#credit where credit is due. I saw that post and was so inspired I learned to edit

[flutteras]

The Dark Urge and "No Longer You" from Epic the Musical fit so well together.

Inspired by @sledgehammer-to-a-discoball's post

[kanmom51]

Like Crazy - new insights

*This is a reposting of my latest reblog due to issues with that specific post.

***This has been sitting in my drafts since April 2023!!!

This is the post I reblogged and the basis to my own post.

Yep. I had some of a post written way back in April 2023, but the pieces just didn't come all together for me.

After Muse's release and specifically after the BTB yesterday where JM discussed Who, Muse and the lyrics, we also saw the change made to Who's lyrics from "you" to "she" things started to clear up for me. But then, a friend also shared a picture of the original lyrics of Like Crazy, which were subsequently altered before recording. We discussed these changes and I now feel that this is it! This is the missing piece to my post.

I mostly left what I wrote over a year ago in tact, adding the missing pieces to this puzzle that makes this post with what I feel is a little more insight into Like crazy.

Needless to say, these are my opinions, how I see the lyrics, the ones that made the cut and the ones that stayed in JM's lyrics journal.

So, let's get started:

Here I was thinking I'm the only one who was seeing this...

I do hope I'm reading this right, before going off motormouth about something that maybe isn't what is being said, but to hell with it, this is something I've been thinking too and I'm just gonna come out and say it.

We're all over 18 here right?

This is a subject we can talk about?

The more I listen to this song, the more I think it to be true too.

First of all, before starting off, I want to link this ask:

**Shock and awe... "she" wasn't part of the original lyrics for Like Crazy . Colour me surprised to learn the same is true with Who (even though JM didn't actually write the song himself). Oh, and if we are on that subject already, how not surprising to see the process of writing the song with John Billion, who happens to be one of the writers of SNTY as well (me sitting here thinking of several words and references that could have been somehow suggested and inserted into the song. No idea who (nah, I'm telling lies, I know exactly who). How shocking (NOT) to see that the artist actually had input with the song lyrics of which he is not credited in writing.

Again, the depth of the song, the layers to the song and the multiple interpretations too.

JM told us this song is about him struggling. He told us he was going through a period where he was drinking too much. He was finding fulfillment in ways other than performing, as performing is part of him, he is a performer, someone who needs the stage to express himself. The stage is where he is at peace, the stage being a piece of him that he was missing.

We saw his outburst of emotions in the first day of MOTS ON:E (that was my first experience of BTS and he literally broke my heart - and later seeing him being mocked for it infuriated me).

This was October 2020, around 6 months into the pandemic. The uncertainty. This is their first online performance and from there until Muster another 9 months go by. We know from Festa 2022 that the pandemic screwed up all of their plans. The uncertainty, working on and releasing BE and then Butter and PTD everything leading up to the PTD online concert, a year after MOTS ON:E. For those that performing is their life, standing in front of an audience and giving it their all, it's a hard pill to swallow. The unknown, if they will ever get back to perform on stage in front of a live audience, when this is who they are, their essence, it can be unbearable. JM wasn't the only performer to go through this. It's just that he shared this with us. He showed us his pain and vulnerability and was mocked for it by many. Shame on them!!!

So, again, JM told us with Like Crazy, that he was filling in that hole. Alcohol was mentioned by him specifically. But listening to the song, I think it's quite clear that sex was a very big part of it as well. Looking for that rush, that high. It's clear as day, for me anyway, in the lyrics.

(I think we could last forever I'm afraid that everything will disappear Just trust me)

[Verse 1] She's saying Baby, don't think about it There's not a bad thing here tonight Baby, you can leave it Stay with me until today

[Verse 2] Watch me go Wet me all night (Away) And morning too Don't come if you're drunk

In this loud music It fades me It's a drama-like story I'm get used to it Have you come far to find me that you used to know? Yeah, I know You know, I know (Ooh)

[Chorus] I'd rather be Lost in the lights Lost in the lights I'm outta my mind It holds to the end of this night Every night You spin me up high The moon that embraces you Let me have a taste

[Post-Chorus] Give me a good ride (Oh, I'm fallin', I'm fallin', I'm fallin') It's gon' be a good night (Oh, I'm fallin') Forever you and I

[Interlude] Mmm-hmm Yeah, hey Mmm-hmm Ooh-woah Mmm-hmm Mmm-hmm (Forever, you and I)

[Verse 3] Me reflects in the mirror I'm going crazy without hesitation I'm feelin' so alive, wasting time

I'd rather be Lost in the lights Lost in the lights I'm outta my mind It holds to the end of this night Every night You spin me up high The moon that embraces you Let me have a taste

[Post-Chorus] Give me a good ride (Oh, I'm fallin', I'm fallin', I'm fallin') It's gon' be a good night (Oh, I'm fallin') Forever you and I

[Outro] This will break me This is gonna break me (Break me) No, don’t you wake me (Wake me) I wanna stay in this dream, don't save me Don't you try to save me (Save me) I need a way we (Way we) I need a way we can dream on (On, on, on)

Those are the lyrics he recorded.

But you see, there were changes made to the lyrics he was working on originally, and we got to see some of them.

This specifically:

Reading this draft and the final ones there are a few things that just fall into place for me (and I'd think for anyone that reads them), loud and clear:

First of all, obviously JM is singing about drinking too much alcohol. If the final lyrics hinted to losing himself in alcohol, the draft lyrics are ever so clear regarding that point.

Second of all, the sex. I think JM was pretty straight forward using the wording he was using. "Give me a good ride" can be other things, if you twist it around to try and explain it away, but bottom line, those lines within the context of the lines in the draft, like "just go turn off the light, you and me..." not to mention the whole chorus, to me the reference is obvious.

Next, I talked about the many references to JK in this song in this post:

This is all also relevant when it comes to my next point being the fact that to me it's clear that JM wrote this song referencing a special someone with whom he shares a high level of intimacy. A special someone that was there by his side when JM was struggling. A special someone that was struggling seeing JM going through everything he was.

To that person JM wrote (in the draft): "oh baby don't you cry, just wanna see your smile..."

These lines, they were too much. Too obvious. Too intimate. And they were left out probably because of just that.

So JM went with other lines. A little less obvious perhaps, and yet still very telling. The finale of the song:

No, don’t you wake me (Wake me) I wanna stay in this dream, don't save me Don't you try to save me (Save me) I need a way we (Way we) I need a way we can dream on (On, on, on)

Now, you could claim that the song is about an inner struggle. JM struggling with himself, talking to himself, and yes, that could very much be part of the message JM, the king of layering, is going for. But see, that's exactly the point. JM is the king of layering, of having several meanings and messages within his lyrics and creations. And this is not different. There is no mistaking the reference to another person, not JM himself, in the lyrics. The way he uses the "you" in the lyrics, at times could pass as you being the alcohol, at times the you being himself in the mirror, but at times it's clearly a third party he is talking to. Especially in that finale to the song, that someone that wants to lift him out of that stupor he is in, to wake him up, to save him, when he is unwilling, not ready to accept that help just yet (same person he asks not to cry, knowing that he is making them sad). There are also the clear JK references in this song. The "you are me I am you" being the loudest of them all.

But JM being JM, he showed us in his own way what this song was about, opening up and allowing us to see his drafts.

And then he gave us Letter. Hidden, and private and intimate. Addressed not to us, but to that person that was always there by his side, that person he addresses in Like Crazy telling him "forever you and I". Now, in Letter, being in a better, healthier place, he can repeat the sentiment of them together forever. A sentiment JK had mentioned in the past (omg, that was so very awkward).

And now using lines like : "I sincerely hope we are forever" and "But don’t forget that we’re always together"...

The lyrics, the sentiments, the drafted lyrics that never made it, like the use of "Dangshin", I have talked about it all. Letter was for JK. Period.

When seeing Like Crazy again, the lyrics, the struggle, the person by his side, the intimacy, and Letter, I'm kind of thinking that not only is Letter a love ode to JK. That is stating the obvious. But it's also JM's acknowledgement and thank you to that person that stood by his side in his most difficult of times.

JK.

Bottom line:

Like crazy is about JM struggling and self medicating with alcohol and sex.

It's personal about himself, his struggles, but also includes a person that is there by his side, one he is highly intimate with, one who is there with him together. That person is there, spending the nights with him, in that escape world JM created for himself. Sad seeing JM struggle, trying to find a way to help JM out of that pit but being unable to do so, staying by JM's side all the same.

We know who that person is.

Same person he addresses Letter to.

[bwabys-scenarios]

Heya! Just thinking about Kurapika cuase he my fav. Since Kurta culture is such a big deal to him, how would he try to teach his significant other about it? Would he try to teach them as they go along or would he try to distance himself from his past culture? Thanks for writing these Headcannons, they get me through my busy work week lollll

Kurapika and his culture, thoughts and HCs

!!REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!

A/N: This is less of an x reader and more of Kurta tradition HCs! Also, these are all made up and not inspired by anything specific, so any likeliness to actual cultural practices is not intended. The only tradition that is inspired by real culture is the last one, which is inspired by Dia De Los Muertos(which is obvious but I wanted to give credit where credit is due!!)

Thoughts

Absolutely! As the only Kurta left alive, he’s the only one that can keep his culture and traditions alive. It’s one of the reasons he wants children so badly, he wants to have his clan again!

I think Kurapika isn’t the type to force you to learn or expect you to participate in his culture, after all it’s not your own, but he���d very much appreciate it if you did. You’re his everything, all he has left in this world and the future mother of his children, and he’d be over the moon if you wore the traditional tabards on special holidays and practiced the traditional dance that the Kurta people would preform on their wedding nights.

He also won’t be overbearing with having his kids participate, but will be filled with joy when the little ones ask why daddy is wearing something different and praying on certain days.

Kurapika will bully his friends into celebrating with him, though. Gon and Killua have their own Kurta tabards that they have to wear when then come over during holidays. And no, Gon’s isn’t green. You’ll see why later on in this post.

HCs

-I think the Kurtas had many different traditions, which I will list here.

-One tradition I already mentioned, which is the bride and groom performing a specific dance on their wedding day. It’s a sign of devotion and love that lasts a lifetime, so it’s one of the only things Kurapika really wants you to do.

-Another is celebrating the coming of fall and harvests, alone with spring, summer, and winter. Each season has a different celebration and traditions, like dancing in the snow and leaving your favorite preserved fruit in the windowsill as an offering.

-You give that fruit during winter, a time where the fields are barren so when the fruit is ripe again, the gods give back tenfold.

-In spring, there are always flowers decorating doorframes, most families represented by a specific flower(marigolds for Kurapika’s family!), which is said to strengthen the spirits of each household.

-During summer, the children all made little dolls out of straw(or clay if their family works with it) and fill them with sweets, then leave them in the forest. This is an offering to the forest spirits so they can continue to coexists among each other. The Kurta people have a lot of respect for nature, always giving back what they take.

-The most important tradition takes place during late fall, right before winter. It’s a day to remember your loved ones who have passed, and obviously this holiday is especially rough for Kurapika. Before the massacre, it was a day that was spent celebrating the lives that once were, but now it is full of grief. He wears all green. Brown and earthy tones are used for grieving too, like for widows that are in states of mourning, but green is reserved for funerals. The earthy times symbolize the deceased giving their bodies back to the earth, and the inevitably of returning to dust.

-Because their scarlet eyes are treasured in the clan and green is opposite to red, green is seen as a color of morning. Fun fact, the first time Kurapika saw Gon, he assumed he was in a deep state of mourning because he was wearing an entirely green outfit. Of course he soon learned that the Kurta way of mourning was different than the rest of the world, but that didn’t stop him from being more gentle with Gon for a while.

-Kurapika prefers to pray alone when he’s in mourning. He gets choked up and cries sometimes, and needs time to collect himself and process the tremendous loss he feels.

[twstedpometea]

1 year later: Ugigiugi review and thoughts

Hello Everyone.

It's finally been a year since the PDF was released. I decided to do a retrospective post on Ugigiugi, the history of her tracing, and share my personal thoughts now that some time has passed.

Feel free to read below!

First off, I wanted to publicly address the fact that I noticed the new "findings" in the tag. I have collected those for annotations.

As I've stated before in one of my older posts, this whole situation was the first time I'd seen or dealt with a serial tracer like Ugigiugi. Counting her last post day, she had been tracing for 5 years. Given all these things, I decided to reflect a bit on the Ugigiugi situation and things are a year later.

At that time it appeared that Ugigiugi was mostly a tracer/self-insert Mary-sue type of artist. Given her lack of crediting and stealing from others, it was pretty apparent that she was a lazy and passionless person masquerading as an artist and had zero shame in taking the efforts from others for herself.

While there is still plenty of art that has yet to be sourced, it can kinda assumed if Ugigiugi saw it, she stole it, regardless of the source. This is pretty evident when you look at the located sources which spanned from small-time fan artists and to published works, including online media or comics she's read in her own time. And let's not forget the audacity of her tracing over other people's original characters, and comics, or stealing from lgbtq+ ships.

Pharaoh’s Concubine by Misha/Youshi

Ennead by Mojito

Now, generally, it's alright to feel "inspired" by other people's fan art/comics/stories/etc. That's normal. And I certainly can't police what people will end up liking in their media.

But blatantly stealing others shows no passion and demonstrates you have very little respect for your fellow art peers. As I've said in my previous post on Tracing/Copying/Referencing while tracing is one way to "learn" how to draw art, it is not something you should heavily rely on as it can quickly become a crutch. If you're not pulling any useful information from it and just trace without a second thought, you will become dependent on it for everything and never truly learn how to draw without that crutch.

Every artist needs to study the fundamentals to learn how to break the rules. Every artist needs to learn how to use resources properly, be transparent if they borrow from others, and give credit where credit is due. Every artist has to gain confidence so they can create and self-motivate to improve.

Ugigiugi had NONE of these qualities because at the end of the day she did not care about being an artist.

She wanted attention and praise and did not care how she got it.

Looking back on the fallout and how Ugigiugi handled it when people tried to correct her or called her out, I can't consider her a creator in any capacity. Given that most of her pieces are in the genre of Mary-sue/self-inserting, this was really just her putting the spotlight on herself and that's the bottom line.

Now I'll be frank: I don't care for self-inserting. But that is a personal preference. However, I understand it is a thing people do within fandom spaces for fun, and if that's what you like? More power to you.

But if you have to steal from other artists to do that? From fellow fans or even from people who probably spent years developing their skills and putting art online to advertise their artwork or comics? You are just a leech, no different from the "AI artists" plugging prompts into generators to spit out terrible soulless art, scrapped from the honest efforts of thousands before them. And how can you call yourself an artist when you take from everyone else but having nothing to show for yourself?

Finally, for my last point, I'll share my thoughts on Ugigiugi's last known post and her "apology" before she deleted her Tumblr since not everyone got to see her response/rant when the callouts first began to circulate. I'm also leaving her DA post here for reference.

Someone had asked me if there was any actual proof Ugigiugi ever apologized anywhere before she nuked her social media. No, she never did apologize. You can even see in her Tumblr "apology" that she doesn't admit to what she did before going off on a rant. As of this year? She still has never apologized for all the tracing or stealing and for not crediting her free resources.

That being said a lot of what Ugi said at the end of her apologies always bugged me. I'll zoom in on these parts of her posts.

Here's the thing. You can have all the dreams in the world you like. Does creating art help you escape from the troubles of the real world? By all means that stuff is normal. To create art and express things is also fine.

But what isn't normal or acceptable Ugigiugi's lack of responsibility.

You can't build things with stuff that isn't yours to begin with. What story or world is there to share if you're just stealing the building blocks from others with no regard for people's works or boundaries? How can you create or inspire anyone when all you have to offer is a poorly reproduced copy. Can you even call it a hobby when you're not even going to put in the minimum effort? I don't think so.

Yes, Ugigiugi's can have issues with the doxing/political hubbub but at the end of it all, she is in a mess entirely of her own making. If she hadn't traced and just sourced things properly, I don't think people would have gone after her for all the stuff she had stolen (problematic media/opinions aside obviously). Taking accountability is always a sign of maturity.

And that is probably the biggest reason I can't give Ugiugigi a pass. She is not some misguided young artist just starting out. She is an adult. And not just any adult but one in the educational field too. It is appalling and little disturbing that an educator is engaging in such selfish behavior. And in her own words she knows these things and people have corrected her. But instead of taking accountability, she chooses to double down even harder and get mad at everyone for "bullying" her. She acts like a victim and makes excuses right up until the bitter end. And even now, despite a year of silence, I suspect her stance hasn't changed.

But this post is already growing quite long and rather then continue to beat this dead horse, I would rather finish this entry to talk about what people should avoid.

Even a year later after the PDF was published there's still stuff being sourced from her traced works and we have no idea if Ugiugigi is continuing to lurk or continuing to steal but keep it offline to avoid another public fallout.

Whatever the case may be I would like to leave a final thought both to encourage people to not do what she did and also address and of her lingering supporters who might stumble across this:

There are some out there who feel that what Ugiugigi did was not that bad since "everyone traces". But these people are wrong.

When you take something that doesn't belong to you, that is stealing. And when people discover you have been stealing they get upset for far more than just the theft. They get angry because that person is a LIAR. That is a betrayal of trust from an artist they believed was acting in good faith. If said artist can just rip off other people's work or resources without even so much as a token acknowledgement of where their inspiration came from, it calls their entire body of work into question.

And when people discover you have lack integrity, they no longer trust you. And once you lose that trust it can be impossible to gain that back. That is why they leave, block that artist, and refuse to engage further because if they can steal from others, what is to stop them from stealing from you?

Ugiugigi's downfall is ultimately from her own egotism, a misguided belief that she deserved praise while giving negative effort. And while there are still many like her out there, there is at least one less parasite to deal with.

[neveragainfools]

Let’s talk about art since apparently I’m a dumbdumb idiot who knows nothing about it or the internet.

Am I salty? Yes. Let’s get into it. So, you might have seen the Keith Haring AI Unfinished Painting going around with my commentary of disdain, and then a bunch of people reblogging it with commentary on how it’s an obvious troll/bait post and how stupid I and those who chimed in in the same fashion are. Apparently the post made it to trending (though I never saw it there, because I mostly just pay attention to my dashboard.)

Of course it doesn’t feel good to get “got.” I think if someone hadn’t sincerely pulled a similar stunt with the Mona Lisa recently, I would’ve seen it as a troll post. I did actually take a moment to consider that it might be a troll before I reblogged with commentary. But that damn expanded Mona Lisa came to mind, and I thought, “no, there are people out there who absolutely think this is okay” and went on my little rant. Jingle my bells for I’m now the court jester. I took the bait.

Do I still stand by it? Yes, for the most part. One could argue that the troll is a form of art, and I played a part in the performance. Much like Fountain by Duchamp (a piece in which he literally signed a urinal and displayed it as fine art and it nearly burned down the art world), this piece inspires rage, and the rage is the most important part of the conversation. I’ll make no bones about my position on AI art. When the “art” is simply an image generated by an AI tool, that is not art to me. It is a commercial image. The use of an AI tool to “complete” or “expand” an image with the intention to create a vast reaction, and post it in such a manor can be argued as performance art, the same way Fountain is. Machine learning can also be used as a tool in the process to create a piece of art, but a generated image alone is not art.

So then why do I stand by it? A big problem with art types like this is that it’s callous, cold and doesn’t respect the work that it’s “building on” or “elevates.” Whether it’s Warhol’s Campbell’s soup cans, Lichtenstein’s rehashing of comic panels, Duchamp’s Fountain or this AI piece, in all cases, it uses the originator without concern for the content of the art itself. Someone at the toilet company had to design that urinal. Someone at Campbell’s had to design the soup can label. Lichtenstein took panels from real living comic artists and re-rendered them with less skill and care. Those works are never co-credited with the people who did the initial designs. The twitter person who made this mess used a heartbreaking piece about a man’s grief and frustration about his own untimely death due to AIDs, and a lot of people weren’t familiar with it before this viral moment. Sure, it starts a conversation into the nature of art, as do all of these “subversive” pieces. But especially with Haring, who was concerned about computers and their eventual intelligence and would likely hate it, especially because we DO know the original artist, and those who are meant to be angered are familiar with the original piece (mainly lgbtq people), it feels especially rude and poor taste.

Other works wouldn’t cause such a visceral reaction. The personal nature of Unfinished Painting why “finishing it” is so controversial. No one says art has to be respectful. No one says art can’t steal, remix or transform works that came before it to create a new meaning. I’m still allowed to hate it. I’m still allowed to think it spits on Keith’s grave. The choice to do something so disrespectful is integral to the point of the piece, all in the name of showing how reactionary people are to AI generated images. It’s still a shitty thing to do. Perhaps something so visceral that causes such bad reaction is necessary for us to find the boundaries of where AI is or isn’t okay to be used in art. I hope for this twitter person’s sake it is.

There are so many things we could take from this debacle: reactionary nature of the internet, the question of consent and collaboration vs. remix in art, whether artists and their art should always be questioned, the list goes on. I’m happy to continue that conversation.

tldr: Sure, I got "got" by the Keith Haring Unfinished Painting AI "finishing". You could classify the act as art. It stimulated conversation into the relationship between AI images and art. But I think it's still a shitty thing to do.

[margaret-the-sylvia]

I've had this project on the backburner for a while and well, I decided to post it now.

If you want to learn how to draw Asian characters, check out these links out, they were really helpful!

Link

Link

WARNING: Mentions of attempted suicide, suicidal tendencies.

Canon Design by Missd76 (Formerly KD476)

Indiana started out as a original character for a series of TTTE fanfictions known as "On Beyond Sodor" back in 2009. He was going to be the main protagonist (other than Thomas) of a story known as "Wounded Heart". He had a bio, but it is unfortunately lost to time. We don't have much on him, the only information we know is from art drawn by the artist. Indiana comes off as a sad character who has been possibly a victim of severe bullying, causing him to be distrustful of anyone and a little suicidal at some points. He also half blind, due to an accident with a saw blade striking him in the eye. He became more humanoid due to the artist losing interest in TTTE as a whole to the point where he became separate from the TTTE franchise. He has had multiple designs throughout the years.

For this first one, I decided to draw the version of Indi that appears in this art. (I cannot draw engines, I can barely draw humans as it is!) Indiana appears to be very simple in design, with few colours and a white complexion.

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Fanon Design by TTTEFan1

Moving on to the next box, we have another HC design of Indiana made by TTTEFan1. This version of Indiana is possibly more similar to the original personality of Indiana. This version of Indi was made by them for KD476's request but then was placed into their fan story "The Princess of Voice". This version I do really like. It's quite a step up from the original design, and I took some elements from her design into my design for him, like the red eyes and the hairstyle.

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My (Headcanon) Design

And now finally, my design for him. This is the humanoid design I'm sticking with in my little series. I was really inspired by TTTEFan1's design and the design of WBC U-1146 from the anime, "Cells at Work". U-1146's hairstyle really inspired me to give Indi the same hairstyle. I fleshed him out quite a bit with his story. His story is still quite sad, but I turned up the angst notch to 11 for him. Another thing you may notice about my design is he's Asian. I kinda liked the idea of him be Asian (Japanese to be specific), so I decided, why not? I kept some things from the original bits the character owner gave him like his personality, the accident that left him half blind, and his saw staff (from a crossover with Shugo Chara and TTTE).

Took some inspiration from U-1146's outfit and Indi's original jacket and created this. (He has a knife and cargo pants underneath his jacket and stuck with the red and white theme he's known for.) Humans don't exist in my universe, so instead we have robotic humanoids (inspired by D:BH a lot) and felines. I have posted a tiger version of him, but not an updated humanoid version.

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Credits:

Indiana is owned by Missd76

The "Fanon" design of Indiana by: TTTEFan1 on Deviantart

"Canon, Fanon, and Your Design" meme is by SunnyDionysus on twitter

Template

Background from The Lion Guard by Disney, posted by lionguardkujenga on Deviantart

[brainmaniaman]

tutor me! - bertholdt/bimbo!reader headcannons

MINORS DNI

tags: bimbo reader, afab reader, size kink, nsfw, minior degradation?

inspiration: bertholdt hoover/bimbo reader. i got inspiration from seraphdream's post, so i feel i added the link because i want to give credit where credit is due. i really, really, enjoyed their post so you should check it out, too.

link

notes: i saw these pictures of berhtoldt from this small reibert anthology douijinshi called delivereiner and i haven't been the same ever since. here is the link to some of the scans. i apologize, i don't know the translation. all my dumb little pea brain knows is wow that man is so hot i'm going to cry. i have not known a day of peace since i've seen these fucking panels.

hi god it's me again. i just really want a college AU where y/n comes from like, a shitload of money. their dad owns a bunch of hotels and resorts nationwide and worldwide. they could live comfortably and never have to work a day in their life but they really want to prove that they're capable of being taken seriously and worth taking over the family business. y/n's dad tells them that if they graduate college, he'll start taking them seriously. so y/n is trying desperately to get a degree in business management.

and by hot i mean y/n is stupidly hot. like, tiny miniskirts, low-cut shirts that just let the titties you know, titty. loves bright colors like pinks, yellows, blues. loves flower-printed shirts, high heels, tiny purses, the whole nine yards.

and like, y/n is kind of spoiled and doesn't understand money all that well. they're used to getting what they want, when they want - but that doesn't mean they're spoiled. in fact, they're really, really, sweet and kind. they're just unfortunately stupid.

by devastatingly stupid i mean devastatingly stupid. like miserably failing math, cannot figure out how the fuck to isolate x, but tries so hard. like no matter how hard y/n studies and how late they stay up, they just can't seem to get it.

you spend forever trying to find someone who will genuinely tutor you. you tried with a few people in your class, but it was instantly trying to get up your skirt. it would have been flattering if you didn't have a class to pass. in the end, your professor suggests that you visit the math's department math center and request a tutor. so you do and they set a time and date for you to come meet one of their tutors to work on your review for your upcoming test.

when you first meet bertholdt, he's behind a table in the library looking down at his textbook, readjusting his oversized sweater. when you approach the table, you ask in a very friendly manner. "are you my math tutor? i'm y/n"

he doesn't even look up when he gives his own friendly response. "yeah! i'm supposed to be your tutor. i'm -" and when he looks up to give you his name, lil homie gets an eye full of the tops of your breasts. his immediate reaction is to turn incredibly red and look away, sputtering his name. "- bertholdt. hoover! bertholdt hoover! that's my name!"

you notice his anxiety and how red his face is but you don't think anything of it. the majority of the time you spend is him trying to explain simple concepts you should already have grasped by the middle of the semester but just haven't. despite absolutely refusing to look below your neckline, bertholdt exercises infinite patience with you - which you really appreciate because nobody seems to exercise any patience with you at all.

over the course of your next several sessions, you develop somewhat of a friendship. you and berthodlt exchange numbers and text regularly, though you've never seen him outside of where he tutors you. but even so, over text and your small talks after your tutoring sessions you get to know each other. you learn that he's paying his way through school and supporting his sick dad and he almost has a heart attack when he learns that your dad owns the biggest chain of resorts and hotels across the world. it's probably the first time you feel respected and valued? love it. brb gonna pass out.

the middle of the semester comes and you actually pass your midterm. you're so elated that you text bertholdt, asking him if he'd let you take him out for drinks/dinner as a thank you. at first he expresses discomfort in the idea of someone else spending money on him, but you insist and express that the cost really is nothing. bertholdt reluctantly agrees because free food is free food, the two of you get along really well, and he'd be lying if he said he hadn't imagined himself bending you over the table and burying himself in your cunt every time your nose screwed up in confusion or thought about pressing his face between your thighs every time you rubbed them together while thinking. he probably wouldn't say the last two things, though, just keep it to himself.

it isn't until he's standing in front of the restaurant that you realize you've never actually seen him standing. only sitting down. and boy is he tall. he's kind of lanky, but still broad. and there's something about the way he shoves his hands in his pockets and shrugs his shoulders downwards that makes you raise an eyebrow.

trust me, bertholdt has definitely seen you walking away - and he's embarrassed to admit he's noticed the curve of your hips and ass as you've left each tutoring session - but he's only imagined how much he actually dwarfs you. but with his shoulders hunched over, almost hanging over you, bertholdt becomes increasingly more aware of how much he actually dwarfs you. despite his shy demeanor, bert still has to suppress the images of bending you into 500 different positions.

dinner goes really well! since you happen to live nearby, he has no problem walking you home. bertholdt takes the time to walk you to your door and drop you off. for a second, he contemplates leaning over and kissing you. but you ask him if he can tutor you again and decides that he doesn't want to take advantage of you or your friendship?

but even bertholdt, the most respectful and patient people in his friend group, has his breaking point. and his breaking point is when you invite him over to your small apartment to study because you don't want to come on campus and trust him enough in your home.

it starts out normal enough. but normal enough turns into accidentally bumping knees, brushing hands, hovering over you when he's pointing shit out and explaining it. but you just can't get this one concept. and when you crinkle your nose again, looking up at bert as he lingers over your shoulder, you interrupt him with one of the stupidest fucking questions he's ever heard in his life. and it's so cute?

what has even come over him? next thing bert knows, he has his long fingers wrapped gently around your throat from behind as he tilts your heads up and plants a kiss to your lips. it's a surprise, and your neck is strained a little bit as he pulls it back. for a second, he's hesitant but when you return the kiss it's over. he's pressing his tongue into your mouth, tangling your tongues together, using his free hand to pull your hair so he can yank your head back even further.

would use his longer fingers to unbutton your shirt from behind and palm your breasts through your bra while he kissed and sucked at your neck?

definitely would strip you down to nothing while he's still fully dressed and bend you over the desk. bert's fingers are long and slender, just the right length to reach that sweet spot inside of you - and he knows it. would press kisses to your shoulders as he teases you with his fingers, toying w/ your clit slowly, getting you to whimper and beg before he slips his fingers into you? he doesn't have a lot of experience, so his movements are sloppy and kind of awkward, but the way his fingers curl and hit that spot over and over again just feels so good? and you're shaking, trembling, and tearing up?

bertholdt imo is not about edging but is about overstimulation and multiple orgasms. i think he'd like to make you cum over and over again with his fingers and mouth before getting to the actual act of penetrative sex.

but by this point, he is incredibly hard - you can feet it against your bare ass - and so only seconds after you reach your second orgasm, dirtying his fingers with your orgasm, you don't get a chance to rest before he's pushing his pants down and pressing his tip into you.

he's very slow about pushing it in, because he knows how big he is and can see how you squirm and whine as he pushes himself in. so he's slow and careful as he watches himself bottom out in you. i think he starts out slow, but the more you whine and tear up the more he loses control.

"oh, god - so big - you're so big - too big -" is what you'd be whimpering out as he kissed and licked at your shoulder blades, petting your hair.

did i mention he's big on praise? he'd probably respond with something like "i know - but you're taking me so well. you should see how well your tight cunt is taking me. it's like you're made for me." as he's guiding your hips against him, letting his cock slide in and out of you. i 100% believe that bert likes taking you from behind because he can watch his big cock, slick with your wetness, slide in and out? he loves to watch your cunt struggle to take him. and the entire time he's petting your back and your hair, pinching at your nipples.

probably gets ahead of himself and pulls you up by the neck so your mouth is closer to his ear so he can hear your whines and pants and moans better.

asks shit like "how good does it feel? so good, right? really good? has anyone else fucked you this good?" and pushes his fingers into your mouth, which are still slick with your wetness, and asks you how it tastes. idk bro i just think the silent ones are the freakiest. toys with your clit as he rams into you, guiding you to your orgasm before filling you with his cum.

afterwards, is super apologetic and asks if you enjoyed yourself, and apologizes if he was too rough. you were more than elated with it, though, and this probably becomes normal.

definitely wants to, and does, stuff your mouth with his cock every time you ask a silly question. though he prefers giving oral.

he's not a lazy lover. he's all about your pleasure, but does like it when you thank him by riding him. something about laying on his back in bed, his head resting lazily in the pillow while you struggle to bounce on his cock whilst he plays with your bouncing breasts is enticing. maybe it's because the entire time you're babbling about how good he feels, how thankful you are for him, and how smart he is. he's not a very confident person, so it boosts his ego, and sometimes it's nice to not have to put in any of the work. he especially likes it when you ride him in short, tight, skirts and white button ups because he likes to unbutton your shirt while you're riding him and cover your breasts with his hands.

and you ended up passing your math class, btw.

guys this was emotionally exhausting to write im going to go take a nap to recuperate godspeed.

[interact-if]

Day 2 of Pride Month interviews! You know them, you love them…. give it up for Ames!

Ames, author of Attollo and Metamorphosis

Pride Month Featured Authors

“…and it was a singular, terrible thought, which burrowed itself into your mind like an engorged maggot. This was not a man nor a monster. This was a concept, an ideology, a terrible myth, which had personified itself to stand before you now.You were, to put it simply, screwed.”

After several years of radio silence, you receive a message from your younger sibling that carries a strange sense of urgency to it. Either out of familial concern or boredom, you embark on a journey from your residence to your sibling’s apartment in New Hampshire to see what’s going on and, hopefully, be home before the weekend.

Too bad it’s never so simple.

Demo: Attollo, Metamorphosis (TBA)

Tags: cybernoir, thriller

(INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT UNDER THE CUT!)

Q1: Tell us a little bit about your project(s)!

Attollo is a cyber-noir horror set in a walled city off the coast of the Atlantic that’s been a victim of a nuclear disaster. After several years of radio silence, you receive a message from your younger sibling that carries a strange sense of urgency to it. Either out of familial concern or boredom, you embark on a journey from your residence to your sibling’s apartment in New Hampshire to see what’s going on and, hopefully, be home before the weekend. Too bad it’s never so simple. Attollo is a 17+ game that deals with heavy topics and a lot of moral questioning; from cults to corrupt government, it has no shortage of monsters in the dark—both metaphorical and literal.

Metamorphosis is a crime/horror story based in the world of crime scene cleanup, where there are three simple steps: Get the call, clean the scene, and don’t ask too many questions. These are the rules that you live by under the employment of Noctua’s Crime Scene Services, and you credit them for keeping you alive.

However, after a routine house call brings forth nightmares of memories that are not your own, you find yourself pulled deeper into Noctua—a city of both monster and man—in a bid to find out the truth behind the murder of Deirdre Callow, and better yet, how her memories came to be yours. Your job mandates that you don’t dig too deep—but could this finally be the exception?

Metamorphosis is 18+ and will have explicit content; follow the last moments of a stranger to find out not only who took her life, but how this connects to the underbelly that Noctua works so hard to hide.

Q2: Why interactive fiction? What drew you to the medium?

Lmaoo, oh man. I think it really all began last summer when I first found examples of interactive fiction. I don’t even remember how I came across it, it might’ve been that I saw it mentioned in a post or I saw it as a tag on Itch.io, but at some point, last summer I began to investigate it more. I think what really drew me in was the ability for the player to control the narrative; it was like playing an old RPG, but modernized, and the fact that I could see a story unfold that was influenced by my decisions was so fascinating to me. Not to mention that IF allows so much more character depth than regular novels, in my opinion.

I’m 99% sure my first exposure to interactive fiction was through the game Crème de la Crème (a fantastic game, by the way) and I just enjoyed it so much that I went haywire for the genre. Then Temple of the Endless Night came out (another fantastic game that I’m looking forward to!), and that was really the turning point for inspiring me to give it a go. Now, almost a year later, here I am working on my own two games!

Q3: Are your characters influenced by your identity? How?

My bisexuality doesn’t have much of a major influence on the game, but I do think it contributed to the way that I view and write relationships. I figured out my sexuality around high school (I kissed a girl in high school and found out I liked it just as much as when I kissed a boy) and since then I’ve been very involved in the LGBTQ+ community of both my hometown and uni town.

I think this involvement, like being able to hear about other people’s experiences and share my own, has made me feel a lot more comfortable writing some of the characters in the game. Although Attollo and Metamorphosis both don’t focus heavily on relationships (both have murder in them, which I feel is a bit more pressing), I do keep the option for any RO’s to be romanced by anyone, regardless of gender or preference, because that’s simply what I’ve become so attuned to. In terms of side characters relationships as well, I think my involvement and my own experiences have allowed me to write far more diverse relationships than I might have, and I think that this has also allowed a more fulfilling experience for players when reading through.

I also have incorporated some struggles that I’ve faced before because of my identity into the games. For example, I and a few others have faced issues with religion due to who we are, and I incorporate this into both games. Dreamwalker, Pariah, and Sysba from Attollo all have shadows of this experience in their character origins, and Ilali and Ariston from Metamorphosis has a major point involving identity and beliefs. Both games also have undertows of ostracization and division between groups, which is also something I’ve experienced in the past. Being able to grapple these moments and control them via a narrative has been eye opening for both myself and others involved, and I’m hoping it can be a learning experience for the readers as well.

Q4: What would you like to see more of in LGBT+ fiction?

I think, now, the amount of progress in LGBTQ+ fiction is expanding at a wonderful rate. There are so many interactive fictions with options to select sexuality, select gender, select beliefs, etc. However, despite this expansion, there’s still a good deal of backlash against some aspects of LGBTQ+ fiction.

For example, as a bisexual woman who has dated men, I know there are some individuals who may not consider me a part of the LGBTQ+ because of this aspect. Not only is this incredibly disheartening, but it’s a viewpoint that I think should be educated against, and fiction is a fantastic pathway to do this. Another example I can think of is a friend of mine who identifies as asexual but is sex-neutral rather than sex-repulsed. Most people can’t believe her when she says this, and she often faces backlash for this declaration as well. This is another thing that I think that, with exposure through a medium such as fiction, can be worked on.

What I’m trying to say here is that I think LGBTQ+ fiction can be a brilliantly educational platform—if used right. Although it already teaches so much with what it has, I think having that representation of different subgroups of sexuality, of their experiences and beliefs, so people can become aware and knowledgeable of these options, is something I’d like to see more of.

Q5: What or who are some of your biggest inspirations?

Oh man, I struggled to list off inspirations because I know I have some, but as soon as someone asks me who they are my brain just goes ‘brrrrrr’ LMAO.

In terms of the games that I write and the worlds that I build, I think David Lynch and Robert Chambers are probably the two that I somehow incorporate. Attollo and Metamorphosis both have a lot of surrealist horror, which are what these two really specialized in. Shirley Jackson is also another person who inspired me a lot when it came to the writing and creation of Attollo, especially the intrapersonal relationships between the characters.

In terms of life, this is something else I really struggle to answer. I don’t really have celebrity inspirations or anything like that, but I do get inspired by my close friends and sister a lot. Seeing them go through the struggles that they face and absolutely thrive really drives me to push through my own struggles. They’re the strongest, most brilliant group of people that I know, and I consider myself incredibly fortunate that I can be a part of their lives. Not only that, but we also all collectively encourage each other to push further and to chase our dreams (as cheesy as that is LMAO) and that’s something that I think is another stroke of good fortune. I struck gold when I met them, and they’re some of the biggest inspirations in my life.

Q6: What’s a super vague spoiler for your current project?

For Attollo, I’d say ‘Home is where the heart is.’ For Metamorphosis, to quote John Berendt, ‘Always stick around for one more drink.’

Q7: Lastly, what advice would you give to your readers?

What advice would I give to you all? Oh my, I’m not exactly a wise woman here, but I’ll do my best to give you something lmaooo. I think what I really want you to walk away with, from both my stories and this interview, is that if you’re passionate about something, then share it with the world. Don’t let anyone deter your passion.

I remember listening to this painter once who commented to his friend how he ‘really liked painting’, and his friend’s first response was ‘but are you good at it?’. He then compared this to the scenario of walking; would you say, ‘but are you good at it?’ to someone who said, ‘I really like walking’? No, because it simply wouldn’t make sense, and it doesn’t make sense to say that to anyone who’s doing something out of passion.

To put it simply—if you love something, then don’t let anyone take that passion from you. I began writing these stories because I’m passionate about Attollo and Metamorphosis; I love each character, each bit of lore, and I share it with you because I want you all to enjoy it as well. Am I the best writer? God, no. Does everyone like what I write? Definitely not. But will I let this stop me from writing, from enjoying what I’m doing? Never, and I want you to do the same.

Explore your passions, embrace your passions, and let what makes you happy continue to do so

[littlemisspascal]

Ezra’s Journal Entries #1-3

Fandom: Prospect / Pedro Pascal

Pairing: Ezra x Female!Reader

Word Count: 1,269

Summary: You and I were made from the same star, you said with such conviction it stole the breath from my lungs, bound to each other for eternity by the Currents of the universe. 

Warnings: angsty fluff, Ezra’s dealing with the aftermath of the Green, language, 1st person POV (Ezra), dialogue in italics because that’s just how I chose to do it, no beta so all mistakes are mine

Author Note: I know I said Death and Angel would come out next, but I got such a inspiration high and the words came out so quickly I just told myself screw it and decided to share what I have. If anyone thinks this is a series worth pursuing, let me know. If you don’t, well, just be gentle please 💖

Cross-posted on AO3

Entries #4-6

Look for additional notes at the bottom.

My name is Ezra. 

I have my mama to thank for that. Time has erased her face from my memory, but her voice is ingrained into the tissue of my brain the same way these words are inked on this parchment. She was a bonafide believer that the meaning of a child’s name influenced the course of their destiny. When I was no taller than the height of her waist I learned my own name’s denotation: help.

It’s just a tick too ironic, isn’t it? To be destined to help others when I can’t help my own self. I gave the Green far too little credit. It didn’t just pilfer my arm to satisfy its ravenousness, it greedily stole my sense of purpose too. 

Every night I thank the deities you didn’t accompany me there. If the Green had taken you...

I know how worried you are about me, little love of mine. When I look at you, I find you already looking back, a sweet smile gracing your lips even as concern burns in your eyes as an eternal flame. From day one you’ve always been looking at me, seeing every disgraced flaw and scar—even the invisible ones carved into the darkest edges of my soul. Kevva knows I’ve never been capable of concealing anything from you, but fuck if I don’t wish I could sometimes.

You’re asleep now as I write this, tucked against my side in the vacant space my arm once occupied, drooling on my shirt. I love you so much it hurts. A black hole in my chest perpetually aching to be filled by your presence. And as we venture once more into the starry sea, our ship gliding past the imaginary wings of Noctua, I find myself recalling a theory you once told me many cycles ago about humans being made in the womb with stardust infused in their bones, linking them to the universe. You and I were made from the same star, you said with such conviction it stole the breath from my lungs, bound to each other for eternity by the Currents of the universe. 

And it’s undoubtedly selfish, but all I could think of in that tender moment beyond kissing you was how I didn’t want an eternity spent together with our cosmic bodies intertwined. 

I want longer.

Soon after we awoke and each consumed a slice of bush bread bought during our recent docking at Kamrea, you fiddled with the channels on the ship’s radio, hoping to hear news from your homeworld but cursing when you only heard static. Then, without an ounce of forewarning, music burst out with an almighty scream through the speakers at full volume, flooding the whole compartment with a woman’s warbling. It was the same crusted Vayok song that merc Inumon blared in my ears during my last night on the Green, every note an individual needle piercing my skull, impossible to ignore.

Reality deserted me, leaving me to sink to the depths of the abyss within my mind where all I could see was Cee’s pale, disturbed expression as she looked to me for guidance. I remembered how my tongue felt clumsy in my mouth as I tried my damnedest to negotiate our transport, thinking if I could just piece together the right sequence of words, if I could just get their lingering eyes off of her, then maybe, maybe we’d have a chance at salvation. 

The memories coalesced, overlapping and blurring and mixing out of order. Each one was drenched in spilt blood.

Then your pinky wrapped around mine. The touch was soft yet firm, the action childlike in its innocence. It was such a jarring contradiction to my mind’s violent narrative, my consciousness was hurtled back into the living quarters of our ship as a result. You didn’t say anything when you saw I returned to you. Instead, you swallowed down the questions lodged in your throat and led me by our entwined fingers back to our bed.

There’s a plant back home called a dandelion, you told me with my head resting in your lap, a far better comfort than any pillow could provide me. It’s the only plant in the galaxy you can see the sun, the moon and the stars when you look at it. That’s not why it’s my favorite though.

I asked how it had won your heart’s favor if not due to its resemblance to the celestial bodies, then immediately found myself mesmerized by the smile that lit up your face as you peered down at me. My chest cavity tightened as I was filled with the profound longing to be able to suspend time, if only so I could stretch this moment to match the length of our separation, if only so I could erase the old and replace it with the beautiful new.

Dandelions grant wishes, babe. Anything you wish for with your whole heart, it will be yours to have.

I told you I wouldn’t wish for anything—nothing else in the galaxy could compare to the prettiest, wisest soul I’d ever encountered in all my years traversing it. You saw right through that lie with the same confident ease you see through all my masks and diversions, but—for the second time in the span of an hour—you held your tongue.

This journal’s as good a place as any to admit the honest truth. So here it is: I wish with the entirety of my bloody, beating heart I could be the man you deserve, little love of mine. 

When you read, whether it be a book or the flight manual, you have the precious habit of mouthing the words. I don’t think you have the faintest notion you’re even doing it, which makes it all the more endearing to watch.

My brother had a similar habit, always nose deep in the yellowing pages of classic literature, except he had a proclivity to spoil the plot when he talked in his sleep. I remember there was one particular novel he returned to often, sometimes reading from beginning to end, other times seeking out specific segments he’d underlined in bold, black pen. It was a rather dreary tale about war and rivalry and the process of determining one’s own identity. I became so exasperated with my brother’s obsession I considered shredding it on more than one occasion, only to immediately hate myself for entertaining the thought.

It was only after his death—twelve whole cycles, in fact—that I summoned up the will to open the front cover. Seeing his name scribbled in the corner, cursive and neat and so utterly him, nearly had me tearing the book in half, overcome with a vicious rage I had never known prior nor have I encountered since. But by the almighty grace of Kevva I reigned it in, chaining it to the agony and fear imprisoned within the confines of my rib cage, and turned the page.

There was one segment underlined not once, but three times, nearly bleeding ink onto the page behind it. When I close my eyes, the words are tattooed on the backs of my eyelids, as haunting as they are comforting.

So the more things remained the same, the more they changed after all. Nothing endures. Not love, not a tree, not even a death by violence.

The author lived and died centuries before my brother’s inception, that is an inarguable fact. 

But I know those words were written for him all the same. 

Notes: 

There is an actual theory humans are made of stardust ✨

The Sater within Prospect mention the Currents as being responsible for bringing Ezra and Cee to them, so I imagine them as similar to the Fates/Moirai in Greek mythology.

Noctua is a real life, extinct constellation that is Latin for owl. I thought within this Prospect universe it could exist as a type of landmark or coordinate. Plus I love owls 🦉

Crusted is a term from Prospect Ezra uses. Equivalent of damn. I think there’s something funny about how they use creamy as a positive adjective and crusted as negative.

Vayok is the alien language Inumon speaks within the movie, so I decided to write the song she blares as being sung in the same language

Bush bread is referenced in a deleted scene by Ezra, but a google search revealed to me it’s also a real life type of bread too

In the same deleted scene Ezra references that he has a brother. I haven’t decided his name yet/if he will have one

The book and quote Ezra refers to in #3 is John Knowles’ A Separate Peace. One of the few required reading books I liked back in high school.

The quote about dandelions being the sun, moon and stars is based on the legend of how dandelions came into existence. I always thought it was beautiful.

Series Taglist: @insomniamamma

Permanent Taglist: @promiscuoussatan, @melobee, @randomness501, @absurdthirst, @captain-jebi, @artsymaddie, @happiestsparkleofall, @disgruntledspacedad, @gallowsjoker, @aerynwrites, @vintagesaph, @sylphene, @chibi-yuki, @freeshavocadoooo, @stilllivindue2spite, @pointy-sharp, @leilei-draws, @over300books, @theocatkov, @oh-no-a-whovian, @you-and-i-deserve-the-world, @lin-djarin, @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives, @coaaster, @waywardmando, @thisshipwillsail316, @grogusmum, @asta-lily, @mylifeofcalculatedchaos @tacticalsparkles​

[expectingtofly]

thinking about a spn finale where cas becomes a full-powered angel again and gets the love and home he deserves (based off this post and tags)

Castiel’s first days on Earth after his time in the Empty were dizzying. He was alive, he could feel joy without a threat hanging over his head, he could look at Dean without a secret sitting heavy in his chest, and he could hear Dean say the words he’d never let himself dream of hearing.

And then, when he felt he could never be happier, Jack asked him a simple question, weighty in its implications:

Would he like to see his grace and wings restored?

Castiel’s grace had been weakening for years, but Jack had the powers of God now. The power to give back all that Castiel had given up for lost.

It was a gift almost too great.

He had long resigned himself to a life of weakened grace, of eventual humanity. A future not too bleak—he had admired humanity for centuries now, always distantly. While his fellow angels may have viewed humans as inferior, he considered the chance of becoming one of them an honor.

Most days, that was.

Some nights, when his back ached with phantom weight and his grace clawed, claustrophobic, to escape his chest, he mourned.

Once he flew over arid desert and lush hills. Once, he flew among the stars, wound his form around star dust, felt the tremor of new planets being birthed, particles colliding. Once, he felt power warm his vessel’s palms, the ability to fully heal, restore, soothe.

All that had been lost to him—until now.

Jack offered him that life again, and Castiel sat, stunned, long after Jack left the room telling him, you don’t need to decide yet.

He remembered a vision Jack had shown him—when Jack still lay in his mother’s womb, when the unborn child's very presence seemed a threat.

Vision of Kelly, content, calm, undisturbed by the fears and guilt which racked her then. Sam, carefree, no weight on his shoulders. Dean. Suffused with joy.

And himself, fully restored to his glory, majestic in a way he hardly remembered, wings flared, strong.

In that moment, as Jack’s power coursed through him, the child’s conception seemed a miracle, his birth a promise. Recklessly, Castiel had bid all on him, this miracle child, this child which held the potential for joy and peace in his barely formed fists.

That future, which Castiel had seen in a vivid flash before his eyes in a wave of warmth and power, now lay before him.

You’ve given up so much, Dean told him. Take this one thing for yourself.

It was a decision he did not take lightly.

As a soldier enrolled in Heaven’s charge, his angelic nature had been manipulated, forced into strict molds. Obedience, control, apathy. The ability to restore was not so marvelous as the ability to sway, to control, to maim and kill.

He was free from those ties now. He had long lived among humanity, long walked in a physical vessel on earth, long studied the face of the humans he loved. Some days he felt closer to the dirt under his feet, the rasp of his clothes, the warmth of the sun on his skin, than to the pulse of his grace deep inside.

Some days, humanity seemed a marvelous prospect.

Other days, he remembered the vicious, searing pain tearing through his form as his grace was ripped from his body and his consciousness fused with his vessel. When he fell without his consent and found himself, bewildered, a human. Shivering nights, cavernous stomach. Bone-chattering loneliness.

It would be different now; he felt secure in his home, in his family. Dean loved him back, told him they were done saying goodbye.

If he chose to become human, he would have a home. He would be clothed and fed and held.

Do you miss them? Dean asked one night, tracing his bare shoulder blades.

He did.

He once believed he could be a different kind of angel—one both tied deeply to Heaven and yet autonomous. One obedient to God and yet free-thinking.

He had learned the hard way that Heaven did not take kindly to such angels. For years had grieved the loss of his Heavenly home, his angelic siblings.

His distance from Heaven, though, had brought him a new freedom. Lessons in faith and hope and individuality. And he began to wonder if he could find a new balance between the two parts of him that once warred—his angelic nature and human one.

If he could live fully on Earth, among humans, as an angel. If he could suffuse the empathy and emotion which he’d learned from humans into his true powerful form.

If he could simply be himself.

Jack gave him the choice, and Dean told him, I’m in love with you—and Castiel knew he meant him. Distant from vessel or power—him.

A father, a friend, a lover. His essence which remained regardless of how much or how little grace resided in his vessel.

He thought he could be himself, truly, in all his facets.

He chose to be restored.

The first stretch of his wings, full and weighty, was glorious. His first flight brought him to tears, and his first return to his true form in so many long years was exhilaratingly freeing. He saw the stars, he moved among them. He twisted in the air and whooped, cheered, hummed.

Dean said he sounded like music, like bells in the sky.

Over time, he learned he did not have to be so distant from God and Heaven as he thought.

God was no longer a distant father, but his son who viewed the world with maturity and wonder. A young boy learning to find his own balance of angelic nature and humanity, willing to learn and teaching Cas so much through his open-eyed view of the world.

And Heaven, too, was being restored. With his experience and Jack’s power, made into a home without discord and hierarchy.

So much he thought he’d lost, restored to him in ways he'd never expected.

Some days, he flew, he twisted up to the heavens in his true form, he summoned his grace to heal, and some days he walked, he tucked his grace deep inside his chest to taste the food Dean prepared for him, to touch the fresh dirt in the gardens outside and feel the coolness under his fingertips.

He felt as if he’d been reborn.

One day, he might like to be human. One day, he might remove his grace and tuck it away, carefully. He might feel his lungs fill with air, his blood run through his veins with life, he might age.

For now, though, power and heat filled his vessel, his wings extended to their full capacity, his true form swirled among the stars, and he,

he was content.

tag list

@xojo @marvelnaturalock @aelysianmuse @prayedtoyou @letsjustdieeveryone @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @theninthdutchessofhell @madronasky @famouspsychicpizzabandit @multifandomdisorder @arcticfox007 @improvedpeanut @castiel-is-a-cat @harmonyhelms @dean-you-assbutt-cas-loves-you @confusedisaster @welcome-to-crowleys-hellhole @celestialcastiel @wormstacheangel (hope y’all don’t mind me tagging you but your tags on my original post were inspiring so I gotta give credit where credit is due :)) @nothoughtsjustdestiel @hawkland @strokesnatural @notspiccy

let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the tag list :)

[duhragonball]

I think you're right, although I'm not sure if Cinema Sins and its ilk are the cause or just a symptom.

I'd argue that this goes back a long way, maybe even as far as Mad Magazine, which spoofed pop culture and inspired load of imitators over the decades. Maybe it's even older than that. But yeah, Cinema Sins kind of crystallizes the problem, so it makes a good illustration of the fallacy involved.

Like Mad's movie parodies, I think Cinema Sins is somewhat "obligated" to rip on just about *any* movie, good or bad. That's not a problem in itself, since nothing is immune from criticism. I generally liked Godfather Part I, but I watched that clip of Peter Griffin complaining about it and it almost felt like he was reading my mind. It does insist on itself.

But Cinema Sins probably can't just do a video complaining about how Godfather I drags on in places. They have to find nitpicks to point out, like they would do for a bad movie. And if they can't find a serious problem, that only increases the temptation to exaggerate a minor problem, or just invent a problem out of thin air. The formula for the videos is more important than the quality of the critique.

Years ago, I uses to read a website called "Mr Cranky", who was basically doing a parody of Siskel and Ebert with an insult comic twist. He'd rate movies with bombs instead of stars, and even the good movies would get one bomb, though he struggled to find anything bad about them. I stopped reading him when he started using the reviews to rant about the Iraq War. Even when he stuck to his gimmick, it was becoming clear that he was running out of ways to say every movie was a crime against humanity, and the war protest stuff only underscored that roasting "Ballistic: Ecks vs Sever" wasn't really worth the effort.

I'm not above lambasting stuff I don't like, but at some point you have to be willing to give equal time to the good stuff, or your "angry tirade" humor will lose all impact. This is why the Angry Video Game Nerd will occasionally cover good games, or give a bad game credit where it's due. It keeps things fresh by reminding you what a good game should be, and why the bad ones are so frustrating.

But I think a lot of internet wannabes see acts like AVGN, or MST3K, or Cinem Sins or whatever, and they try to ape the formula without understanding the nuance. It's like how everybody used to try to get into pro wrestling because of the Rock, and they knew how to wear sunglasses and act like an arrogant horse's ass, but they couldn't learn how to run the ropes or do a thousand squats or all the other boring parts the Rock had to learn just to get hired.

The other thing that irks me is when I see people making snap judgments based on parodies or reviews, or just other people discussing things on Twitter or wherever. That's how you get all these dopes who post bad DBZ takes based on Team FourStar videos. They're eager to watch a series of 10-minute parody videos, but reluctant to take the plunge and commit to a 400+ episode anime series. That's because they're not interested in Dragon Ball; they're only interested in the engagement they get from making cheap jokes and "hot" takes.

To be clear, I'm not gatekeeping here. You're not a "fake fan" for not seeing the entirety of a series. But I've seen people who have only watched an arc or two, and they generally keep their opinions and critiques confined to the parts they actually saw. They're not talking shit about Majin Buu when they've only seen the Saiyans Saga, for example. The phonies are the ones who rip on stuff because they saw someone else do it and wanted to pile on without knowing any better.

That's also what leads into this brittle mindset where anything that happens in pop fiction is meant to represent some endorsement by the author. "Oh, Goku hit Gohan once, I guess that means Akira Toriyama likes child abuse!" That's intellectually dishonest, and I think most people understand that, but a lot of people have been conditioned to turn everything into a hill they need to die on.

I asked someone once to elaborate on why they called the Cell Saga "broken", and it basically boiled down the old story about how Toriyama's editors kept having him tinker with the villain. As far as I know, it's a true story, but it's also a behind-the-scenes story. The finished product should be judged on its own merit, not the chaotic environment that produced it. You don't have to like the Androids/Cell arc, but you can't just cite editorial directives as your critique. What's wrong with the comics themselves?

But I never got an answer, which I think was because this person wasn't prepared to give one. They just decided that the editor situation at Shueisha automatically disqualified the arc from being good. That's unfair to the arcs they *do* like, whatever those are, because apparently those are only deemed "good" for having less public awareness of editorial meddling. That's barnyard logic.

Anyway, it all stems from this desire to "defeat" media people don't like. People want a mathematical proof to justify not consuming or enjoying a piece of media, and that's bonkers. I lost interest in the MCU years ago, and that's good enough reason for me to not watch Eternals. I literally do not care enough to go to the trouble of seeing it. I don't trust the studio anymore, I don't have any investment in the characters, and the novelty of a bunch of actors standing around in superhero costumes wore off a looonng time ago. I'm not even saying it's a bad movie. It's probably good, but they haven't overcome my apathy and I'm not expecting that to chance anytime soon. I don't need to cite backstage shenanigans or stage a one-man boycott in protest of a line of dialogue. I don't need to make a video lambasting all the problems with the plot. I can just stay in my lane, and everything is fine.

[kjmsupremacist]

Felix sweet boy baby angel but Christopher Bang is literally Satan? Idk if you saw but Hyunjin ratted him out on live and said the lyrics for Red Light were toned down. I don’t want to know. I don’t. He was already talking about edging and I don’t want to know. He can keep his Scorpio Venus and his Sag Mars away from me and everyone I love. I would give anything to know his rising if sign. It’s giving Earth but there’s so much air in his chart it’s hard to be sure. 🤖

i am so happy you sent me this ask because i have been looking for an excuse to talk about red lights. I sent leon and margot a seven minute long voice message when i was doing my research for my red lights-inspired fic like that's where i'm at.

First, yes, I saw Hyunjin's comments! that's what chris gets for trying to say hyunjin wrote all the lyrics in the first place. nice try, chris. also, his scorpio venus is SEXY. i won't be taking criticism on this opinion.

Now. Please see under the cut if you want to watch me dissect Red Lights -- both the lyrics and the MV.

so, credit where credit's due--I skimmed this and this reddit posts while I was doing my research.

now. we all know that on the surface, this song is about sex (and specifically bondage and edging—that much is clear). but, ah, how's the saying go? "everything is about sex except for sex, which is about power"? sure.

yeah, it's meant to be sexy. they did that for us and im still not sure if I want to kill them for it or thank them with my life. BUT, as they mentioned in the howl in harmony video, it's primarily a song about obsession.

The first reddit post does a great (albeit kind of aggressive) breakdown of the lyrics, where it becomes really clear that they're talking about the relationship they have with their work and the relationship they have with fans. In essence, the song is about how they want to give their lives and all their time to making more content for fans so that they will continue to receive love from us. The red lights are actually the recording light on a camera (hence the line “set the mic up”).

And so a relationship like the one depicted here is dark and intense, and yes—passionate and driven by love—but ultimately, it consumes itself in the vortex of its own desire, and then peters out into a sort of blank monotony—learned through repetition, a habitual reflex instead of a true reaction.

Then, the second reddit post goes on a deep dive of some of the symbolism seen in the MV—specifically, the use of kink. This is where it gets really fun.

We mostly see Hyunjin in shibari-style bondage. OP posits (and I agree) that he is meant to represent passion without discipline. The shibari ropes are tied messily (and so therefore dangerously) which is perfect for representing how often kink (and other obsessions) can devolve—you plunge in headfirst, but you are directionless except for the insistent tug in your gut that cries for more, more.

Chan, on the other hand, is seen primarily (esp in solo scenes) bound by heavy chains. He represents discipline with no passion. In the Howl in Harmony video, I believe he mentions that after a long day of practice, he'll still find himself in the recording studio, even though he's tired. He does what he has to on autopilot, because he knows he must, because it’s the only thing he feels he can do.

If Hyunjin is mania, then Chan is depression. The chains are GREAT symbolism because this dutiful march towards burnout and beyond is, as the lyrics suggest, stemming from a desire to keep receiving love (from fans)—that if you just work hard enough then no one will ever leave you. You wish to bind the person (or people) you love to you, but in the end the bonds only weigh you down.

So then the part where they’re tied together, back to back, at the end, shows when passion and discipline come into balance. And that’s creation for the love of creation while still maintaining a respect for yourself, the art, and your audience. (or idk. maybe they just thought we'd like to see them tied to one another. and they were right).

It's also fun because while we see Hyunjin and Chan both assume positions of domination and submission, it's clear Chan is meant to be the “dominant force” here (hence discipline). The reason we do see instances of Hyunjin in power (choking Chan, standing over him on the table) is because any somewhat healthy d/s relationship involves first the surrender of power. The dom is only perceived to be in power because the sub first relinquishes it them. So. You know.

I will say I'm not sure what to say about the edging theme (BNKSJDF) besides the obvious—almost giving you what you want, but not quite.

And finally, this is not part of either of those two reddit posts, but I was ENTHRALLED by the use of mirror and mirror-esque imagery throughout the MV and in the choreo. I love mirrors as a symbol so we're going to talk about that, too.

First and most obviously, it may be a bit on the nose. In art, mirrors and reflections are often used to show that there is a deeper meaning than what is clear on the surface. So this might have just been hyunchan going "hey! it's not just about sex!"

but I think there's more to it than that. Mirrors are often used as a vessel of truth—in some Chinese myths, for example, mirrors can repel demons, as they will show a demon’s true form. Or see the Little Mermaid—though Ursula managed to change her outward appearance, she was caught in her lie when another character (sebastian, i think?) saw her reflection in the mirror.

Additionally, one’s reflection used to be thought to contain one’s soul—which is why mirrors were covered in the home of person who had just passed, so they would not be trapped as a ghost in the world of the living.

For this reason, mirrors are often also considered dangerous. Think of Narcissus, for a start, who fell in love with his own reflection and sat at the water's edge, pining, until he fucking died. Or consider the following quote (which I love) from Fernando Pessoa:

“Man shouldn’t be able to see his own face – there’s nothing more sinister. Nature gave him the gift of not being able to see it, and of not being able to stare into his own eyes. Only in the water of rivers and ponds could he look at his face. And the very posture he had to assume was symbolic. He had to bend over, stoop down, to commit the ignominy of beholding himself. The inventor of the mirror poisoned the human heart.”

We use mirrors to watch ourselves watching ourselves (and the Margaret Atwood who lives in our heads cries “male fantasies, male fantasies! You are you own voyeur!”). We perform for the mirror—often what we see in the mirror is not actually how we are seen by others! We think we may find truth there, when in reality it is a distortion. Ties itself up really nicely, I think.

In any case, this really goes well with the theme of obsession in the song—staring in the mirror asking, what do others see? What is wrong about me? What can I do better? The idea of looking in the mirror to seek what others see, both positive and negative, is common throughout. And I think their use of mirrored choreo (esp when it seems like one of them is the reflection!!), as well as mirror placement on the set of the mv, and ESPECIALLY the lovely bit at the end where they both stand staring carefully at their own reflections, all work to drive that theme home.

and i don't even know how to touch on all the color symbolism (when it changes between color and b&w?? the palette being overwhelmingly yellow and red and black???), or the lens filters (warping, blurring, etc), or the way they superimposed pieces of the video on top of other pieces, or the use of that one stark white background—without writing a fucking dissertation (and this is already a ridiculously long post) so i'll just stop here.

This is all to say, maybe what they meant was that the lyrics were a lot more aggressive about these themes and they were asked to tone them down to keep it neutral.

or maybe they're just sexy, sexy motherfuckers and their managers bonked them on the head and sent them to horny jail.

[uomo-accattivante]

Great article about Paul Schrader’s The Card Counter - a poker movie that’s not really a poker movie...

Some filmmakers write a hit movie and spend the ensuing years trying to escape its shadow. Paul Schrader never flinched. Forty-five years after his “Taxi Driver” script put him on the map, the writer-director has developed a body of work loaded with alienated anti-heroes compelled to violent and reckless extremes for the sake of a higher calling.

That includes “The Card Counter,” in which Oscar Isaac plays guilt-stricken Abu Ghraib vet William Tell, a man with a gambling addiction compelled to help the revenge-seeking son (Tye Sheridan) of a former colleague. Taking justice into his own hands, Isaac’s William Tell slithers through the Vegas strip in search of questionable salvation, not unlike a certain Vietnam vet named Travis Bickle did from the driver’s seat. As if to cement the comparisons, “The Card Counter” features Martin Scorsese as an executive producer, marking the first time the two men share a credit since 1999’s “Bringing Out the Dead.”

For Schrader, “Taxi Driver” comparisons are inevitable in all his work. “My tendency is to look for interesting occupational metaphors,” Schrader said in a recent interview. “‘Taxi Driver’ hit the bull’s eye of the zeitgeist and it doesn’t die. There’s no way I could’ve planned for that, but it does inform the stories I tell.”

At 75, Schrader continues to churn out movies much like his compatriot Scorsese, albeit on a much smaller scale. “The Card Counter” is the latest illustration of the secularized Christian dogma percolating through his work. “Our society doesn’t like to take responsibility for anything,” he said. “But I come from a culture where you’re responsible for everything. You come into the world soaked with guilt and you just get guiltier.” In his own prickly fashion, Schrader makes movies steeped in empathy for lost souls in search of redemption despite the daunting odds. “We’re all certainly capable of forgiveness,” he said, and chuckled. “Anyone who says otherwise is wrong.”

The “Taxi Driver” dilemma looms large in nearly all of Schrader’s work, from the dazzling high-stakes activism of “Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters” all the way through Ethan Hawke’s eco-conscious priest in “First Reformed.” While the latter, Oscar-nominated effort brought Schrader new fans, “The Card Counter” is an even more precise distillation of his aesthetic — a moody, philosophical drama about the vanity of the personal crusade.

Schrader, who has labeled his homegrown character studies as “man in the room” dramas, embraces the parallels as usual. “There is this kind of myth that the taxi driver was this friendly, joking kind of guy who was a character actor in movies,” he said. “But the reality is that it’s a very lonely job, and you’re trapped in a box for 60 hours a week.” He saw the same logic with gambling, a wayward profession generally depicted in the movies in the context of escapist romps, rather than the somber rituals that afflict most players. “I thought about the essence of playing cards every day, or sitting in front of a slot machine. It’s kind of zombie-like,” Schrader said. “You see commercials of people in casinos laughing. But it’s a pretty glum place. Today with slots you don’t even have to pull the lever. You just sit there and let the numbers roll.”

The gambling figure led Schrader to the bigger picture of his character’s conundrum. “I was wondering why someone would choose to live in that sort of purgatory,” he said. “He doesn’t want to be alive, but he can’t really be dead, either. What could cause that? It can’t be a simple crime, murder, or a family dispute. It has to be something unforgivable. And that was Abu Ghraib.”

After the fallout of that debacle, William did time in a military prison, and reenters society before the movie begins. That was a world the filmmaker wanted to understand in clearer terms. Though Schrader has received blowback for his controversial Facebook posts in the past, in this case, the platform was an asset: He used it to track down soldiers who had done time in the United States Penitentiary in Leavenworth, the only military prison in the U.S., to better understand the initial claustrophobic world that Tell endures, as well as the conflict between the justice he’s received and what he deserves. “This man has been punished by his government, set free, and paid his due, but he doesn’t feel that,” Schrader said. “What does he do then? How does he fill his time? That’s how it all began.”

Schrader himself toyed with gambling when he lived in Los Angeles early in his career, but soon gave it up. “I very quickly realized I was only interested in gambling if it was really dangerous and I didn’t want to expose myself to that kind of danger,” he said. Years later, though, the experience helped inform his story. “There is this whole fantasy of gambling movies from ‘The Cincinnati Kid’ to ‘California Split,’” Schrader said. “But poker is all about waiting. People will play 10 to 12 hours a day and two to three times a day, a hand will happen where two players both have chips. Now you’ve got a face-off. But that doesn’t happen very often. Most guys who are there are running the numbers, the probability.”

He envisioned “The Card Counter” as a repudiation of the traditional poker movie, which builds to the giddy release of a final tournament. When that moment arrives in the movie, Schrader takes the movie in a bleak, shocking new direction. “It’s not really a poker movie — that’s a red herring,” he said.

William is immersed in his casino journey when he encounters Cirk (Sheridan), the crazy-eyed son of another Abu Ghraib soldier who committed suicide. Cirk blames the soldiers’ former commander (Willem Dafoe), and hopes to loop William into the plan. Instead, the older man decides to take Cirk under his wing to talk him out of the act, which doesn’t prove so easy. In the process, the gambler forms a curious bond with La Linda (Tiffany Haddish), a gambling agent and pimp whose icy, relentless drive to make the most out of the poker circuit brings William some measure of companionship on his wayward journey.

It should come as no surprise that the “Girls Trip” breakout is nearly unrecognizable in the role of the calculated La Linda, which is also a distinctly Schraderish touch: From his work with Richard Pryor in 1978’s “Blue Collar” all the way through Cedric the Entertainer’s supporting turn in “First Reformed,” Schrader has made a habit of seeking out comedic actors willing to play against type. That’s partly opportunistic on his part. “They’re eager to do it because they want to expand their palette, so you can get them for a price,” Schrader said, chuckling again. “That’s necessary, given the kind of films I make.” But that’s not all: “They will always find a way to be interesting, even when they’re not getting a laugh.”

Which is not to say that the process comes easily to them. Haddish recently told the New York Times that Schrader had to coach her out of speaking in a comedic sing-song. The filmmaker put it in blunter terms. “On the first reading of the script we had, frankly, she wasn’t very good,” he said. “I told her to go back and read every single line without emotion. Then I said, ‘You’re not going to do that in front of the camera, but you can’t hit every line either. So let’s pick five or six lines you can hit where you get a smile or reaction.’ Quickly she got that it was a different rhythm.”

As for Isaac, whose disquieting turn suggests a maniac lingering just beneath the surface, Schrader once again turned to metaphor. “I told him to imagine himself on a rocky coast in the ocean,” Schrader said. “Waves are going to come up and get you all day every day. They’re going to try to batter you. Let them. The waves will go away. You’ll still be there. Don’t compete. In the end, the rocks will win. You have to learn to trust that the way these things are put together has more power than the individual movement.”

William’s routine includes an odd ritual in which he covers all the furniture in his various Vegas hotel rooms with white paper. While the motivation is never explained, Schrader said it stemmed from an experience with production designer Ferdinando Scarfiotti on the set of 1982’s “Cat People,” when Schrader realized the man was doing the same thing. “He said, quite simply, ‘I have to live here surrounded by these ugly hotel furnishings,’” Schrader recalled. The concept inspired the new movie’s most compelling visual motif. “Casinos are very ugly places. There are no exceptions,” Schrader said. “Often you aspire to finding pockets of beauty and there weren’t really any here except the only place he could control, which was his hotel rooms, where he could privatize his visions. I came up with this ritual for him to control those visuals.”

At a certain point, Schrader himself couldn’t control the visuals of “The Card Counter” for more prosaic reasons: After an extra tested positive for COVID-19, the production shut down last March, with five days of shooting left, and couldn’t resume until July. Though Schrader initially took to Facebook to fume at his producers, the pause eventually opened up an opportunity to tweak his vision. “I edited the film and put in placeholders for the five or six scenes of consequence that I hadn’t shot,” he said. “I didn’t have a fully finished film but I could screen it for people. Normally you only get that privilege if you have a big-budget film and you’re allowed reshoots.” The early audience included Scorsese, who provided a crucial note. “I asked Marty, ‘What am I missing?’ He said to me that the relationship with Tiffany and Oscar was too thin. So I rewrote those scenes.”

Schrader asked Scorsese to take on the executive producer credit as a favor. “I said, ‘Marty, wouldn’t it be nice to share a card again? I thought it would help sell the film but it would also be a cool thing to do after all these years,’” Schrader said. “Then a couple of weeks later his agent called wanting to work out a deal. What deal? I asked Marty and he said yes. That’s the deal!” Now, the pair are trying to collaborate on a new long-form TV series based on the Bible, though the timing has been delayed by production on Scorsese’s upcoming “Killers of the Flower Moon.”

In the meantime, Schrader has been mulling over the way “Taxi Driver” not only continues to inform his storytelling but the world at large. “Hardly a week goes by that I don’t notice or hear some reference to it,” he said. “But I don’t know how you’d tell such a story today. A number of writers have tried and I don’t think they’ve succeeded because it has to come out of a certain place and time. We have plenty of these incels around, but they’re not as original or revealing as they were 45 years ago when that character came on the scene. I wouldn’t know how to write about it.”

Instead, his next project is a love triangle called “Master Gardener,” which he hopes to shoot in Louisiana before the end of the year. He has several other potential scripts ready to go after that. And while he has expressed trepidation about the future of cinema in the past, he’s not convinced that audiences have given up on it yet. He recalled a conversation he had with Cedric the Entertainer when “First Reformed” made the rounds. “He said off-handedly to me, ‘You know, I didn’t realize there were so many people who liked serious movies,’” Schrader said, and chuckled once more. “Well, yeah, there are.”

“The Card Counter” premieres next week at the Venice Film Festival. Focus Features releases on September 10, 2021.

###

[mocacheezy]

Things that made watching Transformers (2007) easier and even enjoyable:

[note: B'verse gets the treatment that it gets by fandom for good reasons. There are tons of posts that dissect the bullshit of these movies far better than my second-language-english-non-american self could ever tackle, so I am not doing that, or plan on doing that. But if I decide that I'll get through every continuity of the franchise I will find a way to make it fun for myself. And so, this is my search for golden nuggets in these movies, because they did bring in new fans to the franchise and that's why we have other continuities that we might not have otherwise. Credit where it's due, and some positivity for those that did find B'verse at least amusing if nothing else. ]

🍴🥄🔪🍴🥄🔪🍴🥄🔪🍴🥄🔪🥄🔪🍴🥄🔪

Frenzy

Anytime Frenzy was on screen made me smile because his movements and personality were hilarious, he is just so expressive despite looking like someone super glued a bunch of knifes together. I wouldn't know it was Frenzy if I didn't go to the Wiki, but no matter that, he was funny and that's what matters.

The original Cybertronian robot modes

We don't see them for long, but the glimpses were glorious. Just look at Optimus

Gorgeous. What I wouldn't give to see the details up close. Maybe I'll go looking eventually, but this is just so nice.

We also get a "sexily rises from the pool" scene with Ironhide (probably unintentional and I am biased due to being a robofucker. In any case, very very nice and Cybertronians look so good as aliens)

"Excuse me, are you the Tooth Fairy?"

You see this kid?

This little girl was the only human I cared about in the movie until I saw just how badass Mikaela is, and how cool the military dude is. I don't like kids, but I would lay down my life for this girl.

This one scene just makes me think of what would happen if her parents showed up way earlier. Ironhide would be her guardian and it would be both adorable and hilarious because "Honey, you have to drive in a sentient alien that looks just like our car because the goverment men said so or there will be consequences and potential alien threats."

There are so many joke potentials there; the cultural barrier, the "I am the ine that is supposed to keep her safe" glaring contests, there is just so much shenanigans that could happen.

Also, tea party with the kid. Tea party with the kid.

Sam Witwicky actually reacts like an average human would when faced with the situations he finds himself in

Do I like Sam Witwicky? No, he is the kind of character that I would want to punch irl because of his personality and actions. He is disgusting. But watching him scamper and scream and stutter when faced with giant metal robot aliens that can squish him like a bug? Good, that was a beliavable reaction and I enjoyed it a great deal.

Megatron. Just, ✨Megatron✨

(the best screenshot of the few I could take while watching, no, I am not going back for a better one, he looks perfect like this)

I also laughted at how they kept him frozen like a popsicle. And not even well, like, they COULD'VE made an actual freezer and pop him in instead of using those couple of tubes just so he was displayed for all personell to gawk at. HE CRASHED IN THE ANTARCTIC!

The design looks so good, because it looks ALIEN and POINTY and AGH!!! The colors? There are no colors that would make him stand out, he looks like someone opened a cutlery drawer, mixed up what's inside, threw in some extra knifes for a good measure and then shook the whole thing until this guy materialized from the pile. It is both incredibly annoying and satisfying.

🔪

Mr. Welker did an amazing job with his voice, I don't know what the directions were, but oh man it sure sent shivers down my spine. That is the kind of voice that spells "You are going to die" and I already have my coffin picked out.

EDIT: SO APPARENTLY! IT WAS NOT WELKER THAT VOICED MEGATRON.

It was Hugo Weaving, and yes the man did am amazing job, but I apologize a million times, I was CERTAIN that THE OG VA OF MEGATRON WOULD ALSO HAVE VOICED MEGATRON. LIKE, OKAY BAY, OKAY!

🔪

LOOK AT THE AMOUNT OF ICE! With how quick he came back fully online once Frenzy turned off the freeze liquid tubes, I bet he was half awake through the whole thing. Systems just below idling or something, in any case, AGENTS YOU ARE SO DUMB! WHO WAS GIVING SUBPAR FUNDING TO THEM, THEY BETTER BE FIRED!

I also was glad that Sam refused to call him by the name the sector asigned to him, despite Megatron being in stasis. And that he insisted they use the correct name. Good job Sam, acknowledge the threat by the actual name and show respect to a fellow sentient lifeform. Even though said lifeform is hellbent on destruction of the universe and your world.

ALSO, AND I CANNOT STRESS THE LAUGHTER AND AMUSEMENT HERE; the sheer DISRESPECT! They don't disassemble Megatron's corpse. No, these idiots, these absolute morons decide to dump him into the ocean, letting him sink to the lowest possible point (not sure if they did say it was the M' Trench or not), where there are proper freezing temperatures - good! You're learning, good job!! - just... In full. Full corpse. What's left of him. Just blup! Down with the fishies he goes!

I understand that they probably didn't know how to approach Optimus about it, but... At least behead the guy. He came back ONCE, who is to say he won't come back again?! Safety precautions my dears.

They also completely disregard what a giant extraterrestrial metal alien rusting away on the bottom of the ocean could do to the ecosystem at large. Like, I find this incredibly amusing, because this ISN'T something most folks think about when watching a movie but we have giant squids down there. We have so much weird things down there, the ocean isn't even fully explored AND YOU WANT TO CHUCK AN ALIEN CORPSE DOWN THERE?!

Now the real question: is he a looker? *looks at the pictures* hmmmm, depends on if you like knifes. Like, really like knifes. Like really, really REALLY want to get it on with a fine assembly of kitchen knifes that were exposed to the elements but somehow haven't rusted away completely.

I think he's neat.

Needs a good long powerwash though. Preferrably with something to help the whole "I was frozen for more than 50 years and sprang back to action as soon as I woke up" thing that happened.

My man needs to take a moment and get his bearings, like dude. Please. You can conquer the world after some energon and slow system boot-up period. The strain on the systems my dude, you ain't young.

Also love that this "death" was probably reused in TFP because lord golly, do we love our faves ending up under the sea. (Though Megan took a much bigger fall, Bayverse WAS PLOPPED INTO THE WATER LIKE A NEWLY ACQUIRED FISH I CAN'T YOU GUYS I CAN'T!)

In short: I love the comedy of american military giving such disrespect to an Alien Warlord. These guys are really sealing their fate.

I loved the way they got the Witwicky family to be important to the plot

The whole "selling my great great grandpa's glasses on e-bay" thing gives us a very good self insert/OC/rewrite/movie AU potential. Don't like Sam and his disgustingness? Find a way to write a cousin or some far off relative or hell, even just someone who buys the glasses off e-bay and go wild with it!

Archibald was also clearly an inspiration for Isaac Sumdac as far as I can tell, what with both of them using Megatron as a means of helping technology advance.

Only difference being one of them lived and actually talked to Megatron after he came back online and the other got driven to madness and death due to the amount of information beamed into his brain. Isaac also acquired a space baby daughter, so the guy is absolutely luckier of the two.

Mikaela being fucking competent and badass throughout the movie, and not being just fanservice eyecandy

I could do without the fanservice, but her personality? I loved it. I loved that she wasn't crawling to Sam and wasn't being "hard to get". Which is also why I was very displeased at the very sudden "oh yeah, romance! She returns his feelings after he took her for a ride and let her vent her frustrations!". The movie is 2 hours long and they could throw in some moments where these two connect?

Welp, it is an action movie, boy gets girl no matter what, can't complain about the staple in the genre.

However, Mikaela x Optimus? Now THAT is something I considered as soon as the two locked eyes and interacted. Like, even taking my shipping goggles off, these two could have a very interesting dynamic and Mikaela could be a very good protagonist. I wonder what the movie would be like with her as the lead and Sam being the fucking moron she has to drag along with her.

BUT ALSO! Can we talk about the horrible, excruciating fact that her and Bumblebee drove around with Bee's damaged legs dragging over asphalt all the time he was shooting at 'Cons? There were sparks flying! SHE WAS DRIVING BACKWARDS! She took command of the situation and did what she could because Bee still wanted TO FIGHT!

Also, they way she beat up Frenzy? Gorgeous, I want to slap Sam's non-existent balls off for not atleast saying "thanks". The dude would be sliced thinner than cabbage if she wasn't there.

The millitary man we are supposed to care about because his wife gave birth while he was on duty and we see his baby three times in the whole movie, actually being a pretty awesome and well-written character

Look, personally, I was a little confused at the reason why we were seeing his wife and baby interacting/the scene where she thinks her husband is dead. Mostly because I don't like kids, so scenes like that, when I don't even know who the character is, have no impact at all. Him having a baby isn't going to make me like the guy more, unless I know his character. Him being absent because he's on duty doesn't mean he'll be a good dad (though he looks like the kind of man that will try his best, and I like that in a man). So seeing his wife and kid at the start of the movie seemed pointless to me.

BUT! FOCUSING ON THE POSITIVES HERE!

Lennox is a good character and whenever he was on screen I was invested in what is going to happen to him. He's the kind of action movie lead that would have me invested, despite my meh interest in mainly gun fight oriented action movies.

Essentially, loved the guy, would love to see more of him while also being able to tell what's happening on screen. Also the comedy scenes he was in were usually funny.

~

Okay so these are the things I like about the first movie! It was very long, had to watch it on 2,5x speed because it simultainously dragged while ALSO giving me too much information, but the moments like these and the way my imagination latched onto characters I liked made it watchable. It isn't a movie I'd use to introduce someone to the TF franchise, but it provided me with lots of material for my imagination to run wild.

[equalstrashflavoredtrash]

A Trip to the Market

WELP I JUST WENT AND WROTE A FIC FOR @cptnbvcks​ NOW SHE’S GOTTA FORGIVE ME FOR TALKING ABT FUCKING JAR JAR BINKS

This fic is really indulgent. Cus what this fandom totally needs is another fic abt groping in a cantina and then fuckin in alley. Anyway I hope you enjoy this horny mess i’ve made. This one’s for all my homies with thicc thighs! directily inspired by this post and then encougraged this idiot

Din DjarinX female!Reader (no y/n)//The Mandalorian

wordcount: 5.4k

warnings: SMUT, dom!Mando, bondage/ropes (not restraints tho), teasing, slight exhibitionism/sex in public, fingering, penetration, cockwarming, oral (f receving), some cum eating, aftercare, shibari **PLEASE NOTE: I DONT KNOW SHIT ABT SHIBARI, THIS FIC IS FANTASY, DO NOT USE IT AS A GUIDE. go learn abt it from someone who knows what they’re talking abt cus that’s not me lol

You hadn’t been sitting long when Mando arrived—crossing the threshold of the cantina exactly when he said he would, as punctual as ever. You watched as he surveyed the room, taking in every patron before moving from the entrance. He made his way across the dusty floor, his steps strong and sure as he approached your table.

Silently he slid in the booth, settling to sit directly next to you with his back to the wall. You had been mindful to choose a table in the back of the room, knowing his preference for positioning himself.  

“Have a good morning?” He asked, the visor of his helmet tilting towards you ever so slightly.

“We did,” you smiled, thinking about the little green toddler before taking a sip of your drink as you shifted your weight, adjusting to be more comfortably seated—your surprise for Mando proving to make sitting for an extended period quite awkward. “We went for a walk along the river and caught some toads. Little guy was worn out by the time we got back so he’s down for a nap right now instead of coming along. Any luck finding the lead on that bounty?” You fiddled with the cup in your hand, rocking the bottom of it against the stained wooden table as he hummed in response, the sound coming across crackled through his helmet.

“No.” Mando’s answer was clipped and you could tell he was distracted. Unable to see his eyes, it was impossible to know exactly what he was looking at, but you’d bet all your credits he had finally noticed the creep at the bar.

From the moment you had walked in he’d been staring, watching intently as you ordered your drink and sat down to wait for the Mandalorian. The stranger wore a wide brim hat pulled low over his brow, shading his face in the already dimly lit cantina. You had been stared at plenty of times before, but usually they stopped once they caught a glimpse of the Mandalorian. This guy though, he had continued to keep his head turned squarely in your direction.

“I’ve just been ignoring him,” you stated as you nudged Mando’s elbow with your own, pulling his attention back to you.

“I know,” he replied, still looking out, watching the room. “As long as he doesn’t try anything.”

You watched out of the corner of your eye as Mando’s hand started to move, pulling away from where it rested on the tabletop. Situations like this with the creep were nothing new, and both you and Mando realized that sometimes, certain displays were effective in getting a message across to strangers that wouldn’t leave you alone. When you were making plans earlier with Mando over the com-link, he suggested meeting up at the cantina, and you wondered if something like this would happen—but as his hand landed on the bare skin just below the hem of your skirt, you suddenly didn’t care.

The worn leather of Mando’s glove cupped your knee, giving a small squeeze before continuing to drift along your thigh. You bit your lip, trying to hide your smile—there was a bubble of excitement in your chest that was not only your normal jitters from feeling Mando’s hands on you, but an eagerness for him to discover…

His pinky bumped into it first. You could tell he had noticed by the way his touch hesitated before continuing. Once the rest of his fingers slid further up, stroking over each ridge of the eight woven cords binding around your thighs, his helmet spun around—his neck snapping to face you. You tried to flash him a face of innocence as if you had no idea why you suddenly had the ever-vigilant Mandalorian’s undivided attention.

Looping a finger through one one of the bands wrapped around your legs he tugged, feeling the soft give of your flesh against the coarse material. “Are these ropes?” he asked, his voice sounding low through the vocoder as the visor stayed even, trained on you. You could almost feel his gaze boring into you like blaster fire, watching for even the slightest hint of a tell.

“Uh-huh,” you confirmed with a quick nod. “Tied it myself.”

“I want to see—”

“No!” You spoke quickly, hands jumping to grab his forearm as you interrupted him before remembering to keep your voice low. “Mando, there’s people watching.” You raised your eyebrows, trying to make your point clear but you felt his touch tracing along the crisscrossing cords, following how they snaked around your curves.

You had taken your time before leaving the Razor Crest, starting at your waist and then moving to twist the rope to wrap around each leg four times. The loops were spaced evenly along outside of your thigh, crisscrossing into an alluring woven pattern that drew in towards your center. It had been a spur of the moment idea, a fun way to surprise the Mandalorian—and you were happy with the results so far. You felt secure with the cords winding around your hips and you knew he also enjoyed when you were bound like this—even if it was unusual for you to tie them yourself.

But Mando didn’t like your answer. Seeing his face wasn’t necessary to know he was annoyed, you could feel the warning in the way his hand tensed.

With a gulp you finished off your drink and left the empty cup on the table before moving away from him, scooting out of the booth. He didn’t try to hold you in your seat, letting your legs slide from under his hands. Gathering your things, you draped the strap of your messenger bag over your shoulder so the leather crossed your chest, resting comfortable between your breasts.

“I have a few errands I want to run, see if I can find one of those valves and maybe get some food.” You tried to keep your expression nonchalant, attempting to sound candid and not react to the way Mando was watching you. It was hard to tell just where he was looking but you were sure he was imagining you without your flowy orange sundress.

“Fine,” he sighed, his voice sounding like a huff through the distortion of the hemlet. Mando rose from his seat, standing over you before he gestured for you to lead the way.

You couldn’t remember the last time Mando had walked beside you. Usually he trailed two paces behind, keeping you directly in his range of vision as he scanned the surroundings—always on alert incase of a surprise—but now he stayed close, his shoulder occasionally bumping yours until he raised his hand to rest on the small of your back.

His fingers stroked along your hips—something small that seemed like an affectionate caress at first, but he was searching. Once he found the bump from the rope that looped around your middle under the fabric of your dress, he thumbed at it, idly strumming—and training your thoughts on his touch.

You tried to ignore him, searching the stalls as you moved through the open air market. Stepping away from his grasp, you approached a vendor, interested in the fruits they were selling. His hand had fallen from your back but Mando stayed within arm’s reach.

The Mandalorian appeared stoic as ever as you attempted to barter with the middle aged man who stood across the table of produce. The vendor had no way of seeing how Mando’s hand danced around the hem of your skirt behind you—the occasional brush of his fingertips against the back of your leg, or the way he would pinch and tug at your dress distracting you from the conversation at hand. His efforts paired with the language barrier lead you to struggle communicating and eventually give up, waving your hands and walking away.

Mando followed, ever the sentinel at your heels, until you halted to face him.

“Cut it out,” you hissed, feeling a familiar heat creeping into your cheeks from behind your ears. You wondered for a moment if he could tell—he mentioned once his visor had a sensor for changes in body temperature.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His helmet dipped, looking at you as he continued with a professional tone, “I’m just making sure you’re safe. We’re on a new planet, in a strange town surrounded by people. I think it’s prudent I stay close, don't you?”

With a huff you spun on your heel—if he was going to play it like that you’d have your own fun. As you turned you tried to add as much of a twist as you could, knowing well the way the dress’ light fabric flounced with abrupt movements. A subtle fling of your hand guided it to billow and lift, catching the air to reveal just enough. He most likely only saw the briefest glimpse of what you were hiding but you knew that was ample fodder.

You weren’t able to move quickly, the reality of wearing ropes wound around the apex of your thighs while walking in a humid climate was starting to make itself known—and just the feeling of Mando’s hands on you had been exciting enough to make you wet, a fact that was more apparent due to your lack of underwear.

It wasn’t long until Mando was on you again, his touch was more brazen; resting his palm over your ass rather than repeating the glancing touches from before. Reaching back you grabbed at his wrist and pulled his arm forward, hooking your elbow around his to hold him close and keep his wandering touch in place.

Spotting a vender with barrels of grain you steered Mando in her direction, knowing your pantry could always use more rice. This seller was an older woman and knew enough Universal Basic that you were able to discuss prices without much difficulty. As you went back and forth with the vendor, going through the ritual of haggling down to an agreement, you felt Mando’s arm slip away but paid it no mind.

It wasn’t until you turned to Mando to ask if he wanted beans too or not that you noticed he wasn’t there. Frantically you checked over your other shoulder then spun around, searching for the crowd for a glint of his beskar reflecting in the bright sun, but there was nothing, not a single piece of reflective metal in sight. Why would he just walk off without telling you?

Returning to look at the venor, you frantically tried to think how to simply ask for her help. “Please, did you see my—,” Fuck, what do you call Mando? Your boss? Your friend? “The Mandalorian, did you see where he went?” The woman didn’t seem at all concerned by your worried expression as she gestured to the alley around the side of the building she was set up in front of. “Thank you!” You called over your shoulder, already leaving to follow him.

“Mand—,” you started as you rounded the mudbrick corner, halting midstep as you spotted him. Mando was standing face to face with the creep from the bar. You had no clue what they were discussing but it was obvious to you that The Mandalorian was not about to fight him. His posture was relaxed, shoulders rolled back with his thumbs hooked around his belt buckle to rest his arms. If there was the possibility of something happening Mando’s hand would be much closer to his blaster.

Just as you had begun to will your feet to move, Mando and the stranger clasped each other’s forearms and let go, then the stranger then handed something off before turning away. Passing you as he made his exit, the man you had originally thought of as some creep gave you a friendly nod and smile.

“What was that about?” You asked as you stopped next to Mando, still watching the retreating figure over your shoulder.

“The lead I’ve been looking for.” Turning around you noticed what he had been given: a tracking fob with the light still blinking. “Apparently he’s been following me all day, watching. Heard me talking to you, that’s how he knew to be at the cantina.”

“Did you know someone was following you?”

“Of course,” Mando stated, tucking the device away safely into one of his many pouches. Suddenly his on edge behavior all day made a little more sense.

“Well, now that’s all settled,” You began, making to leave the shadowy alley and return to the market. “The lady at the stall was offering an extra half pound of beans for a reduced price if I—”

Mando stopped you mid sentence and stride by a single finger hooked around the rope—keeping you from moving forward in a lazy hold. “We’re not done here,” he admonished, jerking your hips back with a quick tug for added emphasis.

Your body’s reaction to his voice was instant; you could feel a hard pulse of want in your pelvis as he grabbed at your skirt. Bringing your hands to the strap of your bag, you nervously fiddled with it at the center of your chest, fighting the urge to stop his wandering touch even though you were aware of the constant threat of someone walking around the corner.

Mando continued to hold your skirt up with one hand—the fabric balled in a fist he kept resting in the small of your back—as the other dropped. His fingers traced along the ropes, following one from your hips down your thigh before returning back up to grab you ass and moving on to the other thigh. He seemed to be mapping every inch with his touch before he wrapped his fist around the cord at the side of your hip and pulled you to turn around.

Letting out a soft ‘oh’ in surprise you stumbled, falling back slightly until your shoulder blades bumped into the stone wall. “Hold your skirt up,” he ordered, his visor dipping to watch your hands as you grabbed the hem and lifted it like a curtain, unveiling your gift for him. Your cheeks were burning, embarrassed to be doing something so brazen in public, but all you wanted was for him to touch you. You made to press your thighs—the urge to rub them together not even conscious of you—but your skin stung, red and raw from the damp friction, it had begun to chafe. Though you reacted to the pain, separating your legs a little bit more, it sent an exciting tingle through your limbs, adding to the fire burning low in your belly.

With both of his hands available now, Mando started at your waist, trailing over the crisscrossing bindings while his thumbs gently rubbed at the woven design. He came to the loops secured around your outer thighs and his fingers hovered for a moment before hooking underneath.

Gripping the cords, he easily lifted you up off your feet.

Gasping you wavered, off balance and hanging a few inches over the ground. One of your hands dropped your skirt, flying up to brace yourself against his currias as your feet swung, looking for purchase. He held you in the air for a solid moment—the ropes pulling but not biting at your skin due to the harness evenly supporting your weight.

Dropping you to the ground he let out a hum, his hands cupping your hips. “Not bad.”

“Not bad? I think I did pretty well!” You countered, smacking your palm flat against his beskar in protest.

“Your knots need work.” Mando reached to your waist, easily undoing the fastening at the front. “And it’s loose.” Holding the tails in his left fist, he grabbed at the leading lines, giving each a tug hard enough to move your hips as he tightened what he could before finishing with his own knot, pulling three times to secure it. Reaching back to your sides he tested the ropes again, pulling to check they were just right. “If you keep them tight, it won't rub your skin raw as you walk.”

You simpered, biting your lip as you looked away, you had really been hoping he hadn’t noticed, but of course he did—Mando is nothing if not observant.

This time when he gave a hard jerk to spin you around against the wall, you weren’t caught off guard and managed to brace yourself with your hands on the bricks as he pressed up against you. Mando’s hips were flush against your ass, the hard ridge of his cock rubbing along you through the canvas of his trousers.

“Your ass looks so good tied up like this.” Mando’s voice was low, close behind your ear. “All pinched and round, just for me.” His hands traveled around your hips as he leaned back, keeping his erection against you as he squeezed and played with your bottom. You yelped as he gave your left cheek a hard smack, realizing that he had taken his gloves off. He pulled his hips away as his hand slid down between your legs. Letting out something like a whimper at the loss of contact, it quickly morphed into a moan as his thick fingers easily pushed between your lips. You shuddered at the contact, the shock of him finally touching you running up your spine to tingle at the base of your skull as your fingers gripped at the stones before you.

“You like walking around like this don’t you? All bound and teasing me.” Mando’s voice was deep, coming from somewhere in his chest as he rambled. He knew what his dirty talk did to you and you were sure he could feel the effects now—his fingers pressed against your hole as it fluttered. “It’s obvious how much you love this; you’re dripping,” his tone was chiding but light as his touch swirled around your pussy, showing just how wet you had gotten.

You tried to stay still, pressing yourself against the wall as the rough texture of the bricks dragged against your nipples through the thin fabric of your dress. The sound of Mando playing with your drenched heat was audible over the background hum of the market twenty feet away.

Mando knew what he was doing, teasing you by gliding his fingers everywhere but your clit—you were so worked up that you might cum if he did and he realized this. “So wet, and it got all over the ropes. I bet you’re sore.” His hand pulled away, making a notable squelch as his fingers left your pussy to stroke along your bound inner thighs, spreading your slickness even further and making a mess. “And now you have to walk all the way back to the Razor Crest.”

Once he had finished wiping his hand on your legs, you watched, your cheek still pressed against the wall with eyes half dazed glancing over your shoulder, as he pulled his gloves back on.

“No-o,” you whined pathetically in protest once you fully realized what he was saying. “I was so close, you can’t stop.”

Mando gave your ass—which was still pointed out, your back curled so he had easy access to you—another hard slap before pulling your skirt down over your bottom, hiding the rope harness again. “We need to start moving if we want to get back and have time to fuck before the little one wakes up.”

Through you grumbled out an agreement, you apparently still weren’t moving fast enough for Mando, who grabbed your waist and pulled you up straight, pivoting you to face forward as you kept trying to adjust your dress.

He kept his palm flat against you, resting between your shoulder blades, while exiting the alley way. The sudden light of the sun after being in the shade hurt your eyes. Holding up a hand you tried to shield your face and let Mando guide you until you could see again. Squinting, it took a second to realize why he had stopped.

Standing in front of the same stall from before, Mando spoke up saying something you didn’t understand but the woman pulled up a second sack and began filling it with the beans she had been offering you.

Confused you looking up at Mando and found his helmet turned towards you. “You have the credits,” he said evenly, giving away nothing—his voice sounding as unemotional as ever though his hand on your back was stroking small soothing circles into your skin.

“Oh right,” you mumbled, quickly twisting to search in your shoulder bag for the little purse of metal currency. As you handed the money to the woman—who seemed to take in your flushed cheeks and how close The Mandalorian was standing, before giving you a knowing smirk—Mando hoisted the sack of rice and beans that had been tied together over his shoulder. With a nod he said one more thing which the woman repeated back before he was leading you into the crowd of the market.

Each step you took was careful—cautious to avoid irritating your skin further—focused more on your gait than where you were going as Mando led you through the throng of people who parted easily for the armored man.

“You speak the language here?” You finally asked, looking up at his beskar helmet as you furrowed your brow.

“Only a little bit.”

“And you let me make a fool of myself in front of that fruit seller, while you were pinching my ass?” You were peeved with him but you still wondered what his expression was under there—was he wearing some cheeky grin, thoroughly entertained by your frustrations?

Instead his head turned towards you as he simply replied, “It was cute.”

A hint of a laugh came through the vocoder though, you were sure of it.

+++... .... .. -... .- .-. ..+++

Returning to the Razor Crest the first thing you did was flop into a chair by the makeshift dining table that had been cobbled together as the number of residents on the ship grew. Mando was gone without a word, disappearing into the cockpit with a swish of his cape.

You watched as he climbed the ladder until he was out of view before checking your thighs. With gentle taps you tested the patches of red skin, hissing slightly as you brushed against the largest welt. Luckily the damage was not as bad as you feared and would heal quickly. Carefully you ran your finger along the ropes, feeling just how damp and sticky they had gotten from your excitement.

“How’re you feeling?” Mando’s voice spooked you, making you suddenly aware of his presence as your head shot up and your knees snapped closed. He stood nearby, holding a small jar you recognized as the bacta-ointment he uses on burns and rashes.

“Not nearly as bad as I thought, I should be fine.” You gave him a warm smile as he crossed the grated floor, setting the first aid down as he came to stand in front of you.

“Are you good to keep going? I checked on the little womp rat, he’s still snoring.” Mando’s fingers brushed lightly along the edge of your hand, sending tingles up your arm from the briefest touch.

You bit your lip and nodded, looking up at him through your lashes as you replied, “I am,” but before you could even finish the short confirmation he was already grabbing at you—hoisting you onto the wobbly table by your upper arms.

The jar of bacta clattered onto the floor, mindlessly shoved out of the way. You gasped while Mando practically ripped your dress up over your head, his eagerness to see you nude overriding any caution. Trying to find your balance, you braced yourself with both arms behind you, holding you up right as he grabbed your left leg, bringing it up so your ankle rested on his shoulder.

Sitting on the table like that with your legs spread, you were fully on display for Mando. He let out an approving growl, something that vibrated out from behind his ribs as he made quick work of shedding his belt. You felt a low throb, your pussy begging for him to fill you as you watched him undress.

The head of his cock was almost purple when he pulled it out, precum leaking from the tip. With a swipe between your lips that was too quick to be any kind of satisfying, he gathered your juices on his fingers, and spread your slick along his shaft.

“Mando,” you pleaded, dragging out the last syllable of his nickname into a whine. “I need you inside of me, please.”

He didn’t hesitate, done with teasing you. Mando lined himself up with your center and pushed. His cock filled you quickly, stretching your walls to take his girth but finding no resistance in the abundant lubrication.

“By the Maker,” he hissed, his voice husky even with the distortion and static as he paused, holding in place to enjoy the way your pussy hugged him. “How are you so tight and so wet?” You felt another throb at his words, tensing around him as he spoke.

“It’s because your cock is so fu-fucking bi-ig.” You tried to banter, counter his comments but the way his cock pressed inside you—prodding at your very end—got in the way of you forming coherent thoughts.

With a deep groan, Mando started to move, pulling out as you whimpered. He held your waist, fingers gripping at your bindings when he thrusted back into you. Wasting no time, he settled into a brutal pace, fucking you hard with such a convenient handle. You moaned and shuddered, your own hips matching his movements, chasing the tension you could feel building in your core as his cock dragged inside you. You tried to hold yourself up against the table but you were tired and your arms quickly got sore.

“Mando—,” you interrupted, placing a hand on his chest to catch his attention. He halted abruptly, his visor snapping up from where he’d been watching your pussy take him to your eyes. “Flip me over,” you requested, your voice airy but loud enough for him to hear.

His breathing was heavy, little puffs coming from his helmet as he nodded. Pulling again on the ropes he rolled you onto your front, drawing your hips back from the edge before sinking into you with ease. You let out a low moan, the head of his cock bumping into that wonderful spot deep inside of you with every thrust from this angle. He continued, ruthlessly pounding into you without mercy as he held onto the cords around your waist for leverage—there wasn’t much more you could do besides take him, letting him fuck you as he pleased.

Your orgasm was building, you could feel your scalp tighten and your toes curl, your muscles tensing, preparing as you approached the crest. You weren’t aware you were talking but you could hear your voice begging him to keep going, don’t stop. At the encouragement he doubled his efforts, leaning forward so his hand rested next to your head. He was hitting deeper than ever with this position and you felt yourself let go with a wail.

“Fu-uck,” Mando moaned in your ear, the curve of his helmet over his brow dropping to rest against your temple. He went stiff above you and you could feel the way his cock pulsed inside you, spilling his cum as your walls rhythmically clenched tight, convulsing around him.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, silently basking in the afterglow of your shared orgasms while your breathing leveled. Mando’s broad form covered you as he kept you pinned against the table top. He held himself up slightly, balancing on one elbow close enough you could feel his armor brush against your shoulder blades with each inhale.

You kept your eyes closed, enjoying the security of lying beneath his protective body—nothing could hurt your right now with him both above and inside you.

His free hand began to roam, gliding along your ribs before approaching the ropes at your waist. His fingers followed the cords around to your front, coming to rest at the fastened knot just below your belly button.

Without needing to see, Mando was able to nimbly undo the knot, prising the right tails to loosen it’s hold. He continued to tug and pull, unraveling the harness as much as he could before rising from on top of you.

You were disappointed as the cool recycled air of the hull moved in to wrap around you, filling in where he had been. Shivering slightly, you cracked an eye open. Mando knelt behind you—both hands bare—as he carefully unwound the ropes, taking every caution to not irritate your skin more than it already was.

Once your hips were free he tossed the bundle to the side before gathering the bacta-ointment from where it had rolled off to. He stopped for a moment, staring at your thighs and you wondered if he liked the textured imprints the harness had left behind. Scooping up the cream with three fingers, he gently smoothed it across your affected skin. The contact of the cold ointment was shocking at first contact—you gasped and wiggled, but Mando’s wide hand gripped your thigh to keep you still.

He took his time spreading it across your skin—rubbing it in more than you were sure was necessary, covering every inch where the rope had been, not just your inner thighs—before his touch found your pussy again. You couldn’t help but flinch as his fingertips bumped against your clit, still sensitive after the orgasm.

“You’re so wet still,” he intoned, quietly speaking more to himself than you before he picked up his voice. “Close your eyes and don’t open them.”

You knew what this meant and obliged without hesitation, squeezing your eyelids shut before bringing a hand to cover your face as added protection.

You heard an audible hiss and click that you recognized as the release mechanism of his helmet. There was a tingle that ran up your limbs at the sound, an excitement that raced from the tips of your fingers and toes to your core because you knew that noise heralded his lips on you.

His hands grabbed at your ass, parting your cheeks to give him the perfect view of his cum dripping from your hole. Though you were expecting it, you were not prepared. His warm mouth connected with your pussy, immediately lapping at your juices. Flattening his tongue he drew it along your slit, catching every drop he could while brushing at your clit.

You moaned loudly at the stimulation, every touch feeling more vivid with your lack of sight. There was no way for you to watch him, but you could still listen—hearing the obscene slurps as he reveled in your cunt, as if he was doing this more for his pleasure than yours.

Mando’s tongue toyed with your nub, making your knees tremble as that feeling deep in your belly began to quickly bubble up. You called his name as your free hand flew back to grab at him. Sealing his lips around your clit, he sucked while sinking two thick fingers into your blushed hole.

Your fist clenched around his hair, tugging hard, but that only seemed to encourage him. One of his hands pumped into you, his finger curling just right to press down on that spot inside you, as the other gripped your hips—hard enough you were sure it would bruise—holding you against his face while he smothered himself between your lips.

You moaned and writhed against the table before crumpling under his ministrations. Yelling into your palm you came hard and all over his face. He continued to finger you, feeling the way your walls clenched around him as if drawing his digits further into your channel before the contact became all too much. Every brush was over stimulating, your hips involuntarily jerking away from him and into the table’s edge until he pulled back.

Limp against the surface, you couldn’t move—only able to take deep breaths as your heart pounded—your hand still clamped tight over your eyes until you hear Mando give the ok.

You can hear him shifting around, standing up and gathering his helmet before his unmodulated voice commented, “Once you’re all healed, you need to show me how you tied that. I want to see how long you can hang in it.”

///

THANKS FOR READING I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS DAY DREAM

(￣y▽,￣)╭

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[jincherie]

4 o’clock | 03

✩ — pairing: taehyung x reader ✩ — genre: hybrid au, single dad au, light angst, fluff ✩ — rating: sfw ✩ — words: 5.5k+ ✩ — warnings: slight angst ✩ — notes: another impulse update while the inspiration was ripe!! I hope u enjoy it :3 I’ll go over it and fix any mistakes with tense and grammar tomorrow either before or after work, so sorry for those in the meantime! i haven’t written in past tense in a while lol

— prompt: “Why are you crying, It’s only you and me here, Me and you, Oh you”

Even if it weren’t for the two twins that had endeared you so, you were sure you would have eventually been drawn to the beautiful soul of Kim Taehyung, like a planet to its star.

— masterlist || 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 — posted; 14.03.2020

“Ah— no— Haru! Don’t touch that please!”

You sat back, content to watch the chaos as it unfolded; Seokjin had sent you some small reports to write and you were making the most of the moment and finishing them while Jungkook and Namjoon helped watch the twins. It was nearing eight o’clock and the cafe had long since closed, the lights dimmed but still on— Namjoon had been counting the tills in peace until the two hybrid twins had grown curious about what was happening on the other side of the counter and darted around to investigate. Jungkook snickered at the scene as he swept the floors, not being shy about his laughter since Namjoon was too caught up to reprimand him right now.

Ordinarily, you didn’t babysit the twins at the cafe— but you’d brought them to get a hot chocolate since the weather was getting cooler and they’d been behaving so well lately you wanted to give them a treat. You’d already texted Taehyung to ask if they were allowed it, and he’d told you yes. The twins had been ecstatic the second you told them where you were going and why. Apparently they were big fans of Uncle Joon and Uncle Koo, despite spending a majority of their time with you these days.

“But Uncle Joon!” Haru whined, big eyes pointed right at the poor male in question. You did feel a little bad for him; he was just trying to count the tills and finish closing after all. “Wanna help!”

“Yeah!” Hansol chorused, popping up from behind his sister. “Wanna help!”

Namjoon seemed like he was absolutely lost for how to handle the situation, standing crowded with the tills held to his chest, and when he finally caved and sent a pleading look your way you couldn’t help but chuckle. You supposed you could put him out of his misery.

“Hey, cutie cubs! I have something over here that I really, really need your help with! Could you come help me?”

Of course, the answer was yes. At the opportunity to help one of their favourite people ever, their eyes lit up and you stifled a laugh as their tails flicked and whipped excitedly. They were scrambling around the counter within seconds, big eyes directed at you now as they clung to the leg closest to them.

“Yeah, y/n?” Hansol inquired, patting your thigh excitedly. “Need help?”

“I absolutely do!” you confessed dramatically, leaning closer. “It’s something only you two can do.”

They almost vibrated in their excitement, making you think maybe there was a little too much sugar in those hot chocolates. They leaned in closer, Haru whispering with wide eyes, “What is it?”

“Well,” you started, pulling out two pieces of blank paper. “I have something important I’m writing for one of my jobs, and it needs some pictures… but I don’t have any! Do you think you could draw me some pictures to send with it? I don’t know anyone who can do it as well as you…”

The twins gasped, sold immediately on the idea. You’d learned very quickly that of all their hobbies and things they like to do, anything to do with painting, drawing, and colouring— they liked that the most. Eagerly, they climbed onto the free seats at the table where you were perched, looking at you obediently and patiently. Their ears betrayed their excitement though, flicking and twitching restlessly. You passed them a piece of paper each and let them choose one of the markers from your pencil case. Haru chose blue, while her brother went for a light green.

“What do we draw?” she asked after a moment, marker looking very oversized in her tiny hand. To her credit, she had it in an expert grip.

“Anything you want,” you answered immediately, unable to help but laugh at their excited gasps.

“Weally?!” In his glee Hansol’s ‘r’ glided into a ‘w’ sound even more than usual and you almost clutched your chest in fear that you had a literal heart attack. They’re so cute, they’re so cute it’s over for me!

“Yup!” you nodded, waving your hand for them to go ahead and do whatever they want. They didn’t need to be told twice; they launched into their efforts, markers meeting paper eagerly. You could have sat and watched them all night, so endeared by the way their tongues stuck out in concentration and their ears flicked every so often. Unfortunately, you still had a report to finish and so begrudgingly you returned to that as they scribbled artfully across the pages, having granted Namjoon time to escape to the staff room and for Jungkook to grab the mop and bucket and begin sanitising the floor.

Like that, the cafe settled into a nice ambiance— the radio still played soft tunes across the store and the only out of place noises came when one of the twins dropped a marker or Jungkook bumped into a table or chair due to his shapely rump.

It lasted a good five minutes, and you suspected it would have lasted longer if Namjoon’s phone didn’t start ringing on the counter. The twins barely spared it a glance before returning to their works— man, you chose the distraction well, huh. There was the slight sound of cluttering and something falling in the direction of the backroom before Namjoon emerged with tousled hair and wide eyes, a note sticking to his cheek as he looked around hurriedly for his phone.

“Who on earth…” he muttered to himself as he searched; you pointed to your cheek when he caught your eye and he reached up to remove the note, appearing sheepish. It didn’t take him long to find the phone after that, hurrying to pick it up before passing it over to you on the bench. “Y/n, can you answer that? I think I flicked a coin in the sink and I don’t know if it went down the drain or not— thanks!”

Bewildered, you hurriedly scrambled to the counter, grabbing his phone and seeing that he’d already answered the call and just left it running. You didn’t have time to see who was on the other end before you brought it to your ear, not wanting to leave them hanging any longer than they already had been.

“Hello?” you said, sounding somewhat hesitant. Any caution you might have had was quickly thrown to the wind when a familiar dulcet tone greeted you from the other end, though.

“Wh— y/n?” Taehyung sounded surprised to hear your voice, and you didn’t blame him considering he’d called Namjoon’s phone. “Uh, hello. But, um… why…”

“Hey, Mr. Kim!” The change in your attitude was instant, something fluttering in your abdomen at the knowledge of who you were talking to. “Sorry to surprise you, but Namjoon is counting the tills and kind of dumped his phone on me. Is everything okay? Did you want to talk to the twins?”

Taehyung made a sound of understanding before hurrying to reassure you, “Ah, no! No, that’s okay, I’ll see them soon anyway. Um, I was actually calling because…”

He faded off for a moment, an awkward tone slipping into his voice when he resumed. “Um, all the buses near my work were cancelled because of maintenance or something and, um… I don’t really have a way to get home… so I was just…”

It took barely a second for you to realise what he was getting at. “Ah, you need someone to pick you up? No problem! I’m with the twins at the cafe right now, so I can come pick you up while Joon and Jungkook watch them for a few minutes if you’d like!”

The hybrid on the other end seemed flustered at your easy agreement and instant offer.

“I, um… that’s fine, if that’s not too much trouble? I’m sorry to be bothering you— I’ll pay y—”

“Nope, it’s okay!” you were quick to reassure him, making sure he knew that you didn’t expect compensation just for being a decent person. “Don’t even think of paying me extra, I don’t mind at all! Just text me the address and I’ll be there as soon as possible!”

The line was silent for a few moments before Taehyung spoke once more, sounding slightly choked up. “Thank you, y/n.”

“No problem,” you assured, saying goodbye before hanging up and placing Namjoon’s phone down. A few moments later your own buzzed in your pocket, most likely with the address you’d requested.

Ducking into the backroom, you let Namjoon know what the call was about and he easily agreed to watch the kids while you went to pick up their dad. Once you secured his blessing, you returned to the main area to see Jungkook currently being subjected to the twins and their marker, scribbles and drawings beginning to make their ways up his forearms. Hansol had managed to land the arm that already had some tattoos on it and was having the time of his life colouring them in. As soon as he saw you, he pointed excitedly, “Look, y/n! Uncle Koo’s a colouring book!”

The male in question seemed absolutely endeared by the twins and of course easily agreed to continue watching them while you went to pick up Taehyung. The twins were excited to see their dad again soon and so let you go in peace when you told them what was happening.

Fifteen minutes later found you on the road and nearing the destination that Taehyung had texted you. Apparently it wasn’t at his actual workplace, since there weren’t any bus stops there and he usually had to walk twenty minutes to the nearest one, but it was still in the general area. You were thankful that you’d driven the twins to the cafe instead of walking earlier, since it meant your car was already outside and waiting. You were also thankful one of your friends had bullied you into cleaning it the other day because you knew you’d be embarrassed as hell if Taehyung climbed in and found all the bueno bar wrappers that had been on the floor of the passenger side. What could you say? You had an addiction.

As the GPS on your phone told you that you were growing closer, you began to scan the streets for the golden-haired male in question. It didn’t take you long to spot him, because even in the dark he stood out as a spot of beauty in his surroundings, hair gleaming flaxen in the streetlights. He was only in a white button-down and slacks, but still he looked incredibly good. Honestly, if you saw an image of him you would have sworn up and down that he was a model. The flick of his ears as you neared the curb where he stood told you that he’d heard you from afar, but he waited until you were alongside him to shoot you a sheepish smile.

He was somewhat shy as he climbed in, tentative in his movements as he placed his bag down by his feet and shut the door, resting his hands in his lap. “Thank you,” he murmured again, low tone making your heart skip a beat. What was it about him that seemed to make you so… giddy?

“It’s not a problem!” you assured him again, making sure he caught your smile before you set the destination in your phone and turned to the road; you knew vaguely where you were, but you didn’t travel often to this part of town so you’d need a little bit of guidance to get back to Namjoon’s cafe. It was too dark to tell for sure, but you could have sworn the hybrid’s cheeks flushed slightly.

You didn’t think that the silence would have been all that awkward, but you didn’t want to really risk it—there was still a bit of distance between the two of you, understandably. He was basically your employer right now. But you couldn’t deny the urge sparking to life deep inside you that pushed you to get a bit closer to him. Inexplicably, it was something you wanted.

“When I left, the twins were having the time of their lives,” you informed him, unable to keep the smile from your voice. Your eyes were on the road but you caught his head lifting in your peripheral. “Originally I had them drawing something on paper, but when I came back they’d turned Jungkook into a canvas and discovered his tattoos. I think they were overjoyed to have a living colouring book.”

At your words, Taehyung couldn’t help the laugh that tumbled from his throat at his kids’ antics. “They love colouring,” he murmured in response, letting his head fall back against the headrest. Your brief glance over reveals his form, slumped slightly and wrought with exhaustion. A shard of concern wriggles its way into your chest, unsettling you slightly. Was he eating enough? Sleeping enough? You felt so bad for him that you wished you could lift every single worry from his shoulders and give the world to him on a silver platter. His twins deserved it, and so did he. You weren’t sure exactly when, in the past month or so of looking after his kids, that such feelings had had time to bloom, but they had. “I wish I could get them more things, since they go through materials so fast, but… paints are getting more and more expensive these days.”

You hummed, trying not to let the sadness currently permeating your chest to show on your face. “That’s true,” you responded softly. “I imagine they’d go through paints and markers faster than you can blink.”

Taehyung chuckled, the sound soft and low, eyes closed as he sank into the seat. “Yep. I have boxes full of drawings at home. They refuse to part with any of them.”

It was your turn to laugh now, able to imagine it all too easily. “I think they’d never talk to me again if I ever lost the ones they gave me.”

Soft melodies drifted through the car as you drove, your phone’s playlist still on the one you used to lull the twins to sleep. Endearingly enough, it seemed to be working wonders for their father, too. Every time you glimpsed over, it seemed like he was that bit closer to completely dozing off next to you. You were sure he’d be embarrassed about it later, but you honestly didn’t mind. It relieved you a bit to know he was getting at least a little bit of rest.

Well, he was until a low, rumbling sound echoed in the small space. You bit your lip to contain the laugh that attempted to bubble in your throat, but were unable to help the glance you gave to the side. Taehyung looked mortified, gaze averted out the window and cheeks red as his hand rested over his stomach, as though to muffle it should it make any further incriminating noises. His tail curled beside him in embarrassment.

“Well, I suppose that’s good timing,” you said, unable to keep the smile from your voice. “Are you in the mood for a noodle dish or something soupy? Or rice? I was gonna stop by somewhere and grab something for dinner anyway.”

Taehyung’s hands quickly rose, waving awkwardly. “Oh, no, it’s okay— we can just—”

You hummed, pinning him with a look as the car drew to a stop at a set of traffic lights. “Have you eaten today?”

He might have been embarrassed, but you could tell he wouldn’t be able to lie to you. You were proven right when he simply blushed, averting his gaze with his ears angling down.

“It’s okay,” you said, reaching to pat his leg before you had to return your hand to the gearstick. “I haven’t had dinner yet either, and we can grab something to take back for the twins too! Is there anywhere you’d like to go in particular?”

Perhaps it was the hunger, but he didn’t take long to give in and acquiesce to your gentle nudging. His voice was soft when it brushed your ears in response. “I don’t mind, anywhere is good.”

You pondered his words for a moment before speaking what came to mind, “I think I know a place that you’ll like.”

— x — x —

“Woah.”

You smiled at the wonderment in Taehyung’s voice, glancing over to see him looking around in awe. You’d decided to take him to your favourite fusion restaurant, since you remembered that they actually made that dish that he liked— japchae?— and it seemed you’d made the right choice. The restaurant was underground, and the ceiling sprinkled with woven trains of fairy lights. The walls of booths and along the tables were somewhat porus and absolutely covered in layers upon layers of scribbles and drawings from people who had visited over the years. A bowl of markers rested by the door and you were sure to grab one on the way past.

One of the table staff saw you and grinned, making her way over immediately. Her gaze didn’t even linger on Taehyung as it swept over him, something you appreciated.

“Y/n!” she burst, moving forward to bring you in for a quick hug. “It’s been a while! I feel like I haven’t seen you in years.”

You rolled your eyes, blushing slightly. “It’s only been like, a week, Jihyo. What, you weren’t there when I ordered last time?”

“I had placement,” she said, sighing dramatically. “We can’t all finish the semester on time, y/n.”

You laughed in response, and the brunette was quick to get back on track. “Table for two? In the usual spot?”

“Yes please!” you answered with a smile, feeling Taehyung shift in confusion behind you. You wonder if he thought that you were only coming for take away. Originally you were, but as you entered the restaurant you’d read a text from Jungkook saying that they’d taken to twins back to your house, so you felt less pressed to get there sooner.

The two of you follow Jihyo towards the back of the establishment, taking a seat when she gestures to do so in the booth furthest from the front and closer to the kitchens. She left you with menus and told you to press the button when you were ready to order.

“We’re eating here?”

You looked up to catch Taehyung’s gaze, and the expression you find there wasn’t upset or antsy, more confused. It occurred to you a moment later that maybe you should have asked for his opinion before deciding all on your own.

“Oh… Sorry, Mr. Kim.” Your cheeks heated in embarrassment at your own audacity. “I should have asked you— I just got a text from Jungkook saying they took the twins to my place so I figured we didn’t have to rush and could relax a bit. Would you like to get takeaway instead…?”

At your explanation, the male relaxed in his seat, shoulders releasing the small amount of tension they’d held. “No, it’s okay. And you can call me Taehyung, you know. I don’t think you’re that much younger than me, actually.”

Your head tilted in surprise as your hands opened the menu automatically. “Wait, how old are you?”

Taehyung hummed, opening his own menu and looking down, visibly growing happier at the sight of some of the dishes. “Twenty-four,” he answered distractedly, finger trailing over number 37 on the menu. “Are the pancakes good? I wonder if the twins would like them…”

It took all your willpower to snap your mouth closed and swallow your shock— twenty-four?! That’s so young! It wasn’t like he looked old, but to have kids… you thought that he was late-twenties or early-thirties and had just aged really well. You were left reeling at the fact he really wasn’t all that much older than you at all.

It made you even sadder, actually, as you realised that he must have been only twenty-one or so when the twins had first come into his life. It can’t have been easy, especially if the situation was as you suspected with the twins’ mother.

“Wow, you’re young,” you couldn’t stop it from rolling off your tongue, and coughed before continuing, ignoring his amused look. “And they are! I like both the spring onion and the kimchi one. For the twins though, they might like the spring onion one better. I’ll get some to take back to them so they can try it, actually. Maybe some of the chicken too… I’m craving chicken.”

You’d started off talking directly to him, but as you went on you had ended up talking more to yourself. You missed the soft smile that Taehyung sent your way. It was silent as the two of you ruminated over what to order, and neither of you spoke until it was time to order and the waitress (not Jihyo this time, unfortunately) was walking away with your meal ticket and the menus.

“Thank you.”

It caught you by surprise, his sudden words. You looked to him with wide eyes, mid-sip of your water, and blinked in confusion. He chuckled at the sight you presented before leaning back in the booth, taking the permanent marker into his grasp and fiddling with it between his fingers. You continued your sip, waiting for him to continue in his own time. You didn’t have to wait too long.

“For caring so much about Hansol and Haru,” he explained, eyes flicking to the side before rising to meet yours. His ears were lowered slightly, bashful, as he continued. “It means a lot to me, and I know that it means a lot to them. They…”

He cleared his throat, reaching for his own cup of water. He still looked exhausted, but the smell of food in the air had livened him considerably since you entered. “They’ve never really said anything, or asked about their mother, and I don’t know for sure whether they have put you in that role… but I’m glad they have someone else that they can trust and feel safe with. I know whenever I leave them with you that they’ll be okay, and I don’t have to worry, because you always spoil them and they’re always happy. So thank you, for that.”

You blinked, surprised at the sudden sting to your eyes. Flustered, you waved your hand at him, blinking rapidly to ward away the tears. “You should warn a girl before you spring something heartfelt like that on her, Mr. K— Taehyung. I might cry and then our food will be ruined.”

He was still for a second before your words sank in and he laughed, tipping his head back from the body of it. It was a joyous sound, and it made your heart sing to hear it— after the mushy way his earlier words had made you feel, you didn’t know if you were in a good place to handle it. You waited until he calmed to continue, wanting to respond properly now your thoughts were in order.

“But you’re more than welcome, you know.” His eyes met yours as you spoke, fingers fiddling with the marker. “Those two are so beautiful, Taehyung. I can see you give them everything and they really deserve it. I’ll have you know that if I could and they asked for it, I’d climb up and pluck every star out of the sky just for them. Everything I do for them is really the least I can do. I’ll always care for those two, even if you were to move away and forget all about me.”

He snorted at that last part, but you could tell he was touched from the tender look in his eyes. “Don’t worry, that’s not happening any time soon.“

A few moments of silence followed his words, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, and it was soon broken by the arrival of some of your meal. Your mouth started salivating the second your plate touched the table, but you held off until you asked the waitress for some plastic containers and she brought them back for you. Once you’d put some of the food aside for the twins, you happily dug in to the meat dish you’d ordered.

You didn’t catch Taehyung’s fond look as you put some food aside, but you did hear it when, moments later, he let out a soft sound that echoed surprisingly like a moan. Your head shot up and he blushed bright red, cheeks so full of food he looked more like a chipmunk than a lion. He chewed and swallowed the majority of it down before offering a sheepish explanation, “Sorry, it just tastes so good… it’s been so long since I had bulgogi.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, almost choking on your own mouthful. You didn’t say anything though, mind wandering to other things— namely, the mention of the twins mother. You wanted to know so badly what the situation was, but you were also painfully aware it was absolutely not your place to ask. But at the same time, the twins were young, and what were you meant to do if they ask difficult questions about their mother as children tend to do? You were torn, but you didn’t realise the extent to which your thoughts were playing across your face.

“You want to know about their mother.”

Freezing, you shot him a guilty look, mouth full of spring onion pancake. You feared that you’d look over and see an upset expression on his handsome face, but it was surprisingly neutral— if anything, he seemed amused at the mess you were making as you struggled to keep the food in your mouth.

“It’s okay,” he chuckled, taking a bite of his meal and humming at the flavour. “It’s only natural to wonder since you haven’t seen her. It’s not hard to tell that she’s not around.”

You finally managed to swallow the entire contents in your mouth, shooting him a look of apology. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to say anything if it’s painful…”

The hybrid shrugged, pushing the food in his bowl around with his chopsticks. “It’s okay. It’s been three years, the wound is old…” He picked out a piece of beef, munching it before continuing. “Their mother was another lion hybrid— I met her in an adoption shelter we’d both ended up in until we were of the legal age that we could leave. She was my first love. I thought the world of her. It wasn’t planned, when she got pregnant. She didn’t really want the a baby but, well… you know how it is.”

Something sharp stabbed in your chest at his words, your expression softening. Hybrids still faced a lot of discrimination in more ways than one, and they didn’t have access to all the same types of resources that humans often took for granted. So if she’d wanted to abort the pregnancy, you doubt she would have been able to…Taehyung cleared his throat, continuing.

“When she became pregnant, and after she had the twins, it became clear that she wasn’t really the woman I fell in love with… When I saw those two, my beautiful little cubs, and held them in my arms— I knew I would love them for the rest of my life. But she… it wasn’t a sentiment we shared. She grew cold and fought with me, saying I’d ruined her life. And then one day she left, before they’d even been weened. I haven’t seen or spoken to her since.”

“I’m so sorry…” it was all you could think to say, your heart aching for him. You couldn’t imagine the amount of betrayal that must have felt like, the hurt that would have resulted. And on top of it, how difficult it must have been to be on his own from the very beginning.

He wrinkled his nose, sniffling slightly before shooting you a reassuring look. He waved his hand through the air, returning to the meal more heartily. “Don’t be— like I said, the wound is old. Besides, I thought you should know since you spend so much time with the twins. They’re curious, and they’re kids… I wouldn’t want to put you in an uncomfortable situation if they asked something difficult.”

“I appreciate that,” you said, sectioning off another piece of pancake to put in your mouth. Your thoughts ran a mile a minute at the information he’d given you, but you did your best to push them to the backburner for now— you didn’t take him out and force food down his throat for the sake of hearing about his partner. “I am still sorry, though… It seems like a lot of things have happened to you that you don’t deserve.”

“That’s how it always is,” Taehyung shrugged, nonchalant. Something about how accepting he was of his own misfortune bothered you— he shouldn’t have had to be accepting of the way the world has treated him like dirt. You allowed your eyes to wash over him, taking in the slight bags under his eyes and the somewhat pallid quality to his skin. In that moment, you decided to do whatever you could to help him— both for him, and the twins. If it meant you continued sending home little care packages with the twins, then so be it.

Despite the somewhat depressing start the conversation had, it soon melded into more comfortable, relaxed topics. Taehyung seemed interested to know a bit more about you, apparently wanting to corroborate the many things his twins reported back to him with facts straight from the source itself— you. He asked about your schooling, what you wanted to do— eventually he allowed himself to verify some of the things the twins apparently told him, like if you really had a giant gudetama plushie in the corner of your bedroom. You’d blushed at that one, especially considering that it was true. In turn, you’d gone ahead and asked him about some of the things the twins had told you— like if he really didn’t like mint chocolate chip icecream, and if all the older ladies in the building really pinched his cheek and called him handsome every time they saw him.

At that he had cleared his throat and blushed too, before quietly admitting it was true. It seemed the twins were very good at digging up dirt on the both of you.

You didn’t linger in the restaurant all that long, making your way up to the counter after you’d eaten your fill. The conversation continued right up until you reached the register, at which point Taehyung promptly froze. You turned, in the middle of pulling your card out, and caught him looking with white eyes at the total, like he’d completely forgotten that he’d have to pay at the end of it. It wasn’t hard to guess the direction that his thoughts had gone, and when Jihyo read out your total for the table you left it barely a second before moving.

“Boop!” you said, smacking your card on the reader and relishing in the confirmation beep that sounded a second later. “Paid!”

Taehyung looked at you with wide eyes, hand coming to grip your sleeve. “Y/n, that was so much! You didn’t have to—”

“It’s okay, I got paid today,” you smiled at him, holding up the bag of takeaway containers before passing them to him. “Plus, it wasn’t just our meals— now we have some food to take back for the others, too!”

You were oblivious to the fond, amused smile Jihyo was sending your way, especially since she slapped a brighter one on when you faced her. “I’m glad you two enjoyed yourselves! I’ll see you next time y/n, make sure you bring him too! The chefs apparently liked watching his expressions as he enjoyed the food.”

You laughed, bringing your arm up in a mock salute as Taehyung blushed red beside you, risking a sheepish look back at the kitchen. Two chefs were peeking out the doorway, and waved when they saw him looking. Embarrassed, he tugged your sleeve and began moving towards the door, urging you to leave. You couldn’t help the laughter that escaped you on the way out, waving to Jihyo as you went and promising you’d be back soon.

— x —

Later, when Taehyung was laying in his own bed after Namjoon had dropped him home, the twins cuddled next to him — they’d been so ecstatic at the special food they’d gotten that they hadn’t left his side all night, clinging to him like never before— he couldn’t help but reflect once more on the changes in his life, however big or subtle. The most noticeable was you, and oddly enough, when he thought of you now, gratitude wasn’t the only feeling swirling in his chest like it had been before. There was something else there, something new and warm and even though he didn’t look any closer at it, scared to see its name, it comforted him all the way to sleep, sending him off to cozy dreams of the sun, the twins, and you.

a/n: pls let me know what u think and whether u enjoyed it by liking and rbing!!! it helps me know i’m doing somthing right!!! also feel free to support me on my kofi and send me an ask or too with what u think !!!1 thank u for reading and i love you!!! <3 <3

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