#because there will always be some chump trying to put you down but you don't need 'em!

[archaiclumina]

This is a little post about how not to interact with writers in your fandom spaces c:

So, you can't leave a comment on my fics unless you have an Ao3 account! I do this because, I am shy! Like I said in a post at the start of the write! Writing is part of ourselves, and sometimes it's hard to share parts of ourselves which are so personal.

But the point of the write is of course, just to do it! Do it! Have fun! Write for yourself! Combat perfectionism! Enjoy being creative!

Someone made an account on Ao3 to leave this comment on one of my fics

They made this account to leave me this ChatGPT ass comment about my writing needing to be better, for a challenge about first drafts and getting the words out.

Don't do this. It's not nice, it's not helpful. It's rude.

No one posting to Ao3 or tumblr is asking for your editorial input, mate. Especailly when you can't even get your grammar right in the first sentence of your patronizing bs.

Also if you'd like to read the 894w fic that needs a better economy of words, you can find it here.

[maxwell-grant]

Only one of his at least 5 identities was a straight-up FF villain, but that story was iconic and also he's tied to them by blood, so. Thoughts on Kang? Please don't just talk about how the MCU handled him.

I'm not gonna talk about the MCU at all actually, but Kang was a colossally stupid idea for a next big bad/Thanos from the get-go, he is just not great villain material. The issue with Kang, besides the time travel variant bullshit complications that have their uses but are clearly a major factor against his viability as a villain (and besides him being overwhelmingly a classic Avengers villain and classic Avengers being overwhelmingly boring), is that everything is too utilitarian with him. His core concept makes it so that either he wins too easily, because he has literally all the time and resources he could possibly need to win, or he loses despite having all the time and resources he could possibly need to win, which makes him a colossal loser. He has all-powerful resources and is kinda inevitably fated to win, and is still a chump loser who is also inevitably fated to lose and become an even more boring person at the end.

Nothing Kang does matters, because all of his victories are cheating, and everything he does can be erased and retconned away with another time jump, and so he's forever stuck between anti-climactic boring victories in a vacuum, because he can bend time, and being a chump, because that's what you are if you're bending time and still losing. I heard Kang described as the cosmic equivalent of a bored rich white hunter who goes to hunt animals in nature preserves just because he can, except the animals are constantly kicking his ass, and that's really fun, that's a good character to have around, but that's not really thrilling big bad material.

I think Kang works fine in his current role as someone who will never materially be a big deal supervillain, in a world where Doctor Doom exists, but is powerful and far-reaching and full of enough potentially interesting bullshit that you can pin stuff on him. Not at all an exciting villain to put big stuff in, but as some horrible guy everyone has to deal with, Father Time as a pompous punchable and horribly petty supervillain who can always make a situation cosmically volatile by showing up, is a thing you can bounce good stuff out of in 1-to-1 character interactions, even with himself.

The very things he has going for him as a character make him suck if you try and make him the main threat to take down, but he's good connective tissue and a decent interim villain and a nice fixed quantity to pin dynamics around, and every direction you can take his character is covered by an alternate identity he has, which are essentially different characters, and that can be interesting too, having a time traveling villain fragmented enough that he can sit on a circle with versions of himself at potentially different points of his life and they will be essentially different characters, that kind of stuff is pretty interesting to me.

To me he's like Apocalypse, in the sense that he's really only interesting to me as a character who exists in this world and not so much as a villain, but at least as a villain Apocalypse says and does cool sick shit on occasion, where as Kang, despite some efforts (I did like his solo mini), ultimately only interesting for what he brings out of others. Which can be good, again I do like him somewhat, I think his existence as a major player/threat the Avengers have to deal with is perfectly justified, but he is an Avengers problem largely because he's not good enough to be a Fantastic Four problem, hence why, as Kang the Conqueror, he is consigned to a suitably mediocre existence, as the number two time-traveling supervillain of the world.

[angelsanarchy]

Fever Dreams: Mike x Y/N One Shot Series PRT 08

Tagging: @icarus-star @chainsawgvtsfvck @romanroyapoligist @liquidsmoothdomme @madamemaximoff06 @drazenka @blacksoul-27 @444rockstargf @kappasbbgirl @luzclarita57 @tempt-ress

Mike was salty. No matter how much he tried to pretend he wasn't, he was annoyed that some muscle head got to go home with Y/n the other night. He knew he couldn't ask Sicky without being completely tortured about it so he just kept his annoyance to himself.

Instead of focussing on that, he decided that he would try and make some extra money outside of the business. He knew there were rules in Y/n's bar but if she wasn't here to see him hustle some chumps in pool, what harm could it cause?

Billiards was a skill he picked up from his dad. The old bastard never taught him any other life skills except how to shake people down on a pool table. Although he broke the one rule his father had taught him which was to get in and get out so no one picks up on the hustle.

He was up $1400 when the last group of guys he beat started getting pissed off.

"This motherfucker took $600 from me earlier. He's out here scamming." The thick man said shoving Mike into the wall. Mike put his hands up and chuckled as he took a swig from his beer.

"Listen man, I beat you fair and square-" He cut Mike off by slapping the bottle out of his hand sending it exploding into the wall.

"What the fuck!?" Mike wanted to argue but one guy grabbed him by the shirt while the other put a gun in his face. People started to scramble a bit and Mike felt his heart hammering against his ribs.

"WHOA WHOA WHOA TIny! Take it easy!" Y/n practically flew over the bar and stepped between Mike and the guys ready to put a bullet in his skull.

"I thought there was no hustling in your bar, shorty? This little prick's out here stealing money from us." He explained to Y/n who kept her eyes on him.

"He's new in town. He clearly didn't know the rules." Y/n offered but the guy didn't care.

"He's gonna learn the hard way not to fuck around." He dug the gun barrel into his forehead.

"Tiny, you need to back off. This is Leff's nephew so let's not get messy." The mention of Leff's relation made Tiny back off putting the gun down.

"Drinks are on me for the next week to make up for what you lost tonight and I will make sure he's caught up on the rules. Sound good?" Y/n patted the man's chest and he nodded at her.

"You got damn lucky bitch." The guys let go of Mike and he straightened himself out. Y/n grabbed him by the ear and drug him towards the bar.

"Are you trying to get yourself killed? I told you, only clean games in here." Y/n scolded. Mike rolled his eyes.

"Why are people so afraid of Leff? It's stupid." Mike shrugged rubbing his ear.

"Because he's killed people. People typically like to steer clear of guys who don't hesitate to pull a trigger." Y/n explained with a lowered tone as she wiped the bar top down and grabbed a few beers to send to Tiny and his friends.

"What about you? Have you killed people?" Mike asked curiously making Y/n pause.

"That's a need to know and you don't need to know. Stop being a brat." She gave his cheek a tiny slap and he nodded his head. No answer was always an answer.

"Look I'm sorry, I promise to behave. You have my word." Mike apologized earning a smile from Y/n.

"Good boy. That's what I like to hear." She praised him sending bolt of electricity to the crotch of his pants. What he wouldn't give to have his head between her knees with her hands tugging on his hair telling him how much of a good boy he was.

"So...where's your boyfriend tonight?" Mike blurted catching a confused look from her.

"What boyfriend? I told you I don't have a boyfriend." She said opening another beer and sipping it before handing it to him.

"The gorilla you left with the other night might need a reminder of your relationship status." Mike sipped the beer and tried not to look at Y/n as she grinned at him.

"Someone sounds a little jealous." She teased.

"You jealous of Malik?" She asked putting her hands on top of his.

"Depends." He shrugged.

"On?" She cocked her eyebrow.

"Did he fuck you?" Mike asked watching her purse her lips at the question.

"Maybe." She replied with a hint of a smirk. Mike nodded in understanding.

"Then yeah I'm absoltely jealous." Mike wasn't afraid to admit it. He wanted to fuck Y/n three ways from Sunday and twice on Monday but it seemed like every time they got a little closer, a little more intimate, she would pull back.

"Mike, you're too sweet to waste your time with someone like me. There are plenty of women in New York that you can shack up with. Nicer, more wholesome girls who Leff won't lose his fucking mind about." She laughed.

"It's my time, I can waste it how I want. Besides, I know you're just as interested in me as I am with you. It's only a matter of time before you get past all those bullshit restrictions and take a shot on me. All I got is time baby." He smiled as he drained his beer and she shook her head at him.

"You're gonna get us both in trouble." She bit her lip knowing that Mike was definitely the kind of trouble she liked.

"Yeah but you like it." He winked at her before grabbing his coat from the rack and putting his hat back on. This time he would leave her guessing. If she wanted to play the game, he was down for it.

[taggedmemes]

SENTENCE MEME ⟶ OXVENTURE PRESENTS: DEADLANDS / ch3 always feel free to tweak the sentence to fit your muse.

'YOU'RE A DEAD MAN! DEAD MAN WALKING, THAT'S YOU!'

'you can box him up to go.'

'isn't there some kind of gravedigger's union?'

'aw, you read the rules? aw dang...'

'you just stood there. you didn't do anything! you didn't even try!'

'now we've gotta get justice.'

'i wasn't there, but that sounds awfully wise.'

'oh, sorry, hang on. i've gotta kill someone real quick.'

'he'll think you're trying to kill him. which you are.'

'you've just gotta push that anger all the way down until the time is right.'

'well, it's already dusted in opium.'

'young man, do you know what jerky is?'

'can you move away from the house now, please?'

'we could pack the coffin with dynamite.'

'you'd be amazed how many people try to bribe me to declare people dead.'

'so you take bribes, you say?'

'people who love opium famously think they don't need any more opium.'

'well i enjoy getting paid money.'

'lost to a child. embarrassing.'

'doctors make mistakes all the time!'

'he might have the appearance of a dead child...'

'do you know what'll happen to me? do you know what he'll do to me if he finds out?'

'he won't be capable of anything when he's dead!'

'do what i tell you, or... i'm gonna have to hurt you.'

'man i get a kick outta you!'

'i don't know, i'm young, i don't think about illness.'

'looks like this chump doesn't wanna die!'

'i seen quicker molasses than her draw!'

'what kind of contest is this?!'

'i've been countin'. he's only got one bullet left.'

'i drank a lot of whiskey today, i could do with a milk.'

'once we've stripped anything valuable off the bodies what's the point?'

'then he comes back into town and he's all shooting the ground and making us dance and all that kind of stuff...'

'i'm increasingly not worried about making good decisions.'

'he seems pretty smart and pretty evil.'

'never seen him love on anybody.'

'he's very angry. that's a sort of weakness.'

'but you'll be dead because he will have shot you at the same time.'

'no one's this lucky this many years in a row.'

'does he look like his spirit has been crushed?'

'listen up fella, i didn't wanna do this...'

'you ain't so humble though.'

'let's push over something big at the same time.'

'there's a piano in the saloon; you go push the piano over.'

'we'll ask his cold, dead corpse, i guess.'

'well now i'm mad. i'm getting increasingly mad and vengeful.'

'it's like this fella's doing some kind of witchcraft or magic. i wish i knew more about this stuff.'

'i don't understand it, but there's something going on.'

'if things go weird, you throw this at him and i'll do the rest.'

'dynamite's not a weapon, it's a tool.'

'it's like any other tool. like a hammer.'

'this is just my walking-around dynamite.'

'if anything happens to me, you kill this man dead.'

'he was disinclined to hand over his weapons. it's his way, so.'

'I DON'T TALK TO DEAD MEN!'

'this is slightly awkward, i was mostly interested in talking to your friend.'

'i've been impressed by the way he killed those men.'

'you line your enemies up in a row and you gun them down.'

'i've not seen many come through with skills like him.'

'let me just go run it up the flagpole.'

'he's a big fan. he likes how you shot those people in the throat.'

'folks like that, i don't think they like people who're as good as them.'

'but... not above cheating. love to cheat.'

'if you get an opportunity to just outright kill him...'

'seems a shame for a young man of such obvious talents to die out here in the middle of nowhere.'

'i don't see your name on it!'

'there's no need to be raising your voice now.'

'this is the emergency prybar for when we put someone in a coffin who's not ready.'

'you're a dead man! the doctor said!'

'i'm glad you're back but, um, we're in the middle of a firefight outside.'

'springin' out of the grave!'

'did i get shot? or did i just get nearly shot?'

'we have a man to kill! shoot now, ask questions later!'

'i'll duel you right now! i'm young and i'm crazy!'

[bigasswritingmagnet]

Gilgamesh, Son of Zantabraxus (2/3)

Fandom: Girl Genius Pairing: Agatha/Gil Summary: Twenty years ago, Queen Zantabraxus gave birth to twins. Twenty years ago, the queen's consort, Chump, took one of their children and vanished. Zantabraxus chose to let him go, to spare her second child. In one universe, Zantabraxus raised her daughter. In this one, she raised her son. Agatha joins the circus and meets Gil, who has almost as many secrets as Agatha does. They help each other get stronger, in unexpected ways. And maybe fall in love a little bit but they don't really have time to deal with all that right now.

<Ch 1 | AO3 Link

It was only when Krosp bit her on the leg and said “Go answer the door!” that Agatha woke up enough to hear the knocking. Blearily, she tugged the window curtain aside enough to see that the outside world was lit by the pearly pre-dawn light.

“’M coming,” she called, dragging herself out from under the nice warm covers, glaring at Krosp as he promptly curled up in the warm spot and went back to sleep.

It was Gil.

He looked nervous and twitchy, bouncing a little on his toes.

“Hi,” he said. “Good morning. How are you?”

Agatha blinked slowly, trying to get her brain in gear. Gil shut his eyes briefly and muttered something that sounded like “Ashtara strike me down.”

“Sleepy,” was all she could manage, too tired to even be annoyed at the abrupt awakening.

“Right. Sorry. I know it’s early but I wanted to talk to you before everyone got up.”

He looked embarrassed, but his nervousness faded slightly, growing more serious.

“I wanted to apologize for yesterday. That was...I don’t really know what happened but none of the words that came out of my mouth were what I was actually trying to say. At all. I’ve been carrying that weight since I was a kid, and you made me feel...I…you were...”

Some inner sense told Agatha that if she let Gil ramble any further, he’d say something stupid again, so she put a hand on his arm.

“Thank you,” she said. “And I’m glad I could help.”

Gil beamed at her. Agatha waited, but he just kept grinning.

“Was...that it?”

“Yeah...No!” Gil shook himself. “No, I want to repay you. And don’t say I don’t have to, because I do. The Baron is looking for you. We can help you hide, but sooner or later he’ll track you down, and when he does, you’ll need to fight. I can teach you. I want to teach you.” 

“How?” growled a voice from down by Agatha’s knees. Krosp glared up at Gil, suspiciously. “You’re a glorified caravan guard with a few flashy dance moves. What could you teach her?”

“Krosp!” Agatha hissed. Gil’s jaw worked back and forth; his eyes grew dark. Somehow, Agatha got the feeling that Krosp was being a lot more insulting than he was trying to be.

“I keep us safe in the wastelands. Isn’t that enough proof I’m a real warrior?”

“It’s very sweet of you to offer,” Agatha said. “Maybe you could teach me how to throw a proper punch.”

She’d always wanted to be able to punch somebody.

Gil stared at her for a moment, then tipped his head back.

“I’m going to have to tell you,” he said, although he seemed to be mostly talking to himself. He dragged a hand down his face and groaned. “Ugh, okay, can I come inside? I need to explain something to you but I’d rather nobody hear us.” 

Agatha stepped aside to let him in, figuring turnabout was fair play. Krosp scurried off and leapt onto the top bunk of the bed, his tail lashing back and forth as he hunkered low and glared at Gil.

“Watch yourself, pal,” he said. “I’ve got my eyes on you.”

Gil shut the door behind himself and guided Agatha over to the table and sat her down. He took a deep breath, bracing himself, then spread his arms in a pose so dramatic Agatha had to fight down a giggle.

“I am Gilgamesh, son of Zantabraxus, Prince of Skifander!” 

Agatha’s eyes lit up with interest.

“The warrior queen’s hidden jewel!”

Gil’s mouth popped open. His arms dropped to his sides. Whatever reaction he’d been expecting, that was not it.

“My uncle used to tell me stories about it,” Agatha said.

“You believe me?”

“Of course.”

“...Huh.” Gil sat down on Agatha’s bed, still staring at her. “Well. How about that.”

“Did you think I wouldn’t?”

“You are the first person I’ve met who’s even heard of Skifander. I stopped telling people six months after I got here because they all thought I was crazy or lying.”

“Why would they think that?”

Gil gave her a sideways smile.

“Because I can’t prove it. Pirates attacked the airship as soon as we got to Europa. I was the only survivor, and any maps or notes were destroyed when the airship blew up.”

“The pirates blew up the airship?” Agatha exclaimed, aghast.

“No, I blew up the airship, to give myself time to get away on the—” Suddenly he looked sheepish.

“On the…?”

“The...little flying machine I built out of spare parts,” Gil mumbled, and cleared his throat. “Anyway, I got sick of people thinking I was crazy or lying, so I stopped telling people.” 

“Does Master Payne know?”

Gil snorted.

“Circus folks would be even less likely to believe me,” Gil said. “Not that I blame them. They know I’m from a place called Skifander, but I never gave any details, and they never asked.”

“You could tell them now,” Agatha suggested. “Since I’m here.”

Gil waved a hand.

“I really don’t mind. Honestly, it’s been nice not having to be a prince. Might be even nicer now that I let myself be a Spark, too,” he added with a soft smile.

“You know, I’m…” Agatha hesitated. Should she tell him? If anyone would understand about impossible secret identities, it’d be Gil.

No, she decided. It was too dangerous. She barely knew him, after all. When they got to Mechanicsburg, she might tell him.

“I’m glad you told me, and I appreciate you trusting me with it, but I’m not really sure what this has to do with the training thing.”

“I’m getting there. Skifander is...I don’t know your word for it. Inheritance passes from mother to daughter, and our queens are warriors. The royal line guards its secrets fiercely—if I’d had a sister, the crown and the training would have gone to her and her alone. Technically I still shouldn’t have been taught, but my mother…”

He waved a hand.

“Anyway, my point is, I’m not a circus performer offering to teach you a few tricks. I’m a scion of a line of warrior queens, trained by the great warriors of Skifander to become one of the great warriors of Skifander, offering to pass that training on to you.”

“Then...then it would be my honor to accept.”

Gil smiled a smile that made Agatha’s heart flip flop in her chest, leaving her so breathless it took a few seconds to register his words.

“Then let’s get started. Come on, outside.”

“Wait, now?”

“Of course,” Gil said, surprised by the question.

“But it’s barely dawn!”

“Training usually starts during childhood, and the Baron’s actively hunting you. We don’t have any time to waste. First thing’s first, your clothes—”

“Hold on,” Agatha said, suspiciously. “This isn’t going to involve running around in some skimpy, ‘exotic warrior aesthetic’ outfit is it?”

“...No,” Gil said, his expression neutral. “You’ll want to wear something easy to move in that you don’t mind getting dirty or washing a lot. You get changed, and I’ll go put the—I mean, I’ll go get uh. Stuff. Right. Meetyououtsidebye.”

Ten minutes later, Agatha was outside in a loose-fitting shirt and trousers, and Gil was walking very quickly back to her from the direction of the props and costumes wagon.

“What were you doing?”

“Nothing! Nothing. I thought I needed a...uhhh...bo staff!" He shrugged in a helpless sort of way. "But I couldn’t find one.”

“You mean like that one?” She pointed to the long wooden staff leaning against the side of her wagon. Gil stared at it.

“Oh. Uh…Oops!” he said suddenly, with a too-bright grin. “I guess I already got it and…forgot. Haha.”  

“Are you alright?” Agatha asked. “You seem nervous.”

Gil’s smile slipped away and he shifted his weight uncomfortably.

“I’ll be honest, I’m not entirely sure I’m allowed to do this,” Gil admitted. “Like I said, we guard these secrets very closely. Warriors are permitted to teach only their daughters and one other person—ever, in their lives. And that person isn’t supposed to pass it on to anyone.

“I’m not sure if I technically count as being her exception or her heir, but no one ever explicitly told me I couldn’t train anyone so…I should be fine. I think.”

He cleared his throat and put his hands on her shoulders. Agatha could feel their warmth through the shirt. Gil’s eyes were locked with hers, more serious than she’d ever seen him.

“Agatha Clay. By the warrior tradition of my house, I am allowed to train one other—probably—and I have chosen you. The bond between us will be stronger than that of friends, of family, of—” For a second, Gil’s cheeks went pink and his hands twitched. “Of lovers. From this day on, we are kolee-dok-zumil.”

Agatha looked up at him gravely, silent for a long moment.

“Which is…?”

Gil blinked, startled, and then laughed a little. He released Agatha’s shoulders and ambled over to the steps of Agatha’s wagon, where he’d leaned a bo staff. 

“There’s no real direct translation,” he told her. “Most people would probably choose ‘teacher and student’, but it’s more complex. It’s a noun, but contextually it implies action, irrevocable change enacted on one by another.”

He picked up the staff and twirled it idly as he crossed back to Agatha.

“To me it evokes the idea of a chemical reaction, although others compare it to a smelter and ore.”

Gil held the staff horizontally in two hands, considering it.

“I think for right now, you should think of it as—”

There was a sudden pain at the backs of her knees, and she was staring up at the sky in a breathless, weightless moment that ended with gravity’s inevitability and the jarring thump of her skull on the grass.

Gil’s face came into view, grinning ear to ear. 

“Grindstone and knife.”

.

Agatha did not so much as twitch when Gil set the bowl beside her head. She remained face down, flat on the ground, utterly immobile. Gil had stopped training when she laid down like that, and she was afraid if she moved so much as a finger, he’d start again.

“Is it poison.”

“No.”

“I will only eat it if it results in death.” 

Gil settled back against a rock and ate a spoonful of oatmeal from his own bowl.

“You should be proud of yourself,” he said. “You kept going much longer than I thought you’d be able to, considering you’ve obviously got no training, no discipline, and no martial skills whatsoever—and we definitely need to work on your cardiovascular system.” 

Agatha let out a groan of despair.

“Don’t worry,” Gil said, reassuringly. “The first day is the worst on purpose. The zumil is pushed to their absolute limit, so the kolee knows what needs work, and so you can tell when the limit gets better.”

With great effort, Agatha managed to lift her head to look up at him, hopefully.

“Does this mean the rest of the training won’t hurt?”

Gil laughed, crushing Agatha’s hope into teeny tiny pieces.

“No.”

[groovetrill]

Back back, way back, I used to fret that my honey

Would play me for one with more papes, still it was funny

Cause she paid no mind as jerks lurked constantly

And my insecurity turned into maturity (I matured)

As the years pass I find it hard to be monogamous

So do other brothers, so the scene's still synonymous

Catch crazy glares when I'm with female company

Some think I'm a softie and they step to her in front of me

So in public places I am often found in my trunk

Reaching for bats, and smack goes his spunk

Because I have the right to riff, and in spite

Of a few protests, progress and I might smite you

Once you come, your fronts, they got no future

Blunts blur my sight, get left and right suture

I know this, and also notice advances:

I peeped them papers in which he slipped to my dip

With numerals, and you're soon to roast thinking I'm jelly

Cause numbers left in the gutter lead to lonely tellies (telephones)

(God damn, why won't she call?)

Cause we see who's pee-wee and we see who's me

The difference is Vaseline: You're slipping while I'm skin-dipping

Grips, and grips of chumps my way:

Slumped from back-bumps on rumps, cause I flay

So why play, cause Tajai has to flip

I found mine, so find your own companionship

Every time I see you in the world

You always step my girl

But ask yourself homeboy. Why is that?

Brothers get jealous when I'm chilling with my dip

Just because she's flyer, you try to, play me like Milton Bradley

I'm mad, G, just because you've gotta settle for Maggie

Or Agnes, maybe Mathilda the Witch, yo

I'mma have to beat you if you call her a bitch, yo

Keep your mind off what's mine for the keeping (yup)

Or I'll put a bomb in your house while you're sleeping (boom!)

Keep your distance, Hiero is watching you

Step by step, I never slept, I gots to do lots

Cause you brothers never respect who you should (me)

Try to be my friend, and it might do you good (yeah)

Get down with the program, hey yo man yo

Don't even look at my girl on a slow jam

Of course not, you'll never get that close (nah)

To her soft skin, rest in a coffin

If you ever disrespect, I'll twist your neck

If I've got a bat, I might get pissed and flex (boom)

Cause your tramp ain't got a stamp of approval

When I get mine with this rhyme, your crew will

Have to learn the hard way, I'll have to slam you like Hammer

So I bet you'll all break

Even though his song is wack, mine's not

Your girl will never get the props that mine got

Every time I see you in the world

You always step my girl

But ask yourself homeboy. Why is that?

[tazzflasharts]

I have lived a life putting everything I got into love.

Despite all the people saying I was going to grow up to be 1 of the worst monsters in the history from a very young age.

Iv spent my whole life trying to prove everyone wrong.

That that will never be my legacy...

At 15 years old i made a vow of non violence.

And I'm not perfect but I've kept my vow till December of 2023. When I was forced to defend myself with chest bumps to get my now x off me.

This life has thrown everything at me to trip me up and make me slip. But I always found a way to solve conflicts with out getting physical.

I admit when I'm put in a bad spot I can be very verbal. But through thick and thin I was the guy friends can depend on to help defuse and work out problems.

This is the true man I have become at my core ....

Deeply in my heart and soul no matter how much I fight it. Or how much it destroys my life.

I'm drawn to helping people.

But yet I never received any of that love back....

1 relationship after another they trump the last on how low they can treat me then spit me out.

From love. Friends and family. It's all the same. And in 20 years it will all be the same but with different people.

From all the abuse I take. And all the shit I eat for trying to pursue love and happiness.

And I always bounce back. I always hold on to the best parts of me.

But this live is killing me more and more with every dirty jab live deals me.

I can't do it anymore. The love everyone and all that guru stuff. How can I tell the world about my views on love and life.

When I have only had the worst parts of love in my life. Maybe y'all can't see me for me. Just a past that not who I am anymore. Or maybe you heard all about me from someone I had bad history with.

But only the few that are real enough to get to know me. Know who I am and what I'm about...

I will never apologize for my past ever again y'all can get over it or be gone. Like all the fakes that fell out my life already...

I expect that there is no love out there with the capacity to love me. And so I fold on that to.

And as for my need to help people is at a all time low.

Iv faced to much death, heart break. And deformation of may name.

That that man I was is gone. Every fiber of who I was has been torn down brick by brick.

And every time I think I can't fall any further. That's when things get worse.

Life has broken me in ways I don't even understand yet. But I will get back up. I will move forward but I will never allow that other me back ever again.

He was a sucker. A duck and a Patsy.

I'm fixing my car. And getting my driver's license and I'm getting out of this town before it kills the last bit of me live hasn't yet.

If I'm worth nothing and invisible to all women I have a interest in. And all the universe has for me are broken jaded hateful people.

Then I'll find me a nice little whole in the wall spot to live out my days in peace as the hermit life is making me.

I always thought there was someone for everyone. And that everyone has there spot in the world they can thrive.

But this last 5 plus years. I can now see. Some people like me and others I know. That's just not true. And probably never was. It's a fantasy society tells us cuz it's easier then the truth

That some of us don't get to have that feeling of family.

Some of us don't get to have there own house and the financial ability to sustain it.

Some of us are betas that get robbed of everything that matters in life to us.

Some of us will never know what it's like to have someone that loves us so much they can't live with out us.

Some of us will only know the kinda friends that cut us down and take love and jobs and anything else they want from us because they are the alphs of the world and we are nobody

If you are not ready for real love friendship and family then I don't need or want you in my life.

I'm done with the lies fairy tails and smoke blown up my ass.

Time for y'all to find a new chump to crush

[universalzones]

"I'm not talking about some petty thief's or two bit chumps. I'm talking about the worst of the worst who clearly aren't doing anything to change, and that's a small fucking list. Eggman, Mimic, and Clutch, that's three people. I want a fucking line Sonic. A line of when enough is enough. You want to try and loop me in with them? How many people have I killed? How many times have I ACTUALLY ruled the world? How many illegal operations do I run? HOW MANY PEOPLE HAVE I FUCKED OVER, KIDNAPPED, AND TURNED THEM IN SOME CYBORG FREAKs?!" Surge was clearly done trying to be calm.

"Where's the fucking line Sonic?! When do you say enough is enough and STOP trying to save the people who just keep hurting everyone and the world over and over?! How many times does someone like me or Kit have to happen before you realize not everyone can fucking change?! No, you always act like there's nothing wrong and that everything is fine! IT'S NOT!" The tenrec couldn't keep her cool, though didn't want to punch Sonic. So she dash's over to the nearest wall and punch's full force, making a hole bigger than her. The speedster breathing was rapid, though slowly calmed down.

"I know I already said that, though I don't think you understand how it really feels. You're trying to do it because you think it's helpful, though it ain't. All it does is make it feel like you're just ignoring the problem, which is me." Surge could say her issues were all from Starline, though they weren't. Maybe a good chunk of them, though the tenrec couldn't blame it all on him. "I'm not asking for a fucking pity party, though do something that crack a joke or smile. Be fucking angry or upset, shit maybe even be a bit sad at what's happened. I don't fucking know." The tenrec felt like she was losing her mind.

"Just, stop ignoring the fucking problem. Can you honestly say you don't feel some sort of way about me? Yeah, I know you put most of it on Starline, though the whole Eggman tech Wisp stuff was me. Working with Clutch was me. Shit, it was me that ended up making your gear go all weird at the start of the Grand Prix. Give me something, anything." Surge wasn't sure where she was going with this. There was much more important shit to do, yet the tenrec couldn't let it go.

==========================================================

To saw Rowan was caught off guard was an understatement, barely enough focus and time to kick Mimic off from the noise. The lemur's eardrums felt like they were going to burst if this kept going on, though he did notice all the normal sized Wisp back off, looking at each other confused. At least they seemed to grab the Wisp Mimic had in his hand.

The large Wisp would wrap a tentacle around both of them and finally stopped the noise now that she had them both to where they couldn't run. Then it began looking between them, not seeming very amused about this. "🕈︎♒︎♓︎♍︎♒︎ □︎■︎♏︎ □︎♐︎ ⍓︎□︎◆︎ ♓︎⬧︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ □︎■︎♏︎ ♒︎◆︎❒︎⧫︎♓︎■︎♑︎ ⧫︎♒︎□︎⬧︎♏︎ ♍︎♒︎♓︎●︎♎︎❒︎♏︎■︎✍︎" This was getting tiresome.

"Look, I'm sure you just asked who's who, though I don't think the other guy is going to be very willing to give himself up. I have one of the shadow Wisp's that's been traveling with me though, I'm sure they can tell I'm the real one." Rowan knew just saying he wasn't Mimic wouldn't cut it.

The Wisp raised a brow, seeming not to completely believe Rowan, though began looking around yet none of the Wisp came up. That's when she noticed one was missing, looking out of the Shadow Void, seeing them trying to open a portal with other Wisp and two Mobians. "🕈︎♋︎♓︎⧫︎📬︎📬︎📬︎ ♓︎⬧︎ ⧫︎♒︎♋︎⧫︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ♒︎♏︎♎︎♑︎♏︎♒︎□︎♑︎ ✋︎🕯︎❖︎♏︎ ♒︎♏︎♋︎❒︎♎︎ ♋︎♌︎□︎◆︎⧫︎✍︎" She'd open a portal up to allow the Wisp as well as Sonic and Surge to enter.

Sonic's body tensed up as Surge laid a ton on him, and on some level He didn't even completely disagree with her. Some people wouldn't change no matter how badly you walloped them. He never thought Eggman would change and the two tried to kill one another all the time. the only thing that kept him from offing Tinker was because deep down he wanted to believe he'd reformed even if it was amnesia. Tinker was not Eggman and he couldn't bring himself to do it. His eyes closed as he turned to lock his eyes on Surge a moment later. His stance more defensive and as a whole he dropped the joking antics for a more serious talk with her.

" Alright... let's assume i agreed to your way of thinking. Ok I kill Eggman, he's an enemy i get that. Say we off Mimic he'll never change either right? Clutch is no better... he's a criminal war lord right? What about Rough and Tumble? held some folks hostage... idiots maybe but guess we off those two... Gmerl... Shadow... Chaos.... all of them did bad things in the past... so they get killed to. "

her dropped his arms and looked her dead in the eyes with a serious look in them.

" What about you and kit? you hurt people to... better get rid of you both just in case. You see that's the issue with killing Surge where does it end? and the more you do it the easier it gets. That's the real problem with killing--- It's not that it's hard to do Surge. it's just to damn easy... and then when you stand on that mountain of bodies, all alone... with the world cowering in fear! can you still look yourself in the eyes and say it was worth it? "

Sonic took a deep breath and run his hand down his face, having to let his anger go. Cause he was mad, he was angry because he knew deep down Surge was better then this. He knew she was. he'd seen it during the grand Prix. Her smile, her drive to do the right thing! But here she was falling back down and giving into Starlines program.

" ... I can't let you do it Surge... even if he's the worst. We don't get to make that judgement. We can't... no matter how much you think this is the answer... It's not. Don't do this... and please don't make me fight you again not over this... I don't want to fight over this... but i will if i have to ..."

================================================

Mimic didn't like the way that Giant wisp was looking at him! the closer it got the more worried he got. His eyes shifted to Rowan and he realized what was about to happen! in an act of utter desperation! Mimic bolted across the platform toward Rowan and TACKLED him! Rolling across the platform! as his body shifted into Rowan! a second before the room was filled with that horrific scream!

He stopped dead in his tracks and held his ears! taking every once of his will power to hold his shape! his only and last hope was to confuse the Wisps over which one of them was the real Rowan! If he could just convince them he was the real deal, maybe he could escape!

Truthfully? It was an act of desperation! He had no other options and the Wisp mother seemed furious!

[ducknotinarow]

⏰ - 2k7 Rasey

| send to ⏰ to peek into my muses memories [part one]

Anger, was all Raph knew. Anger was Raph ever was. He had heard it all his life after all. Told to chill out, called hot head so many times one would think that was his name. Joke were mad at the expense of it, anger was his personality one could even say. It was all he ever was. Angry. Even Bishop saw that in him called him sturdy its why that captured that time. Making mention of something very angry deep inside of the turtle. Raph knew about it, sometimes when he just got a bit to out of control he went blind. All he could see was red fitting. It matched the color he wore after all. So blowing things out of proportion wasn't new to the red banded turtle ever. Small things pissed him off like Mikey chewing to loud, big things pissed him off like stupid turf wars they get dragged in. Nut nothing was worse than looking at Casey right now.

As rain was drenching the city that night, near making for a quite peaceful night as he was out and about looking for any one causing trouble. Rain didn't stop crime from going on after all. If anything it made for the right setting for some to still strike. He hadn't had a chance to grab his stuff just wanting to get out of the lair. Needing to be out of the lair, sure risking the chance of getting sick from the rain but he didn't care all that much. Stomping some jerks might just he don't know help him feel something again. In a sense he was right. As he over heard the sound of a gang of likely young purple dragons going on about some chump they just beat up. Raphael figured he deal with them later. From the sounds of it who ever they just mugged got the worse of it. Left in the alley didn't put up a fight it seemed. Man this poor chump, Raphael opted to go find them if they were beat down enough they be to out of it he could dump at the nearest hospital. But never would Raphael expect this called chump to be Casey.

Sat in the alley way, limp and battered out. Was easy to piece what happened of course it just didn't make a lick of sense. Since when did anyone get one over Casey? Worse some newbie Dragons? Raph had see Casey whoop their asses for years. Hell Casey had gone toe to toe with more than street punks, always ready to join in on any fight. Thing was Raphael feels like not a single blow from those punk was what had Casey like this. Watching as they lifted their head up his breath caught in his throat. Fear took him over suddenly he never feared Casey gaze it was like the first time being spotted by a human. nothing but terror in him as question after question come over his thoughts ringing over and over. Unsure what to do. What would Casey do? what would Casey even say to him right now. Nothing.

Casey did nothing.

For some reason that was worse. Raphael thought they would hate seeing him the second they looked his way. And Casey should hate him. He expected a cold gaze, he expect frost bite when they yelled. Nothing Casey just dropped his head. Watching how the frame of their hair cling to the side of their face. How their shoulders lowered.Casey was clearly ready to stay like this all night. Was he not even going to try and pick himself up?

You did this.

Raphael knew the second he found Casey like this didn't mean he needed his mind to point out what should be obvious out like that. This was all his doing and he knew that! He can see it for himself. He stayed away for a reason he left for a reason but it's funny. Right now he can't remember what it was. No this was nothing but regret now because if he hadn't done what he did? Raphael could simply kneels down. He would lift a hand and push back wet strand soft hair while moving to cup Casey's cheek in the palm of his hand. Looking their face over. As he would tuck blue hair back behind thier ear. Back then though? Casey would smile spit out the blood that gather in his mouth even maybe and claim they just got lucky.

This? This wasn't luck. Casey let them do this. Casey could easily taken those guys out with out breaking a sweat. He just didn't. Couldn't. That might be the better word to use here. Look at him just took the beating and is sitting in the rain like this. He didn't have it in him to fight back. He hardly has it in him to be mad over what happened or stand up dust himself off and go home.

You broke him.

Shut up!

You broke him, you thought he break from being with you and did in fact break him.

Shut it!

"Ya can' stay in the rain." Raph finally says waiting, daring Casey to move. Hoping he would he'll praying Casey would move. But he would not an inch even. He can't leave them like this. He should but he can't. Not Casey, not ever Casey.

Moving to crouch he reached over ready for Casey to jerk away, to snap his head up and give Raphael a look that screamed 'I dear you' or a look thst threatened Raphael might not get out this with out a some kind of sign. Nothing. And that might be worse.

---

Casey was quiet and still even when Raph picked him up and carried him back to his apartment. Raphael expected them to he don't know argue and say he didn't want Raph's help. Not that it would have mattered. Even if Casey put up a fight Raphael would have dragged them kicking and screaming. He wishes that was the situation, not this.

Down to a pattern guess the body never turly forgets as he easily worked up the fire escapse and gets the window open. Like he always had done before. Getting Casey to the couch he once again looked at them but nothing. Raph paid a second to look around the place, swallowing thickly. He thought about asking where thier first aid kit was but he simply quirked his beak and stepped away. Hating how familiar but forgin this all was now.

Mentally fighting with himself, he thought he was doing what was best by Casey. All the stuff they talked about in a future that just could never be. Discussions of going to Casey's family's farm house. Sneaking into games to watch from the rafters. Plans for a future together. Raph moving in with Casey permanently. The reason for the key he gave back. The idea of maybe a family? Raph seemed to like kids. Casey would like to have a kid. But now those were all memories Raphael selfish kept. A version of Casey he kept for himself alone. The Casey that gave him a soft smile and gaze, well telling them he wanted Raphael in there with all those plans. Being back here was bringing all of that back. Because it was here they had a lot of those talks.

Fawning over babies Casey got to watch together. Listening to how Casey babled to them and how it got Raph's heart to flutter every time. How Casey didn't care about Raoh bad kitchen habits and Raph would jab at thier horrible cooking ones.

He felt like he could breath. Grabbing the kit, and turned back to the couch. Begging them to shout to tell him to leave. Rapheal needed Cadry tofi the faintest action of dislike towards the turtle but. How did he explain it? It was like Casey wasn't Casey any more. Sure he looked like Casey and it was clearly Casey seeing as a mutant turtles sighting was odd at all. But, he also wasn't Casey at all. Stopping to stare at Casey once more.

Raphael wasn't worth this. Casey letting himself come apart like this. Casey should be better off woth out Raphael in his life. Everyone would be he was so certien. But of that wasn't the case? Then we'll then what was the fucking point of what he did? Was this some stupid lesson?! To tell him it was for nothing! He hurt Casey for nothing! He broke up with them and never should had done that?!? What was he meant to do? He swallows it all down, keeping it all at bay the best he could manage. Before setting the first aid kit beside.

Rapheal left because Casey was meant to be better off without him. He didn't look better he looked.

Miserable.

Oh so you thibk he be better if you stayed?

Part of Raph, did in fact did think that. Not sure if it was a hope for having it all back. That was turly selfish of him uh? Or if in general because Raphael always looked out for Casey. Had his back no matter what. So, in honor of that staple of thoer friendship he fucked up as well?

"Tell me to go an' I will." Fingers still holding the handle of the kit. Awkward as hell course it was. They were exs now. Didn't mean he wouldn't help if they needed the help. Though there's a chance Casey might not even care. Least tell him to leave Raphael dosen't care how much that would hurt to hear at least. At least it would be better than this.

[angstfactory]

As Cassidy approached, Jesse's stance adjusted. He was prepared this time, for another strike. A second one wouldn't go unanswered. That first.. Well, the junkman could see where that might have been earned. It was his fault, forgetting to text back-- then intentionally delaying so, once he did remember it. Then to have the guy come up on him, in the midst of trying to put away the evidence that he nearly blew out of town without so much as a real goodbye... Yeah, that wasn't the best picture.

Sorry. The tension in Jesse ebbed away, as he took the rag back and pocketed it. Cassidy confused him to all hell, honestly. His emotions seemed to ping-pong worse than his own did. As they stood there, just staring at each other, the words screamed before slowly sunk in.

Maybe he wasn't wrong? Maybe Cassidy was a gigantic fucking liar, claiming he had come down here for a shit ass ring that took him how long to remember that he supposedly lost? And Jesse had been chump enough to latch onto that story at face-value, because it gave them both the excuse needed to play this all off like it wasn't any big deal. That's not what he felt, though.

For him, this had felt more than a hook up. His instincts screamed that it was more to Cassidy, too.

Why the fuck else was he here? If there had really been any stupid, shitty ring the guy supposedly barely cared about, then why not text or call about it? Why come all the way to Deadman Acres to ask after it? Why yell about how pathetic he was to come out there? Why be angry Jesse was going to take off without saying anything? Why say he ghosted him? Why care if he was mixed up with someone else?

"No, bullshit," Jesse said once Cassidy's back turned, and he came up on him, "you're a fuckin' liar." He took the man by the arm to pull him back to face him and glared. "You didn't leave no damn ring behind." The accusation of why Cassidy did come, was left unsaid -- mainly because, Jesse wasn't bold enough to declare that it was him he came over for, not so freshly soon after the guy called him a piece of shit again. There was always a chance he was dead wrong here.

But honestly... What the fuck else did he have to lose, at this point?

Jesse wet his lips, that taste of blood still fresh in mouth. The ache at his jaw tender. "I told you before," he got out, "I don't know what I'm doin'... but this.." He gestured between the two of them. "It ain't somethin' that's just gonna go away.. You've been fuckin'--" his hands rose to frame his head anxiously, "--plaguin' me, months on end now, you bastard. N' sleepin' with you ain't fuckin' cured me of it."

He intentionally crowded a bit more into Cassidy's space, just so the other man couldn't try and look away from him. "N' so what, I'm a piece of shit -- you're an asshole, I'd say we're square. Right?" His jaw did too! "So what are we gonna do 'bout it? Huh?" he prompted, leaning forward some as his voice leveled to a softer, more desperate sound. "I don't wanna stay a piece of shit, Sykes. Not in your eyes."

Jesse wasn't sure he would ever be anything more than that, honestly. But not trying to change it, that was worse. "We've been doin' this song n' dance long enough, just fuckin'.. let me take you out already or somethin'. Shit, I don't care-- we can sit somewhere, n' talk 'bout grass growin', but I ain't doin' another six months of this torture." He shook his head. "You walk off now, you can stay gone n' I'll just stay a piece of shit. Or you do somethin' about this now, with me."

Shit. SHIT.

Instant regret.

What the fuck was wrong with him?  Jesse had no obligation to him, the two of them were not together.  It was as simple as getting caught up in the moment and sleeping together.  All those words that spilled out of his mouth, he just wished he could take every single one of them back.  Better yet, he wished he would have caught the message Jesse was giving him and kept his distance.  Anything at this point would have been better than this humiliation.

Why wasn’t he leaving, he just made this whole ordeal about Jesse needing to fuck off and was going to make his dramatic exit.  Yet, his whole body stiffened and he felt paralyzed in place just waiting for a reaction from the other.  Perhaps there was that hope that Jesse would have returned a punch and things would be even.

But no!  The fucking asshole had calm down and then do something nice such as give a clean rag so he could clean himself up.  Fuck him.  Not exactly fair, he just lost the high ground because he lost his temper.

As he caught the rag, he murmured a thank you under his breath as he patted down the small traces of blood on his arm.  Taking in a breath, he looked over towards Jesse and the reddish area where he decked him.  Cassidy walked a few steps to close the small gap between them, “sorry,” he told the man quietly before handing him back the rag.

There were a lot of words, things he wanted to tell Jesse but the majority of them would cause another fight and truthfully he was just exhausted at this point.

“Good luck with everything, I’ll see you around.”

It was a small town, he was going to be forced to see Jesse again.  All he could hope for it would be further down the road, where he would be in a better mental space.

Cassidy waited just a moment longer, something inside him hoping maybe just maybe Jesse would stop him.  But, that seemed like a foolish hope and he finally managed to talk himself into putting one foot in front of the other and headed down the road back towards the bus stop.

[keepcalmandcarriefischer]

Dad advice/bad advice: I’ve been trying to find a romantic partner by doing speed dating and other “for singles” social activities after trying and having no luck with online dating for years. I’m still having no luck and just trying to accept that I will always be single but everyone around me keeps telling me to not give up. I’m sure I won’t be necessarily happy being single but I’m sure I can come to accept it, should I really be telling everyone to just leave me be or are they right and I should keep trying?

Dad advice: it can be tough out there and it sounds like you are handling things like a champ. There are loads of single adults out there (even romantically inclined ones) who are leading perfectly happy single lives. So don't worry too much about that side of it.

Now. To the meat of it.

You don't have to take a vow of singleness and swear off relationships because the dating scene hasn't been fortuitous for you. You could choose to stop making seeking out a partner a daily part of your life. Honestly, not spending time every day thinking "how do I get someone?" may be good for your overall mental health and outlook. Then, when and if it happens, it will still be great! But you didn't have to scratch and claw for it. And if it doesn't happen, you didn't waste all that time try-harding and feeling bad about your lot in life.

And this outlook doesn't have to be forever either. Take a month or two off the dating apps and services. Fall in love with YOU. Find out what you like and don't like and how you can map your life around maximizing the former and minimizing the latter. Simple things like "I enjoy legos" and then just going out and getting some without worrying about how that hobby might effect your chances with someone. Take some time to take a look at your life and who you want to be.

If you do feel like making a connection after this reflection period, I can tell you that speed dating isn't nearly as effective as repetitive contact. There is a reason why people meet their s.o. in places like church, school, work, clubs, ect. Its because you go to those places on a routine schedule and see the same folks all the time. That builds relationships. Those become friendships. And that may lead to more. When you are ready, put yourself out there and take a cooking class or a "how to paint for beginners" class at your local craft store. Again though, don't make finding your solemate the REASON you are there. Just be open and friendly.

As for what you should tell everyone? Whatever you decide to do about your situation is up to you. Then, be clear and direct with friends and family about your expectations from them. If you don't want to hear about it from them anymore, just say that, clear and firm.

Good luck!

-

Bad advice:

Organized speed dating is for chumps. Get on a bus or train and do your speed dating by walking down the ilse grilling everyone in each seat until you find The One. You know its them because everything will be perfect and your life will have no problems ever after that. Until that happens, keep looking

[quokkacore]

can you dig it? (m) [kim doyoung & kim jungwoo]

summary: post concert highs can be a real bummer, and tonight, after a particularly intense performance, your boyfriends help you come down.

pairing: kim doyoung x kim jungwoo x fem!reader

genre: poly!au, 70s!au, band!au, smut, fluff

warnings: drug usage (weed specifically), mentions of other substances (lsd and cocaine), shotgunning, established poly relationship, soft dom jungwoo, mentioned switch jungwoo, hard dom doyoung, sub reader, high sex, sex on a water bed!!, unprotected sex, spit kink, they're all so sweaty help, mxm, degradation kink, praise kink, orgasm denial, overstimulation, minor possessiveness

song recs: don’t stop - fleetwood mac // unlock it (feat. kim petras & jay park) - charli xcx // love her madly - the doors // ziggy stardust - david bowie // rhiannon - fleetwood mac // eclipse - kim lip (loona) // flick of the wrist - queen

word count: 5.4k

a/n: this is for my best friend, who i love with all my heart,bc last month we were talking abt the dowoo photoshoot and she said smth about high sex with dowoo. happy birthday queen <3 thank u for listening to me complain abt writing all the time :’)

masterlist

Friday, July 22rd, 1977

The concert hall smelled like cocaine and sweat, you noted to yourself as the three of you joined hands to bow. Cheers from the crowd bounced off of the walls as you bid them your final goodbye, wishing them a good night and telling them to drive safe. Still, their chanting persisted. "Seoul Motel! Seoul Motel! Seoul Motel!" 

You wondered vaguely if this was what it was like to be a young god.

The curtain lowered, and the three of you were ushered offstage, to take some pictures and then head back to the hotel, to try and get some rest before you were off to Philadelphia, some five or so hours from where you were now: Boston. 

Truthfully, everything passed in a blur. It was almost always like this after these concerts. The thrill and euphoria of performing made it difficult to focus on things. That might have also been because Jungwoo had passed you a joint before the concert. You couldn't be completely sure.

Your tambourine and guitar seemingly disappeared, but you knew it would show up tomorrow for soundcheck when you got to the Philadelphia venue, right along with Jungwoo's bass guitar and Doyoung's drum kit.

What you did know was that here, in the car back to the hotel that your manager was driving, lecturing you and Jungwoo about the importance of being sober when talking to reporters, Doyoung had a hand on your thigh, and that was all you could focus on. 

Doyoung was high too. You knew this because ten minutes before you were needed on stage he pulled you forward by the hips and told you to take a few hits from the hand rolled joint and blow the smoke into his mouth. Of course, he wasn't as high as you and Jungwoo were, and he knew how to hide it better. But if you were to get close enough you'd notice the redness rimming his eyes, the dilation of his pupils.

The three of you were something, that was for sure. You had been, probably ever since Jungwoo joined the band, some eight years ago, in the fall of '69. You only really defined what you were once you got your first big hit thanks to some disc jockey in LA playing a song you had written, Calabasas, on the radio back in '73. 

The song had blown up, and suddenly the three of you were whisked into a whirlwind of celebrities, drugs, paparazzi and producers who thought the three of you were born yesterday. Yes, you were college kids that ran on booze and weed, but you weren’t complete morons. That was when the three of you sat down to properly discuss boundaries, what slid and what didn’t.

You and your boys decided that night that weren’t down with the idea of everyone knowing. Too many prying eyes. The public didn’t really know, because the press would have a damn field day. 

Other than that, it was a pretty open secret. In the industry, who was going around with who didn’t really matter—a lot of them were too off their face to even care. You realized that a few years back when David Bowie walked in on you watching Jungwoo and Doyoung get it on in a bathroom at some afterparty in New York City, and closed the door muttering something about how strong the edibles were.

 So, what your manager said fell on deaf ears. Too much weed, too much adrenaline, too much energy for someone who needed to head back onto the road in a few hours.

 When you finally got back to the hotel, Jungwoo grabbed your hand in the elevator on the way up to your rooms, which were right next to each other. "You said that your bed was really big… can we come up?"

You nodded, leaning against his arm. Doyoung hummed affectionately at the sight, noting how tired you both were. 

"You two are about five seconds from passing out," Doyoung mumbled, and you waved your hand in denial. 

"Are not," you protested like a child.

"Y/N, don't be a chump. I'm pretty sure if Woo weren't next to you, you'd have fallen over."

You didn't have the energy to counter, and as the elevator slid open, you were the first one to march out, ready to just take a cold shower and die for the next few hours. 

Realistically, you knew that wasn't what would happen. What would happen was that you would shower, get into bed and then toss and turn for another hour or so. Only then would the adrenaline truly wear off. The weed didn't help, making you feel sleepy. 

You unlocked the door, and Doyoung and Jungwoo gawked at the sight—and size—of your bed. It could probably fit all three of you easily. 

Since only one room would spark rumors, the manager usually booked two: one for Doyoung and Jungwoo and one for you. Your room always went unused. Usually, you would have to push Doyoung's and Jungwoo's beds together to make enough room, leaving an awkward and uncomfortable dip for the person in the middle. Whoever got the middle was handed the terrible double edged sword: cuddles galore, but a sore back in the morning. 

Immediately Jungwoo jumped onto the bed, gasping and immediately laughed gleefully as the bed sloshed underneath him. 

"A water bed!?" He exclaimed, splaying out his limbs. "Oh, far out. You really lucked out, dollface." 

He kicked off his shoes and curled up in the middle, eyes fluttering shut. You followed, sitting at the side as you peeled off your white leather go-go boots. Throwing yourself down next to him, you sighed at the sensation of waves beneath you, and nodded. "Oh, this is ace," You murmured, "Feels great."

Peeling one eye open as Jungwoo wrapped his arm around you, your gaze landed on Doyoung, who was still leaning against the wall. You beckoned him over with a hand. "C'mere, princey." 

He made sure that the air conditioner was working before sitting down on the other side of Jungwoo, for which you were grateful. The still drying sweat on the back of your neck and on your chest started to cool instantly. You and Jungwoo giggled as Doyoung’s weight sent waves rippling beneath you.

"So, are you guys gonna sleep or what?" Doyoung asked, kicking his shoes off as well and peeling off his denim jacket. His eyes were still wide open and he didn't look tired at all. "I'm probably staying up a little later, I have some ideas for some lyrics I want to get down—"

"I would love to sleep. But I can't," Jungwoo declared before glancing knowingly at the both of you, "and neither can either of you." 

You hummed in agreement. "Hmm, you're not wrong. Too much energy left."

You turned to bury your face into his chest. His forest green short-sleeved button up was only buttoned up halfway, easily revealing his collarbones. He smelled like pot, sweat, and designer cologne. His chest rumbled as he continued to speak. 

"What about you, bunny boy? You can't tell me you don't still feel it."

"The weed or the concert jitters?" Doyoung's voice was raspy, cautious. He had a feeling he knew where this conversation was going. Once you and Jungwoo ganged up on him, it wouldn't take long to wear him down.

"Both," You and Jungwoo said in unison. You laughed at the sound. Doyoung chuckled as well, and you cracked your eyes open, despite how cozy you felt with Jungwoo stroking the skin of your nape.

"Well, the jitters are still there. That's why I'm staying up. As for the weed… well, yeah. I still feel it."

Jungwoo sighed. "How's the weed hitting you, though?"

"Honestly?" Doyoung's eyes met yours, and you felt something simmer in your chest. He huffed, deciding to take a bite of the apple, and leaned towards the both of you. 

"The weed, plus watching you two perform… Safe to say I'm pretty fuckin' horny right now."

You bit your lip, giving him a sleepy grin. "Oh, Woo, we turned him on." The teasing tone wasn't missed despite the sleepiness in your tone. 

"And what about it?" Doyoung asked, leaning back on his hands. "You can't say that watching Jungwoo do the thing doesn't get you going."

"I have a thing?" 

"We all have a thing, Woo. Princey's over there is at the end of Mr. Jones' Motorcycle. You know, when he finishes the solo? He always throws his head back, because there's sweat and hair in his eyes. You can see his neck and shit..."

Jungwoo blinked. "Shit, that is his thing… What's mine?"

You raised an eyebrow at Doyoung. "His is the thing where he gets so into it that he throws his head back and plays, and still manages to get every bass note right, right?" 

Doyoung nodded with a satisfied hum. "Gets you going, right?"

You brought a hand up to Jungwoo's chest, slowly sliding it down his stomach. Your voice lowered to a raspy murmur, and Jungwoo's hand tightened around your waist. "Damn right it does." 

"And plus, you both have told me that watching me put together the drum kit is hot."

"'Cause it is!" Again you laughed as Jungwoo said the same thing you did. 

"Jungwoo." Doyoung's voice sounded thicker. "You can't tell me that Y/N isn't an absolute vixen on stage." 

"You're right," The younger man answered, voice gruff. His hand slid down, gripping your butt and giving it a light squeeze, before directing his words at you. "Oh! Y/N, your thing is when—you know how every time you play the transition from Calabasas to Saturn’s Rings you sway your hips and flip your hair back and forth? Sometimes you’ll look at me or at Doyoung while you do, and you looked at me tonight. You're a little tease up there, dollface."

Your breath hitched at their words. “Oh, yeah?” You goaded, cuddling further into Jungwoo’s chest. You let a coy smile grace your face as your eyes fluttered shut. “What do you want me to do about it?”

“Don’t be a brat,” Doyoung growled.

“No, Doie,” Jungwoo hummed. He suddenly sounded a lot more awake. “...What would you have her do about it?”

Your eyes fluttered open, swallowing despite the sudden dryness in your throat. Doyoung's pupils were still blown wide, but you were pretty sure it wasn't because of the weed. He licked his lips. "Princess, get on your knees." 

Jungwoo prompted you up, pulling you up to stand at the side of the bed. Doyoung circled around the bed, before standing next to Jungwoo. Your gaze fluttered between your two boyfriends, one looking stern, the other looking like he was having the time of his life. 

Quietly, you lowered yourself to kneel on the plush carpet, fingers gripping the silver fabric of your dress' skirt to hike it up, so that you wouldn't kneel on it. Your hands itched to reach for them but you knew you needed to ask for permission. "Can I touch you?" 

Doyoung smiled, reaching for his belt. "There's our good girl," He said. Your mouth was already watering embarrassingly as you helped him undo his belt, pulling him out of his boxers. He was already half hard, and as you lifted your hand to spit in it, someone grabbed you gently by the rest. Jungwoo leaned over, turning your hand to reveal your palm to him. His eyes seemed to burn into yours as he let his spit fall into the palm of your hand. You felt your legs close, thighs trying to rub together at the sight. 

"Go on," Jungwoo murmured, using a hand on your jaw to move your head. Your eyes fell on Doyoung's cock again, slowly getting harder and harder. Your hand wrapped around it, stroking slowly as you met his smoldering gaze. You stroked him until he was rock hard in your grip, and his breathing turned heavy. Again, you swallowed, and Doyoung noticed this time. 

“What is it, princess? You want it in your mouth?”

“Yes, please,” You whispered, eyes wide. He chuckled breathily, head tipping back as you ran your thumb over the slit. His eyes met Jungwoo’s, who was palming himself through his pants.  

“What do you think, baby?” He asked him.

“Don’t be mean, Doyoung,” Jungwoo said softly. “Look at her, she’s desperate. Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

You whined, nodding. The pair chuckled. Jungwoo grinned at the state you were already in. “Go ahead, dollface. Give it a kiss.”

Before Doyoung could say anything else, you took his dick into your mouth, and let out a soft moan at how heavy he felt, hot and pulsing. He let out a guttural groan of your name, a hand burying itself in your hair. His other hand gripped Jungwoo’s shirt, pulling him forward to meet in a tongue-filled kiss. 

Slowly, Doyoung’s hips started rocking back and forth, grinding into your mouth. Your hands stroked what you couldn’t fit, as well as his balls. Your eyes fluttered shut, trying to relax so as to not gag on his length. But when he sped up, it became too much to avoid. 

A tap on your shoulder, and Doyoung let you off of his cock. You turned your head to look up at a very flushed Jungwoo, who had pulled his dick out of his pants as well. The words, ��Me too?” tumbled out of his swollen lips. And with that gentle, breathy tone, who were you to disobey?

You wrapped your lips around Jungwoo, who hissed at the sudden heat of your mouth. From there, something primal inside of you took control, wanting nothing more than to please—you took turns sucking them off and stroking them, the muffled sounds of their moaning spurring you on.

It was always like this—during sex, Doyoung was the meaner one, manhandling you and throwing degrading words in your face that made your stomach curl in sick pleasure. He was the one who could put you in your place when you became too bratty to handle. Jungwoo was gentler, but he was all too content to watch Doyoung toss you around. He would always swoop in after Doyoung took you apart, and piece you back together. He’d tell you how good you were, how good you made the both of them feel, and while he definitely didn’t treat you like fragile porcelain, he definitely didn’t leave as many bruises as Doyoung did. 

And then, when they were both done, they’d shower you in kisses, and whisper in your ear how grateful they were to love you, and say some philosophical thing about eternal love and the cosmos that you’d always be too fucked out to comprehend, but that made your heart do a backflip regardless. 

“Shit,” Jungwoo groaned, pulling away from Doyoung’s lips. “Y/N, I’m gonna cum.” 

You pulled off of Doyoung to look up at Jungwoo. “In my—in my mouth, please, Woo.”

He nodded, licking his lips as his hands fisted themselves in your hair, gripping but not pulling as he allowed you to touch him the way you wanted. His hands gathered the loose strands into a makeshift ponytail, using it to guide your mouth up and down his hot cock. His hips bucked into your willing mouth, the sound of his hissing and his moaning getting louder and louder, until… 

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, Y/N… Y/N!" He groaned, as he came into your mouth. His head tipped back, which gave Doyoung access to his neck, pressing sloppy kisses to the skin. This sight was worth the bitter taste that coated your tongue: one of your lovers in ecstasy while the other anchored him to the ground. 

He left his dick in your mouth for a moment, before pulling out with a shaky breath. Doyoung pulled away, letting him breathe. As Jungwoo caught his breath, Doyoung pulled you up, and he sat on the bed, bringing you down with him to straddle his lap. 

You turned your head to face Jungwoo, who smiled at you, coming closer to the both of you. One of his hands patted the top of your head. "That was wicked," He said. 

Doyoung smiled softly, and gripped your chin to get you to face him. His sweet grin didn't disappear as his grip forced your mouth open. He groaned at the sight of your tongue coated in Jungwoo's semen. 

"Gorgeous," He mumbled, eyes trained on your lips as it began to spill out. 

"Kiss her," Jungwoo told him, "You know you want to."

So he did, his tongue almost immediately slipping past your lips to get a taste of Jungwoo for himself, swallowing it down greedily. Your hands came up to unbutton his black dress shirt, and his hands pushed up the skirt of your dress to get you to rock your hips against his. You gasped against his mouth at the feeling of only your soaked panties separating him and you, before pushing the shirt off of him. 

He moved to lie you down on the bed. As he pulled away from you, you caught his tongue slipping out to lick at a dribble of Jungwoo's cum on his lips. To make matters even worse, the bed was rolling beneath you, making your head spin. 

Jungwoo pulled his shirt off before he sat down behind you. Meanwhile, Doyoung moved down your body, parting your legs. He prompted you to sit up, resting your back against his chest. He pressed a kiss to your earlobe as Doyoung peeled your underwear off of you, biting his lip at the sight of your drooling pussy. 

"You're absolutely drenched, princess. And all from sucking our cocks, huh?"

You nodded, eyes fluttering shut as Jungwoo's lips began kissing along your jaw. When you didn't say anything, Jungwoo pinched your sides gently. "Use your words, doll," He whispered. From behind you, his eyes met Doyoung's. "You're gonna keep being our good little girl, right?"

"Y-yes, Jungwoo." Your hand lifted itself to press against his cheek, a silent plea for more kisses. He smiled against your skin. 

"Atta girl," He praised, "On your best behavior for us tonight, huh?" 

"The little slut's just being good because she wants to get fucked, Woo. Don't get it twisted." 

"Please, Doie," You pleaded at the mention of being fucked, "Need it."

The older man chuckled lowly, pressing the pad of his thumb to your clit. 

"Told you."

His tongue pressed itself against your hole, and you immediately cried out. You would have immediately started grinding against Doyoung's face if it weren't for Jungwoo's hands on your hips, holding you down and keeping it still. 

"I don't think you wanna do that," He murmured. His hands travelled underneath your skirt, gripping the silvery blue gossamer as he tried to lift it up. You did your best to keep your squirming at a minimum as you tried to help him get you out of it. Finally, the bell sleeves were pulled off, and you were left naked as the day you were born.

Jungwoo’s hands moved to your breasts, playing with them as he watched you whimper at the sensation of Doyoung’s mouth working at your folds. When he slipped his tongue inside, you keened, head falling against Jungwoo’s shoulder. 

“You’re so pretty like this,” He whispered. 

Your chest heaved, squirming up and down as he began to tug and pinch your nipples, calloused fingertips making you cry out.

Doyoung’s free hand gripped your thigh, and his fingers on the other hand slipped inside when he pulled his tongue out. Immediately, he plunged in two fingers, curling his fingers as he attempted to search for that one special spot.

"Ngh, Doie, faster, pleasepleaseplease." Your legs were trembling slightly now. 

"So fucking slutty," Doyoung mumbled, chuckling wickedly, "And all I had to do was stick my fingers inside." 

He complied with no protest, and the sensation of Doyoung stroking your walls and Jungwoo continuously pawing at your breasts caused a string of moans to come pouring out of your mouth. Jungwoo had been sucking a bruise into your clavicle, but leaned up to press his lips against yours. 

"Don't want anyone hearing what's meant for Doie and I," He said, lips brushing yours. 

The idea made you even needier, the double entendre making your head spin. Jungwoo didn't want anyone to hear you because if they did, rumors would spread. And on top of that? He didn't want anyone to hear. You were theirs. They were yours. This was a sacred ritual between bodies meant to be witnessed by only the three of you.

Your head felt like you were floating, even though your limbs felt like they were sinking into the watery mattress. A coil began to tighten in your stomach, and your soft whines, muffled by Jungwoo's plush lips, increased in pitch. 

They both knew what this meant, because a second later, Doyoung removed his fingers from your core, and Jungwoo pulled away, his hands moving from your breasts to rest on Doyoung's atop your hips. You were left reeling and breathing heavily, that familiar sensation floating away.

When you looked down at Doyoung, you swallowed at the sight of his lips, chin and fingers, all glistening with your wetness.

He lifted himself up off the mattress, and proceeded to sandwich your chest in between his own chest and Jungwoo’s back. He gripped his dick, rubbing it against your folds, which were now even more soaked than before.

"Tell me how much you want it, princess." He pressed his forehead against yours, hissing when the tip caught your clit. You let out a desperate whine, clinging to his broad shoulders. 

"Do—Doyoung, please fuck me," You begged, reeling at the sensation. He was so close, all he had to do was slide in. But he refused.

"Not good enough," He insisted.

"Doyoung, don't be mean," Jungwoo said, but he seemed to be more amused by your desperation than anything.

"No, I wanna hear how much she needs us."

You closed your eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying to gather your words. Jungwoo's hands stroked your sides, trying to calm you down. "You doing alright, doll? You wanna take a breather?"

"We can always stop." Doyoung's voice had turned stable, secure, safe. He started pulling away, until you grabbed him by the forearm and shook your head. You opened your eyes, seeing concern in his eyes

“No,” You mumbled, “Jus’ want some water. Think there’s some in the minibar. ‘M really hot.”

Doyoung nodded, getting up and striding over to the small refrigerator on the other side of the room. He pulled out a water bottle, and popped open the cap before passing it to you. Jungwoo had taken to fanning your face lightly with his hand. You took several long swigs of water, before setting it on the nightstand.

“I’m fine,” You promised. “Can we please keep going? I can take it.”

Doyoung pressed a kiss to your temple. “Are you absolutely sure?”

“Yeah,” You said with a nod. 

“Doyoung,” Jungwoo murmured, “Be careful.”

“I know, baby." He lowered his eyes to study your face. "I won’t go that hard on you, Y/N.”

You nodded, even though deep down you wanted to protest. You knew that this was probably the best route to take. You could already feel the high—from the weed and the concert—wearing off. You knew that if Doyoung were too rough you’d probably crash on the way down instead of float.

So, Jungwoo brushed some stray hair out of your sweaty face, and Doyoung grabbed your legs gently, wrapping them around his hips. Slowly, Doyoung eased in, and you sighed in satisfaction of finally being filled. He bit into your shoulder, taking deep heaving breaths as he let you get used to the sensation. Jungwoo took turns pressing kisses to the top of your head and the top of Doyoung’s head. 

“I love you both so much,” He whispered, “I’m so grateful the universe brought us together.” 

Doyoung looked up at him, pressing a kiss to his lips. “My baby,” He murmured against Jungwoo’s lips. He then turned to you and did the same, “My princess.”

You smiled at their words, but the need in your core was becoming unbearable. "Doie, Woo, I love you both so much," You murmured, "But Doyoung, if you don't move I'll pin you down and do it myself."

"And you were doing so well," Doyoung groaned with a laugh, before beginning to thrust his hips. It was a slow, torturous glide, and the way it caused the bed to rock left you dizzy in the best possible way. Doyoung was panting into your ear like some sort of beast, and you were whining softly with every cant of his hips.

"You must feel so good right now, huh, doll?" 

"Jung—woo," You moaned, clawing at his bicep.

"I know, dolly, I know." He sounded sympathetic enough, but the way he was grinding his dick against your ass suggested otherwise. "Bunny boy is just so good with those hips of his, hm?"

"H-he is!" You cried, "Feel so full, ah, Doyoung!" 

Doyoung's eyes met yours, and his hips picked up their pace, until your eyes rolled up into your head. Your head thrashed side to side, leaning against Jungwoo's shoulder. His mouth lowered once again to kiss at your neck, and your hand wrapped itself against his nape, while the other gripped Doyoung's shoulders.

Jungwoo's hands slithered down to where you and Doyoung were connected, and started rubbing at your clit. You shrieked, chest arching. Doyoung hissed. "Shit, do that again," He bit out, "Fuck, princess you just got so tight."

"D-Doie, harder!" 

Doyoung looked up at Jungwoo, the two having an unspoken conversation. A second later, Jungwoo gave a cautious nod. Doyoung smiled, before he adjusted his legs. Then…

Then. He began pounding into you at a breakneck pace. Your legs tightened around him, wanting him even deeper than before. 

"You love this, don't you? Our pretty little slut." His voice was tighter now, panting with exertion. You nodded. 

"Yes, yes! I'm your slut!" 

Doyoung grinned, before locking lips with you. His tongue dipped into your mouth, before letting you do the same to him. You could tell he was starting to feel something—he always kissed you or Jungwoo as a way of telling you he wouldn't last much longer. 

Truthfully, you could feel it coming too—your body felt like it was on fire, and your hips couldn't stop squirming. Whether it was towards Jungwoo's calloused fingers on your clit, Doyoung's cock, or away from both, you couldn't tell. Your moans were getting shriller too.

You clenched down on his length again, and he grit his teeth, grunting as his pace turned sloppy.

"C-c'mon, princey," You pleaded, "Give it to me, give it…"

"Shit, yes…" His head lolled onto your shoulder. "Gonna stuff you so full, princess, you'll be dripping—"

"Please! Oh, please—"

The two of you fell apart almost at the same time, your orgasm triggering Doyoung's a second later. Your mouth fell open, legs trembling and heart pounding as waves crashed over and under you.

When you came down, Doyoung rolled off of you, turning onto his side to watch you and Jungwoo. Jungwoo, who ceased the movements of his hands and slowly laid you down. Your head landed against the pillows, and you let your eyes shut as you caught your breath. 

"Can I take care of you one last time, doll?" You heard Jungwoo say. Your eyes opened blearily, and you reached a hand out towards him, legs parting of their own accord.

Both of your lovers groaned at the sight of your pussy, Doyoung's cum brimming from your folds. 

"Absolute perfection," Jungwoo murmured, crawling between your legs. He gripped his dick with one hand, the other swiping through your folds, and you immediately whined at the sensitivity there, teetering the fine line between pleasure and pain.

"Please," You whimpered, "Woo, I want it."

"You're insatiable." He sounded so affectionate, so in love. You watched as his eyes studied his index and middle fingers, covered in a mix of Doyoung's cum and yours, before dipping them into his mouth to lick them clean. You sighed, a dopey smile gracing your features. He lowered himself down to brush noses with you, dark eyes blown wide, wide awake despite the dark circles underneath.

"Guess I'll just have to do something about that."

He slid in as if he was coming home, immediately setting a solid pace that had you seeing stars, arms wrapping around his shoulders to lock hands at his nape. The sensitivity left you pliant in his arms, and Jungwoo didn't hesitate in cradling you in his arms.

"So good for us, Y/N. Always Doie and I's sweet girl." 

You nodded, tears brimming at your eyes at the heaviness in your chest, the pulsing in your core. His hair was falling into his eyes, and you lifted your hands to his face, doing your best to brush it away. Your hands cupped his cheeks, heavy eyes burning into his. Your hips were rutting against his desperately now, wanting nothing more than to feel that high with him.

Jungwoo pressed a brief kiss to your neck, feeling something simmer in his gut embarrassingly fast. 

Doyoung placed his head next to yours, gently lifting Jungwoo's head to kiss him, hand brushing the other man's ass. When he pulled away, he kissed you as well, and Jungwoo's mouth pressed itself to one of your nipples. You keened against Doyoung's mouth, hips losing all semblance of grace.

Here, you were needy, animalistic, running on instincts, and your boys were drinking it up like water from a desert oasis. 

Doyoung pulled away, a thin trail of spit connecting his lips to yours. His hands cradled your head.

"Can you feel it yet, princess?"

Your eyebrows furrowed, silent moans falling from your lips. "Ah, yeah, Doie… s-so close…"

"Me too," Jungwoo groaned between your breasts, "So wet, Y/N…"

"That's from all the cum she's filled with, right, princess?"

You nodded. "Mm—ngh! Stuffed me so good, Doie." 

"Yeah? You gonna let Jungwoo fill you up even more? Gonna keep it all inside, right?"

Your stomach did a backflip, and you felt your toes curl. "Yes, yes, yes, yes, I want it—"

"I'll give it to you, doll," Jungwoo growled, "It's all—fuck—all yours. S-same way this is all for us, right?"

Those words were what caused you to finally fall over the edge. Your high was so intense that you could have sworn that your ears popped—clawing at Jungwoo’s shoulders, your eyes squeezed shut. Only one side ended up scratched, since you always kept your right hand nails short to properly play guitar. You sobbed against Doyoung’s lips, and he eagerly swallowed up your cries, shushing you gently as you came back down.

You didn't feel Jungwoo come inside, but you felt it immediately afterwards—the satisfying stickiness, the warmth in your stomach. 

You looked at Jungwoo, pressing a soft kiss to his sweaty forehead before prompting him to move off. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you towards him as his little spoon, peppering kisses to your cheek and whispering how good you were. The two of you looked at Doyoung. You reached out, making grabby hands at him. His eyes were drooping, and he was blinking blearily as if he were trying to fight off sleep.

Still, he got up and pulled his pack of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket, as well as his lighter. As he sat back down on the bed, the waves sent you and Jungwoo further and further into the recesses of slumber. As consciousness left you, you caught Doyoung looking down at the two of you as if you were the most precious beings he'd ever encountered. His tone was low and grumbly, but there was a glint of smug satisfaction in his eye.

"I hope you two are happy. I can't remember those goddamn lyrics anymore." 

[hourcat]

hi ! i'm currently writing fic and i saw ur post about having all your scenes fleshed out but having notes to them and it just made me really curious about your process and if u have any tips like how much you outline first, whether u write chronologically etc. bc i have no sense of organization and feel a bit like a headless chicken rn ! ty if u choose to share & good luck finishing ur fic i can't wait to read it 🥰

hi hi bestie!!!! first of all, HOORAY FOR WRITING!!!! i know it is such a fucking PAIN to actually sit down and do, so good on you for doing it! i feel like i need to be held at gunpoint these days. (i actually have an alarm set on my phone that goes off every day at 6pm that says "write for 30 minutes" and even then. sometimes gunpoint simply is not enough)

anyway HAHA i hope you weren't waiting for me to answer this bc i am truly the most chaotic, horrible writer there is. putting this under the cut so i don't ramble all over everyone's dash

honestly, it all depends on what i'm actually writing. for shorter fics (i.e., copium/kiss me more chapters) i can usually just sit down and write it in one sitting without any planning or anything! i'll like...write down the gist of the idea in a sentence and then just let my brain run with it. sometimes i'll get an idea so potent that i have to stop in my TRACKS and run to google docs and write down the sentence that has, like, almost fully formed. idk if other writers experience this or if its just me being unhinged.

but for longer form fics, i need to plan. soooo much. you would not believe the number of draft posts/google docs that are literally just. bullet lists of fic ideas that i want to run with. (so many skeletons i might as well be a graveyard! heh heh.) i used to be able to just write mindlessly and get away with it, but as i get older (and have more fuel/stamina to write longer fics!) i get more forgetful and more obsessive about the way i want certain scenes to go, so it ends up becoming a bulleted list. and it also is an ongoing list! like, with the NFL au for example - i had a general idea of how i wanted the fic to go, but as i started writing it, i got MORE ideas for scenes and moments, so those got added to my outline list. it becomes chaotic because all of a sudden i have like twenty-five scenes by the end and its like....girl.....get some help.....

it also becomes a fucking mess when i have ideas for future parts of a scene i'm writing and don't want to jump ahead but don't want to lose the idea so, mid prose, i'll do something like:

also FUCK writing in chronological order. in theory i would like to but in practice sometimes you're just in the mood to write one specific scene and i am of the belief that, if you're in the mood to write a specific part, you should just WRITE IT and ride the momentum whenever you can instead of trying to force that inspiration into something else just because it's "in order".

ultimately i feel like writers are never TRULY organized because like...there are always ideas bouncing around in our heads, ya know? but i find that outlining really helps me for the longer things! ESPECIALLY when you're inspired w/your plot. being possessed about a fic idea is truly an uncommon experience (at least. to me) so you gotta run with it whenever you can.

i hope this made sense? i'm literally a mess of a writer like ive been writing for a decade and i still have like. no idea how i get things done at all LMFAO. keep me posted abt ur fic process, darling!!!! organization is for chumps.

[naritaren]

Thursday Thoughts

I figured I'd start doing a write up of my thoughts about Dynamite after having some time to reflect. These might not be in order of anything, but just some takeaways I have. The first thing that sticks out is that I appreciate that they had Ortiz cut his own hair off instead of Jericho. The optics of Jericho doing it feelt icky and giving the control to Ortiz felt like a better way to end that segment. The Wardlow match was a ton of fun! It was stupid and the video package was funny. Probably one of the best video packages I've seen. They also made Wardlow look like a monster, which is great. I thought the segment after was also really well done. It shows that Wardlow is just a good midwestern boy who is trying to do what is right. Dax looked amazing as always. I do have a gripe about the apron spot being wonky, but shit happens. They seem to be setting something up with the Oscutter because he's tried that multiple times and hasn't succeeded. I do think FTR is winning at FD and it was really cool to see OC back. Jericho teaming with Suzuki-gun makes sense and sets up a few things down the line. It sets up Suzuki to betray him and that'll be great. it also sets up ZSJ and Bryan Danielson (if he's healthy). It was also hilarious to hear Tana tell Jericho to shut up. Plus, who doesn't love Despy? If you hate him, I want to know who hurt you. RIP Ethan Page. He's not dead but he wishes he was after facing Miro. That match was what it needed to be. Toni versus Britt was fine, but it feels like Britt's in-ring talent development is starting to plateau. It's clear who is working with Bryan and Regal (Red Velvet and Jade come to mind) and it's clear that Britt is not taking advantage of that. Toni is a good worker and did a bit of a carry there. I will say though, I'm kind of sick of the division revolving around Britt. It just needs to stop. It puts TR in the shadows and makes her look like chump change. Other people have said plenty about the women's division, but I think one of the biggest changes you can make is to take Britt off TV for a bit. Adam Cole learning that Jay White isn't a friend was probably a highlight of the night. Though we were gifted with the most relatable line from Hangman. As for him facing Okada, I don't know what is going on, but it might be dependant on the baby arriving. That is my only explanation for why we don't have this settled yet. That being said, Jay is going to want a Top Name and the only one I can think of that makes sense is Kenny. Which is a whole different post about why it's fucking stupid for him to come back and wrestle right away. The main event was great, but I am getting a bit over ladders being involved in stuff. Not that the matches aren't great but ladders make me nervous because they can just do whatever they damn well please. There is a reason Mox won't fuck with ladders but fucks with light tubes and skewers. Those are more predictable. Christian doing a hell turn was overdue and the payoff was great. I'd like to see what they're going to do with him going forward. Overall I felt the show was paced weirdly. I think a few segments could have been shorter or the storyline booking could have been started earlier. I do think FD should have been in July so there was more time between DoN and FD to build stories. Right now everything feels very manic and not in a good way. Might do these weekly if people like them.

[weabooweedwitch]

I don’t want this to come across as, like, pity because it’s not and I’m sure you don’t want that, I mean this in the normalest, friendliest, least parasocial way possible because having followed you for years and spoke to you a few times it sucks that you are in this situation and have had to repeatedly go through it: can we help you somehow? Ko fi donations, Amazon wishlist, therapy fund etc? Is there anything we could do to make things a little more bearable?

For one I just wanna say that it actually just in itself means a lot that people are wanting to help me or at least vocally reaching out because like.. this is such a big world we're living in and its so easy to feel like i dont mean shit or matter for shit or can change shit at all so its nice to know that like. I dunno.. im glad i was able to kinda find this space for myself because like i dont really have a social life and without you guys (using "you guys" as a general word for all of my online friends rn) i wouldn't have anyone else to turn to

And also I don't perceive you guys wanting to help me as pity at all and really its kind of just validation because I'm basically 24/7 doubting myself and "am I valid for x, am I valid for y" so when im having kind of a crisis and people actually say "shit bro you ok" that feels better than like. I dunno. What does mother usually say. Stuff that's meant to be supportive but is kind of just toxic positivity like "You're overreacting and don't even think about it" which, those can be valid grounding techniques but like, you usually try and soothe the initial feeling first and then tell yourself not to think about it if you're obsessing over it

So I typed up what accidentally turned into a huge paragraph but, as nice as an Amazon wishlist sounds --because it makes me feel good people like me and gifts are always nice of course-- I would feel guilty for even making that public, and, to be realistic, my rent is very cheap and the only reason I don't have a lot of savings is because I keep spending money on bullshit. I kind of need to exercise restraint and actually save money because uh like I've been working for like 2 or 3 years now and I basically still have what I started with. So. I guess TLDR is "i would feel guilty accepting gifts i can technically afford for myself and also I would feel like a total chump beggar 😔". Maybe when I learn more self kindness I'll feel less guilt accepting gifts I guess? Where i am right now, it just feels like I'm being, I dunno, manipulative

Monetary donations are kind of the same and I'm stricter on that and try not to take money unless there's some kind of emergency. I do worry about money a lot but its usually always in the "how can I support myself on my own in the future" sense. I mean, most people put away a small part of every paycheck, but my savings account actually kind of expired and got closed so I just have the one checking one and uh, it's easy for me to keep pulling out of it, you know 💀 but that circles back to "i have to personally learn how to exercise financial restraint" and also like. Let's not. Think about how all the socioeconomic policies in America aren't even remotely in my control so I should uh try and ignore that technically no job is paying enough and everyone has to have roommates or a spouse to afford anything 😅

And also. Yeah I'm ok on like therapy funds and stuff because I'm actually on state insurance, actually I'm trying to cut down my work hours to guarantee I stay in the right financial bracket so I can keep it. I was talking to a couple people last night and I might consider going to a doctor again soon but im really hesitant about it. It kinda seems like I need a more thorough evaluation from a psychiatrist and. Well.

I think my first "big goal" for right now is that I should put some money aside and. Uh. Well. Kinda quit my job for a while so I can focus on those sorts of things. I feel really bad even saying that but the fact is, the fact is, im a person with severe mental illness and depression and my current job involves random strangers constantly constantly treating me like shit and sometimes getting very verbally abusive and aggressive and sometimes just having someone suddenly approach me can be very startling? Did I ever tell you guys about the time a random older man just came up from behind me and briefly grabbed me from behind? It was ad a joke and I was on edge watching my peripheral vision for motion that entire week

So I guess to make a long story short I think I should. Focus on what I want to do in terms of medicine right now and really fight to pursue the fact I think some really important diagnoses have been missed, and to do that without a lot of stress, to have a flexible schedule to see a doctor, I think the best decision is to take off work for a while, which I think is a good idea anyways? So to do that with a clear conscience I just want to have a few months of my portion of rent and then some extra in my bank account so I won't have to stress about immediately getting back to work or getting a new job. Because that's another decision I have to make: for I want to brave the current job market and look for another job and risk the one I currently have.

Long answer is long but I have a lot of thoughts right now 💀 talking with you guys has been a huge help in of itself so thats the only payment I'll accept for right now 🥰

[hankwritten]

Quodlibet

Demoman/Soldier, 2k

Request for ImSorry, College

“How do you even know this guy anyway?” Jeremy asked, leaning over Jane’s back in such a intrusive distillation of his character that this particular instant could have come from any singular moment throughout the semester, right down to the mortal threat to Jane’s class project.

“Watch it, Buster! You are dangerously close to causing the greatest second dolphin extinction event since the invention of the six-pack!”

Trying to dislodge his suitemate, Jane threw his shoulder, pushing Jeremy and his grasping arms backwards and away from the fragile, pseudo-aquatic diorama.

Jeremy slid down Jane’s spine. “Fine, jeez, I wasn’t going to squish your bath toys.” He went boneless just long enough to reach the floor, then promptly popped to his feet and began looking at the aquarium from the other side. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I don't know what you mean by ‘this guy’,” Jane grumbled. “This is clearly a diorama. Not a guy.”

“The guy, man,” Scout nagged, and Jane could already feel the migraine coming on. Jeremy was actually the human embodiment of head pains, to the point where sometimes Jane wondered if he had escaped from a lab that had been trying to bio-engineer the most aggravating person in existence. “This guy that’s making you go wackadoo and put like ten times more effort into a freaking GED project than anyone ever should.”

“This has nothing to do with him.” Jane put an aggressive amount of glue on his last dolphin.

“Right, sure,” Jeremy snickered. “But as soon as I said ‘guy you have a weird rivalry with’ you immediately jumped to him.” When Jane grit his teeth, Jeremy laughed again. “So what is it with you two? You didn’t get the urge to start tearing each other’s intellectual dicks off just because of some Economics of Marine Biology class, right?”

“Applied Oceanography,” Jane corrected, pointedly not looking up.

“C’mon pally, you know what I meant-”

“Hrrn nn brrdaa”

The voice of their third and final suitemate spoke up from a nearby beanbag chair, where its owner was trying to ignite a textbook with a lighter.

Jeremy looked to them, then to Jane. “Really? He plays for the Brawlers too?”

“Yes,” Jane snarled. “Mystery solved. The new power guard is in my oceanography class, and now you will shut your trap, shortstop, so that I can proceed to kick his ass in diorama making and prove that I am the superior guard.”

“That ain’t exactly a perfect chain of events, but you do you pally.” Jeremy pulled to the far end of the couch, drawing his legs into a fold. “Ain’t like, you supposed to develop deep-seated rivalries with players from other schools? Not your own?”

“If you met him, you would understand.” Jane placed some cherry bombs at the bottom of the glass tank. “Plus, he-...” Swallowing his fury, he said, “he got me moved to small guard.”

“To- what?”

“Hurmm umma,” their third put in helpfully.

Jeremy absorbed this for a moment, then burst out laughing. “Oh, oh man. There’s literally a position called small guard? That’s- that’s fucking hilarious you gotta admit.”

“I have to admit no such thing!” Jane rounded on him, diverting his attention from his precious project for the first time in over three hours. “I used to be power guard! Then some one-eyed, Scottish, lay-about, freshman comes in and thinks he can take my spot? This is betrayal of the highest order! A perversion of our constitution!”

“Mrra hudda.”

“I do not care if small guard is ‘technically a step up’,” Jane huffed. “Power guard is further to the front. That makes it better.”

“Basketball’s for chumps anyway,” Jeremy said, apparently having derived all the entertainment he’d wanted from the conversation, laying until he could reach his arms behind his head and dropping his legs in Jane’s lap. “You should try out for a real sport. But hey! Hope your little fish tank fills your inadequacy or whatever.”

“Oh it will.” Jane lowered his face to the glass, breath fogging and obscuring the magnum opus within. “It will.”

#

“And here you will see what happens when America finally colonizes the ocean!” Jane said to the drooling, glassy eyes of an 8am class.

They were significantly less slumberous when he threw a final cherry bomb into his demonstration, causing a chain reaction as dozens of ‘fireworks’ went off under the ocean, celebrating America’s eventual conquest. To really send the message home, he pulled the ripcord in the back, dropping a miniature stars and stripes behind the tank.

“Oorah!” he concluded.

“...Thank you Mister Doe,” the professor said. “Your time allotted for presenting is up.”

He turned and gave her a big thumbs up.

While some staff at Teufort U insisted you call them by their first names, this professor was not one of them, and it was rumored that the TA who had once dared to call her ‘Helen’ in front of her students was never seen again. However, no one could be that much of a hardass all the time; Jane was confident his project had just blown her out of the water (pun intended.)

She eyed his thumbs up with her perpetually sour face. “...That means return to your seat, Mister Doe.”

Jane picked up his aquarium and strolled jauntily back to his desk.

His good mood dissipated as soon as Tavish was announced as the next presenter. The usurper pulled his aquarium in on a cart, a sheet draped over to allow for a dramatic reveal. Dammit. Jane should have thought about dramatic reveals.

Tavish grinned at his audience, whisking away the blanket with a flourish.

“Behold!” he declared. “You’ve heard of desalination to deal with the oncoming global water shortages, but my proposal is this: a complete and total refinement. Salt water? Pah! Whiskey oceans are where it’s at.”

The tanked sloshed, full of something clearly scrumpy or scrumpy adjacent. Within the alcohol floated an awfully realistic looking octopus, expertly crafted and swishing with the tank’s movements. An eyepatch covered its left side.

“With the addition of boozed-based life forms of course, for an entirely new ecosystem.”

Jane curled his lip. Damn. He was good.

“...Mister DeGroot,” the professor said, “might I remind you that this is an alcohol free campus, regardless of any student’s legal status to drink? And, even without that, you are not currently twenty-one years of age?”

“Drinking age is sixteen in Scotland, Ma’am.”

“Sit, DeGroot.”

Tavish sat. He shot Jane a smug grin. Jane scowled.

“That concludes our presentations for today.” If the professor’s voice got any more disappointed, she could have been a ringer for a Badlands Brawlers fan. “As you know, the diorama that scores the highest marks will receive extra credit toward our upcoming final exam. I use the remainder of the class time to grade, and announce the winner shortly. Please return on the bell if you wish to receive those extra credits.”

The ‘bell’, unlike those rinky dinky little red bowl things they had in high school, was actually a proper bell tower, situated over the science building and able to be heard anywhere on campus. This was where Jane retreated to wait out his nerves, pacing around the semi-enclosed area and mulling over his chances. Fine, Tavish’s had been good. He was used to Tavish being good, the bastard, but Jane’s was better, and this time he was going to mop the floor with him.

“I am going to mop the floor with you!” he declared to the heavens.

“Not with that sad display you won’t.”

Jane jumped. A quiet moment of solitude foiled, besieged by his mortal enemy who’d somehow snuck up on him in order to lean cockily against the door to the stairs.

“My display was anything but sad.” Jane shook his fist. “It was joyous! Victorious! Other words that mean not sad!” When Tavish continued to smirk at him, he added, “plus, your idea is bad anyway.”

“Aye?” Tavish challenged. “How so?”

Dammit. Jane hadn’t thought this far. Replacing the oceans with whiskey really did seem foolproof...except…

“If there is no more water, then you can’t make other type of booze either!” he declared triumphantly.

Tavish jaw clenched. Ha! Good. Let him get angry for once.

He walked over and got right in Jane’s face. “Well what about you? How are you going to light off the fireworks underwater?”

“Oil, salt, and various temperature and pressure difference!” Jane didn’t like the other man in his space, and gave him a shove. They were always doing that to each other during practice, blocking and shoulder-checking harder than necessary, doing things that would certainly be penalties in an actual game.

“Who cares?” Tavish shoved him back. “No one’s going to see them anyway.”

Jane grabbed him by the front of the shirt and shouted, “the dolphins will! You would know that if YOU HAD BEEN PAYING ATTENTION.”

One, dangling, aggravating second stretched on, catching friction as they pressed noses and breathed heavy with the effort. Then they reacted simultaneously, lunging forward and attacking each other in mouth to mouth combat.

Jane growled furiously, trying to gain the upper hand, but Tavish was just as motivated not to let him get it. The pair of them sucked at each other’s faces, mastication muscles competing for this year’s WWE championship belt, crashing against the nearest half-wall surrounding the roof. A more wary observer might have worried about them careening over the edge, but Tavish and Jane had more pressing things on their minds. (And ‘more pressing’ was exactly how they were going to resolve it.) Just a whole mismatched ball of absolute frustration as they worked out several months of pent-up attraction.

Their combined rage might have carried them to hell and back, had the bell not struck 9am at that exact moment.

They both screamed, trying desperately to cover their ears as they hundred and fifty year old bell GONGED above them, rattling teeth inside skulls and causing tears to spring to their eyes.

“God! Why don’t they have a warning sign up? Bloody hell!” Tavish moaned, having found his way to the floor and using his beanie to futilely cover his head.

“What???” Jane, who already didn’t have a good ear at the best of times, worried briefly that he’d finally gone deaf.

“What?” Tavish asked. “I can’t hear a thing you’re saying.”

“What?”

This went on for several minutes, the two men lying on the floor of the bell tower.

When they finally staggered down to class, it was in a terribly haggard state, and new bruises around their mouths.

“Hello professor,” Tavish, the least winded of them, declared. “It’s alright, you can tell us which one was the winner now. We’ve worked out our differences, and determined to let the best man win.”

“The best man will be me, but yeah what he said!” Jane put in.

“If you’re going for flashy, maybe, but on sheer sustainability-”

“No one’s going to eat alcohol-based sushi, cyclops-”

“Enough,” the professor cut in. “Neither of you won the extra credit points.”

“What?” Tavish gaped. “But ours were the best out of anyone’s! How could we possibly lose?”

“The assignment,” she said in a clipped voice that spoke of years of dealing with the exact idiots that Teufort tended to attract, “was to create a physical display of algae chemical reactions at different levels of light and pressure as found in the oceanic zones. Not only did you not win, you have failed this project. Now, since I have a lecture in Hale Hall in fifteen minutes, I suggest you both move out of my way, otherwise you will not have the chance to recuperate those points on the final exam. Goodbye gentleman.”

She stripped the last of the grading notes off her desk, shoved them into a manila folder, and disappeared out the door.

Tavish and Jane watched her go. The minutes ticked by on the wall mounted analog clock, which probably could have told them the time just as well as the giant bell that had nearly deafened them.

“Hey,” Tavish said, elbowing Jane in the side. “I got to take Basic Intergluteal Numismatics next semester.”

“...Yeah? And?”

“Bet I can solve systematic inflation before you can.”

“Oh, you’re on son.”