#even if it leaves you with Many Layers

[qalrey]

🍭

[ganondoodle]

(idk if anyone wants to keep hearing my opinions on totk book stuff but-)

apparently it says that rauru DID have kids, multiple even, which yeah... is kinda necessary for zelda to even be connected to them so much so that sonia can SENSE a blood connection (which, even with all the excuses with magic, is just a little too far for me to suspend my disbelief bc its over, OVER, ten thousand years worth of generations that seperate her from them that one lil touch of the hand can sense that (feels more like an attempt to make you care about them or .. see them as zeldas "better" parents just bc they exchange a few nice words, i never got the feeling they were 'better' parents and its also kinda disrespectful to her actual parents, like sure rhoam wasnt the best but i wouldnt call rauru better just bc he was polite)- i could see maybe the light power of hylia or sth but since its the coolest dude that ever lived rauru now that had it which still doesnt make sense and makes me unreasonably annoyed and she can sense BOTH of their powers in her? nah) the fact theres NOTHING about them in the game itself is just so ... no way they planned any of this

i dont think theres anything they can do or say that wont make be believe they either

are making it up alla 'fix it in post' mentality trying to hastily explain stuff the game never bothers to do to try and appease fans or let it appear as if they thought about it at all

something went really REALLY wrong during development, which kinda seems likely given how the game turned out (im sorry i cannot let go, its not just the writing, the game design too and how little was changed in the map while being so damn expensive, i dont know how people dont feel scammed q_q)

given that they (allegedly) spent the last entire year of development on polish (where??? where????? huh??? like it would make it more understandable (EXCEPT for the price) if there was alot of trouble, which was also bc it got delayed and ... turned out like this, but they dont want to say it, especially given their reputation, with that quote i have heard way too many times 'a delayed game blah blah') i just??

are they just gonna go and do it like they did with kashiwa (kass)? "they uuuh where flying around the whole time ony cool sonau tech maschines, you just dont see or hear from them ooooorrr they were uuuuh out of the country at the time" (sending invitations to other continents to join their glorious kingdom ;) )

(bet they are also gonna say they did all the stuff like ... moving the shrines around (lol?) and lifting the islands up into the sky- which is still weird bc ... didnt they also say they were living in the sky before coming to the surface?? so where?? did they park all their islands on the surface and the mystery kids had the keys so they had to repark them back into the sky after they returned off camera?? xD also why are the islands so different as an environment if they where from the surface? like even the STONE up there is different- and if they were first in the sky then on the surface and the nback in the sky .. why is there not a single yellow tree or grass in the past- you cant really argue that it changed bc they were up there so long bc .. nothing else changed, the suddendly and totally always there sonau buildings are largely in prime condition, only some slightly moldy, and what we see of the glorious past looks barely any different from the present, aside from like ... some standard trees shuffled, no castle yet and that glowy uwu filter DESPITE that stupidly long time frame between it)

[moongothic]

So I'm confused about something. There was a cover story about Ms Goldenweek and other Baroque works agents breaking Crocodile out of prison but he just. Told them no? And stayed there with Mr 1 and Mr 2? I don't get why he wanted to go to Impel Down just to break out when he had the chance

I can't tell you 100% why Crocodile chose to stay in prison and go to Impel Down, but my best guess really is that he was just...

Taking the L with grace

More specifically. Crocodile had lost everything. I think deep inside he might've been literally too depressed to want to go free again.

Like he does literally say that. He gave up.

He had been building his reputation as "the Hero of Alabasta" for at least 10 years at this point. He had built not just a criminal organization that he had been running for four years, but also he had been running legal business stuff (like his casino) for probably longer than that. A decade's worth of work and effort to take over a country, and most importantly, get away with it. The reason he had orchestrated that whole rebellion was so that the rebels and the royal family could "take each other out", leaving the country wide open for a World Government Official such as himself to take up. The reason Baroque Works was doing this all in secret was so that the WG never found out, otherwise they wouldn't have let him have Alabasta.

But indeed, his plans were foiled by a kid in flipflops in less than 24 hours, just at the final moment before Crocodile would win. He lost everything. And the World Government found out about what he had been planning.

So even if he escaped from that prison with his former agents, what was he going to do?

He wouldn't be able to take over Alabasta anymore because he did not have manpower (as he had lost all his goons), and having lost his financial empire he wouldn't be able to build a new army any time soon. And even if he did, now that they knew what he had done the people of Alabasta would not accept him as their new king, even if he personally assasinated Cobra and the entire family. Not to mention, the WG finding out about his plans meant that they had every fucking reason to try and stop Crocodile if he did as much as set foot on that island again. By which I mean, they could launch a Buster Call on his ass. Send all the fucking Admirals after him. And so, even if Crocodile still believed Pluton was somewhere in Alabasta and that he just had to comb through the entire desert to find it... Between the Alabastan people and the WG in the way, finding Pluton would not be easy. Especially when Robin wouldn't even be there to just point him directly to it. It could take years, if not decades, while fighting off the WG by himself. And that's while assuming Pluton was somewhere in Alabasta. Like WE the readers now know Pluton is in Wano, but since Robin didn't tell him that. All Robin said was that the Poneglyph "didn't mention the weapon", and Cobra's reaction to the name merely proved the weapon's existence in Crocodile's mind. But surely, because Crocodile is a smart young man, he'd understand there was a risk that Pluton could exist, but just not be in Alabasta, right? Like that would be a possibility too, right?

I think this is why Crocodile has given up on Alabasta. He had one opportunity at seizing the country, and he failed. And without Robin, he could spend the rest of his life combing through a haystack for a needle when there's no needle, and he'd have no idea. I think is why he explicitly says in Impel Down he no longer has "interest in that country". He won't be able to pull off another stunt like this, ever.

And that leads us back to "why not escape earlier and avoid going to Impel Down to begin with". Thanks to his status as a Shichibukai, Crocodile hasn't been on the run from the WG for like two decades. And the past 10 or so years he has seemingly lived a life of luxury in his funny little casino. But now, having lost everything, he'd be back on the run. And because he's a world famous former "hero of the people", there would be nowhere he'd be able to go where people would not recognize him and send the marines after him. So he'd be on the run, for the rest of his life or until he'd get capture again. And mind you, the guy does not trust anyone, so he'd be on the run alone. Without any purpose or goal.

And you might be thinking, "Daz and the rest of BW was still there!", yeah, arguably true. But at this point Crocodile had no reason to trust any of them. Like personally, I think the reason Crocodile ended up taking a liking to Daz was BECAUSE he chose to follow him to Impel Down when he really did not have to. Like Daz showed an unusual level of loyalty to Crocodile, and I think Crocodile recognized that. That's why Daz is still with Croc, post-timeskip. But Miss Goldenweek and co? Crocodile had no reason to believe they wouldn't betray him if given a chance and a reason. And if the WG would come chasing his ass, they'd have plenty of reason to try and betray Croc (handing Crocodile over to spare their own lives). Not to mention, when they come release their former boss from jail, what did Miss Goldenweek say?

"Let's do Baroque Works again"

As I've already explained in detail, I think we might know why Crocodile wasn't interested in being Baroque Works' "boss" again.

So. Yeah. If in Crocodile's mind he'd be on the run from the Government for the first time in two decades all alone, in a situation where rebuilding what he had before would be bloody hard if not downright impossible, and he wouldn't be able to obtain what he had spent the last decade working for regardless...

Taking the L and just going to prison might've been the easier option

[greyeyedmonster-18]

(anyway, find it funny when people mention me as being in their “circle” or what have you, when i know damn well i talk to four people on this thing)

[deadrlngers]

what if violante talked gale out of the whole ascension to godhood thing. and what if she died at the end of it all. and what if gale, crushed by the insurmountable grief, decided to use the crown. and what if he brought her back from the lands of deads. and what if violante is insanely angered with him for that but also fond of that feeling that brought him to defile the laws of nature. and what if she's forever bound to him now, and she hates him but she loves him and it's going to be eternal

[ladymacbeths]

Macbethposting Friday anyway I am thinking about the come you spirits etc etc and just… the implications of it all. Lady Macbeth’s motivations to do the Thing aka kill Duncan aka have Macbeth be king aka be queen herself are never cleared up and only there to be built with clues. But in any case— whether self-serving or altruistic (wanting it for Macbeth not herself)— it’s something extreme.

Extreme enough to make her want to rid herself of her very nature to achieve it. She’s insane 2 me bc she’s self-aware but not self-aware enough to know that going against who she really is will end terribly. But thing is that she Knows that she, as she is, with the qualities she has Now, won’t be able to do it. She’s desperate enough to say “okay, make me able to do it then. Rid me of my nature. Make it impossible for me to prevent myself.”

Like, the Thing that makes her do it, whatever it is, has to be big enough to get her to That Level and I fear there’s too little talk of… what it could be that also makes sense.

[munamania]

something on my mind rn. as you all know i’m a lesbian. applause from the audience. and sometimes it just gets to be like annoying when. well. so i have at least A friend who’s asked me several times over ‘so you don’t have Any attraction to men? like at all?’ and i know they’re not being like malicious but you know. that answer has not changed since like seventh grade. and in the same vein it just feels aggravating when i have the nerve to say Oh i think she seems like a lesbian. that’s giving dyke. etc. and to be met with ‘umm well maybe she actually does like men.’ like. first of all in personal conversations if i’m just saying shit chances are i’m just going off of patterns from my own life or other lesbians i know. i’m not here for Bi Erasure and i promise you in this context your attraction to men is not ever invalidated as much as my lack of it. esp in college with so many people talking about their dating/app experiences and etc it’s 99.9999% of the time about men and i just Can’t participate in that conversation which is yk not the end of the world but a bit isolating and even if i do contribute anything it just feels like… a slight Stiffening like. and even just getting brushed off with Well yeah but you’re not even into guys. like real! i still have eyes though. and esp when my attraction isn’t being celebrated and engaged with in the way theirs is it’s just really fucking lonely! and maybe that’s a gross inner voice of insecurity that i’m projecting onto them but like you must get what i mean right. there’s still this odd air specifically around people who Do Not engage with men at all. and if i do make any kind of joke or comment abt someone maybe just Not being into guys i’m made into the asshole who’s invalidating their experiences etc when like. i’m just saying shit man idk. and it’s like many of these people are bi and claim attraction to women but get so like uncomfortable actually talking about it. i don’t think i’m the one with problems! i think there’s still some internalized shit there. you know. anyway all this to say as much as we’ve had the conversation of invalidating bi attraction some of you need to think about not treating gay attraction as this secondary awkward weird elephant in the room. and on a more personal note on top of the Everything that was getting under my skin last night this was just a cherry on top where i was feeling soo… misunderstood and invalidated lol even tho again i largely think those friends were being very supportive and kind to me. this is just one thing i was like. 😐

[icewindandboringhorror]

this is not the exact one I watched but I saw one of these "dish scape" things at someone's house who actually has TV (like they pay for dish/cable instead of just watching stuff online) and I think they're meant to be relaxing atmospheric stuff that you mostly ignore, but I sat there for 35 minutes watching absolutely engrossed.. further proof that I genuinely think my brain is incapable of experiencing boredom lol..

[yeleltaan]

“Flesh.”

Down to her haunches, poised as a beartrap, the assassin slips a portion of dried meat past her lips, and chews thoughtfully before speaking again.

“Hunger, you possess. I know this for certain; you hunt for knowledge to feed upon, after all. You collect facts. You devour stories. But, and you’ll forgive the directness, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen your appetite sway towards flesh. You don’t stare at naked shoulder blades, your throat doesn’t parch at a bared thigh… I don't recall ever hearing you comment on the beauty of all that is bodily, as a matter of fact. I’m curious: is it just because the human form is unappealing to you, blood of dragons? Or the act itself simply not on the list of your desires? I do not judge.”

She angles her wrist in his direction.

“Dried meat?”

Before all else she utters the word, and as is the case every time Heysel presents him with another topic, Cayin puts his reflections aside to focus on what she may share. She imbues his interest in learning, something he would have deemed wholly unremarkable, with a lyricism that feeds the pride- but even with this in mind the mention of appetite, hunger and flesh briefly mislead him into a literal interpretation, one that would have swiftly led to confusion if she didn’t chose to elaborate. She does, and as the true meaning of her inquiry sets in, his gaze begins to lower following an invisible path to the grass at his side. Verdant strands are caught between his fingers as the latter squeeze and slide along their rising shape. An inhale signals for his response, but all air in his lungs fails to find the words to carry it in time, and so he only breathes out again, deep in the thought.

Think before you speak, one of those small wisdoms he tries to incorporate into his habits. But for some reason this time the deafening silence of his indecision rings his ears with a strange discomfort. His hands move to settle on his robe again, grasping and folding handfuls of it while his arms remain crossed loosely over his lap. Quiet breeds expectation, and today it is unwelcome, which is why he opts to begin prematurely, like one walks into the blinding mist hoping each step will reveal enough to take the next.

“…It’s not. I don’t dislike it.” It appeared strange to him once, but then so did the trees, the rivers and rocks and castles, sands, fields, clouds and even lights, nearly every piece of the world you could fathom, for it was new, and so were the eyes that looked upon them. In time it all fit into place more comfortably, including the physique of man and its many derivatives.  Some such sights he’s revisited through his memories, others he’s built solely from the foundation of an artist’s depiction. Harmonic, grotesque, balanced in its small asymmetries, each piece presumably there for a purpose. Worth picturing again sometime, maybe.

But that’s not what he feels when he sees them up close. Because in the truth of the moment, the first thing he catches is an absence of fur, or at least any dense enough to impede the path of his teeth where it matters. Then, an absence of scales- instead the thin, easily pierced skin that wraps around fat, muscle and cartilage. Shapes alluding to the bones within, connected by tendons, guarding only some of their organs. Everywhere, at every turn, his eyes look first to survival.

The same observations must come naturally to her, a master of her craft. Surely she knows these connections intimately by now, how to undo them without waste, how to bring about the collapse of the whole human structure, at times without even the need to sever. Somehow, it doesn’t seem to him like that’s stopped her from retaining a different paradigm of appreciation for it. Not that he’s ever witnessed the signs of it on her face.

 “It’s just… there’s much else to stare at. Much to look out for.” Things he truly needs for himself, and those he needs to keep away. Those that may make a difference when he’s in need of taking something else. “…I don’t know.”

When she offers the meal right in front of him, it all seems so much more obvious. Two clawed fingertips hook through the given meat, and without a second thought he bites a chunk from it. His jaw munches on its own, and it tastes good. And it is a pleasure that seems so much easier to make happen, than to find someone pleasing and willing to sate you in a safe place. A simple delight that comes in the form of a need that sustains him so vitally, of course he would be hungry for this.

And still, throughout all that chewing his head lingers in more of those stories he’s read. Upon swallowing, his eyes lift to hers to give another inquiry in return, as is their custom.

“…Would you say it’s something worth hungering for?”

[crossbackpoke-check]

"This extra space next to me belongs to you. I know where I end now. I won't get lost." -- shoot me (metaphorically) and leave me for dead (metaphorically) why won't you. To make this about Dylan and maybe it's about Connor, maybe it's about Brinksy, maybe it's about any journeyman in the NHL. My brain screamed Chris Driedger and his memorable (to me) Players' Tribune article:

And how can you mention Dylan and Zach (Za-ach, the way Dylan says it) without me having a breakdown about them? You simply can't. And for the younger dudes, maybe it's a little Bords/Briss, not yet steady in The Show, a little bit of distance, a summer that tries to erase and make up all the memories they've made separately... and then a blurry insta story in Vegas. Just like old times but somewhere else. Maybe it's not the same bed, maybe it's not the same set of forks, but maybe it's the principle of the thing.

Anyway, goodbye. Sorry for this, your tag walls make me break out in imagined scenarios.

Much love. xxx

please never be sorry for sending me messages <3 i love reading them i love getting them i think they’re beautiful and i love them i’m!!!!! [🥹💕🦋🫧✨💘😭 <- the best approximation of what my heart is doing]

ok NOW i am taking this step by step because every narrative here kicked me straight in the knees (metaphorically) i am w e e p i n g (literally): i knew tangentially about chris driedger going to seattle but i had never read his players’ tribune love letter to seattle & all i can say is oh. oh. and with the part about trains delayed but still being right on time—

sometimes a dream is a truth your heart knows long before you do. the space that the city and the team made for him (“you’d be the only guy on the team”)🗣️🗣️🗣️ !!! but the way that chris talks about needing to put in the work & leo not letting him quit,,, that’s chris filling up the teakettle with twice as much water, crowding one side of the bed (falling asleep against a bus window dreaming), becoming unburdened by the idea of not being their guy, not having the fallback being their draft pick to content and settle himself with. that’s chris betting on a future. that’s the train coming down the tracks, right on time.

(i am feeling unhinged about it)

SECOND. i know i was the one that said zach and dylan to start so technically i brought this on myself but also i have been ktfo by the mere mention of the way that dylan says zach’s name different from everyone else, stealing an extra breath, stealing as much time as he can get with him, which reminded me of a poem i just read:

The Need Is So Great, Jim Moore

^^^dylan still in love with zach even as he’s leaving, can feel himself losing him, and taking every sliver of the love in his smile that he can get. even if he knows zach doesn’t still feel the same way he’s drawing out the long goodbye & saying i love you in a thousand ways without ever saying it out loud (“i have been asking for a time but in ways that have no words” because he doesn’t want to ask too much, to ask for love) in the hope that zach will say it back OKAY I’M LEAVING i can’t do this

that was a lie because THREE. “maybe it’s the principle of the thing” please insert the most ungodly screech how could you just (lovingly) come in straight with the steel chair and bean me upside the head with that l i n e i think this story has the potential for such tragedy in it but also the most tender domestic longing because bords & briss have known each other for a long time (i think) and guys do sometimes lose themselves when they first get to the nhl.

it’s a big scene, you’re with big name guys, you’re finally doing the thing you always dreamed about, you’re no longer necessarily the best because everyone’s the best, you’re not sure how you fit in, you can get lost in the glitz and the glamor of it but you can also literally get lost in it, the slog of the season and getting caught up and down between teams and leagues and endless airports and buses and travel and ice rinks, losing your phone (accidental) and having new people hound you for quotes and fame and connection so you lose your phone (on purpose) and i think where i’m trying to go is: this could play out as the tragedy of borde going to the california coastline and briss shipping off to the vegas strip and both of them getting a little lost.

maybe there’s someone else, maybe i am steadfastly not thinking about “a summer that tries to erase and make up all the memories they've made separately” as either a summer of them pretending things are ok after a year of barely speaking and now being completely different people they never were before OR a summer of them trying to pretend like they can forget about each other because maybe they didn’t think their relationship was the same thing, is all, when they were or weren’t together. maybe it’s nobody’s fault but for the fact that they were scared and tired and lonely trying to make it in the big times and didn’t know how to show it. and then borde shows up with takeout and plastic forks in vegas and it’s december and nothing like winter in ann arbor and still they fill up all the empty spaces in each other with the things they didn’t know they’d miss until they were gone and this is the real thing, not whatever they were trying too hard to be, to recreate their own nostalgia for the love in their memories. it’s the principle of the thing, is all, to always be true to the love they have right now & not what they think it should be.

sorry that i wrote you kind of an essay of an answer but i had so so so many thoughts because your ask was so lovely so thank you for sending it to me (you are always welcome to!! i love your imagined scenarios!!! cannot even explain how much!!!) & thank you for taking the time to read my walls of tags :))) <3

[arealcrow]

the way the best horror experience ive seen so far this year is a doom mod . about queer trauma and loneliness and grief

[ganondoodle]

i really like tumblr bc despite its reputation i get way less annoying people being clowns on my posts on tiwtter i can mention literally anything i dont like about totk and you bet theres some guy that either gets really salty about me not worshipping the game like a god that can do no wrong or straight up get mad about what they IMAGINED i said

[fromevertonow]

Suzanne Collins is one of the few contemporary writers who realizes the importance of names in her stories and the significance they bear. They add so many layers to the story, additional meanings that otherwise would not have existed.

The original trilogy:

Katniss: named after a plant of which you can eat the roots. Her father taught her where to find it and told her that “as long as you can find yourself, you’ll survive” (quote may be a little bit off, but it’s from one of the early chapters in THG). Additionally, the leaves are in the shape of an arrowhead, referencing her skills with the bow which her father also taught her how to use.

Peeta: literally bread lmao. But bread is one of the basic nutritions humans need, a little bit goes a long way to keep you alive. Peeta’s presence in Katniss’s life also kept her alive, literally and figuratively—the burned bread he threw her in the flashback and their complicated relationship.

Primrose: a plant with medicinal purposes, even more significant in light of her work as a medic in Mockingjay.

Gale: literally means “strong wind” and considering that in every encounter with Katniss he’s caused some reaction, he pulls her into directions she maybe initially doesn’t want to go in. Additionally, his name also represents his determination and steadfastness in his beliefs.

TBOSAS

Lucy Gray: named after William Wordsworth’s poem “Lucy Gray” which is about the titular character of the poem who got lost during a blizzard. She literally got lost in snow. Rachel Zegler sang this poem in two parts on the original soundtrack of the movie. When Snow asked who the girl in the song is, Lucy answers that she’s a mystery, just like her.

Snow: aside from the obvious snow references, I think his name is most significant in relation to Lucy and the poem. The only one who knows what caused her disappearance is Snow. He is the reason that Lucy is gone. But her traces in the snow are still visible. He will always remember her because the memory of Lucy has manifested itself in every part of his life.

Coriolanus: named after the Roman general (and also the titular character of Shakespeare’s play), Coriolanus wanted to attack Rome and become its ruler. He was scorned and celebrated by the people, only to be later exiled from the city by them. In TBOSAS, Coriolanus is the star pupil at the Capitol’s academy but sent into exile to the districts after he won the Games with Lucy through cheating.

Volumnia: Coriolanus mother who played a part in his ascent to power. In TBOSAS, she almost serves like a mentor to Coriolanus, teaching him how to think in terms of power.

(Edit) Sejanus: a roman soldier who was betrayed by the roman emperor Tiberius, just like the future president betrayed him.

(Edit) Plinth: got this info from here, but it was too good not to include here. A plinth is a base for a statue or vase to stand on. After Sejanus’s death, all of the Plinth fortune was given to Snow for being such a good to friend him. It was this money that skyrocketed the Snow family from poverty to filthy rich. The Plinth money was the foundation upon which Snow built his power.

There are so many other names that have historical (mostly Roman and Greek) connotations—Plutarch, Seneca, Cinna—but also regular names like Trinket and Beetee bear meanings that represent the character beautifully.

Names are important. For any lover of literature or (aspiring) writers, please look closely at them. They can shape your story into something unique.

Feel free to correct me if I’ve said something wrong. I know there are many names missing, but I can only add so many examples ✊🏻😔

[xxsabitoxx]

Stay Quiet

Yuta x Fem! Reader Smut / characters are 18+

Warnings: semi-public sex, hotel sex, sex with someone else sleeping in the room, titty worship, raw sex, creampies, squirting

A/N: Baby boy is backkkkkk _:(´ཀ`」 ∠): since I feel like I’ve forgotten how to write smut… here is a smut imagine :D

Word count: 1.7k

“Y-yuta~”

Your back is arching into him, hand slapping over your mouth to try and suppress your whimpers. Your boyfriend isn’t listening to your quiet pleas, his head under your shirt, his lips wrapped around one of your nipples.

His only response is stopping his sucking to bite instead, earning a sharp cry from your lips that you quickly try and smother. Beside you, the bed is rustling as Inumaki tosses and turns in his sleep.

Not even a vacation with long time friends in a shared hotel room with two beds would stop Yuta from having his way with you. So long as you kept quiet…

“Yuta please…” you begging him, tone soft but labored as his hand tightened its grip on your side. Still, he didn’t respond, mouth far too preoccupied to speak.

You could only imagine the mess he was making, littering your skin in bruises and saliva to make you his. He’s always adored your breasts, both in the sexual and non-sexual sense. Sometimes he just needed to hold them, other times he needed to fuck them.

You never complained, not when he worshiped you the way he did… the way he was right now.

You could feel your eyes threatening to roll back, his tongue flicking at the sensitive bud as his thigh pressed further to your covered cunt. You were soaked, Yuta could feel the dampness through your night shorts as they pressed into his bare thigh.

Yuta left your breast alone, kissing the bruises he left before turning his head to the one he had been neglecting. It sent a whole new wave of pleasure through you, hand pressing to your mouth tighter as you couldn’t contain your whine.

He nipped at your skin, just hard enough to leave teeth indents that would turn into pretty bruises.

Your hips jerked as he bite down on your nipple, pain and pleasure making you clench around nothing. Your cunt dragged along his thigh, too many layers separating you to gain any real satisfaction from the friction.

“A-at least fuck me, Yuta.” You begged him, hand slotting back over your mouth as he sucked your neglected nipple. Still, you were left with no response, nothing but his hips jerking against your abdomen told you that he had heard your quiet plea.

You felt him, hard and heavy resting on your abdomen, straining in his briefs. If it weren’t for the sheer amount of body heat from being under the covers, you’d have been able to to feel the wet patch forming on the front of him.

Yuta indulged himself further, practically moaning as his hips rolled against you. “N-not fair.” You breathed, one of your hands coming down to rest on top of his head, not able to reach his hair since he was protected by your shirt. “So hot… Yuta I’m hot…”

You knew it was useless, he wasn’t going to stop anything he was doing until he was good and ready.

You could feel it though, your skin was starting to turn slick with sweat. So was Yuta’s, but that didn’t seem to phase him at all. Not when he was lathering your breast with his tongue and whining as he rut his hips against your abdomen.

So needy yet so controlling.

It was a dizzying mix, being completely at his mercy.

Your hips rolled against his thigh, trying to create some sort of relief since he was purposely ignoring you. Three rolls of your hips and Yuta’s grip was tightened, stopping you from moving all together as he released your nipple with a soft pop.

“So fucking needy.”

He practically seethed, pulling his head out from under your shirt to glare at you. “M-me?” You whisper yelled, face warm from anger and need. “Yes you.” Yuta shot back, the anger on his face didn’t concern you.

Not when you could feel his cock twitching.

“We’re both needy, you’re just mean, Yuta.” Your lip wobbled, head turning to look at the other hotel bed. Inumaki had seemed to settle into a deep sleep, back facing the two of you.

“Eyes on me.”

You shivered involuntarily, head turning back to face Yuta in record time. “If I fuck you, you need to keep quiet.” You nodded eagerly, but Yuta wasn’t satisfied.

“Promise me you’ll stay quiet.” You felt your breathing stop, taking a moment to start again as you quietly whispered “I promise.” Yuta still seemed skeptical.

“I still don’t believe you.” He mumbled as he began pulling down his briefs, just enough for his cock to spring free. “Yuta I mean it.” You whined, hands rushing to yank your sleep shorts and panties off for him.

“You’re never quiet, pretty girl.” Warmth flooded you, causing you to suck your lip between your teeth as your hips raised. Yuta helped you despite scolding you, tossing the two clothing items off to the side.

“If you can’t stay quiet, I’ll stop.”

You nodded, taking your vow to silence literally as his fist wrapped around his cock. Your legs spread further to accommodate him, cunt throbbing with the desire for him to be inside of you.

“Tell me you understand, pretty girl.”

He froze just as he positioned himself at your entrance, teasing you further by prolonging what you needed. “I understand, Yuta.” And he pressed in, watching your mouth fall open as your chest rose and froze.

You were good, holding in the moan that was threatening to burst your lungs as he sunk deep. Your cunt had no resistance, swallowing his cock whole as he bottomed out inside of your tight heat. “Good girl.” He groaned.

Your hands found their way to his biceps, nails digging into his muscles as your legs locked around his hips. You managed to exhale the breath you had been holding, barely making a noise louder than a pant.

Yuta wasted no time, hips drawing back and snapping forward. Your head fell back against the pillow, mouth open as a quiet gasp left you. He was focused, head dipping down to watch where he appeared and disappeared inside of you.

Never mind being mindful of the noises you were making, Yuta had to be mindful of the noises your bodies made. Anything louder than the squelching and bed creaking and he was certain Inumaki would be waking up.

But it was hard to be rational when your cunt was suctioning to him, velvety walls begging to milk him for all he was worth. He’d give it to you, no questions asked.

Every drag of his cock had you arching, scratching at his biceps as sweat dripped down your brow. You couldn’t think straight, breath catching in your lungs every few thrusts as you tried to ignore the urge to scream his name. “K-kiss me.” You managed to choke out.

It certainly wasn’t a whisper, the rustling in the bed over confirmed that. Yuta dropped lower, practically draping his body over you, hips rolling slowly rather than thrusting as he slotted his lips over yours.

Still, he was listening, silently praying Inumaki wouldn’t wake up because dammit he was certain he wouldn’t be able to stop fucking you even if he did.

“Y-Yuta-“ it was muffled, swallowed whole by his tongue slipping past your lips. You gave in, nearly melting into the mattress from his weight settling on you, the close proximity causing his pubic bone to brush your clit.

You felt it then, molten hot arousal pooling in your gut as he offered to the slightest bit of relief.

Yuta pulled away, saliva keeping your lips connected. “You have to be quiet, pretty girl. He almost woke up.” You nodded, eyes so bleary and lips so swollen that he couldn’t bring himself to really scold you.

Yuta found his pace again, hips smacking into yours and creating a soft slap that was just barely muffled by the hotel comforter. He was struggling to contain his own noises as your cunt clenched around him, one of your hands falling away from his bicep to sneak between you.

“Rub your clit for me, pretty girl. Make yourself cum on my cock.” It was a whisper but it seemed to echo off the walls of your skull, rendering you completely speechless.

You did as he asked, hand slipped down to feel your soaked cunt, rubbing your clit in face circles as Yuta’s cock stroked your sweet spot. “Make yourself cum on my cock, please. You know how much I love that.”

You nodded, mouth hanging open as breathless pants slipped past. They were quiet enough to not wake Inumaki but if anyone were to enter the room, it would be painfully obvious what was happening.

Yuta watched you, eyes torn between watching your tits bounce with each thrust and watching where his cock kept disappearing inside of you. It was utterly entrancing, making him gasp as his cock twitched violently within your walls.

“I’m gonna cum, pretty girl. Cum with me please.”

His voice cracked, face sweaty and flushed as he begged you so sweetly. It sent electricity straight down your spine, clit throbbing as your orgasm built. The thrusts got harder, a little sloppier… and louder.

Not that Yuta could care in that moment, he seemed to forget everything he had been drilling in your head as he moaned your name. You whined, eyes widening at the volume of his voice as your walls clenched again.

You were close, fueled by the feeling of his cock twitching deep inside of you. “Cum with me, please.”

Breathless, you nodded, head falling back as you brought yourself over the edge just as Yuta did. His hips stuttering before burying deep, pushing against your cervix as he spilled his load in you.

You had barely registered the warm gush that flooded between your thighs, not until Yuta collapsed on top of you. “Fuck.” You offered weakly, feeling the dampness on the sheets below accompanied by your sweaty skin.

“We made a mess.” Yuta’s tone was sheepish, vibrating your neck as he spoke into it. “It definitely reeks of sex in here too…” you felt your face burning, realizing there wasn’t any windows open to allow ventilation.

“He’ll figure it out regardless.” Yuta sounded defeated but you could feel a smile on his face. “I’ll take the blame… since I’m the one who can’t resist your breasts.”

“You better.”

[landosjpg]

morning runs | ln

the one where your boyfriend finds you fast asleep in your hotel bed when he returns from his morning run.

lando norrix x fem!reader

word count: ~1.0k

warnings: smut MINORS DNI!!!!, porn without plot, somnophilia, p in v, unprotected sex (as always, take care please), slight praise

note: those pictures of him running around melbourne with his shirt off have sent me into a spiral and they're the only thing i could think about for the past two days. i could not help myself.

no matter how many times you travelled long distances, you still weren't used to it; jet lag always kicked your ass every time you went to a race on the other side of the world with lando, messing up your sleeping schedule to the point it ended up knocking you out for the vast majority of the day.

you were trying your best to adapt to the time change, but it always took you a few days to get it right. this year, lando had decided that morning runs were the way to beat jet lag.

he had asked you to join a few times, promising it would be helpful, but the drowsiness made it impossible for you to climb out of bed that early and be productive. that's why he had left all by himself early in the morning, tucking you in and planting a soft kiss on your forehead before walking out the hotel room.

he came back only a few hours later, cheeks flushed and a thin layer of sweat covering his chest, tank top in hand. when he walked into your shared room, he found you were still in bed, in the same position he had left you earlier, sheets sprawled out barely covering your body now.

he softly smiled at the sight before him, the dim light that entered the room from the blinds tempting him to get back in bed with you. he would. righter after taking a shower, he promised himself.

however, he walked to where you were, smiling at your sleepy expression.

"i love you," he mumbled, leaning down to peck your slightly parted lips. he raised his eyebrows when he heard a small whimper leave your throat and you shifted around a little, his eyes scanning your half-naked body.

you were only weating one of his shirts. not that it was something you never did before, but something about tour drowsy state was drawing him in. he sat right beside you on the mattress, trying not to woke you up and his fingers slowly reached for your legs, stroking your bare sking tenderly with the tip of his fingers.

you sighed softly at his warm touch, stretching your body and your shirt sliding up, letting him have a look at your underwear. he moved his hand up, up, up, until his fingertips brushed against the hem of your panties. as if it was muscle memory, your legs slowly spread open for him.

and fuck, was it tempting.

it wouldn't be the first time you woke up to his fingers buried deep inside you or his head between your legs, but he knew this time you were too tired. and he would have stood up and taken a shower if you hadn't whimpered his name in your sleep the second he withdrew his hand from your core. the sweet sound that fell from your lips made him smile, fingers slowly going back to pull your underwear to the side so he could get a proper look at you.

his smirk grew wider at the sight of how wet you were, and when you stirred the second he softly pressed his thumb against your clit, he knew he couldn't just leave you yet. lazily, he got rid of his own clothes, discarding them on the floor and hovered over your body, pulling your shirt up to your hips gently, still not wanting to disturb your sleep.

"look so pretty like this, baby," he mumbled before leaning down to kiss your cheek as he slid his already hard cock between your folds, slowly pushing inside of you only a few seconds later. a low groan escaped his throat as you easily took all of him; the fact that you were so ready for him, even in your unaware state, making him smile once more.

he stilled his body as he bottomed out for a few seconds, his eyes taking in your sweet expression. he brushed a strand of your hair back as he started rolling his hips slowly, his breath getting heavier as you hummed in your sleep.

the groan he let out right next to your ear as you unconciously clenched around him woke you up, making your body squirm in confussion under him.

"s'me, baby..." he slurred, still fucking you slowly and gently. "it's just me, don't worry."

you softly whimpered when you heard your boyfriend's voice and felt his weight on you, chest pressed against yours.

"lando..." the moan that left your lips was low, and you lazily wrapped your arms around his waist, holding him close. your eyes fluttered open only to find out he was looking right back at you. through half-lidded eyes, you could see the slight flush of his cheeks, a chuckle leaving your lips before you closed them again.

"you're doing so good," he whispered, keeping his thrusts gentle, not wanting to take you out of your sleepy state. "my pretty, pretty baby," he added, bumping his nose on yours to kiss your lips before hiding his face in the crook of your neck and spreading little kisses all over your skin.

the build up was slow, whispered praises and sighs being the only sound filling the room that turned into low whimpers as soon as you felt your toes curling, your pussy tightening around your boyfriend's cock, stealing a string of curses from his lips when you felt him filling you up.

after a few seconds, he slowly rolled the two of you on the mattress, your body now on top of his with him still buried inside of you.

"go back to sleep, baby," he murmured, pressing a small kiss to the corner of your lips and pulling the bedsheets over your bodies again, his arms holding you close to his chest, keeping you warm and comfortable.

[elumish]

I've been reading Iron Flame by Rebecca Yarros, and it's gotten me thinking about how worldbuilding is multilayered, and about how a failure of one layer of the worldbuilding can negatively impact the book, even if the other layers of the worldbuilding work.

I don't want to spoil the book for anyone, so I'm going to talk about it more broadly instead. In my day job, one of the things I do is planning/plan development, and we talk about plans broadly as strategic, operational, and tactical. I think, in many ways, worldbuilding functions the same way.

Strategic worldbuilding, as I think of it, is how the world as a whole works. It's that vampires exist and broadly how vampires exist and interact with the world, unrelated to the characters or (sometimes) to the organizations that the characters are part of. It's the ongoing war between Earth and Mars; it's the fact that every left-handed person woke up with magic 35 years ago; it's Victorian-era London except every twelfth day it rains frogs. It's the world, in the broadest sense.

Operational worldbuilding is the organizations--the stuff that people as a whole are doing/have made within the context of that strategic-level world. For The Hunger Games, I'd probably put the post-apocalyptic nature of the world and even the existence/structure of the districts as the strategic level and the construct of the Hunger Games as the operational level: the post-apocalyptic nature of the world and the districts are the overall world that they live in, and the Hunger Games are the construct that were created as a response.

Tactical worldbuilding is, in my mind, character building--and, specifically, how the characters (especially but not exclusively the main characters) exist within the context of the world. In The Hunger Games, Katniss has experience in hunting, foraging, wilderness survival, etc. because of the context of the world that she grew up in (post-apocalyptic, district structure, Hunger Games, etc.). This sort of worldbuilding, to me, isn't about the personality part of the characterization but about the context of the character.

Each one of these layers can fail independently, even if the other ones succeed. When I think of an operational worldbuilding failure, I think of Divergent, where they took a post-apocalyptic world and set up an orgnaizational structure that didn't make any sense, where people are prescribed to like 6 jobs that don't in any way cover what's required to run a modern civilization--or even to run the society that they're shown as running. The society that they present can't exist as written in the world that they're presented as existing in--or if they can, I never could figure out how when reading the book (or watching the film).

So operational worldbuilding failures can happen when the organizations or societies that are presented don't seem like they could function in the context that they are presented in or when they just don't make any sense for what they are trying to accomplish. If the story can't reasonably answer why is this organization built this way or why do they do what they do then I see it as an organizational worldbuilding failure.

For tactical worldbuilding failures, I think of stories where characters have skillsets that conveniently match up with what they need to solve the problems of the plot but don't actually match their background or experience. If Katniss had been from an urban area and never set foot in a forest, it wouldn't have worked to have her as she was.

In this way (as in planning), the tactical level should align with the operational level which should align with the strategic level--you should be able to trace from one to the next and understand how things exist in the context of each other.

For that reason, strategic worldbuilding failures are the vaguest to explain, but I think of them like this: if it either 1) is so internally inconsistent that it starts to fall apart or 2) leaves the reader going this doesn't make any sense at all then it's probably failed.