#even the days where i feel down at the end are good days. My feeling sad/anxious/depressed doesnt mean i had a bad day. even if it feels bad

[txttletale]

"you, specifically, are a bad and evil person that all my posts are written to condemn" this is not what i said. i'm sorry for not being clearer. i just feel like everyone in this space, not just you, look down on people who live in the first world as people who willingly don't change anything about how the world works when it's just not that simple. i know you all love to combat this and say otherwise but it will never change the simple reality that for some people it really is very hard, if not impossible, to do anything politically, for a variety of reasons. i'm disabled, i live in a remote part of the country, and i'm bad at talking to people. i don't have the money to just move to a population center or get lessons on how to speak to people. i can't do anything and i feel like every time you or one of the other communists on tumblr talks about the imperial core, i feel like i, personally, am being held to an unreasonable standard that i would not hold anyone else to, if i were in one of your situations. obviously i want things to change. i don't want genocide to be a thing that's constantly happening, i don't want my country to have its tendrils dug into every other country, i want socialism and eventually global communism, and if i could do anything meaningful-- anything at all-- to achieve those goals i would be working on that. but right now that just is not the case for me, and i feel like i'm not alone in that either. i just wish you had like a smidgen of empathy for some of the people living here who don't fit into your stereotype of what a member of the imperial core looks like-- i'm not even trying to say that sarcastically, it genuinely feels like you all don't see us as human. like nyanguard especially seems to think of us as incapable of saving ourselves, and one of the reblogs to my first ask just said they "like to imagine that (i'm) crying as i type this". how am i supposed to react to that? is this how all of you feel about people like me? would your feelings about me change if i lived in another country, or would you find some other excuse to talk down to me? is it really just the country i live in that's the problem, here? i'm not trying to accuse you, i'm asking this question genuinely.

i know it's tempting to respond to this with a snarky comment but please just try to understand where i am coming from. i really am willing to help if i can.

i don't think any marxist seriously has a political theory of imperialism that amounts to "citizens of the imperial core simply choose not to do anything because they are all individually bad people". i mean the whole point of marxism is that economic relations are the ultimate drivers of historical change, not abstract psychological or moral qualities of people.

i'm sympathetic to your situation! the imperial core is a very atomizing place to live, and there are places and situations where there's just no practical path to getting organized and taking meaningful political action in the near future. however, your problem here is:

i feel like i, personally, am being held to an unreasonable standard that i would not hold anyone else to

nobody is posting about you, personally. like at the end of the day you have to learn to either not take posts like that personally or just block everyone who makes them to manage your own time on the computer vis a vis niceness--i don't think it's the responsibility of me or any other communist to constantly provide asterisks and carveouts that we're not talking about the Good Ones Who Have Extenuating Circumstances when we talk about the usa and its material political base.

& in the same way that you ask for empathy for your situation i would ask you to extend a level of understanding to people whose homelands and countrymen and communities have been devastated by US coups and sanctions and invasions, that they have as much a right to express the rage and fury and hurt of that cultural legacy as you do to express your own sadness about your own situation. imagine, for example, how you would feel if your grandparents could not reliably get medicine because of us sanctions. & of course the correct target for these feelings are not random usamericans--but these posts are also not serious politcal platforms, they are venting from people who live their lives under the weight of empire.

if you think what they're saying is unfair to you, then you need to develop the ability to say 'well, i understand why they would feel that way' and move on. like i understand why you are upset, and i don't say this to be dismissive, but as real advice: it is not fair (especially to bloggers from the global south) to essentially rest your happiness and self-worth at their feet and demand that they validate you.

genuinely, i hope this helps. it's all i really have to say on the matter.

[zigdirty]

By the time I got off work this year, I’d already seen that the election had been called. I already knew the results.

Normally I have the tradition of watching this spectacular film every Guy Fawkes Day, November 5th, so I can enjoy it all over again, but also do I am always aware of how easily fascism can take over.

The irony of this Election Day being on Guy Fawkes Day, and the stakes of said election, were not lost on me. Not in the slightest.

But having been unable to watch it before I went to work Tuesday, I planned to at least start it before the end of the day. That is, until I saw the news.

All I could hear in my head was the speech broadcast across the emergency channel:

Good evening, London. Allow me first to apologize for this interruption. I do, like many of you, appreciate the comforts of everyday routine, the security of the familiar, the tranquillity of repetition. I enjoy them as much as any bloke. But in the spirit of commemoration, whereby those important events of the past, usually associated with someone's death or the end of some awful bloody struggle, are celebrated with a nice holiday, I thought we could mark this November the fifth, a day that is sadly no longer remembered, by taking some time out of our daily lives to sit down and have a little chat. There are, of course, those who do not want us to speak. I suspect even now, orders are being shouted into telephones, and men with guns will soon be on their way. Why? Because while the truncheon may be used in lieu of conversation, words will always retain their power. Words offer the means to meaning, and for those who will listen, the enunciation of truth. And the truth is, there is something terribly wrong with this country, isn't there? Cruelty and injustice, intolerance and oppression. And where once you had the freedom to object, to think and speak as you saw fit, you now have censors and systems of surveillance coercing your conformity and soliciting your submission. How did this happen? Who's to blame? Well, certainly, there are those who are more responsible than others, and they will be held accountable. But again, truth be told, if you're looking for the guilty, you need only look into a mirror. I know why you did it. I know you were afraid. Who wouldn't be? War, terror, disease. They were a myriad of problems which conspired to corrupt your reason and rob you of your common sense. Fear got the best of you, and in your panic, you turned to the now high chancellor, Adam Sutler. He promised you order, he promised you peace, and all he demanded in return was your silent, obedient consent. Last night, I sought to end that silence. Last night, I destroyed the Old Bailey to remind this country of what it has forgotten. More than four hundred years ago, a great citizen wished to embed the fifth of November forever in our memory. His hope was to remind the world that fairness, justice, and freedom are more than words; they are perspectives. So if you've seen nothing, if the crimes of this government remain unknown to you, then I would suggest that you allow the fifth of November to pass unmarked. But if you see what I see, if you feel as I feel, and if you would seek as I seek, then I ask you to stand beside me, one year from tonight, outside the gates of Parliament, and together we shall give them a fifth of November that shall never, ever be forgot.

This has played on repeat in my mind since I learned of the election results, searing itself into my psyche.

We are now at that place. We are now the people to whom V was speaking in the movie.

I cannot bring myself to rewatch this marvel of live-action film. I do not believe it would bring me joy any longer.

We have no one else to blame but ourselves.

And we have a long road ahead of us out of hell.

V for Vendetta (2005)

[so-i-did-this-thing]

Hello!

I wanted to ask a question, if that's okay. So, I'm genderfluid afab and feel like a man sometimes (probably more often than I allow myself to realise). I don't have access to a Binder or anything of that sort (transphobic parents).

Is there any way for me to look/be more masculine? I'm a bit scared of goggling because I don't want to accidentally take advice from Tate people or the like.

(PS. I really like your Siegfried Farnon cosplay!)

Heya!

This is a tough one to answer. Because "masculine" means different things to different people. And "passing", as well.

Like. When I wear my fleece jacket and baseball cap, I'm deliberately passing as a certain type of man. But I felt more masculine the other day wearing an ascot.

So, I think we need to break down this question:

1) If you're looking to pass, there are going to be trans masc guides out there that will direct you to a very particular gender presentation. They tend to assume you are white and skinny. They present themselves as a list of Dos and Do-Nots, and at the end of the day, do more harm than good, imo. Because passing guides are almost always about hiding parts of yourself physically, often to the expense of hiding parts of your psyche.

Seek them out if you must, but when it comes to passing for safety, all I can suggest is ambiguous layers, a hat, keeping your head down and your mouth shut. The best way to pass is to not draw attention to yourself, alas.

2) If you're looking to dress more masculine to alleviate gender dysphoria, then you need to drill down to what makes you dysphoric and start there. My smaller feet is one area of contention for me, so I look for semi-dressy shoes that look long and elegant (like Taft boots). Since you can't get a binder, consider layers, if your chest bothers you.

3) If you're looking to dress more masculine to seek gender euphoria, then figure out your aesthetic masculine ideal. Make a pinboard of Looks you enjoy and see if there are trends. Some folks are drawn to athletic wear. Work wear. Perhaps a vintage aesthetic -- Rockabilly. 90s grunge. 1940s British country vet (meeeee, lol).

Ask yourself: What are the hallmarks of this style? Are there casual and formal versions? How does it change seasonally? How much of it is clothing and how much of it is the body (haircut, being muscular, etc)? And above all - what is this style trying to communicate to others?

Once done, see what sort of fashion tips are out there for your style. Who are the fashion experts and how much do you care about their advice? (Menswear guy has great tips about how a modern suit "should" fit, but a lot of his advice is also personal preference with a big dollop of classism.)

Pay close attention to how men wear their clothes -- where they sit on the body, how they style the outfit. Compare how a man is styled in your preferred look to how a woman is styled and see what that sparks in you. How much of it is the clothing or body? How much is posture? You might discern some visual shorthand you can harness to be read as more masculine. You might also come up with ways to have plausible deniability around your parents by being able to pivot a masculine look to be more feminine, when needed.

After all this research, get yourself to a thrift shop or other second hand option and start experimenting. Buying actual men's clothing is probably going to be your best bet, but depending on your Look Book, that may not always be the case.

No one can tell you how to feel more masculine -- that really needs to come from within. Once you figure that out, then it's a matter of reconciling your ideal look with the peculiarities of your body. (And all men have their own challenges wrt the fit of clothes.)

Afford yourself as much grace as possible when it comes to your body. And again, remember that feeling more masculine and passing more masculine may not always overlap and could even be at odds. And only you can determine if and when that is a problem.

[mrsriddlenott]

okay I just need pussydrunk mattheo 🥵

It is honestly embarrassing how long this has been in my drafts unfinished(literally a few days over a year🤦‍♀️) I have been awol for so long but I have been GOIN through it y’all. I think I can finally at least try and actually come back to this blog. I love writing so much and I hate when it just isn’t fun anymore. And when I saw this I actually got excited to finish it so let’s see how it goes. Please correct mistakes and give feedback

Warnings: suggestive content but not actually full smut, public oral(f!receiving), heavy petting, play argument/kinda roleplay, some teasing.

{masterlist}

~Needy~

To plenty of people having a needy boyfriend would be the end of the world. But when that boyfriend is Mattheo Riddle, who seems to have an unnaturally high labido and stamina, it’s more of a pro rather than a con.

But what comes with needy is clingy. Mattheo just needs his hands on you whenever he can. You weren’t complaining but he certainly was. There was just too much time out of the day that he couldn’t touch you. So me made sure to cut thay time down as much as he could.

“Come oooon Baby” Mattheo groaned as he tugged you towards an empty, shadow filled corridor, “Just think about it, how many days a week do we have Potions, and how many weeks are in a term, how many terms in a school year….we can miss one hour of Potions Baby it’ll be fine. Plus you’re the smartest, prettiest, hottest person at this school you’ve got options for you future.”

“Um first of all,” You start, crossing your arms across your chest, poking your hip out to make Mattheo groan out loud as he restrains himself from touching you, “This will be the fourth time we missed Potions so far this term, and second of all who said I was worried for my future, nuh uh Baby I’m worried about yours.”

“Merlin you’re sexy when you’re being all bossy”Mattheo sighs, stepping closer to you and fanning your face with his breath, “I don’t care about my future as long as you’re in it, I need to keep you excited don’t I Princess?” He laughs out as he watches your resolve melt away, moving his hand up to grip your waste.

“That’s no fair.” You pout, desperately trying to hold a straight face as you continue, “You know you’re not allowed to call me Princess in an argument, you always win with that.” Mattheo sighs dramatically and steps even closer to you, breathing your air as he holds your hip tightly, tugging you into him aggressively.

“I’m so sorry baby, please forgive me,” He begs dramatically, smiling before dipping his head into the crook beside your shoulder to trace small pecks across your collarbone, forcing a moan to slip past your lips despite your pretend protests.

“How could I ever forgive you for such a lapse Mattheo,” you smile at how fast he halts his mouths assault of your collarbone giving you time to slip your fingers into his raven curls, giving them a tug to force his eyes up to yours, “You know, I can think of something you can do to earn my forgiveness.”

“What?” He rasps out, his breath caught in his chest at the feeling of your hand in his hair and the other slowly slipping down his chest at an agonizing pace, “What can I do to make you feel better Baby, I’ll do anything for you, you know that.” His voice his breathy and desperate, sending heat down your abdomen as your thighs squeeze together subconsciously. At the gentle shove to his shoulder, Mattheo knew exactly what you wanted, smirking as you looked down to him where he leant into you with those pretend innocent eyes. Mattheo fell to his knees immediately, his hands tracing their way under your skirt while his eyes stay on yours.

“Is this what you’re asking for…Princess?” Mattheo asks, smirking as he gains dominance from below you, “You want me to make you feel good?….But Baby what about Potions, we-we can’t miss class i-it’s impo-“ You cut off his teasing with a tug to his hair and small sigh at the feeling of his hand ghosting across your underwear. Mattheo groans, his eyes falling into the back of his head as your fingers tighten in his hair.

“Okay okay, I’ve got you Princess.” He laughs breathlessly as his fingers tug your underwear down your legs, allowing you to step out of them before he shoves them in his pocket with a wink. In a flash Mattheo has his lips on you, his head vanishing under your skirt, his hand trailing upward to squeeze at your chest through your button up, the other gripping your thigh to give you support as you begin to wobble.

“Oh fuck Mattheo,” You moan loudly before clamping your hand over your mouth, almost forgetting your very public location at the feeling of Mattheo’s tongue meticulously swirling around your clit. His chuckle from below almost pisses you off enough to fight for dominance but as though to wipe your mind of it, Mattheo flattens his tongue and leaves a strip up your heat, making you whimper into your hand and bite your skin to prevent getting caught.

You shake as Mattheo’s fingernails dig into the skin of your thigh while it wobbles, unsteady as you begin to lose balance at the fast pace of Mattheo’s tongue, “Fuck Baby, can you stand or do I need to hold you?” He chuckles against you at your whine of protest, not wanting him to stop even for a second. Mattheo quickly tugs your thigh over his shoulder, allowing him to gain more access, speeding up his actions, moaning at your taste and the thought of you coming on his face as you depend on him to hold you steady. Your head falls back against the stone wall, your eyes rolling backward as your hand falls to his shoulders for balance not caring anymore about your volume. Your little whimpers and squeaks drive him insane below you, he knows your close, he can feel it.

Without warning Mattheo shifts lower, shoving his tongue into you, lowering his hand from your chest in a flash and using his thumb to stimulate your clit as his tongue moves in and out of you, matching his own pace and groaning as he feels your legs begin to shake for him. Your moans become screams as you release on his tongue, falling into his hold while he rises to look at your post-orgasm face he loves so much.

“Good thing we did this during class, someone might have heard otherwise.” Mattheo says simply with a laugh as you weakly smack at his broad shoulder.

~~~~

Pretty short compared to others I have but I just really wanted to start posting again. I’m probably gonna be cleaning out my drafts and trying to get them out even old ones ppl probably aren’t waiting on anymore to try and get back into a groove on here.

[loganhowlettshousewife]

animal

chapter 4

friendly reminder that i am not a writer, i'm just a girl who loves logan howlett and wanted to write something exploring his animalistic side since i so rarely see it done. my first language is also not english, so please do not be rude when giving me any feedback.

warnings: swearing, drinking/alcohol, mentions of sex, mentions of blood, violence, killing, angst, i hate the pacing of this but i rewrote it like three times and then gave up

series masterlist │my masterlist

after sharing your first kiss, logan becomes much more clingy. he’s attached to you at nearly all times. if you’d thought he was affectionate before, you had no idea what you were getting into. his favourite thing is to press his face into your neck, licking and biting the skin there, but it’s not just your neck. you’ve become a chew toy for a 400 pound man.

he’s never too harsh with it, always gentle with you. he knows you’re not as strong as him. it’s affectionate nibbling, like dogs biting their owners, and you love it because it’s such a clear sign of logan’s happiness.

it reminds you of the early days with logan, where he couldn’t stand to be in a different room as you, though now it’s no longer out of fear but out of a deep desire for closeness and companionship.

and things are good for a while, like that. you enjoy the ease of your unlabeled relationship. he’s yours and you’re his, in every capacity. there’s no need to put an arbitrary, man-made label on your relationship when most of it is quiet, unspoken. you’ve never really had a conversation about what you are, but it’s obvious.

you had thought yourself happy before meeting logan, at peace with the life you’d made for yourself, self-sufficient and doing all the things you loved. you weren’t slaving away at a corporate job, making hardly enough money to support your hobbies, leaving you with hardly any time to enjoy them anyway. it was good.

this is a different kind of happiness, one you’d thought was only real in fairytales. you feel as though he has some sort of six-sense telling him how you’re feeling, when you’re tense or unhappy. he makes you feel like a princess.

but all good things must come to an end. 

he starts to have more nightmares, takes to sleeping in the guest room because he doesn’t want to keep you awake all night with him. more often than not you’ll hear him shouting in his sleep, deep grunts of pain that have you rising from your bed and joining him, hoping your presence will soothe him.

and you like to think that it does. you never get too close to him when he’s tossing and turning restlessly, claws out, metal gleaming in the low moonlight streaming from the gap in the curtains, but you know that logan’s senses are enhanced, heightened, and so you hope that he can feel your presence even while stuck in a nightmare, that you can drag him out of it. eventually he always either settles or wakes up, though both are better alternatives than watching him struggle against an invisible enemy.

you’ve had a few more close calls, where his claws get a little too close, where you let your guard down and lean closer towards him even though you know better, because your heart aches for him.

he becomes more human by the day. he doesn’t tell you when his memories start to come back to him, but you can tell.

you can tell when you get home to find him on the couch with a bottle of whiskey that he must have gotten from the cellar, the one you’d never shown him how to find. it belonged to your grandfather, so you’d gotten it along with the house, but you don’t drink very often and so you haven’t made much use of it.

he takes large swigs of the half-empty bottle, the smell of whiskey on his breath and the taste of booze on his tongue when you go to kiss him. 

you can tell when he becomes less expressive with you, no longer sharing his emotions on his face or with his behaviour as easily as before. he doesn’t bound up to you and sniff you to check where you’ve been, to check if anyone’s gotten too close, their scent clinging onto your clothes. he doesn’t growl when he’s upset or annoyed, just grits his teeth and clenches his jaw tight.

you can tell by the way he holds back his little noises when you pull his head into your lap, scratching at his scalp and tugging on the longer tufts of his hair that you’d jokingly started to refer to as kitty ears. you miss the soft purring, the knowledge that logan was happy and comfortable with you.

sometimes you’ll plan out conversations in your head, acting out how you’ll talk to him and the words you’ll use and how he might reply. but when you try to ask him if he’s alright, placing a hand on his trembling one, sitting down in his lap so he can’t escape, he always shrugs it off. he tells you you’re sweet for worrying about him and kisses you until you no longer remember what you wanted to say.

there’s something happening in his mind that he’s not telling you about, but you chalk up all his odd behaviours to him needing time to deal with remembering his old life.

if his constant nightmares tell you anything, it’s that the memories returning to him aren’t positive ones. there’s a pain in him that wasn’t there before, a darkness that lingers behind his eyes, haunted by things he’s seen. you can’t imagine anyone would deal very well with the onslaught of traumas returning with a vengeance.

he doesn’t stop kissing you, doesn’t stop hugging you from behind, doesn’t stop surprising you by sneaking up behind you and picking you up out of nowhere, making you shriek and giggle. so you tell yourself you’re being dramatic, it’ll resolve itself in time.

it doesn’t.

he goes out to run through the forest, to hunt as the natural predator he was always meant to be, but when he comes back he won’t speak to you. he shrugs you off, locking the door to the bathroom so you can’t meet him in there.

it’s a small thing, but it’s a crack in the routines you and logan have been building together, the wordless nature of your relationship crumbling around you because all of a sudden it no longer feels like the two of you are on the same wavelength.

you cry silently on the couch, head in your hands, feeling like your world is collapsing. the perfect bubble that had settled around you and logan had popped, and now reality was coming in to destroy the fantasy you’d grown accustomed to. you should have seen it coming - in fact, you had, with every night he spent in a bottle instead of on your lips, but you’d chosen to ignore it.

he doesn’t seem to be as in-tune with your emotions anymore, and you wonder if it’s because he simply doesn’t care enough to try.

the through wrenches you in two.

you had given logan your heart, placed it in his rough, calloused hands and asked him to hold it for you. and now you could feel that very same hand, once so gentle and careful, squeezing tighter and tighter, a physical ache.

you need time away from him, away from the house where every corner has memories attached. so you journey into town.

you’re out for a while, walking aimlessly. the streets grow dark, the sun setting in hues of orange and pink behind the horizon, streetlamps turning on to replace the sunlight, though their dim glow is hardly an effective replacement. and still, you don’t return home, not quite ready to face logan.

it’s as you’re preparing to head back, muttering reassuring words to yourself under your breath, that someone grabs you from behind, a hand against your mouth so you can’t scream. you’re shoved into an alley, thin and dingy between two shops that have already closed for the night, their employees gone home to rest, no one around to hear your struggles.

you scream, though the sound is muffled, and cry and kick at your assailant, but he won’t let go. he’s stronger than you.

you think about logan, who doesn’t know where you are, who probably walked out of the bathroom with only a towel around his waist, stray droplets of water tracing down the grooves of his abs. you think about how on any other day you would have kissed down his chest to catch the water on your lips, not yet venturing below his waist, though you’ve done other things.

you hope you don’t die tonight. there’s still so much you haven’t done, so much you haven’t said.

and then the body holding yours is gone and you fall to the ground, knees scraping the pavement on your way down. you cry and cry, fear and anger and relief all washing together into a mess you can’t name. you barely notice the sounds of your assailant begging for mercy, or the low growl from your saviour. but you can smell the blood in the air, the tang of iron.

“what the fuck were you thinking?” strong arms lift you up and instinctively you squirm to try to get away, until a hand grabs your chin and forces your gaze upwards. logan’s furious glare stares back at you, his eyes narrowed and jaw tense.

“i- i’m sorry,” you whisper, barely able to get the words out, and you collapse against him. because even if he’s covered in blood and his claws are still out and he’s just murdered a man, even if he’s clearly angry and dangerous, you’ve never felt safer.

he’s quiet the whole way home. he doesn’t speak to you as he carries you inside the house, refusing to let you walk on your own, doesn’t speak to you as he cleans the cuts on your knees, doesn’t speak to you as he settles you down on the couch with a soft blanket fresh out of the dryer, doesn’t speak to you as he makes your tea the exact way you like it.

and then, “wanna tell me what you were doing out there? you know it’s unsafe for a pretty girl like you after dark, you don’t need me telling you that.”

“i just needed some air,” you argue, though there’s not much heat behind the words, staring down at your steaming mug of tea, watching the unmoving liquid as if it’s the most interesting thing you’ve ever seen. logan scoffs, and you can see him in your peripheral vision, looking so unlike the man you thought you knew.

“there’s plenty of air here, we’re in the middle of fucking nowhere.”

“you know what i mean,” you sigh, and he stares at you with his hands on his hips until you roll your eyes and continue, “i needed to be away from you! is that what you want to hear? you’re different lately and it scares me because everything was so great for some time and now you’re…”

“different?” he laughs sharply, “yeah, i’ve got my memories back. i remember every awful fucking thing that’s ever happened to me, every time i’ve been tortured. you know how many times i’ve been tortured? you think i’d act the same after that?”

“it’s not that,” you argue, placing your mug down on the coffee table, “we don’t sleep in the same bed anymore! you refuse to let me see you when you come home after hunting! you don’t cuddle up to me like you did before! you used to kiss my neck all the time and now you don’t! you’re just… pulling away. and i know i’m being selfish, fuck do i know it. but every time i’ve tried to have a conversation with you about this you shut it down so what was i supposed to do, logan?”

“you wanna have a conversation?” he shouts, “fine, talk.”

your breath is coming out in ragged pants. there’s a fire in your veins, a fury you haven’t felt in a very long time, it’s intensity paralysing you. you watch logan’s face, the way he stands before you, his imposing figure stretched above yours.

and there’s nothing you can say. the words you’ve been preparing every night before bed for days and days flutter away in a breeze. all you can do is watch his chest rising and falling.

“i wish you would talk to me,” is the only thing you manage to choke out.

“you’re not getting that version of me back,” he says, voice finally softening into something resembling his usual gruff but not unkind tone, “i remember who i am now. so you gotta let go of this shit, or you gotta let go of me.”

taglist: @mystiquesvendetta @raeinyourdreams @babey-fruit-bat @meetmypointlessaddiction @kneelforloki @deaky-with-a-c @hypermarvellove @littlepeanut03 @the-ruler-of-death @aliengutzstuff @misscrissfemmefatale @mynamesstevenwithav @teaganthemorningstar @blackkatzz @leryg0 @fries11 @forksloree @i5uckersblog @dragovegogrimborn @quillycrow @melday0105 @just-a-little-cellist @scorpiosaintt @akasha157-blog

if your name is in white it means i couldn’t tag you for some reason. i’m very sorry :(

[famoussharkhairdoknight]

Attitude- Jude Bellingham

Wearning: +18,smut, english is not my first language.

In the tranquility of your home, the atmosphere was tense. You leaned with a mischievous smile on the edge of the kitchen table, watching Jude as he cast a look full of frustration and impatience.

"Do you really think you can get away with it?" he asks, his voice still, but with a hint of defiance in his eyes.

You look at him innocently, even though inside you knew what you were doing. "I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jude," you reply, crossing your arms with a smirk that you knew would provoke him even more.

Jude steps towards you, his eyebrows slightly raised, and lets out a long sigh. "Don’t be smart," she says in a low tone, "You know perfectly well that your attitude today is... well, irritating."

You lean slightly towards him, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, really? What’s so annoying?" You ask him, the gently provocative tone.

Jude shakes his head, approaching until you are face to face. "You know what I mean. You keep making jokes, ignoring me when I try to talk seriously. You’ve been all day... unbearable," he says, the tone now almost exasperated.

You smile impertinent, feeling the adrenaline go up. "Maybe I like to see you like this," he whispers with a smile, knowing that those words would trigger him.

Jude looks at you intensely for a long moment, then steps back, hands on hips as he tries to keep control. "Don’t you understand how much you’re freaking me out? I can’t do everything, you know?" he says, almost in a whisper full of restrained anger.

At the end, you give in slightly, trying to hide your smug smile. "Maybe I just wanted to get some of your attention," she murmured, looking down.

Jude sighs, shaking his head with an incredulous half smile. "You are impossible..."

With a little smirk of defiance, you approach again, continuing to tease him. "So, Jude, what do you think you’re doing?" Ask him, letting your voice sound sweet but provocative. You know you’re walking a fine line, but you can’t resist the temptation to poke him again.

He closes his eyes for a moment, as if trying to keep calm. Then he looks at you with a look of exasperation and desire. "It’s not enough, is it?" mumbles. "Do you have to keep teasing me?"

"Where else is the fun?" you answer, with a smile that you know makes him crazy.

And without giving you time to react, Jude moves in an instant. His strong hands grab you by the waist, lifting you from the ground. A little jolt escapes you, but the beat of your heart accelerates when its eyes, dark and intense, are a few centimeters from yours.

"You know I can’t stand you when you do that, right?" she whispers in a low tone, her lips close by. Before you can answer, his lips meet yours in a deep, hungry kiss that leaves you breathless.

He holds you tightly in his arms, lifting you up like a feather. Your hands cling to his back as the kiss intensifies, and you feel the energy between you two grow, as if nothing in the world could separate you.

Slowly, she comes off your lips, her breath heavy, while still looking at you with that mix of anger and desire to throw you on the couch.

You try to get up but he blocks you. "No honey I have to make you understand that this attitude is not right".

And there you were lying on the couch, screaming and moaning as Jude made you come with his clever tongue for the fourth time. "Jude please" you whispered to him no longer being able to bear this pleasure but Jude seemed not to care.

"Come on y/n I know you can take two more," she said and then focused back on your weak pussy as she licked it and sucked it like a hungry man.

You tried to pull off but Jude blocked your hips more strongly "try to pull off again and I will keep on until you pass out" threatened you and you moaned as good as he wanted.

You put your hands on her hair to pull them, making both groan as she tapped you in the pussy and made you come for the fifth time. "Fuck Jude" you murmured softly and couldn’t speak anymore while he licked your juices and kept sucking you and eating your pussy.

Jude inserted a finger in while she alternated her licking with her fingers and continued to lick even more and you screamed and jumped carrying your pussy more into his mouth. You started screaming when you felt how Jude’s tongue was working on you and you felt too much pleasure.

"You say you’re sorry for how you behaved and I stop it" she said again with her mouth glued to your pussy and you moaned while feeling the vibrations. "Sorry I didn’t mean to act bad" you said crying feeling another orgasm coming.

"I promise I’ll be a good girl" you continued. Jude pulled your mouth off your pussy and smiled as he slapped your pussy and chuckled at how wet it was. "Jude please" you said to him as he kept making you moan with slaps on your pussy.

He put his tongue back in your pussy and you squirted it on his face and he chuckled satisfied while he had his face dirty with your juices and licked them then moaning. "So sweet, darling," she said as she looked at you.

[iloveacaibowls111]

A Love Unborn

synopsis: sequel to Wifey Material, angst with hurt comfort.

TW: Miscarriage is mentioned throughout (not described in extreme detail)

A/N: Once again like the previous post I got heavily inspired by Charlotte York as I had just watched the SATC episode where she unfortunately miscarriages. I even referenced the Tiffany baby rattle ☹️.

As you sat on the toilet, you couldn’t bear to turn over the pregnancy test on the sink. You and Nanami had been trying for a baby for about 2 months now and so far there were no apparent fruits of your labour. You were beginning to lose hope when your period was gone for 2 weeks. So, you did the sensible thing and dragged one of your good friends, Nicole, out and to buy a pregnancy test with you.

“What if I’m not?” You anxiously ask, finger repeatedly tapping the pregnancy test box.

“What if you are?” Nicole replied, taking the box away from your anxious hands. “And if you’re not, that’s okay. It’s normal. You are 26, not 56. I’m sure you have tons of eggs left waiting for sperm to fill them up.”

“Ew, don’t say that.” You laugh. “But you’re right.” 

Nicole took your arm and dragged you to the pharmacy counter. She gave you a slight hug, reiterating her support for you. 

———

Your heart was pounding in your chest as the two minutes slowly took place. Nanami was at work but he had promised you that when you got the news you would call him straight away. As the timer on your phone blared out, you took a deep breath and slowly reached out for the test. With shaking hands, you picked it up and slowly brought it in front of you. Now, your whole body was pretty much shaking and there was a part of you that didn’t want to turn over the test, didn’t want to come in terms with the fact that you were not pregnant, again. 

You can do this, you thought to yourself before you finally turned it around. Your eyes immediately saw the two lines, clear as a summer’s day. You screamed in exhilaration, jumping up and down joyfully. You couldn’t believe it. You couldn’t believe it. A surge of joy and disbelief washed over you as you stared at the test, double-checking the two unmistakable lines that confirmed it. Tears pricked your eyes, and your hands flew to your mouth as you tried to hold back the rush of emotions. You had imagined this moment so many times, but nothing prepared you for the overwhelming wave of happiness now that it was real.

You grabbed your phone with trembling fingers, scrolling to Nanami’s number. You held your breath as the phone rang, heartbeat thumping in anticipation. When he picked up, his warm, familiar voice instantly made you feel at ease.

“Hey, love,” he said, his tone instantly comforting. “Everything okay? Did you take the test?”

“Yes,” you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper, already thick with emotion.

There was a pause as he held his breath, waiting. “And…?” His voice softened, a mix of hope and gentle anticipation.

You could feel your heart swelling with happiness as you spoke, “It’s positive, Nanami. I’m pregnant!” The words were full of joy, like they couldn’t wait to tumble out.

You heard him inhale sharply, a stunned silence on the other end as he absorbed the news. Then, a quiet, relieved laugh escaped him. “We did it,” he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. “We’re going to be parents.”

“Yes, we’re really going to be parents,” you said, tears spilling down your cheeks as you laughed, the joy bubbling up in both of you. “It actually happened.”

“I can’t believe it,” he said, his voice low, almost reverent. “I knew we were hoping, but… hearing you say it out loud—this feels incredible.” He paused, and you could hear the soft emotion in his voice. “Thank you, my love, for making this dream come true with me.”

The two of you shared a moment of silent wonder on the phone, both overwhelmed by the reality of what lay ahead. You could practically feel his warmth through the line, his hand reaching out for yours in spirit, holding on as the reality of this new adventure took hold. After a moment, he spoke, his tone warm and full of love. “I’ll be home as soon as I can. We need to celebrate this together.”

———

When Nanami finally came through the door later, he was practically glowing with happiness, his face breaking into a wide smile the moment he saw you. Without a word, he crossed the room, pulling you close and holding you tightly. After a moment, he leaned back, one hand drifting to your stomach as he met your eyes, his gaze full of warmth and quiet joy.

“This is it,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe. “Our family is beginning.”

You placed your hand over his, feeling a shared surge of excitement and tenderness. “It’s really happening, Nanami. We’re going to be parents.”

His smile softened, and he bent down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Thank you for everything. I can’t wait to go through this journey with you.”

“I have a surprise for you…” Nanami began, reaching behind his back to produce a small blue box wrapped with a white bow. His gaze softened as he held it out to you. “I bought this when we first decided on having a baby.”

Your heart fluttered as you took the box from his hands, carefully untying the bow. Inside was a beautiful Tiffany baby rattle, gleaming and elegant. It looked just like the one Charlotte had in SATC.

“Kento! It’s just like Charlotte York’s!” you exclaimed, a mix of joy and nostalgia filling your voice. “I love it.”

Nanami’s smile warmed, his eyes holding a gentle pride as he watched your reaction. Wrapped in his arms, you could not wait for the future where your little family was just a little bigger.

———

A month later, you and Nanami had already begun planning for the baby.  The spare room, which had once served as your closet overflow space, was slowly being transformed into a nursery. 

“Pastel yellow for the walls, please. We don’t know the gender yet!” You inform the painter who just gave you a caring smile. You felt almost giddy with joy from the past month. Every evening, Nanami and you would sit together, pouring over lists of essentials, talking about baby names, and picturing what life would be like as parents. 

As you left the painter to begin painting the walls, you suddenly felt a sharp pang in your stomach. You suddenly felt uneasiness in your stomach. The sharp pang brought you to a standstill, your hand instinctively moving to cradle your stomach. You took a shaky breath, trying to convince yourself it was nothing—just an ordinary cramp, something minor. But the feeling lingered, gnawing and unsettling, and your heart sank as worry took root.

Nanami was at work, so you texted him quickly, keeping it light: “Feeling a bit off, but I’m sure it’s fine.” You didn't want to alarm him, and part of you wanted to believe it was nothing to worry about. But when the pain returned, sharper this time, you found yourself reaching for your phone again, and before you knew it, you were calling him.

“Hey,” he answered, his voice immediately shifting to concern. “What’s wrong?”

You hesitated, not wanting to voice the fear building inside of you. “I… I think something might be wrong,” you whispered, the words tasting bitter and strange. “Can you come home?”

He promised he’d be there as soon as possible, and you could hear the worry in his voice even as he tried to stay calm for your sake. Waiting for him felt endless, each second stretching longer as the uneasiness grew into dread. You wanted to believe that everything was fine, that it was just your mind playing tricks on you.

———

When Nanami finally arrived, he rushed to your side, taking one look at you before pulling you into his arms. “Let’s go,” he said softly, guiding you to the car, his hand firmly in yours the entire time. The drive to the hospital was quiet, tense. He kept glancing over at you, giving your hand small, reassuring squeezes, his jaw tight, though he kept his worry hidden as best he could.

At the hospital, things happened too quickly and yet painfully slow—machines, concerned faces, hushed voices. They asked you questions, too many questions, and you barely had the energy to answer. All you could feel was the coldness of the room, the heaviness pressing in on you. Nanami held your hand the entire time, his presence grounding you as you waited, desperate for answers, but terrified of what they might say.

When the doctor finally spoke, her voice gentle and filled with the kind of sympathy you’d hoped you’d never have to hear, the words barely registered at first. “I’m so sorry… but unfortunately, you’ve lost the baby.” Her voice was soft, but the words struck like a hammer, shattering the fragile hope you’d clung to.

You stared at her, numb, unable to comprehend what she was saying. Beside you, Nanami’s grip tightened on your hand, his face pale as he absorbed the news, his eyes brimming with the same disbelief, the same anguish that you felt. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but no words came out. Instead, he simply pulled you close, holding you tightly as you both fell apart.

———

Back home, the apartment felt different—empty, echoing with a silence that seemed to mock the joy and laughter that had filled it just days before. The room that had started becoming a nursery now felt haunting, a reminder of the life you’d imagined, a future that had vanished before it had even truly begun. You stood in the doorway, staring at the freshly painted yellow walls, feeling like a stranger in a place that had once held so much hope.

“Well, I guess there was no need to pay the painter to do the walls that colour. ” You said, your voice strained. 

Nanami wrapped his arms around you from behind, his face buried in your shoulder as he whispered, “I’m so sorry… I wish I could take this pain away from you.”

You reached up, placing your hand over his, tears spilling down your cheeks. “I wanted this so much,” you choked out, your voice cracking. “I wanted to give us a family. I wanted—” Your words faltered, lost in the ache that seemed to consume every part of you.

He turned you around to face him, his own eyes red-rimmed, tears slipping silently down his cheeks. “It’s not your fault,” he said, his voice filled with a fierce, quiet determination. 

But you couldn’t bear to look at him. “But it is,” you choked out, pulling back, the weight of guilt pressing down on you. “I couldn’t do the one thing I was supposed to do. I couldn’t give us a baby.” Your voice broke, and the words spilled out, raw and painful. You turned away from his reach, feeling a need to retreat, to let the numbness consume you. “I’m… I’m going to bed,” you murmured, barely recognising your own voice.

“Y/N…” Nanami called out, walking towards you.

“Please.” You cried out, “I need to be alone right now.”

———

The next few days were a blur. People came by, offering condolences, leaving flowers, cards, and soft words meant to soothe. But none of it reached you. Nothing could fill the empty hole in your heart. You felt as if you’d never be whole again, as if nothing could bring colour back into your world.

“She hasn’t left the bedroom in three days,” Nanami said quietly in the kitchen, his voice heavy with worry. His gaze lingered on the closed door of your bedroom. “There’s nothing I can say or do to get her out.”

Gojo, Geto, Shoko, and Utahime exchanged worried glances from where they sat in the living room, concern etched deeply on their faces. After a moment, Utahime took a breath and nodded, determination sparking in her eyes. “Let us try,” she said, standing up and urging Shoko to follow her.

They approached your bedroom door, knocking softly before opening it just a crack. Inside, they found you lying motionless on the bed, staring blankly into the dim shadows. You hadn’t touched your phone, hadn’t moved much at all. Even the warmth of your blankets felt oppressive, weighing you down like a heavy fog.

“Can we come in?” Utahime asked gently, her voice a soft, steady presence.

You didn’t respond, and the silence stretched on, but they took it as permission, quietly entering and sitting down on either side of the bed. Shoko rested a comforting hand on your shoulder, while Utahime sat beside you, a silent, patient presence.

“Everyone’s really worried about you,” Shoko murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t have to go through this alone, you know.”

You swallowed, throat tight, their words stirring something deep within you—a tangled knot of grief and shame. “I just… I don’t know how to get past this,” you admitted, your voice hoarse.

Utahime’s expression softened as she reached over, taking your hand in hers. “No one’s expecting you to be ‘over it,’” she said gently. “But shutting us out, pushing everyone away… it’s only going to make it harder.”

The weight of her words pressed on you, but you shook your head slowly, retreating further into yourself. “I’m sorry… I just can’t.”

Seeing your hesitation, Shoko and Utahime exchanged a glance. They gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze, a reminder of their presence, and eventually retreated, leaving you alone in the quiet.

Later, Gojo and Geto took their turn, determined to draw you out of the darkness that had swallowed you. They knocked lightly and entered, each trying to bring a sense of comfort and normalcy with them. Gojo made a few jokes, his tone soft but hopeful, while Geto spoke quietly, sharing small memories and moments that they thought might bring you some solace.

But no matter what they tried, you remained closed off, your eyes fixed on the floor, barely responding. Nothing they said seemed to reach you, as if you were wrapped in an impenetrable cocoon of sorrow.

Finally, Gojo sighed, his usual confidence softened by helplessness. “We’re here whenever you’re ready,” he said gently, his eyes searching your face. “Just… don’t shut us out forever, alright?”

You didn’t respond, but his words echoed in the silence as they quietly left, the room growing colder and quieter in their absence.

———

A few days later, Nanami sat across from you in the quiet of the living room, his formal suit neatly pressed, though his face was creased with hesitation. He had been invited to a gala event for his company, but he seemed reluctant to leave, his gaze drifting back to you, worry etched in his eyes.

“I don’t have to go,” he said softly, his hand resting on yours. “I can stay here with you.”

“No, please go.” You smile faintly, touching his hand. 

He stared at you for a while, trying to make out what you were thinking. “Fine. But text me throughout the night, so I know you’re okay.” He stood up trying to find his tie. 

You managed a faint nod, only half hearing him. Your eyes had caught on something across the room—the Tiffany baby rattle, resting on a shelf. The very one Nanami had surprised you with all those weeks ago. It was a quiet symbol of a future you’d both dreamed of, a future that felt so close, once.

Your chest tightened as you stared at the toy, a flood of emotions rushing in—grief, yes, but something else as well. A part of you ached to hold onto the sorrow, to stay hidden away from the world. But looking at the tiny rattle, you felt an unexpected warmth stir within you. The memory of that hope, that dream, wasn’t gone. It wasn’t erased.

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of your grief soften, just enough for you to breathe without it pressing down on you. And as you exhaled, something inside you whispered that maybe it was time to step forward, even if it felt impossible. You weren’t ready to let go completely, but you could try to live with the memory, rather than solely in the grief of it.

As you peered over at Nanami who had changed into his white shirt and was standing opposite a mirror, tying his tie. You couldn’t help but feel a surge of love and affection. He was your husband, for better or for worse. 

“I think…” you began, surprising even yourself with the words. You looked up at Nanami, who was watching you with a mix of worry and gentle encouragement. “I think I want to go with you.”

He blinked, clearly taken aback, but a small, hopeful smile spread across his face. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, a tiny, tentative smile pulling at your lips. “I don’t want to be alone tonight. I… I think I need to try.”

Nanami’s relief was palpable as he took your hand, squeezing it warmly. Without another word, he guided you to your room, gently setting out a gown you’d worn before—a piece that made you feel elegant, strong. You took your time, steadying yourself as you got ready, every small step a quiet victory.

By the time you emerged, Nanami’s smile had widened, his pride evident as he took in the sight of you. He offered you his arm, and you took it, feeling a newfound strength, a fragile but determined spark within you.

As you left together, you felt, for the first time, a sliver of hope breaking through the clouds.

[reds-skull]

The frames of the video from the comic in the previous post. I experimented a lot with this, it was really fun to work with this chunky brush I found. Also the first time I draw the Reaper of Destruction as it was before Lumity!

More comments under the cut+a frame I ended up scrapping!

I'll go by order of appearance, because it's basically a chronological retelling of the events of part 1.

So the first frame is the least fancy because it was the first and I didn't nail down a style for this yet lol. It shows Ghost and Soap's first true meeting, in chapter 1, where Ghost helps Soap when he gets impaled by a rebar.

The second frame jumps to chapter 8, when Ghost first put Soap in Limbo. The triangle around them was a later addition, taken from the next frame. I love this scene, it's so fun to see it drawn out now :)

The third frame was the most important one to nail the style. I painted a whole frame, only to come back to it the next day and restart from almost 0.

This is the original third frame

They both show the same event - chapter 21, the second time Soap is thrown into Limbo. The difference is, one shows a more literal image of what happened, and the other is more symbolic.

And by now I think you know how much I love symbolism lol

What also bothered me with the scraped painting is that the composition isn't central, and the entire pose, while more dynamic, isn't fitting the mural feel the rest has.

There's an even earlier version of the scrapped painting, with Soap's face, but nowhere else there are faces in these series, so I went wild with it and covered it with flames. He had them behind him already, as the description of this scene in the fic says Soap had a helo of fire behind him.

(also hated how Limbo's victims looked in the scrapped version like... ew lol)

There wasn't a real reason to add the circles around Soap. I just wanted to lean more heavily into the mural style. But I took that circle motif to the end, after that, and added it to Ghost as well, hence the triangle.

Soap has one skeletal hand, and one palm. That one is on purpose, to show he's hanging in between life and death.

The fourth frame is pretty self-explanatory, it shows the part in chapter 21 where Soap gets the dark marks on his forearm. If the colors look weird in that one, it's because I messed with them so much I couldn't tell if they look good anymore on not

The fifth frame shows another favorite moment of mine, the moment Ghost gets his marks, the white tear tracks, when he finally notices Soap fighting in the void.

The sixth frame is my favorite of the bunch. Soap and Ghost, the triangle and circle combined. The moment they killed Graves, Ghost in full control of his subjects, Soap with his sword of white fire and army of burning moths. They look so scary in this one I love them

The seventh frame shows Void and Destruction. Void was straight forward, I've drawn it a few times before, but I had to make a more detailed design for Destruction, and I only had the very first sketches I made for Revenant AU to go off of, as well as Lumity's design. Idk why I designed Lumity before Destruction, but that's how it is. I wanted Destruction melting, like it can't handle its own heat.

The eighth frame is of Void and Destruction combining. In the fic they had in-between states, it didn't look like this, but for the sake of the video I thought it'd be nicer to have a clear frame of them combining.

The ninth and last frame is of our beloved Lumity. Their design is a little more detailed than the drawing I made a while back. This frame is also the only one that interacts with the foreground, aka Makarov. I think he was jump-scared, don't know how much that comes across.

Damn I had a lot to write. Well, when given the opportunity to ramble...

[aka-indulgence]

Candlelit Dinner

Thank you @wolfbeestudio for the commission for dive computer! >u< Enjoy a short and sweet romantic fluff for you :>

(FS!Sans x GN!Reader)

You make the best of your anniversary night with your busy skeleton partner.

—————

You were cooking when your ever so busy boyfriend came home.

“How was the meeting?”

Sans sighed at the door, dressed to the nines in his royal guard outfit, carrying his work bag and a nondescript paper bag.

“OH, IT WAS NOTHING INTERESTING DARLING. JUST MORE POLICY MAKING WITH THE HUMANS. I KNOW THERE WERE REPORTERS AND WE WOULD MAKE A BRIEF TV APPEARANCE, BUT I DON’T UNDERSTAND WHY WE NEEDED TO BE IN CEREMONIAL GUARD GARB. ALPHYS CERTAINLY DIDN’T ENJOY IT- BUT WHO AM I TO COMPLAIN WHEN I GET TO DRESS TO OVERKILL?”

You take one look at the well-dressed skeleton and suppress what would’ve been an embarrassing high-pitched sound. You clear your throat.

“Y-yeah, you’ve always looked your best in that thing,”

“THIS OUTFIT… ‘DOING THINGS TO YOU’ IS CERTAINLY A WELCOME ADDITION,” Sans teases, bounding towards you.

Gloved claws slowly close around your shoulder, and you try your best not to show the blush on your face- though you end up failing when the ever so romantic skeleton slow kisses you on the jaw from behind. Even worse, you shudder involuntarily, and the man has the gall to chuckle against your neck.

“Good Evening Darling. What’re You Cooking?”

You try to hide your fluster with a giggle and you try to joke, “C-can’t you see what I’m making? Steak.”

“HOW EXQUISITE. IT SMELLS DIVINE. WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH THE SAUCE?”

“Just trying a new recipe. I’ll tell you the secrets later,”

“KEEPING SECRETS FROM ME? I SUPPOSE WAITING IS A SHORT PRICE TO PAY,” he bluffs sighing in disappointment. “FAR IT BE FROM ME TO REFUSE SUCH A DELICIOUS MEAL, BUT I MUST ASK… ON WHAT OCCASION ARE YOU COOKING STEAK?”

Normally, you would blow a raspberry and say do I need a reason to want steak? But you’re caught off guard for a moment- did he really forget? Sans never forgets important dates.

“Wait, really?” You turn to him, “it’s… our anniversary.”

“IS THAT SO? I THOUGHT YOU HAD FORGOTTEN. YOU DIDN’T MAKE A SPECIAL BREAKFAST FOR ME THIS MORNING.”

Oh. Of course he remembered.

“What!! You left at six in the morning! Also that’s why I’m making us steak right now!” You gesture wildly at your cooking, though you’re laughing as you’re pretending to be angry.

Sans laughs along with you. “I’M ONLY TEASING YOU DARLING. I DO HAVE TO APOLOGIZE THAT I COULDN’T RESERVE THE DAY FOR JUST THE TWO OF US. UNFORTUNATELY A ‘LOVER’S ANNIVERSARY’ ISN’T A REASON I CAN USE TO ESCAPE MONSTER-HUMAN MEETINGS.”

“You should complain to Toriel!” You suggested, “besides, we’re a monster-human couple, we’re already representing monster-human relationships. Wouldn’t that be enough?”

“AND HAVE MY SKULL REMOVED FROM MY SPINE? NO THANK YOU. NOT TO WORRY HOWEVER, I AM NOW HERE TO AID IN YOUR COOKING.”

“Wh- are you saying my cooking’s bad?”

“GOOD HEAVENS, WHAT DO YOU TAKE ME FOR HUMAN? AFTER I JUST COMPLIMENTED THE SMELL TOO. CAN’T A LOVING PARTNER HELP YOU IN MAKING THE FRIES?”

You pressed your lips together. “Oh. Um. Yeah, fries sound good…”

*****

Cooking with Sans was always nice. He liked to do it alone (a few times Papyrus tried to ‘contribute’ with his condiments got him yelled out of the kitchen), but you seem to be the exception. Eventually, you have two plates of steak, fries, and assortment of vegetables. The glaze you found online had been a success, and it made you feel like a five-star chef.

You pick up your plate and move towards the dining table, but Sans puts his hand on your shoulder.

“I HAVE A BETTER LOCATION IN MIND.” he smirks.

“Oh yeah? Where, the couch?” You tease, but Sans just shakes his head, handing you your jacket.

“TAKE THIS WITH YOU,”

“My jacket? But wh-”

In a blink, you’re no longer in the kitchen. You were on top of a building you don’t recognize with beautiful twirly railings. The full moon is high in the sky, looking down on the both of you.

“Where are-?”

The culprit chuckles, taking your plate away from your frozen hands and places them on a table decorated with a cloth. With a wave of his hand a flame appears on a candle. Seating for two, he pulls out a chair for you.

“Sans…” you say with awe, walking over to your chair like you were dreaming. “How did you…?”

“I HAD TIME AFTER OUR MEETING. THIS WAS ONE OF THE BEST PLACES TO SEE THE NIGHT SKY IN THE CITY WITHOUT IT BEING SOME OVERCROWDED CASH-GRAB AREA. I MAY NOT HAVE RESERVED THE DAY FOR US, BUT I CAN CERTAINLY RESERVE THE NIGHT.”

He takes the nondescript bag from earlier and pulls out… a wine bottle. Cabernet Sauvignon, to be exact.

“Oh Sans… this is lovely,”

He responds by pulling the cork off, pouring you the perfect amount for swirling.

“AM I A WONDERFUL PARTNER OR NOT?” He raises his brow at you as he pours himself a glass.

“Yes, yes you are.” you roll your eyes at him, affectionately.

“AND OF COURSE YOUR COOKING IS WONDERFUL. I WAS GOING TO COOK SOMETHING MYSELF- BUT IT TURNED OUT YOU WERE ALREADY ON IT. YOU ARE MY PERFECT PARTNER, (Y/N). I LOVE YOU,”

You blush as he takes your hand in both of his and brings it to his mouth, covering your mouth while your cheeks turn red. “I love you too, Sans.”

He kisses your knuckles.

“HAPPY ANNIVERSARY, DARLING.”

[gabessquishytum]

Feeling very annoyed about my joint pain right now so what better way to deal with it than projecting my problems onto Dream?

So Dream is hypermobile, and he's been dating Hob for a little while. With Hob, he doesn't feel like he complains too much, he doesn't feel like he's a burden. He doesn't feel like he has to hide the pain and frustration he has to deal with because of his body. As a child he was often told that he was faking injury to get out of doing things he didn't want to do. Often he was told just to exercise more. As he got older, he was told that he was giving up on himself and that he should just push though the pain (despite the fact that when you're hypermobile, sometimes pushing though the pain now means needing joint replacements in the future). But with Hob, his problems are always taken seriously, his pain is believed and he's never infantilized for it. Hob isn't disgusted by his body doing weird things, his reaction to Dream hyperextending something on purpose isn't "put that away that's gross" it's "you'll regret that tomorrow"

Dream has definitely subluxed his jaw while giving Hob blow jobs before. After, because you know Dream wouldn't stop sex for something as trivial as a subluxation, Hob heats up a rice bag and massages Dream's face.

On his bad days, sometimes Hob will stay home from work just to comfort and be there for him. It's care like he's known from no other person ever in his life and he almost certainly cries about how lucky he is (usually in Hob's arms) at least once a week

Idk where exactly I'm going with this. But I'm just spinning the concept of hypermobile!Dream getting comfort and acceptance from Hob in my head. Just Dream getting the comfort I wish I had in my life.

Oh anon, joint pain is so horrible. I'm sorry you're going through it. I'm also in the hypermobile club, so I feel you. I really do.

Dream finds it hard to accept that this will be his life forever, you know? There's no cure for his condition, only management. He spent a lot of time pretending that there was nothing wrong, and ended up hurting himself. He has so many regrets... but knowing that he also gets to spend the rest of his life with Hob makes it almost bearable. Hob has slowly adjusted their shared home to be hypermobile-friendly, putting in all the accommodations that Dream has denied himself over the years: a bath chair, perching stools in the kitchen, banisters on the staircases, even a wedge for their bed so Dream can prop himself up when he's feeling bad enough to be bedbound.

Hob knows Dream’s body better than his own. When Dream hyperextends his knees, Hob is the one to notice and give him a gentle nudge. When he's standing and hanging off his joints and straining them, Hob grabs him a chair so he can sit down instead. When he needs his ring splints, it's usually Hob who fetches and puts them on for him. Dream often feels like a burden, but Hob tries to explain that all of these things aren't chores for him. They're just intuitive, easy acts of love. Hob WANTS to be Dream’s support.

Sex is a lot easier with Hob than it ever was with past partners. There's k-tape and splints and joint braces, which Hob treats with the same reverence he'd usually save for lingerie. Dream, naked, clad only in wrist splints and k-tape, is the most beautiful thing in the world to Hob. Cause he knows that Dream isn't going to get hurt while they make wild and glorious love.

They've definitely had wheelchair sex. Hob has knelt between Dream’s slightly spread legs and sucked his cock. Fortunately the brakes were on, or Dream might have gone rolling across the room from the force of his orgasm. Hob is very good with his mouth.

All in all: life is really really hard, but it's also good. And Hob makes it all worth it by being there and being himself. Dream couldn't love him any more if he tried.

[flower-boi16]

I personally disagree with the claims that Stolas is a coercive rapist. I don't want to start an argument I just want to show you my perspective, alright here we go.

Let's start at Harvest Moon Festival: 'When this happens, it's not really something I fuss about...' and 'Well, I'm not a fan of someone I offered a job to about to off my easiest lengthy ticket to Earth behind my back.' Notice how Blitz says 'easiest lengthy ticket' here, not 'only ticket', and Blitz knows about Asmodean Crystals, as evidenced by Unhappy Campers where he forces someone to use it to create a portal to the living world, so the Grimoire was never the only option Blitz could've used to run I.M.P. Sure losing the grimoire would've disrupted business for a bit, but again, it was never Blitz's only option. It's also been confirmed in Ghostfuckers that I.M.P used to assassin jobs in Hell before Blitz got the Grimoire from Stolas, I.M.P was running fine without the Grimoire, if Blitz couldn't get his hands on the Grimoire or the Asmodeun Crystal he and his could always just run missions in Hell, so the coercion argument already falls flat there, but let's beat it up a bit further shall we?

Now let's look at Ozzies, at the ending of it Stolas never pressures or forces Blitz into having sex with him or quote 'We could talk, or… watch a movie, or… maybe cuddle?', Blitz turns Stolas down here, and Stolas never forces or pressures Blitz into doing said things with him, and you know what this also proves? It proves that Blitz has always the self-agency to tell Stolas 'no I don't want to fuck you', which also shows that Blitz actually wanted to have sex with Stolas, which we can prove by the text messages Stolas and Blitz had after Ozzie's.

The text messages at the end of Western Energy show that Stolas is actively giving Blitz the option to not fuck him, which also tells us that Blitz always had the option to tell Stolas no, and hell, we can see in the All 2 U song that Blitz turned down Stolas most likely asking Blitz to stay after the sex, proving even further Blitz always had the self-agency to tell Stolas no, which shows that Blitz wanted to have sex with Stolas.

And I'm not even counting everything about what happened in Full Moon. Blitz literally sings about how much he enjoys sex with Stolas, spends the whole day buying things to use on Stolas, begged for Stolas to keep the deal, said multiple times about how much the deal is something he enjoyed and wanted to keep, and told Loona and M&M about how Stolas never forced anything on him which lead to months without intimacy between them. Where is the coercion??? Simply, it's not there.

Now let's look at Apology Tour, Blitz wants the arrangement back, to fuck Stolas again. Which tells us something that the people peddling the nonsense 'Stolas is a rapist' argument entirely ignore, Blitz is the one unhappy with the arrangement ending, not Stolas, Blitz.

Also, Blitz has the Asmodeun Crystal by this point, He could've easily have just told Stolas to fuck off and leave if he was truly being coerced and raped by him, but he chooses to stay because at this point he thinks this gesture is a farewell gift from Stolas, and it's been made very clear that Blitz has strong feelings for Stolas by this point despite his self-hatred, that he doesn't want to lose Stolas, which also helps to further prove that Blitz wanted to have sex with Stolas out of his entire free will.

Blitz having sex with Stolas was a way for Blitz to be close to Stolas without having to be vulnerable, and when Stolas gets rid of the arrangement Blitz is scared because it would force Blitz to be vulnerable towards Stolas.

Is all of this really the behavior of a person who felt coerced into sex he didn't want to have? Because I think it's pretty clear that Blitz at no point felt coerced into having sex with Stolas, and the people that claim otherwise I have good grounds to believe aren't even watching the same show anymore.

.....sigh...

...before I start this long rant post I just want to say I'm grateful that your being civil in this ask. I'm glad you chose to state your reasoning rather than being made because I critisizied your favourite funny demon show.

However, I don't agree with any of this reasoning. There's a lot to break down here so I'll just split this post into two sections:

1. Stolitz IS Coercian, and Here's Why

So you start off by bringing up what Blitz says in The Harvest Moon Festival and how the grimoire isn't Blitz's only option for being able to do his job. That is true but...it doesn't change the fact that Stolas is threatening to take away an item that Blitz needs in order for his buisness to function in order to force Blitz into having consent with him, and so Blitz woulden't have that much of a choice.

Yes he could have gotten an Asmodean crystal but the fact he never did that in the first place is a plot hole in it of itself. And, if anything, the presence of other options just makes Stolas look even worse; Stolas could have just lent the book to Blitz in secret, or he could have just given Blitz the Asmodean crystal and move on with his day, but no, Stolas chose the option to put Blitz in a situation where Blitz HAD to consent to him or he'll lose the one thing he needs for his job.

And, Blitz fully believes the book to be his only option. The Full Moon literally has Blitz begging and pleading for Stolas to not end the deal because he needs the book. He would not have this reaction if he knew of other options, therefore he thinks that the book is his only real option (which makes very little sense but we'll just roll with it since that's what the show is presenting to us).

And then there's my last point which is Murder Family, the episode where Stolas first makes the deal with Blitz. This is the one scene people point to when they call Blitz corcian, and, there's a reason for that.

Stolas literally called Blitz when he was being chased by a lunatic with a shot gun. Blitz only consented because he was in an emotionally stressful state of mind and did not have any time to actually process or think about the deal, NOT because he was into having sex with Stolas, which makes the "Stolitz isn't coercian because Blitz had a choice" argument fall flat, because in the moment of the deal he didn't.

And even if he wasn't in a stressful emotional state, he is still being put in a situation where he HAS to consent or he'll lose the one thing he needs for his job by someone with much more power than him, and again, Blitz DOES THINK that the grimoire is his one option. Even if Blitz never felt coerced...he still was coerced. There isn't much changing that. Someone can say they weren't stabbed but they were still stabbed, someone can say they were SA'd but were still SA'd. This doesn't change shit.

It is deffiently true that there are hints for Blitz having affection for Stolas though, but the thing is, that makes ABSOLUTELY NO SENSE. Why? Well, simple.

2. Blitz has NO REASON to Love Stolas (And Here's Why)

Yes. You read that title correctly. Blitz should not have ANY FORM of affection towards Stolas what so ever. If anything, he has every reason to dislike him.

Let's actually look at what Stolas has done to Blitz (both the good and bad).

THE GOOD:

Did some small nice things to Blitz like giving him gifts, laughing at his jokes, and generally showing that he did have some level of care for him...which were all off-screen....

...

...

......?

...........?

..................??????????

Ya...so....that's kind of it. And now...

THE BAD:

Forcing Blitz to consent to a deal where he HAD to consent with him or he will lose his job

Belittling, dehumanizing, and constantly invading Blitz's boundries

Flirting with Blitz even when he explicitly tells him that he's uncomfortable

Not taking Blitz's attempts at setting up boundries seriously

Ya. So. I rest my case. There is no reason for Blitz to have any form of affection or to want any form of affection out of Stolas given how Stolas has treated Blitz throughout the show; the few good things Stolas does for Blitz that we are supposed to see as the reasons for why Blitz would fall in love with him fall flat because not only are they off-screen, they also don't make up for the bad.

Sure, you could say that Blitz doesn't hold any of this against Stolas but...he should. He should be mad over Stolas constantly invading his boundries even when he tells him no, he should be mad over the deal, and he should be mad over Stolas constantly make him uncomfortable.

Yet, we are supposed to believe that Blitz has feelings for Stolas despite the fact he has no reason to. Also, if Stolas apperently always cared about Blitz's boundries...than explain Loo Loo Land. Explain why Stolas continued flirting with Blitz constantly even when he could clearly see that Blitz was uncomfortable. Explain why he consistantly dehumanized Blitz over the course of the show by treating him like a sex object. Explain why Stolas continued calling Blitz pet names in The Harvest Moon Festival in front of a whole crowd of people even when Blitz was, once again, annoyed and uncomfortable.

And you can't use the "Oh Stolas didn't know what he was doing was wrong/He meant well" because the fact that Stolas knows about the basic laws of consent means that he knew EXACTLY what he was doing in all of these scenes. He should reconized Blitz being uncomfortable when ever he made his advancements if he really cared about Blitz's consent, but, even then, he never did for some reason until now.

So I don't buy the idea that the deal was a way for Blitz to have sex with Stolas without being vulnerable because A. He did not consent to it willingly and B. There is no believable reason for why Blitz would have genuine feelings for Stolas after how we've seen Stolas treat him (and, being honest, Stolas shouldn't love Blitz either).

If you want me to believe that these two would ever fall in love, actually show scenes developing believable chemistry between them so I can see why they would love each other. For whatever reason Blitz may have to love Stolas, that reason should have been shown across the series rather than being kept on the back burner. It doesn't make sense for Blitz to love Stolas, sorry, but you can't convince that Blitz has any reason to fall in love with him.

(Also, a few things; I'm pretty sure what the writers were trying to commuinicate with the full moon scene was that Blitz was trying to process Stolas' desicion to give him the crystal since he never experinced any kind of kindess like this before or something like that, so the argument that Blitz reacted the way he did because he loved Stolas falls flat)

3. Conclusion

Ya. So uh. I don't agree with any of this shit. I'm sorry but there's no defending this relationship lol. It's a complete mess of bad writting and I don't think you can change my mind on that. I could go into more detail but...I think I've said all I needed to say.

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow part 47

ao3 link| part 1 . . . part 44, part 45, part 46

The days pass by in a blur. Each day, the calendar marks a day closer to the fourth. Closer to the day that haunts him. The day that marks his mistake. His harmless curiosity that was so far from that, harmless. It was harmful. Where he dragged two people who didn’t need to know the secrets of Hawkins into his mess. And one person who jumps in front of danger like it can’t hurt him back into it again.

Dustin was fated to this life. When Will went missing, there was no question about it. He would always be involved in this. But Steve, Robin, Erica, they didn’t deserve to be dragged down with him.

There’s a letter on his desk from Susie, currently thriving at Camp Nowhere. Angry at him for breaking his promised return. Deciding to stay here instead of going back and spending time with her. He gave her the excuse he could, that something happened, and he couldn’t go. There was too much he needed to do here. People he couldn’t leave.

He couldn’t tell her why. She was far enough away that she never needed to know about this. Finally, Dustin could keep someone safe. Ignorant. Innocent. She didn’t have to know the darkest part of his life. He loved that for her.

It didn’t feel good, to keep a secret from her. But it was necessary.

The doorbell rings. Dustin stares at the ceiling for a few moments, hoping they’ll just go away. But the bell persists. Whoever is there pressing the button so fast, it doesn’t even stop ringing before getting cut off and starting over again.

Dustin groans. Standing and going to the door.

“Finally,” Max complains when she pushes herself through the door, Lucas following after her. “What took you so long?”

He rolls his eyes. “I didn’t think anyone was coming over today.” The annoyance is clear in his tone.

Really, he didn’t want to do anything today. His bed was so comfortable when he woke up this morning, he barely wanted to leave it. Eyes fixed to the ceiling when they weren’t closed, feigning sleep. Body feeling weighed down. Impossible to move.

Max wheels herself into his living room, transferring to the couch. Clear that she isn’t leaving. Lucas looks at Dustin expectantly. Like he’s waiting for him to move.

Moving takes too much energy. All he wants to do is lie back down.

“We brought a movie,” Lucas finally says. “Raiders of the Lost Ark.”

“I thought Max hated that movie.”

“I’m open to changing my opinion,” She calls out from the couch.

Lucas continues to look at him, with that worry sitting in his eyes. He’s trying to hide it, but fails. Dustin hates that look. He doesn’t deserve it. He can take care of himself, he has for this long. They didn’t need to do it for him.

His face must give away something he doesn’t realize, because Lucas nods and goes to put the movie in before Dustin can protest. Gesturing for him to sit on the couch next to Max. Refusing to start play, or God forbid sit down, before Dustin complies.

Like he’s waiting for Dustin to protest enough he’ll have to do something.

Dustin doesn’t give him a chance. Huffing out a breath before sitting on the middle of the couch. Only then does Lucas sit down next to him. Finding the remote on the coffee table and pressing play.

The opening credits roll, and Dustin forgets when the last time he’s watched this movie. It was one of his favorites since it came out. Replaying it so much he wore a hole into the VHS. It’s probably since then, he figures. Not having replaced it yet.

But the scenes play just as he remembers them. Like a comforting hug. Familiar warmth fills him, he didn’t realize how cold he was.

For some reason, he doesn’t know, tears start to form in his eyes. As the last scene of the movie ends, they start to roll down his cheeks.

He doesn’t hide it well; Max’s arms wrap around his shoulders in a hug. Her head leaning on his shoulder. Lucas mirrors her in his own way.

It hits him all at once why they’re here. With the movie he’s loved for years. Days away from one of the worst days of Dustin’s life. Of their lives. He hears Max sniffle. Hears Lucas’ breath hitch. They were all suffering from this in their own way, but they still showed up for him. They knew he needed this, even if he didn’t know that himself.

The sob breaks out of his chest without permission. Shaking his lungs. Their arms tightened around him.

“I’m sorry,” falls out of his mouth with a cry. “I’m so sorry.”

“I am too,” Lucas whispers.

Max sniffles again. “Me too.”

They sit there until the air calms. A light weight lifting off of Dustin’s chest. Letting him breathe just a little easier now.

He clears his throat, getting rid of the residual sobs. “Why are you guys sorry?”

Lucas shifts, pulling away from their hug. “Last summer, when you came back from camp, we were all wrapped up in our own shit. We didn’t know what you found, what you were doing. If we had just stayed on that hill longer, you wouldn’t have been the only one who heard the message. We could have gone through it together.”

Dustin was glad that they left him on the hill that day, in hindsight. That way it was just the four of them in that bunker. Less people to lose. But he’s right. It was the first time Dustin went through something completely without them. The core group. It was just him, Steve, a girl he barely knew, and a child who didn’t need to be brought into this.

“You’ve been really quiet lately,” Max whispers, sitting back upright. “I’ve noticed you pulling away, but I didn’t do anything about it. I should have made sure you were ok. So you didn’t isolate like I did. I should have let you know that I was here for you, no matter what. That you could talk to me.”

He didn’t realize he was pulling away. Or being quiet. Now that she says it, he knows what she means. The conversations he missed while sitting in the middle of them. The want to just lie down and stay there. Nothing even playing in the background. Just silence.

“We’re worried about you, dude.” The concern in Lucas’ voice is ripe. “We wanted to make sure you were ok.”

Dustin’s not ok. Not right now. Physically, he’s fine. But mentally, he’s all over the place. Flashbacks come in waves, nightmares keeping him from sleep that’s worth anything. He’s more terrified now than he was the entirety of that week. No adrenaline to mask the fear this time.

“How much has Erica told you about the bunker?” he asks, voice hollow.

“All of it. What she knew, anyway. I can’t imagine what it was like to be there.”

“It was awful.” Dustin’s never said that out loud before. After it happened, they all wanted to get away from it as fast as they could. They barely talked about it. There were other things to focus on. “I don’t even know what really happened to Steve and Robin. They never told me, but I could guess.”

“We’re making plans to get together that night,” Max says. “So we can be together for the fireworks.”

“I think that would be a really good idea.”

I feel odd posting this today, and I debated waiting until tomorrow to post it. But, this chapter I'm writing is giving me a lot of comfort, in a weird way. Seeing the community these guys have support each other, it reminds me of my friends, and we do the same. It is almost therapeutic to know that I am not alone in so many way. How, even in the darkest of times, there are people out there that love me, and we can walk through this together. I hope this brings you some much needed comfort, as it did to me.

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[carto0ncritter]

I just want to say that I personally disagree with the claims that Stolas is a coercive rapist. You don't have to agree with me. I just want to share my perspective. Alright, here we go.

Let's start at Harvest Moon Festival: 'When this happens, it's not really something I fuss about...' and 'Well, I'm not a fan of someone I offered a job to about to off my easiest lengthy ticket to Earth behind my back.' Notice how Blitz says 'easiest lengthy ticket' here, not 'only ticket', and Blitz knows about Asmodean Crystals, as evidenced by Unhappy Campers where he forces someone to use it to create a portal to the living world, so the Grimoire was never the only option Blitz could've used to run I.M.P. Sure losing the grimoire would've disrupted business for a bit, but again, it was never Blitz's only option. It's also been confirmed in Ghostfuckers that I.M.P used to assassin jobs in Hell before Blitz got the Grimoire from Stolas, I.M.P was running fine without the Grimoire, if Blitz couldn't get his hands on the Grimoire or the Asmodeun Crystal he and his could always just run missions in Hell, so the coercion argument already falls flat there, but let's beat it up a bit further shall we?

Now let's look at Ozzies, at the ending of it Stolas never pressures or forces Blitz into having sex with him or quote 'We could talk, or… watch a movie, or… maybe cuddle?', Blitz turns Stolas down here, and Stolas never forces or pressures Blitz into doing said things with him, and you know what this also proves? It proves that Blitz has always the self-agency to tell Stolas 'no I don't want to fuck you', which also shows that Blitz actually wanted to have sex with Stolas, which we can prove by the text messages Stolas and Blitz had after Ozzie's.

The text messages at the end of Western Energy show that Stolas is actively giving Blitz the option to not fuck him, which also tells us that Blitz always had the option to tell Stolas no, and hell, we can see in the All 2 U song that Blitz turned down Stolas most likely asking Blitz to stay after the sex, proving even further Blitz always had the self-agency to tell Stolas no, which shows that Blitz wanted to have sex with Stolas.

And I'm not even counting everything about what happened in Full Moon episode. Blitz literally sings about how much he enjoys sex with Stolas, spends the whole day buying things to use on Stolas, begged for Stolas to keep the deal, said multiple times about how much the deal is something he enjoyed and wanted to keep, and told Loona and M&M about how Stolas never forced anything on him which lead to months without intimacy between them. Where is the coercion??? Simply, it's not there.

Now let's look at Apology Tour, Blitz wants the arrangement back, to fuck Stolas again. Which tells us something that the people peddling the bullshit 'Stolas is a rapist' argument entirely ignore, Blitz is the one unhappy with the arrangement ending, not Stolas, Blitz.

Also, Blitz has the Asmodeun Crystal by this point, he could've easily have just told Stolas to fuck off and leave if he was truly being coerced and raped by him, but he chooses to stay because at this point he thinks this gesture is a farewell gift from Stolas, and it's been made very clear that Blitz has strong feelings for Stolas by this point despite his self-hatred, that he doesn't want to lose Stolas, which also helps to further prove that Blitz wanted to have sex with Stolas out of his entire free will.

Blitz having sex with Stolas was a way for Blitz to be close to Stolas without having to be vulnerable, and when Stolas gets rid of the arrangement Blitz is scared because it would force Blitz to be vulnerable towards Stolas.

Is all of this really the behavior of a person who felt coerced into sex he didn't want to have? Because I think it's pretty clear that Blitz at no point felt coerced into having sex with Stolas, and the people that claim otherwise I have good grounds to believe aren't even watching the same show anymore.

i think i can sum up everything you said here, from my pov, in one sentence: "A part of Blitz craved Stolas' "affection" and "interest" in him because he had never experienced true love before (+ all the trauma in his past really fucked him up when it comes to opening up his heart and recieveing love and not pushing people away), and pretty much got hooked to the "relationship" despite Stolas' gaslighting, name calling and manipulative tendencies"

long story short, blitz fell in love with his abuser and is unable to break free. symbolically, he cant break the chains

[kirarinlovesidols]

Prologue Part 3.

⟥────────✤────────────────────⟤

You had a pretty awful time trying to sleep for many reasons. A couple of them being Grim’s snoring, the weird noises in the middle of the night and the random bolts of lightning that would hit conveniently only when you were almost falling asleep. You’re so glad you don’t need to sleep.

Biologically speaking both you and the Greater Lord were a bit closer to plants. You didn’t need to sleep or eat, as long as you had sunlight and water you were fine. Still it didn’t mean you couldn’t indulge in those things as luxuries and after the day you had yesterday, you kinda needed to shut down for a while.

Though you can’t only do what you want in life, if at all.

As you were about to take Grim out of the unfortunate spot he somehow ended up on, which was your neck, you heard a familiar voice of one of the ghosts.

“Hee hee hee... Aren't the two of you supposed to be off cleaning the school today?” You turned your head to the side just to see all three of them surrounding your bed.

“Mmmmm... Nngh... Five more minutes, Ma…” You immediately grabbed Grim and took him off his ‘’’’’favored’’’’’ spot in a rush.

“Grim, wake up! they’re back!”  You said nervously. They were goofy looking but still could very much hurt you if they wished to do so.

The cat wakes up in confusion only to see you holding it in front of your face and a bunch of ghosts.

“MYAHHH! THEY’RE BACK!” So you two repeated the act of yesterday. Where you held the monster like a weapon and he drove them away.

“Don’t go grabbin’ me! and don’t use me as a shield either!” He complained as soon as you were done, wiggling out of your hold.

“I’m sorry! i didn’t mean to…but you wouldn’t wake up and i had no choice!” You apologized making a mental note to make it up to Grim later somehow.

Before this escalated any further Crowley walked inside the room, without even knocking.

“Good morning, Miss Rukkha. Did you sleep well?” The man had something in his arms, it looked like some kind of folded cloth.

“Ah! ye-”  You were about to lie just to not seem ungrateful but your roommate had other plans.

“Not at all! When I sprawled out on the bed, the mattress fell right through the frame!” Oh yeah. That was another one of the reasons you couldn’t sleep well.

“I-It wasn’t that bad though! i’m sure he doesn’t mean that!” You tried your best to cover for it only for Grim to crush your efforts.

“Are ya kiddin’ me? exactly how ramshackle IS this dorm? And worse yet, we got woken up by ghosts!” You covered your face with your hands in despair. Just great, now he would think badly of you.

The man didn’t seem to mind though. As he only walked over to you and handed you what you now recognize as overalls and a simple black shirt to put underneath.

“Well, it surely beats being outside in the rain. Now, consider this another sign of my great kindness. Surely you can’t work without appropriate attire.” You took the outfit from his hands with a smile.

“Thank you, sir! i’ll do my best!” You were relieved he apparently didn’t let Grim’s negative comments sway his generosity. Surely he only wanted the best for you.

In truth Crowley didn’t want to bother at all, he only did due to seeing you in your usual Lesser Lord ensemble. That would attract way too much attention and he couldn’t have that.

After that both him and Grim left the room at your request so you could change. Your eyes stared at your figure in the mirror now that you had your “janitor uniform” on. You struggled a bit to make the shirt fit, it was a bit small but it would have to do.

Since your hair was way too long you also had to put it up in a ponytail to make sure it wouldn't get in the way of your work. Feeling satisfied with the result you just had one thing left to check.

The scratch Grim gave you yesterday. It was almost healed by now. Seems like your regenerative habilities are still working, just slower. Well, better than nothing.

Getting out of the room you and Grim followed your “kind employer” as he explained what he expected out of both of you, which was cleaning the area spanning from the front gates to the library. You aren’t exactly too knowledgeable about cleaning but how hard could it be, right?

Grim immediately protested against the notion fo cleaning but you managed to convince him by reminding him of the kind of books there could be in the library, like how to become a great mage or something.

You’re very sorry for doing that.

⟥────────✤────────────────────⟤

“Wow, so this is Main Street, huh? This is incredible!” Grim said as he tried his best to see all there was to the entrance. He looked excited and giddy however you had to tell him something very important.

“Grim? don’t forget we’re here to clean…” It’s not like you didn’t believe him but he still seemed on the fence about it all.

“I know, i know! don’t remind me!” The cat rolled his eyes before resuming his observations.

“I didn't get to see it much yesterday. What's the deal with these seven statues? All their faces look pretty scary. Like, this lady here looks like she's got some reeeal anger management issues.” He stopped by the foot of the statue and you had to raise a brow there. 

Anger management issues was awfully specific, a bit weird he went there. Still you couldn’t bring yourself to disagree, maybe it was her expression that seemed like it could change any time. And you swore you saw her eyes open and look at you.

Before you could even mention it you heard a voice coming from behind.

“You don't know the Queen of Hearts?” Turning around you both saw a boy with ginger hair, red eyes that had a charming boyish glint and a weird…heart tattoo? or was it makeup? on the corner of his face.

“Queen of Hearts? Is she some kinda big deal?” Grim looked at the boy in question curiously.

“She was a queen who lived in a mazelike garden of roses long, long ago. She was a strict woman who prized order above all. She wouldn't tolerate a rose being off-color, or her  playing-card soldiers being out of step.” You couldn’t help but find that suffocating, perhaps it was the way of nobility?

“She basically ruled over a kingdom of madness, but not one of her subjects dared to defy her. You wanna know why? Because the punishment for breaking a rule was immediate decapitation!” You just did a double take with a horrified expression. That was just awful! how did she want people to ever respect her that way?

“Isn’t….isn’t that essentially tyranny?” You asked in a worried tone.

“Wah! That is seriously messed up!” Yeah, you really agreed with Grim on that one.

“Pretty cool, right? I'm a big fan. I mean, who would bother to obey a queen that was kind all the time?” You thought back at Greater Lord Kusanali and how she’s been nothing but kind to her subjects for all those years. Maybe her being so nice backfired as soon as she exhausted her powers but…you were sure they still respected her.

“I would….that doesn’t really sound like someone i would like to follow….” You looked to the side in awkwardness as stories of fictional rules who got overthrown by their subjects played in your mind.

“Yeah, true. A leader needs to be strong. But puttin' that aside... Who're you, now?” You disagreed on that take but it would take forever to explain why so you don’t interject.

“Name's Ace. I'm a first year student here, as of... today! Pleased to meetcha!” He extended his hand at you so you took it, forming a handshake.

“Oh! Nice to meet you too! I’m-” You got rudely interrupted.

“I'm Grim! I'm a prodigy whos plannin' to be, like, the greatest mage who ever lived.”  Grim then pointed his paw at you—  “That there's my far less interesting hench-human.” You just looked at him disappointedly.

“Don’t you mean friends, Grim?” You corrected him with a strained smile on your face.

“Nah, I mean what i said.”  Well! that was beyond mean!

Still, Ace nodded at the cat’s introduction and turned his gaze to you again.

“Rukkha, right? Name's got an odd ring to it.” He smiled as he let your hand go.

“It’s the shorter version of it…It’s actually Rukkhadevata but it’s too long, right? so you can just call me Rukkha, it’s probably easier.” You rambled slightly in nervousness. Your lack of social skills were showing.

“Also please don’t take him calling me his “hench-human” seriously, he’s kidding.” You weren’t about to let him just demote you like that, it was genuinely not nice.

Ace just giggled at your explanation.

“So tell me, Ace. Is that lion with a scar in the eye a famous ruler too?” You looked at the statue in question with the same amount of curiosity. So even animals marked history in this world, huh? it didn’t surprise you considering Grim could talk.

“Of course! That's the King of Beasts who ruled the savanna.” A lion being the king of beasts? you thought it was very fitting.

“But he wasn't born into the throne - he had to earn it through hard work and elaborate schemes. When he became king, he decreed that the hyenas would be pariahs no more, and should live among his subjects as equals.” You had a feeling that those “schemes” he mentioned had a lot more to them.

A second born cannot inherit the throne unless something happened to the first born and their heirs, or if the ruler just chose based on meritocracy. You didn’t know the story so you wouldn’t assume things but…it just seemed to weird to you.

And if Grim thought it was weird too, he didn’t mention it. “Sounds like a great guy! Not everyone's able to look past social status like that.” He nodded his little head as if acknowledging and respecting the figure of the statue.

“And who's the lady with the octopus legs?” Oh! now that’s something you haven’t seen! as far as you knew Teyvat didn’t have people who were part aquatic creature. This world is shaping to be way more interesting than you thought.”

“The Sea Witch who lived in an underwater grotto. She basically devoted her life to helping troubled merfolk. If they were willing to pay the price, she'd help them change their appearance, find love, whatever!” This woman seemed really incredible…you’re pretty sure most of such problems depended on the person, it almost seemed too good to be true…

“They say she was so good, there was no wish she couldn't grant. They also say the price was a tad steep, though. But she was granting wishes! Of course it was!” And there it was, the price. You suppose it was fair considering not even archons in your world granted wishes for free.

“Myaha! So you're sayin' that once I'm a great mage, gettin' rich off folks will be a total cinch?!” That’s not what Ace said at all and you would rather not have Grim swindling people for a living.

“Grim that isn’t very nice….please don’t scam people when you become a great mage…” You hoped your words would reach him somehow, even if he just ignored you.

“Oh, oh! Do the dude with the big hat next!” The monster looked lik a kid in a candy store,at least that was cute.

“That's the Sorcerer of the Sands. He was an advisor to a total dolt of a sultan. He was asmart guy. Really capable sort. He exposed this swindler once - some guy pretending to be a prince in order to trick the princess! After that, he got this magic lamp and became the greatest sorcerer in the world.” Then, they say...... he used that power to become sultan

himself!”  What about the old sultan? again with these weird ascensions to royalty without explaining properly? this was already the second time…you hoped it was just your imagination or your habit of reading too much into things.

“Wow! Guess it's true that a mage needs to be an excellent judge of character, huh? And what about this beauty over here?” Indeed the woman was very pretty but she…somehow…looked dangerous? maybe you shouldn’t judge a book by it’s cover.

“She's a queen who was said to be the fairest in all the land. In fact, she used her magic mirror to check how she ranked on a daily basis! When it looked like her position was threatened, they say she'd do whatever it took to keep it.” Oh, Forget it…there’s no way someone who checked her beauty rank daily wasn’t dangerous…you shivered at the mention of her doing whatever it took.

“Can you even imagine the level of dedication it would require to keep a record like that?

Also, they say she was a master of making poisons!” Yep, there it is. What’s wrong with the historical figures of this place?

“Geez. She's pretty, but that sounds kinda scary.” You and Grim were in a row today, huh?

“You think so? I gotta respect the hustle!” Ace looked at the statue, his smile never leaving his face.

“Uh…i guess she knowing how to make poisons could be useful but…i can’t imagine her doing anything good with that…”

“F-for sure... Sounds like she fought hard for what she believed in, and never gave up!” You glanced at your roommate with visible confusion. How did he manage to get something good out of that?

“And the one there, with the flaming head? Now THAT guy looks scary!” Hm…you didn’t particularly think he looked scary, his flaming hair reminded you of how some people talked about Natlan’s archon. You’ve never seen her yourself, of course, however everyone who went to natlan all had multiple things to say and one of them were how her hability to turn her hair into flames was very cool.

“That's the King of the underworld! Single-handedly ruling a kingdom packed with rambunctious spirits - that takes competence! He may look scary, but he was a straight shooter who worked tirelessly at a tough job he never even asked for.I mean, this is the guy who was ordering Cerberus, the Hydra, and the Titans into battle for him.” Ace shrugged matter of factly.

You had no idea what he was talking about near the end, must be something related to the history of this planet. Still, underworld and spirits? a place where people’s souls go, you guessed.

“Hmm. That IS something. T'think he could have that much power and not let it go to his head! And that last one there, with the horns?” Grim pointed to the last figure and she looked very elegant, holding a staff of sorts.

“That's the Thorn Fairy who lived on a mythical mountain. She was noble and elegant, and a master of magic and curses - even by the standards of these seven! She commanded storms, covered the kingdom with thorns... She could use magic on a massive scale!

She could even turn herself into a giant dragon.”  A dragon?! now that sounded preposterous. Just how the magic in this world worked? it sounded crazier by the second.

“Ooh. a dragon! What all monsters yearn to be!” The cat’s eyes glimmered in admiration as he looked at the woman known as the “thorn fairy”

“Pretty cool, huh? Not like some piddling weasel.” Ace’s tone seemed to have suddenly changed to pure mocking.

You turned your head to look at him just to see if you actually heard right but of course you did. Just look at how big your ears are.

“Myah?!” Grim let out a yelp in shock.

“Pfft... Ah ha ha! I can't hold it back anymore! Ah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! Come on, you're the ones who turned orientation into such a fiasco, right?” He wiped tears off his eyes as he pointed at you two who could only stare at Ace dumbfounded.

Ok. Maybe you did crash a very important otherwordly ceremony but it wasn’t your fault! you got spirited away against your will, what were you supposed to do? be burned by a feline that can use pyro energy or just suffocate do death inside a coffin?

“The fae girl with unstable magic that got summoned to an all-boys school and the monster no one summoned at all. It took everything I had not to burst into laughter right in the middle of the ceremony!” Oh again with this unstable stuff? you’re never going to live that one down, are you?

Either way you still felt embarrassed and a bit guilty for what happened so your face burned in embarrassment against your will, which only fueled Ace’s sudden sadistic behavior.

“I-it’s not! listen! i said i was sorry to the headmage and we’re all good, ok?!” You conveyed 0 credibility, no one would believe that.

“H-hey! You don't gotta be a jerk about it!” Your roommate seemed taken aback too, you guessed he didn’t feel good about that whole mess as well.

“So in the end, neither of you got admitted, and now you're janitors? Ah ha ha! SO lame!” This was starting to get out of hand and going past the limits of what’s acceptable, just WHY were people here so mean?

“Can you stop being mean? we didn’t do anything to you! we have an agreement with Crowley so…if…if you’re unhappy then just talk to him instead!” You said fighting against the desire to dig a hole and crawl into it.

The boy’s smirk still refused to leave his face, it seemed like he enjoyed torturing you both. He wouldn’t let you know he thought your distressed expression was cute though, or that you were cute, yep, no.

“What did you just call me?!” Grim’s fur stood on it’s end as he hissed at Ace.

Uh-oh….seems like he didn’t enjoy being called a janitor even if that’s essentially what you two were…

“Seriously you're both so clueless you don't even know who the Great Seven are. Not a one of them! Maybe before you try getting into the academy again, you ought to take a second crack at kindergarten? Ah ha ha ha ha!” Oh c’mon, you weren’t even from this world how would you know?

Still all this just wasn’t worth it and you and Grim had a job to do so you just calmed down and walked to the middle so you could stand in between Ace and your very very angry roommate, trying to mediate and possibly avoid conflict.

“Listen, Ace…there’s no need to talk to us like that. We’re sorry and repenting about the ceremony so just get to class before you get late.” You tried to sound like the bigger person and do the right thing but the way you talked ticked the ginger boy slightly.

“Huh? who do you think you are nagging me like that? my mom? Anyway, just thought I'd tease you a bit. And man am I glad I did. It's been a blast! Unlike you, I actually have classes to get to, so I'll let you get back to picking up trash. Bye!” He totally didn’t decide to go to class cause a cute girl told him to, nah, he would never admit that.

He should ask you for your number sometime.

“Myuh-uh! You ain't walkin' away from me! It's too late for that! Myaaaaah!” There’s no way this is happening. 

Without even thinking about consequences Grim shot a fireball at Ace who miraculously dodged.

“GRIM!? You’ll hurt him! don’t do that! didn’t you hear him saying he was leaving?!”

You were trying your best to fix this situation and this cat STILL wanted to fight despite the main instigator preparing to leave. Just what were you telling Crowley? needless to say you were losing your mind.

“No one makes fun of Grim, Master of Fire! I'm gonna make that explodey-head of yours explode all over again!” He stomped his little feet on the ground as if trying to show the world how pissed off he was.

“Oh archons! let’s all just…calm down!” You tried to scoop up the cat only for him to swat his claws in your direction as a warning to stay out of it.

“Explodey-head?! You wanna throw down with me, shorty? You got some guts.” Ace got up from the spot he had to jump in order to dodge the fireball of earlier and took some kind of…pen out of his pocket— “You wanna talk hair, huh? I'm gonna shave you like a toy poodle!” The jewel on the “pen” glowed a bright red as the wind suddenly started picking up, easily blowing the cat away.

It seems like you really couldn’t stop this anymore.

You then immediately made the same motion of a square with your fingers so you could “mark” him. Basically all you needed was to use him as a tether to materialize something that could only be described as a rope made out of dendro energy and pulled him back to you before he went flying to god knows where.

You were about to catch him in your arms when he just spun his body mid-air and fell on his feet.

Of course…he’s a cat after all, he would’ve been fine….

You yourself wonder what goes through your head when making stupid decisions like these.

“You can’t use wind to blow away my fire balls you coward!” Of course he didn’t even thank you, classic Grim.

What's going on over there? A fight?!

Oh, sweet! Get 'em!

Dude dude, record it! post it on magicam!

Now there were people watching and cheering for the fight to continue, this really couldn’t get any worse.

“Can you two please calm down?! you’ll get hurt at this rate!” You made the rope disappear as you begged the two to stop it before it escalated any further.

“Awww... Can't hit me with your little fireballs?” Ace taunted and you swore you could see steam coming out of Grim’s already on fire ears.

“Grrr... You better believe I'm about to!” And then hell broke loose yet again it was an unending barrage of fireballs against wind currents that were just as strong.

You were seriously getting angry.

When you were about to put both of them inside one of your very own signature dendro “cages” a particular heavy wind gust sent a fireball to your way. At that you immediately put up a barrier but that was just an even worse mistake.

The fireball bounced off your dendro wall and ended up hitting the statue of the queen of hearts.

Oh.

My.

Archons.

You were absolutely cooked.

All three of you stood there watching in horror at how charred a literal statue made to honor a historical figure now looked. It was almost like it was left inside some burning museum and was barely took out of there in time.

“Oh no! Now the Queen of Hearts's statue looks like it's been flame-broiled!” The ginger boy screamed in despair as he looked at the result of his short temper.

“That's your fault for tryin' to divert it! You shoulda just let it burn you to a crisp!” Grim growled at his enemy with enough bark to put a dog to shame despite being a cat.

“And who in their right mind would ever do that you dumbass?!” The other boy said incredulously.

“What is going on here? Cease this at once!” Aaaaaaaand there he is! the voice of the person you wanted to see the least right now.

God you felt like you were going to cry.

Unfortunately you felt like you were frozen in place as you stared at the burnt face of that queen, you could barely hear Crowley grilling the two boys behind you.

All you could think about was how you literally caused so much trouble and disgraced yourself in front of a figure of authority, again.

You just couldn’t do anything right, huh? 

This is why you weren’t needed.

She wouldn’t have let this happen, she would’ve managed to calm both of them down with her immense carisma and elegant aura. 

As expect of the Lesser Lord.

That’s all you’ll ever be.

A hand on your shoulder broke your trance.

You looked back to see who it belonged to.

“Did I not just warn you, ‘no more incidents’ ”

You could only whisper a meek “I’m sorry” before being guided away from the commotion followed by the other two main reasons of this tragedy.

You really can’t catch a break.

⟥────────✤────────────────────⟤

What if you were writing, literally locked in and god said:

“Illness be upon ye” ?

Yes i’ve been bedridden with fever since fucking saturday, what a nightmare.

Also thank you all very much for all the compliments on this mess asjfasdhgsakj

it makes me happy it’s interesting to yall.

Final part coming soon!

Taglist: @coffee-or-hot-cocoa , @m-majoko , @ghostlysyntaxed , @justanormiewhoreads

[nrdmssgs]

To my beloved ones who need this

This last 24 hours, I saw a concerning amount of 'if he wins - I'm ending my life' messages. I will understand, if you don't feel like I have a right to talk about this situation, as I am not an American citizen. But if it's cool with you - I have 8 things that helped me personally to stay, when things around went south.

Give yourself time to mourn. You have every right to feel like you feel right now. Even if you couldn't take part in what is happening. This is your life and it matters. Cry openly at home if it's a safe space. You can share your feeling with me, if your home is not safe. Eating your feelings up may sound like a good strategy in a short run, but it will have a backsplash later.

Don't give yourself too much time to doomscroll. I don't mean this like 'don't read the news at all'. I know, It's extremely hard to control this, but this is important. Give yourself time. Like 'ok, I'm doomscrolling from 1 to 2 pm. After that, I'm writing that fanfic, reading that book, shopping for groceries'.

Do mundane household things. Right now, it might feel like you don't have any control over your life. Like tomorrow, angry people come at your door and burn you. I understand, where does this come from, but I also understand that this feeling can grow into an all consuming fear, that might end you. So it is important to fight over this sense of control. 'I am in control of what I'm eating today, I am in control of what bedsheets I'm sleeping on today'. These are very tiny things, but they might help you from sliding down the fear.

Walk. If it's safe for you - please go out. I know, it doesn't cure depression, but I promise you, forcing your brain to analyze new information (new scents, dynamic surroundings) for maybe an hour a day helps in keeping yourself from circling around one damaging idea.

Acknowledge, you are not alone in what you feel right now. One of the scariest things your brain can decide right now is 'I am alone, I'm surrounded by enemies'. The truth is, you are not alone in this. There are millions of people mourning with you right now. Concentrate on them. If it helps - watch streams with their demonstrations, read their articles, do anything to not forget, they are out there.

It may now seem like you lost some of your relatives and friends. Don't forget that you don't have to force yourself to communicate with them right now. But also don't forget that you are not obliged to declare 'from now on I don't have a father/granny/sibling'. Maybe you will burn all the bridges, maybe with time you find some way to talk to each other despite what happened. Don't force yourself to choose right now because it's a very hard thing to do.

Make a small plan for 6 months from today. And I don't mean 'plan every week'. No, do a little thing. Buy a cinema ticket or a train ticket to somewhere not too far from your home, sign up for a 'prettiest origami contest', ANYTHING. But it must be not for tomorrow, it must be a long term plan. This little anchor might give you a little help.

Right now, it might feel like this is the end. But as someone who was there more than once: I promise you, this is not. This is not necessarily the end for you personally when a tyrant comes to rule your country, when he brings to life the most inhuman laws, when he starts a genocide. I don't mean this as 'stop whining, you softie, you are exaggerating this'. You are not exaggerating. As well as many people in Europe weren't exaggerating, when they acknowledged 1. September 1939 as the day, when the Evil took over the world. There are some diaries left from that time, that end abruptly in 1942 or even 1944 with the author taking his life, declaring, that this heel of a war will never end. But we all know that September 1945 and the war was over. Our task right now is to live to that day.

I love you all. I mourn with you.

[oimitocat]

STRAY KIDS REACTION….

… to boyfriend!reader being angry and they find it hot (nsfw warning) (hyung line!)

ᡴꪫ CHAN… was extremely similar to you. you’re a lay-backed person, sure sometimes you have episodes where you’re not exactly in the mood to socialize but still, you’re charismatic and let things slide more than he does. you always say it’s because you don’t have energy to entertain that stuff.

yet, seeing you angry — TRULY angry, was something he’d never think he’d get to see. so color him surprised when he hears you shout and pace. the furrow of your brows, your darkened eyes. you looked… good. that tone, he’d never heard it and… it stirred something in the pit of his stomach.

“something wrong?” he asks after a while of eye fucking you.

“company said i need to go on a damn hiatus because some shitheads are spreading a rumor. i could care less, why do they have to make it seem like i’m anxious or whatever?”

chan blinks. “rumor?”

“yeah, super stupid. all i did was call them to say i wasn’t happy with how our last show ended. dude, they literally couldn’t get my headset to work, i had to wing the timing and stuff. their lack of work effort pisses me off.” you groan.

“i know but…” chan pauses when you glare at him. he swallows, “hey, i mean a hiatus is good. you get to rest.”

“i don’t want to rest-“

“i get to have you all to myself without worrying about you missing out on your schedule.”

“if you’re bored, play with me. if you’re angry, take it out on me. you’ll have all the time to do so.” he grins.

you blink, “i- what?” and you can’t even be angry anymore… just frustrated. but chan will also take that.

ᡴꪫ MINHO… had the habit of annoying you and frustrating you sometimes, but never actually making you angry. as idol’s there is a lot of things that can drive you mad. minho for example hates wardrobe malfunctions. fans went crazy over some clips of him angry and upset over a few outfits and so have you.

you never really cared for much, at the end of the day you get a nice paycheck and you’re good to go. still, that doesn’t mean you don’t care about your job. so when he sees that your mic isn’t working and you’re more than upset at the lack of resolve from the sound techs…. he simply cannot look away.

even when you get off the stage, you’re glaring and absolutely not in the mood. everything you do is with anger— ripping off your headset, wiping off your sweat, loosening your outfit. goodness, you look delectable.

“you mad?” he asks teasingly, of course he has to tease.

“i’m not in the mood minho.”

oh! that anger had a pretty tone. “fuck,” he breathes out, pressing himself closer to you, “you gonna take it out on me?” and your eyes bored into him.

he definitely didn’t regret it later.

ᡴꪫ CHANGBIN…. didn’t know you could get angry. he’s only seen you be all soft and gushy. he’s seen you be defensive and stern but never angry. he’s literally making his way to the studio when he hears your voice boom outside the door. worried, he walks in and sees how your standing and yelling at the other producer.

“what’s-?”

“-how long it’s taken us to keep these files and you forget to save them?!”

the producer fidgets, “doesn’t change have a copy? he always has a copy-“

“THAT DOESN’T MEAN THE COPY IS THE SAME AS WHAT WE WERE ADDING TO IT YESTERDAY! you can’t recreate something that was authentic!” you pace, pulling at your hair, “shit man, i worked so hard on that!”

“y/n calm down,” he tries, “what file is it-?”

“changbin, i literally cannot right now.” and you leave.

in the end the file wasn’t deleted, just misplaced in the wrong folder to which it was saved. still, the lack of clarity pissed you off. you didn’t want to work that day and changbin was trying so hard to coax you. yet, seeing you mad was so good for some reason. changbin knew he could make you feel better (totally not feeling you with his hands? and you being angry was making things fun.

ᡴꪫ HYUNJIN…. doesn’t remember a time where you’ve been angry. he’s also never even wanted to. he doesn’t like noise and he remembers how you always say you blow up when angry. hence, when he hears you slam your fist on the desk, he jumps. you’re dramatic like him, so he tried not to think much of it except…

“are you kidding me?” he hear you say with an ominous tone. low and sultry, makes him pause. “so you’re saying that you’re wasting my damn time.”

he peeks over at, seeing you frown and glare at the wall while on the phone. he doesn’t think he’s ever seen that look on you… his mind starts to wander…. would that expression look at him? you’re talking, angry, clearly. and it’s so…

“why are you angry?” he asks when you hang up with an insult and throw your phone of the desk.

“cus apparently i have to do everything myself. why the hell would you-“ and he zones out, watching your angrily rant.

you plop down on the chair, angry. he stands and walks over to you, desire in his gut. “baby don’t be mad…” “well i wouldn’t if they did what i was paying them to do.” “-let’s get your mind off that, yeah?”

and boy did he.