#all aggressive feelings toward editing displayed in this work are entirely my own

[rainingpouringetc]

Alastair was going to strangle somebody. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or maybe it was the way he couldn’t turn his head to the left without it aching, or maybe it was just the utter incompetence he found himself surrounded by these days. Whichever way, someone was going to pay for fact that none of their project footage was organized, making it completely impossible for him to find the clips he needed for this editing endeavor.

This wasn’t even supposed to be his field. Directing, yes—and he’d done that, he had directed the whole short film, had poured his fucking heart and soul into this project. Acting, sure, though he was much more comfortable behind the camera than he was center screen. He would even go so far as to say that he didn’t mind dabbling in the storyboarding and scriptwriting aspect of filmmaking, either, and was willing to help in that area however possible.

But editing was the devil’s game, and Alastair knew he was going to lose sorely in this round. 

It was less than twelve hours until their deadline for the film festival, and the rest of his group was nowhere to be found. Alastair had called, texted, and emailed his way to a low phone battery, and still he couldn’t get in contact with any of them. He fought through the fog in his mind to remember who was supposed to be editing this project. It was someone from his scriptwriting class—Alicia, a last-ditch addition to their pathetic freshman group of five whom Alastair had offered up as an option after learning she had edited all the videos for her high school football team’s instagram page last year.

What a great idea of mine that was, he thought miserably, jamming the CMD+Z buttons on the media lab Mac, hunched over and defeated as the timeline tried to right itself. He couldn’t get the pacing of this scene right for the life of him. Everything he tried was either too fast to garner any real emotion or so slow that it seemed to drag on for eternity. There was a shot he was sure could make this scene a hundred times more effective, but nothing was labeled properly and it wasn’t sorted in a way that made sense to anyone but fucking Alicia.

Alastair had thought the hardest part was over. They had written the story from scratch over night and filmed it the next morning. They were even able to record some Foley and ADR, filling in the gaps they had missed during the original shooting. The plan from there was to meet at the School of Comms building this morning after breakfast so Alicia could get to work on editing together the footage she’d saved on Alastair’s hard drive and they could all have a say in the final product. 

But since when did things go right for Alastair?

Frustrated and half wondering if it was too late to withdraw from the contest, Alastair slumped forward and laid his head on the table he was working at in the media lab. Perhaps he just needed a break. Just a few minutes to himself to breathe and let go of everything bothering him. 

Or maybe he needed to put his head through the wall. It was difficult to tell which sometimes.

“Alastair?”

Yup. Definitely the head through the wall. That was the one.

Alastair picked up his head and lifted his gaze to the man who had just entered the lab. “Hey, Thomas,” he greeted, trying not to sound too much like he was thoroughly dying inside. 

Because he was, for the record. The man he’d been trying to keep at arm’s length for fear of falling hopelessly head over heels for had just walked in on him about to have a nervous breakdown. And to think Alastair had believed the day couldn’t get any worse.

“What are you working on?” Thomas asked, dropping into the chair next to him and logging into the computer. Thomas was a double major, music and photography, so their paths didn’t cross often, much to Alastair’s simultaneous relief and vexation.

“My group for the forty-eight hour film festival was supposed to get together and edit our project,” Alastair said as evenly as he could. “Unfortunately, it seems they’ve all left me to fend for myself, and now I’m stuck sifting through all our footage by myself without a clue of how to piece it together in time for the deadline.”

Thomas frowned, a little crinkle appearing in the skin between his eyebrows that told Alastair he felt truly sympathetic. It was absolutely adorable and should not have lifted Alastair’s spirits nearly as much as it did. 

“That’s rather awful of them,” Thomas said, navigating the computer as he spoke. He opened Photoshop and began importing his photos. They were absolutely splendid already from what Alastair could see—he couldn’t imagine how wonderful they would look after Thomas finished touching them up.

“Yes, well. I’d rather suffer through the agony of editing it myself than beg someone else for help.” 

Thomas grinned. “You film majors and your unshakeable pride,” he quipped. “No wonder your group left you to your own devices.”

Alastair clutched dramatically at his chest. “You wound me with your cruel words, Thomas.”

He received an eye roll in return, and, no, stop, you’re not meant to engage—he was definitely too far gone for this man already.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Alastair slowly being driven to madness by the inscrutable timeline, the unorganized footage, and, above all, the man sitting right next to him. 

It all became far too much, and Alastair was convinced he would combust if he sat still another moment longer. With a few resolute clicks of his mouse, he saved the work he had done and logged out of the computer. He checked his phone: almost noon and still no replies from any of his group members. Oh, well. He had better things to do with his time than wait here for them.

“Do you have lunch plans, Tom?” he asked before he could let himself think too hard on it.

Looking a bit taken aback, Thomas shook his head. “No. I was thinking of stopping by the smoothie stand after I finished with these photos, but...” He chuckled. “Well. I’m not quite in the right mood for homework right now anyway. Do you wanna go to Joe’s?”

Alastair smiled at the mention of the dining hall—it was what he was going to suggest, after all. Joe’s had fantastic french fries and outdoor seating, making it one of Alastair’s favorite spots on campus. “That sounds marvelous. Perhaps by the time we’ve finished our meal, my traitorous partners will have finally reached out to me.”

Thomas laughed as he stood, deftly closing out of the windows on the computer and shutting it down before stooping to grab his messenger bag. “Hopefully we can at least take your mind off things for a few hours,” he said with a wink, moving to hold open the door for Alastair.

Yup, Alastair thought dizzily as he aimed a smile at Thomas and turned off the media lab lights. Head over heels for sure.

[smokeybrandreviews]

Smokey brand Movie Reviews: Under Pressure

I’m a huge fan of Samara Weaving. Chick has the range on her. She is, apparently, pretty accomplished in the film game, getting her first run in the states as Heather in Ash vs. The Evil Dead. While i did check out Ash, it was long after the show was canceled so my very first introduction to Samara was with Netflix’s The Babysitter. I loved this movie and she was excellent in it. It wasn’t the best but it was fun enough for me to recommend it to anyone listening. Towards the end of last year, i heard rumors of a sequel and then nothing for a long ass time. Today, however, that f*cker dropped and i just HAD to check it out. Will The Babysitter: Killer Queen hold up against it’s surprisingly entertaining predecessor? We ask the big questions here, on this blog.

The Good

It’s super dope seeing where these kids ended up after the first flick. I really enjoyed the characters the first time around so double-dipping into to this world was a real pleasure.

I’m not a huge fan of McG’s directing style but dude has his own flavor. You definitely know this is a McG flick, for sure. Sh*t is like watching a comic book in real life. It’s kind of chaotic and a little ADD, but for this story? It works perfectly.

I really like the dialogue in this flick. It feels Diablo Cody-esque but not all pretentious. I wouldn’t go so far as to say it’s organic but it’s palatable. McG has a knack for infusing his films with a decent amount of humor and it really shows in this script.

The kills in this thing were exquisite, much better than the first. The CG blood was a little much but i absolutely enjoyed the gore. I’m not usually a fan of the sloppy but, in a film like this, that’s the biggest draw.

My mans still has no shirt. Continuity!

The cast is still amazing. Bella Thorne, King Bach, Hana Mae Lee, Samara Weaving, and Robbie Amell are still as hilarious as ever but i really like the new additions. I was a little surprised where characters ended up and the inexplicable resurrection of others was a little much, but it’s all in service to a rather forced narrative so it’s cool.

Judah Lewis as Cole Johnson is as spry and hilarious as ever. Dude was the best thing about the first flick, he and Samara, but i adored this kid, specifically. He had some... Interesting character development but his bad-assery is still intact when the pressure is on. Always a pleasure seeing my guys get their shine.

Emily Alyn Lind as Melanie was also as awesome as ever. She made a pretty aggressive heel turn for this entry but chick pulled it off. She’s not as playful or adorably wicked as Bee, like, not even close. Melanie is a straight up psychopath in this and i was real surprised. It’s like she’s channeling Snakebite Andi and it totally works.

Jenna Ortega as Phoebe is an absolutely welcome edition to this cast. She’s amazing and cute and absolutely brutal. This chick is as capable as Cole and it really shows. If they make this a trifecta, i hope she comes back. Ma was the best thing about this movie, just like Cole was in the first.

The pacing of this movie is on straight up meth, man. It definitely has someplace it wants you to be and it’s running full steam ahead, not stops. This is also a thing in McG movies; Dude has next to no subtlety or nuance but, sometimes, that’s fine. For this movie? It’s perfect.

But that Apache dance break, tho!

The Bad

All of the heartfelt, emotional, scenes in this thing feel out of place. It’s crazy tonal whiplash when placed next to the over-the-top violence, spastic editing, and weird ass interludes that have nothing o do with anything.

I had to adjust the settings on my TV because McG’s penchant for over-saturated color grading is on full display. I don’t know if it was just me or whatever, but these daytime shots feel bleached the f*ck out.

This thing feels like one big ass music video. Like, I'm not mad, but it’s very obvious the soundtrack to this flick has been weaponized to distract. You barely get more than a few seconds of any one song and it kind of gives you lyrical whiplash.

I don’t really like where Cole ended up, especially after his actualization after the first. It feels... forced? Yeah, forced is good. I think Cole needed to be nerfed in order for this entire narrative to be a thing. I don’t agree with it, but i understand it.

There are several plot holes that just go unaddressed. It’s kind of a problem, especially at the end where certain events occur that directly contradict things that were

The Verdict

I loved this movie, man. I was already a massive fan of the first but this one is pretty fun, too. I said fun, not good. As a film, objectively, it’s all over the place. There are several choices made that just boggles the mind. McG feels like the store brand version of Edgar Wright and that is no more apparent than how he decided to present this narrative. I’m not mad at it, i rather enjoyed my time with it, but, i mean, Scott Pilgrim is a thing and it does what this movie tries to do, infinitely better. Still, for what it is, this film is fun watch. Great performances, incredible energy, dope music, hilarious dialogue, legit gore; It’s just a bloody grand old time!

[ofgoodmenarchive]

The third in a series of drabbles exploring my Blood Mage!Dorian.

Seasonal/Festive edition with gift-giving and psuedo-ice-skating.

Deathly Courtship

Another restless night spent in a grimy hovel- an especially restless one this time. Dorian was at least thankful his cave was uncharacteristically dry for Ferelden. It would have made the hours of tossing around in his bedding even more insufferable.

He couldn't sleep- painfully alert. Every subtle sound from the wilderness scratched at his insides and the darkness felt not dark enough- agitated by the mildest light.

Whenever he did lose consciousness- or something close- he caught glimpses of the Inquisition camp, as if projected upon his eyelids. He surveyed from above but also lurked its fringes- much closer than he'd dare approach.

The culprit was obvious.

Daylight slivered into his den and Dorian strode outside, unsurprised by what he witnessed.

His shadow was slumped along a rock, boneless-seeming, staring at the Inquisition camp.

  “You've been here all night.” Dorian admonished, flopping to tend the fire. “It kept me awake, you know! And what are you doing lurking around camp? He has his own Spirit, remember?! It might see you!”

It grunted passively, not looking at him.

He rolled his eyes, sparked kindling.

  “You need to learn some patience, is what you need to do.” Leaning back from the flames, Dorian rooted around in his bag. He didn't have anything to really appease his demon but there was salted meat. Not a fantastic breakfast- he was probably still better fed than the refugees.

This time his shadow didn't offer so much as a grunt, intent on watching

Dorian sighed and craned his neck around- below, Lavellan also prepared for the day.

  “There's a way we have to do this, you realise that?” He lectured, cutting meat into chunks. “That's the Southern Chantry down there, or have you forgotten?”

Huffing, Dorian chewed raw flesh and inspected his companion- never moving from it's spot.

  “...If it was up to you,” He considered, shaking his head. “We'd just skulk into his camp one night, sneak into his tent and...”

Trailing off, he furrowed his brow at the creature.

  “Stop that. Stop putting thoughts in my head. We're not doing that.”

His shadow seethed as if in agony, somehow becoming more limp.

  “You're so stupid.” He grumbled, standing. “You saw how he reacted to us. He'll say yes in the moment then be terrified later- as they all are! Because you, my friend...”

He leaned sideways upon the same rock as his demon, frowning at Lavellan and gnashing bloody meat.

  “...come on far too strong.”

It exhaled in dramatic anguish, one with it's perch.

Dorian rolled his eyes again.

  "If I didn't know any better...I'd almost say you're lovesick."

The demon had no comment but it's offense was palpable through their bond. Dorian snickered, continuing to mull over;

  “What we need...is to provide something- a gift, something useful! That's how everyone else slinks into his good graces, no?”

It harrumphed, unconvinced. Dorian ignored this, retrieving his staff.

  “Well we're not doing things your way! You forget we're also betraying the Venatori. They're not going to be happy about that, are they? We're going to need a place in the Inquisition to survive- which we won't get if you can't pace yourself!”

Muttering to himself, Dorian sauntered down the slope, knowing his demon would have no choice but to follow.

  “You're going to have to get used to looking in my mind, too. I can't be talking to myself so bloody much! The Venatori don't care, they just think I'm mad. The Inquisition however, might have something to say about-”

Interrupted by an abrupt crash of bristling fur- a wild wolf. Dorian was tackled and with a snarl, kicked the beast over his head. Positively annoyed, he spun around and crushed its skull with the one upon his staff, spitting-

  “Wolves! Bloody wolves everywhere- I can't even finish a blasted sentence!” He licked red from his weapon without thought. “...Don't the Dalish have some superstitions about wolves? Sort of a whole...guardians of the Beyond, sentinels of death- that sort of thing?”

He blinked towards his shadow- observing neutrally. It shrugged.

  “You know- the Dread Wolf and all that! Fenharel, or whatever!”

It's head tilted, clueless.

  “This is why I make the decisions around here, you know...” Dorian scoffed, peering down at the fallen creature. “In fact...I think I have an idea.”

--

Crisp, morning air welcomed Evallan when he opened his eyes. His room in Haven was warm- intolerably so, for someone acclimatised to sleeping in the cold outdoors. Therefore a window near his bed was always ajar, mountain chill guiding him awake before anyone else.

They'd returned to restock supplies, rest and exchange personnel. Already he craved wilderness- while they traipsed over hills and through caves, it was easy to distract himself.

Suffocating in luxurious sheets, Evallan was acutely aware of how far from home he lay.

He wondered if his brothers were rising for the day- or if they'd become slothful without him to direct. After all, he was the 'Eldest' Lavellan- a title that meant nothing here but that appointed him some vague authority among his people.

Perhaps Villyen- being younger and less focused- would whine to Amrallan for them to sleep in. They might finally climb from their aravel bunks for lunch, then perhaps Amrallan would suggest they adventure somewhere, rather than attend chores...

By this description it was easy to forget Amrallan was actually older than him- Evallan had always been more responsible. He thought of how his brother might handle this 'Herald' predicament, laughing at the idea.

  I will write them again- soon.

For now, he needed to stave off homesickness.

It was too early for serving hands- breakfast wouldn't be prepared yet. That was fine by Evallan- he could only be himself in solitude, and food would do nothing to satiate his cravings.

He craved the freedom of home. Of travelling with his clan, camping in lands too untamed for the shem. Answering to the Creators, and to the wilderness, and nothing else.

This need brought him to the frozen lake, staring wistfully from its edge.

An uncanny sense bothered him- of being observed. This wasn't an unfamiliar feeling- it occurred erratically throughout their time in the Hinterlands. Easily attributed to the Maleficar they'd encountered, he'd become accustomed to dismissing it.

Though he saw no sign of him now- and they were quite a ways from the Hinterlands. Evallan couldn't imagine a purpose in stalking him so far.

  A trick of the mind this time, I think...

He had to confess, a part of him wished otherwise. Evallan found little point of relation between himself and the humans. Therefore, couldn't help but admire a shem mage who lived so wilfully as an outcast. Perhaps he would find common ground with such a man?

On the other hand, Evallan had no guess as to his thoughts. He should be more suspicious. Yet it was difficult not to be sympathetic towards someone who constantly skirted shadows, clearly not wishing to be seen.

Additionally, he tended to discern threats through his Spirit-bond. Lightbringer had voiced no concerns towards the shem's intent, so it was likely not malicious. Evallan trusted her to caution him if that happened to change.

  I see no real sign of him now, in any case...

Indeed the grounds were entirely unpopulated, sky still more dark than light. Glancing around himself to make certain, he then gazed over the ice and considered...

Before hopping from the brittle harbour, skidding upon a smooth surface. He'd been provided heavy, polished boots suitable for a Herald- definitely not meant for this. Evallan wondered if someone would scold him, then reflected how ludicrous it would be if he arrived for breakfast half-drowned.

Deciding to risk these consequences, he slid, kicking feet to gain momentum then straightening, propelled onwards with a giddy laugh. Cool winds lashed at him and he grinned at the wintery invitation, remembering such escapades with his brothers.

Spinning around, he repeated the motion, running until he could simply careen forwards. This time he intended to leap and catch himself- but it had been some time since he'd partaken in something so juvenile. Instead of landing on his feet he met frost on elbows and knees, snorting at his own foolishness. He was lucky the ice held- merely creaking.

Evallan stood and dusted himself off, preparing for another attempt...

Hasty scratches echoed along the ice, gaining his attention. Half-turning, he was assaulted by a pair of large paws and what looked like- veilfire?

His instinct would have been to attack- except the creature wasn't really attacking him. It bounced off and ran a mad circle, panting.

Or at least- it made a sound akin to panting.

Closer examination told him this thing- a wolf- was headless, its neck stitched shut. In place of a skull was a puff of veilfire and it was this that 'panted', billowing with the same cadence as an excited dogs breath.

From what he knew of canine behaviour- which was quite a bit, he was Ferelden- it displayed no aggression. If anything, it was pleased to see him.

  “...Hello, strange friend.” He greeted respectfully, bending to its level. “And where is your master? I do not suppose something as elaborate as you are, comes to be through happy accident.”

The minions 'head' formed a comically large tongue, lolling stupidly.

Evallan rang with mirth.

  “Yes, you are very charming.” He flattered, petting its shoulders. “But that is not what I asked.”

  “Oh, good- he found you!”

A somewhat familiar voice- mostly by the accent. There were not exactly a wealth of Tevinter men among the Inquisition.

Turning, he spied the Maleficar- Dorian Pavus- stood where snow met ice, beaming unreservedly.

Evallan hesitated, voice lost.

Perusing the frozen lake, Dorian inched forward, testing each step. Once confident enough he pushed towards Evallan, in such a way to suggest he'd observed some of the elf's frolicking. There was no time to be embarrassed- the man lost his balance and Evallan instinctively reached out, offering support.

The shem slumped into him with an 'oof', slinging an arm around. Evallan stiffened but allowed it- Dorian was warm, and had a scent like earth and blood. Neither of which he found displeasing.

He grinned upwards, exposing several pairs of sharp teeth;

  “My dear Herald,” Said with exaggerated familiarity. “You left the Hinterlands without saying goodbye- I was absolutely beside myself.”

Evallan blinked at this, not comprehending, awkwardly blushing. He had observed humans to have an odd sense of humour, so attempted to respond in kind.

  “I was...to leave a note on a tree?” He chuckled, tense. “You do not exactly make yourself known.”

  “I do apologise,” Dorian sighed, balancing enough to cling less. “It's not because of you, my Herald- just the company you keep.”

  “They would be suspicious of you, that is true.” He tentatively released the man, seeing him secure on his feet. “But as long as you mean no harm, I would allow none on you.”

The Maleficar roared with laughter, leaving Evallan confused.

  “How awfully noble of you, Herald!”

Slumping to meet his gaze, Evallan still couldn't understand what had amused him.

  “I would assume this is your minion?” He inquired, looking towards the undead wolf- it had been watching in dutiful silence but was quick to roll onto its back, panting again. Chuckling, Evallan crouched to deliver belly-rubs.

  “Do you like it?” Dorian asked, something hopeful in his tone.

Glancing his way, Evallan flashed a smile.

  “Some of the humans would call it unseemly,” He shrugged, continued patting. “But I can tell he is a sweet creature.”

  “He's yours- if you want him.”

Evallan perked a brow, curious.

  “Another method of tracking me, I assume?”

Surprising him- Dorian grinned shamelessly, answering the same way-

  “But of course, my darling Herald, whatever else for?” A laugh rumbled in his chest- it was a pleasing sound. “And to protect you, of course! A loyal companion, who will follow only your order, and be compelled to protect you against any threat.”

Evallan smirked mostly to himself, unfurling but not to his full height- stooping around Dorian's. The creature sat by his heels, leaning into him.

  “Does he have a name?”

  “Fenharel.”

Compelled to splutter in laughter- unable to restrain it- Evallan shook his head.

  “Maker, no! I will not curse the poor beast in such a way.”

Dorian paused, smiling in slow disbelief.

  “So you're going to take him? Did you entirely understand what I just said?”

  “I understood.” He shuffled, somewhat defensive. “But you have saved my people and myself at least once. Therefore, I seem to benefit.”

  “How...pragmatic.” Dorian bore his teeth in another sly grin and Evallan felt incredibly awkward.

Appearing to sense this, the Blood Mage redirected their conversation;

  “So what will you call him, if not Fenharel?”

Evallan regarded the beast for a moment, lowered to stroke its back.

  “Lunis, I think.”

  “Lunis...” Dorian stroked his beard thoughtfully. “That's some...minor Elven god? Something to do with the moon?”

  “Mhm.”

  “Huh...” He tilted his head, feigned a scoff. “Hardly more imposing than 'Fenharel', is it?”

  “If I call him Fenharel-” Evallan choked through mirth. “Any Dalish we encounter will shoot the poor thing on sight!”

  “Well, maybe- but they'll regret it!” Dorian quipped, earning more laughter.

  “Other than to track me...” He questioned- once restraining himself. “Is there a reason you are offering such a generous gift?”

  “Why not?” Dorian shrugged. “From where I'm standing, the Inquisition is the winning horse. I'm just trying to ensure I'm not trampled in the race.”

  “Pragmatic.” He echoed the previous sentiment- then faltered on what to say.

Again catching to his social ineptitude, Dorian bantered;

  “I can't help but notice that sliding around a frozen lake isn't very Herald-like.”

Perhaps he hadn't expected this to fluster him so intensely. Colour burnt his cheeks and a nervous cough erupted from him. Dorian simply observed, smiling in bemusement while Evallan struggled for composure.

  “I, well...” He spewed helplessly for a moment. “I...miss my home, that is all. We tended towards such climates, and would entertain ourselves in foolish ways...”

Dorian nodded, attentive.

  “I have to confess to you, my Herald...it was quite entertaining.” He chortled, teasing and warm. “But I do think I understand.”

  “Yes, of course-” Evallan tried to speak over his unease. “You also find yourself far from home.”

He nodded again but seemed averse to that topic- eyes shifting from Evallan's for the first time.

  “Well, everything always works out...” He said vaguely. “But I should be heading off, I think- I see your fellows beginning to stir...”

It was unfortunate he couldn't invite the Blood Mage to stay, Evallan thought. He might be able to guarantee the man's safety but judging by his skittishness, Dorian wouldn't trust that enough to be comfortable.

  “I do hope you enjoy the gift,” He said in a chipper tone. “Who knows...perhaps you'll give me something in return someday.”

Dragged from his pondering, Evallan lofted a brow, not really thinking of his response;

  “Gifts are not typically given with an expectation.”

  “Aren't they?” Dorian mused, chortling as if to himself. “Well...some of them are in a way, no? Dowries, for example.”

  “I...” He struggled to process what had been said. “...Pardon?”

Which inspired a chuckle from the Tevinter, shaking his head.

  “Just thinking out loud, my darling Herald.” He bowed lowly, with a mock-level of respect. “I must be off- you will take care of our Lunis, I trust.”

  “I will- of course.” He stumbled verbally, not comprehending the exchange.

Dorian just smiled and sauntered back into the shadows, leaving Evallan's heart in his throat.

--

  “I do not know if you should be accepting such...'gifts' from...renegade Blood Mages.” The Seeker admonished, watching as Lunis sped around the Chantry hall- chasing a moth.

  “I sense no ill intent from the man.” Evallan assured, fighting to keep a straight face. “And it is a fine creature.”

  “Does it have a name?” Solas asked from behind his tea-cup, observing warily.

  “The Blood Mage addressed him as 'Fenharel'.”

Solas instantly began choking, spittle flying everywhere. Unable to maintain his facade any longer, Evallan burst into laughter.

  “I know, I know! Do not worry, I told him I would not curse him with such a name. I have called him Lunis.”

  “Yes, far...that is a far more appropriate name, Herald.” The other elf muttered, dabbing tea from his face.

  “I truly cannot fathom...” Cassandra grumbled, leering. “...How you survived the wilderness as a mage child.”

Evallan snorted, genuinely tickled.

  “I had my clan to protect me- and now I have all of you!”

  “A task that will increase in complexity as the days progress, I am certain.” She sighed, not matching his cheer.

[icewindandboringhorror]

Okay, here’s a final answer, just for clarification - 

- 

Firstly, please understand that I’m not angry, and I’m not upset. I just tend to speak very matter of factly, I guess? If I seem cold or something when typing this response, it's not a personal attack towards you or some display of aggression, that's just how I word things sometimes, I don't mean for them to be misinterpreted or want you to think I’m like getting mad with you or etc. Me disagreeing does not inherently equal me being mad about something, it merely means that I disagree, which is an emotion neutral action. If someone said 2+2 = 6, I would disagree, and openly so, but that doesn’t mean I’d also be like, crying about it or upset with them or something lol. 

 I actually even stated so at the end of my tags last time - 

 So, I apologize if you interpreted my tone as being mean, but I was simply trying to be firm and direct in how I said things so you understand that it's a very serious matter, and I didn't want to be light about it. 

There was a bit of jokiness/sarcasm/exaggeration as well I suppose, but again, that’s not an inherent indicator of upset, just the way I speak - especially when your question can be seen as rude to begin with (which usually leads people to care less about faking positive emotions or seeming polite to others. If a person is not polite to you, you’re not likely to watch how you communicate as much or attempt to display high politeness back). My default state is a neutral flatness as I have a very shallow emotional range (shout out to schizophrenia spectrum negative symptoms and other various issues lol), any excessive positivity or “perkiness” or something that I display is just an attempt to be polite and communicate with others in a simple and kindly manner (in real life I’m often seen as too stoic, blunt, detached, cold, etc. lmao, so in general communication with strangers I tend to overcompensate to being excessively polite instead) - but that also means I can accidentally drop that sometimes if I’m being “real” or whatever. 

-

Anyway, now that concerns over my tone have hopefully been explained, I’ll address this issue about your previous ask in a numbered list. Please read ALL of this, if you are actually taking this seriously. If you don’t actually read, in detail (no skimming), this entire response, then this is not even a discussion since you’re not willing to genuinely engage in the first place. -  

-

Firstly, here is the original ask, for reference  ----

 As for how your question can be rude: 

(1.) In my initial response (in the tags of your answer), I asserted various things, mostly that the question was rude, and that it’s not appropriate to ask people, for a variety of reasons. I’ll explain those in more length here. 

My main point is that even asking the question in the first place is rude. It doesn’t matter how specifically you word it, it’s not appropriate. Just like any personal issue. At least in my culture, it’s typically thought of as inconsiderate and inappropriate to ask random strangers personal questions. for example, it would be rude to approach a random stranger on the bus that you’ve never even seen before and ask them why the have the haircut they do, who their sexual partners are, if they’ve just had a death in the family, how well their marriage is going, what their gender is, etc. etc. 

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(2.) On top of this personal boundary issue, another concern would be that the nature of the question itself is baseless -- 

Would you ask a cis woman why they're a woman? Or a cis man why he chose to be a man? Would you ask a straight person why they chose to be straight?

Would you find it acceptable and polite if a random stranger approached you on the street and asked you for an explanation as to why you're the gender you are? Imagine that exact scenario happening to you, and if you would find it odd or overstepping boundaries at all.  

I doubt you ask this same gender identity question to everyone in your life, to your parents, friends, the cashier at your grocery store.  Why is it only certain groups that need to explain or justify their identities to you? Only certain groups that you feel the inherent need to question? It's a double standard which further serves to prove the question itself is unnecessary. 

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(3.) Additionally, in case you're genuinely unsure of tone (maybe you have difficulty reading social cues or something, that’s understandable) I will explain - the way in which the question was asked has certain implications. 

The statement “Why are you nonbinary? You seem like a pretty girl to me”, implies that - due to your beliefs about me/how you see me, you find it confusing that I could have a certain identity that you see as not matching your perception of me, or that you see as an invalid label, and are asking for me to justify or explain myself/my identity to you because of that. 

Even if this implied meaning was not intentional, it is what most people will interpret upon reading the question, and would be a commonly held understanding. There are other ways you could have asked the question which would be less condescending, yes, but again, the other points still stand (like that the question in itself is impolite to ask to strangers, etc.)

Again, revisit the imaginary scenario of a stranger approaching you on the street and asking you why you’re the gender you are - would there not be some of this implication present? For example, say you’re a man - would it not feel as if someone were questioning your manhood, or implying you weren’t truly a man, or must not be a man ‘correctly’, or that ‘man’ is not a valid label for how they see you? Why else would they approach you and ask you in confusion for you to justify your identity to them? The implication is that they don’t see you as a valid man, or at least not how they see a man, and thus are having a hard time accepting that someone like YOU could ever be a real man - that it’s hard for them to believe you are what you say you are, because they see you differently.

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(3.a)  As an additional sidenote (one which I addressed in the tags replying to you initially), your ask (as well as this more recent one) also made certain assumptions. There are plenty of people who ''look like girls'' or 'look like boys' but aren't as they “seem”, even if you're someone who only believes in a “binary biological sex model” (I’ll include some links at the end about this). It's strange to assume someone's body parts or identity just based off of pictures you see on the internet (which often have specific lighting, angles, or in the case of many people are even edited and etc. I don't do this but it's really common nowadays with phone editing apps and stuff). Just because I appear a certain way to you, in no way implies that I have the physical form and traits you assume I have Consider how you may feel invalidated or uncomfortable if people sent you messages assuming personal things about you that are incorrect or that they have no way to possibly know.

 Your standards and perception are also not universal, various cultures and groups have different ideas about what outward traits would make someone considered a “man” or a “woman”, so making your judgement of someone else’s identity based only on your own (extremely shallow, since it’s only from online pictures) perception of them, is also inherently a bit flawed. 

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(3.b-ish side tangent) In extension to this, your ideas and how you view me are likely incorrect. Just as it is similarly true that, from afar, any assumptions I make about you would likely be inaccurate as well. We are strangers.

For example, if you really knew me, you would know that I don’t pride myself in costumes and makeup - It’s a fun creative activity for me definitely, but I feel no pride over it, I don’t do it to look good or seem a certain way, and actually I resent it in a way, because often it feels like people mostly only pay attention to blurry pictures of me looking silly in cheap wigs, but don’t give that same level of engagement to the other more important things I do that I personally care about 100x more, like my worldbuilding and other projects lol. Absolutely nothing against the people who like my costumes, I appreciate them of course!!, and I still love doing costumes - BUT, to imply that it’s a primary source of pride in my life or a characteristic that defines me over other things, would be a mischaracterization. 

Anyone who knows me in real life would certainly list a million other stand-out traits to define me, rather than ‘pretty make up woman’ (most people I know in real life would also not describe me as ‘pretty’ or as a ‘woman’, just for reference lol). 

Your one sided perception of me (which I’ll address in the next section) may allow you to have a shallow idea of me as some sweet pretty costume girl or something, but just know that the reality is more like: I haven’t had much time lately to do costumes because I’m working on a game and other art which I see as much more important, I haven’t bathed or brushed my hair in weeks because of mental illness/functioning issues, 99% of the time I’m not ‘’dressed up’’ - I wear the same pajamas and cardigan that I’ve worn for the past 3 years and barely wash to the point that it’s disintegrating and leaves fabric scraps around the house lol, I have a little moustache right now and a unibrow and other “””non-womanly”””” traits (at least by common media western standards, which is what I assume you go by), I’m excessively analytical, detached, and in real life you would probably see me as blunt and cold and cynical (also commonly missing social cues) - as well as being hugely asocial/ a hermit and mostly lacking the ability to form attachments to others (So definitely not  ~pretty and cute and approachable~ ghgg), I have obsessive compulsive disorder and am regularly so anxious that I’m throwing up and have various other issues - I’m also not Fun or Cool or Spontaneous because I’m too busy being rigid and high strung lol (even before the pandemic, I don’t like to leave the house or interact much at all with others, I’d rather be in my little controlled environment where I don’t have overwhelming sensory information and distractions raising my anxiety constantly),, and my favorite activities are literally all just stuff like pacing around my home alone talking to myself in different voices creating gods and fake religions for my fantasy worldbuilding while I eat boiled cabbage and light little pieces of paper on fire over a candle to help me think - not doing makeup and other Pretty Woman Things. 

Which I don’t want to be too harsh or focus on this tangent too much, since obviously as you don’t know me in real life, these are all things you couldn’t possibly be aware of, and it simply comes with the territory of posting publicly online - so I absolutely don’t blame you for perceiving me incorrectly. If “pretty” pictures are all you see, then that may very well be the only impression that you have. I just personally dislike this certain interpretation some people have seemed to have of me (you’re not the first person to think of me as a Pretty Makeup Girl or whatever lol), since it’s so completely opposite from the truth of who I am, I feel the need to explain it like this sometimes. Just accepting the false perception some people have of me without any argument feels disingenuous and like supporting a version of myself that doesn’t exist. 

 So anyway, no issue with you personally, but just trying to set the perception of me straight a little more accurately lol.. now, back on topic -- 

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(4.) Lastly, and here’s the main thing I’d like to stress, there's the issue of personal boundaries. Again, you're a complete stranger to me, I don't know who you are, and you have no idea who I am. Even if you've followed me online for years and read every post I've ever made, you still have no idea who I truly deeply am, only a vague scattering of snapshots over time.  

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Here are some definitions for Parasocial Relationships: 

“Parasocial relationships are one-sided relationships, where one person extends emotional energy, interest and time, and the other party, the persona, is completely unaware of the other's existence. Parasocial relationships are most common with celebrities, organizations (such as sports teams) or television stars.”

“Parasocial interaction (PSI) refers to a kind of psychological relationship experienced by an audience in their mediated encounters with performers in the mass media, particularly on television.[1] PSI is described as an illusionary experience, such that media audiences interact with personas (e.g., talk show host, celebrities, fictional characters, social media influencers) as if they are engaged in a reciprocal relationship with them. The term was coined by Donald Horton and Richard Wohl in 1956. “

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This is all anyone can ever have with people they follow online. You can perceive them, but you cannot know them or truly understand them. I think this is very important to remain cognizant of in such a massive social media age, as often times people are fostering one sided concepts that are inaccurate or unhealthy (no so much with just you sending me a simple ask, but in a broader sense, how people act towards celebrities, other bloggers, etc. etc. seems to have little boundaries, and often results in a similar manner with people forgetting to maintain acceptable boundaries with those they follow or know about from afar). 

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-- This next part is very important, I think it’s a super valuable way of thinking about this sort of stuff, so if you take away nothing else from this, at least remember this next portion -- 

A very good way to think about online boundaries that I heard someone mention in a post once (though I can no longer find the post), is to take whatever you're going to say to someone online, and imagine saying it in person, in real life, to a barista. Before you send an ask or make a comment, think about if it’s something you would really genuinely say face to face to a stranger. 

Would you walk into a random Starbucks and ask the dude at the counter a bunch questions about their gender identity? Or about his personal life in general? You probably recognize that that would be strange and socially inappropriate. It's similarly inappropriate in a case like this. 

Even though you may feel a sense of familiarity with someone online from reading their social media posts, or even speaking to them once or twice through asks and etc. etc., at the end of the day you don’t really know each other much more than you’d know a random stranger. 

Unless someone is inviting personal questions (like by reblogging those ‘ask me anything’ posts or etc.), or has the sort of blog where they are commonly asking people about/discussing their own intimate personal experiences or etc. (mine is not this way), then questions like this are very out of the blue and similar to asking a random person working at a store things like that. It can be seen as rude and inappropriate in general to give those sorts of questions to people who are complete strangers, and typically comes off as crossing personal boundaries. Again, think about a random stranger asking you these questions, and how you may perceive it. 

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In summary: 

1. The question itself is borne from an double standard and isn't very good to ask in the first place. 2. The way you asked the question was worded  with certain implications. 3.  Your ask is also assuming certain things that you don't know are true, which can be uncomfortable for some people. 4. Even were it not for the three other things, it's commonly considered rude in many cultures to ask serious questions about the personal details of complete strangers, even if it's online. It could prove useful to utilize the ‘barista test’ to better determine this in the future. 

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Final Thoughts: 

Anyway, I wasn't mad and I have no beef with you or whatever lol. Hopefully you can understand what I mean. I've also explained myself as well as I think I can though, so I don't feel like discussing it any more and won't respond to further asks about this. I have a lot of things going on in my life right now (as I'm sure everyone does given the pandemic and everything, you probably do too, so hopefully you can empathize with that), so I’d like to limit my time spent online, especially discussing topics I already don’t like to discuss or am not open to accepting questions about (I just want to talk about cats and elves and stuff lol). 

 If you still can't at least kind of get where I'm coming from then it's perfectly fine to just agree to disagree. If aspects of myself upset you or cause you discomfort, then there's no harm in just unfollowing me or something! Or if you don't even follow me, I would encourage you to block me so my posts no longer come across your dash (or block/unfollow me on whatever other social media you may be seeing my posts on ,etc)., etc. That way you don't have to see content or hear from someone who makes you uncomfortable that way, and there also won't be any need for this to come up in the future. Part of using the internet in a healthy and productive manner is to know when to disengage with certain content and just cut it off/unfollow/block people/etc. if it’s causing you unnecessary conflict or distress, or makes you uncomfortable or etc. to look at. Thank you for the question! Hopefully this response explained things a little better. 

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Links and Further Info: 

On the off chance that you were genuinely curious, here are some resources where you can learn more about people of different gender identities and also hear them explain their experiences, etc.  Since these people are actually openly discussing their experiences/making educational content and are obviously actually open to talking about it,  that would be a better place to field any further questions or learn about things. :3

Here’s some reading - 

Understanding Nonbinary People (link)

Gender Variance Around the World (link)

12 Questions About Nonbinary Gender Answered (link)

About the Sex Binary (link)

Ask LGBT subreddit (link)

one ‘ask a nonbinary person’ blog i found (I don’t know if they’re still active, it’s one of the first ones that came up for me lol, but I guess could be helpful) (link)

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And here’s some videos with people talking about their experience, or being educational - 

(NOTE: I just did a quick google search and did not deeply research these people and their entire histories and etc., so I can’t say I stand by literally everything they say or know what type of people they are, but it’s just a general place to start~!)

A video examining the idea of gender in general and how it even exists and nonbinary people (definitely interesting to watch) (link)

video about nonbinary gender/explanations (probably at least watch this one too) (link)

What is a nonbinary gender? (shorter general info) (link)

answering all your nonbinary questions q&a (link)

Video about binary sex/gender/etc. (link)

5 nonbinary people explain what nonbinary means to them (link)

another video about similar stuff (link)

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[lesgetittkookie]

wonderwall - jeon jeongukk (I)

this photo does not belong to me. credits go to whoever created this edit. 

⤖ genre: fluff, smut, angst

⤖ pairing:  tattooartist!jeongukk x reader

⤖ warnings: unprotective sex, oral sex (male & female receiving), fingering, dry humping

⤖ summary: a story in which you meet a boy who turns your boring world upside down

⤖ word count: 9.4 k

⤖ author’s note: this will be a small series with parts that i plan on updating for the next few weeks. would love for you to support me with some feedback bc im curious about what you guys think. thanks. 

update: any words that are underlined within the text will lead you to a visual. in this part, it would be the outfit in case you want to see how it looks!

Wonderwall 

won • der  • wall, adjective 

Someone you find yourself thinking about all the time; a person you are completely infatuated with. 

++

There was a harsh ray of sunlight hitting Jeongukk’s face that causes him to blink his eyes open from his deep sleep. He lets out a low groan as his face scrunches up in annoyance due to waking up so early with a pounding headache.

He leans up on his elbows, rubbing the corner of his eyes tiredly with one hand as he adjusts to his surroundings. He looks around the unfamiliar setting, wondering where he was but that cluelessness quickly dissipates when he notices a girl lying next to him in bed with the lack of clothing.

He hisses, cautiously and slowly getting up the bed without making any noise. He looks around for his pants and briefs, noticing that a sock is missing from his foot as well. He finds his briefs hanging from the doorknob somehow while his jeans were in the corner of the room.

He quietly pulls them both on, wincing when the floor creaks beneath him and the girl stirs in her sleep. He panics when he doesn’t find his shirt anywhere, looking around the room in a silent frantic. 

He gives up on finding the shirt, saying fuck it because he has nothing to lose. At least he found his pants because walking out in public with his dick hanging out is worse than no shirt.

Making sure he’s got everything else, he leaves the apartment in a haste without looking behind. As he walks out of the building, there are people around that give him odd looks most likely due to the lack of his shirt. The ink engraved onto his skin that almost covers up his entire upper body are on full display. However, Jeongukk does not feel embarrassed at all.

The boy takes pride in the tattoos on his body, loving the way it looks on his tan skin. He looks down at his watch, seeing that he’s probably going to be late for work and Yoongi is going to kick his ass because this is like the fifth time in a month.

It takes a moment to realize where he is before he scans the street signs and walks towards the one that leads him to the tattoo parlor he works at. He decides to skip on stopping by his flat since he’s already running late. He probably has a spare t-shirt at his little workstation.

He’s out of breathe once he reaches the parlor, sweat running down his muscular tatted back but he couldn’t care less. He’s two minutes late which is better than being twenty minutes late if he had decided to stop by his place earlier.

He sees an old lady walk by him with a white poodle on a leash and bows at her out of politeness while she gives him a disgusted look due to his lack of shirt and inked skin. He brushes it off, pulling the glass door open.  

“Well look who finally shows up,” Jeongukk’s co-worker slash best friend greets him at the front desk as he holds a pen in his hand. There’s an amused smirk on his face as his large eyes scan over Jeongukk’s appearance.

“Not in the mood, Tae,” Jeongukk grunts, going into the back room to find a spare t-shirt lying around.

“I could tell. Your shirt is missing and do you know you were walking around in public with hickies all over your neck?” He points out, zoning in onto the marks.

Jeongukk’s eyes go wide and he quickly looks into the mirror on the wall, fingers running over the bruises. He lets out a groan, unable to remember if he warned the girl about leaving marks. 

“She really did a number on you huh? It looks like a leech attacked you,” Taehyung says as he observes his neck beside him. He reaches up to touch the marks but Jeongukk quickly smacks his hand away.

Taehyung winces, let out a small ow! and he rubs his hand. “That wasn’t necessary.”

Before Jeongukk could speak, another deep voice interrupts the two that causes Jeongukk to freeze in place.

“I see you’ve had a busy night Jeongukk,” His boss, Yoongi says with a judgmental tone.  

“Hyung, I’m sorry,” Jeongukk apologizes, avoiding his narrowed eyes.

Yoongi lets out a sigh, “Whatever, Jeongukk. Your client is gonna be here in five so wash up and put on a shirt.” He doesn’t say anything else, turning around and going back into his small office.

Taehyung lightly smacks Jeongukk’s back, causing the younger to wince in pain.

“Also remember that we’re leaving early tonight for that job.” Taehyung reminds him as he goes to his station.  

Jeongukk furrows his eyebrows, confused as to what Taehyung is talking about. He pulls the black shirt on and runs his hands through his messy black hair.

“What job?” He asks him.

Taehyung lets out an exasperated sigh, “I told you it’s the one where we both have to be servers at this huge party. The man who owns Sapphire resorts is having it for his daughter who just came back from studying abroad in London. She’s suppose to take over the company soon so it’s like some celebration.”

Jeongukk only recalls some of what Taehyung had said the previous time he brought it up. It completely slipped his mind that it would be so soon and now he’s dreading it with his hangover.

“Do I have to go?” Jeongukk asks as he looks at the time on the clock.

“Of course you do. We’re getting paid a shit ton of money. Plus, we’ll get free booze and left overs. I heard the food is being cooked by the chefs of Jungsik Seoul. We can’t even afford an appetizer there with both of our checks combined!” Taehyung’s voice is filled with excitement as he explains to Jeongukk.

Jeongukk doesn’t think he could go near alcohol anytime soon after last night but free quaity food does sound quite tempting. He could also pay ahead for rent and have some extra money that he could send to his mother and little brother. He purses his lips in contemplation before letting out a defeated sigh, “Fine.”

Taehyung who was anticipating his answer now pumps his fist with a  loud, “Yesssss.”

“Remember to wear a black button down and some slacks,” Taehyung informs him as they both glance at the shop’s door that opens with their clients.

“Whatever,” Jeongukk grumbles before leading his client to the back.

++

“I don’t understand why he’s throwing me this party when it’s clearly about him showing off his wealth,” You complain to Jimin as you watch the nail technician apply a glittery nail polish to your freshly manicured nails.

“Maybe he just wants to celebrate that you’re finally home after two years of being away,” Jimin mumbles as a lady massages his face with various creams.

“Or maybe he doesn’t give a shit about that at all and wants to show people how he got what he wanted and his daughter is compliant to whatever he says.” Your voice seeps with bitterness as you speak.

Jimin lets out a sigh, not knowing what to say because he knows that it’s probably true. Your father has hardly ever cared for your wishes and he’s been telling you to do everything he has said your whole life.

You’ve only been back in Korea for a day and your father had informed you as soon as you stepped into the office to greet him that there was going to be a celebration for your arrival and graduating from business school. He hadn’t even came to your graduation yet he wants to celebrate for your accomplishments. His words, not yours.

You had no other choice but to listen without a word because you knew you couldn’t really argue with him. You never win in your arguments with him and it’s  not like you could’ve then too.

“Babe, you could sneak it a little bit after your dad has introduced you. I’m sure he won’t notice. Then we could hang out in your room and drink booze and watch movies. Like old times,” He tries to make you feel better with his suggestion and your mouth slightly lifts up at his words. It sounded like a good way to spend the night.

“Can we also critique art works while we’re drunk?” You plead, watching his face carefully.

Jimin peeks one eye open, turning his head to look at you with a miserable look on his face, “Fine. Only because it’s about you and I’ve missed you so we’ll do anything you want.”

You give him a bright happy smile before looking down at your nails, still dreading for the uneventful night to come.

++

“This is stupid as fuck,” Jeongukk says to Taehyung as he sits down in the older boy’s beat up car.

“Boohoo, it’s just for a night,” Taehyung tells him as he pulls away from the apartment building and starts driving on the road.

“A night of serving food to stuck up rich people who I could care less about,” Jeongukk grumbles while he plays piano tiles on his phone.

“Who knows, maybe you’ll find a hot rich girl to take home,” Taehyung says as he changes lanes.

“I don’t plan on hooking up with any girls tonight. I’m still pissed as fuck because of the girl from the previous night who left hickies all over my neck,” Jeongukk mutters, running his hand over his marked up neck.

“You were probably too drunk to even tell her something so specific,” Taehyung chuckles while Jeongukk keeps his mouth shut, knowing he can’t speak anything in his defense.

“Fuck off,” The younger grumbles, tapping his thumbs against the screen more aggressively.

“It’ll only be a couple of hours and then we can eat, get paid, and leave,” Taehyung tries to make the other feel a bit better.

“Whatever, the food better be good,” says Jeongukk and Taehyung nods rapidly.

“Oh don’t worry, it’ll be good. These people don’t play around. They’re rich as fuck so I doubt they would have food with shitty quality.” The car halts as they near a large hotel where there are fancy and expensive cars being taken over by valet parking.

Taehyung drives his car into the parking garage, turning off the beat up station wagon once they find a parking space. Jeongukk lets out a tired sigh as he unravels himself from the belt and exits the car, following the other boy in tow.

He just wants to get it over with and go home.

++

“Y/N, sit still!” Jimin scolds as he brushes the eye shadow over your lids.

You let out a sigh, gripping the arms of the chair as the boy continues to apply makeup to your face. Guests of the party are already arriving yet you haven’t even put on your dress yet. Jimin, on the other hand, is dressed in head to toe in his designer gucci suit that is embroidered with delicate flower designs and jewels.

“My face feels so heavy, Jimin,” You groan, opening your eyes once you no longer feel the brush tickling your skin.

“I’m almost done,” He promises, applying a berry lipstick to your plump lips. He picks up a brush and sweeps a golden highlight over the apple of your cheeks to make your skin glow.

“Okay,” He spins your chair around so you look into the mirror, “Ta-da, you look so beautiful.” Jimin compliments as he fixes the strands of hairs that fell loose from your little messy bun.

“You did a good job,” You praise, unable to recognize yourself in the mirror.

“Thank you,” He bows, “I’ve had a lot of practice while you were away.” He informs you, running his hand through his silver hair. “Now change into your dress before your dad complains.”

“It’s not like I give a shit about him,” You snort, picking up the satin silk dress that has a deep v dipping down the chest.

“I’m assuming I don’t wear a bra,” You ask him as you observe the outfit.

“Of course not! You’re gonna look hot as fuck in this outfit,” He says, turning away once he sees you unravel your silk robe.

“It’s not like I’m trying to impress anyone,” You say, pulling the dress over your head and fixing it around your chest area when you felt like your cleavage was spilling out. You were afraid to have a nip slip during the party.

“Jimin! Everyone might see my boobs if this slips.” You complain, trying to adjust the silk fabric.

“You look so good though, holy fuck!” He scans over your outfit with a satisfied grin. “Y/N, you need to get laid tonight. If I wasn’t gay, I’d totally bang you.”

“Shut up,” You lightly hit his arm, “Help me fix this,” You pout, letting the boy adjust the straps and cover your goods. He then puts on a thick diamond choker around your neck to complete the look.

“Wow,” Jimin steps back and puts his hands on his hips, “I really did that.” He says proudly.

You roll your eyes, picking up your phone and clutch. Once you grab all of your things, Jimin grabs the room key and leads you out of the suite. You wrap your arm around his, feeling anxious with all of the attention you’re about to receive from the people downstairs.

Jeongukk was tired as fuck and it’s only been fifteen minutes into his job as serving. He’s annoyed as fuck when someone asks him for a specific kind of drink and not the ones he holds on the tray. Just take the fucking rose is what he wants to say but he has to refrain himself from doing so.

Ever since he walked into the room, he’s felt the hungry eyes of many women dig into skin as they hung onto the arms of their rich husbands who were too busy discussing business deals to notice. 

He could care less about the women, just trying to get through the job. He is in no mood to deal sleep with a married woman considering his last experience didn’t end well when he had to walk out of the house with a bruised face when the woman’s husband came home to his wife moaning Jeongukk’s name while he was eating her out. 

He decided he was not going down that route again. Unless he was really in need of sex. 

He could also feel some people stare at him for the tattoos he has on both of his arms and neck. His button down doesn’t really do justice in covering them up as they rise up when he has to carry the tray of drinks. 

Jeongukk was just handing a group of people some wine when there is a deep voice that speaks through the microphone, halting everyone’s chatter. 

People stop to look up at the man who was the reason behind this whole party, holding their expensive glasses of wine and champagne as they watch him give out a small speech. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for those who have attended tonight’s event. This event is a celebration for my beautiful young daughter, Y/N, who as some of you know, just came back from studying abroad at the University of Oxford in London for business school. It was so hard for me when she was away but I’m happy to announce that she’s back and she’s ready to take over my position at the company.” The aged man speaks proudly though the microphone, holding a certain glint in his eyes. Jeongukk stops to watch as everyone holds up their drinks in a toast. “A toast to my daughter and her success!” Everyone cheers and drink from their glasses while Jeongukk just rolls his eyes. 

“Y/N, do you have anything you want to say?” He hears the man ask his daughter and Jeongukk’s eyes wander to the girl. 

He feels his breathe hitch in his throat at the sight of her, a tightness in his chest. It felt like the air just got knocked out of his lungs as soon as he lays his eyes on her. She’s beautiful, he thought. The way her satin silk dress clings to her curvy body, the deep plunge of the neckline revealing a bit of her breasts. There’s a diamond choker caged around her neck that sparkles more than anything else in the room as the lights of the chandeliers cause them to glitter. But what really catches Jeongukk’s attention was her face and the way she did not look as happy as she should. 

He watches as the girl gives her father a small, fake smile as she takes the mic from his hands and says in a soft voice, “Thank you to everyone who attended. I hope you enjoy the rest of your night.” And with that, she hands her father the mic back before looping her arm through the arm of a handsome man with silver hair who must be her boyfriend, Jeongukk thinks. 

He shakes his head, letting out a sigh before taking his empty tray back to the kitchen. There’s no way he would talk to her. She may be just like the rest of the snobby people in this room who are dressed in clothes that cost probably more than his entire rent. 

He gives an annoyed glare when he runs into another waiter that accidentally spills wine over his shirt. 

The scrawny man apologizes profusely, intimidated by the other’s tattoos and piercing eyes and Jeongukk just shakes his head before walking back into the kitchen.

“Y/N, are you really just going to eat throughout this whole party?” Jimin asks you as he watches you stuff your face with the small appetizers at the table. 

“No,” You speak through a mouth full of food, “I’m going to eat and drink for the whole party,” You correct, causing the silver haired boy to roll his eyes. 

“I just want you to be careful,” Jimin pouts while one of his hand reaches up to thumb away the sauce at the corner of your lips. 

“I am!” You tell him, grabbing a glass of wine off the server’s tray when they walk by. “Did you hear what my dad said up there?” Your voice slightly tremors. “I’m taking over his position. Isn’t that great?” There was no enthusiasm or excitement in your tone, just sadness and fear. 

Jimin watches as his best friend unhappily downs glass after glass of wine. “I know, baby. I’m so sorry,” His hand reaches up to rub your arm in a soothing way. He leans forward to wrap his arms around you, “I wish I could do more to help you.” He whispers. 

You shake your head, holding his torso tighter, “You being here is enough for me.” You tell him truthfully because without the support of your best friend, you would be so lost. 

Once you two pull back, you give him a pat on the shoulder. “Please go talk with other people. I know you had your eyes on a cute waiter earlier but you didn’t want to leave me,” You say in a knowing tone. 

Jimin pretends like he doesn’t know what you’re talking about as his eyes scan the room not so subtlety for the young man who he’s pretty sure had tattoos on his arms. 

“Jiminnnnn, I promise I’ll be fine! I don’t want you to feel like you have to stay with me the whole time,” You tell him. He doesn’t need to deal with your mopey mood, knowing that he’s the type of person that likes to socialize with others. 

“What if I’m just staying with you because I missed you?” Jimin pathetically makes the excuse. 

“I missed you too but I’m sure that’s not the case,” You grab his shoulders and turn him around so you could push him towards the crowd of people, “Now go find that man.” 

Jimin lets out a defeated sigh, “Fine but you keep your phone on you and let me know when you want to leave okay? Or if you need anything at all?” His voice is stern as he looks at you. 

“Yes mom, I promise. Now gooo,” You push him away, causing the boy to grumble and fix his suit as he disappears into the sea of people. 

You slightly smile before picking up your clutch from the table and looking around to see if there was anywhere you could sit. You take no interest in some of the people who hold a lingering gaze on your figure as you walk through the crowd. 

Your eyes narrow in on a bar where there is less people, pursing your lips before saying, “bingo.” 

Once you reach the bar and sit down at a stool, you ask the bar tender to give you a stronger drink. Your arms rest on the top as you wait for your drink, tapping your nails against the counter. 

You lightly jump in your seat when you feel someone sit on the stool beside you and they speak in deep honey-filled voice, “Water please.” 

You try not to turn your whole head to look at his face but your eyes scan over the intricate tattoo designs that are engraved into the skin of his arm, trying to make out what they are. 

The man clears his throat as he says a small thanks to the bartender who hands him his glass of water. You look at him confusedly, wondering why someone would want to order a water. 

You build up all of your courage and ask, “Not a fan of alcohol?” 

This immediately causes the man to stop in the process of drinking water and turn over to look at you. You feel his eyes on the side of your face but you don’t turn your head to look at him, your hand swirling the straw in your drink. 

He clears his throat again before looking down at his glass of water, “Nah, just hungover. Feel like I’ve had enough alcohol for the next few days.” 

This causes your lips to slightly tilt up at the sound of his voice as he speaks to you. 

“That much huh?” You say in a mused tone. 

“You have no idea. I came into work without a fucking shirt on,” He grumbles out. 

You snort at his words, turning your head to finally look at him. You feel slightly out of breathe when you scan over his appearance. He has raven black hair with bangs that cover his forehead. A large nose with a perfect slope and large doe eyes with brown irises that stare into yours. Silver hoops pierce his ears along with multiple small pieces of metal that pierce through his skin. He has tattoos that are inked into his neck and both arms, his figure built and lean. He is a beautiful man. 

“I’m sure some people weren’t complaining,” You say, not knowing where you suddenly got the confidence from. 

The boy bites down a smirk but is unable to control it as he feels it overtake his lips. “You think you would’ve been?” 

“Probably not,” Your eyes don’t waver from his face as you take a sip of your drink. 

You notice how his eyes zone in onto your plump lips that are wrapped around the straw. You hold back your own smile. 

“Good to know,” He slightly nods, “So why are you sitting at a bar all alone while there is a party being thrown for you?” He asks you. 

You let out a dreaded sigh, looking back at the ice melting in your drink. “I’d say this party is more for my dad, not me.” 

You don’t know why you’re telling this to a hot stranger but since he asked, you don’t know what else to say. You just feel like if you lie to him, he’ll know so there’s no point.

“Didn’t want to come back?” He asks you curiously. 

“Of course not. I knew the moment I’d be back, all of these responsibilities would be thrown on me,” You answer, mind drifting off to your father’s words about taking over the business. 

“I suppose you’re talking about taking up his position?” He clarifies and you look at him in interest. 

“I want to say yes but I’m worried you’re some undercover journalist who wants to get information from me,” You narrow your eyes at him, “Are you?” You knew that he was most likely not but you wanted to know who this man was. 

The boy snorts, looking down at his tatted arms, “Far from it actually,” He chuckles, “I’m a college drop out who works at a tattoo parlor with his two friends and I was able to be a server tonight to make some extra cash on the side,” He casually explains to her. 

You look at him in surprise, feeling more curious about the boy. “Tattoo parlor? Did you do those yourself?” Your eyes flit down to the tattoos on his arms. 

“Most of them. I designed them and had my friend do the ones I couldn’t reach,” He answers. “You’re not going to snitch on me for sitting on the job?” He asks in amusement. 

You snort, “I could care less. In fact, maybe I’d like it if you kept me some company since there’s nothing else to do at this party...” You trail off, wanting to know the boy’s name. 

He notices your questioning gaze and replies with, “Jeongukk. And I’m assuming your name is Y/N,” He says and you nod. “What about your boyfriend? Couldn’t he keep you company?” 

You look at him in ridiculously, “Boyfriend? I don’t have a boyfriend.” You don’t know where he got that idea from. 

“So the man who walked you down wasn’t your boyfriend?” Jeongukk asks her. 

Realization strikes upon your face and then you look at him with an amused smile, “That was my best friend, Park Jimin, who is very much gay. He saw a cute waiter so I told him he could run off to find him.” 

Jeonguk slightly smiles, nodding his head, “Good to know.” 

“Girlfriend?” You ask him in curiousness, noticing a bruise on his neck. 

“Nah,” he shakes his head, “No girlfriend.” 

You purse your lips before saying, “The hickey on your neck says otherwise.” You point out. 

Jeongukk’s hand immediately reaches up to his neck, rubbing over the mark as he curses under his breathe. “You see that’s from a recent hook up and I was too drunk to notice her making the mark.” 

You believe he’s being honest so you nod understandingly before asking, “You don’t like being marked?” 

Jeongukk looks at the counter top in thought before answering, “I prefer to be the one marking.” He speaks in a slightly seductive and deep whisper that causes a tingle in between your legs as your stomach flutters. 

You feel his warm breathe on your face as his head leans slightly down towards your own. Your own eyes nervously look into his, feeling as if he was looking into your soul. 

“Y/N!” Your hear the sound of your father’s voice calling your name which causes you to quickly pull away from Jeongukk. “Please come meet some of my business partners,” He calls and you let out a sigh, nodding your head but your eyes don’t look away from Jeongukk who stares at you with intrigued eyes. 

“I’m coming,” You call back out, standing up from the stool a little too fast that it almost causes you to tip over but Jeongukk quickly puts his hand on your hip to keep you steady. 

You feel your breathe hitch in your throat as your chest rises from breathing heavy. You look down at the veiny hand on your hip, gulping once he pulls away, touching lingering on your skin. 

“Guess it was nice meeting you?” Jeongukk says more like a question. 

You look down at him with pursed lips, glancing over at your father who was talking to his friends before you quickly whisper down into his ear, “Meet me near the restrooms in ten.” You then stand up straightly again and walk towards your father who smiles brightly, putting his arm around your shoulder as he introduces you to his colleagues. 

Jeongukk didn’t miss the way your hips swayed as when you walked and how your whole backside was on display as the dress had a low dip just above the dimples of your back. 

His knuckles turn white as he grips his glass tightly from the sexual tension he felt when he talked to you. The way your eyes would linger on his tattoos. How your plump berry lips wrapped around the straw when you knew he was watching. How your satin dress clung to your body while your skin glowed under the twinkling chandeliers. You took his breathe away. 

He had noticed you sitting at the bar and purposely decided to sit on the stool next to you, catching your floral scent when he casually asked the bartender for his glass of water. What he didn’t expect was for you to initiate a conversation with him. 

Your voice was soft and delicate when you spoke. He didn’t miss the sadness in your eyes when you spoke about your father. He didn’t expect you to be so open and honest considering he was just a stranger. He also didn’t fail to notice the fire that lit your eyes when spoke about his preference of leaving marks on her skin. 

Although he didn’t plan on hooking up with anyone tonight, that thought completely went into the trash once you started talking to him. 

He felt the excitement bubble in his stomach when he had heard you whisper in his ear that you wanted to see him again in a couple of minutes. Jeongukk decides that he just needs one drink because although he is a confident man when it comes to women, he felt slightly nervous about you. 

There was something about your beauty that he found so ethereal. How you were dressed in head to toe in expensive clothes but your personality quite different from what he expected. He was enamored by your presence around him. 

“Can I get a small glass of whiskey?” He asks the bartender who nods, pouring him a glass. 

He quickly downs the drink, feeling the liquid burn in his throat as he drinks it in one go. The glass slams against the counter, causing the person beside him to flinch but he pays no mind. He wipes his mouth, glancing over to see your eyes catching a glimpse of what he’s doing, a small smile on your lips that he knows is because of how he’s reacting and not because of what the person you’re speaking to is saying. 

He narrows his eyes at you before heading towards the restrooms outside of the hall and away from the people. He completely neglects the job he was suppose to be doing originally, more eager over what you two are about to do. 

Taehyung could get an explanation later.

“Fuck,” You moan against Jeongukk’s mouth as his tongue pushes past your lips to meet your tongue. His hands are running down your sides, brushing over your bare back while yours are tangled in his silky black hair. 

As soon as he had stepped in the hallways secluded from everyone else, not even five minutes later you had came to the area with your hand running down his back which had caused him to turn around only to be met with your lips pressing against his. 

He was taken by surprise when it happened but he quickly got over it and responded to your kiss which had then led you to where you are now: a storage closet where the two of your are making out with your hands all over each other. 

Jeongukk pulls his lips away from yours, grabbing ahold of the sides of your face before kissing his way down your neck. Your head tips back to rest against the wall behind you as you let the handsome man suck a bruise right above your breast. 

One of your hands trail down from his hair all the way across his built chest to the front of his slacks. You’re able to feel his large bulge pushing against the fabric as you rub against it. Jeongukk hisses into your skin but continues to create marks across your chest. 

You feel the strap of your dress slide of your shoulder, revealing your left breast and Jeongukk takes that moment to kiss around your areola before he wraps his lips around your perked nipple. You bite down on your lip to hold back a loud moan so that no one outside of the room hears you while your hand holds the back of his head, pushing him further into your chest. 

His tongue swirls around your nipple before he digs his teeth into your skin, causing the wetness between your legs to soak the fabric of your underwear. 

“Jeongukk,” You call out in pleasure as he kisses your nipple one last time before pulling back to look at you. The both of your eyes meet, appearance disheveled from touching each other. His shirt was halfway unbuttoned, revealing more of his tattooed chest and washboard abs. 

Without a second thought, your finger trails down from the top of his collarbone to his chest, feeling the muscle as it contracts beneath your touch. He leans down to kiss your lips again, addicted to the feeling of your lips on his. 

Your eyes shut as you breathe through your nose, loving the feeling of how his arms wrapped around your waist as he kisses you. After a few more lingering kisses, you pull back to catch your breathe as does he. 

“I want you to...” You start as your hand trails down his chest to his pants, “keep me company for the rest of the night.” You whisper, eyes taking in the designs on his chest. 

Jeongukk exhales through his nose, looking at you with his dark eyes as he allows you to touch his skin. He feels his heart slightly speed up at your suggestion and he wants nothing more than to take you right there. 

But he refrains himself from doing so and asks, “In here?” 

Your eyes meet his against but your hand doesn’t leave his chest. Your mouth lifts up in amusement at his question and you shake your head. 

“I have the key to a suite upstairs,” You inform him and he nods, feeling elated. 

“Well then, let’s go check it out,” He smiles and you lean in to kiss him again because his lips look so inviting. 

He helps you fix the strap of your dress by adjusting it on your shoulder again and you make sure the fabric of the dress is covering your breasts. Meanwhile Jeongukk buttons his shirt and runs his hands through his hair to make himself look somewhat decent when you two walk out. 

Once you grab the clutch your dropped onto floor when you two came in earlier, you open the door and look behind you before looking outside to make sure no one was around before you grab his hand and lead him out. 

The both of you walk towards the elevator in quick footsteps before anyone else catches you and the actions made you feel giddy. 

Once your inside, Jeongukk asks, “What floor?” to which you reply, “Thirteen.” And soon as the button is pressed, he pushes you against the wall, arms on either side of your head as your lips meet in another heated kiss. 

Your hands immediately reach up to grab the side of his neck, lips moving with his as the kiss is filled with lust. At this rate, the wetness between your leg trails down your inner thigh and you could both smell your arousal which only turns on the boy even more as his hips grind into yours. 

You gasp into his mouth, scrunching up his shirt in your hand as you let him grind against your crotch with his own hard bulge. One of his hands move down to your ass, giving it a small squeeze and you moan into his mouth, wanting more. 

“Baby, you’re so hot,” Jeongukk speaks against your mouth, “I couldn’t take my eyes off of you when I first saw you.” He tells her, unable to stop himself from speaking the truth. 

He starts to kiss down your neck again, causing you to tilt your head to the side eyes shutting in pleasure. When you hear the ding of the elevator, they immediately open and you pull back from his lips as you watch the doors open. 

Jeongukk can’t help but hook his hands beneath your thighs and pick you up into his strong arms so that your legs wrap around his waist. Your satin dress hikes up your thighs, revealing your whole left leg due to the slit on the side and you’re pretty sure you could feel your ass peeking out but in that moment you did not care. 

Your arms are wrapped around his neck, lips trailing kisses down his neck as he carries you down the hall. 

“Room 13E,” You mumble, lips sucking the skin of his neck into your mouth. You knew he was the one who likes to mark but you felt the urge to create a bruise so that others could see your work. 

Once he reaches right outside the door, you’re slammed against the door and you quickly reach into your clutch to grab the key card. He grabs it from your hand, sliding it through the lock in a haste and then he turns the knob to push it open. He holds you up against him by one arm, making the muscles in his arm flex as the other works on swinging open the door. 

When you get inside, he wraps both of his hands around your thighs again and kicks the door shut behind him with his foot. You drop your clutch onto the floor carelessly as he leads you to the large king sized bed that is sat in the middle of the room. 

His knees knocking against the edge of the mattress as he drops you onto the bed while he stands above you his lips red from kissing you, hair messy from the countless times you grabbed onto it. 

“I’m gonna eat you out. Do you want that, baby? Do you want my mouth on your pussy?” He asks you and you nod, legs involuntarily spreading open in an inviting manner. 

He unbuttons his hair, feeling the sweat trickle down his neck and you sit up on your elbow as you watch the shirt unravel from his torso to reveal his chest that is covered with tattoos. There is a beautiful large rose on his side with the veins that run across his stomach with thorns and petals. 

You watch as he unbuckles his belt, sliding it out of the loops and throwing it behind him. You don’t fail to miss his crotch area where his bulge is pushing against the fabric. You push yourself up from the bed, knees sinking into the mattress as you grab the waist of his pants. Your lips lick over the fabric of his blank pants, causing Jeongukk’s hand to immediately go into your hair. 

Your eyes don’t leave his as he watches you unbutton the pants with your hands and then pull the zipper down with your teeth. His breathe hitches in his throat as you kiss his cock through his black briefs while your hands completely push his pants down to his ankles. 

Jeongukk grips your wrists, taking you by surprise and he pushes you back against the mattress. 

“Let me taste you first,” He tells you, pushing your dress up your thighs to reveal your soaking thong. He notices your inner thigh glistening as it trails from your entrance and his first instinct is to bend down to lick over your underwear. 

You let out a moan of surprise, feeling the heat of his tongue through your underwear. You tangle your hands in his hair as he sucks on your clit. The heels of your shoes dig into his shoulder as he rub his finger over your underwear. 

His lips trail over your thighs and you feel his warm breathe on your inner thigh, his tongue licking up the wetness that was dripping through the fabric of your underwear. Your chest is heaving heavily as you feel his thumb hook around the side of your underwear and he tugs it down, sitting up so he could completely pull it off. 

He leans down to kiss you on the lips, his bulge touching your pussy and you’re able to feel it clearly through his boxers. You moan, nails dinging into his back as Jeongukk continues to grind against your entrance. 

“Fuck, Jeongukk please,” You moan into his mouth, letting him roam his tongue around your mouth. 

“Please what hm?” 

“Please fuck me, please,” You beg, causing him to smirk against your mouth. 

“Be patient,” He tells you before trailing kisses down your chest until he reaches your entrance. 

You finally feel his mouth wrap around your clit, sucking on it harshly and you thrash against the bed as your heels dig into his shoulders again. You shut your eyes in pleasure as you feel his tongue trail down from your clitoris to your slit, tongue spreading your folds to taste your wetness. 

“Oh fuck, Jeongukk please please please,” You beg, feeling his hand rub over your bundle of nerves as his tongue pushes into your entrance. You feel the warmth of his tongue pushing against your walls, making you cry out louder. One of his inked arms holds you down as it presses against your stomach while the other teases against your entrance. 

When he pulls his tongue away, his finger immediately slips inside of you and hooks around your entrance, causing you to moan even louder. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you let him pleasure until you’ve reached your high. You pull the strap of your dress down, grabbing onto your breast and squeezing it. 

Jeongukk pulls away, lips glistening with your arousal. He notices your hand touching your breast and he adds another finger into you, feeling your walls clench around him. 

His heel smacks against your clit as he fucks into your pussy with his fingers at a harsher pace and you can’t stop moaning out loud. He adds more stimulation by spitting on your clit and then using the thumb of his other hand to rub it vigorously. 

“J-Jeongukk, please, fuck me, please,” You beg, eyes wet because you wanted his cock in you so bad. 

“You’ll get it soon,” He promises, leaning down to wrap his lips around your clit again and sucking on it while his fingers are still fucking into your entrance. 

“‘M gonna come,” Your voice is hoarse when you speak. 

Jeongukk picks up his pace with his fingers and you cry out when you feel yourself reaching your climax, stomach bursting at the sudden rush of electricity shooting down your spine. 

“Cum for me,” Jeongukk says, watching as you let out a loud gasp, throwing your head back. 

You release all over his fingers, feeling overwhelmed by the stimulation. 

Once Jeongukk pulls his fingers out, he drags them to his mouth, sucking on his cum covered fingers while he looks into your eyes. You let out a heavy breathe, eyes trailing down to his boxers that hold his length. You sit up and grab ahold of the waistband, tugging them down. 

Jeongukk watches you carefully as you wrap your hand around his length and rub your thumb across his slit that is dripping with pre-cum. The head of his cock was an angry red, blood rushed to the muscle. He lets out a groan when he feels your lips envelope the head. 

You look up at his face as you trail your mouth up his girth, sucking and tonguing at the head. Your plush lips suction onto the underside of his shaft, the tip of your tongue tracing the vein that bulges there. 

Jeongukk groans out loud, muttering a small fuck, when he feels your lips wrap around his throbbing tip and glide down his cock. He watches you with a heaving chest as your cheeks hollow, swallowing the entirety of his cock into your mouth until he hits the back of your throat. 

You feels your eyes water at the feeling but you don’t stop bobbing up and down, your wrist twisting and tightening around the rest of his cock. He pushes his hair back from your face and tucks it behind your ear as he continues to watch you suck him off. 

When he sees his vision start to turn white, he pulls out of your mouth with a loud pop and it causes a look of confusion to take over your face. 

“I wanna come inside of you,” He tells you, pushing the straps of your dress off of your arms so that it pools around your waist and then tugs it until he could throw it behind his shoulder. 

He was about to ask you if you had a condom but you beat him to it by telling him, “I’m on the pill.” He hesitates before nodding and then pushes you so your back meets the mattress. 

He then climbs over you, holding himself up by his elbows on either side of your head. He leans all of his weight on his left elbow while his right hand brushes across your cheek and he leans forward to press his lips to yours. His hand trails down your body, running over your breast and smoothing down to your stomach. 

His fingers brush of your clit covered in arousal, causing you to moan in his mouth and he takes that moment to slip his tongue to touch yours. He then grabs his cock, rubbing his tip over your clit in circular motions which makes you jerk immediately. You let out another moan, biting down on his lower lip as you push your hips forward into his touch. 

After teasing you for a few more seconds, he slides his cock down your slit, spreading your folds and you breathe heavily as you feel him near your entrance where you ache for him the most. You were waiting for him to slip inside of you and fill you to the brim. 

“Please,” You beg when you only feel his head slide into your entrance. 

“More?” He asks and you could hear the amusement in his voice. 

You nod vigorously, gripping onto his shoulders so hard that your nails dig into them. 

Jeongukk finally decides to slide into your pussy completely, being engulfed by your warm, wet walls. He lets out a groan in combination with a sigh while you whimper, adjusting his thick girth. He pulls back again until only the tip was left in your entrance making your whine which turns into a loud cry of pleasure when he slams back into your not even five second later. 

You pull him closer to you, turning your head to the side as he kisses down your neck while he continues to pound into you. The sound of his hips smacking against yours bounces across the walls and you can’t stop moaning his name as he hits a particular spot inside of you. 

“Fuck fuck fuck,” You cry and he watches your face as it lays against the pillow. Your eyes were slightly smeared with makeup and there was sweat trickling down your silk like skin but he was still entranced by your beauty. It encouraged to satisfy you even more, bringing his hand to your clit to rub it at a fast pace. 

You gasp at the added stimulation, shutting your eyes and chanting yes yes yes over and over again. The boy doesn’t stop thrusting into you, picking up his pace as you feel yourself reaching your high again. 

Jeongukk groans as he feels his stomach churning, blood rushing to his cock and doesn’t stop pulling and pushing back in. He watches the way your pussy swallows his entire cock, spilling out your juices.  

At this point, you’re both sure that the residents in the room beside you might be able to hear you but neither of you pay any mind to them. Your nails scratched against Jeongukk’s broad back and he hisses at the feeling but doesn’t stop you. 

“I’m gonna come,” You whimper, grabbing one of your breasts and squeezing it.  

“I’m almost there. I’m gonna come in your pussy. Is that what you want?” He asks your breathless and you just nod, words unable to escape your mouth. 

He leans down to kiss you again, tongue swiping across your plush lips and you open your mouth again so he could slide his tongue against yours. You could see your vision turn white as you release around his cock, moaning loudly. Jeongukk continues to thrust into you until he fills himself spurt into your entrance, filling your pussy with his load. 

He grabs the sides of your face, holding you closer so your lips move sync. The sound of your kissing lips is now the only thing you two could hear. Jeongukk stays inside of you for a few more seconds as he makes out with you but you both have to pull away to catch your breathe. 

You whimper as he slowly pulls out, watching your cum mixed with his, drip out of your entrance. He falls onto his back beside you on the mattress, running his hands through his hair that is soaked with sweat. The both of you are breathing heavily, eyes shut as you try to calm down. 

You felt him get up from the mattress but you didn’t have it in you to see why. Your hear the bathroom light turn on and the water running. 

With one eye blinking open, you watch him come back with a small wet towel in his hand. You’re fascinated with the way his body moves, muscles flexing beneath his skin and the ink all over his body telling stories that you couldn’t understand. You feel him wipe down between your legs and you sigh in content as he cleans you up. He then unstraps your heels, pulling them off your feet and throwing them onto the floor. 

You were feeling surprised at his actions, never have hooked up with a man who cleans you up as gently as him after sex. Usually you’d have to go to the bathroom on your own and then quietly sneak out. However, Jeongukk didn’t like he was leaving just yet. 

You give him a small appreciative smile as your eyes meet and you see the corner of his mouth lift just a little bit before he looks away. He then turns back around, displaying a huge tattooed dragon on his back that you never saw before. It ran down his entire toned back, details of the design causing your mouth to become ajar. Your eyes glance down at his toned, perky ass and you quickly look away, feeling your cheeks flush. 

Jeongukk walks out of the bathroom, picking up his black briefs from the floor and sliding them up his legs. You then notice him pick up his slacks and shirt, causing your heart to race in your chest. 

Without thinking you speak, “You could stay the night if you want.” 

He halts his actions, eyes meeting yours in surprise. You clear your throat, glancing down at your fingers while you say, “I mean until tomorrow morning. If you want.” 

“You sure?” He asks you, avoiding to look at you. 

“Mhm,” You hum, rolling to the left side of the bed and tugging the blanket over your body. “You could sleep on the bed. I don’t move around too much in my sleep.” 

You shut your eyes, feeling yourself drift off but you were still aware that Jeongukk hadn’t moved. You tried not to turn around yet your heart was racing in your chest when you heard the sound of his feet pad against the floor. 

Jeongukk pulls the blanket back, sliding in beside you with and keeps a little distance between the two of you. You try not the breathe too fast, trying to make it seem like you’ve fallen asleep. It’s hard to believe that not even ten minutes ago, this man balls deep inside of you while you were screaming his name and now you two are awkwardly laying beside each other like a bunch of shy strangers. 

You feel yourself slip into unconsciousness, body completely worn out. However, you fall asleep with a small smile on your face without even realizing it was because of the boy beside you. 

Jeongukk sees your chest rise slowly as you’re in a deep slumber. His mind drifts back to what you two had just done and he could still remember how your breathlessly called out his name while he pounded into you. The way you threw your head back against the pillow and let him take you over and over again. 

When you had asked him to stay, he was taken by surprise. He quite frankly didn’t feel like dealing with Taehyung downstairs anyways but he certainly didn’t think he could stay. He expected you to kick him out a few minutes later but instead you moved over and let him sleep in your bed beside you, clueless to how much you intrigued the boy as you slept soundly. 

He’s not the kind of man that pays too much attention to the women he sleeps with. He appreciates the women’s beauty and loves to show them how much he could pleasure them in so many different ways but he never went passed that extent. There was something about you that drew him in the moment he laid eyes on you and it wasn’t just your alluring presence. 

He couldn’t fight off the sleep that overtakes him and he lets himself be swept away into a world full of dreams. 

You blink your eyes open slowly, scrunching up your face when you feel a light hitting your face. You sigh in annoyance flipping your head to the other side of the pillow so you face away from the window that has the sunlight shining through. 

With your still half awake mind, you remember that there was a body beside yours the night before but is no longer there. You quickly open your eyes, seeing the left side of the bed devoid of a man with the tattooed body. You sit up and see that his clothes are gone from the floor too and the bathroom light is off. 

A cold draft causes you to shiver and you realize you’re still completely nude beneath the blanket. You let out a slightly disappointed sigh, feeling your heart ache because for some reason you hoped that Jeongukk would still be laying beside you when you wake up in the morning. 

He was so handsome. His entire aura drew you in with his skin that was covered in tattoos, brown eyes that would become a shade darker when they’re filled with lust. His raven black hair that brushed across his forehead. The smooth and strongly built muscles of his entire body. He was different from other men you slept with. He took care of you after you had sex, taking his time gently clean you up with his skilled hands. 

You pressed your legs together when you thought about the way he made you come with his tongue and fingers and then again with his cock. You had never felt so much pleasure from another man in your life. He was mysterious and charming. 

You think back to that small smirk he gave you when you flirted with him. You remember how it caused shivers to run down your spine and how you wanted to see more of it.

You drop against the mattress again, your hair splaying around the pillow and you’re mind unable to stop thinking about Jeongukk. 

You were probably never going to see him again. It seems like he didn’t really care to stay either, probably thinking of it as a one night stand. 

Forgetting about him just might be for the best when your two worlds are completely different. 

++

so how was it? 

please let me know what you think so i could continue to write future parts bc i have a lot planned :) 

love, m. 

[fathertaurus]

Bruises -🦋

a/n : hi i’m july and i wrote this in an hour so pls don’t judge me & my mistakes too harshly (also this is my first david smut! wild)

It wasn’t often that David pulled all-nighters, but following a week full of non-stop filming, his general editing schedule had been seriously disrupted. Twelve hours away from his customary posting time, he had nothing more than a memory card full of footage and the promise of a sleepless night on his hands. So, with a huff of air and a passive-aggressive mutter about ‘hiring a fucking editor,’ he made himself comfortable on the couch, pushed the SD card into his laptop, and began the long process of producing the four minutes and twenty (one) second vlog that he’d promised to post on time, no matter what. His last few vlogs had been posted ridiculously late, but he could hardly control how much, or how little, footage he’d acquire from one day to the next. A part of him wished he’d never made that promise, as he casts a longing look toward his bedroom, where he knew his girl would be curled up in the warmth of their duvet, probably falling asleep to the recent VIEWS podcast, but he was too stubborn to let another upload time pass without a successfully edited vlog.

His assumption that Y/N wouldn’t have an issue falling asleep without him made it evident just how ill-educated he was when it came to them having to sleep without each other. The last time they’d spent the night in separate beds was when David made a joke, albeit a funny one, but a joke nonetheless, about their sex life. It wouldn’t have been so bad if it wasn’t for the fact that there had been camera’s pointing at them from every direction, not failing to pick up on the joke as it mindlessly fell from the Slovakian boy’s lips. Needless to say, after a furious argument that ensued the moment they were back home, David was shunned to the couch and Y/N collapsed into their bed, lost in the midst of the blankets as she stared up at the ceiling with bloodshot eyes and splotchy cheeks. Within an hour, Dobrik found himself walking into the bedroom, and found his girl sat against the headboard of their bed with the duvet draped over her shoulders and her phone in her hands. His apologies were promptly hushed when she crawled to the end of the bed and draped her arms around his shoulders, pulling her lips down to brush against her own. It would be bold of anyone to assume that all they proceeded to do was sleep. The subsequent bruises in the shape of David’s hands that painted Y/N’s thighs the next morning told a completely different story.

And so, as a result, they hadn’t ever, with the exception of day-time naps and slept apart since they moved in together. David couldn’t remember what it felt like to sleep without his girl wrapped around him like a koala and, quite frankly, he didn’t really want to. He loved her company just as much as he loved wrapping a hand around her throat and watching her gorgeous eyes roll into the back of her head as he pounded her tight little pussy. He loved the way her smile stretched her cheeks just as much as he loved covering her neck and chest in those tiny, distinctive bruises that told the entire world that she was his. He loved the way she arched her back so perfectly as he ran his fingers down her body, goosebumps rising on her skin as she pushes her head into her pillow with one of those precious little moans that sent blood straight down into his already hard cock.

It was no wonder that, instead of falling asleep as David had assumed, Y/N found herself tossing and turning restlessly, the sound of Jason and David arguing on the latest podcast spilling out of the Alexa that sat on her bedside table. She was wearing one of David’s t-shirts, one of the ones that were long enough for her to be able to wear no underwear without worrying about walking into the kitchen the next morning and accidentally showing Natalie a lot more than she bargained for. Alongside that fact, the shirt smelt distinctively of David’s cologne, the expensive scent lingering even after the garment had been washed and dried. The thought made Y/N keen softly as she turned to look at the bedroom door with a small pout decorating her lips, unable to ignore the growing wetness between her legs as she allowed her PG thoughts to wander into a far more X-rated category. She chewed on her bottom lip as she thought back to a few days ago, swallowing thickly as she cast a coy glance at her inner thighs, which were decorated with fading love bites. The pretty-looking display sent desire directly to her core, which was practically begging for attention by that point.

It didn’t take long for her to walk into the living room, her bottom lip jutted out cutely as David glanced up from his laptop in surprise, only to recognise the bleary, blissful stare in her eyes as she shifted on the spot coyly. He chuckles breathily and opens his arm, silently urging her to come and cuddle into his side, which she did without a moment of hesitation. She sinks into the couch and melts as he wraps an arm around her waist and begins to trace random shapes into her thigh, which had been exposed as the shirt rode up. He was either completely oblivious to the effect that he was having on her or simply didn’t care, as she looked up at him with wide eyes and an increasingly wet pussy that just wanted some attention, only for him to continue to focus on his laptop, not even a hint of emotion on his face.

With a practically inaudible whimper, Y/N can’t help but start fidgeting, continuing to do so until, without even glancing away from the screen, David wraps his hand tightly around her thigh, roughly enough for her to execute a noise of surprise and halt any form of movement. His voice was surprisingly deep as he spoke his next words, not doing anything but making Y/N’s pussy throb. “Keep doing that and you’ll fucking regret it, baby. Don’t test me. I’m busy.”

“Okay,” her easy agreement was enough to make David look away from his laptop with quirked eyebrows, having honestly expected at least a few minutes worth of arguing from her. Instead, she stands up, letting the hand that’d been wrapped around her thigh fall against the couch as, with an angelic smile and no explanation, she reaches down and pulls her t-shirt over her head, letting it fall carelessly to the floor with a faint giggle. Now, completely and utterly naked in the middle of the living room, she sucks her lips between her teeth and she looks back at her boyfriend, who was watching her movements closely, wondering where she was planning to go with this show of defiance. “I like playing on my own sometimes anyway.”

And with those words, it was like a flip switched, and she knew she’d done her job perfectly. David’s already dark eyes darkened, his eyebrows drew together in the centre of his forehead, and his laptop was pushed aside without a moment of delay. Y/N bites her lip, staring at him with those big, doe eyes that could get her anything she could ever dream of having. They both remain still for a long pause, staring at each other until David’s voice travelled through the air, warning clear in his tone. “You know the rules, baby. It’s like you’re asking to be punished.”

Y/N blinks, entwining her hands in front of her exposed body. “What if I am?” She falls silent as she watches David barely react to her words. “Will you punish me, daddy? Make me remember why I don’t need to play with myself anymore?” She whimpers at her own words, eyes bleary as David stands up from the couch and strides over to her, wrapping his hands around her hips, gripping onto her tightly. His actions cause a needy moan to fall from her lips as she tilts her head up to meet his gaze. “Please, David. Please.”

“So needy,” David mutters, narrowing his eyes as she arches her body against his. “Can’t even go a few hours without having my hands wrapped around your throat, can you? Hm?” She stays silent, but the look in her eyes was enough to answer his question. He chuckles breathily, keeping one hand firmly on her hip as he moved his other down to cup her pussy, smirking when she moans and thrusts down into his touch desperately. “You’re practically dripping, baby. Is it all for me? Did you get yourself all worked up thinking about my hands leaving bruises all over you? Because I know that you love it when I do that. I see the way you look at my marks; they remind you that you’re mine, 'n tell everyone else the same thing.”

“I do, I do. I love it so much.” She practically sobs out the words as she moves against David’s hand, desperate for even a hint of friction against her pussy, which was weeping with need against David’s motionless hand. She couldn’t help but throw her head back against the wall when she feels him slide two digits into her heat, her mouth falling open with silent bliss as she writhed in his hold. The hand that’d been holding her hip disappeared without her even realising that it had so, and before she comprehended what was happening, expensive rings and long fingers were being wrapped around her exposed neck, applying the most perfect, mind-blurring amount of pressure.

She was putty in his hands, then, as he thrust his fingers into her pussy and held her against the wall by her neck, leaning in and whispering into his girl’s ear as she squirmed beneath his touch. “Such a dirty little slut, aren’t you? You love it when I choke you, hm? When I fuck your pretty little pussy until you’re begging to cum.” His breath tickled her ear as he spoke, his gruff tone sending unbelievable amounts of pleasure down her spine. “Such a pretty little girl for me. Such a pretty slut. All mine.” Gently, he eases his hand away from her throat and gives her a moment to take a deep inhale of breath before wrapping them straight back around the flesh as she stared into his eyes, silently begging for release as he brushed the pad of his thumb over her clit and felt her entire body jolt at the contact. She’d been craving it for so long, and now all she needed was the nod of approval and she’d fall apart in his arms without a moment of hesitation. After dragging out the torture on her swollen clit for a moment too long, he brushes his teeth against her ear before whispering the words that she’d been desperate to hear for the past five minutes. “Cum for me, baby. Cum all over my fingers like the little slut that you are.” Her pussy immediately tightened around his digits, choking on a moan of absolute bliss as his hand fell from her throat and instead held her body up as she fell into a limp puddle of pleasure against his chest, mewling as sparks of pleasure continued to abuse her sated pussy.

David raises the fingers that’d been buried in her pussy and brushes them against her lips as her eyes flutter with exhaustion, deeply and utterly lost in her own mind as she stumbles away from the wall and rests her head on his chest. “M'tired.” She barely manages to speak audibly enough for him to hear, but since he knew her like the back of his hand, he was already in the process of sweeping her into his arms and transporting her limp, weightless body to the comfort of their bedroom, settling her upon the midst of blankets and draping the duvet over her with a small smile, leaving her to fall asleep with a kiss on the cheek and the promise that he’d join her before the sun came up. Upon returning to the couch, he does, somehow, manage to get the vlog edited and posted at the promised time; all whilst content knowing that his girl was sleeping soundly in the room just down the hall.

[ahnmakes]

devlog # 9 // life updates + new systems (UI, character stats, turn-based system)

so, I’ve been away for what feels like a year - there are a million things I could share.  first, let me update you on life things, then tell you a bit about what I’ve worked on in-game. as far as life things, I have been t i r e d.  and with autumn (my favorite season) here, the desire to cuddle and sleep all day is strong.

part of what’s been keeping me so tired is also that I both started uni studies and have a new job.  in the last blog, I mentioned I was thinking of going to university for further studies in computer science and all.  well, thanks to a few people’s generosity (and many, many phone calls, emails, etc), I did get signed up in time!  I have been absolutely in love with the things I’ve been learning in my first computer science class ever; even though it teaches Java, I have found that everything I’m learning is very easy to translate into C# and what I’m building in Unity.  each day, I feel more confident in my coding, so much so that nearly everything I’ve done in the past month has been entirely from my mind, just free-coding, without any tutorial or other guidance.  it is really amazing to feel like I can code up a system in my mind, even when I am away from a computer, and then sit down and type it out and it run exactly as I intended. while my studies and my new job (not especially difficult, but asks but for many hours each week; consider supporting me on Patreon so I don’t need to work as much?) keep me busy and often fatigued, I have been reclaiming time to code things I love and am really excited about - and I’d like to share with you a couple of things I’ve recently built. (edit: I just realised that a lot of the images are blurry :( will think on a fix for this)

where we left off with the last devlog, I was working a lot on the systems to build up the physical world: tile generation, interactables, biomes, and the like.  I did actually work on some other parts of the world and visuals (will share that in a near future devlog!), but more and more lately, I’ve been feeling like what will really keep me excited and focused, to feel like I’ve reached a solid checkpoint in my development, is being able to actually *play* the game.  even if it’s repetitive, only one area, or without animations, being able to press play and move characters around and interact is something I know will excite me.  so, that’s what I’ve been working towards. there are a handful of pieces I can identify between where the game was last devlog and what it needs to be minimally playable: - a basic UI that shows character stats - a system to calculate and update the stats to be displayed - a system to keep track of turns automatically - for the UI or world to display player choices accurately - at least a couple interactive actions the player can take, besides moving (damaging health, defending, etc) I started with making a basic character stat UI and a behind-the-scenes calculator. note: since we’re working mainly on systems in this devlog, I’m going to be sharing a lot of code talk.  but maybe you’re into that sort of thing.  also remember that my focus in each of these pieces is not to make something gorgeous or especially well-organised; my focus is to make something that works (though I am always thinking about optimisation and other possible patterns along the way).

so, this is what the first UI for character stats looks like!  I modeled this as a basic idea of how you might make a UI for creating a character and being able to preview their stats - both the base ones (like might and agility) and also a few of the compound ones (health, stamina, mana).

in this version, a player can choose an inheritance (what other games call “race”), a birth sign, and a primary class (though you won’t be able to choose it from the start like this in the game).  each of these choices contributes modifiers which change the stats, which is calculated altogether when you press the left or right buttons.  (again, these are not all the inheritances, signs, or classes in the game)

here’s a bit of the magick code that makes this happen:

as you can (hopefully?) see, I’m calling methods (CalculateClassValueMIT, etc) to get the relevant stat values and multiplying those against a magic number (eep!) and the character’s inheritance scaling.  what you might you also notice here is that these calculations are hard-coded to a given attribute (might, dexterity, intellect, etc); along with MIT, each of the other five attributes has its own calculation method.  I really hate this because I know there has to be another way to do it, but this is the way I know how to do so far - feel free to message me other patterns! (for example, I’ve seen people make a Stat class, but I don’t really get that yet?) then, while I was feeling a bit playful with UI and stats, I thought I would spend a day making a prototype of a “charisma interaction” system.  by this, I mean that - in the game - characters will be able to use their interpersonal skills to be able to navigate certain quests, get more information, and the like.  charisma pairs with each of the other attributes to give a certain way of interacting; for example, charisma and might could be interpreted as aggression, intimidation, using one’s size or boldness to gain favor.  pairing charisma with will could render an interaction more focused on relating, understanding, and empathising.  you can see some of might interaction here.

what’s shown in this is that Joseph, the unit kind enough to help with our testing, responds to your might interaction attempt with various phrases.  behind the scenes, Joseph has their own inheritance, signs, and other traits, and when you click, these + a random roll are used to calculate *how* Joseph responds.  in this case, Joseph has a primary sign of Aries, which inclines them to respond well to your might-based attempts (you’re in luck!).  even when Joseph declines your attempts or chooses to stop talking about a subject (just wait some days for them to open up again), they will tell you that they mostly like how you’ve approached them, even if it didn’t work this time - a character with Virgo as a primary sign, however, might tell you off on your first attempt and refuse to interact further with you. rather than just a few pre-programmed dialogues, I am interested in the game having a more procedural, somewhat organic feel.  also, in the actual game, Joseph will have slightly less patience; you won’t be able to keep clicking, only able to make an attempt twice in a day before the character closes that interaction. while the gif above shows many of the responses and reveal that there are just a handful of phrases this character will use, a player won’t see these in succession like this, so hopefully, the organic, personal feeling will be maintained.  and again, in the future, I intend to make this more complex, not just button pressing. here’s some of the behind the scenes to how the aries sign is built.  each sign is a scriptable object with these same parameters.

the basics of how a sentence is formed:

and what happens when you press the MIT button:

and the last thing to share today is about the turn-based system.  I knew this was an important step in moving us closer to a playable version of the game.

take a look, and then I’ll explain.

feel free to rewatch a few times, since there’s a lot to notice.

first, I approached this system by defining exactly what makes up a turn.  during a turn, the player will have four basic opportunities for choices: a first movement, an action, a secondary action (if the first was a half-action), and a second movement (if the character has any remaining movement).  these are the phases that the character sees and directly interacts with. then, beyond/around that, each turn also needs to initialise a player and update any status effects (status phase), figure out who’s next and adjust each character’s place in the list (priority phase), and see if the battle conditions have been met or if a next turn is needed (check phase).

here’s a closer look at some of the phases in code:

the basic setup is that the player interacts by pressing buttons when their input is needed, then the code moves through the phases depending on numerous factors: if the player used up all their movement, if they have action remaining, if they have a status (sleep? paralysed?) that will skip their turn, which phase it is currently ..

I have seen other approaches to coding a state machine (which I guess is what this is?) that I didn’t understand very much at all, and I am excited about this code because I know it came from me and all the things I’ve learned over my short time coding.  importantly, i am excited because it works.

whew.

so, what’s next?

well, I’ve built these systems solo (separate from the rest of the game systems) so that I could really polish them (as much as one polishes prototypes :p) before moving them into the fray. so, a next step is to integrate both the stat UI and the turn-based system into the rest.  to make it so that a player can pull up a fuller UI with a key press.  to show a constant UI indicating which units are involved in an interaction, maybe with some predictive stats (chance of hit).  and to have the player’s “movement button press” actually be them choosing which tile to move to, calculating automatically if that is their full movement range, and a much prettier (radial?) UI for selecting actions .. let’s not get ahead of ourselves.  one thing at a time.  I will keep working at it, with my plan being to get a workable version running this weekend, so maybe check back soon. and if you’d like to support me or get some behind the scene insights or help with building your game, do check out my Patreon - I would love for you to join my party: patreon.com/ahnmakes ✨✨ otherwise, I’ll see you in the next devlog! with love and need for a long, long sleep, ahn

[monstersandmaw]

Some submissive monsters pleeaassseee any kind really just sweet and doting and sub I’m begging you

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

Have nearly 3000 words of powerful yet submissive alien. I hope this suits? Sorry I sat on it for a while - I hope you remember asking for it… 

NSFW, with a little warning for brief mention of needles and wounds.

___

You encountered more kinds of xeno-anatomy in your first sixmonths aboard the ship than you’d seen in your whole six years of med schoolback on Earth. This was an alliance battle cruiser, so you had a regular stream of everyshape and size of soldier imaginable coming through the med bay.

The ship’s doctor, Maehve, was a seven foot tall J’Hantahriwho brooked no nonsense when it came to her med bay. It tended to keep thenewer recruits from going there on a whim to get out of training exercises, andsoldiers who had a firm hand tended to sit still long enough to get patched up.

Maehve had four stomachs and you suspected that all of themwere made of iron, because you’d never seen her so much as flinch as shetreated detached shells, torn limbs, shattered horns, acid-spit burns, rupturedthese and broken those. She also liked to boss you around, which grated. Youached to be the one giving orders for a change, but with your rank, the chancesof that were lower than your chances of finding a decent chocolate bar on board.

One sol, the First Officer himself was brought into the medbay with a huge blaster wound in his ribcage. Apparently a mission to a hostileplanet for negotiations had failed and they’d barely made it out at all.

The hulking Kharmorian was even taller than Maehve, and hewas twice as wide. His skin was black as ink, and covered in microscopic flecksof pearly white, like stars in the endless view from the observation deck. Sixeyes, arranged three on each side of his head, glared out from a flat face,with slit nostrils that flared occasionally as his pain mounted. Thick, viscousdrool was occasionally known to slip from a mouth that was full of razor sharpteeth, cylindrical, transparent, and gleaming like polished crystal, and hisjaw unhinged to gape wide enough to swallow your entire head whole if he wasreally in a rage. Or in the canteen after a workout.

In short, he was nine foot of pure muscle, and rumour had ithis saliva was poisonous. But that might just have been his temper.

And here he was, cursing in his guttural, native Kharmorian,and looking like he was about to try and eat Maehve whole, her chitinousplating be damned. Inadvisable, youthought with a smile.

His muscles were gorgeous as he gripped the edge of thestretcher, snapping and snarling as Maehve lowered her mandibled face towardthe wound and chittered angrily before prodding carefully with one of her morehumanoid hands. She had a lot of hands.

He hissed at her, and as his mouth opened, you saw the hugeteeth, transparent and beautiful in the harsh light of the med bay. He had two tongues, you discovered, biting yourlip to keep from smiling. He was really very beautiful, if… intimidating.

“Don’t you dare take that tone with me,” Maehve rattled,utterly unfazed by his display, her dry voice full of command.

To your astonishment, the massive First Officer went utterlystill. His torso was still clenched, however, and Maehve twitched her head likea mantis. She cuffed him on the side of his head. She actually cuffed the First Officer as though hewere no more than a disobedient child to be disciplined.

“Lie back down. Don’t move.”

Again, an almost imperceptible shiver ran through him, andhe went slack on the gurney.

“Good.”

His legs, thick and muscular and speckled with morepearlescent white dots, shook and he tipped his head back, all six of his eyesclosing.

Interesting.

His name was Ornorx, and he stayed in the med bay for aweek. During that time it was your job as Maehve’s assistant to care for him,to change his bandages, and to give him his injections to ward off infection.Kharmorians, you discovered, had very tough outer skin, but once it wasdamaged, they were surprisingly vulnerable to foreign pathogens.

At first, he was every bit as aggressive and terrifying ashis reputation suggested he would be.

You knocked on his door before entering the little room setaside for him, and he immediately began to growl. The low rumble of it filledthe room, resonating strangely in your ears as though there was an additionalmuch lower frequency that you could barely hear. Perhaps there was.

“Don’t think I’m going to let you anywhere near me, human,”he snarled, saliva thick on his teeth as he opened his mouth.

“Don’t think I’m so easily intimidated, First Officer Ornorx,”you said tartly, hoping you sounded a lot braver than you felt.

He opened that disconcerting jaw at you then, as wide as itwould go, and hissed and screeched softly.

“Stop that. And lie down, or you’ll undo all Maehve’s hardwork,” you barked, trying your best to imitate the tone of voice the J’Hantahridoctor had used with him when he’d first been brought in.

To your astonishment, his teeth clacked shut and he lay backdown on the bed, meek as a lamb.

“Good,” you said, recalling another detail of that firstencounter. And exactly as expected, a shudder ran through him. “Very good,” you purred softly as youapproached with the fresh dressings.

He looked up at you then, an odd light in his six eyes.

You smiled down at him, soft, rewarding, but with a hint of somethingelse. You liked this. You liked having someone as powerful as him givethemselves to your control. You were growing hot between the legs just thinkingof it. Oh shit. Not now.

He made to sit up then, and without thinking you shot out a handand pressed it into his hard chest. He had ridges of bone and muscle that werevery obviously different from your own anatomy, but at the lightest pressurefrom your splayed fingertips, he sank back down.

“Stay there,” you said in an even, rich voice. “Don’t movewhile I do this.”

Again, he shuddered, and you smiled.

You developed a pattern after that; a kind of dance betweenthe two of you. The moment you entered the room, he would snarl at you, fangsdripping, jaw unhinging, two tongues laving along his sharp teeth, in a displayof power and threat.

On his last sol in the med bay, you tried something new.Instead of speaking to him after his usual snarls, you simply cocked aneyebrow.

He twitched his head at that and went still, keeping all sixof his eyes on you, like a predator in a cage.

He looked massive onthe tiny med bay bed, his taloned feet sticking out from under the sheet, hishuge shoulders rippling with tightly corded muscle. Honestly, he really didlook like a predator, ready to spring from his lair and devour you. You wantedto feel those tongues on your body. You’d brought yourself to completion, everynight since he’d been brought in, thinking about both those tongues workingacross your skin while you stood over him, a collar around his neck and a ropein your hand.

You’d seen a sweeter side of him too. You’d been doingcombat training as well to bolster your skills, and had taken a viciousbackhand to the face from an armour-plated Anjari, and the bruise had spreadacross your cheekbone and eye-socket to leave a tender welt. The moment he’dseen it, he’d tilted his head to one side and asked you who’d hurt you.

You’d brushed it off, but if you’d said you hadn’t added hisconcerned expression to your mental picture of him desperately trying to pleaseyou while you teased and dominated the living daylights out of him, well… you’dhave been lying.

Having cocked one eyebrow at him, having not opened yourmouth, having not deigned to look at him longer than a heartbeat or two, yousighed and set down the tray of dressings and syringes on the far side of theroom. You pretended to check your coms device, idly running your thumb over thescreen, feigning interest in some old messages in your inbox.

You could feel himwatching you.

“Something more interesting than me?” he snarled.

“Be with you in a moment,” you commented without looking up.

He growled again, that oddly resonant sound that made heatcoil in your groin. You longed to tell him to make that sound again, just foryou, but you kept scrolling.

Then, to your astonishment, the growl changed timbre. Itrose, finishing in a desperate, if extremely short, whine. You looked at himthen.

Were the little pearlescent pin-pricks on his skin glowing?He had a few on his cheekbones, forming two perfect little half moons under hiseyes, and you’d definitely never noticed them before. His skin was so black itseemed to absorb all light. It was truly beautiful.

He was no longer looking at you, his eyes focused on theceiling, body rigid, as though with embarrassment.

You inhaled slowly, as though displeased, and slid your comunit back into your pocket. “Impatient, are we, First Officer?” you drawled.

Coming to a halt beside his bunk, you stared at him, onehand on your hip, the other holding the tray like a cocktail waitress.

“Miss my touch that much, did we?”

He didn’t even have it in him to growl at you this time. He justlicked his lips and stared back at you. You’d been sounding him out all week,and you were now almost 100% sure he wanted this.

One final test, just to be sure.

You held your tongue for a moment, wondering. You could getkicked off the ship for this. If you were wrong, you could be sent back toEarth in disgrace. But what was life without a little risk?

You began to prep his dressings, but when you were done, youheld the scissors out in front of his mouth and said, “Hold these.”

Unquestioningly, his mouth opened and he wrapped bothtongues around the closed blades of the scissors, drawing them down to restbetween his teeth. His eyes never left your face. His clawed hands nevertwitched.

“Good,” you smiled. Dareyou do it? “Good boy.”

He whined at that and closed his eyes. Drool began to leakfrom the corner of his wide mouth in a way that made you think of ball gags.

You leaned close to his face and put a hand on his smooth,cool chest. His two sets of lungs weren’t enough to help him draw in breath asyou whispered, “Now… Don’t move. But tell me if this hurts too much.”

A huge, shivering tremble rippled through his enormous body.One of his two thick, black tongues uncurled from the scissors in his mouth andhe tried to mop the saliva from his lips as it dribbled down his chin to hisneck.

“Leave that,” you scoffed, and the tongue stopped. “I toldyou not to move.”

It was as you looked down and lifted the covers just enoughto reveal his wounded side that you saw the sizable tent in the sheets furtherdown his body.

His breath was wheezing now, like a horse run too hard fortoo long, and you stared at the hard ridges at the base of his neck. Hissecondary nostrils, connecting directly to the secondary lungs, had opened,something you’d never seen before. He was more desperate than he was lettingon.

In a smooth motion you slid the sheet all the way back and heldyour breath. He was completely naked beneath the covers. Your eyes didn’tlinger, though it was unbelievably hard to tear your eyes away from the two, ridged cocks that had slipped out froma slit in his lower abdomen, both dripping with white fluid, one slightlylarger than the other.

Deliberately, you ignored them as best you could, andfocused on dealing with the wound. It was almost healed, and didn’t really needthe dressing you were about to apply. “Keep still,” you murmured, pressing ahand on his torso, between the wound and those two weeping cocks. They squirmedslightly as your fingers splayed across his skin; flexible and muscular, theywere very beautiful. He was fightinghard to retain his composure.

“This might hurt,” you smiled, readying the syringe. Youlowered the needle to the ragged edges of the blaster wound, and when you hadlined it up, just pricking the skin, you turned your eyes to find his alreadylocked on you. “Don’t. Look. Away.”

He nodded and his cocks both twitched, writhing now withmore intensity, white liquid leaking down their length and pooling on thatmidnight skin of his. The pinpricks of white all over his skin began to glownow. As you emptied the syringe into him and pulled it away, you smiled. “Verygood. You didn’t move at all.”

Then he let out a low whine that disintegrated into a raggedsigh.

Saliva had run down his face and soaked into the pillowbeneath his head, and you moved your fingers slowly up to take the scissorsfrom between his teeth. “Give me those.”

He released them instantly, his two tongues working aroundhis mouth to clean himself up. You decided to let him this time.

“Two tongues, two cocks,” you chuckled. “You reallyare full of surprises, aren’t you, First Officer Ornorx?”

“You have no idea,” he panted.

You smiled. You certainly had some idea by now. “Well, perhaps when you’re all healed up, you canshow me what else you’ve been keeping from me,” you said.

As you pulled the sheet back up his body, you deliberatelyskimmed your fingertips torturously over his two cocks and his entire bodylurched wildly.

A cry left his lips before he could stop it. “If you so muchas breathe a word…” he hissed, chest heaving, eyes rammed shut.

You turned to face him then and traced your fingers over thehalf moons on his cheekbones as tenderly as you could. “I’d never hurt you likethat,” you smiled before crossing to the door of his room. He whimpered desperatelyas you turned your back on him.

At the threshold you paused and looked over your shoulder.He was staring at you hungrily, mouth open, drooling softly again, one handalready under the covers, moving slowly.

“I’ll make sure you’re not disturbed for a while either,”you said, by way of giving him permission, and he jutted his chin to theceiling. “Try not to move too muchthough. Don’t want you undoing all my hard work. Understood?”

He grunted something softly, hand working his cocks harderbeneath the sheet.

“First Officer?” Your tone wouldn’t have been out of placeon the bridge.

“Understood,” he rasped.

“Good.”

And with just that one word, he came.

It was three sols later that you heard the knock at yourcabin door.

Opening it, you saw nothing but darkness, pricked withpoints of light. Casting your eyes upwards, you found a familiar face toweringover you. He said nothing. All six eyes stared at you with an unreadableexpression.

“Yes?” you asked coyly.

He stood there a moment longer, and for a second you thoughthe was on the point of leaving. But then he opened his mouth to reveal thosestrange and beautiful teeth. “Please?” he hissed, loud enough for only you tohear. “I can’t stop thinking about you. About… About what you did… for me… I…”he swallowed thickly.

Without a word, you stepped aside and held the door open.

He moved into your cabin and turned and stared at you. Thebruise on your cheek had a matching cut now and he brought his fingers to yourface. “You’re hurt?”

“Give me something to take my mind off it,” you smirked.“Let’s lay down some rules. The sooner we get started, the sooner you can makeme forget about that. Deal?”

“Deal.”

That wouldn’t be the first time the First Officer would findhimself on his knees, his body bound, cocks exposed and leaking, his dangerousmouth gagged and drooling, his muscles shaking, while you stood over him. Hewould come to you after training drills, after difficult meetings, afterdangerous missions. First he would see to his crew, and then he would come toyou, desperate for you to take his mind elsewhere.

The time he returned from a mission that nearly cost four ofhis team their lives, he came untouched, painting that incredible torso of hiswhite with the release of both cocks in under ten minutes. He’d also taken along time to come down after that. But with your gentle ministrationsafterwards, he did. That was the first time he told you he loved you.

What you loved most about him was the fact that someone sopowerful, who terrified all kinds of living fluid out of his crew just bylooking at them, could be so beautiful and gentle and soft, with his head inyour lap after one of your scenes.

You smiled as he purred sonorously, spent, exhausted, andutterly mellow, while you traced lines over his smooth skin and watched thosepoints of light dance and flare beneath your skating touch.

Masterlist

[exceedinglyregular]

Prompt: Andrew finds out that Steven likes men with beards so he decides to grow one. Although he does learn that Steven loves him regardless, Steven still is quite into beard burn and he won't say no to Andrew growing his stubble/beard (Not necessarily NSFW, kinda up to you on the frontier).

Title: Growing on Me

(ao3 link for those who prefer: here)

Andrew’s trying his best to focus on this video he’s supposed to be editing but it’s hard to when his boyfriend is literally sitting across him, laughing his sweet ass off. Steven and Jen are going through a bunch of BuzzFeed quizzes just for the fun of it and they are having an absolute blast.

After a few more failed attempts at concentrating on the task at hand, Andrew decides to stop here for now. He yanks his headphones off and just when he does that, he hears Steven commenting on one of the options in the quiz.

“…definitely the bearded guy. Men with beards are HOT!” That’s information Andrew definitely needed to hear.

Andrew walks around the desk to cross over to where Jen and Steven are sat. As he approaches, Jen looks up from the screen to greet him, Steven is still too consumed by the questions laid in front of him.

“What’s this?” Andrew asks, intrigued. He rests a hand on the table and leans forward, trying to read what’s being displayed.

“Pick your favorite looks and we’ll tell you who’s your true soulmate,” Steven reads right off the screen. “I wonder who I’ll get…” Steven must see something in Andrew’s face that isn’t there as he immediately starts backtracking. “I mean y-you-… you! …you are the one for me, of course! I just- this is just- The quiz mean nothing, Drew!”

Andrew cackles loudly, causing a few heads to turn. He honestly can’t believe what just happened, they should’ve been filming it.

“I’m not mad, don’t worry.” And Steven breathes a huge sigh of relief, Jen is clearly amused by this exchange as she’s giggling away. Andrew gestures at the laptop. “Keep going, I’m curious too.”

After several minutes of in-depth pondering, Steven finally reaches the last question and…

“OH MY GOD!” Steven jumps out of his chair, and is stumbling over the wires running across the floor. Jen is screaming like a crazed sports fan whose team just won. The entire office is looking over at them but only for a brief moment, these kinds of outbursts are more than common around here.

Andrew reaches out and turns the laptop to face him so that he can get a better look at the result. It reads…

You got: Andrew Ilnyckyj! BuzzFeed’s very own ‘creepy’ guy. Don’t let that cool, stoic exterior fool you, he is secretly a lovable goofball. A man of many talents, Andrew is more than capable of whipping up a scrumptious dinner for you, and can even charm your socks off with his wide history and geography knowledge. Plus, he loves animals too! Who said the perfect guy doesn’t exists?

That little snippet put a hot blush on Andrew’s face. He doesn’t even think he’s that much of a catch, much less being ‘the perfect guy’. Steven appears to disagree as he pulls Andrew in for a kiss, hands wrapping around his waist.

“So does the quiz still mean nothing?” Andrew asks when they part. Steven’s grip on his waist tightens, and he brings his face in closer. Their breaths mingle as Steven replies in a low voice.

“Yes. I don’t need a dumb quiz to tell me anything.”

—

So that soulmate quiz thing may actually be accurate but… Andrew’s not taking his chances. It took him so long to finally get into a relationship with Steven, he’s going to do everything in his power to see it through. Even if said ‘everything’ is going to get uncomfortable for him.

Andrew has scratched at his jaw over twenty times for the last few minutes, so it’s no surprise that it caught his boyfriend’s attention.

“Beard problems?” Steven asks the next time he sees Andrew scratching away. Andrew stops mid-scratch, he smiles, hoping to make it look like less of a problem than it actually is.

“No, just…” He then continues scratching when he can’t stand the itch. “…really itchy”

“Why don’t you shave it off then?” Steven suggests nonchalantly, taking another bite of his pizza. Andrew feels his heart sink, if Steven is suggesting that… Does he think Andrew can’t handle a little prickling? Granted, what he has on his face is more stubble than beard, and he already has this much difficulty living with it. Maybe he should just- No. Andrew shakes his head, he’s not giving up.

“N-no, it’s fine. Just needs some time to get used to it, that’s all.” Andrew replies, aggressively rubbing the side of his face in hopes of ending the irritation.

“Oh-kay…” is all Steven says, continuing with consuming his lunch.

Damn the itchiness, Andrew’s just gonna have to grin and bear with it. He’s going to make Steven swoon so hard with his beard, and no amount of irritation is going to stop him.

Andrew picks up another slice, focusing on the chewing and the swallowing and the flavor, and pushing any thoughts of his facial hair to the back of his mind.

—

It’s been two whole weeks since Andrew has seen his boyfriend, and he wants to make Steven’s six-hour flight from New York completely worth the time. Andrew went ahead and tracked down the very quiz that Steven took to find that specific image of that bearded man. It took hours of preparation but Andrew thinks he has the look nailed down.

Andrew watches as waves of people pass him, he checks the time. Steven should be out by now. Just as he thinks this, Steven steps out of the arrival hall looking all around like a lost child searching for their parent at a mall. Andrew chuckles to himself and walks over to the bewildered man who is still looking the wrong direction.

“Hey kiddo, are you lost?” Andrew puts on a comically deep voice and a playfully concerned face. Steven spins around immediately, not yet recognizing his own boyfriend standing in front of him.

“No sir, I-… Andrew?!” His eyebrows rise up so high that they almost disappear into his white cap. Steven’s checking him out up and down, and Andrew is feeling just a little self-conscious to have that kind of attention on him, in public no less. “Is this your Halloween costume? Are you going as Adam?”

“What? No…” Andrew looks down at his clothing, which Steven is now thoroughly inspecting and oh god. He has a red and blue plaid shirt on, black skinny pants and with the beard… it’s the holy trinity of the iconic Bianchi look. All he’s missing is the glasses, which he fortunately doesn’t need. “I just… I heard that you’re really into guys with beards so…”

Steven laughs at that and it’s the most cute, innocent laughter Andrew has ever heard. Steven’s bent at the waist and doubled over, shaking with mirth. When he finally regains his composure, they are tears in his eyes that he has to wipe away. Andrew doesn’t understand what’s so funny.

“Oh my god, Drew! I wasn’t trying to hint at you or anything!” There’s a little tingle that runs down Andrew’s spine, like always when Steven calls him by that nickname. It’s sorta distracting him from the moment.

“I… I didn’t think you were, just thought that maybe I should take a little initiative…?” Andrew shrugs, unsure of how to explain his thought process.

“Even so, I don’t think Adam is a good look on you.” He frowns and yeah, Andrew already has thoughts to rework his style. Still, he feels it’s important to explain his intention here.

“I just want to make you happy,” Andrew kinda mumbles, not moving his lips as much as he should, as if he’s ashamed to admit it. He stares down at the floor like a shy high-schooler asking someone out to prom.

When he finally gathers enough courage to sneak a look at Steven… he is looking at Andrew like he’s the biggest dummy on the planet. He takes a step towards Andrew and brings a hand up to cup his face, soft fingers gently stroking his beard.

“And you do. I love you, Andrew… beard or no beard, it doesn’t matter.” Steven’s smiling at him with the intensity of a thousand suns, and the warmth bursting through Andrew’s heart matches it in magnitude. It’s sappy but true.

“I know. I love you too.” Andrew closes the distance between their lips, and maybe it’s from missing him so much but Steven’s lips taste way sweeter than Andrew ever remembered. Even over the hubbub of the airport, Andrew can distinctly hear the tiny noise of satisfaction coming from Steven. When they pull away, it’s Steven’s turn to look embarrassed.

“You know what? I actually really like it, it’s really rough but…” Steven leans way in, bringing his lips next to Andrew’s ear, the hot breath almost making him shiver. “…that kinda turns me on.”

Before Andrew can formulate any sort of response, Steven’s walking off with the baggage cart. What a tease. Andrew catch up to him with double-wide strides, returning to normal once he’s side-by-side with his man again.

“I didn’t really like it at first either but it’s growing on me.” Andrew pauses for dramatic effect, Steven is already preemptively rolling his eyes because he knows where this is going. “Literally!”

Andrew’s pointing finger guns at a very done Steven, he even pretends to fire a few shots. The taller man lifts one hand off the handle of the cart to slap him on the arm, but he’s chuckling at the pun regardless.

“Not your best work. I give it an 8.”

“Out of 10? That’s a pretty good score.” Andrew wrestles for control of the cart away from Steven, who initially resists but gives up to yawn.

“No, out of a 100. You’re failing miserably.” That’s what he claims but Andrew knows better. The fondness that’s on full display on Steven’s face tells him all he needed to know: he succeeded perfectly.

Closing notes:

Some of you may notice that I actually teased the title in the last prompt fic.

[smokeybrand]

Smokey brand Movie Reviews: Under Pressure

I’m a huge fan of Samara Weaving. Chick has the range on her. She is, apparently, pretty accomplished in the film game, getting her first run in the states as Heather in Ash vs. The Evil Dead. While i did check out Ash, it was long after the show was canceled so my very first introduction to Samara was with Netflix’s The Babysitter. I loved this movie and she was excellent in it. It wasn’t the best but it was fun enough for me to recommend it to anyone listening. Towards the end of last year, i heard rumors of a sequel and then nothing for a long ass time. Today, however, that f*cker dropped and i just HAD to check it out. Will The Babysitter: Killer Queen hold up against it’s surprisingly entertaining predecessor? We ask the big questions here, on this blog.

The Good

It’s super dope seeing where these kids ended up after the first flick. I really enjoyed the characters the first time around so double-dipping into to this world was a real pleasure.

I’m not a huge fan of McG’s directing style but dude has his own flavor. You definitely know this is a McG flick, for sure. Sh*t is like watching a comic book in real life. It’s kind of chaotic and a little ADD, but for this story? It works perfectly.

I really like the dialogue in this flick. It feels Diablo Cody-esque but not all pretentious. I wouldn’t go so far as to say it’s organic but it’s palatable. McG has a knack for infusing his films with a decent amount of humor and it really shows in this script.

The kills in this thing were exquisite, much better than the first. The CG blood was a little much but i absolutely enjoyed the gore. I’m not usually a fan of the sloppy but, in a film like this, that’s the biggest draw.

My mans still has no shirt. Continuity!

The cast is still amazing. Bella Thorne, King Bach, Hana Mae Lee, Samara Weaving, and Robbie Amell are still as hilarious as ever but i really like the new additions. I was a little surprised where characters ended up and the inexplicable resurrection of others was a little much, but it’s all in service to a rather forced narrative so it’s cool.

Judah Lewis as Cole Johnson is as spry and hilarious as ever. Dude was the best thing about the first flick, he and Samara, but i adored this kid, specifically. He had some... Interesting character development but his bad-assery is still intact when the pressure is on. Always a pleasure seeing my guys get their shine.

Emily Alyn Lind as Melanie was also as awesome as ever. She made a pretty aggressive heel turn for this entry but chick pulled it off. She’s not as playful or adorably wicked as Bee, like, not even close. Melanie is a straight up psychopath in this and i was real surprised. It’s like she’s channeling Snakebite Andi and it totally works.

Jenna Ortega as Phoebe is an absolutely welcome edition to this cast. She’s amazing and cute and absolutely brutal. This chick is as capable as Cole and it really shows. If they make this a trifecta, i hope she comes back. Ma was the best thing about this movie, just like Cole was in the first.

The pacing of this movie is on straight up meth, man. It definitely has someplace it wants you to be and it’s running full steam ahead, not stops. This is also a thing in McG movies; Dude has next to no subtlety or nuance but, sometimes, that’s fine. For this movie? It’s perfect.

But that Apache dance break, tho!

The Bad

All of the heartfelt, emotional, scenes in this thing feel out of place. It’s crazy tonal whiplash when placed next to the over-the-top violence, spastic editing, and weird ass interludes that have nothing o do with anything.

I had to adjust the settings on my TV because McG’s penchant for over-saturated color grading is on full display. I don’t know if it was just me or whatever, but these daytime shots feel bleached the f*ck out.

This thing feels like one big ass music video. Like, I'm not mad, but it’s very obvious the soundtrack to this flick has been weaponized to distract. You barely get more than a few seconds of any one song and it kind of gives you lyrical whiplash.

I don’t really like where Cole ended up, especially after his actualization after the first. It feels... forced? Yeah, forced is good. I think Cole needed to be nerfed in order for this entire narrative to be a thing. I don’t agree with it, but i understand it.

There are several plot holes that just go unaddressed. It’s kind of a problem, especially at the end where certain events occur that directly contradict things that were

The Verdict

I loved this movie, man. I was already a massive fan of the first but this one is pretty fun, too. I said fun, not good. As a film, objectively, it’s all over the place. There are several choices made that just boggles the mind. McG feels like the store brand version of Edgar Wright and that is no more apparent than how he decided to present this narrative. I’m not mad at it, i rather enjoyed my time with it, but, i mean, Scott Pilgrim is a thing and it does what this movie tries to do, infinitely better. Still, for what it is, this film is fun watch. Great performances, incredible energy, dope music, hilarious dialogue, legit gore; It’s just a bloody grand old time!

[flauntpage]

The Soul-Crushing Irony of Charlie Brown, the Athlete

When I was a kid playing sports, adults told me that it didn’t matter if I won or lost. I did a tremendous job taking this to heart. I dogged it on sprints, turned in REAL mediocre performances day after day, and basically stopped thinking about whatever game I was playing the second I left the field. “Eh, whatever,” was the call of my athletic career, my demon’s yawp, deep from the bottom of my lungs. In retrospect, this was probably not the best thing I could have done with my time on the field. There was a second half of that saying that I did a pretty spectacular job of ignoring, though: “It’s the way you play the game."

There were lessons to be learned from devoting oneself to the pursuit of a certain kind of personal excellence that sports can manifest, and I cast them off and mostly didn’t give a shit. Instead of gassing myself out on the field, I loafed. Instead of devoting myself to understanding the nuances of The Game, I did what occurred to me up top and shrugged my shoulders when it didn’t work out. Instead of devoting myself to TRAINING, I kicked back in my room and read a giant fucking pile of Peanuts anthologies I bought at a garage sale.

Last week, @Peanuts50YrsAgo, a fabulous Twitter account that posts the edition of Charles Schulz’s sprawling comic strip masterwork that was originally published 50 years ago that day, told a sports story that is the opposite of my own. A tale of failure that is not yanked out from the root, as mine was, but instead allowed to take hold and sprawl and reach out towards the sun, a hideous, life-annihilating monstrosity that is the manifestation of a dystopian application of a particular sort of self confidence and desire that I will call the Athlete Mindset.

The story begins with our hero, Charlie Brown, standing on the baseball mound, the site of so many of his most profound failures. For those not familiar, in his ill-defined neighborhood team’s structure, Charlie is, seemingly because he is the only person who wants it, his team’s manager and pitcher. He is not very good at either task, getting lit up in strip after strip, for year after year, occasionally suffering the pure indignity of a line drive hitting him and knocking all of his clothes off, while the rest of his teammates—including his dog, the consensus best player—just kind of don't give a shit. There's a very simple reason for this grim outlook: you don't make the finest work of comic art of the latter half of the 20th century by writing a comic where the main character gets what he wants, you do it by distilling your tremendous depression into a daily comic strip aimed, presumably, at children.

Anyway, Charlie looks out and sees “The Little Red-Haired Girl,” a girl never once seen by the readership, who is the object of all his romantic desires and dreams. She is watching his baseball game, and he sits there, alone on that mound, and just dreads.

One presumes that Charlie is going to be embarrassed in his customary manner, a line drive stripping him to his skivvies, becoming the object of Lucy’s ridicule. But Schulz must have been feeling particularly ornery that week, because the fate he manages to cook up for the pen-and-paper manifestation of all the worst things we imagine about ourselves is EVEN FUCKING WORSE.

Instead, Schroeder, game-managing catcher and dispassionate, the technically-gifted artist that he is, asks what is going on. Charlie Brown tells him the subject of his distant, tormented affection is in the stands. Schroeder, who knows his man is just, like, entirely too in his head to really make it happen—whether that's pitching, or talking to that girl, or ANYTHING, really—walks away while Charlie Brown makes a whole world of his own success in his head. It lasts exactly one panel.

Charlie Brown, apparently playing in a league without balk rules, immediately seizes up and cannot throw. He shakes and proceeds to have what is, for all intents and purposes, a panic attack. Lucy also calls him a dog, which, I mean, he is a blockhead and it’s hard to act like he doesn’t deserve it, on some level.

Charlie Brown’s best friend, Linus, feeling for his man, guides him off the field and takes him home, where he gets into bed and continues freaking the hell out, trying to use his vision of a better world to coax himself out of his lengthy panic episode.

For those who are not intimately familiar with anxiety disorders, this does not work. Ever. Generally, you are supposed to accept the worst case scenario, accept that it could probably happen, and try to move on from there, devoting yourself to doing your best and hoping it turns out okay. Unfortunately, Charlie Brown hasn’t been told this, yet. God hopes he was, eventually.

Three hours later, presumably, Charlie Brown feels better and heads back to the field, where he is informed that the game went on without him—probably a good move, considering he was having a debilitating anxiety episode—that Linus pitched, very well, and his team, which never manages to win for some reason or another, has won in his absence. AND THEN, just to add insult to injury, The Red-Haired Girl got up, ran to the mound, and gave Linus a big hug on account of his tremendous athletic prowess, the very dream scenario Charlie envisioned for himself before reality burst that bubble.

Charlie is relentless, though. Just likeC.J. McCollum has spent the entire summer displaying the purity of the Athlete Mindset by aggressively reminding everyone that he is, in fact, not a loser just because he doesn't play for the Warriors and quite frankly WANTS TO WIN THE RIGHT WAY, Charlie Brown will die on this hill, which is more of a mound, but whatever. He fucking refuses to get off that thing even though, clearly, Linus or Snoopy or whoever the fuck is dramatically superior at pitching than he is. He refuses to stop declaring himself the manager, desiring control of everything, even though no one listens to him and Lucy, his teammate, seems to be playing almost entirely to belittle him. He ABSOLUTELY WILL NOT try a game that isn’t baseball, because the subject of those rambling dreams in his head is baseball, and he figures that, goddammit, all he needs to do is POWER THROUGH and he can MAKE MANIFEST THE VICTORIES OF HIS DREAMS.

This works, when you have talent! High level athletes are psychos in this exact way, creating fantasies about themselves and bleeding and dying to make those fantasies reality, managing to climb mountains of money to look out on the horizon and survey the vast kingdoms of their victories, one right after another, while still never being satisfied.

What Schulz creates in Charlie Brown’s baseball career is a pure neurotic flip of that dream, a nightmare where a young man is given pure Athlete Mindset, a need to succeed on his own terms and a craving for success and the love that comes along with success, that is COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY impossible due to a combination of his pure lack of physical or tactical talent and the immense neurosis growing out of that need.

His is the story of the kid Max Scherzer struck out looking time after time in high school, the poor, committed sap Allen Iverson dominated when he was 12, the myriad high schoolers who dreamed of quarterback glory only to watch Matt Ryan steal it away from them, the kids who might have the same ambition and drive and craving for glory of even the fringiest European NBA Prospect, but who quite simply didn’t have the talent or the mental gifts to come even close to making it happen. It wasn’t me, of course, and thank God for that. That shit is a curse more than it’s a blessing, unless you’re walking around with the tools to make your dreams come true. Without those tools, you'd probably lose your shirt, too.

The Soul-Crushing Irony of Charlie Brown, the Athlete published first on https://footballhighlightseurope.tumblr.com/

[flauntpage]

The Soul-Crushing Irony of Charlie Brown, the Athlete

When I was a kid playing sports, adults told me that it didn’t matter if I won or lost. I did a tremendous job taking this to heart. I dogged it on sprints, turned in REAL mediocre performances day after day, and basically stopped thinking about whatever game I was playing the second I left the field. “Eh, whatever,” was the call of my athletic career, my demon’s yawp, deep from the bottom of my lungs. In retrospect, this was probably not the best thing I could have done with my time on the field. There was a second half of that saying that I did a pretty spectacular job of ignoring, though: “It’s the way you play the game."

There were lessons to be learned from devoting oneself to the pursuit of a certain kind of personal excellence that sports can manifest, and I cast them off and mostly didn’t give a shit. Instead of gassing myself out on the field, I loafed. Instead of devoting myself to understanding the nuances of The Game, I did what occurred to me up top and shrugged my shoulders when it didn’t work out. Instead of devoting myself to TRAINING, I kicked back in my room and read a giant fucking pile of Peanuts anthologies I bought at a garage sale.

Last week, @Peanuts50YrsAgo, a fabulous Twitter account that posts the edition of Charles Schulz’s sprawling comic strip masterwork that was originally published 50 years ago that day, told a sports story that is the opposite of my own. A tale of failure that is not yanked out from the root, as mine was, but instead allowed to take hold and sprawl and reach out towards the sun, a hideous, life-annihilating monstrosity that is the manifestation of a dystopian application of a particular sort of self confidence and desire that I will call the Athlete Mindset.

The story begins with our hero, Charlie Brown, standing on the baseball mound, the site of so many of his most profound failures. For those not familiar, in his ill-defined neighborhood team’s structure, Charlie is, seemingly because he is the only person who wants it, his team’s manager and pitcher. He is not very good at either task, getting lit up in strip after strip, for year after year, occasionally suffering the pure indignity of a line drive hitting him and knocking all of his clothes off, while the rest of his teammates—including his dog, the consensus best player—just kind of don't give a shit. There's a very simple reason for this grim outlook: you don't make the finest work of comic art of the latter half of the 20th century by writing a comic where the main character gets what he wants, you do it by distilling your tremendous depression into a daily comic strip aimed, presumably, at children.

Anyway, Charlie looks out and sees “The Little Red-Haired Girl,” a girl never once seen by the readership, who is the object of all his romantic desires and dreams. She is watching his baseball game, and he sits there, alone on that mound, and just dreads.

One presumes that Charlie is going to be embarrassed in his customary manner, a line drive stripping him to his skivvies, becoming the object of Lucy’s ridicule. But Schulz must have been feeling particularly ornery that week, because the fate he manages to cook up for the pen-and-paper manifestation of all the worst things we imagine about ourselves is EVEN FUCKING WORSE.

Instead, Schroeder, game-managing catcher and dispassionate, the technically-gifted artist that he is, asks what is going on. Charlie Brown tells him the subject of his distant, tormented affection is in the stands. Schroeder, who knows his man is just, like, entirely too in his head to really make it happen—whether that's pitching, or talking to that girl, or ANYTHING, really—walks away while Charlie Brown makes a whole world of his own success in his head. It lasts exactly one panel.

Charlie Brown, apparently playing in a league without balk rules, immediately seizes up and cannot throw. He shakes and proceeds to have what is, for all intents and purposes, a panic attack. Lucy also calls him a dog, which, I mean, he is a blockhead and it’s hard to act like he doesn’t deserve it, on some level.

Charlie Brown’s best friend, Linus, feeling for his man, guides him off the field and takes him home, where he gets into bed and continues freaking the hell out, trying to use his vision of a better world to coax himself out of his lengthy panic episode.

For those who are not intimately familiar with anxiety disorders, this does not work. Ever. Generally, you are supposed to accept the worst case scenario, accept that it could probably happen, and try to move on from there, devoting yourself to doing your best and hoping it turns out okay. Unfortunately, Charlie Brown hasn’t been told this, yet. God hopes he was, eventually.

Three hours later, presumably, Charlie Brown feels better and heads back to the field, where he is informed that the game went on without him—probably a good move, considering he was having a debilitating anxiety episode—that Linus pitched, very well, and his team, which never manages to win for some reason or another, has won in his absence. AND THEN, just to add insult to injury, The Red-Haired Girl got up, ran to the mound, and gave Linus a big hug on account of his tremendous athletic prowess, the very dream scenario Charlie envisioned for himself before reality burst that bubble.

Charlie is relentless, though. Just like C.J. McCollum has spent the entire summer displaying the purity of the Athlete Mindset by aggressively reminding everyone that he is, in fact, not a loser just because he doesn't play for the Warriors and quite frankly WANTS TO WIN THE RIGHT WAY, Charlie Brown will die on this hill, which is more of a mound, but whatever. He fucking refuses to get off that thing even though, clearly, Linus or Snoopy or whoever the fuck is dramatically superior at pitching than he is. He refuses to stop declaring himself the manager, desiring control of everything, even though no one listens to him and Lucy, his teammate, seems to be playing almost entirely to belittle him. He ABSOLUTELY WILL NOT try a game that isn’t baseball, because the subject of those rambling dreams in his head is baseball, and he figures that, goddammit, all he needs to do is POWER THROUGH and he can MAKE MANIFEST THE VICTORIES OF HIS DREAMS.

This works, when you have talent! High level athletes are psychos in this exact way, creating fantasies about themselves and bleeding and dying to make those fantasies reality, managing to climb mountains of money to look out on the horizon and survey the vast kingdoms of their victories, one right after another, while still never being satisfied.

What Schulz creates in Charlie Brown’s baseball career is a pure neurotic flip of that dream, a nightmare where a young man is given pure Athlete Mindset, a need to succeed on his own terms and a craving for success and the love that comes along with success, that is COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY impossible due to a combination of his pure lack of physical or tactical talent and the immense neurosis growing out of that need.

His is the story of the kid Max Scherzer struck out looking time after time in high school, the poor, committed sap Allen Iverson dominated when he was 12, the myriad high schoolers who dreamed of quarterback glory only to watch Matt Ryan steal it away from them, the kids who might have the same ambition and drive and craving for glory of even the fringiest European NBA Prospect, but who quite simply didn’t have the talent or the mental gifts to come even close to making it happen. It wasn’t me, of course, and thank God for that. That shit is a curse more than it’s a blessing, unless you’re walking around with the tools to make your dreams come true. Without those tools, you'd probably lose your shirt, too.

The Soul-Crushing Irony of Charlie Brown, the Athlete published first on https://footballhighlightseurope.tumblr.com/