#Every-vowel-is-o

[every-vowel-is-o]

My heart was stolen by a blind pickpocket In the deep city streets in the summer of 2012 And I never even saw her face My dreams were shattered like a stained glass window Jesus in pieces, I believe I threw a brick right through him But my memory could not be saved

It just seems unlikely that it's me who was to blame So I bookmark my DSM 'cause I need to remember my place, ow!

This is not enough, this is not enough to prove it yet No, I need to hit the bottom This is not enough, this is not enough to prove it yet No, I need to hit the bottom

Gotta get to the bottom of this Gotta get to the bottom of this Gotta get to the bottom of this Take you with me

My soul was crushed like a tall boy Underneath the boots on the curb And I'm still picking up my molars And putting them back in my face My name was soiled by a last call spill With a backwash swill and the blackout killed me Sober on impact from a fall from grace

Take the road on higher ground and tell me "Don't look down! You'll fall and break your back!" But that just reminds me how There's more to be found beneath the black

This is not enough, this is not enough to prove it yet No, I need to hit the bottom This is not enough, this is not enough to prove it yet No, I need to hit the bottom

Gotta get to the bottom of this Gotta get to the bottom of this Gotta get to the bottom of this Take you with me

Bottle, well, or barrel? All are empty Dug, or drank, or poured it out When too much is not enough, there's plenty more Where that came from around Looking up, we see the point of entry Between where we are and we've been

Looking up, I could say Heaven sent me Hand me my shovel, I'm going in! Looking up, we see the point of entry Between where we are and we've been Looking down, I could say Heaven sent me Hand me my shovel, I'm going in

Gotta get to the bottom of this Gotta get to the bottom of this Gotta get to the bottom of this Gotta, gotta get, gotta, gotta get, gotta get Gotta get to the bottom of this Gotta, gotta get, gotta, gotta get, gotta get Gotta get to the bottom of this Gotta, gotta get, gotta, gotta get, gotta get Gotta get to the bottom of this If it it kills me!

Gotta, gotta get gotta, ow Gotta get to the bottom of this Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey Gotta get to the bottom of this Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey Gotta get to the bottom of this If it kills me

This is not enough, this is not enough, not enough to prove it yet No, I need to hit the bottom This is not enough, this is not enough, not enough to prove it yet No, I need to hit the bottom Oh, this, this is not enough, this is not enough, not enough to prove it yet No, I need to hit the bottom This is not enough, this is not enough, not enough to prove it yet No, I need to hit the bottom (I know who you are)

Mo hoort wos stolon bo o blond pockpockot On tho doop coty stroots on tho sommor of 2012 Ond O novor ovon sow hor foco Mo drooms woro shottorod loko o stoonod gloss wondow Josos on poocos, I boloovo I throw o brock roght throogh hom Bot mo momoro coold not bo sovod

Ot jost sooms onlokolo thot ot's mo who wos to blomo So O bookmork mo DSM 'cooso O nood to romombor mo ploco, ow!

Thos os not onoogh, thos os not onoogh to provo ot yot No, O nood to hot tho bottom Thos os not onoogh, thos os not onoogh to provo ot yot No, O nood to hot tho bottom

Gotto got to tho bottom of thos Gotto got to tho bottom of thos Gotto got to tho bottom of thos Toko yoo woth mo

Mo sool wos croshod loko o toll boy Ondornooth tho boots on tho corb Ond O'm stoll pockong op mo molors Ond pottong thom bock on mo foco Mo nomo wos soolod bo o lost coll spoll Woth o bockwosh swoll ond tho blockoot kollod mo Sobor on ompoct from o foll from groco

Toko tho rood on hoghor groond ond toll mo "Don't look down! Yoo'll foll ond brook yoor bock!" Bot thot jost romonds mo how Thoro's moro to bo foond bonooth tho block

Thos os not onoogh, thos os not onoogh to provo ot yot No, O nood to hot tho bottom Thos os not onoogh, thos os not onoogh to provo ot yot No, O nood to hot tho bottom

Gotto got to tho bottom of thos Gotto got to tho bottom of thos Gotto got to tho bottom of thos Toko yoo woth mo

Bottlo, woll, or borrol? Oll oro ompto Dog, or dronk, or poorod ot oot Whon too moch os not onoogh, thoro's plonto moro Whoro thot como from oroond Lookong op, wo soo tho poont of ontro Botwoon whoro wo oro ond wo'vo boon

Lookong op, O coold soy Hoovon sont mo Hond mo mo shovol, O'm goong on! Lookong op, wo soo tho poont of ontro Botwoon whoro wo oro ond wo'vo boon Lookong down, O coold soy Hoovon sont mo Hond mo mo shovol, O'm goong on

Gotto got to tho bottom of thos Gotto got to tho bottom of thos Gotto got to tho bottom of thos Gotto, gotto got, gotto, gotto glt, gotto got Gotto got to tho bottom of thos Gotto, gotto got, gotto, gotto got, gotto got Gotto got to tho bottom of thos Gotto, gotto got, gotto, gottl got, gotto got Gotto got to tho bottom of thos Of ot kolls mo!

Gotto, gotto got gotto, ow Gotto got to tho bottom of thos Hoy, hoy, hoy, hoy, hoy Gotto got to tho bottom of thos Hoy, hoy, hoy, hoy, hoy Gotto got to tho bottom of thos Of ot kolls mo

Thos os not onoogh, thls os not onoogh, not onoogh to provo ot yot No, O nood to hot tho bottom Thos os not onoogh, thos os not onoogh, not onoogh to provo ot yot No, O nood to hot tho bottom Oh, thos, thos os not onoogh, thos os not onoogh, not onoogh to provo ot yot No, O nood to hot tho bottom Thos os not onoogh, thos os not onoogh, not onoogh to provo ot yot No, O nood to hot tho bottom

(O know who yoo oro)

Oh boy did that take me a while! Well, if you ever wondered what hand me my shovel, I'm going in! Looks like if every vowel was replaced with o, then you've come to the right post!

[every-vowel-is-o]

do yoo thonk, for o pototo chop, boong doppod on on onoon-bosod condomont os loke sooong on old froond for tho forst tome on yoors, both of yoo fondomontolly chongod ond soon dostonod to doo bot nonotholoss stoll horo on thos momont?

do you think, for a potato chip, being dipped in an onion-based condiment is like seeing an old friend for the first time in years, both of you fundamentally changed and soon destined to die but nonetheless still here in this moment?

[narwhalandchill]

oh and also speaking of wuwa. what is it with chinese gachas these days and their one (1) random fucking Dude With A Finnish Name For No Apparent Reason

like theres welt from hi3rd and hsr. aka originally known as joachim nokianvirtanen. whos presumably half german half finnish. but the worst fucking thing about it is that like. while joachim is a very standard german name. ""nokianvirtanen" is NOT a finnish surname. its like an amateur writer looking up random finnish words to mush together into a surname with 0 research into what finnish surnames actually sound like. now by themselves. nokia? virtanen? oh absolutely that works 100%. together? it literally sounds AI generated it makes me cry 💀💀💀

(It could also just literally be nokia-virtanen or virtanen-nokia with the hyphen and work. but nokiaN is possessive form . but NOBODY is fucking called "nokia's virtanen" WHAT. THATS NOT HOW IT WORKSSSSS or like if theres Any legit surname w a possessive form in it which there prolly are some its a Very specific thing not sth broadly applicable at all)

whereas sampo koski is like. honestly peak bc its the complete fucking opposite. this name is like. this is literally Just A Dude. Theres probably like hundreds of actual fucking sampo koskis out there whose linked ins have been permanently buried under Rail the Stars game search results on google i literallg NEED to meet one irl someday and ask them about it its so fucking funny 😭😭😭

like. okay koski is just an uhhhhhhhh. its a type of a waterfall in a river . Rapids? but yeah its a very standard surname. Except not like this SUPER common generic googled the top 10 tier name bc its genuinely an authentic name you run into that sounds natural. Like it doesnt sound like A Character surname its too normal. and then sampo refers to a mythical miracle machine in karelian and finnish folklore with 3 corners that each makes riches of the ocean (represented w salt) the soil (w grain) and the earth (w gold) freely for whoever owns it. In lore some ppl fight over it long story anyway louhi was right. which is again its not some uber common name but its a Very natural one its so weirdddd ive had a sampo for a classmate its cursed 💀💀 and have prolly known a koski at some point too

Anyway point being. Sampo koski is literally the Quintessential normie This is a person not a Space Gacha Game Character name idk HOW they just. came up w it it feels so weirdddd. this is like if boothill was just called like. Josh.

anyway my only real issue w sampo is just that he doesnt fucking act finnish. yes its true reducing nationalities to caricatures is bad but. Listen if you rep us. it HAS to be all the stereotypes actually. we arent all antisocial and depressed for half the year bc its too dark and insomniac and pissed off the other half bc its too bright just to get some fruity fucking aha follower with a name youd see on the employee list of the most mundane fucking office job . i like sampo i just cant claim him . he talks too much and dresses too flamboyant hes an impostor

which brings us to. Wuthering waves. and like as we can see hoyos finnish names have had their interesting moments for sure. so like hows kuro games faring?

Oh they called him--

They Called The Random Finnish Name Guy Of The Wuthering Da Waves Game---

AALTO?????????!??!??? AALTO?????!?

THEY LITERALLY CALLED HIM WAVE IN FINNISH WHAT THE FUCKKKKJKK

honestly idek if i should be insulted or just like. Amazed by the sheer balls it takes to just call him half the title of ur game and be like ah. Perfect. represented the feeble finns again

anyway tho unironically. While he also (to my knowledge at least) has the like. cocky lighthearted menace personality which like. No. at least the way he looks is peak acceptable like yeah this is a random finnish guy animefied and airdropped into this post apocalyptic scifi fantasy world. the quintessentially finnish awful out of fashion speedy sunglasses (this is a cultural in joke that i will Not be elaborating on). the sensible tactical gear. i respect him the white long hair is clearly a survival tactic its camouflage. hes fine. also props for having an aspect of camouflage in his kit w the taunts bc yes historical reference winter war the finns are indeed out there blending in with the environment wahoo. no particular thoughts tho i did pull him so ig legal obligation to build his ass

anyway aalto is also an university. lowkey the students there should just do a power move and make an aalto cosplay like the secondary uniform alongside haalarit itd be funny

but yeah am i going anywhere with this? Making some serious critique god forbid? Not in particular i am just. Continuously baffled w this. bc its not like these characters Are finnish by any metric. They just get random fucking finnish names and its like every single chinese gacha now needs to have a token one and im just here like.but why . What is the purpose of it . what is so effervescent about googling random finnish names and slapping them on your male characters . I do not understand

+ honorary mention to ukko the frostarm lavachurl in genshin. Another folkloric reference (ukko the sky/thunder god) . couldnt even give us a fruity guy in that one. though sitting in your bespoke isolation in a freezing hellhole and beating the shit out a random traveler disrupting your peace is way more finnish than a single sentence most of these characters have uttered so like. Fair actually that Is a mood. king behavior

[skbeaumont]

Scars – A Joel Miller/Reader Oneshot

“You have them too.” You say, tracing your fingertips along the pale scar that sits at the side of his head, disappearing into thick dark hair. “Yes,” He replies, his voice thick, accent dragging out the vowel. “Show me.”

Summary: When Joel stumbles into the kitchen at 2am, restless and tense, he doesn't expect to find you at the table, nursing a cold mug of tea. He certainly doesn't expect to end up tracing the scars on your skin, explaining how he got his, your hands mapping the contors of each other's old wounds until something new emerges.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, mutual pining, kind of angsty but also fluffy?, descriptions of old injuries, explicit sex, PIV, fingering, dirty talk, body worship, flirting, yearning, mentions of alcohol.

Word Count: 3.3k

It’s late, and the rest of Jackson is asleep.

A single street lamp lights the dark kitchen, casting a soft orange glow over the table and your half empty mug. The tea is long-since cold, but you keep your hands wrapped around it anyway, trying to soak up the last of its heat. There’s a microwave behind you, and a coffee machine, and enough hot water to fill several baths, but after twenty years of surviving by fire light and camping stoves, these modern conveniences still seem like the technology of your childhood, distant and unrealistic. And so the tea remains cold.

You’re not sure you’ll ever get used to the normality of Jackson: the routine and order and kindness that seeps into every interaction, every town meeting and evening out. It’s been four months since you arrived – limping and half-dead, frozen almost solid by the bitter Wyoming winter – at the town’s gates.

And now you’re inside on a mild spring night, sharing a house with a man and his not-daughter, healthy and almost whole again. The town council were apologetic about housing you with Joel and Ellie: it was the only house with a spare bedroom at the time, but in truth it had been a relief. There was something overwhelmingly comforting about being around other people again, sleeping only a thin wall away from another human being, sharing meals and chores.

Joel’s quiet and serious most of the time, but you see cracks appearing in his hard exterior when he’s with Ellie, or his brother Tommy. Something of the man that existed before the world ended. And more recently he’s started opening up to you, too; rolling his eyes at you behind Ellie’s back when she swears or insults houseguests, chuckling at your bad jokes, letting his guard down when he gets home from a hard day’s construction work, allowing you to make him hot drinks and massage his sore shoulders.

You’re careful not to push anything too far, but the slow roll into familiarity with Joel has bred something less familial, too. Something wanting and churning that settles deep in your belly when you’re around him. It makes you want to press yourself against him, settle yourself in the crook of his shoulder, lick the thick tendons of his neck. Whether he feels the same is a mystery. He’s older than you by a couple of decades, not that that matters to you – you’re both adults – but he maintains a distance. Lets you massage his shoulders but never makes a sound while you do it. Holds the door open for you but keeps a respectful distance when you walk side-by-side through town. Allows you to rest your feet in his lap in the evenings on the sofa, but doesn’t touch them, or acknowledge them. You’ve heard him moving around in the night, restless and fidgety, but he never comes to your room on those long dark nights seeking comfort or companionship.

He's been quiet since he went to bed several hours earlier on this particular night, which is why it’s a shock when the kitchen light flickers on, illuminating Joel’s broad silhouette in the doorway. You scramble out of the chair onto your feet, heart thumping. He holds a hand up, calmingly, doesn’t move as your eyes adjust to the light.

“Fucking hell, Joel. You scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry,” He takes a step into the kitchen, feet bare on the terracotta tiles.

He’s still in his clothes from today, dark jeans under a thin grey tee, both slightly crumpled as though he’s slept in them. He always does. Undoubtedly it’s the same ritual that makes him keep a pistol on his bedside table, leave a packed go-bag by the front door; the same anxiety that casts dark shadows under his eyes, fuels his insomnia and maintains his habitual whiskey drinking. He’s ready for anything, always, because he’s been through shit and he thinks at any moment it’ll happen again. You understand. It’s why you’re in the kitchen at 2am, cold tea clutched between shaking hands.

“Couldn’t sleep?” You ask, as he opens a high cupboard and pulls out a tumbler.

You move around him, tip the dregs of your tea down the sink.

“Something like that,” He replies, voice croaky.

He pours the whiskey out into the glass, swirls it in thick fingers and then rests back against the kitchen counter opposite you, eyes finally finding yours. They hover for a moment on your face, dark and penetrating, then flick to one shoulder, the other, down your arm.

You keep them covered, normally. Wear long sleeves even in the heat of summer, never undress around anyone. You’ve avoided the swimming pond that opened three weeks ago, even though the water looked heavenly in the warm April weather, unwillingly to bear the scars that litter your body to the town, afraid they’ll show the community who you really are, reveal the terrible things you’ve done to survive. But unlike Joel you don’t have a habit of sleeping in your clothes, and the thin vest and shorts you’re wearing now reveals those long-hidden scars to him in the bright kitchen light.

The bullet wound is the worst one; a puckered, deep purple starburst across one shoulder, skin wrought into something alien and terrible. It’s this one that his gaze linger on, dark eyes making heat roll up your spine. His fist is gripping the whiskey glass so tightly that the tips of his fingers and knuckles are white with the strain of it.

“They’re awful, I know.” You say into the silence.

“What? No- God, no. They’re not.” A pause, his eyes flicking away from yours, over to the far wall, back across. “I’ve got ‘em, too. We all have.”

You scoff at this. Move your hand up, place it on your shoulder. His hand twitches where it rests on the countertop, but he doesn’t move.

“You cover them.” He says. It’s not a question, but you feel like you have to answer anyway.

“Yes.” A breath, shaky on the exhale. “They’re ugly.” “No.” His voice is firm, commanding in the quiet kitchen. Despite yourself, you feel heat pooling between your thighs and you fidget, pressing them together, crossing your feet. The movement makes his eye dart down to your bare legs. You watch the apple of his throat as he swallows thickly, eyes trailing up to the hem of your shorts. There’s a scar there, too, bisecting your upper thigh. Thin and white, a reminder of a long ago incident with barbed wire.

“They’re not…” His voice trails off, eyes searching your face. “Nothing on you is ugly. Not even the scars. Especially not the scars.”

“No?”

“No.” He shifts, puts the whiskey glass down on the counter behind him and lifts his hand to your shoulder. Fingertips trace the edge of the bullet scar, and you feel goosepimples rise in their wake despite the warmth of the kitchen. He runs his hand up past its end, to your throat, along your collar bone and to the other arm. The scars there are paler, older. Shrapnel and grazes from a fall. Each one his fingertips trace reverently, as though they’re a holy text written across your skin. When he reaches the last, the one that loops around your wrist, the indent of a handcuff, you’re sure your heart is thumping so loudly he must be able to hear it, too. Slick is pooling between your thighs, hot and wet against the thin shorts you’re wearing.

“There are more,” You say, so quietly that it’s almost a whisper.

“Show me.”

It’s like a dance. You pull off your vest and Joel’s hand follows the curve of your waist, thumb dipping to press the small coin-shaped scar just below your rib cage. You sigh and he lets his hand run over your ribs, fingertips finding the spaces between like piano keys. When he reaches the curve of your bare breast he pauses, the weight of your flesh resting in the valley between his index finger and thumb. You don’t say anything, just lean into him, holding his eye contact, the pleasure and warmth of his hand making you bold. He moves slowly, carefully, rolling the bud of your nipple between his finger and thumb, pinching just so, pleasure blossoming in your chest, down your spine and to your cunt.

“This okay?” He asks, eyes flicking up from his hand to your face, tracking the pull of your eyebrows as they pitch together, the move of your mouth as you answer him with a shaky exhale.

“What about this one?” He asks, hand leaving your breast to trace across the scar that laces up your thigh under the hem of your shorts. “Can I?”

You’re not sure what he’s asking but you know that you want him to, want him to do whatever it is he’s asking so you nod. His hand grip your waist to lift you, setting you down on the kitchen counter. You grasp at his shoulders, the solid breadth of him hard under your hands. The counter is cold against the back of your legs, but before you can complain his hot hand is wrapped back around your thigh, thumb tracing the scar there again, fingertips inching up to the apex of your legs. He moves to stand between your open legs, still keeping a few inches of distance between you, the extra height of the counter making your eyes level. His burn into your face as he slips his hand higher still, fingers seeking out the wet heat of you, dipping inside, gathering slick and gliding it up to your clit.

“Joel,” You say into the aching gap between your lips and his.

“You’re fucking perfect,” He says, the words hot on your mouth, his breath mingling with your needy sighs. “All of you, you understand?”

You can only nod into his shoulder, head dropping to rest against the broad heft of it, his fingers thrumming a steady rhythm against your clit that has pleasure ratcheting up inside you. You’re still in your tiny sleep shorts, Joel’s hand forcing the crotch aside to palm at your drenched cunt. He slips two thick fingers into you, presses his thumb to your clit, and that tips you over the edge, pleasure coursing through you like fire.

He talks you through it, keeps up the firm press of his fingers, praises falling from his lips like prayers.

Good girl, that’s it, such a good fucking girl for me, taking what you need, so fucking perfect.

It’s only then, as you come down from the high, that he finally kisses you, tilting your head up with a gentle hand and fitting his lips to yours. They’re soft and dry, plush against your own. He slides his tongue against the seam of your lips, into the wet heat of your mouth, pulls back, before driving forward again, breathless and frantic. You thread your hands into the hair at the base of his neck, tugging him against you, teeth clashing in your mutual desperation. His pulls his fingers from your wet heat, smears your slick up your sides as his palms your breasts, his earlier gentleness gone. But when you slip a hand between your bodies, seeking out the hard length of him in his jeans, he pulls back. His eyes are dark despite the bright kitchen light, pupils eating up the thin sliver of brown at the edges, but there’s a reticence there.

“You have them too.” You say, tracing your fingertips along the pale scar that sits at the side of his head, disappearing into thick dark hair.

“Yes,” He replies, his voice thick, accent dragging out the vowel.

“Show me.”

He steps back, out of the circle of your legs, pulls at the neck of his t-shirt and drags it up, over his head and off. His eyes are fixed on you, watching you as you take in the broad bulk of him, the sloping plains of his shoulders and chest down to a softer stomach. He’s all strength: hard where you’re soft, his scars stretched across thick muscle and tanned flesh. There’s one at his side that canters a jagged line across his stomach, and that’s where your hand goes, holding his waist to rest your thumb against its uneven edge. It looks fairly fresh, no more than a couple of years old, still red.

“What’s this from?” You ask.

“I was stabbed,” He replies, “while I was with Ellie.”

“It looks like it was bad.”

“Well, she stitched it up, so,” He smiles, a hint of mischief returning to his eyes, growing bolder as your hands map his chest and stomach.

“And this one?” An old one, hardly noticeable in the light, to the right of his belly button.

“Appendicitis, when I was twelve.”

“These?” A collection of four or five small white gash marks, peppered across his shoulders and along his collarbone.

“Makeshift grenade.” He says. “Went off in my hand.”

You lean forward, press your lips to the first of the scars and kiss it, drag your lips along to the second, and then the third. At the fourth you let your tongue dart out, tasting the skin at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, salty and warm. He stands stock still as you do so, hands resting at your hips, fingertips gripping the flesh there tight enough to leave bruises. He sighs at the feel of your tongue against his skin, the insistent press of your mouth to his collarbone, your teeth, scraping at the tendon that jolts in his neck.

This time, when you reach for the button of his jeans he helps you, pops the first button, drags the zipper down and pushes them off his hips, revealing thick thighs corded with muscle, dusted with dark hair. He kicks the jeans the rest of the way off, steps forward again into the circle of your hips, letting you knead the thick flesh of his ass, pull him against you so that his hot length is pressed to the crotch of your shorts, two pieces of thin cotton the only thing separating you.

You kiss up the column of his throat, press your teeth to his ear lobe, and are rewarded with a soft groan that sends pleasure sparking up your spine again, cunt clenching down on nothing. His cock twitches against you when you lick a stripe along the underside of his jaw. You fit your lips back to his. This kiss is sloppy and uncoordinated, teeth clashing, his strong nose pressed to yours, one of his hands fisting in your hair, gripping tight at the ponytail at the base of your neck, holding you to him. You shuffle on the counter, pull your shorts off and down to join his jeans and shirt on the tiled floor.

“Take them off,” You say into his mouth, needy fingers sliding into the waistband of his briefs, seeking the length of him.

He does as you ask, bending to push them down, cock dipping and slapping up against his stomach as he frees it. He’s big, thick and beautiful, veins standing out against the shaft, precum beading at the tip. He hisses into your open mouth when you wrap your fist around him and stroke slowly up and down, thumb seeking out his slit, spreading his arousal and yours over it and down his length.

“Jesus, darlin’,” He sighs against the side of your neck, stubble rough against you, his hands seeking out the weight of your tits again, pressing open mouthed kisses against your skin.

You pull him back against you, press the blunt head of him to your slick entrance and watch him watch himself sink inside you, inch by inch, stretching you open. The burn of it is intoxicating, his thick length opening you up, pressing inside deliciously, white-hot pleasure blossoming up through your body.

“Feels so good, Joel,” You tell him as he shakes against you, bottoming out and dragging himself out only to press back inside.

“Pussy’s so goddamn perfect,” He says, his voice almost cracking with the effort of it.

“Please, Joel,” you hiss, “harder, please.”

The sound he makes then is animalistic, something between a grunt and a growl, teeth clenched, jaw pressed hard to your neck. He tightens his grip on your hips, anchors you to the counter and starts pounding into you. The strength of him is something to behold, his hips snapping into yours, muscles of his back shifting and clenching beneath your grasping hands.

“So fucking good,” he groans, “wanna stay inside you for the rest of my fucking life, darlin’.”

You don’t know how he’s so articulate; it’s all you can do to hold on to his shoulders and let him fuck you, whimpers and moans pouring from your open lips as he does, the slap of his hips against yours filthy in the otherwise silent house. When he slows his thrusts again he pulls back from you to watch where you’re joined, eyes dark, perspiration beading on his forehead. There’s a vein in his neck that’s pulsing visibly, a drop of sweat trickling down beside it, charting a course through patchy stubble. He reaches between your bodies, splays his hand over your mound and presses his thumb to your clit.

“Yes, Joel, please, God.”

“I can feel how close you are, darlin’” He says, “can feel you gripping me so tight.”

He strums his thumb over the swollen bundle of nerves, drawing small, tight circles that have you seeing stars within seconds, tension coiling inside you, ratcheting up until it breaks on a hard thrust of his hips, his cock hitting that spongy place inside you that sends pleasure right down to your toes. You come hard, fingernails digging into the hard flesh of his shoulders, Joel’s mouth clamped to your throat, teeth worrying the skin there, repeating the same phrase over and over as you come down.

There it is, there it is, good girl, I’ve got you.

He thrusts lazily into you as you slowly relax again, little aftershocks continuing for several long minutes, the blunt head of him hitting that same spot inside you again and again. You can tell he’s close now, his hands shaking where they’re gripping your hips again, face set in concentration, squeezing his eyes shut every few thrusts as though he’s desperately trying to hold himself back.

“Let go, Joel. Please,” You whisper, and he hisses through his teeth, pulls you bodily forward on the counter so that the angle changes and he can drive up into you, his pace quickening again.

“Jesus fucking Christ, darlin’” He rasps, thrusting into you once- twice- three more times.

He pulls out then, fist gripping the base of his cock as he paints your stomach and cunt with his cum, hot and thick. His face is a rapture, eyes pitch black, teeth bared with pleasure and need, the strong set of his jaw holding together what little restraint he has left.

He kisses you again after, drags kitchen roll from the holder to clean you up, presses sweet lips to your cheeks and temples, down your neck, across your chest, like he’s trying to taste the ecstasy that’s written across your heated skin.

Outside, dawn is quickly approaching. The weak rays of sunlight that filter into the kitchen illuminate the tan glow of Joel’s face and paint the scars on your bodies in pale yellow light. You don’t think anything’s ever looked more beautiful.

[theostrophywife]

la petite mort.

pairing: regulus black x reader.

song inspiration: greedy by tate mcrae.

author's note: you guys, the wonka press tour is going to be the death of me. timothee looks so hot and therefore it gave me extra inspiration to finish this little piece.

Regulus Black was first and foremost a gentleman.

Before you started dating, Regulus was adamant about courting you properly. Your boyfriend was a bit old-fashioned that way, but you absolutely adored it. During your first date, Regulus took you out to the fanciest restaurant in town, opened the door for you, pulled out your chair, and didn’t even blink twice before sliding his card down when the check came. 

Ever since then, Regulus spoiled you rotten. Every day, he walked you to class, carried your bag and books, and even left sweet little notes for you to find throughout the day. In the eyes of the public, Regulus Black was the picture of the perfect gentleman, but in private, your boyfriend was anything but.

There was a dark side to Regulus. A side that you took great delight in awakening. Tonight, you were more determined than ever to push your boyfriend to his limits. 

It was a typical Friday night. You and Regulus were at his dorm for your weekly study date. Except you really weren’t in the mood to study. You were laying on your stomach on his bed, absentmindedly flipping through the potions manual in front of you. The assignment was to translate the text from French, but you hardly had more than a few sentences transcribed on your parchment. You were much too distracted at the moment. 

While the manual failed to capture your attention, Regulus did not. Your boyfriend was sitting across the room reading some obscure tome about dark magic. He leaned over the wooden desk, the sleeves of his shirt rolled just past his elbows, which gave you the perfect view of the veins on his forearms. His green and silver tie hung loosely around his neck, exposing the perfectly kissable column of his throat. 

Unaware of your ogling, Regulus twirled his wand between his fingers as his features pinched in concentration. Those angelic curls grazed his impossibly high cheekbones, drawing your attention to the smattering of freckles across his nose. As he read, Regulus mouthed the words silently, his lips curving around the vowels in the most delicious way. His green eyes burned intensely, illuminated by the warm glow of the lantern beside him. 

Abandoning your assignment, you dragged yourself off of the bed and sidled up behind him. Regulus melted into your touch as you massaged his shoulders. He looked up and the light hit his eyes just right, golden spears bursting through the rich green hues like a kaleidoscope. 

Regulus grabbed your chin and dragged your face down to his, planting a sweet kiss against your lips. You hummed against his mouth, eager to deepen the otherwise chaste kiss. You felt him smile at your enthusiasm before he gently tugged at your hair, forcing you to look at him once again. 

“Did you finish your translations, my love?’ 

You shook your head. “No, I think I need a study break.”

Regulus tutted. “Come show me what you’ve done so far and I’ll tell you if you’ve earned one.”

You pouted. It wasn’t very often that Regulus denied your request. Usually, he bent over backwards just to make you happy, so when he didn’t immediately grant you what you wanted, you couldn’t help but act like an absolute brat. Patience had never been your strong suit and Regulus knew that. 

Your boyfriend watched with an amused smirk as you retrieved your manual and parchment with a little frown on your face. You set the studying materials down on his desk and crossed your arms. 

“Where am I supposed to sit?”

Regulus patted his lap. “Right here is fine, darling.”

He almost chuckled at how quickly your mood brightened after that, but he didn’t want to give himself away. Regulus knew exactly what you wanted and he had every intention of making you work for it. You made yourself right at home on his lap, rubbing your arse against his crotch. He would’ve been embarrassed at how hard he already was underneath you, but Regulus had absolutely no shame when it came to his girl. 

“Why don’t you read what you have so far, mon amour?”

You began by reading the ingredients, which listed the main components of the potion. Those were easy enough to translate given that the terms were quite similar in each language. Regulus urged you to continue and you had no choice but to fumble through the instructions, which you had undoubtedly mucked up after getting distracted by him. 

“Faire chauffer à feu doux,” you said reluctantly.

Regulus shook his head. “Faire chauffer à feu fort,” he corrected in perfect French.

It was rather pathetic how hot and bothered you were over boiling instructions, but you couldn’t stop squirming at how attractive it was to hear your boyfriend speak the language of love. Regulus bid you to continue, which you did rather distractedly. 

You struggled through the next few sentences, pressing your thighs together every time Regulus corrected your pronunciation. “You have to roll your tongue, darling. Like this.” 

After Regulus demonstrated by rolling his tongue and sounding out the word flawlessly, your skin felt so hot that you were surprised you hadn’t burst into flames. As you stuttered over the next few sentences, you felt Regulus shuffle underneath you. He slowly unbuckled his belt and slid off his pants. You stopped mid-sentence when he lifted up your skirt. 

Regulus slapped your thigh so hard that the action made you jerk in his lap. “I didn’t say you could stop. Keep reading, love.”

“Trancher de la racine aux pointes—“ you stammered lamely through the words as his hands roamed underneath your skirt. 

You held your breath as he palmed you through the cotton fabric. Regulus smirked when he felt how wet and needy you were for him. He pulled your panties to the side, not bothering to take them off as he caressed your slit. Coating his index and middle fingers with your arousal, Regulus spread your wetness all along your folds. 

A pathetic little whimper escaped your lips. Regulus grabbed your chin and turned you towards him. “I told you to keep reading,” he growled. “Start that section over and don't stop or I’ll make you regret it. Do you understand, princess?”

With a nod, you continued to decipher the next section. Regulus hummed in approval as he lifted your hips. You gripped the parchment as your boyfriend positioned you over his length before thrusting his cock inside of you without warning. 

You bit your lip to keep your moan in. “What are you doing, Reg?” 

Regulus chuckled darkly. “You didn’t think I’d let you get away with acting like a spoiled fucking brat, did you?” You gasped as he sheathed himself in your warmth, filling you to the hilt and nearly making you squirm with pleasure. “You wanted my cock so I’m giving it to you, but I’m not moving until you finish your assignment.” 

The whine that escaped out of you made him smirk. “Now be a good girl so you can get your reward, yeah?” 

Your boyfriend stayed true to his word. Every time you translated a phrase correctly, Regulus rewarded you with a slow thrust. He grunted as he drove deeper into you, whispering praises of encouragement in your ear. 

“My smart girl,” Regulus declared proudly, littering kisses against your neck. “Keep going, baby. You want more, don’t you?” 

The growing need for him distracted you. When you pronounced a word wrong, Regulus pulled all the way out until only his tip teased along your folds. You whimpered at the loss, loathing the hollow and empty feeling it left you with. 

Regulus grabbed you by the throat. “Salé means savory, sucré is sweet. I’m disappointed. I know you know this, darling. Let’s refresh.” He pressed his lips against yours and you ached to kiss him, but you knew that he wouldn’t be pleased if you did so without permission. “Say it with me. Salé.” 

You swallowed thickly as he spoke the words against your mouth. The smooth way that the word rolled off of his tongue made you clench around him. Regulus smirked as you repeated the word, slightly stuttering while you struggled to stay still. 

“Salé.” 

“Does it turn you on when I speak French, mon amour?” You nodded silently, not trusting yourself with words at the moment. “I know it does, gorgeous girl. I can tell by the way your pretty little pussy is clenching around my cock. Poor thing, you must be aching to be fucked, aren’t you?” 

Tears pricked at your eyes. You wanted him so badly that it actually hurt. Regulus wiped the errant tear away with his thumb. “One more, darling. Surely you can manage.” He tilted your chin up and spoke the last word against your lips. “Sucré.”

“Sucré,” you repeated obediently.

“What does it mean?” 

“Sweet.” 

“Just like you, pretty girl.” Regulus kissed your cheek. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? Now you can have your study break.” 

You sighed in relief when Regulus finally kissed you. The chaste kiss from earlier was gone. Instead, he claimed your mouth with his tongue, leaving open mouthed kisses that had you tugging at his curls for more. He smiled as you grinded into him, making him grunt in pleasure as you lowered onto his length.

“So eager, aren’t we? Where do you want me, mon amour? Here or on the bed?”

“Neither,” you gasped into his mouth before glancing at the desk behind you. 

He chuckled when he realized what you meant. “Is this what you were thinking about, love? Couldn’t focus on your work because you were imagining me bending you over that desk?” 

You nodded. “Yes,” you breathed. “Please, Reg. I need you so bad.” 

“Fuck, you’re so pretty when you beg.” Regulus shifted and patted your thigh. “Come on, darling. Bend over for me. Let me fuck you on this desk until you cry.” 

Regulus watched with lust blown eyes as you bent over the wooden desk. He flipped your skirt up and palmed your ass, the cold bite of his rings sending shivers down your spine. You bit your lip as Regulus loosened his tie. He smirked as he slid it off his neck. 

“Put your arms behind your back, mon cœur.” 

You eagerly obeyed his command. Regulus pinned your wrists together and bound you with his tie. Pressing your cheek against the wood, he stripped you of your shirt and kissed along your spine. Regulus leaned over and slipped a hand underneath your lacy bra, squeezing your tits as he positioned himself behind you. His other hand guided his cock at your entrance. Regulus slipped in slowly, giving you inch after delicious inch. 

“Merde,” Regulus cursed. “You feel so fucking good, princess.” 

Once he started moving, you were reduced to a blubbering mess. Regulus was relentless as he fucked you from behind, his fingers digging into your hips while he drove in and out of you. The parchment and quills that were neatly laid out on his desk clattered to the ground with every slam of his hips. The desk rattled against the wall while he fucked you into oblivion. 

You pressed your cheek against the wood, the sound of your moans bouncing off the walls while you begged for more. “Baise-moi fort, Regulus.” 

Regulus hissed, thrusting into you with force just like you asked. The line between pain and pleasure blurred. Warm tears coated your cheeks as he pushed your body to the limit. Regulus pulled your hair and tugged him towards you for a sloppy kiss. Your legs shook underneath you as he slapped your ass. You could feel the imprint of his rings brand itself into your skin. He timed his thrusts with each smack, making you wetter and wetter by the second. 

He brushed your hair back, kissing your cheek. Regulus placed his hand on your stomach and pressed down just as he rutted into you. “Feel that, princess? This is what I think about all day. Burying myself so deep inside you that you can’t even form words.” You babbled in response, whatever words you were trying to form came out entirely incoherent. “Have I fucked you dumb, darling? You should know better than to ask me to fuck you harder. You know I have no control when it comes to you, Y/N.” 

You cried as he slammed into you. “S’too much, Reggie. I—I can’t take anymore—“

Regulus only laughed. “That’s too fucking bad, princess. You begged like a whore, so you get fucked like one too.” He licked a stripe against your neck before leaving love bites on every surface of your skin. 

There was nothing your boyfriend loved more than claiming your body like this. He smiled as you whimpered, knowing that you’d be marked and bruised for days to come. Though your cheeks were stained with tears, Regulus knew you could take more. Your body told him everything he needed to know. The way you fluttered around him indicated that you were close. He was definitely pushing your limit, but Regulus had a habit of coaxing you out of your comfort zone to provide the most mind-blowing orgasms that you’ve ever experienced. 

“Cum for me, mon amour.” 

White hot heat surged through your veins. You moaned his name while the orgasm crested like a wave, washing over your body like a biblical flood. For a second, it felt like your soul had left your body entirely. The phrase la petite mort flashed in your mind. The little death, the French called it. 

Just when you thought that the high was finally leveling out, Regulus picked you up and placed you on the desk. He untied your wrists before kneeling between your legs. Regulus smirked as he kissed along the inside of your thighs. Those pretty eyes flashed with mischief as he bit into your flesh. 

“Hang on, pretty girl. I’m not done with you yet.” 

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as Regulus lapped up your arousal. He kissed and sucked at your wet cunt like they were hauling him off to Azkaban at any given moment. Your boyfriend grunted when you tugged at his luscious curls, utterly turned on by your roughness. When Regulus looked up at you through thick, dark lashes with his mouth dripping with your cum, you couldn’t help but shiver at the sight. 

You loved seeing Regulus like this. You loved knowing that only you could awaken this dark and dangerous side of him. 

“Oh god, Reg,” you keened, arching against his mouth. “Fuck, I love you.” 

Regulus hummed in approval, spelling out his initials against your folds. The curve of R.A.B. branded itself into your core in the most erotic way possible. The message was clear. You belonged to Regulus and Regulus alone. 

As he worked, Regulus pumped himself between his fingers. You could feel him edging towards release just as a second orgasm washed over you. Regulus looked up when you tugged at his hair. 

“Don’t cum yet, baby,” you said hoarsely. “Not until you’re inside me again.” 

“Mon dieu, you kill me when you say things like that.” Regulus hissed as he wrapped your legs around his waist. The groan that escaped his lips as he slipped inside of you again was downright vulgar. “My filthy fucking girl. I love being inside of you.”

You whimpered in response, bringing him closer as he pounded into you again and again. “I love when you fill me up, Reg. You’re the only one who can make me feel like this. You’re the only one who can fuck me like I need. Gods, you’re perfect.” 

“You feel so fucking good,” Regulus whispered against your lips. “Gods, I’m so close.”

“I know, Reggie. I know.” You kissed him, sighing as you canted your hips to match his rhythm. “I want to feel you cum inside of me, pretty boy.” 

Regulus grunted, his thrusts growing sloppy and desperate. Your words sent him over the edge and he came with a gasp, biting into your shoulder to keep himself from waking up the dungeons. You held him as the orgasm seized his body, whispering sweet nothings into his ear and following the praise with adoring kisses. 

Your heart warmed as he gazed lovingly up at you. He pulled out slowly, peppering kisses all over your face but never taking his eyes off of you. The way Regulus looked at you made you feel like you were the only girl in the world. 

“Reg?” you murmured. 

“Yes, my love?” 

“I think I like studying after all.” Regulus chuckled against your skin, his curls tickling your neck. “You’re excellent at inspiring motivation.” 

“Anything for you, mon amour. I was a goner the second you called me pretty boy.” 

“Is that so?” You teased, kissing the tip of his nose. “Well, you are, you know. You’re my pretty boy.” 

“Don’t say that unless you’re ready for another round.” 

“I’m always ready for you, Reggie. I can’t get enough.”

Regulus picked you up bridal style and carried you to the bed. “Je t'aime de tout mon cœur, my cheeky girl.”

“I love you too, Regulus Arcturus Black.” You smiled and kissed his temple. “With all my heart.”

[every-vowel-is-o]

Marvin's Marvellous Mechanical Museum Daily

-@mlm-mlm-daily

Morvon's Morvolloos Mochonocol Mosoom Doolo

-@mlm-mlm-doolo

Truly. Wise words, friend.

[solarsturniolo]

Overstimulated Matt hcs??? Nextrrtr

Overstimulated!Matt Headcanons

Warnings: sexual content / cursing / overstimulation / p in v / no protection / cockwarming / use of ‘mommy’ kink if you squint / sub!matt / safe word

He can normally last a good three or four rounds before he’s empty and has nothing left to give. Five was the most he’s ever done.

He looks so pretty with his head thrown back, jaw slack, back arching to lift off of the mattress.

“F-Fuck please please please p-please, yes j-just like that, o-oh god, please f-fuck please please it feels s-so good.”

He’ll rut his hips up like an animal in heat, he can’t help it, his hips have a mind of their own when he’s blissed out like this. It’s hard to control himself when you make him feel so good.

He’ll watch with hooded eyes, his lips parted and spilling out numerous whimpers and pleas. He admires the way you touch him and please him, how your thumb rubs over his tip with each stroke. He’ll try hard to watch the entire time, it was almost pornographic the way you took care of him, but he would fail each time.

As waves of pleasure flood his body and his mind, he’ll lose the ability to hold himself up. He’ll fall back against the pillows, all of his energy going into thrusting his hips in time with your strokes.

By the time he’s reached his third orgasm he’s a sensitive, whining mess. His abdomen slick with his cum. The tip of his dick painfully red and leaking with his arousal.

“I-I-I c-can’t” he pants, trying to twist his hips away. But he knows his safe word. He knows what to say to make it all stop, but he doesn’t say it. He’s addicted to the feeling.

The pain is short lived, and the pleasure that follows is stronger and more intense than the previous times. He can’t keep his composure, all he can do is pant and whine and beg for you to keep going.

“F-Fuck, it feels s-so good. Don’t stop, please don’t stop. P-Please, i’m a good boy. I’m s-so good, f-fuck.”

He’ll try so hard to suppress it, but he’ll let a few ‘mommy’s slip out as he feels himself reaching his next orgasm.

His vocabulary diminishes to single worded pleas and a string of vowels falling from his lips as he lays there under your control in pure ecstasy.

By his fourth orgasm, he’s spent. His throat dry and raspy from all of the whining and begging he had previously been doing, he’ll whimper the safe word and look up at you with glassy lustful eyes He’ll let his head fall back onto the pillows and he’ll catch his breath, hiccuping and whimpering softly as his dick throbs and aches.

He’ll blush as you praise him for how well he did. He’ll turn his head slightly to look at you, his eyelids heavy, his cheeks rosy and warm, his hair sticking to his forehead. He’ll muster up a hoarse ‘thank you’ and he’ll let himself relax as you caress him and hold him afterwards.

He’ll lean into you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you flush against his body. He’ll leave sloppy, open mouthed kisses all over your shoulders, your collarbone, your neck, your upper chest. He’ll pant heavily. He’ll mumble a quiet “God, I love you,” while his lips brush over your skin.

You’d have to be very gentle with him. He’s very sensitive, any accidental sensation against his dick will have him whimpering and biting at your skin. Some nights he’ll insist on being cockwarmed ‘to help ease the sensitivity’.

Not that you’re one to deny cockwarming him, you just know you’ll end up waking in the morning with a mess inside of you.

He’ll wake up too and pull your body closer to him. ‘Don’t go yet, you’re so warm,’ he’ll whisper. His hands tracing over your body, memorizing every curve and dip with his fingers.

When you finally do decide to get out of bed, Matt will wince as you ease yourself off of him. He’ll watch and lick his lips as his seed drools from your entrance, your thighs already sticky and glistening with a mix of arousal and sweat.

And with that, he’ll admit that “There’s no better way to wake up in the morning.”

——————

Tags: @flowerxbunnie @mattslolita @mattsbratt69 @oversturn @simplysturn @soursturniolo @megamett44-lover @sturnybabes @jjmaybankswifes-blog @plasticferal @cupidsword @liz-stxrn @sturniolosreads @sturnioloskies @bernardsleftbootycheek @egirlshit @matthemunch44 @nonamegirlxsturniolo @chrizz333 @sturniolopowers @mattsleftnipple03 @worldlxvlys @hearts4chris @tillies33ssss @janiellasblog @creamoncreamoncream2 @breeloveschris @meg-sturniolo @ellie-luvsfics @mattsfavwh3re @lustfulslxt @braindead4l @xtravrgnoliveoil @ghostlythinggoingaround @taekwite @rootbeerworshiper @leah-loves-lilies @querenciasturniolo @whicked-hazlatwhore @lacysturniolo @sara2233445 @junnniiieee07

[lyralit]

writers' game:

random number generator from 1 - 20. whatever it lands on, add that character to your plotline

fairy that collects vintage fingernails

space guard orc with a soft spot for teen flicks

overzealous evil senator

twins that start conversations out loud and end them in their heads

found family between a space barbarian grandparent and a polygot chicken

a baker who only speaks in riddles

dogman

a mute writer

enemies linked to each other (one gets hurt, so does the other)

a companion turtle whose only vowel is "o" (most of their vocabulary is "oh no!")

pixie backseat driver

sunglasses + flipflops wearing ancient wizard

magistrate who is able to talk out of any situation

witch who treats every potion like a chemistry class (counts the molecules in each bottle)

witch who throws in a random ingredient every time (think "george's marvellous medicine")

child who has never seen a narwhal before, only heard of them in stories (lots of pointing and "oh, it's that! isn't it!")

skinny quarterback who can take down a whole team

human-alien alien translator who only knows Ancient Greek

guy who breaks into houses, steals their items, and replaces them with nicer ones

police chief who is head of the local mafia

[every-vowel-is-o]

Ovoro tomo o goy woors o skort o homophobo dops poss ot on

Every time a guy wears a skirt a homophobe dies pass it on

[adventuringblind]

AUS24 (3k words)

Oscar Piastri x Liam Lawson x Reader x Logan Sargeant

Genre: Angst, fluff, spice, A/B/O AU

Summary: James Vowels takes things a step further when covering his ass in the media. Logan and his mate pay the price but Oscar and Liam are there to help.

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, heat/rut cycles, James Vowels is the bad guy in this one, Alex being a king, Thigh riding, other alluded to sexual things but not specific so IDK what else to put

Notes: This one was a lot and I hope I filled the request okay! I struggled... Therefore y'all should feed my praise kink in order to motivate me. Jk...... unless?

Side Note: My ABO dynamics and how I write it is different so be forewarned ig. Also, NSFW under the cut. MINORS AVERT YOUR EYES!

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

Oscar didn’t think much of it when he jumped out of the car and didn't see Logan. He figured he’d rushed off to make sure Alex was okay after that nasty crash and see if the team was going to be able to fix the beta’s car. 

Practice had gone pretty decent. He should probably meet up with Lando to talk about how he’d felt in the car. All things considered, he’s mildly optimistic. 

The itch in his neck leaves him wondering which of his three mates could possibly be annoyed. Oscar usually assumes Liam, given the nature of the omega. Oscar had to learn to pick his battles early on. He understands that in entirely alpha or omega families, dynamics have to be flexible. Liam is more alpha coded then he is omega. Unfortunately for the mess of things that is the paddock, people give him shit for it and Oscar has had to haul the kiwi away before he killed somebody. 

Oscar, because he’d prefer not to spend his home race weekend bailing Liam out of jail, speeds off towards the RB garage. He doesn’t have to go far since Liam is also sprinting in his direction. “Oscar! Are you alright? I thought maybe something happened when you got out of the car since I feel all prickly.” The blonde smells both annoyed and concerned. 

Oscar shakes his head. “I thought you might be trying to take the head off Helmut again…” He shakes his head and continues his walk down to the Williams garage with Liam on his heels. “Have you seen the other two at all?” 

“Her and Logan walked down to the William's garage together. That was about twenty minutes ago.” 

On their trek to the end of the paddock, They end up running into George. The second British Omega on the grid. He’s pacing outside of the garage and Oscar has to bite back a gag at how distressed he smells. “George?”

“Oscar! They won’t let me in.” He’s raking fingers through his and getting increasingly more distressed the longer they are stuck outside. “He sent me a text saying something happened, but didn’t elaborate. I can feel his anger.” 

Oscar, because he has no idea what to do in this scenario, sends Liam with George to find Lewis, or Carlos, or Max, or Lando, or anyone else who might know what to do right now because he has no idea. He just needs to see the other half of his mates or he’s going to lose it. 

He tries to flag down anyone in the vicinity, only to be ignored. He’s about ready to come unhinged until he gets the attention of James. The alpha team principal keeps his distance - the invisible boundary line the only thing keeping Oscar from shaking the information out of him. Only, James doesn’t just smell like James. No - he smells like Oscar’s other two omegas. Both of which must be in heat. 

He tries to breathe; reign himself in so he doesn’t lose it and end his entire career (though he will if it comes down to it). “Where are they?” If there is a growl laced within the question, he can’t be bothered to care.”

James looks like he might jump into an explanation of some kind, but gets foiled by Alex. The beta looks pissed. The kind of anger that shows in every movement. 

“JAMES!” While Oscar flinches at the olders tone, James remains calm. It's aggravating in a way. “Tell Oscar what you did or I will.”

James sighs and motions for the Australian to follow him. Alex can't growl, but the way he's seething tells Oscar that he would if he could. It's ironic to think that between the three of them, Alex is the most angry compared to the two alphas trudging through the garage.  

James gestures for him to go inside. The scent leaking through the cracks in the door is terribly seductive and Oscar has to dig his nails into the palm of his hands to ground himself. “Neither of them were supposed to be in heat this early. All four of us are synced and just went through this a month ago.” he stares down the older alpha for an explanation. 

He takes an inventory of his own body. His own reaction to his mates in heat is more… intense. Like he can't keep himself off them. Currently he feels more protective than anything. 

“since James won't tell you, I will-”

“It's team business!” 

“Not when the safety of others is concerned!” 

James makes a lunge for Logan but Oscar matches his speed and steps in front of him. He wants to retch at how awful James smells at the moment. 

Four pairs of footsteps from the direction they had come from. Liam and George have managed to find them and dragged Carlos and Lando as well. It's terribly comforting to have more people around. 

“what's going on?” Lando whines at the door the closer he gets. “Is Logan in heat? But didn't he just have one?” 

Alex is much taller than Oscar, but the beta appreciates the gesture given the nature of how betas usually are towards anyone else. “Oscar, why don't you, me, George and James speak about this in his office. Carlos can come too, if you'd like.” 

“yeah - yeah okay. I need to know what happened.” He looks around for Liam and pulls him away from James. “Sorry - I don't know what's happening. I didn't mean too-” 

Liam attaches himself to the alpha and noses at his neck. “I'll take care of them while you're gone. Lando is going to stay also.” 

Oscar nods, kisses his head, and drags himself away. He doesn't want to go anywhere but inside that room. Be it biology or his own mind, clearly something is wrong and he would desperately like to be there for the people he loves. Still, Liam is here and that makes things better. They aren't alone. 

They settle into chairs in James’ office. Carlos opts to stay by the door watching everything going on outside. “Why are they taking apart Logan's car?” 

Oscar blinks at him. They're what?” 

“I crashed the car and broke the chassis. James decided to punish Logan for it. But that's not even the worst part!” Alex looks expectantly to his team principal. A silent urge for him to tell his own story. He gestures for Alex to come continue on and the beta rolls his eyes. “Logan and y/n walked here together. James summoned them into the office together. He told Logan he was going to give me his car. Obviously, I said no and…” 

George shuffles his way over to Alex. The physical contact between the two seems to lessen Alex's rising emotions. “It was probably my fault, since I kept saying no.” Alex throws a packet of heat inducers on the table. “I was restrained. James didn't show he had a whole package - just dissolved way over the recommended amount into a cup and commanded Logan to drink it. She got to it first so he didn't have to drink it, and downed the entire thing in seconds.” 

“That doesn't explain Logan’s-”

“He had more and just repeated it. Then he used that fucking voice to get them to not tell anybody and lock themselves away.” Alex looks like he's on the brink of tears. “I'm sorry, Oscar.” 

Oh - the rage that's building beneath his skin. He moves to throw himself at James, but is foiled by Carlos. “You can't help from jail.” 

Which, the Spaniard isn't wrong, so Oscar goes limp in his hold. He takes a few ragged breaths to force himself to calm down. “It's not your fault Alex, at all. Sounds to me like it's a move to cover his own ass.” 

“Alex is out best chance-” 

“Bullshit! I just murdered my car!” 

The door to the office is thrown open and Oscar has no time to react to the fact Max and Daniel, his pack alpha and omega - respectively, got word of this. 

“Did we need to alert the entire grid, Alex?” 

Max openly, and without hesitation, growls at the team principal in question. Daniel hits him upside the head to get him to stop. “Where’s Logan at?”

“My driver doesn’t need anymore assistance, Daniel-” 

All of them (aside from Alex) Descend into a fit of threatening noises. “Really? Because heat inducers can fuck up anyone’s body on a normal dose. Trust me James, I’ve been in this scenario with my own team.”

Briefly, Oscar recalls Lando talking about McLaren trying to induce Daniel’s heat without his knowledge. Andrea is a much better team principal and He can vividly recall Lando near sobbing when they were assured that would never happen. 

“In Logan’s room.” 

“Great! Here’s what we’re going to do then.” 

George has to drag Alex away from the Office and back up to his room. The British Omega throws a middle finger at James before he’s out of sight completely. Max is staying with James until things get sorted out. Which - unfortunately since the laws are so unfair - will mean James gets away scot free. Daniel says he’s going to be subjected to a lecture first. The rest of them head back to Logan’s room with the intent on getting out of the building. 

“Should I call Andrea and Zak?” Oscar looks desperately at Daniel for instructions. He’s never had to leave so suddenly and has no clue if there is a protocol for these things or not. 

“No worries, I took care of it. We just need to get them out of the paddock.” the older Aussie pats his shoulder reassuringly. “I’m assuming the four of you aren’t prepared at all?” 

Oscar shakes his head. “We all synched just last month.” 

“Anything you need then? I can send George and Alex on errands. Actually, I’m hoping for that seeing as Alex is desperate to help.” 

“I hope he sees that this isn’t his fault.”

“He’ll come around, I hope you know it’s not your fault either.” 

And here Oscar thought he was hiding it so well. He tries to shake it off, play his own insecurities down. “I’m-”

“Relax mate, Max felt guilty for weeks.”

“But it’s my job to protect them-” The voice crack was unnecessary and completely screwed him over in terms of hiding whatever feeling he had buried.

Daniel turns to face him right outside the door. “You can’t change the past, Oscar. You were never going to be able to stop this from happening. What you can do is help them now because they need you.” 

Oscar nods with newfound determination, and opens the door.

She certainly wouldn’t say it was her greatest decision, definitely one of the easier ones in the moment. She’d downed the drink without a hesitation. 

They’d attempted a nest. Tried to make the room comfortable. The amount of drugs in their systems was not making it easy. Instead opting to throw everything on the floor and try to sleep before they can’t. 

They’d stripped down to undergarments within the last few minutes. The heat steadily building and becoming too much. Still, she lays plastered against Logans body; his scent intoxicating. 

“You didn’t have to do that for me.” He noses at her neck, teeth nipping at the three scars lining her collar bone. 

“Wanted to help, Lo.” She feels like crying. The odd lack of connection bombarded her after James used his stupid voice. “Wanted you to race.” 

The door squeaks open sometime later. After a nap and the first round of what will probably be many. She peaks her head out from around Logan who’s gone defensive from the new intrusion. Only - Liam peaks his head inside and Lando follows before shutting the door again. She whimpers and tries to claw her way to Liam, but is pushed back gently by Lando. 

“He’s grabbing a few things.” She can see him trying to smile gently at her. 

Liam ends up between them, his own shirt off and one of Oscar’s sweatshirts in hand. She makes herself as small as possible to curl up into his side. “Do you two need anything specific right now.” 

“Where’s Osc?” Logan beats her to the question. 

“Talking with James, I believe.” 

The whines are involuntary. That part of her brain still fighting for its life wants to know why he’s not here right now. The overthinking side is claiming it’s because she’s undesirable now. “Does he still want us?” 

Liam coos at her, as does Logan and Lando. “You'll never not be undesirable.” 

“But what about James?”

“What do you mean?” She can feel Liams muscles tense underneath her. She shrinks in an attempt to hide from the new angry scent permeating the room. 

Thankfully, Logan takes over for her. “He used his voice on us. He wanted to give me inducers…” 

She, despite the struggle, rolls herself over Liam and into Logan's lap. “Not your fault.”

“I know-” his desperate whine nearly kills her. And Liam - by the looks of it. He's restraining himself if the way his jaw is tensing is any indicator. 

“Lando, would you mind possibly grabbing mine and Oscar's stuff so we don't have to leave here again if possible?” It's not fair really, that Liam can be bossy and she finds it attractive.  Oscar is also bossy, but he’s the gentle bossy and Logan isn’t bossy at all. Wow - her stupid hormones have her drooling over this and she doesn’t even know what this is. 

Liam makes up a list for Lando and the Brit runs off to collect the items. She wonders how long Oscar is going to be and if the ache in between her legs will let up until they can leave. 

It’s the only thing on her mind. It’s also now all over her thighs. An unfortunate circumstance where there are no towels on the ground. At this rate she might die if she can’t do something about these feelings and the longer she waits the more desperate she becomes. 

“Do you need something, darling?” Her hazy mind decides that now is a great time to register that she’s grinding into Liam's leg. She doesn’t stop though. If anything - she can’t, because he has a hand on her hip urging her to continue. “Only one of me at the moment, is this okay for now?” She makes a weak sound and makes a mess of herself and Liam’s poor thigh. Not like Logan is doing any better. They both smell good like this. 

She has no idea how much time passes, the endless amount of work she’s having to do finally wears her out enough to relax for the time being. 

“I guess I should’ve stripped all the way, huh?” She’s too tired to be embarrassed about Liam’s teasing comments. She barely even notices Liam attempting to clean her up. Her mind is too far gone. Enough that her and Logan are both ready to go again after a few measly minutes.

They don't get very far, instead scrambling under whatever is available as the door swings open. Liam is hissing at the intruder, only to see Oscar and Lando poke their heads inside. 

“Hey Daniel, I think maybe we’ll stay here for the time being and then when the traffic of the paddock dies down we can try and leave.” 

Daniel also slips into their space. She makes a lunge for either of the two Australians. Oscar is quick to react to her movements and get her to stay put underneath the little amount of covering she has. 

Lando drops the bags of stuff he was holding and tries to smile at them before he leaves. Unfortunately, his sad scent gives away his true feelings. She wonders if he knows the full story now since Oscar definitely does. 

It’s just her, her mates, and Daniel now. The pack Omega is hovering by the door and is clearly ready to leave them to their own devices. “Keep in mind that reactions to heat inducers are unpredictable but fast. You’ll only be in “heat” for about a day. Then you’ll just be sick, but we’ll take it as it comes.” 

Daniel reminds Oscar to text him if they need anything and then leaves them alone. Which - she likes Daniel, but being able to jump the bones of her mates sounds all too appealing. 

“James?” Logan looks pleadingly at Oscars for some kind of reassurance. 

“Is going to get an earful from Max and Daniel. Aside from that, he will probably get a slap on the wrist. Alex is ready to kill him though, if that’s what you wanted.”

The three of them find humor despite the nature of the situation. It’s why she loves them so much. The way she can feel safe and taken care of, but still be herself and laugh and give into her own desires. 

Oscar loses his own clothes. The fireproofs he was wearing around his waist come off in record time. 

“You're still going to race, right Osc?”

“We’ll see-” Oscar nearly jumps when the three of them whine and pout in unison. “I take it that you want me to race?” 

“We’ll make do without you.” 

“Hey!-”

“Liam is good for something after all!” Logan wheezes in laughter. Only for Liam to grumble and decide enough is enough. He takes Logan by the hips and slams right into him. 

She looks between the two of them and Oscar. She leans up to his ear, fully intent on whispering to him but gets a little distracted by his scent while shifting around.

“Need something?” 

Finally, she surrenders herself to the haze knowing she has all her mates with her. “Just you three.” 

[heart2beom]

a lost bet!

pairing: frenemy!beomgyu x reader

genre: fluff, comedy

summary: you lose a bet to beomgyu and out of everything you'd think he'd ask of you -- money, to pour freezing water on yourself out in the snow, hell, you thought it'd be more likely for him to ask you to jump off a cliff and survive than telling you to take him out on a date.

word count: 2.2k

notes: cheesy stuff but if you read it till the end, a heart is always appreciated :') if you read it and liked it, please reblog ˃̵ᴗ˂̵

there are people who would be described as two peas in a pot, the half of the other, siblings from another mother -- the idea that they complete each other, that they work so well together that they must be of the same thread.

to describe your relationship with beomgyu, those metaphors would never even have came up in the light of day because you guys just don't work. you like what he likes and he likes what you like. you do what he does, and he does what you do. for heavensake, you've known each other since highschool and you still ended up in the same dream university, in the same dream careers, in the same fast food job! and that is exactly why you don't work. the arguments that fester from being just a little too similar got extreme back when you were teenagers, terribly extreme you couldn't even blame it on hormones.

girls who'd be interested in beomgyu every three weeks would come up to you at the randomest times to ask if there was anything going on between you two and the first couple girls, your friends would die of laughter because of how inaccurate the assumption was. "her and beomgyu? beomgyu with the long hair? him and y/n? the y/n that's standing next to us right now?"

it was safe to say that after a while, the entire engineering major knew you and beomgyu would never happen. and you were content with that.

that is until that day happened, the day you lost the bet.

you were feeling lots of things before he'd decide on a what you'd do - fear, fear was a big one.

"hey, go easy on me." you reluctantly said quietly.

"huh?" he put a hand behind his ear, "what'd you say?"

it was embarrassing enough that you couldn't complete the software in time when you're known in the major for being the fastest, but it was even worse to give beomgyu the satisfaction of you being scared. you already caught a smirk on his face, fucker.

"i said...go easy on me you prick."

"okay okay here, since you're begging, i'll give you a deal." he folded his arms, acting like he was thinking of this on the spot. "i'll go easy on you if you don't ask any questions about my dare." and that was when you knew that he had this planned out - you took the bait anyway, just of the small chance you might avoid jumping off a cliff.

"okay, i accept the deal, whats the dare?"

"take me, choi beomgyu..." he was elongating every vowel and you'd hate to admit it but every time he does it, as annoying as it is, it does manage to do its job and keeps you on your toes to want to know what he'd say next.

but the long pause that day was way more annoying than usual.

"just say it!", you yelled.

"on a date!" he yelled immediately in response. "jesus christ you're so impatient."

beomgyu saw you open your mouth to say something and he anticipated it so he quickly shut you up with a finger on your lips.

"no questions, remember?", you rolled your eyes and snatched his finger off your lip. "here are the rules. one, you're paying for everything-"

"broke ass." you cursed under your breath and he caught it.

"who's working three shifts again?" well, that got you quiet. "two, it has to be the best date i've ever been on. like spectacular, jaw dropping, 5 star restaurant. you know i'm a wanted, highly desirable man. and three, if you break the rules, you'll have to try again. but hey, i trust you'll get it on the first try. i'm going to go easy on you."

and that is how you find yourself on the 9th try of trying to woo beomgyu with a date and finally get the dare over with. i'm going to go easy on you? bullshit.

the first three times, it was aggravating to know that you failed and had to go on another date. the next four to eight times, you viewed it as another assignment to overcome - like a game? that period was ambitious (hello, you literally drove four hours for one of the dates once) so when even those failed, you entered your nine times to how many the fuck you know times. you've never went on this many dates with someone you weren't even in a relationship with.

and by now you'd figured that beomgyu was just freeloading off of you. that asshole. you would totally do something like that..

like it was the devil's calling, beomgyu came through the door of the desserted cafe that you part timed at.

"hey! welcome to bist-- beomgyu." you said his name grimly, staring at him walk over to your register.

"oh my god, i did not know you worked here! fancy seeing you partner!"

"beomgyu, you literally used to work with me-- you know what? no. i just took the last order. we're closing the store."

he looked at his wrist, like he was reading a watch but when he dropped his hand down, there was indeed, no real watch.

"it's seven on a thursday, you aren't fooling me."

you groan dramatically like a child, frustrated. "what do you want beomgyu? i can't afford to hear your voice one more time this week, i'm serious i think i need to get myself checked out before i'm driven to insanity." you mumbled as he looked up at the menu, his iris going left and right trying to decipher which one would be the cheapest, and not taste like total shit. "can i get a...hmm...this is a lot of options..."

"a triple shot soy decaf vanilla latte with whipped cream?", you filled in.

"no not--wait, hold on. that sounds really good."

"because it is good." you said rolling your eyes playfully, this time.

"is it cheap?"

"the cheapest." you said, cracking a smirk. it was times like these where you remember that you and beomgyu are still the friends part of the frenemy title you both chose to adopt.

a more genuine fond smile warmed up on beomgyu's face, because he had the same exact thought.

"well its not technically the cheapest--" he started.

"don't ruin the moment beomgyu." you said heading to the backroom.

"i'm just saying, you were being deceitful! also there was no moment!" you heard beomgyu call out. secretly, you let out a quick chuckle to that.

when you finally got him his order, you expected him to leave...but of course, you thought too highly of him. because there he was, elbows on the counter, sipping his coffee (milkshake) really..really loudly. it was like his sole purpose was to annoy the fuck out of you.

"do you want me to direct you to a table mr. choi?" you said in your fake nice voice sarcastically as your back was turned from him to wash the tools that you used.

"y/n i have a question."

"answer mines first."

"when is the next date--i mean, like, your next, um..attempt? try? what are we calling it?"

you exhale, you knew he was going to mention it.

"it's today. surprise!" you turned around with a terrifying toothy smile, doing jazz hands.

"you just decided this last minute didn't you?" you shook your head, still keeping up a smile. "also stop smiling like that oh my god."

and the smile was dropped. "okay, so what if i decided just now? you know, the cheapest dates are the best dates."

"literally nobody has ever said that." he said, taking another sip of his drink, shaking his head slowly disapprovingly.

"no, yeah you're right i don't know why i just did." you said, very much perplexed those words came out of your mouth -- you'll call it your first stage of insanity.

"look, i'm going to be completely honest, i don't think you'll ever top the paris hot balloon date with that cute foreign chick."

you scoffed, coming closer to the counter with your arms crossed. "um pfft, i thought we collectively, we as in the whole world by the way, agreed that you made that date up."

"you're the only one who thinks it didn't happen, i literally showed you pictures! and it's not that hard to believe, i am universally hot stuff." he shrugged, and you rolled your eyes. "wait hey, i think i still have the pictures, let me show you."

his eyes were narrowed, scrolling on his phone.

"okay okay, enough. also don't call yourself hot stuff again." you covered his phone screen and he looks up at you confused. "lets say it did happen.."

"it did happen!"

"...if you knew i wasn't going to top your extravagant paris date, why'd you even add the second rule?"

for the first time, beomgyu didn't have an immediate response. he was quiet, way too quiet.

"look, you can just tell me you were trying to freeload off of me." beomgyu looks taken back, his face scrunched up, so you add more to clarify, "i would be pissed but you don't have to be all secretive about it. i can get over it if you pay me four hundred dollars in cash--"

"let's say i was freeloading off you, which by the way, i should've thought of that--"

"correction, you were freeloading off of me."

beomgyu ignores you. "you know what, i just thought of something. there is one way you could top the hot balloon paris date."

your interest was piqued but you try not to show how your ears perked up, and clear your throat. "what is it?"

despite your attempt to seem disinterested, when beomgyu motions to bring your head closer so he can whisper something, you don't hesitate.

"i don't know, maybe it'll be too hard on you...like it takes a lot of courage--"

"just say it!" you yelled impatiently.

"say i liiike you beomgyu-ah~" he said with what you think is a pout, and top of that you'd bet a hundred bucks that he was fluttering his long lashes too.

you pull your head away. "beomgyu."

he shrugged. "i'm giving you a very easy task, take it or leave it."

you exhale, its true. it isn't that bad. "i'm not doing the aegyo though."

"thats the entire point! just don't do it at all then."

"oh, okay. bye, it wasn't pleasant seeing you beomgyu, as always." you waved him away and start untying your apron to leave your shift, but beomgyu was still there. because you've heard the third groan in a row.

you, however, didn't notice that he came to the back in the register area until you felt his hand touching your struggling ones that were trying to untie your apron for the past..three minutes now.

you dropped them to your sides, feeling a little awkward at the sudden proximity.

"were you actually going to close?" he asked as you felt beomgyu trying to untangle the knot.

"no that was a lie, i'm leaving because my shift ended."

"huh. you know i was about to apologize for bothering you. and i never apologize."

"who said you weren't bothering me anyway? in fact, you've been bothering me this whole month more than normal."

you looked back to beomgyu, "why'd you stop? can you try to untie it faster?"

"alright alright, jesus."

the rest of the time that he spent untying the knot, it was quiet. oddly.

"done. i have to go now though, homework and stuff." he said backing away.

you stopped him by holding his wrist back. "hey, are you mad? it's kind of weird, i've never seen you mad."

he looked back at you with a raised brow. you rolled your eyes, correcting yourself. "okay, well i've never seen you mad this month"

you let go of his wrist because hes fully turned to face you, with his arm crossed.

"maybe, maybe i wasn't mad because i didn't see hanging out with you to be the biggest nuisance in the world."

"well..you're mad now."

"say i like you."

"huh?"

"you don't have to do the aegyo, i'm exempting it because i am a very nice friend."

okay, so now you're lost. you don't know what's going on, at all. but hey at least you'll get a perk of ending the dare!

do you...want to end the dare?

okay, what the actual fuck. why are you having that thought?

"i like you beomgyu-ah." you mumbled reluctantly in the most monotone, robotic voice ever. and his previous sorta serious face morphs into a fit of laughter.. KNEE slapping laughter.

"god you should've--you should've seen your face!" he said pointing at you while he uses his other hand to hold his stomach. like an elementary bully ad.

and the fit of laughter continued.

"was that whole im mad act fake? you're...ugh." you groaned. another day, another beomgyu being a total dick.

you took beomgyu by the wrist again to push him out of the back. "bye! it's time for you to leave!" you said loudly.

"alright alright i'm leaving--ow!"

you had to go through seeing him laughing all the way to the exit door, but hey, at least he was gone. you sigh, relieved.

but then you hear the ding again.

"i like you too by the way" beomgyu shouted out. and then left again.

typical annoying, irritating, choi beomgyu. leaving you to make an analysis of what he meant by saying that... for the entire night.

[spookberry]

One of the funniest/dumbest literal thinking autism moments of my childhood happened when I was in 2nd grade. I was going to a new school so I was made to do a bunch of assessments to see where I placed in different subjects. I was most excited for the reading one cuz at my old school I was the best reader in my class, and I wanted to show off.

The lady testing me hands me this little short story and asks me to read it aloud.

And for some reason that I still don't understand to this day, a bunch of the words randomly had like lines or dots above the vowels. Which idk seems like an unnecessary and confusing thing to include when testing a 7 year old. Like you're gaslighting them into thinking theres extra letters in the alphabet. So obvi I ask what the symbols mean cuz I've never seen them in this context. She sorta brushes me off and says, word for word, "those mean you just say the letters name"

What she undoubtedly meant was: "on those words, the letter highlighted will sound like what its called. O with the line sounds O and not uh or ew or whatever"

What I understood was "Just Say the Letters Name"

So anyways i proceeded to read the story aloud, stopping suddenly every other word to pause cuz I wasnt supposed to say bow i was supposed to say o. I know for a fact at one point I just said a word and then stopped and repeated the sentence with just the letter so she HAD to've known I'd misunderstood her. But she said absolutely nothing. I remember walking outta there feeling like a complete idiot, and feeling so embarrassed when later they told my mom my reading skills were an entire grade behind where I should've been. But also looking back at it like wtf how could theyve possibly gotten an accurate understanding of my reading ability under those conditions.

[every-vowel-is-o]

Monstorfockor? O profor tho torm "Ctholo posso connoossoor" mosolf

-----

god O hopo thos gots zoro roblogs ond os lost to tomo

Monsterfucker? I prefer the term "Cthulu pussy connoisseur" myself

[cocofawn]

passionate syllables. a poem dedicated to you.

their tongue is a masterclass in expression, the lyrical nature of their delivery an art form in and of itself.

your fﾉo has a way with words, their vocabulary a vast array of descriptors, their prose a flowing river, a stream of consciousness that is both captivating and enchanting.

they use their voice as a canvas, painting images— scenes so vivid, they seem real. they evokes emotions, rouse feelings, stir thoughts, all with a simple string of sounds, a sentence or two.

you hang on to every inflection, every intonation. each vowel and consonant is wholeheartedly absorbed, and the weight of their tone resonates deep within your soul.

honey-sweet and butter-smooth, lovingly composed and tenderly articulated, they compose a piece that leaves you in awe, their oratory prowess rivalling the skills of the greatest of storytellers.

to say you're impressed would be an understatement. you're thoroughly enchanted, captivated, enraptured, completely and utterly mesmerised by their talent.

and to think, this expertise is solely for your ears alone, reserved exclusively for you, a private performance for an audience of one . .

oh, how lucky you are, to be the recipient of such an intimate display, the subject of their poetry..

how lucky you are, indeed.

[astra-ravana]

Basic Numerology

Every letter of the alphabet holds a numerical weight. These numbers each vibrate with a different frequency and affect our energies and lives in different ways. The value of each letter is:

1: A, J, S

2: B, K, T

3: C, L, U

4: D, M, V

5: E, N, W

6: F, O, X

7: G, P, Y

8: H, Q, Z

9: I, R

Each person has their own set of numerical frequencies which influence our lives in various ways. The most significant influences are as follows:

Life Path Number-

Arguably the most important numbers in your personal numerology. Represents one's path in life, their greatest lessons, and their greatest areas for opportunity and growth. This number is calculated using only your date of birth.

Example: A birthday of January 1st, 1999 would equate to: 01/01/1999= 0+1+0+1+1+9+9+9=30 =3+0=3. So the life path number is 3.

Note: Never reduce the numbers 11, 22, or 33. These are master numbers.

Soul Number-

Your soul number reflects your innermost thoughts, habits, and instinctual reactions. It is also representative of your talents, innermost desires, and the subconscious. Similar to the Moon placement of astrology. To calculate your soul number add together the values of all the vowels in your full birth name.

Example: Ann Marie Smith, vowels and values are- A(1), A(1), I(9), E(5), I(9), so 1+1+9+5+9=25=2+5=7. The soul number is 7.

Personality Number-

The personality number is like your book's cover or mask and reveals insights into your social persona and how we present ourselves to others. It can be calculated by adding together the value of all the consonants in your full birth name.

Example: John Allen Dover, consonants and values are- J(1), H(8), N(5), L (3), L(3), N(5), D(4), V(4), R(9), so 1+8+5+3+3+5+4+4+9=42=4+2=6. In this case the personality number is a 6.

Destiny Number-

Destiny numbers can help reveal our life's purpose, our reason to keep going, even our greatest goals and desires. To calculate this valuable number, add the values of all the letters in your full birth name.

Example: Tasha Lynn Cole, values of letters are- T(2), A(1), S(1), H(8), A(1), L(3), Y(7), N(5), N(5), C(3), O(6), L(3), E(5), which becomes 2+1+1+8+1+3+7+5+5+3+6+3+5=50=5+0=5. So this destiny number is 5.

Name Numbers-

You can also calculate the numerological value of your preferred name, nickname, witch name, alias, etc. This will reveal the hidden power behind the chosen name as well as that aspect of yourself.

Example: Astra Ravana, values of the letters are- A(1), S(1), T(2), R(9), A(1), R(9), A(1), V(4), A(1), N(5), A(1), this becomes 1+1+2+9+1+9+1+4+1+5+1=35=3+5=8. So the name's number is 8.

Number Meanings

1

Element: Fire

Planet: Mercury/Sun

Color: Orange/black

Positive Traits: Leadership, intelligence, courage, creative, positive, independent, focused, drive, confidence

Negative Traits: Stubborn, selfish, tactless, egotistical

Keywords: New beginnings, innovation, manifestation

2

Element: Water

Planet: Moon

Color: Green/pink

Positive Traits: Patient, tolerant, agreeable, diplomatic, charming, supportive, nurturing

Negative Traits: Shy, unmotivated, oversensitive

Keywords: Trust, harmony, partnership, balance

3

Element: Fire

Planet: Mars/Jupiter/Mercury

Color: Red

Positive Traits: Popular, friendly, passionate, artistic, versatile, strong, hardworker

Negative Traits: Self centered, critical, vain

Keywords: Abundance, adventure, raising consciousness level

4

Element: Earth

Planet: Mercury/Uranus

Color: Blue/magenta

Positive Traits: Proud, reliable, dedicated, loyal, patient, down-to-earth

Negative Traits: Stubborn, jealous, stingy, extremists, disruptive

Keywords: Trust, inner wisdom, practicality, guardians, stability

5

Element: Air

Planet: Jupiter/Mercury

Color: Yellow

Positive Traits: Adventurous, dramatic, passionate, free-thinking, intelligent, humorous

Negative Traits: Unreliable, greedy, envious

Keywords: Change, life lessons, adaptability, resourcefulness

6

Element: Earth

Planet: Venus

Color: Grey/light blue

Positive Traits: Peacemaker, charming, artistic, loyal, intelligent, kind

Negative Traits: Selfish, picky, nagging, brooding

Keywords: Love, home, family, temperance, balance, equalibrium

7

Element: Water

Planet: Saturn/Neptune

Color: White/silver

Positive Traits: Mystical, thoughtful, intuitive, quiet, analytical, spiritual, philosophical

Negative Traits: Shy, moody, critical

Keywords: Psychic abilities, introspection, learning, spiritual awakening

8

Element: Earth

Planet: Uranus/Saturn

Color: Teal

Positive Traits: Power and fortune, wise, charitable, brave, confident, successful

Negative Traits: Egotistical, materialistic, depressed

Keywords: Struggle/delay, research, wealth, infinite possibilities

9

Element: Fire

Planet: Mars/Pluto

Color: Purple

Positive Traits: Pioneering, adventurous, inspirational, curious, emotionally intelligent,  heroic

Negative Traits: Unconcerned, lost in thought, self-pittying, guarded

Keywords: Courage, energy, major events, conclusions, prosperity, rewards

Master Numbers

Less is known in regard to the (sometimes controversial) master numbers, but the following information is what is generally agreed upon.

11

Positive Traits: Psychic, intuitive, visionary, deep thinker, powerful, influential a

Negative Traits: Perfectionist, impatient, reactive

Keywords: Gifts, answered prayers, wishes, good luck, aligned karma, synchronicities, serendipity, enlightenment, validation of beliefs

22

Positive Traits: Master manifester, lucky, practical, creative, innovative, talented, dynamic, successful

Negative Traits: Materialistic, workaholic, stubborn

Keywords: Ideas, creative vision, new projects, home/where you belong, influential conversation, growth, good choices, manifestation

33

Positive Traits: Compassionate, determined, courageous, altruistic, generous, wise, brilliant, kind

Negative Traits: Moody, picky, critical

Keywords: Deep spiritual knowledge, the occult, the beauty in life, self-love/care, perfection, peace, significant improvement, Spirit's support

[lauralearns]

Notes on ひらがな 📚✨️

Disclaimer: I haven't been posting a lot lately (life's been hectic) so I decided to start sharing some of my notes. These were taken a while back, based on Tae Kim's grammar guide.

Japanese consists of two phonetic scripts (Hiragana and Katakana, referred to as kana), with a little less than 50 characters each. Today we'll study Hiragana!

Hiragana (ひらがな) is used for a couple of reasons:

• Grammatical purposes;

• Words with really difficult/rare Kanji;

• Colloquial expressions;

• Onomatopoeias;

• Or by beginner students and children, in place of unfamiliar Kanji;

Every character in Hiragana corresponds to a [vowel] or [consonant + vowel] syllable sound, with the exception of [ん].

When practicing by hand, it's extremely important to remember that stroke order and the direction of strokes matter a lot! You don’t want to end up with the writing skills of a clumsy toddler.

(the chart bellow has hiragana and katakana btw, the hiragana characters are on the left side)

source: r/japaneseresources on reddit

Thought learning all the characters was hard enough? Fear not, there's additional sounds for you to learn.

📚 The Muddied Sounds 📚

There are five more consonant sounds that are written by affixing two tiny lines (dakuten) or a tiny circle (handakuten) to a character. This creates a less clipped version of the consonants, as you can see bellow:

source: japanistry.com

📚 The Small [や], [ゆ] and [よ] 📚

We can combine a consonant with a / ya / yu / yo sound by attaching a small [や], [ゆ] or [よ] to the /i/ vowel character of each consonant.

source: guidetojapanese.org

📚 The Small [つ] 📚

A small [つ] is inserted between characters to carry the consonant sound of the second character to the end of the first.

Note that when you encounter a small [つ] between characters, there's almost always a clipping sound to the pronounciation! You gotta make sure to clip the right consonant (the consonant of the second character).

Example: ざっし (zas-shi / magazine)

📚 The Long Vowel Sound 📚

You can extend the vowel sound of a character by adding [あ], [い] or [う] to them. See the chart bellow:

source: guidetojapanese.org

Example: to create a extended vowel sound from [か], we add a [あ] to create [かあ].

Remember to actually hold your vowels long enough, or you'll end up saying stuff like [ここ - here] instead of [こうこう - highschool].

Lastly, there are a few exceptions where and /e/ vowel is extended by adding [え] or and /o/ vowel is extended by adding [お], but those are few and far between, so pay attention but don't worry too much about it.

Example: おねえさん (older sister)

See you next time! 💌