#(I've never played doom. I barely know anything about it. how did I end up here)

[glitterinlowgravity]

yeah let's just watch a short 2 hour video essay on a doom mod before bed. there's no way that could lead down a rabbit hole.

[remimibanana]

A bit about Shattered!

I wrote a story about Robin and Sunday!

It's about what may have happened during their past, their present and what the reality during and after the never ending dream held for them.

You can find it here!

I wanted to write a bit about my thought process behind writing this, since I have a lot to say and it might interest some people! I also didn’t want to make my notes section way too long and make it hard to leave a comment or kudos.

All under the cut!

Conception

I started writing this story after 2.2 released, but I didn’t finish it until now. It took me so long but it’s finally here! 30k wasn't the amount I expecting but I am all for it.

It originally was meant to be a love letter to 2.2, but it soon became a love letter to Penacony as a whole since there’s spoilers for everything. I had to rewatch the quests often to make sure I didn’t mess up the lore.

I remember I spent a whole day on the 2.2 quest, a Thursday where I sat down on my phone reading through the dialogue and playing the game while wondering when it was going to actually end at one point.

It was way longer than I expected, but I cried by the end of it all while pacing around the kitchen like a crazy person. Seeing Robin jump for Sunday as he fell, I couldn’t help but tear up. It made me love Robin and Sunday way more than I did before!

It was an incredible quest. It was worth all the hours I poured into it, thanking everything that no one was home when I let out noises and screams like a maniac in the kitchen out of all places. I'm a very expressive person.

I also jumped like a maniac when Acheron said Mei, or Yayi since I play with the CN dub! I love Honkai Impact 3rd a lot, if you didn’t know. I mean, everyone knew beforehand but it felt super validating for it to be explicitly said.

I knew immediately that I had to write something for this wonderful story. I’m always inspired to write after a quest, especially one like this. Shaoji cooked with Penacony and he needs to come back and write more for Star Rail.

I had to write Robin and Sunday, because there was so much I could write regarding these two doomed siblings. I did alternating point of views with both of them, as I wanted to tell both their stories.

I also knew that I wanted angst to the max, especially after hearing what the heck Robin went through and the fact that the game barely touched on anything in her point of view. This is the same case with Sunday.

I’m sorry for the pain I have inflicted on you all! I will write a happy story at some point, I promise you. Then again, I've said this before and I still manage to write angst…

There wasn’t much planning for this, aside from a few things from the quest that I wanted to write into it and use…and yet it looks like I’ve meticulously planned it all out doesn’t it?

I amaze myself sometimes. I quite literally surprised myself actually at times, I made stuff connect and I didn’t mean to really. Is this what they call being a genius?

Let’s take it from the top!

The Past

The first thing I knew I wanted to write was how Robin was shot in the neck.

That sounds terrible, damn. I don’t know how else to word it, I’m sorry!

It was mentioned by Sunday so briefly, and then never brought up again by anyone which is insane to me like what do you mean that Robin was shot in the neck in a war she went into?!

We got to see how he was informed by the Dreammaster about it after showing Robin’s letter and how he was going to pack his bags immediately for Kasbelina-VIII but that was honestly it. This gave me the perfect base to write my rendition of how it all happened.

I structured this part by writing out two letters, the one that Robin sent to Sunday and one that Sunday would have written back if he received it first. I then wrote the actual happenings underneath each paragraph that contradict the letters.

My goal was to make this as interesting as I could since it’s the first thing you read in my story. I needed to hook you all in, and keep you wanting to read on until the end.

There is a lot of story building here, describing the conditions of Kasbelina-VIII and some of the messed up stuff that is happening there. It’s rather realistic, because I wanted it to be. If I was going to talk about a war, I would do so properly without downplaying anything.

I first found it strange that Sunday didn’t know about the war at all. I figured, wouldn’t a war be at least broadcasted by the largest government body, the IPC themselves?

That’s when the idea that the IPC was intentionally covering it all up came to me. It seemed like the most logical explanation, and a very interesting one that I could build upon.

Despite Robin’s letter being in her point of view, we see another being shown. The soldiers who she was staying with this whole time, their thoughts regarding the war and Robin herself.

I had to make a reason as to why she would be shot, because she had to be right in the middle of the battlefield for that to happen. If the IPC was covering everything up, they would also stop supporting the poor planet.

These poor soldiers she’s staying with had no new supplies delivered to for weeks, and yet they still gave what they had left to her, showing that there is still kindness in such a horrific situation.

Based of what I could see, Robin wouldn’t let them suffer like this when she learnt about the supply issue by what I assume was on accident generally. I wanted to give the soldiers some character, so I made them lie to her for her sake about how long they didn’t have supplies for.

We have a lot of lying mentioned in this story, since it’s the main premise for both Sunday and Robin. They both lied to each other for the other’s sake, thinking that it was the right thing to do. Lies after lies pile up, and we see what happened when they all came falling down.

I've never been shot before (god forbid) but I tried to imagine how it might have felt for Robin, the way it would make her feel. It did hurt to write this part, the way she still tried to deliver those supplies...the way she belittled herself for lying...

I wanted to make you all suffer, pretty much. That also sounds terrible.

Now, we go into Xipe and THEIR role. The Dreammaster mentioned how Harmony had blessed her by missing her vital arteries, so I made THEM interfere despite the fact THEY usually only observe and watch everything unfold.

THEY said that the bullet was not meant to hit her, but it still did for some reason that eluded them. This was such a major foreshadowing point that doesn't make much sense until later on, I am such a genius for this!

The same case when it is mentioned that someone could try to calculate their reasonings by forsaking their humanity, I was intentionally foreshadowing what Sunday does later on when he tried to.

You seriously would think I planned all this but it sort of came out this way.

Sunday's letter on the other hand, is much more of a character study of himself if anything. I wanted to explore how he would feel about all this, the way he would handle such a situation of his beloved sister being shot.

We know that Sunday uses puppets, but it's never stated why or how he had them in the first place. We can also see how he can manipulate them, making them act out scenes and characters during the time when we are stuck running through those Memory Zones before his boss fight, which I took and built upon the idea.

Sunday is a very complex character, so I made him a little mentally unstable when concerning his sister. The way he lashed out at his puppets, destroying them all over and over while making up scenarios of her shooting in order to cope. He even thinks that a puppet is Robin for a second.

If this is out of character or not, I don’t know. I wanted to give him more character than we see in the actual story, and naturally my thoughts went to this. It is mentioned how much he loves Robin (as a sister obviously), and so I wanted to see how far he would go for his only family left.

I took the concept of Harmony and expanded on it. We can see that Harmony can alter the mind's state, so why not make it so they can control others by altering their thoughts? I often like adding additional powers for the plot that still make sense in the realm of the game.

For Robin, it was mostly subconsciously done. For Sunday, he does it intentionally for his own reasons. Both use Harmony to alter minds without asking if the intended victim wanted it, making them both in the wrong.

We have these whispers present, the choir above that Sunday can hear because of how attuned he is to Harmony, alongside Robin that he rejects often. I don't think this is a thing in game, but I thought it would make everything so much more intriguing!

His distrust in Harmony grows and the rejection started from the first seed of doubt planted by Mr Gopher Wood. I imagine that his manipulation started young, slowly introducing the disharmony into Sunday's ideals.

This whole section quite literally foreshadows the rest of the story, it's great.

The Present

The major part of this story is when Robin is in Sunday's consciousness.

We have no idea what happened to her there, only that they were “put” to sleep. In Ena’s Dream, apparently it is called Tuning that she went through alongside Welt Yang by Sunday, who mentioned that nothing too bad happened to him there.

Then again, apparently it was Jing Yuan who saved Welt from Sunday’s subconscious???? I don’t really know how that works but point is, I had a lot of playing ground for what happens to Robin in there.

Here, we are introduced to the idea of Memory Zones (every time I read this, I think of Mystery Zones from Pokémon Diamond/Pearl/Platinum), areas of Sunday’s subconscious that he made to house his manifestations.

The first zone that Robin enters is incomplete. I imagine that Sunday never prepared for the possibility that Robin would ever enter his mind, so she was thrown into a zone that was quickly conjured up to keep her.

Since Robin too is attuned to Harmony, she can affect the Memory Zone to an extent. The colours you see on the ground is from her own power, as you can tell by the fact it originally came from her every single time it is mentioned.

As to why this is happening, I think it’s more of a subconscious thing once again. Robin doesn’t truly mean to use Harmony here while stuck in a random zone.

She can also hear the whispers, although they are trying to help her unlike Sunday’s ones. This is clearly a major foreshadowing point that you realise later on that these aren’t the same whispers.

We see the Charmony Dove from their childhood flying around and giving Robin a bit of trouble. This was definitely Sunday’s doing, who finally decided what he would do with her.

I wanted Robin to sing here because I thought that it was the best way to calm down the little bird, and symbolize how important her singing is to her and the world around her.

As she keeps saying, it’s the only thing she is good for at the end.

It was Sunday who made the bird fly away like a puppet with feathers, and Robin ran after it. I feel like she’s very selfless, to the point that she would run into a trap knowingly.

A zone just for her.

I knew I wanted to use that story with the Charmony Dove since it’s pretty prominent in 2.2. The Memory Zone she runs into is a replica of the bedroom the siblings stayed in, with the Charmony Dove now in the cage they kept it in.

This bird isn’t the same one as before as you can tell, since this whole zone is Sunday’s memory of how he released the small bird to its death. Robin helps it to fly, but it only shattered its wings when it fell as Sunday explained.

That’s when she learnt that this was all her fault, and we learn why that bullet that wasn’t meant to hit her did back then.

It was karma. They do say that karma’s a bitch, and for Robin, it took form with that bullet. It sounds like I’m quoting Jojo Siwa but I’m not, I swear ;;

Point is, I AM A GENIUS FOR THIS.

I didn’t intent for it but I wrote down that sentence “Perhaps, Robin was shot in the neck because of what she did” and my brain connected the dots immediately with what I wrote with Xipe earlier.

Sunday finally makes an appearance in person. This whole sequence is interesting because we have him hurting Robin, as if she was one of his puppets. I intentionally made it this strange, with Sunday mentioning after that the zone fell out of his control later on.

I described how his arms were out like an overseer, that’s a very obvious reference to Otto Apocalypse from Honkai Impact 3rd.

The lullaby part is from 2.3, where Robin mentioned how Sunday used to sing a lullaby to her when she was restless at night. I thought it would the perfect final blow.

It isn’t Robin in that zone. But it is at the same time. It’s interesting, isn’t it? Would it be too farfetched to say that it was Robin's consciousness who transferred into that puppet? Who knows.

Robin “wakes up” from that Memory Zone, completely nauseous and disoriented from the sheer amount of Harmony, or Order she was subjected to. We saw this with that doctor earlier with only a small amount of it used.

It was too much for her to handle. It was only when Sunday appears again to cut through it all, does she snap out of it out of his sheer grace. What a kind person he is.

We learn that Robin is in a cage. This is the same cage we see in her splash art! I like to try to integrate them into my stories, like I did for one of my previous stories with Black Swan’s one!

The two siblings share a conversation that doesn’t end well, with him leaving her. It was the only logical outcome for our doomed siblings here. I feel bad for them.

The cage breaking and Robin singing is also based on her splash art, as I needed a way for her to escape the cage that made sense to her and the story. I think it signifies how important her singing is to her and how Harmony interacts when she does.

We see Robin running around all the various Memory Zones Sunday has, noting how there are many puppets in them. I was alluding to when we go through those Memory Zones in the Grand Theater where Sunday tells us some stories using his puppets.

In one of them…we find her companion that was forced to sleep alongside her.

WELT YANG IS HERE.

I just wanted to write him since he is one of my favourite characters and I had my chance to finally in a story!

You can probably tell how much I enjoyed writing him based on how long his part is. If you have played Honkai Impact 3rd, or know Welt’s backstory, this is my little treat for you. If Hoyo won't make him do things, I WILL.

I made Welt finally use his powers. He’s the Herrscher of Reason, he has the freaking Star of Eden (the 9th Divine Key itself), AND HE BARELY DOES ANYTHING PLEASE DO SOMETHING I WANT TO SEE—

Ahem.

Making a bench is child’s play for Welt. I thought it would be kind of funny if he did.

Welt is more childish here since he wanted to cheer Robin up, who looked clearly sad. I think he probably used to do something similar with his adoptive son Joey when he was upset. He couldn't help but do so for his companion.

The idea for him making himself have wings like hers is from this one comic I saw on Twitter that lives rent free in my mind. I thought it would be a great way to cheer her up while also using his power more!

(It took me so long to find this, it wasn't funny how much I scrolled)

His wings smack right onto his face rather comedically and I took that from the official emojis where you can see Robin hiding her face. I imagine that younger Halovians struggle with their wings moving around and his wings are practically akin to newborn ones.

The power of Reason.

This is where I had to make things painful. Welt talks about his experience, the memory that Sunday chose to use against him. I was thinking about what would be the best memory, and of course I went for the jugular for that pain factor.

This is where Welt Joyce, the former Herrscher of Reason died in the city he was protecting. This was where Joachim Nokianvirtanen, who we now know as Welt Yang received the Core of Reason, the name Welt and a mission from Welt Joyce, before passing away.

It’s a very important memory to Welt, and one I would see Sunday exploiting. Only those who know of Welt Yang’s story would know that the man he mentioned was Welt Joyce since I intentionally didn't mention his name.

For Welt recreating half of the town, I was spitballing about the energy part. I don’t know if Memoria would be a good substitute for Honkai energy but I’m just rolling with it. Don't quote me on that.

The main role of Welt here is to reassure Robin, give her the will and inspiration to keep going despite everything. She even tells him all about her experiences, a connection between the two already facilitated by simple communication.

I feel like Welt is such a father figure. If only we all had him in our lives.

Reality

Sunday has now merged with Dominicus and has fallen to those whispers above, as the never ending dream is taking form.

The Dreammaster, Mr Gopher Wood himself makes an appearance as his former form. In 2.2, all his ravens die and he is never seen again, making it pretty clear that he's dead. However, I assume that he joined the Dreamscape and is now an entity that can oversee everything.

Dead only physically, as you will.

The Embryo of Philosophy is named by the Dreammaster here, since I was wondering how Sunday was named that during his boss fight, although it could have been from the whispers THEMSELVES. I also made Mr Gopher Wood show his true colours, to show that manipulative side.

There was a reason for this. He didn't want his son to start rebelling or second guessing his choice, so he used Robin as a way to keep him ensnared in his deception. Evil, isn't he?

I honestly think that Sunday knew that he would ascend to Aeonhood, as smart as he is. At least, he would have had an inkling of Gopher Wood’s true intentions.

Those whispers were Ena this whole time inside of Xipe as we learn. If Xipe absorbed Ena, wouldn’t Ena still be there? I think Mr Gopher Wood and Ena were in cahoots, scheming together. Perhaps even more than that (gets hit).

How…how dare he? 

How dare he glimpse Heaven’s will? How dare he change people’s fate?

How dare he decide the life and death of other beings? 

How dare he represent the will of all beings? How dare he control the greatest secrets and riches of the world itself?

How dare he…hold the fate of the entire world in his hands?

These lines are from HI3, particularly from Chapter 3 of Part 2 but slightly edited. This is what Baiji thinks of his actions to save everyone, and I feel like it also applies to Sunday.

We have many HI3 references here. I couldn’t help myself.

We now go back to Robin's point of view. This is after she awakens from Ena’s dream.

I don’t know if any other people woke up aside from the Astral Express + Acheron, Boothill and Black Swan, but for plots sake, there was. Just some random people we don’t care about.

We have Acheron! I wanted to write her since she played a huge part in Penacony and it would be a shame not to after I read this:

The bloody sacrifice becomes the sweet dreamland. The real world will lose meaning for them, while the eternal dream will become their only reality. They will no longer think with time. Their dreams will be connected, which will create a true miracle that transcends finality.

This is also a treat for the HI3 players. The words here are the words that Raven tells Mei before Project Stigma takes place. I was playing through that chapter at one point and thought that the words fit perfectly for this story.

I rewrote Acheron’s part because I disliked what I had initially. I was writing about Finality and how it was the same as transcending Order but it didn’t fit well so I changed it. I wanted to say how Finality governs time and how it can change reality if you had the authority...but perhaps another time.

As we know, Acheron was the only survivor who defeated End, referring to Kevin Kaslana all by herself without her companions unlike in HI3. I had to mention this and highlight the difference between their cases.

She doesn't show up again in the story, but she also impacts Robin in a way.

Miss Firefly takes the stage!

We have a bit of Robifly because I do ship them and I couldn’t help myself when I had a chance to write an interaction between Robin and Firefly. I wanted something a bit more lighthearted to break between all the angst and pain.

I saw how Firefly mentioned that she can't dream, and so I just wanted Robin to tell her otherwise to cheer her up. She’s following Welt’s lead, being that kind and inspirational person!

I’m sorry for making you the third wheel…

Speaking of him, we have Welt again appear! I couldn’t help myself, I just wanted to write more of him and I felt like Robin would try to seek him out first.

Did you know that it was called a Dream Pool, that bed in the Reverie? I had to rewatch 2.0’s quest because I didn’t remember the name for the life of me.

This time, we have Welt suffering yet again…I'm sorry that I only write you like this. He mentions in 2.3 that he dreamt about returning to his homeland and seeing all his old friends. This poor man, imagine waking up to find that it was all a lie.

The yelling mention was obviously a nod to Tesla who I would imagine yell at him for taking this long to return without a single word.

I hope Welt does get to connect with his homeland eventually, I want to see them or hear them!

We then go into the battle against Sunday! I purposely chose Sunday's point of view here, since we never receive it in the game.

I was rewatching the fight, and noted how sudden the switch from the question Sunday asked to mentioning how it was their final talk felt like it wasn’t him talking anymore, which I made the case here since we have my wonderful whispers.

We learn more about how Sunday felt during this, and what may have happened after their fall. Robin mentioned how she woke up by herself, which could only mean that Sunday left her there.

I think he genuinely was upset by the failure, but most of all…failing Robin. The feather falling down is a reference from how there were feathers flying around when Robin appeared and how the Trailblazer took it into their hands.

It clearly has the power of Harmony, and that’s what Sunday can feel when he holds it tightly. I imagine that he would keep that feather with him, as a reminder of what he lost.

The ending is based off 2.3, where we learn that Sunday is captured and will face trial. I didn’t go into much detail since we really don’t know much about how he was caught.

It won’t be the end.

It will be the end of all the suffering. 

I will realise my dreams.

I will make my dreams come true. 

I won’t fail again.

I will never fail.

The poison to Penacony still lingers.

I am a traitor. 

These are Robin and Sunday's thoughts respectfully. As you can see, they are both the same fundamentally. That goes to show how they are both traitors in a way, aren't they?

We have a little ending about the siblings, alongside a story with a snake.

The snake is Miss Jade herself, where Robin went to her to make her greatest desire come true...to let Sunday go free. I wanted to reference the end of 2.3 where we see Jade talking to Sunday, how he was free but he refused her.

I repeated the words Acheron spoke for the very end to tie it all together. The perfect words to end a story filled with so much!

End

Thank you for reading all this! I’ve spent way too long on this story and I’m glad it’s finally out there for everyone to read!

I feel like in terms of storytelling, this is my best story so far! I'm proud of all the elements I was able to merge into this!

- Miku

[mandalhoerian]

last words on moth to a flame.

oh god i kept sleeping the whole day away on and off this fic really drained me and now i'm literally done with it i feel so empty. (if you dont know what im talking about, final part to ghost to its haunt is out)

like moth to a flame (as a series) is the first project i've completed EVER and i'm feeling so great (even though half of it was shameless porn) but also it's done now and idk what to do with myself hhhhh

no joke i've written a whole novel. the minimum words for a novel is 50K and:

It feels SO WILD.

Thank you so much for seeing this through with me, all the support and being patient with me as I scrambled to finish everything!

More blabbering thoughts below the cut for the final huzzah (i am giving this fic a send off after all. ur getting a huge author's note)

moth to a flame was the first leonxreader fic i'd written and no joke, my first smut too. looking back i was really writing it for ME lmao, practicing and playing around with leon's character and everything.

i am lucky to have it blow up this much (thanks to that one tiktok account who recommended fics you have my heart) because it t came out relatively early like right after re4r release. i received incredible comments on it. like PARAGRAPHS and whole essays picking it apart and appreciating the details and i never got around to answering any of that because i didn't feel deserving of that kind of praise. I've never gotten attention like that before and i felt unworthy of it? I didnt feel it was anything special, leon isnt a new character there are better works out there,

but i get that fics for re4r leon were being put out SLOWLY and mine just happened to be on the better side of the spectrum since i started working on it way before march when the remake came out and had months to revise and edit, so that's why it's much more superior to lamb to the slaughter and ghost to its haunt which are dopamine-fueled, weeks-old projects barely beta-read basically running on concentrated inspiration (and i've been dealing with cholecystitis for months waiting for surgery through it all. so it's really been a roller-coaster ride) 

to this day i have no idea why both ended up to be 25K words each dude 😭 i just wanted there to be a story i guess? like, when people said they wanted more in mtaf's comments i just wanted to deliver a decent plot and have a strong background on how the reader had ended up in a situation like that with leon, and things just branched out from there.

i took so much time on them because I FREAKED OUT over it being slightly popular. you guys know. lmao . its all i talked about on ltts notes BSDSJDS

by the time they came out though, attention and interest had fizzled out majorly, like, anons who were begging for a sequel did not come back after ltts dropped I CLEARLY remember (after getting what they wanted from me) AHAHAH but i did deliberately shoot myself in the leg with that one, i am AWFUL with expectations, so it was between "what the hell, let's go low-ER" and "let's go out with a bang"

i think i did get back on track A BIT with ghost to its haunt, but still, it's its own thing, you know? i did say it'd be a good ending, so it has a good ending... in moth to a flame standards.

this series ended up to be a choose your adventure type of story. it's up to you how it ends. if you like angst, just accept it ends with moth to a flame and reader and leon are done and go their separate ways. if you don't want to settle with that and want the story to continue, you have a dark romance with a doomed ending with lamb to the slaughter; and if you like a kinda hurt/comfort fluffy bittersweet conclusion instead, ghost to its haunt is for you.

So yeah. It's really over.

Thank you so much everyone. It's been a pleasure and a great couple of months. If you want to come talk to me in the asks or whatever about the series, you're more than welcome.

See you next time in potential new projects!

[almxndrekitou]

Things I never understood

An extract about a certain close one that left me when I needed them the most, I'm moving on, this is how I chose to do it, I'm not reminiscing, I'm letting go, I do not hold any resentment towards them neither do I want to, I don't particularly feel love about them any longer, I feel content for the way things are, perhaps you needed it, d, I won't blame you for it, I won't blame you for feeling hopeless and for being tired of me, I won't, I'll miss you when I see things we laughed at, I'll smile over our older chats but there aren't any left, it's all gone to shit with the wipe, but I have screenshots of it and our posts, It'll take me forever to forget you, not because you were an amazing person or smth but because you were there when I was alone, perhaps... well nothing nevermind that.

Water flows and water goes, so does time, it's all fine.

I didn't understand why our four year long friendship never turned out as fruitful as I was thinking it would be or rather was

I felt like a fruit had grown, we had accomplished growth and maturity as two individual beings

I wouldnt say I hate you for how the fruit I was holding so dearly was nothing but a delusion you created for me to tug onto because well... I don't really know why you did that.

I never understood how it all just watered down into nothing, I didn't know where I went wrong, perhaps, the never ending doom that followed me everywhere was what you hated about me?

I'm sorry I couldn't really control that then but neither can I now

I couldn't let go of you either

You were the first friend I ever placed so much faith in

I don't understand how you changed so much and how did I become nothing for you just like that, dear best friend, if I may

I still remember asking you in our school bus if we can be best friends and it seemed so silly

It's still a little silly

It's cute

I miss you a little, everyone says I shouldn't, and I agree

But you know everything about me, you know every relationship I've been in, all my favorite things and foods, and all the little things I kept my heart in, you knew my fears and my greatest treasures, you knew all of my moles, except one, things ended between us before I could tell you about the mole on my hip

Perhaps, this banter was simply just unnecessary and pointless

Perhaps, I'm delusional when I thought we had something, I was wrong maybe and maybe I was thinking we were close

I was looking forward to our kids playing in the same sandbox, you know?

Communication with you got so ragged

I barely knew what you were upto

Other than how fed up you were of your college professors, I never really knew anything about your mind, other than the basics

I have a useless hope brewing in my mind, that maybe you're awake too right now and thinking about texting me and asking me what's Barbie's boyfriend's name... Ken...... Ken-deez nuts..... whatever.

You never really talked about yourself right? Maybe I should have noticed then and... oh right I did but you never broke your face

In the end I was right whenever I felt wrong about you bailing on our plans, online or offline

Idk, are you good? Ima write more tmr

[imperceivablesexygender]

god im exhausted

stupid hopeless yearning underneath so i don't inflict lengthy ramblings scroll of doom on the 1 person who follows this blog. hi anna you don't have to read this i'm just being dumb about my best friend and wanted to put my thoughts down

so for context. i have one (1) very short previous romantic experience. and by very short i mean half a summer, before freshman year. i have only told my 3 family members (where secrets go to die) and i don't know if she told anyone else - this thing barely even happened. we cuddled at night for a couple of months. but it's the only time i've been remotely near a romantic relationship with someone, so it counts. to Me. i don't know if it counts to Her. but i know she remembers.

this girl is my best friend. we've known each other since kindergarten. i was a dumb 8th grader who couldn't understand attraction if it hit me between the eyes. she'd had a few boyfriends - she was a bit more explicit about what she wanted. but only barely - we never talked about how we cuddled at nights, we never talked about the one time she tried to kiss me in the dark and i squeaked in surprise and didn't know how to react and she never tried it again.

she's moved on. i swear she has. she's dated a girl and our other best friend and at least three other men in the six years since our absolute nonrelationship. had a phase immediately after getting away from our abusive ex best friend where she went on a ton of blind hookups. she's Miles ahead of me in the sexual experience department.

i am So Fucking Horny for her it's not even fair.

i don't Know if i'm In Love or if she's simply familiar and safe enough for me to want to explore my own sexuality with her. i've had three (3) dreams starring her in the past few months.

i tried to ask if she'd be down. we were on shrooms together once, and complaining about romantic prospects, and she made a "low-hanging fruit" metaphor - that maybe a person should stop looking up into trees to pick fruit, and instead look around to see who else might be trying to do the same thing. she looked at me with the biggest earnest doe eyes when she said it and at the moment i would have sworn she was talking about herself, but i wimped out at the time and asked the next morning. she said she wasn't. i dropped it - if she's not interested i don't want to push anything and risk losing her again. i'd rather have her as a friend than not at all, no contest

now she's got a boyfriend. the guy seems great, genuinely! he likes her a lot, and she seems happy, and i really do think he seems chill.

a little more backstory - there was this call-and-response bit we used to do, where she called and i responded, and as part of the bit i would be deliberately obtuse and not finish it, for reasons unknown to me then and unknown to me now. once we started semi flirting and cuddling at night, i finally completed the response. this was a bit that went on throughout that summer, that did not continue after that summer when we ended things, and that has been invoked *maybe* once since, when we were very high.

today, apropos of seemingly nothing, she started the call.

and being a hopeless fool, i finished it.

i couldn't have interpreted the look on her face if you paid me. i tried to play it off like it was nostalgic to me or something, and she didn't say anything else about it, but.

i've thought i've been reading into her actions too much for forever now. i keep telling myself, dude cut it out, you're seeing patterns that aren't there, she's over you, you just need to put yourself out there and forget about it. (easier said than done - it's not that i don't want to try, but that how the fuck am i supposed to "put myself out there" as a 20yo with no experience. it's diving into the deep end without knowing how to swim. also i can't drive myself to dates, and have an aversion to dating apps.)

except there has never ever been any connotation to that stupid call and response between us other than a romantic one. we BOTH know that. she Has to know that. why the FUCK did she do it today.

im gonna ask. i Have to ask. it's just fucking exhausting winding myself up about it. i'm terrified she won't want to stay my friend if she finds out i still have feelings. even though i'll be so stupid normal and fine about it if she says she doesn't feel the same way. she'll never hear about it from me again. because i care about her and our friendship and i'd rather ignore my own yearning than lose her completely.

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 34

💖 first time reader click here 💖

A little bit of plot, but mostly ironstrange x reader filthy porn. Bukkake stuff. Stephen finally opening up a lil bit, I mean... I've slept through a 1/3 of a hospital and lemme tell you, doctors are kinky bastards. On the same note, there's definitely going to be a chapter where all three men are involved after the plot shit is resolved.

There was something big brewing. I had a hunch... which was more like a strong sense of doom... hanging over me and the rest of the world. Peter also had noticed the sudden spike in anxiety, quoting the sudden disappearance of many low-tier mutants from the streets. Usually, Peter dealt with at least a few enhanced enemies during his patrols but the closer it got to Christmas, the less enhanced bothered with small-time crimes, the more intense the buzzing of his Spidey sense became.

Now that my immediate lack of income wasn't a problem anymore, I set business onto that damn mercenary. I was no spy, I was no SHIELD operative but... I could be very clever.

First things first, I had to make sure I would stay alive no matter what. A subdermal tracker was a good guarantee of security and I spent many hours making one - having to keep it a secret was incredibly hard, I hated lying to my loves and I hated avoiding Wanda even more - I was constantly on the edge around the telepath, hyperfocused on keeping up the pretense of normalcy.

I wouldn't be me if I couldn't successfully pull off a whole ass façade. Unfortunately, the continued failures of the people searching left and right for the mercenary only fueled my strength for the inevitable fuck-fest that I would have to create in order to make sure my people get the peace they fucking deserve. The web of lies grew in size every damn day.

Subdermal tracker, an implant that reports directly to Friday upon activation. It hurt like a bitch - I had cut myself open, an inch wide gash on the inside of my forearm - and put it in without any anesthesia in my own bathroom, not even thinking twice before making up a lie that I had been careless in the lab and hurt myself.

An antidote to common tranquilizers, creating it gave me a headache the size of Moscow but I'd been successful; Tony assembled the whole team when he found it out, offering me a ridiculous amount of money for the formula. It was weird. SHIELD was interested, too, and I had to witness Tony and Coulson argue. Apparently, the agency wanted to recruit me and Tony was adamantly against it, totally forgetting the promise Natasha had given me. In the end, the spy and Coulson shared a quiet conversation and the man left, respectfully complimenting my skills.

I sold the formula to Stark Industries, unable to get rid of the weirdness of the situation. I had to shake hands with my own boyfriend and his ex-girlfriend... In a business setting. What. Just what. Bucky and Stephen couldn't stop laughing at the face I made all throughout that day - and Clint even went as far as to bake me a gag cake, a cartooney handshake drawn in frosting on top of it. I hit him with a spatula, Loki smiled in his direction for the first time in, like, ever. It was a trip and Tony had way too much fun with the incident.

Perhaps, turning myself into a cyborg stew wasn't the best plan that was possible to think up in a few weeks' time but I've never claimed to be exceptionally intelligent; if anything, I've always considered myself to be a moderately educated idiot. It is common knowledge that there are two halves of a whole idiot: my second half was on his way from California, having had received my very detailed e-mail about the whole cursed box fiasco and the consequences that followed. I could barely contain my excitement at the prospect of seeing uncle Eddie and his symbiote again.

Tony wasn't even half as excited; if anything, he bordered on outright hostile, bickering, and sassing everybody left and right. It could have been the situation at hand finally getting on his last nerves. It could have been his jealousy, the same that appeared every time I paid extra attention to someone that wasn't him, Bruce or Stephen. Either way, Bruce was sighing all the time now and Stephen's remarks began to fill with poison once again.

Just like the good old times, I guess. I was forced to pull a Me over and over, interrupting their petty arguments with increasingly absurd remarks. I felt like everybody was laughing at me these days, which ended in only one way it could have...

"Brat," Stephen's patience was paper-thin and, being forcefully distracted from yelling at Tony, he directed his angst at the nearest person - me. "I oughta put you over my knee. I swear to Cosmos..."

"Blah, blah, blah. Don't you ever get tired of listening to yourself talk?" I raised my eyebrows, tone deceptively calm. "You're talking too much for someone who can't even..." I didn't get to finish my sentence, suddenly finding my mouth firmly glued shut. It was magic - the sensation was pulling, but not unpleasant. Reminded me of a ball gag Tony had used on me in the early days of our relationship.

"Now, Dumbledore, hold your horses..." Tony interjected looking none-too-happy. The engineer placed a warning arm on the sorcerer's bicep, their little spat seemingly forgotten.

"What, Tony? She's been nothing but a mouthy urchin the past few days, I can't stand it anymore," They shared a meaningful look; no matter how much Tony wanted to argue, he knew Stephen was right. What he didn't know was that there probably have been a magic versus science altercation... Or worse. Humiliation was a small price to pay for some (relative) peace.

I did what I do best. I annoyed them further, throwing up a juicy middle finger to the two men and turned around with a huff, mind set on finding Loki to undo the mute ban Stephen gave me. Needless to say, I didn't make it very far.

In mere seconds, I was sandwiched between the two men, Stephen's finger delicately holding my chin to force me to look into his eyes. Tony was holding onto my shoulders from behind me - I could feel the tension, my engineer was almost buzzing with it. I was pretty sure my eyes were laughing anyway because Stephen's frown slowly transformed into a coy smirk once his stormy blues focused on my face.

"Brat," He repeated once again. "She's doing this on purpose."

"I can't say I'm surprised," Tony's breath tickled the nape of my neck. "That does sound like our little Princess," Apparently, it took all of a 0.1 second for Tony to switch from annoyed to horny. Men, they were so easy to play. "Baby, if you wanted our attention you could have just said so," He chastised me, hands sliding down to my waist.

I hummed, and then aggressively hummed some more until Stephen removed the magical gag. "Not like you'd notice it, being occupied with tearing each other's hair out," I pouted.

The sorcerer briefly averted his eyes, leaning down to softly kiss my pout. It was very unlikely I'd get an actual apology but a kiss I won't be complaining about either. "So, your best tactic was to annoy us even more? How does that work out for you?"

I pulled on the tied fabric around his waist, bringing him closer to me. "Pretty good, if I'm being honest. You're exactly where I wanted you to be," Carelessly, I began untying the layers of silks and cotton I had become intimately familiar with over the course of the past few weeks. Most of the time Steph wore his wizard garbs and while figuring out how to undo them was a trip at first, I had gotten him desperate enough a few times, for him to show me a few tips and tricks for easier access.

Tony snorted somewhere behind me. "You just want us for our bodies," His hands wormed their way under my shirt, brushing the underside of my breasts. Bra? Hardly know her. "Our beautiful, sexy bodies." Yes Tony, very humble.

"When will you learn, people?" I asked rhetorically, simultaneously leaning into both Tony's and Stephen's touch. "Why fight each other when you could be fucking me into oblivion instead?"

Stephen snorted, still not completely used to the at times crude things that left my (and occasionally Tony's) mouth. I had a hunch the sorcerer was holding back somewhat - for whatever reason - and I was eagerly waiting for him to get comfortable enough to reveal that special part of himself. Whatever it was, I just knew it was delicious and sinful and-

"Do you really think I will be giving you what you want after your little... Stunt?" Steph went balls out; his voice dropped and the intensity of his stare left me breathless. The hand that was stroking my face wrapped around my throat as he had some sort of a silent conversation with Tony.

"Yeah," I emphasized the word with an inaudible 'duh' behind it but obediently trotted along as Stephen backed up towards the couch, leading me by the throat like a pet on a leash. I was steadily going into 'no thoughts, head empty' territory.

"I like it when you get all bossy," Tony remarked casually but he was close enough for me to hear the strain in his voice. Every time we fucked, Tony eagerly gave up the control to Stephen. I definitely saw the appeal. Stephen Strange demanded authority effortlessly, his stern but fair attitude simply demanded to kneel.

That's just what I did. As soon as Stephen made himself comfortable on the Italian leather couch, I dropped to my knees, looking up at the man with big round eyes. Just like Tony and Bruce, Stephen had his own weaknesses when it came to moi and I wasn't ashamed to exploit them. Steph's stroked my hair, carding careful fingers through it, slowly unbuttoning his pants with his other hand.

"If you insist on being mouthy, I have a better task for you," He husked, pulling me closer towards him. I called it his doctor voice. Honestly, I don't have a clue how his surgical team could be around him with their pants on back in the day... The man was a snack on a silver platter.

Steph's erection sprang free. I didn't hesitate to wrap my hand around it, stroking the underside of his glans just like he liked it, looking to the side where Tony landed on the couch next to Stephen, a curious look on his face. Yeah, Tony liked to watch. Me and Stephen or me and Bruce... Me and Stephen and Bruce? That's an idea for later.

"Don't mind little old me," Tony smirked his trademark Stark mischief, getting comfortable, ditching his oil-stained shirt and unbuttoning his pants to lazily palm himself through his boxers. "Carry on," The smirk only grew when Tony noticed both me and Steph eyeing him with amusement.

I hid my grin, nodding my head, before wrapping my lips around the tip of Stephen's cock, relaxing my throat to prepare for the intrusion. Sweet and salty, the slit on his cockhead was mercilessly teased by the tip of my tongue.

Stephen murmured encouragements under his breath as I began to bob up and down, him controlling the pace with a hand in my hair, just the right balance between cruel and gentle. The sorcerer was always too good to me, bringing me to the point of overstimulation and instantly soothing the ache afterward; "Fuck, darling, your mouth feels like heaven," He groaned as I snuck a look upwards to see his lips parted and a steady flush crawling up his neck.

"She knows how to work a man, doesn't she?" Tony's lust had him panting, hips moving into his own hand. He leaned closer to Stephen, brushing my hair behind my ear with a tender hand. "Merlin needs to share," Tony began pulling me in his direction. I reluctantly let go of Stephen's cock, keeping up the pace with my hand as I scooted closer to Tony to be able to mouth at his stiff erection.

Watching me suck cock always got Tony hard enough to pound nails with. I couldn't blame him, I knew what I could do and did well; by the time I made my way down his thick flesh, drool was dripping down my chin and the make-up around my eyes was surely smeared by tears. My engineer was much less gentle than Steph, pounding my face without reservations.

"I know you can take it, baby girl, fuck," My face was held in his strong grip, thumbs digging into my jaw. "Such a good girl," The two words went straight down to my pussy and I had to squirm and clench my thighs together, whining at the lack of friction.

The air was pierced by a low moan - Stephen was fisting his erection almost desperately now, almost as desperately as I was humping the air, whining like a bitch in heat at the taste of Tony's cock in my mouth. I knew neither of the men would last long, not with all that pent up tension running through their minds and bodies.

"Fuck, come here, baby girl," The engineer yanked me off his cock, gripping the base of it so forcefully his knuckles turned white. I was all but dragged into the space between them; still kneeling, barely seeing with snot and tears smeared all over my face, I couldn't hold in the broken moan as the realization set in.

"Keep your eyes open!" Steph instructed furiously, scooting to tower over me. Tony followed in his steps as I obediently lifted my eyes to their cocks and then their faces; nearly identical furrowed brow expressions stared back at me, lips moist and eyes wide. Both men stroked themselves with renewed vigor.

I hummed softly before sticking out my tongue; their reaction didn't let me wait long. Strings of pearly white cum landed in my hair, on my face; I felt the warmth on my skin and tasted their salt and musk on the tip of my tongue, reflexively swallowing each and every drop that landed in my mouth, savoring it just like I savored the sinful groans that left their mouths.

"Fuck, you're so good to us," Tony panted, gracelessly falling backward onto the couch.

Stephen, however, didn't hurry to catch his breath, giving me a thoughtful look. His fingers shook more than ever but he paid no mind to the discomfort, gathering the cum dripping down my face with two fingers and offering it to me, holding them up to my lips as I gently cleaned them off. And he did it again, and again, until Tony gave a weak moan of recognition, throwing an arm under his head.

"Be polite, Princess," Stephen's voice hadn't lost the lust in it just yet.

"Thank you, sir," I mumbled, utterly captivated by the way he was looking at me. Stormy blues radiated a strong sense of intensity, devotion perhaps, that I wasn't ready for.

Stephen smiled at me, almost coyly, before kneeling right next to me and bringing me over the edge with a few sharp, clever movements of his hand. I held onto his shoulders for dear life, barely noticing Tony's reaction - if there was one - my other lover seemed to be as surprised as I was, choosing to hang back and observe the unusual situation.

I had a feeling that whatever it was, it would make another appearance during our playtime. It wasn't just sex, it wasn't making love - it was... Something. I loved every second of it.

@another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie @mikariell95 @gladiosamicitias @toomanyrobins @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming

[hamliet]

I've never seen Game of Thrones but I've heard a lot about it and apparently many people are upset with the ending. Something about Targaryen becoming a villain at the last second for no apparent reason? Idk, could you explain what's going on? I heard it's based off a book series. Does the show stray from the original plot or stay loyal to it?

*starts sobbing* SPARE YOURSELF

Honestly I’d sum it up like how @mercyandmagic summed it up: image Harry Potter wins the Battle of Hogwarts, but in the very moment he wins, he snaps and the Voldemort horcrux inside him suddenly takes over the rest of his soul and he murders almost everyone and Ginny has to put him down at Hermione and Ron’s urging.

That’s what happened. It was a tone-deaf plot twist in this day and age, misogynistic, ableist, and racist in its execution, and it was poorly written as well--like, there was no foreshadowing for this twist of events.

The thing about the books is that they aren’t completed. We are 5/7 books through. The creator told the showrunners the bare bones of the ending (who lives/dies/gets the throne), so I’m hoping this isn’t his endgame exactly. Others speculate it might not be (for example, the main ship--Jon and Dany--might still have one killing the other, but it might be more in a sacrifice than in a “put the mad dog down” scenario like the show gave us. Still hate it, but not “burn it all down”).

We know they cut some characters from the books whom at first I assumed the fact that they were cut meant that they were extra fat, and... well I am now hoping that’s wrong because combining their arcs with the characters we have left would explain a lot about it being shit. 

So, the primary defense I’m seeing of Dany Villain is that she’s a tragic heroine, and her descent just wasn’t written properly. I’d agree that it’s not written well, but I’d also argue that in both the books and in the show, Dany is not presented as a tragic heroine at all, but as a hero on a gritty version of the hero’s journey–just like Jon--but one of the cut characters is indeed a tragic heroine. 

The thing about tragedies is that you have to manage expectations and clearly show that your tragic hero is doomed from the very early on–ie you have to show them making steadily worse and worse decisions (see: Eren Jaeger in SnK), if not directly tell your audience at the very beginning that this is a tragic story (ie see Greek choruses and Shakespeare, the prequels from Star Wars because everyone knows Anakin is Vader–plus I’d argue Anakin’s arc only works because we know he comes back to the light in the end–Kaneki Ken in the first Tokyo Ghoul, etc).

We don’t have that with Dany or with Jon, and we’re 5/7 through the books which is, frankly, too late. If they intended to show Dany as a tragic heroine they needed to start foreshadowing that in, oh, book 3/season 4-5 at the latest, and show divergence from Jon Snow’s arc instead of increasing parallels. But they haven’t, which gives me hope at least that the book’s ending plays out a little bit more like Dany burning a city as the “abyss/underworld” part of her hero’s journey (which she is on, and so is Jon) and then redeeming herself in the end fighting a greater enemy.

A hero’s journey includes a step in which the hero confronts the darkness, the shadow. For Jon, it’s a cold death and the fact that winter is coming. For Dany, it’s her father and her heritage’s legacy of fire and blood. The end of Book 5, the last book published, pretty clearly showed both of them falling to the abyss (well, teetering on the edge, and it’s going to get worse before they’re both reborn). But the important thing is that it’s not the end of their journey.

Audiences don’t like reversing on set up/undoing structure. To make Dany a tragic heroine is to go against the structure of her arc in both show and book. That’s why people don’t like it, even if the books makes it seem more believable.

You know who is set up as a tragic heroine destined to descend and die because of her flaws in the books, whose arc has almost certainly been combined with Dany’s in some sense in the show?

Arianne Martell. (and another character known as f!Aegon)

The show pretty clearly merged Jon’s (main hero’s) arc with f!Aegon’s, even giving him his name (in a nonsensical way. In the books, f!Aegon believes he is Aegon Targaryen, Jon’s brother, though he really isn’t as Aegon is dead; in the show, Jon’s dad apparently named… both his sons Aegon. Mmkay). Characters who are  the mastermindsbehind the Aegon plot, supporting him over f!Aegon, take Jon’s side against Dany in the show. Similarly, the show is merging Dany with Arianne, retconning her as letting her demons overtake her in the end, when that is just not Dany’s arc’s set up at all, in the books or in the show.  

In the books, Arianne is incredibly ambitious, and especially resents her brother and his quest for power. Like Margaery (another tragic character), Arianne seeks power and is intelligent and manipulative in her quest for it. But Margaery’s fatal mistake is that in seeking power and prestige, she’s become more a pawn than anything else for a villain (Cersei). She chose to play with lions, and she’ll be torn apart; that’s not surprising. Arianne, as her chapters hint, is going to almost certainly marry f!Aegon, playing with fire, and die burning for it.  

Arianne’s grasping for her own power is never portrayed as cruel or stupid like the main human villain (Cersei); on the contrary, we empathize with a girl who truly cares about her people, but resents her father’s preferential treatment towards her brother. That’s the difference between Arianne and Cersei: Arianne cares. She is not cruel. But her pride is still going to get her killed.

The books as I recall have always, always portrayed the Others (White Walkers) as the primary threat, not the game of thrones. People who get involved in the game of thrones–it doesn’t end well. The thing about Dany, though, is that she sees herself as a revolutionary. “Break the wheel” isn’t in the books (yet), but it’s a pretty good character moment for her that rings true. But this sets up Dany’s primary conflict: does she want to be like her father or not? Throughout the books, she hasn’t wanted to be. But she can’t have her cake and eat it to. If she goes for the throne–symbolic of her family and her father and those ghosts, as it’s always been portrayed as corrupting–she will indeed probably become more like her father. To be unlike her father, she’d probably have to not play the game of thrones anymore at all, and the Others are like… RIGHT THERE to provide this motivation for her.

But the show said “fuck it she’s her dad let me show you a snap two episodes after she saved the world from the Others who after being the primary threat for 7.5 seasons are now an afterthought and defeated after a single day because we gotta go with Bitches Be CrayCray as a plotline”

Man, I remember being disappointed the show cut Arianne and f!Aegon, but honestly it wasn’t until this season that I’ve been realizing how wrong my thinking that “they must have just been fat that could be cut” might have been. I shouldn’t have trusted D&D, that they knew what they were doing. They did not.

Or this might all be wrong and Jon and Dany are just doomed to be victims of bad writing in any case. *shrugs* Who knows if we’ll ever get those last two books (there’s been an 8+ year gap from the last one) so. Yeah.

That is probably way too long and complicated. I am sorry. I needed to vent lol. Also, the Dany and Arianne and f!Aegon theory is not mine--other meta writers for the books have written about it, but I find it convincing and honestly it gives me hope; see here.

[def-initely-soul]

I've had this dream of a slow dance with targeting that turns hot and heavy.. at a Halloween theme party.!!! Lots of fluff and everything you want to add.. maybe a bit of angst too.. Aah.. you can make it anyway you wish.!!!!!! 💜💜💜 I purple you..

I really hope you meant taehyung with that one 😂😂😂

Bias: Taehyung from BTS

Genre: Friends to lovers AU/Angsty/Fluffy?/Suggestive

Warnings: Mature themes

Words: 2.7k

“Taehyung, really how much sugar have you consumed?! I’m dead tired after all this dancing, your blood must have turned into syrup!” 

Taehyung sends you one of his infamous boxy grins as he keeps on wildly trashing his limbs around the dancefloor, in no way resembling the person of his costume, his movements not at all like Micheal Jackson’s in his famous song “Thriller”. Coincidentally that’s the same song blaring through the speakers as the whole party dances and buzzes to the rhythm. 

You only manage to keep dancing because this song is one of your favorites. Otherwise, you would have already found a peaceful corner to rest your exhausted body, where you could calmly sip on your beer and observe the people and their costumes.

But your best friend-slash-secret love of your life-slash-impending doom, Taehyung has dragged you out on the dancefloor and you’ve been dancing nonstop for the past three hours.

And yes, secret is the key word here. 

You won’t go into much detail about your secret crush on him, you’re pretty sure everyone knows, you’re pretty sure he knows. He more than once made some ambiguous comments that you can’t be sure what the real meaning of them is, he more than once looked at you in a specific way that send chills down your spine and made you wonder if he knows. But he never admitted anything to you. 

He did other things though.

Like intimate things. Things that a best friend wouldn’t do. 

So he has you only guessing, only hoping that he might feel the same. But you never know for sure.

“Come on, Y/N, I know you like it,” he smiles innocently at you and you can’t help but smile back. When he smiles like this, you can’t say no to anything he says.

“Hey, how’s Micheal Jackson and Sabrina Spellman doing over here?” Jungkook’s voice comes from a rendition of Indiana Jones as the younger boy smiles at the two of you.

Taehyung high fives him as Jungkook hugs you sideways, his palm resting on your hip and you subtly roll your eyes at the movement. The boy is always like this, touchy-feely, flirty and self-assured, barely not crossing the line between friendly flirting and actual flirting. You don’t mind though. You kinda enjoy his attention, even if you know he’s only doing it to help you two.

Because almost everyone wants you and Tae to end up together. So Jungkook took it upon himself to give both of you a slight push forward.

“Mind if I steal her from you for a second?” Jungkook asks Taehyung, but before the older boy gets to answer Jungkook drags you away on the other side of the dancefloor.

“What’s up?” you ask, mildly suspicious of the boy’s intentions and when he smiles wickedly at you, you know you are right to be.

“I just thought that tonight might be the night that you two...” he begins, letting his words hang in the air as if the rest of the sentence comes as naturally to you as it comes to him.

When you look at him with confused eyes, he groans tiredly. “Oh, come on, don’t act like you don’t understand, you’ve been dancing together for three hours. Don’t tell me nothing happened,” he states as he comes closer to whisper in your ear, in case someone else might overhear.

“Have you actually seen the way he was dancing? If you had you’d know nothing happened,” you whisper back aggravated. Although you recognize this isn’t because of Jungkook, it is because of the situation you’ve been in for some months now. Jungkook is only trying to help.

He brings his palm to his face to rub his skin tiredly as he tries to think of something that might help you. But when he ultimately doesn’t, his hand falls to rest on your waist and push you closer, again so that no one can hear. 

“Look, we have to do something because honestly, it is tiresome to see you two dancing around each other without actually doing nothing but I can’t think of something-”

Suddenly, Jungkook stops as his eyes rest at something behind you, wide in sudden understanding. You stare at him confused but when you open your mouth to ask him what’s wrong, his devilish smirk returns. He still stares ahead, but his hand or your waist moves to encircle your waist from just simply resting on your skin and he pushes you closer to him in what could never be mistaken as a simple friendly gesture.

His gleaming eyes return to your shocked one and he chuckles quietly, before moving to whisper to your ear again. “Relax, I know what I’m doing...” his voice is deep and sends shivers down your spine as you look at Jungkook questioningly. But when he winks at you, you finally get to relax, realizing this must be a part of his plan.

And when the song changes into something slower, something familiar, his hands on your waist move to your hips and he coaxes them to move slowly, following the movement of his own.

You follow his instructions, although a bit timidly, still a bit confused about this. Jungkook continues to look somewhere behind you and you recognize that sort of stare. It’s the one he has when he feels competitive, the one that challenges someone to try and beat him, only because Jungkook knows he’ll win.

“My plan is working, doll..” he whispers, this time against the skin of your neck and you unwillingly flinch back at the sudden contact.

“Wh-what do you mean?” your eyes narrow at him and this time when he looks at you he looks very pleased with himself.

But he says nothing except a quiet “In three, two, one...-”

“Jungkook what the hell are you doing?”

Turning around you come face to face with Taehyung. A Taehyung you rarely see, because he’s positively seething in anger.

“What do you mean? We’re just dancing,” Jungkook answers as nonchalantly as ever, a cocky smirk latched on his lips, his hand still on your waist.

Taehyung’s eyes remain there as he struggles to breathe properly and you’re left in shock, wondering if this means what you think it means. 

Jungkook’s smirk only turns cockier as he subtly moves his hand to press you more against him. Taehyung eyes snap at him at the movement, and you can clearly see the rage in his eyes as he stares at his best friend. But you’re too stunned to do anything. Is he really jealous?

Then without saying anything, Taehyung grabs your hand and softly tugs you forward to follow him. You find yourself actually following him without any resistance, right after you hear Jungkook whispering a quiet “good luck” towards you.

Taehyng only stops when you’re in the middle of the dance floor, away from Jungkook, with his back turned on you. You can see he’s breathing heavily, his free hand brushing through his hair in thought and you tug at his hand currently enveloping yours.

“Tae...” you mumble softly but you know he hears you when he sighs and turns around to finally meet your eyes. His face is sullen and his eyes seem tired like he hasn’t slept for a week.

You quickly move forward, not thinking when your free hand flies to cup his cheek tenderly. “What’s wrong?” your concern is tangible in your voice and you swear you feel him leaning into your touch.

Taehyung sighs, lingering, before his free hand moves to pull yours away from his cheek. At the movement, you feel your heart dropping but then he brings your palm to his lips to kiss the inside of your hand. You feel your breath hitch at the humble movement before he smiles gently at you.

Although his smile seems bittersweet and you still feel he’s not okay.

“This is our song...” he mumbles softly, his eyes on yours as you only now make the connection in your head. Why the melody sounded familiar when you began dancing with Jungkook. 

As the acoustic version of “Creep” by Radiohead blasts through the speakers, you feel Tae’s warm hands slowly wrapping around your waist to bring you closer. And it’s like in an instant every thought dissipates, your mind focused only on the feeling of his hands on your waist, the soft skin of his neck as you wrap your arms around it. You find yourselves moving slowly to the music, your face pressed to the crook of his neck and his cheek rests on top of your hair. 

You’re both lost in the moment, your bodies swinging lightly to the beat of the music as you inhale his scent. One so familiar and fond you can’t help but want more of. His palms against your waist feel like they’re setting you alight but you don’t seem to mind. You welcome their warmth, in fact, you seek after it. You've been seeking it for so long now, you can’t bring yourself to stop from basking in it.

“What were you doing with Jungkook...?” Taehyung dares to ask shyly as you keep on dancing and you raise your head to look at him properly.

“We were just dancing...” you mumble back, just as quietly, afraid you might break the spell that has you both in a peaceful state of limbo. Where you’re not exactly just best friends but you’re nothing more stable than that either.

Taehyung’s hands tighten on your waist before he speaks up.

“It didn’t look like “just dancing” to me...” he mumbles, but his eyes avoid yours. You frown but deep down a small flame of hope begins to form. A hope that he might actually feel the same.

So you brace yourself as your hands fall to rest on his chest and his eyes move to look at you, gleaming and uncertain, while the song changes in the background.

“And why would it matter if it wasn’t “just dancing”? Why would it matter to you?” you ask quietly but not defensively. Not when all you want is for it to matter to him.

Taehyung swallows nervously, as it seems the peacefulness from before gets sucked away, along with the end of the previous song. Now it’s being replaced by a heavy tension, a warmth different than before as “Haunted” from Beyonce starts playing.

It’s like the song suddenly enchants both of you, drowning you both into a thick fog of agitation, eyes locked, not daring to look anywhere else. And his hands tighten again, pressing you closer and closer until you’re flush against him, not an inch of your skin not being covered with his own.

His eyelids turn heavy, eyes darkening in what you recognize as lust and the wet muscle of his tongue peaks out to lick at his bottom lip in anticipation. At the sight, your knees turn weak and you’d be sure to fall if it wasn’t for Tae’s sturdy hands on your waist. 

You find yourself biting your lip as your eyes remain on his mouth and a silent breathless gasp escapes him. You feel your limbs involuntarily moving against him, along to the slow, sensual beat of the song like you’re under some sort of spell and Taehyung follows you almost enchanted by your movements.

Your hands move against his back to press him closer and he happily obliges, stare focused on your lips as you dance against his pelvis. You practically grind on him, while his hands tenderly caress your waist. 

You turn slowly around in his embrace, now your back flush against his chest, sweeping your hair in one side as an open invitation to him. One he eagerly accepts as his hands fall to your hips to guide you more persistently against him and his lips press softly against the column of your neck. 

A long sigh escapes your lips at the feeling as you press your ass against his crotch and a quiet growl reverberates against your skin in retaliation.

“What are we doing...?” he mumbles to your ear, before biting it playfully, no intention whatsoever to stop.

And you don’t want him to stop either.

“I don’t know... But is it wrong that I don’t want it to end?” you turn your head sideways to look at him through heavy-lidded eyes. His eyes are full blown out with lust at the sight, before his tongue darts out again to swipe against his bottom lip.

Then he shakes his head. “No,” he states, the word quiet, intended only for you as his stare at your lips turns even more sensual than before.

You boldly raise your hand to rest against his cheek, gazes still not breaking and his lips move to find the inside of your palm again. A soft moan, quiet enough to be heard only by him, tumbles from your lips when he softly bites the skin of your hand.

“Tae...” you whisper breathlessly when he moves closer to your face.

“What is it...?” he mutters, just as affected as you are before he nudges your nose with his own.

You exhale shakily, your breath hitting his cheek before you close your eyes to relish in the moment. You try to savor the feeling of his hands on your hips, the feeling of his lips resting centimeters away from your own, the feeling of his body filling the empty spaces of your own as if he’s meant to fit there.

You try to bask into all of this before you finally lean forward and place your lips against his own.

A moan escapes him almost as soon as your lips touch and they immediately begin moving against you in vigor, as if he wants to devour you whole. Your hand on his cheek moves to grasp at his hair as his hands continue to guide your hips to move, still pressed against him.

Your mind tells you to stop, to act sensibly in a place with so many people but your senses drown out your thoughts. You need to feel him against you, to taste him, to grasp at his uncontrollable need for you as much as he needs to grasp at yours.

Then his hand flies to cup your cheek as he moves back, only to rest his forehead against your own, and he stares at your lips breathlessly.

“Y/N...” he mumbles, his thumb grazing your cheek tenderly.

“What is it...?” you ask shakily, before swallowing the lump in your throat.

“This...” he says nervously. “We have to talk about this. Somewhere with less people perhaps...” he states quite seriously and suddenly you feel like this was a bad idea. Like he regretted it.

“And maybe we can do more things than just talk... If you want, that is...” he continues with a timid smile on his lips. One that says he’s on the same page as you, that he’s just scared that you might reject him.

So you smile back and you nod. “Yes, I’d like that...” you whisper shyly and his smiles grows before dragging you away from the dancefloor, towards the stairs to the upper floor.

And as you climb up the staircase, your eyes fall to the floor below you only to see Jungkook with a victorious smile on his lips and a raise of his glass to your direction.

In what seems like a congratulatory wave and you smile back at him thankfully. Your eyes return to the boy in front of you and even though you’re not exactly sure what’s going to happen from today on, you’re ready to face it.

Because you’ll face it together.

[teacherintransition]

“Oh what a time it was and what a time it was; it was ... a time of innocence... a time of confidences”*

“... long ago it must be ... I have a photograph, hold on to memories... they’re all that’s left you...”*

We think time follows rules; strict and linear and precise... the truth is there are no rules: a moment can be a decade, a memory can immediately transport you back twenty years in a blink of an eye.

On January 6th, 2002 ... Fant Smart, my best friend was murdered ... I have never truly recovered... it’s been nineteen years, a few of us did a little writing about his place in our lives... thank you friends. Today the topic isn’t in question; for me, it’s a sacred day.... a day where time has no meaning... for this I’m glad. As I was contemplating how I would approach this, I was drawn to how unfathomable and meaningless the passage of time can be. I’ve known people for up to 50 years or more and many move in and out of my life like shadows passing through tall grass in the wind. I knew my friend from 1996-2002... in that short period of time we became close friends, good friends don’t need anymore time than that. In truth, my bond to Fant was cemented after only a couple of days as I’m inexorably drawn to eccentric, non conforming characters. But Fant was gentle and kind ... the only time I can recall him confronting someone in anger was when he confronted me over misplacing some photograph prints in his classroom. Even though I was getting the “chewing” I felt bad for him because he looked so damn uncomfortable being angry. A hour later, he came up to me and said, “hey, you know I found those prints, they were on my desk.” With an air of , “I told ya so,” I answered him with a snarky, “uh huh.” Fant looked embarrassed and said, “I guess half the story can be a dangerous thing, but not with friends huh?” We grinned at each and I replied, “...especially not with a couple of weird hippies like us.”

Fant Allison Smart was born in 1946 in East Texas. He and I taught together for six years which I think for him was sixteen years at his end. He was a songwriter, a traveler, a stone mason and about a dozen other things. To quote from an essay written by a friend of his in Goliad named Rocky trying to describe him on first sight,

“Most of our group were Children of the Sixties, and, try as some did to overwhelm their innate look of Child of a Small Town, one thing most of us didn’t sport—even those who lived and worked the ranch and farm—were cowboy duds.”

This fellow had a nice gingham shirt on, pressed and the pearl buttons all intact with the right about of luster. Wranglers and shined on kaboy boots, and a big kaboy hat on the bar in front of him. Well, to the side, really, since in front was a domestic beer.”**

Fant was a walking, talking conversation piece with all he did and said. Once we had a rented a beach house in Bolivar to celebrate the retirement of a colleague. Having just the right amount of “coldbeer,” (to Fant it was one word without the hint of a pause), I sat down beside him on the deck. He was wearing flip flops I noticed as he always wore the aforementioned kaboy boots, and I looked down aghast at the sight that on his left foot, his big toe was missing. I freaked, “SON OF A BITCH, DAMMIT, WHERE THE F*** IS YOUR TOE?” He barely looked up and giggled and said, “I guess somewhere in Nacogdoches county. I kicked a running mower when I was eight... off it went.” Still recovering from the sight, just seeing Fant’s feet was shocking enough as it appeared that any type of pedicure had never entered his mind, “SHIT! I’m sorry dude.” He winked at me, “don’t be... it kept me out of Vietnam.... hmmm, that might make a song.” It was always like that with Fant...

A victim of heart break and unrequited love, Fant could no doubt be the inspiration for any old school, wang tangy, heartbreaking country song. He didn’t wear it on his sleeve; the bits and pieces of his hurt would escape on FAC (Friday afternoon club), song lyrics, or cryptic emails delivered late, late Friday nights or early, early Saturday mornings.. it just depended on how much coldbeer we had consumed. His mysterious late night emails which often were song lyrics written in reverse and signed to the love of his life, “we should’ve done it different Tressie Ann” or “ in my heart you’ll be Tressie Ann;” was his gesture to let his friends all over the country know that he’d made it home safely...we could all rest with a clear mind. His emails and correspondence were signed with one of his two nom de plumes: J. K. Schwartz or Vance Mart. There is a memorial brick on the square in downtown Nacogdoches with J. K. Schwartz placed on it. What a guy, you getting the picture?

Once, Russell, Fant and I had cooked out and had drinks at Russell’s home. We told him, “you’re not getting out of here tonight... your staying here,” to which he acquiesced pretty easily. There was nothing small or quiet or anything done with finesse when it came to Fant, yet as surreptitiously as a ninja, that six foot, 275 pound bear of a man snuck out of the house. We waited viewing the computer, waiting for his email so that we’d know he made it home safe. 12:10 an email from J. K. Schwartz hit the inbox, we could go to sleep.

FAC, (wasn’t that what I was writing about before chasing a rabbit), was where the witticism flowed like wine ... often literally. One night at O’Malley’s, he had his lap top out which had no Internet service, and we spent the night drinking and typing to no one how our conversation would sound if spoken in an Irish accent. Two big guys with ponytails, drinking copious amounts of coldbeer, speaking like Irishmen, and rolling with laughter at how the conversation looked typed on his lap top and no one was getting hurt. Ahhh “shiny times” ... his term for the best of times...and that they were.

Self discipline has to come into play with this piece, for truth’s sake, I could write for hours. I laugh and I cry when I tell Fant stories even after nineteen years. I’ve mourned him three times the number of years I knew him. I saw him yesterday, I see him now...remember what I said about time having no rules? My biggest fear is that someone so kind, creative, affable, wise, eccentric, funny and human to might be forgotten. We are a poorer species without him, but fewer and fewer people know it. At Lufkin Middle School where we taught, the kids and I and Madeline Porter made a memorial sidewalk to honor Fant. On the day of dedication, it was rainy and gray. I had my guitar and some kids accompanied me as I sang two of Fant’s songs: “Would it Matter if I Misspelled Thermometer” and “We are the Standing People,”(which is a grace he said over Thanksgiving one year as if the tall trees were praying). So many of the staff has moved on (myself included) and all the students grown to adulthood, that I reckon no one even know who the sidewalk is for. It is unavoidable I suppose, but as Merlin said in L’Morte de Artur, “it is the doom of men that they forget.”

I’ll not forget ole Bean, Frijole Compadre ...I know I write about him this time every year ... and it may seem morbid to some; but I subscribe to the Druidic belief that no one really dies, we just change form and we can hold on to special characters if they aren’t allowed to be forgotten

Kaep in kickin' mah stoatin mukker Fant Alisson Smart... I’ll nae ferget ye

Nineteen years ago, I lost my best friend to a senseless act of violence. There has not been a day that I haven't thought of him ....and the days have never been the same. The world lost one of the kindest, creative, gentle, imaginative, idealistic human beings I have ever known.... and had the most fantastic sense of humor that was delivered with a keen and childlike wit. I have experienced loss since and will again .... but have never lost such a rare spirit. I wish I could play guitar with him again ... as I have never played as well since, I wish I could dig deep into the well of philosophical dialogue again.... as I have never visited such since... I wish I could revel in nonsensical humor with him again .... as nothing has struck me as funny since.... I wish I could have one more Friday afternoon club at Flashback as Friday afternoons have felt much more lonely since. No one I know has started a phrase with, " I've heard it said," since I met my friend ... and only the best stories could begin with such words . The world has not been the same since his ugly departure from this realm. I don't feel anger or vengeance .... just loss ... deep loss. I miss you old friend ...the world is somewhat more dim since you went away, but my life is the better for having known you.

“You don’t know what you had Tressie Ann”

*”Bookends” by Paul Simon

**”Where You Bean, Frijole Compadre, J. K. Swartz” ...Rocky and Rosemary.

http://labibliotecacoffee.com/

[adonisstyles]

Omg please write some angst I've been dying for some angry harry and his missus who doesn't let him off the hook easy!!

Omg, this ended up being over 1,000 words. I hope you like it.

A Little Misunderstanding

A/N: smut, angst, perceived infidelity.

It was supposed to be a low key night with Jeff and Glenne and it had ballooned. It was now a 16 person party, 13 of whom were total strangers. You were dressed and ready long before Harry and were sat on the bed waiting as he primped in the bathroom mirror. Just watching him move around aroused you. You clench your thighs at the thought.

“Babe, why do I need to go to this?” you pleaded. “I’ll barely know anyone and you’ll be busy talking to everyone else.”

“N’ true, babe,” he paused. “It’s a dinner, we’ll be sitting next to each other.”

Either a blessing- he’d be stuck or a curse- easy access to your skirt. Now that he couldn’t see you, you rolled your eyes and let a sigh out of the corner of your mouth.

“Babe, I can hear your eyes rollin’ from here.”

He exited the bathroom to see your skeptical yet stern expression. He evaluated your dress and gave you a ridiculous smirk. You pressed out the lapels of his clownish button up and gave him a quick peck. This did nothing to quench the dull roar in your abdomen. He linked arms with you and you walked down to the car.

“Harry, you know how these things go. It’s not that I don’t want to be a part of your career. It’s that you always get so wrapped up that Glenne has to take pity on me in a corner with a flute of champagne,” you breathed deeply.

“It’ll be fine, babe,” he reassures. “I promise.”

During the car ride his hand rests teasingly on your thigh. You distract yourself by staring out the window. He has to know what he’s doing to you right now and he’s not playing fair. You arrive at the appointed restaurant and find the group milling about on the balcony of the restaurant. Already a bad sign, there’s nowhere to force Harry to sit next to you. You immediately find Jeff and Glenne who begin introductions around the group. Names and faces you’ll never remember.

“And this is Jack,” Jeff finishes. “He’s an intern.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jack interjects offering his hand for you to shake. You take it smiling kindly at him. You turn to ask Harry for a drink and find that he has already flitted off to a conversation with some people who you think worked in clothing production, maybe?! Looking back to the current group, Jack is the only one still standing there. He has a somewhat confused expression which turns into a pitied smile once he connects the dots.

“Let’s get you a drink,” he smiles and offers his arm. You take it and saunter over to the bar.

You order a John Collins, you’ll need the fortification to get through the night. Jack orders a dirty martini. The night progress much the same way. He tells you about his doomed lovelife. You don’t divulge too many details- you don’t really know him after all. But you do commiserate sharing stories of past relationships. He puts his hand on your arm to comfort you at the end of a particularly heartbreaking break up story when you’re interrupted.

“Babe, I think it’s time to go,” Harry’s voice cuts like a knife through the conversation, his firm hand on your shoulder. You look up to see a stern, angry twist to Harry’s usually Adonis-like facial features. Oh, shit- what had you done? You hadn’t said anything, Harry had to have known this guy if he was working for Jeff.

Harry leads you out of the restaurant into your waiting vehicle. The car ride is deathly silent. His grip on the steering wheel shifts but is always tight. Finally pulling up to the house he puts the car in park and quickly exits, storming around and opening your door. You step out, trying to project calm. You know Harry would never hurt you, but you can tell something is wrong.

Once inside he turns around and levels you with a scorching stare.

“What was that?!?!” he exclaims. He starts unbuttoning his shirt and sliding it off. He toes out of his shoes next

“What was what?” you retort. He circles you to undo your zipper. You let the dress pool on the floor.

“You know what!” he slings. “The guy at the bar and the flirty hand on your arm thing.”

At this you cannot help but let out a cackle. You are both half naked, in your living room and Harry is jealous of a gay man.

“Jack!?!” you gasp incredulously. “Jack… Jack… is gay!” you gasp between laughs.

With that admission Harry’s brow smooths and his face settles into a “goddammit, how stupid am I” sort of facial expression. His shame is now converted into sexual energy. He’s going to fuck this memory out of you.

He pins you back against the wall and presses a crushing kiss to your lips. Your hands find his trouser button and undo it. He steps out of them and begins kissing down your jaw and neck.

“Can’t believe you were jealous of a gay man,” you moan.

He pauses his kiss and ruts against you saying, “how was I supposed to know he was gay. Just saw his hands on you and your upset expression.”

You slip your hands into his waistband and push off his boxers.

“M never gonna let you live this down, Bambi,” you tease him with a lick to the tip of his nose.

He thrusts into your hand and grabs at your thighs.

“M gonna do my best to fuck that memory out,” he replies.

Before you can fire off your retort he’s sunk fully into you. That dull roar from earlier is now a 3 alarm fire raging in your belly. He fucks up into and toys with your clit. He’s doing a damn good job of making you forget, but you have one upper hand card left to play. You lean into his ear and moan out “Jack couldn’t do this to me.”

At that Harry’s gone, one of the only times he’s finished first. You are not forgotten though, he fucks you through his orgasm and brings you to yours.

You are nothing but a pile of sweaty tangled limbs, coming down from the mutual high.

“Babe, please don’t bring gay men into our bedroom again,” Harry rasps.

“I didn’t bring him in you did,” you say with a slap to his bicep.

He’s never gonna hear the end of this.