#even when I spend half my life interacting first etc etc

[kavehater]

Something I hate is when if I’m moving blogs and I’m like I’m gonna try to do something right and not ghost everyone so I make a little post even if it feels attention-seeky because I want to feel normal for once and just want to be like I’m moving blogs lmk if you want it but then like 3 people actually reach out AHAISDODMDKDSOSK

[ellapurnellmybeloved]

fluff alphabet |clarisse la rue

author's note: Hi lovelies, please send me requests! I don't know what gave me the confidence to think I can write, probably delusion. Also, this is according to my personal views of Clarisse so don't be mad if it's different from what you've imagined. Leave a comment, I love interacting with people, xx.

warnings: I tried my best to keep it gender/race/cabin neutral for the most part but there are still some feminine coded things here and there. English is not my first language so excuse any grammar mistakes.

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Starting off strong because with Clarisse sparring is a must. Although she doesn't like to think there will ever come a time in which she won't be there to protect you, it's still an essential part of life as a half-blood. And who better to train you than the daughter of war herself? And in case the apprentice becomes the master and you happen to beat her or pin her to the ground or even hold your dagger to her neck? Oh boy, she's done for. Actual heart eyes.

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

She pretty much loves everything about you, she can't really just choose one aspect. Though, if she had to, she'd probably say she loves you for being supportive, understanding, and patient with her. You understand her better than anyone. That's what made her know you were the one for her. You can control her anger issues and calm her down when she's on the verge of exploding and she thinks that's beautiful.

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc?

The art of intimacy or comfort never came easy to Clarisse. Her relationship with her mother isn't the best and hasn't been for a while now and her father is a grade A asshole. Her first instinct when you're feeling down is to fix it, to ask you who or what happened and give them a physical piece of her mind, but that's not always how it works. She'll pull you to her lap and hold you through the night or for as long as you need, wiping your tears and kissing your cheeks. She'll let you vent your heart out. You can tell her anything. Or nothing, if you prefer. She's not the best with words but her actions speak much louder.

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

She's never thought that much ahead if she's being honest. Never allowed herself to daydream too much into the future, choosing to live off the present for now. Sometimes, however, she pictures what could be only described as an utopia; to go on such a fantastical quest that the gods can't help but grant the both of you immortality, that way you'd bask in the glory of your love forever and ever.

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

On the outside looking in it would seem Clarisse is the dominant one for sure. And in some ways she is; she likes that you can rely on her, she wants to provide for you, yearns to prove herself capable of such. Still, you're the one in charge. Clarisse is completely devoted to you, and your relationship means more to her than anything she's ever felt before. She cherishes it like no other, always at your beck and call.

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

Clarisse is intense, that much we know. Her anger runs deep and her passion burns red. She's not perfect, and doesn't try to hide it either. She's hot-tempered, arrogant, she's got a short fuse and she holds grudges. Her fatal flaw is pride, which sometimes gets in the way of her good senses, so you'll most likely be the one apologizing first. Despite all that, she can't bear the thought of you being mad at her and absolutely hates fighting with you. It's like it's tearing her apart, especially if you're sad over something she said or did in the heat of the moment. Truth is, she is a fighter at heart so when all is said and done she'll try and make it up to you in some way, somehow.

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

She is so appreciative of everything you do and are. As previously stated, Clarisse didn't get much love growing up so any semblance of that is something she clings hard to. She notices everything, every little thing you do for her and the underlying of your words. How you treat her and others is always stored in the back of her mind and she loves to be loved by you.

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

Clarisse is a very closed off person in general, she doesn't like feeling exposed and being possibly seen as weak. She'll tell you things but there's still some matters you have to pick up on your own and know how to approach them, especially regarding her feelings and personal struggles. She's very honest though, she feels like she owns you that much and appreciates you if you do the same for her. The more your relationship progresses you'll notice being able to read her like an open book because although she does her very best to hide it there's an underlying vulnerability to her behavior in certain moments you'll take proper notice of the more you know her.

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

Clarisse has definitely become more gentle since you. It still doesn't extend to your friends and family but more so how she behaves around you and knowing she doesn't have to put up that though front all the time. Her sense of self worth has improved as well, especially when you reassure her through her insecurities and doubts (never being the son her father wanted etc.)

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Oh, boy. Clarisse’s jealousy is very fuelled by… Well, anything really. She doesn't necessarily need a motive to go toe to toe with someone, just staring at you for a second longer than she deems them worthy of and she's ready for a fight. It's hard for anyone to get close enough to flirt with you because she's always there, by your side, kind of like a guard dog. But only because she knows how amazing you are and her insecurities do blurry some lines on what's acceptable. She's working on it though.

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Clarisse is definitely a good kisser. She doesn't have much experience, if any, but she's a natural. It sounds cheesy but the first time she kisses you was like butterflies and church bells dancing loudly in the wind. The way she cups your face so uncharacteristically soft and how she breaks off the kiss with a series of small pecks only to smile one of her beautiful smiles so close to each other's faces… Magical. It could be at the fireworks on the fourth of July or it could be in your favorite spot in the woods, soaked in lake water during a midnight swim or after a heated argument. No matter how many times Clarisse kisses you, she'll never not feel electricity similar to her spear’s sharp edge digging into her body and soul.

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

Clarisse does not have a clue what she's doing. I feel like she'd say something in the heat of the moment; either confessing her true feelings or masking them by saying something hurtful she doesn't actually mean. In the latter scenario she'd storm off and berate herself over it but her pride and fear that you'd never look at her again made her put off her apology for some time and let it all sink in to talk to you when she's ready. That is until you start properly ignoring her and she nearly goes crazy with longing, just missing your overall presence and having her stomach turn to knots at the way things were left between you two. That's one of the few times Clarisse sucks it up and reaches for you. The apology is awkward but overwhelmingly honest and she tells you she's an idiot but you're content in forgiving her and giving her a second (actual first) chance.

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

Again, Clarisse never thought she'd live to see the day she'd actually have a marriage prospect. Her life just doesn't seem complete without you anymore and the moment she realizes that she's done for. It would probably be while you're laying in bed together, your head on her chest while you play with her fingers. Your eyes are heavy with sleep but hers are wide open, thinking. “Will you marry me?” said while staring into the distance and you probably think she's joking except Clarisse is not one to joke about that sort of thing. “Not now. But eventually.” and whether you ask if she's serious or just accept it right away, she'd look at you seriously for a beat and then tackle you into a bear hug, crushing you underneath her. She doesn't see the point in a big wedding, but if that's what you're into, she won't mind.

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

She is not immune to babe or baby but would still like to keep some variety. Things like sunshine, gorgeous, angel or others (I'm looking at you, person who created the “mama/s” HC). She does like your name very much, or probably a shortened version of it. Don't expect her to not tease you if any of these make you flustered.

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

Clarisse likes to think she's good at hiding it when she's absolutely not. As Taylor Swift once said, you can hear it in the silence. Just the way her eyes soften when she's looking at you speaks millions, but people also get whiplash at how fast her mean attitude changes whenever you're around. Her love giving languages are probably acts of service and physical touch. She loves to do things for you, feeling all big and mighty whenever she can make your life just a little easier. Touching is also a must but we'll get to that in a second.

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Clarisse is not very comfortable with public displays of affection, because she is afraid of being judged or mocked by others for being weak or soft. She prefers to keep her relationship with you private and intimate, but doesn't mind the little things. She does gloat about being with you as well as showing you off, so that everyone on camp knows you're hers. She brags about you all the time and I mean, seriously, all the time. She's not a big hand holder but she almost over compensates by grabbing at your hips and thighs, throwing an arm over your shoulder or hiding her face in your neck. She especially loves bonfires when you sit on her lap and she can hold firmly onto your waist while she's talking to her siblings or just press her forehead against yours when her social battery is low.

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

She's very perceptive. She may not know what has changed right away but she's also persistent so she'll figure it out in an instant. If it's the way you did your hair or something that happened along your day, even if you change your usual greeting. She notices and she'll definitely ask you about it.

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

Clarisse wants to be loved, that's all she’s ever wanted, and she has so much love to give, therefore I believe she'll do just about anything to make you happy. That includes being an absolute sap. She honestly doesn't mind how cliche it is, if it works on you, you bet she's using it. If anyone cares to say anything remotely negative about you or your relationship she will promptly glare them into oblivion or give them something to really worry about.

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

She is your absolute biggest supporter. Especially if you don't believe in yourself, then she's trying even harder for you to see just how well you can do something if you put your mind to it. With something like sword training she is more than willing to help you, rewarding you with kisses and cursing you for distracting her with your pretty face.

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

Clarisse doesn't mind change, she rolls with it. If you have a certain way of doing things, a routine you like to follow, that's fine by her. If you're unpredictable, even better. She just loves to see what comes next in terms of your relationship, not necessarily needing anything to amplify her love for you. It's already hardwired into her.

U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

She knows you like the back of her hand. Even the slightest furrow of your eyebrows or tilt of your head and she'll be there in a second asking what's wrong. She does learn to be more empathetic towards your own struggles, which was hard at first because she wasn't sure how to see things from someone else's point of view. Though road but you make it work.

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

She doesn't have much to look forward to so Clarisse values her relationship with you very highly, as you are one of the few people who can see past her tough and aggressive exterior and appreciate her softer and more vulnerable side. She is fiercely loyal and protective of you, and would do anything to keep you safe and happy.

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

I actually read this one on a Wattpad story a while ago so credit to the original creator but, Clarisse has a teddy bear named Mr. Muscles she's had since she was like, nine and she cherishes it like it's her most prized possession. When she introduced this piece of information to you, you just found her so incredibly adorable you couldn't contain the giggles and she gets so hot in the face she pushes you off her bed and it's honestly one of the most memorable moments in your relationship.

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

I headcanon Clarisse as your personal furnace as well as a koala bear so kisses and cuddles are a must, especially if it's cold outside. She loves to take naps with you, it gets to the point where she has trouble sleeping without you (so you give her a vial of your perfume to spray on Mr. Muscles for when you're away).

Y earning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

Clarisse with you: 🥰

Clarisse without you: 😡

She gets snappier than usual and easily annoyed but she'll also get really sad because she's never had to deal with being away from you. Her siblings try to cheer her up by shoving some kid's head into the toilet but she's so disinterested in anything that does not involve you she just goes about her days training until she can see you again and show off her muscles.

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lenghts for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

The answer is yes, one hundred percent. “Touch her and you die” trope goes so hard. Not only that but she would willingly sacrifice the world and herself for you and your relationship. She would go out of her way to make sure you are okay, that you are fed and hydrated and well rested, even messing up her own sleeping schedule in order to take better care of you.

[mdhwrites]

In your opinion does "The Owl House" have any re-watch value? Does the story, characters, characterization, writing, etc. hold up over repeated viewings or is the show played out after the first time through the series?

So I want to acknowledge that this is actually an awkward question. Not with how you phrased it or anything just... Period? Because whether something is rewatchable will mostly come down to personal taste and enjoyment. Some people find Horror movies to be great fun to rewatch while others may not see the point because you already know all the scare moments or answers to creeping dread. Some might find action movies exciting to rewatch while others need the novelty of a first rewatch. As such, my answer is very much so is going to be biased by the fact that I ended up not liking the show.

But... I broke essentially on rewatch in a way. A lot of people have shattered on TOH essentially from having to reconcile what it says versus what it does. A lot of this because TOH constantly kicks payoffs down the line and hints at potential it will reach. It is constantly making the journey suffer for the promise of a grand finale. And, well... A lot of people have agreed that the shortening did not force their hand to break multiple themes in the finale, or take Amity's character or a bunch of other things that bloated the series and never got a proper payoff, such as the Collector.

This format of TOH I think is actually what makes it so hard to rewatch unless you are the ultimate fan of it who will notice nothing. S1 is labeled as boring, a complaint I even agree with as someone who mostly likes S1 still. It spends the most time setting up plot lines though in episodes that are a pretty safe seven out of ten, or worse. Amity episodes can escape this problem decently often, being fun in their own right, but that's why the fandom only acts like half, at best, of S1 even exists. Most of it is easily forgotten because it's very forgettable. Not like in a S1 of Amphibia way where it's all so much fun but also so much of it that they can blur and be hard to separate but just in a "I just wasted 20 minutes of my life watching an okay kids cartoon" way. The only thing that helped those episodes not feel that way was this idea that it was building towards something with these characters.

And... After the shock of things like the Lumity Kiss being real, I don't think S2 holds up for being the majority of those payoffs. Amity and Willow? One of the most explicitly kicked cans? Seen interacting on the same side before either addresses the "We're not friends' thing because of Eclipse Lake, so that's pre-shortening and they still didn't decide to address and then address it badly. Luz's magic is wrapped in a plotline she's not a part of and has no real reaction to even. It's just "Oh, we're just making bullshit up now instead of finding glyphs? K." Amity's parents are wrapped up, in the same episode, early S2, in a very similar way where Amity is barely a part of that episode but now her core angst and excuse for being a bad person? Dealt with and out of the way, at least until they randomly decide to try and say Alador TOOOOOTALLY wasn't a bad guy. That he hated Odalia too. Totally doesn't contradict literally everything that came before, something that would be much more sharply noticed on a binge rewatch. Like... It cannot be understated that by the point most plot threads in TOH wrap up, they were introduced and left to rot for so long that half the time, the fandom was starting to get UPSET during the runtime for the lack of any exploration or conclusion. Long hiatuses didn't help but at its core, even when it was running people were wondering when we would get satisfying answers to thing and rarely were they happy about it.

I think this is a core part of why ONLY the shipping community seems to have clung to TOH. That or people who are exploring the show's missed potential with characters like Belos or the Blights. The fandom has had to either commit to the one thing TOH did do well, its shipping (that comes with so many fucking asterisks) and its potential baiting. But the latter also means you have to recognize why it failed in the process of doing your exploration of the work.

So will some people enjoy rewatching it? Of course. There are people who probably like rewatching the AtLA movie though because the die hards are die hards. Do I think from a casual perspective you get much out of rewatching a random episode, let alone binging the series again?

No. I just think disappointment that the main series will leave you, which will eventually no longer be tempered by the reputation of it having been shortened, will only get worse. It is not a tale worth seeing again, so I hope I see you in the next one.

======+++++======

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

[justmeinadaze]

Him and I (Steddie X You)

Prequel to Without Me / Part 2: You Should Be Sad Here

A/N: ENTER WITH CAUTION! Like my previous chapters THIS WILL MAKE YOU FEEL! Its angsty and dealing with dark themes of addiction. I WILL STILL LOVE YOU IF YOU CHOOSE TO SKIP THIS STORY!

Warnings: Toxic Steddie X Fem Reader, SMUT, I wanted to show the two parts of them and how the treated her before and after they started getting worse with their vices. The first half involves loss of virginity for the reader, dirty talk, kinda rough but more passionate I would say, The second half is definitely rougher, more dirty talk, degrading (whore, slut, etc), spanking, choking, Y/N is a willing participant in both instances!

Some FLUFF, they really do love her and vice versa but unfortunately they love their addictions more.

ANGST: DARK THEMES OF ADDICTION! Steve is an alcoholic and Eddie is a drug addict. Reader mentions more in Without Me how she's addicted to them and I feel like that's explored a bit more here. She gets on them a lot about their vices and every time they are dismissive. There are mentions of their childhoods and we do get an interaction with asshole older Harrington here (he belittles Steve and smacks him).

The accident from Without Me is here but with some details. Its more about Eddie and Steve's interaction before they ran and left her. We also get a glimpse of her in the hospital waiting for them.

Again NOT A WARM FUZZY STORY! I won't blame you if you choose to skip it <3

Word Count: 7874

1982

“That was…the grossest fucking thing you two evil people have ever shown me.”, Steve shudders as the three of you exit the theater. 

You and Eddie cackle as you follow behind him out the front door. 

“Oh, don’t be a fraidy cat, Harrington. It wasn’t even scary.”, the metalhead teases.

“I thought it was creepy. What would you do if I started to transform into some evil screeching alien?”

“I would still think you’re beautiful, honey.”

“Aw, Steve Harrington, you’re so sweetheart.”, you joke as you stick out your tongue.

Tonight was a much needed reprieve from all the chaos you and your two best friends had been dealing with.  Junior year at Hawkins high was shaping up to be an exhausting one. Steve’s dad was on him much more and with more vigor than he had before reminding the younger Harrington that his future was looming just off in the distance. 

“Steven! It’s time to buckle down and really focus. No more playing around, son. You need to focus on bringing up those grades and being a better athlete so you can get into a good college. I don’t hire losers at my firm!”

The older Eddie got the worse the town and student body seemed to be with him. 

“What’s wrong, freak?!  To busy focusing on your satanic shit? Get lost and take off that fucking Dio vest! You look fucking stupid.”

He did everything he could to focus on other things but idiots like Jason Carver and the other jocks were always around to make his life hell. 

That’s probably why they both seemed to “let loose” more than usual or at least that’s how they described it to you the first time you noticed them excessively drinking and doing drugs. 

“It just takes the edge off you know?”

“Is it? Steve, you have a flask now that you carry with you. Why would you need to do that?”

“It’s not a big deal, Y/N. It’s not like I have a real problem or anything.”

“Yeah, it’s just to relax. Here, sweetheart, you look like you need to chill out for a bit.”, Eddie adds as he offers you some of the white powder from the bag you noticed on his dresser. 

“Um, no thank you. I think I’m ok weed.”, you giggle trying to laugh off the worries that bubble in your stomach. 

You had started worrying about them more and more since this past summer. When you guys started high school, you noticed a change in them that wasn’t just normal adolescences. Steve’s words started to slur more throughout the day and whenever you three would spend time together his breath would smell so strong like a bar that you��d have to take a few steps away from him so you wouldn’t cringe every time he opened his mouth. 

Eddie’s personality would shift at random points. In the mornings he would seem like the metalhead you befriended and then by lunch his behavior would be so erratic that it would frighten you sometimes. By the final bell, you would notice him staring off into the wall or even find him passed out in the back of the library.

Your mind always explained it away with different excuses almost as quickly as the ones they gave you when you asked questions. 

“Hey, do you guys want to come over? My parents are out of town this weekend.”

“Sure. Sounds like fun.”, you beam up at him.

***

You woke up that following morning on Steve’s bedroom floor with Eddie beside you and the other boy passed out leaning against the wall with his long legs stretched out towards you both. Quietly, you got up to use the bathroom, checking your reflection in the mirror before you ventured downstairs to grab some breakfast. 

Your eyes scanned the photos along the stairs, sympathy washing over you as you noticed Steve’s uncomfortable demeanor in all of them. His house always had a sad air surrounding it. It never felt exactly lived in and when his parents were home, neither seemed happy. Both he and the metalhead spent a lot of time at your place which you didn’t mind. You loved their company and you wanted them to feel safe. 

Your parents always treated them like family and that’s how you saw them as well. You knew what both boys had been through and were still going through. Anything you could do to make things easier for them, you did with little to no question. 

After opening his pantry, something immediately caught your eye. Within the trashcan were a ton of empty liquor bottles. Not just single beer containers but bottles of whiskey that should last a long time in a house with one occupant, emptied and discarded. 

“Hey Y/N. What are you doing up?”, Steve groggily asked as he entered the kitchen. 

“Steve Harrington, what is this?”, you inquire back showing him the contents within the trash. 

The man’s eyes widen and it takes him a moment before he nervously chuckles. 

“Uh, my parents had a party last week so—”

“Your parents weren’t home last week. You told me they were on a business trip which is why you spent the night at my house because you didn’t want to be alone.” The two of you stared each other down until you finally continue. “You drank all this by yourself?”

“It’s…it’s not a big deal, honey.”

“DON’T you honey me, Steven!”

“What’s going on?”, Eddie asks after loudly banging down the stairs. 

“Did you know he was drinking this much?!”, you shriek as you show him what you found.

“I mean, it could be worse, Y/N.”

“HOW?! How can it be worse?! Are you fucking kidding me?! Rock bands don’t even drink this much!”

“Y/N! Come on. You’re making this into a big deal when it’s not!”

“Fuck you! I’m not going to watch you drink yourself to death. I love you but this is excessive!”

Stomping past them both, you head for the front door but the man hastily cuts you off and blocks you from leaving with his body. 

“Y/N, please. Shit… I’m sorry, okay? You’re right. I have been going overboard lately. It’s just everything with my dad and school… I promise this will never happen again.” As your arms fold over your chest, his beautiful eyes scan your angry frame. “You’re the only one that ever cared about me, Y/N; you and Ed of course.”

You sigh as your demeanor softens. 

“I DO care about you a lot, Steve. You know you can talk to me about anything and I’ll be there for you no matter what. You both don’t have to numb yourselves the way you do.” Eddie nods as you turn towards him, his head hanging in shame. “I worry about you two so mu—"

As you swivel back towards the other boy, you’re surprised when you are met with his lips on yours. You had never been intimate with them in any fashion up until this point, always seeing them as your best friends. You’d be lying, however, if you didn’t say Steve’s lips tasted good. 

He pulled away from you for a moment, the two of you panting into each other’s mouths as you process what just happened. Before you could do anything or even respond, a ring covered hand grabbed your arm and yanked you against a bare chest as Eddie’s own lips connected with yours. 

You could still hear the other boy’s heavy breaths causing you to groan at the sound. Lifting you onto the end table by the door, the metalhead hastily tugged down your pants and panties while Steve came up beside you to lift off your shirt and toss away your bra. 

Eddie’s fingers dug into your thighs as he opened your legs wide and kneeled in front of you, making you whimper when he shoved his face into your cunt. 

“Wa-Wait. I’ve—fuck—I’ve never done anything s-sexual before.”

A heavy growl emitted from both men as the long-haired boy sucked and flicked his tongue along your clit while Steve’s lips attached to your neck. Moving his friend out of the way, he lifted you in his arms and carried you to the couch.

You watched with wide, lust blown eyes as Steve pushed his shorts down enough to free his cock, spit in his hand, and stroked it along his length. 

“St-Steve, you’re so big. It won’t fit.”

His honey brown eyes met your own and it was almost like for a moment he had forgotten it was your legs he was between. Tenderly, he leaned forward to kiss your lips. 

“It will, honey. I promise. I’ll go slow, ok? Unless…do you want me to stop? I just…you are the only one to care about us. I love you so much, Y/N. Let us make it up to you.”

Your gaze momentarily shifted to Eddie who was looking at you with the same gentleness that you saw when you first met him all those years ago. Licking your lips, you kiss him again before shaking your head. 

“Just…go slow…and keep talking to me…please.”

Your arms clung to his neck when you felt the head of his cock line up with your entrance. Your breath caught in your throat as he began pushing in and on instinct you tried to push him away from you. 

“No, no, baby. You’re ok. E-Eddie, fuck, can you—”

Eddie quickly came up to your side and held you still with his hands as Steve pushed another inch into your hole. 

“God fucking damn it, you’re so fucking tight.”

“Are you ok, sweetheart?”, the other boy whispered in your ear.

“Hurts.”

“I know, baby. It’ll feel good soon. I promise.” His lips comforted you as he kissed your cheek and your head arched back as the other boy slide further into your body. Eddie licked his fingers and reached between your bodies to rub slow circles into your bundle of nerves as Steve kept going.

“Fuck, Eddie!”, you screamed causing the boy inside you to grunt when your pussy clenched around him. 

“Y-You like that, honey? You like Eddie’s fingers on your clit. Fuck, you’re doing so good, Y/N. I’m almost all the way in.”

“Steve…you’re so big…”

His cock twitched at your words and you groaned as the pain began to slowly dull. When his hips connected with yours, your eyes rolled back as his length grazed against that sensitive spot inside of you, you didn’t even know existed. 

Leaning on to his knees, his palms held your calves as he pulled himself almost all the way out before roughly thrusting back in.

“Steve!”

“Fuck, Y/N. Keep shouting my name like that, baby.”

Eddie’s hand petted your head, as the other boy set a steady pace.

“You’re doing so well, pretty girl. You look so beautiful like this. You deserve to feel good to. Does it still hurt?” He smiled when you shook your head. “How does it feel?”

“G-Good.”

“Yeah? Tell him, sweetheart.”

As your eyes scanned over Steve you couldn’t help but marvel at him as you view him through this new filter. Usually, you only saw him as a friend. You never really thought about his gorgeous eyes or perfect lips. The way his broad hairy chest looked so sexy glistening with sweat. You never noticed that one lock of hair that fell just so as his head tilted forward or how low and gravelly his voice was when he was turned on. 

“You feel so good, Steve.”

“Oh come on, Y/N. Tell him how you really feel. It’s just us.”

The boy tilted forward, taking one of your nipples in his mouth and you moaned as your fingers tangled in Steve’s hair. 

“F-Fuck… your cock feels so fucking good. I-I can feel you in my stomach.”

His lips trailed up your chest to your neck and your eyes fluttered shut as you turned your head to the sound of his voice in your ear.

“I feel good, baby? Fuck, Y/N. I’ve—I’ve never had a pussy that felt this amazing before. You were made for us, honey.”

“Steve, I… I feel… Something’s happening.” Your arms circle tightly around him as he thrusts into harder and faster. “Steve!”

“That’s it, pretty girl. Oh my god. Cum all over my cock!” You screamed his name as an intense, pleasurable feeling you had never felt before washed over you. “Goddamn it.”, he grunted as he quickly pulled himself out of your quivering entrance and you watch with heavy eyes as he stroked his length over you, releasing his seed on your belly. 

Lost in a haze of bliss, you barely felt both boys switch places and Eddie flip you over positioning your ass in the air. When his tongue licked a long strip up your folds, however, you gasped as your body shuddered against the couch. 

“So sensitive. I like that. Jesus, sweetheart, you taste so sweet. Are you ready for me?” When you don’t answer, his chest presses against your back as his fingers move your hair to the side. “Are you ready for me, Y/N, or did you want to stop? We can stop if you want to, baby girl. We’ll still love you.”

Craning you neck slightly, you able to meet those beautiful chocolate eyes. You had never noticed how intense they were especially when they were full of care like they were now. You never noticed how kissable Eddie’s lips were or how seductive they looked when they pulled back into a smirk. It never occurred to you how much bigger his gorgeous hands actually were compared to yours as he balanced himself so he wouldn’t crush you as he whispered in your ear. 

“You both love me?”

Your question threw them both off guard. 

“Of course, we do. There’s no one else in the world like you.”

“You helped make us who we are, Y/N.”

Steve’s words hit you like a train. You just found a trashcan full of liquor he had been hiding from you. They were both utilizing drugs and alcohol to a degree that was beginning to become concerning. Maybe…maybe they’d be worse if it wasn’t for you. Maybe you could help them get better and heal so they wouldn’t need to turn to that stuff.

“I love you to. I’m ready, Eddie.”

You both groaned as he ran his mushroom tip between your puffy lips, collecting your slick before he gradually began guiding himself inside of you. Your back arches up, pushing against his chest as he stretches you open. It didn’t hurt as bad as with Steve but Eddie was thick and it still felt like you were being ripped in half. 

“G-God, Y/N. Steve was right…how can you still be this tight?”

His arms wrapped around your body as he began pounding into you. In this position, you were feeling all new pleasurable sensations that had your toes curling as he grunted into your ear. 

“Do—mmm—do I feel good to, sweetheart?”

“Y-yes.”

“Keep talking to me, Y/N. The way you did with him. Really let go, babe.”

“Your cock…feels so good…Eddie. You’re so…deep.”

Lifting himself onto his knees, he yanked you up with him, the sound of skin slapping echoing through the house. 

“K-Keep going.”

“I can’t. Fuck. I’m…”

“Yes, you can. I can feel your pussy squeezing me. Beg me, baby. Beg me to make you cum like he did.” When you didn’t answer him again, he placed his fingers on your clit, moving them so fast as he matched his own rhythm.

“Eddie! Oh my…Please! Make me cum. I want to cum again! Please…”

The metalhead pushed your face down into the sofa as he did what you asked, slamming is cock into you till the coil snapped and you shouted his name as you came. He soon followed, moaning obscenities as he pulled out and came on the meat of your ass. 

Unsure of what happens next, you remained frozen in that position as you listened to Eddie’s heavy pants. You were a complete mess, naked, hair frayed, and everyone including your own arousals dripping from your body. 

 “Whoa! Hey, it’s ok. I’m just picking you up to take you upstairs so we can get you clean.”, Steve explained when he felt you flinch. 

You sighed exhaustedly as he lifted you up and you clung your arms around his neck. Eddie ran ahead and as soon as you both entered the bathroom your bath was ready. Sitting there quietly, you starred off into the tile in front of you as they ran a washcloth along your skin. 

“Y/N?” The metalhead reached for your chin and gently turned you to face them both. “Are you alright? We didn’t hurt you or anything, right?”

When you shook your head, they exchanged a glance.

“What are you thinking about, honey?”

“Why? Why now? You two have had so many other girls in your life—”

“None like you.”, Steve interrupted. “I wasn’t lying, Y/N. I love you. My dad doesn’t give a fuck about me, my mother is never here, the girls at school just want me because I’m ‘popular’.”, he rolls his eyes. “You’ve never wanted or expected anything out of me. You treat me like I’m not fucking worthless.”

“Because you’re not, Steve.”

“When my mom died, I thought I’d never be happy again. Then I met you guys. Baby, I love you to. Even with Wayne sometimes I feel like I’m burdening him.”

“You’re not, Eddie. He loves you.”

“I know but I get what Steve is saying. We hear all this bullshit enough and it just sinks in you know? But with you…”

“We’ll still be your best friends, Y/N, even if you don’t want us like that.”

“I didn’t say that.”, you smirk as both their gazes shift towards you. “I would like to be wined and dined though.”

“You wanna go out on a date?”

“Yeah. Maybe we can check out that new Star Wars movie and then—”

“We can take you to dinner.”, Eddie beams. “Treat you like a princess.”

############

1983

“Wow, Steven, you suck at this.”, Eddie teases as you giggle from the side while you both watch Steve try to shoot one of the balls on the pool table into the corner pocket. 

“Well shit, Edward. Do you wanna wrap your arms around me like you do with Y/N and teach me to be better.”, the pretty boy slurred as his cue missed the ball entirely. “Fuck.”

The metalhead extended out his arms toward him as he began to sing. 

“Love lift us up where we belong.”

“Don’t you touch me.”, he laughs as they both flash each other a toothy grin. 

“Come on, princess. Show him what I taught you.”

Playfully swaying your hips as you saunter over, your eyes flick to them as you line up your shot. Steve tosses back the liquid in his flask and Eddie lights his fourth cigarette in a row. He’s getting antsy which means soon, he’ll excuse himself to the bathroom where he’ll snort his powder and come back with half lidded, glassy eyes. 

You savored small moments like this where you could. Where you three were having fun and they weren’t totally clouded over by their vices. Tonight was a regular date night and you were so happy that they didn’t seem to be in a bad mood. You always knew how ever it wouldn’t take much for that spark to ignite though. 

Beaming at them, they clap for you obnoxiously loud as you make your shot. 

“That’s our girl!”

“Shut the fuck up, freaks!”, Jason Carver hollers from the corner of the bar.

“Go to hell, Jason!”, you shout. 

The jocks cackle at your comment as Andrew’s eyes rake across your body. 

“Little girl has a mouth on her. Maybe we can show her how to use it.”

Eddie stomped towards them before you could stop him. 

“Say that a little louder, asshole. I don’t think I heard you correctly. That ‘little girl’ is my best friend and you willshow her fucking respect!”

“Go to hell, Munson.”

“HEY! Knock it off or I’ll kick you all out!”, the owner shouted as he glared where you guys were standing. 

“Come on, Ed. Let’s get out of here.”, you try and sooth him in a calm voice. “Please.”

Angrily turning away, he barrels out the door as you run after him. 

“Eddie, it’s ok.”

He ignores you as he opens his van door, pops open the glove box, and pulls out the little glass vile of his drug. You watch with helpless eyes as he pours some on the edge of his hand near his thumb and snorts the contents.

“That’s not going to help anyone.”, you growl.

“Yeah, well, no one fucking asked you. Let me ask you something. Why did you want me to stop? Huh? Do you want to fuck Jason and his stupid friends?”

“Have you lost your fucking mind? Of course, I don’t.”

“Pfft, please. Little whore like you can’t help herself.”

“Fuck you, Eddie.” 

As you turn and try to walk away, he grabs your arm and tries to keep you from leaving. 

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

“I’d rather walk than deal with this bullshit.”

“Guys…”, Steve slurs as he appears beside you. “Can we do this later? I’m fucking exhausted.”

***

Driving his van for them, you all went back to Steve’s house and let them talk you into staying over. Around two in the morning, yelling startled you awake causing you to panic when you realized Steve wasn’t beside you. 

“Eddie.”, you murmured forcefully as you shook him. “Eddie!”

“Jesus H Christ, WHAT?!”

“Something is happening downstairs. I think Steve needs our help.”

“He’ll be fine. Just shut the fuck up and go back to bed.”, he grumbled as he rolled over. 

Ignoring him completely, you quietly tiptoed out of the bedroom and leaned against the railing as you listened to Mr. Harrington screaming at his son. 

“This is a $500 dollar bottle of bourbon, Steven! I save it for important clients not my idiot kid and his friends.”

“For the thousandth time, I didn’t drink it!”

“Oh, so all of my alcohol just disappears then. Even though you, the freak, and that whore are here a majority of the time alone.”

“Don’t call her that.”, Steve grunted through gritted teeth.

His dad stepped forward and smacked him hard across the face. 

“Don’t talk to me in that tone of voice.”

Running down the stairs, you put yourself between them. 

“Leave him alone! He’s not drinking what’s yours.”

“Everything in this house fucking is mine, little girl. I paid for it with my hard-earned money. What the fuck has he done? Nothing and that’s all he will ever be. The sooner you figure that out the better.” Mr. Harrington raises his finger and points to his son. “You owe me $500 dollars or I swear to God, Steven.”

With that his dad furiously left the house, slamming the front door for emphasis. Quickly facing him, you cup his cheeks in your hands, and check him over.

“Are you alright, baby?”

“Why the fuck did you do that, Y/N?”, he asks in a sharp tone. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Marching towards the kitchen, he opens cabinets till he finally finds a bottle of whiskey that actually still has some liquid within it. You glared at him as he knocked it back, panting when he finally removed his lips from the glass. 

“You both promised me you would slow down on stuff like this.”

“Yeah, well, we don’t answer to you, honey. If you don’t like it, you can fucking leave.”

“Maybe, Andrew is still at The Hideout. He can give you a bed for the night.”, Eddie sneered as he rounded the corner and leaned in the doorway.

“Fuck you both. I’m fucking done.”, you spat. “You want me to leave? You got it.”

You headed towards his room, throwing off his clothes so you can put on your own and head home. You knew better. You knew you should have just left but part of you was hoping they’d beg you to stay, groveling at your feet as they told you they loved you. You wanted them to fight for you…show you that they needed you as much as you felt like you needed them. 

And they would…in their own inebriated way…

“Why the fuck are you still here?! I thought you were leaving?!”, Eddie shouted when he found you. Grabbing your pants from the floor, he threw them down to the first floor with your shoes and socks. “Get a move on, baby!”

Ignoring him, you banged your feet loudly down the stairs but as you bent down to grab your jeans, Steve came up behind you and captured your wrist turning you to face him. 

“You made things worse by butting in.”

“No, Steve, you make things worse by continuing to drink. Why?! Why do you two do this?”

The man rolls his eyes as he takes a swig from the bottle in his hand. 

“Please. Like you fucking care. You’re going to break our hearts just like they did. May as well just leave now, honey, and leave us in peace to destroy ourselves. It’s what Eddie and I are good at, right bud?”

Eddie’s only response was a deep inhale that you knew was his him snorting his blow. 

Shaking your head, you turn to leave but he doesn’t release you from his hold. 

“I thought you said I could leave, Steve. That’s what you want right? To fulfill your own prophesy of me abandoning you.” You try to yank your arm back but he just tugs you close to his chest, glaring down at you with angry eyes. “It’s not like I’ve been by your sides and both your best friend since we were little kids.”

Sarcastically, you laugh knowing what you say next will rile him up but you don’t care. In this moment, you were in so much pain after the way they spoke to you. You were fully prepared to give them a taste of their own medicine. 

“Your dad was right. You are nothing.”

In one swift motion, he released your wrist and took hold of your hair, leading you to the couch where he bent you over the arm.

“I’m nothing, huh? HUH?!”, Steve shouted near your ear as he leaned over your back. “Say it again, little girl! Come on. Let me hear it!”

“You’re nothing, Steve Harrington! I thought you wanted me to fucking leave! I’m going to abandon you anyway, RIGHT?!”

His palm came down hard on your behind, making you yelp before he moved the cotton blocking your core and abruptly pushed two of his long, thick fingers into your sex.

“You’re not going fucking anywhere tonight, babe. Not until we’re done with you.” You groan as he curls his fingers inside you and spanks you again. “You always talk back but you’re still so fucking wet for us, aren’t you? AREN’T YOU?!”, he yells as he hits you again.

“YES!”

“Fuck, just listen to that pussy, Munson.” The sound of your slick fills the room as he thrusts his fingers at a faster pace. “Fucking whore is always ready.”

“Probably why she can’t help but eye fuck this entire town.”, Eddie condescends as he comes around to sit on the couch in front of you. 

“Please…”, you moan as the coil tightens in your stomach. 

“Please.”, he mocks making you growl before his fingers roughly pinch your cheeks. “Control the fucking attitude, Y/N. Since we’re nothing and we do nothing for you, might as well use you one last time and I’ll be damned if you’re going to look at me like that.”

Steve spanks you again causing you to whimper as your pussy clenches around his fingers and you cum hard around them. After literally ripping off your panties and Eddie tugging off your shirt, the other boy loops his arm around your waist, carrying you around the front of the sofa, and tossing you on it. You wince as you fall a little harder than you should of making both boys freeze. They don’t genuinely want to hurt you; they never have. You know what they’re doing right now is an outlet especially for Steve after what happened with his dad. They needed to feel in control and so did you. You desperately needed to feel like you could reign them in and keep their vices in check so it didn’t get worse. 

If they needed to use you so they didn’t use themselves, so be it.

Your eyes flick between theirs before a slow, cool laugh leaves your lips. 

“Oh, come on, boys. Don’t pretend like you fucking care now. I’m a whore right, Ed? Steve? Come on, baby.” You coo in a sarcastic tone as you push up on your knees and wrap your arms around the man’s neck. “Prove to me you’re not nothing. Show me what a real Harrington man is.”

With newfound motivation, he manhandled you till you were on your hands and knees facing Eddie’s lap. You mewled, biting your lip at the feeling of Steve’s spit hitting your cunt before he pushed down his shorts enough to free his cock and roughly thrust it into your entrance.

Ringed fingers tangled in your hair, tugging you back till you were looking at the metalhead’s angry face. 

“You’re going to suck my cock, little girl, and you’re going to take all of it. No whining or complaining. Sluts do what they’re told.”

You nodded with heavy eyes as the man behind you abused that sensitive spot inside you over and over till your toes were curling. Shimming out of his boxers without letting you go; his dick sprang free and you wasted no time taking him into your mouth. 

Eddie groaned as you did what you were told, his tip hitting the back of your throat as you drooled around him. Every time you moaned at Steve’s thrusts, his fingers gripped you tighter as his eyes fluttered shut. 

“Fuck, baby, that’s it. At least that bratty mouth is good for something. Shit.”

Looping his arm around you, Steve’s hand reached between your legs and began rubbing fast circles into your clit that had you screaming around Eddie as you pushed back against his hand.

“Fuck, Steve!”

“Yeah. That’s the fucking spot. I know. No one knows you better than us, little girl. Cum. Cum hard on my cock, Y/N!”, he demands as he spanks you with his other palm. 

As the ball drops, you moan his name as your pussy quivers around him. 

“Fuck. That’s it. Good girl. Good fucking girl.”, Steve grunts as he pounds into you chasing his high. 

Clinging to your hair, Eddie holds you still as he thrusts up into your mouth and fucks your face as you gag. 

“There you go, you little whore. Choke on my dick.”

Steve’s rhythm falters and he grunts as he releases his spend roughly into your cunt. As he fills you up, the metalhead pushes you lower onto his lap and growls loudly as your throat constricts around him. They both pull out of you at the same time and Eddie forcefully tugs you onto his lap facing him. 

Your jaw falls open as he grips your waist and brings your down onto his cock, your hands clinging to his shoulders as he guides your movements. 

“Harder, Y/N! Fucking make me believe that you fucking care!”

As you wrap your arms around him for leverage, you bounce faster and harder on his lap, throwing your head back as you moan loudly. 

“E-Eddie, please!”

“Fuck.”, he grunts, lifting you into the air without pulling out, sitting you on the sofa while his palm grips the back as he takes over thrusting into you. “God, you feel so fucking good. You’re ours, little girl. This pussy belongs to us.”

When all you do is mewl and nod, his fingers take hold of your jaw, and force you to meet his intense gaze.

“Say it, Y/N. So we know you fucking understand.”

“I-I…my pussy be-belongs to you. Fuck.”

“Who do you belong to?”

“You two.”

“WHO?!”, he snarls as he rolls his hips hard.

“EDDIE AND STEVE! Fuck, I’m gonna—”

The metalhead’s ringed fingers grab your throat and you whimper as you cum again. Eddie’s grip tightens and you feel your air slightly cut off. Right as your panicked eyes find Steve’s, the other boy paints your walls as he fucks it deep into your core. 

Steve reaches over and tugs at his friend’s wrist, signaling for him to release you which he does. His chocolate eyes scan you over with worry, when he hears you cough as you catch your breath. 

“I…I…shit. Y/N, are you…okay?”

When you don’t answer, they swiftly kick into action as Steve lifts you into his arms and carries you to his bathroom where he gets the tub ready. Eddie appears next to you with a bottle of water but as he offers it to you, you turn away. 

“Sweetheart, you have to drink something.”

“Like either of you care.”

“Honey, of course we care.”

“DON’T! Don’t you honey and sweetheart me! I’m a whore who wants to fuck the entire town, right?! I’m butting into your business and making things worse, right?! I don’t love you and you don’t care if I leave, RIGHT?!” Pushing Steve away, you wince as you lower yourself in the warm water and bring your knees to your chin. “What do I have to do to prove to you that I only want you two? That I’m not going anywhere? Why does it have to be this way?”

They hang their heads as they silently clean you and you allow it. After drying you off and finding you a new pair of clothes to wear, you continue to ignore them as you climb into Steve’s bed and close your eyes. Both boys do the same, placing themselves on either side of you as Eddie presses himself against your back looping his arm around you and pulling you to him while Steve tenderly caressed your face. 

“We’re sorry, baby.”, he whispers. “You deserve so much more than this. We’re fucking assholes.”

Steve watched your bottom lip quiver as Eddie held you tighter to his chest and he pressed his face into your shoulder as he began to quietly cry. 

“I’m sorry, princess. I didn’t mean to grab you so hard. I love you. You’re not a whore. You’re our perfect angel. We can be better, Y/N.”

###########

“Hey, Y/N. Are you alright? You look tired.”

“Oh, thanks Glen. You know I’m trying this new routine—”

“Ok, ok, I get it. That was a little rude.”, he laughs. “You know, you always look beautiful.”

You softly smile as you turn towards your locker. These were the moments you wish you could tell people that you, Eddie, and Steve were more than best friends. Glen was a nice guy but you were in love with someone else. You knew it bothered them (especially Eddie) when men hit on you and it equally upset you when girls would do the same with them. 

They knew better though just like you. You knew when Steve stumbled into a room with a girl on his heels they were probably just talking. Whenever he would call you over at 2am sobbing about something you couldn’t understand under his slurred words, you were positive that the perfume you were smelling was most likely yours from days ago when you spent the night. 

They made sure you never had to worry about things like that…

As you opened your locker a note tumbled into your hand.

“Hey pretty girl, 

We just wanted to say we love you so much and miss you. 

Can’t wait to see you later tonight. 

You deserve the world, angel.

-Steve X Eddie”

“Are you, um, going to the party tonight?”

“Yeah.”, you answer him as you hold the note to your chest. “Steve is probably going to pick me and Eddie up.”

“Oh. Ok…I thought, maybe, you’d want to ride with me.”

“Glen…I…thank you but I’m just not…”

“Hey. No worries.”, he grins. “I’ll still be your friend and think you’re cool.”

***

“Geez, this fucking house is insane. How many people live here?”, Eddie asks as he takes a sip of the “punch” in his cup. 

“I think 3 but…”, you laugh as you wonder around with them. 

“Pfft. Jamie’s parents and herself makes three people who are never home.” Steve picks up a figurine and shows it to you with confusion before putting it back. “I will never understand why rich people buy these massive houses but are never in them. Our house isn’t that big but it’s just me or the three of us 99% of the time.”

“Ok, got it. When we move in together no big house.”, you giggle causing him to stick out his tongue at you. 

“That’s too bad. When I became a rockstar I was going to buy us a HUGE mansion.”, the metalhead muses as he glances up another spiral staircase that was blocked off. After looking around, he tugs down the ribbon, and grabs your hand to guide you up to the next floor. 

“Hm, baby. This reminds me of The Shining.”, you whine.

Eddie chuckles as he turns around and wiggles his index finger in front of your face. 

“Redrum!”

“Stop!”

Continuing to laugh, he pulls you to his side as you wrap your arms around his waist. You loved these moments; the moments where they seemed like their old selves before things had gotten worse. It gave you hope that you could save them; that you could bring the Eddie and Steve you first met on those swings back to you. 

“Hey guys. Come look at this here.”, Steve calls as he opens a random door. “This must be her parent’s room.”

As he stared at the massive sized bed with a canopy, you ventured into the bathroom while Eddie looked around the closet. 

“Jesus Christ, this is bigger than our fucking trailer.”, he scoffs as he flashes Steve who followed him in some of the clothes. “If you need a bench in your closet, maybe the closet it too big, yeah?”

The other man took a swig from his flask as his eyes scanned everything around him. 

“I don’t think I’ll every be rich enough to give her this.”, he mumbles causing the metalhead to abruptly turn his way. 

“Don’t say that, Harrington. Just because your dad is a douchebag doesn’t mean you won’t own a company one day. It doesn’t have to be his.”

“Pfft, said the rockstar.”

“Ha! Yeah. That’s if I can get my fingers to do what I want them to do.”, Eddie sighs as he begins digging his is pockets, finding his little vile. “Or my brain for that matter.”

“Maybe…maybe we really should slow down, ya know?”, Steve whispers. 

“It’s not that serious, Steven.”

“You almost choked her out.”

“And you fuck other cheerleaders. Do you really want to play that game right now?���, Eddie hisses.

“Shhh! I don’t…I don’t mean to. We go somewhere and then I wake up the next morning…”

“Yeah, tell her that.”

“I love her.”, Steve growls. “I don’t want to hurt her.”

“Well, I love her to.”, he sighs before patting his friend’s shoulder. “Everything’s fine, man. Trust me.”

The sound of you jumping onto the bed brings them back into reality as they exit the closet and find you sprawled out with a wide smile on your face. Crawling in beside you, the three of you lay there in comfortable silence as you listen to them breathe.

“I love you both…for who you are…I hope you know that.” You feel their eyes shift towards you as you continue. “No matter what. It’s always been just us and I’m always going to be here for you. I don’t care if we have a house like this or… a tiny trailer.”

“We’re not going to let you live your life in a tiny trailer, sweetheart. I don’t care what I have to do but that’s never going to be your reality.”

“Whatever WE have to do.”, Steve clarified. “We’re always going to be there for you, honey. You put up with a lot when it comes to us. Soon it will all be worth it.”

“Hey, I have an idea. Why don’t we ditch this party, go back to my place, and watch some spooky movies that will make Harrington pee his pants?”

Nodding, you giggle as Steve rolls his eyes. After running down the stairs, a face you recognized abruptly stopped you to say hello. 

“Hi Glen. I’m actually about to leave!”

“Really? I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” His nervous eyes scan Steve’s stumbling frame as Eddie bounces on his heels waiting for you. “You’re leaving with them?”

“Yeah of course. We’re going to go hang out at Eddie’s trailer.”

“You’re driving right? Or, maybe, even I can.”

“Oh, um…” Your own gaze shifts towards them, taking note at the longer you take the more annoyed their eyes seem to become. “His place isn’t that fair. It’s not a big deal. I appreciate the thought though.”, you smile as you give him a quick hug.

Before you can turn away, Glen holds you in his grasp.

“Don’t go with them, Y/N. Please.”

Holding your smile, you pull away and nod your head, slightly assuring him that everything would be alright. 

“What did he want?”

“Just to say hello. We have a couple of classes together and we help each other sometimes.” As you three search for Steve’s BMW, you anxiously watch him fumble with his keys. “Stevie, baby, maybe you should let me drive.”

“Pfft, I can drive, honey. I’m barely even drunk.”

Eddie’s arms wrap around you from behind as he tenderly kisses the nook between your neck and shoulder. “Come on, princess. You can sit in the back with me.”

***

Steve frustratingly tries to yank at the car door but it won’t budge. 

“Steve…”, Eddie calls to his friend as the sirens begin to wail in the distance.

“I can’t…the door…” Desperately, he falls to his knees and tries to reach for your hand through the shattered window as you dangled upside down from where you were still buckled in. “I can’t reach her…Y/N…w-wake up.”

“S-S-Steve.” The sound of sirens got louder as the metalhead panicked going into sensory overload. The sirens, Steve grunting as he tried different ways to get to you, the smell of metal and blood. “STEVEN! We need to go. NOW!”

“Eddie, we can’t just leave her here!”

The long-haired boy tugged at his friend’s sweater, dragging him to his feet. 

“Yeah? And you’ll never see her again if you get arrested for drunk driving and me for possession. She’ll be fine. They’re almost here. They can get her out!”

Steve had his own internal battle pausing only for a second when he heard the sound of you groan. 

“I-I-I…FUCK!”

Both boys run and disappear just as Hopper’s police car skids onto the scene.

***

“Hey, Y/N. This feels like a stupid question but how are you feeling?”, the police chief asks as he takes a seat beside your hospital bed. It had been almost two weeks since the accident and people could barely get anything out of you. 

Your parents had been by your side the entire time, holding your hand, and caressing your hair as you cried through every painful process the doctors put you through. Your mom and Hopper exchange a worried glance as you ignore the question, continuing to stare at the phone by your bed. 

“I’m not going to bug you too much but I was hoping to get some more details about what happened. We know you weren’t driving because we found you buckled in the backseat.”

Again, no response.

“We, uh, got a tip that you and some friends left a party at the same time. Eddie Munson and Steve Harrington? The car in the accident is also Mr. Harrington’s.” Your eyes start to tear up and you quickly suffocate the notion by closing your eyes. “Um, Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N, may I have a moment alone with Y/N?”

After your parent’s leave, Hopper comes to sit on the opposite end of the room directly in front of you, his gaze soft as he scans you over. 

“Y/N, you’re not in trouble. I know you didn’t cause this. I also know that you’re very loyal to your friends but, honey, you’re not helping either of them if they don’t face the consequences for what they do.” Your eyes open finally meeting his and he doesn’t faulter as he continues. “No one is in trouble here. I just want to help them and you. I also want to make sure no one else gets hurt.”

Shifting you gaze towards the phone again, a montage of everything they had been through ran through your mind. Eddie had lost his mom and his dad was abusive before going in. After moving in with Wayne, things got better at home but not at school or in Hawkins. People bullied him relentlessly making him feel like he was a freak who would never be anything but. 

Steve had basically raised himself being alone most of his childhood. His asshole father and absent mother were always away on business or even pleasure leaving him behind. When they were home, his dad said terrible things to him and broke him down constantly telling him he was worthless. While the boy was popular school, adults constantly seemed to underestimate him adding to his insecurity. 

They didn’t need prison, they needed you. It was just you and them against the world. Yeah, they hadn’t called yet but they would. They would give you a rational reason for leaving you behind and comfort you, telling you everything would be ok. Then things could go back to how they used to be or even better. Maybe this accident would wake them up to the damage their vices can do…

“I don’t remember who was driving. I just remember something darting into the road and then waking up here.”, you whisper. 

The police chief sighs as he nods. He can’t force you to say what you need to say. If that’s the story you want to stick with, he’ll write his report and give it to the insurance companies. 

“I see. Ok, Y/N. Thank you for your candor and I hope…I hope you feel better. I’m always here if you need to talk.”

Softly smiling, you turn your attention back to the phone as you continue to wait. 

They’ll call or come by. They love me. We need each other… I know it.

#############

[tenderlyrenjun]

Married

(Jisung ver.)

minors + inactive/empty blogs do not interact; fic rec blogs do not reblog without comments

a/n: repost, sorry; if people still hate it, I’ll take it down but please stop telling me that my fics suck; please be nice, i'm having a rough time in life and I wrote this in like 2-3/ish days … I’ve just been thinking about Jisung a lot; I think he’s neat

word count: > 12k (sorry)

married (og, jeno ver)

edit: oppa kink removed.

includes … afab reader, tw jewellery, tw food (not in a sexual way) established relationship, unusually clingy jisung, non-marriage proposals, reciprocal ‘ooooh you want me so bad’ dynamic, better than gold TDS2 in BKK body rolls mention, implied (and wrong) experienced virgins, lots of making out, hair pulling, oral sex (m + f receiving), lowkey exhibitionism, sex in a supply closet, first times, ass grabbing, vague choking, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, thigh job (m + f receiving), fingering, lowkey size kink/difference, creampie consent – homophobes dni; mark + doyoung are gay

again, minors + inactive/empty blogs do not interact

“Hey, my dad said Doyoung asked you to be the ring bearer.”

Jisung tears his attention from the engineering student portal as you kick your way through the blankets, teetering candy boxes over a bowl of popcorn, path dimly lit by the TV and Renjun’s candles. He offered, about twenty minutes ago, before you stockpiled half his snacks on the couch with him, to gather the food, but you assigned him to pull out the cushions into a kind of bed setting. It only took a couple seconds, as it always does for him, which is why, since the last movie night, he’s had an inkling suspicion that you keep having him unfold the couch. That, or you want to keep him out of the kitchen, on account of all the times he dropped and sprayed soda all over the floor. He makes up for it!, he hopes, like earlier when he got all the snacks from the convenience store downstairs – at 10 PM, if he might add. Granted, his long legs make the trip shorter than if you went, with or without him. Actually, once, or twice, or a few times really, whenever you go with him on those allegedly short walks across the road, it extends an hour, two hours, past midnight, not that he minds. Jisung never minds; he uses it as an excuse to take a break from the studying he scarcely does – on the surface, of course. His more romantic side holds your hand and tells you that he just likes spending this time with you because you study too much at the lounge in Square Garden.

“Yeah,” Jisung answers, “Doyoung asked his morning.” He takes the candies from you first, then the popcorn, helping you settle comfortably below the thin throw blanket next to him. A soda can slides down with the new incline and he catches it with his foot, placing the bowl between your thigh and his, beside the other snacks. “Apparently, his fiancé didn’t confirm anything, and they were a party member short,” he shrugs. “Are you still the flower girl?”

You nod, “mmhmm,” then crack open the soda he caught; you put two straws inside, pulling the blue one (his) a little bit taller. “Jeno thought I was going to be a grooms-woman though and asked if we were walking down the aisle together.”

Jisung scrunches his nose. That doesn’t even make sense. You all – him, Jeno, you, Renjun, Jeno’s girlfriend, etc. – are attending the wedding from Doyoung’s side of the family, at an unequal ration (he and his fiancé have three grooms-people each; you wouldn’t be able to walk with Jeno). But he makes no corrective comment, instead slowly unwrinkling his mouth. “I don’t think his girlfriend would like that.” Because he wouldn’t like it very much, no matter how many times he tells you that he’s not a jealous guy.

Jisung quickly takes a small sip of Cola while you still have it in your hands, and you raise an eyebrow.

“Why? You don’t trust me?”

He slurps a little too hard, choking on the sudden rush of soda down his throat, and pulls off. “No, that’s not – of course, I do –“ Then, you start laughing, and he pushes your chest, another smile widening into his cheeks. “Ah, you’re so …”

“So what?” you bounce back, knocking your shoulder into him. “So lovely? So pretty? So Park Jisung’s girlfriend?”

Jisung catches you with both hands, an arm wrapping around your shoulders, his fingers grazing your cheek. He pulls a serious frown that doesn’t quite meet the curve in his eyebrow. “Mmhm, yeah,” he answers the last one, leaning in tighter. “You’re so Park Jisung’s girlfriend.” His lips almost touch yours, thumb tilting your face upward, breath a poor, poor substitute for your tongue. “Don’t forget it.”

You wrap your hand under his wrist, pushing his arm up a bit further. He casts his eyes toward yours for a second but sees you staring at his parted lips. Your tongue peaks its tip, briefly catching his most prominent tubercle. “Never.”

You make the first move, for him, thankfully, because he debated, too long, how to proceed with you still carrying the soda in your lap. His broad shoulders envelop you when you fist his hoodie, dragging him and the collar down, zipper chafing his bare sternum. Jisung braces a hand on the couch, somewhere near your hip that his index finger feels, steadying the both of you upright. It only lasts a second, before you both fall into the pillows, and the cushions barely support you two, so you cling to each other. He readjusts your hips under him, your knee bending to avoid the popcorn bowl, which probably already spilled. Your hand slips into the split ends of his hair and pulls, drawing out all his breath, making his hand slip under your ass.

Then you pull harder, and his breath becomes audible, becomes a moan.

You – and he – learned this evil little fact somewhere around the seventh month mark – his hair pulling kink. Jisung met you after a particularly long evening class, holding a thin bouquet of pink tulips and couple bracelets in his trench coat. He kissed the top of your head, an arm wrapped around your shoulders, hiding you and your backpack in his large jacket, on the way to his car. You made it to the restaurant about 10 minutes early, but the table ran late, so the both of you sat in the backseat, pointing out the moon in mirror’s reflection, talking and talking until you were no longer talking, kind of like now. And you pulled the ends of his hair, nails grazing into his scalp, to get him on top. You ended up being late to you reservation.

“J-Jisung,” you whisper, cut off by the harder he presses his lips.

He shifts around the couch, aligning you perpendicular to the snacks, better lit by the candlelight, straight against the original layout, your head on the arm rest now – all without breaking the kiss. And his hands get more frantic, taking away the soda, mauling your hips, flipping his fingers repeatedly over your waistband.

“Is this too far?” Jisung asks when his thumbs sink above your underwear. He can feel the tiny organza flowers bulging into his finger pads. You both have gone through most of the bases, with each other – been making out, hot and heavy, since your fourth date; groping each other over and under your clothes since the second month; touching each other a little more south since that seventh month mark. He has seen you naked, too! Well, mostly naked; sometimes you wear his hoodie or only your underwear, which leaves little to the imagination, but still, he hovers and asks.

Your eyes blink slowly, opening just a crack but so obvious in the dark. He waits for you to look at him, following you up his neck to his face. You bite your lip a tiny bit, right in the middle, almost imperceptible until you let go, and he pecks you once, pulling away just as quickly even though your lips trail after him.

“No,” you mumble, also fast, jutting out your chin to kiss him again, sliding your arms around his neck, hands down between his shoulder blades. “Jisung, please, keep going. I want �� I want to –“ You suck in a breath and center yourself (and him). “I want you.”

Jisung grunts your name, popping his chest like a dance move before he locks himself onto you, rolling your torso with him. He presses your hips down, deeper into the couch. Your shins stand up, outlining him, giving his dick a small crevice between your pants against which to rub. Instinctively, he bites his lip – and yours, and you yelp, prompting him to apologize, but you yank him even closer, nails clawing into his cheeks. You slip your plump tongue into his mouth, drawing his out, and your lips feel even softer on his tongue as you kiss around it, kind of like that time you gave him head, back when you still lived in the dorms on campus. He barely fit those days, and each thrust would drag your lips back into your mouth with him; he basically trained you, since then, to take his entire length in one stroke. Same with his long fingers beneath your panties, which now unbutton your trousers. He crosses your leg one on top of the other, pausing, on his knees, to grind against your ass. And you both roll your eyes shut, incoherent mumblings spilling down both your tongues without the other to mash them away. Jisung dives down again, both hands shimmying off your pants while he kisses you, equally fervent.

But once he gets them down your ankles, your feet prepared to kick them off, the lights turn on.

“Oh!” Renjun groans from the entrance, a brown grocery bag covering his eyes as he makes his way into the kitchen behind the couch. “Could you not do that on the communal furniture? Please?”

Maybe Jisung takes Renjun’s words a little too closely to heart, or maybe he wants to save money by booking a multiroom suite with his friends, or maybe he really wants to make love to his beautiful girlfriend who he has known for years now, because he agrees with his friends on the shared unit, like his apartment with Renjun, for Doyoung’s weekend wedding in mid-Seoul near the Han River. Jaemin convinced everyone that they would need a place to rest and get dressed without having to make the hour/hour and a half drive back to their apartments in upper Seoul. The hotel also gives Jisung the excuse to sleep next to you (just sleep, Renjun glared, traumatized after your date night), which he absolutely loves, in a different way, laying on your chest, matching your breath, siphoning off some of warmth to you.

It was the first thing you both did when you got to your rooms – sleep.

Jisung dropped your duffel bag and his – both couple items – in an open armoire while you settled his smaller backpack on the vanity. Neither of you opened any bags, wordlessly and simultaneously collapsing on the singular king-sized bed. You sprawled out for a couple seconds, then searched for each other’s hands in the sheets. He turned to you first, after you intertwined your fingers, and kissed your knuckles, one at a time, doubling back on your ring finger. It made you giggle, which made him giggle.

“Ah, I like being here with you,” he confessed, flopping against the mattress again, brushing away his bangs from his forehead, a dumb, gummy smile spreading up his face.

He never told you this, but a few months into dating, when you accidentally stayed the night at his apartment for the first time, falling asleep on his full-sized bed while he finished a last-minute assignment, Jisung had this epiphany where he realized that he likes this, likes sharing a bed with you (he almost asked you to move in, but that would have been way too soon, especially for a couple of kids). Then, after he fixed your hair, tied it into a ponytail sometime before sunrise for a hiking date along the Yeongbong Peak Trail, he realized that he likes the intimacy of being with you, his girlfriend. And he finds himself, this weekend, on the second evening staying at the hotel, looking for all those moments of intimacy.

Like now, he sits on the end-of-the-bed bench, watching you fix your eye makeup in the mirror according to Doyoung’s navy and gold rehearsal dinner, matching a shimmering highlight with the trim in the slit of your maxi dress. You wore this same dress – and him the same matching suit – to some European restaurant with him a couple months ago. No special occasion that time; you just met him at a restaurant for date night after not seeing him all two weeks of midterm season. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, people said when he was younger and naïve and didn’t quite understand them enough to believe, but he got it instantly, in that moment, and essentially made a vow never to be that far from you again – probably why he seeks and prolongs these moments of intimacy, and why he likes your dress so much, among a few other reasons.

“Are you finished?” you call, a little garbled as your mouth hangs while you apply mascara.

“Almost.” Jisung looks down at the loose tie around his neck. “Just need to fix one last thing.” He looks back toward you, and you look beautiful and mostly finished, not that he knows, entirely, what look you will be completing. He just thinks you are always pretty. “Are you almost done?”

“Not really.” You pull away from the bathroom mirror, blinking a few times, then turn to him. “How does this look – Oh, are you not wearing the couple watch tonight?”

“No, I am.” Jisung points to his silver watch on the table at the other side of the room with his black blazer. “Are you wearing yours?”

You nod. “Yeah, I just need to add some lipstick and jewellery, and I’ll be done.”

Jisung stands up and crosses the room to get behind you. He lifts your hair in an impromptu ponytail, making sure to grab lowly as not to ruin what you have done so far. “I'll help you,” he half-requests, gently, already pulling your long necklace into place and clasping it at the perfect length. He spins you around to add the bracelets and watch, but you have yet to finish applying makeup, so he holds your hands and kisses you slowly, like the scene of a movie (or an artsy porno).

You put a hand on his arm, jerking him forward, leaning on the door frame. He tilts his head a little bit left, nose brushing into your cheek, and you copy him enough for him to feel your breath on his face. Ever since the first time he kissed you longer than a simple peck, Jisung has been obsessed with all the ways he can elongate a simple kiss. One way you do, and this doubles as giving him consent, is by wrapping your arms around his neck, which you do now, hiking your leg, through your slit, around his waist high up, practically sitting on the sink counter. It gives him a better angle, more comfortable, against the height difference, to bend his neck. Jisung hikes your other leg around his waist, sandwiching you between him and the wall, thigh supported by the sink, an ass cheek supported by his large hand, his pelvis pressing too tightly into yours. He brushes your hair to the side and presses a trail of quick kisses down your jaw that have your breath elevated, turning into whispered moans of his name that he has to kiss quiet.

You hold his chin still, about to return the trail of kisses, when three knocks hit the bedroom door.

“Are you guys do – Oh, come on,” Jeno groans, throwing his hands in toward the exit, swinging his entire body away from the bathroom (a private bathroom, Jisung mentally adds). “Wrap it up, people. Jaemin is one perfume spray from being ready, and we’re already five minutes late for the rehearsal dinner.”

Jeno leaves as quickly as he entered, but Jisung still scrunches his nose, making a small annoyed face at the door. You tap his arm quickly a few times, and he steps back, helping you hop down the counter.

“So … do you still need help?”

You deadpan at him. “Out.”

“Is it always that bad or am I just noticing it now?” you call from the bathroom again.

Jisung laughs and pauses the TikTok on his phone. “What? You don’t want to marry me?”

You point a half-used wet wipe at him, brown eyeliner smudged past the corner of your eyebrow. “You proposed to me twice!”

Jisung rolls his eyes and onto his stomach over the bed. “One of those doesn’t even count!” During your two-year anniversary picnic at the Han River, a few months ago, he proposed the idea of proposing when he saw a kid with a red candy Ring Pop. You didn’t turn him down, citing that you both already had platinum couple rings, and he proposed on the spot with his, even getting halfway down on a knee before you toppled him into the grass. Okay, maybe that one counts; Jisung rubs the back of his neck. “But all the aunties thought we were cute!” During the rehearsal dinner, they kept bringing up a follow-up wedding with all the couples – you and Jisung, Jeno and his girlfriend, Mark and his boyfriend. All of you treaded around the conversation, as if none of you have had The Talk with your partners yet, even though Jisung knows that Mark has a ring ready and Jeno has a date planned (and he has a proposal in mind).

You turn off the bathroom lights and quickly jump into the bed, hiding your bare legs under the blanket without him, fluffing his extra-large hoodie over your head.

Jisung frowns and scoots into bed with you. “Did it really bother you that much?” He knows that he jokes about marriage from time to time, probably brings it up one too many times, but he is serious about it. If you said yes, he would marry you in an instant. You would wait anyways, for a big ceremony, until the both of you finish your degrees and have jobs, him delayed a few semesters due to military service before school, but he would marry you in an instant. “I can talk to the aunties tomorrow, so they don’t bring it up again.”

“No, Sung,” you backpedal. “It’s just that I never noticed it before. Of course, I want to marry you. We’ve just never really talked about the details before. We don’t even live together.”

Jisung settles into the pillows, dragging you down with him, into his arms. “We could,” he whispers. And you look up at him, eyes wide, a hand over his on your stomach. “Move in, and talk about all the details. We could move in together, you know. Maybe not on Monday or anything, but, like, next semester or next year, or something like that. We could wait until after college, too, if –“

“Jisung?”

“… Yeah?”

“I love you.”

Jisung sighs, in relief this time, melting a little bit deeper into the mattress, free hand taking his forehead temperature. “I love you, too.” He rolls on his side and buries his face in your neck, curling his long leg over your bare thighs. You comb his hair behind his ear a few times before he starts kissing your neck, sneaking into the hoodie with you – there’s enough room for two people if he squeezes.

“Jisung,” you sigh quietly. He looks up, catching you close your eyes, mouth parting enough for your tongue to peek out a bit, flat with the way you bite it. And he kisses your neck again, a quick, wet one, licking his lips so closely that his tongue catches your skin. Sometimes he doesn’t have exactly the right words, so he rambles through the entire dictionary until he finds the right one. He also really likes kissing you. “Jisung,” you sigh again, a little bit louder, more enunciated over the wet smacks that he tries to make chaste, given the brief conversation about marriage. “Mmm, Jisung.”

But like he said, he would marry you in an instant.

Jisung kisses your neck a little longer, a little harder, slipping around the column to find a perfect vein that makes you whimper his name exactly the same again. And pliantly, your head lulls into his palm, kissing his life lines almost deliberately. Jisung turns you back to him with the same palm, pyjama pants rolling your legs open, wide enough for him to slip between. He grinds down, the first kiss to your lips, fingers coiling in the hair behind your head, freehand pulling a thigh up his back. You seem to get the hint, tying your feet on his spine, pushing your heels down to trap him.

“If we – if we move in together,” you breathe, eyes closed, lips pursed, “I don’t think we’ll get very much sleep – Jisung – ah!”

Jisung coasts his throbbing boner through your lips, milling his pants against your underwear. His waistband starts folding over itself, exposing his Adonis belt further and further and further, until his ass is half out, almost matching the way your underwear tangles between your cheeks. He brings you up closer, pulling your head off the pillows, fully kneeling, making indents in the sheets.

“I want it,” he tells you, hauling you into his lap, making you straddle him backwards, “I want to move in together, to sleep together, to sleep together.” He squeezes you against the headboard, quietly banging it against the wall just once, then louder a second time as you meet him, equally, trying to fuse your bodies together. His hands start roaming, and your hands start roaming, only settling on the best place to knead each other – his broad shoulders and your ass. “I’m not just saying it, I promise.” You stare at him a few milliseconds, searching his eyes, then kiss him even rougher, making him lose balance, and he accidentally kicks the headboard harder.

“We’ll talk about it later,” you tell him, mouths misaligned, kissing around his cupid’s bow specifically. And Jisung sucks in a huge breath, holding it right there in his chest, gravitating the entire Earth’s rotation around his, well, his penis, the lifeline, right now, to his brain and heart. Then you whisper, “I want it, too. All of it,” and he exhales and flips you on your back, making you yelp and giggle, which makes him giggle.

“Right now, I want you.”

Jisung leans down again, half a centimeter from your lips … when a loud bang comes from the adjourning wall, accompanied by your names. He looks up at it, mouth still puckered, hoping that the sound came from you two. Sensing nothing, he kisses you again, and a moan escapes him, and the banging comes back.

"Jisung," Jaemin shouts. “I can’t tell if you’re just watching porn too loud or you’re trying to have sex in a hotel room that you share with your best friends, but it’s 3 AM, and we have to be up at 7 for the wedding, so, for the love of God, please go to sleep.”

You laugh out loud, and Jisung covers your mouth with one hand. Then, as expected, Jaemin hits the wall again.

“Hello?? What did I just tell Jisung?”

“Yo!” Mark wanders into your room, eyes covered his long blond hair and a single hand. The other blindly feels around the air, as not to bump into anything, but he still hits the end-of-the-bed bench where yours and Jisung’s clothes are neatly packed in black suit protector bags. “Are you decent?” he asks, stopping in place, “The guys sent me to see if you’re ready yet.” He spins his wrist in the air. “Something about not wanting to deal with –“ Mark takes a chance and peaks through his fingers … only to find you and Jisung sharing wired earbuds, laughing at a stupid, silly, little TikTok. He breathes a quick sigh, petting down his chest, then deadpans and grabs a pillow, throwing it at you two. “Hey!” He snaps his fingers. You both finally look up. “Time to go, losers. My boyfriend’s already pulled the car around; Jeno left 30 minutes ago; and the makeup artists started on the Doyoung's fiance’s groomsmen.”

You and Jisung make no move to get up.

“Hello? Now, please,” Mark practically orders.

“Um,” Jisung squeaks. He scrunches his nose, pressing his tongue on his bottom lip, in lieu of biting. It’s still a bit swollen from last night, when you both kept kissing each other through messy hand jobs, wanting the first time that you actually have real, penetrative sex to be more freeing. But still, he did have sex last night, and the reminders show, under the blanket, where you don’t wear pants. “Can you give us, like, two minutes to get dressed?” He gestures to the heap of blankets.

Mark throws his head back. “You’re not even dressed? Of course, you’re not.” He groans. “Okay, you have five minutes to be downstairs, or you’re driving yourselves.”

The moment Mark walks out the door, Jisung asks, “Should we just Uber there?”

You smack him with a pillow. “The makeup artist has to get both of us ready. We’re in the wedding party.” Jisung flails over that pillow, making you drop it, and you roll your eyes, getting up like Mark requested.

“Ugh.” He hugs the pillow tightly, covering the dick imprint in his boxers. “The wedding doesn’t even start until 3. We could have time to just …” Jisung watches you take off your sticky black panties and pull on even smaller ones, words trailing off, because now his 7 AM boner remembers how he kissed you until 5 AM; how your hands squeezed above his balls, while he slid his entire length in the crevice of your thigh; how he fingered you with three long digits, thumb pinching down on your clit. Then you catch him staring a little south of the hoodie you stole from the last time he did laundry (Thursday, when you slept over), and he finishes his sentence. “To – to just re-relax.”

You roll your eyes again and put on the Adidas sweatpants that Jisung bought you a few months ago. “Let’s go, Jisung.” And he rolls his eyes, sticking his tongue out his jaw.

"Fine, but you owe me a kiss."

Jisung accepts, or, really, takes his kiss, outside the hotel. He stops you a couple steps down the short perron, dress storage bag, hitting his thigh from how fast he moves. And - while Mark leans against his boyfriend's car, calling Renjun and Jaemin down, who are also late - Jisung gives himself the time, the moment, to pucker his lips.

But it turns into a longer kiss, backing up Renjun and Jaemin, who were not as late as he thought.

“Two and a half years, and you still suck face? Are you two even dating or just making out all the time?” Renjun shakes his head sarcastically. And Jisung pushes him into Jaemin, who catches him easily.

“Ay-yo??” Mark calls from the street, hand over his eyes like a visor. “We’re late, let’s goooo.”

In the car, Mark and his boyfriend take the driver and passenger seats, obviously, and Jaemin and Jeno’s girlfriend sit in the pop-up row in the trunk, leaving you, Renjun, and Jisung – the smallest and tallest of the group – in the middle, much to Renjun’s protest. Though, he only jokes about this stuff; he actually thinks that the both of you are “so cute” if his cuteness aggression is anything to go off. Sometimes he throttles you two, and Jisung is scared that he might get bitten (by someone who isn’t you).

The drive to the venue (re: other hotel) is only 15 minutes, so everyone tries to stay silent, on their phones, still waking up, not even properly dressed, but Jisung, of course, breaks it, laughing and mouthing stop through his gummy smile after you respond to his TikTok.

[Boyfriend ♡, 7:13 A.M.]

hey, look at this

[Boyfriend ♡, 7:13 A.M.]

https://tiktok...com

[Girlfriend ♡♡, 7:14 A.M.]

Are you trying to tell me something?

[Girlfriend ♡♡, 7:15 A.M.]

Andy Park? 🤨

“Ah, stop,” Jisung blushes. He rubs up your thigh and buries his face in your neck, lips curling into your skin prominently enough to act like another kiss. You sneak your hand around his head, combing out his bed hair.

“What?” you whisper in his ear, brushing away the longer strands. “Not going to propose a third time?”

Jisung covers your mouth and presses a quick kiss to your neck. “Someone’s going to hear you.” If it were any other situation, he would take you on the suggestion, half-jokingly proposing with whatever couple ring he happened to be wearing at the time. Mostly, he wants it to be an intimate proposal, just the two of you, eyes on each other; the after party, when you tell everyone, can be the bigger affair, but Jisung wants to see the ring slide down your finger and hear your answer clearly with his own ears. He peeks an eye and finds you already staring at him, cooing. “Why? Do you want me to propose again?”

Dramatically, you take off your ring and plop it in his palm. He laughs, audibly, breaking the silence again, but slips it down your finger regardless.

“Ehhh,” you grimace at it, playfully, twirling your hand in the sunlight, “Same ring.”

Jisung grabs you by the neck and kisses you quiet this time, only pulling away to peck your lips repeatedly. His thumb brushes into your cheek, fingers drawing you in, tilting your head at the perfect angle to slip his tongue down your throat. Your head falls pliantly, supported by his wrist that you hold, following every twist and turn he makes to kiss you harder.

“Okay! Here! Everyone out of my car!” Mark’s boyfriend shouts, loudly shifting the car into neutral a few steps from the Grand Hyatt Seoul. He looks pointedly at you and Jisung breathing heavily through the rearview mirror. “Especially you two.”

[Girlfriend ♡♡, 12:14 P.M.]

Meet me in the lobby

[Girlfriend ♡♡, 12:14 P.M.]

I have a surprise for you ^^

Jisung waits on a cushion bench, fully dressed in his navy tuxedo, silver accessories hidden under his sleeves and high collar to accommodate Doyoung's wedding theme. He scrolls back through your car ride conversation, since he has the time, smiling to himself, curling into himself, covering his mouth as he kicks his feet forward like a middle schooler with a crush.

You are continuously cute in his eyes, and, as he relives this reminder of just how cute you are, Jisung doesn't know how he got so lucky. Sure, yeah, you two make out ... a lot, as Renjun pointed out, but he also finds you incredibly compatible. You send him pictures of the moon at night and the sun in the morning; you go out with him at 1 in the morning to the good fish-shaped bread cart (the one by Jamsil stadium after all the concerts neither of you attended); you cheer his name after all the physics exams on which he tries his best.

Really, Jisung could go on forever and ever, gushing about pretty much every aspect of your relationship. He loves you so much. And he used to, back when you first started dating, and he still does during your anniversaries (100 days, 6 months, 1 year, etc.). All his friends complain, especially the bitchless ones (Renjun, Haechan, and Jaemin), but he wants you in his life for as long as you'll have him.

“Were you going to text me?”

Jisung jumps in his seat, automatically locking his phone. He relaxes though, the next second, when he sees you, and scoots over enough for you to sit with him.

But you keep standing.

And he raises an eyebrow.

“What are you –“

You kick your foot up, through the slit of your dress. Jisung thinks you wear these dresses often, which he likes, never mind that Doyoung picked this dress out - a fact he tries to ignore, even though he's pretty sure that he confided this secret to his friends and Renjun probably let it slip after a few drinks.

You catch your ankle, showing off the white bottoms under your heels, below the pretty, silver watch that you will have to take off before the ceremony. Jisung, on instinct, hold you steady first, seeing signs of imbalance in your face. He waits until you lean on him more before looking at your foot.

"Why are - Andy?" he reads, vertically down your foot. It takes him a second to react, chest pounding fast, first, mind going blank, eyes flying to search your smiling face. Then, he returns it - your smile. "Ah, you're so cute."

Jisung pulls you into his lap, like a princess on his knee, and kisses you fast. He might have you repeat this when you actually get married, already filing a mental note to save the TikTok for inspiration. For now, though, he can just pretend - pretend that you did this for your wedding, pretend that you will talk down the aisle for him today (well, you go first, so he will meet you at the first row in front of the alter today), pretend that your white-ish dress is for him, pretend that your current rings carry even more permanent meaning than they already do.

You laugh between the repeated pecks, trying to pull away, but he has you vice gripped close by his chest. “You’re so clingy this weekend, Park Jisung.” And he draws back first, briefly looking at you before burying his face in your neck, arms dropping down your waist. “Someone might think you actually like skinship.” You laugh again and comb his hair.

Jisung squeezes your waist, just once, breathlessly laughing with you. He knows – he knows that he isn’t really known for skinship, having waited days, in the beginning, to hold your hand, not even kissing you until your fourth date; and he knows that he has been obsessed with you these last few days, so he kisses your neck again and confesses, “I just … I just …” He sucks in a breath. “Ah, I just want you,” he finishes lamely. “Can we stay a little bit longer? Here, at the venue, without … everyone else?”

You pinch his cheeks upward, puckering his lips at which you coo. “Did you want to get married today, too?” you giggle. And he almost hides behind your hair, if it weren’t neatly tied up, braided forward to your temples, but also, you hold him as steady as he hugs your waist. He wouldn’t mind, you know, getting married today, after Doyoung; the only people missing, right now, are his siblings (and a few other people); he might want to buy you a new ring really quick though. “Hmm? What’s up, babe?”

“Everyone will be gone,” he says simply, and you relax your fingers curiously onto his shoulders, fumbling the lapels. “From the hotel, they’ll be gone. Most of them are leaving during the dinner, and Mark’s already packed up his boyfriend’s car with their bags. We’ll have an entire suite to ourselves; we won’t have to check out until tomorrow morning.” Jisung swallows and licks his lips, giving himself a beat of reprieve before his tongue goes numb, making it impossible to voice the reason for his request. You stare at him, wide eyed and nodding, urging him to go on, even though it looks like you already know what he wants to ask, even though he feels too scared to ask. “We could, um, we could – oh, God.” He likes to think that, since you’ve been dating for almost three years, he has gotten past most of the nervous, honeymoon stuttering, but he (loves you so much) takes a deep breath and starts again, rushing through, “Wecouldhavesex.”

And you giggle.

He wishes you wouldn’t. It sets a bad precedent for the activity he wants to do; albeit, you didn’t laugh those other first times – when he kissed you, when you sucked him off, when he fingered you. So, really, Jisung has no reason to worry. He just needs to suggest it again, calmly.

“We could use the hotel room, later,” he alludes, monitoring your reaction closely, involuntarily stiffening his fingers through your silky, pale gold dress. You give him more encouraging tiny nods, leaning in with each micro-adjustment, and he copies you, nodding to himself, giving himself the same support. “To have sex,” he whispers, then repeats, louder, “Make love. Do you … want to …?”

You exhale shakily, and he hadn’t realized you were holding your breath. “Yeah,” you sigh. “Yes, definitely.” You grab his face, and he wants to propose again, possibly for real, to see you react like this again, possibly more enthusiastic. “Jisung, I love you,” you say obviously, honestly, “Of course I want to have sex with you,” you whisper the last bit, like him, and he kisses your shoulder, suppressing his gummy smile briefly.

“Give me your ring.”

“Whoa?” You blink. “Just because I said yes? Park Jisung, I never thought of you as a player.” You giggle again and hand over the mismatched ring regardless, probably already knowing the question he has written across his face.

He almost apologizes, for not having a new present, a new ring, something new to give you for another relationship marker, but he changes his mouth to say your name and holds out the jewllery between his thumb and index finger, which are shaped like a heart, nail pushing the center design at you. “Will you,” he pauses, dramatically, muffling a sheepish laugh. “Will you,” he restarts, “make love to me tonight, in the hotel room – our hotel room, after the wedding?”

You roll your eyes and push his shoulder, but he stays still, keeping himself upright to drag an answer out of you. And you answer again, definitively, “Yes, Park Jisung, I will make love to you tonight in our hotel room.”

Except, after the wedding, past the foyer at the reception hall, you almost fuck your boyfriend in a supply closet. He’d only been dancing in the makeshift mosh pit with his friends, jacket fallen down his shoulders, mostly sheer white shirt exposing his toned humerus. They kept cheering him on through the popping and locking and body rolls as he wore a pair of cheesy, blue party glasses that Doyoung placed on all the tables with dessert. Then, the DJ – Doyoung’s friend Johnny from high school – slowed the melody, pulling all the couples onto the dance floor.

All the couples except you because you stole Jisung’s hand and dragged him out one of the smaller doors behind the furthest unoccupied tables. He tripped over a few chairs on the way, praying that no one heard him, trying to catch up the half-step you have on him, wondering what dastard plans you have on your mind.

“What are you –“

“It’s such a crime,” you tell him, shoving him against a poorly lit shelf, inhaling his lips, running your fingers along his torso, finding the best place to hold him. The door slams loudly, which is oddly comforting, to give you both some privacy. And he drops his hands from surrender onto your shoulders, relaxing you enough to continue talking through the kisses. “You look so good, too good, Park Jisung, and you dance so well. God,” you moan into his mouth, ridiculously close that he can feel your boobs squish on his chest. “I know, we’re waiting for tonight and tomorrow, and – and –“ You pull back swallowing, realigning your breath. Jisung licks his lips. He’s been the one to kiss you all weekend, to initiate it all weekend, so he gets hard, instantly, when you return the same energy, finding him as hot as he finds you. “We’re waiting,” you reiterate, and he presses his forehead against yours, “but – but can you do that dance move again – that body roll again,” you glance at him through your lashes, “on me?”

“Here?”

You nod, biting your lip. “If you don’t – we don’t have to; we can go back. I just – Jisung, ah, fuck.”

You rarely swear, never finding a reason unless you’re frustrated or really turned on, and Jisung always wants to hear it, claiming that you sound really sexy when you say things you’re not supposed to, especially, like in this case, when you are doing things you’re not supposed to. So rather than responding, he complies, pulling his face down, legs pliéd to accommodate your height, then rolls once, thigh grazing through the slit in your dress, dragging it up and behind your waist.

Jisung groans, deeply, pausing to settle his nerves. He repeats, even closer, grinding across your chest, twisting your dress around the buttons of his shirt. And you fall into him, a hand braced on the shelf behind his elbow. Jisung bites his lip. Something juxtaposes deeply in this moment, but he cannot place his finger quite on it. He feels like a middle schooler again, waiting to kiss the prettiest person at the party; he also feels like a teenager with raging hormones, back to 19 right before his military service, jacking off in his room with lotion and a box of tissues; but he also feels like an adult (or the most adult a person in their 20s can feel) in an adult relationship doing adult things. So he does it again – the body roll, breathing into your mouth, chasing your lips down for another kiss.

“I don’t want to make love to you in here,” he whispers, despite rolling his fully hard dick in the crevice between your thigh and vulva. Jisung fists your dress at your waist, bunching it higher. Your panties expose, thin and transparent. His resolve nearly falters, almost completely fucking you in this supply closet with his family and closest friends a few meters away. He kisses you again and again, burying his words with his tongue down your throat, exhaling shakily. Then, he shakes his head, slowly pulling away, holding your face in place, hand around the front of your neck. Jisung opens his eyes and finds you already looking at him, your fingers wrapping around his wrist one by one. “I want you –“ He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, that fell out of a tight braid. “– so bad, you have no idea.” He grinds his dick up your leg as proof. “But not here, not like this.”

“I know. I don’t want it like this either,” you tell him, smoothening the wrinkles in his shirt, staring down his chest. “I just … You looked so hot out there, and, God, Ji, I want you so, so bad, too.”

Jisung brings his hands down, fumbling this thumbs back and forth across your hips, your dress bunched up as you practically sit on his lap while he barely sits on a half-empty shelf. You snake your hands behind his neck, fidgeting with the tag in his coat. He tries to fight the smirk that appears in the corner of his mouth, sweeping his long hair in front of his eyes, but you catch him and bury your face in his neck this time.

“Don’t make fun of me,” you whine, voice going up an octave at the last syllable. You tease him more than he teases you, verbally at least (he likes to think that he does more than you in bed), so he’s not entirely accustomed to his whiny girlfriend, and he kinda likes it.

“Never,” he tells you, sarcastically, chuckling a hair away from your lips before he kisses you again. “I like that you think I’m sexy.” He smirks, inhaling a deep embrace, literally taking your breath away with a slow and gentle kiss. You moan into his mouth, mumbling his name between colorful expletives. It lets him slip his tongue inside, confidently, crushing his lips harder and harder, needing you to come equally closer, to ease the pressure on his dick. He knows – he knows what he just said, but, “We don’t have to … have sex in here,” he tells you, whispering like it’s a bad word. “There are other things we can do.” He groans, throatily, chest rising faster.

You’ve done worse, honestly, in worse places than dry humping in a supply closet at a family friend’s wedding. He can think of several blow jobs in the library’s reference section (which has no cameras, by the way); or that time he held a vibrator on you the entire Starbucks drive-thru, resulting in him plastering his failed differential midterm over the windows as a cover up while he ate you out in the back seat. Actually, just last Tuesday too, at the gym, after he locked the door to a communal weight lifting room, you bounced on his long, agile fingers. Granted, it was 4 AM, so the place was already empty, save for a couple employees, thus easing his anxiety. And you could do it again, right now. You don’t have to take his dick inside your cunt, but you could give each other sloppy hand jobs, using spit as lube (or not; he's probably leaking so much pre-cum). The thought makes his knees buckle, making the both of you stumble.

“Sor –”

You cut him off with another kiss, your fingers flying to his pants, undoing his fly quickly. He grunts, involuntarily thrusting up. His dick was already pointing tip-up, the entire length, even flaccid, unable to sit snugly otherwise in his pants. You curl your nails in his waistband, scratching under his boxers. He nods his head, mouth parted, gasping, giving you all the green lights to touch him more, which you do, sliding one hand down his pants and the other onto his cheek, allowing you to deepen the kiss. Jisung grunts, again, plump lips biting your tongue, and he copies you, one hand behind your neck, under your head, anchoring himself to this moment (also, before he completely evaporates).

“Shh,” you whisper, mouthing across his jaw. “We have to be quiet.” But you make it hard for him (pun intended), holding your thumb on his throbbing slit, breaking his pre-cum into uneven globs down the sides. “Everyone keeps interrupting us, baby," you pout.

You take your hand off his dick and bring it to your mouths. He watches you, intently, lick your palm, pink tongue peeping just above the web in your hand, and he falls – not literally. Jisung bends in half, lowering himself to your boobs, silently thanking your heels, which have his name branded on the bottom. He kisses the highest part on your dress, halfway down your chest, then slides the straps down your pretty arms. You repeat his name, verbally – his proper name, after he takes a nipple in his mouth, tongue flat against it, massaging the entire areola. He sucks lightly, hollowing his cheeks, bobbing up and down, opposite hand enveloping under your unattended tit, but he’s too big, as is everything about it, and his palm rests on your ribs. His thumb and index finger pinch repeatedly, automatically, increasing hardness each time a digit swipes over your nipple. You have to bite your hand to stop from moaning too loud.

“Jwiseong,” you stammer, accented by the muffle.

You edge a little closer to him, pushing the shelf into his lower back, and he yelps. But it comes out as groan, vibrations making you match him. Jisung stands up fully again, taking a wide step on the outside of your thighs. He grabs you by the face, kissing you in the way he has been all weekend, a hand behind your neck and another supporting you by the ass, this time dipping you toward the ground. His cock flops completely out the fly of his pants, balls still trapped behind the slit in his boxers. The heavy air hits the veins in his dick first before it rubs against your inner thighs, and you squeeze them around him, both of you groaning, your skimpy underwear adding friction for both of you. Jisung moans your name, accidentally biting your bottom lip. But you say nothing, instead wrapping your arms around his neck, doing your best to slide his cock between your thighs. And he grunts. He can feel his cock pulsing to release.

“Jisung,” you mumble more coherently, “Jisung, Jisung,” you half-chant between kisses, but every time you open your mouth, he slips his tongue in farther, twisting inside your mouth, licking behind your teeth, goading your tongue inside his mouth to suck on. Your panties twist at the crotch, like a substitute thong, and his long cock, ridges and all, rubs your clit to ass and back again. “Jisung,” you moan again. “Jisung, you can’t cum – you can’t – oh, my God, Jisung,” you whisper-shout, forcing him to kiss you harder. He can’t cum on your clothes.

“I know,” he mumbles, giving your tongue one last suck before he pulls back, sitting on the same half-empty shelf, you back on his lap/ish. He lightly fingers away the hairs curtaining the front of your face, tucking the thicker ones behind your ear. “I know,” he repeats. You’ve given him thigh jobs before, humping between his legs, which landed cum on your ass, and letting him hit doggy style, which landed cum on your stomach. So, here, in the random supply closet, it – his cum – would ruin both of your outfits, something you wouldn’t be able to explain on your goodbye rounds. And he cums so much (it was embarrassing the first time, then he found out how much you liked it). Jisung glances at his cock, shortly, jumping between it and your face. He steadies his breathing and takes off his jacket; he undoes more buttons down his pecs and rolls up his sleeves. “It’s so … hot in here,” he justifies.

You nod, pulling at your dress. And he sees it – the wrinkles in the skirt, the slit pushed toward your strapless bra, your panties even tinier.

“You can cum in my mouth,” you whisper thickly, “so – so you don’t stain your tux.”

“We could just go back to our hotel,” he offers instead, really feeling the need to cum elsewhere.

“You’re fine walking out with this –“ You slide your hand down his penis, fingers not entirely touching despite getting tighter at the base. “– poking everyone in the eye?”

“N-no, yeah, you’re right. Please let me cu-cum down your throat.”

You rearrange your dress comfortably folded beneath your knees, hit jacket adding extra padding. Jisung sucks in a breath, then even more when you swallow the entirely of his dick, or whatever you can, stuttering halfway down. It seems he got bigger, all his cum girthing at the tip, waiting to flood. You skip the foreplay, the teasing, immediately hollowing your cheeks around the bit you can get in your mouth without destroying your esophagus (again, you still have to say your goodbyes), but he still grips the shelf behind him, knuckles turning white. Jisung bites his lip, forcing himself to keep his eyes open, to watch his sexy, sexy girlfriend blow him, so that he cums fast. In almost any other scenario, it would be embarrassing how fast he cums, especially with how much volume he expels, but you make it so difficult not to overflow the crevices of your mouth. You press your tongue under his cock, sucking in your lip over your top row of teeth, feeding his cock down your throat, and massaging the half you can’t take. He feels a vein scrape the corner of your mouth and twitches forward, pushing more dick inside. Your eyes water a little bit, lashes blinking them away, so he takes over, slowly thrusting his cock to gauge how much teeth with graze it on the drawback. Once he finds the perfect length, he sets a faster pace, squeezing cute little dimples in his ass until he grunts erratically, incredibly close to cumming.

“Almost there,” he whimpers. He knows that he sounds frustrated, but it’s not at you, never at you. He just wants to make love to you in your hotel room right now. “So close,” he pleads, again not at you, more at himself.

You pull off his cock and open your mouth wide, as circular as possible, and he grabs his dick back, rubbing your spit and cum and his pre-cum up his length, pointing the tip inside your mouth. The first rope shoots down your throat perfectly, then the next rope lands on your tongue. It keeps sputtering out this way, like a spray bottle, until it doesn’t, and his cum clings to his cock, dribbling down his veins, prompting you to lick him clean.

And you make eye contact the entire time, which makes his cock twitch. After you finally finish cleaning him off, you stand up and show him all the collected cum in your mouth, holding your tongue still like a cup. Jisung grabs your neck, holding your pliant head as you swallow what you can, in two breathy gulps. He wipes a little excess bubble from the corner of your mouth to inside, then presses a kiss on your neck, squeezing your collarbone, tighter with his thumb.

“Mmm,” he grunts. “My turn.”

Jisung sinks to his knees, pushing your hips against the shelf. He slides your skirt to the side, making a bigger slit for him to get under, and raises your leg over his shoulder. Slowly, your fingers tread into his hair, pulling at the top. He falls forward, closer to your wet pussy, lips ghosting a breath on labia. Jisung tilts his head to the side and wraps his tongue around the crotch of your panties, a teasing excuse to pull them out, to give him better access, his wide tongue swiping your skin briefly.

“Jisung,” you whine, shaking your butt on the shelf. “Hurry.”

He laughs. “Shh, no one can know we’re in here.”

Jisung pushes his middle finger inside your cunt, gradually making the interphalangeal creases disappear, moaning when you do. Outside, he kisses your vulva, jaw coming up, raising his tongue to your clit. He flicks it with his entire tongue, desperately sucking the little knob between his lips. You tug his hair again, and he swears that his dick twitches – not a good sign, so he works faster, adding a second finger. He sucks again and again, releasing your labia with suctioned gasps, working his nimble digits knuckle-deep repeatedly. In, out, in, out, halfway in, out, all the way in, out, in again.

His knuckles hit your pussy harder and harder, confining him to the small space as your leg wraps around both of his shoulders rigidly, his hot breath sighing back in his face. Jisung hums again on your clit before sucking harsher, lips biting every time his mouth turns into the flat part of his tongue to the tip to nothing, then back again. When he feels your feathery walls squeeze his fingers, he adds a third, despite the taut stretch. He presses all three to the roof of your vagina and curls, flexes each one in different directions, tickling that spongy little spot if two happen to land on it simultaneously. Your legs stiffen and shake side-to-side, but he keeps going, goes faster, not slowing down.

Until you relax.

Your legs go numb, and you almost fall off the supply shelf, so he holds you up, still licking your vulva clean as you cum and cum and cum across his lips.

It takes you pulling his hair again to stop him. And Jisung stands up, breathing just as heavily. He hugs you closely, around your waist, and you bring your hands to his arm. Both of you stabilize your breaths to each other.

You move first, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “We should go say bye to everyone.”

Jisung nods, blindly, not fully coherent enough to process the suggestion. He is trying to lengthen his refractory period, make his partially hard cock go back down. You’re so sexy, too sexy right now, and he desperately needs a bed to make love to you.

“So we can get back to the hotel,” you clarify, voice light.

And suddenly, Jisung is halfway through tugging on his jacket and ordering an Uber.

It takes every nerve, every ounce of self-control for Jisung to make it through goodbye rounds.

The first thing you did, before the rounds, other than sanitize your hands or fix your outfits, was drink water and pop a breath mint from the dessert table, then he kissed you quick, mumbling some random excuse about a mouth check, which turned into a five minute make out session halfway out the door that Jaemin commented on, on his way out. Even one of the groom’s cousins mentioned how he – Jisung – is always touching you, always has a hand attached to you, despite not even really liking to share food.

Chenle, he thinks, was the sole person to explicitly say something, catching onto Jisung’s mismatched buttons and your new ponytail, frizzy curls hanging loose. Jisung prayed his hands together, begging his best friend not to say anything. So he didn’t. But Jisung knew that he would hear all about it on Monday, from everyone in his friend group.

Jisung could only get through two or three more conversations, suddenly feeling like a kid trying to leave the Chuseok dinner, before his cock (which never fully went down, by the way) started straining his pants again, the idea of getting you in his bed as the single motivator to leave as soon as possible. He ended up pushing you, by the waist, in front of his crotch to protect his decency, no longer carrying his jacket because you wear it, because Chenle pointed out some discoloration, another bump low on your neck. You spoke for him, lying to all the aunties that he drank too much or danced too hard. They believed you, especially after he giggled into your shoulder, snapping his body in half to lean on you. It hurt his ego that they believed you so easily, but he’ll deal with all those feelings later. Everything else drowns into white noise, going in on ear and out the other, almost forcibly removed by the horny hormones his hypothalamus orders.

Also, he really wanted to avoid clean up duty. His hands need to be clean for post-nuptial activities, you know.

You have to know by the time he gets you in the elevator to your hotel room, your shared hotel room. He backs you into a corner under the camera, at the blind spot. You look up at him, wide-eyed, gasping when he rubs his thigh between your legs. He grunts, deeply, softly, and kisses you quiet. And he thinks, there have been way too many situations this whole weekend where you were required to be silent. But still, you moan and raise your arms around his neck (and he hopes that the security cameras are old and have no sound). Then, in his next move, your elbow accidentally hits an extra button.

“Are you sure about this?” Jisung breathes as the doors open to the third floor. Your room is on the seventh.

“Yes, of course.” You frown, brushing your hair through the middle, resting your arm on his broad shoulder. “Why?”

He scrunches his nose. “Just making sure you’re not looking for a way out or anything.” He tilts his head to the going up sign, and you hit his arm.

“I told you not to make fun of me,” you pout.

“Sorry, sorry,” he laughs, then kisses you again.

And he doesn’t stop kissing you all the way to your room. Just changes the location. You stumble out of the elevator, tripping on your dress as you pull away from him, and he catches your hand, giving your knuckles a princely tap. He pushes you on another wall, hissing – because he dick points toward the ceiling and, every time he presses up against you, it bends to meet you, practically drawn to your pussy – hissing something about wanting you so bad, right now, just another reiteration. He doesn’t know what else to say. Most of the time, you just moan into each other’s mouths, just mash your lips together, trying to keep quiet, so his dirty talk skills are … lacking. He just hopes that he makes up for it with body language.

Jisung kisses and hisses all the way back to your room, both of you knocking into the furniture. “Sorry, I just need you right now,” he keeps saying, excusing the way he practically rams you against the closed door to your bedroom. He protected you from sharp corners and your head from the impact, but he just hurts his hand. Jisung inhales. His hands cup your face like flower petals, bringing you taller, even more on your tippy toes. You steady him by his shoulders, relaxing your jaw, accepting his tongue, and he kisses you chastely, thumbs rubbing into the apples of your cheeks.

And he’s the first one to pull away. Well, you can’t exactly open the door without making the both of you collapse, neither of you balanced correctly on your feet. You’d crash to the floor in an instant.

“I love you.”

Your lips twitch at the corners, curving up your smile wider than it already is. “I love you, too.”

Jisung remembers when he had a crush on you like three years ago. He doesn’t remember when his feelings started, but based on the way everyone teases him, you included sometimes (if you’re not kissing him appreciatively), he’s always had them, from the moment he laid eyes on you reading at the café . And this feels a lot like that – the-the fluttering in his empty stomach, the tingling and hyper-awareness of his limbs, the rush to say anything, just to see what makes you laugh or what makes you stay. He even doodles little hearts in your cheeks with his thumbpads.

“I –“ he swallows. “I –“

“Jisung?” you interrupt, breath shaking out your nose, “Can we have sex now?”

“God, yes.”

Jisung kisses you again, having regained some balance in the beat. He thrashes a hand behind you, fumbling for the door knob, and when he gets it open, he dips you back again, walking you inside the room, supporting you mostly by the ass, hanging you around his neck like jewellery; he should really buy you a new couple ring later. Honestly, he’s mostly surprised by his – and your – breath control and not his core strength (that is what the gym is for!), never getting winded between all the kisses or tongues or teeth. And you – God, you – keep leaning backward, hauling all his 180 centimeters toward the bed, making him more and more impressed by your commitment to zero space for Jesus. You suck his bottom lip inside your mouth, sealing your top lip inside his, and he whimpers, knees buckling again, so he lifts you up and pushes you on the bed, kicking away the stupid bench that slows him down.

“I’m gonna eat you out,” Jisung decides, towering over you.

“Ugh, no,” you whine, squirming the bed into another mess of sheets.

“No?”

“Jisung, I need you to please, please fuck me now, cock inside. We did all the foreplay already, and – and I’m ready, I promise. I want you so bad. You’re so sexy. I –“

He returns his lips to yours, this time softer, sweeter, slower, cutting you off, this time, before you ramble yourself into oblivion (before he has the chance to take you there himself). And you relax again, shoulders slumping into the mattress as he crawls over you, showering you with attention from lips to feet. Jisung builds up his momentum again while you gradually undress, starting with his blazer, pulling one arm out, then the other, redirecting your hands down to his waistband again, starting with the zipper. You creep your nails over the tip of his cock, and he thrusts upward, pushing your hand into a claw around the girth, fucking your hand a few times. His length is too big, you both know, so it bounces over your stomach, almost like a premonition for how deep he’ll go. Jisung tries to get more comfortable, but he slips on your silky dress, the skirt flailing out to the side. The way he falls moves you on your obliques, and he brushes your hair behind your ear, away from your neck. You throw your leg over his, tangling your limbs lackadaisically.

“I – my – it’s too big.”

“A huh,” you nod all the way through your chest, toppling him, straddling one of his thighs. “I know. It’s hot.” You don’t grind him (much to his disappointment), because he is still wearing his tux and your panties are just way too thin and wet at this point (he hopes), but if you ask, and maybe even if you didn’t, he would make this the designated sex suit and fuck you in it whenever he wears it, regardless of the function (actually, there’s a charity gala coming up, when he has to wear this ensemble again). But he wants the intimacy of closeness, of vulnerability, of nakedness this first time.

“No, I just,” Jisung whines, “I need to prep you before you can take it – t-take me.”

You inhale sharply, and he feels it. He trails his eyes up, wide, to meet you, staring at your face, noses touching. Jisung waits for your answer; he knows that you want this too, so he gives you both a moment to collect yourselves, mentally preparing himself, too, for the next step. And a beat passes. Then, he unzips your dress at the back; it’s not long, the zipper, so he doesn’t have to wait even more, but the drag slows time and you squeeze his biceps, encouraging him to go faster. He slides the entire material off you, stripping you down to just your panties. When he goes to do the same for himself, standing at edge of the bed, you kneel, still shorter than him, on the blankets, and do it for him. You start with the tie, slowly loosening it side-to-side. It pulls him forward, and he braces himself on your hips, fingers twisting in the waistband of your panties. You get shirt and under-shirt off quickly, but stop at his pants, the top button already undone and fly down.

“Is – is something wrong?”

“I really want to suck you off again,” you confess, jumping from his dick to his eyes.

Jisung pecks your lips. “You can do it later. We have all night.”

“Yeah, okay, yeah,” you nod, kissing him languidly, leaving him to take off his pants.

“Turn around,” he mumbles on your lips. And this time, you comply, standing on your hands and knees, all fours. Jisung copies you, kneeling eye level with your pretty, glistening lips. He grabs your ass first, in both hands, pulling your vulva apart, panty crotch to the side, two fingers each, middle digits dipping inside, just an interphalangeal crease deep. “Don’t cum yet.”

“Jisung, ple –“ You squeal, falling on your forearms, when he cautiously licks outside, around his fingers, up your slit, and you shudder an exhale. “What h-happened to prep-ping me?” you stutter and whine. “You’ll feel so good inside me, Jisung – ah.”

Jisung drags his thumb down the line of your makeshift thong, rubbing round your asshole tentatively before slipping two long and flexible fingers knuckle deep inside your cunt. His other hand pushes your cheek into the pillow, giving you a head rest, making you ass pop up. And slowly, he draws his fingers out, then pushes them back in three-quarters of the way. He does it again, pulling out, extracting your moan, and pushing in, all the way this time. Jisung sets that steady pace, slow and controlled, and he kisses your ass, leaving a bite mark. It makes you yelp, and you squeeze your pussy, accidentally pulling off. You grind back down, meeting his rough knuckles. And soon, he’s finger fucking you harder, with three fingers, and you’re bouncing on his hand, your panties hooked on his thumb.

“Ah, Jisung, fuck, Park Jisung, that feels so good.”

Blindly, he finds his cock and holds it by the base, squeezing his hand like a cock ring to keep from cumming without you.

“I think,” he pants, “I think I need to fuck you now.”

You nod, enthusiastically, turning on your back. “How do you –”

“Missionary,” Jisung answers too fast, already dragging you into position. “I want to see your pretty face.” He hovers his cock above your pussy, between your plushy thighs, hand around the top. The thrusts once, heavy tip dipping to your stomach, that bulging premonition hitting him all over again. His knuckles rasp, kneading your folds, rolling your clit in the wetness, and your knees fall in, so he has to spread them again. “What if it’s too big?” he wonders out loud, shifting his cock to your entrance.

“I can take it,” you promise, bobbing your head. “I can take it, plea –“

He cuts you off with a firm kiss, smashing his lips ungracefully on yours, and slips the first quarter inside you. The kiss is less to muffle you, since neither of you have to be so quiet right now, more to share this intimacy with you. He adds another inch, shallowly thrusting to get his dick wet.

“Ah, you’re so tight,” he hisses. “I could fuck you like this.”

He thought he prepped you enough, but halfway deep, his cock already hits an impasse, so he tries something that he saw in a porno. Jisung moves your right leg over your leg, giving him access to your ass, jiggling your boobs. The motion pulls his cock out a little, and he pushes it back in, pushes more in, making you both groan.

“Full, so full, Jisung.”

“Oh, God, I’m going to cum if you keep talking.”

You grind your hips down. “You should.”

“I’m not wearing a condom,” he reminds you, gritting his teeth. You pull your ass, showing off the way you take him so well, and he rips your panties, exerting his lack of self-control elsewhere. He throws the tiny material at the wall and falls on your lips, repeating, “I’m not wearing a condom, and I – I cum so much.”

“I know. It's hot, you're so -” you moan, fucking yourself on his dick, slapping his thighs, taking him completely. “F-fill me up, Jisung. I want all of you.”

“I want – I want you, too,” he stutters, brain struggling to multitask between answering you and fucking you.

So, he pushes his palms into the mattress, squelching the rest of his dick inside your pussy, basking in your moans. You boobs bounce circularly every time he bottoms out, and he doesn’t know where to look – your cunt sucks him in, contracting around him without reprieve; your nipples taunt him, showing him something to bite and lick and suck; your lips part perfectly for him to shove his tongue down your throat, expelling a series of staccato moans mixed in with his name. Jisung settles for your collarbone, burying himself in the scent of his cologne marking your skin from earlier. His lips bite the bone, groans getting louder and louder.

“God.” He clutches your knees, dragging you so close. “Is this – is this okay?” he asks, despite not letting up, going faster actually, driving you higher up the bed, making him climb even more on you, chasing you.

“Yes, yes, please don’t stop,” you cry. “I’m gonna cum, Jisung, I’m gonna cum.” And you choke on your words, babbling incoherently, talkin’ nonsense.

“Come on, baby, you can cum,” Jisung encourages you. He stands up straight, thrusting in, and in, and in, bottoming out. He holds his cock fully sheathed, deep, circling his hips over your labia, naked thigh sliding up and down your clit. You claw his arm, dropping into his hand, and he intertwines your fingers. You squeeze his hand, and your pussy clenches on his cock. Everything starts choking him, and he loses his breath, inhaling and inhaling, mouthing at your neck.

Then, you cum, back deflating into the bed, lulling pliantly in his hands, toes releasing the tension.

Jisung picks up his pace, brutalizing your cunt, and you whine and squirm, moaning. He feels the veins in his cock catch more prominently in your pussy, like you don’t want to let him go, so he just keeps pushing and pushing and pushing, your canal practically wringing him dry, and he cums too. Thick ropes control the way his cock jumps inside your uterus, bouncing on your spongey, little G-spot before more spills out, forcing him to remove himself. He planks above you, head hanging low, sweat matting down his hair.

You raise both your hands, brushing it back to see him better, and you prop yourself on your elbows, raising yourself high enough to kiss him, slowly but deeply.

Jisung sighs dreamily, flopping down next to you on his oblique. He tilts your chin up at him.

“You,” he starts, pecking you quickly, “are so perfect.”

“Then,” you giggle, taking his left hand. You run your thumb and index finger down his ring finger. “Will you marry me, Park Jisung?"

[cryptidsurveys]

Monday, September 16th, 2024.

When you get married what do you think you’ll put most of your focus and money into? I can't really answer or predict this now because so much would depend on our life circumstances.

Would you freak out if you were to get pregnant by the last person you hooked up with? Uh yeah. For more than one reason, lmao.

Who in your life causes you the most stress or negative feelings? Even though there are people in my life who cause me stress (one or two in particular), I think a lot of it has to do with my mindset. I've come a long way, but I'm still learning how to put things into proper perspective, be secure in myself and my own abilities, brush things off, etc.

How many chances do you tend to give people before enough is enough? It just depends - on what they've done, how much they mean to me, whether or not they're genuinely trying to change... Also, speaking of "enough is enough," following my blow-up over Diane, she basically won't even look at me. Pretty sure she even went so far as to intentionally turn her back to me when I brought a kitty up to the office the other day (he chills up there during work hours). Like giiiirl, I only have so many olive branches, especially when you consider the fact that I shouldn't have to be the one extending them in the first place.

Have you ever had a teacher that also taught your parents? No.

What’s the most you’d be willing to spend on a pair of shoes? I retired a pair of hiking shoes last year that cost around 120 dollars, but they also lasted for about a decade. I'd be willing to spend that kind of money again for a good quality shoe.

What’s something you complain about frequently? Work drama and feeling burned out. Welcome to the real world, I guess…? It still beats rotting in bed while slowly sinking further and further into insanity, but…maybe not by much. :P No, but on a serious note - it's better. Truly. I might feel frustrated, upset, confused, and exhausted at times, but at least I don't feel utterly hopeless and suicidal. I'd rather endure the chaos of life and human interaction than go back to what I was doing before. It's just hard to adjust to social dynamics after spending so many years in isolation and missing out on so much development and experience. People don't really care about your past, your mental health, your explanations - they just want you to act right.

Have you had any confrontations with anyone lately? Not directly, but indirectly. The Diane situation. The Alex situation.

Do you have anything planned for the summer? Summer is nearly over. My autumn plans mainly consist of trips to the Mountain Park to enjoy the changing leaves, attending the Chili Festival, and eating as many fun holiday foods as I can.

Do you walk fast or slow? Fast.

What form of public transport do you use most often? I've only used public transportation a few times in my life.

Is there any alcohol in the fridge? I don't think there's any in the entire house.

Is any part of you sad at all? Yeah, but it's not a predominant part. The last few days have been better. Little annoyances here and there, but nothing terrible. Plus, I only have to get through one half day (Tues) and one full day (Sat) of working with Alex and then she's GONE.

Are you someone who worries too often? Most definitely. It probably wouldn't be inaccurate to say that 90% of my problems come from worrying/overthinking. If I could just shut my stupid brain OFF…well, then I would be too powerful. ;D

Have you ever been completely alone with a boy in his room? Yeah.

Is the last person you kissed older than you? Yeah.

Are you the type of person who seeks out revenge? Not really. I even try to refrain from taking pleasure in someone else's negative karma. Not because I'm such a wonderful person, but because I don't want to face my own karmic backlash.

Do you like falling asleep listening to the rain? Yes. <3

Do you honestly have feelings for someone at the moment? I don't.

Are there things in your life that you’ll never be able to get over? Probably.

Are you afraid of falling in love? Yeah.

If you had to choose between a million bucks or to be able to fly what would it be? A million bucks.

Did you ever build furniture forts as a child? I loved doing that! We'd even make forts out on the back deck and sleep in them when the weather was nice.

Are there any songs that inspire you? You could say that. Mainly classical songs. Sometimes they give my life this movie-esque vibe.

Is there anything on television worth watching at the moment? I wouldn't know.

Have you ever had an online meet-up? Like a meet-up group type of thing? No. But I've met people in person after originally meeting them online.

What is bothering you as of now? Nothing serious. Even my headache from earlier feels a lot better.

How does your hair currently look? Short and brown.

Are you close to any of your aunts/uncles? I'm not.

Do you plan on losing weight any time soon? There's almost always a desire, but I tend to maintain within a range.

When was the last time you used a disposable camera? Years and years ago.

What should you be doing right now, besides this survey? I should probably do some housecleaning, but…eh. I just want to relax.

Who did you last say goodnight to? My dad and my kitties.

Do people gripe about your work ethic often? That was the last thing Diane said before I flipped out; something like, "It looks like nobody does any work back here." Maybe it wasn't meant for me specifically, but oooh boy. I give too much of my time (for free!!!) to be muttered about like that.

Do you tend to wear a lot of make up? I don't wear makeup.

Is it still possible to kiss the last person you kissed? I am waaay overthinking the "possible" bit because yeah, I suppose it's technically possible, but would I want to? No.

Why aren’t you texting the last person you kissed? Because.

Where were you last night? I was at the animal shelter until 5:30pm and then I was at home.

Do you own any jeans from American Eagle? I think I have a light blue pair somewhere.

Do you hate it when people smoke around you? No. I smoke as well, so.

Have you ever been to Florida? No.

When’s the last time you screamed really loud? Idk.

What will you be doing tomorrow? I'll be at the shelter from 7:30am(ish)-12:00pm.

Are you friends with the people you were friends with 2 years ago? Yeah.

Do you honestly have feelings for someone at the moment? No.

Where did you buy the shirt you’re wearing right now? My dad got it from me from a store in the mall.

Are you wearing jeans? I'm wearing dark blue sweats.

Have you ever kissed the last person you texted? Yeah.

Has anyone ever called you a whore? Yeah.

Who were you last in a car with? My dad. I went to lunch with my parents at Fuel & Iron last Thursday.

Are you in a good mood right now? I'm in a pretty decent mood.

Has anyone ever told you that you have pretty eyes? Yeah.

Have you ever played the guitar? Not very well, but yes.

Could you handle living with the last person you talked to on the phone? I think it's best that my mom and I live apart.

Do you ever take your anger out on others? I try not to, but there are times when it happens.

What grade is the last person you texted in? My mom hasn't been in school for a long, long time.

Has anyone seen you in your underwear lately? No.

Where’s your phone right now? On my dresser, charging.

Have you ever liked someone older than you? Yeah.

Are you the oldest child? The youngest? In the middle? Only child? I'm the oldest child of two.

Would you rather be called ‘honey’ or ‘baby’? Honey.

[wildflowerteas]

Hiiii!! I am just one of the many people absolutely enamoured if not downright obsessed with your work!Just the authenticity of the storyline in 'when I awake', and how it completely altered my perspective on so many thematic concepts.and to also discover you were someone in the same age range really really made me admire you soooo much.I wish you luck in your life and whatever you do in general cuz you're a real gem 😊

I'll be honest, I don't make it a habit to interact with others online, preferring to just be a bystander, but I thought I'll just take the risk.If it's not too much of a bother I wanted to ask you: How do you find yourself able to write with consistency? To further elaborate my point, how do you write so much and keep that flow of words to continue on until the end?I wish to start writing as well, fanfic,personal writings etc., and I just can't seem to make progress after writing only one page,I feel like even with extensive planning and carefully organised notes I never seem to be able to produce a large body of work that encapsulates all my ideas.It's always just...one paragraph and then the initial meaning just loses itself.

Oh goodness,I wrote too much! I'll stop here I just thought maybe I can ask someone with first hand experience instead of just figuring out somehow.Hope you have great day and thank you so much once again!!!❤❤❤❤

Hii!!! Oh my gosh thank you so so much! I'm so glad to hear that my writing resonated with you, and that it was able to make your life a little bit brighter ( hopefully ) as a result. Thank you so much <3 This really made my day. First of all: This is absolutely not a bother, and I'm really really excited that you reached out! I love talking/interacting with people hehe and I'm more than happy to help!

This is a super good question. I don't really notice it in the moment ( when I'm writing ), but getting chapters out every week--with most being well into the 8-10k range--IS actually kind of insane. Not to mention WIA was 23 chapters, which is nearly six months of just writing and writing. I think a lot of that consistency had to do with my unhealthy obsession with the pairing, but also the fact that the writing became sort of . . . routine? I was always happy to do it, and very excited to sit down at my desk, crack my knuckles, and get started. It never really felt like I was slogging through it ( even though I would spend the better half of my Fridays-through-Sundays doing nothing but writing ). I think writing something you love will just be like that--exciting, and energizing--even if the writer's block hitting and editing can be very painful. That sounds a bit masochistic, but I really did enjoy the struggle at times. And ultimately, I came out of it a better writer than I was before. But something that really helped me write consistently was my desire to read the work when it was finished. Writing something you want to read means the only one you can blame when you have no ending is, well, yourself. And especially when it comes to fiction ( fanfic and personal works ), these stories are to be shared but ultimately they're for us. To satisfy a desire to tell, or to capture some part of our imagination, or to reason our way through feelings or thoughts. Now onto the next part of your question. Truthfully, when it comes to planning, notes, outlines--I'm one of the worst people to ask. However, I do have one thing that might be useful to you: I always, always, write with the ending in mind. I think even with little scenes, I'm looking ahead and asking myself "How does this get me to the place I want to go?" or "How does this shape the character into the kind of person I want them to be when the story is over?" That's not to say I don't write filler ( which I do--I love writing slow, nothing-really-happens scenes ), but when it comes to writing something full-length, the idea of having a set destination really makes the struggle of the journey ( in WIA's case, a journey of 230 thousand words ) feel a lot easier.

I also struggle with getting past the first page and even find outlines a little claustrophobic. Sometimes inspiration strikes randomly while I'm writing, and I'll betray my notes, go with the flow, and suddenly things like character relationships and even major plot-related scenes will be uprooted ( a lot of the well-loved and interesting scenes in WIA were 100% improv). I think falling into a committed relationship with your outline/notes can be a bit suffocating for creativity ( maybe for people like you and me ), while for others, it's a scaffold that helps them tell the story they want without wandering too far. It's about finding what works for you, rather than subscribing to a formula. It might be helpful to dip your toes into just writing and letting the story flow from your imagination first, and then when you have more than one page, creating an outline that is guided by the trajectory of what you've already written, rather than vice versa. Phew. You were apologizing for writing too much ( which you shouldn't, btw ) but I might be the one who has to say sorry! This was a lot, and I hope that at the very least, a tiny bit of it was helpful. Again, thank you so much for enjoying my writing, and for having the courage to reach out and ask. It sounds like you stepped a bit out of your comfort zone, and I really applaud you for that <3 I hope you're having a lovely day.

niko <3

[folkloristico]

I tried to restrain myself from sending half the ask game xd

😅 What's a story or scene you've created that you're a smidge embarrassed exists?

🥺 Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?

✨ Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it. 😉

🙋‍♀️ Do any irl people know you write fanfic?

🧠 Pick a character, and I'll tell you my favorite headcanon for them. + Marion

🤯 What's a genre you struggle with as a writer (ex. romance, action, etc.)?

Thank you for the ask!

😅 What’s a story or scene you’ve created that you’re a smidge embarrassed exists? 

Generally speaking, my first smut fic ever still haunts me to this very day, and I’m glad nobody ever knows it was written by me. Funnily enough, it’s my most popular fic ever—the power of smut, Ig? 

But related to the Winx fandom, I think the first fic ever I wrote about CoL, from Hagen’s POV. I still like most of the headcanons thrown in there and have implemented them in other WIPs, but I feel like the characterization was a bit off. I also used to find Hagen/Faragonda cute, but I really am not interested in them as a romantic pairing anymore, so there’s that, too. 

🥺 Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels? 

When a character has been keeping all of their feelings crammed inside of them for a very long time, and when they can’t hold it any longer, they snap, and it’s unexpected because they��re usually so calm and collected. I see this trope usually used in romance, but it has an insane amount of power in Gen fics as well—absolutely not thinking of Daphne here. 

✨ Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it. 😉 

Even though sometimes I still struggle to strike a good balance, I think I’ve gotten fairly good at describing people and places.

🙋‍♀️ Do any irl people know you write fanfic? 

Not really. I wouldn’t mind that much if some people found out I write as a hobby, but I find most people tend to insist on reading your stuff and that would be a no from me because it feels way too personal.

🧠 Pick a character, and I’ll tell you my favorite headcanon for them. + Marion 

I’m gonna borrow from your answer about Daphne and say there are so many I don’t know which one to pick.

… Let’s go with this. Marion is far more good at manipulating people that she would like to admit. Her mother was paranoid to a fault, even more than other members of the family would be—the Dominian royal family tends to be very protective of the Dragon Flame and as a result, they see potential threats where there are none. Queen Mother was no exception, and things only got worse when Marion’s father died. In her worst days, Marion still feels her mother’s voice in her own mind telling her not to trust anyone and to never show your true face to them. Oritel is swift to notice because despite not loving her at first, he’s captivated by her and spends a lot of time observing her. She’s very good at playing the court game, and she might have overestimated herself a bit when it comes to thinking she’s deceived everyone. Griffin also notices pretty swiftly, though it’s partly due to the fact that Marion dislikes her at first and so drops the mask quickly, basically telling her she’s only useful because she knows Valtor.

Daphne has taken a lot from Marion in this aspect. In my AU, she spends the last 8-ish years of her life jumping back from Domino and Andros, occasionally visiting other places as she studies to become a Nymph, and as she grows more into her own person she starts to realize just how much she’s good at manipulating people if she only wants to. This unsettles both Marion and Daphne because it’s something they’re not proud of, but the matter is mostly brushed aside and only surfaces post-SotLK. 

🤯 What’s a genre you struggle with as a writer (ex. romance, action, etc.)?

Horror. I guess it’s because it’s a genre I’ve never clicked with outside of a few exceptions, so my interest in writing it is as scarce as my interest in reading about it.

Send me an ask!

[eternalwritess]

hi! can I get a romantic matchup from hazbin hotel? please & thank you!

I'm bi and I use she/her pronouns. I'm an INFP and a taurus. I'm also the oldest child in my family so basically I believe that I'm responsible for everyone's happiness and I tend to make sure everyone around me is comfortable even (and especially) if I'm not – I'm the mom friend and the burnt out gifted kid of my friend group. I'm pretty sensitive and empathetic so for example I can get upset simply because someone around me is in a bad mood. I overthink every single thing in my life and constantly get anxious over small things. I struggle with my self-image and low self-esteem. because I'm afraid of what people think of me I find it hard to interact with people I don't know well enough, so I often appear reserved in bigger groups of people, but when I'm with those who are close to me, I become more open and outgoing. I care about my loved ones deeply and I could literally kill for my friends and family. I'm good at comforting people so others tend to see me as someone trustworthy. My sense of humor mostly consists of sarcasm and bullying my friends lovingly but for some reason people often tell me I'm funny. I'm also a very loyal, loving and affectionate person and I mostly express my love through words and physical touch. I'm a hopeless romantic.

as for physical appearance, I'm 5'5 with hourglass figure. my body is more on a softer side, if that makes sense?? like I wouldn't call myself chubby, but I'm not exactly thin either. I have dark brown wavy hair of medium length, dark brown eyes and light skin. I wear glasses. my style is pretty feminine, I love wearing skirts and dresses, and my clothes are mostly of dark colors like blacks and dark reds. I love wearing dark make-up and hardly ever leave home without maroon lipstick on. I also love painting my nails and wearing a lot of jewelry.

my interests&hobbies include: drawing, reading (I love detective stories and romance books) and listening to music (I'm a huge swiftie). I also watch a lot of movies and shows. I like daydreaming and I spend a lot of time just thinking about my fave fandoms, creating my own AUs and characters and whatnot, and I enjoy creating fandom related content like making playlists, fanart, headcanons, etc. another thing I love a lot is learning languages.

I love your writing and I'm really curious to find out who you match me with! thanks again!

𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕓𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕕 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙…

𝓥𝓪𝓰𝓰𝓲𝓮!

You were most likely a demon that she injured but didn't kill and when she fell she saw you and immediately felt horrible for it

Charlie noticed her feeling down and most likely asked her what was wrong. When she said that you were someone that she hurt (most likely added in a past life even though it wasn't true) Charlie pushed her to go over and help you out because of her whole thing of redemption

You were most likely terrified of her but she helped you out. Bandaging your arms and talking with you while she did it

"So uh... how'd you end up here?"

She was most likely awkward at first with Charlie beside you guys hyping you both up but you soon got to know her and you both ended up staying at what was at the time the Happy Hotel

As the hotel went on you both most likely started feeling somewhat responsible for the hotel and when Vaggie noticed how it might be affecting you in a bad way started forcing you to take breaks

"You need to take care of yourself... plus you can't help out drained and half dead or... deader"

Vaggie tries to control her mood for you making sure that she doesn't get too upset but every now and then she does end up slipping and when she does she feels really bad and ends up buying you a few books to read

She helps you reach out constantly trying to push you, not too far but far enough so that you're not just stuck in the hotel all alone when her and Charlie go out

Vaggie calls you pet names all the time and compliments you almost every day. Its constant hugs and kisses, she wants to make sure that you feel safe in your own skin

"You look absolutely stunning babe"

You and her have the same sarcastic humor and she loves that you get all of her jokes

She loves it when you nag at her and will always laugh at your jokes and tell you how great you are at making them she might try and get at you back every now and then though but in a loving way

"Oh come on that was a good one"

With her it is constantly cuddles and attention when she regained her wings it only increased. She would constantly sit you down just so that you could preen them

Your gentle with her wings and she loves it she constantly shakes them with excitement and will lay down on your lap afterwards snuggling up right next to you

She then will thank you with kisses peppering your face with them all over <3

[lycanlovingvampyre]

MAG 159 Relisten

Activity on my first listen: You know, for the life of me I cannot remember what I was doing or even where I was when I listened to MAG 159 and 160. I know it was the next day and that I was working in the garden at MAG 160. But those two... My brain just blanked it seems XD

Episode title "The Last"... The last mark... Thanks ashes, I probably would have never got that xD I thought it has something to do with Martin and Jon being in the Lonely. The last always makes me think of being forsaken.

Ahhh, the gentle crashing of the waves. I think I didn't really register them when I heard that episode the first time because I remember being a bit confused why I had the image of them being on a beach in my head...

JON: "What’s wrong, Lukas? Afraid of talking face-to-face?" PETER: "(chuckles) "Of course. Or haven’t you been paying attention?" Yeah, I feel you Peter XD (My fear sign is the Eye and I’m Lonely is my  Ascendant xD)

PETER: "So. What are you seeking? The image you’ve each created of the other?" You can only know a person in that way of the image you created of them. I can't know what they're thinking, or really feeling. I do think Jon and Martin had enough time to create a educated image of each other! This  capacity to understand other people is called theory of mind btw. I have a hard time getting into ships, because a lot of times I don't see them coming, no development, no tell-tale dynamic etc. I don't see this gradual and slow dancing around each other happening. This doesn't mean it can't be a slow burn, there are times a ship gets canon after a long time, but when they first see each other they're already so obviously set up to be a couple that it doesn't feel natural to me. I don't know if that’s an aro thing, but I've never understood this "love at first sight"... or even "love at third sight" although friends told me that this very much exists for them... We don't see Jon and Martin doing super much stuff together, but that's because it's not important for the story. Important is, that we know that it is happening. And I saw that with Jon and Martin. I saw them probably spending more time in the second half of S1 because Martin lived in the Archives and Jon is a workaholic. That interaction in MAG 40, where Martin almost starts crying for accidentally leaving Jon (and Tim) and the way Jon answers sympathetically. We know Martin fusses a lot about Jon in S2 ("very attentive to my needs" xD), and Martin knows about Jon's Distortion stab wound. And then they had lunch together at least once and I like to think they did this more often (even if Jon convinces himself he does it to observe Martin as a murder suspect - and while we're on it, Martin asked if he should bring Jon something from the cafe and Jon decides on his own to go with him... so he can't poison him of course!!!11). Aaaand then Jon finds out about Martin's CV, which also brings them closer. Okay, you see where this is going? None of these actions were already meant in a romantic way by Jon, but because of them he got to know Martin better. This is just romance (accidentally) written very, very well! Perhaps the fact, that it wasn't planned makes it feel so natural and not like a forced set-up from the beginning.

PETER: "The people you think you love don’t exist. Not really." So we've decided on counting Elias' not really in MAG 158, which was not-really 21. Oh, this episode still has a few of them^^ Not-really counter of S4: 22!

JON: "The Lonely and the Eye aren’t too far apart, are they? Not really. " Not-really counter of S4: 23! (I told you we're still getting somewhere^^) Also, I think the Lonely and the Eye are still tricky. Because not being seen, so being hidden, is also very lonely. Peter doesn't like being found, so there the Eye works against the Lonely (similar to the Dark with the Extinguished Sun being seen).

JON: "Come on, we’ve got to get out of here." MARTIN: (echoing) "No. No, I don’t think so." That sound effect while Martin answers. I have seen this often depicted as Jon trying to reach out to Martin, but just swirling through Martin like mist. But that is actually exactly like this sounds!

MARTIN: (wry laugh) "I really loved you, you know?" AHHHHHHHHHH! Although Jon told him it's really him, Martin doesn’t believe it. That's just what imagination!Jon would say. It sounds like Martin is talking to his own imagination of Jon, saying goodbye to him. He's saying this to come to terms with his fate of fading away now and this is also why he uses past tense. Because he also thinks he's stopped existing. If there is no Martin anymore, then he also can't love Jon anymore, right? (Just like in MAG 170. If Martin forgets himself, there is nothing left for Jon to know his way to.)

JON: "Obviously he’s done something. Peter’s done something to mess with you– Damn it! Martin! Martin!" Jon knows there is something very wrong with Martin, and it only took Martin to say that he past tense-loved him for Jon to notice it.

PETER: (echoing) "I tried to tell you. He’s gone. He made his choice. And it wasn’t you." Because of this sentence I always thought it was Peter letting Jon find Martin, so Jon could learn it from Martin himself, that he doesn't want to be with him anymore. Hoping it would break Jon.

JON: "It was for me, though. I’m the reason he…" Aaaand Jon isn’t so convinced about that. He knows Martin did still care about him.

JON: "I did this to him as much as you." PETER: "Yes. I suppose you did." Eehhh, bit of pessimism coming through though. And Peter immediately latches on to this to get Jon's guilt going. Telling him the fates of all his friends are his fault.

PETER: "You’re alone, Archivist. The last one standing." That probably made me think the episode title was meant to refer to a person. After all, being the last means being alone.

PETER: "perhaps it would be better if you stayed a while. After all – you can’t hurt anyone in here." JON: (seemingly defeated) "Yes." PETER (AS THE ARCHIVIST’S ECHO): "Yes." JON: (flatly) "Or perhaps you could answer some questions." PETER: (echoing) "…what?" [STATIC RISES AND DEEPENS AS THE ARCHIVIST SPEAKS] JON: "I wouldn’t try to leave if I were you. I can see you now. I can find you wherever you go." Poor Peter, getting played by everyone today... Played by Martin, which means he lost his bet with Elias and now even the wet paper bag of an Archivist gets him. I love it every time Jon gets all angry using his powers. And he flat out threatens Peter here.

PETER: "From what I understand, severing the connection to your humanity is a cornerstone of an upper-class education…" Yeah, that sounds about right. Only keeping people because you can use them, not because you like them. And at a certain level, you can't be more successful if you're not willing to hurt others, to live on their expenses... That probably doesn't make you very popular.

PETER: "I had no time for books or television, or any of the escapes and artificial friendships of fiction." Hm yes, clever that this is addressed. Parasocial relationships are relationships after all. And they are dangerous in a sense because with them you actually shape that celeb/character/influencer/whatever exactly how you want them to be. Especially with characters, they don't have a mind on their own, they are exactly what you make them to be. And that's probably without any flaws that bother you, ever in favor of you. That friend, who is just perfect. And that can keep you from making actual friends. Because real people aren't perfect, they won't always do what you want to do and that's complicated and frustrating. Why stick around with them, when there's this perfect person just around the corner of your mind.

PETER: "My crew is out there, waiting for a call I think I am now unlikely ever to give them." Does that mean he's already suspecting not to get out of this alive?

PETER: "The thing is, the loneliness I crave, that fills my heart with that reassuring unease, relies on distance from other people. But a world without people at all, or at least anything I would recognize as people…? It is meaningless. Without the lighted window in the distance, how am I to see myself apart from it?" Hmmm, and that is what makes the Lonely close to the Eye, even though the Eye can be very dangerous for the Lonely.

You know, Peter's ritual could have been a perfect reverse panopticon. (And therefore a perfect middlefinger as celebration to his 5th divorce with Elias xD) Picture a round building, spread out the windows and you would never be able to see the neighboring one around the corner. So instead of being able to see everyone on the inside, you can't see anyone on the outside.

I'm not a flat-person, but Peter's design sounds actually wonderful to me...? xD

PETER: "Do you know how she did it? What devastating weapon she used to derail my plan? The newspaper. She tipped off someone in The Guardian." Yeah, even when not looking at the consequence of people not wanting to rent any of Lukas' flat anymore, I'm guessing the press can also be very invasive. Peter must have hated that.

JON: "hat was his prize? What did he get if you lost?" PETER: (disinterested) "Oh, he got you." This might be the most last-minute foreshadowing in TMA xD

JON: "Tell me, or I will rip it out of you." PETER: "No…" [THE STATIC GROWS LOUDER.] JON: "Answer my question!" PETER: (echoing again) "No! Leave… me… ALONE!" JON: "TELL ME!" [THE SQUEALING CRESCENDOS AS THE ARCHIVIST RIPS PETER LUKAS APART. LUKAS LETS OUT A FINAL DEFIANT SCREAM THAT FADES INTO THE REGULAR STATIC.] After Brutal Pipe Murder this might be the second most brutal thing we hear live on TMA. That splash-sound, letting us know that he was indeed ripped apart, blood and gore splattering all over the place. I never had the impression that this was Jon's intention. I always thought it was very clear, that this is exactly how Alex and Jonny described it in one of the Q&As - like pulling on a person's arm with enormous strength for so long it finally just rips off.

JON: "But we need you. (desperately) I need you." OMG this is happening *OFMD Lucius style*

MARTIN: "No, you don’t. Not really." There it is... the TRUE reason this episode is called The Last. Because this is the last not-really of S4. It has been an honor to point this out and perhaps ruin this a bit for some of you now that you're aware of it and can't unhear it. And with these words, I now will say for The Last time: Not-really counter of S4: 24!

JON: "I don’t just want to survive!" MARTIN: "I’m sorry." JON: "Martin. Martin, look at me. Look at me and tell me what you see." Jon can't get through to Martin, not by talking. But a picture is worth more than a thousand words.

MARTIN: "I see…" [MARTIN’S VOICE QUAVERS.] MARTIN: "I see you, Jon." [HE LETS OUT AN INCREDULOUS CHUCKLE, THEN ANOTHER. HIS ECHO GOES AWAY.] MARTIN: "I see you." JON: (relieved) "Martin." [MARTIN’S BREATHING GETS FASTER. HE SOBS, HIS VOICE BREAKING.] Ahhhh, this is really happening!!! (Jon let Martin see his love, right? Let him feel it! God, I can imagine so well how Jon takes Martin's face in his hands so he has to look at him. And then Martin breaks down and Jon just goes in to embrace him.)

MARTIN: "I… I was on my own. I was all on my own." JON: "Not anymore. Come on. Let’s go home." MARTIN: "How?" JON: "Don’t worry. I know the way." [THEY BEGIN TO WALK, AND THE TAPE ENDS.] This did happen! Jon takes Martin's hand and safely leads them out of the mist of the Lonely, right? I wonder though... Where did they come out? I feel like at the panopticon again would be a bit dangerous for Jonah. If they came out right there again, why didn't they, say, take Jonah's body with them? Drag him off his throne, take his power from him. I mean, a bit unromantic, sure, finally hand in hand with the one you love and then there's this old corpse of a third wheel, urgh... But Elias was very insistent to get Jon to grow his powers, he didn't do that for nothing. There still is something Elias wants with Jon.

Well, that's it folks, this was The Magnus Archives! They went home and lived happily ever after, right?.... Right?...

Those two scenes with Jon and Martin were just written beautifully, it was perfect! I was so psyched for them to finally be together, that pining was almost unbearable! (almost!) Not just is JonMartin a wonderful slow burn with lots of unresolved tension (like S4 was perfect for this, have another obstacle to drag this out even more the moment the other person finally realizes their feelings! And again, it didn't feel forced. Often these obstacles in slow burn romances get pretty ridiculous and you can see how this was done just to keep them apart even longer.), this is also not the end of it! I love slow burns, but I hate having the ship finally getting canon on the very last episode(s) of the entire series! It's so frustrating, it's what you're waiting for the whole time and then you don't get to actually enjoy it because the story is over. And even this TMA does exactly how I like it, because this is only S4 and we still get an entire season canon JonMartin! Not gonna lie, there were certain ships I liked and routed for, Adrienette (Miraculous), Catradora (She-Ra), but I was never die-hard invested in them. JonMartin hit me like a train! I never got this borderline obsessiveness with some ships (a good friend of mine for example is a HUUUGE Stucky fan) and yeah, I get it now. And it's not even, that this plot point was sooo surprising for me because that was the one thing I caught a spoiler of, JonMartin. Buuuut, it was only sometime at the beginning of S3, and I already saw potential for them as a ship by the end of S1 and beginning of S2, so even the spoiler wasn't that big of a surprise to me. And I of course didn't know when and how it would happen, only that it's going to be canon.

@a-mag-a-day (also thanks for reblogging my What-if fanart of MAG 158!! I totally forgot I had that, lol

[tumbleringismycopingmechanism]

11-33, 36, 37, 40, 41

Thanks for all the asks! (Totally not using this to procrastinate learning for my next exam 🙈)

11: Best friend?

Tbh, noone really comes to mind. I'm not really good at holding contact, so I don't really talk to my school friends anymore, and I'm awful at making new friends, so I don't have any friends from uni either. The only people I consider friends currently are the handful of people that text with me on here, but I've known most of them for less than a year (heck, mostly even less than half a year) and we usually only text like once or twice a week (sometimes less), so I don't think any of them count as a best friend either.

12: Relationship status

I'm single and have been wondering for a while now if maybe I should try to remain single because I'm not sure I'm fit for a relationship rn

13: Biggest turn ons

I'm not sure how to answer that, because while I'm into wg stuff and bigger guys, I'm not sure it turns me on irl (as in, I will find it cute/sexy but I'm not sure I'd get sexually turned on, if that makes sense. I'm not really fond of the idea of having sex anyways, and the only times I kissed someone so far I disliked it as well, which is why I'm wondering if I'm somewhere on the ace spec.)

14: Biggest turn offs

Well, for one, an unlikeable personality (e.g. if someone's racist, sexist etc., doesn't matter how hot their body may be, I'm turned off). Apart from that, I'd advise you to look at the jars on my pinned post. Pretty much every one that is empty is gonna be a turn off for me.

15: Favorite movie

I'm a sucker for Sleeping Beauty (1959). (I'm a sucker for fairytales and their retellings in general, but this movie is the one dearest to me.)

16: I’ll love you if

... you spend time with me without me having to ask (or beg) you for it. Because most people don't.

17: Someone you miss

Weird as it may sound, some of my old teachers

18: Most traumatic experience

I think the one that has influenced my life the most is probably my best friend that I'd had since kindergarden deciding overnight that not only we weren't friends anymore, but to bully me through the entirety of 4th grade. (The breaking with me as friends part was well justified, the bullying feels like it was probably the over-reaction of a 10-year-old.)

19: A fact about your personality

I love being amongst people, until I realize that I'm shit at interacting and that me being there is no different to me not being there - then I get melancholic and need a break or leave entirely

20: What I hate most about myself

My social incompetence and my competitiveness as well as my eagerness to please

21: What I love most about myself

My creativity (though I'm usually not capable of expressing it in the way I want to)

22: What I want to be when I get older

Happy

23: My relationship with my sibling(s)

Could be better. I think both of my sisters dislike me for opposing reasons

24: My relationship with my parent(s)

Could be better. I feel like neither of them was really there for me growing up, but now that I'm an adult they seem to wanna rectify that - which just feels weird because it's like two strangers suddenly want to spend time with me

25: My idea of a perfect date

I've always wanted to lie underneath the stars and stare up into the universe with someone

26: My biggest pet peeves

The only one that comes to mind rn is my sister somehow managing to drop water on half our bathroom floor when taking the two steps from the sink to the towels every single time. (I'm sure I have tons more though)

27: A description of the girl/boy I like

Edit: almost forgot this one.

Well, in general, kind men with a chubby figure

28: A description of the person I dislike the most

Okay, so the first one that comes to mind is a girl I went to school with. She was usually a huge bitch but when she was in a somewhat decent mood she'd always act super casual, like she didn't spend 99% of her day trying to find new ways to mock/insult you. I also suspect she's kind of a gold digger, because the guy she dated (and still dates) has the personality of a brick but is really fucking loaded

29: A reason I’ve lied to a friend

The only thing that comes to mind rn is that I was super ashamed of my crush in high school, so whenever my friends asked if there was someone I found cute, I'd lie and say there wasn't

30: What I hate the most about work/school

The pressure of it all. I usually feel like I should be ashamed when I spend even a minute on myself, because there's always something else I could/should do for uni (like right now for example...). But also, all courses make it seem like there's exactly one proper way to be a teacher, and if you don't fit into that, you fail your students (like, supposedly as a teacher you should be capable of making your students interested in your subject, make sure they don't get any mental health problems because of school, teach the subject in a way that shows the students how it connects to (their) everyday life, follow the curriculum, be close to your students but not too close, anticipate and avoid any misconceptions that may apear, etc.). Idk, it just feels like a bit much sometimes, especially when you have to have all of that in the back of your mind while standing in front of 30 people and teach.

31: What your last text message says

It's in German, but it roughly translates to "I'm leaving soon; is there anything I should take with me for you?"

32: What words upset me the most

In the recent past:

Being accused of fetishising gay people (and my sister half-agreeing with the accusation)

My mother sometimes casually refering to the time spent with me instead of working as "time wasted"

Someone telling me that a compliment I got from a teacher at the end of my school time wasn't as special as I had hoped, because it's something they say regularly to students when they graduate

33: What words make me feel the best about myself

Honestly, I'm not sure words can do anything to make me feel good about myself anymore. I'm so used to getting nice words but actions that don't match them that I think at this point my default is just smiling, thanking you for the kind words (maybe giving you some in return, if I can think of them quick enough) and feeling hollow inside

36: Where I would like to live

I like my home town and plan on moving back there when I'm done studying

37: One of my insecurities

My weight/figure

40: Who wish I could be

Depends on my mood. Sometimes I wish I were literally anyone else. Sometimes it almost feels enough to just want to be the best version of myself. Sometimes I want to be a version of me that I know will never exist. 🤷‍♀️

41: Where I want to be right now

Approximately a week in the past, actually studying for my exam instead of putting it off for so long. (Also, once the exam is over my answer might be France or Italy, or maybe somewhere I've never been before.)

[say-duhnelle]

Listen, bitch,

The fundamental problems with the Tumblr UX that have been driving people away for the past several years are a lot simpler than anything you have laid out here. It boils down to a couple of basic principles:

1) The site often does not work. Including, but not limited to:

a) Bugs and crashes - not just on app either

b) Autoplaying audio or otherwise obnoxious ads, with no on-ad option to hide or report. Weeks ago y'all said all ads should now have a "report ad" button directly on the ad. At least on Android this still has not arrived! Why the fuck you lyin', etc. etc.

c) No uniformity of features between desktop and mobile and an apparent complete lack of give-a-damn from y'all about it. I am STILL waiting for archive view on mobile... It's been 9 years since you launched the current incarnation of your app...

d) Search and tags are a disaster area and completely unreliable for actually finding anything. On individual blogs, they may not work at all, and on general site search, results are often completely irrelevant to the terms actually searched - while posts actually germane to their tag get excluded from public view for daring to feature... horror of horrors... A HYPERLINK TO AN INNOCUOUS, TRUSTWORTHY WEBSITE!!!! (wilhelm scream)

2) The site doesn't work 2, electric boogaloo: SPAM BOT PROBLEM

a) This has been ongoing for eleven years that I know of and serious enough to constantly affect UX for at least six of those

b) We know you know about this because you regularly acknowledge it with a resounding "🤷🙃 Nothing we can do! Do our moderating for us, unpaid, or stop fucking whining about it!" kinda attitude

c) Yet if there were truly nothing to be done, why do certain other, much larger social media sites seem to never present nearly as many problems with this despite ostensibly being a space that will provide much higher returns on spam due to the much higher traffic levels? Yes there are spammers on FB, TWT, and Insta but I don't have to spend my first ten minutes on each of these apps blocking them every goddamn day of my goddamn life...!

3) The structure of the site encourages a very adversarial model of interaction

a) Obviously to some extent this is what makes Tumblr unique and should not go away

b) However, at least on other (Twitter) sites where this sort of content model is in play, blocking actually works and you never have to see content created by the person you blocked again, nor worry they will be seeing yours

c) On Tumblr you can't even block someone from your fucking sideblogs on the mobile app. And any block you do is incomplete, because you can still see each other's comments on posts that cross your dash, for example if you happen to be in a smaller fandom where the same posts go around and get comments from lots of different people. (Look, I know this is a clash between the content being presented as intended and the user's privacy, but I believe the user's privacy ought to win - particularly as that's the justification for the stupid sideblog blocking problem to befuckin'gin with!)

d) I do appreciate that staff has made (one, half-assed) effort to give users more control over this lately (reblog controls could easily have a much more continuous range than just "all" or "none" and you know it); I do NOT appreciate that you basically cancelled it out with the introduction of Public Shaming Blaze although thank fuck y'all at least had the good sense to give OP veto power on that

e) Enforce your own goddamn TOS against the TERFs, nazis and other hateful communities and individuals on this site when we report them to you, jackasses. This ain't hard.

In the message above, y'all stated (bold and italic!):

"If the user has a bad content experience, the fault lies with the product."

Take that mindset, and apply it to the things that we have wanted fixed for years, instead of using it as an excuse to shove an algorithm down new users' throats. (Because I bet your plan for making the site easier to use for them doesn't involve a tour of how to switch off all the irritating ways y'all have dreamt up to shove algorithm shit in places we never wanted it over the years.) Remember - your long term viability isn't about how many new users you can add so much as whether you can RETAIN them - there's loads of accounts on here which are technically still "active" but have not posted since December 17, 2018 or shortly thereafter and they ain't doing jack or shit for your company's value now. If new users get in here, have a look around, go "hmm this place is a poorly maintained shithole where you constantly have to block spamblogs and can't effectively block or report people who hate you" and immediately leave, there is still no net benefit to the site's bottom line no matter how many "lurkers" you momentarily convert into account holders.

Tumblr’s Core Product Strategy

Here at Tumblr, we’ve been working hard on reorganizing how we work in a bid to gain more users. A larger user base means a more sustainable company, and means we get to stick around and do this thing with you all a bit longer. What follows is the strategy we're using to accomplish the goal of user growth. The @labs group has published a bit already, but this is bigger. We’re publishing it publicly for the first time, in an effort to work more transparently with all of you in the Tumblr community. This strategy provides guidance amid limited resources, allowing our teams to focus on specific key areas to ensure Tumblr’s future.

The Diagnosis

In order for Tumblr to grow, we need to fix the core experience that makes Tumblr a useful place for users. The underlying problem is that Tumblr is not easy to use. Historically, we have expected users to curate their feeds and lean into curating their experience. But this expectation introduces friction to the user experience and only serves a small portion of our audience. 

Tumblr’s competitive advantage lies in its unique content and vibrant communities. As the forerunner of internet culture, Tumblr encompasses a wide range of interests, such as entertainment, art, gaming, fandom, fashion, and music. People come to Tumblr to immerse themselves in this culture, making it essential for us to ensure a seamless connection between people and content. 

To guarantee Tumblr’s continued success, we’ve got to prioritize fostering that seamless connection between people and content. This involves attracting and retaining new users and creators, nurturing their growth, and encouraging frequent engagement with the platform.

Our Guiding Principles

To enhance Tumblr’s usability, we must address these core guiding principles.

Expand the ways new users can discover and sign up for Tumblr.

Provide high-quality content with every app launch.

Facilitate easier user participation in conversations.

Retain and grow our creator base.

Create patterns that encourage users to keep returning to Tumblr.

Improve the platform’s performance, stability, and quality.

Below is a deep dive into each of these principles.

Principle 1: Expand the ways new users can discover and sign up for Tumblr.

Tumblr has a “top of the funnel” issue in converting non-users into engaged logged-in users. We also have not invested in industry standard SEO practices to ensure a robust top of the funnel. The referral traffic that we do get from external sources is dispersed across different pages with inconsistent user experiences, which results in a missed opportunity to convert these users into regular Tumblr users. For example, users from search engines often land on pages within the blog network and blog view—where there isn’t much of a reason to sign up. 

We need to experiment with logged-out tumblr.com to ensure we are capturing the highest potential conversion rate for visitors into sign-ups and log-ins. We might want to explore showing the potential future user the full breadth of content that Tumblr has to offer on our logged-out pages. We want people to be able to easily understand the potential behind Tumblr without having to navigate multiple tabs and pages to figure it out. Our current logged-out explore page does very little to help users understand “what is Tumblr.” which is a missed opportunity to get people excited about joining the site.

Actions & Next Steps

Improving Tumblr’s search engine optimization (SEO) practices to be in line with industry standards.

Experiment with logged out tumblr.com to achieve the highest conversion rate for sign-ups and log-ins, explore ways for visitors to “get” Tumblr and entice them to sign up.

Principle 2: Provide high-quality content with every app launch.

We need to ensure the highest quality user experience by presenting fresh and relevant content tailored to the user’s diverse interests during each session. If the user has a bad content experience, the fault lies with the product.

The default position should always be that the user does not know how to navigate the application. Additionally, we need to ensure that when people search for content related to their interests, it is easily accessible without any confusing limitations or unexpected roadblocks in their journey.

Being a 15-year-old brand is tough because the brand carries the baggage of a person’s preconceived impressions of Tumblr. On average, a user only sees 25 posts per session, so the first 25 posts have to convey the value of Tumblr: it is a vibrant community with lots of untapped potential. We never want to leave the user believing that Tumblr is a place that is stale and not relevant. 

Actions & Next Steps

Deliver great content each time the app is opened.

Make it easier for users to understand where the vibrant communities on Tumblr are. 

Improve our algorithmic ranking capabilities across all feeds. 

Principle 3: Facilitate easier user participation in conversations.

Part of Tumblr’s charm lies in its capacity to showcase the evolution of conversations and the clever remarks found within reblog chains and replies. Engaging in these discussions should be enjoyable and effortless.

Unfortunately, the current way that conversations work on Tumblr across replies and reblogs is confusing for new users. The limitations around engaging with individual reblogs, replies only applying to the original post, and the inability to easily follow threaded conversations make it difficult for users to join the conversation.

Actions & Next Steps

Address the confusion within replies and reblogs.

Improve the conversational posting features around replies and reblogs. 

Allow engagements on individual replies and reblogs.

Make it easier for users to follow the various conversation paths within a reblog thread. 

Remove clutter in the conversation by collapsing reblog threads. 

Explore the feasibility of removing duplicate reblogs within a user’s Following feed. 

Principle 4: Retain and grow our creator base.

Creators are essential to the Tumblr community. However, we haven’t always had a consistent and coordinated effort around retaining, nurturing, and growing our creator base.  

Being a new creator on Tumblr can be intimidating, with a high likelihood of leaving or disappointment upon sharing creations without receiving engagement or feedback. We need to ensure that we have the expected creator tools and foster the rewarding feedback loops that keep creators around and enable them to thrive.

The lack of feedback stems from the outdated decision to only show content from followed blogs on the main dashboard feed (“Following”), perpetuating a cycle where popular blogs continue to gain more visibility at the expense of helping new creators. To address this, we need to prioritize supporting and nurturing the growth of new creators on the platform.

It is also imperative that creators, like everyone on Tumblr, feel safe and in control of their experience. Whether it be an ask from the community or engagement on a post, being successful on Tumblr should never feel like a punishing experience.

Actions & Next Steps

Get creators’ new content in front of people who are interested in it. 

Improve the feedback loop for creators, incentivizing them to continue posting.

Build mechanisms to protect creators from being spammed by notifications when they go viral.

Expand ways to co-create content, such as by adding the capability to embed Tumblr links in posts.

Principle 5: Create patterns that encourage users to keep returning to Tumblr.

Push notifications and emails are essential tools to increase user engagement, improve user retention, and facilitate content discovery. Our strategy of reaching out to you, the user, should be well-coordinated across product, commercial, and marketing teams.

Our messaging strategy needs to be personalized and adapt to a user’s shifting interests. Our messages should keep users in the know on the latest activity in their community, as well as keeping Tumblr top of mind as the place to go for witty takes and remixes of the latest shows and real-life events.  

Most importantly, our messages should be thoughtful and should never come across as spammy.  

Actions & Next Steps

Conduct an audit of our messaging strategy.

Address the issue of notifications getting too noisy; throttle, collapse or mute notifications where necessary.  

Identify opportunities for personalization within our email messages. 

Test what the right daily push notification limit is. 

Send emails when a user has push notifications switched off.

Principle 6: Performance, stability and quality.

The stability and performance of our mobile apps have declined. There is a large backlog of production issues, with more bugs created than resolved over the last 300 days. If this continues, roughly one new unresolved production issue will be created every two days. Apps and backend systems that work well and don't crash are the foundation of a great Tumblr experience. Improving performance, stability, and quality will help us achieve sustainable operations for Tumblr.

Improve performance and stability: deliver crash-free, responsive, and fast-loading apps on Android, iOS, and web.

Improve quality: deliver the highest quality Tumblr experience to our users. 

Move faster: provide APIs and services to unblock core product initiatives and launch new features coming out of Labs.

Conclusion

Our mission has always been to empower the world’s creators. We are wholly committed to ensuring Tumblr evolves in a way that supports our current users while improving areas that attract new creators, artists, and users. You deserve a digital home that works for you. You deserve the best tools and features to connect with your communities on a platform that prioritizes the easy discoverability of high-quality content. This is an invigorating time for Tumblr, and we couldn’t be more excited about our current strategy.

[krillest1]

Week 14: The End is Nigh

ENTER Another week, and another few days late. 3 and a half months in to weekly posting and I get the sense that this blog won't continue for much longer. I'm losing steam on all fronts of my life, which is really scary. Work is weighing on me (even though I started my job very recently), I'm unable to meet the demands of the other, and I feel bored fear a lot of the time. I've also dumped copious amounts of time into social media again this week, which makes me feel like a failure. Still, there are little peeks at gratitude in unknowing I get throughout the week, and they make things feel.. not worth it, but interesting I guess. I've also been reading Stein's collected works, which has been quite frustrating. I flick between feeling like she's nonsensical, doing something interesting, and forcing me to introspect wrt to art and hermeneutics in particular. 'Lifting Belly' cemented for me that there's at least some content going on there, though it still feels navel gazey (har) at times. I've spent less time alone, but haven't had any really satisfying social interactions in a week or two. I think that's worse than being alone, since I have to be kind etc. when I'm around others.

I'M NOT A SPECIAL LITTLE GUY I don't have a real specific plan for this week, which is 1. standard and 2. unsurprising. While browsing reddit (gross) at work earlier this week I stumbled onto a little community talking about how lonely they felt. People were describing people like me (read: lonely, spending tons of time alone, internet poisoned in various ways, unable to socialize) as a social phenomenon, and not as a rarity. While it was nice to not feel quite as alone, I got fixated on the fact that my suffering is commonplace. I ended the day (and the week) upset by that fact. I'd like to explore why that upsets me below. First, my suffering being commonplace makes me feel like it's pointless. If being alone all the time, and being unable to socialize, were unique(ish) then I would at least be getting access to unique vistas. Implicit in this argument/line of thought is that the unique is the same as the interesting. If I'm even more careless, I could fall into the trap of thinking that it is necessary for something to be unique in order for it to be interesting. That's wrong, I think. Still, a bunch of people suffering in the same ways that I suffer makes me a 'guy', not some inhuman thing. I become just another painfully a-social internet reject. I also think it's worth noting that I often find myself wanting to be smart and capable. I reviewed some essays I wrote during college etc., and I'm not surprised I didn't get into graduate school. This type of failure weighs on me, if I'm not careful. The connection here is that I value knowing (actually the interesting, which is tied to knowing I think) more than anything else in my life. Being dumb (or unknowing) is acceptable if my experience is unique, as I still get access to something novel even if it's only partial. My suffering being commonplace, on the other hand, means I enter the world of hierarchy and crushing despair, without the benefit of having a significant other or life to speak of. Second, hearing that my mode of living is common makes me feel like there's something rotten at the core of this whole social project. That sounds edgy as hell, but bear with me maybe. If there are a bunch of people who feel totally disconnected from social norms and rewards, who are unable to make sense of things, and who spend a ton of time online, then things start to feel distressingly pointless. My life generates a bunch of value for some asshole's mega-data-driven-market-influencing-corp, which is depressing. A huge swath of people are suffering, and there's no solution in sight. More than that, it's easy to fall into the trap of blaming them (me) for being weak. That might be true and correct.

NOW WE THINK Think is optimistic. With the whinging out of the way, however, I can start to meet this feeling/thought in gratitude in unknowing, instead of letting it inebriate me. To the first point above (i.e. that my suffering being common makes it pointless) I have two responses. The first is that I'm not really suffering. I keep holding on to the way things ought to be, when in reality I have the opportunity to dis-engage in a really interesting way. Because I'm not responsible for another (or myself, really), I'm able to dedicate huge amounts of time to things I find interesting and worthwhile. I'm able to become less of an ego-thing, since the biological/material pressures of life are practically non-existent. Once the ego melts away, there is no way things should be. There's only encountering things in grateful unknowing, which is a deeply interesting project. The second response would run something like: wanting to be unique is also an ego thing. You set yourself up in opposition to the other, instead of wanting to be liked/like them, but the structure is still the same. Abandon these strict delineations, melt into a soup of unknowing. It's important to me not to fall into directionless hedonism. To the second point (i.e. that my suffering being commonplace means that society is failing in some way), I think this is true. Instead of falling into despair, though, I can use it to think my way to something interesting. The old approach to politics is melting away, I think. Luigi Mangione has a mish-mash of politics that can't be structured in a coherent way. I was listening to an episode of trueanon wherein Liz described the 'El Segundo' engineers as constructing a sort of retro-future-marginally-conservative-tech-determinist-eco-realist ideology. In the face of these confusing, exciting constructs it's not surprising that people are crumpling. The chance to look at these constructs from the outside is valuable.

WHAT'S MISSING For others: I think that I've been forced to think about why we do things a lot this week. I think that people and politics and the social network all aim at some... thing, but I'm not sure what that thing is. If it's just feeling good, then I'd say we're doing alright. If it's some bio-determined thing, then I'd say our mode of life is deeply unnatural. If it's flourishing, or cultivating virtue, then I'd say we've lost the plot. I don't know why the social (contract?) exists. That's a scary thing, I think. It's a-social, and it means I have no skin in the game. It also, I think, is ripe ground for pretty extreme ideologies and acts. Since my suffering is commonplace, this is extra-scary. For others II: There's something contradictory about trying to piece things together from the outside. My position of analysis depends on non-understanding. Trying to analyze things in this way, in other words, is a self-destroying project. If I could understand then I wouldn't be analyzing, which means I wouldn't be asking the question. Maybe it's better to view it as a circle/spiraling analysis. Not sure. For me: To be frank, I'm pretty lonely. I'd like very much to fall in love or have friends or have meaning in general. Again, there' something weird about doing this analysis from the outside. I never feel good after flirting with women, or being around people, or (doing a certain type of) reading. I'm an extra step removed, in that I imagine it could feel good to have friends and a girlfriend and intelligence. This in contraposition to feeling good when I do those things, but being unable to attain them regularly. Again, there's a lurking assumption about pleasure here that I don't have the brains or the courage to confront. For me II: All of this is despairing in a way that I don't find very interesting. I am, as committed readers know, trying to cultivate gratitude in my unknowing. Clinging so tightly to being smart, or capable, or trying to make others feel a certain way about you is boring and fruitless. Things are given. I can rage against that, or I can indulge in the delicious openings of unknowing. Who, and this is true even if I don't feel it all the time, cares if I'm smart or handsome, when I get to think. It's a complicated, and inconsistent thing, but sometimes I can get it to work and it's nice. This niceness is rooted in my mode of being, in this commonplace isolation and online-acting thing.

EXIT I'm not sure, this was rambling like most of my writing is. No one will read these, and I'm pretty ok with that this week. I think longer form writing once a week is good for me, and it's an interesting chance to hash out the limits of my project etc. On the flip side, however, I'm losing the thread a little bit. I keep pushing things like writing off, in exchange for blind online consumption. This scares me. I'm tired of feeling bored and afraid all the time. I think that gratitude in unknowing is one kind of way out. There are demands and structures that I feel the weight of. My father's disapproval, whether real or not, weighs on me. Who, however, cares. I will die alone and with only my rotting brain. I'm ok with that, I'm ok in my unknowing, I'm not protesting too much I swear. Things are good, haha. Part of me wants to take the commonness of my suffering as proof that I could build community, or as proof that there's some legitimate social critique to build on it. That's a different post for a different time, but I think that there will not be a coherent movement built out of this, because it requires courage to build community. I don't even know, as touched on above, what the telos of community is. I'm grateful, still. Love ya :)

[wetwasteofagirl]

emdr for heff! part 1

By the way! I’m sorry that it took so long for me to get to this. I actually had it in my reminders app in my phone (I can’t live without the reminders app) so whenever I opened it I was like oh yeah ! I need to get in touch with you about EMDR!  As I’ve said, there’s a lot going on for me this summer in general plus the Lampard holes in the brain, but I always remember eventually!  So I figured I would slide into your DMs.  And…here we go!  Warning: long

I’m really happy to always share stuff about mental health, mental illness journey, etc. I’ve been through a lot and some of the problems I’ve had don’t ever get talked about on this website, even though Tumblr’s very pro…mental health and healing.  In my situations, I’m often, and by often I mean always, completely alone.  So, I don’t really believe in TMI, very little about my situation is TMI, and I have no problem just not sharing what I’m not comfortable with, so that’s fine. 

So EMDR…I started it in April and the first few sessions you don’t really do the actual procedure.  The first session was just a quick visit to see if we’d be a good fit.  I do it virtually, which is great for my schedule.  Then next session you do the “intake” and you go over your concerns, your family history, etc.  For me, because I’m 1014194 years old and have had this problem basically my entire life, and I’ve been in therapy for so long that I’m very aware of all of the things, the intake took I believe 2 or 3 50-minute sessions. I also have bipolar disorder! (this is why I talk so much!  It’s one of the most common and annoying symptoms lol), so I’ve had a crazy adult life full of crazy shit especially before I took medication, so there was a LOT to say.  But it was good, because I actually felt comfortable telling her stuff I’ve never told anyone else other than my best friend maybe—not even comfortable enough to tell other therapists.  So I guess it took over a month to really start going through the memories of my trauma.

I have childhood trauma—it’s complex trauma (CPTSD).  Idk how much you know about this stuff, but with CPTSD you basically got retraumatized over and over.  It’s usually just easier to say PTSD when you’re talking about it offline, but complex trauma is often even harder to deal with and has a very big impact on your life, especially with how you interact with the world socially.  I genuinely have no idea who I am without it, which is trippy and a half. I got this diagnosis 12 years ago, and the doctor I work with on that is really amazing (GENERALLY—he’s also the fucker who’s told me I talk too much, AND I have to see him later today and I’ve got beef with him from him telling me I talk too much two weeks ago so…*cracks knuckles*).  However, bipolar and CPTSD are a very difficult duo to manage. 

(Bipolar is what I mean when I say that tumblr doesn’t talk about it…I don’t think I’ve ever known more than one other Internet Person who’s had it like…in all my years of being on the internet.  It is known to be hard to diagnose, because people don’t go to therapy when they feel “good” (even though if the “good” is mania you often feel fucking awful in a unique way that I would definifely wish on my worst enemy), and if they tell a therapist they feel depressed, it’s easy for a therapist to just prescribe antidepressants and be done with it.  The number of therapists and even psychiatrists who are clueless about bipolar disorder is higher than the number of men Franky’s fantasized about sleeping with! But uh, anyway.) I’m not truly alone because SO many people in my extended family have it (it’s CONTAGIOUS!) and we all take the same medication lol, but still, it’s like the hidden disorder that no one on tumblr ever talks about.  So, I’m down to talk about anything, because these things have an extreme impact on how I behave and the energy I have to spend on myself, if that makes sense. 

But yeah, it’s a very difficult combination because you’re very reactive.  With bipolar, your brain reacts very inappropriately and dramatically to any kind of stimuli. That’s sort of the fundamental of it.  So, something could set me off, and it can trigger the fight or flight of the trauma to kick in, and once the trauma kicks in it’s very hard to tone that down, even if you’re knowledgeable and aware, you take your medications, you’re much more stable, etc.  It’s a physical reaction and it’s based on the kind of reaction you’re supposed to have to danger!  My psychiatrist is always like, “if you were a caveman you’d be number 1 caveman, you’re hypervigilant, you always have 20 backup plans in your mind, you’d survive very well.”  But of course we don’t live in that kind of world.  It’s very difficult, very paralyzing, and has created a lot of trouble for me and I spend a lot of time dissociating.  Which I enjoy.  It’s kind of like an addiction to be honest.  A lot of the time, I prefer to be in my own head than interact socially, which sigh. In offline life I pass for “normie” very well if I need to, but I just don’t have a lot of friends in person.  I could, that’s the thing, I could, but I prefer to be in my own head, and I don’t always like that.  Sometimes that gets me feeling lonely, frustrated, etc.  but yeah…That’s kind of the introduction.  Yikes.

My trauma is also very strange—and this is where I don’t totally want to share the details—because it’s just weird, it’s different than a lot of other people I know’s trauma, and what me and my mom think is that it’s something that started pre-memory, so the stuff that traumatized me is likely to have started happening when I was an actual baby. That’s harder to access of course, since…you can’t remember it!  I had to check with my EMDR therapist to make sure she can work with pre-memory and early trauma.  (By the time I was in school, so like four years old, I was pretty noticeably fucked up.)

Obviously, I’m not saying it’s “better” to have trauma from later on in life, but it’s easier to work with in that for the most part those memories are more accessible, or can become more accessible.

I don’t think EMDR changes things very quickly, but about a month ago I started feeling like I was able to make sense of some important things in my head—mostly, stuff about the very nonexistent or abusive (depending on the day) relationship between my mind and body.  My mind hates and disrespects my body, which I feel makes a lot of sense for a trauma victim, and all of a sudden I’m making some positive changes to unite the two that have NEVER been possible in over 3 decades.  I have serious issues that need help beyond that but this is giving me some hope.  It’s definitely not a quick fix but I think even the process of doing EMDR gives you some of that hope.

I’m always telling my EMDR therapist, “This seems fake!” or that it seems like a really bad movie written about a crazy person by someone who’s never had mental health issues.  Because the stuff that my head is just coming up with, and how correct/unsurprising it feels, is really remarkable.  It truly is crazy, and I don’t know how this works.  My mom is a therapist herself and she’s explained it to me but anything remotely sciencey is Not my thing so I can’t remember.  It’s just sort of shaken up so much in my brain.  My younger self has spoken to me, I’ve argued with myself, my younger self has made me cry and hurt my feelings because of how angry she is at me for not being able to “get her help”…it’s wild.  I find it really incredible, but it’s not always easy.  OKAY I’m going to get to your questions.

[icequeen1371]

My oldest just told be she’s spending the holidays with her boyfriend’s family in Florida. Awesome. It was already just going to be the 3 of us cuz my Mom & speeded are too old/memory issues to be driving an hour here and back for the past 4-5 yrs but now it’ll just be myself and my 18yr old daughter. She lives with me & gets pretty bummed around Christmas. 3 yrs ago my stepmother died from Covid & last year, my Dad passed away. Exactly 2 yrs to the day. Seriously. Both on December 23rd. Her hamster in the spring. Our cat a few years ago. Dislocated her knee last year & that was a long recoup & had to switch to online classes. No daily interaction with friends cuz of Covid & school shut downs. She’s not a hugely sociable kid. One of those geek, gamer, artistic quiet types but has a mouth with friends and is funny. And super smart. But ADHD kind of ruins her ability to get decent grades or even pass classes. It’s been one hell of a struggle for her these past 6-8 years. It all started with severe panic attacks & anxiety. So bad that she couldn’t go to school. Cue years of therapy and counselling. Still. Now she’s starting trauma therapy in the new year. On antidepressants for 7 years. Then they weren’t working/made her feel like a robot for 1-2 yrs till I took her to a new doctor who switched her meds & diagnosed her with ADHD. But she can’t take those meds cuz she has a standing heart rate of 100/bpm. So we’re waiting for her to see a specialist to see if she has POTS. (All cardio work up is fine) It’s been a haul and a half for her. She is what I call socially stunted. The instincts for relationship bullcrap or milestones like first date, fooling around and even having sex have all passed and her first forays into navigating relationships…I just hope she sees though the whole ‘being talked into it easily etc’ that ppl try to pull. Anyways…her life hasn’t been easy. At all. So her sister not being here for Christmas is just one more disappointment. BUT I’m determined to try and make it as cheery and Christmasy as possible. Now if I had anything decent to give her for Christmas, that’d be even better. I know I know, it’s not about the money. But when you’re 18 and have had such a shitty time of things in the past 8+ yrs( so basically all that you remember of your life so far) it takes a toll and who wouldn’t want a few decent Christmas gifts under the tree? Problem is, with my fixed income and fighting to try and get into disability, I barely have enough to get a crappy Christmas dinner together while trying to make sure we have groceries to last until Christmas Day. So gifts? It’ll be practically impossible to fit in. I found a t-shirt at Goodwill and some body spray from the dollar store but it’d be nice to be able to get her a few other things. I’m asking for a little help if anyone could possibly spare it, it’d be so very much appreciated. I have PayPal. Canada doesn’t have Venmo etc. Any little bit would help. Thanks in advance.

[velvetporcelain]

It’s always like- “where’s my phone?”📱 and not- “where’s my pocket diary?” 📔 -discuss.

I no longer call this my phone. 📱

It’s my pocket diary. As it should be- 📱📔

Everything I need and want to say is written and left here. I never really go back and doom scroll through my writing. It’s left here to be floating here. Like useless space trash. 🚮 🪐

And I’m totally okay with surrounding myself with my own dignity. I don’t know how I made it through my twenties without some type of diary. But then again I was an avid Facebook user and that is basically a journal in itself. Soooo 2000’s. 📱👀

If I can get my mind to think of social media as I do this void then I can probably document my life in the way I want it documented.

Please, yes, judge me. I get off on the shock value of a judgment. —> in some sadistic way when I’m judged it makes me feel seen and alive. And then I cry about it in order to learn more about myself. More ways to be judged because I want more and more and more. I want to be a Warhol on your wall type vibes.

I feel like a vampire to be honest. I’m a good woman who’s addicted to self sabotage to feel alive. I’m not broken because I was never even built. Like- tell me when you first felt like you were actually building who you are according to what you’re meant to be. Experiencing and free.

I do not give the pleasure of judgment that people seek just like me. Judgments are so incredibly powerful. I will not give people mine because I need them more than you. And you don’t even know how much you need them too. Who gets to decide anyways? Me. I do. You choose yours too.

I am able to separate from taking responsibility for their feelings. You know the things that create their judgments. I am no longer sorry that they feel the need to judge me. I am not here for your pain. I’m here for pleasure.

I can only help one through the judgment process. Because I think we just don’t know how to constructively build from a judgment. No matter what kind. Because let’s face it, a compliment IS also a judgment. Is it not?

I know there are therapists, life coaches, doctors etc out there that hold the knowledge it takes to understand human psychology. I am delusionaly convinced that I can help people in a much deeper way. 😆 I don’t know what the way is yet, but I feel my methods are going to be something never seen before. And it’s gonna work. Haha. I’m laughing.

Yes. What a beautiful pocket diary I have. It’s full of my favorite music anywhere I go. I have this amazingly vivid blog account, where I account and accept myself fully. I am able to text or call all my favorite people in this entire world, literally. So 🔥 I think the cellphone was the greatest man made invention. They are what I dreamed of the future being like. The same but just more ways to connect, move and interact. The depictions of the future are always my favorite but when I think of future, some how I’m always thinking back to the 1950s-1960s retro nostalgia.

So I think the future is just the past learning from its mistakes automatically making our future. Again, stays the same, but more connections, movement and interaction.

And that’s all life is. Picking up our past and creating the future right in front of us. Therefore meaning that the only “life path” is the one behind us. There is no yellow brick road.

What you need, you have to borrow. Make sense? There is no future to borrow from. We must be the unrealized idea. Because that is what the future is, an unrealized idea.

Today? I was the first one up and I got to spend quality ass time on my office floor with my two favorite men. My cats 🙈🥰🥰😆 Gary is my little angry demon, and I love when he lays on top of my chest like the king he is. His ears turn outward and sharp. He lets his eye coverings cover only half is eye, he is purring like a dragon and I love taking in the Hz frequencies. My other guy is my baby and I let him get a little rough with me and bite me and scratch my hoodie sleeves in hopes he would feel like the baddest African lion. I let him hunt and kill my arm. I don’t mind the pain, and my mom chopped off the tips of his from paws (declawed) him. Ugh so get me started on that—. It was amazing connecting and enduring the now.

I cleaned my entire house with my daughter’s headphones on feeling no animosity or anger towards my home. 🏡

Now- here I am. Self sabotaging with cigarettes, but- but- baby- it’s okay all the best writers smoke cigarettes in order to be able to endure the deep thought process. 💋

I’ll be fine. I’ll quit soon. 🔜 as I stop thinking.

-x