#I'm trying to will myself to put actual effort into the rest of the story

[collectingmuses]

// Hello, yes, here's the mentioned shippy drabble I wrote about two OC's set in the late 70s.

Is this purely for myself???....yes. I'm posting it anyways.

Her eyes were drawn to the glint of the coin in the dim light, watching as it flipped effortlessly through the air, blurring into a silver orb as it twirled. The quarter clattered against the bar top, bouncing unsteadily onto it’s edge where it wobbled and spun before finally falling over and settling to a full stop.

“Heads. Fuck!” George Washington’s expressionless face stared off into nothingness as Maggie let out a frustrated groan.

“Holy shit.” Eric murmured, his usual dry monotone tinged with the faintest hint of genuine surprise and enthusiasm. “I won? I never win.”

“We can flip it again.” Maggie offered. “Yeah? Best two outta three?”

“Oh, no. No, no.” Eric’s smirk stretched out into a full blown smile as he picked up the coin, tapping it against the hardwood of the countertop and slowly backed his way towards the jukebox. “The rules are clear. Winner gets jukebox rights for the rest of the shift.”

Maggie cringed. “At least pick something good.”

The only thing close to a reply that came from Eric was the sound of the quarter dropping into the metallic slot on the front of the jukebox. Maggie sighed, frowning in anticipation while watching Eric press a few different buttons, getting his money's worth of music. The jukebox whirred to life, dropping the first 45 onto the spindle.

Buddy Holly began to play, eliciting another exaggerated moan of anguish from his coworker.

“Mate, you’re killin’ me with the grandpa music.”

The duo were opposites in every sense of the word. Maggie, a fish out of water, was stranded a long ways away from her native England. That in itself was enough to make her an oddity in this backwater Louisianan town, but her chopped and dyed hair and DIY clothes, all ripped and torn and sewn and safety pinned, made damn sure that she stood out amongst the locals more so than she ever did back in West London.

Eric was a veteran, a draftee of ‘nam. He never talked much about it, and Maggie never really pried, but she’d gleamed enough to know it was a bad time for him. Real bad. Not that you’d ever know it to look at the guy. His dry, sardonic voice...the little grin tugging at the side of his mouth as he swept the bar floor and grooved along to the music he knew she couldn’t stand...he seemed normal, well adjusted. He was the exact kind of square that Maggie and her friends would snark about in her old life.

‘Funny how that works out?’ Maggie mused to herself, absently polishing the last of the glasses, stacking them up in rows of five behind the bar. ‘Anywhere else, any other time or place on the face of the earth, and we’d never even give one another the time of day.’

She glanced up in time to see Eric twirl the broom around playfully as he began sweeping between the opposite row of tables.

‘Well...I wouldn’t, at least.’ she continued the thought. ‘Eric’s too much of a puppy.”

“What?”

Maggie jumped, Eric’s voice jolting her from her little daydream. Part of her worried she had accidentally uttered the quiet part loud, but the truth was only slightly less mortifying. Eric had caught her staring at him.

“You.” she covered, not missing a beat. “Just watching the show. They teach you those moves in boot camp, soldier boy?”

It was enough to earn a laugh from the young man. “Oh, yeah. First week in basic...how to cut a rug.”

“Too bad your taste in music is shite.” she teased, still somewhat sore over losing the wager. One of the positives about closing the bar alone was having full control over the music. She’d managed to sneak a few records from her personal collection into the machine, and while she’d been able open up Eric’s mind to the new punk sound, he still had a habit of playing tunes that hadn’t been considered cool in well over a decade. She missed nights of endless Sex Pistols, The Damned, and the Stooges.

The song came to an end, the jukebox whirred to life as it switched out the vinyl for the next song. Eric shrugged and set the broom aside.

“You don’t like my music, you don’t like my moves. I just can’t win, can I?” he replied, playfully pouting. “Make you a deal, though. You do me this one little favor and I’ll unplug the jukebox, reset it, let you play what you want for the rest of the night.”

“Mmmh, tempting. What’s the catch?” Maggie asked, arms folded atop the polished countertop as she leaned forward, like she was about to hear some juicy secret. The needle dropped inside the machine, the opening strains of “You’ve Really got a Hold on Me” by Smokey Robinson began to play from the speakers.

“Dance with me?” Eric asked, as casual as can be while threading a hand through his shaggy mop of blonde hair.

Maggie the sarcastic, tough, caustic, young woman that she was hadn’t expected to be caught so off guard by the bluntness of the request. Her face went a faint shade of red, which she tried to hide by tossing up her hands and (accidentally) letting out the most undignified snort/laugh/squeal that either of them had ever heard.

“Are you takin’ the piss?” she asked, all while Eric smirked and began to dance along to the song. Maggie shook her head, trying her damnedest to appear unaffected, which wasn’t doing much to convince either of them. “You must be. You’ve lost it, man.”

Eric didn’t respond, instead he kept dancing, picking up his broom to use once again as a stand in for a dance partner. He moved to the beat...even began to sing along to it while playfully motioning to Maggie to join him.

‘ I don't like you, but I love you...’

“Oh, no. Now the singing. I can’t believe this.”

‘Seems that I'm always thinking of you.’

“Eric, seriously, I’m weighing the pros and cons of committing arson right now.”

“Oh, oh, oh, you treat me badly...”

“Ugh, ALRIGHT fine!” She huffed, slapping her hands against the counter, just barely hiding her own bemused smile. Maggie stepped out from behind the bar, dragging her feet while making her way over to the taller man. “...but I get to play what I want for the rest of our shift.”

“Hey, that was the deal, right?” Eric replied, dropping the broom, and offering his hand to the punk rocker. She hesitated, suddenly feeling quite shy. Eric was a friend, about the only one she had since ending up here in Sunny Hollow...he was always kind to her, despite her sarcasm and barbs aimed at his insufferable, loud mouthed brother. He was just goofing around, nothing more...right? No, she wasn’t reading too much into this.

So then why the hell was her heart pounding so hard as she took his hand?  Where was her wit and venom as he gently pulled her closer to his chest and began to slow dance with her? Just like that, her defenses were gone.

Whatever concerns she had about getting back home, about this strange little town, about where exactly her and Eric stood had melted away. Right now all that mattered was the moment. An arm slid around the soldier’s waist, her cheek resting against his chest, letting Eric lead them as the song continued to play. 

It wasn’t a very long song, unfortunately, already more than half over by the time she had finally agreed to the dance. Just as it ended she felt him begin to pull away, no doubt to keep up his end of the promise.

“Ok, Mags...I guess I made you suffer enough. I’ll go unplu-”

Maggie tightened her embrace, keeping him from breaking away just yet. Puzzled, Eric peered down at Maggie who met his gaze.

“One more?” she asked. “Your taste isn’t that bad.”

#ooc #drabble #I'm trying to will myself to put actual effort into the rest of the story #I just slapped this together

[fixyourwritinghabits]

How to Tell If That Post of Advice Is AI Bullshit

Right, I wasn't going to write more on this, but every time I block an obvious AI-driven blog, five more clutter up the tags. So this is my current (April 2024) advice on how to spot AI posts passing themselves off as useful writing advice.

No Personality - Look up a long-running writing blog, you'll notice most people try to make their posts engaging and coming from a personal perspective. We do this because we're writers and, well, we want to convey a sense of ourselves to our readers. A lot of AI posts are straight-forward - no sense of an actual person writing them, no variation in tone or text.

No Examples - No attempts to show how pieces of advice would work in a story, or cite a work where you could see it in action. An AI post might tell you to describe a person by highlighting two or three features, and that's great, but it's hard to figure out how that works without an example.

Short, Unhelpful Definitions - A lot of what I've seen amount to two or three-sentence listicles. 'When you want to write foreshadowing, include a hint of what you want foreshadowed in an earlier chapter.' Cool beans, could've figured that out myself.

SEO/AI Prompt Language Included - I've seen way too many posts start with "this post is about..." or "now we will discuss..." or "in this post we will..." in every single blog. This language is meant to catch a search engine or is ChatGPT reframing the prompt question. It's not a natural way of writing a post for the average tumblr user.

Oddly Clinical Language - Right, I'm calling out that post that tried to give advice on writing gay characters that called us "homosexuals" the entire time. That's a generative machine trying to stay within certain parameters, not an actual person who knows that's not a word you'd use unless you were trying to be insulting or dunking on your own gay ass in the funniest way possible.

Too Perfect - Most generative AI does not make mistakes (this is how many a student gets caught trying to use it to cheat). You can find ways to make it sound more natural and have it make mistakes, but that takes time and effort, and neither of those are really a factor in these posts. They also tend to have really polished graphics and use the same format every time.

Maximized Tags (That Are Pointless) - Anyone who uses more than 10 one-word tags is a cop. Okay, fine, I'm joking, but there's a minimal amount of tags that are actually useful when promoting a post. More tags are not going to get a post noticed by the algorithm, there is no algorithm. Not everyone has to use their tags to make snarky comments, but if your tags look like a spambot, I'm gonna assume you're a spambot.

No Reblogs From The Rest of Writblr - I'm always finding new Writblr folks who have been around for awhile, but every real person I've seen reblogs posts from other people. We've all got other stuff to do, I'm writing this blog to help others and so are they, the whole point of tumblr is to pass along something you think is great.

While you'll probably see some variation in the future - as people get wise to obviously generated text, they'll try to make it look less generated - but overall, there's still going to be tells to when something is fake.

I don't have any real advice for what to do about this (other than block those blogs, which is what I do). Like most AI bullshit, I suspect most of these blogs are just another grift, attempting to build large follower counts to leverage or sell something to in the future. They may progress past these tattletale features, but I'm still going to block them when I see them. I don't see any value in writing advice compiled from the work of better writers who put the effort in when I can just go find those writers myself.

#writblr #AI Bullshit #The State of Things These Days

[veronicaphoenix]

Title: Into the Abyss of Bad Habits — Epilogue | Words: 16.4k

Author's note: Get yourselves a few cups of coffee ready (or tea, for those who are more into it or have an addiction like myself) because this is super long and it's full of sweetness, fluff, and horny men utterly in love with their girl.

This takes place a year and a half after part 3.

Tags & trigger warnings: polyamorous relationship, three people totally in love with each other that go on a very-much-deserved vacation, a bit of implied angst at the beginning, but mostly kinky men, men tied-up, sexual content including p in v (unprotected), oral (both m. and f. receiving), face-sitting, accidental biting, light choking, implied anal sex, dirty talk, praise kink, (a lot of kinks actually, if you start squinting), and probably another bunch of things that I'm forgetting because this epilogue is really long, so forgive me.

This is dedicated to @blessedwithabadomen because without her, half of this fic would probably not exist. Thank you for your constant support and love on this work, and for helping me sort out the writing for the last parts of this story, and for your reassurance whenever I was drowning in self-doubt 🥹 Also, please, if you haven't, go check out her story: In love with the mess. You will truly not be disappointed, and it's just about to get so so so good! Couldn't feel more blessed and thankful for the effort and dedication she's putting into that work ✨ Thank you, L. 🤍

A year and a half later 

London, United Kingdom

Heathrow Airport was buzzing with activity when our plane touched down from LAX in the late afternoon. 

            Noah and I had purposely booked a night flight to ease our jetlag once we hit the UK. It was one of those rare times we were traveling purely for some well-deserved vacation, a break from the hectic schedules of work and touring with Bad Omens. But despite spending the night in the plane, Noah was desperate to unclip his seat belt, get out of the airport with a strong coffee in hand, get to the hotel, and throw himself on the bed. Trying to catch some sleep on the flight was always a struggle for him with his long frame squished into those tiny seats. And I wasn't exactly well-rested either; but I was too excited to see Oliver.

            Our last time together —the three of us— had been nearly two months back in the US at a festival where Bring Me The Horizon and Bad Omens were playing. Even though we were all committed to the relationship and always managed to make time for each other —traveling back and forth whenever possible—, those chance encounters were always a bonus and we enjoyed them all the same. 

            We were still figuring out how to deal with the distance. BMTH had been around for a while, so Oliver had more freedom to move from one place to another, hence why we had been talking about him moving over to the States. We had, in fact, checked some houses in different neighborhoods a while ago, but we hadn’t decided anything yet, beginning with the fact that we had a budget and the houses we saw exceeded it, especially the one I fell in love with. Moving to the UK ourselves wasn't really on the cards, not with Bad Omens still climbing their way to the top and Noah’s and I’s residence being in the America.

            For the past couple of months, we'd been counting down the days until we could see Oliver again. Noah wasn’t very vocal about it, but he was just as eager as I was. Right now, however, he was probably just thinking about grabbing the hotel room key and crashing out in bed for a solid night's sleep. The streets of London could wait for us until next morning. 

            Despite how good things were now, there had been tough days, of course.

            When the UK NextGen tour ended, Oliver wasted no time in buying a plane ticket to join us for the last week of Bad Omens' tour across Europe. However, once the end approached, the farewell was imminent. Noah and I were eager to return home. He was obviously more exhausted than the rest of us. He lacked hours of sleep, and his body was beginning to feel the strain.

            The farewell was bittersweet. There were tears and hugs that lingered too long. What hurt the most was witnessing the final embrace between Noah and Oliver.

            During the time we spent together in Europe, their relationship had grown significantly. The fact that the three of us were in a polyamorous relationship played a big part, but it also seemed like they had found each other after a long time as friends. On one occasion, during one of Bad Omens' day off in Europe, I found the two of them napping in the hotel room when I had slipped away to the nearest Starbucks for a Caramel Macchiato. The sight of them lost in their dreams, cuddled up next to each other in bed, was so tender that it felt like my heart would burst. I kept a picture of that moment stored safely on my phone. 

            Nevertheless, however peaceful that moment was, there were hard moments that had to happen for us to be where we stood right now. There was jealousy, of course. While I never stopped feeling loved by both of them, even when they had their moments and spent hours away from me, focused on their work and making music together, the feeling wasn't the same for Oliver and Noah. It was inevitable because an ocean separated us, and at some point they started feeling that I spent more time with the other. Their heated argument in Oliver’s house the previous summer had thankfully resolved this issue, regardless of both ending up sleeping on the sofa. The good thing about that week in Sheffield was that the drop that spilled the cup killed two birds in one go, resolving the tension that had been building between Noah and Oliver because they refused to acknowledge that they wanted each other the same way they wanted me. 

The image of both of them angry was not a pretty one. Seeing them unleash those demons on stage could be very fun and exciting, but when it was at home, it wasn't pleasant at all. Luckily, we were in a much better place right now and that was part of the past. After that heated fight that nearly got physical, things got so much better. During that trip, we canceled the plans we had for the few days we had left in Sheffield, and decided to spend them holed up at Oliver's house, focusing on resolving our issues, insecurities, and fears, and making up for the lack of affection from the previous days. The reconciliation was so effusive that every time after discussing doubts and possible conflicts that might arise and the solution to these, we ended up having wild sex, and by the time our time together came to an end, we had blessed every corner and nook of Oliver's house, we had used up three boxes of condoms, and we had left the marks of our hands and knees on glass, furniture, and windows.

            This time, a year later, the plan was to  embark on a road trip to the Lake District, where Oliver had booked a chalet. Sheffield was on the way, so we would make a quick stop to pick up Luna. But first, we were to stay in London for three days. I had booked tickets to the Jack the Ripper Museum and to the Harry Potter studios, and I wanted to get to know the city a bit better, so I had planned a route along the Thames and through Camden Town.  

            The moment I spotted Oliver standing right outside the arrival gates at the airport, his smile widened, mirroring mine. Leaving Noah with the luggage, I hurried over to him, and he caught me in his arms. I wrapped my limbs around him, inhaling his scent, feeling his warmth and every other thing offered by his sole being. 

            “Hi, love,” he greeted. 

            “Hi,” I responded, giving him a gentle kiss. “I missed you.”

            “So have I,” Noah chimed in from behind, his voice sounding a tad annoyed as he maneuvered the trolley laden with our suitcases. “I’m the one that needs to be held, by the way.”

            With a laugh, I disentangled myself from Oliver and watched as he closed the distance to Noah. Their embrace was tight, their kiss passionate, and I couldn’t help but grin at the sight. 

            “Long flight?” Oliver inquired. 

            “Just like every other time, but it’s not the flight that’s the issue,” Noah replied. 

            “It’s the long legs,” I interjected.

            “We’ll book you a masseur once we’re at the hotel,” Oliver suggested, wrapping his arm around Noah’s shoulders. 

            I furrowed my brow at the suggestion.

            “Noah doesn’t need a masseur,” I stated, feeling offended. Stepping back slowly as we started to move towards the exit, I kept my eyes on them. They both seemed to find my reaction amusing, their grins widening. I couldn’t help but soften, a smile betraying my feigned offense. 

            Oliver reached out and tousled my hair, which I didn’t mind. After the long flight, I was already a mess. I sidled up next to him, tilting my head to kiss his jaw as the three of us made our way out of the airport. 

As soon as we stepped into the hotel room in London, Noah dropped his bags and collapsed face-first onto the extra-large bed. Following suit, Oliver removed Noah’s shoes from his feet, which dangled over the edge of the bed. It always struck me how Noah managed to make everything seem small in comparison. 

            Oliver removed Noah’s socks and began massaging his tired feet, paying no mind to the fact that both Noah and I desperately needed a shower. Despite offering to make him coffee or order food, Noah declined, already on the brink of sleep. Before drifting off, however, he mentioned that I must be hungry and suggested Oliver and I go out to eat while he took a nap. 

            With that, Oliver and I left Noah to rest (ensuring to hang the ‘do not disturb’ sign on the door) and set out to find a nearby spot for a quick meal. Despite the weariness of our journey, the stroll was a welcome relief for my legs. As we walked, Oliver would occasionally reach out to take my hand, his touch sending a warm flutter through me. He would also point out little details of the cityscape that he knew I would appreciate while filling me up with updates from work and about his family.

            Eventually, we settled for a vegan cheese roll with falafels from a quaint street vendor. As we sat on a bench, heleaned in close, brushing a strand of hair away from my face with gentle fingers. The simple act sent a shiver down my spine, and I couldn't help but lean into his touch, feeling the weight of the journey melt away in his presence.

            By the time we finished eating, my head was resting on Oliver's shoulder, and I could feel myself drifting off, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of the city. We felt like carefree teenagers who had just escaped from class but weren’t quite ready to head home yet. Despite the usual surge of excitement that swept over me whenever the three of us were reunited in the same city, my body felt drained. No matter how hard I tried to summon energy from within, each bite of food seemed to weigh me down further, and Oliver’s constant attentiveness, his arms wrapping around me at every opportunity, only intensified the sensation. 

            “How is he doing?” He asked suddenly, his fingers trailing gently along the curve of my skull. He was referring to Noah. 

            In an instant, memories flooded back, a torrent of emotions crashing against the walls of my mind. Bad Omens was on a deadline to get their new record ready before summer’s end, and the pressure had ensnared Noah in a relentless grasp. Consumed by his passion, as typical of him, he had neglected his mental health, and us. Noah had moved into my apartment during the summer before, but the moment he started working intensively in new music, he had practically moved back to the confines of the house he shared with Jolly, Jesse, and Orie. What began as weekday absences soon stretched into weekends lost, then an entire month slipped through and we hadn’t spent not even one night in each other’s arms. He was going to the gym and keeping track of his diet, but the problem was that he was not taking a break. Of course, we were having sex, but sometimes it felt devoid of passion, as if it was a job that had to be done and left me adrift in a sea of longing. He had also started to miss Oliver’s calls, especially the ones after I had talked to Oliver myself and I had cried over the phone, asking him to please come to Los Angeles or get me on a flight to England.  

            “Much better,” I murmured, drawing in a breath heavy with the weight of the obstacles we’d had to overcome the previous months. 

            Memories of the night in which I couldn’t hold it any longer flooded my senses. I had been in Noah’s house, waiting for an hour for a date that he had obviously forgotten about. When tears started cascading down my cheeks, Jolly and Jesse intervened and got his ass out of the studio. Noah’s eyes were red and his hair greasy. 

            “I guess seeing me having a breakdown did something to him. He looked shaken. Scared, even. And after that…” I sighed, relieved. “He's trying harder now, focusing on everything else that also matters.” Us. “He talked to his therapist and he’s managing things in a different way. He’s going to be okay. And we’ll be ok, too.”

            Looking into Oliver’s earthy eyes, I could see his relief. He had been absent most of those difficult times, and he’d been worried about Noah and about me, his concern also getting the worst of him at times. At some point he’d been this close to dropping his own job stuff and getting on a plane to come be with me and give Noah a good spanking. Thankfully, it never came to that. Things got better. Now, we were reunited again, the three of us. We were better, trying every day, and supporting each other through our imperfections.  

            As we made our way back to the hotel room an hour later, I stopped at a Starbucks to get a cup of Noah’s favorite coffee. I hadn’t been able to resist a few sips, the familiar taste being a comforting distraction from my fatigue. 

            Noah was awake and fresh from a shower when we entered the room, emerging from the bathroom wrapped in a towel that barely covered him from the waist down, his damp hair clinging to his temples and forehead. Even though I had witnessed this sight countless times before and could conjure it up in my mind whenever I pleased, it never failed to stir something primal within me. 

            “I brought you coffee,” I managed to say, my throat feeling suddenly dry as I handed him the cup. 

            “My angel,” he replied, his lips curling into a grateful smile as he took the Starbucks cup from my hand and brought it to his lips. 

            His gaze shifted to Oliver as he sipped the coffee. Oliver approached him, passing by me with a mischievous half-smile, and ran a finger down Noah’s chest, trailing down to his navel. Before he could say anything, Noah’s free hand shot out, gripping Oliver’s wrist, preventing him from venturing any further. 

            “Let me finish my coffee first,” Noah murmured, his voice low and husky. 

            Oliver responded with a throaty laugh, the sound sending a jolt of anticipation coursing through the room. 

            I couldn’t find rest until nightfall came. Despite my insistence that Noah and Oliver let me catch some much-needed sleep in bed while they entertained themselves on the sofa in the room, they conspired together to convince me otherwise. They argued that it would be better for me to expend the last of my energy and then enjoy a more restful deeper sleep. 

            As if our first night together each time we reunited was ever a night of rest, of course. 

            How naïve I was to entertain such notion, considering that I always allowed them to have their way with me both before and after dinner. 

The first day in London was a whirlwind, leaving Noah and me feeling drained and struggling to regain our footing. The subsequent days, thankfully, unfolded at a gentler pace. We indulged in the luxury of sleeping in and enjoying breakfast in our room, accompanied by tender moments of cuddling, sweet kisses, and the occasional lustful touch. 

            While I briefly talked to my brother on the phone the second morning, Noah took out his MacBook from his bag and started working, which caused Oliver to scold him because we had all agreed that this vacation would be work-free. I couldn't help but shoot Noah a disapproving look, too, which quickly transformed into a gentle shoulder rub and a heartfelt conversation. I couldn’t stay mad at him for too long. I reminded him that he didn't need to be so hard on himself and that it was perfectly acceptable to disconnect from work for a while. Nothing would happen. 

            I understood, though, that part of Noah’s reluctance to let go stemmed from his deep-seated fear of everything that he had built crashing down the moment he stepped away from his responsibilities. For months —even years— I’d been trying to help him to get rid of this fear, but Noah’s stubbornness matched his dedication to his work. Bad Omens was everything to him. When he had nothing, he had the band. I knew I wasn’t the perfect role model in this regard, but I was making an effort to help him let go, offering some reassurance that morning in London as I massaged his tense shoulders and tempted him with the multitude of activities we could do during our time in the city. 

I’d been to Camden Town before, but spending the day with Oliver and Noah proved to me much more fun and memorable. We lost ourselves in the maze of market stalls, where eccentric vendors tried to sell their stuff with infectious enthusiasm, and stumbled upon a booth selling quirky hats and accessories, where we tried on an assortment of those, collapsing into fits of laughter as we admired ourselves in the mirrors. 

            But the highlight of that day came when we stumbled upon a street performer—a magician with gloved hands and a twinkle in his eyes. He made us stop by pointing towards me insistently with a finger. I would have ignored it weren’t it for Oliver, who pulled me, and per consequent, Noah, who has holding onto my other hand, to stand in front of the man. He took out a deck of cards from his pocket, and without uttering a word, he made me choose one of them. I couldn’t see them for they were facing down. I didn’t take long to choose one and flip it around to be met with a card called the Ace of Pentacles. I raised an eyebrow, for I had no clue what it meant, and by the look on Oliver and Noah’s faces, they didn’t know, either. 

            For the first time, the magician spoke with a grin on his face. 

            “Something new will be offered to you, young lady.” 

            “Something new?” I repeated automatically. 

            Noah let go of my hand. When I turned to him, he was glaring at the man with a mix of suspicion and disbelief. The man moved his eyebrows up and down as he stared at Oliver and Noah. I followed the movement of his eyes, expecting either one of the boys to say something to me. 

            But they said nothing. Oliver handed the man a few coins and pulled me away from him.       “What was that about?” I asked as he hurried me through the people crowding the alleyways. 

            “Just some street magic,” Oliver replied, his tone casual, but his eyes betraying a hint of unease. 

            Noah, still struggling to keep pace with Oliver’s determined strides, wrapped his arms around me from behind. “Yeah, just a gimmick,” he chimed in, his voice a soft murmur against my hair. 

            “He was definitely trying to tell me something.”

            Oliver glanced at me, his brow furrowing slightly. “It’s just a street performer, love. They say things to entertain.” 

            “He was probably just trying to keep the act interesting,” Noah added. 

            “That’s why you’re both trying so hard to dismiss his words?” 

            “That’s what you think we’re doing?” Noah replied.

            “You’re being blatantly obvious.” 

            Oliver shared a look with Noah and then shook his head. I slapped his chest, demanding his attention. He replied by wrapping his arms around me and muttering his next words between gritted teeth. 

            “Just let it go, babydoll. Don’t be so stubborn and let things be.” They were definitely hiding something, but it was also obvious that they were not going to say anything. “How about we grab something to eat? I’m starving.”

            The idea of food was a welcome distraction, and I nodded eagerly in agreement. 

            Together, we weaved our way through the maze of food stalls, the tantalizing aroma of various cuisines wafting through the air. We settled in when we found a free spot, and the tension seemed to dissipate. 

            But try as I might, I couldn't shake the nagging suspicion that the cryptic words from that man had a meaning, maybe something that somehow involved Oliver and Noah, and perhaps even me. I had more reason to believe that when I caught them talking about it again after they thought I had wandered to a vintage toys stall in the underground area of Camden Town. 

            “That was some creepy shit back there, man,” Noah said to him. “How the hell did he know?”

            “He didn’t know anything,” Oliver retorted, trying to sound confident in his words, but he failed miserably, and he knew it. 

            “Dude,” Noah replied, insistent. “I saw the look on your face.”

            “Well, I prefer to ignore it, or better: let’s get her s—…”

            I couldn’t grasp the rest of the conversation because a group of teenagers accidentally pushed me and pulled me further from Noah and Oliver, dragging me to the opposite side of the shop with useless apologies and giggles. I sent them a sullen look and made my way out, looking for my boys. 

            I found them after a few minutes, coming out from a packed shop in a corner that was surrounded from every corner, top, bottom, and sides, by merchandising from different movies, series, and bands.          

            Noah was putting his wallet  back in the front pocket of his jeans while Oliver carried a quite big box. I raised an eyebrow. 

            “What did you buy?” I asked when I was in front of them. The three of us moved slightly to the side to let the tourists move through the narrow alleys. 

            “Something for you,” Oliver said. “Noah told me you’ve spent the last couple of weeks watching Chucky so…”

            “We got you a Tiffany,” Noah finished as Oliver faced the front of the box to me. 

            I blinked as the replica of Tiffany Valentine stared back at me with her singular smile. She was dressed in her wedding gown and a biker’s jacket, and she looked just as malicious as she was in the movies.

            “Oh, my God, guys,” I held the box, keeping it at a fair distance to examine the details of the doll. “This must have costed a fortune. What were you thinking?!”

            “That crazy guy back there said that something would be offered to you so… I guess he was right, after all,” Noah replied.

            I licked my lips and looked at them with a face that said, “seriously?”. But how could I neglect the joy at the fact that they had thought about gifting me a collectible of this magnitude?

            “Where are we going to keep her? In the room? You’ll both get freaked out in the middle of the night if you get up to go to the bathroom.” 

            “We’ll go together, holding hands,” Oliver joked. 

            And with our laughs mixing with the sounds of the market, we moved forward. 

            Come evening, we made our way back to the city center and enjoyed a warm copious meal in a restaurant in Covent Garden. 

            The next day, walking along the banks of the Thames, hand in hand with my boys, the whispering breeze brushing against our skin, we sipped hot chocolates. I was holding Oliver’s hand while relishing in the drink when I noticed Noah walking angrily at a certain distance. I let go of Oliver’s hand, earning a shocked look from him. 

            “You can’t both hold one of my hands and still expect me to hold a cup of hot chocolate. Don’t be so dramatic.” 

            With our voices mingling with the voices of other tourists and pedestrians, we walked the long way from Westminster to the Tower Bridge, sharing stolen kisses. While in London, we also hopped on the Jack the Ripper tour,shivering with excitement and clinging to each other as we delved into the city's darker past. Then, to lighten the mood, we ventured to the Harry Potter Studios, where Oliver couldn't resist teasing Noah relentlessly, suggesting how good he would look with Harry Potter’s glasses and a tunic, with nothing underneath. Noah's flushed cheeks and playful slaps on Oliver's chest only fueled the laughter that echoed through the magical halls.

The day we left London in Oliver’s Range Rover had me feeling a bit jittery, especially after we made our pit stop in Sheffield for lunch and to pick up Luna before heading to Cumbria. 

            While I busied myself with packing groceries that Oliver had in the fridge and that would expire soon, I overheard the boys chatting upstairs. Being the naturally curious (and maybe slightly nosy person that I was when it came to those two), I had the intuition that they were discussing something they didn’t want me to hear. It wouldn’t have been the first time they’d done that, after all. Plus, I still remembered that one time they argued and roared like lions to each other in this very room, accusing each other of hogging all my time. 

            I climbed the stairs, Luna trotting faithfully behind me with her tail wagging happily. When I peeked into Oliver’s study —a spot where he and Noah often locked themselves to work together—, I found them both bent over the computer screen, looking all serious. But as they noticed me, Oliver quickly closed his laptop. 

            “Is something wrong?” I inquired casually.

            “Nothing,” they replied simultaneously, their responses lacking conviction.  

            Noah brushed past me, planting a quick kiss on the crown of my head before smoothly transitioning to ask about our trip preparations. It was clear that he was attempting to steer the conversation away. 

            “What were you talking about?” I pressed. 

            “Work,” Oliver replied tersely, his tone final. “I’m sorry. That was the last of it. We’ll stay away from all of it during the trip.” 

            You better, I wanted to reply. 

            However, I wasn’t entirely convinced, and not in regards to this last statement. Perhaps they were simply hashing out some night scenario that involved sex toys and all those things they liked to use when the three of us were in bed. The thought momentarily eased my apprehension, though a part of me couldn’t shake the feeling that they were hiding something.  

The trip to Cumbria took about two hours from Sheffield. We made a brief stop in a rural village to allow Luna a chance to stretch her legs while we refueled the car and enjoyed a cup of coffee and a snack. 

            Arriving at the chalet by Ullswater Lake just after five in the afternoon, the warm glow of the summer sun still lingered, promising us a few more hours of daylight to enjoy. After receiving the keys from the chalet host and familiarizing ourselves with the property, we decided to take a walk by the lakeside and play with Luna, who seemed even more static than the three of us at the prospect of spending a few days away from home.

            The serenity of the countryside quickly enveloped us, offering a respite from the hustle and bustle of our lives in the city. While Oliver and Noah unloaded the luggage, I decided to stay on the porch, basking in the new surroundings and peaceful ambiance. All I could hear was the birdsong, the rustle of leaves, and the gentle lapping of water against the shore. 

            “Doll, you comin’ in?” Oliver’s voice broke through my moment of enchantment as he enveloped me in his arms.

            “Yeah,” I replied with contentment, leaning into his touch. 

            “We’re going to have a good time here,” he mused. 

            I hummed in agreement, savoring the intimacy of the moment and wrapping my arms around my middle, where his kept me securely pressed against his chest. 

            “Especially our pretty boy back there,” he teased, casting a playful glance over his shoulder towards the inside of the house, where Noah was. 

            “Thank you for doing this for him,” I acknowledged.

            “I know he needs it the most, but this is for all of us,” he explained, a hint of exhaustion creeping into his voice as he recalled the challenging months leading up to this moment. “We haven’t had proper holidays the three of us together since… forever.”

            “We’ve been dating for a year and a half,” I reminded him, unable to suppress a smile at his melodramatic flair.  

            He responded with a mock growl, his actions sparking laughter between us. 

            “Come on, let’s go in. You’re going to love the bedroom.”

            He led the way inside. 

            The interior of the house had a rustic charm, with wooden planks adorning the walls and ceiling. The sofa faced the towering windows that stretched from floor to ceiling, offering an uninterrupted vista of the swaying trees and the tranquil expanse of the lake, its surface shimmering in the dappled sunlight. There was also a stone fireplace (not that we would use it, but it added to the coziness of the house). Adjacent to the living room, the kitchen lay open and inviting. Noah had left the food bag on the countertop, next to a water-filled vase that held a bouquet of white flowers that the host had placed right that morning, as a welcoming sign.  

            There was one guest bathroom and, inside the suite, a main one with a bathtub. The suite had a grandiose plush bed dominating the space. Either Oliver or Noah had placed the Tiffany doll box in the middle of it, propped against the bunch of pillows that were calling to me.

            Noah was crouched by the tall windows on the far end, taking out some stuff and clothes from his bag when Oliver and me made our way in. 

            “It’s practically begging you to dive in, isn’t it?” Noah chimed in from the floor, gesturing towards the bed. Opposite the bed, a large mirror hung on the wall, the reflective surface capturing the play of light and shadow that danced through the room.

            Beside Noah, there was a cozy long divan. For an innocent instant, I conceived the idea of laying there with a book in my hands and a steamy cup of tea next to it, totally unaware that I would be propped there in all fours with no book nearby in less than twenty-four hours. 

After the evening walk, we entertained ourselves preparing a light dinner meal that would suit everyone’s tastes. Balancing Oliver's vegan diet and Noah's muscle-building goals wasn't always easy, but we managed. I wasn’t too picky myself, so I was happy with whatever was on the menu.

            With dinner done, we headed out to the porch overlooking the lake. Feeling witchy, I prepared a pot of lavender tea and served us a cup each. By eleven o’clock we were comfortably settled, wrapped in hoodies and blankets in the chairs provided. Noah was snug in one of his hoodies, but Oliver was barefoot, though. We talked for a while, going over through the activities that we would do while in Cumbria. The moment I noticed that the talk was steering back towards work-related topics, I brought back the talk about the house. We’d been thinking about moving in together and find a place in Los Angeles, and even though we had gone house hunting a few times, we couldn’t seem to agree on one house, and I had the nagging feeling inside of me that maybe Oliver and Noah were still not ready to take that step, even if we would spend half of the time away from each other with their tours and Oliver having his family and most of his life in England.  

            As the night deepened, our chatter gradually subsided, giving way to a peaceful silence that allowed me to take in the things I should be grateful for. 

            With a contented smile on my face, I looked at my boys one last time before allowing sleep to take over me. One of them lifted me into their arms and guided me into the house and to the bed. It didn’t matter which one it was. They both felt like home whenever I was tucked against their bodies. 

            They were home. 

It was ten thirty in the morning when I came out from the bedroom, where I had been rummaging through my clothes looking for the swimming piece I had recently bought. My heart swelled with a mixture of tenderness and concern as I found Noah seated on the sofa, his brow furrowed in a deep frown as he stared intently at his MacBook screen. I told him so many times to leave the laptop back at Oli’s house, but to hell if he would ever listen when it came to these things…            Without a word, I approached him, my fingers finding his back and gently starting to massage his tense shoulders. A soft sight of contentment escaped his lips at the touch, but it was clear that the burdens weighing on his mind ran deeper than simple muscle tension. 

            Outside, the joyful sound of Oliver’s voice drifted in through the open door, accompanied by Luna’s excited barks as they played fetch by the water. Through the windows, I watched as Oliver, shirtless and with his hair all over the place, tossed the ball into the water, Luna running after it without hesitation and jumping into the lake. 

            A minute later, Oliver was in the water, too. 

            “Let’s go,” I said to Noah with encouragement, releasing his shoulders. 

            He turned his head to me with a dramatic pout. I just gave him a look and proceeded to lift his MacBook from his lap, placing it on the coffee table before taking Noah’s hand and guiding him towards the door. 

            Finally outside, Luna’s eager bark greeted us from the water. She emerged from the shore and trotted to us, her wet white fur glistening in the sunlight as droplets flew through the air. I reached out to pet her head, feeling the cool moisture against my skin, while Noah crouched down to squash her cheeks and shower her with affectionate whispers. 

            I shed the thin beach robe I wore and left it draped over the armrest of one of the wooden chairs that Oliver had moved to the deck earlier that morning. With my hair cascading down my back, I made my way to the edge, oblivious to the lingering stares of the two men, one behind me, the other one already in the water. I dipped my hand into the water before diving in headfirst. 

            As I submerged beneath the surface, the weight of the world seemed to lift from my shoulders, replaced by a sense of weightlessness and freedom. I swam further from the deck, distancing myself from Oliver. My limbs moved in harmony with the rhythm of the water. In the distance, the silhouette of another house peeked through the trees, a solitary boat resting on its landing. The only sounds were the distant barking of a dog that wasn’t Luna and the gentle rustle of leaves. 

            Just as I was about to start swimming back to where I had last seen Oliver, I found him and Noah already in the water, their smiles radiant in the sunlight as they swam towards me. 

            Noah dipped his head, and as he came back to the surface he shook his head, causing water from his hair to splash in my face. I shielded my face with my hands, laughing. In no time, he had me wrapped in his embrace, peppering my neck with kisses. I hugged him tightly with my arms and legs around him. Moments later, Noah gently nudged me towards Oliver, who pulled me close with a perfect smile.  

            With his hair being longer, Oliver's locks cascaded around his face. I lovingly pushed them back, tucking them behind his ears, and I couldn't help but laugh at how different he looked with his wet hair slicked back. He said something as he raised an eyebrow, but his words were drowned out by Luna's leap from the dock. With a tennis ball clutched in her mouth, she swam over to us. Noah grabbed the ball and threw it far, prompting Luna to paddle after it will all her might. For the next hour, we played with her, reveling in the simple joy of the morning. After the tumultuous year we had endured, both personally and professionally, this vacation felt like a much-needed oasis in the desert.

            I felt a swell of pride, not just in myself, but in the two incredible men I was sharing my life with. 

            After a while, I found myself in Noah's arms again, letting him rock me side to side in the water, my head resting against his shoulder, my skin wrinkling from all the time we'd spent in the lake. Noah and Oliver were talking about a festival anecdote from the previous year in Milan, while Oliver absentmindedly toyed with Luna’s worn tennis ball. She was lounging lazily in the sun on the deck. But the boy’s conversation eventually dwindled into silence, a quietness that I only noticed when I felt Oliver’s chest against my back, his lips pressing a tender kiss to my shoulder. I smiled, nestled against Noah’s body.

            Suddenly, Oliver’s hand, which had previously been resting on my waist, slid down to the seam of my bikini bottom, making me gasp. Noah was observing my reaction with a mischievous grin. Two seconds later, he deftly located the strings of my bikini top and skillfully untied the knot.  

            My questions about what they were doing went unanswered. 

            A wave of panic surged within me when the two pieces of clothing were removed from my body and I was suddenly naked in the water. I looked over my shoulder to Oliver only to find him swimming back towards the deck. Panicking, I looked at Noah. I was about to tighten my grip on him when he disentangled my limbs from his body, kissed me on the lips quickly, and also started swimming away from me.

            “Guys?”

            No reply.

            “Guys!” I screamed, my voice barely above a whisper, my eyes scanning the surroundings to make sure we were alone.

            With no preamble, they got out of the water, meeting on the deck with my bikini pieces in hand, exchanging amused glances before turning their attention towards me, floating in the lake with wide eyes, trying to understand what the purpose of this was. Laughing, they headed towards the chairs, Oliver pausing at the outdoor shower to cleanse himself. Before turning on the water, he tossed my bikini bottom to Noah, who caught it in a swift movement of his arm.  

            “Are you kidding me?” I muttered to myself as I watched Oliver enjoy his shower and Noah have fun examining my bikini with an interested look on his face, as if it was something he had never seen before. 

            Nervously, I kept glancing around me, aware that if someone decided to come out from those houses in the distance or some people in a boat drove past this place they would see me, for the water was clear enough to reveal my nudity. 

            This wasn’t fun. Or at least not until I realized they had no intention of returning my swimming suit. The spectacle was too engaging for them to give it up so soon.  

            I licked my lips in a nervous attempt at sorting out my options. As much as I enjoyed letting them do these things, they were pulling on my strings, and you know that saying ‘two can play at a game’? Well, three can play, too. 

            So, I swam my way back to the shore and climbed the ladder, letting the water cascade off my body, down my breasts and my legs. I stood at the edge for a moment to sweep my hair back, relishing in the stunned expressions on their faces as their eyes scanned my bare body on display.  

            Yes, they had expected me to stay in the water and beg for my bikini. 

            Without sparing them a glance, I walked confidently back to the house, grabbing my towel on the way and wrapping it around me. As I entered the house, I looked back one last time to see their mouths agape.  

            I stuck my tongue out at them and headed towards the shower in the bedroom’s bathroom. 

It had not even been twenty minutes since I stepped into the bathroom to wash myself. While drying my hair, I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror, sporting a naughty smile. The dirty girl in me was just waiting for the provocation to pay off. 

            What took me by surprise was how quickly the anticipated scenario unfolded the moment I opened the bathroom door.  

            I wasn't even given time to look forward to the night. 

            Oliver and Noah were standing in the doorway leading to the bedroom, each casually leaning against one side, still wearing their trunks and their hair still slightly damp. They looked at me expectantly, wicked smiles playing on their lips.  

            It looked like a scene straight out of a movie, really. These things rarely happened in real life. 

            Knowing that minutes of pleasure awaited us –or perhaps hours (I was allowed to be optimistic)–, I provocatively slipped a finger into my mouth, teasingly nibbling on the tip while fluttering my eyelashes a couple of times. 

            Oliver's eyes traced a path up and down my figure, lingering on the expanse of my legs where the hem of Noah’s white t-shirt I had borrowed ended. Little did he know, I wasn’t wearing any panties, just like the time we attended my brother’s Jack engagement party. My mind had truly turned into a perverted thing. Just thinking about what we had done during that evening made me shiver with anticipation, imagining what could unfold today. 

            “Get on the bed.”

            The command didn’t come from Oliver or Noah, bur from my own lips. The startled expressions on their faces made the courage it took me to assert myself like that in their presence totally worth it. 

            Noah arched an eyebrow. 

            “What did you say?” 

            “You heard me,” I replied, unable to suppress the smile that crept onto my face despite the efforts to maintain an air of determination and dominance. The situation was electrifying, fueling an adrenaline rush that promised to leave me grasping for air.

            Oliver was the first to comply, albeit with a hint of reluctance, his gaze trailing me from the doorway to the expansive bed. He settled against the headboard, but I shook my head, silently motioning for him to lie down. Then, my attention turned to Noah. 

            “Noah?” My eyes met with a look that suggested he had a different idea of how things should unfold. I nearly rolled my eyes. 

            “Noah, could you please get on the bed?” I emphasized the ‘please’, hoping to appeal to his cooperation. 

            “Now that’s more like it,” he responded, finally acquiescing. 

            As I turned to retrieve something from the dresser where we had kept some of our stuff, I did roll my eyes. You might not be able to take the Dom out of Noah, but I was more than ready to keep trying, if only for the fun of it. 

            In the back of the top drawer, I found what I was looking for: two pairs of handcuffs. A smile played on my lips as I examined them before turning to face the guys. 

            They were both lying on the bed side by side, their heads slightly raised to watch me. Confusion tinged their expressions as they observed me standing there, the pair of handcuffs dangling from my fingers.           

            “What do you think you’re going to do with those?” Noah questioned as I approached him, taking his left hand and guiding it towards the bars of the bed’s headboard. 

            “It’s about time we turned the tables, don’t you think?” I replied, securing the first cuff, noticing how Noah’s expression was becoming strained. 

            “Baby, you don’t want to do this,” he protested. 

            “But you’re letting me, aren’t you?” I softened my voice, sweetening my tone. 

            Noah pursued his lips, a nervous twitch appearing in his jaw. 

            “I’d let you do anything. That doesn’t mean you have to take advantage of having me at your feet,” he argued. 

            “Don’t you think I deserve a little payback for you leaving me naked in the lake?”

            “You didn’t seem too upset when you came out of the water, doll,” Oliver interjected, lounging back to enjoy the interaction between me and Noah.  

            “A woman has to learn to govern herself, especially is she’s with two perverts like you two.”

            “I’m not a pervert,” Noah protested again. 

            Click. With both wrists now secured to the bed, from my position at the foot of the bed, the image looked tantalizing. But it was evident that Noah wasn’t comfortable not being the one in control. While my initial intent was merely revenge, I began to consider that perhaps this could end up helping Noah relax and let go. He was a control freak and a perfectionist, qualities I benefited from, but which could also burden him. 

            Noah tested the strength of the restraints, growing more frustrated as he realized his attempts were futile. The handcuffs were sturdy; they weren’t freaking toys.  

            I wasn’t too sure that Noah would withstand what I wanted to do to him without starting to plead for release, but it was worth a try. 

            “Dude, you are a perv,” Oliver said. 

            “Just because I enjoy sex and having fun during it doesn’t make me a perv,” Noah defended. 

            “Are you sure about that?” The other man challenged him.

            “Absolutely. Call me whatever you want, just not a pervert.”

            “Kinky lover?” I suggested. 

            “Hm. Yeah, that works for me,” He finally agreed. 

            Oliver’s laughter at the interaction ceased abruptly when I seized his wrist, securing his left hand alongside Noah’s right. 

            “What?” I spoke. “Did you think I was only going to tie up Noah? You took off my bikini bottoms,” I pointed out. 

            “Who’s laughing now, bastard?” Noah grunted. 

            Unlike Noah, Oliver submitted to being tied more readily, without making grumpy faces and pulling at the handcuffs. He simple observed with particular attention as I bound him.

            To secure his left wrist, I had to climb onto the bed and pass one leg over his lap, kneeling over his shorts. 

            “Are you not wearing any underwear?” He suddenly exclaimed. 

            Immediately, Noah’s eyes also dropped to the space between my legs. 

            I hurried to fasten the handcuffs, then stepped off the bed, pulling the shirt down to cover myself. 

            “Are your trunks still wet? I better take them off,” I suggested.

            “Yeah,” Oliver whispered, impatient and wide-eyed. “Take them off,” his words were accompanied by the not-so-subtle movement of his hips. 

            Noah, at his side, was growing increasingly hot and tense. He remained silent, only lifting his hips slightly when I indicated for him to do, allowing me to drop both their trunks to the floor. 

            To tease them a bit more, I stayed still for a moment, admiring their bodies, relishing in the sight of what they had between their legs. 

            Yeah, those were mine. 

            I licked my lips, alternating my gaze between the two. With the intensity of my stare, Oliver’s cock twitched slightly. 

            “Don’t move,” I instructed as I walked backwards towards the luggage. 

            “Is that some kind of joke?” Noah questioned, irritated.

            I retrieved a tiny light blue lingerie set from my suitcase. I hadn’t planned on wearing it until the last night, but it seemed like debuting it now could be fun. I rushed to the bathroom and locked myself in to change. 

            I didn’t spend more than five minutes there, but Oliver and Noah were growing so impatient. 

            When I opened the door, I was nervous, but at least, seeing them both securely tied to the bed alleviated some of it. 

            Their complaints dissipated the moment they saw me. As much as I would have loved to revel in a delicious torture and watch them fight against the restraints, watch their cocks grow harder and harder just by watching me, and thinking of what they might do to me and what I was going to do to them, impatience was already taking its toll on me, and the butterflies in my stomach were dancing anxiously.  

            I climbed onto the bed and positioned myself between the two bodies, placing my hands on their thighs. I caressed them, warming the skin of their legs as well as the skin of my own hands.

            I initiated the warm-up by kissing Oliver, a little reward for behaving. He responded hungrily, his roar muffled by the intensity of our kiss. Tracing my lips along his jaw and down his neck, I savored the sensation, eliciting withheld moans that mingled with the sounds of Noah’s struggles against his handcuffs.  

            I may have had only one mouth, but I had two hands.

            I slid over to Noah, offering him a smile before pressing my lips to his. As I kissed and nibbled, my right hand trailed down Oliver’s chest, tracing the patterns etched into his skin from memory, reveling in the rise and fall of his chest with each breath. When I placed my palm face down, I could feel his heart racing. 

            Noah’s contentment, however, surprised me.  

            I had expected him to beg in a hoarse, choked voice to let him go, unable to bear being at my mercy, so mine was the surprise when instead, he asked me to touch him.

            I repositioned myself, glancing at Oliver before complying with Noah’s request. 

            “Touch him, doll,” Oli said. 

            My left hand moved down Noah's chest, past his navel and through the dark pubic hair before reaching his throbbing member and encircling it with my fingers. Noah let out a sigh that held all the air he had been holding inside. I tugged at him at the same time that my mouth descended through his neck until my lips landed on one of his nipples. He sucked in a breath. His back arched a little, and I took that as a notice to use my tongue to toy with his nipple, nibble at it and suck on it, just the way he loved doing with mine. 

            “Fuck…” 

            That was a glorious sound.

            I settled at the foot of the bed, and leaned down to caress the tip of Noah’s cock with my tongue. He tilted his head back, eyes closed. He was hard as a rock. 

            Beside him, Oliver wasn’t in much different condition, but his eyes were open, and he watched with lust and a fierce hunger the movements of my tongue, lips, and fingers on Noah's cock. 

            “Watch,” I told him, “because everything I'm doing to Noah I’ll do to you next.”

            I loved Noah’s taste. It was a potent blend of masculine essence with a tinge of salty and earthly kick. A surge of pride swelled withing me each time I witnessed how deeply I aroused him. That look of total pleasure on his face? I did that.

            With my mouth on his cock, Noah’s moans filled the room, resonating through the walls. The art of sucking him off was a dance I had mastered long ago, a rhythmic symphony orchestrated by the movements of my lips and tongue, the occasionally scrap of my teeth and a tortuous suction, guided by the music of Noah’s vocalizations. 

            However, I could sense he was holding back. A furrow appeared between his brows; his struggle evident as he strained against the handcuffs. After a few minutes, a vein in his neck began to swell. Next to him, Oliver muttered a curse, his own erection hurting for being neglected while his eyes couldn’t wander away from my ministrations on our pretty boy. 

            Soon, when I felt Noah tense in my mouth, on the brink of release, I withdrew. 

            “No!” He shouted, lifting his head in a rush. “Babe, what are you doing?” His tone was desperate, evident in the rapid rise and fall of his breath. 

            Running a finger across my lips, I moistened them before shifting my focus to Oliver.           “It’s Oliver’s turn.”

            “But— I didn’t come.”

            “And you won’t. Not in my mouth. Not now.”

            His brown eyes widened further as he watched me descend, mouth open and tongue out, towards Oliver’s cock, which was already glistening with precum. 

            “Goddammit, yes…” Oliver mumbled, smiling as he finally rested his head on the pillow, more than ready to succumb to the pleasure I was going to give him. 

            But as much as I wanted to recreate myself on him, and given that I’d assured him that I would repeat the same steps as I did on Noah, it was impossible. The spectacle I had put on with Noah’s cock had already pushed Oliver to the edge. If I were to repeat the same seductive dance with him, he would come in my mouth in less than a minute. 

            And I didn’t want that. 

            Oliver was more vocal than Noah, less inhibited in his desires. Louder. He welcomed me with complete abandonment.

            He hadn’t yet fully engaged with the suction of my mouth when he strained against the handcuffs. As I lifted my head, I noticed that both he and Noah had their eyes closed and they were holding onto each other with their hands clasped together on the headboard.

            How sweet. 

            When I pulled away from Oliver, I remained kneeled between them at the foot of the bed. They were covered in a layer of sweat, their flushed cheeks and erratic breaths emphasizing their captivity—they were tied to the bed, and they were mine.  

            I felt stupidly happy. 

            “That’s it? You’re not going to let us come?” Noah queried. 

            I shrugged, my hands on my knees. 

            “Maybe if you play your cards right…”

            “You know we always do,” Oliver declared with a certain roughness in his voice, now tugging at the restraints. 

            “I’m going to release you,” I said to Noah, positioning myself over him and stretching my body so that my still covered chest hovered above his face. “But only if you promise not to pounce on me like a lion as soon as you’re free.”

            In response to my warning, he playfully pretended to want to bite me, lifting his head and opening his mouth before closing his jaw. The gesture made the three of us laugh. 

            Releasing him, Noah’ didn’t lunge at me; instead, he grabbed my head to bring our lips together. 

            “One of us is still tied. This isn’t fair,” Oliver complained, tugging on the handcuffs for emphasis. 

            Raising an eyebrow with one of Noah’s hands still on my cheek, I retorted, “Don’t talk to me about what’s not fair when I spend half of the time tied to the bed and at your mercy.” 

            “Maybe that’s exactly what we should do now,” Noah interjected. “What do you plan to do about this, huh?” He asked, gesturing towards his reddened erection. 

            “I’ll take care of that,” Oliver declared, “if this feisty kitten decides to let me go.”

            I muttered a playful ‘whiner’ as I moved to Oliver’s lap, unfastening the handcuffs, and letting them fall onto the bedside table next to the keys. In a swift movement, Oliver pushed me onto the bed, eliciting a small yelp from me. His hands swiftly went to my underwear, starting to pull them down. 

            “Are these new?” He noticed. 

            I nodded. 

            “This is fucking sexy. This color looks so good on you,” he complimented as he ironically slid down my panties, tossing them onto the floor. “I’m sure Noah is having the time of his life, aren’t you?” 

            Indeed, Noah’s eyes were roaming over my chest. Being a man who had a particular interest in the underwear I wore, he admired the details on the design of the lacy bra before leaning in to pull the fabric covering my left breast down. Then, he placed his mouth atop of the peak of my breast and licked. 

            A moan escaped my lips. 

            “Always so sweet…” he murmured against my skin, “and so responsive. It only adds to the pleasure.” 

            Yeah…

            Just as with any of their touches, the sensation was intoxicating, and I didn’t want Noah to stop, but Oliver interrupted to insist my bra was unnecessary and I should be naked, always naked. Noah readily agreed, wasting no time in attaching his lips to my breasts again as soon as I was as naked as they were.   

            “I know she’s delicious, but I told you I’d take care of you,” Oliver reminded Noah, “so get on your back.”

            With a pleased smile, Noah complied, kissing my lips one last time before laying down next to me. 

            “He doesn’t have to say please?” I teased, raising an eyebrow at Noah. 

            “Don’t be so jealous,” he said to me, extending an arm to grab my forearm. “Come here.”

            I thought he wanted me to kiss him while Oli sucked him off, maybe cuddle him, and perhaps watch him as he came undone, but then he said, “Sit on my face.” 

            Even though it wouldn’t be the first time, the proposal always made me flush. Nonetheless, I couldn’t hide my excitement, a fact that Noah was quick to notice, a big grin spreading across his face as I shifted on the mattress. 

            “You love sitting on my face, don’t you, baby?” 

            I straddled Noah’s inked chest and leaned forward, feeling his hands grip my buttocks as he helped guide me. 

            “Wait a sec,” Oliver stopped us, causing Noah to glance from the side and above my thigh and prompting me to turn my head. 

            Oliver trotted towards the door, where Luna stood, undoubtedly confused by the scene before her. 

            “You shouldn’t see this, pretty girl,” Oliver said to her. “This one here is already corrupted, but you’re still a pure soul, so I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to close the door.”

            Like the good girl she was, she didn’t say anything. 

            Oliver closed the door and took a moment to open one of the windows on the right side of the bedroom, given that the temperature was quickly escalating indoors. 

            Noah’s laughter rumbled against my thigh as he placed a kiss before refocusing his attention on me. 

            “Hold onto the headboard if you need to. Or pull at my hair, I don’t mind.”

            I took a deep breath and gripped the headboard. I felt his breath between my legs. I closed my eyes momentarily to savor the sensation of his hands enveloping my thighs, pressing me down on him, and the anticipation of what was to come. 

            When I glanced down for a moment, I caught him softly murmuring a tender ‘I love you’ before his mouth found my center.  

            And I melted. 

            Already floating on cloud nine, Oliver kneeled at the edge of the bed and grabbed Noah’s ankles, pulling him towards him. In response, Noah tugged at my legs, prompting me to extend my arms so I could still brace myself against the headboard. 

            “What a fucking glorious view,” Oliver muttered, and I could only imagine. But my thoughts were quickly replaced when Noah’s lips and tongue worked fervently on my clit. By the way his fingers dug into my skin, I knew that Oliver finally had his mouth on him. 

            Even with a window open, the temperature in the room was rosing up steadily, matching the pace of my increasing heartbeat. Noah’s tongue moved with precision, expertly teasing and tantalizing me. He knew exactly how to play with me, using the tip of his nose to rub against my clit before letting his tongue snake out and wander between my folds. 

            As our moans intertwined, Noah’s movements intensified. His focus on me unwavering even as Oliver perpetuated a delicious torture on his cock, which caused a symphony of pleasure and curses to fill the air. The momentum kept building up, with Oli taking him deeper and deeper with every bobbing of his head and scrap of his teeth. Noah pressed me down harder to his face, and the pressure and suction on the spot between my legs was growing increasingly maddening. 

            It never led to madness because at some point Noah’s teeth trapped my clit in between and a sharp cry of pain escaped from my lips, breaking the haze of our pleasure.

            The reason: Oliver had sucked his tip in a way that nearly made him lose his sanity. In response, Noah accidentally bit my clit. 

            “Baby. Oh, shit. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” 

            His hands gripped my waist and pulled me down onto his chest, his eyes searching my face for signs of distress as I kept a hand between my legs, my eyes closed shut and my teeth scrapping my lower lip. 

            “What happened?” Oliver asked. 

            When Noah explained, Oliver burst into laughter, causing Noah to scold him before he shifted a bit to check my face again.

            “Baby?”

            “That was… not nice,” I managed to say, though my gaze softened as I opened my eyes and looked at Noah, his face adorned with pink swollen lips and traces of my arousal. 

            “I know, baby. I’m so sorry, it wasn’t on purpose,” he apologized, his hands stroking my arms.  

            “It’s ok. I’ll be fine,” I reassured him. 

            I reached out to touch his cheek and wipe away some of my arousal from his chin. He looked so beautiful like this, though. But I was suddenly lifted from atop Noah’s body by Oliver’s strong hands. 

            “Let’s see what all this pretty boy’s fuss is about.” He laid me down on the divan by the large windows overlooking the lake. His chest was glistened with sweat, and his scent mingled with mine, surrounding me in an heady embrace. 

            I took a deep breath as Oliver spread my legs open and inspected me closely. 

            “She looks pretty fine to me,” he said. 

            “I’m okay,” I muttered, feeling a twinge of shyness at the way he was observing me. 

            Noah came to stand on my side. In all honesty, they were a bit terrifying hovering over me while I was laying down. They would have made me tremble if it wasn’t for Noah’s concerned face. 

            “She’s wet and… very hard,” Oliver noticed, running his thumb up my clit, causing me to bite my lip and inhale sharply. 

            Noah bent down, running a soft hand through my hair and kissing my forehead. 

            “Doll, tell Noah you’re okay, otherwise his erection is going to turn into a withered flower.” Oliver’s joke made Noah roll his eyes as he stood up. 

            Instead of reassuring him verbally, I lifted myself on my elbows and directed my attention to his still-hard cock. With my eyes locked on his, I Indulged in tasting the tip once again, teasing him with my tongue. 

            “You sure you’re okay?” He struggled to say, losing focus. 

            “I’ll be better when I have you in my mouth and Olive between my legs.” 

            His expression shifted from concern to disbelief and then amusement. Yeah, he still hadn’t wrapped his head around the fact that he had me. He had me in every possible way. And he had Oliver, too. They both had me and I had them. 

            With one hand, I took Noah’s length into my mouth, pumping him until he groaned, his head falling back in a mix of pleasure and vulnerability. His hands remained clasped together behind his back, emphasizing his muscular form. 

            Meanwhile, Oliver’s lips trailed a path of kisses up my thigh. Usually he was one to nibble, but it quickly dawned on me that maybe he was concerned, too, about Noah accidentally biting me, and he opted for keeping his touch soft and gentle. 

            “Do you have any idea how fucking good you look when she’s blowing you?” Oliver’s words to Noah were a seductive whisper, who made the young one struggle to swallow under his intense gaze. “Next time we’ll get her on her knees, and you will stand before her, with a full-length mirror in front of you. You will see your reflection while she tortures you with that sweet hot mouth, and there I’ll be, right behind you,” Oliver murmured, planting kisses on my legs, his green eyes fixed on Noah as I continued to suck him off. His words weaved a spell around him, Noah’s throat tightening, leaving him momentarily breathless as a drop of sweat slid down his temple. “I’ll get my hands on that fucking tight ass of yours and give you whatever you ask for. How does that sound?”

            A heavy breath suffocated Noah. His reaction prompted Oliver to laugh at how easily he got both of us in this state. 

            “Hold her head,” Oliver instructed Noah, displaying again that face that said ‘let’s get to work’.

            Not that Noah wouldn’t have done it. They were so considerate that they even worried about my hair breaking if it got stuck under our mess of limbs or pillows or whatever that was around. 

            Noah’s hands found the back of my head. He moved my hair to the said and positioned himself closer to me so that my head was nearly resting atop his thigh. I lifted a hand to reach for his cock and stroke it as Oliver kissed my chest and dipped lower until he reached my navel. He stopped. He used his thumb to trace a circle around it, and reverently, he kissed it and licked it, fondling that area of skin and cherishing it as if it was his favorite part of my body. 

            I found myself gradually descending into the depths of subspace, utterly captivated by Oliver’s every move, unable to tear my gaze away from the ministrations he was performing on the skin of my stomach.  

            One of Noah’s hands found the side of my face and gently caressed my cheek. 

            “Do you like it when he does that?” His deep voice was soft, tender.

            “Yes,” I managed to breathe out, my heart racing, my mind filled with cotton. 

            I couldn’t really describe the feeling. Noah was keeping me secured and comfortable against him while Oli pressed kisses on my lower tummy, which felt another level of intimate when they were placed on my navel. 

            “You love it when we’re all sweet and nice with you, don’t you?” Noah continued, trailing strands of hair behind my ear. 

            Oliver answered for me.

            “She loves it.” 

            I mirrored Oliver’s grin of satisfaction. 

            My boys. 

            “But you like us feral when we’re inside of you,” Noah’s voice dropped, and it didn’t matter that we were already naked and touching each other: a shiver ran down my spine. 

            “She’s so receptive to everything we do or say,” Oliver remarked, some sort of amazement in his voice. “She’s fucking perfect for us, man.” 

            And they were perfect for me.

            Oliver stepped back, standing up. He lifted my legs, while Noah extended his arms to reach for my ankles, spreading me open for Oliver. As Oli positioned himself at my entrance, he rubbed his cock between my folds, teasing me. Meanwhile, Noah was about to stretch back to retrieve a condom from the nightstand and pass it to Oliver when I shook my head. 

            “No,” I said. “I want to feel you. No barriers. Just your skin on mine.” 

            Oliver’s eyes turned a shade darker.

            “What did a motherfucker like me ever did to deserve you?” 

            “If you have to ask that question maybe I’m not doing a good job at showing you how thankful I am for your love and affection…” I teased. 

            Oliver clicked his tongue and bent down to kiss me hard and passionate.

            “Look at her,” he said then, directing his words to Noah. His voice tinged with desire. “So needy.”

            The observation wasn’t a tease; it was a simple acknowledgment of the truth. I was indeed needy, overwhelmed with ecstasy at the realization that this was my life, my men, and that we were all totally happy and satisfied with each other, in every aspect possible. 

            Noah took hold of one of my wrists, securing my arm against his thigh, allowing me to use the other to his pleasure.

            “She’s soaked, isn’t she?” 

            “A complete mess,” Oliver concluded, “which only makes… this… smoother,” he finished huskily as he slid his cock inside of me, one inch at a time. 

            The delicious stretch made me let out a moan from deep withing me and dig my nails into Noah’s thigh, seeking to anchor myself. I wriggled, trying to adjust to Oliver, yearning to feel him as deep as possible, to claim him as mine one more time. With a lift of my hips, I impaled myself on the last of his rigid length, gasping as he seared me with his heat. 

            Oliver eased back, teasing me with the almost withdrawal, each movement causing a fresh gasp to escape my lips, my moans growing louder with every thrust. Every nerve in my body tingled with awareness, every cell attuned to the rhythm of his movements as he pushed in and out. 

            “Faster, please.”

            “Yeah,” Oliver roared in response, his hands firm on my hips as he guided me to his desired pace. 

            My entire body responded to him, just as it did to Noah’s whenever he was inside of me, performing the same intimate dance.  

            “Your mouths are wonderful and all that, but man,” Oliver’s voice was strained, “there’s nothing like being inside of her.” 

            “I know. I know…” Noah moaned as I stroked his cock and attempted another long lick the best I could, given my strenuous position. 

            It took him less than a few moments to gather himself and tell me not to stress my neck, but Oliver’s intensified thrusts stole my breath, making me scream in ecstasy.  

            “That’s it, doll,” he encouraged, his hands urging my thighs open as they trembled under the force of his movements and the intensity of the sensations cursing through my entire being. “Get all tight on me.”

            Oliver looked breathtaking as he pounded into me, driving me closer to the edge. The colors of his tattoos appeared more vibrant, accentuated by the sweat covering his body. When I glanced up, I found Noah smiling at the sight, as if he cherished every moment of Oliver taking me to the brink. 

            His hand found my left breasts and squeezed. 

            “You’re so fucking beautiful when you’re about to come,” his voice trailed off as his lips found my ear. “I never thought I would enjoy the sight of another man burying his dick deep inside of you, but seeing Oli fuck you does things to me.”

            “Noah,” I whimpered in response. 

            “Yeah, princess. I know exactly what you need.” His hand traveled up to my neck. When his fingers tightened around it just the right amount to give me a new type of high, I thought I could die right there right then. “Is he fucking you good, kitten? Talk to me, come on.” His grip eased just a bit, enough to allow me to answer. 

            “Yes. God, yes. It’s so good. Please, more. I want more. Everything.”

            “You’re like a fucking renaissance painting,” Oliver said amid his struggle to form words, his breath heavy with desire, his body covered glistening. “Both of you naked, disheveled, you in Noah’s arms, holding onto him, his hand around your neck… He’s fucking thrilled to see you coming undone while you’re drowning in the pleasure I give you.” 

            When Oliver slowed his movements to get one knee on the divan and leaned forward, —to pull Noah into a kiss— I whined for not being able to move and share that kiss with them. I was trapped underneath the cage of their bodies, but oh if this wasn’t a sight to behold. I felt blessed and completed. We were a mess of love and lust and passion, and we couldn’t get enough of each other. 

            “Take her for a ride,” Oliver offered Noah, pulling away from me. “I can’t stop looking at that pretty mouth and those swollen pink lips and I’m going to die if I don’t get my cock in her mouth in the next ten seconds.”

            In less than ten seconds indeed, Oliver maneuvered me onto my hands and knees on the divan. I wasn’t sure if my limbs would hold me, but I had no other choice. Noah stood behind me, bending to shower kisses on my shoulders, back, and butt, while Oliver circled to stand in front of me, his gaze just as hungry. As he indicated for me to open my mouth, I complied because I was, after all, a good girl. But first I had to trace his stomach with my tongue, licking every tattooed inch of his torso and savoring the electricity of his body. Only when I reached the beginning of his happy trail, I put him in my mouth. 

            The intensity in his eyes mirrored that of a predator, hungry and primal. 

            His weight on my tongue was deliciously overwhelming. 

            “The sight of you taking me like this always drives me insane,” Oliver confessed, his hands tangling in my hair. “But you know what tops it? Seeing Noah take you from behind.” 

            As if his words worked magic, Noah slid inside of me, his hands gripping my hips as he pressed against me. “Kitten…” he murmured, holding himself back. “Fuck. You’re damn sure you don’t want a condom on?” 

            I shook my head as best I could, for Oliver was occupying every corner of my mouth and cancelling my ability to speak. 

            “Look at him, baby,” Oliver took his cock out of my mouth so that I could look back over my shoulder. I couldn’t really maneuver as much as I would have liked to, but it was enough to see Noah’s contorted face of pleasure, his struggling smile filled with adoration and desire. 

            His thrusting started a second after, his movements becoming more fervent with very passing minute, each thrust pushing me closer to the edge of bliss.            

            “You should see his face, baby,” Oliver said to me, holding my chin, “the way he’s pulling his hair back because you’re taking him to the edge. I’m not sure what to do, man,” his last words were directed to Noah. “I’m torn between taking your place and finish her off, and taking you and making you scream until you can’t sing until your next life.”

            “Fuck, man. Shut up. I won’t last long,” was Noah’s reply. 

            As Oliver’s hoarse laughter reverberated in my ears and Noah’s powerful thrusts shook my entire body, I summoned the last reserves of my strength to reach out and grasp Oliver’s cock. With trembling fingers, I guided it back into my eager mouth. I sucked him off for a long minute, tracing with the tip of my tongue the thick veins protruding from his length, licking the top as if it was candy. 

            Noah’s next thrust was hard and bordering on pain, but pleasurable all the same. I let go of Oliver to scream, the sound ripping through my vocal cords. Noah’s hands found my hair and he gathered all the messy strands to pull me towards him, tilting my head back until I was left with no choice but to stare at Oliver with watery eyes, my chin up and my lips parted, the saliva dripping from the corner quickly wiped away by Oliver’s thumb. In that moment, I felt completely exposed, vulnerable yet exhilarated by the raw intensity of the experience.  

            “Fuck,” Noah groaned.

            “Yes,” Oliver roared in return, grabbing my face with a hand and pressing his fingers into my cheeks. “You look so beautiful on all fours, letting Noah fuck you hard and deep. You’re so, so good for us, doll. And we love you so fucking much, you know that, right? We fucking adore the good girl that you are.” 

            I was a wreck. There was nothing I could do. I was done for. My heart was going to explode and so was the rest of my body. 

            Despite my helplessness, a prideful smile played on my lips, and Oliver kissed me through it, his touch a blend of amusement, desire, and profound love. 

            “Noah, you should definitely see her like this. She can’t stop smiling while you fuck her. It doesn’t get any better than this. We’re some lucky bastards.”

            Noah’s response came amidst his relentless thrusts, his words spoken with conviction and tenderness. Leaning over me, he enveloped me in a hug, his warm breath against my ear, one of his hands sliding down to my clit. “You’re perfect for us, kitten, so take what we give you, yeah? We’re all yours. Everything we have to offer is for you.”

            I was surrounded by their love and desire. I felt truly cherished and consumed by ecstasy. I wasn’t going to last much longer, and my orgasm was going to swallow me whole. 

            The air was thick with the scent of our worked-out bodies. Our desperate and raw moans filling the room, echoing off the walls as every nerve in my body ignited, higher, harder. Each touch, each thrust, pushed me to the brink. Every tingling sensation escalating, every sensation in every inch of my body was constantly awakened and pushed to the edge of feeling. My entire body tingled, the electrifying sensation turning into ache that crazily enough kept me thrusting back against Noah in pleas for more as I welcomed Oliver’s hot and frenzied release inside of my mouth, driving me to arch my back and press into Noah’s body, yearning for his release, too. 

            I wanted it all. 

            In the end, I didn’t even need much more than Noah’s movements and Oliver’s words. Their tempo had been a tortuous dance that had promised to send me over the edge, and I was just

about

to

fall

right 

over

it.

            “Eyes on me,” Oliver commanded, grabbing my jaw again. “I want you looking at me when Noah makes you come.”

            “Come on, baby,” Noah urged. “It’s right there. Just right,” one more thrust, “there.”

            It was there, and I took it with screams and trembles until my head fell on the divan, my body unable to hold itself, my legs spasming as Noah’s growls filled my ears and his cum spilled over my buttcheeks and lower back.              

A day later — Early morning

Noah's laughter shook his body, causing a ripple effect that had me giggling and squirming against his chest, where I was lying diagonally with my hand extended towards Oliver.  

            Oliver was sleeping face down. He had drifted off after a morning session of lovemaking in which Noah had taken me while I slept in his arms and Oliver had taken him—a chain reaction that had us falling one after another like a line of dominoes.

            Noah and I hadn't been able to fall back asleep, and now we laid intertwined in each other’s nakedness while Oliver’s breathing drifted intermittently above our hushed voices. 

            Being in a playful mood, Noah and I decided to tease Oliver, making comments about how much he snored. Oliver responded with a muffled grunt into his pillow. 

            Later, I found myself idly toying with Oliver’s curls until he grunted again and shifted away from us, turning his head in the opposite direction. That’s when my eyes fell on his nipples, and that’s where I teased him next. 

            Oliver swatted my hand and opened one eye. “Stop,” he ordered. “Why don’t you annoy your other boyfriend? That’s why there’s two of us.”

            I hummed in disappointment and then sighed as I rested my head on Noah’s chest, still looking at Oliver’s sleeping face for a few moments. The softness of his features eased my spontaneous frustration, the comforting touch of Noah’s hand running through my hair also helping. 

            “Did you sleep well?” Noah asked with a soft voice, careful not to disturb Oliver too much. 

            “Hmm,” I murmured, nodding as I rubbed my head against his chest. Shifting, I turned to lift my head and look at him. “You?”

            “Yeah,” he replied, “except for the time I had to get up to pee and the damn doll kept staring at me until I disappeared into the bathroom.” His finger pointed towards the boxed Tiffany on top of one of the drawers in the room, likely placed there by Oliver on purpose. 

            “So, Oli didn’t get up to walk hand in hand with you, huh?” I teased. 

            “Does he really look like he would get up in the middle of the night to ease my fears? He’s totally passed out,” he remarked. 

            “Not really,” Oliver chimed in from his pillow. “Not anymore, anyway, but I’m knackered.” 

            “Knackered,” Noah repeated, a hint of confusion in his tone. My fingers played with his brown strands of hair. The haircut he wore these days was my favorite. “What the hell does that even mean, dude?”

            I giggled softly.

            “You should know by now, love,” Oliver added, still speaking with closed eyes, one hand resting beneath the pillow. 

            “Worn out, tired,” I whispered to Noah. Then, I leaned in to straddle him and planted a kiss on his jaw, feeling the stubble under my lips. He’d probably decide to shave today, and I couldn’t wait to watch him, maybe even Oliver, too, standing together in front of the bathroom mirror with blades in hand. There was something incredibly attractive about watching not just one, but two men shaving. 

            I sighed loudly, feeling like I was still in a dream. 

            My lips traced the curve of Noah’s jaw until I playfully nibbled on his earlobe. Sensing my playful vibes, he turned my face towards him and planted a gentle kiss on my lips, his eyes locking onto mine with intensity. 

            “You were fantastic yesterday morning.”

            His words made my cheeks flush. 

            “Thank you,” I replied, feeling a warm glow spread through me. 

            “You know…” he began, “I didn’t want to fall in love with you,” his tone turned somber as his fingers tucked strands of hair behind my ear. “During those months when we were just having fun and having sex every so often… I was terrified of what I was feeling every time I had you in my bed, in my arms, and I told myself I couldn’t afford to fall in love with you; that I was not good for you. By the time I decided I had to stop fucking you, I realized I had fallen in hard long ago,” he took a deep breath, his index finger tracing the line of my nose. “Now, I don’t regret a single minute I’ve spent with you, any of the steps that have brought us here. And I wouldn’t want things to be any other way. You, me, Oliver. Sex, love, arguments; the sun, and the rain. Everything. I wouldn’t trade what we have for anything in the world.”

            His words melted my heart, and tears welled up in my eyes. 

            Before they could spill over, Oliver’s voice cut through our moment of tender honesty. 

            “You two are really cute, seriously.”  

            Noah relaxed with resignation, rolling his eyes. I slapped Oliver’s bare shoulder, but my body sought his with desperation when I saw his beautiful eyes shine under the morning light streaming in through the windows, accompanied by his radiant smile. 

            I had everything anyone could ever ask for. 

We left the warmth of the bed nearly an hour later, after a tickling match and some cuddling. 

            I took longer in the shower that morning, thoughts of the day ahead and memories of the previous day’s activities mingled with the steam around me. I pulled my hair up in a bun in front of the dresser, and with my bikini on and a well-worn t-shirt that I had long since taken ownership of (and could no longer remember if it had belonged to Oliver or Noah), I walked into the bright openness of the kitchen and went straight to make myself a cup of iced green tea. 

            Through one of the windows, I spotted Oliver and Noah playing outside with Luna. 

             After pulling a few ice cubes out of the freezer, Noah's loud laughter drifted into the house through the door and open windows. I caught sight of him doubled over with mirth, hands on his knees while Oliver, not far off, lay sprawled on the grass, laughing as Luna affectionately licked his face. 

            Witnessing their happiness never failed to reassure me that all was right in the world, in our world. The nights when Noah’s health was a concern seemed distant now, replaced by a sense of well-being and contentment. Any lingering doubts Oliver may have harbored about this relationship or his place within it had melted away. We were a team. We were bound to each other. They loved me, they loved each other, and I loved them. 

            An incoming call on Oliver's iPhone snapped me out of my trance, forcing me to draw my attention away from the window as I reached for the phone resting on the kitchen island. 

            Seeing Amelia’s name flashing on Oliver’s phone screen, the same real estate agent that had guided us through potential homes for our future together as a trio a few months ago, caught me off guard. Memories of our discussions about the charming two-story house in a serene Los Angeles neighborhood, close to the house Jack and his wife Sylvie had recently purchased after getting married, flooded back. Noah hadn't been very decisive about it; He had a preference for other neighborhoods. But the main problem was that the house I fell in love with was way out of our budget, so we had ruled it out. Then we decided to leave house hunting activities for another time, maybe after summer and after their crazy schedules turned less chaotic. 

            That’s why I didn't understand why Amelia was calling Oliver. 

            Nevertheless, I answered the call. Amelia’s warm greeting reminded me of our prior interactions. When I told her that Oliver couldn’t be put on at that time, she seemed pleased to speak with me instead. 

            She started talking about paperwork and payments, which left me baffled. 

            “As I indicated to Noah and Oliver, after receiving the missing paperwork and the main payment, we would have the keys available in a matter of a couple of weeks. So, I was calling to let you know that you can come by the office to pick up the keys to your new home at a time that works best for you.”

            What paperwork? What payment? 

            The keys to my new home?

            I had no clue what she was talking about. 

            “Our new home?”

            “Sure,” she didn’t catch my astonishment, how lost I was in this conversation. “The one with the spacious living room and with the garden in the back, in the cul-de-sac. I still remember your excitement when you saw that room upstairs and shared your plans of turning it into a library. That was a fantastic idea!”

            I blinked, frowning even harder, and looked through the window for Oliver and Noah.

            “The house Noah and Oliver revisited when you were working,” Amelia added.

            It couldn't be. 

            Amelia repeated my name a couple of times when I didn't say anything. 

            I shook my head. 

            “Yes, yes, I'm here. Sure,” I forced myself to say, because I didn't know what else to say. “Um, we're on vacation right now. I guess when we get back next week we can stop by and pick up the keys.” 

            “Perfect. We've sent a copy of the signed papers to both Oliver's and Noah's email. If you have any questions or need anything else, please don't hesitate to give us a call.”

            “No, of course. We will. Thank you.”

            My hand was trembling as I placed the phone back on the counter. My mind was racing with thoughts, grappling with the implications of Amelia’s words—the sudden reality of a house, our house, in Los Angeles, already paid for. 

            In that moment of disorientation, a fresh morning breeze made its way into the house, followed by Oliver’s radiant presence and the sound of his laugh. Noah wasn’t far behind. They were dressed in their swimming trunks and simple white t-shirts, exuding a carefree energy and carrying with themselves the scent of nature, their hair moving swiftly with the wind.��

            They appeared almost ethereal, like angels descending into the room.  

            The morning light filtered through the windows as Oliver stretched his arms towards me in greeting, his graceful features illuminated momentarily before dropping at the sight of my expression.

            “Hey. What’s with that face?”

            “Did something happen?” Noah asked, sensing something amiss, too. 

            “I’m not sure,” I replied. “I just got off the phone with… Amelia,” my gaze flicked towards Oliver’s iPhone resting on the counter. “She said that we can drop by her office anytime to pick up the keys of the house.”

            After a moment of silence, Noah cursed under his breath.

            “Shit.” 

            Oliver took another moment to reply, his shoulders sagging as he licked his lips and placed a hand on his hip while sharing a quick concerned, disappointed look with Noah. 

            “You were not supposed to find out about the house until we were all in Los Angeles,” he admitted. 

            I frowned because there were no plans of being the three of together in los Angeles any time soon. That’s why we had planned this trip to Cumbria as soon as our days off coincided. 

            “We don’t even know when that’s going to be,” I said.  

            Considering their packed schedules, this short vacation was the only opportunity for the three of us to be together before our commitments to work pulled us apart again and Noah and Oliver drowned themselves in work. I also had to return to my job. I wished I could be on holiday for longer, but unfortunately, the demands of everyday life kept me tied to my mundane job in L.A.

            “Yes, we do,” Oliver corrected. “I’m flying with you and Noah back to L.A. next week.” He allowed me a moment to take it all in. His words carried a mixture of excitement and anticipation that was contagious, but my confusion and disbelief at the recent revelation were bigger. “I have a month off, and I planned on spending it with you two so that we could go through the moving-in process together and get everything sorted before I have to come back here for work. We thought that a month would be time enough to work on whatever needs fixing in the house and maybe make some changes. Painting the walls, work on the garden, converting that room with the garden-facing windows into the studio you mentioned wanting, and…”

            “Wait. Wait, slow down,” I interjected, raising a hand and feeling a whirlwind of emotions stirring inside me. “This is… I don’t understand.”

            “Why don’t we sit down?” Noah suggested. 

            Taking his cue, I sank into the soft cushions of the sofa, folding my legs beneath me. Oliver settled beside me while Noah remained standing, always unaware of the effect his long frame had on everybody else, especially on those who were sitting. But I could feel his nervous energy as he paced a little. However, despite both their worries, there was an undeniable spark of mischief crossing their expressions every other second. 

            “I thought you had work to do because you’re already over a year delayed on the release of Bring Me’s new album, and you,” I turned to Noah,” your schedule for next month is packed with photoshoots, interviews, and other meetings and stuff.”

            “Well, yeah,” Noah acknowledged, “but one more month isn’t going to hurt anybody, is it?”

            “I’m sure your fans will have something to say about it,” I chided them lightly. 

            “We all have personal matters to attend, so if things have to get postponed, they get postponed. Period,” he concluded. “This is more important.”

            This. Oliver, me, him. 

            “And it’ll be just a month, so that we can finally settle down,” Oliver added, his voice filled with determination and hope. 

            The phrase ‘settle down’ echoed in my mind, confirming that this was not a joke. I blinked repeatedly. 

            “So… Did you really— You bought a house?”

            “We bought you a house, yeah,” Noah confirmed with a smile, his brown beautiful eyes reflecting the depth of his affection. 

            A sarcastic laugh escaped my lips, disbelief mingling with gratitude. 

            “You don’t just buy a house like that. Especially not that house. It was way out of our budget and…”

            “We made some adjustment to the budget,” Oliver clarified, his tone firm yet gentle. He draped an arm on the back of the sofa, his fingers finding a lose lock of my hair. “You really loved that house when we visited it a few months ago, and we thought… after everything you’ve done for us…” 

            “What have I done for you?” I asked, feeling so utterly overwhelmed and undeserving of this. 

            “Doll, are you kidding?” Oliver said, a hint of offense creeping into his voice. “You have to start giving more credit to yourself or we’re going to have a problem here.”

            Ignoring his scold, and unable to shake off the sensations flooding me, I repeated, “You didn’t buy me a house.”

            “Okay, put it as you wish because technically, it’s our house now,” Noah said. “It’s for the three of us, so, if it sounds better to you, we bought us a house.”

            I had a knot in my throat and butterflies in my stomach. 

            “But I didn’t… I couldn’t… I can’t afford it,” I finally protested, my voice trailing off.

            “Who said you have to pay anything? This is a gift from us to you, because we love you and we want to have a place to call our own,” Oliver silenced my objections with a finger. “You threw a huge birthday party for me last November, Jurassic Park-themed,” he continued, a soft smile tugging at his lips at the memory. It had, in fact, required weeks of work to set everything up as I wished. Oliver was a fanatic of the Jurassic Park movies, and I thought it a great idea to celebrate his 38th birthday with dinosaur animatronics and a whole venue decorated as if it was a jungle. “And you were the one who managed to convince Nicholas and Jolly not to prepare anything for Noah’s birthday because he hates celebrating it. Instead, you took him to an escape room, then out for Mexican food, and finally to see the stars from Hollywood Hills because sometimes he’s soppy like that.” 

            Noah giggled at his comment, his eyes sparkling. The honesty and warmth of their words enveloped me, dispelling any doubts. 

            “If it weren’t for you, I’d still be going to bed alone,” Oliver continued, “thinking that I’m too much of a weirdo for someone to love me. And Noah would probably be locked in the studio, ignoring the growing headache in that big head of his.” 

            Noah responded to his comment by punching him in the shoulder, but Oliver’s response was to grab him by the back of his neck and pull him in for a kiss, then gazing deeply into his eyes before turning his attention back to me. 

            “You love me despite all my bullshit,” Oliver said. “You’ve given me a reason to find the purpose that was missing in my life. You brought Noah into my life.”

            “You brought the three of us together, baby,” Noah added with a soft smile. 

            “We would be a train wreck without you, so the least we could do was to get you the house of your dreams,” Oliver concluded. 

            At this point, tears streamed down my face, my whimpers mixing with laughter of joy. The overwhelming love and appreciation that filled the room leaving me breathless with emotion. 

            “You also bought me that really expensive replica of Tiffany Valentine” I commented. “How much more money are you planning of spending on me?”

            “Our entire bank accounts if that’d make you happy,” Oliver answered, pursing his lips to show that that was the least of his concerns.

            “You know money is not what makes me happy,” I answered, shaking my head. “I just care about being with you, building a life out of moments like the ones we’re spending here.” 

            “Then, there’s no point for this talk,” he added. “We got a house. We’re moving into our new place next week.”

            “We’ll sleep in mattresses on the floor until you select the furniture you want for the bedroom. We’ll let you choose,” Noah announced.

            “Oh, my God.” Reality sank in. Noah crouched down in front of me to wipe the tears for my face. “Okay,” I whispered to myself. “You bought a house. We have a house. This is nuts. It’ll take me a while to process it. I have to tell Jack; he’s going to be strangely happy about this. He’s going to give you both a pat on the back and finally be totally convinced that you love me for something more than just my pussy,” I joked 

            “Already did,” Oliver said. 

            I frowned, realization dawning on me. 

            “Don’t tell me Jack already knew about this.”  

            Both nodded, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to just wrap them both in my arms or throw a pillow to wipe the grins on their faces. They had this planned all along… 

            “You have to promise me something,” I said, turning serious.

            “You name it,” Noah said.       

            “What is it?” Oliver asked. 

            “You’re going to quit this bad habit of making decisions without me.”

            Even if I always benefit from those.

            “Oh, baby, but you love our bad habits.”

            And it had been far too long since I had willingly fallen down the abyss of those. 

Well, this is the end, but not the last time you'll be reading about them. I have a second bonus scene pending to post which I haven't finished yet. It takes place between BONUS SCENE I and THE EPILOGUE, and it focuses on the reader's brother's engagement party. There are some hints at what transpired during that evening in this epilogue, did you catch them? 🤭

And again, thank you so much to every single one of you that took the time to read this, reblog, and comment. It's been a wild ride.

Taglist: @girlfromrussia-universe | @oro-e-diamanti | @lma1986 | @missduffsblog | @bngurngheart | @winterwinchester | @jilliemiw86 | @sorrowsofsilence | @th4t-em0-k1d | @to-be-written | @thescarlettvvitch | @nonamessblog | @somebodyels3 | @starsomens | @ditto66 | @dominuslunae | @cookiesupplier | @midnight-eternals | @pennysky | @iknownothingpeople | @cncohshit | @ladyveronikawrites | @blackveilomens | @robabankfuckmickeymouse | @kageyasma | @concretedaddy2018 | @silentglassbreak | @thescarlettvvitch | @sammyjoeee | @pathion

#noah sebastian #oliver sykes #noah sebastian x oliver sykes #bad omens #bmth #bring me the horizon #oli sykes #noah sebastian fic #oliver sykes fic #noah sebastian fanfic #oliver sykes fanfic #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #bmth fanfiction #oliver sykes x reader #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian x you #oliver sykes x you

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Ace Trappola - Platinum Jacket Vignette

"Happy 100th Anniversary"

[Land of Dawning – National  Museum of Art]

Ace: Huuuh, so this museum's been open for 100 years, huh. It's got some pretty cool exhibits.

Ace: Tryin' to appreciate art just seems boring, and I totally thought bein' a supporter was not my bag, but I might be able to enjoy myself here after all.

Ace: ―Ooh, found me the painting of some card soldiers! Look at 'em, all cool the way they're standing at attention like that.

???: Mhm, their perfectly aligned call to attention is quite the spectacle.

Ace: Ah, hey, Lilia-senpai. You must have great taste to see the true quality of this painting here! Haha.

Ace: If the rank and file are in disarray, then it doesn't look good at all. They gotta be in perfect formation, especially when marching.

Lilia: That's correct. So, you understand what it means to march as they do… Not bad, kid.

Ace: Not that much. I mean, back in my dorm, we just have certain days that all the students are required to march in formation.

Lilia: Kufufu, I heard that practice for that begins as soon as you enter. I've heard many a classmate complaining about it here and there.

Ace: Yeaaaaah, I can see why they'd want to complain. It's not just the Housewarden; even our usually nice upperclassmen come down on us hard during the training.

Ace: The first time I had to march after joining the dorm was the worst. We definitely looked nothing like the card soldiers in this art piece.

Ace: When we looked at the video that Cater-senpai took for us, we could see that the first years' walking was ALL OVER THE PLACE.

Ace: Every one of 'em couldn't get their arms and legs up and moving properly, and they were all looking down. It was sooo lame. I couldn't even laugh at how bad it was.

Ace: By the by, I got praised pretty much right out the gate ♪ They all said that my spirit fully embodied the heart suit card soldiers.

Ace: It's easy for me to just copy what I see the upperclassmen are doing, or what the video's showing. I don't get why all the rest of them were havin' a bad time.

Lilia: OHO～～～?

Ace: Eh? What's with that grin? You're kinda giving me the creeps all of a sudden.

Lilia: How rude of you to call someone as cute as me creepy! But aren't you actually quite the diligent one.

Ace: DILIGENT!? I don't think that word suits me at all!?

Lilia: Not only did you follow the examples set by your upperclassmen, you also watched went further and watched the videos and practiced on your own… I'm seeing you in a whole new light, Ace.

Ace: Ahh, c'mon. Stop patting my head like that. It's not like I was trying to study for it or anything.

Ace: It woulda been a pain and pretty lame if I had to stay behind to practice. That's why I just wanted to get it done ASAP. That's all!

Lilia: It's nothing worth getting all worked up to deny.

Lilia: I think it's rather commendable that you put in the extra effort in order to seek what you think is "cool."

Ace: I'm not getting worked up…! Wait, I got a feeling that if I keep responding, he'll just keep stringing me along to tease me.

Ace: Uh, I'm gonna go to check out the cool-lookin' painting over there!

Lilia: Hey now, don't leave me behind. Kufufu, this must be that adolescence I've heard much about.

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Lilia: Let me see, what cool painting were you talking about… Oho, it's of the King of Beasts. He looks oh so dignified, I can't help but find it charming.

Ace: Aaand he followed me… But yeah, I definitely agree that's he's pretty dignified.

Lilia: There are many legends swirling around the King of Beasts. Just from looking at this painting, I can't think of which scene they're trying to depict here.

Ace: Uhhh, based on this info they got plastered next to it…

Ace: Looks like… Oh, it's where he was talking about his vision for the country's future with his hyena retainers.

Ace: I actually really like the story of how the King of Beasts would always trust in his hyenas.

Ace: Oh yeah, and that one where he performed songs for his people!

Lilia: Mhm, that's a good one. He is a sophisticated king indeed to utilize singing to vow to improve his country.

Ace: Riiiiight～? Totally get why the hyenas were so excited that they were singing and dancing all through the night.

Ace: The King of Beasts looks pretty unapproachable from just a glance, but he must have had a ton of charisma.

Lilia: Well, he did have the power to move his people's hearts through song. If he had his due, perhaps he would have been able to sway the whole world with his song.

Ace: Totally. If I had lived during the same era, I would have loved to go and karaoke with him.

Lilia: Speaking of karaoke… I heard you and Sebek went for that.

Ace: Ah, did you hear that from Sebek? We went with Deuce and the two from Ramshackle…

Ace: Jack and Epel also tagged along. But maan, it was pretty insane.

Ace: So many of them were new to it, so I had to teach them everything, from how to choose a new song, to ordering food. You'd think they'd have common sense to figure out, but c'mon.

Ace: We literally couldn't sing a single song for the first 30 min or so, I was like, what did we even come here for!?

Lilia: Kufufu, now, now, you can't say that. I'm sure there's things you're not familiar with, too.

Ace: But c'mon～ …Well, I guess it was kinda fun to have a small competition using the karaoke's scoring system.

Lilia: So, you had a karaoke competition! I would love to tag along next time. So, who won?

Ace: Well, that's obvious… IT WAS YA BOY ACE-KUN HERE!

Ace: When I hit 100 points, everyone was lookin' up at me like idiots, all like, "you gotta be kidding!"

Ace: As a bit of a handicap, I chose of the recent viral songs and did the dance that went along with it, too～

Lilia: Oho, that's amazing that you can sing while moving your body without missing a beat.

Ace: I mean, unlike those guys, back in middle school I would go karaoke a lot.

Ace: And all those guys kept shouting that they'd practice singing so they could sing next time, but y'know…

Ace: There's actually a trick to getting the high score on that machine's scoring function. It's not enough to just be a good singer.

Ace: At this rate, I think I'll be taking home the win next time too ♪

Lilia: Kufufu, looks like even the ones who don't get to spend that much time together with you all had some fun, eh?

Ace: Well, I guess it wasn't too bad.

Ace: They'd choose stuff like old songs that were popular during my parent's heyday, or minor folk songs…

Ace: It was kinda neat that I heard a ton of songs that I normally wouldn't listen to. It was completely different to how it'd be if I was with my friends back home.

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Ace: This painting is of those eels that served the Sea Witch…

Lilia: Mhm. It's said that whenever they found merfolk in distress, they would encourage them to seek the guidance of the benevolent Sea Witch.

Ace: Huuh, they look kinda scary, but… Guess you can't judge a book by its cover.

Lilia: Speaking of… Ace, I heard you went a little viral on Magicam the other day.

Ace: Geh! So, you saw that post too…

Lilia: Kufufu, I took it all in.

Lilia: "This scary-looking young man in a flashy shirt was kind to a kid in this burger shop," it said.

Lilia: You did a good thing, Mister "Scary-Looking Young Man in a Flashy Shirt."

Ace: C'mon, can you not tease me!?

Ace: The comments section was going wild with stuff like, "I love that personality gap～" and "The scarier the person looks, the softer their heart is."

Ace: I definitely don't like people just deciding that I'm scary just from how I look, or just assuming that I'm nice.

Ace: More like, I think it was 'cause I was with all my basketball teammates that I ended up looking scary too.

Ace: And 'sides, that patterned shirt I was wearing wasn't even something I'd pick out on my own.

Ace: Floyd-senpai made me buy it sometime back, so I thought it'd be bad if I didn't wear it, that's all…

Lilia: Hm, guess it was a mistake of them to comment on your appearance, then. But it was true that you were nice to the kid, right?

Ace: Nope. I just was throwing something I didn't want at 'em!

Lilia: You gave them something you didn't want…? So how does that turn into being "kind" to the kind?

Ace: So, when my clubmates and me went to the burger shop down in town, we got a free card with our orders.

Ace: Something about how they were doing a collaboration campaign with a movie that was recently released.

Ace: I at least knew what the movie was, so I opened it up, but just as I was thinking to myself that I didn't really need a card, or anything…

Ace: This kid who was nearby just randomly started crying. Apparently they wanted a hero card, not a villain card.

Ace: That's why I just gave him the card I had. It just happened to be the one he wanted.

Ace: I was able to get rid of something I didn't want, and I didn't have to listen to the sound of crying in the background. Win-win, right?

Lilia: Well, when you explain it like that, it definitely no longer feels like a heartwarming story.

Ace: Riiight? But then all the folks on Magicam had to go and try to treat me like a nice guy. Everyone's been teasing me about that too…

Ace: In the end, even the Headmage got wind of the video and just wouldn't stop praising me, saying "This is a fantastic thing you've done!"

Ace: Maan, preconception can be a crazy thing. I bet if I was wearing my school uniform, it definitely wouldn't have taken off.

Ace: They say that it's not all about appearance, but I guess that first impression you get is still important.

Lilia: Kufufu, I bet if the parents of that child were to hear your true feelings about it, they'd be shocked.

Lilia: Well then, I think I'll go on to check out the other exhibits. Bye then, Ace.

Ace: Whew, Lilia-senpai just couldn't stop teasing, huh. Wellll, what should I go and look at next…? Hm?

Ace: Woah, it's a painting of a walrus and the oysters. Lookin' at it here, the walrus really looks like a proper gentleman.

Ace: I bet those oysters were also tricked by how the walrus looked. Can't help but feel sorry for them… Heh.

Requested by Anonymous.

#twisted wonderland #twst #ace trappola #lilia vanrouge #twst ace #twst lilia #twst translation #twst birthday #mention: riddle #mention: cater #mention: deuce #mention: jack #mention: floyd #mention: epel #mention: sebek #mention: grim #mention: yuu #mention: crowley

[olderthannetfic]

One of the things I've seen people who support End OTW Racism talk about is wanting to make sure only people who should reclaim slurs use them in their work. This raises a lot of questions to me, such as 1. how are you going to determine who gets to reclaim a slur 2. how are you going to determine that an individual is in the group you've decided should be allowed to once you figure out the answer to point 1, and 3. how are you going to deal with the fact that sometimes, a word is a slur in one language or one region of the world and not the rest? A lot of people I know in the United States only found out what the slur is for Pakistani people when a YouTuber from the UK (who is black, not Pakistani himself) got heat for saying it, for instance. If someone accidentally uses it as an abbreviation, not knowing it's a slur in the UK, then how is the moderation team supposed to handle that?

I like the idea of having more moderators who can review instances of harassment and racism, but I feel that some of these proposed ideas are not practical or realistic to implement online in large-scale on a site as big as AO3. I hate that anyone who asks these questions is being framed as being "pro-racism". Of course I'm anti-racist, I'm not white and I've experienced it in fandom, but having been in fandom for this long, I'm aware that it's a big space. It seems to me to be an impossible task to check that every single person using a slur is someone you've decided should be allowed to do so for every single instance of it being used in every story on the entire archive. My main fandom alone is half a million works. It would take an astounding amount of volunteers to look through that.

Also, though... people lie. People lie about their race a lot online. I have caught out many, many people in the act of lying when they claim to be Afghani because, as a mixed black/Pashtun person myself, I know enough about the region to ask them things like what language their parents speak or what part of the country they're from, etc., and people haven't put in enough effort to read up on the thing they're pretending to be, so they say something so incorrect it's readily apparent. But there are a lot of Afghani-Americans with very little knowledge of the country, too, as a result of generational trauma. Even I have sometimes found myself going, "Is this a lie, or is this someone who's just disconnected from their roots?" So how are volunteers on AO3 supposed to know if someone is or isn't the race they say they are? Even BIPOC can misidentify someone as a liar or believe someone who is actually lying if the liar in question put in a lot of work into their grift.

And that's without getting into the obvious fact that people are assholes who will lie about authors and forge evidence against them to try to convince the mods so-and-so is lying about being black so they shouldn't be allowed to use the word 'colored' in their historical fandom set in the 1890's. You know people would do that to each other, it's fandom. Fandom has always had toxic people in it.

A lot of people who back End OTW Racism keep saying, "we're just holding AO3 to it's promise back in 2020" but don't seem to have thought through their suggestions on how AO3 does that. I really want to be onboard here, but these ideas were not well thought-out. Even disregarding how many people it'd take to moderate a site this big, the flaw baked into this and many other proposals is that it falls into asking the moderators to make personal judgments and assessments of sensitive matters and situations where they don't have all the information they'd need to make that judgment call.

Honestly I think before calling for action, they should've had a list of actionable ideas for what AO3 do that are not so obviously rife with flaws and room for abuse by bad-faith actors.

--

There really doesn't seem to be a lot of willingness to deal with the reality of both racefakers and POC getting harassed for doing their own identities "wrong".

Frankly, I'd rather have lots of questionable works than one instance of demanding some hapless minority teenager prove their identity because they ~don't sound authentic~.

How much must that fuck a person up, especially if they're young? Especially, especially if they're some kind of diaspora, quite possibly displaced for unpleasant reasons.

I frankly think people massively overestimate any "harm" from some crappy fic a person refused to click back on and massively underestimate this other kind of harm.

[eashmo]

- Blood and Chocolate -

A vampy eddie smut fic

warnings: a long story of absolute filthy shamless smut with chocolate syrup. because i'm a whore for vamp eddie..... i seriously need to get laid or something. 🤣

A/n: eddie gif by @illhumor

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The room was dark as I entered, an atmosphere created by a faded orange yellow hue. Decorated with a couple of fake torches that were lit and in the middle of the room stood a large, dark wooden table surrounded by wooden chairs that were currently occupied by Erica and the guys At the head of the table was a throne, and with one glance, I saw the very person I was looking for…… My favorite bloodsucker Dungeon master.

His eyes were on me the moment I walked in. He tried to hide his grin when I decided to take my place on my “throne” that was next to his. That's when the rest of the party finally noticed me. I mouthed “don't mind me” to them as they gave me small waves and smiles.

I never really played with them, It was actually more entertaining to me to listen to them play. Mostly because of Eddie, the way he always made the story come to life was always mesmerizing, with all the effort he put into various characters and the range of voices he had for them. I always found myself on the edge of my seat, wanting to know what was going to happen next. Sometimes, I also couldn’t help getting turned on by him being in his element, and he knew that.

*hour later*

I was thoroughly engrossed in some homework that I decided to quietly do while everyone was bickering about what plan they should do to destroy Acererak, i trying to distract myself from being hot and bothered by Eddie's voice. when all of a sudden Eddies' ringed right hand came into my field of vision, holding the d20.

“Wanna roll it for me, baby?” he grins down at me. I grin back at him, taking the dice from him. Standing in front of him, his hands on my hips. I could feel how hard he was because I knew he could smell my arousal soon as he started the campaign.

“You got this kitten.” he whispers in my ear, smirking when I hear my pet name fall from his lips as I roll the dice in my hand. Everyone held their breath when I released it from my grasp, time slowed as it rolled across the table, and then it suddenly rolled right on a 20. 

“CRIT HIT!” Erica screamed, and everyone joined the chaos. Turning towards Eddie, I lunched myself at him arms wrapped around his neck. He caught me as he wrapped his arms tightly around me, spinning me around, causing me to giggle. Setting me down, I pulled down his head to give him a passionate kiss. Who knew playing DnD could be a major turn-on? 

“I got a surprise at home for you.” I mumbled lightly into his lips for only him to hear. I could feel him smirk against my lips. Voices from the party went from cheering to “gross”, “get a room guys” and gagging. We laughed apart.

“Sorry guys” I giggled.

*hours later*

Cold hands slithered over sweat-damp skin. Eddie slid his tongue up my chocolate syrup covered neck, and the wetness from his tongue leaves a trail of fire behind. Biting my skin, he sucked the blood he drew with his fangs. He groaned at the taste of both blood and chocolate, which flooded his mouth. he moves up to my jaw line. pausing over my earlobe, where he gently nibbles. Causing me to moan louder, my fingers roughly clutch his long, dark brown hair. He pulls away from me.

“Hm kitten~ be a good girl and behave.”

I whined as His hands automatically found my thighs, running them up and down my soft skin. He lifted me onto the kitchen counter, I leaned down to kiss him, and a soft growl rolled out of his lips as he leaned up, capturing my lips with equal vigor. The press of lips transformed into something more deep, tongues dancing around one another as our breaths mingled together. I leaned back with a gasp and licked my lips that were now covered in my blood and chocolate. 

spreading my legs more so he could scoot closer between them. He placed his forehead on mine.

“As much as i loved my chocolate covered strawberries, you're definitely a better snack”  he licks my mouth clean, "so delicious"

We both shared a laugh, I could stare at him for hours and loved the way he looked with chocolate and blood running down his slightly toned chest. His blown out crimson eyes on mine, his wild brown hair framed his face perfectly, his glistening red tinted fangs grinning at me. He was a work of art sculpted by Michelangelo himself, and he was mine. i wanted to lick him clean. He poured more chocolate syrup on me. It dripped down my body.

His mouth instantly attached itself to me again. Working his way down my throat and chest. He teased each nipple until it hardened, slowly increasing the pressure. Arching my back, eyes closed, I pressed my skin against his lips. Slowly, ever so slowly, he grazes his fangs across my nipples, drawing beads of blood from the sensitive skin. He lapped the drops from my chocolate covered skin over and over.

Down and down, he moved, licking, sucking, mapping inch after inch of my skin. When his breath ghosted over my core, I whimpered.my legs spread wider. 

"Please." I breathed. 

He attached his lips to my clit, tongue lapped my insides, fangs scraped my folds as his nose was buried in soft h/c hair. Two ringed fingers thrusted into me, causing me to let out a choked moan. Fangs dug into my inner thigh. Fingers pumped in and out, until he found his favorite spot that was within me.  opening my legs Wider, exposing myself as much as I could.

“D-Daddy” I whined. When I reached the edge, he pulled out his fingers, and my release splashed all over his face. As I tried to regain myself, he raised himself, licking his lips clean.

“That good kitten?” he smirked. I pulled him down, capturing his lips with mine. Tasting myself, I groaned. 

“Let me return a favor.” I bite his lip, causing him to growl. Unsteadly, i jumped off the counter and kneeled in front of him. 

He watched me as I eyed his cock like was about to eat a candy cane. A chocolate covered candy cane. He was about to say something until he felt the chocolate syrup being poured on him and my lips encasing the tip of his cock, the words died in his throat. 

“S-shit… kitten”

 I just hummed, and he let out a groan. my tongue swirled around the tip, gathering as much precum and chocolate as I could before I started to swallow more around him. What I couldn't fully take into my mouth was working on with my fingers, wrapping a hand around his base while the other one was fondling his balls. He let out a long, throaty moan. His hands clasped the counter tightly above me.

I looked up from under my thick lashes and smiled, humming before I started bobbing my head in a steady rhythm. I clenched my thighs together, feeling the steady pulse of my pussy as I pleased my beloved vampire. His moans became breathless - sounded like he was close. I pushed the flat of my tongue against the underside of his cock, pressing against his thick vein as I sucked and moved my head up and down. His hands found my head, burying them into my h/c strands as he encouraged me to go on. He could feel his release approach fast.

 his head lolled back as he let out another throaty moan, his voice hoarse, and the burning sensation in his whole body made him wonder if he wasn't in flames or anything. He could feel himself tremble and moan my name… he was close.

 “fuck” y/n, kitten… M’close.”

 I  just hummed again, and he came down my throat. I moaned a little surprised but eagerly slurped everything up that he would give me. cleaning him up with my tongue, panting for air as i opened my mouth, showing him that i indeed swallowed every last drop of him. A low possessive growl left his throat as he grabbed her jaw and leaned down to capture me into a deep kiss, tasting himself on my tongue. tongues twirled around each other, fighting for dominance before I caved in, and he had full access, ravishing my mouth. 

“That good, Daddy?” micking him from earlier.

 “Jump!” He growled. I jumped, and he easily caught my thick thighs as I wrapped them around his waist.

“kitten” He purred, his face nuzzling into my hair.  

“Eddie Please… I need you!” I moaned.

He hummed as he made his way to our bedroom. But not before he grabbed the bottle of syrup. Laying me down on the bed, he leaned up and poured the rest of the syrup on the both of us before he hovered over me. breaching my entrance before he sunk into my welcoming heat, my velvet walls hugging him close as he rolled his hips, steadily sinking into me.

 “Fuck… You’re so fuck’n tight, kitten” He moaned, i was a mewling mess underneath him, wrapping my arms around his neck, pulling him closer to kiss him, which he happily obliged to. He caged my head with his arms as he kissed me, taking his sweet time to do so. I gasped for air, and we moaned in unison as he bottomed out in me.

“Son of a bitch…” he growled. I could feel him twitch as I squeezed around him, urging him to move.

 “Move p-please”

 He watched me hungrily. His once crimson eyes were now completely swallowed by the dark of his pupils. Predatory. I felt exposed and wanted at the same time. I moaned and wiggled my hips, again trying to coax him to finally move. He groaned and retreated almost completely. When I was about to protest, he snapped his hips back into my aching pussy… hard. Screaming loudly, smirking.

“Mine” he growls “this… belongs to me forever.”

I nodded, unable to form coherent words at the moment. I absolutely loved it when he got this possessive. I moaned into his neck, licking up some syrup in the process. 

Eddie started to pull back again, snapping his hips back into my welcoming heat, my warm walls hugging him all so nicely, pulling him in. He groaned my name, pushing inside of me again, a quick and brutal pace, which made the bed groan with the amount of force he pushed into me. my eyes rolled back as I panted and moaned helplessly. I could feel him everywhere, pushing and pushing against my sensitive spots deep inside. I bit his neck hard, not being able to draw blood. He let out a loud growl at the sensation. The growl rumbled his chest. He took my chin and roughly moved to the side. My neck was presented to him, and he bit me immediately. His fangs were painful but pleasurable as he pounded into me. 

There was a burning sensation in my abdomen. I felt like my world was spinning from the loss of blood, an almost animalistic instinct to be prey for the predator on top of me. Normally, he was not this aggressive, only sometimes when I begged him. But this time? He wanted this himself, feeling like this was the only way he could actually get relief. I wasn't scared of him. He knew my limit. He detached his fangs from my neck when he felt me go limp a little.  

 “Such a good girl, so nice and delicious”

He could feel me squeeze around him. He smiled, I was letting him know that I was still with him. looking at me in my glazed over eyes. He kisses my face gently. 

I lazily held my legs up. The new position gave him a new angle, hitting my sweet spot deep inside of me with precision. I could feel my eyes roll back once more as I moaned helplessly. I could feel the hot lava in my abdomen pool as he continued to penetrate my pussy in all the good ways.

 “D-daddy! P-please”

 “Shh, kitten, It’s alright”

He pounded into me, my moans spurning him on as he felt that knot tighten steadily. he could feel my legs twitch and quiver against his waist, and he could feel himself getting closer to the edge as well, his hips started to sputter in their rhythm a little as he moaned.

"That's it, Kitten, Cum for me.” I squeezed around him cumming as soon as he gave me permission. his breath came out more erratic as he finally stumbled over the edge as well. He moaned my name as he felt himself cum inside of me, filling me up. we were panting when we slowly came down from our high, still joined together. 

“You just fucked the life out of me.” I gave a breathy chuckle.

 “That's not funny, i thought i went overboard this time sucking your blood” he frowns a little.

 “I love you” I sighed as I reached up to touch his face.

“I love you too.” He answered with a soft chuckle, the effect finally wearing a bit down again. He pulled out, staring at his cum that slowly dripped out of my spent pussy. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked softly.

“I'm ok baby, I promise. Also, happy one year anniversary." I grin up at him. i finally regained my breath and strength.

“Happy anniversary, baby girl. ready for round two in the shower?” he grins back at me.  

"Most definitely." i say quickly, trying to race to the bathroom with wobbly legs. causing him to chuckle after me.

Masterlist

2023

#kas eddie munson #vampire eddie x reader #vampire eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson scenarios #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson smut #joseph quinn #stranger things #Spotify

[acertainmoshke]

Let's Talk About Notion

So, I use Notion for plenty of non-writing things to keep myself organized, but the main thing I use it for is writing. And I love it because it can be simple--just pages nested within pages and including lists or paragraphs--or as complex as you need. The template I use for keeping track of my novels I did pay $20 for, but that was to the random person who put in all the time and effort and not to the company. There are free templates and if you put in the time to figure it out, you can make the complex ones yourself. And I do have a side page to just add pages for random ideas and not clutter my official system.

Anyway.

This is the front page of my favorite Notion template ever, WIP. I can add as many projects as I'm working on, complete with cover pages (which I use just to be thematic but if I had actual covers I could upload those too) and summaries, but those aren't the practical parts. Based on the word count goal I entered, it tells me how close I am, as well as calculating how many book pages each takes up and how long it would take to read.

There are also tabs for concept stories that I'm still planning and don't want to count towards my word count goal yet, and archived ones that I'm putting on hold.

under the projects section, still on the front page, I have word count cards where I can enter my daily word count and it automatically updates the goal based on the end word count goal for all active projects and the date I said I wanted to finish each.

If I open one of my projects, it gives me all this info in what is technically the header. I entered the summary, genre, dates, and goals, but it calculated the rest.

That page includes chapters, which I can put in different stages of development, name, and move around; characters to keep track of, which I can attach to relevant chapters, and tasks I don't really use but they work as a checklist. That may be more useful when I'm in the 3rd draft and editing.

Below all of that there's also a storyboard. I don't use it for TDATS and I don't really want to share the one I do use regularly, but basically they're pages attached to various chapters and you can use them as scenes or events to plot out the story, move things around, and get an idea of what's happening before writing.

I prefer to write my actual stories in Word, but I could write them here directly in the chapters. There's also a spot to include specific words used or introduced in a chapter. Most of what I use these for is keeping track of word count, because you have to add them to the chapters for them to be added together into the project total. But it calculating how long it takes to read each chapter is certainly fun.

Anyway, you should definitely use Notion--there are other writing templates if you want something free or just different, and you don't have to use templates at all, but as a chaotic neurodivergent author, this has seriously helped my organization and planning.

The website is notion.so and there's desktop and mobile apps and the service itself is free. I guess there is a pro version but I think that's only useful if you're trying to use it as a team for work.

#moshke writes #writeblr #notion

[lazysunjade]

2024 simblr resolutions:

new year, new aesthetic: "idgaf"

finish Chosen of the Sun

post more often

play sims 3...?

more interior posts

modern AU

resurrect the fallen (wcif naiven. kerrigans? never met em)

lower my standards challenge impossible

I'll be honest, after reviewing the astounding lack of posts I made this year, I was a bit sad and a bit ashamed. part of me wants to go back to doing stuff that I used to years ago, even if just to see if it still brings me any joy. whether it does or not, I want 2024 to be the year I start caring less about hitting impossible benchmarks and holding myself to brutal standards just to fail anyways, and start just posting things that make me happy. that means no more locking myself in to one particular theme or content type. I've had an itch to actually post interiors again. and maybe I'll even post some sims 3 stuff to this blog. I think I'll still primarily stay in Blender because it makes me happiest, but some things are too much effort. very likely you will be seeing more modern and less fantasy content on this blog, because it's less stressful and quicker to make. I do miss some of my older sims and families, but also I won't lie. I'm happiest posting Yeryn, still, I'll at least put in some effort to expand the roster.

I'm not committing to any big new projects but I've an idea to do something a bit different from my usual stories with the Yeryn modern AU. the format will be completely new for me, and not as confining as things like CotS or even legacy. I put it on the list but I don't expect to make much headway, I just want to give myself a push to try and see if I like it.

anyways thanks for sticking around with me, especially considering I almost entirely moved away from the game this year, and y'all still supported me and followed my posts and love you for it, truly. I think a year's break and changes in game and out has given me a much needed rest and some perspective. all I really want for the new year is to be more active and make stuff I love and not have any regrets when the clock strikes midnight a year from today. let 2024 be the year we all be a little messy if that means more damn posts on dash

Happy New Year's to all of you!

#jade babbles #year in review #fav pics post to follow shortly ~woo~

[unforth]

I've been trying for ages to figure out how to put something into words about The Youth In Fandom and I still don't think I've quite got it but I did reach an insight about it that I think is valuable enough that I'm gonna take a stab at writing it.

For starters, I want to make it clear, there is no "The Youth In Fandom Problem." Based on my efforts running the art sideblogs for danmei fandoms, I can say with a fair degree of confidence that a vast minority of people of all ages are antis, purity wankers, pro-censorship, ageist, etc. Even among people who mark their bios with their age, it's a shockingly low percentage of people under 18 who are being super weird about this stuff, and I think that's something a lot of older folks bemoaning The Younger Generation could stand to know and be reminded of. This isn't a majority, it's just a vocal minority, and tbh...that vocal minority has always been there, at least in my own fandom experiences.

That said, I've personally been the target of "y r u in fandom, old woman? Go take care of your kids!" bullshit, and yes it's definitely real and yes it definitely happens. (I am not old, I am not a woman, I was here before the people who said that to me were born, and I spend all the rest of my time taking care of my kids, so...).

All that introduction is to posit a theory:

The kinds of people who say "you should grow out of it, you're too old for fandom, etc." don't actually really...like what they like.

I know that sounds batshit. They're here blogging about it 24/7, of course they're obsessed! But I really genuinely find myself wondering...like...are they actually obsessed? Or are they just performing obsessed because that's what their peer group is doing? Are they just following along with their friends, mimicking their friends' enthusiasm, going with the flow because they're scared of what will happen if they say "actually I didn't think that show was very good"?

I ended up with this as a theory to posit because is to arrive at "you should grow out of it," you have to start with "I will grow out of it." And to get to "I will grow out of it," you have to start with "I may be into this now but I will definitely Change." And to get to "I will definitely Change," you have to start with the base assumption that loving certain types of media isn't just part of who you are, but rather a temporary persona you've assumed overlaying some deeper Self that will be revealed with time - or that's already been revealed and that you're deliberately masking for whatever reason.

Lemme put it less abstractly (but more longwindedly, lmao).

When I was 16, I was fucking terrified. There were all these things I loved - Star Trek, Hercules and Xena, Babylon 5, Slayers, Evangelion, Fushigi Yuugi, the Wheel of Time, many others - some I'd been into for years, some I'd only just discovered. And I looked at the adults in the world around me, who didn't sleep with stuffed toys, who got into long-term romantic and sexual relationships, who settled into careers that they stuck with for 20, 30, 40 years, who had heaps of responsibilities, and it was so frightening I literally had trouble sleeping at night. My senior year of high school, I trained myself to sleep with a pillow instead of a stuffie because "what would people in college think if they saw me snuggling a stuffed wolf?" That was something I was prepared to sacrifice to be An Adult (tm), something I was (irrationally) ashamed of, something that wasn't so much a part of my personhood that I couldn't give it up. When I left home to go to school at 17, I left my wolf at home. (I brought him with me a year later, and he's now on my bookshelf. Less disposable than 16-year-old me thought, as it turns out, but that's another story.) But there were things about myself I wasn't prepared to sacrifice to fit in during college. I still wore my Star Wars shirt. I still hung my anime posters. I still listened to J Pop. My roommate might judge me. My classmates might judge me. My professors might judge me. I didn't care. Loving those were part of who I was, and I wasn't prepared to give that up.

I found solace by looking at the adults in my life who hadn't had to give up their "childish fancies." I looked at my mother, who introduced me to Star Trek, and thought if she didn't have to stop loving Star Trek to be An Adult, then why should I? I looked at my grandfather, on whose bookshelves I first found the Lord of the Rings, and thought if he didn't have to give up LotR to be An Adult, then why should I? They might not wear fandom shirts, they might not go to conventions, they might not engage in the same way that I did, but they still loved these things, and it gave me hope.

When I was saw adults who still did fan things, who dressed how they wanted, who had cool hair styles or colors, who had tattoos, I thought "wow, what a cool person. I hope I get to grow up to be like them. I hope I'll be that comfortable in my own skin when I'm that age, because I'm sure not that comfortable in my own skin NOW."

I'll have to change in some ways - find A Career, figure out this "attraction" thing everyone keeps fucking talking about, buy a house, all the rest - but I'll be able to love the things I love.

I will still be "me" when I'm an adult, just Me-Plus-More.

I wanted to grow up to be that adult. I was prepared to take figurative arrows, to fight, to slog through, to retain the part of me that felt most valuable - my ability to love the things I loved without apologizing for it. And I knew I could do that, because I already had. Man, the shit people gave me in middle school for being an out-and-proud Trekkie? smh. It was baaaaad.

Time passes. Now I'm 40, and yes, I have changed. I've had more than one career. I got married. I figured out I never did have to figure out that "attraction" shit because I learned asexuality existed and. uh. Oh. I had children. I bought a house.

And I still have a bookcase of manga and I still have a Tumblr blog and I've found new fandoms - many, many new fandoms - nearly all for franchises that didn't even exist when I was 16 and so so scared that I used to literally break down and cry over the prospect of "having" to "give up childish things."

I got myself through on the belief that I'd still be me, and I was right. More than 20 years later, I AM still me.

And that's what leads me back to "why do The Youth think they'll age out of fandom?" And it leads me back to "I can only assume their fandom participation is mostly performative." Because look. This is who I was when I was 10 and read Lord of the Rings, and it was who I was when I was 12 and I started watching Star Trek when Voyager debuted, and it's who I was when I was 17 and I pulled an all-nighter to watch the second season of Fushigi Yuugi, and it's who I was when I was 21 and spent my birthday totally sober and gaming with my friends, and it's who I was at 26 when I got buried up to my eyeballs in Supernatural, and it's who I was at 37 when I watched The Untamed and knew as easy as breathing oh my god I've found the next obsession.

If it's an embraced, realized, adored part of your persona, there's absolutely no reason to think it's going to go away. And there's no reason nor need for it to. There are always gonna be people who judge others for having passions, and there are always gonna be people who embrace others for having passions, and you just gotta identify and avoid the former and find and adore the latter. If you're young, and you love fandom, and you're afraid you, too, will "have to" give up childish things...congratulations! You've got nothing to be afraid of! You never have to change that aspect of yourself!

But...I know these teens on Tumblr who are bullying others already know that because they can see us everywhere. And instead of going, as I did, "oh wow, those older people who still love the things they love are cool! how reassuring! I can be like them!" they think "EW OLD PERSON NOT ALLOWED THIS IS MY ROOM DO NOT ENTER."

And that's weird. When I try to think, "What kind of mentality would lead someone to feel that way, act that way, etc.?" I arrive at: being in fandom is something that they're embarrassed about. Something they're ashamed of, that they think is shameful. Something childish and therefore only for kids, even when the media they're a fan of is entirely made for and by adults. Something they think is made for them in that moment but that they'll be able to easily discard when they move on to more important parts of their lives. Something they know in their heart is transient. Something they're just doing because their friends are doing it.

That's when they'd think "why would an adult still do this?"

When it's something you "know" will be "just a phase," you don it like you don the identity of "high school student," something that'll get shucked a minute after graduation.

And while I found the idea of giving up fandom terrifying, I again can only assume that for these type of person, NOT giving up fandom becomes something terrifying. "Of course this is transient. Of course I'm going to change. I can't wait to change, I hate who I am now! Why did these so-called adults not change? Changing to not like this kind of thing is a sign of Maturity and Adulthood that I am eagerly waiting for, because I believe there's something wrong with being this way, and therefore I assume the adults I see doing this are immature, have something wrong with them, are childish, cannot be Doing Adulthood Right, because they didn't give up the thing."

"I know, in my heart, that I can't WAIT to change, so if they don't want to change, if they haven't changed, something must be wrong with them."

And don't get me wrong, I'm not saying this is the only reason. People are way too complex for there ever to be One Explanation Of All. I'm sure some of the teens who engage in ageist bullying just think they're ~cool~ and ~different~ and their name is Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way. Others are just uncomfortable with adults, with or without cause, and think "you don't belong in the same space as me." Some surely have drank the conservative kool-aid even as they've tried to change and are pantomiming the bullshit they were fed by those around them in new and unpleasant ways. Some think "this media was made for people like me and anyone who isn't like me can't possibly be engaging it in the Correct And Proper Way."

Some will grow out of it - out of fandom, or out of thinking that being an adult in fandom is wrong/bad/inappropriate/immature/whatever.

A few especially unpleasant ones...won't.

Unlike young!me, who looked at fannish grown ups and thought "wow, I could grow up to be like them, they're so cool!", you think "ew, I hope I don't grow up to be like them, they're so weird!"

And if that's you...why are you here?

If you don't actually like who are you when you're in fandom, that's okay. You don't have to stay. If you lose your friends because your interests change, then those friends stink and you didn't need them anyway; people who actually care about you will always keep by your side even if your interests and theirs diverge. But just cause YOU are performing your interest in fandom...doesn't mean the rest of us are. Some of us genuinely like it here. And you might think that's fucked up of us, but it's honestly none of your fucking business. You do what you gotta do to grow up, and leave the rest of us already-grown-ups alone.

And if you do genuinely love it and you're just scared because you think you'll have to change - that you'll reach some mystical age of majority and suddenly wake up a different person...you won't. For better and for worse, you'll still be you, so if there's things about yourself you don't like, it'd be better to start working on unpacking that psychological baggage now, because there's never gonna be a miracle point where you Feel Better And Like An Adult unless you put in the effort to change.

Teenagers...you will not grow up to be a new person. You will never give up who you are. You will grow up to be You-Plus-More.

And if that's something you hear and go "omg that's great news!" then I'm glad to be the one who told you. Take heart. There's hope. You can be you and that WILL be okay. You can face up to and grow from the things about yourself you don't like. You can learn more about yourself. You have time, and you will be able to improve yourself, to become more like the parts of yourself you like and less like the parts you hate.

And if that's something you hear and go "oh god no that's the worst" then you need to stare that reaction in the face and understand that the only way change is coming is if you make it happen for yourself. No one is strong-arming you into being a fan. If it's not for you...then stop. It's literally that easy. But don't take out your uncertainty and fear on other random people who are more comfortable with themselves than you are. Most of us are not here because of fear. We're here in the face of our fear, as a fuck you to our fear, because we also grew up being told we'd have to give up so-called childish things to be An Adult, and it turns out that was a pile of bullshit and we can have careers AND anime posters. And we can afford more anime posters, cause our parents are no longer telling us how to spend our money.

If your participation in fandom is primarily performative...just stop performing. Be yourself, and find your OWN passion, and stop shitting on the people who have managed to be more true to themselves and their own interests. You're not cool and edgy and different; you're just an asshole and a bully, and I pity you.

Anyway as you can tell from this rambly mess of a post, I haven't really gotten my finger on my point yet, but idk. I've been thinking about this and I think there's something there???

#unforth rambles #drama #hopefully now that I've written this I can finally get it out of my head #my posts like this pretty much always flop but that's okay #if it helped me think things out for myself #about why some people are Like That #then its job is done #anyway I wrote this post in between helping my daughter get dressed #and getting my son on the bus #and making tea #and straightening up the living room #and now i gotta start work in three minutes #the big difference between teen me and adult me is that now I have to fit the fanning into these miniscule windows of time #between all the More Important Things That Need Done #it's tiring but it's worth it

[twst-drabbles]

Can I ask you and your following,what lines do or want to add to a fic but never could put in.This could be twst related or not.

'Of course, Everybody seems to forget I came out the coffin like the rest of you"

Oh boy time to dig into my notes! Okay okay, see whenever I can't get any prose writing done, I end up writing down a bunch of quotes and lines and other such things that I think could be cool but had to cut out cause it didn't fit anywhere. So I just have them stored away on a file until I find the opportunity to use them

To Vil, there is no such thing as a person born ugly. You are made ugly, by your own hand, by your own lack of care and recklessness.

Many of these lines I have are usually associated with the Eldritch AU, just cause I want that AU to have my best efforts.

Fire. A tall wall of blue flame, stoked up high as the trees planted around them. They enclosed you inside with the ink monster that had aided him since the start. “Of course. I feel invincible in this silent world. “See, exhaustion is a very human thing, and many creatures in my world fail to replicate it, especially when they’re singing. “For some reason, a lot of the monster’s I’ve encountered are usually tone deaf.”

Like, I have lots of them, it's kinda hilarious.

"so, for an impatient one like you, who wanted to pry into all my little secrets well before I would be willing to give them,“ you snapped the papers sharply against your palm, ”these precious treasures will forever be lost to you. “I would have, had you bothered to ask,” and yet, Azul didn’t. …Nothing more than simple paranoia. Not caution, not deliberating one’s actions, paranoia. He assumed the worst out of someone who barely arrived, however… “Y-you can hardly blame me for thinking such things when you consider just how many mysteries surround you. I had to practice caution, lest I let myself be exposed.” “What an odd way you show that caution of yours, Azul Ashengrotto. You were wary of me, that much I was certain, but you were more concerned in how you could possibly have me under you.”

The thing about me is the fact that I'm actually pretty good at writing dialogue, but I usually end up opting for little to none, cause it makes my drabbles too long. Beyond playing RPG's, I also play a fuckton of visual novels in my free time, so my writing has been influenced as such.

“Azul,” you relaxed back against the chair in the newly repaired lounge, “you started this game. You should have known better than to arouse my curiosity.” Stare into the abyss long enough and it shall stare back at you. And what are shadows to do but to hunt the light within your eyes? “Caution dictated that you would poke and prod to see what my role within all these strange happenings is. I can’t say I blame you for doing such a thing. But, you hold no respect towards me. You wanted me to be another tool, another link upon the chain you’ve built to seal away the vault of your weaknesses. And what am I to do, but to open that vault?”

Lot of them is just Eldritch Prefect honestly, though not all of them.

"Magic depends on imagination, and a lot of the time you can't imagine shit when you're panicking."

That line is said by the Janitor Prefect. Don't know the context for that one, I was just trying to get their voice right in my head. Sorta tired, sorta grumpy, but ultimately very knowledgeable on a lot of different subjects.

"'It can't be helped.' I've been told those words many, many times. 'This is just the way things are, you have to understand it. It cannot be stopped. It be like trying to stop the currents, to turn the sands into snow.' From childhood to even now, I've always been told this, but I knew what they were saying. 'Give up on your brother. On your family. You can't reverse your mistake.'"

As soon as I get around to finishing my current event, I think I'm going to be doing Valenio next. No choices to be made with this one, just a straight line of a story, but a story nonetheless.

Man I really wish I was good with art so I can make decent visual novels. Oh well.

#admin #NRClutter #eldritch au #janitor au #vil #azul #valenio mara #valenio #vil schoenheit #azul ashengrotto #twst oc

[fangirlwriting-stories]

Before I Go

Chapter One

AO3 Link

Author's Note: Hey, for anyone who got worried at the long break between chapters, I promise I haven't abandoned this story! It's probably going to come out a lot slower because I have many different responsibilities right now both fandom and real life, so I haven't had much time to work on it. I'm also definitely finding myself more of a casual fan of Sanders Sides than I used to be. But I want to finish the series, whenever that happens, and I want to finish this fic. It just might take a little bit longer than it would have, so I'm going to thank you in advance for your patience, and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Chapter Nine:

Roman sat on the couch with Virgil for a long time after sending Janus back in to Remus, and neither of them said anything.  Virgil laid against the back of the couch with his eyes closed, breathing in a clear effort to calm himself down.

Roman wasn’t sure what to say to him.  He hadn’t heard all of what Janus yelled at him, just the end about both of them invading his life.  But it had clearly gotten to Virgil, if the look on his face said anything.

Oh, maybe that was something to talk about.

Roman leaned back hesitantly next to him.  “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Shut up,” Virgil said.

Roman sighed, exasperated.  “Okay,” he said.

Virgil looked over at him and groaned.  “No,” he said.  “Obviously not.  What do you want from me?”

“It wasn’t a question, it was an offer to talk,” Roman said.

“Then why not just say that?”

“Because I kind of had a feeling saying ‘Do you want to talk about it’ to you would go about as well as Remus’ first coming out.”

Virgil snorted, and Roman took a moment to just be glad the joke didn’t fall flat.

“That’s probably true,” Virgil muttered.  He leaned back against the couch and shut his eyes again.  Roman wasn’t sure if he was going to say anything else, but he didn’t push.

Finally, Virgil did speak again.  “I’m so fucking worried about him.”

“Remus?”

Virgil shook his head.  “Janus.”

Roman blinked.  “Janus?”

“He’s not…” Virgil said, and trailed off, opening his eyes again.  “He’s a selfish person.”

“Uh.  What?”

“It’s not an insult, it’s a fact,” Virgil said, turning to look at him.  Roman saw worried sincerity in his eyes.  “Janus is selfish.  He values personal time and self care and he puts himself first.  He’s not built for being someone’s caretaker while they slowly die next to him.  I mean— no one is, really.  But he’s especially not.”

Roman nodded slowly.  “I could believe that,” he said.

“And he’s such a prick,” Virgil said, seemingly more to himself than to Roman.  “Like, sure, yell at the guy who’s trying to admit he was in the wrong for not realizing in a timeframe that’s convenient to you.  I didn’t leave because I didn’t care.   I— fucking hell.  He’s such a goddamn asshole and I can’t—” he stopped, burying his head in his hands.  “But I’m worried,” he said, muffled by his hands still in front of his face.

Roman didn’t say anything.  He didn’t know Janus like Virgil did, he didn’t know what to say or how to help.  He’d had one solution in his book before all of this when he started getting sad about Remus, and that was to distract himself.  That wasn’t exactly an option anymore.

Or, actually, maybe it was, just a little bit.  In a different way.

“Hey,” Roman said, leaning forward towards Virgil again.  “Do you want to go do something?”

Virgil turned to him in confusion.  “Like what?”

“Something fun,” Roman said.  “Remus and Janus are gonna be resting today, and I think it would probably be easier for both of them if we weren’t here.”

Virgil winced, but didn’t disagree.

“So let’s just go do something.  Something fun, so we can think about something else for a bit.”

Virgil turned to Roman with a smirk.  “What, you mean like a date?”

Roman sputtered.  “Wh- no I didn’t mean— I meant like—”

“You asking me on a date, Roman?”

“I’m engaged—”

Virgil laughed, leaning over slightly, and Roman stopped talking and watched him, feeling that same spark of something in his chest from karaoke.

“Relax,” Virgil said, pulling up with a grin.  “I’m kidding.  That sounds like a good idea.  In fact, I know what we can do.”

Roman shook himself and stood up.  “What’s that?”

“I’ll introduce you to Logan and Patton.”

…

Virgil’s apartment was much much smaller than Janus and Remus.’  The kitchen was small enough to the point of practically being useless, or at least it seemed like it to Roman.  It was connected to the living room, and there wasn’t really a dining room at all, just a table they’d set up in front of the stove.  There was a tiny hallway, and Roman could see the back of it from the entryway, with two bedrooms and a third door that must have been a bathroom, and that was it.

“Logan!” Virgil called.  “I’m back!  I brought the prick for you to meet!”

Roman balked, turning to look at Virgil.  “Excuse me?”

The door on the left of the hallway opened and “Logan” stepped out, and Roman was met with the most boring looking gay person he’d ever met.

He was wearing a polo shirt and a tie, for Pete’s sake, and a pair of jeans.  He had the most function over form glasses Roman could imagine, and even his facial expression was blank and boring.

“Hello,” Roman said anyway, because he was polite, and he held out a hand.  Logan shook it, raising an eyebrow.

“So you’re the one who let your brother live in the streets,” he said.

Roman pulled his hand back instantly.  “What— oh honestly, is that how everyone is going to know me?”

“Yes,” Virgil said, patting him on the shoulder as he walked over towards Logan, not seeming all that sympathetic.

Roman gave a long sigh before turning to face Logan again.  “Well hello anyway,” he said.  “It’s nice to meet you.  Virgil’s spoken highly of you.”

“I cannot say the same,” Logan said plainly.  “So you’re here for your brother, then?”

“I… yes,” Roman said, looking away.  He cleared his throat.  “Or I’m trying to be.”

There was a moment’s pause, and then Logan said, “Very well.”

Roman turned to face him and saw Logan’s judgmental look had faded a little.

“I would not wish to judge you based entirely on something that happened before I met you ,” he said.  “Would you like to sit?”  He turned to gesture towards the living room.

Roman hesitantly made his way over to the armchair and sat in it, and a second later Virgil moved over and flopped onto half the couch, taking up way more space than Roman would have expected of him.

Logan, however, just gave a fond sigh and moved to sit on the other part of the couch.  “Well, Virgil, I hope things have started going better?”

Virgil winced, and sat up again, looking more like Roman was used to from his admittedly small knowledge of him.  “Uh, not exactly,” he said.  “I… I really don’t know what I’m doing, Lo.  It’s like Janus is an entirely different person from what I knew.  I mean I know we haven’t talked in a long time, but still.”  He sighed.  “I really don’t want to think about it right now.  We kind of came here to get away from that for a bit, can we just talk?”

“Of course,” Logan said, giving Virgil a small smile.  Virgil smiled back and relaxed back into the couch, and for a moment, Roman’s chest ached with jealousy at the obvious comfort and safety between the two.  Then Logan started talking and he refocused on him.

“Work has been exciting lately,” he said, his face brightening.  “We have been working with the science center in order to make the Chemistry exhibit for the fall.”

“Yeah?” Virgil said with a grin.  “I bet the kids are going to love it.”

“I think so as well,” Logan said, his lips turning up in a smile of his own.  “After all, what child doesn’t love exploring chemical formulas and science?”

Roman exchanged a glance with Virgil, who gave a firm but subtle shake of his head, but then said, “So your partner is in charge of design then, right?” he said with another pointed look to Logan.  It wasn’t really needed.  Yeah, Logan wasn’t seeming like he’d be the most creative designer in regards to making science fun, but it was pretty clear he wanted to make something the kids would enjoy.

But then Logan responded with, “Indeed.  Marianne is in charge of form and I am in charge of substance.  It is where we work best.”

Immediately Virgil wrinkled his nose and turned back to Logan.  “Wait, Marianne?  They stuck you with her again?  Has she at least stopped hitting on you?”

Logan shifted uncomfortably and sighed.  “No.”

Virgil groaned.  “Ah, hell.   Sorry, Lo.”

“It is alright.  I have not led her on, and if she continues to be this insistent anyway, well, at least she makes for a good cover.”

Roman winced and looked away.  He knew what that was like.

“Still,” Virgil said.  “If you want her to leave you alone—”

“There is not a way you can safely intervene,” Logan said, giving Virgil a look.  “Besides, she is more or less harmless.  And I do like her, she is incredibly bright and interesting to debate with.”

Logan turned to Roman the next second, and Roman startled, surprised at the sudden motion.  “I apologize Roman, we seem to have started talking about things you may not understand.  Do you know much about chemistry?”

“Uh, not really,” Roman said, rubbing the back of his neck.  “I mean, Remus always wanted to learn how to build a bomb back in high school, but not since then.”

“Well I cannot help you there,” Logan said drily.  “I am not in the habit of making bombs.”

“Oh thank goodness,” Roman said with a slightly amused smile.  “I wasn’t asking, I just… I’m not a scientist, I’m an artist.  That’s what I was getting at.”

“Well, I am afraid I do not know much about the arts,” Logan said.  “Aside from the horror movies Virgil has made me watch.  We might not have much in common on that front.”

Roman bit his lip.  “No, probably not on that front,” he said, and didn’t elaborate.  “But I am glad you get to do something you like so much,” he said, shifting to a smile.  “You sound like you’ve got a good thing going.”

“It is enjoyable,” Logan agreed with a nod.  “I am well satisfied with the way my life has gone.”

“Now all we need is a bigger apartment,” Virgil said with a roll of his eyes.

“I’m kind of surprised you can’t afford one,” Roman admitted.  “You’re a scientist, aren’t you?  Don’t they make decent money?”

Both Logan and Virgil went quiet and turned to look at him.

“…what?”

“We can afford it, Roman,” Virgil said.  “That’s not the problem.”

“Wh- then what—”

“Our current landlord is a private person,” Logan said.  “He does not ask questions.  He takes payment that we can always afford and that’s that.  We cannot afford to give up that safety for the potential of a larger apartment.”

Roman realized what they were saying, and bit his lip, looking down.  “…oh.”

He really didn’t know anything, did he?

There were a couple awkward seconds of silence, and then Logan cleared his throat.  “It is not a large issue,” he said.  “We are comfortable here.  We have the space that we absolutely need.  We each have our own bedroom.  It is not unsustainable.”

“I still want to put some kind of painting up in the kitchen,” Virgil said, in a transparent attempt to change the subject.  “I want some kind of nature scene that makes it feel like we have a window there.”

“Oh!” Roman brightened.  “I could make you one!  Do you have a preference on season, or landscape, or what’s present in the scene?”

They both looked at him for a moment, seeming surprised.  Roman cleared his throat.

“I like painting,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.  “I don’t get to do it too often, but I really enjoy it.  Just, if you want me to make you one.  I won’t charge you or anything.”

Virgil smiled at him just a little.  “Okay,” he said.  “You’ve got yourself a deal.  If you’re good with that, Logan?”

“It sounds amiable,” Logan agreed with a nod.  “I would not mind something with stars.  Perhaps aurora borealis?”

“Huh?” Roman asked, tipping his head.

“Northern lights,” Virgil explained.  “And I’d like that too.  How about that with some mountains?  And can you add a bit of a spook vibe?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Roman said with a bright smile and a nod.  “I might get Remus to help me with that part, if he’s up to it.”

Virgil’s smile widened a little bit.  “Heck yeah,” he said.  “Remus is good with that stuff.”

“He is,” Roman agreed, smiling wider himself.  It felt really nice to talk about Remus with people who actually liked him.  He hadn’t realized how much he missed that.

A knock on the door interrupted them, and Virgil jumps up and runs, actually sprints, over to the door when Roman had barely processed it happened.

Roman turned in surprise to see Virgil yank the door open and pull someone in, someone wearing a baseball cap with a NASA logo on it and sunglasses that covered his face.

Virgil slammed the door shut behind him and then the person let out what sounded like a relieved breath and pulled the hat and sunglasses off to reveal a kind face with other glasses underneath.

“Virgil,” he said, turning to wrap Virgil in his arms.  “You doing okay, kiddo?  I’m sorry I haven’t seen you since all this happened.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Virgil said, pulling back and giving the person a serious look.  “Did anyone see you?”

“Nope, I’m all good!” the person said with a bright smile.  “Or I’m ball good!  Thanks for the hat, Lo!”

Logan sighed, though he seemed to have been expecting the pun.  “Hello, Patton.  It is, somehow, good to see you.”

“It’s great to see you too kiddo!” Patton called as he and Virgil started over towards the couch and chair.

“And you must be Roman,” Patton said, turning with a smile towards him as he approached.  “It’s great to meet you.”  He stuck out his hand, and Roman smiled back and stood to shake it, though he still felt a little off balance.

“Good to meet you too,” he said.  “Can I ask why you seem to be sneaking over here?”

Patton’s smile didn’t fade, but it did turn a bit sad as he replied.  “I’m a priest, kiddo,” he said.  “For a group of not very accepting people.  It wouldn’t be a good thing if they saw me out and about with Virgil and Logan.”

Roman blinked, looking Patton up and down and finding a light blue polo and a cardigan.  “You’re a… priest?”

Patton had an amused smile when Roman’s gaze landed back on his face.  “Were you picturing a long robe with a stole and a cross necklace?”

“Uh,” Roman said.  “Maybe?”

Patton laughed.  “Stop by on Sunday then,” he said with a wink.

Roman wasn’t quite sure what to say to that.  Thankfully, after a second Virgil took up the conversation again by asking if Patton wanted anything to drink.

“I’m alright kiddo, but thank you,” Patton said.

“So you three know each other pretty well, then?” Roman asked curiously.

“I’d say so!” Patton said.  “Virgil and I met a couple years ago, but Logan and I have known each other since we were kids.  And it feels like we’ve known Virgil way longer anyway.” 

“You’ve known each other since you were kids?” Roman asked in surprise.

“Well, we lost touch for a while after high school,” Patton admitted with a slightly sad smile.  “Before either of us realized we were gay, unfortunately.  We met again after I became a priest and after Logan had become a chemist.”

“It was quite relieving when he turned out to be gay as well,” Logan admitted with a quiet smile.  “It was… deeply worrying.”

“I’ll say,” Patton said with a laugh of his own, but Roman heard the slight tension in both their voices.  He had a feeling figuring this out was a little more difficult and stressful than the two of them wanted to remember.

Roman thought, for the first time in a long while, of when Remus first told him he was gay.  The way Roman had started to sob in relief, because Remus being gay meant that he would understand.  That Roman wasn’t going to lose his brother.

And then he lost his brother anyway.  Through no one’s fault but his own.

“Anyway,” Virgil said, and Roman snapped to attention, realizing he’d zoned out of the conversation.  “I don’t know about you guys, but I want lunch.  Roman, do you have a standard pizza order?”

“As long as it’s not Hawaiian or anchovies, I’m good,” Roman said.

“Easy, I like it,” Virgil said.  “Lo, come make the phone call while I write down the order.”

“You know, one of these days you’re going to have to learn how to make phone calls by yourself, Virgil,” Logan said, even as he stood.

“And yet that day is not today, Logan,” Virgil said as they walked into the kitchen.

Patton laughed a little as he watched them go, then turned to Roman as they walked out of view.

“So, I’ve heard a bit from Virgil about you,” he said with a sympathetic smile.  “It doesn’t sound like you’ve had an easy life.”

“Who has,” Roman muttered, looking away, but then he paused.  “Um, Patton?” he asked, turning back around.  “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure kiddo, go for it.”

“Why did you become a priest?”

“Oh, that,” Patton said with a laugh.  “I was trying to pray the gay out of myself.”

Roman startled.  “You— what?”

Patton shrugged, a sad smile on his face but still seeming relatively at ease.  “I was trying to fix myself,” he said again.  “It wasn’t a very good time in my life.  But you don’t have to worry, I’m in a much better headspace now.”

Roman looked at him for a second.  “…How did you do that?” he asked, finally.  “I mean— not that you have to answer, like it’s private and we just met, and—”

“Kiddo, it really is okay,” Patton said with a smile.  “I don’t mind talking about it.  Though honestly, it was just a lot of self reflection and a lot of listening.  Meeting Logan again helped, and other gay people too.  Realizing what I’d been taught as a kid wasn’t accurate.  And that the gay community needs my help a lot more than my parish does most of the time, even if they’re part of my personal community too.”

“So you stayed a priest because you wanted to?” Roman asked in slight surprise.  “Even though it’s putting you in danger?”

Patton smiled at him.  “Well, first of all, I believe in a God that went as far as to die for me,” he said.  “And in that regard… well, I would hardly be the only member of my community dying if I ended up doing the same, would I?”

Roman didn’t say anything.

“The church can do good,” Patton said, leaning forward to rest his hands on his knees.  “And I believe we can also do more than that in doing better.”

Roman looked at him for another moment.  He bit his lip.  “Can— can I talk to you again?” he asked hesitantly.

Patton lit up.  “Of course, kiddo!” he said.  “I’d love that.”

“Alright,” Virgil called, and Roman and Patton both looked over towards the kitchen as he and Logan walked back in.  “Pizza should be here in thirty.  Until then, Patton, it has been too long and we need to catch up.”

Roman sat back a little bit as Patton smiled brightly and moved to face Virgil and Logan, and instead watched the three of them talk.  They were all very clearly relaxed, and they seemed easygoing and happy as they talked with each other.  None of it was something Roman tended to think of when he thought of other people like him.

Well, that would probably continue to be the case once he got back home, but still.  The respite was nice.

#sanders sides #roman sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #creativitwins #platonic prinxiety #for now #platonic analogical #platonic royality #tw dying #my fic

[faulty-writes]

Hii! Can i request headcanons of what bakugo will do if he meets someone who is usually different from other girls?

Like ua came in collab with another school, but somehow alot of girls seems to get attached to him but then he meets this one girl who always has headphones on (the reader) and doesnt even care about him?

like if you know stranger things, you know max right? Like the reader is similar to max

[ Ah, yes. More love for my boy Kacchan. I actually don't watch Stranger Things BUT the way you describe this actually reminds me of the Vigilantes manga, specifically Christoper Skyline's wife Pamela. She HATED his guts when they first met, but their love story in Chapter 52 is just so damn adorable <3 I can't stand it. So I'll use that as inspiration to make this because I think it's a super cute concept. ]

He hated this. Why Yuuei had decided to collaborate with another school was beyond him. He didn't need to form relationships with other heroes, he was gonna be number one regardless of who or what stood in his way. "This is stupid, goddamn it!" he growled, practically foaming at the mouth. "Ah, come on Bakubro!" Eijirou said, trying to be encouraging but his efforts were met with failure.

"I can't stand it! Why is he getting all the hot babes!?" Mineta exclaimed as he watched yet another girl approach Katsuki, confessing their feelings to him or just bluntly telling him how attractive he was. "I don't know, but not all of them are like that," Kaminari said, pointing to you and taking notice of the unusual and slightly oversized headphones you wore.

"Fuck off already!" he snapped at the girl in front of him, thinking nothing of it as he watched her grow teary-eyed before running away. "Pff, dumbass," he commented, crossing his arms. He was about to glance away when he spotted you leaning against a tree with your eyes focused on your phone and your headphones on. 'Who the hell is that and why isn't she crazy like the rest of these extras?' he thought but shrugged it off.

You caught his attention after he had stopped a common thief and girls flocked around him screaming praise. You merely glared at him as you walked by which caused him to grow confused. 'It's that damn girl again...' he thought. 'Just like the last time, I saw you. What the hell is your problem!? Pff...guess I'll have to find out myself!' and with that, he had a new mission.

"What's your damn problem, eh!?" he screamed at you one morning, he had been keeping tabs on you and knew that you woke up before everyone else so that you could take a private walk. However, you looked at him with an eyebrow raised and much like before, continued walking. "Hey dumbass I'm talking to you!" he growled, but his words had little effect on you.

"What the hell will this dumbass plan accomplish!?" he hissed at Eijirou who regrettably was the only one he had mentioned you to. "It'll catch her attention Bakubro! You gotta trust me, I'm the manliest guy around and I know a thing or two about impressing a fine lady!" Katsuki rolled his eyes, but he had no choice but to go along with what Eijirou planned.

Your fist against his cheek was the last thing he expected to feel when he forcibly picked you up and shot the two of you into the air. Eijirou had suggested that the atmosphere may be romantic but it was having the opposite effect and he nearly dropped you when you began squirming and demanding to be put back down.

The collaboration program at Yuuei was coming to an end and Katsuki was still desperate to figure you out. "What's with those damn headphones you're always wearing anyway!?" he questioned one night when he saw you sitting all alone on the porch. You only offered him a shrug in response which made him angrier.

"Why don't you flock to me like those other damn girls and why the hell won't you talk to me!?" he snapped at you during a training exercise, ironically enough you had wound up on the same team and part of him hated that. However, to his surprise, you answered him and he quickly learned how poorly you viewed him. You made it a point that he was nothing but a buffoon and that his actions were anything but heroic.

On the last day of the program, he felt like he had no choice but to walk up to you with a flower in hand. "Here...not that I give a damn what you think about me but since I won't see your damn face again I got you...this stupid flower..." to his surprise a smile come to your face when you proceeded to take the flower and sniff it. His eyes widened as you single-handedly brought him to heel and from that point on, he wanted to be the only one to make you smile.

#katsuki x reader #katsuki x you #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou x y/n #bnha x y/n #bnha x reader #bnha x you #faulty writes: katsuki bakugou scenario #faulty writes: katsuki bakugou: headcanons

[maiverie]

hello <3 i finally started reading triage and i laughed too hard reading the first chap :'D i loved the chemistry jokes sm (im still finding a time to read the rest but unfortunately it's almost time for school again) you're actually my fav author here in blr !!! your writing is just so well-written and that might be an understatement bcs it's just so good ??? i think no simple words can explain how amazing of an author you are <3 like the way you deliver the words and how you let readers imagine the little scenarios you make like it's so cool <3

(sorry if this is too long but) i also came here to ask you for advice hehe. im kind of a newbie here in blr and im currently working on my upcoming series.. and im unsatisfied with my progress and found myself deleting my drafts (for abt two times already ??) and i want to know how to be more confident in my writings and how not to overthink too much yk ?? would really love to hear your thoughts on this. you're not only a good author but a good advisor too !!! thank u sm <33

hi lexine (nice to meet u !!), stopppp YOU ARE TOOOO nice thank you sooo much for taking the time out to write this??? 😭💖 firstly, thank you for reading triage and plsss nawt the bitchless chemistry jokes 😭 kidding I also giggled while writing those parts smh

and secondly, ur fav author??? STOP LYINGGG i consider that such a high honour so thank you so much 🥹💞 to have your support is one thing and to read such positive words is another, so again thank you for taking the time out of your day to leave this message because it just made my day :(

aaa please don't apologise because I love long asks the most, and yes ofc my asks are always open! I have a tendency to ramble so beware a long message is below the cut — nevertheless I really hope this helps! 🥹💞

I firstly just want to preface that I obviously do not know everything about writing and this is all truly just one opinion, so only take what resonates 🫶

I can only really speak from personal experience, but I think it's actually a really good thing that you're going back to your drafts, revising your writing, which may or may not include the process of deleting/restarting things. obviously it's a really gruelling experience to go through (bc there's nothing worse than deleting all ur hard work), but I think it's really admirable that you're thinking about your writing and putting in the effort to make it better with each draft !! personally, I am constantly writing and re-writing my drafts and as much as it literally HURTS MY SOUL to delete words/paragraphs/sometimes entire chapters, I genuinely enjoy this process — to me, that's what writing is kind of all about? I know to most people ff is really not that deep (they're not wrong, it doesn't have to be) but I think the fact you're practising deliberation, reflection and thought in your writing, word choice, characters, plot etc. etc. is really really amazing !!

personally, I would say the thing to keep in mind is that everything needs to be in moderation — I've had chapters that have literally taken me a fuckload of re-writes (I'm a big overthinker / slight perfectionist), and while I did initially enjoy the whole process of editing / re-writing / discovering how to change certain scenes etc, it was really really mentally draining and I ended up losing passion for the story in the end. just be careful that this might happen to you? to avoid this, maybe every time you've reached a block (where no matter how much you re-write something, you always seem to hate how it turns out) you should try find a different source of inspiration — whether that means thinking about your story/characters with a different song playing, or moving wherever you tend to write, or having someone brainstorm ideas with you / beta-read your fic, or take a few days off !!

out of curiosity, what don't you like about your first drafts? is it the writing or the pacing or the characters? or is it something you can't quite put a finger on? let me know and we can try think about it together !!! im also the biggest overthinker when it comes to writing (💀) but what kind of comforts me and brings my feet back to the ground is reminding myself that 1) my fics are for MYSELF (i.e. you should be writing things you would want to read yourself, not what others might want to read - bc once you make it all about other people, that's when you really start to overthink) and 2) if im gna be fr, 90% of people on tumblr, especially enhablr, only really care about ff bc they want to read about their bias (if they wanted to read well-written literature, they would probably read a published book or smth yk). in saying that, it's totally okay for your fics to be imperfect (who cares! it's fanfiction!). I think just reminding yourself that ff is just a silly little thing u do in ur spare time (for which has 0 tie to your self-value) will keep you from overthinking things and raging when things get really hard !! when it comes to confidence, I think that comes gradually in small doses (the more you write, the more confident you become in your personal style / writing likes and dislikes), but maybe some ways to feel more confident is by getting a beta reader that you trust (and will give you effective advice — one that doesn't just shower you with compliments but can give you constructive criticism in a nice way), by reading other people's work (just to see if you're on the right track; if you read other people who have written similar tropes to you, it might make you feel less scared / in the dark bc you can see how they've executed it), or by changing the font on your google doc(?) to try reset your brain and re-read your work with fresh eyes.

I hope hope hope this helped in some way, please don't hesitate to reach out again if anything needs clarification or if I didn't quite answer your question (I'm sorry if I didn't 😭) !! <333 you're welcome anytime around here hehe so best of luck with ur series AND WELCOME TO BLRRRR <3333 it sounds like you're on the right track w ur writing if you're being conscious of all these things so I wouldn't fret at all!!! <33

if it helps, I've written other writing tips here, here and here! 🫶

#ask #@ : wonfied ♡︎ #questions about

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

Hi! I adore your analyses.

If it isn't too much to ask, I would love to hear about your general approach to analyzing works. I wanna learn how to analyze things better from other people, and I really like the way you methodically break things down.

In other words, pls sensei teach me your ways HAHAHA

No trouble if you can't, though! Your blog is always a joy.

Have a wonderful day!

Sensei... 🫢

Ah, thank you, this is really flattering! I don't think I really do anything that special. Honestly, all it is was that I got misinterpreted a lot when I was younger and it made it difficult for me to express myself - so I ended up creating something of a system which I found seems to make things clear to others!

I can do a quick overview of it, for sure! I hope it helps! (It's under the cut :D)

Tip 1: Analyze things you love.

Look, this isn't school and I'm not a literary critic. I don't bother forcing myself to analyze things I'm just not feeling. Sometimes, I'll really enjoy something, but have nothing to say about it in particular. (Ex. Akutagawa. I adore him but for some reason don't feel compelled to analyze him as much... even though he's this blog's pfp...) That's not a commentary on the character/media nor my engagement with it. No need to analyze something you don't particularly care to - these write ups take a fair amount of time and effort, so you'll want to have enough raw energy at the start to sustain yourself. You should want to talk about it, is what I'm saying.

Tip 2: Understand the core themes of the story.

I cannot stress this enough! It's so important. The best stories will have their characters, plot arcs and settings all serve to enhance the major themes of the story in some way - figure out what these themes are, and keep them in the back of your mind. I think of themes like a filter - it should change the way you look at the story, and with any luck, draw a lot of seemingly loose threads together in interesting and surprising ways. There are typically about 2-3 major ones (Ex. BSD - living through uncertainty, good as a choice / Trigun - morality and autonomy, life after loss / Hatoful - love as salvation or corruption / there are other themes of course, these are just examples). From this point on, assume you have your "themes filter" active for completing the other tips.

Tip 3: Pick a small detail and think about "Why" and "How".

See, I used to go too big when doing analyses. I used to try and analyze everything there was to examine in one go, and it would become unwieldy and just have far too much information for me to juggle and process. So, it's better to start small. What's something that caught your attention? What was something you liked? Was there anything that confused you? Pick one thing... then ask yourself why and how. Why did I like this? Why did this character act in that way? How does this aspect of the story work? Etc. This will be your topic!

Tip 4: Read other people's thoughts.

I know we all hate going into tags and seeing some of the worst takes out there... so I don't actually do that. I only look through meta and theory tags, and most of those are done by people who put a lot of time and care into their theory crafting, so they at least usually bring the receipts. It always helps to read other's opinions. This is just a good thing in general - you need to open yourself up to different views. Even if you don't agree, you might be better able to articulate why you don't. There's some god-tier stuff in these theory tags, you just gotta look. :)

Tip 5: Pay attention to context and setting.

For most of the stories I analyze, the characters do not exist in a world or situation that is comparable to mine. Asking yourself "where did this character come from?" "what's the overall state of the world they inhabit?" "were this character's experiences different or similar to the rest of the cast? different or similar to their childhoods?" - this is really going to help you understand motivation, far more than core personality traits will alone. (Ex. remember that BSD is a newly post-war society. Tensions are still high. People are being hired at young ages. A lot of people grew up in the slums, and violence is common. How did the different characters interact with this world? What sides might one character have seen to this world that another didn't?)

Also, it's good to at least be somewhat aware of the author and the context they created their story in. Many of the works I analyze are from Japan. It's good to know where a work is from - typically you're going to see at least some expression of cultural values, and I find this is helpful to keep in mind. Some decisions made in story will make a lot more sense when you remember the story's place of origin.

Looking at author influences is also helpful! BSD has a great built-in source of background info, since the entire premise incorporates classic literature. This can be an excellent supplementary source!

Tip 6: Tell a story with your analysis.

Again, I'm doing this for fun. I'm not a literary academic, so I try to use conversational flow. I tend to write like I'm speaking - in fact, this is very much how I talk in real life. It's up to you the tone you set in your writing - just make it something that flows naturally. You can always go back and re-read it if something seems unclear.

What I mean by story is to break your analysis up into chunks. There's no hard and fast rule on how to do this. You can see a clear example of it in my "Dazai Likes People" post, which was long enough that I bolded the sections. It should have a beginning, middle, and end, roughly - beginning where you say what you want to analyze or lead into it somehow, middle (which I typically break up into individual topics), and the end, which honestly is just a rephrasing of the beginning (or sometimes I just leave it out). Sometimes, to break things up I'll add quotes or images that help me with my points; these serve as visual interest so the reader is not faced with a continuous wall of text. Bolding and italicizing key points can also do the trick.

A good way to see if the analysis flows is to see if you can say "so then..." between each paragraph. (Ex. Point 1 -> "so then..." -> Point 2 -> "so then..." -> Point 3, etc.) Each point should flow into the next - I try to make something of a narrative out of it. (It's why the word "so" pops up a lot in my analyses haha.) I'm sorry, I feel like this is the part that's the hardest to explain in a way that's easy to follow. It's mostly practice, really. It's also subjective how you want your analysis to read.

Tip 7: Fact check!

I hate spreading misinformation. Mostly because it's frustrating to have constructed a theory only to get called out that it's based on something misremembered, but also because, as a science student, I'm really mindful of keeping track of my sources. Always have your sources on hand! I spend at least three re-reads of my analyses consulting books, episodes, and manga to ensure that everything I've added is correct. (I might go a bit overboard with it sometimes... I can be a bit paranoid about this...)

And finally, my Golden Rule: ✨Explanation, not Justification!✨

If you have no other takeaway from this post, please remember this! Every character in the story should have their actions be explainable! This does not mean justifiable! Explanation is not just logic, and should always take into account character values, emotions, and situation. This will help prevent analyzing characters only from the perspective of relatability, and is very useful when analyzing antagonists/villains.

Character analysis is always about drawing a throughline between motivation and action. It's not about whether you would do the same, or whether you agree, or whether it is a choice you would forgive.

Everyone has their reasons for doing what they do. This is true in fiction, and it's also true in real life. I try to always keep this in mind.

I hope this was helpful to you, or to anyone who might want to read it!

#what do i tag this as...? #analysis writing reference #thanks for the ask! #storyrambles #thank you again!!!

[wastelandhell]

Thank you so much @bokatan and @h3raklion for the tag!

I can tell this is going to become a patented Furby wall of text™ so I'll just throw in a cut now. tl;dr: I love you all and i draw danse way too much

This has been an interesting year mostly in that its my first time posting personal art online in, what, 7 years? I stopped doing this kind of drawing shortly after high school. I picked up painting flash and have been focusing on my tattooing since then. In that time I never did any digital drawing or character drawing until 2 years ago this month, when I drew Val for the first time.

I was terrified to post anything anywhere, I think I posted one piece to reddit, but besides that I kept everything pretty private until April of 2022. I originally made this blog as a place to silently post my drawings and screenshots while providing a sort of devlog of my mods for my own records, and didn't think I would be noticed. I didn't realize people tracked the paladin danse tag, lol!

I'm really glad for all the people I've met through here, I never would have kept this blog up if it weren't for the wonderful messages from all of you guys. So much of my art, both in subject and execution has been influenced by the other users I've had the pleasure of interacting with and I hope to keep it up this year!

You all know I mostly just draw Val and Danse, and this is the palette I use for most things:

These are all pretty drab, I use different of blending layers and photoshop adjustments to get the colours how I want them at the end.

I usually try to use different brushes in each of my drawings, but these are the ones I come back to most often. The first one is a variant of one of these brushes, I modified it to change size based on direction and tilt. I used the brush almost exclusively until august and its still my favourite for quickly laying out forms and values. I use this one for freckles. The rest are some of my top picks from True Grit Texture Supply, mostly from Chromagraph and Monomania.

I'm glad I was able to really get into drawing this year, and going through my folder I'm pleased with how my anatomy and faces have improved. However I am disappointed in how much of it is just the same ginger fuck. I'm really stunting my growth by not varying my subjects, and now that I'm more comfortable with the tools I want to push myself to actually. uh. try. Put in the effort to make art that says something, tells a story. Less single characters floating in blank voids. More people interacting, scenes, environments. I also really want to get back into digital painting, I used to be really into digital painting and in theory know how to do it. I'm going to try and dig out that old knowledge lol.

Despite being bit bland, and having some glaring errors that still bug me, that Danse drawing is still one of my favourites. I think I spent at least 8 hours on it. I was dealing with some personal issues at the time and just really wanted to scratch that brain itch that the bos knight uniform gives me. It's stupid, I hate it, I can draw it nearly completely from memory by how often I'm looking at it.

The 'tried something new' panel is difficult because I feel like a lot of my recent work has been pretty stagnant. It's all done with the same technique, same palette, same boring cel shading, same layer order, boring. This is one of the few times I did any proper digital painting, and tried to adapt the looser style that I use when I'm drawing in analogue mediums to my digital work.

I just talked about art here and not mods because that would be a whole other wall of text. But it would boil down to: love to do it, no time, and expensive.

Also, if anybody is interested, I do my drawing in Clip Studio Paint and Photoshop on a Surface Laptop Studio.

#i do not expect anyone to read all that i just like hearing myself talk #er...you know what i mean

[benkyoutobentou]

31 Days of Productivity Reading: Day One

Before: I’ve been looking forward to this day, March first, specifically for this little reading challenge! I’ve been “saving” my books to read, which is at once a habit that I do often when something like this comes up and something I know I should kick the habit of. It’s not like I’ll run out of things to read. Ever. But to start out, let’s do a quick rehash of my goals for the month (don’t worry, this’ll be the only time I do this):

Finish No. 6 volume 3

Read 憎らしい彼

Read another novel (today I’m leaning towards 独り舞. Tomorrow? Who knows)

Read at least ten volumes of manga

Read at least an hour per day

[I'm putting the rest under a read more because it ended up being unusually long. ごめんね！]

For today’s plans, I’m going to walk to the library and get a bit of studying done. I’m in a huge Mandarin study mood and I think the long walk will be good for me, both mentally and physically. I’ll also probably read a bit at the library after I’ve finished studying. I’m starting off the month with No. 6 and if I still have some left over reading energy at the end of the day, I’ll probably read ウツボラ (下). I read the first volume a super long time ago, and as much as I adore the manga of 中村明日美子 this one was way above my level when I tried it last. I usually find her manga to be on the more difficult side, but I also always find that the stories are worth the effort.

I’ve seen some people on YouTube time themselves reading when they do reading challenges, so I’ll probably try that out, even if I doubt that I’ll actually do it for the whole month… It would also be interesting to have a more accurate idea of my reading speed in Japanese, and to be able to see if that changes over the course of the month.

After: In a series of unfortunate events, I didn’t end up reading at all at the library because I probably spent thirty minutes looking for my hold book and still couldn’t find it (they filed my name wrong, the paper slipped to where you couldn’t see the name on it, and the spine of the book is a completely different color than the cover). And since I walked, I didn’t want to walk home in the dark.

Mildly related notes- I can’t go anywhere without my dog begging for a walk, so I had to take her out before I could walk to the library myself. I also found it mildly amusing that the chapter I started at the library was library themed.

One hour update: My reading pace is (so far), pretty much exactly where I thought it was, which is about five minutes per page, give or take. Luckily, I've honed in to my reading weakness. Unfortunately, it's a big category. Vocabulary. Vocabulary is my weak point in studying and I go through phases in which I study a ton of flashcards or none at all. I know that I need to get back on my JPDB game, but. Ough. I'm just glad that I usually don't find any issues with grammar, and my reading speed when I know the words really isn't all that bad (as far as I'm concerned).

Final report: For the day, I've read about two hours and ten minutes give or take (I accidentally reset the timer eight minutes in) and nearly finished the chapter I was on of No. 6, completing about thirty ages in that time. I didn't get to reading any manga today, but that's fine. I would like to finish the chapter before I go to bed since I only have ten pages left, but that's still another hour of reading (hopefully less, since most of it seems to be dialogue) and it's getting late, hence why I'm updating now and not when I actually stop reading for the day. Night owl problems. Finishing the chapter would also put me at nearly halfway through the book. God I love short books! As usual, this series is wonderful and I always have a great time whenever I pick it up.

#benkyou posting #30 days of productivity #langblr #studyblr #language learning #studying #polyglot #booklr #study blog #check my slatch tote #homemade tote bag for an obscure series check