#and i don't want to be doing the things i've done

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

David Tennant interview at the British LGBT Awards, June 2024 (x)

Int: You being an ally to the community isn't something new. You've been doing it, but recently you've obviously really stepped up for trans and non-binary people in a time that's so, so needed. What made you do that?

David: I don't know that I feel like I've done anything that I wouldn't just sort of be normally doing. I mean, it's for me it's just common sense that there's there should be any suggestion that people aren't allowed to live the life they want to live and and to be who they want to be with and to express themselves wholeheartedly. I mean, as long as you aren't hurting anybody else, everybody else just needs to fucking butt out. I don't really understand why...

Int: ...it's controversial.

David: Yeah, there is and the thing... the thing, if there's something that's particularly sobering and depressing, it's that certain debates are being weaponized by certain elements of the political class, often for no... it seems it's not ideological so much as opportunistic. And I just think that's pretty disgusting, really.

Int: I couldn't agree more. What message would you like to send out to trans youth?

David: Please don't feel like you're not loved and that you're not accepted and that you're not... you know, most people in the world are good and kind and just want you to be able to be who you are. Most people in the world don't really care. I mean... you know what I mean?

Int: We're all narcissistic.

David: Exactly. Everyone's so self obsessed that really, the sort of noise that comes from a certain area of the press and of the political class is... it's a minority. It really is. And please don't let that make you feel diminished or dissuaded or discouraged, because, you know, you just... you have to be allowed to be yourself, and you are, and you are yourself and you must thrive and flourish, and we're all here for it.

Int: Amazing. I think, yeah, it's so important .I think sometimes it feels like there's so many people, but it is a minority. It's such a minority.

David: It's a tiny bunch of little whinging fuckers that are on the wrong side of history and they'll all go away soon.

Int: Like what happened with gay people 20 years ago.

David: When I was a kid, when I was a kid, exactly. You know, I was at school when Clause 28 came in and it all felt like being gay was something to be terrified of. And gay men in particular were demonised as paedophiles and now that just feels historic and ludicrous and, I mean, I don't see all those... all those battles aren't won, but we're in a very, very different place. And I feel like.I feel like history is on a progressive trajectory and it might get knocked sideways now and again by people for all sorts of reasons, which are often quite selfish and quite, as I say, not coming from a place of any sort of genuine belief system, but other than a place of opportunism. And that's something that we... I hope that in 20 years time, we're talking about, you know, these culture wars as something of the past.

Int: I believe we will. I'm a huge Doctor Who fan, so.

David: Oh, good, me too!

Int: You are my Doctor.

David: Oh, thank you very much.

Int: But recently, obviously, you came back for the 60th anniversary and you got to work with Yasmin Finney.

David: Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.

Int: What was it like working with her?

David: Oh, she's brilliant. She's fantastic. Yeah. And she's in the show again now, she's back in it, so that's fantastic to see. She's lovely, talented, cool as a cucumber, articulate, brilliant. I learned a lot from her as an actor and also as someone who, you know, who's become a sort of de facto activist just because of who she is and where she is, and she becomes a sort of symbol of hope, and she's wonderful.

[ao3commentoftheday]

I'm over 350k words into writing a very long fic that's about halfway done, and lately, I feel like quitting. I've considered posting the outline as a final chapter to give people closure and then just walking away from it.

But I also really want to be able to actually finish it because the story means a lot to me. Whenever I think about calling it quits, I can't do it.

I feel trapped between not wanting to work on it anymore and wanting to finish this story that I've already poured so much time and love into. I want to finish it as much as I want to quit. But the idea of going on is almost agonizing.

Part of why I've been wanting to quit is because my health went downhill about 8 months into working on it, and it has only got worse since then, and that makes chapters take a long time to finish. I'm very slow to update and it makes me feel bad for the readers who are waiting for more. It's not like that many people are waiting, there isn't too much pressure in that sense. It's a rarepair and the fandom isn't as active as it used to be. But there are some people who are excited to know what happens next, and I feel like I'm letting them down by taking so long. I'd probably let them down even more if I didn't write the rest of it, though.

Another reason I've been wanting to quit is that I've been working on this fic for a few years already and it's going to take a few more years to finish, and that is overwhelming. I'm exhausted from such a long commitment to something creative. I've never spent longer than 6 months on a fic before and didn't think this one was going to take so long.

The final reason is that my writing style has changed in small ways over the course of working on the fic and I feel like older chapters are not as good as the newer chapters and I'm sort of losing confidence in myself. I don't enjoy reading my old fics because all I see are the things I'd change, and I feel like that's starting to happen with this fic.

This is supposed to be fun and I'm not having fun right now.

I don't know what to do.

Do you have any advice?

*hugs* the first thing I want you to do, anon, is take a deep breath. hold it. let it out.

It's going to be okay. ❤️

You've got a lot of different emotions going on right now and a lot of different reasons for feeling them. You need to stop trying to push them away and "get on with things" because that's just like shoving your mess into the closet. Eventually that door isn't going to shut anymore.

You also need to take care of yourself before you worry about your readers. They'll still be there later. New ones might come by in the meantime. If you're putting your readers' presumed wants and needs ahead of your own, you'll eventually start to feel resentful towards them for "forcing" you to do something you don't want to (or just can't) do right now.

First and foremost, I think you need a break. You're exhausted and you're pressuring yourself to do more than you're capable of. The way you describe things, it sounds like you're pretty burnt out and in need of some recovery time. Berating yourself and forcing yourself and pushing yourself so hard is only going to make it all worse.

You know that old Snickers commercial where the person turns into an ogre or something and their friend gives them a chocolate bar? The tag line is something like "You're not you when you're hungry." Well, you're also not you when you're exhausted. Your brain is currently a toddler in need of a nap, and if it doesn't get that nap then it's just going to have a tantrum and ruin your whole day.

Take a moment and think of this story that you're writing. Why do you want to finish it? Is it because the readers are excited for it? Is it because you've put a lot of work into it already? Is it because you've already spent a lot of time on it?

All of those things might be true, but you said the most important part yourself, right up front, "the story means a lot to me. Whenever I think about calling it quits, I can't do it."

It's not about the readers, and it's not about the effort, and it's not about the time. It's about the story. That's the important thing. And if that's the important thing, then you can write it at your own pace. You can enjoy the writing process of it. You can spend your time imagining scenes that might or might not make it into the final version.

Writing fic is a hobby, and like you said it's meant to be fun. Take it off of your list of responsibilities and put it onto your list of daydreams instead. The only person you're accountable to with this story is yourself. The next time you catch yourself thinking, "I have to-" or "I should-" when you're thinking about this story, stop and recognize that thought. Where is it coming from? Why are you having it? Is it actually true or do you just feel like it is?

Then take a deep breath. Hold it. Let it out. This story is for you first. Take your time with it.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Fingers crossed for an update of Passion for Fashion 💖❓ sorry for the bother but I've just become addicted to reading that Au lololol I've read it over and over again for like a hundred times now

"Give me a spin," Dan demands, keeping a critical eye on the suit pants as the man did as he was told. He clicks his tongue in sharp disapproval before falling into a crouch and fidgeting with the hem.

Danny thinks the suit came out looking fantastic for a stupid theme like question marks. The client was also a rather exciting guy, randomly spewing riddles at them as Dan worked on his outfit and Danny cooked them lunch.

Edward Nigma had shown up on their doorstep with a cheerful greeting at five a.m. Danny wanted to tell Edward that anything before nine a.m. should be illegal, but Dan was happy to welcome him in.

Dan had forgotten to sleep again and didn't realize the early morning start. Danny was getting rather tired of the ghost rushing about with an insane amount of energy, only to crash when his human body could no longer sustain his habits.

After letting Edward get comfortable on the half-buried couch of clothing, Danny wandered back upstairs to his bedroom. It was the only room—besides the bathroom—where there wasn't a bunch of fabric and sewing instruments thrown about. He crashed on his bed and didn't wake up until two more hours later.

By that point, when he had done his morning routine and wandered downstairs, he found Edward sitting crosslegged in a ring of paper. The paper had multiple sketched designs of various suits.

A little to his right was Dan, whose hand was nothing but a blur as it raced across his sketchbook. Danny could make out that he stopped, ever so often, to switch out the coloring pencils for shades of green and purple, but doing it at such a speed that he doubted regular humans would be able to tell.

It meant his drawings were done at an insanely fast pace. He wondered if his Obsession made it possible not to burn a hole through the paper. Was there a way to test that? Ghosts did have an effect on their environments just as the environments had an effect on their forming.

Edward was comparing two papers in his hands with a critical eye. He looked up as Danny stumbled down the stairs- he had never been a morning person. He held up the designs for Danny to see, asking, " What is the most dangerous thing to give a man in a crowd?"

Half asleep, Danny didn't miss a beat in muttering, "Power."

Edward seemed pleased by his response, putting the left one back into the ring of papers before shifting around to face a new side of the ring. There, he ran his fingers over the designs, muttering, "It needs to be powerful."

Right.

"I'm making breakfast if anyone-"

"No need. Edward ordered us some. Your burrito is over there somewhere," Dan cut him off, turning to the next page without lifting his head. "It's part of my commission."

"Free food?"

"For a week"

"Nice"

Edward glances at them. "I can keep feeding you if you answer more riddles."

Danny takes a big bite out of his bean burrito, savoring the explosion of flavor that dances over before nodding his head. "I promise I'll try to answer as many as I can but I'm not the best at them."

The man frowns, turning away back to this pile of papers. "If you're not going to play my game, you don't need to waste the air you breathe in."

Both Fentons freeze at that, snapping their heads in Edward's direction. Now, correct him if he is wrong, but that sounded a whole lot like a threat to Danny. He made eye contact with Dan, tracing the youthful human face that held the same bloodlust as his adult form.

Was Edward aware he had just issued a Ghost Challenge to the one Fenotn, the least human, thus the one with the least humanity of them all, madness cured or not? Is he aware that Dan was putting down his drawings, his teeth more sharp, and his hands curled into claws?

Danny sprung to his feet, mouth open in a shout just as Dan was about to leap-

Ding Dong.

The front doorbell cuts through the air like a knife through hot butter. Dan's ghost instincts all but vanish as his eyes light up in joy. He goes through with his leap, but it's only to go over Edward's form and roll to a stop on the other side, heading towards the door. "My second client!"

Danny breathes a sigh of relief, flopping back down in his seat. He ignores Edward, savoring his food with a deep hunger. Clockwork had sent them over with enough funds to survive, and there were no bills they needed to cover (if there were, no one had bothered to come collect from the Fentons or cut their services), but that was a limit to how loose they could be with their spending.

Danny thought eating out was a luxury he would miss out on until he returned home. Of course, he got a coffee or something occasionally, but that made this free food all the more tasty.

"I was thinking something more eco-friendly," The redhead woman from the runway told Dan as she scanned the room with a hint of distaste. "Are you aware of the damage to the Earth these fabric stores cause?"

Dan eyed her with equal distance. "Are you aware of how little I care about that?"

Edward snaps his head up with a gasp. "Did he really say that to Ivy?"

"I thought her name was Pamela," Danny asks, which causes the green woman to snap a glare at him. He shrugs helplessly at her rage, reminded of Sam in a heartbreaking moment. "Miss, look around you. Do you honestly think ants like us have any say with the fabric companies?"

"You could stop giving them business!" She hisses as Dan rolls his eyes.

"We bought almost everything from a second-hand store or a discount store. The poor don't get to make eco-friendly decisions. They make ones that help them stay off the streets." Danny explains gently, making sure his voice is not dismissive or condescending. He thinks back to nights when he had to talk Sam down from doing something crazy- like setting a building on fire for them and cutting down the oldest trees in Amity Park. "You have the means to make a change."

Pamela raises a brow. "I do make a change. Permanently."

"Oh, that's great. How many trees have you replanted?" Danny asks, smiling widely. It's odd how she reacts to his question, body still going in surprise.

"What?"

"I mean, I figured you would be focusing on healing the earth instead of causing it more scars by engaging in human wars, right?" Danny tilts his head, aware of Edward's flabbergasted look and Dan's apparent boredom with the conversation. "You're different from the big corporations who don't care who or what they hurt to reach their end goal, right? "

Pamela opens and closes her mouth before she snaps her back straight. "That wouldn't save the Earth! Humans are a plague!"

"Humans can also be a cure if the right ones get started." Danny counters quickly. "I mean, what have you done for the rivers around Gotham? The water that flows through there affects the plant life just as much. Also, plants and green help lower depression, and Gotham needs help. Plant some pretty flowers and gardens, and watch the neighborhoods flock to them. If you can convince the people to love the plants as much as you do, they will join you in keeping them safe."

Pamela's eyes narrow. "Don't you dare lecture me about how to save the Earth."

Danny shrugs, stepping away from her. A sudden strong perfume fills the air, causing his nose to wrinkle. It smells like his grandmother's house and is not welcoming. "Wasn't a lecture, but if you take it as such, there is no point in talking about it anymore."

"You're going to die for me," she suddenly says, popping out her hip and smirking at him.

"That's nothing special, Danny would die for a pizza." Dan cuts in

"I would die for an extra cheese pizza." Danny corrects, pointing his finger at his counterpart. "You would die for less."

"Oh, to be dead. In the arms of the most handsome EverBurning to ever live." Dan sighs dramatically, leaning into three pieces of cloth behind him, one hand on his forehead.

Danny threw his hands in the air. He's sick and tired of hearing about the ghost they knew for only ten minutes. "Killer Croc is never going to give you a chance, Dan. Move on!"

"We could have been forever if it weren't for my age!" Dan hisses right back, "You wouldn't understand! It's not like you or Samantha turned five!"

"Who's fault do you think that was? " Danny yells back, stepping around the wide-eyed Edward to snare into Dan's face. Pamela has taken three steps back, looking confused more than anything, mouthing Killer's name with clear disbelief.

"I wasn't the one that messed up the timeline!" Dan hisses, switching over to Spanish. Sometimes, the fake twins found themselves doing that whenever they got too emotional.

"You destroyed the world!"

"As it was foretold!"

"What does that even mean!?"

Ding Dong.

Once again, the doorbell cuts through the tension, making Danny huff. He pushes past Dan, who punches him in the arm but doesn't stop him from throwing the door open. Outside stands Tim Drake, with a bouquet of flowers and a nervous smile.

"I'm here for the suit," Tim says, holding out the flowers. "I know you said I didn't have to pay you, but I thought it was rude to not offer anything-"

"Buy me pizza." Danny cuts him off with dead-set eyes. "Double crust."

Tim startles. "Oh. Sure?"

Danny can feel his face stretch out into a grin. It lights up his whole face—Sam and Tucker had told him many times before—and he just knows it makes him appear lighter and friendlier. Tim's face goes very red as Danny takes his flowers. "It's a date. Come on in. Dan can get your measurements for the resize, and I can get ready in the meantime."

"Okay." Tim follows after him in a daze, stumbling over the fabric rolls Dan had stacked against the wall. He tries to avoid tipping but tangles himself in the string of cloth examples, still strung up everywhere. Danny quickly reaches out to steady him with a laugh.

"Yeah, this place is a bit of a mess," he tells the other. "It's slightly better today since Dan has some guests."

He leads Tim back into the living room, surprised to find that the awful smell has disappeared, Edward is currently being measured by Dan in his underwear, and Pamela is flipping through Dan's designs with a thought frown.

Huh, maybe Dan managed to calm her down. How? He's unsure, but that ghost always seemed to have the oddest people skills.

Tim gulps loudly when he finally spots everyone. "These are his guests?!"

"It's one of the Waynes." Edward cheers, arms held out to his sides as Dan places the measuring tap from his armpit to his waist. "Tim Drake, right? I had you in one of my riddles three months ago!"

"That's funny. I induced his father with pheromones around the same time." Pamela speaks up, giving Tim a friendly smile. It's the most welcoming expression she's worn since she got here.

Also ew, why would she tell someone she hooked up with their dad to their face like that?

Tim pales dramatically, reaching out to clutch Danny's arm. He pats it gently, hoping to comfort him from such a bizarre comment. "Dan, when you finish with Edward, can you message Tim for his adjustments. We're going on a date."

Dan glances over at him. "Whore"

"Just because I've gone on dates while Killer didn't even give you the time of day doesn't mean you can call me names, Dan."

"Whore but affectionately," Dan says after a long pause, and Danny nods.

"That's better." He pats Tim again on the shoulder- aware of his strange fidgeting with a ring on his finger that imitates a strange faint beeping. "I'll go upstairs to get ready. Who knows, maybe we'll find Batman."

Edward and Pamela laugh as if Danny said a funny joke and Tim's face aging a few more nervous lines. "Maybe"

He leaves Tim to take a seat next to Pamela. She leans over to show Dan's designs for her Leaf theme act and asks for his opinion. Tim fidgets even more with his ring as he answers her, voice shaky and cracking.

She seems highly amused.

His pale face stands out among the sea of handing red glimmering fabric around his head, and Danny is startled for a second by the idea that he is pretending to be scared, much like an actor before a red stage curtains.

It takes a particular skill to pull off an act that good. Almost an inhuman amount. One could even claim it was.... Bat-man-like.

I have a lead, Danny thinks with glee as he quickly climbs the stairs. He is careful not to step on bundles of yarn that Dan has stacked there. I finally have a lead!

He's going to charm the pants off of Tim to get him to tell him everything about Batman.

[octuscle]

Fatal shortcut

You know those days. The traffic is murder. You can't go another inch. Your destination is within reach, but it will take you three green lights and at least 20 minutes to cover the last 100 meters. Bloody hell! Honk the horn? It's no use… But now carefully pull onto the green lane, then cut across the high school parking lot and you're there. Why do you have your baby, the Mercedes G-Class, after all? I put on the turn signal, the car takes the sidewalk like nothing, carefully into the parking lot, look left and right and…… BANG! Damn it, the Mustang has clearly taken my right of way. This is guaranteed to take longer than 20 minutes… The two morons in the car look like they only have their heads to wear football helmets and pour beer through their mouths. The typical stereotypical football college jock bros. The day just keeps getting better…

"Yo, Chuck! Bro, did you see what that punk did there?" "Sure, Brad! He definitely took your right of way." I try to protest. But I'm way too caught off guard when the guy, who is obviously Chuck, stands up in front of me. God knows I'm not small. I'm a well-trained, muscular six foot two. But Chuck is easily ten centimetres and at least 20 kilograms taller than me… He grabs my balls. Damn it, I want to punch him, but Brad's already got me from behind. And Brad is barely smaller than Chuck. "There you go, you little faggot!" Chuck hisses at me. "Are you lying in wait for your wankers in the parking lot again? But this time is the last time!" He spits in my face and his grip on my balls tightens. Brad turns my head in his direction and spits again. Then the two of them get into their car, put it in reverse. And disappear.

I stand there a bit like an idiot. I'm far from being small or a faggot. And the last thing Chuck and Brad were to me were wank templates. I mean, I have nothing against gays… But thanks no, not for me… I'll take a look at the damage to the car. It's no big deal, the Mustang looked worse. I get back in the car, drive the last few meters into the underground car park, throw my keys to Stephen at reception and ask him to take the car to the garage. When I get off work later, I'd like to have it done. He puts his hand to his temple and says "Sir, aye, sir". Hehehe, I don't mind hierarchies being recognized.

"You little faggot"… I can't get that phrase out of my head. Shit, I'm really unfocused today. Maybe I just need a distraction. I go to the gym during my lunch break. Somehow I feel the need to look like anything but a faggot. I train bare-chested. Dressed only in compression shorts. Not really appreciated here. But I don't care today…

Shit, I'm not in top form here either… What I normally lift without any problems is all too heavy for me today. At least it's the cross trainer… Even though I'm not really the cardio type. When I get in the shower, my cock gets hard. Shit, that's embarrassing. But I also have to say that there's really only premium meat running around here today. And I'm one of them. Definitely one of them. Even the clean-shaven guy in front sees it that way. Clear body language. It doesn't take long before I'm leaning against the shower wall. And for the first time in my life I get fucked… And how! I can hear the angels singing. It feels so good as the stallion cums in my ass. To say goodbye, he gives me a kiss and a pat on the ass. And he says loudly to one of his buddies. "What a waste for such a submissive pig to have such a magnificent cock!"

The fuck was great, but apart from that I'm really not myself today. I feel like I've been missing the last year. For the life of me, I can't remember a lot of things that happened. It's like I wasn't there. I'm glad when Stephen calls me at around 5 p.m. to tell me that my car is back. I thank him, pack up my things and go down to reception. Stephen grins at me almost insolently and says that this service is an exception and that he now has something good on me. Completely confused, I say, "I'm fine, dude" and take my car keys. But there is no black G-Class in my parking lot. There's a baby blue Mercedes SLK, in good shape, freshly polished. But it must be 15 years old. I press the key. The doors open. What the fuck?

I just want to get home, this day is a disaster. As I park the embarrassing car and walk past the concierge, Michael calls after me, "Hey, Johnny boy, can you give Mrs. Smith from 2316 a lift?" I turn red. I walk back to the concierge desk. "So what, my name is Jonathan, but it's actually Mr. Hays to you. And why would I stop on the 23rd floor when I live on the 38th. Besides, I don't know Mrs. Smith." Michael grins at me with his one-million-dollar smile. "Rough day, John, uh, Mr. Hays? You might as well ask the old lady if her drain is still acting up. And before you try to break into the wrong apartment, I understand you live in 2304." He hands me a package. I drive up to the 23rd floor. I give her the package. She asks if I can plug in the new coffee machine straight away. "Of course, mom," I say. I ask if her drain is working again. She says it would be nice if I could have another look. I ask if she has any rubber gloves. She nods. I pull the dirt out of the blocked drain. She slips me a dollar. I go to 2304, open the door. And drop onto the bed. It's right next to the door. 2304 used to be the room for the lady's maid from apartment 2312. On the one hand, I feel very much at home. But on the other hand, I should be somewhere else. Somewhere with a view of Central Park. With more space. I pull out my cell phone and start working my way through Grindr. Maybe I just need someone to take me really hard again today

That was a night of really wild dreams. Really wild dreams. But obviously everything is fine now. I feel fit. My morning wood has never been better. I stroke my chest. Didn't it used to be hairy? I'm fantasizing again. What it would be like to be a real guy. Successful, at least 1.82 m. Well, I'm not going to grow any more. But maybe that's because of some Italian roots or something. That's where I got my hairy armpits and good beard growth. Shit, I'm still hard as nails. So routine like every morning: wank, jog, shower and then off to the office. I should be there at 07:00 so that the mail is distributed and the conference tables are all set before the Masters of the Universe arrive at the office. It's 07:05 when I walk in the door. Stephen grins and just says, "Subway?" "Don't ask, bro!" I reply, rolling my eyes. I didn't really need a bachelor's degree for my job. Jogging in the morning to stay in shape is more important. At the end of the day, I usually have 15K steps and 40 floors on my fitness tracker. And that's not usually the end of it. By the time I get home, Michael usually has a number of assistance activities for me. But hey, the address on the Upper Eastside sounds impressive, which I would never normally have been able to afford as a young professional. I'll even put up with the apartment on the first floor with a view of the backyard and the job as a temporary janitor.

Of course it's embarrassing to still live with my parents. But if I wanted to afford my own place, I'd probably have to move 200 miles away from Down Town. And I want to stay here. That's important to me. Also for financial reasons. The subway tickets alone would be too expensive if I had to travel further. I mean, the little bit of scholarship… And I don't earn much in the kitchen of the cafeteria. Stephen and Michael are good friends. If I didn't have them, I wouldn't make it. But they have good contacts. Stephen in the office, Michael at home. They always know someone who needs a massage with a happy ending. Or a greedy college boy face for a blowjob. The men are usually well-groomed. Too well-groomed, actually. That's why I always look forward to my part-time job as a trainer at the high school gym. If I'm lucky, I get to meet Brad and Chuck. I mean, they're not gay or anything. We never make eye contact. But I still get to blow them sometimes. Even though, of course, it's pathetic when you're a sophomore in college sucking high school seniors. But fuck, you won't find cheesier dicks with a more pronounced scent of musk and sweat anywhere!

Yo, have I even dropped my name yet? It's Janusz, 19 years young and repping as an exchange student up in the Big Apple. Just call me Jonny, keep it chill. Hailing straight outta a tiny village near Krakow, Poland, in case that detail tickles your pickle. Still wrapping my head around this English gig… But let me tell ya, my French game is on point, or so the bros claim. Thrilled to be out of the parental crib and living it up in this wild city. Dang, the possibilities here are endless! Senior year vibes, you know what I'm saying? And now that I joined the wrestling squad, it's like BOOM! More close body action in a week than I got in a year with the 'rents around! Truth bomb: I make most of my cash tagging along with my wingmen Brad and Chuck, the school heartthrobs. I'm like their trusty sidekick. It's lit! Hoping to snag an athletic scholarship next year, fingers crossed. Sure, these two golden boys ain't wrestlers (legends in the bedroom, though), but football studs. It'd be epic if we could keep the bromance alive in college. Purely platonic, of course. Or not… 🤷‍♂️

[k2ntoss]

okay so yet again i was scrolling through insta reels and i saw this and immediately thought, 'oh jason would love one of this with his helmet' so i thought i'd share (hopefully the video doesn't just disappear into the ether or this wont make much sense but yeah)

https://www.instagram.com/reel/C8XdIwStYFg/?igsh=MWdzZXVpZHV3dm8zbw==

((in case it does for some reason disappear, it was a reel of a girl making a diy spiderman mask shirt with a pattern and then the red colouring bit of the mask was filled in with kisses using paint))

but yeah, i think making a red hood one for jason would be so fun and i just know the man would be so so smitten when it's given to him

anyways, love you, glad your posting again

- the ever present 🦊

"the ever present" OMG I ADORE YOU!!!!!! hi baby, been missing you with your brain tickling requests (i have one on hold but just you wait)

i've been looking to do one of those for me with red hood's logo bc i'm as single as one can be and i know i won't be getting someone to do this for me but okayyyyyy i can do it on my own. here comes something short but done with a lot of love

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𔓕 ۪  ۫ ୭

jason had been waiting outside the room for hours maybe, he was just sitting on the couch as he looked at the door like a sad puppy because he had arrived this morning to your apartment looking foward to spend time with you. some cuddling, watching a movie together or reading, jason just wanted some quality time with his beloved.

he knew you had been busy during the week with a huge amount of projects you wanted to do but he wasn't expecting you to get so fixated over one to lock yourself into your room and not even peek to see him and he didn't knew why, what jason also didn't knew was the fact that you were already getting dizzy by the smell of paint inside your closed room as you placed the shirt over your desk again, grabbing a pencil to fix the outline of the desing for the hundreth time in the day.

"fuck, fuck, fuck..." you muttered as low as you could to keep jason from darting into the room and ruin the surprise and it took you a good couple of hours to finally have it done, the paint almost completely dry now and the image of it was neat, making you smile and giggle happily.

and it's just then when you decide it's time to open the door, peeking your head through the small space to find jason almost melted on the couch, his head resting against the wall as he kept his eyes closed but it wasn't even a second by when he snapped his eyes open to look at you with a small frown.

"baby? why are you-?" she stopped mid sentence, taking in the sight of your paint smeared lips and chin, the red bright color now cracked on your skin as you smiled back at him as if you just made the biggest discovery in your life.

"hush! c'mere, jaybirdie" you say, leaving the door to your room wide open just to reveal the fact that your whole frame was a mess and that the paint was not only on your face but it had dripped to your shirt and also to your bare thighs to the skin that wasn't covered by the sleeping shorts you were wearing.

jason stands up from his seat, stretching completely from his quick nap and walks into the now messy room. the small paint pots across the floor and desk in different shades of red, paint brushes here and there and then the sight of you standing in front of the middle of your desk, covering something jason couldn't quite see well enough to know what it was.

"i saw something and i had to do this... it's probably the cheesiest thing i've ever done so feel free to laugh at me" and those words make jason tilt his head because what on earth could be so cheesy and made with paint that needed this much time leaving him out of your room? because yes, jason wanted to cuddle and don't blame him.

"princess-" he starts but goes silent the second you pull from the desk a black shirt with a print of his helmet on it, all made in different shades of red kiss marks that emulated the shade of light and everything. his lips remain parted as he walks slowly towards you, his fingers gently tracing the outline of the print on the shirt before he looks at your face, the paint in your skin the evidence of the time you spent painting your lips and pressing kisses to the shirt to make something so sweet for him.

"is it too much? you know, you can just put it into your closet if you don't like-" but your words are cut by a tender kiss, jason cups your face in such a delicate embrace as he lets all his feelings pour into that simple kiss.

"i love it. i love you" he says, his voice a soft whisper even in that deepish tone of his and it makes your heart flutter because jason looks completely happy with the shirt as he holds it into his hands, still admiring the way you decided to replicate a part of him "it's just perfect..."

"can i wear it already?"

the question itself is the sweetest reaction he could give you, the eagerness to wear something you made for him making you giggle excitedly as you shook your head with a small pout.

"not yet, red... i should iron it and give it a quick wash so the paint stays on the fabric" and he pouts slightly because god knows how much he wishes to have your kisses closer to his heart.

[munsonsmixtapes]

Hi! I saw you were taking requests. Could you possibly do first kiss with Steve? And reader is very inexperienced and incredibly nervous

Ty~ ✨ anon

Thanks so much for the request!

The glow of the tv reflected off of yours and Steve’s faces as you both sat on his couch. You were tucked into his side just like usual, but this time, it was different. You were on a date, something that neither of you had done with each other before.

You turned to look at him and your eyes fell onto his lips, desperate to know what they felt like. They were pretty and pink and you wanted nothing more than to feel them slotted between yours. But you had never kissed anyone and that scared you. So much so that you felt like it was never going to happen because of the fear that coursed through you when you thought about it.

Steve could feel you look at him, but he didn't say anything, but just wrapped his arm tighter around you. His hand squeezed your shoulder and he turned to you to give you a smile and his gazed stayed on you for a second. He tilted your head up to meet his and you closed your eyes, feeling your heart race in your chest as his breath fanned your face.

"Wait," you put your hand on his chest to push him back and he pulled away, wanting to make sure that you were okay. He never would have wanted to hurt you or make you feel uncomfortable.

" Oh sorry, I-I thought you want to." He looked so worried that he had offended and you immediately wanted him to know that he wasn't the problem.

"I do!" You assured him with a nod. "I just-I'm nervous. I've never kissed anyone and I don't know what I'm doing." Despite your embarrassment, you felt like he deserved to know the truth. You turned away from him, not wanting him to see the look on your face.

"I can show you...if you want." You turned back to look at him, nothing but hope in your eyes. You should have known that he never would have made fun of you. He was always nothing but sweet and understanding.

"Please." The words came out more desperate than you had wanted them to, but Steve just smiled and gently cradled your face in his hands, tilting your head back so you could look at him.

His thumbs moved back and forth across your cheeks and your eyes fluttered closed as he pressed his lips to yours in a lingering peck. He pulled away and just when you were about to say something, he went in for another and another before finally slotting his lips between yours and your eyes fluttered closed as you mimicked his actions, moving your lips with his.

Steve pulled away with a smile and you couldn't help but match it, finally understanding the hype of the whole thing. You didn't know what if it was good because you had nothing to compare it to or if he was just that good, but either way, you found yourself wanting more.

"Can I have another?" You asked, your voice softer than normal, more shy. Steve just chuckled with a nod, deciding that he wanted to kiss you just as much, already wanting more of your soft, sweet lips.

"You can have as many as you want, honey," he smiled again, pulling you in again for one of your many kisses of the night.

[small-but-oho]

EDIT: Since this kinda broke containment: THESE ARE MY PERSONAL FEELINGS. If you agree, let me know and we can connect! :D If you disagree, that's awesome. Keep doing your thing. I do not want to tell anybody that the way they enjoy g/t is wrong.

I think I've cracked the code of why the overwhelming amount of g/t fl/uff (censored so it doesn't show up in its tag) makes me uncomfortable: there just are no stakes.

Like, to me, g/t stories need to have a power imbalance. That's the whole readon for the trope to exist. Just like bd$m or v0re or, fuck, even just boss/employee stories, the inheirent difference in power - literal or social - is the whole point of it.

And, no offense, but all the posts about friendship and r0mance between tiny and giant just... play that down? Maybe it's because the trope has been done to death and back (we're all in its fandom after all), and people just wanna skip to the part that is new in their story. Nothing wrong with that, I'm not trying to police what people are writing. I'm mostry just airing out my own thoughts here.

But that also kinda takes out the tension? I've once read a comparison online, that in real life, two people clearly communicating their problems is good and healthy, but in a story, it takes out the stakes. Stories usually need points of tension building up the closer we get to the climax, with a big finish, and a drop in tension towards the end.

And this may just be me bitching, but I remember a time when the g/t tag was full of fearplay and looming and angst, where evil giants were as plentiful as sand in the desert. And now that's almost a rare trope. A lot of people I follow who used to post lots of angst, now primarily only post fl♡ff, which, again, do as you want. I'm just wondering why this shift occurred.

To me personally, g/t is a good way to explore these feelings, of feeling small, weak, at the mercy of a being so much bigger than me. Bad things need to happen to the tiny, because it's somewhat of a stress release. And if you've read this far, thanks and please don't block me.

[2kmps]

INTERVENTION

john hancock x quasi-surgeon!reader | 2.6k

story summary; you save hancock's life by reattaching his arm after some nasty fallout with a raider gang. in return, hancock brings you back with him to goodneighbor to continue practicing. the closeness you both develop for one another is simply an added bonus.

story warnings; drug use (hancock), not super explicit sexual scene, brief mentions of body gore + different ailments to the human body, copious cursing, unethical practices + questionable morality in mc tho' that's open to interpretation by you, very roughly proofread, does not explicitly follow fallout lore sorry lmao. MDNI!!

if you enjoyed, please reblog + interact!!

When Hancock had propositioned Irma to rent out multiple empty rooms in the back of the Memory Den to you, she’d been justifiably self-conscious about it. Mixing business with pleasure was one thing she knew well, but intermingling pleasure with surgery was something completely different together. According to what had been reiterated to her through Fahrenheit, then Hancock, and finally yourself at close intervals, Hancock had an arm blown clean off of his body and nearly bled out on cracked concrete in some building outside of Boston occupied by a raider gang with heavy artillery.

Next thing he knew, he was awake on a mildewy bedroll next to a warm fire, his arm reattached with thick thread and copper wire. All that he could understand in that moment was his body had regenerated nerve endings, bone, tissue, and sensation back into his arm—something he tested for several moments by flexing his fingers as though playing keys on a terminal. He went further and mimicked lighting a cigarette, flicking a syringe, stirring a flask; all the motions that actually mattered to him to perform.

Besides confirming he could still push down the trigger on a jet inhaler, he noticed the silvery moonlight and the craters pockmarking the glowing orbs' pale face. It looked a lot like some of the ugly bastards he'd had the misfortune of an acquaintanceship with. With enough of his wits about him to start thinking of those lowlifes, he looked around with a more critical eye.

He startled only a little when you ended up being what was staring back at him from the other side of the fire.

“You've been out for two days and twelve hours, if you want to know. I hope you'll actually stay awake because it's been a pain in the ass to carry you around, plus my supplies.”

Hancock hadn't been interested in all the typical pleasantries as he normally would be and showed you his arm.

“You do this?”

You put your teeth around a chunk of charred meat on a skewer and hummed affirmatively. “Not bad, right? I've done some minor stuff on people: reattached fingers, toes, even put some guy’s penis back on after his crazy wife cut it off. But a whole arm? Well, let's say that it definitely helps that you're a Ghoul. My first one, actually.”

“Oh, that right? I'm flattered.” Hancock couldn't bring himself to laugh over the absurdity of the situation, but did sit upright and glance around the base of the fire for another skewer. Food sounded more appealing right now than it ever had before. “You musta done one hell of a job because I don't even feel the wire and—what is that? Shoelaces?”

“Hungry?” you asked, muffled by the tough chew as you pulled another portion of skewered meat from your side, handing it to him. “Believe me, your pain is gonna start back up eventually and with a vengeance. But, you're a Ghoul. I'm hardly worried about how you're gonna tolerate that. Turns out, though, daytripper and hydra make for one hell of an anesthetic combination. I learned a lot from you, thanks for surviving.”

The way you saved him was bizarre. The way you spoke was straight up fucking freaky. He liked you already.

“You, uh, some sort of doctor or somethin’?” he asked after swallowing a couple of hunks of meat. He had deduced it was mole rat—a bit too fatty for his taste, but nothing he would complain about. “Not everyone can just stick someone's limbs back on and use whatever’s on the ground to make it stay.”

“Nah, not really.” you licked the skewer clean of the herby marinade you'd used. “Not officially, anyway. I trained with some surgeon down in West Virginia for a couple of years before he turned into a Ghoul and went feral. Honestly, he had already lost a few screws by the time I came around. I went through his terminal one night, right?” you looked at him to make sure he was listening. He was, so you continued, “I found out he had lost all his screws. He was purposefully exposing himself to greater levels of radiation on different days because he wanted to be Ghoulified. He thought he'd become immortal that way.”

“Well, in a weird sort of way, that's not completely untrue.” Hancock replied through bites of mole rat. “He wouldn't have been immortal. Just aged real slow. Lost a few fingers and toes. Been ostracized by society at large until the loneliness became too much to bear and he'd go feral. That what happened?”

Your skewer splintered as you cracked it in half, shaping a cross out of it that you then secured with three blades of long grass. After tying the grass into knots, you flicked the cross away into the very same tuft you had pulled from.

“As it turns out, people don't really care how irradiated you are if you're someone with a fancy license. So, he didn't go feral because everyone turned their backs on him.” you said, now sitting sideways on your stump of wood for a metal tackle box littered in old Nuka-World and RobCo stickers.

Hancock couldn't see well enough through the swaying orange-red flames and shadow cast inside the box to know what you were searching for, but he heard the delicate tinkle of glass and clatter of metal as you rummaged.

Your hand reappeared with a syringe—a stimpak. “Dr. Chapman went feral because he was already a feral human. Now, hold out your arm. I'm going to stave off your pain for as long as I can.”

After that, Hancock had convinced you to follow him to Goodneighbor. To Irma, Fahrenheit and Hancock claimed it was for the benefit of the town—being as it was constantly in the throes of chaos and death, having a quasi-surgeon on standby would negate some of the loss. You, on the other hand, told her you simply wanted a secure place to practice and were particularly motivated by the enormous congregation of Ghouls.

Another win, according to Hancock, who didn't look much deeper than surface-level at your rapturous intrigue of treating Ghouls for whatever malady they came to you with. Sometimes it was chem withdrawals, other instances it was actual, missing parts that you'd oftentimes have to supply from three-day old corpses dumped outside the town’s barricades.

You were approached about tooth pain, migraines, aches all over. Regular humans came to you with distended stomachs, testicular torsions, radioactive decay of their intestines, gangrenous appendages, fevers with chills and mottled skin that evolved into sepsis, mysterious infections that were plague-like in nature (those you had no hope for and who'd conveniently vanish from Goodneighbor after word got out). The number of patients you treated for Ghoul-related sexual diseases was staggering.

“So, what do we got on the list for today?” Hancock picked up your battered clipboard and flipped through the bundle of pages. You had names (mostly aliases out of embarrassment) listed with their corresponding ailment, a hyphen, and then what you intended to be their intervention.

You squeezed a dirty white coat on your shoulders and snatched the clipboard from his hands, searching his face for some ounce of humility which simply wasn't there. “None of your business, Mayor Hancock. I do take patient confidentiality very seriously. Just know, I am practicing to the best of my abilities.”

“Oh, don't I know it.” He gave a raspy little laugh that he supplemented with a grin. “Look at you! You've become a big name all over Boston. Got people filing into Goodneighbor in droves just to get some of your magic.”

You deadpanned. “It isn't magic. It's medicine. And a whole lotta luck. Probably, actually, more luck than anything else.”

“Only real downside to your popularity is we just ain't got enough space for everyone. We already had people on the streets, but it feels like you can't even walk through town anymore without tripping over someone.” Hancock followed you to your desk and sat on the edge, arms and legs crossed, trying a little too obviously to see the information you were logging into the terminal.

“God,” you sighed, shoving the clipboard into his chest. He took it with a quiet noise. “If you're going to be a complete menace, at least read these off to me.”

He kept on grinning. “With pleasure.”

For a while, that's what the pair of you did. He'd read out a name (or figured out an alias), an aliment, a treatment, your notes on the matter, and make suitable commentary of his own while you typed it all into a file—sans his humor because it was highly inappropriate.

This wasn't an unusual occurrence anymore. Irma had surrendered three of her rooms to you without much stubbornness to Hancock. After all, the only reason she and a business at all in Goodneighbor was because of him, and it wasn't like he was asking for the space for free. One room was meant for you to conduct business; function as your “office” with a desk, terminal, a few cabinets for storage, and three or four sturdy tables that could be divided with stained, stale-smelling curtains you'd have to take outside and beat dust out of quite often.

The second room was locked at all times and had been modified to imitate what you imagined an actual surgical suite would look like—minus shiny white walls. You had help (normally from Kent Connolly) nailing rolls of plastic tarp around the perimeter of the room that you'd spray down with whatever amount of rubbing alcohol you could find.

Tucked in the corner of this special room, you kept your instrument stands and surgical tools tucked beneath even more plastic, hoping to preserve what little level of sterilization you'd managed to achieve. Dead center of the floor was a single metal table you used to perform most of your surgeries that were a little more complicated, bled a whole lot more than sewing someone's finger back on.

You saw it more than you'd ever dreamed you would.

Finally, the third room was a barren, simple space Hancock kept rented for you to sleep in. With the amount of work you saw in a twenty-four hour period, it was rare you ever stepped inside as you were usually found unconscious at your desk or spent your quiet moments at the Old State House with Hancock.

“Henry Thorpe—hey, I know that guy. Always blitzed out of his mind at The Third Rail—ailment is alcoholic cirrhosis—he has been lookin' kinda, ah, yellow lately—treatment is abstaining from alcohol—oof, probably not gonna happen—and steroids—you got anything good in your supply there?”

You stopped typing and looked up at him. “John. Seriously? Give it here.” He whisked the clipboard high in the air out of your reach. “I could've let you bleed out that day, jackass. Show a little respect.”

“Well, for one, you didn't let me bleed out,” he said, wrapping an arm snug around your waist once he coaxed you into standing. “Second, I know what you're like. You wouldn't let a radroach bleed out. Ain't no way you'd leave me high and dry back then.”

“Don't under—”

“Third,” he tossed the clipboard down onto your desk and held you with both arms. “I know you could take me out in a second with all your expertise and concoctions you've got on you. It's pretty fucking terrifying, and somehow real sexy at the same time. It's part of the reason why I like you so much. Someone who can kick my ass? Doesn't get hotter than that.”

You felt around the front of him, palms gliding from his chest to the thinness of his shoulders that were evident to you though the patriotic fabric he wore on his body. In these moments, you still didn't know how to respond to him when he came on so strong—even after months of this proximity, his tongue down your throat and between your legs, and the mornings you'd spend vomiting into a toilet with a bag of radaway dripping into your veins.

“So. You, uh, gonna come by tonight? I haven't gotten to see you in a while and I'm missin’ having you there in the morning.” Hancock went quiet for a moment as he trailed a hand along your back, fingers fitted parallel along your spine. “Because, you know, chem-induced hallucinations only do so much. They’re pretty damn nice, but they ain't better than the real thing, you feel me?”

You smacked your gums and smiled despite yourself. If it were anyone other than Hancock, you'd be disgusted by someone talking to you like that. If it were anyone other than Hancock, you'd be beside yourself in your prejudices thinking that no one like that deserved to be inside your body, in your bed, in your arms, kissing you sweetly with jet-breath and stale cigarette smoke still clinging to the roof of his mouth.

“Are you saying you like me more than the chems?” you asked with a foolish, love-stricken look.

He had a hand in the downy tufts of hair on the back of your neck, weakening your resolve to resist him the longer he kept at it with rhythmic strokes. “Better than the chems? Love, that's like me asking you if you like me more than surgery. And you really, really like your surgery.”

“Maybe halfway as much?” you wondered.

Hancock frowned but kept petting your neck. “Damn. That little? C'mon, you can do better than that.”

“Sixty percent.” He grunted. “Seventy percent?” A subdued ehhh. “Fine. Eighty.”

You were leaning fully against him at that point and hovering near his mouth. “How about eighty-five? Anything higher would be a lie.”

“Yeah. Sounds good. A nice, solid number.” He moved in to kiss you. “It's good enough for me.”

When he kissed you for a second time, you were the one seated on the desk while he put his weight on you. He split your legs apart to fit between them, coaxing you down onto your back while pressing his hands into the fat of your thighs, using his fingers to climb higher along your waist to the buttons of your pants.

There was only a little time left before you were supposed to unlock your doors for the day and take in all the weary-bodied, disease-havoced folks of the Commonwealth, so neither of you wasted a second that morning. He knew it was a mistake because you'd likely be contained to the bathroom and a cocktail of radaway and crushed up rad-x later on, whereas you knew this would make getting through the day much harder than it already was.

Still, you accepted him inside of you with his hard thrusts, open-mouthed kisses and tongue and panting that broke into loud moans you didn't have the sense to stifle—neither did he.

Everything besides this exact moment had fallen wayside for you both. The amount of sickness and death plaguing the Commonwealth. The way your surgical suite looked like a massacre every time you were finished. The paraphernalia that Hancock craved in an unending cycle. The troubles of running a growing community like Goodneighbor.

Such feelings were not mutual to the other residents in The Memory Den who heard everything in the grain of the wood—moans, pants, thumps, Hancock’s even filthier mouth, and the very second when you both unraveled together.

Irma, at such bothersome times, could only suck away dramatically on a cigarette and greatly envy the folks lying blissfully unaware inside the pods she watched over.

a/n; I have another idea with the same reader-character if y'all are interested. it'd be a more involved smut scene but you knoooooow

[herejusttosufferalong]

I've started and deleted this sentence several times now and don't really know how to begin. So let's just go for it and say seriously WHAT THE FUCK has been the last 6 months!? My mind is a clusterfuck rn. I love L and N but they are seriously debilitating. Like I've been see-sawing between casual nonchalance about everything saying "haha this is great ride, what's next in store?" to just confused exasperation and emotional fatigue. I don't even know these people, and yet I am so fucking invested. This has never happened to me. They are like a drug. Seriously, whatever they are selling, I will buy 10 of everything, pump it into my veins. Why is my kink now seeing them get married, have kids and L be a stay-at-home daddy while N rules the fucking world?! N, alone, has me questioning my sexuality. Then I remember L is there, and I go oh yeah him too. Them is my sexuality. It's so messy. Anyway, now to the point of this. I had some flashbacks while watching L's Loewe Vogue video today. Watching his groomer give him a lovely face and head massage instantly transported me to Ireland with the infamous forehead stroke. Honestly, imo, the biggest turning point of the whole tour. So much happened before this time, but I really do think this moment was critical. I will outline why.

Obviously, Ireland was a massive deal for N. The excitement of getting back home and meeting family and friends, the amazing reception, it was special. She talked ad nauseam about her mum meeting L and honestly all I could think was when has anyone been excited/nervous about their parents meeting just a friend? You feel that certain way because you're wanting approval, you're wanting them to feel the same way you do about that person and welcome them into the family, as it were. I've never felt that way with friends, but I had done with my boyfriend (now husband). But maybe that's just me? L didn't seem as caught up in it, like almost trying to downplay a lot of her ott excitement. I also noticed that they were less touchy feely overall compared to earlier on in the trip, which was so unhinged honestly, I didn't know what to do with myself. But then came the moment. I don't think enough people have broken this moment down. So the interviewer asks the question, that's been asked oh so many times, "was it easier or harder to do the intimacy scenes with a friend?" And N looks at L and thinks to herself, he has a hair out of place on his forehead, I'm going to reach out and stroke his forehead right in the middle of this god damn interview. Not once, but a few times, like her little hand was built to stroke that man's face. Now, tbf, she does ask permission but also tbf her hand is already at his face before he can answer a whispered, guttural, "mhmm". He leans in, we loose L for a bit there, then he comes back saying "ok" like you probably got that hair now, think we should stop now. And her going into 'mother' mode telling him to turn his head, good boy. And his little worried face when it's over. And them talking about how N just can't stop picking hairs off people on set. Mmm ok. If they were in Regency outfits, I would be expecting a mirror scene next up. But you might say to me, well shit like this has happened countless times, it's just another thing. Well, I say no, this time was different. They both knew they had crossed a line, publicly, her initiation, his reaction. Because they were strange as hell at the London premiere. He avoided her gaze. She visibly stopped herself from touching him. One occasion, I saw her reach out to his arm or back, and she looked behind him (I think where their teams were?), and immediately pulled her arm back. The first moment she was asked about people shipping Lukola she had a pre-prepared speech ready to go to explain the head stroke. It was forced. A lot of what she said seemed so rehearsed, and although, I'm certain N does think a lot about what she is going to say in interviews, usually she is very natural about it and let's it flow. That lady was stressed and making a point that L is just a 'bud'. The lady doth protest to much, methinks. She's seen everything we've typed about her and L's behaviour during the tour, so why start over-explaining and defending behaviour now? She was STRESSED. That was the overt, obvious, stop yourself type of behaviour, and yet we still saw SOME of that unconscious stuff seep through, like him searching for her hand, her looking up at him like a God, her stroking his thumb with hers while holding hands (seriously, why was that SO intimate to me?). Point being, you can't fake that stuff, the repression and release. The unconscious behaviour. They knew something was rumbling. Or at least, N did. My opinion is that they have not acted on those rumblings, because if they had, it would be OVER. Electric. Power surge. Goodnight. Pack your bags and goodbye. We might not even exist anymore, tbh. But I shall wait over here and keep eating all the crumbs I can get. (I am sooo sorry about the length of whatever this is, thank you much the same, it was so nice to vent).

OKay but like I kinda fuckin love you anon...

I had the biggest smile on my face reading this.

There is so much to unpack here. We will have to chat sometime.

LOVE x

[leeyammie]

Wonbin def is a top but likes sucking stuff yk yk. He always teases the reader whilst practice or before a concert. And when they are alone at a hotel. Wonbin would def say stuff like “cmon. It’s my turn to get head..” and the reader has no choice but to suck him off

No One Got To Know

Warning: Minors DNI / NSFW

Masterlist

Pairing: Top!Wonbin Park x Bottom!Male reader

Genre: smut

Word Count: 1,154 words

Summary: It wasn't the first time you and Wonbin insist on sharing the same hotel rooms butting in "your comfort" as a reason, except that this night seemed a little more special than the others.

You and Wonbin have known each other for ages now, and it wasn't anything for you to engage and partake in each other's sexual life. It actually became a daily habit for you two to sit in your room at night watching sexual videos while wanking each other off, bringing yourselves to your limits. However, tonight was a little different. You don't recall how things escalated that way but you do know that it all started by you ending up faced with Wonbin's proud dick in front you, it's rose tinted tip glistering with precum.

"What's the matter pretty boy? Are you gonna keep this big guy waiting?" Wonbin asked lifting your chin your eyes interlocked and forming a grin on his face. "Big?..." you thought to yourself, indeed, his "big" would be an understatement to describe his shaft. It had that nice, round, and proportional girth along which bulgy veins added to its structure. Having snaped out from your daydream, you grabbed it by both hands feeling its warmth and hardness. You then wiped off the precum leaking from the tip and smeared all along his dick. "You know if I wanted a handjob, I would have done it myself" he said looking down at you with those lewd eyes of his.

Having understood the assignment you leaned forward, sticked out your tongue and started running it all over his member. You couldn't believe that even his precum tasted better than expected. You then went back up to his tip again before engulfing his shaft slowly yet fully for the first time in your mouth. It went all the way back until it touched your throat, feeling about to gag. "Fuck~ It feels even better than any of the fleshlights that I've used before~" he let out moaning softly. You never pictured yourself getting compared to a fleshlight, let alone by Wonbin, yet for some reason you felt so turned on by his lewd comments that you wanted more.

You started sucking his member at a steady pace, lowkey enjoying the way it would twitch inside. "You like that pretty boy? You like feeling a meaty cock inside that slutty mouth of yours huh?" he started whimpering while matching your speed as he was thrusting his hips up and down, every time his small manly bush hitting your nose, which made you inhale his mighty musk. Eventually, you could feel how pleasured he got once he grabbed by the hair pulling his dick roughly in and out of your mouth, practically face fucking you. "Oh yes baby~ Keep on sucking it out~ I'm gonna be done soon~" And by "soon" it literally took him 5 seconds before emptying his thick, sticky and surprisingly sweet load inside your mouth.

As he got up standing, he grabbed near the bed turning you around. "Hop in all four bitch". And you didn't even think twice before obeying his orders. Looking down at your exposed butt he bit his lip before spanking it forcefully, the sound resonating in the whole room. You gasped at his touch while tearing up. You turned around amazed by the figure in front of you, there stood Wonbin with his shredded and sculpted body, holding his throbbing dick in his hand, "Binnie~ I- I need inside~ Please it's itching~..." you requested shyly looking down embarrassed to meet his gaze. Then, he caught you off guard as he shoved one his long fingers up your hole forcing you to whimper and look back at him. He leaned forward "I'll prep and fuck you so good you'd beg to ride this stick every night~" You'd lie if you said that you didn't feel hard almost leaking from his words.

Soon enough you found yourself generating muffled moans, gripping on the bedsheets as Wonbin was eating out your ass like a buffet to feast on. "Your ass tastes so much better than I've expected. Have I known we'd get to this I would have fucked you up a long time ago" he said as he took a breath from attacking you hole. Unconsciously, you replied to him "Then what is taking you so long to get inside me already~" You didn't realize what you said until you were brought back to your sense by sharp sensation of getting penetrated. Wonbin seemed to have gotten a little to excited and decided to get it in all in one go. He remained still for a minute allowing you to adjust to this new feeling.

"I'll make you regret those words fucking whore~" and he sure was a man of his word. He gripped at your hips tightly as he pushed himself in and out of you enjoying the view of your ass eating up his dick so nicely. He gradually started to quicken his pace, feeling the way his bulging veins would rub against your inner walls, sending shiver up your spine. "Fuck~ Wonbin slow down a little you're too big to handle~" you whimpered in despair as your body started to sweat out. Yet, Wonbin didn't listen, quite the opposite, he increased the force of his thrusts turning them into a rhythmic motion. "I. Finally. Got. To. Tame. That. Hole. Of. Yours. And. You. Want. Me. To Stop?" he said in a groaning tone after every single thrust.

He pushed you down further as he leaned down his own body, still maintaining the same pace fucking you into oblivion. He started to kiss your back praising how good you were taking him. "That's right~ Milk daddy's dick that you love so much~ You're taking me in like a champ big guy~" Those words only made your hole grip around his cock even tighter as if it feared feeling void again. "Eager to squeeze out that load inside you aren't ya?" He then flipped you around spreading your legs apart before cruising inside you again. "That's right~ I wanna see the way my cock makes you feel when it brushes that sweet spot of yours~" Feeling to lightheaded to speak you brought him closer to you, your lips crashing into each other. Yet, you couldn't hold yourself from moaning in his mouth and that only turned him on even more until he finally felt it coming, and so did you. Your insides got warmer, fuller, messier but you were feeling so pleasured that you gripped on his shoulders as he kept on emptying into you what felt like an endless amount.

As you rested your head back to take a breath, you found yourself carried up with your legs locked around Wonbin's waist and your hands wrapped around him. "You really thought that would be it? " He asked with a frown on his face as he carried you, pressing you against the wall. And let's say, you felt too sore the next day to even move a finger spending the rest of the day in his arms.

note: Hey! Hope you enjoyed the read. If you'd like to write about other idols or other themes where you see that my style would fit do not hesitate on sending them away! Thanks again for passing by! (I apologize in advance for any typos)

[littleststarfighter]

Sorry to have disappeared again. It's almost a year since my mum passed away, and I've been fighting a pretty bad depression/anxiety attack. Just really needed a break from social media and life honestly 😞 Feeling a bit better and more myself. So I will get around to sharing my art again soon here and on my Insta. Got a bunch of MCR work and Steddie as they are my main ones right now. Especially Frerard 😛

I’m also really sorry to my Patreon followers as I feel I've dropped the ball so much lately when posting. It’s just been a very rough few months. So I've only really been sharing WIPs, finished works and some discounts and goodies when selling the calendars. I wanted to offer so much more like other artists do. So I wanted to ask for those who follow others, follow me and are veterans of the site. I need your expert opinions. What else would people love to see from me or want from a Patreon? And what can I do better to give you things you want from me? I don't feel I'm offering enough or doing things worth following. I do want to offer commissions, add more store items like stickers and keychains. So I will offer some things like money off things in my shop in future and freebies to higher tiers like prints of what I've done so far or stickers ect. But any ideas would be amazing.

I should follow some artists I love to get an idea of what they offer, but I'm really skint right now.

Again sorry for vanishing.

[changisworld]

hi rènee!! hope ur doing okay these days !! <3

can I get han jisung x f reader smut

hannie wants to try out doggy for the first time with reader?

it doesn't have to be long, and please don't rush yourself. if you don't want do accept this request, please don't do it at all

I love you and see you!

helloooo!! I’m doing fine thank you & thank you again for this request!<3

this drove me up the wall & i’ve been TRYING TO FIND ANY SPARE MOMENT TO WRITE THIS SI MWAH MWAH MWAH MWAH thank you for giving me this, I hope you like<3

wordcount;2,169

18+ MDNU, smut under the cut

©ANY translation, copy & paste, posting of my work is strictly forbidden for ANY posts/ writing i post.

->Divider by @cafekitsune <3

-Taglist & Anon list is open

main masterlist here

SMUT WARNINGS: Jisung is a huge softy, Needy Jisung(obviously), slightly insecure reader, body worship, begging, praise, PIV, failed pullout method, handjob, fingering, TIIINYYY amounts of biting>:3

⭑･ﾟﾟ･:༅｡.｡༅:ﾟ::✼✿　　✿✼:ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

You've been friends with benefits with Jisung for around a month after you both met through mutual friends & one thing ended up leading to another.

Your sex life hasn't been boring at all by any means, despite only hooking up six times, but there's one thing Hannie has wanted to try, but you've just been a bit, nervous in a way?

You're under Jisung right now, making out on your bed & your legs are parted, nude except for the plain white cotton panties with a slightly noticeable & his lower body resting in between as he caresses your inner thigh as his tongue explores your mouth.

"Jisung, stop teasing" you whimper, dragging out the end of the word as you break the kiss to ask him, his spit making your lips shiny.

Jisung smirks as he bites his bottom lip before locking lips with you again, not giving you a verbal response but his fingers slowly slide down to your covered core & drags his slightly chubby fingers up & down, making your hips grind against him as much as they can with his lower half still against you & you decide you want to give him a taste of his own medicine & you worm your hand down to his still clothed cock & graze your hand over it, the pressure of your hand varying every few seconds.

You start to palm him over his basketball shorts & you can tell he's not wearing underwear underneath & you feel yourself getting even more wet at the fact. At the same time, Jisung lets his fingers make their move of taking off your panties, the colder air making your pussy clench around air.

"So wet over nothing, I've barely done anything." he chuckles as you just frown up at him, pouting at him as you pull his shorts down just enough to pull out his chubby cock, not even slightly surprised that it's already sticky from his precum.

Jisung slides not one but two fingers into you after getting a good feel of how wet you already are & starts at a painfully slow pace, more feeling your walls than actually trying to make you orgasm & you squeeze his cock in your hand, making him yelp.

"Sungie go quicker, want your cock." you plea at him & he looks at you with a devious look in his eyes, full of lust which makes your stomach do a flip, but Jisung decides to actually listen to you as he pulls his fingers out of you, making you grumble at the loss of contact but he shuts you up by shoving the two fingers that are now soaked in your juices, into your mouth & you start to suckle on his digits on your tongue, spit coating them.

"Say pretty please" he teases as he lifts your shirt enough to touch your bare tits & he lets a glob of spit land directly on your slightly on your nipple, it hardening as soon as it lands, making your back arch into his frame as you swirl your thumb over the tip of his cock, his hips jerking into your soft hand at a slow pace.

"Pleaseee Hannie, want it, so wet for youuu" you beg, your hand picking up the pace around his dick, making him wince as he looks down at you, not the normal, bubbily, shiny eyes not being the ones you're looking at, but instead, his eyes are darkened in the best possible way.

Jisung lets out a groan at your words & leans off of you & sits on the back of his knees & replaces your hand with his own & slowly jerks himself off over you & your fingers start to pinch & rub on your pretty nipples, smirking up at him, admiring his figure as he takes his shirt off, revealing his stunning honey skin.

You reach down to position his cock at your entrance but he lurches his lower body backwards, his dick just out of reach now & you groan in protest.

"Y/nieeee, can we, try itttt?" he questions, raising his pitch at the end of the sentence as he lays his hands on your thighs, kneading your skin like a cat with a blanket.

You look up at him & see the neediness in his eyes, nibbling at his lower lip, him being a bit nervous to even ask, he has no idea why you are on the fence about it! He has asked you twice before, but you just flipped him around & rode him both times before, he is obviously not complaining! But he just doesn't understand why you are trying to avoid it in a way!

You cover your face with your arms, your cheeks going red & you let out a nervous giggle & Jisung returns it, unsure if he has made you uncomfortable in any way.

"We don't need to! But it would feel so good y/nnie, pinky swear!" he chirps, going as far as to wiggle his pinky at you, showing his promise.

"Eeek, it's just, it's scary! makes me nervous" you respond, avoiding his direct eye contact with him, this time, his boba eyes are the ones burning into your face, his fingers still caressing your thighs.

"What?! howww? why would you be nervous y/nnie? It's just us here silly." he snaps back, his voice honestly full of shock & surprise, what on earth would you have to be nervous about? have you seen yourself?

"Just, because I can't really see what's going on & uh, I just, It's not a good sight?" you murmur, almost inaudible as you cover your face again, nervously chuckling to yourself & Jisung quite literally gasps as he leans forward again & moves your hands away from your face & kisses your nose & cheeks.

"You have no reason to be nervous, have you seen you? I'd be obsessed with myself if I was you! you are quite literally the hottest person I've ever even saw, don't feel insecure with me." he replies in a soft, quiet voice, reassuring you as he keeps pecking your cheek, spitting out the words between each one & you get butterflies in your stomach, the fact that your friends with benefits is talking to you like this? You can barely think straight & you instantly believe what is coming from his mouth.

You cup his chubby cheeks in your hands & connect your lips with his again, your body untensing at the touch. "Mkay, we can do it, don't look too deeply though!" you blabber, both of you giggling at your sudden outburst, half out of excitement & also nerves.

"We don't need to obviously, I'm not pressuring you, I'll still happily fuck you in any other position." Jisung says as he crawls back up to sit back on his knees & you're not far behind him, sitting up on the bed & leaning down just enough to kiss his dark nipples & his abs tense up, making his ears go red at the tips.

"Don't worry, I know, but why not just try it hmm?" You purr at him & he can't help but fizzle up inside at your reply & you take the chance to turn over so you're now on your hands & knees & Jisung whimpers at the sight & he shuffles back just enough to bite your ass cheek, making you both giggle like school kids & you wiggle your ass as his teeth still rest on your skin, making him hum against you.

"You look so good like this, can't believe you are so shy about it, your ass looks so good." He speaks out, more to himself but despite that it doesn't go unnoticed by you.

"Thank you for trusting me, so sweet." he blabs out again as he pumps his still, now painfully hard cock in his hand before he teases your cunt with it, purposely knocking your clit with his tip every time he drags it through your folds & you keep pushing your hips back against him, non verbally trying to tell him to 'get a move on' & get a move on he does as he aligns himself up with your hole, your juices already coating his tip, before he slowly... painfully slowly pushes himself inside, showing more restraint than he ever has as he does so.

Jisung buries himself out at the base & you both let out a moan in unison & you very quickly realise he is reaching a complete different area in this position & you have to try ground your brain to your body.

"Holy shit Sungie, you're deep." you moan, your body already feeling too heavy to stand on your arms. "Feels so good l-like this, I'm gonna move now, mkay?" he stutters, his brain already going into overdrive.

You quickly nod & he takes this as a green light & he cups his hands on your waist & he starts to thrust his hips shallowly in & out of your cunt & you didn't think sex with Jisung could feel any better, but you were deeply wrong, why did you let yourself miss out on this?

"Jis- go faster, faster" you whine out as you use your shoulder to try shuffle the hair that's now sticking to your face with the thin layer of sweat making your face glow & jisung groans at your words as his hands move to your ass as he picks up his pace & the sound of your skin clapping & sticking together fills your small bedroom, his balls hitting against your clit, making your legs tense up.

"You're so tight, holy shit, yo-you're so stunnin', your ass, so hot." he squeaks to you as his hands fondle your ass, spreading his palms out & jiggling your ass in his hands before kneading the flesh, your skin getting a red tinge to it, making his cock pulsate inside you, which you feel & it feels good.

Jisung somehow gets that tiny bit deeper & it starts to bully into your gummy spot & your arms give out & your top half flops forwards, your face smushing into the pillow & drool starts to fall from your lip as your eyes clamp shut & you start moving your hips against Jisung, meeting his cock half way & Jisung is trying his absolute best to keep his eyes from rolling to the back of his head to be able to see how much your pussy is wrapping around his cock & the small, creamy ring now forming around the base, sticking & staining his pubes.

"I-Gonna cum Sung-" you stutter, your words muffled by the pillow & your hands & knuckles are turning completely white from how hard you're gripping the same pillow.

Jisung whines at your words & his mouth is incapable of closing, his high pitched mutters & babbles spluttering out his mouth & spit leaks from the tip of his bottom lip & falls right onto your tightest hole before dripping down & that sends you catapulting towards your orgasm.

You let out a squeal as your body tenses up as your legs shake & if it wasn't for Jisung holding your entire weight by your ass, you would have flopped fully onto the bed & probably off the bed .

The way you're clenching & unclenching around his dick as your orgasm washes over you & Jisung lets out a squeak as he picks up the pace, chasing his own release now.

"So g-gorgeous, you have n-no idea, g'na cum, thank you thank y-you thank yo-" he stutters out in a shriek as he plucks up the energy to try pull himself out... but he tried the tiniest bit too soon, the second he grabs his base, his orgasm is already spilling inside you, making him squeal in a needy tone & you whine at the feeling of his cum painting your walls.

Jisung collects himself before pulling out of your now completely soaked, puffy hole & slowly helps you lie fully down, not failing to realise how red your ass now is, so he keeps you on your back & he lies beside you & moves your head to the side so you can actually breathe & he gives you his usual, dopey smile & you let out a weak chuckle at his cute face.

"We can lie like this for a minute n then i'll go get us water, need my breath back." he speaks out, breathless & you just nod before shuffling towards him & you lay your head on his chest & close your eyes, trying your best to not fall asleep as he starts fiddling with the bracelet on your wrist.

[writingquestionsanswered]

Not to be a downer, but I actually finished my novel and now I’m confused because I don’t want to publish it. I don’t even particularly want anyone other than maybe my two close friends to even read it. What on Earth did I write 40k words (which I know is not really long enough for a novel, but it’s still far and away the longest thing I’ve ever written) for? I know people say “write for yourself” but like… am I just wasting my time? Help?

(p.s. you can leave this off anon)

(p.p.s your blog is really great 👍)

There's No Such Thing as Wasted Writing

I'm going to tackle this two ways...

#1 - "Write For Yourself" - there's a reason this common phrase has echoed through the Hall of Writers since time immemorial. It's because it's true! Writing doesn't have to be anything more than a pastime. It doesn't have to be anything more than something you do for your own benefit and enjoyment.

I have an in-joke with family members about how any time one of us does something the least bit crafty, DIY, skilled, whatever, a particular family member will always say, "You did a great job! You should do it for a living!" Like, someone can't even crochet a Kawaii mushroom without being pressured to turn it into an Etsy dynasty, or paint a cabinet without being pressured to become the next Property Brothers. And that's such a BANANAS capitalistic mindset, isn't it? This idea that nothing can be done purely for our own enjoyment. That you can't just write a novel because you want to... you can only write it if you plan to share it or publish it? It's just so silly.

And, the thing is, we don't even apply that mentality to a lot of other things people do purely for enjoyment. No one is streaming all of Bridgerton in two nights and saying, "I enjoyed every second of that, but why did I do that? Such a waste of time!" No one spends an hour strumming their guitar under the stars on a beach, and then says, "That was so relaxing and fun, but I didn't charge for that performance and I didn't record it to sell it, so that was obviously a waste of time."

You know what I mean?

#2 - And Anyway, Practice Makes Perfect - And if you keep writing--even if you continue not to share or publish--you'll get better and better with each story you write. Which, maybe all that means is you get to appreciate your own improvement, but also, should you ever change your mind and decide to write something to share or publish, you've now spent time honing your skills. Even if those other stories never see the light of day, they're still an important foundation of the writer you become. Do you know how many unpublished novellas, novels, and short stories I have? Too many to count. Hundreds of fan-fiction and original fiction short stories I've only shared with one or two other people, if anyone. A dozen or so novels and novellas that have only been read by a few people, and some haven't been read by anyone else or have only been read by my CPs. I would never consider those stories and novels and novellas to be a waste of time, because I know every single one made me a better writer. My published work is better because I wrote those other things.

So, I hope that makes you feel better. At the very least you hopefully enjoyed writing your novel--or at least got something out of it--and you definitely honed your writing skills, which matters! ♥

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

[toomanythoughts2]

I've been thinking a lot more of Post-Klok Pre-Series Toki and I keep coming up with so many missing scenes on his development.

I've been really thinking on how Toki's role in the band, a lot of times, is the "younger brother" arche type, which is obvious, but there's also a lot of snippits in the show that really highlight just how ingrained it is in their mind that Toki was once a child or very young when he joined. In "Dethclown", Nathan yells at Toki to not run because it's wet (near the hot tub) when Toki goes to get the door for Rockso (also the whole, "I thought we agreed--no clowns?"/"No, we didn't agreededs on nothings. We all just yelled and then he was beaten. That was our conclusions." - Very older brother/younger brother argument) (Also, Skwisgaar telling Toki he doesnt have to overcompensate, that they'll all pay more attentions to him -- very older brother energy). In "Dethecution", Nathan tells Toki, "Toki you may clear the table when you feel it is time." How many times do you think Toki cleared the table as a kid when he was living in the apartment or wherever they stayed before Mordhaus was complete? Toki can barely cook (granted, he made chicken tenders in "Diversityklok" but this like a decade after the time we're talking about, so that doesn't count.) but the others do have a few skills. It was probably a chore of his while living with the band. In "Dethcamp", (which is arguably the most family dynamic-esque episode in the entire show) Nathan is seen picking up Toki's clothes, helping him pack for camp, gifting him something he knows Toki would like, and defending him from bullies. He also called Toki, "Little guy" when he said how much he misses him. Pickles is seen defending Toki from Skwisgaar and Murderface's bad talking, while Murderface and Skwisgaar rag on Toki because deserts always have to be made sugar free and they can't watch scary movies with him around. In the episodes where Toki gets wrapped up in Murderface's schemes, a lot of the hatred or aggravation from the other three, never seems to be on Toki, but more so Murderface. Like how parents get mad at older siblings for getting their younger siblings into stuff because they don't believe that the younger siblings would have done it by themselves. Like in "Dethsiduals", it's very clear that Toki is just along for the ride, even going against some of the things Murderface says while in court. All of this just screams that Toki is, unfortunately, still seen as this younger "child" because that's how the band first met him and treated him. Now on to the fun part!

I don't think that the band was overly parenting, they're still rockstars, they're still assholes. But this is a level of care and structure in the band that definitely shows that they did something to help Toki. Or things they they choose not to do if Toki was a minor when he joined.

For one, I've been really loving the idea that Skwisgaar had a very strict "No sex in the house if Toki is there" due to his own personal traumas with his mother. Toki did a lot of 7/11 runs with other band members or by himself if Skwisgaar brought someone home. Like, he would see Toki and a part of him yearned to be protect in the way he wishes he was protected. So, he did not have sex when Toki was at the house. Now, once he's 18, that goes out the window but Toki is now a legal adult and needs to deal with it.

I also like the idea that Toki did not understand a shower set up and was taking baths from the sink. Like, he would look at the shower knob and immediately freak out. He just wouldn't understand it. So, Pickles ends up teaching him the basics and Toki is so enthralled by it, he strips down immediately and gets in with Pickles still right there. (I see Toki as being very unashamed of nakedness) Pickles also helped him understand shampoo, conditioner, and basic hygiene using modern "gadgets" (deodorant in a stick or toothpaste from a plastic tube.) Pickles just didn't want another Murderface. 1 Murderface stank was enough for all of them.

Another idea that I'm honestly thinking about writing is Charles taking Toki to the mall to spend his first paycheck and going straight for the toys only to get overstimulated and freak out. Charles has to take Toki back to the car to calm down. When everyone comes back with their purchases, Toki is embarrassed that he didn't buy anything. On the way home, they pop a tire while getting gas, and the guys have to change it. Toki doesn't help (he has no idea) but he spots a store across the street from them and decides to go in without telling anyone. It ends up being a hobby store and a cashier spots him staring at the model plane, and starts explaining them to him. Toki has no clue what is being told to him, but likes the attitude of the man, so he buys one, plus some paints and brushes and other gear to go along with it. Charles rushes in after the purchases, slightly alarmed because Toki just disappeared. But Toki doesn't notice and is ready to go back to the car to show off his purchases. (Charles ABSOLEUTLY makes him hold his hand across the street and tells him to look both ways.)

I've also been thinking about what did Toki and Murderface's first scheme look like? Was it something really simple like Murderface using Toki to ask one of the guys if they could have Mexican instead of Chinese food tonight? Or was it something sneakier, like using Toki as a distraction to steal booze? Did Murderface teach him bad words with wrong meanings, and tell him to say them in front of the others? Did Murderface also get some hero worship from a very young Toki because he too played a guitar-like instrument? Murderface was probably a bad influence on Toki (they all were but...) with how to act in public, his view points on women and children, how to talk, how to have his form of "confidence".

Toki was probably never allowed to partake in interviews without Skwisgaar, Nathan, and Charles present. Skwisgaar to translate to Toki and Charles to make sure the questions were "within legal right to ask a minor". Nathan was there to make sure that their image was upheld and to intimidate the interviews from asking anything non-metal. But a lot of old footage of these interviews actually show Nathan doubling as a bodyguard around Toki from interviewers on his back and show him gently guiding him through crowds and away from people who keep asking odd things or just generally gave him an uncomfortable vibe. Nathan definitely has some kind of guidance/caregiving vibes when it comes to Toki. He does not do it to any other bandmember, just him.

Anyway, the band looks at Toki and they probably still see this version of Toki:

Ok, that's all :)

[chaostroberry1]

Selamat pagi!

Don't you know that it means 'Goor morning' in my country? Anyways, how are you? I hope you're doing well just as I am. Don't forget to have a healthy sleep and schedule

If it's okay for you, I would like to request a hcs poly! Beel+Satan with a M!domReader.

Only if you want of course! You don't need to fulfill my request if you are tired, since I've saw there's many people requesting beel with M!domReader so I hope it is not too much for you if I also request the same thing

Terimakasih! ='Thank you!'

Hello! Sure thing! ^^ what a nice request 💕 please dont be afraid to chat me again if this isn't what you asked for! I'll gladly remake it if so.

Poly HCs ROR beel+Satan × M!Dom!reader

Warning : a little nsfw, and mentions of sex.

- first of all, if you were to be with Beelzebub and satan, in a RELATIONSHIP, it would mean that you are immune to his curse.

- he loved you so much to the point that even the curse within him fell hard for you. You were just the perfect man! He knew you would treat him right.

- Beelzebub didn't confess, because he was afraid. Until he saw you, his love meter skyrocket high in the air—which forced Satan out. Satan was the one who went up to you and confessed, using his sharp claw-like finger to trace a small scar down your jaw, before planting a kiss on you.

"I love you (m/n)...I love you so so much~"

- imagine a literal demon arching its back and clinging onto you. Not just any demon, but a demon inside of Beelzebub, who was now saying he loved you.

- you ended up having to return his feelings, which overjoyed the demon, smiling all giddy while you held his wrists, avoiding his claws and kissing him.

- when you kissed him, Beelzebub returned to his state of mind. His eyes widening at the sudden touch of your lips on his. He didn't know what was going on, that's why he was taken by surprise.

- and after all that stuff, you guys were now in a relationship.

- he was closed off at first, but then he slowly opened up to you with time, seeing how sweet and nice you treated him. Like a he was a pretty princess.

- now he's always touch starved, longing to feel you whenever he could. You can't blame him, especially after all he's done for you.

- Bro do not get me started on how you always have to wake up to a horny demon wanting to bounce on cock for probably the whole night. That was a nightly thing btw, so good luck.

- both are submissive, but Beelzebub is more shy, needy, and compliant—while Satan is more of a power bottom, doing stuff he feels like doing. Bending over? Yes. Sucking your cock? Yes. He is pretty good at it, yeah.

- you are basically left with your cock used up from all that.

- for both of them, you love to give them kisses. But what do they give you in return?

- Beelzebub, as mentioned, is shy, and will not know how to respond to your affection, even if he's very touch starved for you. Don't get him wrong, he doesn't hate it, he's just not used to it.

- Satan gives you a blowjob. Thank you very much for asking.

- cuddling with both them gets messy but that's alright. You are the man of the relationship. You have to take charge and deal with it.

- okay, maybe there are too many spicy headcanons here, but I need to add an additional.

- one time, you walked in on Satan wearing a skimpy sex outfit, meant for a seductress. When I tell you your cock was in for a treat, I mean it. And no you guys are not quiet in bed.

- you are the one who works a job, you receive money to buy food for both of you, even though he doesn't really need it. You still rather buy him things and gifts to show your love for him.

- dates are usually with Beelzebub. To pretty sceneries or closed off places for just the two of you. But once Satan is out, you guys have to do the tango right there.

- but most of the time when you aren't fucking, you like to cuddle a lot. Cuddling with Satan is more of him nibbling on your ear, while Beelzebub, is mostly just quiet and tomato red from the lovey dovey.

- you know, at random times when it's Satan's turn to be with you, he's always telling you that he loves you, and will continue even if you say that you love him back. He's going to make sure it'll be what you dream of at night.

- you are the first and forever last male lover he'll ever have and love with all his heart. He will do everything to make sure you never leave him.

- even if you died, he will remain loyal to your corpse, or find ways to bring you back to life. Even if you look or act different, he'll still love you.

[max1461]

Here is an observation of common attitudes I see in tech-adjacent spaces (mostly online).

The thing about programming/tech is, at its base, it's historically and culturally contingent. There are of course many fundamental (physical and mathematical) limitations on what a computer can and cannot do, how fast it can do things, and so on. But at least as much of the modern tech landscape is the product of choices made by people about how these machines will work, choices that very much could have been made differently. And modern computing technology is a huge tower of these choices, each resting on and grappling with the ones below it. If you're, say, a web developer writing a web app, the sheer height of this tower of contingent human decisions that your work rests on is almost incomprehensible. And by and large, programmers know this.

I am not dispensing some secret wisdom that I think tech workers don't have. On the contrary, I think the vast contingency of it all is blindingly obvious to anyone who has tried to make a computer do anything. But tech is also, well, technical, and do you know what else is technical? Science. I think this has lead to a sort of cultural false affinity, where tech is perceived, both from within and without, as more similar to science than it is to the humanities. Certainly, there are certain kinds of intellectual labor that tech shares with the sciences. But there are also, as described above, certain kinds of intellectual labor that tech shares to a much greater degree with the humanities, namely (in the broadest terms): grappling with other people's choices.

From without, I think this misplaced affinity leads people to believe that technology is less contingent than it actually is. But I think this belief would be completely untenable from within; it just cannot contend with reality. I've never met a tech worker or enthusiast who seems to think this way. Rather, I feel there is a persistent perception among tech-inclined people that science is more contingent than it actually is. I don't think this misperception rises to the level of a belief, rather I think it is more of an intuition. I think tech people have very much trained themselves (rightly, in their native context) to look at complex systems and go "how could this be reworked, improved, done differently?" I think this impulse is very sensible in computing but very out of place in, say, biology. And I suppose my conjecture (this whole post is purely conjectural, based on a gut sense that might not be worth anything) is that this is one of the main reasons for the popularity of transhumanism in, you know, the Bay. And whatnot.

I'm not saying transhumanism is actually, physically impossible. Of course it's not! The technology will, I strongly suspect, exist some day. But if you're living in 2024, I think the engineering mindset is more-or-less unambiguously the wrong one to bring to biology, at least macrobiology. This post is not about the limits of what is physically possible, it's about the attitudes that I sometimes see tech people bring to other endeavors that I think sometimes lead them to fall on their face. If you come to biology thinking about it as this contingent thing that you must grapple with, as you grapple with a novel or a codebase or anything else made by humans, I think it will make you like biology less and understand it less well.

When I was younger and a lot more naive, as a young teenager who knew a little bit about programming and nothing about linguistics, I wanted to create a "logical language" that could replace natural languages (with all their irregularities and perceived inefficiencies) for the purpose of human communication. This is part of how I initially got into conlanging. Now, with an actual linguistics background, I view this as... again, perhaps not per se impossible, but extremely unlikely to work or even to be desirable to attempt in any foreseeable future, for a whole host of rather fundamental reasons. I don't feel that this desire can survive very well upon confrontation with what we actually know (and crucially also, what we don't know) about human language.

I mean, if you want to try, you can try. I won't stop you.

Anyway, I feel that holding onto this sort of mindset too intensely does not really permit engagement with nature and the sciences. It's the same way I think a lot of per se humanities people fudge engagement with the sciences, where they insist on mounting some kind of social critique even when it is not appropriate (to be clear, I think critique of scientific practices/institutions are sometimes appropriate, but I think people whose professional training gives them an instinct to critique often take it too far).

So like, I guess that's my thesis. Coding is a humanity in disguise, and I wish that people who are used to dealing with human-made things would adopt a more native scientific or naturalist mindset when dealing with science and nature.