#but I do think the post is kind of hollow because the question kind of left me stumped

[yallthemwitches]

hiiii. if you're still doing the ship asks, could you do uhh 7, 27 and 39. if they spark joy etc. they're all connected in a way because I'm obviously in some kind of mood

I am ALWAYS happy to answer ship questions. Keep them coming ;)

7. How often do they say I love you?

Pretty often, probably daily, though not enough to where it feels flippant and hollow. It's very much something that naturally slips out when they get a moment to breathe during the day and can take a moment to just be together. James says it more often but Lily is quite generous as well, often whispering it to him when she passes him in the halls (which of course makes him flustered and not want to keep going to his class).

27. How do they say "I love you non-verbally"

Lots of physical touch and acts of service to one another.

Touching/caressing/being affectionate physically during the day is their bread and butter. For example: James brushes her hair on the couch because he knows how much she likes it ( and he in turn likes how much she leans into him when he does it), and Lily will run her fingers softly over his face until he falls asleep when he's particularly wound up from stress.

I also think they do go out of their way to make each other's lives easier or to be a silent support. For instance when Lily has a difficult exam, James will stay up and fall asleep on the couch alongside her while she studies or Lily will bring a book and watch James at quidditch practice because she knows it means a lot to him (because let’s be honest, James’ love language is attention).

I don't feel like either of them are big gift people, though James had to grow out of it. I'm sure at the beginning he tried to make some big purchase gestures that didn't really amaze her as much as he expected. In time he came to learn that the best gift of all is to make her laugh until her cheeks hurt and to hold her tight whenever possible.

39. When and How did they admit they fell in love with each other?

James knew the second he met her, though it didn't form into real cognizant love until around sixth year when he was able to fully process it as such. I'm in the camp that Lily never really despised him but pretended to dislike him so much due to Snape ( though she was not a fan of his bullying) and her fondness only grew for him as he grew up as a person.

I think she really fell in love with him somewhere between 6th and 7th though she would be in denial about it until mid 7th year. She absolutely said I love you first because James was too afraid of scaring her away and mucking it up.

I think it probably happened quietly and naturally. Lily was even a little taken aback by herself to one day just say it as they were having a perfectly normal day reading in the common room. Being completely blindsided and elated, James probably needed a second to let it sink in before absolutely throwing himself at her, resulting in a lot of laughter and kisses and James repeating it about as many times as he had thought to say it in the 7 years he was forced to stay silent.

Feel free to ask more from this question post!

[shiraishi--kanade]

Can you explain your thought process about liking An?? Or is that like an opposites attract thing for you? /gen /not neg

This is such an interesting question but thank god for the tone indicators because for a moment there I thought I was genuinely being attacked for liking An Shiraishi. Sorry I'm going to An Shiraishi jail /j

On a more serious note... I guess I kind of just do like her. I think her writing is decently good if massively underappreciated - she's not a masterpiece of a character as I'd consider some other PJSK guys to be (namely Ena, Mafuyu, Emu and Rui) and the writers tripped over their own leg more than once with her with some arcs still being... In a kind of limbo with her now, but she has decent depth to her. An tackles the topics of insecurity in her own skills and also berates herself for feeling a certain way, very consistently, she is often self-deprecating and has her self-esteem knocked down more and more as the plot goes on - it's fun to watch her show all of this while also being by every outsider's admission one of the most lively, determined, easy-going, friendly and competent characters.

What goes on inside An's head and what she actually shows outwardly are often completely different things, and she is reserved and and secretive in some circumstances while also being open and communicative in others - it's just... Fascinating, combined with all the issues above. And we know that in most cases it's not even about necessarily being secretively by nature, An is just absolutely the kind of person to put off resolving the problem until she literally can't anymore. Which isn't a unique thing in pjsk, and there are many more characters that like just putting the whole thing aside for the moment because they don't want to deal with Feelings and Vulnerability (from the top of my head: Rui, Mizuki, Touya, partially Saki?) or are just so convicted they can't change anything by opening up to people anyway so they don't (Emu, early Honami ig?), but it takes an An Shiraishi to know her only way forward lied into confronting her feelings & the reason behind them & openly acknowledge that and then actively avoid doing so, for months, because she was scared, while also hating on herself for being scared. And I think that's like. Really cool because of the Anhane role reversal. Like you would never expect to see An in that position when you read main story of early vbs events. How interesting is that?

There's also themes community & family & trust & rivalry & loneliness and isolation with her; just like... A lot. Most of it isn't shown directly, but she is a lot.

An is a character best seen in the contrast with other and she really shines with VBS to be honest. I don't think you can tear An away from her backstory and relationships with people in her life and still have a solid character because she is defined by her life circumstances, which is right up my alley of "oooh I'm gonna blorbo this guy badly".

Tl;dr:

I just like her writing tbh. She's fun to toss around, but it's also definitely contributed by Jiena's voice acting and her generally nice design. I wouldn't like her as much if not both of these factors.

As for the opposites attract: I do generally tend to like extremely skilled characters that struggle with finding someone at their level regardless of if they share that genki girl personality, so I don't think it's that. I really like shounen guys. Can you tell.

That said if An Shiraishi was real I'd Not want to be near her lol. I'm an extreme introvert that generally doesn't like interacting with people and I feel like her presence alone would be overwhelming.

[yandere-romanticaa]

Recently, the surge of AI has caught everyone's attention and I've been working on this little experiment.

Down below the cut are two fics and this is how I planned it - one was made up by using AI (more specifically, Chat Gpt) while the other one was written by yours truly. Below both fics will be a poll and I would like for you, my dear readers, to guess which one was AI. Personally, I don't think it'll be a difficult challenge but seeing your reactions and comments on this should prove to be an interesting endeavor.

This was posted on April 17th. And, in 7 days, I shall reveal which fic was written by me, and which one was done by AI.

Now then, let's get on with the show.

🥀 Story One.

In the dimly lit alleyways of Yokohama, Fyodor Dostoevsky stalks his obsession, (y/n), with unwavering determination. His fixation transcends reason, driving him to extreme lengths to possess (y/n)'s affection.

Fyodor's obsession with (y/n) began innocently enough, a mere curiosity sparked by their untapped potential and innocence. But as time passed, that curiosity twisted into an all-consuming desire, festering within Fyodor's mind like a venomous serpent.

Each night, Fyodor would follow (y/n) from a distance, his heart pounding with anticipation and longing. He would watch as (y/n) laughed with their friends, oblivious to the dark presence lurking in the shadows.

But Fyodor's love was not the gentle, nurturing kind. It was possessive, suffocating, and dangerously obsessive. He couldn't bear the thought of (y/n) belonging to anyone but him, couldn't stand the idea of anyone else basking in the warmth of (y/n)'s smile.

As his obsession deepened, Fyodor's mind became consumed with dark fantasies of possessing (y/n) completely. He would spend hours meticulously planning every detail of their future together, envisioning a life where they were inseparable.

But fantasies were not enough for Fyodor. He needed to make them a reality, no matter the cost. And so, he began to weave a web of deception and manipulation, carefully orchestrating events to bring (y/n) closer to him and drive away anyone who dared to stand in their way.

But as Fyodor's plans grew more elaborate, so too did the danger. (y/n)'s friends grew suspicious of Fyodor's intentions, sensing something sinister lurking beneath his charming facade. And as they delved deeper into Fyodor's past, they uncovered secrets that threatened to unravel his carefully constructed world.

But Fyodor was not about to let anyone come between him and his beloved. He would do whatever it took to protect their love, even if it meant resorting to violence.

🥀 Story Two.

Shimmering waves of starlight engulfed the man in white as he monitored his target from a safe distance, hollow purple eyes gleaming with excitement. He could feel his long fingers twitching with anticipation in his warm pockets, a stark contrast to the chilly wind on this fine spring evening.

He needed to be patient. Because patience was indeed, a virtue.

And Fyodor was a virtuous man. Perhaps not a good one, but he would gladly take the title of virtue.

Would you bestow upon him such a title? Would you do so, if you ever found out that he had taken such a keen interest in you? The rational part in his mind said no, of course not. Unlike him, you were blessed with normalcy. There was nothing extraordinary about you - no ability, no wealth, no status.

Nothing.

You could have been squished like a bug beneath his heel and the world would just keep on going as it always would. Sure, there would be some individuals who would miss you dearly but even they would move on at some point.

Such was the nature of humanity. How cruel, he thought to himself.

Fortunately for you, Fyodor was no ordinary man. Despite his predicament, he had grown fond of you. He was not sure why but after a while, he stopped asking such trifling questions as to why he troubled himself by giving you so much attention.

It was pointless to make sense of the senseless.

Right here, right now, all he wanted was to enjoy this quiet evening by his lonesome, as he tailed behind you like a creeping shadow. He would reveal himself to you properly when the time was right, when he felt you were strong enough to take him.

Fyodor just needed to wait a little bit longer, just long enough to see how he should proceed with you in case things went south.

In the meantime, he would gladly spend every waking moment simply watching you for his own personal pleasure.

🥀 TAGS: @yanroma, @oneoftheprettynerds, @misdollface, @sxy0ung, @rosemary108233, @c4xcocoa, @gettinshiggywithit, @ophticcus, @lakxcpsta, @ranposgirlboss, @robinaxolotl, @acornwinter, @enoojnij, @ishqani, @osachiyo, @bluepeanutharmony, @kaithegremlin, @fyodorscockslut, @wcayaw, @luna-mariko-akatsuki, @lovelyyz, @queenofspades403

APRIL 24TH - Story One is AI.

[sminiac]

౨ৎ⋆ ˚｡ Bad Miracle | Day 24 of Piwontober !

⋆ Ex Bf!Choi Jiung x Reader

Event hosted by my beloved @kisseobie & @sxfterhearts <3

Prompts — Seduction, Against a wall, Somnophilia.

Contains — Alcohol consumption, saliva consumption, slight exhibitionism, oral, porn with plot, sex in a vehicle, very heavily ‘Nope’ referenced, Jiung being kind of pathetic.

💌 — This is quite a lengthy read which is genuinely my bad, I got so carried away, I just love Jordan Peeles brain. If there’s any consistencies pretend there isn’t, I’ll be making tweaks here and there to this even though it’s already posted, I was just worried abt getting it out haha, thanks :b

“So…slutty Jean Jacket it is?”

Of course Jongseob happens to string together his most unpleasant sounding set of words and absentmindedly spews them out at you, precisely summing up your biggest internal struggle.

It’s like he’s petulantly flicking salt into the gaping deep seated wound of guilt that hollows you out.

Despite your torment, it still eats at what’s left of you for subjecting him to even more of your off-putting behaviour that’s only worsened over the past few weeks leading up to the party. Unknown by him, you’ve been fighting with the same question the entire ride out, it’s been sitting in your mouth, warm and heavy like a bad bite you just can’t swallow.

Maybe you deserve it. Fortunately Seob’s tolerance for your fret without a readily available solution to wash it down, disinfect you of the bile, is astounding—gold medal deserving, even though your plastic display case now feeling more like cardboard box because of your ex’s absence.

Seob is already frequently withdrawn because of his jobs demanding schedule, leaving him socially deprived, added an unhealthy addiction to energy drinks that only makes his screen induced migraines worse.

Funnily enough, with the proclivity for being a cloistered insomniac he possesses the biggest hatred for being alone. Impromptu hangouts are a norm, or—were a norm, especially the late voluntary hours you spent with him watching over the dingy looking bookstore that smells heavily of dried glue and mildewed paper. You haven’t been there in a while, but you didn’t mind how often you were staring at the same ‘Employees favourites!’ end cap that have held the same boring books for the past handful of months that he’s been collecting the same boring bi-weekly cheques.

It’s a different kind of bonding, what the two of you do, one where you don’t feel pressured to constantly entertain the other, which is why there’s a remarkable lack of awkward tension now.

It’s normal for Seob to be spacey once trapped in that busy head of his, full of silent yearning for a position in the lively music store that’s just down the street from his, even with what little room his discontent leaves up there, he doesn’t lack the critical thinking skills that it takes to figure out the foundation of your ulterior motive, which he assumes was the very thing that led to your sudden call for a ride after being so steadfast in your refusal to attend a party that you know fully well he’ll be at.

The fact that Seob grudgingly agreed to your company for the ride here doesn’t mollify your stacking inhibitions anymore than the culpability thats balling up in your throat, keeping your tongue tangled and barred in its enclosure, a strange thing he implicitly feels inclined to shoulder too.

A finger adjusts the strap of your wings that uncomfortably dig into the soft part of your underarm, its already a struggle conducting the sexy inwardly it doesn’t help that he sounds so dejected talking about your version of the large horse hunting saucer.

Flowing light with each sway of your hips the white mini skirt you hunted for is hugging nicely at your hips, while silently you endure the tedious task of having to pull up the thin cheap-feeling socks every few meters you walk, which isn’t something you have to explicitly express your loathing for anyways, he could already tell by the third yank.

But, you look good, even with the excessive effort and inconveniences, you know you do.

All of your details, even down to the pair of red lace panties that shape you in just the right places, is for the sole purpose of what you’re walking into now—your secretive plan, which, if you outright ask Seob, is inherently a horrible idea, but even in all of its horrid glory you still pursue it tirelessly for the sake of having the smooth voiced male to yourself for just another night.

Dead set on getting your turn one last time, the intemperate lengths you went to for your costume would make sure of it. You’d make yourself a spectacle if thats what it takes to have him back in your optics.

Indiscriminately walking out from the shallow line of trees that taper off in thickness the further you come from the main road while actively sexualizing angels of all things, right in front of your squeamish, personification of virginity looking friend is the most anticlimactic, shameful culmination of what is —notably one of your more desperate attempts yet— made to somehow, some way, successfully seduce someone, and subsequently not how Seob envisioned his night out. Never has he ever seen you in something so indecent, so vile in the most watered down, gentle of words.

All of this, for what? Closure? He doesn’t get it, your intentions, the enervating process of breaking up only to then come back? Yeah, all of that and still somehow having the profound drive to do whatever it is you’re up to. He doesn’t fucking get it.

Fictitious or not you believe that somewhere past his denial and shaping of resentment there’s a sliver of him that supports you, in a: it’s just dick, do it! Way.

Besides, you could always do much worse than sleeping with your ex.

Your eyes are still focused on his location and nothing but. Zooming in, flicking out and refreshing the map that Jiung’s idle avatar sits on like some psycho stalker. You’ve been like this, acutely anxious and insufferably inquisitive ever since he parked his mom’s vehicle off the side of the dark secluded road when your map had suddenly gave out and stopped working due to the abrupt cutoff from service, it was in Jongseob’s opinion undeniably foreboding to how the rest of your evening was going to play out, but keeping a handle on his lips would probably be for the best.

With two vodka seltzers already settling into his system that you bravely shotgunned together in the front seat of the silver mini van, he’s already so dreadfully bored that not even his oncoming buzz is enough to make this enjoyable. He sighs a loud antagonizing breath, looking off his shoulder to see the small scattered twinkling mix of orange and purple hues starting to leak through the bushes, a muddled, faint sound of music and drunk laughter following.

Usually he’d be anxious to get to your destination but all he can think about is being home—getting plastered in the safety of his own cluttered room, with you, in comfy pyjamas and within the range of expensive fast-food delivery services instead of having to worry if some asshole with beer induced confidence is enough to get you to strip of that tiny fucking skirt, because when you’re drunk he’s convinced you were a track star in your past life, he hates sports, and he hates a floating drunk just as much as the talkative ones.

“You hear me?” He tsks, pinching at the cheap pair of wings on your back and tugging on it. His fresh bi-coloured hair that you did by hand sweeps with the motion of his suddenly weighted head, falling to the side of the dirt path that you walk, studying your face in the cool toned glow of your screen.

Hoping to catch a glimpse of Jiung, you’re too focused on tapping through the few stories people have posted to care for the small feathers he accidently rips out, leaving a bald spot on your right wing.

You swat his hand away, still cradling your phone. “Slutty…bad, yeah i know, you despise me. But it’s…fitting, isn’t it?”

God, he thinks, if only it were that easy.

He watches as you slide up out of the app, and then promptly tap it back open again, eyes rolling for the umpteenth time tonight “What? The sexualization of a territorial slaughtering alien? You can’t be serious.” Hands stuff further into the pockets of the baggy denim that hangs at hips, a thick braided chain hung off the loops of his waistband, clanking with the dramatic rise.

Who does he think he is? Acting all high and mighty. “You’re the one who speculated that Jean Jacket found OJ worthy of mating with, this is all your doing, boy. And, arguably, your costume isn’t even really a costume but I’m not saying anything about that.”

If you were to ask the rest of the friend group who has all taken a sudden, unexpected interest in the 2022 sci-fi thriller movie —that in your opinion is more of a psychological-thriller than horror— they’d make quite the defensive argument about it, the same way you expect Seob to with his half-assed take on Angel Torres.

“That’s insane, so you want to mate with Intak? ‘Cause that’s what I’m hearing. If you’re so interested I can go grab him for you, or…would you rather take a ride on the cowboy?” He says it to be annoying, he didn’t mean it literally, but whatever he intended or didn’t the offer catches your attention.

Big unsure eyes peer over at him as you hug your phone close to your chest, which he already knows is your only source of heat that’s preventing stiff fingers and chattering teeth. Another thing to roll his eyes about.

“If it saves a horse. You wouldn’t mind finding him from me?” The question comes with an abrupt pause, your feet just as uncertain as your tongue. “I- well shouldn’t we, i mean, how do you think he’d feel if i showed up with you? He was never fond of how close we are, so, should I walk up by myself?” If only you knew of how badly Jongseob wants to call you out for your stupidity right now, to slap your pretty face with both the flat surface of his palm and the back of his hand like they do in the cartoons. Before his lips can even move with the ghost of an insult, an unexpected laugh beats him to the sheer hilarity of your unnecessary complexities. “Wow- no? Thats fuckin’ pathetic, Y/N, I was being sarcastic. You seriously need’ta calm down, you’re not even a virgin and you’re acting like this.” A heavy hand of his reaches out, grinning in a way that makes his tooth poke out from behind his lip as he pats heavily against your shoulder, causing your winged frame to shake.

“No ‘m sorry, that was really harsh. Oh, you feelin’ it yet? ‘Cause I think i am..” At the same time he asks you both come to a sudden stop at the expansive clearing. The lights brighter, the music louder, a blazing fire maintained hot and tall to the left of you.

How did you not realize you were already here? How long ago did the effects of the two cans you knocked back start to kick in? Or, did it kick in?

“Y/N, Seob, you made iiit!” Shit.

Intak, the not-so-chalant ‘OJ’ tries to scoop you up in an awkward three-way hug, just barely do you manage to step back in time to not get lassoed in by his long orange sleeved arms. Obviously a few shots deep he doesn’t seem to notice that he’s only cradling one of you as he sways back and forth, babbling loudly—something along the lines of being glad he has other people to drink with all while leaning his entire weight from one foot to the other and nuzzling the the top of his forehead against Seob’s.

Keeho and Taeyang, a very well decided fit for ‘Emerald’ and ‘Antlers’ are a few paces back, red solo cups in hand, sharing an unfaltering run of giggles over what you assume is Intak’s tendency for being overly affectionate and Jongseob’s constant susceptibility to it. You break off from the two emotional idiots, finding company with the other two who are at least not swaying and going on drunken tangents about how much they love each-other.

Keeho announces loudly, “Y/N, sexy Jean Jacket! I like it.” While wrapping an arm around your shoulder, unhesitant about inviting you in as he’s always done, sticking you right between him and Taeyang who shuffles away a little with a genial smile, allowing you more wiggle room.

The three of you make short conversation, bonding over detailed stories of the two in front of you that were actively wrestling; trying to see who would hit the ground first by aimlessly swiping at ankles. They went at it for a while, Intak’s boyish laughter and Seob’s shrill cackle entertaining you until you started getting so cold that it became a struggle for the sound to come naturally. By the time they calmed down, dry mouthed and winded, you’d finished off the last of Taeyang’s drink that he offered somewhere between Seob doing this and Intak doing that. Unsurprisingly you were the first to offer grabbing sodas and a special refill in thanks for Taeyang’s generosity, it was an unsuspecting card that you pulled, but Jongseob knows you aren’t that considerate, you haven’t even seen Shota yet, a presumed highlight of your night, your personal paparazzi.

You don’t hear the slurred, sputtered out complaints as you quickly make your escape under the poorly strung Halloween themed lights that dangle from one low branch to another along the perimeter of the barren landscape, especially by how quickly the bonfire draws you in like a moth, your motionless body gone cold from standing for so long—you figure that’s where it makes the most sense to be, plus, better scoping ground.

The boys wouldn’t mind a few forgotten minutes as you settle on top of a tree stump. Surely they could wait for you to warm up before returning.

This isn’t a place you’d typically be comfortable by yourself, it only sinks in as you settle. Couples aggressively make out across from you with their tongues and cheeks contorted by the heat, an uncomfortably loud game of beer pong on an unlevelled table that happens just a few feet away, and the boring’s who are only lively when there’s pictures being taken, bright and fast.

Beyond the fires hot flickering light, there’s an old barn, big and dark—much too big to be overtaken by the fire, notably ominous looking from the distance it sits at, something about its unwelcoming nature intrigues you.

We are a creature of habit, even the unforgiving ones, aren’t we? You lean forward, letting your cold cheeks warm in its embrace, squinting, trying to make out any little detail you can from being this far out.

“Y/N?” A masculine voice calls. It should be disgraceful the way you know exactly who it is as soon as the first syllable of your name is pronounced, but you don’t have the spare time to linger on it.

He doesn’t wait to see your face before he proceeds to silently crouch down at your side, coolly granting himself the pleasure of your company without the need of clarity, it almost makes you question how he’s so comfortable and certain of himself for doing it, granted that of in itself is quite the rabbithole.

A colourful can occupies his hand as he bends in his red blazing-like suit, floral embellishments decorating the blazer, sporting a smile under his cowboy hat, white hot teeth the glint of your very demise. “i knew it was you.” He finishes suavely, body planting in your direction but his chin rests on his shoulder, only allowing you the right side of his cheek and jaw.

Spot on, you think. He couldn’t be more like Jupe even if he tried.

An arm is propped to the side of your thigh to keep his rocking weight stable. Eyeing what little he’s lent to your field of view, theres a lingering smile of your own, wondering if he’d also move it closer without a word.

“God. ‘Knew it was you’ don’t tell me you’re a stalker now, Jiung.” It’s endearing, really, your wit smoking off your tongue and he’s only spoken a few words, he loves how you don’t cower under his towering height because of its persistence. “Are you?” Seems your skin has thickened in his absence, too.

It’s sharp, the sensation of his teeth digging into the delicate internal flesh of his lips, pursing them tight as his defined adams apple bobs in his throat. He’s humoured by you. “Mmh not quite. I, can be though, if that’s the kind of thing you’re into now.” You don’t see the way his eyes flicker towards you under the bone white suede of his ridiculous hat, brows raised in a subtle sign of expectance on your end, then again, you can’t see it.

“Is it?”

Your head shakes, an airy almost bashful laugh filling in your wordless mouth, its a different timbre in comparison to the girls he’s encountered previous to your arrival who were fervently nodding as if he had just asked if they wanted a treat when he was dropping vague hints to the unraveling of their revealing costumes. Your wet lips glisten in the available light, smiling that pretty fucking smile he can trace in the cold wrinkles of his pillowcase. “Like.. roleplay? Never thought about it, pervert. What’ve you been getting up to since I’ve been away?” His laugh is fuller than yours as it abruptly escapes, but it’s a shared emotion nonetheless, even if you loathe the way he shares it with you so easily.

“Man, you wouldn’t even believe. Speaking of, do you…aghh, no- never mind.”

You twist, but his position only hardens. A sour ringing in your gut at the implications of his activities. “No, oh my god, no, you can’t do that? Do…i, do i what?”

Out of habit he start toying the silver ring that sits on his ring finger, a swipe of his pink tongue running against the corner of his mouth. It’s stupid, even he’s wondering where the overbearing amount of confidence came from that prompted him to even think of asking you such a thing. But he never learns. Does he? “Do you- i mean, are you into…that kind of stuff?”

A chill crawls up your back, dispersing over your skin, dancing on your spine. “Well, i mean- that’s an awfully personal question, considering we aren’t…” Jiung backs up a little bit, his arm shifting away from your thigh as if he didn’t expect for you to remember that you aren’t dating anymore. “—No yeah, it is isn’t it? You’re right I shouldn’t uh- you shouldn’t answer that, i mean, you don’t need to. Obviously.”

The drinks you’ve kocked back are really starting to build off of one another, so much that you don’t even try to hide the entertainment you consume at his expanse. A laugh makes him feel lighter. “Obviously…I was joking, you already know what makes me tick, right? Don’t get your incredibly red suit all dirty about it.” Panicked, Jiung lifts his arm, looking along his elbow to see a few smudges of tree pitch dragging along his sleeve. “Shit,” he murmurs, desperately attempting to rub it off with dry fingers. “was expensive too.”

The curved brim of his hat is full in your vision, a desperate shake to his frame as he fruitlessly tries to lessen the stain. “Spit on it.” You thoughtlessly suggest while crossing your leg over your other, attention fully diverted from his panic, because thats the pleasure you have of doing now.

Jiung stops suddenly, the top half of his face that’s still well hidden from the angle lowers further from your sight. Utterly clueless he eyes at what little skin you’ve exposed to him. Generally speaking the expanse of your soft looking legs isn’t a lot, but with a sex drive as high and responsive as his, Jiung already feels the switch of pressure in his lower region flip.

‘Spit on it’ he thinks, trying to subtly adjust his waist out of view. Do you know how insane you have to be to say that around him and not mean what he now so badly wants it to mean? His short nails drag over the sticky spots along his arm, redirecting his attention to the ground, for your own sake, for his. “I don’t think that’ll work.” He utters.

This is humiliating, he’s the one dressed as a cowboy yet here you are doing the wrangling, and you don’t even know how good of an arm you have.

His thighs tense under the tightening fabric, fighting the sudden urge to move in a way that’ll satisfy his stirring cock. He can’t fuck his ex-girlfriend, thats not something he does, that would be…deplorable, he’d be despised by your shared mix of friends, but fuck, he’s never wanted to see what those buttons on your shirt would reveal if he were to rip them free, would Seob, the more protective of them all even notice if he took you right in front of the orange light? Would he keep watching if Jiung made you messily fuck yourself on his cock? Your finger taps on the crown of his hat, “Your mouth dry?” You ask.

Jiung’s lips part, but then decidedly shut again as he nods. “Yeah, uhm, really dry, is there any water? ‘m not feeling good.”

Honestly, you should’ve known that the host of the party would’ve had it somewhere you’re not even supposed to be, and that all of the drinks were hidden in the barn so it wouldn’t look suspicious coming to the property with heavy coolers and kegs. The water was left behind thinking it wouldn’t be important enough, nor worth the struggle of trudging through sharp dead grass to retrieve it.

You set out towards the ominous building, a quieter volume than you assumed is shared in the passing stroll, the few words that you do exchange are fluid, amiable in short, and enough for you to successfully rock your weight into every divot in the hard-to-see ground. Your ankles have a much easier time when Jiung intently takes your arm around his, making you hold onto him with an assertive hand, you feel the way it effectively causes your dilapidated barrier to crumble under his touch, the frail support beams of your silence that you’ve been silently trying to uphold comes crashing down just as fast as he links into you.

He knows just as well as you that it’ll only lead to more of your mutually fruitless efforts to be squashed underfoot, but neither of you speak on it, instead you step a little harder and you hope a little less that your backup walls manage to persevere through his wrath. Unsure of if this is right, if you’re allowed to cling to him like this, any lick of your self restraint being wrapped up by a frail splitting string, intent on squeezing you in two halves. The small unfurling existence thats been covertly living somewhere inside of him starts to crack when your attention evolves into something vast, the same one that bloomed in the heat of his bed, seeking to be bathed in your pouring praises.

There’s always been something about you, something infuriating, something nauseatingly enticing about the way you patiently tend to his almost-aching cock with such a weightless attention compared to the borderline fret that others may have felt about getting him to reach his peak.

But tonight, he would leave different.

Even as you’re smoothing his pre-cum down the curve of his erection, his unopened bottle of freezing cold water discarded at his feet, your eyes find other things to admire.

Your head is in the clouds and he’s losing to what’s above.

Struggling with the knowledge that the space you occupy is unrestricted area, Jiung fights with the unimpeded sounds of soft fuss that burst from his mouth.

You don’t notice. Or, maybe you just don’t care. “It’s pretty tonight…clear, you notice?” The slightest amount of pressure is appended to your already taut fist as you wetly stroke him down to his base, pace notably far too lackadaisical for his taste, however he still finds some form of joy in this, almost exciting in a way, how you build back into the motion of things, running a finger over his tip ever few returns you make to the head. Despite his prior grievance you do manage to press slightly against his balls with the established speed of your milky glide, a guttural sound initiated by both the coursing zip of twitching pressure and the lack of increase in speed.

After having made a sticky mess of your palm it comes up to circle at his tip, grooving so sensitively against his continuously drooling slit that it admits an additional series of whimpers to escape, some he manages to catch before they drawl out, others he has to physically stop himself from letting free by digging his teeth into his red swollen lip. “Shit, been too fo-fuck! Focussed ‘n you.” Normally, he can pull out a minuscule reaction with that one, but it’s as if his piteous response drifts right past your ears. Continuing to drag long boring strokes absentmindedly you mutter back, “That’s sweet Ji’.” dismissive of his tactics, you look like you’re speaking more to the air and not to his face as you deftly slip the small silver hooks from the top of your corset. “‘s not!” He cries, emotion tightening in his face, trying to evoke some sense of empathy into you, any little sliver you have to offer.

Unsuccessful, you hum to yourself in a hairsbreadth of contemplation, “I don’t feel like putting you in my mouth tonight, y’know. ‘m sorry if that’s what you were waiting for.” It isn’t sincere, he knows you don’t mean it when you take your attention away from him to briefly peak your head out from behind the shed. “Aren’t listening to me…spent s’long, so much ‘f my- fuck, time. Hn’ you wont even pay attention t’me.”

Being on the furthest side from the lights makes for quite the struggle to scan the field, to see if anyone has managed to stray away from the group, you worry for your reclusiveness. Before you can get a good thorough look Jiung weakly rests an unsteady hand on your cheek, curling along the structure of your face as he silently pleas for a minute—just another minute added to his time spent with you, its all he needs.

Narrowed in confusion your eyes find him before the rest of your body cares to follow. “What?” You coax, bland of confusion, or even a genuine interest at all. Still he’s persistent as ever about his goal tonight. To get a word out of you at the very least was successful but nothing to feel exultant about, there’s still a large nagging part of you thats unvanquished, and there’s not a chance he’s backing out now when he’s so, so close.

He swallows, an expression on his face that would be poignant to anyone, except you. “Listen please. Just want you to make me forget where we are, or- shit, who i am to you- if i matter or not. I’ll take it.” He looks pained as your slowing motions come to a gradual halt, letting out a strenuous needy groan, but you can tell in some sick way that he’s savouring every bit of his torture, like he’s ready to spew the words ‘thank you’ any second now as you run your thumb against his sore slit.

His cock stands upright, so wet and heavy that it bobs a little even with the scant movement of his hips and no support of your hand. He’s so pretty, so much that you could chant it in a never ending string until your words blur together and no longer sound real, so pretty and so stupid. The pressure is ripped away, only returned so you drag the pad of your index finger up the side of him so painfully slow.

“You will, huh?” You ask,continuing to trace him. “Whatever i give you?”

Greedier than time, firm in his belief he confirms “Everything.” via burnt throat. “Give yourself to me, need you t’use me if thats what you need.”

“You’ll be quiet?” It’s a gentle ask, as soft as the breeze that makes him shiver just the same when he feels it.

A nod once slowly, twice, and then it becomes so fast. “Everything?” You ask again, bold—unsure of if that’s the kind of question he’ll willingly answer a second time, if it’s something he thought critically about the first, but the feeling of hearing him say it is so satisfying you can’t help wanting it a second time.

It’s funny, someone like you not expecting someone like him to drop everything for just a strum of your time. He has nothing, absolutely and completely nothing to lose. Jiung’s been looking for a pleasant sounding being all his life, and this whole time a symphony was right under his nose.

With not even a waver in his voice Jiung replies, steadfast on his decision for a second time: “Everything.” With equally as much conviction on his tongue.

Fingers work fast at your panties, tugging them down and off. Jiung watches, choked with words, his desire, feeling whiplashed by your pace and the contrast of lace. He’s overwhelmed, but fuck does he enjoy it. The underwear is as good as forgotten when he drags a large tantalizing hand along his stomach, a habit of his that’s known of, he likes the way his nerves tingle, how the feeling goes straight to his cock, it reminds him of the time you made him explain to you in thorough and jaw achingly explicit detail how he likes to fuck himself when you’re away, the way you squeezed your thighs tight when he mentioned the parts that weren’t inherently sexual, but were a habit of teasing. Is it bad to wonder if he stills does it the way he told you? Even though the underwear is an extremely flattering cut and colour, you couldn’t possibly care any less when his fingers reveal the set of butterflies underneath his crisp button down, finger tips dragging over the sensitive lines.

The light touch of your own fingers quickly guide his cock between your plush thighs, “Pretty, whadda’ they mean again?” he can feel the heat you put off before the both of your faces are screwing up at the sudden feel of each others differing temperatures. You don’t really care, he knows you don’t. “Being pretty isn’t enough?” Jiung can feel the brittle air dispel from his body as you reach a hand down to better separate your sticky folds over his dick in addition to a soft rocking motion. Immediately catching at your sopping hole when he shoves forward, you catch the way his chest squeezes in with a depriving inhale of air.

It feels like he’s just been punched in the gut, hands dropping to your waist to keep himself held back against the wood wall, a deep groan unfolds in his chest, shooting up his throat at the haze of pleasurable tingles. “Love that you don’t really care, know you don’t, fuckin’ love it.”

You’re ridiculously soft, and so fucking hot that it almost hurts from the effect of the frigid air, he can’t believe this is what you’ve been keeping from him, that he allowed it to happen. He should not be as gone as he is without even being inside of you yet, but god the thick warmth of your arousal coating over him is so heavenly as you start moving, finding refuge in you from the cold. “Can’t…can’t keep…” he struggles, unknowing of what it is exactly that he can’t do, but what ever it is you’re greatly overestimating him if you continue to keep grinding your slick pussy on him like this.

Mortifying, that’s what it is when his head is thrown back, unable to watch you inconspicuously rub yourself along his length, coupled with getting an ear full of your muffled sounds of pleasure. Taking the opening of his neck you lean in, tongue dragging against his skin before pressing light pecks to the wet area. You move so fervently that he can feel his tip poking out and brushing against your skirt on the other side—dragging along his dick, the stitching in the front soaks up your remaining fluids.

He’s able to catch quick glimpse of his drenched cock with a certain swift bump of his head directly against your clit, but even in his sputtering pleasure he refrains from watching all too closely, even when soft, more audible sighs start billowing out of your pretty mouth. “Y/N, baby plu-please…‘m not as strong willed- fuck, ‘s you think i am.” He tries his best to keep his lower half still, open for you to use—his twitching erection pressed snug under you, between, but the rest of his body unapologetically has a scorching drive of its own.

Not in the softness of his bed but he so badly wishes that he was. He can’t grip at the wrinkled sheets or fist at his pillows, the only surface keeping him held is the damp wall that you can hear the scratch of sewn sequence in the shape of a flying saucer grazing against.

Compared to the wreck of a man pressed in front of you, the pleasure you feel isn’t immense or head spinning-ly good, but, witnessing, feeling the way you have him acting makes up for its lacking amounts. “Ohh, Jiung, already know you aren’t.” The feigned empathetic lilt you speak in comes naturally, your eyes soften, a gloss to them that he’s familiar with being in his own even though his friends swear he has the metabolism of a pig.

He’s so incredibly drunk on you, absolutely wasted—fascinated beyond belief that it’s possible.

Everything feels like its slowed down, he vaguely notices the way your cheeks push your lower eyelids closer to your irises, a sharp devilish smile tensing your muscles as you simultaneously nudge his dick back with the very tip of your index finger, nestling him right under your weeping cunt, your walls tensing with the expectancy of a welcomed stretch.

You’re fucking drenched, fluctuating in excitement as you lift to the tips of your feet, then sink back with a long muted breath as he coasts inside with a huffed “Fuck…”

Nodding his head profusely, in semblance of chanting ‘good, good, good’ as he heels his body forward—out, cold hip bones pressing fluttering kisses against yours. He pauses from the sense of embarrassment augmented by your scrutiny as you sink him deeper, yet it’s still such an addicting feeling to be under, he needs more but can’t bring himself to fall under his orgasm so easily. He spasms, hesitates plenty, all the way until he’s completely bottomed out.

“Please, let me…” your body finds balance with manicured fingers pressed into his shoulders, an aching arch closer to his chest. “Let you what?” You wrangle out through a tight chest, your lips find his, speaking directly against him, into his mouth. “Don’t be coy, jus’ lemme’ fuck you already Y/N.” His head slopes slightly to the left, looking at your lips under his heavy eyelids—already waiting for a kiss that he can only hope you’ll be willing to spare.

He noses at your cheek in waiting, sharing with you his stuttering breaths as he presses a warm peck on the side of your mouth, refusing to kiss where he wants without his call of permission being uttered. “Be good, I will, make you feel- good.” The fasten of your arms around his neck is swift, a further proof of your allowance, “Really good?” You raise, urging his head straight and back.

He feels the hat lift from the back of his warm head, the change in air amplified by the sweat that clings to the roots of his hair. It pops off, but he’s buzzing in delight much too greatly to care. He slides the words out, “Really good.” with a mouth full and wet as you reach for the broad crown of white, fingers hugging as you lift it over to your head.

“Go on then.”

Almost instantaneously he’s grabbing your hips, planting a solid foot and expertly moving from his place to fit you between his chest and the barn. Hushing your small surprised gasp once he’s certain you’re stable, a chaste kiss against your brow bone as a damp palm wraps against your outer thigh, he moves it up, out, opening you so he can press further in as they drive forward, canted in his haste. “Wet—s’fucking wet my girl.” It’s a reflex to bury himself inside of you, as much- as far as you can handle and stilling once he can’t nudge himself any further. Every inch of his figure is effected by small shakes and straining twitches, choppy voice narrowly escaping as he palms at your neck, feeling, covering as much of your skin that his hands are capable of with a tight grasp of your thigh in his other hand, he needs you everywhere. Watches the process of your mouth falling slack, taking everything in, feeling the tender depth he reaches even at such a difficult angle, your fiery brain can’t even begin to comprehend how much more of you he’d be able to reach if you were in a different angle, one more accommodating, and promising of pliability.

“Focus, shut up ‘nd focus!-”

A small significantly heavier jump of his hips has your nerves shot to hell, but you hold yourself tight, even a sliver of composed is enough to be convincing. He works out of you in short, taking a fingers width worth of himself out, then giving you added an additional width of two in each return. The feeling is good, it’s filling after being starved for so long- a hunger strike if you will, but it doesn’t succeed in bringing you any closer to your orgasm. “Thought you said, you’d make me feel good.” You huff in a thin unconvincing voice, frustrated. His head descends to your shoulder, thinking that he’s welcomed when you let the slope of him in, that this is his claim, that there’s no more ground another person could cover that he’s not already been.

Nails sharp and hot scratch at his scalp in the motion of your joints closing around a clump of hair at the back of his head.

“disappointing.” Floats straight to his ear, its invasive, vibrating inside of his head like a frantic bee.

A startling moan rips from his hold, the kind where you know it was large and full of bass to start with but not strong enough to uphold up its weight, like helium spewing from the volatile confines of latex. Whining frantically, his eyes snap shut as he digs his face further into you, damp flesh pressing into damp flesh, the wet sticky sound of his cock repeatedly plunging into you from the rutting at such a loose impatient pace. The sight is indescribable, the rocking of two bodies, moving as one, feeling as one, yet the brains that keep you moving are so incredibly different from each-other, disconnected in emotion by light years, steps, miles, planes apart, but physically the closest you’d ever come to be.

His jaw is wrung slack, drool pooling out with his tongue lax over the edge of his bottom teeth. Globs of the tepid liquid drip as his thrusts flatten out into timed punches, it leaks down your clavicle, sticking to the curvature of your collarbones. His meek sounds jointly purged by your body as he slips the opening of the corset further apart, impetuously tugging further so he can get a proper hand on the soft skin.

Small unintelligible sounds are made in the back of his throat as he presses the centre of his palm to your breast, squishing the tense of your nipple into it. “Ji’,” he hears, restlessness distinct in your voice, coaxing, hoping for something more. Heedlessly Jiung’s arm, fingers that you’re so desperate to feel under your skirt, disappear from your sight, feeling as he brigs it to the side of your ass, resulting in an even greater awkward position for him to be in with his height, but he can ignore the strain he feels in certain pints of his neck and back for the way you start pressing into his hand, a struggled whine leaving your mouth with the offer of your chest to his touch. “Oh, you like that.” A squeeze to the supple round of your ass evokes a heaved sigh as he presses a cold wet kiss to the base of your neck.

The meek stimulation to your nipples isn’t as effective as your clit being played with, a vitalization, but not a slake to your insatiable thirst. A dry swallow, the pleasure all fizzles and intertwines the same even in its marginal amounts, you can’t bleat about it, the intentional squeezing around him becomes close to incessant because of it, begging that he continues with the teasing pinches as his hips oscillate with a steady reoccurring flow into yours.

From the sole feel of your body confidence daringly creeps up over his shoulder, pink tongue drawing the essence of it back in.

A silent indecipherable moment shared as he looks to you before leaning in, eyes flitting as he laves against the neglected bud, further covering you in him as the muscle retreats, curls back, cradling the secretion of saliva into the bend of his tongue before his lips pucker, letting gravity take over as it dribbles it out across your tit.

Brushing back his tussled hair, wanting a look of the glassy liquid as it departs from the warmth of his mouth, your body moves without the need for communication, fruitlessly drying to grind against his pelvis, but he’s got so much more ground. Your hand moves rashly against his mouth, index finger accepted gracefully by his tongue, an unhesitant thing—dancing against the digit.

Jiung—already so dazed, retracts back outside of you, leaving a few inches of himself in for a fleeting moment. The empty space he leaves behind aches for his return, but the sight of him readily taking a second finger to join your other mitigates any measly discomfort.

“Tell you i like it, ‘s that mean you wont touch on my clit for me?”

His lips tighten, tongue licking up against the appendages, trying to shake his head, lidded glossy eyes stare intently at your face.

“You know I’ll touch you all you want, just tell me.”

“Shut the fuck up, keep moving.” A tempting beckon for him to return back to the heat between your legs is made, small barely noticeable spots of dark over the thigh of his red slacks, how could he resist knowing of the mess you’ve made? He reaches down, skirt bunching around his wrist as his middle finger straightens out from its curve, running directly against the spot that has your entire body tensing.

A continuous slide is maintained as his thrusts quicken, full, unceasing.

The deep all consuming indication of his approaching orgasm falls into the unwonted rhythm of yours, frantic muttering and endearing whines that you try and fail to retain behind those pretty lips of yours.

It’s predictable, he thinks, the reckless abandon of your body trying to meet the movement of his own, craving for the throttling nudge of his cock to hit that special place you’ve been dreaming of.

Shallow breaths shared in a silent race. Jiung can feel your arousal starting to cover more of his finger, the dwindle in volume of your noises and the succumbing weakness in your legs. “Hol’ on pretty, mmnh—‘m gettin’ there,” he pants, your hip is far past the point of discomfort but the pain only punches your orgasm closer. “wait f’me, you can wait, huh? Know you fuckin’ can.”

God, you know you sound pathetic when a headlong “mhm!” Is tumbling from your restraint, and he adores the feeling of your body curling in on him, whether it’s subconscious or not, how you grip him so tightly, and beg for him to keep fucking you through your orgasm because once you’re stampeding through the crest of it qyou can’t keep a sensible control of how you sound or the way you move.

The obscuring blanket of fog on the windows collect into small droplets, he’s closer to believing that with each prolonged close of his eyelids that the small action spurs them to spill, allowing what’s left of the outside world a glimpse in through the thin clear streaks.

Hands abandon the secure hold on his flimsy shirt that drapes haphazardly off your backside, once spotless, now defaced by nature and your recklessness.

A lingering smell of sex hangs over your heads in the confined space, it should be repugnant, concerning the way he inhales the balmy scent so greedily, but on his own accord he justifies it in the sense that no matter how much he resents its existence, everything about you is so addicting-ly cruel—sweet with an overthrow of bitter that he yearns to internalize. You’ve always tasted, smelled all the same in compelling amounts.

Jiung can’t bring himself to be worried about his primarily bare frame being seen when his dick sheaths up into you so easily in frail minor strokes. The repetitive movement of his body leads his natural musk to emanate a heavier trace behind on your skin, the softer notes of his amber cologne crushed along the obsessive pull and hold at your back, frantically trying to keep your jelly limbs solid against him.

Stained shirt is gripped tighter in his fist, softening a whine by plunging it into an exhale as he hoists your body further up his thighs. The sheer amount of unpredictability of the situation arouses a flurry of tingles to surge from the bottom of his stomach, resistance starting to dwindle as you steadily crawl out of your hot slumber, thinking of the varying ways Jongseob would react if he conveniently showed up.

Jiung likes that someone could easily peak in and catch the both of any minute now with the recent influx of spilling people that exit from the property.

The paced rut of his cock drives him closer into overstimulation, having forced himself to still the past 2 times the unwelcome pressure of his peak pulled him to the top, you asked of him to wait, the request still vivid in his head, ‘until I wake’.

He’s doing himself absolutely no good, the steer of your weighty hips in his hold revitalize the entirety of the moment you asked him so sweetly to take care of you when your stamina was proved to be inadequate for the stretch of time he’s capable of keeping you busy in the back of the cold vehicle—knocked out with the remnants of your request still drowsily hanging onto your lips not too long after you snagged the keys from Seob’s pocket, your top clasped one hook off from the other.

The sudden flatten of your knees holding out on the seat gives him a better advantage, as well as a little bit of a scare. His clammy palms migrate to your ass, feeling on you as you press up for him, keeping yourself still so he can properly fuck into you from below. “J’…” you hum, voice barren and small, the middle buckle under your leg digging against your bone.

A hand massages at you, drawing light against the expanse of your soft skin. “I know honey, hn’know—shit..”

2:13 was read the last time he checked his phone, the feeble sound of yelling from the party starting to lose it’s vibrancy, to it now being 3:00 am with little to no noise, and his phone battery on the cusp of giving out and plunging the screen into indefinite darkness—something he’d normally be worried about, furthermore, try his best to avoid, but the way your breathing gradually softens on top of his chest as your body wakes to full responsiveness, telling by the squeezes around his length that its just what you asked for, it makes the significance of his trivial concerns so unusually minuscule.

His eyes clamp shut, swallowing down his discomfort from the lack of space he was meant to endure. “S’good, you’ve always felt s’fucking good, sweet girl.” He shifts again, caressing the back of your head, anchoring you through his stammering thrusts.

“Thirsty.” You groggily complain, slithering a slow hand between your bodies, pussy twitching from the praise, aching to be touched. Jiung was fearful of the sore throat that he knows you wordlessly suffer from now, it always does after you drink, your hoarse squeaks evidential as you trace messy circles over your puffy clit. Body far more awake than you feel.

He didn’t think to take any water before the two of you managed to slip by the boys, and there’s sure as hell not any sitting in here. “Poor baby.” Inwardly he takes the flitting time to mull it over, but realistically there’s not many options to begin with. Well, except for one.

He doesn’t hesitate when guiding your head back down to level with him, his flicking his chin up as an indication for a kiss, to which you cluelessly comply. He’s a little stunned that you meet him halfway, the mobility of his lower body unceasing, but that doesn’t hinder the process of his tongue invading your mouth seconds after he’s finally able to properly press his rigid lips against your soft pliable ones.

Expertly he shoves a wad of his spit onto your tongue, another peck left at the corner of your mouth as it disperses over the muscle before he curtly tips back. “Swallow.” He husks, sealing you off, parting from his offering.

He leans back onto his forearms, folded up blazer pushed beneath his shoulders, leaving you leaned over, wet lips holding the additional liquid inside. You let it slide to the back of your throat, gathering, he waits to see the movement in your neck so he knows that you’ve swallowed it.

When you do, the peak of his 2nd orgasm starts breaching his senses almost simultaneously.

The body of the van rocks in his urgency, sweat beading out from his hairline as it squeaks, empty cans at the foot of the front seats rattling. “Good, baby?” His face pinches, struggling to punch the words out. “Good Ji’, so fuckin’ good.”

The feeling of his quickly approaching orgasm is unworldly, yet the nagging palpability of your current circumstances looms equally significant in vitality. “Jongseobie…‘s gonna be so—so mad at us.” He worries aloud, glancing down at the dark outline of your hips that starts straying from the tempo he set, the wet sloshing sound of your cunt recklessly sucking him down intense to his ears. Your sporadic grinding against him is relieving to see. You’re close, within the same nearing distance that he is, aching for the final puncture at your thinning endurance that’ll snap you slack. “Making a mess, all over me ‘n the seats.”

What a time to finally have some consideration for your friend.

Instantly he feels the leverage you use to pitch your upper body upright, holding the top of the headrest as you meet his thighs with short bounces. You can only dream of reaching over to muffle his irrelevant noise with a hand, trying to focus on the creeping sensation that starts strumming at your nerves, one that makes your legs feel fuzzy, and causes sweat to drip down your back, it’s far more pleasant of a feeling when his mouth is shut.

Piqued by the sound of his voice, you huff back an unconvincing “We’ll deal with it-” as your head lulls back, allowing yourself to fall into the dark of your eyelids, letting you forget about what’s on the other side of the van, and exactly how you got here in the first place the faster you rub at your clit. “Jiung,” you whine, spasming and restless.

“Yeah baby” he struggles out.

You shift, hold straining around the headrest, around his cock in the same, slippery finger ruthlessly sliding on your clit.

“Need- shit Jiung, need you to shut the fuck up already, make me come.”

Fuck, it’s ridiculous the way you ask him of any little thing and he’s jumping to get it done. Jiung doesn’t take your demand lightly, a thoughtless account as his foot presses onto the carpet floor, the piston of his hips deepening out with the aid, pressing his length into you as far as he can reach, the unforgivingly lewd mix of your fluids ringing at the plinth of his cock—sticky against what’s managed to leak to the underside of your legs, you feel its thick consistency spread further from the shared pace that has you unraveling overtop of him in the matter of minutes, sinking from the muffled sound of his voice.

“Love—love you, baby, please, please say it back.” He blubbers pathetically, convinced by no one either than himself that you’re just as deep into this as he is, that’s this is just as emotionally charged.

“Come back, come back t’me…missed this pussy s’fucking much- god, fucking miss you.”

He can’t comprehend the second his own climax hits, it’s a blur of flesh and liquid, the stiffening of your body, the aggressive shaking from your waist down.

Your spent body melts down on top of his, a shared exhaustion sinking into your bones.

Fingers rub softly against the small of your back, unwilling to move even if the cramped position makes him ache and numb in certain points of his limbs. You hardly move, and for a fleeting moment he’s able to take it all in, the stillness, the quiet, the ambience that resembles the warmth of your relationship, clumsily fucking in places you shouldn’t, disappearing on weekends and not a singular trace left behind of where you went.

This is us, he thinks, painfully convincing himself into believing it utterly and completely, that this is leeway back into your old affairs. But the truth, it couldn’t be more clear, you’ve known it long before the door slides shut.

Tugging at your skirt, you smooth yourself out as you step away without a spared glance back, keys pressed into your palm, wrapped by your fingers. You’re content, satiated even previously being in the face of your unremitting constraint, you got what you came for, throughout the time it took you to get it, maybe you didn’t succeed in becoming the spectacle you thought yourself to be among everyone else, but with the spoken covet of your presence in his life again, you sure as hell felt like it.

Hefty footsteps thump closer to you at a concerning pace that slows you down. Flashlights swing along the ground, with the lack of it you can’t tell exactly who is running down the path—concerned by the urgency in their pace until the figure comes to a sudden out of breath stop.

Jongseob bends over, his sandpaper tongue striking the roof of his mouth.

“Cops were called, we gotta go.”

[rfswitchart]

Hunter's Comfort Food

I think, at this point, you all know my personal favorite Owl House headcanon. I shouldn't have to say what it is, you already know what I'm about to discuss. However, I am going to describe why Hunter loves what he does and maybe you'll adopt it as your headcanon too...

It all started when Hunter ran away from the Emperor's Coven Post-Hollow Mind. He'd been living in the paranormatorim in Hexside since, building a nest and living on snacks. Gus, having seen the former Golden Guard living so dreadfully, offers him his lunch, which, among other things, included a sandwich.

Hunter then helps Gus escape Adrian and the scouts, citing his reason for doing so being because Gus offered him food. When the illusionist questions him on it, Hunter says "It was a really good sandwich." As many have pointed out, Hunter's diet in the castle was probably miserable. On top of it, he was clearly malnourished, as several characters (Luz, Eda, Amity, Edric, Emira, Matt) have said. So it is assumed he didn't have a great time food wise, which is why he looked so happy eating that loaf of bread in King's Tide...

Yeah, look at him go. Happily chewing on some bread and being pleased as punch over it. And this is where my HC came to be, Hunter and Gus bonding over a simple offering of food. A kindness Hunter had probably never known until then, combined with something that probably saved his life or at the very least made him feel much better. I feel like that sole interaction weighed on Hunter's heart, and it made him fall in love with sandwiches. After all, without Gus' sandwich, he would have never been able to sit down and actually talk about how he was feeling about Belos. He wouldn't have bonded with Gus and helped the younger witch when he needed it most. Hunter developed an intensely strong bond with Gus, a friendship and brotherhood forged in love, trust, and sandwiches.

That said, I assume when they were trapped in the human realm, Hunter started looking into various types of sandwiches (with the help of Camila and Luz, of course.) Figuring out what the best meats and cheeses were. What kinds of vegetables go well with them (information he totally shared with Willow, obviously.) The best kinds of bread and condiments to compliment the other ingredients. I assume he learned about what foods he liked and disliked (boy loves himself some olives, btw.) Of course, this eventually lead to the ultimate creation. His pride and joy: The True Hero Sub. The culmination of his knowledge and understanding of foods that allowed him to create divinity between two slices of bread (well, shoved into a loaf of french bread, but hey, who's counting?)

Of course, this is a BIG sandwich. I know, that's the one I made myself. It is about 2' long (60.69cm for you non-Americans.) It is not something you can eat by yourself, and Hunter would never want to eat it alone. Because of this sandwich, Hunter came up with his philosophy on food; "Food tastes best when shared with others." So I assume the first time he made one, he shared it with the others. Definitely Gus, his sandwich brethren, and possibly Willow, someone Hunter would be thrilled to share his accomplishments with.

And this probably continued as he became an adult. I bet anything that Hunter has a series of sandwiches he brings with him to work. He maybe even wrote down his own cookbook of sorts for them. You KNOW anytime he had a new idea, Gus was the first person he told about it. He probably even made a book to make sandwiches to represent Cosmic Frontier characters (you know Gus AND Camila happily assisted him.) And that's my headcanon. A boy, his best friend, and a type of food that brought them closer and possibly even saved a life in more than one sense. In this house, we respect the Sandwich Bros. (Tagging @childlikegoblinqueen, @unniebeans, and @probablyhuntersmom, who I assume have also had this headcanon infect their brain for some time. *evil laugh*)

[witchthewriter]

𝐇𝐨𝐠𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝

Like I did with the moral alignments, I thought I would make a post about why and how I sort characters into Hogwarts Houses! There are also quizzes so you can figure it out for yourself as well. I go into detail about each House, what they represent, their background and what it means to be sorted into a certain House. 

I hope you enjoy!

*just because I’m talking about Harry Potter doesn’t mean I align with the transphobic views of J.K. Rowling. There is no room for transphobia on my page, and I support the trans and LGBTQIA+ community*

Figuring out which Hogwarts House you belong to has been around since the HP series came out. But I think there’s more to it than simply choosing to be in ‘the brave house’ or ‘the smart house.’ I think it reveals a lot about a person - or rather, a large aspect. 

Here are a few tests for you to try, comment below what you got!

Test 1 (the ‘official’ Wizarding World quiz)

Test 2 (from IDRlabs, they have other personality quizzes as well!)

Test 3 (Here’s the full Pottermore quiz. The 1st quiz will only have a few questions, so that’s why I don’t think it’s fully accurate to take)

Test 4 (A really good one from Quotev, the questions/answers aren’t obvious)

Gryffindor: Do what is right. Hufflepuff: Do what is kind.  Ravenclaw: Do what is wise. Slytherin: Do what is necessary.

𝐆𝐑𝐘𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐑

“ Where dwell the brave at heart, their daring, nerve and chivalry set Gryffindors apart “

𝐸𝑙𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡: Fire

𝐹𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦: ‘Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor’, Godric Gryffindor. 

Dwelled at Godric’s Hollow

Was an accomplished dueller

A fair man, he believed that any child who displayed magical abilities before their 11th birthday should be able to attend Hogwarts.

Gryffindor was the original owner of the Sorting Hat

Gryffindor also had a sword made, which would present itself to any true Gryffindor in a moment of need.

He was allegedly the best friend of Slytherin before he left Hogwarts

Godric will always be known for his accomplished skills in battle, and his fight against Muggle discrimination in the wizarding world.

𝐸𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑖𝑠𝘩𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑡𝑠:

Courage

Bravery

Standing up for what you believe in - even if your voice shakes. 

Caring about the greater good 

Daring/Bold 

Having a deep need to do the right thing 

Standing out from the crowd

𝐶𝘩𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝐻𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑒:

Lucy Pevensie

Thor

Mulan

Katniss Everdeen

Merida

Batman/Bruce Wayne

Buffy Summers

Chandler Bing

𝐇𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐏𝐔𝐅𝐅

“ You might belong in Hufflepuff, Where they are just and loyal. Those patient Hufflepuffs are true. And unafraid of toil. “

𝐸𝑙𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡: Earth

𝐹𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦: ‘From valley broad,’ Helga Hufflepuff

A kind and warm woman who believed in loyalty, patience and hard-work as the best abilities a person can possess

Was a brilliant cook and had remarkable skills for preparing food. Her recipes are still used in Hogwarts to this day.

She brought the house-elves to Hogwarts

Owner of Hufflepuff’s Cup

She was the best friend of Rowena Ravenclaw

𝐸𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑖𝑠𝘩𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑡𝑠:

Loyalty

A need for justice. A lot of the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor traits are intertwined, but the difference is that Gryffindors don’t need to know a person to feel the need to look out for them. 

Patient 

Believe in fairness and equality (Helga Hufflepuff was the only founder who believed everyone should have a fair chance in being taught)

Accepting

Thinks about other people more than themselves

Would do anything at all, for family 

𝐶𝘩𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝐻𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑒:

Edmund Pevensie

Antman

Jay Gatsby

Okoye

Samwise Gamgee

Michael Scott

Alfred Pennyworth

Joey Tribbiani

Phoebe Buffay

𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐖

“ Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw, If you’ve a ready mind, Where those of wit and learning, Will always find their kind. “

𝐸𝑙𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡: Air

𝐹𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦: ‘From Glen,’ Rowena Ravenclaw

A sharp and intelligent woman

She wanted to make Hogwarts the finest wizarding school in the world, teaching only those with the highest intelligence 

Rowena wore a diadem that was said to grant wisdom to the wearer, however, Rowena’s own daughter grew jealous of her mother’s incredible intelligence. Helena Ravenclaw stole her mother’s diadem and ran away, a fact that Rowena kept hidden from her fellow founders even when she fell ill.

Wanting to see Helena before she died, Rowena sent a man to bring Helena home. Unfortunately, that man was the Bloody Baron, who was in love with Helena, and stabbed her in a rage when she refused to come home.

 After Helena was tragically killed, legend tells us that Rowena Ravenclaw died of a broken heart. 

She was the best friend of Helga Hufflepuff

𝐸𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑖𝑠𝘩𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑡𝑠:

Intelligence

Wisdom

Witty

Open-minded - don’t mix well with traditional, close-minded people. Ravenclaws see the big picture, they think about what things could be, rather than what things are. 

They think outside of the box, they don’t like being confined by rules or traditions. 

Unique 

Individualistic/Original

Actually very intuitive

𝐶𝘩𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝐻𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑒:

Susan Pevensie

Sherlock Holmes

Bruce Banner

James Bond

Annabeth Chase

Mary Poppins

Gandalf

Monica Geller

Ross Geller

𝐒𝐋𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍

“ Or perhaps in Slytherin, You’ll make your real friends. These cunning folk use any means to achieve their ends. “

𝐸𝑙𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡: Water

𝐹𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦: ‘From Fen’, Salazar Slytherin

He believed strongly that only wizards of pure blood 

This belief caused a big rift between the founders, especially Gryffindor, which led to the depature of Salazar 

Despite his flaws, Salazar was a talented wizard, skilled in Legilemency and Parseltongue

Before he left, however, he created the Chamber of Secrets

𝐸𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑖𝑠𝘩𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑡𝑠:

Ambition

Determination

Cunning

Traditional

Strategic

Willing to do whatever it takes to achieve their goals; even using others for their gain. 

Not all Slytherins use these traits for personal gain, however, because the founder was evil - doesn’t mean every Slytherin is. 

Resourceful

Cleverness

Family means a lot to them

Desires respect

𝐶𝘩𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝐻𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑒:

Peter Pevensie

Natasha Romanoff

Daenerys Targaryen

Lady MacBeth

Wednesday Addams

Selina Kyle/Catwoman 

Rachel Green

Harley Quinn

[thefallennightmare]

So I’ve been thinking a lot about Dom!noah and having a dom drop with reader after a rough session. Only if you’re comfortable writing this of course!

@thescarlettvvitch @mitchhbitch @missduffsblog @hayleylatour @sleepyomens @loeytuan98 @artificialbreezy @marvelousmal @bngurngheart @lma1986 @dsireland86 @wild-child-7747 @calleyx13 @illmakeyousaywow @jaded-and-hollow-souls @exitwoundsx @shayzillaaaa @lookwhatitcost @badomensls @princesspeach-00 @burning-outx @shadowseve @collective-heartbreak @klutzy-kay24 @sorrowsofsilence @sweetlittlekitsune @shilohrosechicken @itsafullmoon @toospooktocute @niicoleleigh @thatchickwiththecamera @hoe-for-daddywise @whenthesummerdies @cookiesupplier @concreteemo @thisbicc @sammyjoeee @pathion @flowery-mess @tashka

SMUT BELOW THE CUT!

"Are you alright, angel?" Noah questioned while brushing away the sweat-slicked hair from your face.

Your breathing was erratic and it felt like your heart was about to burst out of your chest.

There was a faraway look in your eyes as you continued to stare at the ceiling.

Noah gently turned your face so you had no choice but to look into his eyes.

"Are you alright?" He asked again.

With a lazy smile, you nodded. "That was so fucking good."

Even though Noah tried his best to smile, you could see the guilt in his eyes.

You two had just finished a rough sex session with him having you tied to all four posts of the bed, on your stomach. He had your ass poised in the air as he whipped it with a leather strap.

Your ass was red and didn't doubt you would have marks that would last for days but you didn't care.

You loved all of it.

The various bite marks down your back.

The dark hickeys on the inside of your thighs.

The faint choke marks from his fingers around your throat.

You asked for all of it and Noah knows how much it turns you on. He's never one to disappoint.

The fucking was fast and rough, his nails digging into the skin of your thighs and he spilled his cum all over your pussy, claiming it was his.

It was.

Only his.

But now that the sex-filled haze had passed, Noah took one look at your body and was filled with immediate regret.

"I didn't mean to go that far. If I hurt you, please-."

You hushed his worries with a soft kiss to his already kissed bruised lips.

"I'm fine, love. It might hurt to sit and walk for a few days but trust me, it'll be worth it."

Even with your words, he still felt guilty.

"You deserve to be treated like the angel you are."

Slowly you sat up in bed with him, holding his face still. "Noah, you do treat me like the angel I am. You are such a good, sweet, kind-hearted man. I love that about you. But I also love the dark side you let out during sex. I asked for it because I know I can take it."

His eyes were still dull with his worry but eventually he nodded. "I know. But I don't think this guilt is going to go away for a bit."

You ruffled the bangs away from his eyes. "I think we should take a long soak in the bath and watch Lord of The Rings after."

That brought a smile to his face. "Sounds good to me, angel."

[eemamminy-art]

You have turned me from a Zenos hater into a Zenos ambilaventer keep posting and you might manage to turn me into a Zenos lover

If you already hated him though is me drawing him really going to make that big of a difference? 😩 Like I know I give him a fat ass and extremely delicious nose in my artwork but now I feel compelled to give you my tedtalk on why I like zenos lmao

This is about to be really long and also contains spoilers for stormblood, shadowbringers, and endwalker

This might surprise you but I like Zenos for his characterization and storyline in the game itself! The fanart is just kind of a bonus. He's one of many examples in Stormblood of a character that is shaped by their experiences, though I think it's not told as successfully as it is for like, Fordola, Arenvald, or Yotsuyu, because a key part of his backstory was locked to a short story in a print-only book (which I think is out of print now). The most you see of it in the actual game is this blink and you miss it line from Lyse at the very end of 4.0:

(Dialog from the quest "Stormblood", patch 4.0)

What really, really appeals to me about Zenos though, is that he is the personification of depression and that really resonates with me. He has anything he could possibly want, he has accomplished a great many things, but he feels completely hollow inside. He's miserable. He slaughtered countless Domans including their leader and felt nothing, commanded to do it by his father because (as shown in that short story) he only ever was acknowledged to even exist to his father when he practiced violence. So it's a given now, that's what's expected of him and that's all his life is. He's completely desensitized.

He finds one thing that makes him feel alive, that is the warrior of light challenging him, and it becomes his sole focus. Nothing else matters but chasing that high, because every single other thing is a low. After being bested by the warrior of light for the very last time, faced with probably prison for his crimes, he decides to die by his own hand on that high note rather than go back to the drudgery and misery that is everything else.

It's why in endwalker he can be swayed to do something good at the very, very end. He doesn't have a moral compass because he was shaped into an attack dog by his father, he sees "righteousness" as an excuse for war. Because I mean, what else is Garlean propaganda but righteousness from their twisted perspective? He asks Jullus if he would be happier had he a good reason to kill so many garleans after killing his own father— he makes it plain that death is death and there is no justice or good or evil in his eyes. He did have a reason, and it was that his father's use of black rose would likely kill the warrior of light, the only person or thing that gave Zenos any joy in life. Later, it was that Fandaniel dangled the idea that the warrior of light would be attracted to the slaughter and would come running to stop him so he killed more people during the civil war after the emperor's death. But he doesn't need to say that that was why. The reason doesn't matter, he knows the action would not change no matter how it was justified. Even if it was a "good" reason, death is death.

(Dialog from the quest "The Time Between the Seconds", patch 4.0)

(Dialog from the quest "As the Heavens Burn", patch 6.0)

I often see people take Alisaie's part in that scene as her convincing him to be a better person but that's really not what happens. He knows if he takes that action that others perceive as good and helps to stop Endsinger, he could have that high again in facing the warrior of light one more time. He could find joy and meaning, even for a fleeting moment. Then once again end it all because he fears returning to the low monotony of life. It's all over his dialog, especially in Endwalker. The dialog at the very end where he asks the warrior of light if they feel fulfilled, I know is meant to be a bit more of a meta question toward the player themselves, but I'd like to think it's Zenos comparing how different his outlook is to the warrior of light's. The warrior of light has many things keeping them going, whereas Zenos is drowning in despair with only one bright spot that he is constantly chasing time and time again.

(Dialog from the quest "Friends Gathered", patch 6.0)

those three tiny lines can hold so much zenoswol yearning in them AAAAAAAAAAAAA I AM not well

I personally still feel like there was room for him to survive that and to be gently guided into more and more good and try to undo some of that conditioning but I think he might be too polarizing of a character for him to become a permanent ally in canon. Much as I would love to see that! I have to wonder if the mentions of him in the 6.X patches that bounced between positive and negative were testing the waters, but I will leave my tinfoil hat aside because this post is already WAY too long lmao

I understand why people dislike him: they think he enjoys murder because he does it without "a good reason", they don't like how obsessive he becomes toward the warrior of light who is an extension of the player themselves, they don't like that in Fandaniel's scheme in "in from the cold" Zenos is the one inhabiting the warrior of light's body. Totally get it, totally understand.

I'm just saying I see the complexity to him and I find it compelling. Just as I found the overwhelming grief and despair that motivated Nidhogg or Emet-selch or Elidibus to be compelling. I think what people miss though when you like an antagonist is that feeling empathy toward them means you don't feel empathy toward the people they harmed, or that you somehow agree with what they did. But really, I just love seeing these characters that are faced with such tragedy or misery that they start to lose sight of right and wrong. They're driven entirely by emotions. For a story where emotions are literally power, I think it's a really interesting angle to take with the antagonists of that story.

Man, where was I going with this? 😂 I just love Zenos... I don't think I will be convincing anyone to like him who doesn't already, and that's not at all my intent. I just thought I'd share my perspective a little bit after getting this ask!

[dbnightingale24]

React

A Stepcest love story about Jim

~~

~~

Because why not? I have a million other stories to update, so why not add another one to the list? I've been working on this story for a while, but I've been anxious to upload it. I've decided to go back to my old ways (for this story only) and not give you guys a novel. We're gonna do this bit by bit. I have more than enough to post the full story, but I know a good amount of people haven't seen it. As always, thank you to @fuckingbye for an amazing moodboard! I think the world of you, and I can't wait to hug you again, and cry entirely too much over life. ANYWHO, let's get started, shall we?

P.S. The playlist is going to be the same for this entire story. K, lets go!

Word Count: 3,514

Warnings: Swearing, Family Drama, Stepdaughter/Step Father interest, Drinking, Drinking Relapse, MINORS DNI, Emotional Cheating...I think that's it for now?

Song(s) That Inspired This Chapter: You're Turning Me Cruel Cause I'm Just Wanting You To React

Summary: You and and your Mother have never had the best relationship, but the both of you have always tried. However, when she invites you to stay, and you're met with the last surprise you were expecting, will any progress be made? Or will it just get worse? Catastrophically worse.

~~

I do not give permission/consent for my stories/works to get posted elsewhere. I do not condone this type of behavior/relationship, this is for entertainment purposes only.

~~

~~

Chapter 1

It wasn’t exactly exciting, going home for Summer Holiday, but the thought of getting your own place just feels too daunting . Yes, graduation is coming up soon, but with the cost of everything as it is, you’d much rather wait until you actually have to rent one. Yes, you’re Mother is the last person you want to spend any time with, but who knows? Maybe she finally got a handle on her drinking?

Yeah, that’s likely.

As you knock on her door, you shift nervously from foot to foot, and you don’t know why. It doesn’t matter that you two rarely talk, or rarely see each other, she’s still your Mother.

Whether she likes it or not.

“Hello,” a man greets with a soft smile once he opens the door.

Well, hello to you too.

“Hi, I’m looking for Y/M/N? Last I was told, she still lives here.”

“She does,” he laughs softly, standing aside to let you in, “she ran off to the store. She wanted to be back by the time you got here. She’s been anxious,” he confesses softly, closing the door. 

You give him a look over as you place your bags down, and you can’t help but marvel at how handsome he is. He has beautiful ocean blue eyes, a slender physique (but you can tell there’s some muscle there), black hair that’s starting to gray a bit that you just wanna run your hands through and, lastly, a gold band on his finger.

Pause. There’s no way...oh, fuck no.

“What’s your name?” you ask with a kind smile, though your mind is racing a million miles a minute. 

“Jim. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“That wouldn’t be because you’re married to my lovely Mother, is it?” you question, and he softly shakes his head.

“She wanted you to be here.”

“Oh, I bet she did,” you scoff, shaking your head. “I bet she fucking did. Do you want a drink? I want a drink.”

“She doesn’t keep booze-” “Oh yes she does, you just have to know where to look,” you smirk, making your way into the kitchen. “How long have you two been married?”

“About a year.”

“Well, God bless you,” you mutter, stomping around on the kitchen floor. “Oh, don’t tell me you’ve gone all saintlike on me now,” you scowl, before finally stomping on the hollow tile. “If there’s one person I know, it’s my Mother,” you scowl with a nod, before crouching down and picking at the at the worn tile. “So, how did you two lovebirds meet?”

“Maybe it would be best if she told you,” he mumbles as you pull up the tile on the floor. 

“I’m gonna level with ya, Jim. My Mother and I? Not the best relationship. So, whatever she says, I’m not gonna believe her. Hell, she’s been married a year and I’m just finding out about it. So,” you huff, standing on your feet once you’ve dug out the bottle of whiskey from the floor, and recovering the hole with the tile, “how’d you two meet?”

“At a bar,” he tells you, seemingly shocked that you actually did find a bottle. “Someone I used to see worked there. Her and I broke up and soon enough I started seeing your Mother.”

“I’m guessing things went well if you married her,” you mutter, grabbing two glasses.

Do you mean to turn her world upside down? No. However, it doesn’t change the fact that your world has been turned upside down, and you can’t help but be a little irritated by it.

Irritated by her.

“Do you have a drinking problem too?” you ask, pouring you both a drink, “don’t wanna mess up anyone’s progress or lack of,” you scoff.

You really don’t mean to be rude to the handsome man, this is just the last thing you expected.

“No, but-”

“Well, lets work on that,” you laugh humorlessly as you raise your glass to cheers him. 

Once again, it’s not the handsome stranger’s fault, but you’re also caught completely off guard.

“Has she cut down on drinking?” you ask, after taking a sip.

“She really hasn’t started drinking since she told me you were coming home for Holiday.”

“That makes an awful lot of sense. I handle her about as well as she handles me. She didn’t give you a warning?”

“She just said that things will be tense for a few days, but things will smooth out.”

“ ‘Things will smooth out’. Well, that’s one way of putting it. Well, Jim..Dad,” you scoff humorlessly, “I’m sorry you’re in the middle of this,” you mumble as the front door unlocks. 

“Honey, is she...oh,” your Mother sighs as he closes the door.

She’s more than likely seen the bags by the door. 

“I wanted to be here when you first got here, but I realized I forgot a few things at the market and had to...ah,” she mutters, taking note of both you and Jim drinking whiskey.

How the hell else did she think this was gonna go?

“I know what it looks like, but it’s not-”

“If you’d have told me, I would’ve gotten you a wedding gift,” you laugh as you raise a glass to her. 

“I didn’t want you to be mad.”

“You got married and this is the first time I’m hearing about it. What reaction did you think you were going to get?”

“I just knew you wouldn’t get it. I know we’ve been through a lot, but once you get to know him-”

“I don’t need a Father, Mum,” you shrug before finishing off your drink. “I’m not even trying to be a cunt. I’ve just gone all these years without one, and I’m a full grown adult now. I just would’ve appreciated a heads up,” you shrug before pouring yourself another glass. “I’ll be in my room if anyone needs me.”

You’re quick to grab your bags in the entry way, and finally make your way upstairs. You only make it three up three steps before an argument breaks out. You take a deep breath before continuing your way up the stairs. You know what’s coming, and you know it’s gonna last for the entirety of the Summer. God, if only you knew how much damage you’d truly done.

You would’ve never come home for the Summer.

**

“I don’t want to argue,” Jim sighs, clearly exasperated, “I just wish you would’ve told me! I’m coming into this looking like the bad guy.”

“Of course, make it all about you,” your Mother slurs and you roll your eyes.

They’ve been arguing since you’ve retreated to your old bedroom. You truly didn’t mean to start an argument between the two of them. Despite what your Mother believes, you do want her to be happy, but you’re just tired of her shit. At this point, it truly feels like she goes out of her way to make things complicated, and there’s no fucking reason for it. She always needs to paint someone else as the bad guy and, for as much as she may love Jim right now, she will make him the bad guy if she thinks it’ll workout better for her in the end. 

“Honey-”

“I’m meeting up with Rose. Don’t wait up,” she slurs as she storms out, slamming the door shut behind her.

Somewhere deep, deep, down inside, you do feel bad. However, it’s not bad enough for you to actually apologize to her. Yes, you’re used to her bullshit, but this? This is a new level of audacity, even for her. Not to mention, you do feel bad for Jim. You know absolutely nothing about the man, so he may be complete and total scum, but you do know she won him over with a personality built on lies. However, you truly didn’t mean to drag him into you and your Mother’s years and years of drama.

Which is why you’re now picking up your empty glass and making your way downstairs, taking a deep breath as you reach the last step.

Can’t hurt to get to know the man that’s apparently your new stepfather. 

“I’m sorry about that,” you greet as you make your way into the kitchen, taking a seat at the small table.

“It’s not your fault she kept things from me.”

“While that is true, I didn’t have to burst your bubble like that. You two had a life, and I just came in and made a mess of it. When it comes to my Mother, no one ever seems to make me as angry as she does.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her that angry before,” he laughs halfheartedly.

There’s an awkward silence, so you take the moment to pour the both of you a drink.

“She told me that you’re in your last year of Uni?”

“Yeah, so it’s about time for me to find my own place. The price of everything is just so damn high right now,” you sigh, finally looking over at him.

No, you’re not exactly a fan of your Mother going out and getting married without a word to you, but you have to commend her on her taste in men.

The man is gorgeous.

“You’re not wrong, I don’t know how your Mum was able to afford this place before I moved in.”

“Her parents. My grandparents kind of always took care of us, because shes always been a wild child and they never really trusted her to be able to make a stable living. When they died, they left her everything. Including this house,” you mumble, swirling the dark brown liquid around in your glass. “Lets table the talk about the crazy lady for a bit though,” you smirk and he chuckles, “tell me about yourself.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Is this your first go at marriage? What do you do for a living? Any kids? Fill me in on all the basic information I should know,” you shrug, cocking an eyebrow.

“I’ve got two kids, this is my second time being married, and I’m a writer.”

“Your second time getting married, and you chose my Mum? I’d really love to know how she won you over.”

“She loves does love you, Y/N.”

“In her own way, yes she does. However, you’ll come to find this Summer that, that love will drive you mad. You’ll find out just how strong your love is for her.”

“Well, what’s so wrong with you?”

“God, if I knew, I would tell you,” you laugh before taking another sip of your drink. “I think I just remind her of failure, which is fine by me, honestly. I learned to accept it early on, and we’ve both been better for it. I call her on Christmas and her birthday, and that’s enough. She calls when she remembers or when she’s drunk and sad, but I barely heard from her this past year and I assume that’s because of you. Thanks for that.”

“I’m sorry-”

“No, I genuinely mean that. You’ve made her happy and I appreciate that. I’ll try not to stay long-”

“She does want you here,” he interjects sincerely before taking a sip of his drink.

“Not as much as you’d think she would. You are her do-over, and I could easily ruin that for her. My best friend lives close by and I wasn’t gonna ask to stay with her, cause she has a daughter so space is limited, but I will. I know she’ll be more than happy to have me, and I miss her like crazy anyway.”

“I feel like I’ve done something wrong.”

You stand up and grab your glass and slowly make your way to the counter, “well, you shouldn’t because you’ve done nothin’ wrong. You can’t break or cause more damage to something you had no knowledge of. Have you eaten today?”

“Y/N-”

“It’s alright, Jim. You’re not breaking up some happy Mother/Daughter relationship,” you laugh softly. “Now, have you eaten?”

“I had a light lunch, your Mother said she wanted us all to have dinner together.”

“She has these ideas, and then she gets drunk. Lets see what we have,” you mutter, opening the fridge and bending over to see what your Mother picked up from the store.

You and Jim spend the next hour or getting to know each other as you bake some salmon, make some mashed potatoes, and steam a bit of broccoli. You make sure to make enough for your Mother, because you know by the time she gets back, she’ll be shitfaced and will need something in her stomach as soon as she wakes up tomorrow. 

“You and your Mother have two very different cooking styles,” Jim notices as he leans against the counter, his third glass of whiskey in his hand.

“My grandmother taught me how to cook,” you smile at the memory while taking the salmon out of the oven, opening the foil just a bit to check on it. “My Mother learned how to cook from me and then put her own twist on it.”

“What did your Mother teach you how to do?”

“Umm, I’m really good on skates because of her. That would be our thing on the weekend. She taught me that getting hurt is okay and apart of life, and that I shouldn’t ever fear pain from anything or anyone. That she was right about.”

“She truly was excited about you coming, Y/N.” “I don’t doubt it, but she and I...we’ve always had a difficult relationship. She never wanted to be a parent, and she got to play “big sis” until my grandparents died. I was 12 and she never grew into the roll of being a parent. I used to hate her for it, but I learned to accept it. She kept a roof over my head, food on the table, and attempted to show up to school events. She wants a friend, not a daughter. There’s a reason she never told me about you, can you pass me two plates?” you ask, turning the oven and the stove off. “You seem like a nice guy though, and that’s what she needs. She’s never had a good guy before.”

“What about your Dad?”

“I’ve seen him twice, and both times, he was a complete and total cock. Pardon my language,” you smirk as he laughs. “No, my Mum wasn’t all that great, but at least she stuck around and tried. He only came around for money, both times my grandparents told him no and Mum threatened to break his knee with that fire poker in the other room.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, he wasn’t a good man,” you shrug, starting to plate the food. 

“I feel like I should’ve helped.”

“You kept me company, and that’s just as good as helping,” you smile up at him.

“I should at least set up the table,” he offers, clearing his throat as he stands up right, taking the silverware out of the drawers.

“If you insist.”

“Can’t have you thinking too little of me so soon,” he teases and you scoff. 

“You get a pass for today, it’s been a rough one for you.”

You don’t notice the way his eyes travel over your body, and even if you had, you wouldn’t have thought anything of it. He’d had a few drinks and his day went from good to a headache. He wasn’t the first guy to look you over and he wouldn’t be the last.

While he poured more drinks, you grabbed two water bottles out of the fridge, before finally taking a seat across from him at the table. Once again, the conversation flowed effortlessly and, the more you both drank, the harder it got to remember that this man was married to your Mother.

He’s your stepfather. 

When dinner is done, he insists on doing the dishes.

“It’s no big deal-”

“I derailed your day a bit, it’s the least I can do,” he laughs softly as he starts washing off the plates.

“Alright, you have a job, you’re a good Father, you’re good looking...why didn’t your first marriage work out?” you question, leaning against the counter.

You don’t miss the heavy sigh or the way his movements faltered a bit before answering.

“I cheated on my wife with a family friend. She never found out that it was a friend, but it wasn’t hard for her to figure out that I’d been up to something I shouldn’t have been.”

“Ah, so you are capable of making a mistake.”

“You’re not mad at me?” he laughs softly.

“It’s not like you cheated on my Mum, besides, it’s not like her record is perfect.”

“No stern talking to?” he smirks towards you.

“I’m just getting to know you,” you laugh. “She clearly saw something in you and didn’t feel the need to consult me on it. If she trusts you, I’m gonna have to trust that she knows what she’s doing.”

“You are somethin’ else.”

“I get that a lot.”

For just a moment, as both gaze at each other, you forget that there’s a line you shouldn’t be crossing with this man. It was literally just discussed that he’s married to your Mother. That doesn’t seem to matter right now , though. Not when he’s fun, handsome, and looking at you like he wants to get to know every little thing about you.

Well, that is until your Mother comes stumbling through the front door. 

“Fuck!” she exclaims, crashing into the wall.

“I’ll handle it,” you mutter, quickly pushing yourself up from the counter.

You need to get away from him anyway.

“I hope you’re happy,” she slurs as you collect her. “He hates me and it’s your fault. Men always hate me because of you!”

“So happy to be staying here,” you mutter, kicking the door close as you help her stand upright.

“You ran your Father off, my other boyfriends-”

“Did ya eat tonight?”

“As if you give a fuck,” she scowls barely bothering to help you get her up the steps. “Jim is good man-”

“He’s done nothing but sing your praises all bloody night, he’s not goin’ anywhere. Now, stop being difficult and walk with me.”

“I can do it m’damn self!”

“As tempted as I am to let that happen, you’d break ya neck and I’d feel bad. Now, lets go.”

“Bitch.”

“I know,” you sigh.

Lacking both style and grace, you get her up the stairs and unceremoniously into the bed, helping her to get her shoes off as well as her shirt. By the time you pull the covers up over her, she’s snoring. You’re quick to get to the bathroom and fill up one of the disposable cups in there and grab two aspirin, before quickly and quietly making your way back into the bedroom and putting them down on her nightstand. Giving your small kiss on her temple, you quietly make your way out of the room and let out a deep breath. 

There’s no way you can stay here for the entire Summer.

With a look of pure pity written across his face, Jim asks, “are you okay?” once you’re back in the kitchen.

“Nothing I haven’t handled before,” you respond with a defeated smile. “I’ll be out of here by the time both of you are up.”

“Y/N-”

“She’ll be like this for the entire Summer if I stay, which will make the both of us miserable in return.”

“I can talk to her.”

“You’re sweet. I can see why she worked her magic on you.”

“Please-” “Thank you for doing the dishes and putting the food away. Don’t stay up too late,” you smile at him before getting on your tiptoes and giving him a small kiss on the cheek. “Good night, Jim. It was nice meeting you.”

You grab your phone off the table and make your way upstairs, laughing softly and shaking your head at your Mother’s snores which have grown much louder in the short amount of time it took you to get back upstairs. 

Plopping down on your bed with a heavy sigh, you unlock your phone and text the one person you can always count on.

Y/N: I’m sorry it’s so damn late, but would you be okay with me stayin’ with you for the Summer?

Cherry Bomb: Just put your goddaughter down. You know you’re always welcome here! Y/M/N being a cunt?

Y/N: I’ll tell you all about it in the mornin’. Love you and thank you.

Cherry Bomb: I should’ve been ya first stop ;) 

You laugh softly, placing your phone down on your nightstand and turning over to your side, doing your best to ignore the events of the day. You’re half asleep when you hear Jim make his up the stairs and join your Mother in the bedroom. 

‘Soon enough, all of this will be a distant memory,’ you think to yourself as you drift off to sleep.

If only that were true.

~~

[holylulusworld]

Ruined

Summary: She ruined him in any way.

Pairing: TFATW!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: post-smut, implied smut, angst, cheating, self-loathing, Bucky feels not worth being loved, written in Bucky's PoV

AN: Square filled for Navy and Roo’s slumber party presents bingo @the-slumberparty: Writer's choice - angst

She left me there to rot in my sins and filth. The sheets were still stained with my seed, her juices, and sweat.

A reminder that she was really here with me out of all the guys in this too-crowded city.

My chest still heaves, and I can’t feel my legs as I run my hand over the spot she occupied some hours ago. Now it’s empty, and I feel hollow.

She came over me like a force of nature and broke the walls I built around my heart as if it were nothing.

One day I bumped into her and spilled my coffee over her summer dress. A white dress, making her look like an angel.

Since that godforsaken day, I lost my heart to her little by little. Now it only belongs to her, but she doesn’t belong to me.

No. There is this wonderful guy she always talks about. The man whose face I never want to see. Her heart and body belong to him.

I’m just … I don’t know what I am to her.

To me, she’s my sun, moon, and stars. My whole world.

I only live when she’s around. And when she’s gone, I barely exist.

Maybe I must accept fate. I don’t deserve a woman loving me in my life. Not after I destroyed so many lives.

I sigh and turn around to look out of the window. I still don’t have curtains. The windows are naked, like my body.

I don’t know when she left. Maybe after I slipped out of her one last time? I feel bad for the man she lies to. And I feel bad for myself.

Closing my eyes, I curl into a ball to protect myself from sniffing at the sheets to catch her scent. Goddamn higher senses. I can smell her on me, even if I don’t want to.

If only I was strong enough to stay away from her. But she’s like the right kind of poison running through my veins. She wrecks my system and makes me forget who I really am.

A broken man. A monster. A killer.

The man Steve used to look up to is long gone. I’m an empty shell. Nothing else.

Of course, a woman like her would never want me for more than a night of passion. How could she? I’m not the kind of man you take home and introduce to your parents and friends.

I roll onto my back to stare up at the ceiling. There is no use in thinking about her right now. She’s gone and will spend the next days, weeks, or even months pretending she didn’t screw my brains out last night.

I sigh at the tumult going on in my mind. Restlessness is not a stranger to me.

Maybe I should admit my defeat and just let her go.

The atmosphere changes when I turn to my side. I can feel her before she even steps inside the room.

Confused I watch her enter my bedroom. Well, it’s barely a bedroom. Only a mattress on the ground and a lamp. I don’t even have a nightstand or a wardrobe.

“I got breakfast,” she softly says, looking unsure for the first time since we met. She wears one of my shirts and a pair of shorts. I don’t know where she was hiding the shorts because last night she wore a dress, and her favorite black heels. “Coffee too.”

“Coffee,” I choke out. “That’s…great.”

“I thought we could talk,” Y/N steps toward the mattress to sit next to me. “I-I…” she places the bag filled with delicious-smelling breakfast on the mattress. “I broke things up with him two months ago.”

Inhaling sharply, I jolt up on the mattress, taking her by surprise. She squeals, and giggles as I sit next to her. Still stark naked.

“Uh-good morning to little Bucky too,” her laughter fills my senses, and damn my rotten heart beats faster than it should. “Sir, you should cover yourself.”

“What? I—” I drop my eyes to my lap, and chuckle. She’s not wrong. Little Bucky goes commando every time she’s around. “Sorry.”

“I’m flattered, really,” she grins now. “What do you think? Not about your morning glory but…”

“You broke up with him,” I question, “and never told me so.”

“I was afraid that you would pull away when I’m…available,” Y/N bites her index finger, a habit I learned to love. “He didn’t take it well, but this can’t be helped. It wasn’t right to cheat on him, but I love you. God, I love you so much it hurts not having you close.”

“You should’ve told me you broke up with him. I don’t have much,” I look around my bedroom, sighing deeply. “But all I got is yours.”

She dips her head to look at me. Oh, I know that look. “If you offer your heart and little Bucky to me, I’m game…”

Y/N will end up underneath me for the rest of the day, breakfast and coffee long forgotten.

I still feel guilty for stealing another man’s woman, but the heart wants what it wants…

Part 2

Tags in reblog.

[sir-adamus]

this isn't directed at anyone specifically, as this is a sentiment i've seen a lot, but i think some people were expecting some kind of catharsis in regards to Neo being punished or just straight up dying in the volume 9 finale because they don't personally like and are therefore dismissive of the character; and then making claims that it was bad writing that she didn't get the shit kicked out of her and was then killed, but instead getting to bow out gracefully and taking the first step to improve on herself and find herself again (which, i have to say, is not a redemption, the claims of 'bad writing' always paint it as such which is weird to me - it's like, the start, at best)

and i've been seeing this sentiment for months and, from the perspective of someone who never really had an issue with the character and liked the way she was handled, every time i've always had the same question of like, is it bad? or do you just not like it? cos let's be real that's been a major, major problem in this fandom for years, and even the people who complain about it coming from the loud vocal minority are often guilty of similar behaviour, just in more 'acceptable' ways

there was this really good post i reblogged the other day, which i'll link here, which basically covers my general feelings on this in regards to media in general, but in specific regard to the show;

a) the main characters' priorities have never been on personal payback, and neither has the show's (which it makes a point with several times, with Yang and Blake giving Adam multiple opportunities to stop and just leave as just an example, which he doesn't take), so there's no reason for them to go after Neo when she's no longer a threat

b) by the time WBY would've had the opportunity to 'punish' Neo for everything she did, Neo was possessed, and in the aftermath of that, was no longer hostile to them because of the events leading up to her getting possessed in the first place

RWB/Y is a show with lots of thematic resonance, we see parallels and layers and one of the major themes in the show is grief, and how you handle it; in the Ever After, Neo serves as a microcosm of Salem - she lost the one positive (though ultimately co-dependent and not particularly healthy) relationship she had after a horrible childhood of isolation and instead of coming to terms with her grief, she dedicates herself to revenge (which was her characterisation click moment when she returned in volume 6, as that return actually gave her motivations and a goal, versus how she was in volumes 2 and 3, where she was just kinda there and didn't have all that much to her) and it consumes her, so when she actually does get that revenge she wanted, instead of there being any kind of catharsis, she's just left hollow and empty because she has nothing left, which leaves her open to getting possessed by the Cat

but after being freed from possession, Neo has no reason to keep fighting because of that prior realisation, and comes to the conclusion that she needs to move on, with the best opportunity to do so being letting the Tree help her. and this is what loops back to the post i linked; Neo is given the option to stop and change and she takes it

does it come too late? sure - but by the same note, better late than never. besides, the Ever After is a fairytale world where the normal rules don't apply, so 'late' isn't as damning as it would've been

[aurora-daily]

AURORA: "People Deserve Complicated Music"

AURORA's interview for Junkee by Ky Stewart (September 11th, 2024)

AURORA is a once-in-a-generation artist. Unrestrained by genre, her music always feels just outside our grasp. So, as might expect, our conversation was insightful, inquisitive, and filled with childlike wonder and joy.

I was scrolling through Tumblr the first time I heard an AURORA song. It was 2015, a year after she’d released her first album All My Demons Greeting Me as a Friend. The post was a clip from her music video for ‘Murder Song (5,4,3,2,1)’. It was dark and tender. I was captivated by how expressive she was. Just 18 years old, she already knew just the right spot to jab you and reach your soul.

So I jumped down the AURORA rabbit hole. I quickly fell in love with that album, discovering fan favourites like ‘Running With The Wolves’ and ‘Runaway’. She was truly a Tumblr darling and, as it turns out, had absolutely no idea that so many of us were posting her lyrics on random edgy backgrounds. “Oh my god, that's so sweet,” AURORA tells me. “I didn't know that. That's insane. I had no idea. That's really sweet, because I feel like the Tumblr community were always my kind of people. That's really nice. I'm gonna try to find some of those posts now.” (Unfortunately, most of Tumblr has been killed off but there’s still some dedicated AURORA fan pages kicking around on there. I hope she found them.)

A lot of us from Tumblr grew up with AURORA’s music. Her albums have been part of how I made sense of the world around me at various stages of my life. Her newest album What Happened To The Heart? is no different. At a time of incredible turbulence, I often find myself asking where our collective empathy has gone. Or if we ever had it in the first place. How can we watch other people suffering and do nothing about it? These questions are AURORA’s inspiration. “There's always quite a lot behind my albums and I think a lot about the world when I write,” AURORA says. “I try to think about what I feel is the purpose of my music, and what I feel the world deserves to hear. I felt it was time for a question, especially the question, what happened to the heart? I was thinking about it a lot, and I realised that I found this question to be very interesting and very important. I think I found the answer.” 

For AURORA, the answer lies in how society has been stripped of compassion. “I'm nervous about a lot of the problems in the world today [and] the general unfairness in how our resources are divided upon the people,” she says. “The general unfairness that some people are given a chance in this life and some people aren't, and how the world just lets that happen. We haven't figured out a way to lift each other up more because people like to be comfortable, which I understand. It's hard to give away our comfort. To try to lift up someone we haven't even met yet is a hard thing for humans to do.” 

She adds, “I think we can actually feel that something is a bit off with life on Earth. Because we are very disconnected and we have closed up on that spiritual side of being human. And it kind of worries me that I feel something is a bit hollow inside of us, and that's why I answer the question, what happened to the heart? Because something is a bit messed up with how we live now.”

What I’ve always appreciated about AURORA, beyond her ability to make ethereal music, is how politically vocal she is. AURORA’s music has always been rooted in people, in their stories, and in how they feel. She cares deeply about people’s pain and uses her music to fight back — or at the very least, help people feel heard. Recently, she dedicated her protest song ‘The Seed’ from her 2019 album A Different Kind Of Human (Step II) to “all the children of Palestine, Sudan, Congo, Yemen, and Syria”.

“There are so many people in the world now that listen more to people they look up to, rather than experts on the matters of the world,” AURORA says. “A lot of [these] people are idiots and they say so many strange things and lead people the wrong way, like Trump… It’s chaotic when famous people have opinions that people follow so blindly without taking the time to actually measure your words or find out where they come from. It really scares me. [But] if people look up to me, I'm going to do as much as I can to say things they deserve. I think music really helps me do that, because I don't have to be too blunt, I don't have to be too harsh, I don't have to speak about things in the world in the same way most people do. We like to gather people around a common enemy, or to divide people with fear and then rile them up. I think it's so cool to rile people up with something that is, in its roots, fuelled by love.”

In preparation for the interview, I watched AURORA’s old music videos — the ones she made before the world fell in love with her. The bio said “Aurora Aksnes is a 18-year-old girl from Bergen, Norway. She strives to write music that can inspire people, through idiosyncratic tales of struggle, love, and all that lies in between.” Ten years later and she’s still doing exactly that. To AURORA, music is a language we all speak so why wouldn’t you use it to try to help others? “I wanted [the album] to be a mirror,” she says. “To do a soft beginning, because the first song is very spiritual, and numb [where] you ignore the thing screaming inside of you to be seen. Then the album goes quite dark because we ignore our roots. It's in our nature to be caring and kind. We do so much for the people we love and it's so pure. So we know that we're capable of it. But when we ignore this nature, we grow bitter and sour and broken.”

What Happened To The Heart? is as enigmatic as AURORA is. The album opens with the delicate ‘Echo Of My Shadow’, then we slam into dance-pop songs like ‘Your Blood’ and ‘Do You Feel’ or the techno club offering ‘Starvation’. Songs to get your body moving and your heart pumping. But there’s also folk and soft-rock. No matter the genre, her voice pierces through you. This concoction of sounds makes perfect sense to AURORA. For her, the sound of a song is less important than its essence. “I don't really think much when I produce,” she says. “I just feel and I just do, because I don't really have any rules when I make the skin around the soul of my songs, as long as the soul of the song feels right, it can wear whatever clothes it wants. It will still be okay, which is a comforting thing, because it helps you to not be a perfectionist. That steals the joy of creating from yourself, which is easy to do in this world.”

AURORA’s eclectic sound makes sense when you consider her influences. “I grew up with a lot of Leonard Cohen, Joan Baez, and Bob Dylan,” she says. “Also grew up with Enya. She was my biggest inspiration when I started making music. I just realised the healing power of voices and how much I can do. ‘Runaway’, which is one of my biggest songs now, is just the voice. The whole song is just accompanied by my own voice, trying to become choirs around my leading vocals, so that's been a very important part of my production journey. I'm very into Cohen, his way of telling stories in music, which I've obviously been very inspired by, especially in the beginning with songs like ‘Little Boy In The Grass’ and ‘Murder Song’, which are very [big] storytelling songs. And Bob Dylan taught me that I could be political and say things about the world in a nice way or in a funny way or in a hard way, depending on what you want. So these people all taught me very important messages. [When] I grew up, I learned about heavy metal and the Chemical Brothers. I think my idea of a perfect song is a mix with the Chemical Brothers, weird sounds like Enya and a bit of metal and folk. That's kind of the essence of what I find beautiful.”

AURORA is deeply connected to the environment. She’s been a strong advocate for environmental rights in Norway and trying to help the global fight to stop the ever increasing impacts of climate change. All of this is evident when I ask if she’s excited to return to Australia for an upcoming tour. “Oh, honestly, I'm so excited,” she says. “I think Australia is one of my favourite places to tour. It's so beautiful. It has the adventurous, grandness, and largeness that I feel when I'm in America, but you're not like America at all. So it's large and adventurous, which is exciting when you're from Norway. But it's still so friendly, and I'm so in tune with a lot of the politics. I'm not so familiar with the current situation, but I like what you did with the gun laws and to prevent massive shootings. And the Indigenous peoples, I feel a lot of admiration for, and there’s a certain charge in the land in Australia that I cannot explain. It feels very spiritual there, and the nature feels like home. I know it's so different from home, that I feel so curious and excited, but it's still so like home that I feel safe and I understand what's going on. I don't know, I love Australia. I love being there. [The] people are so pretty as well. And the bugs. I love bugs. You have all the scary ones there, and it's so fun. I really am excited to be back. I hate that it's only like every second year. I wish I could come every year.”

It’s such a joy to experience an artist like AURORA. Her music is charged with so much life and energy. You find something new every time you listen to her songs. Something she’s tucked away in the corner for you to find. She makes music that forces you to stop and think about what’s being offered to you. And that’s exactly how she wants it. 

“I like making complicated albums because I have listeners who deserve complicated music,” AURORA says. “We're being served a lot of uncomplicated stuff, which can also be good, but if that's the only thing we get, I don't think it's good for our brains. People are very clever, and I think it's important to not underestimate them.” 

[petermorwood]

In reaction to this post, @irlactualwizard wrote:

This is beautiful. On the note about maces and the like, they're traditionally horseback weaponry. I'm unsure of the usefulness or practicality of a dagger tucked away in a weapon primarily used from 'higher ground' or where CQC wouldn't be common. I mean, fall off the horse, drop the mace and draw the saber or katar. Although, redundancy is what keeps humans alive. It does strike me as odd that they wouldn't have shoved an extra weapon in just for the niche.

That notion of dropping the mace then drawing something else with longer (or for really close quarters, shorter) reach is something which may well have happened, though not just because it was an exclusively cavalry weapon. All the other weapons were also used from horseback, and in one instance its original Indo-Persian name is pretty specific about equestrian origins.

The zaghnal, that wicked pick-axe thing...

(yup, there's a dagger...)

...has a European equivalent called a "horseman's pick" and supposedly copied from Ottoman weapons which would have been zaghnal-shaped; this one is Polish or Hungarian...

The hatchet-knife bhuj was - per Wikipedia, Bygone Blades and Oriental Arms - a popular weapon with the Gujarati and Sindhi cavalry, who also wore a distinctive style of full armour...

(yup, there's a dagger)

(This time there's a gun, and probably a dagger too because why not?)

Most conclusively, the proper name for Indo-Persian battleaxes is tabar / tabarzin, which means "saddle-axe".

These included some of the few real-life examples of double-headed battleaxes (with daggers, but of course...)

Though popular in fantasy art, IRL usual practice was to have an axe on one side and something different like a hammer or pick on the other side in case the axe wasn't effective enough against whatever kind of armour the opponent was wearing.

And of course even single-headed axes often had the usual dagger tucked away.

Here's yet another with a sword-hilt (also possibly a dagger) and a built-in matchlock gun...

And here's one where some warrior just couldn't make up his mind.

Here's a mace with a similar (khanda broadsword) hilt:

I took a close look at various mace-pics I've posted (here and here), something I should have done before, then searched further on-line, and I'm starting to think they had no daggers because mostly their hafts were solid rather than hollow...

Thanks go to @irlactualwizard for prompting me to track down an answer to my own question - though I'll be waiting for someone who knows far more about Indian weapons to correct me. :-P

Finally, here's a display case showing three more maces, a couple of the double- (here triple-) -bladed daggers called haladie, and a few examples of what Indian weaponsmiths could do with the basic concept of a sword blade...

...including making use of a European hilt, top row second left. Its blade may have been mounted on an Indian khanda or talwar hilt, which happened often enough to create a whole class of "firangi" (Frankish) swords.

There are many more pics on my blog and elsewhere. Once again, for fantasy edged-weapon inspirations, India is a great place to start...

:->

[fountian-of-youth]

Welcome to the fountian of youth project !

Here you will be meeting Entity/z- 013253 -

Case file here

Badges

Bad end file here

Mantis allo!

Timeline info

Ascended form

And appearance insert here

His room /kitchen area

This is a rp blog drama , action or friendly conversation are very much welcomed !!

Of course if you wish to talk to the doctor you can !

Dr. kraken , the founder of fountain of youth and one to have created the serum allo was injected with .

Insert image here

Case file here

Bad end file here

Ascended form

Rules

° you must be strictly 18+ to interact with this blog since it will dive into very serious and adult topics by that like murder , gore and trauma of any kind

° for the love of God pls keep things fucking sfw. I will not fucking stand straight up NSFW questions regarding pregnancy and weird fetishes

° joked are jokes but if I do much see another joke disguising a kink you are getting blocked , yes even evil gays have a line they won't draw and shockingly there a real person controlling this (I have cursed knowledge of forbidden things do not make me have a flash back )

° please don't control my OCS feelings or actions (unless your Melinda ) and generally be respectful cause they are my oc only I know their reaction

° I have a busy life so pls don't spam me with ask or tags , I'll reply in my own time but if I do forget pls do tag me or remind me in dm ! I'll try to respond as best I can

° I'm ok with hurting the two and trying to kill them since allo's immortal and kraken kinda a cyborg but don't go too far that or borders healthy obsession

° I don't mind fanart or art in ask! Pls send it helps me picture the interactions better

°other than that you're good to go ! If you want to discuss plots and ideas for our chats/rps dm me! I love to plot and go into character development!

Additional stuff

@creator-of-creativious is my other main blog where I'll post art or random posts not related/ related to this account

I'll be using hashtags to keep our rps in like of these : #fountainofyouthproject, allo, allo nanol , Dr. Kraken .

He will also talk in orange text so it be easy for you guys to read and spot while Dr. Kraken will have red text and white speech

I'll use your OCS and your username as tags as well so you can see it

With that over ask away !!

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

For allo

A kitchen hidden away and set in a more secretive part of the hadal back site. A hoodies figure is walking about sorting throughout items and spices seemingly absorbed into his work.

His hands are nimble and gentle when picking or setting and his tail and wings indicate he's isn't human anymore. Is he trustworthy ? Or is he an enemy ?

Do you approach?

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

For dr.kraken

He was stationed in his usual spot working away in the lab he pretty much claimed it for himself. He didn't like working with anyone and he certainly wouldn't like someone like you walking in to order him around .

His tendrils whipped about the room to grab what he needed gasping items or tools to get his work done. A sadistic glee shining in his eyes.

Do you choose to be civil ? Or snippy ?

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

Bad end allo

Shifting in the encloser of his cell a massive creature stared at the doorway that was the only access to the cramped space. Hollowed glowing eyes staring forward at the cursed opening. He didn't like being trapped . He hated it actually he wanted this to end - who was he ? That caught him off guard....who was he ??.....

He stopped thinking when he snapped his head and stared down at the person that dared enter the cell he was trapped in. A snarl ripping through his throat

(for mini bad end picture he was cat sized and your expendable / entity runs across him in the halls because he escaped )

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

Bad end Dr.kraken

You were running down the halls shaking and panting as the second breeched happen (your either a scientist or expandable ) shaking as nee entities or old ones captured were out again and causing havoc.

You turned and tried to run avoiding anything but stopped with wide eyes as before you stood a large albino like creature with a razor sharp smile.

Do you flee ? Or beg?

[separatist-apologist]

I just read an article in that guy who murdered two women. Absolutely horrifying. All the booktok crazies fawning over him reminds me of the women that would write letters to Ted Bundy while he was in prison.

I wasn't gonna answer this because I felt like I said what I needed to say and like, I was just preaching to preach but THEN while I was asleep, an anon came into my askbox to accuse me of not being a girls girl while intentionally missing my point. I blocked them before I thought of a good comeback (tragic) but like fellas is it anti-feminist not to stan a man who killed two women because (and this is so important to me) he hates women?

I'm gonna put the rest of this under a cut with a heavy trigger warning for domestic violence, I just want to say it and then I think I'm done talking about it because it's genuinely so disheartening.

Anyway, I think sometimes I get nervous to answer these kinds of asks because as a therapist I should know better than to speculate on people and what they're going through and whatever else, but as a person, its like...do you want to be picked that badly?

I think we all know by now that I work in DV and all the people fascinated with men like this fuck me up because like..."oooh what makes him tick, I want to talk to him, why did he do it-" and for me, I sit on the opposite end talking to survivors of violence asking the same questions with hollow eyes, with shaking hands, with safety plans meant to buy them just enough time to get out of their house so they aren't killed. I still think about some of the people I spoke with who didn't survive it.

When I was in grad school, I took a summer internship at the local DV court helping survivors with orders of protection. The system was set up better than a lot of other courts, but its still the legal system, you know? With all its flaws. My job was to flag for lethality based on what I was reading in the OPs and then reach out directly to survivors to help them navigate the process, connect them with resources, and sit with them in court. And I still remember this one particular woman who's situation was so desperately dangerous. We did a safety plan- and at that level, a safety plan isn't like, "remember to take your keys and wallet with you when you go", its "don't go into the basement or bathroom if he's in the house with you because there are too many hard surfaces, exposed pipes, and basins of water that making killing you easier. Go to a bedroom or closet because strangling a person is really hard and takes time," like THAT kind of safety plan. Anyway she thanked me, I remember this so well, she said thank you and I told her I'd call her the next week with an update and over the weekend he bludgeoned her to death.

And I guess I just don't think there is anything fascinating, interesting, or otherwise unique to men like this (obligatory yes I know women kill/abuse too). They're everywhere. I saw another post about how some podcaster is trying to get him on to talk to that guy and its like, why don't you just call up one of your friends' exes. Like. If you've got more than one female friend, you've probably got a friend who has experienced violence at the hand of a male partner, call him. Talk to him. Ask him why he did it, let him give you his made up story about trauma and sadness and oh life is hard because whatever whatever.

That's my thing. Books, movies, tv- they're not making people like this, and I'm not condemning people for what they enjoy in fantasy spaces. I am condemning it when you bring it out of those spaces and side against the women who were violently murdered because, and this is so important to me (did I say this already??), he HATES women. You are not special. You cannot fix him. He's not smart, or interesting, or fascinating and the having an attractive face is literally just chance and not something inherently moral.

And like, lastly, when you prop these men up and give them a platform, you signal to EVERY man just like him that there is something special and tragic about him. You let him play the victim, you let him rewrite the narrative, you shift the blame of his actions off of him and onto the people he hurt. Like with this particular man, you also side with a white supremacist so what are you saying to all your BIPOC/Jewish friends/mutuals, you know?

Anyway. That's my self-righteous rant, I guess.

[factual-fantasy]

I HAS 25 ASK :}}}}}🍤

@nihilityart Thank you! And,

@cherrycreamfairy

I am now! Some kind of ice and fire guys? They look neat :}}

For me clothed VS unclothed is the same as Civilized VS uncivilized. Or perhaps Intelligent VS unintelligent..? Captain Barnacles VS a salmon. The very humanoid Captain polar bear is gonna wear clothes and the lil fish guy just gonna swim around and be a fish XD

@beryl-shade

I'm thinking that the Cupcake Factory and Mazercise were never built following Chica's decommission.. the only thing that remains of her is the small party stage her and Freddy used to preform on. :(

Proud :}

Well, my Jevil gains the power create mirrors and walk through them into other AUs and timelines. So maybe his power matches up?? I'm not familiar with that Kefka character <XD

Glamrock Foxy still suffers from baby disease XD He may be bigger then Chica and Freddy, but they can still push him around fairly easily.

I also imagine becuase he's so light he can easily be picked up by the other Glamrocks. Poor Foxy can never catch a break XDD

Also Swap Foxy would never pick up OG Foxy. He couldn't do that to him man he knows the pain all too well <XD

Freddy would be really sad seeing Bonnie like that. He doesn't even have to ask anyone what's up with him. He knows that Bonnie cant handle constant activity, noise and lights. He's just not programmed with that kind of processing power. After every performance back in the day, Freddy was the first one check on Bonnie and get him to his room if he was wiped out.

And he was always the last to speak with him after he emerged from his room. Waiting for Bonnie to talk to him first when he was ready.

Seeing him like this now.. so.. hollow. It just breaks his heart. He can tell just by looking at him that no one has treated Bonnie right or attended to his needs in any way. For years. He wouldn't take any of Bonnies rudeness or sarcasm personally. It would bounce right off him because he knows why Bonnie is saying those things and he means none of it.

If Glamrock Freddy was in the swap AU, he would completely leave Bonnie alone. He wouldn't talk to him or address him in anyway. Buuuut maybe he would hover nearby. To be there to give Bonnie an escape from any given situation or if he happens to need someone or something, Freddy would be there to help.

But still. Never talk to him or look at him. Bonnie doesn't need any more things to process.. :(

Thanks for ask! Don't be shy to send more, I love getting them! :DD

As for the perfect sandwich? Oooo that's a good question. Uhhmmmm.... hmm.. Well, tbh I'm kind'a craving a cursed PB&J with cheetos in the middle ngl..

Oh! Or maybe a sandwich with toasted bread and some mayo, turkey, Ham and cheese?? Its kind'a basic but man does that sound good right about now XD

@ocinstituterep

I imagine it works much like the show/real boy scouts. There's not really any major changes I can think of..

I mean, I guess in my AU Professor Natquik was probably the main polar scout leader- or maybe even the founder of the polar scouts?? Or at the very least he could have been a beloved polar scout leader for like.. 20-30 years or something before he dipped and went to the Antarctic. That's all I can think of <XD

@youlikwjazz004

Thank you! I'm having a ton of fun drawing this Deltarune stuff so far! I'm doing a ton of world building on it and I have another set of drawings to post right after this ask post goes up! :}}

As for Jevil's lore, I made this post that talks about his lore thus far. But the post I'm going to make after this kind'a overwrites that so be on the look out XD

They grew up on the Octopod yes. And I don't think its a thing of child labor XD I imagine that all the Octonauts can cook for themselves. The Vegimals are just very eager to help out and they love to cook! Its become their way of helping out around the ship because they want to help. But they can stop when ever- no one is forcing them to be their cooks or even live there. They can leave when ever they want! But they choose not to because they love the crew and they love to cook!

Actually, google says that Barnacles is from Northern Canada. Something about a decorative banner he has labeled "MV Manitoba", which is a reference to the province of Manitoba..?

Which I guess if he is from Northern Canada, that banner and wheel is the only Canadian thing he brought to the Octopod.? XD

Thank you so much!! :DDD

@nervousdiplomatpalacehorse

YOOO I JUST WATCHED THE TEASER FOR IT!! THATS SO COOL??? I'M EXCITED NOW THAT I KNOW ABOUT IT XDD

And King Resh you say? Ooooo, I like that name :00 And yeah, boy his design sure is spooky <XDD

@ariisonfire (Post in question)

SKKJDKJSFKJ SORRY! That probably didn't feel great-- <XD But don't worry I had no idea your character existed when I made blue Grillby so I'm not copying! XD

@octonauts16

I've seen that floating around. I don't have much of an opinion on it myself. I just hope the fans are satisfied with it :0

@shaziztrazh

I have actually! I watched Elvis the Alien review it on YouTube XDD

WAAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH THATS SO SWEET WAAAA💖😭✨🍤💖 As for your questions!!-- XDD

1: In the partial swap with Gregory.. I imagine there was a moment like in the classic AU where Monty and Foxy sat down with Chica and told her that Freddy was gone. She probably got some old posters and pointed Freddy out to Gregory. Eventually communicating that she wanted to look for him. In which, they would find him all beat up..

In the true swap, with little Vanessa, I imagine its the same thing. Despite Bonnie taking the place of Freddy, its still Monty and Foxy that sit down and explain Freddy's disappearance. In which again, Chica points out Freddy in the posters to Vanessa and they go find him.

2: I believe in both the Partial and true swap, Freddy and Chica's decommissions happened the same way/for the same reasons as Foxy and Bonnie in the Classic AU.

3: Fazer blast doesn't actually exist in the partial or true swap. In the classic AU Freddy and Chica's attraction was just the main stage and party area. And Bonnie had the Bowling ally and Foxy had Pirates cove.

When the Glamrock era began, Bonnie bowl and Pirates cove were left untouched. Meanwhile Freddy and Chica's roles expanded and they were given Fazer Blast and Mazercise.

In the true and partial swap, that stage and party area are just kind'a.. left there. Maybe sometimes big party's happen and one of the bots come and preform on that old stage.? But mostly the giant stage is used and that old party stage is left to collect dust. Which is a blessing in disguise. I cant imagine the pain the bots would feel preforming on that stage where their friends once stood..

As for Bonnie bowl, yeah it was expanded big time. And is way more decked out than it was before. As for the Pizzaplex its name is still the same. But I imagine the logo looks a bit different :0

@tisgoodthe1st

Thank you so much!! :DDD

@montygatorshusband

I mean, personally? I don't really like it but that's just because I don't ship Fronnie. But hey its not my artwork so its not really any of my business-

@awoogic

Huh? What about him? Looks like he's from tiktok.?

Thank you! And that would be something that would shock the classic Glamrocks. Swap Freddy is in significantly worse shape than Classic Bonnie.. (which was intentional ;}})

Freddy would be rather disturbed seeing his old model so messed up. Considering how much he misses the past and his old body.. seeing an eye hanging out, his arm broken- his leg twisted in the wrong direction.. ehg, it would really freak him out. He'd have a hard time looking at himself..

Chica seeing her old self would disturb her, but also make her jealous somewhat.?? My Chica doesn't like being a Glamrock and misses her old body and role on stage. So seeing herself back in her pink dress and soft yellow feathers.. despite the removal of her beak and hands she'd be weirdly envious.

Monty and Roxy wouldn't have any unique or interesting reactions. They'd just be like "wow you guys look janked up I'm so sorry" XD

This post I made a while back talks about that! :00

(post in question)

XD Yeah. Eventually his fur grew out and he trimmed all the green back. But it sure was funny while it was there!