#except for the rewards part I have my own rewards number and I NEVER FORGET

[ladythornofrivia]

The Devil’s Tongue (pt. 3)

a/n: i’m alive! i have been busy for the past few months and have been struggling with my health, but i’m doing okay. i’m here. i never forget about you guys. here’s part 3 of the devil’s tongue. hope you enjoy. i kinda forgot how to use tumblr for a second, but it’s all coming back to me. 💚

warnings: smut, heavy implied smut, dirty talk, horny reader, nerdy michael stalking, profanity

Another set of roses.

This was the second week of full package right outside of your doorstep at the dorm, brick television blasted through the walls, and those who live nearby could hear it.

“Who the fuck delivered this shit?” you asked aloud, ludicrous.

You were hoping for new packages of big dildos. But who the hell delivered flowers at night while you’re deeply focused on finishing a boss battle on a Kingdom Hearts game?

Obviously somebody annoying, you assumed, but it comes with a certain consequences and package.

Since you garnered more attention from males audience, you have received more than $1000, each day before classes, and nights before going to sleep, less stressed, less fucked out.

Lets still sore, and your pussy getting pounded by a plastic dick helps to forget the idiotic moments from a guy who won’t stop pursuing your pussy.

Up until now, you still didn’t know who kept sending you flowers—gets larger and more obnoxious. Moreover, having alongside of candies in the packages. Each time it gets bigger.

Annoyance.

As soon as you looked into your messy room, you’re fucked. There’s no way, a college staff would allow childish presents and compliments. Although once you did give it away by pretending to send package to someone’s door, but magically ended up at your doorstep.

More annoyance.

Oh, it’s getting worse, although you haven’t seen the worst yet.

You hated roses, but you love the color and its fragrance, so preserving one would suffice and threw the rest into the trash—attraction of flies and other infested bugs. Though roses weren’t wasted if distribute to some lonesome women who yearn romance with their inner Shakespeare, or those who are fond of things that wither too soon for a perfect Edgar Allen Poe quote to go alongside it.

Either too romantic or too gothic would suffice—perfect in a sense they’re almost the same, but different font.

The first day you arrived in college—in England—it was stupendous. Away from folks, from cultish family and liars you once called “friends”. Crisp air and crisp sips of tea and munching scones and a full English breakfast and cup of excellent tea you’ve heard so much, from the vast side of the other world—with a profound lack of research, and a town stuck in their own ways.

When traveling, the possibilities are endless. And to unpack and trash all things annoying, family and even old friends.

Friends…

Pfft!

Friends are such a stupid thing of annoyance such as hope to cling hope. “Friends” can only lead to disappointment and betrayal, so why keep them, they’re just baggage needs to be dumped. And who needs friends when you have a large attraction of male audience and big time cash deposited into your fat bank account? And what better way to end interactions than focusing on how to finish junk food in less than 1 minute?

Money wins in the end.

Money prevailed and endured—an ongoing reward for self-pleasure.

Money buys happiness.

Always.

And food. But both were just as good as previous. Stacked on goods and snacks for a late night somber mood would do a trick.

Except it wasn’t.

Junk food has been forgotten when the flowers and a box package of your favorite candies and chocolate decided to show up on this very hour. There was no name, no phone number, no signature. Not even a compliment was showing.

“Who the fuck sent these during my gaming hour?” you asked yourself, guessing. Probably that no good piece of shit you hung out with last time. And with a small grunt, you picked it up and slammed—locking—the door, thinking about buying a sign of “no soliciting/tresspassing” from an online store.

“Ah. Better than nothing,” you added, appeased as you were closing the front door.

Thank god.

~~~

Numbing cheeks stretched to a giant yawn during a productive hour was the worst thing ever occured after the video game night. Couldn’t stop rethinking of last night’s gift from a secret admirer.

Trying to come up with conclusions on who sent numerous gifts by your door. Could it be the recent guy you dumped or was it an ex friend? An ex-friend wouldn’t do this. They’d automatically give you an intense cold-shoulder and fuck you stare on their eyes and spread false gossip about you behind your back.

Unless if it’s an ex-boyfriend you have back in America. But boys in America lack romantic aspects.

Unless if it’s a family member, or members, then they’re sick fucks in the head that needs to be douse in gasoline and set them alight on fire.

Hence why your mind was running. And it didn’t help. Hence why you came and moved into England. Starting fresh without bringing the mentions past scars would be the best course of action.

Nothing is simple, nothing is easy, but traveling far is duo-able.

After a long session on studying Italian culture and a long-dead language Latin, it has been quite some time since the cultish collection of flowers kept you occupied. You haven’t found a way to make a use of the flowers yet.

Hand tucked under your chin as you sighed, unfocused and relented at your current studies, unaware a lean hand distributed a chocolate crunchy bar.

Gazing upwards, there you saw none other than Michael Gavey.

Michael, Michael…

Michael.

The cute nerd you wanted to see.

To fuck his glasses out of his aquiline nose bridge, squeezing at the back of his head while riding your drenched cunt against his face. The boy—the nerdy college boy—to moan equations under your grasp, showered him with your squirt like how your dreams went.

Your recent dreams have been wet.

Frequently wet.

From the innocent acts until escalated to frequent fucking in college’s library to the college class, to the kitchen counter in the dorms, then the bed, once cold now warm with squirt and jizz. Fun and erotic sights to see in your dreams and yearn for an experiment and watch the outcome resolve itself.

Up until now, the roses had come up subconsciously, an urge to unveil the mystery.

“Michael…” you uttered low, trying to maintain eye contact as possible without the possibility of crushing over someone who is a weirdo who loves math equations.

“You look exhausted,” he assumed.

But he assumed wrong.

“I was up. I was up all night,” you managed to say.

“Studying, I assume.”

“Playing video games,” you said. “I can’t stand quietness around the dorm. Makes me feel isolated.”

He hummed.

“I figured you wanted a krunchy,” Michael said, one of the little corners of his lips turned upward, seeing your eyes twinkled at the chocolate.

“I—I do,” you stuttered. “I love chocolate, especially with juicy jizz—glaze! Glaze! I just love glaze! Especially with donuts with nice glaze with nice ultimately sweet goopy filling on the center inside!”

Stomach coiled in embarrassment that you might as well tuck yourself to shame somewhere no one finds you on this earth.

You sighed, as Michael quirked his brow, unreachable but slightly—ever so more—confused. Even with shut eyes, the glint brightness of his nerdy glasses were glaring at you.

Daring to look at his long glance, your shoulders tensed. “Sorry, I had something on my mind since yesterday. It got me busy,” you explained, sighing, thinking of the afterthoughts of what to do with the flowers. Still useless of decorating, still useless with charitable case of donation. “I didn’t have coffee this morning.”

Knowing that in England, people prefer nice plain organic tea and biscuits or scones.

Distracted, the heat on your cheeks arise.

“Quite a little spectical, I’ll give you that,” Michael said with a dry chuckle, as your legs crossed, one foot making little kicks while Michael came and sat down beside you, almost with disinterested, but a peak of intrigued, hopefully not with a daunting comment.

Hoping he doesn’t know what jizz is. Better yet, a whole language of slang from the west.

For days you have been searching videos at the porn website. Masturbating over the spare time became quite useful for someone who’s randomly horny as you. Day or night.

Horny and desperate from wanting to touch you, but the moment some guy touches you, you instantly kicked him to the boot—nothing more.

They say every guy’s hands are experienced. But what experienced does a guy have other than being insensitive and dull and careless?

They offer nothing to the table, offered no speciality that could qualify or overreached your expectations. Every boy are dull, dull after dull. Nothing is exceptional.

Unless…

Michael’s red sweater kept you more occupied with a rather distinct distraction. It was a nice shade of rich red. A burgundy. Reminded you of the vibrant roses from previous nights.

Nearly groaned at the sight of his top, your legs crossed and clenched tighter. Lips bruised from your teeth clutching, no gash leaking over your lush red lips, as eyes wandered and admiringly over a single spectate.

He looked good in red. For a good, weird nerd.

I wonder if I bruise him good, too.

A good nerd. A weird nerd. Obsessed about equations and numbers.

I bet I could make him cuss out during sex. Moaning in numbers and letters while bucking yourself against does seem tempting. Not a typical guy who touches women, but does the lusty temptation escalated.

But he’s so stubborn.

Red scars and red bruises.

Red tears, maybe.

You fear as if your invisible red horns were sprouting on your head. Not that you dislike red horns. You fear someone might see it. In shadows, in daylight. You like to think yourself as a perverted, moody devil who’s in for a good long fuck. Except you haven’t had a proper date on a long run.

“There’s a Halloween party coming up soon,” Michael’s voice barged into your occupied thoughts. “Have you been looking into that?”

“Um, no,” you said stiffly.

“But I have. Apparently, only those who are qualified enough to go to party. As if I’m going with those looosersss.”

But you knew he’s been longing on being a cool kid but doesn’t know how.

Shoulder shrugged. “I don’t care much about the party. Not really my style.”

“I thought you’d go.”

“What makes you say that?”

He stared over your shoulder, and the indication is clear. Both Felix Catton and his cousin—what’s his face? You didn’t know.

“I saw them speaking to you in the morning.” Michael’s lips pouted.

Cute as fuck.

“Who? Them?” you scoffed. “I don’t know those fuckers. They just came up to me and I thought they’re trying to sell drugs or something.”

“But they were inviting you,” he persisted.

“So? I don’t care much the party life. If I actually want to go, I would’ve said yes and would fuck them in some way. But then again, I did say I’m going to think about it, just to make them back off. Especially that weirdo cousin.”

Michael’s brows tucked. “Fuck?”

Fuck. Wrong phrase.

“Anyway, it’s not my business…I have other plans to go for. Just not in the mood with parties for now. Unless….you’re going?”

Michael scoffed, taking out his math textbook and notebook.

“Guess not.” You went back to concentrate on your unfinished homework.

“What happened to your boyfriend, by the way?”

You shot at him with a dirty look. “Wait, that ugly fuck? I don’t care much about the dude.”

Talking about exes is a no-no, on a girl’s standard and rule when talking to the opposite sex. Especially when the said opposite you found oddly attractive with equation.

After shoving you out of the elevator, a dealbreaker has set in and decided to break things off as if you consider the guy exist.

You don’t even recall his name.

Michael’s relaxed hand recoiled to a fist. It was subtle.

Your eyes softened. “So…I do need help with something. Something that I’m having a hard time with, and I need some assistance with sums. Does that ring any bell?”

Michael smirked, his fist hasn’t uncoiled. “Math.”

You flashed a wink at him. “So, are you going to help a damsel in distress, or are you going to sit there and be emo?”

Michael’s eyes flickered. “Emo?”

Thank god he doesn’t know the slangs. He’s cute. I can feel my red horns are growing.

“Just help a poor girl out, please? With a red cherry on top?”

My cherry was dying to get out. I want Michael to pop my cherry.

Michael hummed, watching you. “Listen carefully, (Y/N). I’m not a patient man.”

“I can take the pain. Whatever you give me,” you said, winking.

Thank god Michael is oblivious to my pervy statement.

Michael hummed again. “The sooner we do this the better.”

You nodded and get the math textbook, but you knew it wasn’t enough, so you’re planning on gathering textbooks. But Michael is already a walking math textbook. Maybe he would explain things better.

“You’re nails. They’re red,” he said.

Your heart palpitated. “You like them?”

Michael hummed.

You wanted to tackle and jump on his face with your wet cunt.

Despite the randomness crossing your mind, you took it as a yes.

Dear Diary,

I want to shove my fingers in his mouth as I bounce on his cock.

~~~

It’s been hours since Michael taught you with math problems, including xyz and triangular shapes and parentheses. As much as you despise the numbers and the math’s creator, you watched Michael’s lips formed in soft curls and once in a while his tongue peaked out.

I want him to lick my hot, wet pussy.

Make this perverted girl happy.

Lick my wet cherry.

Not long before, the library is almost empty. And thus, the conclusion of tutoring session is over. So you devised a plan.

“Instead here, why don’t you go at my dorm? You know, we could study there. The library is too echoey and I hate it when my voices gets suddenly too loud. How does that sound?

You swore you saw Michael’s eyes suddenly glinted, like a pouted cat turned mischievous, almost naughty. But in plain sight.

Without Michael saying anything, you said, “Great. I’ll see you there. Don’t forget your smart pants when you meet at my dorm.”

~~~

Michael’s plan came into a fruition. He knew that offering for a tutoring session could get closer to you. With that annoying boy-toy you used to hookup with has been nagging in. As he knocked on your door, you opened, revealing your bright smile and welcoming, realizing she kept all the flowers he gave you, hoping you enjoy the gift.

His heart skipped a beat.

The closer to you, the more chances to get a glimpse of your personal life. The more he’ll see the true you.

His heart skipped a beat.

As for the boy you casually hook up with, hopefully no one finds his body.

Taglist: @remuslupinwife1 @kittendoll05 @xcharlottemikaelsonx @paninisstuff @angeljcca @marvelescvpe @heavenly1927 @snh96 @httpsmenace @domithebomi @moonseye @faesspace @liannafae @buccini555 @watercolorskyy @taangie @qardasngan @jolixtreesunn @screaming-potato @dixie-elocin @momowhoo @saturnssrings @dani5216 @blackgaladriel @theboleyngirlx @elaratyrell @fun-loving-peach @jmliebert @ilikechocolatemilkh @20thcentwriter @sepherinaspoppies @venmondiese @snowprincesa1 @witchy-v1xen @1800-fight-me @fan-goddess @persephonerinyes @anukulee @justablondeee @viktoriaashleyyx @lcolumbia1988 @ilikemintpeassss-blog @arcielee @hippiedippiekitty @bellaisasleep @lokiofasgard12 @barnes70stark @vipervixxen @f1girlieee @namelesslosers @darylandbethfanforever9

[sugar-petals]

:: Two Girls Dominating SuperM

↳ NOTE: Since sharin’ is carin’ 😋 Happy holidays! Get the list Santa cuz here go seven kinds of naughty. PS: I use different POVs here, whatever fits best.

words. 3.3k

warnings ⚠️ bondage, pegging, flexibility kink, sex toys, some switch!kai, rough sex, harnesses, oral (m giving), possessiveness, taemin’s evil lady kink, ice cream

⎡Taeyong⎦⇁ I think it’s time to reveal an unspoken truth about the pop industry. You ready? When Rihanna did S&M, a vision of Taeyong from the future whispered the lyrics in her ear. I swear to god. That’s exactly how it happened. Just the way we’d expect, dear Taeyong is gonna float in paradise. Not one domme ready to shake him up, but two? He can retire. Boy doesn’t need anything else. Except maybe a bit of cash to buy harnesses he can model but they’ll treat him to that anyway. That being said. Knowing that two fly madams in latex are ravaging his body at every chance they can get is gonna make him know he can die happy one day. Like, he truly lived. He won’t really hold back with restructuring a lot of parts of his life to let this dynamic unfold all the way. We’ve heard of his DIY skills. This sounds funny but Taeyong will design, paint, decorate, and maintain a special area for their play. Not necessarily just one room, he varies that. We know how gifted he is with interiors and domestic ideas, so. Prepare to get blown away by his sheer efforts. And man, the amount of spare time he can stretch to get a quickie out of that time window. Incredible. Even more interesting is gonna be the range. Taeyong can handle girls that dress up super differently every time, he goes along with any roleplay or character they come up with. He’s gonna be their little prince, their hotel boy, their waiter, their flight attendant, their Jack Dawson incarnate. And their dream boy altogether, cuz that’s what Taeyong is.

His frustrations are bound to work up over weeks if he is busy at SM, so finally seeing them again will have him so excited. And nervous. And so involved with preparing things for them, the perfectionist comes out. Can you imagine Taeyong donning his apron and preparing a four course menu for an entire afternoon? You bet he’ll pull that off. Butler Taeyong will be at full throttle. He’s gonna end up getting viciously fucked in the kitchen anyways. Like to the point where all his hair is a mess in his face and everyone ran out of breath. And seriously, he’s the type to completely surrender and place all trust in the girls. Which they know, and they’ll reward him so well. With things Taeyong loves best aka getting whipped and plowed. One of you could be binding him to a fucking machine and controlling the remote, the other marking his legs and upper back. The little bun gets terribly turned on if you push him on all fours for that and hold the nape of his neck in place so he can’t go anywhere. Consider your carpet ruined with semen. While Taeyong is busy recharging for the next round lying on the floor exhausted, you take polaroids.

⎡Baekhyun⎦⇁ Okay listen, I’ll tell you the secret. You can pull a complete duality on him. Baekhyun, getting nuzzled and snuggled and squeezed from all sides because he’s so sweet? Absolutely his jam. He got two hands to hold, after all. And two mochi cheeks to kiss, my friend, two of them. But also, getting a full dose of freaky stuff inflicted on him with some good music playing? This loud little fucker is going to levitate. These two raging girls can take complete control of his body and fool around to their liking. Grabbing his butt, feeding him cake, dressing him up or stripping him down, riding his face to oblivion. Like not just circling your hips. Actual sharp thrusting and making him forget the light of day. And using some cute pink ropes to string his pretty wrists from the ceiling as a treat. Only a matter of time until he’s an arching mess. As you already suspected: A giant dose of ass destruction is only one step away. Any toy suffices. At best, when he’s trying to beat a new high score and has to concentrate on the game. Nice challenge for his focus, he likes that. He wants to feel how he’s getting stretched out from all directions until it hurts so good. Screaming „Ah!“ is his favorite word. Maybe not too straps in one hole, that’s Taeyong territory, and Baekhyun’s ass is really tight generally, but spitroasting? His favorite pastime. Stuffed up and getting a load of extra hard thrusts. He can suck and gyrate all the way, all at the same time like he never did anything else. It’s gotta be hard and fast. I’m telling you, he’ll make it sloppy anyway.

Did he ever think he could get fucked up like this by a sexy tag team? Nope, he squarely thought he was undeserving. Now that he’s getting regularly suffocated and earns the praise for being so cute, Baekhyun is actually starting to believe he can ask for and enjoy that glorious wreckage. Because if there’s one thing he wishes for, it’s drowning in his own spit. These two are gonna be so territorial and wild, his dick and tongue are gonna threaten to fall off every night. How many condoms Baekhyun’s gonna fill, those will be record numbers, it’s like the album charts. Baekhyun’s a straight-up cum bank dairy cow extraordinaire when it comes to milking him dry. Like what did you think if two mommies feed him with all sorts of delicacies, all that juice is going to stock up and get ready to blow. And the amounts and types of collars Baekhyun’s neck is gonna be in: Whole lot, even with leashes attached. Oh god, they’ll strap him stupid with some dog ears on as a reward. Baekhyun’s prostate is gonna be a constantly spongy ruined mess, poor mochi gonna end up waddling around the kitchen to chug a liter of water at 3 AM.

⎡Taemin⎦⇁ You know who’s gonna be in his element. You just know it. Taemin is ride or die when it comes to wanting someone to be the boss of him. He’s not just dabbling in all that jazz to experiment, he’s livin’ and breathing it. Taemin’s imagination is the 3D version of AO3’s finest fanfics. Hell, he even imagines the sounds over and over, it’s gotta be 4D! He’s already crafted the most intricate fantasies for some seriously action movie-like roleplay. But let's start from the beginning. What’s on Taemin’s ever-wicked mind when he goes to sleep at night? Two intimidating ladies ganging up on him. Arriving on their black motorcycle at his house, flirting the living hell out of him, raiding his fridge, grinding on his lap in their biker gear, licking his face, taking his luxurious clothes off, calling him names, making him dance for him (that one’s a staple), biting down on his torso wherever they please, and having their way with him until it’s all one big orgy. Hell, probably on that motorcycle in the garage. Taemin pretty much getting one dry orgasm after the other because it’s the time of his life. Like, they’re really spoiling him. And he’s giving himself to them. That kind of scenario going down? To Taemin, that sounds like his wettest of dreams come true. He’s like yes, yes, yes and yes. A dynamic duo of sadistic girlfriends, that’s gonna leave him so shook and utterly addicted. Like he wants to get backed into a corner, bring on all the kabedon, Taemin goes all the way the way we know him. Nobody loves that fantasy more than him.

Now… the trick is. They’re actually really fun and sweet and pet his hair incessantly. You know, casually, doing daily life things. Cooing at him and getting all the sweetest princely kisses from their angel. My god, they’ll be so gently in love with him. But in the bedroom, it’s raw business. Taemin is gonna take is so hard, he’ll be seeing stars. That he’s getting slapped around — the thighs included, he loves that — while getting a handjob has to be the most orgasmic experience ever. Taemin is gonna bust fifty-thousand nuts over having his hair pulled by one girl and being choked by the other. Boy is he gonna be hard even if the pants stay on. What if he’s not the one grinding around this time. Two scary girls riding his lap, cuffing and belittling him — wow. Taemin never wants that feast to end. Getting roughed up at any occasion makes his day. He is needy, but the girls have all the cruel shit could ever ask for, and he has the stamina to handle all of it. And the class, he never loses his mystery. A fucking marathon with some pretty brutal bondage and impact play involved, no problem, he’ll last it. You can torture the soul out of him, he’s gonna be winding and gasping for more. Except maybe that his voice is gonna be pretty hoarse if they don’t gag his mouth for the most part. Man, Taemin is so vocal. This will have the ladies all runny beyond imagination. Nobody who meets him casually is gonna suspect it, but Taemin has the wettest dick in all of Seoul (unless Lucas is doing an allnighter) and no pliable brain left because he’s got is fucked out hard daily and he gave it daily. Now you know.

⎡Jongin⎦⇁ Kai is gonna act smug about this right from the start. He’s gonna be the guy who’s proud to show you off, walking around arms over your either shoulders, him right in the middle. Like hello, I’m experienced. The entirety of SM Entertainment is gonna have rumors circulating but nobody’s gonna be surprised. Little does he know you’re down to make his naughty lyrics come true. Kai is gonna get pegged and punished holding onto his dear oversized teddy bear. Literally, these two will have him burying his entire face there. Whimpering and high-pitched moaning like it’s time for EXO adlibs. His couch is large enough for three people, so. Somebody is gonna end up horny and crying. With his album on repeat because there’s no better music to fuck to, don’t kid yourself, you likely don’t, anyway. It’s Kai we’re talking about. He has sluttiness for days. Getting your hands on all that tall dark and handsome goodness is just all that you need as a domme duo. Have you seen how this guy moves just breathing and walking and cocking his head on the occasion… I don’t wanna know how far he can go in the horizontal realm to put it carefully.

But you gotta be ready for Kai’s aggressive side that wants to make things happen. If you like a struggle for dominance, this is the address. You two are just too tempting and delicious not to move around on his bed to assume new positions. And if Jongin doesn’t feel like snapping his dangerous hips into either of you, he’s lying. Kai is ready to fucking dick you down like it’s your birthday. He has to be taught to request and wait like a good boy, on his best behavior and his knees preferably. Yep, I think that Kai is a case for some extended training because he’s so impatient, with good reason, but he still needs to be put in his place. Which Kai likes because it means you go harder on him without restraint. Was it his goal all along? I can see one of the girls taking the role of speaking to him with his head in her lap. Giving commands occasionally, checking in. And the other, getting freaky on him with her instruments. Kai’s body is so sensitive and reactive, it’s gonna be fun to see him twitch and beg. Even something as simple as clamping his nipples will already do the trick. That’s when you have Kai begging.

⎡Ten⎦⇁ Believe it or not. Out of all people, he’s gonna be the one with the most doubts and insecurities — at first. It feels a little overwhelming to Ten because he doesn’t know what’s coming. You know that kind of facial expression he does when he is uncertain. Mind you: Having a whole bunch of people around him isn’t new to him. Bitch, he’s in NCT! A threesome is peanuts against that neo energy. It’s more like, the coordination, he doesn’t know how to act. He’ll be shy and big-eyed and doesn’t know what to say. The king of comebacks and clapbacks: Speechless. Let that sink in. The girls are dealing with the kind of guy who needs a lot of clarity and talk beforehand because he doesn’t have experience with it. It takes him to really know what the program is and damn he’s right about that. Ten really getting into what he’s signing up for is big-brained of him. He asks a lot of questions with an open-mind, but also care. But then again, we know how Ten’s confidence can skyrocket, and that he’s so secretly curious about those things he’s bursting with anticipation. And he knows what to ask for to really get someone going. Touch me, tease me, feel me up, am I right or am I right? He adapts so well to almost any circumstance in his life, it’s admirable. Totally up to the challenge once it goes down, he really grows into that. And I promise that particularly the physical part is absolutely his forte, that’s where he blooms. Ten can be easily taught through the genius of his body and he’s gonna love that.

Once things get hands-on and he finds himself with two girls mounting him, and on go the cat ears, he’s like oh my god this is great. The surprise factor is the biggest in the group here. Ten is gonna almost facepalm because he’s been worrying himself where there was nothing to be anxious about. Because he’s in his groove! Smiling and laughing and having a good time. No stress, just feeling so damn good. Probably with several super-size vibrating toys employed on him because that’s how Ten rolls, always taking the challenge. What a twitchy mess he’s gonna be, I can’t. The two ladies are gonna have a blast themselves bending him around and getting the best of the best erections out of him. Ten is totally gonna snack something while they’re fooling around as three. Or they’re stuffing him with delicacies, he’s gonna be so eager. But that’s not even a glimpse of what they’re gonna do! Ten is ready for almost everything, my friends. Tag teamed while dressed up as Alice? Likelier than you think. With the wig, that’s right. Ten is gonna be their good girl for one long night and truly love it. He obeys so well, spreads his legs like its nothing. It’s all gonna be a hell of a mess on his outfit though. If there’s one person ready to have cum all over him, that’s the right address. He’s throwing peace signs and pose for their phone cameras. Oh Ten, the legend you are.

⎡Lucas⎦⇁ Wong Yukhei… the entire concept that is him literally screams for it. Two people handling all that fucking hunk. So much space to work with, that body is a drug. Xuxi is one staggering big boy, his forehead is making love to any door frame. Lot of waist to grab (…like why is it shaped like that. Offensive!) lot of wrist to tie. And those long fucking model legs, for god’s sake, you just gotta do something with those for once. Get those thigh harnesses! Plus he’s a literal baby who’s all down to date girls his senior. Yukhei is a sucker for mad girls acting possessive over him. And he’s a handful, one fucking tease, one chaotic man. Two times the payback is just so much more appropriate. He can just get fucked and fucked and fucked some more. As is two times as much stimulation. You can imagine. Yes, all over his body. Grabbing his necktie and guiding him around this that (good shit) and caressing his face, and his back, and his chest, and his stomach, it’s so sexy to touch him there.

But let’s not lie. A certain somebody has cock and balls for two people. Lucas is one hell of a stallion. Lot of girth to make hard and to edge. That needs a duo of two unhinged girls, forces of nature, someone shy won’t do. It’s their job to make him shy and docile, not the other way around. Because Lucas enjoys being teased and flattered right back, and is more than fine with being toyed with, even playfully beaten up. You know he loves to be on the receiving end of bickering. Doesn’t mean he suddenly forgets to be an active party or just leans back. He has giant hands and knows how to use them, he’s chartered some major clit territory as well, remember that. That’s gonna be three people losing their fucking minds. Imagine all those luscious, raspy groans. Lucas never holds back, no filter, he knows what the ladies like. Drenched in sweat is all you’ll gonna be. And probably a whole bunch of lube because that’s the other thing the entire concept of Lucas is screaming for. The more ye know.

⎡Mark⎦⇁ Alright my friends. Cute Mark vibes different but that’s no secret. Boy’s gonna admit he’s really intimidated and shy, but so happy he’s gonna get sandwiched once he agrees to try it. It’s all a matter of courage. The girls will be the ones approaching him because they bought him ice cream, and the conversation starts from there, but it’s up to Mark to really set the mood. Oh boy, he’s not gonna stop blushing. This nerd with a girl on each side, that sure as hell looks great on him, I assure you. And if Mark Lee is your trophy rapper poly boyfriend, you truly made it, so. This is gonna be a dynamic right here. And the most fun, imagine the mayhem. He’ll talk his mouth off like his life depends on it. Mark doing sexy talk with two girls at the same time would be so entertaining. They will own his ass. Like wow… they’re making out with him, alternate with french kisses and putting their hands all over him, and ruin his face with ice cream. Mark would be so sexy to pull close by his collar.

And you bet it’s gonna slowly escalate from there, he’s tapping into some sides of him he never knew were there. Ice cubes down his chest, tongues down his mouth, hands in his hair kind of afternoon. As a brief and hilarious interruption, a shivering, horny as hell Mark takes a phone call from Johnny. Who, as you learn, is completely unsuspecting. „Hey, I’m at IKEA, uh. The living room section, actually. Should I buy the blue pillow or the yellow one? I can’t decide. They both have the same print on them, so.“ Mark is gonna blurt out that blue is probably gonna be a good idea and ends the phone call before anybody can moan into the speaker. Johnny is left confused at the other end of the line. The girls will end up teasing Mark that he said blue because that’s what his balls are for sure. Freudian slips, always glorious. Mark is not gonna deny that and ultimately ends up with his face between two cleavages — talk about melons, are we gonna kid ourselves — and two hands down his jeans. This is gonna need a lot of towels. Mark has never gotten this fucked up in his whole life and he is grateful. Watch out people, he’ll write a whole mixtape about this.

[falling-pages]

I know about you: Tamakyo

These boys need to feel some happiness and I'll be darned if I'm not the one giving it to them. This is just Kyoya finally getting his well-deserved cuddles.

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The gang is on the run from people who wish them dead, Tamaki starts seeing things, and Kyoya learns to let himself be taken care of.

-

"Kyoya pressed a kiss to his neck to thank him. Thanking him for saving him, for helping him, for making life worth living all over again and again and again every time he smiled."

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Tamaki Suoh x Kyoya Ootori

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Mentions of riots, evacuation, similar themes.

-

-

Tamaki shuffled in the darkness, groaning when he felt the empty space next to him. The sleeping bag was still warm without a certain Shadow King, but he would have preferred clinging to his boyfriend’s body over all the extra space. Kyoya knew Tamaki couldn’t sleep without tangling him in his arms.

So if Kyoya were missing, that led to two theories: he was in danger, or he was sitting by the fire.

Tamaki sat up and stretched, hand smacking against the knife handle on his left. The first theory canceled itself out simply by the fact of his own presence. If some wild thing had taken and eaten Kyoya, he would have been taken, too. He had never heard of a predator picking and choosing a meal when there was a whole buffet of tents to feast upon. Plus, they had a guard dog in Mori, whose razor-sharp senses had been keeping them all in line so far.

They all had survived so far just by sheer luck and Mori’s instincts, and he hoped that luck wouldn’t end the moment he stepped out of the tent.

Something rustled. A shadow moved in front of the crackling fire, long and tall and bespectacled--

Theory number two, proven.

Tamaki laid back down and folded his hands together, propping his head against his interwoven fingers behind him. He watched as the figure paced in circles around the fire, torso bent at an angle, posture tight and rigid. Waiting for Kyoya to finish, Tamaki turned back onto his side, pretending to go to sleep until his love returned to his arms.

Except, he didn’t. Kyoya sat on a log and bent forward, cradling his head in his hands.

It was odd, seeing him like this. He had a habit of staying up late, yes, but once he went to bed he stayed knocked out until the noontime sun shook him awake.

A streak of worry coursed through Tamaki’s veins, and he wondered if it even were Kyoya sitting out there, or if it were an imposter, a traitor, infiltrating their camp.

He grabbed the knife and crawled out of the sleeping bag, pausing at the edge of the tent. It was half-way unzipped, and through the transparent orange cloth, Tamaki confirmed it was his love who sat dejected and alone just a few feet away--his posture was unlike him, but he was wearing Tamaki’s shirt, and the leather straps from his necklace rode along his neck.

“Kyo?” he whispered, setting the knife off to the side. His voice kept its softness, even with the dehydration. He would do anything to dunk his head beneath a creek’s tide and gulp, despite Mori’s warning insurrectionists likely poisoned all the local watering holes.

Kyoya fidgeted, not sitting still for the first time in his life. It was good enough of an invitation, so Tamaki stood, dusted his hands, and joined him on the log.

“Please come back to sleep,” Tamaki mumbled. “The sleeping bag is cold without you.”

Kyoya smirked, finally looking up at him beneath his thin wire rims. That smirk detailed it was a lie, they both knew Tamaki’s body heat was enough for both of them, especially in such a tight, confined space.

But in the firelight, that smirk twisted into a grimace, highlighting the tears welling behind Kyoya’s eyes, and Tamaki reached out and grabbed him, sinking onto the log and pulling him against his chest, rubbing circles up and down his shivering back until the racking sobs and moans reduced to sniffles.

In his shock, Tamaki could only whisper words of comfort and press kisses into his hair. Above it, though, he knew that Kyoya only needed to hold him--that if he could feel his love, that would help quell the sea of anxiety and fear tormenting his soul.

Kyoya clutched Tamaki’s shoulders, kneading his fingers in and out of the seams of his shirt. He had been his anchor since the day he had arrived in Japan, with his cheery voice and chipper eyes and light-filled soul. Together they were a tangle of heartache and wishes, hope and regret, two young men in love thrown into a world that had once coddled them, now trying to kill them.

Their only hope of survival was each other.

“You know, Kyoya, I’ve been thinking,” Tamaki mused, “and since the rioting, the wanting to eat the rich and all that...since they’ve destroyed our property, I suppose we aren’t rich anymore! We should be safe!”

And just like that, the moment broke.

Kyoya didn’t know if he were supposed to laugh or scoff, but after a moment for his brain to process the statement, he let out a mix of both. Tamaki was famous for his fanciful ideas, but this stretched even the definition of fanciful.

“We are the heirs of some of the richest corporations in all of Asia,” Kyoya replied with a sneer. The teardrops dried on his cheeks. “The insurrectionists are not going to just forget what we look like.”

“They might! Put you in contacts, give Mori-senpai a wig, put the little devils in dresses and give Renge a moustache, we’ll be fine!”

Kyoya couldn’t help but laugh at that, a real laugh, and bury his head back into his boyfriend’s chest. He inhaled that distinct Tamaki smell, expensive cologne long forgotten in their evacuation, that persisted despite the sweat and dirt of a week of hiding and travelling in the forest. It pulsated from his soft skin, and Kyoya pressed a kiss to his neck to thank him. Thanking him for saving him, for helping him, for making life worth living all over again and again and again every time he smiled.

But as their laughter faded, the stench of their situation landed back into Kyoya’s mind, souring his mood. They were on the run from a burning society, and with the next safe colony still so far away, the doubts kept him awake.

“Be serious with me, Tamaki,” Kyoya griped. “Do you really have any hope any of us will make it out alive?”

Tamaki’s smile faded as he searched his boyfriend’s face, looking for the anchor and solidity he knew was there. He knew it was there. But it was hidden beneath that stern exterior, a mask of iron inherited from his father, a trait Tamaki had worked so hard with Kyoya to shatter. But in that seriousity was realism, the sobriety to Tamaki’s joviality, and he knew he finally had to face the music.

“I don’t know,” he replied, to which Kyoya scoffed.

But then Tamaki took his hand and spread every finger, admiring the way the skin stretched around each long, bony digit, how evenly polished and clean each nail was, even in the middle of the woods, how miraculous it was that each tendon could connect to bone that could connect to muscle that could be controlled by the brain, especially a brain as terrifyingly wonderful as Kyoya’s. How every part of him was beautiful, sacred, worthy. How he wished he could fill each insecure crack and crevice with his love and reassurances.

He brought that hand to his lips and kissed every knuckle, gently, like a butterfly landing on a rock. He kept his head bowed but heard the quiet sound Kyoya let out, a sound in between surprise and contentment.

“I don’t know about all of us,” Tamaki continued, “but I know about you.”

Kyoya jutted out his lower lip, unsure of how to respond amidst the tidal wave of emotion ravaging his soul. Tamaki folded his hands around Kyoya’s kissed one, like a protective shelter.

“The others are my family, and I love them dearly, but you are my priority,” he said. “I would do anything to make sure you get to the Akaishi Mountains. If my mother were here, I would ask her to pray. If Nekozawa were here, I would ask him to appeal to every spirit he knows. If I could I would sell my own soul to ensure your safe passage.”

“Tamaki--”

Tamaki lifted his face to Kyoya’s, clenching his jaw with such a chromatic force he could have chipped a tooth. “I love you more than anything, and I will do anything in my power or out of it to save you.”

A log in the fire snapped, but neither man noticed. All was silent in the air except for the promise, heavy and saturated and sinking in the air. They were going to make it. They had to.

“Come back to bed with me, yes?” Tamaki whispered, a yawn snatching the end of his sentence. His arm floated back down around Kyoya’s shoulders, rubbing warmth into them. Coaxing, prodding, as gentle as he ever was.

With the butterfly kisses smattered across his cheeks to accompany the plea, how could Kyoya refuse?

Something tight rolled in his chest, reverberating with every beat of his heart. He was always the one to take care of everyone else, protecting them through influence and power, his family’s money or private army. And yet here they were, all of them, on the run from those who wish them dead because of him--with Tamaki cooing and cradling him, taking care of him for once. Like he deserved it, like it was his reward for all the scamming, scheming and choking business deals he had performed.

So he let Tamaki propel him upwards, pulling him up into the night sky, where dozens of stars saw fit to smile on them as they lumbered back to the tent. Once inside, Tamaki gently laid him down inside the sleeping bag, secured the tent, and crawled in next to him, blowing air onto his chilly fingers. Kyoya allowed him, detaching the lock around his heart and throwing it into the forest beyond.

Tamaki hummed as he warmed the Shadow King, pausing only when Kyoya lifted his head from his chest to press a kiss against his chapped lips. It was so gentle, and rarely did Kyoya initiate affection, that Tamaki nearly cried from the happy blooms snaking through his body.

“Thanks,” Kyoya whispered, laying his head back down on Tamaki’s chest, syncing his breathing.

“Let me take care of you, baby,” Tamaki whispered, kissing Kyoya’s forehead. “I swear I will.”

-

[jess-emurphy]

List of things the live action adaptation of Alice in Boderland missed out on that doesn't change the grand plot of things but were pretty neat and I wish they were there. This manga is one if my top five favourites so I'm incredibly passionate about it and anaylse it to shit

These are spoilers for the manga if you want to read the first arc but I will only discuss things that affect season 1 of the show and up to that point in the manga (where the face cards are revealed). Again, these really do not affect the plot considering the show got to the face cards just fine without changing anything major.

I read the manga back when I was like 15? I was in high school and used to read it during classes and was sobbing onto my maths notebook during the seven of hearts game.

---

Okay this wasn't a live action thing but in the manga, when Chishiya took down his hood and we saw his face, the comments were calling him ugly 😭😭😭 it was funny as fuck and I'll never forget it.

At the end of the seven of hearts game, Arisu's reward for winning was mutton chops. He burns the whole building down.

Arisu was still in high school in the manga (or at least, just out of it) and Karube actually has to keep telling him and Chota off for drinking at his bar.

The show really missed out on showing Tatta (the man in the cap) and his arc of being a scared young adult who's friend is murdered in front of him, nearly extracting revenge on the man (Last Boss) who did it before deciding he would rather let Last Boss slowly die in a painful way to the fire and save his own humanity. And that was pretty cowardly of them 😤

Aguni getting his scars from the tiger.

Phones work in the world. They aren't used the way the show does. Chishiya actually charges his to listen to music and someone remarks "did that guy join this game just to charge his phone? Ballsy"

Arisu telling Hatter that the seven of hearts card is Usagi's so she could be a higher number rank because he believes shes more deserving of going home.

Arisu using his ability to pretend to not be there like he does in front of his family to hide from the tagger and slow his breathing down.

Chishiya's monologue about why he chose the top floor of the apartment building, show casing how smart he is but not willing to give anyone else that tip.

The part where Chishiya has to pick up all the cards he threw and Mira comes over like "yo i'll help short ass" 😩

The first game was actually set in a festival setting where their goal was to answer questions.

The tunnel game set in the highway did not include Usagi or Arisu. It was a side chapter featuring a new guy who's motive to survive was to get back to his girlfriend who had only ever been abused by men. He didn't want to die because if he did, she would think he left her just like every other man in her life and it was actually very heart breaking. The game itself was fairly the same except the end part was a bomb, not a flood.

During when Hatter is shot, Number Two disappears and is presumed dead. In the show, he's alive. And in the manga he was Number Three.

Aguni was Number Two. There was no voting in the manga, he was just automatically Number One.

Asahi in the manga, while feling guilty, allows the witch hunt game to go on because she despisea how humans have become, killing each other mercilessly. She only ever sacrifices herself because Arisu gave her hope that there is good people.

Usagi hanging onto the side of the hotel, back fliping off, catching the ledge and kicking a man unconcious who was standing by the open window.

In the tagger game in the show, the twist was there was a second tagger. In the manga, the twist was that there was a second gun. Karube got injured because he jumped off the side of the building, caught the ledge but fucked up his stomach.

Aguni was never in that game. He never met Karube or Arisu before.

This one I can't remember completely but I believe Karube finds out about the beach via a car radio.

In the manga Arisu never got to see Karube one last time.

Shibuki's three of hearts game where she essentially gave up, was willing to die but that in fact saved her life.

Thee game where Arisu proves himself worthy to An happened without Arisu. That scene was there to actually show case An's intelligence all on her own.

In the manga, we actually get to see what type of games everyone specialises in. Arisu specialises in hearts, Usagi spades, Hatter spades, Kuina clubs and Chishiya diamonds, to name a few.

In the manga, Arisu played one other hearts game before the beach (this could be wrong but the actual chapters never stated a timeline). It was a four of hearts.

DOUDOU? WHERE IS MY BOY DOUDOU? The live action really said fuck Doudou he doesn't get to be in this sorry.

Tatta's Lamborghini and him being a mad man, driving it around 😭 as he should

Kuina showing off her boobs to the men because they were being transphobic 😤

Between the ten of hearts and the arrival of the face cards, three days passed. During these three days, the characters partied, did golf, goofed around, tried to enjoy life and figure out what happens next. A whole interaction happens here with Arisu and Usagi and it kept cutting to another character who was travelling around (and some stuff about a dead deer and friendships or something who knows I was distracted by a crying Arisu my poor boy). Arisu also has a thing where he tells Usagi to never leave him and it broke my heart.

Kuina and Chishiya? They might as well be enemies. She HATES him for what he did to Arisu and Usagi. He's actually not seen with anyone during those three days before the card faces.

Niragi ugly af in the manga.

I hadn't read the manga in years since it ended but I was convinced that Kuina was a Black Japanese woman BUT NO SHE JUST SUDDENLY CHANGES SKIN TONES AFTER TRANSITIONING. I had to do a double take when rereading the manga. I know it's supposed to be a tan but It had been years okay cut me some slack.

Hatter's gravity defying hair. This changes no plot. I just thought his hair was very funny and I would lpve to see an actual attempt in real life.

Okay thats literally all I can think of. Overall, I was happy with the live action and the literally only thing I was upset at is the fact they cut a whole character out. He may show up to season 2 but with the way the show went, I doubt they'll go back in time just to show off a random four of hearts game that this character was in with Arisu. I wish we got that cute hug with them of Arisu being tackled by this scrawny 16 year old. 😤

[littlespaceporgs]

This.

Congrats on the follows! Could you write 15. “how much did you drink?” With kit Fisto? That tall drink of alien fish man would be so good at taking care of me while I try to confess my love and refuse drinking water

A/N: Pre-warning, this is fluffy as all shit, super tooth rotting, chest skipping fluff. Now, I’ve deliberately made the first half to read, as you are a lil bit drunk, so if you stick it out, you’ll get to the part that’s actually good, Hope you like!

Want to Request? See Here.

This.

Prompt: #15 - “How much did you drink?”

Word Count: ~1.8k (wow I was just gonna do a little drabble) Pairing: Kit Fisto x reader Description: A trip out with Aayla typically ends in some form of drunken shenanigans. This time it may have ended better.

Tags: @mcu-padawan​ and everyone I’m tagging in the comments because I posted this when everyone was asleep 😅

Through the cloudy haze of drunkenness, this all seemed quite fun.

It started with a successful mission out on the Outer Rim and returning home. Upon making it back to the temple, you very quickly discovered that Aayla and yourself were finally planet-side on Coruscant together for the first time in months. And then it was a short briefing with the council, and she was waiting outside your quarters. After a somewhat tearful totally unattached reunion, you both came to the decision to go out and celebrate still being alive and both of your recent victories. It all went down-hill from there.

What began as one drink out and then back to the temple, very quickly became four drinks here and then find a new bar. That’s how you found yourself stumbling back to the temple in each-other’s arms after the fourth place. Somewhere, behind the foggy recollection of the night, you idly thought about the regrets you’d likely have tomorrow. But that, as Anakin Skywalker would say, is future you’s problem.

A curse from the Twi-Lek next to you brought you from your musings. Lazily swivelling towards her, you sent a small wave of confusion through the force. The response she had was to look up at the temple stairs, look back to her feet, gesture angrily upwards, and curse once more. Snorting to yourself, you began pulling each other up the many stairs, giggling and nearly falling over every second step. After the first 10 minutes of only making it 15 steps, you both slumped to the floor. Leaning over each other, you pressed your backs to the step.

“Ah shit, Aayla, we’re not even haf-way yet, we’re never gonna make it!” She groaned and threw her head back.

“I know,” she dragged out the ‘o’ sound, “but we can’t sit here all night either.” Sighing in unison, you fell into an easy silence.

Oh wait! You could call Kit! He was always so nice, he probably wouldn’t mind coming to pick you up off the ground. He did so when you were injured, he would do the same when you’re drunk right? Aayla hummed.

“Good idea, I’ll comm him.” You felt a brush of confusion, ah, must have said that out loud. Reassuring your shields, you put your head on her shoulder while she typed in the number. Your feelings for Kit had always been there of course, and at this point, he’s seen you in more embarrassing situations than you care to admit. Despite this, you couldn’t ignore the flutter in your chest and the churning in your stomach when you thought about him coming to get you. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen you drunk before, there was that time when you were Padawans and.. but you weren’t at the point of saying what you were thinking at the time.

“Aayla, is something wrong?” His voice rang out clear from her wrist.

“Yes – well no, not really,” She stopped for a second, and you could almost feel the confusion from the Nautolan. Gathering your voice, you tried to not slur as much as possible.

“Hi! Um – we went for a few drinks and now we can’t go up stairs.” There was silence again, before he snorted. Vaguely, you felt a ping of annoyance.

“Of course, and I suppose you want me to come and get you?” Without thinking, the two of you nodded, before Aayla noticed that he couldn’t hear nods and said yes.

The next thing you knew, he was kneeling on the step below you, holding his hand out to you. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Aayla steadily pushing herself off the ground. You grinned widely.

“Hey Kit! Where’ve you been? It’s been ages,” he only grinned back and pushed a small bottle of water into your hands.

“You only called me two minutes ago, my very drunk friend.” You chest stung very lightly, but you did not wipe the grin off your face. Wrapping one of his arms around your waist, he pulled you from the ground.

“How much did you drink?”

You shrugged with waved him off. “Not enough to deal with your sarcasm.” He snorted and shook his head, before directing a look at Aayla.

“Are you going to be ok to get yourself back to your quarters? I think this one is going to need some help,” Aayla turned her head, just enough to sneak a small smirk at you, before nodding and walking up the stairs, with perfect balance.

“Alright little one, let’s get you to bed, and please drink that,” he said, starting to move towards the sleeping quarters wing. You spared a confused glance at the bottle.

“But, but I don’t want to drink this? Oh wait! Kit, there’s something I gotta tell you!” His entire face smiled and he let out an airy laugh.

“Do you think you can wait until we get back to my quarters? Then, you can tell me all about it.” You nodded proudly. At the time, it hadn’t even registered that you were going to his quarters and not your own.

The next thing you remember was a very soft blanket that was covering the bottom half of you. If you turned to your left slightly, you could see the edge of the Coruscant starry sky. The palest moonlight streamed in and made shapes on the floor. It wasn’t until you sat up that you realised you weren’t actually in your room. This was Kit’s.

You could vaguely remember seeing him on the stairs, but you figured you must have just passed out not long after. Getting to your feet, you wondered out into the kitchen, where the light from the window was reflecting off his tentacles. He wasn’t wearing his robes now, just a plain pair of pants and a sleep shirt.

“Good to see you can actually walk.” Breathing heavily out of your nose, and mock-glared towards the Nautolan. When he spun back around, he was holding two cups of steaming tea. Idly, you noted that it smelt like the flowers you found on your home planet.

“Good to see you’re as jovial as ever.” He snorted and handed one cup to you. You both walked over to the spot near the window, and made yourselves comfortable on the floor, one knee pressed together, and one of your legs draped across his lap. Just like how you’d done so many nights before.

You watched the few speeders that were out at this hour fly past, and watched as the misty clouds seemed to become fluffy balls of light as the stars shone through. The steam from the tea warmed the tip of your nose, and you could feel your muscles relax as you sighed, smiling to yourself, staring out the window. With a passing breeze, you noticed that this was the most relaxed you’d felt since the war began.

You didn’t notice, but instead of watching the sky, Kit was watching the moon lighten you.

“So, I’m guessing you had a good night?” Moving your gaze to Kit, you noticed the loth-cat-like grin he wore. You snorted airily.

“I’m sure I did, it’s a little foggy for me though,” and it clicked, “wait is Aayla ok?”

“She’s fine, I commed her as soon as I brought you back here.” Sighing in relief, you nodded and fell into silence.

“Thanks, by the way, I would still be on the steps if it weren’t for you.” He laughed and gently nudged your knee.

“You’ve done it for me before, I was only evening it out! And don’t thank me yet, you’ve only slept for 15 minutes, you have yet to wake up with the true aftermath.” Groaning, you shoved him back, rewarding you with another laugh. When the laughter ceased, a comfortable silence fell again. You broke it once more, swallowing your fear.

“I mean it though, I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you.” Your face felt suddenly all too warm, and you noticed all the spots your skin was pressed against his. Your right knee pressing into his thigh. Your left ankle against his stomach. When he opened his mouth to speak, you waved him off. “Seriously! You- you’re just, amazing, you know? If I had to be stranded on a planet with nothing else, you’re what I’d bring.” He snorted, but covered one of your hands with his. 

“I think I know what you mean.” This and the lopsided smile made your heart stop in your chest, and something in your abdomen lurched. More quiet, with the exception of the occasional speeder engine. Turning, you moved so your head was instead on his shoulder, and you became a tangle of legs and various parts in front of the window. After a second, he pressed a kiss on the top of your head. From where your head was, you could feel his heart beating faster.

You both knew what you meant. You didn’t need to say it. It was there however, the knowledge of each other’s feelings. It probably always had been. The hands on shoulders, the sides of your legs pressed together when sitting, the favourite teas, the same place to meditate in, the knowing what expressions meant, the knowing of how you were feeling, it was all this. Just, this.

Your eyes were beginning to drop now, and all the tension in your body was gone. You yawned as he pulled you closer. With one last piece of confidence, you asked.

“Can we please talk about this tomorrow? I’d say now but I have a feeling I’ll want to remember.” He laughed much gentler than before, so as to not move you too much.

“Yes… I think we should.”

BONUS:

You were no stranger to a hangover, nor a stranger to waking up in Kit’s room. Again. Brushing your forehead with your fingertips, you sighed contentedly. The sun was much brighter than it needed to be, but the warmth was a welcome you wouldn’t soon forget.

He appeared in the doorway, and with a voice just above a whisper, he said something like a good morning. You replied and looked at him, he was leaning on the frame, his arms loosely folded, and a very gentle smile on his face. He usually smiled like that when you were together. You noticed that he seemed almost nervous.

“Can we talk? About this?” he vaguely gestured at the space between the two of you. You heart skipped as you remembered the conversation from much earlier hours, and you patted the spot on the bed beside you. His shoulders dropped in relief, and he took the first half-a-step in your direction. You smiled, and gave a look that had always been reserved for him, and replied.

“Yeah, I think we should.”

[clumsyclifford]

i can’t focus when you’re with me (i can’t sleep when i’m alone)

hello i wrote some jalex because i had XO by nightly stuck in my head and this came from that

thank you @tirednotflirting and @reveriesofawriter for the love i love you guys so much all the time

title from XO by nightly

read it here on ao3

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It’s on a pink sticky note on the fridge.

back soon. xo

The sign-off is familiar. The sticky note is also familiar, though Alex doesn’t really see why Jack leaves them anymore. There’s no point to the sticky note when Alex already knows Jack will be back and is no closer to figuring out his system for deciding when. Maybe there is no system. Maybe he truly just appears whenever he feels like it. 

Alex knows about variable-ratio reward schedules; he knows how the lottery works, promising an eventual reward and paying up just often enough to maintain the ruse. He isn’t an idiot. He can understand he’s not really winning the lottery when he spends every single night wondering if this will be the one Jack decides to grace him with his presence. One victory is nothing when it’s borne of a thousand failures. But Alex will take one night with Jack for two weeks without, and Jack knows that, too.

So maybe Alex is an idiot, but it’s worth it to be. Nights spent with Jack are some of Alex’s favorites. Mornings waking up without him are just an occupational hazard.

Jack doesn’t belong to him. That was never part of the agreement.

The spontaneity of Jack’s visits also cause a lot of problems in Alex’s life. He can’t plan his work around Jack when Jack has no schedule. And if Jack shows up while Alex is in the middle of something, forget it. As soon as the lock clicks and the door swings open — as soon as Alex hears the familiar footsteps and the toneless humming of Jack’s entrance — everything else becomes static.

It’s distracting. It’s infuriating. It’s intoxicating.

A cool breeze edging on warm sweeps through Alex’s open window tonight. He has a textbook open on the desk and his laptop beside it. The contents of the textbook are entirely failing to stick in Alex’s brain, and he doubts taking notes is helping in any way. It’s important that he learn this, especially when they’re moving on so swiftly from this section of the material; Alex can already foresee the late night he’s going to have trying to reteach this chapter to himself once he finishes reading it.

Three excruciating pages later, Alex decides the textbook can wait for a cup of tea.

It’s quiet around Alex’s place as he treks into the kitchen to put the water on. It’s quiet more often than not these days, as Alex has gotten more and more entrenched in his coursework. He’s had less time to play music. When he has free hours now, he typically uses them to sleep. It’s not an exciting life, but it’s the one he needs to lead so he doesn’t collapse from exhaustion at any given moment.

Still, the staticky hiss from the kettle as it starts to boil is comforting. Alex leans against the counter with his eyes closed, somehow simultaneously trying to refresh his memory on everything he just spent two and a half hours reading and trying not to think about that. As much as he knows he needs a break from all the studying, he’s not sure he can really afford it.

Naturally, this is when the lock clicks and the humming starts.

Alex’s eyes fly open. He stares out across the kitchen. The kettle finally reaches a loud conclusion and clicks to let Alex know it’s officially done boiling the water. And through the open doorway, an off-key rendition of ‘American Idiot’ announces Jack’s presence.

He’s humming the guitar solo. Of course.

Warring parts of Alex’s brain fight to react to this unexpected arrival. He wants to groan, because this is the worst time Jack could have fucking chosen, on tonight of all nights. He’d like to spin Jack by the shoulders and push him back out the door where he’d come in before he gets too comfortable. Sorry, not tonight, too much stuff to do that I can’t afford to let you distract me from, he’d love to say.

But the other part of him is imagining pushing Jack by the shoulders against a very much closed door, and Alex, in his weary state, isn’t disciplined enough to ignore that thought. 

Jack won’t come into the kitchen —  he says it’s too domestic for him. Alex pretends he hasn’t heard the door open and close and makes himself a cup of tea anyway, fully prepared for it to go cold. Maybe Jack will understand if Alex lays it out for him. Maybe if Jack sees the textbook he’ll latch on.

Not that Alex thinks Jack doesn’t understand how much work Alex has. Jack is an intelligent person. He knows. It’s just he doesn’t care. 

And Alex has to take some responsibility, because it’s not like he’s trying very hard to express that it matters to him if he passes his classes. When Jack shows up, Alex gives up. He could try harder to focus on his work, to send Jack away, but he doesn’t want to. He likes when Jack is here. He’d just like it not to overlap with nights when he has an entire textbook chapter to read, memorize, and internalize.

Steam is rising off Alex’s mug like wispy cirrus clouds. He brings it to his lips, burns his tongue taking a sip, and sighs.

Jack is sitting in Alex’s desk chair when Alex finally returns to his room.

He looks up with bright eyes when he sees Alex come in. “Hi, finally.” As he clocks the mug: “Ooh, whatcha drinkin’? Did you make me any?”

“Tea, and no,” Alex says. “I made it for me, because I’m trying to study.”

“Operative word being try,” Jack says.

“Yeah, and hopefully soon I will be succeeding,” Alex says. He’s not sure why he insists on pretending to refuse Jack when they both know with one hundred percent certainty that this is not what Alex wants nor a hill he plans to die on. For his own dignity, though, he has to at least look like he’s making the effort to be responsible. “You wanna learn about childrens’ development in their first year of life?”

“Such a hard no from me,” Jack says. “But be real. Do you want to learn about that?”

“No,” Alex says. “But I have to.”

Jack sighs. He holds out a hand and Alex places his mug in Jack’s grip. “What’s this? The usual?” Alex nods. Jack brings it to his lips, barely drinking any before exhaling harshly. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

“Yeah, I just made it. As you came in.”

“You want me to go?”

Alex sighs. “Obviously I don’t want you to go. I’d love to get some advance notice for when you’re gonna show up, though. Tonight’s such a bad night.”

“Tonight’s a bad night so far,” Jack corrects him, setting the mug down on Alex’s desk. It’s dangerously close to the laptop; Alex nudges it further away, and Jack just shakes his head a little, smiling.

“I mean tonight is a bad night for you to be here,” Alex clarifies.

“Then I’ll leave.”

“But I don’t want you to leave.”

“So I’ll stay.”

“Yeah, but then I’ll be distracted.”

Jack shrugs. “I’m honestly okay with that.”

“I’ll be distracted from my work,” Alex says, although he’s sure Jack had understood the first time. “By you. Like always.”

“And I’m okay with that too.” Jack tilts his head, stretching his neck to look up at Alex, deliberately baring his throat. He drives Alex insane, in whatever way is most accurate to the moment. Alex wishes he had more self-control, but thinking about turning Jack away and instead spending several more hours at a desk reading page after page of information he won’t absorb makes him want to cry. 

And it would be rude, after all this time, to mess with the rules of the game. Jack shows up expecting that Alex will surrender, and Alex being taken aback and generally inconvenienced by this is all part of the guidelines for playing. He signed his agency away the first time he kissed Jack against the door. It’s too late to ask for it back.

(It’s not really too late — if Alex wanted it, he’d have it. He just doesn’t want it.)

Alex holds up one finger and with his other hand he lifts the mug to his lips. It’s still too hot to drink but he lets the liquid scald the tip of his tongue and the roof of his mouth as he swallows. 

“You could call me,” he says.

“I don’t have your number,” Jack says.

“You could ask for it.”

“I don’t want it.”

“It’d make my life a lot easier.”

“But way less exciting.” Jack stands up, and he’s taller than Alex, and he’s so close now that Alex can count his eyelashes as they flutter shut and then quickly open again. “You can’t plan for everything, Alex.”

“Okay, I realize that, but I could definitely plan for you,” Alex returns. “Like if you just told me when you wanted to come over I could plan for that to happen. Instead of just appearing out of nowhere and—”

“What, ruining your night?” Jack casts his gaze to the open textbook. He looks back at Alex, quietly smirking. “I’m so sorry for distracting you from the absolutely fascinating timeline of child development.”

“Yeah, you should be.”

“Alex, this is a rescue mission.” Jack’s fingers land feather-light on Alex’s wrist and travel up his arm, pushing his sleeve up to his shoulder and bracing against the slope of his neck. His grip tightens as he massages the tense muscles under his fingertips. “I’m like your guardian angel. I show up when I can tell you need saving.”

“Saving from the horrors of developmental psychology?” Alex mutters, posture slipping like a landslide. Nobody on the planet can ease the tension permanently at home in Alex’s shoulders, but Jack is welcome to try. 

“Yes,” Jack says seriously. “From the horrors of developmental psychology. And because I can literally feel the tension in your shoulders. When’s the last time you relaxed?”

Last time you were here, is Alex’s real answer. “I’m not clear on the relevance of this.”

Jack frowns. “I don’t want you to be stressed.”

“Then stop showing up out of the blue,” Alex huffs.

“Really? I’m the biggest stressor in your life?" Jack sounds genuinely incredulous at this.

“No, you’re not.” Alex sighs, looking anywhere except Jack’s face. “But you’re not not a stressor. You know I’m busy. You know I like to have a schedule. A little warning goes a long way.”

Jack is quiet for a moment. His fingers dig into Alex’s skin, working muscles that ache under his firm touch. It feels improbably good for something that kind of hurts. Alex closes his eyes.

“Forget I said that,” he mumbles. “We’re not gonna get anywhere. I’ve made my peace with it. You’re just going to be absolutely unpredictable and I’m just gonna be fine with it, I guess, because I like when you’re here, even if you never want to tell me when that’s going to be. It’s fine.”

Jack’s hands still. “I just think you’re overthinking it. I’m not complicated, Alex. I’m so easy. This is easy. If it were that important to you, you would kick me out, and I’d go. But you never do.” He resumes his massage, this time on the back of Alex’s neck. “You’re always working. And I’m here on a rescue mission, like I said. To keep you from drowning in it. It’s just a question of if you’re willing to be rescued.”

Alex groans. Even he’s not sure if it’s from the frustration of knowing he won’t get through anything else tonight or an effect of Jack’s halfway massage, though he figures it’s probably both. They’ve exhausted this topic and they’re making no progress. Alex is out of patience.

“Okay,” he murmurs. “Rescue me.”

Jack’s warm hands move to Alex’s face, and he’s still smiling a little bit when their lips meet.

The sticky note is gone from the fridge. Alex is not surprised. 

Sleep is still clinging to him, weighing from every limb. There’s a stiffness in his neck that has returned from wherever Jack apparently banished it to last night. Out the window, a blanket of clean morning light covers everything it can reach. Inside, a blanket is still dragging on the floor around Alex’s shoulders.

It’s when he’s reaching for the kettle that he remembers his cup of tea.

The blanket drags behind him as Alex treks back to his room, and there he halts in confusion. The mug is gone. He’d definitely left it here last night, and now it’s not here anymore. It had been completely full and now it’s missing.

Huh.

Alex glances at the textbook, open to exactly the page he’d left it at the night prior. There’s a pink sticky note he’d failed to notice earlier.

good luck, this seems boring as hell. xo

p.s. put your tea in the fridge xoxo

A smile crawls into the corners of Alex’s mouth and stays there.

He returns to the kitchen and finds his mug of tea in the fridge, as promised. There’s aluminum foil over the top, which seems pointless but a nice gesture. A confusingly nice gesture. Why is Jack changing the rules of the game all of a sudden? It’s unusual for him to move anything around, for him to leave any indication of his presence other than one single sticky note stuck somewhere for Alex to find.

Now, not only has he moved Alex’s tea, but there’s another sticky note. Alex finds it on top of the mug.

you’re cute when you sleep. xo

Alex stares at the piece of paper until his fridge starts beeping at him that the door has been open too long. He pulls the mug from the fridge and closes it. And then he stares some more. What is happening? What is Jack doing? Is this just going to be another new rule to which Alex is oblivious?

As the microwave reheats last night’s tea — Alex wondering as it spins how Jack had known that Alex is the kind of person to reheat the tea rather than toss it and make a new cup — Alex shuffles into the bathroom to splash some water on his face and deem himself presentable for the day.

And there, on the bathroom mirror, is another pink sticky note.

It reads:

I want to make your life easier. no pressure. xo

Underneath the words, there’s a phone number.

Alex smiles.

[whereisten]

Creature Feature - Part 3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 Preview | Taeil blurb

Summary: You work at your family’s 9-5 nighttime theater for the supernatural. Your fling with vampire!Taeyong is just that: a fling.

Pairing: Vampire!Taeyong x female reader

Word Count: 4.9k words

Genre: Romance, Fantasy, Smut

Warnings: cursing, attempted suicide mention, death mention, oral sex (male receiving), fingering, penetration, cock warming

Part 3

[8:30 PM]

It was Saturday night. Your parents rewarded you with the weekend off and you caught up on some sleep and did some online shopping. You sat in your apartment in one of the many high rises in Downtown Mystic. You laid on the couch and scrolled through a webtoon on your tablet, kicking your legs like a lovesick schoolgirl. The latest chapter of the webcomic had you gushing. 

Your phone sounded off a text. You didn’t even have to check who it was.

Your parents were back for two weeks now and Yuta’s gifts did not cease. He was sneaky, you had to hand it to him. He somehow always knew when your parents weren’t around to drop things off at your office. It was a good thing he never figured out where you lived.

Day 1 (when your parents came back): The Tiffany necklace

Day 2: a $250 gift card to the Hand and Stone Massage and Facial Spa

Day 3: a Versace safety pin evening dress (he knew your measurements a little too well as it fit you like a glove)

Day 4: Godiva chocolate covered strawberries delivered to you every night before you left for work

…..It made your head spin to even go to Day 14. 

You didn’t use any of Yuta’s gift’s (except for the strawberries because those couldn’t go to waste and you planned to start up a payment plan with him when you kindly rejected him...AGAIN). 

Every time you tried to approach Yuta, though, you were always pulled in another direction by an employee at work. You were everyone’s go-to woman. Their emotional support only daughter. You couldn’t catch a break.

To hell with it, when you got back to work on Monday night, you would ignore everyone for 10 minutes and they would just have to accept it. You would find Yuta when he “stopped by to meet a friend” like he has for the past two weeks. 

Taeyong wasn’t around much either. You met up only a couple of times to French kiss like it was a contact sport but conveniently neither of you had time to be disappointed when you had to part. You both had lives to live. Separately. 

So, there you were, on Saturday night, feeling antsy with nothing to do now that you had to wait for the next chapter of True Beauty to update next week. You weren’t used to being free on a Saturday. It was a weird feeling. To no avail, you called up a couple of friends to see if they were down to go clubbing. You were always the designated driver so you thought they would jump at the chance to avoid paying for a Lyft. 

Alcohol only had a temporary effect on your body: hence, the dream designated driver. 99% human. You wished there was a name for the type of creature you were. Your parents were adamant that you were a human but you knew you stood out from the rest of that population. Your parents were never particularly fond of talking about your family history either so that did wonders for your anxiety.

Age 16

“But mom, how is that I can sense things? The other day at CVS I got change back from the cashier and I knew he wasn’t human. How does that make sense?” I asked.

“You were kissed by an angel, sweetheart. You were blessed with all sorts of quirky gifts. But you are a human: the purest of all of the creatures. Well, below angels. But we’re pretty close.” She replied, winking. I inherited humility from her, apparently.

Now that you were getting older...you were starting to have doubts about this whole “kissed by an angel” business. Why didn’t your mom have any of your abilities? It just didn’t add up. 

You could only hold on to the things you knew: you could understand any creature, you could identify any creature in disguise, your cuts from falls healed very quickly, you could manipulate your dreams, your alcohol tolerance was most impressive, and you had a powerful urge to be with a vampire. 

You missed the feel of Taeyong’s elegant fingers tracing against your thighs and moving dangerously close to your heat. His teasing was torturous but you enjoyed every second of it. You found yourself mimicking his movements to yourself and imagining he was there with you. 

You got off on fantasizing Taeyong on top of you on the couch but the euphoria didn’t last long.

You sighed. You felt really stupid for not sharing your phone number with him. 

 🎥

You thought about going to Target for the hell of it since you never had a chance to go. Your unusual schedule would usually lead you to groggily shop for groceries at 8 in the morning once in a while. You were elated to go at nighttime and kill a couple of hours browsing.

You chose to go makeup free and in an old university tee and yoga pants. It felt good not give a fuck about how you looked for a night. 

You headed over to Target and made a beeline for the Starbucks to get a frappuccino. You haven’t had one of them in months and you were close to the point of tears when you tasted the whipped cream again .

You moaned in happiness. “Yes.”

“I’ve heard that before,” a voice came from behind you. 

You jumped at hearing Taeyong’s voice. “AH!’

Taeyong chuckled when you turned around. “Stop! I could’ve dropped my frap.”

He was in a loose-fitting white tee and black jeans. They looked affordable but you knew that was not the case. He took the straw and drank some of your drink. “I would’ve bought you another one.”

You rolled your eyes. “Very charming. What are you doing here?” 

“It’s nice to see you, too, y/n,” he said, pecking your cheek and caressing it. 

You sighed. “Do you live around here?” This Target was down the street from your place. 

He shook his head. “I’ve been on the lookout for a video game for Doyoung. I’ve been to two Targets already.” Doyoung was one of Taeyong’s vampire pals. 

You frowned. “You should’ve called ahead and asked if they had it in stock.”

Taeyong’s eyes grew. “I did not realize that was an option.”

You laughed. “It’s cool. If you want, we can go to all of the Targets across town until we find Doyoung’s game.”

He smiled. “I’d like that.”

The third time was the charm as Taeyong found Doyoung’s game: Princess Peach & Pals 2. You high fived each other when you checked it out.

Taeyong asked, “I didn’t see you at Sinema yesterday. Are you okay?” 

You took his hand and squeezed it. “Got the weekend off.”

Taeyong looked happier than you did when your parents told you. “I’m glad. You really needed it.” 

“Yeah, you’re right. It’s kind of weird not having any plans or someone knocking at my door asking for help with the claw machine.”

He chuckled because he helped you fix the claw machine a couple of times. “So you’re free, then?”

“Yup. Why? What were you thinking?”

He stepped back and wrapped his arms around you from behind. “Spend the night with me.”

You restrained yourself from yelling yes a hundred times. “Okay.”

Taeyong led you to the parking lot. He approached his motorcycle, a 2018 Suzuki. You stopped. How could you forget that he rode a motorcycle.

“y/n?” Taeyong asked as he pulled out two helmets. 

“You know what, how about I just take a Lyft over to your place? Gives you time to hide your snacks and your blood bags.” You avoided his stare.

He frowned. “Why?”

“I’m...I don’t do motorcycles.” You hugged yourself. 

You were scared, Taeyong realized. He never wanted you to be afraid. He tried his best to see to it that you would feel safe without him. He never wanted to cross a line that you drew. He thought the only way he could scare you was if he bit you. 

He thought wrong. 

“I’ll go slow, I promise,” he said as he hugged you again. 

You mumbled against his chest. “I don’t know…”

“You can trust me. I don’t live that far from here. It’ll be ten minutes, tops.”

You knew your fear was over-the-top but you couldn’t help it. So many maniacs were on the road. You could barely keep it together in your Corolla. But you were curious. You wanted to push the fear aside and be a little reckless. Taeyong wouldn’t let anything happen to you. Regardless of what your parents told you, vampires were strong and they protected their own. Taeyong regarded you as an equal. He’s said it multiple times. You were his friend and he would take care of you.

So what the hell?

“Okay,” you said, steadying your voice. 

He helped you secure your helmet. He did the same for himself. He got onto the bike. He nodded for you to get on. You wrapped your arms tightly around his abdomen. It was rock solid and you could feel his heartbeat accelerate. 

“Hey. Don’t let me distract you,” you teased.

He chuckled. “Even when you’re not around, love.”

You smacked his arm. “You’re so annoying.”

He laughed. “You ready?”

“Let’s go,” you said as you squeezed him tighter.

Taeyong enjoyed this more than you will ever know. He started up the bike and you moved at a decent speed out of the parking lot. Your heart rate was deceiving you and you knew Taeyong could feel it, too. 

You just let yourself feel what you felt and hoped that excitement would take over. And it did. 

When you got onto the main road, you cheered and laughed. You let yourself be free. For all of your life, you liked to think you had some freedom. At the root of it all, you were stuck in a lot of ways: family obligations, your career, and who you could marry, to name a few. But in this moment with Taeyong, you’ve never felt freer. 

🎥

Taeyong purchased one of the properties at a luxurious oceanfront hotel, Hotel La Mar. He lived on the top floor. 

“Make yourself at home,” he said. “I’m going to wash up.”

You marveled at the spacious apartment. The furniture was leather and the floor was a plush carpet. You could envision yourself curling on the floor. That’s how cozy the space felt.

The living room had a plasma screen TV with shelves and shelves of movies: everything you could think of.

Huh, a movie theater employee human hybrid (?) with a cinephile vampire lord. An interesting concept, you thought. You kept exploring and noticed that there weren’t many photographs around the space. There was one of Taeyong posing in front of the Eiffel Tower at night. Bold of him to break the rules overseas, you giggled to yourself. Another frame contained a visibly older photo. It was a picture of Taeyong and who you assumed were his family: his parents and his sister. You wondered when this was taken.

“1985,” Taeyong answered into your ear, causing the hairs on the back of your neck to rise.

You yelped.

He took the photo frame into his hands so you both could admire it. “This is my family. My mom, my dad, and my older sister Chaewon.”

1985? Taeyong looked exactly the same as he did in that picture. That must have been around the time he became a vampire, you thought.

“I turned a year after that,” he said. You noted the hesitance in his voice.

“Oh,” you said.

“When I was a human, I fell in love with a vampire.”

“Oh, so we’re going there...”

Taeyong took you out to the balcony so you could watch the night sky over the ocean.

“We don’t have to talk about it-“ He started.

“Are you kidding me?” You’ve been dying for more intel on this man.

He smiled amusingly at you. You were so curious and open with him. You were precious to him.

“I met Cleo when I was 22...She was older than me. I didn’t realize at the time just how much older. I worked at my father’s dojo over the summer after I graduated from college. I was going to get my master’s in architecture. I had everything going for me. I dated a few girls in college but I didn’t find someone I wanted to settle down with. I was...a bit of a hopeless romantic.”

Still are, you thought to yourself.

“I was closing the dojo one night when a couple of thugs broke in to rob the place. They were in the process of beating me to a pulp when Cleo and her friends came in and...took care of them.”

You understood that to mean they were sucked dry.

“She told me she’d been watching me for a while and didn’t know how to introduce herself. So that night was as good a time as any. I was shocked to see vampires for the first time. Once upon a time, the world you see every day at Sinema was a fairy tale for me.”

You figured as much. Not all vampires were born as vampires.

“But I couldn’t get Cleo out of my mind so soon I fell into that world. Never looking back.”

And that’s when you heard the regret in his voice.

“Cleo paraded me all over the supernatural parts of the country. She would take me to clubs. Introduce me to her friends. I moved in with her not even a month after we met. The first time she drank my blood...I didn’t expect the emotions to be so strong.”

The alarm bells rang off in your head.

“I was all hers after that, y/n. She bewitched me. I was at her beck and call. Nothing else mattered but how I could please her.”

You could see the pain in his eyes and how he avoided looking at you.

“That’s why...” You started.

Taeyong continued, “I can’t do that to you. It’s not worth the risk. My escorts? Those human women visited witches to give them the resistance from falling under a vampire’s spell. An attraction can grow, sure, but the intense devotion a human feels to a vampire is taboo now. Vampires don’t want to deal with what they would call collateral damage after having one night of unadulterated pleasure.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Your heart hurt for the man before you. It wasn’t his fault that he was under Cleo’s spell. She manipulated him.

“But every now and then, a vampire just won’t care,” he said.

Which means this kind of abuse still went on to this day, you realized.

“After the first bite, I begged Cleo for more. She offered to do me one better and asked for me to join her on her travels around the world: as her vampire prince. Her words. Not mine.”

Taeyong sighed and rolled his eyes. “Looking back on it, it was bullshit. But the human me was...singing from the rooftops. I idolized that woman. She was the key to my happiness. I would follow her to the ends of the earth. And that I did.”

You thought about his family and his life.

“I was a vampire. I couldn’t live my human life anymore. I was devoted to Cleo and that was all that mattered. I gave up on my master’s. I told my parents I was getting married, traveling the world, and didn’t plan on coming back. I was mad at them, y/n. They told me I was a fool for throwing away my future for a woman who sucked me in and would spit me back out. I hated that they doubted me but even more that they doubted Cleo.”

“So you left...”

“I did and it didn’t take long for me to realize that my parents were right. I loved her unconditionally, knowing full well that she was preying on other humans like me, building an empire...well, a harem would be a more accurate term. Soon, I realized I was no longer her favorite and it was eating me up from the inside. I...couldn’t take it so I-“

You felt a sense of dread at what he was about to say next.

”I never even considered the possibility that I could end my addiction to her. I just thought of the quickest way to put me out of my misery. I planned to stab myself in the chest.”

You put your hand to your mouth. “Taeyong...I-“

He squeezed your hand. “It’s okay.”

“It’s a lot...Remembering your darkest days...I don’t want you to feel pressured to tell me everything,” you added as you traced your fingers against his knuckles.

He shook his head. “I want to share this with you.” His brown eyes shifted into bright a shade of blue, suddenly.

“Taeyong, your eyes...”

“They’re blue, aren’t they?”

“Yes but why?”

“I’ll explain. Someone saved me the day I wanted to end it all. Jaejoong. Jaejoong...is like a father to me. He talked me down and helped extract Cleo’s latches off of me. And with that, my memories of her were gone. The witch who helped us with this process was able to conserve pieces of my memories and I only had the nerve to access them recently...After I met you.”

“Taeyong...”

“I wanted to know why I couldn’t let myself bite you. Something inside me was holding me back. I wanted to drink from you so badly but you weren’t an escort. I knew the rules. About the damage that could be caused. But I wanted to understand the nagging feeling at the back of my mind. And accessing those memories again...my eyes turn blue as I reflect on the darkest time in my life.”

“Oh, Taeyong...” You sat curled up against him and held him tightly. “I’m so sorry.”

Taeyong tucked some of your hair back so he can cup your face. “Thank you for listening to me. I thought you would be running for the hills by now.”

“Everyone has their dark past. Granted, mine consists of a crappy ex-boyfriend but my point is that I really appreciate you telling me about yourself. I didn’t expect that.”

Taeyong sighed. “You know, the arrangement we have...”

“Yeah?”

“I like it. But...” He stared out at the sea.

“Go on,” you said as you kissed his neck.

“I don’t want to be just friends with you,” he almost whispered. You were close enough to his lips to hear every syllable clearly.

“I know...”

“You do?” He looked down at you as you played around with the fabric of his tee.

“You told me everything...Basically. I don’t think you did it without an agenda,” you said as you removed yourself off of him and looked into his eyes.

He rubbed his hands against your legs, wishing you’d worn shorts so he can feel your soft skin heat up at his touch. “What do you think?”

You were about to respond when his hands ran up to your butt and he squeezed it. “I...I think we’re ready to move up another level.”

He smiled. “Really?”

Before he went for your butt again, you got yourself up and straddled him. “Really.”

You kissed him deeply, begging his tongue to meet yours. Taeyong quickly reciprocated.

He cupped your face again. “You are so beautiful.”

“I know you mean that,” you said, realizing you looked like a struggling college student in your getup. He really liked you. He wouldn’t avoid your stare. He was happy.

The blue in his eyes vanished and it was back to his warm dreamy brown.

“You okay?” You asked.

“Never better,” he said as you pulled you closer to him. He always embraced you like it was his last time.

He was indeed a hopeless romantic.

“So...” You couldn’t get Cleo out of your mind, though. You wondered what she looked like and how she seduced Taeyong. At one point, Taeyong was in love with her without the enchantment of a vampire. You couldn’t help but wonder if he ever compared you to her. And just how much he remembered after the memory wipe. “Where is Cleo now?”

He cleared his throat. “She’s dead.”

There was a sense of dread again at the pit of your stomach. “How did she die?” You sat beside him again.

“Jaejoong...finished her,” he continued.

“...How?”

“When Cleo found out I had defected to another clan, she was furious,” he said.

“She came after you?” You asked, shocked she would care so much.

“It’s not that she cared,” he answered your thoughts again without realizing it. “It was a matter of pride for her. I was her property. And Jaejoong took it away from her.” That infuriated you.

Taeyong continued, “Jaejoong hid me away from her for a year. So I wouldn’t be tempted to go back to her. Even if her influence escaped me, she could easily lure me in again. I was weak, starved for love. For anything I could get from her after I left everything behind.”

“Taeyong...”

“In 1987, Jaejoong and Cleo faced off. She perished from a wooden bullet shot to the heart.”

You still had so much you wanted to ask. “How do you know she’s gone?” You blurted. You didn’t have a lot of remorse for the death of this woman, you understood.

He met your gaze. “Jaejoong brought me to her body.”

You waited for him to continue.

He said, “And we burned it, making sure no trace of her remained.”

He worried that you would see him differently upon hearing this.

But you understood. She was a monster that preyed upon innocent people and played with them like dispensable toys. You hated that someone could be so vile and tinker with the heart of the man you...

Liked.

“Wow,” you said, meekly.

“I know,” he said, “Jaejoong took in the lost boys of her clan and helped them become independent. Like he did with me. Now we pledge our loyalty to him.”

You wondered if Jaejoong was really as heroic of a man as Taeyong made him out to be.

🎥

You sat with Taeyong in the kitchen. You took some cake mix out from your shopping tote and asked him if you could bake it. “Mind if I use your kitchen?”

“Depends. What flavor is the cake?”

“Red velvet,” you answered.

“Only if I can lick the spoon,” he said as he helped pull out all of the supplies and ingredients.

As you mixed the cake mix with the other ingredients, Taeyong watched you.

You were something else. After telling you some of his darkest memories, you didn’t run off. You didn’t doubt him. You stayed. And for that, he would be eternally thankful.

“You can lick the spoon now,” you sang.

Taeyong creeped up from behind you, dipped his finger into the bowl, scooped some of the batter and ran it across your neck. You stood still.

He moved his finger dangerously slow across your neck and his tongue followed even more slowly behind. You moaned at his delicate touch.

“It tastes pretty good,” he whispered. You could feel his cock grow against your leg.

Taeyong held you from behind as you finished putting the mix into a pan. You laughed at how he clung to you like a koala.

The cake would take about half an hour to bake, which meant...

“Lead the way, Taeyong,” you said.

He scooped you up and he bolted to his bedroom. You laughed.

He tossed you on the plush California king bed and nearly pounced on top of you. You yelled and giggled like you were playing tag.

He kissed you hard as he laid against the bed frame. You pulled his shirt off. He did the same. You surprised him then.

“Where’s your bra?” He asked.

“I took it off when I went to the bathroom. I thought you noticed and that’s why we’re here now.”

“I mean, your nipples looked...”

You pulled him closer. “How do they look?” You lowered your voice.

“Pretty,” he said as he kissed you again. You pulled down his pants and cock greeted you.

Taeyong stood up on the bed as you kneeled down to greet his gorgeous length.

You grasped it hard and Taeyong grunted. “Does it feel good, baby?” You asked.

“Yes, love,” he said as he ran his fingers against your hair.

You took his length into your mouth and moved slowly back and forth, enjoying the taste of precum in your mouth and the sound of Taeyong’s moans. His length tickled the back of your throat. The discomfort was mild but you liked giving him blow jobs. So with practice, the pain became pleasure. You were getting wet at the thought of pleasuring him now.

“Feel me,” you said as you moved your eyes down to your panties. Taeyong put his hands down there and gently placed two fingers inside of you. He moaned again as you sucked faster.

You wanted Taeyong to know that you weren’t there to play with his heart. That was never what you wanted. You wanted to get to know him. And you didn’t want to keep lying to yourself. You were all in. And somehow, you would find a way to make it work.

Taeyong tugged tightly at your hair as he was on the verge of his climax. The thought of his climax aroused you ever further and felt the vibrations deep down in your belly. When he came, you found yourself soaked from him and yourself. You lathered up his cum. You fingered yourself and gave him a taste of your essence. You took all of his cum in and dragged your tongue up to his abdomen and met his lips. You kissed him.

He hugged you and wiped the sweat off of your forehead. “I love you.”

You exhaled like you held your breath for a long time. “I love you, too.”

He laid you down so he could pleasure you. He kissed you again and ran his hands up your thighs and forced them open. You gasped.

He greedily lathered up your cum. “You are exquisite.” He began running his index finger in and out of your clit. You started rocking back and forth.

He tsked. “Stay still, angel. Or I’m going to stop.”

You whined. “Meanie.”

He laughed his deep laugh and just the sound of that made you moan.

His unoccupied hand gripped your thigh tightly, squeezed your ass, and caressed you face. He liked watching you come undone under him. It kept awake sometimes when he was home alone.

He continued to finger you and you mewled when he inserted two fingers. You felt yourself building up again. You couldn’t help but rock back and forth. You wanted to climax.

“Taeyong, please,” you begged.

He smiled as he removed his fingers.

You whined even more. “Evil overlord, please.”

He pecked your lips. “Your wish is my command.”

He quickly inserted his cock and it hit you hard that you cried out. The pain quickly became pleasure as you both moved back and forth.

“Fuck,” he exclaimed. “I fucking love you.”

“I...love...you...” You managed to get out until you both released.

You both went for two more rounds before passing out on the bed. He held you as he covered you under the sheets. The timer went off for the cake.

You were about to get up but Taeyong pulled you back.

“It’ll cool. It’s okay. Just stay with me,” he said as he snuggled up against you.

“You’re so clingy,” you said as you laid your back against his front. He spooned you. His cock was in your ass. You’d wanted to do this with him for a while.

Taeyong was beaming. You were beside him now and neither of you was in a rush to leave. You could take your time and enjoy each other.

He moaned against your neck. “Are you hungry, though?”

You laughed. “I’m good.”

So you laid beside each other as the sun rose and slept for hours.

🎥

You stayed asleep but Taeyong’s phone rang. He slowly got up from bed and covered you with the sheets. You frowned in your sleep like you unconsciously knew he left your side. He laughed quietly as he took his phone off the nightstand.

He walked out of the room so as not to disturb you.

“Hey Jaejoong, how was South Africa?” He asked.

His leader chuckled over the phone. “Beautiful. The great white sharks were incredible. You have to come with me next time.”

“Are you back in the country?” Taeyong asked excitedly. Jaejoong was gone for a while on his travels.

“Yes. I landed today in Mystic.”

Taeyong replied, “That’s great. You have to come over for dinner. I’ll make your favorite chicken parm and you can drop off all of the souvenirs you bought for me.”

Jaejoong laughed. “I hope a keychain won’t disappoint you. How about I come over tonight? There’s something I wanted to talk about with you.” You noticed the shift in his tone.

“Is everything okay?” Taeyong asked.

“Yeah...They’ll be even better soon enough,” Jaejoong said.

To Be Continued in Part 4

[spideymarvelws]

What The Eyes Can’t See

Chapter Two : Opposite Reactions

Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader (Royal!au)

Main Masterlist / Series Masterlist

Warnings : mentions of death, cursing

Series Summary :

People are afraid of change, afraid of the impossible, afraid of things that are not known. But how can they not be curious? How can they stay in the kingdom grounds, knowing that they live everyday on a repeat until their grave? Aren’t they curious to what lies beyond the forests? Whats hidden behind the trees? The wonders that lie outside the harsh walls that are set around them?

“The king be dammed,” you muttered, the rules that where set upon you the furthest thing from your mind. Riding your horse out of the borders, you did what you have always done best, you ran, the only thing keeping you going was being back with you family, your home. You could hear the guards quickly approaching, the shout of your betrothed growing closer. You can’t give up, not yet, not when you have your own love chasing you, looking for you, waiting for you.

But yet, you couldn’t decide which direction they were coming from.…

Word Count : 3.1k

...

Bucky sat near the fireplace in his chambers. The button up, off-white shirt he wore was torn open, revealing his bare chest to the heat. It had constricted his breath, becoming too tight around his chest when he took heavy breaths to control his growing anger when her barged into the room a few minutes prior. The tunic he wore was also torn but completely off his body lying on the floor next to his bed along with a shattered lantern that we threw against the wall. 

The room itself was covered in darkness, the only thing chasing it away was the blazing flames, threatening to escape the fireplace. The food his maid had brought in before he returned was cold and untouched, except for the chalice of wine that he now held in his hand.

As he brought the chalice up to his lips, his gaze never left the flames in front of him, fiery and alive. The more he stared, the louder the screams of the men and woman echoed in his ears adding to his pounding headache. 

He gulped down the sweet liquid, hoping that that the burn down his throat would help him forget, but it didn’t. The image of the each of the mens faces as they begged for mercy was engraved into his mind. He hated the guilt that he was feeling along with the number of thoughts questioning if what he did was right.

Deep down, Bucky didn’t want to be king. Unlike the people he was surrounded with everyday, the power hungry gene that had been passed through his family for centuries never resonated with him. But it was his duty, as leader, as king, to keep his people in check. Keep them fearful and afraid with his every move.

“Power is fear,” his father would always say, “Without fear, the people will start to think for themselves, and difference in opinion is what leads to war,”

He was eight when he first heard him say it, right after he saw three men hung for treason against the crown for being deemed as outsiders. He didn’t look away, he couldn’t, he needed to be the son his father wanted, the leader and king he wanted. 

But what about the leader the people needed?

Bucky was no fool when it came to the opinions of the kingdom’s folk. He hated spending time in the Spring Vale, the richest and most brainwashed part of the kingdom guarded by the walls. He much rather spend his time in the castle grounds by himself or with a maiden he found for the night. 

His father never really cared about his whereabouts during the day outside of scheduled meetings and classes, so during that free time, he usually grabbed his horse and rode outside of the red wall to visit the rest of the kingdom.

He was never really shown the outside villages surrounding the walls, making it easy for him to blend into the crowd with the right clothes and behaviour. Despite the lack of borders, the outside villages were just as trapped as the ones inside. Guards constantly patrolled the streets with weekly checkups in houses to make sure nothing was out of the ordinary.

Compared to the lush life he grew up in, the surrounding village was horse shit. Most houses weren’t even standing, cracked ruins and walls stood in there place, enough stability to throw a sheet over and have decent shelter. The few that were standing had cracks along the walls paired with non-existent doors and windows.

The market place was the busiest place in the villages. Food came in every week, half of what the kingdom would use in one day. Seeing people fight over something that the crown they served should and could provide in quantity made Bucky think for himself for once in his life.

Along with all the comments that the townsfolk would make, comments that now himself he would think off, comments that he couldn’t blame them for having.

It made him question everything he was taught growing up, everything that his father did as ruler and everything he did and king. 

But he could never question it, unless he wanted his head on a spike. An abrupt knock filtered through his ears followed by the creak of his door. He didn’t make any acknowledgement, waiting for the person to state the reason for its presence. He also needed the time to zone back into the space of the ruthless king he was known to be, but he needed a distraction if he wanted to last for the next day.

When he didn’t hear anything, he let out an annoyed sigh, “Are you going to say anything or just stand there like a frightened goat,”

He stood up from his chair to face the intruder. She was one of the maids, on the younger side compared to rest and relatively new considering how frigid she was. 

Perfect timing, he thought.

She was looking around his mistreated room, fear running up her spine. When he started approaching her, she stopped gawking at the state of his room and hesitantly looked him up and down, a dear caught in headlights.

“Speak up will ya? I haven’t got all day,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I-i’m so so-orry, my king,” she stuttered, bowing her head down, “But Lord Barnes re-equests you presence in his ch-chambers,”

Bucky stood directly in front of the girl now, gripping her chin between his finger to pull her head up and meet his gaze, “That wasn’t so hard now was it?” He questioned mockingly, lowering his voice to a course whisper, “Now be a good girl and clean my chambers for me for when I return,” he brought his lips close to her ear, “And maybe I’ll reward you if you do a good job, hmm?”

Leaving her stunned and frozen in place, he smirked, letting out a huff before opening his door, stepping out and slamming it behind him. Walking down the dark corridors, he tried to keep the smirk on his face for the guards as he was passing by but he could feel his exterior crumbling. 

And of course his father chooses this time to call him to talk.

His father lived in the east wing of the castle, bare of anyone except a few guards and two maids that only passed by in the morning to deliver food and do some light cleaning. Usually, he would stay in the library when his tasks where finished for the day, but for the past few months, his health had been deteriorating, leaving him bound to his bed. 

Greeting the guard that stood outside his father’s chambers, he opened the door, stepping inside the room. It was welly lit, candles in every corner with the fireplace as angry as his. However his father was not lying in bed, he was standing by the open window, gazing out into the night sky.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” Bucky questioned, straightening his posture. “What’s the point when I’m dying either way,” he responded dryly, taking a sip of wine.

Bucky didn’t want to stay long, his father never failed to irritate him and he knew this visit wouldn’t be an exception.

“Why did you call me here?” Bucky questioned, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Don’t use that tone with me boy,” his father replied, turning his head slightly, “You may be king, but I won’t hesitate to put you in your place,”

Bucky felt his anger boil, “Yes father,” he grumbled, self consciously rubbing his forearm, “Why did you call me here?” He asked, trying to mask the edge in his voice with much calmer tone.

His father took a sip of wine from the goblet in his hand. He stayed facing the window as he spoke, “Do you know why we rule the way we do?” He asked. “Yes, father.” Bucky replied, itching to get out of the dank room.

“Then why did I see you hesitate to behead the men who decided to betray us,” Bucky’s breath caught in his throat. Of course his father noticed, his silent hopes that he had blinked in that very moment were broken. But he knew better than to lie to the son of the Sovereign.

“It was my first time father,” 

“But you’ve seen it countless times before,” he spat, “hesitation is not trait found in a king meant to rule,”

His father turned around and walked up to him. He grabbed the back of his neck, locking his grey eyes on his, “are you questioning the laws, James?”

“Of course not, father,” Bucky said, maintaining eye contact. 

After a few seconds, his father finally let go, “Good,” 

He walked back to the window, taking another sip of his wine.

“Is that all father?” Bucky grumbled.

“One more thing,” His father said, “The Grand Ball is tomorrow, I expect you to choose a queen by the end of the night. This kingdom needs an heir.”

His tone left no room for negotiation, “Yes father,”

With that, Bucky walked out of his room, slamming the door behind him.

…

“What do you think she’s talking about?” You questioned, laying your head in Steve’s lap.

“Maybe you would know if you tried to pay attention,” Steve said, poking your side as you rolled your eyes.

“She says the same thing every single assembly. Plus after that long walk I could use a nap right about now,” you grumbled, nuzzling further into his thigh.

Steve let out a chuckle before focusing back on the meeting held in front of him. Every month, a gathering was held to update the people on what was going on and what goals had to be reached by the end of the month.

“Things will be different this month Y/n,” Steve said determinedly, “I can feel it,”

You looked up at the blonde, “Not to be rude, but you said that last time,” you paused, “And I’m pretty sure you said that the time before that as well,”

Steve sighed, looking back down at you. He took your hands in his, kissing your knuckles, “I know, I know, but you want to know why I know this time is going to be different?”

“Enlighten me,” you hummed.

“Because, Valkyrie has a special assignment for you,” you shot up into a seated position, “Or so I’ve heard,”

“What?” You gasped, “This isn’t going to be another stupid horse back ride to the other camp is it?”

“If it was then she would’ve announced who’s going by now don’t you think?” Steve smiled, “Clint told me about it when I went to get our rations for the day, said that she stayed back after the council meeting with the head guard and he heard your name,”

You sighed, laying back down on Steves lap, “Then it’s probably nothing then, you know Clint likes to gossip. It’s probably just another exercise to improve my skills for the big fight,”

“Oh the optimist,” Steve hummed, playing with the sleeves of your shirt.

“You love it,” you smiled, looking up at the blue sky above you.

“yeah yeah,” he mumbled, focussing back on meeting, “Maybe it is,” 

Valkyrie voice vibrated thought your ears, loud and clear for all the people surrounding her to hear. You always wondered how one person could hold so much power in just their voice, gaining enough respect to get everyone around them to listen. It was one of the reasons why you looked up to her, not just as a leader but as a mentor.

Her lover, Carol, stood behind her with the same stance, tall and proud. It was a strange contrast to what you had experienced in King’s Empire. The levels of respect and what decided who deserved it were a stark difference to the open environment you grew up in with the north camp. Most things like woman leaders and relationships with the same sex were forbidden, something that never made sense to you given the home you grew up in.

Which is why you were so conflicted with the feelings of change.

You were comfortable with what happened in camp, the routine you had every week. Waking up in Steve’s arms, completing whatever tasks where given to you that day, talk with whoever was around you at the time and have dinner with the camp to end the day.

It was what you did since you came to camp so many years ago. You was fine to the little changes that had been made here and there, but the talk of something big happening made you fearful for the months to come.

But you stayed open minded, not just for the people who needed it, but for Steve as well.

“Hey, dream bug,” Steve poked your cheek, “Meetings over,”

You blinked rapidly, “Shit, really?”

“Yes really,” Steve chuckled, “Do I need to do the recap?”

You sat up, turning to face your boyfriend while stretching your legs, “Do I need to answer?” You crossed them quickly.

“Well,” he started, clasping his hands together. “Thor gave the updates on resources concerning food, they seem stable for the rest of the month. Loki mentioned that the weapons are coming along, along with intel from the other camps. Carol announced that our army is growing bigger and bigger.” He tapped his finger on his chin, amused with the long yawn you let out, “Oh and Valkyrie wants to see you in the map room directly after the meeting,”

Your eyes widened as you shot up from your seat, “Why didn’t you tell me that!” You shouted, turning to run towards her hut.

“Maybe listen next time,” Steve shouted back, laughing as he watched you speed towards the hut, knowing fully well you still had time before you had to arrive.

As you reached the hut, you yanked the clothe covering the entrance open, smelling sheepishly at your leader, “Sorry i-“

“Y/n! Thank you for coming early,” she smiled, motioning for you to enter, “We still have to wait for people to come,”

You huffed under your breath, “Fucker,”

“Is Steve not with you?” Carol asked, removing her armour in the corner of the room.

“He should be on his way,” you sighed, sliding your hand across the large table in the middle of the room, walking to stand next to Peter, one of the newer recruits.

“Y/n,” you decided to introduced yourself, not sure if you had spoken to the boy before. You had seen him around the field training with all the other recruits. you remembered being impressed with his skill and agility. You’d never seen such a quick learner when it came to the ways of the camp.

“Oh, uh- Peter,” he blushed, looking towards the floor.

It was silent between both of you as you waited for people to file in for the gathering to begin until he cleared his throat.

“Do- do you know why we’re here?” He asked shyly, playing with his fingers.

“Not really, no,” you thought, leaning against the tabled on your forearms, “I’m sure it’s just a personal assignment to venture out or to search the surrounding areas, nothing to hard,”

“Okay, okay,” he mumbled running his hands through his curls.

You looked at him with curiosity, “How long have you been here Peter?” 

“Two months,” he shrugged, a small smile creeping on his face, “I assume you’ve been here much longer?”

“Try fifteen years,” you chuckled, looking up at him, noticing his stiff posture, “Don’t worry about what other people think of you, here, we have no room for judgment,”

Your eyes caught the movement of the man who walked into the hut, “Well most people don’t,” you grumbled, picking at your nails

“Y/n,”

“Brock,” you muttered.

“Brock,” You heard Valkyrie repeat, just as annoyed as you were, “What are you doing here, you should be with Clint and the new recruits,”

“Well I ran into Stevie on the way here, heard that one of those recruits are in here,” he sent a pointed look to Peter.

“He’s here because I ordered him too. Don’t forget your place here Brock” Valkyrie countered  crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“Ah yes, how could I forget,” he smirked, walking over to Peter and slapping a hand on his back, “I just don’t think this one is ready for whatever you’re going to assign him too,”

“You mean the Peter who toped all of his skill classes by a landslide? The Peter who ran four laps around the camp without breaking a sweat? The Peter who took you down in his third fight with you?” You raised one of your eyebrows, standing up straight, “Whatever is it, I’m sure he is more than capable to do whatever he has to do,” you smiled sweetly, “Way more capable that you could ever be,”

Brock walked over to you, his fists and jaw clenched tightly. You didn’t move an inch, paying no mind to the tension that rose in the room, you continued.

“Maybe that’s why you have to find some excuse to get in here and hear something that confidential, It bothers you that someone you consider beneath you gets to instead,”

His anger only made you more amused and proud of yourself for pushing his buttons in the right ways to frustrate him the most.

Without a word, he stomped out of the room, bumping Steve in the shoulder on his way out.

You beamed returning to your original position against the table. Valkyrie and Carol stood with smirks on there faces while Peter smiled shyly. Steve stood confused by the entrance.

“Should I ask?” He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand.

“It’s nothing important,” Valkyrie smirked, turning to face Carol.

“Thank you, Y/n,” Peter said, letting out a loud breath, “No one’s ever stood up for me like that before,”

“It was my pleasure,” you grinned, leaning into Steve as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, “Brock’s a dick, don’t pay any mind to what he says. He pulls most of it out of his ass anyways.”

You and Peter chuckled while Steve sent you a look of confusion. Before he could ask what ever happened, Bruce came rushing into the hut.

“Finally!” Valkyrie exclaimed, “The man of the hour,”

“Sorry, I was discussing clothes arrangements with Wanda,” he mumbled out of breath, “Apparently the design wasn’t native to the kingdom so she had to do the stitching over before it was ready to wear to the castle,”

“To the castle?” You uttered, looking at bruce confused.

“Yes, for when you and Peter head to castle tonight?” He turned to Valkyrie, “Did you not tell them?”

...

A/n : So uh hi, it’s been a while. A lot of stuff has been going on in my life and adding that with school starting back, things have kind of been overwhelming. But now i think i’ve caught my bearings (hopefully anyways) and i got some inspiration to write so i took it. I hope you enjoy!

Feedback is always appreciated 🥰

Taglist : @jadegill​ @bluevxnus​ @learisa​ @supernaturalwintersoldier​ @un-viaje-en-las-estrellas 

[yeoldontknow]

🖊writerly conversation tag

tagged by @j-pping to do this amazing interview/reflections tag. of course she put together one of the most amazing tags ever because she is brilliant. thank you for tagging me angel! 

questions below the cut!

2020

what was the most challenging part of writing this year?

gosh...i think for me the hardest bit was staying both motivated and inspired. a lot of my inspiration comes from being out in the world. im an introvert but i enjoy being out in the city around the noise and the people and the buildings on my own. the majority of my writing used to be done while riding the subway or on a weekend after id gone out somewhere. a lot of my fics are inspired by locations, and experiences within those locations. being inside for the majority of the year made it hard for me to remember how...people interact with or relate to the spaces around them. so i felt like a lot of the time staying inspired was coming from places within just me that felt inauthentic. i think my writing benefits from my ability to see multiple perspectives, so i felt like a lot of dialogue or writing itself was suffering just coming from me alone. it took a lot of work to ensure that it wasnt like that. 

and then, motivation was also so hard. the internet and the news and everything about america, the planet, the everything was unrelenting and draining. we as people were privy to so much trauma this year, to the collapse and fracture of communities, lives, governments. there were several weeks at the end of may and into june where i just...couldnt. i had no energy for anything. it happened again in november after the election and the windfall of it. energetic tensions were so high it just felt so hard to push out words when things were breaking everywhere. like there were more important things i needed to focus on, and healing was one of them.

what was the most enjoyable/rewarding part of writing this year?

i enjoyed the new community of writers/friends i found by writing for bts again. they challenged me and pushed me to better myself. @jamaisjoons is so inspirational in the way she generates community and encourages relationships between storytellers. doing the summer bucket list pushed me out of my hermit hole for camp nano, and i cranked out molotov cocktail and felt so proud of it. it mattered so much to me because it was the first long thing id written after a period of feeling deceased, and it was so enjoyable because there was a sense of community around it. its easy to forget how essential having a support system in your creative community is.

what piece has left the most impact on you and why?

probably ciperion. words cannot express how proud i am of that story and the direction its going in. i read it back sometimes and i realize that my writing was elevated because of that piece. tbh molotov was responsible for that lift, but ciperion was just a whole other tier. ive also never written anything like that story before and it felt so good exploring the themes of seafaring and pirates. 

what have you learned about yourself through the process of writing in the past year?

that i absolutely am someone who took for granted how inspiring the world is even if i see it as a stressor. but also that writing isnt necessarily about being inspired. its about pushing on when its hard. some of my best pieces came from that kind of push this year. 2020 felt like...a slog through most of it, but i kept pushing myself to write even when i was low and tired. i realized that some of my best writing comes from that push, when its not easy and when its difficult and i have to think harder. thats where i grow. 

how has your writing changed in the past year? how have you grown?

i think im more syntax and detailed focused than i used to be. lately ive been experimenting with making the act of reading feel like pleasure. my favourite books are the ones where i read a sentence, and im moved because it felt nice to read or it felt powerful. the sentence itself had power, not the image it was trying to convey. somehow separate, if that makes sense. theres a lot i need to learn before i could go off comfortably and try to write a book, and this is what ive been trying to master. my attention to detail has grown, and sometimes i think thats a detriment. i think sometimes im too detailed and i dont leave my reader enough power on their own. im still finding that balance, but i think im pleased right now with what im trying to push myself to master.

2021

ignoring your wips for a second, if you had all the time and energy in the world to write your magnum opus piece, what would it be about? why is that the dream story you’d write, all other things controlled for?

ive had two books in my mind forever. one was originally being written as a fanfic in a different fandom before i stopped and realized its too big and so much more important, and is worth being a book id like to write. if i wrote an opus like this it would actually be a book id submit to publishers but ~

- hundreds of years in the future, society has learned how to cure most diseases. for those we cannot, the sick person can be cryogenically frozen for a period of time until a cure is found. there is, however, a limit to the length of time they are frozen. no one has ever been frozen for over 100 years, and the main character is a scientist embarking on the experiment to do just that. it is, effectively, time travel. the main character is rash, selfish, sarcastic - not a very nice person; invested in their work and science and little else. they freeze themselves and wake up in the future. during their time in rehab they have to confront the horror theyve made of themselves, the horror people have made of the future, learn to be vulnerable. they end up falling in love with another scientist etc etc. theres so much more to this story and the world is enormous. one day ill revisit it

- a fictional play on orpheus in the underworld where a female main character’s brother was sold by their mother to the goddess of the underworld (helena instead of hades) for eternal youth. the gods all live in a hotel (the concept of this main thing is being used in elysian fields but its not remotely the same) after they were removed from the heavens. main character (ophelia) must gather several totems from the gods to prove her worth and survive her trip into the underworld to rescue him. id like to not focus on a woman finding romance, and instead a woman finding herself, her strength, her devotion to family, her power, and connecting with her history.

how do you want to grow in your writing this year?

this year id like to find balance, like i mentioned above, with my need for detail and my trust in my readers. the balance between detail and dialogue. i want to try to condense my writing again so not everything is a goddamn series. the ideas i have are huge and thats great but i need to remember how to parse things again, while still maintaining impact.

what’s one thing you’d wish to see in the fan-writing community this year?

i want more community, in general. as a multi fan, i see pockets in the kpop fandom where it exists and im well and truly aware that its recently become incredibly hard to foster on the exo side. ill just say that. maybe i dont witness it or its happening amongst blogs i havent found or have not found me. i want to see less dialogue about ‘popular blogs,’ whatever that means; less focus on notes; less worries about statistics. i want people to remember that fandom is not about numbers, and the moment you make it about that is the moment you stop having fun. i want less fear from writers regarding sharing work they read and liked, less shame around it. i want to see more vocal communication for the things people like and don’t like, more engagement and more interaction. the concept of popular blogs is so ridiculous to me, because no one has any control over the metrics. no one has control over who follows them or reads their work except the person doing the actual reading. i want people to realize they hold so much power - a person with 10k notes has as much power as a person with 2 notes because sharing is what fosters community. i want this fandom to remember to share again.

name one new thing you want to try doing in your writing this year.

gosh i really love postmodernism in writing. think like mark z danielewski, who plays with the shapes of words or the act of holding a book - the physicality of it. id like to maybe write a choose your own adventure, or do something that encompasses multiple platforms. or even, more importantly, finish as still as sound and time runner. those are more reasonable goals. time runner actually is done, i just need to stop pressuring myself about it and edit it to get it up. asas, too, is largely done i just need to get my ass together. i have so many other ideas no one has ever seen i need to finish what ive started. thats a real goal.

tagging: @yehet-me-up @jamaisjoons @kyungseokie @jenmyeons @luffles424 @yoonia @shadowsremedy @chillingkoo @onherwings @inkedtae @ninibears-erigom @imdifferentshadesofpurple @readyplayerhobi @ditzymax @sugaurora @snackhobi @yeojaa @sahmfanficbts @xjoonchildx @johobi and anyone else who wants to do this. as always please only do so if comfortable or you want to!

[propensityforthemature44]

Texas Triangle

For most of my forties, I worked as the assistant news director for CBS News, based in Manhattan.    The position came with a number of perks, most notably salary and benefits greater than I would have earned back in my hometown on California’s Central Coast, where my career began.  Within mere walking distance, so many of New York’s great museums, concert halls, restaurants, etc. were right there to explore during the little free time allowed by a demanding career.  It was a spectacular time, the dynamics of television journalism in the twenty-first century, always learning something new, and the great people with whom I worked, the latter being perhaps one of the greatest benefits.  This was especially true regarding one particular co-worker: legendary anchorman Bob Schieffer.

Arguably one of the more recognizable reporters of our time with an impressive CV, Bob commanded the respect of everyone at Black Rock, as the New York headquarters of CBS is known, not just because of his professional accomplishments, but because of how well he interacted with others.  Whether you were network top brass or a member of the cleaning crew, he treated everyone with a sincere compassion.  It was quite common on a Monday morning for Bob to pass through the halls and ask other employees how their kids performed at a piano recital or baseball game over the weekend.  His affable nature allowed for bridge-building and ease of relationship maintenance between management and on-air talent, which made my life easier. This was a sharp contrast to the environment during the time of his friend and predecessor, Dan Rather, with whom I was acquainted and got on well, but the mention of whose name still drew eye-rolls on the property.  Our professional dealings were so excellent, that they eventually led to a friendship outside of work.

After a couple of years on the job, Bob and I became such good friends, we were frequent guests at one another’s home for dinner parties.  In fact, I had even been to his home for Christmas Eve dinner on consecutive years.  His wife was a wonderful, gracious woman, and the same could be said for the rest of the family whom I had the opportunity to meet.  It was a friendship based on trust in a professional situation, but had blossomed into what I considered to be a very rewarding relationship.  

Due to our difference in ages, he was in many ways a role model given his life experiences.  Also, I found myself very attracted to him, and why not?  He was a handsome, well-dressed, intelligent mature gentleman with a wonderful personality, in other words, exactly my type.  The exceptions being that he was straight, a colleague, and a friend.

One spring, I had planned to return to California, where I kept a home for visits and eventual retirement, for a couple of weeks to attend a family wedding and also to take some time to wind down by travelling along the coast.  A few days before I was scheduled to head west, my boss summoned me to his office one afternoon.  He requested that I schedule some time to speak with Bob about a personnel matter involving the research department.  When I reminded him that I would not be back in New York for two weeks, he expressed a desire for the matter to be concluded quickly.  So, I mentioned that I would be seeing Bob in Austin at the end of the week, and could discuss then.  He was a great boss, but I knew that he was aware that as a friend, I would be attending the awarding of an honorary doctorate to Bob by the University of Texas on my way back to the West Coast.  A crafty move on his part, but I would have tried the same.

A few days later, I traveled to Austin for a night, and checked into the Four Seasons downtown, where Bob was staying.  Upon checking in, the clerk informed me that he had passed to the front desk a message asking me to visit his suite.  I thanked her, and headed to my own room to drop-off my luggage, and do some minimal unpacking.  It was already 2:30 in Austin, and I was flying to SFO to get a connecting flight the next afternoon following the award and luncheon.

Upon settling, I headed to Bob’s suite on the top floor. I knocked on the door, and then heard, “I’ll be right there, John,” in his familiar Texas drawl.  When he opened the door, we shook hands, and then embraced in a more familiar hug of close friends.  He showed me around, a rather impressive room of no less than 1800 square feet overlooking the river.  “Where is Patricia?” I asked.  Bob replied, “Well, change of plans.”  He explained that his wife had gone to visit her sister in Dallas, whose husband was recovering from a recent procedure.  I asked him to pass along my regards.

We made our way into the living room to take care of business, which concluded rather quickly to my delight, and from there began to just be ourselves.  I congratulated him on the honor, and Bob being Bob, became flushed and modest.  He then arose, and asked if I wanted a drink, and he poured me a vodka on the rocks.  From there, we began to get caught up on a number of personal matters.

At one point he asked, “So, did you ever fill in that plus one on the wedding invitation?”  Even though we were close, I was taken by surprise, forgetting that Bob had been in my office when the invite arrived several months prior.  “No,” I said.  “I’ll be attending solo.  This way, I can focus on visiting with people at the events.  I only get back to the Coast a few times a year.”

This seemed to draw a rather puzzled look on Bob’s face, as I could clearly see the eyebrows pointed upward through the lenses of his reading glasses.  “Come on, John.  Are you trying to tell me that you can’t get a date for this wedding? You’re in your prime.  Forty-five years old, handsome, well-educated, well-traveled, great career, and you spend most of your time in California when not in New York.  I’m sure there are plenty of eligible gentlemen in both places who would love to accompany you.”

I was shocked, to say the least.  On the one hand, flattered, on the other, feeling as if I’d been drawn out of the closet, even though my being gay was not a secret at headquarters.  Before I could respond, Bob asked, “Did you think I did not know?  You know it doesn’t matter, right?”  The answer of course being, I knew, despite the whole TCU connection he had, that he did not care about ethnicity, orientation, race, religion, etc., with regard to how he viewed people.  

“I suppose that it’s just never come up in conversation between us over the years,” I said.  Thinking about it, I supposed it was true, despite my occasional lusts for him.  

“Well, no pressure, but I would just like to see you with someone.  This isn’t the 1950’s, a couple of 40’s/50’s something guys like you should be enjoying the time together”, Bob said with a smile.

I answered, “That could be an issue.  You see, I have a type, and what you describe, doesn’t match.”  

“Well then, what is your type of man?” Bob inquired.  

In a matter of seemingly no time, I found myself pouring out the details of my ideal man: mature, handsome, worldly, cultured, gentile.  He laughed, “Why on Earth would you want to be with an old man?”  “Not just any old man, the right sort of older man.  Truth be told, he would be a man, like you, Bob, in many respects.”

He looked a little taken aback, so I said that I would head back to my room, and see him at the ceremony.  As I made my way for the front door, I felt a tug on my right arm, and when I turned around, Bob embraced me in a hug and said, “Don’t leave just yet.  You just surprised me is all.  You know that there is no problem for us, right?”  

“Yes,” I said.  

“You know that I love my wife, don’t you, John?”

“Of course, Bob.”

With that, he moved his arms down, and then up along my jacket, caressing my back and chest as he pulled me closer, pulling off his glasses before passionately and firmly pressing his lips to mine.  Not exactly the first time kissing a man significantly older than myself, but this was certainly unchartered territory.  I was so turned on, it felt as if I were high, and wow, could he kiss.  It was a perfect example of why older men are better: they know things.  Even more, I was beginning to realize this was not his first time with another man, certainly not when he began to move his hand over my crotch, focusing on my now fully erect manhood.

“What do we have here?” he asked slyly, as he bent down to unbuckle and open my slacks.  From there, he took me across his lips, and then along his tongue, taking my entirety within his mouth, moving me back and forth.  The sensation was so pleasing, I felt as if I was going to pass out in the middle of the suite.  Hearing his moans and seeing the look upon his face, Bob was enjoying the act at least as much.

After a couple of minutes, he stood and pressed himself against me, with me now feeling the full excitement coming from Bob’s side. We embraced in a kiss for minutes, not wanting to separate.  Toward the end, he was undoing my tie, and I his, after I removed my jacket, and then unzipped his fly, as I had imagined doing so many times over the years. Feeling a drop of pre-cum, I spread it along his tip, then began to move my hand back and forth, reveling in his moans and breathing, until he pulled himself closer and whispered, “Let’s go to the bedroom.”

Within a matter of seconds, we had completely undressed and were embraced near the foot of the bed, and engaged in a complete lip-lock. As I saw it, there was certainly no reason to separate now.  He tasted so good, and I knew he felt the same.  In addition, we had established that he loved his wife, I had no intention of getting in the way, and my attraction to him had clearly taken over after settling those details.

We separated for a moment, as Bob walked over to the side of the bed.  He pulled back the covers and climbed inside.  Leaning on his side he patted his hand on the opposite side of the bed and said, “Come on, don’t be shy,” grinning from ear to ear.  It was all the invitation needed for me to get under the covers and wrap my arms around his beautiful, smooth body.  I wasted no time before reuniting with his lips and playing with his wonderful tongue.  I moved my hands up and down his torso, finally settling down on his firm and gorgeous ass, adjusting to move my head down to focus on his nipples with my tongue and using my right hand to stroke him.  

I could not believe that this was happening.  This was a good friend, a colleague, and although this had been a fantasy for a few years, I could never have imagined that he would be so receptive and then some.  I had every intention of making the most of the opportunity, and thus moved further down to take him in my mouth, and give him his medicine.

“Oh my god,” he exclaimed.  “That is so wonderful.  Please don’t stop.”

I moved up and down along his shaft, wrapping my tongue around the head, and after a couple of minutes, began to really work the head with my mouth while using my hand to pleasure his shaft.  In doing so, I really began to get turned on by his moaning. After a few minutes, he placed his hand on my chest, as if to pause, but then pushed down until I lay flat on my back. Now, Bob was in charge, cleaning my testicles with his tongue, before focusing down on my cock. He moved up and down, closing his eyes, then opening them so that he could see the look of joy upon my face, and he certainly knew how to put in there with years of practice.  

What seemed like hours of pure delight had passed when he let up and pulled himself back up to cuddle and kiss deeply and passionately. He was so close to having me reach the limit, but suddenly pulled back from the act, held me close and whispered into my ear, “Please enter me, darlin’.  I want you to, it will be okay.”  Then, Bob, pulled away and reached into the night stand drawer, and to my surprise, produced a bottle of lube.

“Now, you what to do, don’t you?” Bob asked rhetorically, as he kissed me on the forehead.  So, I felt compelled to prove him right, and lubed my right index finger, and moved it slowly across his rosebud.  This made him twitch and tickle at first, but he knew he was in good company, and I would never let him feel discomfort.  So, as he loosened up after a minute, I lubed my middle finger as well, and began to slowly move them back and forth until I eventually reached his prostate.  Now, he was putty in my hands.  

Once my cock was sufficiently lubricated, I placed myself upon his precipice, slowly waiting for the right time, as I lay with my head upon his stomach. After a minute or two, I lifted my head toward his to embrace in a passionate kiss, after which he said, “I’m ready.”

I began to move ever so slowly back and forth, Bob in the missionary position, resting his heels on my shoulders, facing one another.  It was so hot with the pleasure being split equally.  Every time I thrust forward, I would make eye contact so as to see how much he was enjoying the penetration.  He was giddy like a schoolboy, but more appropriately as an adult, panting and moaning.  After several minutes, neither of us could handle any more, and I thrust against his prostate and ejected a stream within Bob, and then he let out a sigh, “Ohhh, god,” and shot a river of cum across my chest.  Once concluded, we wrapped one another in hugs and kisses, and cuddled. It had been a couple of months since my last experience, but would easily say it was the best sex I had at that point in my life.

Eventually, the silence was broken by the ring of the room’s landline.  Bob answered, “Hello.  Come on now, of course I didn’t forget about you.  Drop by when you’re ready,” he chuckled.

I looked over at the clock, and a couple of hours had since passed.  Then I looked at Bob, and said, “Well, if you’re having a visitor, perhaps it’s best if I move to my room.”  

Bob winked at me and said, “Don’t worry, sweetheart.  You may want to put this on, however,” as he passed me a robe, along with a pair of slippers.

After a few minutes, there was a knock at the door.  Bob went out to the hallway to answer, and I could hear the faint echo of what appeared to be excited conversation between old friends. In the moment, it occurred to me that Bob felt comfortable enough with me to have me here in a robe, while inviting someone else inside, but I still had a tinge of awkwardness about the room. This was originally supposed to be just a stop on the way back west, but had taken a fantastic detour.

Then, a minute later, Bob came walking around the corner, also robed. Then, he asked, “You met John back at one of the holiday parties, didn’t you?”  A moment later around the corner stepped James “Jim” Baker III, former Secretary of Treasury, White House Chief of Staff, to name just a few posts. Being a double-major political science/journalism as an undergraduate, of course he was a familiar figure, in addition to being introduced at Bob’s house.

“Of course.  Nice to see you again, John.”  He smiled, but you could tell from the expression on his face, that this, by no means, was the encounter he had expected.  It was known that although there had been many interviews over the years, they had developed a friendship off-camera.  So, while a stately, respectful man, he did seem somewhat put off that there was an extra man in the room, and reported, “Well, I won’t stay too long.”

The phone rang once more, and Bob said, “I’ll need to take this.  Can you two make yourselves comfortable?”  

“Sure,” we replied in unison.

Jim made his way around to sit on one of the sofas.  He was, I think, a rather handsome man in his own right.  Nicely cut head of white hair, beautiful navy blue suit with a red and blue striped tie, it was as if he’d just stepped out of a Brooks Brothers ad.                                                       

We attempted the task of small talk, although there was a bit of discomfort in the air.  The conversation shifted to the next day’s event for Bob, which brought us both to Austin in the first place, then moved to an overview of each of our schedules for the week. Eventually, I noticed him wince a little, and asked if he was okay.  

“Oh sure, I’m fine.  Just paying the price for a round of golf this past weekend.  No carts, all walking, so my feet are a little tender,” he chuckled.

 I’m not sure what came over me, but I stood up and moved an ottoman closer to Jim, and sat down.  Then, one-by one, I extended each of his legs and removed his cordovan Alden tassel loafers and began to massage his dress-socked feet.  

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” he said.  

“I’m sorry, I just thought you were having discomfort.  I’ll stop.”

“Well, it certainly is improving things,” Jim said, laughing a little.

I continued doing so for a couple of minutes, enjoying his pleasure.

Then, Bob returned and leaned over Jim to ask, “Do you still want to leave, Bake? They have such great service here.”

Bob then reached over and removed Jim’s suit jacket, as I continued to massage his tired feet.  After hanging his jacket, Bob returned, and from behind, planted a deep kiss on Jim’s lips, that seemed to go on for minutes.  It would have become obvious to an outside observer why Jim seemed edgy at first; he had planned on meeting Bob all by himself, and the way they were going at it, it was not the first or even fifth time, this had been an arrangement for a while.

While they were still kissing, I placed Jim’s feet on the floor, and made my way to his chair.  I moved my hand up and down each of his corresponding legs, and then focused on the midsection.  I caressed his torso, and transferred to his belt, which I unbuckled, then unzipped his fly and opened his slacks, and reaching inside the front hole of his boxers to release him.  Now, he was mine, all 7 inches of engorgement that had developed in the past few minutes, and I wrapped my mouth around the head of his beautiful cock and began working my way up and down.  I could feel the vein along the side, as it met my tongue, and could feel his excitement as he wriggled while still kissing Bob.  

Bob untied Jim’s tie, and I began to move my hand inside of his shirt to feel his amazing chest.  Not smooth like Bob’s, but just the right amount of hair, and light-colored.  In a few minutes, we moved to the bedroom.

We placed Jim back on the bed, and then proceeded to fully undress him.  I moved my way up the bed to kiss him, and again, older men know things.  He was a master kisser, and we worked on one another while Bob serviced Jim below the deck. After a minute or two, I extended my right hand upward and began playing with his nipple.  It seemed to be going well, so I released myself from his lips, and re-focused my mouth on his left nipple, while using my hand to play with his right.

To my delight, he was enthused, evidenced by his moaning of satisfaction.  In fact, he must have been so appreciative, because without notice, he eventually maneuvered so that he could take me into his mouth, and did he ever do so.  He had me in sheer ecstasy for several minutes, moving up and down on my head and shaft, completely reviving me for another performance.

At one point, he changed gears, shifting to Bob.  After all, Bob had been hard at work for some time, and it was his turn to receive the delights he deserved.  In doing so, he placed his hands on each side of Bob’s torso and pulled him up further on the bed.  Then, he got between Bob’s legs and lowered his head, lips first.  As he did, Bob’s patented grin returned to his face as he moved his head back and forth on the pillow.

It’s often said when a threesome occurs, that one person can find himself left out of the equation.  I did not find this to be the case, but rather an opportunity. Specifically, Jim’s spectacular ass was now staring me right in the face.  I extended my hands outward, massaging his buttocks.  It was wonderful, so smooth and tight, you could just feel that he worked out 3-4 times per week.  I could also feel that he was enjoying the chain of stimulation, as on the front end, his mouth and hand were now bringing Bob to new heights of joy.  So, I reached over to the bedside table and retrieved the bottle of lube from earlier.  One by one, I lubed my fingers, and began to finger Jim.  He wriggled a little at first, but began to relax and loosen up, so a couple of minutes later, I spread a generous amount of lube on my cock, and then inserted myself into the former Secretary of Treasury.

As I stated before, this is not anything like I had imagined this trip unfolding.  I wanted it to last as long as possible, so I slowly slid in and out.  He was so moist, and I was so turned by watching him blow Bob and all of the moaning coming from both of them.  I knew it would be only a few minutes at the most until I released myself within Jim.

“Jim,” Bob panted a few minutes later.  “I can’t hang on much longer.”

Jim pulled Bob out of his mouth and began to quickly jerk him off before replying, “Come on, honey.”

Bob threw his head back and said, “Oh my god,” and then proceeded to cum right into Jim’s mouth, which he took like a pro and countered, “Umhm.”

I couldn’t take any more myself, and then pushed further into Jim before shooting a load.

Bob put his head back on the pillow.  His expression was one of satisfaction and exhaustion.  He was spent.

Jim leaned over and covered Bob with the sheet.  Then, he kissed him deeply and passionately on the lips, then gently on the forehead.

I was now lying flat on my back, and Jim cuddled up next to me. He extended both hands, placed them on either side of my face, and pulled me in for a wonderful kiss that made me melt away, and we held in the embrace for several minutes.

“Doesn’t he look cute when he’s sleeping?” he asked me while looking over at Bob.

“As for you, you are every bit as good as I thought you’d be.  Mmm, mmm, mmm.  I knew the first time I laid eyes on you.”  With that, he maneuvered so that he was right on top of me, and as he did, his cock rubbed up against my leg, just dripping with pre-cum.  

Jim pressed his manhood right up against my balls and said, “There just one thing, son.  The next time you’re in Texas, I get Bobby first.  Understood?”

“Understood,” I said.

He then smiled at me, and lifted my legs upward so that my feet were now resting on his shoulders.  With his right hand, he grabbed the lube and squirted several drops on my anus and a plentiful amount over his cock, and moved it up and down his shaft.  Then, he got closer, and pushed himself gently up against my opening.  His cock was just the right size, not too thick, not too thin, that with the lube, he slid right into me.

 “Oh my,” he muttered, as he began to move back and forth.

It was heavenly, as he moved in and out, building up his pace over a few minutes.  Eventually, he unloaded what felt like a gallon of cum all over my insides, falling forward and resting his head on my chest for several minutes before he went limp and released himself from me.  

I must have dozed off because after a while, I felt a hand upon my chin.  I looked up to find Bob smiling as he asked, “Hello, darlin’.  Are you ready for another go?”

What transpired then is between the three of us. That said, it would not be my final encounter with either Bob or Jim.

[lilywoood]

You’ve got a Mail 1/?

Hi guys I’m back from my little hiatus, I want to thank you for bearing with me, for your support all along that painful time of my life, I want to thank you for all the love you gave to my family and I, most of all I want to thank you for your patience so here it is my new project, my ideal crossover, here is the surprise I was preparing hoping that you’ll come to like it and that you’ll want to embark in this new journey. ♥️♥️♥️

If you like it and want to be tagged in futur part hit my askbox ♥️♥️.

Tag list : @felicitous-one, @translucent-bisexual @cherishingstydia @diazbuckleysworld @chrrlees @justsmilestuffhappens @comablog2 @hardychick89

Word count : 1543

Song : When the party’s over - Billy Eilish

“Hello my name is Evan “Buck” Buckley, I’m a 28 Virgo firefighter in LA and I recently was diagnosed with severe PTSD”

Buck sighed looking at his computer screen, like every nights for the past three weeks he was writing and deleting the same message, battling with himself about wether he should post it or not, wondering if it would really help, if they were really people out there who could understand him, support him, comfort him... and just like every nights he resigned himself, he deleted the message, closed his laptop and went straight to his fridge shoulder slumped and a tired chuckle escaping his lips, he knew better than hoping, hope was for dreamers, for idealists, for the old Buck, not for the new him, the adult Buck, Buck 2.5.

Throwing a quick glance at the clock above the fridge he noticed how it was a little close to 2a.m, he knew he should probably get back to sleep, try to get some rest so that he would be fully efficient, so that he wouldn’t give his team another reason to criticize him, another reason to blame him if something were to go wrong.

It was an impossible task, sleeping didn’t mean rest anymore, sleeping was akin to torture for Buck, sleeping meant reliving the bombing, it meant that his left leg will start to ache, would get numb, it meant he would start to feel the heaviness of the truck, that his ears would start to buzz, that his breathing would get harder because the aches were clogging his lungs, and then water would replace the aches, then he’ll hear himself scream Christopher’s name but Christopher never called back, he was never saved...

His eyes kept on going from his couch to the six pack in the fridge, he was tempted to drink it all, tempted to down it until he passed out, after all passing out was not far from sleeping except that they won’t be nightmares, flashes, screams, passing out meant a dreamless sleep and that what he needed, what he yearned...

He wasn’t thrilled to get to work that morning, his head was pounding thanks to a raging headache and his muscles were sore due to the accumulation of sleepless nights....

He tiredly went through his morning routine, first a little run around his block, then a quick shower followed by breakfast and swallowing all the pills his therapist prescribed, final with little to no motivation got ready for work, already knowing what was awaiting him at the firehouse, knowing that they were going to make assumptions of how bad he looked...

He knew he looked like shit he felt like it too, that didn’t meant it was okay for people to remind him how bad it was, still he could already hear them, hear the critics, the whispers, could feel the glares...

He didn’t want to go, didn’t want to face them but he had to, he had to prove them he deserved his place, prove them he was right, show them he wasn’t a petulant kid, he was a fighter, a survivor, a warrior.

It’s been two months since he’s been reinstated, two months since he was ostracized, two months of nasty comments, two months of cold shoulders, two months of isolation, two months of loneliness.

If he was his old self he would have been gutted by it, he would have tried to win them back, would have been crawling at their feet begging for forgiveness , but he wasn’t Buck 2.0 anymore, gone was his childlike naivety, gone was his tendency to forgive and forget, he was like them now, an adult, a grown up forged by deception and betrayal, set on fighting for what was right, for what he deserved, he wasn’t going to beg, wasn’t going to forgive, he was fighting now, proving himself and not letting any of them makes him doubt his decisions, his choices they could either accept it or get lost.

He was always the first to get to the station, it was a decision he’d made three days after his reinstatement, after he overheard some of his teammates protest over his comeback, after he heard Chim and Eddie joke about how he wouldn’t make it till the end of the shift, after he heard them bet on what his next injury would be and if this time he would finally understand that he wasn’t meant to be a firefighter.

He never felt as betrayed and hurt as that day, never felt so much hate, bitterness and resentment for people he loved, admired, cherished, it wasn’t their comments, their glares and badmouthing that made him detest them, it was how they turned his love and respect for them into animosity, loathing, venom.

He was well entranced in reorganizing the inventory when he heard them, the taunting sound of their laughers.

He felt a shiver run down his spine, he felt his heart clenching in his chest, he felt stupid and ridiculous, it was pathetic how much he missed and loathed them.

It was close to lunch break when Hen joined him in the room, he was recounting the numbers of gauzes when she taped him on his shoulder making him jump back .

-Hey Buck, she smiled taking place next to him, didn’t saw you up here, she mentioned.

-Yeah, he shrugged, I didn’t, he stammered, I didn’t really felt like eating today, he chuckled still focused on his counting.

-You know avoiding us....avoiding them, she frowned, it won’t fix things, she offered

-I heard them, Buck whispered facing her, I heard them joke about how I wasn’t fit for this job, he snorted, how I was a walking disaster.

-Oh Buck, she gasped, I’m sure they didn’t...

-They meant it Hen, he cut, they meant every damn words, he growled stopping himself when he noticed her flinching, sorry, he croaked, god I’m such a mess, he mumbled kneeling down.

-Hey no no, she interrupted him, no need, to apologize, she reassured him, Buckaroo, she called softly, I’m not mad at you, she grinned.

-I’m just... it’s just I’m cranky cause I didn’t sleep well, he croaked, sorry I took it on you.

-You’re still having nightmares , she remarked sadly.

-I’m kinda used to them now, he tried to joke.

-Did you told someone about it, she frowned.

He nodded his eyes fixed on some stain on the floor, Hen bumped their shoulders accepting his sudden silence.

-I go to therapy twice a week, he whispered, I have a treatment, he pursued, but sometimes even the strongest medications can’t keep the brain from remembering, he admitted.

-I take that therapy doesn’t help, she stated.

-It help more than I though, he objected, it’s just sometimes I’d like to talk about it with someone that could relate to me.

-Someone with who you could share it without feeling analyzed, she nodded in understanding, did you told this to your therapist, she asked.

-Yes, he chucked, she, he cleared his throat, actually she...she tried to get me to join some sort of online therapy group, he frowned, for people with PTSD.

-And that’s not your thing, she guessed, Buck shrugged not knowing how to explain himself, is it the internet thing or the fact that it’s with people you don’t know, she pursued.

-I assumed that if I needed to talk about it, you guys would have my back, he wheezed, but then it all went wrong, he sniffed, and the only person that could understand me, the only person I could talk with now hates my gut, he gasped, so tell me how can I rely on strangers when my own friends turned their back on me, he smiled tears rolling down his cheeks.

-I’m not turning my back on you, Hen declared hugging him tightly, you have me and Karen if you need, she offered, but Buck, she added, maybe you should give that online thing a shot until things get better here, she offered before the alarm went off forcing her to leave him behind.

The rest of his day went smoothly, the 118 spend their shift having calls after calls, meaning that he never had to cone across one of them much to his relief, still Hen words have been playing in his head all day, that’s how he found himself glaring at his computer screen once he got home.

He was reading over and over the message he was about to post, trying to come up with an excuse, with anything that could make him delete it once more, but when he closed his eyes to think about it all he could see were the flashes, the memories, the reminders, he needed help, he needed friends and support and if his surrogate family couldn’t give it to him then maybe he could find it in the comfort of strangers.

So with trembling fingers and an over beating heart he clicked send, he took the leap and was rewarded mere seconds later with a new message less shorter than his, and a bit warmer, he took it as a sign that his wish, his prayer has finally been heard.

“Hi Buck my name is Tyler Kennedy “TK” Strand, I’m a 26 Scorpio firefighter in Austin, I’m also struggling with PTSD among other things, so if you ever wanna chat don’t hesitate”

[dustedmagazine]

Slept Ons: The Best Records of 2020 That We Never Got Around To

Tattoos and shorts! How did we miss the Oily Boys?

It happens pretty much every year.  After much fussing and second-guessing, the year-end list gets finalized, set in stone really, encapsulating 12 months of enthusiastic listening, and surely these are the best ten records anyone could find, right? Right?  And then, a day or a week later, someone else puts up their list or records their year-end radio show, and there it is, the record you could have loved and pushed and written about…if only you’d known about it.  My self-kick in the shins came during Joe Belock’s 2020 round-up on WFMU when he played the Chats.  Others on our staff knew, earlier on, that they weren’t writing about records they loved for whatever reason — work, family, mp3 overload, etc. Except now they are.  Here.  Now. Enjoy.  

Contributors include me (Jennifer Kelly), Eric McDowell, Jonathan Shaw, Justin Cober-Lake, Bill Meyer, Bryon Hayes, Ian Mathers, Andrew Forell, Michael Rosenstein and Patrick Masterson. 

The Chats — High Risk Behavior (Bargain Bin)

High Risk Behaviour by The Chats

Cartoonishly primitive and gleefully out of luck, The Chats hurl Molotov cocktails of punk, bright and exploding even as they come. They’re from Australia, which totally makes sense; there’s a sunny, health-care-subsidized, devil-may-care vibe to their down-on-their luck stories. Musically, the songs are stripped down like Billy Childish, sped up like the Ramones, brute simple like Eddy Current Suppression Ring. Most of them are about alcohol: drinking, being drunk, getting arrested for being drunk, eating while drunk…etc. etc. But there’s an art to singing about getting hammered, and few manage the butt-headed conviction of “Drunk & Disorderly.” Its jungle rhythms, vicious, saw-toothed bass, quick knife jabs of guitar frame an all-hands drum-shocked chant: “Relaxation, mood alteration, boredom leads to intoxication.” Later singer Eamon Sandwith cuts right to the point about romance with the couplet, “I was cautious, double wrapped, but still I got the clap.” The album’s highlights include the most belligerently glorious song ever about cyber-fraud in “Identity Theft,” whose shout along chorus buoys you up, even as the dark web drains your savings account dry. The album strings together a laundry list of dead-end, unfortunate situations, one after another truly hopeless developments, but nonetheless it explodes with joy. Bandcamp says the guitar player has already left—so you’re too late to see the Chats live—but it must have been fun while it lasted.

Jennifer Kelly

Oliver Coates — skins n slime  (RVNG Intl)

skins n slime by Oliver Coates

2020 was a year of loss, of losing, of feeling lost. Whether weathering the despair of illness and death, the discomfort of displacement or the drift of temporal reverie, English cellist Oliver Coates creates music to reflect all this and more on skins n slime. Using modulators, loops and effects, Coates employs elements from drone, shoegaze and industrial to extend the range of the cello and conjure otherworldly sounds of crushing intensity and great beauty. Beneath the layering, distortion and dissonance, the human element remains strong. The tactility of fingers and bow on strings and the expressive essence of tone form the core of Coates composition and performance. If his experiments seem a willful swipe at the restrictions of the classical world from whence he came, the visceral power of a track like “Reunification 2018”, which hunkers in the same netherworld as anything by Deathprod or Lawrence English, the liminal, static bedecked ache of “Honey” and the unadorned minimalism of “Caretaker Part 1 (Breathing)” are works of a serious talent. skins n slime is an album to sit with and soak in; allow it to percolate and permeate and you’ll find yourself forgetting the outside world, if only for a while.  

Andrew Forell  

Bertrand Denzler / Antonin Gerbal — Sbatax (Umlaut Records)

Sbatax by Denzler - Gerbal

Tenor sax player Bertrand Denzler and drummer Antonin Gerbal released this duo recording last summer which slipped under the radar of many listeners. Denzler is as likely to be heard these days composing and performing pieces by others in the French ensemble ONCEIM, playing solo, or in settings for quiet improvisation. But he’s been burning it up as a free jazz player for years now as well. Gerbal also casts a broad net, as a member of ONCEIM, deconstructing free bop in the group Peeping Tom, or recontextualizing the music of Ahmed Abdul-Malik along with Pat Thomas, Joel Grip and Seymour Wright in the group Ahmed amongst many other projects. The two have worked together in a variety of contexts for a decade now, recording a fantastic duo back in 2014. Sbatax, recorded five years later at a live performance in Berlin is a worthy follow-up.  

Gerbal attacks his kit with ferocity out of the gate, with slashing cymbals and thundering kit, cascading along with drubbing momentum. Denzler charges in with a husky, jagged, repeated motif which he loops and teases apart, matching the caterwauling vigor of his partner straightaway. Over the course of this 40-minute outing, one can hear the two lock in, coursing forward with mounting intensity. Denzler increasingly peppers his playing with trenchant blasts and rasping salvos, riding along on Gerbal’s torrential fusillades. Throughout, one can hear the two dive deep in to free jazz traditions while shaping the arc of the improvisation with an acute ear toward the overall form of the piece. Midway through, Denzler steps back for a torrid drum solo, then jumps back in with renewed dynamism as the two ride waves of commanding potency and focus to a rousing conclusion, goaded on by the cheering audience. Anyone wondering whether there is still life in the tenor/drum duo format should dig this one up.  

Michael Rosenstein

Kaelin Ellis — After Thoughts (self-released)

After Thoughts by KAELIN ELLIS

To be sure, “slept on” hardly characterizes Kaelin Ellis in 2020. After a trickle of lone tracks in the first months of the year, a Twitter video posted by the 23-year-old producer and multi-instrumentalist caught the attention of Lupe Fiasco, quickly precipitating the joint EP House. It’s a catchy story from any number of angles — the star-powered “discovery” of a young talent, the interconnectedness of the digital age, the silver linings of the COVID-19 pandemic — but it risks overshadowing Ellis’s two 2020 solo records: Moments, released in the lead-up to House, and After Thoughts, released in October. It doesn’t help that each album’s dozen tracks scarcely add up to as many minutes, or that the producer’s titles deliberately downplay the results. And some, of course, will judge these jazzy, deeply soulful beats only against their potential as platforms for some other, more extroverted artist. “I’d like to think I’m a jack of all trades,” Ellis told one interviewer, “but in all honesty my specialty is creating a space for others to stand out.”

Yet as with all small, good things, there’s reward in savoring these miniatures on their own terms, and After Thoughts in particular proved an unexpected retreat from last fall’s anxieties. Ellis has a poet’s gift for distillation and juxtaposition, a director’s knack for pathos and dramatic sequencing — powers that combine to somehow render a fully realized world. As fleeting as it is, Ellis’s work communicates a generosity of care and concentration, opening a space for others not just to stand out but also to settle in.

Eric McDowell   

Lloyd Miller with Ian Camp and Adam Michael Terry — At the Ends of the World

At the Ends of the World by Lloyd Miller with Ian Camp and Adam Michael Terry

Miller and company fuse the feel of a contemporary classical concert with eastern modalities and instrumentation. The recordings sound live off the floor, and give a welcome sense of space and detail to the sensitive playing. Miller has explored the intersection between Persian and other cultural traditions and jazz through the lens of academic scholarship and recorded output since the 1960s. With this release, the performances linger in a space where vibe is as important as compositional structure. The results revel in the beauty when seemingly unrelated musical ideas emerge together in the same moment, with startling results.

Arthur Krumins

 Oily Boys — Cro Memory Grin (Cool Death)

Cro Memory Grin by Oily Boys

The title of this 2020 LP by Australian punks Oily Boys sounds like a pun on “Cro-Magnon,” an outmoded scientific name for early humans. It’s apt: the music is smarter than knuckle-dragger beatdown or run-of-the-mill powerviolence, but still driven by a rancorous, id-bound savagery. The smarts are just perceptible enough to keep things pretty interesting. Some of the noisier, droning and semi-melodic stretches of Cro Memory Grin recall the records made by the Men (especially Leave Home) before they decided to try to make like Uncle Tupelo, or some lesser version of the Hold Steady. Oily Boys inhabit a darker sensibility, and their music is more profoundly bonkers than anything those other bands got up to. Aggro, discordant punk; flagellating hardcore burners; psych-rock-adjacent sonic exorcisms — you get it all, sometimes in a single five-minute passage of Cro Memory Grin (check out the sequence from “Lizard Scheme” to “Heat Harmony” to “Stick Him.” Yikes). A bunch of the tunes spill over into one another, feedback and sustain jumping the gap from one track to the next, which gives the record a live vibe. It feels volatile and sweaty. The ill intent and unmitigated nastiness accumulate into a palpable force, tainting the air and leaving stains on your tee shirt. Oily Boys have been kicking around Sydney’s punk scene since at least 2014, but this is their first full-length record. One hopes they can continue to play with this degree of possessed abandon without completing burning themselves to down to smoldering cinders. At least long enough to record some more music.

Jonathan Shaw

 Dougie Poole — The Freelancer's Blues (Wharf Cat)

The Freelancer's Blues by Dougie Poole

A cursory listen might misconstrue the heart of Dougie Poole's second album, The Freelancer's Blues. When he mixes his wobbly country sound with lyrics like those in “Vaping on the Job,” it sounds like genre play, a smirking look at millennial life through an urban cowboy's vintage sound. Poole does target a particular set of issues, but mapping them with his own slightly psychedelic country comes with very little of the postmodern itch. His characters feel just as troubled as anyone coming out of 1970s Nashville, and as Poole explores these lives with wit and empathy, the songs quickly find their resonance.

The album, though it wouldn't reach for pretentious terms, carries an existential problem at its center. Poole circles around the fundamental void: work deadens, relocation doesn't help, spiritual pursuits falter, intelligence burdens, and even the drugs don't help. When Poole finally gets the title track, the preceding album gives his confession extra weight, a mix of life's strictures and personal limitation combining for a crisis best avoided but wonderfully shared. The Freelancer's Blues comes rich in Nashville tradition but finds an ideal fit in its contemporary place, likely providing a soundtrack for a variety of times and spaces yet to come.

Justin Cober-Lake

 Schlippenbach Quartett — Three Nails Left (Corbett Vs. Dempsey)

You might say that this record has been slept on twice. The second recording to be released by the Alexander von Schlippenbach, Evan Parker and Paul Lovens (augmented this time by Peter Kowald) was released in 1975, and didn’t get a second pressing — on vinyl — until 2019. So, Corbett Vs. Dempsey stepped up last summer, it had never been on CD. But this writer was so stumped on how to relate how intense, startling, and unlike any other free improvisation it was and is, that he just… slept on it. Until now. Even if you know this band, if you don’t know this album, well, it’s time you got acquainted.

Bill Meyer 

Stonegrass — Stonegrass (Cosmic Range)

STONEGRASS by Stonegrass

Released on the cusp of a tentative re-opening for the city of Toronto after two months of lock-down, this slab of psychedelic funk-rock was the perfect antidote to the COVID blues when it arrived at the tail end of a Spring spent in near-isolation. The jam sessions that became Stonegrass were also a new beginning for multi-instrumentalist Matthew “Doc” Dunn and drummer Jay Anderson, who reignited a spirit of collaboration after a decade of sonic estrangement following the demise of their Spiritual Sky Blues Band project. Listening to these songs, you’d never know they spent any time apart. The tight, bottom-wagging jams on offer are evidence that these two are joined together at the third eye. Anderson’s grooves run deep, and Dunn — whether he’s traipsing along on guitar, keys or flutes — is right there with him. There’s enough fuzz here to satiate the heads, but the real treat here is the rhythmic interplay. Strap in and prepare to get down. 

Bryon Hayes 

 Bob Vylan — We Live Here EP (Venn Records)

Bob Vylan flew under the radar in 2020 successfully enough that when someone nominated them for the best of 2020 poll in Tom Ewing’s Peoples’ Pop Polls project on Twitter (each month a different year or category gets voted on in World Cup-style brackets, it’s great fun and only occasionally maddening), most of the reaction was “is that one a typo?” Nobody had that response after listening to “We Live Here” — my wife also participates in the poll, so we just play all the candidates in our apartment, and Bob Vylan was the first time both of our jaws dropped in amazement; the song got played about ten times in a row at that point. Bobby (vocals/guitar/production) and Bobbie (drums/“spiritual inspiration”) Vylan’s 18-minute EP lives up to that title track, fireball after fireball aimed directly at the corrupt, crumbling, racist state that seems utterly indifferent to human suffering unless there’s profit in it. Whether it’s the raging catharsis of the title track or the cool, precise hostility of “Lynch Your Leaders,” Bob Vylan have made something vital and essential here, that very much speaks to 2020 but sadly will stay relevant long past it.  

Ian Mathers

 Working Men’s Club — Working Men’s Club (Heavenly Recordings)

It’s been evident these past few years that I’ve retreated from music and committed myself to the slower world of books as a way of giving my mind a break from the accelerating madness outside, but I could never really leave my radio family the same way I could never really leave Dusted. Another great example why: A fellow CHIRP volunteer played “John Cooper Clarke” in a December Zoom social I actually managed to catch, and I’ve been addicted to Working Men’s Club’s debut LP from October ever since. The quartet hails from Todmodren, a market town you won’t be surprised upon listening to discover is roughly equidistant between Leeds and Manchester; the album screams Hacienda vibes in its seamless integration of post-punk signifiers and dancefloor style. It’s easy to bandy about names from Rip It Up and Start Again or even The Velvet Underground in 12-minute closer “Angel,” certainly one of the most arresting tracks of the year, but the thing that struck me immediately is that this was the record I’d always anticipated but never got from Factory Floor — smart, aloof and occasionally calculated, yet still fun enough to play for any crowd itching to move. Until the community of a dance party or Working Men’s Club live set is once again possible, patience and a fully formed first album will have to suffice. You’ll have to imagine the part where I corner you at the party to rave about it, I’m afraid.

Patrick Masterson

[creek-cryptid-deluxe]

So, It’s been awhile. There’s a reason. The last week or so has been... a week. jesus christ. I shall regale you of my tale, not in chronological order necessarily because that’s how I roll. BUT if you suffer through it, you shall be rewarded with an outdoor plant update post after. Bribery. 

So. Early last week, The Spawn sat down with me and presented a proposal, a well researched proposal, advocating for her starting her own residential cleaning business because she finds it incredibly satisfying and relaxing to clean stuff and she does quite well. So we sat and brainstormed, researched, and talked about how she planned to advertise. She needed a business gmail (and all the tools that come with that), logo, business social media, website, and flyers. 

Being her age, she doesn’t have the skill or knowledge to do these things. So, I volunteered to help with these things so that she didn’t have to spend money hiring someone. I created the email account, put all the brainstorm stuff into a google doc that saved to the biz drive, which included a to do list and the basic info needed. I created a logo. (At which point, she called me a wizard while watching me do so.) I helped her try to create a biz facebook account, but facebook immediately flagged it as breaking the rules. like literally as soon as I created it. So I appealed it & The Spawn wanted to wait to see what came of that before I went further. So she took me with her to shop for the things on her supply list, and we decided to go grab some of the smaller stuff still needed for J’s appt at the same time. This was Friday. 

Saturday, I got a text from J in the early afternoon saying that he needed me. I quickly packed a ‘just in case’ bag, since I didn’t know what to expect or how long I would be there. Now, you have to understand that in the 7 years we’ve been friends, while he has discussed things with me via phone or text, in person he is like me, incredibly stoic. Hell even via text or phone, he always insists that he’s fine and responds to my reminders that i’m here if he needs someone, and to just let me know, he responds “I appreciate it, but I won’t”. So him reaching out like that is a MASSIVE thing. I showed up, let myself in, and he just walked up to me, wrapped his arms around me and started sobbing. I stayed the night, alternating between being comforting and being distracting. It was extremely disarming to see such raw emotion from him repeatedly over the course of the night and to hear him say the things that he is usually uncomfortable articulating. 

The next morning he seemed better, thanked me for coming (to which I responded “Of course I came. I’ve not ever been lying when I’ve said that I’d come if you needed me, day or night, but you have to let me know.”) and apologized for ‘being a mess’. I told him every time he apologized (which happened quite a bit over the course of the night) that there was no need for an apology because this wasn’t something to be sorry for. He was struggling, as people do, and rather than embrace the darkness or fight it alone, he asked for help from someone he trusts and loves that he knows reciprocates. That i know how hard it is for him to do that and that I am proud of him. 

Sunday afternoon the kids (The Spawn and The Bf) picked me up because she needed to take him home but didn’t want to leave the dogs alone. I got in the car after The Bf got into the back, insisting I take the front seat. We hadn’t even gotten out of the parking lot of the apartment complex when The Spawn casually asked “So are ya’ll fucking?” 

that’s how I learned that I was the subject of a bet. Apparently, The Bf asked where I was when he came over and out of convenience, not wanting to really explain the relationship, The Spawn said I was at my boyfriend’s. I guess he went on about how how come I’m never hanging out with him, etc, so The Spawn explained the actual nature of our relationship. At the end The Bf said “Nah, they fuckin’ but your mom isn’t telling you.” The Spawn said, “No, she’d tell me because when I started high school I asked her about her past encounters and asked about what stuff was, if she’d done it, and if she enjoyed it, and she was always honest with me. That’s how I know she likes it up the butt.” He insisted that J and I were banging so The Spawn, knowing the truth, took advantage of this and made a bet. It was an easy win for her. SO...

I get asked this question & I look at her, eyebrows raised because she knows how our relationship is (granted if I were physically able and he was willing, I would definitely jump back up on that horse) and said, “No. Mom is no longer physically capable of fucking without risk of severe injury. Plus, despite having ridden that horse previously, I’m not into endangering our besties status. I would go into further detail and commentary but I don’t want to make The Bf uncomfortable. These are things you know, so why do you ask?” She told me of the bet, Then i promptly text J about it because I knew he’d get a laugh out of it. And I was right. 

By the end of Sunday, she recieved an email stating that facebook was upholding the ban, so she and I talked and decided to make a webpage via WIX and after getting a few clients, she could upgrade her account with them to get extras that are offered, including her own domain (rather than the name.wix address) and a lack of wix ads on her page.  And then it all went downhill from there.

Monday through Wednesday (yesterday) had The Spawn breathing down my neck more than any boss I’ve ever fucking had about when her business shit would be done. On top of what I’d already done, between Monday and Wednesday I:   set up her google voice account for a business number, wrote her a “first time client” script, created a google sheets quick reference client database, created a google forms for detailed client records (all in a folder together that is searchable by client name, which would be the title of the form), set up the calendar, downloaded and edited/collaged her before and after photos she took via cleaning some of our spaces, and built her a 7 page website including the photos, facts, and little blurbs that go along with it. It went live at the end of yesterday. 

Throughout this process, rather than just checking in and thanking me for doing it all to save her money, she asked me every couple hours what still needed to be done. When I was not as far along as she felt I should be, she got progressively more hostile. Yesterday morning she had the balls to text me “What all do we still need to do before I can get rolling?” I responded with “ ‘We’? hahahahaha *I* still need to [list].” 

I’m sure you’re saying to yourself, “Am I missing something? Did you forget to list something in the list of stuff you did between Monday and Wednesday? You mentioned flyers....” You are correct. But yesterday while I was being driven to my 2nd vax appointment by my father, I basically told him that I’m fried. If a flyer just included facts, I’d be fine, but the part where I need the potential customers to be drawn in and want to learn more is not happening. The creative well has run dry to the point that it is reminiscent of the dust bowl. And I reminded him that there is a reason I no longer do this type of shit for a living. I mentioned that thinking about The Spawn’s company is making me stress puke and that any time The Spawn approaches me to talk about anything, I immediately feel incredibly nauseated. 

Now it should be noted that when I mentioned this in a multi paragraph text earlier, he responded with “Just take a step back from it for awhile, then go back to it.”    

and everyone wonders why on earth I don’t speak up when I hit my limits and why I just push onward despite the damage it does to me. THIS. THIS IS WHY. Everyone is all for me not pushing myself too hard... until it is inconvenient for them. So I basically screamed in the car. On the way back he said he’d help. Ok. cool. 

Except that every fucking idea he had legit just tripled the amount of work I was going to have to do. I mentioned being burned enough that I was considering just paying a freelancer to do it. This motherfucker chimes in with “Oh! [Cool Ex Employee Who Left to be a Stay at Home Mom with her First Baby] does stuff like that. Let me reach out to see if she’d be willing to.” BRUH. That should have been the first thing out of your mouth after my original texts! Jesus Christ. I agreed but with the caveat that HE had to tell The Spawn and say it was his idea because he sees me getting overly stressed and has put his foot down. And he had to do it that night because I knew that if he didn’t, the first thing I’d hear today was “So when are my flyers going to be done?” and I am absolutely not dealing with that shit. The only thing I am doing from this point forward is showing her how to use her database/client files/calendar and I will be happy to answer questions or give advice, but that’s it. This isn’t my company and I’m not employed by her, so I’ve already put in far more work than should have been expected of me, with very little thanks outside of after I finished her logo and a couple times she came down and watched, then told me I’m a fucking wizard. 

Really It was good in a way because I had been doing that thing lately where I wonder if I’m just being dramatic because admin type stuff isn’t that hard and if I could do it from home, I should be able to manage... but this put me back down on earth, where I absolutely am not being dramatic and I cannot fucking do that shit 40 hrs a week for some random asshole. Shit, this was for my own child and I was ready to give up, stab her, then tell her to go fuck herself.

so...that’s been my last week and a half for so. Also, my only side effects from Vax 2 (pfizer) is feeling more tired/run down than usual and a bit of extra joint pain... but those might actually be related to the stress and hell I just went through. who knows. 

as always, don’t steal my shitshow. get your own shitshow. suffer through your own crap. 

[if-found-return-to-gusu]

It was a normal day up until then. Summer was slowly fading into Autumn but it was still hot. The cicadas were making their final screams of the season and the air was stiff with the last dregs of August. 

 I’d gone to the skate park to let off some steam. I don’t remember what had happened. Something had pissed me off so I’d been out there for a while.

Skateboarding… It helps calm my soul. Something about the rush of air. The feel of the board vibrating beneath my feet. Separate but connected. Something I could control but not entirely. 

Even when I fall I don’t mind. Every scrape and bruise is earned. And through them I learn. 

I wonder… do I only know how to learn through pain? 

I didn’t really get much relaxation this time around though because that Jin bastard was there. Lording it over the place like he owned it. 

Well he sorta did. Or well, his family did. Not on paper or anything but they’d donated a SHITTON of money to the Rec Center that ran the place so they may as well have owned it. 

The skate park is only a small part of the compound. There’s lots of stuff to do there. Some of it you need a membership for but the skate park and a lot of other things are free to the public. 

Captain Constipation didn’t start showing up at the park until after I did. I know that because the others there told me as much. They said he used to come once upon a time but sucked at it so he claimed it was for lowlifes anyway and never came back. 

I don’t know if he was practicing in secret and just came back now that he knows how to board a bit better or if he actually just came to piss me off. 

Not sure. Don’t really care. I just know that the days he’s there I’d rather be anywhere else. 

Well that day he’d decided to pick a fight. Who knows why? Maybe the stars were in the right position. Maybe he sat down too fast and the stick up his ass got shoved even further in. 

I don’t know. 

Well I didn’t see him coming in time so he caught me off guard. He had a few other thugs with him. Roughed me up a bit but I’ve never had a fight I couldn’t win.  Well, okay they won once but that was only because of the knife. 

There was actually a bit of news coverage about that one though so I don't think he dared bring a knife again. The guy who actually stabbed me is still in jail I think but the guys who held me down still play flunky so I got a bit of revenge that day. Preeetttyyy sure I knocked out a tooth from the big one.

I remember cleaning myself up in the bathroom quick before I left. I guess that’s when they must have fucked with my board. I was on my way home when the wheel gave out. Came clean off the board. I was just cursing my luck, hoping that I at least wasn’t about to fall into the street when instead of kissing pavement I fell into something large and soft. 

Someone caught me. Someone tall and strong. They’d barely even staggered. 

I remember looking up and thinking that I must have rolled into the street after all and finally kicked the bucket because the person holding me could only be an angel. 

Sometimes I still think that. 

What else could Lan Zhan be but an angel? 

Apparently he’d been wandering around town for a while and happened to be there when he saw me fall. Caught me like I weighed nothing at all. 

After a moment of me staring stupidly at his face he cleared his throat and set me back on my feet.

Embarrassing. 

I thanked him and thanked him and thanked him. Insisted he let me treat him to ice cream to pay him back for saving me. The least I could do for my romantic handsome hero. 

He agreed but I kinda thought it was rather reluctantly. I thought he was probably only humoring me but since he said yes I was already in. 

Kinda selfish, but I was happy for the excuse to be able to look at him for longer so I wasn’t gonna back out even if he was just humoring me. 

I was fortunately able to find the wheel that had fallen off my board. Looks like it was just a loose screw and easy to repair. And a lesson not to leave my board unattended… ever.

I took him to this cute little ice cream parlor that I really love. It’s not too expensive but it’s cute and the ice cream is delicious. I was kinda hoping it’d be cute enough to get him to want to see me again but aah wishful thinking am I right? Just one of those idle fantasies that plays in your head. 

I tell him to get whatever he wants! The least I could do for my savior!

Except.

Par for the course.

My wallet was gone. 

Those assholes must have stolen it sometime during the fight. 

Just 

The whole wallet

Actually

The whole damn pocket.

Somehow I hadn’t noticed

(did thank whatever deity there was in the world that it had ripped clean and did NOT end up with me showing my boxers to the world that entire time. 

Lan Zhan paid. 

I’m still so ashamed. What kind of reward is this? I make him indulge me to buy him ice cream that HE then has to pay for?????

He said he didn’t mind. That it was fine. 

I don’t know. 

I felt so bad (still do tbh.) 

And in a moment of absolute idiotic inspiration

I asked him for his number. 

Just blurted it out. 

I wanted to be able to pay him back again. For real. So when I got paid again I could really thank him. And I told him it would be something better than ice cream. Wherever he wanted to go. 

He stared at me. At the time it was pretty intimidating. That stare. It was like standing at the doors to the afterlife waiting to be judged. 

So strange.. Now there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to feel those eyes on me again. It doesn’t matter the reason or the expression. If he looks at me it means he knows I exist. It means I occupy at least some part of his mind. 

He sees me. So I exist.

I know how crazy that sounds. I do. And it’s not like I don’t exist if he’s NOT looking at me it’s just…

I don’t know how to explain it. 

The world feels more real when I know he sees it too. I don’t know. 

I don’t know.

Anyway. He agreed after a while. I still can’t believe it. But he agreed. 

And…. well I know he told me his name, but I already told you how I was with names. I’d forgotten. 

Though this time I think it was because of all that had already happened that day. Or maybe because I couldn’t dare believe someone so beautiful would be staying in my life. 

I don’t know.

But that’s why he’s in my phone as “Ice Cream Hottie”. Because I couldn’t remember his name. 

I’m terrible. 

I called him anyway when I got paid. I was determined to hold up my end of the deal. 

He sounded as surprised to have gotten a call from me as I had been that he’d actually answered!

And beyond that he agreed to meet me for dinner!

After that we started texting. Slow at first but then more regularly.

And then he told me about his cafe and invited me to come see. (heard MianMian say his name which let me save some face.) ((Though after I called him Lan Wangji he told me I could call him Lan Zhan. I didn’t really know it at the time but that was really important. He doesn’t let a lot of people call him that. ))

The rest is history. 

I don’t know when I fell for him. It could have been instantly. 

I know it took me a long time to recognize it for what it was. 

I know what it is now. 

I won’t forget. Not his name. Not a single thing he says to me. I’ll hold each word. Each action. Each moment he looks at me. I’ll carve them into my heart for safekeeping. For comfort in the cold quiet that I can’t stand. He’ll keep me company even when he’s not there. 

Even if I never share a similar space in his heart. 

It’s okay.

Even if he never loves me like I love him. 

It’s okay. 

I already have more than I ever could have dared to ask for just for being allowed near him. Just knowing he considers me a friend. 

It’s okay. 

[thebladeblaster]

Pokémon: the Dark Circuit (aka Vanguard Descends season 2)

Chapter 4 The Calm Before the Storm

Aichi’s current team

Level 79 Wingal (Lycanroc (dusk)) rock

Moves:

Stealth rock

Crunch

Stone edge

Play rough

Level 77 Llew (Golisopod) water/bug

Moves:

Sucker punch

Blizzard

Liquidation

First impression

Level 78 Gancelot (Lucario) fighting/steel

Moves:

Focus blast

Stone edge

Meteor mash

Dragon pulse

Level 85 Soul Saver (Haxorus) dragon

Moves:

Outrage

Iron tail

Dragon dance

Scale shot

Level 100 Alfred (Aegislash) ghost/steel

Moves:

Sacred sword

King’s shield

Iron head

Shadow Claw

In Sanctuary town…

Some students sat around their desks chatting at Hitsue Middle. The residents of Sanctuary town recently returned. Thankfully there wasn’t much damage to the buildings in the town. Morikawa sat back in his chair with his feet on the desk.

“I wonder where Sendou is?”, one of the students murmured.

“Who knows.”, another replied.

“I heard a rumor that he has powers just like Suzugamori Ren’s.”, another whispered.

“Yeah, I heard he could also understand Pokémon and did you see when Sendou fought those dynamaxed Pokémon?”, a different student added.

“What if he’s been in cahoots with him this whole time?”, one of them asked.

“Hmph. Aren’t the same flies that were buzzing around him not too long ago, telling him how cool he is. Now the second he’s gone their trashing him like this. These guys were just trying to lick his boots to get in his good graces.”, Morikawa thought.

“Why would he beat him them?”, the other questioned.

“I don’t know, but Sendou looks an awful lot like Gin Gaillard. What if it’s some big conspiracy?”, one of them replied.

“Your right! They look almost exactly like except their hair and age!”, a different student replied.

They all jumped as they suddenly heard the loud slamming of a book against the desk.

“Ahem!”, Mark called out, to gain his students attention for their class about to start.

“Before we start I must inform you that Sendou Aichi won’t be with us today. Also, it's not very nice to talk about your classmate behind their backs.”, Mark added.

“Ah, sorry!”, they hastily apologized as a unit with no sense of individuality.

(Speaking of Aichi..) In Alola…

“Maximillion Pegasus?”, Aichi questioned, having no idea who that was.

“Golisopod! Golisopod! Golisopod! Golisopod! Golisopod! Golisopod! Golisopod! Golisopod! (Don’t worry if these suits try any funny business we’ll just beat them up!)”, Llew assured, cupping his ‘fist’ with his claw.

“I guess so...why is he letting us in exactly?”, Aichi asked.

“No idea. I’m just following orders.”, the suited man with really pointy hair replied.

“Alright.”, Aichi nodded, still keeping his guard up as he started to follow one of the suited men in.

“So, who is Maximilion Pegasus exactly?”, Aichi asked.

“He’s a very wealthy businessman. He’s always had quite the interest in Pokémon battling especially after his trip to Kairos region. He’s held several Pokémon battle tournaments including the private Trainers Kingdom tournament which was held here in Alola. That’s what this castle was originally built for.”, the suited man explained.

“Kairos huh...Didn’t Pokémon battling originate there?”, Aichi asked.

“Yes, the sport of Pokémon battling as we know it originated from that region many millennia ago.”, the suited man replied.

They stopped before a door which the suited man opened. Aichi’s Pokémon kept very close to him preparing themselves for any sort of attack. They saw the back of a revolving chair. They could see someone holding a wine glass. With a swift kick the chair spun around and they could fully see the man sitting in it. He had long straight silver hair which covered one of his eyes. His eyes were brown and he wore a flamboyant red suit with red pants and white shoes.

“Hello, what brings you to the wonderful region of Alola? I am Maximillion Pegasus.”, Pegasus greeted.

“Haxorus. Haxorus. Haxorus. Haxorus. (I wouldn’t call the locals wonderful.)”, Soul Saver said.

Aichi’s eyes widened in disbelief and let out a startled gasp at Soul Saver’s sass.

“Soul Saver! That’s rude!”, Aichi blurted out, briefly forgetting that other people can’t understand Pokémon.

“Lucario! Lucario! Lucario! Lucario! Lucario! (Soul Saver! Wingal and Llew are native to Alola!)”, Gancelot hastily informed him.

“Hax...Haxorus. (Ooh...sorry guys.)”, Soul Saver apologized.

“Golisopod. Golisopod. Golisopod. Golisopod. Golisopod. Golisopod. Golisopod. Golisopod. Golisopod. Golisopod. Golisopod. Golisopod. (It’s fine I’ve never been here before anyway and I have to agree a lot of the Pokémon here aren’t nice. Besides, I was born in Kakusa.)”, Llew replied.

“Lycanroc. Lycanroc. Lycanroc. Lycanroc. Lycanroc. Lycanroc. Lycanroc. Lycanroc. Lycanroc. Lycanroc. Lycanroc. Lycanroc. Lycanroc. Lycanroc. Lycanroc. Lycanroc. Lycanroc. Lycanroc. (Yeah, I don’t care. What Llew said a lot of the mon here are jerks anyway. They try to suck out your life essence or hug you to death or gush out poisonous gases with no regards to others or eject their organs at you. That’s why I left.)”, Wingal added.

They minus Pegasus and the suited man looked stunned at what Wingal told them. The suited man looked rather confused wondering why Aichi was talking to his Pokémon. Pegasus simply chuckled at this and Aichi looked rather embarrassed.

“How very amusing. The way you talk to your Pokémon. I met a person once who could really understand them. I wonder if your the same way.”, Pegasus said as Aichi flinched.

“Who was it?”, Aichi asked.

“I was at a rather fancy party in Johto when I met them. He was a bit younger than you and rather unruly. Way too much arrogance for his own good. For some weird reason he referred to himself as a number though he gave me a second name to make it easier. His other name was Christopher Lo.”, Pegasus answered.

“Christopher Lo”, Aichi muttered.

Lo definitely sounded strangely familiar to him like Ren’s name did. He tried to search his memory for that name. Slowly over time pieces of his past in Galar had been returning to him. So far he was mostly remembering the moments he had with Oliver. Perhaps it was triggered back when his mother mentioned him? After all he didn’t remember 002f.

…

Aichi struggled a bit before he suddenly had a brief flashback.

Flashback…

“I don’t see much of a reason to create another Psyqualia user.”, Gin replied, boredly to someone.

One of the men had short desaturated pink hair and blue eyes. He wore glasses and a green suit with a red A. He had a name tag that said Jonathan Lo. The other man who was with them was Ryuzu. 003v looked up a bit curious about what they were talking about.

“Another one. Dad’s right we don’t need another one. I’m all we need.”, 003v thought.

“Well, Jonathan here has contributed about as much as Katsuki and Triton so why not?”, Ryuzu replied.

“You say that as if their just rewards. I don’t think we should have too many. If we had a large number a few might get some unsavory ideas.”, Gin replied.

“I’m not saying we’ll make a bunch. It’s just one more.”, Ryuzu replied as Gin narrowed his eyes.

“I’m not sure...I’ll have to think about it.”, Gin replied.

Flashback end

“Jonathan Lo...that’s his father right?”, Aichi asked.

“Oh you know him?”, Pegasus asked.

“So, they went through with it didn’t they…why! Why! How could he allow another to be made! Doesn’t he believe in me! I can fulfill father’s ambition on my own!”, Aichi thought.

He felt a weird feeling in his chest that he tried to push down. Part of him felt a bit outraged that they felt the need to make another one after him. Like a wounded pride. It felt like the more he remembered the more 003v’s thoughts and feelings started to blend into his own. Aichi blinked, shaking his head to snap out of it.

“No! I’m not him! Why does this keep happening? I don’t want to help my father with his twisted ambition!”, Aichi thought.

“Don’t we though? Can you really resist it when it’s hard coded into your brain?”, Aichi flinched confused, were those his thoughts? Or 003v? He wasn’t sure and it was worrying him.

Soul Saver, Gancelot, and Alfred looked rather worried. Soul Saver could feel his emotions through the link. Gancelot could read his aura so he knew exactly what he was thinking and feeling. Alfred being the wise old ghost he was he knew how to read people well. Wingal and Llew were a bit confused and concerned by Aichi’s strange behavior.

“...Kind of...I think I’ve met his father before.”, Aichi replied simply.

“Something seems to be troubling you ah…”, Pegasus trailed off awkwardly, pretending not to know his name.

“O-oh! I forgot to introduce myself! I’m so sorry. My name is Sendou Aichi. I am from Kakusa. As for how I ended up here it’s kind of a weird story…”, Aichi replied sheepishly.

“Ah, I love stories!”, Pegasus replied.

“Oh...okay well…”, Aichi replied as he started to recount when he met Leon and him getting hit by a tsunami.

In Kanto…

“He’s at that Pegasus jerk’s doorstep!”, Honda said.

“Pegasus? You mean like the business man?”, Misaki questioned confusedly.

“It’s...a long story.”, Yugi replied.

“He stole Yugs gramps soul!”, Jonouchi blurted out and Anzu face palmed.

“Say what?”, Kourin questioned.

“Oh Arceus…”, Anzu groaned.

“And he got better!”, Honda added.

The Kakusans looked at the Kantonians like they were insane minus Kai.

“Uhh...well you see it all started when I got this weird video and somehow I battled Pegasus on the video…”, Yugi started.

“How did you battle a video?”, Kamui questioned.

“Magic!”, Jonouchi replied, like that explained everything.

“Anyway there was a time limit, it ran out and he took my grandpa’s soul and forced me to battle in his tournament…”, Yugi continued as Misaki and Kourin looked at each other with the ‘these people are crazy look’.

“Then you know I participated with Jonouchi and I beat Pegasus and won my grandpa's soul back.”, Yugi finished.

“I know it sounds like they're clinically insane, but it’s actually true.”, Kai said.

“Sure...whatever you say Kai.”, Misaki replied.

“So, we have to get to Alola!”, Yugi said.

“Alright. Let’s go.”, Misaki replied.

In Galar…

Oliver looked determined as he got the back of his Garchomp. With him on their Pokémon was the tall brown haired teen, the short dark skinned girl, both from before and Raul. The tall teen had a Corviknight. The dark skinned girl had a Mismagius. Raul had a Hydreigon. He wasted no time flying towards Alola full speed while the others tried to catch up.

“He really can’t wait to meet 003v can’t he?”, the dark skinned girl questioned jokingly.

“Oliver, wait up! Oh whatever...you want to make this a race Oliver? I’m going to win!”, the tall teen yelled.

“Oliver. Neve. Ah...those two and their rivalry…”, Raul sighed face palming a bit.

The tall teen was now known as Neve. Raul and the dark skinned followed after the two who were going rather fast.

In Kanto…

They had gotten to the boat they had arrived in and were now setting course to the Alola region. Yami looked over in the direction of the Johto region with a concerned expression. Yami closed his eyes looking away.

“Yami?”, Yugi questioned.

“I’m just worried about 004a attacking, but with their friend we should be able to stop him.”, Yami replied.

“Don’t worry about it too much. We won’t be gone for long. And once we’re back we’ll be able to stop him once and for all.”, Yugi assured and Yami nodded in response.

“Hey just in case we should avoid getting as close to Johto as possible. It’s been occupied by Team Asteroid.”, Yugi warned, the Kakusans.

Thus the race to find Aichi began between our heroes and Team Asteroid.

In Johto…

A boy around Kamui’s age yawned. He had desaturated pink hair in a ponytail and blue eyes. He wore a green Teddiursa hoodie and jeans. He sat on a throne, his feet rested on a trembling person bent over.

“Your shaking is getting quite annoying foot rest.”, the boy said in an annoyed tone.

“S-sorry!”, the poor person being used as a footrest hastily apologized.

The poor guy was covered in sweat with his heart beating loudly against his chest.

“Footrests don’t talk. You stupid Caterpies keep forgetting that.”, the boy replied as the guy shook more in fear.

The boy showed no empathy to the man’s frightened expression. The man let out a pained whine as he was surrounded in gold aura and was forced to uncomfortably fold his limbs. He felt extremely uncomfortable as his face was pressed against the ground and he was folded unnaturally into more of a foot rest position. Bits of drool leaked from the guy’s mouth as he tried to hold in another whine. The boy looked down still rather unamused and dissatisfied. Loud cracking sounds could be heard as the man yelped in pain. Though all you could really see was his hands in foot in awkward positions and the boy sitting there with an unfazed expression.

“Hmm...that guy is leaving? Why? Maybe I should burn down that little town. Nah, that would be lame without him there to try and stop me. Maybe I could inconvenience him?”, the boy thought.

The boy had a dark expression as he held out a master ball. All of the citizens turned servants flinched as they saw the master ball. He jumped off his chair making sure to land on his human foot rest before walking forward. The servants had rather horrified looks and reluctantly went back to their labor.

In Alola…

“Wow! It sounds like you experienced something like something out of an old story! Well, you are welcomed to stay here for now Aichi-boy. You look like you need to wash up anyway.”, Pegasus said.

Aichi looked rather embarrassed when he mentioned washing up. Yeah, with how much he was sweating under Alola’s searing sun he needs a bath. He was still a bit cautious, but the offer sounded rather alluring. He looked down at Wingal. All of his Pokémon were hurt by the tsunami, but Wingal had it the worst. He needed help quickly or...he didn’t even want to think about the or.

[violetsystems]

#personal

Because of the Internet, cycles of things don’t really follow the same pattern as the older generation is used to.  They think they know obviously.  Their favorite game is called human capital and we are the pawns, bishops and knights on the chessboard for them to sacrifice.  I’m forced to read a lot of financial opinions as an outsider.  For somebody in the aforementioned camp, Mario Gabelli had at least acknowledged that the Fortnite generation has been slowly growing up.  Apps like Robinhood have opened the market up to steal your hard earned pennies.  And then accounts get hacked, money gets stolen, and the older generation laughs and shakes it’s head.  You stupid kids and your lack of motivation.  If you didn’t spend all your time living your life instead of making us money.  I think he forgets like most boomers do that there’s an entire generation after them that was born and bred on Tron.  I didn’t land into the stock market after playing Call of Duty with my bros to be honest.  I melted down a twenty year pension from a place of employment that ghosted, derezzed and ignored my entire identity.  Other people might have traded online through simulations, harvested their bitcoin at the behest of their electric bill or just have rich parents,  I’m not like other people.  We all have figured this out after how many years of writing these to an invisible tribunal of amazing people.  I often read these other perspectives about the financial industry controlled by pundits, investors, and people who generally talk down to the little person like me.  We are what people refer to as “the retail investor.”  We’re written about like the plague mostly because nobody can really control our strategies or bully us into submission.  Much of the idea of retirement is hinged on investments in America.  Social Security is about to run out at some point.  My generation will probably be the first to see my government stiff the bill and run away.  Corporations and working for them at times can be a whirlwind of interconnected dots.  Money and loss on paper becomes a zero sum shell game for the rich.  It’s not about the work you do.  It’s about the money you spend for them.  Donald Trump took a loss for almost two decades which is incidentally how long I was gainfully employed.  A typical artist in America can take a hobby loss for up to five years.  The same artists with no healthcare to speak of.  The fiscal cliff that we all dread is nowhere reflected in the markets.  Neither is the actual driving force behind their profit.  America is a consumer based economy and America is simultaneously shrinking and bursting at the seams.  These are all stitched together by a frail, aging ideology that doesn’t want to let go.  Generation X’ers like myself are used to being forgotten about.  I travelled the world looking for someone to look at me as more than a number.  And now people follow me around because I’m a name on their company registry.  But nobody really ever speaks to me directly.  I’m a dataset and a demographic that only speaks as a number on paper.  Until I do things that the financial elite can’t stand.  I make a decision that is based on things they don’t value.  I choose to put my money elsewhere.  And this is why people hate us.  Because you can’t speculate on chaos that you do not control.  And America is simply profit off of speculation which is a value amounted to 20.83 trillion dollars in debt.  Which doesn’t sound much like it’s in control of anything except printing money.

I grew up on computers.  My mother helped me start my first bulletin board system.  I had my very first phone line in my bedroom around the time wargames came out.  I used to post the number on boards before I had even set up a system like Telegard.  I would advertise it like a mysterious military site out of a Gibson book.  People would call and the modem would pick up the carrier tone and dump them to a blank monochrome screen.  From there my twelve year old self would punk people into thinking I was an AI.  Years later I found a twenty year career in Information Technology in the Arts which abandoned me in a wholly disturbing way.  My knowledge of computers still stayed and those skills kept me alive in these times.  I grew up playing games because I had no friends and suffered horrible bullying.  I was an only child who was ridiculously intelligent but often quiet and ignored.  Years later it’s not so much different.  The bullying is still out there.  America rewards the loud and the forthcoming mostly because it is too lazy to seek out the nuances.  Convenience has warped America’s attention span beyond the regular flow of time.  Computers and connection over the years have rapidly accelerated the dominance of these ideals.  Jobs exist all over the world these days.  Most of the ones I’ve been interested in have been in China.  But due to the circumstances of my situation, I was forced to take a larger sum of income this year than I would have liked.  Sounds terrible right?  No shortage of people trying to scam me into spending it.  Any further income accrued this year becomes taxed horribly.  Ironically, the Illinois fair tax law changes the game even further as retirement income was not taxed before the amendment.  If passed, any retirement income that was not with held will be owed.  Another round of layoffs to liquidate pensions from the bottom line in cities like ours will definitely affect people worse than me down the road.  I’ve been stumbling through the process alone since the end of July.  A lot of what I had done was to part out and budget money in my own way playing a waiting game that I’ve grown used to in my life.  I am at the peak of stagnancy at the moment.  Staring out at another blank screen typing into the void every week while people lift bits and pieces for their own convenient narrative of me and my value in human capital.  Headhunters no longer stalk the internet.  They follow you around in the street with forced intimidation expecting you to read into what they think you deserve to spend the rest of your life doing.  All the while trying to wrap you up back into an ecosystem for less pay, shrinking benefits, and an economic ecosystem of investments of both human and monetary.  Debtors are paired with debtors.  Marriages are arranged for tax purposes and rich oligarchs with political ties find more ways to pay less.  And yet they never really understand the power of connection they do not have.  They don’t communicate.  They project.  They expect you to believe that we’re all in this together when they never hear a word you say.  The only time they listen is when you take your money away.  I’m single.  Never been married.  An only child.  And pretty much an exile on Wall Street with more liquidity and equity suddenly than most people in America.  And much like everyone paying more taxes to a government that has basically turned into a formulaic limp dick reality show.

A reality show that treats me like the Babadook at best these days.  I can’t even leave my house anymore without somebody following me or watching me.  I realize this might just be the hazards of my next pivot into global employment.   I thought these long forms of prose were enough of a background check for the FBI at this point.  It’s called “transparency and accountability” Scully.  I realize ethics aren’t a valuable skill in America.  But the utter lack of human emotion for my situation speaks volumes to me.  And it should be a wakeup call for most who live and work in this dangerous time.  They really don’t give a fuck about us in such a comedic way that they don’t realize our power.  Our power is confidence and they find ways to undermine it.  Tell you that you aren’t beautiful enough so that you spend more money on things you do not need.  Ignore and isolate you until you breakdown and ask for their help.  Until you treat yourself in bankruptcy so they can print more money.  These times are abusive at best in a way that I have never been prepared for.  But those on top don’t really understand how it feels to be under the thumb for years.  I do.  Corporations aren’t human and neither are most rich people.  I realize that life here is literally all about money.  Last night was a very good example of that when I read the news about a game I played shutting down.  I cried because it was the only thing connecting me to anything social without being overbearing and weird.  And I had invested a sizeable amount of my pension in the thought that this might keep the ecosystem alive.  The lesser of two evils of investing.  Put money where you think it will be used fairly and wisely.  Water the garden and watch it grow.  The amazon stock is literally over three grand per share.  They own everything.  They’ve shattered their profits due to the shift from COVID to delivery.  Small businesses shutter.  Hard artistic work is pissed to the wind.  And people like myself are left to wonder why the fuck Jeff Bezos needs any more money from me to treat me like a fucking lab rat.  These companies do not give a fuck about you as a person.  They want your money.  They want to leverage your image, your words, your narrative to push something that doesn’t benefit you at all.  There is no excuse for me to be invisible after all these years let alone from what happened to me in July.  And yet, there is no real way to get back at it.  Other than to completely divest from something that only hurts.  Capitalism is funny that way.  It desperately wants your participation to stay alive.  A two trillion dollar company like Apple cares only about the cut for their investors not the art that drives these bricks that become obsolete in two years.  The reason the old generation is contentious to us is that we see the scam in broad daylight.  We trolled you behind the scenes.  And when we learn the truth, it hurts.  We can always hurt back.  I divest.  I decouple.  I wonder what motivates me as a human being and not a bottom line for some rich fuck who got their way scamming people into thinking they’re worth less so they could have more.  The internet moves pretty fast.  It can all fall apart in a keystroke.  And these people will still be making excuses and not staring us point blank in the eye.  I’ll still be playing video games and you’ll still be investing in what you think you know about me.  Which last time I checked is jack shit other than the fact that it’s safe enough to plant a nuclear physicist under my apartment for a year without me knowing.  Shall we play a game?  See you at the opening bell Jeff!