#to every temperature drop/rise but the drop is the problem right now

[psychoticwillgraham]

we’re only getting up to 4 inches of snow now (I think? but some models are saying 6+ again 😒 so who the fuck knows tbh) but that’s not what everyone is sounding the alarm about. it’s about the 50mph+ wind gusts, the -35 and very possibly lower wind chills, resulting prolonged power outages, car accidents as a result of whiteout conditions, and flash freezing on the roads combined with the heavy holiday traveling going on right now. and that’s what’s scaring the fuck out of me to be honest.

i know mom and I will be fine because she’s gotten through stuff similar to this back when she lived in Indiana in college, and I lived through a 2ft+ of snow blizzard when I was a teenager and one previous extended sub zero temperature period of days (that was bad but not with winds this high or snow added or a chance of flash freezing), but I’m still terrified because now we’re on our own and my sister won’t be able to get to us because she lives 15 minutes away in a different town and she can’t see very well at all due to a diabetic complication, so yeah she won’t be able to drive in those conditions.

normally I don’t believe in the hype around storms in general, especially for winter storms because it’s Missouri yknow? I should be used to this since I’ve lived here for like 99.9% of my life so far, but this is definitely unusual and of course I’m gonna take this shit seriously. i think mom thinks im taking way it too seriously and obsessing over every little detail of preparedness, but I’d rather be way overprepared then underprepared or not prepared at all yknow? sometimes the crazy, raving mad paranoid person is actually right for once lol

[kettlefire]

Prepare for the unexpected. (DPxDC)

Everyone knew about the reign of Pariah Dark. Even those who did not dabble in those realms have heard the tale of the tyrant. A power-hungry man who ruled over the dead with an iron fist.

Following the rise of Pariah Dark, his realm had been effectively cut off from communication. Many mystics and magic users knew better than to open the door of nightmares that could arise if Pariah Dark's reach went further than his own realm.

Except, the universe had plans to bring the realm of the dead back into the cards.

A new opponent, one that had all of Earth's heroes scrambling for options. A being with powers of a god over weather, destruction was on the horizon. A world ending threat.

It's the only reason the Justice League was doing this. In a deep bunker, far from close civilization as a precaution, the heroes looked on with grim expressions.

The world was already being threatened. It would be destroyed regardless of what the league did. So it only made sense to make the last ditch effort. To summon someone strong enough to defeat the threat.

No one wanted to do it. No one wanted to be the one to pull the realm of the dead back to the living. The consequences were untold if this succeeded. If Pariah Dark was freed and defeated the threat, whose to say he won't want control?

That was a problem for later. For the aftermath. For now, the league could only watch on with bated breath as Constantine completely the summon ritual.

They watched on as the shadows in the room seemed to darken and grow. As the sigil sputtered to life with a glow that was growing increasingly brighter. A sudden gust of wind rushed through the room, the temperature began to drop with eaching ticking second.

And then it was all gone.

The room stood perfectly still. Just as it had been moments before. Nothing changed. No giant king standing before them, no sign that the ritual worked.

The room stood deadly still for another beat before the murmurs started. The team trying to make sense of the situation, figure out what went wrong.

Constantine swore up and down that this was the correct ritual, taking offense that they would even think the problem was on his end. It only made it better when it finally happened.

A loud sound ripped through the room, pulling everyone's attention back to the summoning circle. Just in time to see a tear appear in the space above the circle.

A thin tear that ran the length of eight feet. The fabric of the dimension seems to curl at the edges, pulling back to reveal a deep glowing swirl of greens. A dark gloved hand reached through, fingers curling around the edge of the tear, stretching it even further.

A portal. The ritual had worked, but there had been a delay. A delay that had every hero nerves on edge. Each team member tensed, weapons at the ready as they watched the being stretch the portal to the right size.

Then, a foot stepped out with a heavy thud. A dark boot that looked otherworldly despite its similarity to mortal clothing. A deep black that seemed never-ending. A second foot quickly followed before a full body emerged from the portal.

Not many people in the room have ever seen Pariah Dark, let alone know what to expect. Based on what Constantine and Zatara had said, this wasn't Pariah Dark.

A man had stepped out of the portal, standing at almost seven feet tall, and built like a brick house. One glance at the glowing white hair, deadly red eyes, and shard teeth was enough to know this being was not to be messed with.

But there was no giant show of armor or royal garbs. There is no large crown at the top of his head or jewelry from the infinite realms laced around his neck.

Instead, the man stood before them in combat boots, worn-in ripped jeans, a graphic t-shirt, and a spiked leather jacket. Despite his almost normal clothing choice, the man's jacket seemed to be a never-ending depth of the dark night sky. If one was to look closely enough, the cosmos could almost be made out in the sea of darkness.

None of that would have prepared them for when the man spoke. His tone sounded more bored than anything as he took a step forward.

"Oh, so now you need the help of the dead." The man had spoken, running a hand through his hair. When Batman took a step forward to speak, the man raised a hand. Immediately commanding silence in the single gesture. "I'm on babysitting duty and have yet to have a cup of coffee. I'll be right back."

Just like that, both the man and portal vanished into thin air. Leaving behind a group of stunned heroes. Not only was the man not Pariah Dark, but he was also supposedly babysitting.

"Did that just-"

The Flash had been the first voice to speak up, his eyes trained on where the man had once stood. Except he had barely made it through the first few words before the man was suddenly back.

The man that now had a child hanging off his shoulders and another teen being held up by his scruff. Unlike the man, these kids looked human.

Too human for Bruce's liking. The dark black hair and bright blue eyes had every heroes eyes flickering to Batman for just the briefest moment.

"This isn't fair! I'm not even the king. Why do I have to be here!" The teenager had been complaining the moment the man had reappeared. Arms crossed tight over his chest and seemingly used to being held dangling. "Besides, who brings kids to a show down! Wait til I tell mom about this."

"Aw, come on, Danny. This is gonna be fun!!" The younger girl seemed in much better spirits than the teen, Danny. She had climbed up the large man, sitting on his shoulders and resting her arms on the mess of glowing hair. "It's like take your kids to work day! Ooo, Dan! Can we fight too!?"

Unlike the two kids, the man looked purely exhausted and annoyed. The man, Dan, dropped Danny like a sack of potatoes as he took a long drink from the travel cup in his hand.

It didn't take a genius to recognize the look of an exhausted parent in Dan's expression. A look many of the league members were well acquainted to. A look that even had Batman grimacing with sympathy.

"Can it, little shits. You two were grounded, remember." Dan had growled at the kids before shifting his focus back on the team of heroes before them. His glowing eyes set in a deadly glare. "Pariah Dark isn't coming, and he never will. He's been dethroned and banished. We're the best you've got."

A summoning that started with a group of on edge and scared heroes looking for the ghost king, ended in a way no one expected.

No one was even sure if it made any sense. They weren't sure if they should feel hopeful or in despair.

Because truly, what was a ghostly man with two seemingly human children against a godlike foe with the control over the weather?

The unspoken question of power and ability seemed to vanish following Dan downing the metal travel cup of coffee, and crushing it in his fist.

He tossed it to the side, straighting up his posture as he looked over the heroes. Dan might not be a hero, but he's been playing family for too long.

An almost feral, bloodhungry grin spread across the man's face, sharp fangs on full display. The look made the man suddenly look even less human. He looked closer to a demon from the pits of hell rather than the exhausted parent he looked just a few seconds ago.

"Point me in the direction of this bastard. It's been too long since I let loose and had some fun."

[tunastime]

A Gear of the Heart, Turning

so I'm back on an ethubs kick after so very long of not writing them (spacer really changes a man), and decided to take a quick peek back into the DBHC au by @shepscapades beloved. thanks for making me insane! ahhaha <33 etho... anyways enjoy them! <3

(2847 words) (check out DBHC here!)

When Etho comes back from exploring, Bdubs is lying in the grass.

It’s a crisp, cold, clear day. The sun is bright blue, bright enough to stare into and imagine what the burning feeling could be, the cold brightness, the way the sun carries no warmth but a fraction of what it could in the summer. Etho knows exactly what time of year it is, he’s never stopped keeping track, he’s never paused counting the days in his own personal, mental calendar. Fall. Getting colder every day. Nights growing in length, days getting shorter and shorter. In the corner of his eye, if he were to focus on it, he could see the date. For now, though, the sides of his vision held other data—temperature, his own lives, a list of players, his personal chances of success. He’s not here to cause problems, that’s not his job. He’s got another objective, something self-made. Survive. He’s supposed to be surviving. He is surviving, in fact.

If Etho could breathe, he would’ve taken in a lungful of that sharp, cold air, would know the way it hit the back of his throat. Instead, he feels the sun, and the air, and knows them in absolutes, and picks his way around the base and over to Bdubs in the grass. He’s not asleep yet—his heart beats a steady drum, calm and even. Etho notes the slow rise and fall of his chest, the way he sees his eyebrows twitch when Etho stands in the patch of sun he rests in. He pillows his head on his coat, his arms spread out. His eyes don’t open, but his hand reaches out, smacking the side of Etho’s ankle.

“Etho,” Bdubs says tiredly. 

“How did you know it was me?” Etho asks, a note of curiosity entering his tone. He tilts his head, a bit unnecessarily. He knows Bdubs can’t see. It just feels right. He’s been doing a lot of that, lately—doing things because they feel right, rather than because he has to. That’s human, isn’t it?

“Who else is gonna come stormin’ into our base and stand in front of me?” Bdubs says. Finally, he cracks open an eye, squinting up at Etho, brows furrowed. His hand messes with the lace of Etho’s boot, twisting it in his fingers. Etho notes it down—he doesn’t want to trip.

“I was quiet as a mouse, Bdubs!” Etho says. He smiles—just enough for it to be seen in his eyes. Bdubs can’t see behind the black mask on his face. 

Bdubs snorts. After a moment, he shuts his eyes again. His hand falls still, over his chest. He sighs out a profound thing, face softening as he relaxes again.

“Sure you were, Etho,” he says. Etho hums a little. He likes the sound of Bdubs’ tone when he says that—something about it feels so much softer than normal. Maybe unintentionally tired. Maybe he was asleep before Etho got here. “Get outta my sun, will you?”

Step out of the sun, Etho thinks. It lingers for a moment. Will you? The added request. He considers it for a moment longer before he does. He rounds around Bdubs’ head, drops down to occupy the space right at his right shoulder. The sun shines on both of them.

Etho takes a moment to shrug off the warm coat around him. It ends up on the grass beside him and so does his mask and he leans back on his hands. He soaks in the sun, wondering what that warmth could feel like if it were just a bit stronger, if the bite of cold around them weren’t so prevalent. He wonders how much Bdubs feels of both, if it’s more than him, if it’s less. Bdubs heart stays steady, his breathing even. He still isn’t sleeping.

“That better?” Etho asks, lowering his voice. Bdubs makes a noise, half-startled. Etho looks down at him, watching the way his face changes ever so as he recognizes Etho’s question. He gets the urge, just for a moment, to reach out, to run his hand through Bdubs’ hair, despite how greasy it must be at this point. He wonders if it would tangle. He wonders if it feels any certain way. 

“That’s much better,” Bdubs sighs. “Thank you, Etho.”

“Mhm.”

There’s a beat of quiet where they sit together. Etho’s hand sits behind Bdubs’ head. He considers that urge with full merit, listening to Bdubs sigh again, comfortable and content even in the midst of a death game. To be fair, Etho knows he isn’t. This is just a facade for a brief moment—or perhaps it’s Etho himself making him this calm. He can’t tell. Part of him hopes it’s the latter, rather than the former.

Bdubs tilts his head back, craning his neck to get a look at Etho behind him. He smiles a bit, furrowing his eyebrows questioningly. Etho tilts his head again, that questioning gesture, finally letting his hand rest at the crown of Bdubs’ head. Bdubs smile only grows, just a bit, just the smallest fraction. Etho doesn’t move his hand—he just rests it there. Just for a moment. 

“What’re you doin’?” Bdubs asks.

“Sitting here,” Etho says plainly. “Is that a problem?”

“You’re lookin’ pretty comfortable.”

“I am,” Etho says. He hums a little, to add to the effect. “You look comfortable yourself.”

“Oh,” Bdubs says, shutting his eyes. “Very much so.”

Etho hums again. He lets his thumb drag over the top of Bdubs’ head, muzzing up his hair, allowing just a moment of self indulgence. Bdubs doesn’t stop him. It’s nice. 

Bdubs watches him with a soft, partially confused, partially content look. After a moment, he shuts his eyes, leans his head back down so that Etho’s hand cups the top of his head. He sighs out and clambors up. Etho’s hand falls away after that, and something resembling a pang of longing makes his thirium pump stutter. 

Bdubs turns toward him, shifting forward until their knees meet. He blocks part of the sun over Etho, to which Etho nearly makes a comment about it, but it gets lost somewhere as Bdubs squints at him. Late afternoon, Etho thinks. The sun wasn’t high enough in the sky to last much longer. He’ll have to haul himself up and start a fire, soon enough, but Bdubs pins him with that look and Etho can’t move. Bdubs hasn’t even given him a request. It feels self-inflicted. 

“You’re staring,” Etho says, a bit obviously.

“You were looking at me funny,” Bdubs says. His mouth curves into a frown. Etho hopes it doesn’t look like he’s watching. Instead, Etho laughs.

“I wasn’t,” he says. Bdubs snorts, shaking his head. He reaches out, patting Etho’s unmarred cheek. The impression his hand leaves is warm—warm enough to almost be hot. Etho’s brain pings the sensation, the impression, the linger of touch, records, stores, repeats. If he had something to swallow he’s sure he would've done it, like he’s seen Bdubs do. 

Instead, he raises his eyebrows, and doesn’t say anything, and Bdubs laughs, and Etho doesn’t think another sound could be that good. Bdubs pulls himself up after that, pushing himself forward on his hands and knees, wincing at he twists to stretch, and sighs.

“Tango’ll be back soon to check up on us,” he says. “You wanna get started on a fire?”

Etho looks up at him, nodding slowly. He’s still lingering on that remnant of a touch, the weight of it all. He agrees to what Bdubs says regardless, and as Bdubs nods his thanks and walks away, still complaining about the ache in his back, Etho scoops himself off the ground. Above him, the sun has started to sink in the sky, and the shadows grow.

Etho makes a fire.

Tango comes and goes. He’s not much for sleep, which is typical for him as of late. He laughs as he talks to the two of them, as they bounce around stories about the day passed. Nothing happened—not really, nothing of note. It was slow, full of collection, of waiting, of planning. Tango talks of resource gathering as Bdubs drinks soup from a wooden bowl. It’s a nice slice of quiet, and Etho watches the expression on Tango’s face with a careful contemplation. His red eyes flick to Etho when he talks about their team, and Etho feels that bit of warmth, sharing that eye. Everywhere he goes, he carries a bit of Tango with him. Their odds look better with him here, but he can’t deny the sliver of human error that chips away at that success rate. He doesn’t know how much longer Tango’ll stick around. Surely, he can see it too.

The fire is still going when Tango picks himself up and dusts his pants off and says he’ll be back later. Etho believes him, reaches out to pat his shoulder as he stands with him. Tango jostles, smiles like he means that, too. Etho watches him go before he drops down beside Bdubs again. Bdubs stares into the flames, eyes far away, expression soft. Etho moves to sit next to him, their shoulders almost brushing. It’s Bdubs that closes the gap, pressing to his side, cheek against his shoulder. Etho stays still, stiffening, pretending not to care when Bdubs takes his hand. He can feel the uptick of stress as he sits still, feeling his pump thump in his chest.

Bdubs runs his thumb over the back of his hand, over the valleys of his knuckles. He traces them out with the pad of his finger, and the spark of sensation travels up Etho’s arm, like it could tickle the back of his neck, raise the hair there. It registers, again and again, dull and present but not unpleasant. He leans back into Bdubs. Bdubs laughs a little, just a huff of air.

“You better not be sleepin’ on me, Etho,” Bdubs says, the undertone of sleep coming to his voice. Etho makes a noise of disagreement.

“Never, Bdubs!”

“Mm,” Bdubs sighs. “Good.”

Bdubs lets go after a moment, peeling away from him for just a beat, before they’re sitting side by side again, Bdubs still pressed as close as he can be to his shoulder. Etho notes the way Bdubs shivers, imperceptible. Etho’s the warmest thing besides the fire, here, all moving mechanical parts and expelling heat to keep cool. Not as much as Tango might, but enough to matter. Enough to be a little bit warmer than Bdubs, right now.

Bdubs sighs again, shutting his eyes. Facing Etho, now, Etho can watch his expression change as he starts to warm up, softening, sinking. Bdubs doesn’t open his eyes for a long moment, but his hand comes up, his right hand, left hand replacing the one holding Etho’s wrist hostage. He reaches up to cup Etho’s face in his palm. His warm hand slides up to cradle the scarred side of Etho’s face, and Etho can’t help the immediate reaction of simulated skin fading to white, sliding away where Bdubs’ warm, calloused hand makes contact. Bdubs runs his thumb over a particular crack near his jaw, just a simple, slow motion. Etho wishes he could sigh. It would be the proper response. More than just leaning into the touch and shutting his eyes, more than not knowing why it was nice, and just knowing that it was. It sends sensation after sensation after sensation, the tingling feeling running over his skin and up his cheek and neck. Does Bdubs know? Can he see what it’s doing? Surely he can’t hear the stutter, the way his pump works faster, any of that. If he were to open his eyes, would Bdubs be looking at him? What would that expression look like?

He opens his eyes anyway. He lets them slide open, ignoring the very human response to shut them again, to soak in the touch, the feeling of being held. The feeling he was realizing he would like if he could tie the two together. Bdubs is looking at him, but his expression is soft, almost concerned. Hesitant, maybe. He pauses the drag of his thumb over Etho’s cheek as Etho meets his eye, even as Etho’s expression is low-lidded and unfocused.

“‘S that nice?” Bdubs asks softly, voice going hoarse as it hits the low register. 

Etho blinks, slow. The edges of his vision fuzz out, like his optical unit is failing. He opens his mouth, realizing he’s failed to preemptively form a sentence. He makes a sound instead, then tries again, stuttering.

“I don’t know.”

Bdubs frowns a little. Etho leans hard into his palm. Not like that. He doesn’t mean it like that.

“It’s nice, but I don’t know what nice means,” Etho manages. He’s not making any sense. “You don’t have to stop.”

Bdubs’ frown fades, turning soft, warm, into a smile. He laughs a little, a sound Etho registers as a laugh. Good enough to be a laugh. 

“I hear you, sweetheart,” Bdubs says gently.

Etho smiles, laughs a little. As much as he’s learned to mimic, so far, something that’s started to morph into his own little sound. 

“You getting soft on me, Bdubs?” he asks. He can’t help it—the amused tease comes too natural to kick. He feels Bdubs pinch his cheek and recoils, face scrunching.

“I am not,” Bdubs barks. His voice is flooded with amusement though, and Etho laughs with him. He can’t help it. Bdubs laughs, and he does too, and whatever thing he’s experiencing feels incredibly fond and sweet and he hopes he’ll soon be able to actually pin it to something. What was all that? Who was that, squeezing itself into Bdubs’ body, to touch Etho’s face in a way that he’d never really done before? To admire? Was he admiring? Looking at him? Memorizing like Etho was? Etho watches Bdubs turn away, searching for something to snuff the fire. He pretends not to notice the flush on Bdubs’ cheeks.

Bdubs is such an odd person. 

He doesn’t think he’ll ever get a proper grasp of human emotion. Maybe that’s the whole point.

Bdubs snuffs the fire. When he does, he turns to Etho. The mask finds Etho’s face again, and Etho registers the falter in Bdubs’ face when he looks at him.

“Gotta protect that face of yours, don’t’cha?” Bdubs says, swallowing down something. Maybe there’s a hint of emotion Etho is missing. He can’t really tell. His vision sharpens back into clarity as Etho rises to a stand. The sky is just starting to get dark, the air cold, and Bdubs looks over to the wooden structure they’re calling home—more than just the fort. A warmer space than just the fort.

“You know it,” Etho says playfully. That alone cracks the facade of Bdubs’ discomfort. He smiles, shaking his head, rolling his eyes in the good-natured way that Etho always recognized as good-natured and not malicious. 

“You comin’ to bed?” Bdubs asks. He jerks his head over to the wooden structure, body halfway turned to it. He doesn’t say anything else, lingering on Etho’s unsaid answer. Etho shrugs, sticking his hands in his pockets as his shoulders rise. 

“Maybe. Probably not tonight.”

“Mm,” Bdubs says. “Right. Forget you don’t need to sleep half the time.” Then he laughs, and at the last second, adds:

“You weirdo.”

Etho barks out a laugh—something wholly his own, surprised, startled by Bdubs’ comment. He watches Bdubs turn away from him, still chuckling, still smiling to himself. After a beat, he calls back to him, and Bdubs turns. Etho shrugs off his coat, holding it out to him with one hand, the other still in the pocket of his pants. Bdubs tilts his head, frowning a little.

“You’re not gonna get cold?” he asks. Etho shakes his head.

“I’ll be alright,” he says, smiling. It feels nice to smile. It feels nice that it meets his eyes.

“Okay, Etho,” Bdubs says, taking the coat. He pauses for a moment, draping it over his arm. It feels good. Maybe that’s what Bdubs means by things feeling nice. Feeling. Maybe. “Have a good night, alright?”

“I’ll try, Bdubs,” Etho says, letting his tone be as affectionate as is appropriate. Bdubs nods his head. That smile doesn’t leave his face for as long as Etho can see him.

Bdubs wanders off to their room, quiet. Etho finds that place in the grass again. He’ll check in on him in a bit, spend the rest of the night planning, working, and spend some time resting when he knows he’s able to tomorrow. For now, though, Etho drops himself into the soft grass still present around the base, in the snow, feeling it cold but not yet damp, waning from the evening light. Feeling. Feeling. Feeling. Maybe he can get used to feeling. Maybe he’ll understand feeling on his own. He looks up, into the sky, and tries to see if there are any stars he recognizes.

They wink their way in from the gold-blue sky, and Etho watches. 

[moonlightspencie]

lost in it

Description: The aftermath of falling down a rabbit hole!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!Reader

Warnings: angst, some fluffies

Word Count: 1.9k

spotify playlist link!

A/N: gender neutral reader! (no use of pronouns or ‘y/n’)

SPENCER POV

‘Love,

What’s wrong with me? I think something terribly wrong has happened to my brain, and I don’t know how to fix it. I think you might be the only person who could begin to understand how to, but for obvious reasons, I can’t ask you to do that. I thought time would change things and that I’d start feeling normal again, but every morning I wake up and it feels like my only excuse for getting out of bed is that if I don’t, you’re all I’d dream about.

I still don’t understand how something so perfect could have gone so terribly wrong. Maybe there was too much fire, and because didn’t get a handle on it, we let it burn down everything instead of letting it keep us warm. I don’t know. I hate not knowing. I’m supposed to understand things. But then, you’ve always been an enigma of sorts. Like a beautiful puzzle that I loved to try and piece together, even though I could never get it quite right.

Though, while you still occupy my mind endlessly, I can at least feel like I can breathe again. I found someone new, and she’s great. Not you, but still great. She tells me I look healthier now than when we first met, and she takes the credit for it. I don’t think I believe that she’s the culprit, but I’ll let her believe it. It makes me laugh, at least, and she does, too. I like when she laughs. She reminds me a little bit of you when she does. It’s curious, I think, that she can make me so happy on her own, but that I still cling to every time she acts like you. I feel guilty about it most days. She probably doesn’t deserve it.

But, I can’t help that I still think of you and try to find you in everything. You’re like a ghost haunting me. I’ve always been a skeptic of the supernatural, but you seem to have made me a believer. I wonder if you ever feel the same about me. That somehow you’re searching for that same rainbow of colors I saw when we were together, or that mayb’

“Spencer?”

I dropped my pen, my hand coming down to rest on the piece of paper on my desk as if she could see what I was writing from her vantage point. I looked up at the girl on my couch as she had just woken from a nap. She stared back a me curiously.

“Everything okay?” she inquired.

I nodded quickly. “Fine. Why?”

“You just looked really… In your head.”

“I usually am,” I offered with a tight-lipped smile.

She snorted a laugh, nodding along as she sat up fully. She rested her head on her arms as she looked over the back of the couch at me.

“Well, we have dinner reservations soon. You could probably use a shower.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” I nodded, standing from my desk.

She followed suit, standing and disappearing into my bedroom to get ready. I looked down at the letter on my desk, picking it up and observing my own writing for a few moments. My handwriting was a little messy. I let out a deep sigh, crumpling the letter into a ball and tossing it into the fireplace.

I thought back frequently on how it all ended.

We were sitting on my couch one afternoon. I still remember light in my eyes from the afternoon sun. At my love’s suggestion, we kept the curtains open all day, and the windows open every time the weather allowed it. It was nice. The fresh air coming in always made everything feel good somehow. The smell of the wind coming in was always welcomed. Especially on days like that one, in mid-spring as temperatures rose and the air was crisp and the sun always seemed to peak through the clouds. I always felt that way when we were together. It’s how I knew something was wrong that morning.

Our biggest argument started not long after breakfast. I didn’t want to talk about it when tensions started rising, but I should have known that that was a big part of the problem. I never wanted to talk about the hard things. Why would I? Things felt so good when we were together. Why bring up anything negative when we could bask in the sunshine together? It seemed silly.

Though, to be fair, everyone is a fool in love. I thought I’d be immune to it. I wasn’t usually stupid. But those eyes looking at me, and those hands touching me… It was no surprise I couldn’t think straight. I could have been the dullest man on earth, and I wouldn’t have cared.

So, we sat on my couch. Basking in the afterglow of an argument. Our fire had grown out of control, and there I was without any water. Foolish.

I turned when I heard a sigh next to me, and part of my heart broke when I saw tears glistening in that afternoon sunlight. But I didn’t offer comfort. I didn’t even find myself speaking for once in my life. Foolish.

I didn’t move from the couch until it got dark. I didn’t get up when I heard the rustling of clothes getting tossed into a bag. I didn’t even turn around when I heard footsteps going towards the door. I didn’t know what to do, so I did nothing. Foolish.

I guess part of me thought we just needed a little bit of space. I was certain we’d find our way back together within a week. Surely, we couldn’t stay apart for long. That was a ridiculous notion. Everyone knew we would end up growing old together. One fight couldn’t possibly be the reason for our downfall. But it wasn’t one fight that did it.

It was every time I refused to talk. It was every time one of us was too stubborn to back down from an argument. It was everything that led up to that fight that did us in for good.

The last time we spoke was to make sure I wasn’t holding onto anything in the apartment that wasn’t mine. I wished I could have. Pretending I wasn’t alone was easier when the apartment was still full of memories that weren’t just mine.

But weeks of not talking after that turned into months. The only updates I got came from mutual friends, and they didn’t exactly want to talk to me about my ex every time we got together. I can’t say that I would have minded it, though. I wished endlessly I could still remember the smell on my pillow that disappeared long ago, but my memory faded.

And, eventually, someone else’s head laid there instead.

READER POV

I thought back frequently on how it all started.

I didn’t usually agree to blind dates. I thought they were bizarre. Why agree to meet a perfect stranger when I was more than content on my own? Sometimes part of me wishes I’d never agreed in the first place. But, then, I don’t know who I’d be now if I hadn’t met Spencer. He had shifted the entire world on its axis with nothing but a shy smile and shaggy hair falling in his face as he greeted me the first time.

He expressed quickly that also wasn’t usually one for blind dates, but that a coworker of his practically made him go for it. At the time I thought it sounded pushy, but shortly after meeting Derek it all started to make sense.

“So we finally meet,” he said, flashing me a million dollar smile.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” I mentioned with a smile as I reached to shake his hand.

He took my hand, chuckling slightly as he gave Spencer a glance and a look I couldn’t quite decipher.

“I’m sure I’ve heard just as much about you. I’ve never seen pretty boy so infatuated.”

Spencer blushed hard. I merely reached for his hand, interlocking our fingers with a smile.

Though, as much as Derek made sense, a lot of other things didn’t. Our relationship didn’t quite seem like a good fit, for example. I didn’t think we’d last. He was seemingly so mild-mannered at first, but together it was like a whirlwind that would sweep us off our feet. I couldn’t envision it going well for more than a week, but he convinced me easily with that same sweet smile. He was always easy to give into.

“I just don’t know—”

“Please,” he said, cutting me off.

I looked into those big, pretty eyes of his. How could I deny him?

“Are you sure about this?”

He nodded. “I’ve never been more sure about anything.”

That was the spark, and soon we were tumbling down into something magical at breakneck speeds. Wondrous and stupid and beautiful and thrilling and irresponsible. Expiration dates be damned.

The touch of his hand alone could give me a buzz that no other substance could manage, and I know that my influence was the same on him. It showed every time he looked at me as if I hung the stars while my fingertips traced patterns against his chest. Every time he gave me a soft smile after a particularly passionate kiss when he got home from a case. Every time I brushed the hair out of his face as he rested his head against my chest.

We were utterly in love and too wrapped up in each other to see that it was doomed from the start.

‘Spencer,

It’s been a while, I know. I’m sorry to do this to you out of the blue, but I’ve been thinking a lot lately. Mostly about you. It’s ridiculous, really.

I know you found someone else, and I’m happy for you. Really. I’ve got to admit, though, that it sucks to see you doing so well with another girl. I’ve worked through a lot of those feelings, but some of them still linger. I hate thinking about anyone else having you. Lucky for me, Penelope has stuck around after the breakup, and she’s a wonderful listener. Gosh, I say that like you don’t already know. Anyway, I don’t want to cause problems, so if you don’t reply to this I wont take any offense. I know you have different priorities now. It sucks things had to end how they did. And that’s putting it really lightly.

I still dream about you sometimes. I thought it would end at some point, but it just isn’t right now. It’s weird. I’ve never had someone effect me like this before, and I’m not sure what to do about it. It feels like phantom limb syndrome. Part of me is missing, and I know it’s gone, but it still feels like it’s there somehow. I don’t know. I guess I’m just reaching out because’

I stopped typing at that. Because…?

Because what? Why am I doing this? Really?

I swallowed, looking at all I’d written so far. It was all truthful, that’s for certain. But why send it to him? What would that accomplish?

I hovered my thumb over the button for a moment, then pressed down. I didn’t let up until the whole text was erased. I looked at the empty text box, and the last messages that were sent months ago. Plans for when I was going to retrieve my things from his apartment.

I closed out of the app a moment later, tossing the device on my coffee table. I closed my eyes and let myself drift off to a world where he was still around.

[gothic-thoughts]

Too Selfless

Stardust Crusaders x Black GN Reader Angst

StandUser!Reader, Platonic (no ship)

CW: Reader has heat intolerance (based off me fr), all the Stardust Crusaders featured, slight panicking,

TW: passing out, mini anxiety attack

CW: passing out from the heat, arguing with Jotaro, cursing??, based on the canon but slightly out of order

Word Count: 1667 (give or take)

(a/n): this fic is literally just me coping 😭😭

Riding on through the desert on camelback was hard enough without (Y/n)'s heat hypersensitivity. Nobody knew about your weakness but it was the reason you insisted on riding with someone just in case—that someone being Polnareff. Your arms were tightly wrapped around his waist for safety while the sway of the camel mixed with the arid air induced vertigo. The heat rises slightly but suddenly enough to give you whiplash which only adds to your nausea.

Despite never really being able to sweat, sweat began pouring out of every pore as you breathed as slow as you could, desperately trying to find some semblance of relaxation before you out your struggling to the group. Your arms loosen around Polnareff, mind swirling and slowing starts before you refocus to swirl and slow from the heat but you quickly tighten them back around him before he could notice. You sighed, trying to catch your breath but noticed you were becoming even hotter even if it was by just one degree.

“Pol?” You whimper in an attempt to save brain power, "Polnareff?"

"Yeah, what is it?"

"What's...the temperature right now?"

"It's...." He takes out his thermometer. "81 degrees, but don't worry. It'll be nightfall soon and you can finally stop sweating." He chuckles.

"(Y/n)?" Joseph chuckled, "Sweating?" 

"When have they ever sweat? Or even enough for it to be a problem for anyone?" Kakyoin asked.

"Now, I guess." Polnareff shrugs, "They've been panting and struggling to hold on for the past 5 minutes."

"You guys don’t feel it?" You try to raise your voice above a whisper, "I think... it's getting hotter. We need...to hurry."

"Calm down, we've only been out here an hour. Besides, you've got a hat on, don't you?"

“...Jean...”

You physically feel your energy level plummet just from merely keeping yourself upright and you fall against his back weakly, left cheek squishing into his shoulder blade to look at Jotaro riding his camel next to them. You lock eyes your blank stare and slow blinks worry him enough to furrow his eyebrows and call out for the rest of the group's attention but his voice was so... warped. Your energy finally ran out and your body gave out, slumping sideways. 

Star Platinum appears and catches you right before you hit the burning sand. Kakyoin jumps off his camel and runs to take you from Jotaro's stand as it disappears. The redhead pulls off your sunhat to check your temperature, eyes widening slightly at the extreme moisture and warmth on your forehead alone, noting it was much hotter than his. All you could do was attempt to force your hazy, lidded vision to focus on the concerned face above you as the temperature rose again.

“What the hell happened?” Joseph asked, pulling his camel to stop.

“Not sure," Jotaro chimed in, jumping off his camel, "They looked confused as hell and then just fell over.”

“They’re too hot.” Kakyoin says, placing his ear right about your mouth, “Way too hot and their breath is faint.”

“But how; we’ve all been out here for the same amount of time!” Joseph asked, “And they’re covered up the most out of all of us.”

“Maybe they're being dramatic?" Polnareff hoped, “Or dehydrated?”

"They wouldn't 'dramatically' drop into the hot sand.” Jotaro rebutted, folding his arms.

Kakyoin adjusts your limp body to bridal carry you, keeping your upper body off of the sand, “(Y/n)? Hey, look at me!”

"I think they were on to something though,” Jotaro fans himself, "It's a whole lot hotter than when we first got here."

"It'll be night soon." Joseph checks his watch and gasps, "What the hell, it's 8 pm already!"

"So how the hell is the sun still up?"

"This has got to be a stand, but where's the user?"

"Just give 'em water until we know--"

"Kakyoin." Polnareff blurted, "They're...."

The men all look down to see your chapped lips part slightly as your eyes start to flutter shut. They rush back to their camels to find a full canteen while Kakyoin shakes you gently, trying to keep you awake. You do your best to remain conscious, using any remaining willpower left in your body.

“Hey! No, no!" Kakyoin puts your sunhat back on as he desperately tries to get you cool, "(Y/n), hey! Come on, keep your eyes open. They're looking, okay? We're looking for water."

"Keep 'em awake dammit!" Jotaro shouted, rummaging through his bag.

“I'm trying!" Kakyoin taps your face lightly, "Hang on, (Y/n)."

You give in to the heat, too weak to even stay conscious. The last thing you're able to register was something about the sun looking a little bizarre. Kakyoin's next sentence fell deaf on ears as your eyes closed, head drooping back. He caught the back of it and kept it up trying one last time to get your attention when your hand limply drops to the burning sand.

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

Hearing a groggy whine, I glance over from my seat in an armchair to see (Y/n) slowly sit up on the hotel bed. I sigh in relief, seeing them quickly reach for the water bottle on the nightstand but anger starts to bubble up seeing them chug, bringing back stressful memories of them falling unconscious. I abruptly stand from the chair making them tense and stop drinking. Their eyes widened slightly at my expression.

"Hey... Jotaro..."

I blink, unamused. "You good now?"

"Uh yeah. Just, uh... just a little thirsty."

"I bet." I scoff, crossing my arms, "Which is why I'm a little confused as to why you thought it was a good idea to never mention your heat stroke before we got here."

They paused mid-sip and I could just tell they were deciding whether or not to play dumb, but no; they opted to sit there in guilty silence as I stepped closer to the end of the bed, head tilted while waiting for a response. They take too long, so I speak up.

"Well?"

"Not like I knew--"

"Cut the shit, you can't not know you're weak to heat; meaning you know how dangerous that shit is. And to top it all off, we're in fucking Egypt."

"Jojo--"

"Don't 'Jojo' me; are you out of you're goddamn mind? We would've covered you up better or brought more water. Or better yet, we would've kept you home."

"What, the hell are you talking about, 'kept me home'?"

"You heard me. You knew we were coming to Egypt and you didn't say anything about this. Did it not once occur to you that it'd get more than a little hot?"

"...It did, but we made it all the way here. I was fine up until now, so what's the problem?"

"That's even worse. You had well over a week to say something and you didn't bring it up once like your health is some minor inconvenience."

"I was fine! I had it covered for the most part."

"Tch, yeah; that's why we had to call in a fucking helicopter, possibly telling DIO how close we were. You were so fine that we had to press ice and cold rags to your body and monitor your fucking heartrate. I had to carry you into this fucking hotel room and you think you had it covered?"

"I meant I had it covered up until now, dickhead; I just wanted to help! You're acting like it wasn't bright as hell at 8 pm!"

"Polnareff told us you were panting like a dog before the stand made it hotter."

"Cuz it was hot as fuck, Jotaro! I can't help if more vulnerable to heat than you!"

"That's why you shouldn't be here. You're basically telling me you were fine this entire fucking trip but now that DIO's close enough to us to fight us himself you're not at you're strongest anymore."

Their eyebrows furrow. "What?"

"You were unconscious for about an hour, (Y/n). I had to watch your body jolt every time you swallowed water, involuntarily might I add. So, you're either gonna stay in this air conditioner room or I'm getting the old man to call another helicopter to bring you home."

"What?! You can't do that, I'm not going anywhere."

"And I'm not asking. It'd be less work for you to just stay put here, but I don't really trust you to; you're stubborn. So take your pick, but you're not fighting anymore."

"You don't think the guys are gonna be pissed about this? They'll back me up, I came all this way and helped!"

I sigh, walking away from the bed, "Why do you think I'm telling you this now?"

Their jaw drops slightly, looking for their next words. The silence was tense as their head hung in shame and frustration, hopefully seeing this from my perspective. I sigh deeply.

"I came because DIO is dangerous, there's a possibility that I won't come back alive. That's why I didn't care, I didn't tell anyone cuz I knew you wouldn't let me come."

"You're being way more selfless than you need to be. You shouldn't be fighting him if you're also going to fight the temperature. It's not fair to you or us if you die by something other than a stand user or DIO himself. Especially if it's because we didn't know."

They look away from me, body still weak, "I'm sorry."

"I just don't wanna see you die, in vain or otherwise. Stay here with Iggy, I'm not asking you, (Y/n). We'll come back when we're done and we'll all go home."

"Iggy's staying?"

"Again, I don't trust you to stay here and not come find us."

"...You're right..." They sniffle, avoiding eye contact still, "About everything."

"I'm not mad, just worried."

"I get it, I was too selfless. Just go, save your mom. And don't die trying."

I give them a little smirk and pull down the brim of my hat as I walk to the door, letting Iggy in as I open it.

(a/n): I singlehandedly saved Iggy by writing this fic 😭😭

[jiminsinterlude]

Shamless | PJM

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Summary: No matter how much you hate him, you always end up in bed with him.

“Maybe if you let me fuck you, I could give you a different perspective.”

-> Smut; Associates

Warnings: unprotected sex, oral sex(f.), fingering, teasing, overstimulation

-

I hate him. That was the constant thought that came to your head whenever Jimin was mentioned. But here you were, in his bed with your legs spread wide open for him.

Jimin held both of your legs open as he fucked you with his tongue. His tongue slipped in and out of your hole, pushing it as deep inside as it could go. The feeling made you a moaning mess.

One of your hands were tugging at his hair and the other gripping onto the bed sheets. "Shit Jimin, You're so good."

Did you really hate him? Maybe just him as a person. But you do love the pleasure he always brings you. Jimin slipped his tongue up to lick at your clit. He pressed down hard with the flat of it, licking and sucking. Your eyes rolled back even more, squeezing your legs shut around his head. That didn't last long though as Jimin pushed your legs together and up towards your stomach, holding them down with his left arm.

With his right hand, he brung it down to enter his fingers inside of you. His middle and ring finger circled around your hole before pushing in. You let out a soft gasp as they sunk inside. Jimin pumped his fingers slowly to get you adjusted to the feeling. He does this every time to tease you knowing you can definitely take whatever he does.

He began to pump them faster, listening to the moans you let out. Jimin enjoyed your noises and soft pleas of you moaning out how good he feels. He knew how much you so called 'hated him' and really found the whole situation amusing. You hate him but he has you screaming out to the top of your lungs almost every night. And there were days where Jimin would sit and think about how you guys started hooking up in the first place.

"Jimin go away." He only moved closer to you, closing you into a corner of the art class. He was curious and wanted some answers to a certain topic. Jimin wasn't going to ask the question straight up so he basically sugar coated it.

"Tell me Y/N, what's your problem with me exactly?" You turned around to face him. A smirk was placed across his lips. Was he really asking you that right now? But seeing how close he was made your body temperature rise.

"Back up Jimin." He closed the gap up in between the two of you. His body was basically on yours.

"Not until you answer me." You hitched a breath and pushed him away slightly but he gripped your wrist softly and held them. Jimin wasn't going to give up until he got his answer.

So you gave him the answer, the close proximity was making your blood rise. Only due to the fact that you couldn't figure out if you enjoyed being so close to him of not. Your body was telling you one thing but your head was indecisive. "You're very cocky Jimin. Rude and so fucking sassy."

"What if I make you change your mind about that Y/N?" The way he said your name made your heart drop. It was so—seductive. But you couldn't fall for it, you knew why you really hated Jimin. Nothing can make you change your mind.

"No matter what you do, I would still feel the same way."

"Maybe if you let me fuck you, I could give you a different perspective." He has to be kidding right?

"Oh you're so full of yourself Jimin, Like I would ever let you fuck me."

"Jimin! Oh Fuck." You clenched around his fingers as you felt yourself cum all over them. Jimin kept his pace fast, even with his tongue. He drove you to overstimulation and you felt yourself about to squirt.

That was until he pulled away from you completely. Jimin let go the hold of your legs and began to suck on the fingers that were once in you. You whined out at the empty feeling, missing how good he made you feel.

Jimin gazed over your naked body, watching you catch your breath. You opened your eyes and looked at him. His fingers were no longer in his mouth and were palming his hardened dick through his Calvin Klein underwear. What's taking him so long to fuck me already? You asked yourself, craving Jimin.

You watched him start to take his underwear off and toss them somewhere across the room. The adrenaline in your body rushed, you were getting excited.

"Look at you Y/N. So ready to be fucked." You could only nod your head. "Tell me how you want it."

You stayed laying on your back. Missionary, you wanted missionary. So you could be able to look at Jimin while he fucks you. To look at the person you "hate", while he fucks you. Something you said that would never even happen.

Jimin smirked at you as he moved closer to you. He began to align his dick with your hole. The second you felt his bare tip push against your hole, you were gripping onto the sheets. He noticed and shoved himself into you.

You screamed out in pleasure, rolling your eyes back. "Fuck Jimin." He started off slow, adjusting himself to your wet insides. You rubbed up his toned arms, digging your nails into them. Jimin leaned down, resting his body onto yours. His lips met yours the second he sped up his pace.

His thrusts were fast, basically drilling you into the bed. You had your arms wrapped around his neck, fingers tangled in his hair again. Moans were shared during the sloppy kiss. It was hard to keep up with the kiss but the two of you continue to smash your lips against each others.

The bed creaked underneath the two of you. It didn't do this the first few times the hooking up began. He must've been fucking you so hard that the bed was starting to be effected. Jimin slammed into you harder and harder and the kiss eventually broke.

The two of you stared at each other with low eyes, mouths hanging open, and moans leaving out. Your hands were roaming his back, feeling every inch of his warm skin. A tear slipped out of your eyes from the intense pleasure. Jimin was killing your pussy, you loved it.

Your back arched against the bed and your nails digged into his back. You began to get so caught up in pleasure that you stopped moaning and only focused on each of Jimin's rough thrust. He noticed your eyes fluttering and heavy breathing. As well as the clenching around his dick. You were going to cum soon.

Jimin pulled almost all the way out before slamming back in. He repeated this motion and it definitely brung back your moans. You yelped out each time his tip met your cervix.

"Jimin...You fuck me so good." He slightly smirked.

"I know I do." Your head turned and gazed at the lamp next to you, not wanting to look at his face after that cocky remark. Jimin didn't appreciate it and stopped moving. You immediately looked at him, begging him to keep going. "Look away from me again and I won't fuck you at all."

You didn't even get the chance to respond, Jimin was fucking into you again. Slowly but rough. The two of you kept eye contact, deep into the pleasure of each other. Your walls closed in on Jimin as you came on his dick. Jimin's thrust got sloppy and he was going to cum too.

"You know I hate you so much Jimin." You tried your best to say between the moans that left your mouth. He shut his eyes tightly and moaned out, cuming inside of you.

"I know you do." He responded before leaning down to kiss you again.

[zprites]

Rise! Turtles with Sick S/O Headcanons

So, since I am fighting for my life against mono (yet again), I wanted to write out some headcanons on how I think the Rise! boys would care for their sick S/O. Just a silly little list, but I hope ya'll enjoy!

Imma go lay down now.

Taglist: @turtle-babe83, @manduse, @morning-sun-brah, @crazysarah-98, @pacoholin, @iamdefinitelytheratking

Raphael

Look, he loves you with all his heart and will go to the ends of the earth if it would make you feel better

Will make darn sure you don't overexert yourself

Unfortunately this means that he will literally not let you get out of bed and insists on doing everything himself

Which can get a tad annoying, but his heart is in the right place

"Why aren't you in bed?", "Raph, babe, please I need to pee. No-stop! I don't need help, I can pee by myself!"

Will still hover outside the bathroom

Gives you so much water - wants to be sure you're getting enough fluids, bladder be damned

Out of meds? No problem - he will go to the drugstore at 4am to get you anything you might need

Leonardo

Will get you literally anything you need

Spoils you all the time already, but when you're sick? Oh boy, be prepared to be spoiled

However he will still find a way to tease/flirt in an effort to lift your spirits

“Hey, is it hot in here or is it just you?”, "Leo, my temperature is literally 100.4 F.", "Don't worry darling, I have the fire extinguisher ready in case you combust."

Having body aches? He's already drawn a warm bath with a few drops of eucalyptus oil with your name on it

Will also gently massage your body if it's super sore in some areas

Checks your temperature religiously while writing down everything in a little notebook to monitor how you're recovering

Expect to still get full on kisses on the mouth - he is not afraid to get sick too and suffer alongside you

Donatello

You bet your ass this man will show up in that hazmat suit from 'Down with the Sickness' to protect himself from getting sick

"Do you seriously have to wear that DeeDee?", "I love you, but the last thing I want is your germs invading my breathing space."

Will take it off if you're not contagious though

In the meantime, this man will try to narrow down exactly what you have contracted and help you accordingly

Knows exactly what meds to give you for any symptom as well as dosages

Because of this, be prepared for alarms to go off every hour or so

May or may not have invented a 'cure-all' pill when you had a really bad sick spell

It may have made things worse - still feels totally guilty about it and is still making it up to you years after the fact

Michelangelo

Makes you the best soup - the kind that is simmering on the stove for several hours and made with so much love

Best believe that if you're being stubborn about meds he will slip them into your food or drink

“Here, drink this.”, "Ew, do I have to? It tastes digusting.", "That means it's good for you, now drink it all sweetie."

Not above bringing out Dr. Delicate Touch if needed

Will make sure you are comfortable and will deadass try to cuddle your sickness away

Grabs all your blankets and pillows you own and will make a fort on your bed

Snuggles and forehead kisses galore

Lets you pick out what to watch together and makes no complaints

[solarpunkpresentspodcast]

Is This the Last Dance Before the Lights Go Out?

I hate to say it, because it’s not very solarpunk, but it feels a bit fin de siècle here right now. Like we’re in the last days of normality before we fall off the cliff. Every time we have a nice moment—in the late spring splendor of the garden, for instance, or even just when walking the dog through the fields—we stop, Spouse and I, and tell one another to enjoy it. Because feels like that in the midst of the cataclysms that are about to strike us, we’re going to look back at these little things and wonder how we could have taken them for granted.

And it’s not just us who’s feeling this way. Lately, when we have dinner with friends or chat with our neighbors, at some point, the group converges suddenly upon such thoughts. Be grateful for these moments, we murmur to each other, where we can relax together on our backyard patio, drinking cold white wine, and watch the sunset. Understand that they’re a luxury. Such days are numbered and once they’re gone, not all of us, and maybe not even any of us, will see their likes again.

Who can blame us for seeping in this bittersweet gloom? A perfect storm doesn’t just seem to be looming, it feels like it’s adding elements to itself all the time.

At first it was just the global warming we are still failing to address. But now it’s clear that this global warming is not just bringing deadly heatwaves, droughts, bigger and more frequent storms, sea level rise, and flooding, it’s also threatening to collapse patterns of ocean circulation within the next decade or two such that northern European temperatures will drop to resemble those in Anchorage, Alaska, Newfoundland and Labrador, Canada, and Kamchatka, Russia. On top of all the other disastrous effects this would have—including sudden massive heating of lower latitude areas along the Atlantic—just imagine what would happen if farming were no longer possible in such heavily populated places like Britain, Ireland, northern Germany (where I live now!), Poland, and all of Scandinavia. Food prices soaring all over the world, anyone? Plus widespread famine (and not just in Europe) and the collapse of major economies? If we were young enough to start over again and had the money to move, I’d say we decamp back to my home state of California before climate change turns us into actual refugees. I’m sure I’ll kick myself in five, ten, or fifteen years when saying our garden full of potatoes and the neighbor’s Muscovy ducks and alpacas will be what gets us through the winter here without starving is not just a matter of gallows humor.

Meanwhile, we’re balking at getting the renewable energy revolution going fast enough soon enough to avoid environmental disaster. And why are we balking? Because it’s “too expensive” or because we just don’t want to change anything about the way we live, although these arguments are ridiculous because the cost of doing nothing is astronomically higher and the changes are coming anyway.

We’re also refusing to reverse the widening wealth gap that’s ultimately what’s driving people into voting for the far right, neo–Nazis, and other politicians with authoritarian urges and the desire to destroy democracy… even though these people and political parties will only add fuel to the fires that need to be put out.

Then there is all that misinformation and all the conspiracy theories that seem so perfectly constructed to stop us from working sensibly together to tackle the existential environmental, economic, and social problems that are making it increasingly harder for us to thrive, or often, even to survive.

On top of all that, here in Europe, we have the added issue of the political failures of the post–Cold War period that have had us sleepwalking into a dangerous situation with a resurgently imperialistically hungry Russia. After the Wall came down and the Iron Curtain opened, European politicians thought we could just be friends and trading partners with Russia. Because Russia’s interest in selling us natural gas and crude oil would weave them into our economic world and make them value our markets enough for them never to want to wage war on us ever again. Thus would we lull them into peaceful capitalist prosperity and democracy.

Cozy in that lazy thinking, Europe dropped its guard, domesticating itself rather than its enemy. Its armies grew thin and its stocks of weapons and military machinery thinner. Today, countries like Germany would need the greater part of a decade to build up enough weapons, equipment, and trained manpower to wage even a strictly defensive war. It’s not much different for any other country in Europe. Which is not the position you want to be in when one of your neighbors starts dreaming of their glorious imperialistic past.

To hear politicians and analysts tell it, unless some political miracle convinces Putin to remove crush western democracy from his bucket list, we have three to five years to prepare for war. Such a miracle might be as simple as a heart attack. More likely it involves a sudden splurge in funding to beef up European defenses ASAP plus upcoming elections handing power over neither to the far right in Europe nor to the raging danger that is Donald Trump nor to the Republicans party that has been taken over by people who’ve lost their tether to common sense, compassion, and reality. In other words, yes, we really are talking about a miracle.

I’m no professional, but from my little perch here in Northern Germany, having as long as three to five years feels optimistic. Ukraine is all that is standing between Putin and the massive expansion of his war. If Trump and the Republicans roll into the White House, that’s got to bump up the war is coming to us timeline to... sometime next year or the one thereafter. Seems to me, anyway, because Trump & Co will pull US support out from under Ukraine faster than you can say God damn the electoral college and then she will fall.

Won’t that be the start of the wider war, for the next stops will be Baltic states, like Estonia, Latvia, Finland, Sweden, and Poland, plus neighboring countries like Moldova? Or maybe it won’t even wait that long. Knowing this danger for Estonia, Estonia’s current leader has already more or less said that, in order to save Estonia, they’ll give everything the country has, in terms of funding and military support, to stop Russia from taking Ukraine. And since Estonia is a member of NATO, as soon as they do more than send funding and equipment, doesn’t that drag a huge chunk of Europe straight into the war, even before Ukraine falls entirely to Russian aggression?

Again, I’m no professional on this front, I just live here. But likewise, it’s also hard to see how it will be as long as three to five years before we’re all at war, given how zealously Russia is working to undermine peace, prosperity, and political stability in the West and how feebly we’re counteracting this. Russia takes a mile for every inch we give them, spreading misinformation, causing destabilizing political problems, and committing not even terribly covert acts of sabotage. This sowing of dissent aims to weaken western countries and coalitions ahead of the overt war Russia plans to wage on us. We totally know this! But our politicians are too frightened to retaliate against this hybrid war against us , lest it trigger a real war between us. You can all but hear Putin laughing into our timid faces. Real war is coming anyway!

All of that (plus a bunch of other equally dismal stuff that I haven’t had room to mention) is why living in Europe right now feels like the last dance before the lights go out.

Is it any wonder my thoughts have also recently frequently turned to how such a war would unfold?

Will tanks speed down the little lane we live on? (Honestly, actually, I’ve seen that already, because I think back in summer of 2022, they were training Ukrainian soldiers to drive Marder armored vehicles around here. There was a week when every time I looked out the window, one was zipping by… and let me tell you, it’s amazing how fast these things can race by.)

Will bombs flatten our house?

What can I do to prepare for what is coming? I live in Germany, a couple of hours from the Polish border. So, there is somewhat of a buffer there, but not a huge one. It isn’t inconceivable that there might be fighting here, or that we’d be the target of drones.

I don’t mean to be self–centered about this. There’s a whole lot of destruction and carnage that has to happen to other people and other countries before battles happen here. But it’s not right to just shrug this looming war off by thinking oh, well, it won’t happen here.

I feel like, at my age, I’d make a terrible solider. Never mind that I’ve never been great at blindly following orders, I’m small, middle aged, out of shape, and full of asthma and allergies and chronic injuries, the battle scars from too much fun and soccer playing in my twenties, too much swilling of diet soda, and too much stress in my career. Yet, wouldn’t it make more sense for me to go and fight than it would for someone in their late teens or twenties (or even thirties), who has so much more of life in front of them? Spouse says, well, it would be our jobs to do all the jobs that wouldn’t be getting done if a good chunk of the young men were off fighting. We’d be farming, or helping out in hospitals, or riding around in garbage trucks. I don’t know if that would really feel like doing enough. Part of me thinks he’d be among the first to sign up if Germany gets invaded, even the current work that he’s doing would be critical to maintaining Germany’s renewable energy infrastructure.

I’ve also been thinking a lot about how we live about 100 miles from the nearest city that would likely be hit by nuclear weapons, should things get that bad. I think that means we’d be the ones to die of radiation sickness, unless we could stay in a fallout shelter for the couple of weeks it takes the most acutely dangerous radionuclides to decay away. But, of course, like everyone else here, we haven’t got one in our backyard. We don’t even have a cellar. And I don’t want to die in an old abandoned local potato cellar or in one of the dank cubbyholes that passes for a cellar under some of the neighboring houses.

So, I haven’t just started thinking, whelp, even though I finally let us work down the supplies of toilet paper and canned goods I began hoarding in February 2020, it’s time to build up the collection again. I’ve started wondering how I could maybe turn our downstairs guest bedroom into a fallout shelter. It’s already got brick walls and a concrete ceiling. They’re not thick enough, but it’s a good start. What if I bricked up the window and then lined all the walls with another layer of bricks? Would that do, so long as I solved the issue of the flimsy wooden door? Also, could we rejig our solar panels to use them as an island, isolated from the grid, so that we’d have lights and could run a pump a few hours a day to bring air in through a Hepa filter? We could pee into buckets and poop into ziploc baggies, but how would we deal with the dog? With paper, pens, pencils, and maybe even our laptops, and maybe even something as decadent as an exercise bike, at least we wouldn’t die of boredom. Oh… a radio! And batteries. I’d better add that to my mental list.

Then, the dilemma. We have our anniversary coming up. Should I buy him a Geiger counter? Or would it be better to wait until Christmas? Or his birthday early next year? Or can I put it off even longer than that? I don’t want to buy one if I don’t need to buy one, but I don’t want to wait until it’s too late and be unable to get one and then die because we left the fallout shelter too soon, or didn’t realize we had a leak that was letting in dusty radioactive fallout.

But, honestly, argh! I have never in my life been afraid of the future. I even made it through the entire 1980s without having more than the occasional flicker of anxiety about dying in a nuclear war. But now thoughts like these are tying my stomach in knots and keeping me awake deep into the night.

As much as I love solarpunk, and as much as I believe in solarpunk’s vision of a great future that doesn’t require that we go through an apocalypse first, it’s hard to be optimistic about that right now. I cannot shake this feeling that our systems have been so broken and the changes we need to make to the way we do everything are so great that the only way forward is for it all to fall apart. It is hard to shake the feeling that we truly are about to go over that cliff.

That doesn’t mean I won’t stop fighting for the changes we need to make to avoid catastrophe on our way to a sustainable future. But I’m still stuck with the melancholy of these very possibly being the last nice days I will see for either a while or the entire rest of my life.

[silly-sirenz]

I saw my friend do this so I was wondering if I could get matched with a Hazbin Hotel character too 🥺

• My pronouns are she/her

• I am straight

• I’d say I can be sort of shy with groups of people, but once I’m in a one-on-one conversation with someone I am fun and energetic. I always try to make people laugh, and I always have a lot going on in my mind, so I tend to talk a lot. I also get very anxious, so I tend to overthink things a lot and I often ask for reassurance that I’m not being annoying and stuff. I am also protective of the people I care about. Overall I just love to have a fun time and make people happy 👍

• I. LOVE. MUSIC!! As in I am constantly singing all the time. There’s a song stuck in my head? I am belting it out loud when I’m by myself. In public I will just hum it though. I also play the violin 🎻. I am also a HUGE anime nerd, it’s like the only thing I watch. I am a purple belt in judo (a martial art, like Ju Jitsu). I love reading as well, I have so many books it’s basically a collection at this point.

• I am a Virgo

• I love puns hehe

Thank you so much!!!! 🩷🩵

Thank you for asking . I might have got a bit carried away with this one, but i hope you enjoy 🖤

I would match you up with...

🐤LUCIFER🐤

● The Hotel can get quite overwhelming at times. So often, you will spend your evenings playing violin by the balcony.

● It's a way for you to de-stress from the crowds of loud personalities downstairs, and you find it rather relaxing until one night where you catch a snake moving towards you from out of the corner of you eye.

"Not bad, kid."

● You shriek and jump back, causing him to chuckle.

● Lucifer didn't realise that there was another violinist in the hotel, and he asks to listen to you play some more.

●Nervously, you oblige. Not wanting to mess up in front of the King of Hell.

●However, as he listens, you notice a relaxed smile upon his face. He seems to be enjoying it, even though in your opinion you're far from perfect.

●He sees that you're still overthinking and proposes an idea.

"It's been too long since I've had a violin playing companion. Why don't you come over to the Palace every now and then? I'd love to tutor you."

● And so over the next few weeks, you play together and occasionally sing as well in the Palace library. It's huge and quiet and has all the music you could possibly need. He even lets you borrow books and sheet music between visits.

● It's nice spending one on one time with Lucifer. You can really discuss your shared passions with a lot of excitement, and he has no problem matching your enthusiastic energy.

●And sometimes (as long as you don't have any other plans, obviously), he lets you stay around longer to share some tea and freshly made royal pastries.

● The formalities drop between you, and you become close friends, who giggle at inside jokes and stolen glances.

● A few months later, he is helping you learn a very complex Paganini piece. However, the more you practice, the harder it seems to become.

● You groan with frustration.

● He asks you to put down your instrument and then takes a hold of your hands.

"I think I know what the problem is."

"Oh?"

You find yourself subconsciously stepping closer as his thumbs stroke over your knuckles.

"There's too much..." he tries to find the right word, "tension."

With uncharacteristic timidity, you look up, meeting his unwavering gaze.

"Is there anything we can do?" You ask, in a hushed tone, feeling a new sensation of the temperature rising.

Inching closer, he suggests, "Perhaps..."

● He jumps back when he is interrupted by a servant bursting into the room. There's an urgent meeting he has to attend.

● He sighs, almost turning back to say something to you. But he decides against it, storming off and leaving you in stunned silence.

● You lie on your bed back in the Hotel that night, replaying the events of the afternoon in your head, overthinking into oblivion. Perhaps it was guilt? Perhaps excitement? Maybe you had made the whole thing up.

●You jump when there's a knock at your window. Lucifer has turned himself into a bird and he taps once more on the glass with his beak.

●He reverts into his more familiar humanoid form once inside and after a moment of silence he begins to apologise for his behaviour that afternoon. The lack of boundaries, the rudeness of his departure.

●You are glad to accept his apology and forgive everything until he says,

"I don't think you should come back to the Palace anymore. It's nothing against you, I promise. I'm just too... tempted. And I dont know how you feel, but it wouldn't be right to jeopardise our friendship like that. I hope you understand -"

● Something hits you then. You stride over to him and take his uncertain face in you hands. You kiss him passionately, waiting for him to pull you closer before moving back, whispering against his lips.

"Next time you're not sure," you breathe, "just ask."

"Okay." He smiles before dipping you down, causing you to gasp.

"Now my love, let's try this again..."

● He is ever the gentleman in your relationship. Always polite, suave and loving.

●He's your biggest cheerleader, supporting your interests, admiring your physical strength and mental resilience.

●He often creates trinkets for you. Sometimes jewellery, sometimes little ornamental pairs of ducks...

●He's even written a song for you to boost you up on those days when you're not feeling your best and you need reassurance.

● Your senses of humour only grow as the relationship does, and you often leave little notes with puns on for each other to find.

●Eventually, when Charlie finds one of these notes, she is overjoyed. It's been a while since she's seen her dad so happy, and now that she finally knows why, she is eager to welcome you into her family dynamic with open arms.

[danses-with-dogmeat]

S is for -- Sunny Smiles

Sunny was just so much fun, I loved her in-game, and writing for her was great! Ahh, another winner I was really happy to see recognized 😊

I hope y'all enjoy!

And here is the 2k event masterlist, for your browsing pleasure!

--

Pair: Sunny Smiles x g/n! Six

Dialogue: “Are you sure there isn’t anything I can do to help?”

Word: Savor

Rating: SFW

Category: Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 1.3k

“So, pardner, you gonna tell me what’s wrong, or are we both jus’ gonna sit here in the dirt and sulk?” 

Six only sighed in response, their eyes still trained on the way Cheyenne padded about on quiet paws, sniffing all there was to sniff in the old graveyard, as the meager wildlife came alive beneath the slow-rising moon. 

“Hey, not talkin’ to myself here, am I?” Sunny gave Six a shove with one hand, jostling the still-full Sunset Sarsaparilla they held, until little droplets darkened the dusty ground below. “What’s yer problem tonight? Yer the one askin’ me to come all the way up here just afore the sun falls, and fer what?” 

“Sorry.” Six managed, but their head felt about as jumbled as it had the first time they found themself in the Goodsprings Cemetery. “I-it’s just…” 

They trailed off as the words scampered away from their tongue frustratingly. 

How am I supposed to explain a problem like this? 

And why the hell did I think Sunny would be the right person to tell? 

“You drag me out here to tell me you’re in love with me or somethin’?” 

Six had, evidently, chosen the wrong time to take a sip of their sarsaparilla, as that too, sprayed over the ground in their shock.

“Heh, seems like it!” Sunny gave them another shove as she laughed, and though Six’s mind still ached and their conscience still ran amuck in every direction, they couldn’t fight the grin that tugged at their lips. 

“That’s not quite… Well, I do like you, Sunny. But I thought that bit was already pretty obvious.” 

“Oh?”

They tried to tell themself that they didn’t like that smug look on their friend’s face, but… yeah, it would’ve been a lie. And Sunny could always see through their lies, even from the start. 

Six smiled all the more at the thought of it, of their first meeting, the way she’d taught them to shoot, how to live off the land without poisoning themself; helping them, and yet, she'd been anything but sunny to Six all throughout the first month of them knowing each other. 

Even so, it only made them more fond of her. 

Her prickly pear personality, her quips and shoves of her elbow into their ribs… But still, she’d helped them more than anyone else in the wasteland. Sure, without Doc Mitchell and Victor, they’d never have made their way out of the grave. But without Sunny? They’d have made it maybe 20 yards outside town before keeling over, dead by some gecko or powder ganger, an unforgiving plant, or just plain heatstroke. 

“No, I just…” They continued slowly, still wrapped up in their own fond thoughts, and their jumbled, upsetting ones.

“I came back here for a different reason than that. Hell, if that was it, we could’ve stayed down at the bar for me to tell you.” 

“That’s what I was sayin’.” 

Six braced themself for another shove of an elbow as their friend raised her arm, but Sunny only took a sip of her own sarsaparilla. 

“But okay, so that yer smitten with me ain’t it…” Six let out a giggle at the way she sounded annoyed by that, “Well, then what’s the issue? Spill it, so we can head back down the hill. Place creeps me out. Cheyenne too. 'Specially at night.” 

“Yeah, how do you think I feel?" Six scoffed good-humoredly, "I died here.” 

“That’s a little dramatic, don't ya think? You look fine to me. Now come on, Six. You’re stalin’, don’t tell me yer not.” 

She turned her body towards them with mildly violent intent, and the courier raised their hands in surrender.

“Alright! Alright…” Six took a breath as they looked back out into the, now blue-toned, desert. The heat from the orange sand contrasted greatly to the dropping temperature of the air, and they felt themself shiver. 

“I just… I don’t even know if you can help me, honestly, but... you’re the only one I could think of that would be honest with me."

They could feel her eyes burning into them, but Six only made eye contact with darkening horizon.

"Just... you’re sure you didn’t know me, like… before?” 

“Not sure I catch yer drift there, Six.” Sunny’s voice was a little softer now, as though detecting her friend’s delicate state. 

“I mean, no one knew the real me. I could’ve been anyone, you know? What if I was… horrible, or something? Maybe that’s why I’ve had such rotten luck.” 

“Six, you sure yer not–”

“No, but think about it, Sunny. You’re the best– I mean, the only good thing that’s happened to me since I was dragged out of that hole." They gestured to their would-be grave with one hand. "Maybe that’s karma or something, maybe I was kept alive, not because I was supposed to live, but because the world wasn’t done punishing me yet.” 

“I can’t be the only good thing.” Sunny said, and though she smiled, Six could see the sympathy in her expression as they turned to face her. It was a strange quality to notice in someone like her. 

It made them hurt, to see the way they pained her with their words. 

Didn't make their voiced thoughts any less honest though.

“I’m not even that good, you know? So if I'm all you've got goin' for ya, well...” 

Sunny cringed dramatically, and they both chuckled a bit. As the laughter faded, Six dropped their bottle to the sand with a definitive sigh. 

They’d gotten what they wanted out of their system, just voiced their concerns to the world, to her, those thoughts that’d been spiraling around their troubled head, uninterrupted, for too long now. 

“An’ ya can’t… I mean, there’s no way o' knowing.” Sunny continued, placing her own bottle on the ground next to theirs. “Don’t think it’s all as complicated as all that fate and destiny stuff. An’ the karma bit, too. Could just be yer an unlucky clutz.” 

“Thanks. That makes me feel better, Smiles.” 

As they twiddled their fingers together, looking down into the dark sand between their knees, they felt one arm sling itself over their shoulders, and then Sunny was leaning against them. 

“Look, I wanna say the right thing for ya, Six, but thing is, I just don’t know for sure. Like you said, we didn’t know ya in the past, but… That don’t really matter to me now. I like the gal/guy that was dragged outta the dirt by ole Victor, what can I say?” 

Another weak laugh escaped Six at that, but they found themself leaning further into her contact at the-- somewhat-- comforting words. 

“You know, Sunny, I think you might’ve just said it right, there.” 

Six felt themself relax a bit. Maybe they didn’t know who they were before, but… maybe that shit just didn’t matter-- matter as much as who they are now. 

“Are you sure there isn’t anythin’ more I can do to help? Yer so sensitive, you know. Jus’ wanna make sure you’re okay.”

“Yeah, no, your backhand compliments are really doing it for me. So I think I’m all better now.” 

“Well, I’m not just good for my backhand compliments," They heard the smile in her voice, "I’ll tell ya that much, pardner. Word on the road is, you like me… An’ maybe-- just maybe, now-- I might like you a lil bit too. I thought maybe we could explore those feelings some, how’s that sound to you?” 

Six's eyes were wide as her words met their ears, and they felt a warm flush rise to their cheeks, heating their body from the inside out.

Gotta be careful here. Sunny likes to tease me, maybe if I just...

"Care to give me, ah, a little hint as to what you mean by that?" They tried, "I don't wanna assu--"

Before Six could finish, Sunny pressed a kiss-- not to their cheek, not to the side of their mouth-- but she pulled them in with both hands, and kissed them like she wanted to taste the sarsaparilla in their belly.

It was exactly the kind of all-consuming gesture they'd dreamed she'd make one day, and Six couldn't help but smile into it, through their shock, and revel in the fact that that day is today.

[remyfire]

caught masturbating, any ship 👀

Kink Writing Prompts (no edits, we write smutty one-shots like MEN 🫡) (Hawk/Trap btw, and thank you!!)

There's a chill in the air tonight, not quite driving everybody to absolute misery, but just biting enough that a couple of hours ago, Hawk helped John roll down the flaps on the tent with fingers that ached without their gloves.

Honestly, though? It's kind of nice. Like being tucked in a blanket fort back home under the dining room table. If John closes his eyes, he can almost feel Cathy and Becky there, curled up with a bowl of popcorn, whispering and giggling and—

The pang comes. The agony. John huffs as he rubs the bridge of his nose and kicks out a leg over the edge of his cot. It's not his first fucking war, but it's the one that's eating at him the most. Keeps thinking he's gonna get used to it, and then here comes another punch in the gut in one way or another—a shitty string of patients in OR, a hungry orphan, a whiff of perfume from one of the nurses that smells just like Louise.

There's a couple of ways he can go about shutting his head off tonight. One, he waits for Hawk to get done with his post-op shift and they go hunting nurses. Two, he just leans over and grabs some gin and gets the party started early. Three, he goes sauntering around camp until he finds a taste of heat that chases all the longing away by himself.

He could say that he knows why he's waiting for Hawk, ooooooor he can just casually pretend he doesn't.

It's kind of like making tea instead of settling for the bullshit they call coffee in the mess tent. Setting the scene. Getting his mug ready, whatever bag he wants from the most recent box Louise sent his way in her care package. Sprawling out lazily while he listens to the water begin to stir. The tickling of the bubbles, the rising heat, the anticipation. Knowing that even when the kettle begins to whistle, the tea's still gonna have to steep good and slow, color blooming in the water in dizzying swirls, long before he'll ever take that first hot, bitter sip onto his tongue.

John's not a fancy guy, but his lips twitch all the same at his mind's wanderings right now. Listen to him. He keeps this up, somebody's gonna start thinking he's like those classy Boston types—the ones who look at guys like him and sneer 'cause they think they know everything that John McIntyre is with a single glance.

These few months have been the scene-setting, he thinks. The kettle's been heating. Inside, it's starting to sweat. Every time he and Hawk lock eyes in OR, each moment their shoulders brush when they're tight in a Jeep, the temperature's been rising. This silent sense of waiting to see which one of them is gonna flinch forward first.

Honestly, he's not sure what Hawk's been waiting on—he's as bent as some fucking Hohmann retractors. Hell, John would've gone for it ages ago if he didn't enjoy the tension as much as the release.

Speaking of tension...

Why not?

In the name of chasing off the ache with an appetizer before the main course, he tugs his glove off with his teeth and lets it drop on his chest, then spits in his palm. Maybe later on, he and Hawk'll split a nurse, and John'll take his time good and slow just so he can tease Hawk for letting go too fast, watch him flush as he grins and tries to find his words to shit talk him right back. Now? He's just gonna take the edge off.

Without a hint of shame, he shoves his pants and boxers down around his thighs. The flaps are down. Hawk's in post. Frank's off with Margaret, no matter what his shitty little excuse was. Anybody walks in here without a knock, it's their own fault what they see.

He's got a million fantasies to choose from, but the problem with thinking about Hawkeye is he's bound to swim straight to the surface. He's a little piece of work, isn't he? Pretty eyes and a soft mouth and long fingers, shoulders that are begging to be pinned down, tiny fucking legs that ought to be held against his chest while he's getting pounded. He's got these incredible noises he makes too, so many that almost sound like perplexed questions, like he needs permission to feel the pleasure that makes them bubble out of him in the first place.

As John works at himself, he chews on his bottom lip and lets out a ragged breath. Fuck, it really doesn't take much with somebody like Hawk. All he has to do is think about him pressing his hands into the wall, peeking over his shoulder, lashes low and coquettish as he arches his back. Or, God, no, maybe Hawk grabbing him by the shirt and throwing him down in the dentist chair, pinning him there with a hand on his belly while he yanks John's pants down and sucks him straight down to the hilt with a groan. Shit, the thought of being mouth to mouth with him in the pitch black darkness of supply, the heat of their breath tickling each other's lips as they jerk each other off hard and fast until Hawkeye starts to whine and John has to muffle him with a palm tight around his jaw—

The door creaks. A rush of wind. And John turns his head to see a wide pair of blue eyes, almost hidden under windswept black bangs.

The kettle, it seems, has come to a boil.

John bites back the urge to moan, but he can't stop himself from fucking up into his fist. "You wanna give the whole compound a show?" he growls.

Hawkeye darts in and all but slams the door behind him. "Jesus, Trap," he murmurs, thick as molasses.

"Ain't you supposed to be in post-op?" Maybe he should stop. Check in. Anything. But as he twitches in his grasp, another bead of precum slicking his grip, he also reminds himself that Hawk could've just walked right back out that door.

"Yeah, Henry needed..." Hawkeye won't stop staring at his cock. He takes a step forward, then shies back again, turning his head slightly even though his eyes stay right where they are, goading John to all but strip his cock from how fast he's jerking it. "H-He, uh, I'd forgotten to grab..."

Of course this would be how it happens, something this fucking random, Hawk looking like he's died and gone to heaven while John goads him on. He can't help but smirk. "Cat got your tongue, honey?" he teases breathlessly. "Shame. Could'a used that someplace else."

There it is, that punched-out groan, curved up just so right at the end. Hawk grabs the front of his own shirt, twisting it into a fist. He takes another step forward, then sits on the edge of his cot. "I-I've really gotta..."

John can see it, the wave of hunger all but overwhelming his bunkie, his sense of goddamn duty the frail dam that's holding it at bay. "You better get back," he breathes.

Hawkeye meets his gaze, sharp as a dagger. There's one, two, three seconds of searing contact before he licks his lips. "Do it. C'mon, Trap, let me see it."

"Fuck..." John tips his head back with a groan, letting the fire overtake him. "Yeah, you want it, Hawk?"

"Right fucking now, Trap, I don't have time for this."

Little fucking brat. John's so far gone for him. He bucks off the bunk with a sharp moan, doesn't give a shit about how he paints his shirt in his release. He rides it out, stroking himself until it hurts, until he's shivering in the thin sheet with a satisfied grin.

When he rolls his head to the side and opens his eyes, Hawk looks almost pissed, he's so focused on him. John's smile widens. "I'll see you after your shift, huh?"

Hawkeye takes a deep breath. He shoves something in his pocket, then gets to his feet, comes across the room, and reaches for him. John half thinks he's gonna pull him up for a kiss, but no. Hawkeye grabs his wrist and sucks his slick fingers into his mouth. John sits up with a punch of oversensitized agony in his gut, groaning as he watches Hawk clean the cum off his digits.

Hawkeye gives him one last look before he darts back out of the tent, leaving John boneless, pleased, and counting the seconds.

[whitelunaria]

Neglect [Gojo Satoru x Fem! Reader]

You massage your head lightly. Sometimes you don't understand why your boss would choose such bad writing to publish. Hell, no matter what, it's still your job.

You're almost asleep when Satoru presses a cold drink to your cheek. "Didn't I tell you that you'd be better off leaving that place? They're just enslaving you with never-ending work!"

You let out your breath. "They're not enslaving me, Satoru. They still pay me more than other editors. I'm not taking an easy money."

Satoru frowns as you refocus on your work. He grabs some potato chips and eats them. The man's eyes are on the ceiling of the apartment you guys are currently living in.

You've been dating for a year now. You wonder how you could fall in love with such a crazy guy who really tests your patience. But love is blind, right?

Satoru then gets up and sits next to you. His eyes were on the work you were revising. Without realizing it, he gave you a small grin. He gently put his hand on your stomach.

"I didn't know you've been editing that kind of script," he comments.

You shrug your shoulders. "Scenes like this are just flavoring in a story. I've fixed it so that readers can enjoy it better."

"Enjoy it, huh?" asks Satoru.

You knew immediately that something was wrong when Satoru said that. Your eyes locked with Satoru's and you could see the desire he was harboring. You swallowed lightly.

"You've been ignoring me all this time, (Nama). Do you think I'll continue to be patient?" Satoru asks.

You rounded your eyes as Satoru pulled your leg and brought you underneath him. Satoru immediately kissed you roughly on the lips and you felt your body temperature begin to rise. The man's kiss then dropped and he sucked on your nipple like a baby.

"Ah! Why are you doing this all of a sudden?" you ask.

Satoru shrugs his shoulders and picks up the tablet you were using to revise the piece earlier. "Now quickly read the scene from the beginning. I'll practice everything on you."

You think Satoru is just joking. But you see no doubt in his words. You swallow and start reading.

"H-he started making marks on her neck and chest to show- Ah!" you gasp.

Satoru sucked and bit your chest roughly. You knew that he wasn't one to play with subtlety. Signs of redness begin to appear on your private parts. Satoru's saliva makes your nipples look shiny.

"Continue," he said.

You read it with a shudder. "The man then licked her vagina. Ah! Not so fast!" you squeal.

Satoru ignores that and gives you oral sex. You're starting to lose your vision. Your head feels foggy. Satoru is so good at making you fly to the seventh heaven.

"What's next?"

Your hand weakly grabs the tablet. "He put his penis in her mouth," you say weakly.

Satoru smirked and opened his pants. He sat on the chair and you were underneath him. Your nose could smell the distinctive scent coming off of him. You open your mouth and start licking his penis.

Giving oral sex to Satoru is not an easy thing. When you guys were just dating, you choked many times because you couldn't take every part of his penis. But you can do that now.

Satoru grabs your hair and forces you to take his cock deeper into your mouth. He smiles at your sorry state.

"You look very beautiful with my cock in your mouth. But it would be even more beautiful if my cock were in your pussy."

Satoru is very vulgar. At first you were embarrassed to hear those words. But now it makes you even more aroused.

You quicken your mouth and you can hear Satoru sigh. Your mouth is full of his sperm and you're about to throw it out. Satoru who saw that immediately covered your mouth. "Swallow it."

You have no other choice and swallow it. Satoru took the tablet and gave it to you. You already knew what you had to do. "The pair then began to unite themselves to make a new life."

Satoru gave a small smile. "It doesn't seem to be a problem if the Gojo clan grows."

Before you know it, Satoru has inserted his penis into your vagina. You squeal softly. Satoru looked at you lovingly and ran his fingers through your hair.

He then began to move his body and savor the warmth of your pussy wrapped around his penis. "Hah... hah..." Satoru felt as if he was going crazy. He could never stop enjoying your body.

"Huh... You're not planning to impregnate me are you?" you ask with a small moan.

Both of you are adults and have jobs. You've both been thinking about marriage. But you still haven't really discussed it.

"What if I do?" grins Satoru.

Before you could answer, Satoru pounded his body hard. You scream involuntarily. You can feel Satoru's penis banging against the mouth of your womb. He seems to be really serious about it.

"Ahhh!!!"

You both sighed as you got your release. You immediately bury your face in Satoru's shoulder. "Tired?" asked Satoru.

You nodded slowly and Satoru chuckled. "That's too bad. I was going to continue this. But you have no choice dear."

Satoru reinserted himself and you couldn't help but enjoy it. Satoru takes you to your room. You can feel Satoru's penis constantly pounding the inside of your vagina as you walk.

Satoru laid you down on the bed and went back to moving his cock around. "I won't be able to get you pregnant if we only do that once. So hold on, okay? I'm sure it won't take long until you get pregnant."

"Up to... huh... you..." you stammer.

Satoru smiled and went back to moving his member roughly. Occasionally he adds kiss marks on your body and bites your nipples. Pain and pleasure mixed together.

"Now I'm going to give you a seed that might just succeed in fertilizing you," Satoru sighs.

"Ngh... I hope you'll take responsibility..." you say softly.

Satoru just smiles and speeds up his movements. He then strokes his penis and you can feel something warm flowing in your womb. Satoru releases his penis and lies down next to you.

His hand cradles your lower abdomen. "I can't wait to see our children. They're going to be so cute."

You hit Satoru on the head. "That's easy for you to say since you weren't the one who had to carry them for nine months. But yeah, I agree. They'll definitely be cute."

"I think we should get married before your belly gets too big," Satoru chuckled.

You didn't answer and just smiled a little. The two of you then fell asleep after a night of exhausting activities.

[hiheat]

Hi! I was wondering if you ever cook anything with a pressure cooker! I used one for the first time and honestly I got scared when it started hissing 😂

Hi! I do and thanks for asking!

The most important bit of the pressure cooker is the connection between the top and bottom. If that's not solid, things can go awry easily. Make sure you practice with an empty, dry pot a few times on how to connect the top to the bottom. You should be able to pull as hard as you can on the edges of the lid and it shouldn't budge if you've done it right. Caution: Do not pull on the valve or the temperature gauge (if you have one). Faiure to completely and properly close the lid is what causes the "lid embedded in the ceiling" kind of kitchen disasters you see in fail videos.

Also, there's sometimes a flexible seal that goes between the lid and the pot. If you have one, inspect it before every use. If it's cracked or dry, replace it before using the pressure cooker. It will not cause catastrophic failure like incorrect closure, but it will hiss and you might never make the desired pressure in your pot.

Next is the valve. The valve is what keeps your pot somewhere between a simple kettle and a horrid explosion. Although I'm exaggerating a little, it's not too far off. Normally we cook at 1ATM (atmosphere) which is the pressure of all the air around us. That's what you're using when you boil in s regular pot. However, since we learned that hot water will penetrate food faster at higher pressures, we designed the pressure cooker to do that.

The valve is usually a mechanical combination of a screw and a spring to define how much additional pressure you want to be in your pot. At the lowest setting, it will just hiss immediately and your outfit gauge will never register anything higher than zero pounds of pressure, since it's designed to show you differential pressure - the difference between the inside and pressure.

Another way to say it: the hiss is good. It means you're cooking at the pressure on the gauge.

As you tighten up the valve and apply heat, however, the pressure will begin to rise in the pot, pushing on that spring in the valve. When the pressure inside the pot is equal to the compression of the spring, the valve will open a little and let enough steam out to keep the pressure at that point.

If it's too high, open the valve a little. If it's too low, tighten it a little. Small adjustments. Make sure not to burn yourself on the escaping steam! It will be hotter than boiling water!

Also note, the stove temperature will drastically affect the pressure as well. General rule of thumb, use the lowest possible stove temperature to maintain the pressure and temp combination your recipe calls for.

So now you're pressure cooking! Just leave it. Don't tweak. Don't fiddle. Just leave it for the recipe time

Only a few things you need to watch:

1. Keep an eye on the pressure gauge. If it gets dangerously high, just turn off the stove and walk away. As it cools, the pressure will come down and then you can open the valve slowly to try to reduce more pressure. DO NOT try to open the pot.

2. Sometimes the valve gets clogged. If you hear it stop hissing, that may have been your problem. Turn off the heat, see if turning the valve a little helps. Nothing dramatic. Again, wait until it cools to open.

3. Sometimes you run out of liquid and things start to burn. Also an issue, no good way to solve. Heat off, just wait.

NB: There are "rapid cool" protocols for getting your pressure cooker open fast. They're not for beginners. Do not try them if you haven't done a successful cook the normal way.

If you make it to the end of your cook with no issues, great! It should have been hissing a little bit that whole time.

Turn off the heat. And wait.

Wait

Wait a little more

Then open the valve a smidge. :: Hissing intensifies ::

Treat this like a warm soda bottle that someone has just dropped but you really really want to drink.

Science sidebar: As the vessel cools, it loses pressure. As it loses pressure, the vessel cools. (PV=nrT -> the universal gas law, for the nerds in the room). Since the volume is constant (pot isn't getting bigger or smaller) you are basically left with pressure and temperature are proportional to.each other

Anyway, you have to just very patiently keep opening the valve a little at a time until the pressure reads zero. Zero. EXACTLY ZERO. AND THERE'S NO HISSING.

Only then can you start opening the lid.

If you try to open it while there's still pressure in the vessel, the best that will happen is you won't be able to (Some pressure cookers have safety interlocks that prevent them from being opened if there's any pressure). The worst that can happen is the lid and much of the contents will fly off and burn you and make a huge mess. So don't do that, please.

Once the lid is off, carefully stir. Make sure to scrape up the bits that might be stuck to the bottom. Do any thickening you want - you can treat it like s regular stewpot now. Just set the lid aside for careful cleaning. The valve and gauge especially need to be cleaned or they will retain little bits of food in them and not work well on your next batch.

All in all, it's not hard to use. You can practice with an inch of water if you want to try, without ruining dinner.

Just remember:

Hissing is good.

Never open when pressure is greater then zero.

As long as you keep those in mind, you'll be good!

(If you send s pic of something you've made in your pressure cooker, I'll post it!)

Happy Eating!

[swirly-potato]

hello i am writing a book in which the main character experiences a lot of trauma. please tell me if i’m writing this accurately.

Note: I know that every trauma response is different based on the person and the circumstances. This character, before the trauma, is a very didactic, intelligent person, and very caring, but a little socially inept and naive. (more below the cut)

Context: Alta (our character) is dropped into a fantasy world and separated from her best friend, who leaps in to try and find her. This world has magic, both in the form of ambient magic and tangible (spellcasting) magic. When Alta enters the world, she is given one of the magic categories: the ability to heal. The problem? Healers were wiped out by a powerful ruling force called the Academy, which then proceeded to strictly control as much magic as they could.

When her friend finds her, the meetup is incredibly happy. However, the friend has been manipulated into working for the Academy, not knowing they’re evil. When Alta reveals that she is a Healer, her friend reports her to the Academy, whose officers imprison her.

The trauma: After being dragged away by the Academy, Alta is knocked out for some time. Then, she is put into an arena (still dazed) where she is forced to fight her friend, who has been brainwashed (but Alta does not know that). She suffers mild burns all over her body and a severe burn+whip scar across her face (whip doused with kerosene and lit on fire). 

Then, she is locked in a cell for two years. The walls and floor are stone. Hygiene facilities, although provided, are inadequate (no toothbrushes, shower is heavily rusted, running water access is limited, sanitary/menstrual products barely work). The food is of subpar quality and barely nutritious enough to avoid malnourishment.

Temperatures rarely rise above 40F (4C), sometimes dropping below freezing at night. She is shackled to the wall and constantly being drained of any energy by machines that are meant to siphon off the Healer magic to keep it within the Academy’s control. 

For the first year, Alta does her best to keep her surroundings clean. The cell is devoid of any other life, save for her and whatever bacteria and spores there may be in the air. After the first year, Alta essentially begins to lose whatever remained of her sanity (her own words, not sure if that’s the right term).

After two years, the friend from before (who has been working her way up the ranks) comes in, blows up the place, and gets Alta out of there. However, she still has severe PTSD and trust issues from what happened.

What I have written, post-character trauma:

Alta cannot clearly remember any of the actual physical trauma- only a sense of hurt and despair.

Nightmares and dissociation are frequent.

Alta is now terrified of fire, whips, and people in masks.

Alta now speaks to others in a cold, guarded way (as opposed to the warm, formal way she spoke earlier)

Alta avoids being physically or emotionally vulnerable, putting up walls to stop any further harm.

I’ve been thinking about writing a scene where she’s whispering to herself, “I don’t want this, I don’t want this” and dazedly walking towards a very high cliff, intending to jump off. (Outcome not known yet.)

She is constantly fatigued/tired, has very little energy, and is physically weaker than before.

She is very territorial and aggressively protective of what is hers.

She takes a relatively long time to forgive, even for small things.

She keeps herself occupied with self-schooling.

She has developed a habit of pulling out her hair (although it did not last for more than a few months.)

And yes, she does heal. It takes nearly a decade, but she does heal. I just want to know if I’m writing the actual trauma part correctly, since I don’t have PTSD and have not experienced any form of trauma whatsoever.

Thanks and much love,

swirly-potato

[caidenreir098]

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Your Babies | 37

MASTERLIST

Sano Shinichiro x f!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Genre: Established Relationship, Angst

Warning: Spoiler warnings, Blood

Synopsis: Dim Stars ft. Hope

Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38

With his erratic heart leaping out of his chest with every step he makes, it feels as if his legs are about to give out the more he gets closer to your shop. With the crowd forming around the building along with the flashing lights coming from the police cars and ambulance, it almost feels like a nightmare when it feels like he can’t get through the barrier of people.

Thankfully, with a number of harsh shoves, he’s able to get to the front of the crowd that’s being held out by policemen.

Breathless, Wakasa tries his best to catch the policemen’s attention. “Excuse me! Sir! What happened here-”

“Sir, if you can just please stay there, this is a crime scene, civilians are not allowed-”

Shaking his head, it feels like his body temperature has both dropped and risen from the stress he’s going through. He didn’t expect to receive a call from you in the middle of the night. And he didn’t expect the said call to be about some break in happening in the shop.

So now, it feels like he’s just been thrown into a whirlwind of problems as he sees two kids, Keisuke and Kazutora, both being escorted by the police, along with some medics hauling in his friend, Shinichiro, in a stretcher. And lastly, the sight that makes his stomach churn and drop. He sees you being carried by the medics in a stretcher as well, skin tainted red from the blood that he hopes isn’t from you.

The sight of the two kids makes Wakasa’s body freeze when he sees Kazutora’s bloody hands. It almost makes bile rise up when he realizes what might have happened in there for things to end up like this. It’s almost unbelievable until he hears a voice from the nearby police’s radio about finding the chain cutter which must have been the weapon used.

His hands unconsciously form a fist when the two kids walk past him in order to get to the police car, his eyes glaring right onto the two kids only for his sight to be trained somewhere else when he notices Keisuke mouthing something to someone into the crowd. Craning his neck, it almost feels like his chest is about to explode when he sees Manjiro standing still in front of the crowd, dark eyes trained at the sight in front of him. Not a single emotion on his face.

It makes Wakasa immediately run to the kid, afraid of what the kid’s already seen due to you and Shinichiro being escorted right in front of them.

Pulling Manjiro into him, Wakasa immediately makes him turn away from the scene, hands cupping the child’s cheeks in order to force him to look up. “Mikey! How did you get here?!” Kneeling down in front of Manjiro, Wakasa wraps him up in his arms and forces the kid’s face onto his shoulder as he carries Manjiro into his arms. “I’m going to take you back home-”

Manjiro immediately shakes his head in haste. “No! I want to go with them!… Don’t take me home, I wanna see them… please Waka.” That’s when Wakasa feels the tears slowly drop onto his shoulder, his body completely freezing up as Manjiro starts to sob onto him. “I wanna… wanna make sure they’re safe.” Manjiro hiccups before Wakasa finally nods to himself, resolve crumbling at the mere sight of the aloof kid shattering in his arms.

“Excuse me, sir! Is there any way that we can go with the ambulance? I’m the victim’s cousin and this kid here is their little brother.” Wakasa speaks out to one of the attending officer’s who’s currently talking to one of the medics. Looking over at the two, the police officer asks for some ID before finally letting them get closer to the ambulance which is about to leave after the medics have strapped Shinichiro onto the machines while they test for your vitals seeing as you’ve slowly started gaining consciousness.

“Alright then. But we need someone who we can talk to regarding the crime scene. Do you think you can stand in for the victims while we wait for them to recover, Imaushi-san?”

Hastily nodding, Wakasa sets Manjiro down by the ambulance, cold hands gripping onto the kid’s shoulders as the police gestures for him to follow. “Mikey… I’m going to go with the police. You can handle yourself in the ambulance right? Or do you want me to take you home?”

With his big dark eyes filled with nothing but tears, Manjiro quickly shakes his head, hands gripping tightly on the door of the ambulance as he glances at both of your unmoving bodies. “Okay then. I’ll have Benkei follow so you won’t be alone then I’ll call Grandpa and Y/N’s parents. Be safe.”

Watching Manjiro get in the ambulance, Wakasa lets out a deep sigh as he looks down at his shaking hands, mind buzzing with thoughts that he cannot pinpoint. It fills his body with a heavy feeling that rushes through his veins, dragging him to the ground, but alas, he doesn’t have time to wallow in his own emotions right now. Looking back up, he squeezes his eyes shut for a few seconds to try and calm himself down before finally following the policeman from earlier.

It takes awhile for your consciousness to fully come back. Your head continuously throbs in a way that matches your erratic heartbeat. It makes it feel like your whole body is freezing with every breath you take as your eyesight slowly focuses. You don’t even notice Manjiro sitting next to you because your focus is solely trained on your fiance who’s right in front of you.

It makes your surroundings disappear, your ears filling up with cotton the more you focus on your lover in front of you.

Your skin tingles with every touch as you tightly hold onto his hand even though you have no strength left. One touch from one of the medics immediately loosens your weak hands from his as they try their best to check on your vitals, make sure that you’re okay. But you’re not.

You’re not okay.

Your lover is lying in front of you with his head bleeding onto the sheets.

He has numerous machines strapped to his body, trying their best to keep him stable but the liquid keeps oozing out. It continues to stain his skin, continues to dampen his hair which you’ve always had the pleasure of raking your fingers in. But now, with just one touch on his locks, you’re sure that your hands will be drenched in his warm blood.

It almost makes you want to hurl.

With the cramped ambulance caging you in, with every second spent inside, it feels as if your lungs are closing up.

“Ma’am. We need you to cooperate with us. We’ll take you to the ER then move you to a private room after we’re done making sure that you’re stable. You hit your head on the ground real hard and may have a concussion after.” Someone tries to talk to you as they try to remove you from Shinichiro’s body but all you can do is shake your head and sob out a ‘no’.

How can they even think of taking you away from Shinichiro when he clearly needs you beside him right now?

Can’t they see that you won’t be able to survive if you don’t see him now?

But alas, they managed to pry you from him and took you to one of the beds where they managed to lay you down. Your body is unable to move now no matter how much you want to lash out and run to Shinichiro.

It’s pathetic.

You can only cry out his name but even then, it is nothing but a pathetic rasp, voice long gone after what seems to be hours of crying. Hoping that they’ll have a bit more mercy with you and let you go see him.

After what seems to be an eternity, it seems as if they’ve finally deemed you good enough to go and sit by the door of the operating room. Your ragged  and bandaged body pressed against the cold and hard seats, unaware of the shivering body standing right in front of the doors. “Y/N!” You hear a rushed out whisper before your cold body is engulfed in someone else’s smaller one.

With your vision slowly focusing on him, it feels as if your chest is about to crack from the sheer pain that you saw in Manjiro’s eyes.

So dark.

So empty.

So much like Shinichiro’s.

And in just one second, it feels as if everything clears up in your head, the pain, fear and dread all manifesting in tears as your arms immediately wrap the young boy in your arms, pulling him closer to you as you cry into his hair while he does the same to you.

“Manjiro, what’re you-why are you here?” You manage to ask in between tears as you feel him tighten his hold on you.

“I-I wanted to make su-sure you two a-are safe…”

It feels so nostalgic.

Having him hug you as he cries. Reminds you of the years where he was much smaller and would cry at small things that he did.

It almost reminds you of the time when he and his sister cried after they both cut up Shinichiro’s cigarettes.

That’s all long gone now.

No more tears shed for small mistakes.

Now, all the two of you can do is cry into each other’s arms as you hope for the best. Hope that their big brother will make it even though it’s been hours since you’ve been here.

Hope that grandpa’s grandson will make it out alive and live another day.

Hope that the former Black Dragon’s president will continue to watch as his legacy grows into something unthinkable.

Hope that your lover - your fiance - will be able to make it through and live the life that the two of you have always dreamed of.

Everything seems so close now. It felt like everything was going right. Everything was falling into place.

It almost felt like it was too good to be true.

And it was.

What felt like an endless abundance of happiness for the two of you quickly crashed down just as you were starting to get used to it.

The shop was almost finished.

You two only had two more years until you can officially adopt the kids.

You have just started your new job.

It was all going great.

But now. You’ve crashed onto the hard ground, left to weep and beg for things to go back as it used to. You’re left cradling Manjiro into your arms, hoping to shield him away from the damage that has already struck him.

You’re losing hope.

And as more hours pass by, with new tears shed by new people arriving to wait for the result, it almost feels like the sun has not gone up with how dark everything is.

Even with your body screaming for you to sleep and rest. All you can do is cradle the two kids in your arms, unmoving as you make sure that both Manjiro and Emma are still sleeping. Grandpa had stopped by with Emma a few hours ago. Told you that he’ll take care of the paper work with Wakasa but you can only nod your head at them, not able to utter any other word in fear that you’ll tear up and make the kids feel even worse.

You can’t afford to wallow in your own pain right now. Not when you have his siblings right next to you, in need of comfort and someone to lean on.

You need to be strong.

You need to be reliable.

You need to be someone that the kids can find comfort in.

Even if you can barely keep yourself together.

Suddenly, the door opens, immediately waking the two kids up as a surgeon bows, your heart immediately dropping as you wait for their words.

It feels like your body is thrumming from the sheer dread and anticipation, Benkei’s presence doing nothing to soothe you as the four of you stare at the surgeon who lets out an apology.

“I am so sorry. We did everything we could.”

In an instant, the little hope that you had left in your body disappears. Leaving nothing but your shaking form, desperately clutching onto the kids as they whimper onto your shirt, unable to cry out any more tears.

Bowing down, you grit your teeth, hoping to the stars that you’ve always looked up at that you don’t break down now but alas, a sob still escapes you. A sob still escapes as your tears all trickle down onto the floor. It feels like something sharp has grown in the middle of your chest, immediately piercing every single nerve in your body.

“T- tha-” Taking in a deep breath, you try one last time. “Thank you fo-for doing your be-best.”

It seems as if in one single night, all of the stars in the universe have dimmed.

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