#but nowhere near enough for the colleges and subjects i want

[starsandwriting]

Aah man applying to colleges and it has just completely ruined my mood

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

How was catsitting Lucius? *This happens in glomas if you forgot!*

Omg yeah 😭 Crewel had to watch Lucius while Trein chaperoned the students and dealt with the fire lotuses—

If he doesn’t scare you, no evil thing will.

Displeasure flickered across Crewel’s face, as speedy and as sudden as a gaggle of puppies leaving muddy marks all over a clean rug. He openly pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned.

“Lucius was a handful, even for a diligent trainer and master like myself. Of course, a familiar is not on the same level as a mere pet. Familiars are intelligent, prideful creatures with their own thoughts, wants, and agency separate of their masters. A distinction must be made between how one treats a pet versus a familiar.

"That being said!! The simple act of bringing him home to my apartment was a hassle! His claws came out and threatened to tear apart my leather car seats!

"The problem failed to correct itself by the time we arrived at our destination... Lucius saw it fit to cling to my furniture and the works of art on display. I had to remove him without risking any damage to my possessions!

"Trein-sensei has truly spoiled him. Stay, come here... He refused to listen to a single one of my commands, even turned his nose up at the fancy canned tuna I offered for dinner!

"The worst of it was Lucius's refusal to take a bath. I had to discard my coat and stealthily capture the miscreant!! He struggled every moment of it, kicking up water and suds and flooding my bathroom.

“And what do you suppose Lucius did at the end of all that? He proceeds to curl up and fall asleep right on top of my fur coat!”

You pictured a grumpy Crewel, expensive tailored clothes soaking from the aftermath of the Bath War. He tiredly padded into his living room with a towel and came upon a bundle of fur napping peacefully in a spotlight of sun. Then, in your mind’s eye, he leaned against the doorframe with a lopsided smile and a sigh.

“… What a bad boy.”

The scene was all too comical, it was difficult to suppress a giggle. Your teacher didn’t seem to notice, too swept up in his own recollections.

"Tch, this is why cats are so…” Crewel stopped himself short, forcing down his bubbling annoyance. “Dogs are clearly the superior companion animal! Trein-sensei is so ignorant as to not recognize that, no matter how often we clash on the subject.”

“You don’t like cats, but you still agreed to look after Lucius in Trein-sensei’s absence,” you pointed out, "which I'm sure is greatly appreciated."

You carefully eyed him.

Despite what he says… Crewel-sensei actually cares a lot about everyone, doesn’t he?

"Hmph, perhaps next time Trein-sensei is predisposed he should find a familiarsitter that is more aligned with his incorrect opinions."

He shook his head vigorously, as if he were a dog dispelling water from his fur.

“But enough about that, tell me about Noble Bell College and the City of Flowers. Surely the trip was nowhere near as eventful as my time with Lucius here.”

You laughed nervously. "Ahahah... Weeeell, y'see, how do I put this…”

[bmodiwrites]

I Can't Get No Relief

Hi friends! This is my contribution for day 1 of Steddie Week! @steddie-week is hosting this awesome event & I'm stoked to take part. I smooshed together all three of the prompts. There's tons of pining, some hunger, and a lot of Queen's Somebody To Love all mixed in. You can read it below or over on AO3. There are some naughty bits, so minors, don't do the thing. Here's hoping you guys enjoy! Happy Steddie Week, loves <3

Sweat dripping down his neck, Steve contemplates the merits of summer. Despite the stickiness and insufferable heat, Steve loves the season. When he was younger, summer meant swim team with friends and never ending nights doing whatever the hell he wanted. Steve’s memories are vivid and strong of the May, June, July, and Augusts of the past.

As an adult, summer is still something Steve looks forward to. After he graduated, Steve immediately took to work. Without getting into college or having any prospects, a summer job was his only option. Now that he’s survived Vecna again and lived to see the bright, shining sun, Steve is even more grateful for summer and all it promises to bring.

This year, those promises revolve around a group of kids eager and willing to make up for the time spent trying to stay alive. While most others their age were worrying over books and dates, Steve’s flock of kids fought for their lives. Now, everyone is desperate to have something normal in their lives and an amazing summer vacation is exactly that.

Steve’s house, like usual, is the spot that everyone has decided to meet up and congregate. Aside from Steve being there (which is something EVERYONE loves), a pool, hot tub, and screened in porch invite the sort of afternoons and evenings only seen in the movies. From the second the kids are out of school for the year, Steve sees each of them almost every day.

Never mind the fact that both Robin and Eddie are pretty big fans of Steve’s digs, too. The older humans of the bunch are just as enamored with the freedom to lay out in the sun during the day and party at night once all the kids have gone home. Steve’s parents never being around always sat wrong with him but their absence is starting to really pay off. An empty house to invite his real family to is worth that abandoned feeling.

In every way, shape, and form, Steve is abundantly happy that it’s summer.

Except, there is one thing that’s been driving him crazy.

Eddie Munson, who is both a good friend and someone that Steve wishes to be something more, has an infuriating habit of wearing crop tops out in the heat. The shirts are just short enough for the happy trail Steve’s been pining over for ages to play peek-a-boo with the rest of the world. Any time Eddie lifts his arms up, Steve gets the pleasure of seeing that dark hair coating Eddie’s admittedly pale skin. Not to mention his arms in those damn shirts.

Despite never being an athlete or deigning physical activity as a justifiable activity to partake in, Eddie’s arms are lean and cut. Both biceps curve into something that shouts weight lifter, regardless of the truth. Steve knows a lot of that comes from playing guitar manically like Eddie is known to do. Though, genetics probably plays a pretty decent role in the perpetual tease Steve must subject himself to. Whatever’s the cause, Steve is done in and eager for those strong arms to be around him.

It's not just the crop tops, either. Eddie’s mere presence at Steve’s house all the time is driving him absolutely insane. Eddie is always so close, near enough, at least, for Steve to smell the coconut of his sunscreen and taunt him with it. Steve so desperately wants to simply reach out and touch, to bridge the gap being Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington creates between himself and everyone else simply on principle. Especially Eddie. Steve wants Eddie with the sort of throbbing need that’s hard to control.

No matter how much Steve craves and wishes and hopes, resolution is nowhere on the horizon. While they are friends and getting closer the more time they spend together, Eddie still keeps a small sliver of distance between them, almost as if he’s aware of Steve’s craving. Even if it’s subconscious recognition. The very apparent separation makes Steve think that Eddie isn’t interesting in the type of closeness that is in the forefront of Steve’s mind.

Which, after so much time struggling to stay alive and recover from all the trauma, is sort of a bummer. Steve has long accepted his bisexuality – the girls of Hawkins haven’t been enough for him since Nancy broke his heart (honestly, maybe even before that). No one makes his heart thump against his chest the way Eddie does. Not Nancy anymore, or Robin. Steve’s completely focused on curly brown hair and eyes like chocolate. It’s infuriating and embarrassing and the slightest bit of a turn on for his desires to be so obviously ignored.

Still, Steve is man enough to know when his advances aren’t reciprocated. Without friendship, Steve would be nowhere, so he’s plenty happy with their relationship the way it is. At least, happy enough to continue to want to have Eddie in his life whatever way possible.

No matter what, though, Steve wants Eddie. He just does.

----

Up until living with Wayne, Eddie hated the summer. The long months with his father right down the hall still haunt him. Locking himself up in his room to avoid the danger of a drunken father sit in the halls of his memories, tainting the freedom most kids experience during that time of the year.

Wayne, despite being bottled up and a little hard around the edges, went out of his way to make Eddie’s time off of school something a bit more enjoyable than the years before. Eddie’s first vacation is in ninth grade when Wayne took him to see the grand canyon. Though the final showing was boring and lacked the impact Wayne was hoping for, Eddie is still happy for the effort.

He’s never been a fan of the heat, either. His skin is the type that gets red and peachy when the sun hits it, but he burns easily, too. It’s hard to exist during the summer months in a leather jacket and jeans. It’s not until Eddie is scarred up and broken that he finds himself not caring about sunburn or visibly sweating too much for others to see. He’s got friends now that accept him exactly how he is. What more can a guy ask for?

The real answer to that question is Steve Harrington’s love and affection. But that’s a long shot by far.

Despite himself, Eddie is head over heels in lust with Hawkins’s resident ladies’ man. He can’t help it – he’s only a man that’s got eyes and a libido that’s never been all that satisfied. Being openly gay in a town that actually hates him isn’t an option. Hell, being gay at all in this day and age isn’t very smart or safe or easy – it’s just not worth it. Eddie, regardless of what people think of him, isn’t stupid. At least, not to the point of getting his ass kicked by the straightest man on the planet.

Instead of dipping his toe in the water and trying to figure out a way to get what he wants, Eddie watches from afar. Since the group is always at Steve’s house, Eddie can’t escape the slowly blossoming obsession he’s got with Steve shirtless and in a swim suit. He’s a gorgeous man and Eddie is weak enough to walk to the far side of the pool just to take in a glimpse of what Steve so deliciously puts on display without being noticed. Sure, it isolates him from the group a little but the view is well worth the small distance he’s creating between himself and friends he calls family.

It's just that Steve is the type of infuriating Eddie loves to hate. He proudly puts his scars on display for everyone to see. And despite their lack of aesthetic, Eddie is drawn to that sort of confidence. Steve doesn’t blink an eye when the kids jump into the pool and water splashes around them – he simply whips his shirt up and off and follows along. He’s not self-conscious or upset about the dirty way the demobats did him in. The puffy redness shows off his strength and Eddie is absolutely a fan.

Too bad Steve Harrington is as straight as an arrow.

----

Something needs to change for Steve. He’s going absolutely crazy.

As he fists his cock for the second time that day, Steve’s brain is running haywire. He can’t get any relief, despite the fact that he’s masturbating furiously. While the touch is amazing, each one sending jolts of exquisite pleasure to Steve’s very core, it’s not enough. Nothing is ever enough now that Steve’s entire being is tuned to Eddie and the pavlovian reaction the smallest hint of skin causes within him.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Steve slows down a little in hopes of finding his bearings and finally getting off. If he forces his thoughts to focus on the pleasure, he can get himself up and over the edge. Usually. Instead of picking the pace back up, Steve squeezes his eyes shut and dredges up his favorite masturbatory memory at the moment.

The previous week, Eddie decided he was warm enough to actually shed the crop top and jump into the pool. His hair is tied back in Steve’s fantasy because that long neck is a transcending thing to see and he’s in control here. As Eddie hit the water, the pants on Steve’s hips tightened and the game shifted. Now, he recalls the way the water sleuthed around Eddie’s pale skin, how, when he came gasping back to the top, his chest heaved and hands rose to sweep hair from his face.

Steve gives into the desire to let the version of himself playing out this intense want to jump into the pool, too. He splashes Eddie when his body hits the water, starting a water fight that’s fun and exciting, like being so very young again. It also quickly progresses into the two of them play wrestling in the water, splashes forgotten. Despite the fact that almost everyone was around that day, Steve’s pool is empty now. It’s just the two of them getting closer and closer, practically sharing the same air.

What was the exchange of large splashes and delirious cackles easily transforms into sharp panted breaths and the press of lip against lip. Though he’s never tasted Eddie for real, Steve is certain the lingering sweetness of Mountain Dew is on Eddie’s tongue. Like the starving man he is, Steve drinks in that elixir of the gods, happy to just be given the chance to enjoy such a thing. Without the scene changing, Steve wraps both arms around Eddie’s waist to pull him close. They’re treading water in the pool, working hard to stay together and not lose a single heated touch.

Soon, Steve’s mind shifts to a point in this fantastical connection that has them tied together, cock to cock. Steve’s hand is wrapped around both their lengths, his fingers tight. Their swimsuits are nowhere to be found and Eddie’s naked body is pressed against Steve’s, leaving not even an inch between them. Hidden away in the back corner of the pool, Steve and Eddie writhe and wiggle against each other the best way they can while the water creates waves and shifts around them. It’s okay, though – Steve loves the way fantasy Eddie clings to his shoulders to keep him close.

As precum beads across the tip of Steve’s cock in real life, Steve uses the sticky fluid to make his movements easier. Both in reality and in his fantasy, Steve’s hand moves a little better now that there’s something to ease the friction. For once, the sense of dissatisfaction is washed away by the power of Steve’s imagination. Instead of shying away from the rightness of this feeling, Steve gives into it. He clings tightly to this scenario his brain has allowed to come to fruition.

He’s about to get off pleasurably after many failed attempts to satiate his needs and Steve’s ready for it, consequences be damned.

The one mistake Steve makes is doing so with people still at his house. The kids are waiting to be picked up and Robin and Eddie are waiting for Steve to come back down after his shower so the night can truly start. He’s being risky with this behavior but there’s nothing that Steve can really do about it. His body wants and there’s only so much a person can take. Desperation, at some point, always wins.

Reality doesn’t creep back into Steve’s mind until he’s cumming across his fist and chest, spluttering Eddie’s name time and time again. He’s panting the two syllables like a prayer, practically calling the other boy into the room.

----

Frustrated and still consistently feeling the prickle of being on edge because of Steve’s mere presence throughout the day, Eddie is impatiently waiting for Steve to return to the living room. It’s torture to constantly be surrounded by Steve’s stuff, made even worse by the fact that he can’t openly snoop with Robin sitting next to him on the couch. Instead of enduring the madness, Eddie gets up from his seat and makes an excuse to head up the stairs to sniff Steve out. If he’s going to spend hours doing his hair, Eddie wants to know – there are beers he can go and get or a joint he can roll to distract himself from the lingering thought of Steve Harrington, alone and naked in the shower.

He's halfway to his destination when Eddie hears his name being called. For a second, Eddie thinks it’s a fluke but the repetition of his name is truly hard to miss. His skin prickles as the thought of danger starts to trickle in. Eddie is always on high alert now and the desperate tone of Steve’s voice makes his heart race with worry. There’s no thought given to busting through Steve��s door in hopes of providing the assistance Steve so obviously seems to need.

Of course, the rules of the civilized world come crashing back to Eddie a moment too late. Without knocking or even thinking to do so, Eddie bursts through Steve’s door,  his chest heaving. It takes a long moment for him to understand what he’s seeing as he enters the room.

Steve, despite the panted way he’s been calling Eddie’s name, is not in any danger. In fact, Eddie notices that he’s enjoying himself a whole lot, thoughts of the Upside Down nowhere to be found. A beautiful cock is out in the air, completely exposed and covered with what Eddie can only assume is Steve’s own cum. It’s delightfully red and still hard, though that quickly changes when Steve notices him standing in the doorway.

Covered in jizz and caught in the act, Steve still looks absolutely perfect.

Eddie is so caught up in the vision before him that it takes Steve shouting his name again to balance the scales. Blinking, Eddie tries to take a step back but the closed door stops him. His eyes are wide and there’s a lingering feeling sitting in the back of his mind. It takes an embarrassingly long time for words to form.

“You were saying my name?” Eddie mutters, his voice questioning. He tries again, hoping for a bit more confidence this time around. “Steve, you were saying my name. While masturbating? Am I missing something?” Eddie asks in one breath, desperately trying to get all the words out before Steve the jock forgets about his big gay fantasy and decides to take a swing. No matter how hot it is that Steve might be thinking about him while he jerks off, Eddie is not prepared for the beating he could possibly take.

Though, Steve surprises him. Instead of launching himself off the bed to punch Eddie in the face, Steve wipes his still cum-covered hand on the sheets, huffing in a large breath. There’s a second of silence and then Steve nods, his face coloring a shade of red Eddie isn’t all that sure has ever existed before.

“Yes. Yeah, Eddie. I was. You’ve been driving me crazy and I can’t take it anymore.” As the words come out of his mouth, Steve gets up from the bed and closes the space between them.

Before Eddie can think or breath or even make a move, Steve is on him. Both hands cup Eddie’s cheeks and they’re kissing like that’s what they’re meant to be doing with each other. And maybe it is because it feels so damn right. Eddie doesn’t question his good fortune, not when he’s finally getting the one thing he’s wanted since Steve Harrington walked into his life.

----

Aside from feeling mortified that Eddie is the person that walks into his room, Steve is slightly excited by the prospect, too. Now that the cat is out of the bag, there are only a few ways things can go. When Eddie doesn’t turn tail and run out of the room, Steve takes a chance. He admits his feelings and makes a move that can’t be ignored.

Eddie, thankfully, leans into the touch when Steve grabs his cheeks to pull him close. Without any sign of hesitation or fear, Steve leans in and finally gets what he’s been pining over for ages. Like he figured, Eddie’s lips are sweet and plump, so very easy to kiss and tasty to boot. Not only do they fit together seamlessly but Eddie is an amazing kisser. They move together in a sort of dance that shouldn’t be possible between two people who have never done this before.

Steve is more than happy to note the small noises that Eddie makes when the kiss deepens. His passive hands by his sides suddenly reach up to grab onto Steve’s hips. The move brings them closer and all bets are off. Steve can’t control himself now that the floodgates are open and Eddie is asking for it back.

Little by little, Steve walks Eddie back until he’s against the door. The force of impact draws their lips away from each other, though only long enough for Eddie to smirk and Steve to gasp in a couple of needed breaths. Then, they’re back on each other, practically devouring lips and whatever skin either boy can reach. It’s delicate in the sense that Steve’s entire world is hanging in the balance of Eddie’s body pressed against him. If this doesn’t work the way Steve’s been picturing it, he’s not all that sure what he’s going to do.

Except, it does work. It becomes such a beautiful thing that Steve is dumbfounded by the way he feels as Eddie’s hands wander and their lips explore each other even further. His mind is a billion miles away because everything physical is in overdrive. Despite just cumming all over himself, Steve is hard and needy all over again.

Forgetting his previous nakedness, Steve is surprised to feel a firm hand around his cock. He has to break the kiss to look down and watch but the sight is well worth it. Eddie’s fingers are wrapped around him tightly, the rhythm of their movement already starting to drive him absolutely mad. Knowing all the pent up want from before is going to bite him in the ass and make things happen much quicker than he wants, Steve impatiently pushes at Eddie’s swim shorts until he’s naked from the waist down, too.

Then, his own hand joins the party. Their fingers, almost like magnets, lace together around both of their lengths. Steve can’t help the gasp that brings forth – not only has he been dreaming about this very thing, but he’s also excited to realize that their fingers fit together, too. The perfection he’s been pining after is exactly that. Whatever happened in his life before, Steve lets go. He gives it all up to focus on the here and now where Eddie is jacking him off with the type of intensity and passion Steve’s only ever dreamed off. He’s exactly where he wants to be and nothing from his past life is going to change that.

----

Eddie is in a fugue state. He’s got to be because Steve Harrington’s hand is around his cock, giving him the best hand job Eddie has ever gotten.

It takes several minutes of breathing into each other’s mouths and squeezing Steve’s fingers to come to terms with the fact that this, the craziness of Steve actually wanting him enough to touch and kiss him, is actually happening. When that reality settles in, Eddie gives his all to it. He doubles down on the task at hand, putting forth all his skill and focus to bring them both to the cusp of that glorious oblivion. He doesn’t think about what happens after or how things might change. There’s no use worrying when his balls are drawing up and an orgasm is on the horizon.

Since he’s not all that sure about what’s going to become of this, Eddie does his best to remember everything. He categorizes the feel of Steve’s hand around him and the tangle of their fingers. His mind tries to record the sounds Steve makes as a drop of precum blurts from the tip of his dick. It’s almost too big of a task with so little brain power but Eddie is absolutely up for it. In fact, he’s been desperate for an opportunity to cling to these tiny details he’s never allowed himself to take in before. It’s ludicrous, really. Everything about the situation is so far from what Eddie thinks he truly deserves.

Yet, Steve makes him feel like a million bucks as the pace of their strokes starts to increase. His body is strung tight, Eddie feeling like he’s walking the trapeze trying his very best to hold on and not fall down from that great height. The nervousness of being less than adequate falls by the wayside – Steve Harrington is huffing breath into his mouth, he’s kissing Eddie’s lips. That, in and of itself, must mean something.

Eddie learns quickly that the whole thing means a lot more than he’s willing to admit. When they cum, Steve says his name again, panting it against Eddie’s mouth like a pray. He clings to Eddie, as if letting him go is the worst possibility there’s ever been. In his very core, Eddie feels the rightness of cumming over Steve’s belly and being so very near to him all at once. He too says Steve’s name like it’s God’s holy word, like it’s the last thing he’ll ever utter.

It’s a benediction.

It's glorious in so many ways.

There’s a moment where Eddie is nervous about what’s to come but that’s happily broken up by the banging sound of a fist against the closed door. Eddie shudders when he hears Robin’s voice. So soon after orgasm, Eddie almost can’t stand to have her near.

Based on her tone, Robin obviously feels the same.

“Since you two are busy loudly fucking each other’s brains out, I think I’m going to head out for the night. I’ll need an abundance of booze tomorrow to drown out the sound of you two getting each other off. Thanks for the mems, friends. You guys are the best.”

Snorting, because there’s nothing else Eddie can do, he leans into Steve and tries not to laugh outright. Robin is already scarred by their performance, laughing at her probably isn’t the best course of action. Though, Steve doesn’t seem to feel the same. He’s chuckling to the point where his chest heaves. The whole thing is so much that Eddie doesn’t try to fight it anymore – their laughter is the soundtrack Robin listens to as she climbs back down the stairs and gets into Nancy’s car.

Eddie is more than certain they’ll never live this down but that doesn’t matter when Steve’s so near. Especially when Steve doesn’t try to pull away or put any sort of space between them. In fact, Steve yanks Eddie to him, mixing their shared pleasure even further. There are kisses and a few more panted breaths. There is closeness and satisfaction.

Then, Steve says words Eddie will never forget.

“Ready for round two?”

tag list (message if you’d like to be added): @infinite-orangepeel, @thefreakandthehair, @corrodedcoughin, @prettyboisteveharrington, 

[amalgamgooze]

early something like workaholism

I've been told several times throughout this week that the lab's got tomorrow off, but people are still going in anyway to get some analysis done.

Most announcements of this directed at me have suggested that I take the day off tomorrow too, even though we've all already got today off.

...

I can't say why, but I'm still compelled to go in tomorrow.

Like, we're at the verge of my parents almost having to hold me back because I feel like I need to go in tomorrow regardless and get some work done.

...

The worst part is that I don't *want* to go in. I *want* to stay home and work on my own projects.

But something deep inside of me is telling me that doing what I *want* as opposed to doing what's productive is very, very wrong.

And it's not even like I like the work that I'm doing all that much.

Yes, getting my pipeline code to work and produce pretty graphs of calcium events from imaging is very satisfying, but that's the better parts of the job.

The worse parts involve manually going through cruddy (noisy) images and tracing microglial cells using a mouse.

...

I'm blessed with the self-awareness to realize why I'm torn here.

It's because I feel INCREDIBLY respected by the other people in my lab--even though I'm just an intern.

And I'm scared of letting them down because I didn't "do enough work" or "crunch enough data".

Now, normally, with a revelation like this, the solution is pretty clear-cut. Find the root of the problem/irrational feelings, then re-rationalize your thoughts.

But the thing is that I feel like everything is rational here.

It's normal, perfectly acceptable, and in fact even expected for the others in my lab to expect at least *some* work from me--an intern amount of work.

Work that accurately reflects the amount of time I'm spending on it.

I'm afraid I'm not producing enough work as I should be--even though I'm working myself partway to mental exhaustion when I'm spending the day tracing cells and copy-pasting data.

...

I suppose the positive takeaway from this is that I feel respected by the geniuses working in this lab--even though I'm nowhere near as proficient as they are with the subject.

Still though, the larger negative implication of me being "something like a workaholic" already is, well, depressing to say the least. I haven't even made it to college yet!

...

It's just weird feelings again, I suppose.

I don't like that I feel like I can't do things I want to do because there's always more important things I don't want to do that could be done.

Or something like that.

[quevadilla]

thank you @anything-thats-rock-and-roll for the tag!

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED?: yesterday i think? was getting real emotional over characters overcoming their insecurities

DO YOU HAVE KIDS?: no, i've known since i was like 11 that i never wanna have my own children

WHAT SPORTS DO YOU PLAY/HAVE YOU PLAYED?: believe it or not i played softball for exactly one season in middle school and i wasn't very good but who's really surprised? not me fs. i sort of played badminton recreationally for like a month in 2021 bc i was going to little college events as a student with friends and sometimes they'd just have the equipment set up, it was really fun and i miss it ngl

DO YOU USE SARCASM: more than half the time words actually come out of my mouth

WHAT'S YOUR EYE COLOR?: a very light blue

SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS?: it definitely depends on the movie but i tend towards happy endings fs

ANY TALENTS?: i'm decent enough with numbers? like i think i'm well above average but nowhere near like genius level. pre-calc was at least half of the reason why i dropped out of college

WHERE WERE YOU BORN?: born and raised in minnesota baybee and probably will never move away

ANY HOBBIES?: i bake here and there and i've been wanting to get back into knitting so bad lately!! i love activities with tangible products like that. if lego sets weren't so expensive my room would be full of completed ones but alas.. almost forgot reading too lol

DO YOU HAVE ANY PETS?: we have four cats (gracie, vishnu, munchkin, goober) in the house right now, one belonging to my brother and the other three belonging to the family but i call gracie my cat bc we spend the most time together, i'm definitely her person

HOW TALL ARE YOU?: a solid 5'2 unfortunately

FAVORITE SUBJECT IN SCHOOL?: math by a long shot and the youth studies course i took over the summer semester of 2021 at my university, we read so many good books!

DREAM JOB?: i honestly have no idea but i want as little interaction face-to-face with the public as possible, i think (which is the opposite of my current job which is food service ugh) and something that won't invade/take over my personal life

i don't want to tag anyone so if you see this, feel free to join!

[daman19942]

15 QUESTIONS FOR 15 MUTUALS

I’m slow to do this because I’m recovering from a small surgery, but thank you to @plumbtales & @polynovskaya for tagging me. Not going to tag anyone because I’m late and still feeling like a zombie, but here goes:

1. Are you named after anyone?

Nope, my parents just liked the name and thought it fit well with my brothers’ names.

2. When was the last time you cried?

Oh boy, last week? I’ve watched a few Ozu films lately and they are just devastating. Haven’t cried from the surgery yet, but that’s coming soon. 

3. Do you have kids?

Nope. Single and not planning to have kids at this time.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

It may not come across here, but absolutely. 

5. What sports do you play/have you played?

Growing up with brothers, I played a bunch of sports. Baseball, soccer, golf, etc... I’ve been getting back into rock climbing since moving to Los Angeles (indoors, not outdoors yet). I need to be active to stay sane. 

6. What’s the first thing you notice about other people?

Either their eyes or if they have a warm / cold personality. Don’t be self-centered. 

7. Scary movies or happy endings?

Happy endings. I’m not a horror movie person in the slightest. 

8. Any special talents?

I’ve done a little Ninja Warrior training (obstacle courses and other challenges) so I think that is pretty special. Though I’m nowhere near an expert at that. 

9. Where were you born?

New England. I haven’t lived there in more than a decade but I miss it more and more. 

10. What are your hobbies?

I’d say video games but TS2 is basically the only game I play at this point. Watching movies, writing, reading, staying active. I’m currently trying to learn Norwegian, so I’m counting that too. 

11. Do you have any pets?

I do not, but I badly want a dog after I graduate and have a more sensible schedule. 

12. How tall are you?

Average height! 5′9″

13. Fave subject in school?

English first, then film studies. I always loved the humanities and hate to see them dwindling in popularity as college becomes unreasonably expensive that students think they need to pivot to STEM to make enough of a living to pay off loans. You learn such vital reading comprehension, writing, and research skills in the humanities, and I think our cultural literacy is already suffering because of it. 

14. Dream job?

I’d say watching, writing, and reading about movies and TV would be pretty close to a dream job, and that’s what I’m trying to do by coming back to grad school. Of course, that doesn’t come with a ton of financial security. So that + being independently wealthy to make it all the more enjoyable. 

15. Eye colour?

Blue!

[rihon-scribe-some-writer-guy]

Hi! Where'd you get your doctorate in rhetoric and theology?

I learned everything that I know about theology and rhetoric from today’s sponsor: Skillshare! Click the link below to receive a 4% discount on your first 5 classes- nah, I’m just pulling your leg there anonymous asker. However this meme of an answer leads into today’s lecture. For anyone wanting to know about how I acquired my doctorates and can’t bother with learning, feel free to scroll down this post and start at the section labeled ‘Story Time’.

General Studies 324:

On Degrees and Knowledge

For everyone else, thank you for your patience in waiting for this lecture. Things have been picking up a bit in my day job, and I recently got motivation to output some writing sessions. They were really rough works, but every work starts out that way. Nevertheless, you all now have my undivided, over obsessive attention. So grab your choice of note taking materials.

Now doctorates take a few years with a university or similar form of higher education. On average, most people take four additional years of schooling after the standard four years of typical college. Now some individuals can cut the time frame by a year, however it’s still a hefty time to spend in school. It also takes a significant amount of money to pay the tuition fees for all that time, as well as other expenses such as books and student activity fees.

Unless one plans to become either a theology professor or work alongside historians and archaeologists on sites, a theology major isn’t worth pursuing from a practical standpoint. I dare say that even if someone was fortunate enough to be the be of the few to land such a job in field that don’t have a high demand of applicants needed, one could still make an argument to not pursue such. Additionally, I feel that it’s safe to assume that a general theology degree from nonreligious-based colleges requires students to explore religious beliefs that differ from their own. Plenty of community churches will offer decently paid positions despite educational background. In regards to a rhetoric degree, I also believe that such a degree limited to positions where the salary might not reflect the time commitment.

To answer your the original question truthfully, I didn’t get a doctorate in either of those subjects. I come from a humble family who didn’t have the income to pay for college in full. In order for my siblings and I to attend college, we had to take advantage of scholarships, and I was the only child who was able to hold onto scholarships long enough to make it through the full term of a diploma. Looking back on the time, I should consider myself fortunate to have received my four-year bachelor’s degree without having to go into student debt. However, I was only able to take a major and a minor. Looking forward to the future and considering that neither avenue of study really resonates with my personality, I disregarded pursuing either theology or rhetoric degrees.

(Gasp) But Mr. Scribe, you gave the answer to the asked question and we’re nowhere near the bottom of the post.

Yes, student-who-states-the-obvious, that’s correct. Anyone who decided to just skip to the bottom is reading my super rough self-insert fic. This is another lesson: there’s a substantial difference in knowledge that is bestowed and knowledge that is earned. To take the recollection of solely one source runs the inherent risk of receiving misinformation. It’s the same reason why you shouldn’t take the blogging of a tumblr user who identifies as a nun in her profile as truth, especially if her blogs lack scripture reference. The primary goal of education isn’t to force as much knowledge into a brain as possible. The primary goal of education is to develop open-mindedness, self-research, problem-solving, and healthy cognitive development. To phrase it simpler; it not learning the facts, it’s about understanding how to gain information and think on your own. People don’t need diploma to know things; diplomas just act as a social construct of recognition certificates.

Now, if you’re really dedicated to pursuing a career in theology, I believe that it would be in your best interest to ask a respected leader of a nearby religious community in a public setting or the equivalent of an expert in the rhetorical sphere; a speech writer for political candidates would be my first suggestion. However, why go into student debt to here how some guy lecture about religion when you could walk into a public church/temple and listen to a sermon for free? Why, if an individual would travel to a well-off Protestant church and inquire about where they could buy a Bible, the church would just give them one. The book app on my phone offers free downloads of the Bible. I can google Bible verses off of context alone and get Bible gateway to provide the exact verse that I need.

Mr. Scribe, you don’t have the ability to apply the scriptures in your teaching! 😡

Why not? The Bible is the most distributed piece of literature out there. When the printing press made its way west to the states, the sole purpose of sending them out by the dozens was to print a mass-ton of bibles. (Berthold, Arthur Benedict (1970), American colonial printing as determined by contemporary cultural forces, 1639-1763,) We have had centuries to perfect the translation of of the Bible to the point where kid shows can feature Bibleman and Larryboy. Mistranslation shouldn’t be an issue. So why is it that some people suggest that a rhetoric doctorate is needed?

Let me answer that rhetorical question: it’s because some people do not want their ideas and beliefs contradict. Therefore, they say that in order for anyone to speak on their beliefs, they either have to go through financial strain to earn a piece of paper, or conform to their beliefs and abandon free thinking. If someone were to ask me what the major difference is between a religious organization and a cult, my response would be that cults don’t have a NAICS code to identify them… so a fair amount of them end up using the NAICS code of religious organizations. If someone is suggesting that you’re reading scripture in the wrong mindset, then I believe that it’s safe to reason that they are attempting to narrow the view to solely fit the prerogative of their group.

Story Time:

To answer the original question of where I received the two doctorates, I would require clarification. If one is asking what was the physical location that I was present in when I received those papers, then my answer would be that I received my rhetoric doctorate in the McKenzie Theater of Eastern Oregon University in December of 2008, then I received my theology doctorate in the mess hall of an undisclosed military institution in late February of 2011. If the question pertained to from which institution did my doctorates originated from, then my rhetoric doctorate originated from the University of London, and my theology doctorate originated from Princeton University.

Now, an observant reader can clearly see that the places of origin deviate greatly from where I receive them. Your suspicion are valid because I received each doctorate through non conventional means and events.

Rhetoric

I was beginning my college career at Eastern Oregon University when my mandated English class had required me to write a ten page nonfictional narrative. I chose to write “Guinea Pig Passing,” a recollection of how each family member dealt with the final days of our pet Guinea Pig named Bullwinkle. At the time, I felt like it wasn’t the most creative concept, but my mind was more focused on the university’s theatrical production of a staged “Pride and Prejudice”.

The due date approached come late October and I’m struggling to stay focused after proofreading the night before, dealing with La Grande and finding a parking place. I’m making my way to Loso Hall with eyes drooping when I stumble into an old white man decked in Doctor Who-like attire . We both drop our papers and he begins to complain in an English accent so thick, he could have stopped bullets with a cry for “Tea Time”. We take our papers and quickly stride away from each other.

If you guessed that we ended up swapping papers, then congratulations, you get a cookie 🍪.

I realized the switch-a-roo before turning in sketches of Victorian clothing, rushed to a computer lab to print out whatever version I had on my thumb drive, and came in late to class to turn in the assignment.

I fretted about the assignment being turned in under a draft different than the final all the way to rehearsal when, lo-and-behold, doctor who-needs-to-crack-a-smile is talking with the director until he catches a glimpse of me. I’m expecting the worst yet am taken aback when he approaches me with tears in eyes. He holds my assignment as if he was Oliver begging for more and asks me if I wrote it. I get two confused nods in before he brings me into a hug and I get a unhealthy whiff of expensive cigars.

So… it turn out that I bumped into Professor James Martin of the University of London who ventured overseas to aid or production while taking in the sights of Portland. He’s a nice guy once you get the chance to not bumble into him. He liked my nonfictional essay (said something about how it reminded him of Bill Faulkreath’s ‘As I Lay Crying’ or something) and we talked a bit about Darcy. I thought he would slap me for saying how Darcy seemed less of a character and more of a plot device and end goal for the leading lady, Elizabeth. However, he appreciated the fresh take. I showed him around Portland; good times.

So I ended up getting a A on the assignment because that professor was a real one, passed Tabatha’s class with a B, then get called in by the Dean who sat me down to tell me that ‘Guinea Pig Passing’ was submitted to the University of London’s Distinguished works of Rhetoric to obtain the highest honor. Then they held a ceremony in McKenzie Theater where I was bestowed an honorary doctorate in rhetorics.

Theology:

For the story of how I got my theology doctorate, your going to want to lie down.

It’s October 2010 and I’m feeling melancholic. Two years passed and I’m feeling the pointless of striving for purpose. Emptied of care, I went to the my fall freshman language professor, Miss Swanson, because she was one of the few people who didn’t hold me up in high regards. Miss Swanson told me that maybe I would find interest in a humanities project, but said humanities really weirdly. There was a two-second pause before she dragged out ‘huuuuumaaanities’ like Disney drags out a purchased franchise across their money grater. Luckily, I didn’t pick up on his hesitation and agreed on the grounds that I had nothing to lose.

October 28th rolls around and I’m sitting in a room with professors galore thinking that this isn’t how most students spend a Friday evening.

Rihon: Are you sure it’s okay that I’m sitting in this meeting? I’m the only student here.

Miss Swanson: You have a Rhetorics Doctorate.

Rihon: Cool. Where’s the Sociology doctor who wrote his dissertation on a cop running over his black Labrador?

Fellow bloggers, I don’t know how to put it other than bluntly. The entire staff of Eastern Oregon University gathered together to try and prevent the end of America.

Miss Swanson explained to me how Native Americans cursed the early European colonizers to rid them off of the land. However they believed it to be a myth because they couldn’t line up the dates with the stars in the sky on a palindrome day.

Rihon: What, like, ‘be wary, be wary, of the eleventh of February?’

Miss Swanson: No. It would be Remember, remember, the second of November.’

Rihon: Sorry. Must have been Martin talking.

Miss Swanson: What do you mean?

Rihon: Well, he tended to list dates by the day, then month, then year. The way he explained it actually made so much more sense.

I hope none of you ever have to see a professor look like they just shit their drawers.

First, Miss Swanson made that face, then she wanders over to the Dean who makes the face, then they announce that they may have been looking at the date wrong, letting the entire staff make that face.

Rihon: Sooo… score one for the millennials?

Miss Swanson: We could all die.

Rihon: You’re just jealous.

With the time to prepare cut in half, plans were made for a group of professors to head to the first settlement of what would come to be the United States. When talk came about that they wished they could send more aid, I did the only logical thing I could of. I went to DisneyWorld.

Disney has this college program where college students work the park. I score a role as Goofy/Prince Eric, made a few friends, and waited until February to surprise my professors.

Rihon: Heyyyy. Guess who’s gonna help you save the worldddd?

Miss Swanson: You’re coming to Jamestown???

Rihon: Jamestown?

Swanson: Don’t play dumb. Jamestown Virginia settled by the English permanently in 1607.

Rihon: you’re joking, right?

Miss Swanson: maybe you should stay in your history class.

Rihon: the one that says St. Augustine was settled by the Spaniards in 1565?

(Longest pause ever)

Rihon: Score two for millennials?

Miss Swanson: Not the time.

So the U.S. has a week expiration date and the team of faculty members are states way, leaving the world ending crisis to 20-year-old me; and the merry band of Disney Team Members who joined me in my excavation to St. Augustine. I’m glad they tag along as it helped me delegate the mental workload and allow us to figure out that the cursed site laid in Castillo de San Marcos. Making the most of what could have been our last days, we waited until that fateful Friday to stop the curse.

Now if anyone was expecting the final boss battle to be against Sitting Bull and their spirit totem pole amalgamation monster, then you’ll be as surprised as we were when I tell you that they were mere pawns and means to ends. The true mastermind was a Hollywood-gorgeous-white-man who would have looked all the prettier if he didn’t scowl at the time. Then again, he made it pretty clear that he loathed the fact that we dared attempted to stop him. Fast forward a monologue of contempt, I try to get him to spill the beans on why he’s doing what he’s doing and how to stop it.

Then Pretty-Psycho took out a scroll and sent dark magic towards Auburn, the girl who played Ariel beside me. I shielded her from this reality defying magic, and then I died.

Are you being serious, Rihon?

Yes and no. Time rifts are a tricky thing, which is why I advise against using dark magic if it’s not completely understood. A human body isn’t able to travel through raw tear in the timeline, but a soul departs from the body and the timeline entirely. So, I died in the sense that my soul departed from my body, but… well, there’s a reason why the world didn’t end back in 2011.

I was a bodiless entity existing out of the newly torn timeline. Time itself was laid out for me to where I could observe present past and two possible futures, one of doom and the one we know as our present (so… a more subtle doom.) It became evident that in order to achieve the lesser of two evils, I had to return to by body within a small window of when my soul departed it before my brain processes the loss of blood flow. Yet since I existed outside of time, I had about 30% of forever to figure out how to go back to that moment. So I decided to drift back in time and search for a way back home.

To sum up a timeless story, I learned secret truths of life, existence, and the construct of reality while floating around as a soul. One of those secrets truths: the origin of our known universe. Along with that, I learned how to return to my body at the time tear and defeat the Adondeath, the true name of Pretty-Pyscho.

After the Disney gang and I prevented the end of the world, we were arrested by the military along with the Native American minion and Adondeath. Even with the staff members of Eastern Oregon University coming to speak in my defense, it takes the better part of two weeks for the military to truly understand what had happened. Around day three, I had the pleasure to meet… well, more like be interrogated and psychoanalyzed by… many professors who were experts in their field yet had the availability to aid the military. One of them was Eddie Glaude Jr.: the William S. Tod Professor of Religion and African American Studies and chair of the Department of African American Studies at Princeton University. Mr. Glaude asked me about boring specifics about the spiritual aspects of the dark ritual to which I had to explain them in relationship of the understanding of religious beliefs to a T. Having aced an oral exam of incalculable magnitude. Mr. Glaude spent a week to let his brain recover before he and every other external professor told the military that I was honest and sane… given the circumstances.

The Disney crew gets medals of heroism, yet we are sworn to secrecy to not let the general public know, and return to finish our internships at DisneyWorld before having come to the realization that our lives cap at meaningful experiences before we reached the legal drinking age. Oh and Mr. Glaude gifted me a doctorate of theology.

Lecture Wrap Up:

Alright class. That’s enough of my rants and recollections for a while.

For extra credit: find a grammatical error in today’s lecture, submit a new lecture topic in my inquiry box, or list out something that you learned today. No due date for these bonus points.

[twsted-garden-imagines]

Available Products - Requesting Rules (PLEASE READ BEFORE MAKING REQUESTS)

--------------

So, you would like to help me plant some seeds to my lovely garden here~? Below are some rules to follow and things to keep in mind while making your request.

General Rules

1. Plants take time to grow! Please be patient with me as I might not get to your request immediately, I am a college student with 2 jobs, so my life can get a bit hectic at times. I mean no hard feelings if I don’t get to your request right away.

2. This garden gets crowded easily! I only allow a maximum of 10 requests at a time before closing them. This is to keep me from getting overwhelmed. Once I go through all the requests, I will reopen them. If you’re not sure if requests are open or how many slots are available, you can find it in the bio. 

3. The rules can change at any time! I will, however, be sure to let you all know when this is happening and the reasons why. I try my best to be as transparent as possible with all who visit Twisted Garden!

4. Please be kind to one another! This one is self-explanatory, but don’t be rude or a creep to me or any other visitor to Twisted Garden. 

5. If the reader’s gender is not specified, it will automatically be gender neutral. 

6. No more than 6 characters or 1 dorm/group per ask please!

7. I pinky promise I don’t bite! If you have any questions about the rules or if you need clarification on something in the rules, please don’t hesitate to ask. I’m more than happy to help you! 

---------------

What Will Daisy Plant? (Stoplight System, subject to change at any time)

Red (I refuse to write these + reasons why)

- Yandere (personally triggering)

- anything for Noble Bell College/Rollo Flamm (nowhere near that part of the game + ENG-only player = I’m not confident enough to write for them yet. I do hope to write for him once it comes to the ENG server!) 

- anything post- Book 6 (see above with Noble Bell College)

- Politics/Current Events (Twisted Garden is a place to get away from that stress, not to add more to it!, plus potentially personally triggering)

- Character x Character (I don’t want to start World War III in my garden.)

- OCs (I am very worried that the seeds for these will get planted wrong and I’ll somehow accidentally mess up their character)

- Rape, incest, and other extremely triggering content (self-explanatory)

- Extreme kink (i.e. BDSM, DDLG and variants, etc.) (personally triggering + not having much experience with it)

- NSFW of anyone who is not a third year (I am an adult, so making that kind of content with canon minors really grosses me out.) 

- NSFW or romantic content with Ortho or Grim (see above with NSFW of non- third years, he’s younger than Idia and his canon age is unknown; I don’t think I need to explain with Grim)

Yellow (I’ll write it, but it might take more time to get done + reasons)

- RSA Students (I don’t know much about them, but I have seen some content about them so I’ll still give it a shot. I can’t guarantee it won’t be a bit OOC though)

- NRC Staff (see above with RSA students)

- Grim (again, see RSA students)

- NSFW of third years (for those who don’t know: Trey, Cater, Leona, Vil, Rook, Idia, Malleus, and Lilia) (I don’t have a lot of experience writing NSFW)

- Angst (again, not much experience)

- x male reader (I do not identify as male, so it will be harder for me to write)

- anything from Book 5 or Book 6 (not quite there in the game yet, but I have seen plenty of content for it and kinda know what happens already)

- crossovers with other fandoms (I might have to do research into that other fandom)

Green (I’ll write it with little to no issues)

- x female reader

- NRC Students

- general headcanons, imagines, and oneshots

- anything before Book 5

White (I’ll write it, these will usually be given top priority as I’m super confident with these ones)

- fluff

- hurt/comfort

- anything with the following characters: Leona, Trey, anyone in Octavinelle or Pomefiore, Malleus, and Lilia 

- x gender neutral reader (default)

- x autistic reader

-----------------

That should be all for now, I’ll let you all know should anything change. Happy planting!

With love, Daisy

Rules last updated: 03-18-2023

[noyaism]

No Manners

Pairing: Tsukishima Kei x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: enemies/rivals to lovers, public sex, hate sex, heavy degrading, edging, choking, overstim, teasing, size kink, power dynamics, sir!Tsukki, dacryphilia, humiliation, spanking, slapping, exhibitionism, sadism, masochism, dumbification, creampie, this shit is pure filth (let me know if I missed any warnings!)

Song Inspo: No Manners - Superm

If there was anything you prided yourself on, it was being the smartest person in any given room you walked into. School had always come so easily to you, no subject too hard, no concept you wouldn't understand. That was, until you got to college. University was a beast unto its own, and it showed you that maybe the genius you had always believed you possessed could indeed be threatened. 

While you found yourself at the top at almost every single class you took, your economics class was your Achilles heel. It irked you how the information just didn’t seem to mesh with you. It made you feel so inferior, and that wasn’t something you were used to. It also wasn’t something Tsukishima Kei was used to, however, thanks to you he was feeling a new sense of inferiority that was completely foreign to him. He, like you, was used to being at the top of his class, nobody coming close to him academically. Then, he got to university, and unfortunately for him you two shared a major, and took the exact same classes. It was odd enough in the first semester, and when it ended he was so glad to finally get away from you, and to regain his status.

Then the second semester came and once again, you both signed up for the exact same classes. This time was different, though, because finally, Tsukishima held something over you; you couldn’t understand economics to save your life, and it came to Tsukishima as easily as everything else did. 

Understandably, the two of you had developed a bit of a rivalry. It would come around every so often that Tsukki did better than you on a test, scored higher in a lab, and it drove you insane how he would rub it in, so when you did better than him, you did the same. The two of you were starting to hate each other’s guts. However, you were on the verge of failing your economics class, and there wasn’t going to be anyone better to help you study than Tsukishima. When you asked him to help you study he straight up laughed in your face, entertained by the fact you were actually coming to him for help. It was such a stroke to his ego, he couldn’t possibly say no. 

You two scheduled a study session for the following Friday evening. You met in one of the study rooms up on the third floor around five, intending to stay for a couple hours. Tsukishima had arrived a little early, as you walked in you saw him with his notebook and laptop out on the table, writing down some notes. You took a seat next to him, getting yourself ready to begin. As he attempted to explain all these concepts to you; rambling on about monopolies and price ceilings and deficits, none of it was clicking. You asked him to explain things time and time again, and he was getting visibly irritated the more you seemed to not be getting things.

“You agreed to help me study, Tsukishima. You can't go on and complain now that I don’t get it, you knew I didn't.”

“Yeah, I got that part, but I wasn’t expecting you to be this utterly dense.” 

You folded your arms across your chest, letting out a small huff under your breath.

“You're such a dick.” You muttered, not thinking much of the remark. It was an unequivocal fact that anyone who ever came in contact with him had to know, which you yourself already knew quite well, but you hadn't expected him to be this bad personally. You thought since you were undoubtedly better at him in any other subject you would at least be spared of his ill mannered remarks, but it seemed to be the opposite; he'd get on you because you were so much better at him in everything else. It was the one thing he held over you, and he was going to make the absolute most of it. 

“What did you call me?” He asked, snapping his head in your direction. 

“I called you a dick, because you are. I get it, okay? I don’t understand the material, it’s above my intelligence level, I’m the dumbest bitch in the world. Cool, fine, awesome. If tutoring me is that much of a pain I’ll just go, alright? Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

Utterly fed up, you tossed all of your things into your backpack and got up from your seat, starting to storm away. Tsukishima watched you as you went for the door, only momentarily, before getting up and following behind you. You barely got the door unlocked and open before a forceful push of a hand from above shut it, and you turned and looked up at the man, confused as to what it was he was doing.

“We aren’t done studying.”

“Yes we are. I can’t take your shit anymore, I’m done.”

“No, we’re gonna stay here and work on this until you get it,” He lowered himself down to make more direct eye contact with you.

“Got me?” He finished, once the two of you were level. You let out a chuckle, shaking your head a bit. This situation was unbelievable, and he was totally impossible. You weren’t sure how much clearer you could possibly get, but you had no problem reiterating yourself.

“No, I don’t. Makes sense that I don’t, right? ‘Cuz I’m ‘utterly dense’, as you said.”

“And incredibly mouthy, apparently.”

“Only when dealing with assholes like you.” Tsukishima let out a chuckle of his own after that line, straightening himself up and looking down on you once again. You hated when he did that, but it wasn’t like he had much choice, he towered over your much smaller frame. It personified your current situation almost too well. 

“You know, someone should put little girls like you in their place.” He fairly quickly retorted.

“And someone should knock tall elitists like you down a peg.” You scoffed. 

“I’d love to see you try.” Tsukishima took a couple steps back from you after speaking, as if to quite literally challenge you to do something. You weren’t a violent person to say the least, but at that moment you would’ve paid good money to punch the man before you in the face, and it seemed you were going to get the opportunity for free. How could you possibly pass that up?

You dropped your backpack onto the floor, lurching forward at Tsukishima before it even hit the floor. To your utter surprise he caught you before you got too close, his hand wrapped around your neck. It was nowhere near a tight grip, but it left you breathless, and forced you to look up at the blonde. There was this smirk on his face, like you had done exactly what he wanted you to, like he now had you in the palm of his hand. The look in his eye was so devilish, nobody had ever looked at you like that. You almost didn’t know what to make of it, almost.

“Now now, dumb little whores like you don’t get to touch me.” The pure filth that fell from his lips confirmed exactly what you rationalized from his gaze. It was all you needed.

“Fuck me, now.”

Tsukishima needed no further instruction, moving his hand off your throat and down to your thigh, pulling your leg up and prompting you to wrap yourself around him. He caught you midway through your small jump, and in an instant your lips crashed together. You couldn’t shake just how angry he made you, and he couldn’t shake how sexy you looked when you were mad. That little body of yours held so much aggression in it, and since he was more than willing to let out the beast in you, Tsukki was just as willing to tame it.

In fact, he would take great pleasure in doing so.

Tsukki walked back over to the table you two were sat at, placing you down onto the cold, manicured wood. The exchange of your lips was filled to the brim in the most carnal, lustful intent. The two of you fought for dominance with it, neither of you having even the slightest intention of backing down. Tsukishima was already more than frustrated with you, and your attempts to gain control of the situation weren't helping. 

With a swift move he pulled away from the kiss and brought a hand around your neck once again, this time giving it a fairly decent grip. His face looked so calm, like this was nothing he hadn't done before, but his actions told a completely different story. How he managed to keep his expression so composed while taking full control of you made a shiver run down your spine, and the heat between your thighs grow exponentially. 

“Listen; I’m the one in charge here, y/n. What makes you think a tiny, powerless slut like you could ever even attempt to control someone so much bigger, so much stronger than them, hm?” 

“I-I dunno…” You stuttered out, much to Tsukishima’s liking. 

“You don’t know, that's exactly what I thought. Well then, let me teach you where your place is.” While his left hand maintained its place around your throat, his right hand snaked up your thigh and under your skirt, his fingers ghosting over your clothed sex. The faint contact made you whine, you couldn't stand how badly you needed him to touch you. Your eyes pleaded for him to do something, and he basked in the glory of making you so weak so quickly. He then obliged, rubbing small, slow circles onto your clit.

“Your place is right here; being dominated by me. You will feel pleasure only when I allow you to. You will cum only when I allow you to. You will be obedient, and you’ll love every second of it. Am I understood?” 

You nodded your head with what free range of motion you had, your hips bucking in the direction of his fingers, trying to gain more pleasure in the only way you currently could. 

“Use your words, and address me only as sir.” He instructed, moving his fingers away from you. It was bad enough his moves were teasing at best, but denying you of any contact completely was infinitely worse.

“Yes, sir. I understand.” 

Tsukishima let go of your throat, using both hands to undress you, leaving you in nothing but your panties, which were horribly stained with your eagerness. It stroked his ego immensely, looking at the girl who plagued his mind, who made him feel so inferior so many times, naked in front of him, so ready to be ravaged by him. So exposed, so pathetic, but so undeniably sexy. 

He pulled up a chair, taking a seat in between your legs. His fingers danced over the skin of your inner thigh, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. You felt so needy all you could do was whine, not a single beg or plead coming from you. He hooked a finger onto the side of your panties, pulling them over to get a good look at you. Your pussy glistened under the fluorescent lights, coated in wetness you had never experienced before. It was like a work of art for Tsukki, who took a minute to admire the piece before he pulled your underwear off of you entirely. 

He took his left thumb and ran it down the length of your sex, dipping between your folds before coming back up to your clit, finally starting to please you again. A moan slipped from between your lips, filling the quiet of the room. Tsukishima brought two fingers from his opposite hand up to your lips, and without needing instruction you allowed them entry. Your tongue swirled around his digits, a slight hum ringing from your throat as your oral fixation was satisfied. 

His fingers left your mouth with a small pop, and they were brought down to your core. They prodded at your entrance, teasing you by the anticipation of entry. You wanted it, wanted it so bad it was much more a need, and at that point you weren’t too proud to beg for it. Just as your lips parted Tsukishima pushed them into you, a whine coming from you instead. You fell back onto the table, your back arching off the wood as his fingers worked wonders unknown on you. With an upward curl he brushed up against your g-spot, your hips bucking upward in response. The pads of his fingers massaged the rough patch of flesh momentarily, making your legs shake as helpless little curses fell from your lips.

As he began pumping his fingers again he also sped up the rate at which his thumb circled your clit, and it became quite clear to Tsukki that your orgasm was approaching, and was doing so fast. You could feel the knot in your stomach getting tighter and tighter, it was almost unbearable. You heard his voice say something, but your head was spinning you could barely make it out.

“Answer me, slut. I’m not repeating myself.” Was all you could make out, but considering you didn’t know the question, it was an impossible feat. Just as your orgasm was about to arrive Tsukishima removed his fingers from you, his thumb ceased all movement, and you were left with a ruined orgasm and your hips bucking into the air.

“You’re not cumming until you can answer one of my questions correctly. That should be good enough incentive for a stupid, needy little bitch like you, right?” You propped yourself up on your arms, looking at Tsukishima in utter bewilderment. You couldn’t believe what he was saying, or that he was going to make you answer questions in order to cum, but you had to admit he wasn’t wrong. It was a pretty good incentive.

“Y-yes sir.” 

With a quick smirk Tsukki sank his head down between your thighs, his tongue dipping into your pussy, savoring your delectably sweet taste. His his hands held the backs of your thighs, giving himself unrestricted access to your sex. His tongue flicked over your clit every so often before lapping up your juices again, until he finally gave the bud uninterrupted attention. His lips latched around it, starting to suck as his fingers entered you once more. Your back arched sharply, and your hands moved to tangle into his hair, tugging on the blonde strands. Before you could even process what it was you had done, Tsukishima was hovering above you, slapping your cheek before taking a rough hold of your chin.

“I told you not to touch me, did I not?” You nodded your head frantically,

“You d-did, sir. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, you will be. Off the table.” 

You followed your instructions, and as soon as your feet hit the ground Tsukishima pulled you onto your knees, and held your chin in his hand once again, forcing you to look up at him.

“I don't think I need to tell you what to do here, do I?” You shook your head lightly, your eyes full of wonder as you looked at him. 

“No, sir.”

“Good, then show me that you're actually good at something.”

You shimmied in between Tsukishima’s legs, frantic hands fiddling with his belt as you tried to get his pants off as quickly as possible. You didn't know what was causing you to be so eager, but something in you urged you to act as quickly as possible. As you pulled his pants and boxers down his erection sprang free, the pure size of him catching you off guard. You were no inexperienced woman, this wasn't your first time seeing a penis, but you had yet to deal with anyone of his size. It was a bit intimidating, if you were to be completely honest. 

As you were told, you weren't allowed to actually touch him. You presumed if you used your hands at all it wasn't going to end well for you, but to that you could fairly easily oldige. You licked a long stripe from the base of his length up to his tip, your tongue pressing along a vein that ran that same course. You circled his tip before sucking on it, letting out a satisfied moan around him as his precum leaked out onto your tastebuds. 

You started to take him further into your mouth, each bob of your head adding another inch until you had all of him. Your eyes watered as you felt him in the back of your throat, and you gasped as you came up for air. Tsukishima looked down at you, smirking as he saw a tear run down your cheek.

“You should do more of that.”

“More of what?” You asked, tilting your head in confusion.

“Crying for me.” 

Tsukki took hold of your hair, forcing his cock into your mouth and once again making you take the entirety of him. He held you there, letting out a groan as you choked around him. He brought you up for air and marveled at the tears running down your face, and the desperate look in your eyes. It was art for him and him alone to scrutinize, and he was most certainly a fan of the piece. Before you could fully focus your attention he was in your mouth again, his hips pushing up off the chair as he fucked your face. You gagged around his length, the sounds remarkably gratifying for Tsukishima to hear. 

He brought you back up for air one final time, holding your head up so the two of you made eye contact. He chuckled at you, admiring your current state. Spit dribbled from the sides of your mouth, tears spilled out of your eyes, and you were perilously trying to catch your breath.

“Messy little girl. You're looking more and more like the stupid little slut I've always known you are. Cmon, say it for me, tell me you're a stupid little slut.” 

As if his words weren't degrading enough, this request was surely the icing on the cake, the cherry on top of the sundae. He had you exactly where he wanted you, powerless and obedient. Just a small little toy for him to play with how he pleased. He wasn't satisfied with your lack of obedience, and slapped your cheek once again, roughly grabbing your face after.

“I wasn't giving you an option. Say it.” He demanded.

“I-I’m a stupid little slut.” You complied, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I can't fucking hear you.”

“I’m a stupid little slut!” You repeated, much louder this time. Tsukishima let out a satisfied chuckle, nodding his head. 

“That's right, and who's stupid little slut are you?” 

“Y-your stupid little slut, sir.”

“That’s right.”

Tsukishima pulled you up off the floor, laying you out on the table. He pulled his shirt off, your eyes combing over every little detail of him. You knew on top of being a student he played volleyball, so he had to be fairly muscular, but you weren't expecting what you got. He had a body even Odysseus would be jealous of, making you the ever loyal Penelope.

Tsukki lubed himself up with your wetness, as you were far from falling short of it. No man was ever this rough with you, ever this dominant. It turned you on more than you would like to admit, but there was no need to with Tsukishima. He could tell from the look in your eyes, the tone of your voice, the way your hips slightly bucked as you sucked him off. 

Without warning his tip began to prod at your entrance before starting to slip in. It was no easy feat, though. You were incredibly tight, and even then you hadn't taken anything even close to Tsukishima’s size. He took things slow, watching as every inch of him stretched you further. You whimpered at the sensation, it was intoxicating beyond what your words could even describe. A groan slipped between his lips as he bottomed out, light curses following it. The way you tightened around him made it so hard for him to control himself, but he knew you needed a moment, and he wasn't trying to hurt you.

Not at the moment, at least.

You nodded your head lightly as you felt adjusted, giving him free reign over your body once again. Tsukki grabbed your hands, pinning them above your head before he began to move. He slowly started to pull out, and with a sudden snap you were once again taking all of him, a soft scream coming from you. He did this a couple times, watching how your body jolted. Feeling how your thighs tensed up next to him. Each of these thrusts hit your cervix, sending you reeling each time. 

He picked up the pace, starting to pound into you at a relentless pace. You wrapped your legs around his waist, keeping him close and forcing him to go as deep in you as possible. Tsukishima brought one of his hands down to wrap around your neck, the other still holding your wrists in place. He gave the sides of your neck a squeeze, the lack of circulation rushing toward you just as he hit you with a particularly hard thrust. A light scream fell from your lips, the pleasure in that moment so crazily overwhelming. This routine continued; harder thrusts while he actively choked you, very slightly less hard ones as he gave you a moment to breathe correctly, all the while denying you of your high.

“You better not cum, slut.” He warned as he felt you once again starting to get just a bit too tight around him.

“W-wanna cum....so bad.” You weakly replied, tears welling in your eyes as you spoke. Once again, just as you were on the precipice of release, Tsukishima denied you again, pulling out and leaving you empty. Tears fell from your eyes as you uselessly whimpered and protested, all of it only earning you another slap to your cheek.

“Really thought I’d let you, huh? Dumb little bitch.” He said as he turned you over onto your stomach. He filled you up again, but before he moved any further he began raining spank after spank onto your ass. You could only assume it was punishment, but it felt far from it. The pain was nothing but masochistic pleasure for you, and sadistic pleasure for him. Each stung more than the last, and thus each felt even better than the last.

Your senses were so overloaded as he started to thrust into you again that your brain had turned to utter mush. Coherent thought was so far behind you it was like it was never something you could’ve done in the first place. The only thing you could process was pleasure, and to enhance it you lifted one of your legs back up onto the table, the other continuing to stay hanging over to keep yourself up. This new angle let Tsukishima hit sinfully deep in you once again, adding to the utter brainrot you were experiencing. Words no longer were an option for you, only whines and whimpers, a stray profanity at the very best.

Tsukishima grabbed a fistful of your hair, picking your head up off the table. He made you look in the direction of the door, bending down to speak into your ear.

“Look, you left the door unlocked. Someone could come in at any moment and watch you getting fucked like the little whore you are. But I’m sure you'd like it if someone saw us, wouldn't you?” 

You couldn't bring yourself to form any sort of coherent response, and Tsukki very well knew that. He chuckled at your attempt to reply, which was just a rhythmic whine as if you were trying to get some words out.  

“You're not very quiet, either. Stupid sluts like you like having everyone know how good they feel, don't they? I’m sure someone's come by to spy in, hearing how utterly pathetic you sound.” 

His words only made you whine and whimper more, your head in an absolute daze from the sheer amount of pleasure you felt. Tsukki let go of your hair and your head fell down, and you got a good look at yourself in the mirrored wood table. Your mouth was hanging open, your hair a tangled mess and drool slipping from the corner of your parted lips. He had fucked you so past dumb you didn't even know you could be this far gone, and all the while you still had no clue if you would be allowed to cum.

Your hips pushed back against his, meeting every one of his thrusts and forcing him deeper. Each time he re-entered his tip made quick contact with your cervix, the repeated feeling driving you absolutely crazy. Your eyes rolled back as you let yourself fall onto the wood once again. You took everything he gave you, all the while holding your orgasm back. Each time he felt you were a little too close he pulled out, you couldn't even count how many times you'd been denied release, you were sure the number was shameful. You could tell this was getting harder on Tsukishima as well, the twitching and pulsating of his cock inside you letting you know he was having trouble holding back as well. 

You saw no use in begging at this point, and you couldn't have mustered the words for it even if you wanted to. You simply whined and whimpered with every thrust, your body jolting forward each time. Tsukki held on tight to your hips, keeping you in place as he pounded mercilessly into you. In your daze all your senses had dulled, but you could hear just enough for Tsukishima's next four words to be heard, almost as clear as day. 

“Cum. Do it now.” 

In an instant you finally let yourself topple over the edge. Your voice was so hoarse you couldn't scream, rather you let out something between an incredibly loud moan and a whimper, your back arching and your legs shaking vigorously. Tears spilled from your eyes as your body was overrun by an orgasm unlike any other you had experienced. The feeling was only intensified by Tsukishima cumming inside you, depositing a sizable load inside of you. Your vision was blurry and a little white around the edges, and your chest heaved as you let out shallow breaths. Soreness set into your body as you took time to regain yourself, almost ten minutes passing before either of you even thought to move. 

Tsukki pulled out of you slowly, admiring how fucked out you looked, your small body sprawled out on the table. He figured moving would be hard for you, so he gently let your leg down and peeled you off the table, sitting down in the chair behind him and sitting you on his lap. Your head fell on his shoulder, your eyes still a little glazed over, but for the most part it seemed you had come to. 

“Are you feeling okay?” You nodded your head lightly, your breath finally leveling out. Your throat was pretty scratchy, and you knew your voice would be raspy, so you just didn't bother speaking yet.

“What have you learned today, then?” 

“A good couple things.” You croaked out, wiping a stray tear from your cheek. 

“Oh really? Enlighten me.”

“Well, I learned that economics is just something I'm never really going to understand. I also learned that you are a complete and utter asshole, even worse than I thought. Finally, I learned that you are a way more experienced man than I thought you were, and maybe I don't hate you as much as I was letting on.” 

Tsukishima laughed out lightly, giving you a bit of an approving nod.

“Good, I’m glad I at least taught you something. Maybe not what I originally intended, but learning is learning. I think with a couple more study sessions you’ll start to understand the econ material, though.” 

You didn't say this out loud, but the thought of getting to spend some more alone time with Tsukishima actually wasn't the most terrible thought in the world. It seemed clear enough to you that the resentment between you two was clearly something much, much different than that, and so you were open to the thought of exploring what it actually was. Maybe not in as much of an erotic way as you just had next time. Not that you would've minded if it escalated to that point. 

Although, you thought, if Tsukki was going to fuck you like that every time, brainrot from class material was going to be the least of your worries. 

The both of you made yourselves presentable again, packing up all your belongings and leaving the room clean before walking out, which you did fairly slowly due to how sore your legs were. You both walked through the library, which was overwhelmingly empty besides a few staff members working hard at hardly working. It was to be expected; it was a Friday night and you were the only two in the world who'd pick studying over any other activity. You stopped just outside the entrance, turning to your side and giving Tsukishima a wave.

“I guess I’ll catch you later then, Tsukishima.” 

“Oh, so no thank you for helping you study? I guess the one thing I didn't teach you was manners, huh y/n?” You chuckled at his comment, shaking your head a bit.

“Guess you didn’t. It’ll have to wait until next time.” You turned on your heel and started in the direction of the train. Before you could get far Tsukki grabbed your arm and pulled you back over to him, holding your chin so softly with his other hand, the action so outrageously condescending.

“Oh no, I’ll gladly teach you right now.”

[votederpycausemufins]

I'm so close to being done with college, but it was still rough which is why it's been months since I've posted any writing stuff. more writing should happen sooner than that though with break coming up.

Anyway, enjoy another chapter of the scattered au fic

Coming back from visiting H- J- …the experiment. The two main Watchers were too busy discussing the new information they had learned to notice the mess that was the meeting room. At least not until one of them had their robe grabbed and yanked forward. “Zemunis! Just the Watcher I wanted to see! I have some complaints!”

“Xelqua, what are you doing?”

“I just said. I have some complaints! And just for you. Yuslep was in charge of building and world planning. You were the one setting it all up and that’s what I have complaints about!”

Zem looked over to the other Watchers. The three of them looked exhausted and oddly enough, covered in stray bits of hay for some reason. They would have looked more, but then they were shoved into a chair and papers were spread out in front of them. “Alright, explain.”

Zem tilted their head before looking over the papers. It was a few lists of plans, but specifically on top were a few of the files they specifically wrote up for each of the subjects. “About these? We wanted a thorough look at each of the players being included to see which biome would fit them best, mob beings and affected alike.”

Everyone jumped as Xelqua slammed his hands on the table. “That’s not what I’m talking about. Look them over again!”

Rolling their eyes, Zem looked down again. At first nothing jumped out, but then they realized there were some pairs layed out. “You pulled out the files of False and Stress… as well as xB and Iskall.”

“That I did. I also pulled the files for Bdoubleo100 and Welsknight because of the special circumstances you put them in.” Then some more files were put down that, based on the markers put on them, were not part of the Scattered Experiment. “You have too much overlap! And you’re prioritizing the stuff people sort of know about over what they don’t. You shoved Cubfan135 into a mineshaft nowhere near any cactus or tumbleweeds, and he doesn’t even need to deal with vultures. I’d allow xBcrafted in the desert as well if you put him close to an oasis or something. Plus we just finished up with the swamp and are working on the birch forests. Not to mention no one is in the savanna. It’s like you didn’t even think this through!”

“Alright, calm down.” Yuslep carefully moved towards Xelqua, who just glared at them. “Or maybe not.”

“We’re still very close to the start. And a few changes so early can’t be that harmful, can they?”

Zem sighed, looking over to Yus briefly before standing from their chair. “To be honest, we just finished discussion with someone else.” Even though Xelqua narrowed his eyes, Zemunis continued. “We were already planning to alter a few things, so if you can prepare what is needed for your new alterations by the time we are ready for our own, then by all means, go ahead. And that means before the next nutshell or whatever they’re calling it now.”

Immediately Xelqua brightened and then gathered up all the files, rushing out of the room and leaving a stray feather or two behind. With him gone, Zem and Yus were able to look at the other Watchers. “So. What happened while we were gone?”

.

.

.

Etho wasn’t entirely convinced he had opened his eyes. After discussing more with Pearl, she started having a bad headache, leaving him on his own. With little else to do, Etho broke some fully grown amethyst crystals and used them to chip away at the geode. He managed to create a hole leading into the cave, but forgot about the monsters that would be on the other side. Before dying, he quickly gathered a few more crystals to block up the hole, but in an obvious enough way Pearl would notice it later, then died to the mobs.

Respawning had left him in a different cave, at least based on how the walls felt, it was probably a cave. There was no light for him to tell, except for maybe a few far off dots of what might have been glow lichen. And even with them, they sometimes seemed to disappear, likely due to something else getting in the way.

Etho was walking carefully, never sure if he was about to walk off a cliff or something. He was listening carefully, expecting to hear a monster or even another hermit, but instead it was quiet. Far too quiet with how dark the place was. But it only took a few more steps for Etho to figure out why.

There weren’t a lot of spongy things in caves. Moss in the lush caves maybe, but then it should be lit up by glowberries. Nothing else really should have been around that would result in the same feeling, but moobloom also weren’t really supposed to be around either. Getting ready to move as quickly as he could, Etho snapped his fingers, watching as a moment or two later, the cave was lit up slightly by a sculk.

Moving away and pulling out his comm, Etho went through the messages again. Xisuma had been killed by the warden plenty, but had no deaths recently. Whether that was because he escaped, or something else, Etho didn’t know. But what he did know was that the Warden was nearby due to the heavy footsteps coming his direction, likely due to his snap.

Though he could sneak around and dodge a few times if it came to it, Etho knew that the Warden didn’t just hunt based on sound, but smell as well, so there was no way he was getting away from this thing alive. So that meant he was on a timer to try and find Xisuma.

Based on the lack of death messages, there was a low chance that Xisuma would be in the area. And the longer since the last death, the further he was likely to be. If Etho had a consistent spawn, he might have been able to find the admin, but instead he had one chance. 

Etho moved as far as he dared from the Warden before worrying it would catch his scent and booked it. He heard the sound of a shrieker before yelling out into the caves, hoping for the best. “Xisuma! If you can hear me, I’m helping the hermits as best I can. I’m cycling through spawns and-“

Before Etho could finish his message, he found his foot caught, leading to him falling over from the sudden forced stop. Then moments later, the Warden caught up, killing him in a single hit. Even after respawning, he was still reeling from the strength of the blow. It wasn’t until some nearby bleating reached his ears that Etho thought to actually look where he respawned. 

Compared to the rest of his respawns, this one was… different. Each of his spawns had always been in some natural generation. The closest change to that had been the odd monuments at each spawn and the bed Grian had gotten ahold of or possibly the woodland mansion since it seemed to have an alteration or two. But this was… a lot different. All the goats on the cliff where he spawned were all stuck in fences, and there were a few torches scattered about, two of them specifically on either side of the start of some stairs leading down. 

Etho carefully descended the stairs, wanting to make sure he didn’t die on the way and get sent who knows where. About halfway down, he noticed a small house set up. It wasn’t really a hermit sized starter base, but this wasn’t the most normal of seasons. And even then, there were a few hermits who would create something like this to start. 

Etho ran through the options. He was focused so much on the build to try and narrow the options down, not wanting a repeat of what happened with Ren if he surprised the hermit inside. But a quick look at the old death messages answered Etho, Doc was the only one knowingly having interacted with the mobs.

Having a creeper explode him was not really on Etho’s list of things he would want to happen, so instead of just walking in, he took his time to knock first, waiting to see if the door would be opened for him. After waiting a few moments, it did indeed open, but instead of Doc, Etho was surprised to see Grum on the other side.

Before Etho could say anything, the bot grabbed his hand, leading him inside. “I’m glad we got the stairs finished up! I was sure you’d end up at Doc’s spawn soon enough. Oh by the way, Doc’s out mining. I’ve been busy farming and chopping wood.”

Etho stayed quiet. He didn’t recall seeing a farm outside, nor any nearby trees nor their foliage decaying. It also didn’t immediately seem to be that there were farms inside, but once Grum started dragging him around to show off the place, there were a pair of farms for crops and trees made in the basement. So at least that was one question answered, but now Etho had a new question in the form of why there were so many torches around. Even if things hadn’t been changed with the way monsters could appear, this was still overkill.

Etho didn’t say anything right away, not wanting to interrupt Grum as he rambled on about what had been happening. Apparently he had only recently paired up with Doc and they had quickly built the starter house as a dirt hut, but had been building it up a bit where there was daylight.

“Any reason why you can’t work in the night? I mean, your respawns are pretty close by.” Etho asked, not knowing why Grum had a bad reaction to the question right away. But the answer to both questions was answered somewhat when Grum took Etho over to one bed in the room. When he first entered, the ninja assumed the Jrum was simply sleeping. But now that he was closer, he could tell that wasn’t the case.

“What happened to them?” Etho asked, looking the robot over. They were made of redstone, so if it were a problem there, he had a chance of fixing it. Unfortunately it didn’t seem to be the case, especially with Grum’s answer.

“He didn’t respawn right. Dad… disappeared, and our previous respawns were only okay because he was around. After we saw that there was a way to send messages in chat, we-“

Etho stopped the bot there. “Wait? The chat is working again?”

Grum shook his head. “No. It’s not. We just used what’s there. Death messages show up, but remember renamed items will have their name shown if they were used to kill someone. A different person that managed to get in here named Geminitay figured it out kinda. Then Jrum and I kinda cheated a renamed snowball… Though maybe that’s what caused it. Either way, respawns might not work for me so I’m stuck inside.”

“Okay. Wait but what about Doc?” Etho asked, now wondering why he wasn’t around, especially if the situation wasn’t the best.

“He’s out mining. We’re getting iron and stone and stuff for a more accurate messaging system. I’m sure not many people are looking at chat since it’s not working, but Impulse is out of his death loop so people will probably notice when it seems like there’s a new one.”

“Good thinking.” Etho complimented the bot, patting their head. “Now can you give me an update on what you’ve noticed going on?”

Grum nodded then actually grabbed a book out of his inventory. “Doc let me use our leather for this because he thought it was easier than fighting with chat every time if I’m busy or something.”

“Right, since you’re sort of just… linked with the chat.”

Grum nodded in agreement before opening up the book. “It still helps to have the stuff not there written up for me too. So like theories or interactions. Like meeting with you is in here. Oh, can I hear some stuff about what you’re doing to add to here? I mean, after I tell you what we’ve been doing, and only if you’re okay with it.”

“Yeah, knowing more means we’re more likely to help everyone out. Including your sibling.”

“Thanks.” Grum smiled, then flipped through the book. “Okay, so right after dad kinda… killed you, we shoved him off the mountain and he went back into bird mode. We had some issues where he didn’t want us in his nest, but we sort of forced our way in there so our joints didn’t freeze.” Then Grum turned the page. “Uh, to sum this part up, that thing that dad kinda killed you over? Well based on what Doc said, one showed up at his spawn the same time the one on the mountain changed for us.”

“Well I know I saw a few at other spawns, so it must mark them.”

Grum quickly scribbled in a note about that, thanking Etho for the information before continuing. “Well the thing changed with a message in a different text, but it said ‘step one, all twenty-eight reach the origin’. But one thing was that it sorta looked like it was going between twenty six and twenty eight. And I know that Jrum and I are here, but it doesn’t list us as being present on the server. Plus there’s the other two, Geminitay and Pearlescentmoon.”

“Yeah, I met Pearl. She’s stuck in a geode. The name isn’t familiar to you?”

Grum tilted his head. “No. Should it be?”

Etho just shrugged. “Apparently she’s an old friend of your dad. But I know he decided to bring you along pretty late and… well all of this happened, so makes sense you might not know.”

“If that’s the case, then someone here might know the other person.”

“I’ll see if I can get the chance to ask around. Not everyone stuck to their spawns and I don’t really know which direction they went in.”

“Yeah, that does kinda make it hard to ask them, huh.”

Before anything else could be said by either one of the pair, both of them looked over to the sound of the door opening, Doc returning from his mining trip. “Well then. Looksss like we have a guessst.”

.

.

.

A lot of thoughts were going through their head after Bdubs left. They considered that Bdubs might not come back unless he died. They considered that Bdubs would tell Scar about the ‘strange person’ that was also at his spawn and Scar would manage to recognize them instead. They worried that even if both of them wanted to come back, they wouldn’t find this place.

Evil Xisuma knew they were only here because they were planning to mess with the hermits themself. A number of them had already packed up, prepping for moving to the next season. Because of that, they were more off guard and vulnerable. Some of those included Iskall, Jevin, Cleo, Ren, and worst of all, Scar. And now Scar essentially held Ex’s life in his hands.

With nothing else to really do but wait, Ex pulled out their comm and read through the messages. Most of them were deaths of course, though there were a few more achievements than before. But they didn’t really care about those. Then they remembered that, duh, they could filter the wall of text, so in a few swipes and taps, the whole thing was condensed down to the death list of just one hermit. “Fall, fall, dragon, magic, dragon, dragon, out of world, dragon, explosion, fall, dragon, fall, enderman, fall, fall, fall, dragon, magic…” the list continued, but by the end, Ex sighed. It looked… okay. What might be there wasn't. At least not yet. There was still time of course, but there being more time could end up being just as bad. If things didn’t change for the better, they would start changing for the worse.

“So you’re Xannes?” A voice asked, making Ex jump, both from the suddenness as well as the unfamiliarity with the name. Either way, the jump caused them to slip off of the gateway thing and start falling into the void. They panicked more from that, watching as Scar didn’t immediately go after them, as well as knowing if the void killed them, their brother would know they were here. Everyone would. And Scar and Bdubs would know who ‘Xannes’ actually was.

Not wanting that to happen, Xannes started wrestling with the borrowed armor, hoping maybe, just maybe, if they could do it before reaching the void’s death point-.

Just as suddenly as Scar’s voice had appeared, Scar himself had grabbed onto Ex’s arm and pulled them up, the hacker nearly falling from the hermit's grip from the whiplash of the momentum change. But he held on, slowly helping them through the end sky.

“Hey, sorry about that. I didn’t realize I would scare you that bad. Took me a bit to find where you were.”

“Uh, thanks.” EX said nervously, worried speaking would be what got them recognized and then dropped into the void, but when Scar gave no reaction, they sighed in relief.

“No problem. Now before you get confused, we’re heading over to an end city I saw from where I was stuck. I figured I can fly fine, but you and Bdubs can’t. And he doesn’t want elytra at all.”

Evil scoffed, “Oh really? I think it would be important for him. Using one of those means if he does end up falling into the void again, he can use it to glide back to land and us on the loop without the worry of fall damage.”

Scar listened, then almost immediately agreed as Ex thought it over. Their bullshit had actually made sense, and they didn’t have to explain that they actually hate wearing elytra with a passion. And by the time Scar suggested also looking for a second elytra, Evil recalled the loot tables of the end cities from their brother’s various tests and the fact that so many of them had iron or diamond tools. If any of those were pickaxes, well now they could collect blocks and cross the large gaps between the islands. 

From the various excuses, Scar ended up asking if Xannes was just as scared of flying as Bdubs was right now, and though that wasn’t the case and Ex wanted to refute the claim, if it meant they weren’t forced to wear an elytra, they weren’t going to actively complain. Well, they would complain in their head at the very least.

The End City wasn’t too bad. Well, it was pretty bad from having no gear, but EX still had a knife from Bdubs and Scar could fly. Scar carried Ex up close to the ship before letting the helsmit drop to the deck. Evil stabbed the shulker sitting at the stern before rushing down below deck, swiping the brewing stand and potions on the way. Making quick work of the shulker down there, they grabbed the elytra and opened up the chests and pulled out loot. They threw on some diamond leggings with protection and curse of binding, but taking off armor wasn’t too much of a concern.

Though not everything was important, seriously, when would beetroot seeds be useful with no dirt around, EX and Scar grabbed everything they could from the ships and city chests. To keep from dying and being found out, EX downed one of the health potions, but by the end they had a shulker box for each one of them. Plus, just like they had expected, there were a few pickaxes in the chests, meaning the group didn’t need to rely on flight to reach the center island.

Meeting back up with Bdubs, Scar and EX gave him some loot as well as the wings. He initially rejected them before EX gave their reasoning, leaving him to at least put the elytra in his inventory for now and a regular chestplate on otherwise. Following that, all three of them took out pickaxes and started mining, gathering blocks to start bridges towards the main island, towards the dragon and TFC, only Evil the one worried about how many dragons they might have to deal with when the time came.

.

.

.

Wels couldn’t help but side eye his evil counterpoint once or twice. They had created a path to a delta to work on gathering stone, but while he was doing just that, Helsknight was merely standing nearby, watching Wels’ progress. “Are you planning to help at all?”

“Oh trust me. I’m helping.” Hels replied, changing from just standing around to leaning against a wall of basalt. “Between the two of us, you’re in a more… how do I put it? Fragile state. You’ve become a hybrid, which could cause issues since we don’t know how far that’s going to go, what exactly is causing it, and if it’s affecting your mind. Plus you’ve barely gotten a chance to work in the nether with how you keep dying.”

“Alright, well you could still do more than standing around and watching me.”

“I’m not just watching you. I’m not sure if you really took the time to notice, but we don’t have a respawn anchor yet. That base we’re living in is my spawn point, so I don’t have to worry about that. You, on the other hand, are stuck in the middle of that forest. So sure I’m watching you, but I’m also watching to make sure no stray piglins or hoglins or anything else wanders in here and tries killing you. And if they do, then I attack to chip them down if not completely kill them, giving you time to block yourself up until I get back.”

“So you’re babysitting me?” Wels asked with a bit of a huff, getting a little more annoyed as Hels nodded.

“Pretty much, yeah. Oh calm down, if you stay alive long enough, maybe you’ll prove you don’t need me breathing down your neck.”

“I’ll have you know I’m perfectly capable.”

“After all your deaths? I doubt it. And even then, I want to make sure my ticket home is safe.”

Wels paused at that. “How do you know that I’m really part of the way to get out of this place?”

“Well it seems obvious.” Hels replied with a roll of his eyes. “You look at the list of people here and just about everyone on there is a hermit. I, on the other hand, am absent from the list as well as Evil Xisuma due to some trickery of theirs. There also seem to be two others unlisted due to a death message involving the two of them. I could assume one of them was a nametagged monster, but the names as well as the collective situation implies differently.”

When Hels started talking about the two others, Wels looked through his comm to see what was being referred to. “Oh, Grumbot and Jrumbot. Mumbo and Grian built them last season. I guess they brought those two along here somehow.”

“Either way, they aren’t listed, so as it stands, I will be assuming that you, the hermits, and the two unknown listed names are going to collectively be responsible for whatever escape eventually comes.”

That statement did seem obvious enough that Wels couldn’t argue, instead going back to mining blackstone. That was, until both of their comms started buzzing like crazy. “Is someone stuck in a deathloop again?”

“Hmm, not exactly.” Hels replied, seeming to actually be reading the death messages with how his eyes moved over the screen. Now curious, Wels paused his mining again to pull his own comm out, reading through the messages.

DocM77 was slain by Etho using [You can use renamed weapons for messages] DocM77 was slain by Etho using [Grum&Jrum with me, Grian missing, Jrum broken] DocM77 was slain by Etho using [Etho looping to different people’s spawns] DocM77 was slain by Etho using [Joe&Beef at 0,0 spawn says Etho. Meet there?] DocM77 was slain by Etho using [Looping messages so people will read chat]

And then just as the last message said, the five different deaths looped for a while, up until a new one entered the fray.

VintageBeef was slain by joehillssays using [We are at spawn. Everyone /needs/ to get here] VintageBeef was slain by joehillssays using [Grian missing makes sense with what Joe knows]

MumboJumbo was slain by Vindicator using [Grian’s been with me but isn’t acting right] MumboJumbo was slain by Vindicator using [other note: allied with illagers who know somethin] MumboJumbo was slain by Vindicator using [Grian may also have some information]

DocM77 was slain by Etho using [If you don’t know, beds work for respawn]

Zedaph was slain by Tangotek using [Thanks for the heads up. All hybrids have issues?]

DocM77 was slain by Etho using [Yes for Doc, Etho says Ren probably.]

Zedaph was slain by Tangotek using [And new hybrids? Impy has become guardian hybrid]

VintageBeef was slain by joehillssays using [Joe having issues. Not sure if hybrid related]

DocM77 was slain by Etho using [Grum says likely worsened by respawn.] DocM77 was slain by Etho using [Stopping after this because of it]

MumboJumbo was slain by Vindicator using [Respawn= hybrid>feral, loop4nonhybrid>becomehybrid]

“Well, that explains you then.” Hels spoke up, pulling Wels’ mind from the death messages. “Dying to hoglins over and over is turning you into one of them. Though it was pretty obvious if you thought about it. Think about it more and more deaths will make it even worse.”

“I’m guessing this is your way of pointing out that protecting me is even more of a good idea now.”

“Well you said it, not me.” Hels taunted, leaving Wels to grumble and go back to mining, neither of them noticing one last message.

.

.

.

The moment he had mentioned the possible upcoming changes, Xelqua watched as Mumbo raced off to work with another axe in the anvil. Sure he could warn the other players, but all of them would still get their spawns reset to make things fair. A death later and Mumbo was back in his respawning room, not even looking to Xelqua as he rushed off towards the library. Probably to try and find some way to stop it.

Well, it would be stopped if Xel didn’t do what the other Watchers required for the update, so he went off in his own direction to start work on that. Away from the respawn room, a training center of sorts had been set up replacing a fighting ring. It was where Mumbo was learning magic and testing some redstone, so it was otherwise unoccupied, leaving plenty of room to test some builds.

Xelqua wasn’t sure how long he had been building, but eventually he was interrupted, the sun having moved a bit and Mumbo having returned with some books under his arm and a few papers in his hand. “Er, Gr- I mean, Xelqua? You mentioned something about an update of sorts to the whole experiment, yes?”

The Watcher nodded. Of course he had. He might have been building for a while, but he was sure he hadn’t been long enough for Mumbo to forget. “Yes, and?”

“Well, I’m hoping in the long run it will actually be helpful for that update.” That made Xelqua perk up. He expected Mumbo would be upset if anything, not so willing to help. “Um, looking through the books, maybe this might all work.” And he held the papers in his hand out, stumbling a bit as he stepped forward to hand them off. “Sorry about that. I… hmm I am feeling a bit tired. I barely remember actually walking up here.”

Xelqua took the papers and quickly looked them over. It was all very nice and thorough. “Oh yes this is going to do nicely!” and then he looked over the papers to see the state Mumbo was in. His energies didn’t seem exhausted, though that might have just been unused magic since he was still unwilling to use that. But otherwise he looked disheveled and seemed to barely be keeping himself up.

With a huff, Xelqua stuffed the papers in his inventory and picked Mumbo up. Mumbo complained a bit, but was too weak to fight it as he was carried to his respawn room and shoved on top of the wool bed, followed by being ordered to sleep. He barely fought after that, reluctantly closing his eyes and obviously trying to sleep, letting Xelqua leave to update the other Watchers on how he already had things all planned out.

After that, the warning would come, and it would all begin again. More or less.

[noteguk]

for science | jhs | m

— summary; in which Hoseok hears through the grapevine that you give one of the best blowjobs ever, and he needs to test it to be sure. 

— contents and warnings; blowjob (duh), dirty talk, praising and stupid pet names, cum eating, deepthroating (the oc has no gag reflex), Hoseok finds heaven, kind of crack? Idk don’t take this seriously, college!au, hoseok x reader (with a mention of past Jimin x reader), studying sessions being interrupted in the name of science 

— words; 5,1k

Requested by anon! 

Hoseok could be kind of clueless when it came to some science-related things (and his high school biology teacher could attest to that), but one thing he knew very well was the scientific method. All that hypothesis-testing-stuff, or whatever the hell that was (okay, maybe he didn’t know it that well) had taken him out of some trouble in the past. It helped him see some of his decisions in a more experimental light, avoiding the terrible Olympic-somersault-into-conclusions that had gotten so many of his friends into awkward situations. And it shouldn’t even be said that he took quite a bit of pride in that — it made him feel very intelligent and he would take any stroke to the ego that he could get. 

So, when Jimin got a bit too tipsy and started babbling on about how you gave him the best blowjob of his life, Hoseok was, at the very least, cautiously skeptical. 

“You’re such a drama queen.” Hoseok rolled his eyes before chugging down a bit more of his beer. He was nowhere near as intoxicated as Jimin was, and he wasn’t planning on changing that. It was a Wednesday night, for fuck’s sake. He had to leave some thrill to the end of the week. “It probably was like… alright. Good, even. But the best one ever? Please.” 

“It was so much more than alright, dude.” Jimin threw his head over the couch’s back, looking like he just got washed up on the shore. His hair was a mess of clear strands, exploding on his head like a failed science fair experiment. “It was the best suck of my liiiiife. I wish she didn’t hate me so I could have that again.” 

He scoffed. Hoseok had enough filter left in him to avoid telling Jimin that the reason why you hated him was entirely his fault — what did he expect from three weeks of ghosting? Besides, if the head was that good, he would surely stick around for just a bit longer than two months. “Sure. Like the time that you almost died riding a roller coaster.” 

“Hey. I almost did.” Jimin’s eyes opened, presenting his friend with a dazed-out, unfocused brand of frustration. He was getting tired of not being taken seriously — didn’t Hosoek know that alcohol makes you more honest? He wasn’t making things up. Not when they were as serious as the well-being of his dick, or actual death. “It was some Final Destination bullshit, I’m telling you. Pieces of metal flying and everything.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waved it off, leaning closer to Jimin so he could take the almost-empty can of beer from his clumsy hands, and placed it on the center table. “I think you’ve had enough alcohol for tonight, man. You have a class at ten tomorrow.” 

“I’m serious, dude,” Jimin pressed on. It was past eleven and Hoseok only wanted to sleep, but the other boy was clearly clueless about the lack of mutual interest in that conversation. “Aren’t you two friends or something?”

“Kind of. It’s weird,” Hoseok answered. You two had lingered in a hazy friendship space for a long time now, and he didn’t know exactly how to explain your relationship. He didn’t really consider you two close by any means, but you weren’t strangers or casual friends either. To be honest, he hadn’t thought too much about it until that very moment. “Why? What does that have to do with anything?” 

Jimin sighed, fumbling against the sofa. Much to Hoseok’s delight, he was starting to get sleepy as well. “You could ask her to suck you off,” he mumbled, “then you can feel it for yourself.” 

He laughed at that, unable to believe what he was hearing. “Jimin, you’re out of your mind if you think that’s not gonna backfire.” 

He blinked heavily. “Hm? Why?” 

Hoseok blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “We aren’t that close, and we haven’t done anything remotely sexual before this. It would be super creepy.”

“That’s not true,” Jimin spoke lazily, as if the words were starting to get hard to find. There was a pause so long after his sentence that Hoseok thought his roommate had fallen asleep. “I know you guys made out like at the beginning of the semester. Taehyung told me so.”

He was going to murder Taehyung. “It wasn’t like that. We were both drunk and it was super awkward afterwards.” Hoseok got up from the couch, leaving Jimin to groan and spread out his legs over the cushions. “Listen, I’m glad you two had fun, and I’m sorry you ruined it. But I’m not gonna ask ____ to suck me off just so I can know if you’re being dramatic or not.” 

Jimin smirked wickedly — or at least tried to, because his lack of facial control wasn’t doing him any favors. “Whatever you say,” he teased, “but I think you’re curious.” 

Truth was: Hoseok was beyond curious. The cogs in his head had started to move, and his brain was evoking lewd images of you so fast that he could barely follow. He would be pretending if he said that he never saw you under that light before, but, after the mess that was your makeout session, he had forced himself to jump into the friendzone before he managed to make things worse. 

Hoseok liked you very much, even if you two weren’t particularly close. He enjoyed spending time with you, he found you funny, smart, and way out of his league. But he wasn’t delusional enough to believe that you would actually say yes to sucking him off, especially so out of the blue. 

“I’m not curious,” Hoseok lied through his teeth, and he wanted to change the subject so much that his head was starting to hurt. “You’re gonna sleep here?” 

“Hm… yes… the couch is very comfortable.” Jimin closed his eyes and adjusted his body on the furniture. His baggy shirt was already halfway through his stomach and his pants had ran up to his waist, but the man didn’t seem to notice. “You don’t know what you’re missing out on.”

Hoseok rolled his eyes, moving towards the door. He needed to get Jimin some blankets, because the other was surely not getting up for the rest of the night. It was bad enough to babysit him for those few hours of intoxication, but infinitely worse to make him chicken soup if he got sick. Been there, done that. “I’m sure the couch is great.”

Jimin’s voice was soft and sleepy when he spoke up again. Hoseok was already in the corridor, and he almost didn’t hear him when he said, “I’m not talking about the couch.” 

Hoseok went to Jimin’s bedroom and grabbed his pillow and the blanket from his undone bed. Meanwhile, scenarios ran wild inside his head, having you as the main star. He didn’t know what was taking over him, but he wasn’t so quick to ignore Jimin’s story. Hoseok was faced with a fantastic scenario of a perfect blowjob, and the idea that it was so close to him was making his pulse quicken. Again: it would be absurd to ask you to do that, regardless of the motive behind it, and he knew that it would be awful for your already-strange friendship. 

No, he could never do that. He would not. 

But like… what if it worked, and you magically accepted his request? And what if, by some wonderful moment, some millennial alignment of planets, Jimin wasn’t actually being hyperbolic and you actually had the ability to give incredible blowjobs? Could he really let it pass without giving it a shot? 

He could see it as a scientific experiment, Hoseok thought, as a way to prove a hypothesis. It couldn’t hurt if he just— 

Oh my god, dude, shut the fuck up and forget about this. 

Coming back to his senses, Hoseok strutted out of his roommate's bedroom and walked toward the living room. By the time he came back with the blanket and the pillow, Jimin was already deep asleep.

~ 

Against his best efforts, that conversation remained stuck to the back of his mind for the next two weeks. Hoseok would find himself going back and forth on the idea of you having some strange, Marvel-worthy superpower when it came to sucking dick and, worst of all, the idea that his skepticism was making him miss out on it. Jimin was exaggerated when it came to, well, pretty much everything, but that didn’t mean that he would be wrong about that specific subject. That would be a logical fallacy, and that was also something that Hoseok knew very well. Bless his late nights on Reddit for that. 

Yet as the days moved along, and his curiosity was slowly turning into desire, he was forced to revisit the infamous night between the two of you, the one that Jimin had so mercilessly mentioned. Thinking back on it, it wasn’t surprising that your overconsumption of alcohol, added to the way that you two had grown close (both physically and mentally) had ended up with Hoseok laying on top of you, kissing the soul out of you and fondling your breasts in the middle of a party. It wasn’t the most dignified moment of either of your lives, but, well, it happened. 

One way or another, the night didn’t move forward. Even if Hoseok already had a tent in his pants, you two were far too intoxicated to consent, and were quick to fall asleep before the situation could escalate. Bottom line: Hoseok woke up with your tit in his hand, a nightmarish hangover, and the decision that the You-Subject would have to stay on hold for some time. 

And on hold it stayed. For an entire semester. And it would’ve remained that way if Jimin’s stupid mouth hadn’t started talking. 

So after two weeks of self-inflicted psychological torture, Hoseok slipped a hangout invitation amidst your texts. If you saw any second intentions behind his “haven’t seen you in awhile, wanna hangout? ;)” you didn’t let it show. The problem was that you weren’t really in the mood to go out, especially since you had a big exam coming up, so Hoseok ended up convincing you that he would stay quiet if you let him go over to your place. 

It was a bit harder not to notice the desperation in his proposal that time, but you ended up agreeing. Your thought process was that the boy would eventually realize that his hangout attempt was ridiculous and that he would leave you to study by yourself, and the two of you would reschedule that odd friendship session to when you weren’t drowning in textbooks. 

The problem was that you had been stupid enough to believe that your friend would actually keep his mouth shut. 

Hoseok was seated on the edge of your bed for so long that he was sure that his asscheeks were permanently imprinted on your sheets. Because he hated himself, he kept eyeing the digital clock to your right, and he was certain that he had spent the last fifty two minutes and thirty three seconds staring at the back of your head and trying to come up with a casual way to ask for a blowjob. 

He had tried a few times already, and each one constituted of him being unable to finish his sentence, instead looking at you like BooBoo The Fool until you turned back around to face your disorganized desk, sighing and trying to concentrate on your work. 

All things considered, he couldn’t actually believe he had escalated Jimin’s sailor tale to that point. He was out of his mind, that was a fact, and he had absolutely no clue how you would react once he (if he) found the words to ask you to sacrifice your mouth for science. 

God, he was an idiot. 

He cleared his throat and got ready to try one more time. “So… I…” 

You sighed heavily and turned around on the chair. “Hobi, this is the fifth time you’re starting a sentence and not finishing it,” you said, annoyed. “Can you tell me what the problem is? I have a test in two days and you promised you wouldn’t interrupt me if you came over.” 

“I’m sorry,” he didn’t like feeling like a kid being scolded, even if he kind of deserved that. Hoseok guessed it would be better to just take off the band-aid before he made an even bigger fool out of himself. “Let me just, like, explain the context of this. Otherwise it’s going to be even more strange.” 

Dropping your pen, you fully swirled the chair around, crossing your hands over your legs. He wasn’t expecting your complete attention anytime soon, and the seriousness in your stare made his courage falter for a second. It was such a stupid idea, you’d just end up hating him like you did Jimin. “As long as you make it quick,” you told him.  

Hoseok hesitated, running one hand through his hair. “Yeah, okay, so… like, a few weeks ago I was talking to Jimin,” he started, watching your face for any signal of an expression — confusion, disgust, anything. But he found nothing. “We were drunk, and he started talking about the time that you two were together. Like, sexually.” 

You blinked, unfazed. “And?”

“And… he told me that you give, like, the best blowjobs in history,” the words left his mouth before he could fully digest them. This time, he got a reaction out of you — a light raise of your eyebrows. “And, no offense, but I didn’t believe him. You know how extra he is about some stuff. Most stuff.” 

There was a moment of silence as you waited for him to go on, but Hoseok was too busy swallowing his thoughts down and feeling like he would collapse at any given moment. You sighed. “So what? You wanted to tell me that you don’t believe in my blowjob abilities? That’s all? Can I go back to studying now?” 

“No, that’s…” Now, things were starting to get complicated. Just take off the band-aid, Hoseok, don’t chicken out now. “I wanted to know if you could show me. Like, if you could suck me off. So I could... confirm that hypothesis.”

Every part of his brain was suddently hyperaware of how fucking stupid he just sounded. He had expected that another thick silence would follow, but his heart almost leaped out of your chest when you started laughing at him — like, full-chest, eyes closing, head rolling back laughing. “Are you serious?” You asked, taking one hand to cover your mouth before, at last, bursting out again. He felt like his ego was being stabbed with a rusty nail. “I can’t believe you, Hoseok. Took you all this time just to ask me if I could suck you off? For science?”

His mouth felt like it was full of cotton and he had to clear his throat before he found the force to answer you. “Yeah, I mean, only if you’re comfortable with it, of course,” he struggled to say, each word morphing into the next. His stomach had frozen up and the flight or fight response was starting to kick in. Had he really been that much of an idiot? When did his cock start dictating his words? “I… I know this is like, super creepy. I’m sorry. We can forget this ever happened and I’ll never talk to you again. I shouldn’t have said anything.” 

Suddenly sad, he waited as you settled back on the chair, wiping a small tear from the corner of your eye before you stared at him. There was still a smirk crawling up your lips, and he felt like the world was collapsing all around him  as the silence expanded around the two of you. He looked at the digital clock: it had taken him precisely three minutes to ruin everything. 

He sighed, shoulders falling. “Do you hate me? Why are you so quiet?” 

You bit down on your lip, your eyes narrowing as you took his form in. Hoseok was hot: point blank. He was also nice, and respectful enough to realize that he might have overstepped a few lines with his request — and, even if you couldn’t really understand it, you also weren’t bothered by it. And you certainly didn’t hate him. In a way, you were almost flattered. You would’ve been more if the comment had come from anyone else but your Danny Phantom ex. But that was a different story. 

The entire situation was just too funny to let it go. And, besides, you really wouldn’t mind sucking Hoseok off. It wasn’t as if you had never thought about that before. 

“I’m... considering it,” you told him, watching as his face lit up in a mixture of confusion and joy. He looked like a kid seeing Santa for the first time. “If you promise to shut up and let me study, I’ll do it. And if you agree to never talk about it again.” 

Hoseok blinked profusely, his mind short circuiting. “For real?” 

“Yeah.” You raised from your chair, walking closer to your bed. Hoseok swallowed hard and leaned back, placing his hands on the mattress for support. “But do me a favor: if it’s not that good, don’t tell me. It’ll hurt me.” 

“Yeah, alright.” He swallowed dry, every neuron in his brain trying to grasp what the fuck had just happened. His mind was the Spongebob office being set on fire, and he suddenly didn’t know how to deal with the anticipation booming in his chest. “I’m... not hard yet, though.” 

“It’s okay.” You kneeled in front of him, placing your hands on his inner thighs and slightly pushing them apart. Hoseok quickly got the cue, and opened a bit more so you could comfortably place yourself between them. “Just... relax,” your voice was almost a whisper then, and he felt his soul trying to leave him. That was insane. “Let me take care of you.”  

Your words managed to make him relax a bit, then he tensed all the way back at the feeling of your hands fumbling with his button. His breath hitched as you pulled the zipper down, fingers hooking on the edge of his pants before tugging them down his thighs. 

He felt exposed as his pants fell like a puddle around his ankles, his tongue coming out to wet his lips as you leaned in. Hosoek felt like he was dreaming when you started nibbling at his skin, kissing and licking his inner thighs as you slowly made your way closer to his aching member. 

“I can’t believe this is happening,” he barely got out before sighing, the tingles of your caresses on his skin shooting directly towards his cock, already semi-hard. 

You flicked your eyes up at him, humming against his thigh muscles. You were now so dangerously close to his underwear that he thought he would lose consciousness. “Were you daydreaming about it or something?” You teased. 

Maybe in a different position, he would’ve lied about it. But the truth came out before he could hold it back. “Ever since Jimin told me that, yeah,” he said. 

“Hmm… hope I live up to the expectation, then,” you purred, looking up at him with those doll-like eyes. Hoseok suddenly felt like he was losing his balance, his entire body burning in desire and expectancy. You looked like another one of his horny daydreams, but you were kneeling right there, in arms reach, and he didn’t know how he would deal with what was about to ensue. 

Your mouth was hovering above his clothed cock before he could notice and, delicately, you leaned down to place a kiss on it. The touch was tender, almost numb with the fabric standing between you two, and yet Hoseok shivered, biting down on his lip as one of your hands enveloped his erection. He watched, mesmerized, as you started lazily stroking him through his underwear, leaning your head to the side so you could place heavy kisses on him, at times giving his tip a few kitten licks until it was covered by a thin layer of your saliva. 

The sensation left him on edge, silently begging for more. By the time you moved back so you could undress him, Hoseok was a mess of shallow breaths and heavy swallows; his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as pleasure started to build up at the corners of his perception. Biting back a moan of relief, Hoseok raised his hips as you slowly pulled his underwear downward, allowing for his cock to spring free from its confinement. You had done a good job teasing him, because it was already fully hard when it bounced against his abdomen, red-tipped and leaking. 

His gaze oscillated between your face and his cock, watching for any reaction as you took one hand to his length, squeezing him firmly. “Fuck,” he let out a grunt, his overwhelmed body responding to the smallest of touches. 

You smirked at his reaction, taking a quick glimpse at his devastated features before moving back to what you were doing. Hoseok was so cute, you thought, liking the way he was so responsive. 

A shudder ran up Hoseok’s body when your tongue came out between your lips, placing delicate licks on his base. He loved the feeling of your warm muscle against his hardened member, his mind growing eager as you began tracing a path upwards, flattening your tongue against him. His breathing was ragged by the time that you reached his crown, a hum escaping your throat as you lazily swirled your tongue around his tip, covering him with your saliva. 

You took your time caressing his slit with your mouth, waiting until he was cursing and panting before you finally wrapped your lips around him. At first, you only took his tip in your mouth, sucking so slowly that Hoseok whined and buckled his hips from the bed, trying to make you move faster. 

Wordlessly, you simply placed your palm against his thigh and pressed him back down. Even if that was the last thing he wanted to do, Hoseok accepted your order and settled back against the mattress, grunting as you continued to tease him. 

“Please, put it all in,” he begged, starting to lose his trail of thought. “This is torture.” 

And maybe another day you would have taken a bit more time torturing him, but, that afternoon, you were kind of in a rush to finish studying. So you complied. 

“Oh, fuck, fuck.” His eyes shut and his head was thrown back as you fully sank down on his cock, your tongue flat against him. Before he could stop himself, his hand flew to your hair, yanking at the strands as you moved back up, your hand pumping the parts of him that you couldn’t reach. 

“God, your mouth feels so great…” He moaned, back arching as you reached his tip once again, licking it before sinking back down — you took him just a bit deeper that time, and the motion didn’t pass by unnoticed. He was really starting to believe Jimin, and he wondered if maybe he should’ve been more worried about the entire rollercoaster situation. “Ah, that’s it. Just like that.” 

You moaned around him, the vibrations making him cry out, desperate. Hoseok couldn’t hold himself back from moving closer to the edge of the bed, his other hand clenching your bedsheets between his fingers as you continued to swallow his cock like it belonged in the hot confinement of your mouth. 

“Oh— oh my god, baby,” he grunted, pulling at the strands of your hair. His mind was starting to get hazy, his chest fluttering in a mess of sighs and heavy breaths every time that you sank down on his member; every time you flicked your tongue against his sentitive slit or pumped his base. “That’s really good, you take my cock so well.”

You looked up just to see the mess that Hoseok had turned into. With his mouth parted and eyes glazed over, he looked like he was about to fall apart at any second. He was watching you in complete awe, his eyebrows falling to form a beautiful frown of concentration; tongue coming out to lick his lips. He was so fucked out that you felt yourself getting riled up by his image, a pool of wetness accumulating between your thighs. 

“You look so pretty like this.” He exhaled, unaware of his own words. Hoseok was too busy following your swollen, redden lips as they wrapped around his member, your cheeks hollowing after you sucked him with all that you had. Even the small amount of droll around your mouth was enough to make him throb in your hold, a grunt escaping him. “With these — fuck — those pretty lips around my cock, shit. I could watch you forever.” 

You hummed around his member again at his words, the vibrations shooting directly at his core, where a rising heat had dangerously grown stronger, signaling his upcoming orgasm. Hoseok loved the way you actually looked like you were enjoying yourself, moaning and whimpering around his cock as you took all of him in your mouth, eyes closing every time he throbbed inside you. The eagerness in which you took him in, like you were starving for his cock, was one of the filthiest images that Hoseok had ever seen, and it was one that he knew would haunt his dreams for the years to come. 

When you removed his cock from your mouth with a dirty wet sound, Hoseok was about to complain before he saw you licking down his length, one of your hands holding his cock away from your face as your tongue started to play with his balls. It was an odd feeling, but not an unwelcomed one, and it kept him on edge for a little while longer while you played with him. 

With a timid whimper, you looked up at him as you licked your way back up to his tip. The image was so hot that he almost fainted, a deep moan escaping his throat when you took him back inside your delicious mouth. 

And the truth was clearer than Hoseok had ever expected: Jimin was right. 

“Fuck, babe, how did you get this good?” Hoseok grunted, trying his best to focus on the picture-perfect image of your lips wrapped tightly around his throbbing cock. He could tell that his release was starting to build up at an alarming rate, his thighs growing weaker every time you took him inside you. “Oh my- Ngh! Fuck! Oh my god!” 

Hoseok’s mind was wiped clean when he felt his tip hitting the back of your throat, his hips buckling up as your throat clenched around him. He was pretty sure he was in heaven then — if he focused, he could hear angels singing all around him — , his pleasure overtaking every cell of his body as you continued sucking the soul out of him. 

“Holy fuck, do that again,” he begged, his voice much higher than before. You didn’t need to be asked twice, because, within a second, he was crying out at the feeling of your throat wrapping around his cock one more time; his hands holding tightly to the roots of your hair. The only reason why Hoseok hadn’t started fucking your mouth yet was because he wanted to have you in control, giving him the best head of his life without any interruption. “Fuck, fuck— Baby, you’re so fucking good at this, fuck.”

There was a vague raising of his hips to meet your movements, making him hit the back of your throat again and again, the lewd sounds you were making filling the room. Nothing in his life had ever compared to that instant, he had ever felt a pleasure as great as he did at that point, and he knew it was about to snap. 

“God, I’m gonna cum,” he sobbed, finally closing his eyes and letting the pleasure take over. “Fuck, you’re so good, I’m gonna—“ 

Hoseok filled your mouth with his cum, dripping down your throat when you swallowed around him. His head was spinning and his muscles were trembling, and that time he was unable to hold himself back from thrusting up against your mouth, trying to prolong that divine sensation for as long as he could before, at last, collapsing against the mattress with a final, shaky moan. 

He barely heard you when you got up to your feet, his mind floating above his body as he tried to get himself back together. With the little force that he still had inside him, Hoseok leaned on his elbows and stared at you like you were made of gold. “Fuck, ____.” He breathed out, and the only thing he could say was, “What the fuck?” 

You giggled at his reaction, thumb cleaning a bit of cum that had painted the corner of your mouth. “I appreciate your feedback,” you teased, pointing over your shoulder, to where your desk stood, forgotten. “Now that you have your answer, can I study in peace?” 

“Y-Yeah, sure,” he struggled to say. “I’ll... stay quiet.” 

You smiled brightly. “Thanks!” 

He thought about thanking you right back for giving him the best orgasm of his life, but he thought that would make everything much more pathetic. So he didn’t. 

Hoseok eventually found the motivation within him to put his cock back inside his underwear, clumsily pulling his pants back up. He found himself in the same position he was before everything went down: dumbfounded, staring at the back of your head as you worked on your textbook. The red numbers on the clock told him that just ten minutes had passed, and yet his life had completely changed. 

All that he wanted was to return the favor — it was the fair exchange, after all. Hoseok sat up at the edge of the bed and spoke up, filled by a newfound courage. “Wait. Don’t you want me to take ca—”

“Shut the fuck up, Hoseok.” 

His mouth fell shut and his courage deflated just as quickly. Maybe another time.

[lepusrufus]

Double edged scalpel ch.6

ch.1 ch.2 ch.3 ch.4 ch.5

Summary: It's backstory time!

Mandatory warning since this is not a usual thing on my blog so I think a separate warning would be useful, there will be talk of past abuse and alcohol abuse.

----

"Wakey wakey," came the gruff voice from just outside her bedroom door.

It was slightly muffled but more than enough to make her jolt awake, muscle memory taking over the remnants of sleep. She only had one minute to be out the door. It was more than enough though, her routine perfected over years. Get out of bed. Put socks on. Get shoes. Grab the duffel bag. She slept dressed anyways, ready to go at any time.

Or not?

Where were her clothes?

Nevermind that she had time to put something on. Just grab a shirt and pants from the dresser.

Hurried steps took her over the plush carpet. Wasn't it supposed to be a solid grey? Had her mother swapped it for one of their fancier rugs?

That didn't matter right now. Clothes. She needed clothes. When she got to her dresser she stood there, frowning at the bookshelf that now took its place. She didn't even remember acquiring the tomes in front of her, most of them old and with unfamiliar trinkets surrounding them. That's not how her bedroom was arranged. Why wasn't anything in its place? Was Alex playing a prank on her? No, he wouldn't do that.

Time was almost up and she needed some goddamn clothes and to get out and her head was starting to spin-

"Nicole?"

Her eyes snapped back to the bed she had so hastily vacated, Cassandra looking at her concerned.

From the room's entrance came another familiar voice. Bela. "I only wanted to let you know that Daniela wants to go for a hunt tomorrow." Her eyes were averted and as soon as the words left her lips, she turned and shut the door behind her, not waiting for an answer from her sister.

Confusion mixed in with dizziness, but Nicole let out a quiet oh when she fully realized where she was. Cassandra's bedroom. They came here last night and fell asleep. And she was only wearing underwear.

She went to sit on the edge of the bed, head resting in her hands to try alleviate the fog in her brain. She probably looked like hell, but that was the least of her concerns right now.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Came the uncharacteristically soft voice of Cassandra, who had moved from her spot under the blankets and was gently rubbing her back.

"Uh, nothing," Nicole replied, as if she didn't look ready to puke.

Cassandra only pursed her lips and frowned. "You looked like you simultaneously saw a ghost and were ready to fight a ghost."

She swallowed thickly and forced out a laugh. "Oh are we at "tragic backstory" relationship level now?" It was at best a pathetic attempt to change the subject and at worst annoying.

When she looked back at the brunette she was still frowning, but not in annoyance. Her golden eyes sparked with concern, scrutinizing the redhead's face and body language for any clue as to what was wrong. It sent a pang of guilt through Nicole's chest. She took a deep breath and leaned back into Cassandra's touch, trying to collect her thoughts. Where does one even begin to explain this whole mess?

"Have you ever wondered why I came here? To the village?"

"...Not really," she admitted.

Nicole took another deep breath, pulling the words from her mouth as if she were pulling out teeth with pliers.

"My dad, he…he had a bit of a weird business. We never knew the details of it, he never told any of us and we knew better than to snoop, but I do know it had something to do with drugs and was highly illegal."

Staying in one place proved itself a pesky little task, so Nicole stood up and started to collect her clothes from the floor and started dressing. Cassandra instead remained in the same spot, listening intently.

"With a job like that you make enemies by default. And that made him paranoid beyond belief. When me and Alex, my older brother, were children it wasn't that bad. Worst thing he would do was lock our bedroom doors and refuse to let us attend public school."

She narrowed her eyes at a wall, still not wanting to meet Cassandra's gaze. Now that she said it out loud, not that bad sounded pretty bad too. Whatever.

"It started going downhill when I was around…" She pursed her lips, trying to make her brain put together some semblance of a timeline. "Twelve. Yeah twelve. He came bursting into our bedrooms at 2 a.m. saying that someone with a gun had gotten into our house and wanted to kill us. We were mortified. I remember my mom holding me and Alex in the backseat crying while my dad drove us to his secluded cabin in the woods."

"And that became a habit of his. He'd have us do these drills every once in a while and then scream at us if we didn't do everything in under a minute."

"That's so fucking stupid," Cassandra spat, golden eyes gleaming with anger.

Nicole started pacing back and forth, desperate for a distraction. "Oh I know. And after a few years of this I made sure to tell him exactly how much I thought it was bullshit."

Finally coming to terms with the lack of something to do while she talked, Nicole gave up and went back to the bed. She sat down by Cassandra's side, though still avoiding her eyes.

"Do you know what getting punched in the face feels like?"

Cassandra's expression contorted into a disgusted grimace. With the hand not on Nicole's back rubbing comforting circles, she dug talons into the soft fabric of a blanket. She didn't really have an answer because frankly she didn't know. Her body reacted very differently to physical harm and the few that could hurt her wouldn't go for a stupid punch to the face. Nicole kept on talking though, not really looking for an answer.

"That shut me up for a bit. Key word a bit. When he woke me up on the night before an important test I was pissed. I just thought fuck it and went upstairs to the library. It took him around twenty minutes to find me and when he did… Well, I regretted some life choices."

"I was so done with being there in that house. Though thankfully my parents went on a business trip the next day and Alex was at a friend's for the weekend. I had the whole house to myself and decided to grab one of my mom's vintage wines and just spend the evening on the couch drinking. And that's how I became an alcoholic at the ripe old age of fifteen." She let out a humorless chuckle at the end.

That day was a blur in her mind. The only thing that she vividly remembered was Alex coming home early and finding her blackout drunk on the couch. At the end of the day though, they were both in the same boat. He just grabbed the bottle from her and started to sip away at the remaining wine. Laughing at each other's hangover the next day was the most fun they'd had in ages so it became a habit for the both of them. Every once in a while they'd go into the wine cellar, pick out a bottle and then go drink it in the attic while they pretended their problems didn't exist. It continued well into their college years. Nicole was barely able to recall doing anything during her years in med school that wasn't being drunk or studying.

She groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. That's not where she meant to go with the story. Cassandra placing a gentle kiss on her shoulder brought her enough comfort to try and wrap it up.

"I guess in a sick ironic way my dad was right in the end though," she subconsciously shifted closer to the brunette and she wasted no time in loosely wrapping her arms around Nicole's waist.

"I was three weeks away from completing my residency when I came home from the lab, only to find my mom in a puddle of blood on the living room floor. My brother was in a similar state in his bedroom. My dad was nowhere to be found but I didn't care. It was his fault," she swallowed the lump in her throat and felt tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

"I just grabbed my documents and a duffle bag with some clothes and ran. Booked the first flight to Romania to come stay at my grandparents'. Oh except they know what my dad is all about! Told me I had an hour to get some rest and be out of their house as they didn't want any trouble with my dad's people."

"I did grab a fuck ton of my dad's cash though so at least hotels weren't an issue," her words were coming out chocked, occasionally interrupted by sniffles. She rapidly whipped a hand across her face. "Have you ever been to Braşov? Old part of the city is quite lovely."

Cassandra grimaced. She didn't want to interrupt, but seeing Nicole in such a state made something in her unbeating heart ache. She gently wiped the trail of tears from her cheeks and placed a kiss on her temple from where she was sitting half behind Nicole. Then, with the softest voice she could muster, "And how did you meet Duke?"

Nicole's eyes widened slightly, apparently having forgotten that detail.

"Oh I stumbled upon his shop one day. I thought he was selling some neat stuff and he was nice so I kept coming back. One thing led to another and when I found out about a place off the map where no one gets in or out without help I thought it would be the perfect place to hide from the people trying to put a bullet through my head." Then she winced slightly. "I was also mildly tipsy when I made that decision."

Cassandra looked a little incredulous. "And he just brought you here?"

"I paid him."

Cassandra's expression turned to what could only be described as disappointed but not surprised. Then her attention went back on the redhead, glossy eyes fixated on the floor. To say she sucked at comforting others was an understatement. Daniela was far more well versed in the art of making others not feel miserable but she was nothing if not stubborn enough to try.

"Listen," she shifted to sit in front of her, hand placed gently on a wet cheek. "If anyone ever dares come near you with the intention of harming you, I'll make them regret every life choice that led them there. You're safe here." She may not be great with her words, but if Cassandra excelled in anything, it was keeping her loved ones safe. Loved one huh.

Nicole leaned into her touch, finally meeting Cassandra's eyes. There was a gentle kind of determination in her golden gaze, accompanied by a fiery rage that, for once in her life, brought comfort as opposed to terror. It came with the knowledge that it wasn't directed at her but at whoever may want to harm her.

She didn't doubt her words. Instead she shifted closer, face nuzzled in the crook of Cassandra's neck and, barely above a whisper, said: "Thank you."

[wh6res]

taeyong — part of the my bloody valentine collection.

prompt. when your soulmate gets a wound or cut, flowers bloom on the same spot in your body.

synopsis. you’re desperate to meet your soulmate. maybe you can put a stop to the flowers stubbornly blooming on your wrists.

warnings. tread cautiously. mentions of mental illness (depression, attempted suicide), swearing, manipulation, implied self-harm, dubious content, forced relationship, unconsensual touching near the end, ty pulling the sadboi agenda

disclaimer. a friendly reminder that i do not, under any circumstance, condone or support any acts like this. this is not love and this is not how a normal relationship should be like. the things i write are all fiction and should be treated as such and if you don’t like it, please do not read it and waste your time hating on it. the 9 members of nct 127 do not act like this in real life and shouldn’t act like this in real life.

by the time you’re graduating high school, you’re used to the sorry glances people sent your way. 

for someone so young, you have more flowers blooming on your skin than any adult. a few small pieces of it blooming in the corner of your cheek, near the jawline. a few of them on your thighs. 

but the most concerning piece is the one on your wrists that are fully covered by the flowers, your skin nowhere to be seen with all the lilies of the valley tainting your skin. 

yet the worse has got to be the summer before senior year. you had been halfway done with the college entrance examination for a local university. your parents said the pain you felt the first time will turn into a mild itch whenever the flowers form on your skin. 

it started small, absentmindedly scratching at something on your neck. initially, you thought it was the heat, your sweat, and the fabric of your clothes irritating the sensitive skin. but when you walked up to the proctor to turn in your exam, you knew that apologetic stare like nothing else—but his eyes had flickered down to your neck. 

when your friends blew up your phone, asking where you are to celebrate, you lied and headed straight back home, head ducked, collars upturned, hiding the lilies of the valley wrapped around your throat like some insignia. 

a year later, you end up studying soulmate theory in university. they say it’s a useless course as there can be no scientific explanation to soulmates. you like thinking you chose the course because of sheer interest but really, you’re just finding an explanation, some external reason that probably bore no results but you trudged forward anyway. 

you’re restless in the pursuit of finding him—or her, you couldn’t care less. the hurt you feel weighs heavy in your heart each time you feel them blooming on your wrist, mind plagued with worry. 

your roommate interrupts your deep thinking as she practically throws herself onto your bed. “i have an idea!” she cheers, determined. “why not part-time in the school clinic? that way if people come in, you can compare their cuts to your flowers.”

“now, you just might be onto something there.”

the hunt for your soulmate still wasn’t easy despite working in the university’s clinic and it only got worse each day. your schedule is killing you, you’re slightly getting behind in some subjects, and you practically live in the library. 

contrary to popular opinions, soulmate theory can be a fucking bitch to study about. what with learning psychology, astrology, and botany all together. it was interesting how all these things can be factors in how people are paired to become soulmates. interesting, but rather complicated in a sense, too. 

they say psychology and astrology dealt with two people’s compatibility. while botany, the meanings of the flowers themselves, was theorized to predict how the soulmate connection will affect their relationship—ultimately, roses were a really, really good sign. 

you have been busy messing up your hair, utterly frustrated and irate—astronomy’s messing with your head and you can’t go a minute without scratching your wrists as the flowers bloomed after the other. 

then something unexpected happened. 

a lanky guy dressed in an all-black ensemble walked into the clinic. well, it was more of a being carried between two guys by the arms rather than walked in. everything about his clothes looked way too big to fit his delicate frame and it hardly looked like it was for fashion style purposes. his skin hugged his body to the bone, eyes sunken, and he looked so frail that a tiny shove would’ve sent him sprawled on the floor. 

his name was taeyong and he lied on the bed unconscious, with handkerchiefs wrapped around his wrists like bandages—courtesy of his friends, who looked deathly worried for the fate of their poor friend. if he had lost any more blood, he would’ve died. you had never seen the clinic in such chaos, people running around, anxious. your leg muscles were sore from going back and forth from the nurse’s side to the cabinets storing all the medical supplies she needed. 

it had been a whirlwind, and after your superior had patched and properly bandaged his cuts, you were left to look after him in the meantime as nurse jung tried contacting his guardian. 

his friends—who you learned were named yuta and jaehyun, were snoozing outside on the bench across the hall, parallel with the clinic’s double-glass door, as they waited for their friend to wake up. 

depression. suicidal. taeyong has been like that for his whole life, jaehyun stated earlier. you can only shoot a sorry look at the unconscious boy lying on the hospital bed. 

it had already been dark outside when you came in to switch out his bandages for new ones—only to realize that his cut is exactly where you had been scratching earlier before he showed up. 

you retracted, unbelieving of what that possibly entails. along the way, you’ve pieced together that your soulmate is probably struggling through something heavy, something that weighed him down so much that it made him believe hurting himself is the only solution, what with all the flowers on your skin. 

“it’s him…” you mumble, wide eyed as you eyed the faded scars around his wrists, eerily aligned to the flowers blooming on your own. 

you didn’t want to overwhelm him, that much was sure. you didn’t want to chase him away if he gets uncomfortable. so for weeks you started leaving anonymous notes in his locker. not the sappy love letter types, just little words of encouragement that could make his day better. 

when their friend breaks out into the tiniest of smiles, yuta and jaehyun’s thankful eyes would scour around the halls. sneakily looking for you behind taeyong’s back. they understood where you’re coming from and hadn’t spoken a word of disagreement when you told them you didn’t plan to make yourself known as his soulmate yet. 

and as if the notes were not enough, you start giving him his favorite starbucks drink every now and then—on days the flowers didn’t bloom as much as it normally would. you turn up half an hour early before lectures so you can place it on the table where he usually sits with his two best friends. even if his class is on the other side of campus, you’d still go. 

but it only took three weeks of creeping around until you’re caught by your soulmate himself. 

“do you want something from me?”

you didn’t know what to say, cat got your tongue as you stood before him holding the drink. you couldn’t weasel your way out and say the drink’s yours, not when he caught you standing before his usual seat, not when you were already leaning forward to place it on his desk.

“uhm… i…” you stutter pathetically, not being able to meet the intensity of his eyes. 

“jaehyun and yuta aren’t exactly the most lowkey, especially with how much their eyes wander when i open my locker. so, do you want something from me? what are you playing at, stalker?”

the name he called you stung like a bitch but you can’t blame him for it. you knew him, he doesn’t know you. you’re giving him gifts anonymously. even if they were all from the goodness of your heart, from an outsider’s view, your actions still appeared sketchy.

“soulmate,” you correct him. 

you watch his features twist into confusion, only for it to morph into shock once he’s digested what you just said. eventually, he schools his expression back to indifference. his stoic face is so intimidating, you thought, biting your bottom lip and fidgeting on your toes. 

“what?”

“i’m your—i’m your soulmate.”

his eyes flicker downwards to peak a glance at the bouquet of flowers painted on your skin. colors as beautiful and vibrant as the day you got them, the stems of the bell-shaped flowers intricately woven into each other. for a split second, you even twist your arms a little, showing him the rock hard proof of your claim. 

ever since you found him, you’ve always contemplated for the better part of your limited free time about what his reaction will be when he finds out you two are soulmates. will he accept you? or worse case scenario, pretend you didn’t exist? the possibilities are unknown especially with someone who seems to be going through so much that the last thing they wanted is this person who thinks they’re entitled to be part of their lives because the universe made it be that way. 

not that you feel entitled… taeyong can reject you all he wants and you’ll give him the space he needs—

he’s crying. 

and not the simple, small tears slowly streaming down his face one by one type of crying, no, his tears were an onslaught. full-on sobbing as he threw himself onto you, wrapping his arms tight around your shoulders as he buried his face into your neck, words heavily muffled by your coat. 

“is it—” he hiccups. “true?”

you blink, from all the reactions you’ve gone through in your head, crying was the very last thing you expected from him—crying and hugging you like you’re the last person on earth and he’s been touch-starved until he found you. 

maybe that was the case. 

you wonder what jaehyun and yuta felt whenever taeyong ditched them to spend time with you—and that was pretty much all the time since he’s found you. he’s like a puppy, following you around wherever you go (unless he has classes) and had been neglecting his friends. whether it was intentional or not, whether his two friends were cool with it or not, you don’t know. 

you try your best to smile every time he runs up to you on the other end of the hall, spotting you coming out of your own respective classroom after lectures are done. 

he’s beaming like a child, inviting you to this cafe he wants to take you to—and pathetic ‘lil ‘ol you just can’t seem to say no to those huge expecting eyes.

but you’re not blind to the slight scowl on yuta’s face nor the razor sharp smile on jaehyun’s features. they want to hang out together, just boys, but now there’s this soulmate who’s suddenly more important than them—what happened to bros before hoes?

but they knew taeyong needed you. heck, he never once smiled like the way he did before he met you. it was like he’s become this whole new person with a child-like innocence reflecting his eyes. 

“so?” your soulmate prompts just as his two friends came over, flanking him. 

taeyong deflates the moment he sees the hesitance in your eyes. “uhm… i actually have a shift in the clinic, and nurse jung said the clinic isn’t some hang out place, so you can’t, uhh…” you trail, not wanting to finish the sentence. 

a little white lie can’t hurt anyone, right? 

taeyong shouldn’t depend on you all the time, not when he also has friends who care about his well-being and mental health just as much as you do. being soulmates didn’t mean he has to spend every waking moment with you and the faster he realizes, the better. 

when you dashed away before he could even mutter out a reply, you miss the frown on his face, his eyes never once leaving your frame until you turned the corner. 

people often favor the underdog. they have this gnawing urge in their gut to sympathize and unknowingly root for their own plot twist or happy ending. 

people look at you and your soulmate and think you have poor, suicidal and depressed and sad taeyong eating at the palm of your hand, following you around like a lonely duckling—the undeniable underdog in a coming-of-age movie, the person shoved around until some bigger, more capable person comes to their rescue (in this case you, unfortunately).

but appearances have always been deceiving. 

your little 3-week head start with getting to know your soulmate had only been on surface-level. you just wanted to help him but taeyong’s obvious attraction—can you even call it that? you’d like to think it’s more of infatuation—is off-putting for you. from standing way too close to putting an arm around you, from walking you to your lectures to walking you home, from the light headpats to having the guts to kiss your cheeks. 

it’s too much and it wasn’t as if you basked in the public display of affection. whenever you tried telling him off in the most gentlest of ways, taeyong would frown and curl in on himself, eyes glossy, darting around, and looking like a kicked puppy. 

you couldn’t leave him like that just because of some harmless skinship, right? he’s just excited and happy he’s found you. weren’t you also the first one to initiate? with all those notes and gifts you’ve given him? and now you’re backing away just because of a few touches?

“you know,” your roommate plops herself on the couch next to you, netflix movie playing as background. “you’re not obligated to fix him. you’re his soulmate, not his psychiatrist.”

you sigh, head diving into the couch pillows. “i’m not trying to fix him, i’m just…”

she raises a prodding eyebrow. 

“…i’m just trying to be there for him.”

taeyong likes to think that he wasn’t doing it on purpose. but the sense of rush and sick pleasure running up and down his spine whenever you force a smile and give in to his wishes proves otherwise. 

all his life he’s been pushed around. tasked to buy his old man beer and cigarettes and an assortment of drugs. if he turns up empty handed, guess who becomes a punching bag? and he has always been alienated throughout his school life. immature elementary kids aren’t exactly the kindest and would’ve picked on every single thing to appear cool to their friend groups. and poor little scrawny taeyong who didn’t speak and didn’t defend himself was just too easy of a target. 

“uhm… you don’t—don’t need to walk me home all the time.” do you think so low of him that you believe he doesn’t sense your fake little giggle?

“but i like walking you home,” he pouts, jutting his lips just a wee bit more for extra measure. he makes sure his eyes are as round and glossy as can be, he noticed those puppy eyes are what gets to you the most. 

he can tell by your tense shoulders, the clear hesitance in your face, that smile that looked too sweet to be real, and your averting eyes. you needn’t say anything for taeyong to figure you out. he isn’t blind to the lack of comfort you’ve developed by being with him. 

he has to think of something or else you’ll be slipping through the gaps of his fingers.

he asked you out on valentine’s day. it wasn’t the simple, forgettable act of popping out the “hey, do you want to go out on a date with me?” question while holding a bouquet of flowers. taeyong made sure you’ll never forget this certain day that he had laid his claim on you—not that it needed to be vocalized, it was his wounds that made flowers bloom on your skin. the soulmate connection should be enough.

but taeyong wanted to go the extra mile.

with the help of his friends (yuta’s popular and jaehyun can be very persuasive), he’s got people handing you lilies of the valley every ten feet until you reach the auditorium in the main building. despite it blooming on your skin you’ve never really seen them in the flesh. they’re like dew drops, bell-like flowers growing in an elegant dip from it’s main stem and appearing no bigger than your thumb.

you were awed, but skeptical.

you meet taeyong by the end of your little journey, standing on a decorated stage with a bouquet of the flowers nestled delicately in his hands. the natural sunlight bleeding through the open windows giving him such a beautiful glow that you couldn’t take your eyes off him. he had smiled and timidly gave you the flowers while asking.

“will you be my girlfriend?” 

if only you’d look close enough, that sugar coated smile contrasted greatly to the sly flickers in his eyes. he knows how your actions are dictated by the reputation you’ve built. taeyong knows you'll say yes, because if you didn't, how could you have rejected your own soulmate who has made you the light of his life? he’s been nothing but kind to you and you’ve only pushed him away! you’re a monster! you should’ve saved him!

if him alone can’t make you say yes, maybe the pressure-induced stare of the whole student body can.

and as you shivered amidst taeyong’s suffocating hug, feeling the triumphant smirk against your head and his prodding nose as he sniffed your hair, you now understood why your body bloomed this specific woodland flower. 

lilies of the valley are beautiful.

but lilies of the valley are poisonous, too.

the flowers remind you of taeyong. 

making things official has only made things worse. taeyong has promised you that after being together he won’t try hurting himself anymore and that he’s a big boy and he can attend his therapy sessions alone. but the itching in your skin is as constant as ever and you just got off the phone with the receptionist of the clinic he goes to. 

“are things alright? i haven’t seen taeyong since three weeks ago.”

if there’s one thing you absolutely hate doing with your soulmate, it’s confrontations. for the three months you’ve been together, taeyong has always, always spiraled out whenever you confront him about something. be it the mildest or the most superficial thing, what started out small will turn into a complete whirlwind and he’d be in a fit of tears by the end of it.

every single time. 

you prefer happy taeyong than sad taeyong—if you can avoid it for as long as you can, you will. but you’re at your breaking point. him lying to you about his therapy sessions is the pin that popped the little balloon of security you’ve been protecting. 

when you arrive home, he’s already there, crouched and sifting through your bookshelf. it wasn’t a surprise or anything out of the ordinary, he possesses the key to invite himself into your apartment any time. “hey, you’re home!” he immediately stands, barreling towards you. 

he encircles his arms around you protectively as he pulls you flush against his body. you feel the tip of his nose prodding against your neck, hearing him inhaling your scent like cannabis. 

you learned to ignore it, this habit of his—but just because you do doesn’t make you any less uncomfortable than the first time he did it.

you don’t bother hugging him back. 

you were too pissed off to keep up with pretenses. 

“the clinic called, said you weren’t attending your sessions. why were you lying to me?” 

when pushed into a corner, you were never one to beat around the bush.

“i don’t like going alone, i told you that, remember?” he quickly replied, shoving you away. “i wouldn’t have to lie to you if you would just come with me for my sessions, don’t you think? you’re blowing this out of proportion when it’s all your fault.”

you wanted to pull at your hair. scratch that, you wanted to pull at his hair—no, not in that kind of way. 

“how the fuck—” you stop. taeyong hates it when you curse. cursing will do you more harm than good. you inhale through your nostrils, willing yourself to calm down. “how is this my fault? i told you i have to run errands for professor kim!”

“then quit working there! they’re not even paying you, it’s just for extra credit! which you wouldn’t even fucking need if you weren’t flunking astronomy so bad.” taeyong must’ve seen your features twisting into that of betrayal. he was there when you were crying your eyes out because you failed the exam. he knew the subject was taking such a big toll on you. 

how could he…

“don’t fucking look at me like that, kitten. you know it’s the truth.”

what is the point of this, some form of payback he’s subjecting you to? just because you didn’t come with him to his sessions? six months in this relationship and you already feel so drained, how would the universe expect you to keep up for a whole fucking lifetime together with him?

“why…” you choke, the tears building up in your eyes as your voice breaks. “so what do you want me to do, then?” you ask, because you genuinely don’t know. 

does he want you to choose? is that it? you didn’t want to lose the credits, but you didn’t want to lose this relationship either, no matter how much you’re drowning in the toxicity of it all. 

because this is your soulmate. 

certainly, the universe wouldn’t destine you to each other if it would only bring forth chaos, right? taeyong has mentioned time and time again that this is his first relationship. of course, he’s depending on you to show him the ropes. 

but it seems he isn’t really a big fan of how you do things. 

“quit.”

you shake your head defeatedly. “you know i can’t. i’d have to take the whole subject again next semester and—”

“i said quit, dollface.” the finality in his tone renders you speechless. “then fucking take the subject again next semester! i don’t care. that’s your consequence for neglecting your major. why the fuck do i have to suffer, too, if my soulmate is such a failure?”

his words cut deep, deeper than flesh, cutting through bone as your knees the urge to buckle and collapse before him. “taeyong, please—”

“honestly, i don’t even know what you’re doing with that professor. you always brush it off whenever i ask you!” the glare he sends could kill. “is this… is this why you’re so adamant about not quitting? then again… what kind of professor is willing to pass his students just by interning for him? i can’t believe i’m only realizing this now!”

this is bad. this is very, very bad. 

“whatever you’re thinking about is not true! trust me—”

but as if he can’t hear you, he dawdles on, trying to connect the dots when there is absolutely nothing to connect. 

“you suck dick for grades? how could you do this to me? how can you do that to yourself?” 

you don’t understand exactly why he’s crying again so you don’t say anything. not because his fierce accusations were right but because even if you try hard to convince him that nothing is going on with your astronomy professor, he’d still cry and whine and paint you to be the bad guy. 

“what… what use do i have in this world if my soulmate thinks i’m not enough? and i lost you to some guy who smelled like prunes of all people!” you would have laughed if the situation had been different, but taeyong was dead serious. “i’m useless. i’ve been useless with my family, my friends, and now you. i can never do anything right, can i? i can never make anyone stay. i can’t even make you stay!”

and like a switch that has been flicked off, your conflicted emotions vanish in thin air. gone are every trickle of anger, confusion, and irritation you felt as he makes a beeline to the coffee table, smashing the little ornamental fish bowl and pointing a shard against his dainty wrists. 

“no!” you tackle him to the ground, groaning when you feel the shard dig into your side yet you made no effort to get off of him. blindly, you reach, twisting his wrist to drop the piece of glass. “you promised!” you wail, clutching the collars of his shirt as you pull him close to you. “stop, stop hurting yourself.”

you feel him shaking his head, his own onslaught of tears staining your shirt as the negativity he’s been bottling pours over like a tsunami, dragging you under the currents with him. “no, no, no…” you splutter, snot running disgustingly down your nostrils. “it’s not true, none of that is true. you’re my love, my moonlight, i’d never betray you for anyone or anything!”

“but—but your professor, the internship—”

“i’ll quit. i’ll take the subject again next semester, it’s not a big deal, okay? don’t worry, i’m here. i’m so sorry!”

it was all too easy.

the thing with noble people like you is the foolish sense of responsibility lying underneath your skin, it’s gravitational pull so strong that you don’t bother to think before you speak, to think before you act, to think before you make promises, because what’s important isn’t yourself, it’s the person lying meek and helpless before you. 

quit, you say? taeyong wants something more.

the evil lying inside pandora’s box can never remain dormant, not when meddlesome people like you who think with a one-track mind pull the lid off its hinges, preaching how every evil can have their own redemption.

a hand finds purchase around your waist as an eerie blissful smile stretches on his lips, eyes clouded over. “really? i’m your moonlight?”

“yes—”

“would you prove it to me?”

he doesn’t make room for your hesitance to settle, he lunges, hands wrapping around your face to pull you into a kiss. it wasn’t like all the other kisses you’ve shared with him, no, this one had a dark, underlying purpose. his hands digging into your open wound to make it bleed, tongue sliding into your mouth the moment you gasped in pain.

your hands press on his chest, trying to push him away but taeyong’s thoughts are running wild. you blush in sheer humiliation when he lets out an almost pornographic moan. with a sinking realization, you’ve become hyper aware of something poking at your abdomen.

no, not yet. you weren’t ready yet!

“taeyong, wait—i’m not—”

“you said you love me, didn’t you?”

[starlitangels]

In honor of the 100k, let me tell a little story. Which, I’m aware, I do all the time as a fanfic writer XD But this one is my story

The story of how I got here, anyway.

I’ve been writing stories since I was 8 years old. They weren’t good, back then, and the older I got, the more I wrote but the less I could focus on one thing. I write one-shots for a reason. I have a hard time finishing multi-chapter fics—especially if I start them with no clue where they’re going or what’s gonna happen in the middle. I had (who am I kidding? have) dozens of novel ideas sitting in my hard drive nowhere near completed because I struggle so hard to focus

When I was 16, I discovered fanfiction. I started with long-forms and slowly transitioned over to one-shots as I made a little nook for myself on Tumblr when I was about 18. I’ve never really looked back. I still write my original projects sometimes. Some weeks they consume my life.

But back in October-November (2021), when I was barely a few months out of a long medication-induced depression (yay side effects), I wasn’t writing. At all. It’s been my only major hobby since I was 14. I still do other stuff like paint and doodle and knit, but writing has always been where my creativity liked to play. Not writing and not knowing what to write and not having anything to write that felt inspiring was making me spiral.

Not externally. My husband never noticed and I never told him. It wasn’t a big deal. Feeling “burned out” over a hobby that did little more than while away a few hours of my day wasn’t a big deal on the outside

But on the inside I was panicking. What if the thing I’d spent the last, like, fifteen years of my life doing suddenly lost all its joy and I never wrote again? What if I never felt excited enough about something to pour my soul into a bunch of one-shots again? What if I never found relief and release from writing again? (Writing is also my therapy and helps me process my emotions and the world around me)

I was so, so damn scared that I was about to lose all the passion I’d ever had for the only hobby I’d ever really spent the time trying to develop. Because... what would I be without my words? Who was I, without writing?

One night, in late November, I couldn’t sleep. I’ve always had trouble sleeping, so that alone wasn’t much different from usual.

I’ve been listening to ASMR since my freshman year of college. My apartment was right next to the freeway and I couldn’t sleep without my headphones in but music was usually too much. I started with, like, Guided Meditation channels before I found ASMR and that tingly feeling I get in certain situations finally had a label and I realized it wasn’t just me that got that feeling (trying to explain it to my family was... next to impossible—none of them get the response). I moved from ASMR videos to the audio-only stuff... my junior or senior year of college after discovering SalemAudio and Hollow_ VA. A few other channels joined as the next couple years came through. Namely Ycey Narrates, Siren’s Son ASMR, and Good Boy Audios.

Not long after those three joined my subscribed list, I started getting recommended “Redacted ASMR.” I know now that the ones I was getting recommended were Sam’s videos. At the time I was hesitant to click on any of them because I know I’ve got a Lore Gremlin brain and I didn’t want to get consumed by needing to know all the lore with none of my old passion behind it, the way I was moving through the rest of my life. And, also, I saw the “Parental Advisory” label that gets slapped onto music album art in all the thumbnails and was hesitant that there might be... uncomfortable subject matter, I guess is the phrasing I’ll use.

Back to that late night in November.

I was scrolling through recommended videos under some ASMR audio-only I’d just listened to (Ycey, I think?), and saw a video titled “Listening In On Your Boyfriend’s Thoughts” published “1 Day Ago” and with Telepath Listener in the thumbnail.

That caught my attention because I wanted to know how someone would pull off telepathy in an audio medium.

So, I clicked it.

And I loved it.

And I wanted more of it.

So, I started listening to more and more of this channel. I’ve always been a fantasy-lover, and the magic system hooked me in immediately.

And my passion came back. I wanted to write again. I felt inspired. I fell in love with the characters and the world and the magic (both literally and figuratively) in that world. And there’s been so much variety that I never feel bored

And everyone in the Tumblr fandom helped too. I’ve mentioned before that I never got the response I get here in any other fandom I’ve ever been in and that’s 100% true. I’ve made friends in this fandom—people engage with me and send me random headcanons—and draw the Pups I made up completely unsolicited just because they liked the thing I made (never happened to me before and I’m still wowed by it)!!! 

And that has helped me so much. I feel like my writing is worth something again. It’s always been worth something to me, but the point of art for me has always been to share it with others. I grew up surrounded by music and art and stories. I was always taught that art is for yourself, but it’s also for sharing.

And you guys have enthusiastically let me share my art (both the... mediocre doodles and the one-shots) with you and been so kind and welcoming and engaging with me.

So... yeah. This is the first time in years I’ve found a story that has made me really want to dig in and write for it, and every single person who’s been kind to me since I turned up here has had a bigger part to play in that than they might know.

I recognize your URLs when you ‘like’ my stories. I smile like a giddy schoolkid every time someone clearly just found my blog and scrolled either the blog itself or my fic tag with reckless abandon, ‘liking’ everything in their path I cannot express to you properly how much that makes me smile. I still get surprised when people respond to questions I post or just send me asks unsolicited with headcanons or TikToks that are absolutely the Redacted characters or my Pups omg—because Tumblr used to just be me screaming into a void. Now I feel like people actually enjoy my presence to some degree, and that is so fulfilling to someone like me

So thank you all. It’s been a short but wild ride, and here’s to it being much longer, and just as wild!

I’ve told bits-and-pieces of this story before on this blog, but here’s the raw truth of it.

[actiaslove]

Here we are again.

I first made this tumblr blog around 4 years ago. I was early in my college career, and I had told my crush about my unrequited love for him. Despite knowing that he did not return my feelings (he was in a committed relationship), I felt that I had to tell him to move on. It hurt so badly, hearing the answer I knew I would get. This tumblr was made as a place for me to vent about that experience. I have not really used it in almost 3 years, because 6 months after I talked to my former crush I got into a relationship with her- the love of my life.

My relationship with her was my first and only relationship. I remember being so scared that I would be hurt again, scared that it would end up being a mistake, scared that I wasn’t actually over him and would end up harming the both of us. But our love bloomed so beautifully and passionately it blew every feeling I had for him away. Her love, her beauty, her kindness, her laughter eveloped me and my life, and I knew I would love her to the end of my days.

Our life together felt perfect. We never fought. We loved cooking for each other. We did chores the other didn’t like doing as acts of service. We ate ice cream together at night more often than not. We had fun doing things together whether it was watching a show at home, painting, going somewhere new, or going on one of our many walk routes around town. Whenever I was without her I thought about her. When I was having fun somewhere without her I would think of bringing her there one day so I could share the joy I felt with her. In May it will be 3 beautiful years together.

After May it will be over. We’re going to grad school, and we were unable to get into the same ones. She told me recently that she’s been feeling like she needs space, time to figure out what she wants from her future and to figure herself out. She told me that she needs space, and that she can’t be in a committed, long-distance relationship while she did that. We are still together, still living with each other, until the school year is up and it is time for us to go to our new institutions. She told me that she still loved me, but that she does not neccessarily see our future with each other anymore, at least not until she figured herself out. She told me that despite how she currently felt, she meant every word of love and commitment over the course of our relationship when she said them.

I have never felt such despair. I cannot see a future for me without her. I don’t know exactly what I wanted from my future, but I knew that I wanted to experience life with her. I feel as though in her searching for her life’s purpose she’s destroyed mine. I’ve lost all passion and ambition for everything. I don’t know if I want to go to grad school anymore. We share the same academic field, and I imagined us chasing our dreams together. The thought of the subject that was once my life’s passion makes me feel a little sick right now. None of the things I normally enjoy give me happiness anymore.

She is my most important person. I have good friends, a family that I love and get along relatively well with, but they mean nowhere near as much to me as she does. Everything was going well for me, I had hobbies, a social life, friends, a career I was passionate in persuing, I made enough money to get by, and I had my love. If we thought of my life as a healthy body, everything was in perfect working order. But now my heart is getting ripped out, and there’s no point in everything else being fine if there is no heart.

And so here I am again, stuck in this feeling of heartbreak. I never thought I would need this blog again. Until just about a week ago I thought that I was with the woman I would marry and cherish forever. I still have some hope, that maybe she’ll change her mind by the end of May, or that maybe in the future, if she still loves me and she’s figured out what she needed, we’ll reconnected and pick back up where we left off. But right now I want to dissappear. I dont know if I’ll be able to make it after May. I don’t know if I can make it without her. I don’t really want to.

[agathasangel]

leave everything behind but me- part 4 (diane sherman x reader) (NSFW moment)

warnings: same as before, stalking (like full on irl stalking as well as online), drugging, some talk of emotional/physical abuse in this one, death mention. this whole fic is just kinda dark... sorry. Also brief nsfw moment.

summary: this part is from Diane’s perspective. as she looks for her neurotoxin ingredients in a panic, she reflects on how she came into contact with you in the first place, and all the highs and lows of your relationship up to this point.

where the hell are they? thought Diane, looking for the last, most important ingredient in her neurotoxin.

She couldn’t believe it had come to this again. Just like with Chloe.

Diane wondered where Chloe was, what she was doing. About five years ago, with an excellent defense lawyer, she managed to get out of jail for what she had done. She looked far and wide for her stolen daughter, who seemed to be nowhere to be found. She still worried about what became of Chloe, but knew she was probably doing alright. And one day, Diane found a new obsession by the name of (y/n).

It was nearly two years ago now. Diane was beginning to give up on finding Chloe, after three full years of searching anywhere and everywhere with no luck. But she did find something else. 

She was staying at a hotel in California, near the hospital where she gave birth to Chloe, in the vain hope that maybe, just maybe, Chloe would be around.

Diane didn’t find Chloe, but she found something else from her past. Her college reunion was being held in the exact hotel she was staying at. She didn’t plan on attending, but then she came face-to-face with her college rival. This woman was the only person who did better in her classes than Diane. Not only that, but she had multitudes of friends, boyfriends, you name it, while Diane had no one. The woman never let Diane forget how much better she was either. It wasn’t the worst thing Diane had ever been through, not by a long shot, but it was a disappointment for sure. College was supposed to be the place where Diane could finally feel like she belonged, and she always resented this rival of hers. 

“Diane! We didn’t think you were coming! Oh here, have a seat!” said the woman.

“I’m so sorry about Roger. It was such a shock to hear about.”, she continued, reminding Diane of her dead husband

“Yeah, I still can’t say I’m over it, all these years later.”

“Yeah when the love of your life just drops dead like that, you never get over it, do you?”, she said, far louder than Diane would have liked.

“Can we please talk about something else?”

“Of course, I’m so sorry, Diane, I know it must be so hard for you!”

“Yeah. Um... what’s your family like?”

“Well we have one daughter. Her name is (y/n), and she’s a senior in High School,” said the woman. She then leaned into Diane and said, “But can I be honest? I never exactly wanted kids. Never liked them. I thought it would change when I had her but it didn’t. She’s so... difficult.”

Diane’s blood absolutely boiled hearing this, but she managed to keep a polite face, “But that’s your child. Don’t you love her?”

“There are some good things about her, I guess. I do love her in my own way, but I can’t help but feel disappointed. She’s just not what I thought she’d be. I’m sorry, I thought you may understand. I never get to vent my frustrations about her.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t understand. But, do you, um, by any chance have a picture of her?”

“On my phone, somewhere. Let me look.”

After a while, she found a picture of (y/n). It was fairly recent photo of you at a restaurant, at what looked like a dinner with the whole family. You looked sad and lost, but Diane thought you looked sweet.

“She’s beautiful.”

“Thanks,” said the woman, almost stifling a laugh, as if there was no way Diane could have meant that.

“I’m sorry, I need to go to the bathroom.” said Diane, as she was starting to turn red in anger and the woman.

“I’ll join you, I need to freshen up a bit.”

“Fine.”

So Diane walked straight into a stall while the other woman followed. Diane started to cry, so angry at this awful woman. She had a child, a beautiful, sweet, girl who was alive, for God’s sake. Diane would kill for what she has, in fact she had killed for it before. But this woman didn’t care about her child, she didn’t appreciate you one bit.

She didn’t deserve you. 

Then she heard the woman get into the stall next to her and she decided to leave. But the woman left her purse on the sink. Diane looked into her purse and found everything. All her information was in her wallet, and she took pictures of her address, phone number, and credit card numbers, as well as a couple of photos of you and your father. Diane quickly threw the last photo back into her purse as she heard her enemy get up, and she ran away, all the way back up to her room. 

Diane looked at the photos, and started to look for your social media. You didn’t seem to post very often, or have many friends. Most of your photos were of you by yourself, or pretty things you took pictures of, and even a couple of sad poems you wrote. Poetry written by teenagers was usually laughably bad, but hers made Diane cry. She saw herself in you.

Poor little thing, Diane thought. She needs some love. But I can do that for her.

Diane spent about a month following you and your parents around, without any of you even noticing her presence. One day she snuck into their house and bugged it, so that there were feeds of different rooms streaming to her computer at all times.

Diane noticed you spent most of your time alone. You wrote in a journal a lot, and cried fairly often, hugging a teddy bear you had. You just seemed so burnt out from stress from school, stress from your job, pressure from your parents. You fought with both of her parents often. Well... fight wasn’t the right word. Usually, one parent would yell at you and insult you, and you would choose to either take it or not take it.

There was one particular instance where you snapped at your father, telling him how he abandoned you so many times. He didn’t take this well, screaming all kinds of insults. How Diane wished she could hold you, rock you, comfort you and tell you that aren’t any of the terrible things your father told you, and that she’s sorry that you never felt good enough.

Diane snuck into (y/n)’s graduation, too. She knew she couldn’t contact you yet, but she got so much happiness out of just seeing this milestone of your life. All you did was walk across the stage and take your diploma, but Diane beamed with pride for you as you did it.

After graduation, your parents were constantly threatening to kick you out, and the fights got worse, they crying got worse. Diane wished she was there, comforting you, holding you and giving you all the love that your parents didn’t. Diane looked for a window of opportunity into this girl’s life until she found the perfect one. You had put out an ad on facebook for anyone on the east coast looking for a roommate, and Diane put her plan into action. She made a fake account on facebook pretending to be a college girl named “Anna Johnson” and responded to the ad, starting to talk to and getting friendly with you. “Anna” suggested that you take a bus trip and offered to pay the fare, but you refused because you wanted to earn the money yourself. Diane’s heart warmed at your sweet messages, even though they were to “Anna” and not her. “I’ve never had as good a friend as you before”, “Who needs a mom when I have you giving me such great advice?”, “You’re the best!”, every little message that you sent to Diane made her fall more and more in love. Diane bought a little house on the East Coast with the money she got from selling her old house, and hoped everything will fall into place in her new life with (y/n). 

Now during the bus trip, Diane needed to follow you closely in her silver minivan, and make sure not to lose track of you during layovers either. Her detour into the coffee shop scared her at first, but once Diane found you, it was the perfect opportunity to finally, after all these months of dreaming, meet you face-to-face. Her new little baby girl, finally. Diane slipped a powdered sleeping pill into her already tired girl’s coffee to make you even more sleepy and suggestible, getting you to come with her to her hotel room.

Back in the present, Diane found the rest of the powdered sleeping pills as she was searching through her medicine cabinet and closet. She got so distracted thinking about you, and all the horribly wrong things she had done to you. 

It’s for her own good, all of it. She needs to be protected, she’s too pure for this world, to good, too sweet...

Diane searched through the drugs she had given you, thinking of all the best times the two of you have had.

The first day Diane had been with you in the little house was heaven on earth. Finally Diane had everything she’s been working for for almost a year now right there, in her arms. Diane wanted to give you everything you didn’t believe you deserved. The only catch was that you belonged to Diane, and Diane alone.

She got a job teaching Chemistry at the local High School fairly easily, as she had extensive knowledge (even more extensive than she may have let on in her interview), of the subject, and the school district was completely desperate for competent science teachers. Diane found faking the background check easy, she used her maiden name and an incorrect date of birth and they didn’t ask her about her arrest at all. And now she had her new life set up. A house that she owned, a job to put food on the table, and you.

The next best day for Diane was the day you finally kissed her. Diane was starting to fall in love with you in a more romantic, even a more sexual way, but didn’t know if you felt the same way about her. Then, during one of your movie nights, you kissed Diane, and she felt overjoyed. She kissed you back and finally led you to the bed and fucked you, like she had been thinking about doing every night at this point but was too scared to actually initiate until now. She was in love with the feeling she got from kissing you, from pleasing you. It had been so long since Diane had been this intimate with anyone, and she was your first. And it was a real awakening for the both of you.

It felt so good, you felt so good. This relationship you had was so incredibly wrong in so many ways, but it just felt so right.

Why did it have to change?

Of course, there were still some hard moments. Even Diane admitted that there were times when she could be irrationally possessive of you, getting angry when someone even looks at you the wrong way. She knew that her possessive, obsessive attitude could scare you, and you would even blame yourself for it, but she didn’t know how to stop. She knew that you were getting scared she would become more difficult to please, like all the other people that have been in your life.

Or the times that you would cry, and it happened so often. You would get sad and Diane would hold you and tell you:

“It’s ok baby, you’re here now, you’re with me. I love you more than life itself. You’re gonna be okay, my little angel.”

One night Diane woke up to you crying into your pillow, and immediately grabbed you.

“What’s wrong, baby? What happened?”

“I- I was afraid that you might- that- one day- you might not want me anymore... what would happen if you d-don’t want me....”

“Listen, I will never not want you. You are all I have, remember? And you’re all I need. Come here, that’s right. You’re my baby, all mine.. shhh....”

Or, there was the time you asked about the scars on Diane’s back. She was mortified, but finally told you about her terrible childhood. The horrible abuse from her mother until her death, the foster home, everything. Her desperation to become the mother she never had. You hugged her tight.

“I’m so sorry, Diane, I had no idea... and to think I complained about-”

“Baby, don’t compare your life to mine. All that matters now is that it’s you and me, and I need to take care of you.”

“Sometimes I think I should be the one taking care of you, Diane.”

“Trust me baby, you do so much more for me than you think.”

Then Diane found it. The rest of the paint thinner. And she was ready to take away all your sadness once and for all, and make you hers forever.