#first time I'm putting my words out there and not in the tags
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bewitchabyss · 2 days ago
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— THE LOVE & DEEPSPACE MLS' NSFW HEADCANONS
PAIRING(S): rafayel + sylus + xavier + zayne x afab! reader
TAGS: bathroom sex + bondage + exhibitionism + fingering + marking + mirror sex + missionary sex + oral sex (cunnilingus) + riding + rough sex + sensory play + spanking + voice play
NOTES: the new set of cards is insane and you bet i'll be whipping out oneshots for them once they drop ;) anyway the grip that these cards have on me is insane, i'm on my knees frfr 🧎‍♀️
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— RAFAYEL | QI YU
oh sure, he will play nice at the beginning and let you have your way — he will let you do anything you want to him. that is, until you push him to a point where he's too riled up to sit back and pretend it does not affect him at all. that's when he will uno reverse you and put you in your place.
on some occasions, he likes holding your arms over your head and watch you squirm as he thrusts into you, completely at his mercy. other times, he enjoys the sensation of your nails scratching his back, leaving red marks across his shoulder blades. after all, it's proof that he made you feel good, right?
he lives to serve you and puts your needs first before his. he could eat you out and his dick could be throbbing and call it a night.
i assume ebb day works similar to a rut cycle, so he would get especially needy during this period. he would be rubbing himself all over you and would, quite literally, take you right there and then at his doorway the moment you walk into his studio. (have you had sex on his couch before? multiple times.)
he would always check in on you to make sure he didn't hurt you in any way. he could be biting you and leaving a whole trail of hickies down your neck, but once the high is over, he will look at your neck wide-eyed, run his fingers gently down your skin, and ask, "sorry cutie, did it hurt a lot?"
— SYLUS | QIN CHE
he is big on sensory play and particularly enjoys blindfolding you during sex. he claims it's because your senses are heightened when you are deprived of sight, but mayhaps it fuels his innate desires seeing you so helpless without being able to see. ("who's the hunter now, kitten?" he purrs as he licks your neck, eliciting a choked gasp from you.)
he particularly enjoys eating you out this way. he enjoys hearing the sounds you make when he goes down on you like this and he swears you're a lot more vocal when your sight is impaired.
when you take charge, he can be an absolute brat and enjoys teasing you to push you (and himself) to the limit. you can tie him up or spank him and he would still cock an eyebrow up, as if challenging you, "oh, was that it? we both know you can do more than that, sweetie."
there have been multiple occasions where an innocent (or is it?) shower together leads to bathroom sex. he will hoist you up with his arms and lean you against the shower wall, then push his dick inside you as you wrap your limbs around him and ask him to start moving.
he is very open to any ideas you have in the bedroom, but will draw the line at exhibitionism, because, in his words, "i'm a selfish man; i want to be the only one who sees you in that state."
— XAVIER | SHEN XINGHUI
he would 100% be into mirror sex. he would take you from the back while standing in front of a full length mirror, hand cupping your jaw and guiding your head to look at your reflection in the mirror, making you watch how you come completely undone under his touch.
he is also lowkey a freak and would be into exhibitionism, but he doesn't want to get caught (or does he?). he would fuck you with your chest pressed against the glass for the whole of linkon to see (a hundred floors up), hot breaths fanning across your ears, "do you want the whole city to see you unravel under me, hm?"
he enjoys marking you up, no matter who is in power. he enjoys leaving marks in places that are subtly visible so that 1) it's within your view when you look in the mirror and hopefully it reminds you of just how much of a space you have in his heart and 2) any good-for-nothing guy who tries making a move on you will see the mark and know that you already belong to someone else.
if you're inexperienced, he will guide your hands to the places that make him feel good. he will gently lead your hand towards his lower abdomen and whisper, "try here, honey."
he likes you being rough with him. you could be aggressively biting down on him and that would probably turn him on. ("harder, my love, i can take it," he says as you push a second digit into his twitching hole.)
— ZAYNE | LI SHEN
he is not very kinky per se, but simply enjoys being close to you. he wants his hands on you at all times, and in such moments, his lips. he wants you to know what effect you have on him and how much he needs you.
he enjoys missionary a lot. zayne is a traditional lover and wants to see your face during intimate moments like these. he wants to see your every reaction to every move he makes and wants to memorise the things that make you feel good. he is very diligent and dedicated like that.
he may or may not be into roleplay, and it doesn't matter who's in charge. he enjoys it either way, and all in all wants it to be an experience that both of you enjoy. however, he does let you initiate things first because he's afraid he might overstep some (unsaid) boundaries that you might have.
we all know he enjoys having you on his lap, riding him. there have been many a time where he has had you bounce on his dick late at night at the hospital when he has late night shifts (with the doors safely locked at zayne's behest, of course). you guys also have a rocking chair in the living room for the said riding purpose.
no matter the dynamic, he would always speak in that low, breathy voice of his (very similar to a boyfriend asmr, if you will) and it always makes you weak in the knees
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leighsartworks216 · 8 hours ago
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Sleep Schedule
Sylus x gn!Reader
My own worsening sleep schedule was the inspiration for this one I fear
Warnings: fluff, silly, pre-relationship or early relationship
Word Count: 513
Main Masterlist
First Love and Deepspace Masterlist
Second Love and Deepspace Masterlist
AO3
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"Shouldn't you be in bed by now, sweetie?"
You shrug, focusing on the cards in your hand to avoid looking him in the eye. "I'm just not tired yet, that's all." You slip a green six into a matching cup with a triumphant smile. "Your turn!"
Sylus shakes his head, but humors you. He lazily slips a card from his hand into a cup, a red five that gets doubled. "That's all?"
"Mhm! Just, you know, burning the midnight oil."
"It's almost two in the morning."
"Then I'm burning the 2am oil!"
"Sweetie." He sets his cards down with a stern glare. Your hand hovers over a white cup. "What are you doing?"
You glance down at your card. "Um, playing a blue three?"
He sighs, clearly unamused. "This is the third night in a row that you've stayed up far later than you should with no good reason. Why?"
"Oh..."
Caught red-handed.
You slowly finish putting the kitty in the cup. He crosses his arms, but says nothing, merely watching as you fiddle with your cards. You feel a lot like a child caught passing notes by a teacher, and now you're forced to read it aloud to the whole class. You'd much rather suffer a bullying session at the hands - or wings, rather - of Mephisto than admit your little scheme to Sylus. But you know he won't let it go until you do.
You sigh. You really can't look him in the eye now. "You're awake at night and I'm awake during the day, and I just- I wanted to be able to spend more time with you without forcing you to stay up in the daytime because I know the sun bothers you, so I maybe have been sort of changing my sleep schedule so we can hang out more."
The words come out of you in one long rush, but stopping at any moment would mean never saying it at all. And now that it's out there, floating in the dead space of the air, you can hear just how stupid it is. Wanting to hang out more is one thing, but changing your entire sleep schedule for, what, a few more hours with him? It's insane! It's absurd! It's dumb as hell.
And he hasn't said anything yet.
Your heart thumps painfully in your chest as you risk a glance up at him. He's wearing a smirk that's too soft to really be called that. And the look in his eyes mirrors it, staring at you with something so warm and tender. He quirks a brow at you, amused.
"Is that all, sweetie?" He chuckles at your bewildered expression. "If you wanted to spend more time with me, you only needed to ask. I never mind being in the sun if I'm with you."
Your heart skips uncomfortably. "Oh..."
Now that grin really does become a smirk. He lifts a card from his hand where it still rests face-down on the table, and deposits it in the final cup. "You win, kitten. Now let's get you to bed."
---
Tag List:
@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko 
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When What We Had Was Everything Pt. 2
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This is a three part fic series and will complete three of my @jacklesversebingo card spaces. This first part will fill the "You won't take care of yourself, so I will." square. Pt. 2 will fill the But We Lost It square. Pt. 3 will fill the They're Out of Time square. ❤️
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Summary: When Y/N really needs him, Jensen steps up, leaving all their past in the past. Can Y/N possibly do the same?
Pairing: Jensen x Reader (Y/N)
Warnings: Nothing major. Funeral. Brief mentions of grief and loss. Some light making out.
Word Count: 3, 935
A/N: This second part was a long time coming. I'm so sorry. I've just struggled with the muses on this one. I hope I can get part 3 (final part) out to you much sooner. I've given the reader's father the name, "Steven" just because it felt unnatural to not name him, and calling him something like, YFN felt strange given the setting.
Enjoy!
Jensen Ackles Master List || Main Master List || Tag Lists
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Everything with Jensen had been like a whirlwind. Surreal and beautiful, and seemingly built to crumble. 
She’d met him randomly in a parking garage when she was visiting friends in L.A. She’d accidentally locked herself out of her car, and he’d used his Dean Winchester skills to break into it for her.
Their attraction had been immediate and raging. They’d gone for drinks one night, gone to dinner the next, and then gone to bed before dessert. Sleeping with guys on a second date wasn’t usual for Y/N. In fact, before that, she’d never slept with anyone she wasn’t already in a relationship with. 
But Jensen had barely kissed her, simply moving his hard, gentle hands slowly down her hips and pulling her flush against him, before every rational thought she had immediately flew out of her head. He’d charmed her completely and she fell hard and fast.
It was unlike anything Y/N had ever experienced before. So, deep down, she’d had a very hard time trusting it. It scared her. He scared her. 
She loved him almost immediately and that didn’t feel real. Love at first sight was stupid and impossible. She loved him so easily that subconsciously she was always sure he was hiding things from her. It wasn't  possible that this good, beautiful, generous, talented guy was so completely into her; things like that didn't happen to boring girls in small towns. So she kept waiting for the other shoe to drop with him.
Josie said she sabotaged herself, but Y/N preferred to think of it as protecting herself. If she let herself think about a life with him, a life of passion, love, contentment, quiet luxury and maybe even a family, her heart would shatter when he finally woke up and walked away.
So she'd fought hard to keep her emotional distance from him. She was desperate to keep control of the situation.
That night, after seeing Jensen for the first time in almost six months, Y/N spent the night tossing and turning, running everything over in her mind. By the time the sun rose and she gave up on trying for more sleep, she came to the realization that trying to protect herself had failed miserably. Her heart had shattered anyway when things ended and he walked away. 
It was shattered still.
Having gotten even less sleep than the night before, Y/N rolled out of bed with a groan, and tried to put all of those memories and heartaches aside. There was a lot to do, and the day was going to be hard enough.
Putting feelings aside became impossible, however as she walked into the kitchen and saw Jensen sitting alone at the table, staring into a cup of coffee.
He looked up as she walked in, the surprise in his expression receding into a smile as he nodded towards the coffee pot on the counter. 
“I just made some. Hope you don't mind.”
Y/N smiled awkwardly and walked over to pour herself a cup. “No, of course not. Thank you. Today demands a lot of coffee and it demands it immediately.”
She blew on the steaming liquid as she sat down at the table, and then took a sip. She swallowed it quickly, however, burning her mouth and throat a little, as Jensen reached out to cover her empty hand with his. 
“How did you sleep?”
Y/N shook her head and pulled her hand away under the pretense of tucking her hair behind her ear.
“Not great, you know, but…” She ended with a shrug and Jensen nodded. 
“Yeah.”
She was quiet for a moment, and then smiled ruefully. “I feel like…I’m the oldest, so I'm supposed to know what to do for everything. I mean, I was fifteen when mom died, but Jo and David were just kids. They don't remember any of the details of what happened at her funeral.”
Jensen frowned. “Y/N, what do you mean, THEY were kids. You were a kid too.”
Y/N shrugged. “Sure, I guess. But they were barely double digits. I'm the one who should remember best, the way things went on the day. So, I keep thinking I should warn them about what to expect. But the truth is most of that day is a blur.”
Jensen leaned towards her across the table, catching  her gaze. “David and Josie are both grown adults, I'm sure they'll be okay. As okay as can be expected, anyway.”
Y/N nodded. “Yeah, I suppose, just…old habits, I guess.” She hummed softly. “You know one of the only things I remember really clearly about the day of mom's funeral?”
Jensen gave a gentle shake of his head. “What?”
“I remember being in the bathroom at the church, in one of the stalls, and I overheard two of my aunties talking. They didn't know I was in there, but I heard my Auntie Sheila crying and talking to my Auntie Debbie, saying, ‘How on earth is he supposed to take care of those kids all by himself?’ They both agreed that for a man who worked as much as he did, and traveled so much for his job, it was going to be impossible.”
Y/N chewed on her lip and stared down at her coffee. “I remember that conversation terrifying me. I had visions of being sent away to some boarding school or shuttled off to some relative in the countryside.”
She smiled sheepishly. “My Dad would never have done that, I realize now. And I probably just read too much C.S. Lewis as a kid. But it scared me enough that I determined then and there that Dad wouldn't raise us by himself. I was raised already, so I could step in and help raise Joey and Davie.”
Jensen shook his head. “I'm so sorry, sweetheart.”
Y/N waved dismissively. “No, it was fine. My Dad changed a lot of his work around so he could be here to take care of us. He was still our parent, and would sometimes have to remind me of that. He'd get after me to get a social life.”
She chuckled. “I think that was one of the reasons he adored you so much. You were the first guy I ever dated that I wasn't also mothering in some way. He used to tell me I needed to find a guy that wanted a partner, not a mother.”
Y/N stopped short as she realized what she was saying. Jensen was just so easy to talk to, she'd let her words fly away from her. She forgot that “past them” wasn't something they were supposed to be talking about.
She took another scalding sip of coffee and stood up. 
“Anyway, sorry for yammering. I should go get ready. And you might wanna steal a shower before the whole house is awake and all the hot water runs out.” She said with an attempt at a laugh.
Jensen looked like he was going to say something, so she quickly set her half full mug in the sink and took off as fast as her feet could carry her.
***
Jensen shifted slightly on the hard wooden pew, and breathed in the church smells around him, lemon furniture wax, old paper, and dust. It was a beautiful space with large stained glass windows and a lot of stone work and moldings.
He didn't know many of the people there. Y/N and her siblings were somewhere in the back rooms, likely going over where they'd be sitting and what was going to happen during the service.
He'd received a few odd looks from people who seemed to recognize him and then quickly dismiss the possibility that it was him. Thankfully no one had approached him.
As he sat waiting for the service to begin something caught his eye and he turned to see Y/N, half hidden behind a side door, and frantically waving him over.
Puzzled, he stood and scooched past the people at the end of the pew, walking quickly over to Y/N. Her eyes were frantic and panicked as she shut the door behind them. 
“I can't do it.” She said without preamble. “He says he can't, but I can't either! I can't! I don't know what to say!”
Jensen was desperately trying to decipher her words, but was hopelessly confused as she continued.
“I should have known he wouldn't. He said he wanted to; he literally told me I had to let him do it. I mean, he's kind of a writer, so of course I let him, but I should have known it would be too much. I mean, when he couldn't get it together enough to pick up Aunt Sheila at the airport yesterday, what fucking chance was there that he was gonna be able to write and deliver a eulogy!”
Jensen was starting to piece things together, and he felt his heart clench over Y/N's obvious fear and panic. He took her cheeks in his hands and tried to calm her.
“It's okay, baby. It's okay.” The endearment slipped out easily, just as it had when he'd first seen her the day before. “You're talking about David? He was supposed to deliver the eulogy.”
Y/N closed her eyes and nodded; the way she leaned into him a little made him wanna scoop her up and take her away from everything. But obviously, he couldn't do that, so he just confirmed his assumption.
“And now, he can't do it?”
She nodded again. “Can't do it, didn't write it.” She croaked out. “I have a packed church full of people, waiting to honor my father and I have absolutely nothing to say about him.”
Jensen took hold of her hands and squeezed them. “Of course you have things to say, sweetheart. Just say what comes into your heart.”
Y/N laughed without humor. “You should know better than anyone that I don't know how to do that.”
He felt his heart squeeze at the reminder of what happened the last time they'd had a discussion about what was in her heart. He saw the trepidation come back into her expression, just like earlier that morning, when the subject of their past popped up.
He shook his head, dislodging memories of hurt and disappointment. “You don't have to delve too deep. Just give a sweet anecdote or two, and talk about how much he was loved.”
Y/N’s eyes lit up. “You do it.”
Jensen shook his head. “What? No, I can't.”
But Y/N was nodding. “Sure you can. You speak on a stage for a living. You're good at telling sweet little anecdotes. Please, please, Jensen. I know it's too much. I know. But I l…I-” 
She cut herself off and let her forehead drop to his chest. “Please.” She whispered.
Jensen knew he was setting himself up for more pain later, but he couldn't stop himself from gathering her close and squeezing her tight against him. Her soft, warm, body felt so right and natural fitted along his that he let himself ignore the warning bells going off in his mind.
“Okay, baby.” He said softly, whispering against her sweet smelling hair before kissing the crown of her head. “Okay, I'll do it. You should come up and stand with me though so it looks less weird that some random stranger is speaking.”
Y/N nodded. “Thank you.”
Jensen didn't return to his spot in the crowd. Instead he sat beside Y/N in the front of church, holding her hand tightly since she refused to let go.
Soon enough, the minister announced there would be a slight change in the service and a ��friend of the family” was going to speak instead of David. 
David slouched in the pew beside Y/N and as they passed him to walk up on the dais, Jensen clamped a consoling hand on the young guy's shoulder. He knew the kid would be feeling like shit and there was no reason for it. Grief stole a lot of things from you sometimes, even your words. 
They walked behind the lectern and Jensen cleared his throat as he spoke into the slightly echoey microphone. Y/N clung to his right hand and pressed tight to his side as he spoke.
“Good afternoon everyone. On behalf of the family, I'd like to say how gratifying it is to see so many people here to mourn with us, but more importantly, celebrate with us as we honor Steven's life.”
He cleared his throat again and smiled. “Steven was a big guy who left a very big impression on the people he met. He was warm and welcoming in a way that you don't always see much these days.”
Jensen paused and then smiled. “Not long after I met him for the first time, I happened to mention that I was a big Stevie Ray Vaughan fan - just as part of an idle conversation, you know. But the next time I saw him, he had this vintage Austin Chronicle magazine with him on the cover, and he just gave it to me. It wasn't my birthday, or Christmas.”
Jensen shrugged. “He said he just happened to come across it in an old bookstore and thought of me.” He shook his head remembering how touched he'd been. “It was just the way he was.”
He let that sentiment dangle in the air for a moment before continuing. “Steven loved his family and friends without conditions and without limits. He had such strength of spirit, the kind of soul deep goodness that drew in all of us who are here today. He was a very easy guy to love and someone we always wanted on our side. Which he always was.”
Jensen cleared his throat. “So, once again, we want to thank you all for being here with us. And the family, and Steven's children especially, want to tell you how much it means to them. Thank you.” He finished.
He walked off the dais with Y/N following close and he could almost feel the way her muscles relaxed as they sat down. 
“Thank you.” She whispered quietly and Jensen squeezed her hand, ignoring his instinct to bring it to his lips.
***
Y/N breathed in the fresh, cool evening air, and sat down on the wide porch swing that looked out across her childhood backyard. Memories tumbled over themselves in her mind, all happy, but bearing the sharp taste of bittersweet nostalgia. 
She sighed and closed her eyes, letting a semblance of peace settle over her, as the stressful, painful day subsided somewhat now that the vast majority of guests had returned home. 
The back door opened and she looked over her shoulder and smiled.
Not all guests, she thought, as Jensen smiled back and quietly closed the door behind him. He leaned against it and thumbed towards the kitchen on the other side. 
“You know, you got enough casseroles in there to wait out the apocalypse.”
Y/N laughed softly and nodded. “Yeah, we'll have to split them between the three of us.” She shook her head. “I think most people have forgotten that none of us actually live here anymore.”
A thought occurred to her and her brow wrinkled. “Come to think of it, at some point, Josie, Davie and I are all gonna have to get together and figure out everything we need to sell this place.” 
She looked around her and felt a painful tug on her heart at the idea of leaving her home for real, for good. 
“God, I don't even know how to start with something like that.” Her mind began to swirl with worries and questions she needed to answer. But they stopped when Jensen took two steps over to the porch swing and picked up her hand. He gave it a squeeze as he sat beside her.
“But it's not something you have to worry about today, right? Or next week? Or even next month?”
Y/N started to argue but then realized he was right. That was tomorrow's worry.
Jensen nodded, happy as she relaxed against the back of the swing. He settled himself beside her and began to rock the swing slowly, pushing them back and forth with his feet planted on the old wooden porch.
Y/N felt the final knots in her stomach begin to ease as she listened to the fireflies start to buzz through the trees. She couldn't stop her head from dropping onto Jensen's shoulder, or the extended sigh that escaped her slightly parted lips.
Quiet reigned for a few minutes and Y/N allowed herself to bask in the peace for a while. Finally she broke the silence though, as she shifted slightly so she could look at Jensen.
“You know, I can't possibly repay you for everything you've done the last couple days.”
Jensen shook his head. “Well, it's a good thing repayment isn't necessary.”
Y/N smiled shyly. “Seriously, though, I wouldn't have made it through this without you.”
Jensen scoffed lightly and waved a dismissive hand. “Course you would’ve.”
She hummed softly. “Hmm, maybe, but certainly not in one piece.”
Jensen's smile turned rueful. “Well, you're very welcome, sweetheart.”
It was quiet for a moment more, but the air was more charged this time, something warm and inviting springing to life between them. 
Jensen cleared his throat and sat up a little, breaking their intense stare. “I think it's time I, I head out.”
Y/N felt her heart plummet. “I thought your flight was tomorrow.”
Jensen nodded. “Yeah, it is. But it's a pretty early one, and you know, it's an international flight; gotta get there so far ahead of time. So, I'm just gonna drive into Kingston tonight, get a room, and head out to the airport first thing.”
Y/N nodded calmly, but her heart was pumping loudly. “Or…or you can save yourself the hotel expense and just stay here one more night. I mean, you can head out from here early enough to make your flight. It just…you know, just makes more sense.”
Jensen shook his head. “No, that’s…” He cleared his throat and pulled away completely. “I don’t wanna put you all out for another night.”
He stood up to go, and Y/N panicked, jumping up after him and grabbing his hand. “You won’t be. I don’t…Jensen, I don’t want you to go.”
She watched the muscle jump in his jaw and felt her belly clench. She took a step closer so that she pressed against him and raised her hand to run gently over his close-cropped, silky beard. “Please don’t go.”
She raised up on tiptoe to press her mouth against his ever so briefly, but his lips were so soft and warm that she had to go back again, pressing tighter against the velvety pillows, and flicking her tongue out to taste them. 
Jensen groaned slightly and brought his hands up to cup her jaw, tilting his head to the right and deepening the kiss.
Y/N wanted to cry with joy as she wrapped her arms around his neck, breathing deeply through her nose and inhaling the intoxicating scent of Jensen’s cologne and the scent that seemed to linger in his skin all the time, something uniquely him, and devastatingly carnal.
Far too quickly Jensen let out a soft growl and pulled away abruptly. “Y/N.” He said breathlessly. “This isn’t a good idea. I can’t do this.”
Y/N shook her head and tried to pull him back, fists bunched in his black dress shirt. “No, Jensen, you don’t understand. I’m so sorry for the way things ended. I never should have let you leave. I should have let you in more. I shouldn’t have let what we had fade away like it did.”
Jensen was shaking his head. “Y/N, you don’t owe me any apologies. Really-”
“Yes, I do!” Y/N interrupted. “I should have trusted you more, trusted what we had. I…”
Jensen leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “Y/N, you’re only feeling this way because of what’s happened the last couple of days. I came to help out and you’re grateful. Your gratitude and your grief are clouding your judgement.”
“No.” Y/N said adamantly. “That’s not what’s happening. I’ve felt this way for a long time, I just haven’t had the courage to tell you.”
She saw Jensen waver for a moment and Y/N pressed her advantage, pulling his lips down to hers once again and pushing her fingers into his soft hair, easing it back at his temples. Jensen lost the battle again, this time with a much deeper groan of capitulation. He walked her backwards to press her against one of the wide pillars holding up the porch roof.
He panted faintly as his lips scorched a trail down the side of her neck. He unzipped her black dress on the side just far enough to slip his callused fingers inside, grazing the soft, delicate skin on the side of her breast. Y/N bit into her lip to keep from crying out and buried her face in his chest.
But once again Jensen pulled back, gentler this time, less abrupt. His fingers slid from her skin to zip her dress back up and he placed a final kiss to her temple before he stepped away, lifting a hand as Y/N tried to close the distance between them again.
“Y/N listen to me. You have no idea how much I want to believe you, that these feelings are just coming out of this complicated moment. But, not even six months ago, when I asked you to come live with me, the mere idea of going to the next level of our relationship made you break up with me.”
Y/N shook her head. “No, it wasn’t like that.”
But Jensen just kept talking. “Then you lost your dad and you reached out because a part of you knew I’d be here, that you could count on me. And I’m really glad you did, and I’m very glad I could help even a little.” He smiled gently. “But I’m not going to take advantage of your vulnerability and gratitude like this.”
Y/N opened her mouth to contradict him, but he just shook his head. “You can’t possibly know your feelings right now, sweetheart. They’re gonna be all jumbled up with everything else, including the goddamn raging fire that crops up between us every time we get close.”
His green eyes burned with heat and made Y/N ache with a passion she knew wasn’t going to be resolved. He was determined, and she knew that look of stubbornness all too well.
“I gotta go.” He said quietly and turned to go back in the house, but then turned back as he reached for the porch door. “Three months. Give yourself three months. To get a little distance, put things into perspective a bit. If in three months you still feel the same…well? You have my number. I’ll watch for you.”
He took three big strides back to where she stood and wrapped her up in his arms once again. He held her briefly, but very tightly before he kissed the top of her head.
“Take care, sweetheart.” He said quietly before walking briskly back through the doors.
Y/N’s eyes swam with tears, but her voice was resolute. “See you in three months.”
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@whimsyfinny @kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7 @nancymcl
@hobby27 @waywardcheshire @livya99 @k-slla @leigh70
@eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007 @roseblue373 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess
@avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @deangirl96 @stoneyggirl2
@fanfic-n-tabulous @traiitorjoe @lastcallatrockysbar @b3autyfuld1sast3r
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reevezs · 2 days ago
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//lots of end-of-the-year shouting in this post, sorry if it gets too loud, I'm screaming into a read-more pillow... mostly.
there would be no Zach, Eric, and Ria (and Ver lol) without ByeNYC so:
thanks @byenycfm , its lovely admins, and every single member of the group, I obv won't tag all of you on an indie blog but I LOVE YOU. you're all amazing and amazingly talented, I love your characters. I'm grateful for Ria and her beautiful skeleton bio, thanks for letting me take care of this bby. thank you for *the* brotp I'll never get over, thanks for two heartbreaking ships and three heartwarming ones, for all the crazy headcanons we've got there, whether it's chasing zombies with an RC car or pushing one out of the window or down the stairs... most importantly - thank you for promising you'd come back after the group's hiatus and for actually coming back. we've created a community we wanna return to and we all deserve the biggest hug for that. 💙
thanks for coming back @renegadetulisrp , Old Ass RPers know what's up lol. we've known each other for more than a decade, holy shit. I love you and your babies - don't ever change, add more muses, write more crazy plots, you're one of my favorite reasons I'll always log back here 💙
@pleinsdemuses my bb! I love you and our 1000 verses where we hurt our babies for the plot and hand them some Happy Verse cookies so they don't kill us. my angst, smut, drama partner in crime, I don't think we'll ever run out of ideas. thank you for everything 💙
I don't know if I love us or hate us, @parvumchao , probably a bit of both lmao. it sounds like a threat, but I'll follow you everywhere, the dash without you is shitty. I love your muses - we don't have a single happy thread *shrugs*, but I really do 💙
@nikkiitalks , let's ruin our muses and cry over them like we're not responsible for their misery! thank you for finding me years ago and for keeping me. or for letting me keep you. I don't know, we're just holding hands and follow each other everywhere and that's how it should be 💙
another partner in chomper crime! I'm so happy you and your ocs joined BNYC, @myriadxofxmuses , so now our lovely nerd ship can sail in two verses, giving us diabetes! it wouldn't be the same without you, my dash here wouldn't be the same without you, I'm so happy I've met you! 💙
@ayakoito first-time husbands muns, I'm so happy for these two! we can have 100 threads and they find a new way to make me AWWW in every single one. we can ramble about everything and anything and I'm so happy to have you, but I'm sure you will understand when I say thank you for teaching me the most important word ever: verschlimmbesserung. 😂💙
thinking "oh god, so much cringe" already? it gets worse. more hugs and thank yous:
@plotsjotsandespressoshot and your girls - I apologize for being a shit partner and I miss writing with you, so we need a new thread or ten now lol 💙
@kierankyleculkin you hurt a bot but I think you're lovely 💙
@impcrsonatcr my fellow h.alsey human, big hugs! 💙
@thefvrious & @ghostsxagain and your chef's kiss muses - I'm a fan 💙
@dontcxckitup , @richardxoliverxmayhew , @kit-just-kit - I don't think you'll mind if I put your trio like this? that's how I see you, guys lol. your muses are among my all-time favorites. 💙
speaking of favorites - @notsoinnocentlittleangel I want you to know that Joanna is one of my favorite female ocs ever 💙
@brokenblondeprincess and pierogi is a full sentence 💙
@rcbf4 it's "Adam", not "Jake" 😂💙
@sugarandwhiskey and your lovely bby - thanks for popping on my dash 💙
@emeryfleming @corxunum @ghostsandmirrors @formaechao @heartxshaped-bruises @crew-from-capulet @bewitchingbaker @poisonedfire @brooklynislandgirl @thatslayer @facepeeled @alwaysanangcl - seeing you on the dash makes me happy 💙
people I've followed since my indie debut, @cheapxseats @heartonanoose - idk if you're still around, we haven't had a thread together in ages but thank you for the ones we had in the past 💙
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wolfpants · 23 hours ago
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my year in fic: 2024!
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Thank you so much for tagging me @sitp-recs! I loved putting this little roundup together. I struggled a bit this year, creatively - I think because I had such a massive output in 2023 (226k words 😱) I was going through burnout and also feeling like I couldn't quite live up to the longfics I had posted the previous year. But putting this together, and realising I've written 120k words, I'm actually really surprised - and happy! I've done a real mix of pairings, too.
I look forward to 2025 - I'm planning to take part in Kinkuary again, and I have a few other projects up my sleeve including my first Drarry (long) 8th year fic, a collab, and a follow-up fic to a Drarry I've already published. I'm determined to go into next year with a clear and positive head and continue to stick to writing (and sharing!) what I love!
Much love to you all - wishing you all a fabulous festive season! No pressure tagging @getawayfox @tackytigerfic @maesterchill @houndsinhades @the-invisibility-bloke @toomuchplor @citrusses @skeptiquewrites @hoko-onchi-writes and anyone else who wants to share their 2024 wrapped!
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Drarry
🌟 All Is Calm, All Is Bright | E, 7k | Drarry
Tags: infidelity, Christmas markets, photographer Harry, angst and feels, pining
“Ernie and I are getting a divorce,” Draco says. A stone drops heavily in the pit of Harry’s stomach. He startles. Draco nods. He lifts his mug to his lips and sinks the contents. “Yes,” he says, his voice tight. 
🌺 Come In, the Water's Lovely | E, 4k | Drarry
Tags: established relationship smut, showering/bathing/swimming, tent sex
Harry laughs against Draco’s wet, soap-sweet skin and lets his hands fall to his waist. He steals another soft kiss. “Want me to help with that? Reviews say I’m not very clinical at all. I’m positively… extravagant.” Draco bends his head forward again and nips Harry’s lip, then soothes it with a slow swipe of his tongue. “A giver of deluxe wanks.”
🥂 How to Begin | E, 8k | Drarry
Tags: friends to lovers, drunk sex, second chances, mutual pining, they were roommates
“I think we owe it to ourselves to do it again properly,” Draco says smartly.
✈️ Longhaul | E, 9k | Drarry
Tags: mile high club, pining, flirting, mild d/s elements, competent draco
“So you’d risk plummeting us all to our deaths just to get filled? You slut,” Draco whispers.
😈 Raising Hell | E, 21k | Drarry
Tags: colleagues to lovers, case fic, occult, UST, exhibitionism, ritual sex
Malfoy pinched the bridge of his nose. “How do I put this delicately, Potter.” He shook his fringe from his face and sighed. “The initiation is sex. They want us to fuck. In front of all of them. It’s—what they do.”
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Others
☕️ Come as You Are | E, 2k | Sirius/Ron
Tags: pwp, age gap (19/40), big dick Ron, blow jobs
Open up, he imagines Ron saying with that easy, casual dominance he exudes so beautifully, so he does, just in time for Ron’s mouth to meet his. 
🎶 In My Room | E, 21k | Dron
Tags: 8th year, angst and h/c, unhealthy coping mechanisms, no hea, first time
Draco rattles around in his brain for something to talk about, something beyond the immediate obvious—we are lying in bed together, we are spooning, you are shirtless, you are holding my hand, my chest feels like it’s on fire, my head is as light as air, do you feel it too? I will die if I get hard, I might die if you change your mind about me.
🚗 A Light That Never Goes Out | E, 6k | Sirry/Draco
Tags: Sirius returns, timey wimey, road trips, hotel room hookup, threesome
Sirius’s fingers twitch around his glass. The pleasure looming in the pit of his belly at seeing Harry so happy and turned on isn’t quite enough to stem the niggling sense of envy and outsiderness he feels. Harry and Draco’s careful pleasantries melt away into something more familiar, something they’re both clearly equally relieved to pick up after, apparently, a good few years of not being in one another’s orbit.
❅ Snowdrift | E, 9k | Dronarry
Tags: married dron, threesome, domesticity, drarry pining
“Is this what you wanted?” Ron asks, turning his attention back to Harry, daring to ask the question that’s been floating in the back of his mind since the moment Harry stepped through the front door; maybe since the moment Harry’s text landed in the group chat.
🚙 Spellbound & Acheron | E, 7k (total) | Dralbus
Tags: kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, watersports, virginity kink, power imbalance, age gap
Albus hears the click of a seatbelt. His nose fills with the smell of cloves and cedar—Mr Malfoy’s cologne, his shampoo, the scent that clings to his clothes and that Albus thinks about, persistently, because it is the scent that he has come to enjoy the most. 
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leeny-leens · 3 days ago
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Knives Out (Wounds In) | BCJ x Reader
Pairing: bsf!Barty Crouch Jr x bsf! Reader
Summary: You accidentally stab Barty and he...asks for more?
Warnings: BLOOD, STABBING, INJURIES, Barty has issues,I've never dressed a thigh wound before, description of injury being taken care off, Barty likes pain (and blood), proceed with caution okay I'm sleep deprived
Content: Barty and the Reader are a little unhinged, Barty is having a crisis, Barty being called doll (courtesy of @vun3r4b13xwrites for this brain rot), not proofread or edited, Barty makes like one really dark joke abt dying but it's not too dark
WC: 3.83k
AN: this was inspired by a post of @unconventional-lawnchair and honestly idek what happened, it somehow spiraled into being something much longer and ??? than anticipated so have this. Also tagging @esotericloser BCS ya said ya want it <3
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Being friends with Barty meant that there wasn't much that could actually traumatize you anymore when it came to gory horror. Oh no, you’re bound lose that ability quite quickly in his company, with the way he walked around looking like a splasher horror victim half of the time. He barley ever had an explanation for it either, always shrugging and mumbling something incoherent about where the blood on him came from.
So really, you'd say you're pretty desensitized when it came to blood and injuries, especially when it came to Barty being bloodied and injured.
Nothing however, could have prepared you for the sight of your very own dagger piercing his thigh, blood spilling and splashing on the ground and wall.
It's your worst nightmare come true; a loved one injured and bloodied because of you and your stupidity, though Barty would go on a tangent, chiding you for the self deprecating notion of that thought.
The boy in question, you just noticed, stood by the open door, his face pulled into a blend between amusement and a grimace of pain as he stared between the dagger and your frozen form on your bed.
“Damn doll, when I said your stare could throw daggers at me I didn't think you'd take it seriously,” he said, painfully failing to conceal the wince in his voice as he joked.
The sound of his voice was apparently all your brain needed to reboot itself and jumpstart again. Immediately, you hurled yourself up from the bed, standing by his side in a few quick strides as you crouched down to examine the injury on his thigh.
“Merlin I’m sorry Bee, I was doing that stupid Charms assignment and- and you just came in and I panicked and oh my god are you gonna die?” there was seemingly no stopping you the moment you began to speak, the words stumbling out in no rhyme or rhythm as you tried to remember what little you’d learned about first aid.
In your panic, there wasn't much you remembered aside for needing to stop the bleeding somehow and making sure to keep his leg raised high, or was it keep it low to prevent bleeding? You couldn't recall it, your mind too riddled with guilt and terror at the vast amount of blood staining the carpet.
“You can't die on me,” you whimpered, tears barley held at bay “They're gonna expell me if they find out I killed you-”
The sudden realization of who your best friend was hit you harder than any hex you've sustained in your lifetime before you stared up at him with terror blown eyes “Oh my god your father is sending me to Azkaban for killing his only heir.”
This was evidently the straw that broke the camels back, Barty finally doubled over from laughter, his barking voice probably resonating through the entirety of the dormitory. His laughter quickly turned into pressed coughs as he tried to straighten back up again, mild gasps of pain escaping him in-between. Quickly, you're on your feet again, gently yet firmly guiding him to your bed and hissing at him to not put any weight on his injured leg.
To his credit, he let you push him around like a pliant ragdoll, following your instructions and keeping his pretty mouth shut aside for a few pained noises here there. His eyes flickered between you and the dagger, regarding the latter with a glimmer of fascination and you could tell it took everything in him to not poke at the metal protruding from his flesh.
“Relax doll,” he said in an attempt to reassure you “’M not gonna die yeah? Tis but a scratch.” As if trying to convince you, he tapped the dagger lightly, smiling at you with that wide expression, his lips pulled apart so much it brought his dimple out. “See? I've survived worse,” he added, and to your utter dismay, it did help calm you down.
“Right, it's probably worse than it looks like” you muttered, taking a few deep breaths to compose yourself before finally gathering your thoughts to help him. “Okay, stay right there and don't move okay?” you threw him a warning glare before disappearing into the bathroom, occasionally glancing over your shoulder to make sure he was following your instructions. You knew staying still was hard for Barty, his natural inclination to always be in motion was one of the biggest hurdles he faced in his day to day life. He couldn't sit still for longer than a few minutes, not without bouncing his leg or tapping his fingers against the nearest surface or hell, rocking back and forth. Don't get him started on people telling him to be still, that somehow made it much harder to comply than if he tried to do it on his own.
He was however, trying his best to stay still, probably to not worry you more than he already had, and you appreciated his cooperation immensely.
Returning back to his side, you knelt down at the bedside and set down a plain white box and opened it, revealing various bandages, potions and vials along side bandaids and scissors of different types and sizes.
Barty decided to stay silent, watching your movements with an attentive, hawk-like gaze and arched his eyebrows in surprise as you grabbed the biggest pair of scissors, only to bring it to the hem of his pant leg, quickly cutting through the dark fabric.
“You know,” he said amused, watching you cut apart his pants “This is not how I imagined you undressing me would go, could've taken me out to dinner first at least.”
“You're so lucky you already have a stab wound,” you replied dryly, moving the fabric away to reveal the pale skin of thigh and barley held back your grimace at the sight of the dagger lodged into it. “Otherwise that comment would've gotten you one.” you grabbed a whole bunch of gauzes and disinfectant, slowly trying to assess how bad the wound was in order to decide your next course of action.
This was the part you'd feared the most, the one where you pulled the dagger out.
As if he’d read your mind, Barty reached out to take your hand into his, bringing it to his lips so he could press a kiss on your knuckles. “It's gonna be okay doll,” he murmured softly “I trust you, you're bloody brilliant and you don't have to be scared of this.”
It was comical really, how he'd gotten hurt because of you and yet was the one to offer you comfort and reassurance. Had this been anyone else, you would've scoffed and thrashed against the gesture, but this was Barty, your Barty, who'd watched you overcome every obstacle in your life for the last six years, your Barty who knew you like the back of his hand and studied you like you were the biggest mystery in the universe to be unraveled. You could only nod in agreement, squeezing his hand tightly as you steadied your breath to pull out the dagger.
You vaguely remembered how Madam Pomfrey would talk up injured students to distract them from procedures, and you decided that if the matron of the hospital wing did it, it couldn't be that stupid of an idea to try out.
“Why did you come into my room?”
you asked suddenly, and he leaned back into the nest of pillows you had propped against your headboard.
He shrugged, a lopsided grin on his face. “No reason, just wanted to see my favourite person,” despite all the years with him as your best friend, the response still managed to draw out an over exaggerated eyeroll from you, one that did nothing to mask the smile that tugged at the corners of your lips.
You questioned him some more, asking about his day and what he was going to do, and because this was your Barty, you knew he wouldn't pass up an opportunity to talk your ear off, the dagger in his thigh quickly forgotten. Fortunately for you, that meant you could pull it out with one smooth movement, granting Barty barley any time to register the pain before you began to press a mountain of gauzes against the wound. The white fabric quickly became a soaked, scarlet mess and you could hear his breath hitch at the sight, not the way it would've from pain, but rather from something akin to speechlessness. He watched you press against the wound, switching out gauze after gauze whenever it became unusable after soaking up too much blood, and he was sure the blood rushing to his head at the sight of your fingers gleaming with the red liquid of him was significantly more fatale than the stab wound to his thigh. There was just something so primitively alluring about the sight, your face contorted into a grimace of worry and concentration as you applied moderate yet firm pressure against his thigh, not minding how dirty your hands became in the process. It didn't help that it was him sullying your pretty hands, and he swore his soul left his body when you moved a stray strand of hair out of your face, cursing when you felt the blood smear on your cheek.
He wanted nothing more but to lean forward and wipe it off, perhaps clean it up with his own mouth just to see how he tasted on you, but he remained rigidly seated like a statue, his mind a battle field of desire and rationality.
You were none the wiser to his predicament, taking his sudden silence as a side effect of pain or shock. You took to murmuring encouragement and random things about your own day, partially to fill the silence and partially to make sure the boy was still rooted into reality instead of floating into the realm of dark memories, just on the off chance that the sight of his own blood and the feeling of pain brought them forward. You told him about the stupid Charms project you’d taken up for extra credit, letting a dagger float around in a coordinated pattern, and how you'd been sitting at it for hours on end before he barged into your room, startling you into sending the dagger straight at him. He made the occasional grunt of agreement or let out a snort at a particularly funny joke you cracked, and after a few minutes that felt like an eternity, the bleeding finally seemed to stop enough for you to be able to actually inspect the wound.
It looked worse than it actually is, not too deep and not too long, and your entire body slumped in relief at the realization. For a moment, you rested your head in your hands, muttering thanks to whatever might hear you. “Thank everything you're not gonna die,” you said once you looked at Barty again, whose attention had been on you the entire time. “What a pity,” he replied almost too plainly, yet the grin on his face betrayed the self deprecating statement. “Here I was looking forward to bringing joy into my father's life for once,” you rolled your eyes so hard you worried they might actually fall out, and you could only lean forward to hit his shoulder with a warning scoff. “Don't be mean to my best friend,” you chided “That's my job, I can't afford to lose it in this economy.”
“So true, the prices are ridiculously high these days,” he mused, eyes glimmering as he watched you disinfect the wound and bandage it up.
“Exactly! I mean come on, 5 galleons for a pack of chocolates frogs? Do they think all of us are made of trust funds and old money?” Barty is unable to hold in his snort at your statement, reminiscing how you haven't let it go ever since your last trip to Hogsmeade nearly a month ago. If anyone knew how to hold a grudge, it was his doll for sure.
Absentmindedly, your fingers traced slow circles around the red, angry skin of the gash, careful to not press or touch anything that might elicit unnecessary pain. Barty’s entire body went stiff at the soft touch, so gentle and soothing, like he was made of porcelain and too fragile, the lightest press of your thumb against his thigh a breaking hazard. It was a stark contrast to how he was usually treated, but he’d come to accept it from you. While he hated being seen as vulnerable and weak- because he was everything but that-, he found himself relishing your touch and care, for it stemmed not from pity or underestimation but genuine care and love. And oh how he soaked up every ounce of affection you gave him, starved of it for his whole life but finding you there to give it to him like a steady stream flowing from the creek of your heart.
You took his stiffness as a sign of discomfort and swiftly withdrew your hand to stop the ministrations, almost missing the imperceptible whine of dissatisfaction that barely escaped the boy’s lips. When you stared at him with a puzzled look on your face, he greeted you with one of his own, cleverly covering for his mindless slip-up.
When it seemed like he hadn’t actually made any sound, you were content to get back to treating the wound, your fingers brushing over the tools in the first aid kit.
After realising the wound wasn't life threatening, your mind had cleared up significantly, rendering you able to think and remember what you needed to do to properly take care of the gash. You grabbed a bottle of blue disinfectant alongside more of the gauze, dousing the latter in the blue solution before pressing it against the injury.
The lack of warning, coupled with the sudden action, had Barty hissing and bucking in pain, even if the momentary sting left an aftertaste of pleasure in its wake.
You glanced up at him, your expression one of sheepish apology, before dapping the gauze carefully on the cut.
“’M so sorry, just a bit more yeah doll?” you murmured, your other hand coming up to rub along his knee. Barty wasn't sure what knocked out the breathe out of his lungs; the endearment or the touch or perhaps the sincerity and care that he could feel seeping into his cold and hollow bones with every second he spent in your presence. If getting stabbed by you meant he could have you this close, this warm and soft and attentive all for him? Merlin, he'd let you stab him over and over again, like he was your personal pin cushion.
He tried to keep the noise to a minimum, alongside the flinching in fear of losing your touch. The last thing he wanted was for you to let go of him, as selfish as that sounded. He quite liked having your full attention on him, like nothing else in the world mattered as much as he did.
Selfish and self-centred? Maybe.
Did he give a fuck? Not in the slightest.
A tap against his knee brought him out of his reveries, and his eyes met yours in a questioning manner. “Whadya say, darlin’?” he asked, trying his best to sound casual “Too busy enjoying your hands on me.”
His comment drew an amused chuckle from you, much too used to his flirtations. You never quite knew whether he meant it or not, all those playful jabs and nudges that toyed the line between friendship and something more, yet neither of you made a move to explore that territory, too afraid to lose what you had.
“I said I’m putting some of that scarring ointment on the wound,” you said, repeating the statement that had been lost on him. You’d already grabbed the small tub with the greenish paste. When you uncapped it, dipping your finger into it to apply it to his wound, you were surprised by his sudden recoiling, as if the mere notion of applying the ointment would sear his skin down to his bones.
“Bee?” You asked, surprised to see him flinch away from you.
He was mortified at his own reaction, not having had enough time to control his movements. He didn’t quite know how he could explain this to you, why he flinched away when you’ve been nothing but a perfect caretaker, inspecting and treating his injury.
Just as he began to sputter out a messy apology and an explanation, realisation dawned on you. You weren’t stupid, just like Barty knew you better than anyone else, you had the privilege of knowing him like no one else had. You’d watched him get into fights more often than you could count. You’d talked to him plenty about it of course, unable to just stand by as he destroyed himself, body and soul, over and over again. What had bothered you the most was him never properly taking care of his injuries, opting to let them fester and scar until his entire body was littered with gashes and cuts of various sizes. Over time, you’d come to understand that he didn’t necessarily enjoy the act of fighting itself, but rather how alive he felt with each punch, with each crack and broken bone. The scars were a testament to his existence, proof that he hadn’t been complete worn numb by life and its hardships. He liked the reminders, liked to look at them and trace along their edges whenever he felt himself slip away into the darkest corners of his mind, and you’d figured that this gash was no exception.
“You want it to scar,” you said, not a question but rather a fact. You watched as colour rushed into his pale face, mouth falling open and closing in a comical fashion. He could muster up nothing more than a nod, knowing that trying to talk his way out of this wasn’t an option.
Softly, you traced along the edge of the gash, your eyes never once leaving his. “Why?” There wasn’t an ounce of judgment in your voice as you posed the question, just pure curiosity and the need to understand him.
Silence blanketed the room as you patiently waited for him to answer your question. His eyebrows furrowed in that typical Barty manner, the one that made the silver piercings in his eyebrows more visible, catching the lights around him. When he spoke up, his voice was quiet, almost too quiet, as if afraid that speaking any louder might shatter both you and him.
“I want your mark on me,” from all the answers he could’ve given you, this one was the last one you’d expected, yet somehow the most perfect Barty answer of them all. His love had always been that way, all teeth and scratches, leaving marks in its wake as evidence that he had been there. In the same fashion, it made sense that he wanted love in the same manner; with marks left on him to prove that he was loved.
It was crazy, really, how much you understood him. It should’ve scared you, weirded you out at least, but no such sensations arised. There was only love and understanding cursing through your body for the boy you called your best friend.
Emboldened by his vulnerability, you found yourself leaning in closer, your lips ghosting over the edge of the gash before pressing them down in a gentle kiss. “It’s alright,” you mumbled “You can keep it Bee, ‘m not judging you.”
His breath hitched at the feeling of your lips pressed so closely to the wound, mind reeling at having you so close, so understanding and so incredibly loving despite him being so himself, a warning in and out of itself.
“Does that mean you’d be down to giving me another one?” He asked jokingly, trying his best to lighten the mood by even an ounce.
“Maybe,” you quipped back, pulling one of the bandaids out to put it over the wound. “If you ask nicely, I might,” you grinned up at him, enjoy in seeing him squirm for once. His eyes drifted to the dagger, mind running wild with anticipation.
“Please?”
“Is that the best you got, doll?”
“Bold statement for someone who just stabbed me,” he retorted “And took off my pants without asking!”
With a snort, you stood up, patting his thigh softly before putting the first and kit on the ground to sit beside him. “Well when you put it that way, I have no choice but to oblige, no?” You grabbed the dagger, twirling it in your hand before you ever so slowly lowered it down to graze the skin of his thigh.
He was completely still beneath your touch, his breath shallow as he waited for your next move. There was no hurry in your movements, the glinting tip of the dagger barely tracing across his flesh. “What do we say when we want something, doll?” You asked, amused by the extreme change in his behaviour. You’d never seen Barty so complacent and mellow in all your years together, much less because of you.
“Please,” he mumbled “Give me another one?” Subconsciously, he’d leaned in closer to you, hazel eyes almost completely swallowed up by the darkness of his pupils.
A small smile tugged on the corners of your mouth, and not wanting to tease him any further, you pressed the blade into his skin.
You watched as he bit his lips, trying to the best of his abilities to not wince in pain and spurred on by the heat of the moment, you closed the distance between the two of you, crashing your lips against his. The sounds of pain he let out were swallowed by your mouth, moving in frenzied hunger as you let the dagger blade dig deeper into his thigh.
In that moment, you realised two things.
One: You were in love with Barty Crouch Junior, your best friend since first year.
Two: You were incredibly and thoroughly fucked, for you would go to the ends of hell for this boy, the same way you knew without a doubt he would do the same.
And here, in the quiet of your dorm room, your mouth on his and the distinct, metallic smell of blood, you didn’t quite mind going to the ends of hell if it meant you could have Barty by your side.
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cvnntagious · 1 day ago
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new years appreciation !!
as the year comes to an end, there are a few specific people on here that i'd like to thank ! in my little time on here, i've made some amazing friends, and i want to really show them some love <3. i highly encourage others to hop on the new years appreciation train, no pressure whatsoever, using the '☆ sturntumblr '24 closing .ᐟ ‧₊' tag—highlighting a few of the friends you've made this year and/or kept from previous years :)
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@mattscoquette — we don't talk often, but when we do, i throughly enjoy our conversations. you were one of the first people outwardly express your liking for my writing, and i'm convinced it has lead to a lot of the successes i've had on here thus far. not only did it mean a lot to me at the time, but i also still hold what you probably thought was such a simple compliment so dear to my heart. you're one of the sweetest and most genuine people i've met... all in all, i just love you
—☆
@eph3merall — you're so fucking creative, always coming up with ideas for aus i couldn't have even thought up in a dream.. i actually strive to have your imagination dude. also, i'm in love with you?? like, you're so actually so funny and easy to talk to. i usually feel soo awkward talking to people on here but i literally never felt that way talking to you... and omg thank you soso much for constantly uplifting me, i take every kind word you've said to me to heart. you're so cute it makes me wanna sob
—☆
@sturnioz — after our first real convo, i felt like i'd known you for much longer than couple minutes. you’re honestly one of my closest tumblr friends, despite not knowing each other for long, and i’m sooo lucky to have met you. you were the first and only person i followed for a while when i was new to tumblr, so when you followed me back a few months later, i genuinely jumped for joy. you're so insanely talented, in every sense of the word, and i genuinely hope you consider pursuing some sort of writing career cs your shit is so.. like, i'm dripping every time (still kicking my feet at you genuinely enjoying my content cs that was so not expected). you're actually hilarious lmfao, even if you don't mean to be. also, why are we literally the same person? we have the same thoughts, sometimes at the same time, and the same/similar takes one literally almost everything we’ve talked about so far. i was genuinely sitting there in disbelief when i was talking to you... anyways, cory forever !
—☆
@submattenthusiast — you're probably the best thing that's happened to me on here, if i'm being honest. i'm soo lucky to have you in my life. you're so sexy and silly, like, ughh i just wanna eat you all the time. i enjoy literally every conversation we have with each other and look forward to talking to you every day. i'm honored to be able to call you my girlfriend, even though you piss me off most of the time... i know you're insecure about your writing but omf, whenever you say you don't like something you've written, it makes me wanna grab your shoulders and shake you until you're dizzy. you're so fucking talented. i love everything you write, and will read anything you put out (maybe not a piss kink fic but um.. ykwim). you're literally always there for me when i need you, and i hope you know i'll always be here for you as well. if i could, i'd talk to you every second of every day, but i can't, and that really eats at me ☹️ still, i wish to spend so much more time with you for as long as i possibly can
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this will be my last real post of 2024 before i begin my au special in a few days ! i love all of you guys so very much, especially my mutuals, even if i don’t talk to you often/we’ve never talked at all. see y’all next year :)
no pressure tags : @sturnsrecord @ariestrxsh @55sturn @chrissturnsfav @hoes4matthew @sweetshuga @cupiidk1lls @secretlocket @ifwdominicfike (much love to all these wonderful tagged moots) + anyone who wants to participate
-love, your grandma cvnty ☆!
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svtiddiess · 1 day ago
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⋆˙⟡ svtiddiess tumblr wrapped 2024 ⟡˙⋆
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Thank you so much to Raven @shadowkoo for tagging me! This seems like such a fun idea!
I'm forever grateful for all the love and support I've gotten this year! Through this platform, I've met so many wonderful people, many of whom I can truly call my close friends. Thank you so much for all the likes, comments, and reblogs, you leave on my fics, they really mean a lot to me ♡ I hope to continue putting out fics and sharing my love for writing, SVT, and tiddies. See you all in 2025! ♡
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2024 FIC STATUS
Number of fics posted: 56 (I'm shook myself)
Number of fics in progress: 17 (for now...)
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TOP 3 MOST POPULAR FICS OF 2024
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Thot Hour (1.7k notes) Mingyu x reader
Favourite Comments:
↳ there's nothing i love more than a man groveling for forgiveness LOL the intro alone had me hooked. i do love when he cracks tho, not able to take it anymore. we love men that are down bad for their girls 🥹🖤 @shadowkoo
↳ #im jealous i wanna dream about some yoga mat fun too @luvseungcheol
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Nom Nom (1.5k notes) Seungcheol x reader
Favourite Comments:
↳ #what the fuck!!!!#screaming without the s#the way i already think bout this man’s tiddies 24/7 and now THIS????#about to reach levels of delusion never before seen in humankind I mean that with full seriousness and as a warning @nightshadeblooming
↳ #used as a wallpaper???#this is vile#EUNHA YOU'RE FUCKING VILE#svtiddiess has never been more accurate before @multi-kpop-fanfics
↳ #SCREECHING HERE#need to mark him up good and proper#like fr fr#that man NEEDS to be bitten#I dont make the rules#I just enforce them @whipped-for-kpop-fics
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Sex Education (1.3k notes) Mingyu x reader
Favourite Comments:
↳ Oh sexy nerd 😩👄💗 @thepoopdokyeomtouched
↳#SUBBIE GYU IS MY WEAKNESS#oh my lord#oh my fuck @feat-sun
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MOST RECENT FIC OF 2024
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Moonlight (posted 28/12/2024) Jeonghan x reader
Favourite Comments:
↳ The way you wrote this I felt like I was actually there @do-you-remember-summer-127
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MOST LONGEST FIC OF 2024
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Green Eyes And Confessions (3.9k words) Mingyu x reader x Wonwoo
Favourite Comments:
↳ #I HAVE READ THIS APPROXIMATELY THREE TIMES NOW. OR A LITTLE MORE#the buildup??? delicious. conniving mingyu??? scrumptious.#WONWOO'S SWITCH UP??? ABSOLUTELY DELIRIUM-INDUCING @kwondotcom
↳ Rereading this while in heat was not a good idea 😖 but a GREAT idea 🥵😝💦💦 @brownbunnyb
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PERSONAL FAVOURITE FIC OF 2024
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Quiet Baby Seungcheol x reader
My first ever smut fic! The one that started it all. It might not be my best work, as I've improved a lot since then but it'll always hold a special place in my heart ♡
Favourite Comments:
↳ #unintelligible thoughts#as for enjoying it?#yes#thoroughly#in fact#im logging off till i recover#you have @svtiddiess to thank#yes i know i participated#but this?#😭😭😭😭😭#shambles @brownsugarbaybee
↳ Me when i realized there's only one choi seungcheol and i can never have him this way #SCREAMMMMINGGGGG WITHOUT THE S#you did so well bby 🩷#the jumpscare in the middle of the cafe was worth it @tomodachiii
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FAVOURITE READS OF 2024
⭑.ᐟ Troublemaker by @whipped-for-kpop-fics ⭑.ᐟ Hush by @sailorrhansol ⭑.ᐟ The Intruder's Eyes by @miabebe ⭑.ᐟ Creature's Of Desire by @ddeonghwa-s ⭑.ᐟ Tease by @gyuzgrl ⭑.ᐟ Anything And Always by @miabebe ⭑.ᐟ Calendar Killer by @miabebe ⭑.ᐟ Sixth Sense by @gyuzgrl ⭑.ᐟ Crossroads by @smileysuh ⭑.ᐟ $60 billion by @onlyseokmins
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MY TOP TRACKS OF 2024
➣ LALALI - Seventeen ➣ Rain - Seventeen ➣ Whiplash - Aespa ➣ Supernova - Aespa ➣ Igloo - Kiss of Life ➣ 1-800-hot-n-fun - Le sserafim ➣ Kazino - BIBI
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GOALS FOR 2025
✮ Finish and publish all wips and write more! ✮ Adopt a more active lifestyle. ✮ Get back into reading books.
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No pressure tags: @tomodachiii @welcometomyoasis @soo0hee @chanranghaeys @c-oupsie @pochaccoups @diamonddaze01 @ylangelegy @brownsugarbaybee @miabebe
+ anyone who wants to do it!
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echoingbirdsofprey · 2 days ago
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Delicate (Jake's Version)
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22 - Share In Your Suffer (Is All I Can Do)
Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x OFC Samantha Kazansky
Rating: Explicit (MDNI!)
Warnings: Fully fleshed out emotional trauma, Mentions of Dubious Consent, a certain R word, and Jake's capture/torture
A/N: I have no effing idea where this chapter came from but its damn heavy and it needed to be here. There's a shitload of trauma dumping here between Sam and Jake, with mentions of dubious consent (not by Jake, though he does say a certain word that begins with R) and he begins to unpack his capture. I know I've made Rooster the villain here, but I PROMISE he will get redemption at some point. Just not right now. Also I know I'm skipping a lot of time but the next thing coming up is going to be the Navy Ball and then the first chapter of the crossover so I had to. I will still be writing chapters for Delicate and Lightning concurrently with the 3rd part too so just be aware of that! As always, likes, comments, reblogs are the most appreciated. Thank y'all for showing this story as much love as you have.
This was wild to write but I loved every fucking second of it.
Tags: @djs8891 @mrsevans90 @gpsmississippihippie @barnesboo1967 @dizzybee03
Jake decided the best place to meet Maverick would be on base. It would be the first time he was stepping on base since the mission. He’d also decided that he needed to try to do this without Sam, so while he really wasn’t supposed to be driving, he promised he’d be careful, and went alone. He needed to do something by himself. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Sam to help him, but it was a matter of his own pride, his own ego, that needed a boost. Sam would wait with bubbling anxiety until he got home.
He pulled into the base parking lot and hopped out of his truck. It felt good to drive his own vehicle. He had begun his physical therapy, but he still had to wear the sling during the day. He’d felt much better about his body within the first appointment. He had been extremely sore the next day, but he appreciated the soreness. It meant he was getting better. 
As he walked toward the main building, he noticed Nat leaving. She smiled at him and approached.
“Hi, Jake. How are you feeling?” She asked, pulling him into a hug. He accepted warmly and hugged her back.
“I’m okay. Just trying to get better. I’m here to see Mav. I wanna talk with him about Rooster.” Jake said and Nat nodded.
“Sam told me what happened. Rooster is pretty broken up about it. He didn’t mean to scare her. He wanted to talk to you when he got back.” Nat explained and Jake tilted his head.
“Where’d he go?” He asked and Nat’s brows furrowed.
“You didn’t hear? He asked to go back to Virginia. He’s deployed on a short mission.” She said and Jake took a breath in disbelief. He pursed his lips and then smiled at Nat, patting her on the shoulder before returning his hands to his pockets.
“Good to see you, Nat.” He said as they parted ways. He continued into the building, and headed to Cyclone’s office first. He knocked on the door and heard Cyclone’s voice say ‘come in’. Jake entered and found Maverick and Warlock there as well.
“Lieutenant. Have a seat. Good to see you.” Cyclone said, and Jake did exactly that. He pulled a chair from across the room and sat diagonally to Maverick. He folded his arms across his lap. “You’re out of your sling?”
“Just for a few hours during the day and to sleep. I’m supposed to put it back on if my shoulder starts to hurt or feel fatigued, per the doctor. I don’t particularly want to put it back on at all, but Sam is keeping me honest, so we’re rotating how long it stays on.” Jake explained and all three of the other men smiled wide, knowing all too well that Jake was being a stubborn patient, and they weren't the least bit surprised by it either.
“So, you wanted to discuss Rooster? We were just talking about him coming back after his current deployment.” Maverick said, cutting right to the chase. 
“Yeah. I didn’t realize he’d requested another deployment so soon.” Jake said and Mav swallowed hard.
“He’s running away from his problems, as usual.” He said and Jake’s brows furrowed. Maverick continued. “He’s pretty fairly broken up about Samantha. He’s always been in love with her. They met when they were teenagers, just through Ice and I being friends and wingmen. Bradley was less bitter about his dad then too. And then his mom passed and I pulled his papers. That pissed him off and when he finally graduated, he tried to be as far away from me as he could so Oceana base was where he settled. A few years ago, Ice and I ended up needing to attend a funeral for a friend and fellow pilot down there, and Sam had come down to visit her dad from college in that same week. While Ice, our friends, and I were out reminiscing, Bradley was trying to romance Sam. It worked for about two days and then Sam headed back home and the next time she saw Bradley, it was like nothing had ever happened. You can imagine how much that pissed Bradley off.” Maverick explained and Jake stayed silent as he disgusted everything that he’d been told. Sam had told him some of this but not all of it. 
“Sam can be harsh, especially if a guy is being a jerk. It doesn’t come from a place of entitlement either. She wants respect. She demands it. But I think guys see all that she gets, and don’t get me wrong she’s worked her ass off to get where she is in her job, but I don’t know how many pilots have found out that she’s Ice’s daughter and they just try to make a play at her because of it. She’s developed an armor over her heart because of that. I’m surprised she let you in, honestly. But the bigger issue with Rooster is he tried, and succeeded in getting a night with her so now he thinks he’s entitled to it again. He sees you and knows you’re getting everything that he thinks he deserves. What he doesn’t see is what I assume is all the work you put in to get her. And the way in which you went about it.” Maverick’s analysis was spot on to what Jake was thinking. He knew that Rooster was jealous because he had Sam’s heart. And when looking in from the outside, it didn’t seem like Jake had done much to get it, but he had. All the texting, sweet talking, buying her breakfast, lunch and dinners, and it helped immensely that Rocco immediately liked Jake. 
“I want to try to iron things out with Rooster. I know it’s never going to be completely smooth sailing, but I’d like to coexist at the least without having to have Sam be stressed the fuck out every time he’s around. We’re all friends with the same pilots.” Jake said softly and Maverick reached over and squeezed his shoulder.
“Well, now you have some insight on Rooster. A lot of his problem is me and he and I are trying to work everything out, but it’s going to take time, like anything that needs fixing. You know that all too well. I can’t say fixing our relationship will fix everything between you and him and Sam, but I do think it’ll smooth some of the sharp edges that are there.” Maverick said and he smiled at Jake. “I’m sure when he comes back, he’ll have had enough time to think about things and he’ll come apologize. He always apologizes. He’s not all bad, he’s just in his head too much. But let him come to you. If you try to approach him, it’ll just make it worse.” 
“Noted. Thank you for telling me. I just feel like he’s trying to compete with me and with Sam it’s not a game. At least I don’t see it that way. I haven’t ever been interested in settling down, but with her, I have this overwhelming need to do anything and everything for her. I feel like that’s more a life purpose than a game. I’ve played the game long enough. I tap out.” Jake explained and all three of the other men chuckled and nodded in agreement.
“I can see why your fellow pilots said you’ve grown outside of work as well. It’s funny when you figure out that you can fly not only for yourself, but someone else as well.” Cyclone added and Jake smiled. There was a comfortable silence that fell over the room then, and suddenly Jake felt like he’d grown up. He wasn’t the little kid in his bedroom playing with model planes and pretending he was flying a jet in the back yard with his brother. He wasn’t the kid who thought he was invincible driving fast down route 57 in Arkansas, racing his brother. He wasn’t the young man flirting in the bar after his first air to air kill with every pretty girl that came along. He wasn’t the man who unknowingly fell for the Fleet Commander’s daughter at first sight. In that moment, in that room, he’d become a man whose purpose was now to build a family with the woman he loved. He had something more than himself to live for.
While Jake was at the base, Warlock elected to show him the office that they had prepared for Jake when he was ready to come back to work. He and Sam were planning to go down to Oklahoma for Christmas, immediately after the Navy Birthday Ball, which was in a few weeks time. Jake was doing everything he could to be out of his sling by then because he was absolutely not accepting his Navy Cross in a fucking sling. After setting foot in his office, which was small, just enough room for the desk and the shelves that were there, as well as a couple chairs, he glanced out the window, which overlooked the taxiway. It was a nice view. Jake thanked Warlock and when he left, he stood for a few moments in the front lobby. 
There was a memorial board of Iceman that people had tacked their favorite pictures on. There were old pictures of him and the pilots from his and Maverick’s squadron. There were pictures of him and pilots shaking his hand at their graduation from Top Gun and from the Naval Academy. And at the bottom, there was a picture that only one person could’ve put up. It was of Ice, Mav, Rooster, and Sam from that funeral. Just the four of them, but Jake’s brows furrowed at the way Rooster’s hand was wound tightly around Sam’s waist. Jake shook his head. He understood all too well why Rooster was so willing to help Sam when she needed it and to protect her when he thought she needed it. It wasn’t Sam’s fault for reciprocating the one time. Jake figured she’d thought it was okay to give him a chance, and she probably regretted it a hundred fold now, because it had backfired on her in such a spectacular way. She was probably kicking herself every now and again for letting Rooster in that one time. 
Jake walked out to his truck and stopped for a moment, taking a heavy breath before climbing in. He didn’t want to know at first but now he needed to. He needed to ask Sam what happened between her and Rooster, because he was getting the feeling that something wasn’t lining up the way it should. Something about the whole thing wasn’t right.
Arriving at home, he found Sam comfortably napping on the couch, the dogs all around her. Of course, they had come to greet him at the door, but they’d immediately went right back to laying in the vicinity of Sam. Javy and Maisy were out again and he shot Javy a quick text, asking when they’d be back. A couple of hours had been his response. Jake went to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water and sat at the small island. He then heard the shaking of tags on collars and soft footsteps on the carpeted floor. Samantha appeared, yawning and stretching. She stepped behind Jake and wrapped her arms around his waist and placed her chin on his good shoulder, pressing her lips to his neck then.
“You came back in one piece.” She mused and he turned in his seat and pulled her between his legs. 
“”I did. Hey...listen...I wanna talk about something.” Jake said, averting his eyes for a moment. This was going to kill him to ask.
“Sure, is everything okay?” She asked, placing her hands on either side of his neck. That was good. He could keep her close in case she got emotional. He was banking on it.
“I don’t know, you tell me.” He said, his tone with an accusatory edge that made Sam pull back. “I know I said I didn’t want to know, but now I need to. Tell me what happened with you and Roos all those years back, please.” He demanded and Sam’s eyes drifted shut for a moment before she took a shaky breath.
“I told you. We had sex. It was shit. I wasn’t interested in going further than the one night with him and that pissed him off.” Sam said, her gaze drawn down to Jake’s chest. Her fingers lingered on his neck but they stilled and Jake could tell she wasn’t telling him everything.
“Run me through that night.” He said, his tone softening significantly, reaching up to cup her cheeks with his hands. Her face contorted into a painful grimace and she bit her lip.
“Only if you tell me what happened when you got captured.” Sam said, hoping that he would give something up too. His lips thinned and he glanced away for a moment before his thumbs rubbed along her cheekbones.
“Okay. But...it’s going to scare you, so remember that you asked.” He whispered, poking his nose toward her. She met it with her own and her fingers clawed at his shirt.
“My story is going to make you want to kill Rooster, so...I guess we’ll be equal in some aspect.” Her eyes fluttered shut and she pulled away slightly with a heavy sigh. She leaned against one of his thighs and the side of the counter before beginning her story. “So...we’d gone to a funeral that afternoon for a friend of my dad’s. Then we all went to dinner that night and some of his friends stayed at the restaurant and some of them wanted to head to a bar. Rooster was all sorts of mad at Maverick and I was trying to be a good friend and went to the bar with him. We had some drinks, we danced, had some more drinks, and then he got a little handsy which I remember at the time I wasn’t having. And of course as Rooster does, he apologized, telling me he was just mad and he really needed a friend right now. I told him maybe we should go back to my room or his.” 
Jake swallowed hard and his brows knitted. It was hard for him to hear, but it was because he loved Sam as much as he did. He couldn't stand the thought of another man having her, even though it had already happened, but as he understood Rooster more, he thought less of him as an enemy and he just felt plain sorry for him. Sam searched Jake’s face for a signal to continue then. She took the gentle caress of his fingers across her jawline as exactly that.
“Rooster and I went back to his apartment, which was just off base. It wasn’t terribly late and he asked if I wanted anything else to drink and I said sure. We were already pretty buzzed at that point so I remember him handing me a glass of tequila or whiskey, something like that, and saying what a terrible idea that was. We sat on his couch, drank, and listened to music. At some point he...decided that he wanted to kiss me. I...allowed it once...and then pushed him away. I told him he was being stupid. We sat there for a while and then he tried again, the same thing and I got kind of pissed at him because he just wasn’t getting it and obviously we were drunk so I was trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. I pushed him away and then he walked away. Of course I felt bad. I went looking for him and he’d gone into his room. I remember leaning against the door frame...and he stood up and I went to leave but he grabbed me. He kissed me and I tried to push him away...” Sam hadn’t realized that she had tears running down her cheeks and that was when Jake stopped her, his stare hard, his nostrils flared. 
“Did he force you...did he...?” Jake couldn’t bring himself to say it, but Sam knew what he was asking.
“I let my pity for him get the better of me. He...kept pulling me toward the bed and I tried to stop but he kept telling me he just needed a friend right now’ and that I was ‘being such a good friend’ and I just didn’t understand what exactly was going on. I felt bad for him...so I just let it happen. We were so drunk, Jake...I just...didn’t know what to do...and I wanted to help him because we’d been friends for so long. I think I felt obligated...” Sam explained and Jake’s hands steadied her at the sides of her head.
“You should never feel like you need to do that. Even for me. Sam...he coerced you to have sex with him. That’s not something a friend does. That’s borderline...rape.” Jake said, his lips tight. His jaw tensed and he searched Sam’s eyes then, seeing in them understanding for what he was saying. She knew the whole exchange hadn’t felt right but she believed that Rooster wasn’t intentionally trying to hurt her. His basal instincts took over and he wanted connection, which for him, the only way he knew to do that was through sex, and Sam being drunk, was all too willing to give in that night. Sam became bubbly and overly nice when she was drunk. She hated that part of herself.
“That’s not how I thought of it...at least not at the time. We’ve never talked about it...Roos and I...” Sam sounded apologetic and Jake’s brows furrowed and his tone became edged with anger.
“Don’t you do that. Don’t you be sorry for him acting like a shitty friend. Don’t you ever feel sorry for that.” Jake growled and Sam took in a sharp breath at his words. “And you have every right to be an asshole to him. I get that you were both drunk but even then he shouldn’t have been begging to fuck you. If he was a good friend he should’ve respected you. He can’t even respect you now. I just needed to know how deep the disrespect runs because it’ll inform my interactions with him from now on. You won’t be alone with him ever again. That’s on me.” 
“Are you mad?” She asked and Jake shook his head.
“No. I feel sorry for him. He’s so angry and conflicted inside because of his parents and Maverick.” Jake said. He pulled Sam into a hug and all he could do for Rooster was to forgive him. There was nothing that could be done. It wouldn’t help Sam for Jake to go and beat the shit out of Rooster. It wouldn’t help Jake to hang onto a grudge. Jake had his fair share of drunk hookups. Jake would probably want to hit Rooster the next time he saw him, but knowing that Sam was trusting Jake with an experience so raw softened that urge. 
“I left in the morning. I felt like that said enough. Rooster and I never spoke about it again. I’ve never told anyone else about it, not even Nat. At least not the truth.” Sam said.
“And that’s the whole truth? You swear?” Jake asked and Sam nodded.
“I wouldn’t lie to you about something like that, Jake.” Sam said and she realized just how mature Jake was in that moment. Most guys would run off and try to kill someone that did something like that to their girl in the past. Jake was cool and calculating, sagacious in a way that she wasn’t expecting. She didn’t know why though, because she’d come to know that Jake was consistently this way. He was observant and watchful, and everything he did was planned, even if it didn’t look like it was on the outside. He thought a million ways to one how to make things work. His hands dropped down to her waist and then his eyes became apprehensive. 
“I don’t know how much I can offer...but let me start with my nightmare the other night. You did so good telling me...so I want to give you something like you asked.” Jake said, tone unsteady. Sam leaned closer, her hips meeting his. He intertwined his fingers around her back and the sage of his eyes held distress as she watched his thoughts grow dark. There was a shroud that washed over him, his muscles tensing as he shared what he felt he could. “When I tell you the only goal they had in mind was to make me suffer, Samantha, I’m being serious. These men did not care whether I lived or died. I was starved. They withheld water as long as they could. They taunted me. And you know how I can’t help making a smartass remark, but there were things they said to me that made me stay quiet. I’ve never been so scared. The worst part was the pain. Not just from the broken bones, but my whole body ached from dehydration and starvation. And they had the ability to take that away, but they wouldn’t.” 
“Jake, you don’t have to tell me anymore, right now. I get the gist of it. And I know you’re probably never going to want to tell me all of it.” Sam said softly. Jake brushed his cheek against her cheek.
“That’s the thing, Sam. I do wanna tell you. But I’m still sorting it all out in my head. I need you to know it all, but I’m fucking terrified to tell you, not because of what you’ll think, but because it scares me how much my love for you and my need to get back to you made me shatter myself to pieces. I would destroy every part of me to love you.” Jake murmured. Sam didn’t know what to say, only that she couldn’t put anything quite that eloquently, so she wasn’t even going to try. She couldn’t even begin to. 
25 notes · View notes
hannieween · 3 days ago
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my tumblr wrapped
i was tagged by the beautiful @petrichor-han in her post! i think this is super cool so i thank you for tagging me!! the game was started by the amazing @junkissed so be sure to check out her post as well!
this year has been amazing, my blog turned 1 year old in october! so i have been writing continuously for a year and some months, which makes me feel so proud of myself and so thankful for everyone who has been cheering me on, and fueling me to continue posting and sharing what i write. so thank you all! here i go
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⌈ FIRST FIC OF THE YEAR ⌋
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✧ blue hour | chapter vi of city lights ✧
posted: 01 • 12 • 24
thoughts: oof this one was a doozy. i wrote most of this while i was going through some nasty period of insomnia, so everything i remember from the time i wrote this is like a blur. but people liked it!
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⌈ LAST FIC OF THE YEAR ⌋
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✧ hell bent | chapter iv of the curse ✧
posted: 15 • 12 • 24
thoughts: i loved, loved, loved, loved writing this fic so much. it all started with something so simple but it evolved into one of my favorite fics i have written
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⌈ LONGEST FIC ⌋
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✧ a date with the devil | one shot ✧
posted: 12 • 10 • 24
thoughts: well, this is not my longest fic, it is in fact the city lights series but for the purposes of following the trend, i will just put here the longest fic i have posted. it is 26k words and i would have made it longer but i hit the text block limit and had to accept it
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⌈ MOST POPULAR FIC ⌋
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✧ ladies' night | chapter i of wicked games ✧
posted: 29 • 09 • 24
thoughts: aaaah, this one is a fic that i have not dared to go back to. i initially had this idea months before i ended a committed relationship of 3+ years. so when i wrote this, i was going through a rough time mentally. but i will go back to it! promise hehe
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⌈ PERSONAL FAVORITE ⌋
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✧ neon lights | chapter vi of lights out ✧
posted: 10 • 12 • 24
thoughts: my favorite is a date with the devil, i love that fic but i'm also listing this one because it challenged me to write something i had never written before. city lights x lights out are my babies, so!
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⌈ TOP CHARACTERS ⌋
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yoon jeonghan:🥇227k
joshua hong:🥈218k
choi seungcheol:🥉52.7k
thoughts: now, this is insane. joshua would be in that first place if i had included the first five chapters of city lights. but i would have never imagine that i would write so much for jeonghan in such a short period of time (sep-dec i wrote 70k words for just him). it is also kind of funny that my bias line is here, ha. i will write more for heartbreaker! and for my other series as well, x
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⌈ SUMMARY ⌋
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total fics posted: 27
total word count: 416.7k
thoughts: this is super cool! i think that i started the year strong, posting for my seungkwan, seungcheol and dk series, but then i got a job that demands most of my time and i sort of had a decline in number of posts. i feel sad about that
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⌈ RESOLUTIONS ⌋
this was not in the original game i was tagged, but i thought it would be fun to include it. for next year, i would like to write more and pay attention to my other series that i have neglected for lack of time. i will try to keep myself on track ›–‹
so promises! in no order in particular i promise i will post part three of the guilty pleasures series, my jun hades collab piece, a jeonghan hunger games collab piece, part five of the heartbreaker series and will keep it rolling!
once again, thank you to everyone that has supported me this year! i love you all ♡︎
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tagging: @okiedokrie @miniseokminnies @monamipencil @gyuhao5 @wonustars (❁´◡`❁)
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tellmegoodbye · 23 hours ago
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It's almost 2025 y'all!
I'm stealing this idea from Michelle and Emily, except instead of just picking one, I'm going to share seven sentence snippets from all of my fics from this year! Also, at the end I'm going to share a snippet of a WIP that I am hoping to finally get the ball rolling on in the new year.
I also posted my end of year roundup if you want to check that out.
Thank you @heartstringsduet @strandnreyes @henrygrass @carlos-in-glasses @carlossreaders
@lemonlyman-dotcom @emsprovisions and @nisbanisba for tagging me!
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our love will guide us home
The sights and sounds surrounding him begin to still, the cruel, meaningless world slowing to an agonizing stop. All Carlos feels is darkness. A terrible sickness consuming him from the inside out as he resigns himself to the inevitable. TK is going to die, and a part of Carlos is dying with him. Everything feels slow, solidified. Inching closer towards the end until all that is left is a good man who died a hero, and a broken man who mourned the loss of a love. His first real love. And perhaps, his last.
until the end of time
It's a look that makes him feel complete. Carlos is the final puzzle piece in his life, making him whole in every way. They were made for each other, no evidence of that greater than the way TK feels when he looks into his eyes. Trusted. Wanted. Loved. He sinks into Carlos slowly, joining their bodies and their hearts, watching fireworks erupt in his face, going inch by inch until he's fully buried inside of him and the rest of the world ceases to exist.
leave your love in the lamplight
Every time they have to say goodbye, they follow it with a “see you soon” spoken in kisses pressed to their rings. It's a reminder. It's a promise to always do everything they can to make it back home. Carlos knows he will keep that promise. No matter where this job takes him, no matter where his investigation into his father's death leads – he will always, always, come home to TK. He makes that promise with every kiss, and now he seals it into place with the last words he speaks before TK's alarm comes alive, telling him that it’s time to leave for work. “I love you too, husband.”
tonight your tears will fall from the sky
He knows that if TK is truly about to die, and if that's what's going to kill him, it's going to be a painful, grueling death. “TK…” he breathes. “How long?” “We covered the door with our turnouts but it's not going to work for much longer. Maybe a few minutes.” A few minutes. Nearly thirty years, a whole lifetime ahead of him – and all it takes is a few minutes to put an end to it all.
winds are shifting for our souls
He can hold TK, and he can imagine a world where he'd never have to let him go again. “Come here,” he whispers. “I've got you, baby.” A sob rips out of him and startles Carlos. It comes with the weight of a dam break. TK's cracks crumble into sand as he buries his face deeper into Carlos' shoulder, and his resolve vanishes entirely once he's safely tucked away. Hardened horror falls into the hands that cradle his face, keeping him steady as he cries.
with broken wings we fly
“She told me how much you loved watching him play when you were little.” Hesitant hands graze the newly polished wood. Carlos is gentle, as if even the slightest pressure from his fingers would cause the guitar to remember its age and crumble into a million pieces. Or as if it were a ghost. “I didn't even know she still had this,” he whispers. TK smiles fondly, placing his hand next to where Carlos’ rests against the rosewood. He lets out a soft sound and traces a circle around the blue of his ring.
and the silence sets me free
When TK paced the kitchen after restless nights and early-morning AA meetings, Carlos was there. When he confided to the person over his phone instead of the man in his bed, Carlos made sure to be there when he was done so he could kiss him goodnight again. When TK’s grief unfurled and painted his eyes in tears, tears that were illuminated by the light of the candles he lit in honor of his mother, Carlos was there. Waiting and listening, squeezing his arm, allowing the silence to subside naturally and make way for the heavy conversations that finally came on the final night. Bittersweet sorrow swelled up in a wave that would eventually seep into the air along with the smoky remnants of the flames. Every little step feels like another immeasurable goodbye. “It won't get easier if you never go, Carlos.”
Now for my currently untitled murder mystery au.....I really hope to be able to share this with you guys in 2025, but I make zero promises.
Carlos Reyes was already somewhat of a legend before his name ever made its way into the top scores on the detective's exam. As a patrol officer, he'd worked several cases off the books, which often resulted in reckless decisions, many of which nearly got him killed or fired. Detailed reports of how he chased down a kidnapper while off duty and broke into the house of a serial killer without backup didn't exactly leave TK with a lot of confidence. Sure, he's damn good at what he does. TK just can't help but wonder if the cost will eventually catch up with him. “I'm looking forward to working together,” Carlos says, offering a handshake that TK accepts hesitantly. Behind his forced smile, there's a voice that says no, he absolutely is not looking forward to working with him. At least the feeling is mutual.
Tags!
@paperstorm @alrightbuckaroo @freneticfloetry @literateowl @bonheur-cafe
@ironheartwriter @morganaspendragonss @decafdino @eclectic-sassycoweyes @goodways
@reyesstrand @butchreyes @theghostofashton @nancys-braids @welcometololaland
+ open tag
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teotheratking · 1 month ago
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ABOUT JEAN: The monthly discourse
Damn and I thought we were past monthly Jean discourse, y'all are quite off schedule this time.
I do think it's funny how Jean-Heron Vicquemare continues to be The Public Enigma with what could be equivalent of 5 minutes of screen time. All of his appearances can be put into 3 groups: worrying/searching for Harry, watching over Harry, spending 45 minutes on insulting him. So it only makes sense how his discourse as well is surrounded by conversation, what is his relationship with Harry? Him being Harry's Satellite officer is like another added layer to how his whole existence seems in a constant orbit around the center of the Earth - Harrier Du Bois.
When discussing both of these characters I think it is crucial to strip them down layer by layer. When we're doing this Harry and Jean, I think we see far too quickly, how similar they are even with many differences: both are addicts, depressed, having facial scarrings and, of course, both are cops.
When looking at them from purely 'superior and subordinate perspective, they remind me of Robert Eggers script from The Lighthouse (2019) particularly this bit:
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The Lighthouse explores the themes of capitalism and perpetual cycles of new and old generations: Young and Old.
We can see similar themes explored in DE as well. The game isn't afraid of constantly putting the players head into the mud, saying: "Yeah, it is that shit." RCM is a constantly moving system that lures people in with the promise of help for community and spits out a hollow husk of their former selves. Though I would say it doesnt do that either as most of them die before ever reaching retirement age.
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Harry is surrounded by old dog imagery.
Particularly dogs that are about to be put down or are already dead. I particularly love this segment of the game with Joyce - it is clear that in this segment the black dog licking his wound is Harry, who's getting put down by the system he works in. But what I think makes the scene even better is what follows it:
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Every officer's fate in RCM is the same.
It's the years of violence, brutality, system that eats those, who help and enables those, who hurt. It's speed, alcohol, never ending poverty, and as years go by another officer is closer and closer to finally pull the trigger on the old dog that you have become.
One final act in the Disco Inferno.
And there's inescapable horror in all of this: seeing what you will become, what you're bound to become. Looking in the mirror and staring at your partner's reflection - ever present reminder: "This will be you in 10 years to come."
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When Jean says "trying," what he actually means is "functional." Having context of RCM system and inherent ableism of it, I think it's safe to say, that "to try" means "to succeed."
Jean isn't anymore functional than Harry as he is simply younger. Harry through entirety of the game is experiencing raining bonefire of decades of drug abuse and effects of poverty and long lasting emotional physical abuse. Meanwhile, Jean is yet to experience the crashing sun. He has 10 years to do so.
In perpetual vortex that is this sinking ship, partnership and comradery, become essentials for survival. Harry and Jean form particularly tight bond, tight enough that both can't evade speculations about their sexuality or type of relationship they have, thus "hetero-sexual life partners" are born.
I see a lot of people insisting, that those two relationship, that they had is what we can see right now in the game: partnership that feels more like a race of self destruction, while putting sticks in each other's metaphorical bicycles. To see which one falls first. But I feel this is complete controdictory to what we hear from the game:
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"Trouble in paradise" - I wouldn't use those words if my two coworkers, who try to sabotage each other on the daily would finally get into all consuming fight. Though what do I know about male-centric workplace humour.
No matter, which way you choose to look at it, at the events of Disco Elysium, Jean's and Harry's relationship is at their absolute worst. Rock bottom. Maybe even beyond it, though that depends how one evaluates forgetting 44 years of your life except lost ex goes into equation. What we see is culmination of their every moment together - good and bad, which erupts into terrible earthquake.
Finally, what we see of Jean and Harry's relationship is supposed to be merely introduction, or at least was (Kurwitz pls, let me read the scripts). By small bits and pieces Luiga has decided to reveal to the public is that Jean is supposed to be one of main partners of the second game featuring The Return.
This doesn't deny Jean's role as The Jury or The Executioner in the Final Tribunal. He represents RCM's bigotry, ableism and hypocrisy of it all - a broken system of a destructive cycle - ouroboros eating it's own tail. However at the end of the day he's as much a person as any other in Elysium - full of complexity and nuance, the verdict of we simply do not have enough information of.
Finally at the end of this... I don't know what to even call this, I have no idea how one would arrive to concrete conclusion, that is either: "Jean good' or "Jean bad." All game's characters are some kind of moraly grey - this isn't a MARVEL movie or a fairy tale that people want it to be. It is a commentary of cultures that we all have grown up in. For me DE really resonates from Baltic States history and culture context, because this is all I've ever known.
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demigod-of-the-agni · 9 months ago
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Spider-Man India, but... where from India?
A SUPER long post featuring talks of: cultural identity, characterisation, the caste system, and what makes Spider-Man Spider-Man.
I’m prefacing this by saying that I am a second-generation immigrant. I was born in Australia, but my cultural background is from South India. My experiences with what it means to be “Indian” is going to be very different from the experiences of those who are born and brought up in India.
If you, reader, want to add anything, please reblog and add your thoughts. This is meant to be a post open for discussion — the more interaction we get, the better we become aware of these nuances.
So I made this poll asking folks to pick a region of India where I would draw Pavitr Prabhakar in their cultural wear. This idea had been on my mind for a long while now, as I had been inspired by Annie Hazarika’s Northeastern Spidey artwork in the wake of ATSV’s release, but never got the time to actually do it until now. I wanted to get a little interactive and made the poll so I could have people choose which of the different regions — North, Northeast, Central, East, West, South — to do first.
The outcome was not what I expected. As you can see, out of 83 votes:
THE RESULTS
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South India takes up almost half of all votes (44.6%), followed by Northeast and Central (both 14.5%) and then East (13.3%). In all my life growing up, support towards or even just the awareness of South India was pretty low. Despite this being a very contained poll, why would nearly half of all voters pick South India in favour of other popular choices like Central or North India?
Then I thought about the layout of the poll: Title, Options, Context.
Title: "Tell us who you want to see…"
Options: North, Northeast, Central, East, West, South
Context: I want to make art of the boy again
At first I thought: ah geez. this is my fault. I didn't make the poll clear enough. do they think I want them to figure out where Pavitr came from? That's not what I wanted, maybe I should have added the context before the options.
Then I thought: ah geez. is it my fault for people not reading the entire damn thing before clicking a button? That's pretty stupid.
But regardless, the thought did prompt a line of thinking I know many of us desi folk have been considering since Spider-Man India was first conceived — or, at least, since the announcement that he was going to appear in ATSV. Hell, even I thought of it:
Where did Spider-Man India come from?
FROM A CULTURALLY DIVERSE INDIA
As we know, India is so culturally diverse, and no doubt ATSV creators had to take that into account. Because the ORIGINAL Spider-Man India came from Mumbai — most likely because Mumbai and Manhattan both started with the same letter.
But going beyond that, it’s also because Mumbai is one of the most recognisable cities in India - it’s also known as Bombay. It’s where Bollywood films are shot. It’s where superstar Hindi actors and actresses show up. Mumbai is synonymous with India in that regard, because the easiest way Western countries can interact with Indian culture is through BOLLYWOOD, through HINDI FILMS, through MUMBAI. Suddenly, India is Mumbai, India is a Hindi-only country, India is just this isolated thing we see through an infinitely narrow lens.
We’ve gotten a little better in recent years, but boy I will tell you how uncomfortable I’ve gotten when people (yes, even desi people) come up to me and tell me, Oh, you’re Indian right? Can you speak Hindi? Why don’t you speak Hindi? You’re not Indian if you don’t speak Hindi, that’s India’s national language!
I have been — still am — so afraid of telling people that I don’t speak Hindi, that I’m Tamil, that I don’t care that Hindi is India’s “national” language (it’s an administrative language, Kavin, get your fucking facts right). It’s weird, it’s isolating, and it has made me feel like I wasn’t “Indian” enough to be accepted into the group of “Indian” people.
So I am thankful that ATSV went out of their way to integrate as much variety of Indian culture into the Mumbattan sequence. Maybe that way, the younger generation of desi folk won’t feel so isolated, and that younger Western people will be more open to learning about all these cultural differences within such a vast country.
BUT WHAT DOES THIS HAVE TO DO WITH SPIDER-MAN INDIA?
Everything, actually. There’s a thing called supremacy. You might have heard of it. We all engaged with it at some point, and if you are Indian, no matter where you live, it is inescapable.
It happens the moment you are born — who your family is, where you are born, the language you speak, the colour of your skin; these will be bound to you for life, and it is nigh impossible to break down the stereotypes associated with them.
Certain ethnic groups will be more favourable than others (Centrals, and thus their cultures, will always be favoured over than Souths, as an example) and the same can be said for social groups (Brahmins are more likely to secure influential roles in politics or other areas like priesthood, while the lowers castes, especially Dalits, aren’t even given the decency of respect). Don’t even get me started on colourism, where obviously those of fairer skin will win the lottery while those of darker skin aren’t given the time of day. It’s even worse when morality ties into it — “lighter skinned Indians, like Brahmins, embody good qualities like justice and wisdom”, “dark skinned Indians are cunning and poor, they are untrustworthy”. It’s fucking nuts.
This means, of course, you have a billion people trying to make themselves heard in a system that tries to crush everyone who is not privileged. It only makes sense that people want to elevate themselves and break free from a society that refuses to acknowledge them. These frustrations manifest outwardly, like in protests, but other times — most times — it goes unheard, quietly shaping your way of life, your way of thinking. It becomes a fundamental part of you, and it can go unacknowledged for generations.
So when you have a character like Pavitr Prabhakar enter the scene, people immediately latch onto him and start asking questions many Western audiences don’t even consider. Who is he? What food does he eat? What does he do on Fridays? What’s his family like, his community? All these questions pop up, because, amidst all this turmoil going on in the background, you want a mainstream popular character to be like you, who knows your way of life so intimately, that he may as well be a part of your community.
BUT THAT'S THE THING — HE'S FICTIONAL
I am guilty of this. In fact, I’ve flaunted in numerous posts how I think he’s the perfect Tamil boy, how he dances bharatanatyam, how he does all these Tamil things that no one will understand except myself. All these niche things that only I, and maybe a few others, will understand.
I’ve seen other people do it, too. I’ve seen people geek out over his dark brown skin, his kalari dhoti, how he fights so effortlessly in the kalaripayattu martial arts style. I’ve seen people write him as Malayali, as Hindi, as every kind of Indian person imaginable.
I’ve also seen him be written where he’s subjected to typical Indian and broader Asian stereotypes. You know the ones I’m so fond of calling out. The thing is, I’ve seen so much of Pavitr being presented in so many different ways, and I worry how the rest of the desi folk will take it. 
You finally have a character who could be you, but now he’s someone else’s plaything. Your entire life is shaped by what you can and can’t do simply because you were born to an Indian family, and here’s the one person who could represent you now at the mercy of someone else’s whims. He’s off living a life that is so distant from yours, you can hardly recognise him.
It shouldn’t hurt as much as it does, yeah? But, again, you’re looking at it from that infinitely narrow lens Westerners use to look at India from Bollywood.
AND PAVITR PRABHAKAR DOESN'T LIVE IN INDIA
He lives in Mumbattan. He lives in a made-up, fictional world that doesn’t follow the way of life of our world. He lives in a city where Mumbai and Manhattan got fucking squashed together. There are so many memes about colonialism right there. Mumbattan isn’t real! Spider-Man India isn’t real!! He’s just a dude!! The logic of our world doesn’t apply to him!!!
“But his surname originates from ______” okay but does that matter?
“But he’s wearing a kalari dhoti so surely he’s ______” okay but does that matter?
“But his skin colour is darker so he must be ______” okay but does that matter?
“But he lives in Mumbai so he must be ______” okay but does that matter?
I sound insensitive and brash and annoying and it looks like I’m yapping just for the sake of riling you up, so direct that little burst of anger you got there at me, and keep reading.
Listen. I’m going to ask you a question that I’ve asked myself a million times over. I want you to answer honestly. I want you to ask this question to yourself and answer honestly:
Are you trying to convince me on who Pavitr Prabhakar should be?
... but why shouldn't i?
I’ll tell you this again — I did the same thing. You’re not at fault for this, but I want you to just...have a little think over. Just a little moment of self-reflection, to think about why you are so intent on boxing this guy.
It took me a while to reorganise my thinking and how to best approach a character like Pavitr, so I will give you all the time you need as well as a little springboard to focus your thoughts on.
SPIDER-MAN (INDIA) IS JUST A MASK
“What I like about the costume is that anybody reading Spider-Man in any part of the world can imagine that they themselves are under the costume. And that’s a good thing.”
Stan Lee said that. Remember how he was so intent on making sure that everybody got the idea that Spider-Man as an entity is fundamentally broken without Peter Parker there to put on the suit and save the day? That ultimately it was the person beneath the mask, no matter who they were, that mattered most?
Spider-Man India is no less different. You can argue with me that Peter Parker!Spidey is supposed to represent working class struggles in the face of leering corporate entities who endanger the regular folk like us, and so Pavitr Prabhakar should also function the same way. Pavitr should also be a working class guy of this specific social standing fighting people of this other social standing.
But that takes away the authenticity of Spider-Man India. Looking at him through the Peter Parker lens forces you to look at him through the Western lens, and it significantly lessens what you can do with the character — suddenly, it’s a fight to be heard, to be seen, to be recognised. It’s yelling over each other that Pavitr Prabhakar is this ethnicity, is that caste, this or that, this or that, this or that.
There’s a reason why he’s called Spider-Man India, infuriatingly vague as it is. And that’s the point — the vagueness of his identity fulfils Lee’s purpose for a character that could theoretically be embodied by anyone. If he had been called “Spider-Man Mumbai”, you cut out a majority of the population (and in capitalist terms, you cut out a good chunk of the market).
And in the case of Spider-Man India? Whew — you’ve got about a billion people imagining a billion different versions of him.
Whoever you are, whatever you see in Pavitr, that is what is personal to you, and there is nothing wrong with that, and I will not fault you for it. I will not fault you for saying Pavitr is from Central due to the origins of his last name. I also will not fault you for saying Pavitr is from South due to him practising kalaripayattu. I also will not fault you for saying he is not Hindu. I also will not fault you for saying he is a particular ethnicity without any proof.
What I will fault you for is trying to convince me and the others around you that Pavitr Prabhakar should be this particular ethnicity/have this cultural background because of some specific reason. I literally don’t care and it is fundamentally going against his character, going against the “anyone can wear the mask” sentiment of Spider-Man. By doing this, you are strengthening the walls that first divided us. You’re feeding the stratification and segmentation of our cultures — something that is actually not present in the fictional world of Mumbattan.
Like I said before: Mumbattan isn’t real, so the divides between ethnicities and cultural backgrounds are practically nonexistent. The best thing is that it is visually there for all to see. My favourite piece of evidence is this:
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It’s a marquee for a cinema in the Mumbattan sequence, in the “Quick tour: this is where the traffic is” section. It has four titles; the first two are written in Hindi. The third title is written in Bengali*, and the fourth title is written in Tamil. You go to Mumbai and you won’t see a single shred of Bengali nor Tamil there, much less any other language that's not common in Maharashtra (Western India). Seeing this for the first time, you know what went through my head?
Wow, the numerous cultures of India are so intermingled here in Mumbattan! Everyone and everything is welcome!
I was happy, not just because of Tamil representation, but because of the fact that the plethora of Indian cultures are showcased coexisting in such a short sequence. This is India embracing all the little parts that make up its grander identity. This scene literally opened my eyes seeing such beauty in all the diverse cultures thriving together. In a place where language and cultural backgrounds blend so easily, each one complementing one another.
It is so easy to believe that, from this colourful palette of a setting, Pavitr Prabhakar truly is Spider-Man India, no matter where he comes from.
It’s easy to believe that Pavitr can come from any part of India, and I won’t call you out if the origin you have for him is different from the origin I have. You don’t need to stake out territory and stand your ground — you’re entitled to that opinion, and I respect it. In fact, I encourage it!!!
Because there’s only so much you can show in a ten minute segment of a film about a country that has such a vast history and even greater number of cultures. I want to see all of it — I want him to be a Malayali boy, a Hindi boy, a Bengali boy, a Telugu boy, an Urdu boy, whatever!! I want you to write him or draw him immersed in your culture, so that I can see the beauty of your background, the wonderful little things that make your culture unique and different from mine!
And, as many friends have said, it’s so common for Indian folks to be migrating around within our own country. A person with a Maharashtrian surname might end up living in Punjab, and no one really minds that. I’m actually from Karnataka, my family speaks Kannada, but somewhere down the line my ancestors moved to Tamil Nadu and settled down and lived very fulfilling lives. So I don’t actually have the “pure Tamil” upbringing, contrary to popular belief; I’ve gotten a mix of both Kannada and Tamil lifestyles, and it’s made my life that much richer. 
So it’s common for people to “not” look like their surname, if that’s what you’re really afraid about. In fact, it just adds to that layer of nuance, that even despite these rigid identities between ethnicities we as Indian people still intermingle with one another, bringing slivers of our cultures to share with others. Pavitr could just as well have been born in one state and moved around the country, and he happens to live in Mumbattan now. It’s entirely possible and there’s nothing to disprove that.
We don’t need to clamber over one another declaring that only one ethnicity is the “right” ethnicity, because, again, you will be looking at Pavitr and the rest of India in that narrow Western lens — a country with such rich cultural variety reduced to a homogenous restrictive way of life.
THE POLL: REINTERPRETED
This whole thing started because I was wondering why my little poll was so skewed — I thought people assumed I was asking them where he came from, then paired his physical appearance with the most logical options available. I thought it was my fault, that I had somehow influenced this outcome without knowing.
Truth is, I will never really know. But I will be thankful for it, because it gave me the opportunity to finally broach this topic, something that many of us desi folk are hesitant to talk about. I hope you have learned something from this, whether you are desi or a casual Spider-Man fan or someone who just so happened to stumble upon this. 
So just…be a little more open. Recognise that India, like many many countries and nations, is made up of a plethora of smaller cultures. And remember, if you’re trying to convince Pavitr that he’s a particular ethnicity, he’s going to wave his hand at you and say, “Ha, me? No, I’m one of the people that live here in the best Indian city! I’m Spider-Man India, dost!”
(Regardless, he still considers you a friend, because to him, the people matter more to him than you trying to box him into something he’s not.)
*Note: thank you dear anon for letting me know that the third title was Bengali, twas my mistake for literally completely forgetting
#long post + more tags that kinda spiral away BUT expand on the points above AND kinda puts everything together concisely#BROS THIS IS AN HONEST TO GOD ESSAY#THAT HAS BEEN COOKING IN MY HEART FOR A WHILE NOW. SIMMERING FOR MONTHS BEFORE FINALLY BOILING OVER IN THE LAST WEEK#genuinely hope you read MOST of it because yes it has Quite A Lot Of Exposition but it all matters nonetheless#put in a lot of thought into this so i expect you to do your part and challenge your thoughts as well#you see how i'm not asking for you to listen to me. but to actually Think. i want you to cook your thoughts and add some spice and flavour#and give it a good mix so you can come out of this a little more wiser than before#because!!! yeah!!!! spider man india is just that!! he's indian!!!!! we don't need to collectively agree on where he comes from#bc it gets rid of that relatability factor of spider man. at the most basic level#think of it as a schrodinger's. he is every single culture and none of them at the same time. therefore none of us are wrong!! sick!!!!#pavitr's first priority is making sure HIS PEOPLE are safe. that's probably as far as we can go that relates him back to peter parker spide#he loves his people and working in the name of justice to FIGHT for HIS PEOPLE is just the duty/responsibility he takes up#it makes sense that he loves everyone and every culture he engages with bc that's the nature of spider man i suppose#if peter parker spidey acts as the guardian for the regular folk.. then in my mind pavitr spidey stands as the bridge uniting the people#because society as its core is very fragmented. and having pavitr act as a connection to other folks.... mmmmm beautiful#that's what i'm talking abouttttt !!!#anyways guys this is literally 3001 words on my document EXCLUDING THE TITLE. THAT'S 7 PAGES AT 11pt FONT. i'm literally cryingggg wtf#pavitr prabhakar#spider man#spider man india#desi#desiblr#atsv#across the spiderverse#atsv pavitr#indian culture#india#desi tumblr#what the fuck do i tag this as#agnirambles
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mirrortouchedsea · 2 months ago
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dark. that was all he had ever known. cold, dark, damp. the boy shivers in the small room, painfully alone, only a book and his magic to keep him company. he tries not to use his magic very often, though. it seemed that the people above knew when he used it and they always always always refused to give him food until he “woke up” next, if they bothered to keep track of that. maybe this time he’ll learn their lesson. the boy whispers his spell, cur memini, and creates a small light in his fingers. this is the only spell he can cast safely, too small to be noticeable by the people above. he holds his hand over the fading book on the floor. the boy can’t read the letters on the page, but this book has pictures. he flips through it again, careful of the pages that were falling apart, admiring the figure in armor who always comes to rescue the figure in the tower, cut off from the world, just like him. the boy frequently dreams of a figure in armor coming to save him, despite the years he has spent alone. dark and cold and damp. 
the room the boy lives in, the only room he has memories of, is empty besides himself and the book. sometimes the people above would give him water and stale bread to eat, and then there was a cup and a dirty plate, but otherwise it was just the boy and the book. the boy knows why the people above have locked him away, they told him that he was a freak of nature, unnatural, dangerous. but the boy could only make lights in his palm, and that wasn’t very dangerous at all. he thinks to himself that the people above are the dangerous ones, locking away a child for something like this, but he can’t say that out loud. he doesn’t want to die again. 
the boy’s stomach grumbles and he curls in on himself, the light in his palm fades out. he longs to see the sun again, to play with the other children he can hear through the ceiling, to be normal. the people above must have decided to punish him again, though, as he doesn’t remember the last time he had anything to drink, to eat. his stomach would eat through his skin and he would still wake up the next day. why can’t he just die once and for all and be rid of the pain? why is the world keeping him here? why was he even born?
the boy closes his eyes, and falls asleep. maybe this time it won’t hurt so much. 
--- 
how long has he been here? the boy doesn’t keep track of time. he knows he’s died at least a dozen times, but how long does it take for a dozen lifetimes to pass? 
--- 
a clattering on the floor wakes the boy up. the people above decided he can eat today. stale bread and water again, but better than nothing to the boy. he crawls closer to it, listening to the door. it closes and the voices disappear. where was the sound of the lock? did they forget? 
the boy scarfs down his food and water before tiptoeing up the stairs. he doesn’t hear any voices, but he needs to be careful. he doesn’t remember what the above looks like, but he needs to leave. he needs to be free. 
slowly, quietly, he opens the door. it’s dark on the other side of it, but still much, much brighter than his room ever was. he closes his eyes but keeps the door open. breathe in, and out. opens his eyes again, blinking the brightness away. pushes the door further open. steps on the hard ground outside the door. he’s so close. closes the door quietly. turns around and holds his breath. where was outside? pick a direction and go. his legs hurt. turn the corner, listen for voices. voices are dangerous, get away from the voices. whisper his spell, create a small light. keep moving keep moving keep moving. window ahead. break it? open it? is he strong enough? lift the window up. too weak. voices coming. hurry hurry hurry must get out now. whisper spell again, hand on window. break the glass and jump through it. cuts on feet cuts on legs deal with that later. voices getting louder voices shouting. run run RUN. 
the boy runs away from the building, away from his room. freedom is so close. first get to the trees, then… he hasn’t thought that far, but he will find a way. gunshots from the house. he runs faster, must get to the trees, must hide, must be free. cur memini, he whispers again, crossing into the forest. his spell can make lights and now break windows, but he needs it to protect him at this moment. run run run until the voices are quiet again. his legs are giving out, but he needs to run. he can’t die now or they’ll find him. keep running. bare feet on sticks and stones and sharp things, everything hurts but he can’t stop. he keeps running until the sun comes up. his heart beats out of his chest. 
--- 
when he wakes up he doesn’t know how much time has passed. his heart beats fast and he sits up. did they find him? he looks around. trees, rocks, a gurgling stream. he’s free. he’s free. he sighs and lays back down. how far did he run? he needs to go further. away from other people, away from anyone who might lock him up again. he sits up again and forces himself to stand and walk towards the sound of the stream. he can start there. water is important, and he might be able to get food from the little stream too. 
his first drink of the stream water is icy cold, quenching his lifelong thirst in just a few swallows. he washes his face with it, removing years of sweat and grime. he wants to sit by the stream forever if only he could, but the people will find him eventually if he doesn’t keep moving. but he allows himself a few minutes to bathe in the water, savoring the feeling of water on his skin. his stomach still growls, wanting something more filling than the freezing water of the stream, but that would have to wait. he needs to get his bearings. 
the light of the outside world is almost blinding, he realizes. the sun and the snow made it almost impossible to see anything. he should get up above the trees. can he even do that? cur memini, he says, trying to get his voice to be louder than a whisper. his feet float a few inches above the ground. he closes his eyes and says his spell again with more conviction. Cur Memini. he feels himself shooting into the air before he opens his eyes. he can see the forest stretch out for miles around him. trees covered in snow in every direction. if the old house is behind him, he should fly straight ahead, towards the forests on the mountains. tentatively, he leans forward and focuses his magic on keeping himself afloat. 
it doesn’t take much to exhaust what little magic he has, but he’s put more distance between himself and the old house and the people above now. he should be safe to rest, truly rest. but first he should find something to eat. is there anything to eat out here? something in his head tells him to look a little closer to the ground. to his left. there’s a bush full of berries. he’s never had anything but stale bread, and doesn’t know what to expect as he crushes one with his teeth. 
the sensation overtakes him for a brief moment. the berry is sweet, yet tart, and delicious. it’s the best thing he’s ever eaten and he thanks the little voice in his head for the information as he picks several more berries from the bush. the juice runs down his chin and makes him sticky, but it feels good. he feels truly alive for the first time. 
once he’s finished picking the bush clean of its fruits, he needs to find a place to rest, to stay warm. he’s shivering in the intense cold of the north, but it’s nothing he isn’t used to. the room was never very warm after all. he listens to the little voices calling out to him, guiding him towards a small cave, instructing him on how to make a small fire to warm himself up. a small rabbit brushes against his leg and he swears one of the voices is coming from it. and with the fire going, he thanks the rabbit before it hops away back into the snow. he would be roasting that same rabbit over the fire a few months later. 
the boy can’t stay in the cave forever though. as days turn to weeks turn to months, he worries that the people above are getting closer to him. they’ll put him back in that cold, dark, damp room again. he needs to keep moving. he has been practicing his magic, casting stronger spells, and he needs to be ready to fly. it's been long enough. cur memini he says holding his hand out. a rough stick with twigs tied to the end flies into his hand. it’s a poor excuse for what he understands is a broom, but it will work. he climbs onto it and focuses. cur memini cur memini cur memini. he lifts off the ground and watches as the branches of the trees get shorter and eventually he passes above the treetops. 
he takes a moment to gather his bearings. he no longer remembers the direction the house was in, but going up is his best bet of staying away from the people above. he laughs, realizing that he is the one above them now. after a moment, he flies into the mountains. the small voices change into bigger, unfamiliar ones as he gets further into the mountain range. they tell him to hide, to stay away. he doesn’t listen. they cannot be more dangerous than the humans he is running from. 
the boy lands, still exhausted from using so much magic, but he was able to travel further this time. that has to count for something, surely. he gathers some sticks and looks for another cave to make his home in. the caves remind him too much of the room he left, so he chooses to stay close to the entrance, close to the light that reminds him he is free. the fire keeps the animals away, but the voices are curious about the new presence in their woods. they make him curious too. he should stay in the cave tonight though and regain his energy. maybe he can get some small game to fill his stomach before settling in for the night. he listens for a rabbit’s voice, or maybe a squirrel, anything that would be small enough to kill with his hands. 
at last, a small fox’s voice is heard nearby. he wonders if fox will taste different from the other game he’s eaten thus far. he lifts a hand-sized rock and slinks out of the cave towards the voice. it takes a few minutes to find the source, but the fox is curled under a tree, shivering, hungry, just like him. the boy hesitates before bludgeoning it and slinging the corpse over his shoulders. there are more foxes. he is much more important. 
the fox is only the first animal he hunts in those mountainous woods. he spends several years in that forest and eventually humans settle up there as well. the boy, or rather, the man now, has made a name for himself amongst the human populations of the north. he is no longer afraid of humans capturing him and locking him up. they are still terrified of him, but now he is in control of that terror. the hunters that left his territory alive whispered tales of the great wizard owen who inhabited the mountains and terrorized anyone who had the bad luck of running into him. 
all of this is perfectly fine with owen. eventually his reputation will grow beyond himself, encapsulating atrocities that were impossible for even someone as strong as oz to commit, but that would be a problem for future owen. for now, he is still young and living in his cave on the outskirts of a small village and scaring hunters who stray too far from their boundaries. the wolves don’t like these visitors either and gladly listen to owen’s lamentations. it keeps his hands clean of the bloodshed if he isn’t casting the spell himself. the wolves don’t care for owen either, but they respect him. and that is enough for owen. 
the first of the unwanted visitors was a young man, someone who wanted to provide for his family. he pleaded with owen and the wolves to let him go and he wouldn’t cause any problems. those pleas fell on deaf ears though as owen looked the man in the eyes. won’t your family be disappointed, he asked almost innocently, you don’t have anything to show for your efforts. the man stammered a response, they’d rather i come back alive with nothing than die trying to find food. is that so, owen reached out for the man’s chin, the distance between their faces was almost nothing. y-yes, sir, please just let me go and i won’t bother you anymore. owen grinned. oh i’m sure you won’t be causing us any trouble again. the wolves stalked out of the woods, drooling at the prospect of tearing a piece of that man for themselves. owen snapped his fingers, and they came running forward, only to stop mere inches from the now trembling man. there was a suspicious yellow stain in the snow beneath him. p-p-please sir, anything you ask, it’s yours! then make sure you tell the rest of your little village that this forest belongs to the great wizard owen. the man ran off, leaving behind a hunting rifle and a ratty sack. the rifle would be of use, but the sack became tinder for his fires. 
despite the warning from that first man, hunters continued to enter into owen’s territory. and one after the other, they ran off screaming with their tails between their legs. this should have annoyed owen, that people would ignore all of the warnings and stories that had started popping up about him, but it doesn’t. their fear feeds into his magic power, only making him stronger, and that is all fine with owen. he is no longer a weak child locked in the damp, dark basement, and he never will be again. 
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magnapanther · 1 year ago
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FINISHED WORK?? on MY page??? it's far less likely than you'd think. and yet, somehow, here we are. :D
(well, finished enough to post and call "done", i should say. i may yet meddle with some details when i inevitably notice ten more flaws immediately after posting :D)
good old moss knight, such a devout follower of big slug. surely no wandering knight would ever end such a noble creature's life before he had the chance to speak with a certain fellow at a nearby bench! :D
this was essentially just me testing the waters with digital after some time avoiding it, and especially colours/lighting. it's been a while since i actually tried to make something fully fleshed out like this. i don't know, i feel like it could have come out worse :)
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icewindandboringhorror · 30 days ago
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Recent images I suppose ~
#First one is THE LONG series of GEESE that fly by!!! my aforementioned friends... Or I think I referenced them in tags of some post#days ago. and how I love watching them. See how many there are? And multiple of these will go by. It's like hundreds of them.#Then just the sky because I love the sky. My hair looking ridiculous as it always does when I brush it out of the four big braids I always#keep it in to keep it out of the way lol. I just find it silly how small it can be all braided up and then as soon as it is Released and#combed then it poofs into some sort of swamp dwelling wizard style.#Then... a daily word count... have been so busy the past week that I sadly haven't written much but I'm WORKING on it. Still on the blasted#'odd jobs' tasks sections which were SUPPOSED to be very quick and short. but.. alas.. Though I am on basically the last one. You go work#for one of the enchanting specialists in the city (very important in society since a majority of people cannot do that type of magic) and#basically he just works so much he has no time for a social life so he hires random people to sit with him in the afternoons doing menial#tasks. You show up thinking you'll help with some Important Job or something but hes just like 'no... peel this apple for me.. :)' lol#Edit note: arrgh just had to fish a slippery avocado pit out of a narrow garbage disposal drain with a chopstick. felt like some#sort of taskmaster challenge or something.. gods... I know some people just reach into them. I guess maybe#my hand would fit?? but... erm... scary. what about Sharp Things in there or something.. also Sludge of some sort perhaps.#ANWYAY.. interruption... I got up to go to the kitchen in the middle of typing my tags... lol..#Next image is SLEEPING boye.. And then PIGEONS!!!!!!!!!! my beloveds...#Oh then the giant evil hole in my bathroom ceiling which is STILL not fixed and the repair people still have to come back again.. BUT they#did have this terrible industrial dehumidifier thing they put in the bathroom and just left here for like 5 days and it was like a noisy#hairdryer going at all times and raised the heat in the bathroom from 65F to 76F in like two hours so.. I'm glad at least at their#last arrival they've finally taken it away.... the Noise Beast... silence in my house at last...#though I am still plagued by Mysterious Hole.. the plastic wrap rustles sometimes when I'm in there.... go away...#Ah. Then a delightful little lemon poppyseed muffin someone didn't want and then gave to me. Which was interesting since I haven't#had one in soooo long even though its like a very Classic Flavor.. I do quite like them though now that I've had one again. :0c#Lastly.. mushrooms. I think it's the mushroom season here. Everywhere you go outside there's some new manner of fungus#having popped up from nowhere. I like the variety of all their little shapes. These in particular have an interesting wispy curled layers#sort of look to them. Almost like a shaggy hairstyle that's curled up at the ends or something. They seem neat to draw perhaps.#Okay.. that is all.. I still have literally like 2 costumes and 12 outfits and I think 1 sculpture? to post.. but I am so busy this is#what I can manage for now I suppose lol... quick pictures that don't really take any sorting or cropping or editing lol#photo diary
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