#Which EV brand is best

[yadavebikegupta]

THE BEST ELECTRIC VEHICLE: STREET VENDOR TRANSFORMATION WITH EBIK BEST ELECTRIC THELA

Ebik’s best electric thela is transforming the lives of street vendors, offering an efficient and eco-friendly alternative to traditional pushcarts. This advanced electric thela enhances mobility, reduces physical effort, and increases daily coverage, helping vendors boost their sales.

Read More : https://ebik.in/blog/the-best-electric-vehicle-street-vendor-transformation/

[uluvjay]

Sex by the fireplace-C. Leclerc

Charles Leclerc x fem! Reader

In which you and your husband spend your Christmas Eve by the fireplace

Warnings?; SMUT, p in v, unprotected sex(use protection!), nipple play, light fingering, teasing, porn with a plot, cursing, kissing, kinda fluffy?, probs lots of bad grammar.

Day 1 of my ficmas celebration!

“Charles” she whined as the man’s lips left teasing kisses down her stomach.

“Hmm?” He spoke, green eyes looking up at her in the dark room that was lit by the fire beside them.

The couple had taken a trip for Christmas but due to a snowstorm they’d been left without power and the only way to stay warm was the large fireplace

However the plan of cuddling and watching a movie on the iPad had turned into teasing touches and kisses once charles got bored and offered a better way to warm up.

“Need you” she spoke, a breath getting caught in her throat as the man pinched a bit of her skin between his pearly teeth.

“You have me” he quipped earning him a tug to the hair and Braty whine.

“Oh knock it off chéri, we have all night” he scolded at her behavior.

He made his way back up her body, pressing his lips against her own in a heavy kiss. Her body sinking into his embrace, hands pulling him impossibly closer by his broad shoulders.

Their lips moved together in sync until they had to physically pull away before they passed out from the need of air.

“Sei così bella” he breathed down at her, his thumb rubbing soft circles over the skin of her cheek.

“Thank you” she breathed, her already red cheeks getting even darker at his compliment.

Charles smiled back before moving his lips to trail against the skin of her neck, teeth lightly nipping at the skin in his path.

His hands pulled down her soft sweatpants, sucking in a sharp breath as his eyes caught sight of the noticeable wetness seeping through the lace of your panties.

Her back arched into his touch as he ran a finger through her folds. The heat radiating from fire making her already warm body become much hotter.

“Dripping for me Amor” Charles breathed from above her.

“Char” she sobbed at the teasing touch of his skilled fingers.

A smirk overtook the man’s face at the way her body begged for more, her core desperately clenching around nothing as she needed more than a pathetic touch of his middle finger.

“What do you need baby?” He tauntingly cooed.

“Need you to fuck me-please, can’t take it anymore” she begged as tears began to fill her waterline from the overwhelming feeling of need inside her.

“So polite Tesoro” he smiled before tugging down his Ferrari branded sweat pants and boxers, a groan escaping his throat at the feeling of finally being free while a whine of need escaped the woman below him.

He placed kisses along her jawline as he slipped himself inside of her welcoming core, a low cry echoing from her throat.

Her hands took place in his slightly overgrown hair; tugging him closer to her body, lips now locked in a deep kiss.

Their lips fit together perfectly, moving just as slow as charles hips. He took his time with her, one of his hands coming to rest on the side of her neck as he pulled his lips from hers.

“Fuck I love you” he shuddered at the feeling of her core clenching around him.

Broken sobs came from her throat, trying her best to form words but the pleasure was just to much.

The moan that came from her throat as charles pushed her shirt up to allow his lips to attach around one of her nipples was loud, so loud it had charles letting out a moan of his own at the beautiful sound.

His lips and teeth made work of her breasts, switching between soft nips and sucking around the bud; there was truly nothing charles loved more than this.

“So beautiful, m’ so lucky” he praised as he looked up at her, her eye blown out and face covered in a layer of sweat.

“Oh Charles” she cried as his thumb came down to circle her clit, bringing her even closer to the edge she was nearing.

“Gonna come for me Amor? Can feel how tight your clenching around me” he groaned.

A pathetic ‘mhm’ was all he got in reply as he watched the way she threw her head back, nails sinking into his biceps as her body began to shake.

“Go on baby, come for me.” He encouraged as he picked up his pace, thumb still working her clit.

He watched in awe as her mouth opened in a silent scream, her walls were clenching him impossibly tight as her flushed body pressed against his chest.

He could feel her thighs shaking from their position hooked over his.

He fucked her through her high as he chased his own, his thrust becoming faster and less managed. His hands gripped her hips as sounds collided in his throat, coming out as desperate whines.

His body shook above hers as he felt himself go over the familiar edge, chest heaving up and down as he came back to earth.

Light touches trailed down the sweaty skin of his back as she watched him come down from his high, the way his green eyes sparkled with love and lust had butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

“Hi” he breathed, leaning down to give her a sweet peck on the lips.

“Hello” she giggled, one hand slotting itself into his hair.

Charles opened his mouth to speak but the sound of the electricity coming back stopped him, the once dim room now filled with light and he got to see her fucked expression even clearer.

However Her eyes caught the digital clock in the corner of the room that read 12:03.

“Merry Christmas Eve” she smiled

“Best early Christmas gift ever” he giggled as she placed a light slap to his arm.

“You’re lucky that your cute Mr. Leclerc” she scolded teasingly.

“You’re even cuter Mrs. Leclerc” he spoke, leaning down to rub his nose over hers before leaving a small peck.

-

[reasonsforhope]

"Clothing tags, travel cards, hotel room key cards, parcel labels … a whole host of components in supply chains of everything from cars to clothes. What do they have in common? RFID tags.  

Every RFID (Radio Frequency Identification) tag contains a microchip and a tiny metal strip of an antenna. A cool 18bn of these are made – and disposed of – each year. And with demands for product traceability increasing, ironically in part because of concerns for the social and environmental health of the supply chain, that’s set to soar. 

And guess where most of these tags end up? Yup, landfill – adding to the burgeoning volumes of e-waste polluting our soils, rivers and skies. It’s a sorry tale, but it’s one in which two young graduates of Imperial College London and Royal College of Art are putting a great big green twist. Under the name of PulpaTronics, Chloe So and Barna Soma Biro reckon they’ve hit on a beguilingly simple sounding solution: make the tags out of paper. No plastic, no chips, no metal strips. Just paper, pure and … simple … ? Well, not quite, as we shall see. 

The apparent simplicity is achieved by some pretty cutting-edge technical innovation, aimed at stripping away both the metal antennae and the chips. If you can get rid of those, as Biro explains, you solve the e-waste problem at a stroke. But getting rid of things isn’t the typical approach to technical solutions, he adds. “I read a paper in Nature that set out how humans have a bias for solving problems through addition – by adding something new, rather than removing complexity, even if that’s the best approach.”   

And adding stuff to a world already stuffed, as it were, can create more problems than it solves. “So that became one of the guiding principles of PulpaTronics”, he says: stripping things down “to the bare minimum, where they are still functional, but have as low an environmental impact as possible”.  

...how did they achieve this magical simplification? The answer lies in lasers: these turn the paper into a conductive material, Biro explains, printing a pattern on the surface that can be ‘read’ by a scanner, rather like a QR code. It sounds like frontier technology, but it works, and PulpaTronics have patents pending to protect it. 

The resulting tag comes in two forms: in one, there is still a microchip, so that it can be read by existing scanners of the sort common within retailers, for example. The more advanced version does away with the chip altogether. This will need a different kind of scanner, currently in development, which PulpaTronics envisages issuing licences for others to manufacture. 

Crucially, the cost of both versions is significantly cheaper than existing RFID kit – making this a highly viable proposition. Then there are the carbon savings: up to 70% for the chipless version – so a no-brainer from a sustainability viewpoint too. All the same, industry interest was slow to start with but when PulpaTronics won a coveted Dezeen magazine award in late 2023, it snowballed, says So. Big brands such as UPS, DHL, Marks & Spencer and Decathlon came calling. “We were just bombarded.” Brands were fascinated by the innovation, she says, but even more by the price point, “because, like any business, they knew that green products can’t come with a premium”."

-via Positive.News, April 29, 2024

--

Note: I know it's still in the very early stages, but this is such a relief to see in the context of the environmental and human rights catastrophes associated with lithium mining and mining for rare earth metals, and the way that EVs and other green infrastructure are massively increasing the demand for those materials.

I'll take a future with paper-based, more humane alternatives for sure! Fingers crossed this keeps developing and develops well (and quickly).

[rewh0re]

MORE THAN JUST A DREAM ; GETO SUGURU

—wc: 3.2k, fluff, no curses au, college au, alcohol consumption, new year's kiss, ocs (reader's friends are ocs), implied oc x gojo, use of the pronoun 'she' once (except that it's gn! reader), gojo is RICH

a/n: I had to repost don't even ask it wouldn't show up in tags😐 anyways happy new year baby boos take this geto fic as a gift. REBLOGS + FEEDBACKS ARE APPRECIATED!!

divider cred: @/benkeibear

Gojo Satoru's annual New Year's Eve parties were a lavish affair. Set in the luxurious penthouse that he owned which he would only use for parties he hosted. There was a myriad of alcohol—all from the finest and most renowned brands—to choose from. There was music, there was dancing, there was a fucking champagne fountain for Christ's sake.

For a party hosted by some college student, it sure was a grand event. From freshmen to seniors, everyone attended it, dressed in their finest cocktail attires and fancy shoes.

For a party with so many attractions to catch the eye, Gojo Satoru and his best friend Geto Suguru took the cake. The pair could never be separated, may it be in the various parties and events they attended or when they were strolling the college campus. While Gojo was the louder, more exuberant and outgoing out of the two, Geto's genuine smile—whenever he was around his best friend—was hard to miss.

It was Geto's smile that always made your heart flutter.

You remember the first time you had noticed Geto Suguru. A simple, ravishingly attractive man, who sat two seats in front of you. He probably was not the teacher's favourite with the way he often got into little discussions and debates with the professors regarding the day's topics if he disagreed with certain aspects of it. Always polite and respectful but with a conniving smile on his lips nonetheless if he proved his point of view to be correct. His voice was always calm in class and he never stepped back from expressing his opinions. You thought it was a phenomenal quality to have.

You would see him often during breaks, his usual spot being a few tables away from yours. His rambunctious best friend was always at his side along with a girl who would always have a cigarette between her lips. Shoko Ieiri—you later learnt—was her name. Your friends and you would often not care, but sometimes, Gojo's mirthful laughter echoed throughout the area and you were bound to see Geto shake his head with a little snicker of his own at his friend's nuances. That's how you came to know of Geto. A well sought after, smart, insanely attractive and—from what you've heard— a polite and kind individual. You had admired Geto from a distance for a whole of three years now. The conversations you had with him could be counted on one hand but he had always been sweet to you. You wondered if he even remembered you. You did have flings here and there but you had always had that little spot of affection in your heart for the man who was Geto Suguru.

In the three years that you have been in this college of yours, you have never attended Gojo Satoru's new year's eve parties. You had heard stories and every year you had promised yourself to attend it. However, every year your mother called you back home to celebrate the holidays with your family and you could never deny it. Your friends initially complained but they understood your position and promised to tell you all the things that happened. One year you heard the crazy new year's kiss one of your friends had with a boy she met there and how magical it all seemed. The other year they told you how Gojo and Geto both got shit faced drunk and danced to every song until they physically dropped on the floor, unable to move and Shoko had to come take them away with a sigh. You learnt how Gojo normally avoided alcohol, feasting on the many desserts instead and how Geto and Shoko were often seen smoking a cigarette on the balcony together. You too wanted to attend this annual event, that was like a myth to you.

This year allowed that. With your father planning an impromptu vacation for only your mother and himself, you had the perfect opportunity to finally attend the party you had wanted to go to since your freshman year.

It was 31st December and you were beyond excited. Your friends had been elated to know that you would finally visit Gojo's party with them and they took it upon themselves to get you dolled up and ready for it, paying no heed to your complaints of "I can do it myself."

That's how you found yourself in Gojo's penthouse. The place was bustling with noises—music, talking, whistles (which you assumed were directed to the people who were dancing). The place was huge, something way out of your imagination. There were lights and decorations that increased the beauty of the place ten folds. And there was that goddamned champagne fountain that everyone talked about. “Gojo Satoru is rich,” was the very first thought that crossed your mind after a moment of awe and speechlessness.

"He's crazy rich," your friend, Aoi, laughed.

Oh, so your thoughts might have slipped out from your mouth.

"I'm sure Geto is too. Didn't you see his motorcycle in the parking area? That has to belong to some super loaded dude," your other friend, Saeko commented.

"Didn't you have a thing for Geto, y/n?" Saeko wiggled her eyebrows at you as she crossed her arms, a smirk evident on her lips.

"Eh, kinda. I mean, he's okay to look at I guess," you shrugged, making your way to the bar. The college parties you went to never had a bar. The alcohol had to be derived from the kitchen and most of the time, it was some sort of jungle juice.

"Oh shut up, you like him," Aoi smacked your back as she settled herself beside you on the bar stool.

"I never denied that," you winked at her as you downed the tequila, the bartender served the three of you.

"Having fun so far?" An unknown voice made the three of you turn your heads. Gojo Satoru. Standing tall in front of you, a lazy grin on his face and for heaven knows what reason his stupid sunglasses covering his eyes even at 11 in the night.

"Gojo Satoru," Saeko crossed her legs, leaning back on the bar counter as she smiled at him.

"In the flesh ma'am," he winked at her. A charming wink that girls would often faint over.

"That didn't answer my question though. Having fun?" He asked again.

"What would you offer as compensation if we said we weren't," he laughed at Saeko's little bantering comment. He knew she didn't mean it. Everyone had the time of their lives at Gojo Satoru's party.

"Oh Saeko, you have been coming here for the past two years. No need to lie to me, sweetheart. However—if I have, by chance—failed you this year, do dance with me. That'll be compensation enough," he winked at her.

"And they say chivalry is dead," your friend shook her head.

"I noticed you brought a friend this year?" His eyes raked over to you as he offered you a welcoming smile.

You returned it with a wave of your own.

"That's y/n. She didn't wanna miss out on this year's party," Aoi introduced you as she sipped on her strawberry daiquiri.

"Great to meet you y/n. I hope my little party meets your expectations," before you could counter his comment of the party being "little" a velvet smooth voice laced with mild jest interrupted your conversation.

"Don't annoy the guests Satoru," and there he was beside his best friend, Geto Suguru. His long black hair tied in a semi bun, an earring dangling from his right ear and a cheshire grin on his lips. Geto Suguru was a beautiful man to look at.

"I could never do that Suguru," Gojo turned to look at his best friend as his grin widened.

"Saeko brought a friend with her. I was just acquainting myself. Meet y/n."

Geto's eyes slid over to your figure, his smile softening. You could feel yourself warming up under his soft and welcoming gaze.

"You are in my psychology class," he said as he offered you his hand for a shake.

"I am," you shook his hand, the feeling of his fingers against yours, erupting little butterflies in your stomach. The coolness of his many rings against your warm hand sent shivers down your spine.

"I think I need that dance Gojo," Saeko said over the blasting music and the male was quick to respond. Giving her his hand, Gojo led your friend away towards the dance floor. She turned around to wink at you and Aoi before the pair disappeared.

You could only laugh at her antics. Saeko was a known flirt and you had heard how every year she would have a little fun with Gojo. This was the first time you had seen it and you could not help but laugh. Good god that girl knew what she was doing.

"Every damn year this happens," Geto chuckled as he leaned on the counter behind you. "I don't know if I want those two to be together or not with how much they flirt on this one day every year."

Aoi excused herself with a smirk, leaving you alone with Geto. Based on how the night went, you would either thank her or strangle her, but that was a problem for later.

"Why have I never seen you here y/n?" Geto looked over at you, tilting his head in question. His smile never left his face.

"Got caught up with my family every year. Decided to be here for a change," you ordered a glass of sangria, diverting from the tequila you were having earlier.

"I hope you can hold your liquor,"

"Aren't you a gentleman Geto," you smiled up at him.

"Oh yeah I definitely am," he nodded his head, mocking your smile. "Call me Suguru."

"Okay Suguru," you pat his shoulder.

"Care for a dance?" He looked at the dancing bodies and then at you, motioning his head towards the dance floor.

"Uhh, I've got two left feet. I'm afraid I'll scare people away with my dancing," you cringed.

His jubilant laughter filled your ears as his head rolled back, eyes crinkling. Your eyes widened slightly at the beauty of the sight in front of you. You did not quite understand if the slight intoxicating feeling that you felt was due to the alcohol you consumed or the laugh that he offered. 

"Don't worry about that. Half of us got two left feet, me included. Come on," before you could protest, Geto was already pulling you towards the dance floor.

The next few seconds were a whirlwind. One second you were sipping your sangria and the next you were in the middle of the dance floor, a hoard of sweaty bodies surrounding you and Geto's hands held your waist tightly. You hesitantly wrapped your arms around his neck as he smiled reassuringly at you. Your initial nervousness faded as Geto started swaying to the beat. Before you could process anything, you were there with him, living in the moment. You both danced to the music as his arms wrapped around you, twirling you around and swaying you. Somewhere between your dancing, you spotted Gojo and Saeko. She twirled in his arms, laughing as she landed on his chest.

"Cute aren't they?" Geto screamed in your ear over the blasting music.

"She never told me about this," you shook your head at him.

"Oh this is their annual ritual. They'll flirt for one night and pretend that the other does not exist for the rest of the year," he twirled you again. "I've told Satoru to just date her and he always says 'nah she is not into me.' I swear to god he's so stupid at times,"

"I think they'd make a hot couple, don't you?" You smiled at your dance partner.

"Oh absolutely."

Geto could feel a sense of warmth in his chest as he saw you letting yourself free, enjoying and dancing to your heart's extent. The pounding in his chest increased and he blamed it on his dancing.

He had always known you as the quiet student in his psychology class who sometimes answered the professor's questions. The few times you had talked was in class whenever you had to add points to open discussions. He had always found you to be pretty. He didn't know you personally till now, but he had seen you with Saeko, sitting a few tables away from theirs. He was glad he finally got to talk to the person he had been gaining the courage to talk to properly for a while now.

"Wanna get out of here?" He asked you as he pulled you close.

"Where are you gonna take me?" You poked his nose.

Geto laced his fingers with yours and pulled you out of the crowded area as he took you upstairs. He led you to a balcony that looked down at the city below. You had never really been this high up somewhere so you were awestruck by the view. The cars zoomed past below and the city donned a look you had never seen before. Lights decorated the buildings, light dusts of snow covered the streets as they fell from the sky above.

"Like what you see huh?" Geto snickered.

"This is wonderful—what—I have been missing several things," you leaned over the balcony to get a better look.

"Easy now, don't want you falling over. Also, yeah. This is like my escape, you know. When I get a bit exhausted by the party I come here, especially for the new year's countdown. I like seeing the fireworks," you had completely forgotten that it was new year's in a few minutes now.

"Shit how long since it's the new year?" You gasped at him.

Geto took out his phone from his pocket, squinting his eyes at the screen before putting it away.

"Uh four more minutes," he leaned on the balcony railing as he looked at you.

You could hear the test firecrackers going off in the distance. One then two and they stopped for a moment.

"You look absolutely gorgeous by the way," he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear.

"You don't look too bad yourself. I especially like what you've done with your hair," you gestured at your own to make him understand.

"You like my hair?"

"Oh absolutely. It's stunning. Do tell me your hair care routine."

"Maybe I can text it to you?" He dipped his head down towards you.

"Are you asking for my number Geto Suguru?" You gasped in mock surprise. "Scandalous."

He was opening his mouth to probably say something witty when you both heard it. The countdown to the new year. Loud voices from the floor below started counting. The last ten seconds of this year.

10...

You both looked at the door and then at each other as you shared a small laugh.

9...

He came ever so close to you.

8...

His gaze was set on your eyes as you fiddled with the locket that rested on your chest. The intensity of his gaze made your insides jump.

7...

His hand travelled down to your waist, holding it with a light grip.

6...

Your eyes travelled down from his dark obsidian eyes to his lips as he licked them with a swipe of his tongue. What you would give to just feel them on yours.

5...

"You know I always did think you were a beautiful person. From the moment I first saw you in psychology," he whispered, his breath hot on your face.

4...

"Yea I kinda thought you were okay looking too,"

3...

He laughed at your comment as he pulled you closer by your waist, “just okay?”

2...

You could feel his lips hovering over yours, his eyes fluttering shut just like yours.

“Just okay…” you whispered.

1...

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

The echoes of the plethora of drunk college kids had become background noises the moment you crashed your lips on his.

You could hear the confetti pop and the firecrackers burst lighting the dark midnight sky with a million colours but all that mattered in the moment were his lips that moved in perfect sync with yours. Your hands gripped his hair as his own grip on your waist became tighter. He trapped you against the balcony railing and one of his hands came up to cup your face as he slightly tilted his head in a way to deepen the kiss. You could feel his lips perfectly fit with yours, a taste of mint on his tongue. His cologne invaded your senses, jumbling up your mind further. He smelled of nashi pear, cardamom and vetiver with a hint of woody musk. You felt yourself falling apart due to his entrancing aroma. Kissing Geto Suguru made your stomach do several somersaults and your heart was so erratic in its beating, it could jump out of your ribcage. This felt like a dream. Hell, was this even real?

You pulled away for breath as your eyes scanned his face. There was adoration in his own two dark eyes and something akin to lust.

"Happy new year Suguru," you raked your finger through his hair as his head dropped down on your shoulder.

"Happy new year y/n," he planted a gentle kiss on your shoulder before pecking your neck.

A loud squeal in the very next second, broke the two of you apart.

"OH MY GOD SUGURU, YOU'RE GETTING BITCHES?" Gojo Satoru was smiling mischievously with Saeko by his side.

"Shut up Satoru," Suguru groaned at his best friend rolling his eyes in annoyance.

"I hate you so much, your timing is the worst," he flipped him off before pulling you to his side.

"In my defence I didn't know you would bring someone here this year. Every year you are alone—"

"SHUT UP SATORU," Geto yelled in embarrassment as a tint of red covered his cheeks.

"You don't bring girls here often?" You asked amused.

"Oh he never does. This is the first time!" Gojo stated proudly.

"You're annoying them Satoru," Saeko smacked Gojo's head as the latter whined about everyone being mean to him.

"Ok what is going on? I searched the whole penthouse and you all are here?" A panting Aoi burst through the door.

"Y/n got the guy," Saeko said casually and it was your turn to turn a shade of red.

"SAEKO!?"

"Y/n got the guy? You mean Geto?" She looked over at the two of you as Geto waved at her with a smile.

"Ok this is huge?! Y/n oh my god finally," she squealed in her hands.

"Ok the lot of you can leave you know? Just give us some time alone, geez," you ushered your friends away including Gojo who would not leave without giving Suguru a rough smack on his back.

"Did you like me? You know, before this?" He took your hand in his as he rubbed circles on the back of each of them.

"Kind of," you sighed. "I mean I guess I did have a small crush on you?"

"Okay so now we definitely need that number," he tilted your chin up as he pecked you lightly before bumping his forehead with your.

You could say you had a pretty eventful start to the new year.

[isak-dot-gov]

I'm gon' make you feel it

A/n: Uh hey. This is the first time I'm posting on here so I hope you like it. Kinda nervous btw. Also not proofread.

Word count: 2226

Summary: Months after you and Rhea break up, your best friends decide to take you out for a night in the city after not seeing you for a while. while there, you run into Rhea and the rest of the Judgement Day.

Warnings: Suggestive(nothing actually done tho)

My masterlist :)

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

“Y/n, come on. We haven’t gone out in so long,” I heard Jasmine say.

“She’s right, y/n/n, you’ve been MIA for so long now. Please come out with us,” Eve says.

Jasmine and Eve have been my best friends since the three of us were in the first grade. We were placed at the same table in the classroom’s seating chart on the first day and we’ve been friends ever since. They have been with me through all my highs, lows, and everything in between. From celebrating birthdays and acing tests to comforting each other through heartbreaks and family troubles, our bond has only grown stronger. We've shared countless sleepovers, road trips, and late-night talks that have made us inseparable.

Tonight they were trying to get me to join them on one of our ‘late night adventures’. Basically what would happen is that we would get ready to go out and hit the city with zero plans or expectations on what we would be doing or what the outcome of the night would be. Sometimes it would be going from one club to the other and sleeping over at one of our houses. Other times it would end with us getting matching tattoos. The most recent one of these nights was about six months ago, a month after I broke up with Rhea. We got tipsy, went to a trampoline park and I ended up getting a brand new set of nipple piercings. To say these nights were some of the most fun I’ve ever had would definitely be an understatement.

“Girls, I don’t think I’m up to it tonight. I’ve been so busy with work lately,” I said with a tired sigh. Ever since Rhea and I broke up, I’ve thrown myself into my work as a way of avoiding the feelings I not only had for our situation but for her as well. Rhea and I broke up seven months ago after a huge argument. She felt that I shouldn’t be having so many female friends and that I could potentially be cheating on her with one of them, which was completely untrue. The reason I had so many female friends was because I was in an all-girls school for my whole primary and highschool, because of this women have always taken up the majority of my social life. Unfortunately for me, Rhea had always been the jealous type and no amount of reassurance that I gave her ever seemed to calm the green monster that tended to take over whenever I hung out with people she didn’t like. Getting to the point where I was willing to let her go was hard, but I was able to do it after Jasmine and Eve showed me exactly how unhealthy we were together.

I was a wreck for a few weeks after the breakup. Rhea would constantly call, so much so that I had to turn my phone off and only have it on during the hours that she spent working because I knew she tended to stay far away from her phone during those hours. I never wanted to leave the house and I barely got any sleep in. Thankfully, my best friends got sick of it quite quickly and made me start coming out of my shell again.

“Girl, that’s exactly why we should be going out tonight,” Eve says.

“Let loose a little. Give us 30 minutes of your time. We promise if you really feel uncomfortable after that time we’ll go to my place and watch a movie or something,” Jasmine says.

“Promise?” 

“Promise,” my best friends say in unison. 

“Ok ok, I’ll do it,” I say with a smile.

“Yes!”

“Fuck yeah!”

___________________

Two hours later and I’m sitting on a bar stool with my friends on either side of me and my third drink of the night in my hand. We reminisce on our primary and highschool years when four people enter the bar and completely shift the atmosphere in the room. I notice the bartender slightly shift her posture and briefly check herself in the reflective wall that stood behind her, facing those sitting in the bar. After she does so I hear a familiar voice next to me say and my high spirit for the night is immediately crushed.

“Uh can I get two whiskeys on the rocks, a gin and tonic, and a martini?” Damian, Rhea’s friend and fellow Judgement Day member, says next to me. I freeze and shut my eyes tightly, while doing so, I hear Jasmine and Eve fall silent and keep their eyes on me. Once I open my eyes, I notice their eyes on me as they carry sympathy for my current state.

“Oh hey, y/n. I haven’t seen you since…” he trails off and I can hear the cautious tone in his voice as he stops himself from saying anything that would make me uncomfortable. I always preferred Damian over the rest of Rhea’s friends, he always felt the need to make sure I was ok and in moments like these, I really appreciated him for it.

“Hey, Dami. How have you been? What brings you out here?” I saw with a strained smile. I have no idea why I feel this way or why I’m acting this way towards him. He never did anything to me, in fact, all he’s ever done was look out for me.

“I’ve been doing alright. Judgement Day’s going to Wrestlemania, so we decided to go out for drinks as a way of celebrating,” he says with a soft smile. Soon after, the bartender brings the drinks he ordered for him and his friends with a flirty smile and a wink. Uh, ok I guess.

“Anyways, I’ll hopefully see you around. I’ll tell the rest you say hi,” he says.

“Oh you don’t need to…” I start but he walks away before I get to the end of my sentence.

“Well that went better than I thought it would,” Jasmine says obliviously. Eve and I shoot her side-eyes as she gives the two of us a genuine smile, the Essence blush she’s wearing showing on her cheeks a little more due to the lighting in the bar.

“Do you want to leave, y/n. We don’t mind if you do,” Eve says compassionately.

“No no. We were having fun. I don’t want to leave yet,” I say and genuinely mean. I haven’t felt this free in so long and I would be damned if I let Rhea’s presence in this bar ruin that freedom for me.

My friends both give me light nods and we continue with our conversation. As the night continues, one of our favourite songs from our highschool years, ‘No Hands’ by Waka Flocka Flame, starts playing. The three of us immediately get hyped and start making our way to the dance floor to dance. The start of that song marks a streak of throwback songs from the DJ and we continue dancing for a while. As we do so I feel multiple pairs of eyes on me, when I look up I notice Rhea and the rest of her friends watching me. I make eye contact with each of them one by one before my eyes focus on the girl whose whole being makes my heart dizzy. She has an attentive look with a hint of longing in her eyes as she undresses me with them. With the new found confidence in my system brought by the many drinks I've had tonight, I find it in me to wink and decide to give her a show.

‘Feel It’ by Jacquees starts blaring through the speakers and my friends and I huddle up onto each other by our fronts and backs. I’m in front with Jasmine right behind me, her left hand on my left hip and her right hand on Eve’s right hip and Eve’s hands on both of Jasmine’s hips. We start swaying together to the beat of the song and sing along. At the position I’m standing at, I have a clear view of Rhea’s booth on the upper level of the bar. She’s sitting forward with her elbows on her knees and a drink in her hand as she watches me intensely. The chorus of the song starts and I start swaying my hips in circles as Jasmine and Eve take it as a sign to follow my lead. The three of us move in sync as the song continues. I get a little too into the song as a few minutes later I feel Jasmine’s hand remove itself from my hips and two, much larger, hands replace hers on either side of my hands.

“You two wouldn’t mind if I borrowed your friend for the night, would you?” 

My girls take a moment to look at me for reassurance in the response they’re going to give and I nod lightly as a sign of telling them I’ll be ok with her.

“Oh sure, Rhea. Take her home in the morning and don’t do any weird shit,” Jasmine says as she turns her attention to Eve.

“Call us if she starts acting up,” Eve says, sending a glare with her blue eyes to Rhea. I nod and feel Rhea pull me by my waist to the exit of the bar. We walk to her car slowly and in silence as the heels I chose to wear tonight start proving to be harder to walk in. Rhea quickly got impatient with my instability and swiftly lifted me up bridal style before making the rest of the walk to her car. She opens the door to her passenger seat and softly places me in the seat before closing the door and climbing in at the driver’s side.

“You’ve never done that before,” I say as she pulls out of her parking spot and makes her way to her house.

She looks at me briefly with confusion and says, “What do you mean, y/n?”

“You’ve never opened the car door for me. That’s a first.”

“Huh. I guess it is,” she says.

As I look around in her car I notice a bright pink hair tie on her wrist. Without thinking I point at it and say, “Where’d you get that? I like it. Might just get one.”

“Sweetness, this is yours. You left it at mine after you know what happened,” she says.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh,” a moment of silence passes before she says, “How have you been, sweetness. We haven’t spoken in a while.”

Fuck. There’s that Australian accent that I’ve never had the self-control to resist.

“Uh, um, I’ve been good. I mean, as good as a person can be after a break up. You know, I don’t think you should be calling me that,” I say.

“Calling you what, sweetness?” she asks.

“Sweetness. It does things to me.”

She chuckles lightly before she says, “It does things to you? Whatever could you be talking about, my love?”

I tilt my head back into the headrest of the car as I exhale deeply. “Don’t play dumb with me, Rhea. We both know you’re way smarter than that. Don’t act like you have no idea all the things you do to my body by simply being this close to me. This isn’t a good idea and  we know it isn’t.”

“But I’ve missed you,” was her only response.

“I know, Rhea. And I’ve missed you too. You know that,” I say.

As she parks in her driveway she turns to me and asks, “Then why did you leave me?”

I turn towards her and respond, “We weren’t good for each other. You know that. I know that. We were only pulling each other down by being together.”

She gives me a tight lipped smile before saying, “What do I need to do? I can be better, I promise I can. I know I wasn’t a good girlfriend in the past. I was a dick. We both know that, and even when you tried to make me feel secure in our relationship I still pushed you away and blamed you for all my insecurities. I just need the chance to prove that to you. I don’t think I can hand any more time away from you, baby. Take me back. Please?”

This is a side of Rhea I’ve never seen before, and I chose to proceed cautiously because of that. She has always had the ability to use her words to get what she wants from people. However, something in the way she was looking at me made me feel like she was being sincere and my heart couldn’t help but fall for her all over again.

“Fuck I missed you,” I say as I capture her lips with mine. The kiss started out softly but turned hard and passionate really quickly. Rhea held onto me extremely tightly as if she was afraid I’d vanish at any moment. Her hands travelled to my waist and squeezed tightly, earning a breathy whimper from my lips.

“Rhea,” I said in a moan as her lips found their way on my neck.

“Mhm, baby? Tell me what you need,” she said.

“Please take me your house and fuck me.”

“That I can definitely do for you, sweetness.”

[roseykat]

TITLE: Play Night

SUMMARY: Things between Jisung and Hyunjin are heating up, and leading towards their group trip to Jeju, Jisung needs to clear a few things up with Chan; about you and him and the current secret bet in place that he unintentionally started.

TAGS: smut, handjobs, orgasms, kissing, making out, hickies, soft/fluff/slice of life moments, swearing, slight confrontation (nothing toxic), use of alcohol (Hyunjin is slightly drunk but what takes place after is consensual), some Harry Potter spoilers/references (sorry if you haven't watched HP)?

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won’t be able to regulate/monitor every potential interaction with those posts so please do not engage with me, my work, or page whatsoever.

MASTERLIST - PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

🏷️LIST: @chillichillicrabcrab23 @broken-glowsticks @ihatemen55 @boi-bi-ahaha @galamxy @weareapackofstrays @anglerfishiey @elizalabs3 @princejisung @fr34k4c1dr41n @stayconnecteed @imnotjjini0325 @twinklix @meilix @dawn-iscozy @valibals @oiikaro @im-sinking-in-mud @aalexyuuuhm @baby-yongbok @1dk-anym0r3 @wealwayskeepfighting @flowersun @huening-kawaii @newhope8 @leftkittenface @20minsat180degrees @itsthatbri 🩷

“Oh, now this - what about this one?” 

Hyunjin hears Jisung’s voice from the aisle beside him where all the cold drinks are located. He himself had been scanning vigorously among the shelves for his favourite brand of ramen, only to come up short. They had been to four convenience stores prior and not one had what he was looking for. It landed them a trip further away than they had expected, but neither of them complained about wandering around far from where they were supposed to be.

After he straightens up and peeks his head over the snacks to see what Jisung was talking about, he shakes his head solemnly. 

“No. No, that one's grape flavoured and it tastes like children’s medicine,” he says to him. 

Jisung looks down at the purple can in his possession, “that’s oddly specific - oh, then what about orange-“

“Same thing.”

Jisung huffs and gives up, placing the can back where he found it in a disgruntled fashion, “you’re an easy man to please you know, but the minute it comes to food you’re so picky.” 

Hyunjin strolls around to meet Jisung on the other side after filling his basket with snacks that had caught his eye and wanted to eat during their movie night, “drinks aren’t food.” 

“Then what’s soup? A drink or a food?” He fires back.

“Not this again,” Hyunjin rolls his eyes and closes the fridge for Jisung who follows behind closely. 

They’ve been debating about this for a while now which started off as a very contentious pillow talk topic that now crops up frequently. Of course, they wouldn’t be themselves if they didn’t have opposing opinions. Jisung, who thinks that soup is absolutely a drink, has been pushing that agenda ever since the night he tried to cook French onion soup to impress Hyunjin.

Only, it wasn’t that impressive, and was rather just a slurry of tasteless onion water and zero seasoning. In order to not upset his friend for trying his hardest, Hyunjin did his best to stomach the interesting creation and honestly hoped that he never tried again.

“It’s an important question!” Jisung begins to protest, ready with an army of rebuttals and arguments. 

“Soup is a liquid food. That doesn’t mean to say it’s a drink, because you can eat soup. Plus, some soups have chunks of food in it too.” 

“That’s just vegetable water or meat water.”

“Meat water,” Hyunjin repeats in a disgusted tone. “So you’re also saying that plain water is soup too?”

“Well, if you heat it up-“

“Okay,” Hyunjin interrupts as he dumps all their items onto the counter and takes out his wallet to pay. “Stop talking.”

“Make me,” he mouths and teases quietly so that the cashier couldn’t hear him. “If you stuff my mouth with something big then it might get me to stop talking.” 

Hyunjin rolls his eyes, again. 

Nearly every waking moment that he’s around Jisung, there’s always a guarantee that he’ll make Hyunjin’s eyes roll; whether it’s because of some weird shit that comes out of his mouth, or whether it’s giving him an orgasm. Whatever the reason, Hyunjin pretends to ignore him as he collects his goods, then heads out with his best friend at his side. 

The entire commute back to his apartment, Jisung kept talking. On and on, and on about an assortment of subjects that Hyunjin had no interest in. At least not now. Not when all he wanted to do was go home, not speak, and just laze around with Jisung like he has been for the past few weeks. That thought seems to trigger a very sobering realisation that dawns on him as they ride the train back to his place.

As Hyunjin looks at the side of Jisung’s face who’s been rambling on about his opinion on the best types of pasta, he realises that they’ve been hooking up for the past few weeks. They kiss, make out, do other things, but not once have they had sex. Yet. They haven’t even talked about it, and yet, a part of Hyunjin had to wonder; was there any point in even talking let alone thinking about it if whatever is going on between them, isn’t going to last? 

His eyebrows knit together. He doesn’t want to think about that. Hyunjin doesn’t know whatever feelings Jisung has right now, but the one thing he knows is that he likes the sense of comfort that hanging around him brings. What if he asks and disrupts what they have? What if he asks and ruins Jisung’s thoughts on him?

As those questions infiltrate his psyche, his head lowers and comes to rest on Jisung’s shoulder, eyelids closing softly, “wake me up when we get to our stop please.” 

Jisung’s big brown eyes turn into the size of plates, a little bit taken aback that Hyunjin, a person who isn’t that huge on public displays of affection, is resting on him right now. Not to mention the privileged feeling that inflates Jisung whenever a person rests their head on his shoulder, which is very rare. It’s like some physical way of saying that Hyunjin trusts him, or feels comfortable around him at the very least. 

He scans up and down the cart where no members of the public come into his view. Grateful for their absence, Jisung feels safe by reciprocating the same affections. So he places his hand on Hyunjin’s upper thigh, and he too rests his head against his friends’.

For the next five minutes, Jisung and Hyunjin would ride the train back to his place in peace. Neither of them spoke a word until they reached their stop. The pair of them hop up, Hyunjin stands and stretches his long limbs as he and his friend head inside the apartment complex. 

Once they return to his place, Hyunjin prepares all the snacks for them on his coffee table, while Jisung gets the movie ready that they - he - wanted to watch.

“Harry Potter? Again?” Hyunjin groans, taking the plastic wrap off of the kimbap to share and setting it down on the surface once they’ve both sunken down onto the couch. 

“What do you mean ‘again’?” Jisung shoots him a dirty look. He’s always been pretty serious about his Harry Potter, having watched the movies over a thousand times and read the books back to back. “This is the next part of the series, thank you.” 

Hyunjin sighs and makes himself comfortable. He then heads to his fridge to grab a couple of bottles of soju and some shot glasses. Back at the convenience store, he meant to buy something non alcoholic, had he not been so picky about the flavours Jisung presented to him he wouldn’t be deciding on whether he should have alcohol or not. In saying that, it was nice to have a drink.

He strolls back to the coffee table with their final items and places them all down.

"Oh, yum," Jisung gasps and reaches for the bottle, unscrews the cap and starts pouring the clear liquid into both shot glasses already.

Hyunjin stares at him as he downs the alcohol in one smooth go, "alright then..."

Jisung holds up the other shot glass for Hyunjin, "your turn."

He takes it in hand, careful not to spill it on the rug beneath him - then again, it's seen a lot more messier liquids on it than alcohol.

"Yuck," Hyunjin retches after swallowing half of the contents in the glass.

"Come on, you know you like it," Jisung nudges him. "You know the saying; if you can handle cum, you can handle alcohol."

Hyunjin nearly sprays out the rest of the alcohol from his mouth as a muddle of amusement, concern, and curiosity wakes him up more than the semi-burn of the drink does, "and who said that exactly?"

"Me," he answers. "Hence why I can take both so well."

Like some of the time, Jisung wasn't wrong and summed it up with another shot before he picked up the remote to play the movie. He settles back comfortably while Hyunjin takes another shot of the soju.

He makes it through the first twenty minutes of the film, then reaches the part where Harry Potter suddenly gets selected for the Triwizard Tournament. By that point, Hyunjin was sure the alcohol had fully trickled into his bloodstream when he wasn't able to tell the difference between Mad Eye Moody and Hagrid.

Frames started to blend together and yet, he thought it was still a good idea to continue drinking to see if that would help. However, most good idea turn to bad ones. The alcohol began to play absolutely no part in trying to help him make sense of the plot and made him focus on other things rather than the movie.

It was safe to say that he grew steadily bored when it came to watching it. At the same time, he didn't have the heart in him to express his opinion to the person beside him who was so wrapped up in the universe on screen. Jisung's eyes were completely glued to the digital motions before him whereas Hyunjin's eyes were glued to him.

Boredom strikes him bad when he feels the need to lean over and make his long body comfortable on Jisung. Hyunjin's upper torso stretches over his friend's lap who doesn't pay too much mind to it. Jisung even hangs his arms over Hyunjin's abdomen while he watches the film contently.

It's not the type of physical contact he wants right now.

"Jisungie," he mutters into the couch.

"Hmm?"

"Can we do something else?" Hyunjin pleads rather than asks.

He never gets a response. The lounge continues to be filled with dialogue - something along the lines of Ron Weasly now having a go at Harry for being inducted into the tournament and not telling him. Hyunjin's had enough of it and for whatever reason he feels like, he slides off of Jisung's lap. Half of his body slumps onto the ground while the other half remains somewhat on the couch.

"What are you doing?" he snorts, grabbing onto Hyunjin's hands and trying to hoist him back up.

He awkwardly anchors his legs around Jisung's body in an effort to help pull himself up as well but ends up knocking his head on the edge of the coffee table. With a delayed reaction, Hyunjin winces and then laughs as he tries to rub his own head even while Jisung is still trying to save him from falling off completely.

"Here just - just stop moving so I can help," he leans back and uses all his arm strength to move what is practically dead weight to him.

Hyunjin puts in zero effort to help and instead becomes a giggling mess the second he's actually able to get back into Jisung's lap. When he does, his long limp limbs wrap themselves around the man beneath him. He hides his face in the crook of his neck, the sudden whiff of Jisung's skin almost makes him dizzy, making his mood do a complete one eighty degree turn.

It creates immense difficulty in trying to swallow the urge to plant a kiss over the soft area, earning a very quiet yet distinct hum from Jisung. Hyunjin repeats the same action, longer this time and in different spots that his tongue can swipe over. The grip Hyunjin barely knew was there on his hips, twitched in place. As if Jisung's nails are trying to dig into Hyunjin's flesh had he not worn clothes.

"Hey," Jisung alerts him. “Can’t watch the movie if all you’re trying to do is get on my dick- ah…”

Hyunjin’s mouth shuts his right up from one sharp suck into his skin. His tongue flattens over the fresh red plum mark. The sight of it alone makes Hyunjin want to decorate them over every inch of Jisung’s body, similar to the style of how he would paint a canvas - which he does. Over as much skin as Jisung lets him when he moves his head to allow Hyunjin to cover more skin.

“Y-You’ll…you’ll get me hard,” he warns, now unable to concentrate on the film.

Hyunjin pulls away from his neck, giving him a rest from the myriad of hickies he’ll have to worry about later, and looks him down in the eye, “that’s sort of the point.”

Their mouths draw together like magnets, like they’ve been doing for weeks. Every day they find their lips on the others or some body party of theirs. Jisung gets to relish and dawn in the softness of Hyunjin’s lips, letting him slip past further to explore his mouth. His needs not only start to show through in his pants, but in his breathing and frantic pace of trying to feel Jisung that he almost can’t keep up with him.

So he decides that he needs to contain him a bit, bring him down a few notches to reminds him that he’s not in charge - at least for now.

With that, Jisung wraps his hand right around Hyunjin’s waist and manoeuvres him onto his back. The abrupt shift in control makes him act up almost instantly. Hyunjin is grabbing at Jisung’s shirt trying pull his body back down to his, but his muscles are weak and tired from drinking that it makes it too easy for Jisung to straddle his hips and pin his hands to the side of his head.

“Look what you’ve done to yourself,” he tells Hyunjin right in his ear while he rolls his ass down over the dick that's hardening underneath him. "Gonna be fucking begging when I'm through with you."

At that point, the pair had gone beyond the fact of not completing a full movie night. With the way that Jisung continues to pin Hyunjin back and exchange the manifold of hickies across the planes of his throat and neck. If anyone walked into the apartment, they would’ve thought vampires truly existed with the way Jisung’s mouth was latched onto his best friend’s skin.

“T-The movie,” Hyunjin stammers hopelessly with his words. “Jisung…the movie…”

Jisung lets out a sinister chuckle as he pushes himself back up to take off his shirt and tosses it somewhere around the lounge, "fuck the movie. You started this. This is what you wanted, isn't it? To rile me up and now you've gone all shy on me."

Hyunjin doesn't listen. His first instinct is to reach out and grab Jisung’s waist, to caress his hand freely for a few moments before gliding down and grasping the flesh over his hips. The slight sting in it makes him buck his hips forward and over Hyunjin’s clothed cock, making him groan lowly. He could cum easily like this - so easily and has done.

Every position they get into to practically dry hump each other, he always imagines that this is what it would be like if Jisung was riding his throbbing cock. To cum inside him and watch his face contorts the way that it does whenever Hyunjin makes him orgasm.

That thought sparks a wire in his brain, causing him to suddenly jerk his hips up and into Jisung. He smirks down at him, soaking up the state of the man beneath him. The hickies, red and wet kissable lips, dozy eyes that slowly blink up at him…

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” Jisung mutters in exasperation like he's never seen Hyunjin's body before. “Just wanna f-”

Blaring on the coffee table next to all of the opened snacks was Jisung’s phone, he quickly bends over to the side to reach for it in urgency while still trying to straddle. Hyunjin twists his body carefully with Jisung still on top, picking the remote off the floor that had fallen after being pinned back. He pauses the movie for a moment to let Jisung answer his call. 

A small weight sinks in his stomach as he speaks in shock, “it’s Chan."

"M-Maybe you should answer it," Hyunjin tries his best to talk over the exponential rate of how much he is turned on right now.

“Hello?” He answers.

“Jisung! Do you not answer your texts? I sent about six just before!”

He pulls his phone away from his ear and checks his notifications. His friend was right, Jisung had in fact missed his messages. But not on purpose of course. If he hadn't been so busy provoking Hyunjin whose hands started sliding up Jisung’s thighs, dangerously close to his tented crotch, he would've seen the texts.

Hyunjin's fingertips delicately trace over where Jisung's cock begins to harden. His eyebrows furrow immediately as Chan continues speaking on the other end of the line about how he’s still surprised that Jisung didn’t answer him right away. 

“You’re always on your phone, I thought you might’ve been quick to respond,” says Chan.

“Oh, yeah not this time,” he responds truthfully, to some degree. “I’ve been watching Harry Potter all evening and-“

The words ready to leave Jisung's mouth die before they make it out as Hyunjin mischievously, and very clearly, starts to palm Jisung’s hard length over his pants. It didn’t take him that long to start leaking from his tip, creating a very visible dark patch over his shorts.

“…and-“

Hyunjin then reaches into the slot of the material, past his boxers and frees his cock. For a few moments, he takes away his hand just to admire how Jisung looks right now. The fact that he tried to finish what Hyunjin started, only to have the tables turned on him again. He flushes with embarrassment at the fact that without Hyunjin’s grasp around his length, his dick was able to stand tall on its own; so needy and desperate for touch. 

“And what?” Chan’s voice suddenly startles him out of his situation.

“And I just lost track of time, that’s all,” Jisung continues as calmly as he can.

“No worries. I haven’t watched Harry Potter in years. I think the last might’ve been Prisoner of Azkaban? No, Goblet of Fire? It was the one where…”

Chan’s voice drifts out of Jisung’s mind despite the fact that he’s right in his ear on the other line. His face contorts at the sudden pleasure he receives as Hyunjin takes hold of his neglected cock once more. His eyes dart sharply down to his own length and the large hand which begins to slowly tug. 

“…he gets chosen for the tournament when he really didn’t put his name into the cup…”

Jisung brings a shaky hand to his mouth, covering it immediately so as to mask and muffle something that could end up as a future regret. Hyunjin knows all too well what sort of sounds can come out of that mouth of his too, for it has reverberated around the walls of his apartment, stifled into his pillows, caught in the back of his throat which usually serves as a path for Hyunjin’s cum these days.

He’s heard it all before. 

For Jisung to keep a lid on all of those possibilities is a smart move, especially if they want to uphold the secrecy of their situation.  

“…and I’m pretty sure it’s the one where Cedric dies.” 

“Y-Yeah,” he responds shakily. “That’s the one we - I’m watching at the moment.”

“Maybe I should rewatch the first two,” Chan suggests to himself. “It’s the only series I can actually watch and understand without it being too complicated. I tried watching Lord of the Rings before but it’s too…”

Once more, Chan’s voice becomes a distant sound as Jisung tries to stop himself from bucking his hips into Hyunjin’s hand. But it’s not possible. He can’t just ignore the fact that he’s been horny since Hyunjin made him all hot and bothered, and now he’s built up to maximum capacity where his body craves release.  

“So what time suits you?” Chan asks randomly.

“Time for what?” Jisung responds back in confusion, his mind blending together like mush when Hyunjin has gotten into a steady pace.” 

“To hang out tomorrow!” 

“Oh, right! Ah - um, lunchtime? Twelve…” He suggests, his hips still rutting.

“Alright sounds good. I’ll see you there okay?” Chan asks.

“I’m cumming - I mean, I-I’ll come! I’ll be coming - going there,” Jisung stammers terribly with his words. “F-Fuck sorry, just…I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Chan laughs on the other end of the line, “see you then.” 

Jisung has never hung up faster, the phone toppling out of his possession as he rocks his hips into Hyunjin’s grasp. It also gave him the ability to rut his ass against Hyunjin’s hard length below him. Then within a split second, the lid that Jisung was trying so hard to contain over what his body needed to do, came off.

“Fuck, gonna cum, m’cumming!” He cries out. 

Hyunjin grins, and does not dare let up on his hand twisting and gliding on the length currently in his power, “I heard you the first time. How humiliating would that have been for you if Chan realised you were getting a handjob. Too bad he can't hear you whining so pathetically-“

Air hitches in Jisung’s throat, and for a few seconds too long Hyunjin looks into his eyes and sees tears welling up. A terrible, cold sinking feeling expands in his stomach, making him realise that he just said something awful to Jisung. 

“W-Wait, I’m sorry, I didn’t-

It was too late. Loud moans rupture violently through Jisung’s chest - ones that Hyunjin knows his neighbours are familiar with by now because by no means is Han Jisung quiet. He will let Hyunjin know how he’s making his body feel now explodes from immense pressure. 

His rutting against Hyunjin’s cock becomes staggered as a result of trying to chase his orgasm. Jisung clutches onto Hyunjin’s shirt, the fabric balling up tightly along with his fist. He can’t stop, he doesn’t want to stop, until eventually that buildup releases erratically in flows of white that spill over his tip and dribble down Hyunjin’s hand. Jisung had never cum that hard from a handjob before. 

He finishes gasping for air when he starts coming down, slowly rocking his ass over Hyunjin’s crotch to ease himself off the euphoria. Beneath him is a different story. 

Hyunjin was mortified for making him cry, so shocked that he was frozen and couldn’t take his hand off of Jisung’s dick. But that didn’t matter. Jisung had the intention of finishing what he started, to feel so good that all his problems melted away. 

Hyunjin sits up immediately, so close to Jisung’s face as he needs to check in with his friend, “are you okay? I’m so, so sorry, I don’t even know why I said that. It just...it just came out of my mouth.” 

He wipes his eyes after a couple of tears fell down his face in the process of dry riding Hyunjin. Part of what just happened makes him laugh breathily and nods, “yeah. I’m okay.”

“Jisung, I’m really, really sorry,” he quickly says and means it, trying to look him in the eye.

“No, oh my god don’t be sorry,” he assures him. “I’m fine, seriously.”   

“Then…then why are you crying?” Hyunjin asks the million dollar question, still acting out of horror. 

He gives a lazy shrug, “I dunno how to explain it properly, but I like that kind of talk. It just…yeah. I’m not too sure. I suppose I teared up because I haven't actually cum that hard before.” 

“I…didn’t know you were into…that,” Hyunjin doesn’t know how to reply to that type of statement, now that he just found out his friend likes being humiliated. Out of all things Jisung would be into, it had to be that.

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know,” he replies, leaning over to the coffee table just a bit to pick up the box of tissues to clean Hyunjin’s hand. 

“W-What did Chan want?” He asks even though he doesn't want to stray away from the topic to make sure his friend is still okay.

Jisung slides off of his body and in between his legs rather awkwardly. From this stance, it’s easy to see the large tent in Hyunjin’s pants that he was grinding on as he made himself comfortable. He smooths the palm of his hand over Hyunjin's hard length and slowly back down. In doing so forces a couple of strained sighs out of his mouth. 

“Wants to hang out tomorrow,” he answers, reaching into Hyunjin’s shorts to feel his hard cock. The same cock that keeps him coming back, that makes him feel heated and irrational. 

In Jisung’s opinion, anyone would be lucky to have someone like his friend in front of him. Even though they haven’t had sex, he knows how Hyunjin fucks, having seen the way he made you cum weeks ago - it only makes Jisung wonder what it would be like to actually cum around Hyunjin’s cock. 

It’s what he wants, needs in fact whenever they’re together.

Hyunjin bites his lip and throws his head down onto the couch, “y-you going to?” 

“Course I am,” Jisung replies, thumbing over the dark pink tip that leaks clear glossy precum. “Need to ask him about Y/N and what the situation is there.” 

A dreadful ball of weight pummels Hyunjin from behind when he hears your name in the same sentence as ‘Chan’. Not to mention, as Jisung said, your ‘situation’ with him currently which Hyunjin doesn’t want to process. He likes being oblivious to the fact that Chan is sleeping with you. That he gets to fill you up, that he just gets to see you. Whether Jisung was telling the truth or not about you and him sleeping together, he acts as if you’re not to save himself from the reality of it. 

“D-Do you really need to?” Hyunjin asks hesitantly, fumbling terribly with his words as Jisung lowers his head down and licks one long stripe from the base of Hyunjin’s cock, right to his dark pink tip.

“Yes,” he confirms, but doesn’t truly tell him why for reasons far too similar to his friend here. 

After giving his answer, Jisung sinks his mouth onto Hyunjin’s cock, just half of it to tease him. Bobbing his head a couple of times causes Hyunjin’s to grab the side of the couch while the other flies to land on top of Jisung’s head. 

“What if…if he doesn’t say anything?” He questions breathlessly. 

Jisung pops back up, and leans over Hyunjin’s abdomen to ask him in his face, his question bears some perspective to the situation, “do you want me to blow you, or not?”

Hyunjin uses the hand that’s not ready to brace his body by the side of the couch and tucks a long lock of Jisung’s dark brown hair behind his ear, “yes.”  

“Then please shut your mouth and let me,” he demands. 

It wasn’t hard for Hyunjin’s eyelids to shut and squeeze together. Receiving a blowjob from Jisung always feels like he’s had his soul sucked out of him; he doesn’t know where he learned it, but isn’t complaining either because it put Hyunjin to sleep ten minutes after they cleaned themselves up. By the time he and Jisung crawled into bed together, he had forgotten having the conversation with Jisung about you and Chan. Yet, only to be reminded of it the following day when Jisung woke up at half past eleven in the morning. 

He was scheduled to meet Chan at one of his favourite lunch spots nearby and was in no mood to meet him. Being the morning person he is not, Jisung found himself struggling immensely to get out of bed and Hyunjin’s long arms that were encasing him. 

Although he didn’t feel like leaving, he thought it would be best to just go as it had been a while since he saw Chan last. More importantly, he needed to confront him about what’s going on. Mainly for his own piece of mind.

He remembers something in his stomach sinking when he read that text on your phone. Despite the intense shock he felt when he discovered that you and Chan were hooking up, he wasn’t able to diverge from his own feelings. Something which he struggles to get across and might depending on the outcome of the lunch with one of the people in question. 

Jisung steps out of the shower with a towel around his waist as he goes to sit on the end of the bed to open some of the drawers to his dresser. He pulls out a cream coloured jersey, some underwear, and a pair of sweatpants.

The fact that he needs to borrow so many articles of clothing is just another potent reminder that he should be packing and taking an overnight bag whenever he goes to hang out with Hyunjin. Nine times out of ten, Jisung will always say he’s only coming over for the afternoon then ends up staying for more than one day at a time.   

The sheets ruffle beneath Hyunjin’s body as he stirs himself awake. He sits up, bed head on full view and eyes barely open, “what are you doing?” 

“Borrowing some clothes,” Jisung answers trying to ignore how hot his morning voice sounds. “I’ll bring you back some food to compensate.” 

“You said that last time,” he grumbles sleepily. “I’m also down four of my favourite jerseys because of you.”

Jisung throws on the material over his top half before crawling his way on the mattress to Hyunjin. He kisses him unexpectedly yet expectedly on the lips.

“Just go back to sleep,” he whispers. “I’ll see you after.”

With his confirmation, Hyunjin’s top half flops back against the mattress before Jisung pulls the white duvet back over his body, tucking him in. He had no trouble falling back asleep when Jisung lightly brushes some strands of his hair out of his face. However, without the distraction of him touching Hyunjin, Jisung couldn’t help but feel nervous.

He already knew that you and Chan were sleeping together. That text long affirmed that. Yet for how long and what for remained to be a sickening twist of fearful questions lugging Jisung’s stomach down. He didn’t really want to hear the answers from Chan if he can even stomach that conversation. He didn’t want to hear ‘yes we’ve been fucking’ or the ‘yeah, it’s true’ answers. 

In saying that, Jisung has a trait of bottomless curiosity. That itch to find out for his own personal gain was going to make or break him. At that, he dons on the matching coloured sweats, grabs his phone and wallet, and then heads out of Hyunjin’s apartment. 

After a train ride away, it doesn’t take long for Jisung to arrive, and apparently not for Chan either, who was already seated, waiting for his friend. An assortment of dishes had already been brought to the table, making Jisung realise how hungry he was since breakfast was no longer. 

“How the fuck did you get here so fast, you live on the other side of the city,” Jisung exclaims to him from behind as he approaches.

“Hey. I couldn’t wait any longer because I was hungry,” Chan complains in a whiny tone. “Came here earlier to order, so I couldn’t wait.”

“Good, that makes things easier because I didn’t know what I was going to get anyway,” he replies and sits down in the booth opposite Chan. He hasn't changed much. Then again, it hasn't been too long since he's seen him last. “Been busy?”

He shakes his head, “you have no idea.” 

“Thought you might’ve been,” Jisung responds, eyeing him intently to see if he gives off even the subtlest signs of a lie. “Haven’t seen you in almost a month, what’ve you been up to?” 

Chan shrugs, “work and tutoring some of these students at the University.” 

Jisung gives a firm nod, believing him and understanding how tiresome that must be to help teach students. It’s not until he pauses and realises that Uni semesters haven’t started yet. Even summer semester students are on break. He could’ve called him out on his bullshit now to see what answers he would get, but for the sake of wanting to find out other information, he keeps that to himself. 

“Shit, sounds tough,” Jisung sympathises with him, or at least tries to if he was lying.

“How ‘bout you?” 

“Same old. Working - you’re still coming to Jeju right?” He asks on a different subject.

“Yeah, of course. I took leave for it,” Chan answers as a puzzled look then befalls on his face. For a moment, his eyes narrow at Jisung, or rather his chest, trying to decipher what’s wrong with the picture he’s currently seeing. 

“What?” He asks, trying to follow his gaze.  

“You and Hyunjin have the same jersey,” Chan points out, realising what the flaw was. 

“Oh, I know, that loser keeps copying everything I wear,” Jisung quickly plays it cool because unbeknownst to Chan, it is in fact Hyunjin’s jersey. 

“Why are you wearing a scarf by the way?” Jisung tries to direct the attention away from himself

He hadn’t noticed the black item wrapped warmly around Chan’s neck until he began to panic whilst digging up something else to switch topics. The heat Jisung feels like he’s already being dragged under was starting to make him feel uneasy.

“The same reason you’re wearing a jersey on a thirty degree day,” Chan fires back just as fast but more nonchalantly to just about make Jisung sweat. 

It forces him to wonder what on earth this reason is that his friend is talking about, and why he’s being so cryptic. 

His face twists into confusion, mildly surprised when he realises Chan is trying to clock him for something that he doesn’t even know about or what for. Then again, it’s Chan. When is he not this observant? 

“And what reason is that?” He responds with an accusatory tone. 

Chan doesn’t answer, not directly. He only lifts his chin up slightly and points to his own throat, confusing the hell out of Jisung as to what he means. When it’s clear that the message can’t cross his mind, Chan rolls his eyes, and reaches into his pockets to take out his phone. He pulls up the selfie camera mode and hands it to Jisung to look at. 

Apart from seeing his own reflection, he can see something else; a few splotches of dark, reddish marks littered all over his throat. At first he thought he had a rash, but wasn’t too sure what he was looking at. However, upon closer inspection, he moves the camera a bit closer to his throat and takes a photo on Chan’s phone to see it better. 

After his quick analysis, Jisung knew instantly what they were. More importantly, who it came from. Hickies, and from none other than the only person he’s been messing around with, Hyunjin. Jisung didn’t even bother covering them up.

He hastily hands Chan’s phone back after deleting the photo, “so what?”

“Suppose you forgot you had them, judging by your reaction,” Chan guessed correctly, completely stumping Jisung who’s nearly lifting his own body off his seat as he tries to come up with an argument. 

“Well…I suppose you didn’t know that I know you and Y/N are fucking which explains the scarf too but here we are!” He blurts out before he even has time to think about stopping the words from coming out of his mouth.

Chan’s hand stalls over the pot of stew while Jisung’s lips are pursed together. All the colour in his face has drained, almost making him feel lightheaded that he just said that out loud. In saying that, this is exactly the topic he wanted to discuss - you and Chan. He just wasn’t expecting the conversation to meander in such a way that nearly exposes himself and threw him way off the track of ever raising the subject. 

“And what makes you think that?” Chan resumes ladling some of the hot stew into his bowl of rice. 

Jisung knows that you can’t unring a bell so makes the split decision and decides to come clean, “I was using Y/N’s phone for something, and that’s where I saw a text message from you, hinting that you guys were sleeping together.”

“Ah,” Chan recalls immediately at the sudden confession. “From that little truth or dare game you, her and Hyunjin played?” 

Jisung’s jaw unhinges, staring across the table towards his friend who seems to be a search engine for the topic of ‘everything Jisung has done lately.’ Nearly every minute that passes, Chan slaps him with a new fact that his friend wasn’t expecting him to know. 

“You - but, how did- did Hyunjin-“

Chan’s already shaking his head before Jisung can muster a proper sentence, “Hyunjin never said a word. In fact he hasn’t been replying to my texts so I haven’t heard from him.”

“Then…then Y/N?” 

“Well it couldn’t have been you or anyone else that was there.” 

Jisung isn’t angry. He’s just shocked that he keeps getting one upped. Chan finding out that Jisung had a threesome with two of his best friends - one of them who he’s been fucking for some time now too - was far more of a juicy topic than just you and Chan seeing each other casually, which Jisung still doesn’t know the full details of. 

“Said she had never cum like that in her entire life,” Chan adds, burying Jisung another meter or so deeper into this hole of new scandalous information. 

His body freezes over. Suddenly, it’s not thirty degrees and everything feels cold. Jisung doesn’t ever really hear Chan talk about his sex life. Even when he was in a relationship with his ex, each of his friends tried to dissect as many details about it as they could. But they were never successful. That was a result of keeping things as private and low key as possible. 

Nevertheless, Chan’s crude and very straightforward words had knocked Jisung right off his feet. The fact that you had told him what must’ve been very clear details of that night at Hyunjin’s was a sign that it still lingered on your brain. Part of his ego secretly swells with joy because of it.

“Then I felt like I needed to outdo you guys after that,” he adds.

“What do you mean?” Jisung questions with a tone of an impending doom that looms over him. 

Chan smiles sweetly, memories stirring of that night in particular he had with you. It had to be one of the best times by far to him, “you know what I mean.”

Jisung’s skin stings with scorching hot jealousy; he knows exactly what Chan means. The fact of the matter is that he can’t believe he’s saying these types of things to him. Then again, there’s only one reason why Jisung would be so affected by it and he didn’t want to display that in front of Chan without figuring out what it means. But whatever it is that’s tugging at the organ beating hard and fast in his chest, makes him furious. 

“Alright then,” he replies unfazed as he possibly could, swallowing the tough pill before realising there was one other thing he wanted to mention. “Suppose you guys are still seeing each other.”

Chan looks Jisung right in his eyes as he slowly retracts the spoon out of his mouth, “maybe.” 

“So yes then.”

“What does it mean to you?” He tests him, almost sadistically.

“It means nothing to me,” Jisung answers rather bitterly and nastily, his entire aura switching up before he finds a new tether to lure the spotlight away from himself. “Just the fact that I told the others about you two, and they made a bet.”

Chan looks up, “a bet?”

“None of them believed me, so they made a bet to see whether you guys were or not even though I said so.” 

If he didn’t have food in his mouth, Chan would’ve laughed, instead a disgruntled chuckle came out along with a couple of specs of his rice, “course they wouldn’t! Why would they believe that the two polar opposite people would be screwing behind everyone’s back?”

“You're not mad?” Jisung checks to be sure.

He shakes his head, “course not, dunno if Y/N won’t be though. She said she likes keeping things pretty private-“

“Clearly not if she told you she had a threesome,” Jisung cuts him off at that point. 

“Well, there’s some exceptions to that,” Chan shrugs, finishing off his bowl of rice. “I don’t know if this means anything to you but, she wouldn’t shut up about sleeping with you and Hyunjin. She told me every single detail like for instance, when you and Hyunjin made out-“

The tongs fall out of Jisung’s tight grip and clatter onto the table. He brings his hands up to his eyes, covering his entire face to hide whatever embarrassing feelings that start to simmer on the surface. However, Chan didn’t seem to care and continued on with his points to prove. 

“-how she liked it when you went down on her, how you watched Hyunjin fuck her - I told you what I meant about the details, right? Anyway,” he says. “She was raving about it. And yet, when she and I started seeing each other casually, she said that she didn’t want me to tell anyone else. That I needed to take what we have to the grave.”

Jisung removes his hands away from his face and looks down at his own food, unsure if he can stomach any more of it with the way the conversation has been handled. The more he talks and thinks about you, the more he feels like he’s being filled up with this bad gloomy feeling. He has to wonder if Chan is just being plain cruel to him by dumping all of his thoughts and information onto him.

He has to wonder, would it have been better to stay oblivious rather than being teased with snippets of what you’ve been saying to Chan these past few weeks. Hearing about how much you enjoyed yourself with him and Hyunjin yet haven’t directly spoken to them since that night. 

“What are you saying?” Jisung questions, tired with the bullshit that’s starting to spike in their discussion. 

“The fact that she wants to keep our…activities a secret from people and rather them not find out about us, yet is the first to speak highly of what you, her and Hyunjin did, means something more than you think.” 

More than he thinks? Jisung can’t understand what that could’ve possibly meant. He sits there, bewildered and stumped. Unsure of what else to say.

“Right,” he responds. 

Chan watches him warily, trying to gauge his behaviour as he decides to change the topic, “so, what’s on the table for this bet?” 

Jisung quickly pries himself away from his messy mind and answers, “losers have to buy a days’ worth of food when we go to Jeju.”

Chan nods, impressed as he reaches for more meat on the grill and loads it into his bowl, “even less of a reason to be mad. Looks like I’ll be eating for free either way.” 

"Yeah, looks like it."

The span of Jisung's vocabulary seemed to fail him. That and the fact that he didn't really want to talk anymore. Yes, it was good to see one of his best friends, but the circumstances that developed throughout their lengthy conversation made him wish he stayed in bed with Hyunjin just the extra bit longer so he would have to cancel lunch.

He managed to finish off small bowls of food to not make himself appear out of character. One whiff of anything remotely aberrant on Jisung's behalf, and Chan would hold him hostage in the restaurant until he tells him what's wrong. Despite that, Chan noticed something off anyway.

He saw the way Jisung's face fell when he confirmed that he was sleeping with you. He saw how his shoulders drooped and then picked up when he mentioned that you told him about the night at Hyunjin's. He saw how defensive and sceptical Jisung became whenever he would just simply mention you.

He saw that Jisung was hiding something.

When both friends had finished enjoying their meals, they were greeted with a downpour of rain that would have them seeking refuge under the veranda of the restaurant once they were outside. Just before they bid farewell to each other, Chan quickly turns to Jisung and calls out.

“It’s okay if you like her,” he says out of nowhere. “Y/N and I are not what you might think we are and we made it clear to each other that we never will be. There’s nothing between her and I, just so you know.”

Jisung stares at him, not showing any emotions on his face even though deep down, his brain and insides are whirring with emotions he can't even fathom, “I don’t like her like that.” 

Chan laughs at him, unfazed with the sudden tension that seems to be slicing through them, “keep telling yourself that. See you next week.” 

Through the deluge of rain and shadows from the dark, dense clouds above, Chan runs off in the opposite direction to where he needs to head home. Jisung stands there defeated and shocked that Chan is onto his tail that he likes you. He knew that heading into meeting up with him meant that the truth was going to come out one way or the other. Suppose it was just not on his terms.

It stirs many thoughts as he throws his hood up and ducks out into the rain to head to the train station and back to the safety of Hyunjin.

When he returns, Jisung keys in the passcode to unlock the door to the apartment, and is smothered with a waft of a sweet decadent scent. Standing in the kitchen, Hyunjin was at the stove flipping over what looked to be pancakes which suddenly reminded Jisung-

“Fuck, oh my god. The food, I forgot to even order it,” Jisung groans when he closes the door behind him.

Hyunjin turns the element dial on low and spins around to lean on the counter, away from the stove tops, "it's okay. I felt like something sweet anyway."

Jisung sighs. It felt right to be back with Hyunjin once more even though he had only been out for a couple of hours. In saying that, his conversation with Chan was good but draining. It’s not that he doesn’t like him for telling him the truth, there’s absolutely no doubt about that. Chan is and will always be his friend.

There is no emotional connection between you and him and that’s all that matters to Jisung. However, it’s just the truth in itself that he has an issue with - you hooking up with Chan every now and then that is. It makes him feel uneasy and almost makes him feel like he’s doing something immoral by just sitting back and watching it happen.

The reality stings where he doesn’t like it so pushes himself from the edge of the bench and walks into Hyunjin’s body to retreat from his thoughts. Slightly taken aback but not oblivious to the strange display of emotions Jisung is presenting, Hyunjin sets the spatula down beside him and hugs his friend back. 

“You okay?” He questions, concern dripping all over his face.

Jisung nods his head on his chest, “yeah. Just socialising, now I’m tired.”

It wasn’t a lie, but not the truth either. Regardless, Hyunjin takes his word for it without thinking twice about it. He had completely forgotten why Jisung had gone to see Chan for in the first place.

“Wanna nap together?” 

“Didn’t you just wake up?” Jisung pulls one arm away from Hyunjin’s body while the other still rests there so that he can rub his eyes. 

"Well," Hyunjin looks away from him. "That's beside the point. Just...missed you is all too.”

"Cute," he grumbles, ignoring what the weight of those words truly means. "I should pack for next week though because knowing me, I'll leave everything until the last minute."

Hyunjin lets out a long sigh. He hasn't even thought about putting a suitcase together yet either, "true. I should probably start packing as well."

"Okay then let’s both get ready," Jisung looks up at him before leaning in to plant a soft kiss on Hyunjin's lips, slowly pulling away and says quietly; "see you in Jeju."

Hyunjin responds, look at him, “see you in Jeju.”

I strictly forbid and do not permit ANYONE or any user on any platform to copy, re-upload, translate, remake, or pass off any of my work here on Tumblr or to any other online platform whatsoever. Doing so will result in having your account suspended, deleted, taken down, and or permanently banned.

[ginarely-blog]

CCXP Mexico House of the dragon Info (Ewan, Tom, Eve and Steve) by ginarelyblog

Hello everyone!!!! Mexican Ewangirlie here! I still cant believe that we are having the oportunity to see Ewan in real life without having to go to another continent hehe. OK for starters allow me to translate the post: "Only one fact is needed for the real fans to know who are we talking about. Prepare yourself to discover who they are, because tomorrow we will announce which Max talent is going to be at CCXP Mexico. screams of excitement"

Max is also bringing Tom Glynn Carney, Eve best and Steve Toussaint to the event. The official announcement is supposed to be published today hopefully along with the exact date in which they will be attending. For the event is 3 days long from Friday 3th to Sunday 5th taking place in the citibanamex center #311 conscripto avenue in Mexico city.Most likely the cast will be appearing in the OMELET stage by dos equis (a beer Mexican brand) as they did back in 2023 Brazil's CCXP were the cast is interviewed with established questions by a moderator surrounded by fans.

According to the official app of the event, the cast will also most likely be appearing on the thunder stage by cinemex (a cinema Mexican chain) which will be more restricted but with the same dynamic, check the official instagram accounts of the event for more info and from my side if you have any doubt of the event let's find out together!!! I promise to keep all of you informed :D

@cyeco13 @barbieaemond @flowerandblood @targaryenrealnessdarling @casualhedonists @valeskafics@achaoticeternal @pendragora @ewanmitchellclub @hoosbandewan

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for telling my mom to either get me what I've asked for, or to just get me gift cards?

This probably makes me sound horrible and ungrateful, but this is an issue I've had for about the last ten years of my life. I love my mother dearly, and I am so insanely grateful that we are in a financial position where we can receive gifts at all. I'd genuinely be happy with just a card and a cozy day in, but my mom always insists it isn't Christmas without at least one or two things under the tree.

I always ask her routinely as we inch toward the later months of the year what she'd like, and I do my best to get her exactly what she wants. I'll get her one or two other things too, like some skincare or chocolates or shoes or something, but I always stick to what she actually asks for.

If she asks me for a specific dress, she'll get it. If she asks me for a certain type of perfume, she'll get it.

The same....Cannot be said for her.

I've begged her over the years to just stick to getting me what I ask for. I don't ask for anything expensive. I think the most expensive thing I've ever asked for were concert tickets, and I offered to pay half. I just more or less wanted help actually getting them, because as we all know, concert tickets sell so fast its like you blink and they're gone, and the more people you have trying to get them the more chances of success.

Usually I'll ask for something like a particular poster I saw online, or a bedding set, a new phone case, ect. Small, easy to get things because honestly, I don't need that much.

What I actually end up with is a bunch of random stuff I will never use and clothing I'd never wear and once or twice, tickets to do things I hate doing.

Its like she asks me what I want then goes out of her way to get me the exact opposite of what I've asked for. She always pouts at me and berates me for 'looking disappointed' or never using anything she gets me (I hold onto it for a few months then quietly give it away to a friend or thrift store).

It makes me feel guilty, but this is a conversation we have every. Single. Christmas.

(For example I'll ask for, say, a pair of white shoes. What I'll actually get is a box of wind up toys from the dollar store, expensive paint brushes when I've never touched paint in my life, and a box of chocolates from a brand I don't like.)

This year, once again, she asked me for my list, and I just gave her some stores and told her I'd like gift cards to those places. She gave me a weird look and dropped it, but asked again a few times, and each time I just reiterated what stores I wanted gift cards to.

Well lo behold, I come home from college and there's packages under the tree. Proper packages, not just envelopes or anything else that a gift card would realistically be in.

I guess I was staring at the tree with a weird/sour expression, because it wound up starting an argument between us. Her argument was she's getting me gifts, I should be grateful, and she tries really hard but I'm just 'impossible to please.'

My argument is I tell her repeatedly exactly what I want and not once have I ever gotten what's actually on my list. In which case, why the fuck should I bother writing a list? I'd rather have the gift cards so I can buy exactly what I wanted in the first place.

She said I ask for clothes, I get clothes. I said I ask for specific clothes and she gets me ones that I wouldn't even look at in the store, let alone buy.

The whole argument ended up with her calling me an ungrateful asshole and confiscating my gifts to return them all after the New Year. She told me I can just have the money from returning them and 'be fucking happy for once.'

Its Christmas Eve and she's still not speaking to me. I feel terrible, but I'm also relieved. Either this means from now on she won't get me anything, or from now on if she asks for my list she'll actually get me what's on it.

My dad is staying in the middle. He said I'm right, and over the years he's tried to convince her not to buy all that stuff, but he also said I should've just done what I always do, fake a smile, and get rid of it later.

Is he right or was this fight a blessing in disguise? Am I the asshole for ruining Christmas or am I justified in voicing what I have for the last ten years running?

What are these acronyms?

[oneslimybastard]

Another underutilized aspect of N, Natural Harmonia Gropius himself, is that he's conceptualized as not just a Math Guy, but a Math Genius if we go by some interview trivia notated on Bulbapedia.

It clearly shows in the way he speaks since his (translated) dialogue (idk about the original japanese one) is full of hamfisted references to formulas and frustration expressed when the chaos of the world does not align with them — which to me is like, the core of his character, something that makes him both An Asshole to deal with but also a very intellectually curios and creative individual. It's just a brand of creativity not a lot of people can keep up with nor understand.

N likes math because a lot of math is about clearly defined variables and their relationship to one another. If you come across an inconsistency that doesn't fit any prior definitions, you iron out a new definition and suddenly the field has expanded upon itself tenfold. It aligns with how his Very Autistic Brain functions, x + y = z, if I do x to y then z will happen. If z doesn't happen, then that just means I have to identify the hidden variables within the exchange and rewrite the formula to be more accurate.

Black and White's quality of writing is. Like pokémon often is. Questionable at best. The foundations are there but the execution is dumbed down and corny because it's still aimed at kids, BW in specific really cutting the theme of pokémon trainer ethics short in favor of just "dang u beat me in the pogiebattle guess ur right!". How-ev-er. In my head, and the reason why I still find the plot of those games compelling (aside for my unhinged thirst for goth man-milf Ghetsis) is that to me they're about local cult-raised autist Normal Henry Gropus bashing his head against the world over and over to desperately try and make the formulas make sense, to distill it into variables he can understand and predict on a consistent basis, and failing miserably at it. Because even if the world is Technically made up of a bunch of chemistry that you could, in theory, predict, there's just a lot of random noise in there from microscopic complexities that fuck everything up.

Pokémon are simpler creatures (discounting the eerily intelligent ones) who will be nice enough to behave like math problems most of the time. Humans rarely extend that grace, the more N studies them like a science project the more contradictory variables pop up. They have a million thoughts in their head he doesn't have access to, that brew into feelings he doesn't understand, which leads to actions he can't do a proper traceback through. Which is frustrating, devastatingly frustrating. At least at first.

Due to how BW2 pans out and my own yearning for thematic mirroring, whereas Ghetsis gives in to the Autistic Bitterness over all these NTs he doesn't fuckign understand, I like to think N develops a sort of joy in studying people like the impossibly complex math problems we are. Because he likes math, he likes figuring shit out, he likes buying a nightmare rubik's cube and charting the squares out on a nightmare variable graph (listen i am not a math guy. i respect the hustle but my skill level is too low to accurately attempt to simulate the process in writing. im sorry math guys) so he has a home-made flexible cheat code on how to solve any possible mix-up of it. It's fun for him, it stimulates his brain and he is so stupid good at it that he can only share that joy with like a stray alakazam or metagross because he's a bit of a tarzan just hanging out in the wilderness, he doesn't know any high end mathematicians he can casually geek out about combinatorial game theory with, and the normies just do not get it .

I think this math enjoying is kind of a big part of his ~Innocence~ as well, since there's a lot of childlike glee to being a Math Guy. It's the love of problem solving as a process rather than a means to an end, it's playful, but severely misunderstood to the point where people kinda might assume things about you if you are a math guy.

N's love of math helps him love the world but it also isolates him. He's a genius, but since he can't communicate it in a palatable way it'll get overlooked in favor of him just being a loomy weirdo on the street chatting up the local patrats.

If introduced to DnD though he'd spend so much time on forging ridiculously optimized multiclass builds, then migrate to digging through old obscure sci-fi ttrpgs from the 80s with hellishly complex systems just for the funsies of learning how the presented variables behave within a variety of frameworks, but then if you actually invited him to play with your group he'd look at you like you'd just called his mom a llama.

He's a neat guy to me, STEM guy who's also one of those animal rights activists who's a little too PETA-coded, I like him :)

[adirajackson]

First time, eh?

Luke Castellan x fem!poseidon!reader MDNI!

(Smut) (in this, Luke isn't bad bc gf make happy 😊)

Summary: Luke has been crushing on you for a long time and now he decides to take you into the woods and claim you as his. But you've never done anything like this before and Luke is here to comfort you.

TW!⚠️: cursing, SMUT!, the pov changes from 1st to 3rd/1st halfway through the story?, size!kink??

Heyyy!! This is my first story so sorry if it’s bad :P

(Btw I’m using emojis but how do u do the banner thingy??)

𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉

You woke up in the middle of the night to a knock on the door. Your brother, Percy was still asleep and snoring. You put on some clothes and opened the door to see your best friend, Luke, with a picnic basket and a velvet pouch with the brand name Adam & Eve on it—What was that thing?— in his hands. "What's up?" you whispered to him, carefully shutting the door behind you and stepping outside to talk to him with waking up your brother who, by the way, was overly protective. "I just eh... Wanted to hang out, follow me," he said with an awkward smirk. "In the middle of the night?..." you questioned, following him. "Yeah. But I found a spot in the woods where no one will find us, trust," he said, leading the way. "Alright... There better be snacks in there, Luke," you said, giggling.

You both walked deeper into the forest and you saw a large picnic blanket with a bunch of pillows, a small projector that was facing a white bed sheet that was hung from two branches from some trees that were close. There were fairy lights hung up from the trees, casting a dim glow so you could see. "Luke... This is beautiful..." you smiled at him and he shrugged but you could've sworn he was blushing though it was still a bit dark. "It's the least I could for you... " his voice was barely over a whisper. "Thank you! I love it!!" you smiled and sat down and leaned on one of the fluffy pillows which were layed with many other ones, propped against two tree trunks. "Eh.... So, y/n," Luke sat down too and looked at you. "Can we try something... New before we start this movie night?..." he asked. "Sure..? What-" you were cut off by his lips plunging onto yours into a passionate kiss. "Should I stop or?..." omg Luke was being so gentle! Much different from his golden boy, tough guy appearance. "Please... Continue..." He continued the kiss and climbed on top of her before breaking apart. "What's your safe word?" he asked. "My what?" you asked back. "Your safe word, if you need me to stop." he was patient with you, gently explaining it to you. "Oh. Uh, stop?" you said. Luke chuckled and nodded his head before lifting off your shirt. "Oh! This is where this is going?" you blushed as you internally cursed at yourself for being so blind. "Yeah...? Where did you think I was going with this?" he smiled." it's just... I'm a virgin." she blushed as she admitted this. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No."

"Alright, I'll be gentle."

"Thank you."

"Of course, angel."

Your face turned bright pink at the name. He started undressing you until you were only in your bra and underwear. You were exactly the skinniest, you were more gaining muscle than losing weight when you trained, but Luke admired you like you were a prized gem. You tried to hide your body but he tilted your chin up with his finger. "Relax. your gorgeous, your not even that chubby, and even if you were you would still be the most gorgeous thing in the world." he undressed himself aswell, only wearing his boxers. You could tell he was rock hard but he was patient. Patient for you. "I brought you a surprise," he said as he reached an grabbed the small, velvet, pouch. He opened it to reveal a small, pink, vibrator. He gently pulled down her underwear. "Is this ok?" You nodded. He turned it on low and pressed it to her clit. “gods~" you moaned. “More?” He asked. “Please.” You responded. He turned up the level and moaned loudly. He continued this until it was too much stimulation. He turned it off and rubbed your clit. “Shit…I don’t have any condoms, I swear I’ll pull out though.” He said. “It’s ok, I’m on birth control for my period, so don't worry." he nodded and reached up to unclasp your bra."this ok?" he asked." yeah- yes." she responded. He groped her right breast—his left.— and suckled on the other ones nipple. "gods, how are you so good at this..?" he chuckled and then pulled away. He moved back down to her vagina and licked one finger before slowly entering it into her. "How does this feel?" he asked. "Good." she clenched around his single finger. gods, if this is how she clenches, imagine how will it feel on my dick, Luke wondered. "Are you ready for my dick or you still want to adjust?" he asked sweetly. "... I'm ready, I think." she said. "You sure?"

"Yeah."

He pulled down his boxers to reveal his hard dick. He stroked it a few times and looked at her. She had wide eyes. "Will that thing even fit?" she asked. He laughed. "It will, don't worry." he spat on his fingers and smeared it on his dick. He entered only the tip and looked up at her. "Tug on my hair when it starts to hurt." she just nodded in response. He entered about a fourth of it in, then another, now it's halfway in. She tugs on his hair slightly. "Sorry.. Keep going." he nodded and slowly put the whole thing in. She tugged again. "I'll let you adjust." her virgin walls clenched and stretched around his dick, it took all his willpower to not fill her up right here, right now. "Ok... It hurts less now." she said. "Ok, do you want me to start moving?" he asked. She nodded so he slowly thruster in, and out, in, an out. "Faster..." she said. He obliged. After a while, they were both a moaning and whimpering mess. "Luke!~ I think im-" her walls clenched around him and. Milky ring built itself at his base. Her legs started squirming. "I know angel, just a little longer, I'm almost there." he finally cums and releases deep inside her. He looks down before pulling out and notices a lump in her stomach. "Aw... Look at how big my dick is inside of you, angel." he traced the outline and she whimpered. He finally pulled out and his cum leaked out of her. "All mine. Forever. Right?" he asked, cuddling her. "Forever." she agreed. He cleanes her up and then dressed her before doing the same to himself.

"You hungry?" he asked, turning on the projector to watch a movie. "Very," she said. H handed her the basket of food. "Dig in, angel," he said, turning on Moana, her favorite movie. They watched the movie and Luke turned to face her to see her sleeping face. He smiled softly and turned off the projector to then fall asleep as well.

[bearyzdiary]

Merry (late) Christmas, hope you got lots of fun gifts (I unfortunately did not get a handsome emo Swedish boy under my tree this year :(( ) !!

Anyhow, I have an idea, Y/N & Simon sharing their first kiss... under the mistletoe!! >:D

Minty chapstick

Simon x reader

This diary entry contains…kissing | established relationship | fluff | reader is super silly |

ANOTHER REQUESTTTT!!!my Christmas was amazing but it would have been better if Simon was under my tree😓ANYWAY I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS!!

This was supposed to come out obviously WAYY SOONER BUT I GOT HIT WITH A HUGEEE WRITERS BLOCK! PLEASE SEND IN MORE REQUESTS IM RUNNING LOW ON IDEAS🙏🏾🙏🏾

Christmas time was most people’s favorite time of the year,The decorating,The chilly weather and the presents from Santa were always the best.

It would your first Christmas with Simon.You had one main goal for the night was to steal a kiss from him underneath the mistletoe.

You and him never really had your first real kiss yet,The two of you rarely saw each during the week because of school and important day to day life things.

You realized you guys never kissed when all your friends were talking about their first kisses with their partner but when it came to you,You were completely stumped.

It wasn’t like Simon didn’t want to kiss you,he really did but could never find a proper time to.You always wanted to make the first move but just when your about to lean in,he either has to go or you chicken out.

Well that was gonna change this year as you made it to it number one goal to kiss Simon underneath a mistletoe.You went out a day before Simon was supposed to come over which would be on Christmas Eve.

You went to your local store and was able to snag one early in the morning since most people are still sleep by the time the store was first open.

You smile at the store clerk who rings you up.You notice a tube of your favorite mint chapstick.You grab it before handing it to the girl behind the counter who happily scans it.

“Busy morning for you I guess?I never seen someone come this early”The girl speaks up as she bags your two items before tossing in a candy cane.

“I had to get in some early shopping before everyone woke up and the store became crowded”You say while pulling out your card.

The girl nodded,Watching you carefully swipe your card.”You know,Mint chapstick and a mistletoe?Let me guess trying to kiss a certain someone underneath it”The girl asked while watching your receipt print out before ripping it off the machine and placing it in the bag and pushing the bag towards you.

“My boyfriend,It’s our first Christmas together and I just wanted to have a special moment in it”You say while grabbing the bag,Smiling at the clerk.she just nodded before giving you a small smile back.

The walk back home was pretty quiet.most people were still sleeping or just didn’t wanna go out yet.you were a little nervous for tomorrow.what if it doesn’t go well? What if he doesn’t wanna kiss or even worse…what if he hates your mint chapstick.

You loved this brand of chapstick not only because the smell and taste isn’t too strong and it leaves your lips feeling soft and smooth.Of course,Your thoughts were interrupted when you almost walked past your own house.

Once you were inside,You tossed the bag on the couch while taking your coat off and hanging it on the rack.Your main plan was to prepare the mistletoe and to work on Simon’s gifts.You had gotten him some new cds,a new hoodie and a bottle of cologne.

Nothing to fancy just some things you knew he wanted.You went to your room and got changed into a comfy pair of pajamas and got to work.Setting up the mistletoe to was pretty easy.You knew the best place to put it was the hallway leading to your bedroom and other rooms.

The next things were to wrap his gifts.You got on the pretty black and grey wrapping paper and sat down on the floor,You grabbed a pair of scissors and some tape before turning on a Christmas movie.

You forgot how hard it is to wrap gifts but managed to get most of them wrapped.once you were done you slid them underneath your nicely decorated tree.You smile as you stand up and clean up.You didn’t the time as you look and see it would be around the time you would make dinner.

You didn’t feel like making anything big and just settled on a cup of noodles.finishing up your movie and your food you sat on your couch thinking about Simon’s reaction to his gifts.

You knew he would love them mostly because you’ve caught him staring at them when you guys went out.you stare at the now empty cup before placing it on your coffee table and changing the channel to something else.

You ended up falling asleep while watching a random kids show.You didn’t even clean up your mess or anything as you were too tired to even get up.

By the time you did wake up,It was around 8 and Simon was supposed to be there around 10.You silently cursed to yourself as you shot up off your couch and started to pick up your trash.

You took a small shower,Nothing too fancy as you still needed to clean up your room.Once you were out the shower and were in clean pajamas you put things back in their proper place in your room.

You made up your bed and put everything back in the proper place before you heard a small knock on your front door.You looked at the clock to see it was 10:15.You didn’t worry too much as you got most of the chores you needed to do done.

You rushed to the front door,Your Santa slippers you bought squeaking slightly and you took a peak out the peephole and nearly let out a squeal as you undid the locks on your door and threw yourself at Simon,Wrapping your arms around him as he let out a small chuckle while patting your back.

“You missed me?you just saw me like two days ago”He said while walking in while you followed behind and closed your door.”two days?it felt like forever…”You say dramatically as you redo the locks.

Simon rolled his eyes slightly before plopping on your couch and sighing.”I like your tree,My mom hasn’t put ours up mostly because of how much of a hassle it is putting it up and taking it down”he said while leaning his head on the armrest staring up at you.

You shrug while shuffling to the kitchen.”I mostly keep mine up until I have the energy to take it down.”You say while looking in the fridge.You felt your stomach do flips as you grab a coke from the fridge and pop it open and take a small sip before closing your fridge and turning around.

You looked at the mistletoe hanging above the hallway before looking at Simon who was busy staring at the television,Watching the Christmas program on it.

Your eyes flicked through the two before giving yourself a small pep talk in your head about how easy it would be.

You move out of the kitchen into the hallway before positioning yourself underneath it.”Simonnn”You called out while rocking back and fourth on your feet.he turned his focus to you before making a small confused face.You motion him to come towards you which he does with a small groan.

“What is it?”He asks while placing his cold hands on your waist which made you get all giddy inside before you looked up,His eyes following also before you felt his grasp on your waist get tighter before looking back down at you.

“I wanted our first kiss to be special!so I went out a bought a mistletoe yesterday.”You say while wrapping your arms around his neck.You were a little bit scared to lean in until you saw Simon slowly start to lean in,You followed his lead before you felt his chapped lips press up against your much more smoother ones.

You closed your eyes as you pressed your lips harder.You felt your heart beat a bit faster and your head spin a little.you felt Simon’s grip on your waist get tighter before he pulled away.

“Was that good?”He asked while pulling away a little more.You nodded as you into his brown eyes before smiling.”It was perfect”You say while twirling a piece of his hair around your finger.”are you wearing mint chapstick?it tastes kinda nice…wait that sounds kinda weird”Simon rambled on before slightly cringing at the last thing he said.

You just giggle before shaking your head.”I actually bought it just for this occasion,I’m glad to know you like it.”You say while placing a small kiss on the corner of his lips.

The Christmas season had gotten a whole lot better as you spent the rest of the day making cookies,listening to music and watching the Christmas program that was set for that night.Now the next time you hung out with your friend and the mention of first kisses is brought up you have a good story to tell.

[tunaababee]

we will be everything we say - Chapter 8/Epilogue

masterlist // fic playlist // read on AO3 // overall rating: e // wc this chapter: 5.3k

Feyre Archeron has been best friends with Rhysand Sterling ever since she moved onto the same street when they were kids - the two became absolutely joined at the hip, with nothing able to come between them.

As they get older, life gets more complicated and things get harder. Not everything comes as naturally as it once did. People change, things happen, friends... drift.

But after drifting apart, maybe life can push them back together again, in time.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

a/n: thank you all so much for coming with me on this journey. this fic has been my baby for a long while so it feels weird to have it fully out in the world, but i hope you've enjoyed! also, biggest shoutout to @climbthemountain2020 - the best beta reader a girl could ask for and without whom this fic wouldn't have been possible. <3

more smut in here btw! have fun <3

Chapter 8/Epilogue: forever and always

Being with Rhys felt so easy – as natural as breathing. Since they had gotten together a bit over a year ago, life hadn’t always been smooth sailing and stress-free, but it was definitely easier to roll with the punches with him by Feyre’s side. She wouldn’t trade it for the world, though she was still always in a bit of disbelief as to just how loving and kind he was towards her. Every day with him felt like a gift she didn’t deserve but treasured all the same.

Since that night, things had definitely moved… fast, to say the least. With any other person, Feyre would have thought that moving in together after only two months would have been insanity. But, of course, it had simply been a natural next step with the amount of time she spent at Rhys’ place and vice versa. Besides, they’d already spent twenty years getting to know each other – it’s been overly drawn out if you ask me, Rhys would say whenever she asked him if he was sure about it all. Soon enough, she’d gotten settled into the roomy apartment in Velaris over in uptown Prythian, and it had quickly gone from his to theirs. The first few months of living there he couldn’t help but get giddy like a schoolboy every time she called it home. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t feel the same way, but he gushed about it to her every minute he could, and it made her laugh. It certainly made her stomach flutter every time he followed ‘my home’ up with ‘my girl’ and ‘my Feyre’, though.

They’d set aside a workspace in the apartment that the two of them shared – Rhys busy designing dresses and suits and outfits in between paperwork at his ever-cluttered desk, Feyre painting and drawing and bringing her visions to life right next to him. Her art career had been kicking off at a steady pace – she was being regularly featured in various gallery shows, alongside her online art store comprised of her more fun works bringing in a comfortable amount of sales. Rhys was succeeding all on his own merit as well, which didn’t surprise Feyre in the slightest considering all his ambition. Night Triumphant was becoming more and more reputable as a brand, beginning to have a handful of brick-and-mortar stores slowly but surely expanding across the country, meaning he was travelling more often for work. The two of them would collaborate sometimes as well, with Feyre making artworks that got printed on custom fabric and made into the most stunning garments, often for her to wear if Rhys had his way. It wasn’t uncommon for one of them to find the other watching them work before they were all over one another. If there was one thing the two of them couldn’t ever get enough of, it was each other. They managed to make it work and live comfortably pursuing their dreams, and Feyre couldn’t think of another time she’d been so happy in her life.

But right now, it was New Year’s Eve, and the two of them had each been busy with their own respective business – Rhys had been trying to fulfil the higher demand from people wanting a stunning outfit over the holidays, while Feyre had been dealing with her own higher volume of orders for the giving season. Balancing time with their friends and family, each other, and working had been difficult and they’d definitely had to set some of it on the backburner to make sure they met all their commitments. Late nights, long days and bone-deep exhaustion that only that lazy week between Christmas and New Years could allow them to recover from. Both of them had been too tired to do much of anything besides sleep and binge Netflix together, but at least they were together.

Tonight, they had decided they should go and see their friends for a few drinks to help ring in the new year, the two of them having gone a little bit stir crazy after a while.

“We don’t have to stay out all night, right?” Feyre called from their bedroom, rifling through the closet in nothing but underwear and a bra to try and find a nice but comfortable outfit for the night.

“Not unless you want to, darling. But you know I’m never opposed to sneaking out of anything early with you.” Rhys’ tone was playful as he came up behind her, arms wrapping around her bare waist before pressing a kiss to the delicate spot between neck and shoulder.

She turned her head to press a kiss to his temple with a smile before focusing back on her task. “True, but we have to actually get out of the door to do that in the first place. Now go get ready!”

With a playful swat to his hip he let her go, hands in the air in mock defense before grabbing some clothes of his own and retreating to the bathroom. The cheeky, Cheshire Cat grin never left his face the whole time she could see him, and it always made her heart do a little flip, beating in double time. Everything about Rhys always made her feel like a kid with a schoolyard crush in the best way – like she was able to tangibly grab that lost time she hadn’t had with him in her hands and make it real.

Feyre carefully picked through the closet before settling on something that definitely leaned more on the casual side of things, but still made her look and feel good. She grabbed a tight-fitting white crop top, paired with her favourite black tennis skirt and thick, fleece-lined pantyhose to keep her warm despite the winter chill. Cute but comfy – exactly what she was after. There was also the added benefit of that it would drive Rhys a little bit insane, which she always took an immense amount of joy in.

As if he’d heard her thoughts like a moth to a flame, he came back into the room as she stood in front of their full-length mirror and pulled her top on. Rhys looked drop-dead gorgeous in a tight fitting henley shirt and dark blue jeans that outlined the quickly developing bulge in his jeans deliciously. She couldn’t help but smirk, fussing with the shirt and fiddling with the necklace around her neck – the same one he’d given her the night they had gotten together. She hadn’t stopped wearing it since.

There was a hunger in Rhys’ eyes as he leaned against the doorframe of their bedroom, biting his lip slightly as he folded his arms and raked his eyes over her.

“You almost ready to go, honey? I just need to grab my sneakers and a cardigan.” She looked at him over her shoulder, a twinkle in her eye as she schooled her face into the most innocent expression she could manage. She knew exactly what he was thinking when he looked at her like that.

“Mm, I’m not sure. I feel like I might have forgotten to do something before we go,” he said, crooking two fingers at her to beckon her closer, the silver rings he always wore gleaming against his skin. “Do you know what that could be, Feyre?”

Feyre took deliberately smaller steps than normal, drawing out the tension between them as she stalked closer and closer before she could slide her arms around his neck. “Mm, no idea what you could mean. What I do know is that if we don’t leave soon, we’re gonna be late to meet everyone else at Rita’s.”

He didn’t hesitate to grab her ass, roughly kneading the flesh there as Rhys tilted his head down to brush his lips over hers. “Let them fucking wait.”

Before Feyre could even try to pretend to put up a protest, he pressed his lips needily to hers, hands sliding down to the backs of her thighs to hoist her up effortlessly. Her back hit the wall, groaning into his mouth as she could feel his hips pressing relentlessly against her own as her legs wrapped round his waist. She couldn’t help but roll her hips to try and drive him even wilder, eliciting a delicious little moan from him that was music to her ears.

“You really thought we’d be able to leave the house on time? When you’re wearing that? Making yourself look all pretty just for me, hm?” Rhys’ lips and teeth made headway down the column of her neck, nibbling and biting and sucking to leave a trail of hickeys for everyone to see.

She hummed with satisfaction, a smile playing on her lips. “I thought I’d- ah- make at least a little effort since it’s N-New Years and all, what can I say?” A harsher nip to the crook of her neck made her gasp, a hand knotting itself firmly in his hair to press him closer as if there was any gap between them in the first place.

Rhys moved a hand from under her thigh to slip between their bodies, under her shirt, under her bra, to greedily palm at her breast and pull and tweak at her hardened peaks. He pulled his mouth away from her neck to lock his gaze with hers, an intensity in them that he reserved just for her. The eye contact with him always made everything feel so much… more and she lived for it.

“You can say my name as I make you take every inch of my cock,” Rhys grinded his hips against hers roughly to punctuate his sentence, rock hard against the searing-hot wet spot that was quickly soaking through her panties and beginning to show on the stockings she was wearing. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you Feyre? Being my little whore, taking everything I give you?”

She couldn’t do anything but whine, nodding dumbly as she tried to rut against him, attempting to develop more friction between their bodies. He smiled almost mischievously, gently placing Feyre onto her feet for barely a second before they were both scrambling – Feyre to yank her stockings and panties to the floor before tossing them aside, Rhys to be rid of his belt and undo his jeans. The moment he was finished, Rhys grabbed her hips with a bruising force that sent heat spearing through her centre. Feyre almost jumped back into his arms as he pushed her back into the same position they’d left off at. Her mind and body were practically putty in his hands, nothing but sticky, syrupy thoughts of the pleasure she knew full well he was capable of providing her running through her mind.

“You’re such a good fucking girl,” He muttered lowly, moving a hand lower and lower over her abdomen until his fingers began to drift teasingly through the folds of her pussy. “All soaking wet already.”

Her face was buried in the crook of Rhys’ neck, a desperate whimper leaving her as she bit down into his golden-brown skin with need. Her hips canted against his hand, fingers occasionally slipping inside her with exceptional ease before they drew right back out again. He was deliberately trying to drive her mad and it was working far too well. “Baby, please please fuck me already, pl-please, I need you- need you to fill me, unh- up so bad.”

The ministrations his hand provided stilled, Feyre’s head firmly falling back against the wall before she met his gaze. Rhys’ pupils were blown wide, his cock twitching at her words against her inner thigh. “Need me to fill you up, huh?”

Feyre nodded at him with a groan.

“Need to feel me come inside you? Fuck it into you nice and hard, like a little slut?”

She groaned lewdly at that, fingernails digging into the back of his neck. “Yes, baby, plea-ase.”

Without warning or ceremony, he lined himself up and quickly pushed inside her with no resistance, twin moans spilling from their mouths in delectable harmony. The hand that had been fisted around his cock quickly moved up to her neck, gripping lightly as the firm planes of Rhys’ body and his rough thrusts pinned her harder up against the wall over and over. The lock her legs had around his waist loosened, one of them pushed right back up with his free hand to hit as deep as he could, her feet bobbing up and down with every snap and roll of their hips into one another.

Feyre caught a glimpse of the two of them in the full length mirror she’d been preening in on the other side of the room a little while ago and oh god, the sight made a moan warble from her throat helplessly.

“Gonna fuck you so full, Feyre,” A whiny little ‘uh huh’ escaped her with every sentence, every ounce of filth he slurred into her ears. “Gonna make sure my darling is filled to the fucking brim, god, you were made for me.”

Feyre’s mind just got more and more hazy as she felt her climax build with each roll of her hips, every stroke of Rhys’ cock inside her pressing against that one spot that made her lose any sense she had. She could hear him babbling about so perfect and babygirl and would look so good with my baby inside you one day – it made it near impossible for her to form words or sentences even if she tried.

“C-Come, Rhys, I’m gonna c-“ Feyre didn’t even get to finish her sentence before she was letting the most depraved, guttural sound she’d ever heard loose from her throat as her walls tightened like a vice around Rhys’ cock. He kept fucking her right through, the sensation so intense that a stray few tears fell from her eyes as she focused solely on the complete ecstasy enveloping her. She was distantly aware of Rhys coming apart not long after her, making good on his promise to fill her well – sweat slicked his forehead, his gaze solely locked onto where their bodies joined and the slight hints of his spend she could feel leaking out of her around him.

After a few moments spent in the haze of each other’s warmth and embrace, peppered with kisses and sweet words mumbled in each other’s ears, Rhys pulled out – though not before gathering up what mess had dripped out of her cunt and indulging in a few extra moments inside her to fuck it right back in with a low moan. He slowly lowered her onto her feet, her legs trembling like baby fawn, barely keeping her up with the most satisfied look on her face. She looked down just as Rhys got to his knees, grabbing her soaked panties from the floor where they’d been hastily discarded and gently starting to coax them back onto her feet and up her legs. The span of his hands over her legs was comforting, the caring and delicate touches slowly bringing her back to reality as he helped her back into her stockings.

“We have to hurry Feyre darling; we’re going to be awfully late.” Rhys quipped as he stood up in front of her. She simply rolled her eyes with a laugh, lightly swatting his chest.

“As if you’ve started caring about that now.” Feyre fiddled with his hair, trying to form it back into something presentable as he tucked himself back into his jeans and made himself presentable once more – though not without a visible bite mark on him to match her own.

“What kind of partner would I be if I left my beautiful girl all empty and needy? Sometimes sacrifices have to be made for the greater good, you know.” He pressed a kiss to her temple, stroking her hair gently before stepping away to grab his phone. “Go do what you need to feel ready – I’ll call the Uber.”

She could feel her cheeks warm a little, but she was grateful for the extra time – she knew that the minute the two of them walked into Rita’s everybody would know why they were late. It wasn’t exactly the first time this had happened. But she at least wanted to look a little less messy – that was something she saved just for Rhys, and that was exactly the way the two of them liked it.

Before long she’d fixed her hair, slipped on her shoes and her thick black cardigan and walked with Rhys into the crisp night air.

It was already a little past eight-thirty when the two of them arrived, their circle of friends spotting them the minute they rolled through the door. Cassian had his brows arched dramatically sitting at the end of the booth, staring at Rhys as he tapped at an imaginary watch on his wrist. Azriel simply shook his head thoroughly with a smirk, while Mor looked far too satisfied for her own good at the whole affair. Nesta, Gwyn and Emerie couldn’t care less as they were thoroughly engrossed in trying to rope Amren into their book club. The attempt didn’t seem to be working.

“Wooow guys, over half an hour late? Shame on you two for making all of us wait! You’re lucky we haven’t ordered food yet.” Cassian’s tone was exaggerated and playful, Feyre simply grinning at his antics as she and Rhys slid in next to him the booth they had all piled into.

“They say patience is a virtue, Cass. You could learn a thing or two! We’re just trying to impart good values.” Feyre retorted, trying and failing miserably to keep a serious look on her face at him.

His façade broke after that, Cassian slinging an arm over Feyre’s shoulder to pull her into a tight hug with a wide smile and a laugh.

“So, what kept you two sooo busy, hmm? Important business I imagine?” Mor drawled, finger twirling around the rim of her cocktail with a ruby red grin on her face. She knew full well what kept them waiting, but everybody knew she loved getting a rise out of her friends.

Rhys didn’t hesitate, more than eager to rib back. “Well, if you must know, I was busy fuc-“

A crumpled-up ball of napkins hit Rhys square in the face as Nesta levelled a glare at him across the table, iciness in her eyes. “I’m glad my baby sister is happy, but I swear to fucking god, I do not want to hear about what you two get up to behind closed doors.”

Rhys responded with a jokingly smug ‘suit yourself,’ before he turned his attentions back to Feyre and the others at the table, everybody ordering enough food and drinks to feed what felt like an army – most of it almost certainly being consumed by Azriel and Cassian. Before long, they’d all worked up a pleasant enough buzz and Mor had dragged Emerie onto the dancefloor despite her many protests. This, of course, led to a chain reaction – Emerie begged for Gwyn to help, which led to Gwyn recruiting Nesta, which meant Feyre got dragged up too because no way was she going to be caught dead on a club dancefloor without as many people she could rope in as possible.

Normally Rhys and Cassian would opt to join them, Azriel having always preferred watching from the sidelines and wading into things at his own pace and Amren never forced into anything she didn’t explicitly want to do, but tonight they were suspiciously glued to the table in hearty but hushed discussion that Feyre could barely make out over the music. She didn’t pay it too much mind – it was likely about Cassian and Nesta’s wedding since it was just in a few months’ time, or how they were going to rope their respective partners into some harebrained idea that they’d cooked up together. Ultimately, whatever it was, she knew it wasn’t something to worry about and just focused on having a good time feeling the music in her bones and the alcohol in her body.

The time flew by as the clock ticked a bit past ten-thirty, Feyre sat squarely in Rhys’ lap and felt the exertion of the day catching up with her. As much as Rhys tried to look like he wasn’t feeling the tiredness seep into his bones, she could see it in the sag of his shoulders and the slight droop of his eyelids – it was time to call it a night. Before long they’d said their goodbyes, kisses on cheeks and all too-tight hugs from everybody who’d come.

“Can’t believe you’re not staying out ‘til the New Year rolls in. I think you might be getting old, sport.” Amren punched Rhys in the arm with a laugh, having always been a party animal when she felt like it – she was usually going one-for-one right by Rhys’ side through each and every drink.

“Am, you’re literally the oldest one here, are you sure your bones aren’t turning into dust?”

With a hearty laugh and an eye roll so fierce they could practically hear it, Rhys and Feyre headed home. As much as she loved the company of everybody, she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t excited to jump into her pyjamas and get comfy for the night. She stepped out of the Uber and back into their apartment building with a long yawn.

“Ready to wind down for the night, love?” Rhys stood behind her, arms wrapped around her waist to hold her close against him on the elevator ride up.

“Mmhm. Sometimes I forget how tired I am until it hits me all at once, y’know?” Her head rested gently against his neck, his chin resting in her hair. She always loved when he held her close like this – no matter where they were, it felt like safety. Like home.

The elevator dinged softly as it got to their floor, Rhys being ever the gentleman and insisting on unlocking the door and ushering her through into their apartment before him. Feyre did a little curtsey with her tennis skirt, possibly hiking the hem a little higher than she needed to. But that was neither here nor there.

“Why thank you, Mr. Sterling! And they say chivalry is dead.”

He chuckled lowly with a small bow at the waist toward her. “The pleasure is all mine, Miss St- I mean, Miss Archeron.” A flush crawled up his neck and onto his cheeks, only matched by the way her own face was almost equally as pink in turn. It wasn’t the first time he’d almost called her ‘Miss Sterling’, but it made her tummy do flips and tie into knots more and more every time. It had a certain ring to it that she more than appreciated.   

Ever the one to commit to the bit, Rhys delicately took her hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles as he met her gaze. Instead of letting her hand drop however, he used it to pull her in close and kiss her softly. “Go hop in the shower, darling. I’ll get a movie and some snacks set up for us, perhaps?”

A dreamy little sigh escaped her as she looked up at him, face as soft and kind as it had always been to her.

Her Rhys.

“You’re too sweet to me, you know.”

“Not sweet enough, if you ask me. Now get.” He gave Feyre’s backside a light swat to send her on her way, making her burst into a fit of giggles as she set out toward the bathroom.

She made sure to pick out her comfiest set of pyjamas and the fluffiest socks she owned, letting the water help ease the aches and weariness across her body. Especially her hips, but she didn’t really have any wiggle room to complain about that one. Feyre put her hair into a simple braid over her shoulder, softly padding out into the living room again as she wrapped a hair tie around the end of it, but she almost forgot what she was doing when she saw what had been set up in her absence.

It felt just like when they were kids.

Their couch, one of those fold-out futons for when there were one too many guests, had been pulled out and stacked with pillows and blankets galore, including the ones from their own bed. It almost looked like an impenetrable nest from where she was standing. The room was lit by only the glow of the widescreen TV and a few warm lamps throughout, with Howl’s Moving Castle already on the screen and paused for the two of them to begin at their leisure. In the middle of it all was Rhys, in his own pyjamas instead of just an old t-shirt for once, with two bowls nestled in his lap and both of their Steam Decks right next to him.

Exactly like when they were kids, but for who they were now.

The thought made Feyre’s heart beat in double-time – she’d never quite known what she did to deserve someone like Rhys, but she wasn’t going to start questioning it now. She climbed into the bed of blankets, making herself comfy as she struggled to wipe the incredulous look off her face. “What’s the occasion?”

“Just because we’re having a quieter New Year’s doesn’t mean we can’t still have a luxurious one. Besides, we’ve both been so tired lately – I figured we deserved a bit of a treat.” He held out a bowl to her, spoon sticking out of a thick bed of choc-mint ice cream. As she took it he scooted a bit closer, sides pressed together as he clicked ‘play’ on the movie and began to eat his own bowl of ice cream – boysenberry.

Some things truly never changed.

Feyre tried to press a firm kiss to his cheek, but he was quicker and turned his head to catch her lips with his own briefly. She simply smiled against his mouth before turning her attention to her own bowl, and not long after they’d both finished, to finding the most comfortable position for them both to play their games together. Eventually they settled on sitting up right next to one another, Feyre’s legs draped over the top of Rhys’ as they snuggled up under god-knows how many blankets.

As the TV was busy with Sophie Hatter’s journey up the palace steps to see the King’s witch, Rhys and Feyre were busy trying to water all their crops and save up for a better barn for their farm in Stardew Valley. Feyre had insisted that all their farm animals be named after foods, while Rhys had been much more hung up on making sure their crops were optimised for the maximum profit during the season. Maybe it was because he was a detail-oriented guy, maybe it was because Feyre kept spending all of their gold on decorating the farmhouse – who was to say? Either way, it was one of their favourite games to play together and tonight was no different. But they were in the middle of the Autumn season on a stormy day, when Feyre could feel Rhys’ gaze flicking between her and the game.

“Honey, you keep looking up at me and running into walls – everything okay over there?” She paused her game, setting her Steam Deck aside before doing the same with Rhys’.

“Yeah, I’m alright, I’m just – I got reminded of something, actually.”

“That’s awfully cryptic of you, haha.” She lifted a hand to brush his hair from his face, a few stray locks having fallen into his eyes, before resting her hand on his cheek. He leaned into her touch, eyes closing for a moment with a contented hum.

“Well, it’s something that I wanted to ask you before the new year and I have…” He grabbed his phone briefly, glancing at the time on the lockscreen. “…About eight-ish minutes left.”

“You sound pretty serious.”

“It is, heh, but probably not how you’re thinking. Close your eyes for a second.”

She did exactly as he asked, hands over her eyes, though Feyre was more than a bit puzzled. She knew by the furrow of her brow and the nervous laugh Rhys gave that she wasn’t on the same page as him quite yet and he knew it. The rustling of blankets and the shifting of Rhys beside her only added to the mystery.

“Okay, you can open them now.”

Feyre pulled her hands away from her face, a little confused as to what was different – she was looking straight out at the TV, unable to spot anything out of the ordinary, but she could feel Rhys’ stare locked onto her. Then he gently placed his hand on her leg over the thick down blanket, bringing her gaze down with it.

Right down to a pitch black, little velvet box.

Her hands shook a little bit as she reached out for it, looking between the box and Rhys over and over. Was this a fever dream? Was she imagining all of this? This felt far too good to be true.

But the feel of the smooth velvet in her fingertips assured her it was, as did the glittering ring it held inside. A deep purple amethyst, so deep it looked nearly black, sat in the middle of a delicately adorned silver band. It was shaped like a four-pointed star, with two smaller circular amethysts nestled on each side. A few other gems lay between and around them – knowing Rhys, they probably wouldn’t be anything less than diamonds – twinkling between them like the stars in the night sky.

It suited her perfectly. Suited Rhys’ tastes, as well. As soon as she saw it, she knew he’d probably been hiding it for what would have felt like forever to him. Knew that it was almost certainly what they were talking about at the bar.

“Is this for real?” Her eyes were wide as she looked up at Rhys, a few tears escaping against her will. He simply wiped them away with his thumb before tucking his fingers under her chin, making sure she couldn’t look away from him.

“Feyre, I can’t tell you for just how long I’ve wanted to call you my wife.”

“Well, at least the past few months since you keep almost calling me Miss Sterling.” The two of them laughed together for a moment, Rhys nodding slightly at her.

“You’ve got me there. But I mean it with every beat of my heart when I ask you…”

Rhys took the ring from the box with the hand that had been under her chin, the other coming to hold her left hand with a squeeze.

“Feyre Archeron, will you marry m-“

She kissed him with so much intensity, cutting off the end of the question, that she wasn’t sure she could ever quite express just how much she loved him – both in this moment and every other.

“Rhysand Sterling, I will marry the shit out of you.” She said against his lips, matching smiles spread across their faces.

Feyre pulled away for a second, letting Rhys slide the ring onto her finger before she climbed her way into his lap and kissed him again. He wrapped his arms around her waist and held her close as he kissed her right back with just as much fervour as she gave him.

It wasn’t lost on Feyre just how lucky she was, and it certainly wasn’t lost on the rest of the apartment complex either with how loud they were that night.

No matter what life had thrown at them or would present them with in the future, they both knew a universal cosmic truth – one they’d known for as long as they could remember. Every time, every world, every situation, it was going to be Rhys and Feyre together against the world.

Always.

the end.

[roachliquid]

The Symbolism of Fingers: A Brief* Look at Morality in Fallout

*For given values of brief.

Fallout (the TV series) is, without a doubt, an incredibly nuanced study of morality and ethics. Platforming off the karma system from Fallout 3 and New Vegas, it does everything in its power to deconstruct the idea that there's such as a thing as a "purely good" or "purely bad" person, and especially addresses the notion that morality is clear-cut and doing the right thing is always easy.

Nowhere is this more emphasized than in its main trio: Lucy, the shining beacon of Good Karma, Maximus, whose Neutrality expresses as a struggle between his desires to do the right thing and his completely understandable urges to be petty and vindictive, and The Ghoul, who probably has a Karma score of -2000 by the time he's officially introduced.

Obviously, the system this is based on is a horrendously butchered view of karma to begin with, but that's not really what the show is concerned with. Instead, its focus is on how its characters navigate the difference between how they - and others - perceive morality, and the actual difficulty of making sound, compassionate decisions in a world of immense complexity.

One of the ways this conflict is shown, and the focus of this post, is during the time when the Ghoul has Lucy as his hostage. Having such radically different approaches to the world around them, they truly seem like the paragons of good and evil - Lucy has the best of intentions and constantly advocates kindness, while Cooper acts like an utter bastard regardless of the circumstances at hand. And to an extent this is true! Lucy, while has many flaws and doesn't always do the right thing, is genuinely a kind, caring person. And Cooper genuinely does horrific shit when he damn well knows he has other options.

But then these characters meet a nearly-feral ghoul, and suddenly the rules change.

Lucy, of course, is horrified when Cooper puts the man down. As is completely understandable - she did not understand the circumstances behind his actions. Her view of morality up to this point has been that if it looks cruel, it must be cruel - and the same is true for kindness. It's the product of her being raised in a fascist pseudo-utopia where one of the highest virtues is to be sweet and positive of all times.

(There's a post to be made about that, and how the character of Betty in particular embodies this duality, but this is about fingers.)

It's partly because of this event - as well as the constant stress and anger that builds as the Ghoul tries to break her endless optimism - that causes Lucy to finally, momentarily lose control. At first she simply tries to run, but when that effort fails and Cooper corners and catches her, she acts in pure desperation and bites off one of his index fingers.

Cooper, of course, takes this as a victory - a sign that he's begun to break through her insipid worldview and start her down the road to adopting his brand of cynical hyperpragmatism. He also - likely in part because he's a spiteful bastard - cuts off her finger and hangs onto it so he can sew it onto his own hand later.

But shortly before that point, Lucy has a misadventure of her own - in which her original finger is replaced with one that looks like it came straight from a corpse, and she learns for the first time that things aren't always what they appear. This comes in the form of an especially brutal lesson, when what she sees as an act of kindness blows up in her face and instead causes preventable deaths.

She also, crucially, learns that what she thought was a senseless act of cruelty - Cooper killing a ghoul on the verge of going feral - was actually a rare act of true compassion. That he did the only thing he could have done, both to minimize the man's suffering and prevent him from harming anyone else. She realizes, for the first time, that her view of their differences is not entirely accurate: she is not perfectly good, and he is not perfectly evil.

This discovery is marked at both ends by a gunshot - Cooper's mercy-kill, and Lucy's desperate first use of a real gun when she is forced to kill Martha to save herself. This is significant not just because the events parallel one another, but because of what happens surrounding this event - when Lucy and the Ghoul, partly literally and partly symbolically, exchange their trigger fingers.

This serves to bridge the two in multiple ways. First, it symbolizes a kind of yin-and-yang balance - each of them has a small amount of what makes the other tick. And second, it serves as a physical reminder of their recent actions; Cooper the Evil has brought real, tangible good to the world, and Lucy the Good has in turn brought tangible harm.

Either way, the message is clear: Pure good and pure evil don't really exist, in philosophies or in people. Not just because life is complicated, but because people are complicated, and no one's philosophy, however firmly they maintain it, holds up 100% of the time. Not necessarily because the worldview is flawed - though in this case, both definitely are - but also, crucially, because no one is an infallible moral actor. Our actions are driven by feelings and judgment, and no matter what standards we hold ourselves to, there will be times when one or both of those things leads us in a different direction than what we had planned.

[goldenbuckyyy]

MATILDA

Summary: During the holiday season, Harry helps you realize that it’s okay to build your own family.

Pairings: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Word count: 3.5kish

Warnings: Mentions of past childhood neglect, slight smut mentioned, angst, crying, anything else?? Let me know!!

A/N: hi!!! Merry Christmas to all of you!! I wanted to post this earlier today, but ended up spending the holidays with my family! I got this request by someone anonymous and I loved the idea!! Hopefully you all do as well. Inspired by: “Matilda” by Harry Styles.

All mistakes are my own. Please do not repost or translate my fics on any other site nor this one.

I appreciate any likes, reblogs, messages, and interactions.

Masterlist

Today is the day before your birthday. 

It’s Christmas Eve. 

And you are not a fan of the holidays. 

You didn’t particularly enjoy any of them. 

Mostly because you’ve never had a chance to ever actually celebrate them. 

You’ve never had an Easter egg hunt on Easter Sunday. You’ve never popped loud fireworks on the 4th of July. You’ve never had a warm turkey dinner on Thanksgiving. You’ve never even decorated a Christmas Tree for Christmas holidays. 

You’ve never even had Christmas presents waiting for you under the tree on Christmas Morning. 

It doesn’t help the fact that your birthday is on Christmas Day. 

Every memory you had of a holiday was tainted with the background noise of your parents fighting and you crying yourself to sleep. 

One of your earliest memories was when you were eight and your godmother, Eva, gifted you a brand new pretty pink bicycle. You loved that bike from the moment you saw it. You remember the way your heart felt so full at that age and the overpowering feeling of excitement overcame you. 

You learned how to ride it with her cheering you on for your birthday, you remember laughing so loud in happiness that your belly hurt, and when you yelled for your mom to watch you… she was reading the newspaper and waved you away with her hand as she said “It’s no big deal.” 

You remember the instant dread you felt in the pit of your belly, the way your happiness was instantly stripped away from you, the way tears immediately filled your eyes which caused your vision to haze, your hands to shake, and it made you lose control of your brand new pretty bike. 

Then, you fell. You scraped your knees which turned into a bloody mess, bruising all your legs and arms, and you spent the entire time crying. Only Eva helped you. You remember hearing her scold your mother, but she didn’t care. 

The tainted memory stayed with you forever. The scar on your knees proves it. 

You never rode that bike again. 

After that, you only focused on school. You remember only focusing on your grades and your after school activities. You wanted to get the highest grades and the highest praises so you could go to the best college. You wanted to do whatever you could do to get away from your family. 

You wanted to get out of this small town in this forgettable state and move far far away from here. You didn’t care about how you did it. You just had to do it. 

Turns out.. you had a hidden talent for singing and songwriting. One hit song when you were seventeen right after graduation ended up landing you the record deal of the year. You had gotten lucky and you felt grateful every day since. 

That song and album won you three Grammys in your very first year in the spotlight. It felt overwhelming. 

Suddenly, you were being pulled in different directions. You had millions of fans. You performed sold out shows in the biggest arenas in the United States and all abroad. You were living the life you had never thought you would have ever wanted. But it made you happy. 

You were the happiest you had been in years. In your whole life, maybe. 

And you never went back home. Especially for your birthday. You didn’t enjoy celebrating it because everything about Christmas time reminded you of your horrible childhood. 

So.. yeah. You weren’t a fan of the holidays. 

And it didn’t help that your wonderful, loving, teddy bear of a boyfriend loved them. He absolutely loved Christmas time. 

He was the type to hire decorators to decorate the outside of the house and then to come inside and go the full nine yards in here, too. 

You admit.. it made you happy seeing him happy. It made your heart tug a little bit and all you wanted was for him to be happy. But this year, you were both going to celebrate in your shared New York City penthouse. 

Harry said Anne and Gemma were aching to spend the holidays up here. 

You had somehow managed to get out of the Christmas holidays the past three years. Always scheduling something so you wouldn’t be home, but Harry begged you to not plan anything this year. That he wanted to celebrate with you and finally be together for your birthday, here at home. With him. You love him and you know how much this means to him.  You want to make him happy, so you agreed. He’s your entire world. 

Harry came into your life like a bulldozer. Fast, unexpectedly, and it was life changing. He had reached out to you back in 2018 during the holiday season. 

You remember seeing “Harry Styles just sent you a Direct Message” on your notification and you about had a heart attack. Of course you knew who freaking Harry Styles was. You had basically grown up with One Direction, but with you focusing on school.. you didn’t really have time to obsess over them. But you did know them and occasionally listened to their music. 

So yeah, you knew who Harry Styles was. Young, devilishly handsome, and surprisingly single. And he was messaging you. Gushing about how much he loved your music and admired the way you carried yourself in your interviews. You had just released your second album at the age of twenty one and were about to start touring for it. He was already touring for his first solo album. (Which you loved) 

He wanted to come to one of your shows. You gave him a seat in the family and friends section and a backstage pass. 

You had been messaging back and forth since his first message a couple months back. You had spent all of your free time texting him and if your timing aligned with his time.. then you’d talk for hours on the phone. 

 It felt almost like you knew him. The connection that you felt with Harry was something you had never experienced before. And it felt crazy to you. This was all new to you and it was exciting. And a little scary. 

And finally, he was able to get away from his own tour to come see you. 

And he met you backstage after your show and immediately pulled you into his arms, praised you with his words, and the way you felt in his arms made you cry. 

It was overwhelming and pretty embarrassing. It felt safe. Harry’s embrace made you feel safe. And you don’t even remember the last time you had ever felt that way. If you had ever even felt that way before that moment. 

When Harry noticed, he immediately ordered everybody in the room to get out and the look on his face… he looked so worried. So sincere. So honest. 

It made you incredibly emotional and you profusely apologized for ruining his shirt with your tears. And he said he didn’t care about his shirt. 

That he cared about you. 

And ever since the day you met him, that’s the one main thing Harry has always made sure you feel. That you feel safe. 

It did take some time for you to open up to Harry about your childhood, but when you did.. you felt grateful. It felt good to finally talk to someone other than your therapist about everything you had gone through. He had always wondered why you never talked about your family or why he hadn’t met anyone other than Eva in the year of you guys dating. And when he finally knew, he held you and didn’t let you go for hours. 

Harry felt like home. 

Now it was the day before Christmas Eve 2021.  You and Harry were cuddling on the comfy gray couch in the living room that overlooked the NYC skyline and the Christmas tree that you had both decorated together at the beginning of December was glimmering in the darkness. All the awaiting presents under it make you smile.

Anne and Gemma had already settled into bed for the night. They stated they needed some more sleep to adjust to the time difference and you couldn’t agree more. You and Harry had decided to stay up a little longer. 

You cuddled into Harry’s chest as he held you while a Christmas movie played for you guys. You guys are watching ‘Elf’ and you admit it’s a good Christmas movie. No wonder it’s one of Harry’s favorites. 

Harry feels extremely warm underneath you and it makes you want to stay here forever. 

He’s rubbing your scalp gently with the tips of his fingers and your hand is underneath his sweater. Gently rubbing your own fingers on his almost non existent little belly. 

But his body always held into a tiny little pouch under his belly button and you secretly loved it. You played with the happy trail there and ran your fingers over his abs slowly as well. 

The atmosphere around you feels peaceful. It feels entirely calm and it’s a feeling that sinks deep into your bones. 

You just weren’t used to this over the holidays and it felt almost weird to allow yourself to enjoy this. 

Suddenly, Harry gets a slight hold of your chin and tilts your head up to meet his lips. His kiss surprises you, but you melt into him. He kisses you softly and lets his tongue slip into your mouth slightly. You smile into the kiss and hum in content when he pulls away from you. 

Meeting his eyes, “What was that for?” You whisper as you wipe his bottom lip with your thumb. 

His eyes twinkle with happiness and his arms wrap around you tightly, pulling you to sit on his lap completely, and he smiles so sweetly. 

You let your hair fall over your shoulders as you look down at him. He’s so handsome. 

“Happy birthday, my sun.” 

You intertwine your hands in his own, glancing at the clock next to you that shows it’s exactly midnight, and you smile sheepishly at Harry. You lean down and kiss him again. 

“Thank you, honey.” 

“Let’s go to bed,” Harry says with a teasing smile as he holds onto your waist with one arm, shuts off the tv with his free hand, and easily lifts you up into the air. 

“H!” You shriek with a giggle as you koala hug him to not fall down. He laughs lowly, “I’ll never drop you, sun.” 

You both giggle until you fall into the mattress in your room, locking the door in a rush, but then Harry takes his time taking you apart and letting you come undone. 

Helping you fall apart with his fingers, his tongue, and then with his cock. 

And when he has to clamp his hand over your mouth tightly to keep you from screaming out during your orgasm, he’ll do that all night long just to make you happy. 

••• 

You wake up the next morning, slowly, and to the wonderful smell of bacon in the air. 

You inhale the scent with a small smile as you stretch your limbs awake. You sit down on your bed, pulling the white comforter over your naked torso, and looking around for Harry. The floor to ceiling windows are cloudy with the Christmas chill, but it sends a wave of comfort throughout the room. 

And it’s as if he knew you were searching for him. 

Because he walks into the bedroom with a bed tray stacked with food. 

You instantly perk up with a smile, “Hi.” 

Harry leans down and kisses you, “Hi. Happy birthday, my sun.” 

You giggle and shush him. “You already wished me a happy birthday.” 

“I’m going to keep wishing my wonderful girlfriend a happy birthday all day long,” he says teasingly with a smirk as he sets down the tray in front of you. 

You adjust yourself in the bed and admire the yummy food in front of you. “Did you do all of this for me?” 

Your heart fills with warm love and your cheeks flush. 

“Mom did. She made all of your favorites.” 

Now his cheeks are flushing bright pink and you’re instantly overcome with a sense of love. 

“She made all of this for me?” You ask in shock as you look at the chocolate chip pancakes, sunny side up eyes, fresh fruit, and amazing smelling bacon. 

“Of course, sun. She loves you,” he says with a kiss to your forehead. 

“Shouldn’t we go eat with them in the dining room?” 

“Nah. You love eating in bed and today’s all about you,” he says as he starts cutting up your pancakes. 

“But—“ 

“No buts.” 

You shut your mouth with a smile as he feeds you the pancakes and takes some for himself with a teasing grin.

“We’re only doing what you love today. That’s all.”  

And that’s how the rest of the day goes with Harry pampering you and only letting you do something if you truly want to do it. 

You felt so lucky. 

Now it’s the afternoon, you’re all gathered in the living room after eating a yummy and fulfilling dinner in your matching Christmas pajamas. Harry bought them for all of you guys and they’re grinch themed. You have to admit that seeing Harry so giddy and excited filled your heart with so much warmth and love. You truly felt so happy today. 

You all had already exchanged gifts with each other. You two had gotten Anne and Gemma a full paid trip to Paris for a little winding down when you and Harry were going to go next summer. And you had framed two of your favorite pictures of the four of you together and gifted them each one. They loved it. 

Anne had gifted you and Harry two homemade sweaters that she had knitted herself and it meant so much to you. Way more than any other money made gift. 

Gemma gifted you a homemade shirt that she had stitched a quote for your favorite show and she had made Harry a matching one as well. 

It was something cheesy, “you’re my lobster” and Harry immediately loved it. You did as well. 

You have to admit that this felt insanely weird. You and Harry always exchanged gifts, but it was never in this type of setting. With his mom and sister. 

It felt so intimate and loving. 

So intimidating that it felt scary, but this was something that you didn’t know you needed. 

“I wrote something for you,” Harry states as he gets the guitar from Gemma. It’s one of his favorites. It’s the one that was gifted to him from a friend. It’s the one with the starry design. 

“You wrote me a song?” You ask with a grin as you grip onto your hot chocolate while you adjust yourself on the couch cushion. 

“Another one?” Gemma says jokingly and Anne sushes her with a jab. 

You see Harry’s cheeks blush faintly as he sits down on a small stool he pulled out from the pantry. 

He slowly starts to make sure his cords are in key and he lets out a shaky breathe. He looks up to meet your eyes. 

“This song… is for you. Completely and utterly for you. I hope you like it, my sun.” 

There’s so much honesty in his eyes that it makes you feel completely warm and full inside. 

He slowly starts to strum his guitar. 

You were riding your bike to the sound of "It's No Big Deal"

A small gasp leaves your lips as your fingers grip into the mug. Instant tears fill your eyes as you hear the first sentence of your song. 

And you're trying to lift off the ground on those old two wheels

Harry gives you a small smile as you stare at him with a wavering expression. 

Nothing about the way that you were treated ever seemed especially alarming 'til now

Your bottom lip is quivering. 

So you tie up your hair and you smile like it's no big deal

You can feel your water line filled with tears and you slowly set your mug down on the side table. You watch Harry intently. 

You can let it go

You can throw a party full of everyone you know

And not invite your family, 'cause they never showed you love

You don't have to be sorry for leaving and growing up, mmh

You shut your eyes for a second, allowing his words fill your body, tears slowly start falling down your cheeks, and you allow yourself to feel the emotions. Allowing yourself to finally feel the emotions you’ve been keeping pilled down deep. 

You feel someone sit by you and grip your hand in theirs. You open your eyes to see Anne next to you, smiling so sweetly at you, and hold your hand tightly in her own. Her own tears filling her eyes as she holds you. Her love these past years have shown you what your own mother couldn’t.  

A mothers love. 

Matilda, you talk of the pain like it's all alright

But I know that you feel like a piece of you's dead inside

Harry gives you a small smile as his own tears fill his eyes. The childhood movie you loved to watch fills your mind as it used to help you escape. You frown at the memories and grip onto Anne’s hand harder.  

You showed me a power that is strong enough to bring sun to the darkest days

It's none of my business, but it's just been on my mind

You can let it go

You can throw a party full of everyone you know

And not invite your family, 'cause they never showed you love

You don't have to be sorry for leaving and growing up

Images of the last years rush through your mind. Everything you’ve managed to accomplish. 

You can see the world, following the seasons

Anywhere you go, you don't need a reason

'Cause they never showed you love

You don't have to be sorry for doing it on your own

Harry lets his guitar rest on the space next to him on the floor and he reaches for your hand. You grip onto his hand with your free one and he continues to sing. His beautiful angelic voice filled the entire room. His raw voice fills your ears like heaven. 

You're just in time, make your tea and your toast

His voice cracks and slow tears fall down his cheeks. 

You framed all your posters and dyed your clothes, ooh

You don't have to go

You don't have to go home

Oh, there's a long way to go

Gemma walks out of the room and into the kitchen. 

I don't believe that time will change your mind

In other words

I know they won't hurt you anymore as long as you can let them go

You can let it go

Harry kisses each one of your knuckles and holds your hand against his cheek, his smile wavering as he continues to sing. 

You can throw a party full of everyone you know

You can start a family who will always show you love

You don't have to be sorry for doing it on your own

You can let it go

You see Gemma walking into the room with a beautiful baby pink cake with colorful sprinkles all over the top and matching long candles that are glowing in the dark night. You cry even harder. 

You can throw a party full of everyone you know

You can start a family who will always show you love

You don't have to be sorry, no

Tears filled your eyes as you looked around the room. A wavering smile on your lips as you watched everyone in front of you wearing a giant smile and matching tears. 

And just for a second… it was quiet. 

There wasn’t any loud voices behind you yelling at each other. There weren’t any doors being slammed shut nor glasses being thrown to the floor or the walls. 

All you could hear was the wood crackling in the fireplace, the soft sound of the Christmas music playing on the record player, the small sniffs of the people around you trying to hold in their tears as you let your own fall freely, and you could hear your own heart silently patching itself back together. 

You sniffle as you watch Harry reach for the cake and he proceeds to move the cake at your eye level. 

His beautiful green eyes rimmed red, nose tinted pink, and he’s smiling at you. 

“Make a wish, my love.” 

Anne’s hand lets go of your own and she instead starts rubbing your back in comfort. You wrap your own hands delicately around Harry's wrists as you let the candle's warmth coat your face so lightly. 

“You’ve already made all of them come true,” you whisper as you slowly blow out the candles. 

Your only wish is to only ever feel this way for the next holidays. 

[jamlessjj]

Hey team (I say as I make prolonged eye contact with my U2 mutuals) so while I was on a road trip a few weeks ago I chanced upon a record store that had an absolute treasure trove of old magazines and managed to find these gems. Would you all like me to post some scans of the articles and/or covers? Here is a list of what's pictured. If any of these strike your fancy, lemme know:

U2's Propaganda, Issue 15, Winter 1991/2: A special edition that focuses on the release and making of Achtung Baby. Its contents are very campy design-wise with a cool arts and crafts type of vibe. Lots of photos from the late 80s and early 90s, at least half of which I hadn't seen before. Contents include an Achtung Baby scrapbook, an article detailing the making of "The Fly" music video, and an article about the process behind designing the Achtung Baby album cover.

U2's Propaganda, Issue 16, Spring 1992: A pretty text-heavy issue with a well-rounded bunch of articles in terms of topics. The entire first half of the issue is dedicated to coverage of preparation for the Zoo TV tour, focuses on the band as well as artists and others involved in various aspects of the tour. This article's look is giving "graphic design is my passion" in the best way possible. There's also an interview with Brain Eno, an article on the spoof tribute band "The Joshua Trio," and a report on the Negativland thing that happened.

U2's Propaganda, Issue 17, Winter 1992/3: Its cover story, "Sixty Nine Things You May Not Have Known About Life in the Zoo," is a rapid-fire and visually immersive list of happenings from the Zoo TV tour. Big photos of the band and the staging, including some of Bono in the foregone but never forgotten red version of The Fly costume. This issue also focuses on fan content, with a mailbag section and some stuff about various fanzines.

Rolling Stone, Issue 761, May 29, 1997: Pop-era U2 on the cover, looking extra cool. The article is titled "The Wizards of Pop." I haven't read all the way through this article, but this is the premise we're given: "Who are those men behind the curtain? It's Bono! The Edge! Adam Clayton! Larry Mullen Jr.! On the eve of their supergiant '97 world tour, U2 reveal the heart inside their consumer-nightmare machine." A couple of neat photos, too.

Rolling Stone, Issue 986, November 3, 2005: Bono on the cover, and a suuuuuper long interview with him, like, including photos, this thing is about 16 pages long with a teeny tiny font size. I've only skimmed the text but the whole thing seems to have a relatively down-to-earth vibe, which the photographs compliment well. Pretty biographical, based on what I've seen it vaguely reminds me of Bono's Surrender. Found this quote while skimming and I like it a lot: "I've always had these melodies in my head. If I'm beside a piano, I put my finger on a key. I hear a rhyme."

Rolling Stone, Issue 1074, March 19, 2009: U2 on the cover, shot in a way that seems to call back to their cover on the aforementioned 1997 issue. Published around the release of No Line on the Horizon, this is definitely more of a journalism piece as far as I can tell, rather than an interview piece. I like how this article is laid out visually. Focuses on the process of creating and recording NLOTH, and includes some photos of the band working on the album. Also, eyeliner Bono. Dude absolutely dominates one of the pages.

Spin, Volume 4 Number 10, January 1989: A brooding and melancholic Bono on the cover. I enjoy the cover's visual and emotional drama, and its mythical quality definitely goes hand in hand with the corresponding article. After getting past three ads for a multitude of cigarette brands, including one with a pop-up fish holding up a supposedly irresistible offer for a pack of Salems, you'll find an article titled, "Hating U2," with the premise, "U2 set out to become the biggest band in the world. Now they're fighting to avoid being crushed by their own myth." The magazine's overall minimalistic look matches well with how U2 was publicly perceived at the time. Again, haven't read the article in depth, but I think it's the one I look forward to reading to most. Seems to deliver a considerate/compassionate and entertaining look at celebrity, and the tensions between fame and music making, all in relation to Rattle and Hum. Includes some photos that when viewed in the article's context, totally showcase a tension between the mythicism of celebrity and ordinary personhood. Three out of the four photos were new to me.

I'm sure digital versions exist for some of these articles already. I at least know you can find some past Rolling Stone articles and interviews online. But still, I think there's something to be said about the original physical versions with all the photos, design choices, and whatnot. As a younger person, I find these physical copies especially valuable, as they're like primary sources that allow me to better connect with a time I didn't get to live through personally.

I'll probably have lots more to say about each of these at some point in the future, but in the meantime, I'd be happy to post scans if anyone so desires!

[nigrit]

'The War of the Districts, or the Flight of Marat…'

Part 1 (of 5)

Some years ago I photographed a fantastic, satirical poem from a compendium of French Revolutionary verse in the BnF (réserve). It’s been gathering virtual dust ever since. But no more! It’s a witty take on a key moment from early in the Revolution, when the Paris authorities pitted themselves against the radical Cordeliers district (under Danton’s leadership). With help from @anotherhumaninthisworld (merci encore!), we managed to produce a rough translation, which I revised, added some footnotes (to clarify the more obscure references) and added this brief intro to put it in context. While the translation is a literal one, I’ve tried to preserve some of the rhyming spirit of the original where possible. So boil the kettle, get a brew on and settle down to an epic account of Maranton vs Neckerette…

In the early hours of 22 January 1790, General Lafayette, commander of the National Guard, authorized a large military force to arrest the radical journalist Jean-Paul Marat, following a request from Sylvain Bailly, the Mayor of Paris, to provide the Chatelet with sufficient armed force [“main-forte’] to enable its bailiff to enforce the warrant.[1] Bailly’s request was in response to the outrage caused by the publication, four days earlier, of Marat’s 78-page Denunciation of the finance minister, Jacques Necker.[2] Marat had moved into the district the Cordeliers district in December to seek its declared protection against arbitrary prosecution.

His best-selling pamphlet denounced Necker – probably the most popular man in France after the King in July 1789 – of covertly supporting the Ancien Régime and working to undermine the Revolution. His accusations included plotting to dissolve the National Assembly and remove the royal family to Metz on 5 October, colluding in grain hoarding and speculation, and generally compromising the King’s honour. The charges were intended to reveal a cumulative (and damning) pattern of behaviour since Necker’s reappointment in July 1788, and again in July 1789. Bearing his Rousseau-derived epigraph, Vitam impendere vero (‘To devote one’s life to the truth’) – now used as a kind of personal branding, Marat adopted the role of “avocat” to ‘try’ Necker before the court of public opinion.[3] Its general tone came in the context of a wider distrust of international capitalism, with which Necker was closely associated, and which appearted to violate many traditional values.[4] For those interested in the nitty gritty, here’s a footnote explaining why Marat had completely lost faith in Necker.[5]

It caused such a sensation that the first print-run sold out in 24 hours. Most of the radical press hailed Marat’s audacity in challenging Necker’s ‘virtuous’ reputation, while providing invaluable publicity for his pamphlet. The legal pursuit of Marat was largely prompted by the rigid adherence of the Chatelet to Ancien Régime values against the offence of libel (attacking a person in print).[6] I suspect that Marat was hoping a high-profile campaign against Necker would help to establish his name in the public eye by provoking a strong response. However, this was one of the rare occasions when Necker delegated his defence to ‘hired’ pens, providing Marat with valuable extra publicity.

If libel was the main reason for going after Marat, the impetus for pursuit was further motivated by wider political concerns over the extreme volatility that had gripped Paris since mid-December. After pre-emptive popular action in July and October against perceived counter-revolutionary plotting, a new wave of similar rumours was seen by many as a signal that the thermometer was about to explode again. The arrest of the marquis de Favras on Christmas Eve, for allegedly conspiring to raise a force to whisk the King away to safety, assassinate revolutionary leaders, and put his master, Monsieur (the King’s middle brother) on the throne as regent, only served to intensify popular fears. This, combined with the continuing failure to prosecute any royal officers, including the baron de Besenval, commander of the King’s troops around Paris during 12-14 July – who would be acquitted on 29 January for ‘counter-revolutionary’ actions – led to large crowds milling daily outside the Palais de Justice, as the legal action against both men dragged on through January.[7] On the 7th January, a bread riot in Versailles led to the declaration of martial law; on the 10th, a large march on the Hotel de Ville had been stopped in its tracks by Lafayette; on the 11th, there was an unruly 10,000-strong demonstration, screaming death-threats against defendants and judges, in the worst disturbances to public order since the October Days march on Versailles (and the most severe for another year); and on the 13th, tensions were further exacerbated by a threatened mutiny amongst disgruntled National Guards, which was efficiently snuffed out by Lafayette.[8] As a result, Marat’s Denunciation, and earlier attacks on Boucher d’Argis, the trial’s presiding judge, were seen as encouraging a dangerous distrust towards the authorities. Hence the pressing need to set an example of him.

So much for the background. Do we know anything about the poem’s authorship? it appeared around the same time (July/August) as Louis de Champcenetz & Antoine Rivarol’s sarcastic Petit dictionnaire des grands hommes de la Révolution, par un citoyen actif, ci-devant Rien(July/Aug 1790), which featured a brief entry on how Marat had eluded the attention of 5000 National Guardsmen and hid in southern France, disguised as a deserter. These figures would become the subject of wildly varying estimates, depending on who was reporting the ‘Affair’ – all, technically, primary sources! The higher the number of soldiers, the greater the degree of ridicule.[9] Contemporary accounts ranged from 400 to 12,000, although the latter exaggerated figure, included the extensive reserves positioned outside the district.[10] Since the poem also suggests around 5000 men, this similarity of numbers, alongside other literary and satirical clues, such as both men’s involvement in the Actes des apôtres, and the Petit dictionnaire’s targeting of Mme de Stael, suggest a possible common authorship.[11] While the poem took delight in mocking the ineptitude of the Paris Commune, the lattertook aim at the pretensions of the new class of revolutionary. While it is impossible to estimate the public reception of this poem, its cheap cover price of 15 sols suggests it was aimed at a wide audience. It was also republished under at least two different titles, sometimes alongside other counter-revolutionary pamphlets.[12]

Both act as important markers of Marat’s growing celebrity, just six months after the storming of the Bastille. A celebrity that reached far beyond the confines of his district (now section) and readership (which peaked at around 3000).[13] Marat was no longer being spoken of as just a malignant slanderer [“calomniateur”] but as the embodiment of a certain revolutionary stereotype. While he lacked the dedicated ‘fan base’ of a true celebrity, such as a Rousseau, a Voltaire or (even) a Necker, he did not lack for public curiosity, which was satisfied in his absence by a mediatized presence in pamphlets, poems, and the new lexicology.[14] For example, Marat would earn nine, separate entries in Pierre-Nicolas Chantreau’s Dictionnaire national et anecdotique (Aug 1790), the first in a series of dictionaries to capitalize on the Revolution’s fluid redefinition of language.

There seems little doubt that Marat’s Denunciation was intended to provoke the authorities into a strong reaction, and create “quelque sensation”, of which this mock-heroic poem forms one small part.[15] It would prove a pivotal moment in his revolutionary career, transforming him from the failed savant of 1789 to a vigorous symbol of press freedom and independence in 1790. Who knows what might have happened, if, as one royalist later remarked, the authorities had simply ignored this scribbling “dwarf”, whose only weapon was his pen.[16]

I'll post the 3 parts of the poem under #la fuite de Marat. enjoy!

[1] The Chatelet represented legal authority within Paris.

[2] Dénonciation faite au tribunal public par M. Marat, l’Ami du Peuple, contre M. Necker, premier ministre des finances (18 Jan 1790).

[3] The slogan was borrowed from Rousseau’s Lettre à d’Alembert, itself a misquote from Juvenal’s Satires (Vitam inpendere vero = ‘To sacrifice one’s life for the truth’).

[4] See Steven Kaplan’s excellent analysis of the mechanisms of famine plots and popular beliefs in the collusion between state and grain merchants. In part, this reflected a lack of transparency and poor PR in the state’s dealings with the public. During 1789-1790, when anxieties over grain supply were the main cause of rumours and popular tension, Necker made little effort to explain government policies. The Famine Plot Persuasion in Eighteenth-Century France (1982).

[5] As a rule, the King, and his ministers, did not consider the workings of government to be anyone’s business, and was not accountable to the public. However, in 1781, Necker undermined this precedent by publishing his Compte-rendu – a transparent snapshot of the royal finances – yet on his return in 1788, he failed to promote equivalent transparency over grain provision. In consequence, local administrators suffered from a lack of reliable information. Given the underlying food insecurity that followed the poor harvest of 1788, any rumours only unsettled the public. The most dramatic example of this came in the summer of 1789, when rumours of large-scale movements of brigands & beggars created the violent, rural panic known as ‘The Great Fear’. It was Necker’s continuing silence on these matters that lost Marat’s trust.

[6] Necker had a history of published interventions defending himself before the tribunal of public opinion, confessing that a thirst for gloire (renown) had motivated his continual courting of PO, then dismissing it as a fickle creature after it turned against him in 1790. eg Sur l’Administration de M. Necker (1791). For the best demonstration of continuity with Ancien Régime values after 1789, see Charles Walton, Policing Public Opinion in the French Revolution (2009).

[7] The erosion of Necker’s popularity began on 30 July after he asked the Commune to grant amnesty to all political prisoners, including Besenval.

[8] While the evidence was slight, Favras’ sentence to be hanged on 18 February made him a convenient scapegoat, allowing Besenval and Monsieur to escape further action. See Barry M. Shapiro, Revolutionary Justice in Paris, 1789-1790 (1993).

[9] The most likely figure appears 300-500. See Eugène Babut, ‘Une journée au district des Cordeliers etc’, in Revue historique (1903), p.287 (fn); Olivier Coquard, Marat (1996), pp.251-55; and Jacques de Cock & Charlotte Goetz, eds., Oeuvres Politiques de Marat (1995), i:130*-197*.

[10] For example, figures cited, included 400 in the Révolutions de Paris (16-23 Jan); 600 (with canon) in Mercure de France (30 Jan), repeated in a letter by Thomas Lindet (22 Jan); 2000 in a fake Ami du peuple (28 March); 3000 in Grande motion etc. (March); 4000 in Révolutions de France; 6000 (with canon) in Montjoie’s Histoire de la conjuration etc. (1796), pp.157-58; 10,000 in Parisian clair-voyant; 12,000 in Marat’s Appel à la Nation (Feb), repeated in AdP (23 July), reduced to 4000 in AdP (9 Feb 1791), but restored to 12,000 inPubliciste de la République française (24 April 1793).

[11] “Five to six large battalions/Followed by two squadrons” = approximately 5000 men (4800 + 300). A royalist journal edited and published by Jean-Gabriel Peltier, who also appears the most likely publisher of this poem.

[12] For example, Crimes envers le Roi, et envers la nation. Ou Confession patriotique (n.d., n.p,) & Le Triumvirat, ou messieurs Necker, Bailly et Lafayette, poème comique en trois chants (n.d., n.p.). Note the unusual use of ‘triumvirate’ at a time when this generally applied to the trio of Antoine Barnave, Alexandre Lameth and Adrien Duport.

[13] By the time the poem appeared, the Cordeliers district had been renamed section Th��åtre-français, following the administrative redivision of Paris from 60 districts to 48 sections on 21 May 1790.

[14] For the growth of mediatized celebrity, see Antoine Lilti, Figures publiques (2014).

[15] As Marat explained in a footnote (‘Profession de foi’) at the end of his Denunciation, “Comme ma plume a fait quelque sensation, les ennemis publics qui sont les miens ont répandu dans le monde qu’elle était vendue…”

[16] Felix Galart de Montjoie, Histoire de la conjuration de Louis-Philippe-Joseph d’Orléans (1796), pp.157-58.