#But now it's become much more of a Thing than I was thinking it would be

[prael]

Day 6: Revenge Or Fate

IOI/Gugudan Sejeong x male reader smut

words: 5,611 12 Days of Praelmas Masterlist

"What's that look for?" you ask with all the whimsy you can muster. "I only said that I bought your favourite popcorn. Why are you staring at me as if I just got down on one knee and proposed?"

"You did say you'd marry me someday," Sejeong jokes. Then she does that thing she always does when she's nervous—tugging at the lobe of her ear.

You roll your eyes. "Yeah. I mean when we are both in our sixties. When you have become the crazy cat lady and I the bachelor with a penchant for wine and cigarettes. It's not even close to that time yet."

"Why would you be smoking?" Sejeong wrinkles her nose. She knows you can't stand the smell.

"Because I'll be an ageing bachelor, duh," you answer with a dismissive wave of a hand as you sit by her on the couch. She's got her legs curled up against her chest, the way she always does when it's cold outside. You'd know—she's been sitting like that on your couch every winter since the beginning of time.

She lets out the softest of laughs before it quickly dissipates into silence. She's staring across the room, but not really looking at anything. Her face is painted in melancholy. You know her well enough to know that look, and you hate it. Hate everything it represents. You sigh. The first time you saw her like this was back as teenagers, after the dog she grew up with had been hit by a car. It still hurts your chest.

"You've got that look again," you tell her. "Like there's a million and one things in your mind and none of them particularly good."

"I'm okay. Just tired." Sejeong's smile doesn't quite convince you.

"I wasn't going to say anything. I thought you'd tell me if you wanted me to know, but it's been months since you asked me to come over on a Friday night, so something has happened. I haven't seen this much annoyance behind your eyes since the end of Game Of Thrones. What is it?"

"I'm just feeling overwhelmed, that's all. I wish you weren't so observant."

"You should be used to it by now."

Sejeong flashes a half-hearted smile and takes hold of your hand as she used to do when you were kids. You feel guilty for the way your stomach flutters.

"I guess we have always known each other better than anyone else," she admits, her hand still clasped around yours. It's warm and familiar. You feel the urge to push away, but how can you? It would give far too much away. She has always had this effect on you—you could never distance yourself from her warmth. "He's an asshole."

"You don't need to tell me twice," you chuckle. Then: "Tell me what happened."

"I think he might be cheating."

The air escapes from you at once. The way Sejeong said it is so casual, almost as if she'd resigned herself to this fate a long time ago. And here you are, trying your best to keep your anger under control, like always. But not for her sake—rather, for yours. You know where your feelings belong, and they have no place in the situation at hand. Not today, and definitely not ever. You take a deep breath and look her square in the eye.

"What did he do?"

"I shouldn't have mentioned it," she laughs nervously. She doesn't want to put any more weight on your shoulders than she already has, because that's who she is, you suppose. But how can she expect you to ignore it when she looks like a sad dog staring into the rain on someone's front porch?

"We're best friends. I want to hear everything," you insist.

"He's been acting differently lately." Sejeong pauses. "Distant. Like there's something he isn't telling me."

"Do you think there might be?" you ask carefully.

"It's always something with work. Or a friend that really needs him. Or a family member or—fuck. I don't know."

"I'm sorry."

Sejeong sighs and runs a hand through her hair. There are unshed tears in her eyes. This bastard is making her cry. You want to smash something, preferably his head.

"I don't wanna bother you with this shit," she whispers. She sounds exhausted.

"Don't say that," you retort softly, squeezing her hand in yours. It's clammy. "Don't ever say that again."

She gives a curt nod.

"God knows I've told you enough about my romantic misadventures over the years," you joke. Your chest tightens when Sejeong lets out the tiniest of laughs. Maybe you can still make this right, whatever this is. "Misery loves company."

"You know," she begins, pausing to look at you properly. There is something unreadable in her gaze, something that you've never seen before. It makes you hold your breath in anticipation of whatever is to come. "If there's one person I could choose to be miserable with, it would be you."

For a brief second, you forget that time exists.

"Well, I'm very honoured," you reply eventually. There's another pause where you ponder what to say next. Then, simply, because that seems like the easiest answer: "Do you want me to go beat him up?"

Sejeong laughs and punches you in the arm.

"I thought you were a pacifist?"

"Yeah, but exceptions must be made sometimes."

She raises an eyebrow at you. You can't tell what she's thinking. "For me?"

"Yes."

It feels like standing on a cliff. You want nothing more than to jump, to feel freefall in your whole body. The only problem is that you'll most certainly die. The ground below is made of jagged rocks and bad ideas. Yet, here you stand, willing to do anything in the world for the beautiful girl next to you. Even if it means lying broken beyond repair.

Sejeong breaks your trance when she explains, "There's this girl he works with. We had dinner together with some people from their office two weeks ago, and... I don't know. They just seemed off. She kept looking at him. You know that look? The one where they linger on someone just a bit too long."

"So that's what gave it away?"

"Well, that and the rumour. They had a thing before he met me. It's over now, or it was." A single tear rolls down her cheek. She wipes it away quickly, seemingly irritated at herself. You frown. Sejeong has no reason to be ashamed of being hurt. She should be allowed to shed tears, even buckets full if necessary. You wouldn't judge. "At least that's what he said. He promised me it was over. But... God."

You reach forward to wipe the tears from her cheeks. Her lips tremble, so you quickly move your eyes back up. Staring at her lips is dangerous territory.

"You don't deserve this shit," you say resolutely.

Sejeong chuckles sarcastically. "Then why do I keep ending up here?"

That question stings. Not because it's directed at you—it isn't—but rather because you know the answer. Sejeong has been in this kind of position too many times to count. She attracts guys like honey does flies; every single time, with no exceptions. Only the worst seem to make it past the rest. Sejeong gets caught in their deceitful net time and time again, only to inevitably break her heart after months and months of manipulation disguised as devotion.

"Want my honest answer?"

"Yes."

"I think it's because you're the sort of person that believes the best in everyone. And that is a beautiful trait. I love that you do that. I really do. But sometimes..." you trail off, not quite sure how to continue without sounding accusatory.

"Sometimes I get screwed over," Sejeong finishes. You nod in response. "You're right. I guess it's my fault for trusting too easily."

"No," you shake your head. "It's not your fault. That part is absolutely wonderful. It's just..." You're suddenly hesitant. What if Sejeong takes this the wrong way and shuts you out?

"What?" she probes.

"Have you ever heard the expression 'you can't see the tree for the woods'?"

"Sounds stupid."

"It means you can't see what's right in front of your nose," you explain.

Sejeong stares at you for a long time. You think she understands, but it's impossible to know. It would probably be better that way—if she understood and did nothing about it. You aren't supposed to feel this way about her. How many times haven't you imagined what it would be like if things were different? If circumstances were perfect, if her current guy hadn't appeared out of anywhere and swept her off her feet before you'd even realised what was happening.

But that's just your luck.

"Thank you," Sejeong whispers. "Can we, um, watch something? I don't wanna think about this right now."

You let out an awkward cough. "Yeah. Yeah, of course. Do you remember when you forced me to watch Twilight, and I spent the entirety of the movie complaining about how terrible it was?"

"You still watched all of them with me." A tiny grin appears on her face. Thank God.

"That was truly the highest form of torture," you joke. "I hope you brought something better today. Please don't tell me you downloaded another movie about sparkly vampires."

Sejeong punches your arm. "I'll have you know I am extremely cultured nowadays."

"Yeah? Show me then."

A couple of hours pass and everything feels decidedly normal. You rest against the arm of the couch and Sejeong rests against you. You make jokes at the expense of the film as you always do and she laughs that soft, carefree laugh of hers. The credits roll and Sejeong sits up, stretching her limbs like a cat after a nap. You smile at the familiarity of it all. For a moment it doesn't matter what she has—or hasn't—been crying over.

"I'm tired," she says. She blinks slowly as if to prove it to herself. It's quite endearing, actually.

"Yeah?" you ask nonchalantly.

"Will you let me stay here tonight?" Her voice is small, unsure. But why? It's not the first time she has stayed here. This place is practically a second home to her.

"Like you need to ask," you retort lightly as you stand up and look down at her.

She opens her mouth to speak, but that's when her phone rings. When she sees his name flashing across the screen, she visibly freezes. Annoyance seeps into you like acid rain. His nerve—to call at such an hour, and expect her to pick up. Sejeong just watches, almost paralyzed, until eventually, she does pick up.

"Hey," is all she says. The reply is much longer. You can't make out the words he's saying but the tone tells you all you need to know.

"I was going to," Sejeong replies tersely. Silence. Then: "I told you already, I went over to—" Pause. She swallows thickly. "You didn't tell me you were going out." A longer stretch of silence, during which his voice gradually increases in volume. Suddenly Sejeong sits bolt upright. Her eyes grow wide with confusion and disbelief.

"Me!?" She shouts. "He's my best friend! I wouldn't—" Another pause. She takes a deep breath. "No. No, that isn't fair. You can't—"

It sounds like he hangs up. Sejeong doesn't move. Her hands are shaking violently.

"Do I even wanna know?"

"I should go home," she murmurs flatly.

"To him? To the guy who's probably just fucked his co-worker?"

Sejeong turns to glare at you, eyes cold as ice. You immediately regret your words.

"I'm sorry," you quickly amend. "That was uncalled for. It's none of my business. I shouldn't have said that."

"Why?" she asks bluntly. Your heartbeat picks up in a hurry. There's anger in her eyes. Anger that could turn against you so quickly.

"Why what?" you reply defensively.

"Why don't you wanna be with anyone? You've rejected every single person who's tried to get close to you since we were sixteen. There's got to be a reason."

The world grinds to a halt. Time, space, and life itself stop existing for a minute while you consider your options. On the one hand, you could lie; come up with a suitable excuse and maybe she won't push for more. On the other hand, you could simply admit to the truth that's haunted you for years.

You open your mouth. Close it. Fuck.

Sejeong stands up, wading in the silence towards you. You can't help but take a step backwards. In that split second, you're sure she knows—and yet you cannot tell.

"Have you ever loved anyone?" Sejeong demands to know.

Your heartbeat roars in your ears. "I don't understand why you're asking me this," you choke out. A part of you wishes you were back there on the cliff. At least then you could've jumped off of your own accord, with a little dignity left intact.

"I need to know," is all Sejeong says. Her gaze is relentless. You hate it. It makes you want to claw your own skin off—and there are truths under there that you plan to take to the grave.

"Why?"

"Because I need to know if what I'm going to do next is the right thing."

She stands beside you now. On the edge of that cliff, though it's starting to feel more like you're on the roof of your car. Staring up at the stars on some forgotten summer night. The jump seems more like a flight.

"I have," you admit. Somehow it seems easier than to try and fight whatever force is controlling the both of you. It feels strangely liberating.

"But you won't allow yourself to do anything about it." You know her well enough to discern a question from a statement, no matter how carefully she might try to veil them as the latter.

"It's complicated," you say quietly. She's so close to you now that you can hear the hitch in her breath. Why is she pushing this? "Why are you doing this?"

Her eyes flit from yours to your lips, then back again. So quickly. One, two. But you saw it. And your entire body tingles in anticipation. You'll dare move away—not now, not when the leap of faith feels more like a hop.

She doesn't say anything else. One more small step and her body collides with yours. Lips press against lips and suddenly, all thought scatters. Sejeong tangles her fingers through your hair and pulls. A gasp escapes you before you regain control and kiss her properly. It's frantic, rushed. Years of pining bleed out with every touch. You grab her, pull her as close to your body as possible, and lose yourself completely. Something is swelling inside you. A feeling so large and uncontainable that you think your chest is going to explode any second.

It is indescribable.

All of it—the sensation of kissing her, holding her—surpasses description. You're falling from that cliff, but she's holding you, and before you can hit the rocks she's dragging you to the couch and climbing on top of you.

It feels unreal. The entire world disappears as your lips find hers again and again and again. You don't care to question what happens after. This moment is yours, forever branded in your memories, and nothing can take that away from you. Even if it ends here—even if she were to walk away now—it would've been worth it. Completely and irrevocably.

When you finally part to catch your breath, you can't help but stare at her in awe. She's so beautiful. A masterpiece. Your hand moves to her cheek almost automatically. Sejeong lets her head fall against it with a soft sigh.

"Wow," she whispers.

"Yeah," you croak.

"Please don't regret this in the morning." Her voice is so quiet, filled with so much pain, that it breaks your heart. Your own fears are secondary.

"I never could," you breathe. Then you lean in to kiss her again, slower this time, savouring every sensation as if it might be the last. By some miracle she responds eagerly, fingers wrapping around the collar of your shirt as she holds you steady. You have no idea where this leaves the two of you, but you want her closer—now. You reach around and slide your hands under her thighs, pulling gently upwards. She follows your lead, settling against your lap in a way that makes the situation undeniably real.

As you kiss, her hips start moving back and forth. Soft, shallow movements. Little whimpers escape her throat and fall directly into your mouth. Fuck. She moans—actually moans—into the kiss and a violent shiver travels through your whole body. You break away momentarily to look at her face, flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes staring back at you.

"Do that again," you whisper against her lips.

"Make me," she pants.

The next kiss is searing, open-mouthed, and accompanied by Sejeong grinding her hips against you. Harder now. Unrelenting. Your hands travel up her waist, slipping beneath her blouse to feel warm skin underneath. You feel every tremble of her body when your fingernails drag lightly across her flesh. A gasp—then she leans backwards, with her arms outstretched and clinging behind your neck, to look you dead in the eye as she continues moving her hips against you.

"Sejeong... What are we—"

"Shh."

Your hands snake further up her shirt. Her back arches in response as she grinds down hard, moaning loudly. Your eyes flutter shut briefly to enjoy the sensations—the sounds—coming from her. You force them open once more because you can't miss this show for anything. You push the shirt up and over her chest. Her hands slip from behind your neck momentarily so that you can get the garment over her head. And then she is there before you, bra and sweatpants-clad, panting softly and waiting.

"Sejeong—"

"Fuck me." It is barely more than a whimper, but it rattles the very core of your being.

"What?"

She lunges forward and kisses you forcefully. There are tears in her eyes—tears you didn't notice until now. Her desperation bleeds through.

"Please," she whispers into your mouth, her voice breaking slightly. "Please."

You can't deny her. How could you? You're unfastening the clasp of her bra and your hands are everywhere on her. Pulling her closer, exploring every inch of bare skin you can get your hands on. Her fingers start unbuttoning your shirt—clumsily, but getting the job done. Once open, her nails dig into your bare shoulders, as if testing out whether you're really here, tangible and real. As if you could disappear at any moment and leave her stranded. A loud groan escapes her when your fingers brush against her nipples.

"You're so fucking beautiful," you murmur into her ear. She whines at the words, nails digging deeper into your skin.

The friction between your legs is driving you mad. You've got the burning urge to pick her up and slam her into the nearest wall, but you savour what you have. First, you kiss her neck, then it's a trail down her collarbones. Your teeth nibble playfully at the skin until she moans, begging you to do something. You obey, leaning in to flick your tongue across a nipple before swirling it around the bud. Her fingers fly into your hair and hold you against her breast.

"Holy shit."

Your mouth latches on tighter. Sucking. Biting. The heat pooling between you grows more intense. Eventually, you detach and move on to the next, eliciting more delicious sounds from the girl above you. All those nights spent fantasising about exactly this don't come close to the real experience. You're supporting her, around the waist and the small of her back, while she leans back in your lap, presenting herself to you.

You appreciate every inch of her slender figure. By eye and then by tongue. You draw constellations along her skin, your touch is feather-light. Across her toned stomach to her hips, then right up the side of her body. She throws an arm above her head and giggles lightly as you lick all the way up underneath it. You follow a path to her armpit. Sejeong giggles more when you begin to nibble there too. When you raise your eyes to meet hers she blushes fiercely.

"Weirdo."

"Just appreciating you," you murmur, pressing soft kisses against her shoulder and up to her neck.

"Mm. I like it," she replies hoarsely.

So you spend some time like this. Appreciating her bare body and making her squirm. Kissing, licking, and biting everything that you can possibly reach until her writhing becomes borderline violent. Then she grabs a hold of your jaw, looks you deep in the eyes, and utters the most sinful words you've ever heard her say.

"Enough teasing. I want to ride your cock now."

Every inch of you lights on fire. From your forehead to the tips of your toes, you feel flames lick at your insides. Sejeong climbs off you without another word and starts pushing her sweats from her hips. You watch, spellbound, as she wiggles out of them. Her panties follow suit.

Then she turns to face you. Standing fully nude, absolutely breathtaking in every sense of the word. A goddess. Every bit as perfect as you had imagined. Even your fantasies weren't this good; nowhere near as intoxicating as this moment right now.

"You have ten seconds before I sit on your face instead," she deadpans, you both laugh. At least she hasn't lost her humour.

You unbuckle your belt and shuffle them down as best you can while still seated. Enough that she can reach down and pull your cock free from its confines. Your eyes roll to the back of your skull when she wraps her slim fingers around it. Pumping up and down. You're hard already, unbelievably so, and when she drags her thumb across the head of your dick it actually twitches. You suck in a deep breath, willing yourself to focus.

And then she sits on your lap, sliding along the length of your cock. Fuck. She repeats it a few times. Back and forth, slicking your cock with her wetness.

"I always pictured this," she admits.

"Really?" you croak.

"God yeah, I remember back in college. I must have rubbed one out to you more times than I can count." She smirks at you then—a wicked smirk that makes your entire body shiver. A filthy admission to you and you only. She does it again, drags her wetness along you. How on earth are you supposed to remain composed when she says things like that and does things like this? You wrap an arm around her back and pull her closer, staring at her as if seeing her for the very first time.

"You can't say things like that, I'm gonna—"

She cuts you off with her tongue in your mouth. Kissing you like it's the last thing she'll ever do, and your lips the only form of sustenance she'll ever need. It gives way to her frantic little moan, desperate and unrestrained. For the life of you you can't comprehend what is happening, only react, and fuck if it isn't the most incredible experience you've ever had. Her skin is burning against yours, hungry and yielding to your every touch.

Sejeong shifts slightly and grabs a hold of you properly. Your eyes widen when the tip of your dick brushes against something wet, warm, and soft. The very centre of her. She repositions herself, now holding you carefully against her, and then... slides down the length of your cock, pausing halfway down. The pleasure is so acute that you cannot control the way your back arches off the couch, and neither do you control the profanities that spill out from your lips.

A sinful grin spreads across her face. As her legs are pinned around your waist, you cannot move, but Sejeong certainly can. And boy, does she know how. She starts bouncing herself up and down, riding you so expertly and looking so good doing it. You've thought of this so many times—having sex with your best friend, of all people—but you did not picture it like this.

"This okay?" she murmurs in your ear. You hear the smile in her voice.

You utter the only word you can muster: "Yes."

She laughs airily, placing a kiss on your temple as she continues her rhythm. When she moans—a long, drawn-out moan, half-pained, half-pleasured—and throws her head back, you stare up at her, eyes drinking in the beauty that is in a position so incredibly vulnerable yet completely in control. How you long to capture this moment and keep it somewhere safe forever. She looks down at you now. Her heavy-lidded eyes pin you to your spot as much as the physical manifestation of her pinned against your skin. She traces her fingers down your jaw, your neck, and the top of your chest.

"I wish he could see me now," Sejeong hisses, anguish evident in her voice.

"You look so fucking good."

"He doesn't know what he had," she laughs bitterly. "Fuck him."

"Fuck him," you echo. Sejeong smirks and moves her hips more fluidly. Goddamn. Her tight little cunt feels so perfect clenched around your cock.

She watches your face closely as she keeps riding you. As you keep clutching her hips and help her along, grinding deeper. Groaning when she throws her hips forward faster and faster. Her cunt is so hot and tight. She sucks at the life seeping out of your pulsating cock and squeezes it with her inner muscles in ways that no one has ever done before. Sometimes she pulls completely off you, her breath shuddering as you twitch, only to take you deep inside her again.

Your hands have a mind of their own, sneaking upwards to grip her neck. You give it a gentle squeeze, just enough to get her attention. All the while you're staring intensely into her eyes. They've become glassy, intoxicated, more than just wanting but longing for it. Her voice is hoarse, strained, as she says, "How have I been so stupid? All this time—you're right here, and I never—"

"It doesn't matter. None of that matters."

"You're so—fuck."

Her body trembles and she falls forward onto you. She's gripping your arms, nails sinking into your flesh. Sejeong's breath grows increasingly laboured. After a long string of expletives, she lets her head rest on your shoulder as you snake an arm around her back and support her. Her whole body is rigid, teetering on the edge of an orgasm.

"Never felt this good," she forces the words out amid moans as you buck your hips up into her, picking up the slack as she begins to falter. The rhythm is quick now, urgent, filled with unbridled passion and everything left unspoken for too long.

When Sejeong cums, you feel it all around you—her pussy quivering, leaking her arousal around you, dripping down your thighs and saturating you, almost drowning in the intensity. It makes her moan into the crook of your neck and rock her hips, fucking herself while trying desperately to quiet the sounds of her ecstasy against your body. But that is unthinkable, to silence someone like that, and you tell her so. Whispering the filthiest things in her ear as she throbs around your cock, dragging out the last tremors of pleasure of her orgasm as much as you possibly can. She spills everything out into your shoulder, every word, every whimper. Until at last, you can feel her sagging in your lap, breathing heavily and spent.

"Keep going," she pants, tightening her grip on your arm. "Don't stop."

She throws herself to the side, pulling you with her, and somehow lands flat on her back with your body on top of her. You wince at the sudden shift. But not for long. Because Sejeong opens her legs wide, hooks her calves around your hips, and tells you again not to stop.

You smirk and lean forward, trapping her beneath your body and capturing her lips in a sensual kiss. It is deliberate, lingering. Her arms fly up and tangle themselves through your hair, locking you together. When your tongues meet, you sigh deeply against her. There is a warmth settling over you. Languid, dream-like. Like you're both floating through clouds, carried away by the sweetest of breezes.

There is nowhere else in the world that you would rather be than right here, between her legs.

You rock into her, once, then twice, each time more intense than the last. The angle is entirely different. You grab a hold of one of her legs and hitch it up a bit, allowing yourself to thrust deeper inside her.

"Are you okay?"

"Mm. Move slower. Nice and slow," she instructs.

And you do. Eventually, a hand comes up to cup the nape of your neck. Sejeong stares into your eyes and your breath catches. Then you're kissing, again and again, but there is not so much desperation and anger anymore, but something else. It is the feel of her hips meeting yours, the way you press your bodies together, the softness of her lips and the taste of her mouth. Her breaths rush from her lips to yours, from hers into you.

Sweat starts to bead at your temples as you rock into her. Slow, deep, patient strokes. It is not desperate fucking anymore, or an attempt to pour all of your heartbreak into some meaningless action. It's almost reverential—the way you're holding each other, soft and sure. A sweet torture, a sublime suffering, for as long as time allows.

You don't talk. Your mouths say nothing, at least. With your bodies, however, your fingertips whisper praise against her skin. Spirits float free and serenade each other. Sounds escape her that you haven't even dreamed of. Broken, wanton, as if wrenched out of her. They rise above and meet in a higher plane of reality, where two minds are one.

It takes time. A slow build to the crescendo. You know when you've struck the final note by the way she cries out, over and over again, her pretty little hole convulsing, spasming around your cock. She wants to squirm away but has nowhere to go. You refuse to let her. You smile against her neck and sink your teeth into the skin there.

Soon you follow, groaning her name into the warm flesh. It's a flood—your insides are melting, pouring out from your loins and into her heat, her insides contracting, trapping every ounce inside. Hot, sticky, yours. This feeling. It is as if your heart has grown wings, a phoenix born anew from the ashes of who you used to be. You don't have to be lost anymore. She will carry you, always, her fingernails tracing patterns in your damp skin. There is nothing to fear.

Sejeong whines and moans softly as you fill her. One more careful thrust and you still, collapsing on top of her as the waves subside. All the while she is there, stroking the back of your neck and quietly reciting every piece of filth that she can think of.

You wonder whether this will last longer than the night.

God. Would you be okay with that?

When you eventually move back to look at her, to make sure she's okay, there are tears in her eyes. Uncertainty overwhelms you. Before you can react, before you can ask what is wrong, Sejeong cups your cheek. "Thank you," she whispers, eyes boring into yours with an intensity that takes your breath away. This girl. All these years. All the wasted time. It feels right being with her; everything is finally where it should have been all along.

"You were worth the wait," you breathe. You place a kiss against her brow before rolling off and settling next to her.

"Do you..." Her voice fades. She runs a finger along your collarbone, eyes anywhere but yours. "Do you want this to be a one-time thing?

"No," you answer without hesitation. You catch her hand in yours, entangling your fingers, willing her to understand everything that you're unable to tell her.

Sejeong smiles. Genuine, unapologetic. For the first time in months, she looks happy. Fuck him, indeed. "Good," she says with a soft laugh that evaporates any of her lingering doubts. Her eyes flick to your lips and she whispers, "So, uh, we've got some lost time to make up for."

"Yeah?" you whisper while rolling her back over and climbing over her. "If there's a debt to be paid..." You start trailing kisses down her neck, down her sternum, grinning at the tiny shivers it elicits. "What better time than now?"

Your kisses lead you over her toned stomach. Once you reach the juncture between her thighs, you pick up her leg and set it over your shoulder. Sejeong is already squirming, anticipating what is to come. You take a look at her—mussed hair and flushed cheeks, mouth slightly open, beautiful, tempting. It feels almost gratuitous—that you're able to see her like this. It makes you pull her even closer, and stick your tongue into her center. Her upper body lifts almost immediately and her eyes fly open. A shaky whimper leaves her lips.

She's right. There is a lot of catching up to do. Luckily for her, there's still the whole night ahead of you and a lot more you'd like to show her.

[celestiamour]

MEOW MEOW MEOW SE-MI SMUT X F!READER PLL,ZZPLZLZZ IM ON MY KNEES PLZ

ft. se-mi x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ an examination of piercings turns into something more┊0.8k words

contains: smut!! dom se-mi & sub reader┊tongue piercing, receiving oral, one mention of needles, innocent reader, se-mi is older & called “unnie”

➤ author's note: glad to see the girls getting just as much love as the boys in my inbox

“did they hurt?” you asked, gently holding your friend’s face in your hands and admiring her like a newly discovered painting from the renaissance era. it was mesmerizing how the light shone off the metal, and you couldn’t stop staring, even going as far as to run your finger over the little star of her nose piercing in awe without thinking. it was so damn cute how fascinated you seemed to be by these decisions she made nearly a decade ago in her teenage years.

normally, se-mi wouldn’t have let anyone put their hands on her and would probably punch them if they went anywhere near her face. yet here she sat in her bed allowing herself to be adored by you. she wondered if this was how cats felt when being coddled by their owners, the spoiled white persian kinds you see in movies with diamond collars and more toys than what they know to do with. “no, it was just like a pinch.”

“i couldn’t imagine that— having a needle pierce my skin, i mean,” you shivered. “my ears were pierced when i was a baby, but even then, they’re a little crooked because i wouldn’t stop crying.”

she giggled at the thought of it. “it’s not the needle that’s painful, it’s the healing process. the days after i got my tongue pierced were the worst, i couldn’t eat for days.”

“you have a tongue piercing?”

humming to confirm, she cheekily stuck out her tongue to show off the metal pierced through the muscle, even flexing it to flaunt the jewelry. it was extremely amusing to see how flustered you were becoming even though you tried not to show it.

“why did you get it pierced when it’s not even visible all the time?”

“cause it feels good for…”

“feels good for what?” you asked innocently, tilting your head in a way that made her want to eat you alive.

“well… it’s kinda hard to explain, but i could show you if you like…”

you didn’t have the foggiest idea what she was talking about at first until you found yourself flipped on your back with your shorts dragged to your ankles along with your panties and her head in between your shaking thighs, sliding her hot tongue between your folds and savoring the taste collecting on her palette. this wasn’t something best friends did, but you made no attempt to push her away and allowed her to do as she pleased.

“s-se-mi unnie…” you whined out, fingers finding and tangling with her dark locks yet also doing the contradictory action of wiggling your hips away. you’ve never felt this way before, knots twisting in your stomach and fire spreading under your skin as you try to wiggle away from the foreign sensation that felt too good to be real.

“ah, ah, ah, don’t run from me, you taste so fucking sweet.” her grip on your legs tightened as she pulled you closer to her, swirling the cold pierced metal across your throbbing clit and enjoying your moans like music. “i wish we had done this sooner, don’t you? god, i don’t think i could ever get enough now that i’m here.”

you couldn’t even verbalize a proper answer with nothing but pathetic whimpers falling from your mouth, eyes flickering between her and the ceiling as they rolled back with tears threatening to drip down the waterline. did things like this always feel so good, or was se-mi simply an expert who knew your body better than you did yourself with age and experience? silly little questions you would ponder if you weren’t getting your brains fucked out by just her tongue, making her wonder in return how you would handle taking her strap when you were already going crazy like this. (you have no idea how long she’s been fantasizing about having you like this, sitting in this very bed thinking about your soft skin and lips against hers with her hand crammed in her pants.)

“fucckk, ‘m gonna- ngh!!” god, you didn’t know the word to match your oncoming orgasm, you just knew a peak was about to be reached thanks to her talented tongue.

“you’re gonna cum baby,” she chuckled. “don’t be scared, just let yourself go for me.”

suddenly her plush lips wrapped around your delicate pearl and sucked hard, and like activating a button, you cried out in pleasure and unraveled all over her face, back arched and hands tugging on her hair. she gladly licked up the messy remnants with a smirk, proud to have made you climax in less than five minutes.

“you did soooo good for me baby,” she drawled and pressed a few sloppy kisses on your twitching cunt as a reward, “think you can give me one more?”

[ca1tlynsgf]

pitfighter!vi after a breakup with you

warnings: angst, descriptions of injuries, substance abuse

an: i just farted this shit out idek if it’s good not gonna proof read

——————————————————————————

the bottles seem to keep falling empty out of her hands and rolling onto the rotted wood of her bedroom floor, clanking into each other as vi downs them one by one. it’s been two weeks, fourteen goddamn days since she saw your tear-stained face, cursing at her, “i never want to see you again!” as you left her standing there in the cold, dark street. fourteen days.

in these days, vi has been nothing but drunk and bloody. she upped her fights to three matches a night, four if she’s high enough. her body aches from the amount of trauma it’s been through; a few broken ribs, knuckles bloody and raw almost to the bone, her left eye greenish-blue and slightly swollen.

nothing really hurts though, as long as she keeps putting the bottle to her lips—

“vi?” your voice called out, low and soft in her darkened bedroom. the light from the moon shined onto the floorboards and clutter. vi sat, knees bent and hands resting on them, back against the few cushions she called a “bed.” she didn’t really remember how she ended up on the floor, but she also didn’t even know what day or time it was, either.

she blinked a few times, seeing an outline of a body in the doorway.

she had to be hallucinating. it was the alcohol, it was… no way in hell you would show up here, how did you even get in? how did you find her? how in the fucking world did you-

“violet, what did you do…” your face came into the light, your eyes bore right into vi’s. she tightly shut hers and shook her head, trying to get you out of her mind.

warm hands cupped her face. you knelt down to be face level with her, your thumbs caressed her makeup-stained cheeks. “vi?” that little crease in between your eyebrows that vi loved so much was prominent as you worriedly surveyed the wounds and injuries all over her body.

“are you real?” vi’s voice was coarse, it didn’t even really sound like her. it was like she was talking through water, outside of her body.

you felt tears welling up in your eyes as you heard the broken woman sitting slumped in front of you. “yes, yes i’m real.. i’m here.”

vi’s opal eyes looked into yours, a certain yearn and heartbreak in them.

“i’m so sorry..” she slurred her words, “i fucked up so bad, y/n. you were the best thing that ever happened to me, and i destroyed it just like everything else.” her head hung low on her shoulders as she looked to the floor, hiding her face in her blackened-pink hair. “you loved me in a way no one ever had, saw through all my bullshit. you-you even fucking showed up right here, right now, after all of the shit i yelled at you.. all the things i did….” a sob racked through her body. she was tipping over, the weight on her shoulders becoming too much, and you found yourself catching her with your body. vi clung onto you, wrapping her strong bandaged arms around your lower waist as she buried her head into your stomach. you stayed on your knees, making you just a little taller than her.

vi broke in your arms. she (tried) to hold it in these past couple weeks, not allowed herself to think too much or be alone for too long. of fucking course, as soon as you come in, all of it comes back to her. (it doesn’t help that’s she’s incredibly drunk or how tired she is, either)

“you came back, why did you come back?” vi’s voice was shaking as the inky tears stained your shirt, causing your heart to break even more for the girl in your arms.

“loris came to me, told me you were.. you weren’t well. you’re doing three fights a night, vi? why the hell would you do that, huh?” your fingers gently caressed her head, holding her broken body to your chest.

when vi didn’t answer, you carefully lifted her head. her eyes were closed, eyebrows furrowed.

had she fallen asleep in her drunken state?

“violet, baby, wake up” you stroked her cheeks, but she was out like a light.

you helped her get into her bed, took off her shoes and carefully wiped off her makeup with a wet wash cloth from her dirty sink. she didn’t stir once, not until you got up from her to leave. her hand softly grabbed onto your forearm, and she slurred something that sounded like “stay with me” but you weren’t completely sure.

——————————————————————————

MY SHAYLAA😭😭😭😭🚬😪

[sanriovin]

Just saw the new cover with Sukuna on it.

Riding Sukuna’s tummy tongue when? :(

right now 😼😼 (not proof read, written across many motivation bursts, no idea if it makes any sense 🤞)

(based on vol. 29 official art front cover 😼😼)

sukuna was generally a more traditional man when it came to sex. he didn't often try out new, unusual things, considering he came from the heian era. however, that changed when you came around into his life.

not once had he ever imagined himself to be in the position in which he found himself currently. laying on the soft, silk sheets which oh-so-gently glided against his tough skin, hardened with the many years of his existence and work. his head propped up on a stack of pillows, two of his burly, marked arms tucked comfortably under his pink strands of hair, while the other two were found situated on your bare waist which, compared to his huge, masculine hands, seemed so small, fragile, like a canvas for him to mark and claim.

the mouth on his trained, muscular stomach was wide open, drinking in every drop of slick and wetness that dripped from your pussy, as his tongue ruthlessly bullied itself into your pulsing, clenching hole, finding solice in your warmth.

you were straddling his abdomen, pathetically rutting and grinding your hips against the wide-opened mouth, hands clawing against his tattooed chest, fingers digging in, leaving small, red, crescent-shaped marks as evidence of what was happening. if it were anyone else, sukuna would have rid their useless lives in a mere millisecond, but you, to him, were special. a special he couldn't describe. you made him feel things he couldn't put a finger on, yet he denied any mention of those weak human feelings.

your head was thrown back, legs trembling, as his stomach mouth milked out orgasm by orgasm out of you, leaving you overstimulated, extremely wet, dizzy, and fucked out.

"pleasee, pleasee, 's too much, too much!" you cried out, your upper body falling limp against his, as you continued to rub your pussy against his stomach mouth, spreading your cum and wetness against his unmarked skin.

a faux grunt of annoyance slipped from sukuna's throat, looking down at you with all four eyes, letting out a sigh. "what, are you already tired? do not tell me you are as pathetic as all those other mortals." his voice was deep, low, echoing against the four walls of his secluded chambers, in which the two of you spent more time than he would have ever liked to admit to anyone.

his strong arms tighened their grip around your waist, pressing you down further onto his abdomen, his tongue pushing upwards against your clit, hooking on the hood of it, messily making out with your pussy.

your eyes widened, upper body falling limp against his chest, as mewls and moans of overwhelming pleasure left you. "sukuna, pleasee, feels so good, so so so good, need more, don't you dare stop-"

"who do you think you are, woman? ordering me around? you will take what i give you, so be quiet."

his pointed nails dug into your waist to emphasise his words, as he began to forcefully grind your against his stomach mouth, his tongue lapping up your wetness, as if being controlled by sukuna's pure lust.

it was all becoming too much for you. one part of you wanted him to stop, to finally be able to have a moment to calm down from the pain that came with overstimulation, however another part of you loved and thrived off of the overstimulation and pleasure that came with it.

you hid your face away in the crook of his shoulder, panting and whining pitifully, as sukuna's hands continued to guide you force you to grind and ride his stomach mouth. your next orgasm was approaching quickly, getting ready to crash down in mere seconds, and make you experience a type of orgasm you never thought possible.

"i can smell your arousal and oncoming orgasm, woman. you will beg to cum, beg to fall apart on my stomach, beg for me to give you leniency and release." sukuna spoke, his words laced with a tone of sternness, as he let out a 'tch' sound, tightening his grip, forcing you to come to a stop. inevitably, your orgasm began to slip from reach, leaving you frustrated and tense.

"sukuna, what the fuck was that for?!" you cried out, looking up at him, not appreciating being edged.

"i told you, mortal, you will beg. you will not cum unless you beg for it." his words were set, firm, and you knew he was being serious. he had a certain passion for degrading and humiliating you, for being seen as dominant and assertive in bed by you, it was a guilty pleasure.

dropping your head back down, you began to mumble many variations of 'pleases' and other words for him to let you cum. "'kuna, please, let me cum, let me cum, i've been so good, i promise, i'll help you cum after, just pleasee-"

and suddenly, he grunted, before thrusting his stomach up, grinding you down onto his tongue, causing you to cry out, your back arching as far as it could go, eyes squeezed shut from the immense pleasure, mouth wide open as countless moans and cries left your lips.

"cum for me, then. if you are so desperate, then do it. cum. let me taste you." his words sounded more like a strained growl, as he got meaner and meaner with each guide of your movement. and his words were all that it took for you to fall apart.

your body began to jerk and tremble, as your orgasm washed over you, rushing like a spark of electricity throughout your whole body, causing shakes and shocks in each limb, leading you to fall back limp against sukuna, as your cum continued to seep out of your pussy, directly onto sukuna's stomach tongue.

the aftershocks lasted minutes as you came down from your high, utterly spent, satisfied, content. only then were you able to look back up at sukuna, wrapping your arms around his massive torso.

"never gonna doubt your words again, 'kuna." you spoke quietly, giggling, referring back to when you doubted he was able to do anything with his stomach mouth.

"you still have to fulfill your part." sukuna spoke, looking down at you with all four of his red eyes.

"what part?"

"you said you would 'help me cum after', did you not, woman?"

[ukulelegodparent]

Hey, this is linguistic purism which is a bullshit ideology rooted in nationalism. Loanwords are fine. And while English is certainly currently threatening to replace many languages, none of them are fucking French and the speaker contexts of those languages are much more dire than 'a lot of the speakers of this language use English on the internet a lot and it's bleeding into their regular vocabulary'.

As to the original tags. French has been using loanwords. All the same ones the rest of us have been using. They just happen to use calques BC the Academie Francaise is an organisation that things nationalism is good and should be linguistically expressed through the same means people in the 19th century did. Killing minority languages in the process.

So applauding especially French of all languages for its supposed refusal to use more modern loanwords is not taking a stance against the overbearingness of one language but rather the opposite. Languages should be spoken freely by the communities that speak them. Not controlled by a central organisation. Now exceptions can be made for genuinely endangered languages where speaker numbers are so small that without anyone keeping tabs on it the language is threatened to disappear entirely. But mind you, French is on track to become the language with the most speakers in the world. And again, the Academie Francaise is a racist and nationalist prescriptive organisation that hates linguistic diversity with a passion.

Now, do I think anglocentrism is a little overbearing and we should all strive to diversify our online experiences? Yeah sure. Also I'm European. German even. It's like the Anglosphere for when you've freed yourself from the shackles of the Anglosphere. I am sitting in the proverbial glass house and should therefore be careful about casting stones. But please for the love of god. Linguistic purism isn't the way. The way is to encourage people to speak as weirdly as possible. To be multilingual. To use more loanwords from more languages. To communicate with hands and feet and 100 common internationalisms as god intended. To make their native language(s) and the other languages they speak bleed into anything they have to say.

But not this. We know where the path of linguistic purism leads and if the language is spoken in a context where it is the dominant language amongst local minority language it kills the minority languages. It also kills dialects. And in general is bad for linguistic diversity (again, unless used very carefully and sparingly under supervision from people with descriptivism in their hearts for language revitalisation programs).

And I would never have expected someone with 'linguistics ba' in their description to give such a heartful endorsement of linguistic purism. BC in my linguistics program at the very least they beat that shit out of us on day one before classes had ever even started.

you know english infiltrating other languages due to the internet has become a problem when even the french are doing it

[oceanicwriting]

matilda.

summary: it's your first birthday away from that place you once called home. you were miles away from all the things that hurt you, and although melancholy eats away at you, you knew there was one person who would always be there for you.

pairing(s): theodore nott x fem!reader

a/n: today is my birthday! i always get a little melancholy about it, so here is a story inspired by the song matilda by harry styles.

. . .

ㅤㅤㅤyour hair moves with the mountain breeze, camouflaging itself with the movement of the tall, green undergrowth. you are given over to the embrace of nature, making your heart jump every time it surprises you with birds stopping by your side and tickled by the wind lifting your clothes. the valley before your eyes was beautiful.

ㅤㅤㅤa few meters from where you're sitting is your house, a small cabin that you share with your boyfriend. day to day, you spend growing vegetables, taking care of animals, and building. that whole place had become your most precious possession because it was full of love. the quiet life that you had wanted to have for years.

ㅤㅤㅤtoday was your birthday and, like every now and then, you remember the past stuck in the depths of your soul. there was a time when you surrounded yourself with people who didn't appreciate you, filling your days with hurtful words and actions that marked the life of a little girl. you had been able to bear it, but all wounds must stop hurting one day.

ㅤㅤㅤ—love.

ㅤㅤㅤyou turn around, filling your mind with that theodore nott standing behind you. his shirt is open at the first few buttons, messy at the edge of his baggy pants, and his hair blowing in all directions. a soft smile decorates his lips so familiar to you.

ㅤㅤㅤ—what are you doing here?

ㅤㅤㅤyou pat the floor beside you, inviting him to sit down and say—: i'm... thinking.

ㅤㅤㅤtheodore sits with you, covering the breeze from the side with his wide and well-worked torso.

ㅤㅤㅤ—thinking? —his hand searches for yours, interlacing them and resting on your lap—. thinking about what?

ㅤㅤㅤthe way his hair flies in all directions makes you smile quietly. there was a usual magic in his serene presence that always managed to silence the tornado of disordered thoughts in your head. your free hand can't help but approach his face, caressing the beauty of his well-defined features under the sunset light.

ㅤㅤㅤ—you're thinking about them, right? —he asks, closing his eyes at the feeling of your caresses against his skin—. are you thinking about your family? you know you can tell me anything...

ㅤㅤㅤyou nod, looking in the direction of the valley in front of you.

ㅤㅤㅤ—when my father left, on my tenth birthday, he always said he would come back for me. he never came. —the sour laugh you release into the air feels like a relief—. why would he come back? he would write me saying that something had happened, that something much more important had come up or that something happened with the car. i trusted his words over mom's...

ㅤㅤㅤyour head rests on his shoulder, feeling the tears slowly run down your face and fall to the dry floor.

ㅤㅤㅤ—and we would argue about it right before i went to bed, because i would always be the spitting image of him. i would always be the carbon copy of the person who left her, betrayed her, and hurt her.

ㅤㅤㅤ—it's not your fault that your mother couldn't see that you are also the image of love, sincerity, and honesty —he says, his soft, calm voice embracing the sadness of your soul. he forces you to sit facing his direction, adjusting himself to face you—. the image of a girl who needed more than reproaches.

ㅤㅤㅤtheodore brings his forehead to yours, allowing both of your breaths to mingle. he caresses your cheek, silencing the soft sobs that escape your lips. the boy's caresses on your arm don't hurry you, they just accompany your tears until you stop.

ㅤㅤㅤ—do you know they can't catch you again? —he says. you flutter your eyelashes, and theodore smiles, kissing the bridge of your nose—. i won't let them catch you.

ㅤㅤㅤyou smile, moving closer to leave a peck on his smiling lips. he looks at you, and one of his hands reaches out to your cheekbone to catch a small eyelash that has fallen.

ㅤㅤㅤ—a wish. —he squeezes the eyelash between his thumb and index finger, placing it in front of your eyes—. today, you will make a wish. you will tell me where it is stuck, up or down, and if you get it right, your wish will come true.

ㅤㅤㅤyou raise your eyebrows, laughing and then asking—: what if i’m wrong?

ㅤㅤㅤhis calm gaze shines, telling you that he’s about to tell you a lie.

ㅤㅤㅤ—you’ll tell me your wish, and i’ll make it happen. do you underestimate me?

ㅤㅤㅤtheodore nott had saved you in every way possible. he had taken care of your feelings, peace, home, and happiness in a way that no one had before. he had taken the time necessary to heal all the wounds on your bruised body with such tenderness that your wounds were now war marks.

ㅤㅤㅤ—never.

ㅤㅤㅤ—so? —you connect your eyes with his, without understanding—. come on, ask the universe for your wish.

ㅤㅤㅤand you think about how safe you feel when you wake up with him sleeping carefree next to you. you think about the happiness that runs through your body when you cook side by side in the kitchen where only the two of you fit. you think about all the things you had to give up to be in a place like this. you think about that cabin full of the love you feel, memories, and experiences.

ㅤㅤㅤ—a wish?

ㅤㅤㅤhe nods.

ㅤㅤㅤbut there was no wish because the universe had sent you everything you ever needed in the form of theodore nott. so, instead of making a wish you ask for an answer, you ask the universe to be right if this was what would make you happy for the rest of your life.

ㅤㅤㅤ—ready? —theodore asks, smiling—. up or down?

ㅤㅤㅤ—up.

ㅤㅤㅤhe separates his fingers, and the eyelash comes to rest on top, right in the middle of his index finger. when he orders you to blow, your body lets go with that hair the last worries on your mind.

ㅤㅤㅤyou turn to look at him, noticing how his long eyelashes move over his eyes. it is impossible to hold back your desire to have him close, so you throw yourself at him, hugging him tightly.

ㅤㅤㅤ—what's wrong? —he questions, laughing and returning the hug.

ㅤㅤㅤ—nothing —you say, resting your chin on his chest—. i just appreciate it, love.

ㅤㅤㅤhis smile widens, caressing your back and opening his mouth to answer. nothing manages to leave his lips because the sound of other voices approaching get ahead of him.

ㅤㅤㅤ—there! —lorenzo, one of your friends, shouts, appearing on top of the mountain with the rest of the boys.

ㅤㅤㅤyou look at theodore, who helps you up and leans close to your ear to say—: surprise.

[psychemochanight]

This may sound bad, but there's something I've noticed that bothers some of Nightwing fans, and it's not exactly something new (since Jason's first appearance, actually)-

And for many, as a new batfamily member appears, the writers seem to take away or diminish some quality in Dick to enhance it in another character

Let me explain:

One of the reasons why many people initially disliked Jason (not the only reason, by far), is that they saw him as a copy of Dick, even if they both had their differences, many did not feel that Jason had anything "special" that separated him from Dick.

And for those who say the difference is that Jason was cheerful and Dick wasn't, no, that's a modern thing, and that interpretation was given especially because it was the time when Dick was more "angry" as Discowing; same with those who say that Jason was the only model student, when in fact, Dick was also a star student, there is even a panel where some students dismiss the possibility that he is Robin because Dick was a "bookworm".

That's partly why many applauded the change he made in becoming Red Hood, because it gave the character something that set him apart, that made him unique.

With Tim is when this change that they make to Dick (more the fandom than the writers themselves, but it is growing in them too) was most noticeable, to enhance Tim's qualities.

When talking about Tim (and God knows how much I adore canon Tim, he's so damn cool), people ALWAYS downplay Richard's detective skills to highlight Tim's. To make him look like the only good detective in the family after Batman.

People forget that Dick was originally like a mini-copy of Batman, but he was destined to surpass him. Not just in combat, but in detective skills as well. Before they even thought about a new Robin, there were already hints that Dick was, and would be, better than Batman.

Even with the appearance of other family members, Dick's abilities were still pointed out. I'm not talking about his physical agility, but his mental agility.

Dick was a genius, just like the other members of the family, he was ALWAYS pointed out as someone so intelligent, someone logical. He also has extraordinary skills with technology, He didn't need someone to back him up with hacking issues 24/7, he could do it himself, not always, but most of the time.

Now, what they point out the most is his physical agility and leadership (characteristics that he always had), but they leave aside his other aspects, such as combat ability and above all, his capabilities as a detective, like someone intelligent.

Some even bring up that Ra's called Tim "detective", when in reality he also called Dick that, and I'm pretty sure he also called Jason that at some point.

I want to clarify, that with this I am NOT saying that Tim's skills are inferior, AT ALL. I am one of those who think that Tim was the one who finished polishing Robin's name, the one that gave it a meaning beyond being Batman's sidekick, the one who turned Robin into his own hero. Tim is probably a prodigious detective, but like Dick, he too needed help honing those skills. Damn, it was Dick himself who taught Tim how to be a full-fledged detective.

But seriously, I'm not saying this to put Tim down, but to talk about the need to put Dick down in order to elevate others.

Even with Cass this happened, Cass fans throw away Dick's abilities to bring out Cass's when that is not necessary, like, It is more than possible to highlight the qualities of your favorite characters without putting down the others.

There were even times where people were putting Dick down for Damian, and I honestly didn't even understand why, but aha.

I think you're getting my point across, right?

Again, I am NOT trying to say that ANY character's skills should be nerfed, on the contrary, I feel like people should stop doing that just to level up other characters' abilities.

The fact that Dick is also a prodigious detective does not make Tim any less of a detective ? The fact that he also knows how to handle technology does not make Barbara any less competent at her job ? Just because he's an excellent fighter doesn't make Cass the weakest ???? God, just because he was a light in Batman's life too doesn't make Jason any less of his son!

Partly yes, it was the writers' fault for giving Dick too many abilities from the start, which made it harder for later characters to stand out in their own fields, but, fr, taking away his abilities to getting up the rest is not the solution at this point either.

And as I said, this mostly comes from before there were even other members of the batfamily, Dick's only purpose was to be better than Batman, it wasn't even the plan to be his own person yet. Probably for a while, the plan could even be that the next Batkid would accompany Dick as the next great detective, and then the next batkid would take the mantle and so on, a chain. I'm not saying that's the case, but that's honestly what it seems like from the way their abilities are written, at least before they started really developing them as their own individual person.

Something I love about part of the fandom is that there are people who understand that Dick was an inspiration, so that his younger siblings did not inhibit his abilities, but rather learned from him, and then surpassed him with their owns, just as Dick did with Batman. Idk.

And... Yeah, that's just me complaining about my favorite character being downgraded when he's clearly way more capable than the fandom gives him credit for <3

This is me btw

[mythicmanuscripts]

I can't remember where you said it, but I remember you saying how Aemond likes the deep pressure feeling of you lying on top of him. I was wondering if you could write smth about that?? Like, I personally LOVE having someone lie on me, too. It's like the ultimate weighted blanket! I'd love to hear more thoughts on this, and maybe even with the roles reversed and him lying on you

Absolutely anon!! Absolutely!!

This is mostly just soft and SFW but since it mentions nakedness and some suggestive themes then I'll hide it under a cut just to be safe. Enjoy lads!

This is something I think Aemond would always have liked and sought out even before he fully knew what it was. When he was younger he used to wrap his blanket as tightly around himself as possible. Often that was the only way he could fall asleep.

That's also one of the reasons why he loves traveling with Vhagar so much. She always opens her wing out and stretches it over him while he sleeps, never moving until he wakes up. He always used to sleep so much better while traveling with her, and often he would willingly take longer routes home just to spend an extra night or two like that.

It's not really a desire he fully understood back then. He just knew that the feeling of something heavy or tight around him made him feel so much better, so much safer.

You first discover this a few weeks after you finally start cuddling regularly. One of Aemond's favourite cuddling positions is to lay cuddled up against you, resting his cheek on your chest and bending his legs to rest on top of yours. He especially loves it when you wrap an arm around his shoulder.

But sometimes it seemed like Aemond couldnt relax? He'd constantly be shuffling and nuzzling against you, pulling your arm tighter around him. You ask what he wants and honestly he's not even sure? He just knows he could be closer somehow, and he wants it.

The next time you're laying together, you come to bed after him and he's laying on his back. So you switch places with him and this time it's you cuddled against his chest. He pulls you closer, tighter and buries his nose into your hair, like he can't get you close enough.

You try to change positions and in doing so you accidentally end up nearly on top of him. Before you can even apologise he is already pulling you closer so your weight it on him. You try to get off, telling him that you must be squashing him but he won't hear it. He falls asleep so easily and in the morning when you bring it up all he can say is that he felt secure.

Of course now that you're armed with this information you lay on him much more often, sometimes he even asks for it. Maybe, since we all know how much he loves to be of service, you ask him if he would like to try reading to you while you lay like that?

He sits up against the headboard with you curled up in his lap. You let your body rest over his legs rather than try to avoid it. He loves it, always keeping a hand on your back.

At first he would only read you whatever you had suggested, and never suggested anything himself. But over time as he grows more comfortable with you and begins to show you all the different sides of himself, then he starts to read you history books? It becomes one of his favourite things to do.

I also think he would love that sort of pressure when not in the bedroom as well? Obviously far more toned down.

If you two are watching Aegon hold court then you tend to stand off to the side with Aemond. He leans against the wall and then pulls you closer, holding you against him and letting him hold up some of your weight. He wraps one of his arms around your waist and will often rest his head on your shoulder (especially because he can whisper things to you about how boring this is and how Aegon made the wrong decision and all his other complaints.)

[vacz]

I present to you my idea of a alternative bad ending for Wirt...

THE HUNTER

Instead of Beast!Wirt is Woodsman!wirt

After accepting the deal with the Beast, Wirt became the new lantern barer in hopes to keep Greg alive. He took the job to cut down the ellewoods and make them oil to feed the lantern so Greg's soul would never turn off, exactly what the woodsman used to do with his daughter. But as different from the woodsman, Wirt does know where the ellewoods truly came from, so the Beast has decided to take advantage of it and included him a little bit more into his chase for new victims. Now having Wirt helping the Beast to guide lost souls to the wrong path, it has become so much easier for the Beast to trap new souls

Wirt's role was this for a time: Becoming the new woodsman and finding lost kids to give them wrong directions or ideas. Despise how much he refused in the beginning, soon the Beast made him understand that this was the price for his mistakes, unless he wanted to Greg pay the price instead...

Until one night, Wirt had to confront a travel soul. A boy like him, wanting to save his little brother from the cruel breaches of the tree growing on his helpless body, and finally leave the woods with him, like Wirt himself once did. However, the Beast pressured and demanded him to take action himself, but unlike the old woodsman, Wirt did cut the boy down.

And since that incident, Wirt now has a new task to commit every time a new soul enters into the unknown.

He could barely sleep at night before, now he can't sleep at all. Wirt has stopped taking care of himself, at least he washes his hair and clothes once in a time but time itself seems so uselessly long for him until the point that things don't seem to matter anymore, nothing matters for Wirt, not even himself and his feelings... except keeping the lantern lit

The Beast knows better than anyone that Wirt's mind has become so weak until the point that he can't even survive by himself. He had succeeded in destroying this boy whole identity, only leaving a white paper to work on, so now he tries mold Wirt according his own twisted needs. Ironically, thanks to the Beast's influence, Wirt remembers the reason why he has to keep going with this but also he slowly starts to see people in a similar way that the beast's twisted perception does; trees to feed the lantern, not ready to burn yet but they must be prepared.

It's not surprising how much he has given up to the Beast. But unlike him, Wirt doesn't like to "play" or manipulate their victims, because he doesn't want to know them at all. Wirt already knows how these people will end, and he doesn't want to feel worse than he feels now, so he mostly tries to make his interactions shorter or cut them down directly, the quicker the easier it is for him to adopt this 'human dissociation' mentally

Of course, when he chooses violence, people tend to run rather than do what he plead, so he has to chase after them. Running after someone is exhausting for Wirt because he isn't that athletic in that aspect, and it's frustrating when he can't reach them. There are times when they manage to escape and some others that they don't

Wirt hates running after them, because it makes the situation more torturous and he gets exhausted. But if they don't start running, he is the one who tells them to do so. He doesn't understand very well why he does this but he likes to think that is a way to give them a chance to escape so he doesn't have to be the one to end with them, after all Wirt wants to believe that he is not evil

And yet, at the same time Wirt finds some kind of satisfaction on it... He is scared of what he is becoming.

Of course, he has this little duality inside his brain. The Beast has done a good job to keep Wirt in his role but still that doesn't make Wirt's guilt disappear at all

At least, his guilt has been manifested into a voice, represented by the rock fact. Even if the rock fact was meant for Greg to make silly but un-true facts, Wirt's interpretation of his own rock facts are the cruelest truths he refuses to believe. The rock fact represents that honest and logical part of him that is still there, under the tone of the self hate Wirt has grown on himself.

Of course, when he is around people for a longer period than he feels he should, Wirt stops trying to act normal and let himself to act a little... dramatic, in hopes to scare them or "prepare" himself mentally to go and chase them down with the axe

For this, he likes to use the rock fact. He always keeps it in his hair and uses it to try to re-create a rock fact like the ones Greg used to make, but instead of charming or adorable he looks insane, and he already knows that. Of course, he tries to re-create them seriously when he is alone but still fails miserably

Wirt does this in a poor intent to feel in touch with Greg, even tho they usually talk a lot with each other

Jason Funderberker has been gone for a long time by now, so the Beast is the only company Wirt has left, but most of the time he is alone.

He doesn't devout that his brother is there anymore, after all, Now Wirt can hear Greg's voice coming out of the lantern so what would be a better proof than that?. Greg is the only person left who seems to not hate him or is scared of him, the little ray of sunshine in his poor cruel life. If you tell him otherwise, Wirt won't want to believe you, even if deep down somehow, someway no matter how delusional he may be... He knows is true

Of course, I wouldn't recommend saying this because after having a nervous breakdown he will absolutely go after you with all pure rage.

Now here are some questions and its explanations:

Where does this idea come from?

Where does the name "The Hunter' come from?

What's Wirt and The Beast's relationship?

Wirt, The Woodsman, The Hunter and The Beast

Where does this idea come from?

It's no surprise that it comes from the idea of a bad ending for Wirt, one that is more fitting with the logic of the series. Because let's be real;

If he accepted the deal he wouldn't turn into the new beast because The Beast's motivation was to survive, he doesn't seem to want a replacement or transpass the role to anyone. In that case he would have already done it with The Woodsman.

The unknown was completely fine with the Beast gone so is not that he is THAT important for the forest to need a replacement.

Also, remember this little scene? it's from chapter 1: The Old Grist Mill. When Wirt and Greg just entered the unknown and suddenly heard the Woodsman cutting wood, before talking to him, Wirt said:

"Do you think it's some kind of deranged lunatic with an axe waiting out there in the darkness for innocent victims?"

So I thought; What if in the bad ending... He became that deranged lunatic?

Where does the name "The Hunter" come from"?

In the concept:

Since there are times when Wirt's victims escape, those who survived spread the word of a maniac who is wandering around the woods, looking for new victims, and once he finds them he will chase them until he can cut them down to the bone with his axe

They named him "The Hunter"

Wirt knows about his new reputation, since the travelers call him that once he reveals his real intentions, but he isn't really aware of all the rumors and stories people of the unknown had made about him, he knows that he will not like them but at the same time he is very curious about it. Some of them are true and others are just exaggerating. But at this point, Wirt Hunter had accepted that now he is one of the particular characters of the unknown.

In technical explanation:

In Over The Garden Wall we saw that most of the characters are named by "the what" for example: The Beast and The woodsman, they had no name by their own outside of their archetype. So I thought that in Wirt's case he would have a name like that, losing his own as a representation of how he has lost his own original identity. Wirt is no longer "the worthy one" anymore because he is more lost than the woodsman ever was, and there is no chance to bring him back, so he became "The Hunter" for the unique faction that makes himself distinguish from The Woodsman: The killing

The woodsman is just a man who lives in the woods and cuts trees, it just happens that the Beast used one to keep the lantern on. However.... The Hunter is someone that hunts, the whole point of a hunter is that he chases living beings and strap them, mostly for need. That is something The Beast himself does in his own way, which makes Wirt and The Beast more similar and unionite than the previous dynamic with The Woodsman, or even I dare say they are just alike; The Creature and The Man who hunts for surviving

Also, more into Bad End Friend's territory; Every evil alternate version has their own unique name, for example the icon trio, Bipper and Ice Finn (Also officially named "The Snowman") but then we have just "Beast Wirt" and until now NOBODY has come up with an actual name that fits him. I remember that someone already suggested the name "The Hunter" for Beast Wirt but it didn't make much sense (At least to me). However, in a woodsman context I think it could work better.

What's Wirt and Beast's relationship?

In Wirt's perspective

Basically a case of Stockholm Syndrome: At first he felt more like a prisoner, The Beast was a figure who he should follow if he wants to keep Greg alive, he is more than Wirt and his power overcomes his young self. However as the time passed, Wirt realized that the Beast can also be very merciful and at the same time rightfully ruthless as his monstrous nature allows him, as he has 'shown' him acts of trust. For Wirt, The Beast is a dark but fair being, not as evil as everyone told. The Beast acts similarly like a father would do towards Wirt, but without that human openly caring love. He is strict and cold, but is for Wirt and Greg's own good

In Beast's perspective:

Wirt is nothing but an interesting experiment. The Beast has been manipulating every little detail of Wirt's surroundings, so he decides to obey him by own choice, which worked out way better than expected. He has seen Wirt changing to fit into his needs, becoming more useful and useful than last time. Anytime the Beast has thought he reached the limit, Wirt proves him wrong and finds a way to pass it and go on anyway. His determination is so fascinating to the Beast that he continues to see how far he could go

Their dynamic:

Naive teen being manipulated by his father figure to be useful for his plans or desires (but even more mess up)

Examples of this kind of dynamic are Rapunzel and Mother Gothel from Tangled (2010) or Hunter and Belos from The Owl House (2020)

Wirt has been alone for so long to the point that he holds tightly to anything that could give him a minimum sign of love, and The Beast knows that more than anyone

He has taken advantage of this, so by convincing Wirt to isolate himself and showing barely love, Hunter would listen and obey him without any doubt. It doesn't matter if The Beast is the main responsible for his situation, things have been twisted so much to that point that Wirt fully believes that this is all his fault. He must do the right thing at any cost, after all, he would do anything for the ones he loves right Gregory?

Wirt, The Woodsman, The Hunter and The Beast

These are the four identities Wirt adopts in the time on the unknown, like states of his sanity slowly decaying

Wirt

The anxious teen we all know and love, the guy he has been during his journey until the point where he faced the Beast face to face

The Woodsman

Wirt post-deal

At first:

He doubts that Greg may be in the lantern, and now he regrets his decision. However he doesn't know what to do now because the guilt for Greg will not leave him in peace, and so Wirt feels like he doesn't deserve to go home, he can't go back, no without Greg. So he still lives in the forest, feeding the lantern and hearing the Beast's words, however The Beast insists that Greg is indeed in the lantern, but Wirt isn't sure whether to believe him or not

Even if Wirt knows he needs the ellewood, like the woodsman, he tries to help and warns about the Beast to those who came into the unknown

The Beast warned him about helping people, but he didn't listen to him until one night. There was an incident where he almost lost Greg's light forever for the lack of ellewood. Since then, Wirt finally cooperates with the Beast

At last:

Wirt knows what he must do. He misguides those who pass through the way in forms to get enough ellewood for Greg, always making sure to keep himself distance and not get too close with them. However there are times where he can't NOT sympathize with the travelers and so he offers his genuine help

The Beast wasn't comfortable knowing that Wirt still kept helping people.

The Hunter

Wirt post-murder

At first:

After his first kill, Wirt felt so guilty that he stopped taking care of his health (He stopped eating, bathing, and stuff) and encaged himself inside the house with all the bottles of oil, fearing that he would hurt someone again

At this time Wirt started to hear the voices of Greg, the rock and the crying of the lost souls, and talk to them until he ran out of oil

When he finally went outside, his body was too weak to even walk and he fell on the grass unconsciously. At that moment the Beast thought Wirt died and so he was about to take off the lantern, but the boy's hands wouldn't stop grabbing it with all the fury. The Beast kept trying until suddenly Wirt woke up and said to him that as long as his brother needs him he would be still here. For his stupid unbreakable determination, the beast didn't see any other option but to take care of the kid

As he recovered, The Beast started to convince him of the idea of taking people as nothing but ellewoods he needs. Wirt didn't like it at first, but the Beast's kind act and the poor health state he put himself into finally made him accept the new task.

At last (actual state):

Most of the time he is alone, searching around the forest for more ellewood to feed Greg with, day and night. He doesn't fully sleep, he takes naps in the afternoon so he can be wake up all night as he wants. To eat he hunts animals, fish, rabbits and some other birds or frogs, whatever living being he finds. To entertain himself he recites poetry and sings songs that the Beast has taught him, all loud like someone would listen to him. At home he writes his poems and composes his own music, mostly for clarinet.

At times the voices are louder and other times they are quiet. If it's Greg then it would be a nice time, if it's the rock fact it's a guarantee he would be at least pissed off, and if it is the distant crying of the lost souls then paranoid it is.

When someone crosses his way, it depends on how things are going to see how things will end. When he just indicates the direction you'll better leave as soon as you can, because the longer you stay and talk to him Wirt will act weirder in hopes for you to leave him alone, otherwise, if you cross the line with your words, he probably will run out of patience and starts to prepare the axe

But it also depends on how likeable he finds you. He could not care and warned you before he attacks you as usual, he could hate you so much to the point that he attacks you with no warning, he could like you and give you five seconds of advantage, and if he likes you a little bit more he would become obsessed with you and will maintain you inside his house so the Beast will not know about your existence as long you don't go outside

The Beast

The Beast (According to the Woodsman's words) is the death of all hope. How low would you have to go so you lost your whole humanity to become the living embodiment of one of the darkness concepts in human kind?

If Wirt ever became the Beast, he should have been falling in grace until the lowest point a person could go. So in my idea of The Hunter, I like to imagine that the differences between The Beast and Wirt would slowly fade away until they are one in the same

Inside The Hunter, Wirt has not only become lost in life but he has also lost his identity, his spirit, his desires and his home. The one thing left to lose is his humanity... His soul

The only thing that separates him from The Beast, is him holding on to the last piece of humanity he has left; Greg

Day after day his sanity is drifting away, but it's because of Greg's existence that he is connected with his humanity, because his actions are meant for Greg's surviving, not his

If Wirt descends to absolute madness and forgets completely about Greg but also openly enjoys his cruelest actions, to the Unknown's eyes, he would no longer be worthy of humanity, and as a punishment he would be cursed to be the successor of the Beast

And becoming worse.

Like I have been having this idea in my mind for a while now and I wanted to share it. I hope you liked my idea and the drawings I made because it really took me a lot of time trying to finish this post because you know... Christmas and happy new year (ah yes, what a happy post to show in these lovely times, yeah!)

SO WHAT YOU THINK?

[cosmowgyral]

Falling into Sin with the Black Tiger ~ Gilbert's 4th Birthday

▪︎ Chapter 1

This is a fan translation so please don't expect it to be 100% accurate. Creative liberties have been taken. All content belongs to Cybird. Reblogs are appreciated. Hope you enjoy!

CW- smut, mentions of blood

As the end of the year approached, a significant day was about to arrive.

Gilbert: What do I want to do?

Emma: That’s right. Can you please tell me anything?

I was sitting on my knees on the bed, wiping Gilbert’s hair with linen after his bath.

I wanted to give the impression that I was only casually probing….at least that’s what I thought.

Gilbert: Hehe, you’re a man of your word, that’s impressive, isn’t it?

Gilbert: You’re celebrating me again this year.

(I was found out in an instant.)

Emma: I promised you last year.

----*flashback*----

Emma: I’ll definitely celebrate with you again next year.

Gilbert: Hehe, I get it. As long as you’re you, I’ll celebrate.

----*flashback ends*----

Emma: I think it’s going to be an annual event from now on.

Gilbert: Ahaha, I never thought you would say something like that after I came home covered in blood.

(….I guess it wasn’t just my imagination after all.)

A little while ago, when Gilbert returned, he smelled of blood and gunpowder.

There were no visible bloodstains because his clothes were all black, but that couldn’t fool my nose, which has become capable of detecting such ominous scents.

(Gilbert always warns me.)

(So I don’t commit a sin unconsciously.)

Emma: …I always think about it.

Emma: Every time you come home covered in blood, I feel glad that you are safe.

Emma: ….I think about that before I even start thinking about whose blood you shed.

(Controlling evil with evil. I understand that this is Prince Gilbert’s way….)

(And yet, I pray every single day for his safety.)

Gilbert: Hehe, sorry. I was being mean again. I was just happy to be celebrated by you.

Gilbert, who had been facing forward, turned around and kissed me lightly on my cheeks.

Gilbert: I won’t say it again.

Gilbert: But I think asking me about what I want to do is stupid.

Gilbert: I love you a lot, so just being able to be with you like this fulfills most of my wishes.

Emma: Please be more greedy and villainous.

Gilbert: Am I not greedy enough?

Emma: It’s not enough at all. I want you to wish for something that’s different than usual since it’s a special day.

Gilbert: ..mmmm…

Gilbert: ….I feel like I’m facing the biggest challenge of my life.

(Is it that much!?)

Gilbert, while groaning as if in deep thought, wraps his hand around my head and gently pulls me closer.

He playfully pecks my lips several times, and before I knew it, I was pushed down onto the bed.

(…..Huh?)

Gilbert: What’s wrong?

Even though his words sound thoughtful, Gilbert pulls down my negligee and kisses my exposed skin, and I don’t get an answer to my question.

Emma: A..are you really thinking about it?

Gilbert: I am thinking about it. I am thinking about it harder than ever.

Gilbert: Are you questioning my sincerity, little rabbit? That’s cruel.

Gilbert smiles as he gently bites my collarbone. My breasts are played with by the tip of his tongue, and my hot and sweet breaths, melt away.

Gilbert: What do I really want?

(Maybe Gilbert isn’t used to these kind of things.)

When I touch his slightly damp hair, he snuggles up to me, like he wants to be petted.

I get carried away and ruffle his hair, and then our lips meet again.

(…Let’s wait patiently.)

(There’s still a lot of things to do for the day.)

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ㅤ𔘓 ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

In Obsidian, which is known as the land of minerals, gems can be found all over the city.

There seems to be a particularly strong sales campaign going on before Christmas, with special stalls lined up before the stores.

In Rhodolite, gemstones are something that only the aristocratic people have access to. But here, they are familiar to all the people, regardless of their social status.

(This is troublesome….)

(I wanted to give Gilbert some stones, but with this many varieties it is difficult.)

To Gilbert, who is a member of the royal family, jewels are not valuable at all.

However, he had told me about it some time back, on my birthday.

In Obsidian, it is customary to gift jewels on special occasions. The more loved you are, the more jewels you’ll have around you in your final moments.

(I’m the only one who can gift a jewel to Gilbert.)

(I’ve decided that I will definitely give this to him, regardless of his wishes.)

(…..I did decide that but…..)

Sapphires, topaz, diamonds, rubies, emeralds….

Even when I look at these beautiful gemstones, I can’t find anything I associate with Gilbert.

(Rather than worrying about it alone, I should ask an expert. Maybe they can give me some advice.)

Emma: Excuse me. I’m looking for a birthday gift and I want to know what’s popular right now.

Jeweller: Oh, in that case----

Jeweller: ….ngh…

(……)

(….I’ve gotten used to this reaction.)

The pale eyes of the jeweller stare deep into mine.

He might be sensing an unusual murderous intent.

Emma: …..I’m sorry. I’ll think about it myself.

I quickly left the store and went down an unseen ally.

Emma: Gil, are you there?

Gilbert: Ahaha, I was found right away.

[Masterlist] [Chapter 2]

[tulippanes]

𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐆𝐎 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐘

t. shoto x reader

. ݁₊ ⊹⁀ word count: 653 . ݁₊ ⊹⁀ warnings: N/A . ݁₊ ⊹⁀ type: Lucy and Schroeder dynamic (literally), maybe ooc, reader's gender unspecified, 3rd year Shoto

Upon entering the music room, Shoto didn’t expect anything less than to see you sitting on the opposite end of the piano. You were doing homework, back facing him and hunched over. He can hear you scribbling on the paper atop the binder placed on your lap. “You’re here early,” he mutters. He watches you instantly perk up and turn in your seat to face him.

“I’d say you’re the one who’s late today,” you tease before turning back around. He goes to sit on the piano stool while you place your papers back in your binder and shove said binder inside your bag. He raises a brow at this.

“Shouldn’t you finish that before putting it away?”

“How could I when I would much rather look at you?” He sighs and rolls his eyes at your compliment, causing you to snicker in response. He should’ve known you would’ve said something along those lines. It’s become a routine, for you to pull up a chair and sit on the opposite side of his piano to watch him play. He’s told you many times to quit leaning on it, claiming that it disrupts him. It doesn’t really and he thinks you see through him since you continue to do so anyway. Though extremely reluctant to admit, he’s gotten used to you being here. Maybe even to say he finds comfort in your presence.

Ugh, look at you putting such sappy ideas into his head. It’s got him even feeling all fuzzy inside much to his dismay. He lifts open the fallboard to reveal the piano keys. His heterochromia eyes glancing up at you, seeing your elbows propped atop the piano lid with your chin resting in your hands. Your eyes meet his for a second and he quickly looks away. Another sigh escapes his lips before his fingers dance across the ivory keys. A melody flows through the air of the small room. He can sense your gaze, watching him. The feeling is likely the most difficult thing he had to get used to.

Mostly due to the fact that at times, you utter statements that make him mess up.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have pretty eyes, Shoto?” you ask. Shoto’s fingers accidentally press the wrong key and he flinches at the off tune noise. Truly, you are the utmost distracting. “Musicians get unnerved whenever you tell them they have pretty eyes,” you state as you lean back in your seat to look up at the ceiling. His cheeks heat up, visibly turning pink.

He runs a hand over his face and quietly curses under his breath. You look over at him only to then sit right up. “Is that a blush I see?” you playfully state. Of course you catch him red handed.

“What are nonsense are you talking about now? Either stop being ridiculous or leave,” he hisses. That bright, cheeky smile that appears on your lips has his heart racing more than he’d like.

You tilt your head to the side, “You totally are!” He then suddenly slams his fingers down on all keys which causes you jolt to the loud sound. You blink repeatedly at him. Did your teasing really make him that irritated? The answer is no, it did not. He simply refuses to have you believe that you’d made him feel embarrassed.

“Don’t you have homework to do? Finish that,” he says sternly with narrowed eyes.

“…Will you help me with it?” Your question is ignored as he continues playing where he left off before having messed up. The soft tune returns to echo throughout the music room. Well, there’s your answer. You grumble, leaning against the piano once more. “You musicians consistently seem to have tempers,” you state with a huff.

[fairfoxie]

That's exactly it; rules need context!! I like the way you've expanded upon the context in which the rules would make sense.

I've had a lot more thoughts about this since I originally posted it, so uh, prepare for some tangents.

I like allegories to online safety in the sense that it really is up to your own discernment to tell the difference between a nasty trick and a genuine offering of peace and friendship, in the same way you would between a sketchy email and a real job offer. Both come down to a moment of "does this feel right? Or does this feel off?"

As for entering the circle. In material reality I have watched people step in and out of circles and nothing happens, because it's bold of people to assume that the circle was even activated in the first place. Internet safety isn't all that relevant if you don't know how to turn on the computer. I think it would be a rare kind of human who could step into a circle in the right state of mind to be able to activate it themself or even just access the otherworld from the material plane. Otherwise people getting lost through portals would be a more common issue.

Some people spend their whole lives trying to contact the Fae and just never get through to them. It takes a lot of psychic tuning to even get to a point where any rules would become relevant. Again, you have to turn on the computer and open your browser before internet safety needs to matter.

I will openly admit this; my connection to Faerie is weak and I often lose it for a time. I have lost my belief before. In those times I have no connection at all; I am sleeping internally and operating by the rules put before me by humans. And even now with restored belief and strong community, I find the hammer of doubt to be more effective against any kind of entity out there than any iron talisman. By closing one's mind to even the possibility of an entity, one severely limits the power it holds against them on the material plane, no matter how real it is.

Sarah only escapes the Labyrinth when she remembers that Jareth holds no real power over her except that which she gives him. At this point the whole underground world vanishes and Sarah is safe back at home again. What's more, she can still call upon her goblin friends when she needs them.

Think too of The Last Unicorn, who was viewed as a horse by most people, to the extent that Mommy Fortuna had to use her illusions to make people see a false Unicorn, right where the real Unicorn stood. It takes a certain way of seeing the world to even get close to seeing things for what they are.

And hey, maybe the Fae would pose just as much of a danger to someone who doesn't believe in them. That person still only needs fear what they understand. If two people are struck by lightning, only the one who believed in God was being struck by God, the other was a victim of chance.

Anyway I'm rambling and not sure if this makes sense. But it was fun to write. We are all on our own journeys.

Anyone else get annoyed at faery etiquette guides like this that only cover what you don't do? I feel like it contributes to the fearmongering that elemental spirits are all jumping at the chance to scorn and enslave you and it's simply not true. What's the point of making a guide to interacting with the Fae if all you're gonna say is don't do this or this or this like okay but what do you do???

I've always had better luck with taking my cue from nature. The wind will show you where to go. The birds will guide your senses if you listen. If you see an interesting stump or tree compliment it. Most common tree spirits are close to humans and actually like to be thanked and appreciated. Listening is often more important than looking. A genuine smile goes a long way. If you get a trick played on you, laugh it off, it's all in good fun. Faeries appreciate a good sense of humour, childlike wonder, and carefree singing. Let them approach you rather than approaching them. If you close your eyes and rest for a moment, you will hear the whole forest breathe, and feel more connected to Spirit than ever. And as for what you shouldn't do, don't bring your phone! It interrupts your aura and makes you appear more threatening.

THESE are the things I had to learn on my own that have actually been helpful on my journey. I hope they help you too.

[cognitiveoverload]

Bambi (Spencer Reid x reader)

summary: You joined the BAU to prepare for an upcoming role, but your time with the team gives you a new career path and a new lover.

note: It's short, but that's how far I wanted to take this now. Takes place before 11x01.

“Special Agent Bambi stole my coffee 😩”

This is a message meant for your best friend, but Derek sadly leans over your shoulder just in time to catch it. You only notice when you hear his laughter in your ear, and soon you see him sitting on the edge of the desk in front of you. “I saw Spencer with a cup of coffee that had your name on it. Oh, if only someone told him you called him Bambi,” he says with a teasing grin.

Mortified, you open your mouth to protest, or rather to beg him to keep this to himself, but no word leaves your throat. Maybe a deal could work, maybe you could offer something he wants, and considering he mentioned his girlfriend loves your work, that could be the key to your secret’s safety. So, with a sweet smile, you put your phone on the desk and fold your arms as you look at him.

Derek instinctively mirrors your movement, watching you with a slightly raised eyebrow. “I’ll take you and Savannah to a fancy restaurant on an evening that’s good for the both of you, and she can join me on the first days of shooting when we finally get there,” you offer. 

“All of this to stop me from telling the kid?” When you nod, he lets out a thoughtful hum. “Damn it, you know that’s an offer I can’t turn down. I’ll keep your secret.”

“What secret?” 

You see as the agent in front of you whistles quietly, then walks past you as if there was nothing to see. The question came from Penelope, who stands right next to the very man you’ve exchanged a few words about. At first, you open your mouth to respond, but then you realize there’s no way you could improvise without being busted by them. Telling part of the truth could be useful, though.

So, without much hesitation, you put an award-winning smile on your face and point in the direction where Derek went. “I invited Savannah to the set of the movie,” you explain. You quickly realize there has to be a continuation for this sentence, otherwise you would have to start explaining yourself. “I was thinking about a girls’ weekend if you’re in too.”

Penelope claps her hands in excitement as she looks at Spencer. “I might not even return to you,” she jokes with a wide smile. “It’s so exciting, of course I’m in!” 

When she hugs you, you immediately become enveloped in that warm aura of hers, the one everyone on the team mentioned after you arrived. You’ve only been with the team for three weeks in preparation for a new role, but surprisingly, they all welcomed you kindly despite being short of a few people, and even among them, Penelope was the one who grew the closest to you in a matter of days.

While each and every one of them became important to you for a different reason, it’s Spencer you can’t quite place anywhere. He’s so different from the guys you are used to, and you can’t decide if this oddity is the reason why you don’t know what to think about him. A part of you thinks he’s an adorable dork, which brings out your protective side, while another believes he’s charming and handsome, the kind of guy you want to do certain things with behind closed doors. 

You’re like a Victorian man when he sees a woman’s ankle, you can’t help yourself when he’s around. It’s hard to recall the last time you were so desperate for someone’s attention, maybe it was back in high school, but you’re not sure. 

Behind her, Spencer takes a sip of coffee from the paper cup, and your eyes meet as you let go of Penelope and take a step back. He doesn’t say anything, and the silence is deafening, but you wait, secretly hoping he would change his mind and tell you something, even if it’s nothing more than some random fact about movies. But he remains silent, and eventually he moves to sit behind his desk without sparing you a second look.

Penelope also leaves, and since you don’t have paperwork to do like the others, you pull out the book that’s part of your curriculum and continue reading it, highlighting the pages where you find interesting details with a narrow post-it. It was Spencer and Dave who wrote you a list of books you could learn a lot from, and they both promised to talk with you about them once you finished reading them.

You have no idea how much time passed exactly, but your quiet reading session is interrupted by the announcement that there’s a new case and briefing starts now in the conference room. You pick up your phone and head after the rest of the team, sitting in the back as usual to be out of the way, but to your surprise, Spencer decides to sit next to you this time. When you turn to him with a surprised look, he flashes a smile at you, then takes another sip of the coffee cup with your name visible to you.

As most cases they work on, these were also gruesome murders, and the more details you hear, the harder you grip your thighs to bear it. But then you feel a hand cover yours, slowly but confidently lacing your fingers. You know whose hand it is, yet you don’t dare to look his way, you don’t feel like taking his attention away from the case that’s being presented. He joins the conversation every now and then, but whenever there’s a break, you can feel his eyes on you.

The team’s dismissed, and you’re heading to the plane that takes off half an hour later. The plane where Spencer once again opts to sit next to you, although this time he finally talks to you. “It gets better with time,” he notes quietly, flashing a small smile at you. You return it, but before you can say anything, he goes on. “I know that you were asking about joining the academy to become one of us.”

The surprised look you give him is followed by a groan. “Penelope?” you wonder, and he nods in response. “It’s just… I love acting, don’t get me wrong, but this would actually mean something, you know?” 

“But are you ready to work on such cases every day?”

You lean your head back as you consider what to say to that. The idea of joining the FBI came to you a week ago, after you entered the rented apartment you stayed in following an emotionally tough case. At first, you briefly considered quitting this little crash-course before it could leave a permanent scar on you, but then you realized that at the end of the day, it was all about saving lives. And this made you wonder if there was anything acting helped you achieve aside from promoting good causes. 

Preaching about the importance of fighting for the environment, or children’s rights didn’t mean people would actually do something too. But a job at the FBI? That would have results. You could put bad guys behind bars, even if it wouldn’t be so cheerful all the time. Considering you were in your late twenties, maybe you still had enough time to make such a big career change. 

With a sigh, you turn your head to look at him. “You said it yourself, it gets better with time,” you reply, but a doubtful look crosses his face. “Look, I know it sounds crazy, but I want to see if I would be good enough,” you tell him. 

Spencer turns in his seat, watching you with a barely visible smile at first. “You’ll need an intensive course,” he points out as he reaches out, once again lacing your fingers. “How about this? We meet outside of work and go through some old cases. I’ll teach you everything you need to know about profiling.”

“Are you sure? I’m sure you need your free time, I wouldn’t want you to–” But he doesn’t let you finish, instead he ignores the curious eyes watching the two of you and leans in to give you a soft kiss. “Oh,” you say when he pulls back. 

“You don’t even notice how many times you stare at me, do you?” he asks with a teasing smile, his hand moving to your cheek. “And please, don’t call me Bambi behind my back.”

With wide eyes, you stand up and turn around to find a certain member of the team that’s gonna be kicked in the ass for sure. “Derek, god dammit!” you yell, but before you could go there to confront him, Spencer takes your hand and gently pulls you back into the seat. You flash an apologetic smile at him, then rest your head on his shoulder as you think about how things would be for the two of you now.

Maybe with him on your side, it will be easier to handle these cases. 

[keanusbabydoll]

If you're taking requests, how about a daryl x reader with him hunting you through the woods. Y'know, the classic predator/prey thing. Maybe when he catches you, he uses his knife on you. Not to like seriously hurt the reader, but he knows she thinks he looks hot using a knife. Feel free to not write this if It makes you uncomfortable, though.

HIS PREY

a/n: anything for you guys!! i looove this one.<3

paring: daryl dixon x fem! reader

warnings: 18+ content, p in v, unprotected p in v, rough sex, dom!daryl, slight knife play, knife kink, daddy kink, age gap, fingering, slight edging, slight spanking, degrading, praising

wordcount: 2.2k

MDNI

⋆𐙚 ₊ ° ⊹ ♡ ⋆𐙚 ₊ ° ⊹ ♡ ⋆𐙚 ₊ ° ⊹ ♡ ⋆𐙚 ₊ ° ⊹ ♡ ⋆𐙚 ₊ ° ⊹ ♡

it was a crisp morning when rick approached you and daryl, suggesting the two of you head out to scout for food. the group needed supplies, and he knew that daryl was the best hunter in the group—and that you, after months of being together, had become a skilled tracker in your own right.

it wasn’t the first time you were out alone and let’s say you were more than just excited.

being alone on a scavenger hunt with daryl always ended up with you getting your brains fucked out against a tree. and you couldn’t get enough of it. there would be no annoying rick or michonne who constantly interrupt you or ask daryl to guard at the gates. there, it was just the two of you.

as soon as you stepped into the woods the calming scent of damp earth and pine needles filled your nose. you looked to your right and found daryl adjusting his crossbow, his sharp blue eyes scanning the area for any walkers. hell, only the sight of him made you drool and hold yourself back to not jump on him. the way his muscles flexed and his shirt hugged his trained form so perfectly.

you needed him dearly, the forming wet spot in your panties only prove of it. and you definitely knew how to get what you want.

just as daryl seemed to have prepared everything you glanced over your shoulder with a smirk, arms folded over your chest. “you know daryl,” you teased, “if i wanted to hide out here, you’d never find me.”

he snorted softly, not looking at you. “that so?” you took a step closer, leaning into his space. “you’re good, dixon. but not that good. you’d be wandering around these woods all night.”

now you got his attention.

daryl’s lips twitched into a faint smirk as he finally turned to look at you, his eyes narrowing like he was already sizing you up.

underestimating daryl’s abilities? bad idea.

“you’re talkin’ a lotta shit for someone i could catch in under five minutes.” he stated, your words definitely affecting him. “prove it.” you challenged, your voice low and teasing. you could already feel your heart racing at what would happen next.

for a moment, he just stared at you, the weight of his predatory gaze making your breath hitch. then, without a word, he reached out and gripped your upper arm firmly, his expression shifting into something darker. “you better run, girl. clock’s tickin’.” your heart skipped a beat as soon as the words left his mouth and for a second, you hesitated, but the glint in his eyes told you he wasn’t kidding.

and you were fucking in for it.

you turned on your heels and bolted into the woods, the adrenaline kicking in almost instantly. the forest felt alive as you weaved through the trees and your heart pounded in your chest, a mix of excitement and something far more primal.

you eventually found a spot—a large tree covered in ivy. its wide trunk provided the perfect hiding place. carefully, to not make any sound, you knelt down and pressed your back against it, trying to catch your breath. you knew daryl well enough to know that he’d take his time, moving silently, stalking you like his prey. the thought of it sent shivers down your spine.

but honestly, you would’ve loved to hide somewhere really obvious only for him to find you after a minute. that’s how much you fucking craved this man. but then again, you knew that he would remind you forever that you were hiding this poorly. and the thrill of not knowing when he’d find you, got you even more excited.

the forest was eerily quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. but then, you heard it—a soft, deliberate footstep. your breath caught in your throat. he was close.

you leaned ever so slightly to peek around the tree, scanning the woods for any sign of him. nothing.

you let out a quiet sigh of relief, relaxing back against the tree.

big mistake.

in a flash, a strong hand gripped your arm, yanking you to your feet. you barely had time to yelp before your back was slammed against the rough bark of the tree harshly. daryl loomed over you, his chest heaving from the exertion of the chase, his piercing eyes locking into yours. without you even fully realizing it, he held his sharp knife against your throat— not enough to hurt you but still to show you who’s in charge.

“thought ya could hide from me, huh?” his voice was low and gravelly, dripping with dominance. your eyes drifted down to the blade against your throat, your heartbeat quickening. “guess i was wrong.” you whispered, finding his gaze again.

“stupid lil’ thing.” he murmured as he began to trace the tip of the blade along your jawline, down your throat and to your exposed collarbone— leaving soft white lines. you tried to stifle a moan but the undeniable tension and daryl’s dominance made this impossible.

and he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

given the fact how pathetically you were rubbing your thighs together to gain just a tiny bit of friction. “you’re such a lil’ slut, doll.” he growled as he let the knife wander down to your tits, his eyes following it closely. “only for you, daddy.” you quietly whimpered, batting your eyelashes at him.

“yeah?” he amusingly huffed out before he captured your lips in a heated kiss— rough and demanding. his free hand gripped your waist to pull you closer as you moaned into the kiss as you felt his hard cock pressing against your lower belly.

he ached for you just as much as you ached for him.

his blade once again nestled on your throat, this time pressing a little harder, knowing it would rile you up even more.

he pushed his tongue past your lips, claiming you as his as he devoured your sweet taste. your tongues fought for dominance but daryl obviously took the lead, not letting you win this battle. the hand that lingered on your waist now grabbed one of your tits, squeezing it harshly. in reply you just pressed yourself harder against him, wordlessly signing him that you longed for more.

you felt him smirk into your kiss and he slowly let his hand glide down your body, stopping at the edge of your jeans. “please, daddy.” you whimpered softly against his lips, staring up at him with the prettiest doe eyes you got.

“what d’ya want?” he teasingly asked, his fingers inching very slowly down your pants. “you, daddy! touch me please.” your plea made his dick twitch in anticipation, he always thought you were so hot when you begged. you impatiently pushed your hips toward his fingers- your cunt was burning for his touch.

“can’t say no now, can i?” he sarcastically retorted as he finally dipped his digits inside your panties. immediately, he began to rub your clit in slow, circular motions, eliciting a relieved sigh from you. again, he trailed his knife down your body before he put it back into its sheath. he expertly opened your jeans one-handed and pushed it with your panties below your ass, giving him more access. daryl almost lost it when he saw your glistening cunt on display.

“you’re fuckin’ drippin’.” he lowly rasped, sliding a finger down to your soaked entrance, wetting the tip of it. “just for you.” you mumbled, tangling your fingers in his hair. “good fuckin’ girl.”

in the blink of an eye he had two of his digits knuckle deep in your pussy, your wetness allowed him to slide in with ease. “ah- fuck!” you mewled, gripping his hair tighter. daryl pressed his lips to yours again as he began to pump his fingers in and out of your cunt in a steady pace, his other hand was back at your tit, groping it feverishly. jolts of pure pleasure crashed through your body as he suddenly curled his fingers and stimulated your sweet spot. “right there.” you squeaked, leaning your head back against the tree.

daryl only took this as a sign and thrusted his fingers faster and rougher inside of you, your walls instantly clamping down on him. he began to lick and suck on your neck, occasionally biting down on your hot flesh. the squelching sounds your pussy made got his dick even harder, needing to be inside of you.

you were a moaning mess, his fingers bringing you closer and closer to your high but then he suddenly pulled them out of you. “wha-“ you began but daryl interrupted you mid-sentence by gripping your waist and turning you around.

“can’t wait any longer.” he mumbled sharply as you heard him fiddling with his belt. with heavy breaths you stared over your shoulder and caught him unzipping his pants. hastily, he pulled down his boxers, making his fully erect cock spring free.

he pumped himself a few times, precum already dripping from the tip, before he stepped closer toward you.

daryl quickly guided his redend tip to your slick entrance, rubbing it up and down teasingly. “ready?” he whispered in your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. you frantically nodded your head and when you finally felt him push into you, your world turned upside down.

there was no other feeling, than his cock stretching you painfully open, that could make you feel this euphoric.

with a rough thrust of his hips he bottomed out, his hips flush against your ass. a loud whimper escaped your throat, followed by strings of sinful moans. daryl’s head arched back at your tight walls wrapping around him so deliciously. “never gonna get tired of your tight lil’ pussy.” he growled, immediately starting off with a fast pace, not giving you any chance to get used to his size.

his hands gripped your hips tightly and he just increased his speed, making sure you could feel every inch of him. you yearned it, desperately trying to meet each thrust. “you’re so big, daddy.” you yelped, eyes rolling to the back of your skull at his bruising thrusts. “ya can take it.” he growled in reply.

the sound of your skin clapping together lingered in the air, only mushing your brains up. daryl pushed your legs apart and made you arch your back painfully, allowing the tip of his cock to brush exactly against that one spot, nestled deep inside of you, that made you go feral. your nails scraped harshly against the tree bark, eyes tightly closed. “you like that, huh?” he asked you breathlessly, “you like my cock stretching you open?” he pistoned into you like a man on a mission.

“yes! i love it!” you purred as he continued to fuck you straight into oblivion. “dirty whore.” daryl growled as he sent a harsh slap to your ass, receiving a high pitched moan from you. to add fuel to your pleasure, he reached around your middle and let his middle finger draw messy circles on your puffy clit. “god, daryl! don’t stop!” you cried out, feeling your orgasm slowly build up.

daryl himself was close to his high, hammering into your tight hole in an animalistic way. your knees began to buckle as he flicked his finger faster- determined to coax an orgasm out of you.

he knew exactly what you liked and how you liked it to get you to your release in an instant.

“gonna cum?” daryl whispered in your ear, kissing the spot just beneath it. “mhm, close.” you managed to let out—his dick was the only thing in you could really think of.

daryl rolled his hips even rougher and quicker than you thought was possible, his cock twitching uncontrollably- always a sign that he was on the verge of cumming. “‘m gonna cum.” he utterly growled through gritted teeth. the only thing that daryl wanted more than anything was to feel you gush all over his cock. “me too!” you whimpered pathetically, knowing that you will cum any second.

“now.” daryl commanded, using a second finger on your clit. “oh my fucking—” a scream tore from your throat, interrupting yourself with another yelp. you were sent straight to heaven as a powerful orgasm took over your whole body.

quick gasps left your mouth as you clutched on the tree in any way you could.

feeling you cum around him and your pussy clamping down on his shaft, daryl’s hips began to stutter as the contraction sent him over the edge with you.

he kept rubbing your now sensitive nub and slammed his hips a few more times against your ass before they sputtered to a stop. reluctantly, he pulled out of your pussy, a sharp hiss falling from your lips.

“was that enough prove?” he mocked you while smacking your ass.

“maybe.” you replied defiantly and pulled your jeans and panties up, still trying to catch your breath.

“you’ll never learn to shut that cheeky mouth of yours.” he stated irritatingly, adjusting his pants as well.

“nope.”

REQUESTS ARE OPENED <3

[cconfusedkat]

For another few decent weeks, I had been thinking abt Wilt's bishops,, and how I wanted them to look. Soooo over the past week, as well as pmv planning, I came up with a few things for the rest of the four :>ccc

This would be pre-betrayal, way before Wilt killed their siblings rather than,, just injuring them! No good deed! Ouch

Wilt had slowly become a spider everyone learned to fear by instinct. They had more members in their war cult compared to the other four—speeeaaaaking of cults, the only cult that didn't exist in Goat's world is the death cult! Instead, the purple crown of wisdom was given to Thanatos (a.k.a Narinder , puprinder if you will :>c for months i wanted to make a german spitz lol-)

Nowwww obligatory warning image ；

Hi! Hi. We good. Are we good now. Are you still okay with suicide and graphic death details . Let's continue 🎊

Their deaths were erased off the og two images up- but yeah, instead of leaving the four with injuries, they went with the full kill option,,, attempting to prove their worth as a god of war? Which? They SHOULDNT have since being a god AND monarch was already plentiful for them???? But hey i guess thats just how mental illness operates and passes down onto you

Ive yet to draw a proper thing for how thanatos. like. Laid there on his wooden bed with a carved skull. That was when i kept him as a cat but i changed my mind two days ago, and, well, here we are- hes a dog now-

Im about 50 seconds into the pmv so i dont have All the things i want to share from my brain! However without spoiling too much-

Wilt clearly did regret murdering their siblings after a while in Purgatory. This isnt them in Purgatory to clarify, as purgatory is a bright & neon orange and full of clouds,, plus we're missing the chain in the head if thats the case ^v^;;

Thanatos was the last planned one to die. Wilt was angry at how long he hid from them, and thanatos ... thanatos didnt know what else to do , especially considering he had a status to mantain and it was rather foolish of him to continue hiding.

Hours before Wilt would arrive to Thanato's palace, thanatos told his guards about framing wilt for murder. The guards looked at him like a crazed man (which, to be fair, he had a right to be going crazy cuz his siblings werent just dead but the other important gods were dying alongside,, he didnt wanna die under the wrath of the god of war. That'd make him look even more foolish than he already saw himself as)

Wilt busted down Thanato's door in his bedroom. Every other room in the palace of his was empty. They opened the curtains to only find his body laying flat—diagonally—on the wooden bed, his bishop clothes still on with a carved off head. His whole skull was visible and still had some blood left on the sockets and bone.

^ Forgot to mention, Wilt wasn't just freaked out at Thanato's still body on the bed. They freaked out because his "ichor" was red. Gods had black, blue, or golden ichor: mortals had just red blood. Wilt realized Thanatos felt every single second of pain from his own suicide.

Causing a panic response in Wilt as planned, they fell to their knees only crying more ichor,, Thanato's guards captured Wilt. It wasn't likely of them to go down without a fight. Areem, one of Thanto's main guards, knew this about Wilt; he prepared a step further, secretly being all the way on the top of the bed, plunging his sword into Wilt's head to go down through their whole body

UMMM. SO. That was what sent Wilt to Purgatory, can also be be referred to as The Above- Areem was the one to then guard Wilt usually in Purgatory. He gave them a change of robes, just not the ones they Actually wanted (the dark gray-purple robes with the gray-purple shall) WHIIIICH EXPLAINS THIS IMAGE FROM OCTOBER

Currently not too sure on what else to mention about these bishops! I did switch the evil's around, though :o) another little fact about Wilt is that their other four legs were cut off so that's why in Purgatory + Follower form they have two legs rather than their original spider form pre-betrayal.

I do wanna add that their actions are inexcusable so ,, even as a follower in goat's cult they're still like. Pretty rude and blunt. Sometimes it's on purpose, but lesser times its not on purpose. I like to believe they grew desensitized to death over time as well as lacking empathy due to social isolation for three millenia, so that explains their behavior much better rather than excusing it? They are the villain of their own history so- lmao-

The goat genocide happened simultaneously before and after Wilt's death! It took three millenia to eradicate all the goat's left of the warlands, perfect timing for Goat & Ram to die ++ showing up in Wilt's realm (which was another perfect convenience for two siblings to appear, since Thanatos died long ago and his wisdom crown was inactive,, the only crowns Wilt had access to were the crown of famine & the crown of wisdom! (Another thing that explained their changed title after giving goat & ram the crowns of war++wisdom, the god of fear and famine)

ER OK YEAH THAT MIGHT BE ALL I HAVE TO SHARE FOR NOW!! YAYYYYYY I just gotta continue working on the pmv :-3cc

[noblecorgi]

2024: A Re-Entry to Fandom

I guess this is a thing? (Oh shit this brackets bit was written at the end and I appear to have emotionally vomited an essay. Sorry ‘bout that.)

In late 2023 I experienced a personal tragedy and retreated to where I had always found comfort: books.

I read a series that had been recommended to me before, but I hadn’t had time to read it - The Simon Snow Trilogy by @rainbowrowell and it awoke a dormant-but-never-forgotten love of fanfiction in me.

In my teens and early 20s I wrote a lot of fan fiction on the ol’ FF net, all of it of atrocious quality I’m certain, which is why I haven’t tried to rediscover that account.

Instead I found AO3, and restarted regularly writing for fun instead of for work or study/research.

I didn’t do any summation for 2023 because I think my first fic was posted on like 10 December 2023, but AO3 tells me I wrote 4 works, all SnowBaz, at a total of 55,154 words.

In 2024, I’ve published 5 works, at a total of 94,323 words.

What truly blows me away (and honestly makes me a bit teary) is the 1013 kudos, 100 subscribers (inc 15 subscribers to just me rather than a fic!), and 222 comment threads on my works. 🥹

So: my 2024 works.

Use your words, SnowBaz, Rated: E, 3,930 words

A smutty lil gift fic wherein Baz teaches Simon how to sext.

Splendid Morons, SnowBaz, Rated: E, 12,886 words

Published for Erotic Grope Fest, aka Baz’s birthday. A collaboration with @alexalexinii and a story written to enable their amazing art of Baz in lingerie.

Precious to me for not only getting to work with Alex, but also for being the beginning of my relationship with Becky @rbkzz, my incomparable beta who has become one of the dearest people in my life.

On The Rocks, SnowBaz, Rated: E, 74,592 words (WIP)

My opus, as it were. It originated from a fluffy cute prompt of “what if Baz and Lady Ruth were work besties?!” And I came along like “YEAH! But with trauma, exploration of love in mental illness, and alcoholism!”

I began posting it in March and it’s about 2/3 done now. But for Becky it would be both an absolute pile of horse poop, and an abandoned WIP. Instead it has a clear direction and she found motifs that I’d repeatedly used by accident in my drafts and built imagery, greater meaning, and also debated me ad nauseam on my preference for spelt over spelled.

Immune Response, @lumosinlove’s Cubs, Rated: G, 1,421 words

I was a big consumer of WolfStar in my teens and was recommended Lumosinlove’s Sweater Weather and, like many before me, fell in love with the story, the original characters, and ice hockey itself (much to the surprised glee of my Canadian spouse, who for a decade has tried in vain to get me on board. Little did he know the key was obviously gays.)

This is a lil’ slice of life sick fic examining how each of the Cubs responds to getting sick.

I have a lot more unpublished drabbles about these characters and some fics that are being cocreated so stay tuned for 2025?

Preliminary, my dear Basil, SnowBaz, Rated: T, 1,494 words

A gift fic for @martsonmars as part of the Carry On Discord’s Secret Snowflake Exchange.

Among their suggestions was “Sherlock AU, but not BBC Sherlock, 19th century Sherlock” and it hooked me with the idea that Baz would absolutely fancy himself as Sherlock. I actually sketched out a plot to SnowBazify 4 of the Holmes stories, so maybe 2025 will see them unearthed.

There is one other published fic I worked on this year, but as a beta rather than a writer for @swoopswrites @rsbigbang piece Class A which was super fun to do (and got me to watch a great series - The Gentlemen on Netflix) and Swoops has a fantastic mind so I’d encourage you to to check it out.

Finally, I have always been a writer rather than an artist, but I do enjoy drawing, and the need to upgrade my iPad for work arose and so I also tried my hand at drawing again for the first time since I was 17 or so.

In order from the first one to the most recent one, the lil scribbles I did this year:

Penelope Bunce, Wolfstar on a train, Baz with coffee, cuddly Cubs, FinnLo being adorable, iconic Moony with a cane, emo Sirius Black.

And THAT was 2024 (and 2023).

@artsyunderstudy @asocialpessimist @angelsfalling16 @whatevertheweather @edenalix @emjaydellyone @erzbethluna @emeryhall @run-for-chamo-miles @raenestee @rimeswithpurple @roomwithanopenfire @thehoneyedhufflepuff @theearlgreymage @thewholelemon @lonleyhumanbeing @letraspal @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @youarenevertooold @iamamythologicalcreature @ichooseyousnowbaz @ic3-que3n @ileadacharmedlife @onepintobean @palimpsessed @prettygoododds @philaet0s @pacey-bunce-loves-joey @sorenphelps @skee3000 @stitchy-queerista @fiend-for-culture @facewithoutheart @fruitcoops @girlwithcurls96 @hushed-chorus @hihimissamericanbi @cutestkilla @cosmicalart @confused-bi-queer @noopienoopiernoopiest @messofthejess @monbons