#and then I read something like “it never occurred to me to go to my mother for help”

[lemotmo]

please break this down for me who has autism and cannot for the life of me read nuanced facial expressions because I don't get the excitement? Nothing significant happened? Why is everyone taking this as literal confirmation? I hate my brain sometimes because I don't get it 😞

I'll try my best Nonny.

The entire Buddie scene was gold. The way Buck just walked in as if he is used to doing this, even though this isn't his own home? The way Eddie obviously doesn't seem to mind that Buck does this?

All of this is a big tell that these two are closer than close. That this is something that regularly occurs. Even Maddie didn't just walk into her brother's loft last week when she brought Jee over.

The kitchen scene was also amazing. Eddie complimenting Buck on his baking, Buck giving him that little pleased smile, while rummaging through Eddie's cupboards as if it's his own home. And again, Eddie lets him. He doesn't seem to care. Every single frame of this scene shows us just how comfortable Buck is in the Diaz house. He belongs there. And Eddie loves it.

Then Buck sees Eddie turn over the tablet. He's immediately curious why Eddie does this. Instead of letting it go, he actually picks up the tablet and looks, while Eddie doesn't even protest.

This is something I would never ever think of doing when I'm around my friends. When my friend's tablet or phone is lying around, I won't just take it to see what they were doing on it earlier. That's just so impolite and a breach of trust. The only person I would allow to do something like this or the only person I wouldn't feel uncomfortable doing this to would be my significant other.

So again, this is a very telling scene.

Buck's face falls when Eddie reveals he's looking at houses in El Paso to be closer to Chris. But he quickly recovers and tells Eddie he's helping him out. Once again, Buck is stepping right into Eddie's mess to help him.

As he sits down, Eddie looks at him fondly, obviously appreciating Buck wanting to help out like that. Then we focus on Buck's face and he goes through an entire face journey:

First he is still smiling a little, but as soon as Eddie turns around, his smile drops away. You can clearly see him process the news that Eddie is leaving. You can see on his face that it's hitting him that he'll lose Eddie (and Chris) forever if he goes back to El Paso. He is blinking quickly which is a sign of distress. He then looks down at the tablet that's still on the website with the houses and for a brief second you can see the despair on his face. He is going through all the stages of 'OH FUCK NO! I DON'T WANT HIM TO LEAVE ME!'.

Now, I don't think he quite understands why he is feeling so strongly about this, but as 8b will progress, he'll most definitely do some more introspection and it will hit him like an anvil then, that he is in love with Eddie.

Hope this helped Nonny. ❤️

[britneyshakespeare]

you: nicholas alexander chavez, the actor from ryan murphy's recent work

me, a mama's girl and daytime tv viewer:

[fictionadventurer]

The Rosemary Tree is the first time I've had to put down a book so I could sob over how beautiful it was.

[yourgamemasterthewhiterabbit]

One thing that's really sunk in now that I am in my late 30's and finally processing everything, especially having other experiences to contrast things against, is just how much my childhood was impacted in major ways by early attitudes I learned but never noticed.

Like you know how kids cry out to their mothers or parents for help? Or go to them when they have nightmares? That kind of stuff? I just never fucking did that. I remember just never fucking doing that, and I remember decidedly not going to my parents for help with anything else as a kid or teen. My mom used to even brag about what a quiet baby I was. How I'd sleep all day and just make quiet cooing noises all night in my crib.

Instead of asking for more food the moment I was able I'd hunt bugs for myself int he garden, forcing my mother to leave food out for me to "forage". Because by the time I could crawl or walk my first instinct was to look for a solution myself.

And I know why.

I know my parents have always made their lack of willingness to be supportive or understanding preemptively understood. I remember crying as a child to the point of hyperventilating, standing there trying to calm myself down as best I could, and eventually figuring out that if I sobbed out "I - Need- A - Hug" my mother would clue in that hugging me helped. But I had to figure out that it helped calm me down and communicate that to her before that support was even offered.

Usually how it would go is my sister would already be upset about something and acting out, and the moment I tried to voice that I was having a problem with something too there would be this immediate "Oh don't you start >:(" Like whether I was alone or not the moment I started to seem visibly upset things had gone too far, and people would continue to treat me as a litmus test for that for the rest of my life. Other people could cry and scream but the moment I was expressing that I was upset with any visible emotion, things had gone to far and everyone had to stop.

But it must have been before that too. I must have gotten the signal really early on that I could cry all I wanted and help wasn't coming, because from day one my most ingrained instinct when something went wrong, no matter how big and incomprehensible, has been "okay, so what do -I- do?"...

And I see it now with the way my mother responded to me as a teenager and how she responds to small needy things like animals. The moment they start to whine or pester her for something she acts really agitated and snaps or loses her temper really quickly.

And the stories she'd tell sometimes like she's proud of herself for figuring out how to manipulate us into "good behaviour" when we were "misbehaving"... and it was stuff like if I started crying too instead of helping to get my sister to stop, she's just throw herself on the floor and cry until we were both trying to comfort her... But it never seems to have occurred to her that this meant any time I expressed an unmet need, it was treated as bad behaviour that had to stop and never be addressed.

And when I was a teenager the moment it started to sound like I might tell her something was wrong she would interrupt me to say how I better not because it would "hurt her heart" or remind me of her bleeding ulcers or how she can't handle the stress. The few times as a teen I tried to tell her about anything going poorly in my life it became about managing her feelings about it and her telling me how I ought to have already handled it... So I learned to just not tell her anything.

And I think it was always like that. I had assumed it must just be how I'm hardwired because my sister never did anything except throw tantrums and expect someone to fix it for her, usually me, until she broke it so many times it couldn't be fixed again... Because she was allowed to.

I think, really, all babies start out knowing how to cry for their mothers, and some of us just learn that help won't come.

And before I stopped talking to her she'd ask me why I never told her anything about my life. She'd tell me how my sister tells her all about things all the time even when it's bad, like abusive boyfriends or doing meth or whatever, they talk about it... But I didn't know how to tell her that for my entire life, any time I have tried to tell her about myself or express that something wasn't right, she's told me to stop talking.

And then anytime I started expressing strong emotions as a teenager my step mother would accuse me of faking and punish me. Like even if I wasn't autistic to begin with I don't know how I was supposed to learn how to express emotions 'normally'.

And then my friends too. If I wasn't outwardly emotional they'd treat me like I couldn't possibly be serious about something or actually upset, and if I did show outward emotion, I was being dramatic or faking.

I am not the kind of person who can stand to sit in from of a mirror and practice making facial expressions properly to make sure I am doing it right without further developing imposter syndrome about my own emotions.

My entire life my job has been to not have needs of my own, to take care of everyone else's and to occupy myself, and it's been ingrained in me since literal infancy.

So surprise, surprise, I have ended up actually preferring to be alone, being entirely independent when I shouldn't even be able to manage it, physically speaking, and I spend all day quietly keeping myself occupied.

I don't know how else to be.

My brain grew in this way. They made sure of it.

[acourtofquestions]

🚨 SPOILERS🚨

Kingdom of Ash Chapter 50

Rowan's hands tightened on Aelin's shoulders as the words settled into her, hollow and cold.

"Maeve is a Valg queen?" he breathed.

Aelin said nothing. Couldn't find the words. Her power roiled. She didn't feel it.

Nesryn nodded solemnly. "Yes. The kharankui told us the entire history."

And so Nesryn did as well. Of how Maeve had somehow found a way into this world, fleeing or bored with her husband, Orcus. Erawan's elder brother. Of how Erawan, Orcus, and Mantyx had torn apart worlds to find her, Orcus's missing wife, and only halted here because the Fae had risen to challenge them. Fae led by Maeve, whom the Valg kings did not know or recognize, in the form she had taken.

The life she had crafted for herself. The minds of all the Fae who had existed that she had ripped into, convincing them that there had been three queens, not two. Including the minds of Mab and Mora, the two sister-queens who had ruled Doranelle. Including Brannon himself.

"The spiders claimed," Nesryn went on, "that even Brannon didn't know. Even now, in the Afterworld, he doesn't know. That was how deep Maeve's powers went into his mind, into all their minds. She made herself their true queen."

The words, the truth, pelted Aelin, one after another.

Elide's face was white as death. "But she fears the healers." A nod toward Yrene. "She keeps that owl, you said—an enslaved Fae healer-should the Valg ever discover her." For that was the other piece of it. The other thing Nesryn had revealed, Chaol and Yrene adding in their own accounts. The Valg were parasites. And Yrene could cure their human hosts of them. Had done so for Princess Duva. And might be able to do with so many others enslaved with rings or collars. But what had infested Duva ... A Valg princess.

Aelin leaned back into her chair, her head resting against the solid wall of Rowan's body.

His hands shook against her shoulders. Shook as he seemed to realize what, exactly, had ripped into his mind. Where Maeve's power had come from that allowed her to do so. Why she remained deathless and ageless, and had outlasted any other. Why Maeve's power was darkness.

"It is also why she fears fire," Sartaq said, jerking his chin to Aelin. "Why she fears you so."

And why she'd wanted to break her. To be just like that enslaved healer bound in owl form at her side.

"I thought—I managed to cut her once," Aelin said at last. That quiet, ancient darkness pushed in, dragging her down, down, down-" I saw her blood flow black. Then it changed to red." She blew out a breath, pulling out of the darkness, the silence that wanted to devour her whole. Made herself straighten. Peer at Fenrys.

"You said that her blood tasted ordinary to you when you swore the oath." The white wolf shifted back into his Fae body. His bronze skin was ashen, his dark eyes swimming with dread. "It did."

Rowan growled, "It didn't taste any different to me, either."

"A glamour-like the form she maintains," Gavriel mused.

Nesryn nodded. "From what the spiders said, it seems entirely possible that she would be able to convince you that her blood looked and tasted like Fae blood."

Fenrys made a sound like he was going to be sick. Aelin was inclined to do the same.

And from far away—a memory-that-was-not-a-memory stirred. Of summer nights spent in a forest glen, Maeve instructing her. Telling her a story about a queen who walked between worlds.

Who had not been content in the realm in which she'd been born, and had found a way to leave it, using the lost knowledge of ancient wayfarers. World-walkers.

Maeve had told her. Perhaps a skewed, biased tale, but she'd told her. Why? Why do it at all? Some way to win her-or to make her hesitate, should it ever come to this?

"But Maeve hates the Valg kings," Elide said, and even from the silent, drifting place to which Aelin had gone, she could see the razor-sharp mind churning behind Elide's eyes. "She's hidden for this long. Surely she wouldn't ally with them."

"She ran at the chance to get hold of a Valg collar," Fenrys said darkly. "Seemed convinced that she could control the prince inside it."

Not only through Maeve's power, but because she was a demon queen.

Aelin forced herself to take another breath. Another. Her fingers curled, gripping an invisible weapon.

Lorcan had not uttered a word. Had done nothing but stand there, pale and silent. As if he'd stopped being in his body, too.

"We don't know her plans," Nesryn said.

"The kharankui have not seen her for millennia, and only hear whisperings carried by lesser spiders. But they still worship her, and wait for her return."

Chaol met Aelin's stare, his gaze questioning.

Aelin said quietly, "I was Maeve's prisoner for two months."

Utter silence in the tent. Then she explained—all of it. Why she was not in Terrasen, who now fought there, where Dorian and Manon had gone.

Aelin swallowed as she finished, leaning into Rowan's touch. "Maeve wished me to reveal the location of the two Wyrdkeys. Wanted me to hand them over, but I managed to get them away before she took me. To Doranelle. She wanted to break me to her will. To use me to conquer the world, I thought. But it perhaps now seems she wanted to use me as a shield against the Valg, to guard her always." The words tumbled out, heavy and sharp. "I was her captive until nearly a month ago." She nodded toward her court. "When I got free, they found me again."

Silence fell again, her new companions at a loss. She didn't blame them.

Then Hasar hissed, "We'll make the bitch pay for that, too, won't we?"

Aelin met the princess's dark stare. "Yes, we will."

A Valg queen.

That's who had held his Fireheart. What sort of power had tried to break into her mind.

What power had broken into Rowan's mind.

All their minds, if she could glamour her blood to look and taste ordinary.

He felt the tension rising in Aelin, a raging storm that nearly hummed into his hands as he gripped her shoulders.

Yet her flames made no appearance. They hadn't shown so much as an ember these weeks, despite how hard they'd trained. Occasionally, he'd spy Goldryn's ruby gleaming while she held it, as if fire glowed in the heart of the stone. But nothing more. Not even when they'd tangled in their bed on the ship, when his teeth had found that mark on her neck.

Elide surveyed them all, their silence, and said to their new companions, "Perhaps we should determine a plan of action regarding tomorrow's battle." And give them time, later tonight, to sort through this colossal mess.

Chaol nodded. "We brought a trunk of books with us," he said to Aelin. "From the Torre. They're all full of Wyrdmarks." Aelin didn't so much as blink, but Chaol finished, "If we get through this battle, they're yours to peruse. In case there's anything in them that might help." Against Erawan, against Maeve, against his mate's terrible fate. Aelin just vaguely nodded.

So Rowan forced himself to shove away the shock and disgust and fear, and focus upon the plan ahead. Only Gavriel seemed able to do the same, Fenrys staying where he was, and Lorcan just staring and staring at nothing.

Aelin remained in her chair, simmering.

Roiling.

They planned it quickly and efficiently: they would return with Chaol and Yrene to the keep, to help with the fighting tomorrow. The khaganate royals would push from here, Nesryn and Prince Sartaq leading the ruks, and Princess Hasar commanding the foot soldiers and Darghan cavalry. A brilliantly trained, lethal group. Rowan had already marked the Darghan soldiers, with their fine horses and armor, their spears and crested helmets, while they'd strode for this tent, and breathed a sigh of relief at their skill. Perhaps the last sigh of relief he'd have in this war. Certainly if the khagan's forces hadn't yet decided where they would take this army afterward. He supposed it was fair-so many territories were now in Morath's path-but when this battle was over, he'd make damn sure they marched northward. To Terrasen.

But tomorrow-tomorrow they'd hammer Morath's legion against the keep walls, Chaol and Rowan leading the men from inside, picking off enemy soldiers.

Aelin didn't volunteer to do anything. Didn't indicate that she'd heard them.

And when they'd all deemed the plan sound, along with a contingency plan should it go awry, Nesryn only said, "We'll find you ruks to carry you back to the keep," before Aelin stormed into the frigid night, Rowan barely keeping up with her.

No embers trailed her. Mud did not hiss beneath her boots.

There was no fire at all. Not a spark.

As if Maeve had snuffed out that flame.

Made her fear it.

Hate it.

Aelin cut through the neatly organized tents, past horses and their armored riders, past foot soldiers around campfires, past the ruk riders and their mighty birds, who filled him with such awe he had no words for it. All the way to the eastern edge of the camp and the plains that stretched past, the space wide and hollow after the closeness of the army.

She didn't stop until she reached a stream they'd crossed only hours ago. It was nearly frozen over, but a stomp of her boot had the ice cracking. Breaking free to reveal dark water kissed with silvery starlight.

Then she fell to her knees and drank.

Drank and drank, cupping the water to her mouth. It had to be cold enough to burn, but she kept at it until she braced her hands on her knees and said, "I can't do this."

Rowan sank to a knee, the shield he'd kept around her while she stalked here sealing out the cold wind off the open plain.

"I-I can't—" She took a shuddering breath, and covered her face with her wet hands.

Gently, Rowan gripped her wrists and lowered them. "You do not face this alone."

Anguish and terror filled those beautiful eyes, and his chest tightened to the point of pain as she said, "It was a fool's shot against Erawan. But against him and Maeve? She gathered an army to her. Is likely bringing that army to Terrasen right now. And if Erawan summons his two brothers, if the other kings return—"

"He needs the two other keys to do that. He doesn't have them."

Her fingers curled, digging into her palms hard enough that the tang of her blood filled the air. "I should have gone after the keys. Right away. Not come here. Not done this."

"It is Dorian's task now, not yours. He will not fail at it."

"It is my task, and always has been—"

"We made the choice to come here, and we will stick to that decision," he snarled, not bothering to temper his tone. "If Maeve is indeed bringing her army to Terrasen, then it only confirms that we were right to come here. That we must convince the khagan's forces to go northward after this. It is the only chance we stand of succeeding."

Aelin ran her hands through her hair.

Streams of blood stained the gold. "I cannot win against them. Against a Valg king and queen." Her voice turned to a rasp. "They have already won."

"They have not." And though Rowan hated each word, he growled, "And you survived two months against Maeve with no magic to protect you. Two months of a Valg queen trying to break into your head, Aelin. To break you."

Aelin shook. "She did, though." Rowan waited for it. Aelin whispered, "I wanted to die by the end, before she ever threatened me with the collar. And even now, I feel like someone has ripped me from myself. Like I'm at the bottom of the sea, and who I am, who I was, is far up at the surface, and I will never get back there again."

He didn't know what to say, what to do other than to gently pull her fingers from her palms.

"Did you buy the swagger, the arrogance?" she demanded, voice breaking. "Did the others? Because I've been trying to. I've been trying like hell to convince myself that it's real, reminding myself I only need to pretend to be how I was just long enough."

Long enough to forge the Lock and die.

He said softly, "I know, Aelin." He hadn't bought the winks and smirks for a heartbeat.

Aelin let out a sob that cracked something in him. "I can't feel me-myself anymore. It's like she snuffed it out. Ripped me from it. She, and Cairn, and everything they did to me." She gulped down air, and Rowan wrapped her in his arms and pulled her onto his lap. "I am so tired," she wept. "I am so, so tired, Rowan."

"I know." He stroked her hair. "I know." It was all there really was to say.

Rowan held her until her weeping eased and she lay still, nestled against his chest.

"I don't know what to do," she whispered

"You fight," he said simply. "We fight. Until we can't anymore. We fight."

She sat up, but remained on his lap, staring into his face with a rawness that destroyed him.

Rowan laid a hand on her chest, right over that burning heart. "Fireheart."

A challenge and a summons.

She placed her hand atop his, warm despite the frigid night. As if that fire had not yet gone out entirely. But she only gazed up at the stars.

To the Lord of the North, standing watch.

"We fight," she breathed.

Aelin found Fenrys by a quiet fire, gazing into the crackling flames.

She sat on the log beside him, raw and open and trembling, but … the salt of her tears had washed away some of it. Steadied her. Rowan had steadied her, and still did, as he kept watch from the shadows beyond the fire.

Fenrys lifted his head, his eyes as hollow as she knew hers had been.

"Whenever you need to talk about it," she said, her voice still hoarse, "I'm here."

Fenrys nodded, his mouth a tight line. "Thank you."

The camp was readying for their departure, but Aelin scooted closer, and sat beside him in silence for long minutes.

Two healers, marked only by the white bands around their biceps, hurried past, arms full of bandages. Aelin tensed. Focused on her breathing.

Fenrys marked her line of sight. "They were horrified, you know," he said quietly. "Every time she brought them in to … fix you."

The two healers vanished around a tent.

Aelin flexed her fingers, shaking the lightness from them. "It didn't stop them from doing it."

"They didn't have a choice."

She met his dark stare. Fenrys's mouth tightened. "No one would have left you in those states. No one."

Broken and bloody and burned—

She gripped Goldryn's hilt. Helpless.

"They defied her in their own way," Fenrys went on. "Sometimes, she'd order them to bring you back to consciousness. Often, they claimed they couldn't, that you'd fallen too deeply into oblivion. But I knew—I think Maeve did, too— that they put you there. For as long as possible. To buy you time."

She swallowed. "Did she punish them?"

"I don't know. It was never the same healers." Maeve likely had. Had likely ripped their minds apart for their defiance.

Aelin's grip tightened on the sword at her side.

Helpless. She had been helpless. As so many in this city, in Terrasen, in this continent, were helpless. Goldryn's hilt warmed in her hand.

She wouldn't be that way again. For whatever time she had left.

Gavriel padded up beside Rowan, took one look at the queen and Fenrys, and murmured, "Not the news we needed to hear."

Rowan closed his eyes for a heartbeat. "No, it was not."

Gavriel settled a hand on Rowan's shoulder.

"It changes nothing, in some ways."

"How."

"We served her. She was ... not what Aelin is. What a queen should be. We knew that long before we knew the truth. If Maeve wants to use what she is against us, to ally with Morath, then it changes things. But the past is over. Done with, Rowan. Knowing Maeve is Valg or just a wretched person doesn't change what happened."

"Knowing a Valg queen wants to enslave my mate, and nearly did so, changes a great deal."

"But we know what Maeve fears, why she fears it," Gavriel countered, his tawny eyes bright. "Fire, and the healers. If Maeve comes with that army of hers, we are not defenseless." It was true. Rowan could have cursed himself for not thinking of it already. Another question formed, though. "Her army," Rowan said. "It's made up of Fae."

"So was her armada," Gavriel said warily.

Rowan ran a hand through his hair. "Will you be able to live with it-fighting our own people?" Killing them.

"Will you?" Gavriel countered.

Rowan didn't answer.

Gavriel asked after a moment, "Why didn't Aelin offer me the blood oath?"

The male hadn't asked these weeks. And Rowan wasn't sure why Gavriel inquired now, but he gave him the truth. "Because she won't do it until Aedion has taken the oath first. To offer it to you before him ... she wants Aedion to take it first."

"In case he doesn't wish me to be near his kingdom."

"So that Aedion knows she placed his needs before her own."

Gavriel bowed his head. "I would say yes, if she offered."

"I know." Rowan clapped his oldest friend on the back. "She knows, too."

The Lion gazed northward. "Do you think ... we haven't heard any news from Terrasen."

"If it had fallen, if Aedion had fallen, we would know. People here would know."

Gavriel rubbed at his chest. "We've been to war. He's been to war. Fought on battlefields as a child, gods be damned." Rage flickered over Gavriel's face. Not at what Aedion had done, but what he'd been made to do by fate and misfortune. What Gavriel had not been there to prevent. "But I still dread every day that passes and we hear nothing. Dread every messenger we see."

A terror Rowan had never known, different from his fear for his mate, his queen. The fear of a father for his child.

He didn't allow himself to look toward Aelin. To remember his dreams while hunting for her. The family he'd seen. The family they'd make together.

"We must convince the khaganate royals to march northward when this battle is over," Gavriel swore softly.

Rowan nodded. "If we can smash this army tomorrow, and convince the royals that Terrasen is the only course of action, then we could indeed be heading north soon. You might be fighting at Aedion's side by Yulemas."

Gavriel's hands clenched at his sides, tattoos spreading over his knuckles. "If he will allow me that honor."

Rowan would make Aedion allow it. But he only said, "Gather Elide and Lorcan. The ruks are almost ready to depart."

[gender-trash]

I would be very interested in hearing the museum design rant

by popular demand: Guy That Took One (1) Museum Studies Class Focused On Science Museums Rants About Art Museums. thank u for coming please have a seat

so. background. the concept of the "science museum" grew out of 1) the wunderkammer (cabinet of curiosities), also known as "hey check out all this weird cool shit i have", and 2) academic collections of natural history specimens (usually taxidermied) -- pre-photography these were super important for biological research (see also). early science museums usually grew out of university collections or bequests of some guy's Weird Shit Collection or both, and were focused on utility to researchers rather than educational value to the layperson (picture a room just, full of taxidermy birds with little labels on them and not a lot of curation outside that). eventually i guess they figured they could make more on admission by aiming for a mass audience? or maybe it was the cultural influence of all the world's fairs and shit (many of which also caused science museums to exist), which were aimed at a mass audience. or maybe it was because the research function became much more divorced from the museum function over time. i dunno. ANYWAY, science and technology museums nowadays have basically zero research function; the exhibits are designed more or less solely for educating the layperson (and very frequently the layperson is assumed to be a child, which does honestly irritate me, as an adult who likes to go to science museums). the collections are still there in case someone does need some DNA from one of the preserved bird skins, but items from the collections that are exhibited typically exist in service of the exhibit's conceptual message, rather than the other way around.

meanwhile at art museums they kind of haven't moved on from the "here is my pile of weird shit" paradigm, except it's "here is my pile of Fine Art". as far as i can tell, the thing that curators (and donors!) care about above all is The Collection. what artists are represented in The Collection? rich fucks derive personal prestige from donating their shit to The Collection. in big art museums usually something like 3-5% of the collection is ever on exhibit -- and sometimes they rotate stuff from the vault in and out, but let's be real, only a fraction of an art museum's square footage is temporary exhibits. they're not going to take the scream off display when it's like the only reason anyone who's not a giant nerd ever visits the norwegian national museum of art. most of the stuff in the vault just sits in the vault forever. like -- art museum curators, my dudes, do you think the general public gives a SINGLE FUCK what's in The Collection that isn't on display? no!! but i guarantee you it will never occur, ever, to an art museum curator that they could print-to-scale high-res images of artworks that are NOT in The Collection in order to contextualize the art in an exhibit, because items that are not in The Collection functionally do not exist to them. (and of course there's the deaccessioning discourse -- tumblr collectively has some level of awareness that repatriation is A Whole Kettle of Worms but even just garden-variety selling off parts of The Collection is a huge hairy fucking deal. check out deaccessioning and its discontents; it's a banger read if you're into This Kind Of Thing.)

with the contents of The Collection foregrounded like this, what you wind up with is art museum exhibits where the exhibit's message is kind of downstream of what shit you've got in the collection. often the message is just "here is some art from [century] [location]", or, if someone felt like doing a little exhibit design one fine morning, "here is some art from [century] [location] which is interesting for [reason]". the displays are SOOOOO bad by science museum standards -- if you're lucky you get a little explanatory placard in tiny font relating the art to an art movement or to its historical context or to the artist's career. if you're unlucky you get artist name, date, and medium. fucker most of the people who visit your museum know Jack Shit about art history why are you doing them dirty like this

(if you don't get it you're just not Cultured enough. fuck you, we're the art museum!)

i think i've talked about this before on this blog but the best-exhibited art exhibit i've ever been to was actually at the boston museum of science, in this traveling leonardo da vinci exhibit where they'd done a bunch of historical reconstructions of inventions out of his notebooks, and that was the main Thing, but also they had a whole little exhibit devoted to the mona lisa. obviously they didn't even have the real fucking mona lisa, but they went into a lot of detail on like -- here's some X-ray and UV photos of it, and here's how art experts interpret them. here's a (photo of a) contemporary study of the finished painting, which we've cleaned the yellowed varnish off of, so you can see what the colors looked like before the varnish yellowed. here's why we can't clean the varnish off the actual painting (da vinci used multiple varnish layers and thinned paints to translucency with varnish to create the illusion of depth, which means we now can't remove the yellowed varnish without stripping paint).

even if you don't go into that level of depth about every painting (and how could you? there absolutely wouldn't be space), you could at least talk a little about, like, pigment availability -- pigment availability is an INCREDIBLY useful lens for looking at historical paintings and, unbelievably, never once have i seen an art museum exhibit discuss it (and i've been to a lot of art museums). you know how medieval european religious paintings often have funky skin tones? THEY HADN'T INVENTED CADMIUM PIGMENTS YET. for red pigments you had like... red ochre (a muted earth-based pigment, like all ochres and umbers), vermilion (ESPENSIVE), alizarin crimson (aka madder -- this is one of my favorite reds, but it's cool-toned and NOT good for mixing most skintones), carmine/cochineal (ALSO ESPENSIVE, and purple-ish so you wouldn't want to use it for skintones anyway), red lead/minium (cheaper than vermilion), indian red/various other iron oxide reds, and apparently fucking realgar? sure. whatever. what the hell was i talking about.

oh yeah -- anyway, i'd kill for an art exhibit that's just, like, one or two oil paintings from each century for six centuries, with sample palettes of the pigments they used. but no! if an art museum curator has to put in any level of effort beyond writing up a little placard and maybe a room-level text block, they'll literally keel over and die. dude, every piece of art was made in a material context for a social purpose! it's completely deranged to divorce it from its material context and only mention the social purpose insofar as it matters to art history the field. for god's sake half the time the placard doesn't even tell you if the thing was a commission or not. there's a lot to be said about edo period woodblock prints and mass culture driven by the growing merchant class! the met has a fuckton of edo period prints; they could get a hell of an exhibit out of that!

or, tying back to an earlier thread -- the detroit institute of arts has got a solid like eight picasso paintings. when i went, they were kind of just... hanging out in a room. fuck it, let's make this an exhibit! picasso's an artist who pretty famously had Periods, right? why don't you group the paintings by period, and if you've only got one or two (or even zero!) from a particular period, pad it out with some decent life-size prints so i can compare them and get a better sense for the overarching similarities? and then arrange them all in a timeline, with little summaries of what each Period was ~about~? that'd teach me a hell of a lot more about picasso -- but you'd have to admit you don't have Every Cool Painting Ever in The Collection, which is illegalé.

also thinking about the mit museum temporary exhibit i saw briefly (sorry, i was only there for like 10 minutes because i arrived early for a meeting and didn't get a chance to go through it super thoroughly) of a bunch of ship technical drawings from the Hart nautical collection. if you handed this shit to an art museum curator they'd just stick it on the wall and tell you to stand around and look at it until you Understood. so anyway the mit museum had this enormous room-sized diorama of various hull shapes and how they sat in the water and their benefits and drawbacks, placed below the relevant technical drawings.

tbh i think the main problem is that art museum people and science museum people are completely different sets of people, trained in completely different curatorial traditions. it would not occur to an art museum curator to do anything like this because they're probably from the ~art world~ -- maybe they have experience working at an art gallery, or working as an art buyer for a rich collector, neither of which is in any way pedagogical. nobody thinks an exhibit of historical clothing should work like a clothing store but it's fine when it's art, i guess?

also the experience of going to an art museum is pretty user-hostile, i have to say. there's never enough benches, and if you want a backrest, fuck you. fuck you if going up stairs is painful; use our shitty elevator in the corner that we begrudgingly have for wheelchair accessibility, if you can find it. fuck you if you can't see very well, and need to be closer to the art. fuck you if you need to hydrate or eat food regularly; go to our stupid little overpriced cafeteria, and fuck you if we don't actually sell any food you can eat. (obviously you don't want someone accidentally spilling a smoothie on the art, but there's no reason you couldn't provide little Safe For Eating Rooms where people could just duck in and monch a protein bar, except that then you couldn't sell them a $30 salad at the cafe.) fuck you if you're overwhelmed by noise in echoing rooms with hard surfaces and a lot of people in them. fuck you if you are TOO SHORT and so our overhead illumination generates BRIGHT REFLECTIONS ON THE SHINY VARNISH. we're the art museum! we don't give a shit!!!

[paeinovis]

Ouf on one hand prozac murdered me dead but on the other stimulants make my heart explode so hopefully ndri helps ? The thing is it def gives me headaches and a bit of anxiety but it's only been one week so far n it's one that takes getting used to but like. Hey I drew tonight for the first time in Ever and I finally vacuumed a little bit and I've been meaning to do that for a while so ???

[leeechin]

ཊ˃̵ ⑅ ཉ little lamb [sim jaeyun] 𓈒ིུ𖥨᩠ׄ݁

⋆ summary: you meet a man in the middle of the night, so charming and so alluring.. but something about this man seems so.. dangerous. ━╋ pairing: killer!jake x fem!reader. (horror au)

⌗ warnings: reader is very naive, jake is a murderer in this omg. blood, weapons such as a knife & crow bar, etc but not used on reader. horror and thriller au please read with caution. mdni. smut. pwp, inexperienced reader, dom!jake, size kink bcuz i can’t not write bigdick!jake agenda, dark jokes/humor (?), unprotected sex, oral (f&m rec), fingering, multiple positions (2 smut scenes lol), dacryphillia, car sex, motel room sex, rough sex. yandere jake (?), mention of god once, mentions of murder with descriptions.

word count: 6.3k

⪩⪨ lee’s note: i’ve never written something like this before so pls bare with me if it’s bad 😣 enjoy the halloween special :D ur thoughts are appreciated as always <3

★ find my other works here + post queue

“Don’t go wandering ‘round a time like this.” The police officer warns you. “I’d be very devastated to see another report of another young individual being murdered in the streets this late at night.” There had been a recent report of a murder happening to a student your age in town. Around a time like this, a lot of crimes occurred, and you couldn’t avoid it since it was local.. near you.

You insisted to your friends that you were ‘okay’ to get home by yourself after the gathering you had at a nearby club. Luckily, that officer caught you at the right time to warn you and escort you back home safely.

“I hope I don’t see you out this late when I’m patrollin’ the area again.” The officer speaks to you once at the entrance of your apartment. The area you lived in wasn’t too bad, with a locked and secured apartment building. But there were always crimes that occurred; robberies, stabbings, theft, etc. Murder was not a common thing on your street. Bidding you a good bye, you enter the code to get inside the apartment building.

As the elevator door opens, you lock eyes with a man holding a big black duffle bag, walking out of the building in a rush. He was beautiful. The way that man stood with confidence radiating all over his body, and that small smirk he threw at you when you scanned his figure. But the left side of his cheek had a scratch and mark with what is now dried blood. You wanted to know more about this man. You should’ve found his presence suspicious, but you dazedly ignored it. Your apartment was small where everybody on every floor level knew each other, and yet you’ve never seen this man before. That was a warning itself you once again ignored.

Following his path, but slowly, you see him walk into a dimly lighted alley. Seeing a slightly dented, dull colored white car, the man opens the trunk as you see this all unwinding as you get closer. You walk your steps lightly with curiosity plastered all over your face. He opens the trunk, and an item falls out of his bag, a blood covered silver metal crow bar. Your eyes widen, you can’t move. Or you don’t want to. You find yourself standing a good arms reach behind the man, your conscious screaming at you to ‘run run run!’ but all of that is ignored when the man turns to you, another smirk tugging on his face when he sees it’s you. “You know.. you shouldn’t be out here this late doll, especially when you’re wearing this cute little outfit with such a pretty face.” He speaks.

You don’t respond, instead your gaze is still fixed on the crow bar that was in his hand. He finds it amusing, by now, a normal person would’ve ran away. But you stand there, completely still. He doesn’t see fear in your eyes. You were entranced by him, a few seconds of eye contact and here you were; a dimly lighted alley with who knows what could happen to you, many things.

He decides to speak again, his eyes not hiding his predatory gaze and scan of your figure, deliberately checking you out.

“What brings your pretty face here this late of a night—?” Dropping the crow bar back into his duffle bag, zipping it up and closing his trunk. He wipes the blood on his face with the back of his hand, leaning against his trunk, hands going in the pocket of his jacket as he waits for you speak up with an answer. His smirk never leaves his face, chewing on a piece of mint gum obnoxiously.

“I don’t know.” You voice soft, eyes looking down at his worn out shoes. The man lets out a loud laugh, walking towards you, hands still in his pocket, as taller figure leans over you, looking at you as if he was gonna eat you up alive. “You shouldn’t be wandering around here so late at night. Any predator would’ve gotten you as their prey by now, little lamb.” You jump at his words a bit, riiight. You now remember the warning that cop gave to you, but you can’t help but say what comes out your mouth. “You don’t happen to be a murderer.. Do you—?"

Another loud laugh leaves the man’s mouth. No way you really just asked him a question like that. The answer was obviously yes. But he wouldn’t say that out loud, “Those were just props, doll. You would’ve been dead by now if I was a murderer.” You let out a sigh of relief. It was so sad to him at how easily you can believe lies.

No response from you once again, “The name’s Sim Jaeyun. Jake or Jaeyun, whatever you want pretty.” He winks at you, one hand moving out of his pocket, you don’t flinch or feel fear still. Allowing him to move strands of your hair behind your ear. You easily melt into the touch of this stranger man’s hand. “Jaeyun.” You repeat, the irises in his eyes darken at the way you said his name, hand moving to hold the side of your cheek.

“I’m Y/n.”, Introducing yourself, his hand moving away from you and going back in his pocket. Jaeyun wasn’t going to kill you.. He wanted you. “And what are you still doing here, Y/n?” Jaeyun’s voice deep and filled with fake curiosity. You don’t know what had gotten into you, you felt bold, you wanted to be out there more. “I want to get to know you..” Straightening yourself up, fixing your skirt that was slightly rising up. “Get to know me? Huh. How interesting..” Jaeyun chuckles again.

“Well I feel the same way too, sweetheart.” He adds on. You smile, so unknowing of all the things this man has done prior to now. “Why don’t I take you for a little drive —? I have a spot I’ve never shown anybody before.”

The word ‘No’ should’ve came out of your lips, but instead you quickly nodded, taking in his offer of being in his passengers seat.

“Is this spot in the middle of a forest..” Your voice fades as you notice how for the past five minutes, Jaeyun is driving down a dark path with nothing but trees. You thought you must’ve been the funniest person in the world, because with almost anything you said to Jaeyun, he would laugh at you. But it wasn’t that, it was the fact you were so gullible. “Trust me darlin’. We’re almost there.” He reassured you, a hand resting on your thigh.

Jaeyun wasn’t going to harm you. And that was a hidden promise he kept in his head to himself. He couldn’t stand the thought of there being a single scratch on you.

“So what is this spot, Jaeyun—?” Your eyes light up at the view of a huge field of grass by a small lake. Getting out of the passengers seat, you grab Jaeyun’s hand, walking along the grass, you were practically skipping. “This place is somewhere I get all of my things done.” He replies to you. You fidget with the bottom hem of your skirt as you’re reminded of his black duffel bag and the crow bar with blood on it. It was as if he could read your mind, “Nothing’s bad going to happen to you , Y/n.” He brushes off your doubt, the way your name effortlessly rolled out of his lips made you feel weak in the knees.

He was right, you both just simply sat in the blades of grass that went on for miles, talking about yourselves, getting to know each other; “I’ve always wanted to someone this special place of mine.” Jaeyun’s face was happy with content, now that what he said has finally happening, relaxing his back flat on the grass.

Admiring the view of the lake, and the man himself, “It’s such a beautiful place here, Jaeyun..” There goes your soft voice again, and your eyes of adoration. Jaeyun felt like he could become a mad man by any minute now, he felt the desire to keep you close to him, and he wasn’t planning on letting you go anytime soon.

That’s how you found yourself straddling his lap on the drivers’ seat of his car. His lips devouring yours, claiming you as his. You whine against his lips when you feel one of his hands move down to cup at your clothed heat. You hear him let out a deep chuckle as he pulls his lips away, leaving you to feel confused.

Realization hits you like a truck. You were about to sleep with a man you barely know. Despite feeling a deep connection and attachment to Jaeyun, you don’t fully know who he is at all.. Or what he does, despite talking for a couple hours by on the field of grass. “Something on your mind?” Jaeyun hums, his lips trailing along the soft skin of your neck, harshly sucking and marking dark purples spots that can be seen by others.

“Wait Jaeyun—!” You pull yourself away from him. “Hm?” — “What if someone sees us?” Hesitation in your voice at the idea of that. It’s not like you a virgin by any means.. You just haven’t had sex many times. And especially not at a place where people could see you, even if Jaeyun’s windows were tinted. “Doll. Only murderers would be at a spot like this, late at night. But no one’s here. And it’s just you and me.” Jaeyun coos.

You felt weirdly comforted by his words. Easing into his touch, placing your lips over his, it’s much rougher this time, his tongue dances his way into your mouth, it was so sloppy as the smacking sounds filled Jaeyun’s car. “Want more Jaeyun..” You pant, the sound of Jaeyun ripping your panties apart filling your ears. Gasping as your arms wrap around his neck, falling forward slightly as he handles you to where he wants.

“You want me to show you what’s in my disgusting, twisted mind? To ruin you and keep you to myself? Because baby, once I do all that, you can’t leave me.” He warns you, allowing you to rethink your doubts. But you want it all. You don’t care that you’ve met this man a few hours ago, an unknown man in your highly secured apartment, and how it’s 2:37 am in the middle of the night. You wanted to do something for yourself for once, even if deep down, you knew there had to be more to Jaeyun, he doesn’t seem anything like a saint.

You nod rapidly, “Give it all to me Jaeyun. Show me your world.” Your response makes Jaeyun let out a deep laugh at how easy it was to convince you with his words. But, he wasn’t lying in anything he said, Jaeyun was going to make sure you stay by his side, forever. You were easy to read, you were the type of girl that had loyalty painted all over her face. You needed someone to lead you in life, Jaeyun was the perfect person to do that for you. He wouldn’t lay a single hand on you.

“Have you done something like this before?” Jaeyun raises an eyebrow at you, his cold digits tracing along your folds, collecting your wetness making your breath hitch at the contact. “Only a few times.. and not anywhere outside either.” You admit, eyes shying away from his. Jaeyun’s free hand pulls up your chin to look at him again, “Was he good—?” Jaeyun’s eyes darken at the thought of there being another man before him.

“Mmph—! No! Not really—!” You shriek to reply when you feel one of his fingers plunge into your tight cunt, the warmness of your gummy walls clamping around his singular digit making the cold leave his skin. “Can barely take one finger..” He comments, fingers finding a pace comfortable for you. He adds a second finger in, “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll show you what it feels like to be fucked reaaaal good you’ll forget about all of the other times and only remember me.” Emphasizing that one word.

“S’ so good Jaeyun!” You cry out, nails digging into his shirt covered shoulders, the pain giving pleasure to him. You feel him quicken his pace, his thick fingers dragging along your tight warm walls, already having your head spinning and seeing the clouds. “Taking it like such a good girl..” He smiles, feeling his bulge strain through the tight confinements of his boxers and jeans at the sounds that left your lips. You tighten around his digits impossibly tighter when his thumb finds its way to rub at your clit, a sensation you’ve never really experienced before, and you surely want to feel this again.

“Feels good huh—?” Jaeyun asks, a smirk ghosting over his face at the sight of tears rolling down your face. Nothing but pure pleasure coursing through your entire body, and he hasn’t even stuck his dick into you yet. “You’ll always be mine.” Possessiveness filling his tone as he scissors and twists his digits, a whimper leaving your lips at the feeling of pure ecstasy, burying your face into the crook of Jaeyun’s neck to conceal your sounds.

“Don’t hide those pretty sounds from me.” He growls, the free hand that placed on your waist moving to tug at your hair, pulling your face away from his neck. “M’ close Jaeyun please—!” You plead, rolling your hips slightly, feeling his fingertips hit right at that one spot so good.

“Let go for me, darlin’. Show me how good I make you feel.” That was a demand that you didn’t mind to follow; body shaking slightly as you calm from the intensity of your orgasm; body flopping against Jaeyun’s chest. Tapping the side of your exposed thigh, pulling your skirt up; “Don’t get all tired on me doll. I’m not done with you yet.” You sit up, pulling your shirt over your head to leave you only in your bra, tits spilling out of the cups.

Jaeyun curses at the sight, hand moving to the back of your bra, unhooking it effortlessly and tossing it to the passenger seat. “So fuckin’ perfect.” He comments, hands moving to fondle with your sensitive tits, thumbs rubbing roughly over the erected nubs, making you few new sensations, but it wasn’t enough. You wanted the real thing, the million dollar prize, his cock inside you.

It was as if he read your mind, his hands leave your tits, making you let out a needy whine with no more contact on your body. Jaeyun tsks at your desperation, hands unbuckling his belt and pulling down his boxers along his pants. You freeze in place, thick cock shiny in glory in the poorly dim lighted car. Pink mushroom tip throbbing angrily, precum oozing out and down along his length.

Jaeyun just really can’t help but laugh at you. He was a predator engrossed into his prey, the way your eyes had a slight sparkle from the moment you locked eyes with him, to now; Eyes blinking nervously at the sheer size of him. “You can take me, can’t you, doll—?” Jaeyun asks, noticing the subtle shift of your gaze, as you slowly nod.

He moves his arms to rest behind his head, leaning back on the drivers seat, giving you a glance to make a move. “Jaeyun..” — “What’s on your mind doll—?” You take a deep breath, hands resting on his chest, “I’ve never really done this..” You feel embarrassed again, but your eyes don’t leave Jaeyun’s this time. “I know, baby. I just wanted to see if you could do it yourself.” “Can’t do it without your help, Jaeyun.” You frown, hand moving down to grip at his thick length, your hand not being able to fully wrap around it. Jaeyun hisses at the contact. Moving his hands to move your loose strands of hair behind your ear, he places a soft kiss on your forehead, brushing the side of your face. “I got you, doll.”

Holding your hips to hover your sopping cunt directly over his mushroom tip, your hands holding onto his shoulders for dear life. His placement on your hips allows him to circle your entrance over his tip, collecting your wetness with dripping along his thick length. You look down, not sure if you’re gonna be actually able to take it.

“Oh shiiit—! You’re still so much fuckin’ tighter than what I thought.” A long groan leaves Jaeyun’s mouth as he slowly pumps his cock into you, you feel every ridge and vein rubbing against your silky walls, bottoming out eventually. Fresh batches of tears cloud your vision as you’ve never felt anything this big stuffed into you, and Jaeyun was definitely bigger than that ex of yours that went down on you in the past. “S’ so big.” You whimper out, burying your face into Jaeyun’s neck and moaning against his soft skin. You could feel his tip prodding so deep inside you along with the slow strokes he gave you.

The first few thrusts he gave you were soft and tender, but Jaeyun reminded himself that he wanted to ruin you, to show you what it’s like to actually feel good from him only. “Oh goddd—!” You moan out when Jaeyun thrusts his hips up harsher, feeling him in your stomach as a small bulge is poking through your gentle skin.

“I’m far from being god, doll.” Jaeyun smirks, knowing he could quite literally be the devil. “Scream my name. Who’s the one making you feel like this.” He grins at your disheveled figure, desperately holding onto his shoulders as if you’re afraid to crumble and break apart. You’ve never felt like this before, his hips pistoning in and out of you at such a animalistic pace, you’re not sure if you could last longer, and you didn’t want to embarrass yourself by cumming too quickly. Screams of you saying Jaeyun’s name rings in his ear, he is overly joyed with your state.

He handles you like a rag doll. Hands on your hips, pulling you and down along his thick length, a white ring forming on his cock as you cream and convulse around him, feeling your orgasm approaching soon. “You close, doll—?” He asks, teeth nipping one of your ears. A mantra of yes’ leaving your mouth along with your heavy pants as you pathetically attempt to move your hips to meet his movements. The sound of your soft shrieks along with Jaeyun’s harsh grunts filled the car.

His movements not stopping or changing as you allow the coil in your stomach to snap, coating his cock in your creamy white essence, sobs leaving your mouth as you ride out your orgasm.

“Hold it out a little longer f’me doll.” You dive headfirst into overstimulation, Jaeyun continuously bucking his hips up to chase his own orgasm, hips stilling as he shoots thick strings of his cum deep into you. Resting his forehead over yours as you both take a moment to catch your breath. “Did so good for me.” Jaeyun sighs, pulling you off of him, leaving you now empty.

Jaeyun helps you put your clothes back on, but you have no panties. You frown, feeling his cum drip down your thighs. “Are you on the pill—?” You nod yes. Jaeyun sighs in relief, he couldn’t hold himself back today, pulling you back in for a kiss, a string of saliva connecting to the two of you when he pulls away.

“Jaeyun. How am I going to go back to my apartment with no panties..” You did not want the other residents to see Jaeyun’s seed drooling down your legs.

“You just keep your legs closed.” He laughs, spinning the ruined piece of article around his finger.

A week has gone by. There’s a pattern you start to notice. You only saw Jaeyun as soon at it hits dark, the familiar car parking at the alley across your apartment building. You never see him during the daytime.. And you still don’t know a lot about him. You’re drawn to him like a magnet, your friends don’t understand you at all.

“It sounds suspicious Y/n, I don’t know. You only see him at night?” Belle tells you, sipping her drink. You and your small circle of friends constantly ignored the warnings on the news for young adults to avoid roaming the streets past 8:00pm. All of your figured since there were a couple guys in the group, you guys would be safe.

“You don’t understand.” That’s what you say everytime any of your friends would comment on whenever you talked about Jaeyun to them. You felt frustrated, but they were only looking out for you, and you didn’t realize that. “We care about you, Y/n. But, it’s just the fact you’ve never seen this man in broad daylight..” Sungchan says, carefully picking his choice of words.

You guys were wrapping up this gathering to go home. Julie suggests Sungchan to walk you home as there had been an increase of stabbing reports happening around your street, double of the usual numbers. You accept the offer, since after all, Sungchan was only a friend to you..

“Are you sure you don’t need me to go up with you..?” Sungchan double checks, there are no other people around the area, and the cops are making their rounds at the neighboring streets. You nod, because you knew that Jaeyun would be here around this time and he would be the one protecting you incase anything happened.

“Alright then.” Sungchan waves a goodbye, hands in his pockets as he walks across. You turn, away, pressing the security code to enter the building.

What was not known is that Jaeyun is watching from afar, his blood boiled to see another man so close to you. He felt a primitive instinct to do something.

Your ears ring when you hear a familiar shout so loud, as if that person was pleading for help, you’re quick to turn, the security code to the apartment only having half of the numbers entered. Your hand flies to cover your mouth in shock at the sight across you; watching your own friend slowly fall to the ground, a knife lodged straight into his heart, pushing through his chest.

Whoever wanted to kill him, was quick to do it. Because there were no traits, and Sungchan couldn’t have been the one to stab himself. But Jaeyun happened to walk out, and Jaeyun just happened to be taking off black latex gloves and a mask and scanning the surroundings around him, not even amused at the fact there was a now dead body near his feet. Jaeyun simply just brushes it off and grins widely when he sees you across the alley. It was clearly also him who did that to Sungchan, and possibly Mr. Han on the fourth level, who had been actively trying to pursue you. It wasn’t a coincidence.

Tears flowed past your eyes as you froze. You were nonverbal as you simply started to sob into the killer’s arm. And you still weren’t convinced that Jaeyun did it, though the facts were so obvious. “Shhhh. Luckily I came here just in time to be here for you, doll.”

“He just— He— What if he walked up with me..” You cried, tearing soaking onto Jaeyun’s shirt. “You can’t control what happens to people, doll. I’m lucky that nothing happened to you.” Jaeyun responds, a smirk creeping up inside of his head knowing that he has you wrapped around his finger.

“Why are we going out of town—?” You ask Jaeyun, looking out of the windows of his car a couple hours later. You packed a mini suitcase with some clothes as Jaeyun instructed, telling you he wanted to take you to a place to spend some ‘quality time’ for the weekend.

It should’ve been alarming to you that you guys were practically in the middle of nowhere. “Doesn’t it feel so suffocating to be in such a busy city, surrounded by so many people sometimes?” His hand that was resting on the top of your thighs dragging over. It was pitch black, the headlights of his car being the only thing lighting up the road. “It’s just.. I only see you when it’s late at night. How come you never come to see me during the daytime?” Jaeyun sighs, speeding up the car a bit, jaw clenching tightly. You notice the way his jaw loosens once he turns around to glance at you adoringly.

“I’m a busy man, doll. But I always make time for you, don’t I?” Lies continue to pour out of his mouth, yet you never caught onto any of them, simply abiding anything he initiates without questioning.

There’s a radio in the run down motel room. The building is so outdated, it’s quite baffling how such a beat down place is still running. You don’t mind how shabby it is.

'Unsolved Murders in Seoul that are believed to be connected to each other-' Jaeyun shuts off the radio.

“That’s ridiculous.” He laughs, walking towards your figure that was standing where the radio was playing. “You’re so pretty.” Jaeyun mumbles, watching as tears pulled at your eyes, the radio reminding you of how you witnessed your friend slowly dying, and you did nothing.

The image still played in your head, how the blood on his wound oozed out, his weak pleas for help. And all you did was stood there frozen until you saw Jaeyun.

“Still thinking about earlier?” Jaeyun asks, fingers swiping the tears that poured down your cheeks. He was fake sympathizing with you, he didn’t actually care that you lost one of your closest friends, because he was the one that did it, and you’re blatantly choosing right now, to ignore all of the obvious keys.

“What if instead, I called for help? He probably would still be alive right now. And that’s all my fault. ” You stammer, body jumping as you felt Jaeyun’s large hands roam around your body, grasping at your breast through the thin material of his oversized t-shirt you were going to wear to bed, eventually pulling it off your body. “It would’ve been you dead instead. And I wouldn’t want it to be that way. I love you.”

Love? You’ve barely known Jaeyun for a good two to three weeks and yet you feel your heart swirl at the use of that word. You were sure you felt the same way he did. He held a possessive nature you couldn’t quite get a grasp on, but he gave you what you wanted. You were weak to his actions, there was no way he wasn’t the one who killed Sungchan, or was at least suspicious.

“I love you too..” You whispered, lower lip get caught between your teeth when Jaeyun places his lips over the soft skin of your neck, arms wrapping around your waist from behind. “Let me make you feel better. Make you forget all that guilt you have in your head.” He mumbles.

Turning you around, you stand on your tip-toes to place your lips over his, Jaeyun hungrily gaining control and devouring your lips, tongue licking up into your mouth, tangling along with your tongue. You whine against his lips feeling him bite your lower lip, not hard enough to draw blood, but it was rough enough for a reaction.

“So needy.” He laughs, watching the way your hands traveled under his shirt, attempting to pull it off over his head. He pushes your shoulder down, indicating what he wants you to do. You feel so tainted at how quick you were to sink to your knees, eyes looking up awaiting.

He had the eyes of a killer, how his eyes turned so dark when he had someone in the control of his hands. “What are you waiting for? It’s not gonna get sucked by itself.” Pulling down his boxers, his hardened cock springs out, tip pink and leaking with arousal. He watched amused as your eyes trailed to his, then back to his large veiny cock. Carefully placing your soft lips to envelop the thick mushroom tip, nasty sucking sounds filling the room as you slowly push your head forward to take in more of him, choking when you feel his tip hit the back of your throat when your a little over halfway. Loud groans leave Jaeyun’s mouth, not hiding the pleasure from you.

“Just like that shit. Let me fuck that cute mouth of yours huh?” You whine around him, nodding in agreement. You were being used like a toy, Jaeyun’s hands placed on both sides of you face as he pushed his hips forward, chasing for his own pleasure and finding satisfaction in the way you just took anything he gave you.

“God I love how nasty you’ve become for me.” He laughs, pulling out briefly to glance at your ruined state. Your eyes red, full of tears. And one of your bra straps falling off your shoulders, along with your hair all messy from Jaeyun’s grip earlier. “Please Yunnie.” You plead, hands pawing his thighs for him to do something about your own arousal that was leaking through your panties.

The way that nickname flew out of your mouth and into his head made Jaeyun a possessed man, gesturing for you to open up your mouth again, you whine but obey. “Don’t worry, doll. I’ll give you everything you want after you let me fill up that little mouth of yours.” Slapping his heavy cock on your tongue before thrusting back deep into it, throwing his head back at the warmth of your mouth, and how you sucked his base perfectly.

“I’m gonna cum, fuckkk. Such a good girl.” Jaeyun praises, hips battering sloppily as you feel him twitch in your mouth, filling your throat deep with his release, his cum spilling out the sides of your mouth, Jaeyun brings his thumb to swipe at the cum spilling out the sides of your lips, pushing his thumb in for you to suck. Opening your mouth afterwards to show him you swallowed every drop he gave you. A smile of approval on Jaeyun’s face.

Hovering above you on the bed, your neck is littered in dark purple bruises, soft sighs of content leaving your lips when you feel your breast being freed from the confines of your bra, panties peeling off quickly from Jaeyun’s hand as he kneels to be eye level with your dripping cunt. “Please Jae..” You whimper, fingers lacing through his dark brown hair strands, massaging his head slightly as your hooded eyes looking below your spread legs. You didn’t wait for too long when you feel him lick a fat stripe from your entrance to your clit.

“mmmh—!” You mewl out, nails digging into Jaeyun’s head at your head throws back against the bed’s pillows. Your sounds along with the nastiness of Jaeyun’s tongue darting around your dripping cunt, almost burying his face against it, groaning at your sweet taste as he pushes his tongue past your entrance, the warmness of your walls wrapping around his tongue.

His groaning against your cunt sends vibrations and pleasure travelling all over your body, eyes closing as you try to contain your sounds with the thin walls of the run down motel, feeling Jaeyun’s tongue explore every part of your lower half. Your legs start to clamp around his head tightly, feeling how he held the bottom your thighs to keep your legs spread for him, all exposed.

It was as if he was a starved man, devouring you as if it was his last meal, relishing in your wails and cries of the sensations of his tongue along with the pleasurable pain of your nails digging into his head. You were close, and Jaeyun knew that, bye the way your thighs started to slightly shake around his head, the way your fingers tugged chunks of his hair as you tried to ground yourself as your body gives out, finishing all over his lower face.

Your face tints a soft shade of pink as Jaeyun rises up from his eye level position, your release painted all over his face, watching how he used his backhand to wipe it off and lick it, moaning at your sweet taste.

“You can take more of me right?” He asks as he peels off his remaining clothes, looking at the way you rapidly nodded your head, strings of pleas leaving your lips to feel him on you again. A small place is placed on your lips, tasting yourself against your tongue.

You feel yourself being flipped onto your front, the cold sheets sending shivers over your body as Jaeyun handles you to the position he wants, back arching and presenting your continuously dripping cunt, hole clenching around nothing as you feel his hands travel around your lower half, hands squeezing at the soft flesh of your ass, aligning himself to your entrance and pushing in roughly and fast. “Shiiit. Still so tight.” Jaeyun hisses, allowing you no time to adjust, already setting a rough pace that had him lodged in you deep.

“Jaeyun—! Slower!” You moan, the pleasure of his thick cock already making you feel another orgasm approaching, not wanting to pathetically cum too quickly. Feeling him push against the back of your head into the pillows, not listening to you as his pace fastens, tip hitting your cervix repeatedly as all you could is just lay and take it all.

“You’re enjoying this a little too much.” Jaeyun teases, feeling the way your walls clamped around his thickness with each stroke of his harsh thrusts, wet sounds of his cock repeatedly sliding in and out of you filling the room. Your push your own face harder into the pillows, trying to contain your sounds as Jaeyun’s relentless pace didn’t stop, even as you finished around him for the second time, going into overstimulation as his hips continuously smacked against your thighs.

“More Jaeyun.” You whisper, turning your head slightly, even though you deemed yourself done, a part of you still wanted to take more, feeling yourself being flipped onto your back. God, you were such a sight for Jaeyun. Your doe glossy eyes meeting his darkened irises, silently begging for him to stick his cock back in you.

“Hold your thighs up for me.” He tells you, guiding you to make that happen. You were nearly folded in half, your puffy pussy on display, hole pulsating and begging to suck Jaeyun back in. A loud moan that other guests probably heard leaves your lips as Jaeyun re-enters you, this new position making him hit deeper in your cunt.

“Shitshitshit—!” You cry out, trying to hold yourself up as Jaeyun wanted as he relentlessly jackhammered his cock into you over and over again. He lets out a string of low groans, along with your high-pitched moans, feeling how tight you clenched around him. “Feels good huh?” A smirk plastered on his face as he looks down at the way his cock slid in you so deep, keeping up with his rough and fast place, moving to place one of your legs over his shoulders. Your head lolled to the side, overwhelmed with pleasure seeping into your body.

“M’ gonna cum again ‘Yun.” You whimper, feeling his tip make a small bulge against your stomach as your palm presses down against it. “Hold or f’me a little doll.” He grits his teeth, thrusts becoming more sloppy as he’s only focused on chasing his own release. Holding your hips so tight, you were sure there would be marks by the time you woke up in the morning.

“Good fuckin’ doll.” Jaeyun sighs, thick strings of his cum filling you so deep, as he helps you ride out your orgasm, shuttering around his cock. Your eyes are giving out, feeling Jaeyun crash his body to the open space beside you on the mattress. The darkness in his eyes was gone, only full with what you saw as love and affection. He mumbled another promise to you that had your heart racing naively.

“I will always take care of you, doll. No matter what it takes, I will do anything for you.” And he genuinely meant what he said, even if it took such unorthodox ways to keep you by his side.

The news broadcast on the television plays, the sound of the water running in the bathroom as Jaeyun is taking a shower. You’re wearing one of his t-shirts, lazily standing close to the television as you’re eating breakfast from room service. You’re half paying attention to what the news anchor is saying. But then you pause when you hear Sungchan’s death being mentioned again.

More details are added on, along with blurred footage of Jaeyun’s figure from hours ago, in the exact outfit you ran into him wearing, his face is covered by the mask. But you knew it was him. You couldn’t be naive to this.

Jaeyun is a murderer. And you were on the run with a wanted man that you were in love with.

Your jaw opens, dropping the fork, and eventually the plate with your food, nothing bothering to clean the mess up as you watch the news explaining more detail. You felt so stupid, not even noticing Jaeyun’s presence in the room as you stood there lifelessly trying to process this ‘newfound’ news.

And for once as your eyes meet Jaeyun’s, they’re filled with fear. His pupils dark and filled with wickedness. A sly grin is plastered on his face as he stares at you.

“Well well well, the little lamb has finally realized she’s fallen into the arms of its predator.”

— @00kittenz @pshbites @selleprotection @p4ranormaluv @slutforjaeyun @jaeyunsbimbo @faithnsstuff

note: thank u so much for 460+ followers 🥹🥹!! i appreciate all the support you guys give on my posts 🤧🤧🫶🫶

[ladybyakuya]

| MY STARGIRL + rafayel, sylus, xavier, zayne. 

+cw. — f!reader, headcanon + scenarios format, established relationship, unprotected, s/d dynamics, explicit smut, rafayel is in heat, period sex, oral sex, f!overstim + m!overstim,  | +wc. — 3.5k |

+syn. — the thought of having a quickie with you occurred to him so suddenly and so enormously that all he needed was just to make it go away. However, it did not stop there.

+notes. — something possessed me while I wrote this. So happy that I’m finally making the debut post for this fandom & thanks to @hayatoseyepatch for beta reading all my lads pieces. | redirect to blog navigation

◈ RAFAYEL. 

“It’s just the tip baby,” Rafayel whispers against your ears followed by a prolonged groan. Encapsulated by his arms you feel immobile under his touch. He adds, “I promise.” You know him better than he knows himself. He says it's just the tip but the way he is being handsy with you, playing with the hem of your robes, pressing himself against you it does not strengthen the promise part of his word. 

“I don’t think you will. . .ahaAah!” His lips have already moved onto the bottom of your nape. You can feel his teeth sinking into your skin.  You can still look at the view of the vast blue of the sea through the window but as his hands skim under your dress cupping your breasts you moaningly exclaim, “I bet you won’t stop just at the tip.” There is a hint of mockery in your tone, underneath that, a challenge. Rafayel can take on challenges quite well even though he will whine about them throughout, very well when it is coming from you but not a taunt. That’s still a little hard to digest for him.

“Hah! We’ll see who’s on the winning side,” He rasps against your ears before turning you towards himself. Now your back is against the warm glass window. The heat does not irritate your skin since the sun is not very rowdy today but Rafayel is. Rafayel does not wait any further for any form of resistance but ends up smashing his lips against yours. It is the first time he has been like this, so needy, so rough, and above everything you like it. Is he on his heat cycle already? Both of your hands rest on his chest, trying to push him away at the possible realization because it would be dangerous for both of you but he just wouldn’t budge. So, instead of trying to resist, you just give in. 

“We’re not going to do this here, are we?”Rafayel does not answer your question with words but with his actions. He clusters all your dress up and tucking it over your boobs. You gulp as you help him to unbuckle his belt. As soon as his pants hit the floor, you can see the evidence of his yearning for you. 

Rafayel takes you into his lap by hoisting you up in his arms. The moment he pushes the head of his cock inside you, a gush of warmth washes all over your body. It is a beach resort solely owned by him where you have accompanied him but there must be at least a few staff, right? What if they see you like this? The chances are bleak but never zero. Those worrisome thoughts were pushed aside you feel the base of his cock hitting your skin with a strong deep thrust making you arch and moan.  You tip your head forward to say, “But Rafayel. . .you said. . . it's just the tip.” 

“And you said I —ahh— I can’t be stopped at just the tip.” He states as he starts to rut into you. “I'm just proving you right. Doesn't it feel good to be on the winning side?” it does . . . it does . . . your arms encapsulate around his shoulders as he starts to bob you up and down his fat shaft as you bury your face into his shoulders. He is stronger than his usual self. As he quickens his pace you start to whimper and you can feel him leaking and growing inside you, reaching your sweet spot as he keeps rutting into you in full yet strong thrusts.

By now, he has fucked you in different positions and different places of the resort keeping in mind not to finish inside you. He can not just help it: chasing the thought of cumming inside you especially when he fucked you raw for the first time. But he can wait. No. he will wait for you till you are begging for him.

And, when the sun sinks into the sea making the sky blush at its fullest, you and him are deep in slumber, in front of the fireplace, under the sheets, naked underneath, and holding each other.

◈ SYLUS.

It’s painful. He has been teasing you for a while now and your posture does not make it easier for you. Your muscles feel clammy. The way Sylus keeps rubbing the tip of his cock-head against your soft, tender flesh of your femininity gradually wears off your patience, thinning your limit and testing your sanity. It was you. It was all you. You admit that but you did not think he would be able to keep up when you kept being so needy, so ready for him. By now, you have come to know his melting points and you know when to abuse them and when not to. When you said you needed him, despite being in your months-time, at first he hesitated because you are not someone who can easily beg or ask for things but when you kept being handsy, and distracting him he said he would— with just the tip— a mere quickie but you never knew it would turn out to be this tormenting.

“Wait Sylus. You gasp as he rests both of his palms over your respective knees. This position.”

“Yeah, too deep?” Sylus verbalized with a veil of mischief over his face as he spread your legs apart as a result pushing the tip of his cock-head inside you. But before now, he would jock down to kiss you,  suckle at your nipples, and play with your hair but his cock would still be rubbing against the outer folds of your pussy, and truth be told, it was good, it was okay you felt satisfied but the moment you felt his cock inside you, even just the tip, it made you want all of him. “Let me know if I hurt you, okay?”. He isn’t; if anything he is diluting your self-control by pushing himself in you in small doses.

Sylus smiles as he cups your cheek, rubbing his thumb over it. He sees it the way you keep swallowing, gasping for breath, biting your lip, touching yourself — you do that when you want something yet can not ask for it. As you half-lay on the bed, with elbows resting on the mattress creating dips under the influence of your pressure Sylus leans towards you his hands still intact on your knees, spreading them further as a result of which he sinks more into you; you gasp followed by a moan feeling almost half of him inside you. With a crease amongst your eyes, eyes closed, chest heaving up and down while the night robe is barely covering your breasts you look divine under the dim light of the room.

You can feel how aroused you are. It would merely take a few thrusts to make you cum. He can feel that too yet dares to ask, “Do you want me to move?” Since he asked so nicely you decide to play into his little game. Wrapping one of your arms around his nape, you pull him into a strong, yearnful kiss. He can tell. He can certainly tell how much you want him now. As you slowly feel his hands under your waist locking in, your legs start to curl around his hips The lights go dead when you pull away from the kiss to take a breather and he pushes all of him into you adjusting you in his lap. A gasp of a high note blesses Sylus’s ears followed by a trail of short quick huffs as if he ran fingers along the piano keys. Even with the lights out, when you glimpse his eyes on yours a hot wave of embarrassment washes over you. 

The lights are alive again when you bury your face in his chest. 

“Kitten, you doing good?” He asks that with the whole of him inside you despite knowing how such soul staring gaze while having sex makes you nervous. He walks into a different room in that position carrying you where two mirrors are placed opposite to each other. 

You barely peep seeing him through the mirror at first and then look into his eyes, commanding, “Fuck me as you hate me Sylus.”

A throaty chuckle escapes from his chest as he says, “Y’know I can’t do that.” As he puts you on the bathroom sink. “However, I shall not disappoint my queen.” placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

◈ XAVIER.

Xavier claims that he is not much fond of the idea of punishments in general but he has never denied yours. In fact, he has enjoyed them thoroughly till the end. He has never been the one to ask things right away and always ends up taking detours after detours observing your expressions so minutely, so intently since it sends an ample amount of electric thrill in his heart for a few seconds — the way you look away when he makes advances on you, the way you quickly lick your bottom lip before dismissing his approaches or the quickening of your breaths, the flustered look— even if it is just for a mere few seconds — it’s all worth it in the end when you just give in, doing all those innuendos, craving your walking path only to him and him alone. 

But, this time you decided to try tackling him from a different angle. You did not resist like you usually do when he slowly started to cave into you. In fact, you agreed with him right away. Both of your stress would just sublime especially if you two took a quickie break together. Ah! The look on his face— was priceless: with one of his eyebrows pitched higher than the other as a small crescent appears along his lips: he is so confused. Even if Xavier can not quite navigate your thoughts he is not backing out and you know he won’t.

As you sit on the nightstand crossing your legs, one upon the other with your heels still intact you summon him with your arm raised, all the fingers lightly curled into a fist except your index finger that moved to and fro for him, while Xavier stands at an arm's length from you. He walked towards you but stood, waiting for your next move. You loosen his tie and pull it away from his collar with a swish. He leans into you but stops midway as he feels your pointed nails digging into his chest. 

“Turn around,” you utter with a grave tone. It is so odd to see you like this that Xavier can not help but be pulled into this intimidating daze of yours. After you tie his hands at the back he turns around and then the fun begins. Xavier loses his mind for a good minute when he sees you taking his cock out of his trousers, jocking down with lips forming an unfamiliar pout, only to spit on it, stroking his length all over, coating your saliva on his cock. He groans loudly enough for you to look at him. Is he okay? With his head tipped backward you fail to gauge his expressions so you spit on your hand to use it as a lube for his cock.

Xavier tips his head forward as he feels his cock being surrounded by something, but only a part of it. There is a gap in between your cross-legged sitting posture: the gap between the end of your knee and the apex of your calf muscle with your other knee underneath. 

“You don’t mean — Xavier stammers— that I—

“Yes. I mean exactly what you’re thinking.” You exclaim with a firm tone by keeping your fingertips underneath your hand, elbow rested over your knee as you wait for his move. As he starts to move he can understand how much he has to work for himself to cum and you are just staring at him. It drives him insane, really. With his hand tied at the back, he can only do so much so you decide to help him— out of pity of course. After you unbutton his shirt one by one, you hold his hard nipple with your sharp nails and pinch it; Xavier has to fight the urge to hold himself back from latching his lips on your warm skin.

As your hands move upwards, caressing his cheeks, thumb abusing his lips. He glances before he takes your thumb into his mouth while his hips are in constant motion. “Go ahead. Get yourself off.” Yeah! He doesn’t need to be reminded of that. You watch his face contort, your thumb pressed in between his teeth making you wince as he peaks his orgasm. He pulls out his cock and the exhaustion is heavy on his muscles. 

Inserting a finger into the gap between his belt and trousers, you pull him towards yourself, whispering, “Good boy ”over his lips before kissing him. He moans while kissing and surrenders as you untie the knot of his hands which immediately clamp around your shoulder heads. Well, aren't you an angel for showing kindness to him?

“More. . . more . . . I want more. . .” Xavier mumbles taking a quick breather before diving back to one more kiss and this time he is rougher than usual. 

◈ ZAYNE.

Zayne has been teasing you for . . . ah ! You do know how long has it been since he pushed you over the pool table. His cock is still inside his pants, intact but awake. Although the only view you have is the ceiling and sometimes his face when he rubs the clit folds by running his thumb roughly over them while the rest of the finger rests against your inner thigh. He has unbuttoned your dress shirt enough to have a view of a slice of your supple skin. Every time he presses your bud, followed by a rough rub towards the apex of your cunt he sees your navel sink. It turns him on, too much for him to ignore the attention that his cock has been begging. Your palms lay flat on the green of the pool table yet every time he jocks down to have a taste of your arousal your nails dig into the corase of the table. 

As Zayne stands up again, you whimper before saying, “Stop teasing, me. just put it in already. ” The tip of his nose glistens. Does he know that? He licks his lips before responding, “But I haven’t even. . . he trails off because part of him does not wanna scare you by bringing the thought into light that how he has not taken out his cock yet. He has been touching your folds, lapping over your arousal once in a while. You can not see but only hear the lewdity now while Zayne can see that you are so wet that the moss green of the pool table has become dark green. You don’t need to know that, not now.

“Have a little trust in yourself, I know you can take it.” Zayne supplies in a tart manner but actually, he is reminding himself not to cross the thin boundaries too much otherwise he won’t be able to keep his urges at bay. He is under the influence of the same pain as you yet you are so whiny about it which only makes it harder for him to refuse you in this vulnerable needy state. He was just teasing you, flirting ever so slightly to get you comfortable and now he is in deep trenches of pleasuring you. 

But, there is pain underneath. Your body tells him that you want more but he is not sure about himself how long he can keep at it.

Fuck. He can’t. Not anymore. In a series of rough and messy movements, he has his cock out of his pants, aligning to your entrance. One glance and the moment he is inside you he can feel your cunt clench around his cock while your legs wrap around his hips. He can hear the click of your heels as he leans over you, his face in the nook of your neck, not moving but still adjusting to the feeling of your gummy walls wrapped around him but you are so impatient. He feels your wet suck of the lip over his collarbones which denotes his desire for you. As he starts to buck his hips against you, you suddenly think how the design of the ceiling is not boring anymore.

[princessbrunette]

In need fathers day with baby daddy rafe, pretty pretty please princess 💕

ᘏ ⑅ ᘏ   ഒ    zᶻ

you always felt nervous going to tannyhill. not that you felt unwelcome, everyone in his life made it clear that rafe’s baby was of utmost importance to them — so with that came the kind and supportive treatment toward you. however, you couldn’t help but feel like a burden. if rafe wanted to be around you and his kid 24/7, he would do so — hell, he’d get back with you. due to feeling like this, your palms were all sweaty by the time you’d reached the front door, card tucked under you and baby carrier weighing down your arm.

he looks surprised to see you when he opens the door. still in his shirt and slacks, it’s clear to you that rafe had buried himself in work today. it only then occurs to you that father’s day might be difficult for him, giving his circumstances at all. you inwardly wince.

“uh, hey.” he eyes you, itching his cheek and peering into the baby carrier.

you clear your throat, bashfully holding out the card. he takes it in silence and you place the carrier down, picking up your sleepy baby and holding her to your chest. “happy father’s day, daddy.” you smile, voice soft as to not disturb your child too much. he softens a little, blinking.

“that today?” he breathes and you stiffen a little. surely he knew?

“uh, yeah. we got you a card, wanted to let you spend some time with her today if you’re not too busy.”

“if i’m not too— listen i’m never too busy to see my kid okay? or you. i’m— i’m never too busy to… see my family… and stuff.” it’s awkward, the sentiment too soft for his liking and he looks down, staring at the sweet, milk-plumped angel in your arms. “let me…” he reaches out and takes her, her fat little fists immediately stretching for him and curling into the material of his shirt making your heart swell. he was always oddly a natural at this, handling her so well. it always filled you with a strange kind of sadness, one that regressed you slightly to something more scolded and childlike because your own father hadn’t offered you that same generosity. yet, you were thrilled your baby would receive that love even if you weren’t together with her father.

“come in, please.” he stands aside, holding the door for you before picking up the carrier in his other hand— effortlessly walking it with the baby to the living room. “you walked here?” he converses, setting the carrier down and placing the baby back inside, crouching down to stroke her tummy with the side of his finger.

“took the bus. no way im walking with that heavy thing.” you chuckle quietly and he swivels his head to glance at you.

“should’ve told me you were coming i would have got you. y’know i really don’t like you getting on the bus with her, it’s not safe alright, there’s all kinds of lunatics out there.”

“we survived.” you shrug, and there’s a short silence before he stands up, reaching for the card and opening it up. you fiddle with the hem of your dress awkwardly. you never quite knew what to do around rafe these days.

you watch as he reads the contents. ‘to daddy, thanks for being the best and always looking after me. can’t wait to be able to tell you myself how much i love you.’ you sign it off as your daughter, but his eyes linger over it, your sweet handwriting scrawled around the brightly coloured paper — almost for a moment like you were saying it yourself.

“and before you ask, yes she said all of that herself.” you joke to ease the tension and he snaps out of it, looking up at you with a chuckle.

“our little wordsmith, huh?” he smirks, wandering over to the mantelpiece and displaying the card. it filled you with some kind of pride, though it wasn’t about you. “look uh…” he strokes his jaw, glancing over at the baby. “let me take you both out for dinner, yeah? my treat.”

“your treat? rafe its father’s day, we’re supposed to be treating you—”

“i know, alright but… i’m supposed to be looking after you, right? looking… looking after you both.” he corrects himself, walking closer to you until he was basically looming over you, eyes wide. “and— and i know this is a hard day for you too, alright— shit, it’s a hard day for me. gotta bond as a family at some point, you know that right?”

you nod, feeling a weight off your shoulders a little at the way the tension fizzles out.

“you sure? i don’t wanna take up your time—”

your incessant apologising makes his eyes flutter in irritation and he takes your cheeks in his hands, forcing you to look at him as he ducks his neck down to be more at your level.

“you’re not… yeah? you’re not. so quit.”

you blink all dumb, not realising how badly you missed his hands on you even if it was just as an innocent gesture and you nod, not trusting your voice. you try not to overthink the way he leaves his hands there for a moment as he glances over at your baby, thumb absentmindedly stroking your cheekbone for a second before pulling away and patting his pockets. “has she slept?”

your brain malfunctions so it takes you a second, but soon you choke out a “y—yeah. had her afternoon nap she’s just still waking up.”

“good. i know somewhere quiet, got a host there who owes me a favour.” he strides to the carrier and lifts it before turning back towards you, blinking at you obviously. “well are you coming or— or what?”

“yeah. yes. i’m coming.”

ᘏ ⑅ ᘏ   ഒ    zᶻ

[copperbadge]

Recently I ran across an article about an art center that was doing creative expression classes for people with disabilities. Not that unusual, I've encountered that and trauma-oriented art therapy before, but it was the first time I'd come across the idea since getting diagnosed with ADHD. While the class was aimed more at high-needs disabilities, it occurred to me that I could -- if I wanted -- make non-prose art about being disabled.

Outside of my work in scene design I've never been much of a visual artist because I've never felt I had the combination of "something to say" and "a meaningful way to say it", but I started to question how meaningful and complex I really had to be to just make some statements about having ADHD. I can do it in prose, after all.

So I started thinking about how you would talk, in visual language, about things like time blindness, shame stemming from undiagnosed disability, the shift in behavior that medication can induce. Ways to express my condition to people who don't experience it. I still didn't really know how to build the pieces but whenever I went to an art museum I'd think about how I might do a gallery installation. The centerpiece of my mental gallery was a pair of barcodes, one marked "Neurotypical" and one marked "Neurodivergent".

[ID: An interior view of a small booklet, with pages marked 1 and 2, showing barcodes -- on the left, labeled Neurotypical, and on the right, in slightly weirder configuration, labeled Neurodivergent.]

And then I thought, why not make a zine? Nothing you're thinking of couldn't be put in zine form instead of on a gallery wall.

[ID: The booklet continues to pages 3 and 4; on page 3 is a postage-style label reading AUTISM with up arrows on either side, and on page 4 is a QR code labeled ADHD. The QR code technically should work but it just dumps a block of text I wrote about having ADHD into a browser.]

I grew up with zine culture in the 90s and I always wanted to make one but much like with visual art, I never felt like I had the right kind of thing to say; either I had too much to say or too little, and anyway I wasn't confident that what I wanted to do wouldn't just come off as trite and obvious. But you can make a six-page zine out of a single sheet of paper, so I did: I made Helpful Labels For Strange Brains by idab zines, a division of Extribulum Press. (i--dab is a term for a cuneiform tablet that contains a royal communication.)

[ID: The last two pages feature the same image -- a cereal bowl with a spoon in it, the spoon containing a single Adderall pill. One image, however, is captioned "Wake up. Pour yourself a cup of iced coffee. Fix a bowl of cereal. It's going to be a good day." while the other is covered in a detailed ADHD-style step-by-step process for the same actions, culminating in "It's going to be a day like that."]

I'm pretty pleased with how it came out -- the art all looks intentional and it still has that "taped this together after school" aesthetic I remember fondly from the 90s. And the confines of six pages, each only a few inches square, offers a good structure to keep things clear, simple, and meaningful.

[ID: The cover of the zine, labeled "Helpful Labels For Strange Brains" in a kind of esoteric stampy font.]

Especially nice is that if you wanted to you could just hand out the flat sheet, and let folks fold it into a booklet or not -- there's instructions for folding it on the back of the zine. Additionally I have some sticker backed printer paper so I could print it such that you could literally turn the labels into real labels.

Anyway if you want it, here ya go. You can print it on a single sheet of paper and follow the instructions on the back to fold it. I thought about selling it but I do not have the spoons to do a bunch of printing and folding and shipping.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Sanemi losing what is left of his patience when you get injured by a demon

Pairing: Sanemi x wife!reader

Word Count: 3k

Synopsis: Despite the fact that your husband is the opposite of your quiet and kind self, you love him dearly while Sanemi treasures you in a purely unique way. But even though you learned to love his rough side the way it is, you can't stop tears from falling when your husband loses it after you get injured by a demon

Warning: this is THE angst to fluff y'all, Sanemi is a rough but soft boi I'm so weak for him in this fic omgomgomg, been listeing to again by noah cyrus and lana del rey while writing this, injury + angst + near death experience

this might be my favorite sanemi fic coming from my own hands so PLEASE if you feel the same, I'm super thankful for a lil like, comment or even reblog. THANK YOU SO MUCH 🤍

Oh, it was never easy, being the wife to none other than the wind hashira. When you’re quiet he’s noisy, when you’re put together he’s all over the place, while you act loving and kind Sanemi shows his devilish side.

But there was not once a day that made you second-guess your decision, not a single moment that made you feel something apart from deep affection for that man. It doesn’t matter that you are the opposite of him in each and every sense. He’s yours. And you’ll forever be his.

“Sanemi!”

Your oh so sweet voice echoes like a well-composed melody through his ears, makes him forget the wave of anger that washed over him earlier. Just seeing you standing there in the yukata he gifted you years ago while holding a dish with ohagi in your hands allows him to forget all the shit that happened for a brief second.

“Didn’t I tell you that you aren’t allowed to overwork yourself?”, he grumbles before sitting down opposite of you.

You look as good as always with your hair well-brushed and kind eyes lit by the down-going sun. What would his life look like if it didn’t contain of coming home to you? You, his only ray of sunshine. You, the only one who’s able to calm his temper down. Just you, his beloved wife. Who would have thought that out of all hashira, he’d be the one who treasures his wife the most?

“It’s not me who is overworked, but you. Did you get bruised again?”, you question with your melodic voice.

“Nah, I’m fine.”

“Will you stay home tonight?”

“I definitely hope so. If that crow disturbs my sleep again…”

“You have an important roll to fulfil, as a hashira-“

“’It’s my honor to bring peace to those who aren’t able to look out for themselves.’ Yeah, I already know.”

In contrary to his harsh tone, his fingertips caress your cheek gently while his eyes soften in an instant. It was hard, learning how to read him. When you first met, it was not uncommon that you broke out in tears after he talked to you like that. But now, after 4 years of getting to know him, you never lose your kind smile.

“How was your day?”, he continues.

With a swift motion, he pulls you between his legs and presses your head against his bare chest while his strong arms keep you in place. This are the moments that make your life worth living. Just you and your husband, arm in arm, watching the sunset in nothing but peace and silence.

“I enjoyed the nice weather while taking care of the garden. The tulips look exceptionally beautiful this season.”

“They’ll never be as beautiful as you, though”, he replies with low voice.

If life could stay like that. Oh, what you’d give to never let go of him again…

-later that night-

“Wind pillar, wind pillar! An emergency occurred! Countless demons were spotted nearby! The demon slayer corps need your assistance-“

“Can you just shut the fuck up”, Sanemi mumbles while pulling you closer sleep-drunken.

Immediately, you are wide awake. Nearby demons?

“Sanemi, you need to get up. What if someone gets injured?”, you whisper into the dark night.

“So what?”

You stare at him through the veil of darkness, not daring to say another word. He will get up eventually. He always does.

“Urgh, fine…Time to kill some demons, then”, he finally grumbles and drags himself away from you in order to put on his uniform.

“You stay here until I get back. Even if our estate is build pretty safe and I’ll rip off the heads of the demons around first, I don’t want you to be out there on your own. Got it?”, he instructs you before placing a gentle kiss on your forehead like he always does.

“I will. Please be careful and watch out for yourself”, you whimper.

It’s a challenge to let go of him each and every night he is forced to leave. He might be a hashira, but what if he doesn’t return by sunrise some day? What if he meets an upper-ranked demon unexpectedly? Just when he’s about to leave, you grab his hand one last time.

“And don’t act reckless”, you add.

No matter how much it hurts to let go of his hand, you know you have no other choice. This is the life you chose, the price you have to pay in order to call that wonderful man your beloved husband.

“I can never promise you that”, he replies before leaving you alone in the now cold and awkwardly dark room.

Everything will turn out alright. It just has to…

You don’t know how long you’ve been awake already. Minutes? Hours? All you’re able to do is stare at the ceiling above, ears perking up with every minor movement of the trees outside. Surely, Sanemi will return soon. Being the skilled fighter he is, it normally takes him at most two hours until he returns with his sheets still a little warm. But aren’t those two hours over already?

Another noise outside catches your attention. Is it a tree again? You furrow your eyebrows, immediately sitting up straight while staring outside the window. No, this almost sounds like the whimpers of a child. A child outside at this hour?

You swallow hard. A child outside when there are demons reported around this area?

“P-please, someone help me! I-I’m so s-scared!”

Your heart drops to the floor. There is no doubt in the fact that this has to be a child. Your mind starts racing back and forth. It would be absolutely unacceptable to leave that poor soul out on its own, especially when you can’t know if the area is really free of demons. But on the other hand…You bite your lip when your husband’s words replay themselves in your head.

“No matter what happens when I’m gone. Don’t. Go. Out. On. Your. Own. At. Night. Need me to spell it, (y/n)? Never ever, not in a million years. Got it?”

Not under any circumstances. Your husband made that very clear countless times. But does that include a helpless child outside your estate in the middle of the night? You aren’t a fighter like Sanemi is, even refused to keep an emergency katana in the house just in case. There is no way you could harm a single soul, not even a demon. Leaving a child outside in the middle of the night…isn’t that just as unforgivable?

Sanemi said that he’ll take care of the demons around first. That means you’re safe, right? But even if that poor child doesn’t face danger in the form of a demon, it will certainly freeze with that cold breeze rushing over the land these days.

“P-please, is someone there? I’m s-so tired and s-so cold…I…I can’t walk anymore…”

Your heart aches with every word. No matter how much value the promise you made towards your husband holds in your heart, you simply can’t stand the thought of ignoring an innocent little child that needs your help.

“Why are you out there all on your own, where are your parents?”, you shout into the darkness of your home while making your way to the door.

Is it really okay, breaking the promise you’ve made like that? You grab the handle of the door tightly. This might be the only time you’re actually useful. Without any skills apart from cooking, you can only watch from the side-lines how the demon slayer corps save the world. Maybe this is your chance to do a little something as well, your chance to actually be helpful.

You swing your door open while holding your breath.

“Where are you? Let’s get you inside and grab a warm tea, okay? You must be freezing”, you speak out gently, eyes scanning the garden for the little figure.

“I’m right here!”, the innocent voice cries out to your right.

Instantly, you pick up your pace and sprint towards the tiny figure lying in the grass. Oh no, you can’t imagine what this little child has been through, how it even got here. Did it get lost in the woods and failed to return before the night came? You’ll have to prepare a guestroom right away, just after inviting this little one in-

“Foolish woman.”

Time stands still, your glossy orbs starts to tremble when the tiny figure in front of you starts to build itself up, grows taller and taller until it surpasses your own height by multiple inches. This…this isn’t a child.

Your eyes widen in sheer horror, blood rushing through your ears so violently that you feel like fainting any given minute after it strucks you like lighting.

You were tricked by a demon. After Sanemi warned you over and over, you fell for the lousy trick of a demon. Out of instinct you start stumbling backwards, glossy eyes darted towards the horrific creature with bright red eyes and fangs bigger than your own head.

“I waited patiently until that demon slayer was gone. A young and beautiful woman like you sure tastes nice. Now that I’m seeing you fully, you were definitely worth the wait. I’m sure your flesh tastes excellent.”

Your blood freezes in your veins. Is this really how your life will come to an end? Because you didn’t listen to your husband, because you wanted to be somehow useful? How will Sanemi react, finding out that you were killed? Suddenly your legs threaten to give in and force you to come to a stand. It’s not like you’d be able to defend yourself in any kind of way when all you ever did was taking care of Sanemi and your imaginary perfect life.

A perfect life, ruined by one night of carelessness.

His face flashes in front of your inner eyes, the kind smile he always wore when he didn’t know you were watching. Despite the flaws others see in him, his hot temper and the way he treats his little brother, you are head over heels for him. Your husband, your everything, your Sanemi. A perfect little marriage, ruined by you.

“Don’t”, you hush into the night like the fool you’re are.

“How much I love hearing you little women beg not to get killed. Music in my ears!”

He dashes towards, ready to slice your throat open single-handed. Out of instinct, you let yourself fall backwards into the wet grass, watching how his claws brush over your forehead with enough force to discolour your vision red.

“Nice moves. You seem really healthy. That’s actually even better”, the demon purrs.

This is it. Your final moment on this earth, killed through the hands of a demon in your own well-groomed garden. You never imagined it all to go down like this, not when you’re still so young and full of love.

You didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye, to tell Sanemi one final time how much you adore him and that you’ll love him through everything. Will he be okay? The man who lost almost everything, who has to live with a burden heavier than earth itself balanced on his strong shoulders. This…this will break him even more.

“Any last words?”, the demon jeers at you.

Your breath gets stuck in your throat. No, there is nothing this creature deserves to hear from you, not even a single scream will escape your lips. You rest your lids, picture his oh so gorgeous face in front of your inner eye. If you only had more time, if you only listened. Your beloved marriage, vanishing in thin air.

“I’m sorry Sanemi. I’m so so sorry…”

When will it be over?

“Touch her and you’ll die.”

What...No, this is impossible, you have to be dreaming-

“Or nah, you’ll die anyway.”

 The urge to open your eyes again becomes unbearable.

Your heart skips a beat. Instead of getting greeted by the claws of the demon, you’re able to read it very clearly.

“Destroy.”

This back, so familiar broad…

“Sanemi?”

“Didn’t I tell you to stay inside the house?”, he barks over his shoulder.

It happens faster than your eyes are able to follow. One high jump, one slash of his sword and the demon’s head falls onto the soft grass in front of you. Immediately, you are surrounded by dust rising towards the moon.

“What were you even thinking?”

Before you’re even able to feel relieved your husband storms towards you, not a single spark of affection gleaming in his furious eyes.

“You promised over and over”, he screams on top of his lungs.

“I’m-“

“And you fucking lied into my face!”

Roughly, he grabs your Yukata with both hands and yanks your throbbing figure towards him.

“I’m so-“

“Is all of this a joke to you? Don’t you trust your husband enough to do as you’re told!? You’ve had this one job, that one fucking job to stay inside the house!”

“Sanemi, I-“

“Are you out of your goddamn mind? Did you really want to die right here?”

“Sanemi…”

You breathe his name into the night with strangled voice, tears now streaming down your face like a waterfall. You made a reckless mistake, but none of this happened because you wanted to hurt him. His words, his furious gaze, his hardened eyes so venomous that you have to look away dig themselves like knives into your already fragile heart and simply take your breath away. Out of all feelings, your husband is livid at you.

“I…I’m sorry”, you finally press out.

“You could have died, (y/n). You know that?”

He pulls you towards himself even harder, his hands fisting the fabric of your yukata so tightly that you fear he might rip it.

“You could have died and I couldn’t have done a single fucking thing. Losing you…Fuck!”

He yanks your chin upwards with one hand, forces you to look at him through your wet lashes. But you aren’t greeted by his stone-cold glare. No, are those…tears shimmering in his orbs? What’s left of your heart breaks in an instant.

“I can’t lose you. Not you, not the love of my life. Not another loved one. I couldn’t fucking stand this shitty world without you by my side. How many times did I tell you to stay inside the house when I’m gone at night?”, he screams at you.

“I-I’m sorry”, you hush through shaky lips.

“You’re my everything. Fuck, I love you so much…Losing you like that…”

The next second you find yourself devoured in his strong arms, holding you pressed against his chest so tightly that you can feel his heart pounding.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again, (y/n). Never”, he mutters into your hair while caressing your bloody hair.

“I’m sorry”, you mumble again.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Are you hurt? You’re bleeding, goddamn. Let’s get you inside, this needs to get stitched up.”

You don’t dare to contradict, allowing him to carry you back into safety with your arms cramped around his neck.

You’re safe. Sanemi is absolutely furious with you, but the worry in his eyes, the gleam…You bury your head inside his uniform, desperately trying to escape your own foolishness. None of this would have happened if you just stayed inside like he told you. If you were smart enough…

“How did he get you outside?”, Sanemi finally breaks the silence while cleaning your wound.

“He played a scared and lost child”, you mumble.

“Huh, what I thought. You’d never break a promise over nothing”, Sanemi replies, his voice a little softer than before.

“I know you tried to help, but never to shit like that again. When I saw you lying there and your blood on the grass, I almost died. You’re my everything, my wife. I can’t lose you because of a demon, you hear me? I was so damn worried about you…”

“I just wanted to do something…useful…”

“Useful? Are you too dumb to see how useful you are?”, he bites back.

Sanemi stops barking at you immediately after seeing how glossy your eyes turn all over again. No matter how fucking mad he is right now, he can’t hurt you any further. It’s clear you acted out of the right motives, he shouldn’t scream at you like that. Especially since you almost died tonight. Not his wife, not when you’re everything he has.

“I treasure you more than everything else in this world. You’re the reason I’m still believing there’s something good left here. Don’t you dare to risk your important life like that again, got it?”, he gently continues before caressing your cheek the way you love so much.

“I never wanted to cause you this much trouble. I…I was acting dumb…”, you mutter, intertwining your fingers with his.

“We’re all a little dumb from time to time, yeah? Let’s go back to sleep, that was more than enough for one night.”

You don’t hesitate when he pulls you along into the oh so inviting sheets. With him by your side, they definitely feel way more inviting. With him by your side, you don’t have to fear a single nightmare haunting you down this frightful night.

“At least I’m having an excuse now for a day off tomorrow. I love you, (y/n). So so much”, Sanemi mumbles into your hair, holding you so comforting against his chest that sleep washes over you almost immediately.

“I love you too, Sanemi…”

There is no doubt in the fact that Sanemi held you even closer each and every night after almost losing you through the hands of a demon.

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix  @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld

@froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake

@lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @sugu-love @ryva @baku2345

@komelrebi-san @kentocalls (your fic will be next) @barbuse @sunshine7queen @lavenderdrxp

@yaninnaacu @hopefulbelievertimemachine @skeleton-the-gangser (reader isn't pregnant in that one, but the vibe is the same as with the Yoriichi fic you enjoyed)

[marvelouslizzie]

Same Lonely Night

summary: Your roommate Bucky Barnes hears you pleasure yourself and moan something he never thought he would be into. That forces him to face his feelings for you.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

word count: 2.6K

warnings: 18+, masturbation, fantasies, daddy kink, no mention of y/n

A/N: This is the second part of A Lonely Night. This time we are seeing Bucky's POV and what comes next. You don't have to read that part to understand what's going on but if you want to, you can find it on my blog/masterlist. I planned this as a 3-part story and I hope I'll maintain my inspiration and motivation to write the last part. Wish me luck!

Thank you so much @notafunkiller for beta-reading and editing. You are the best!

All work is mine, please do not repost or translate without my permission.

Read more tag starts after the second paragraph of the story.

Bucky’s head is resting on the shower wall while the water is running down. His flesh hand is still wrapped around his cock, but he doesn’t move it. Taking a couple of deep breaths, he’s trying to calm himself down. 

He really had no intention to listen to you. He was just watching the news mindlessly, but his enhanced hearing turned into a curse the moment he heard you taking a sharp breath. He couldn’t help but focus on the noises you made. That’s when he started to hear the way you were touching yourself. Every stroke, every rub, every muffled moan… 

He knew what you were doing was private and he had no right listening to it, but he couldn’t stop. He just couldn’t. How could he? You were so needy and subby. Even in your fantasy, you were begging. He wondered what you were imagining. Who were you begging? Your crush? Maybe you have been seeing someone.

That thought had never occurred to him before. You were always in your element, working, chilling at home, doing whatever you enjoyed in your spare time, and occasionally going out with your friends. You never brought someone home. Not yet at least. So he never questioned if you were seeing someone or not. Even if there was someone, he wouldn’t know, and that thought suddenly hurts him.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck.” Your moans bring him back to reality. If you are seeing someone why are you so needy? Are you just that greedy or has it been that long? He’s certainly hoping for the latter. That’s something he can relate to, and it's probably been much longer for him. That’s why he can’t stop listening. That’s why his cock is painfully hard. Normally he would just remove himself from the house, and give you some space instead of creeping like this.

“Oh please, fuck me.” He would do anything to be able to do that. Anything. Just to be in that room with you, taking his time exploring your body and satisfying your needs. Even just the thought of it drives him crazy. “Fuck me, daddy, please.” 

That surprises him on so many levels. He never thought you would be into that. You look pretty innocent. He wouldn’t assume you would have such dirty fantasies. Fucking an old man… Are you into older men or is it just a little fantasy you are playing? Maybe you are seeing someone old. Maybe that’s why your mind goes there. He doesn’t know. He has no idea what’s going on in your private life, and every word that comes out of your mouth confuses him even more. It creates more problems, but the biggest one is, when he heard daddy, his dick twitched with excitement. So it makes him question himself, too. Is he into younger women or is it because you were the one saying it? The latter somehow seems more likely. Yet all of that doesn’t change the fact that he’s listening to you and getting hard just because of it. 

“Yes, yes, yes. Right there.” He hears how your head falls onto the pillow while your whole body is shaking, and how much you are enjoying it. He knows this is his cue. He should just remove himself from the living room so he won’t get caught with a hard-on. He doesn’t miss a beat. Quickly, he turns the TV off and runs to the bathroom. 

That’s how he ended up here, head pressed against the cold shower tiles, thinking about the way you said daddy over and over again. He is trying really hard not to give in, but his cock is aching with need. A part of him thinks he should just give in. It’s not such a big deal. Everyone masturbates. You just did. Three fucking times! That thought makes him groan. If you can come three times just by masturbating,how many times could he make you come? 

So it’s not even a conscious decision when he starts to stroke himself when he starts thinking about making you come. He can’t stop himself from imagining how you would look under him or on top of him. It doesn’t matter which position. He just wants to feel you. Your moans are echoing in his head while he caresses the top of cock. Just one stroke and it makes him tremble. He can’t remember the last time he felt this turned on. He can’t remember the last time his whole body heated up like this, just at the thought of someone. But you aren’t just anybody. You are you.

Maybe it’s because it has been ages since he had sex. Perhaps it’s because of his growing crush on you. He tried to control those feelings, thinking he was too old for you. He thought you would never look in his direction. Why would you? You are intelligent, beautiful and so cute. Like all these qualities aren’t enough, you are always so thoughtful. You always ask if he wants your leftovers, or if he needs help with anything. He knows he wakes you up at night sometimes. His nightmares are loud, but you never complained. Not once. You always let him watch the news even though you would rather watch something else. You even lent some books to him. They were in such good condition he couldn't believe his eyes. It was like reading a brand-new book. So yeah, he really tried to act like it was nothing but a silly crush, but after hearing the way you moan daddy he can’t stop himself anymore. It was as if you awakened something inside him.

He doesn’t know what to do. Should he take his time or just get over with it? He keeps his fingers loose, stroking himself up and down slowly while his head still rests on the tiles. Even with minimal effort, it feels so good. He gently cups his balls, massaging them and imagining you are the one doing it. You are the one touching the most intimate parts of his body. You are the one ready to satisfy his growing need.

“Oh fuck.” A moan escapes his lips. The shower is running and you don’t have a super hearing like him, so he knows he’s safe. Still, it feels like it’s something he shouldn’t be doing. He shouldn’t be touching himself. He shouldn’t be moaning like this, yet you are so beautiful and needy… He already wanted you before hearing how you sound in bed, but now he wants you even more. He wants to be the one to bring you pleasure. He wants to be the one that satisfies all your needs so much that you would never need to touch yourself. Unless it’s to tease him.

He’s feeling guilty. So fucking guilty, but there’s no way he could stop now. Imagining you does something to him. There’s this primal need in his abdomen, building up.

His fingers tighten around his cock, moving faster than before, and he presses his lips together, trying not to make a sound. He keeps rubbing on that one sensitive part of his cock and finally, he starts coming with a choke. He keeps stroking himself, thinking it will be over soon, but it doesn’t end. There’s so much come that it surprises him. His hands continue pumping and his come paints the bathroom tiles immediately. He takes a deep breath when he’s done, trying to collect himself.

It feels like his head is spinning. He had been masturbating for quite some time, but he doesn’t remember the last time it felt this good. He opens his eyes, trying to ground himself, and all that shame he feels comes rushing in while looking at the mess he made. He groans loudly and then reaches for the showerhead. It doesn’t take long for him to clean the shower and then himself with the thought of you is still on the back of his mind. He is soaping himself, scrubbing, and then rinsing while trying to convince himself that it isn’t a big deal. It’s just masturbation. It’s normal.

Of course, he knows how normal it is. It’s like breathing, eating, or drinking water. His body needs it so he gave in, but listening to you and touching himself while thinking about you… That’s where he crossed the line. He knows it, yet he can’t bring himself to wish he never heard you. He might be a creep or a pervert, it doesn’t matter. Your voice, the way you sound while coming, and the way you touch yourself are stacked in his memory forever. It’s something no one can take away from him.

Sighing, he steps out of the shower. Drying himself doesn’t take too long. When he steps into the living room, all that welcomes him is silence. You are still in your bedroom, God knows doing what. The TV is off, and nothing seems to have moved since he ran to the bathroom. So he’s safe. You haven’t heard or suspected anything.

Quietly, he goes back to his room, finds something to put on and just looks in the mirror. Is he really too old for you or is that all in his mind? He doesn’t look older than 35, but that doesn’t change when he was born.

What if you are into that, though? What if you really like older guys? That would change everything, wouldn’t it? You would like that he’s older than you. Maybe you would even call him daddy, just like you did in your fantasy. That thought makes the blood rush back to his cock, making him feel the arousal running through his veins once again. Like he didn’t masturbate in the shower a couple of minutes ago. 

He knows his anatomy by now. He knows he’s able to get hard again pretty quickly thanks to the super soldier serum, but he hasn’t been this horny for a long time. Especially not because of the thought of someone, but the thought of you calling him daddy… 

Jesus… It makes him so hard!

Sighing, he drops his whole weight on the bed and closes his eyes, fighting the urge to touch himself again. It’s for the best if he stops thinking about you and focuses on something else, isn’t it? He tries to think of something, anything that could take his mind off of you, but nothing, absolutely nothing is more interesting. Nothing he tries to focus on lasts. His mind goes running back to you, imagining how you would look the moment he would push himself inside you. How your mouth would open, how you would throw your head back, and how wonderful it would feel.

That thought does it. It breaks his resistance. All the effort he put into not touching himself again goes out of the window, especially once he imagines you saying “Harder, please, daddy, I need it harder.” His hand goes under his boxers, slowly toying with his cock. It feels like he didn’t touch himself today, and the need is even stronger now. After a couple of strokes, he realizes he can’t move his hand properly like this, so he pushes down his shorts and boxers at the same, creating some space for movement. 

He looks down at his cock, already oozing with precum. His flesh hand moves on top of the head and smears it all the way down, making it easier for him to play with himself. He sets a steady rhythm, testing what feels right, but his precum isn’t enough to make it enjoyable. That’s when he reaches for his nightstand and takes out the bottle of lube. His metal hand works fast, opening the bottle and putting a generous amount on hisnhand, before he puts it back and starts to touch himself. 

Now it feels much better. His hand works seamlessly from the top to the bottom, repeating the same movement a couple of times. He tries to get lost in his fantasies but something feels off. He isn’t sure what it is because what he’s doing is enjoyable. Something is not enough. Maybe he should work faster. So that’s what he tries. His hand starts to move faster on his cock, but that’s not helping. 

He’s pretty sure this is what his body wants especially because he’s still rock hard. Should he be more gentle and take his sweet time? That doesn’t seem to work, either. Does he need a tighter grip? Maybe, but he can’t do more with his flesh hand. He glances at his metal hand for the first time since he started. He never used it to pleasure himself before. The flesh looked and seemed more appealing than metal, yet right now it’s not enough.

There’s a first time for everything.

He reaches for the lube once again. This time he uses his flesh hand and pours some on his metal one as he tries to convince himself that this is not a bad idea.

He goes right back into touching himself, just with his metal hand this time. It feels different, really different, and surprisingly okay. It doesn’t feel as warm. The texture is completely different yet it somehow works. His fingers start to work faster, his thumb brushing over the head and, thanks to the lube, it starts to feel much better than he ever expected. His reluctance slowly fades away and he decides to test how fast he can move his metal hand and how much his cock can actually take it. As he paces up, pleasure starts to build so unexpectedly. He takes a deep breath but keeps moving his hand. His head is now thrown back while with the flesh hand, he cups his balls, gently massaging them.

“Oh god…”

He doesn’t realize that he's just said that out loud. He just keeps working on himself, letting his whole body relax under that pleasure. He really didn’t intend to focus on you this time, but here you are again, in his mind. The image of you on top of him… You with all your charm and cuteness, touching him, making him feel this good while he takes your nipples into his mouth and sucks them until you can’t take it anymore. It drives you crazy, so you beg him to fuck you. Just like you begged while touching yourself.

“Please, please, please… I really need it, please…”

He can hear it so clearly like you are here and really begging him. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do to make that really happen.

“Anything you want, doll.”

His fingers move like they have a mind of their own. He knows he should slow down a little, make this one last a bit longer because it feels amazing, but his metal hand isn’t listening to him.

“Oh fuck, fuck.” 

He knows he’s about to come. He can feel it. It’s right there, just a few strokes away. He loses his damn mind imagining you under him, split open, and getting railed by him. God, that would feel so fucking good! You looking at him with those big beautiful eyes and begging him for more… Then your name slips out of his lips like it’s the most natural thing to say at that moment. 

Right when he’s about to come, a loud noise comes from the living room. Like something has just got shattered into pieces. His eyes fly open. He grabs his shorts and puts them on quickly, tucking his freaking erection away, and opens his door to see you standing there with an oversized T-shirt on. The glass you were probably holding is on the ground, but you don’t seem to care about that. You are looking at him with wide eyes and an open mouth.

Shit! She heard me.

[starry-bi-sky]

Danielle and Danyal's meeting... very, very quickly goes very sour from, basically, the moment Danny steps into his room and finds Ellie sitting on his bed (strike one) and reading the comic books Tucker introduced him to (strike two). By the time she's looked up to address him, Danny has the door locked, and a hand hovering near the knife hidden under his shirt.

She gets her third strike when Danny, in a voice that could make the mountains tremble, demands to know how she got into his room, and she lies (with uncertainty of her decision growing in her chest) that Jazz let her in. Danny's hand shifts closer to his weapon, and he turns towards her fully, and says that Jazz would never let someone he didn’t know into his room, and who was she.

(Vlad Masters had underprepared Danielle for her meeting with Danny -- not out of any completely direct malicious intent, but he failed to mention just how... 'touchy' Daniel could be -- he failed to mention the scars littering up his arms, unhidden by the hoodie tee he meets Ellie in. He failed to mention that along with those scars, that Danny was visibly lean, capable of doing very real damage without the use of his powers.)

(He tells Ellie that he’s adopted, and that he is observant and clever, but ungrateful and has a bad attitude.)

Her final strike occurs when Ellie, trying to keep her facade of cheeriness, tells him that she’s his third cousin once removed. Immediately, Danny has his dagger pulled out, and Ellie finds herself with the cold metal of a blade pressing against her throat.

Danyal 'A.G' Fenton hasn’t killed since he arrived in Amity Park. At first it was because mother told him to keep a low profile, and killing would do the opposite of that. But, he's been slowly learning from his sister and friends over the years the value of human life. So it's become a combination of keeping his head down, and also that life has value to it.

But. That doesn’t mean he can’t kill, nor is he opposed to doing it if the situation calls for it. It just means that he doesn't do it. And ‘Danielle’ is an unknown in his room, claiming to be family to him, and appearing uncannily similar to him and his family. Either someone hired her and she was trying to pass herself off as a relative to him because that someone realized Danny was the biggest threat, or, his false death has been compromised, his mother was unable to tell him, and the league was aware he was alive.

No matter how he looks at it, this Danielle was a threat to him, his sister, his friends, to Damian, and to the Drs. Fenton. Danyal Fenton doesn't kill, but he has no problems doing so.

(Ellie, pinned under Danny’s knee and the blade to her neck, is too terrified to think of phasing out of his hold. Not that it would help, he would just chase after her.)

“You have broken into my home, dared to lie to my face, and when I demanded to know the truth, you dared lie to me again." Danny's scowl could cower even Skulker, his glacier blue eyes burning. "Your continual breath has been a favor from me, that I have graciously allowed, from the moment you entered my room, dahkil."

"So I will ask one more time," he hisses, "who. are. you."

Danielle, only a few months old, unprepared for the ice storm that is "Daniel" Fenton, and his clone in only flesh and blood, and not memories, immediately breaks. And tells him that she was his clone, that Vlad sent her to come capture him, and to please not kill her.

Danny's face twists with anger, Ellie thinks he's going to kill her anyways. Instead, he withdraws his knife and gets off her, stringing out curses in Arabic as he sheathes his weapon back into its hiding place faster than Ellie can blink.

He switches to English as she is collecting her bearings (and contemplating fleeing), and Danny paces the room like a tiger in a cage. "--of course that wretched, arrogant, peacocking little ingrate would do something so infuriating. I should have driven my sword into the shrivel of his heart when I had the chance--"

Ellie, for a moment, thinks of leaving while he is distracted. And starts to slowly creep away. But Danny notices instantly, and whirls on her. His too-bright eyes bore into her head: "Where do you think you're going."

"...I'm leaving."

And Danny scoffs at her, "Why? So you can fly back to Masters and tell him that you failed to capture me, and that I know that he cloned me?" He says, and Ellie remains silent -- that's exactly what she was going to do. "He will destroy you within seconds."

Of course, Ellie rears back in offense, and she finds the footing to glare at him. "He would not! He's my dad, he loves me!"

Danny gets in her face, glowering back with an equal intensity. "He does not." He snaps, "Vlad Masters has not a soul in his body nor a heart in his chest. He would sooner cut off the hand that helps him stand, than to take it along with him."

"If you're really made of my blood, then I will teach you only this: we bow not our heads nor our hearts to anyone." Danny's too-blue eyes narrow, and his voice dips into a hiss, "Especially not to a conniving snake like Masters. Your heart: cut it off, or cut it out. He will sooner leave you to bleed."

Then, he unlocks the door and drags her out before she has much time to act. And as he drags her down the hall he shoots Sam and Tucker a text, and they meet up at Nasty Burger. Ellie is a spitfire, but Danny has her too intimidated to leave.

"This is Danielle," he tells them bluntly as he corners her into the booth, "she's my clone. Masters created her."

Ellie is with them for a week, and somehow throughout that time, Danny manages to actually get her to like him throughout that time. He's callous, blunt, and full of sharp edges that you can cut yourself on. But when he's not spitting venom, he's fretting.

When he drags her back to the house after being with Sam and Tucker, he pulls her to Jazz's room and opens the door to tell her the same thing. "This is Danielle." He says upon abruptly opening the door, interrupting Jazz's studying as he pulls Ellie inside. "She is my clone, Masters created her. She needs clothes."

Then he turns and leaves, shutting the door behind him. Ellie, in that moment, thinks that now's her chance to flee. But Jazz then squeals, and she is trapped in new arms, shaken around by Jazz Fenton, excited for a sister.

(Ellie finds herself complaining to Jazz that night, shoved into old pajamas. She's in utter disbelief that Jazz could care about a jerk like Danny.)

("He's rough around the edges, but Danny does care." Jazz tells her, combing through her hair with her fingers. "We've been working on it ever since he joined the family, but Danny warms up slowly. He's usually less stoney; I think your arrival spooked him.")

("Spooked him?" Ellie repeats, she doesn't believe it at all. "He has a funny way of showing it, he threatened to kill me!" And she turns around just in time to see Jazz's press her lips into a line.)

("He's... very protective. He'll deny if you ask him, but he worries a lot." Jazz's fingers find her hair again. "What I do know for certain though, is that he wouldn't have kept you here if he wasn't worried about you at least a little bit.")

(Ellie doubts it.)

But Ellie is indeed there for a week, and the day after her initially rocky introduction with Danny, he is a little bit kinder to her. Still kinda a bitch, but he's less harsh to her, if... almost uncomfortable around her. Flighty, kinda.

Whenever she gets mouthy at him though, he looks oddly smug about it and, infuriatingly enough, praises her attitude. He is very, very annoying. And still kinda terrifying. But hearing him shout insults via puns at someone during a ghost fight that happens that week lessens the intimidating factor,,, a little bit.

Things go about,,,, relatively,,,, similar to canon. In the sense that it ends with Ellie defecting from Vlad because she finds out that Danny was right and that Vlad didn't actually care about her. (And that Jazz had been right too; Danny, in his weird, mean way, had been worried about her as well)

Danny looks out of his depth as she talks about how he was right, and he cuts her off with a vaguely uncomfortable clearing of his throat. And gives her the most awkward, but genuine apology he can muster.

"I should've used more tact when telling you about Masters, and I... apologize for threatening you when we met. I was..." he makes a face like he's sucked on a particularly sour lemon, "worried. First about my family, and then later about you."

(Ellie will be damned: Jazz was right)

Before Ellie leaves, Danny puts a hand on her shoulder and tells her: "I wasn't kidding about what I said to you when we first met: you are of my blood, and as such, you do not bow your head nor your heart to anyone."

Ellie looks at him, thinks about the last week, and smiles like she's caught him in a trap. "What about Sam and Tucker then? And Jazz?"

Danny smiles, it's awkward and tilted, like his face isn't used to the gesture. "We bow not our hearts, but that doesn't mean we can't share."

[angelbarelywrites]

♡ tommy gets jealous | oneshot

♡ fandom; Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2003/2006)

♡ characters; Thomas Hewitt

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡cw; mentions of kidnapping and violence, don’t date people who want to slash you irl not a good foundation for a relationship

♡notes; I put on my big boy panties and wrote something other than a bulleted list!!

I just love a good “i trust you but i sure as fuck don’t trust anybody else” type jealously trope. Also some Tommy doing ASL!! We love a (selectively?) mute king.

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

You were an oblivious person. Most of the time, anyways. You’d been totally shocked when Luda Mae didn’t let you leave the night you arrived at the Hewitt house, totally shocked when Charlie told you Thomas was obsessed with you, and more surprised still that Charlie had been right.

You weren’t stupid— you put two and two together that these folks were cannibals as soon as you saw the basement. You nearly talked Monty into letting you go, and you slipped your restraints a couple times before you were settled in. You’d done well in school and still could read a book in one sitting.

Maybe… socially inept was a better word, harsh as it sounded. It was only people that you had a such a hard time with. You trusted them, but you could almost never wrap your head around what they were thinking.

Like the customers that stayed too long . It happened a lot. Bikers and tourists and all sorts of folks would stop in when you were working in the convenience store, and usually more than once a day a man would stay leaned on the counter, chatting away until his buddies were about to leave him. Sometimes they’d be alone, and Luda would give you a break early and they’d go off looking all huffy.

It very rarely occurred to you that the men were trying to flirt. You didn’t think of yourself as someone that happened to- and treated all customers the same. Why would they think you wanted to bang em when all you did was smile? Being nice was part of your job.

Luda Mae payed no mind to the men or your conversations. If there’d been any cause for concern, she’d be able to quash it very easily. But she found it endearing, especially your confusion and apathy when they did get balls enough to be blunt . In her mind you were so devoted to Thomas that other men were just nuisances.

That’s why no one had mentioned it to Thomas. He rarely came up to help now that you were there to help Luda Mae, but today there was extra stock, and her joints had been aching from the weather. You were on register, Luda Mae relaxed in a rocker on the porch, and Tommy stalked the aisles and put out trinkets and canned food and all the other junk you sold. You were trying not to go distract him and stood leaned over the counter, doodling on some scrap paper between customers.

“Well hello darlin,” A man drawled, hands on his belt buckle. He was trying too hard to be a real Texan, but he wasn’t from up North like you. “You got any cigarettes back there?”

“Sure do! Let’s see… got Camels, Lucky Strike- I really like these ones, the Salems, they’re menthol-“

“You look too sweet to smoke. I’ll take the Camels,”

“Well, only do it on special occasions,” you shrugged, not paying much attention as Thomas stalked towards the front “Anything else?”

“Well. That depends.”

“On?”

“If you’re free or not tonight.”

You blinked, then furrowed your brow “You tryna ask me out?”

“Well I- oho shit!” The man laughed uncomfortably as he noticed Thomas right behind him “You scared me there big guy-“

He huffed and slunk behind the counter as the man nervously tried to get back on topic “Anyways… ahem…so about that date-?”

You huffed and out a hand on your hip “Well, depends?”

He perked up a bit “On what?”

“If you can beat my boyfriend in a fight.” On cue Thomas wrapped his arms around you from behind, growling as he hooked his chin on your head.

The man quickly turned tail and mumbled something about being out of practice, forgetting the cigarettes completely. You could feel Tommy relax and turned to let him pick you up and set you on the counter. Even then you weren’t eye to eye with the giant of a man…but it was closer, and you liked feeling tiny anyway.

“…hi baby.” You cooed and loosely wrapped your arms around his neck. He huffed and nuzzled you, as he often did as a form of reassurance. You giggled and pecked his mask “Annoying, right?”

He nodded and scowled, keeping his grip tight on your hips

“…what’s wrong?”

He hesitated but pulled back to sign ‘Mine. All mine. Right?’

You giggled again “Of course! All yours- always.”

He smiled softly- the sort of expression only you could coax out of him ‘Always’

[pinkcarsupremacy]

Okay in all the drama of yesterday's race I feel like we overlooked the F1 movie teaser and we need to talk about what the hell was going on in that.

So we start with 60yo racer Brad Pitt telling the audience and uh someone else that their car is beat on the straights by "Red Bull, Ferrari, Mercedes, Aston and now Mclaren" (as an Alpine fan I understand the plight) and that their only chance of beating the other teams is to battle in the turns and I quote "we need to build our car for combat" (never underestimate Americans and their ability to turn something into a war analogy)

After that bizzare statement the following exchange occurs:

Yeah fuck safety!! The FIA is actually involved with the making of this film if you're wondering.

From here on there isn't actually anymore dialogue and it's just a bunch of racing and track team shots set to 'We will Rock You'. It was here that it dawned on me that this movie is gonna be super bizzare. Despite all the noise about them filming on track at live race weekends it never occured to me the other drivers and teams would actually feature in it. I'm not even sure what I thought they were going to do but I assumed it would involve a lot of CGI.

But nope turns out this is actually just a strange self-insert film where an 11th team featuring 60yo Brad Pitt and his younger teammate will compete against real F1 drivers? The $300 million budget is starting to make sense - maybe they had to pay the other drivers a salary. I think one glaring problem with this is that it means there won't be other characters in the movie (excluding team members of the fake team) because the other drivers and team members are uh real people? Now that would be fine if it was a biopic like Rush where everyone are actors but here we have 2 actors and 20 real drivers (who are quite literally at work btw) and any interaction between them and the actors is gonna break the immersion of the film so badly.

Sidenote here's one of the Apex cars abusing a Williams - not the kind of behaviour that endears me to either of the fake drivers ngl. Probably should have picked a more disliked team to clown on.

Now I actually went and read an interview with the 2 directors to try and work out what is going on. At one point in this interview, Jerry Bruckheimer says: "It’s the only sport where your teammate is also your competitor, and that’s great drama in itself. Just think about that; you’re fighting with your own teammate for a place on the podium. And everything we use in the movie actually happened in an F1 race. Nobody can say: ‘That would never happen.’ It happened."

So in other words the teammates will fight and it will be based on real life events? Yeah unfortunately I'm getting Perez and Ocon in Force India vibes from that (those 2 shots pretty similar huh).

There was also this in the interview which is... I mean I don't really know what to take from this but it's certainly interesting. As an Ocon fan this quite literally strikes fear into my heart (why was he of all drivers named...) but we'll have to wait and see I guess.