongue around it, making your back arch off the sofa. “Hngh- fuck- Feel’s good.” you whine, bucking your hips wildly.

“Yeah? Ya like this?” Rindou attempts to speak, words muffled around your clit. Sucking and rolling his tongue harshly across it. Over and over again.  Your whines and gasps turn into long drawn out moans as Ran unbuckles and unzips his pants. He pulls his cock out and you gawk at his size. Long, with an angry red tip and a pretty vein that runs on the side, you see the precum sliding down the length of it as he grips the base a few times. 

“Open wide f’me pretty” you let your tongue lol out of your mouth as he grips your jaw, lowering his face to meet your own, teary eyed one before he lets a glob of spit fall directly on to your awaiting tongue. “Swallow” He demands as he strokes his shaft a few times and then groans at the sight of you swallowing obediently. He squishes your cheeks and puckers your lips from his tight hold with one hand and holds his cock with his other hand, smacking it against your mouth a few times before he lets go. Having done that, Ran’s stuffing himself into your mouth. A low hiss leaving the back of his throat as you take him so well, lips bulging around his thick cock. Tonguing at the sensitive slit in a way that makes him lose his mind. 

Gags and sputters of your breath are heard as he holds you down, waiting for you to adjust. Big tears prick the corner of your eyes as you breathe harshly through your nose, slowly bobbing your head up and down. “Fuuuuck” Ran lets out a long groan, “You like being our whore doll?” and he swears he almost cums down your throat when he feels you nod against him, continuing to let out muffled whines at Rindou’s unrelenting pace. 

Maybe it was Ran’s filthy words - so filthy even when he was calling to you sweetly. Or maybe it was the way Rindou was grinding his jaw as he plunged his soft tongue deeper into your plushy walls. Probably it was how they both looked at you - like you were their last meal. 

Because you’re cumming, and cumming so messily all over Rindou’s mouth in a long moan that vibrates against Ran’s cock causing him to shudder, and pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail as he bobs your head up and down.  Rindou pulls away and licks his lips, not bothering to wipe away your cum thats staining his chin and jaw. He pulls down his pants, tugging just enough that his swollen cock springs out, letting his thumb rub against his weeping tip that was dripping all the way down his length. 

And if you thought Ran was being mean then you weren’t prepared for Rindou at all. Not with the way he poked his swollen tip into your snug cunt. Throwing his head back he slowly inches more and more into you, groaning at the heavenly feeling of your tight walls against him. 

“Shit- s’tight, fuck” Rindou lets out a few gasps, jaw clenched, trying his hardest not to just fuck into your overstimulated pussy until you’re drunk on his cock. But damn- its made difficult for him when all he gets in response from you is a choked, wet gurgles. Body bowing into both of theirs as you desperately try to relax both your throat and your cunt.

He tightens his grip on your hips, hard enough that your pretty sure youll bruises tomorrow.

“What do you think, pretty? Want me to fuck this tight lil’ pussy? Ruin you on my cock?” 

Ultimately, the only response he gets is a wet moan.

“Awww, look at her- hah- Cock-drunk little slut can’t even speak.” is the last thing you hear Rindou say as he pushes past your ring of resistance, thrusting in deep and hard into your poor pussy. He pulls back all the way to push back in roughly enjoying the sound of your mangled moans. He hits so deep and angles his cock to hit right against your g-spot. You suck up his cock so fucking sinfully as his heavy balls smack repeatedly your ass, already so wet with your slick and his precum. 

“Fuck, youre so good.” Ran hums, the image of you choking on his cock while you struggle to take Rindou making him dizzy. Rindou continues to reel his hips back, all the way till his tip is just outside of you, before slamming back into your sloppy holes recklessly. Harsh thrusts fueled by the need to make you cum again, this time on his cock. 

Ran taps at your cheek, making you blink your teary eyes up at him, he cant help but want to match Rindou’s pace and pump your mouth full of cum. “Gonna cum all over your pretty face” Ran groans, wrapping his large hand around your throat.

He feels your moans and gasps increase as the sound vibrates around his cock- “Are- fuck- hah- are you close baby?” and all you can do is nod pathetically and cry against him. 

“Fuck, I can feel it too.” Rindou voices from behind, “Squeezin’ me so hah- t-tight” It’s his cue to reach down and start toying with your swollen clit, still so sensitive and sore from before. Drawing little circles on it, pinching with his fingers.

It was hard for them to look at your ruined form, mascara dripping down your face without cumming on the spot, you looked so utterly fucked out that it was almost painful. 

They sped up their pace impossibly fast against you. Rindou’s fingers draw quick circles against your clit, so hard and fast as he hits your g-spot with every thrust he makes. 

“Cmon- fuck- cum for us doll”

This orgasm hits you more intensely than the last. Far more intensely. You tremble in their hold and see stars behind your eyes as you drench Rindou’s pelvis with your cum. You feel them both slam into you, once, twice, before theyre both spilling into you. Ran’s taste is slightly bitter in your mouth, not that you mind when hes pumping thick hot ropes of cum into your mouth, pulling out and watching you drool it out deliriously, smearing some of it on your face with his thumb like the depraved man he is. Rindou is the opposite, keeping his twitching cock stuffed inside of you while he paints your walls white, making sure you dont waste a single drop. 

Eventually they pull out and fall against the sofa with you, catching their breaths and sweating. You're left exhausted against Ran’s arms carrying you as Rindou draws a warm bath for you, falling asleep in their hold as they clean you. You wake up groggy and sore in the morning with a note and a water bottle on your bedside. You didnt feel either brother next to you which wasnt an uncommon occurrence, as they have to wake up at odd hours of the night for club duties. Opening your phone you see a text from Rindou that read, ‘we’re sorry we cant be there when you wake up, but know we have a driver waiting for you outside to bring you here for more fun x’. You giggle at the text and pick out the skimpiest outfit you can muster, one that shows off your bruises, bites and all other marks. 

Arriving at the club you skim your eyes around till they meet Ran’s mischievous ones. You walk over to him and sit on the bar stool next to his, no words are exchanged between you both as you swirl your drink in the glass and tilt your head back to swallow it whole. 

Kakucho and Sanzu watch you closely, admiring the way your skimpy dress hugs against your curves. “Damn.. Who’s she??” The pink haired man wonders out loud. Kakucho looks away, “Haitani’s” Kakucho answers shortly, downing his own shot. Sanzu quirks a brow at him. “Which one? Jellyfish?” Kakucho sighs and looks at Sanzu, “Both of them.”

A/N: I dont think this was stupid or cringe at all, my brother in christ, we shall have a spring wedding, i hope you like this even though i went insane with it <3 luv u 2 ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎, (AND IM SO FUCKING SORRY IM SO LATE)

[ultra-raging-ghost]

In response to your post about the upcoming event:

(Feel free not to respond by the way, just wanted to share my thoughts)

I totally agree. Not only does it feel doomposty, but it also just feels almost like a conspiracy theory to me? Like, you don’t know the details about this event, so to automatically assume it’s being run in bad faith or because of x or y thing currently happening is kind of…well I think it certainly helps me form some not so great opinions on those people

You can of course be upset about what’s going on, but it’s important to recognize it is highly unrealistic to keep the server in a permanent limbo state while we wait for information these people want to be public. Those processes take a *long time*. It isn’t necessarily trying to brush off or hide away what has happened, but rather trying to continue forward for the sake of the project

I am responding to this because i agree wholeheartedly

I feel like some people dont understand, legal stuff in the US generally take a couple months to well over a YEAR and i think its the same situation as when the egg figurines were released. QSMP needs revenue, it needs creator and audience interaction, it needs to actually gain money to make the progress people want to see. I am making that point very clear because i have a suspicion it might be streamed on the QSMP twitch channel, bad spotted some behind the scenes camera work, coulda been for the cutscene we got today but i think its for the event personally.

Its kind of obvious (to me at least) when things are admin run, and so far for the past couple weeks EVERYTHING has been ADMIN RUN. They were holding off but eventually went back to rping again because its FUN and they want to have fun on the SERVER. and even the admins NOT ON THE SERVER want it to continue running and continue content being made, are you deaf?? how in the world are you angrier than the people who were affected? what kind of goddamn vigilante justice bullshit??

This probably made no sense, but im excited. Im not gonna not be excited, im not letting anyone ruin the fun of the project

[stressfulsloth]

In regards to your post “and now I'm. Just thinking about the loneliness that is SO pervasive through Elysium.”…

I have one thing to offer, or perhaps nitpick if you’d prefer it that way.

I don’t think it’s entirely fair to say the Sunday Friend isn’t a real friend. The Smoker On The Balcony believes him to be a real friend, even if he isn’t going to be there come Monday morn. But isn’t that enough? A friend on Sunday is still a friend, even if it makes waking up Monday all the worse.

Perhaps I’m biased though! Now that I think about it, most of my friends would fit the description. “Fair weather friend” feels to cold, but “sunday friend” is good enough.

And of course none of this is to say your post is at all wrong. It’s lovely and true. I just felt the need to quarrel publicly with that little detail.

To conclude, since I really just did not make myself very clear here; you are utterly correct to include the Sunday Friend in a post about loneliness but I take slight issue with saying he’s not a real friend. And so I wrote you a very long ask. And now as I reach it’s end I’m realising this was a very silly undertaking. But I’ve come this far so I’m going to grow a pair and hit “ask”.

Thank you for taking the time to read this, I hope it isn’t too desperately obnoxious.

Peace out ✌️

Ahh man I'm sorry anon but I'm going to have to disagree with you pretty strongly here 😅 tbh I was a little too easy on him in the original post. It's not necessarily the temporary nature of their acquaintance that makes the Sunday Friend's friendship questionable on its own, although it doesn't help.

The Sunday Friend is quite literally not a friend. "Friend" in his title is a euphemism; he's not coming to visit the Smoker because he's his friend. He's coming to visit the smoker to do a bit of poverty tourism, to admire the crumbling place that his beliefs have helped to destroy, and a bit of heavily implied sex tourism too. A "first world" tourist, a bureaucrat from the international government, visiting one of the most impoverished districts of Revachol to spend his nights with a student. He's not the Smoker's friend, he's a client. They're using 'friend' as a stand-in for his actual role, which is a) as a part of the moralist bureaucratic system repressing the revolution and keeping the city as a whole trapped in a laissez faire purgatory easily exploited by foreign capitalists and ultraliberals, while still maintaining a friendly respectable face, and b) as the Smoker's customer, exploiting the poverty of Martinaise's residents to get what he wants for cheap and using the easy mobility that his money and status give him. Imo he's intended narratively as a parallel for the moralist coalition government; he views from a distance, focused on money and *ze price stabilité* but entirely divorced from the poverty and consequence of his work. Happy to dip his toe in and make use of exploitable populations in Revachol, but always ready to leave too. When asked how he became 'friends' with the smoker, his response is literally to describe the coalition occupying Revachol.

He knows so little about the Smoker beyond him being there to study art, but what kind? "Perhaps graphic design? Printmaking? Who knows?" As to your point about the Smoker thinking he's a real friend, the Smoker is under no illusions about who the Sunday Friend is. An injection of money. Someone with power, someone with the mobility afforded to him by ownership of a non-Revacholian passport, someone content to watch the place decay and do nothing but indulge himself in pet projects and worry about bureaucracy. Someone with the freedom to leave when things get bad; a freedom that is narratively only assigned to a rare few extremely bourgeois characters. Dora, on her flight to Mirova, Joyce and her boat, Trant and his academic travels, and the Sunday Friend who will be out of Martinaise like a shot the moment things start to kick off despite being a part of the overarching structure that is responsible for Revachol's subjugation and rising political tensions. The Sunday Friend will use the Smoker's labour, use the vulnerability of Revachol's precarious situation to his advantage, then once it becomes too precarious or he gets bored, he'll withdraw. In answer to your question, no, I don't think that's enough. Again I probably oversimplified in my last post but the loneliness all throughout DE is not just an emotional state but a political one. Alienation is a major theme. As is the impossibility of building community in the face of capitalism relentlessly subsuming anything in its path, in the face of shallow relationships dictated by the need for survival. The Sunday Friend embodies that concept perfectly. He is exquisitely shallow in conversation, a perfect moralist who at all times strives to remain impartial and distant.

Anyway. Tldr; my point is that the relationship between the Smoker and the Sunday Friend is far more transactional, and far more exploitative, than you seem to believe. "Friend" is not being used literally but euphemistically. A 'fairweather friend' is better than none, sure, but that's entirely inapplicable to this situation. Sorry for the long post and I hope it's not too rambling- I'm surviving on very little sleep right now but I hope it clears up for you a bit why I referred to the Sunday friend in that way initially.

[larcenywrites]

Could you write about how Tony is with a younger gf that's like half his age? And maybe a lot more energetic than him if you know what I mean 🤭 I understand if age gaps make you uncomfortable and you don’t want to write it though!

I’m into age gaps given the right circumstances, and I completely understand the appeal! I wasn’t quite sure what to write since it’s not something I really put much thought into anyway, but I think it turned out okay and pretty cute :)

Warnings: 18+ for sexual references and themes | mentions of Dom/sub stuff | age gap obviously | like two feminine/she/her pronouns used

💠 Tony doesn't particularly mind either way that his s/o is (a lot) younger than him, but admittedly, he didn't expect that he'd end up with someone younger! He figured he'd prefer someone closer to his age, with whom he could share similar experiences of life...

💠 But the world works in mysterious ways! And it definitely works in mysterious ways when you find yourself in a loving relationship with Earth's grumpiest Avenger! Well... one of Earth's grumpiest Avengers 🤭

💠 It's partly his older age and partly his stressful job that has him tired and irritable, but lucky for him, you found this grumpy old man sweet and handsome 🥰

💠 And now he’s your grumpy old man 🥰

💠 He’s always had a thing for being the more dominant one. He wants to be bigger and stronger, the protector and provider, and his older age helps play into that!

💠 He definitely loves to spoil you! Anything you want!! He just loves spending money on his lovers, but in a way, he’s kinda showing off 🤭 not necessarily to you, but to prove that him being older still has its advantages 😉 a much younger man probably couldn’t treat you this well 💅

💠However… there’s often a difference between how much a person in their early 20s works and how much a person in their 40s works. You may not be used to your boyfriend working like 8-9 hours a day nearly every day! It might be quite the learning curve not having him around as often as you’d be used to :( Tony does feel pretty bad about it, he can remember being much more free and clingy too, so he cuts you some slack when you wanna bother him at work or in the lab 😉🩵

💠 He loves when he can teach you new things! He has a soft spot for it 🥰 even if it’s just the cleanest way to separate the egg yolk or just, like, how to do taxes, he enjoys being helpful and teaching you new things :) it’s cute tbh 🥰

💠 And he also loves getting to watch you practice things and keep learning things!! Are you cooking a ton of new things every day? Awesome! Even if it’s the same stuff or doesn’t always turn out good!! If you’re a college student, he’ll adore watching you work and read!

💠 You’re also from a whole different generation than him, so you’ve probably got a few things to teach him, too 😌💅 From new music to social media! While he’s still not really into the latter, he does enjoy all kinds of music!

💠But because you’re from different generations, his gestures may feel a bit more… old fashioned? But they’re classy! Always bringing flowers, always kissing your hand, always offering his arm for you to hold onto on a walk, offering his coat— it’s enough to make you feel like royalty honestly 🥰

💠 Though, it may feel a bit weird at first hanging out with his little social circle? They’re pretty much all Tony’s age, so you may feel a little out of place. Rhodey is actually quite welcoming though! Well, you weren’t there when he teased Tony about it a little 😅 but it wasn’t aimed at you! Honesty he was just happy to see his friend going out again :) in fact, Rhodey is probably the first person you’ll meet! After all, Tony’s parents aren’t around, and there’s no one else quite so important and close to him 🥲

💠 But don’t worry, Tony feels just as awkward with your similarly-aged friends 😅 and he was very nervous to meet your friends and/or family! Shit, he’s likely the same age as your parents 😭 while that might make things a little awkward as well… it’s actually pretty nice that they can share and bond over their very similar experiences and childhoods!

💠 Sometimes he wonders what his parents would think… but he’s pretty sure his dad was older, too! He likes to talk about them a little bit, and about his younger years. It probably kinda reminds you of how your own parents talk about how they grew up and how different it was from how you did, but it’s much more cute to hear Tony talk about it 😘

💠 Obviously loves to be called Daddy, but the age gap really has it driving him up the wall 😈 it's an authority thing, a power thing, and definitely a Dom thing 😏 and plus, you’re probably more, uh, innocent than he is 😏

💠 Bunny, princess, little deer, sweetie— he has all sorts of pet names to remind you of not just the age gap, but the gap in your power dynamic, too 🥴

💠 He definitely also loves teaching you new things in the bedroom 😈 there’s gotta be something you haven’t done yet if you have been sexually active before, and he’ll be sure to figure it out and teach you right 😌😉

💠 But he is still older, probably a lot older, and that does come with some… differences. Sure, he can go for a while, but once he cums a time or two 😮‍💨 he’s down for the count! So when you still want to go for another round, he’ll probably just have to hype you up while you touch yourself, or you’ll just have to settle for his hand 😅 it is kinda cute, the way you can tire him out 🤭 and he does find your high sex drive pretty hot 😘 he can go again as long as you can wait like an hour or two! The cuddles are great, though, if you do fall asleep 🥰

💠 He calls you the Energizer Bunny since you can go for so long 🤧 but he can remember being like that, too, when he was younger 🥴

💠Sometimes he (maybe a bit sad or insecure) jokes about if only you’d been able to meet him when he was younger, but give him a little kiss and remind him how glad you are to have met him now 🥰🥰🥰🥰

💠 He never thought he’d be insecure about his age, but… he is a little :( especially if you do comment on a picture of a younger him about how hot he was 😔 young age had him so naturally sculpted and more physically inclined. He was very pretty, huh! And while he’s obviously still strong, he’s got a little bit of tummy, and scarring, and crinkles in the corners of his eyes— a shame you didn’t get to see him back then!

💠 “You’re so silly, Tony~” you scold lovingly, interrupting his reminiscing of the past. You enjoy hearing his stories, but not when he starts to beat himself up! Another quick kiss shuts him up 🥰 And eventually he stops worrying so much about it 🩵

💠 But… Tony Stark dating someone younger? Possibly someone even like- half his age or more? It’s bound to gain traction in social media. Of course, some are positive, some are not, but either way, he really doesn’t want to deal with it :/ and he really doesn’t want you to deal with it :( and it kinda makes him feel worse that you have to :(

💠 But he’s gotta admit: your brighter mood and energy has made him happier, even at work! He wants to do stuff again! Like take you to his favorite cities and go on picnics and to the aquarium! Like the dates he took plenty of exes on when he was your age and loved 🥲 sometimes he even comments about how you make him feel young again 🥰

💠 And when he says stuff like that, you’re probably like “🙄 You sound old when you say stuff like that 🤭” but without skipping a beat, he makes sure to correct you.

💠 “I am old 🤨.”