#he commiserates his loses and he’s wrong

[yesterdayiwrote]

George’s tweet is STILL full of those ‘fans’ in the QTs sending him abuse? Like Jesus fucking Christ what do you want from the guy at this point?

[silkenwinger]

cherry

mdni. one sided enemies to lovers (?) konig x reader. 5k something. part two here

You wish he would just disappear. That some way or another, you could get him out of your hair. Sure, there’s always leaving your job, but that’s not really convenient, is it.

You wish he was outright antagonistic, mean or just an asshole. Someone who abuses his power over underlings. A self centered idiot who can only think with his dick, who gets other people in danger for his pride.

Yet he’s none of that, and you have to cope with it. Which you are unable to do.

“This fucking thing— ugh!” Snarls Roze, still trying to set up the new tent as shown in the diagram. It falls over with a soft thump and she kicks it again.

“These have to be the wrong instructions,” you tell her, turning around the leaflet. You’ve been at it for more than half an hour now, and they usually don’t take this long. Still, better the dryness of the desert to find out there’s been a manufacturing mishap than pouring rain. KorTac has deployed you here before, which is why you know you can’t just wing it and sleep outside. The night chill is unbearable.

“C’mon. Let me try,” says Horangi, holding out an arm. For all his male pride, he comes to the same conclusion as you and Roze. You’re collectively scratching your heads when a shadow falls over you.

“What is the issue?” König asks, hands on his hips and sun behind him, like some sort of Superman figure. Ugh.

“It’s not setting up.”

“Let me see.” He grabs the leaflet from Horangi’s hands, looks at it for fifteen long seconds, returns it to him and crouches down to pick at the tent. It’s odd, seeing such a big man working on something small. Comical, you’d say.

He sets it up in seven minutes (timed), but admits the instructions could be clearer and less misleading. He rises up and claps his hands on his thighs.

“I used to do a lot of camping, ah-ha,” he says, thumbing at his stupid hood.

“Well, thank you König. We would be sleeping outside without you,” says Roze.

“Yeah man, thanks,” Horangi adds.

You can feel his eyes on you. Those blue eyes, always in such weird expressions. Maybe you would read him more easily if he didn’t have the mask. You don’t care anyway. You muster a little smile so you don’t read as completely sociopathic to the whole group, and he seems happy enough. But you’re not satisfied with him being the hero of the night.

“Camping, uh? Wasn’t it hard, with your height and all?” It’s meant to be a jab to his clear struggles with his size. Something that only really shows outside of the battlefield, you have to admit.

“No, not really. Eh, my parents are tall as well, we would always buy big tents. With friends… a bit. I slept outside once.” His voice is shy revealing this. From previous conversations, you know he wasn’t the most sociable boy in his school. Neither were you but you didn’t end up wearing odd masks.

The normal reaction would be to commiserate him, coddle him for the harsh events of his youth. You’re incapable of that.

“Must have been a pretty clear cut decision from all the others.”

You can feel the side-eye from Roze and Horangi through your head.

“Ahah, yes it was… I was taking two whole spaces for myself…” he says, sounding a bit sad and lost in memories.

“That’s not going to happen now, this is pretty roomy,” interrupts Horangi, and your session of tormenting your team leader is abruptly brought to an end. Pity, but maybe it’s better to keep this a little more private.

“Dibs on the first watch!” Roze yells, and you groan. She always gets it before anyone else!

König, Horangi and you play rock scissor paper to decide the other turn. You lose first and you pout slightly: you hate second watch more than anything. Shaking it off, you start to head to the side, but you're stopped by an arm in front of you.

“We can switch. If you want,” says König, who got the third watch. You crook an eyebrow at him. Does he think you're unprofessional, that you can't even do your job? The fucking gall.

“No thanks. I don’t need handouts,” you turn your nose up. Horangi scoffs, which makes you turn to glare at him. König has no real reaction, just murmurs something between himself. This time you really leave.

Hour later, peaking your head out of the tent door, you shiver at the difference in temperature. You hate missions without safe houses…

“Ah, nice. Slept well?” Greets Roze when she sees you. You shake your head.

“More of a nap than a night’s rest,” you sigh as you turn to sit down next to her. You suppose she’s not really sleepy, but anyway, you enjoy her company.

“Hey,” she calls your name. You hum to show her you’re paying attention.

“You know I respect you. You’re a great fighter,” you preen at that, “but what is up with that?” Your face falls at that.

“What are you talking about?”

“You and König, c’mon. You’re bullying the guy! And I’m always in favor of mistreating men, but then he doesn’t fight back at all, and it’s just pathetic to watch. What even is the satisfaction in that?” She sounds genuinely baffled. Panic rises in you: you never actually thought you’d get cornered like this.

“He irks me, okay?” You try to justify yourself as you shift in your seat. You haven’t really interrogated much on why you feel this way. You figured it was just a normal reaction to König himself, and everyone was just better at hiding it.

“Irks you… yeah, he isn’t the smoothest guy or anything, but you’d think he was Satan the way you describe him. He really just fights, eats, sleeps and talks with you and Horangi.” She sits with that for a moment and just looks at you, really looks at you. “Maybe you’ve got something going on, I think he’s quite fond of you actually.”

“Fond of me… Roze, what the fuck are you going on about?” You exclaim, on edge. It’s far too late (or early?) to really express yourself in any way that makes sense. “He probably feels the same way I do about him, which is annoyance. He can’t be that thick not to realize I’m being antagonistic.”

“Hmm, if you say so.” She gets up and pats your shoulder, tiredness showing up in her limbs. “It’s not really my business. See you tomorrow,” she waves as she enters the tent, dismissively. It’s like she saw you being too defensive and thought you were a lost cause…

Your watch is uneventful and boring and cold and you can’t stop thinking about what Roze told you. Recounting your experiences with König, you think back to the first time you met. It stings to say it, but you’d felt intimidated, shaking the hand of a man almost feet taller than you, clad in an executioner hood. His hand was a bit cold and clammy, which was in contrast with his appearance. The way he shook your hand was unusual too. Men in the military are quick to establish dominance– the sadistic ones grip women’s hands so hard, it almost feels like they’re trying to strangle them. König’s handshake was delicate, and his eyes were oddly wide. Far from what imagination could conjure about his figure.

Starting from when you were put under his command, you’d seen König make an ass out of himself pretty often. Never on the battlefield– he was akin to a god on there, his strides decisive, his bullets accurate, and his violence lavish. For that alone you’d never send in a request to change teams: you know what you leave but you don’t know what you’re going to find. The issues with König lay in that creepy high pitched tone of voice he has sometimes while narrating stories, or the way he appears to have zero space awareness while moving around base. You witnessed him hitting his head or side on door frames far too many times for comfort. In some ways, it kinda killed the respect you could have for him as a leader. But then you’d watch him clear a room in a few bloody seconds, and you’d have to give it to him again. Unfortunately. But it’s now apparent that you can’t cling to any justification that will make sense to other people without you sounding completely out of your mind or like a bitch. Which you can be.

Checking your watch, it’s indeed time to go back to sleep. König hasn’t shown up by himself, the oaf, so you need to go wake him up. Ugh…

Crouching, you enter the tent. Horangi is still snoring away, thankfully not too loudly. You get on your knees to move more quietly and crawl your way to the horizontal column on the back. It’s hard to see well in the darkness, but König feels oddly still in his cot. You’d think he trashed around in his sleep like he does when awake.

Once you reach him, you touch his shoulder, murmuring his callsign not too loudly. No reaction. You do it again, this time a bit stronger, and he still doesn’t wake up beside grumbling some incomprehensible gibberish. Already irritated, you grab him by both shoulders and shake him alright. You realize you’ve made a mistake only when your arms are being coiled by something so tight you think your blood flow has stopped. Loud breathing can be heard in the closeness of the space�� it is right in front of you.

“König,” you whisper, “it’s me. I’ve come to wake you up.” If there’s any fear in your voice you hope your disgust still dominates it.

“Scheiße– sorry,” he says, voice thick with sleep, and you think he blinks or starts to understand where you two are. You relax a bit in his hold, shifting on your folded legs, and he finally realizes he’s still holding you.

“I’m sorry, sorry. I was dreaming,” his hands brush the sides of your arms before releasing you, as if appeasing a dog he accidentally stepped on. You scowl. He finally starts to move and sits up, his torso an even darker mountain in the obscurity.

“Are you going to sleep here?” He asks, voice high pitched, you’d say almost nervous as you move closer and don’t retreat to the other side of the tent. Your scowl gets deeper.

“I’m already here and they’re all the same size,” you say, taking your place in the cot. It’s comfortably tepid, to your pleasure. “It’s warm, too. You can sleep on mine when you’re done.” Considering the affair over, you bring the cover over your body and settle down. It smells a bit like him.

König is still crouching next to you: other than his breath, you can tell he’s there by the noise of his nails scratching up and down on his pants. Still not hearing him move, you raise your head.

“Aren’t you going outside?” Your tone could be meaner and more acidic, but drowsiness softens you, too.

“Yes… I’m going…” He sounds uncharacteristically reluctant, like he wants to oppose but knows he can’t. What, is watch duty too common for your team leader? You tut and turn over, and finally you hear him put his gloves on and walk outside.

You wake up to the sound of people speaking some hours after. Sighing, you get up, stretching away the ache from basically sleeping on the ground. It takes you a second to understand you’re not in your own bed and you’re in König’s instead. Getting up, you grab your utilities from your bed and exit the tent. In the makeshift camp, you see Roze and Horangi chattering away with instant coffee cups, and König working on his rifle. Roze sends you a charged look, to which you reply with a confused expression.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty. That your new callsign?” She pokes at you, laughing.

You groan and walk over the coffee pot.

“Why didn't you wake me up?”

She shrugs, turning over in her thermal jacket. “We don’t have to be there before oh nine hundred. You can sleep on company time,” she finishes her coffee, throws the cup away and enters the tent again to dress up. You bite your lower lip and pour some for yourself, casually glancing over your male teammates. Horangi is just hovering, no doubt done with his preparations since he’s been awake for longer. König is still cleaning his rifle, and he hasn’t spared you a glance. You decide to fix that.

“You want to clean it so hard you can look at yourself during fights?” Snickering, you come up behind him. König slightly jumps, his hands clutching the rifle hard in order for it not to fall.

“Ahah, it was a bit filthy from yesterday. But now it’s clean,” he puts it down gently and carefully, always careful around guns. You look at him from behind your coffee cup. As always, it’s hard to tell what he’s feeling with the mask in the way, but he’s being particularly evasive today. To the point he hasn’t even looked you in the eye yet. Still, he turns to face you.

“What’s up with you today?” You ask him. You’re used to seeing him a little less down. If he isn’t feeling well, it could turn massively bad for all involved.

“Nothing. I hope the mission goes well.” He sounds more sure now. You shrug. His body moves as he stands up, and as always it unsettles you. But you refuse to address whatever that means, so you reply nonchalantly, “It seems pretty straightforward.”

“Ja…” He shuffles over his feet. You lean a bit over, wondering if he has anything else to say. He doesn’t, but he finally looks you in the eye: you keep looking at each other until Horangi speaks out of the blue and says it’s time to move. You turn abruptly and go join Roze in the tent.

It could have been over in a second. The building you were meant to go in, or what remains of it, has been reduced to a pile of burning debris, explosives turning it outside down. And you would have been none the wiser as it’d turn your guts out, too.

“Holy shit,” you whisper, and Horangi next to you urges you to move along, to follow König. König, who was the one to actively tell you and Horangi to not split from his command. You’d cringed, but followed him anyway, unkeen to disobey, and Horangi always listens to König anyway. And now you were alive because of a decision König made. Again.

Another successful assignment from KorTac. Please feel free to contact us again for any inquiry.

Looking outside the helo, you observe the silent dunes you’ve just left.

This always happens, you reason. Someone has a hunch. Another got a call from his grandma telling him not to go. You dream of a different path from the one that you’re supposed to take.

Why is König so good at this? It’s good that he’s good at this. You’d be missing your limbs otherwise. He sits across from you, knees brushing with yours. His eyes are glazed over, drowsy, hands folded together. An innocent visage, if one discards the blood over his clothes.

Ire crashes over you like waves. This fumbling man, almost stuck eternally in his adolescent, awkward state, is fucking great at his job. Far better than you could ever hope to be. Not only is he genetically built for hard conditions, but he’s also gifted with a natural sense for the battlefield and military tactics.

You’ve been thinking about him far too much lately. Looking at his back, at his incredibly toned legs. Torn between the long lasting distaste you’ve had for him and… whatever admiration you begrudgingly hold for him.

A light turns on in your mind.

That makes sense.

The Hungarian base is one of KorTac’s smallest. It’s usually bare from anything but the basic necessaries, and it has very few permanent workers. It’s the same case this time. The four of you and the pilot walk in a ghost town. One worker greets you like he had no idea you were even supposed to land there. They need to stop firing communication people in this company.

“König,” you muster a sweet tone, fighting the bile that comes up in your throat. König turns from walking with the others to face you, immediately alert.

“Can we go… somewhere private?” He freezes for a second, and then nods, eyes a bit wary. Fine. You honestly thought he’d be more hesitant. Maybe Roze does have a point.

You walk for a bit side to side and then open a random room in the corridor, furnished with just a long table and a number of chairs not appropriate for its length. You close the door and stand there, deciding you’re not going to sit. Yet?

Fuck, you don’t actually know how to go about this.

“So,” you start, “how do you think we’ve been getting along?” You ask, trying to test the waters.

“Ehm. Pretty good, I’d say,” he replies, accent thicker than usual. Your doe-like expression immediately changes to a skeptic one. You tilt your head, calculating.

“You don’t think I treat you a bit differently than the rest of our teammates?”

He looks around, like he knows this question is a trap. You’d be more annoyed if it wasn’t so fun to have him all for yourself to tease.

“I think we are friends… you get along more with Roze, but still…” He fidgets at his missing belt loop. Ah, goddamn, that’s another stupid thing about him, why can’t he put a belt on properly?

“Friends? We are friends to you?” You ask, tone clearly disbelieving.

“Yes… are we not…?” König’s voice is a whisper now, insecurity leaking over and filling the whole room. Oh Jesus. Now you really feel like a middle school bully.

“I think… that I kind of have a problem with you, König…” You tell him, weirdly meek. There’s no other way to go about it. You wish he had the same mixed feelings you obviously hold for him, but instead his are tragically simple and gentle minded… What a contrast from the cold, calculating man that saved your life this morning.

“What problem?”

“Nothing really… it’s just that you distract me… a little too much.”

“Distract you like how? Is it something I do?”

“Yes, but you can’t change anyway,” you confess. And, deep inside you, you don’t want him to change. Part of the reason you can’t stand König, after all, is how he embodies some part of you— the one not carefully curated to be as badass and hardhearted as possible, but one that instead just is, even if it’s uncool. You’ve desperately tried to hide it all this time, convinced it could only hinder you in your career– and then König shows up, and not only is he one of the best soldiers you’ve met in your life, but he’s also unapologetically himself all the time. And it doesn’t stop him from achieving anything.

This plan is stupid anyway. König doesn’t seem to be the man who agrees to casual sex. Hell, sometimes it doesn’t seem like he’s even aware of the concept.

“Maybe I’m the one that has to change teams… If we just can’t find a solution to this problem of mine…” This is bait: you could be more explicit, but maybe you really do need to change teams. You can’t be consumed by thoughts of your team leader, it’s just embarrassing. This sexual attraction (but also resentment) you hold for König can’t have you zone out in an active combat zone.

“No!” He says, voice loud and clear, his tone filled with panic. “Please… I…”

“You what?”

“I… I like you.” He confesses, eyes low. His hands are trembling a little.

Five seconds pass before you elaborate a reply to that.

“König, I treat you like shit!” The exclamation probably surprises you more than it does him.

“S-So?” He pants, what little of eyebrows you can see low, pupils dilated only a slight blue circle remains of his irids.

“So? How low is your confidence to like me when I insult you all the time?” You hiss, mere centimeters away from his face. How bad have his relationships with people been so far if he considers you a person worth liking?

You lower your eyes and see that his knees are bent in order to be closer to your height. If your mind wasn’t already made up, this would be the turning point. He follows your gaze down his body with his eyes and whimpers when your eyes lock on his bulge. Your little stress problem is going to get solved alright.

“You like me? Alright. We can go there, if you want. But remember, this is for me and my problem. Got it?” You point at his chest and he nods frantically at that, like he can’t believe this is really happening.

“Fine then. Take off your clothes.” You order, taking a step back and leaning your back on the absurdly long table. You’d make him remove his mask, but that feels like an additional step in intimacy you’re not sure you can ask of a man you claim to hate to the majority of people you know. And, most of all, you can’t force him. You’re out of bitterness for the day. It doesn’t mean that you’ll make it easy for him, though.

König clutches at his pants, taking one long leg out and then the other, remaining in his standard boxers, erection barely hidden behind them. He then moves to his jacket, which he drops to the ground, and then his compression shirt– his pecs are reddened by the blush you’re sure covers his whole neck and face. Your hand points down, and König immediately drops to the ground, so you can beckon him over with a slight gesture. He crawls over to you, stopping right in front of your booted feet.

You deeply enjoy ordering him around, so why stop now.

“Unhook my pants,” you tell him, “but don’t remove my panties yet.” He nods and brings his trembling hands to your belt, undoing it faster than expected, to then lower your pants to your ankles so he can move more comfortably between your legs.

“König,” you call out his name.

“Hmm?” he purrs, barely taking away his eyes from your clothed pussy. You think he’s been getting progressively closer.

“What are we going to do… with your mask?”

“Don’t worry,” he raises a thumbs up, like a huge fucking loser that you’re somehow attracted to, “I can manage.”

“Well then, manager,” you snark, irritated once again, “proceed. Eat me out.” He takes one hand off your leg to uncover his lower face– you only see a flash of it before it is hidden to you again.

He digs in, at first sniffing you, and then licking you through the cotton of your underwear. The warmth of his body is scorching in the chill air of the unused room. His tongue diligently brushes against your clit and slit until your gusset is soaked, and only then he moves them to the side to make direct contact with your pussy. You hiss as your elbow falls down on the table, your legs now spread open even further as he sucks on your clit. Apparently he does know what sex is.

“Can I use my fingers? Please?” He looks up, hood now covering him completely again.

“Hm… let me think on it…” you pretend to really ponder on it, and you see his eyes get bigger and wetter.

“Please!” he begs again.

“Alright, go ahead big guy,” you decide to throw in a compliment for his begging. After all, he’s being quite good. So much for the strict dominance.

His finger penetrates your entrance slowly at first, maybe afraid of going too fast. He takes his sweet time exploring, seeing which movements or spots really make you welp.

“Don’t get distracted now,” you tell him, kicking him lightly on his back with your heel. This is about you, not his curiosity. He straightens his back and starts licking you again, eager and enthusiastic. To think you’ve been just boiling over in your anger when you could have made good use of him.

You can feel your climax readily rising up, spurred by König’s slobbering care. Your hand reaches to keep him closer to you, and you think you can almost feel his hair under the hood. Longer than you expected. The mounting sensation and heat comes to a high and you come, strangled moan and head thrown on the table. König keeps licking and fingering you until you forcibly tear him apart from your pussy.

After the momentary bliss, there’s a moment there when you think about what you’re doing. If this is simply about getting off, the encounter can end here, even though you could be more satisfied. You’re not sure it’s only about that, though. König is panting in front of you when you raise your head, calm besides his breathing. You look at the sheer size of him, and think of his selflessness and his patience dealing with you. And then you look down at the stain of precum on his briefs and go what the hell, sure.

“Can I touch you?” You ask him, but before you can even finish the question he’s already saying yes yes yes.

Your hand brushes his bulge and he jolts, toes high. You scoff a little, entertained by his always so vivid reactions. When you take his impressive cock out, you give it an experimental jerk and see him jump even higher.

“God, König, keep it together, will you now?” You laugh derisively at him, to which he just grumbles a bit sadly.

“What do you want, huh? Want me to jerk you off? Want to fuck me?” You ask teasingly, getting even closer to his masked face and stroking his cock. Once again, he just mumbles. The still unresolved irritation rears its ugly head, and after squeezing his head until he yelps you let go of him.

“I’m not going to do anything if you don’t tell me. I’ve had it with your mumbling,” you snarl and cross your arms. König’s entire body animates and tightens at his panic, and his arms leave his sides to tentatively reach out to you.

“Y-You can do whatever you want to me.”

“Pathetic answer. Pick something, or I’m getting out of here and leaving you hard and leaking.” He finishes reaching out then, and grabs your hips softly, almost as if afraid of hurting you. One of your legs snakes around his.

“I want…” He starts, unsure and twitchy.

“You want?” You encourage him, squeezing his arm not so gently.

“... to fuck you.” He whispers, ashamed. You laugh in his face. He must come from a different planet, a different universe altogether. How can a man of his size be so submissive? It feels like an impossible combination, but you’re not complaining.

“Go ahead, then,” you tell him sweetly, and he nods only once this time, decisive. He grabs his dick then and reaches your entrance. Both of you are so soaked it’s almost effortless: his cock fills you and more, to the point the last inch of him takes more time and care. But you can almost feel him in your guts due to his length. König groans when settles inside you, and moves his arms to hold you in a lover’s embrace. You can feel his ragged breath next to your ear. A bit baffled, you move your arms to hold him too. The smell you inhale is the same you felt last night, so utterly him.

“Alright?” You whisper next to his ear, the soft brush of his hood on your cheek.

“Perfect… so hot…” he replies, squeezing you even harder. You sputter a bit at that, not expecting it, but squeeze back.

“You can start moving now.”

His first thrusts are uncertain and slow. You caress his mighty back to encourage him, and then your hand goes lower and you grab a handful of that ass. He gasps and you laugh again.

“You’re so big,” you tell him, “I don’t know how you even fit in me.” He straight up moans then, and drives so hard in you he almost knocks the wind out of you. Feeling him get more desperate, you sneak a hand between you to brush at your clit, helping yourself get there. König rushes when he feels you get tighter, and you have to hush him to calm him down.

“Just a bit more,” you tell him, “resist a bit more.” He just heaves as an answer.

He keeps a good pace, not too slow or too rushed, but when he starts jamming a little you know he’s close. He calls out your name, tone worried.

“I’m about to…” You grab him by the neck then, at least what you can hold, and he stills, in what is no doubt a great exercise of restraint. The torture could go on for longer, but all things considered he’s endured enough from you. Somewhere along the way this has stopped being about you and your problem, and has begun to be his as well.

“Let’s do it together,” you just whisper as you let go of him, hand going back to touch yourself. He mewls, this big puppy of a man, and you moan when his cock hits that special spot inside you. You come again, locking your legs around his waist, and he stutters and groans as he releases inside you, nosing at your neck. You swear you can feel his cum spilling out.

The two of you lay there for a moment, or two, or three. König’s face is still hidden in your neck, his back no doubt uncomfortable. He mouths something against your neck you don’t know how to decipher. Slowly, and reluctantly, you push at his shoulders. He rises then, and you immediately miss his heat and the feel of his body caging you in. Worst of all is when he takes his cock out of you– the gaping feeling is unbearable, coldness of the air hitting directly your tender core. König is looking at you like he doesn’t know what to do, which is exactly the case. You’re not so sure yourself. It’s the first time you sleep with a coworker you have a complicated relationship with.

“There’s the debrief…” you tell him, unconvinced. He knocks his head up, like you just reminded him, woken him from a spell.

You put your pants back on while König redresses. Looking at him, as those big muscles move and flex, you feel your desire for him rise again, but you’ve been gone for long enough. Roze and Horangi will already be suspicious.

Before you exit the room, you grab König by the arm. He takes a step closer to you, and you flex a bit on your toes to look at him in the eyes better. Moving your hand, you tenderly touch his face. He closes his eyes.

“König… you can’t let yourself be bullied all the time,” you brush his cheek through the mask and he leans on your hand.

“But I like when you tease me,” he says, head bowed. You giggle a bit at that.

“Then only I can do it, okay?”

He nods. You swear you can feel his smile through the cheap cotton of his mask.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Your Touch Builds a Bonfire - A John Shelby/Reader One Shot Story.

Just a bit of John smut for my lovelies on this cold Saturday night! Enjoy, darlings :)

Words - 1,810

Warnings - Spicy smut below the cut, minors DNI!

The way he twirls a pencil between his fingers, watching how the phalanges bend so effortlessly has you in a trance. How he makes a teacup look so small in his grasp. How the veins in the back of his hands bulge when he flexes a hand in his hair, usually when something has frustrated him to the point of anger.  

When he notices you watching, though, that fiery temper of his never fails to cool.  

He knows how much you desire him. He sees it, he’s been waiting for you to make a move, seeing how far he can go in pushing you with little instances of tease. He always finds some way to lightly touch you, whether emphasising a point, sweeping a stray few strands of hair behind your ear, or brushing fallen eyelashes from your cheek, he finds a way.  

You want his hands on you in much finer detail, though. It’s only because he’s your boss and you’re scared to lose your job that you haven’t acted upon it, just in case you’re wrong. It makes you tingle to the tips of your ears, imagining giving him the come on only for him to stare at you incredulously and state that you are mistaken over his intentions.  

Leaving your daydream behind, you turn your attention back to the typewriter ahead of you, the chaos of the bookmaker's offices soon beginning to swirl as the races kick off at various locations around the country. By the end of the day, the final race leaving the men cleared from the space to go and either celebrate or commiserate their wins or losses at the local boozer, you are still at your typewriter, John across the space at his desk, scribbling in the ledger.  

You see him exit his seat without a word, leaving the room, your fingers tapping the final letters upon the page you need his signature upon, pulling it from the typewriter and gently shaking it to dry the ink. Placing it down, you see an arm reach over your shoulder, a whiskey placed upon your desk.  

“Worked hard today, you did,” he speaks, nodding to the glass as you turn to look up at him. “I ain’t in the mood for the pub, but I am in the mood for a few drinks with my favourite.”  

He winks, and heat prickles your cheeks, busying yourself with picking up the drink and taking a big sip, attempting to bolster your confidence a little. It’s what you want, but oh! How the man makes you nervous!  

He’s too gorgeous for his own bloody good.  

“Well, since your other favourite was disappointing today, I can scarcely blame you.”  

He grins, chuckling into his glass. “Yeah, you’re much less trouble than a thoroughbred with the desire to throw his fucking jockey.” He shakes his head, sinking the rest of his drink. “Bloody animal.” He reaches for the bottle he brought with him, refilling his glass, topping yours off too. “You’re still trouble, though.”  

Your face mirrors the confusion his statement makes you feel. “I am?” 

“Oh ar, love. Definitely.”  

Your heart hammers with nervous excitement, taking a long sip of the whiskey before replying. “Why is that?”   

“Because short of diving on you, I dunno what the fuck else I’m meant to do to show you how much I want to take you to bed. If we even got that far. Believe me, I want you so badly, I’d settle for tearing off all your clothes and bouncing you on my cock while sitting in a chair down here.”  

Oh god. There they are, his intentions, delivered with every ounce of cocky confidence you should have known would leak out eventually after his tentative flirtations thus far. John Shelby can only be gentlemanly for so long, though.  

It’s time to cease the wallflower routine.  

Standing up, you don’t take your eyes off him for a long, long moment, the weight of your mutual stare enough to crack the floor below as you gesture to the seat you rose from. “I think we were the wrong way round for that to happen.”  

His mouth curls into a smirk, finishing his drink and placing the glass down, seating himself. You move to him, excitement whizzing through your tummy, gathering the soft material of your summer dress and beginning to hitch it up, John’s hands reaching for you, running up your bare legs as you manoeuvre astride him, sitting upon his thighs.  

The feeling of his hands, hands you have fantasised about for so long finally running over your skin, gripping your hips as he pulls you closer to him causes little darts of warmth to flicker through you, the heat of his hardening cock right against your apex making you tingle with want. His lips press kisses across your chest, hands moving to cup your breasts, tongue running over the half-moon of each soft orb escaping the top of your dress, his soft groan hungry, fingers moving to lower the zip.  

The fabric pools in his grasp as the dress falls from your shoulders, his lips placing ascending kisses to your neck before your mouths finally meet, an exchange of filthy, blazing, hungry need, your heart somersaulting in your chest. His mouth is so ravenous upon you, it knocks you sideways, the urgency of his desire for you, hands clasping at your back, removing your bra will easy skill, like he’s done it a hundred times before.  

He probably has.  

You feel in nothing short of a hundred percent capable, knowledgeable hands, his mouth moving to suck upon your nipple, your head tipping back as you grind yourself against his hard cock, his teeth prickling in bite upon the pebbled bud in response to that. “Fuck, these are some fucking beautiful tits.” His breath flutters hot against you, summer breezing through a spring chill, warming you to your bones, his tongue running slowly from between your breasts and back to your mouth.  

Unbuttoning his waistcoat, your hands slide beneath his braces, levering them from his shoulders, unknotting his tie and unbuttoning his crisp, white shirt, thirsting to feel the skin that lies beneath pressing against yours. His shirt flutters to the floor, his arms tightening around them as your touch tours lithe muscles encased in pale, golden freckled flesh. His hand trails down your body, reaching the cotton of your undies, the fabric dampened by your want for him.  

Pushing you back, he moves you to your feet, pupils blown with lust, gripping those soaking undies and tugging them down. Shuffling the chair forward, he lifts your leg over his shoulder, scattering kisses up your inner thigh, the anticipation making you pant, a soft gasp fluttering over your lips as his mouth meets your folds.  

A hot lick rolls through the wet of you, the light fleck of stubble adding in delicious contrast, his tongue seeking your clit and circling, flickering, evoking your wails, your hands going to his hair, nails flexing against the shaven sides of his head as you mewl in delight. Each lick has your blood running hot, sends glimmers through you, little shocks of pleasure tingling your entire core as your cries rend the air.  

He has you panting hard, each skim of his tongue over your tiny, potent little bundle making your hips rock against his mouth, his arms wound around you, one gripped to your waist, the other squeezing upon the rounded orb of your bum. His full lips close in suck around you, your legs shaking, the heat of it snapping over your bones, the pleasure biting and full-bodied, a bright burn of warmth making the coil within you tighten sharply.  

Flattening his tongue against you, he lets you get off on the wide drag of it, the tip caressing your dewy opening as your clit throbs against the press, his hand moving to begin undoing his trousers.  

“I could fucking eat your beautiful little cunt forever, darlin’, but god, I need you on my cock.” You’re so aroused, you can barely form thought as he pulls it out, and it’s thick and perfect, running it through the slick petals of your sex as you sit back astride him before feeding it into your gaping little hole, filling you with a rumbling grunt.  

White hot pleasure sizzles up your spine, ascending like a flurry of champagne bubbles, the taste of yourself upon his sensuous mouth more erotic than you could have ever imagined, moaning against his tongue as your rock back and forth upon him. The sensations of your walls being split so wide around him has bolts of pure bliss skittering through you, your tender little clit grinding against him as his hips buck up against you, pushing you back to devour your breasts with kisses, nibbles and licks.  

The way his hands tour you, stroking ever rise and curve of your body, it has you just as mindless as the delicious drag of his cock over every sweet spot within you, scraping sparks through your walls, his groans deep and rich as he paws at you with unrelenting hunger. The heat of it roars like a forest fire, the embers sizzling over your nerves as your mutual moans fill the space, bliss tumbling through you both. It’s fervid and delicious, scorching and unrelenting, everything you knew sex with John would be now playing out in an illumination of utter sin.  

His eyes are a bonfire of blue fire as he stares at you, fingers tangling in your hair, kissing you again with urgent need as his cock sends glimmers fizzing through you. It becomes even more uncontained, the power of him beneath you incredible, hands tightening upon your shoulders as he forces you down upon the rigidity of him, making you to take the brunt of every hard snap of his hips, hitting you so deep, you’re sent reeling and mindless atop him as your thighs tremble.  

Your cries reach crescendo as the stars surge forth, entire nebulas glittering into decadent light, your walls fluttering around him, dragging his release from his sweaty body, cock spilling hot into you. You’re both rendered an entwined, panting mess in the wake of it, kissing softly, hands still roaming, John beginning to chuckle.  

“Yeah,” he breathes, nuzzling your nose, “definitely the least troublesome favourite of the day.”  

You beam, your chest still heaving hard. “Want to take me upstairs and see if I can change that?” Your tongue teases the outer shell of his ear, gently nibbling the soft lobe. “I promise not to buck the jockey off.”  

He laughs loudly, locking his arms around you and carrying you to the stairs, his hand smacking against your bum a few times causing your shrieking laughter. “I suppose it’d be fun if you tried to, love.”  

[dame-lazarus]

thinking about IWTV and how Daniel says of Lestat, “I’ve gotta meet this guy”…and how the sequel book is basically Lestat complaining how he’s misunderstood and how Louis’s account gets a bunch of stuff wrong, but also explaining his turning and some basics of vampire lore…a perfect framing device for the two of them meeting and commiserating in s3…reflecting on their makers and the fledgling bond…Lestat mentoring Daniel…Daniel chatting with Louis telepathically and driving Lestat insane…Lestat and Louis passing notes via Daniel until he loses it and makes them talk on the phone…Lestat offering to reach out to Armand for him but Daniel refusing…in-person Loustat romance rekindling in the season finale just as the well well if it isn’t the consequences of my actions pops up in the form of Akasha…but they’ll face it together…give it to me

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Sex witch, I don’t know if I need advice or commiseration, but I’m writing in anyway in case you/your followers can help.

So I (24M) am a polyamorous slut, a term I embrace. My current sexual partners are my fiancé (25M), my girlfriend (22F) and my boyfriend (25M). Fiancé and boyfriend aren’t currently having sex with anyone other than me, but my girlfriend has recently started hooking up with her friend R (21M).

Because I have multiple sexual partners, I tend to be more-than-usually strict when it comes to regular STI screenings. I ask that my partners all get screened regularly, and that they ask their sexual partners to also screen regularly. This hasn’t been a problem until now.

Recently, my girlfriend asked me to talk to R for her. Apparently he told her he’d been STI tested recently when in fact he’s never been STI tested at all. That already rubs me the wrong way, because it means that he lied to her in order to get her to agree to sex she otherwise wouldn’t have. GF doesn’t want to start a fight with R about the lie. She *does* want me to convince him to actually get tested. He refuses or changes the subject when she asks, and is apparently offended that my “tyrannical demands” are expected to dictate his behavior.

I don’t want to talk to R about this and would prefer to let him and GF sort it out between them, except that GF has continued to have sex with him in the interim and seems to have given up in getting him to listen to her directly. In short, it’s a mess.

My choices seem to be these:

—Have multiple lengthy and miserable conversations with an immature 21 year old who thinks I’m a sexual tyrant about why STI testing matters to me.

—Physically drag him to the local free clinic by his hair (I know better, don’t worry)

—Try to get my GF to stop having sex with him (I hate trying to control other people’s sex lives)

—Stop having sex with my GF indefinitely. (This is the current state of affairs.)

At this point, I think I’m too frustrated to have a clearheaded view of this issue. R seems to think that I’m upset that one of my partners is having sex with someone else, but it really, really isn’t that. I got along great with my GF’s ex boyfriend and my boyfriend and fiancé’s exes, all of whom were prepared to approach our dynamic with respect for everyone involved. I’m kind of thinking myself into angry circles about this one, I think. Please advise.

hi anon,

glad you decided to ask about this now that you've found yourself thinking in circles. it can be easy to lose perspective when you're up to your eyes in a problem, and getting someone else's input can be really necessary. I'm happy to offer that input, and it's this:

the last option, re: no sex with your GF, is not only by far the most reasonable option but also the only one that seems at all fair to you and your other partners.

I don't know your GF and I'm sure she's a lovely person, but from where I'm standing she's also being a huge dick about this. it's not her fault that R lied to her about having never been tested, but making the choice to continue having sex with him after finding out the truth, giving up on trying to get him to get tested, and pawning the responsibility off on you is unfair to you, your other partners, and anyone else who potentially becomes part of this dynamic

I want to be so clear here: wanting everyone to get tested for the safety of an entire group is not unreasonable, and it's not tyrannical behavior. it's an extremely reasonable request to make, and if your girlfriend wants to disregard that then that's her choice to make, but she's also an adult woman who can deal with the consequences of the choice.

in my pinned post I say that my answer to most requests for relationship advice is to talk about it or break up, and unfortunately I can't really see this situation ending any other way.

[mysteriouslyjovialcolor]

Germany 2019

-Oh the last German GP?

-Lewis and Max first row! Pierre in Red Bull. Lando and Sebastian last row?!

-Look at that, they’re racing in the rain. Albeit, starting under safety car

-“Safety car needs to come in already. Come on let’s go” Lewis’ beef against the safety car will never not be funny

-They’ve done like three formation laps or as they’re calling it: “exploration laps”

-“How are conditions Max?” “Yeah, perfect to go, I don’t understand why we are not racing”

Lewis 🤝 Max: wanting to go race

-Haha all of the cars glitched for a second before the start

-And now Max has somehow dropped five places, wth

-Kimi p3 🙌

-Sebastian too, making up many places! P20 to p14!

-Oh Max back to p3!

-Kevin and Checo squabbling…Checo’s in the wall

-This is giving Brazil 2016 with the multiple safety cars

(Try not to compare every wet race to Brazil 2016 challenge failed)

-Sebastian and Alex falling back to p18 and p19 after stopping for tires :/

-Almost every driver pitting now

-Mercedes double stack!

-Holy shit Kevin is p2 (That’s a rare sight to see)

-All of those pit stops shuffled up the lineup so much. Lance is p5, Nico p7, George p9!

-I don’t think the Williams pit because they’re somehow both in the points

-Yeah, George pit now

-Sebastian finally in the points

-Oh shit Danny p17?

-Aah Charles, Kevin, and Nico fighting for p4

-Pierre running wide! he’s fallen to p19 :((

-Kimi’s still as formidable as ever in that Alpha Romeo

-“Raikkonen turned a threat into an opportunity” yesss Kimi!

-“The three at the front are traveling much faster than anyone else”

-Aw I forgot this was Nico’s home race too

-Engine problem for Daniel :/

-Another safety car? Virtual safety car?

-More pit stop games

-“Just be patient Max” GP has got to be the calmest man ever

-“So you are the fastest car on track” Let’s go Charles!

-Carlos slipping off the track??

-“Sorry guys, that was unfortunate” Yeah, top ten to p14

-“Leclerc is now 7 laps off leading this race” Oh?? Are we about to get Max vs Charles??

-Ferrari trying a gamble with Sebastian’s tires

-“They’re in the clouds of the gods now” Sometimes these commentators go unnecessarily hard

-Red Bull playing a gamble too

-“Lando Norris power slide out of the pit” That looked very cool actually

-Max doing an involuntary donut. I’m not sure if that gamble played off

-Oh shit Lando’s lost power. VSC once again

-Charles p2! At least one driver’s strategies are somewhat working

-Ohmygodd he’s out!! I actually gasped out loud! That was so unexpected!!!

-Aaah that sucks so bad

-The actual safety car is back

-I’m still in shock

-Ohmygod this is all so chaotic!

-Lewis almost went into the wall and damaged his front wing!

-The pit crew weren’t ready for him!! They’re scrambling! He’s lost so many places!!

-Nico’s p3 now ohmygod

-This is still lap 30 of 64. We’re not even halfway through

-Valterri pitting as well, Max leading now

-Everyone’s on inters

-Nico p2 at his home race😭 (I’m going to cry when he loses that) (What do I have to do for him to just stay there???)

-I can’t believe Lewis got a 5s time penalty for going on the “wrong side of the bollard at the pit entry”

-How does that even make sense? It’s not like it affected any other car but his

-Alex though! In p4, holding Lewis back in that Toro Rosso

-??? Lewis under investigation again???

-Valterriiiii stay away from Hulkenburggggg

-Noooooo Valterri whyyyy

-Can’t even hope for p3 now because it’s Lewis who’s behind him

-At this point let him just finish the race please

-“Rare to see Kimi Raikkonen making a mistake” Yes, it was devastating (at least he recovered still in the points)

-Someone kill me, Nico’s out

-“That’s so terrible for him! I was just about to say what a phenomenal run he’s having. He would so have deserved to finally maybe have a chance even for a podium because we still don’t know what penalties Lewis is gonna have. Ohmygod, that’s heartbreaking. Poor guy” Me and Nico Roseberg commiserating together

-“I’m still looking forward to Lewis coming up to Bottas now though. That’s going to really really cause internal team battle there; coming up” And Nico R is now hoping for inter-team drama. He moved on pretty fast. I’m still here (crying over Hulkenburg and his dream slipping away right through his fingers)

-“Right call, right tire, right time” Max: the only one carrying me through this race now

-“Nico Hulkenburg never retired from his home race at the German Grand Prix before” Why must they keep rubbing it in??

-“Verstappen’s pitted 4 times in this race so far” This race is actually insane

-I’m actually still sad about Nico. He was so close! God, why does he have such bad luck!

-None of these commentators talking about how Alex casually made up 12 places and has stayed in p4?? In a Toro Rosso?!

-Ohmygod I should just shut up, why’d he loose a place…two places…and he’s gone wide and dropped down to p8; someone kill me.

-Max pitting again????

-Where did Sebastian randomly gain speed from? Ohmygodd Kimi too? They’re p3 and p2?! What is going on???

-Somehow Lance is in p5 all the way from p15. I did not see that coming. He was the only car who pit for slick tires with the safety car earlier and now with everyone pitting again, this has worked out great for him

-Holy shit Lance is leading the race

-Lewis, Kimi, and Sebastian all pit and now Lance is leading and Max is back up to p2 and somehow Daniil Kvyat is p3 and just set the fastest lap

-Wet races always bring so many surprises. This is all so insane. I feel like I’ve just hallucinated half of this

-Max leading again

-I forgot about Lewis’ penalty 😭 The grid positions changed so drastically, it almost feels like it got reversed

-“How has it got this bad?” Honestly Lewis I actually don’t know

-Aww kinda wanted Lance to stay p2, he missed out on it so narrowly last time he was on the podium

-Haha Valterri about to take p3 from him now, he’s the one who took p2 from his last time I think, if I remember correctly

-Checo looking on from the pit box>>

-Oh shit Valterri is out! God, Mercedes are not having a good race are they? Lewis in p14 (last) pitting again (his sixth time) and Valterri out

-This safety car probably not going to help Lance keep podium position, what with Carlos and Sebastian right behind him at the restart

-“Good for the smaller teams. This is their kinda day” Don’t I know it (maybe it’s something about pink teams?)

-Aah Sebastian right behind Lance now! If he makes podium now he’d have gone from p20 to p3!

-And he’s done it!!

-Oh bloody hell, Pierre’s gone off. He’s not having a fun day either

-Ohmygod Sebastian p2!!! Imagine if he wins?!!

-“And you’re either wearing orange this weekend or red” yesss, the orange army going wild!!

-It is so insane to me that seven cars are out

-Honestly, Lance p4 is cool too, his race did not start out well (and Carlos p5 🙌)

-I wish Sebastian was still racing 😢

-Genuinely didn’t ever expect to see a Daniil Kyvyat podium; when I was watching the races from the past few seasons he barely finished a race

-This podium is kind of a Red Bull family reunion if you think about it

-‘Tis very cute

(Would be better if Nico had finished the race but I’ll take my wins where I can get them)

(Also! I just looked up the race results again cause I forgot if Kimi placed 6th or 7th and he hasn’t placed either??! Apparently he got a post race penalty for some infringement!? That’s so annoying)

(Oh however, that means Lewis did end up in the points after all)

(The more you know)

(Ohmygod, I just noticed that Fernando is not here?!?? How did I miss that when I watched Brazil 2019?!)

(I’m crashing out. I need sleep)

[raayllum]

Teasers Timeline

With the teasers we've gotten this week, I want to try and assemble them into some kind of timeline. Spoilers and speculation ahead!

First off, there's the ones we know are taking place during 6x01 Startouched thanks to con spoilers, such as shots of the prison with Callum, his nightmare featuring Aaravos, Rayllum on the castle battlements, group discussion, them departing for the Starscraper, and Ezran comforting Zym about Zubeia.

Claudia and Terry is also probably from 6x01 (maybe Claudia commiserating with a flashback if it's from later on in the season) due to the beach location and her having to take wet/bloody clothes off. We can even see that one pantleg is shorter than the other.

Now onto the rest, with episode titles as a slight guideline.

This shot with Corvus, Zym, and Soren is likely from 6x02 Love, War, and Mushrooms, given they went looking for Zubeia and Soren meets up with Corvus at the Sunfire camp.

I also wouldn't be surprised if the "Ezran at the castle" and Janaya is around here. If Viren is alive, he could be showing up in Katolis (or Claudia is there to find the fake prison) and Janaya is preparing for war now that Sol Regem has the sun seed. Likewise, this is one of two places I could see the screencap of the Viren and Kpp'Ar flashback being; Viren may be heading back to try to free Kpp'Ar (and may do so with the staf?? If Rayllum didn't take his coin) and thereby reflecting on their past.

Then we get Rayla and Callum on the burning ship in 6x03 Frozen Ship. There's less fire when they're first there together and Callum needs to get his staff back, and significantly more fire when Rayla is there on her own despite being near the same hole in the roof and Callum not being in frame anymore.

Then they head to the Starscraper (and potentially face the big scary dragon along the way, though that could be a trial for 6x05 as well).

Rayla's line about "The fate of the entire world is at stake," her expression, as well as Stella's (almost angry?) expression makes me think she's trying to reason with Callum > telling the celestial elves what's going on, but it really could be either.

Big dragon could also be the trial or thing they're flying off too as well, after the infamous Chin Touch (and possible smooch) given that the clouds from what may be their room seems to match what we see in the background.

If the dragon adventure with Luna Tenebris' unsuitable heir is on the way to the Starscraper, I'd guess it'll have something to do with the moonstone collar its wearing (perhaps an enchantment that cloaks the starscraper from outside viewers?). If it's after, then I have no clue WHY beyond the celestial elves going "you gotta".

At the same time, Karim and Janai are preparing for war. The search for Zubeia must've been either successful or they had to give up and switch gears, as Ezran has 1) left Katolis to be here and 2) reunited with Corvus and with Zym, only to be captured and need rescuing from his favourite dragon pal (Zym's covering them, but it also seems Ez and Corvus showed up on horses so.. parlay gone wrong?)

The amount of Sol Regem regalia on their outfits and Karim's tent makes me think he's already used the sun seed to heal / ally with Sol Regem, or that he's very very close to doing so.

I do think he ultimately goes through with it, though, given that the next time we see Sol Regem, his eyes aren't healed but his wings are 100% patched up and Pharos is seemingly riding him into battle, with Janai and Amaya leading their ground assault.

Amaya still has her crown, and Aanya might show up to help -- the cliffs match the ones she's landing on -- at Ezran's behest, but it's probably not enough.

If she loses but lives, that could be why we see her almost in mourning at the sun seed tree

And I think that's it for now! More speculation and teasers to follow soon I'm sure

[delawaredetroit]

fights in shounen manga are vehicles for communication, confrontations of opposing forces or ideas

This little interaction says a lot about how BNHA will approach ideological conflict going forward. This chapter was setting the tone: this is not Naruto and this is not a talk no jutsu story.

Pulled these two quotes from your metas and ask convos (the latter is from when kirishima fought the Trigger-using punk during the Shie Hassaikai early arc, the former is from some ask about i think bakugou).

The thing is, I know you've talked about both of these concepts, but how does that work within MHA? (Does it work at all?) It feels kind of confusing that both of these could be true, because even if this isn't Naruto, the concepts of "your fights should mix the clash of ideas into the literal clash, with winning the fight representing winning the argument" and "fighters are under no obligation to engage with philosophical discussion with their opponents" feel like they can't both be in the same fight...

"your fights should mix the clash of ideas into the literal clash, with winning the fight representing winning the argument"

Yes, fights in shounen are vehicles for communication, but I would disagree that the side the physically wins necessarily wins the ideological argument. Izuku won the ideological battle against Shouto in the Sports Festival but lost the physical fight. Izuku did not win the ideological fight against Gentle despite defeating him. This wasn't even true in shounen prior to BNHA (For example, consider Naruto, Gaara versus Rock Lee or Neji versus Hinata during the chuunin exams).

The concept is more that flashy fight scenes are a metaphor for fundamental ideological disagreements. I remember the ask about Bakugou where this issue came up. Bakugou's fights are dull not only because he physically isn't allowed to lose but because the narrative doesn't allow him to entirely be in the wrong ideologically after the Battle Trials ended.

2. "fighters are under no obligation to engage with philosophical discussion with their opponents"

This wasn't what I was trying to get across by BNHA not being Naruto/a talk no jutsu story. The issue is that in earlier shounen of the Naruto variety, the protagonist often saves others by explaining his own life story and projecting that story onto the other person in order to commiserate with them. BNHA is wrapped up in the concept of "individuality", and that is a more accurate translation of "quirk" in this manga. Beyond abilities, BNHA posits that every person's pain is unique. Therefore, the first step to save an opponent is to listen to the person in pain rather than focusing on projecting the hero's own suffering onto the other person. It's less that fighters are under no obligation to engage in philosophical conversations as much as no one wants to listen to one-sided preaching, especially from someone they believe views them as a lesser person.

And to answer your question, this concept ends up muddled in BNHA because Horikoshi did such a good job setting up parallels and foils among his characters. The fact that so many of them went unacknowledged in story - Izuku and Shigaraki being the worst offenders here - weakens the theme of reaching out to others. The tension between "everyone is an individual with a unique experience" was taken to such an extreme that it interfered with a central premise of "everyone deserves to be saved".

[wonjae-lgc]

howdy friends 🤠 have not been in the RP scene in a hot minute, so bare with my mess! however, i am excited that i could bring my muse to the scene:) this is shim wonjae the resident old trainee, who is aspiring to be a model / actor — he hasn't figured his life out entirely quite yet! he's you're flat affect neighborhood boy who will listen, but not share. emotionally unavailable unless he's by himself, then maybe that's when the sadboy hours come out. profile / facts on his page — if you want to plot, send me a msg (i don't bite) or like this post and i'll come to u. more tidbits / plot points below

he grew up in seoul south korea (mokdong) in an upper-middle class setting

dad is just a regular salary man, mom is a stay at home wife who maybe enjoys botox a little too much

was pretty studious in school, definitely a late bloomer overall despite his height (190 cm!)

had your typical run of school friendships and relationships -- does he keep in touch? that's to be debated considering he's fleety

got scouted a few times during middle school / high school but had to reject the notion bc his family did not want that for him especially with his parents being just typical average citizens who want their son to grow up normal

has two older sisters oldest one became a public official, and the second one became a pediatric surgeon (hence, wonjae has big shoes to fill — he always has some sort of inferiority complex)

anyhow, he goes to university, majors in history and even goes to the army lol

until he realizes 1) he can't get a job and. 2) the thought of joining a company has been engrained in his head ever since he got scouted young

so, he shoots his last hoorah and tries out for lgc. turns out, they think he's kinda cute and tall and has some potential despite his age — but he's also lacking in a lot of ways

he trains, and continues to train seeing people develop. he follows by the books for a year until he starts to slack off a bit (gets sad at the fact that maybe he's just wasting his years). he's fleety there too, and maybe isn't the ideal model trainee

his thing: just being normal. he's not some bad boy cool persona, or some goody two shoes. he's normal, a square. some would say boring because he's never been able to show his true face in any scene. he thinks everything is permanent — like he can flee and he expects everything to stay the same (i will go into detail w/ examples if u just ask)

doesn't know how to text back to friends. awful cook (his go to: ramen and sometimes he messes up the noodles) but he can pour you a nice glass of wine :~)

he pines over exes, but also tends to jump from relationship to relationship (ha ha ha, his way of getting over a broken heart. but maybe there's one ex he just can't get over?? could be a thought)

i know this is messy and unorganized, but i'm running on 2 hrs of sleep :/ but possible plot points below:

-childhood friends / childhood family friends - maybe your the reason why he ended up at this company, shooting his shot -people in mutual commiseration over long trainee years / debuting feels like a jaded mirage -exes / past flings - shit happened, things get messy. or maybe they decided right people/wrong time -ideally, i'd like someone to make him confront the possibility of not debuting since he is leaning more towards that thought on the daily (losing hope) -someone who enjoys wine / frequents his part time job - someone (short) that hates talking to him bc he's so tall, and it hurts their neck to hold a long conversation with him. -idk, really i'm more of a brainstormer and coming up with very fun plots

[sightkeeper]

I'm going to be staying off socials until noise drops off a bit, but only wanted to say I genuinely really loved the season, so much, and I am so incredibly happy to continue to create in this fandom for the future :)

(just a bit more Thoughts on the ending below the cut)

My hyperfixation character is Aziraphale and I was Beyond Worried that what I felt I remembered about the characters would be off, but I didn't. Yes even the end

Even without the coffee theory, the combination of Aziraphale not questioning Her but questioning the System makes sense to me as a motivation, but also the prospect of doing good, being able to have the power to protect (Crowley), I see the appeal for him

And the Metatron love bombing Aziraphale, commiserating on also enjoying Human Food so he feels accepted for something he's usually ridiculed for, just general manipulative methods of getting someone to return to the fold

Even if Aziraphale is making this wrong choice fully aware, deprograming is a process, so it doesn't shake my conviction that because it's not instantaneous or linear that it isn't happening, or that Aziraphale will lose all of his character development

I can deal with complicated, and I have faith :)

(Yes of COURSE I'm also IN PAIN but it's because I love these characters and the conflict SUCKS but I also think it's good TV! I'm angry but only in an anticipatory way!!)

[sharkface-daydreams]

8 and 19?

8. common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about:

Donut isn't a twink. He's just not. He's a Midwestern American Farmboy and he grew up dragging bales of hay around, shoveling animal crap and doing all kinds of manual labor. My boy is built. He might be a twunk at best if he's got a slim bone structure? But the best kind of Donut overall is Chubby. Put some fat over that muscle because that's working muscle. Look at this hunk that shattered world weightlifting records. Lasha Talakhadze from (the country) Georgia:

Put some meat on your Donuts, he needs his nutrients <3

19. you're mad/ashamed/horrified you actually kind of like…

I had to think really hard about this one because I've been trying to scrape the layers of imposed shame off of me from the past few decades... I'm gonna say I like the idea of Carolina/Tucker. I hate that of myself because he's really been such a pest to her (and literally every other woman on the show lmao) but it has the potential to be really cute I think. Playing chicken but it's flirting and they both don't really know how to respond to it. Commiserating over losing Epsilon. The potential for emotional growth for both of them and realisations they really only know about the kinds of relationships they DONT want. But it also feels a little cringe u know lol

[lowkeyorloki]

I have been missing asis loki more than a tad.

Possible melancholic moments (for him):

Finding out sweetheart isn't pregnant (I feel like he was a bit hopeful)?

The whole Nat situation (especially when it came to light).

Dealing with Narvi's questions after the break(up). I know Narvi missed her loads and that Loki had maybe started to (or did?) see her as a mother to Narvi by then.

I would happily devour anything asis related. I have considered getting it printed but I am worried you might add something new that I wish I could have put it the book too. If it's okay with you, of course?

Hey there anon! I understand missing the fic. It's quite nostalgic for me, as it spanned almost my entire collegiate career. Before I respond to the meat of your message, let me just say: YES OFC YOU CAN PRINT IT!! I don't think I'll add anything to asis, but I do want to revise it a bit more. I have no clue when I'll do that though, so I wouldn't wait or anything. Also... if you print it, remember my beta made a cover for the fic. Also also,,, I would love a copy 🥺🥺🥺

Anyway, onto your actual ask!

Finding out sweetheart wasn't pregnant was a very bittersweet moment for Loki. Loki loves sweetheart, and he knew even at that time that he would want to have kids with her. Meeting sweetheart made Loki ponder over everything he had given up hope for: marriage, a partner, more kids, etc. etc. When it became clear she may be pregnant, it made Loki realize he not only wanted kids, but he wanted them sooner than later due to Narvi's age.

Realistically, Loki knew it was selfish of him to want sweetheart to be pregnant. He also knew - especially after her reaction to possibily being pregnant and the whole breakup situation - that maturity-wise, she wasn't ready. Still, when she told him she wasn't pregnant, it was definitely hard for him to hear. He chose his words very carefully in that moment; recall he said "I'm happy for you. I know that's what you wanted."

In terms of the Nat situation, Loki found it unfortunate, but he didn't ultimately care outside of its effect on sweetheart. He was concerned that she was losing her best friend, but to Loki, who has only had himself, Thor + Jane, and Narvi, it may not have registered as big a deal as it should. Loki was completely fulfilled once sweetheart stumbled into his life, and so I think in a way, he subconsciously assumed it would be the same for her.

On top of that, while Loki can objectively understand he was wrong in the Clint situation (that was how I weaved his status as a villain into asis - I wanted to incorporate all aspects of his character), he made it very clear he didn't regret it. Because what happened with Nat is an offshoot of the Clint thing, Loki would have been even more apathetic to the whole thing. Both Loki and Nat have a bitterness towards each other from that, and it's a bitterness neither could fully ignore for the sake of their relationship with you.

Finally, as we saw in the Loki chapter, Narvi doesn't ask much about you/sweetheart. He simply tells Loki he misses sweetheart. Loki mentions the fact that sweetheart was a mother figure to Narvi during their breakup and the months after. Basically, Loki shut down anytime Narvi mentioned her. We saw him delve back into bad habits (such as the drinking of copious amounts of wine, or not eating) in the months they weren't together, and commiserate in general. I think in this time, Loki provided very little information to Narvi (which we saw him totally beat himself up over in the chapter he narrated). It was hard for both of them. Loki's response to devastating situations is definitely avoidance, and I think that carried over to any of Narvi's questions.

Let me know what you think of all this! Thank you for the ask and your compliments. Ily very muchhhhhhh 🫶

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

May I please request anyone in the Phantomhive manor with an s/o who’s a singer at a fairly nice establishment who specializes in jazz and blues? Bonus if s/o has a sultry voice.

aaaaaaaaa~

God, but he could listen to them singin’ forever. Their voice makes him feel like he’s right there in a crowd, sitting at the bar with a drink in his hand and just relaxing after a long day. That feeling is hard for him to come by these days, so it’s one more thing he can say he loves about them. It’s funny sometimes, because although he doesn’t think he has a great voice, he’ll often join in singing with them around the house if he knows the song. It’s a great way to bond, and… well, if he gets to wrap his arms around them and slow dance a bit, what’s wrong with that?

Yes, well, it’s… it’s not bad, he supposes. As someone who’s used to the finer things, he’s seen his share of high-end places which feature musical acts. He’s used to listening to crooners and songs which are meant to be calming or commiserating. So he brushes it off, at first; the truth is, he thinks his S/O’s voice is something special. It has an inherently soothing quality he hasn’t found in anyone else’s. Perhaps it’s because this is his partner, rather than a random singer he doesn’t know. While he doesn’t show it much outwardly, if they pay attention, they can notice the way his tension melts while he’s listening to them.

Oh… their voice is so beautiful… he’s surprised the flowers don’t all sprout up just so they can hear better! His enthusiasm isn’t masked at all, and when (Name) starts to sing, his face lights up. It feels like a treat to him, like some part of his old faraway dreams has finally snapped into place. If they decide to join him in the garden, that’s even better. However, if they want to be inside, he will still happily curl up on their lap and listen to them sing. It could be that he didn’t understand the words, and that wouldn’t stop him from very likely falling asleep to their singing.

Ah, they’ve got such a lovely talent, they do! Did they train a long time to sound that way, or is it completely natural? Either way she’s most assuredly head over heels, dreaming about what it must be like to listen to them at a club like that. Certainly she’ll never get to go somewhere so classy, but she almost doesn’t care since she gets this side of them instead. She daydreams about their voice, and gets easily distracted if she hears them singing around the manor. They better not sweep her up in a dance while they sing… she’ll lose herself entirely!

Well, certainly it’s not quite demon music. That said, this style paired with his darling’s voice… it has its own charm. He’s spellbound by it, as he is with most human things, although he takes care not to be obvious about that, especially in public. He’s rather sneaky in that he’ll find an excuse for a case that he and Ciel must visit the club his S/O performs at. This way he gets to see them showcasing their skills naturally. Of course, whilst at home and listening to them… he’s clearly more at peace than he usually is. What can he say? They’re captivating.

(How relaxing…) You said it, Emily. (How lucky you are, Snake! Most people pay money to listen to [Name] sing, but they do it for you because they love you.) That’s right… isn’t it? He’s stunned into silence every time his S/O starts singing, because he’s never been allowed to witness gorgeous things like that. This is quite possibly the most wonderful voice he’s ever heard, and he can’t bring himself to just not pay attention to them. If they’ll let him, he’d love to pass evenings by resting his head on their chest, listening to and feeling them sing. He feels safe wrapped up inside their voice.

[profane-or-pragmatic]

The Devil You Know (Snippet) Pt 12

.

"We have nothing to lose because we don't have anything! Anything we want anyways! I'm so poor I'm not broke, I'm fucking broken!"

Howell Newcomb was trying his best to get us arrested. I say us because by being at the same table it created guilt by association. Yes, Howell had lost his job unjustly. Nepotistic embezzlement always needs a scapegoat and Howell had been given that role. It was wrong but it happens. Myself I had gone along to commiserate and buy a few rounds. Not to get arrested by longcoats.

"By the way, I hate you Thrush! You hypocritical cunt! Pretend you're like us but you suck the cocks of these parasitic abominations destroying mankind!"

Friends don't say things like that. And especially not loudly enough to draw the attention of half the bar.

"Look at all of you!" Howell said and lurched to his feet, spilling both our beers. "Cowards! Afraid of words? Afraid of the truth! This is your life! This is your fucking life! And what will you say when the dogs come? I haven't done anything wrong! I was just here being good! Good! Fuck good! Obedient mindless idiots! You haven't done anything wrong? Of course you haven't! Because you've never actually done anything at all except what you're fucking told to do! Fuck you! Fuck the lot of you! Call the dogs! Call those cunts! Call 'em!"

"Brother, you best get your friend calmed down." A man at the next table said and I wondered just how he thought I could do that.

"Pigs! Cunts! Whores! Fuck everything! Fuck all you and fuck the king!" Howell shouted and that last line caused people to immediately move back. But it got worse. "If he was here I'd kill him! Not with a gun! I'd gut him like the pig he is! I'd kill the fucking king and his whole fucking family! Scum! Death to royals! Death to nobles! Death to the rich!"

"Brother, you need to leave! This is a peaceable establishment." The barkeep said but Howell was fully wound up. Clearly so. "You want to get arrested, go out in the street and do it!"

"Fuck you! Who are you? Nobody! And no fucking way is nobody going on and telling me what to do ever..."

That was when I applied a chokehold from behind on Howell. I learned it from the bouncers at the bordello when I was fifteen. It isn't about cutting off oxygen. It's about stopping bloodflow to the brain. He went limp and unconscious before he could figure out how to fight back.

"Get him the fuck out of here!" The barkeep bellowed. "Nicely done. I'll help you." the comrade from the next table said. Thank god, because Howell was a large and heavy man.

We got outside and it was snowing and it didn't take long for Howell to come to. He was of course very groggy and confused at first. Then he started to get angry and belligerent again.

Until.

My friendly assistant leaned down, pointed a finger at Howell"a face and said softly. "The only reason you're still alive is because someone has decided to let you live."

And then walked away.

At that point Howell and I parted company and each headed home.

.

"You're sure that's what he said?" Bill Hartwell asked me on an afternoon a week later as I had breakfast and he had dinner. "Why would he have let it go?"

"I know exactly what he said! I was a foot away when he said it!" I replied in a very low voice. Nobody was near. That I could see. "As to why Howell isn't in jail or dead, don't expect me to have an answer! That's the closest I've ever been to a longcoat!"

"He was clearly off-duty. Maybe he didn't want to deal with paperwork." Bill said and then shrugged at my scowl. "I've never heard of a longcoat acting human. The fellow was just there in the bar? That's kind of terrifying. I had no idea they did that."

In hindsight it seems asinine, but at the time I was of a similar mind. The longcoats were fanatical nightmares that seemed inhuman. Getting arrested by them was a very unpleasant and prolonged death sentence. Nobody I knew actually knew anyone in the secret police. Or anyone who knew anyone in the longcoats. The assumption was that they lived in barracks and only left them to carry out their grim duties.

It's far more terrifying to realize that your nightmares could largely pass for normal human beings. Meaning you might be sitting next to your doom at any moment.

Sorry for planting that in your head. Have a little piece of my world.

.

I grew a network in my new haunts of the Uplands. On the plus side I had to buy a new wardrobe. I enjoy buying clothes. I enjoy it even more when I have a good reason for buying them. Suave and debonair are two things I do well.

Fortunately I am a shapeshifter. I can be moderately respectable, dashing and proper, sleazy and enticing, or totally average at will. That's a seldom mentioned benefit of growing up in the sin district. You get to observe others change faces and really get a good look at how expectations and appearance can create magic.

On the negative side the Middling is between my home in the Farwood and the Uplands. The Middling is a heavy longcoat zone. Because the Downland, Riverway, and Canal Land are the southern neighbors to the Middling, and there was no way poor folk were getting near the righteously rich.

"Max, buddy, who is cooking this for you?" Said Berthold the Vain to me. That's what he goes by. I didn't name him. "The purity levels are exceptional! The crystal formations are uniform! Your boy knows his stuff!"

"I just get it from a little old lady who works a pushcart on the Ferrous Canals" I said and Berthold grinned. He was always trying to get the name of my chemist and I always had a new lie each time. "Do me a favor though. Tell your boy Timmurs I need a commitment in cash on that thickroot. Preferably today. Tomorrow at latest. I can find another buyer with no problem. I was doing him a favor by giving first offer."

"I'll tell you what. Give me a personal demonstration of its quality and I'll pay you in full now." Berthold said and leered at me. A legitimate leer. "I have the money right in the safe."

"Look, I know you do this because I'm one of the few to say no to you, but trust me. You'd be disappointed." I said and of course he didn't believe me.

So I opened my pants and showed him.

"But I've always heard Mattaturians were..." he said and looked honestly puzzled.

"We're known to lie about everything else." I recited another stereotype as I buttoned my fly. "So why would you believe us about that?"

"Everyone always says...oh! No offense!" Berthold said and blushed when he caught my flat stare. "There's nothing wrong with yours! I just expected mo...uh...I....uh...I should just shut up now, yes?"

"Yes." I said and wished I was Grendarri. Nobody ever talked about fucking them.

Then again, that would make my work far less lucrative. Oh well. Burdens to bear.

[starofhisheart]

MAJOR SPOILERS FOR OFMD S2 EP6-7 under the cut

Ok, that was A LOT. I have so many feelings but no coherence so i'm gonna do this bullet point form but def not in order, just in order of me remembering wtf happened lol

-IZZY AND WEE JOHN IN DRAG!!!!! Wee John looked STUNNING with that Divine-esque appearance and Izzy had that transmasc drag king kind of thing going on (iykyk) that made me love him even more

-Izzy singing LA VI EN ROSE took me tf out!!! i'm glad he got to finish it after the *ahem* distractions bc Con's voice is so beautiful I could listen to it forever. We better get it in the album!!! Also someone posted the lyrics translated and i cannot get over the lyrics:

"It's him for me,/And me for him, for life/He told me, he swore to me, for life"

-But not only was he singing the second half had fucking gentlebeard doing the dirty in the next room asdfghjkl which.....was hot, ngl. The passion was electrifying. I'm sorta glad we didnt rlly see it with everything that happened after bc it all kinda left a bad taste in my mouth.

Also Stede Bonnet canonically gets turned on by violence confirmed

Or trauma. Whatever.

-What else happened in ep 6 cause all i can think of is drag and singing and sex-

-oh yeah there was that shortlived sexually-charged torturer who i distinctly recall him being in another scene in the promo so unless that got the cut perhaps he's not dead...?

-Lupete missing all the action cause they were doing the nasty all night lmao so real

-Jim best wingman (gender neutral)

-Stede...Stedey boy, can I call u that? Now i'm gonna say this nicely, but WHAT THE FUCK DUDE? Stede in his white guy w undue confidence era fr. Zheng Yi Sao was so right for what she did truly

-But in all seriousness i feel like this whole thing in ep 7 was such a parallel to s1 but also a very necessary bit of conflict in their journey together that was bound to happen. THey want different things and neither is wrong or right for that. Stede did react poorly tho but like he just had sex w the love of his life, his first man, and Ed the very next day is like "aight i'm out". I'd be pissed too. After killing someone which we know is a big trigger for him historically.

But Ed also had a valid reaction. He's wanted to retire for a while and stede knows this but it hasn't seemed to have sunk in quite yet. He fears that Stede only sees Blackbeard and...its fair of him to have that impression tbh. These are two messy, traumatized dudes who have never had a real relationship and there's gonna be bumps. I hope we get s3 so we can better explore that like Djenks wants.

-Ok back to the fun stuff:

-Izzy barging in on GB and the docking joke. love his cringefail ass.

-IZZY IS HAPPY FOR ED EVEN IF ITS NOT WITH HIM

#growth

-the edizzy apology which was so typical of them. i expected it but bc i'd been building it up in my head all week w twitter pals it felt a bit anticlimactic but thats not the shows fault. it was very much in character and if they're satisfied so am i. i always have fic for more

-stizzy commiserating over losing ed pls thats all i've ever wanted!!!!!

izzy: "when i told him i loved him he-"

stede, like he's heard this story before: "shot u yes"

and the look they gave each other after!!!!! stizzy nation how we feelin?!

-izzy being like "stede no" when he was on his macho bullshit w zheng yi sao (also motivated by trauma bc he just lost ed, he cant lose MORE family!!!). i just like how protective iz seems of stede now.

-izzy''s "you're good for him" CRYING THROWING UP ETCETERA

-ed catching 1 fish and deciding thats his life now. adhd realness fr

-the swede whew is it hot in here or is that just jackie's effect on her husbands?

-jackie and ed actin like old friends. swede highkey shading ed adfghjkl

-anyway im sure there's more but i need to rewatch. there r things i wont go into bc its possible spoilers for the finale (tho its mostly just speculation some is based on bts not everyone may have seen). i am looking forward to and terrified for the show to end next week thats all i'll say

[helix-enterprises117]

For the Sentence Starters, I went with one from each category but feel free to pick the one that speaks the most to you. Or throw them all in a blender and see what comes out, lol! Angst: 1, Fluff: 1, Misc: 7. Oh yeah, I gave you 117 because I am clever like that. 😂😂😂

I like that! 1-1-7!

I Can't Do Anything Right

The dust swirled around the training field as the final whistle blew, signaling the end of the Free-For-All Capture the Flag session.

Eight-year-old John-117 sat dejectedly on a crate, his small, muscular frame heaving with the effort of catching his breath. His MJOLNIR training suit, though downsized for children, still clung heavily to him, the dirt and sweat making it uncomfortably gritty.

Around him, other young Spartans celebrated or commiserated, their youthful faces flushed with the thrill of competition. But John was distant, staring down at his scuffed boots, a sense of failure gnawing at him.

"I can't do anything right," he muttered under his breath, his voice tinged with frustration. He didn't notice Dr. Halsey approaching until she was right beside him, her expression soft yet analytical.

"What's wrong, John?" she asked, her voice carrying a gentle firmness.

John looked up, his normally bright blue eyes dimmed by defeat. "I lost, Dr. Halsey. Again. I didn’t capture the flag even once." He kicked at the ground, sending a small cloud of dust into the air.

Dr. Halsey sat beside him, her lab coat flapping slightly in the breeze. "John, losing is a part of training. What matters is what you learn from it. Tell me, what happened out there?"

He hesitated, running a hand through his short, sandy hair. "I almost had it once," he started, his voice gaining strength as he recounted the moment. "I was close to the enemy base, hiding just behind the ridge. But then Kelly came from nowhere, and she... she was just faster."

Dr. Halsey nodded, listening intently. "And what did Kelly do differently that you can learn from?"

John thought for a moment, his analytical mind turning over the events. "She’s lighter on her feet. Quieter. I think I make too much noise, and I’m not fast enough yet."

"There you go," Dr. Halsey encouraged, her voice warm with approval. "You’ve already started to figure out what you can improve. Speed and stealth. We can work on that, can't we?"

John’s face brightened a little, the spark of resolve reigniting in his eyes. "Yes, ma'am. I can do better. I’ll train harder."

Dr. Halsey stood, offering him a hand up. "That’s the spirit, John. Remember, Spartans never quit. They learn and they adapt."

John took her hand and rose, his posture straightening as if her words had physically bolstered him. "Yes, ma'am. I won’t give up."

As they walked back towards the barracks, Dr. Halsey's gaze lingered on the young Spartan. In him, she saw not just the child he was, but the leader he could become. Every setback was a step toward that future, a future she firmly believed in.

"Let's go review the video footage," she suggested. "We'll see exactly where things went wrong and how we can tweak your approach."

"Okay," John agreed, his voice firm and more confident. "I want to be better."

"And you will be," Dr. Halsey assured him with a nod. "You will be."