#Direct-to-Audience Models

[ayyy-pee]

𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐃

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Pairing: Model!Shoko Ieri x Female Reader, Model!Utahime Iori x Female Reader, Shokohime x Female Reader

Summary: You're a top Public Relations manager covering Tokyo Fashion Week. All the drugs, sex and outrageous going ons never see the light of day. Why? Because it's your job to cover up scandal.

But that doesn't mean you can't have your own risky fun.

Story Warning: Smut, LESBIANS, Reader works in Public Relations, Mentions of Drugs, Mentions of hookups, Bath sex, Bathtub Threesome, Cunnilingus, Cum Eating, Profanity bc c'mon...it's me, Vaginal Bumping and Grinding, Referenced STRAP usage, Fingering, Secret Flings, Sneaky Sex, Dub-con? (Reader and ShokoHime have a few drinks...but do consent to sex), Sneaking Around, Secret Recordings

Art by: Cake__Sensei (Twitter)

A/N: I FINALLY finished something for my Jujutsu Journal Collab Event! I hope yall enjoy!!! Thank you to everyone participating and for everyone who has helped me to reach 3k followers!!!

You’ve always loved the fast paced feel of Tokyo Fashion Week. The bright lights flashing and catching every crease and detail of the fabrics on display. The music thumping and crowd cheering as the models strut down the runway. The chaos backstage as everyone rushes to slip in and out of the next garment in time for their cue. Yes, you loved being a part of that feeling, you loved capturing that feeling. Because it was your job to catch every crease and detail, the sexy walks of the models, the mayhem that happens behind the scenes while the audience patiently waits.

It’s exhilarating, really. Being invited to such elite and exclusive events has changed your life in ways you could have never imagined. When you first started your career in fashion, you would have never dreamed of making it this far. This was worlds away from filming street fashion on your shitty little cell phone and interviewing small time designers. But you’ve worked so hard, worked even smarter and have networked your way to the top of your department.

And now, you're the head of the PR team for one of the top fashion magazines in Japan, currently assigned to cover the after party of Tokyo Fashion Week to collect enough content for a post show documentary.

The after party is as wild as you’d imagined it would be. The ritziness and glam of the actual fashion show can hardly be found here. It’s all thumping loud music, raunchy dancing and paraphernalia scattered across various surfaces. 

Looking for sweaty bodies bumping and grinding in off the runway Dior? You’ll find it here. 

Want to catch someone snorting a line in vintage Chanel? Just turn your head in any direction, really. 

Can you see a pair of this season’s YSL heels peeking out from around the corner where someone is on their knees giving the sloppiest blowjob? Absolutely.

And it’s your job to make sure that what’s happening here never sees the light of day.

You love scandal, because it gives you a job, pays your bills and keeps your lights on and food in your fridge. As long as some celebrity is getting into shit they’re not supposed to, you’ll always have a job. But outside of work, you loathe scandal, avoid it at all costs because the biggest cost would be your career. Sure, you’ve joined in on the fun, partook in scandalous behavior from time to time, but you’re always careful. There are never any traces, never any receipts, never any damning evidence that could lead back to you.

No one will ever know that you spent a weekend in Bali with famous pop musician Satoru Gojo while his wife waited patiently for him to return from “filming” a new music video.

They will also never know about your brief tryst with his best friend, Suguru Geto in Nara, Seoul and Bora Bora. Not even Satoru.

And your romantic holiday trip with award winning actress Yuki Tsukumo? As far as everyone else knows, it never happened.

See, you were that damn good at your job. That’s why you were the head of your PR team, after all. It’s why you knew exactly where to direct your videographer to point their camera. You spot the rolled dollar bills and white lines before they can react, finger pushing the camera sideways to focus on something else.

Lo and behold, it points to a group of models standing casually off to the side of the party as they mingle with guests. You recognize one face among the crowd, those deep purple bags beneath his eyes highlighted by the flashing neon lights.

It’s Choso, a model, with his hair up in space buns, a part of his styling. He’s dressed to the nines in the most stylish streetwear of the season, his signature Prada combat boots on. 

You’ve known Choso for quite some time, often running into each other at these afterparties. Years ago, in the early hours of the morning, you’d clumsily attempted a drunk hookup. Every kiss, every touch, every attempt to work each other up to something more amounted to nothing. It ended with you both tangled in each other’s arms, falling apart with laughter. And so, you’d decided you were better off as friends, and had become quite close since. It worked better for you both that way. You just weren’t into each other like that.

But Choso has been a good friend to you. You often find yourself hanging out together after the chaos of the fashion show has died down and a new session of mayhem has begun for the afterparty. You haven’t seen him in months, but that doesn’t seem to make a difference because Choso spots you easily behind the camera and waves you over to his group of friends.

“Haven’t seen you since Paris,” he calls out to you as you approach. He slings an arm around your shoulders, hugging you tightly to his chest and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“I know! I’ve missed you!” You yell back. “How have you been?”

“Not too bad, not too bad at all. Dating someone now!”

You lean back in his hold, brows rising to your hairline. “You? In a relationship?” 

You’re shocked. You’ve seen Choso go through different women, but never heard him refer to whoever he was seeing as dating. He nods, just as one of the most beautiful women you’ve ever laid eyes on approaches you two. Her lips quirk into a pretty smile and you can tell right away that she’s not a model. The smile is far too genuine, but that’s not to say she couldn’t be one if she wanted. She’s stunning, with smooth caramel brown skin and braids that fall down her back, and big brown eyes that you can already see Choso getting lost in as he pulls away from you to wrap his arms around her waist. He peers down at her, the awe apparent in his gaze. Like he just can’t believe he’s got her.

“Hey, babe,” he mutters just before his lips meet hers in a hungry kiss.

Oh, he’s in love, love.

Choso introduces you to his babe, Kamila and she’s as sweet as she looks. But you don’t get to talk to her much, because Choso is not willing to spend any time he’s not obligated to away from his love. You don’t blame him. She’s breathtaking. You can’t help but smile, watching as Choso and his girlfriend completely forget they’re at this party together, surrounded by people. 

Which is fine, because it’s about time to wrap it up yourself so that you and your crew can also take time to enjoy the rest of the festivities.

Turning to your associate, you signal for them to hand you their camera. They quickly switch it off before placing it in your hands. “Go party,” you tell them, dismissing them for the night. “Nothing crazy,” you add. “And if it gets crazy, make sure there’s nothing that can be traced back to the company. And if something happens that can be traced back to the company, call me.”

They know the rules. They’re the same ones you follow and the same ones the company practically beat into your skull when you were first brought on. So far, they’ve worked for you. No one has been able to outsmart any of you. Your team is solid.

“Got it boss,” your cameraman exclaims. Then they’re off to get into whatever trouble the night has in store for them.

And while you’re pondering what trouble you can get into, it seems to find you first.

“Boss, huh?” A sweet voice questions behind you. You spin around to see Choso and his girlfriend are now nowhere in sight. Instead, you’re face to face with two of the most alluring women you’ve ever laid eyes on. They’re dressed in skin tight dresses that leave little to the imagination, their long legs exposed and damn they look good. You recognize them from the show and from the model roster.

The beautiful slender one with the cute little beauty mark beneath one of her tired eyes – Shoko Ieiri. She’s got a bit of an intimidating aura and a smile that has your heart pounding rapidly behind your ribcage. She’s a bit scary. And admittedly, you find it sexy. 

You’ve never spoken to Shoko. The models are usually too busy working and racing around backstage to have much time to mingle. By the time the show’s over, they’re either back in their rooms or out at whatever party they can get into. But have also never heard anything negative about Shoko from any contacts in the industry, which speaks volumes to you. You hear everything. It’s easy for anyone to get their hands on anything if they try hard enough.

When there’s nothing to find, it means they’re good at keeping their dirt swept under the rug. Those are the types of people you get along best with.

Then, there’s the slightly shorter one, with a rough scar that runs from one side of her face to the other in contrast to her soft features – Utahime Iori. She’s as striking as Shoko – curvy and looks soft in all the right places. 

Again, nothing crazy about Utahime. You’ve heard she’s quite the hothead, which would be quite interesting if it were true. She has a less intimidating air about her. Her big brown eyes make her seem sweeter than the woman standing beside her. It makes her all the more intriguing to you.

Regardless, they both have their pretty gazes on you and for a split second, you feel the roles reverse. In this world, you’re at the top of the food chain. Everyone else is the prey. Because you could spin any story, take any insult slung your way and crush your target. Because no one had anything on you. But for some reason, as these two women stare you down, Utahime with her bottom lip pulled between her teeth and Shoko puckering her lips around the butt of a cigarette, you feel like they could destroy you.

And if there’s one thing you love, it’s a woman who feels dangerous.

So when Shoko asks if you’d like to join her and Utahime for some drinks, you really can’t say no. And you don’t want to.

- - - - - - - - -

“What’d you think of the show?” Utahime asks eagerly. You’re all seated on one of the expensive velvet sofas on the second floor of this club. Shoko has made herself comfortable, leaning back against the arm of the chair. And you’ve made yourself even more comfortable, seated between her long legs and leaning against Shoko’s chest while Utahime sits next to you, idly playing with your fingers.

You take a slow sip of your drink. It’ll probably be your last for the night. From the moment you laid eyes on these two, you knew what direction you wanted the night to go. You want to be sober enough to enjoy it.

Utahime peers up expectantly at you with those big brown eyes of hers, long lashes curling cutely and it makes your cheeks heat. The alcohol is not helping with how easily your body is responding.

“It was really good,” you finally answer. Utahime beams, a little smile beginning to grow on her lips.

“Really?” She asks, and you nod. “We did good?”

Behind you, you feel the vibration of Shoko’s chuckle rumble against your back. And as you stare down into Utahime’s eyes, it’s clear why.

Okay. This one likes praise, you note mentally. You nod again. “So good.” And you’re unable to stop the smile forming on your lips when Utahime’s grin widens. She looks over to Shoko, who lazily takes a drag of another cigarette, blowing her smoke out of the side of her mouth to avoid suffocating you. Her long fingers trail absentmindedly up and down your arm as she listens to you and Utahime continue on about the show.

You’ve noticed that Shoko isn’t very talkative. She’s more observant than anything and while that would usually bother you, there’s something about Shoko that puts you at ease. Like you can put your life in her hands and can be confident you would be alright. Maybe it’s because everything around you is always so busy, always so loud. Her silence feels grounding amongst the chaos. 

But you also find her silence a little funny since she and Utahime seem to be so close. Utahime seems more the party type than Shoko does. She’s outgoing and friendly, warm and inviting. It’s such a stark contrast to Shoko, and yet they’re always with each other. Even earlier in the night, if Shoko went to the bar, Utahime was right behind her, telling you they’d be right back before chasing after her. If Utahime wanted to dance, Shoko was next to her. You suppose opposites do attract.

You suspect they’re more than just colleagues or friends and you file that tidbit away in your mind. If the night is headed where you want it to go, where you suspect it’s going to go, you need to collect any pertinent information you can beforehand. 

Just in case.

“Ugh,” Shoko groans, leaning forward suddenly to smash her half finished cigarette into the ashtray on the side table next to her. “All this noise is making my head hurt.”

Utahime nods in agreement. “It has been a long day…” She sits straighter, grasping your hand tightly she asks, “Should we get going?”

Damn, you think. You’re a little disappointed to think the night is ending here. “Are you two heading home?” You’re sure the frown on your face is clear, even in the darkness of the venue. You don’t want them to go yet.

Shoko snorts, shaking her head. She leans back against the chair, looping an arm around your waist and pulling you back onto her. “No,” she breathes, and she’s so close to your ear, you can feel her breath ghost along your skin, can smell the faint mixture of nicotine and spearmint. “We don’t live anywhere near here,” she explains, fingers gliding along your skin again. “Hime and I got a reservation at one of those onsen hotels up the street.”

“It’s really nice from the pictures I saw online,” Utahime adds, a cheerful lilt to her tone when she speaks. “Can’t wait to get there.”

You can feel the shift in the atmosphere when those words leave her lips. The air is thick, heavy. You’re familiar with this feeling. You know it all too well, and your heart races in your chest. Behind you, you feel Shoko’s body tense up briefly before she relaxes.

Then Utahime is crawling along your form, moving closer to you, closer and closer, and you think she’s going to try and kiss you. And damn it, you’d let her…if it was you she was aiming for. Instead, you watch, eyes blown wide with curiosity and honestly, desire as Utahime presses her plush lips to Shoko’s. Normally, you’d be elated to know your hunch was correct, that they were in fact more than friends, but you can’t seem to care when you see their lips connect. Their kiss is sweet at first, just a few light pecks, quiet sighs between them. Until Utahime grins into the kiss, pulling back slightly to giggle at the way Shoko’s brows knit together. Shoko frowns, bringing a hand up to grip Utahime’s long chocolate tresses.

“Don’t tease me, Hime,” she breathes through gritted teeth. Then she’s pulling Utahime’s face to hers, smashing their lips together for a messy, passionate kiss. And all you can do is watch as their tongues slip into each other’s mouths, breaths heavy as they quietly moan into each kiss. It’s so sexy, the way Utahime whimpers. How Shoko nips at Utahime’s already swollen lips. How Shoko pulls you tighter against her, pressing your ass against her groin.

You’re not sure if it’s the drinks you’ve had with these girls, the cigarettes or the scent of their perfumes that has your head swimming. Hell, maybe it’s a mixture of it all, but you’re so turned on watching these beautiful women kissing in front of you. All of their lust being poured into each slot of their lips, every groan and whimper between them, it’s all so arousing. You squeeze your thighs together, prompting a soft chuckle from the woman behind you. Shoko breaks away from the kiss, releasing her hold on Utahime’s hair who pouts cutely, sitting back on her knees.

“Don’t look so sad, Hime,” Shoko coos. She turns her attention back to you. “Just seemed like someone wanted to join us.”

And you do. You want to join them real fucking bad.

But when Shoko leans forward, just trying to press a kiss to your neck, your brain suddenly crawls out of the fog. You’re out in the open, in a compromising position with two models, at that. So you move, a hand flying up to push Shoko back a little.

Her brows furrow, head tilting in confusion and she releases her hold on you. “Oh– Sorry, I didn’t mean to assume…I just thought–”

“No you’re right,” you reassure them. Your eyes dart around the venue, and while everyone is likely drugged up or too drunk out of their minds to notice three girls feeling each other up in the club, you can never be too careful. “Just…not here. Let’s go back to your hotel.”

Shoko looks at Utahime, who stares at you two with eager eyes and a smile that would melt anyone’s heart. “Okay! Let’s go!”

- - - - - - - - -

Shoko checks you all into the hotel, and the room is as beautiful as you’d imagine it would be. There’s a main bedroom with a fluffy king bed ready to be slept in…or not. Off to the side of the room is a small dining area, and through large glass doors is the onsen bath, the water already run by the hotel staff for you. It screams luxury. You can see the steam curling from the water and god, if you couldn’t use a bath to wash away the day.

You set your bag and camera down on the dining table. Stretching your arms over your head, you take in the room, moving across the space. “This hotel is fucking incredible,” you gasp. “I can’t believe your agency spoils you guys like this.”

Shoko laughs, kicking her heels off and setting them in the little armoire by the entrance. “Right? I was surprised myself. Make yourself at home,” she tells you from the other side of the room.

She didn’t have to tell you twice. You couldn’t wait to crawl into that bed and – 

“What’s this for?”

You peek over your shoulder, eyes landing on Utahime fumbling around with the camera and panic sets in. You cannot lose that footage. “Please don’t touch that!” It comes out more forcefully than you intended and Utahime sets the camera down quickly, holding her hands up defensively. 

“Sorry!”

You rush toward her, only to be stopped in your tracks by Shoko, who places her hands on your shoulders. “Hey, relax. She was just looking.” She fixes you with a small smile, running her hands soothingly along your arms. And it does calm you, the earlier fear you felt melting away. “Be glad you caught her before she dropped it.” Shoko shakes her head, releasing your shoulders before she turns, moving towards the other woman. Utahime stands still, watching and waiting as Shoko slips behind her easily. Shoko’s fingers pinch the zipper of Utahime’s dress and drag it along the fabric until her dress slowly loosens around her chest and your gaze falls to the movement. “She can be careless sometimes,” Shoko speaks softly. Her fingers glide along Utahime’s collarbone, dragging down to the swell of her breasts. “Don’t mind her.” 

Shoko spins around, and Utahime follows, gently pushing Shoko’s hair aside. She presses a soft kiss to the back of Shoko’s neck and you watch as she trails kisses along the side of Shoko’s neck, pulling quiet sighs from the taller woman as she pulls the zipper until the fabric falls to the floor, revealing her bare slim form. Shoko turns back around and captures Utahime’s lips with hers, only breaking away to whisper, “Be more careful, okay?” before she’s back on her.

And all you can do is watch, the nerves you felt earlier about the camera now melted away. Beneath the soft lighting of the hotel room, they look like ethereal beings. Too innocent to be partaking in such salacious behavior. Arousal pools in your core as the vision of the two model’s tongues tangling sends you spiraling. Have you ever been so turned on, so eager to touch someone, to feel their body on yours? Even your nights spent with the most famous celebrities never had you so tempted to slip your hands into your panties.

It’s the way Shoko holds onto Utahime’s form against her own. How she reaches a hand up to pull down the loosened fabric against Utahime’s chest. How Utahime becomes exposed, her supple breasts falling gently. Utahime’s soft whimpers when the chill air ghosts along her pretty pink nipples, the buds puckering when Shoko rolls them gently between her fingers.

Shoko sighs, pulling away reluctantly. “You’re so pretty,” she whispers, hands kneading Utahime’s breasts. “So beautiful. My perfect girl.”

You can see the way Utahime’s eyes light up from across the room, a shy smile lifting the corners of her lips. “No, you,” she teases and Shoko chuckles.

Her heated gaze finds yours from across the room, how you’re watching them intently with desire clear in your eyes. Utahime follows her line of sight, and it’s clear to her what Shoko wants. She raises her hand, inviting you over to join. And you don’t hesitate. Like magnets drawn to each other, your legs carry you to them with ease.

Both women welcome you, the anticipation clear. They want this just as badly as you do, and for a moment, you wonder if their panties are just as soaked as yours. They’ve been kissing each other, touching each other, getting to taste and enjoy each other while you’ve gotten the pleasure of watching from the sidelines. Now you’re about to partake in these pleasures with them. You’re more excited than you care to admit.

Utahime takes your hand, guiding you closer and closer until you’re standing right in front of her. “Are you okay with this?” She asks, eyes locked on your parted lips and you nod your consent.

“Yes, I want this.”

Utahime’s bright eyes travel to Shoko, who watches you both with hardly concealed interest. 

“This stays here, though. Right?” 

You want to be sure before moving forward. Not that you were concerned, but better to have heard it with your own ears.

”Of course,” Shoko confirms. She bites down on her lip before looping an arm around your waist. Now she has both you and Utahime in her hold. “Now kiss her.”

The command has your core aching. You’ve wanted nothing more than to know what it felt like, tasted like, to kiss them. Didn’t matter who first or if it was both at the same time. You just wanted to feel their lips on yours.

And you do, when Shoko dips her head down to bury her face in your neck just as Utahime presses her mouth on yours. The moment their mouths connect with your skin, your body ignites with heat. Utahime is an amazing kisser. She has pretty, plush and soft lips that easily mold against yours. And she makes cute little noises when your tongues touch.

Shoko on the other hand, is a bit rougher, hungrier with her kisses. When she cups your cheek and breaks your kiss with Utahime by turning your head, she’s quick to nip at your lips. Her tongue slips into your mouth the second you let out a moan. While you and Shoko are heavily making out, Utahime takes this time to grab your hands, laying them against her large breasts.

“Touch me,” she sighs, squeezing your hands beneath hers and moaning at the applied pressure. 

You oblige, hands running lightly over the hardened buds and you revel in the way Shoko moans a quiet “I love the way you play with her tits…” into your mouth. “I wanna see you play with her pussy later.” You whimper into the kiss, her confession making your cheeks heat. You’ll admit, this is your first threesome. It’s hard to focus, your mind is so foggy with the arousal building in your core. It’s all too much – too much movement, too much touching, too much sound and way too much going on with your own body.

Your lips tingle, almost numb from how hard and greedily Shoko kisses you. Your skin vibrates with the way Utahime is practically helping you to play with her breasts. And your panties are probably dripping with arousal right now. You are desperate to cum.

“We should get into the bath,” Utahime groans when you cup her breasts. She leans forward, nudging Shoko away from your lips. Shoko gives her hardly any space at all, taking one side of your mouth while Utahime takes the other. Then it’s all three of your tongues tangling together in this sloppy, wet kiss. 

Though you’re all reluctant to break away, Shoko moves first, stepping back enough to grab the hem of your shirt and peel it off of you, forcing Utahime back as well. You’re all breathing heavily, flushed and aroused beyond measure, but you still nod. “Yeah, let's get in bath…” 

++++++++++

“Have you been with a woman before?” Shoko asks, lacing her fingers between yours as she guides you into her lap. You straddle her, though you don’t sit fully on her lap yet.

You’ve all slipped into the warmth of the deep hotel bathtub. Shoko sits half submerged on the bathtub’s built-in bench with her back against the tub’s wall. If your body was burning up before, it’s on fire now, your pulse racing after spending the last few minutes lathering each other’s bodies and kissing until your lips hurt.

“I have.”

Shoko’s brows rise, almost as if she’s surprised by the confirmation. “Two women?”

You shake your head. Nevertheless, Shoko grins as she asks, “Well? The one you’ve been with…How was it?” She pulls you closer, until your lips are hovering barely over hers, breaths mingling. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

The question hangs heavy between you two. It’s not as though answering this question would implicate you in any way, or give them any clues as to who the last woman you slept with was. So you answer honestly, just barely above a whisper. “Yeah, it was pretty good.”

Utahime giggles, gliding through the water to close the distance between you all. “She’s so cute, Shoko.” 

Shoko cups your face, eyes cast down to your lips. “She is, isn’t she?” She runs her thumb along your lip teasingly before she declares, “I can give you something better than pretty good.” 

“Yeah?” You challenge her.

“Yeah, she can,” Utahime confirms. “We can.” She closes the gap between you all, placing her hands on your waist from behind. You feel her wet breasts press against your back and your eyes flutter closed. Utahime is curvy in all the right places. You are no better than a man, more than turned on by the feeling of her pressed against you. Your absolute favorite part about her is her pretty, large breasts. You can’t wait to have her nipples in your mouth.

Utahime places light kisses along your skin, along your neck, moving so that she’s on her knees beside you and Shoko. She adjusts her height smoothly so that she sits a little taller, enough so that she can cup the back of your head and pull you to her chest. Your lips latch onto her nipple quickly, eagerly and she gasps, back arching and pushing her breast further into the cavern of your mouth. You hum against her, tongue rolling the pert bud. She tastes of the strawberry body wash you just rinsed off of her. You’re so distracted, moving back and forth between Utahime’s breasts that you don’t notice Shoko slipping a hand between the other woman’s thighs beneath the water. Not until Utahime cries out, hands coming up to find purchase on your shoulders. 

And Shoko, the bitch that she is, places her other hand on your thigh and guides you to sit down, mouth falling open with a soft moan when your hips connect under the bath water. Shoko rolls hips, brushing her core with yours and grinning as she watches your mouth fall agape against Utahime’s breast. She does it again, smiling wide when a small whimper falls from your lips. Then she keeps doing it, keeps grinding herself against you until your thighs are trembling, and you’re nothing but a puddle clinging to Utahime’s waist.

And Utahime, she’s not any better off. Shoko’s fingers are slowly working her towards her release. She’s already been pent up, teased and turned on since you’d all gotten together at the nightclub. Now, as Shoko scissors her fingers inside her sex, presses her palm to her clit, Utahime only inches closer to the edge. 

The smaller woman pushes you from her chest, her hands cupping your face so she can capture your lips with hers. And you’re so overstimulated, your mind reeling while the water sloshes with every thrust of Shoko’s hips. Shoko gently cups one of your breasts, rolling your nipple between her thumb and forefinger, moaning as she feels your clits brush against each other repeatedly. She sighs sweetly watching as you ride her, all while Utahime rides her hand while her lips slot against yours.

“You’re so soft,” Utahime breathes, tongue pushing past your lips to press against your own wet muscle. One hand finds the back of Utahime’s head, fingers tangling in her soft tresses and you hear Shoko moan beneath you, her hips slamming into yours. Your tongue tangles messily with Utahime’s, all saliva and groans as Shoko moves you against her. Water splashes over the sides of the tub. You can’t be bothered to care about the mess you’re all making. Not when this feels so good, not when Utahime kisses you like this, not while Shoko makes her sob into your mouth, not when you can feel the delicious tension beginning to build in your core. 

“Fuck, ah – you’re both so sexy…” Shoko groans. “Love watching you kiss each other. So fucking sexy…Play with my tits while I fuck her, Hime.”

Without breaking the kiss, Utahime grasps one of Shoko’s breasts, tweaking her nipple and grinning against your mouth when Shoko gasps loudly. Her thrusts come faster, head falling back as she moans.

“Ahh…Shoko…you make such pretty sounds, baby.” Utahime coos and you whimper, eyes rolling back when your cunt slides against Shoko’s deliciously. “You do, too,” Utahime tells you, kissing you one last time before breaking away to lean down and kiss Shoko now.

All the while, Shoko never stops her movements. It’s like she’s an expert with her hands because she never loses hold of your hip, guiding you against her while she fucks her fingers into Utahime with her other hand. The room is full of the lewd sounds of you three whimpering, moaning, and whining at the shared intimacy. If there’s anyone in the rooms next to you, they may complain, but you’re not worried about that. You’re more concerned with the way Utahime’s voice rises several octaves, her cheeks pink and eyes squeezed shut.

“Gonna cum?” Shoko groans. “C’mere. C’mere, baby,” Shoko stops moving, gently pulling her fingers from Utahime’s pussy. She’s so gentle with the other woman as she adjusts herself so that she’s able to lean her head back enough for Utahime to stand between you and her, legs spread as she settles her knees on the edge of the tub, positioning her core over Shoko’s face. You’ve got a nice view of Utahime’s pretty round ass, and an even better view of Shoko pressing a passionate kiss to Utahime’s cunt, tongue running through her folds, lips wrapping around Utahime’s swollen bud.

Utahime gasps, moaning breathlessly when Shoko sucks her clit hard, then teases it with the tip of her tongue. Your hands play idly with Shoko’s nipples, eyes locked on the way Shoko devours Utahime, like she’s never tasted something sweeter in her life. It’s such an arousing vision. Utahime’s thighs begin to tremble and you’re grateful for the platform of the bath, where Utahime falls forward onto her hands. She’s on all fours, riding Shoko’s face. 

“Shokoooo, ooh–,” she hisses through gritted teeth. “Gonna fucking cum, babe,” she warns, and Shoko’s lips wrap around her clit again, humming loudly as she gives Utahime’s ass a harsh smack. This has Utahime’s body spasming, a high pitched cry leaving her as she reaches her peak. And as you watch Shoko drive Utahime over the edge with just her tongue, you’re unsure if it’s the water from the bath or Utahime’s release that’s running down Shoko’s face, absolutely soaking the taller woman’s chin.

“Fuck,” you moan quietly, eyes locked on the sexy sight before you. Your clit throbs beneath the surface. Maybe Shoko feels it, because she picks her movements back up after returning both hands to your hips. Your cunt slips and slides against Shoko’s again and this time, after watching Utahime fall apart on Shoko’s tongue, you’re even more aroused and eager to reach your own release. It’s not too far off, only getting closer as you watch Utahime shudder while Shoko continues making out with her pussy.

When it’s clear Utahime is spent, she climbs off of Shoko and slips back into the water, gliding through the liquid to position herself behind you where she begins kissing along your neck again. Her hands finds your breasts and she kneads them gently from behind, the motion such a contrast to the way Shoko is roughly fucking you again.

And once more, you’re all whimpering, hands roaming each other’s bodies. Grabbing soft flesh and squeezing anywhere you can that pulls sweet noises. You’re riding Shoko hard, desperately trying to cum. Each stroke of your clit against hers has you reeling, the sweet sensation pushing you closer and closer to your climax.

“I’m jealous,” Utahime pouts cutely. “Shoko gets to fuck you so good. I wanna fuck you, too.” 

You can’t do anything but whimper pathetically at the aspect of your legs crossed with Utahime’s. Shoko’s moans follow. “I wanna see you fuck her, baby.” She thrusts her hips up, a loud moan rushing past your lips. “You wanna fuck Hime, too? She eats pussy so good.”

“God, yes!” You cry, eyes closed as you focus on your impending climax.

“We have plenty of time tonight,” Utahime assures you. “Maybe we can even do this another time.”

“Oh, I’d love that. Get to see this pretty pussy again,” Shoko grunts, eyes locked on the way your tits bounce with every roll of your hips. “God, even in the water, your pussy is so fucking wet.”

Utahime groans, pouting further. “Stopppp, Shoko. I already said I’m–”

“Gonna cum,” Shoko whines. “Oh my god, I’m gonna cum!”

Shoko leans forward suddenly, grasping you by the back of your neck and pulling you close so she can crash her lips into yours. The mixture of Shoko's taste and the tang of Utahime’s cum on Shoko’s tongue has your eyes rolling back, and you’re toppling over. Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, the tension and build up throughout the night finally snapping the band that had been coiling in your core for the last several hours.

Your arms wrap around Shoko’s shoulders as you keen into each other's mouths, riding out your highs.

“Oh wow…” Utahime rubs small circles on your back. “That was…really hot.”

You’re catching your breath, Shoko still holding onto your hips tightly. Her hair is stuck to her forehead, a sweaty mess that somehow looks even more beautiful this way.

“We’re gonna need another bath,” she chuckles.

The night carries on with much of the same taking place. After the bath (and second bath), the three of you fall into bed, quickly finding yourselves tangled in the sheets.

++++++++++

The next morning, you’re awakened by the sound of your phone buzzing incessantly on the hotel table. Your head is pounding and you’re not sure if it’s the couple glasses of wine you had, or the dehydration from the many orgasms both women pulled from you last night. Probably a mixture of both.

Speaking of Shoko and Utahime, you stretch carefully in bed, remembering you all fell asleep with you sandwiched between them. But you’re left confused when you don’t feel a warm body on either side of you. You open your eyes slowly, wincing when the early morning rays of sun feel like a punch to the forehead. But even the aching in your skull isn’t enough for you to ignore that you appear to be alone in a hotel room that is not yours.

You crawl out of bed, peering around the room. “Hello?” You call out, and it feels like your voice is echoing, bouncing off the walls of this quiet room. You check the bathroom and find it’s empty. You check the closet and don’t see any evidence that clothes were inside last night. “Maybe they just had to leave,” you murmur to yourself. Because it helps soothe the nagging feeling you have sitting in the pit of your stomach at the moment.

Shrugging off the feeling, you go about your morning as you normally would. You shower, brush your teeth, dress in the clothes you’d come over in last night and plan on heading back home to report back to work.

Your phone is still buzzing when you’re about ready to head out. You finally pick it up, unlocking the device and seeing a plethora of missed calls as well as several text messages from some of your team members and associates.

Associate 1: Where are you?

Associate 1: 911!! Please pick up!

You roll your eyes, wondering what trouble they’d gotten into last night. What mess will you have to clean up this morning?

Associate 3: PLEASE ANSWER THE PHONE

Director: You need to call me.

Director: NOW.

Slight panic begins to set in, and you continue scrolling through your messages. There’s one from an unknown number, sent in the early hours of the morning. You open the message, eyes practically bulging out of your head when you see the contents.

Unknown: No hard feelings, okay? We really needed the exposure so we could get booked for more shows. Thanks for last night! - H

Another text comes through, and you think you might be fucking sick when you read it. It’s a link to a news article for…Jujutsu Journal? Stupid ass name, but it’s a gossip blog so what did you expect? 

The page has screenshots of a very familiar scene. You and the models in the bath. You and Utahime on the bed with your heads thrown back in ecstasy. A blurred pic, censoring what may be the dirtiest of all – you bent over the bed on all fours, with your face buried between Utahime’s legs while Shoko (and her lilac colored strap) destroy you from behind. 

Where the absolute hell would they get these?!

The headline reads:

TAKING RELATING TO THE PUBLIC TO A WHOLE NEW LEVEL! Head Public Relations manager for one of Japan’s top fashion magazines is in quite a pickle! This morning Jujutsu Journal received EXCLUSIVE footage of her in various intimate positions with models Shoko Ieiri and Utahime Iori! Rumor has it these two are already booked and busy. Meanwhile, it looks like this Public Relations manager may soon be booted and broke! Want to see the tape? Click here to sign up for exclusive members only access!

The pieces begin to connect, your mind flashing back to just last night. The camera is right where you left it the night before. Well, where Utahime left it. But when your fingers push the button to open the tape cartridge, you find it empty. All the footage from the night before is gone! You feel like you may faint. All these years of being so careful, at least twenty steps ahead. All the progress you’ve made…gone.

And not just that! Now there’s a sextape of you three floating around the internet! Is that why Utahime was fumbling around with the camera? Why Shoko went out of her way to distract you? So that she could buy Utahime time to turn the camera on and hit record? Is that why they showed so much interest in you in the first place? Everything is beginning to make more and more sense, while simultaneously making less and less sense. You’re so confused.

“What the fuck?” You mutter to no one but yourself.

Your phone buzzes. You’re scared to look, but you know you should.

“What…the…fuck…” You still can’t believe this is happening. To you of all people.

Your eyes see the name light up on your screen. It’s your boss.

There’s no way you’ll be able to spin this one. 

[yeah-thats-probably-it]

#doesnt bertie do something similar with his vocabulary lapses and the numerous instances of 'if x is the word i mean'#bertie is writing his stories after the fact just like jeeves - he could look it up. he doesnt. in jeeves in the offing bertie gets a word#wrong ergo dahlia doesnt understand what he means and bertie reacts as though it were self-evident that dahlia couldnt have understood him#even if he'd used the right word: 'you are probably not familiar with the word but its one i've heard jeeves use'#if we assume that that is how bertie looks at the world then he doesnt have to look it up - to bertie people like him (people who will read#his writings) dont know words like jeeves does and therefore it is unneccessary to be 100% sure which word he means - noone else would know#and while jeeves doesnt include literary allusions in his narration he very much establishes himself as an authority in that area#except he does it through bertie - he is writing a guide addressed to new valets and right at the beginning he quotes emerson at bertie#who is immediately portrayed as the guy who cant remember the name of the play he saw the evening before. jeeves is absolutely showing off!#there are three foreign words set in cursive in the first paragraph alone! but the difference is while he may be showing off he - just as#you said - has nothing to prove - he is already the authority and here hes just establishing another way in which a valet#has to keep the upper hand

@noandnooneelse's tags for further discussion about jeeves as a narrator but responding in the tags because that's the most superior method of communication

you guys ever notice how in his dialogue when he's in bertie's presence, jeeves uses quotations and references constantly, but in his THOUGHTS during "bertie changes his mind," he doesn't use any? this is obviously because he doesn't care if we the audience know he knows shakespeare, but he will languish and die if he doesn't get to dazzle bertie with his wit and knowledge every five seconds

[artist-issues]

Let’s talk about this Mufasa movie.

No. Let’s not. Let’s just talk about Mufasa. This is going to be long because he’s a really good character and The Lion King is a really good movie.

Mufasa’s whole point, as a character, is to foil Simba. He’ s not just the stereotypical “great dad role model” character, or the “wise mentor who is ripped away” character.

He, as a character, is in the story because he is “Who Simba Really Is.”

Simba is our young protagonist. The whole point of Simba in the story is to start out “not yet grown into who he really is,” so that the story can teach him how to “grow into who he really is.”

So the audience needs to know “who is Simba and who is Simba supposed to be?” right at the beginning. Which is great, because all kids are trying to figure out the same question about themselves. So it’s relatable. But anyway, the storytellers make Mufasa the answer.

On a simple level, you can answer the question, “who is this Simba guy?” right off the bat in the movie with “the son of the King.” There’s the setting. There’s the set-up. There’s the title of the movie. That’s why the very first lion you’re introduced to in the movie is Mufasa, and it’s not a shot of a baby lion cub. It could have been. Lots of movies open with a shot of their main character. Encanto, for one.

Not The Lion King. The Lion King starts with, “you can’t know who Simba is without Mufasa, so Mufasa gets shown first.”

So okay, Mufasa is a King. Good to know. That’s obvious from the big rock he’s standing on and the way all the animals are coming toward him. But from there, they quickly establish a few more things about Mufasa. He smiles at this little bird that bows to him. He hugs the shaman-monkey. He goes from “big solemn lion” to “good and benevolent” immediately.

And then as it goes on, you learn more about Mufasa. He’s not an idiot; he knows Scar is up to no good, and he is very direct about it. He is not a naive dupe, trusting a schemer blindly. It’s more complicated than that. He is a better leader and a better guy than that. Mufasa knows Scar is his brother, and in a snappy little interaction with Zazu, storytellers make it clear that he worries about Scar; he knows he has good reason to worry, but hasn’t decided to give up on his brother.

Additionally, he is merciful to other dark creatures too. He beats the tar out of hyenas but doesn’t kill them. He rescues Zazu from Scar’s mouth. He scolds Simba but he does that, and more, to teach him. So what Mufasa is teaching us, according to what I just showed you the story says, is that A Good King, A Good Man (Lion, whatever) Is:

Authoritative - Makes decrees and makes decisions and yes, tells others what to do. Creates the structure his people live in.

Kind/Humble - Shows the same level of casual friendship to a revered shaman-recluse as he does a little self-important majordomo. (Humble because he’s not afraid to admit when he’s afraid if it’ll help his son.)

Teaches - Takes time out of the day to pass on what he’s learned to someone who is going to take his place—he’s not hoarding his own position or gatekeeping his life-experience-expertise. He’s not finding his identity in how he has this wealth of information that causes people to need him; he gives it away freely, purposefully.

Protects - Is willing to endanger himself and go to the trouble of defending creatures that are weaker than himself.

Shows Mercy - See Scar and the hyenas, who deserve death, but he doesn’t give it to them.

Prioritizes Family - The time he’s taking out of the day is for his son. And he follows up with his recluse of a brother instead of going, “that’s Scar, I know he don’t care about nobody but himself, his loss, not my problem.” And he extends trust to that brother, which is really just an example of gift-giving to a family member who’s done nothing to keep that trust.

Has Faith - Mufasa makes a point of not answering Simba’s question about “Will you always be there for me,” with just himself. He could’ve. Many parents do. Many parents are tempted to, to show their love. “Yes. You’ll always have me. I’ll always be there to answer your questions; I’ll always protect you, I’ll always be what you can count on, you’ll always find a need fulfilled in me.” But Mufasa doesn’t take that bait. He gives Simba an answer that is not “himself-based.” Not selfish. “Look at the stars.” I don’t care what ya’ll say. Mufasa has faith in something outside of himself. He says “and so will I,” but that’s after contextualizing himself within “something bigger than us.” (And oh my gosh, he doesn’t even answer with, “let me give you a lesson you’ll need for your whole life.” He doesn’t even take credit for this faith, for himself. He gives his own father the credit.)

And really, all of those traits can be summarized with the phrase: Lives His Life Sacrificially For Others.

That’s what a leader, a good father, a king, a good man, does. And pay attention: That is what Simba is supposed to be. Simba is supposed to be Mufasa. That’s who Simba really is, that’s where he’s supposed to go. There is a “real you.” But you have to agree with it and accept it, even though your natural bent is to give in to the illusion that you “don’t have to be that, you can choose who you are.”

Yeah, sure, in a sense you can reject Who You Really Are. You can spend your whole life playing pretend, like you’re not That. But you’ll be doing just that: playing pretend. Unfulfilled. Dissatisfied. Running from the misery that is the natural response to your silly game of pretend. Insisting that “there is no misery, this is what I want.”

Okay. Sure it is.

I’ll save Simba for another post.

The point is, Mufasa is a template for who Simba Really Is. Look at those traits. When it’s Simba’s turn to exemplify those traits, does he?

Act I: Is he authoritative? He tells characters what to. And he makes his own decisions—sometimes for good, sometimes bad. For example, he won’t let Zazu deter him from going to the elephant graveyard, so that’s a bad decision, but he does choose to go back and help Nala instead of running to save himself. Authoritative and protective. But it’s all misplaced because he doesn’t “Live His Life Sacrificially For Others.”

Act 2: He’s not. Timon and Pumbaa tell him to do something and he goes along with it. Timon and Pumbaa claim an ancient tradition and his father’s lesson is stupid and Simba goes along with that. He’s no longer making decisions of his own accord, for anything but his own comfort.

The idea is, in Act 1, you see Simba has the same traits as Mufasa, budding inside of him. But they’re all misdirected, and they’re all twisted, because they’re missing one key ingredient: he’s supposed to use those traits in the context of “Live His Life Sacrificially For Others.” Simba doesn’t want to do that. Simba wants to do whatever he wants.

Sure, there’s a part of him that combines that motive with “I want to be like my dad.” But that part dies on the vine and turns sour when his father dies saving him.

So then in Act 2, not only is Simba clinging to “I’m going to live life all my way,” but he’s changed what that means by pushing the nugget of “I want to be like my dad/I WANT TO BE WHO I REALLY AM” completely away. Because it’s too hard, and he’s got shame tangled up in it.

And worse—he starts doing basically the opposite of all of Mufasa’s traits, all of the traits that make him Who He Really Is. He’s not prioritizing family—he’s abandoning them. He’s not protecting others—he runs from the idea of going back to help Nala. (tiny glimmer of it still being inside him because he does try to protect Pumbaa from her.) Kind and humble? No. It’s unkind to tell your best friend you won’t help her because you’re afraid. Humble, no, because humility is thinking of yourself less, not thinking less of yourself.

Ask the question. When Simba’s living in the jungle with Timon and Pumbaa, is he exemplifying any of the traits of Who He Really Is? Or is he doing his best to bury that?

But then after Mufasa reminds him of who he Really Is, and Rafiki shows him how to get his past out of the way so he can accept it, Simba goes back. Into Act 3 we go

Now. Does Simba exemplify Mufasa’s traits? Does Simba start becoming Who He Really Is? There’s not a lot of time left in the movie. Look at the traits, see if he does.

Authoritative? Yep, comes up with the plan to break in and get to Scar, doesn’t back down from the confrontation.

Kind and Humble? Yeah, he willingly admits the truth (he thought it was true) that makes him look bad to give his mom closure. He’s kind to Nala and to Timon and Pumbaa, admits his mistakes, when they come to help him. Hugs the old shaman who cracked him in the skull with a stick—just like Mufasa hugged Rafiki to show us kindness and humility at the beginning of the movie.

Teaches? We don’t really see an opportunity for him to do that yet at this point in the story and his life, give me a break.

But protects? You bet. That’s why he’s there for the confrontation in the first place. Shows mercy?

Yep.

Because he’s not like Scar. He knows who he is. THE POINT.

And when he runs in for the big confrontation, he doesn’t immediately leap on Scar and rip him to pieces. Even though the storytellers make sure to show us he clearly wants to.

Instead, he runs up to his mother to see if she’s all right and show her that he is. And again, he tells her the truth because that’s what she needs even if it’s not what she wants, and he’s learned not to run from what he’s “done.” And faith in something bigger than himself?

Yeah. His father’s voice comes through the clouds just before he decides to roar and claim his title. Through the clouds. Because that whole “we’re a part of something bigger, something more important than ourselves,” was always what he was missing. He was just thinking about himself.

And all of this is because Mufasa is the example of Who Simba Really Is: Lives His Life Sacrificially For Others. That’s Mufasa.

That’s Mufasa, in the story of The Lion King. That’s his purpose as a character, that’s who he is.

So now if you make a movie that’s just about him, what you should be doing is showing how he got there. How he accepted who he Really Is instead of choosing who he wants to be, on his own. And you should make his father, and learning humility, an enormous part of that. Because self-sacrifice is such a pillar of his character. It’s the whole thing.

What you should certainly not be doing is telling a story that ends with finding self-worth or a kid who makes a name for himself. I repeat: if the Mufasa live action movie ends with Mufasa doing anything that revolves around self, they got him wrong and they set him up nonsensically for the next movie.

He should have to decide whether or not he wants to believe his own father, because of that one line, “let me tell you something my father told me.” That shows that he accepted his father’s lesson. And what was his father’s lesson about? Faith. In something BIGGER THAN YOURSELF. So then Mufasa grows up to be a character who lives his life sacrificially for others, and you can trace the roots back to that: “I learned a lesson about something bigger than myself from someone who was not myself, and I humbly believed and accepted that lesson.”

I mean jeez, the line is: “LOOK AT THE STARS.” Whenever you feel alone. Whenever you’re wrapped up in who you are and who you’re not and failure and the idea of what you want to be, knock it off. Quit looking at yourself and look at something bigger than you. And then you’ll get “Understanding of Who You Really Are”—no matter what mistakes you’ve made, no matter how you’ve failed, no matter what your circumstances are—thrown in.

…Of course, the Lion King remake ruined him anyway by having the point be “I’m not worthless.” And that was never the point. But whatever. I’m rambling now. You get the idea.

Mufasa is exactly what he needs to be for the original The Lion King. He’s exactly what he needs to be for Simba’s story. Mufasa is awesome.

[metalmachination]

push that stupid bot off a cliff. details abt dog beneath the cut

holy shit watch out for the words

"dog" is a later model of the DCA, part of a group that was mass-produced for a short period. he uses the same base code & design, but he's lost the majority of his original characteristics from repeated rebuilds and heavy modding. he's a heel for a bot fighting ring.

once made for much lighter showbiz, dog uses his loud announcer's voice to hype up fights and taunt the audience. his job is to make them hate him, it's all part of the show.

outside of the ring, all that put-on energy and bravado vanishes. sirius avoids talking and direct eye-contact, his pupils always looking up and away in any direction other than the person who's addressing him. it tends to give him a sneering, sarcastic look, even if the rest of his face is entirely immobile. his passive-aggressive remarks and constant deflections don't help.

he's an antagonist(*?) in a fic im working on, but its not in any kind of presentable state yet. i'll be honest. its dca/reader. my bad

as a bonus for reading this far: here's a part of (another) dca design. he's in the same universe

[girlbeyondthegrave]

I Watched Beetlejuice Beetlejuice a Third Time: More Things I Noticed

Here’s my previous list for those that haven’t read it. Enjoy!

A lot of people on this post I made thought that the dog in the MacArthur Park sequence was Taco from the Ghosthouse segment where Beetlejuice appears in the audience. I am sad to report this is not the case. Taco is a chihuahua, and the dog that appears is more of a terrier. However, some people on Reddit wonder if the dog is the one that ran out in front of the Maitlands’ car and killed them. I haven’t rewatched the first movie yet to check.

When Beetlejuice stitches Lydia’s mouth shut, she’s more exasperated than afraid. She literally tries to yell, “COME ON!”

Beetlejuice looks so offended on Lydia’s behalf when Rory calls her codependent. Like, “Is he serious right now? Get him, babe!”

Beetlejuice appearing before Delia can finish summoning him furthers the eavesdropping theory I made in my earlier post, and if we go off that theory, we can explain by Beetlejuice wasn’t that bothered by being summoned away at the wedding. He’s overheard Lydia’s desire to take her relationships slow and her reluctance to marriage. (Which is most definitely because of him and the fact that the last living person she loved tragically died—even if their relationship was over before that point.)

In the film, Beetlejuice is the ONLY person that agrees to help Delia find Charles, which we see her do at the end of the movie. This means that Beetlejuice kept his word and helped Delia, and he didn’t keep her away from Charles after the wedding fell through.

“MacArthur Park” plays when the studio intros roll, during the wedding sequence, and the end credits—three times when we have three different iterations of Beetlejuice and Lydia’s dynamic, fun fact. This is meant to be their song, and although the song is about a doomed relationship, this part sticks out to me: “After all the loves of my life / You’ll still be the one.” It doesn’t matter if Beetlejuice gets the timing right. It doesn’t matter if Lydia marries him. He considers her “the one.” He’s always going to wait for her, as conveyed by “Right Here Waiting.”

Astrid opens pages about violation 699 and summoning sandworms via trapdoors. I understand that was meant to “foreshadow” later events and explain why she knew how to do those things, but the terms for 699 are barely on-screen, so it’s hard to catch the part where it lays out how bringing Lydia illegally into the afterlife makes her contract null and void.

When Delores appears at the church, there’s a huge gust of wind, and the Handbook moves, but NOTHING ELSE MOVES with that precision until Delores moves Lydia away from the altar. This is kind of a stretch, but I personally think it’s possible that Beetlejuice saw Delores, and he purposefully sent the book in Astrid’s direction. If we go off my eavesdropping theory, he clearly knows Astrid is a smart girl. Plus, he stopped her from getting to the book earlier, so he knows it’s a threat.

When Beetlejuice has a dramatic entrance or exit, it’s very intentional. He does a whole dramatic couple’s therapy bit for Lydia and Rory. He does the earthquake through the model with a slow rise from the smoke. But we’ve also seen him appear in straightforward ways, too, like how he appears randomly to spook Delia. Beetlejuice controls his entrances and exits, and so his dramatic exit at the end is intentional. He allows Lydia to send him away. He makes a big show of it. Lydia has been manipulated by Rory for years. He’s tried to control her and stifle her. When Beetlejuice lets Lydia send him away and makes a big show of it, he’s demonstrating the amount of control he’s giving to Lydia. He goes because SHE wants him to, not because he can’t stop her from saying his name.

(Editing to say that this post confirms the dog is Tim’s dog.)

[derinwrites]

How can I make money writing fiction?

I'm gonna be straight with you. There is no guarantee that you'll make enough as an independent writer to make it worth your time. You very well might -- I make a liveable wage as an independent writer -- but many don't. Most writers I know also have a job. And luck plays a big part in it.

If you're interested in going forward in spite of this, you have two main options for monetisation open to you, and you are going to have to pick one. I call them the sales model and the sponsorship model, and you are going to have to pick one.

The sales model involves writing stories and selling them to readers. You can put books up on Amazon or Smashwords, sell them direct from your own website, enlist the help of a traditional publisher to handle that for you and let them decide where to sell, whatever -- the point is that your money is made from the sale of books to readers. If you go with a traditional publisher, you're using this model (though they will give you some of the money ahead of time in the form of an advance). Most indie authors also use this model, publishing through draft2digital, Ingram Spark, direct through Amazon, whatever. I've never relied on the sales model and can't give you any advice on how to do this, but Tumblr is full of indie authors who probably can.

The sponsorship model involves soliciting small amounts of money from various readers over time. This is ideal for web serials, and it's what I use. I use Patreon, which is designed specifically for this purpose, but you can use other sites such as ko-fi. This model involves providing regular content for free, with bonuses for those who support you.

"Can't I do both? Sell books and have a Patreon?" You absolutely can! I know several indie authors with a Patreon. I sell my completed books as ebooks and will eventually sell them as paperbacks. But your time and attention is limited, and so is your audience's, and you're going to have to half-arse one of these in order to have enough arse to whole-arse the other. You're going to make a lo of decisions that benefit either the sponsorship model or the sales model, not both. So pick your primary income source early and commit.

I can only advise on writing web serials and using the sponsorship model, so I'll go ahead with that assumption. If you want to make a liveable wage doing this, not only will you need luck, you'll also need patience. This is not a fast way to build a career. at the end of my first year of doing this, I had one single patron, and they were a real-life friend of mine. When I reached an income of $100/month, I threw a little party for myself, I was so happy. It had taken such a long time and was so much work. I reached enough to cover rent/mortgage after I'd been doing this for more than four years. It's a long term sort of career.

Here are some general tips for succeeding in this industry, given by me, someone with no formal training in any of this who only vaguely knows what they're talking about:

Have a consistent update schedule and STICK TO IT

The #1 indicator for stable success in this industry (aside from luck, which we're discounting because you can't do much about that) is having a consistent update schedule. Your readers need to know when the next chapter is coming out, and it should be coming out regularly. Ideally, you should have no breaks or hiatuses -- if you're in a bus crash or something, that might be unavoidable, and your readers will understand if you tell them, but if you're stopping and starting a lot for trivial reasons, they WILL abandon you. You can't get away with that shit if you're not Andrew Hussie, and I'm pretty sure Andrew Hussie doesn't message me for career advice on Tumblr. If you find you need a lot of hiatuses to write fast enough then you're updating too often; change your schedule. A regular schedule is more important than a fast one (ideally it should be both, but if you have to pick between the two, pick regular).

2. Pay attention to your readership, listen to what they want from you

Your income is based on a pretty complicated support structure when you're using the sponsorship model. this model relies on people finding your story, liking your story, and continuing to find it valuable enough to keep paying you month after month. This means that your rewards for your sponsors should be things that they value and will continue to pay for ('knowing I'm supporting an artist whose work I enjoy' counts as a thing that they value, to my great surprise; there's a lot of people giving me money just for the sake of giving me money, so I can pay my mortgage and keep writing for them without needing a second job), but it also means supporting the entire network that attracts readers and keeps them having the best time they can with your story -- being part of a rewarding community. Because this is advice on making money, I'm going to roughly divide your readership into groups based on how they affect your bottom line:

sponsors. People giving you money directly. The importance of keeping this group happy should be obvious.

administration and community helpers -- discord moderators, IT people, guys who set up fan wikis, whoever's handling your mailing list if you have a mailing list. You can do this stuff yourself, or you can hire someone to do it, but if you're incredibly lucky and people enjoy being a part of your reader community, people will sometimes volunteer to do the work for free. If you are lucky enough to get such people, respect them. They are doing you a massive favour, and they're not doing it for you, but to maintain a place that they value, and you have to respect both of those things. My discord has just shy of 1,300 members and is moderated by volunteers. I'd peel my own face off if I had to moderate a community that large. If you've got people stepping up to do work for you, you need to respect them and you need to make sure that they continue to find that rewarding by doing what you can to make sure that the community they're maintaining is rewarding. Sometimes this means taking actions and sometimes this means staying the fuck out of the way. Depending on the circumstances.

fan artists. Once you have people drawing your characters, writing fanfic of your stories, whatever, treat these like fucking gold. Give them a space to do this, and more importantly, give them a space to do this without you in it. Fanworks are a symptom of engagement with your work, which is massively important. They are also a component of a healthy community, an avenue for readers to talk to each other and express themselves creatively to each other. Third, fanworks act as a bridge for new readers. When readers share their art on, say, Tumblr, it can intrigue new people and get them into the story. Your job in all of this is to give them the space to work, encourage them as required or invited (I reblog most TTOU fanart that I'm tagged in on Tumblr, for instance), and other than that, stay the fuck out of their way. These people are vital to the liveblood of your community, the continued engagement of your audience, and the interest of your sponsors. Some of the fan artists will be sponsors themselves; some won't be. Those who aren't sponsors are still massively valuable for their art.

speculators, conversers, theorists, livebloggers, and That Guy Who's Just Really Jazzed For The Next Chapter. Some people don't make art but just like to chat about your story. These people are a bedrock of the community that's supporting your sponsors and increasing your readership, and therefore are critical to your income stream. Give them a place to talk. Be nice to them when they talk to you. Sometimes, they'll ask you questions about the story, which you can choose to answer or not, however you feel is appropriate. They'll also want to chat about non-story-related stuff with each other, so make sure they have a place to do that, too.

that guy who never talks to you or comments on anything but linked your story to ten guys in his office who all read it now. Some of your supporters are completely invisible to you. You can't do anything for these people except continue to release the story and have a forum they can silently lurk on if they want to. But, y'know, they exist.

If you want to focus on income then these are, roughly, the groups of people that you will need to listen to and accommodate for. You can generally just make sure they have space to do their thing, and if they want anything else, they'll tell you (yes, guys, paperbacks will be coming eventually). Many people will fit into multiple groups -- I have some sponsors that are in every single one of these groups except the last. Some will only be in one group. A healthy income rests on a healthy community which rests on accommodating these needs.

3. If you can manage it, try to make your story good.

It's also helpful for your story to be good. Economically, this is far less important than you'd think -- there are some people out there writing utter garbage and making a living doing it. Garbage by what standards? By whatever your standards are. Just think of the absolute laziest, emptiest, hackiest waste-of-bandwidth story you can imagine -- some guy is half-arsing that exact story and making three times what you'll ever make on Patreon doing it. And honestly? Good for him. If he's making that much then his readers are enjoying it, and that's what matters. Still, one critical component of making money as a writer is writing something that people actually want to read. And you can't trick them with web serials, because they don't pay in advance -- if they're bored, they'll just stop. So you have to make it worth their time, money and attention, and the simplest way to do that is to write a good story.

This hardly seems mentioning, since you were presumably planning to do that anyway. It's basic respect for your audience to give them something worth their time. Besides, if we're not interested in improving our craft and striving for our best, what are we even writing for? I'm sure I don't need to tell you to try to write a good story. The reason I list this is in fact the opposite -- don't let "I'm not a good enough writer" paralyse you. The world is full of someday-writers who endlessly fuss over and revise a single story because it's not good enough, it's not perfect, they're not Terry Pratchett yet. Neither was Terry Pratchett when his first books were published. If you're waiting to be good enough, you won't start. I didn't think Curse Words was good enough when I started releasing it -- I still don't. I started putting it out because I knew it was the only way I'd get myself to actually finish something. I don't think it's all that great, but you know what? An awful lot of people read it and really enjoyed it. And if I hadn't released it, I'd have been doing those people a disservice.

Also, it taught me a lot, and based on what I learned, Time to Orbit: Unknown is much better. If I'd never released Curse Words, if I hadn't seen how people read it and reacted to it and seen what worked and what didn't, then Time to Orbit: Unknown wouldn't be very good. And it certainly wouldn't be making me a living wage, because it was the years writing Curse Words that started building the momentum I have today.

And Time to Orbit: Unknown as it is today has some serious problems. Problems that I'm learning from. And the next book will be a lot better.

So that's basically my advice for making money in this industry. Be patient, be lucky, be consistent. Value your community; it's your lifeline, even the parts of it that don't directly pay you. And try to make your story as good as you can, but make that an activity you do, not a barrier to prevent you from starting.

Good luck.

[dandelionsresilience]

Dandelion News - November 8-14

Like these weekly compilations? Tip me at $kaybarr1735 or check out my Dandelion Doodles!

1. Agrivoltaics for sustainable food, energy and water management in East Africa

“[… C]ertain crops […] thrived under the partial shade provided by solar panels. The shade also helped to reduce water loss through evaporation, leading to more efficient water usage. Additionally, rainwater harvested from the panels could be used to supplement irrigation needs.”

2. The world’s largest wildlife crossing is now standing in California

“The structure crosses a 10-lane freeway and has been built to help protect all sorts of wildlife[….] And it’s not just for fauna: some 5,000 plants grown from seed collected within a five-mile radius have been nurtured in two specially created nurseries. The bridge will be topped with wildflowers, shrubs and native grasses that will also benefit insect populations.”

3. Judge rules the military must cover gender-affirming surgery for members' dependents

“[Judge] Torresen found that [gender-affirming] surgery is indeed medically necessary and that the Defense Department had not shown that any important governmental interest was advanced by denying the coverage.”

4. Social Media Can Boost Caracal Conservation

“The team found that searches on the species doubled after the project [using “social media to educate about the caracal”] launched. […] ”The research demonstrates how a public interest in urban ecology and the global phenomenon of ‘cats on the internet’… can be harnessed to leverage conservation action.””

5. US Labor Board Bans Captive Audience Meetings to Ensure 'Truly Free' Worker Choice

“[T]he National Labor Relations Board on Wednesday ruled that employers cannot force workers to attend anti-union speeches. [… W]orkers will no longer have to take part in so-called "captive audience meetings," which employers often use as a union-busting tool and a form of coercion.”

6. Study links grazing with plant phenology and abundance

“In general, plants where caribou or muskoxen were present experienced earlier green-up and greater abundance later in the growing season. “We're used to thinking of the timing of plant availability as impacting the productivity of grazing animals, but not the reverse," Post said.”

7. Frog populations once decimated by disease mount a major comeback

“"These results provide a rare example of how reintroduction of resistant individuals can allow the landscape-scale recovery of disease-impacted species, and have broad implications for amphibians and many other taxa that are threatened with extinction by novel pathogens."”

8. California Announces Special Session To Protect Trans People

“Newsom’s directive is clear: safeguard reproductive healthcare, support immigrants, and shield LGBTQ+ people from what is viewed as existential threats to civil rights and democratic norms. […] California has a unique opportunity to set the blueprint for other states in resisting a Trump administration[….]”

9. When ‘OK, Boomer’ Means ‘Let’s Go Protest’

“Youth activists across the country recognize the efforts of their eco-minded predecessors and welcome them as mentors, role models, and collaborators in their battle against the climate crisis. […] “The idea that Boomers don’t care, he said, is “just misinformation.””

10. How Aussie Waste Warriors are Redirecting Excess Food to Those in Need

“A growing movement is working to reduce perfectly good food going to waste by redirecting it to homes and charities. [… C]haritable organisations [… are] transforming fresh produce that would otherwise have gone to waste into millions of cooked, nutritious meals for people in need each year.”

November 1-7 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)

[austinbutlerslovers]

Model Patient

Label Mature 18+

Summary You’re a high fashion model, with a fast paced life, until it all comes crashing down leaving you desperate for the gentle care of Dr. Butler.

💝Romantic Smut 💝Austin as a doctor • compassionate •caring •adoring •doting• wanting to wait• body worship• improvement of body image •nurturing• attentive • genuine care• hesitant to engage with intimacy• gentle stimulation • soft fingering •protection • lovemaking • orgasms •aftercare 🔗 Masterlist

📖 Proof Reader @purejasmine 🚨heavy mentions of e.d.• lack of self love •attention seeking behavior

Model Patient

The energy backstage is chaotic, a whirlwind of shouted instructions, last minute adjustments, and the sharp scent of hairspray filling the air. Leo, the man with the clipboard, shouts orders over the commotion, his shrill voice cutting through the noise.

“Hydrate! Models, drink water!” he yells, glancing at each of you with hawk-like precision.

You ignore him, your fingers flying over your phone as you film a quick clip for a new cosmetic campaign. The lip gloss you are given to promote shimmers under the harsh backstage lights. You pout at the camera, flashing a practiced, sultry kiss.

—Perfect—

You post the video immediately and your heart races seeing the likes and engagement pouring in.

Before you can even set the phone down, the makeup artist is at your side, wiping off the gloss and applying another shade. The constant back and forth is exhausting, a never-ending list of demands and obligations, but you don’t dare complain.

This is the life you’ve worked for, and you’ll be damned if you let anyone think you can’t handle it.

“Stand up,” one of the assistants directs, pulling you toward the fitting station. The designer stands there, fussing over a corset that will showcase the gown you’ll be wearing. You stand still as they cinch it tighter and tighter, the pressure on your ribs growing unbearable.

You sway on your feet, exhaustion clawing at you, but you catch yourself. You don’t have time to falter. Not today.

“Sorry,” you mumble, your voice barely above a whisper as your vision blurs for a second.

By the time you are cinched the other models are already lining up at the entrance of the grand mansion, ready to walk down the closed-off Beverly Hills street for the show.

You join them, your heels clicking against the marble as you walk out the front doors, each step as practiced as your breathing.

It’s showtime.

As you reach the black pavement lined with the iconic palm trees, your adrenaline surges, masking the ache in your legs and the lightheadedness threatening to topple you.

The stretch of Beverly Drive is packed. Celebrities sit on either side of the runway in gilded chairs under the hot California sun, their eyes shaded by designer sunglasses, fans in hand. Photographers are poised at every angle, cameras raised like weapons ready to capture your every move.

This is your moment.

The music blares as you step onto the runway with a commanding presence. Your signature walk—fierce, confident, unapologetic—draws whispers and praises from the audience.

The gown’s flowing fabric catches the wind, billowing behind you like a royal train. The cameras click furiously, the rapid-fire shutters capturing every stride.

Your mind races as you walk, your jaw clenching tightly to make your cheekbones and piercing gaze sharper under the harsh sunlight.

You push harder, strutting like the ground is your kingdom and these people are mere spectators in your empire. But the ache in your stomach and the dizziness in your head grow worse.

The end of the runway looms, the finish line in sight. You reach it, striking a pose as the audience erupts into applause. The cameras flash in a blinding frenzy. For a moment, you feel invincible.

Then, the world tilts.

Your legs buckle, and the applause turns into gasps. You barely register the concerned voices or the rush of people toward you as your knees hit the pavement.

The last thing you see is the blue sky above and the white hot sun blurring into nothingness.

The first thing you notice is the light. Bright, clinical, and annoyingly sterile, it filters through your closed eyelids, pulling you from the fog of unconsciousness.

You groan softly, the sound foreign even to your own ears. Slowly, you blink, your vision swimming as you try to adjust to your surroundings.

The room comes into focus piece by piece—the white walls, the steady beeping of a heart monitor, the faint smell of antiseptic.

And then, your gaze lands on him.

He’s standing at your bedside, his posture attentive, his sandy blonde hair catching the light like a halo. He looks like an angel, his jawline sharp, his blue eyes impossibly kind, and the faintest hint of a smile plays on his full lips. Your heart rate spikes, and the monitor betrays you with a loud, insistent 

Beep, beep, beep.

He glances at the monitor, then back at you, an amused look in his eyes. “I hope that’s not because of me,” he teases, his voice smooth and warm. “Though I’d take it as a compliment if it is.”

You blink at him, disbelief cutting through the haze, your eyes darting to the name tag pinned to his white coat: Dr. Butler.

“Shit!” you curse, realizing you’re in the hospital.

The corners of his mouth twitch into a smile, clearly amused by your reaction.

“You fainted during your show,” he reveals, setting his clipboard down.

“Aside from the dehydration and a few mild scrapes from the fall, you’re stable.” he explains. His tone is calm and reassuring, clearly trying to ease your mood, but the mention of your job makes your chest tighten, shame creeping in.

“I need to go!” you panic, your voice trembling. “People are waiting on me, people are going to be talking about me—I have to do damage control—I need to fix this!”

You try to sit up, and your body protests immediately, feeling a sharp radiating ache through your limbs. 

Dr. Butler leans in, his movements calm and measured as he places a steady hand on your shoulder helping you up.

“Slowly,” he says, his voice gentle but firm, his touch grounding you. “You’ve been through a lot.”

You ignore his advice, stubborn as ever, and sling your legs over the side of the bed, attempting to stand. The instant wave of nausea makes your head spin, and your body sways dangerously.

Dr. Butler’s hands are firm on your arms, holding you steady guiding you back to the bed. His grip is gentle, keeping you anchored as your body protests against your defiance.

“This is ridiculous,” you mutter, more to yourself than to him, your voice edged with frustration.“I can’t believe I fainted. In front of everyone,” you say, the shame pressing down on you, the weight of your failure suffocating.

For a moment, you look up at him. His blue eyes are calm as they hold yours, the weight of his concern cutting through your defenses like a knife.

You hate how exposed you feel with him, but you can’t look away, utterly captivated by the sincerity in his gaze.

“You fainted because your body gave out,” he says gently, his tone steady and soft. “You’re dehydrated, undernourished, and overworked. When was the last time you ate or slept properly?”

You flinch at the question, looking away. “It doesn’t matter,” you say sharply. “This is my life. If I slow down, I’ll lose everything.”

His gaze softens, but the resolve in his expression remains. “You’re obviously someone who thrives under pressure,” he says, his voice steady as his eyes look over you, assessing your condition. “But even someone as strong as you needs to listen to their body.”

His words break through your defenses, even though you don’t want them to. You grip the edge of the bed, your knuckles white, as a wave of frustration and shame washes over you.

His words hang heavy between you, his eyes never leaving yours. There’s no judgment in his expression, only quiet understanding and something gentler—something you’ve never experienced before—compassion.

It’s disarming, seeing the unfamiliarity of the warmth in his gaze. You’re used to scrutiny, admiration, even jealousy, but never this. It’s not pity or condescension—it’s genuine compassion, and it catches you completely off guard.

“When was the last time you allowed yourself to rest?” he asks, his tone firm but gentle, his gaze searching yours as if willing you to tell the truth.

You want to snap back, to shrug off his words, but his sincerity touches you. For a moment, you’re not a flawless model expected to be perfect—you’re just you. And he’s looking at you like he actually sees you.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but as you exhale, your breath shudders as if everything you’ve been holding in—stress, exhaustion, fear—rushes out in that single moment. 

His gaze is steady and patient, as he smiles softly. “That’s a start,” he says gently, his tone warm.

Your lips twitch, almost forming a smile, but before you can say anything, he reaches over to collect his clipboard.

“Normally, I wouldn’t do this,” he says slowly, “but I want to make sure I stay updated about your condition. I know your schedule is hectic, so I’ll leave my number with your manager so have her call me if—”

“Give me your number right now,” you cut him off, your tone sharp but resolute. You don’t want him filtered through your agent you need to have him directly.

His brows lift in surprise, then his smile returns, this time softer as you see a hint of admiration in his eyes. “Alright,” he says with a small nod.

He flips to the last page of your chart, pulling a pen from his coat pocket, and scribbles his phone number down. He tears the piece off neatly and hands it to you. Without hesitation, you fold it and quickly tuck it into your palm, as if holding something fragile, something precious.

“Thank you,” you say, the words quieter than you intend, but they carry the weight of your appreciation. 

You feel something stir in your chest—gratitude, yes, but something else too, something you’re not ready to name.

Dr. Butler stands up tall, slipping the clipboard under his arm. “Now that you’re awake, I’ve got some phone calls to make.” He explains. “Your team has a car waiting downstairs, so I’ll get started on your discharge paperwork.”

You nod, feeling the exhaustion settling in again, but you still manage to straighten your posture. “Thank you… for everything Dr. Butler…. —I mean it.” You say with sincerity.

His eyes soften as he looks at you, and for a moment, the air between you feels charged, though neither of you speaks it aloud. Instead, he tilts his head slightly, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Take care of yourself for me,” he says, his voice quieter as he softly smiles. 

You nod again, clutching the folded piece of paper in your hand. “I will,” you promise, even though you’re not entirely sure how.

As the door closes behind him, you’re left sitting there, feeling lighter than you have in a long time, the piece of paper burning softly in your palm with an unspoken promise. 

Something stirs in you���a feeling you can’t quite name but refuse to ignore. It’s unfamiliar, unsettling, and yet, for the first time in forever you feel calm.

Dr. Butlers number is stored permanently in your phone, the folded piece of paper he wrote it on tucked safely in the small drawer of your vanity.

But life moves at an unforgiving pace for you. They blame your collapse on heat stroke—something palatable, something relatable—and it gains sympathy the world over.

But sympathy isn’t what matters…notoriety is, and your perseverance becomes the buzz on everyone’s lips and within days, you’re diving headfirst back into the chaos of your career.

There are campaigns to shoot—luxury brands that demand nothing less than perfection.

Relentless scheduling, each hour meticulously planned leaving no room for error.

Evenings filled with glamorous galas and ceremonies where you’re expected to dazzle, pose, and exude effortless elegance, always flawless under the scrutinizing gaze of cameras and critics alike.

Fashion shows in other cities come next, with back-to-back fittings, rehearsals, and appearances that blur together in a haze of adrenaline and exhaustion.

The weeks pass in a relentless rhythm. Every minute of your day is claimed by something or someone. The pressure builds like a vice around your neck, and though you’re aware of the toll it’s taking, you push harder, convinced you have no other choice.

When you finally come home one evening, the quiet feels oppressive. The sleek, modern lines of your beachfront house feeling almost sterile. 

You toss your purse on the counter in the kitchen and place your  hands on the cool marble, your body trembling.

Your stomach twists painfully and you dig through your purse, pulling out a bottle of painkillers to dull the familiar pounding in your head.

Swallowing one with a sip of filtered water, you lean heavily on the counter, hoping for relief.

Instead, the medication makes your stomach churn, the pain clawing at you, sharp and unforgiving, leaving you dizzy and lightheaded.

The room tilts slightly, as you grip the edge of the counter to steady yourself.

Your mind races, panic swelling in your chest as you fumble through your purse for your phone. You scroll through your contacts without hesitation knowing exactly who you need to call.

The phone rings twice before his calm, familiar voice greets you. “Dr. Butler.”

Your voice is shaky, your words tumbling out in a rush. “It’s me. I—I feel awful. I can’t stand, my head’s spinning, and I just… I don’t know what to do.”

His tone softens immediately hearing your panic. “Okay, slow down,” he says gently. “Tell me what’s happening. Have you eaten today?”

“Not really” you admit, your voice small. “I haven’t had time. I didn’t think it was that bad, but now that I’m home… I feel like I’m going to pass out.”

There’s a brief pause before he speaks again, his voice soothing. “It’s alright. You’re going to be okay. Do you have any orange juice, or maybe piece of fruit of candy there?” He asks.

“I haven’t been home in a few weeks but… I …I think I have juice,” you say, glancing weakly toward the fridge.

“Good. Drink a small glass, slowly,” he instructs.

Despite your panic, you manage to open the fridge, your hands trembling as you shakily pour a glass of orange juice. 

The cold liquid soothes your dry throat, and as the sugar begins to settle in your system, the dizziness starts to fade allowing you to take a deep breath.

“Do you make house calls?” you ask, half-joking starting to feel a bit better.

You can hear the smile in his voice as he answers, “I do.” His voice as comforting as ever.

“I think I need one,” you admit honestly, his soothing presence feeling like the only thing capable of cutting through the overwhelming chaos you’ve been drowning in lately.

“Where do you live?” he asks and instead of answering, you immediately send him your location.

He pauses as he receives it, his voice steady as he replies, “I’ll be there in an hour.”

You unpack your suitcase and shower with your little spike of energy and slip into a satin camisole with matching shorts and exactly one hour later, the doorbell rings.

You walk downstairs, the excitement pounding in your chest to see him again and you steady yourself as you reach for the door handle, taking a deep breath as you open it.

Dr. Butler stands there, looking almost too good to be true. He’s wearing a long-sleeve white tee that fits him perfectly in all the right places, the soft fabric hugging his broad shoulders and defined arms giving a subtle glimpse at the sculpted muscles beneath.

His sandy blonde hair falls in loose waves, tousled perfectly by the evening breeze, and in his strong arms, he carries a set of grocery bags, that he holds with effortless ease.

“You… brought groceries?” you ask, blinking at him in disbelief.

He grins as you step aside to let him in. “I’m going to cook for you,” he confirms with a warmth that entirely disarms you.

The kindness of the gesture catches you completely off guard, and a small whimper escapes you as your hand instinctively flies to your chest. “You didn’t have to do that,” you say softly, trying to protest but your heart is already melting.

He sets the bags on the kitchen counter, glancing around your open floor plan home. 

“You have a really beautiful place,” he says, his voice warm as he takes in the view of the dark waves beyond the sleek living room.

“Thanks,” you reply, leaning against the counter. “I live alone, so… it stays clean.”

He grins and rolls up his sleeves with an effortless confidence. “Well let’s get some food in you.” He says as he begins unpacking the ingredients onto the counter. “I’m thinking something hearty and nutrient-rich—some vegetables, some bone broth—let’s replenish what your body really needs,” he says, his tone warm and reassuring.

You lean over the counter resting on your elbows as you watch him work. His hands move with practiced ease, chopping fresh vegetables and mincing herbs with precision. The rhythmic motion is mesmerizing, and the rich aroma of sautéing onions and herbs begins to fill the air.

You find yourself captivated by the way he moves—focused and sure, his forearms flexing subtly as he mixes ingredients in a pan. He’s completely unaware of how attractive he looks, the soft light from the kitchen highlighting his sharp features and the faint curve of his smile as he works.

“What are you making?” you ask, your voice softer now, curiosity breaking through the haze of your daydreaming.

“A simple vegetable and chicken soup,” he replies, glancing at you with a small smile. “It’s rich, balanced, and should help get your energy back.”

Your eyes linger on him, the kindness in his actions feels almost overwhelming, and you’re not sure how to process it. “Thanks” you say the words slipping out as though your entranced.

He grins lightly, stirring the soup. “It’s the least I can do,” he says, his blue eyes filled with affection as he briefly glances over at you.

As the rich, savory scent of his cooking fills your home, you feel a warmth you haven’t felt in weeks—not just from the food, but from the quiet, unspoken care he’s showing you. For the first time in what feels like forever, you feel grounded… you feel calm.

Seeing his final stir as he taps the ladle, you reach into the cabinet, pulling out two bowls and placing them on the counter. He fills them with the soup, letting it cool slightly, the vibrant colors of the broth and fresh herbs almost too perfect to disturb.

You stand by him at the counter to informally eat there, offering him a spoon.

You enjoy watching as he begins to eat naturally, his movements relaxed and unhurried, but you hesitate, unsure at first, but finally take a spoonful. The rich flavor hits your tongue instantly —salty, savory, delicious— everything you didn’t know you needed.

You continue to eat and the tender chicken practically melts in your mouth as the carrots and potatoes add a comforting, hearty texture. Each spoonful feels like nourishment not just for your body, but for something deeper, something you hadn’t realized was starving.

As you continue to eat together your curiosity gets the better of you as you glance up at him.

“I just realized… I don’t even know your first name,” you remark, your voice softer now, a genuine interest lacing your words.

He looks up from his bowl, meeting your gaze with that familiar calm. “My name is Austin,” he says, a small but warm smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You pause, studying him for a moment, letting the name settle. “It suits you,” you say honestly.

He grins, shaking his head. “Good because, if it didn’t, I’d have to change it.”

His lighthearted comment makes you laugh, the intimacy of the moment catching you off guard. For a moment, you forget the chaos of your life—until the realization crashes back, sharp and heavy.

The upcoming Variety shoot flashes through your mind, the pressure tightening your chest. You stop eating, abruptly placing your spoon down as your appetite is replaced by a gnawing guilt of the strict guidelines of your recent fitting.

Austin notices immediately and places his spoon down to rest his hand on your shoulder, his touch solid and reassuring.

“What’s on your mind?” he asks softly, his voice low and calming.

“I—I have this variety shoot coming up,” you admit, your voice trailing off as your eyes flicker with guilt. The words feel heavy, as though admitting them aloud solidifies the weight pressing on your chest.

He studies you for a moment, his blue eyes searching your face soft but concerned then without a word, he takes your spoon, dipping it into the bowl and carefully filling it with broth.

“Open for me,” he says gently, his tone firm yet warm as his eyes lock onto yours with quiet insistence.

Caught off guard by the tenderness of his actions, you surrender without hesitation. You part your lips, letting him feed you, the warmth of the broth sliding down your throat, soothing and comforting. 

He refills the spoon, his movements careful again, as you open your mouth without question letting him affectionately feed you.

“I picked a soup because it’s simple,” he says softly, his fingers grazing your chin to tilt your face toward him.

“For someone as strong-willed as you, I know it feels almost impossible to take a break.” He says his voice calm and thoughtful, as he spoons a little more and guides it to your lips. 

“So, when life gets overwhelming, sometimes something as basic as bone broth will help.”

He pauses, watching you swallow, then he smiles softly. “It’s just a start—” he says, his blue eyes holding yours with reassurance. “—While you adjust and figure out …how to take care of yourself the way you deserve,” he says with quiet conviction, his gaze lingering on you in a way that makes your breaths uneven.

His words cut through you like a knife, slicing through the walls you’ve built around yourself. You swallow hard, feeling entirely exposed, completely vulnerable under his gaze. His care is so genuine, so intimate, that everything he offers feels like something more—more than nourishment, more than kindness.

When he lowers the spoon to the bowl again, your resolve shatters and you reach for him, your hands pulling him toward you, pressing your lips to his in a deeply, passionate kiss.

He stills as your lips press against his and you kiss him with every ounce of your gratitude and longing for him.

His hands instinctively reach up for yours, gripping them gently as he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze.

“We shouldn’t—” he whispers, his voice barely audible, his breaths mingling with yours, his lips still close that the space between you feels unbearable.

As his eyes search yours, you see it—the way he wants you, the way every part of him seems drawn to you, like you’re impossible for him to resist.

Unable to hold back, you lean forward and kiss him again, your hands sliding around his neck, pulling him closer, making his resistance nearly impossible.

For a fleeting moment, he’s perfect—his mouth claiming yours with an intensity that feels both tender and desperate, his fingers pressing into your waist as though he never wants to let go.

Then, with a sharp intake of breath, he pulls back.

“We can’t,” he says, his voice a mix of regret and longing as he struggles to steady himself, his gaze flickering with conflict.

“Austin,” you whisper , your voice soft but commanding as you thread your fingers through his soft hair pressing your body firmly against his. “Stop talking”

Before he can respond, you pull him into another kiss, capturing his lips with a boldness that leaves him stunned. You don’t let him hold back, deepening the kiss as your hands tug gently in his hair, pressing your body harder against his.

You feel him, his restraint crumbling under the weight of his desire. His tall, strong, muscular frame is almost overwhelming against yours and as your hips brush against him you feel the undeniable hardness of him press against you making a heat flood your body.

“You want me,” you whisper against his lips, your confidence making his resistance falter.

His resolve weakens further, as you step back shrugging your camisole from your shoulders letting it slide effortlessly down your body, pooling at your feet as you slip out of your shorts with deliberate ease.

His eyes roam over your nakedness, the medical side of him evident as he assesses every part of you, but the intensity in his expression impossible to ignore, he wants you and more than just the image you maintain—he wants the real you.

“You don’t even know how beautiful you are, do you?” he asks, his voice filled with reverence as his hands betray him, caressing up your sides.

“How incredible you are,” he says, almost hushed, as his eyes meet yours, filled with an aching need to make you understand what he sees.

Your hand lifts to rest softly on his chest, “Make me feel it,” you say, your voice barely audible, raw with vulnerability as you look up at him.

“Make me believe it,” you whisper, your fingers trailing up to his collarbone, brushing the side of his neck, your touch as gentle as your voice. “Make me feel what you see in me.”

His jaw tightens, his chest rising and falling as your words hit him like a tidal wave. His eyes close briefly, as if trying to regain control, but it’s futile.

He can’t stop himself and his lips are drawn to yours in an instant, capturing them with a desperation so raw it makes your knees weak.

His kiss is intense, almost pleading, as his body presses firmly against yours. His grip is strong and unyielding as he pulls you closer his hands sliding beneath your thighs and lifting you effortlessly onto the counter.

The intensity of his touch and the hunger in his kiss, leaves no doubt—he’s determined to show you exactly what he sees in you.

In that moment, you feel like the center of his universe special and precious as his lips move against yours, his hands exploring your body.

One slides up to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing gently along your cheek, while the other trails down between your thighs.

His touch is delicate, his fingers tracing soft strokes along your entrance, teasing you, testing you, each featherlight pass sending waves of heat through your body.

Your breath catches as he presses in gently, his long fingers pushing in with soft care, stretching you just enough to make your entire body tense with anticipation. 

“Am I giving you what you need?” he asks, his voice low and breathless, his lips grazing your ear as his fingers find a slow, teasing rhythm that makes your slickness increase with every thrust.

“Yes” you whisper shakily as he pulls back slightly to watch.

His gaze is fixated where his hand moves between your thighs, his focus entirely on the way his fingers slide in and out of you effortlessly.

The sight seems to captivate him, his breaths growing heavier as he watches the effect he’s having on you.

“You’re so incredible,” he whispers, his voice tinged with awe and desire as the slick sounds from his skill make you tremble, your body tightening around his fingers as he pushes deeper.

When he finds a certain depth he curls his fingers just right and your back arches sharply, as a soft cry escaping your lips.

His fingers thrust steadily there, the motion precise and unrelenting, and you can feel yourself growing tighter with every stroke. Your breaths come faster, turning into soft pants as your head tilts back, the world around you going fuzzy.

“I want to give you everything you need,” he whispers, and you gasp as his thumb brushes against your clit adding another layer of sensation that makes your hips push instinctively against his hand.

His lips kiss the curve of your neck as his free hand steadies you, gripping your waist firmly, holding you in place as he continues to work you to a climax with his fingers.

You can’t stop yourself as your head falls back, your eyes squeezing shut as your cries of pure ecstasy fill the air. He increases the pace his fingers stretching and filling you as our body responds instinctively, tightening around his fingers, amplifying every thrust drawing desperate moans from your lips

His thumb circles your clit in time with your cries and the tension begins building until your breaths turn frantic.

His lips find yours again, swallowing your moans as he kisses you deeply, his hand never faltering. The quick thrusts of his fingers send you spiraling, the pleasure overtaking you completely until you’re lost in it.

Your cries muffle against his mouth as your body trembles uncontrollably feeling the tension in your body snap like a tightly coiled spring.

The rush of pleasure is overwhelming, your orgasm radiating outward in pulses so intense it feels like your body might come apart. Your thighs clench around his hand, as the sensations courses through you, leaving you breathless and weightless all at once.

Austin’s hand slows immediately, his touch now gentle and soothing, letting you ride out the waves of pleasure.

“Breathe,” he says softly, his lips brushing against your temple before he presses a tender kiss there. “You’re okay….” His tone is calm and steady, grounding you as a shiver runs through you, the weight of emotion making your chest tighten.

His arm wraps securely around your waist, holding you steady as your body quivers against him. His touch is so tender, it feels as though he’s caring for your heart and your body in a way you didn’t realize you needed.

His hand moves up to cradle your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek as his eyes hold yours with a mixture of awe and affection.

“You’re so beautiful,” he softly smiles, the sincerity in his words soothing you as he gazes deeply into your eyes, his expression tender and full of affection making you smile in return.

He leans forward, brushing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth, his lips warm and reassuring as he slowly withdraws his fingers.

You shudder at the loss, but he pulls you closer, wrapping his strong arms around you protectively.

He holds you for some time like a fragile, precious thing, his arms cradling you with a gentleness that makes your feel safe and warm.

You savor the moment, pressing your face against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as he readjusts his arms around you, pulling you even closer.

“Will you stay?” you ask, your breath shaky, exhaustion creeping into your limbs and making you feel heavier in his embrace.

He hesitates, his jaw tightening slightly as he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze. “I shouldn’t,” he says softly, the conflict clear in his voice.

You reach for his hand, guiding it over your heart, holding it there as if to anchor yourself to him. “Please,” you whisper, near begging—something you’ve never had to do for anyone before.

He swallows hard, his eyes searching yours for a long moment. Finally, he nods, his resolve breaking. “I’ll stay… until you fall asleep.”

The relief and gratitude wash over you, and you smile—a genuine smile, full of warmth and happiness something you haven’t felt in a long time.

He lifts you effortlessly into his strong arms, his hold making you feel both secure and cared for as you guide him to your bedroom.

When he lays you down gently, you feel the cool sheets against your skin, and he adjusts the blanket over you with the same tenderness he’s shown all evening.

As he sits on the edge of the bed, his hand brushes your hair back from your face, his touch lingering for just a moment. “Get some rest,” he whispers, his voice low and steady.

You reach for his hand again, your fingers curling around his. “Stay close,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He smiles down at you, his expression warm and reassuring. “I’m not going anywhere until you rest,” he promises, his words like a balm to your weary soul and as your eyes drift shut, his hand remains in yours, grounding you as you finally let sleep take over.

You wake slowly, your senses gradually pulling you out of the heavy haze of sleep. The faint sound of a phone buzzing piercing the quiet of the night, persistently lighting up the room. Blinking groggily, you realize it’s coming from the nightstand beside your bed.

Turning your head, Austin is lying next to you sound asleep. His chest rises and falls steadily, his face relaxed in a way that makes him look almost boyish and a small smile creeps onto your lips, the sight of him still there bringing a warmth to your chest.

The phone buzzes again, its glow illuminating the room for a moment before fading. You watch him stir slightly, his brows furrowing and his lips parting in a soft, sleepy sigh as his hand reaches instinctively for the sound.

His eyes flutter open, and the panic sets in almost immediately as his grogginess clears.

“I—I have to go,” he mutters, his voice raspy and urgent, as though the weight of reality is crashing back onto him.

He sits up quickly, running a hand through his sandy blonde hair, looking through the missed calls flooding his phone.

—But you’re not ready to let him leave—not yet.

“Austin,” you say softly, sitting up the sheets slipping from your body as you reach for him.

Your hand brushes against his arm, and when he turns to you, his eyes are filled with hesitation.

“Stay with me,” you whisper, your voice low and full of need.

You tug gently at his arm, and he hesitates for only a second before setting his phone back down on the nightstand. “I can’t stay much longer,” he says, his tone conflicted.

You smile, a playful edge in your voice as your hands slide to the hem of his shirt. “Then don’t waste our time,” you reply.

He doesn’t even resist as you pull it over his head, revealing his broad, muscular chest and sculpted abs.

Your fingers trail over him, admiring the strength in his body, the warmth of his skin under your touch. He watches you with lustful eyes, his breaths quickening as your hand moves lower, undoing the button of his jeans and unzipping them with care.

You tug his jeans and boxers down together, freeing him completely, and your breath catches at the sight of his substantial cock, hard and ready.

Your fingers trail over his tip and down the length of his shaft, the heat of him and the way it twitches under your touch sends a shiver through him, his breath catching as he watches you.

Before he can say anything, you lean over to your bedside drawer, sifting through until you find a condom that will fit his impressive size. The quiet sound of the wrapper tearing fills the room, as his eyes remain locked on yours.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks, his voice low and heavy with emotion, his breath hitching as your fingers brush against him carefully rolling the condom into place.

You meet his gaze, your hand lingering on him as you whisper, “I’ve never been more sure.”

Whatever resistance he had left disappears entirely as he pulls you into his lap, his lips finding your neck, kissing softly before his need for you takes over.

His hands slide up your sides, cupping your breasts as his lips travel lower, leaving a trail of heat on your skin.

When his mouth finds your nipple, he sucks gently, drawing sharp gasps from you as his other hand squeezes the curve of your breast. The gentleness of his touch sends shivers through you as your fingers tangle in his hair, holding him closer.

“I want you so much,” he whispers against your skin, his voice thick with need, the raw longing in his tone making your heart ache.

“I want you too,” you whisper breathlessly, your voice trembling with both desire and anticipation.

He lifts his head, his blue eyes meeting yours for a lingering moment filled with longing, and without breaking the connection, he gently lays your back against the bed, his hands never leaving your body as he moves over you.

One of your legs bends instinctively, your knee raising to accommodate him as he positions himself, the other leg wrapping around his waist.

His hand cups your jaw soft and reassuring as he presses the tip of his cock against you and with a careful insistent push, he thrusts into you.

His cock stretches you slowly, his movements unhurried as you gasp, your body arching to accommodate his size.

His free hand slides along your thigh, gripping gently as he begins to move, the rhythm steady and controlled as he eases in inch by inch until each thrust fills you completely.

You softly moan for him as his eyes remain steady on yours, his hand caressing your cheek, while other traces the curve of your hip as he thrusts into you gently.

“You’re so perfect,” he whispers, his thumb caressing your jaw. “So beautiful, so incredible.” He says his words tumbling out savoring the way you feel together.

You grip his shoulders tightly as he thrusts into you harder, the tension winding tighter as your hands slide down his back, your nails pressing lightly into his skin.

“You feel— so good to me.” You whisper the words spilling from your lips with raw sincerity, and they spur him on, a groan escaping his throat as his hands tighten their hold on you.

His lips press against your throat, his breath warm and uneven as the pleasure between you builds into something unstoppable.

Your soft moans only push him further, his body responding completely to your every sound.

He softly pants against your neck, lost in bliss, his eyes closed, his breaths warm on your skin. His lips press to your neck, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses as his groans break and falter, his control slipping as he nears release.

You cling to him, your hands sliding to the back of his neck, holding him tightly against you. “Make me feel —how much you want me,” you whisper, your voice trembling as your own orgasm begins to build.

He clenches his jaw, a deep groan vibrating through him as he fights to hold back. Slowing his thrusts, he shifts to long, deliberate strokes, each one reaching the spot that sends jolts of pleasure through you. The tension coils tightly inside you, your breath hitching with every deep, purposeful thrust.

“You’re perfect to me,” he confesses, his voice rough and strained as he watches your face, his hips beginning to move faster as your soft whimpers fuel him. His rhythm becomes more urgent, his thrusts hitting harder, sharper, until your release crashes over you.

You cry out, your head tilting back as waves of pleasure course through you, your walls clenching tightly around him. The sensation pushes him over the edge, his groans deep and guttural as he buries himself inside you, his cock twitching as he comes.

It feels so good it borders on unbearable, your chest tightening as tears prick the corners of your eyes. He rides your though your orgasm and you cling to him, your fingers gripping his shoulders, needing something solid to ground yourself as your release consumes you.

When the intensity finally begins to fade, you feel raw, exposed, but so utterly content that a soft sob escapes you. The pleasure lingers, warm and soft, as your body melts into his, the aftershocks making you shudder gently in his arms.

He doesn’t stop holding you, his hand soothing as his lips brush against your temple. “You’re okay,” he whispers tenderly, his other hand sliding to your face, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek as he steadies you.

You nod weakly against him, overwhelmed by how deeply he’s unraveled you, feeling a flood of gratitude and emotion that makes tears spill silently down your cheeks. You bury your face against his chest, his compassion grounding you in a way you you’ve never known.

His head rests lightly against yours as his arms hold you securely, his breaths gradually evening out.

Then with carefulness, he slowly slides his large cock out of you, the loss leaving you momentarily speechless.

You shudder, your body adjusting to the emptiness, your emotions swirling as you cling to him for a moment longer.

You tilt your face up to him, your eyes locking with his as a connection passes between you, unspoken and undeniable, that neither one of you dares to name.

Gently, he shifts, rolling the two of you onto your sides, pulling you close and as you lay in his strong arms, his fingers trail against your back, soothing and steady, his warmth comforting you in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

The way he cares for you—completely and unconditionally—fills a space you didn’t realize was empty, touching a part of you that you thought no one ever could—and for the first time in what feels like forever, a sense of peace settles over you as you slowly drift to sleep in the depth of his strong and loving embrace.

🩺END

🔗 Masterlist

🏷️ Always Tag Me List

@purejasmine @burnthheparaphilia @butdaddyilovehim99 @austinbutlerfly @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @lindszeppelin @abswifey @aust-een @umika @feralgodmothers @psycheetamore @megangovier @magicovento @obsessedvibee @austiebuttbutt @faegoddessog @jessica987 @slowsweetlove @hardcoredisneynerd @finley-08 @thegabbyh @thefallofthedamned @buckysteveloki-me @bucking-mustangs-with-wings @shegatsby @darlingisntit @lovereadingfanfic @denised916 @shockercoco @minispice-1 @thejoywillburnoutthepain @i5uckersblog @ughdontbeboring @meetmeatyourworst @avidreader73 @xxmandaveexx @mamawiggers1980 @12joeywheelerfangirl @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha @missjadesficsreblog @gravesdiggergirl @nostalgichoya @jjubilee-fluff @stars-remain2 @ausssbutlershortstories @fuckindontknow

[inbarfink]

After all these years, ‘I Remember You’ is still one of the great highlights of Adventure Time Storytelling. And not just in the basic ‘what???? Silly children’s cartoon does something SAD??? HOLY SHIT MIND BLOWN’ way. But with the execution of that Something Sad. How it manages to pack so many Complex Emotions into just 11-minutes of television. And especially the way it utilizes the basic Adventure Time format for that purpose.

So Adventure Time is a Board-based show. Each episode has an outline pitched and written down by the writer’s room, and then this outline goes to a team of (usually) two Storyboard Artists who develop that simple outline into a full story. And with the show’s art-style deliberately eschewing staying perfectly ‘on-model’ in favor of having the animators take direct reference from how the different storyboarders draw the characters

And the show being generally extremely versatile in terms of themes and tone - AT has allowed a lot of their Storyboarders to really express themselves and their unique artistic vision as part of the Big Collaborative Narrative that is Adventure Time. 

Now, the Boarders who worked on ‘I Remember You’ are Cole Sanchez and Rebecca Sugar. These two were a Storyboarding Duo from the start of S4 and until Sugar left the AT Crew during S5, and they always struck me as a curious combination. I think really from all of the individual boarders working on AT during that time, these two really are the closest to having like… Totally Opposite Artistic Sensibilities as boarders. 

With Sugar favoring a style that is very loose and sketchy and also very rounded. Focusing on expressions and subtle body language and lighting. And being famous for going deep in depth into Big Moments of Emotional Catharsis

And Sanchez having a very clear art style that emphasizes strong silhouettes and clear lines that suggest flatness. Focusing more on major poses and the character’s positions in the space. And having just a really great eye for AT’s brand of silly humor.

Like, I almost kinda suspect these two were paired together so they can each cover for the other’s “weakspots” in writing ‘Adventure Time’. 

And there were a few episodes that did some really interesting stuff with this very contrasting pair - ‘Jake the Dog’ is another example. Giving most of the Farmworld scenes to Sugar and most of the Time Room scenes to Sanchez both plays to their personal strengths as storyboarders and helps to emphasize the strong emotional contrast between these two scenarios. 

And ‘I Remember You’ is actually kinda unique among Adventure Time episodes cause… Most episodes will have the two boarders alternate between working on the episode throughout it. Like you’d have Boarder A draw a bit and then Boarder B and then Boarder A again… But “I Remember You” is divided between Sanchez and Sugar… basically perfectly in the middle.

So the entirety of the first half of the episode was boarded by Sanchez

Until Ice King pushes Marceline and then leaves the room in shame.

And then, Sugar takes over.

And, like, even if you don’t know anything about the Behind the Scenes of Adventure Time or who Cole Sanchez and Rebecca Sugar even are - the Shift is noticeable. The shift in tone, in narrative focus, in the subtleties in which the characters are drawn. 

The entire first half of the episode has this thin veneer of just being a Silly Goofy Ice King Episode. Sanchez’s talent for Adventure Time’s brand of comedy is on full display… but there is also this underlying feeling that Something is Happening just under the surface. And these hints of the Big Emotions of ‘IRY’ expressed via Sanchez’s kinda goofy style really create this balance between putting the audience into a false sense of security that this is just a Very Normal Episode about two characters hanging out and the Tension constantly brewing in the subtext. 

And then it all comes to a blow.

And then the Shift happens. And now we are in Sugar’s court.

And this subtle shift in the artstyle and storytelling also coincide with Marceline finally openly expressing her feelings and the Reveal of Simon and Marcy's shared past. The episode changes focus from Ice King's silly antics to Marceline's feelings. Everything changes, everything in the first part of the episode gets recontextualized and... even on the most basic level, the episode is now Noticeably Different.

I would almost say that Sanchez’s half of the episode has Ice King define the tone, while Sugar’s half of the episode has Marceline define the tone. But more than anything it’s the catharsis. The reveal and release of those emotions that were building up so expertly through the Sanchez half of the episode. All of the Sugar-boarded scenes in this episode are really heartbreaking on their own, just through the tragedy of the story and Sugar’s expert knowledge of howto convey emotion in the visual medium - but it’s so enchanted by what came before it.

“I Remember You” is truly a great testament to how ‘Adventure Time’ could use every aspect of its medium to tell a great story in such a short time.

[lmskitty]

The JJk fandom has some INCREDIBLE writers and artists and I just felt like showing a bit of love so here are some of my fave Satosugu fics!!!

Audience by @c-valentino

"Three years after the KFC breakup, Satoru caves and visits his old friend late at night with a problem. They are far from what they used to be, but when he hopes they might get a second chance after all, assassins show up to hunt down Suguru."

As you like it by planetarypedxng

"Ieiri Shoko has laid down the law: the three of them will hereafter hang out only at Geto’s place, because Geto is the perfect host, and because Shoko refuses to clean up after anyone, least of all men, and because Gojo’s room always disgustingly reeks of sex.

Gojo had laughed at that, a little too loudly, perhaps, and curiously did not have a single comment about it. What can he say? The truth? That he was still a virgin?"

Falling in love is easy. Admitting it is not. By @ellionwrites

"At 20 years old - sharing an apartment and joint Jujutsu missions - Geto and Gojo are inseparable. But it takes Geto going on a first date for them to start to figure out their feelings."

Two sorcerers chillin' in a hot tub (five feet apart cause they’re not gay) by @hollow-lime-green

"Geto Suguru has almost two decades of practice pretending not to see things that are clearly there, and Gojo Satoru has a well-documented history of being the most socially-stunted motherfucker alive.

That’s how they got here.

Love is in the hands by @thequeenofsarcaasm

That’s also why neither of them know where the hell they’re going with this."

To be a woman by @sadgreekboys

"After getting kicked from his home for being queer, Geto Suguru comes across his old best friend/first love, in a gay bar. He finds a new home in him."

close your eyes (nothing changed at all) by themoonisdead

"Satoru is the strongest. She is a woman. She is not meant to be those two things at the same time.

VIRGIN GETS WRECKED BY BEST FRIEND [FREE PORN VIDS] (18++) WATCH NOW!!!!! By Daisy__dupes

"That day in xx village, suguru makes a call" -what if Suguru had called Satoru for help that day?

Over the Threshold by @fushiglow

(Satoru gets hit with a sex curse and asks Suguru to help him!!!)

4AM by damiselart

"Larger than life K-pop idol, Satoru, approaches introverted record producer, Getō Suguru, to collaborate on his debut Japanese-language studio album. They both get more out of the experience than expected — for better and for worse."

(Tattoo artist Geto and model Gojo. Hot as fuck.)

Post-It Notes by monochromevelyn

"Shoko was sick of watching her two best friends pining for each other. Don't worry, she had a plan to move things in the right direction."

The Two-Headed Calf by malneiro

"Gojo gets a knock on his door late at night: Getou is sick and Mimiko and Nanako don't know who else to turn to."

Vows to Amida Butsu -

" Gojo has a great idea. Geto thinks his classmate should at least ask him cutely instead of just announcing his intent. Consent is important, after all."

and Long Bitter Autumn - both by Daphnerunning and Galiko

"Five years after his best friend left Jujutsu High to become an evil overlord, Gojo Satoru can't sleep. And there's not THAT much difference between a butt dial and a booty call, semantically speaking."

There are so many amazing satosugu fics and most of the writers listed here have multiple incredible fics but these are just some of my absolute faves!!!

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[not-freyja]

New Zelda Game!

Okay cool, cool cool cool cool, I am calm, I am so fucking calm. Looks like Nintendo is staying true to their word that Wild is not getting another game, so now the questions are, what Link is this, where are we in the Timeline, and what information about the game itself can we pick out of these crumbs?

Whose Zelda is it anyway?

So two options:

New boy.

Legend. It’s fucking Legend again sucks to suck bro

Case for new Link and Zelda:

Less messy for the Lore

That’s it, that is the only argument

Case for Leggy boy and Fable:

LA animation style! While it can be fun to bring back older styles of animation for nostalgia/artistic reasons, that seems like a poor choice for *LOZ* games, which are always on the edge of what a game can do. Moving “backwards,” so to speak, in any aspect, would be a disservice to the franchise. However, doing it to maintain consistency for a particular character, and to use the animation style to make sure the audience knows this is the same character from LA is a very simple but effective tactic.

The map! So that shot was so BOTW and so fun, but the view we got wasn’t just recognizable as “Hyrule,” is was, down to the relative heights on the mountain cliffs against each other, the map from ALTTP/ALBW. Nintendo has never repeated a map without it being the same Link. So! Checkmate motherfuckers.

The character designs. That… that was just Legend and Fable, come on. Look at the dress. Every Zelda has a slightly different costume design, and that was hers. Look at Link. Baby boy!

I want this. Let me have it.

Timeline positioning

Okay so if we assume that this is in fact Legend, the next question becomes, “When is it?” Leggy boy currently has 5 games that are canonically his. (Triforce Heroes could be a random other Link, so while we like to say 6 we can’t *prove it.*) So. Let’s break it down.

ALTTP: canonically his first game, can’t be before this one.

Oracles: canonically happen after ALTTP, and he is very much still a child in here.

LA: the game this one is artistically modeled after. Narratively this fits nicely right after Oracles, and in the canon timeline, fits between Oracles and ALBW, so I think a whole new game being crowbarred prior to this one would be… not great for the narrative.

ALBW: This is trickier. No canon time between LA and ALBW is given, it could be a week, it could be years. It is entirely possible that Echoes of Wisdom occurs prior to ALBW, which would make it a direct sequel to LA, which makes the art style make even more sense. It could also be after?

…hang on a fucking minute, lets get the fucking map.

Left, ALTTP. Right, ALBW

Basically the same map! Duh, it’s the same Hyrule. But. BUT. Bottom right, in the lake. Do you see that?!

ALTTP: no log bridge. ALBW: Log bridge. Now, let’s look at the pretty picture from the EOW trailer.

NO FUCKING LOG BRIDGE!

This is before ALBW. Therefore, the game order for The Hero of Legend is

ALTTP, OOS, OOA, LA, EOW, ALBW, TH(maybe)

*cue manic laughter*

Lore Implications

Ganon.

There being a Ganon at all actually has me pointing my finger at the Oracle games and screaming. The TL;DR in those is that there was a plot to resurrect Ganon, each game Twinrova gets closer, but Link stops them. Now, there were also supposed to be three of those games, which means that it is entirely possible that the third unseen Oracle plot—please Nintendo let Link and Farore hang out, I am on my knees barking like a dog—could have resulted in his resurrection. This is the only explanation I have that doesn’t break the Lore or involve Time Shenanigans.

Also, Link does KO the bitch in that opening scene in the trailer. His presence is either just that—a set-up plot point—or him and Link are currently duking it out in the hole. Fun!

Link and Zelda

Now this game is going to put their relationship in the front in the “I have to save them because I love them” way that we usually see from Link’s POV.

Getting it from Zelda’s POV is going to be very interesting. We might be getting a look into her head, into her feelings and thoughts about the whole ordeal of the Legend itself. I hope so. But also, this isn’t just Link and Zelda, this is *Fable and Legend* specifically. The two that were meant to be be siblings but the dialogue that established them as such was cut from the final version of ALTTP. So. This game has the possibility to do three things

Canonize the Prince Legend thing, like they were going to do in the nineties.

Not address the topic at all, leave it nebulous.

Zelink.

None of these are bad choices, but option two is definitely the safest. Both options one and three will cause an uproar from part of the fan base. I can already see the ship wars. Please don’t do this people. Please.

The Holes 🕳️

What are they? Where did they come from? Ganon’s Trident Where do they go? No actually, where do they go? The Dark World (doesn’t make sense in the Lore)? Lorule (that would be a choice)? The Twilight Realm (I am convinced that Lorule and the Twilight Realm are the same place actually and you cannot change my mind)? Some new never seen before parallel dimension? A non-place, like a gap between realities (sexiest option)? I have no idea!

Fun!

That fucking “Fairy”

Tri? Don’t trust it. Will not trust it. Never trust that a companion in a LOZ game is what they first appear to be. Who does Nintendo take me for? A fucking amateur?!

Anyway, I am about 40% convinced that’s Link. I have evidence, but it is circumstantial.

I AM HANDLING THIS NORMALLY.

[simphornies]

Glitchy [ Vox x F!Reader ] pt. 2 (NSFW)

A/N: Was not expecting the attention the last one got. I already had a part 2 in my head as soon as I posted it. Sorry if the writing is off! I'm a bit rusty. Enjoy!

MINORS DNI

Warnings: smut, teasing, light bondage(?), oral, creampie

Velvette's fashion show was ongoing. She somehow set you up to model one of her latest pieces as the grand finale. You liked to dress up but being in front of crowds that didn't involve killing made you nervous. "C'mon bitch! Are you ready?" She switches up your hair into a fitting updo, showing off your TV wire inspired earrings. "Oh Vox is going to love this one." To be honest, you did want to tease Vox a little bit to get back at him for spying on you. Valentino sneaked you into his office while he was asleep at his desk and you saw that most of the cameras were paused on you. "Did you really put on a whole show to fuck with him?" You asked, straightening out the skirt she had you put on, "And does this outfit have to be this short. You know I don't like showing off too much skin. Gives too much to look at." Your statement made Velvette and Valentino laugh, "Babe, with a body like that you should be showing off. It's almost a crime to keep them hidden." Val slaps your ass and pushed you towards the curtain, "You're almost up, knock Vox dead. Do that move I showed you too."

You rolled your eyes at them and walked away. Val looks down at Velvette, "$100 bucks if he short-circuits." She grinned, "$100 if he gets up and they fuck later." The two shook on their deal and walked around to get to their seats.

Vox didn't typically sit for Velvette's shows but you had asked him to show up because of a piece you said you wanted him to see. The two other Vees sit next to him, "You look like you're having the time of your life, Vox." Val teased. "Fuck off, if Y/N didn't ask me to be here, I wouldn't be. Where is she anyways? I would expect her to be here considering she wants me to see this piece so bad." Velvette gasps, "Wow. So you wouldn't even show up to my show if I told you to come? I'm so hurt." Her words filled with sarcasm. "Shut up. It's almost time for her part."

Vox blinked, "What? What do you mean he-" Her finger covered his mouth and Val moved his head to look at the stage, blowing out some smoke for "effect" as you make your way down the catwalk.

You donned a gorgeous off shoulder top that showed too much, or too little as Val would say, of your cleavage. A skin tight skirt that rode up a little bit as you walked the catwalk hugged your hips. Above your skirt, the strings of your thong (that Velvette insisted you wore) peeked over adding a little extra flair. And the best part? You were of course in Vox's signature colors. You did a spin showing off the outfit and scanned the crowd. Your eyes locked with Vox's and you smirked as you thought about what Val taught you hours before. You bent over in his direction, one hand on your knee and one hand on your hip. You spun on your red bottom heels and posed one last time for the cameras, looking at Vox before leaving him with a wink. You looked away as soon as you see his screen glitch, red liquid oozing from the side of his mouth.

After the show, you put on a mesh coat. Velvette came running at you with a hug, "You did wonderful! I knew you could nail that. Have you seen the ratings?" She whipped out her phone with an article raving about the latest show with you front and center of the pictures, "The people love you! And the sales are coming in." You smiled, happy that you impressed the fashion critic herself. "Glad I could make you proud, Velv." Claps came from behind you and you turn to see Valentino and Vox, walking side by side. "Amazing work, sweetie. You nailed the tit show." He smiled, giving you a hug as well. "Thanks Val. I would never have done that move if you didn't teach me the art of captivating an audience with my tits. You're the master." You elbowed the tall sex demon. "So, did you like the show Vox?" You looked up at him, trying to make the eye contact that he wasn't reciprocating. "Come on~ Did my tits glitch you out." You teased. He cleared his throat, finally making eye contact with you with his signature smile. "I already knew you were hot, baby. I love the color combo." He gives you a hug, whispering into your ear, "Did you do that on purpose to fuck with me?" "Pfff. Me? Why would I ever do such a thing?" You spin around and pulled Velvette close to you, arm over her shoulder, "Besides, I'm not the fashion genius here. She is." Velvette gave him a teasing look and laughed, "Oh I would never! You're reading too much into it. Now shoo, Y/N and I have an afterparty to go to!"

You weren't a fan of parties but Velvette insisted you come. Well, she bribed you with some drinks. You grab a glass of wine and walked out of the club to get a breath of fresh air. As you scrolled through your phone, you see from the corner of your eye a familiar red figure walking towards you. It was the radio demon himself, Alastor. "Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting you. Quite the pleasure!" He grabs your hand to shake it, "I've seen your influence around town from the latest fashion show put on by the overlord Velvette and might I say you're quite the stunning lady." He plants a kiss on the back of your hand. You had your guards up, this was Alastor. The demon that brought down overlords as soon as he manifested into hell. What the fuck could he want from you? "Thank you for the praise." You say as you pull your hand away from him, "What can I do for you, Alastor sir?" You back up slightly, taking steps back towards the entrance of the club hoping Velvette could see the predicament you're in. "Nothing too much. I just have a couple of...questions for you, my dear!" He grins menacingly, "You seem to be in close quarters with Vox, would you like to make a deal?" You scoff, "A deal? I'm not stupid. I'm not making a deal with you. What do you want?" "Would you like to go on a little outing with me?" "A what." "An outing! A gorgeous doll such as yourself must be exhausted having to deal with that annoyingly loud picture show." He was talking about Vox, "I could show you a better time. I can give you aid taking down all those who you wish if you permit me." Before you could answer, a glowing blue circle appears at your feet plunging you down to hell knows where. You land in Vox's lap, his face glitching with rage. "That fucker--Thank the seven rings I was watching around the club you were at." "Vox I-" "That little prick! I'll show him he shouldn't mess around with the Vees! That motherfucker-" "Vox." "-is lucky I wasn't there!" He chuckles, his one eye going crazy at the thought of Alastor hurting you. "Vox!" You yell, finally getting his attention. He seemed to have forgotten you were still in his lap in his fit of rage. He looks down at you, blushing a bit as you were still in the clothes from the fashion show. "Can you let me down please. Your little desk is cramped and I can't get myself off without getting tangled in your cords." Vox, in a panic, backs his chair up, a cord getting caught in one of the wheels and throwing you both back. He catches your head with his hand as to not hurt it. "Fuck. My bad. I was ju-" He cuts himself off noticing the position you're both in and the state of your clothes. He was on top of you and your top got yanked down a bit which meant your tits are now in full view. Not to mention the fact that you somehow got wrapped up in his cables. Him glitching at the sight of you made you smirk, "You like what you see? Or are you too angry at the radio demon talking to me to notice anything?" You cockily said before laughing, pulling your top up to put your tits away, "Now can you help me out of your cables, please?" Vox didn't move. He was frozen. You thought that maybe he short circuited. "Hello? Vox?" You place your hand on his screen, trying to knock him out of his daze, "Vox are you in the-" Before you could say another word he pins your wrist down above your head as he crashes his lips on yours. You melt against his, returning his affection. You taste a faint hint of mint on his tongue as he wraps it around yours, almost battling for a spot in your mouth.

When he pulls away, you were out of breath. You watch his eyes scan your body and take in the sight. "Sorry. I couldn't help myself to you. You just look...so hot right now." He says, taking his hand off of your wrists and trying to back up to free you. Your eyes wander and notice the bulge in his pants. A dirty thought crossing your mind. "If I look so hot, why don't you do something about it." You smirk up at him, gently guiding your knee over his bulge, sending shivers down his spine. "I'm stuck Vox, helpless under you. You really going to throw this golden opportunity away for both of us?" You teased. Vox composes himself and lets out a low chuckle, the antenna on his head letting out some sparks. "You've been driving me insane all day, babe." He speaks in a low tone, his voice turning you on. You feel around above you and grab the nearest cables and tangle your wrists in it, "Show me what you can do, Vox."

He didn't hesitate to undo his bowtie. He took off your top, tossing them to the side before lifting up your skirt. He was taken aback at the thongs you were wearing, they matched his shirt. "Did Velvette put this one on you too?" He asks as he caresses your inner thigh. You purr at his touch, "Mmm...No. Those ones are mine. I got them after your confession~" "You know how to drive me crazy." He slides your thongs off and lightly drags his finger over your slit, making you shiver in excitement. "Now it's my turn to drive you crazy." His blue tongue sticks out of his screen and goes straight into eating you out, relishing your taste. You suppress your moans as to not let anybody else hear. "Be loud, this room is soundproof."

His tongue enters you and swirls around, driving you as crazy as you've been driving him. You squirm in pleasure as the overlord feasts upon you, licking up all the juices. You feel a knot forming in your stomach, your face flushing in delight, "Ah. V-Vox." You moan out, "I-I'm gonna-" He doesn't stop one bit, if anything it seems like he sped up. The knot grew tighter and tighter until you came all over his face. He pulls away, grinning as he looks at your shaking body.

"Let's go somewhere, more comfortable for you." He untangles you with ease, besides your wrists, and teleports the two of you into his already locked bedroom. He plops you down on the bed before taking his pants off, his cock leaking pre-cum. You drool at the sight of his length, "Come here." You say, still a bit out of breath, as you get on your knees for him. "Giving me orders now?" He chuckles as he got closer to your face, his cock resting on your cheek, "Is this what you want, babe?" You look up at him with lust filled eyes before you take him into your mouth, tongue wrapping around his length as you your head up and down. He grabs your hair, making sure it stays out of your face as he looks down at you sucking him, "What a good girl," He purrs, caressing your cheek. You pick up your speed, eager to taste him. Vox grunts in pleasure, thrusting his hips as he pushed himself deeper into you, "Make sure you take every last drop." He grabs your head and starts fucking your face deeper as he gets closer. His cock twitched before letting a load down your throat. He pulls himself out of you, your lips making a pop as he did. You open your mouth to show him what was left, closing it to swallow and opening it back up again to show him that you didn't leave a single drop. He puts his hand under your chin, "Now ass up, sweetheart." You wasted no second getting into position for him. You've been dying to take his cock ever since he confessed to you. Ever since you found out he watched you on his screens. Ever since you laid eyes on him actually. "You're drenched, babe." He grins as he rubs his tip at your entrance, "Beg." You whine and wiggle your hips, trying to see if you can slide him in yourself. He grabbed your hips firmly, slapping your ass, "I said, BEG." he demanded. "Please Vox." "Please what?" He teased his tip, pushing just a little bit in, "What do you want? Speak up." "Please fuck me senseless, Vox. Please." You pleaded in desperation. He grabs your hair, pulling your head up closer so he can whisper in your ear, "Good girl." God the way his voice changes sent shockwaves through out your body.

He enters you slowly, "I'm going to make your entire body glitch the way you made me glitch." He was relentless. Torturing you almost. He picked up his speed and started pounding into you. You moaned in delight, enjoying how rough he was with you. "Faster, please Vox." Your request filled with pleasure, "Vox. Pl-please!" He slaps your ass in response, letting go of your hair and holding your head down on the bed, "Since you asked so nicely." He kept himself at a quick pace, taking in the sight of you drooling on his sheets. He pulls out of you to flip you over, you were about to whine but him suddenly filling you back up again stopped that quick.

Your walls tightened around him, "You're so tight. Are you gonna cum for me like a good girl?" Your brain was turning into mush, rendering you unable to form a real response. The only sounds coming from your mouth were ineligible slurred words and moans. "I'm going to fill you up as deep as I can. I'm making you mine." He growls, pinning your tied wrists above your head. He plants on your chest before licking your exposed chest. He leaves hickies all over your chest, marking this night on your body for only him to see. You feel the familiar knot forming in your stomach again and you're positive he can feel it too. He grunts as he thrusted into you with reckless abandon, pounding you senseless into his mattress.

"V-Vox. Pl-please." He kisses you with as much passion as he could give as you cum around his cock, tightening your walls so much you squeeze him dry as he released his fluids deep into you. The electricity crackled as soon as he came before everything powered down around you. He pulls away from you, resting his head on your neck as he tried to catch his breath. You can see the light emitting from his face flickering different colors.

He pulls out of you, his cum flowing out. He grabs a towel to clean you off as well as he was able to before cleaning himself off. He unties your wrist before plopping down next to you. You nuzzle up next to him. The city lights turn back on and the light seeped into his room. He seems to have kept the lights off in the room. You feel his arm wrap around you. You look up at him, hand resting on his chest.

"Was the teasing worth it or what?" You asked, giggling a little bit. "Hell yeah it did. I'm so glad I sat through the whole show just for you." He sighs contently, pulling you closer to him. "Will you run this entire hell with me, dear?"

"Gladly, Vox."

Valentino groans as he sends over $100 to Velvette. "You of all people should know he wasn't going to be able to pussy out this time." She grins.

[trblsvt]

the long way | yoon jeonghan

summary | it was just like any other shoot. go in, pose, drink water, don't get food on the clothes, and don't joke around with the staff. easy. except it wasn't that easy. genre | just fluff, model!jeonghan warnings | swearing (?), like one innuendo word count | 2.2k words pairing | yoon jeonghan x gn!reader min | lowercase intended @i-luvsang likes to torture me with this concept so here it is. you're welcome. i may have diverged a little from your original concept... i actually don't think there's any language in here. i tried to make this gender-neutral, but if anyone finds a fem!reader pronoun please let me know!

jeonghan liked his job. really, he did. what was there to complain about it? it was an easy, not to mention, fun life. he liked traveling. he liked the different foods he got to try. he liked the nice clothes he got to wear during photoshoots. he would be lying if he said he never stole some of the clothes that he got to wear. he especially enjoyed chatting with the staff.

they were usually amiable with him and entertained his antics. sometimes he even got a genuine laugh out of a few photographers too.

but sometimes, just chatting was boring. especially when the conversations were cut short by photographers calling him back to get a few more shots or make-up artists coming up to him to touch up his make-up. so jokes in between shots and lipstick touch-ups were a must.

today was no different. he had to advertise for the brand that he was an ambassador for, and he was thoroughly enjoying himself. the clothes were comfortable, the air temperature was just right, and his audience was readily accepting of his jokes.

half of the time he couldn't remember the point of his jokes. he just said whatever came to mind. sometimes he was monologuing his thoughts and people would laugh. it did boost his ego, though. his inner voice was funny enough to garner laughs without even trying

as jeonghan was setting up for another shot, the photographer asked him to fix his stance. "i need you to spread your legs a bit more, jeonghan," the photographer asked. jeonghan had worked with him a few times, so he felt comfortable cracking a slightly inappropriate joke. "wow, mingyu, i thought you'd ask me out on a date first. already trying to get between my legs," jeonghan chuckled, fixing his stance. mingyu only rolled his eyes and went back to adjusting his camera settings.

that joke got a few laughs.

but it was jeonghan. he needed at least seventy-five percent of the staff to laugh at least one of his jokes. what else was he supposed to do when he was there? stand there and look good, yes, but no.

besides, he needed to test his standup on a live unsuspecting audience.

so that's how the rest of the shoot went. jeonghan finding ways to make puns here and throw a few sexual innuendos there. he appeared to be a hit, and that's all he wanted.

that is until he made some half-assed joke that he didn't even think about when he heard something. something so.... attractive. a laugh. from someone who had not laughed at his jokes until the lamest one he had cracked all day. he glanced over his shoulder in the direction that he heard it and his eyes landed on you. you were covering your face with a hand while the other clutched a tray of drinks and a binder tucked under your arm.

he made eye contact and quirked an eyebrow at you. you instantly averted your gaze to the ground and fumbled around for your phone.

cute, he thought.

he needed to hear it again.

for the remaining hour on set he tried and tried to get to you laugh again, but much to his dismay you were on the phone for most of the time.

soon enough he was out of the clothes and into his regular day clothes. the stylist quickly removed the extravagant make-up, and he swiftly grabbed his bag so he could find you.

as he ran out of the dressing room and onto the set. he scanned the room in search of you, and caught a glimpse of your silhouette walking out the door toward the city and not toward the back where the cars were. "jeonghan, are you coming?" his manager called to him. "the car is waiting." jeonghan shook his head and watched as the door closed behind you. "i'm actually going to walk home today. this was the last activity scheduled today, right?" jeonghan stated. even if it wasn't the last thing he had to do today, he had more important things in mind.

"uh, yes, that's all. but are sure you want to walk alone?" his manager questioned.

"i think bringing people with me garners more attention than me just walking by myself," he shrugged. so with that he swung his coat over his shoulders, hat on head, and left the same way you went.

he saw the back of your head make its way through the surprisingly empty street. he checked his watch and realized that it was right before rush hour. he jogged to catch up with you.

he was so close to you now. he could probably reach out and grab your hand if he wanted to, but that would be weird. he didn't even know your name.

how could he even approach you? "hi i'm jeonghan. i thought your laugh was pretty-" wait was that too personal? too forward?

he was so deep in thought, he didn't notice the way you tensed up when he got too close. suddenly you whipped around, "are you following me?"

he paused with a wide-eyed look plastered on his face. this was not the way it was supposed to go. "well, yes. but, not- not in the weird way," he tried to clarify. he looked slightly frantic, he looked worried. you examined his distinctive features. "oh, mr. yoon. i didn't recognize you with your hat on," you laughed.

there it was.

"please, just jeonghan is fine," he assured.

"okay, just jeonghan."

ha, you were pretty witty too. he held out his hand for you to shake. "___," you introduced yourself.

amazing.

"are you on your way to anything important?" he asked after looking at you for a bit longer. you glanced down at your phone and around the street. "i was actually going back to the office to drop this off," you said motioning to the large file bag you held.

"i can accompany you, if you want," jeonghan offered. "if you're not too weirded out by me at this point."

"oh, no. i'm not weirded out. i'm just surprised. i mean, you are a model. models i usually work with don't talk with staff much," you mentioned before starting off walking again. he followed quickly behind you. "so would you say i'm different from other models you've met," he asked playfully.

"yes i suppose. for one, models don't usually joke around on set as much as you do," you noted, glancing down at your phone hoping he wouldn't notice how he was making your heart speed up. "they're a bit too serious sometimes. you were nice though."

jeonghan felt a bit proud of that.

he filled the rest of the walk with pleasant conversation. lightly brushing against your arm. he got you to laugh about ten more times through the walk.

yes, he was counting.

you took him through the park and chatted

"well, this is me," you said standing in front of the large building. he looked up, and he instantly recognized the logo plastered on the door. "wait, you work for-" he started.

"yes, i work for the brand that you are an ambassador for," you giggled. "why else would i be at the shoot? did i not mention all the other models i've had to worked with?"

jeonghan was utterly baffled. "yes. i mean you did. i just, i don't know i wasn't really focused on that part. maybe you just wanted to see a handsome man like myself," he tried to recover.

"well, seeing handsome men like yourself is in my job description. i have to make sure our ambassadors are representing us well," you nudged his arm, and he felt like he could burst with joy.

"well i didn't expect someone as attractive as yourself would work for a place like corporate," he attempted at gaining his confidence back. it appeared to work.

you scoffed lightheartedly and looked away from him. "you flatter me too much, jeonghan," you laughed and looked back at him. suddenly you heard your name being called. "___! there you are, i've been looking for you for the past hour," your co-worker (well more like friend since you had known her since forever) called. you glanced between her and jeonghan. "hey, i'm sorry. i got a little - distracted," you explained apologetically to your obviously frazzled friend.

"really, its my fault. i must've made the walk a bit slower. the park was just so nice today," jeonghan commented, glancing at you hoping that you would look back at him again.

"the park? that's the long way around, you could've taken-" your friend started before you clasped your hands on her shoulders. "well, i seriously do have to bring this back to my manager. thank you for walking with me, it was very kind of you," you said smiling at him.

"of course," he smiled. he held your eyes for a moment before you chuckled quietly and turned away with your friend. "goodbye," he called after you.

"bye," you replied back, only turning your head slightly towards him. you exchanged hushed whispers as the two of you made your way up to the entrance. "isn't that yoon jeonghan?" your friend quizzed. "he's the one who was at the shoot you went to, right? why'd you take him through the park? you know that's the long way. it adds like fifteen minutes to your walk."

"yeah, yeah, i know, he was just so easy to talk to. i needed an excuse to talk to him longer. plus, his laugh was super cute," you remarked.

it had been maybe an hour or two since you had said your goodbye to jeonghan downstairs. you hadn't been able to stop thinking about him. how sweet and kind he was. he wasn't too full of himself like some of the other models were, but confident enough to make your heart beat a bit faster than usual. to top it all off, he was genuinely funny too.

you weren't exactly sure how you were supposed to just - forget about him. you worked with many models for the past few years, and sure most of them were nice. just not as nice as jeonghan.

you checked the clock and realized that there were only about thirty minutes left until you could clock out. maybe if you showered when you got home you could get jeonghan's cologne out of your senses.

as you sent your last email of the day and logged out of your computer, you began to gather your things from your desk. unfortunately, you were a bit too preoccupied to notice how the room outside of your office stilled. you were grabbing a few things that fell onto the floor.

then you heard someone clear their throat from your door. "uh, ___, someone is here to see you," one of your other co-workers said.

"uh, i just clocked out, but i can definitely add them on my calendar first thing tomorr-" you trailed off as you lifted your head and saw jeonghan standing outside your office behind the very nervous-looking receptionist.

"i'm afraid that won't work for me," jeonghan sighed absentmindedly looking around your office, hands clasped behind his back.

"mina, you can go," you told the receptionist. mina nodded and ran off. jeonghan stepped into your office and gently closed the door. "this is a surprise, mr. yoon," you said standing up.

"hopefully a welcome one," he joked. "and please, i was gone for a couple hours and you forgot i'm just jeonghan?" you stifled a laugh. "please do not feel like you need to contain you laughter from me, ___," he assured. you nodded a silent, but happy, agreement. "well, jeonghan. what is the occasion for this visit? were you unhappy with something today during the shoot?" you asked, approaching him. "and if tomorrow morning does not work to discuss this matter, i can figure something else out or i-"

"no. it's actually the opposite. i had a great time today. i think my only complaint is that you have not been there for the past few times i've modeled for this brand," he said getting closer to you. you could smell his cologne again and you knew you were in for it. "also, tomorrow morning won't work because i wanted to see if you were free tonight to get dinner with me, that is, unless you prefer breakfast," he smiled.

you were dumbfounded.

jeonghan was here. after hours. asking you out on a date. he was funny, kind, and not to mention quite attractive. you had been thinking about him for the whole day daydreaming about him, and he was here looking very handsome and very sincere. and who were you to decline such a tempting offer?

"how would you know that i would say yes?" you asked as the two of you walked out of the building.

"well for one, you didn't take the subway like a normal person would. secondly, you added a whole extra fourteen minutes to your walk because you skipped the subway and went through the park," he shrugged.

"were you counting?" you giggled and nudged his shoulder playfully.

"and what if i was? and what if i was counting every time you laughed at something i said today? what if i said that was the fifteenth time i've made you laugh today?"

"i might have to kiss you then."

"please do."

min | wow. that was sort of disgustingly cute. am i good a fluff, maybe? im softening with age i think. leave feedback and reblog if you want! it's appreciated. not proofread

[thickania]

I'm going to try to be as nice as I can. If you are having full on meltdowns and panic attacks because Chris Evans got married, please seek out for a psychiatrist. And if you consume so much media, if your life revolves around a celebrity to that extent, turn off the computer, lay off the fanfic, stop consuming media with them, stop consuming fanfiction. Just stop it.

Chris didn't sell you any fake image, the fans who were here before marvel, we knew about his frat guy personality, he openly talked about what part of a woman's body he found it attractive, he openly talked about how he's always thinking inappropriate jokes, y'all made a imaginary version of him, and then got upset when he didn't fit that image. People are not a piece of paper, they are multifaced, he can easily be a party frag guy and a family guy. It's not an impossible thing,

I'm not trying to be mean, I'm genuinely worried for some of y'all. I'm going to tag this with every male celebrity with a heavy female audience and fanatics that I can think of, because it's becoming ridiculous and scary.

I was here in the 2010s, when fandom was at one of its peaks, I saw girls leaking each other's address because of fandom wars, I had my number leaked, just because I made fun of One Direction at the time, I saw girls stepping over each other at events just to get a peak of their favorite singer or actor, y'all are acting just the same, but this time is way worse, because a lot of you are full grown ass adults. I saw people threatening to hurt themselves because of this marriage. I heard that Pedro Pascal was stalked a few weeks ago, people are having public meltdowns because of Timothée Chalamet, there's still people stalking Henry's girlfriend. There are still people dissecting every single move that Zawe does. Seek professional help. Stop consuming fanfiction, don't just decrease the quantity, stop consuming it for at least 3 months.

I don't know when y'all will understand they are actors, singers, models, they are here to sell a product so we can consume their product. We can enjoy a little harmless fun sometimes, we can imagine what it would be like to be next to them, or date them, be their friend, we can imagine that, but there's a point where you have to back up, rethink your life choices and see what's missing in your life. Please seek help, immediately

[cyberclouddream]

Sun:

your sense of self and how you view your role in the world; how you assert yourself and express your individuality; what drives you to achieve and shine; how naturally-self-assured you feel and what boosts your self-esteem; what gives your life meaning; what you take pride in or feel most accomplished about; how you lead and inspire others; they way you create and innovate; how determined or focused you are in pursuing goals; the path you take to evolve and realize your potential

the kind of work that aligns with your identity; how other's perceive your leadership or authority; tangible expressions of creativity or individuality; the type of acknowledgement you receive or seek; the role you naturally assume in society/social situation; the style of roles you take on; how you interact with bosses, mentors, or role models; physical markers of achievements; activities you enjoy that reflect your identity; achievements that bring you admiration

the subtle ways you seek attention; how you approach enjoyment and fun; how you make your presence known physically; if you feel pride through your possessions or physical achievements; the extent to which you seek affirmation from others; how you interact with authority or leadership; how you wish to be remembered and what you want to leave behind;

Moon:

how you feel emotions and express them; how you respond to situations on a gut level; what makes you feel secured and loved; what kind of routines or habits feel nurturing; how sensitive you are to your environment and others' emotions; the style of your creative or emotional dreaming; how well you bounce back from emotional challenges; how you connect to and depend on others emotionally; the way you take care of others; how you process and hold onto past experiences

the style or energy of your living space; the nature of your bond with maternal figures; how emotional interactions play out within your family or early home life; the type of nourishment that feels comforting or food preferences; the style of nurturing or care-giving you offer to others; how you connect with the natural world; the items you hold dear, keepsakes; the kinds of emotional dynamics or events you attract or experience in relationships; the type of daily rituals that bring comfort; the way you behave within the home or domestic environment; how you express your emotions in the outside world; how your emotional world

Mercury:

how you think and process information; the way you express your ideas and emotions; how you absorb and retain new information; your ability to adapt to new ideas and perspectives; how you approach challenges and find solutions; your desire to seek knowledge and understanding; how well you remember facts, experiences, or details; how you handle discussions, debates, and negotiations; how you see and interpret the world around you; the tone and style of your inner voice

the type of books you gravitate toward; the type of work that suits your communication style; the platforms or forms of media you prefer for communicating; specific subjects or forms of learning that suit your mind; the type of people you keep in your circles; the way you approach travel and movement; how you present yourself in public or to an audience

how you move physically while thinking or communicating; the way you modulate your speech; how quickly your mind tires or needs a break; how you direct and maintain attention; how much energy you invest in socializing with others; the topics you obsessively think about or become fascinated by; how you argue or debate with others; how you react to stressful situations or during conflict

Venus:

how you express affection and experience romantic connections; what you value and are drawn to in relationships, beauty, and life; your natural charm and how you attract others emotionally or romantically; your sense of personal value and how you feel about your worthiness; what brings you joy, delight, and satisfaction in life; what you find beautiful; your approach to giving and taking in relationships

the qualities of your significant others or romantic interests; money and material possessions that bring comfort or indulgence; tokens of affections, like gifts or offerings; romantic situations, like dates, flirtations, and others experiences centered on love and affection; kinds of artistic abilities or creative pursuits enhanced; approach to money, luxury, and material comforts; the type of lose friends or social relationships you gravitate towards;

Mars:

the way you handle anger or setbacks; what makes you feel alive and ready to take action; the goals or rewards that push you to keep going; the areas where you need freedom to act your way; how you handle pressure; how you go after what you want; things that make you excited, passionate, or determined; how you get things done; what makes you competitive

the kind of arguments that pop up in your life;the type of rivals or competitors that push you to improve; what physical activities suit you; the kind of passion or intensity you bring to intimate relationships; objects tied your energy, like tools or gears; where you take risks; what places motivate you, like where you feel most active or focused; what relationship struggles show up; the kind of authority figures you look up to or push against

Jupiter:

what you believe in, like your sense of faith, philosophy, or life principles; what gives you hope, things that make you feel inspired or optimistic; the moral compass or ethical values you follow; what makes you generous; how you seek growth; what freedom means to you; how you handle luck or opportunity;

what kind of teachers you tend to attract; how travel influences you; the type of lucky opportunities/chances for success that come your way; how education shapes your life; the material or spiritual prosperity you tend to encounter; situations where luck or boldness leads to rewards; what inspires generosity in others towards you; how you beliefs influence your surroundings

Saturn:

how you handle responsibility; what you fear, like insecurities or doubts; how you set boundaries; what discipline means to you; how you manage deadlines or schedule, your time; what makes you resilient, the lessons and hardships that strengthen your character; how you face authority and societal expectations; what motivates your persistence, like goals or values that make you work hard despite obstacles; how you deal with setbacks; what defines your success; what teaches you patience; how you manage fear

the obstacles or delays that force you to grow stronger and wiser; what responsibilities you must manage in life; how authority figures affect you; what limits you encounter, restrictions or boundaries that shape your choices; what career challenges arise; demanding figures who guide your growth; the societal rules, traditions, or organizations you deal with; what rewards come later in life; what delayed rewards come; where hard work is required

Uranus:

how strongly you feel the need to express your uniqueness and stand out; what drives your rebellion; how you deal with sudden change; how you handle freedom; what technology excites you; what inspires your originality; how you break patterns;

how technology shapes your generation; what societal changes you're part of; what collective rebellions take place; what cultural shifts occur; how global events disrupt normal life; how you deal with independence; what generational inventions emerge

Neptune:

how you dream and imagine; what you idealize, like the things or people you put on a pedestal; what your illusions are, where you may have unrealistic expectations; how you empathize with others; where you seek to escape reality or find relief from harsh truths; where it may be hard to see things clearly; what your creative flow is like; how you dissolve boundaries, blurring the lines between you and others; internal longings for something intangible

cultural or artistic movements that arise; how social ideals shift; what collective illusions or deceptions occur; what forms of escapism develop on a societal level; what societal movements rise around compassion; how global trends in media or entertainment evolve; what spiritual or mystical figures influence culture

Pluto:

what you subconscious desires are; how you handle power; what your deepest fears are; how you deal with control; how you rise from difficult situations; what you repress or deny in yourself; how you heal from trauma; what your regeneration process is; how you deal with control, like seek or resist it

what major life changes you face; how you experience power struggles; what collective fears emerge; what global or societal transformations occur; how you deal with destruction and renewal, especially on a global scale; what you inherit, in terms of family and cultural legacies; how collective healing habits; what deep societal secrets come to light; what major power shifts happen in society