I wanna be roadkill
Find me a mile up ahead
Lying there on the roadside
Say, don’t worry now, it’s already dead
series 1: roadkill/longing
roadkill, searows // cyanotypes, emilio hernandez martin // hard times, ethel cain // child wearing a red scarf, eduoard vuillard // empty stomach, rachel sabini // thirstiness is not equal division, kaveh akbar // salvage, hedgie choi // ‘deer at night’, george shiras III // kinder than man, athea davis // best barbarian, roger reeves // ‘johannes land, suite no.2’, simon bang // my photograph // postcolonial love poem, natalie diaz // the dislocated room, richard siken // the moon rose over the bay. I had a lot of feelings, donika kelly // abstract (psychopomp), hozier // miniatures, cassandra de alba // from collected poems; between aging and old, jack gilbert // the favourite (2018), dir. yorgos lanthimos // unidad (oneness), pablo neruda // least of all, natalie wee
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Tom replicates a pair of heelies, but Janeway and the Doctor agree that they're a uniform violation and a safety hazard. As a joke, B'Elanna asks to add heelies to her own uniform. To her surprise, the request is approved! Soon, almost everyone but Tom has permission for heelies.
B'Elanna's request is predicated on the idea that she'll use the heelies to get from one engineering emergency to another more quickly in a tactical situation, but mostly she wears her standard-issue shoes and uses the heelies to make fun of Tom.
Harry and Seven are the only ones who actually use their heelies to be more productive. Seven pretends not to understand the situation surrounding Tom and his lack of heelies, but taunts him by saying that he couldn't handle "the immense responsibility of wheeled work-shoes."
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Zephrah actively postpones ruidusborn births. It is believed that the actual number of ruidusborn in exandrian history is much larger than has been officially recorded because the stigma of it was so intense that people lied about it. Alyxian, one of the few recorded ruidusborn heroes of the calamity who received direct blessings from three different prime deities (our very own Changebringer, the Archheart, and the Moonweaver) , has been all but forgotten (read: likely erased) by history.
The Archive of knowledge that revealed the truth of Predathos and Ruidus was never some forgotten thing—it was intentionally hidden by the elites in Vasselheim. And we have no idea how long they have been operating with that knowledge. We have no idea what they have been doing with that knowledge, what silent wars have been waging for years or decades or centuries. But we saw what they were willing to do, in Hearthdell. We saw the violence and suppression they were willing to commit. We saw the pettiness of the exandrian pantheon in the Dawnfather’s response to Deanna’s: “Are you worth saving?”. In the Changebringer’s manipulative change of course in her pleas to FCG. In the Wildmother’s rejection of Opal. In the knowledge we have that Imogen spent so much of her miserable time in Gelvaan begging the gods to aid her to no avail—just for Kord to reach out only to demand that she not let them down.
Liliana’s point that Vasselheim and the other faithful elite of the world will hunt ruidusborn down to negate even the potential of this happening again isn’t new, it isn’t something this solstice and the machinations surrounding it caused, and it isn’t some unsubstantiated, fearful claim—it has been happening.
The vanguard—and Liliana—are unequivocally wrong in their means. But can you really fault them in their desire? Can you really fault the conclusions they have drawn from the experiences they have lived? If you spend your entire life being rejected by the people and the pantheon of your world for means you could not possibly control, would you not seek out someone and somewhere that would accept you? And if you found it, if some being that has been connected with you your whole life welcomed you home and wrapped you in an embrace that felt like your mother’s and says that it is starving; well, aren’t you, too?
There is likely a holy war brewing. At the end of it all, is it truly the sole fault of the people and not the organizations and society that expelled them?
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Belated Birthday Present
Summary: After missing Jamie's birthday, you begin to make it up to him.
Pairing: Jamie Tartt x Reader
Word Count: 1,100
Warnings: Smut, m receiving oral, blowjob, slightly blink and you miss it subby Jamie.
A/N: It has been far too long since I've written smut and I did it on 4 hours of sleep.
Definitely not me compensating for missing Jamie Tartt's birthday yesterday. This man just deserves a nice blowjob.
1:47 AM. That's what time your phone said it was when it automatically adjusted the time zone while you waited by the carousel for your luggage. You were supposed to be home yesterday morning, but a technical issue delayed your flight by a day, making you miss your boyfriend's birthday. After grabbing your suitcase, you head out to the pickup area where an Uber was waiting for you. The ride to your home was long and quiet as you fought yourself to stay awake. When the driver finally pulled up to your curb, it surprised you to see the lights on. After thanking the driver, you walked inside to find Jamie lounging on the couch in his sweats. "Hey babe, welcome home," Jamie says with a tired smile. "Jamie, what're you still doing up?" You question, locking the front door behind you and taking a seat beside him. "I wanted to make sure you got in alright." He yawns, planting a quick, gentle kiss to your lips.
Jamie held you against his side for a few minutes, giving you both time to enjoy each other's proximity again after five days apart. "I'm so sorry I missed your birthday, Jamie." You apologize with a slight frown. "It's not your fault. I know you would've been here if you could." He hums. "Your boss is a fucking twat, though, for making you travel so much." He jokingly adds. "Trust me, everyone knows Billy's a dick." You agree with a chuckle. "Have you heard back from any of the places you applied to?" He asks. "A couple." You tell him. "That last place I interviewed with ended up wanting me to relocate to fucking Birmingham." "I thought they had an office here," Jamie says. "They do but they lied about which location they were hiring for." You explain with an eye roll. "What dicks." Jamie scoffs. "I certainly know how to pick 'em." You joke. "That's alright, babe. Even if you pick shit bosses, you still picked me and I think I'm pretty great." He boasts jokingly. "You are pretty great." You say genuinely. "You're fucking amazing, Jamie." "I'm just trying to be the best me I can be," Jamie says with a soft, almost bashful smile. You just smile and snuggle into his side, taking in the smell of his body wash and letting it relax you.
"So, what happened to my super secret, super special birthday surprise you were so excited about?" He teases with a grin. "I was gonna take us out of town for the weekend to this romantic little Airbnb I found." You answer. "It was this very cute little place with a hot tub and it's right next to a little pond, too. I thought it'd be a nice, brief escape from the chaos." "God, that does sound nice," Jamie admits. "Roy's been on my fucking ass for weeks." "You did ask the man to train you." You remind him. "Yeah, I know, and now I'm paying the price." He jokingly grumps. "Poor baby." You mockingly coo. "I know!" He pouts. "Let me make you feel better." You hum, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, then another to his jawline. Jamie lets out a couple of softer hums as you kiss down the column of his neck. "I also got you a few things I know you've had your eyes on." You hum vaguely as you trail kisses down his chest.
When your lips reached the waistband of his pants, you looked up at him with a smile. "Do you want your birthday gifts first or my very sincere apology for missing your birthday?" You ask him. "Apology." He says immediately. Instead of making a joke about how quickly he answered, you pull his sweatpants down until his member was free of the cloth constraints. He audibly gulped when he saw you lick your palm before wrapping your hand around his base. "I'm so sorry I couldn't make it back home to celebrate your birthday with you, Jamie." "I might be able t-to forgive you," Jamie says with a slightly shuddered breath as you kiss the crown of his member, licking up the bead of pre-cum already forming. "Fuck, I missed you," Jamie moans as you slowly take his tip into your mouth. "I missed you too, love." You hum after pulling off of his length, using your spit as lubricant to stroke him.
This time when you leaned forward and took his length back into your mouth, you took as much of him as you could. "Jesus Christ." Jamie hisses when he hits the back of your throat. His moans get louder the more you find your rhythm, resting a hand on his thigh as you lavish his length with attention, teasing the vein that ran along the underside with your tongue. His moans fill the living room of your home, echoing off the walls of the space as his head falls back in abject bliss. When he starts getting close, he tangles the fingers of one hand in your hair while his other hand grabs the arm of the couch in a vice-like grip to keep himself up when he feels his knees almost buckle. As his breathing becomes more ragged, you double your efforts to push him over the edge, bobbing your head just a tad faster and reaching up to massage his balls. The moan that follows comes from deep in his chest as he spills his release down your throat.
When his orgasm subsides and you've swallowed every last drop, you carefully pull off of him, looking up at him through your lashes as you lick him clean. "Apology fucking accepted." He jokes with a breathless chuckle, offering his hand to help you back up after tucking himself back into his sweatpants. "I love you, babe," Jamie says sweetly, pulling you into a quick, gentle kiss before the two of you head to your bedroom. "I love you too, Jamie." You hum happily. While he pulls the covers back, you change into your pajamas, grabbing a couple of gift bags from the back of the closet. "Here are your birthday gifts by the way." You tell him with a sheepish smile. "What's in the pink and white one?" He asks, doing a poor job of masking his lust as simple curiosity. "Something I picked out for this weekend with you in mind." You answer vaguely, a teasing smile on your face as you crawl into bed with him. You set the gift bags in his lap and smile, pecking his cheek. "Happy belated birthday, my love." You hum as you watch him impatiently tear into the pink bag first, completely ignoring the other one.
Dedicated to the people who have yet to give up on me: @bdffkierenwalker @anarchistbeauty
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