#which sucks because at that point it would usually be weird for me to admit to the person that I don't know their name.

[crtastrophic]

would love for my faceblindness to stop fucking me over

[vinxhwrites]

I've had this idea in my drafts for a long time and only finished it today because I was procrastinating on the many many assignments I have for this week. I've never written smut before so I don't know what I'm doing, also I'm very sleepy so maybe it sucks, but here it is:

ghost x f!reader x soap

nsfw, +18

word count: 8.2k

cw: nsfw! lots of fluff, tiniest bit of h/c, smut in the end, unprotected sex (don't do it!); alcohol consumption, quite long descriptions of anxieties I guess; also not proofread, sorry

You enjoyed existing in the liminal space between something romantic and something purely friendly. You wanted to get to know every aspect of love, feel it from all directions, in all its forms.

You always wondered what exactly was the tipping point to make one thing turn into another. You wondered if it even existed, if experience could ever be restrained to one set type of relationship, if love could be divided into sections, named and labeled, put into existence and then put to death once things ended, instead of just being the overflowing unconditional force that you hoped it was.

In reality, of course, love can't be limited or restrained by words that aim to define, control or organize it. In practice, you've found it within yourself as something stronger, more nuanced, and freeing than you could've ever hoped it would be.

Ghost first heard Soap refer to you as his "nap buddy" over breakfast one day. He frowned, the first thought to cross his mind being whether the two of you were skipping work to take naps. But Soap went on, telling Gaz about how he'd been creeping into your bed at night when he couldn't sleep. "I feel like a baby, I swear" Ghost overheard him say "she'll just tell me stories until I fall asleep."

It all had started almost two months prior to that conversation, when you bumped into Soap in the corridor one night. You were both sleepy but suffering from insomnia. He shared little tips with you on what usually helped him: walking around, counting sheep, breath exercises; although he admitted this time none of it was working.

You explained your problem was the crippling anxiety that came with the insomnia sessions. You hated being alone with your thoughts during the dark moments of the night, which filled you with unreasonable angst.

You two walked around outside for a while. It was a cold night and you both started to shiver a bit. Soap rubbed his hand on your back in an attempt to warm you, but you concluded it was best to go back to your rooms. Then, as you approached your door, right beside his, you had an idea:

"Hey, I hope this doesn't sound too weird...but would you like to try to sleep with me?"

He smiled at you and accepted the invite.

At that moment, you navigated the perfect moment of sleepiness when rational thoughts can barely form, all that is left are the primary ideas, informed only by your senses and memories. The anxious voices of decent social conduct are far too tired to interject with your thoughts at this point. Anything can seem appropriate, nothing feels real and there is true bliss to be found somewhere.

That's why it felt so natural to curl up in bed with Soap that night, you rested your head on his shoulder and he held your hand. He caressed your hair before saying something nice about the way you smelled and closed his eyes. You surely talked for a bit, in whispers, but neither of you would be able to recall what the conversation was about if someone asked. And just like that, both of you were able to fall asleep in a few minutes of comfort.

It quickly developed into a habit for difficult nights, you now depended on these moments as if they were some kind of medicine. It surely didn't make the issue go away completely for either of you, but it sure was nice to find some comfort in each other's company. Having someone to talk to was a good distraction from your racing thoughts, it was easier to relax when you were with him. Plus, he didn't seem to mind how you jumped effortlessly from one topic to another, talking about anything that came to mind.

Soon, Soap started looking for you even before trying to fall asleep by himself, "preventive care" he explained with a smile when you'd open the door relatively early at night, looking a bit puzzled. You got into the habit of telling him stories, real and made-up, creating nice scenarios for his dreams.

You've let him kiss you a few times, but it never really went much further than that, even though it was no secret that he liked you as a bit more than a friend.

Part of the reason for your contentment with kisses was that both of you were almost always too tired to invest in more than that, but part of it was because of your resistance to changing your relationship dynamic. What you had built with him felt so stable in its tenderness that you were scared to risk losing it.

You've always felt, previously in life, that sex complicated things. Especially with men, especially when you thought they were your friends first, to later be heartbroken by the fact that they really just wanted to fuck you, and had no love to give. You really wished it would be different with him.

But Soap was well-versed in love, he wasn't scared of it. He fully embraced it, actually. Sometimes, while you played with your fingers through his hair, he'd make a point of telling you about his love, the depths of it, how much he could give you of it if you'd let him.

"But it's perfect like this" you cried, anytime he brought up the topic of sex, fearing the inevitable low after the high. Yet, to him sex was irremovable from love, it was the best way he knew how to demonstrate it.

He once told you that you made him feel like a teenager again, saying you were like his prudish high school girlfriend.

The furthest you've gone at this point was letting him finger you one night, just because he begged and whined so much. "I need to feel you" he said, out of breath from kissing you, and you just couldn't resist. It wasn't like you didn't desire him, you were scared doing it would make you want him more. And it did.

He licked his own fingers afterward, which made a moan escape from your mouth. He kissed you again before resting his head on your shoulder. Didn't ask for anything in return. Soap was a lover by definition. And the fact that he respected your boundaries made you treasure him even more.

"You know you can sleep with other people, right?" you assured him, afraid that he'd resent you if you kept him waiting.

"Yeah, but it's not the same thing" he replied.

You were on a first-name basis now, you called him Johnny and, when the two of you were alone, he called you "baby", even letting it slip in front of other people sometimes.

Ghost reprehended you for it one day when he heard it. Not Johnny, you. It was inadequate, he said, and made you apologize to him.

You thought Ghost was scary. It was in a similar manner to which you used to think your linguistics professor at University was scary: in a hot, sexy but very menacing way. You desired his approval and had the impression that you were never going to get it. His mere presence made your legs weak. Maybe it was the authority aspect that messed with your mind, or at least that's what you tried to justify to yourself.

He intimidated you more than anyone, constantly making you feel inadequate just by looking at you. It felt unfair to not even be able to see him properly most of the time, it made you feel naked in every interaction when he could see you so clearly. And on top of that, there was the constant staring: You were always under his watch if he was around as if he was constantly waiting for you to do something wrong. Plus, he seemed to be way more critical of you than he was of others, always questioning you or anything you did, and complaining about your skills or your lack of punctuality (even if you were late by just a minute).

"I think he hates me," you told Johnny one day. "I really do".

He chuckled in response. "He doesn't hate you. He's just really bad at expressing...anything"

"I think he's really good at expressing his hatred for me" you whined back "He doesn't treat you as badly".

"Well, baby, but you can't compete with me!" he smirked proudly "He loves me".

The truth is Ghost loved hearing you say "I'm sorry, sir" in a soft and exhausted voice, it tickled something inside him that he couldn't quite name. It was equally exciting and disturbing to him. But you didn't know that, which is why it caught you by surprise when he showed up at your door one night, as you were about to fall asleep.

Ghost wasn't one to sleep together, not even with the random people he had sex with on occasion. Sleep had always been a solitary activity to him, something he struggled with by himself.

The idea of having someone to sleep with, of it being such a comfort hadn't left his mind ever since he heard John talking about it at the table weeks before. He started to catch himself fantasizing about it, thinking about the warmth of having someone's body so close to him, if it'd be something to shield him from his nightmares. He started to wonder about how soft your skin must feel.

It was a foreign feeling to him, this yearning for something so intimate, but it got to a point where he just had to try it.

"Ghost?" you were confused. He wore sweatpants and a long-sleeved grey t-shirt, and still had a black balaclava on. He closed the door behind him.

"Johnny said you let him sleep with you sometimes" he cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable.

"Right" you responded, waiting for him to scold you for it. But he just stood there in silence "Would you like to sleep here too...?" you guessed amused after he let the silence hang for a bit too long.

He took a deep breath, "May I?" he asked.

"Sure, come here." you moved closer to the wall to make space for him. You couldn't help but smile as you felt him sit down on your bed, the heat coming from his body already making you want to get closer.

"You know I don't have sex with him, right?"

"I didn't come here for sex" he answered immediately, sounding almost offended, then sighed "I can't sleep''.

"OK" you said, already regretting having opened your mouth in the first place.

He laid down on his back beside you exhausted and took a deep breath. He removed his balaclava and put it on your nightstand. You noticed you were holding your breath, terrified of ruining this moment of intimacy.

"You'd better not snore" he said in a low voice, adjusting himself on your pillow with a hand behind his head and the other on his chest.

You chuckled a bit, letting yourself relax by his side. "I don't snore." you assured him "at least, not that I know of".

Ghost didn't answer you this time, and even in the dark you could see he had closed his eyes.

"Permission to touch you, sir?" you asked in a whisper after a few seconds of collecting your courage, craving to feel his skin.

That first night, he let you hold his hand while you two slept. It felt tiny and fragile on his. When he woke up sweating in the middle of the night, as he often did, his heart rate eased when he felt your presence by his side, it did feel different.

He avoided you like the plague for three days straight after that night, you thought he'd never look at you again. You thought you've done something wrong and scared him away. In reality, he was scared he'd poisoned himself by getting a taste of something so novel to him, and feared he'd become addicted to it.

He tried to go back to his regular routine, but now the emptiness of his bedroom felt even more evident, his bed felt colder. Then, when you were starting to become at peace with the anxiety that had built up in your stomach at this point, he showed up at your door again.

This time he didn't say anything after you agreed to let him in, feeling absolutely defeated. He laid on his side, his back turned to you. You asked if you could touch him once more and when he agreed you threw your arm around his torso, cuddling him. He felt a goosebump as your breath touched his back.

And he wouldn't tell you, but when he woke up he couldn't remember the last time he'd had such a good night of sleep.

You told Johnny about it the next day as casually as possible, fearing to find a trace of jealousy in his eyes. But instead, they seemed to brighten with delight. "See, I told you he didn't hate you" he smiled.

For the next few weeks, your lieutenant started being kinder to you, albeit in his own way. He stopped reprehending you for stupid reasons, gave you a little pat on the back when you did well during training, and even made you a cup of tea once when he heard Gaz comment that you had a cold one day, putting it in front of you at the table and walking away without saying a word.

You discovered him to be someone more playful than you previously imagined, witty even. The affection you had for him grew stronger with each passing day, as your impression of him morphed into something new, and you just couldn't keep it to yourself. But, unlike Johnny, who loved being touched, Ghost had serious boundaries. Most times you could tell you'd overstepped. He'd let you know it immediately: removing your hand from his face if you touched it, clearly stating "don't" if you ever dared to try to touch his hair, he'd move his hand away when you started to mindlessly draw circles on it with your fingers, and - the only aspect that didn't make you feel completely rejected - pushing you away slightly in bed if you ever got close enough to feel the solid volume in his pants.

For him, physical touch tended to be a utilitarian exchange: maybe he'd get a pat on the shoulder for doing a good job, he'd get kisses and caresses when someone used him for sex, he'd get injured during combat, but your touch was something new: it made no practical sense, there was no transaction to be made, no endpoint, it was just affection for the sake of affection. He didn't know what to do with it.

As your intimacy deepened, Ghost revealed to you that suffered from terrible migraines every once in a while and got into the habit of coming to sleep with you on those days, although he did complain every single time that your constant rambling on different topics made his head hurt even more. He'd retract the statement as soon as you stopped talking though.

One day, when he was in a particularly terrible mood, you offered him a massage. "What good will that do, huh?" he grunted "You just want to touch me"

You chuckled "well, that is partially true, sir" and he smiled behind his balaclava. But you insisted, proceeding to explain how the tension on his neck muscles could be causing the headaches, or at least making them worse, and that was enough to convince him to let you do it.

"It doesn't work if you don't try to relax" you said, pressing your fingers to the base of his neck. You were sitting on the bed, back rested on your pillow, with him between your legs, his back turned to you.

"I'm trying" he mumbled.

"Come on, deep breaths," you said, and you knew immediately that he was probably rolling his eyes. "Come on" you insisted patiently, massaging just the right spot on the back of his shoulders as he let out a low moan, letting his head rest forward.

"See, isn't it better?" you said enthusiastically.

"Stop talking" he grunted, which you did, continuing to massage him in silence.

It took you by surprise when you felt his thumb lightly caress your right ankle, it was a timid touch, and you felt afraid he would stop if you moved, even though that leg felt a bit numb already.

You could feel his body melt under your touch bit by bit, letting more of his weight rest on you. He forgot about his headache, only focused on the delicious slumber that took over his body now.

"You're gonna have to do this every day now" he muttered, eyes closed.

"I'll gladly do it" you assured him, treasuring the way he seemed so relaxed now. You had to fight the urge to put a kiss on his neck with all your might.

That night he held you like a pillow, resting his head on your stomach. You slowly pulled his mask up, waiting to see if there'd be any resistance, but there wasn't.

He shivered when you then touched his hair. It felt soft. You scratched his head gently with your nails and he savoured the foreign feeling that it caused.

"You little demon" he whispered, surrendering completely to your touch.

Ghost knew what love was supposed to look like. He just wasn't that sure about how it felt to receive it anymore. The more he thought about it, the more he was under the impression that he lacked the vocabulary to express it.

Once, when working in complete silence next to him, filling and writing reports, you asked:

"Can you take a look at this, sir?" you held the paper in front of him.

"You know you can call me Simon" he said, eyes still fixed on his papers.

"I didn't actually." you said and he looked at you, you could notice a quick smile appear on his eyes.

"Ok, now you know."

You smiled and he moved his gaze back to the papers in front of him.

"Can you take a look at this, Simon?" you repeated, and this time he looked up and happily took the paper from your hand.

Simon had never really tried anything besides actual sleep with you, and you were terrified of initiating it yourself and getting rejected. But sometimes you could feel the imminence of something, nothing clear or distinct, just the way the silence of the room felt different, a change in the pace of his breathing or a slight shift in the atmosphere. On these moments you'd feel like he could turn you over and fuck you at any second. It fed the anticipation in your chest, but it never happened.

You wondered, at times, if you were somehow able to read his thoughts in cryptic ways and that's how you'd know he was thinking about fucking you.

"What are you thinking about?" you asked in a whisper one of these nights.

"Why do you care?" his response was immediate, defensive. Your fantasies definitely weren't supported by his lack of attention to your romantic attempts.

"Just wondering" you shrugged. "Are you not going to tell me?"

He looked at you, and even in the dark you could tell he was smiling "No".

You prayed that he would kiss you, just a little bit would be enough. But, of course, he didn't.

"I was thinking about you, in case you were wondering," you said casually a few moments later, gazing at his face. You were getting sloppier with hiding your feelings for him, he couldn't possibly not see it.

He chuckled quietly at your response, "Stop flirting with me" he said and you felt your cheeks turn red, "you should get some sleep" he suggested then, shutting off the conversation. And, as if he intended to get you a bit more confused, he lightly caressed your hair.

Sometimes you'd wish he'd just reject you once and for all so you could move on. But the more you thought about your love the more you wanted to cultivate it and share it with him, the same way you felt you could share with Johnny. And if Simon didn't want it, so be it. It felt like, and it was, a big act of bravery on your part. At least you'd be able to comfort yourself on the fact that you loved, it grew and flourished inside you, and it was a beautiful thing.

It got to the point where one of them was occupying your bed almost every day of the week, people were starting to catch on to it. You knew the day would come when they'd both show up and the thought alone made you nauseous, at least until it actually happened.

You held your breath when you heard Johnny's steps approaching your door, even before he knocked on it.

"Come in" Simon said before you could even react.

Johnny tilted his head for a second, looking amused at the scene of his lieutenant cuddling you. He closed the door behind him and took off his slippers, then he approached your bed to lay down beside you.

You held your breath when you saw Johnny rest his neck on Simon's extended arm so nonchalantly. Simon didn't move his arm. You couldn't exactly name what is it that you feared at that moment, the next few moments of silence translated into nervousness within you. Johnny took your arm and casually put your hand on his chest.

"So," he said, looking at Simon playfully "Are you trying to steal her from me?"

Simon chuckled "Didn't know she was yours to steal".

The tension you felt was not shared between them.

"You could've come to sleep with me, lieutenant," Johnny said, he sounded almost offended that Simon would have preferred to sleep with you.

"Back at you, Johnny" he murmured, closing his eyes, making Johnny smile from ear to ear.

You knew your bed surely wasn't made for three, but you managed to make it comfortable. You woke up lying on top of Johnny like a baby, your chest to his, while Simon laid on his side with one arm thrown around you.

That night, Johnny could almost feel his heart flutter and twirl inside his chest. It was perfect. He had so much love to give, he couldn't wait to share it. To him, Love was generous and ever-giving, it was infinite, it overpowered him and he gladly let it.

To Simon, on the other hand, Love was a terrifying force he feared would take over him completely if he let it. He feared it could destroy him, or, even worse, he would destroy it. But, at moments like this one, he couldn't help but let love overflow in his heart, couldn't resist the warmth both of you shared from entering his own body.

Throughout the whole following day, you felt a sweet anticipation for something in your stomach, being only able to think about how nice it had felt to be surrounded by both of them. How you wished you could stay in that state forever, unmoved.

At night, Johnny curled up in bed with you, resting his head on your chest after a tiring day. He seemed almost disappointed to find you alone when he came in, he smiled while he kissed you nonetheless.

He inundated you with questions that gradually turned into whines: did you sleep with him? what do you mean you don't even kiss? what are you doing? don't you find him attractive? why don't you just ask him? do you think we should go after him? why not? let's knock on his door! why not?!

You were able to dissuade him from these impulsive thoughts eventually, stroking your fingers through his hair and recommending that he do the same as you and try to stop thinking about it. It was for the best, you assured him, trying to convince yourself of it, too. He yielded at last, but he wasn't pleased.

"Do you even want me?" he asked with a sigh

"Of course I do." you replied, almost offended at the question "You know I do."

"Doesn't feel like it sometimes" he muttered.

You took a deep breath before taking him through your typical monologue, practically memorized at this point, on your reasons for keeping things as they were - no sex - would be better. The more you talked, the less you found yourself believing in your own words. Still, you tried to make him care for the utter shape of your relationship as it was, in an eternal transient state of a romantic friendship that never lost itself. "That sounds terrible, bonnie" he said, but you insisted he just didn't understand.

"I'm sensitive, Johnny." you tried to explain yourself "I can't stand the thought of ruining what we have."

"Seems like you can't stand the thought of improving them" he sighed.

You knew he had been sleeping with other people, and the thought soothed you more than anything. He never lied to you about it when you asked, and it was comforting to see his heart still belonged to you. You tried to imagine yourself as something separate entirely.

He traced his fingers down to your waist, then hips, and back to your shoulders, letting his hand linger on your breast.

"Don't you want it, baby? Not even a little bit?"

"I do, Johnny" you admitted, not immune to the desire that kept itself alive inside you.

"Haven't you been dreaming about it...?" he continued, his voice lower than before as his fingers played with your hair "Huh? You, me and Simon?"

Your eyes widened at his words, even though you had, in fact, been thinking about it constantly ever since the first night that Simon slept with you.

"That would be a mess" you murmured, telling him what you kept telling yourself.

Johnny chuckled, "a hot, delicious fucking mess?" he suggested.

"Just a regular mess" you lied.

"Just think about it, alright?" he eventually said, resting his head back on your chest.

"Okay." you promised before turning off the light on your nightstand..

"I love you, baby. Truly." he whispered in the dark "There's nothing for you to be afraid of."

"I love you too, Johnny"

Part of you knew it was a silly decision to insist on depriving yourself of pleasure, things were already messy enough. There was no saving any naivety of a friendship that hadn't been merely a friendship from the start, and refusing to admit that you did, in fact, have physical desires toward them was, perhaps, just making things worse. You made a mental note to search for a therapist when you got back home, perhaps dig into whatever religious guilt you seemed to have inherited to drive your decisions.

Nevertheless, you were able to remain firm in your decision. At least until two days later, when everyone went out for drinks at night after a long day.

The sky was dark grey when you left the base to go to the bar. The space was crowded, but comfortable. You knew almost everyone there and quickly settled with some friends.

After one and a half beers Johnny was already getting touchy with you by the counter.

"Have you thought about what I said?"

You nodded and he got closer to you, hands on your waist, "And will you let me make love to you?" he asked softly in your ear.

"Maybe I will" you confessed, already feeling a bit tipsy.

"Come on, bonnie" he insisted, hands on your waist "You know I've been dying to fuck you."

You felt as if your legs would melt right then and there. And, even with your back turned to him, you felt Simon's oppressive stare on you. You turned to find him across the bar.

You both looked at him, sitting at the table next to Price, who seemed to be talking to him, even though his attention laid somewhere else. His hair was covered by a black hoodie, but he didn't cover his face. He grinned at you playfully, taking a sip of the cold beer in his hand.

Johnny followed your gaze and smirked at Simon, then looked back at you with a devilish smile. "I'm gonna get Ghost to come with me" he said and you froze in place.

"I don't think that's a good idea," you plead, already feeling the palms of your hands sweat. What is it exactly that you feared? You didn't really know. It felt childish to be this scared of your own desires.

"I think he's into it" Johnny said, winking at you.

"I don't think so." you grew a bit nervous "I don't think he wants me like that"

Johnny just chuckled in response. "Sure" he said sarcastically. "I can't believe you think that's possible, baby".

You looked around the room nervously, the idea made your stomach turn.

"Tell me you don't want it." he said, suddenly looking at you with a serious expression "Just tell me you don't want it and I won't say anything to him. I'll drop it."

But you couldn't say anything, which made him smile before taking another sip of his beer. Johnny pecked a kiss on your cheek, before leaving you to sit at the table beside Simon.

Although you couldn't pinpoint what exactly caused you so much anxiety, you did notice that it mixed into a twisted excitement.

You watched as they interacted with each other, leaning closer to talk, smiling, and laughing lightly. They looked so pretty you couldn't believe such a dreamy scenario would become a reality to you. Johnny touched Simon's arm and whispered something to him, he grinned and looked at you.

You tried to pretend you hadn't been staring at him the whole time, suddenly feeling a lot of interest in the bottle in your hand and then the conversation that took place between the colleagues beside you.

You tried to distract yourself the rest of the night, interacting with other people and trying your best to focus on different subjects, other people's lives and problems, it was very hard considering that yours seemed to be about to become so much more exciting than anything your friends had been up to.

Johnny didn't seem to want to leave Simon's side anymore, they were engaged in conversation with Price and Gaz at the table on the corner of the bar for what felt like hours to you.

It was pouring rain outside by the time you gave yourself a little tipsy pep talk in the dirty restroom mirror. You told yourself you looked attractive enough, beautiful even. Nothing to worry about.

When you came back, you were so immersed in your own thoughts that you didn't even notice when Simon sat on the barstool beside you.

"What are you thinking about?" you heard his low voice behind you.

You turned around to look at him, feeling blood rush to your cheeks "Didn't see you there"

"Are you not going to tell me?" he repeated your words from the other night with a playful smirk, to which you frowned. He leaned a little closer to you to whisper in a high-pitched voice "I'm thinking about you".

"I don't sound like that"

"Yes, you do" he chuckled.

You took a deep breath before answering, echoing his own words back to him: "Well, you should stop flirting with me"

"I don't think you want me to stop" he grinned, and you wished you knew exactly what Johnny had said to him. "Do you?"

"No," you said frankly "no, I don't."

It was almost 2am when Johnny pointed his head to the door, signaling it was time to leave. Simon was already outside, and you were already soaking wet even before you left the covered environment of the bar.

You thought your heart was trying to jump out of your chest when Simon opened his bedroom door later that night, and felt both of the men you loved follow you inside.

You closed your eyes when you felt both of Simon's hands hold you by the shoulders from behind, as he got closer to you "are you OK, love?" he asked against your neck, the softest you've heard him speak, with the remains of alcohol on his breath. He placed a kiss on your shoulder and you rested your head against his chest.

You nodded, your body burning in anticipation. "Will you guys stop if I don't feel well?" you asked, your voice was almost a whisper.

The anxiety about the implications and consequences of this was already set on your chest. Now there was nothing else to do, no escaping the disturbance this would cause to your life. At this point, stopping would be much worse. Your desires had already manifested, they had been spoken, and transformed, there was nothing left to do but give in to it.

The violent rumbles of lightning bolts shook the sky outside, and sudden flashes of light illuminated the room at an unpredictable frequency. Your eyes had adjusted to the dim light of the room, and the darkness felt comforting, providing an atmosphere of otherworldliness to the room, you could almost imagine this scene took place in a different reality and try not to worry about it.

"Of course" Johnny answered and Simon nodded with his face on your neck.

Johnny kissed you first while Simon held you, his familiar lips searching urgently for you in the dark. You had one hand on his neck, while the other held tight to Simon's, afraid to lose his touch. Johnny looked at him with a smile before grabbing you by the waist and turning you around so that you faced Simon.

"What do you want me to do to you?" Simon asked, looking deep into your eyes, his tone was soft, the question genuine.

“Will you please kiss me?” you cried.

He took your hands in his and kissed them, the small sounds of his kisses covering your fingers and wrists. Then, finally, he leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. You felt your heart could explode at any second. You cupped his face with both hands and caressed his skin.

The kiss was soft at first, almost hesitant. His tongue was warm and smooth on yours and he tasted like beer and cigarettes.

You heard when Johnny unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants behind you, grabbing and pulling your hips so you could feel the volume in his underwear, you moaned into Simon's mouth.

Johnny left wet kisses on your neck, making you shiver as he pulled up your t-shirt. Simon cupped your breasts in his hands as soon as he saw them, quickly struggling to free them from your bra, peppering kisses on your chest and nipples.

Simon kneeled in front of you and pulled your pants down, helping you remove your shoes along with them, then smiling at you before kissing over your panties.

You rested your head on Johnny's chest and trusted that his strong grip on your waist would be enough to keep you in place because you barely made any effort to stand anymore.

You hummed when Simon's tongue first touched you, drawing small circles around your clit. Johnny groaned in your ear, pressing his hips against yours, he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this horny in his life. His hands danced around your body until, feeling very bold from the alcohol, he moved one of his hands down to stroke Simon's hair.

"tastes so good, doesn't she?' he asked, to which Simon nodded, burying his face deeper between your thighs.

Your mind seemed to finally quiet, you wouldn't be able to form a coherent thought if you tried now. You could feel Simon's desire to devour you.

He slipped a finger inside you, moaning back when you did. He moved his lips back to your clit, sucking it with just enough intensity to make your legs tremble. And, as if he knew, just as you were about to come undone on his touch, Simon stopped, standing up again to kiss you, you whined in protest against his lips, but it was useless.

They exchanged glances and Johnny wet his own lips.

"Let me see you ride him, love" Simon whispered in your ear, eyes fixed to his. And you obeyed.

Johnny quickly removed the rest of his own clothes and lead you to Simon's bed by your hand.

He laid down, but you stood there looking at his body for a moment. He looked so beautiful lying naked in front of you, the low light that came from the window was only enough to highlight the contrast of his features. You couldn't believe you had actually been this stupid to deny yourself from him for so long. You bit your own lip at the sight, his eyes brightened with passion. "Go on" Simon encouraged behind you.

You spread kisses to his chest before sitting on him. You tried to do it slowly, making him roll his eyes back, getting used to the size of it little by little. You both gasped with pleasure when you finally took him in completely.

“You’re so tight, baby” he groaned when you started to move.

You could hear Simon ditching his own clothes somewhere behind you. Then you felt him behind you, one of his big hands gently holding your waist. Simon used his other hand to put one finger in your mouth and you sucked on it, making Johnny audibly moan under you.

You froze immediately when you felt his naked body touch yours, his hardened cock poked the skin of your lower back.

"Relax, I won't do anything you don't want" he assured you in a low voice against your neck. You received wet kisses on your back and shoulders.

Johnny moaned, his fingers tracing your thighs "Feels so good like that" he purred, and you nodded in agreement. He grabbed your hips but Simon quickly slapped his hands away.

Johnny blinked, confused, but then smirked when Simon started to guide your movements by the hips, slowly and gradually changing the speed to fit what you seemed to respond better to. He guided your body on Johnny in a way that made his cock touch you precisely in the right places. You barely had to do any work, so you rested your head on Simon's chest, only opening your eyes to watch Johnny's face under you.

Johnny rubbed his thumb softly on your clit, making very small movements around it. You moved accordingly, enjoying the way the pressure created a response deep within your stomach. You panted on top of him, exhausted but eager to continue, your body guiding you toward release.

The obscene sounds you made were thankfully muffled by the heavy rain outside. You felt your orgasm reach you with the growing rumbles in the sky, which eventually resulted in a violent lightning, not that far from the window. You let your body rest on Simon's chest after the wave of pleasure washed over you.

"You did so good, bonnie" Johnny sat up to kiss your face, and laid back down.

Simon pulled your hips back gently, indicating you should stand on your knees. Intuitively, you positioned yourself so that you could put your lips around Johnny's cock. He closed your eyes when you did.

"Look at her, Johnny" Simon ordered.

He held your hips firmly in place, then pressed into you slowly, savoring how the wet heat between your legs welcomed him.

Johnny had his head resting on one of his arms, his free hand lazily stroking your face as he watched you struggle to fit him in your mouth. He tried his best to be obedient and focus only on you, but his eyes kept looking up curiously, dying to watch Simon's face as he fucked you.

"God, you feel so fucking good" he whimpered before he started moving his hips, filling you completely with every thrust. You could feel his length messing up your insides and you were grateful to have Johnny's cock keeping you silent.

Simon traced his fingers down your spine, around your waist, then back to your neck. He gently stroked your head and grabbed your hair. You thought he'd pull it, but Simon just pressed the back of your head deeper on Johnny's cock, pulling you back when you gagged, then repeating the same movement again and again. Johnny closed his eyes in an effort not to come so soon from the view alone.

You gave up on your own body for a moment, forgot it was yours to control in the first place, letting it be taken by all their movements like one gets taken by the current at sea.

"'m gonna cum if you keep this up" Johnny announced in a low voice, and you weren't sure if he was talking to you or Simon, but the latter let go of his grip on your hair, unsure of what you wanted to do with that information. You kept going on your own now, until you felt Johnny pulse inside your mouth.

He let out a soft moan as he watched you swallow it. His body finally relaxed on the bed and you felt his fingers search your head and caress your hair.

Simon's movements became slower, almost nonexistent, and you anxiously moved your hips against him to alleviate the desire in your core.

"Don't stop" you begged in a small voice, resting your head on Johnny's thigh, but he did stop. Simon gently pulled your hips back and switched your body so that you were facing him.

"Lay down" he instructed, "I wanna see you".

Johnny's arms guided you to lay on top of him, your back to his chest. He kissed and caressed your head lazily while Simon spread your legs, sinking into you with a grunt.

You moaned loudly when you felt him entirely inside you again.

“Shh!” both of them reprehended you, and Johnny quickly covered your mouth with his hand.

"You wanted him to fuck you like this, huh?" he asked close to your ear and you nodded, unable to speak anything other than little moans that were muffled by his palm. Simon looked at you directly in the eyes, his face subtly contorting in pleasure with every little sound you made.

He pushed into you slowly, delighting himself in the warmth of having you wrapped around him. He tried to memorize the feeling of having your skin against his so he could dwell on it later.

Johnny uncovered your mouth to kiss you, moving his hand to hold you at your waist. The familiar feel of his tongue was both comforting and exciting, your lips searched for his with noticeable hunger. You didn't think you could possibly get more aroused at this point.

You rested your head on Johnny's shoulder, closing your eyes and feeling your body relax now that you've gotten more used to Simon's size inside you.

"Eyes open, love" Simon demanded, and you obeyed.

He kept his gaze on your eyes until he couldn't resist moving on to Johnny's anymore. They looked at each other for what felt like too long, Simon's thrusts into you got more intense, and it made you wonder if you were simply the vessel through which they fucked each other at that instant.

Johnny, who had his hands wandering around your body, now moved them from your breasts to caress Simon's chest on top of you, at first in shy quasi-accidental strokes, and then shamelessly grabbing at his waist, scratching nails on his back once he got a positive reaction.

He pressed his hand against the lower part of your stomach, right where you could feel Simon's cock attempting to tear you open with every thrust, you moaned into Simon's mouth as you felt Johnny getting hard under your body again. Your arousal was dripping down his crotch, his chest already wet from your sweat.

"Hm you're taking him so well, baby" Johnny whispered in your ear and you watched as Simon's eyes darkened at the sound of the words.

You’d lost track of time and sense of space completely. It was so unbelievably indulgent it almost felt wrong, as if you couldn't possibly be allowed to experience this much pleasure all at once in life.

You felt you’d reached some new sense of consciousness in which you did not belong to your body anymore, you've transcended into something else, something in complete harmony with them and their own bodies around you. You were certain for a moment that, if you tried or wanted to, you'd be able to read their minds and communicate without words.

The utter feeling of Love just invaded you in the form of radiating happiness, an epiphany planted in your heart, as if you had been stung by Eros himself and you felt yourself capable of reaching an orgasm without your body. All of a sudden the whole universe seemed to become clear and there were no questions you couldn't answer if you wanted, any doubt you had was gone, and any anxiety dissipated. You almost felt like laughing, relishing - for what was probably the first time - in the wonder of cloudless thoughts.

Simon dropped the support of his hands to his forearms, getting impossibly closer and resting his torso on top of you, the cold and metallic touch of his dog tags against your chest sent a shiver down your spine. Johnny’s hands moved from his waist to your hips, grinding you on top of his hardened cock in search of some relief, which was positioned between your ass cheeks.

You drunkenly intercalated kisses between the two of them, feeling absolutely in control until Simon locked your neck in place with his hand, choking you a little before placing a soft kiss on your lips. “Open” he demanded and you did.

He spit saliva into your mouth and, before you could swallow it, Johnny urgently pulled your face to kiss you, desperately licking your tongue.

"Fuck, Johnny" Simon grunted, digging even deeper into you, attempting to get even closer, making your toes curl. He leaned over and kissed Johnny, and you felt him instantly melt under you. His hands left your body to cup Simon's face.

They moaned into their kisses. You almost felt inadequate being there, as if you weren't supposed to witness that much intimacy, but the thought quickly died down when Simon's lips found yours again, leaving Johnny breathless, and he sealed you back into their little universe.

Your back arched when Johnny moved his fingers to your clit again, you barely needed any stimulation at this point, your legs were tense locked around Simon's hips.

"Come on, baby" Johnny purred in your ear "Let me see you cum all over his cock".

Almost as if on command, you did. The high building up in your lower stomach finally reached its breaking point and crashed into your body in waves of ecstasy. Simon moaned as he felt your entire body pulse and relax under him, he jerked faster into you and then quickly pulled out.

Johnny moved you away from him so that your back rested on the mattress with both of them towering over you, stroking themselves. Simon's eyes rolled back as he came on top of you, a heavy moan leaving his throat as he covered you with the warm gooey liquid that dripped from him.

The sheer sight of it, along with your little moans, was almost enough to get Johnny off immediately, and it only took a few strokes to make him cum again.

You watched them as Simon gently cleaned a bit of his own semen off of Johnny's abdomen with his thumb. He brought the finger close to his face in an offer, and Johnny obediently opened his mouth and sucked it off, receiving a pat on his head and a satisfied smile from his superior afterward.

You laid there exhausted while they cleaned you with tissues, getting little gentle kisses on your skin every once in a while. Simon turned you around on the bed and wiped a soft tissue on your face, removing the remains of mascara you had under your eyes.

It took you a few minutes to eventually get up and use the bathroom, Simon had one all to himself, which meant you didn't have to put your clothes back on.

When you came back, they were both still naked on the bed. Johnny was already asleep, a permanent smile stamped on his face, being only partially covered by the sheets.

"Come here" Simon whispered to you, and you gently climbed over Johnny's body to rest in the space between them.

Johnny sleepily arranged his arms around you, one over your waist and the other under the crease of your neck, his fingers reaching to caress Simon's hair.

Simon kissed your forehead. "This feels nice" he murmured, almost too quietly for you to hear. You looked up to kiss his lips again and rested your head on the pillow, wishing you wouldn't have to get up the next morning.

(now that this is out of my system I can finally move on with my life).

[lemmetreatya]

In Memory of Me — Eren x fem!reader

Thank you @flamespond for the idea. A real one tbh. Always know ur gonna match my silliness

word count: 2.7k

content: erens a cocky bastard, f! reader, reader has their ears pierced, alcohol, strong language, anal sex, doggy style, unprotected sex, cumshot, idk eren has an obsession with worm earrings (is it a kink for him? idk)

They were so fucking stupid. Like, stupid, stupid.

So stupid, that Eren finds himself with a soured expression as he looks on at you over the rim of his drink. Because honestly, who even wears something like that to the club? Frickin, worm earrings — those frilly skrunkly looking fellas with the strabismus eyes and wiggly bums.

And he thinks he hates them, which isn’t new because Eren hated a lot of things unprovoked, (Read: paper mache, manholes, Jimmy John’s, character shaped plastic weed grinders and more) but either way, he can’t get himself to hate you — which sucks — because you thought wearing worm earrings to the club was cool.

The skittish laugh you made in the bartender’s direction was no help either. He hates to admit it but you were so good looking, and Eren wishes that you weren’t.

He thinks maybe that way it’d be easier to ignore you with your funky jewellery and move on with his night, but no. No, Eren always had to find a pulling towards the weird ones.

“It’s definitely a creative choice.”

That’s what Eren starts with when he decides to indulge you.

You pause mid-conversation and turn in his direction. The music was cheap and the booze was even cheaper, but giving just about anybody your time of day was expensive.

“Sorry, you talking to me?”

An easy shrug graces Eren’s shoulders as he hops them up and down. You had a daring spunk and he likes that more about you than he hates the worm earrings.

With a coupled bite of his bottom lip and a simmering eye hold, the brunette moves closer within your proxemics.

“Well, I mean unless there’s anyone else wearing obnoxious worm earrings then…”

“Obnoxious?” You repeat.

Eren was fast to agree with your reiterated sentence but it was too late when he realises, along with your irked expression, that maybe using his internal opinions about your consciously chosen earrings for a conversation starter, was warped.

Instantly changing his countenance, Eren reels his expression into a fake pout of remorse. This one usually sealed the deal because Eren seemed to have a very ‘I want to forgive you’ face, or so he’s been told .

“I-I’m sorry. I acknowledge that was real rude of me. Forgive me, I don’t do this often.” He says with a hand over the right side of his chest.

That’s a lie; Eren does this often enough to know that a sleazy apology usually does the trick, but apparently it didn’t land too well tonight.

Your eyes analyse him top to bottom. He’s cute, hot even. That, you won’t deny, but before else you had your integrity to hold. With a curled lipped expression, you slowly turn your head away from the brunette.

“Well, when you do this often enough and figure out how to approach me properly, come again.”

Ohh, shivers.

Eren weirdly liked that. From that alone he knows he wants more and that’s not just because his dick jumped at the assertiveness.

At this point, Eren would decide that his pride and ego were too important to be bruised by a mere Club Pickup and so he’d usually throw a very unfeminist, degrading comment and go along his way. But fuck, it’s you with the stupid worm earrings and heck load of self worth — there’s something about you that makes Eren voluntarily deny himself.

“Don’t think I’m willing to wait that long.”

At his words, you direct back in Eren’s direction with a slow turn. Half of you was surprised that he was still within your vicinity but the other part was intrigued to know what was really making him stay.

“For what?” You slowly enunciate.

Eren gives you a look as if what he was saying was simple. Which it was, but there was just something about the man that made everything he said come out sounding imbecilic.

“To figure out how to approach you of course. I can’t do it with calculations or a trial and error. Look at your earrings for shit's sake, you’re unpredictable.”

The brunette wildly gestures in your vague direction. You also notice a tattoo that curiously peaks out from his neck.

Hm. Hot.

Turning towards him more, you wear an amused expression as you ask:

“And so the approach you’ve gone for now — you think that’s working for you?”

It shuts him down for a bit.

You can see the clogs working slowly behind his wide beryl eyes. Even within the darkened club scene, that feature of his was wildly prominent.

But he’s quick though. He rolled said eyes, as if to feign that the answer was obvious, but you couldn’t help but notice the elysian grin that started to sport his lips.

“Right now, we’re taking ten.” He shrugs. “I’m not tryna pick you up at the moment. Well, I am, but not in the forward, proactive way. I just… they’re so fascinating.”

“Me or the earrings?”

Eren smirks.

“The earrings.”

He knows that’s not the answer you were expecting. It was the answer you knew he was leading to but you hoped that by some warped pick up line, he’d divert his answer to you at the last second. But he didn’t.

You let out a delayed huffed at his honest answer and he knows, then, that he’s got you.

This guy was absolutely tactless. You recall that he said he was thinking of a unique way to approach you, per your unconventionality, but you didn’t think he’d be this push and pull.

Still yet, in a very weird, sadly obnoxious way, it was working. So much so that you’re not sure whether to credit him for his stupidity or ingenuity.

Lightly pressing forwards, Eren made a bold move and decided to poke your arm with his index finger.

“C’mon, I’m not being that unreasonable. They’re unusual for a club setting and you know it. I’ve only ever seen someone wear these once in my life and that was on my boy’s kid cousin’s ears because she gave into peer pressure.”

With a humorous air, you raise your eyebrow at the brunette.

“You think I gave into peer pressure to wear these?”

“Nah, I doubt it.”

Eren seemed to really be thinking hard about this. He searched his eyes over your face, irreligious as his watch lingered over your lips.

“I’d say the next best thing is a dare. Most probably a stupid harmless one between friends, but now that I’m thinking about it, you wear them with too much dignity for it to simply be bad luck.”

Cocking your head to the side, you shuffle closer towards the brunette. You offered him a mulling smile.

“Is it really too hard to believe that I wore them of my own volition?”

Eren reels his head back but he doesn’t stay further away for long. He easily nods before edging closer in your direction. He has an unsure look on his face but he decides to be honest.

“Kinda, yes.” He says with a lower voice.

You weren’t offended. No, you were beyond feeling shameful affinity for worm earrings, but you guess in order to entertain this intrigued individual, you’d pertain to his supposed interest.

“So what, you want my earrings? Tryna fuck them or use them to get off?” You quip. “You can have ‘em if you wannem so bad.”

Eren makes a weirded out expression but he doesn’t move away. Something about him made you keen in his direction. Maybe it was how comfortable he seemed.

“What? Noooo, I don’t wanna fuck your earrings, I’m tryna fuck you! Only reason I stepped up to you in the first place.” He pouts.

You raised your eyebrows at him once again but this time it was accompanied with a smirk. Once he noticed your reception, he quickly returned your expression before continuing, his fingers tinkling at your own.

“Don’t get me wrong, you’re hot as fuck and I’m honestly reeling just thinking about having you underneath me. Only thing is that you just happen to be wearing the most…”

Eren quickly lets his words die at the back of his throat. If it’s one thing he’s learnt tonight, it was to not finish that sentence.

“Yeah.” He finishes.

Your turn your head so that you can side eye him. Jutting out your bottom lip, you thought for a moment.

“So you’re tryna sleep with me?” You said more to yourself than to him but the sentient was as easily reciprocated by him.

Eren flings his head back in a childish manner. Amusing, as he seems more offended at that question than he did when you offered him worm earrings coitus.

“God—I—" He clasps his hands in a fist in front of his face. "What else do you think I’m talking to you for? I’m literally just tryna give you that fuck-you-to-sleep, forget your name type dick, is that really too much to ask for?

You momentarily pause as you look upwards in faux ponder.

“Is that it?" You ask.

Eren nods.

With a neutral expression, your shoulders perk upwards.

"Oh. Then you should have just said.”

“Waaait a minute.”

The way Eren slowly squints his eyes at you makes you snort and then burst into a fit of public appropriate giggles.

He was genuinely such an interesting individual. You did wonder if he was actually this amusing or if he was simply curating his personality so that he could talk to you better. Either way you weren't too concerned; more than him, you too were just seeing this as an opportunity to get fucked silly.

Eren's eyes joyfully follow you as you continue to bend over in laughter, his own lips quirking upwards at the sides.

“It was that easy, huh?” He jokes in disbelief.

“It was that easy. Didn’t have to mention my earrings or nothing.” You quip back, the glowing embers of joy and alcohol evident in the beam on your face.

Eren cocks his head in your direction, his smile also wide. Although you never remember him being this close. He was practically a hand span away from you.

“Well, whaddya know? Looks like I’ve still got it.”

Playfully scoffing, you lightly push his stomach with the palm of your hand. You noted that it was a lot more taut with muscle than you thought it'd be.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” You chide as you finally allow your eyes to wonder to the plumpness of his lips.

This was so fucking stupid. Like, stupid, stupid.

Because never in your life did you think a self conceited bastard like Eren would ever fuck this good.

You hated that he knew what he was doing; that he didn't need twenty-one plus questions to figure out your reactive spots, guilty pleasures and favourite positions. He was an expert, a god, at how well he knew how to put his dick into play.

"Gonna...gonna, shit, gonna fuck those silly worm earrings right off you. Gonna really...rock your shit up."

You were way too gone to reply.

Ass up, face down and cock continuously hollowing deep into the canals of your ass, yet Eren still found a way to make this about the worm earrings. You even contemplated taking them off considering how viciously they were whacking your face but you didn't care. Who the fuck was caring about worm earrings when you were getting fucked this good?

Clearly, Eren couldn't relate.

"S-stupid worms...stupid fucking silly worms — God, you're so tight — they're so weird!"

Your orgasm still had space to build up but you wanted to reach it quickly. Lolling your hand down between your thighs, you used two fingers to rub at your clit; to give your tea a little bit of honey, just to speed up the process.

"E-Eren..." You moaned out.

Hearing his name be chanted into his duvet, Eren felt his cock twitch.

"Yeah, that's it. Say my name. Say my name with those...with those worms in your ears. Go on, say it."

"Eren! Eren! E’en."

Your chants caused the male to throw his head bag in agonic pleasure. His grip on your hips got tighter as he used the leverage to continuously pull you back onto his slick cock.

"Just like that. Oh yeah, just like that. You feel so good. So so good, worms 'n' all."

Okay, quite frankly, this was getting ridiculous. Surely he couldn't be for real. Like, you've gathered; he likes to be the centre of attention and has difficulty doing that without a joke, laugh or gag, but surely yet, he'd understand that somethings you just kept separate from each other. Like wriggly worm earrings and getting doggied.

Surging backwards to try and meet Eren's thrust made the brunette let out a groan of pure wanton expression. He took one hand to slap the apple of your ass cheek a few times before hunching over you, his chest flush with your back.

“Want me to come inside you?” He salaciously grunts into your ear.

With an indecent moan, you agree.

“Uh huh. Yeah, wan’ you to…to cum inside me, Ren.”

The brunette placed a kiss to your back and then your shoulder as his cock continuously expanded your puckered hole. He then gingerly changed position from kneeling to having one foot sturdy on the bed before bringing a hand up to caress at one of your earrings.

“Since you asked so nicely.”

Eren’s pace began to quicken but his thrust became sloppier.

You were seriously contemplating whether it was okay to finish this orgasm with worms on your mind or pause and ask Eren to behave, but his next words made you think elsewise.

“Every time you wear these earrings, I want you to be reminded of how good it feels to have my hot cum filling up your asshole. How… shit, how well you take my cock, how stupidly wet your pussy is for me.”

The brunette licked a stripe just behind your earlobe before grinning into your skin.

“Whenever you look at these stupid worms, I want you to feel the urge to hollow your asshole out in memory of me — knowing nothing will be as good as me.”

Like a fizz of electricity, adrenaline surged from every part of your body and focused right within the heart of your cunt. With an explosive cry, your orgasm ripped through your body, your legs wanting to involuntarily close shut.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Eren shoves a few more thrusts into you before he’s stilling flush to your back and spilling warm seed into your ass.

You’re still reeling through your orgasm when he cums, his semen lightly tickling that one gooey spot up your ass. The act causes you to keen — a pretty moan squeezing from your throat as your mouth lays slack atop or Eren’s duvet, a wet patch of dribbled saliva surrounding it.

With weak standing, your knees collapse from underneath you, sending both you and Eren flat on top of his bed.

Still inside you and recovering from his orgasm, Eren lets out a stuffed groan.

“Shit…”

He breathes into your ear. The warmness of it post coitus not so inviting anymore.

“Man, that was something else.”

Your head was still spinning, your body buzzing from the cathartic expression of lust but even in the haze that you were in, you had words for the brunette.

“What the absolute fuck is wrong with you?” You mumble.

“Huh?”

What you said was clear. Eren had heard exactly what you said, but the words sounded so unthreatening for what they were that he had to ask — just in case he was hearing things wrong.

“Did you just ask what the fucks wrong with me?”

You hummed to affirm, using that as your initial answer, but it’s when Eren pinched your back for an answer that you relented.

“Worms? During sex, Eren? Really?!”

“It’s your fault for wearing them. They’re so dumb.”

“And yet you just couldn’t keep them outta ya mouth.” You quickly retort.

Eren didn’t like that. You could tell because he made a stupid huffy noise before quickly propping himself up and pulling out of your ass.

That was fun for neither of you as you both moaned in loss of the warmth.

[andguesswhat]

Of plants and loops

So I thought about that loop as requested (@zuzla33 (manip @awerager))and it got a little weird, sorry. And not even really smutty, just fluff. I'm sorry about that too. 😅

I hope someone will like it anyway!

*

Armie ran his thumb firmly over the line just behind Tim's jawline while kissing the area around Tim's larynx with his lips, then slid his tongue around the neck to behind his ear while his fingers wrapped around Tim's throat, fingertips digging into the muscles, just lightly, yet determined, so that he felt the larynx move noticeably as Tim swallowed.

He'd been doing this for quite a while now, devoting himself to Tim's throat. Tim loved it when Armie gave all his attention to it. And Armie loved doing this just as much. He knew every millimeter, knew where Tim liked it best, how soft, how strong, with his lips, with his tongue, his fingers, or rather a light sucking, with teeth or without.

And when Tim couldn't get enough, he would stretch his head back a little more, whisper "Tongue..." or "Thumb…" and point to the appropriate spot, or simply demand "Hands! Both!"

When Armie followed these instructions, he was usually gifted with a blissful smile, often accompanied by a soft sound that was not far from a cat purr.

Like now.

Tim smiled, Tim purred.

So much so that Armie thought that now that he had almost sent Tim to cloud nine with his massage, they might as well get on with it.

But when Armie let his one hand slide between Tim's legs, Tim uttered a completely indignant "No!"

And stood up and left.

At first, Armie was quite confused, he had to admit, when it slowly dawned on him why Tim probably had reacted the way he did.

Armie had had a real cleaning frenzy that morning. He had felt the great need to have the living room a little more tidy, which on the one hand was due to the fact that Tim really left everything lying around but on the other hand could also be due to the fact that Armie sometimes liked to have a certain clarity around him - if everything was already going haywire in his head. Kitchen psychology saying hello.

So he had tidied up and in his tidying mania had seen the plants, if you could still call them that, on the windowsill. Pitiful, almost - but only almost - dead plants from the Joshua Desert that Tim had once dug up and dragged along to stuff into various pots.

Well, their miserable condition could not be explained because they were not watered enough, after all, they were desert plants. But they seemed to lack the right soil or the hot sun, or whatever; fact was that neither their housekeeper seemed to find a way to make them bloom again, nor he and certainly not Tim, because he never managed to take care of such things.

So Armie decided, these plants had to go.

When Tim strolled through the apartment a little later, chewing, the cereal bowl in his hand, it was somehow clear that he noticed the absence immediately.

"Where are the plants?"

After Armie pleaded guilty, the outrage was great, but somehow so was Armie's petulance.

"You never took care of them anyway! Besides, they were ugly!"

"They weren't ugly! They were beautiful!"

"I'm not arguing with you now about the inner beauty of a stunted, ugly plant!"

"But they meant a lot to me! They stood for us, for our relationship!"

"I sincerely hope they did not stand for our relationship, because that would mean our relationship has completely withered away!"

Well, if looks could kill….

He was sorry, really sorry and he had apologized immediately.

It was strange, because it had actually looked as if Tim had forgotten the whole thing by now. But now Armie was obviously taught a better lesson.

Two hours later, Tim was sitting on the sofa reading, and Armie thought it would be a nice excuse to massage Tim's feet.

So Armie sat down next to him on the couch, took Tim's feet on his lap, took off his socks and massaged first one foot, then the other. For a very long time.

And Tim seemed to enjoy it, smiling at him every now and then, even closing his eyes with a satisfied grin, stretching so that his one foot pushed up against Armie's cock, and - intentionally or not - Armie of course didn't mind.

When this happened a second time, and Tim's foot really did push against Armie's already quite stiff cock with great relish, Armie could be sure that this was now purely intentional and therefore wanted to lean forward to kiss Tim’s lips, but was vehemently stopped from doing so by that very foot.

Moreover, Armie was punished with a look by Tim that seemed to ask how the hell Armie got the absurd idea of wanting to kiss him, followed by Tim's subsequent ignorance of Armie’s presence, which consisted of Tim simply continuing to read his book, so that Armie finally stood up, completely unnerved. And tried to calm himself down by telling himself that sometimes Tim just took a little longer.

Then at dinner everything seemed normal again, they chatted about this and that as if nothing had been wrong, and when they sat together on the sofa afterwards and watched a movie, Tim laid his head in Armie's lap as he almost always did.

After the movie they even made out. A lot, for a long time, extensively, lots of those hot and teasing licks from Tim, until Armie was already really worked up and out of sheer habit let his hand slide between Tim's legs.

"No!"

"Tim!" Armie groaned, because he just couldn't believe it. "You can't be serious, you're flying to London in two days!"

"Am I?"

And the way Tim couldn't help a tiny little evil twitch of the corners of his mouth, not to mention the most faked expression of surprise ever, showed Armie that he did have a real little bitch of a partner doing all this only to let him run aground and suffer.

Armie's eyebrows narrowed, he had to take a deep breath, but he knew he was going to get the short end of the stick, so he just said "Fine!", got up, went upstairs to the bathroom, brushed his teeth and went to bed.

When Tim crawled into bed sometime later, Armie pretended to be asleep. If Tim was acting like that...he could do it too!

The next morning, Armie decided to just turn the tables and ignore Tim completely, let him see where he got with his games.

Unfortunately, Armie quickly realized that Tim didn't seem to mind Armie's behavior at all!

Much more it seemed to move him to teasingly brush his curls out of his face while biting his bottom lip, to pleasurably suck on the cereal spoon, to very consciously bite into a banana, to expose his buttocks while scratching his ass, to stick out his ass while bending down, to grab his crotch, God knows what else, and why was he wearing almost nothing at this time of year, anyway, when he was cold all the time, even at 70 degrees in the shade?!

It made Armie furious, but he didn't really know what he could do about it, because he had the feeling that no matter what he would do, he would only make it worse.

Fact was, his desire and Tim's behavior were making him hornier by the minute.

But he had his pride, he didn't want to run after Tim like a dumb horny moose, and didn't want to make the impression it was all about sex. And that's why, when Tim told him he wanted to go out with friends in the evening, he said, Oscar-worthy indifferently, "Yeah, sure," while it tore him up inside.

At least it gave him a little bit of satisfaction that it seemed that Tim looked at him a second longer than intended.

Little bitch.

Still, the more the probability vanished that he would have sex with Tim today, the worse his desire became, until his thoughts turned exclusively to x-rated images in his mind.

Tim naked and willing in bed, Tim moaning and gasping, Tim begging to suck his big cock, Tim sucking his big cock, Tim begging to fuck him harder. Tim begging... Tim begging....

The important thing was: Tim begging!

So since afternoon, Armie had been walking around with a semi-hard-on at the latest, while his mind was happily saying goodbye to him, leaving him with a purely pornographic heap of hormones.

His need, of course, was not satisfied so by evening he was nothing but a pile of misery, his pride all but shattered. He was not far away from being the one who was begging now, his only desire being to touch Tim, which made him feel like a street dog, whimpering for the slightest bit of affection.

He stepped into the bathroom where Tim was standing in front of the mirror, getting ready for the evening, looking gorgeous as always.

And everything in Armie ached because he wanted nothing more than to touch him.

Why hadn’t he tried harder to make up for it? Why did he waste all day being stubborn?

"So what are you doing tonight?" asked Tim softly.

Armie shrugged his shoulders at first but then corrected his posture and tried to scrape together the last of his pride, saying bravely in an almost firm voice, "I'll probably stop by Nick's."

Tim smiled. "Say hi to them, okay?"

Armie nodded and continued to look at Tim. Getting more and more lost in his thoughts.

How he would love to touch him now.

How much he'd like to push his curls up now so he could kiss his neck, how much he'd like to just wrap his arms around him, give him a kiss on the cheek.

How much he...

How much he would love to at least just put his hands on Tim's goddamn hips.

At least that.

Armie’s gaze grazed the loop on Tim's shiny cloth pants.

Tim rarely wore pants with belt loops. Mostly he wore sweatpants with elastic. It looked kind of unusual.

That loop… the way it stuck out there… That hole… that you could put something through....

Armie inwardly rolled his eyes at himself. Now he was finally going crazy. If belt loops made him hot!

"Can you help me close the chain? The clasp is freakishly small." Tim held up a chain and Armie, as if in a trance, took a step behind Tim and took the chain in his hand, while secretly inhaling Tim’s scent.

Tim held up his curls and waited for Armie to put the chain around his neck.

Armie had done this many times before, admiring the little hairs on Tim's neck in the course of it, putting his lips on them afterwards.

This time he didn't dare. He didn’t want another rejection. Couldn’t take it.

Once he finished closing the clasp, he looked down in frustration as the loop on the pants caught his eye again. This hole... through which one could put something...

He wondered if he could -

Tim shouldn't have anything against that, should he?

Very slowly, he reached out and slipped his thumb through the loop and almost started to smile, because it felt like a triumph that Tim didn't turn him down.

Just looked at him intently instead, smiled gently.

"You like that?"

Yeah. Even though this was beyond weirdness.

But he enjoyed it, this little touch that had such great meaning to him right now. Longing for that little connection with Tim. And Tim let him. It made him remember that nothing should be taken for granted.

Tim could have made fun of him but he didn’t. Said gently smiling, "How about you do that again when I get back? Put your thumb through my loop. Would you like that?”

And as weird as it seemed, Armie more than happy took the offer.

As soon as Tim was out the door, though, Armie wondered if he shouldn't have asked Tim to stay. But he had been still so caught up in his ridiculously huge self-pity that he hadn’t dared.

So he vegetated the evening on the sofa, with a pillow between his legs, zapping through the channels, because of course neither Nick nor his other friends had time for him.

But nothing could catch his interest, nothing could distract him from longing for Tim.

Tim.

Sweet Tim.

Beautiful Tim.

Hot Tim.

Tim.

He must have fallen asleep on the couch because suddenly he felt Tim nudging his knee against his.

Smiling down at him.

Saying "Hey," softly and so tenderly. "Did you fall asleep?"

Armie tried to get his thoughts in order. Hadn't he just dreamed something odd? Something about eating cereal loops and trying to put his tongue and then his fingers through the loops and miserably failing?

Tim kept looking at him, so gently. Everything was so soft about him. Like if Armie touched him, everything would feel like cloud soft cotton.

If he ever got to touch him again, that was.

He would love to touch him so much.

His longing was so intense, so unbearable.

Tim smiled and pushed his left hip a little forward. "You wanted to put your thumb through my hole - oops - loop again, didn't you? Sleepy bear?"

Armie alternately looked up at Tim and then back at the loop.

Tim, who looked like a beautiful angel just descending from heaven, smiling at him with a cheeky smile. And then the loop sticking out, this seductive hole, which seemed to be just waiting for something to be pushed through it and Armie wondered if one could somehow get so aroused and come just from putting one’s thumb through a trivial loop, as a substitute action so to speak.

Because at the moment it almost felt like that.

Armie didn't come, of course, as he put his thumb through the loop once more, but - even if the weirdness of it remained - it still felt so damn special.

And he thought, if he was never allowed to touch Tim again, but was still allowed to do this, he would still be happy.

Weird.

Completely weird.

"I like that too, you know,” Tim whispered.

Well then, at least he wasn't weird alone.

Then maybe they did belong together somehow after all.

"And I’m thinking of other things I'd like you to do, you know. Do you want me to tell you?"

Armie nodded, his thumb still stuck in the loop, playing with it, jerking a little, testing his limits.

"For example," Tim continued, his voice soft and sensual. "I'd like it if you sucked my cock through my pants."

Armie blinked, felt some synapses in his brain burst, the blood rushing through his veins, and a little, happy smile flitting through his face, so excited was he to be able to touch Tim again. In this fucking hot way.

He leaned forward, opened his mouth and eagerly enclosed Tim's cock, together with the cloth pants, sucked on it, felt the silky fabric on his tongue, pressed with his tongue again and again against the hardening cock until the fabric slowly soaked through.

But he wanted, needed better access, so he resolutely pulled Tim by the loop to the couch, pulled him up so that Tim was now standing over him, pushed Tim's one knee to the backrest so that Tim could put his shin on it, spread Tim's leg, guided Tim's crotch so that Tim was now sitting on his face while his head rested on the backrest, had his mouth wide open, taking as much in as he could, his lips and teeth around Tim's cock under the fabric, and he sucked on it, until the cloth was soaking wet and smiled as good as one could with a cock in one’s mouth when he was finally rewarded with a panting Tim above him.

No need to say he was hard as a rock himself.

At some point the teasing seemed to be enough, though, because Tim opened his pants hastily, took out his cock and propped himself up on the back of the sofa so he could slowly push it into Armie's mouth. Very slowly. And Armie enjoyed the silky feel of Tim's hard cock sliding deep into his mouth, enjoying the thickness, enjoying the way it spread his mouth, and then slowly pulled out again. Tim bit his lower lip and repeated the act with relish, clearly enjoying the sight.

In... and out.

In...and out.

And Armie just loved how much Tim loved it.

"You know what else I want?" asked Tim, looking down at Armie as he continued to push his cock slowly in and out of Armie's mouth.

“I want to fuck you.

I want you to fuck me...

I want to come on your face...

I want you to fuck my mouth and come down my throat."

And Armie’s cock twitched in response.

Tim pulled his cock out of Armie's mouth, put his hand on Armie's cheek, his thumb in Armie's mouth and felt his tongue curl around it.

"But that's just the rough outline."

Armie had to grin at that because he just loved Tim saying filthy things and couldn’t wait for more. "Yes, of course, just a very rough outline."

"And maybe I'll change something along the way. But I'll always tell you what I want. Would you like that?"

"Yes, I'd like that. Every detail please."

And a jolt of pure happiness ran through his body as Tim leaned down to kiss him tenderly.

He would do anything Tim wanted. After all, that was what he was here for. To worship Tim. He was sure that this was one of the reasons why he was here on earth. If he had done that, then he had done something right in his life.

Later, as they lay there intertwined, both more than satisfied, sweat coated, cum-stained, the heavy smell of sex in the air, Tim played with Armie's hair on his chest and whispered:

"I'm sorry if I overreacted like that. The most important thing is us, right? I forget that sometimes. And I'm sorry for that." A small grin flitted across his face, his nose wrinkled. "Although I kind of liked how sweet and lost you were today."

He would be so lost without Tim.

Armie kissed Tim's temple.

He wasn't mad that Tim had let him suffer.

But he knew now what he would do when Tim was in London.

He would borrow Tyler's truck and, if necessary, transport the entire Joshua Desert to their house for Tim.

Because the plants did have meaning, Armie had realized.

They stood for hanging in there, no matter what they had to go through.

His hand gently brushed Tim's upper arm. "I love you. Even though you're a mean little bitch sometimes. Or maybe because of that. After today, I'm not so sure anymore."

Tim's naked body vibrated against his as he giggled and he couldn't feel happier.

It was good to have symbols.

They could remind you not to take anything for granted.

A plant, a loop, whatever.

*

[thelittlediaperidol]

Hello! Do you post anywhere else? You post great content and seem so very genuine, but Tumblr has been so aggressive with their moderation.

I do! But I’m super careful on Tumblr these days because you can get banned whether you break the rules or not, is all about whether or not you’ve had a large amount of people report your post then it will get hidden and if that happens enough your account will get deleted….

so is important when using tags to not use ddlg tags or commonly searched words like “sexy gir” or anything that a large amount of vanilla people would be searching for because if you do a lot of those people get freaked out or weirded out and they will report the post even if there’s no rules broken. My first Tumblr reached just about 200,000 followers before it got deleted with no explanation and no way to appeal… so almost all of us, girls have back up tumblers, which is allowed, in case our mains get deleted, which happens pretty frequently, even though I’ve been in the top 10 a few times there are certain models that are basically untouchable for whatever reason, you will never see the ABbTumblr page get deleted, You will never see Apple or Faye’s account deleted As well as some of the other girls that have been doing this for like seven years or more. but 70% or more of our revenue comes through people that find us on Tumblr… so is a necessary evil in my opinion 🫠 thas why I’m a dumb drooly baby cuz dada take care of all that for me, we are a team 🥰. I think I’m probably one of the only girls that actually lives as a baby 24 seven. dada an I do have serious thoughts when buying a new home or car. I have never actually called him by his real name. I have always only called him, Dada or daddy hehe. but at this point I’ve been in diapers 24 seven for so long I have legitimately forgotten what it feels like to be potty trained or to have the ability to hold in number one or number two. is tha ultimate humiliation an dada always pulls my diaper band back to see if my diaper is dirty or not yet, no matter where we are or what we’re doing. no even though we carry around a diaper bag, powder, etc. and my stuffy We are very careful out in public to never expose our kink to anyone, but there have been a few accidents, like if I’m leaning over to grab something off the bottom shelf there has been times where my diaper is in full view, and when I turned around there is like 20 or more people looking! So that was utterly terrifying and humiliating, and I legitimately did not mean to do that tha diapers are so normal and natural to me at this point that I usually don’t even think about them. they have gotten to the point where there is many times where I haven’t even realized that I pooped my pants until dad walks in and announces it to me and whatever friend I’m with whether they are fellow models or not, all of my friends already know, and they’re OK with it, being off by your husband to have your poopy diaper changed oh, while your best friend knows exactly what you just did is so incredibly humiliating being humiliated like that is one of my biggest turn ons… you have to be so careful to be respectful of our community and of our friends so I’ve had talked with all my friends and asked if it’s OK that this an dada leading by tha arm to a handicap bathroom and then bring me back, fresh and clean, usually with a bottle in my hand. I always ask my friends if they want to try and it’s rare that they say yes, which is perfectly OK! But every now and then one of them is curious and they want to try wearing a diaper and sucking on the pacifier when we play video games…i can tell some of them want to try so badly but they’re way too embarrassed to admit it but a few of them have played mommies in the videos with me or mistaken babysitters, that somehow went to the wrong house and think I’m the toddler that needs to be babysitted regardless of how much I protest or beg! but we never suddenly spring this, on any of our friends ever, we usually write a script, tell them what I do for a living, if they have any sign of interest, they tell them more, and I invite them to join in and some capacity if they would like to, but never pressure, always all about consent, Then, even before I considered myself, an ABDL i really should have been in diapers because of always had a very weak bladder that led to many many embarrassing accidents over the years…

but this is the life I wanted to live and it genuinely makes me happy and we make a good living doing this. Of course, every single person in my life, including all of my family members and extended family members no now thanks to a nasty cousin of mine, telling everyone… happened a long time ago and it doesn’t bother me anymore except for the fact that my girl cousins that are my age know that I’m wearing a messy diaper when a Thanksgiving dinner and they know when I get pulled to the side by daddy what’s going on (mega red cheeks).

Never wanted to involve my family in any capacity whatsoever, but we were forced to and I didn’t lie about it. I just said that I need them and this is just how it is now….

Littlediaperidol #babygurl #I needmydiapers

ab_dl

[pansexual-opera-house]

Kinda upset at Transformers: Rise of the Beasts... Spoilers Ahead, be warned. (Edited bc I'm dumb and forgot the mid-credits scene.)

Firstly, we got very little "beast" action compared to the Autobots. They were there and cool as hell, but we didn't see much of them in their other forms, or fighting, they just helped the plot along. It sucks because they had so much potential, yet we got "they're animals but ooh here look at Optimus, he's got explosions!"

Secondly, I spotted WAY too many Transformers: Prime "references". The giant spire that summoned unicron looked nearly IDENTICAL to Darkmount, the spire that Megatron erected in TFP. It was way too much to be "inspired by" to me. Also, Bee dying trying to save Prime and being brought back by some mystic energy which nobody knew was possible is another thing. (I'm less picky about that on its own but added onto the other things, it was too obvious to not call out.) There were a few more I can't remember, but I knew about halfway through the movie how it was gonna end not because it follows a timeline or was from Micheal Bay, but because it was a mix of both Transformers Prime movies.

The main human character, Noah, wears a fucking CORPSE, which just made me unsettled. Mirage dies giving Noah a suit made from himself. I thought maybe Noah would find a way to bring back Mirage or Mirage's spark would still be alive considering the suit HAS POWER. It still fires the guns and has a jetpack! It was even able to come off easy! I understand Mirage wasn't in the next chronological movie in the timeline, but that felt really cheap and just disgusting to watch. He literally was walking inside a corpse, and when I saw him pat the suit at the end, both I and the people I went to looked at each other in what I can only call shock.

Edit: I was wrong, Mirage wasn't dead, he was alive and I forgot about it. I'm gonna keep that part in because

1. It isn't revealed Mirage isn't dead until the mid credits scene so for a hot minute i was still really weirded out. And 2.I'm bitch enough to admit I was factually incorrect.

He was still wearing a fuckin' coma patient! (Though that's a little better than a corpse.)

The first time Optimus Prime fights Scourge, he gets his ass handed to him. I mean, he gets his ass beat so bad he can't even get up to save Bee. Then in the last fight sequence, he beats Scourge nearly flawlessly. I understand that he was injured because of Noah and Mirage and they both did some damage before Prime got there, but if I told a master of Tai Chi to only use one leg to stand on and let me punch him a few times but to still fuck me up, after I'd hit him, I'd STILL be on the ground in four seconds flat. And Scourge was still able to use his foot (although limited), so there's no excuse other than "plot convenience" and less-than-okay writing. It was messy and felt weak.

And the last twist, the G.I. Joe inclusion... I understand that maybe it was an answer to the question "Where do all the people go after the Autobots don't need them or they move on?" It's not my thing, but it's a nicer explanation than "They go on with life." But if they try to bring G.I.Joe and Transformers together, good luck. I'm into crossovers but that's a lot, and I don't know how much I'd be up to watch that. Maybe I'm in the minority (because the person I went with immediately looked at me with a gaping jaw excited as all hell) but that's gonna be hard to pull off. And given the past few movies, I'm not sure how well that's going to work out.

That being said, I liked a few things.

They make Wheeljack a Hispanic Nerd, which was a nice change compared to the "Rooty Tooty Aim and Shooty Badmouths" that we get a lot of in Tranformers. He was witty and a nerd and a damn "hippie van" and was just overall really cute.

Acree was a strong, independent femme bot who don't need no man. Not trying to point out "feminism shit" to make people mad, just trying to say usually Arcee is pictured with Optimus or some other mech, and she held not only her own, but Wheeljack's as well without seeming aggressive or spiteful about it. She just seemed like a bot who was bright pink, which I enjoyed.

In all, I give the movie a solid "Don't ever do that shit again" 5.5/10. Writing this I've changed my rating from 5 to 6 about four times so that's why it's got a .5.

[velvetvexations]

actually if you want to talk about it I’d be curious about your petscop opinions (in a friendly discussion way) but if not that’s totally cool!

One of the things I was telling people Petscop was of too high-quality for something to be what was happening was the incredibly dumb "playing the game in a car" thing, which I thought was a completely ridiculous theory and I really was out there like, no, guys, that's stupid, that's so stupid, and this is PETSCOP, the single greatest web series in existence, my Roman Empire, it's not stupid so obviously that can't be it.

But what I really disliked and put me down a lot was the lack of hard answers. I unironically feel like people nowadays fetishize narrative ambiguity. Death of the Author or even the idea that a work might have literally no intended meaning except to be a viewer's personal Rorschach test has gotten so big that to even suggest something mysterious might have an answer can be seen as sacrilege.

Sometimes that can be a difficult wire to walk. David Lynch refuses to ever give away the intended meaning of his work because he does want his audience to reach their own conclusions and find their own meaning in it...but, also, he did still have an intended meaning behind everything and it's not weird to try and work that out. Yes, the demand for answers killed Twin Peaks - but I would argue it was more like impatience because what fans wanted to know was specifically who killed Laura Palmer, and Lynch always intended to get to that eventually, just at the very end.

Fans during the airing of Twin Peaks took it 100% literally and weren't generally looking for symbolic meaning, they were looking for hard facts about what was occurring in-universe. While my belief of the "correct" interpretation of Twin Peaks is that the narrative blends in-universe reality with out-of-universe meta anyway, I think we would have gotten basically satisfying answers to the in-universe reality if the network had been willing to let it cook. I think subtext can be really cool, and despite my sidebar text being a Garth Marenghi reference the things I write have subtext in them as well, but usually I'm far more interested in the text when it comes to mysteries like this.

So like, I'm going to take a gamble with allowing myself to be vulnerable and admit something: when it turned out the website in Petscop had been made, but the creator just decided not to put it out? I was without hyperbole livid.

I struggle, like really struggle with anger issues, to the point where earlier this morning I was thinking about making a post about how much I've been feeling the "check your bathroom" message from Rainer, but decided against it because that's implied to be a suicide note and I didn't want to give the impression I was referring to suicidal ideation. I mean, I am also extremely depressed, but that's not what I had in mind.

Just like...the bitterness of what Rainer says in that message, the exhausted rage? Yeah, that's me. I'm an angry person. It's one of the reasons I related so hard to Kipperlilly Copperkettle in Dimension 20. Because like, my fandom for her started out being really annoyed with the protagonists and the ways they have their cocks sucked by the fandom and narrative no matter what, and how KLCK in particular was getting insane hate for insane reasons, but when it was revealed she had been in therapy for years for anger management I wanted to cry because I suddenly felt this intense empathy with her.

No matter how irrational, the revelation about the website existing but not being shown gutted me. So I was really, really angry about it and to be honest I still kinna am. I don't hold any real ill will towards the creator and, again, I know it's irrational, but that hurt me a little.

There's this scene in The Expanse where a spaceship hits a field that makes anything in motion come to an instantaneous and complete stop, and you can imagine what that does to the occupants of spacecraft traveling a bazillion miles an hour (it should really obliterate the ship, too, but whatever). It kinna felt like that. Like the series just came to a sudden and arbitrary stop with nothing explained and my investment turned into several gallons of red paint splattering the camera.

I was also very dissatisfied with it turning out that either it was all about being trans or the very least had a significant amount of it's plot be about that. I don't mean to be a Sad Puppies kinna geek who thinks their entertainment should never touch on social themes and just stick to cool laser guns, but like...I am trans. Nearly all my friends are. I talk about it constantly on this blog, I'm thinking about it constantly, it is one of the single most important, defining aspects of nearly every facet of my life. I enjoy some media that's outwardly about being trans and my writing is heavily heavily HEAVILY centered around diversity and inclusion and talking about it all, but when it's the answer to a mystery?

I can't help but find that tremendously boring. And that's another thing that, like not getting answers and it all being over so abruptly, Expanses the shit out of my investment.

And my investment in Petscop ran...deep. Very, very deep. I loved the series with every fiber of my being. Like I said, the drop-off in how I felt about it was like Satan falling from Heaven like lightning, and I felt every bit of that falling damage.

So Petscop and the way it ended was a lot for me.

[wulvert]

i cant even lie to u bald avery has become such a problem 4 me (/POS!!!!) i was doing one of my semifrequent rereads of paperteeth i do when i need a grasp on how 2 write their characters again nd i got whiplash seeing normal avery. my ass is NOT ready 2 perceive her usual form again on thursday (if ur updating that is!! pls do not feel pressured,,,)

do u perchance have any spare lore about avery (that isnt in blatant spoiler territory ofc),,,i dotn have any specific questions 2 help but i miss her. avtually i lied ive thought of one (1)

does she. does she paint her claws black or are they just Like That. the mental image of avery potentially just sitting there with a bottle of vantablack nail polish casually painting fuckign. CLAWS is so funny 2 me

I cant stop balding her its a problem like i think she needs to be baldified at some point bc i need her to exist in that form officially. ( i will i definitely wanna try stick to updating these next few weeks, bc of reasons )

avery lore.... im still pretty bad at thinking of things 2 mention unless asked direct questions but here are some extremely mundane things:

she can drive but she doesnt have a car. thats really boring. uh. lore. avery facts. all of her cutlery is silver, all her knives are silver, pretty much anything metal she owns is silver, same goes for her entire family so interacting with them, ever is gonna be a pain. (avery adopts gloves pretty quickly 2 be able to touch silver. and not get got by it (scarlet also does this quite often, u can see her wearing gloves in her introduction)) she doesnt have her ears pierced and now cant, because itd close up / reject immediately. (doesnt have them pierced bc she was always nervous about people ripping them out but more importantly just wouldnt be interested in wearing earrings) these are all really mundane facts. alive she was pretty neurotic about staying healthy (not bc she cares abt it for the sake of her wellbeing just parental influence 2 b perfect form 4 vampire murder always as long as possible) but she drinks a little more than she'd like to admit. (alcohol, not blood, though she drinks more blood than she'd like to admit, too. I guess. which isnt very much) is a little insecure about her nose crinkle when its pointed out but doesnt think about it outside of that. wears tall shoes so she can feel taller 2 the detriment of her ankles. works out exclusively from home refuses to do so in public spaces. she doesnt have much basic knowledge of subjects outside of tha supernatural... shes a little out of touch with non vampire hunter life, forgets most people actually dont think about vampires very much. after being forced to watch tv or movies she wont admit whether or not she likes something until the person she watched it with shares their opinion and she will lie accordingly (otherwise embarrassed) likes to be taken care of but wont let anyone take care of her becasue as you can see, shes LIKE THAT. modern day 2023 despite being much less pathetic, avery still tosses and turns all night (day) and scarlet has to put some weird asmr roleplay you're a worm and im making you a terrarium to thrive in (whispered) 3+ hour long youtube video in front of her to get any sleep. scarlet would totally make asmr actually. she'd make you're a wooden spork that i'm carving (DIY asmr, soft spoken). averys favourite blood type is A, not bc a for avery just because it tastes better to her. she doesnt know that in canon though. shes very intense about taking agnes to the vet whenever she does anything weird, shes always fine though and avery just gets got with vet bills. she found her in the bin. bin cat. meow. did i say that before? i think mightve sorry if that isnt fresh lore. avery & scarlet miss being warm it rly sucks being cold all the time. like. obviously. but like damn. that must suck, I hate being cold.

anyway I could go on.

the claws r naturally black but tbh she should paint them different colours 2 cope with the despair. theyre so inconvenient. she needs some kinda positive association with them. she has to custom order gloves to cover them up, cant just buy normal gloves bc the claws just. go through. they need to have a little point for her claws like little finger scabbards (she doesnt have claws on her feet but her toenails r also black 2 match. no reason other than i think itd look weird if they didnt. no intention of drawing her without socks on though so it doesnt matter-thats some lore.... other lore, the discoloured hands (like the greyness in some drawings i've posted) is a thing on its own aside from the claws, and does go away, but the claws are permanent. i think i said that though.

[kpopsickies]

Christmas sniffles

Yes, I still suck at writing titles =| 

I fully intended to post this on Christmas.... that obviously didn’t happen 

Merry Christmas and a happy new year

Sickie: Soul

Caretaker: P1Harmony 

Keeho p.o.v 

I don’t want to admit how much I had to beg our manager to let us get a Christmas tree for the dorms, but after what seemed like an eternity I was able to convince him to grant us permission, and in the end he let us get a Christmas tree. The day we had planned to go as a group to get the tree Soul and Jongseob had been called to the company for an emergency meeting. the two of them insisted that we could go and get the tree without them, but they asked us to wait to decorate until they got home.

Once the two maknaes got home we began unpacking the boxes of ornaments, I noticed pretty early on that Soul seemed a bit off, well even more so than usual. I asked him about it but he said he was fine, just worn out from the meeting. 

Soul p.o.v 

I couldn’t explain it, I had felt fine all day, but almost as soon as I got back to the dorm I started to feel off. My eyes were stinging and burning. I kinda suspected I was just tired. Keeho asked me if I was okay. I told him I was just tired. Which I myself believed, but only a few minutes later my nose was itching, and I felt like I needed to sneeze. I felt weird, I tapped Jiung on the shoulder because he was closest to me, “hyung?” he looked over at me, “Oh God, Soul are you okay?” I quickly placed my hand to my face, “what’s wrong?” 

“your face is puffy”

“my nose itches” I sniffled, “hhktcHu- hhktcHhu- hhektchuI” 

“bless you” I heard Keeho called from across the room, Jiung called Theo and Keeho over. They both came over, “Oh.. Soul are you okay?” Theo looked concerned, “I don’t know what’s w-wrh-hh- hhktchu- hhektchHhu- ektchHu- wrong with me” 

“Soul I think you’re having an allergic reaction” Jiung said, by this point the other members had come over. I felt a bit overwhelmed and embarrassed by all the attention. “I don’t k-hhKtChhu- hhKTChuu- hhektchu- know what’s w-hh- wrong.” I leaned away from the members and sneezed a few times. Keeho blessed me, “Soul, are you okay?” Jongseob sat down next to me, “You seemed fine at the meeting” I sniffled, “I felt fine.” I coughed, my throat was itchy. “Soul, I have a random question” Intak said, I looked at him, “have you ever had a Christmas tree before?” I noticed a look of understanding cross the other member’s faces, but I was confused, I shook my head, “Soul, I think you’re having an allergic reaction to the tree” I shrugged, “I don’t know” 

“It would make sense, like you felt fine until you got here.” I nodded, “Soul why don’t you go shower, in the meantime I think we’ll get rid of the tree” Keeho explained, I shrugged, “you don’t need to get rid of the tree” the others all almost instantly protested. “Soul you can’t keep this up until after Christmas. You’ll make yourself sick” Theo explained, “but-”

“Soul we can get a fake tree” Keeho explained, I nodded, my entire body felt itchy at this point. “Can I take something to help? I’m itchy” 

“sure thing kid” Keeho said, “I’ll get it” Jiung said, he had rhinitis so he was the self proclaimed allergy medicine expert. He came back a few minutes later with a cup of water and the pills, “take this and then go shower” I nodded and followed his instructions.

~20ish minutes later~

I came back downstairs and was surprised to see that the members had already gotten the tree out of the dorm, “hey Soul, you feeling better?” Jongseob asked, which brought attention to me and our hyungs looked over to us. “Yeah, I’m feeling a lot better, less itchy” I sniffled, “you guys worked fast” Intak laughed, “Keeho went full mom mode the second you left” I laughed, “I’m glad you’re feeling better”

“me too”

~The next few days the members looked on line and eventually found a fake tree on line. It was exciting for the members as the six of us bonded together decorating the tree Christmas eve, meanwhile we did a vlive, and P1ece questioned why the tree was fake, and the members just looked at me. I didn’t comment, instead choosing to continue to decorate, but as I did, I overdramatically fake sneezed as loud as i could, startling the members. I laughed, “that’s why the tree is fake” I laughed, the others rolled their eyes. 

[gaykarstaagforever]

I said I was going to read it, and I read it.

And now I know why no one else has in 55 years.

Spoiler Alert: he doesn't actually electrocute Clark, and was never going to. Utter bullshit.

The only cool things about this old guy are 1) his name is Homer Ferret, and 2) he looks like George Burns.

What is uncool about this guy is that he is an optometrist who has been stalking Clark Kent since he was a baby, for reasons he never goes into.

Like, he is just at the Kent's house when Baby Clark does his first heroic thing (pushing a runaway train car off the tracks). He is also suspiciously at the high school when it catches on fire, to see Clark jump into a bush from which Superboy then emerges to blow the fire out.

Did Homer start the fire? If not, why the hell was he hanging out at the high school? We never get answers to these and many other questions.

My favorite part is where he guesses (correctly) that Clark is Superman, based on his glasses. But not in the sane way of noticing that Clark Kent looks exactly like Superman if Superman wore glasses. Remember, no one in the DC Universe can apparently do that. Instead, as the only optometrist in Smallville, he knows Clark Kent never bought glasses from him. Once he has Clark strapped to the chair, he looks at Clark's glasses and realizes the lenses are just fake plastic ones (this was back when glasses actually contained glass).

Clark, as usual, just fucking lies and says he wears fake glasses because he is a giant coward and figured glasses would make kids bully him less. Because that is how that works.

Homer doesn't buy it, either, and so demands Clark admit he is Superman or get juiced. At the last second Clark FINALLY decides to use his X-Ray vision to look through the floor, where he sees that the generator attached to the chair is a low voltage one. Homer throws the switch and it tickles Clark with like 2 volts.

Then Homer admits he wasn't 100% on Clark being Superman after all, so wasn't going to risk killing him. Clark says "oh, you!", and decides to do a Daily Planet report on all the Superman artifacts this clearly dangerous obsessive has collected into a Superman shrine in his basement.

No one gets punched a single time.

The only good thing about this story is this random full page portrait of Clark Kent looking vaguely upset:

The other story in the issue is better, in that it is way, way dumber.

It starts off showing you how YOU TOO can draw Superman!

I feel there are a few steps missing here, but

Jimmy Olsen tells Clark how he is joining an art correspondence school, and Clark IMMEDIATELY decides it is a scam worthy of Superman's attention. And sure, it is definitely a scam being run by mobsters. But the second half of that is not remotely true.

Before he starts using X-Ray vision and perfect recall and telescopic vision and TIME TRAVEL (yes) to "solve" this crime of low-level mail fraud, he has to interview a kid who wants to be a cartoonist at the Daily Planet. Where he says this:

I think I get what he's supposed to be saying in this weird attempt at 60s Mod talk, but it took me awhile. You give it a go.

He also is a total dick about how much this child's comic strip sucks.

I mean it's no Silver Age Superman comic, but they can't all be, Clark. And let's be honest here, the bar is pretty low.

At some point in his "investigation" of this scam art school, Clark decides the best plan is for him to create forgeries of classical Western paintings. By this point he already has more than enough evidence to have these guys arrested, but he didn't get to do any pointless TIME TRAVEL yet (yes), so, priorities.

He flies back in time to study the painting techniques of the great masters. But he is bad at time travel (yes, literally), so he accidentally flies through the tail of Halley's Comet, which makes him 1) 16, and 2) blue.

Then this happens:

Let's unpack this.

1) Superman was the inspiration for Thomas Gainsborough's "Blue Boy," because he at this point is a boy, who is dressed in the mostly-blue Superman costume. ...But also because his skin is blue. You know. Unlike the boy in the painting.

2) Gainsborough uses Superboy as a model, in that he has him pose, holding a hat. But the boy in the painting is wearing a completely different outfit of rumpled velvet. So Gainsborough just did the complex outfit from his imagination, but he needed Superboy to show him what a boy holding a hat looks like? What bizarre level of "master artist" is this?

3) He doesn't paint the Blue Boy's skin, because Superboy has blue skin, and that would be too weird. And while he can obviously do imaginary clothes fine, he needs another model with normal-colored skin to do a face and a hand. ...Even though he only chose Superboy as a model in the first place, partly because he has blue skin, which makes him a 'Blue Boy,' which is what inspired the whole painting in the first place. ...Except he never intended to actually make the Blue Boy blue-skinned. So...

Adult men with families and mortgages wrote this.

After this, Superboy flies back through Halley's Comet's tail, restoring his age and color. Then he goes to visit Rembrandt, where Rembrandt ACTUALLY DRESSES HIM IN A PERIOD OUTFIT, to use him as a model for one of the figures in "The Night Watch". Because Superman is so muscular.

Because, as everyone thinks when they see that painting, "Man. That one guy in the hat is buff as shit." (?)

Notably, yet again, the painter doesn't paint Superman's face, this time because a officer of the REAL Night Guard paid to have his portrait put in the painting. But I guess that guy's body wasn't all swol and hot enough for Rembrandt's painting...of that specific guy.

"WHAT DOES ANY OF THIS HAVE TO DO WITH GETTING THE POLICE TO ARREST THE MOBSTERS RUNNING A SCAM ART SCHOOL??"

Good goddamn question.

Superman comes back to the present and creates perfect forgeries of the two paintings he was inexplicably involved in creating. When the mobsters try to sell them as the real paintings, Clark Kent shows up with the cops and points out how the forgeries aren't actually perfect, he made them slightly different to prove they were fakes.

And this somehow is a crime the mobsters get arrested for. Instead of Clark Kent, who very obviously painted the forgeries so that these guys could sell them. Like, that was their plan, that the heretofore whatever Daily Planet reporter Clark Kent is suddenly such an amazing artist that he can make near-perfect forgeries of great paintings. And Clark went along with it, until he stopped. And this finally proves their art school is a scam. Even though the building they are in literally has trashcans full of art submissions they have thrown out once they take the registration money out of the envelopes. And all the secretaries working for them know the whole plan and have been helping them do it.

I'm not inferring that. That is all specifically shown in the comic.

None of this was necessary. Absolutely none of it.

On the plus side, at the end, the Daily Planet hires that kid to do his monkey comic. But just the writing, because Clark still thinks his art sucks. Jesus Christ, Clark.

Here is an ad for a hobby model of what was at the time an 11 year old station wagon.

I'm not being sarcastic! That's what their ad copy says! That's how they sold this!

There is also a Letters to the Editor feature, which I didn't take a picture of, because they print everyone's full names and hometowns. Yes I know even those kids are probably dead now, but I'm not going to chance it.

At any rate, about half the letters are children telling DC's editors that these Superman stories are stupid and full of inconsistent nonsense. To which the DC editors reply by defensively snapping back at them.

So it's not just us, as adults, now.

They knew. Everyone knew.

[eflen-n-reegee]

Earth and Sky

This is a short fic about Mark Watney (from “The Martian” regressing on Earth. It may be a little out of character, but I’m generally happy with it. I hope you guys like it too!

Heads up: fic contains a little swearing and trauma regression, but ends with more happy regression.

Mark Watney was a lot of things. An astronaut; a botanist; the sole colonist of Mars; a space pirate. He had been the first human to farm produce from another planet; he had traveled faster than anyone in the history of space travel; and he had dropped the f-bomb in front of the entire world at least a hundred times (he hadn’t actually counted, but that seemed like a good guess).

He was also the first person (as far as he knew) to regress on Mars; but he didn’t talk about that as much. He wasn’t ashamed - the way he saw it, most people would have gone nuts in his position, so a slightly unusual coping method was no big deal. He just didn’t want it to be a casual conversation piece. Regression was really personal to Mark, and aside from his closest friends, nobody needed to know about it.

Which is why he decided to leave the university as soon as he finished his class - pile of ungraded papers be damned. He was already in his car and heading home when the rain started falling, and he sucked in an unsteady breath.

Mark usually only regressed when he wanted to, safe at home or with friends he trusted. But storms always set him off, and the weather station was predicting a bad one. That, plus the first-week-of-teaching jitters, meant he was definitely going to be regressed for a while. He shared an office with another teacher, and he didn’t know the campus well enough to have a good hide-and-regress spot. Heading home seemed like the only option.

Except it wasn’t really an option, because when the first crack of thunder hit, he almost swerved off the road. That decided things, he had to pull over. Fortunately, there was a parking lot coming up on his right. He pulled into a spot (and actually double-parked, but that was a problem for later), turned off the car, and immediately lost nearly all capacity for thought.

Storm. Loud and bad, carried away, pain and all alone and scared scared scared…

Mark fumbled awkwardly with his seatbelt, whimpering softly. He finally got unbuckled and crawled into the backseat, pulling a picnic blanket over his head. That could block out the lightning, and pulling up some music on his phone helped with the noise; but nothing he could think of would stop the vibrations he felt in his teeth every time the thunder boomed overhead. He laid down on the seat, covering his ears and crying softly.

He flinched hard when his phone rang, and it took longer than he would have admitted to accept the video call from Melissa Lewis.

“Hi Mark,” she said gently, her eyes full of concern. “Did you make it home?”

He shook his head.

“Are you somewhere safe?”

“Mm.”

“Can you tell me where you are? I can come get you.”

Mark shook his head again. Even if he had the words to tell her (which, at this moment, he did not), staying in the motionless car felt like the new best option.

“Okay. I can stay on the phone, if you want some company.”

He considered this, then nodded. “Plees.”

“Want me to play some music?”

Despite his tears and the storm and his fear, Mark giggled. “Mmba,” he mumbled, chewing on the edge of his blanket.

“Abba. Okay.”

Within a few minutes, the opening of ‘Dancing Queen’ was playing through his phone. It was too old and too disco, but it was very familiar at this point, and Mark could take comfort in that. He shut his eyes and tried to focus on the music and the texture of the blanket against his lips.

When he woke up, the song was ‘Take a Chance’ and the volume had obviously been lowered. And the rain had stopped.

Melissa was working on her computer, but when she noticed him moving she turned her attention to her phone. “Hey, Mark. Feel any better?”

“Mm… kinda.” He was in a weird headspace, somewhere between regressed and not, but at least he didn’t feel scared any longer. “How long was I asleep?”

“About an hour. I was gonna try to wake you pretty soon.”

“Sorry.”

“Mark, you never need to apologize.”

He grinned. “Not even if-”

“For this,” Melissa amended, rolling her eyes. “You don’t have to apologize for this, you absolute child.”

Mark grinned larger at the “insult”.

 “What are you going to do now?”

Mark shrugged and stretched and finally looked out the window. The lot he was parked in was next to a playground. “I still feel kinda fuzzy. Think I’m gonna wait a little longer before I drive home. I feel okay, though.”

“Will you text me so I know you made it safe?”

“Uh-huh… Thanks.”

After he hung up, Mark got out and pulled his backpack from the trunk. Obviously the playground equipment would be soaking wet, but since Mars he always kept emergency gear in his car, and that included a few extra sets of clothes. He found a pair of pants and a t-shirt, set them to the side so he could easily grab them, and let himself fall fully into regression.

It was almost hard to believe that what he felt a couple hours ago was in any way similar to this experience. When he regressed by choice, he always felt excited and curious and very much in control. He grinned and ran onto the playground, enjoying the feel of the wet grass against his ankles.

The playground had slides and climbing structures and a sandpit, but Mark’s interest was drawn to the swings. There weren’t just the regular swings or the ones for toddlers; there were also huge circular swings that could easily fit several children or a couple adults.

Mark grinned and pushed the swing up until the edge of it was at eye level. Then he jumped onto it, clinging to the ropes as he tried to settle himself without altering the motion. He finally flipped onto his back, and his delight turned to curious awe.

When he swung up, he could see the playground in front of him; the equipment, the grass, the trees, and so on. When he swung back down, all he saw was the sky. The setting sun had turned it orange and pink, and his eyes were drawn to a ribbon of colors; a rainbow, faint but definite, like frosting spread thin over a cake.

Mark Watney was many things, including an age regressor. He didn’t tell many people that, but it wasn’t because he was ashamed. He wasn’t ashamed to visit a playground after a storm, to lie across a swing and think of nothing but the Earth and the sky and the sensation of flying.

All he was, was happy. And there could be no shame in that.

[fiixer]

is there any kind of job you won't take?

" Y'know, most people don't ask stuff like that unless they want something reeeally weird."

That was generally how it worked, in his experience.  Either a potential client was going to ask for something bizarre, or they were too nosy for their own good, perhaps as a poor attempt at small talk to get a chummy vibe going with him.  Jordi has had a few of both in his time, the latter of which never worked, but he had to admit the attempts were adorable.  "I'm good with weird and all.  Cash is cash, I usually don't care how I have to get it, but believe it or not,  I do have standards - I know, it shocked the hell outta me, too, but there it is.   So, yeah, there's a few jobs I won't take - but, I also won't let anyone else take them, either."

What that means will come in time.

"Kids. I don't deal with shit involving kids.  And I don't mean like, holding a kid for ransom, scaring the hell out of them…that kind of thing is alright.  Not my favorite, but it pays, so I can't complain.  No, no, no, when I say 'involving kids', I mean putting them on the business end of my .45.  And before anyone starts spewing bullshit like who would do that - " For that, his voice climbs a derisive octave or two, only to drop back to normal in barely a breath. " - people do.  Not a lot of people, but people.  I've had one."

It's one he doesn't think of often anymore, now that so many years had passed.  Thus far, it had been one of a mere handful that he'd refused, and one of two he'd turned down because – well, he'd rather not get into the reasons why he'd shot them down.  Introspection sucks, he'd not here for that mess.  Oh, no, instead he's thinking an explanation is in order here.  A man like himself doesn't say no to paying work without good reason, after all.  So, guess what?  It's story time.

"I don't think I was in Chicago a year when this guy contacts me.  Says he wants to get back at his ex-wife.  They split the year before, she got their kid, she was seeing another guy and I dunno, some other bullshit, I stopped listening by that point.  I just remember thinking This is why I don't do the relationship crap.  It gets messy way too quick and then you end up with freak shows like that nutsack who can't leave shit alone.   Just thinking about it gives me a headache…" Trailing off, he comes to a pause.  A breath, and then a tense, albeit distant,  "Where the hell was I…?"

Chicago, relationships…divorced creep.  Ex wife, job refused because -

"- oh, yeah.  So, anyway, we meet, he tells me he wants to 'teach her not to fuck with him', but he doesn't want her dead, because everyone points fingers at the ex when stuff like that happens.  He just wanted her fucked up.  Not physically, 'cuz that would heal too quick and, again, everyone always thinks it's the ex.  He wanted to fuck with her head, permanently, and how'd he wanna do it?  By hiring me.  Not to mess with her or scare her or whatever- that'd be fine, I'd done it a thousand times before.  Nah, this asshole wanted me to take out the five-year-old she had custody of.  Yknow, really hit her where it hurts."

In theory, Jordi's previously mentioned tactics - ransom, threats, etc. - usually worked just fine, and probably would have in that instance, too.  Most parents would lose their minds over that kind of stuff, but a client wants what a client wants.  His part in the deal was to listen and do what he's paid to, no questions asked or input placed.

"I said I'd take it.  Told him to pay me upfront and then, when the job was done, I'd clean the mess and he'd never have to see me again, and y'know what?  He did.  Transferred it over, didn't even question it, and after he did, I was about to head out to get the job done, but before I could, the craziest shit happened.  I stood up, went to leave, and the next thing I know, there's a bullet right in the middle of his forehead - fuckin' dead center.  The second one wasn't too far off, either; think it was like…in his eye or something, I dunno, hard to remember now, but I do remember, with all of his blood flying around, some of it ended up on my jacket.  My brand new Patagonia, can you believe it?! "

The audacity of some people. Even as a corpse, the guy was a dick, which could have almost been respectable if Jordi wasn't on the receiving end of things.

He really liked that coat, too...

"So, I popped the fucker a third time, went home to change, and took myself out to a nice dinner on the lakefront.  I got my money, and no one was around to claim I didn't get the job done - which actually reminds me, you breathe a word of this to anyone, just know, I got three bullets on me just for you, got it?  Cool, cool.  But, uh..yeah, that was that."

That one felt good.  If pressed, Jordi couldn't put a finger on exactly what made that particular request much different than the countless others he'd handled; maybe it was just because it was a kid involved, maybe he'd started going soft a little sooner than he'd noticed.  Whatever the case, it was a hard limit on his end.  What should have been a meeting like any other had left a hollow pit in his stomach the whole time the guy talked, after he'd revealed intentions and explained exactly what he wanted Jordi to do.  Such a pathetic waste of space, that one, drawing a target on someone who couldn't fight back...

As far as he's concerned, he fulfilled a contract, albeit an unspoken one, for saving some random woman he'd never meet the hassle of her ex-husband's existence, and spared a kid the trouble of being caught in the middle of that whole disaster. Look at him - making the world a better place, one well-placed bullet at a time.

"Moral of the story is, a job like that?  Nope, won't take it, and anyone who comes to me with shit like that it's gonna end up like ol' what's-his-face…I can't remember it now, it's been a while.  So far, that one's been the only time I've been asked to off a kid, but if I know anything about people, it's that someone, somewhere out there, is just fucked up enough to want it, too."

[instantdepresso]

I said I would write something about my weirdo trio during their time in Orr and now it's there! Hurray!

Asoka is sixteen when he’s sent to Orr with the rest of the Pact soldiers. He’s sixteen and had traded a life in the streets of Divinity’s Reach for a time of unprecedented terror in Orr. He doesn’t even know which is better.

Orr is empty and weirdly cold and wet. It’s like living in a mortuary. He knew he would hate it there the moment he had first stepped on that dead land. But all he’s told to do when he complains is shut up and do is job. It’s not a playground, they tell him. As if he doesn’t already know.

Oh Dwayna, don’t let me die here. That would really suck.

The days are long and exhausting and he really fucking hates it here. There no time to rest and even less to joke around. Still, he tries. At night, he tries to find time when he has to help at camp – on top of his job as a scout, but he starts to think he’s being hazed a little by his superiors.

*****

“I thought about a few jokes today.”

Agni ignores him as usual. Asoka doesn’t mind – it would be strange if she didn’t. Night-time is her woodcarving break. It helps her focus, she says.

“Do tell.” Nux invites him. The Asura is sitting at the other side of the campfire. She was reading a book in silence, until now. Her eyes glisten with the fire light.

“Okay, hear me out. What does a Skritt says to another when they meet each other?”

Agni sighs loudly and raises her eyes in disdain to the inky sky. Both Nux and Asoka ignore her. That woman doesn’t know humour.

“I have no idea.” Nux admits while closing her book.

“Mice to meet you.”

Nux snorts. Agni lets out something that Asoka is interpreting as a chocked laughter she’s trying to contain. That way, he knows it’s hilarious. Usually, when something lacks wit, she just looks at him with pity.

The three of them were at Claw Island. They had been knowing each others for a few months now. Asoka thinks he’ll succeed at making Agni warm up to him before the end of the fight against Zaithan. So he jokes around. And she listens despite herself. In a way, he tries to cheer her up as well as entertaining himself. He knows she’s grieving.

“Good one kiddo.” Nux is kinder to him, but she sometimes act as if they weren’t only four years apart. There is a tiredness in her eyes. Something older than their time in Orr. Older than Claw Island. But she isn’t as easy to read as Agni. He doesn’t know how to assess her.

“What is your book about?” He asks to change the subject. She raises it in front of her with spark of joy in her smile. The title reads On Skritt Culture, by Researcher Nux.

“You… Are reading your own book.” Asoka can hear Agni next to him. He’s keeping himself from laughing. What a bunch of weirdos.

“It is! It’s a brilliant work that I’m very proud of!” Nux responds, and Agni just shrugs, defeated by her lack of commentary on it. “Anyway, you guys are just jealous because you can’t write.”

Asoka scoffs. “How dare you. Do my jokes mean nothing to you? It’s pure genius.”

“Genius … For a five years old Asura.”

“Now you’re just mean.”

Agni has not said anything in a while. Asoka is not even sure she’s still listening to the conversation. Her knife keeps taking chunks or driftwood, but whatever she’s trying to do, it’s not looking like anything he had ever seen.

“Anyway, did I tell you about the weird shit I’ve seen today while scouting the Elysium Beach?” He continues. Agni’s eyes flicker in his direction, but just briefly. She tries to ignore him still. “Okay so here I was, being discreet and all-” Agni barks out a laugh that makes people look at them. “Discreet? Now that’s the funniest joke I’ve heard all day.” Nux can’t help but smile. “Can’t deny that. But go on Asoka, finish your story.”

“Yeah so I was extremely discreet and with my group and at some point we stop, you know. And I look at the beach and you will NEVER know what I’ve seen.”

“What?” Nux parrots.

“A risen building a sand castle.”

“Oh so now we are just telling lies, is that it?” Agni tells him without looking up from her work.

“I swear in front of the Gods and the Spirits and whatever the Asuras believe in!” Asoka is now raising his hands in act of faith. Nux adds quickly: “The Eternal Alchemy.”

“You can swear all you want, I still don’t believe you.” Agni is frowning and her eyes are now on him as if she’s trying to read his mind. He smiles smugly. He knows she hates that. And it works. “Urgh, whatever, stop that. It’s annoying.” And it’s the last thing she says before she gets up and goes away. Probably to sleep an hour or two. She can’t be there forever, there’s an army of the living dead to fight and she’s a good soldier.

“You should sleep too.” He hears Nux say to him. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

They both know it’s not a certitude.

[bookwhimses]

slain darling: in certain lights

I have a word doc called "slain darlings" which is just scenes or lines I cut out from DGHDA fics. This one below is on the larger side and was cut from the fourth chapter of In Certain Lights because it completely destroyed the tension building up in the scene. It does have some fun banter in it, though, and I'm determined to share something tonight, so here it is below, unedited.

Refresher/intro for anyone who hasn't read ICL: the premise of the fic is that Dirk is unsure how to interpret how weird Todd gets around certain people, specifically, people who hit on Dirk. It's very much a jealousy pining trope fic which touches on how being autistic and being in love with Todd influences the way Dirk interprets social behaviour around him (sometimes because he overcorrects himself or assumes he's bad at reading people bc autism). This scene was cut from the penultimate chapter, in which Dirk has become over-conscious of Todd's behaviour and is secretly hoping it does signify that Todd has feelings for him. Dirk, Todd, and Farah at a restaurant and their waiter is Jake, who is flirting with Dirk.

“How about you, Dirk?” Jake’s smiling down at him again, his dimple peeping in his left cheek. “Did I pronounce that right?”

“Yeee-ees …” Dirk tries to look at Todd out of the corner of his eye, but all he can see are stiff shoulders and a pale blur. He looks up at Jake instead, attempting another smile. “You did! That was some … excellent pronouncing!”

Jake’s grin brightens, though Dirk’s view of it is quickly obscured by a cream and black blur that resolves itself into Todd’s menu, which Todd had apparently decided to shove at Jake right at that moment. Jake takes the menu, his grin faltering slightly as he catches Todd’s eye.

“Er …” Dirk shoots Jake yet another weak smile, this one a shade apologetic. “Fish for me too, thanks.”

Jake’s smile recovers and he whisks the other menus away with their orders. By the time Dirk turns back to the table, Todd’s expression has faded back to an only slightly strange, pained smile.

“How did you put it the other week?” Todd switches to his ‘Dirk-accent,’ which sounds even more egregiously Australian than usual. “‘You’re in there.’”

Fraught with social confusion or not, Todd’s impressions always have the same effect on Dirk, and he wrinkles his nose, unable to stop himself from snorting.

“Oh, don’t start,” both Dirk and Farah say simultaneously – though Dirk sounds too charmed to be completely convincing, and Farah sounds like she wants to bludgeon Todd with the pepper pot.

Todd is apparently spurred on by Dirk’s laugh though, because he leans forward, propping his elbows on the table, “‘Excellent pronouncing?’ It’s one syllable.”

“Didn’t you say that Silas called you ‘Toad’ once?” Dirk says, prompting a snicker from Farah, who’s back on her phone.

Todd’s smirk turns back to a glower, “Yeah, well. Silas was a fantasy man made up by like, a ten-year-old. And he sucked at sword-fighting.”

“Yes, Silas and I had that in common.” Dirk rather wishes he’d had other things in common with Silas, namely a devoted boyfriend whom he was 110% sure was romantically interested in him and not just an affectionate and overprotective pal.

“You – you weren’t that bad.”

Dirk sends a Look of his own Todd’s way, and Todd’s mouth starts to curve at one end into a suppressed but far more genuine grin. The bundle of confusion and anxiety in Dirk’s chest eases a little.

“Okay, you were pretty bad,” Todd admits. “You definitely get points for effort though. And enthusiasm, like, you definitely committed.”

“Oh yes, I’m sure Silas is really nursing that scratch I laid on him. In fact, in light of the scar that would have left him with, my efforts on the battlefield really do outweigh you punching his lights out.”

“Yeah, you really outshone me,” Todd grins.

“What can I say, don’t mess with this gangle of assorted limbs,” says Dirk, snapping his fingers in mock confidence, and Todd laughs.

“You’re both ridiculous,” says Farah, not lifting her eyes from her phone.

Todd and Dirk exchange a glance over her ducked head, identical grins and silent shared affection for their friend, and Dirk feels himself find steady ground again.

[sevenaldzdramashit]

I usually don't want to say much about the shit, I'm too busy with researching how to free myself from life(and with disgusting attention seeking 😁😆) BTW you can send me money to make me die faster: (link) joke

Yes the situation with the community sucks, nothing will change so I gave up on "communicating".

"Why drama if we all can forgive each other and be friends?"(sounds very sweet but) "I hate your partner I want them to die. Do you want to be my friend? No? Why?"

It's awesome you managed to actually keep it cozy(that's the whole point of a gaming community, I know) - however in order to do it you ignored belittled and humiliated a few people(would be nice to admit it and not forget about it) but since you consider us terrorists it apparently was a "saving the community from abusers" operation, so good job. We don't have any power which is very convenient for you. "We" are basically 2,5 people VS the entire community full of cool veterans streamers other sacred cows and everyone is friends, so it's obvious why we don't matter and why new people would rather join you than some weird negative outcasts who only "spread dramas".

I'm super done with it but staying quiet makes me feel like you're getting away with whatever you've done. There's basically no point anyway but i think I'll post whenever i feel like it, i don't have anything useful though so recommend to look at what @atalantavanessalmao posts(screenshots).

Initially I planned to just leave you alone and do my own thing too, i mean streaming, but everything somehow is affected by this situation especially if i streamed TGC games; Journey isn't a real option because every time i streamed it it was considered a "political gesture" 😁. Yes i also just want to have fun sometimes just like you all and there's nothing weird about it, it's only weird to ignore important shit in order to have fun.

Anyway I deleted my Twitch account(s) to "burn the bridges", I used to be like "feel free to message me let's discuss!!" but now it's "okay no one needs that, I'm also done don't sneakily look at me and especially don't pretend to be a nice stranger on my streams" 😁 I think at this point no one is obsessed with me though, which is amazing and means no one will ever try to find my new account. Joke i don't have a new account, or any, my pink sparkly dreams about streaming are ruined 🤣🫥 If I had a future I would still stream "Art" though, i think...

Okay I'll stop for now see you later (i hope no)

Have a nice day everyone and don't worry we the journey terrorists are already suffering enough so apparently even life is on your side in this shit conflict 😆😁😲

[batsarebetterthanpeople]

omg i felt weird abt sending that ask but i was hoping it would inspire some dumping of thoughts, hell yeah i relate a lot actually being autistic/adhd and a trans guy. which is honestly why i’m caught off guard by my recent izzy fascination. i think i’d be less fascinated if i was involved in the fandom and had been bogged down by discourse lol. like i fully HATED him on my first watch when the show came out a few months ago and prayed on his downfall but then i set the show aside for a while and rewatched it last month and since then i can’t stop thinking abt him. i think it’s bc i’m at a place rn where i find it rlly hard to connect to ppl, have to shove down my feelings to get by on the daily, i’ve have a bunch of very emotional ppl around me my whole life who i’ve had to manage things for, and bc of my autistic interest with character tropes starting from a super young age i sometimes have to work to see other ppl as archetypes of themselves rather than fully fledged nuanced ppl. so i’m interested in psychoanalysing him but not excusing his stuff bc he’s fr the most unhealthily coping person in the show which is saying something. but tbh i think if i let my walls down i’d relate to ed more? but the walls existing makes me relate a lot to izzy rn i think. but not that much bc like hey sucks and i’m gay. i will say i never got the repressed sexuality stuff from him but that’s just me. i read it more as him being completely repulsed by romance and emotion bc it stirs something in him he rlly doesn’t want to confront. idk i’m in my izzy hands blorbo era rn and trying to avoid talking to the wrong ppl abt it dbsnbd sorry if it’s annoying

Dude you're so valid. I hope you get better at letting people in and keep working on your empathy. I usually see Izzy kinning as a red flag but it sounds like you're relating to the fact that he's the only character on the boat who isn't in the found family and to the fact that he projects things onto people which you seem to be self aware of so ill let it slide. Onto Blorbo from my shows.

I suppose one doesn't have to read him as repressed. Although I don't think that him being a repressed gay guy and him being completely repulsed by romance and emotion because it stirs in him something he doesn't want to confront are necessarily so different. Either way the vibe is that he's scared or resentful of his own feelings for Ed. I've never thought that he was necessarily pretending to be straight or anything. This is all head canon at this point but to me I think he's probably willing to admit his sexual attraction to some men. (He knows he's attracted to Ed and would probably admit it if the right person asked him in the right way but he'd never even let himself form the thought "I want to fuck Lucius" much less say it out loud despite it being objectively true) But I that being said I think a repulsion to gay love, which we know he has because of the whole "He's done something to my boss's brain" bit (and all of the baggage that implying queer love is a corrupting influence carries), is still repression. I suppose if he's aromantic (I have seen that head canon floating since Con said that he isn't interested in a romantic relationship at the C2E2 panel) maybe not but Aro people don't choose not to love, they just don't experience romantic attraction. Izzy Hands seems to actively choose not to love, romantic or otherwise, because he thinks love makes you weak (if the way he treats a love sick Edward is any indication anyway). So IDK how comfortable I am with putting him in the aromantic category, just because there are so few aro characters and one of them being a man who despises love and is the villain in a rom-com trying to keep the alloromantic main couple apart isn't a great look, but that's a whole other thing.

But yeah avoiding certain people is a good plan because you really have to avoid certain takes. Because it's not like Izzy is Kylo Ren, right, he's not utterly deplorable in that sort of way (I know Kylo got a redemption arc but it was a shitty one that failed to actually redeem him and he was still a space fascist don't at me). He's just a fucked up guy on a pirate ship, if there was ever a place to be a fucked up guy it would be on a pirate ship. But if we're gonna sympathize with him we have to avoid certain takes and certain people. Like we just can't be pretending that he's not motivated by homophobia, we can't be pretending that Ed's abusing him somehow, we can't pretend that there's nothing to the reading of him doing some racist things, we can't pretend that he's some hypercompetent babysitter who is the only one getting things done on the ship (even if that's how he sees himself it's not true, it's proven wrong by the events of the show).

All that to say I guess he's a fun blorbo as long as you're not vilifying Ed or missing the point of the character. Probably keep avoiding Izzy stans tbh.