#by virtue of having a flip phone

[motleyfam]

RIP Darrel Curtis you would have loved installing tracking software on the gang’s phones

[rin-may-1103]

Just a Bite (part two)

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Danny slid into the taxi and closed the door, not even a second later did the man merge into traffic. Sneaking a glance at the driver, who somehow looked even worse than Danny did when he hadn't slept in four days, Danny slowly peeled off the sticky note from the seat.

glancing down, he found Clockwork's familiar handwriting. (which he would like to add, shouldn't be as familiar as it is, but then again, he shouldn't be having tea time with him either.)

Do what you think is right, only then does your future look bright.

well, alright then. does that mean Danny should jump out the moving car? because he didn't think walking into some poor rich dude's house and forcing his company on the family was the right thing to do. He thought it was the most convenient at the moment, sure, but not the right one.

flipping the note over, Danny found more writing;

Do not jump out of the car, you've already come this far. Patience will be a virtue. This is worth the persue. Do not worry, there is no hurry.

"what the hell, Clockwork?" Danny quietly hissed, glaring off to the side and out the window. "You become friends with Ghostwriter or something? and what do you mean don't worry? I'm literally running from the government. if nothing else, that's probably the one thing I need to worry about."

Another sticky note poped up, this time stuck to the back of the driver's seat. Glancing up, Danny waited a second for the driver to be distracted before reaching out and snatching the note.

the only thing on it was a very shitty smily face.

what the fuck.

"this isn't funny, clocky!" Danny hissed again, glancing up to make sure the driver hadn't heard him. "mom and dad literally have my ecto signature, they only need a single hint of which direction to go before it becomes all too easy to find me again."

closing his eyes, Danny took a deep breath.

holding it for a second, then exhaling. Alright. Fine, if Clockwork isn't worried or against this, then there's no reason not to do this. (well besides the obvious one; it's rude to walk into someone's house uninvited and whatnot.)

"fine, but I'm only staying long enough to snag some food and then I'm gone, got it?" Danny grumbled, glaring at his reflection in the window. he didn't receive another note, so he leaned back and watched as the city passed. Slowly buildings spread out, and green lawns turned into green fields.

staring down at the smiley face, Danny shook his head, carefully he pulled out his phone and removed the case. shoving the sticky note inside, Danny put the case back on and put his phone in his pocket. it was dead, so he couldn't do anything else with it so might as well make it useful. who knows when Danny might need that little bit of ectoplasm.

A few minutes later, the taxi slowed to a stop next to a black gate and rolled down the window. "taxi 'ere, Mr. Wayne already paid me."

"I see," a strongly British voice echoed from the box, "come in." The gate beeped a second later and swung open, allowing the taxi to drive through. Danny glanced around the front 'yard' as they approached the looming building. Nicely trimmed green grass fields as far as the eyes could see, trees lining where Danny had to assume were the property lines.

somehow it was completely different from Vlad's front yard, yet still, Danny could only describe them as the same. Green, full of flowers and sculpted bushes and outlandishly garish paveways for their rich front doors. If Danny squinted he could swear there were butterflies happily fluttering around the sides of the building.

and Danny uses the word building here because that was not a house.

No, no. That building wasn't even a mansion like Sam's house. nor was it a castle, like Vlad's. It was an old building of amalgamated eras and themes. Danny was so annoyed his phone was dead right now, Sam would have lost her mind if she could see what he was. Are those eighteenth-century dormers right next to a twentieth-century skylight???

you know what? Mr. Wayne deserves to have all of his food eaten right in front of him. Who in their right mind would allow their home to look like that? And in the twenty-first century no less!

The taxi pulled to a stop; and Danny, lost in his Sam-induced horror, automatically pushed the car door open, stumbled his way out, closed the door, and stopped at the bottom of the stairs to stare up at the roof.

Taxi man sniffed and then drove off, his jaw cracking yawn echoing in the back of Danny's mind.

"Master Tim?" the British voice from earlier echoed out from the now-opened door. Danny's gaze dropped from the roof and down to the older man now walking toward him. the man hadn't looked up from his newspaper, still reading a paragraph as he stopped in front of Danny.

blinking, Danny glanced down at the paper. he might as well see what had the man's attention so thoroughly. Another article about Damian Wayne and the schoolyard incident.

Danny snorted, he remembered reading about that one. Someone had thrown away their copy and Danny had been bored. let's just say Danny was thoroughly entertained. he even had thoughts about how the kid had managed to sneak in a small dagger with how tight the school's security claimed to be.

"it had to be his belt, I just know it," Danny whispered, leaning a little more to try and see what the new article revealed.

"yes, yes. young master Damian snuck his dagger to school, no need for you to tell me how for the seventh time. Now, then." the butler, folded the paper and put it in his back pocket, and then, again without looking, gently grabbed Danny's arm and guided him toward the door.

"master bruce has been worried about your lack of sleep, you will go to your room and take a nap or you will not be allowed to share in your siblings' desert at diner tonight." the British man sternly continued, closing the front door behind them.

Danny blinked at him, then at the large foyer in front of them. he was so glad Vlad hadn't splurged on aesthetics like this family obviously had. Was that a crystal chandelier?

The British man, Danny was going to call him Gramps now, guided Danny to the stairs and then promptly let him go so he could rush off to find the source of a loud crash, but not without telling Danny (master Tim) to get some rest.

Glancing up at the grand stairs (covered in an obscene amount of glitter) and finding a large golden framed painting of the ocean with a for sale sign next to it, Danny made up his mind.

Mr. Wayne was a multi-billionaire, who allowed his ancient family home to be butchered. If he wasn't going to respect his home when Danny didn't even have one anymore?

Then Danny was going to honor Sam; The person who had dragged him into this hellish life of interior and exterior design (as well as the half'a life coincidently). And how was he going to do this, you ask? well what else, then do the very thing she's dedicated her time to?

Eating the rich.

Or in this case; their food.

and well, what was a ghost supposed to do when welcomed into an ancient home with ungrateful residences? Not haunt them?

[delusionsofgrandeur13]

CASUAL

is it casual? is it casual now?

chapter two and a half

NSFW. MINORS DNI.

tim drake x reader

series inspired by Casual by Chappell Roan

readers can expect: sexual acts (in a car) such as fingering, cunnilingus, sex in both cowgirl and missionary positions, cream pie, reader is on birth control, sort of edging, a bit of taunting in the dirty talk, use of 'sweetheart,' a repeat panty thief, tim mysteriously knowing where reader lives, blurry relationship lines. duh. happy reading!

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it’s almost a week later when…

your phone buzzes loudly on the bed from where you tossed it earlier.

“what the-”

incoming caller: drake

your clock reads 11:27 pm. you don’t pick up.

you have a test tomorrow. you have a pimple coming in on your cheek. you’re in your pajamas, for christ’s sake. no. you don’t pick up. 

and it’s not the first call of his you’ve ignored this week either. your phone log is littered with his name in a bright, angry red. you’ve been so strong. 

your phone buzzes again, just once this time. 

“come out.” 

….

what? 

you don’t remember ever giving tim your address. 

a peek out your window proves his presence, his sleek black car looming on the street outside of your house. it’s been a quiet night, your neighborhood soundtracked by the whirr of insects and the occasional car driving by. you let the curtain fall back into place, your feet doing a nervous shuffle as your brain moves 1,000 miles a minute. 

is he going to stay there until you come out? is he here to apologize, confess his undying love and devotion to you? you huff out a bitter laugh. fat chance. you’re not together.. but he figured out where you live? 

and he’s here. he showed up. at practically midnight, to….? to what? see you? 

he…wants to see you?

unfortunately that’s all it takes for you to shuffle into a pair of flip flops and head outside. 

“took you long enough.” his tone is dry, the glint in his eyes setting off a chill that travels up the length of your spine and back down several times over. 

he’s upset. 

“patience is a virtue, drake.” you squeeze out your reply, tucking your hands under your thighs. you squint out into the night, through the pristine windshield. settling back into the lush leather seat just reminds you again who you’re dealing with. 

“since when have i ever cared about virtue, sweetheart?” his finger finds your chin, nudging you over so you face him. his eyes are all over you, hungry. you laugh under your breath, rolling your eyes. what the fuck, right? 

“that’s right.” he replies, at your non-answer.

his lips are on yours, his arm is around your waist, he’s pulling you into the center console, pulling you closer to him. you kiss him back, a wave of anger and burning want cresting deep inside of you. you’re not together but he’s kissing you like you’re the best thing he’s ever tasted. you bite his bottom lip, relishing the way he feels between your teeth. he moans into your mouth and your heartbeat pounds in your ears. what even is this for him? fun? a fuck and run? 

you run your fingers through the thick locks of his hair, pulling as his tongue swipes your clit again. he lifts his head to look at you as your legs jerk, waves of pleasure racking your body. 

“still mad, sweetheart?” the cocky smile he’s wearing makes you want to scream. you use your hands in his hair to pull him back down, trying to shut him up. tim works quickly, pulling you close to the edge, so so close, just to lean back again. he kisses the inside of your thighs, tender and sweet, but smiling at your frustrated groans. 

“drake.” 

“not convincing enough…you don’t seem like you want it that bad.” 

“tim,” you say, through gritted teeth. you’re so over his shit.

“hmm…” he teases your entrance with the pad of his middle finger. 

“timothy.” 

“that’s more like it.” he slides it in, pumping it once, twice, before adding his ring finger and curling them inside of you. 

you can’t reply, too focused on the way he’s slowly easing the burning ache between your legs into something bigger, something hotter. coaxing the flame into an inferno as pleasure has you arching your back and digging your nails into his bicep.

he releases the breath he was holding once he’s fully seated inside of you. 

you’re connected like a pair of puzzle pieces. his hand finds your hair, wrapping the length around his fist. he thrusts once, slowly, before almost pulling all the way back out. you whimper, hooking your heels behind his back. he pinches one of your thighs, making you squirm. 

he thrusts in again, hard, his hips slamming into yours. you moan out loud, completely involuntarily. the glint in his eyes is back, but you barely get a glimpse before he’s throwing his head back, groaning through his teeth. 

“made me wait, so, so long-” he cuts himself with a groan.

“it’s been a week, drake.” your reply is punctuated with his hand on your tit, squeezing, hard. 

“what, sweetheart?” he bites out, his facial features harsh in the low light.

“i-, tim,” your brows are knitted together in confusion, a frustrating swirl of emotions flooding your body. pleasure, hurt, frustration, want, need.

 his pace has slowed, and he’s bent low, right in your face. you lean forward, trying to kiss him, but he only lets you get so close before he’s pulling away. 

just out of reach. his pace picks up again and the friction has you sobbing, your toes curling as he teases your clit. his gaze is burning into yours, the pleasure building, growing, deep inside of you, threatening to take you all the way, push you over the edge, and you’re there, you’re—

tim stops, pulling all the way out. he shifts, his thighs spread as he leans back against the seats. he looks over at you. 

“you wanna take over for me?” except it’s not really a question. 

his eyes are unreadable. he’s acting nonchalant but you can feel the need rolling off of him in waves. 

you nod, your eyebrows furrowed. he’s being so weird. he shoots you a little half smile, using his thumb to smooth out the dents on between your brows. 

you’re straddling him, slowly easing down. tim’s hands are running up and down your thighs, his touch familiar. 

this is the first time he’s ever said anything about you on top. 

you in control. 

he’s already moved the front seats forward, so you have plenty of room.  

you move your hips, hesitant. tim moves further down, leaning back more. watching.

you find a rhythm that works for you, hits all the right spots. you’re gasping out, your hands roaming tim’s shoulders and neck as his sit on your waist.

his eyes are on you, obviously engrossed in your actions. he’s nodding, giving you his approval. the look in his eyes is almost..proud. little sounds escape from behind his gritted teeth, his fingers squeezing into the meat of your hips. you want to package them up and save them for later.

you’ve never seen him let go like this before. he is one for control, always. obviously in his every day life, and as you’ve learned, especially in bed.

he’s learned how your body reacts. pulling you accordingly, as if on a rope, hand over hand, to a precipice.​ to the finish line.

just to keep you away from it.

because he can.

tim’s so attentive, so sharp, so alert. never misses a thing. that’s why he’s not surprised when you stop, breathing hard. your hands cover your face. tim wants you on top and you can’t even deliver. but your core aches from working for your pleasure, your body growing weak from the repetition. 

“tim, i can’t-” you barely pant out the words before his hips are finishing the work yours couldn’t. your arms go around his neck while his fall into place easily. one looped around your back, the other gripping at your ass as he thrusts into you relentlessly. he gives it a slap, one that stings, sending a spark up your spine. 

“i got you, sweetheart,” he whispers into your ear, dark and breathy. “always so worried, huh?” 

you can hear the smug smile in his voice. he’s just showing off now, running his mouth and doing all the work.

“..so worried i won’t let you finish.” 

he leans you away from him, watching the way your tits bounce with heavy-lidded eyes. his thumb finds your clit easily, getting you back towards the edge he had pulled you away from so abruptly. you shudder and fall apart in his arms, tim pulling you close again to thrust until he’s finished too. he inhales harshly, once, before groaning loudly, his arms tight around your torso. his release fills you, burning hot as it mixes with your own. 

“needed that,” he grunts out. “..needed you.” 

you thread your hands through his messy hair, smiling down at him. he smiles back, it's small, barely a stretch of the lips, but he looks content. satisfied.

you giggle, shoving him off. “drake, i have a test in the morning!”

“so?” he pulls you back towards him, kissing your cheek, your jaw, your neck. 

“so, i’d like to pass it?”

“i can make a couple of calls.” his thumb bumps your clit, and it’s so, so sensitive, but you force yourself to ignore it. 

“wha-? timothy.” you extract yourself again, and he lets you this time. his lip is pouty, the swell of it just heightening the effect. you level a look at him, and he runs a hand through his hair, nodding. 

“okay, okay, fine, whatever. go.” 

you grab your flip flops, try to smooth your hair down. 

you stumble out of the car, his words following you:

“and sweetheart?” 

you turn, holding your breath. his cheeks are pink, his eyes gleaming in the moonlight.

“pick up when i call you.” 

you make it back inside, closing your bedroom door and leaning back against it. you clench your thighs together, the warmth between your legs threatening to drip down, down, down. 

you realize: you’re not wearing any underwear. 

fuck, drake, again?

god, you’d been so strong.

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tim drake's fan club:

(taglist)

@dfgcbgdc @benditlikegumby93 @agent-nobody-knows @jaybunsblog @astermos-74 @ravenna-reid @borutoistrash1-blog @slut4animedilfs @nuggget-consumer-9000 @turtleturtleturtleturtleneck @hellishattempt @trashhighwaybird @sergeant-angels-trashcan @lilithskywalker @natsukicookies

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[devilat-thedoor]

happy…..manic monday?😈

sinful jake thoughts, anyone?

he won’t put the guitar down. he won’t pay you any attention despite the way you’ve been lingering in his vicinity. you tried to coax his focus elsewhere; traipsing around in your tiny shorts and tank top. “Jakey….can you take a break for a bit?” you came up behind him, walking your fingers along his shoulders and down his chest, bending to place a soft kiss to his neck.

he pulled his hand from the strings, fitting the pick between his lips, and removed your hands from his body. when he took the pick out of his mouth, he looked over his shoulder at you, “sweetheart, i’m in deep here… go read a book or watch a movie for a little bit.”

you stomped your foot, ready to throw a tantrum, as you moved to stand in front of him. “you’ve been at this all day, Jake! i don’t wanna watch tv anymore, i wanna spend time with my fucking boyfriend!” you glared at him, hoping he’d get the hint.

“don’t be a fucking brat… i’ll give you all the attention you want when i’m finished.” he began strumming the strings again, effectively silencing you and ending the conversation. you breathed out a scoff and turned on your heel, stalking out of the room. Jake paid you no mind, his fingers steadily dancing along the frets as he picked out a haunting melody, only looking up to shake his head when he heard the bedroom door slam shut. “fucking pouty little crybaby…” he mumbled to himself with a chuckle. it didn’t take long for him to get lost in his music again, nothing on his mind other than the series of chords he was putting together…until his phone vibrated in his pocket with a text message. he placed the guitar on the floor, leaning it against his chair, to dig his cell out. “jesus christ…” his mouth hung open at the photo he’d received from you. you were laying across the bed, wearing nothing but one of his tshirts pulled up above your breasts to reveal your naked body to him. the simple text that accompanied the picture, keep playing your guitar, i’ll play by myself. he couldn’t deny the way his cock started to twitch in his jeans, but he remained composed as he typed out a response. before he had the chance to hit send, another message came through from you. a video this time. when he clicked play, he didn’t even give it five seconds before he locked his phone and stood up, bounding through the house. you could hear his footsteps nearing the bedroom, “alright, sweetheart… you got my atten- what the hell?” to his surprise the door was locked. he listened to the sounds of your soft moans through the barrier before knocking impatiently. “okay, very fucking funny. open the door, babe.”

you giggled, calling back to him, “i can’t open the door right now, baby…..i’m in deep here…” your fingers were swirling over your clit for a moment before you dipped them inside of yourself with a drawn out whine.

Jake was still knocking incessantly, “Y/N, you made your point… baby, open the door. please…” you gave in when he began jiggling the door handle and got up to flip the lock. the second he heard the click, he flung the door open and rushed at you. he scooped you up and dropped you to the bed as you squealed. “you think you’re real clever, don’t you?” he straightened up to remove his shirt before moving on to unbutton his jeans.

staring up at him, you chewed on your lip with a smirk, “i got your attention, Jake…..so yeah…. i’d say i’m pretty clever.” you slowly parted your legs, watching his gaze travel from your face to your heat.

once his jeans were off, he kneeled on the bed, settling between your legs. he started running his hands up your thighs, feeling the warmth of your skin beneath his fingertips. “i’d wipe that smirk off your face, sweetheart……because you’re right….” his thumbs landed on either side of pussy, spreading it open to reveal your wetness, before he began tracing light patterns over your clit, “…..you do have my attention….. but i think you’ll come to learn that patience is a virtue, love….” when his sentence concluded, his thumb moved faster.

you were writhing on the mattress, moaning out for jake to keep going while his other hand slipped down to push a finger into you. “fuck, baby…. that’s so good.” when he felt you begin to clench, he removed his finger and let his thumb slow on your clit, causing you to pick your head up, “Jake, what the fuck?” you whimpered at the loss of contact, “why’d you stop?”

“patience, sweetheart.” Jake resumed his torturous swirls, smiling to himself at how easily you melted into his touch. “do you enjoy being a brat?…..” he added two fingers this time, curling them against your gspot.

moans and whines poured from your lips but when you didn’t answer his question, he started to slow again. “Jake, please….” you pleaded for him to keep going.

he stilled his finger inside of you, “answer me… do you enjoy being a brat? throwing tantrums when you don’t get your way?” his eyes locked with yours and you shook your head as you rocked your hips against his hand. his thumb stopped completely then, “don’t lie to me, Y/N. if you wanna cum, you gotta be honest.”

you were shaking your head frantically now, “okay! alright…..fine.” your breathing was becoming heavier as you chased a release. “i won’t lie, just- baby, please don’t stop again…” desperation seeped from your voice and it made him smirk with satisfaction.

he was putting all of his focus on the sensitive bundle, but his fingers remained motionless in your cunt. “say it…..i wanna hear you admit it.”

“Jake-”

“Aht… say it, sweetheart.”

you tried to hold your ground but it was bordering the line of overstimulation and your head was starting to spin. “fuck- okay, i- jesus!” he was finger fucking you before you could get the words out, but he still expected the admission and that much was clear by the way he cocked an eyebrow at you. “j- i…..i like being a brat, okay?” the words came rushed as you fought for a breath through your impending orgasm and jake started to move his fingers with a little more intensity, “i th- shit… i throw tantrums…..i do it because- because i know….it gets under your skin…”

“good girl.” he smiled wide and proud as your eyes rolled back and immediately lowered his mouth to your pussy, rolling his tongue over your clit. it was mere moments before you had your fingers twisting through his hair and you were grinding into his face. “come on, sweetheart. you can let it go now.” with one final push of his fingers and few flicks of his tongue, you were completely coming undone, calling out his name with a shaky voice and trembling body.

your grip loosened on his hair and you let your nails scratch at his scalp as he hummed against you, bringing you back to earth from your climax. “fucking hell, Jake…” as your breathing finally evened out, you couldn’t help the grin that stretched across your face when he looked up from between your thighs. “i know you said something about patience……but i don’t think i learned anything, baby.”

he met you with a challenging glare, “no? you didn’t learn?” Jake began crawling up your body, kissing his way up your torso as he stroked himself. when his face was inches above yours, he placed a single kiss to your lips before his own smirk grew wider. “maybe you’re a hands on learner, sweetheart….”

to be continued…..maybe?

tagging my babes that i think will appreciate this the most🩵

@ignite-my-fire @stardustvanfleet @jakesguitarsolo

[domxmarvel]

Patience is a virtue my pet

Masterlist

Order:8

large orange Frappuccino tarts

Leona x Gender neutral!Reader+“Come back to bed”

“Come back to bed” He begged you,barely awake himself.

“I told you I can’t be late for class again” You fixed up your uniform and walked over to him. “I promise I’ll make it up to you after class” You leaned down and kissed him,he immediately grabbed your arm. “I promise” He sighed and let go of you,before rolling over. Giving you his back like an angry cat,you ruffled his hair before leaving. 

All of class your phone was buzzing with messages asking when you’d be back,it was getting to the point where you were starting to worry about him. You decided to skip your last class and go check on him. The dorm was empty since everyone else was in class,even with the dorm empty you could still hear something. It wasn’t until you were just outside of Leona’s room that you realized what those sounds were,he was moaning. You were about to take a step back and let him finish before you knocked,but then you heard him moan your name. You slowly opened the door and walked in,careful not to make any noise until you were close enough.

“Y/N” He moaned out your names again as his hand moved faster,until he came.

“Couldn’t even wait for me to come back,could you?” He jumped up,looking at you.

“You’re the one who left me” He tried to fire but,but you quickly straddled him and pushed him down.

“And you’ll regret not waiting for me,I even skipped my last class to come back quicker” You leaned down,wrapping your hand around his throat slowly squeezing. “But maybe you don’t deserve it,being such a bad pet” You let go and flipped him over onto his stomach,gripping his tail harshly,he moaned loudly as you pulled on both his hair and tail. 

“Y/N,please”

“Please what?”

“Please fuck me”

“Do you really deserve that?” He went silent,you pulled at his tail “Answer me”

“No,no I don’t” You heard him breathing heavily and you realized.

“Did you really just cum from me just touching your tail?” You pulled him up by his hair,so his back was pressed against your chest. “Or maybe you like being handled like this,having someone put you in your place”

“Y/N,please I need you” His face and tone of voice was intoxicating,you couldn’t resist him any longer. 

“Y/N Y/N” He moaned out your name with each movement you made,everytime you pulled his hair or his tail. You were thankful that the dorm was empty and no one could hear this,not that you’d share this with anyone. You let go of his tail and grabbed his hips to steady yourself,you felt him move closer to you like he knew you were about to move faster. You moved at a brutal pace,forcing every sound out of him. “Y/N I’m-”

“Beg,beg for it” He didn’t waste a second before he started begging you. You dragged it out as long as you could before finally letting him cum. “Fine,you can cum” 

“Y/N”

“Maybe now you’ll learn to be patient”

[tripthelightfatality]

Lasciva Erotica |D.R.W|

Pairing: Danny x Reader

Summary: Y/N and Danny have always done phone sex while he was is on tour but he wanted to try something a little different.

Word count: 1017

18+ MINORS DNI

Warnings: Dom! Danny, Oral (F rec), Dirty talk, slight spanking, Daddy kink, face riding, slight teasing, begging, Porn without plot, pure fucking filth

I saw this picture and literally couldn’t help myself. Enjoy my honeys 🖤

“Are you ready for this sweet girl?”

You have Danny an enthusiastic nod and smile.

“More than ready, baby.”

In the bedroom, you and Danny are pretty adventurous. With the new Starcatcher world tour coming up, both of you wanted to get creative. Out of all the things on the list a sex tape stood out the most.

After getting ready, you slipped into his favorite pair of underwear and bent over the couch. Danny walked into the bedroom and took in the beauty in front of his very eyes.

“If you want to stop, safe word is red”

Danny pressed the record button on his phone and panned toward your bare ass. He moved down to show your soaked black thong. A satisfied groan came out of his mouth at the sight.

“Would you look at that…she’s just fucking dripping”

He marveled at how sexy you looked bent over the couch. Usually on the tour you’ll do phone sex and nudes but Danny wanted to try something new. He wanted to have some content to get him off on the nights he has alone time.

You bit your lip and whimpered at his lustful tone. Danny trailed his fingers from the nape of your neck to your lower back. A shiver ran through your spine at his feather light touch. To test the waters, you slightly pushed your hips in his direction.

In that very moment all you wanted was him to touch the place where it hurt the most. A loud crack rang out as Danny smacked your right cheek. You jumped a little bit at the sudden pain but welcomed the dull throb that followed. The anticipation of his face being buried deep in your pussy only made you wetter.

Danny’s calloused fingertips grazed your aching clit through your panties and rubbed light circles. You whined softly as a plea for relief but it fell upon deaf ears. As the old saying goes, patience is a virtue but the fire of wanton is saying otherwise. Danny shook his head disappointedly.

“Is my good girl getting fussy on me? Tell daddy what you want and I just might give it to you”

If there were two sounds that are music to Danny’s ears it would be the noises you make when he fucks you stupid and the merciless begging for his touch. You’ve always loved it when he took charge in the bedroom.

“P-Please eat my pussy, daddy…I need it so bad,”

You whimpered pleadingly. The ache between your legs was starting to become unbearable and the only thing that would cure it is Danny eating you out like it’s his last day on this planet.

Danny darkly chuckled and pulled down your panties. He brushed his thumb against your slick lips and slowly pulled it away to show how truly wet he has made you.

“Fuck me angel…Looks like I got your sweet little cunt weeping under my touch. Is this all for me?” He purred.

You went to answer him but gasped as he pulled apart your cheeks with a firm grip. A little bit of your slick dribbled down your thigh while you clenched around nothing. Subtle shifting noises indicated that you were getting closer to what you’re wanting. Glancing backwards, you noticed that Danny flipped the camera to point at his face.

He pulled his hand away from your cheek and posed just like the faces he makes on stage; finger horns and tongue out. As Danny dove into your folds,a gasp flew out of your lungs and jaw went slack.

The noises coming from your mouth could put even the most seasoned pornstar to shame as he rolled the tip of his tongue from your clit all the way to your fluttering hole. Danny’s grip on your cheek tightened with each sound flowing out of you.

You couldn’t help but grind against his face to chase your pleasure. Another open palm cracked against your cheek as a warning. You knew that Danny would get you there but it would be at his own pace.

A smirk spread across Danny’s face as he fucked his tongue into you. The cacophony of moans and opened mouth slurping made you throb against the very thing bringing forth such pleasure.

He knew your body like the back of his hand and all that would make you tick. His lips wrapped your clit and began to suck. You just about collapsed right then and there. The familiar burn in your stomach was rising to the surface.

“O-Oh my fucking god! Right there daddy!”

Danny shook his head back and forth like a predator feasting upon his prey. You tried to form words but the only thing that came out were pitiful whimpers. To add onto your impending climax, Danny detached from your clit and flattened his tongue against your aching slit.

“Can’t get enough of daddy’s mouth huh? You like it when he eats your pretty pussy until you’re a slutty fucking mess?”

You mewled and nodded feverishly. With the combination of his words and tongue, all that was on your mind is painting his mouth with your juices.

Danny had one rule when it came to him being in charge; cumming is not a request but a privilege. If you wanted to finish then you absolutely had to ask and make it pretty.

“M-May I please cum, daddy? Oh god please let me”

“Make a fucking mess of my face, angel”

He growled into your pussy and sucked on your bundle of nerves harder. A scream of unbridled pleasure filled the room as you came all over Danny’s face.

Danny swallowed you down as if he was bestowed nectar from the gods themselves. Soon as the high came to an end, you tried to squirm away as overstimulation began to set in.

While you were lost in your post orgasm haze, you didn’t hear Danny getting up off the floor and pressing himself into you. His dick was unbelievably hard just from eating you out alone. He placed his hand on your hip and lightly squeezed.

“Oh darling, we’re just getting started. Daddy still has to cum too”

[orchidyoonkook]

To What We Were Before, And All The Things After | JJK | Ch. 2

Title: Unknown Numbers and Sharp Tongues

Pairing: Prince!College Student!JK x Fine Arts Major!(F)!Reader

Series Rating//Genre: (M) | College AU, Mild Royalty AU, Smut, Angst, Fluff, S2F2L, Indiffernce to lovers, sloooowwww ass burn

Summary: You get a text from an unknown number and it flips your day upside down.

Warnings: PG13, mild swearing, arguments

Word Count: 3065

Release Date: February 2, 2023, 1:40PM

A/N 1: She’s shorter but just as important

Series: Chapter One

It’s 12:07pm the Wednesday after the assembly. You're sitting on your bed sketching when a text vibration sounds from somewhere within the blankets crumpled beneath you. 

A pencil lead stained hand carefully snakes its way through the sheets to find your phone, and after locating it by your feet, you see a message from an unknown number waiting to be read.

Unknown Sender [12:07pm]: Hey, is this YN?

You raise a brow at the semi-suspicious text.

Normally when this happens, you just delete the message. You have everyone you're willing to speak with in your contacts already, so you know that it’s most likely spam. But the difference with this one?

They know your name. 

That being said, your guy friends back home have been known to, on occasion, pull shit because they know you can’t do anything about it. 

Though, that has never once stopped you from waiting to see them again in person and retaliating. Patience is a virtue and all that, but you think they’d of learned by now…

So you fire back, just in case.

You [12:08pm]: Hobi I s2g if this is you again I’m sending Nayeon that picture of you from 9th grade with shutter shades on and your ass stuck in a tuba 

Unknown Sender [12:08pm]: Oh wow, uhm…no, its not Unknown Sender [12:09pm]: But remind me never to get on your bad side.  Unknown Sender [12:10pm]: It’s Jungkook actually... I may have grabbed your number from Yuri’s phone. I hope it’s okay I messaged you 

Jungkook?

As in The Prince of the Western Shores, Jungkook?

Well...

This certainly isn’t how you thought your afternoon was going to go. 

You figured you'd never hear from him again after Monday’s assembly, like everyone else he’d greeted—Yuri aside apparently. Yet here you were, on your bed, in your university dorm room, having a midday text conversation with Prince Jeon Jungkook of all people.

You laugh to yourself and quickly change his name in your contacts, keeping it subtle. You don’t want someone to see his name pop on your screen and then suddenly have a legion of people harassing you about how you got the prince's number, and if they could get it from you. 

You [12:11pm]: yeah, it’s fine

And why wouldn't it be? You don’t dislike him, though he seemed to have thought so. Sure, you don’t particularly like the guy yet, but you're confident he feels the same about you—if he even thinks of you, that is.  

He probably just wants recommendations for things to do this weekend or to know where the cleanest washrooms on campus are. God forbid his royal bottom touch a less than sanitary toilet seat.

PJK [12:13pm]: Im afraid she had to explain to me who ‘blueballzbitch’ was when I accidentally saw your text to her the other day. Apparently my reaction after reading it was very funny

You [12:13pm]: I cant believe she still hasnt changed my name in her phone! That bitch!! she promised :( You [12:14pm]: Thats only my name because i told her she couldnt bring guys back to our dorm after 1 AM anymore! 

PJK [12:14pm]: can I ask why?

You [12:15pm]: there may have been an incident of a very drunk half naked man climbing into my bed at 4 am instead of hers….  You [12:15pm]: And needless to say, not the nicest way to wake up

PJK [12:16pm]: no I would think not. Though that explains her reaction a bit better

You didn’t even want to know. 

She did kick that guy out the second she heard your scream though, drunk as she was. But it didn’t stop her from moping for a week at your new rule.

Tough, you’d had a test the next day, so your decision was final. 

Your academics wouldn’t pay the price for someone else’s actions. On that you were and always have been, firm. You’ve even lost a few friends because of it.

But now your starting to wonder why he wanted to message you in the first place.

You [12:17pm]: i dont mean to be rude, but why did you save my number? To be honest i didnt think I’d hear from you again after monday

PJK [12:18pm]: well if we’re being honest…

There are a million different ways he could follow that sentence, and your mind is simultaneously running through all of them.

It takes him a few minutes, and a couple disappearance and reappearances of the texting in progress bubble, before a reply comes. Your pencil may or may not be a bit chewed on the end as a result.

PJK [12:21pm]: I was hoping that we could be friends, or acquaintances at least. I dont mean to come on too strong, its just that…. well you’re the only one whos really treated me like a regular guy, and i’d like to have at least one person to speak to who wont ‘glaze over the truth with pretty white lies’ just because of who I am. Its a surprisingly hard attribute to come by in people when you have words like “prince” and “your highness” attached to your name PJK [12:22pm]: Everyone either wants something from me or something I can do for them, and when we met? I could see you just…didn’t. It’s like you didnt even care I was there and that was incredibly refreshing for me PJK [12:23pm]: so um, yeah… that’s why

Oh… 

Oh. 

You were expecting anything else. Like literally anything else. He could’ve messaged you saying he wanted to give up being prince to join a traveling circus and was wondering if you knew the quickest train route into town and you would’ve been less surprised than you are right now.

But…Friends? He just wanted to be friends?

You guess you played your part a little too well on Monday. A part you didn't even realize you were performing. 

Was it really so difficult for people to treat him normally that the only person who had done so in three days, was you? And it was so noticeable that he sought you out because of it? His professors, at least, would have treated him like any other student…right?

You sit up, sketch long discarded on your bedside table. 

What would Yuri think about this? What would Nel think? Jungkook isn't just some guy from your Advanced Colour Theory class, he's the prince of your kingdom. 

You know your boyfriend wouldn't care if Jungkook kissed your hand in a passing greeting, that’s the standard greeting for every woman. 

But friends? 

Regular contact? 

Potentially being seen in public with him? 

Even a high ranking societal man would feel threatened, let alone Nel; the highschool boy you fell in love with from your tiny hometown.

Biting your lip, you think. 

You’re not an idiot. You know if people see you—a girl—hanging out with Jungkook—the prince, but more importantly, a boy—publicly, they will start talking. You know how the media make grand stories from two anonymously sourced, out of context quotes and a grainy picture from 100 feet away. 

What you don’t know is if you would or even could handle the public speculation that came with that. 

You don't want the media to come between you and your education. You don’t want to be at the center of attention. You worked way too hard to get where you are to have it washed away with a shitty ‘Prince Jungkook's college fling’ article that holds headlines for less than a week before the news cycle changes. 

Your credibility would be gone in an instant. And you’d only ever be remembered as ‘that girl the prince probably slept with in college.’

You should say no.

You’re going to say no.

—Wait.

Are you even allowed to say no?

Your phone pings again.

PJK [12:24pm]: i really just want my university experience to be as normal as possible before having to trade it all in for a crown and kingdom. It’s my last shot to experience life as a person before becoming a symbol and im hoping youll be kind enough to help me with that  PJK [12:24pm]: but i understand if you dont want to. Like i said in my speech, im not unaware of the repercussions of my celebrity, and its effects on others, both positive and negative. So please by all means, whatever answer you give, i’ll understand

Shit.

Shit!

Now you’ll feel like an ass if you say no, and you know that wasn’t his intention with the message, but you can't help it. He just wants to be as ordinary as he can be for a while. That isn’t a lot to ask—of anybody. 

After re-reading his messages about a dozen more times, you find your entire view of Jungkook shifting in an instant. 

Maybe he was the spoiled, rich, and plate delivered opportunities prince you expected him to be, but funnily enough, somewhere along the way it was you who forgot that he was an regular person. Just like you had told Yuri such a short time ago, and just like you now had to remind yourself. 

Jungkook’s really not much different than someone without all the special features his title brings him.

And with that in mind, you know your reply.

You [12:30pm]: can i think about it?

And not seconds later.

PJK [12:30pm]: absolutely.

A breath you didn’t know you were holding releases.

PJK [12:31pm]: that’s already further than i thought i’d get—if we’re still being honest. 

You [12:33pm]: im always honest, you dont have to worry about that. And same goes for you, dont worry about being truthful with me. Lies only create problems, and i dont have the time for them

PJK [12:35]: glad to hear it. I look forward to your answer, whenever and whatever you decide

Gently tossing your phone back onto your bed, you leave the conversation at that. You know you wouldn’t be able to make your mind up without going through all possible outcomes in your head first. And Yuri is usually a good enough listener to pipe in with decent advice now and then. 

So, for now, you pick up your pencil and sketch pad, and wait for Yuri to return from her afternoon class. 

A few hours later, and a decent way through your third life study, Yuri bursts through the front entryway. Your bedroom door’s open, and you’ve got a clear view of her shucking off her shoes and outer layers after casting her books onto the dining room table. 

So much for your focus. 

But you're glad she’s back, your conversation with Jungkook from earlier is still wracking your brain.

“YN, Sweets! You are NEVER going to believe the day I’ve had!” Yuri makes her way over to your bed, inhaling deeply enough you know a monologue is about to follow.

“Me too! But you first,” you slip in before the floodgates burst, knowing all her focus will be solely centered on you the second you mention Jungkook reaching out. 

“Jungkook invited me to lunch!” 

Or maybe not.

“Well sort of, that’s why I’m late getting back. He asked if there was a more secluded place to eat on campus,” she says the word like it’s a secret. Like she thinks he asked for seclusion to have it be a more intimate setting with her, versus a more private space for him. 

“So I showed him that little cafe behind the greenhouse that no one ever goes to cuz it’s too far away from central campus—you know the one that might as well just be a part of the greenhouse cuz of how close it is?” 

You nod. You were very familiar with that cafe, frequently going there to paint the flowers in the windows, and also, to think. But she doesn’t know that. It was sort of a safe haven for you, because like she said, it wasn’t a very popular place on campus, so it was quiet. 

You didn’t know Yuri even knew about it. 

Now sitting criss-crossed on the end of your bed, she continues, “Yeah, so I brought him there and we both got coffee, then I got a croissant and he got a sandwich. But YN, get this: we take. our coffee. the. same. way. Try and tell me we’re not made for one another now! Same major, same coffee, next thing you know we’ll be finding out we’d picked out the same baby names.” 

She stops to take a breath and you take your cue. “Woah there, Yurls, slow down a bit on that last one,” she makes a face at you. You ignore it. “But I think it’s great you're making a new friend that you have common interests with and are excited about,” you say, putting extra emphasis on ‘friend,’ thinking back to your conversation with Jungkook about people only ever wanting things he could give them. Surely you could subtly help your friend this way. “Just try to remember you have to be friends first before anything else happens.”

She doesn’t miss a beat. “Friends? YN please! We’re practically already dating, that’s three times in as many days he’s asked to hang out,” she closes her eyes, hugging herself. “I can almost hear the wedding bells.”

You look at her plainly and try your best not to sigh. 

She must know that this is just Jungkook taking her up on her offer, right? The one she made after seeing him off to the cafe by the biz-admin building the other day?

Before they parted ways, Yuri’d mentioned to him that if he wanted more inside knowledge or help getting around the campus he could ask her. And it made sense, having all their classes in the same area, when he said, ‘I’ll take you up on that.’

You know, because not unlike this conversation, she’d rushed home right after to tell you. 

Jungkook’s just trying to get his bearings in what is clearly still a very new experience for him and Yuri’s reading into it all wrong. 

You look at your friend who’s staring dreamily at nothing, more than likely caught up in whatever wedding scenarios of herself and Jungkook her brain is creating. 

Waving a fruitless hand in front of her face before snapping your fingers, you break her trance. “Helloooo? Earth to Yuri, come back down here please so I can talk some sense into youuuuu.” 

“I’m here,” she says, smacking your hand away playfully, gaze snapping to your less than amused one. Her smile falters at the sight. “What’s that look for?”

“Oh nothing, just that you sound like a delusional teenager instead of a functional adult at university pursuing a degree. You just met the guy three days ago and you’re already picturing your wedding together? Because you hung out over coffee twice and showed him where his classes are? He’s still a stranger, Yuri. Can’t you hear yourself?”

Her expression quickly changes to one of offense, and maybe even hurt. 

Perhaps you’d been a little too honest, but it’s not like this was new for you two. Sometimes she needed a swift blow to knock her down and she knows this, she knows you’d never intend to hurt her feelings. You always wanted what was best for her, and you know she feels the exact same way for you. 

So you’re shocked when she says, “You know you don’t have to be such a bitch about it if you’re going to be jealous,” crossing her arms defensively.

Jealous? You are anything but jealous, and you wonder why that’s where her mind jumps to first, brows scrunching in confusion.

“I’m not jealous. Have you forgotten about Nel? Boyfriend of five years, highschool sweetheart, ringing a bell?”

“Nel’s not a prince YN,” she counters in a tone so even, it’s unsettling. “And it wouldn’t be so unheard of for a woman in a relationship to be jealous of her friend who’s in one with a prince she wants for herself.” 

Oh, so that’s where she wants to go with this. She thinks that Jungkook will somehow make you forget about the five wonderful years with Nel. Like half a decade measures up to nothing if it means getting someone with a better name and a bigger paycheck. 

Fine.

If she wants to get bitchy about it, so will you. 

“Yeah, well it’s a good thing you’re not dating one then, isn’t it? Don’t get so defensive when all I’m doing is trying to help you see that.”

Yuri stands dramatically from the bed, clearly pissed, and storms out of your room, grabbing her things from the dining room table.

“I’m going to my macroeconomics class. By the time I get back, either have your door closed, or don’t be here.”

She leaves as rushed as she came, and you try not to flinch at the front door slamming shut, but do anyway. 

You shove your work off to the side, bringing your knees up to rest your elbows on while the palms of your hands cover your eyes, giving yourself a moment to breathe and process. 

This isn’t the first time this has happened and it certainly won't be the last. It was a downside between your personalities. You were the anchor who kept her from soaring too high in the clouds, just like she was the helium that kept you from drowning. 

But sometimes she wanted to see the stars, and sometimes you were scared of the surface. 

Releasing a deep breath, you decide to head out, having finished school for the day anyway. You only had morning classes on Wednesdays—an intentional scheduling on your behalf to have somewhat of a break midweek. You work hard but also know that burnout can kill.

Switching out your pencils for watercolour paint trays, and your sketchpad for your watercolour paper, you decide that the greenhouse sounded great right about now, especially now that you knew Yuri wouldn’t be there. 

There isn’t a better place for you to go and blow off some steam. 

Tossing your brushes, materials, travel water and wallet in a tote, you slide on your shoes and leave the dorm. The door closes much quieter this time. 

Chapter Three: Greenhouse Muses and Surprise Guests

A/N 2: I’m pretty sure this is the shortest chapter in the series (so far) but as you’ve read it’s an important step so I hope that’s okay!

<- Back

[ambyandony]

heres the limbo fusions with the rest of the vento aureo main protags

Limbo + Mista

Mimbo - any pronouns

"Are u lost bbygrl? :)"

(They give a weird stare if asked for a full name. They only use Mimbo, even though it’s a combination of Limbo’s forename and Mista’s surname.)

most stable Limbo fusion merely by virtue of Mista’s simple ability to just not give a fuck.

GET YOUR GUN OUT OF YOUR CLEAVAGE!

bitch gon step on my fuckin toe bitch with them fuckin cowgirl fuckin boots

VITALLY important that you know that despite being easily mistaken as fem on first glance, Mimbo also has the deepest voice of any Limbo fusion for literally no reason other than it’s funny to me. They also have sideburns

Stand: Mighty Wings - Redirects Signals. Still a colony Stand, looks like tiny little pastel fighter jets!

Limbo + Abbacchio

Lio Adkio - they/them

“Don’t say SHIT about my mascara or my eyeliner.”

“In fact, don’t fucking look at me or I’ll have to kill you or myselves.”

stable only because when Limbo started panicking in the mindspace, Abbacchio simply pointed and snapped at her to CALM THE FUCK DOWN. and she did so immediately.

nicer than Abbacchio. not by that much, though… but weirdly apologetic about it.

the eyeliner doesn’t appear to be due to crying, it seems that it just looks like that.

bazongas?

Stand: Keeping The Faith? Never Too Late? Shawty like a melody-

“rewinds” signals to previous states or connections and/or can do a “replay” of those signals’ succeeded actions (i.e. having a phone replay a prior conversation) Unfortunately, it’s pretty useless in combat.

Limbo + Giorno

Glimbo Giovadkins - she(?)/they/them

“Wouldn’t you like to hear one of my 765 fun facts about aerodynamics, animals or Air Bud?”

“I also have a few facts about botany, blood and birds.”

stable, until they’re not. they’re incredibly calm and delightful, but when they think someone’s mad at them they panic and start excessively apologising.

genuinely the softest cutest sweetest lil bitch you’ve ever seen. also traumatised with a guilty conscience and can flip on a dime in a terrifying way.

shortest Limbo fusion for no clear reason? shorter than both Limbo and Giorno.

Squalo’s worst fear.

sounds pretty much how you would expect.

Stand: Crystal Dolphin - can transform signals into life—by taking the signals out of something, typically disabling it, they can create life like Gold Experience can. The more complex the device, the bigger its potential creation.

Limbo + Buccellati

Bimbo Luno Adkellati - they/them

"...I've lost the conversation. I'm gonna go make pizza!"

Megan Thee Stallion?!

has no idea what’s going on for some reason? always looks a little confused and loses track of conversations very quickly.

very good with kids! practically unable to have a coherent conversation with Abbacchio. They don’t seem too distressed, but they just stop making much sense and seem to confuse themselves.

Stand: When Doves Cry? Perhaps Freewill? Uhm… I don’t know? Maybe it can sort of, ‘zip’ signals together, combining two or more functions into one sent signal? Bruno's ability is just so specific... I can't think of many ideas.

Limbo + Fugo

Fimbo (Pannalimbo Adkigo) - they/them

"STOP TALKING ABOUT FREUD BEFORE I KILL YOU WITH MY FUCKING BRACELETS!!!"

( Note: all currently depicted instances of Fimbo seem to be post-PHF, as Fimbo is almost always seen with the mouth scars hidden by the tattoo.)

enemy of the state. punches fascists. lovecore punk goth. in terms of authority figures they only respect Buccellati and Limbo’s dad.

AuDHD trauma poster child. Short fuse but very friendly until something sets them off and they start screaming and or burst into fucking tears.

Self-love in the sense that the fusionmates care about each other deeply and both sides are trying to look out for the other knowing the other won't look out for themself.

Stand: Cabin Fever - Terrifying deathly virus that, rather than being airborne like Purple Haze, is passed though signal transmission. Fimbo doesn’t know if the virus is the same as Purple Haze, a different strain of it, or something entirely different. It spreads most quickly through vocal communication between two people.

Limbo + Narancia

Nimbus Ghirgins - he/they/she

"tummyache... :("

Libby why does my stomach feel like it’s going to fucking collapse in on itself and why are my knuckles torn? aren’t they supposed to bruise when you punch?

bad relationship with food. Hanahaki disease, what are you doing here? (/ij)

sometimes they find Mista sitting around, sit next to him and fall asleep on him immediately

incredibly bad with emotions and doesn’t even get angry they just get overwhelmed instantly at any presence of significant emotion

Stand: Falling in Love/Hard on the Knees - who the fuck let this kid control CO2 emissions?? They can barely control themselves???

[goombasa]

You Should Make a Personal Website

I don't mean a site to promote a business, or for financial purposes, or anything like that. No, I mean just a basic website about something you like. Make a site talking about a series you like to read or watch. Make a shrine to a ship that you enjoy. Make a weird, experimental, scattershot archive of your favorite gifs or weird fonts that you've collected over the years.

It's honestly a lot easier than you would think, despite what every single advertisement for Squarespace would have you believe.

First, why would you want to do this, making your own personal website if you don't have a big purpose for it? Well, back when the web was fresh and new, folks would just set up a web page just for the sake of sharing an interest that they had, or talking about some little nuance that they enjoyed. It could have been as broad or as simple as a person wanted, and like-minded sites, rather than vying for space on a search engine's front page, would be connected together with each other via things called web rings, basically a group of similarly themed websites that helped to promote each other just by virtue of being part of the same group. And then, of course, there were personal link collections, a massive dump of other sites that the webmaster thought were worth sharing that might lead outside the limits of any web ring they were a part of.

Beyond just sharing an interest or a passion with the world, regardless of how small or narrow it might seem to others, a web site is an experimental canvas to express yourself, your own little slice of the internet where you can do basically whatever you want with it. It doesn't have to be perfect, in fact perfection is something that should be ignored when it comes to your own vision. We've been trained to look at websites and see them as these incredibly slick, sleek looking, perfect and polished, suit-and-tie landing pages that are more just there to entice you into whatever a business is trying to see you. There are very few web pages out there in the major space of the web that pack as much personality as a thrown together Geocities site. Even sites that are attempting to have more of a laid back, casual aesthetic tend to be so precisely designed that it loses a lot of the magic of a site being built by an inexperienced hand, or someone who isn't interested in making something sleek and appealing. Yes, you want your site to be legible, at least, but the dearth of creativity in modern websites can't really be denied. So many of them look the same or use the same sort of default layout. Not saying that older sites didn't sometimes have similar layouts as well, but the odds of seeing at least a unique spin or font or color combination is much, much higher.

Compare that to where most folks will gather to share their creations nowadays, social media sites. In general, the creative freedom that you have over, say, a twitter profile or a facebook page, is very limited and in general, your stuff is basically just put into a big feed that folks will scroll over or past as they flip along their phones.

But don't you have to know how to program or write code to make a really impressive website? After all, we have tons of services like Squarespace and Wix and the plugin market for things like Wordpress that are meant to make the arduous process of building a site as quick, easy, and painless as possible.

Speaking of someone who works on a Wix site as part of my day job, I hate things like their drag-and-drop interface. It is, at least from my experience, slow and clunky and despite the variety of options presenting to you, most of them feel very limited and samey, with little room for individual expression. Add to it, they also show you a lot of options that you can't access if you aren't paying for certain tiers of service, so there is also an element of upselling to their services that I really don't appreciate.

When it comes to building a personal site, all you really need to know is HTML, CSS, and a little bit of Java, but only if you want the site to have some cute little interactive elements, which are totally optional. HTML is honestly super easy to learn, because it's not even really a coding laguage, it's more of a language for structure. You wrap things in specific tags that tell the text how to present itself. HTML on its own is very easy to learn and there isn't a huge amount too it, but it is very ugly on its own.

That's where CSS comes in. Not going to front, CSS is, for me, the most confusing part of the process. It's important, but it's also overwhelming. CSS is is a LOT looser in terms of its setup compared to HTML and is meant to do a lot more; it is used to alter the font, the color, how pictures look, the placement of text and elements, the shape of buttons and links, everything about how a website looks beyond its very basic structure, which is built off of HTML.

Beyond that, if you do want to have some fun little widgets here and there, a little bit of Javascript can help add a bit of pizzazz to your site, but it is far from necessary, especially if you're still learning. You're allowed to be sloppy and imperfect, you are allowed to make something that isn't visually cohesive or even all that appealing at first. You are learning. You are making something for fun, or because you enjoy it, or enjoy what you're trying to communicate.  Learn HTML, take your time learning CSS, and then after you've had some fun getting to grips with the absolute basics of that, then think about spicing it up after the fact.

And again, it's not like this is tough to learn, or at least not tough to find resources on the subject. I'll be linking to a bunch of various resources for this sort of stuff. And hey, if you don't want to code an entire web page or website from scratch, there are plenty of places to grab pretty detailed templates of elements for your site, or even full pages that you then can just inject your writing or pictures or links into without having to go through the whole situation yourself. This can also be useful for a beginner because it allows you to see exactly how the HTML and CSS is used to create a specific effect, and gives you something you can experiment with and see results on without having to build it from scratch, which is a handy learning experience.

And where would you put your brand new site once you've put it together. Well, Wordpress does allow traditional HTML sites to be put up, but they're more about making those slick, eye-popping websites that we've discussed before. You could also just pay for a domain name and some hosting and then suss it out from there, but you do have a few places where, rather than putting in a substantial investment, you can throw up a site for basically nothing and still have plenty of room to experiment with your site and make something fun and interesting.

My personal recommendation is Neocities, a Geocities-inspired service that very much wants to bring back the idea of the personal website and web rings in general. They are completely free to use, and focus specifically on HTML pages. They do have a paid tier, which is only five dollars, that does give you a bunch of added features, including the ability to host multiple sites, fifty gigs of story as opposed to one (which might not seem like a lot, but a basic HTML website which is mostly text will almost never come close to that amount of storage, and the ability to give your site a custom domain (though you will have to buy that separately). I mostly recommend Neocities because their entire mission statement is what I've been talking about here; bringing back the creative freedom of having your own playground to toy with however you wish, and experiment with making something that just looks funky, in the best way possible. Plus, it gives an excuse to brows through all the other stuff that people have been putting up as well.

So do it. Even if it's just as a little hobby or a side project, give it a go. You have nothing to lose and might even pick up a skill you really enjoy flexing. Who knows, it might even lead you down a new path, or at the very least give you a creative outlet that you weren't aware of beforehand. It's well worth the effort.

Now, let's round this out with a quick list of some various sources that can help you in your quest to design that which lies in your heart, yeah?

W3 Schools: This is more a straight up reference site, and you can find tutorials here on a ton of different programming languages, but their HTML and CSS section is very robust, and will show you examples of various commands and tags and how they work. I find it's layout a little bit confusing at times, but it's a good place to go back to when you're looking for examples on how specific tags or commands work.

Sadgirl Online: This is basically a one-stop shop for tons of references and resources for making a website. It not only has a bunch of free assets like fonts and backgrounds that you can use in your own projects, but it also has a section for learning HTML and CSS that gives some very detailed explanations on how everything works, and even has a website generator that will generate a web page template for you to use in your own projects. Sadly, the site itself is no longer actively updated, but everything on it is still in working order, and most of the information on it is very timeless. The link section is also invaulable in finding more tools and resources as well. At the very least, I'd say it's an excellent starting point for any aspiring website builder.

Word to HTML: If you really don't feel comfortable writing out your own HTML, you can use this tool to quickly paste in things that you wrote in Word, or other formatting programs, and turn it into HTML that will keep the formatting, such as text position and style. Useful for if you're writing stories or long-form blog posts and you don't want to manually put in line breaks or paragraph tags yourself.

Web Guide: A basic and straightforward text tutorial on how to begin building a website based on HTML and CSS. It's even a site that was made and hosted on Neocities! It's another really good starting point if you need to figure out the very basics of HTML and CSS.

Color Hex: Once you start getting into the depths of CSS, you'll want to familiarize yourself with the hexadecimal codes for colors, since the pre-baked colors you can access otherwise are pretty basic and limited. Color Hex will show you popular colors with hexadecimal numbers, and can also general color palettes for you that will either contrast sharply, or look very nice together, which might help inspire the look and feel of your website.

[stratossphere]

mopey

ville doesn’t handle no sleep and a lot of stress very well.

warnings: gn!reader, ville is angsty, reader is a little angsty too, mige being annoying, fluff

word count: 4.9k

tags: @asskickedbygirl @lieutenant-cinnamon-roll @kissofdawn666 @brandons-wife @valos-venus-doom @ghoulishguns @h3artk1ller

— —

If one thing could be said about planning sessions before a music video was truly put into motion, it was that Ville did not handle the stress of it very well at all.

He'd been up for most of the night on the phone with his management team, the band, and a production company in Helsinki, so he was tired, and when he got stressed along with being tired, he was basically out of commission emotionally. So, as a result, he'd been floating around the apartment for most of the morning like a silent vampire, barely uttering a word to you as he shifted between smoking, working on his laptop, or just plain sitting and suffering. It was a little frustrating, because you knew he wouldn't talk to you or break the cycle until he was ready, but you understood, so you gave him his space.

But, misery loved company, so although you were doing your best to give Ville space, he was not doing his best to allow you to give him space.

You’d spent the last half hour or so lying in bed and organizing your notebook full of loose video ideas into something that you could put into an organized outline after you'd gotten sick of feeling the misery radiating off of your boyfriend in waves where he'd been on his laptop on the couch, when said boyfriend came into the room. You looked up to him with as much subtlety as you could manage, but he barely even glanced in your direction as he turned away from you to start digging through one of the drawers in his dresser.

He did so for about a minute before he slammed it shut with a fresh pack of cigarettes in his hand, ripping it open with his teeth and then sticking one between his lips as soon as he had the top flipped open. You then watched as he sat down at the edge of the bed, taking a long drag once his cigarette was lit before he slouched forward and put his face in his hands.

He sat there for a good few minutes, during which you were unable to focus yourself back onto your notebook due to the fact that, once again, his misery was radiating off of him in waves, before you finally gave up on trying to leave him alone completely. Words couldn't hurt too bad, right?

"What did the team say?" You tried, setting your notebook on the bed next to you and then waiting for him to take his face out of his hands.

He never did.

You sighed, sitting forward in bed and wondering whether or not it would be helpful to touch him at the moment. "Ville, honey? Is there anything I can do for you?"

A deep sigh, but no response. About what you expected. You then decided you would try your luck a little further, crawling to the end of the bed where he was sitting. You saw him visually tense at the movement of the mattress, but you continued until you were sitting behind him so that you could wrap your arms gingerly around him from behind. He didn't resist, but he also didn't show any signs of acknowledgement, so you couldn't decide whether or not to take it as a win.

"Are you doing okay? You're worrying me a little bit." You mumbled, feeling his back rise just slightly as he inhaled off of his cigarette with no hands before smoke was clouding up around his head.

"Yes." Lo and behold, you earned yourself a one word answer. It wasn't much, but it wasn't nothing, either. He had only answered the bare minimum of what you'd said to him, and you tried to will yourself to have some patience with the process of opening him up.

"Can I do anything?" You asked again, your finger dancing over his smooth skin on his arm where he was resting his elbows on his knees. Another sigh.

"No." Oh, so that's how this was going to be. Patience is a virtue. You really tried to remind yourself that as you watched him ash his cigarette right onto the floor in front of him.

"I think you should take a break from work until tomorrow, babe. We've got like, another month to plan this out." You said decisively, being patient but also putting a stop to the thing you knew was making him so morose. You leaned off of him then, turning around and leaning your back against his before stretching your legs out and crossing one over the other. He gave no complaint, so you got comfortable like that. "Let's do something else. You wanna go for a walk?"

"No." Great. Helpful and cooperative, as always.

"We could go out for drinks." You offered instead, trying to play into things you knew he liked best. Once again:

"No."

"I could...suck you off." As soon as that popped into your head, you were pretty satisfied with the idea. If you couldn't pull him out of his bad mood, you could at least suck him out of it. Or so you thought.

"No." Jesus Christ. That always worked. You paused for a second, frustration taking over momentarily as you almost snapped out in impatience, but you quickly regained your composure before you tried your last resort.

"We could take a shower together and then nap." That's usually what you both did when he was stressed and couldn't relax in the mornings before his shows, and it always worked to at least bring him down to a level where you could actually get more than half a sentence out of him. So, thank fucking god, he didn't immediately veto that idea.

"...in a minute." Well, that was more than the word 'no', so you were counting it as a win. You then decided to sweeten the moment a little bit, sitting up and then getting off the bed before you were circling around the side and standing in front of Ville, who had finally taken his face out of his hands and was instead just staring forward while looking deep in thought.

He finally looked up when you stepped between his spread legs, your hands sliding over his shoulders and then cupping the back of his head as you slowly coaxed his cheek against your stomach. He relaxed a little bit into you as you hugged his head against you, your fingers carding gently through his hair in your best attempt to calm him down at least a little bit. He then reached out and set his cigarette in the ashtray on the bed that you'd been using before he wrapped both arms tightly around you and let out a heavy breath.

"Didn't sleep. Feeling a little psychotic right now." He mumbled out his explanation for his mood against the fabric of your shirt, and you silently wondered if he realized that it was glaringly obvious anytime he hadn't slept enough. By his own words, he became schizo if he didn't get enough sleep (which was why he napped so much), and it didn't take much to throw him completely out of whack when he had anything else going on that interrupted that schedule. But, that's what you were there for, so you only hummed in acknowledgment.

"That's okay. I just want you to feel better." You said softly, rubbing his back softly with the hand that wasn't wrapped around his head. "Do you want to shower? Or just lay down?"

"We can shower." He caved, not moving from where he was quite yet and hugging you a bit tighter to tell you that he didn't want you to, either. "In a minute."

You then slowly moved to slide into his lap, drawing his legs closed just enough to sit on top of them as you wrapped your arms completely around him in a tight hug. He let out a soft sigh at that, his head resting heavily on your shoulder as you combed his hair back behind his ear with the hand that wasn't still rubbing his back.

"I love you." He muttered, burying his face completely in your neck and then exhaling enough to warm your skin. "I don't understand how you do this fucking bullshit for a job."

"I said I'd take over. I'm used to it. You're not." You reminded him, trying not to make it sound like you were boasting. In reality, your whole job revolved around odd hours, begging for money to allow projects, and planning out each and every minute detail of everything you did, so you weren't exactly new to the workings. Being a set producer was how you had met the man in your arms in the first place. Ville just huffed.

"But you always do it. I don't like leaving you with all of the work." He said frustratedly, his lips brushing against your neck with each word he spoke. "All I'm doing right now is probably making this harder for you."

"Baby, you're allowed to be stressed. I'm fucking stressed too. You just...handle it differently than I do." You reassured him, holding his head against your shoulder while you rubbed his back with your other hand. "Although, it helps when you don't say the word 'no' over and over again for half an hour straight."

He didn't respond to that, but after a second he finally broke away, leaning back enough to touch his forehead to yours before he was pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. He kissed you a second time before he spoke again.

"I feel like I should be doing something for you." He sighed, his lips moving to kiss gently at your cheek as he hugged you a little tighter against him. You smiled, leaning back in his arms far enough to where he was forced to hold you in order to keep you from falling backwards. You then cupped his face in both hands.

"Snuggle with me and all is forgiven." You requested, hooking your legs tightly around his waist and then pulling out of his arms so that you could lie back against his legs. He sighed again at your antics, hands resting loosely on your hips. "C'mon. Laugh a little bit. I can flash you, if you want."

"Just attempt to fucking behave yourself." He pulled you back up to sit, rolling his eyes as you danced off of him and then up onto your feet. "I can only let you baby me for so long before I feel nauseous."

"But you're my baby. Shut up and let me love you." As soon as he stood up, you were throwing your arms around him and pulling him down enough to pepper kisses all over the side of his face, avoiding his attempts to push you away while he started to laugh despite his clear intentions not to.

"Alright! Enough with the fucking kissing! You're spitting all over me." Ville groaned, finally getting you away from him by getting a grip on the back of your shirt and forcibly pulling you. You just snickered, managing to reach out far enough despite his hold on you to wrap your arms half-around him.

"You laughed. I win." You teased, slipping your fingers under the hem of his shirt so that both of your hands were holding his side against his warm bare skin. "Give me a kiss."

"No." The hint of a smirk just barely pulling at his features told you that he was just playing games, and the second he let your shirt go, you were right back in his personal space. You tucked your head under his arm so that he was forced to accept your embrace.

"Please? I love you." Your chin fell against his shoulder, and you gave him the most convincing, pleading look you could muster as your fingers danced on his skin under his shirt. He scoffed to cover his laugh as he dipped down, but you were already meeting him there as you stretched up and caught him in a kiss with one hand moving to cup the back of his head.

You knew he had been going in for a quick kiss, but you slowed it down and dragged it out, licking into his mouth just slightly as his arm stayed wrapped around you. He sighed softly against your lips when your hand moved further under his shirt and up his chest, but just as he was really starting to lean into your touch, you pulled away before holding his face in both hands.

"I love you. You're smart, handsome, funny, and the best work partner I could ever ask for." You said seriously, breaking your joking mood because you knew that even though he was playing around with you, he was still feeling the stress of an overbearing workload. "So don't be grumpy."

"Yes. I love you too. Whatever." He grumbled, pouting in your touch before you gave him another kiss and let him go. He was ignoring the 'don't be grumpy' part of your words with confidence, but he pressed his lips to your forehead momentarily to show you that he was in fact acknowledging what you'd just said before he turned away to go for his dresser. "Well, if you insist on taking over, I will suggest you take Mige’s call in a few minutes, because if I have to listen to his bullshit ideas for another half hour, I'm going to blow a fucking nerve."

Ugh. you were willing to take over some of the work, but not that portion. As much as you loved him, you hated listening to Mige even more than Ville did, because he'd offer ideas to Ville, but he'd demand them to you. But, you were trying to help, so you sighed and nodded.

"Fine. But I get to be little spoon, deal?" You held out your hand for him to shake just as he turned back with a fresh pair of underwear (score!), raising your eyebrows in anticipation because you knew he wasn't going to like that idea. He let out a heavy breath, staring at you for a long second before he caved and accepted your handshake. You beamed at him. "Thank you, honey."

"Don't thank me yet." He then fished his phone out of his back pocket before handing it over, leaning in and kissing the top of your head. "I'm going to start the shower. Call him back."

Mige literally picked up on the first ring. Usually it took about three phone calls to get him to answer you. Figures. Before you could even open your mouth to say anything, he was already talking.

"So I called around a little bit, and I know Y/n said that we weren't allowed to shoot in America, but—"

"But what?" You interrupted. Seriously. It was like sometimes they all purposely tried to make your life harder by doing every single thing you asked them not to. There was a pause, because he had obviously just been startled by your voice, before he huffed.

"Give Ville his phone back, asshole. I didn't call you." He said after he got ahold of himself, spitting venom because he'd been caught red handed trying to go behind your back. Which wouldn't have worked anyway, considering Ville would've told you the second he got off the phone. You rolled your eyes as you headed towards the closet to borrow a shirt for yourself and grab a pair of your underwear off the shelf above your head.

"If you book a set in America, I will send Ville to the studio in the most god-awful mood I can manage. I told you it's here or nothing." You threatened lazily as you dug through Ville's clothes, coming up victorious with his Turbojugend t-shirt.

"I don't wanna do it here. It’s so boring here and I want to go to Texas." And there he went whining immediately. This was exactly why Ville had passed the phone call to you. You scoffed.

"I couldn't give less of a shit. You’ve lived here your whole life, so you'll survive." You said uninterestedly, throwing Ville's shirt over your shoulder and then heading out of the room where you could hear the shower running. "Can you guys all chill? Why does everything have to be done today?"

"Because he wanted it all done today. I don’t want to phone call either." Mige revealed irritatedly, and in that moment you suddenly lost a lot of the animosity you had originally held in his direction. You let out a slight groan, running your hand over your face as you purposely leaned far away from the bathroom door so that your boyfriend couldn't hear you.

"I’ll convince Ville that Texas would be a fun end-of-tour trip if you promise to ignore all phone calls and emails from him for the next two days." You said lowly, offering a compromise that you knew you couldn't lose with considering it didn’t matter to you either way. There was a pause, then a sigh.

"Fucking deal. I don't even want to be apart of this anyway." He agreed easily, and you could've fist-pumped right then and there. Less work for Ville meant less agitated Ville for you. "Did you call instead of him because he's being a bitch? Because he was being a bitch on the phone last time I called."

"Yeah. Like, majorly. Understandable, kind of, but still." You tried to speak inconspicuously as you stepped into the bathroom where Ville was already in the shower, not aiming to trash talk him in the same room as him.

"Not understandable. He told me to 'shut my fucking mouth so that he could actually think thoughts' and then hung up on me like, a minute later." Mige tattled, only making you laugh because you'd actually heard Ville say that when you'd been in the kitchen and he'd been in the living room. Ville stuck his head out of the shower at the sound of your voice, frowning at your laughter. You just waved him off as you sat down on top of the closed toilet lid, drawing your knees up to your chest.

"Well, did you deserve it? Because I can't defend you if you were being annoying." You said honestly, shrugging it off before turning slightly and realizing that Ville still hadn't pulled his head back into the shower. He was just standing there (super creepily) staring at you. When you threw a hand in the air in question, he reached his own out to you. He was totally lying about hating being babied.

"I totally didn't! You need to reign that cunt in." Mige complained in your ear as you reached out and took Ville's wet hand to hold. Reigning the bitch in question in wasn't exactly an easy task, but you had a feeling you were about there. He tucked his head back in then, and you could tell that he had accepted you were going to be busy on the phone, but wanted to be with you regardless. You couldn't help but grin at the fact despite the water droplets running up your forearm.

"He told me to do the same thing to you, so I don't know what to tell you." You teased. At your friend's irritated huff, you laughed again. "It's not my job! You guys are adults, aren't you? Do you not know how to have professional business phone calls?"

"Is this what you call a professional business phone call?" Mige's tone was snarky, and you could practically imagine the sour look on his face as he argued with you over the phone.

"We conducted a form of business. So yes." Technically the only 'business' you'd done was breaking the communication line between Mige and Ville for a few days, but it was business nonetheless. "You know what I do want you to do, though? Come up with some wardrobe ideas for Ville and whoever we decide to play the other part. I've got nothing so far."

"I'm not wearing fishnets or thongs." Ville said from the shower, talking loud enough that Mige definitely heard him on the phone and making you chuckle.

"Fine by me. I’ve seen that enough, anyway." Mige said dismissively, which was pretty hard for you to believe considering some of the things you'd seen those two say and do to each other. You scoffed.

"I would love to see that. Remember who you're talking to." You reminded him, speaking for the pure sake of hearing his snicker, which is exactly what came in response from the other end of the call. You also assumed that Ville had an unimpressed look on his face at your words. "Come on. Get creative and find like, mid-century vampire robes or something."

Mige continued to ‘brainstorm’ and find problems with every idea you had for another fifteen minutes, during which Ville finished his shower before you could even get in. Which was fine, seeing as you'd already showered that morning, but you'd completely missed out on getting to be naked and pressed up against him. All because of his friends, as always.

When you finally hung up the phone, you let out an irritable huff, frowning deeply as you watched where Ville was now wrapping a towel around his hips after he'd stepped out of the shower. He glanced over at you, a hint of a grin on his lips.

"Yeah, see? I told you why I was pissed off." He mused, reaching out to brush his thumb over your cheek before he turned to face the bathroom mirror so that he could get the immense amount of snarls out of his hair. With his fingers. "I do feel a bit better, now."

"I'm glad you do." You muttered, running both hands over your face and thanking the heavens above that you'd suggested a nap. Your patience level had already been wearing thin before taking over Ville's call to Mige, but now it was pretty much nonexistent. "Mige is a fucking piece. He thinks he’s running the shoot or something."

"Intimidating intelligence makes a small man squirm." Ville said, once again sounding like he was reading from some philosophy book. You blinked slowly.

"Say it normally." It was no consolation to you if he was just making up sayings while you'd been literally holding him and rubbing his back when he'd been annoyed. He shot you a quick side-eye before then turning to fully face you.

"He doesn't think it's fair that you're smarter and you're better at it, so he throws a fit instead of being helpful." He rephrased, jabbing a finger at you like he was reminding you of something that you didn't already know. "I do that all the time."

"Yeah, but you just complain. He wants to do all these weird things that we don’t have money for." You groaned, letting your face fall against your knees before you let out a deep sigh. "Can you baby me now? I have a headache."

"I'll consider. After you stop whining and let me put some clothes on." See? About the least comforting a person could get. You let out another huff with your face still in your knees, mostly just because he'd told you not to whine and you hated it when he said that. This was making you more and more glad that you'd made him agree to be the big spoon. He tutted. "Jesus. Is this what I sounded like?"

"You are so mean. I'm nice to you all the time, and this is how you treat me." You pouted, staring at him despite your complaining as he dropped his towel to change into the underwear he'd brought with him. It's not like he was paying attention.

"If you would have some fucking patience, then I'll rock you like the baby that you're being right now in a minute." Ah, tough love. So incredibly helpful and reassuring. You hoped that the smudged eyeliner around your eyes made the death stare you were giving him more intense as you refused to respond to that statement.

He only took another minute or so before he grabbed the clothes that you had set down on the counter and motioned for you to follow him, forcing you to begrudgingly pull yourself back up to stand before you were coming after him and out of the bathroom.

"How long have you had these?" You might've been in a bad mood, but you couldn't help but laugh at how many holes were in the underwear Ville was wearing as you snapped the waistband with your finger. He whipped his head back to shoot you an irritated look, brushing your hand away where your fingers had been pretty close to his ass.

"Long enough for them to be comfortable." He said pointedly. When you tried to snap his waistband once again, he caught ahold of your wrist and forcibly yanked you forward. "Keep your fingers to yourself."

"I love you. You're so funny." You spoke sarcastically, trying and failing to get out of his grip as he pulled you into your room. In reality, his sensitive temper was pretty funny at times, but you wanted him to wrap you in his arms, give you a million kisses, and tell you how much he loved you. Not yank you around like a misbehaving toddler.

"I love you. Lie down." He released your wrist as soon as you were in reach of the bed, and he held up your clothes that were still in his hand as an explanation for why he wasn't joining you quite yet. A satisfied grin fell onto your face then, both because he'd told you he loved you and because he was going to change your clothes for you, before you plopped right down on your back.

"You look so handsome when your hair is wet. You should shower more often." You joked as he leaned down to hook his fingers into the waistband of your sweatpants, lifting one foot up to rub against his bare side. Maybe you would've helped your chances a bit by not making fun of him when he had literally just taken both your pants and underwear off, but you couldn't help yourself. And clearly your words didn't amuse him, because he was already yanking the new pair of underwear up your legs before you could even try to spread them for him.

"You have to pick one. Either I brush my teeth or I shower. Not both." That was clearly a shot back at your teasing, but it was a very real threat, and you wrinkled your nose as you lifted your hips so that he could finish pulling your underwear up.

"Why do you have to make me choose? I would kiss you more if you brushed your teeth." You groaned, sitting up and then pulling your shirt over your head. You then threw it at him. "You could brush your teeth in the shower."

"Do you think I'm fucking schizophrenic?" He muttered, clearly vetoing that idea as he helped you into the shirt you'd borrowed from him. He motioned to the design on the black t-shirt, giving you an unimpressed look. "You know, you have your own clothes."

"But I like yours. They smell like you." As you spoke, you shifted back so that you were fully in bed, throwing your notebooks on the floor and then splaying out as Ville came around the side to get in next to you.

"So what." This, coming from the man who sometimes smoked your cigarettes (his least favorite brand), just because the smell reminded him of you. You grinned as he slid under the covers and then drew them over you, turning in his direction and moving a hand to cup his cheek.

"I love your smell. I could sniff you all day." You crooned, your arm wrapping around his neck just as both of his wrapped around your waist and dragged you into him. "Mm. Especially after you shower."

"I thought you were in a bad mood." He sighed, barely finishing his sentence before you kissed him with one hand at the back of his head and your fingers just pushing into the damp strands of his hair.

"I can't be in a bad mood, because yours is always worse, so I'm giving up." You mumbled as you nuzzled your face into his neck, pointing out his lack of sympathy in general. He shushed you then, wrapping his arms tighter around you and then running a hand over your hair.

"My poor love. I don't know how you're still managing to hold it together." He hummed, his voice holding a bit of a teasing tone as he set his chin on top of your head. You slid a leg over his hip, letting out a deep sigh.

"I'm not." You whispered, relishing in the smell of your joint body wash on his skin as you pressed a soft kiss to his neck. One of his hands moved to rub up the leg over his hip while the other arm stayed wrapped tightly around your waist.

"Well, then let's fuck when we get up." He may have not really known how to properly console anyone, but he sure as hell knew the direct path to your heart. You couldn't help but grin at that, because that was your version of Ville's shower and nap.

"Okay." You fell asleep pretty easily after that, the only sound in the room being Ville's deep, slightly congested breathing. Consider the bitch tamed.

[latenightsleeper]

Random fact about Tank of the day!!

Tank has a flip phone, it’s the only think he uses. iPhone, Samsung, google pixel—they do not know what you are saying to him, they just have a flip phone and or flip phone adjacent device. By virtue Tank also doesn’t have a social media presence, growing up he normally just want to Christian’s house and played on his family computer or uses the library one for work and stuff.

The amount of times Chrissy has begged Tank to get a new phone is many, he’s tired of them using his phone to look up recipes when they’re both together

[missdrummond]

Album 78 reaction part 2

So last week the episode made me feel disappointed and I couldn't pin point precisely why.

So I'm like let's look at what has happened before. Episode 100 for example, I've listened to it recently. There is a really good core to it, with a sweet lesson. However, there's also some corny bits and parts I don't like, but ultimately I wouldn't have been disappointed with an episode like ice fishing.

So then I asked why that is, if Ice Fishing isn't a better episode why is it a better milestone episode. My ultimate conclusion was that it had an ending. It built up everything that it had promised then delivered. Kris-Crossed part 1 was mostly just set up for the next episode, leaving the stand alone product only introducing some interesting concepts but not packing a real punch. It felt so lacking with Chris basically only being able to say see you next week and remember lying is bad kids. Which felt unfair to complain about since that's just the nature of how part 1s work, but that fact didn't really make me feel better about it. I wished it'd been a really tight one parter instead preferably with strong theme or a novel concept.

All of that stemed from the idea that that the 1,000th episode should ideally be a marker, a place to stop and breathe, a high five after climbing a mountain, but discussing it with a friend completely flipped the scrip for me. She (not an AIO fan just really good at media literacy) said she liked the idea of it being a two parter because it was like saying this isn’t the end of the journey. By virtue of it being a one of two it represents one of the show's major motifs, "keep listening." Which was just so poetic that suddenly all the set up felt like it said so much.

I wrote all of the directly prior to listening to the episode. Here's the reaction:

I forgot how obnoxious the guy who won the art contest sounds. He sounds like he should be a character in Animaniacs

The Egg has been scrambled

A Ninja! I didn't catch that last time

Wow that apology was quick! And Morrie expressed himself really well. This character growth is really paying off.

Alright but only skilled googling no hacking

Yes. Yes it is. Way to go building am actual friendship

I didn't even think her faking her disability was even an option on the table. I'm glad they didn't go in that direction.

*Gasp* oh no! she's a... theater kid

Is he a photographer or just a guy with a phone?

Are school newspapers really this connected to eachother?

Whit does not pay for Netflix

"You can't be any worst than your brother." Owch

Cooper only gets in one guest at a time on his golf pass

Why would she get the award?

Wasn't the award already given?

Wow the police must have been really hassling her why is she so mad?

Ooh she doesn't like kids

A plot and B plot connection!

So Phil watched a movie and was like "yes. That I want to write that." ... ... mood.

Ok but wouldn't you be able to tell if the egg smasher was a child?

Oh duh Jellyfish, not Jellyfish did it.

Will amateur detectives PLEASE stop confronting your suspects with accusations it makes me so scared. Please tell me there is another adult at this golf course.

Ok but does Jellyfish Anthony really hate Emily?

Ok good it was Judge Jones.

Again how can she get top prize after it's been awarded?

Morrie quoting Mr. Whittaker was sweet

Wow there really isn't a lot of run time left

Burke!!!!

Wow I really thought they were going to let the criminal get away with it. At least for now.

Good for Kris!

Suzu what did you do! Don't "really?" me. What did you do?

This ending is brilliant! This is so messed up! Suzu lying and stealing in order to get her happy ending and it worked!

Morrie's literal come to Jesus moment is working. Jimney Cricket is doing his job

🎵And voice of truth tells me a different story🎵

Aahhhhhh! TBH I still wasn't fully sold on that episode untill the ending. Boy-howdy that ending was good.

[balshumetsbaragouin]

It is finished! I'm so happy to post the last chapter and finish off my first long fic! Thank you to everyone who has joined me along the way and who left comments, kudos, bookmarks and subs! This has been a wild ride, so I hope you all enjoy the ending to the first entry in the Pestilence!AU trilogy. Inside, Danny and Valerie catch up after the harrowing events the day before, and Danny asks an important question...

One last time: Have a sneak peek for the dashboard!:

She landed a few feet from the bushes, not wanting to get twigs and leaves caught in the newly rebuilt engines of her hoverboard. She still missed her wings, flying was much more convenient and exciting with them, but after the curse left, so too did the ability to transform. She discovered her ability to interface and control with other technology diminished as well. It had been nice to control the systems inside Plasmius’ house, but she could at least enjoy the knowledge she’d crippled its defenses. She also missed the ability to create new weapons with a thought.

Still, having her mind be curse free and no longer subject to the whims of homicidal ghost hunting sprees definitely made up for it. She slid the armor back into place, the suit quieting to a hum in the back of her mind. Another change involved the suit being more silent. They could still communicate, she just seemed less opinionated. But, if the opinions she had shared were any indication, she tended towards the primal and vulgar anyway. She did not need dietary guidance or suggestions! Squirrels are filled with protein, so are rabbits. They were adorable woodland creatures and she was not a wild animal. They were not going to eat them. The suit didn’t seem particularly happy about it, but the grumbles settled out into gentle hisses. She didn’t try to take control anymore either, just gave suggestions about her diet and butted in about her social life. It was still weird, all things considered, to share her mind with a piece of tech, but what could she do? 

She walked into the park a few minutes early, preparing to settle in for the long haul. For all of his many virtues, Danny had never met a deadline he couldn’t dodge…except today, apparently. She walked into the park, ready to find a bench to relax on for the next fifteen to twenty, only to find him already inside and standing around looking for her. Ok, that’s a new one, Fenton. Agreeing to talk about his feelings and showing up on time, all without being reminded? He’d just opened a new chapter, or maybe just flipped to a new page. When she walked closer, she could see him shove a breakfast pastry in his mouth with one hand and check his phone with the other. On the bench near him sat a water bottle. He picked it up and started chugging the liquid inside. He’d definitely rushed here. “Hey Danny.” He started choking, and she rolled her eyes. “It’s not like I crept over here.”

“I’m used to sensing... Uh, hi Val.” He set the bottle down and waved. “You’re still feeling better, right?” He walked over to her, hands in his pockets, typical bright smile on his face. Like she hadn’t almost died yesterday, like he wasn’t always half-dead himself. 

[pumpkinhrat]

     It is with no small amount of shame that Jon pulls up the ‘How to Flirt with a Guy over Text’ article by ‘Wikihow’ on his laptop. It’s as his grandmother always said, though: if you’re going to do it, you had better do it right.

     Martin had texted him back yesterday, right in the middle of him taking a statement. Despite how absorbed Jon can get in them, it had been very difficult to finish the statement with the notification flashing in his periphery. He finally opened it and had received a little flip and flutter in his chest for his efforts. Silly. The phrase ‘cat-dad’ had tripped him up a little but after no small amount of googling Jon had come to the conclusion that Martin is most certainly flirting with him. Now for the response.

     Jon isn’t an idiot. He knows he’s not the most personable guy around. Hell, the whole reason Sasha and Tim had cooked up this scheme was because they’d seen him try and fail miserably at social interactions on multiple occasions. He’s always too blunt or dry or just too plain strange to hold any sort of meaningful conversation with new people. He’s half convinced the only reason Sasha, Martin, and Tim are his friends now is because they’d been forced to break down walls by virtue of their job. It’s unsurprising that things are as grim for him romantically as they are platonically.

     So, with that happy thought in mind, Jon clicks open the link. A bright white and green screen stares back at him. The blurb at the top reads “Text messaging is a great way to flirt with your guy. Flirt texting can be done with someone you are just getting to know, a guy you are developing a relationship with, or a long-term partner to add some fun to your relationship. You can also use texting to stay in touch, build interest, and connect with a guy prior to making the next move.” The last bit actually sounds like what Jon’s looking for and the tight feeling in his chest loosens a bit as he begins to scroll. Then he gets to the actual advice section.

     It’s dreadful. The entire article is littered with useless little platitudes and suggestions like “Play Up Your Fun Side!” and “Don’t Be Afraid To Tease”  and, most worryingly, “Maybe Wait To Send That Sexy Pic”. It’s exactly all the sorts of things Jon hates about first meeting someone who’s interested in him; the posturing, the desperation, the clearly produced and polished personality. He doesn’t want to send Martin a “flirty compliment” when he doesn’t even know what the man’s face looks like. And even if he did, Jon’s sure that any compliment he’d try to come up with would sound like a thinly veiled insult.

     It’s hopeless. He knew he shouldn’t trust the internet but what other options does he have? When he’d given up and debased himself to open the wikihow article, all he’d had written in reply to Martin’s text was “Yes, I do like cats.” Which, while true and, in Jon’s opinion, a perfectly serviceable response, he can hear Georgie’s disappointed sigh in his ear now. Jon echoes it as he closes out of the tab and shuts down his computer. He’ll just have to come up with a response himself. Simple.

     Fifteen minutes later, the same five words glow up at Jon from the Tinder chat box. It feels as though they’re mocking him, goading him to send the blasted text already. Everything else he’d come up with was equally if not more dreadful and Georgie wasn’t returning his texts.

     Jon takes off his glasses and rubs at his eyes. He checks the time. 2:13am. Not too terrible, then. If he just sends this now he can finish up his notes on the Kominsky statement and still have a little over three hours of sleep before he has to get up for work. He looks longingly at the file on his coffee table and turns back to his phone. If this Martin is truly going to be interested in Jon as a partner of some sort, he’ll have to be accepting of Jon's way of communicating, he reasons. There’s no point trying to spruce himself up, really.

     Jon sends the text and turns off his phone.

AAAAA Dear Anon, you're back! Thank you so so much for writing more, (and i'm sorry it took me this long to respond, i've been trying to survive uni).

This is 4th part of Anon's Dating App Jmart fic. Check the tag or the pinned post to see the previous parts! This chapter is based on this part of my au.

UPDATE: You can read the whole story by JJanuaryRain on AO3! Go give them lots of love -> "all's fair in love & tinder"

[siremasterlawrence]

29 days to my 37th Bday Series

Birthday Harem Series: Transforming Henry

Commencing A Harem

It’s been a complicating process for me in all of my years finding my place in out of the total craziness spinning in my head.

I cannot believe my illness, bad luck and all of the negative depressive feedback coming in so I felt that I deserve to take what I want.

Instead I get this I laugh a bit letting a gold key slide from my sleeve of my jacket in to my hand.

The light shines on glowing brightly I think to myself flipping in in to the air landing back on my palm.

I see a strange inscription something in real ancient Egyptian a glint goes in to my eyes in fiery passion.

Walking up to the wall I slip the key into a hole appearing magically in the door it slid open.

I push the key in turning the key deep inside of room the light washes over us it shines on to me.

“The one who reads this translation is the one true man if power and virtue to take up the mantle of Pharoh.”

The room vanishes in flash of black covering every crevice of the room I am standing in a state of pitch black.

The light return’s singling on me I can see a second one reigning in no one in particular a very empty space.

My mind felt quite odd like it was something Is about to spark an idea shaking me to the core.

My eyes blow up in an aura of heavy blue with many images of random guys I have met over the years are showcase to me.

There is this one guy so massively built the size of a tank stuck in some tight clothes made to show off.

His cockiness knows no bounds desiring to be what everyone wants to hate, manipulate and use others.

Complete abusive asshole who lives to truly make others suffer mentally, emotionally and physically.

“Stop!”

“Henry! Is that his name? He is so fucking hot.”

“Would you like him?”

“Yes”

“He is mine”

“Take ownership of him”

“Beginning interface “

“Choose the avatar”

“Creative his ideal version “

“Build a man in process”

“100 percent”

“He will be ready in ten minutes “

“Pharoh Lawrence “

“My name is Henry Cavill”

“How may be of service to you ?”

“Kneel and shut up “

“Yes Pharoh”

“I said shut the fuck up “

“Mmmmmm”

“Spread your legs”

“Undo your belt and drop it “

“Hands behind your back “

“Good boi! Don’t move I am copping a feel”

“Good firm property”

“Mmmmmm”

“You love that I can see”

“Yes Pharoh”

“Zip it bitch “

“Yes Pharoh”

It’s about time I think to myself remember all that horrible things people have said and done to me.

I stand behind him smack him hard across the face then grab his chin upward in to the sky.

Pressing it hard on my con I sends his body go limp with great expectations as it grows super thick.

Using my arms I slid down to his hips pulling his shirt over his head I take a whiff of his scent.

It’s so strong permeating my nose it dives super deep regaining control I shove his neck to face my shirt.

Before he can think his nose in drop deep in to my arm pits forcing my scent in to tone nostrils.

“How do you like my scent?”

“Oh Pharoh! You smell so damn wonderful “

“Kiss it, lick it, suck it and taste it”

“Mmmmm….fuck”

“FUCK PHAROH!”

“Taste the rainbow bitch”

The end

Harem Series: Chris Hotel Perchance

nry and I board the elevator of the hotel resort with the most stars and notoriety to boot.

The door swings to the main floor as we exit on to the carpet the door is at the end of the lengthy hall.

Poor Henry putting his body on display full

frontal and backward easily his shirts lifts up under the weight of the bags.

His pants pulls down a bit the crease no longer covering his ass in all its splendorous glory.

We stop at the door my hand reaching to my pocket and swipe the door to allow us in to the room.

I am in amazement at the magnificent man who so currently standing by the window in a rage.

He is a screaming at a whatever poor man, or woman who is in the other end of the cell phone.

His booms loudly ricocheting from one end of the wall to the other hitting me head on as I watch in lust.

He stops hanging up the phone he throws it across the room in fiery passion he turns it face the window.

He can’t believe the reality of it all his hands are bouncing on the glass angrily I could see the pain his eyes,

I want to assume control him it’s sending a chill down spine and pricking my cock up its is so hot.

I am more turned in then ever my loins are being pulled in a thousand different types of directions s

.

“Excuse me! Who are you ?”

“Hello! I am Lawrence”

“This is”

“Henry his slave “

“What the shit”

“Get out of here”

“Sorry can’t do that “

“This is my room”

“Impossible “

“They over booked”

“I am about to call and yell at their asses “

“Or what?”

“Listen you …”

“I suggest you listen to me in fact that is all you can do.”

“Follow my hand…SNAP!”

“Uuugggghhhhhhh”

“Doesn’t that make you much happier”

“Docile and agreeable”

“Oh yes! My Pharoh”

“This is my room now “

“I could not disagree “

“SNAP!”

“I am so sorry for my behavior earlier “

“Are you certain?”

“Naturally”

“My life is in your hand “

“Do as you wish “

“Good boi “

“Sir Pharoh Sir”

“Express your love with me by making love to me.”

“With pleasure”

“Master please don’t “

“Back off Henry boi, Master is taking me for a ride tonight not you.

The end

[bleachbleachbleach]

1/8 - 1/14/2024

Ha! I wrote very little this week. I ended up spending most of my time dealing with airplanes, then got home and dealt with mice (I am at war), so I was like, fuck it, I am tired, I'll focus on reading, then. So I read a few chapters of Bleach, and a few chapters of fanfic. And a lot of nonfiction while standing in lines at customer service desks in the airport. I didn't read any nonfiction I really liked while standing in lines for customer service desks in the airport, BUT I wanted to share some of the spoils of "nonfiction in 2023" at large--in particular, those that make me think about craft (AKA writing fanfic).

1. Succession

While circumnavigating the United States, I ended up watching/sleeping through almost the entire first season of Succession, which I'd never seen. It wasn't interesting to me, but it was very good. It's known for its piercing witticisms, but where I thought it really excelled was in its deeply unpolished, inarticulate dialogue (and the performances to back it up). It takes the in-lived-time, verisimilitude-of-actual-speech to an extreme, even within the genre of TV (and of prestige TV, which I feel like is less pressured to be 'approachable') and I love it. I'd previously read this article about the writing of Succession, which is about the inimitability of the collaborative, creative process vs. AI. While my fanfic technically only has one author, I feel like having ~come of age~ writing for a TV fandom, an addition to having my primary motivation as a writer be "hang out with my blorbos," has influenced my writing process in that I think of it a lot like this--running lines with them, blocking out the scenes in different ways as though in rehearsal, inviting their personalities in as co-writers. So I really enjoyed that article's encapsulation of a particular writing process!

2. Flipping Grief

Like I said, I read a lot of nonfiction--usually longform journalism or essay-style creative nonfiction. And a narrative convention that is VERY popular is to present a niche topic and then cross-pollinate it with a parallel personal narrative. This is as common as, say, coffeeshop AUs in fanfic. And while an understandable impulse, and one I think has a lot of potential, if you read enough of them just doing the thing isn't enough, and it becomes too easy to see the bulging seams where the two narratives don't hold together, or are stitched too obviously.

Flipping Grief, written by James McNaughton and published in Guernica (2023), is the opposite of that. It's an example of a common trope done extremely, extremely well, and it's one of my Top 10 articles I read last year. It's about predatory real estate flipping practices; it's about a brother's death by overdose. The two are connected by a phone call--the author is predated upon while mourning his brother--but the two narratives wend together in so many ways, and in so many ways that do not force the connection or seek easy metonym, clear parallelisms. Just stunning. Where writing is concerned, it's an example of something at the top of its genre, imho, but I think also a reminder that there is room in this world for messiness and elusiveness and the refusal to tie things together by virtue of their Symbolic Relatedness.

3. Against Aboutness

This last piece I think deserves its own post, because I love it to pieces and I draw something new out of it every time I read it. The first time I read it, the note I wrote was, "I feel like this is the kind of article you read and feel viscerally as your brain expands--hard to pin down rationally (first word that came to mind) or practically. But it's also not meant to be read instructively, at least not in that way."

Against Aboutness, written by Yiyun Li and published in Harper's (2023) is technically a BOOK REVIEW, LOL, for Elizabeth McCracken'. It follows the vein of this post--a love song for the inarticulate and refusal of clean parallels--in that Li loves McCracken's work because it resists the impulse to define what something is "really about"--to say this is a story about trauma, or womanhood, or grief. It's the lit crit impulse, to identify themes and bring them out, but perhaps not the frame of mind that either the writer or reader needs to inhabit unilaterally or universally. And of course it's against the vein of this post, because I went ahead and told you what the pieces above were "about" just as naturally as breathing, haha.

I'll stop there for now, because now I really do want to give this one its own post, but here's a line I think about a lot:

If you take your characters’ feet for granted—if you haven’t washed and bandaged your characters’ toes, if you haven’t placed their feet on yours to lift them upstairs—perhaps they have a right to refuse to come alive. You’re stuck with sentient and bodiless beings: egos, ghosts, cyphers, fragments of an insufficient imagination.