#and then put him in. and had to erase 80% of it

[marshbarks]

just a little sketchy of my guys..

[iwtv-theories]

Similarities between Daniel & Armand (analysis)

In the iconography: 20 y old Daniel is on his knees (and 20 y old Amadeo is on his knees in the painting). I also have to point out that young Daniel has a startling resemblance to the white-washed Amadeo painting as well. A visual cue that they’re more alike than meets the eye.

"Bartering with desire" vs "in kind". At 20, both were 'rent boys'. Daniel 'bartered' himself for dr*gs. While Armand was 'donated...in kind' to pay for art work . "In kind" = payment in goods or services as opposed to money. "Bartering"= trade by exchanging one commodity for another. 

At the end of Louis' interviews both get their heads shoved into walls.This could be visual symbolism : both their ‘minds are broken’ because both of them can’t recall a decade’s worth of memories. Ironically, Louis may know more of his own story , than Daniel or Armand .

"curiosity"

“An instinct to self efface" . Effacement :“to erase oneself from a situation (to keep oneself in the background ) ” . Cough Armand literally erasing himself from memories & his Rashid disguise. Interestingly, out of all the traits Armand lists about Daniel this is the one trait Daniel agrees is true about himself. Both of them use ‘self-effacement’ as a manipulation tactic to find connection with others. Armand does so to stay with Louis. Daniel uses it to "get angles” and get people to "open up" to him. Literally right after Daniel said this he almost got Armand to open up about his life story

Armand:" That warrants investigation" vs Daniel the "investigative journalist".

Daniel & Armand lounging on the couch and saying Louis is being overly dramatic XD

being turned while having terminal illnesses : Parkinson's (Daniel) & in the show an unknown illness (for Armand) . Similarly , in the books Daniel was turned due to alcohol poisoning and Armand due to being poisoned.

Armand says in ep 4 his memories as a human are “fragments” vs Daniel saying his memories from the 70s-80s were a “blur” .

Both are called “boy” despite being old men. Santiago, the youngest coven member referring to the oldest : “I don’t know what the boy sees in him.” Louis: “he looked like a boy masquerading as a gentleman.” Daniel: “I’m not your f*cking boy! I’m an old man with all the triggers that come with it.” Daniel : “save it for the rent boy.” Armand looking visibly triggered by the comment then asking to leave the room . Armand to Marius (who often called him “boy”) : “I hate you! I’m a man and you deny it!”

As a human , book Amadeo had a drinking problem while book Daniel almost died of alcohol poisoning. Young Daniel (in the show) may also have drinking issues like his book counterpart /book Amadeo. Armand to Daniel in episode 5 : “a genteel drinking problem , like your father .” Armand’s dad : “Ivan the drunkard… Ivan was hopeless. Ivan would never see another sober night or day .Ivan would die soon poisoned by liquor./ a soft prayer for my father that he would not freeze to death tonight as he had almost done so many times, falling down drunk as he did in the snow. (*this echoes human amadeo getting so drunk he fell into the canal)”

Show Armand says Marius called him his "beloved Amadeo", which seems like foreshadowing/an easteregg of 70s dm since "beloved" was his nickname for Daniel in the books. Armand tries to emulate the Marius/Amadeo dynamic in his future relationships since he still equates it to love. Like how he tries to put himself in the Amadeo role with Louis as his 'Maitre (master) '. But for d.m he put Daniel in the Amadeo position (partially because it’s his first relationship with a human , since becoming a vampire and his relationship with Marius is the only vampire/human relationship he’s had) . So at least on some superficial level he recreates some aspects of the Marius/Amadeo dynamic, with Daniel .

In the books Marius feeds human Amadeo his blood, like Armand does to human Daniel. In the books amadeo says Marius’ blood tastes like “honey”.Cough- Louis describing Armand's blood as tasting like "honey" and Armand saying to Daniel in ep 5 "like honey on your tongue" (*this could be foreshadowing he will drink Armand's blood in the 70s/80s… or simply when he was turned).

Armand , during their first encounter, says “it’s okay it’ll be like a bath ” after he uses a rag (to remove the dried blood from his neck). This reminds me of when Marius first met amadeo and used a rag to clean his face / give him a bath. “He bathed me slowly . He had a soft gathered cloth with which he wiped my face.”

Human Amadeo/daniel were incredibly sarcastic and snarky to their future vampire makers

In the books, when Armand reunited with Marius in Tva he mumbled annoyed “same old tricks”. In tqotd , when Daniel reunited with Armand he says “same old dance.”

And both of their makers abandoned them

The parallels between Armand/Daniel persist throughout ep 5 , Daniel says he’d be a good companion to Louis because he has traits similar to Lestat and Claudia . 

But the IRONY is throughout the whole episode we see Daniel has A LOT of similarities to Armand . Possibly laying the groundwork for devil's minion in the 70s-80s.

I think while Armand was reading Daniel’s mind -whether it was as subconscious or conscious - it irritated him even more that they had so much in common. Or at least how similar Daniel was to Amadeo. Especially because he was trying to discern why Louis found him “more fascinating” .

For Example , all the other traits Armand lists out about Daniel’s could also be attributed to himself

'Dirty'

'deceitful'

'Enterprising'

'A splinter of coldness ' .

“He wants you in pieces for the privilege of putting you back together “

There’s also other more superficial similarities like Daniel saying he’d do night swims if he was a vampire (similar to Armand who swims often). Or the fact they both read the newspaper often.

I feel one of the MANY reasons Daniel and Armand were probably constantly butting heads and being snarky to each other in the present timeline is because on some subconscious level they remind each other of themselves (and they don’t want to acknowledge that). Especially Armand who is constantly playing a new character to placate his lovers . Young Daniel definitely reminded him of Amadeo . Similar to how Claudia reminded Armand of his past self as well .  

If I missed anything feel free to add to the comments or in a reblog :P

[yojeongin]

It’s my desire to give myself to you | p.js

→childhood friend!jisung x f!reader

genre: smut, romance, 80s au, childhood friends au, lost communication, open ended

synopsis: being the youngest in all friend groups has always proven to be beneficial for jisung but he’s no longer that little boy you met years ago. so why won’t you look at him for what he truly is: a man. he’ll have to prove it to you then.

warning(s): ADULTS ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! obsessive and whiney jisung, oral (f receiving), pussy drunk jisung, vaginal fingering, implied age gap although it’s not significant, public indecency, unprotected sex, bratty jisung, praise kink, bulge kink, begging, creampie, virginity loss (virgin jisung), alcohol consumption, infantilization mentions, overbearing mother.

wc: 11.6k+ || soundtrack || ao3

© 2024 YOJEONGIN all rights reserved — please DO NOT translate, take, nor repost any of my works on other social media’s. reblogs are HIGHLY appreciated and preferred!

an: happy end of the year fic, I’d consider this an accomplishment (writing 3 fics in one year lol)

Summers began to be the best thing for Jisung starting at the age of nine. He might have gone to summer camp reluctantly at first, not wanting to join his older brother. He had enough of seeing him all the time at school and home so why did his parents think it was fine to take away his precious summers of pretending to be an only child? It was a rough start, that’s for sure; but being taken under the wing of older kids served to be more fun.

Up until the age of sixteen he lived in bliss waiting for the day summer break to begin and be back where he felt free from the watchful eyes of his parents, only seeing them twice a month for visitations. As for his brother? He had his own life to run and the two barely bumped into each other which was a blessing in disguise for him. His bags were always packed weeks prior to the departing date and when his mother started to ask if he truly wanted to go –for she has been missing him terribly due to their increasing mommy-son dates– Jisung didn’t hesitate on turning her down. Summer camp is all he looked forward to, the only thing he put effort into school for.

Nowadays the only yearly highlight comes in Winter for the holidays in the form of season greetings cards. He’s learnt to conform. “You get what you get and you don’t complain.” Is what he told himself often and that’s all the fight he has left in him the faster the years pass by.

“No mail for me?” Jisung asks with that same pleading whine laced onto his voice upon entering his parent’s home. Leaning down to kiss his mother’s cheek while she shuffles through the mail. She hums, elongating her words while flipping through the envelopes of bills and season greetings. Hoping her hesitance would cement the feeling of disappointment onto her son once more. “Well, it doesn't seem so… Oh! No. Here you go.” His mom utters with a slight smile, cruel as it is. “Took them longer to send this year. Thought the Y/l/n girl was going to fully desert you this year.” She quips balefully. Jisung gives her a quick glance before looking at the picture.

This is the most he sees and hears from you nowadays and it has become unsatisfactory. He wonders where things went wrong more often than he wants to. When he wakes up he thinks about it. When he brushes his teeth and showers he thinks about it. He’s burnt his hand thinking about why your letters minimize little by little every year and it so happens to be that this year he only received a happy birthday letter leaving him in the dark for the following ten months until today. If you can call it that, all the card says is: “May the beauty of the Holidays bless your home with happiness.” Signed off in golden glitter: The Y/l/n Family. No hand written note on your part, no acknowledgement at all. He’s sure your mother only sent it as his address hasn’t been erased from their address book. Otherwise, he’s not sure if his –hopefully– mother-in-law knows or remembers who he is.

“She’s been busy.” Jisung defends in a murmur, turning on his heel to walk upstairs to his room. “She told you that?” His mother yells back sardonically once he turns the corner. He ignores her but the glimmer of her pearly whites blind him through his peripheral view. A reminder that he can try to ignore reality but his mother will always be there to remind him. She wouldn’t understand it. She won’t understand when all she sees is that little nine year old coming back from camp excitedly telling her about the friends he made and the pretty girl he wouldn’t stop talking about.

Or the ten year old that was so ecstatic to come back and ask her for her pretty paper to write a letter to that same pretty girl that finally hugged him and gave him her address to write letters to. She took his too and put it in her ‘important things’ box. Jisung saw you do it.

But Jisung is twenty-two now and lives off of the crumbs he gets to devour whenever he rereads every single letter you’ve sent him. His favorite ones are the birthday letters when you send him pictures of yourself with cakes you’ve baked for him even if he couldn’t eat them. He’s content knowing you cared for him that much. He clings to hope more when this year the cake looked even prettier but not as pretty as you in the multiple pictures sent.

He doesn’t entirely care if you only sent one this year or that you did not reply to his own birthday letter for you. He’s glad that you still cared enough to bake him his cake and let him see how much prettier you’ve gotten. One of those pictures is in his wallet at the moment.

It’s insane, no? To fall so head over heels for someone that has never been his. Jisung has known you for over ten years but nothing has progressed past embraces, friendly hand holding, and constant cheek pinches because you found him awfully cute. He still feels your touches linger despite lastly seeing you in person at sixteen.

Longing is the word he’s looking for. Longing and yearning is all he’s done since that last time he saw you and it becomes worse through the years with little to no communication. He wonders if you’re truly that busy to not spare him a few minutes to write back. Or if you’ve found someone that has prohibited you from contacting him further.

He foolishly expected a letter for his college graduation the way you sent him one for his high school graduation but it never came. He’s kept in contact with his other summer camp friends but they’re no good with information regarding you. Most but one left in the dark about your whereabouts. The last he heard from Jaemin, you had gotten a job and as vague as it is, that’s all he told Jisung.

Useless but also valuable. He envies Jaemin sometimes. He was the only one able to get far more closer to you and he doesn’t fully know how to feel about it. While you spent treating Jisung like a child, like a younger brother, things were always complicated between you and Jaemin. Vague as he is, to be specific.

All he can do now is lay on his bed with a cassette he bought precisely because you recommended it. He doesn’t like it but he does like you so he will endure. Endure like he’s done with anything regarding his yearning for you.

With your deliciously perfumed letters, fountain ink stains all over the pages, and images of you scattered across his bed with the music full blast on his walkman— Jisung revels in the pleasure of your indirect touch. Your fingerprints embedded on the paper and their oils seeping into his own skin the way they did years ago with every single one of your touches. He wished those touches were far more than playful and cuteness aggression. That the times your fingers lingered were because you wanted him as near as he wanted you. But once again, he will conform.

Conform, conform, conform.

In his state, Jisung doesn’t hear his mother’s covert steps when he twirls on the bed with images of you laying on his face. And he surely doesn’t hear her when she cracks the door open to spot his hands lingering on his thighs, memories of the time Hyuck and Chenle snuck alcohol on the grounds and all of you had a ball with it. He remembers your hands vividly on his short-clad thighs, giving them gentle squeezes as you chewed his ear off. He remembers the names Ralph Machio and James Spader spewing from your lips here and there. He wanted to shut them up with his, consumed by jealousy but also wonder how they’d feel against his.

Of course he didn’t, the alcohol made things seem funnier than they were and he wouldn’t overstep. Not when he knew his role in the group was to be cute and be taken care of. That’s how you liked him most, he noticed.

And when he twists again to fight off the temptation of letting his fingers crawl to the hem of his pants, a face he’s known all his life is looking at him directly. Startling more when frustrated. “Park Jisung!” leaves her lips, sending his body into a shocking jolt and his walkman flying across the room. His body crushed the photographs he was admiring, much to her delight.

“Mom!” Jisung whines, holding onto his dangerously fast palpating heart. He huffs and pants, attempting to relax himself before dropping another word. “What?” He aims to say calmly but she’s far from that. Her hands on her hips and a stern look around his bed transmits her disappointment, disgust, and anger.

“I read your grandmother’s letter and it turns out she will be spending the remainder of the month with us after all.” Silent scoff, as if this was the most absurd thing. “Take a run to the mall and get her a gift. I didn’t count on her even contacting us.” Well, that explains her foul mood. It’s made worse when all he musters is a nod but doesn’t make an effort to stand up. God, how she would love to pull him by those raven locks or his ear. Whatever gets the message through.

“Well hurry!” That’s all she can muster.

So Jisung does, collecting everything he can and shoving it into a locked box while his mom turns to walk out the door. Embarrassed is all he feels besides shaken up from the scare he gained.

“Don’t forget your gloves and scarf. Don’t want you to catch another cold.” She mutters while mixing whatever she was cooking. It smelled fine but he knew her food became dangerous when cooking upset. It had a life of its own. He hums as a reply, wanting to leave it at that. “Jisung.” She calls again, calmly this time, turning halfway to look at him.

“Forgetting something?”

He shakes his head, bundled up under all warm clothing.

“Sure?”

He nods and she huffs, walking towards him. She kisses his cheeks and the tip of his nose, cupping his face. That reminds him, manifested in a sigh and a smile that he leans down to kiss his mother’s cheek.

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

His bid farewell always leaves him upset. He’s twenty-two, why does she still treat him like he was three? Just yesterday his brother couldn’t stop pinching his cheek after buying him a crepe. Continuing to compare him to a cute little hamster despite Jisung having surpassed him in height.

Three weeks ago when he met with Jaemin to talk about you, the words ‘cute’ and ‘adorable’ would not stop spewing from his lips the way bile does. With the exception that Jaemin welcomed these in comparison. Mark, similarly enough, always clutches his face with restraint from crushing his skull and then engulfs him with a bone crushing hug that leaves him aching for minutes to pass.

He thinks Jeno is the only one with sense that treats him his age, yet he’s caught him other times babying him at the arcade. Especially when a stranger playing against Jisung wants to get quippy and there he becomes that eleven year old that Jeno and Hyuck had to defend from some idiots that had just watched Star Wars and felt inclined to the dark side.

Jisung decided to take the car, it was getting colder and he felt the remnants of snowflakes begin to fall even if they could only be seen under a microscope but he was sure of it. He contemplated walking in hopes of ailing himself to disturb his mother’s sanity but proved futile knowing she’d hover over him 24/7 until betterment. Therefore, his sanity would be the one disturbed.

For such a busy season, the streets looked empty and the mall itself wasn’t entirely full besides the movie theatre parking lot. Their billboard lights blinding him the longer he stares to see which movie seemed fun. He should at least get some enjoyment out of this. He can decide later. RIght now he has to pick up something he thinks a geriatric angry woman would like.

Let’s see… She likes disgustingly small yappy dogs like chihuahuas— as angry as her. She likes cats as sick as her… some yarn and new patterns should be a good gift. She doesn’t like those.

Decidedly, Jisung will take a stroll towards the end of the mall. Taking his sweet time to enjoy the scenery of the water fountain. He truly does like the mosaic. The flamingo pink tiles crawl up into a gradient of green tiles that surround the mouth where water spurts out. In better times, it shines under the sun. Right now, not so much.

He doesn’t leave before throwing in five pennies. Five for his birthday and five for safe measure that his wishes are secured. He always wishes for the same two things. Three to hear from you and two to beat Jeno’s centipede high score.

Jisung smiles and nods to himself, walking past the fountain, some water spraying on him. He doesn’t mind, he’ll take it as a sign that one of the two is to be granted soon.

Halfway through a cinnamon sugar pretzel after nearly choking from its dryness, Jisung decides to touch his heart and not gift his grandmother something she doesn’t like despite her being such a vile woman. Instead he should give her something that she won’t ever be able to lift and only admire which leads him to Sur la Table on the east wing of the mall. He grumbles and huffs annoyedly at the walk but he knows it’ll be worth it. Hell, maybe he’ll steal it for himself when she goes senile.

The only thing that he appreciates about this wing is the warm yellow lights from French and Italian wannabe restaurants that aim to attract hungry consumers and cooks. He enjoys the set up at Sur la Table, mainly because he gets to play with their faux kitchen setups and the shock on people’s faces when they overpay for these cookware items. Fooled into consumption from their fabricated experience.

He plays with some of the display pots and pans, twisting knobs and reading tags to see how pretentious he’ll feel after learning about Swedish enamel. He doesn’t know how much that matters —if it's a cash grab— but it sounds fancy. Before him, he prepares some plates. A nice hearty bowl of Caldo de Gallego. Jisung doesn’t know nor understands what it is but he remembers hearing it while flipping through the channels when his father got cable. A monumental moment for him.

“No dessert?”

And just like when his mother scared him shitless back in the privacy of his own room. A familiar voice snapped him out of his public exposition daze.

He goes through the same motions he went through back home. Clutching his harshly palpitating heart, panting and huffing to regain his composure, and feeling embarrassment. If he went through this once more today, he’ll definitely faint for good.

It’s far more embarrassing this time around. He took advantage that the store was nearly empty and no one came to this side of the store but he was proven wrong. Worse yet, the person that scared him was waiting for an answer.

Jisung still feels and hears his heart blaring in his ears but he tries to act cool. Only to fail when his knees buck once he registers the face that’s been accompanying him for the past ten months in his wallet. Albeit something was different. The length and color of your hair that’s for sure.

“Don’t be a stranger, come on.” Your voice is as sweet as he recalls.

Fuck, how he missed it…

Your arms extend to him, pleading for his embrace. Jisung doesn’t hesitate to give you what you want— as always. Swaddling you with his long limbs and making sure you can’t let go until he is done savoring this moment. He’s truly craved this for as long as he can remember.

A soft giggle works to ease his grip, letting you go with a nervous chuckle of his own. “Sorry.” He speaks, shyly covering his mouth with a sleeve covered hand. The apology not only yours to receive but himself as well for reacting like the little boy he was when you met; for the miniscule regression. He takes in your light head shake but tender smile. It’s a different scene from when he last saw you. There’s an obvious distance that he does not like.

“How have you been? You’ve grown so much!” Instinctively, your hands reach for his face, cradling it while attempting to restrain yourself from pinching his cheeks. You’ve already overstepped by touching him. Instead you give him an awkward giggle and the following words. “What happened to my little Jisungie? You’re even taller than last time.” Jisung can sense your desire to grab him and handle him like you used to but for some reason you’re holding back.

‘Please, please don’t deny me this. Touch me, hug me, pinch me… Just please touch me…’ Jisung wants to blurt out. He’s been starving for years and he finally has you before him, so why won’t you feed him? Don’t be so gluttonous, please…

Jisung won’t voice any of it, he opts to nod with that same gummy smile that you love. “Growth spurt, stuff like that.” He attempts to sound nonchalant but he’s so giddy that he can’t contain himself. You read him like a book.

“So, uh… What are you doing here? I never thought I’d see you in my town.” He questions, scratching his head. You’ve always been a good eight hours away from him, meeting him halfway for camp. Six if you count Chenle’s birthday party in ‘81 in which his parents paid for everyone’s transportation.

Your hesitance doesn’t go unnoticed by him but he wont prod. He’s content with having you near, he thinks so. He’ll be sure to start throwing quarters into the fountain for granting him this wish at least.

“Work actually,” You hum, body swaying while you nod. “Oh, right! Jaemin mentioned you got a job, congrats!” He celebrated with genuine happiness but the inkling of curiosity never left him.

‘Please talk to me. Please say more, I crave your voice. Please, I’m too malnourished, can’t you see?

“Did he?”

��That was about it. You know how vague he can be.”

You hum and nod again. This awkward cycle frustrating and hurting him.

Jisung has not spent the past six years missing you for this encounter to be short lived. He’s aware six years was a long time ago and he’s definitely lost contact with other friends but they’ve never mattered the way you do and there’s no way he’s going to waste this opportunity.

“Hey, why don’t we catch up, yeah?” He clutches his arm, swinging a bit and lips puckering before pressing them tightly amongst each other. Your immediate reluctance is easily spotted and it only makes him ache more. He’s not sure what has elicited this behavior but whatever it is, he’ll kick himself over it when you’re not around.

“I don’t know, Ji… I have a report to work on.” You avoid his gaze, knowing that the second you see his pleading eyes you’ll cave in. He knows that too and he knows that if he makes his voice a tad bit squeaky, you’ll begin to crack. You always do.

“Y/n-ie, please…” He tilts his head, crouching to meet your gaze. His big round eyes glistening either from the lights, his own natural charm, or the tears that will spill if you pay him no mind. He doesn’t mean to pout but when his lower lip involuntarily juts out you let out a defeated noise through your teeth followed by grabbing his cheeks and stroking them softly, uttering a “Fine, fine!” to satiate his nerves and your own craving of touching his face like you once did.

His grandma can wait, it’s not like she’ll even use the cookware set any time soon.

“What were you even doing back there?” You break the silence, both walking towards the exit. Without you looking, he tosses a quarter out of gratitude into the fountain when passing by. He swears he can see the tiles gleam and let out satisfied clinks. They’re just as thankful.

With a hand to the back of his neck, he laughs softly. Head turning to you with excuses in mind yet he opts to tell the truth. “I like to pretend it’s my own kitchen whenever I go in there.” He laughs embarrassedly to which he is received with a silent ‘cute’ and observing look.

He’s glad he distracted you but it also feels like a backhanded compliment. Adorable. RIght, that’s what you still think of him.

“By the way. Do you mind grabbing a drink instead? Not a huge fan of coffee… Unless you want to of course.” Jisung suggests, putting his gloves on once both reach outside. He notices your lack of scarf and undoes his while you contemplate an answer. Halting your train of thought when he wraps it around you which ends up making you blurt out a “Sounds good!” in return.

It’s no surprise that the car ride was full of silence but at least the radio muffled your thoughts and hopefully his own if he had any regarding the atmosphere. There was a part of him that grew resentful and hurt with the lack of conversation but the greater part was ecstatic to have you so near. This is what he’s dreamt and wished for for years and he finally has it. He does not plan on wasting any millisecond of both your times.

Jisung wasn’t an avid drinker and did not know much about alcohol besides what his friends have shown him. His parents didn’t drink and his grandmother would shove a can of miller high life onto his hand if he ever spoke more than his usual five sentences. The way parents shove a bottle into a crying baby’s mouth to put it to rest. Why did he request a drink instead, though? Simply to gain some courage. Lord knows he’ll need it if things keep going the way they’ve been.

The place he took you to wasn’t that different from the ones you’ve been to during your college days. With ugly stained yellow walls, dart boards and old decorations hanging on them. Wooden columns covered in thick layers of resin as were the counters and tables. Grumpy beer-bellied bar tenders arguing over the football game playing on screen right now with already drunk customers. Yeah, not ideal for a first date but the only bar he knew. The only piece worth being valuable a signed poster of James Hunt.

What the hell was James Hunt doing in this fuck ass town?

He let you go in first upon finding a booth hidden in the back of the bar. Far more darker and cozier at this end. Perhaps due to the lack of distance he kept between you two when he himself slid in, his arm instinctively resting on the backrest of the booth around your head. The need to simply wrap it around your shoulders killing him.

“Pretty cold out there, right?” Jisung began, removing his gloves and jacket, shoving ghe former in the pockets. You didn’t turn to him, responding with a hum as you remove the scarf. He frowns at this, slumping against the backrest, watching you look through the standee with all drink names.

“What are you ordering, Jisung?” He hadn’t thought about it, more immersed in hearing your voice. Either Way he didn’t know a single brand of alcohol, ‘Lite’ the only word in relevance to alcohol that he knew. “You choose, I’m fine with whatever.” He diverts, leaning closer to you to read the alcohol options.

Though, as if you could read minds, you turn to look at him. A soft smile with narrowed eyes focusing on him. “Are you sure you want to drink? We can get something else, I don’t mind.” You suggest, expression relaxing now seeing how easily he reacted.

“Yes! I mean no! No, I would really like a drink, unless you want something else.” Jisung tumbled through his words. The bashful look on his face raises your lack of restraint in grabbing and handling him the way you’ve done so many years ago. Oh how truly adorable he remains. Although, he’s gotten quite handsome. Too handsome for his own good.

“Okay,” You nod, fingers ghosting over his cheek to reassure him– never touching, just yet.

Raising your hand to call a bartender over, one of the two begrudgingly stroll to your table. Tossing a worn out and smelly towel over his shoulder, he gives both of you a look as if to hurry up and order. With reluctance and indignance, you scoff. “Two blackberry smashes. Whiskey in both.”

“We ain’t got that stuff here.” His mannerisms were comical and absurd. As if he was angry that a request was made but also so nonchalant, so careless for your presence. More interested in going back to his game.

“Fine, two pints of your house beers, tap and two shots of your cheapest tequila. ” Jisung thinks your voice now matches the arrogance and annoyance of the bartender. He sort of likes it, it reminds him of the times you yourself had defended him against snobs at camp.

The balding bartender grunts as a response, sounding like an okay before leaving. “Swear, it’s like he's being held at gunpoint to work here, Jesus.” You shake your head, attitude dropping when you notice his reddened cheeks. Curse him and his presentable fondness. “Oh I’m sorry, Ji. Was I being mean?” Your body turns to him, hand clutching his out of habit. Jisung smiles at the contact, looking at it briefly before looking at you. “No, you were perfect.” He utters, reveling in your touch.

You smile at him, embarrassed. Something that he takes with pride. “You never told me what you were cooking up in that kitchen, you know.” You aim to divert the focus. He chuckles at it, “Caldo de Callo. I heard it on TV, I think the host said it was a Spanish dish. Never had Spanish food.” He sounded so proud yet clueless at the same time. Though, you tilt your head, lips parting and closing the further your eyebrows furrow. He hears you hum and finally ask, “Do you mean Caldo Gallego?”

Jisung can see you stifle a laugh when his face begins to feel insanely hot, scorching even. Embarrassment written all over his face that he has to bury them in his sleeve-covered hands, groaning into them about how stupid he sounded. If only he knew that what he originally said translated to ‘callous soup’.

Endearing is the word you’d call it though. Endearing he is with his crescent shaped eyes and shamed pout. Endearing are the whines and groans he lets out when you can’t seize your giggles. He thinks about telling you to stop but doesn’t, your noises far more prettier and enjoyable even if at the expense of his misery.

“It’s okay, Jisungie.” You elongate his name, “It sounds similar, don’t fret too much!” You giggle, petting his hair as one does a child trying to comfort them. He enjoys your touch but doesn’t enjoy the slight patronizing tone to your voice. He’s not sure if he can call it patronizing because he’s aware there’s no malice intent behind your words but it did sound condescending in the way those speak to their juniors and he was tired of you treating him like one the longer the night progressed.

Jisung huffs, sighing when his head touches the table. He turns to look at you momentarily, distracted when your drinks arrive. He hears a few forced thank you’s and sarcastic my pleasures. Your feud with the bartender is amusing but not for this time. Right now he wants to focus on this sentiment brewing in his chest.

He gives you one last glance before reaching for the shot glasses. “To seeing each other again?” Such a simple question that made you hum pensively. You don’t deny it, clinkling your glasses together before dowing the burning liquor. With the taste of battery acid buring your throat, Jisung on the other hand clutches his throat, spitting it out onto a bundle of napkins.

You find him so agonizingly cute that your hands begin to ache to touch him and squeeze the life out of him. How adorable can someone be?! “Oh Jisungie… Tequila isn’t for everyone.” You tut, shaking your head. “Perhaps I should order you some apple juice to soothe that, yeah?”

Your giggle makes his ears ring, that same gnawing feeling that you're mocking him consuming him. He knows you’re not doing it on purpose. That you truly care for his wellbeing but is he truly that easy to perceive as naive and childish that you won’t see him as more? Sure, he didn’t like the tequila but so what? It was their cheapest one. If it had been a bit more expensive, then he’s sure he would have drank it as easy as you. He’s not a kid, why won’t you see that?

Jisung doesn’t voice it though, sighing while redirecting the conversation. “Were you doing some last minute shopping back at the mall?” He questions, obvious discontent and melancholy in his voice. You let it be, nodding as a response before shaking your head when you register the question. Too enthralled with how pretty he looks like this. Face flushed from the alcohol and embarrassment. So cute, so adorable, so perfect. Your Jisungie.

“No, no, actually I went with intentions to watch a movie but the cinema won’t play the movie I wanted to watch so I was on my way out when I saw you through the window doing your little thing.” Your giggle sends him into orbit. He feels lightheaded. Your words weren’t laced with judgment but fondness, he’s thankful for it this time.

“What movie?” Jisung attempts to act as if you didn’t affect him.

“Uh…” Your hesitance piques his interest. “Sex, Lies, and Videotape.” Well it seems that it’s you who is embarrassed now. He takes it, smiling to himself. “Gee, I wonder why they wouldn’t screen this at a regular movie theater.” He giggles, wiping the corner of his mouth when he feels some leftover alcohol residing there.

“Okay now, I had just gotten out of a meeting. My brain was not fully cooperating.” He giggles some more, his teeth now clutching his sleeve. “Honestly, why would a movie like that interest you?” You smile at him, the rim of your beer glass pressing against your lips. “James Spader.”

Jisung rolls his eyes, a scoff leaving his lips while he himself takes a sip of his beer. It’s unrefined and messy. The way the lager alcohol slips down the corner of his mouth and slicks his lips when he places it down. You watch it all through the window of your own, taking slow sips to admire his silent tantrum. He’s never been fond of James Spader. Or any other man you’ve mentioned.

“He’s not all that, you know.” Jisung mutters with a pout, leaning against the backrest. You don’t laugh like you intended. You simply acknowledge him through the handkerchief you pull out of your pocket to softly wipe the residue of beer before it becomes sticky on his skin. He can taste the flavor of your black cherry lip gloss when you swipe it over his lips.

Such an intimate moment prompts him to take a grasp of your free hand, playing with your fingers like he’s done before. “Oh please. He’s the perfect blend of sensible and… manly.” Jisung can only guess you’re thinking of James Spader with the way you bite your lower lip and narrow your eyes. A lustful sigh escapes your nostrils which serves as confirmation to his inquiry.

Seemed like a bunch of bullshit, if you were to ask Jisung what he thought. If you wanted those qualities then why didn’t you realize how perfect Jisung was? Maybe he’s being a little self absorbed or malleable to your desires but so what? He’ll do anything to make you look at him.

Furrowing his eyebrows, dropping your hand and pointing at his chest, Jisung spoke. “I’m sensible and manly!” It sounded more whiny than he expected which would prove to throw off whatever result he wished for. Of course it would, your laugh seems to provide an answer to such.

“I don’t know about the latter…” Your hum upsets him more.

“I am!”

“I don’t know. Just look at how cute you look pouting like that…”

Jisung huffs, upset at your continuous dismissiveness. Must you always remind him of his inferiority? What must he do if you won’t see that he’s a grown man now?

“I am, I’ll prove it to you.” His tone must have sounded significantly bratty that you receive it with patronization. Sarcastically telling him to prove it then if he was so manly.

So he did. He did in the way his large hands cradled your face, warming up your cheeks although that might be from the immediate heat his actions spurred. He proves it through his stealthy moves, bringing his face closer to yours in which he allows his lips to ghost over yours for milliseconds before finally connecting them.

Shocked is what you would describe this feeling clinging onto your chest. Never in a million years would you have thought about kissing Jisung. Sure, you’ve kissed his cheeks and forehead in the past, but that’s what friends do with someone they find adorable and innately drawn to. Jisung has always been hard to avoid, even if you wanted to, one look in those glistening round eyes and you’d submit to his every wish. Everyone does.

His lips moved with inexperience, soft and slow but uncoordinated with no idea where to go from there. His internal debates made obvious when he would part his lips for a second before going back to what seemed like peppered pecks. The way dolphins kiss. You wonder if this is his first kiss or how he kisses overall. If so, you’re only sorry that it’s so miserable.

Jisung eventually determines that he should stop. Either from shame at how uneventful it was or, well, simply because it was uneventful. Rather you two stare at each other for what felt like ages. His confidence is dying down along with your shock. By now both reverting back to your usual personas which meant that he shyly tried to look around without breaking eye contact and you, sternly looking at him without blinking much in order to gain answers.

He sighs knowing this was a lost cause. Rubbing the back of his neck, his body shifts to face you more than before. “Why haven’t you sent me any letters? Why are you ignoring me, Y/n?...” Jisung hates how easy it is for him to transmit his emotions onto his voice. While he hates to sound whiny, he would prefer that over the hurt that enveloped every single syllable he’s spewed out. What he hates more is that he’s not able to shut his mouth. “You have my home number, you have my address. Why haven’t you replied to my letters?”

“Jisung…”

“No! Please tell me.” God, how he hates how dismissive you can be, “I’ve been waiting for you for years. Please give me something, anything.”

Jisung’s face contorts the longer he begs, his lips reddening and puffing more than normal. His cheeks are ravished by that harsh crimson that warms them, borderline scorching. His voice, now a mixture of hurt but whiney that makes you shift at how uncomfortable you are that it spurred something in your chest, now traveling down to your abdomen. You really want to slap yourself for this.

Your Jisungie. Your sweet Jisungie, you idiot!

“I’m sorry, Ji. I was busy with my discretion and didn’t have time for anything. Then I graduated and it was a bloodbath to even get a job right out of college. I mean, I almost threw myself to the sharks and contemplated going to a convent. Can you imagine? All my hard work wasted. Then this year…”

Almost like a child that should have not spoken, Jisung raises an eyebrow when you reach for your beer glass, using it as a shield to make you stop talking. He grew increasingly irritated by your silence. “This year what, Y/n?!”

He’s never spoken to you like this which raises concerns with how you don’t mind it. In fact, you surprisingly invite it, although in minimal quantities. Seeing as there was no way out of it, you sigh, shoulders slumping. “Then this year I saw your mom at the film store around Easter. We were both picking up pictures and we talked for a bit until I asked about you and she said that you had a girlfriend. That I should probably be conscious that not all girls are comfortable with their boyfriend being so close to other girls. That she wouldn’t take kindly to seeing me send you letters so often, let alone pictures…”

Jisung has never been angry at his mother. Sure, irritated and hurt. But never angry, which seems to be a feeling he never thought he’d harbor for the woman that has given him life and all the love a child deserves. He knew his mom wasn’t too keen on his infatuation on you, he’s not sure if it’s for the difference in age or weary of someone she hasn’t fully met besides a few encounters on drop-off and pick-up day at camp.

He always imagined that she would come around once she truly met you, so why was she trying to sabotage him on something he’s been begging every single deity for?!

“So, if you have a girlfriend, why the hell did you just do that, Jisung?” The disgust and confusion in your voice made him feel far more awful than he already was. Appalled would probably be a greater feeling, though. He’s made sure to let you know that with the harsh ‘what?!’ that spews out of his lips like a hymn.

“What the fuck? I’ve never had a girlfriend. Jesus fucking Christ, why would she say that?” He questions the latter to himself, unaware that he’s confessed his inexperience to you (as if it wasn’t noticeable); shifting his attention to you shortly after. “Why would you believe her in the first place? I’ve never looked at anyone but you! Why won’t you see that?”

It’s not his grasp on your shoulders that startles you but rather the sincerity in his confession. Never in a million years did you think you’d be hearing these words from Jisung. The fuzziness in your chest adds to that shock which confuses you and at the same time disgusts you.

Jisung is far more perceptive than you had thought, “Please… It’s been you since the summer we met…” He goes back to pleading, his grasp softening. Kneading your arms as to beg for contact on your end. You hate how much this is luring you into whatever he wants. You’ve never been able to say no to him, yet again these found feelings are clashing with those you’ve fostered since you met him.

It’s vile and conflicting to see him in such a sweet light. As your junior who’d you do anything for, to… this incessant needy and lovestruck man that keeps begging for an ounce of affection in any form possible. If it was for Jisung he’d be on his knees kissing the sole of your shoe as long as you get to tell him you love him the way he loves you.

You sigh, contemplating on what to do or what to feel. “I don’t know, Jisung.” You huff conflicted. You’ve always been like a little br–” His hand covers your mouth before you can even finish your sentence. His eyes tremble and you realize that he’s much closer than he had been. “Don’t finish that. Please don’t ever say that again…” He begs and begs. Either it be his words, the way his eyes look at you, or his body language.

“I’m twenty-two, I’m taller than my own older brother or any of the friends we made in camp. I can drink and smoke if I want. I’m a man now, Y/n. Not that scrawny squeaky voiced kid you met long ago. I don’t need you to see me like that. So please… erase that from your brain and see me as I am now.”

You don’t know if you hate him or yourself at the moment. You’ve never been one to reject change, in fact you welcome it but it’s different when it comes to the image of people you like. Fuck it, you’re even upset at how deep you’re thinking about this when within a few minutes you might think this is stupid and unserious.

“If age is the problem, don’t let it get to you. We don’t even have a disgusting gap. For goodness sake, we were in the same group classifications every year at camp and Mark had already hit the group limit. That should be enough to get you out of whatever hellhole you’re digging yourself into.”

See? Eventually things could turn so unserious and with the sound of his voice, rather bratty and accusatory. “Do you not like me, is that it? Do you not find me desirable?” He questions, head nodding to incentivize an answer from you. He almost makes it seem natural and you wonder how many times he’s done this before. Push people’s buttons until he gets an answer. You suppose he truly has grown.

The Jisung you last knew would never whine for something like this. All he had to do was say please with a pout and he’d get what he wanted. Far more innocent and civilized. This was crude, erotic, and mocking. You expect him to give you a cheshire smile when he gets what he wants in comparison to his gummy one full of appreciation.

Yes, he’s no longer a boy. He’s now a sweetly cunning man.

“It’s not that.” You blurt out, cursing yourself at the admittance that he has more of a chance than either of you could’ve thought. Expectedly, that cheshire smile presents itself slowly. Sultrily, he speaks. “Then what is it?” He whispers, lips to your ear as his hands create a path down your upper body.

The words hang heavy on your tongue, distracted by his touch. Finding his large hands more pleasurable than you could’ve thought. “I actually don’t know…” You confess sincerely, eyelids fluttering when they land on your knee, fingers padding over the clothed flesh. Contemplating on whether to stay where they are at or slide up.

Ecstatic by your bodily response, he smiles sweetly. Whispering in your ear, “Let me prove it to you… Let me erase that image of me you have, please…” He begs, lips trailing to your cheek, a blazing trail branding your skin. When they reached your lips, you couldn’t deny him the wonders of being kissed in return.

You both sigh into the kiss the second they perfectly slot into each other. It’s slick and wet, albeit, much more pleasurable than his first one. This one you’re able to enjoy the delicacy of those plump red lips that envelope yours and leave a delicious sting that makes you crave for more.

Your hands paw at his sweater, drawing him closer to feel his warmth. He takes this opportunity to let his hands roam up your thighs, massaging the insides until he decides that he won’t wait and lets his hand crawl to the hem of your skirt. His hands –scorching– against your skin when he manages to pull down your tights. Bunching them around your knees and covering your legs with his jacket.

He smiles into the kiss when he feels you react to his feather touches. Taunting the idea of touching you further. He’s not too cruel though, not when this is what he’s wanted for so long. Therefore, he decides to reward both of you by letting his fingers go under your panties, the cotton feeling like heaven against his knuckles. He revels in the feeling of your wetness clinging to the fabric. Cooling against his skin while he lets his fingers waltz up and down your folds. Contemplating what their next move will be, unpreoccupied since you seem to enjoy whatever he is currently giving you. He can see it with the way your eyelids flutter and the kiss grows hungrier, needier. This is all he truly wanted.

Jisung decides to not taunt you any longer. He’s never wanted to upset you. Allowing his fingers to softly part your lips, twisting his ring clad middle finger and inserting the long digit into you. They felt so cold within your walls, forcing a gasp to leave your lips. He took that opportunity to muffle it with his tongue the second it intruded the cavity of your mouth.

The muscle, surprisingly strong as it dances along with yours, savoring the delicacy of your taste. This is overshadowed by the spasm of your legs the slower he pumped his finger into you. Molding your walls to the ribs of his nimble and spindly digits. Your pleasure is exerted through sighs and hungry kisses which he consumes all you give him. He thinks this is enough incentive to insert a second finger. This time his ring finger, quickly adapting it to the movement of the other one. It’s nice to feel the contrast between his warm acclimated finger to the cold shorter one.

His fingers move slowly, picking up the pace when he decrees that you deserve more pleasure than he currently grants you. He’s driven by the way you cling to him, hands going under his sweater and clutch his sides, fingernails softly taking the warm flesh. Jisung finds it delicious how you cling to him the way your walls grip to his fingers. Sucking him in and keeping them in place whenever he thinks of even taking them out without making you come first.

Neither speak but the silent mewls that leave your lips is enough to let him know he’s doing something good. He’s proven right when you softly nip at his swollen lips, sucking on the lower one, resulting in him releasing a shaking breath.

You will be the death of him.

Jisung found that he loved how you look when you writhe in pleasure in his arms. He thinks you look otherworldly with the way your lips part to release those sweet chants he has recorded in his brain. Enticing when your tongue sticks out to cling to his and his lips just to know he’s still there making you feel better than you’ve felt in a while. He knows you're ready when you gnaw at his lips and jaw, holding to the back of his neck as your lips trail as hungrily as his, prior. Leaving a trail of rouge that he wishes to seep into his skin like a tattoo.

When he feels your teeth cling to his jugular, he can’t help but let out a guttural moan, thankful at how secluded this booth was. His fingers reward that feeling by moving faster, his thumb rubbing delicate yet quick circles on your clit. At some point he felt scared that your cunt would swallow his rings with every clench around his fingers. You were so close and all he felt was pride and gratification that it was him that was making you feel this way.

Fuck, he could explode in his pants right now.

“Jisungie…I can’t hold back anymore.” You pant, leaving open mouthed kisses along his Adam's apple. Tongue roaming and savoring the saltiness of his skin taut on his clavicles.

He’s no one to make you suffer and not get what you want. Instinctively, his fingers pick up the pace, pushing them as far as he can. Curling them and covering your mouth when the volume of your prayers increase. Swallowing them whole when he connects his mouth with yours, luxuriating in the sybaritism of your orgasm through your kiss and spasming legs.

It takes you a minute to calm down, panting softly. Jisung looks down at you with a pleased smile, his fingers still in you, pruning by the second but he doesn’t mind. He sighs constantly, kissing you softly this time. It’s sweet and tender, similar to the first one he gave you with the difference that your cooperation makes it run smoothly.

When he parts, his fingers slowly ease out, causing you to shudder. You feel so empty and cold at the lack of his touch. Rewared only by the mere fact that he prods your lips with his ring finger, slowly entering your mouth. You savor yourself on him, tongue running along the underside, lingering on his finger pad.

No one has ever done this for you. Look at and treat you like you’re their whole world despite the lewd scenery.

His finger slips far more slick from your lips than it had entered your mouth. He takes them up to his own, running them along like a brush on the most pristine parchment. Letting its ink sink into the grooves and cement itself for eternity.

Biting your lower lip, you examine the way he takes both fingers into his mouth. Pupils blown out once he’s fully swallowing the taste of you in all forms. He knew you were perfect but this is beyond that. This is an exquisiteness he’s never savored before. He will never be satisfied again.

Jisung leans down making you think he was to kiss you again. The reality was that your essence was more inebriating than the shot of tequila and the pint of beer sitting on the table before him that he had to have a taste of the fruit directly.

In swift motions, he moves his jacket from your legs, shoving your skirt up and letting it fall over his head. Despite the awkward angle, Jisung managed to swipe the tip of his tongue against your slick cunt. The muscle parting your lips and forcing a gasp out of you.

It’s a mixture of shock and pleasure. He was shameless and that made it so hot and intoxicating, yet fear was consuming you. Forcing you to take a grasp at the back of his neck and pull him up with as much delicate force as you could muster. Like a starving kitten, parted from its mother’s tit, Jisung fetches your lips.

He looks so pretty and so stupid. So drunk and starved for you. The feeling so obvious in his hazy eyes and wet lips from your come that he has yet to lick or press against your own. You give him the latter, kissing him to satiate his need for just a bit. Biting his lower lip to calm him down.

“Don’t be so greedy, Jisung.” You scold against his lips, removing your mangled and wet tights and shoving them into your pocket. He cries like a kicked puppy but nods, getting out of the booth and helping you out knowing you’ll look like a newborn deer after his filthy handling.

Neither of you pay any mind to the cashier that takes in the payment. Weary eyes scanning you both and scoffing without questions. It’s not his first rodeo.

Drunk in a daze, Jisung doesn’t question when you give him directions. He expected it to be a hotel, one you should be staying at for work. It dawns upon him that it’s your apartment when he sees you punch in the entry code.

You’ve been so close all this time and he doesn’t knows how to take it. It’s evident in the look he gives you when you both enter the apartment and he looks around. His lips parting to question it but being shushed by your lips and hands tugging at the hem of his sweater to pull it off his body. Leaving him bare and goosebump filled before you.

“Not now…” you whisper against his chest, kissing his torso and pecks, nipping his nipple. You can talk about reality once you’re finished.

Jisung sighs but welcomes the feel of your lips and touch all over him. His own fingers unbutton your coat and cardigan, pushing them off simultaneously to make his fingers crawl to your back and unclasping your bra.

He withers and hunches over when your hands push down his pants, grasping his hard and leaking cock through his briefs. The wet spot ironically forming a heart. His Lip part, erotically to let out breathy gasps and pants. For this, you kiss him like he once did. Invading his mouth with your own tongue, holding his face in your hands, making sure he makes no effort in separating until both you feel the air escaping your bodies.

In the process, both of you manage a waltz in ridding of the remaining clothes. Kicking off any shoes and underwear, leaving each other bare in the middle of your living room. If he was given the time to admire it more, he’d tell you that it was truly what he expected of you— positively.

Instead he’s eating you alive, carnivorously gnawing at your lips in hopes to draw blood. An act that you embrace and let him do as he pleases. Simply because you’ll return the favor with as much fervor that you both will let the crimson paint itself on your lips the way your rogue has marked his skin.

When air finally did what you expected it to do, Jisung connects his forehead against yours. Both panting and drawing your bodies flush against each others. He grins seeing the little number he did against your lips, the cracks of them full like a dried up river during dry seasons. If only he knew he looked the same.

“Eat me… take your time in consuming me…” you implore, the words playing over and over in his brain as he pushes you down on the couch. Dropping to his knees without a care of what your neighbor on the bottom floor will say or if his palid knees will bruise instantly. For you, he’ll writhe in pain.

Jisung wastes no time, he separates your legs and throws them over his shoulders. His head delves in between the pretty image of your cunt and clings his lips around it fully. His lips suctioning while his tongue teases your entrance. His grasp on your inner thighs is a bit harsh but pleasurable enough that you’ll enjoy seeing the marks he’ll leave on them tomorrow.

He’s fueled more by your sweet words and the tugs at his raven hair by your fingers that curl on the locks. It feels much better when your nails scratch his scalp and for that he sucks on your clit. Incentive or reward, they’re interchangeable.

“Ah!… take your time…” you moan, head thrown back and giving him a pretty image of the expanse of your neck and the way your nipples perk. You look so heavenly that he knows it’s blasphemous. The way the overhead light shines behind your head, creating a glowing halo and he’s glad that it’s Sunday for this is his mass and holy communion. His mother should not dislike you after this.

Jisung lets his tongue roam around your cunt, savoring every crevice, picking up every single drop that spills from you. Be it that no one has ever paid such devotion to your mound, your legs begin to shake around his head. Your hands cling to his hair and pull him closer and closer to the point his nose manages to create a pleasurable pressure against your clit.

This is no problem for him. He lavishes himself in your taste and smell, moaning against you to create further sensitivity which is appreciated and you reward him by coming almost immediately when he lays his tongue flat on you to lick down and enter deep into you.

A slew of moans leave your lips but his name is the one you scream out. “Jisung, Jisung, Jisung.” Oh how well has conforming paid him off. For this he leans back on his feet, hands rubbing his thighs and teasing his own sensitive cock as he watches you writhe on the soiled couch. A lake of your come seeping into the faux leather, shimmering as its reflection on his lips, nose, and chin. How beautiful you both look.

Animalistically and greedily so, Jisung dives back in. This time pulling your body further down the couch. Leaving you limp and folded while he raises your hips and clings to them. He’s more messy and filthy about it this time around. He allows his lips to suck harshly and lick as consolation just to softly bite your clit and make you cry out masochistically.

Hypersensitivity, a force that travels in the form of your loud moans and cries. That’s what fuels him and it feels so sadistic but he indulges himself at least this once. He’s hopeful it won’t be the only time but for now he will enjoy it as it is.

He can hear you begging to please let you finish. That you don’t have it in you to last long anymore but he doesn’t relent just yet. Not when his hips buck forward and shudder with every grace of his cock against the leather of your couch. It’s so cold and harsh that it hurts but it also feels so good that he can’t help but be excited at how your soft and warm walls will soothe his dick like ointment to a wound.

That seems more exciting, yes.

All right, Jisung will please you once more. He kisses your cunt softly, long and languid velvet like kitten licks to push you further. His own rutting is much slower which proves to be a painful decision for he can’t control himself when his abdomen cramps up and painfully moans against your chest as he stands up to release all over your swollen and irritated cunt.

The feeling of his come feels like boiling water spilt on an open wound. It makes you come for the third time this night, the feeling increasing when he hums hungrily as he rubs his come in a sheer layer, ointment to your ache. The remaining that stuck to his hand, on his cock, rubbing up and down to suffer that same overstimulation at his own hands. This is his solidarity for what he’s caused you.

Tired and panting, Jisung takes a seat beside you. Caressing your face while trying to regain some stamina. You’re so spent that you lean into his touch, kissing his soiled hand and licking the saltiness off of it to savor him the way he has you.

Fuck… that’s making his dick twitch.

“Pure nectar from the forbidden fruit.” Jisung leans into your ear, kissing your cheek softly as he helps you onto his lap. You whine but ultimately allow him for there’s one more thing he can offer you and you need it.

His fingers are soft when they touch your entrance. It’s so soft and so warm, he can only imagine how sensitive you are. The image makes him moan softly against your ear. Your head resting on his shoulder and your arms wrapped around his torso. Limp yet so needy against his body. The body heat between both creates a layer of perspiration that travels from that connection onto your entire body.

Jisung rubs your back in soothing circles, leaving peppered kisses onto your hair and inhaling the scent of your shampoo. He inhales and exhales like his life depended on it, kiss after kiss after kiss.

“You’ve always been so good to me, Y/n. Do you like how I’m thanking you?” He hums, lifting your face with a finger on your chin. “Yes…” you sincerely confess in a breath, returning the favor with a slow kiss that allows your tongues to finally explore and examine each other the way you both are doing. By any form, you two will always find a way to please each other.

“And, I think I should keep going so you can fully understand how much I like you and have liked you…” he mutters in between kisses, his tongue shoving the words down your throat so you’ll digest them immediately.

You can only nod, feverishly and with a shiver down your spine when he holds your lower back, helping you up while the tip of his cock rubs slowly against your folds. You can tell it’s helping him get hard. His flaccid cock rapidly hardens with every stroke, his breathing increases and comes out shaky against your ear. It doesn’t help that you’re kissing his throat like you were back at the bar with the exception that they’re less hungry and far more passionate.

“Can I fuck you, Y/n?” He begs, eyes droopy in a plea. If it wasn’t because of how he’s holding you, you’d be sure his hands would be together in a prayer. You hum, pretending to contemplate when your answer had been decided long ago.

“I don’t know…” you tease. God only knew his abhorrence of those stupid three words. He’ll make sure to knock them out of your vocabulary if you say yes. For now, like the brat he is, he shakes and writhes, tantrum-like while his words come out in elongated whines.

“Please, Y/n…” he cries out, his grasp on you tightening slightly. You hum again but you don’t speak, basking in the pretty sounds he makes when he doesn’t get what he wants.

“You can’t feed me and then starve me… I’ll go crazy if I don’t taste you again.” He pleads, lower lip jutting out and letting his face get closer to yours. He’s so pretty like this that you can’t help but concede.

With a giggle you nod, “Very well then.” You tell him, kissing his cheek. The sweet act is gone when he lowers you down on his hard cock. You had seen it moments prior but hadn’t registered that the stretch would sting like this. It’s not bad, matter of fact it feels so fucking good… and it doesn’t help that he’s long enough that you feel him in your stomach.

“Ji…” You moan out in parts, eyelids fluttering as he bottoms out. Jisung sucks in air through his teeth when he feels your ass on his balls, squishing them and begging them to please you. That is something that he will hear out anytime.

Your voice sends him a whirlwind, “Give me your hand.” You request from him. If it wasn’t for the sheer fact that you wanted him to see and feel what he was doing to you, you’d spend more time admiring his large hands. Seeing them this way, you can understand how he made you come perfectly.

Leaning back causes you to squish his testicles further. A moan leaves his lips hungrily as he admires you through hooded lids, his head thrown over the backrest. When he feels where you placed his hand, he snaps it up, admiring the prominent budge on your stomach and how warm it felt to be in you.

“See?” You ask in the sweetest tone, smiling at him. He returns it with a nod, caressing what he’s caused. Instinctively, he bucks his hips upward, a moan erupting from both your lips due to the friction and the image. It’s like a live painting being made before him.

“So pretty…” he coos, his fingers dancing around the imprint. His thrusts increase in pace, your head rolling back in pleasure. It’s not fair that he has to do all the work; holding onto your thighs, you begin moving up and down on his shaft.

His moans get louder and his hands roam your body like undiscovered land. Landing on your breast and squeezing them. Your own hands leave your thighs to help him in kneading, yelping when his fingers take a hold of your nipples to squeeze them. “You’re doing so good, Jisungie.” You praise, each word received with a hard thrust from him and a whine, thanking you.

“My Jisungie is so big now…” you moan, leaning down to capture his lips in a kiss, he holds your hips while increasing his pace. “Such big hands,” reaching for one, you kiss his palm before letting it fall to its initial spot.

“Such big pretty lips…” Your teeth nip his lower lip, reopening the cut from your earlier‘s cannibalistic game. “The most beautiful big eyes.” And with a drop of his blood on your lip, you kiss his eyelid. Eyelashes flutter upon feeling your warm moist flesh.

You attempt to sound just as tempting and sultry, but his thrusts along your hips hopping on his dick— your words leave out in broken moans and cries.

“And such a fucking big dick that will make my guts yearn for it again.”

Jisung’s eyes blow out, lips parting and licking off the blood from them. He allows himself to be vocal now. There’s no holding back when his hands grasp your ass and hold you in place. His hips move up rapidly, reaching deeper than he had previously. Your lower body stings from his handling, it doesn’t help that his testicles are slapping against you that creates an echo to play all over your living room.

You’re being fucked stupid that no coherent words attempt to leave you anymore. Anything that does are moans and cries which he swallows entirely when he grasps your jaw harshly to kiss you as messy and wettly as he did at the bar. There’s some teeth and so much tongue but neither care when the feeling of your walls molding around his cock, that they’ll forget how good his fingers initially made you feel.

He’s so swollen, you feel it with every thrust the same way he feels you grip him with no intention of letting go until you both get what you want. It’s such a perfect fit that makes his abdomen ache. He’s so ready and so are you.

“Finish… please, finish.” He begs, hips move messily and mindlessly. He’s so ready to be done but he needs you to come first. It’s not until he shifts and brings you closer that his mouth wraps around your tit. Hungrily kissing it like a starved animal. His teeth take no mercy in biting the skin around and your nipple, leaving indentations of his pretty teeth. At least you’ll have his smile engraved on you.

He continues on the second one, your nipples so hard that they ache from his sucking and biting. And when he feels the needs to insert two fingers in you while he fucks desperately with squelches imploring you both to finish, you can’t help but clamp around him with a loud moan erupting from your lips and coming around him. Fingers and cock.

Your cries don’t seize, they only increase when he himself spills within you. It’s so warm, almost hot and there’s so much that you can feel it run down the sides as he remains in you. Poor Jisung, he had been holding it for so long. Your poor little, Jisungie.

You squirm on top of him, shaking from the great orgasm. Something you hadn’t had since that one time you masturbated at nineteen. Thank you Jisung for being such a great sport.

“You know,” Jisung is the first to talk, swallowing. He was parched. “I’m so glad I waited for this.” He smiles tiredly, you giggle with a sigh but ultimately nod. “I’m sure other girls were satisfying enough.” You say, to which he shakes his head.

“No, I meant sex.” He confesses confidently until he coils in when he realizes what he’s said. Your surprised look only makes the feeling grow. “No way.”

He nods

“No way! There’s no way you fucked me this good with it being your first time!” You attempt to lean back to look at him but your body aches and it also decrees that it wants to cling to Jisung’s as much as it can so the most you muster is looking up at him.

It’s such a pretty image when you notice the bashful look on his face, crimson blush consuming his entire body. How he, out of custom, smiles and throws his head back with his index finger extended under his nose to cover his mouth. There’s your sweet Jisung.

You laugh quietly, hand going up to caress his hair. “So cute… you’ll always be my cute Jisungie.” The statement is received with a groan but ultimately, Jisung relents. Kissing you once more, refined and sweetly. He understand what you mean and he also understands that you mean it differently now. Therefore, he won’t dwell on it. Sure, you’ll always look at him in such a sweet image but now with the addition that he has proven to you how much he’s grown… as a man.

[anastasiabowe]

𝙍𝙄𝘾𝙃 𝙂𝙀𝙉𝙏𝙇𝙀𝙈𝘼𝙉 — As a broke college student, it’s not wrong to want a rich boyfriend! That doesn’t mean you’re a gold digger, or will stoop so low you will ruin your worth, it just means you want a man who will take care of you, and guess what? You found him.

note: this will be a 3 part series! First one I’ve ever made and may be my last! So please not too much on these writings! Luv you!

𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙏 𝙄 𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙏 𝙄𝙄 𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙏 𝙄𝙄𝙄

Content Warnings: language, suggestive content

Nanami is a man of morals. He usually keeps his hands and eyes to himself, he holds the door for anyone, women especially, he respects boundaries, and if anything that causes him to think inappropriately he will kindly excuse himself to make sure he doesn’t seem like a creep. But Nanami is just like any man.

Nanami longs for a lover, a wife. He desires children, a family. But in this cruel, sick world, he can’t find a woman who wants him for him. Nanami is one of the top 10 richest men on the planet, he not including himself, but his company in that title.

Every woman he has attempted to date tries to put on their best “I love you for your heart not your money!” act, but it slips the second they tell him “oh no! I forgot my wallet!”

Nanami knows every trick in the book, he knows the look women give him when they are impressed by his wealth, he knows the lip biting they do to show interest in his looks, he knows the voice and excuses they say to make him fall down to their feet, which he never once has done nor will do. He knows it all. So dating people that have seen him before he’s met them makes it all the more boring.

So, when Nanami’s friend, Haibara introduced him to dating apps, he obviously was shook.

“You really had no idea there were dating apps?” Haibara blankly looked at him. Nanami bit his thumb in uncertainty.

He grumbled a little “no.” And his friend smiled. “Then sign up! What can you lose? They don’t have to know what you look like.”

Nanami hated that idea. “No, I want them to know who I am.” His firm voice erased that idea completely from his friends plan.

“Well, 80% of this world knows who you are, that wish you want isn’t going to happen.” Nanami sighed knowingly, just tired from his sad lonely life.

“Haibara, thank you for this..” Nanami thought carefully of his words. “Great discovery, but I think it’s best you head home and I sleep on it.” Haibara understood, and firmly grabbed Nanami’s shoulder on his way out.

“You’ll find her, I know you will.” Nanami placed his hand firmly on Haibara’s in a thank you, and Haibara left.

After Nanami heard Haibara leave, he hurriedly sat down on his couch and opened the dating site.

“RICHTON THE DATING APP FOR THE WEALTHY!”

Nanami quickly laughed at the cringe advertisement, but it was a popular app, so something was working.

Nanami put in his information and had to choose which photos to put on his profile. He chose the first decent ones he could find, not caring too much about perfection, and he was brought up with the interests slide.

He clicked three random ones and pressed continue. The app asked to use his camera to verify his age and photos. Nanami positioned the camera to where it said to and he was verified. The app welcomed him to a very ugly woman.

Nanami had skipped the tutorial at the beginning and just swiped towards the X like he has seen on TV. This app was the definition of a gold diggers dream. Rich men pay to speak with women that aren’t even all that.

Nanami swiped and swiped towards the x. No woman looked like a decent women. They all looked like they seduce men or are prostitutes, maybe both. Nanami frowned seeing all the half naked women.

“Should I really be on this app?” He thought to himself. He continued to swipe, heart sinking each swipe to the left seeing women who don’t know their worth. Ass in the camera more than their face just to get a quick buck. Nanami swiped one more time ready to turn his phone off, and his thumb froze.

A girl with straight hair smiling in what seems to be senior photo. She was in a white summer dress posing in a daisy field. The beach was calm behind her and he couldn’t help but stare at her smile. She seemed so pure, so innocent and that was exactly what he was looking for. He swiped right on her profile and it opened up a message saying:

“YOUR FIRST MATCH! SEND HER A MESSAGE WITH THE AMOUNT YOU WOULD LIKE TO SEND!”

Nanami saw a text box and a drop box. The drop box has let Nanami type in the amount he would like to send. The minimum was 5 dollars. He typed in $100 and pressed on the text box.

His thumbs again froze. What should he say? Should he compliment her? Introduce himself? Nanami combined them. He typed.

“Hello, my name is Kento and I couldn’t help but be in absolute awe seeing your photos. You are absolutely beautiful.” He sent it without looking back, this was already hard enough.

Nearly instantly you saw his message and typed.

Y: “Oh my god, you did NOT have to send that much money!”

He imagined your voice as he read your message. He chuckled to himself like a madman and he started typing back.

N: “I wanted to, you are so beautiful, I couldn’t help myself.”

He nervously tapped his thumbs on the side of his phone waiting for your response.

Y: “I really do appreciate the compliment but $100 is too much, I can’t accept that!”

N: “Too late, I want you to have it, I want to talk to you.”

Y: “You can’t talk to me for free!”

N: “That’s not how this app works..?” Nanami was confused.

Y: “Oh, right.. I forgot you have to pay to chat.”

N: “Please don’t be alarmed by the money, I’m not running out anytime soon😂”

Nanami cringed at himself for using such an emoji, but he wanted you to feel at ease.

Y: “Thank you, you really didn’t have to though. I won’t stop saying that.”

N: “Then let’s change the subject. Why are you on this app?”

You saw his message but didn’t text back. Did he ask a triggering question? You soon started typing, and his nerves came back.

Y: “You know, a broke college student who needs a little extra cash😅”

He chuckled, for a girl who didn’t want a hundred bucks, that’s sure what she was looking for.

N: “Haha, so you won’t mind if I send more?”

Y: “Don’t send more! I’m not that broke😭”

Nanami smiled. He smiled as if you were really there. He imagined having this conversation with you and how hard you would make him laugh with your silly remarks.

N: “Don’t worry, I won’t 😂, but it’s not like you’re going to stop me.”

Y: “I’ll send it back😜✌🏾”

N: “I’ll send it back!”

Y: “And I’ll send it again, it will be a whole thing if you make it💀”

The fact you both were arguing over money is crazy, Nanami never argued with a woman about sending them money. They usually do a “oh no you don’t have to do that!” But will eventually accept. You on the other hand are just outright refusing. Nanami is now intrigued by you.

N: “If you won’t accept my money via here, how about dinner? I’ll pay, and I won’t argue about it when we get there.”

You again took your time typing, very obvious you are unsure.

Y: “Okay… but where are you tryna take me?”

N: “I was thinking…. Hermes?”

Y: “You’re joking!”

N: “What?”

Y: “I can’t afford that!”

N: “You’re not paying.”

Y: “Still, I can’t make you pay for that!”

N: “I want to pay for it, I eat there all the time.”

Y: “Not for two☹️”

N: “I’ve paid for 10.”

Y:“Kento..”

N: “Y/n, please. I want to meet you. You intrigue me, I’ve never met someone like you. I don’t want to seem like a begged, nor do I want to pressure you, but I would love to meet you and enjoy a nice dinner with you.”

Nanami felt desperate even though he just met you not even an hour ago.

The long response time again happened, and Nanami felt like he blew it. The once time he felt like he actually found someone worth the time, he blew it.

Y: “Okay.”

Nanami’s heart fluttered seeing your message.

N: “You will have dinner with me?”

Y: “Yes! I’ll have dinner with you😂”

Nanami felt like a little boy again. He hadn’t felt this excited to ask a girl out since never and it felt good.

N: “How does tomorrow sound? I know that’s soon, but it’s the only day my schedule isn’t busy.”

Y: “Yeah, tomorrow would be great!”

N: “Alright, I’ll see you then!”

Y: “See you!”

+

The next day Nanami felt different. His head was somewhere else, somewhere lighter, happier. He felt… excited? He wasn’t sure, he hasn’t felt this way until his first client offered him half a million dollars as he started his journey in this company.

Nanami played more upbeat music, very different from his normal taste, and he swayed and stepped with every beat to the song as he ironed his clothes. He had opened windows and instead of wincing from the sun hitting his eyes, he smiled.

“What a beautiful morning.” He thought to himself. Nanami must have been in a different place that he didn’t even know was so negative until now. He was looking forward to a dinner with someone. He hasn’t felt that way in years and he just wishes he could meet you right then and there.

Nanami nearly put on his freshly ironed clothes and grabbed his briefcase and blazer. He locked his garage door and headed straight to his black Porsche that he usually doesn’t drive, but today, why not?

Nanami drove to work with a smile on his face. Haibara greeted Nanami as he stepped out of his car and a valet stepped in for him.

“Good morning.” Nanami smiled and Haibara walked beside him.

“Good morning…” Haibara stared at Nanami’s face.

“Did something happen?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did you win the lottery? What’s got you so happy?”

“Haibara.” Nanami stopped and turned towards his friend, “Thank you.”

Haibara wanted to laugh, he didn’t even do anything, right?

“for what” Nanami smiled at Haibara.

“For showing me that ‘app’. I’m going to meet someone for dinner tonight.” Haibara smiled at Nanami.

“That’s great, Kento! What’s her name?”

“Y/n.”

“Hm, is she pretty?”

“Beautiful.”

“Is she rich?”

“Eh..”

“Is she young?”

“Kind of.”

“What do you mean by ‘kind of?”

“She’s… 20..” Nanami purses his lips waiting for Haibara’s reaction.

“20?!” His eyes were wide and he laughed. “You’re 34!”

“She’s very aware of my age.” Nanami said not amused by his friends reaction.

“I mean, hey, if a woman 14 years older than me asked me out, and she was hot, I’d go out worth her too.” Haibara threw his hands up in a ‘what can I say’ pose and Nanami rolled his eyes.

“We meet at 6, so I just need to get through today.” Nanami said more to himself. The happy facade started to break, and he felt the butterflies pool in his stomach.

He was nervous. He hasn’t been on a date with someone he actually wants to meet in over 10 years. He doesn’t remember how to be charismatic, he doesn’t remember how to be enticing and interesting. Work has been the only topic that’s been keeping his conversations alive. He doesn’t talk to anyone about anything personally other than Haibara and that is hard enough.

Haibara saw Nanami. He knew Nanami for nearly 6 years and this was the look of nervousness. He’s seen it countless times, but that’s only because he knows him. He can tell from the slight twitch in his jaw and the subtle fidgeting with his hands.

“Come on Nanami, let’s go to my office.” Nanami nodded and followed Haibara.

+

In Haibaras office, he gave Nanami tips.

“Now I have met countless women. Hard to believe, I know, and I know how to get them wanting more.” Nanami cringed at the thought of his good friend seducing women.

“I’m not trying to get anything from her, I just want to hold a conversation and hopefully get to know her more.”

“Alright, I got you.” Haibara walked over to his whiteboard and wrote “NANAMI’S FIRST DATE”

“This isn’t my first date, Haibara.”

“I know, but you’re acting like it is.”

Nanami nodded in agreement, and Haibara clapped his hands together.

“I have cancelled all meeting that require you to be there, and will have your secretary fill in for the ones that don’t. We have all day to get you ready for your date, alright?”

“Ok.” Nanami replied. Nanami felt silly sitting in the chair and listening to his younger friend teach him how to act right on a date. Nanami usually lets the women talk since he usually doesn’t care too much about them. He usually just lets his colleagues recommend a woman and set up a date. Nanami regrets every single dollar he wasted on the money thirsty women. But he wants to try with you. He wants to talk to you and let you talk. He wants to actually get to know you, maybe even go on more dates and hang out.

“Ok, first step. Do NOT let them talk the whole time. Even if they ramble, try and have a mutual conversation. Sometimes when they ramble, they think it’s because you aren’t interested and they will want to make sure you're still intrested” Haibara took in a huge breath, “OR they are nervous.”

Nanami nodded.

“You just have to read their body language.”

“Well, how will I know if they are nervous or not?”

“You’ll know. If they look around when talking, when they cover their face when talking, when they hold their hands in their lap, if they look tense, come on, you know what nervous looks like.”

Nanami nodded again.

“Use your words, this is practice. Don’t just nod your head,” Haibara mocked him by aggressively nodding his head “say things like ‘I agree’ or ‘I’m listening’ or ask them about whatever they’re talking about so they know you’re listening.”

“Okay.”

“And don’t just say ‘okay’.” Haibara mocked again. “Try and be more creative! Let’s practice.”

Haibara sat down in his seat and tried his best to look more feminine.

“So yeah, me and my friends went mini golfing and I didn’t know what to do so I just sat and watched them play.”

Nanami sat there. What did Haibara want him to say? Haibara looked at him, waiting for a response.

“Oh, well that is very sad.” Nanami said unsure. Haibara sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Yep, might as well pay the bill and leave.” Nanami sat there dumbfounded. What was he supposed to say?

“What should I have said instead?”

“Nanami, I can’t tell you what to say, but that would have sent her home crying. You sounded like you didn’t care. You should say something along the lines of ‘did you ever end up knowing how to play mini golf?’ That will at least let her know you’re listening.” Haibara stood up and sighed.

“We have a lot of work to do.”

+

After many hours of preparing, Nanami’s watch chimed. It was 5:30 and he needed to head home and change.

“Thank you Haibara, this was very helpful.” Nanami shook his friends hand and headed towards the front of the office.

“Don’t try too hard! Just let it come out naturally!” Haibara cakes out to Nanami. Nanami smiled back at his friend and Haibara sighed.

“Please don’t screw this up.”

[audreycritter]

every time i see a post talking about how alfred pennyworth failed bruce for not getting him into therapy as a kid i want to scream.

it did not exist. the idea that children could have PTSD was just starting to be discussed in the late 80s/early 90s at the FRINGE of child psychology, and then trauma therapy even for adults spent an unhelpful 2ish decades dominated by forced-conversation talk therapy. that's a thing that is detrimental to trauma recovery, because if someone doesn't feel safe or in control of the dialogue about their trauma and is repeatedly asked to describe their trauma when they're uneasy, it COMPOUNDS TRAUMA AND FEELINGS OF DANGER.

when bruce was a kid, even the best psychs available would have had training that taught them kids bounce back, that kids don't respond to or handle trauma the way adults do, and that any behaviors post-trauma were almost certainly unrelated mental illness.

i see this esp in fandom circles but a gentle reminder that therapy even when it's good doesn't fix everything. even if bruce had HAD access to good childhood PTSD therapy, he would still have grief, he would still potentially be socially awkward or withdrawn, he might have still decided to be Batman because it's a comic book where being a vigilante isn't as wild as it is irl.

therapy requires honesty, readiness, safety, sound application of theory, an accurate picture of life outside the therapy room (self-reporting is often flawed!), consistency, and more! it can help but it doesn't erase trauma or grief. it's dismissive of the history of trauma therapy to say an adult "should have" had a kid in a therapy approach that didn't exist, and it's dismissive of the actual work of therapy to act like therapy would have made everything ideal. bruce isn't going to be a normal, well-adjusted adult because his parents were murdered in front of him. he could be happy! he could have coping skills! but honestly it would be weirder if he didn't wrestle with residual trauma and grief throughout his life.

and maybe this is just because i love Batman, and love specifically Batman as a symbol/figure of hope and sacrifice and the belief that every life matters, but I don't think the worst ending here is Bruce deciding to give up a lot of his time, energy, and health to work in Gotham AND then choose to parent a traumatized child and actively meet his needs. like you think the alternative is that Alfred is a better parent by getting him into non-existent therapy and then he stays comfortably wealthy at home and is just another rich dude? that's the ideal version? the one who can't help Dick Grayson because Dick Grayson wants to run away and murder a man?

anyway tl;dr alfred should have flaws, yes, but there's a big gap between "flawed human parental figure" and "man who massively failed Bruce in multiple ways, one of which was not putting him in therapy."

[folk-enjoyer]

Song of the Day

"Call of the moose" Willy Mitchell, 1980 As you might know, September 30th is Truth and Reconciliation day (more commonly known as Orange Shirt Day), a national day in Canada dedicated to spreading awareness about the legacy of Residential schools on Indigenous people. Instead of just focusing on a song, I also wanted to briefly talk about the history of the sixties scoop and its influence on Indigenous American music and activism.

The process of Residential schooling in Canada existed well before the '60s, but the new processes of the sixties scoop began in 1951. It was a process where the provincial government had the power to take Indigenous children from their homes and communities and put them into the child welfare system. Despite the closing of residential schools, more and more children were being taken away from their families and adopted into middle-class white ones.

Even though Indigenous communities only made up a tiny portion of the total population, 40-70% of the children in these programs would be Aboriginal. In total, 20,000 children would be victims of these policies through the 60s and 70s.

These adoptions would have disastrous effects on their victims. Not only were sexual and physical abuse common problems but the victims were forcibly stripped of their culture and taught to hate themselves. The community panel report on the sixties scoop writes:

"The homes in which our children are placed ranged from those of caring, well-intentioned individuals, to places of slave labour and physical, emotional and sexual abuse. The violent effects of the most negative of these homes are tragic for its victims. Even the best of these homes are not healthy places for our children. Anglo-Canadian foster parents are not culturally equipped to create an environment in which a positive Aboriginal self-image can develop. In many cases, our children are taught to demean those things about themselves that are Aboriginal. Meanwhile, they are expected to emulate normal child development by imitating the role model behavior of their Anglo-Canadian foster or adoptive parents."

and to this day indigenous children in Canada are still disproportionately represented in foster care. Despite being 5% of the Total Canadian population, Indigenous children make up 53.8% of all children in foster care.

I would like to say that the one good thing that came out of this gruesome and horrible practice of state-sponsored child relocation was that there was a birth of culture from protest music, but there wasn't. In fact, Indigenous music has a long history of being erased and whitewashed from folk history.

From Buffy Saint-Marie pretending to be Indigenous to the systematic denial of first nations people from the Canadian mainstream music scene, the talented artists of the time were forcibly erased.

Which is why this album featuring Willy Mitchell is so important.

Willy Mitchell and The Desert River Band

This Album was compiled of incredibly rare, unheard folk and rock music of North American indigenous music in the 60s-80s. It is truly, a of a kind historical artifact and a testimony to the importance of archival work to combat cultural genocide. Please give the entire thing a listen if you have time. Call of the Moose is my favorite song on the album, written and performed by Willy Mitchell in the 80s. His Most interesting song might be 'Big Policeman' though, written about his experience of getting shot in the head by the police. He talks about it here:

"He comes there and as soon as I took off running, he had my two friends right there — he could have taken them. They stopped right there on the sidewalk. They watched him shootin’ at me. He missed me twice, and when I got to the tree line, he was on the edge of the road, at the snow bank. That’s where he fell, and the gun went off. But that was it — he took the gun out. He should never have taken that gun out. I spoke to many policemen. And judges, too. I spoke with lawyers about that. They all agreed. He wasn’t supposed to touch that gun. So why did I only get five hundred dollars for that? "

These problems talked about here, forced displacement, cultural assimilation, police violence, child exploitation, and erasure of these crimes, still exist in Canada. And so long as they still exist, it is imperative to keep talking about them. Never let the settler colonial government have peace; never let anyone be comfortable not remembering the depth of exploitation.

Every Child Matters

[autisticrosewilson]

How come you’re a Jason enjoyer while also hating Tim even though he has more consistency when it comes to characterization and also has more comics as robin than Jason. Tim also has more developed relationships with other characters

I’m not trying to just just curious, you don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to

Buddy my favorite characters are Grant Wilson (died in the 80's, has not been seen or heard from since Rebirth, and even then only in flashbacks) and Talia Al Ghul (hasn't had consistent characterization since the 90's). I could not possibly care less about who has more content.

For me it's just because on a fundamental level I relate to Jason more. I grew up very poor, my mom struggled with addiction, my dad was in and out of jail, cancer runs in my family, and I got adopted at 13. His story is a lot more meaningful to me than some rich kid who only got his start because they retconned everything about Jason. Praising Tim for traits that Jason ALSO HAD but that dc made a solid effort to erase.

I also just find Tim boring for this reason. XelTalks on YouTube put it really well when he called Tim an industry plant. He was built up on the basis that he's a better Robin than Jason, but not actual Robin Jason, the recklessly angry imaginary version of Jason that's been victim blamed to hell and back. So I really didn't care for him much at all. And it doesn't help whenever he's around characters I like more are downplayed so he can be the smartest special boy in the room. If you have to knock others down so your fav can be on top maybe he's just not that good.

Also Jason has been characterized and deeply affected by the women in his life and his complex relationships to them and his anger about sexual violence in particular is very core to his character vs Tim who right out the gate treated Steph and Tam both pretty badly and he's all around too much like all the reasons I hate Bruce. So.

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 80: Oliver's Impossible Dilemma

Previous > Masterlist > Next

tw: mind control, mental invasion, forced drugging, hallucination, murder

October 1925

The two returned to the house, and Oliver was more than happy to accept the chores Vivian assigned to him, glad to have anything to do to take his mind off of the situation and his conflicting feelings. But as the sun sank lower in the sky, his anxiety grew. Night would soon fall, and his master might be calling out to him once again, and the thought of that soothing, enticing voice made his heart clench. In the light of day, among ordinary people, it was easier to tell himself that Vivian killing Alexander was the morally correct thing to do and that he had no desire to return. Easy to say, perhaps, when Vivian would be the one carrying out the awful deed and there might not be anything Oliver could do or say to dissuade her.

But the more he thought, the more the gentle face and voice and hands came into his mind. Surely there must be another way. Surely Alexander could be reasoned with, even if Vivian wouldn't consider it. If he took Oliver back, then Alexander wouldn't be a danger to any other humans. It would cost him his freedom, but spare him the guilt. He had to try.

After dinner, Vivian approached Oliver with a small vial of a clear liquid. "Sleeping draught," she said. "So you can rest without vampires having their way with your mind."

Oliver took it and stared at it. He understood why it was probably a good idea for him to be knocked out, and yet, the thought of being incapacitated again filled him with fear. "Are you going to… hunt him? Alexander. Are you going to do that tonight?"

"I'm not sure I have much of a choice," she said. "If I don't hunt him, he'll be hunting me. I'm not going to be leaving right away, though, because I have some preparations to do." Vivian cocked an eyebrow. "Are you worried about me or about him?"

"To be perfectly honest, both." He swallowed the lump in his throat, knowing that he had to do something. "Do you really, truly need to kill him? I'm sure he can be reasoned with."

Vivian sighed. "You can't reason with a vampire with a hypnotic voice, Oliver. Every moment I listen to him is a moment he'll be trying to put me under his spell, and I will not let that happen."

"But there has to be some other way!"

"There isn't. It's not like I can simply leave him be, either. Since I took you from him, he'll be hunting me no matter what. It's him or me, and I'm sorry, but you know which one I'm going to pick."

"Then what if you returned me to him?" said Oliver desperately. "He wouldn't take any other humans if he had me back. He'd be harmless."

"Absolutely out of the question. I'm not turning over a human to placate a vampire." She crossed her arms sternly. "Besides, what would become of you when Alexander's sire comes around again?"

"Alexander needs a hunter to help kill his sire. He told me that himself. I know last night you said you couldn't trust him, but if you returned me first, he might be willing to work with you…"

"I still couldn't trust him," said Vivian. "You have to understand that there's nothing I could give him or do for him that would make me safe. I'm a hunter. Even if I agreed to spare Alexander, I'm not going to stop killing other vampires. He would never just let me go free -- not to mention what a high price I'd likely fetch on the auction block, with my witch's blood."

"Maybe I could convince him to leave you alone."

"Maybe he could hypnotize you out of your opinions in five seconds flat."

It was true. As much as he didn't want it to be, it was true. Alexander had proven himself than happy to erase any disagreement from Oliver's head. And of course he couldn't let Vivian go free, not when she was also after Lily. Turning her over to Lily to be mesmerized would be the easiest way to deal with her -- he thought of Lily's parlor, of the poor man on his hands and knees being dragged off to receive obedience training. Alexander thought nothing of it. He would think nothing of sending Vivian to the same fate, either.

It was a truly impossible choice. Either Alexander would die, or Vivian would be ensorcelled forever, a slave to the vampires she'd fought. He couldn't accept it.

"Look, I understand," she said, drawing nearer and holding up the vial. "Your master's grip on you was incredibly tight. You're not in your right mind yet. You'll feel much better once my work is finished. I think you should drink the sleeping draught and have a good night's --"

"No," he said stubbornly. "I won't." He wasn't sure what was causing him to fight more vigorously for Alexander's life than for his own freedom. Whether it was his true feelings or residuals from Alexander's powers, he knew that he couldn't live with himself if he just allowed him to die. "At least let me come with you and talk to him."

"Unfortunately, I don't have time for this. I have to prepare." In a flash, Vivian had him pinned against the wall. She was much stronger than Oliver, and as he flailed and tried to get free, she splashed some of the potion on his face, making him woozy from the fumes. Weakened, he couldn't stop her from forcing his mouth open and pouring the noxious potion inside. His tongue turned numb as he tried to keep from swallowing it, and it trickled down his throat as he struggled.

"I'm sorry I have to do this, I really am, but it's for your own good," she said, as Oliver's limbs went limp and his eyelids fluttered. His vision tunneled, everything going dark as she picked him up and carried him into the small room at the top of the stairs, laying him on the cot.

"Please," Oliver pleaded. "Please don't."

"It's for the best. I hope you understand that someday," said Vivian. She left Oliver there and locked the door behind her.

He was trapped once again, just as he was trapped in the auction house, just as he was trapped in Alexander's manor. The remnants of the sleeping draught in his mouth were sickly-sweet with an aftertaste like gasoline. He fought his heavy eyelids, trying to stay awake just a little bit longer. Maybe there was something he could do. Maybe he could warn Alexander somehow. But he probably didn't need it -- he must already expect that Vivian would be coming for him. He might be looking for Oliver right now.

If only all of this had been a dream. If only he could wake up from this enchanted sleep to find himself back in his bookshop, with a wholly fictional volume about vampires resting on his lap. If only Alexander were just an ordinary man with pale skin and a taste for rare books. If only his captivity and sale were something he'd dreamed up after reading a few too many outlandish tales of strange rituals.

Just as his last bit of consciousness faded away, he thought he heard Alexander's voice. It was still sad, but there was something else, now. Fear. Panic. And a warning, an urgent one. He briefly struggled against the potion pulling him under to try to understand what Alexander was trying to convey, but it was impossible to resist the magic flowing through his veins. Alexander's warning slipped away from him, turning into a sense of deep unease as he began to drowse.

It didn't take long for his distress to turn into vivid nightmares. He could see Alexander on his knees at Vivian's feet, begging for his life, turning to Oliver for help. Oliver could do nothing as the vampire's body turned to dust around the silvered stake, his voice fading into the night to never be heard again. He saw the library in flames, countless priceless books burning, and Oliver was trapped under the ceiling as it fell, destined to perish here as a cosmic punishment for having betrayed Alexander.

He woke up hyperventilating, not in the library, but in the cot at Vivian's safe house. It was utterly quiet and so dark, even though the moon out of the window was unnaturally enormous. The stillness was only broken by the distant, rhythmic ticking of a clock, muffled and far away, but somehow getting closer by the minute. Some part of him understood that something terrible had happened here, that it was his fault, and that he needed to go see for himself what had happened.

The door to his room swung open slowly, revealing only more pitch blackness. As if under a compulsion, Oliver stood and felt his way to the door, tripping over something cold and heavy.

Gas lamps all around him blazed to life, and Oliver saw that the thing he had tripped over was Emily's bloodied corpse.

He screamed, and practically launched himself down the stairs in a blind panic, shouting for Vivian and receiving no response. He felt as though the walls were warping and bending, as though the safe house was a million miles long one minute and suffocatingly small the next. And the dreadful ticking of the clock echoed throughout.

The gas lamps flickered and sputtered and went out all at once, plunging Oliver into true darkness, and he was paralyzed by fear. Then, just as abruptly as they had extinguished, they all roared to life with unnaturally large flames, illuminating the figure standing before Oliver. Vivian, with the same cold, hard look in her eyes that she had when confronting Alexander. She was advancing on Oliver with silver knife raised.

"What are you doing?" he yelled as he backed into the wall.

"I have to do this," she said in a dull voice. "It's for your own good. You'll be free."

"No! No, don't!" He raised his hands to catch her arm, but she easily shoved him away and pushed him to the floor. Just as the knife plunged into his gut…

He awoke once again in the cot.

It was a nightmare, only a nightmare. But it felt so terrifyingly real, and his thoughts were so muddled and hazy from the sleeping draught. Adrenaline surged through him even as the enchantment fought to pull him back down into sleep, the world around him a confused and bleary haze.

And worst of all, he could still hear the dreadful tick, tick, tick of the clock -- no, it was more like a metronome, echoing through him. Was it real, or was he still in a nightmare? It was impossible to tell.

She will kill you.

"No!" he said out loud. That voice… it wasn't Alexander's. No, it was a voice he would recognize anywhere, its musical tone at odds with its cruelty. It was Alexander's sire. He was in Oliver's mind.

She will kill you. You must kill her first.

"No, I won't!" He curled up onto the cot, shaking. Alexander's sire knew that he'd been captured, perhaps even knew where he was. He wasn't safe. None of them were safe, as long as Oliver was here. He had to go. He stood up on shaky, weak legs, still very much under the influence of the sedative, barely able to stand upright and drag himself to the door. Clumsy hands tried to work the doorknob, failing to turn it several times, and when he finally was able to get a solid grasp on it, the door didn't open. He dimly remembered that it had been locked.

She will kill you.

The lock clicked. "Oliver, are you all right? I heard shouting," said Vivian on the other side of the door.

"No, go away! Don't come near me!"

The door opened anyway, and Vivian was advancing on him, just like in the nightmare. "Oliver, what's going on? How are you even awake? Is that vampire in your mind again?" She didn't have a knife in her hand, but it was attached to her belt in a scabbard, ready to use. She was coming closer, just like before.

"Get away!" said Oliver, pushing her and running out the door on uncoordinated legs. "I have to -- I have to go now!"

"Oliver, stop! You don't know what you're doing!"

She grabbed his wrist, and he yelped and twisted it away. Nightmare and reality were mixed and blurred in his mind, and all he knew was that he had to escape. He wrenched his wrist away from her, took a few fumbling steps, and then his foot hit air instead of the floor.

"Oliver!" Vivian screamed. It sounded like it was coming from far away. He was falling, looking up at the ceiling one moment and at the stairs the next. His head hit something hard and sharp and his vision went black for a second as he heard a sickening noise.

When he opened his eyes, he was laying face down on the floor. The wood floor was cold against his cheek. He couldn't move. There was something wrong with his leg, something terribly wrong. It felt as though it were bent in a way it shouldn't be. Someone was yelling his name. The clock was ticking. He just wanted to close his eyes and go back to sleep.

It must just be a nightmare.

Previous > Masterlist > Next

Oliver is not fine.

Next week, Lex and Fitz and the Maestro's punishments.

Thanks for reading!

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[ladykailitha]

Steve is a History, Art, and Music Nerd

I’ve been seeing some headcanons lately about Steve being a science and math nerd and how cool it would for him to put the Party in their place with his knowledge, and you know I’m headcanon whatever you want, but he spends too much of the show with that stuff going over his head for me to espouse to that idea.

So I present to you Steve the HAM nerd!

History

Art

Music

HAM!

Now the middle one is more of “I art so Steve art, ROAAAAWWWWRRRRRR!” type headcanon but the other two have some merit in canon.

Behold! My thoughts!

History- Steve is shown to have some interest in WWII twice. Once when Dustin is explaining that the Upside Down creatures think they’re superior and he quips “Oh like the Germans!” Dustin yells at him, but Steve isn’t wrong.

The other time is when he’s trying to show Nancy his essay for colleges and he compares his grandfather’s heroism in WWII to a basketball game he helped win. And it’s well written and explained well.

So maybe a little English in there, too.

But there was something else interesting that made really think that Steve is a history nerd. Lucas is one, too. And they share a lot in common. The common sense when their smarter friends try to dive into trouble head first, and basketball.

Art- We know that while Steve isn’t an intellectual like most of the party, he does share certain emotional intelligence that is present in the three other characters that aren’t “school smart”. Will and his painting, Jonathan and his photography, and Eddie with his music.

So Steve being artistic fits into that very well. I think he does pencil drawing. So that he can erase things when he messes up. He doesn’t think he’s very good, but he’s very enthusiastic about it anyway.

And finally:

Music- While Robin and Dustin were fighting over who got to translate the creepy Russian message, Steve kept focusing on the music at the end. And then fucking guessed it correctly it was the merry-go-round in the middle of the mall and then this beautiful bastard told them it was an Indiana Flyer. He not only knew the song, but knew the music was specific to the type of carousel in the mall.

Like, Eddie playing a song that had only been out for three weeks is impressive, but so is that.

So, no I don’t think Steve’s music taste is whatever is on the radio. I think he puts a lot of thought into the type of music he listens to, because he loves music. I would say that he probably learned one of the classic 80s kid being forced to learn an instrument instruments. Piano or violin. My bet is violin.

Because I’ve know people who play piano tend to use anything and everything as a keyboard when they’re bored and Steve doesn’t. So most likely violin. He probably stopped in high school when sports started taking up too much of his time, but yeah Steve is as big a music nerd as Jonathan and Eddie.

So there you go, Steve is a HAM nerd.

[gabessquishytum]

Even though dreamling’s together now, having reunited after 33 years and exchanged all their apologies and explanations and confessions of feelings, Hob still occasionally dreams about the missed 1989 meeting, of waiting and waiting and losing hope but still determined to continue waiting rather than risk missing him. It’s not quite a nightmare per se, as it mostly just leaves Hob feeling a little sad upon waking.

When Dream discovers this semi-reoccurring dream, he’s very tempted to simply banish it, until he’s suddenly struck with the notion of replacing it with something more pleasing and enjoyable…

So the next time Hob dreams of 1989, he’s not left waiting for long before a full 80s goth Dream marches in and immediately climbs into Hob’s lap, kissing the daylights out of him. He then proceeds to sit on his cock and ride him for dear life, right there in the middle of the crowded White Horse.

Hob wakes the next morning laughing and crying a little at the gesture, and agrees that it’s a much better version of the dream, though it should probably be repeated a few more times to ensure that it thoroughly replaces the old memory.

-🪽anon

This is so very sweet 🥺🥺 I love the way Dream would fully understand the importance of the dream, and not simply try to erase it. He just wants to help Hob deal with the memory in a more comforting way that is reflective of their current circumstances <3

Hob has definitely fantasised about what Dream would've looked like in 1989. Would he have showed up in full, flamboyant New Romantic era fashion? Or would he have embraced the tradgoth style, painting his already pale face even whiter and layering on tonnes of eyeliner and black lipstick? Of course Dream goes for the latter - he enjoys the spikes on his black leather jacket, the enormous platform heels on his boots, even the huge silver crucifix necklace. He keeps all the jewellery on while he bounces in Hob’s lap, so that the necklace bounces between them, and Hob can take the safety pin early between his teeth and tug.

It's quite the inspiration for Dream to add some pizazz to his outfits in the waking world, too - Hob REALLY likes him in fishnets. All of the 80s gear is surprisingly soothing for Hob, who had begun to subconsciously avoid anything associated with the decade. Now, he can even put on an 80s playlist when he takes Dream to bed... "Shattered Dreams" has a different meaning altogether when Dream is gazing up at him, panting through an orgasm with his pink lips curving into the most satisfied of grins, legs spread wide and unable to quite catch his breath... <3

[fantastic-nonsense]

Is it possible for Jason and Roy to actually be friends? I know RHATO is terrible and I've seen a lot of people say there's no real reason for Jason and Roy to have any sort of friendship and I was just wondering if that's the case?

Technically it's possible for anyone in comics to become friends (or at least be on friendly terms with each other) if the circumstances align the correct way. In the case of Roy and Jason, I think there's two things that people need to understand:

Jason and Roy were canonically on friendly terms prior to Jason's death. Jason had a short stint on the Teen Titans in the mid-80s and all of the Titans—including Roy—were pretty friendly with him. However, Jason and Roy's relationship during that arc is based around the fact that they only know about and interact with each other via their relationships with Dick Grayson. Roy is one of Dick's best friends, and Jason is Dick's younger brother. That directly impacts how they interact.

Roy and Jason are only friends in current canon due to a substantial number of retcons to Roy's life, personality, and friendships. These retcons have made it impossible to treat Roy and Jason's friendship as anything remotely reasonable for either character, because if you have to completely twist a character into something they're not for a friendship with another character to work…there's generally an insurmountable gap there that would be better filled by other people.

Given those two things, there's clearly a theoretical canon path forward for making Jason and Roy friends on their own terms rather than "being friendly to each other because they both love Dick Grayson." It wouldn't be super hard, though I personally struggle to see a lot of connection points for what would realistically make Jason and Roy become friends in the way that New 52 canon wanted to portray them.

The problem is that modern comics did not and still have not put in the work to make that friendship happen in a way that actually makes sense. Instead, they effectively just erased Dick from Roy's life and inserted Jason into it instead. And because the writers of that era (particularly Scott Lobdell, who wrote RHATO) did not actually care about any of the non-Bat characters they were randomly throwing together, that friendship and the circumstances under which it exists are pretty much the Ground Zero reason for why Roy Harper was fucked over so badly in the New 52 and Rebirth eras.

So the general fandom anger around Jason and Roy is less about there being "no reason" for their friendship to exist (though that's also true given how canon has portrayed it) and more about how the canon reasoning given for their friendship has done nothing but hurt Roy as a character. Hope that answers your question?

[jinwoosbabyboo]

I want to ask why you chose Aaron Warner, Christian Harper, and Rhys Larsen as a good comparison to Sylus? I want an essay!! I LOVE Aaron Warner but honestly haven't yet read the twisted series. Also, I don't mind spoilers so... excited to see what you come up with!

You want an essay??? Please 🙄 ….. No problem lets get it 😘

bear with me I read the twisted series over a year ago

‼️SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS‼️

Aaron Warner [Shatter Me Series ~ Tahereh Mafi] - This 5'9" golden haired military assassin with a heart of STONE. Yea you thought I was gonna say heart of gold huh? Nah this boy was trained to be a killer from birth. However when it comes to Juliette/Ella she is quite literally the only thing he cares about and is also the only girl he's ever loved.

He will quite literally sacrifice the world if it means she will be okay. His memory was erased multiple times, but he fell in love with her every. single. time. If it's for Juliette/Ella he's a goner because she is his only weakness in the world. He wants to love her and be loved by her and only her unconditionally.

“The reason why he had to keep wiping their memories was because it didn’t matter how many times he reset the story or remade the introductions— Aaron always fell in love with her. Every time.”

Christian Harper [Twisted Lies ~ Ana Huang] - Now this man stalked his girl for I think 5 years before making himself known. He's a billionaire who runs a security/tech company and he can hack into anything. He's a modern day genius obsessed with this girl Stella. They finally met in person when she moved into one of his apartment buildings with her friend Jules. He really slipped into her life though when Jules moved out and she couldn't afford the rent. He made a deal with her by letting her stay for a lower price and these were high end apartments (At least like 80% off the listing price). He also happened to live just one floor above her. The deal was she would take care of his plants in exchange for the low cost. He claims he isn't a jealous man yet he's jealous of every person she smiles at, every laugh that he didn't cause, etc he's completely and utterly obsessed with her from page one.

He will do literally anything for her including pretending the be her man for her social media platforms oh yea she's an influencer/model. Stella also likes being tied up and Christian happily obliged to tying her up ON A YACHT and was a real pussy pleaser. He supported her in her fashion designer endeavor and married her ass and IMMEDIATELY put a baby in her.

Oh one more thing Stella got kidnapped while her and Christian were fighting (this man was SICK) he sent a Code Black Out to all his agents in the area to find her and code black out if for extreme emergencies. Let’s just say her kidnapper is having a nice nap. A permanent nap. (Reminds you of a certain someone who turned MCs kidnapper into fucking black and red mist huh?)

Rhys Larsen [Twisted Games ~ Ana Huang] - Forget Prince Charming give me Mr. Scarred Knight Rhys Larsen 😮‍💨. He's ex-military and works as a bodyguard now (He works for none other than Christian Harper & they're in a sense friends) This man and his girl Princess Bridget who is a literal Princess. He was her bodyguard and she was forced to step up and become Queen because her brother married a commoner so he couldn't become king and Eldorra (their country) needed a ruler.

She basically starts acting up and Rhys is like girl wtf is going on?! She ends up wanting to do everything on her bucket list before becoming Queen so Rhys takes her to Costa Rica to do it. They fall for each other but it's a forbidden love so they can't really be together because she's royalty and he's a commoner. He fell in love despite him telling her he doesn't get involved with his clients. Him and Bridget were blackmailed by someone close to her which caused him to be terminated as her bodyguard. This man never drank in his life, but the minute he had to let Bridget go he drank himself stupid.

He was down bad for her (and so was she). They went through hell trying to get a centuries old law overturned so he could marry her. He didn't care about the fame or the royal title he just wanted to be with her. This man broke every single one of his rules that he'd set for himself for her. He never really opened up about his scars to anyone, but her (and I think Christian).

He's rough around the edges and can be a dom daddy made her stir down to her heels and said "Crawl to me" (SCREAMING WHINING AND RUNNING AROUND THE ROOM) He's also VERY possessive I quote...

"From this point on you're mine. No other man touches you. If they do I know seventy-nine ways to kill a man and I can make seventy of the look like and accident. Understand?"

I hope after reading all that you can see the similarities that I see. He's not dark romance he's just romance sunshine x grumpy basically.

I say all that to say this....

Sylus is morally gray like these characters above and he has a soft spot for MC (& the twins) he'll do anything for her and protect her at all costs. He's been through hell and may be a high functioning sociopath due to that trauma, but he still has a heart and is selective with who he's vulnerable with. He's not out here murdering people because they looked at MC. He knows his girl fine as hell, but he gets to touch while they hopelessly gaze.

[theboxfort]

List of details I've noticed in TPOT 1

Because I miss Pie, Liy, and Stapy. Gonna start AFTER the Cake at Stake

A lot of the focus will be put on Death PACT Again because. That's my favorite team.

Also ran out of space, so all the Exitor stuff after the credits is in the reblog!

Details in the elevator scene (seen above):

The most obvious one is where Two opens the door and it hits Puffball's face

Pie gets pushed into the elevator by the crowd (she's just sitting there)

Alternatively, she might actually be sliding backwards by herself instead of being pushed by the crowd

Coiny is most likely the first object to get into the elevator, as seen here

Fanny started out quite far away from the elevator but then scampered into the elevator. Also her legs barely moved

Pen was just out of the shot and had to haul ass into the elevator

Lightning waited for everyone (aside from Two) to get into the elevator before getting in there himself

Alternatively, an observation by @sweeswawswussy on twitter (a REALLY good one)!

lightning kinda look like hes contemplating to either float down the building with black hole or getting into the lift the face he made when he looks at black hole tho hhh looks like he felt sorry for him

BH didn't get in, because he didn't want to accidentally suck anyone up (which will 100% happen in such a small space), so he went down on his own

The rest of these are set AFTER the team picking scene (under the cut, because it's LONG)

When Two announced the challenge, everyone's standing in teams :]

The painting in the lobby, next to the elevator

During the elevator gets stuck scene with Just Not, while everybody reacted to the alarm, Pillow didn't. When the elevator falls, she's the only one smiling

Remote added a face to her drawing after she finished explaining <:]

PIE HOPPED DOWN FROM THE STAIRS LOOK AT HER GOOOOOOOOOOOO

Are You Okay's scene, yeah, let's go

This is shown in order! TB does not scream at all. GB seems excited at first, but after she got flung back, she's now. Not screaming in excitement. Eraser has the classic BFDI mouth in the first two flings.

COMPUTER ENHANCE THE PILE

80% sure that this is Cloudy's pile, I think that's a painting/drawing of Cloudy? The shape seems to fit him. There's also Balloony and Woody in the background, and maaaaybe Roboty to the bottom right, I'm not too sure.

BACK TO DEATH PACT!!!

In this scene, Fanny's the only member who doesn't seem to be tired! She's not panting, she's up straight (can't really tell if she's sitting or standing), and she's >:C

Remote gets recharged later, that's why she's also up in the second pic

When Just Not made it to the top, Book has the scrunkly old BFDI arm asset (the arm that's waving)

FANNY, SHE'S SMILING EHEHEHEHEH IT'S NOT A DETAIL, I JUST LIKE HER!!! Also Pie opens up her eyes :]

Sorry for the Death PACT Again stuff, I really like them. Here's a shot of them getting thrown by Remote

Remote grabs Trees and tells him to get Black Hole

TINY DEATH PACTERS...

Okay, so I counted all the hits Two got in this scene, and here's a list of what happened:

2 punches from Snowball

1 kick from Eggy

Another smack (1) from Snowball

1 jump/stomp from Marker

2 face slams from Robot Flower

1 slam from Bell

2 zaps from Lightning

1 BODY SLAM from Basketball

1 tray slap from Pillow

1 vomit to the face from Rocky (with Tree holding him)

1 jump kick from Foldy

1 knee strike from Basketball (GO BASKETBALL GO)

At least 10 stomps from Grassy (since we don't know if he kept stomping after the cut)

So in total, Two received 25 hits from these guys. The team that did the most damage is...

The Strongest Team on Earth with 20 hits! 10 from Grassy (the MVP), 3 from Snowball, 2 from Robot Flower, 2 from Basketball, 1 from Bell, 1 from Eggy, and 1 from Foldy!

A tangent here, from this screenshot, we can see that there's 6 floors in the hotel! Each floor is color coded too, red = lobby, orange = 2nd floor, yellow = 3rd floor, green = 4th floor, teal/cyan/blue = 5th floor, and the roof. Is a roof.

Fun fact, Basketball's lab from TPOT 2 is on the 4th floor!

Exitor stuff in the reblogs!!

[spoiled-milk]

dan heng as your roommate (modern au)

a/n: in compliance with dan heng’s five star release being yesterday here’s brainrot for my beloved also praying that those who pull for dan heng win their 50/50 or get him early (it took me 80 pity with guaranteed 😭😭). will be mia so i can farm more stellar jades for his weapon since he wanted to come home on hard pity

content warning: mentions of alcohol consumption, other than that none that i can think of. no mention of reader's gender

word count: ~1k words

you share a small apartment with dan heng. you used to share it with one of your friends, but a sudden job opportunity for them turns into you frantically finding a roommate to fill so that you’re not paying the full price of the rent next month

you find dan heng through one of your friend’s friend. March (your friend) knew someone with grey hair who then gave dan heng your details since he was looking for a place to live

you two officially meet at a coffee shop where you discuss rent, house rules, and the lease and you did not expect him to be hella attractive

rules are as follows: there’s a chore list on the fridge in the form of dry erase board, if bringing over friends you must let the other know before you bring them over, no going into the other person’s room without their knowledge, and keep hooking up to a minimum if possible or keep it quiet

at first he seemed like a quiet guy who wanted nothing to do with you which like didn’t hurt your feelings too much yk you just needed someone to pay half of the rent, but slowly he starts to open up to you and you have no problems opening up

usually you take turns cooking, but he’s come to realize you only know how to make is boxed food and breakfast foods, so after eating waffles for the 12th time that week he decides he’ll cook dinner for the most part

dan heng without fail will always give you the last piece of anything he makes. dumplings? you can have the last one. 12 pack of juice in the fridge? he won’t even go get more unless you drink the last one. you make brownies as a token of appreciation for him and insist you don’t want any and all of it is for him? you find the last piece tucked away in the fridge with your name on it

he makes it a point to do the dishes together. at first he argued that he could do it but after much begging from you, he allows you to help him rinse the dishes

this has become a nearly every night thing. you eat whatever dan heng makes then y’all do the dishes. most of the time you’re doing the talking, but it’s not exhausting to talk to him like you talk to others

you don’t know much about his past but he sure does knows a lot about your past. you’re sure march probably unintentionally spilled about your past, but you don’t really mind knowing it’s just dan heng. march has told you to ask him but when you do, he softly shuts it down

it doesn’t hurt your feelings of course. you understand that everyone has their secrets and no one is entitled to his, but it does hurt a little that he doesn’t seem like he wants to tell you since you thought you were getting pretty close as friends

oftentimes at the end of a stressful week, you find some movie on some streaming service and crash on the couch with snacks littering the coffee table. sometimes dan heng will come join you on the couch to whatever movie you put on, regardless of genre. rom com? he’s got his eyes glued to the screen. some environmental documentary about the gas leaks that effect a underprivileged community? he’s sat next to you nodding his head to the tv like a middle aged dad

most of the time you fall asleep in the middle of these movies and most of the time when you wake up in the middle of the night you either find yourself covered with a fluffy blanket or you find yourself in your bed with no memory of how you got there. you suspect dan heng carried you there, but you’ve never had the courage to ask him

there was one time when you woke up from sleeping in the middle of the movie and the tv was left on to the end credit scene. you reach for the remote next to you and turn off the tv. you start to shift a little but then you notice a weight next to you, it’s your roommate. he’s got an arm around your waist and he’s pulling you closer to him

you’re too tired to properly comprehend the situation so you let it happen. you lean your head towards his chest and end up falling asleep listening to dan heng’s heartbeat. when dan heng woke up that morning realizing what had happened, he could not look you in the eye for a week without blushing

he also takes care of you whenever you come home shitfaced from an outing or get shitfaced by yourself with 3 bottles of soju. it doesn’t happen often and you try not to drink often, but when you decide to go out, dan heng somehow knows that you’ve been out drinking and will always be at home waiting for your return

your friends drop you off at your apartment and dan heng helps you into bed. he takes a baby wipe and wipes off any dirt on your face. he’s so gentle with it that it honestly feels like a dream. you lowkey cherish it every single time, it feels so intimate that you wish he meant it in that way and not as just a friend

just as you’re losing consciousness, dan heng gets close to you but your vision is slightly blurring so you’re not sure what he’s up to, but you trust dan heng 100% to not take advantage of you

as you scrunch your eyebrows you feel something soft press against your cheek and then once again on your forehead. they’re brief and short, but you can feel your body get hotter and hotter, not even sure if it’s the alcohol or dan heng (or both maybe)

you pray that your big crush on him isn’t obvious but march tells you otherwise. so now you only hope that dan heng can’t tell but honestly it’s really hard to read his feelings, but you’re not sure how long you can keep up this “he’s just my roommate” act to your friends and yourself

[mickstart]

tell me about your favorite blorbo? like ramble tf away about it, let the hyperfixation take over, i'm so fuckin ready to know everything about them xD

okay I was gonna talk about aventurine but @chevaliermalfets also said I had permission to talk about Adler so.

Russell Adler Propaganda Hour

Okay so first I have to explain Call of Duty Black Ops.

Call of Duty is a franchise but within that franchise there are 3 studios all working on separate games with their own lore. Black Ops, or Blops, is a "universe" within call of duty and it's pretty much the only thing the Treyarch studio works on. (It's kind of connected to the other universes now, I DON'T have the time to get into that so just forget it. Like Dumbledore's sexuality, it is not relevant to Adler's journey.) Black Ops spans 80 years and the lore got Convoluted but they refocusd it again with the last 2 games like: okay. Blops is about top secret CIA operations during the second half of the 20th century.

Black Ops Cold War

The fifth blops came has a simple introductory plot. "It's 1981, you're CIA agents, there's a Bad Russian (Perseus) who wants to do things with Nukes. Standard cold war aesthetics shit. Go get the bad russian. Here's a team led by your NEW BEST FRIEND Adler." You mostly play as Bell. Adler is Bell's Best Friend they fought in vietnam together Adler always wants Bell on his team they're besties. Also, yes, this is the call of duty where you choose your pronouns and Reagan respects them. Much like Reagan I will be using they/them for Bell because I'm not a coward.

So yeah this plot is simple. Adler and you have been chasing the Bad Russian for years. You do various chaotic shit during this campaign. (Sneaking into East Berlin through the underground metro. Breaking into THE FUCKING KGB HQ AND HAVING AN OPEN FIREFIGHT IN ITS VAULT? ADLER? WHAT THE FUCK?) But throughout the game you get little hints something Isn't Right with Bell. They forget things, their past isn't as clear as the other characters, the CIA handler overseeing your op, Hudson, oesn't Trust them and often he and Adler argue about bringing Bell along.

And then :) A mission goes Very Wrong, one of 2 characters die and Bell gets Fucked Up. Adler basically drags you back to the safehouse and the surviving team members start putting you on a gurney. Hudson starts yelling at Adler to stop wasting time, that Bell is no use to them anymore, and the team ignore you. You're like "aww, Adler cares about Bell so much he's gonna waste time to help the- Adler why are you pointing that needle at Bell's eye... OH MY FUCKING GOD!!"

And then you find out that up until like a month ago Bell was working FOR PERSEUS. And then a jealous associate turned on Bell - and you WATCHED THIS HAPPEN from the POV of Adler's team. Bell is a nameless grunt that got shot in a car in the first mission. Adler and the team found Bell, took them back to the CIA, and when Bell didn't break under torture, they BRAINWASHED BELL with MKUltra shit to believe they and Adler were best friends so they'd willingly give him information.

They basically erased Bell's fucking psyche and replaced their memories with implanted memories from Adler's time in Vietnam. BELL IS NAMED AFTER THE BELL ADLER USED TO CONDITION THEM TO RESPOND POSITIVELY TO HIM. BELL HAS BEEN BRAINWASHED TO COMPLY AND OBEY WHENEVER ADLER SAYS "WE HAVE A JOB TO DO." THAT'S WHY ADLER TOOK YOU EVERYWHERE. THE BRAINWASHING IS CENTERED AROUND ADLER. HE CONTROLS BELL.

And you find this out as Adler is guiding you through a fucked up mindscape based on one of his Vietnam missions. He's trying to get you to open a red door - a kind of visual metaphor for the block you've had in your mind protecting the last SLIVER of free will and information you've managed to hold back from him. And as Adler gets angrier and pumps you full of more and more drugs the dreamscape starts getting trippier. At one point he's like "ENOUGH FUCKING AROUND!" and the visuals crumble around Bell and they get flung back to where Adler wants them to be. At one point Bell starts remembering the lab where this happened and Adler just goes "-exasperated sigh- Why is Bell in the lab? I don't want the lab, I want the bunker."

And then Bell wakes up. And let me tell you it's genuinely extremely effective going from Adler being 'protective' of you the whole game to Adler having a hand around your throat cursing you out like you're his enemy. Because you are. After Some Arguing Adler is like "okay, tell me where Perseus is." and YOU can choose to either lie or tell the truth. If you lie Europe gets nuked, but you get to stab Adler in the heart and kill everyone else who did this to you and reunite with Perseus who is immediately Very Concerned about you and Very Proud of you for managing to survive this ordeal.

If you tell the truth (the canonical ending) you get a long cutscene where Adler monologues about "A Few Good Men Making Bad Decisions To Protect The Free World" basically the motto of the US Military's imperialism. And then you and the team stop Perseus and save the world ... and then in the credits, Adler takes Bell up a hill and says "this little thing between you and me wasn't personal" ... and he draws to shoot you and Bell draws like a milisecond after bc after all the programming Bell can read Adler just as well as Adler can read them they're supposed to be bffs after all.

It cuts to black like the fucking sorpanos but the implication is that Adler *KILLS* Bell. Because they've outlived their usefulness. If you choose The Right Thing, Adler KILLS you presumably on CIA orders bc Adler only cares about The Mission.

And that's just COLD WAR!!!!!!!!!!

(Adler pic for making it this far)

Black Ops 6

10 years later during Operation Desert Storm. This game isn't even ABOUT Ader, except it is bc he steals every scene he's in. Case in point, he enters the campaign by striding out from behind a car, coming out of the dust like a demon, and shooting a friendly, unarmed man in the head with no explanation, justification, or apology, while everyone screams. One character literally says "Adler!" but not like they're calling out to him, like the way you might call out a warning like "gunship!" "tank!"

(And then they wrestle with him and he's out of breath and panting and on his knees w/ a gun to his head heehee hoohoo I'm normal I'm normal.)

Anyway Adler has been on the run for a while because he's suspected of being a mole who fucked up a crucial CIA operation. He claims he's being framed, and the CIA are compromised. He gets thrown in a CIA black site and once you investigate and find out he's probably telling the truth you have to put a team together to uncover The Truth and to break him out.

And THEN you have to deal with his chaos for the rest of the campaign the highlights of which include: shooting an unarmed man and going "whaaaat? :( he was going for his gun" when called out, trying to throw a confessing, surrendered man into a jet plane engine, and just carrying CIA MKultra torture drugs around in his bag and pulling them out when necessary like they're chapsticks. Everything Adler does is so fucking funny in how cartoonishly evil it is he is a DELIGHT. This is Adler NOT pretending to be a decent guy like he was with Bell.

(Also you can indirectly ask him about Bell and he shuts that shit down immediately. >:) That's theirs. That's his and Bell's and nobody else will understand their fucked up hannibal lecter will graham antics.)

I don't even know how to summarise the plot except at one point a character is reliving her worst trauma and she claims Adler killed her parents in front of her when she was a child and they were CIA agents and Adler was ordered by the CIA to kill their own, and I started LAUGHING AND CLAPPING LIKE A SEAL it hit like meth. The game claims this did NOT happen and she has been misled but I refuse to accept that. It happened. Adler killed this women's parents in cold blood and then mentored her in the CIA. I hope he killed her pet hamster too. I hope he ate her last lunchable from the fridge and stole money from her piggy bank.

Yes, he is STILL SUPPOSED TO BE A PROTAGONIST. And you have to understand how incredible that is. Call of Duty does NOT let its characters be Proper Bastards. Call of Duty characters always need to turn to the camera and say "but of course, as a us military soldier, I would never commit a war crime because we are the most ethical military in the world."

But Adler is a *protagonist* and he not only commits war crimes, when other characters judge him for it he's like "uh we work for the CIA dipshit the blanket war crimes permission came free with our badge bc WE get to decide when a war crime is necessary! U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A!"

Call of Duty doing this is like a dog learning to ride a bike. That's not an expectation I ever had for the dog, nor is it something I thought he could do. Frankly, I don't know what this dog riding a bike MEANS in the grand scheme of things. But goddamn that sure is a dog riding a bike and I want to see more of it.

Questions You Might Have

What's with the facial scar?

Adler refuses to tell the real story like any good Bond Villain he just HAS a cool scar covering half his face.

Why does he dress like that?

BC it's a period piece in the sexy Spies And Soviets era and he's watched too many movies. I hope he went to see Top Gun

Why is he like this?

>:) Because he's a beast created by the US Military's total lack of oversight and self-legitimising discourse that means anything is true and permitted as long as they say it is.

Why is he so funny?

Bc he's a call of duty character who is aware they are in call of duty and therefore any attempt to minimise their evil is wasted breath and pointless effort. This is like the reverse of parody. This is face-value "yes we really mean this" taken to such a ridiculous extreme it BECOMES Parody. This is like the reverse of why Senator Armstrong saying "Make America Great Again" 4 years before Trump Presidency happened hits like crack.

How did call of duty make this?

I have no fucking idea dude I think someone from metal gear snuck into the building.

Wait didn't you tag something as AdlerBell but they-

I subscribe to the NBC Hannibal school of "sometimes ruining someone's life can be intensely romance coded if you two are the only two people alive who can understand what went on between you." I think Bell should eat him.

Are you okay?

Absolutely not. I think Adler has MKUltra'd me.

[redjoey1992]

So last year, Disney's Wish was supposed to be a celebration of Disney's 100th year anniversary, and everybody was hyped up. Sadly, when it finally got released, people were very, and I mean very, disappointed with it. Yes, Wish has its flaws, and some parts felt rushed undet it's 80 to 90 minute running time, but for me personally, I thought it was good and it could've been better. For everyone else, it was a disappointment.

Then, people keep saying that they were robbed because of two concept arts that have been breaking the internet for over a year. One of them is the idea of a romantic plot of Asha and Starboy, a humanized version of the Star from the original movie (unaware that the humanized star is actually the younger version of Asha's Grandfather and the idea of them having a romance is gross, plus it's questionable because Stars are thousands and thousands of years old). The other is King Magnifico and Queen Amaya as a villain power couple. While those two sound like nice ideas, but in reality, they don't add anything new to it or could make it even more convoluted that it already is. Nevertheless, those two concept art ideas have been the main focus on everybody's Wish rewrite fanfic.

So, if I ever wanted to do a Wish rewrite fanfic, the first thing I do is change the main hero and villain.

ARMAAN:

Armaan is a starry-eyed and optimistic 11-year-old boy from the kingdom of Rosas. He’s energetic and passionate, sometimes rushing into a situation without thinking about it first. Although he considers himself a fish out of water because he has lived in Rosas for almost a year, he’s brave and hopeful and always puts a positive spin on any situation. He deeply loves and cares for his family and friends, especially his paternal grandfather, Sabino.

Armaan was born in a small region in North Africa to a philosopher from Rosas named Tomás and a seamstress named Sakina. Growing up, Armaan would hear his father lecture him about the stars and their connection to all living things. He would also spend time reading books, drawing, and building things. When he was nine years old, his father passed away from an unknown disease. Soon after his father’s death, Armaan and Sakina moved to the Kingdom of Rosas, where they now live with Sabino. He then made friends with seven kids named Ruth (10), Marri (16), Simon (15), Hal (10), Safi (11), Bazeema (12), and Dario (10).

At first, he had a high opinion of Princess Celeste like everybody else in Rosas, but he is rather curious about how she has the power to grant wishes and how the people of Rosas have great admiration towards her. He entered a contest to meet Princess Celeste for only one day on her 18th birthday. He saw this because of Sabino’s wish to inspire people with his music, and his grandfather’s 100th birthday is also on the same day as Celeste’s 18th birthday/wishing ceremony. Armaan won, much to his excitement.

The hangout with Princess Celeste started great in a little brother/big sister way. Then Celeste takes Armaan to her chambers, where she shows him the collection of all the wishes from the people of Rosas. When Armaan saw Sabino’s wish, he asked Celeste to grant it. But she rejected his plea. Celeste also revealed a dark secret to him. She erased everybody’s memories of the citizens’ wishes, rendering them devoid of any ambition and making them rely on her and adore her, which causes tensions between her and Armaan, which escalates into Celeste passing on Sabino’s wish.

Later that night, Armaan feels like he disappointed Sabino on his 100th birthday. Sabino then comes in to cheer him up and shows him to a wishing tree he and Tomás used to go to and says that sometimes wishing on a star can inspire him not to give up hope, something that he gave to Tomás when he was young. Soon, Armaan takes his grandfather’s advice and makes a desperate wish upon a star, hoping everyone in Rosas can make their wishes come true.

His wish is highly tremendous and pure, and he is granted the star itself, which takes on the form of an anthropomorphic ball of light whose name will be called Star. This will lead Armaan on a noble adventure to free all the wishes from Celeste’s wicked clutches.

So, I wanted to make Armaan’s relationship with Sabino as the emotional core as well making Sabino show him the wishing tree just like how he showed his father before him (it's taken from a deleted scene). Based on a friend's suggestion, I would have Armaan be more curious about Princess Celeste, her power to grant wishes, and the people of Rosas' greater admiration towards her, making Celeste’s villainous reveal more shocking. I based Armaan’s character design off of Ravi Cabot-Conyers (my ideal voice actor for him), Mickey Mouse from "The Sorceror's Apprentice" segment from Fantasia, Pinocchio, and Aladdin. There's also a little bit of Antonio from Encanto.

PRINCESS CELESTE:

Princess Celeste is the most beautiful, charismatic, and beloved 18-year-old princess of Rosas and the only daughter of Queen Amaya. From the day she was born, she was enchanted to be attractive, sing beautifully, and be beloved by all, but she was born with magical powers. As the princess grows up, she's been learning and mastering all kinds of magic and sorcery and studying astrology and alchemy. But her one extraordinary magic power is that she can grant the wishes of her subjects. She has that ability because, unbeknownst to everyone, including herself, Celeste is born a half-human/half-star hybrid. She considers her magic superior to all others to the point where she lets the power go to her head, leading her to develop a giant, vain, self-absorbed ego.

One day, people forget what they want or desire. Then, on her 15th birthday, Princess Celeste declares that she will be willing to help her people by announcing a ceremonial event where she'll grant only one wish every year on her birthday.

Unbeknownst to the people, including her mother, Celeste is wicked, selfish, devious, callous, narcissistic, and sociopathic. She cast a powerful and dangerous spell that will steal the memories of her people’s wishes and keep them sealed and locked away in her study room forever. Celeste can only grant wishes that would benefit her and keep the rest locked up, especially those that she deems a threat to her. She created the wish-granting ceremony every year on her birthday to maintain her power, beauty, and influence and have people feed her ego. She learned that spell from a book containing forbidden magic, which she uses as a contingency in case something threatens her power.

Despite her potent magic and enchanting appearance, Princess Celeste harbors an intense jealousy and resentment towards her mother, Queen Amaya, who is more humble and caring to the people of Rosas, leaving Celeste to feel overshadowed by her and will do anything to make herself the center of attention.

On her 18th birthday, she can only invite one person to spend one day with her so she can grant one special wish for the winner. When an 11-year-old boy named Armaan was declared the winner, things went wonderfully in a little brother/big sister way. Then she showed him the millions of wishes in her study room. Armaan discovers his grandfather's wish to inspire people to play the guitar. Once he tells her about her grandfather's wish, she assumes that it might be dangerous, although Sabino is mainly kind and harmless.

Then Armaan starts questioning why Celeste only grants one wish while many others will never for another year instead of being given back so the people who initially wished them could achieve them themselves. Celeste tells him that they can't do it on their own because it's unachievable, and they come to her because she's the only one who can grant the wishes to come true, so they don't have to worry about doing it on their own. Armaan is shocked and surprised by how she did it so people would forget the best memories about themselves, with an enraged Celeste declaring that she's the only one who decides what the people deserve. So, she refused to grant Sabino's wish at the wishing ceremony, leaving Armaan crushed and heartbroken.

Later that night, Armaan wished on a star for help, and the star, revealed to be a little, exciting, boundless ball of energy, answered. Celeste saw the light it caused and believed that someone had threatened her power. All this would lead to the events of her downward spiral, building up to her inevitable defeat.

My idea for Princess Celeste is to create an evil Disney Princess, which is something that Disney has never done before, so having a Disney Princess be the main villain sounds more refreshing. Plus, it would make more sense for her to grant only one wish a year every year on her birthday so she can have the people of Rosas feed her ego. I based Princess Celeste's character design off of Chloë Grace Moretz (my ideal voice actor for her), Princess Aurora from Sleeping Beauty, and King Magnifico. Some of her character was inspired by Princess Fiorimonde from the fairy tale "The Necklace of Princess Fiorimonde" and it's a very awesome read. You guys really need to check it out.

More ideas of my Wish rewrite will be coming soon.