#Edit: >“nothing goes wrong at the resort”

[keikakudom]

Lemme try and make sense of Vox's mindset, and correct me if I get anything wrong?

I think Vox in RR!au hardly actually thinks about suicide. He's too much of a busy man to do that, after all! Thinking about death is for people with too much time on their hands, who don't have to deal with a billion problems on the daily. And sure, maybe it wouldn't be a terrible accident if he was locked out on extermination day one year (not that there's exterminations anymore), but he'll never bother to actively seek it -- why would he? He has things to do. Empires to run/build. Deals to make. Resorts to run, residents to settle, princesses to talk to.

Really, everything would be just fine and dandy, as long as progress is being made, nothing goes wrong at the resort, heaven doesn't come down for no good reason, and that deer freak manage to not bother him for a single day. All dandy!

So what if he's been going through business ventures like someone going through Doritos at the back of the car? It's difficult to stay on top, in Hell, and he can't rely on tech or media forever, not when they cycle faster and faster(and he would know, of course, his whole body is made of it). He's doing what it takes, and if it's risky, what business isn't?

And re: Alastor, vox may have once had feelings for him, but now it's probably soured into maybe wishing that Alastor would just fuck off somewhere where he'll never be heard from again. I think Vox knows very well from years of companionship that Alastor considers him a source of amusement and entertainment rather than an equal, and that hasn't truly changed even after he left, and in a way that has to bite? That Alastor cannot leave it alone, has to make his opinions and disdain clear to all of hell every single day, and also make it clear that vox cannot do anything to stop him (that tv still runs on radiowaves fundamentally, that he can't get rid of Alastor's influence).

Like the way I interpret canon!vox's feelings re:alastor has a lot more insecurity and the desire to show he's stronger now, he's over it, he doesn't need him, than just being rejected romantically, and in contrast RR!vox grinned and bore it longer without letting on, and then at some point just gave up, by which time his feelings have soured so far past insecurity and bitterness into straight up nihilism. (Doomed yaoi my fav)

Ok I'm just rambling now but yeah I think vox in RR!au is really really interesting? Bc he's y'know not in the best place but also he's fine. He's not, probably never, going to actively do anything, left to his own devices he's just going to keep at his daily routine and eventually self-destruct on his own hubris by taking on far more than he is capable of (people pleasing tendencies, hm?). But otherwise he's fine.

*drops my glass of milk* yea, this all. Checks out.

(that tv still runs on radiowaves fundamentally, that he can't get rid of Alastor's influence)

I think RR!Alastor is also chasing RR!Vox because he knows something is really wrong when Vox wants to cut something *fundamental to his functions* out from his life... If Alastor had any heat to his words, he could do some serious damage to Vox.

But Alastor was not able to reciprocate back then(or in general) the way Vox ever wanted him to. Alastor might think, "What's so wrong about being amusing to me? What's so wrong in being cared for that way?" But we know that Vox, even in canon, is pretty damn emotional. A confession was bound to happen, but since RR!Vox never did, he opt'd to shut them off. It started off with distractions, and those worked too well. Eventually he gave up trying to figure out his emotions and took the "easy" way out, nihilism--but like everything Vox dips his foot into, it's never enough. Only this time it's not only power(like I interpret canon!Vox to seek) that's growing/he's greedy for, it's this all-encompassing void.

Another interesting characterization to tack onto RR!AU Vox is his strong lack of self-preservation, I did mention it here when I had some thoughts on canon!Vox, but rather than "confidence", he does not care. And on occasion, he can go irrationally, batshit crazy for the same reason.

Let's set the stage in hmm, 1980s? He starts not to care about smaller allies, the people he stomps on, eating them up to become an overlord. Recruits Valentino, doesn't care that Val is immoral. At first it's "not his business", but it starts spreading. What is it that he's looking for? Power? Love? Entertainment? People to accept him?

Which is why RR!Vox decided to jump the gun a little bit and shoot for becoming a form of "GOD", aka the original reason for all his anguish in Hell(his religious roots as a human). It's kind of...an endpoint? It's not the most sane, or sensical route-- but he doesn't care that much. He's functioning on this tired/desensitized, pseudo-robotic, logical reasoning with a combo of "oh god I'm running out of interest"(in existing/running himself to the ground). So....hm, "fine" is a tragic word, indeed.

He's not, probably never, going to actively do anything, left to his own devices he's just going to keep at his daily routine and eventually self-destruct on his own hubris by taking on far more than he is capable of (people pleasing tendencies, hm?). But otherwise he's fine.

Welllll, he did always want to go out with a bang. If he did. I don't know, something really big. Like becoming God! Yeah.....That'd do it.

IMO, the premise of RR!AU isn't in stasis-- the reason Vox picked up this project in particular is an aggressive move. He's no longer distributing the same amount of work to the other Vees either anymore, so there is....some urgency, is what I like to think....

[koqabear]

Lamb To The Slaughter

♫: Gods & Monsters, Lana Del Rey

"An act of kindness goes a long way, your parents told you once; their words stuck with you all your life, your pure heart never failing to follow their philosophy— though, it seems your naive self was left unaware of just how far an act of kindness can go."

wolf hybrid!beomgyu x lamb hybrid!fem!reader x herding dog hybrid!soobin

Genre: smut, hybrid au, angst, porn with the world's smallest amount of plot

Word count: 15.8k

Warnings: barely edited oops, heavy predator/prey themes, injuries/blood, use of scents, scent glands and scenting, mentions of kidnapping and murder, psychological abuse i guess… this fic doesn’t let you forget that they’re hybrids btw, (showcases animal-like behaviors and habits), soogyu are stronger than the mc, obsessiveness, manipulation

Smut Warnings: DUBCON. threesome, mean dom!gyu, soft dom!soobin, sub!mc,inexperienced!mc, pet names (pretty, doll, good girl, etc.) manhandling, marking, subspace, possessiveness, choking kinda, dry humping, praise, praise kink, humiliation, dacryphilia, fingering, exhibitionism/voyeurism, degrading, orgasm control, dumbification, finger sucking, cum eating(?), spanking, begging, mind breaking, unprotected sex, jerking off ig, jealousy, hair pulling, rough sex, corruption kink maybe, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, double vaginal penetration… brief mentions of breeding, creampies, knotting, claiming, mc blacks out. (lmk if i should add anything.)

Notes: look at these stupidly long paragraphs of warnings oh im gonna kms. this story almost had me plucking my hairs out one by one, i’ve never been so stressed out by a pwp before. it was originally an ot5 au and was supposed to come out during october but… yk. shit happens. (i saw a post that changed the entire trajectory of this fic)

[This story contains dark content. Please read the warnings carefully; I am not responsible for the content you choose to consume.]

The forest at the edge of the village is something that should’ve been closed off long ago— but there’s no resources, no men to work on the border, no money— so the townspeople have resorted to old myths and tales to ward off wandering children and defenseless women instead.

There’s a killer in the forest— fairies will lead you down the wrong path and trap you in the woods forever; there’s a hidden pond so deep that if you fall in, you’ll sink forever. Typical tales that are told around the bonfire, where people cower and whisper from the thrill of the stories. Yet with each varied warning, one thing stays the same.  

There are wolves in the forest.

Large and strong and invincible, with a terrifying bloodlust and noses so keen they could spot you the moment you cross the barrier; tearing you to shreds, eating you alive and forcing you to feel the pain all throughout it. The wolves are always hungry, insatiable, and lurking about for its next prey— anyone who would enter the woods willingly would be deemed suicidal. 

You’ve never been one to believe such tales; how could you, when you’ve grown alongside the forest?

There are wolves in the forest, that much you’re sure of— but the fantastical tales and myths are nothing but a farce, crafted from the fear of the unknown and the dark, entangled landscape that lies past the backyard of your small cottage; belonging to your deceased parents, now left to fend on your own and care for the gardens and lush plants your mother had carefully cultivated since you were a child. 

She taught you everything you needed to know about the forest; which paths to take, which areas led to steep cliffs or poison ivy, and where to find herbs and plants that would aid to the medicinal business your family ran— you were fascinated by the craft, even as a young child, learning with eager eyes and an even more eager mind as you stored all the information in your small, worn down journal; the pink material of the cover faded and torn at the corners, filled to the brim yet still useful to you as you took it with you on every trip.  

Tonight, you pull on a warm coat dress; it’s thick and durable, a cute piece gifted on your birthday by the baker’s son, the border collie family always making sure to look after you since the day you were left on your own. The shawl sewed into the coat hangs over your shoulders like a small cape, adding in extra warmth as you look out the window and onto the cold scenery; the leaves have begun to abandon the trees, and if you hadn’t memorized the forest layout like the back of your hand, the covered paths might’ve concerned you— but you’re confident as always, grabbing your wicker basket and perching it on the crook of your elbow, glancing down to make sure your journal is already inside— and with one last mental check to make sure you have everything you need, you slip on your boots and make your way outside. 

“Soobin,” you say in surprise, swinging the door open, getting scared at the sight of someone already waiting for you outside— the said man only smiles at the sound of his name, laughing fondly at the way you press a gentle hand against your startled heart; his ears perk up at the sight of you and his black hair is slightly disheveled, though you guess it’s probably from his habit of running a hand through it whenever he’s restless— he holds a basket of his own, and your eyes fall onto it with a curiosity you don’t bother to hide.

“Hello pretty,” he smiles softly, the nickname never failing to make a heat flush up the back of your neck— you really hope he doesn’t notice your flushed expression, his eyes narrowing with fondness as he brings his basket up, opening it to show you the contents, “I made an extra batch of bread, and I thought you’d like some. Business will get busy for us both soon, and I’d hate for you to get hungry because you don’t have time to eat.”

He’s sweet and caring, and it never fails to leave your knees weak— he looks at you with nothing short of affection, raising a brow in curiosity and glancing down at your already occupied arm— his brows furrow, biting his lip in thought as he finally pieces everything together. 

“Are you going to the woods?” he asks softly, reaching past you and into the doorway, placing the basket of bread on the table next to the door— his hands are immediately coming up to your shoulders, smoothing out the soft material of the coat with narrowed eyes— and they’re filled with worry again, ears angling down and tail swaying slowly from side to side, searching your face that can’t seem to lie to him, “It’s dangerous to go at this hour, you shouldn’t.”

“It’ll only be dangerous if you continue to stall me,” you tease, shrugging his hands off and wrapping your own around his elbow, tugging him until you’re both stepping out of your home; he allows you to, and you’re locking it up with ease, even as he continues to tell you not to, to go another day, another time— you huff, shaking your head and frowning at the way he begins to offer to come with you; his instincts must be kicking in again, eyes filled with a calculated look he only sports when looking out for your safety— and with you being nothing but a fragile little lamb in his eyes, this look was something you’ve become very familiar with. 

“No, you mustn’t come with— it’s dangerous, and I’m the only one who knows my way around the woods,” you scold him, and even though he stares at you with that intimidating, stern look, murmuring about something about his keen senses, you stand your ground, “I’m too one-track-minded to guide someone else through these woods— I’d hate for you to get hurt because of me.”

He sighs— and you know you’ve gotten him good by the way he remains silent, stalling his leave as he tries continuing to reason with you— but you keep refusing in return, cooing softly that you’ll be okay, that you’ll be quick. 

“I’ll wait for you,” he finally says, refusing to back down even as you express your worry; after a moment of bickering, you finally give in. Your eyes widen in surprise as he gently pulls you in for a hug, engulfed entirely in his embrace as he rests his chin on your shoulder, inhaling your scent with a content sigh— warm, comforting and pure, like jasmine with the hint of a pure, soft vanilla, his nose subconsciously poking at your gland in search for more— and you shiver at the feeling, engulfed in his calming scent, a sage and rich pine, allowing yourself to melt in his arms and hold you tighter, ignoring the way your heart begins to race the longer your remain there. 

“Come back to me safe.”

Soobin is just as solemn and loyal as he was the day he declared that he would always protect you— and it makes your heart race a bit faster, a dopey smile stuck on your face as you wave him goodbye— you sigh pathetically the moment you’re finally in the woods.

The leaves crunch under your feet and birds chirp in the distance; it’s comforting to you, humming softly to yourself as you walk the paths you need to take without much of a thought, gathering herbs and plants as you slowly check them off your list; everything goes as smoothly as it always does, your mind in awe as you witness the sun beginning to set. 

You should get going soon; it was never ideal to be in the woods after dark, no matter how familiar you were with the landscape. The thought makes your steps quicken and your eyes sweep over the land in acute concentration, looking for the last plant on your list— you’re freezing entirely when you hear a shift against the leaves. 

You’re still; was it a false alarm, or a harmless rabbit passing by? You’re not entirely sure, wicker basket heavy in your hand as the other presses firmly against your heart; trying to settle your heart rate, breathing deeply as you look for any signs of movement, any signs of life around you. 

Just when you think the coast is clear, you hear it again; rustling against the leaves, harsh and erratic as something else greets your ears— sharp pants and sounds of struggle, a pained yelp resounding into the vast space and sending you into action before you can think twice. 

You round the thick oak tree ahead of you, searching for the source of the sound— and stumble back in surprise, an involuntary gasp escaping you as sharp eyes and equally sharp teeth point your way— a man lays before you, injured and weak.

Except, he’s not just a man; that much is made clear to you the moment your eyes sweep over his frame once more, taking in the ears that press flat on his head and his fangs that remain bared at you, the injured man—wolf hybrid— growling lowly at you and shuffling back to curl against the thick tree that once covered him; your hands shake as you hold onto your basket a little tighter, wide eyes sweeping over his figure and inevitably landing on the source of all this commotion; a twisted ankle, rendering the man before you immobile. 

You must run— you must, and it’s all your instincts seem to yell at you, your muscles becoming rigid with tension, white ears pressing flat against the top of your head and fluffy tail quivering with fear— but you have yet to, something about the look in the wolf’s eyes making you ignore your instincts, just for a second; behind the dangerous fangs that glint beneath the remaining light and his eyes that are narrowed threateningly, you can still see the pain he’s found himself in.

Something inside you clicks— your weak heart twists and your hands grip your basket a bit tighter, a voice in your mind telling you that you can’t just leave him like this; you can do something to help. Next thing you know, you’re taking cautious, slow steps toward him, hands held out to show that you’re nothing close to a threat— though you’re sure that the smell of fear that rolls off you in waves is enough of an indicator— and your soft voice is whispering out your intentions, continuing your approach even as he bares his teeth at you in warning. 

“I want to help you,” you say softly, finally at his feet as you place your basket gently next to him; and he growls at you once more, though you don’t find yourself to be afraid— if he were dangerous, he would’ve attacked long ago. It’s the only thought that repeats itself in your mind like a prayer, pretending as though your hands don’t tremble as you reach into your basket, as you grab the herbs you were just stocking up on and the bandages you carry for emergencies. 

He lets out a particularly harsh growl that makes you jump; it makes you hesitate to touch his skin, bruised and broken and bloody, eyes jumping to meet his— and though the action was meant to be confident, nothing can hide the fear that taints your eyes, the way your frame shrinks slightly when you’ve found that he has no issues holding eye contact— and after a standstill moment, you finally continue, ripping a piece of the bandage and attempting to clean the wound as best as you can. 

You’re a bit clumsy at first; unable to look away from the man, his strikingly dark red hair that's matted to his head from a thin layer of sweat, dirtied clothes and face that’s twisted in a mean glare— but eventually, it softens, the deep heaving of his chest calming as he watches the way you tend to him with deft hands, not seeming to care if he’s soiling your pretty coat as you tug him closer to you. 

The bandages are tight on his ankle and you’ve placed herbs within to help soothe the swelling— all tricks you’ve learned from your mother, from the times when you would run about carelessly and twist your ankle in some hidden hole, only calming your cries to see her work her magic on you.

Reassuring words don’t do much in the grand scheme of things, but you still whisper them sweetly to the injured man before you, dry bandage cleaning along the rest of his calf as you tell him to rest, to try and not overexert himself. And though you don’t know if he can understand you, though you’re unsure of where he came from— because as far as you know, wolves have been banished from your village for decades— you still find yourself caring for him. It’s something he can pick up on in your eyes, gentle and reflecting the last of the sun’s golden rays that leak through the woods. 

It’s quiet; it’s peaceful. Warm fingers lingering on his skin much longer than you intended, a curiosity leaking through your wide eyes as you take in his figure, the tall dark ears that stand on his head, the tail that lays on his side, thumping rhythmically— and you think you’ve finally found the courage to ask who are you? Lips parting to speak, you’re cut off by the sound of rustling, a new overwhelming scent overtaking your senses; something is approaching. 

The man before you doesn’t seem to be worried; it’s you that’s whipping around to the source of the sound, shrinking pathetically once you spot something emerging from the dark, thick mass of trees behind you; eyes, multiple pairs, glowing and angry as they stare at you like you’re their next meal— you’re not sure how many pairs there might be, but you’re stumbling to your feet quickly, eyes widening as you realize that the sun has set long, long ago.

You almost slip on the leaves beneath you; one last glance at the man behind you shows that his hands were out as though to catch you, expression twisted with what you’re surprised to see is… concern. But as a rough growling begins to surround the two of you, a sharp pang of fear courses through your body, the gravity of your situation finally sinking in as your eyes sweep around the area in one last, terrified glance.

They’re targeting you.

Before you can think twice, you’re turning on your heel and running— though nothing follows behind, you still let adrenaline take its course, shallow breaths and teary eyes guiding you back to your home; you don’t realize how crazed you must’ve looked until you’re finally reaching your front door, a worried Soobin immediately interrupting your flee and scooping you into his arms, whirling around to shield you away from the forest.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt? Dear, what happened?” he’s breathing out the concerned questions against the crown of your head, arms wrapped tightly around your middle and the only thing keeping you up as your knees buckle with fear; his gaze sweeps down to the state of your cute coat, the once pristine and pink material now dirty and bloodied; his hands hold onto it with a newfound panic, lifting the coat and attempting to find the source— it isn’t until you’ve let out a few pathetic sniffles that you can finally reassure him the blood is not yours.

“Is everything okay? Did something happen to you? Oh, I should’ve—” Soobin has pulled away to cup your face in his hands, wiping away the tears that escape your sweet eyes like a fountain; thumbs caressing your tear-streaked skin lovingly, brows knitted together as his concern pours off him in waves— and you shake your head softly, attempting to dissuade the guilt he must’ve felt for leaving you on your own. 

“It’s fine, I’m not hurt,” you croak out, grabbing onto his waist for support as you finally regain the strength in your legs, “I just— had some encounters with a wolf— but I’m safe, they didn’t hurt me, I’m just a bit shaken, is all.”

“A wolf?” Soobin asks, much more concerned by your words as he pulls away to inspect you once more; his hands run gingerly over your shoulders, running along them until they’ve stopped at your neck, eyes honing in on the spot for a moment before he sighs in relief. His gaze is hardening once more, cupping your face and looking at your sternly as he speaks. “Where were they? Did they follow you? Did you interact with them?”

“No, no— it’s alright, I’m alright, I promise,” you breathe out, hoping that Soobin doesn’t notice the way you shrink under his gaze, the way your body warms up at his touch— but he’s much too concerned about your safety to pick up on it, dismissing every cue of your body as nothing but fear, instincts heightened as he looks behind you and back at the forest you just came from. He watches the woods carefully, eyes narrowed and ears perked in concentration— but nothing happens, and he’s left to reluctantly believe your words, even if he wants nothing more than to run into the woods himself and make sure there’s no threat to you. 

After a moment of observing the forest, Soobin is turning back to you, and his gaze immediately softens at the sight. The brave front you put up isn’t fooling him, and it’s quite obvious that you’re still shaken from your encounter, delicate ears still pressed close to your head, eyes wide and scent muddled with distress— like rotten flowers, earthy and pungent— and with all the adrenaline ebbing away from your system, you’ve found that your legs have become pure jelly once more; Soobin is quick to catch on to the way you tremble and hold on to him tightly. 

“Oh, my doll,” Soobin sighs softly, fishing for your keys in your coat pockets and unlocking the door for you, leading you inside with a careful hand— as though you were made of porcelain, still shaken and anxious as he leads you to sit down, “it’s alright, you’re safe now— I’ll keep you safe.”

Soobin insists on taking care of you long after you tell him you feel better; he’s keen to protect you through and through, keeping his distance yet still doting on you as he makes you tea, helps you out of your coat, and even offers to wash it for you— the sight replaces the heavy fear in your stomach with butterflies. 

When he bids you goodbye, his eyes are soft, his movements slightly reluctant— but he must, it’s unlawful for him to stay the night with you; an unclaimed little prey like you, spending the night with Soobin, even if he was nothing short of perfect and kind, was enough to have the town gossiping like a storm. The very thought has your cheeks hot and your tongue stumbling on words, telling Soobin to get home safe with a shy, sweet voice— and he brushes his thumb against your cheekbones, smiling fondly before he leans in to press a kiss to your forehead; he lingers there, and you think you might just melt against him before he finally bids you goodbye. 

Your heart still races long after he’s gone; you suppose all this makes up for the fact that you forgot your basket in the woods, mourning the fact that you’ll have to go back to get it tomorrow— but for now, you’re content with giggling softly at the memory of Soobin’s lips against your skin, completely unaware of the eyes that watch you twirl around your kitchen happily.

 ≪ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆≫  

When you wake up, you find something peculiar at your doorstep; your wicker basket is placed before your feet, pristine as it was when you first took it out. 

Your brows furrow, looking around the area and wondering how it got here— your mind is going back to the wolf you tended to, eyes slowly sweeping over the dense forest, ears twitching in attention, listening for even the slightest rustle of leaves, wondering if he’s still lingering— but the world around you is still, and it seems to be only you here. You bend down to pick the basket up carefully. 

Everything is intact— your herbs, your bandages, your worn down pink journal— and the closer you bring it to your face in order to inspect it, the better you’re able to catch something peculiar; a scent, your nose twitching in curiosity and your eyes narrowing. The unknown scent only grows stronger the closer you get to the handkerchief you used to line the inside, and only then are you able to get a good sense of it— light and heady, like an amber and smoky smell filling your nose, finding yourself oddly enticed by the scent. 

You’re far too wrapped up in attempting to decipher the complicated notes of this new scent to notice someone approaching; your senses have gotten so used to Soobin’s presence you no longer find yourself alert around him, only perking up at the approaching sound of leaves crunching and the familiar, sage filling your senses— tucking the basket behind your back, you send him a meek smile, cheeks heating up as you silently hope he didn’t see you curiously nosing at your basket. 

“Hey, pretty thing,” Soobin rumbles out lowly, smiling fondly at the way you practically preen at the name; you’re terrible at hiding your expression, the way your ears twitch at his words not helping your attempts to seem nonchalant before him. 

“Hi Soobin,” you smile, fingers restlessly playing with the wicker basket behind your back as you tilt your head curiously, “what’re you doing here today?”

“I needed to check on you,” he says immediately, a soft oh leaving your lips at that, “I couldn’t sleep well knowing I just… left you here on your own. I needed to make sure you were safe.”

“Soobin, it’s fine, really,” you reassure him softly, fluffy tail wiggling behind you at the fact that he confessed how worried he was about you, his dedication to keep you safe, “Nothing happened— as long as I’m in my home, I’m safe.”

Soobin wants to argue against that, you can tell. But you don’t give him a chance to, inviting him in with a tug at his arm, smiling at the way he immediately relents; you tell him about your plans for today over a cup of tea, that you have to make a few deliveries to some homes across the village— Soobin practically jumps to offer to come with. 

“You– won’t you be busy?” you ask shyly, staring down at your teacup and stirring your spoon in  a feeble way to distract yourself. 

“No, I’m not needed at the bakery today,” Soobin immediately reassures you, reaching over the table to place a delicate hand over your own— and you stiffen, a heat rushing through your body at the sudden contact; the smell of sage wafts over to you as his thumb rubs soothingly over your skin, your mind mulling over his offer as you bite at your lip in thought. 

He’s eager to hear you say yes; his tail wags slowly behind him, ears perked up and eyes honed in on your every expression— and after a moment, you finally nod meekly. 

“It’s only a house or two, but the walk is… it’s far,” you say, standing at the doorway and reaching over for your basket, placing the bottles and jars filled with homemade remedies inside carefully— but before you can continue your explanations and tuck your basket snuggly into the crook of your arm, Soobin is taking it from you, his brows knitted together as he stares down at the item in confusion. 

“I thought you lost this,” he says quietly, rotating the item in his hands, taking in its pristine condition with a frown— his ears are perking up and his tail is straightening, head whipping over to you with wide, concerned eyes. “Did you go into the woods to retrieve it?”

“No!” you say, oddly defensive as you shake your head adamantly, “It just— it was at my doorstep this morning, I think someone might have found it—”

“The wolf,” Soobin sneers, his tone much darker than it was mere moments ago— it makes your ears flatten against your head and your figure shrink, his scent turning earthy and thick and rendering you docious and pliant— his eyes are darting from the basket and back to you, only to go back to the basket in order to examine it closely; the moment Soobin brings it closer to his face, you’re able to see the very moment where that same, smoky scent enters his senses— his pupils dilate, and his nose twitches. 

The same scent as before. Soobin recognized it as the same scent that you were drenched in the moment you found him, shaken and face aghast— your coat and skin reeked of nothing but that scent, wanting nothing more than to take you inside and replace it with his own— but the most he could do in the moment was hold you close and hope that it would wash off. 

The owner of this scent must have brought you the basket back; Soobin’s head races to find meaning, to find reason, adrenaline coursing through his body that yells at him to take action; this must be a threat—you’ve been followed, they know where you live.

“It isn’t safe for you to stay there anymore,” Soobin proceeded to tell you, only confessing how he felt once you were far, far away from your home— from the woods. And you could only shake your head at that, the reassurances an automatic response in your head at this point. 

But Soobin wasn’t going to go down without a fight this time; knowing that the wolf was out there somewhere, that he knew where you lived and even went as far as to visit your home— it made Soobin tense with anger. 

“That wolf was at your doorstep without you knowing,” Soobin continued to reason, all throughout your walk back, “you don’t know who they are— what their intentions are.” 

It was only then that you decided to mull through his offer to stay, or for you to stay with his family— images of a bloodthirsty wolf at your doorstep filled your mind, and you couldn’t help but feel like your nine year old self again, sitting at a fireplace and telling each other scary stories about the forest only a few feet away from you— your young self would always be left shaken and paranoid, asking your parents if you could sleep in their bed. 

Maybe you’ve become too used to being independent; you’ve survived this long on your own— most lamb hybrids you knew couldn’t walk around at night without having a trusted predator around to protect them, just in case— yet you were so used to depending only on yourself that you seem to have forgotten how truly vulnerable your species is; Soobin made sure to remind you with a stern look and crossed arms. 

“I don’t see why you’re insisting so much, binnie— I promise nothing happens here, this place is dead,” you tell him as you make dinner for the two of you, the sun now long gone and the man still stuck to your side, leaning against the counter beside you and watching you cook dutifully— his eyes drift over to the window behind him, looking over his shoulder and at the dark, gloomy forest that obscures his view; his eyes can’t help but narrow and pick apart each shape he sees, nose keen and eager to sense any changes, any hint of that smoky smell— but he sees nothing, and he’s turning back around to catch the way you send him a slightly incredulous look. 

“I understand why you might feel this way— you’ve been on your own for longer than you can remember, after all,” Soobin says softly, taking in the way your eyes remain downcast and you shy away from his gaze. Hesitantly, he shifts to stand behind you, a gentle hand placing itself on your bicep before his head lowers to rest on your shoulder; his forehead rests against you, able to smell the restless, flowery notes of your scent— despite the strong front you put up, Soobin’s keen senses are still able to pick up on the tenseness of your body, the way you keep glancing out the window and into the forest unsurely. 

“You have to allow yourself to be helped— there’s nothing wrong with that, doll,” he coaxes softly, ears atop his head twitching at the sound of the shaky sigh you let out— the stove is turned off, and the food is done— but you don’t seem to care about that much. 

Carefully, Soobin nudges at your jaw with his head; allowing your neck to tilt slowly, to expose it to him as his nose runs along your skin delicately, until it’s pressed against your scent gland, inhaling slowly and taking in the intense mix of smells and emotions within you— and he presses his lips softly against it, a gentle kiss that turns your scent sweet and fresh like a blooming flower; your heart pounds against your chest for a second, then proceeds to relax against Soobin’s hold the moment his scent invades your senses. 

“I’m here to protect you.” 

His words stick to you for the rest of the night— as does he, his presence reassuring enough to make you forget of why he was here in the first place— enough to allow you to miss the glowing eyes that peek from the edge of the forest as you get a glass of water in the middle of the night, taking in your drowsy figure and eyes that are heavy with sleep; unaware of the pair of eyes that take you in hungrily, the tongue that runs along a sharp set of teeth, nose twitching to get another gust of your sweet, clean scent, the muddled vanilla that makes his mouth water. 

With Soobin lying in the guest bedroom, you’re almost able to forget that there are wolves in the forest. That there is one that has now set his sights on the cute little lamb that tended to him with wide eyes and an innocent heart. 

 ≪ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆≫  

It’s early in the morning when you bid Soobin goodbye; your cheeks are flushed and you’re barely able to look him in the eye, despite not having done anything more than talk the whole night. He finds your shyness nothing short of endearing, placing one last affectionate kiss on top of your head before he tells you to call him if you ever need anything— to never be afraid to ask for help. You nodded to his words with a soft smile. 

Watching him leave had left a bit of an empty feeling in your heart; you couldn’t seem to help but watch him leave pathetically, standing at your doorway even after he had long gone; his scent still drifted around in your senses, the warm and sturdy scent helping you remain calm as you finally went back inside— closing the door behind you, you were pleasantly surprised to see that your home still smelled strongly of him. 

You had over ten different orders you needed to work on; you were able to busy yourself with making medicine throughout the rest of the day, boiling herbs and making remedies for colds and illnesses and burns. It was a tedious and slow process, and as you finally began to reach the end of your list, you couldn’t help but frown. 

You ran out of two different herbs needed for these next three orders; without them, you wouldn’t be able to make the medications at all. 

Glancing out the window, you gulped; it wouldn’t be another thirty minutes before the sun set, but after your encounter a few days ago— paired with Soobin’s warning and harsh reality check— you were much more hesitant to go into the woods on your own. 

You could call Soobin— ask him if he’d like to accompany you, stay put until you finally had proper protection. You mulled over the idea for a moment, your traitorous mind whisperering encouraging words in order to see him again; it’s just for protection, you told yourself, walking over to your landline phone before you began to dial his number, tangling the long cord around your fingers absentmindedly as you did; you tried to dismiss the nervous pounding of your heart, the way you bit at your lips in anticipation of hearing his voice again.

“Hello?” you’re gulping slightly at the sound— part of you wasn’t expecting him to actually answer. Clearing your throat softly, you muster up the courage to do what you’ve been hesitant to for so long. 

“Hi Soobin,” you start softly, listening to the small hum of acknowledgement from the other side, “I— I’m sorry to bother, but I just wanted to ask; I have to make another trip to the forest— it’s urgent— and I… well, I was wondering if you’d be able to accompany me. For protection.” 

The shyness and hesitance in your voice is horribly apparent; it makes you face burn and your hands grow clammy, feeling as though there’s a lump in your throat as you wait for him to respond— it feels like eternity, but in reality, it’s merely seconds—- and you’re practically slumping against the wall in relief when he gives you a soft of course I can in response.

“Wait for me inside until I get there,” he says, and you nod, letting out a sound of affirmation as well, “I’ll be quick.” 

Soobin hangs up promptly after; you’re left to scurry around your home in preparation of your trip, changing out of your sullied work clothes and into something more comfortable— inevitably, the same coat from before finds itself wrapped around your form, and as you wait by the doorway with your wicker basket in hand, you realize with a smile that the item is practically drowned in Soobin’s scent— the item is wrapped around you tighter and your nose is burrowed deeply into the soft plush-like material, your senses spinning with the warm, earthy smells that belong to the man. 

The sun is setting— but he’ll be here soon, a fact only proved by the sound of footsteps your keen ears manage to pick up on; you’re practically racing to make it to your front door, only to pause at the sound of something else— more footsteps. 

Instinct brings your body to the floor and away from all windows; your back is pressed up against your door, ear pressed tightly against the wood as you remain alert, subconsciously holding your breath in fear of getting spotted in any way— but whoever is currently surrounding your home knows you’re here, judging by the way they take careful, calculated steps closer to your door— you will your heart to remain calm, to not alert them that you currently lean on the very item separating the two of you, but the fear that courses through your veins is simply too strong. 

Your mind is racing a mile a minute; you try to calculate who it could be, why they’re here— and you’re thinking back to Soobin’s warnings the night before, eyes widening as you scold yourself for being such a naive idiot— because as you pick up of the soft sounds of sniffing and low growls, you realize that you’ve managed to lead a pack of wolves right to your home. 

It all happens too quickly; you’re running from the door at the sudden spike of scents, like a dirty smoke that approaches your door in the blink of an eye— the wood practically flies off its hinges with the way it’s broken into, a scream involuntarily leaving you as you grab the nearest thing to you as a weapon— the fire pit poker is thin and old in your hands, but that’s the last thing on your mind as you back away slowly, taking in the wolves that make their way into your home with sheer terror. 

One, two, three— it’s only three of them, but it’s enough to have your limbs trembling and your ears pressed flat against your head; tall, broad figures, disheveled in appearance and looking at you with eyes dilated, filled with nothing but a carnal hunger that makes your stomach twist into knots. 

It’s a standstill. They watch you with coy smiles and blown out eyes, watching as you press yourself against the wall, wondering if you can make it to the back exit of your home if you try enough— but they’re perceptive to even the most miniscule movement, every twitch of your muscle garnering a step closer from any one of them; you remain still, and so do they. It’s silent, save for the ragged heavings of your chest and the low grumbles that resonate from theirs— they have yet to make a move, locking eyes with the tallest and watching as his lips quirk into a smile.

You feel nauseous. They’re toying with you.

They could easily take you— kill you— in a split second; the second you try to run, they’ll be hot on your heels, outmatched three to one and left at their mercy entirely. And judging by the way they practically salivate at the smell of fear that radiates from you, you don’t think your fate with them will end well.

You gulp. They watch you, keen eyes taking in the way your throat bobs, the tears that fill your eyes— the way your legs look as though they’ll give out on you any moment now, the flimsy poker in your hands nothing but a joke as you point it at them in warning— as though it would do anything, they muse. 

One of them, with a head of ginger hair and eyes sharp as a knife, begins to approach; you tense, bringing the poker forward more, inhaling sharply and taking a step back— but that only garners a sharp growl from another, with pitch black hair and a gaze so threatening it renders you pliant; hesitantly, you meet the eyes of the man who stands before you, narrowed eyes taking you in with amusement. 

He reaches towards you— again you tense, flinching at the movement and weakly yelling at the wolf to stay back—! But it can only come out as a breathless whisper, your entire being rendered useless, instincts doing nothing but telling you that this is it; accept your fate, it tells you, weakening your muscles and sending off waves of fear so thick the room reeks of death and rot; your figure shrinks the moment he grabs your poker, ignoring your clearly empty warning as he lowers it forcefully, fighting easily against any strength you had left. 

“Don’t be afraid,” he smiles, baring his teeth that only makes your blood run cold— sharp canines, strong and in great condition to bite and chew even the toughest of meats— “We’ll take good care of you.”

A sharp growling impedes the man before you from closing in on you, from taking away what little space was left between you— the sound is loud and furious, making the three wolves before you turn immediately in search of the source; including you, the foreign sound making your knees buckle and the poker fall from your hands as you paralyze with fear. 

Standing in the doorway is a figure you remember quite well— the sight of him makes your eyes widen and you heart flicker a dim light of hope, watching the way he sends the three wolves before you a pointed glare, enough to make the two nearest to him avert their eyes the moment his gaze lands on them. 

“Beomgyu,” the wolf near you sneers, “what the hell are you doing?”

He doesn’t bother answering the question; his eyes land on you, on your figure that visibly trembles with fear, nostrils flaring at the scent that radiates from you and fogs the room— and he growls. 

“Get out.” 

It’s a simple command given by the man— Beomgyu—  to the others, eyes filled with an unbridled rage that makes the others flinch; they’re confused, glancing to where you remain frozen before they’re turning back at the man, as though waiting for him to back down on his words— instead, he bares his teeth, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed with rage, and repeats himself. 

“I said, get. Out.”

Silence; you can hear your heartbeat thundering in your ears as you watch the two wolves glance at the man with the bright head of ginger hair— as though looking to him for their next move. The two remain in a standstill, refusing to look away from the other, as though silently communicating. And after what feels like eternity, the wolf near you scoffs, lips upturned in annoyance as he finally looks away— he turns back to you, eyes scanning your shaken figure, and he smiles the moment your eyes meet.

“Don’t expect any mercy from him.”

You’re sure you might be on the verge of fainting as you watch them all exit, one by one; tails practically tucked between their legs, only wolf to make a fuss being the orange-haired one from before; you watch the two of them bare their teeth and make comments you can’t quite pick up on, pressing yourself firmly against the wall and jumping the moment they snap warningly at each other— a threat to bite, the sight of their sharp fangs enough to have you retreating slowly to the exit of your backyard. 

The second his back is turned from you, watching the wolves retreat to the forest, is the second you make an attempt to escape— hurried steps leading you to the kitchen, walking backwards in order to keep an eye on him— your shaking hands remain pressed against the wall in an attempt to keep yourself upright, keen eyesight taking in any small movement from him, body alight with adrenaline as you wait for the moment you can book it. 

His ears, a dark auburn just like his hair, twitch; his head snaps over to where you stand, dilated eyes meeting yours in milliseconds. 

You’re turning around to make a run for it— the floorboards creak behind you from the very sound of Beomgyu running after you, a yelp leaving you involuntarily; your feet are falling harshly on the cool tile of your kitchen, but before you can so much as outstretch your hand and reach for the doorknob of the back exit, strong hands are wrapping around your middle and spinning you around, away from your last taste of freedom. 

“Please!” you cry out aimlessly, a pained groan falling from your lips as your back collides with the wood of your counter; you’re pinned into the very corner, tears pricking at your eyes and weak hands pressing against the strong chest of the wolf before you— your eyes remain glued to the floor, soft tail trembling with abandon and ears willing hopelessly to hide your face. 

“You’re running? After I just saved you?” is all you get in response, his voice gruff and genuine as he remains unfazed at the weak pushes against his chest; his arms cage you in, body impossibly close to yours as he looms over you, watching the way you cower and make yourself shrink with wide, interested eyes. “Why do you run from me, my flower?” 

The pet name makes your stomach lurch; a soft sob escapes you, eyes closing in defeat as your mind makes peace with your demise— your shoulders shake with every attempt of yours to breathe properly, every inhale only flooding your senses and clogging your mind with the scent of the wolf above you, like a thick smoke that burns your lungs and leaves your thoughts impaired.

Beomgyu is all but salivating at the sight of you; your soft, fragile body, the tremble of your limbs, your pure and fluffy ears that are pressed flat atop your head, hands subconsciously gripping onto his shirt in a feeble attempt to keep yourself upright— your heartbeat overwhelms him, quick and panicked just like your scent; it makes his brows pinch together and a confused pout form on his lips, the familiar, delicate flower no longer radiating from your figure.

“Are you scared of me?” he murmurs, ears twitching in curiosity as you remain silent; he leans down, willing to get close even after you continue to shrink away in response, curling into yourself and keeping your chin tucked in dutifully; his hand flies to your waist in attempts to prevent you from shifting away any further, rough claws digging in through your dress and making you jolt in surprise— a shaky breath leaves your lips, the wolf that continues to inch closer to you, cocking his head in fascination. His eyes all but burn through your skin. 

“Don’t be afraid,” he whispers, lips brushing against your temple as he speaks; you remain frozen, stiff, feeling the way he continues to wander down, nosing at you softly in search for a sign of that sweet, intoxicating smell you once gave off. 

“You’re safe with me— remember?”

Your voice remains stuck inside you— all you can muster is another shaky breath as you feel his lips brush against your jaw, wandering along until he’s at your ear— then he trails down, forcing your head to tilt as his nose runs a soft line along the column; a weak whimper falls from your parted lips the moment he presses down against your pulse point, feeling him inhale slowly before he presses a soft kiss against your sensitive neck— like an automatic reaction, warmth blooms from the spot, spreading through your body, your heart telling you to calm down— but you refuse, and though Beomgyu is able to smell the sweet vanilla and the flowers that blooms from his action, it all dies into one muddled mess that leaves him to huff frustratedly. 

His hands have begun to wander— large and warm, sharp claws scratching at your garments and running up your sides before he hugs you tight, pressing your figure flush against his— and as have his lips, pressing soft kisses against your scent gland repeatedly, in search of the scent that he was only granted a mere glimpse of— soft, careful kisses at first, listening to the way you whimper and cry against him, trembling hands balling up his shirt in your fists— only to feel himself grow more desperate, out of control, his lips parted and harsh as he presses his kisses against one of the weakest points in your body. 

Beomgyu’s nose is sharp, is able to pick up on even the slightest changes within your scent— so when he picks up on the warm, subtle twinge of vanilla that peeks through everything else, he’s unable to find himself exhibiting restraint. Warm and wet, you feel his tongue press against your skin, the sharp, accidental scratch of his fangs following after— and you gasp, eyes wide open and staring at the ceiling above you as your mind finally processes what his intentions truly are, feeling your instincts take over soon after— the moment of clarity passes, and your vision fogs; your body melts against Beomgyu’s.

You’ve been sandwiched between the counter and Beomgyu’s body; even more so now that Beomgyu’s felt you submit to him, head lolling to the side and displaying your most fragile part to him, a smell of vanilla, warm and sweet like a pastry, filling his lugs soon after— you’re presenting yourself to him, eyes glassy and lips parted as you simply let out a shaky exhale. 

Your legs are parted with every attempt Beomgyu makes to get closer to you, feeling him stand in between them as he continues to cage you in, continues to kiss and lick along your exposed skin, huffing and sighing in satisfaction with every soft keen you let out in response, your mind and soul still convinced that your time has come to an end. 

From a distance, Soobin senses it; he sees the dim lights of your cottage, the door that is left ajar, crooked on its hinges— most of all, he’s able to pick up on the intoxicating sweetness that escapes from the cottage, the innocent jasmine that’s intertwined with the scent that travels with the wind— and his ears stand straight, keen senses straining to hear the soft sob that leaves your delicate lips— his body reacts before he can, and he runs straight to you. 

The sharp call of your name is all Soobin can get out before he stumbles to a stop at the kitchen doorway— his eyes remain wide and focused on the sight before him, body on edge and tail stiff as he grits his teeth in rage. 

Your doe eyes meet his instantly— they’re shining and incoherent, and Soobin wonders if you’re even conscious of where you are, of the way you whine out his name in the most fragile tone he’s ever heard. The rest of you is covered— you’ve been pressed tightly against the kitchen counter, back arching backwards due to the sheer pressure of the body that weighs you down; ragged clothing covers your own, the pink coat obscured by a white flowing, dirtied white button up, falling off the owner’s shoulder and pooling at his elbow— Soobin’s eyes follow the line of movement, taking in his arms disappear behind your waist, forcing your lower halves to be glued together, your dress bunched up at your thighs from the crude way they’ve been forced open. 

“Soobin,” you whine again, taking his attention as he watches a hand of yours appear from where they were caged in, outstretching shakily toward him before it falls limp, hanging over the arm that pulls you closer against him. 

Dark, long hair covers the face that is buried in your neck— ears of the same color adorn the top, twitching with interest at the sound before they stand forward— roughly, the head emerges from its hiding place, eyes blown open with nothing short of hunger; the wolf before Soobin bares his teeth and growls, hugging you tighter against him, stepping back and shielding you away from the dog’s view. 

Soobin doesn’t hesitate to mimic the other’s threats— he means every bit of it and more, face alight with rage and body poised in an aggressive stance— and though your face has been tucked into the wolf’s chest, though the arms that wrap around your body attempt to prevent you from being seen at all, Soobin is still able to catch glimpse of your tail that quivers with fear, of your figure that shakes pathetically from instinct. 

Loud, angry growls and spiked scents fill your senses and leaves you docile; Soobin’s sharp, strong pine mixes with Beomgyu’s thick, intoxicating smoke, painting the scene of a burning forest as they continue to warn the other, narrowed gazes and sharp canines creating yet another standstill. 

Beomgyu’s eyes catch onto Soobin’s restlessness with ease— and before he’s able to make a move, Beomgyu is manipulating your body once more, spinning you around and pressing your back firmly against him, feeling the way you follow his every command without a second thought— and when you present yourself to him for a second time from pure instinct, Beomgyu grins; his eyes lock with Soobin’s and his head cranes down, dangerously close to your scent gland that continues to release its tempting smell.

“Stay.” is all Beomgyu growls out, eyeing the way Soobin freezes immediately, wide eyes watching the way Beomgyu’s mouth opens, tongue lolling out lazily before it’s running slowly against your shoulder, gliding along until it stops dutifully against the joint of your neck, pressing down to feel your pulse— Soobin flinches, undoubtedly wanting to lunge forward, but is stopped again by the wicked smile Beomgyu sends him, sharp canines meticulously on display. 

You’re all left frozen— Beomgyu’s arm that has been thrown around your waist toys with the hem of your cute coat, the other that presses against your heart feeling the quick pounding against his palm— and he laughs, inching his hand up slowly until it’s around your neck, his index and thumb exuding little effort to keep your head upright, watching your eyes slowly meet Soobin’s.

“Any sudden moves,” Beomgyu begins again, eyes flickering down to your neck, watching the quick rise and fall of your chest with fascination, feeling the way your throat constricts with every swallow against his palm— and he smiles, looking back at Soobin and allowing his tongue to run over the top row of his teeth leisurely, “and she’s mine to claim.”

Silence; Soobin takes a moment to weigh his options, to inspect the scenery before him— the wolf means it, Soobin is quick to realize, seeing the way he all but drools over your exposed neck and faint figure— and he meets your eyes again, attempting to decipher what you may be thinking, only to realize that you’re not composed at all; you’ve been stripped down to nothing but your basic survival instincts, and yet it seems as though your brain has told you that it’s best to give up any fight you have left inside you.

Soobin feels his jaw ache from the way his teeth grit together angrily— and with a soft huff, he becomes the first to look away from Beomgyu entirely, turning his head in defeat and forcing his body to back down. 

“Good dog,” Beomgyu coos mockingly, grinning unabashedly at the sight of Soobin’s face twisting up in anger; he turns to you, placing a slow, lingering kiss on your cheek before he murmurs softly into your ear. “My flower, don’t you want to show him how perfect you are for me?” 

Beomgyu doesn’t expect a response from you; the way you whine and shift restlessly against him is enough, having already felt him rutting against you the moment he had you caged against the counter— and he continues to do so, even now, the hand on your throat forcing you to tilt your head, allowing him access to suck and bite on the clean canvas of your skin; your eyes flutter shut, and you’re left to rely on his strength to hold you upright, body rocking gently with every thrust that is delivered from the wolf behind you. 

“So sweet for me,” Beomgyu groans, his hands letting go of their respective places before they begin getting busy; your legs feel shaky and you’re left to watch as he undoes the ties of your coat, slipping it off before he reaches to bunch your thin skirt at your waist— you gasp softly, face heating up at the feeling of being so exposed, hands flying to pull down your skirt on instinct— but you’re granted no such reprieve, stilling immediately as a growl leaves Beomgyu’s lips at your action.

Soobin’s head is snapping back at the two of you at the sound of the threat— his eyes widen and he inhales sharply, a clear mistake that only makes Beomgyu grin— your scent, thick and progressively needier, clouds Soobin’s mind, clouds his judgment, unable to do anything more than stare at the way Beomgyu has you in his arms, canines still glittering under the soft lights of your home as a constant warning. 

“You smell it too,” Beomgyu speaks, his words less of a question and more of a fact— Soobin’s eyes dilate and his nostrils flare that moment Beomgyu’s lithe fingers begin to wander around the hem of your panties, feeling your thighs press together and your hands grip at his forearm shyly; from Soobin’s distance, he’s able to pick up on the tears that hang on your waterline, the way your lip quivers from the humiliation of being exposed so crudely. 

“Innocent thing…” Beomgyu murmurs, dipping down to swipe the pad of his middle finger across your slit, listening to the yelp that escapes your lips, feeling your body buckle against him— and sure enough, a spike of your scent follows after, like an addicting toxin that only fuels the desire of the two canines before you, “So tempting. So good.” 

You’re crying softly at the way he continues to tease you, overwhelmed by the foreign sensation, mouth parting in shock as his hand sneaks past the waistband of your panties; you feel as though shocks of electricity flow through you the moment he brushes against your clit, teasingly at first, only to begin circling it steadily soon after— and you can only moan and whine for more, unknowingly bucking your hips forward in search for something else that can satisfy you. 

When your eyes meet Soobin’s, you can only feel a hot wave of shame flow through you— his expression is unreadable; is he embarrassed of you? Disgusted, ashamed that you have already given in to the simplest threats? You’re not remotely near as strong as he is, you defend yourself mentally, you’re sure that it was either this or— or…

“You filthy mutt,” Beomgyu spits out beside you, laughing softly at the way Soobin has yet to take his eyes off you, eyes narrowed meanly and brows tugged together, an expression that could be easily read as rage— but Beomgyu knows better, watching as the said man jumps at the sudden sound of the other’s voice, gaze hardening the moment they lock eyes; Beomgyu huffs out another mocking laugh. 

“You like this, don’t you?” Beomgyu asks, as though he were sharing a secret— behind you, you feel his hips buck against you, able to feel the hardness of his cock as he uses his free hand to press just below your navel, forcing you back on him— and you gasp, his ministrations against your clit never ceasing as he continues to fuck against you slowly, groaning breathlessly at the feeling of your warm body against him; Beomgyu’s eyes never leave Soobin’s, however, pupils filled with nothing but a mocking joy as he continues breathlessly.

“You want her.”

Another wave of arousal floods though you at his words, filling the room and reaching the two men before you with ease; you’re able to see and feel the way their chests rise slowly, the way they take in your essence before letting out pleased sighs, their own strong, heady scents filling your senses as you simply flutter your eyes shut and whine with need.

“No need to deny it,” Beomgyu grins, leaning his head against yours fondly, middle finger abandoning your clit to tease your entrance, your mouth falling open and hips twitching in surprise at the feeling— the man behind you simply watches with amusement, watches the way you meet Soobin’s gaze shyly, body heated up with embarrassment as you can only let out pathetic cries and breathless gasps with every new stimulation— and Beomgyu’s finger enters you slowly, meticulously, angling himself just right; your vision is fogging at the stretch, hands gripping onto the strong forearm that helps keep your upright as you merely beg for more. 

“I’m sure she’d love to give you a show,” he continues, palm pressing against your clit, other hand guiding your hips to roll steadily against his hand— he chuckles softly at the way you’re pliant for him, following his every command without a second thought, “filthy, greedy thing.” 

Though Beomgyu directs those comments at you with a voice of acid-like hatred, the way he stares at you is anything but; his eyes are just as keen as the rest of him, willing to not miss a single reaction you make for him, from the way your voice breaks with need to the way your fingers twitch helplessly against his skin— his body buzzes with a desperate energy, his cock pulsing and begging to be inside you the longer he feels you rock helplessly against him— lucky for him, you seem to be getting just as desperate. 

“Get your filthy hands off her,” Soobin seethes, though he’s unable to make a move to get you away— a single twitch of his tail enough to garner a harsh sneer from Beomgyu, teeth snapping together in warning— the idea of having you claimed, taken, and possibly killed by the monstrosity that holds you hostage is enough to keep Soobin complacent for now, undoubtedly waiting for the moment the wolf no longer has easy access to such a vital part of you to make his move.

Beomgyu doesn’t heed the other’s comment— if anything, he laughs, prodding a second finger at your entrance, forcing the other to listen to the way you perk up and cry in panic, poor inexperienced body not used to the stretch, to the curve of his fingers as he presses against your soaking, tightening walls, calloused skin making you shiver as he forces you to grind against him, to fuck yourself on his fingers. 

“Hmm? Don’t touch her?” Beomgyu asks, curious fingers stretching you open slowly, grinning at the way you throw your head back against his shoulder and whine, a hand slapping over the arm that currently fucks your slowly, pressing against it in feeble attempts of getting more, “What, does it upset you that you won’t be getting to her first?” 

With a particularly calculated thrust of Beomgyu’s fingers, you’re jolting up and letting out a broken moan; he proceeds to continue to abuse the weak spot within you cruelly, watching with an amused gaze as you continue to fall apart against him like clockwork. You’re getting wound up quite quickly, not used to the intense feeling of pleasure being provided to you— and Beomgyu takes in the sight eagerly, smiling in amusement before he’s stopping abruptly, watching your head hang and your chest heave from the sudden loss of stimulation. 

“Does it anger you?” his fingers slide out from your cunt slowly; you twitch at the feeling of emptiness, barely processing the way his hand slowly snakes its way back up, grabbing at your neck and forcing you to look forward again— his fingers, covered in your arousal, prod at your mouth, and in your dumbed state, you can only follow his commands and part your lips dutifully; your tongue circles around his digits and your lips close around them, flushed face painting a lewd scene that only makes Soobin tense; beside you, Beomgyu smiles wickedly. 

“Knowing that you’re about to watch her get fucked open— get knotted good— by a wolf?” 

Soobin thinks he might be seeing red at this point; his hands remain by his side, closed into a tight fist that has his nails threatening to break through his skin— but that’s the least of his worries, especially with the way your ears twitch and your body perks up at the wolf’s words— both of the men are able to pick up on your reaction with ease, one clearly much happier than the other at the sight. 

“You know, if you behave, I might give you a turn.” Beomgyu looks over at you, chuckling softly before he removes his fingers from your mouth, only to grab at your face and turn it roughly to look at him; his fingers dig into your cheeks and his forehead presses against yours, taking one glance at your hazy expression before he’s cooing softly. “I’m sure you’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

All you can do is muster a broken whine in response. 

Beomgyu is letting go of your face with a soft chuckle; slowly, you muster the courage to look forward once more, inevitably meeting Soobin’s gaze as a result— his expression is unreadable, and it makes your knees feel weak— your mind races to try and decipher what he may be thinking about, left unaware of the way Beomgyu has let go of your dress, letting the skirt fall slowly over your front as he busies himself in lifting it from the back instead, allowing himself access and grazing your skin curiously; it is only then that you’re coming back to your senses, heart rate picking up with a panic and body bristling the moment you feel the wolf’s hands wandering across the swell of your ass, muttering soft praise that doesn’t quite reach you— a firm hand grabs at your waist, keeping you in place the moment you tried to shift away from him shyly, tried to cover yourself with a weak protests that only garnered yet another growl; with wide eyes, you looked to Soobin, unaware of the helplessness that coated your glassy pupils. 

“Soobin,” you cry yet again, blood growing cold at the way he simply seems to stand and watch; his gaze seems to have wandered, seems to have been following Beomgyu’s every action, adam’s apple bobbing at the sudden sound of impact that filled the room, the sound of your yelp followed by the sight of your pathetic hands attempting to swat Beomgyu away, easily overpowered the moment the wolf gathers your wrists in his tight hold and scolds you to stay still, his claws digging threateningly into the soft skin— and again, your head whips back around to look at Soobin, ignoring the keen stance of his ears and the slow, interested sway of his tail as you simply call out to him again, “Soobin, please…”

You’re not sure what you’re begging for any more. All you know now is the feeling of Beomgyu’s broad chest pressed against yours, the muddy feeling of your brain as smoke fills your lungs, allowing your head to loll back against his shoulder, allowing your hips to begin to grind back against the hard bulge that has begun to tease you, shivering softly at the way Beomgyu’s head remains buried in your shoulder, pulling you back against him firmly— you barely register the way your voice whines in protest the moment you feel his lips pull away from your delicate skin, abandoning the gentle kisses and sucks to sneer triumphantly, his low voice a half-hearted replica of yours as he proceeds to parrot your words softly. 

“Soobin…” Beomgyu sing-songs, reaching his free hand down to tug at the waistband of your panties, soaked through with arousal that leaves your inner thighs shining pathetically; the said man is snapped out of his trance immediately, enticed gaze hardening the second his eyes find Beomgyu, chin perched on your shoulder leisurely as he continues to tug your panties down, feeling the way they slip down your hips ever-so slowly, “Soobin, come here.”

When Soobin refuses, Beomgyu scoffs— though, he doesn’t seem to be surprised in the slightest. 

“Come on Soobin,” Beomgyu repeats again, softly this time, eyes half-lidded as his mouth dips down to kiss your skin; right at your scent gland, tongue darting out before his eyes dart up to lock eyes with Soobin— you can feel goosebumps form on your skin as Beomgyu laughs breathily, mouth still open as he proceeds to nip at the spot gently; not enough to break skin, not enough to leave a mark, but enough to make you squeal and jolt in surprise. Soobin flinches. 

“Come.”

It takes a pleading look from your tear-brimmed eyes for him to move. A slow, hesitant step first, pausing momentarily to gauge Beomgyu’s reaction— the said man quirks a brow in amusement, a silent encouragement to continue— and Soobin finally finds himself looming over the two of you, eyes dark and narrowed as he watches you reach out for him with a trembling hand— curling his shirt into your fists, leaning forward and resting your forehead against his chest, body unintentionally arched forward and left in the perfect position for the man behind you— Beomgyu simply coos softly at the action, a false sense of endearment that makes Soobin’s teeth grit with rage; when their eyes meet, the wolf simply smiles. 

“Kiss her,” Beomgyu says, the words almost inaudible from how softly they were uttered— but then he’s grabbing at your head and forcing you to look back up, ignoring the sound of protest you make and holding you up by your jaw as he tilts your head to look at Soobin, fingers squeezing your cheeks and forcing them into a soft pout, “Go on. She’s dying for you to touch her.”

Beomgyu speaks as though he were the one in control of your body and mind— and perhaps he is, you find yourself thinking, teary eyes unable to communicate anything more than want as you feel your panties slowly dragging down your thighs, the wolf behind you hissing softly at the sight of the string of arousal that sticks to the fabric, your slick cunt tightening around nothing in response— Beomgyu’s fingers find themselves teasing your entrance again, three this time, dipping in and out of your cunt, stretching you yet leaving you craving for more.

“I…” Soobin breathes out, reaching out slowly for your face; Beomgyu’s rough hand retreats, and it’s replaced by Soobin’s large, gentle ones that cup your face and stroke your cheekbones, watching the way your eyes flutter up to look at him, tears clinging to your lashes like crystals; his eyes follow the path one makes as it falls, thumb wiping it away softly as he finds himself leaning closer, watches the way your lids fall and leave your eyes hazy and obedient.

This is it, Soobin realizes, eyes flickering back to where Beomgyu continues to tease you, much too lost in the sight of your cunt trying desperately to suck in his nimble fingers to pay much attention to the two of you, this is his chance— he can save you. 

You seem to catch onto Soobin’s calculative gaze quite quickly this time— and your heart flutters with a slight hope, your chest falling in quick, shallow breaths as your hands tighten against the fabric of his shirt— his eyes flicker back to yours from the action, taking in the way they hold that innocent light of yours he’s always adored— and his heart breaks. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. 

There’s nothing you can say to that; his lips are on yours before you can so much as let out another breath. They’re soft, hesitant, as though you could shatter if he touched you wrong. His hands shake slightly as he holds your face close to his, feels the way your mouth remains frozen for a second, only reciprocating once you’ve felt the soft pass of his tongue against you— and your overwhelmed mind blanks entirely. For the final time tonight, you submit. 

The kiss is slow, it’s deepening out of your control, and it’s everything you imagined many moons ago, when you first began to feel a spark of desire for the man before you— when you swooned and flustered at the comfort you found in him, the warm feeling that always settled in your chest when he was next to you, knowing you could always go to him for protection. 

So as you feel his hold on you become firmer, feel the way he sighs against your mouth with no intentions to let you go soon, you wonder what it is you feel now— trapped between the two canines, lungs burning and and mouth left open as you allow Soobin to venture inside, not allowed any reprieve from the man who keeps you close, a soft groan leaving your lips as your sensitive ears pick up on foreign, slick sounds behind you, hisses and sighs of pleasure from another— because the feeling that pools in your stomach isn’t remotely reminiscent of the gentle, delicate warmth you always felt around Soobin; it’s hotter, angrier, greedier— it begs to be satiated and throws away the last good sense of judgment you had within you. 

“Soobin— oh god, Soobin—” you hiccup suddenly, finally able to escape from the said man’s mouth that seems to chase endlessly after yours; even now, you still can’t help but cry for him, your body unprepared for the sudden feeling of a cockhead swiping at your slit, the wet noises that arise from the sheer arousal that continues to leak out of you. You cry and you beg with hot shame burning at your skin, unsure of whether you plead for mercy or for more— your body arches and your hips seek for more, cunt throbbing at the feeling of Beomgyu’s tip pressing at your entrance, his rough hands rubbing circles along your ass absentmindedly, but your heart twists and makes a thick lump build in your throat, wishing nothing more than to be experiencing this all differently, in the comfort of your room and in the secure, warm embrace of the man in front of you— you wish for something more intimate, something as gentle as the love you felt. 

But all Soobin does is watch. He strokes your hair with a slow hand and cups your cheek fondly, presses a lingering kiss to your forehead before wandering down to press another at the tip of your nose— and he soaks up the pitiful sounds that make your voice break, feeling your hands attempt to steady themselves against him as Beomgyu begins to enter you; slowly, salivating at the way he feels your walls stretch around him, struggling to adjust to merely the tip— he stares down at your dripping pussy with a parted mouth, letting out a slow breath at the sight of your legs that threaten to buckle and your fluffy tail that goes wild with every inch he eases in— and he finds himself having to take deep breaths to not take you as he wants then and there.

“It’s okay. I know, I know— I’m right here, I’m right here with you,” Soobin murmurs against your skin, placing slow kisses along your jaw, allowing you to duck into the crook of his neck for solace— and he smooths your hair as he feels you nuzzle into him, eyes hooking onto the sight over your shoulder of Beomgyu entering you, the feeling of his hips flush against your ass bringing about another shuddered sigh from your lips, nails digging into Soobin’s chest as you attempt to overcome the new sensations. 

“I got you, don’t worry my doll,” Soobin utters, a hand going to place itself on top of your own, intertwining his fingers with yours before he begins to weigh it down, to guide it down his chest— he lets out a shaky sigh, feeling you cry and squirm against him, “It’s okay… just relax and you’ll feel good, okay?” 

“Don’t you wanna feel good?” Soobin coos against your temple, eyes fluttering shut as he feels you nod against his shoulder, feels the way your hand has successfully breached past his underwear, pants already undone and still guided by his much larger hand as he brings you to palm him slowly, wrapping your shaky fingers around his length; you’re hesitant, unsure of your actions as you allow Soobin to show you what to do— though, you don’t think your brain has truly processed what he’s doing with you yet, preoccupied instead by the thick smoke along with another smell that leaves you feeling lightheaded, along with the feeling of hands groping and smoothing over your skin as a heavy cock continues to twitch inside you. 

Beomgyu isn’t quite fond by your sudden shift of attention; his lips remain upturned in distaste, watching intently as Soobin continues to use you however he likes, your face that remains hidden in his neck directly able to smell the calming, dizzying scent Soobin exudes, placating you and dumbing you down to nothing but a fuckdoll for him— his eyes trail down to where he has you jerking him off slowly, Soobin’s lips pressing kisses to the top of your head as he continues to murmur soft praises that have you melting against him— an unfamiliar, hot streak of rage courses through Beomgyu’s system at the sight. 

“So ungrateful,” Beomgyu scolds suddenly, reaching forward to grab a fistful of your hair and bring you back— he’s forceful, uncaring of the way you protest, an arm that’s wrapped around your stomach pressing you flush against him as he forces the two of you to move— and you’re left bent over the counter, face pressed against the wood and wrists secured behind your back as Beomgyu bunches the skirt of your dress at your hips and bottoms out inside you once again; you hiss at the feeling, looking to the side to see that Soobin is unfazed by the action— if anything, his eyes cloud with lust at the scene before him, taking in the way you’re stuffed full and arched prettily with a gulp. 

“Why won’t you pay attention to me?” Beomgyu asks breathlessly, looking down at your pliant figure with blown out eyes, tail whipping side to side in anger as he catches the way your gaze still seeks out Soobin’s, eyes unknowingly pleading for reassurance— and he growls, low and heavy in his throat, catching the attention of both of you successfully— but he only cares to have your eyes on him, fully engrossed in the way your mouth falls open and your eyes roll back the moment he ruts into you with rough, slow thrusts. 

“Look at me,” Beomgyu groans, pulling out slowly as he speaks, all the way out until the tip of his cock is the only thing catching at your entrance. You’re squirming, trying to move your hips back against him, but the brutal hold Beomgyu has on you keeps you in place; ears pressed flat against your head, you look over your shoulder, back at the wolf who continues to fuck his tip into you with subtle thrusts, sneering at your glassy eyes that continue to look at him with a jarring innocence. 

“That’s right,” he breathes, sinking into you oh so slowly, filling you up and laughing cruelly at the way your hands scramble to hold onto something for stability, for a simple comfort Beomgyu denies, “Eyes on me.” 

Beomgyu fucks you to prove a point; he fucks you so your eyes roll back and your mouth spills moans and whines dumbly, cock filling you to the brim and stretching you out in a way you never knew was possible— the sounds are lewd and has your skin burning, slick, wet sounds of skin against skin filling up the room and mixing along with your cries of pleasure. Beomgyu doesn’t seem to be doing any better than you, transfixed entirely on the sight of your cunt sucking him in eagerly, dripping with slick that makes his cock shine and falls to the floor in a mess, of your ass that ripples with every smack of his hips against you— this is all so new to you, he can tell, your body buzzing with an insatiable need that turns you into nothing more than a cock-hungry whore, your tail wiggling desperately with every harsh thrust of his, as though hypnotizing him to keep going.

The sight of you— a drooling, crying, moaning mess— is the polar opposite of your sweet, naive self, your trusting self that got you into this situation in the first place— and it makes Soobin’s cock twitch with raw lust, the spectacle of you becoming ruined so easily something he never thought he’d witness; such a pure thing, Soobin always felt as though you needed to be treated like glass— but Beomgyu is more than willing to prove that’s not the case with you, growling pure filth at you as he continues to fuck you into the counter, watching the way he hovers over you, practically caging you in with his body, as though wishing for the two of you to become one. And just like before, Soobin watches. He stands to the side and listens to every sweet mewl of yours attentively— after all, he’ll get his hands on you soon enough.

“Tight little cunt— fuckin’ takes me so well,” Beomgyu murmurs into your ear, panting and groaning at the way you tighten around him, “such a good girl for me— shit, you like that? Like it when I talk nice to you?”

Beomgyu is quick to catch onto every little reaction of yours, including the way you tighten hopelessly around him every time he sings soft praises into your ears; it makes you want to hide your face in shame and deny his questions, but you barely get a chance to speak with the way he fucks you— fat cock stretching you out, leaving you speechless as he continues to pound into you firmly, sloppy mouth nipping and marking all over your neck; feeling him on your shoulders and back, canines brutishly ripping at your clothes to get more access to your innocent skin, feeling the way your walls squeeze with every scratch of his sharp teeth against you, eager to get his lips onto any part of you he can. 

“Fuck, fuckfuckfuck, you’re— shit– you’re squeezing me so tight, can barely fuck you,” he rambles off, hand letting go of your wrists so he can grab your hips and pull you back onto him— you’re wailing at the feeling, hands failing to stabilize you as you hold onto the counter, eyes screwed shut as you babble at Beomgyu to slow down— but of course, he doesn’t listen, too caught up in the feeling of you to pay any attention, “Oh, are you close, sweet thing? I can feel you— can feel you getting closer.”

“Do you wanna cum?” He asks you in that same, sweet voice laced with faux pity, smiling unabashedly at the way you immediately nod in response, giving in to his brutal pace, “tell me how bad you want it then.” 

“Please… please let me…” you trail off, unable to communicate properly with the way Beomgyu continues to fuck you, not granting you any mercy as he watches you struggle, “need– need t’cum, want it, feels so good.” 

Beomgyu laughs, the sound labored and breathy from the way you clench around him throughout it; he finds himself glancing over to where Soobin continues to watch, the sight of him focused entirely on your figure making him sneer— his eyes are hypnotized by you and his ears twitch at every weak word that spills from your mouth, lips parted as he all but drools for you— the drastic contrast in character has Beomgyu’s lips twitching in amusement, wondering just where that overprotective bodyguard of yours has gone.

“Yeah? Am I making you feel good?” he mocks, watching as your bowed head nods instantly; he huffs, glancing back at Soobin before he coos softly at you, “Who’s making you feel so nice? Tell me, pretty thing.”

The sudden mention of the pet name is enough to set you off unexpectedly; your mind goes blank entirely, save for a single thought that continues to roll of your tongue like a mantra: 

“Beomgyu,” you cry, sobs wracking at your body from the intense feeling, your voice interrupted with loud, uncontrollable moans, “You— it’s you– Beomgyu— please, please— too much…!”

Beomgyu continues to fuck you until your legs tremble and your body weight is placed entirely on the counter, hips held up entirely by the strength of the man behind you as he finally heeds your pleas; he slows until he’s bottomed out inside you, feeling the way your walls continue to pulse as you whimper quietly at the sensitivity— such a touchy thing, Beomgyu muses to himself, looking down at your messy cunt and feeling the way his cock twitches, still in need to fill you up properly.

“Can’t take anymore?” Beomgyu asks apathetically— and though you weakly let out a sound of affirmation, you can tell he doesn’t really care to hear your answer; not with the way he strokes at your skin in fascination, wandering hand pulling at the base of your tail and watching you squeal in surprise, body arching in an attempt to get away— you all but slump into a pool of overstimulation once he finally lets you go, foggy mind barely able to pick up the way he tsks. 

“Don’t lie— you can, I’m sure you can,” Beomgyu tuts, watching with amusement as you pout and petulantly shake your head, “you’re a good girl, you can take whatever we give you.” 

You don’t seem to process the meaning of his words to a full extent— you’re too far gone to do so, body turned weak as you continue to try and stabilize yourself, chest heaving with every breath you take. But it doesn’t matter if you’ve caught on to what’s happening around you, your every movement taken care of by the two men that cage you in— your shudder at the feeling of Beomgyu pulling out of you, the slick sound drowned out by the crude praises Beomgyu growls; two, strong hands are pulling you up next, proceeding to maneuver you so you sit on the counter— Soobin stands between your legs, looking at you with eyes filled with want and an undeniable pity; he takes in your worn, marked and messy figure intently, watching as his eyes linger on the rips of your dress and the marks all around your shoulders. His hands go up to the area, and your eyes flutter shut, body craving to be covered, to be coddled and tidied. 

“Such a perfect doll for me,” Soobin sighs out, beginning to tug down at what’s left of the material, watching the way you shudder and open your eyes with a slight shock— a whine bubble up at the back of your throat, but you can’t really find the strength to protest the way you’re slowly left undressed before the two pairs of hungry eyes before you, no longer able to find the energy to feel embarrassment from being left bare— Soobin’s voice is as gentle as his movements, feeling him lift your hips so he can slide the dress off you properly; it wasn’t very hard to do anyway, the fabric practically hanging together by a single thread, “It’s alright… I’ve got you.” 

When Soobin wraps your legs around his waist and hoists you off the counter, you can only wrap your arms around his shoulders and lean your forehead on his shoulder, seeking for more of the scent that calms you down and leaves you mindless; your grip tightens the moment you feel the head of his cock poking at your entrance, painfully hard as he sighs out shakily at the feeling of your sensitive walls fluttering at the feeling— he’s stretching you out slowly, filling you up, and all you can do is bury your head into his neck and try to calm your breathing, taking in the thick sage that fills your senses.

Soobin stays buried deep inside you for a moment, cursing at the tight embrace of your heat around him; you allow yourself to relax— it doesn’t last long though, body jolting with shocks as you feel another head poking at your already stuffed cunt. 

“Wait— wait– I can’t— too full, it won’t fit…!” you cry out, looking at Soobin in a panic; a broad chest pressed firmly against your back, familiar lips pressing a chaste kiss to your shoulder— Soobin’s eyes are dark as he takes you in, ears forward and twitching at your pleas; softly, he shakes his head in reassurance.

“You can,” is all Soobin murmurs, watching your face twist as Beomgyu begins to push into you— little by little, stretching you past your limits, resting his chin on your shoulder and shutting his eyes at the sensitive feeling— tears stream down your cheeks freely, soft hiccups escaping you as Beomgyu’s hips press flush against you from behind; Soobin reaches up to caress your head, to pet gently at your ears, and smiles. “See? You’re doing so well. You can take it.”

You shake your head to refute his claims— but it’s not as though that would change the way they’ve begun to slowly pull out, setting their individual paces that inevitably work together, leaving you full no matter what— and it has your head falling back, mouth falling open dumbly as they begin to fuck you; slowly at first, gently, only because your poor cunt has yet to adjust to the size of them. But once they feel the way you leak onto them, the way your cunt begins to clench as their tips ram into places that have your eyes rolling to the back of your head, they begin to find the confidence to use you how they want. 

Eventually, you’re nothing but putty in their arms; weakly grabbing onto anything you can for support, one finding a firm grip onto Soobin’s shoulder as the other ventured to tangle itself in Beomgyu’s hair— the said man continues to keep his head buried in your neck, lips having a mind of their own as he continues to nose at your scent gland; the action of him nuzzling against it, of him scenting you, is enough to have you a whining mess, fingers tugging at his hair desperately; it only serves to have him fuck into you harder, hips snapping ruthlessly against yours and rough groans escaping him from the pleasure. 

“Fuck, such a good cunt, so tight— ah,” Soobin groans, watching as your eyes flutter open to look at him, teary and catching the moonlight that shines down through the window; he cups your cheek, stroking at your cheekbone fondly as he speaks, “so pretty… you’re so pretty, all I’ve ever wanted— god, you’re perfect.”

The look of adoration Soobin gives you isn’t lost on you entirely— but there’s something else that rears its head within his gaze, hungry and desperate, threatening to swallow you whole— and you realize that, for the first time ever, Soobin seems to be staring at you as though you were nothing but prey; something for him to claim and own. 

But it seems as though he’s not the only one who possesses those particular feelings— Beomgyu’s pace seems to be growing erratic behind you, knocking you forward against Soobin’s chest and leaving you to wail at the feeling of his cock ruthlessly pounding into you, uncaring of the rhythm the other has set in place; he mumbles gruff words against your neck, but it’s all muffled and interrupted by huffed out moans he lets out in between— but your poor cunt seems to catch onto what he might be saying quite clearly. 

“C-close, oh shit, ‘m so close,” Beomgyu says, finally perking up from his place in the crook of your neck to speak directly into your ear, placing sloppy kisses at your jaw as he does, “Ah, d’you feel that? Yeah? Want me to cum inside you?”

You know what his question really entails— you know what your answer should be. But your body simply trembles and your brain short circuits at the thought, traitorous to the last bits of reasoning within you as you dumbly nod at his request; he lets out a moan at the sight. 

“Yeah, you do, don’t you? Want my knot, wanna be bred— ffffuck, I’ll give it to you, I’ll knot you, make you mine,” his every movement has become erratic; Soobin finds it hard to continue fucking you, undeniably sensitive to the harsh pace the other has set— but Beomgyu doesn’t care, leaning in close to your ear to whisper his next words. 

“I’ll claim you,” he breathes out, enjoying the way your little tail thrashes against him at the sound, panic filling your tone for a second before you melt into the idea, too fucked out to be able to refuse anymore— if anything, you tighten like a vice around the two, bringing out sensitive sounds from the two; Beomgyu continues to ramble into your ear, much bolder now that he’s taken control of the situation. 

“You want it— oh fuck, yeah, you’ll make such a pretty mate, all for me,” he growls, his words slipping to the other’s ears and alerting him, his eyes widening yet his pace not stopping, “all mine— mine, mine mine— o-oh, shit—!”

It all happens so fast. The swelling of a knot inside you, stretching you out to the point where you find yourself sobbing, pawing at whatever you can and begging for them to slow down, to be gentle— hot cum fills you, your cunt only able to handle so much as Soobin’s cock is pushed out, just enough so his own knot doesn’t catch, his orgasm triggering immediately after— it’s so much, yet it’s not enough, your whole being pulsing with desire for the final thing to push you to the edge— and it comes in the form of sharp canines digging deep into your neck. 

The right side of your neck stings— then, your left. Two sets of teeth have found their home within your skin, the last of your freedom stripped away as your orgasm swallows you whole— you tremble and you twitch within their hold, cunt filled and leaking with their cum, unable to do anything more than lie within their embrace and take what they give you. 

Your eyes feel heavy; you will yourself to stay awake, but your vision becomes spotted within moments— for the first time in a while, your mind is able to find peace.

 ≪ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆≫  

When you finally wake, you find yourself surrounded by warmth; with heavy blankets over your figure, you’re able to recognize the place as your room. You attempt to look around, but are immediately met with a searing pain— the night’s events flood through your mind all at once, and suddenly, you’re able to sense the presence of two others next to you; their arms wrap around you and they remain glued to your side, one embrace much more familiar than the other. 

Through your line of sight, you’re able to spot the moon that peaks through your window, hovering just above the dark, looming canopy of the forest. You stare and you stare, unsure of what to make of everything— of what you’re feeling, of the bodies that shift beside you, pulling you closer to them, as though it could never be enough. 

Your eyes sting, and after a second, you find yourself mourning. Mourning for your loss of freedom, for the overwhelming amount of sensations you were put through, and for this complex, dangerous situation you’ve been thrust into. 

You were warned of the forest; you were warned that nothing good came from venturing within. 

But even then, nothing could have saved you from the creatures that roamed beyond.

[phoenixfire7894]

Okay, this might be controversial but Hua Cheng is inherently not cool! And I don’t mean i don’t like him or anything, it’s just, the whole series is told via the perspective of Xie Lian and you know, Xie Lian thinks Hua Cheng is the most incredible person ever! He’s super biased!!

Like, mans made over ten thousand status to his crush he’s had since he was ten. Lowkey pathetic. Made an entire ghost town and named it “Flower City” because Xie Lian was a flower god. That is simp behavior. I’m a hundred percent certain that if we heard the internal monologue of Hua Cheng when talking to Xie Lian it would be him panicking cause he doesn’t wanna fuck up.

Now, the main reason I bring this up is that too many people don’t acknowledge that out of the two of them, Xie Lian is the cool one! Sure Xie Lian’s luck is garbage (hah pun cause he’s the trash god lmao) but he is inherently the coolest of the two.

Like, do you wanna know what is the most badass thing? It’s when the traditionally polite character loses their shit. Sure Hua Cheng burned the temples of 33 gods but that will never be as awesome as Xie Lian slapping Qi Rong across the face because he is typically level-headed and a lot needs to be done to make him react with such a way. There is nothing more badass than being calm and collected when the world goes to shit when you have the strength to resort to violence (excluding ur cousin being an asshole, this rule doesn’t apply then, beat the shit out of them).

Tldr: Xie Lian is cooler than Hua Cheng; Hua Cheng would probably agree with me so I’m probs right

Edit: So there has been some discussion about my post lol and I want to clear up some stuff. First of all, I don’t think I worded this very well which is my bad lmao (I kept the post above the same so that people know what others are talking about). I do think Hua Cheng is cool, I just also acknowledge that a lot of the book is told via Xie Lian’s perspective so his good traits are gonna shine through a lot more. I was thinking more through a lens of other onlookers watching the Tgcf events go down (which I didn’t clarify so obviously my bad). I stand by my opinion that out of the two of them, I think Xie Lian is cooler than Hua Cheng but that’s an obviously subjective opinion that is grounded by Xie Lian being my favorite character in the series. Also some people have said “pathetic” is not the right word to use. I was using “pathetic” in a more charming way here like the “I love pathetic men” type way. I thought that people would get that. I was wrong. (Super sorry, *strums ukulele*)

I’m very sorry to the ones I have offended with this post lmao.

Tldr (but for the edit): I made probably not the best worded post (my bad babes) but I feel bad and would like to say I also think Hua Cheng is cool, I just wanted to go through and highlight how Xie Lian is also badass.

[sgiandubh]

People have opinions about kids, etc great state opinions, but when they post as absolute facts is the problem accompanied by fake voices on videos and blurred pix, that's a problem. Making up lies as facts are the problem. Denigrating Cait and or Sam or worse their families members because you have no real proof is wrong and goes beyond having a peaceful opinion.

Dear Opinion Anon,

First, our traditional spelling bee, because you people still did not learn how to write properly, ok?

People have opinions about kids, etc. great Great: state opinions, but when they post as absolute facts is the problem, accompanied by fake voices on videos and blurred pix, that's a problem. Making up lies as facts are is the problem. Denigrating Cait and/or Sam, or worse, their families' members, because you have no real proof, is wrong and goes beyond having a peaceful opinion.

Look at you, little fascist who knows nothing about the subject-verb agreement in English grammar! Being told what is right and what is wrong by someone clearly unable to properly read and write does not help, pumpkins. Send in your green berets, next time, please: this is way past boring!

I always said I shall speak only for myself on this page. So I am asking you:

Where did you see that particular video on this blog?

Where did you see those funeral pics on this blog? Let alone I explained why I never posted them and you bunch of coward liars all cackled. At length.

Where did I insult Sam's family members on this blog?

Where did I insult Cait's family members on this blog?

When and where did I stalk Sam, Cait or their entourage, unlike one of your queens?

And the question summing them all up:

Do you have a problem with freedom of speech in general?

People post whatever they want to post. They do not need me or you or Moo or *urv or Marple to tell them what to think or post. It is their constitutional right. This is not North Korea: this is an immaterial, almost completely deregulated space, where the demand for information meets the available offer via clicks, shares and comments. Other information is traded in DMs, Telegram groups and other outlets.

Have I made myself clear?

I'll tell you what. You are at once very nervous, curious and afraid of the whole bunch of things we collectively know. You still cannot understand how and why we are still here. You are perplexed by the number of intelligent professionals that are actively debunking all the shite you post regularly. You are upset by the fact real, strong friendships exist in here: something perhaps unheard of in your halls of gloom. And we elicit this reaction only based upon roughly 10 to 15% of the whole content in our, again collective, possession. If you knew all we know, your brain couldn't take it, duckie.

And then I know something else:

No shipper, ever, phoned an employer of an Anti to explain their employee was on Tumblr instead of doing their job.

No shipper, ever, phoned resorts, hotels or airline offices around the world in an attempt to find out where S, C, their progeny or other side players were, at a given moment in time.

No shipper, ever, used their own contacts' network to send false messages about the other side of the fandom war to the two leads, STARZ or the OL production team.

No shipper, ever, sent heinous comments on Anti blogs.

No shipper, ever, harassed Twitter and Instagram posters with endless questions about the time, place and people present at a randomly given event.

No shipper, ever, mounted via sock accounts a whole denigration and calumny campaign on Twitter when one of the leads was involved in a PR blunder.

No shipper, ever, used sexually loaded vocabulary to express 'appreciation' for the actors' work.

No shipper, ever, went on Wikipedia to repeatedly edit the male lead's dedicated page in order to include false sexual orientation reference, which then was screencapped and used as 'evidence' in subsequent flaming wars.

And many more...

You know, people have criticized me for even answering you. But answer you I shall, every time I shall think a reminder is necessary. I think shippers have turned the other cheek for way longer than they should have: a strategic choice that gave you both space and confidence. That you all went in a frenzy just before Christmas tells me perhaps more than you'd think about the kind of people you really are.

I am done with you. Don't bother coming back - you will be immediately blocked: you, your terrible grammar and your impertinence.

[samwinchesterpregnant]

this is just a little unfinished something (i’m not going to post it anywhere else until i edit it it’s literally a notes app fic so i’m sorry for everything)

sam is jealous of dean’s small-town girlfriend while dad goes off to hunt a ghost in missouri. he resorts to bad behavior to remedy this.

sam is a teenager but it’s sfw

they’re in pike county in the dead, dry peak of summer and there’s nothing but corn fields, fire flies, and casey’s gas stations as far as the eye can see.

but dean’s found something to do, he always does. some pretty little thing who’s dad worked at the button factory in pearl and left her alone all day to find her own fun.

looking at her makes sam want to spit. she’s got this farmer’s daughter thing going on, with long, sun-streaked hair down her back and freckles all over her nose and her shoulders. she shows dean around town, they make out at an abandoned house the neighborhood kids are scared of and she takes him to a dusty old lake where al capone supposedly dumped his mistresses aborted babies— or something nasty like that. sam tags along, because of course he does.

dad is checking out a haunting just across state lines in missouri making some old lady’s walls bleed. he told them to stay put and lay low. sam’s days stretch on; long and endless and tepid. there’s nothing better to do besides trail behind dean like a lost puppy and shoot bethany or becca or becky or whatever her name is rude glances over dean’s shoulder when his head is turned.

he just doesn’t like her. if she weren’t hanging around so much, sam reasons, everything would suck marginally less. they would still be in butt-fuck midwest nowhere, but at least they’d be able to do whatever they wanted instead of whatever she wanted. and dean wouldn’t be tripping over himself like an idiot trying to look cool to impress her.

in any case, sam took no measures to disguise his disapproval, because becca or brinley or brianna seemed to have reached much the same conclusion.

she bristled visibly when sam answered the door to the creaky, old, half furnished-by-a-dead-lady house they were renting for dirt cheap in pittsfield. sam had overheard, in muffled protests, her suggestion that sam not join them on their trip to the movies that evening:

“wouldnt it be nice, yknow, to just go somewhere just us? get some privacy? i mean—“

“i don’t see what the big deal is. sammy likes ghostbusters, he won’t talk through it or anything.”

“dean, i just think—“

and then, there was the way she sometimes (sam swore) really truly startled when sam entered her line of vision. as if he was a snake in the yard hiding under a garden hose, one you couldn’t see until you were way too close. like he was a creepy crawly scaly sort of thing.

and it was true that this summer he had been feeling more like a creepy, crawly, scaly sort of thing than anything else. oftentimes, laying out in the grass in the flat midwestern heat, he felt like something was shifting beneath his skin, lurking like a latent disease— a gene gone wrong that just needed a flip to switch and activate something nightmarish inside him.

his outer appearance revealed none of this. he was, maybe, more comely than he’d ever been. freshly grown out of his puppy fat; legs impossibly long and lean, the bones in his face suddenly coy and cervine, skin golden and eyelashes sooty and downturned like a calf. it was almost as if these two developments went hand in hand. this latent urge— this dark feeling under his skin, and his sudden metamorphosis into something desirable. he surmised that maybe a missed tick bite had given him lyme disease. or maybe it was prions from curiously prodding roadkill on the lucky occasion. either way, sam winchester felt positively terminal.

regardless of all that (ticks and prions and snakes and bethany/breanne/brenda or whatever), what it really was about was dean, dean, dean.

sam was out of school for the summer, dad hadn’t taken dean with him to missouri, and so, thusly, naturally, it was time for dean to shine upon his brother with the unwavering and uninterrupted attention he was fully capable of giving.

this had been the way, ever since they were children. their summers were famous.

last summer, somewhere in nebraska, they’d stayed for two weeks in an abandoned house sam had broken into with a pair of pliers. dad had gone to find a werewolf in the neighboring county, and the boys, tired of the stuffy motel, had made their own vacation with a mattress pad and a flashlight and the hole in the ceiling on the top floor where they could see the stars. they’d found an old calendar from 1946, and some weird canning jars in the basement that looked like a science experiment.

it was still fun even when dean stepped on a rusty nail and sam had to pull it out (with the same pliers) and swore that if dean died of tetanus, he’d take himself out, too. unfortunately, it hadn’t come to that.

summer was supposed to be their time together. not dean and brittany and their third-wheel. sam latently wished they were sewn together.

to remedy this, sam made preparations.

the next time they were at breanna’s dull little rambler in griggsville, sam snuck off into the bathroom (which smelled vaguely of jasmine, cat piss, and mildew) and rifled through the drawers until he found a lavender conair brand hairbrush with a jelly handle covered in fine blonde strands. surreptitiously, he tugged a clump free from the bristles and shoved it into his pocket.

he returned to the living room where ghostface flickered on the television that sat on the tan carpet, feeling sort of smug. it wasn’t a difficult task, but he’d gotten what he needed.

smiling wryly in the way he knew revealed the dimples on his cheeks, he climbed back onto the couch and slung his bare legs over dean’s lap, socked-feet kicking in brenda’s direction. she shifted away with a frown as dean slung his arm around sam’s shoulders, his other hand coming up to rest on his bruised knees, drumming his fingers there.

bethany sat her chin in her palm, seeming to be withholding a look of mild disgust. sam beamed.

later that night, the hair went into a jar with:

a handful of graveyard dirt

a rancid lemon

shards of glass

a rusty nail

a few drops of blood

sam pissed in it and buried it in the backyard which should, allegedly, solve the problem.

[alwaysthesitter]

Since I'm already being attacked behind my back, I'm making a post. And then, as I do, I'm going to move forward and just keep writing with those that want to.

Long story short, as mentioned last night, I dealt with transphobia. I went to my PERSONAL FACEBOOK asking for support due to being in extreme duress and put some of the quotes. No names (not like any of my personal friends but one know my rp friends). Apparently that was me "leaking things" to people. When confronted about it I said i had never received an apology for the transphobia and left the server I was in.

This proceeded in me being told, "Fuck you, you deserve everything that's happening to you" (I'm guessing a reflection of being told yesterday I'm scared with what's happening to trans folx) and now said person is telling people to look into my past and my call out that was, if you all remember, proven false and redacted.

I'm just saying this to cover my ass. I'm not giving names because that's hypocrisy and goes against everything I stand for. If you unfollow me, fine, but I'm saying this so you all know that you might be outreached with shit against me and this is my stance.

Now I'm going to continue on writing and loving Steve like I always have because that's why I'm here, not petty drama.

Continued under post.

EDIT: She has now made a post about what apparently 'happened' while completely stretching what I said to fit her narrative, as if I don't have literally 45 screen shots of the full convo. What's funny was she deleted the server right after the convo claiming she wanted a "fresh start" (after a year of us talking together, suddenly she wants a clean slate? I'll keep my opinions on that out). But I had already screen shot everything, so. -Shrugs.- It was not one transphobic comment. It was over and over and over again. Based on a conversation that she started (which she even admits in the screenshots). And the irony is that in this post she says she "recognizes now that the comment was insensitive" but it was literally an hour ago that I said I was hurt I still hadn't gotten an apology at all and she told me fuck you. It's clearly trying to victimize herself in the situation, and I'm smh.

Tldr; I know I did nothing wrong. I don't deal with transphobia. I'm not going to sit back and be the aggressor when I'm fighting for my right to exist every day. I'm not telling people to choose sides, because that will never be me. I just always think that everyone needs to understand both sides, so I am putting mine out there. I'm not sending screen shots unless needed as a last resort to protect myself because I think that's petty, but just know that I'm done with being lied about to fit people's narrative. I'm just trying to be here and be at fucking peace, man. That's all I've always wanted.

[yourmybluebanisters]

i’m really tired of people using the edited audio clip, recorded by Johnny of Amber saying "I didn't punch you. I was hitting you, it was not punching you". People use this clip as a way to claim that amber was the abuser which is completely false.

Over years of abuse victims usually change the way they react when trying to survive abuse. Depp would always profusely apologize to Amber after he assaulted her. Johnny writes: "Once again I find myself in a place of shame and regret. Of course, I am sorry. I really don't know why, or what happened. But I will never do it again ...... My illness somehow crept up and grabbed me. I must get better. And I will. For us both. Starting today. I love you. Again, I am so sorry. So sorry." Amber explained that she tried many ways to diffuse the arguments, but the cycle of outbursts then apologies then more outbursts continued no matter what she did. "In these fights, I would try to stand up for myself. By December 2014, I was pushing back, I'd push him off me, I tried to hit his hands away. I tried to always get back up, which would almost always made it worse, always seemed to provoke him. But I tried. I would yell at him, scream at him. I'd call him ugly names. So ashamed of the names we'd call each other. It was awful. And we both got into that pattern. I felt so angry that this was happening to me, and it just felt so unfair. Nothing I did made him stop hitting me. Nothing. I tried for over a year, maybe two, of just not responding physically, not responding verbally, just staring at him. I tried to freeze, I tried going to a different place. I would try then lashing out verbally. I would try to threaten that if he hit me again that I would call the police. I tried to do everything. I even threatened to leave him - tried to leave him. Nothing was working. And I think by this point in our relationship, we're both saying awful things to each other, screaming at each other and, unfortunately, when Johnny would start hitting me, he'd just win." This struggle Amber had with dealing with his violence matches with what their marriage counselor, Dr. Lauren Anderson, said. Anderson testified that Amber told her "she felt she had to hit him back if he hit her so she always did.". Amber was fighting back in that relationship. Do you really believe that 22-year-old amber an unknown actress at the time had any control over 44-year-old Depp with a long well-established career and greater influence/wealth/fame/ fanbase? It is impossible for her to be the one in control in a relationship with someone clearly so much more powerful. It is also notable that in these recordings in which she admits to hitting him, she owns up to her acts and apologizes to him, while he continues to call her names and gaslights her. Her admitting to resorting to violence in self-defense, about having screaming fights and saying horrible things, shows her honesty and makes her sound more credible and trustworthy. In contrast, Johnny claims to be a perfect person who never ever hit any woman, not once, not even in self-defense. This is actually one of the characteristics of DARVO, namely" denying abuse completely". Someone who uses DARVO often also goes on to say that their victim was the "real abuser" and they were the "real victim". The acts of self-defense by their victims are used by abusers to make the abused look like the abuser. Johnny released these edited audio tapes through his minion Adam Waldman to the media and used a bot network to create the narrative that Amber is the abuser. Experts have expressed concerns that this trial is offering abusers a way to exert their power over victims. Amber was the victim. And if you can not admit to that there is something wrong with you.

[m0llygunn]

/735662509094289408

oh but it does ruin the friendship. ~the angst commences~ imagine him toying around with someone, only because his own life is so difficult to control and he’s sick of it. he’s sick of his life being so unpredictable and troubled, so he resorts to using someone else’s to play around and have fun with. he’s the puppet master and the poor person just takes it because they actually love eddie💔💔💔he wants to kiss them one night (because he feels particularly unlovable that day so what better way to release the pain by inviting his ‘friend’ over) and tells them exactly that, “a little kiss wouldn’t hurt our friendship”

so they kiss. and it all goes to shit. they go off on eddie, “i can’t do this anymore! you’re playing with my feelings and it hurts me so much…do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?! i can’t stick around you anymore, i’m out of here,”

and then eddie is left to think about what he’s done.

anyway sorry for the random story, i was just thinking about it cuz i sure love me some angst <///3 and i think it’s interesting to look into a side of eddie that wouldn’t be particularly likable. lmk what u think tho. do u think eddie would come to develop actual real feelings for this person? would he even apologize at all and would it even work out?

ok i’m done now hope u have a good day :) ✨

nono don't apologize i love the story, thank you!! also i love the puppet master analogy, obviously because of master of puppets, but also because I used to be a puppeteer at a local theatre company!! you're speaking my language lol

i'm just gonna put a read more here so that this isn't a long post, and clickable link here to the referenced post!

I also really like the whole 'unlikable' kind of characters thing, and especially with Eddie's background, I always think that him serving those sorts of motifs produces very fascinating storylines. Canonically he has such strong redeeming qualities, that I think giving him some bad qualities never seems all that terrible, plus its just fun and interesting to read! In terms of how it would end, in my opinion, I think it definitely depends! Sorry thats kind of a bad answer but it could go so many ways? Like in some scenarios it could be the catalyst to them getting together, but it also could be the catalyst of things going really wrong if Eddie isn't willing to change. I also think that if Eddie were to pick on someone it would be because he already likes them to start with, so he would have to go through a lot of internal processes to come into his own, and eventually be able to move forward for sure!

Side note— I've actually been working on a sort of 'morally grey' characterization so I'm interested which ending is your preference? Like angst angst or happy ending? (my thing's already written, I just haven't had it in me to edit it, but spoiler its kind of like those movies where nothing happens but everything changes, but also nothing changes? very unproductive storyline but I think that in itself is valuable because life follows that storyline quite frequently).

I read a fic before kind of like your story so i just went for a deep dive looking for it lol I think you might like it! You can click here for it :) This one is from Eddie's pov so theres a lot of his internal processes, and I think it's just a good read.

Another fic that comes to mind is a series. It's a bully!eddie three part-er (i think) with a pick your own ending (which i think is soso cool and you don't see very often), so maybe you'd want to check that out too! Link is here for that one! I also like how this one gives a preface to why Eddie becomes a 'bully' and I just really like the story in general!

If either links don't work, let me know! I'll probably reblog them after this too :)

sorry this was so long omg, but thank you again for sending me your story, I truly appreciate it and love it sm!! (also i saw your other ask and I want to write something for it but it might take me a while with exams and everything come up, sorry!)

[shaydystheshadowqueen]

IP-Neutral Disneyland

So, bit of backstory, I was reading some rumours about the Mickey Mouse copyright expiring and one silly rumor was the concept of Mickey being replaced by Figment in the parks, which is obviously completely unlikely considering not just the recent park updates (Toontown being a big example) but also that it means replacing an IP character with a Park Exclusive character, which with the recent IP-happy park designers would be a likely no. But what if it was the opposite? What if, instead of a theme park with several IP based attractions and areas, you had a theme park with ZERO IP based attractions and areas? That means nothing based on films, tv shows, or books and only using original property created for the parks ex. Haunted Mansion, Big Thunder Mountain, etc.

Let’s start this experiment!

For this experiment, I will be focusing on the og park Disneyland California as it is the oldest and also I own the Disneyland Encyclopedia Updated Third Edition (2017) so I can look back through history to see if an IP attraction had an IP-neutral past. I'll be putting aside the three IP-heavy lands, Fantasyland, Toontown, and Galaxy's Edge for the end.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

MAIN STREET USA

Nearly all of Main Street is non-IP so the only changes would be removing some of the movie specific stuff (though the place did have a theatre that showed actual movies so you could excuse showing Disney cartoons and movies). Also, Jolly Holiday Baking Café would have to go, likely replaced by the old Blue Ribbon Bakery.

TOMORROWLAND

Simply put, no Star Wars or Pixar. This doesn’t mean losing the rides, just altering them. Finding Nemo’s Submarine Voyage just needs to return back to it’s old non-IP ride Submarine Voyage. Astro Blasters can have a similar theme of being a space patrol officer defeating alien criminals, just without Buzz Lightyear (although I kinda wanna sneak in some TV references). As for Star Tours, you could have a similar theme of rouge smugglers trying to get a person of interest or package away from government forces… or you can have it be like Space Jungle Cruise where you’re touring real or fictional planets and maybe something goes wrong. Possibilities are pretty endless with Star Tours virtual ride system. Speaking of embracing Tomorrowland’s past, the spot where the IP Pizza Planet is used to be where Mission to Mars and Rocket to the Moon were, so why not theme the restaurant to be set on Mars or our Moon!

ADVENTURELAND

@disneylanddilettante had a very good IP-neutral treehouse concept called Castaway Treehouse. As for the famous Indiana Jones ride, I do have a solution from the eastern parks: S.E.A also known as the Society of Explorers and Adventurers is a Park Exclusive fictional group that exists in several attractions including Mystic Manor and Fortress Exploration. It also has several members that are spread through Disney’s attractions (ex. Dr. Albert Falls of Jungle Cruise)… including Jock Lindsey from Raiders of the Lost Ark. So all Disney would need to do is replace Indy (and any other movie character from the series) with a different member of S.E.A. The rest of the ride can stay the same.

FRONTIERLAND

The only edit would be Tom Sawyer’s Island. Maybe rebrand it an outlaw hideout to fit the western theme. (Also no Fantasmic)

NEW ORLEANS SQUARE

No big edits except for restoring Pirates of the Caribbean to it’s former non-movie ride

CRITTER COUNTRY

Bit of history; Before the Song of the South ride came to Disneyland, the area of Critter Country was entirely based around a ride that proved successful in Walt Disney World and was made after the plans for a Disney ski resort were cancelled. That ride was Country Bear Jamboree and the land was Bear Country, a peaceful quiet corner of the park. In fact Splash Mountain was only added to bring more crowds in. So, in terms of fixing it, keep the Pacific Northwest bear theme and play with that. Disney has proven to be able to make original bear characters, add in a couple of American legends (Paul Bunyan for example) and keep Splash Mountain but make it an original story instead of Songs Of The South.

GALAXY’S EDGE

Obviously, we can’t keep this because the entire area is Star Wars. I do have two options for replacements though: The first is expanding Frontierland or Bear Country to create more natural landscapes for exploration or more ride space (and connect the two lands) The second is bringing in the lost Discovery Bay that would have brought a nineteenth century Barbosas Bay with plenty of unique attractions

TOONTOWN

Ok so this one might seem impossible considering the main mouse, but as countless video games and shows have proven, you can make a cartoon universe without relying on an existing real world cartoon. Hell the plot of Who Framed Roger Rabbit revolved around a fictional cartoon series! You can keep the generic toon-like world without the movie references, making it about a fictional cartoon world and having the rides be different episodes (or have one be an episode like Runaway Railroad and the other be a backstage tour of Toontown that goes wrong like Car-Toon Spin).

FANTASYLAND

The original IP zone, as was the intention of it during all it’s various concepts. So how do you make it IP-Neutral? Well for that I’m taking inspiration off one of the only two IP-Neutral rides in Fantasyland: The Swiss-themed Matterhorn Mountain and Matterhorn Bobsleds. I would LOVE to see more Switzerland architecture and castles cause it is BEAUTIFUL. Plus, Switzerland has quite a few myths that could make for interesting attractions, including William Tell, dragons, witches, avalance-surfing dwarfs, etc (actually that last one could make a fun alternate Mad Tea Party ride)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As you can see, some of the park wouldn’t change at all or very little (Main Street USA, Frontierland, etc) while others would be completely different from what they are today (Fantasyland, Critter Country, etc). Does it prove that Disneyland be better or worse without the IPs? I leave that to you guys to discuss, I’m just having fun with coming up with an alternatve to Unnecciary Sci-Fi Franchise Land.

[meanwhileinstasiville]

Facebook to me, is a lot of gutters on roofs and the backs of signs

At a bench by a tibetan plant, next to a repurposed former mob resort cabin, around twenty five feet from a dry baptism pond.

All that water goes somewhere; has nothing to do with the house. For a solitary person like me, all these messages people send to each other through Facebook's "implied intimacy" look like signs and signals.

A sign on a post when you aren't the intended audience (or maybe you're driving the wrong way) is pretty meaningless, but it *looks* like a message. Someone thought everyone should see it so some would see it.

Edit: This brought to you by a Facebook friend staging a photo of her changing a tire, maybe because her IRL friends thought it would help her get a date. A date that she may or may not have been looking for. And she's doing great for nothing coming of that all these years later.

And reading the "surface part" of rickochet's "hetero life partner" from the past, to see the bickering of their tag-program-mma-comedy troupe. They speak a language called friendship that the Facebook system doesn't yet understand. (And you wouldn't think he'd survive being as maniacal as he is, but he's there)

AND my childhood crush locking her profile, but leaving the links to her mom who needed a lot of healing, that she loves a lot, and who would never think Ill of her (yeah, I had one of those too). She has three parents like a dog. They don't speak mother daughter bonding at Facebook either.

[achillesmonochrome]

The end of an Era?

I didn't want to make any posts on my own or talk too much about it because for the respect I have left for this show, I kind of preferred just move on and not give it any more of my attention.

But then the Kiss with the Bees happened and even if I don't ship it anymore (oh that shit sailed A LONG time ago,) I was curious enough to start tuning back in.

And oh my, I don't regret, and is not for any good reasons.

What a shit show, I left this show at the beginning of volume 7 not because I was angry at their stupid ass decisions or they did something problematic (because I would had left even earlier if those were the reasons.) I just, legit couldn't be bothered.

I stuck with this show for as long as I did because I was a fan since the second trailer, I was part of the early community in the Latin American fandom, I did edits and fanfics of this thing. I rarely watch shows when there is still nothing of them yet and I was hoping if I saw this from waiting for the first episode to the final conclusion, it would be an experience to stick with me for a long time.

Yeah I chose the wrong show.

Because ADHD brain, I rarely stop watching things as a conscious decision, it ultimately ends up being me forgetting when something is coming out because I don't care enough for it. So for me to pause mid episode, and just decide not to bother anymore, was a big deal.

I ended up watching back when the Kiss of the Bees aired for a couple of things.

I never thought they would actually do it and they would just continue queerbaiting.

I was curious if they actually stuck the landing, considering I stopped shipping them years ago I wondered if they could actually turn it into something good.

Did I watch from the last point I watched to be up to speed? Pff no.

Watching the bees scene alone felt a bit odd since there are a few things that DEFINITELY felt like they are talking about someone's else love story, and other moments that didn't make sense to me. And after doing some digging watching the rest of the volumes actually makes the scene worse because at least I could pretend they had a good development.

Of course I caught on the other shit show parts, and decided to tune back in not because I thought it was interesting, but because the whole thing with Ruby and the Ever After made me wonder what kind of bullshit they were going to do next.

And oh boy, that ending didn't disappoint in that aspect!

I was laughing, like a lot, because a bunch of shit just didn't make sense; like hey maybe is my ADHD or english being my second language but what part of the anything that was happening to Ruby on the other side made her decide she wanted to be herself?

I could go into more detail into things that don't make sense, but really that's why I was laughing my ass so much.

So much shit happens and goes just because, and at this point I can only laugh at the dumbass writing decisions this show has.

Like I cannot believe that not only, this is the shortest season, the one rw//by fans needed to wait the most for (which yeah, covid, I will not give them grief for that part) but it ended up being all for nothing?

Again I understand that they may need to have a shorter season or take more time because of the pandemic, but what part of that means having a season that is practically just filler?

I swear is so hysterical I'm laughing.

In my opinion, there is no saving for this story. The villain goes into "It's so powerful it's a nightmare's writer to find a way how to defeat them" territory which I can't believe how fast they nosedived into that (Shonen villains normally take awhile before resorting into that shit thanks to the constant power scaling,) the story just keeps getting more convoluted and nonsensical and let's not talk about the characters.

And as funny as I find all of this, part of me is a bit sad you know? I cannot watch the trailers or the earlier seasons without feeling extremely sad at seeing all this potential turn into this.

Because don't get me wrong, the earlier seasons are not masterpieces or anything, not by a long shot. But there is a charm in the simplicity and over the top battle choreography; even when the story was about some teens fighting monsters on a special school, you could laugh with the characters and get a good time.

Now? I honestly thing, canning the show would be better outcome for this show, because there is no way to wrap up this nicely, and considering how much they are dragging this show even if they got all the seasons they wanted, I doubt it would be better.

One thing I must said, as a positive.

Thank RW//BY Volume 9, for teaching me how to watch shit ironically, that's the best I got.

Also, I like the music, I really hope the composers and singer can go to better places because they deserve better.

No idea if this show is actually canned or not, or if RT would go down (which honestly, I think they need to considering the systematic abuse the workers are facing can only be over with the company gone, because it really doesn't look like anyone is getting better there.) And the show will die from it.

Who knows? Maybe since they are owned by Warner, someone could bring back RWBY and know what to do it.

For now? I can't believe I am saying this, but this story may be better being canned that having an actual ending.

[jade-j17]

BBLS

BBL culture has been around in the Black and Latinx community for a while. Women with tiny waists and big butts were idolized heavily in the 2010s. Celebrities such as Kim Kardashian, Nicki Minaj, and Kylie Jenner significantly impacted making big butts trendy. Prior to this, the beauty standard was to be super skinny and have zero thigh fat and no butt. As their influence progressed, more and more people started to get plastic surgery to achieve the slim thick look. Surgeons everywhere were making a large profit and still are to this day. Women tend to see a lot of photos online of these crazy transformations and go one out of two ways. Some may start working out and go in the slow yet healthier route to achieve their dream bodies. On the other hand, some may want a “quick fix” and they end up getting surgery that is very risky and can endanger their lives. According to recent studies, Bbls, or Brazilian Butt Lifts, have been causing negative effects on the bodies of women who aspire to have perfect bodies similar to the ones they see on social media. The photoshopped images uploaded online have set unrealistic beauty standards and, as a result, have caused many women to resort to harmful body enhancement procedures in order to achieve what they deem as the “perfect body.” A ‘botched’ body is what it is called when the surgery goes wrong, and the bbl does not look very promising. Many surgeons utilize Instagram to promote their services, but it’s important to note that the results may vary from person to person. The health risks and even how well someone’s body may take anesthesia will also affect each person differently. The costs associated with bbls have skyrocketed to such an extent that people are resorting to cheaper alternatives, even if they are potentially causing their lives. I always remember my mother bringing up the fact that on Facebook, someone died due to the risks of plastic surgery, especially in a third-world country. Dr. Miami takes advantage of the TikTok platform to connect with his audience, and this generates interest among women seeking to book him for their subsequent surgery. He occasionally showcases the results of his clients in order to attract viewers. However, the downside to such impactful marketing on such a large platform is that it perpetuates the narrative that women need to change themselves to fit into a certain beauty standard. Despite this, it’s hard to deny the engaging nature of Dr. Miami’s approach. Social media isn’t any better. Women photoshop their bodies heavily, and it is usually people with a larger platform that do this in order to create the idea that they have the bodies they are editing. In reality, they look nothing like that. Fashion Nova and many clothing brands are known to do this because they market to the bbl community. This creates an idea in women that because they do not resemble the models that are being heavily edited, they cannot purchase said clothing. This again results in the desire to get surgery to fit the characters they want to play. Bbls have become so common that freshly turned 18-year-olds go to get their bodies done because they believe that their bodies wouldn’t change. In reality, our bodies are still evolving, and for a young adult, basically a teenager, to get her body done because social media is pushing her to do so, it should not be normalized. Even TikTok accounts are created and dedicated to showcasing the difference between the “social media vs. reality” photos of celebrities and models in their natural state versus their social media personas. Witnessing the contrast between reality and social media is truly jaw-dropping. It gets so bad to the point where there is an entire story on how a girl injected pig fat into her butt because she wanted to fit into these beauty standards that clothing companies, celebrities, and social media have set. Marketing should be used to promote healthy lifestyles and inclusivity, not lethal surgeries and dishonest pictures.

[rphelperblog]

Unravel Me Quote Rp Meme

Book 2 in the Shatter me Series by Tahereh Mafi- feel free to edit or change pronouns for rp purposes

“Books are easily destroyed. But words will live as long as people can remember them.” 

“I can't be my own person if I constantly require someone else to hold me together.” 

“In my very limited experience I've already found that people seeking power are not to be trusted.” 

But it's a lie, it's all a lie; every person, place, thing and idea is a lie. I do not function properly. I am nothing more than the consequence of catastrophe.” 

“Hope can make people do terrible things.” 

“How am I supposed to go back? How am I supposed to forget what it was like to be with you? To be loved by you?” 

“... I'm starting to think that this situation is the exact antonym of excellent.” 

“I don't have the time, the energy, or the interest to deal with your problems.” 

“I'm wondering how many more mistakes I'll have to make before things finally fall into place. If they ever will.” 

“You know, you have a really strange way of telling me you’re attracted to me.” 

“I don't know how to hate you anymore. Even though I want to and I know I should but I just can't."

“Beautiful. He's so beautiful. I must be insane.” “Maybe he and I really are perfect for each other.” 

“Loneliness is an old friend standing beside you in the mirror, looking you in the eye, challenging you to live your life without it” 

“I clung to something like hope, to a thread of maybes and possiblys and perhapses.” 

“I want to convince you to design a smile just for me.” 

“My heart is pounding so hard I'm surprised it's not bleeding.” 

“I love it when you say my name, I don’t even know why.” 

“A handful of letters doesn't always make a word, love.” 

“Because if I lower my voice, I won’t be able to hear myself speak. And that, is my favorite part.”

“It’s the kind of kiss that makes you realize oxygen is overrated.” 

“I don't know much about anything in this world but I do know how to read the book written in his eyes.” 

“I have nine different weapons concealed on my body right now. Would you like to choose the one I use to shoot you in the face? Or should i?” 

“I wish someone would remind me how to breathe.” 

“We are synonyms but not the same.” 

“I am so tired, love.I'm so very,very tired.” 

“I want to trust but it scares the skin off my bones.” 

"Do I look like the kind of guy who's never had a girlfriend? Have you even met me?” 

“How can you be ashamed of an attempt to be better?” 

“We breathe when we're wrong, we breathe when we're right, we breathe even as we slip off the ledge toward an early grave. It cannot be undone. So I breathe.” 

“He has dimples.He's easily the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.And I wish I'd never seen it.” 

“Because it's so hard to be kind to the world when all you've ever felt is hate.” 

“I think about what will happen if no one fights back. I think about a world where no one stands up to injustice.” 

“I have a heart, says science, but I am a monster, says society.” 

“Nothing in this life will ever make sense to me but I can't help but try to collect the change and hope it's enough to pay for our mistakes.” 

“Sticks and stones keep breaking my bones but these words, these words will kill me.” 

“The truth is a painful reminder of why I prefer to live among the lies.

“Time goes on even when we do not.” 

“Please don’t shoot me for this.”

"Just because I'm going to hell doesn't mean you'll ever deserve her.”

“I want all of you. I want you inside and out and catching your breath and aching for me like I ache for you.” 

“I'm falling apart and into his heart and I'm a disaster.” 

Only those who cannot express themselves intelligently would resort to such crude substitutions in vocabulary.” 

“I'd appreciate if you'd grow the hell up and stop walking around like the world crapped on your only roll of toilet paper.” 

“Look who’s the smart-ass now.”

“You are so confident.You're stubborn and resilient. So brave. So strong. So inhumanly beautiful. You could conquer the world.” 

“The books...they helped keep me from losing my mind altogether.” 

“On the darkest days you have to search for a spot of brightness, on the coldest days you have to seek out a spot of warmth; on the bleakest days you have to keep your eyes onward and upward and on the saddest days you have to leave them open to let them cry. To then let them dry. To give them a chance to wash out the pain in order to see fresh and clear once again.” 

“He's standing right in front of me and I miss him like I haven't seen him in years.” 

“You know there's a different side of yourself you don't want to recognize, a side you don't want to see in the daylight. You spend your whole life doing everything to push it down and away, out of sight, out of mind. You pretend that a piece of yourself doesn't exist. You live like that for a long time. For a long time, you're safe. And then you're not.” 

“It's just a whisper of a kiss but something collapses in my skull. It's a feather-light brush of his mouth against my skin in a place I can't quite see. It's my mind speaking in a thousand different languages I don't understand.” 

“You should know— you, have to know, that I have never wanted anything like I've wanted you. Nothing. You have no idea, what you do to me.” 

“Because a quiet night is not the same as a silent one, a firm man is not the same as a steady one, and a bright light is not the same as a brilliant one.” 

“What a lie appearances can be. What a terrible, terrible lie.”  “I felt the tears streak down my cheeks but I wasn't crying.” 

“And maybe if I can find a way to stop being scared, I'll actually figure out how to make friends. To be strong. To stop wallowing in my own problems.” 

“I can love him, but i can´t depend on him to be my backbone. I can´t be my own person if I constantly require someone else to hold me together.” 

“I think wow, I imagine this is what it's like to have friends.” 

“He’s smiling like someone’s strung the stars across his lips” 

“I want to study the secrets tucked between his elbows and the whispers caught behind his knees. I want to follow the lines of his silhouette with my eyes and the tips of my fingers. I want to trace rivers and valleys along the curved muscles of his body.” 

As if time were the kind of thing you could run out of, as if it were measured into bowls that were handed to us at birth and if we ate too much or too fast or right before jumping into the water then our time would be lost, wasted, already spent.”

“You can love someone so much, but you can never love people as much as you can miss them.” 

“We can hide in a cupboard under the stairs our whole life and it'll still find us. Death will show up wearing an invisible cloak and it will wave a magic wand and whisk us away when we least expect it.” 

But time is beyond our finite comprehension. It’s endless, it exists outside of us; we cannot run out of it or lose track of it or find a way to hold on to it. Time goes on even when we do not.” 

“Mortification. I’m draped in it. Painted in it. Buried in it.” 

“I wish I could love you less” 

“Some people are stupid that they actually think that there are thick neon lines separating good and evil.” 

“It’s raining. The world is weeping at our feet in anticipation of what we’re about to do.” 

“I’m crushed. I saved us a table and everything.”

“I'm checking my pockets for spare words and sentences but I'm finding none, not an adverb, not a preposition or even a dangling participle because there doesn't exist a single response to such an outlandish request.” 

“I want this up and I want these down” 

“Then what's happening right now? Because something is happening right now and it doesn't feel okay,

“Words, will live as long as people can remember them.” 

“I want to know where to touch you, I want to know how to touch you.” 

“I like when he tells me that he likes the way I feel because it goes against what I've heard my entire life and I wish I could put his words in my pocket just to touch them once in a while and remind myself that they exist.” 

“While a part of me wants to know, another part of me is too exhausted to ask.”

“You have severe mental constipation.” 

“And I understand, for the first time, that I have the power to destroy everything.” 

“Right now I can't even control my own imagination as it grips my hair and drags me into the dark” 

“I have officially, absolutely collapsed inside.” 

“Because it's so hard to be kind to the world when all you've ever felt is hate. Because it's so hard to see goodness in the world when all you've ever known is terror.” 

“loneliness is a bitter, wretched companion. sometimes it just won't let go.” 

“I want to scream, sometimes, I want to collapse, sometimes, I want to die knowing that I've known what it was like to live with this kiss, this heart, this soft soft explosion that makes me feel like I've taken a sip of the sun...” 

"What the hell is this? You guys playing footsie under the table or someshit?” 

“he thinks too highly of me, places me on a pedestal i've never deserved.” 

“He's dangerous, electric, impossible to contain. His body is rippling with an energy so extraordinary that even when he's calmed down it's almost palpable. It has a presence.” 

“Because all you ever said to me was that you didn't want to hurt anyone. You didn't want to murder people." 

“Gone is the boy with the guns and the skeletons in his closet. These hands holding me have never held a weapon. These hands have never touched death. These hands are perfect and kind and tender.” 

“I want to be the friend you fall hopelessly in love with. The one you take into your arms and into your bed and into the private world you keep trapped in your head. I want to be that kind of friend. The one who will memorize the things you say as well as the shape of your lips when you say them. I want to know every curve, every freckle, every shiver of your body. I want to know where to touch you, I want to know how to touch you. I want to know convince you to design a smile just for me. Yes, I do want to be your friend. I want to be your best friend in the entire world.”

Its the kind of smile that makes me forget how to do everything but blink and blink and I don't understand what's happening to me. I don't know why I cant convince my eyes to find something else to focus on. I don't know why my heart is losing its mind.”  

“i'm always apologizing. forever apologizing. for who i am and what i never meant to be and for this body i was born into, this DNA i never asked for, this person i can't unbecome.” 

“Incredible. He left me bleeding all over his living floor. What a nice little present for his son to clean up. What a nice little lesson for his son to learn. Fall in love, and you get to watch your love get shot.” 

“It's hot rain and humid days and broken thermostats. It's screaming and raging steam engines and wanting to take your clothes off just to feel a breeze. It's the kind of kiss that makes you realize oxygen is overrated.” 

How am I supposed to feel? It's one shitty thing right after another and I'm trying to be okay--God, I'm trying so hard but it's really freaking difficult and I miss--I miss you, I miss you so much it's killing me.” 

“I am a spectacle, an anomaly even among the anomalies.” 

“I am so tired, love. I’m so very, very tired.” 

“I’m really paying attention to my surroundings. All of a sudden my senses feel sharper, clearer; my entire being feels like it’s humming with a renewed kind of energy. I am electric.” 

“...his lips twitch up to flick the switch that lights the fire in my heart.” 

“And the stitches in my heart begin to pop. One by one.” 

“How many times will you apologize for who you are?” 

[earlgraytay]

@aflyingcontradiction - so the way Wikipedia's system works, ideally, goes something like this:

Wikipedia has a dedicated page for people to come in and report vandalism. You can go in and tell people that someone's been deleting everything on a politician's page and replacing it with a picture of a poop emoji, and they'll go take care of it.

Crucially, if you blame a particular account for this, it's a page, not a hotline- so someone who sees you telling mods that they did this can publically defend themself.

For a vandal's first couple offenses- subject to mod discretion- they receive a warning on their talk page. In Tumblr culture, this is approximately equivalent to Staff pinning a post at the top of your blog that says "hey, you broke the TOU in ways xyz, don't do this again".

There are different consequences depending on the scale of the offense. It's not just "fully block the person from editing Wikipedia at all"-- possible consequences for vandalism include blocking the vandal from editing certain articles or topics, blocking the vandal from editing anything but their own talk page, a temporary ban for the account, a temporary ban for the IP address, a permanent ban for the account, or even a permanent ban for the IP address, as a last resort.

Most of these consequences, though, are not permanent. Mods are encouraged to choose the consequence that will cause the least disruption to Wikipedia. Usually, a page block, a topic block, or a 24/48-hour ban is enough to get people to stop it with their bullshit.

If you do get smacked down for vandalizing Wikipedia, there's a process to get these consequences undone. Depending on how badly you screwed up, the process is different- but even someone who's got a full site ban can theoretically appeal the ban and come back. Of course, people won't trust them not to fuck up for a while, and the odds are good that someone who serially vandalizes wikipedia will fuck up again, but you've got the chance to turn things around.

A crucial part of this is that sockpuppeting (making an account to get around a block or a ban) is always a violation of the rules. If you're making sock accounts, that's a sign you're not acting in good faith, and the sock accounts will get banned.

There's transparency at most stages of this process. Yeah, there's a fair bit of mod fiat built in, but you can see the discussions the mods are having about things, even if it's just "bigtittysolidsnake is blanking the MGS article again, do you wanna go take care of it?" / "sure I got this".

I think the thing about Wikipedia's system that's so good, and would be so difficult to implement on traditional social media, is that it works with an assumption of good faith and assumes that the goal is to protect the wiki (and community) from disruption, rather than to punish people for breaking the rules.

But if we did implement a system like this, based on those principles, I think most social media would be a better place. Like, to take a COMPLETELY AND TOTALLY HYPOTHETICAL EXAMPLE:

Say a user's posting a lot of porn and visual NSFW content. This is against Tumblr's TOU. They're not a bot account- they're clearly a human who's hornyposting about their interests- but Tumblr legally can't allow this stuff to go up unmoderated.

Under the current system, after a couple of post deletions or community label applications, the account gets banned, with a vague reference to the section of TOU that was broken. The user might not even understand what they did wrong, and even if they did, they have no recourse. If that user wants to keep using Tumblr - and, say, not lose access to their friends and affinity networks- they've got to make a sockpuppet account, and hope that they don't get banned for sockpuppeting.

Even if the person is blatantly in the wrong, it's easy to feel like this is unfair. It's easy to blame staff, to claim that they hate you and/or your affinity group, and to say that you did nothing wrong. You have no basis for comparison; you just know you lost your friendgroup overnight. And without any transparency, it's easy to convince other people that staff/mods actively hate, say, a particular group of users, even if all that's happening is normal content moderation stuff.

Under a more Wikipedian system, this user might, at first, get a three-day block on uploading new images, with a warning on their blog not to do it again. If they kept posting stuff that breaks the TOU, they might get a temporary site wide ban, with a long-term block on uploading new images. If the user started to harass other users or staff over it, they might get a permanent ban- with the possibility of appeal. And, ideally, there'd be a good amount of transparency from staff, with it being abundantly clear that the procedure is being followed and this is Not A Vendetta Against The User In Question.

Of course, I suspect the reason more commercial social media sites don't do this is that content moderation is hell, content moderation with paid staff instead of volunteers is double hell, and transparent content moderation is The Actual Worst Circle Of Hell, the one Shepherd Book talked about. But it'd be so much better than the one every mainstream social media site seems to use that it's a tragedy that no one puts it into place.

actually you know what, I'm gonna tag @staff @humans - nothing's going to come of it but fuck, maybe they'll listen.

...I think Wikipedia's system for dealing with serial vandals is probably the best on the internet for dealing with the problem of "person is toxic and won't fuck off"/"person keeps breaking TOUs and won't fuck off", and it mystifies me that more sites don't do something similar.

[bettsfic]

Hi Betts. Do you have any advice on describing facial expressions? I find myself returning to the same old "furrowed brows" and "raised eyebrows" etc. and can't seem to communicate the subtleties of the expressions that I see in my head. Thank you so much!

unfortunately, while prose is an excellent mechanism with which to describe the internal experience of being, it is a deeply ineffective one with which to describe our external reality, despite what the show-don’t-tell purists would have you believe. the more i think about the idea of fiction as existing in part to render reality, the more i wonder why historically so many english novelists have chosen to shoot themselves in the foot by committing to that ideology, considering how fucking hard it is. 

i plan to touch on this in a different sort of context in february’s newsletter which will be about the depiction of compulsory reality in fiction, but for now let’s focus specifically on facial expressions.

part of the magic of fiction is being able to “see” something in your imagination, condense that image into language, write it, and then have it be read by an audience who can then see that very same image, or at least their approximation of it, in order to derive meaning within a narrative. and isn’t that all raised eyebrows really do? what does it mean to witness someone raising their eyebrows? in fiction, writing a non-pov character raising their eyebrows means:

you, the writer, have defined the non-pov character’s cognition > you, the writer, have then developed that cognition into a facial expression for your pov character to witness > you, the writer, lend language to the depiction of that non-accessible cognition cum facial expression through the pov of accessible cognition > they, the reader, witness the image of the non-pov character’s raised eyebrows > they, the reader deduce (through the pov character’s narration, through the non-pov character’s action, through the non-pov character’s non-accessible cognition, through you, the writer’s, intention) that the non-pov character is surprised

so with all that said, how the FUCK can you be expected to do that transaction elegantly.

first i’m going to tell you what i think most writers and writing teachers would tell you, and then i’m going to tell you how i see it, and neither of them are going to be fun answers.

many writers, particularly of the show-don’t-tell variety, would tell you (and of course they’d never show you, because they’re hypocrites) that it is simply your job as a writer to understand the english language well enough -- and take enough time on the page to -- describe, as you say, the subtleties of the expressions that you see in your head. but of course, those same writers may also tell you never to use adjectives or adverbs, to elevate your verbs, and complicate your diction. they would tell you that if something is worth rendering (and to them, everything is worth rendering), then it’s worth rendering meaningfully. it’s worth taking an entire paragraph to artfully convey the exact way one’s eyebrows rise up one’s forehead, without resorting to “telling” the reader that one is shocked. 

oof city. i mean, i get it. fiction exists to lend us the witness of alternate realities we can’t otherwise experience. but also it can also only ever be a facsimile of that experience through what is basically groupings of squiggles on a page. with writing, to paraphrase an ancient text, you’ve gotta pick your battles. and then, pick fewer battles. put some of those battles back.

so here’s my answer, which is easier but also in some ways harder: you can never truly convey the subtleties of the expressions you see in your head. the work of the writer is not, as much as we may like it to be, the same as a cinematographer or an actor. at some point, you have to let go of the idea of descriptive control. once it’s out of your head and into someone else’s, it’s no longer in your grasp. eventually, a story belongs to its readers.

i know, this is a deeply unpopular opinion and one which does not make me any friends in the literary community. it goes wholly against the entire history of “show don’t tell” and the lovely work of early novelists to lift the form to its present regard. 

what i’m saying is, sometimes you just have to fucking say “he looked surprised” and move on.

so, that’s all the theory surrounding raised eyebrows to hopefully offer you some deeper insight, or at least an alternate perspective. here’s some practical application you can play around with to see what works for you:

when editing, remove ALL of your descriptions of facial expressions

i’m sorry if you feel like you’ve just been socked in the stomach. bear with me here. do a revision where you get rid of all of your descriptions of facial expressions to see how the piece stands up. you will very quickly see the narrative gaps, the places where you lose or flatten meaning. then, add only those expressions back in. you’ll be surprised how little you need.

play with telling over showing, or vice versa

replace a few “he raised his eyebrows” with “he looked surprised.” replace a few “he looked upset” with “he lowered his head and glanced down at his clasped hands.” see how they differ? “showing” is factual and requires the reader to interpret the action. “telling” is an interpretation/conclusion drawn by the narrator and conveyed to the reader. one is not inherently superior to the other. they both do different kinds of work, and have different narrative effects.

use facial expressions to complicate or conflict with dialogue, not confirm it

“he raised his eyebrows. ‘i’m surprised,’ he said.” <-- that’s a very silly example, but i just want to show you how sometimes you can let the dialogue do the dirty work. if a character says something, and their facial expression matches the thing they’re saying, it is maybe not worth mentioning the expression. or vice versa, maybe they make an expression instead of saying something. or maybe there’s a reason you do need both. it’s going to depend on the scene and your narrator.

however, if what their face is doing is in conflict with what they’re saying such that it would alter the meaning of the dialogue, then perhaps it’s worth noting. 

“he glanced down at his clasped hands. ‘i’m fine,’ he said.” <-- in this case, the factual description of his action gives us, the reader, the sense that he is l y i n g.

bonus: “’i’m fine,’ he said, but he looked upset.” <-- what’s wrong with that? nothing. it’s simple, it’s concise, it tells us about the perception and capacity of the narrator. no, it doesn’t allow the reader to “see” anything, but as i’ve mentioned, i don’t think the work of fiction is to “see” things. it’s to experience them, and sometimes that has more to do with the capabilities and limitations of your narrator than it does by clinging to the belief that you have to render the shiny surfaces of reality.

i hope this helps! more on the depiction of reality in february’s newsletter. 

my carrd | writing advice masterdoc

[a-funny-little-sunflower]

Yandere Glorfindel kidnapping you (SFW edition)

Glorfindel would kidnap you as a last resort or if the relationship isn't moving fast enough.

The thing is he wouldn't call it kidnapping he describes it as "taking you away for your protection". He genuinely believes that you're better off with him than alone in Middle Earth.

And if you're a modern girl or just a regular human, he might be right...

If you meet before the fall of Gondolin he'll convince Turgon into letting you live with him in the city

You'll promptly be taken to your new home, and Glorfindel has a vice-like grip on your waist the entire time.

He doesn't understand why you look scared and tense in his hold.

"My love, what's wrong? You look awfully frightened as if you saw an orc. You can relax your safe now... nothing will ever come to harm you. If they try, they'll suffer at the end of my blade.

Now in the 3rd age, he's even more protective and determined that nothing will take him from you again...

When he saw you again, he goes into shock? His voice is filled with confusion as he finally speaks, "You're alive! But.... you should be dead...Gondolin fell centuries ago!"

But none of those things matters now, he has finally come back to reality. His aura shines brightly, potentially blinding anyone in his vicinity. He'll rush towards you, trapping you in his embrace.

You, on the other hand, are terrified because not only has this man suddenly tackled you and is squeezing you like a python but as well as that, black spots are appearing on the edges of your vision...

Glorfindel finally realises that you've fainted after you go limp in his tight embrace. Glorfindel one-sided excitement turns to concern but he's relieved to see that you're still breathing.

He decided that he should take you to his chambers for you to recover, and he will stay with you till you awaken...

Oh, how much he's missed you...