#book of bill is driving me to madness

[exotrixz]

some mystery twins profiles!! more to come >:)

[vimzu]

ever since the book came out i've been obsessed on the sidelines, so glad to finally contribute to the madness

version with blood under cut

[thecrowthatdraws]

My take on human Bill !!!

[endress-knight-the-drokain]

I think the worst part about a post-weirdmageddon world is the nightmares. Is he back? Or is that my damaged subconscious?

[exhausted-eternally]

god i'm so tired of feeling like a waste of space like i'm sorry i've got a jury-rigged pile of shit for a brain, i promise i am even less thrilled with it than you are

[luveline]

Ahh I’m so obsessed with stripper!reader and Spencer!! Do you have any more thoughts about them you’d be willing to share, maybe just a snippet of their life together? So so in love with them and your writing in general

i got a different request for them that I lost about reader struggling to afford essentials and so I thought I’d combine them, I hope that’s ok!! <;3 fem, 1.1k

cw food insecurity/ poverty 

You attempt to save money, but the ten dollars you don't spend on shampoo and conditioner gets used on painkillers. You hide fifty dollars in a book and try to forget about it, but your shoes split open on the walk to work, and it takes all afternoon to find it again. You try so hard to stretch your paycheck and something new makes it impossible. 

So it's a cold night in late December and you spent all your money for food on the gas bill. Your stomach hurts, but at least your nose isn't that horrible stiff cold that distracts. 

It's not just that your stomach hurts, though. You feel miserable about everything, and you know you need to ask someone for help. You've thought about selling something, but you already pawned your watch, and everything else is inconsequential. 

I could sell my phone… but how would I talk to Spencer? 

It's the stupidest thought you could've had. More importantly, how would you communicate with work? How would you call your electric and gas company, or talk to your landlord? 

Spencer would be so sad if he knew you’d sold your phone to pay for food. He’d probably be upset knowing you considered it. And you won’t get paid for another three days, so unless you can somehow live off of olives and cherries from the club bar, you have to ask Spencer for money or get a loan. With your credit score, one situation is more likely than the other. 

You bring your phone across the pillow and sigh before clicking on his contact. He’s practically the only number you call. 

“Hello?” you ask. 

“Hi, Y/N.” 

“Hello, handsome,” you murmur, staging an affect of someone who couldn’t be more unbothered by the world. 

“Yeah, hi. You okay?” 

You don’t want to butter him up. It feels dishonest. You should be straight forward. “Spencer. You know I hate asking you for things.” 

“Yes, it’s the only bad thing about you.” He sounds like he’s smiling. You can imagine him on his couch reading something obscure, or watching one of his sci-fi shows, curls in his eyes, grey pyjamas too short for him riding up his calves as they tend to do.

“But I need– um. I don’t have any money?” You don’t mean to phrase it like a question. “Like. Okay, so, I promise you I am not an irresponsible person, just, my gas bill went up and I didn’t know, but it’s so cold I paid it anyways, and now I have three dollars. Um. Total. And I haven’t eaten all day and I’m sorry I’m asking, but I just need like twenty dollars until I get paid on Tuesday. Could you let me borrow twenty dollars, please?” 

“Do you want to get takeout?” 

You cringe. “No, like, twenty dollars for groceries, Spence.” 

“No, I understood. That’s fine, I’ll happily give you twenty dollars. But you said you haven’t eaten today? And I miss you, so it’s an excuse?” Now he’s the one making questions out of statements. “I can get us Thai food.” 

Your stomach pangs at the thought. No matter how much you hate this, you know he loves you enough to want to bring you dinner, and you really will pay him back, so he might as well. “Yeah, please. I’d love to see you, Dr. Reid.”

“I’ll be quick,” he promises. 

He isn’t. You wonder if he’s forgotten you and your rumbling stomach, curled into a c-shape under the sheets. It’s warm, at least, nearly too warm, the blade of your hunger threatening to drive you mad. It’s not a nice feeling, depending on the kindness of a friend to see you through, nor is it very pleasant to be this hungry. You’ve gone hungry a hundred times, and this is the only time you’ve ever had someone you trusted enough to turn to during that time to ask for help. What if Spencer’s decided he isn’t comfortable with your lending after all and he doesn’t come over tonight? 

You’d been looking forward to seeing him again. It’s almost worse than the hunger. 

Just as you’re thinking he’s decided he doesn’t want to be your friend anymore, he lets himself in. 

Your apartment is small, consisting of three rooms. The bedroom, the bathroom, and the living room kitchen combination. He lets himself into the living room with a cacophony of rustling and a called, “Hello!” followed soon by a muttered swear. 

You laugh under your breath.

“Are you coming out here, or do you want to eat dinner in bed?” he asks. 

“I haven’t decided yet.” 

It’s quiet enough besides his arrival that you’ve no need to shout.

“Well, stay there if you want. Have you been drinking anything? I brought iced tea and some stuff for you to have breakfast tomorrow.”

“Thank you.” You force yourself to sit up. One moment you’re looking at the closed door and the next you’re squinting against the light of the kitchen, Spencer in the doorway like a silhouette against it. “Hey, Spence. You’re taller than last time.” 

“I’m the same size as always.”

“You’re still wearing your shoes. That must be it.” 

Spencer takes off his shoes and crosses the short distance to you. “Hi,” he says, taking your hand as he sits down. His fingers are freezing. “Sorry I took a while.”

“Sorry for asking you for money.” 

“It’s okay. It’s not something to worry about. Everyone has to ask a favour sometime.” 

His hair is wind blown, his eyes watery. The cold weather has nipped his pert nose a rosy pink and he’s smiling at you with chapped lips, unaware of or uncaring about his own circumstances in the face of yours. “You okay?” he asks, his pretty brown eyes narrowing, eyebrows pinching together at the starts. “You can’t just not eat all day and not tell me.”

You nod tightly. It’s humiliating to be in this position. 

He softens. “Did they tell you the rate was rising? It’s illegal in Virginia–”

You take your hand from his. “They sent me a letter I didn’t open. I knew it would be bad news.” 

Spencer looks down at your knees. “I know that you’re used to doing things by yourself, but you don’t have to anymore.”

“‘Cos you look after me,” you say quietly. 

“I’m trying to.” 

You laugh and jog your joined hands to make him look up. “Okay. Look after me some more then and give me a hug. I’m too warm, and you’re freezing.” 

He hugs you tightly, quick to rub your shoulder blade with his thumb. “Stay here, okay? I’ll bring you a plate.” 

You cling to him for a few seconds, until hunger wins, and you send him off into the kitchen again. 

[24bughours]

Book of Bill spoilers part 2 (edited)

Something I haven't seen anyone mention yet: Bill's entire backstory in the 2D dimension is directly inspired by *Edwin Abbott Abbott's Flatland* (almost word for word up until Bill destroys the entire dimension). It made me giggle when I realized, because the outfit Carl Sagan wears in his explanation of Flatland on "Cosmos" is the same outfit that inspired Ford's design.

Abbott's Flatland was also referenced in Journal 3, when Ford visited a similar 2D dimension to Bill's. He appeared in their world as an irregular shape, which is taboo. (In Carl's explanation, Ford = the three dimensional apple that creates a strange stamp on Flatworld and drives people mad)

I think this appears multiple times to provide

1. An explanation for WHY Bill became crazy. It's specified in Flatland that 2D shapes fully understanding the third dimension is near impossible, the same way we can't fully understand a 4D object unless it manifests into a 3D object (a tesseract's shadow = cube)

2. A parallel to Fiddleford's experience with Bill in the portal. We could use the Flatland explanation to describe what happens to a human when they see a fourth dimensional creature. (Bill is a fourth dimensional creature and the forms we witness in the series are his "apple stamp" or shadow in the third dimension.) Poor Fidds saw something impossible to comprehend

idk how large the intersection between Gravity Falls fans and Carl Sagan fans is, so i figured it wouldn't hurt to post this. I <3 Carl

Edit: Corrected some mistakes with crediting and wording

[hwaightme]

Avaritia

THIS IS 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI FOR CAPTAIN'S SAKE (nsfw tags under the cut) (masterlist)

⚫ pairing: ceo/sugar daddy!hongjoong x assistant/afab!reader ⚫ genre: smut... just smut really ⚫ summary: everything has a price, but sugar makes this truth so much sweeter. no matter what he says, hongjoong will buy that new purse for you, will flaunt you in front of his business partners, and will make sure you know you are his. ⚫ wordcount: 8.3k ⚫ warnings/tags: MINORS DNI, tried to edit - lost it - bon appetit, language, teasing, on a flight, a lot of money, wealth, first world, brand name dropping harder than San in the logs, hj is a sweetheart, mc is needy but in denial, full avarice mode lmk if anything else, nsfw tags and playlist rec under the cut ⚫ taglist: @doom-fics @layzfeelit @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @honey-lemon-goose @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo ⚫ network tags: @k-labels @ateezlovenet @kflixnet ⚫ a/n: Sometimes, I am calm. Other times (read 'all the time) I am getting wrecked by everyone in ATEEZ. Here is what Balmain Joong did to me. Any comments, reblogs much loved; we spiraled into madness (hail sucrose pop, glucose father joong lol)

⚫ nsfw tags: daddy/baby girl dynamic, sugar daddy, reader is a 'doll', soft dom!hj (literally cannot stay mad at mc), overstimulation (seriously what is hj doing to mc...), fingering, mile high club, blowjob, deepthroating, dacryphilia, possessiveness, dirty talk, sex on a desk, unprotected sex (wrap that before you tap that) ⚫ playlist recs: Five Star Hotels by RAYE | Sugar Daddy by Qveen Herby | SAD GIRLZ LUV MONEY Remix by Amaarae | Greed by Shreea Kaul | Mile High by Salina Killa | Do I Move You? by Nina Simone | Money Power Glory by Lana Del Rey

Why was it that when real business was being discussed, the location of choice was always the most extravagant, exotic, luxurious oasis? Everything about the resort screamed unaffordable. 'Exclusive' written in blood on the pristine white sands, only to be washed away by azure blue waves to colour sea foam you could swear was whipped up in a divine patisserie. A perverse flavour inaccessible to the majority but driving the decisions that ruled the world. It was challenging to not become partial to the taboo indulgence when it was handed to you on a silver platter together with a tailor-made career. Anyone would need to acclimatise to what most considered a distant fantasy, but a few flights on a private jet later did wonders in curing the delirium of the average and introducing an insatiable materialism.

Thus, you were not particularly bothered when your boss requested you book another retreat to a private resort in the middle of the ocean - considering the business's cash flow and offshore 'pocket money', this was not too different from your routine trip to the cafe down the street to get his 'coffee' - more sugar than caffeine but this was a secret that you were to keep to the grave; it was written in small print on your contract. It was easy to book when you just needed to send out a few messages to staff and drop a name to any external service people at the right time. Their reaction, stuttering and need for clarification never failed to be amusing; even the most outrageous demands gained appeal once the won, euro, dollars, whatever they wanted from the global wallet, began to stack up. Green bills, green trees - in a twisted way, these boys who liked to play the role of the all-seeing and all mighty were farmers too. And fruits of their labour were always the sweetest.

Sure, you worked hard and had your own path that you could have followed. Even had a degree to prove that you had at least an ounce of dedication. But what would it give you, in fact, what did it give you before your renaissance? Crumbs. Sheer crumbs, student debt and a chronic migraine. But as it turned out, a couple hundred k did wonders when it came to personal health and wellbeing. And on top of that, the myriad of other benefits that your current lifestyle had, had the ability to crush any argument and accusation hurled in your direction, of which you had many. You had figured out soon enough that diamonds were your real best friend, while those who you had considered your ride or die evaporated as soon as they saw you wearing designer. And that had been when the best you could ask for was old collections, and widely available products. You were not lonely. You had too many hats to wear, and a very demanding man, by the name of Kim Hongjoong, to entertain. And one who currently had his eyebrows furrowed, a couple of unruly strands of hair perking up out of his otherwise slick business ‘do, glasses barely holding onto the tip of his beautifully sculpted nose, and was leafing through the papers he had asked you to prepare for the duration of the flight.

For the CEO of a global company, and the heir to an even larger network, he sure as hell was incredibly young. You did not envy his turmoil and exposure to stress one bit, almost feeling sorry and in part guilty, since percentages of his spendings were technically lost on you. There had even been instances when you found yourself sat in a dark room, laptop screen aglow and on a blank page, with you wondering how one crafted a resignation paper. But once you and Hongjoong could have even a couple of moments alone, when he would ravish you, make and call you his and reveal to you all the things he had planned that could not be reflected on his calendar, that document would be promptly deleted and recycle bin emptied. Your ‘relationship’ had been this way since the one meeting, in his main office, on a bright and early morning.

He had called you up into his office and simply told you that he had another ‘job opportunity’ for you. At that point you had been desperate, with financial problems endlessly piling up, from debt to your family’s hospital fees to bailing your estranged brother out of prison. And to make things unethical – Hongjoong had known this. He had done his research – more specifically, he had asked some colleagues in his company, ones who you would never suspect, to snoop around and find out more about you. And as it turned out, you were the perfect candidate for ‘being treated right’ by him, while bearing the title and carrying out the formal façade of secretary and personal assistant duties. In his practice, as well as his father’s and partners’, this was probably the most stable relationship they would ever get in life, so might as well be picky.

Initially, you had simply become a receiver of gifts. Pretending like this was Hongjoong’s love language, you were touched and did not think much of it. Maybe through these purchases he was moving money in ways it should not be moved, but you could not care less – not your problem, not your area of expertise, you had the outcome, and the outcome was something like a crocodile leather bag or a dress fresh off the runway. Hongjoong had insisted on picking every single item out for you, letting his controlling executive side win over. He had explained that you had to look like ‘the prettiest doll in the world’ for him, and for that he needed to check for quality. After a couple of months, however, such sugary sweet presents had been reserved for special occasions, and for the rest, money was wired directly to a new, account, a platinum card he had opened for you and given you. To just step into the consultation room with his portfolio manager and private banking consultant had felt like you were cheating existence. You had been a lowly assistant to an assistant before. And now, decked out in Dior, were sat beside one of the most influential men in the modern era of this industry, letting him hand you eye-watering sums as if it was a couple of coins for a pack of gum.

Now, well, now you were conflicted. As months had turned into a year and were now approaching the two-year mark if you could remember correctly, your ‘relationship’ had started to feel more and more like a real one. Hongjoong had caught himself divulging details of experiences that he had never spoken about with anyone before. And nowadays, when you had sex, it felt less like a mindless fuck and more like making love, with the man expressing more than he ever could with every hot touch, press of his lips to yours, even his lustful intensity had gained a new colour. You could feel that he was confused, but would not dare let go of you – you knew that he put your name down on some very important documents, after all. As such, it was a rare but unbelievable pleasure to push Hongjoong’s buttons and get him all riled up for you, just so he could expel that pressure and that tension from a busy work day out on you. You were that caring of a personal assistant. And wanted him to keep on talking. Keep on telling you his deepest darkest secrets. You wanted to be a part of him, the hedonistic side, the one that seized the day and knew how to enjoy the earthly realm without counting and fighting.

For the flight to the resort and extended series of meetings with key business partners, you had chosen to wear an outfit that you knew Hongjoong was unravelled by. It was a black and white Prada poplin mini dress that did wonders to accentuate your curves and edges, and was paired with some classic, black leather, So Kate Louboutin heels and gold accessories to match the dainty little buttons on the dress. Really, this was dress number two since the last one had been quite literally torn off you by none other than your boss, but he did not want to ruin the night and as such, had promised to contact the house of fashion itself to get an exact replica of the limited edition garment. And this man kept his promises. But right now, even though you were sat in the private office in his jet, with the bodyguards safely outside, lounging and doing whatever bodyguards did to occupy themselves, he was not paying attention to you at all. Only winding himself up more with those compiled quarterly reports that you were now regretting having finalised them and bringing them at all. What was the worst that you would have gotten had you not done the task? A spanking? Oh, how scary… you have had it rougher on a casual and uneventful day. Now you needed to get creative to get his attention, and being needy would not do. So very slowly, gazing out of the window at the clouds your were drifting past, you crossed your legs, revealing the legendary red bottoms of the heels you were wearing, and reached for the notebook and pen that were just peeking out of your handbag. Unbeknownst to you, you already had his attention with your abrupt change of pattern. Normally you would be on your phone, or typing away on your laptop, even remaining idle would be more characteristic, so Hongjoong’s interest was piqued by the little planner that contained all your thoughts and actions. He slouched back in his seat, and raised he papers a little higher, so that he could steal glances at you more discreetly.

You were paying no mind to what your boss was up to, preoccupied by the cream pages and the visualisation of the figure in front of you, but in your mind. Sometimes, when work was slow, you had taken to doodling random people around the office, as well as sketching out a variety of landscapes that took your fancy. Though the main subject was always Hongjoong. You had gotten quite good at picturing his facial features and depicting them even in a few lines, catching his micro expressions and shift in body language. There were also a couple of drawings you had done with him as a live model, though he was asleep and in the nude, so no one was ever going to know about that – you had stashed them away in a safe hidden behind the drawers of your desk. It only made sense that he was in most of your drawings: after all, he was the man who had bestowed upon you such unimaginable riches and a quality of life so drastically improved, that you had no choice but to worship him. He had made you who you were now. A shining diamond.

And this shining diamond was a little too bright for him to keep on focusing on the profit and loss analysis. After about ten minutes of frustrating silence, he dropped the papers onto the table in front of him and leaned to put his elbows on its edge. You had still not raised your eyes at him – something that you normally did nearly on instinct since you were so in tune with his gestures, which made Hongjoong inhale aggressively. His previously neutral expression had turned into a scowl as he raised an eyebrow and gave you a onceover. His precious doll was up to something.

“What are you doing?” though the question was simple, his voice was dangerously low. But you could not be threatened by a good time. You kept your eyes trained on the page as your hand moved methodically to hatching the shadows of his, as of not too long ago, brilliant blond locks, ones you adored to run your hands through whenever you had the chance. Which was a rare occurrence outside of the ‘bedroom’, but still.

“Just noting some things down, Mister Kim.” Though he had insisted that you call him Hongjoong when you two were alone, it had been a challenging transition to get used to. But at least it gave you ample opportunity for… discouraging him further. He liked for everything to run like a well-oiled machine, with his eyes reading a business strategy in anything and anyone. You had no doubt that that was how he was scrutinising you now. Equal parts assessing the attitude and doting on you.

He was a sweetheart treating his favourite toy. Talking competitive analysis and takeovers in the morning, and clinking glasses with you at an exclusive Michelin star restaurant in the evening. And to think that you were the only one, aside from his family, who got to see more than one side of him was an intriguing notion. Actually, scratch that. Certain things you were sure to be the only one taking care of. Take his nasty habit of overworking, which you had called out even if it was just you feeling bored: all work and no play made Hongjoong a dull boy, and thus, less likely to compensate for your presently aimless sitting around.

“By colouring the entire page? Not good to lie to me, you know that.” Of course. When it came to matters of business, for example, this man had ears everywhere, had infiltrated every other competitor and had become a spider in the corporate world. He would probably find out someone was cheating on their spouse sooner than the spouse themselves. When it came to you, however, he did not have your intricate neural network mapped out just yet. He could only fluff up his feathers and put on airs.

“It is only ink, Mister Kim. And surely the ink to paper ratio is not more than the balance sheet on page twenty seven.” You purposefully moved away from his interrogation, subliminally reprimanding him from stopping his concentration. The ghost of a smirk was gracing your lips, hidden by hair that had fallen to perfectly frame your delicate facial features. Hongjoong still had not corrected you on using his ‘work title’.

“I should ask you to start drawing the spreadsheets out by hand then.”

“Maybe next time, as a special treat. In the meantime, we have what we have and must settle for it.” A lot more standoffish than usual, you were brushing your boss off as you continued the sketch. He could not exactly reprimand you, however. You were right in the fact that his suggestion was nothing more than white noise.

“Settle for less, Y/N?” the question rang loudly in your ears and translated itself to a reminder to know your place fairly quickly. You could imagine Hongjoong’s raised eyebrow and playful grin. In addition to him hinting at your arrangements, he switched to calling out your first name. Promising.

There was a customary mention of money and class even when it was not the main topic of conversation. Really, it was what had brought you two together, or rather the stark difference between what you and him had, respectively. Hongjoong enjoyed having financial control over you and ended up dangling it above your head in the form of his not so subtle first-world conduct. You preferred to imagine that it was him wrapping you up in the softest, silkiest Chanel ribbon, like the one you had seen in adverts and on the packaging that, alone, could have probably provided you with enough food to last a week in your life before.

It was not that Hongjoong did not try to ‘stay humble’. Based on your observations, out of all his financial peers, company clients and members of the executive board, he was probably the least likely to boast about the figures that his numerous bank accounts contained. It was possible that when the strings of digits began to look more like a phone number, one grew more tranquil. Money spoke louder than words. But you knew how to make Hongjoong get vocal. Or so you thought.

“More is never enough.”

“Having more takes a lot of work and being on your best behaviour, Y/N.” he may not know all of your thoughts and reasoning but knew that you got extra charming when you became needy. Trying so hard to get his attention that you would invest all your efforts into it. It was only fair after how much he had invested in you.

The Tiffany & Co necklace on your neck that he traced with his gaze was nothing more than a collar, a leash tethering you to him. An Elsa Peretti piece, a golden snake which had cost Hongjoong just under thirty million Korean won, was perhaps the best way to symbolise the chokehold you were beginning to have on him. You were there in business, there in pleasure, and he was contemplating preventing you from taking holidays unless they somehow involved him. It would be easy – just block all of your cards and you would come crawling. He was greedy for your reactions. The way your lip would curl when he would put somebody back in their place during a conference or a meeting. How you enjoyed it when he praised you for completing the challenging, soul-draining tasks that never ceased to pile up – he had never failed to continue scrutinising you through the glass walls of his office as you excitedly returned to your desk, a soft smile always on your face. How you were completely at his mercy when he wanted to give you an extra special present. He loved how the jewellery he had gifted you or sponsored for you to buy rocked back and forth as he took his time to take you apart. Piece by piece. His priceless game.

Hongjoong smoothed his lapels and adjusted his cotton jacket that he had bought in the colour warm khaki, tightening the knot of the wrap belt. Smugly, he took note of how your pretty, made up lips parted. What were you imagining he was doing now? He was not going to care, at least not right away. He demonstratively picked up the reports again, flipping through the bounded pages on autopilot as, what he could only decipher to be a disappointed gasp, reached his ears. It was a relief that the paper hid his growing smirk. Mister Kim was work-mode Hongjoong, after all. What did you expect?

Ignored and rejected, so be it. You knew this interaction well enough to be able to count, down to the minute, when Hongjoong would crack, or you would crack and still come sauntering over. He liked to be needed – the main reason why he had agreed to become the heir to the corporation in the first place, more than you liked to be needy. But sometimes, you were a little too impatient for your own liking – probably a side effect of having been transferred to a silver spoon lifestyle after experiencing hardship after hardship. As such, the dynamic between you and Hongjoong was a constant battle. You could almost taste his pride as he inspected the figures you had compiled for him, a lazy hand moving to adjust the collar of his white turtleneck. Through fluttering eyelashes, you feasted on the dangerously handsome man, determining that he really did look astonishingly captivating in Balmain.

It was frustrating, this ongoing game that you two played and would not quit despite the effect that it very obviously had on all parties involved, but much like with the drugs that made the occasional special appearance in the closed VIP-only events, it was too addictive. Even now, you knew that you should not pay attention to Hongjoong, but your eyes were not obeying you in the slightest. Over the time you had come to intimately know this man, if there was one thing you knew for certain, it was that he had an aura. An enigmatic charm, a magnetism that was so subtle to anyone who you now had the ability and first world clarity of deeming 'average' was unlikely to detect. However, before you knew it, upon locking eyes with Hongjoong, listening to his dulcet tone that would turn to orchestrate the music in your mind, you began to fall hard and fast into the abyss that was his power and control, trapped and even if you wanted out, forgetting the words. Once you fell in, the only words that mattered were the ones that he deemed to be so, and they were so heavily contextual and dependent on his mood that, usually, you did not dare oppose it.

It was fascinating to you how time seemed to pass differently when there was a price associated with it. Be it Hongjoong's net worth or what he was wiring into your accounts, it did not matter. What mattered was the bills that bound you together like the lace of your lingerie, one which was growing tighter around your body by the second as you kept on openly devouring Hongjoong with each shameless gaze, the thoughts cropping up because of the ghost of a smirk that he was wearing only fanning the flame. He was illegal. In all senses. No man should have the right to have such an influence over you as he did, and yet here you were. Working the role of his personal toy, so dedicated that you were on the verge of begging for him to play with you. You needed him. As much as you hated to admit it, since you still did want to retain at least a tiny portion of independence, this man had given you more than what you could ever wish for. Riches, connections, diamonds, sex. And you could not get enough, happily driven to madness by the immense pleasure of being a capricious diva with infantile demands for all the world's sweetness. Or, as your brother had put it, perhaps out of a sick gratitude to you for helping him getting at least a part of his life back on track, before you blocked him for good, you were getting off on being a pampered, prissy sugar baby. Though you saw no issue with simply doing what you were good at, and you still completed your regular duties as a personal assistant. It was just that your 'personal' was a little different from the commonly accepted corporate average. And the business that you carried out in the after hours was not just classified – when you had been faced with the decision of whether to agree to enter such a relationship with Hongjoong or not, you had naively placed your life at stake. That was the level at which you had to operate. But the thrill that it gave you, more than justified it.

Your internal clock was ticking away like a time bomb as you grew more and more frustrated, while Hongjoong, in a manner not too far from that of a cat’s, gave a soft yawn and made himself more comfortable in his chair, spreading his legs further apart under his desk and leaning back to continue his reading. Deciding that he had enough of having to repeatedly push his glasses up, he decisively took them off, and slowly folded them together, holding one of the temple tips very lightly with his lips. In a graceful motion, Hongjoong set them down to his right, beside a couple of pens. You recalled speaking with the designer over the phone, ordering for them to be customised and getting shipped over from the US in record time, and while you were not exactly sure as to why they were so important, the key stakeholders in the company had raved about them on multiple occasions, much to your boss’s delight.

You could feel that he was well aware of your present sensations, and purposefully was not acting on them, just to see you squirm. This was only making you more fixated on getting his attention, which you tried to do by letting out another soft sigh, quickly realising that if you were to get anything out of him, you had to be more rash, and act on instinct. In other words, act out of line. Taking the moment he dived back into the report as an opportunity, you rose from the couch, and slipped out of your high heels while keeping your eyes trained on your boss. A barely noticeable twitch of the eyebrow and you were struggling to fight off a smirk, feeling every bit seductive even though it was most probably a vision of your own design. But a little confidence did not hurt.

This time, you did not make a sound as you slowly moved towards Hongjoong’s desk in a straight line, using your strength to keep your adrenaline-ruined breathing as level as physically possible, and your steps measured out as the plane rumbled beneath you. Head and body in the clouds. All because of the heavenly ruin who was paying no mind to how you rested the tips of your fingers on the edge of the desk, before lowering yourself onto your knees and dropping into a languid crawl. As you inched past his lacquered black boots, and soon found yourself right between his legs, you could see Hongjoong stiffen, but resist the urge of responding to your bold movements. This only played to your advantage, as you let your hands rest on his denim-clad thighs before snaking up to tug on his coat’s belt, loosening it until the material gave way and exposed the waistline of his jeans.

Even as you, with practiced, methodical motions, undid his jeans, he did not spare you as much as a pat on the top of your head, like he usually did when you were being his ‘good girl’. The only sign he gave of his awareness of you was the obviously hardening member that your hands purposefully grazed as you attempted to pull the denim a little further down to give you better access. When the jeans, or rather, their wearer, did not budge to allow you to take them off, you growled in annoyance and gave up trying to be gentle, instead wanting nothing more but attention, not from Mister Kim, not from your boss, but from Hongjoong. From Joongie. From your one and only daddy.

Said man was resisting every urge to yank you from under the desk and to punish you for being such a vixen, but it was clear to him that his disregard of your efforts might just be more painful – a realisation that did little to subdue his arousal. It made him acutely aware of your nimble hand finding the cut in his Armani briefs, and pulling out his erection, giving it a few pumps at the base with your fingers. The sudden caress had made him buck his hips forward, encouraging you to continue admiring his length and running your fingers up and down, not a single bit escaping your touch. He gripped the papers in his hands until they began to get crumpled at the edges, and eventually dropped them to lean back and get a view of the scene unfolding at his feet. All just to catch you as you licked your lips, revealing a thick coating of spit, moved towards his dick, and while keeping it steady with one hand, ran your wet tongue from the base to the very tip, parting with a lewd twirl over the head. Hongjoong bit back a hiss as he locked eyes with yours, half-lidded – you knew all his sensitivities, his pressure points and guilty pleasures, and that was infinitely dangerous for a man like him to share, it only made you more attractive. You had memorised him as if he was your assignment. Your most important test and duty. Never leaving your mind and driving you to insanity as you drifted from wave to wave of uncontrollable desire for him, and him alone. You were his. And you looked so pretty, a queen all made up and dressed in gorgeous rare pieces, kneeling before him and taking in his member between your soft lips. Deeper. Deeper, until he could feel your hot inner cheeks, the back of your tongue and how a rumble emanated from you as you hummed in satisfaction, the vibration forcing Hongjoong to tilt his head back and sigh.

You were greedy for Hongjoong, moving yourself at a slow pace to take in as much of him as you could, hands finding themselves clinging onto the legs of his jeans for support, and to allow you to try your best and continue devour him without his guidance. As you moved away for a couple of seconds to catch your breath, a salacious pop announcing the temporary loss of contact, you noticed a string of what you could only guess to be your saliva, mixed with his pre-cum hanging between his member and your progressively more swollen lips. Once again, you took the throbbing member in your hand and were about to resume its worship, when a strong grip of your hair, nails momentarily sinking into your scalp, alerted you and made your gaze shoot upwards. The sight made you cower, though the thrilling trepidation fuelled your yearning for the glowering man.

There was a demonic quality in how he stared down at you, every bit of the expression demeaning you and demanding your ruin. You knew you had overstepped by disobeying him and taking intimate matters into your own hands, but who could blame you when he was so breath-taking when wearing his favourite brand? When you lowered your eyes he tugged on your locks, sneering.

“Baby girl could not even wait until we landed, huh?” his dulcet tone dropped into a rough drawl as he could feel your breaths washing over the tip of his sensitive dick that was begging for you to finish what you had started.

“I couldn’t.” you purred, batting your eyelashes.

“And so, you resort to being naughty? Do you think that is the right thing to do, especially when I say that I am working, hm?” he was hooking the answers out of you, one of his eyebrows twitching in surprise as you did not respond immediately. He tightened his hold and made your head fall further back so that you were completely face to face, his member pressing against your cheek.

“It isn’t, daddy, but I couldn’t help myself. You just looked so pretty that I could not resist.”

“And I think you are being incredibly selfish, Y/N. Spinning these tales just so you can satisfy yourself.”

“No daddy, I want to make you feel good!” you insisted, a whine escaping you as you could feel your core beginning to grow warmer with the progressing conversation. Pressing your thighs tightly together, you relished at the friction, and bit your lower lip.

“Is that so?” he mused out loud, waiting for your to attempt to utter even a single word more.

“Yes Da-mmfph!” taking the chance, he pushed you right in, his member hitting the back of your throat, the impact making tears spring up. As you struggled against him, he held you in place and watched as you tried to adjust to him. Just as unexpectedly, he yanked you back, leaving your lips to kiss his tip, only to drag you down once more and thrust his hips once, twice against you until he could see the wetness in your eyes building until it was about to spill over.

“You said you wanted to make daddy feel good, yes?” he asked, lust clouding his brain as you mumbled utter nonsense, mouth pacified by the hard erection, “then do exactly as I say, baby girl.”

This was exactly what you missed. Hongjoong coaxing every unholy state out of you, sin setting you ablaze as you began to fail in registering the nuances of this demeanour, tears that were on the verge of rolling down your cheeks blurring your vision. This was how you pinched yourself for grounding, to assure that the lifestyle you had, the gifts which you had been bestowed with were all real and all yours. You did not search for forgiveness when the forbidden fruit was so damn sweet. So, you let yourself be used like an expensive escort by him, comforted by the thought that even though he could definitely afford having anyone else, he had selected you. And let you stick by him for almost two years. A true sweetheart who knew how to treat his girl right. You moaned into the pressure as the low grunts you elicited from Hongjoong let to the climbing of heat in your core. With the abuse of your throat becoming a rhythmic orchestration, you grew brave enough to improvise, and hollowed out your cheeks.

"Ah... fuck, baby girl..." the airy proclamation escaped him as your teeth just barely grazed his member, and he could feel his high building at an accelerated pace. He resisted your bobbing to catch a few seconds' break by pressing you to his hips, barely giving you a chance to breathe. But he knew you would take it. You always did.

Hongjoong's ragged breathing was sending you into overdrive, and you shut your eyes to allow yourself to focus on the lewd music. Barely audible over the jet engines, the loss of control was his primary expression of gratitude. The illusion that he was not, in certain senses, under your heel rapidly evaporated when the adrenaline shot him through the heart, and his frontal lobe shut down to give up the reins to carnal pleasure. Once the barriers disappeared, his one desire and need were clear. You. The one thing in his life that he would never be able to truly own, and as you unwounded him, he comprehended with an unprecedented lucidity. That was why, as you sensed his hold on you loosen and his orgasm inching closer than ever, and were about to give him the sweet release, Hongjoong snapped back to consciousness and nearly ripped you away from himself, your head barely missing the drawers under the desk.

With flushed cheeks and an adorable, innocent pout, you looked up at him, dribble accumulated at the corners of your mouth. He fell for this face every time. Your glistening eyes studying him as you appeared disappointed that you could not get daddy to cum, afraid that you made him mad. That you did something wrong. Oh, how far from the truth this was. Even though you had acted selfishly, and approached him on your own accord, nothing about you could be anything less than right. Right just for him. It was as if the heavens themselves had moulded you to fit him like a glove. Body and soul. And he will be a fool if he did not indulge in that every opportunity he had.

Taking both your hands in his, Hongjoong helped you up from under his desk, careful to not damage your dress - not that he cared for the price, but it was not particularly enjoyable contemplating the conversation you might have to have with dry cleaning. Or with the designers. Again. It was troublesome striking deals with strangers to keep their mouths shut. He rolled back on his chair, taking in your trembling form. Holding your legs together you were fighting your ache for stimulation, knowing full well that your panties were already ruined with your slick and were only serving as a fabric made for rubbing your sensitive clit. Every breath, every sigh from Hongjoong as he took off his jacket and carefully hanged it on the back of his chair, then fully undid his jeans and pushed down his underwear, was a reason for you to start begging. Couldn't he see how anxious for touch his little toy was? Evidently not, for Hongjoong took his sweet time with removing your dress, every button like a special prize that he wanted to cherish, while you were growing hazy as he peppered kiss after kiss with every new inch of exposed skin, crouching down to let the sensation build lower, feeding the knot in your stomach. His pecks stopped just about when he reached your navel and with a lazy smile on his face, he stood up to gaze into your soul with an unbelievable intensity. Hands running up your body, Hongjoong slid the magnificent article off you, hastily draping it over one of the chair's arm rests and not once glancing away from his favourite sight, a sultry oasis, within reach, and so beautifully hungry for him. He stopped your arms from resting on his sweater, muttering that you would mar it with your lusty filth, and rushed to take it off and throw it behind him. Then, there was no barrier for him anymore, and in one motion, his pelvis was against yours, member resting against your black lace-clad heat, and hands kneading your ass, moving closer and closer until they began to toy with the g-string the action turning to torture as he purposefully made the material dig into your pussy, enjoying how you threw your head back and bit back a groan.

"Please daddy, I need you..." you whispered as he increased the friction and proceeded to move his dick in and out between your full, closed thighs, teasing your erect nub until you writhed to seek even more proximity. This, however, earned you a sharp smack on your ass, the lack of anticipation making it sting. Hongjoong did not give you time to recover as he let the pins and needles work their magic and elevate your reception of his steady thrusts. You tried to grab onto him, the table, anything, but as soon as your fingers touched Hongjoong's chest, another hit echoed in your ears, eliciting a frustrated moan.

"You want to... make... daddy really happy and cum... right?" He panted, his nails digging into your flesh so violently that you could not help but wonder if Hongjoong was going to draw blood, but that brief musing only elevated your pleasure. “Then, you are going to be my pretty little fuck doll… understood?” there was only one right answer to the question, and you were not about to get on Hongjoong’s bad side by being a brat. You were too fazed to put up a fight, and merely mumbled a soundless:

“Yes… daddy…”

Hongjoong leaned closer to you, until his forehead was almost touching yours, and moved to wipe some of the lipstick and remnants of his precum from your lips with his thumb, while his other hand hooked the waistband of your panties, slowly pulling them down to reveal your wet core. You wriggled to let them fall and kicked them away with an impatient foot, earning a chuckle.

“So eager, baby girl… I almost want to forgive you for not listening to me. I just said you are to be a doll,” he peered into your eyes, his breath hot on your mouth as he ran his fingers between your folds, covering them in your slick. It was adorable how you tried your best to keep up appearances even now, even when you had signed yourself away to be what effectively was his servant. You trembled as the cool metal of the ring on his index finger hit your clit, and exhaled shallowly as he played with you, “and dolls don’t move, do they? Can you do that?”

As he asked, his fingers curled into your pussy, while a thumb traced rhythmic circles over the nub, the sensation electric, building your high. The lasciviousness flashing in your pupils as your eyes rolled back was a cry to Hongjoong’s darkness. Hands suspended in mid-air, you did not dare act out nor attempt to navigate the intimate act, submitting to your boss, your daddy. Letting him take care of you. As he sped up, watching your face contort as you battled the approaching climax, Hongjoong found you endearing, the corners of his mouth twitching as a soft, radiant smile surfaced. He could never stay cruel with you for too long. He was giving you more than you could ask for, and yet, he still wanted to give you more. Everything would not be enough.

“Oh, my baby girl, are you close?” he inquired, cooing as your breathing quickened in response to his accelerated pumps into your wetness, wild from the addictive sound it produced. “Fine, you can hold onto me, Y/N, daddy will take care of you,” you did not need to be told twice, falling into him as your orgasm was imminent, “doing so well for me, baby girl…” he whispered into your ear, kissing the lobe and pulling you into an embrace as he felt your high wash over you, your sex pulsing around him and muscles contracting uncontrollably. Brushing your hair back, petting it a couple of times before settling on having a hand rest between your shoulder blades, he praised you. But did not stop. Greed went both ways.

Your prior filters completely broken, you moaned and whined as you kept on unravelling, Hongjoong’s fingers abusing your overstimulated cunt. With his toned body, and your ass pressed against the edge of the desk serving as your only support, you draped your arms over his shoulders and wrapped yourself around his neck, rationality leaving with every tremor. As you could feel another scalding fire building in your abdomen, just before the release Hongjoong removed his hand and instead took to gliding his dick against your pussy lips. With the sensation being too much, you yelped and sank into an orgasm, sweet nectar dripping onto, and coating his cock.

“Such a good girl for me, well done… Come on my dick baby girl.”

You were not sure when, due to the fog that enveloped your fucked out mind, but Hongjoong had made you lie on your back on his wooden desk, surrounded by the financial reports he could not be bothered to clear. He wanted you now, and that meant no pauses. Without as much as a warning, the blonde gave you one final teasing flick with his tip before bottoming out, the fullness making you gasp. Your walls were still clenching around him from your climax, which made Hongjoong growl as he grabbed your hips and pulled you closer to him, spreading your legs further apart.

“So perfect for me, Y/N… only mine…”

He mercilessly pounded into you, chasing his own high while you were seeing stars. When you were like this, under him, hair cascading onto and off the mahogany, knuckles turning white as your grasped onto the desk as he thrusted, you were the closest thing to heaven that he could believe in. In a world that was drenched in materialistic attraction, sabotage in the name of another stack, and human lives turning into corporate statistics to improve key performance indicators, this was an ethereal madness that unlocked a primal bliss, untainted by present crises. The sweetest distraction, you took him so well that he liked to pretend that you had been made just for this. Just to become his possession. His gorgeous doll.

With you, Hongjoong had begun to see purpose in his riches, being able to play dress up with you, making the office a private cat walk as you strutted in the latest collections and custom made pieces. Gucci, Versace, Prada… it did not matter to him so long as you were wearing it with the intentions of impressing him, seducing him, and only him. He was fully aware that, technically, you could be dating someone else alongside your so-called partnership with Hongjoong. As a sugar baby you could even have another ‘sponsor’ out there somewhere. Another person to make you cum, to provide you with a sensual paradise. But the notion sent him into an inexplicable rage as soon as he entertained it, and as such, he preferred to isolate visions of you from the rest of the world. In turn, this manifested itself into his real life attempts to do the same. Longer hours spent after work, an unspoken rule that the assistant should not leave until the boss does. Michelin star restaurants and exclusive rooftop bars to lure you into being in his company. And of course, sex. Or making love. However, one wished to call it when the lines began to get blurry. But Hongjoong could not care less. You made him comfortable. You were his, you had to be, otherwise what did the two years mean?

Skin against skin, breath joining breath, sight clouding, going dark. Hongjoong rolled his hips, and lowered himself to a stance where he was hovering directly above you, his piercing gaze not once leaving you. Getting drunk off every moan and gasp that he was the cause of, he relished in the feeling of your pussy taking him so well, the orgasm that he had not allowed you to ride out still making your walls clench repeatedly around his dick, pleading for his intimate, salacious demise. His thrusts got deeper as he slowed the pace, progressively losing his senses to the speeding high.

“Mm… baby girl you are… fucking priceless…” he uttered, words broken apart by each time he bottomed out in you, his balls pressing against your wetness as you could only let out a series of mewls in response, thoughts unintelligible as the repeated hits to your g-spot brought you closer and closer to total destruction.

“Daddy… please, I’m-”

“Going to cum?” he finished your sentence as your try at speaking was interrupted by a wave of pleasure, mixing with the tension from before and making the tears spring up once again. You were a wreck, impaled by Hongjoong’s member as he returned to standing up in front of the desk, thrusts rapid, sharp and finally making a droplet roll down from the corner of your eye. You yelped:

“Hongjoong… ah this is…”

“Is it too much baby girl?” he asked, without any intention to stop as he could sense himself faltering at keeping up the act for any longer. His own climax was within reach, and he was not one to deny himself any pleasures.

“No, daddy, feels…. So ah… yes…” you mumbled, at least you thought you did, but could not confirm for certain.

“Pretty girl crying for me…  so cute.” Praises spilled out of him as he groaned into the tightness, and, unsteady, removed himself from your cunt, letting out a low moan as rivulets of cum shoot out from his cock and onto your stomach.

The viscous white fluid decorating you was more than what he could ever hope for. The final marking that you were his to use, you were there to serve him, and he would never get enough. A light shake in his thighs forced him to seek balance in having a hand on either side of you, while his pulsing dick rubbed against your inner thigh.

“So pretty, Y/N. Just for me.” He stated, more to himself, and lowered himself further to give you a soft peck on the lips, which quickly deepened as you responded with an elated sigh. In these moments, you wondered if it was money that you were doing this for.

As he moved away, and with practiced motions began to clean you up with some tissues which you had in your bag, you regained full ability of inhale… count… exhale, and in the clarity, drifted to a post-coital contemplation. Hongjoong knew how to make you do what he wanted you to do. But did he know you? Could he confidently paint the portrait of your desires beyond financial and sexual gain? A man made of sugar, with an alluring physique and a kindness which he showed only to you, but should he be your only one? This thought had been plaguing you ever since last month. An unexpected, shattering appearance of a business card, that was now hidden behind a card you rarely used in your wallet, with gold embossed lettering and an otherwise minimalist design. Tasteful, exclusive, expensive. When you checked the names of those attending the meet on the island, the object had grown considerably heavier, weighing onto your consciousness. Discreetly given to you amidst a kiss of the hand and the reception of a smouldering gaze, it served a similar purpose to a number at an auction. The person whose name the card bore had announced himself as a bidder for your attention and services, a bidder astronomically higher than Kim Hongjoong, at that. It was tempting. Very tempting. And you knew that the conversation would occur at some point during your stay, seeing as even in the business setting, the man would undoubtedly be sat across from you, and would stare you down, right to the avarice festering in your heart wrapped up in designer. But you were caught in a dilemma.

Your eyes travelled back to the graceful form tending to you, forgetting about himself, at least until his baby girl was well cared for. A sweet angel, his face finally rid of tenseness and agitation as his entire focus was on your body, on you. The one who, unknowingly to himself, had shown you unprecedented vulnerability and, endearingly, trusted you much more than he ever should have. A man who walked on people and money, yet wanted a woman who could play with his heart.

It was not that simple anymore, was it? After so many doses, could you give this up? Give up and betray Hongjoong in search for a stronger hit?

What was it that you were truly greedy for?

[f4iry-bell]

Grayson x reader argument angst/comfort

dates and bags

this was supposed to be in my current series but I've decided to stop it and so it's here!! idk if it'll come under comfort tho because it's just vvv little confort but YEAH!!!!!

It has been exactly a month since things started becoming a bit serious with Grayson and her. A month of pure contentment. But it didn't last long, it was like someone was praying for them to seperated because Grayson started being distant. Everyday phone calls became text messages, text messages became one word reply or being left on read. Weekly dates or just them going out together became rare. He barely answered her calls, he'd text her ‘im bust’ after ignoring her calls. At first she believed that he was actually busy with work, after all he had his own life. But how long can one stay busy? Probably Grayson Hawthorne but this time Grayson Hawthorne has a girlfriend or whatever they are right now. A serious commitment.

It took her three phone calls and use of imperative sentences to convince him to meet her at a cafe they used to meet. Neither of them spoke much once Grayson arrived at the cafe late. 

“So, how are you doing?” She asked him with a bland tone. 

“Fine” He replied with an aloof tone.

“Are you sure?” She asked with her eyebrows raised. 

“Yes.” 

“Then why have you been acting like an asshole to me all week?” She snapped.

Grayson was taken aback by her snapping. But he kept his cool. “No need of vulgar language to resolve whatever silly reason you're mad at me for” 

“Silly reason?” She scoffed.

“I don't think I have done anything for you to be this mad” He said.

“You've been distancing yourself from me and ghosting me for a week!” She tried hard not to yell.

“I told you, I have been busy. Plus, I do answer your texts.” 

“No, you don't. You say ‘ok’, ‘i'll text you later’, ‘i’m busy’. You don't answer me.” She cleared it for him.

“I thought you'd understand that I'm a busy man, I don't have time for you all day”

“But you did when we met! If not all day, you had time for me for at least an hour. Now you can't even spare me a minute” She breaks down, the anger now turning into hurt.

Instead of giving her a reason, a real reason. Grayson tried to leave. “Look, I don't have time for this. I'll talk to you later,”he said.

“Screw this. Don't bother. If you even bother enough to think about me.” She stood up, grabbing her bag and taking out a bill to pay. “I'm out of this. I'm done” 

“What do you mean?” He asked as he watched her move out of their table.

“You know what I mean.” With that the one romantic relationship that worked out well for Grayson ended.

_

She tried not to think about Grayson and how he used to treat her, she tried not to care at all so she wouldn't be hurt. But she failed every time. It has been exactly four days since she called it off and blocked his number, not that she was expecting him to call or text. At 1 in the morning someone knocked on her apartment door. She walked out of bed and started to think whether or not to answer the door, it's 1 am, who could it be? 

Sighing she opened the door just 3 inches to see who it was while holding a broomstick behind her. She was surprised and angry to see who it was. 

“Grayson?”

He smiled. “Hello, love” She can smell the alcohol in his breath.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, and she noticed he was still holding a flask. How much did he drink?

“I missed you” He looked at her how he used to.

“Well keep missing me, cause I'm not talking to you. Go back to your place” She said and was about to slam the door but stopped when he gagged like was going to puke. 

“Sorry about that. Anyways, you look so beautiful,” he commented with a cheeky smile. Her anger only grew.

“Did you drive here?” She asked and he nodded. “Are you stupid? Driving while you're this drunk?” She asked, followed by an annoyed scoff.

 She shook her head and asked him to book a cab and go back to his place again, when he tried to get closer to her he almost lost his balance.

“You're so frustrating.” She said and grabbed his arm to help him inside her apartment, she helped him to sit on the couch and went to grab a glass of water for him. When she came back he was drinking from the flask again, she snatched it from his hand and handed him the glass. “Drink this”

“Thank you” He drank it. “Shouldn't you be mad at me?” He asked. 

“I am.”

“Then why are you offering me water?”

“So you can sober up and leave”

“Wrong. Because you're nice,” he said. “Too nice. Too pretty, too adoring, too passing, too considerate” He kept going.

“All that and yet—” Grayson cut her off mid sentence by talking.

“I told my brothers about you” He said. “And what happened”

“What did they say?” She tried not to think that Grayson told his brothers because he thought he messed up.

“They called me an idiot” He smiled.

“You are”

“I know. They also said you deserve an explanation. I guess that's why I'm here” 

“Go on, explain”

“Like I said, you're just too good. Too good for me, I don't deserve you but I decided to be selfish when I asked you out. But I started to panic because I was getting attached to you, I thought this would just be a fling but it was becoming so much bigger. It wasn't supposed to be like that for me, I can't stay selfish for a very long time. If you know my family history you'd hate me.” He explained.

“You think you don't deserve me? Grayson, I'm not special. And that is no excuse to distance yourself from me. Do you know how much you've hurt me? And I don't care about your family history, I liked you for you. You as an individual.”

“You liked me? You don't like me now? I understand. It was a false hope for thinking you'd still like me, I did act like an asshole to you” He let out a fake chuckle.

She thought for a moment before speaking. “I still like you, you know. You can't dislike someone just like that, especially someone like you.” She said.

Grayson blinked “You do?”

She nods.

“Does that mean you'd be willing to forgive me? My brothers said I should at least try and ask you for another chance” He asked.

She rolled her eyes. “First of all you didn't apologise yet.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For pushing you away because I hate myself and can't allow myself to have nice things” 

She sighs. “It's gonna take a lot more than a drunken apology.”

“So you'd be willing to try?” He asked with a hopeful smile.

She shrugged. “Now come on, let's get you to bed.” She said and took his hand, and laid him on her bed. “And don't you dare puke on my sheets” She warns.

He moved to the corner giving her some space, she climbed next to him and he wrapped his arms around her. “Is this okay?” He asked.

“It's fine.” She said, totally not bothered by his touch.

After five minutes of silence she spoke. “You know, you deserve to be loved. I don't why you think you don't, but you're a nice person, Grayson. And if you let me, I might fall in love with you”

“Thank you for saying that. Also, take back what you said earlier.” He said.

“What?”

“When you said you're not special. Because you are, to me.”

 She turned to his side. “Don't sweet talk me. You owe me multiple dates before I officially forgive you”

“Just dates?”

“And a bag, maybe.”

“Dates and bag it is then”

She smiled. “You're really good at pushing people. But this better be the last time. Okay?”

“Yes, ma’am” 

[trangenderstan]

Okay but i adore the way the website continues Bill and Stan parallels but finally leads them out of conspiracy theory territory.

I love the fact that Bill got attached to Ford because Ford essentially represents all the best parts of himself. He's smart, self-sufficient. He's incredibly talented at so many things. And he's trusting, which made Bill feel a genuine connection

But then Stan is everything Bill hates about himself, everything he's trying to run from and hide behind his delusion of grandeur. The fact that Axolotl's poem can be so closely related to Stan is proof of it. But unlike Bill, Stan is a genuine , loving person. He finds a place in life not through spite or hatred, but through love of his family and it drives Bill mad.

I love the website so much.

!! I HAVE NOT YET READ BOOK OF BILL DON'T SPOIL ME PLEASE EVEN IF IM LIKE. DEATHLY WRONG !!

[j4m3s-b4k3r]

CREEPY Steve

2024 is the 50th anniversary of Stephen King’s first published novel, CARRIE. The story of a bullied telekinetic teen, who gets blood-soaked payback at her prom. Since then, he's written 65 novels, 200 short stories, and 5 nonfiction books. A freakish feat, almost worthy of one of his supernatural characters.

King’s first published story was when he was 19 years old. He continued selling short stories after graduating from the University of Maine, and while teaching English at a public high school, all later collected in NIGHT SHIFT. He's averaged more than a book a year since 1974. Many of his novels were initially released under a pseudonym, lest their sheer number dilute his ‘brand’. I became aware of King via the early movie adaptations of his books. CARRIE, THE SHINING, and THE DEAD ZONE. A great introduction, as those early films were all good, whereas most adaptations of his work are terrible, sadly. 

During one of the Halloweens in the covid era, Julia & I got into a CREEPY STEVE frame of mind. Watching the better film adaptations, and listening to audiobooks. Those narrated by Will Patton were faves, as he really brings the characters to life. The Bill Hodges trilogy - Mr MERCEDES, FINDERS KEEPERS and END OF WATCH - were all marvellous, and introduced the wonderful character Holly Gibney. Who then appeared in further stories of her own. 

There are 10 Stephen King short story collections, and all that I’ve read contain several gems. JUST AFTER SUNSET has the terrifying (yet somehow hilarious) tale of a man trapped and left for dead in a capsized porta-potty. DIFFERENT SEASONS contains the stories that inspired THE SHAWSHANK REDEMPTION and STAND BY ME. Donald Sutherland starred in a great film entitled Mr HARRIGAN’S PHONE, taken from IF IT BLEEDS. Which also contains another great Holly Gibney story. 

ON WRITING: A MEMOIR OF THE CRAFT, is an engaging book, narrated by the author himself. Part memoir and part how-to instructional. Reminding me of William Goldman’s ADVENTURES IN THE SCREEN TRADE, in that it can’t truly deliver the secrets to making the magic that it promises, but serves up entertaining & revealing autobiographical anecdotes instead.

We are now used to seeing vampires in contemporary settings, so some of the 1970s impact of SALEM’S LOT has been lost. But both the book and its movie adaptation have many indelible images. Such as a vampire child hovering at the window.. (an inspiration for John Ajvide Lindqvist perhaps?)

After listening to book after book of King’s, and loving their brilliantly observed characters, and wonderful dialog, DARK TOWER was conspicuous for not having the elements that are normally intriguing in his books. Maybe I’ll give this series another shot someday, as friends swear it gets better. 

We read THE SHINING and its sequel, DOCTOR SLEEP, watching & enjoying both movie adaptations. King apparently despises Kubrick’s version of THE SHINING - "The book is hot, and the movie is cold; the book ends in fire, and the movie in ice. In the book, there's an actual arc where you see this guy, Jack Torrance, trying to be good, and little by little he moves over to this place where he's crazy. And as far as I was concerned, when I saw the movie, Jack was crazy from the first scene.” 

After reading the book, I understand King’s critiques, and agree with his second point. Jack Nicholson seems already about detonate on his drive to the hotel. Whereas King’s Jack was driven to madness by the malignant spirits within it. However, Kubrick’s film is so indelibly stamped into my mind, that I cannot unsee it. Nor unlike it neither (sorry, Stephen).

“Plot is, I think, the good writer’s last resort and the dullard’s first choice. The story which results from it is apt to feel artificial and labored.” - Stephen King.

I work in storytelling too, but in my biz it’s the dullard’s choice all the way - everything plotted & discussed, ad infinitum. King apparently starts with the merest idea, then writes straight ahead, surprising himself as he goes. A magician pulling a string of goodies out of his own head. At his best, this approach produces stories that feel naturalistic, with surprising twists and turns. 

At his worst, it can be rambling, meandering and self indulgent. Especially when he struggled with addiction. Apparently, King was so out of control in the late 1980s, that he was confronted by an intervention after finishing the TOMMYKNOCKERS manuscript. A pity then that the editor wasn’t given more latitude in tidying up that waffling mess before it went to print..

Stephen himself agrees - “I mean, The Tommyknockers is an awful book. That was the last one I wrote before I cleaned up my act. And I’ve thought about it a lot lately and said to myself, “There’s really a good book in here, underneath all the sort of spurious energy that cocaine provides, and I ought to go back.” The book is about 700 pages long, and I’m thinking, “There’s probably a good 350-page novel in there.”

We enjoyed the screen adaptations of IT, CHRISTINE, 1922, THE MIST, and 11.22.63. After soaking in worlds King has created, on page & screen, it became clear that the recent NETFLIX hit, STRANGER THINGS, is merely glorified Stephen King fan fiction. By the end of the pandemic, we’d chewed through many stories, yet only a mere fraction of The King Catalog. 

King is thought of as a master of the paranormal, but his real genius is for the everyday. Some of my favourites King stories are his straight crime fiction, or stories about real life. Even his famous horror stories are grounded by settings in relatable blue collar situations.. The writer Peter Straub even compared King to Dickens: “Both are novelists of vast popularity and enormous bibliographies, both are beloved writers with a pronounced taste for the morbid and grotesque, both display a deep interest in the underclass."

How does a man who’s been a millionaire for decades, with a very recognisable face, keep an ear for dialog patterns of common folk? Does he wear a disguise, and lurk in truck stops, diners, dive bars, and greyhound bus stations, taking notes?

 “He's one of the first people to talk about real Americans and how they live, to capture real American dialogue in all its, like, foulmouthed grandeur... He has a deadly ear for the way people speak... …Surface-wise, King's work is a bit televisual, but there's really a lot going on." - David Foster Wallace

Lately, we’ve embarked on yet another quest to chip away at the KING oeuvre. Having already fallen in love with Bill Hodges & Holly Gibney, it was fun to watch the Mr MERCEDES TV series. Even though the filmmakers took liberties with the characterisations. Rather than the shy, smoking, middle aged, OCD woman of the novels, the TV Holly is a perky & cute 30 something. An autistic variation on the manic pixie dream girl trope. (sigh..)

Taken from a short story collection entitled EVERYTHING’S EVENTUAL, the gripping movie 1408, starring John Cusack & Samuel L. Jackson, is the creepy story of a skeptical paranormal investigator, whose cynicism is challenged by spending a harrowing night in an actual haunted hotel room.

In THINNER a selfish fat lawyer is cursed into anorexia by a gypsy. Entertaining, in 'the guy deserves everything he gets' manner of a parable from the Twighlight Zone. It seems to have inspired Sam Raimi's DRAG ME TO HELL.

GERALD’S GAME seemed like a story written on a bet, or an author’s exercise - “write a novel where the protagonist never leaves their bed for most of the story.” To me it felt like it might have worked better as a short story. When King fails (for me, anyway) it's when there hasn't been enough editing.

King has apparently said that PET SEMATARY was his book that scared him the most, and it is extremely creepy, but for me, MISERY was even more terrifying. I'd already seen the film, and Kathy Bates’ Oscar winning performance, but the book is even scarier somehow. There’s nothing paranormal about this story. There is utter horror, but it is the worst kind that there is - the twists & turns of the human mind.

Despite, or perhaps because of, King’s great popularity, literary critics long damned him with faint praise. In 2003, when he received the National Book Foundation’s ‘Medal of Distinguished Contribution to American Letters’, some became openly hostile:

"The decision to give the National Book Foundation's annual award for "distinguished contribution" to Stephen King is extraordinary, another low in the shocking process of dumbing down our cultural life… ..What he is is an immensely inadequate writer on a sentence-by-sentence, paragraph-by-paragraph, book-by-book basis." - Harold Bloom

Bloom is dead, so King gets the last word - “A lot of today's reviewers grew up reading my fiction. Most of the old critics who panned anything I wrote are either dead or retired".

In 1999, Stephen King was flattened by a vehicle while walking along a highway - "After the accident, I was totally incapable of writing. At first it was as if I'd never done this in my life. ...It was like starting over again from square one." As someone who was been flattened too (but in a very different way) one of the many inspiring things about King is how he recovered from that terrible accident, to do some of his very best work.

CREEPY STEVE is a one-man multimedia idea engine, keeping the publishing & Hollywood machines running. We are still enjoying poring through the King library (listening to THE INSTITUTE now) so if any of you have further recommendations, please let me know in the comments!

[ashesandhackles]

Goblet of Fire reread (Part 1)

Chapters 1, 2, 3, 4

a very ominous opening, the murder of Tom Riddle's paternal line by. .drum roll Tom. He makes the ring Horcrux (that emphasises his lineage from the Gaunts, the Slytherin line) over this murder. He "pruned" the diseased tree of his family line, and yet this is a site of both his hiding and rebirth (the grave of his father). Voldemort's feelings about his father would be so interesting to explore.

Frank Bryce is a war veteran, and although CoS misses a potential war in Muggle world backstory with Tom, GOF alludes to it in the timeline.

Wormtail returns Voldemort to this site early August. But Nagini is the provider here, a mother for diseased scaly baby Voldemort, and he is in his father's house. It is an interesting image.

Wormtail, probably a guilty conscience, tries to advocate for not using Harry for the plan and as expected, fails. He also shows "sulleness" at the lack of recognition of his skill from Voldemort - "I was the one who found you"

"I will allow you to perform an essential task for me, one that many of my followers would give their right hands to perform" IMAO Voldemort.

A meta about the Riddle house and Voldemort's awareness of class by @artemisia-black

Harry is reading a Quidditch book the previous night, which is open on men with orange robes = Chudley Cannon. XD

what he wanted, was "someone like a parent". Sirius taking care to remind Harry to call on him. he is eager to form a relationship with Harry, it warms my heart. He wants to be needed. And it is this need - that he will be useful, that he can do something that drives him to break out of Azkaban. I love how chatty Harry is with Sirius. It is in direct response to Sirius' interest in him.

I really wish Dudley and Vernon werent talked about in relation to how fat they are - this kind of fatphobic language, which I overlooked as a child, feels really off putting.

Harry manages Vernon and his moods so much - he settles on "politely puzzled" , deciding he cant push Vernon too far that morning. He then decides based on Vernon's mood how to get what he wants - and he uses the Sirius card " ok you wont let me go, but I need to finish a letter for my godfather".

also, "he had cake, Dudley had nothing but grapefruit". I love that Vernon and Petunia bringing them both up is reflected in this - that there is a part of Harry that wants to best Dudley.

Harry being anxious that Dursleys would be rude to Weasleys is so interesting. On one hand, he doesn't want their feelings hurt or have Weasleys be put into an awkward situation because of him. On the other, I wonder if it is his usual tendency of trying to play down how bad Dursleys can get with him that he doesn't want someone like Arthur to witness it.

Harry "fights a mad desire to laugh" when he spent all evening anxious and Vernon rounds him like an angry Wolverine when they hear Weasleys being stuck in chimney. This is similar to Sirius' laugh in high stress situation.

Once again marveling at how quiet Ron is in the family scenes with just his father and the twins. He and Harry share a look when they see Dudley though xD

Chapter 5, 6,7

I love that Arthur didn't actually want to tell on the twins to Molly. Lovely insight into family dynamics there. We also get context: Molly and the twins had a really big row about their ambitions sometime before, and I think Arthur is not keen to retread that.

i love Arthur and Percy's conversation about Ludo Bagman, it contains seeds of conflict of their approach to things.

Ginny and Bill. I love all tiny mentions of how close they are, and how Ginny idolises him.

Percy's middle child isolation is really stark here. Bill and Charlie duel with tables, then Charlie and twins discuss Quidditch while Bill is with Ginny. Ron would be as isolated if it weren't for Harry and Hermione. Percy is talking to his father, and then later Fred and George tease him

there is a tent with live peacocks tethered at the entrance. Want to bet thats Malfoys tent?

Harry and Hermione figured out where the poles and pegs on their tent would go with Arthur. Such a wholesome moment. -tent was furnished exactly as Mrs Figg's house, complete with strong smell of cats. Where is Perkins/Arabella Figg fanfic?

Bode and Department of Mysteries set up here

love the absurd comedy of this chapter, right when Bagman is talking about how everything is going smoothly, there is gaggle of ministry wizards behind him panicking about evidence of a magical fire.

Justice for Ali Bashir and his pitch to export magical carpets

Chapter 8,9,10,11,12

Winky mentioning that Dobby might end up in front of Dept of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures "like a common goblin" so interesting. Goblins as we know, are not subservient and are quite resentful of wizards - and they most likely get into a lot of run-ins. Winky of course, has internalised the hierarchy.

"he knew they werent going to win, he wanted to end the match on his terms" - harry about krum, but it also reflects what he does in the graveyard. when he decides to die standing up and fighting. (This is something I saw on reddit, and I wish I could credit this insight to them because it's <3)

"Ron told Malfoy to go do something that Harry knew he would never dare say in front of Mrs Weasley". Let Ron say f!ck.

The contrast of Draco's stillness to the panic and screams of everyone else is so well written. You can feel the implication and the sinister vibe of it - especially with descriptions of light flashing as they talk.

Harry immediately reacting to the threat and pulling Ron and Hermione to ground when Ministry wizards come in.

the abject humiliation of Winky in this chapter is …a lot. One is of course, that she is taking the fall for Jnr, second is how Amos talks about how elves aren't permitted to carry a wand, and third, how Bagman comes in and almost tramples Winky because that's how dehumanised she is.

Hermione and Percy's argument shows exactly where those characters are. For Percy, justice means upholding the institution he knows and its reputation. Hermione, no longer an assimilationist thanks to her own growth over the books, can't see eye to eye with this.

Every bone of this chapter shows how horrifyingly the wizarding world treats elves, and that is an accepted norm. The narration is very clearly critical of it. I wonder what happened later on.

Mr Roberts "Merry Christmas" is both darkly funny and alarming, with regard to wizard -muggle relations and how normalised Memory charms are.

I love that Arthur asks his eldest son in this undertone to pick up the newspaper. It really shows you Bill's place in the family. And when he is reading, Percy looks over the shoulder.

I love that the first thing harry asks, because he couldnt take any more worry, is where Hedwig is. He wants his letter from Sirius.

Ron cottoning on to Harry's mood and suggesting Quidditch as distraction, along with dangling Wronksi Feint.

the detail of Ginny repairing her textbook with spellotape the night before they leave for Hogwarts.

Bill playing chess with Ron <3

"Why is everything I own rubbish?" You know the Ron detail I love, that while he is furious and embarrassed about the dress robes, the dialogue of him complaining is overlayed with him going to unstick Pig's beak.

I am so curious about Amos Diggory's relationship with Mad-Eye. He seems concerned that Mad-Eye would get in trouble with another department, so he asks Arthur to go get him on a minor charge - so that it doesnt affect Mad Eye's new job. Both Arthur and Molly are concerned about Mad-Eye too, which suggests a personal relationship ("I will be fine, you just take care of Mad-Eye"). It feels like even if Molly and Arthur were not in the Order- their associations ran strong. It is also clear why Bill and Charlie, the older ones, talk Mad Eye up more, while middle children onwards are like, "isnt he a nutter?"

Sorting Hat song is interesting. It says Gryffindor comes from the moors, Ravenclaw from glen, Helga from valley and Slytherin from fen. Does this track with where Godric Hollow is?

-"the mark of good house elf is that you don't know it's there" :/

Harry being appalled there will be no Quidditch and looks around to Fred and George to share the horror. XD

Only Hagrid and Dumbles clap when Moody sits. Shows they are used to him and know him personally while everyone else is taken aback.

Chapter 13, 14,15, 16

Hermione had just discovered the school she loves employs slave labour and is questioning what she reads (a la Hogwarts a History).

"you were born mid-winter?" You are thinking of Tom, Trelawney.

"can i have a look at Uranus too Lavender?" The way this joke flew over my head as a kid.

how interesting that Snape is wary of Mad-Eye. Speaks to very interesting dynamics between dumbles-Madeye-Snape. And Harry offers his reading about how Snape is a bit scared of Mad Eye. I really want a fic about what's going on here.

Moody laughing at the idea of "quiet retirement" after a year as DADA takes on more sinister overtones cos BCJ is clearly making an inside joke to himself.

Also when everyone laughs at the spider dancing under Imperius and Fake Moody going "think it's funny do you?" because his BCJ's father kept him under the Imperius curse before this. (Also interesting how he reacts to Harry throwing it off in his class when he couldnt. For a long time! BCJ is such an interesting antagonist)

and also him making the spider bigger for everyone (specifically Neville) see the effect of the Cruciatus. Hermione is so protective of Neville! She asks him to stop doing it.

when the spell is performed, "something vast and invisible is soaring through the air" - I imagine this is the soul being seperated from the body. Probably why when curse rebounds, Voldemort's soul fractures.

Neville with red eyes reading the book he got from BCJ. (also Harry noted that using Professor Sprout's feedback was tactful way of cheering Neville up, as Lups would have done - but BCJ did this as part of grander manipulation)

I think Hermione's manifesto for SPEW is kinda great: working wages, conditions, changing law about non wand use and get a representation in Department for regulation and control of Magical creatures.

Harry being upset that Sirius is coming running to the country to protect him. What a wonderful problem for Harry to have. An adult that cares too much.

"Excuse me I don't like people just because they are handsome""Lockhart!" Romione bants.

Parvati and her butterfly clip <3

i like how Harry immediately notes what he perceives as inconsistencies, and therefore a possible threat - Karkaroff's smile didn't reach his eyes (and it is phrased as Harry noticed that..)

Ron has a crush on Viktor Krum XD "for heaven's sake, Ron, he is only a Quidditch player" "Only a Quidditch player??" he literally wants to offer him his bed.

Hagrid and Hermione discussing SPEW, and Hermione actually looking cross about Hagrid disagreeing. (Hagrid is an interesting case of marginalisation and injustice where he is just really grateful for what he gets and doesn't really question the status quo).

[msookyspooky]

What do you plan to do for Bill’s birthday? (Which is tomorrow May 17th)

Since it's Bill's Birthday (and @bitchyhorror was the other day ♡ Taurus King and Queen ily 🎉) how about Severen with a S/O that's planning his Birthday as a surprise? Because I feel like that would be interesting...🤫

S/O Surprising Severen

- Severen is old af. Like, born during Horse and Buggy era old. You'd never know it though especially with how young he still acts (Well...Maybe when a dated joke or saying from before the 1900's comes out of his mouth.) So as egotistical as he can be; 'Birthdays' definitely aren't something he celebrates. He might not have even celebrated in his human days if we're being honest here depending on his childhood, family status, time period etc.

- So, after a night of playing cards, Jesse tells you the date Severen was turned and you definitely logged that into your brain. (Severen doesn't remember or at least acts like he doesn't.) It helps it was probably really significant to Jesse having turned someone presumably for the first time.

- So when that date rolls around and you are acting giddy and odd; Severen INSTANTLY knows you're up to something but isn't connecting the dots

- He HATES secrets because he CANNOT mind his business enough to not want to figure it out! The second he realizes you're up to something he's all over it and all over you.

- Watching your every move with a sly grin and a curious look in his eyes. He teases and pesters at first, poking like a little kid "What're ya hiding?" with the most curious and mischievous expression on his face. At first he'll pester and tease. Leaning over you with a huge flirty grin and a playfulness in his voice as he tells you to talk..Or maybe he should convince you to talk? Might even go to desperate measures like tickling you or touching a 'spot' he knows you like just to get information.

- If you stand firm and still refuse to tell him...Now he's VERY curious but relents. Especially if you're getting mad at him and he can tell whatever this is, is important to you.

- He definitely pouts and whines and grumbles about it to you though. "Why can't I know?" is his famous question the last few days. He's technically not asking the secret just WHY it's a secret. And he releases a loud, irritated groan everytime you tell him. "Because." as a reply.

- He pestered EVERYONE when he couldn't figure it out. Severen is an open book and this was driving him nuts. Hopefully, you told no one because Homer is definitely tattling just to shut Severen up within the first few times Severen annoys him. Mae or Caleb (If he's in the group) would accidentally say something (Especially Caleb. Huge dumb energy right there plus Severen could easily intimidate him into talking if he was desperate enough to know) The only two your secret is safe with is Diamondback who will just be coy with Severen no matter how much he bugs her and Jesse who will tell Severen to shut the fuck up already.

- When the day comes, you're extra off standish and it actually has Severen a bit miffed and even upset. Why are you avoiding him? Did he do something wrong and you're mad? Why won't you just tell him already?! So be prepared for his ego to feel slighted and he's just going to return the sour energy he THINKS he's feeling from you right back at you. Giving you the cold shoulder and just gruffly answering questions in grunts or "Yeah whatever..."

- You all had your night of hunting but you and Mae and Caleb/Homer headed back early to get ready while Jesse and Diamondback distracted Severen. Of course, he was pissy and vented about your recent weirdness to them all night. Almost urgently asking. "The fuck is their problem?! Did I do something to piss them off?... Are they planning on leaving me???" You can see behind the angry energy he has he's actual worried and just using anger to express it instead of getting upset and 'sappy'.

- He walks into the RV or motel room your staying at with a heavy heart, sinking gut feeling and scowl on his face. Expecting the worst from you or just more silent treatment.

- It's pitchblack but he can still see pretty well with his vampric abilities. In fact, he can clearly see in that darkness your silhouette and the others...Hiding behind furniture?? He could sense you all and see pretty well in the dark so you yelling "Surprise!" to a vampire made him more bemused than surprised. He flips on the light grumbling "What are you...Doin'???" Just to see whatever you had set up for him. Could be a small traditional cake and balloons...Could be something like a giftbox on the table and a personal card from you...Could even be something more his style like some liquor and smokes or a human to feed on (Hey, it's just them)..Maybe all of the above minus the human? He'd certainly get a kick out of a small cake with cigarettes as candles and something like 'Here asshole. Surprise' written on it. Especially with how annoying he's been. Whatever you picked, he's blinking in genuine surprise before a confused smirk crawls up his face.

- "Happy Birthday, Severen." You gave with a smile and a hug as he tilted his head down at you. Jesse clapped him on the shoulder roughly with a chuckle when he didn't get it as you explained to him what this was. He was still confused at first because...This wasn't his birthday?...Till it dawned on him; that yes. It was. It was his turning day. Like his second birth. He felt almost embarrassed (even if he hid it well) that he didn't put two and two together sooner.

- He grins at you as everyone involved said something both insulting but touching like they all did. Poking fun at him being such an annoying idiot that he couldn't figure it out.

- He's touched. He may not cry or anything but he's touched you cared enough to do this especially since he doesn't have too many people in his long life that are sentimental enough to think to do this for him. Depending on his past; he may have NEVER had someone go to this extent for him! You can see it in the way his eyes look at you. He has a giant grin on his face, chuckling whole heartedly as he cups both sides of your face and lplants an enthusiastic kiss to your lips as a thank you. One that has you giggling at how passionate and excited he is about it.

- He's a lot of things and a smug man a lot of the time but he's still going to sheepishly try to casually apologize to you for bugging you for days. Admitting he almost thought you were mad at him or going to leave. He has the most in love, soft expression he reserves only for you when you remind him that's ridiculous and you aren't going anywhere. You might even get a chuckle if you poke fun at him about it.

- ....If you both have that type of sexual relationship you already know he's flirting with you asking if he gets 'another gift' before the sun comes up.

[adelaidedrubman]

NOW THAT’S WHAT I CALL MUSIC MONDAY 

tagged by absolutely no one and requested by fewer still, but in the spirit of kicking off the summer of hook, line, and sinker i am also taking the liberty of starting wip music monday whether anyone likes it or not. afflicting @v0idbuggy @poetikat @henbased @florbelles @unholymilf @socially-awkward-skeleton @direwombat @strangefable @derelictheretic @corvosattano @shallow-gravy @nuclearstorms @cassietrn @confidentandgood @afarcryfrommymain @vampireninjabunnies-blog @nightbloodbix @voidika @firstaidspray @megraen @roofgeese @trench-rot @strafethesesinners @blissfulalchemist @inafieldofdaisies @clicheantagonist, please feel free to drop a wip and a tune that vibes with it!

naturally i am sharing another hl&s playlist banger. pov you’re jestiny and this is what you desperately wish your ex-girlfriends’ internal monologue to be as they watch your current partner fail to bait a hook, but unfortunately probably only the last part applies:

i heard you had to drive him home after two umbrella drinks / i heard he’s got a prius ’cause he’s into being green / my buddy said he saw y’all eating that sushi stuff / baby that don’t sound like you, that don’t sound like love / sounds like it sucks he can’t even bait a hook / he can’t even skin a buck / he don’t know who jack daniels is / ain’t ever drove a truck / knows how to throw out a line / but not the kind in a field and stream book / no darling i ain’t even worried you’ll come running back / he can’t even bait a hook ... [outro] nah you’re the one that’s gonna be sorry when you’re headin’ to get tofu and he has a flat tire in his foreign car and don’t know how to change it and you’ll get your new gucci shoes wet and you’re mad and irritated, i’ve seen you irritated, i’m telling you, better him than me actually

epic blunder, this is how they actually see you and your new man. wip excerpt from hl&s c.3, tentatively titled “throw out a line” (warnings for jessie typical emotional regulation and references to stalking behavior, played for laughs but called for what it is in text):

“Ms. Woodhouse,” John held out a hand towards the brunette that was met with nothing but a scowl in return. 

He made an apologetic ‘ah’ noise and wiped the hand on his shirt, but Jessie knew it was not the fish guts Sherri was repulsed by.  “My apologies.” He bowed. “I haven’t yet had the privilege of patronizing your little store.” Jessie smiled. Patronizing was right. And Sherri deserved it. “It’s so difficult when I have my own boat ramp right in the backyard to remember to get out there to support the small business owners in the community.”  “Support?” Skylar cut in, scowling even harder than Sherri did. “When have you ever supported any business around here? You call trying to shut everyone down and take their property from ’em support?”  Huh. That’s weird  — Skylar seemed to have history with this guy. And it was bad enough he was a lawyer at all, did she fuck up and start pretending to date a fucking foreclosure attorney or something?  John waved the accusation off. “Please, I hate discussing business matters during my recreation time.” He reached into his back pocket to take out his wallet, pulling another hundred dollar bill from it. “I would love to support Can of Worms now.”  John turned to Sherri, gauchely waving the bill in front of her. “I’m afraid my lovely date and I have fished through all of our bait. But it seems you have plenty left. He nodded towards the unopened can at Sherri’s feet. “I’d like to purchase it.”  Sherri met him with a dead-eyed stare. “Store’s closed.”  John turned, looking across the water at the Can of Worms storefront. “Your hours say open until 9.”  “Well, I’m not on the clock.”  “Oh, don’t be unreasonable. I’m paying well above market rate for something I could just waste time going over and buying from you, for much cheaper, in the store.”  “No, you couldn’t,” Skylar said. “Store’s closed.”  He pointed behind him. “I see it open.”  “Store’s always closed to you.” Jestiny gave up on pretending not to notice the conversation, setting aside her beer to slam her hands down on the side of the boat. “Well, sell it to fuckin’ me, then!”  “God, Jessie,” Sherri groaned, leaning down to hold her head in her hands. “Can’t you just fucking leave us alone? Following us, harassing us while we’re trying to fish? We broke up with you. We don’t want you around.”  “Shit’s sad,” Skylar agreed. “Just stop. Don’t make us get a fuckin’ restraining order or something.”  Jestiny kicked the side of the boat, hard. “They’re called Orders of Protection, in fucking Montana!”  “You learn that from your slimebag lawyer boyfriend?” Skylar asked. Jessie frowned. That was hitting below the belt, she thought. “And did he learn it from law school, or ’cause half the fucking County wants to take one out on his creepy ass?” Sherri brought a hand over her mouth to stifle her laugh at Skylar’s joke. “They really are perfect for each other, huh?” she giggled against Skylar’s shoulder, setting her chin atop it and looking up at her adoringly.  Jessie felt flames crawl up in her belly. Of all the infuriating insults.  “Yeah, we fucking are! I finally have someone who can keep up with me behind the rod and on an intellectual fuckin’ level!” she forced herself to flash an adoring smile of her own at the man she shouted over. “And he’s got an actual sense of humor! Just look at his outfit.”  John turned to shoot Jessie a glare.  “Yeah,” Skylar laughed, turning to nudge the flyaway hairs clinging to Sherri’s dewy brown skin away with the sun speckled tip of her nose so that she could finally whisper her teasing directly into the brunette’s ear. “Looks like you and me were the only ones that didn’t think to come dressed for the circus.” 

“I fucking heard that!” 

[celestemagnoliathewriter]

Seeing your reply on the HP books, what disappointed you in DH? What would you have changed in it? Less deaths?

On HBP and why I didn't care for DH: get ready for a long post/ran that the tl; dr version is: *it makes narrative sense but not logical sense and I wanted both*

I didn't *love* the intro of the battle of the seven potters, to begin with. Obviously I know that we needed some introductory action to get going, and what's better than a battle where both Hedwig and Mad-Eye die? Even warriors die, childhood ending, etc. It makes *sense* for the narrative, but not in-world. Just make an illegal portkey. Apparate, ffs. Put Harry under the invisibility cloak, side-apparate him to Diagon Alley, and then re-apparate to a safe house, if you want to avoid the trace issue. Or illegal portkey that noise because Harry's already wanted and so are the others. Remus would've been a great pick. Everyone hates werewolves. (and ok, I get why they did what they did, because Snape put it in Mundungus' ear to keep Voldemort's trust, but also, it just seems like shoddy thinking it through, JKR's inconsistencies drive me crazy).

Grimmauld Place and Yaxley. Ok, so this is also going back to JKR inconsistencies. If Snape was Secret keeper (as were all Order members after Dumbledore's death) why wouldn't Voldemort just ask Snape for the location and ambush them? But ofc Snape is protecting Harry, there's that tongue-tying thing so Snape couldn't say, I suppose, but still. Part of me wonders why Hermione didn't try to obliviate Yaxley, or stun him, and then ask Kreacher to come with them so they wouldn't starve. Kreacher would've been delighted to hunt for horcruxes. Or why Hermione didn't apparate them to nowhere first, shake Yaxley off, and THEN go to GP? But again: hero's journey has to be alone, character development, whatever. I'm just saying it doesn't make sense.

Camping: so boring. Harry Potter and the Haunted Camping Trip. Pass. I get it; it's boring to them, it's boring to us, it's dry, it's dull, it's reflecting what the characters are going through. But at the same time, why didn't they call for Kreacher? Or Dobby? And why did they wear the locket when they could have shoved it in the beaded bag, put a sturdy string around that, and worn the beaded bag around their necks? Give them some kind of protection? Sigh. It's for narrative purposes, not sense-making purposes. Or give us more deaths during that process, they come across some cool dead bodies of Muggleborns and it freaks them out.

The deaths: ok, let's start with my clear frustration with Remus and Tonks dying (for narrative purposes, I also get, orphaned child, last Marauder is gone, Tonks is young and dies early like Alice Longbottom, whatever). Andromeda Tonks is left with Teddy. Wtf, did JKR forget that Andromeda existed when she killed Remus and Tonks off? Did she realized she killed a whole family? What? Narrative purposes, I say to myself, but also want to scream.

I would've had more deaths, but different ones. Instead of Fred, I'd have killed Bill and Molly. Fleur would be newly pregnant and not know it, so Victoire would still exist, but Bill dying would bum everyone out, and have a fatherless child. Then Molly--just imagine Arthur without her. Do it. Kill the next closest mother figure Harry has. Have Neville kill Bellatrix instead, but make it more of an accident. Ron will kill Nagini. That's the stuff right there. Or hell, get Andromeda Tonks all up in there, have HER kill Bellatrix, and die in the process. Leave Tonks with her little family. Oh, and as an added kick, set the epilogue only a year later, have it be Arthur's funeral because he died of sadness or whatever but things are looking up elsewhere.

That epilogue. While I'm ok with it giving us the Potter kids and Tedoire, I would have loved to have left it to the imagination. You know what would've been good? Arthur's funeral, but have all the canon couples be together as engaged or newly married, Fleur's holding fatherless Victoire, and Arthur is joining his oldest son and his wife in the grave. Lupin and Tonks are there with Teddy and then they go see the Tonkses' graves to put flowers there or something. Remus wasn't really a father figure to Harry but Arthur was. Kill all the real parent figures. Get Vernon and Petunia in the ground too just for shits and giggles.

Anyway. That turned into a much bigger rant. I was more or less dissatisfied with the how of everything, a little bit of the why, and I like the how and why to be congruent. Why things made narrative sense was fine enough, but let me scream about how dumb the camping trip, secret keeper rules, battle of seven potters, and screech about Remadora.

at the end of the day they're all fragments of fiction that are vehicles to tell a story, and while I understand the story that was ultimately told, it doesn't mean I like the ending or that I think it was satisfying for the saga that came beforehand.

that's what fanfic is for!

[rodeoclowm]

bill cipher is like a less subtle king in yellow figure to me.

sources:

-yellow

-always lurking just out of view; he's there even when he isn't

-vile horror of unimaginable power

-drives the mind mad

-cursed book

maybe I'll elaborate on this .. . maybe. feel free to add ur own connections