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First Post here, let's get this started off right!

Sally sells #my writing by the sea shore.

Soudam Week: Day 5 - Fantasy (NSFW)

Somebody teach me how to write smut please and thank my dudes

“I ain’t no Angel…”

Souda’s backside hit the wall.

  The resounding smack was more than a little satisfying to Gundam. And, had his tongue not been stuck down the Ultimate Mechanic’s throat, he would laughed at the desperate, needy hands that tried to force his clothes off. Successful only in slipping the Ultimate Breeder’s scarf from his neck.

Hmph.

“Don’t got no halo…”

How cute.

  But it wasn’t enough for him. Gundham wanted Souda’s everything. He wanted to be Souda’s everything. He wanted every bit of, blood, bone, and grit the mechanic had. And Gundham pinned Sousa’s wrists to the wall with every ounce of that enthusiasm.

Grinding against him harshly.

  Rolling the two growing hard-ons together, treacherously slow. The Ultimate Mechanic left his mouth then. A string of saliva still connecting their lips together as Souda moaned. Deep down from some primal, hungry place the Sharp-toothed one had within him.

Gundham latching onto his neck.

  And, though he didn’t have Souda’s hellish teeth, the Overlord of Ice got by just fine. Nipping and sucking, hard. Almost mercilessly

“I cut off my wings!”

  Leaving Souda a complete mess. The poor mortal torn between desperate rutting against him and broken iterations of his cursed name. Hands, having found the end of Gundham’s shirt, running needily along his poisoned flesh. Souda’s touch warm and roughed from years taming automations. Finally, Gundham couldn’t take it anymore.

Throwing Souda on to the hotel mattress.

“Made my momma scream!”

  How did they even end up in this position? Gundham forgot and nor did he care. All he cared about now was having every inch of Souda’s bare skin pressed against his. All but ripping that infernal jumpsuit off his lean frame and slipping Gundham’s own cursed cloak off his shoulders. Leaving the a pair in only wrinkled shirts and rumbled pants.

“I’m your darkest dream…”

Crashing on top of Souda like a tidal wave.

  The mechanic made a low noise in his throat as Gundham slotted their mouths together. Tongues hot and curious in each other’s mouths. The Overlord of Ice using the momentary distraction to trail his hands underneath Souda’s shirt.

“G-Gundham!”

“They call me Devil…”

  Oh how sweet his title sounded when Souda said it! How shamelessly and feverishly he arched his back. Gundham chuckling darkly as he rubbed Souda’s nipples once more. Growing hard and red underneath his hands.

“Fucking-gh!”

  But his little tryst wasn’t done with him. Those strong, leans arms shot out to entrap Gundham even more. Wrapping around the breeder and pressing him as close as his mortal body would allow. Sharp, serrated teeth finding intoxicating purchase on Gundham’s neck. Hard enough to draw blood

“My heart is empty.”

Gundham groaned.

  His body felt hot. He wanted more. More and more of Souda until he wasn’t sure were where he started and where Souda ended. Gundham pulled away from Souda’s teeth then. Watching him blink up hazily at him.

Utterly debauched.

“They call me Devil…”

  Those striking eyes dark and muddled with a lusty sheen. Brows knitted together as if the very thought of Gundham putting space between them was world-ending. Mouth open and pooling in a bloody, drooling mess. Oh Dear Dark God’s.

“Just try and tempt me…”

Souda would be the death of him.

  Gundam didn’t even hesitate. Driving down to lap at those blood stained lips once more as his hand worked his way down the mechanic’s body. Pressing the full force of his palm under Souda’s pants and into his boxers.

“Yes!” Souda all but grasped as he desperately rubbed against Gundham’s hand. The breeder giving the mechanic a few, hurried strokes as he struggled in getting the offending clothes out of the way. Precim making his grip slip ever so slightly.

“I’ll steal your soul, I’ll eat you whole!”

  Gundham’s hair was a complete mess. Gel having long since deteriorated, leaving the long black and gray bangs to brush against Souda’s forehead with every breath-stealing kiss. And perfect for Souda to pull and tug at.

His pants and boxers finally falling away.

“Ain’t no other way…”

  Souda’s shirt was pulled up high above his nipples. Somehow more obscene that if it had been completely off. Lean legs already spread on either side of Gundham. His member, wet and twitching in his hand.

“Gundam…”

“They call me Devil…”

“Gundham please!”

“And you should be afraid.”

===

Gundham woke with a gasp.

  Jolting up in his bed with all the force of lightning striking the Earth. Hair an unkept mess and sweat slicking his skin to a sharp shine. Wha? What was that?

A dream?

  Only a...dream? So Souda wasn’t-Gundham looked around his room frantically. His bed, heartbreakingly empty. The space next to him was cold, devoid of any of Souda’s warm edges that Gundham longed to know. The bathroom empty and frozen in the morning light.The couches and tables void of anything that would give him the hope that maybe, just maybe, the previous night hadn’t been a dream.

A swift, fleeting fantasy.

  But no. The will of causality was cruel one. Giving the Overlord of Ice the taste of what could be, of what he truly longed for, only to remind him that what he wished for could never be. Souda would never share a bed with him. Not like that. If the he even knew about Gundham’s feelings, Souda would surely, irreversibly hate him.

And Gundham couldn’t bear that.

  He knew what such...feelings for someone like Souda would look like to the mechanic. Disgusting. Pathetic. But Gods, that dream had felt so good. So right. Gundham’s legs ached, a repercussion from last night’s indulgent thirsting aching between them.

Aching almost as much as his heart.

Lotidge Ship Week: Day 4 - Enchanting

===

“Uh? Voltron to Lotor? Voltron to-“

“I heard you the first time Lance.” Lotor grumbled as he took another swing of Nunvil. Stupid Voltron. Stupid Alteans. Stupid alliances with their stupid formal-

“Ok, ok. Just checking Mr. Grumpy Galra. Jeez, you’ve been glaring into space for half a Varga now man.” Well…the Red (or was it Blue now? Blast it, its all too confusing at the moment) Paladin wasn’t entirely wrong. Lotor was, indeed, very grumpy.

But he hadn’t been glaring at nothing.

“Says the one sulking with over Keith.”

“Hey! I’m not sulking!”

“Sure, and I’m not trying to get drunk Lance.”

More specifically, he had been glaring at the little woman that had taken up far too much of his thoughts as of late.  A point further proven by the three empty Nunvil glasses next to him. Ah. 

The Green Paladin.

The two had developed a sort of…relationship as of late. Touches lingered. Lips occasionally touched. Eyes would soften.

But what were they?

What did she think of him? Just what was keeping them dancing around each other like this? Lotor didn’t know and he hated being left in the dark like this.  

Hated being so enamored with her.

His eyes never left her, as she stood there in the distance. Clothed in a pale purple dress that made his blood boil with every sort of blushing red feeling Lotor swore he’d never let himself feel. A sleeveless lilac two-piece with strips of black velvet holing the short shirt and long billowy skirt together. Slivers of warm, freckled skin shining through the gaps. Etherial and enchanting.

Talking with other men.

The sight had his fangs grinding against each other. Seeing her smile up at diplomats. Seeing their eyes linger on her skin. Lotor had half a mind to chew the Altean Princess out for introducing Pidge to these foreign diplomats. Ugh, he didn’t like this.

Not in the least.

He didn’t like the uncertainty. The secret tenderness between them. He wanted the ability to loop his arms around that slim waist without the fear of losing what little standing he had with her. The right to stand by her side without any chance that she might lash out at him.

Pathetic, he knows.

But what was a man to do? The Green Paladin had his heart wrapped around her little fingers. Maybe it started when those gold eyes first cut into him. Or when he saw those blasted tears streaking down her face. But either way, Lotor knew that whatever he felt for this small woman has long gone beyond a simple fascination.    

He downed his drink.

“Lotor? Where are you going?” Lance was deftly ignored in favor of Lotor making his way towards the small woman who left him so helpless.

The room only spinning slightly.

Then, in the corner of his eyes, Lotor saw the Black Paladin make way towards Pidge as well. Every nerve in Lotor’s body screaming in protest at the sight.

Damned clone.

It wasn’t that hard to figure out. But Lotor couldn’t bear to tell the rest of Voltron for fear of being booted out. Their trust in that copy of their leader greater than their trust in him. Though complications really started arising when Lotor found that the clone’s eyes never strayed far too long on a certain Paladin.

Which Lotor couldn’t exactly fault the thing for.

Pidge was, at least by Galran standards, an ideal, tempting mate. Young and clever. Her size never impeding her battle prowess. Small and lithe like a knife.

Never failing to excite him.

Beautiful and deadly in such a breathtaking way Lotor want to snatch her up in his arms and snarl at every male that came too close. That being said, as soon as Pidge was within an arm’s reach, Lotor pounced.

Wrapping an arm around her waist.

“Join me for a stroll, won’t you?” He didn’t look at her as he asked, choosing, instead, to glare triumphantly at that clone’s dumbfounded expression. The copy’s expression immediately souring. 

Before whisking her away completely.

It Is Saturday

So I did it.

I succumbed to that shidge writing itch that you guys threw poison ivy on because this is something we all want and need apparently

Original post

The hardest thing that Takashi Shirogane had to do was get out of bed.

Not to say that he was sinking into depression and couldn’t arise, no, it was the exact opposite. His bed, their bed, was one of the safest and most comforting places he’d ever known, thanks most in part to his tiny female partner, and it was a daily struggle to convince himself to depart from it. He and Pidge had owned their cozy apartment nearing a year now, and the slab of mattress and tangled sheets that they rested on had become the most intoxicating setting in his home. There were days were they opted to stay in place for hours, only leaving to make food or bathroom runs and returning to collapse in the other’s arms and the sea of blankets. It was hard to leave because she was there, because they had comforted each other from the memories of the war there, because every good day, shit day, and night of love always ended in each other’s arms, on the bed.

But some days were harder than the rest.

The setting was always the same, posing the exact challenge it had for a while now; dark grey sheets that lay crinkled up between them, olive comforter sprawled around the two in uneven heaps of worn fabric. Her sleeping form was bundled up next to him, clinging at the arms that encircled her torso, head turned to the one that used it as a pillow. The rest of the bed seemed freezing in comparison to her, though with the pair’s legs tangled together and huddled figures smashed together, her presence chased off any remaining cold of the perimeter around him. Blinding sunlight poured from the gaps in the blinds, sloshing golden light inside the room in bouncing parallel strips.

Blinking into the realm of reality, Shiro instinctively tightened his grip on the woman in his arms, burying his nose in her curled, unruly hair with slow, fatigued movements. The sleeping Pidge made not a move besides the rising and falling of her sides, comfortably conforming to the ‘big spoon’ behind her. His senses were then filled with bright brown hair, blinding sunlight, and the scent of vanilla and burnt carbon as he was once again tempted by the thought of staying where he was for the remainder of the day.

Sighing, he blew her caramel curls away from his mouth, fingers knotting at his t-shirt that draped over her lithe frame. ‘Is showing up at a Garrison meeting really worth getting up from this? What day even is it?’

After a minute or two of contemplation, Shiro groaned and shifted away from the woman he loved, lifting the covers and throwing his legs over the bedframe, running a hand through his white-stained forelock. His muscles stung, the ache the familiar, momentary one that only existed because he had moved. Though the apartment’s heater tried its best, he shivered-everything was like ice compared to her. With a final shake, he made a move to heave himself up-

-until dull nails tickled one of the scars on his back.

As soon as his head spun, he met the soft, squinted gaze of Pidge’s honey eyes. Her arm extended out to him, hand blindly groping at any clutchable surface that he retained, eventually finding his prosthetic and then latching onto the metallic limb. She peeled her lips apart, blinking tiredly; her dreams must’ve been somewhat peaceful, then, as she wasn’t automatically running at full speed.

“..ome back to bed,” She offered, eyebrows kneading together and gentle smile painting itself on her soft, freckled features. She squeezed the bridge between his neck and shoulder, her other hand finding the parallel spot within a matter of seconds. The plea scratched at his resolve, itching and tugging at his head because damn just staying home today sounded really good.

He exhaled a quiet, desperate laugh and leaned over, pecking her nose. “I have to go.”

“..iot.”

“Hmm?”

Her freckled arms flung out and grabbed his shoulders, yanking him down over her lanky form and forcing him to catch himself out of instinct, the pair close enough to where their noses brushed together. Tangled hair guarded the tops of her half-lidded eyes, bottom lip jutting out and completing her pouty appearance. Pidge maneuvered her hands to press against the sides of his face, shaking it gently with every word.

“It. Is. Saturday.”

“Oh.”

Shiro’s elbows gave way, the fatigued super-soldier of a man succumbing to her earlier plea and falling onto the lanky, warm form of his partner, forcing his arms around her through the mass of sheets and digging his nose against her neck. She laughed softly, the sound tickling his chest as the past Green Paladin roamed Shiro's shoulders, the two now glued together by method of awkward cuddling. The cold was now longer felt, and the soft heartbeat in the chest under his own was loud enough to become a lullaby and lure him back to the realm of sleep, clinging onto the woman beneath him all the while.

Soudam Week: Day 4 - Soulmates

The Angst is here and its staying.

Souda hated his soulmate.

  A contradiction that doesn’t make sense, he knows. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t true. For one, he had no idea who his soul mate was. But the worst part was that they were always getting hurt. How did he know?

Well he could feel it to.

  Every cut, every slash, every punch and kick his soulmate endured, so did he. Granted, Souda only received a mirrored version of the severity of the pain, while his soulmate had td to deal with both the pain and the scarring. Still, it hurt.

Still, it would always happen

  Souda had too many memories of suddenly collapsing in pain in elementary school or all together passing out between his soulmate’s pain and his own father’s beatings. So, yeah. Souda came to hate his soulmate. Hated whoever that careless idiot was.

Hated them as much as he worried for them.

===

Years came and went.

  Souda had become used to his soulmate’s frequent injuries. Changing his appearance in such a way that, even if he was writing in agony on the floor over whatever stupid stunt his soulmate pulled, no one who rush at him with pity in their eyes. He hated that pity. He hated that look they gave him.

He hated his soulmate.

  Souda did his best not the suffer his own injuries after leaving his dad’s and getting accepted into Hope’s Peak. But even he messed up sometimes, and whenever he got hurt, Souda couldn’t help but wonder.

Did his soulmate even care?

  Clearly they didn’t if they themselves just continued to get hurt over and over again. Knowing full well that they had someone behind them feeling their every agony. There was no doubt in Souda’s mind anymore.

Their soulmate was the worst kind of person.

  Still, Souda found himself worrying all the same. With every invisible gash on his arm, he wondered if they were ok. With every bite-like ache in his leg, he fretted about their soulmate’s chances of infection. With every breath knocked from his lungs, he wondered if they had anyone to pull them back on their feet. It was a waste, Souda thought.

Worrying for someone who didn’t even love him.

===

A killing game in a group full of soulmates.

  What could possibly go wrong right? Even the idea of it was too cruel, too brutal. Killing one person and them putting their soulmate through the worst kind of agony imaginable? Too cruel.

Too brutal.

  Almost as painful as realizing the girl Souda had wished and prayed for to be his soulmate, had never so much as experienced anything worse than a scraped knee. And Souda’s dad had given him way more than that. But hey.

At least he wasn’t Hinata.

  Poor bastard got stuck with the absolute mess that was Nagito Komaeda. Malnourished and suffering from like a billion diseases, Souda was in complete awe of how his soul brother was even able to stand the Ultimate Lucky Student. But them again, at least he found his soulmate. Even if it was in a place like this damn island. And in a twisted, painful way, Hinata was happy and whole with that crazy cloud head.

And Souda wasn’t.

  After both Hinata’s and Sonia’s revelations, he felt alone in this crowd of people that should’ve been familiar to him. He felt half formed and dirty and pathetic. Hmph. The guy his own soulmate didn’t care about. God, he really hated his soulmate.

Almost as much as he hated Gundham.

===

Peko and Fuyuhiko.

Fuyuhiko and Peko.

  Souda should’ve seen that coming. But he didn’t. And, as he watched Peko sacrifice every inch of her body and life for Fuyuhiko, Souda knew that he would never, ever know what that kind of love would feel like. That selfless, reckless, wonderful kind of love that kept Fuyuhiko alive even as he was screaming and bleeding Peko’s name. Yeah.

How could Souda ever know something like that?

  His soulmate didn’t care. His soulmate just kept hurting themselves and him. The only difference now was that Souda didn’t bother to worry or care. They were too far gone. Too rotten and rusted. They’d never care for one another like Peko and Fuyuhiko. Not now.

It was too late.

===

Akane was tough as nails.

  But the sound of her screams as she clutched her body while Nekomaru fought for his life in some toy ambulance was something else. Something chilling and horrible. She…

She hadn’t known.

  She didn’t know Nekomaru was...but still she...Her screaming never stopped that night. But Souda couldn’t find it within himself to feel sorry for her. Not anymore. Not when he would, one day, be in Nekomaru’s place. She was just like his soulmate.

Cruel to the end.

===

Love was awful.

  Souda should’ve reached that conclusion sooner. But he had held onto the hope that he would one day be proved wrong. That his soulmate would just descend from the heavens and soothe every ache and trampled feeling Souda had ever suffered from. But the Ultimate Mechanic realised that was far from reality.

Love had turned Mikan into a monster.

  A murderous, feverish, panting monster that terrified Souda to no end. He decided that he hated love, then and there. And, as Mikan blasted off into space with that lovesick look on her face, Souda decided that he never, ever wanted to meet his soulmate. Not now. Not ever.

If only Gundham would give him some space.

===

Starving in a house named after a fruit was some painful irony.

  Still, Souda knew that it was better to sleep and conserve his energy than worry about the hollow feeling in his gut. So he slept.

And dreamt.

  Dreamt of somewhere warm and sunny. Dreamt of a small-town garage to work in. A good stream of welcome business and ambitious side projects. A cool glass of iced tea waiting for him with a kiss on his cheek, despite the oil. A hand in his, just as battered and bruised as his, but fingers still slotting together seamlessly regardless. A loud laugh in the air during a night out in town. Arms around his waist and a warm body pressed against his as they slow danced to something peaceful, something wonderful. Souda dreamt a warm and perfect dream.

Souda dreamt a life with his soulmate.

But then the pain started.

  From bitter, bitter experience, Souda knew it was from a beating. And his soulmate was fighting back. It woke Souda from that perfect dream with all the fury of a star crashing down unto Earth. He had to bite his tongue to avoid screaming. Falling from his bed, only able to gasp and groan in agony. What?

What was happening?

===

Gundham Tanaka had fucked up.

  He had fucked up big time. The room stank of oil and hot metal. Him and his beloved Devas were exhausted. Killing the Mechanical One had been wrong.

But it was all he could do.

  It was all the two of them could to from saving the rest of them from certain death. And, in its own way, it was simply nature at its finest. You either kill or starve.

And Gundham had killed.

  He had murdered and wondered, dimly, if the Always Hungry One was up and screaming in pain yet. His ice heart truly bleed for that mortal. Losing her soulmate not once, but twice. It was cruel.

But not as cruel as Souda’s predestined fate.

  Gundham knew. Of course he did, nothing hid from his all-seeing eyes. Especially not his soulmate. He had known the second he first saw those pink tetresses flutter in the salty air. The second those sharp eyes and thick lashes gazed in his direction. The second he first saw that sharp-toothed smile and heard that loud laughter. Gundham knew then.

But still he kept his silence.

  How could he not? The Ultimate Breeder could carve a million apologies into his skin and it still wouldn’t be enough. All his years with his wonderful beasts had taken a toll on his body, he knew. Gundham was covered in the scars to prove it, but he had always, always been acutely aware that there had been another being behind him. Suffering from the same ailments.

And still he did nothing.

  How could he? Animals had no soulmates to fret over, they couldn’t hold back their claws and teeth. They couldn’t go against their instincts. So Gundham could only hold onto the vain hope that, once he and his beloved met, he would be able to apologize for all he had made them suffer through. But that was nothing but wishful thinking now. No.

Gundham didn’t even have that left.

  The Devas’ eyes were dark, wet with worry as he picked them up. But Gundham could find no words to comfort them. He knew that the others would find him out. But the Great Gundham Tanaka had done this for them, they would know. But not Souda. Souda would never know that it was him, and all the pain that Gundham had caused him, that pushed him to this gastly act.

Perhaps as his way to atone.

  But he had just damned Souda to a different fate now. Gundham would die soon. And, in doing so, he’d give the ultimate pain to his only soulmate. His last gift to his beloved would be the same as the first.

Pain.

Agony.

Despair.

  Legs aching, Gundham made his way back to the Strawberry house. Sabotaging what he could on his way out. Purely for decoration at this point. His thoughts muddled as his eyes filled with tears. Which should’ve been impossible. He was the Overlord of Ice, such mortal tears were beneath him.

But they were there nonetheless.

  Just once, Gundham thought, I want to see him. I want to look at him one last time. The Devas pressed themselves closer to his skin. Either seeking or giving comfort, he didn’t know. But he appreciated it nonetheless. And on the Ultimate Breeder went, walking in a trance to the one person he owed his life and more to.

Pausing just outside Souda’s door.

  Suppose Souda was awake? What then? He’d be caught immediately. But, after all the bloodshed the Overlord of Ice had witnessed, he didn’t care. Not anymore. Part of him hoped for a passionate meeting. One where Gundham knew exactly what to say and he and Souda could know the joy of being in each other’s arms.

If only for the first and last time.

  But now, Souda was still asleep when he entered his realm. He seemed to have passed out in exhaustion. Starvation and Gundham’s own injuries proving too much for him to bear. Souda lay, sprawled out on the floor of his room, brows drawn in Gundham’s residual pain. The Ultimate Breeder’s heart heavy with guilt as he picked up his resting beloved.

For the first and last time.

  Had Gundham not been fending back tears, he would’ve laughed. How seamlessly the two fit together! How softly, how gently Souda’s breathed against his skin! Gundham’s poisonous touch giving immunity him and only him. He wanted to drape the softest blankets and the finest pillows around Souda then. Give him something, anything to remember him by. But Gundham had nothing to give his beloved.

Nothing but pain.

  All he could do was watch Souda sleep. Watch, as his own aches receded, as Souda slowly relaxed. Pain ebbing away. Breathing evening out. Gundham brushed bandaged, battered fingers through Souda’s hair. Running them along the velvet, dyed strands in ways he had only dreamed of doing. Trailing them over the feather-soft eyelashes that rested against strong cheekbones. Brushing the tips of his fingers over chapped lips. Souda’s relaxed breathing ghosting over his hands. Warm.

Alive.

  Gundham left after that. He didn’t deserve anymore. He couldn’t keep the tears back anymore. Barely making it to his own realm before breaking down. Just like the Mechanical One, sobbing. Tears running down his face like the foulest of hellfire. The Devas crying out in worry. But Gundham couldn’t do anything. He hurt too much.

Hurt too much like Souda.

===

Good riddance!

  Souda wasn’t even sorry when he voted for Gundham. Nekomaru was a cool guy and an even cooler robot. Not only that, Gundham knew he was Akane’s soulmate! And he still, willingly, killed him! Akane couldn’t even stutter out her words properly, she was still so messed up. Granted Akane had been reckless with her soulmate in the past, that still didn’t mean he had to rob her of her other half!

That was just cruel.

  So Souda shouldn’t have to feel bad right? So why? Why did his voice dry up in his throat the second Gundham was announced the true killer. Why did his body go cold? Why did his heart stop and his hands start trembling?

Why wouldn’t Gundham look at him?

===

He wished for a swift death.

  That was all Gundham wanted as he saw those beasts race toward him in the distance. A swift, quick death that wouldn’t hurt Souda too much. That’s it.

That’s all.

===

Why was his heart beating so fast?

  Souda stumbled, clutching his chest. Breathing erratic and his heart pumping frantically. He felt terrified. But of what? He wasn’t being executed. Gundham was. Gundham, with the weird way of talking. Gundham, with the animals all around him. Gundham, with the scarf pulled up to hide his blushing face. Gundham. Gundham Gund-

Souda fell down.

  He couldn’t breathe. Oh God, why couldn’t he breathe? Dimly, he heard Hinata call out to him. But he couldn’t hear, couldn’t focus. There was roaring in his ears and a screaming in his blood. Oh God. Oh God, he was going to die. He was going to-

Gundham.

  It happened then. It happened just as Souda finally looked up, his heart stopping underneath his clenched hands. It happened, it finally happened. Gundham Tanaka was executed, crushed to a bloody pulp by the very beasts he swore to protect.

And Kazuichi Souda screamed and wailed and cried in agony.

His soulmate dead before his eyes.

Web weaving about being in unrequited love with a best friend

"(almost) Just Enough, You and I"

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forgive me, friend i've grown greedy for your goodness

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rogelio de egusquiza's tristan and isolde / clementine von radics / l . m dorsey / alejandra pizarnik / herbert james draper's flying fish / taylor swift, "you’re on your own, kid" / the crane wives, "never love an anchor" / mwangi hutter's ours to hold and caress and cherish / mitski, "i will" / fka twigs, "cellophane" / mitski, "i bet on losing dogs" / albert joseph pénot's la petite cigale / taylor jenkins reid / madeline miller, "the song of achilles" / mary stevenson cassatt's on the balcony / mirabai

to be worthy of your doorway - Hell's Paradise / Jigokuraku Web Weave (spoilers)

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at the entry of your house, your heart - could i come in?

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Hell's Paradise / Jigokuraku was a written and illustrated by Kaku Yuji

hell's paradise / hell's paradise / ocean vuong / ??? / lucille clifton / hell's paradise / jean rhys / hell's paradise / leila chatti / georges bataille / hell's paradise / tarfia faizullah / mary oliver / maya angelou / hell's paradise / hell's paradise /gwen benaway / amal el-mohtar / forugh farrokhzad / hell's paradise / isabel allende / ??? / salma deera / hell's paradise / hell's paradise / hozier, "eden"

Headcanon: Pidge does where a binder if only to better pass off better as a boy. T-shirts and uniforms weren’t always loose enough that that she could afford to wear a normal sports bra. Incidentally her binder is all she has in space. It takes months for Pidge to work up the courage to ask Allura if they can find the Altean equivalent of a regular bra. The relief when Allura tells her they have some in storage and they’re even adjustable brings a true sigh of relief to poor Pidge.

The shock however when she realizes that the terrible aches in her chest weren’t just from prolonged binding but from her boobs actually deciding to grow. She’d grown a full cup size in the last year and a half. Her unbound chest actually starts to fill out her sweater. The first time she shows up to training like that, Shiro walks into a wall.

It doesn’t help that she now has to readjust her armor to fit over her chest.

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POs open in just one week ♡