#again apologies if this doesn't make sense

[dyingswanpavlova]

Treasure

Pairing: Hwang In-ho/The Frontman × Reader

Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Smut, Age Gap (Reader is 25, In-ho is 54), Usage of Daddy, Mentions of Emotional Abuse in the Past, Low Self-Esteem, Sex as a Business Deal, Edging, Spanking, Overstimulation, Face Slapping, Oral Sex (Both receiving), Gagging, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Minors do not interact!

Author's note: It's mostly bad experiences and smut. Anyone who knows me, knows I can't do wholesome...But, you guys, I'm trying!

It has been quite a while since his wife died and he hasn't gotten over it. But now he found someone who brings out a softer side of him...or makes him feel anything at all. Even if it's just the fact that he doesn't have to dine and sleep alone.

The day of her death was always the worst.

Of course he was always cold. One might even muster up the courage to call it cruel.

He was a complicated man in any sense of the word. While he was as cunning as he was handsome, he was also cool and composed. He didn’t ever lose that tight composure, until he allowed himself to. There were only few situations that allowed him to let loose and unleash the beast that lived within him.

It was rather obvious that there was more to him. The way he carried himself made it seem like he was no more than the stoic business man, but sometimes, sometimes you caught a soft glimpse of whatever was underneath. The way his eyes shone in a certain light.

 His brother was enough.

His wife, of course.

 But you were clever. And your sense of self-preservation forbade you to pry. All you had to do was do your job. And what was your job?

You found yourself applying a drop of perfume to your neck and your wrists, staring at your form in the mirror. The black lace covered most of your intimate parts, but it was just enough to leave him yearning for more. He liked that especially – when he had to use his imagination.

But sometimes, on rare occasions like that night, he needed more. He needed a little, naughty dream, to distract him from the turmoil that raged within him.

He was never cruel to you. He was just cold.

It wasn’t like you minded. So far, you had heard all kinds of things from a few friends of yours. Men could be vile creatures, who performed the most heinous crimes, whenever they felt like it. You were sure you could call yourself lucky, when it came to that.

He was older, that was out of question. But that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Not for you anyway.

You couldn’t tell when that started or what the exact reason was.

Your father had been a fairly good man. He never abused you and never hurt you out of the ordinary. The occasional session of spanking was something that stopped once you got older. Of course a child that steps out of line will get punished. It’s not that dramatic and you were sure, you took no damage after that.

He had been a kind man. Good-hearted. He loved you, your sister and your mother very much.

Until he got drunk.

Of course, he loved you then as well. And he never hit you then, either. Not you.

Your mother, sure. The poor, sweet woman she was. Her broken spirit cracked through the light in which her soul was covered, because she was strong like that. Gentle, but strong.

He wasn’t gentle when he drank. No, all you had to do was say the wrong thing at the wrong time and suddenly he’d explode. The way he yelled out of nowhere was the worst thing. The way he gritted his teeth like a wild animal.

You had flinched more than once during the course of your life, simply because he got so angry.

But after a while, he always calmed down, didn’t he? He came down from his demonic horror trip and suddenly, he was good again.

Of course he was proud. Too proud for anyone’s good. His pride often kept him from apologizing. In most cases, he’d just try and act like nothing changed, like nothing happened, like he didn’t just made the walls crumble with his anger.

But sometimes, when he went really overboard, he managed to swallow his pride and then he would apologize. A hug, a kiss, and everything was back to normal.

You forgave him. Why wouldn’t you? He was your father. He loved you.

But daddy issues? No. He was there, after all. He didn’t abuse you. Didn’t hit you.

You had no issues. Why would you?

Right?

You finished applying the perfume and decided to put on some lip balm. It held the faintest hint of rose-color. He didn’t like too much make-up. He didn’t like anything that felt like you were playing dress-up. The silk on your body, it only made sense if it highlighted your character in a way. Not change it.

The gloss on your lips, the blush on your cheeks. No eyeshadow allowed, unless it were natural colors. Mascara was alright, but no fake lashes.

Blush was okay, contour was not.

Lace was okay, leather was not.

J’adore was okay, Chanel Number 5 was not.

You released a slow breath and took a moment longer to check your appearance.

You were pretty, you knew that. Probably not in the way that made you get voted prom queen. More in the way that made weird men ogle you.

That was a talent of yours you had figured out at some point. Your eyes were expressive. And people loved to eye-fuck you.

Sometimes, you’d indulge. It depended on the man and the situation. It depended on the way his eyes on you made you feel.

Not any man would do. Some were perverts, some were disgusting, some desperate. You didn’t look back, when a man walked beside his oblivious wife and looked at you like he was ready to devour you. You also didn’t look back, when a man stared at you with wide eyes and licked his lip in a way that was too lecherous at once.

A subtle glance.

Not even a smile.

Just a look.

You’d look away and after a while, you’d check again. The feeling that spread in your chest was often the same. One of recognition, of attention. It made you feel pretty and desired. Someone wanted you. They were subtle about it, but not subtle enough to refrain themselves from staring.

In most cases, it didn’t lead to anything.

Sure, you had that messed-up phase, after you turned nineteen. Looking back, you really wished your father had been stricter with you. You were always allowed to do whatever you wanted. Meet who you want, do what you want, unless, of course, it got dark outside. No walking alone in the dark.

But he never checked who you were with, if you were truly where you said you were. Your parents trusted you. Back in the day, when you told them you had already finished your homework, they trusted you. Your bad grades weren’t their fault. They had trusted you to do better.

Back when you were nineteen, when you told them you were at the cinema with a few friends, they trusted you. They didn’t check, if maybe you were getting pounded away by some forty-seven year old man, who came on your face and left you feeling used and humiliated.

Never during. Always after.

You had no idea why you felt like you needed this so badly. Attention of men. Approval of men.

Men.

They were never good to you. They used you in most cases and then they’d just up and leave.

First, you were naïve. You pictured all kinds of things. Your mother’s Italian friend, who’d take you to Rome and buy you gelato. You’d walk some coast and he’d show you the lovely way Italians lived. He’d love you, you were sure.

It didn’t matter than he had a daughter your age or maybe even a few years older.

He’d love you.

But of course, he didn’t. Silly you, you really believed that, didn’t you? And he didn’t even say he would. You just made up that version of him in your head.

Some sweet guy from Oregon, who sang Arctic Monkeys song for you with his guitar. You only spoke online, but why care? You’d go and live the American dream with him. Of course you would. He had those soft, brown eyes and the voice of an angel.

You’d give him as many babies as he wanted.

So, of course you agreed, when he asked you to take your top off. Suck on your fingers, look up at the camera with doe eyes, while you did. You slipped two fingers inside yourself, moaning and gasping. Of course you were pretending. Who got off on this? Not you. All he did was stare at you. You didn’t see his face, while he pulled his pants down. It was either his face or the rest of him. But you were looking at him, while you touched yourself for him. It didn’t take him long to cum. But that was alright. You’d get married, after all. In some cases, long distance worked. This was one of them of course.

Blocked.

You spent months trying to find him again. But no way. He was gone, deleted, lost in the depths of the internet. A lost memory. A shameful one.

Sometimes you asked yourself, why your sister turned out normal. She had a job, a family, a husband who loved her. Or did he?

He did get angry, at times. And those few times when he called her a slut, when they argued. It wasn’t that bad, right?

That one time he left her standing at the sidewalk in the middle of the night, in a foreign city. It wasn’t that bad, right? She had angered him after all.

You felt nauseous, just thinking about it. Your sister was the epitome of life and liveliness. She was so spirited, that sometimes her anger scared you. Her confidence did for sure. She was your father’s daughter after all.

But the bastard she married broke that spirit.

And she didn’t even realize it. She just let it happen. You didn’t understand it.

But what you did understand was that she wasn’t as perfect as you always thought. Things were a little more complicated than you initially thought. But you were still far behind her.

You tried to push the thoughts of your messed-up existence and upbringing aside and focus on the task at hand.

Him.

Mr. Important.

You knew his real name and he knew yours, but names didn’t really matter. All you normally called him was daddy.

But luckily, you weren’t babygirl or little girl. That felt odd, even to you. It wasn’t that he was after that – someone who was remarkably younger than him. You just happened to be.

He was fifty-four, going fifty-five. You were twenty-five, going twenty-six.

Thirty years more or less, who cared about that?

And he didn’t really look his age. You found, he looked a good forty-six, maybe.

But aside from that, he was different. The were two kind of men in the world.

The real ones and the made up ones.

The ones who ogled you, while they were walking beside their wives and the ones who never got over their wife’s death and were looking for a way to distract themselves.

You had seen a picture of her. He didn’t make a secret of it. No, he was proud to having loved her. The thought filled you with something bittersweet. A part of you was jealous. Jealous, that someone got loved so intensely, that she’d never be forgotten, ever.

After all, she died young and pregnant. It made you nauseous.

And another part of you, the far bigger part, the less selfish part, it admired him.

He loved her. He loved her so dearly, that she took a great part of his soul with him, when she left.

God, you wished to be loved like that. To be loved at all.

You remembered the way you first met him. The subtle eye-contact. No smile.

But you didn’t feel like you normally did. Something about him was different. He wasn’t lecherous. He was calm. Almost like he was…lonely.

And he understood your loneliness.

The arrangement came quick and without any fuss. He did pay you, but not with money per say. He paid for your studies, he bought you gifts, sometimes he took you out to places you had never been before.

The theatre. The ballet. The opera, even.

That was what you loved the most. He didn’t just use you and left you feeling empty. He didn’t even fuck you every time you saw him. Sometimes you’d just go out. Have dinner. Talk.

You talked a lot and about everything. Sometimes you felt like you were an old soul, sometimes you felt like you knew nothing at all. He knew things. He looked at you. He listened to you.

Sometimes he could be really funny. On other nights he was rather quiet.

You didn’t care if he absentmindedly played with your hand or hair or if he stared straight ahead. Whatever he did, it always made your heart race.

You understood that you were treading on very thin ice.

Feelings were not a part of the arrangement.

He would never love you. You would never be more to him than treasure.

But when you lay there, your head on his chest and still breathless after you just spent hours doing the most wicked things to each other, you couldn’t help yourself. You craved his warmth. His arms around you and how protected he made you feel.

You couldn’t make a mistake. Nothing you did ever made him yell at you.

And that was rather dangerous.

Because you could picture it so easily. Being his wife. His everything. Having his children. Cooking his dinner. Doing all the things loving people did.

All the things loved people did.

You pushed the thought aside with intense fervor, when you heard his raspy voice call out for you.

“Treasure? Are you alright?”

You nearly gasped when you realized how long you had been in there. With a soft shake of your head and a slow exhale, you pushed down the door handle and stepped out of the bathroom. He stood in front of the fireplace and stared down at the flames, lost in thought. When he heard the door open, he looked up and met your gaze. Something in him stiffened for a moment and his gaze ran down your body slowly. You swallowed thickly and tried to push your nervousness aside.

You wanted to be perfect for him. But you were so far from perfect. Each and every time you feared he would look at you, scoff and shake his head.

“I don’t remember that much skin.”

“You looked younger last time.”

“Where’d that wrinkle come from?”

But of course he never said anything like that. Simply your insecurities, giving you a hard time.

He hummed softly and shifted so that he was fully facing you.

“You look beautiful.” He murmured. “Come here.”

You approached him with slow steps, the sound of your tiptoes the only sound beside the crackling of the fireplace.

You came to a halt before him and he tipped your chin up in a gentle way, slowly tilting your head up and making you look at him. He brushed his lips over yours in the softest way, making you shiver in response.

His hand slowly ran down the side of your neck, until his fingers brushed over the lace that covered your collarbone. His eyes followed the movement and he released a soft sigh.

“You get more and more beautiful every day.”

How did he expect you not to fall in love with him, when he was being like this?

“Thank you.” You whispered in return and swallowed a bit of your nervousness.

His eyes crinkled in a smile that hardly reached his eyes and his hands slowly came down to grip your hips.

“You know what day today is?”

You nodded.

“Good.” He whispered and dropped his hands to his sides. “Then be a good girl for daddy and distract him.”

You licked your lips and slowly pushed him back. He was letting you. Until you reached the armchair and he slowly sat down on it. You stood before him and tipped his chin up, making him look up at you now. The look in his eyes was nothing short of admiration. His breath against your skin sent a pleasant tingle down your spine.

You slowly straddled his lap and rested your knees on the armrests, pressing yourself against him and feeling the hardness in his pants press into you already. But not yet, you thought. Why not tease him a little?

You leaned in as if to kiss him, but the second before your lips met, you slowly pulled your head back, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

A low growl grumbled in his chest. “Stop being a brat.” He murmured.

You bit your lip and leaned back with a grin. “Me? A brat?”

“You’re just asking to be punished.”

That made you chuckle. “Well…”

“Oh, I see.” He tangled a hand in your hair and tugged on it, tilting your head back and making you look up at him. “That’s how you want to play?” He murmured and his hot breath fanned over your lips and neck. “Alright, then. I invented this game, little dove.”

He released his grip on your hair and grabbed you by the hips, standing up and holding you against him. He picked you up like you weighed nothing and strode off to the bed, practically throwing you down onto it. The sudden intensity left you breathless and you looked up at him with wide eyes. He reached for his tie and slowly undid it.

“I thought you were daddy’s good girl. Looks like I was wrong.”

He sounded as calm as ever, not a hint of anger as usual. He was just being himself.

“I am your good girl.”

“I’d prefer you to be bad right now. Because I feel like punishing you.”

You swallowed thickly and bit your lip, like you did every so often when he got you cornered like this.

“How?” You whispered.

He smirked in that delicious way, which lit his whole face up without even trying. Then he slowly pulled the tie off and ran his fingers along the soft material.

“Turn around.”

Within seconds, you were on your knees and facing away from him. His hands were gentle as he reached for your wrists and brought them behind your back to tie them together. You took a slow breath and closed your eyes, while your body surrendered. It wasn’t hard for you. You trusted him. He knew your boundaries.

For whatever reason, with him you had boundaries.

Never in your life before had you ever told anyone to stop or not do something. Was it fear of being rejected? Simply fear? Something else? Whatever it was, it kept you from setting healthy rules to keep your body and mind safe. You were free to use. Anyone just did whatever they wanted.

Sometimes you did protest, but they wouldn’t stop and eventually you gave in.

But not so him.

He had asked not once, not twice, but countless times. Until eventually you had been forced to be honest and tell him what it was that threw you off. And to your surprise, he didn’t get angry, didn’t even move a muscle. He just nodded and accepted it.

There were a few freaky things you were into and you were obviously allowing him to do. But if there was something that you didn’t want, he didn’t do it. Just like that.

How hard it was not to fall for him. Impossible even.

He tied your wrists together fairly tight and made a point of pulling on the tie to make sure it was good enough. You felt his gaze roam along your back silently. He then ran his fingertips up your back, over your shoulder blades and eventually the back of your neck.

“You’re my little brat, aren’t you?” He purred.

When you didn’t respond at first, he made a point of gently tugging on your hair.

“Yes.” You whispered.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“And you’ve been bad, haven’t you?”

When you nodded, he tugged again, slightly harder this time. You gasped and immediately added: “Yes. Yes, I’ve been bad.”

“So, you deserve to be punished. How should I punish you?”

There was only one right answer to that.

“However you wish.”

You heard the way he smirked. “Good girl. You’re learning.”

He hummed and slowly circled you like a predator. Of course you felt rather exposed, kneeling on the bed like that, wearing nothing but that thin piece of lace and nothing to cover the dampness between your legs.

“Look at you.” He murmured. “So open and ready for me. Let’s see how ready, shall we?”

He didn’t hesitate to slide his hand between your legs and run a finger over your wetness. You couldn’t help but inhale sharply. Your body was aching for his touch.

Surprisingly, he knew how to make you cum. Pretty good even. No other man had ever accomplished that. You’d normally count only on yourself for that, but Mr. Important? Fuck, he was skilled.

He circled your clit in the same skilled way, causing you to squirm and gasp under his touch. He began to work his fingers on you more and more quickly, keeping his gaze firmly on your face. Your brows furrowed in a mixture of pleasure and embarrassment, but you didn’t care. You were so close. So close. So-

You whimpered when he sharply withdrew his hand, leaving you aching.

“Please-“ You whined.

“Not yet.” He said calmly. “Open your mouth.”

You obeyed wordlessly, allowing him to slide his slick fingers into your mouth and making you taste yourself on him. The bulge in his pants became more and more obvious and it did things to you. The way he looked at you, while he made you suck on his fingers was enough to make you go dripping wet. After a beat, he slowly pulled his fingers back and dried them against his shirt. You let out a shuddering gasp.

“You still ought to be punished, if I recall correctly.”

“Wasn’t this punishment enough?” You whispered.

He smirked. “Not even close.”

He sat down on the edge of the bed and gently draped you over his lap, stomach down and your rear up in the air. Your cheek was pressed against the sheets and you closed your eyes.

“Ten. You know the rules.” He murmured and you nodded.

His flat hand cracked against your skin, sending a sharp pain through your body. He wasn’t gentle about that. Not at all.

You cried out in pain and tried not to squirm too much. “One. Thank you, daddy.” You gasped out.

He hummed approvingly, before his hand came down a second time, causing you to wince and cry out again. Somehow, every strike seemed to get more and more rough. Your skin felt raw and sensitive, more and more with every hit, but you forced yourself to stay still and count, like a good girl. By the time you reached the seventh hit, the pain was nearly unbearable. But you knew better than to beg and plead. It only turned him on more and he was ready and eager to start anew.

“Nine. Thank you, daddy.”

“One more. Just one more, treasure. You’re almost done.”

He deliberately waited for a few seconds, causing you to go rigid and tense in his grip. The uncertainty of when the next hit would follow was nearly killing you. Just when you expected it and you winced forcefully, he instead ran his palm along your red skin gently. You took a deep breath.

And then it came.

The most painful of them all and you immediately felt tears sting your eyes. Your voice cracked as you cried out: “T-ten. Ten. Thank you. Thank you, daddy.”

He made a soft sound, filled with approval and a hint of pride. “That’s my good girl. You did so well. I’m proud of you.”

His words made you feel warm and fuzzy and suddenly you felt like crying even more. Your feelings for him were more complicated than you thought.

“Thank you.” You whispered, still trying to catch your breath.

“I think you deserve a reward.” He murmured.

You tried to swallow, with your mouth dry and whispered: “I do?”

He ran a gentle hand over your hair and hummed again.

“You do. Let’s see what we can do for you.” He shifted you gently so you lay on the mattress instead, staring up at him with red-rimmed eyes. He ran his knuckles over your cheek and smiled slowly.

“Was it too much?”

You shook your head.

He took a slow breath and nodded. “Good.” He shifted so he was on top of you now and pressed a leg between your own. His knee slowly pressed against your core and you felt your eyes fall shut. You didn’t try to hide your pathetic whimper.

He smirked against your ear and gently nipped at it. “Look at that. Have you been this wet all the time?”

Your face flushed painfully and you swallowed your embarrassment. “Yes.”

He hummed approvingly and ran his lips along your cheek, before they finally met your own. You had no time to understand what was going on, when his tongue already parted your lips and delved into your mouth. He wasn’t sweet about it, instead your tongues met in a messy battle, ready to prod at and devour each other.

“What are you?” He groaned against your lips.

“Your cumslut.” You whispered back.

He groaned again and bit down on your lower lip. “Fuck, yes, my dirty little cumslut. You want daddy’s cum, don’t you?”

“Yes, daddy.” You moaned out.

“Where do you want it, treasure? Dripping down your chin or deep inside you?”

Your eyes nearly rolled back. “Wherever you want.”

He pulled back just enough to kiss your neck. His kisses made you squirm and shudder, but it only ever got more and more intense. You felt so exposed and helpless, but also cared for.

He slowly moved his lips along your collarbone, before they brushed over the material that covered your breasts. He bit down on it and tore at until you felt the cold air hit your now exposed chest. He growled in response and didn’t hesitate to kiss and suck at the skin of your breast. Your hips involuntarily arched against his knee, which was still working on your core. You gasped breathlessly and rubbed yourself against him, desperate for more friction.

“Please-“

“Patience.”

He licked a wet path down your stomach, causing you to writhe and moan.

He wasn’t one for half things. When his lips reached your core, he wasn’t gentle or careful. No, his mouth enveloped your most sensitive spot and he began to work his tongue on you almost furiously. He sucked and licked, slid his tongue inside you and over your wet folds with an intensity that made you cry out. He then sucked on your clit in a way that was almost too much, but just right to make you cum so good that you felt like everything around you faded into nothingness. You felt warm and good, better than you had ever before. He took his time and made the moment last, riding out your release so intensely that you nearly had to pull away from him when it became to much. He smirked up at you and slowly came back up to face you. He was fighting for air, as were you.

“Oh God, that was-“

He pushed his tongue back inside your mouth, nearly fucking it. At the same time he slipped two fingers inside you, curling them torturously and pumping them against you in a way that brought you close yet again.

“P-Please, I- Ah!” Your release rolled over you again, hard and soft at the same time, with an intensity that was near painful. Your hips arched off the bed and you nearly screamed by the way you couldn’t find it in you to shut your mouth.

You gasped for air and expected him to finally pull back, but he didn’t. He kept curling his fingers against your sweet spot and the feeling quickly became too much. Your body was so sensitive and every new touch he added felt almost painful.

“Stop- Please- St-“ You cried out and pressed your hips against his hand involuntarily. Your release came crashing yet again, this time it was a feeling between heaven and hell. It still felt good, but it felt far too much.

“Please.” You gasped, before the feeling even was gone. “Please. I can’t take any more…”

He smirked against your lips and gently bit down on the lower one, before he slowly withdrew his hand.

“Good girl.”

You were still panting and gasping for air, when he gave your cheek a light slap. “Time for you to get to work.”

You moaned, and with some effort, fought your way to get up. Your hands were still tied, so you carefully slid down to your knees, kneeling in between his legs. He was still in his pants, so you looked up at him with innocent eyes and whispered: “Can you help me?”

He smirked again and gently cupped your cheek in his hand. “So obedient.”

He freed himself from his remaining clothes and you found yourself staring at him. Despite his age, he was so well-built and you were always desperate for every glimpse, every touch and every taste.

“Can I?” You breathed out.

He hummed and nodded. “Get to it.”

Your gaze wandered down, but he quickly caught your chin. “Keep your eyes on me.”

Your insides tingled with newfound desire. You forced yourself to keep looking at him, while your tongue slowly slid down his stomach. You saw the shift in demeanor. He was still dominant and calm, but his breathing sped up and something changed in his eyes.

“No teasing today.” He all but growled. “Let me feel that pretty mouth.”

You didn’t hesitate to obey. You parted your lips and ran your tongue over his tip. His head fell and back and he groaned. He then tangled his hand in your hair and guided your movements. He didn’t give you time to catch your breath, he just pushed you down and forced you to take him in. You were caught off-guard for a moment and felt yourself gag. He loosened his grip the tiniest bit and you began to move in the rhythm and pace that he set for you. He quickly went from calm and collected to a beast which rammed his thick cock into you and began to use your throat to his pleasure.

You felt yourself grow wet yet again as you moaned against his skin. Whenever he seemed to hit the back of your throat, he couldn’t control the low moans and groans that left his lips. Your movements became more and more frantic, determined to make him feel just as good as he had you.

Of course you wanted him to fuck you and he probably would in an hour or two. And again and again and again…But right then, you wanted nothing more than for him to shoot his hot load into your mouth and down your throat.

You sucked and flicked your tongue against him in a way that made his grip tighten more and more until he-

He went still, except for his cock, which was throbbing furiously inside you. He came with a low growl and he filled your mouth with his seed. He held your head in place, until he rode out his release. When he finally caught his breath back, he released a soft sigh and his grip on your hair became gentle again.

“Oh God, that was…” He sighed again. “Fuck.”

You slowly swallowed every drop of his cum, all the while never taking your eyes off him. His eyes instantly darkened again and he ran his thumb over your tongue.

“My good girl. My treasure.” He breathed out. “I’m so proud of you.”

You closed your eyes and leaned into his touch. It became increasingly gentle and he slowly cupped your cheek in his hand.

“That was incredible.” He murmured. “I’m not done with you yet.”

He reached behind you and carefully freed your from his tie. Then he slowly rubbed his thumbs over your sore wrists.

“Does it hurt?” He murmured. You shook your head.

He pulled you up onto the bed again and gently laid you down beside him. He stared down at you for a long moment, before he finally rested his forehead against yours and closed his eyes.

“I don’t know about you, but I could use a full-course meal right now.”

You chuckled and wrapped your arms around him, slowly running your hands down his back. “Isn’t that what you just gave me?”

He smirked and slowly opened his eyes. “You and that wicked mouth of yours.” He murmured.

Your smile softened when he pressed a lingering kiss against your forehead.

“Can I stay for the night?”

He would most likely let you. He never sent you away feeling used or unsatisfied or, God forbid, unwanted. But there was a part of you that needed to be reassured so badly. And he seemed to know.

He raised a brow and his own expression softened.

“Did you expect anything else?”

His coldness melted away whenever you were like this, entangled and breathless.

No matter how many times he said that it didn’t mean anything.

His eyes told a different story.

“No.” You whispered softly and rested your head on his chest. “No, of course not.”

[fairuzfan]

So you find nothing wrong with "inspired by israeli rave scene" as a concept? Does that not alarm you given that what we've established of Israeli culture is violently racist and anti Arab? Can it occur to you when people hear the word "israeli" it means heartache, violence, and racism? Because whether you accept it or not I cannot conceive of an "israeli" culture that does not kill and displace my family members. I ask you what exactly is "israeli" culture. What does it mean for something to be "israeli"? It doesn't mean anything other than violence.

Do you know what normalization means? What it looks like in practice? Because I've lived my entire life seeing references in TV shows and movies about "israeli" weapons and "israeli" culture knowing they have no idea what they do to Palestinians so casually. You cannot conceive how vital racism is to israeli culture. I've heard people who lived around the world mention that israeli culture is the most racist culture they experience. So when you can't separate that from "israeli culture" what exactly do you have left?

Venues are not neutral objects. If you host a venue at say, a plantation, then I'd judge you. If you host a venue outside a concentration camp, which is what they nova festival, an example of israeli rave culture btw, then you are morally in the wrong for that. This idea that venue is neutral doesn't make sense especially in a context of political organizations

I don't think people should picket it and think if they do then it's a waste of time, which I actually agree with you on. But the idea that you can't even talk about it...? Can we not talk about the ways zionism influences our daily lives? Yes, mentioning israeli culture does actually impact how Americans view it as a neutral entity and not as an actual settler colonial culture. You have people who go to their universities, participate in their economy, and influence their technology which ultimately, as someone tried to say otherwise in the notes, is soft power. To say soft power has no influence on how israel conducts itself is laughable.

I'm not saying they're zionist, I'm criticizing the NYC dsa for their comfort in proximity to "israeli" culture. Most Palestine orgs wouldn't be caught dead defending a nightclub that was "israeli inspired" and if they didn't know earlier, they'd apologize and never book with them again. But NYC dsa just doubled down and insisted rather than just taking the L and moving on. I would have ignored it if they did just move on but no they decided to die on that hill lmao.

Also, schizophrenia is not in anyway an insult, so I find it interesting that you try to use it disparagingly.

That dsa dating event has been discourse for like days now but people pointed out that the venue, SILO, takes its inspiration from "tel Aviv party culture" and that maybe dsa should not promote a club like that got twisted by other dsa members into saying "are you just saying not to go because it's Jewish owned??" Is just... yes it actually is sketchy that they're "taking inspiration from israeli rave culture", its essentially another way israel exerts soft power through cultural influence. And the fact that an active member pointed this out and got blocked by dsa NYC... comical. It doesn't matter if they "held palestine fundraising there" because they're contributing to the circumstances that palestine needs fundraising for.

[beelanddiavolosimp-blog]

Somno mention!!! Obey me brothers with a reader who’s into somnophilia? Maybe also Barbatos? 💚

Ofc ofc!

Obey me brothers with a somnophilia Mc

Lucifer

He often deprives himself of sleep so he is more than excited when he learns of this kink. He can finally relax but it won't be forced upon him to sleep as well? A win win for him. He of course asks repeatedly if you're okay with it and once after about a hundred asks he is on board. He often goes slow. He doesn't want to disturb your sleep too much and dragging out the sex leaves him sleepier at the end. But if he was really riled up or irritated that day you will be woken up with rough poundings he just couldn't hold back.

Mammon

He is on and off with this. He sometimes sleeps early and sometimes sleeps very late. He loves this information because usually whenever you nap out in the open he really takes advantage of it. He doesn't care if his brothers are around or not he's taking that damn chance. He isn't rough per say just fast still pleasureable ofc. He is very random with this due to his random sleep schedule and well him sleeping naked just helps with this kink as well.

Levi

He didn't believe you at first as he usually does. He kept re asking if it was okay alike Lucifer and it took a thousand responses for him to get it. He was scared at first and only used his hands but as he became more comfortable he started to almost do it nightly since he finds it hard to sleep as well. He's usually gaming but with you infront of him and willing to be fucked even when sleeping makes it more appealing than some game. He also isn't too intimidated by sex since you aren't staring directly into his soul which he loves ofc but it's still a little much for him. So this works out perfectly. He is usually slow but he is loud ASF.

Satan

He was intrigued by this of course. He was a bit confused on how it would work. Wouldn't you not be aroused since you're asleep? Oh boy was he wrong on that. After practically experimenting on your body he gained a nice flow of things. He often times wakes you up by accident because he becomes a bit too rough but with a few breathy apologies and his cum inside you (or on you) it doesn't seem all that bad.

Asmos

He enjoys his beauty sleep so despite many beliefs he doesn't feed into this kink often unless it's where you are napping during the daytime. He will play with you out in the open like Mammon because he has no embarrassment or restraint when it comes to you. He is slow but also drags out very strong orgasms that tend to wake you up for just a bit only to return back to sleep as he cleans you up. After care king (when he's not the one getting plowed)

Beel

With this gained information your pussy/ass will be sore ASF. He is usually up late at night because he can't sleep due to being hungry. Instead of destroying the fridge he gets to destroy you🤗 He usually tries to be gentle but let's be honest he is anything but easy to take. He also is a service top so the pleasure is spiked high with him. He will eat you out for hours too and just tell you to go back to sleep if you randomly wake up. (Yeah right)

Belphie

He ofc loves when you do it to him so he will return the favor whenever he is awake when you're not. Again he doesn't care who is around he will be on you. He loves using his hands because fucking is a little too much sometimes so it's often him either eating you out or fingering you. If he feels riled up enough to fuck you it's quite rough and he does it to see how tough he has to be to wake you up. He doesn't stop regardless but still. He also loves to mark up your body as he does so which is what actually wakes you up since his ass bites hard on purpose so the marks last longer.

Barb

He is alike Lucifer in not being able to sleep doing way too much. After learning this he feels an odd sense of excitement. He usually likes when you're awake for your sessions together. But as he watches your sleeping figure squirm from his touch he doesn't believe it's so bad. He purposely edges you even as you sleep because he wants to test how far he can get you until you wake up. He ends up enjoying it a bit too much.

[heissenn]

𝐇𝐒𝐑 𝐖𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍'𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐏𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 featuring: silver wolf, lingsha, the herta, kafka, sparkle tags: fluff, self-aware au

silverwolf

"you're kidding me," you hear silverwolf's annoyed voice through your headphones.

silverwolf watches through your camera as you put both your hands together and lower your head in apology. before you can say your sorry excuses, the hacker sighs loudly and beats your incoming punch with her own. "it's the meta isn't it?"

"i mean, it'd make sense to pull for newer characters since you can't even clear endgame," she teases, taking a jab at your gaming skills every chance she gets like she usually does. her voice sounded light and casual but the twinge of dejection didn't escape your trained ears. you couldn't think of anything else to say since she saw right through your reasons.

"i won't say i don't understand. i'm a gamer too, y'know." silverwolf shrugs as she pops her bubblegum with a loud smack. she takes out her phone and gave it a few taps.

"but that doesn't mean i'm gonna accept your decision." and with that, your screen suddenly turns black. you try to restart your computer and reboot the game but the black screen keeps staring right back at you.

after a few weeks of multiple failed attempts, rendering you unable to pull for the character you wanted. hours right before the banner ends, your computer finally comes back to life. however, you log in to the game only to find out all your reserves of stellar jades and special passes were emptied.

you hear a bubblegum smack as you look at your screen in despair.

lingsha

"i wonder what made you go back on your promise," lingsha is as sweet as ever even as you break the news to her. she smiles at you over your screen albeit her eyes were dimmer and you see a raging vein popping in the side of her smooth forehead, a clear sign she's quite irritated.

"you were doing so good saving up for me, dear. you even told me you were going to get all of my eidolons," her smile twitches as the words leave her mouth and her hands that were petting tuskpir freeze for a moment before caressing again.

"did other women caught your eye, perhaps?" she asks with a raised eyebrow, staring right at you and boring a hole through your soul despite being in a completely dimension as you. "no, of course not," you deny as soon as her words materialized in the air.

"then, what prompted the change of plans?" she asks again, more firmly this time. tuskpir notices the change in her demeanor and quickly scurried off, leaving you alone to deal with a quietly seething cauldron master.

"have you lost interest in me then? maybe in starting to lose my touch." linsgha is confident she has you wrapped around her finger but she still couldn't help but question, it has more to do with her desire to see you squirm uncomfortably rather than being conscious of her charms.

"you know as well as i do that i haven't," your answer sounded more like a plea. it gave lingsha satisfaction but, unfortunately, her mind games are not over yet. at least not until she gets what she wants.

"so, what is the reason then, darling," the question leaves her mouth for the third time but her small smile never left her face once although it was slowly becoming smaller and smaller. you stay silent, racking your brain for reasons to ease her tranquil wrath. she takes your pause as cue to give you her final blow of the long interrogation.

"if you don't have one, then let's do as you promise. warp for me." there wasn't room for questions unlike her previous remarks. her hand outstretches to you as if inviting. you nod without a second thought.

the herta

"why?"

herta is confused. not pull for her? that is something even lifeforms with the lowest intelligence would not dare do. unfathomable. doing the unthinkable might have been what initially made herta take interest in you but now she thinks you're losing a few braincells.

"who could possibly be better than me?" it would take a whole lot to damage the herta's enormous and pristine ego but she thinks your decision poked it a little. "there's no correct answer by the way. no one is better than me," she answers her own question.

"perhaps you've grown complacent because you have my puppets with you." she comes closer to your screen. "but do you not want the real thing?" she asks as her voice tickles your ears trough the speakers. but before she can get anymore closer she stops halfway through, rekindling your desire to pull her closer.

"well, feel free to do as you like. i could care less about what you do anyways," she flips her silky hair and struts away from you.

well, that went easier than you thought. you were sure herta would give you hell for even thinking about not pulling for her. so you go on your merry way to go back to farming.

"not even one stellar jade?!?! after three hours of farming!"

you spent your remaining fuels and trailblazer power but it seems the system is bent on cursing you. the monsters were harder to beat and the rare instance that you do the drops were extremely scarce.

in the end, you weren't able to pull for the character you wanted due to insufficient resources.

kafka

"there's no need to choose, love." kafka says calmly as she looks down at you from her seat. the camera is always angled upwards every time she's on screen, effectively you making you crane your neck to glance at her like is the sky.

"name the price and you shall have it," she declares without any hesitation. her smooth cheek rests on her palm as if sponsoring your pulls are as trivial as the sky being blue.

"i-no, it's wrong. i don't want you to use your money on me," no matter how enticing the offer was, your morals held you back from accepting. you're not her sugar baby, you remind yourself.

"and i don't want you wanting anyone else other me," she replies without missing a beat and your heart thumps louder with how fast she responded without an ounce of doubt in her smooth voice.

"so don't be shy and take it. i want you to have me."

sparkle

"YES! FIRST TEN PULLS AND SHE FINALLY CAME HOME!"

you stand from your chair in shock as the character you've been warping for appear on screen. your fingers hurriedly go to the character menu to greet the new addition to your roster.

"hello~, little one," the character greets you. odd, you don't think the character would call you 'little one'. you only know one person that would call you such nickname. the feeling of familiarity creeps up from your spine and settles at the back of your tongue as you come up with a plausible deduction.

"sparkle," you sigh. you should've known sparkle wouldn't just sit around and watch you warp for somebody else.

"oh no! my cover's been blown," despite the words, the character giggles as she puts her hand in front of her lips. slowly the character's appearance morph into the mischievous girl you know.

"whats with the disappointed look? you're hurting my feelings, cutie," sparkle fakes a pout as her hand press against her chest before her signature smirk takes home in her lips again.

"you should've seen your face when you were celebrating!" she clasps her hands in front and her eyes cloud and get dreamy as she reminisces your reaction.

"you must be even happier since you got a better one, me" she blows a kiss to your camera.

[stressfulsloth]

Thinking about Harry and all the animal parallels that follow him through the narrative. It's true that these animal parallels reflect the way that the brutality of individualist moralism strips him of humanity as someone who has fallen through the safety nets, and his agonised shout of 'I don't want to be this kind of animal anymore' can be interpreted as a direct admission of the RCM's dehumanisation of him as a disabled addict who is no longer as 'useful' as he once was. Gottlieb even directly tells him '[he] lost [his] human visage a while back.' Jean calls him 'the most dangerous animal of them all'. The rabid dog that needs to be put down, the black dog (also a common metaphor for chronic mental illness!) that Mollins shoots as it licks its wounds; the scared, hurt, frightened animal lashing out, chewing off it's own leg to escape the trap that it's caught in. The wild dog is all they can see.

But then there is a flipside to these parallels too; a kindness, a gentleness, almost a freedom in Harry’s animal parallels. He's strong like a 'goddamn ox,' like a bear ('I had to kill the bear to become the bear'). He's a harrier hawk, a name given to ensure his safety, raised up to the level of the aerostatics looking down over Revachol, 'soar[ing] on the wings of [his] spirit hawk.' He's a leopard ('its impossible to know where you end and the leopard begins'), discovering or rediscovering a love of softness and sensuality that he'd not known before via the leopard print leotard that 'speaks to the animal inside [him]' and touches on his relationship with his gender ('Yes, this is the type of animal I want to be.').

He's a 'seagull', a bird that will do 'whatever it takes to survive,' a 'bird of paradise' that tells a story of 'endurance- and adaptation' ('You! You and the seagull are just alike!'). He survives, despite everything, despite the grimness of the world around him. He endures. Even the sea monster comparison is oddly kind ('You've become a sea monster -- giant, hidden and... strangely tender at heart'). Even as a monster, he's still gentle; he still has so much love for this world that has wrung every last bit out of him. As if his tenderness is such an inherent part of him that no matter what monstrous face he wears, no matter what creature is there in his shadow, he cannot help but have some trace of it at his core. His tender soul 'quivering like jello.' The pain he feels is raw and animal but so is the love he feels. So is the hope and the fear and the wonder.

[midnight-soulless-system]

Sleep well, and I'll break this down.

"because tme and tma don't mean what you think they mean. They aren't a "new afab/amab binary" though that's a common misconception/lie about transfeminism. As someone else already mentioned to you, the term tme is applicable to both cis men and cis women generally, which already shows how that claim is untrue." Ahh, but I didn't say it was a new afab/amab binary, I said it was a binary based off of agab, which it is, considering the fact that the only way to be considered "TMA" is to be amab and it creates a new binary. The fact that it moves the goalposts doesn't mean shit.

"Ultimately the question of definitions comes to "who is the intended/primary target of transmisogyny?" with the obvious answer being transfems (disagreement on this is in effect making the term transmisogyny so broad and devoid of meaning that it is no longer useful. "if everything is transmisogyny, nothing is")"

Transmisogyny is the intersection between transphobia and misogyny which people, mainly transfems experience. To say only transfems experience transmisogyny is, to put it lightly, stupid as fuck and I'm sure we can both agree on that. Everyone has been affected by transmisogyny at some point in their life even if they don't know it.

Now, if the definition is "Transmisogyny, otherwise known as trans-misogyny and transphobic misogyny, is the intersection of transphobia and misogyny as experienced by trans women and transfeminine people." then how come TMA excludes people who were assigned female at birth (again, something that has nothing to do with your SIG or your sexual organs), yet still transfeminine or a trans woman? It makes no sense and this exclusionary binary then does not benefit the people it claims to benefit.

"disagreement on this is in effect making the term transmisogyny so broad and devoid of meaning that it is no longer useful. "if everything is transmisogyny, nothing is"' But that's not what people are saying. Not EVERYTHING is transmisogyny, but everything is affected by transmisogyny because unfortunately every type of oppression intersects in some way. Just because the definition applies to different types of people does not mean it's useless. Implying someone is being feminine in the "wrong way" is transmisogynistic, whether it's targeted at a trans woman or not.

"It then follows that the next question is "define transfem", often with caveats "without using agab". I honestly have started treating this as very comparable to the demand to "define the word woman"' Well, luckily I didn't ask you to do that and I agree, it is too complex of a subject for any definition to not exclude at least one person. Gender is weird as fuck and the fact that it is created by society means that it's definitions are forever changing and will never be the same for any two people, but that's part of the beauty of our world.

"The intention is to entrap the other person by demanding a simple answer to a complex question. In this case a pragmatic but oversimplified answer will be grounds to claim that it is excluding [insert specific counter example]." I still don't know why you brought this up. The only time I've ever seen someone ask someone else to define what transfem means is when they are trying to "not allow" someone else to identify as transfem, which is a valid counter ask.

Like I already said, sleep well, and feel free to respond or not. I apologize for being somewhat aggresive in the beginning of our conversation.

going to start using this for every dipshit post i see on here

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

Do you think if the trolls all came back, like everything in the main comic did happen and they were alive again. Do you think Feferi would actually forgive Eridan? Or want to even be his friend after everything? I don't personally like the erisol and fefertasprite interaction…felt rushed…..so I just wanted to know your opinion if things were different! :)

Yeah, I think they would be! Feferi is one of the trolls who takes dying the least badly (relentless optimism) and Eridan does genuinely feel bad, which means a lot when it's Eridan. I think she really is genuine when she says she wants them to be friends and also that she's really not the type of person to hold a grudge, and like... death is SUPER cheap in Homestuck, it's really not the horrific, irredeemable, irreperable damage that it is IRL - and if you're talking about (Feferi) and (Eridan), then they're both dead (and irrelevent) now, so the score is kind of even.

In general, the fandom - I mean, people in general, really - tend to have difficulty divorcing themselves from other people. We tend to assume that the people and characters they like will hold similar opinions to themselves. This is how people who like Karkat and don't like Eridan can mentally gloss over or even block out their clear, close friendship, or how people who dislike Cronus can end up overlooking that Meenah actually takes his opinion seriously and unironically defends his wizard thing. Feferi really isn't mad at Eridan or upset about dying the way we probably would be, because she's friends with the horrorterrors, relentlessly cheerful, comfortable with death in general, and death is also just not really that big of a deal in this setting. "I'm really sorry about that, that was shitty of me" is honestly probably all the apology she needs, especially if they came back to life anyway.

[hopefulcanary]

scrubbing in, with chapel and bones

idgaf if they canonically don't do this for whatever reason, we're all here for the #aesthetic

who are they about to tend to? eh, probably jim.

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

if dorian didn't show up, do you think louis would have shot minnie?

I do. I know some people think either he wouldn't have or he would've missed so that's why the writers had him shoot Dorian instead, but mmmmmm no, I don't personally think so. I like to think that if he had taken the shot, his shaky hands would've caused him to shoot her fatally.

Mostly because I'm already so normal about the fact that of the Ericson crew, Marlon and Louis are the only ones with a body count. Well, that we know of, but shown to us in the game, at least. Plus, we know it's Louis' first kill.

Like yeah, Clementine and AJ become part of the crew and they have bigger body counts, and if we're counting indirect kills caused by actions, then Tenn has a count... and I guess everyone has blood on their hands for blowing up the boat... but I'm talking about killed directly with a weapon like....... I lied, I'm not normal about that at all, Louis and Marlon are the ones who have killed someone in Louis' route. I'm also not normal about the fact that Louis kills Dorian and then even as he's clearly in shock, he tries to go with Clementine to get AJ, and then later on when they talk about it, he says it feels like bile but not quite and he's glad he has it in him to do it.... listen, listen, listen... I'm obsessed with that.

Anyway, so if Louis shot Minerva, I think he would've accidentally killed her and can you imagine? He's already enough of a mess after killing the woman who pinned him down and tried to cut his finger off [or succeeded] but he knew Minerva, they were friends before the twins were taken. Even Violet couldn't kill her even though that would've been the smarter thing to do, and we know thanks to meta knowledge that killing her would've saved lives, but Violet couldn't, and I don't think Louis would intentionally either.

Speaking of Violet, if Louis killed Minerva, I hate to think about what that would've done to Vi. I think she might've actually left at that point, like what was planned before it got changed to her being burned. I don't think she would've attacked Louis over it, though, like yeah she attacked Clementine in the cell but Louis? I don't know, but I don't think so just because it's Louis and he'd be a mess about it anyway.

Though if he did kill her, it would be a neat parallel to draw... y'know, because Louis forgave AJ for killing Marlon even though he was pissed and heartbroken, and Violet was annoyed with him the entire time... but could she ever forgive Louis for killing Minerva? Y'know? We already have a similar parallel with AJ shooting Tenn, but still.

If Clementine killed Minerva in that moment, though, then I could see Violet attacking her since in her eyes, Clem proved her right.

So yeah, I get why they added the Dorian kill to his route. It adds another compelling element to Louis as a character, but we also need Minerva alive for episode 4; Louis can't kill her, he can't miss, and he's not going to stay with her because we need Violet to stay on the boat and him to be on shore for all routes.

[wutheringmights]

New CTB Music (2024 Update)

It's that time of year where I share some of the tracks that I added to my personal CTB playlist that have not been mentioned before on this blog (view (2021, 2022, and 2023 updates as well).

Body to Flame - Lucy Dacus 

Longing for your short hair to grow back to the way you like Thank you for the gesture I regret ever implying that you could be better Didn't mean to empty your perfect body And fill it with my passing will

Hate Me - Miley Cyrus

Go ahead, you can say that I've changed Just say it to my face One drink and I'm back to that place The memories won't fade

Is It Over Now? - Taylor Swift

"Come here, " I whispered in your ear In your dream as you passed out, baby Was it over then? And is it over now?

Halloween - Noah Kahan

But the wreckage of you, I no longer reside in And the bridges have long since been burned The ash of the home that I started the fire in It starts to return to the Earth I'm leavin' this town and I'm changin' my address I know that you'll come if you want It's not Halloween, but the ghost you're dressed up as Sure knows how to haunt, yeah, she knows how to haunt

Growing Sideways - Noah Kahan

But I ignore things, and I move sideways Until I forget what I felt in the first place At the end of the day I know there are worse ways To stay alive 'Cause everyone's growing and everyone's healthy I'm terrified that I might never have met me

Orange Juice - Noah Kahan

You said my heart has changed and my soul has changed And my heart, and my heart That my life has changed, that this town had changed And you had not That the world has changed, don't you find it strange That you just went ahead and carried on?

I Remember Everything - Zach Bryan

Strained words come on out Of a grown man's mouth when his mind's broke Pictures and passin' time You only smile like that when you're drinking

Figure 8 - Paramore

All for your sake Became the very thing that I hate I lost my way Spinning in an endless figure eight

Let You Down - Zach Bryan & Kacey Musgraves

I'll let you down darlin', down babe Just like I did before You'll just keep on slammin' closed hollow unlocked doors I'll let you down darlin', down babe Just like times before You'll just keep on crawin' back and beggin' me for more

No One Else to Blame - Madison Cunningham

For the burden and the stress For the heartache and the mess you entertain You put your money down on which part of you is next To slip down the drain with nothing, nowhere and no one No one else to blame

Golden Age - Ethel Cain 

Do you just want my blood? Am I just that damn hard to love? 'Cause it feels like all I have is still just not enough I guess that I'll just go outside and watch the fire And fields of gold fly farther away from me

Dawns - Zach Bryan & Maggie Rogers

Give me my dawns back Everything that dies makes its way back I lost her last July in a heart attack I need one small victory

Crave - Paramore

I romanticize even the worst of times When all it took to make me cry was being alive Look up and see a reflection Of someone who never gave way to the pain What if I told 'em that now that I'm older There isn't a moment that I'd wanna change?

Your Hate Could Power a Train - Madison Cunningham

I'm not messin' around, not ready to laugh about it I don't worship the ground that's holdin' you I think it's wrong, the way you harm But no one ever looks too hard at it What does it say about you? Your hate could power a train

Head In the Wall - Ethel Cain

Sometimes you make wanna put my fucking head through the wall Sometimes I wonder if I even know you at all

thousand eyes - FKA Twigs 

If I walk out the door, it starts our last goodbye If you don't pull me back, it wakes a thousand eyes

teenage dream - Olivia Rodrigo 

They all say that it gets better, it gets better the more you grow Yeah, they all say that it gets better, it gets better, but what if I don't?

You First - Paramore 

Everyone is a bad guy And there's no way, no way to know Who's the worst Karma's gonna come for all of us And I hope, well, I hope, I just hope She comes, comes for you first, oh

Vampire Smile - Kyla La Grange

I want a scar that looks just like you, 'Til then I gotta learn to be a wiser fool.

[unimaginativebepisenjoyer99]

the satrinyavas

[the-mang0tree]

My boi you cannot keep dropping such incredible/interesting transformers AUs and expect me not to get invested in them

I need more lore on all of them and i need them NOW!!!

IM SORRY LMAO 😭😭 i get crazy inspired by songs

i can tell u abt this last one, but there's not much, the idea popped to my head this morning lol 😭

everyone's shocked by op's death, because it was at the hands of an autobot !! not megan, not a decepticon, but a trusted bot. peace talks were ready to take place, but they almost didn't happen bc of it, since the bots thought the cons had brainwashed that mech into offlining oppy

im thinking megs and op weren't ever really close, not even before the war, like they were just figureheads of their own factions that opposed each other, they were never friends. so op dies, megs is very obviously shocked and angry like everyone else, since they're accusing Her faction of something they didn't do

one day he finds op on his room, looking all blue and transparent and snooping around. after triple checking with soundwave (+ some deep contemplation about possibly hitting his head recently) he accepts that his fate is being annoyed to death by his ex-enemy (they become friends eventually, hurray)

some Loong time later, peace is achieved, she doesn't step up to become leader like everyone said she would, and instead aims to just try to live a normal life. except literally Everyone is scared of him to some degree, he obviously has no friends (that are alive) and frankly it's making him depressed and angry that he can't go to the store without everyone running away (even if it was kinda funny at the beginning). so oppy decides to start teaching him to be nice and to start trusting others, it's safe to say megs is not a great student but is at least trying

[fallloverfic]

Really tired of people calling FG by the one name that makes zero sense in context, is alienating to a lot of people, and is actually the single figure Mojito has confirmed he's not. Are people just unaware of one of the more popular hairstyles/looks for guys with long(ish) brown(ish) hair and beards/beard stubble in (and out of) media?

People/characters listed left to right, starting with the top:

Row 1: Sebastian Stan as Bucky Barnes in Captain America: The Winter Soldier; François Arnaud as Cesare Borgia in The Borgias; David Wenham as Faramir in The Lord of the Rings; Oded Fehr as Ardeth Bay in The Mummy Returns; Jason Carter as Marcus Cole in Babylon 5

Row 2: Kevin Sorbo as Hercules in Hercules: The Legendary Journeys; Liam Neeson as Qui-Gon Jinn in Star Wars: The Phantom Menace; "Foreign God" in ENNEAD Season 1, Episde 65; "Foreign God" in ENNEAD Season 2, Episode 10; Robin Atkin Downes; Hugh Jackman as Van Helsing in Van Helsing

Row 3: Ewan McGregor as Obi-Wan Kenobi in Star Wars; Hades in Blood of Zeus, James Watson as Duncan Idaho in Dune (2000); Gale in Baldur's Gate 3; Viggo Mortensen as Aragorn in The Lord of the Rings

Row 4: Mark Ryder as Cesare Borgia in Borgia; Jason Momoa; Nigel Terry as King Arthur in Excalibur; Christian Kane as Eliot Spencer in Leverage; Jared Padalecki

Like I could keep adding people and characters to this because this style is so damn common (I was honestly tempted to make a second collage, bare minimum). But I'd be here forever. There are a number of other fan names for the unnamed foreign god, including Foreign God, FG, Beard, Mustache, or you could go with what Seth calls him, "Furball".

[linagram]

[ 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝-𝚝𝟸 𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚊 #𝟶𝟷 ] 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚘 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎

the second trial is getting closer and closer to its end. it's time for miki to finally meet jackalope, learn more about how this place works and who she's going to work with in the next season.

(also she has her hair down now!)

(the door opens)

Miki: *sighs*

Miki: Well, uh..

Miki: I guess it's over.

Miki: ...

Miki: It's.. kinda lonely now.

(sound of Miki sitting down on her bed)

Miki: This is so..

Miki: *starts crying*

Miki: This is not.. fair.. 

Miki: Eiji-san.. had worked so hard.. 

Miki: A-and now..

Miki: H-he'll be fine, right? I mean, we don't have anyone who can treat him, b-but..

Miki: I-I asked Chiba-san, but she's not a doctor, she's just the oldest one here..

Miki: A-and I can only d-do first aid stuff..

Miki: T-thankfully, it's just a broken arm, it could've been much worse..

Miki: But still..

Miki: .. Why is Eiji-san the only guard that the prisoners can touch?

Jackalope: Good question.

Miki: *SCREAMS*

Jackalope: Okay, before you try to hit me with anything-

Miki: WHO ARE YOU?! 

Miki: Or.. uh..

Miki: WHAT ARE YOU?!

Miki: "I.. I knew there was something wrong with this place, but I didn't expect to see this rabbit thing-"

Miki: ...

Miki: .. Rabbit thing?

Jackalope: Here we go again.

Jackalope: Oh-

Miki: Are you the rabbit that Hiyuu-san mentioned?!

Jackalope: S-stop shaking me-

Jackalope: .. Hiyuu?

Miki: Uh.. You know..

Miki: The third guard.

Miki: Wait, why am I even having a conversation with you? How can you even talk?!

Jackalope: Let's talk about that later.

Miki: I literally want to know why we can talk like this!

(sound of Jackalope jumping down on the bed)

Jackalope: Anyway. 

Jackalope: So, you're Miki, right? 

Jackalope: Yeah, you're definitely the cutest one out of all the guards we have this time.

Miki: .. How many guards do you have exactly?

Jackalope: Eh, there was supposed to be one more, but he couldn't handle the pressure, so..

Miki: .. What do you mean by that?

Jackalope: Actually, maybe I should explain how exactly we chose the guards this time. I don't think anything bad will happen if you learn more about this.

Jackalope: Also, I just trust you more than that Eiji guy. There is a reason why you're the "goddess of this place" after all, haha.

Miki: B-but what happened to the fourth guard-

Jackalope: So, you have probably already noticed that there's some kind of pattern if you think more about the connection you and Eiji have with other prisoners.

Jackalope: Two prisoners in particular. 

Miki: .. Eiji-san and Kei-san are brothers. Me and Asahi-san are siblings.

Jackalope: Exactly. So, why do you think we decided that we should choose the prisoners' siblings as the guards?

Miki: .. No idea. 

Jackalope: Well, you might be thinking that we did it out of some kind of sadistic urge to make you two judge your own siblings, however, Eiji hates Kei and would love to see him die.. or at least that's what he says, and it took you some time to remember that Marito is actually your brother.

Miki: How do you know his-

Jackalope: It isn't actually that entertaining, especially if we consider how you two tend to vote everyone. Eiji would still vote Kei guilty no matter what and you would do the opposite with Marito and forgive him every single time.

Jackalope: Also, this is just.. tasteless to me. What we need is actual judgement, even if it's based only on the prisoners' looks, and not your connections and relationships and how much you will cry when it's time to vote them guilty.

Jackalope: Though you have to agree that you have.. certain relationship dynamics with some of them. I bet it's getting harder to make decisions because of them.

Miki: So.. Why did you go for the prisoners' siblings?

Jackalope: The answer is simple, really.

Jackalope: Because it was easier.

Miki: .. Huh?

Jackalope: Think about it. What, you think we just found you all in a minute?

Jackalope: Yes, this prison might work in some mysterious ways that are impossible for someone like you to understand, but we had to find ten murderers who live in completely different cities and towns, wait for the right moment to send them here, make sure their family, friends and loved ones didn't find out and we also needed to find guards to judge them. Not one guard, but more, because this time we needed to see how the trial would go with people who have completely different morals.

Jackalope: So, then we found out more information about everyone's family members, we learned about you and Eiji, and we were like..

Jackalope: We need to put these two in the same room and see how it will play out.

Jackalope: But we still needed more than two guards because there was a possibility of you two refusing to work together and we didn't want a 50/50 result, so..

Miki: What is a "50/50 result"?

Jackalope: So yeah, we just decided that it will be easier to choose the prisoners' siblings as the guards because we wouldn't have to think too hard about it.

Miki: ...

Miki: U-um, sir, I don't know your name..

Jackalope: Oh, right, please forgive me for not introducing myself earlier, haha. Call me Jackalope-

Miki: A-anyway, sir, that's kind of lame.

Jackalope: Huh.

Miki: I AM SO SORRY, PLEASE PRETEND YOU HAVEN'T HEARD THAT!

Jackalope: No, no, I want you to elaborate.

Miki: Well.. I thought that there would be more thought put into.. 

Miki: You know.. All of this.

Jackalope: But we did put a lot of thought into it! 

Jackalope: For example, we've even chosen-

Jackalope: .. Ahem. I did agree to tell you about the siblings part, but I have to stop myself here. You're lucky that you're cute and it's hard to say no to you.

Miki: "I just wanted to learn more about the fourth guard.."

Miki: S-so, the fourth guard is-

Jackalope: We actually weren't sure if we should make you and Eiji the prisoners or Kei and Asahi.

Miki: ... What?

Jackalope: Or, you know, Kei and you, Eiji and Asahi, whatever.

Miki: W-what? Why?

Miki: W-why would you have a problem with making that choice?

Jackalope: Well, I think you already know the answer.

Jackalope: I mean, you all are murderers in some way.

Miki: ...

(sound of Miki falling on the floor)

Jackalope: Aw, don't look so sad. You already knew that-

Miki: But I.. But.. 

Miki: B-but Marito is alive! He's here! I didn't kill him!

Miki: I still think I'm a terrible sister and he deserves someone better than me, but..

Jackalope: Oh, Miki, you know I'm talking about someone else.

Miki: ...

Jackalope: We both know that Marito wasn't your victim.

Miki: ...

Miki: Well, Eiji-san can't be a murderer. He's too good for that.

Jackalope: "Good"? *laughs* You're way too pure for someone like him.

Jackalope: You seriously think a normal guy would have so much fun punishing everyone? And would be so experienced with coming up with ways to torture people?

Miki: E-even if he did kill someone, I'm sure he had a reason-

Jackalope: And so what? He's still a murderer.

Jackalope: You are a murderer. He is a murderer. The prisoners are murderers too. 

Jackalope: Milgram doesn't care about how you guys did it and why. You all had something to do with someone's death. Whether it was a direct murder, whether it was driving someone to suicide, whether it was causing someone's death by inaction, whether it was an accident, whether it was self-defense, this prison doesn't care.

Miki: .. But this isn't how a normal prison works. This isn't how normal trials work.

Jackalope: And you already know this place is anything but normal.

Miki: .. Is Hiyuu-san also a murderer?

Jackalope: Hm.. Kind of, but not really. Though he is partially responsible for someone.. almost dying.

Jackalope: And because of you and Eiji being more.. direct, we made you two wake up first.

Jackalope: Actually, if we count the fourth one, he was the one who woke up first, but.. There was a reason for that.

Miki:"We weren't the ones who woke up first?!"

Jackalope: There also was another reason why we went for the siblings, but this one.. Yeah, I'm not going to talk about it much.

Jackalope: So let's just say, it would be easier for us to make some.. changes to the trial.

Miki: "Changes"?

Jackalope: Well, for example..

Jackalope: If you keep asking more questions, maybe one day you will be the one waking up in a prison cell and waiting for your brother to judge you.

Miki: B-but you were the one who decided to tell me all this!..

Miki: Wait..

Miki: What.. does this all mean?

Miki: Actually, who are "we"?

Miki: You're wearing what looks like a guard uniform.. But I don't think you're one of the guards..

Jackalope: Haha, no, I'm not the fourth guard-

Miki: THEN WHO ARE YOU?!

Miki: WHO ARE ALL OF YOU?!

Miki: WHO IS RESPONSIBLE FOR ALL THIS? WHY ARE WE HERE?

Miki: JUST ANSWER ALREADY OR I WILL K-

Miki: ...

Jackalope: See? You all are murderers. Simple as that.

Jackalope: Oh, right, it's time for you two to properly meet each other.

Jackalope: I know you two have already met in person..

Jackalope: Even though I had told him not to leave his room..

Jackalope: Anyway, meet the third guard of the Milgram prison: Kuroki Hinode!

(the door opens)

(sounds of Hinode's steps)

Hinode: I really could just use a screen for this, but it'd be very rude..

Hinode: Hello, Miki-san. It's very nice to meet you again like this.

***

Jackalope: So, how are you doing?

(silence)

Jackalope: Not good, huh? Understandable.

Jackalope: But hey, at least it was Yurika who broke your arm. I can't imagine how you'd react if it was Kei.

(silence)

Jackalope: Well, I doubt you'll be able to participate in the voting process this time. 

Jackalope: Anyway, see you-

Eiji: .. Judge..

Jackalope: Hm?

Eiji: I still.. 

Eiji: Need to judge them..

Jackalope: Hey, I admire your diligence, but we already have a guard with health problems, so-

Eiji: Well, what else do you expect me to do?!

Eiji: I'm not just gonna lie here!

Eiji: If I can't judge them, WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?!

Eiji: I FINALLY KNOW WHAT I WAS BORN TO DO! I KNOW WHAT THE PURPOSE OF MY LIFE IS!

Eiji: JUST LET ME DO MY JOB ALREADY!

Eiji: !

Eiji: .. It hurts..

Jackalope: *sighs* I really wish you could be more obedient. Why can't you just follow the others' example?

Eiji: .. Did you do something to me?

Jackalope: Huh?

Eiji: Nobody can touch Miki. But they can touch me perfectly fine. 

Eiji: And if I remember correctly, this started to happen only when the second trial began.

Eiji: So.. Again, did you do something to me?

Jackalope: .. Seriously, why do you remember our first meeting so well?

Jackalope: Now, where was that thing.. 

Jackalope: Right. Anyway, you'll forget everything in like five minutes, so I can just say it to you right now.

Jackalope: Eiji, I mean this in the nicest way possible. 

Jackalope: Your punishments are creative. I really wish I could see you punish more prisoners after the first trial.

Jackalope: But no, there wasn't even any fight between you and Miki. You've just let her save like seven prisoners.

Jackalope: So, uh.. You don't really make a good guard.

Jackalope: And you didn't give us the result we wanted, so..

Jackalope: Yeah, this is your punishment.

Eiji: ...

Jackalope: Anyway, have a nice dream.

[thehealingsystem]

gonna reveal myself as a fake mcr fan danger days I'm not much of a fan of I haven't ever read killjoys and I don't listen to gerard way's music

[handsomethrowrug]

I've been thinking about the art I reblogged earlier. It's been in my drafts for weeks because of how important I deem it to be, but I wanted to wait until I felt I had time to actually write about it.

At the end of the day, K.ovu's legacy is wild to think about. He was raised to be an heir, the so-called 'chosen one' of the tyrant king. It's so much a part of who he is, it's literally his name. There's this looming shadow over him, and the expectation that he's going to grow up and take S.imba's place as king.

But... From the little that's seen, I get the impression that K.ovu knows barely anything about S.car, which is odd when you consider Z.ira's, well, her everything.

K.ovu knows he looks like S.car, but not necessarily how much. He was praised for his intelligence, but might not know any other instances outside of S.car's cruelty. He clearly doesn't hold the dead lion in high praise despite it all, and is quick to change his mind once someone actually talks about S.car.

All of this is not even considering the crux of the matter: what S.car actually thought of K.ovu. Was he actually the chosen one? Was a positive comment made about how hearty the newly born cub looked? On this blog, I do have it that he did consider K.ovu being the 'face' of the throne, but there wasn't much time to allow him to observe all the cubs and make a proper decision or put his plans into motion. We know from the musical that S.car did desire an heir, but it seems unlikely that he would favour a cub that wasn't his ("Immortality will be mine!"). Without any sort of flashback, and with the first movie made without any consideration for a sequel, we can only take Z.ira's word. Personally, it's not the most reliable, and so we'll never actually know whether she speaks the truth, or whether she seized the opportunity with a visually similar cub to grasp at power, since we know for a fact that K.ovu is not S.car's.

Perhaps, ultimately, it's a distorted version of S.imba and M.ufasa, where a path ahead is set on the cub's 'destiny'... But the difference is that one had the opportunity to learn what precisely that path was from the king in question.

After all, an heir doesn't choose his destiny when assigned to follow in the par-prints of those who came before them. An heir is told to follow the status quo and uphold particular ideals, because these are what is considered 'normal' in their upbringing.