#and also bc i didn’t know how to end it

[hyperions-light]

Someone was being a fucking hater on my explicitly positive DATV post AGAIN (u all know I can see your tags right. They get delivered to me express mail style) so here’s an essay about how I thought the Grey Warden plotline was great:

First, it was extremely lore-consistent. I don’t know how to tell people this, but the Grey Wardens simply are sort of shady— it’s part of their charm. In DAO alone we found out they:

- kill anyone who refuses the joining

- are definitely using a blood magic ritual to induct people

- tried to usurp the throne of Fereldan

In DA2 they:

-Forced Malcolm Hawke to perform a blood magic ritual against his will to contain Corypheus, by threatening to kill his family

- Built a giant prison in the mountains they didn’t tell anyone about and that someone could wander into and not be able to escape

- the entire Corypheus thing. They didn’t even tell the other Wardens like what he was or how dangerous he was.

DAI:

- the demon army thing was pretty bad

And that’s not even mentioning any stuff from the books or comics or shows! That’s just stuff in the games!

So they’re shady. It’s okay! They’re my little woobie guys, idc if they’re sort of shady!

But the plot in DATV is about all of those previously established issues coming back to bite them in the fucking ass, as they should! Knock knock, it’s the consequences of your actions, baby! The chickens are home to roost

(Which is just good storytelling. Like if you set up a bunch of issues and then never pay them off or anything that’s bad.)

Destroying Weisshaupt was inspired! Firstly bc Davrin is Weisshaupt, metaphorically (bulwark against the darkness, etc, I already made a post) so it serves his character arc. But also because it strips away the pageantry and the grandeur from them; no more castle for you! No more myth!

Davrin explicitly tells you that the First Warden is a traditionalist; he represents the historical attitudes of the Wardens. They do not accept help, they do not give up their secrets, they are standing alone against the dark. And it doesn’t work! He’s fucking wrong (and very punch-able). Being secretive and isolationist is a mistake that costs them nearly everything.

But also, and I’m not sure how many people experienced this on the first go-around, the game does ultimately come down on the side of the Wardens always trying to do the right thing. You CAN talk the First Warden down, because in the end he’s a Warden, and he might be stubborn and curmudgeonly and miserable but he CARES about the world. He came to do good. He admits he was wrong and he helps you. Because the heart of the Wardens is about selfless service to other people. In Death, Sacrifice.

Stripping away Weisshaupt and the glory and pageantry leaves the Wardens at their most vulnerable and forces them to return to their fundamental principles: helping people. That’s what Lavendel is about. Helping individual people and preserving every life possible even if it doesn’t feel that glamorous or heroic. Lavendel isn’t a significant place; it doesn’t matter, but it matters so much.

And then, the Cauldron.

First off, do not at me about Last Flight. I don’t think people should have to read external materials to play this game and understand it. If the information is vital it should be presented to the player in the text.

The Cauldron is the repository of the Wardens’ secrets; it’s where the keep the bones of the Archdemons, the secret to the Joining, ancient and dangerous weapons, as well as the bodies of the griffons, which represents their most shameful errors. Isseya is the avatar of the Wardens�� mistakes; she’s been hurt by what they made her do, and her pain was never acknowledged by them. They buried her story and her suffering like they bury everything they don’t want to deal with and are ashamed of. They left the bones of the griffons, whose deaths they directly caused, to rot because they were too sad to acknowledge them.

But it was wrong to walk away, it was wrong to bury it. Isseya makes sure that they can never do that again, that they have to own what they did and take responsibility. By discovering who she is and by restoring her personhood to her, by reminding her of her love which drove her to her anguish in the first place, Davrin saves her and he saves the griffons. He doesn’t do it using violence, because another sin of the Wardens is just assuming that they can kill their way out of their problems, which the game disproves by revealing the origin of the Blight. You can kill as many darkspawn as you want, you will never fix it! The Titans’ dreams do not need to be slain, they need to be healed.

Isseya is in so much pain because of her incredible love for both the griffons and the Wardens, and because of her guilt. Look what she builds! An alternate Weisshaupt, a distorted reflection of her home. She entreats both Davrin and Assan to join her, because she doesn’t think she’s trying to destroy anything. She’s trying to save them! She wants them to come home. “I am their mother,” she says, and she’s right. She saved them, then, and she ends up saving them now! Because she made Davrin and the other Wardens look, unflinchingly, at what they had done, it will never happen again. She was going about it wrong during the game, but she was ALWAYS trying to save them.

Davrin, Antoine and Evka represent the Wardens’ commitment to being different. They let Flynn undergo the Joining without becoming a Warden, they reveal secrets to non-Warden Rook, they offer to help the Viper without asking for anything in return. They ask for help and offer it freely. If the Wardens are going to persist into a world without Archdemons, they HAVE to change. They can’t be what they were anymore. The game is asking what a Warden is when they have to be more than their oath, when they have to live. It’s a great exploration of and expansion on previously established lore.

Anyway, my advice if you hated the plot and the game and the characters is to a) make your own post b) don’t bother me about it, because I have the time and I will be loudly positive in response!

[giamee]

╭┄───────────── 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐔𝐕! ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

featuring. hsr men 〆 wc. 1.0k

art creds. 海仑 on weibo 〆 contains. mentions of being drunk/drinking, some suggestiveness but still sfw

gia's notes. new layout bc im allergic to keeping a theme 🏰 also i'm writing this while i procrastinate an essay. which is due in like.. 8.5 hours. and i am 2k over the word limit. joy upon joy.

╰┄➤ ❝ request. anon 〆 What HSR men says when they are drunk. ❞

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ they’re SWEET when they’re drunk.

his voice gets a touch softer, a little lower so that you have to crane your neck and lean in real close to him to catch what he's saying over the bustle of the bar that you went to and the chatter of your friends that you came with. it’s like you’re in your own little universe with him, the sweet pinkish tint to his cheeks and the dilated pupils a look that you could definitely get used to- not that his usual more reserved look didn’t make your heart hammer in your chest, too.

but it's just so rare to see him like this, for him to look at you like you hung the stars in the sky, like every word that passes your lips is a prayer, whose hands furl and unfurl in his lap like he's itching to touch you (you wish he would).

it's not like he really says much, per se, instead opting to watch your every move wide-eyed and with a slackened jaw. you're growing warm under his gaze, and you stutter out that he'll really have to quit staring at you like that before you get the wrong idea. that does little to stop his actions, though he does flash you a sheepish smile.

"i'm sorry, you just look so beautiful."

you almost choke as you take a sip of your own drink.

gepard, dan heng (imbibitor lunae), moze, luocha

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ they’re FLIRTY when they’re drunk.

it should be illegal for him to be this much of a smooth talker with that many drinks in his system. he's completely and utterly shameless, one arm rested casually against the back of your chair and his whole undivided attention on you as he throws every line he knows right at you hoping that one will land.

you'd be lying if you said that you weren't enjoying this attention from him, though there's the remaining sober part of you screaming how he's just a friend over and over, but when he dips his head low to whisper into your ear you're delighted to find that part of you audibly drown out.

everything about him is just so... tantalising. the way his silver tongue darts out to swipe across his lip, him not missing the way your eyes follow the movement. the way he leans back in his seat, the hungry yet calculating look in his eyes doing something to you. the way you see him deliberating over something before finally opening his mouth to speak.

and when he asks you if you want to get out here with him, it's only natural for you to accept his offer.

aventurine (realistically he gets sad when he drinks but that is not romantical or lighthearted at all) jiaoqiu, gallagher, boothill

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ they’re TALKATIVE when they’re drunk.

even on a good day, he's known to just talk, and talk, and talk if he gets going. that particular quality only seems to be amplified by the alcohol coursing through his system. he's been talking your ear off for the past half hour or so, a never-ending flow of words escaping his lips as he seems to he telling you just about everything that's on his mind.

you see the glances from others, the pity edging its way to concern adorning their features, but little do they know that you don't mind one bit.

while he may not be everyone's favourite to talk to, you've always found something within you compelled to sit and listen while he talks. he's always had something interesting to say, always been wary of if you are feeling tired or bored (not that you ever would be of him), and over your few encounters you've grown to be rather fond of him.

he's still talking now, an enthusiastic gleam in his eye as you smile and nod, propping your chin against your hand as you get comfy and study his features unbothered.

he sees the affectionate look on your face and stops for a moment, smiling widely and stuttering a few times before continuing.

dr ratio, sampo, mr reca, argenti

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ they’re TIRED when they’re drunk.

it's something that happened once, a few months ago when you had drank with them for the first time. you had all been in a group, and you had been chatting away with your friends rather livelily (i dont think that's a word) until you promptly felt a weight against your shoulder.

your reactions are a bit sluggish, but when you do turn to see just what it could be you're surprised to see a head of hair, and your tipsy brain just about manages to realise he's slumped over, dozing off on your shoulder, much to the amusement of everyone at the table.

you find it rather funny yourself, sneaking your phone out of your pocket to snap a rather unflattering-angled photo of him (which he still manages to look good in) that you send to him the next morning (he smiled to himself as he saw your grinning face in the corner of it and saved it to his camera roll).

you don't quite have the heart to wake him up or shrug him off, so you sort of just... let him be and continue talking like nothing had happened. some nondescript amount of time later he wakes up, blinking uncertainly as he gains his surroundings, before jolting up ramrod straight and apologising to you.

you giggle, tell him it's alright and tease that he must be getting old to be asleep this early, which is met with an unimpressed look from him.

but from that night onwards, it happens a little too... often to be some chance.

every time he drinks, without fail, his head drops onto your shoulder. it's somewhat of a routine to snap a photo of him like this, to admire it in secret before sending it to him, and it's somewhat of a tradition now for him to wake up and instead send you a reserved smile before letting himself doze off on your shoulder again.

not that either of you are complaining.

blade, jing yuan, caelus, welt

➤ IF YOU LIKED THIS, TRY ... do you want somebody like i want somebody?

[gibsongirlsundaymorning]

noise complaints (part 2)

A/N: Fine you gay people win. Here’s part two… sorry if it’s horrible, I am NOT a writer and I did NOT spellcheck this. Also I now realize she was technically going by Agnes at the time bc she was still under the spell when she was in her cop era… too lazy late to fix it ❤️

Summary: After Agatha finds you and Rio outside of the party she busted surrounded by two guys from your high school, she feels she has a few lessons to teach you two. (Reading part one is highly suggested!)

Warnings: smut, strap-on use, degradation and praise, vouyerism, impact play, fingering, oral, punishment, mean!Agatha, gunplay if you squint and spin three times, orgasm denial, bondage, masturbation, Rio being too bratty for her own good, use of “Y/N”, I don’t know if I can be more specific than this, it’s filth!

Pairing: Older!Cop!Dom!Agatha x Younger!Sub!R x Brat!Sub!Rio

NSFW below the cut MDNI!

After the cruel scolding that was sure to be only the beginning of the harsh words you and Rio would face that night, Agatha drags the two of you back to her patrol car by your wrists. You stumbled over your feet, trying your hardest to keep up with your furious girlfriend; Meanwhile Rio dragged her feet along reluctantly, trying desperately to keep up her careless, tough exterior and get a rise out of the cop.

Rio is thrown into the passenger side of the car, her hair nearly caught in the door as Agatha slams it, leading you towards the back door.

“At least one of my sluts is eager to please… Keep it up and maybe you can get what you want tonight.” She shouts the last part, addressing you, but directing the comment towards your brattier counterpart, who was now fidgeting in the front seat.

Agatha gets in the car, starting it up and taking off on the short ride back to your shared home. Rio’s placement in the front of the car was meant to keep her in check, keep her in Agatha’s direct line of vision and in close reach for reprimand. Rio had different ideas of how to use her forced proximity.

Your older girlfriend’s breathing had just reached some sort of equilibrium, no longer audibly seething through her breaths alone, when Rio reached over the console and slid her hand into Agatha’s lap. Much to your horror, Agatha just laughs.

“You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into, doll. You have five seconds to take your hand and keep it to yourself before I decide you’ll be sleeping in the guest room for the next week.” Rio, of course, waits until the very end of those five seconds before dragging her hand back across Agatha’s lap, making sure to brush her covered core ever-so-slightly before bringing it back to her side of the console to pout. You shudder under the reflection of Agatha’s hooded gaze in the rear view mirror as she grinds her teeth down against each other in a fiery frustration.

The silence and tension grows more and more palpable as the drive comes to an end when Agatha throws the cruiser into park at the top of your driveway, right next to Rio’s precious bike. She wasn’t exactly being careful to swerve away from it.

Before you could even think of reaching for your door handle, it was thrown open and you and Rio were being forced into the home. You were at the front, being pushed into the house by Agatha’s right hand, which was tangled in your hair and gripping it into a ponytail. Rio was being dragged in the back by Agatha’s tight grip on her ear. If you didn’t know better, you’d be giggling at the way the slightly taller girl resembled a misbehaving child being scolded by her upset mother. If Rio knew better, she wouldn’t have acted like a misbehaving child.

It was clearly too late for this when Agatha practically tossed you two into the house, all in the same manner as you’d seen her do with her bags after a long day at work. She ran her tongue between her top teeth and her top lip as she looked you and your girlfriend up and down, almost as if deciding between a library of options for how to deal with the two of you.

“Both of you, go to my room now and be ready for me in the next minute… Y/N, pick something pretty out from my drawer, would you, hun?” With that, she had decided.

As you and Rio made your way into your bedroom and Rio made her way to the edge of the bed, you slid the drawer open and instinctively grabbed your favorite from the assortment, a small and quiet but powerful bullet that Agatha could control from her phone. You were hoping she’d use it on you again, but there was no point in asking once she walked in, because it would almost surely earn you the exact opposite.

She walks in to find you sitting on your heels at the same spot at the edge of the bed where Rio sat, manspreading and fidgeting with the seam on her shirt. She takes the small purple toy from your hands and kisses the top of your head, a chillingly gentle gesture in contrast with her bubbling anger that night. Her hand slips from the side of your jaw to the underside of your chin, tilting your head up just a bit so that you were looking up and meeting her eyes with your own. “Such a good choice, sweet girl.”

She then turns to Rio, who hasn’t yet given up her false tough demeanor. “Kiss her. How you were before I walked in early tonight. Pretend I’m not even here, and God help you if you hold back even the slightest bit.” With that, she sat down in the large armchair directly in the eye line from where you sat.

Rio smiles slyly and slides her hands into the back of your head, tangling her digits in your hair as she meets your lips with her own. Your own hands, shaking, find her hips as she deepens the kiss and straddles you as you’re still sitting on your knees with rigid posture that reflects your nervousness outwardly. When you finally melt into her touch the slightest bit, losing yourself in her confident dominance, you hear Agatha stand and are suddenly enveloped in her shadow as Rio is yanking away from you.

Or rather, being yanked away. You note Agatha’s grip around Rio’s waves as she speaks in an even more gravely voice than usual, “That was your final chance to prove yourself as something more than a greedy bitch. Get in the chair.”

She swallows, devoid of any of the dominance from seconds prior, and climbs into the chair Agatha had just risen from. The latter takes Rio’s seat next to you, but lifts you onto her lap with your right leg slotted between her own, your center falling onto the top of her right thigh. Once you could see clearly again as the rush of her rough fingers around your waist simmered the smallest bit, you realized you were sitting on something… hard? and let out an involuntary whisper.

Agatha looks down at where your legs meet and then back at you, grinning like the devil, as Rio writhes in her seat. Agatha immediately clocks the movement from over your shoulder. “If you ever want me to make you come again, you’ll sit still and enjoy the show I’m so generously giving you after your disgusting displays tonight.” Rio reluctantly complies. She returns her attention to you, now digging her fingers into your hips with bruising force, and guides you ever-so-slightly back and forth against the pressure below you. “Agatha?” you breathe out.

“Yeah, angel?” The title almost makes you forget what was supposed to follow your initial words. The hardness below you reminds you quickly. “Are you… did you wear the strap to work?” you nearly whisper, the question barely audible to your other girlfriend, who sat still now and held onto every word from you and the woman below you uttered. “No, baby, try again.”

It seems as if all the blood in your body rushes to your face as you realize that what you were grinding down onto wasn’t the strap you’d been mercilessly filled with time after time, but her patrol weapon. It was mind-blowingly filthy and embarrassing to you, which brought both Agatha and Rio more pleasure than any other act the three of you had carried out together could. “Keep moving those pretty hips, hun. Don’t shy away from being a slut now, it’s a little too late for that.” You bit your lip hard enough to taste the same metallic tang from before you left the same room earlier that night as you hid your blushing face in the crook of the cop’s neck.

“Hey, come back, angel, I’ve got a question for you.” You look up reluctantly, dreading the eye contact you knew she would demand as you spoke. “Yes ma’am.” She chuckled lowly at this, “Oh, what, now you wanna be good for me? Nice try. What I was wondering…. was if you think our greedy girl over there should get to join us.” You look over your shoulder at the desperate woman, your eyes glossing over at the sight of her thighs pressed together so tightly they could surely suffocate you if your head found its way between them as it so often did. You turn back to Agatha and offer only a nod, not trusting your breath to stay loyal to you.

Agatha curled a finger, beckoning your girlfriend over and watching as she scrambled to the bed. “Now, Y/N, do you think I should use this” she held up the toy you’d previously picked out from her collection “on Rio here? Think it’d be fun to see her crumble under the stimulation and forget all about her little stone-cold act?” You nodded quicker than you knew possible. “No, I need words.” You swallow and breathe in shakily, hips still moving on their own accord. “Yes. Please, wanna see.” She just smiles and lifts you off of her leg as she readies her attention on the other girl.

“I think she has to earn it.”

Ok guys this was like… part 1.5, the first half of part 2 of the OG post. The rest of the warnings will apply to the next part if they weren’t in this one, and I’m hoping to have that one out like the middle of next week! LMK what yall wanna see in the next part beside what I have planned :)

Also for those who wanted to be tagged: @sunshine-makes-flowers-grow @wandaslittlelove @babybeeelle @believe-in-magic13 @reeselov3salexvause @ahintofchaos @girlwithissuesworld @lovelyy-moonlight @teenybean @jorddddddddd

[eerna]

When I think about arcane arc 2, I’m just really :/ that it feels like they dropped the ball on their generational trauma theme. Like, we didn’t properly explore Ambessa and Cait’s new dynamic and Caitlyn had no reflection on her mother’s death anymore, Ambessa forgot about Mel??, Jinx was “fixed” by Isha, we have once again sidelined Ekko and his revolutionaries plot, and Vi and Jinx, who were trying to Kill each other two eps ago, are chill now (listen the catty fight was fun but ya know. besides that.) Like what about revolution eating up innocence and your sons and daughters and toxic coping strategies being passed down! Idk, I guess has someone who is a bit of a tragedy enjoyer (tho I like optimistic/happy endings lol) and someone who really likes toxic nuanced relationship (and arcane really focused on familial too!! which I love) I feel they really lost themselves trying to go the fluff route. This just isn’t that type of show. This is also why I think Vander’s character kinda threw a wrench in season 2; was there really a point to be made in bringing him back? Kinda thought he had already served his purpose but Idk! There’s other things to critique, and even things I enjoyed too, but I think if I had to boil down the main sentiment why I didn’t like arc two, it would be losing this character thread. So much of season 1 hinged on it, so many great scenes came out of it, feels bizarre fumbling it so bad in arc 2…

Yeah T.T The Vander one hits especially hard, because like. He really is done here. There is no reason for him to exist in the story anymore. The show even agrees with us, they brought him back ONLY to take him away from the girls again, and that is just stupid and boring. Sure, Warwick has to exist bc LoL, but there was no need to introduce him into the plot - the hints in s1 were plenty enough to give him a backstory.

And the most important part: WHAT ABOUT REVOLUTION EATING UP INNOCENCE AND YOUR SONS AND DAUGHTERS AND TOXIC COPING STRATEGIES BEING PASSED DOWN!!! HELLO???? THE MAIN THEME OF SEASON 1???????? It was about a bunch of revolutionaries trying to do good for their families, and how good intentions don't mean good results. Vi learned the passive rejection of a revolution from Vander, Jinx learned individualistic toxic obsession from Silco, Mel rejected her mother's "kill before you get killed" policy. None of this is important in s2 anymore!! I thought Isha would die in an act of revolution, bringing home the "is revolution worth risking the people you are doing it for in the first place" theme, but no. No! Because we are abandoning that line of thought! And you're right, the reason for that is the dumb family fluff they suddenly pivoted into. I adore family stories and relationships, but I'm not buying the Vander-Jinx-Vi-Isha unit for a moment. Jinx-Isha-Sevika, which had good setups, was abandoned and for WHAT!!!! CHEAP FLUFF???? Augh. Sad.

[yuyusuyu]

bloody hell — the emos

synopsis. oh, if only, if only she hadn't crossed paths with him. then maybe, just maybe, all of this could've been avoided... except, it was bound to happen by fate. there was no escaping the fate that was given to you at birth.

pairing. ot8! vampire! ateez x fem! reader (not poly! everyone will have their own ending!)

genres/aus. vampire au, suspense, romance, angst, slow burn

warnings. mentions of being watched, cursing. if there's anything i should add, please lmk !

rating. pg-13

wc. 3.2k lol...

a/n. this was nawt proofread... super duperrr sorry for uploading late !! was very busy and am very busy right now but things should calm down during december !! this is also a long chapter bc i deadass forgot to include the first part last chapter LOLLLL

send an ask in my inbox or leave a comment to be added to the taglist! reblogs and comments are appreciated! helps with not getting shadowbanned!

TODAY IS CLOUDY AND SOMEWHAT CHILLY, though you don't mind it. you see people who are bundled up with scarves hanging around their necks, some of them even wearing mittens to protect their skin from the biting chill in the air. september has its own few days of cold before october settles in, today being one of them.

you rip your eyes from passing students down to the bag in your hand, the plastic wrinkling as you shift on your feet to lean against the familiar black car beside you. jongho’s borrowed clothes lay folded neatly inside, smelling of the expensive kind of detergent you bought to wash it. you sigh and close your eyes, your head hurting just thinking about how much the detergent cost. jongho doesn’t care about these things, you know that, yet you can’t help but care when it comes to him.

it’s no question that he’s well off, maybe even rich but you can’t gauge just how much he is. you’ve been aware of such things ever since you first met him three years ago, how your classmates from then used to whisper about the things he wore, his belongings, everything. and so you’re so painfully aware of it all now, the expensive things he owns, how you’re extra careful around him at times.

though he may not be like her, flaunting around the wealth he has and making snide remarks about how you should be careful or how poor you are, you don’t want to risk it.

she’s made you have these bad habits, the ones where you care too much over things like this that shouldn’t matter.

“i hope i didn’t keep you waiting long.”

jongho wears a beanie, hiding the purple streaks in his hair from your eyes. he rounds the car and opens one of the back doors, dumping his practice bag and his backpack in the backseat. you hop inside his car quietly and buckle your seatbelt just as he sits in the driver’s seat.

“you didn’t take long,” you say, glancing at him.

he hums and sits quietly, shoulders slumping just the slightest bit.

“are you… okay?”

jongho tilts his head to look at you, a tired smile on his lips. “yeah,” he breathes out, “it’s just been,” he pauses, “a long day.”

by the way he sits up to start the car, by how his shoulders relax and tense all at the same time, you decide to not ask him about it and keep quiet, watching as jongho drives away from the campus.

“do you want me to pick him up?”

you turn away from the window and blink at the male. “what?”

jongho’s lips quirk upwards, clearly amused. “we’re here already. you know,” he points at the middle school building on the other side of the street from where he’s parked the car, “kou’s school.” he leans over the control board, and presses his index finger to your forehead, pushing your head back. “what’s got you distracted, hm?”

you open your mouth to reply, finding that it’s dry but you’re interrupted by the swinging door from behind jongho’s seat. jongho leans away from you as your brother gets inside the car, sporting a bright and infectious smile.

“sis!” kou drops his backpack by his feet after closing the door, hurling himself at you and attempting to hug you. you laugh when he pulls away, rubbing his head after hitting it against the roof of the car.

“woah there, little guy,” jongho says, his dark eyes gleaming with mirth, “careful.”

kou apologizes, smiling sheepishly at him. “hyung,” he says, settling in the backseat, “are you staying tonight?”

“sure am, champ.” the older male watches kou through the rearview mirror, only putting the car in drive once he’s buckled up.

the eleven year old gushes about his day: what he learned in math and science, how literature class was boring, how he and his friends played a lot during their break. you don’t register jongho’s taken you to the mall until kou starts pouting and wishes you wouldn’t have to work today so you can spend time with him and his hyung. you have to promise to dedicate saturday to only him and jongho, and that’s when kou beams and lets you leave.

“no way you just got here.”

“oh shut up, mingi.” you roll your eyes at the male that twists around to walk right in front of you. “you’re going to trip if you keep walking backwards like that.”

mingi shrugs. “i’ll be fine,” he says, “but how come you’re just arriving?” he raises an eyebrow at you. “you’re an early bird.”

“nosey much?” you mumble, walking past him in a hurry, “hurry the fuck up, mingi. we have less than ten minutes to get to the store.”

the tall male loudly laughs, clearly entertained by your behavior, and follows closely behind you, pestering you with questions.

mingi leans down, wearing a look of disgust as he glances between you and the incoming flock of people. “the emos just keep coming and coming,” he whispers, standing up straight and walking out towards the cashier to tend to the person waiting to buy their items. mingi grins at them, leaving you alone to roll your eyes as you focus back on the task at hand: unboxing and sorting the new merchandise onto the shelves.

which should be mingi’s job right now.

true to mingi’s words, the emos do keep filing into the store to keep buying the edgy jewelry in stock, just like every tuesday evening and the ones before that. you huff through your nose, wiggling your fingers and stretching your arms just as mingi walks into the back, your closing shift manager praising him for getting through the emo rush in one piece while they go to flip the open sign to the closed side.

“kill me now,” mingi groans, dramatically flopping onto the makeshift chair you two had made earlier before the emo rush started (something mingi prides himself for coming up with) and falls through it because you had emptied it long ago. “the emos need to find a new store for their stupid shit!” his hands fly up and attempt to tug at his long, black hair, trying to play it cool as he quickly stands up and dusts his baggy jeans.

you snort and bite your tongue to hold back a laugh when your coworker glares at you. leaning down to grab the last couple of shirts in a box before walking back into the store, mingi follows after you with an unopened box in his hand. “you also like that stupid shit they wear… you know, the jewelry. so doesn’t that make you an emo, too?”

mingi gasps, slapping your arm as you two stand next to each other. you chortle as he tears the box open with a cutter, grumbling about how foul it was of you to say that about him. “you’re evil,” he says, lazily throwing shirts and shirts onto the shelves. “how could you call me an emo? do you know how derogatory that term is to me? and this jewelry is mine, so the emos can go suck a nut and find a different store!”

laughing, you place the last shirt in your hand onto the shelf, giving mingi’s back a singular pat. “right, sorry,” you cough. “you’re definitely… not an emo… my bad.”

puffing his chest out, the pink haired male points at the box at his feet, crossing his arms afterwards. “apology accepted… only if you help me with the last box.”

“oh no,” you take a step back, arms raised in the air as you shake your head. “i’m not helping you. you basically left me alone to go through twenty damn boxes while you handled the emos. that’s my job. you’re not very slick when it comes to trying to get out of the things you have to do, mingi.”

mingi scoffs and narrows his eyes. “actually, you were supposed to do that today and i was supposed to be out at the cashier.” when you deadpan and point at something behind him, mingi raises his eyebrow before turning around. he gulps and looks back at you, smiling sheepishly.

you, as always, are right: you were going to be at the cashier and mingi was going to unload the boxes.

“well…”

“well…” you repeat his words, smiling in amusement as mingi scratches the back of his neck.

“well… the manager actually said that they forgot to change the board for today!”

“mingi, i literally saw the manager change the board today when you clocked in late.” you grimace at him, “by the way, how the hell did that even happen? we got here at the same time.”

the male gapes at you. “what? no, he didn’t! don’t lie to me, yn! and… actually, i have no excuse for clocking in late.”

you shrug, walking into the employee room. “i’ll ask the manager and send proof later!”

“what? yn, wait! don’t—”

you grin, twirling around and taking a step back at how mingi is quite literally right behind. you’re surprised at how quick he was able to get to you. clearing your throat, you turn back and head towards the locker you put your things in. “i’m just messing with you, mingi.”

“oh thank goodness,” he says, sighing and heading over to where he put his things.

the first thing you grab upon opening your locker is your phone, turn it on and read the messages jongho sent you.

jjongs: hey, i won’t be able to pick you up tonight

jjongs: i just finished helping him with his homework and he wants me to read him a story

jjongs: i won’t be able to get there in time when you get out

you sigh.

you: don’t worry about it, jjongs

jjongs: i’m so sorry

you: i said it’s ok

jjongs: text me when you’re on your way so i can come out and get you

you: seeing me outside my own apartment building is sooo romantic and chivalrous of you

jjongs: can’t have a fair lady like yourself be out in the dark for long

you: LOL?

jjongs: oooo you want me so bad

you: in your dreams wtf

you: i’m leaving the store right now so i’ll text you once i’m out

jjongs: ok

you and mingi shut your lockers at the same time, a loud thud resonating in the room. then, the two of you walk out, making sure to say goodbye to the closing shift manager before heading out of the store, walking down the almost empty halls of the mall. once outside, you quickly bid mingi goodbye and take a step forward when mingi speaks.

“it’s really late,” he says, looking down at his phone with furrowed eyebrows. he puts it back into the pocket of his jacket, stuffing his hands into them and looks up at you. “i’ll walk you home.”

you sigh and smile, shaking your head. “i live far away, and i have to take two buses to get back. i wouldn’t want to bother you anyways.”

mingi looks at you through squinted eyes. “it’s late and it’s dangerous for women to be out at this time. i don’t want to be lonely without having my favorite coworker around to bug all because you decided to walk alone at night,” he huffs.

“damn,” you say, eyes slightly wide as you raise your arms up in mock surrender. “okay, fine. you win. you can come along, but don’t say i didn’t warn you.”

“puh-lease,” mingi snorts, joining you as you walk towards the bus stop. “how far could you possibly live from this place?

“holy shit, you really weren’t lying when you said that you lived far away.” mingi gasps as you two exit the last bus you had to take to get to your apartment.

you glance at mingi from the corner of your eye. “there’s still some walking to do if you’re still so adamant on seeing me off. honestly,” you sigh, stopping. “you really didn’t have to come all the way here, mingi. i’ve been doing this for a while, so i’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“i don’t care,” mingi says, crossing his arms over his chest. “i’m being a good friend right now.”

“a good friend?” you tilt your head, surprised. “since when did we become good friends?”

“since we started working together,” he replies, his tone so serious that it takes you aback.

you didn’t know he considered you as such.

“how are we supposed to be good friends when we barely know each other and only work together a couple days every week ?” you grumble, clutching onto your bag as you resume your trek to your apartment. it’s already late, and you feel bad for not being there to tuck your brother away to sleep

“we can start getting to know each other right now,” mingi says, catching up to you quickly. he bumps shoulders with you, grinning. “i’ll start. i really like girls.”

“no shit,” you laugh.

mingi looks at you in surprise.

you’ve never really… laughed like this before. you usually laugh quietly but never this loudly to the point that your eyes are closed and your head is thrown back in amusement, your hands covering your mouth in… embarrassment, maybe? or is it out of habit? he’d like to know.

“you’re always flirting with the female customers.” your laughter subsides into giggles, and you playfully elbow his side.

mingi scoffs. “i do not!”

you stare at him.

“...well, maybe you’re right—”

“nope,” you cut him off. “i am right.”

“well, what about you?” mingi quickly says. “what do you like?”

you hum in thought. “well, i like school.”

“really?” he laughs. “you like school?”

you shrug as you both pass the pharmacy, and you make a mental note that you have to pick up kou’s medicine tomorrow morning. “yeah,” you reply. “i like school. gives me something to do and look forward to…”

mingi frowns at the tone in your voice. something to do and look forward to, she says…

it’s then that you stop. mingi blinks a couple times and looks up, coming face to face with a run-down apartment complex. he looks between you and the building, surprised.

she… lives here?

“well,” you look at him, smiling. “thank you for walking me all the way here, mingi. you really didn’t have to, but i appreciate it nonetheless.”

“oh,” he says, “it’s no big deal… listen, is it alright if i head in with you?”

you cock an eyebrow at this. “why?”

“just to make sure no weirdo tries following you back to your place.”

again, you laugh. “no one’s going to follow me, mingi.”

“but—”

you walk towards the entrance and push the doors open, saying, “goodnight, mingi,” before the doors close and you disappear up the stairs, leaving mingi staring after you.

“ah shit,” you groan, pinching your nose. you forgot to text jongho. well, you shrug, it’s not like i’ll get in trouble. jjongs is just a friend.

the walk to your faded apartment door with the very ugly numbers of ‘117’ plastered on right beneath the peephole stare right back at you. as you rummage through your bag to find your keys, the door suddenly swings open and a boy that reaches your shoulders grins widely at you.

“sis!”

“kou,” you say, baffled. “why are you still awake?” jongho leans over the kitchen counter from behind kou. “what’s he doing up, jjongs?”

kou pouts, opening the door wider as you slip inside, kicking your shoes off and turning around, waiting for your brother’s answer. the boy looks up at you. “i wanted us to read together before i went to sleep… i’m sorry—”

“mhm,” jongho hums out in agreement, turning his back towards you two. “what he said. kou is quite the convincer, you know?” the sound of water running fills the air, and you can only assume that he’s washing dishes.

you sigh, leaning down slightly to ruffle his hair. kou perks up, smiling as he tries leaning into your touch. “there’s nothing to be sorry about, kou.” you stand up, holding out your hand. kou grabs it, and you lead him over to his room. “did you brush your teeth already?”

he nods. “yes. um, sis?”

you hum as you flick the light switch on in kou’s room, ushering him over to his bed. he goes under the covers, and you tuck the duvet right under his nose, pinching it afterwards. kou giggles, “sis, stop!”

“okay, okay.” with one last pinch, you sit back comfortably at the edge of his bed. “what was it that you wanted to ask?”

“oh. um…” kou’s cheeks flush as he looks away. “can you um, put the butterfly clips in my hair again for when i go to school tomorrow? i really like how it looks in my hair.”

“of course!” you coo, kissing both his cheeks. “anything for my little brother.”

“thank you, sis,” he giggles. “can you read to me now?”

“of course—”

kou begins to cough uncontrollably. you’re quick to get on your feet, leaving temporarily and coming back with a cup of water and two pills in your hand. you pat his back as kou carefully takes the glass and pills into his hand, popping them into his mouth before washing them down with the water. once he calms down, he awkwardly lays back down in his bed, screwing his eyes shut.

you know he doesn’t want to talk about it.

so you grab the book you two have been reading together for the past month, finding the page you two last left on and begin reading out loud to him. a couple minutes pass before kou tells you that he’s feeling sleepy. you place the bookmark on the page you just read and place the book back on the nightstand.

“goodnight, kou,” you whisper, giving his forehead a quick kiss, ready to head out when you notice that the window in his room is open. you head over to it, leaning out for a second to feel the night air. a shiver goes down your spine, goosebumps appearing on your arms and the back of your neck. you immediately lean back inside the room, shutting the window and locking it.

it felt like you were being watched… but who the hell would want to watch you?

you're nobody.

you scrunch your nose, deciding to ignore whatever just happened and opting to go freshen up before heading to sleep.

you’ll just have to worry about it if it ever becomes a problem, but for now it isn’t.

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BLOODY HELL | yuyusuyu 2024

[blockboiscraze]

Technically he predicted strippers with his first day with Rubius if I remember correctly, and he got his stripper (Vegetta) 💜

Day 1 ep 1 time: 2:30:27

“Maybe two shots is all it takes” -Prediction; Guns and basically its damage lol

Day 6 ep 6

“I know how to undo handcuffs”

Leans into a prediction where he would become a cop before he wanted to become a cop in a way XD

Day 13 2:02:14 left of the vod

Predicted the chicken assassin- Aka the French’s planned crash on the island

Also predicted Quackitys school when trying to ask Leo for paper to take photos lol

3:01:50

Day 14 1:43:32 left of the vod

Pinky Promise backflip

Foolish predicted Leo would lose her first life, but not her second life

(Failed the first backflip but not the second one)

Day 16 6:40 seconds left of the vod

Predicted that Killing Maxo’s kid would lead to an avalanche of problems (He became a code, raised a robot daughter that may or may not have been used against him and was probably programmed for evil or something, the Nuke from purgatory that would kill him and Jaiden) {I’m making that freaking cannon bc she didn’t come back after purgatory, it would make sense that the nuke would have killed her}

Day 19 1:39:35

“Leonard is like the main character you know?”

(Literally the last egg standing at the end)

If that’s not a foolish prediction energy quote idk what is

Vod 22 Day 23 4:56:49 and 2:32:29

Predicted more eggs would come along after the death of the first three eggs

Predicted that the code would become stronger after it is killed

Predicted that Cellbit would need to look at the colors for his puzzle

'You forget something, When Cellbit was asking the questions on the federation page it didn't get an answer from one,  until foolish told him that the answer was Purple and he actually needed to focus on the colors to get the answer.'

-Quote from someone on Twitter (I forgot who TwT)

Predicted that Cucurucho was actually threatening Richas’s life the one single time he lied to the Brazilians

Predicted Quackitys Kidnapping

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8LfcaBD/

Predicted that they would fight everyone else basically and built a castle

‘If you ever find the World against you I will gladly help you build another castle'

(Purgatory)

Foolish predicted Forever speech in front of the aquarium

https://x.com/ronitheberry/status/1712084108703043643?s=20

Foolish Predicted Cellbits 'Death' and time to go in the hot tub stream 

-.-.-.-.-.

Foolish Predictions LIST

Built the dragon before they had the dragon eggs

Mentions wanting a dragon mob in game Foolish VOD 22 43:20 (Code uses a dragon to attack Eggs- don’t have timestamp)

Foolish’s first drawing is of him Shooting Marianna (Shoots Slime at the Wedding)

Foolish Says he wants to be president befoer the elections are announced

Foolish predicts that each time they kill the code it becomes stronger

Foolish Saying he wants to go back to Purgatory as a Bunny (New Island is Bunny Themed)

Foolish wants Meteors and Dinosaurs Purgatory has a meteor disaster

New Server Has Dinos that you can take and ride

[prncssie]

STRAWBERRY MERINGUE

caution! mdni 6k wrdz, hobie smokes weed, you’re drunk n contact high, you get it blown in your face, exhibitionism, kinda voyeurism, use of the word nigga, use of the word pussy and cunt, public sex, fingering f. receiving, oral m. receiving, sharing of cum, degradation barely ( use of the word bitch and slut once), choking but not really, brat taming if you squint, unprotected sex, pull out method, lmk if i missed anything! pls do not spam like my blog if you enjoyed it, feel free to tell me in the reblogs

hobie takes a long drawl of the blunt between his lips. his eyes are half lidded and his head is tilted back. in the dim lighting, you can barely tell his scleras are red but they are, pupils low and moving slow across the scenery.

he’s careful, knowing that you hate the smell. he doesn’t get it, though. you grumble every time he sparks up, claiming the smell reminds you of body odor, until you’re intoxicated yourself.

tonight, you’re indulging a bit, drunk off mixed liquors so you don’t mind. it’s the last thing you’re thinking about when he sits up and slots his mouth over yours. he blows the smoke into you, ending with a sloppy kiss.

you don’t smoke, or at least that’s what you claim. in a way, you don’t, never actually putting the paper to your lips. you just steal whatever hobie gives you because in your pretty, little head, it’s somehow better.

your body feels heavy. you’re so crossed, not thinking about how you’re tonguing hobie down in front of his friends. they’re not paying you much attention, either. this isn’t surprising, not with the explicit details hobie sometimes shares. it happens every party anyway. as long as you are both intoxicated, you’re unable to keep your hands off each other.

you mewl when he adjusts you in his lap, one hand on your back to draw you forward. your eyes flutter and your hands run over the navy blue mesh of his top. his tongue piercing is warm and bumping against the roof of your mouth.

you’re straddling his lap, standing out in the group of punks with your sparkly pink tank top and denim miniskirt. underneath you, hobie is your opposite in low waisted jeans, distressed and dark. his chains are layered and occasionally clink against each other when he moves.

you’re so in love with him and his little v line, peeking through the sliver of skin visible. you’re too greedy, grinding against his studded belt. the rhinestones don’t bump and graze your sensitive parts enough.

“mm mm,” he hums against your lips. “not here.” he kisses your cheek and creates just a bit of space between you in an attempt to keep you settled. his heart swells at the adorable disappointment in your eyes but he knows better than to comment on it. you like to villainize whatever you can to get your way and he doesn’t want to deal with you the way he usually does right here with everyone’s somewhat watchful eyes.

you sulk when he grins. he only tunes you out and takes another huff of the rolled blunt. “you jealous?” he chuckles at the expression riri, one of his bandmates, sports.

her face is contorted in disgust, being the unfortunate one to catch you two at the wrong time. “no, you’re just gross. i’ve never seen a couple so all over each other than you.”

hobie merely raises his shoulders in a halfhearted shrug. “i told you she was coming. you knew what that meant.” he exhales the smoke in your face again, mockingly sneering at his friend when you welcome it.

you barely hear their conversation between the insatiable throbbing in your core and the need to get inside hobie’s skin. you cling on to him and rest your head in the crook of his neck. he rubs your side while you mindlessly litter dark purple hickies along his collar. his hands come up to graze your arm.

it’s his party, or rather, their party. in celebration, his band decided to have a small get together to celebrate the release of their mixtape. it was supposed to be small. now it’s turned into a house party with the amount of plus ones in attendance.

the music causes a buzz in your bloodstream. you’re delirious and horny out of your mind. somewhere down the line, you made the conscious decision to down a hefty amount of casamigos and now you’re dealing with the consequences. “ ‘bie,” you snivel. you take his hand and guide it in between your bodies until his fingers are over the growing and slightly damp spot over your panties. you pant when he applies pressure, swiping aimlessly back and forth.

the dull ache in your stomach is heightened because of his toying. your drunken mind has you trying to push down on him, only for him to remove his hand with a click of his tongue. “i told you not here. gonna have to wait, pretty girl.”

hobie can’t tell if he’s seeing things when your lips tremble. he squints, both trying to examine the details through the haze and deter you from throwing a tantrum. you’re already halfway there, assuming he doesn’t care about what you want. you’re just about to give him a piece of your mind when you’re interrupted, timed perfectly.

“hey hobes?”

both your heads turn, spotting another band member stood to the side.

karl looks untroubled as he crashes somewhere on the couch. he hums as he gets comfortable, eyes scanning the crowd with a mischievous smile. “won’t believe what i gotta tell you.

“yeah?” hobie dangles one long arm off the back of the couch. he rests his head on his shoulder. the action both distracts and reminds you of your mission to decorate him in love bites.

you’re unaware of how karl turns, nodding his head in your direction. “some fucker wants to get to know your girl. saw us walking around and thought we were cool, thinks I can make something happen.”

you remain unaware still. the words don’t click in your head, no matter that hobie is speaking right here with you in his lap.

“oh?” he laughs a bit at the thought. it doesn’t bother him and happens more frequently than one would think. he’s gotten used to their gross antics but he doesn’t feel jealous. no, he’s pleased. pleased that someone else can recognize that he’s got the best girl. “hear that, princess? got a second boyfriend.” his eyes are downcast and on you.

you’re too dazed and busy to listen, covering every part of his skin until there is no space left. “don’t care,” you murmur. you’re not sure what you’re uncaring towards but it doesn’t matter. not when there are more important tasks to deal with.

hobie pulls you up by the neckline. he’s not shocked when you’re already glaring at him, convinced that, at this point, he’s torturing you. “you should. it’s rude to not speak to someone, you know.”

you feel so incredibly petulant beyond words. you blow a short breath through your nose. it takes you a second to find it, find your tone and patience. unfortunately, you can’t. “huh?” you snap.

fortunately, hobie doesn’t care. “you got a valentine or whatever the fuck. should go to talk to him.”

you know it’s not really a request.

it’s a game you both play, showing off your relationship to anyone who’ll see. as much as you hate being ripped away from him at times like this, you enjoy the game, too. it usually ends all hot and heavy, just how you like it.

before you’re standing he holds up a finger to karl, motioning the man to wait. hobie brings the blunt to his lip and immediately shotguns it into yours. he’s nasty about it, a hand groping your ass and rolling your hips down into his.

“jesus christ,” karl mutters. his face is scrunched up and even if the dark lighting, you can tell his cheeks are firetruck red.

yeah, showing off your relationship to anyone who’ll see.

you grin, patting karl’s shoulder as you stand. admittedly, you stumble a bit. your balance is all fucked up and you probably aren’t making the best decisions. “this will be you one day, bud.”

karl takes your hand in his. he can already tell you won’t be able to make it across the room without aid. you probably haven’t stood up since you sat down, too busy damn near dry humping hobie. “gee, i can only hope.”

hobie sighs, a deep rumble spreads in his chest. “not a scratch, karl.” he takes his eyes over you from head to toe, as slow as he can afford. they starting at your heels, up to the buns on either side of your head.

“we’re gonna go pimp her out, not to war.” the other rolls his eyes, trading his hand in yours to your elbow, both for more support and because he doesn’t know where you put it.

you both begin your trek around the quite spacious living room. you don’t know where you’re going and occasionally, you’re tripping over yourself. it’s not all that bad. most of the fault is because you decided to wear heels and even though they were thick and blocky, it didn’t do much in your current state.

your ankle wobbles and karl has to yank you upright. he doesn’t know how you haven’t injured yourself by now. maybe you are going to war, but with yourself. “what the hell? how much did you drink?”

you giggle with a shake of your head. “didn’t count. it’s fine! ‘m not blacked, just tipsy, maybe. oh and a little high.” you’re really not that far under the influence, you think. most of the influence is pure lust and when it’s subtracted from the occasion, you’re all bubbly.

karl looks over your shoulder. his attention is behind you and you see him wave someone over. “yeah well, try not to bust your ass. i’m calling that guy over now. his name is fuckin’ max or something like that.”

you completely forgot that’s what you came over for. it’s only been a few steps but between your bumbling and laughter, it slipped your mind. “oh. are you gonna stick around?”

“hell no,” karl sucks in his breath. his face twists and he points in pinky at hobie. “i don’t wanna be here when he gets up. you two are bad enough when you’re calm.”

sure enough, he’s still watching with a clear view from the couch in the corner. he lifts his fingers and wiggles them in a wave. you lick your lips at the sight of his hands. your pussy throbs at the thought of them pushing deep inside you.

“yeah, i’m out.” karl waves his hand in front of your face to get your attention. “i’ll be around if you need me. just call, i’ll hear you.” he doesn’t want to experience what you freaks are about to get into but he also doesn’t want to leave you here, faded with a man you don’t know.

he waits until the trade off happens and you’re left semi alone. you’re not exactly shy but nothing comes to mind. you’re uninterested, having already committing yourself to another. “max?”

“mark,” he says. he doesn’t look like anything interesting. sagging his jeans and wearing an ill fitting shirt. definitely not your type. if you lost him in a crowd, he’d disappear. his first mistake would be losing you in the first place.

however, if you want to be tossed onto the nearest surface, you have to push through it. “oh my gosh, i’m so sorry!” you flash a smile. you rock back on your feet, only to trip over yourself. without karl holding you up, you find yourself grasping for balance. an honest giggle leaves your lips at your clumsiness but it’s mistaken for delight.

mark’s hands grab at your waist and your first thought is how they don’t compare. they’re much smaller and he definitely isn’t handling you with care. you have to remind yourself not to frown when you’re jostled back onto your feet. “havin’ a lot of fun tonight? your nigga didn’t stop you?”

you can’t stop looking at his hand still holding on to you. if you weren’t turned off by his appearance, you are now with his lack of awareness. you make an excuse to bump his hand off when you “adjust” the top of your shirt. “who, karl? karl and i are not . . . definitely not.”

in mark’s head, this means you don’t have one. even if you did, there’s much doubt he’d care. “so what? you don’t have one then. you want one?”

“um . . .” you flick your eyes over to hobie. you know he’s still watching and knows it’s a universal sign that you can’t take anymore of this. “i do have one. just not him so . . .” you gather your hands together and curl them into each other.

“you can’t have friends? we don’t gotta do nothin’, just chill.” he speaks with his hands. they’re waving all in the air and smacking against each other. typically it wouldn’t annoy you but you really just don’t like this guy. “i mean, you don’t gotta tell him. he ain’t gonna go shit, anyway.”

you scoff to yourself. before you have a chance to defend your lanky little stick bug, a familiar presence subtly appears at your side.

you turn to him before he’s even looking at you.

his hand is on your cheek, gingerly. hobie isn’t glaring, nor is he smug but there’s something about him. as if he knows something mark doesn’t. and he does. he knows mark doesn’t stand a chance, knows he’s going to be upset someone like hobie has you wrapped around his finger. he knows he’s not going like the way he dresses and talks. he’s going to go off to his friends and call hobie a bitch and whatever other caveman words he can think of.

that’s exactly why he doesn’t stand a chance.

“made a new friend?” hobie finally looks at you. his gaze softens immediately and he moves forward to kiss your lips.

“something like that.” you sigh sweetly. even with your shoes, you don’t compare to his height. you have to pull yourself up. your aim is to deepen the kiss, biting his bottom lip when he doesn’t oblige.

hobie only pats your butt and you pout. “thanks for comin’, man. we really appreciate it.” he doesn’t offer any sign of respect. it won’t be returned. call him mean, say he’s stereotyping, but he has enough experience to know when someone will appreciate his presence and when someone won’t.

mark grimaces. he gives hobie a once over, obviously not happy with what he’s seeing. “this is your thing? shit. if i knew that, i wouldn’t have came.”

you feel something vile bubbling up in your throat. your stomach churns at his words. how dare he? he looks like every other person in the room, in this place that hobie pays for, and insults him like he’s worth something.

“well, it’s a good thing i told you then, huh? leave if you want to. have a good night.” hobie speaks before you do. he wraps his arm around your shoulder and slots his hand over your mouth. knowing your temper, he doesn’t need you making anything worse.

you both watch him stalk off in two different moods. hobie is just as calm as ever. he lets his aggression roll of his back like nothing. meanwhile, you’re grumbling about what a terrible person he is, how you don’t like him and anything you stands for.

“dumb bitch. that’s why you’re weird and bitchless.” you’re more upset he ruined the way things are supposed to go. hobie is supposed to take you in his arms and fluster both you and the third person. instead, you end up grumpy.

hobie chuckles. he massages your shoulder, adoringly watching you go on and on about how he sucks. “yeah? what’d he say to you?”

the thought alone has you groaning and going on another spiel. “he asked if you let me ‘have friends’ and ‘i don’t have to tell you’.” you crinkle your nose. as if you’d ever cheat and lie about it, or lie about anything at all. there’s no secrets in between you two and if there is any ever hesitation, it comes out eventually when the other person is ready. you can’t imagine keeping anything from him with ill intent. “you should have clocked him in the jaw,” you pivot and face him. you’re extra careful not to do it too fast and wrap your arms around his thin waist.

“while you’re standing right here? not gonna do that.” he hooks his hands under your arms and lifts you onto his waist. “you get hurt and i’ll blow this whole place up.”

with your little skirt, half your ass is out. you squeal, a hand going down to maintain as much modesty as you can. hobie is no help. he doesn’t care. his freak ass wants someone to see. getting rid of one person doesn’t mean everyone else’s eyes are no longer wandering.

he takes you back over to your original resting spot without struggle despite your wiggling and complaining that he isn’t doing anything to help you. he plops back down back, smirking when you’re bouncing from the impact. your hands fly to his shoulders to steady yourself.

“you’re done smoking?” you look around the group and don’t see a blunt in sight. it’s surprising from them, considering they always pass around multiple in rotation every night. you were only gone for a few minutes.

“i am. they’re not.” hobie pulls the strap of your top up. it’s fallen and despite the view of your tits he got, he didn’t particularly want everyone else to see them. not yet, at least.

he runs his hands along the tops of your thighs, straddling him. his thumb dips dangerously on the inner and dig into your bikini line when they run high.

you draw a breath, zeroing in on the action. “oh. why?” you can’t hear him when the need comes crashing back, just as strongly as it did before. you were under the impression this wouldn’t be happening and had no idea he planned on doing it here.

hobie likes you like this. he can never really describe it but you melt so easily. one touch, one graze of his fingertips and you’re all soft. it’s nice you can keep up with his libido but it’s even better when he can keep up with yours. “ ‘cause i don’t want to. why do you think?”

you don’t know what to think right now. not when his thumb grazes over your clit so slowly. it’s always you who’s so worked up while he’s so lax.

you rut against him, lip tucked under your teeth. you don’t know where to put your hands without making it obvious. he’s occupying the space in your lap and you wouldn’t dare clench the front of his shirt.

you settle for behind you, resting on your calves. in hindsight, it has the opposite effect but you’re all dizzy. you pant when he rolls the bud under his pads of his finger. you’re simultaneously regretting and rejoicing in the fact that you decided to wear a thong for the outfit. it’s thin and does nothing to dull the feeling.

a hand reaches into your peripheral. you can see the rolled smoke in between it’s fingers but you can’t be bothered to look over and see who it belongs to.

“thanks,” hobie acknowledges it. he leans into it to take his puff and tilts his head back. the remnants are released in the air rather than your face. the smell mixes with his cologne, musky and woodsy. you wouldn’t like it any other time but now. now, any part of him makes your pussy wet.

“thought you weren’t smoking,” you tilt your hips up and further into his hand.

he lets you, wanting you to become as unnerved as possible. “i wasn’t, then. i am, now.” his attention flicks down to your crotch. hobie wishes the lighting is a little better. he can’t see anything like this. sure, he can see his actions but he can’t see the effect it has on you. he can feel the damp spot when his fingers drift too far down and push into you as far as your underwear will allow.

you squirm, tempted to tug it to the side yourself. you can’t breathe under the pressure of need. how much longer is he going to delay this?

“stop movin’,” he squeezes your hip. “i let you act like act like a bitch in heat for a second but now you’re gettin’ greedy.” he doesn’t usually speak to you like this but when he does, it has you gushing. you keen while your head hangs low.

you clench your hands into fists and screw your eyes shut. “sorry.” you say while giving him your best attempt to sit still.

“and look at me. i’m playing with your cute little pussy. the least you can do is look at me.”

you shake your head in refusal but make eye contact with him, anyway. you’re shy, not because he’s toying with you, but because he’s toying with you in front of his friends, in front of everyone here.

“there you go,” he quietly praises you just under his breath, “there she is.” hobie nudges his way against you, nose poking at your neck. “it’s too bad i can’t suck on it till you’re creaming.”

you jump, your shoulder meeting your ear. it’s unintentional, following the way his breath tickles your skin. “don’t say that,” your voice is all watery.

he pulls the your baby blue panties to the side and sucks his teeth. his eyes are rolling at your words. “don’t say that? i have my fingers deep inside you and you’re telling me not to say that?”

“you don’t – ”

your body falls forward when it happens, when hobie plunges in his fingers without warning. your mouth drops open, knees digging into his side when your legs attempt to close. “ohh,” it leaves your mouth long and drawn out. the sudden stretch of his pointer and middle finger makes your body curl.

“someone just sold me these shrooms.”

you hear the crinkle of a bag somewhere nearby and the sound only gets louder. you can assume it’s being passed around but your blood is pumping in your ears. you breathe heavily, mindlessly sinking your teeth into his shoulder.

“i’d let you hold ‘em, hobes, but . . .”

his body shakes underneath you when he laughs lightly. his fingers don’t stop their incessant movements, stroking your walls. “all good. how much did you pay?”

you writhe when hobie digs into your spot, the palm of his hand bumping against your clit. you can feel a small stream of drool pooling out of your cheek. it’s more so with how chaotic you are, tongue and teeth relishing at his neck.

you feel a heavy arm stilling you against him despite your struggle.

“don’t mind her. she’s just being a baby ‘bout it.” he doesn’t apologize for his explicit acts. he apologizes for your distracting reactions, for your quiet moans. it unnerves you.

here you are, worked up and dripping in front of your boyfriend’s friends. they’re so casual about it and as much as you hate to remember, they’re not wrong to be. hobie gets off on this and by default, you do too.

“is she a baby or are you an absolute ass?”

“you’re gonna irritate me and i’m gonna take it out on her.” his lips is upturned and lazy. “so how much did you pay for it?”

you don’t care to listen to the rest of the conversation. you’re very obviously grinding downward to feel him deeper and it only results in you tightening around him with a gasp. you’re weakly tugging his face until he’s turned around.

he’s not exactly thrilled to be interrupted from his conversation but he takes pity and gives in. your lip connect, tongues immediately tangling with each other. your saliva mixes and he sucks on your tongue to satiate you. on occasion, your teeth bump and crash against each other but it doesn’t discourage you. you only lean into it.

his fingers increase their pace and he ignores the cramp in his wrists. he juts his fingers against the spot that has you digging your nails into him.

this is so surreal. you and your friends always like fun at the people who get off at your college parties. you’ve told hobie the stories in the past but he seemed disinterested. now, you’re those people at those parties and it doesn’t sound as bad.

“you cummin’?” he whispers to you and you alone. he prefers to this part to himself, only you two knowing without speculation.

your lifting your hips to escape the stimulation, mouth running dry from the way it hangs open. “mhm,” you squeal. the ball wound up tight in your core releasing, accompanying spurts of cream.

your chest heaving as you gulp out air. hobie pulls his fingers out with a low squelch only he can hear. a low whistle leaves his lips at the where his fingers glisten. you’re expecting him to press them to your tongue but your eyes widen when they continue to extend outwards. instead, they’re all in riri’s mouth.

they’re both eyeing you and you don’t know what to do. your attention darts between the both of them before focusing on the floor. your hands fiddle with your skirt. your face is burning, your whole body is.

“damn hobes,” she mumbles.

you can still feel their gaze on you, thick and heavy.

his hands are running from your back to your calves and back up again. the saliva is smearing over your skin. “i know. it’s better right from the source.” he slides your panties back in there spot and ignore how disappointed you look.

“ ‘bie,” you want to cry. you don’t want to beg in front of everyone but it’s as if he doesn’t care about you.

“stop your whinin’,” he fixes you with a pointed glare. hobie pushes you off his lap til you’re standing. “we’ll be back.” he doesn’t have to explain himself for everyone to understand what’s happening, not that he would anyway. he gets off the couch and takes your hand in his.

hobie takes you with him, guiding you to the bathroom. both your hands are clasped around his and you’re staring at him, wide eyed, rather than your surroundings.

he can feel you watching him. you’re doe eyed and it makes him harder than he already is. it’s as if he’s the only one that can fix it, and he truly is. hobie nearly tosses you into the bathroom. he slams the door behind him and flicks over the lock.

when he turns around, you’re kneeling and pawing at his jeans. you pout when you undo his zipper.

“what’s wrong, pretty?” hobie hooks his fingers under your chin and lifts it to his. “you don’t have to suck it if you don’t want to.”

“it’s not that,” you pull down his jeans . you wrap your fingers around the base and jerk your hand up and down his shaft. “you embarrassed me really bad.” you poke your cheek with your tongue. “can’t face your friends, now.”

hobie pinches your cheek. he mocks your expression before breaking out in a smile. “didn’t look embarrassed fucking yourself on my fingers. i’m not the one who licked your cum off ‘em.” he squeezes your face together until your lips are puckered.

he slaps his tip against your lips and smears the saliva-precum mix across your cheeks. you’re not moving fast enough, too busy telling him “problems” that he couldn’t care about. you don’t even mean them, just want something to irritate him with.

you shut your lips tightly and cross your arms over your chest. he’s only making you more likely to be difficult. you turn your cheek at him and stare at the rug. “not listening to me.”

hobie sighs and runs his hands over his face. he knows you’re delicate and are quick to throw a fit when you feel you have to. if he doesn’t get you under wraps, he’ll have to put in more effort in the long run. “what is it, baby? because the last time i checked, you’re the one who was about to scream my head off because i didn’t take out my dick right then and there.”

you purse your lips harder. “i wasn’t screaming. you’re being dramatic.”

“i’m being dramatic?” he cannot believe you right now. he squats down until you’re levelled with each other. his hand engulfs you by the throat. he doesn’t squeeze, just holds you close. “you’re mad at me because you came. most of it was your work, though. don’t piss me off.”

neither of you say anything for the passing moment. the only movement made is the small nod of your head.

he releases you following a quick peck on your lips. he stands and you’re back to your previous task, swallowing his cock. you hollow your cheeks, hands on his thighs.

hobie grips the sink behind you. he has to siphon his strength to prevent from breaking the counter. he tries, he really does to keep himself from fucking your throat.

he always does start off as gentle, restraining himself. he watches you, watches your spit dribble and froth. his hand strokes the back of your head. he’s all langley, long enough to do so with no problems.

you realize too late when he pushes your head down until you’re choking, eyes watering with your tears. they spill over your eyes when you close them and gasp for air when he lets go.

hobie brushes your tears away while you wheeze. “couldn’t help myself.” he does feel apologetic, although he would definitely do it again. he doesn’t, though. not until you’re ready, sniffling and aligning his cock with your mouth.

you relax as much as you can. after his big push, you down more than the last attempt. you’ve never been able to fit his whole dick in your mouth, considering the length. the rest of it is beneath your hands, being squeezed and rubbed.

he can’t help the way he bucks his hips forward. he does feel guilty when you choke but it’s overwhelmed by the vibrations of your temporary struggle. still, you persist. you suck and slurp despite your need for air. you’re a bit lightheaded and grateful when hobie takes a step back and pulls himself out.

he exhales, thumb pressing on his tip and holding his cock still to discourage himself from cumming. you can’t even fathom how you make him feel. he believes even if you kissed him long enough, he could cum untouched. “you’re so good to me,” he wets his lips, the other hand on the wall. “so good, too good.”

you drink in the praise with a satisfied smile. you wriggle your toes beneath you and decide to take advantage of his lack of attention. your fingers dip between your legs and underneath your underwear.

you lean forward just enough to fingerfuck yourself. it doesn’t feel as good as when he does it, purely because your hands are much smaller than his. “hobie,” you call out to him.

his actions to last longer are almost futile when he meets your big brown eyes. “slut,” he mutters and pulls you to your feet.

you don’t hide your smile when he turns you around by your hips and pushes you down over the counter. he flips your skirt up and yanks your panties down to your ankles.

you don’t give him a chance to tease, pushing your hips back the moment you feel his dick lined up with your slit. you grip the countertop until the tips of your fingers are white and devoid of the red tint.

hobie pushes down on your the small of your back. he trails his thumb over your tramp stamp. he looms over you, your back pressed against his chest. “you’re so pretty, honey. y’know that?” he squeezes your jaw, forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror. he thinks you look a little better like this, with tear stains streaming down your face and leaving the trails in your powder. the eyeliner you spent so long to perfect is a bit smudged and the highlight in the corner of your hair is gone.

you whine and wiggle your hips. he’s not doing enough. he’s not doing anything but talking about you and that’s not what you want. “stop talking, please.” you feel miserable, shoes clicking against the floor when you shuffle your feet.

“don’t start complainin’, you hear me? i don’t wanna hear it.” he kisses the nape of your neck and rises.

you think nothing of it. you’re awfully confident until he’s grasping your hips and snapping into you. you nearly scream, reaching back and pressing against his stomach.

hobie shoves your hand off his body and holds it instead. “what did i just say?” he much rather you squeeze his hand, nails pressing into his skin. he guides it back to the counter and leaves them both there, his other hand fucking you back onto him.

he’s using you. you can hear the the sound of impact between your skin. you can feel it too, toes curling under the straps of your heels. you can’t keep yourself quiet, moaning into the back of your hand.

for once, hobie doesn’t reprimand you about it. you can already barely stand, forehead resting against the coolness of the composite.

your legs wobble and you’re depending completely on him to hold you up. he’s a little limited in his view, unable to see your breasts bouncing underneath you. he’s not able to see your face, either.

you make up for it in the way you moan. he can hear his name slipping in, muffled in your hand. the other, underneath his, curls and coils. there is no escaping him when you’re pressed against a hard surface and he’s pressed against you.

“ ‘obie,” you pant. you bend your knee and straighten it out as a way to express your pleasure. in the end, he holds it in the air. with both your hands free, you use the hold on the counter to push back against him.

“don’t worry. i got you.” he reaches under your lifted leg, rolling your sensitive nerves between his fingers.

your back arches and you throw your head over his shoulder. your arms tremble as the waves of your orgasm comes crashing against you.

you’re dizzy, falling forward because he fucks you through it. your mouth is open and drool pools over the side. you don’t care. your cunt throbs with over sensitivity and tears begin in your eyes again.

hobie uses your back dimples as leverage. your pleas ring around in his brain but it’s all foggy. he’s so close and it’ll plaguing his thoughts. “sorry, angel. i’m so sorry.” his hand falls beside your eyes. his pace quickens and he has to cover your mouth when you get too loud.

he suddenly pulls out, spewing his cum over your ass. hobie has to take a second behind you, not that you mind. you don’t feel like moving yourself even when your tits are all squished and uncomfortable.

a few minutes pass before he takes some tissue to clean you up with soft touches. “you did so good.” he says, tossing the tissue away and getting another to wipe the slick on your thighs. “my perfect girl. you okay?”

“mhm.” you haven’t gotten up, eyes closed. your hit with an onslaught of sleepiness, your guess is from the waning influence of everything you’ve consumed tonight.

hobie pulls your underwear back up and fixes your skirt back into its place. he pulls your partially limp body up and gathers you in his arms. “are you fallin’ asleep?”

“mhm,” you hum again, coddling into his warmth.

he smiles, hooking his arms under your knees and lifting you into the air. he doesn’t have to ask to know you would love to be left alone to sleep so he takes it upon himself to carry you to his room to rest.

hobie really can’t wait until you wake up and he tells you all about how he fucked you to sleep.

[sopuu]

sketch dump of some guys

[turtleblogatlast]

[ cw: death mention / family death mention / ]

Mhmm I sure love thinking of the reality where we did get more time to really know Karai and her dynamics with the bros. Losing her hit hard in the finale, but it would’ve hit much, much harder had we known Karai longer and really saw her relationships develop with everyone.

I especially would have been interested in her dynamic with Leo, as past iterations often have the two of them clash in ideals and the like while still sharing many characteristics. Two sides of the same coin, and all that. Her specifically being the bros’ Gram-Gram also adds a whole new dynamic as well.

Imagine how interesting it would be, to have Karai start off on Leo’s side for once, showing wholly just how alike the two are at their cores and bonding as family without the worry of betrayal or animosity that other iterations suffer through, only to have Karai die anyway. Their parting hug and the desperate look of horror Leo wears later on would have hit that much harder, I feel.

[marimbles]

i miss carpisuns sometimes </3

[myfairkatiecat]

Okay I’m going to say it, some of y’all treat the KOTLC tag like it’s a tumblr community instead of an organization system that gathers together everything people post and tag as KOTLC

[gojooooo]

man i love open endings. the fact that thanks to yuuji there might indeed be the next time sukuna talks about in case some idiot decides to eat a finger again. and we need fics where yuuji is that idiot

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

Fallen Thorns

dark urban fantasy coming-of-age

follows a boy settling into university, when after a date (that he didn’t even want to go on) turns bad he’s made into a vampire

as he settles into his new existence and the local vampire community - while they try to find who’s been leaving bodies across the city - he discovers that there’s something different and darker within him

aroace neurodivergent MC

[sourscratched]

a few zach reino offbook lines that are always rattling around in my head at any given moment

[zutaras-where-its-at]

zutara prompt: au in which zuko doesn’t know how to swim and katara teaches him while she’s still unsure whether they can trust him (at the beginning of his redemption arc)

she hates him. really, she does.

he’s a no-good, lying, son of a bitch, and if he hadn’t betrayed them in ba sing se, aang wouldn’t have a scar cratered in the skin of his back. she hates him.

except—

he just looks so…pathetic right now.

everyone else is carving graceful arcs in the water, whooping as they dive headfirst into the frigid-but-still-functioning pool they found in the western air temple. even toph—who notoriously can’t swim and hates being in water—wades casually in the shallow end next to teo.

but zuko won’t even get in.

the heavy look of dread that muddles his sharp features and curls his proud shoulders inward is enough to elicit a stab of sympathy in her for the scorned prince, and katara wonders at the fact that sympathy and hatred are apparently not mutually exclusive.

it’s pity that leads her to brush past him with hardly a glance as she says, “if you don’t know how to swim, you don’t have to get in.”

“i know how to swim,” he snaps, then flinches when he sees who he’s speaking to. calmer, he repeats, “i know how to swim.”

she just ticks a brow speculatively. “you sure?”

zuko has tried very hard to be extra civil with her the last week, but now, she can see just how difficult it is for him to keep the glare off of his face. “i’m sure.”

there’s something there, then. something hesitant and anxious and dark that twists his mouth and keeps his eyes from really looking at her. and katara—observant as she is—recognizes it for what it is.

“okay. so you’re scared.”

he looks stricken, suddenly, adam’s apple bobbing once up and down in his throat. he still won’t look at her. “i’m not.”

it’s sharper now, sitting just under the surface, so katara sinks her talons into it and tugs—“you don’t like the water. you’re afraid of it.”

“i’m not afraid of the fucking water, okay?” he inhales and bites his lip and balls up his fists, “it’s just cold, is all.”

“cold?” she drawls disbelievingly. in the background, aang hollers loudly as he cannonballs into the deep end. “aren’t you a firebender?”

at that, his gold gold gold eyes finally find her face, and she’s startled by the raw panic she sees in them. after a long moment, he seems to make up his mind about something. she watches as he gathers his words properly in his mouth and confesses quietly, “i almost drowned. in the north pole.”

she puts two and two together in record time—because she’d always wondered how he’d snuck into the heart of the northern water tribe under such intense war-time surveillance, had always been confused and resentful of the fact that he’d stolen aang out from right under her nose when she’d least expected it—and frowns.

she thinks about her childhood, how hakoda taught them to check for thin ice, carefully pick their fishing spots, and above all, what to do should they fall in. it’s been drilled in them since they were young, that the ocean is no joke, but the poles are a nightmare should you step wrong. hypothermia, hidden icebergs, the disorienting dark beneath the surface—

katara hates him.

but it’s just so pathetic and sad the way he watches them all with lonely eyes and a fear anyone could see from a mile away.

because all too soon, she’s convinced aang that there’s absolutely no way he and zuko are strong enough firebenders to heat up the swimming pool, and surely zuko hasn’t taught him well enough that they could actually do it in under five minutes, and really, she doubts zuko even knows how to control the temperature so it doesn’t boil them.

she hates him, but maybe—maybe she doesn’t.

[szkicel]

btw guess who got into Arcana for the very first time, in the year of 2024