#hopefully my references weren't too far off!

[overlymetaromantic]

what style of dance do you hc yellow and blue pearl do? i personally think yellow dances jazz and blue dances lyrical.

ooooh I'll be honest, I know very little about dancing/different dance styles, but based on my brief googling, I can why you would associate those particular dances with each of them!

[strwberri-milk]

Hi, good morning/ afternoon/ evening. I've probably read all of your work on LnD, and I love them all. If it's not too much, can I request like the boys getting a call/update from MC after a disastrous wanderer attack on the city after not being able to contact them?? If possible, established relationship😅 ... thank you for your time!

im glad you like all my writing for them!! im so aefjaweofaw please give me the next main story update - also theres lots of references/imagery of death so if youre not chill w that i will see you tomorrow [salute] - theres also some very very slight references to their myths!! it feels a little ooc to me but thats bc. i think theyd be a little ooc when faced w a tragedy like this!! i hope you like it anyway <3

Zayne holds his breath every time a new patient is admitted. The hospital is busy with all of the patients that are coming in with the disaster, a mixture of those hanging on and people running up to him because he's the closest doctor in the vicinity to confirm death.

He volunteered himself to do triage because he was convinced that he'd be able to stop you from dying, that if you came in through those doors he'd be able to separate his love for you from the mind that studied all those nights but that's impossible - he only got here because of you.

His mind runs circles around himself, almost separated from his body as he tries to figure out why you weren't there. Hopefully it's because you're fine - you don't need medical attention or the medics on site were enough for you. However, he knows there's an equal chance that it's just because a doctor onsite was able to confirm your death and now you were in some bag, stored away with the others waiting for him to come identify you.

When he finally gets a moment to himself he obsessively checks his phone, praying to something that might take enough pity on him to listen at the very least that you'll call him. Minutes turn to hours as he's called back to work. Silence is a commodity now as he's stuck in the theatre, only able to go home after he's exceeded the legal amount of hours he's allowed to work in one night.

The long turned cold water hits his muscles as his mind wanders in the quiet of his home. You still haven't called - nobody's called. He understands that surely, all of you are busy but he's been there when the calls have had to be made. To hear the sobs on the other side of the phone as a squad captain confirms the death of another hunter as they softly ask if they'd like to see the body. He's also seen the calls when the bodies are far too mangled, a sight that no loved one should have to bear. He's waiting for it, almost falling in his haste to grab his phone once it finally rings.

Your number pops up, the letters of your name taunting him as he tries to answer it. He's about ready to throw his phone on the ground from the water on his hand refusing to make picking up the call an easy feat.

"Hello?" Zayne asks, an uncharacteristic shake in his voice.

"Zayne! I'm okay!" you say, voice sounding a little weak but definitely better than he could have ever anticipated.

"Zayne? Honey? Hello?" you ask when you're met with only silence, now beginning to grow anxious yourself. You knew he must have been busy - you were too - and you thought he was safe. He should have been, you'd heard no reports of the hospital being attacked.

"You're alive," he chokes out, falling to his knees.

"Of course I am! Things have just been chaotic so I haven't had enough time to call you until now," you explain, continuing to talk to him.

You hear rustling on the other side of the phone, trying to get his attention again before he cuts you off.

"Where are you right now? Home?"

"Oh - yeah I'm on leave now. Most of us who were in active duty are to let his recuperate. How come?"

"I'll be there soon."

He hangs up immediately, leaving you a little stunned. You decide to clean up a little, having nothing else to do really until he comes over. Zayne never acts this impulsively so you assume that the day with no contact really wore on him.

Once he arrives you open the door for him, planning to apologise for the lack of contact when he almost throws himself at you. You hold him back just as tightly, a little shaken yourself as you close the door after him. You realise that for whatever reason he's soaking, unsure if you should confront that but you decide to ignore it.

He leads you right to your couch, too exhausted to even find your bedroom as he buries himself against your chest. It's not the normal way he lays with you - typically he likes to hold you - but you know not to bother him now. You can't deny you were worried about him too, knowing he probably put in a bunch of overtime at the hospital.

He holds onto you tightly, measuring out the beat of your heart. It's the only way he can remind himself that you're still alive, that the two of you have one more day together.

Xavier has never felt like he wanted to die more than in this moment. One minute you were running with him, trying to stop the Wanderer from attacking the group of civilians the next you're totally gone. Logically, he knows you're most likely fighting a Wanderer by yourself and you can handle it but somewhere he's convinced you'll die without him at your side. You've proved yourself more than capable but he worries about you all the time - he knows how to fight these things, he's been fighting them for far longer than you have - and if you died here he'd have no more reason for living.

He practically goes beserk, tearing into each and every creature with the hopes that one of them can take him to you. With each failure he starts to spiral, standing atop a pile of rubble as he watches the recovery teams start to spread into the city. It practically took an entire squadron to force him to go home, promising him that he'd be the firs t to hear once they found you.

You were diligently following Xavier when you noticed another Wanderer going after a child. You knew that he'd panic once he couldn't find you but you couldn't just abandon them. You tried to tell him you'd be splitting off but over all the screams and screeches he couldn't hear you and you couldn't waste any more time trying to get his attention.

You were able to defeat the Wanderer but not before sustaining an injury that made it too difficult for you to continue active duty, taking the child to a safe spot and staying with them until help arrived. You ended up passing out from the pain shortly thereafter, waking up a day later to Tara in your face heaving a sigh of relief as she called for a doctor to come check on you.

Your body was simply fatigued and after an extra day of monitoring and ensuring you were receiving everything you needed to make sure you wouldn't collapse again when you get home. You nod, knowing what procedure is at this point. You reach out for your phone once the doctor leaves, knowing that Xavier must be worried out of his mind.

You're right, of course. He's laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling as he waits for someone to call him. He saw the scale of disaster this attack was, knows that everything is absolutely awful and he's not the only one waiting for news but every minute that passes is another minute you could be trapped, praying that he's coming there to save you.

He decides to ignore the strict orders he's gotten, suiting up to go help the recovery efforts. He was going bad staying in bed all day, unable to get a wink of sleep as pictures of your suffering flash across his tortured mind. Working on pulling valuables and any remnants of life is depressing on a good day but right now it's downright torturous. He can't help but think that the next thing he pulls out is going to be your hand, severed far from your body.

When his phone rings everything disappears. He quickly picks up, steeling his expression to avoid making things worse should someone look over at him. He doesn't even notice who called him, just hoping that it was someone with news.

"Oh! You picked up fast. Are you just sitting at home then?" you ask casually, so casually he thinks it's almost cruel. How could you act so nonchalant about the fact that you held his life in your hands, that you are the only thing in this world he can bear to wake up for?

"No, I'm helping the recovery efforts despite orders. I...it was too quiet at home," he offers as an explanation and you hum. He can imagine you nodding, tapping your chin as you think to yourself.

"If you missed me you could have just said so," you tease, hoping that the ease in your voice will make him relax.

"Of course I did. Is that even a question? Are you able to take visitors?' You know what, doesn't matter. I'll just wait there until you are. I'll see you soon love."

He hangs up quickly and you know that he'll appear in the hospital within the next two seconds with that uncanny ability of his. You straighten yourself out a little, knowing that you were injured but not wanting to look like a total mess.

You can hear his footsteps running up to your door, slamming it open as he catches his breath. You've never seen him out of breath before - maybe he's much more tired than you initially thought.

"You made it," you laugh, making a slight sound from the impact of him practically jumping at you, holding you tightly as he buries his face into your neck.

"I was worried about you," he says softly, looking up at you. "I thought you'd been hurt, badly. And I wasn't there to protect you."

You sigh, helping him sit down into the chair at your bedside. You offer him your hand which he holds gratefully, never taking his eyes off of you.

"I know. I'm sorry. But look, I'm okay now, aren't I?"

He ignores the pain in his chest, trying not to imagine how heavy your hand would feel in his if you really had drawn your last breath. That weight is far too familiar to him, haunting his every thought in the hours that passed between then and now.

"You are. And I'm going to make sure you stay that way," he promises.

Rafayel didn't even know there was an attack until far after it. He knew you were working and that sometimes, you'd accidentally go MIA. You'd already texted him before your mission anyway and then he got drawn into another project of his and completely lost track of time. It's not until the next day that he finally sees his phone and the message from Thomas telling him not to come into the city for supplies for a day or so.

He immediately starts looking through articles, scouring pages that are constantly updating the death toll in search of your face. He curses himself for not paying attention earlier - every minute he wasted on some stupid was another minute you could have spent at Death's door, all because he allowed himself to forget that nothing matters if it's not you.

It's obsessive the way he looks through all of them, calling your phone non stop all the while. Every time he gets sent to voicemail he feels his breath get knocked out of his lungs, resorting to blowing up your phone with texts. When it's clear you aren't replying he grabs his keys to drive into Linkon despite Thomas' suggestion, knuckles white on the steering wheel as he heads to the hospital.

Even in all the chaos people can't help but stare a little as Rafayel makes his way to the counter, demanding someone tell him where you were. He's really trying not to be a brat, promising you that he'd be nicer to people but when it's your life on the line everything is up for debate. He goes through any and every possibility, figuring out what he can do to guarantee your survival.

Unfortunately for him, he gets escorted out. Jenna tries to calm him down, telling him that he'd be the first to know if they had any updates on you. Right now everything was just far too messy to know anything about anyone and there was a good chance that you were just being treated at a different hospital than usual due to the high causality count. He doesn't take no for an answer and manages to strong arm the name of the other hospitals you could have been sent to, starting up his car again right as his phone lights up with your name.

"What do you think you're doing not answering your phone?!" he yells, making you flinch.

Rafayel's never been mad at you, certainly not to this extent but you know that it's because he's anxious. He immediately catches himself too and you hear it, catching the sound of his hands against his steering wheel as he takes a deep breath.

"I'm sorry. Just - where are you?" he asks, sounding so exhausted that you feel like crying.

"I'm okay Rafayel," you say instead, adding the name of your hospital. He's immediately driving over as you talk to him, keeping your voice even.

"I was split up from the group is all, then triaged at a different hospital. I'm fine though - I managed to just sprain my wrist from overexertion so I'll have a sling for a bit-"

"You're staying with me then. I'm not having you stay alone with a broken wrist. Knowing you you'd do something dumb and make it worse," he scoffs, trying his best to drive safely to see you again. You don't bother to correct him, knowing that's the least of your worries.

You fall quiet, not sure how to respond. Rafayel has always been good at masking how he feels, rarely showing you what he's hiding behind his mask. Now he's an open book, making it clear that nothing will be okay until he sees you again.

"Okay," you agree, leaning further back into the pillows of your hospital bed. "They wanted me to be released into the care of someone if I could anyway. That's why I was calling you - that, and trying to return all your missed calls."

"Thank you," he says so quietly you barely hear him over the sound of his car.

"Of course my love," you say just as softly. "I knew you'd worry as soon as you saw the news."

Another moment passes between the two of you. Rafayel thinks his heart fell out of his chest - or it would have if it was still his to hold. Instead, it's beating firmly in your palm, only able to do so under your affections.

"Rafayel, I'm really fine, I promise. I'm just hungry. Let's get something for dinner, yeah?" you offer, hoping to redirect his energy.

"Yeah," he replies, exhaling deeply.

"Anything you want my beloved. Just name it and it's yours."

[yetanothergreyjedi]

Ghosts of Our Pasts

DP x DC crossover

Danny Fenton and Damian Wayne sibling AU

Parts 1 & 2. Part 4 Part 5

Part 3: Before

"You are not my brothers!" Their newest brother shouted. They were used to this by now. Once Damian had stopped actively trying to kill them for dominance or whatever, they'd taken to domesticating him like feral kitten. He was a lot more hiss than he was claw. And as long as they didn't push too far, he just got more comfortable with them. Except, of course, when they referred to him as family.

"Yes we are," Someone quipped back, and Damian's face grew stormy.

"You. Are. Not." Damian snarled. "I had a brother. You will not replace him!" They all froze with the revelation, and Damian took that time to throw down his Robin gear and storm out of the room.

He'd had a brother. The league had tucked away, not one, but two?!? And they had killed one, or gotten them killed or— it was no use to speculate, they didn't know what happened.

"I'll talk to him," Dick volunteered, before he started to spiral. No one responded, probably because they'd started a spiral of their own.

___

Damian wasn’t hiding. Well, from a civilian's perspective, he might be. He felt like hiding, but this was not an appropriate situation to hide from. Thus, he stayed in a place someone with League of Assassin training, and his b— his father’s other children would find completely obvious.

It was Grayson who found and silently sat down next to him. He didn't ask, and that was better because Damian didn't have to say anything, but it was worse because he needed to say something, and now he couldn’t hide behind a resistance to interrogation.

"He would've loved it here." Damian admitted.

Grayson leaned ever so slightly into him. "What was he like?"

___

Danyal laughed as he ran down the hall, enjoying the moment while he could before the inevitable he'll to pay. He'd been seen, but hadn't been caught, so his self imposed mission was successful.

It was a harmless prank, but an action suitably beneath an heir to the Demon. It should be enough. Damian wouldn't fail, but he feared he would; now, even if he drastically missed his mark he'd still have a reason for grandfather to keep him around.

If Dany had known he was setting the mark his brothers would be held to, he would've held back. He did now. He sprinted on the razors edge of acceptable performance and excellence. Hopefully, it would last long enough to put his plan into motion.

___

Damian told him about the older brother who loved the stars, played secret games, got into odd kinds of trouble, and was the best at everything. Dick got a sense of how young Damian must've been when he'd died. There was also something missing in the stories, but Dick didn't push. This was a rare bit of vulnerability, and he wasn’t going to risk it.

They missed patrol that night, and later shared those stories with the rest of their siblings. They morned the brother they'd never meet, and eventually Damian called them brothers too.

But one phrase from that night still haunted Dick;

"He would've gotten us here years ago... if it weren't for me..."

Dick never did ask, he wasn't sure he wanted to know the details.

___

Danyal layed there for an eternity. If he moved too soon, he'd risk Damian turning around, if he waited too long, he'd bleed out. Would Damian turn around? Would he apologize and help him up? Would he come back to finish him off? Had his brother intended a slow kill to make him suffer, or to let him escape? Maybe Damian hadn't accounted for the light armor beneath his clothes?

He waited a half an eternity longer, then forced himself to his feet. He managed a few steps before pain and dizziness toppled him again. Up. Step. Step. Down. Up. Step. Down. Crawling managed more distance, but left a more obvious trail. It wouldn’t get him out of here. He would die here. Unless...

___

Jazz wanted to be mad at the boy who was now her brother. Her parents had barely left the lab since he'd offered a glowing green vial in exchange for a home.

It was his fault they'd forgotten about her, but only this time. Last time is was the old woman convinced her husband was still in the house. The time before that it had been a beeping box that went off whenever it was pointed to close to an electrical line. It would only be proof until it wasn’t, and then she'd have her parents back until someone brought the next new toy. It was his fault this time. He stood in the living room in his borrowed clothes like furniture was a foreign concept. She sighed, grabbed a washcloth and ran it under warm water. It was hard to be mad at someone who'd shown up looking like they'd escaped a serial killer.

He didn't startle as she approached and she realized he'd been watching her. Well, no backing out now.

"Here," She held it out to him, "you have dried blood behind your ear."

"Oh," He ducked his head and started scrubbing. She waited for him to finish and showed him where to put the dirty laundry. She had a little brother now, and their parents had forgotten them both again.

_

_

_

💕

In this AU, Jazz is 13 when Danny arrives. She already thinks that psychology is interesting, but she only starts diving deep into it after Danny shows up.

If you guys have any comments or questions, I'd love to hear them. This was a one part thing until you asked questions and started thinking about the answers.

Tag list:

@spectralstardustandphantomnights @avelnfear @idfk-man10 @blackroserelina @candeartist422 @mur-ururu @luer-mirin @insufferablecrab @skulld3mort-1fan @alonedustspeck @voidbornposts @meira-3919 @marshmelloe @aethernorwood @mimilikey @undead-essence

Dears, I love you, but you really need to change your profile pic to anything that isn't the default because I thought you were bots. I legitimately almost blocked you on reflex because I'm getting so many right now.

@the-winds-of-kushala and @spectralstardustandphantomnights thank you both for your lovely title suggestions

💕

[blitzor0de0]

Hihi! Can I pretty please get a Saint Peter x sinner!reader where reader visits heaven with Vaggie and Charlie. Peter and her (or them if readers written as gendernutural) kind of have a love at first sight moment? One shot if possible!

-self proclaimed anon ✖︎

ohoho I know of you anon!! Hopefully this is everything you wanted, made it a life at first sight to a small date between the two !!

cw: none really, brief mention of biblical saint Peter, no y/n used, gn! reader but is referred to as "pretty" once

word count: 1.4k

part 2 part 3 part 4

Holy Ground (Saint Peter x Sinner!Reader)

Now when Charlie suggested that you should join her and Vaggie to visit Heaven.. To say you were surprised would be quite the understatement. You ended up in Hell for a reason so the mere thought of seeing those pearly gates, well it was rather exciting! …And nerve-wracking.

Your belief in Charlie's venture for sinners to be redeemed was an interesting one for sure, a little sceptical, but seeing how enthused and determined the Princess was, well.. You were swayed, and hopefully redemption was on your near future bucket list.

Bidding a quick farewell to your fellow hotel inhabitants you stepped through the portal to face the blinding golden rays of Heaven and its gates.

Dumbfounded, you stared at the exterior, jaw slightly agape not quite fully listening to the couple besides you.

The only thing to break your focus,

“Hiya! Welcome to Heaven. Can I get your name, please?”

Snapping your head in an almost alarming rate to the source of the voice, you found yourself growing increasingly flustered.

The man before you was gorgeous, stunning even.. You weren't even sure if there were any words in the English lexicon to describe the ethereal man before you.

Turquoise eyes, curly blond hair, and an overly cheery, yet silly voice. You had hardly noticed the conversation between Charlie and the keeper of the key.

It was only when Vaggie nudged you with a quirked brow did you regain any sense of normalcy.

In a mild act of bravery you asked his name, it was only polite to do so. With a small surprised expression upon his face alongside a hardly noticeable blush, he went to answer but got interrupted by Sera instead, a small pout taking over his features as the attention was shifted to the two Serafim.

Saint Peter…

His name echoed in your mind. You knew him.. Well of him, one of Jesus’ apostles or something of the sort.. He was a lot different than you expected him to be…

a lot different

You gained a little bit more of intel about him through his song. Overly peppy, charismatic.. a little flirty too, it was rather surprising. Also the moaning during the song.. It felt almost sinful for an angel to do, or so you thought.

So when you, Vaggie, and Charlie split off to venture Heaven’s plaza, you decided it was only fair to scout down the only man who piqued your interest.

Thankfully, he wasn't stationed at his post, opting to reside at the ice cream plaza, sneaking up behind him and spoke a soft “Hi.”

Giggling, you watched him jolt in surprise as he turned to face you, a soft smile growing upon his features.

“Hiya! You're that Sinner accompanying.. Lucifer’s daughter, aren't you? I'm Saint Peter.. though you already know that! You're actually the first person ever to have asked my name at the gates so it took me for quite a surprise!! Oh I'm getting ahead of myself, what's your name?” He rambled.. Cute.

After giving your name to the angel, his smile only grew. “That's a delightful name! How did a pretty thing like you end up in Hell, from what I've seen so far you're up to Heaven's standards.” Peter spoke, subtly flirting.

It was rare for Peter to come in contact with sinners, the thought of how corrupt they must've been in life sent shivers down his spine, but there must've been something different about you.

What you didn't notice when you first arrived were turquoise eyes peering at you from the second your presence was known in Heaven.. Peter was enamoured. Sure everyone in Heaven was hot, he even stated so through song format, but there was a certain sparkle in your eyes when seeing the pearly gates which filled Peter with a sense of pride, his heart almost fluttered.

But then you asked his name.

An act of common courtesy, yet something in Peter’s millennia of existence had never experienced, people were typically so excited with the fact that they made it to Heaven, or wanted to see God, Jesus, a former lover or family member, even Adam. He was just the Keeper of the Key, what did he matter to them?

So asking for his name at the gates, well you may as well have just proposed on the spot, thank the lord he was able to hide his excitement and fluster.

Back to the present, your small blush wasn't unnoticed by the angel, in fact it only egged him on, “Come, sit! Have some ice cream with me, any flavours you prefer, we've got everything here!”

“Everything?” You questioned, taking a seat opposite the angel.

“Mhm! Anything you can imagine we've got. Pistachio, butter pecan, mint choco chip, birthday cake, anything!”

There was that sparkle in your eye again. “Woah..” You spoke breathlessly, “Down in Hell we, uh.. Don't really have ice cream… or anything particularly edible like there was on Earth. In fact I can't even remember the last time I even had ice cream.” You awkwardly laughed, causing Peter’s eyes to widen.

“Seriously?! I had heard things were… forgive my language, rather shitty down there.. But nothing edible?” He looked dumbfounded, how did you survive down there? He quickly perked up. “Well then! I insist, pick as many flavours as you like! My treat.”

“No no, you don't have t-” You were quickly cut off.

“My treat!”

Nodding, you chose the flavours you so desired, and promptly, the sundae glasses were placed in front of the two of you.

Taking your first bite, it was as if you were seeing Heaven… In a figurative sense, you were physically there after all. It was everything you had ever imagined and more.

Peter, watching you with a soft smile, was truly thinking how you ended up in Lucifer's grasp. You were as angelic as it came.

Conversation came easily to the two of you, even explaining the reason for your visit.. Rehabilitation for sinners?

It echoed in Peter's mind. Interesting, very interesting. It was never something that crossed his mind that Hell was overpopulated.

Enthused, stars in his eyes, Peter expressed his encouragement for the three of you. “Seriously? This is huge!! Would add a tonne of workload on me but, if anything, I think the first redeemed soul should be you! You've already shown so much potential, and frankly, I think you deserved to be here in the first place! With the evidence you mentioned Charlie has, there's no doubt that Sera will have to agree! Ooh this is so exciting!” He exclaimed, wings fluttering to match his energy.

“I know! I didn't have a lot of faith in Charlie at the beginning but, that girl is incredibly determined, I won't let this be another failed dream for her, she deserves this..” You spoke fondly, a small sigh escaping your lips before your eyes were filled with shock and realisation of Peter's words.

“Wait. I. What? You seriously think I could manage to get up here? I.. I'm not so sure about that, I haven't really shown any signs of change, or redemption.. I've just been myself the whole time I've been in Hell, well.. besides adapting to, well, everything.”

Peter could only flash you a smile, “Yeah. You deserve it, I'm not sure about these other residents of the hotel you've mentioned, but I'm sure they could make it up here with Charlie's guidance.”

You were stunned, if an important angel like Saint Peter could get on Charlie's side, then it would be no problem getting the Serafim to agree too! Maybe.

“Well, thank you, Peter.. Truly, I'm glad someone here agrees.” You smiled at him, arguably the most genuine smile you had held in your afterlife.

Taking your hand, Peter pressed a small kiss to the back of your hand. “It's no problem at all, anyways, that meeting should be starting soon, right? Best be getting there, Sera isn't fond of late comers.”

Flustered, you stood, holding your hand with your other, a small tingle lingering from his kiss. “R..Right! Well.. Hopefully I'll see you soon, Peter. Thank you”

And with that you left with a little pep in your step, which didn't go unnoticed by Peter, head resting in his hand as he watched you leave.

You made a mental promise to yourself ensuring your path to redemption came before anything else from then on.

[astroels]

request here!

a one-shot of ellie teaching fem!reader how to use her bow and arrow🥹

𝐀 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

a/n: TY FOR THE REQUEST<33 I'm actually so in love with the idea of Ellie teaching reader stuff !! (had to wikihow how to hold a bow, if ur a professional I'm sorry) also peep the arcane reference(I couldn't contain the urge)

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Ellie teaches you how to shoot an arrow

(Jackson ellie, and usage of babe)

You groaned in frustration from not knowing how to aim your bow correctly. There were targets set up just outside of Ellie's shed. With Ellie out on patrol, you had a ton of spear time and really wanted to learn to hunt so you could have a chance to go with her outside the gates. Plus, it wasn't entierly a bad idea to learn how to use a bow for fun. Either way, just relying on memory about how to use a bow was not helping.

You only remembered that Ellie had told you to hold it with the non-dominant hand and to pull back with your dominant, but so far all the arrows had gone to the ground in shame. You weren't sure where you were going wrong. Just one more and you'll head inside you thought. Ellie should be coming back in some time and you didn't want her to see how bad you were at aiming.

As you drew the bow back, you thought about the anchor point to make it go straight. You closed one eye in hopes it would get the arrow to shoot straighter. The string felt so tense as you held it back, near your chin. With the second you let the arrow go, there was a clash of a plant pot breaking. Well, oh shit you thought. Hopefully, Ellie-

"Won't be missing that one," you heard a voice say behind you in a joking tone. You turned around to see Ellie standing there laughing at you and walking closer. "Oh my god, I am so sorry, Ellie." All you could think to do was look down in embarrassment, hoping Ellie wouldn't totally hate you. Yeah, you were dating, but the embarrassment was too fresh right now.

Ellie placed her hand onto your shoulder and told you in a sweet tone, "t's alright, babe, I'll have Joel make me another." Her words were reassuring you to finally be able to look at her. "Let me see," She gestered to the bow and arrow. Giving it to her, she drew the bow and held it for a second. Soon after, she let it go and shot right on the bullseye. You just stared at her in shock, "You're such a show off," you scoffed. She turned around with one of her shit eating smirks she always gave. Curse her cockiness. "What can I say? I'm just a great shot." "Yeah, yeah, you always are, my love."

GIving you a lighter smile, Ellie spoke. "I can teach you now, y'know," The way her smiled complimented her eyes always made you feel warm inside. God, she was just perfect. "Well, after that performance, how could you not." You grinned back at her. You turned back to the target with the bow, so she could start her instructions.

"Alright, so hold it how I've said before." Fixing your grip on the bow felt so much more tense with Ellie eyeing your movements. "Was it like this?" You asked in a doubtful tone. "Mmm, fix your thumb into the slot, so it fits a little better." You got your thumb into the pre-dented spot as she said and looked at her for approval. She simply nodded her head and got an arrow. Ellie placed the arrow in the designated spot and gave you a pat on the back as a go to draw the bow. Before you could even think about the angle the arrow would be going in the position you had it, she intervened.

"Here, let me help you, babe." Ellie got behind you and put her hand on your dominant one, helping you put the anchor point at a straight angle. It was right below the top of your jawline. The closeness of Ellie made you flush. Her hair was tickling against your cheek, but the feeling went away as she stepped back. "You're good to shoot now." You took a deep breathe in, hesitating for several seconds.

You looked at Ellie again as she said "Don't stress too much about it, angel." Hearing her voice comforted your doubt and you let go of the arrow, feeling the tense of your hand lessen. Focusing your view on the target, you stared in astonishment at the arrow that was buried in the bullsye.

"See, you're not too bad yourself." The warm feeling in your heart grew as you walked towards Ellie. You loved your girlfriend so much, she always helped you out like this. Reaching her, you gave her a kiss on the cheek and leaned back to speak to her. "You're the best, Ellie."

"I think 'the best' deserves a little more than that, don't you agree?" She snaked her hands around your waist to pull you back in and planted her lips against yours. You deepened the kiss, enjoying the warmth that radiated off her. After a few seconds, you leaned out of the kiss, still grasped by her hands. "Now lets hope you're a 'great shot' at showering too, something is still lingering on you," you scrunched your nose. Ellie's face flushed, as she apologized while you both walked into her shed.

[joshhhhhhhhhhhhhhh]

I'm doing this now!!!!!! Yes for you see my good cool awesome friend Jane shared a linear forum post of a weekly Utena rewatch starting today. And I'm joining in I decided. Only it's my first time watching. And I joined the forum too. Hopefully anyway my account hasn't been approved yet lol. Emphasis on weekly by the way, we're not gonna be finished until fuckin December. Awesome stuff. But yeah, first time Utena viewer, this show's cool. I'm kind of aware of some certain things to expect just due to all the years of cultural osmosis, but even off the first episode alone I can at least pick up on themes of gender roles and sexuality stuff so far so that seems good, relevant even 27 years later too which is fun. It was also fun seeing random scenes like the shadow girls talking and just being like, "huh I've seen modern anime do this completely unaware it was an Utena reference" which is always dope. Lots of really striking visuals as well - wallpaper fuel if it weren't 4:3. Just a solidly interesting start overall and I'm really excited to watch more of it, just glad to finally be getting around to this in general. Dab.

[21stcenterry]

✺ — story beat: introductions.

TW: mention of guns, mild reference to injury

Terry was displeased to know that they had not, in fact, blown the interview. Details were foggier than The Big Smoke after returning to their regular workplace, but Terry had assumed they must've done something rightfully wrong to avoid getting the call to action the day after. No, siree, mediocrity was Terry's birthright, and they weren't looking to be some up-and-comer with expectations placed on them.

But a week later, the mobile buzzed during a rerun of Bargain Hunt on the 'BC, and before they could argue, Terry was off to Dear Ol' Freedom-land in a metal deathtrap. It had been several days since landing in a gloomier version of Galloway Forest, and to top off the perilous journey, Terry was still nursing a headache that reminded him too closely of Liverpool pubs on the waterfront. What did the Americans put in their aspirin? It wouldn't surprise Terry if they had gotten sugar pills.

Temples pounded as they leaned back into their chair. While rubbing at his scalp, it took Terry a while to notice the mandatory workplace introductions had come around to his end. Rat's arse, me already? Terry thought, fixing their slouch slightly in front of the group. But only slightly.

No matter what, they couldn't turn back from their plan now. There was no way in hell he was going to be any bloody Red Shirt, and he intended to return to Site-91 even if he'd get bollocks for it. It was a tightrope act. Look foolish enough that they'd send him back but not utterly useless that the Foundation'd fire him outright. No pressure, mate. They cleared their throat.

"Right on... Uh. The name's Terry, kinda. Perfect Stranger, that's it, innit?"

They shrug. "Not to alarm you, mates, but I am literally the equivalent of a mall cop sitting with you M16s. The deadliest thing I've ever wielded was a heavy-duty torch."

There was also the standard handgun, but seeing how trigger-happy some of his fellows had been at Site-91, Terry wasn't as keen on accidentally blasting a toe off at the mere mention of an SCP. If anything, he was a novice.

"I have no business in securing, containing, or protecting anything. I'm the actual bog standard." Terry gestured plainly at themselves. So far so good, they were selling themselves like a discounted apple at Tesco's. It was not entirely great, but the low price gave it a somewhat decent mull-over in the brain.

"Prolly got picked from my lot 'cause I was the, erm, lucky one if you get me. Honestly, I'd be proper 'standing if the paperwork got filed wrong and you're supposed to get someone much more qualified. No hard feelings and such if I'm not a fit."

They shrugged, not even caring at this point to not come across a total wanker.

Terry continued, "You've got to have someone tiptop watching your back. Dangerous out there, we all know that, innit. I also haven't had an eye exam in years, so I should check on that. Pleasure meeting you, though. Cheers."

Terry threw up a thumb unenthusiastically and slouched back into his seat. There. Now, to head back to his pad and start packing his stuff again, before the higher-ups had their chats and hopefully prepared for their expulsion.

[thesinglesjukebox]

YEAH THAT'S RIGHT WE'RE BACK WE WEREN'T JOKING AROUND NOW GET IN THE CAR BEEP BEEP LET'S RIDE

CHARLI XCX - SPEED DRIVE [5.07]

Oliver Maier: A dark cloud seems to hang over Charli XCX as of late. Last year's perfectly passable Crash was touted by her as her "sellout" album, and while it charted impressively, it didn't demonstrate the effortless hitmaking that Charli sometimes implies she could pull off any time, if she only felt like it. That success instead has rather randomly gone to the risible "Speed Drive," her first UK top 10 since 2015 and first Billboard entry since a year prior. There's a lot I don't like about it, but enumerating its faults feels futile when it has the baked-in defense of just being a cute song for the Barbie movie!(!!!) Put simply, though, it's lazy to the point of feeling contemptuous. I have far fewer reservations about switching my brain off and having fun with pop when it feels like the artist is laughing with me, not at me. [2]

Alex Ostroff: On Crash, Charli started leaning into obvious interpolations to try to hit the charts. Hopefully, "Speed Drive" is the tail end of that tendency and not her new normal. The mashup of "Hey Mickey" and "Cobrastyle" works significantly better for me than the way she lifted from September and Robin S. for Crash singles, and there are a few excellent line deliveries, but this still feels like Charli on autopilot. The album's worth of unreleased songs with SOPHIE do more exciting and interesting things sonically than this PC-XCX retread, and if she isn't pushing the boundaries of pop music in weird and abrasive new directions, I'd much rather have the hooks and big choruses of "New Shapes" and "Lightning" than an under-two-minute sketch of an idea. The problem, of course, is that Charli on autopilot mashing up Robyn and Toni Basil, but fully committing to the performance and vocal delivery, still ends up giving us a: [6]

Alfred Soto: Charli XCX's reputation as a unsung pop master crumbles every time she releases another middling single. From the "Mickey" lift to the perfunctory rhythm track, "Speed Drive" is closer to assembly line than a Barbie factory. [4]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: The best Charli XCX songs in this lane are cleverly stupid ("Hot in It", "Yuck") or stupidly clever ("No Angel", "Vroom Vroom"), but this is just normal, garden-variety dumb -- less a song and more a collection of Pavlovian cues for stans to go wild over. All points here should be allocated to Easyfun, who at least does his job competently. [3]

Will Rivitz: Crash was Charli's worst release in nearly a decade for more reasons than I can fit in these few sentences, but most salient to "Speed Drive" was the record's uncharacteristically smooth polish. Her music achieves transcendence when it leans into its unsanded edges and hungover hedonism, channeling self-destruction and snottiness into bombast and excess. If it sounds like a first or second draft slapped onto Spotify before it's had the chance to hit a mastering studio, it's succeeded. Crash was too careful to hit those same highs, and as a result, its attempted mess felt lethargic and flat, indulgence as a single drunk cigarette instead of half an Adderall chased with absinthe. So, since "Speed Drive" sounds like it was mastered on a 2015 MacBook speaker and plays its two main interpolations as insouciantly straight as possible, it represents a return to form. Mess is more. [7]

Aaron Bergstrom: A perfectly acceptable Charli-by-numbers exercise: shiny, metallic PC Music production smeared over otherwise kitchy sonic references (and "Cobrastyle," which rules in any context); lyrics referencing cars, Japan, or cars in Japan; halfhearted attempt to tie it all back to Barbie somehow. [5]

Rachel Saywitz: Sonically, "Speed Drive" is one of the more interesting songs from this year's Barbie soundtrack -- unfortunately, that isn't saying much. A flurry of bubbling synth patterns echo the song's title, but what should be an exhilarating digital rush is overset by drab lyrics that sound like they came out of a Mattel exec's secret poetry diary (+ charm bracelet which unlocks the diary + a copy of the 2006 hit Barbie mocap film, The Barbie Diaries): "She my best friend in the whole world / On the mood board, she's the inspo / and she dressed in really cute clothes." Charli is in on the joke, but the joke isn't actually a joke -- it's a corporate branded major studio movie that was made to sell more toys, unable to subvert its maker no matter how many jokes it makes about male CEOs, discontinued toys, and "tax evasion issues." Can we just get Charli to soundtrack one of those poorly animated Barbie movies that know exactly what they are? Can we get a Barbie: The Princess and the Pauper remix album? Oh my god wait that would be incredible Mattel please call me I'll revoke my DSA membership please [5]

Hannah Jocelyn: I am a Barbie movie defender; you take your $100 million toy commercial and make the best possible trans allegory a cis woman can make, you have my respect. (Just as Little Women is the best queer movie a straight woman can make, love ya Greta!) I feel like mainstream feminism-attempting films, Barbie included, are so preoccupied with being Statements they'll sacrifice any momentum to get a message across. This is much less messy and complex than the movie it soundtracks, content to get in and out with its endearingly obvious samples. Charli's attitude makes the song sound more chaotic than it really is, but that effortlessness is a neat contrast to a movie that tries really fucking hard. Suddenly, I want to buy a 2024 Chevy Blazer EV. [7]

Brad Shoup: Like the vast majority of thinkpieces this movie elicited, this isn't really about Barbie, is it? It leaps into a gear and holds; there's nothing to distract you while the motor hums. It ends with Charli chanting "red lights," like she's desperate to pull over. [4]

Andrew Karpan: Perhaps the most important of the pop hits salvaged from an '80s nite at a club near you, "Speed Drive" is already a Greatest Hit among the stans, and justifiably so. Charli boils down what these nostalgia grabs are all about: misrememberences of a more understandable past, the fantasy of driving cars, the mood board stretched infinitely into the promise of a new century, the crux of Barbie itself. [10]

Jonathan Bradley: [A whiteboard with "Charli XCX Barbie soundtrack????" written on it and nothing else.] [3]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: Even on this throwaway soundtrack cut where Charli sounds like she's putting in 25%, her pop flourishes and mannerisms are undeniably powerful. It's the way she rhymes "whole world" with "inspo", knowing it doesn't work; the way she races through the chorus like she's bored and speed-reading random words on a page; the way she robotically drones "Li-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-ghts," unbothered at the laziness of the hook. This can't even clock in at two minutes. Give us nothing, queen! [7]

Kayla Beardslee: Charli understands how to craft a hook better than 99.99% of all musicians that have ever existed. [7]

Dorian Sinclair: I would not have thought to combine "Hey Mickey" with Robyn's "Cobrastyle" at all, let alone as part of a massive Mattel movie. Perhaps this is why Charli XCX is a pop star and I decidedly am not. The result mostly works, though it feels a bit less than the sum of its parts. And while I don't entirely get the focus on the car, maybe it's so she can run it back for the Hot Wheels film? [6]

Peter Ryan: Pop's foremost interpolator doubles down for a truly inspired how-hasn't-this-been-done moment. As a chase scene backdrop it's an [8], but on its own it's not even her third-best car tune. [5]

Katherine St Asaph: Brainless, reckless fun utterly unfit for purpose. The song is called "Speed Drive" and is perfect in tempo and stupidity for racing down the highway faster than God intended. And Charli still interjects "hah!" like no one else. But when do you go on the highway? When you're planning on driving for more than 2 minutes! [6]

Jeffrey Brister: Sleekly built, moves quick without fuss, pushes up a bit, but never really crests into high gear. I'm not asking for transcendence, but maybe an acknowledgement of a higher power while you lightly tap the gas pedal? [5]

Edward Okulicz: Having stopped writing good Charli XCX songs years ago, Charli XCX has, with this, ceased to even sound like Charli XCX. The only good bit about this is the "Mickey" interpolation. Driving around with this would give me a headache within about two miles. [2]

Vikram Joseph: In which Charli decides to write an AI version of a Charli song before the machines get there first. [4]

Will Adams: I will own up to being one of those who were WRONG and DUMB about "Vroom Vroom" when it first came out; I still wouldn't rate it highly, but I recognize its importance and impact on pop music. Special thanks to "Speed Drive" for helping me through that process by demonstrating what "Vroom Vroom" would sound like if there were significantly less effort. [3]

Jibril Yassin: Sucker needed this more than we did, but I'll take any new Charli songs that use actual choruses again. [8]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: I applaud Charli for staying faithful to "Hey Mickey": the only good thing here is the hook. [3]

Crystal Leww: Funniest thing about this song is that one of my best friends in the whole world made an edit of it, and once we were out, the original played and I was like, "man this is so slow." And then she told me that the BPMs are actually exactly the same. Good song for Charli in her popstar elder era, but I'd always rather be listening to the edit. [5]

Michelle Myers: This would have been a fine addition to my 2009 pre-gaming playlist. I can taste the Smirnoff Ice and MAC Lip Gloss. [6]

Samson Savill de Jong: This is a banger that resists much discussion, just pounding you with being really really good and fun and HOT (but not, funnily, at all sexy). It needs a third verse, as it's over just as it really gets going, but ultimately probably better to leave you wanting more than wishing it was over -- though I find it hard to imagine this couldn't have stretched all the way to 3 minutes. [8]

Ian Mathers: It's good, but I've gotta knock it for three things (all possibly totally unfair, but that's the Jukebox babey!!!!!): 1. "Mickey" is a fine song but I am so sick of this kind of interpolation; 2. it reminds me at least by implication of "Vroom Vroom," and you, ma'am, are no "Vroom Vroom"; 3. it's only my second favourite 2023 soundtrack Charli XCX is featured on. [6]

Leah Isobel: Enough time has passed that we can admit Crash was mid, right? That in marking the moment in which Charli finally, actually committed to being a pop star, it also signaled her turn from real emotion to two-dimensional shtick? That her fanbase not only enabled this particular turn, but made it her only viable option? That her career is now defined by the need to please a group of people who treat her work as impersonal meme-bait instead of creative output from a real person? That, viewed in this light, the fact that "Speed Drive" has become her biggest hit in a decade makes perfect sense, even though it's the unsatisfying sonic equivalent of a single leftover french fry, drenched in grease? That pop stardom is, in itself, the reduction of a real personality and perspective into a flat and marketable image; that the aching, sincere heart of True Romance is actually dead and buried; that my youth is never coming back; that all I have left is this shitty, misogynistic world? And that, despite everything, I am physically and emotionally incapable of scoring a Charli XCX song that samples fucking "Cobrastyle" lower than this? [4]

Tara Hillegeist: It says a great deal about Charli's grasp on how to make hedonistic abandon actually catchy, even after the multiple ways that particular approach to imperial phases has shown their ass, that she can nearly faceplant on a still-mangled enunciation of "kawaii" and yet almost get away scot-free with her brazen interpolation of "Hey Mickey." I can yet imagine this scoring a campily villainous dance number in a Russel T. Davies SFnal dramedy on BBC Three and working. Sadly, Rusty's currently on contract to Disney instead, so an entirely different sort of Toymaker seems to have run off with the obvious bait for tiresome queens at present, and I'm not sure the vibe quite comes together as the prophecy was meant to foresee. Too bad. It'd be an [8] if it did, but only hypothetically. [3]

Nortey Dowuona: The problem with "Speed Drive" isn't the flat, pedestrian drum programming, even though that roots the song to the ground and never lets it become the exciting driving song it's meant to be. The problem is Charli constantly pushing forward in her music to embrace the more compelling and vivid music of the late '10s, only to be over-praised for a competent rehash of already marked territory by her elders. The same happened to Earl Sweatshirt, who doubled back to play in more conventional positions then, after the praise, re-doubled down on his direction. The way to engage with their music is to stop jumping up to beg them to pander to our changing taste and the industry's desire to cling to conventional wisdom. Let the Charli XCX of 2014 go -- she doesn't exist anymore, Charli's competent Toni Basil cover notwithstanding. Maybe actually trust them to chart their own paths -- you crafted your own, right? [6]

Frank Falisi: The streamlining of Charli's glitch-heat into soundtrack-ready radio-licking songs is good! PC Music was always a project about products, caring and careful as it was. Pop is a product about the project of being alive -- it's its own experimentation, it doesn't require archness. But to be alive is to seek out live wires and hearts to plug into, to give shape to. The pastiche that has haunted Charli's work in recent years takes as its engine dead objects: nostalgia (Crash), flippancy ("Hot Girl", Bottoms), and now, incorporation (Barbie). Can you feel a song begin to think of itself as servicing an occasion instead of a feeling? But you don't have to rope in career tea-leafing to know "Speed Drive" is plain boring. More like a treatment for a song than a composition moving through ideas, it cannibalizes the occasion of "Vroom Vroom" for a compensatory GM tie-in, settling for chorus as brand shoutout and production that's nearly apologizing for itself. Haters -- Lovers? Likers? I can't imagine a human being loving this song -- will tell me it's a fun, short song written for a fun movie that's been over-think-pieced and that doesn't deserve the hyper-scrutiny it received. I still think we deserve better than just "just" as far as the product-as-art future Barbie takes to be inevitable. I also think -- whatever their occasion -- all the song sequences in the film felt disposably-conceived, thinking a little of partnering with the image and thinking a lot about servicing the partner, which is the brand. Maybe pop music in cinematic space has always been product placement of a kind. Or worse, once it was a way to show love through intertextuality and now it's the moving image as Tumblr page, a cloud of association, a hungry rolodex of fits. And the suggestion of a pleasurable essence isn't the presence of pleasure. I know there's no purity, I don't want purity. But you have to let "want" in, have to want "want" to mean more than "get." Otherwise it's the experimental rendered in a language we already know. What I mean is: every day the inclusion of "Boom Clap" in The Fault in Our Stars feels surer. [2]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox ]

[nihil-nan]

hello \[^.^]> Nihil here

Welcome to this random blog where all my interests-will, or already did- converge into weird soup... hopefully tasty soup still.

Skip to the end if you just want updates about this blog.

Anyway, introductions and info due:

I'm:

20

Egyptian

they/he/it. Gender is.. like.. like I have like one foot in the binary, and one foot and the rest of my body out in another dimension. I just refer to myself as a transmasc enby.

I'm asexual, alloromantic though, don't be fooled by the aro posting i just really like aro and aroace tumblr.

Am I nonhuman? not 100% sure. Do I believe in God? Does God even believe in me. Am I neurodivergent? I'm undiagnosed and have no idea what even starts to classify as divergent rather than typical.

Creating an interest list is overwhelming rn so I'll get to that point when I feel like it.

DNI IF

-You discriminate against a group of people in any way shape or form, I won't bother listing the discrimination types.

-You actively either encourage or cause any forms of harm on purpose. Bonus threat-to-society points if you think you're righteous.

-You're strictly and only NSFW porn related. I don't care.

-And if you're going to pester me about me needing to believe in your religion. I extra don't care.

-You think you'll dislike being around me or my blog... In that case why are you even here.

Blog Properties:

I'm inconsistent and my activity could vary from permenantly online to weekly check and silly reblog. I'm very much a lurker mainly so please @ or ask me it's totally chill and helps me stop lurking and start interacting with you more.

I cuss oftentimes without censorship, mostly as my favourite form of exclaimation or show of anger at something. You have been warned

I post about my current interests + relating to my identity and reblog cool stuff I find. I'll always tag any one interest in particular consistently, so just use the tag and you'll get all my specific stuff.

I've only posted about worldless so far. "worldless" is the tag, "worldless game" does NOT show all my posts.

Language: default English, I can still write and translate Arabic if needed.

Current Projects Status:

If you were wondering "wuh? Nihil weren't you really into Worldless and you wanted to do projects and stuff?" Currently I've struggled with 2 Worldless projects because I ran into both personal and technical issues at the same time, idk when I'll have any proper progress. I went a bit quiet on Worldless Tumblr because everytime I remember Worldless I rush to the projects I'm dealing with instead of the community.

-Basically I did a 100% run of both Edda and Aven only (excluding perfect trial and LUCA- LUCA for obvious reasons but perfect trial is totally possible) but the recording is way too long and chunky and I need to process it first (the processing part is so much more difficult than even doing the damned perfect trial with one of the duo at a time what the hell).

-And yes I announced long ago that I would create a set of save files to help kickstart the game from any point as a sort of live reference material or for whichever other need. I called it the sum total of all projects because what it meant for me is that I could review any situation, detail, animation, in game more conveniently and base future projects off of it. HOWEVER, creating multiple saves is a super buggy process in which I accidentally started a new world in which I had all the skill points and character progression despite all the enemies still being there (how). So with my laptop storage cussing me out and my cloud storage in absolute disarray I'm literally the "this is fine" meme rn and am scared to death I'll lose like my actual save files.

-With all that gibberish I forgot some of the memes and artworks I wanted to make for the game but another IMPORTANT thing I have in mind is my contribution to the fanzine. I have not started this but fingers crossed I create at least one thing for the fanzine by the end of August.

[crowleytwstrp]

Notice from Ghost Janitor

A) I have one message in the inbox that's been sitting since Dec 11th and that's due to me being somewhat lazy. I want to actually do some research into it as I'm somewhat curious and do wonder if it could give a better idea of how busy Crowley actually is.

B) I have two anon asks relating to ocs? Like one is definitely an oc, but the other doesn't really specify if it's an oc but I'm assuming it is. So reminder from the guidelines.

"Anyone may interact though for anyone wanting to use their oc I do request that anonymous not be used. I want to be certain the actual owner of the character is wanting to interact."

So for the vague RSA student, I'm not entirely sure if I should answer that. I don't know for sure who it's referring too and have no way of making sure it's not some popular fan oc that someone else is talking about. I only want the proper owners to refer to their ocs, not use others' ocs.

As for the other one, I plan to send a dm to make sure they did send the ask. If they weren't the one to send it, then I'm deleting that ask.

C) I got a picture of a spider in my inbox. As far as I'm aware, there's not a way to censor just the image. I don't want to spook anyone with the image so hopefully everyone with arachnophobia has the tags for spiders and such filtered.

Though considering the spider, it might be a bit spooky for people that are fine with spiders. Should I just answer the ask like normal and have the appropriate tags or do you all think it would work better if I reworked it into a post so I could hide the image under a "read more"/"keep reading" cut off?

Should I do that for any potentially triggering stuff?

Also I had to look up how to spell arachnophobia and google thinks it's a wise idea to show pictures of spiders being held right next to the definition. Pretty sure that isn't helpful for anyone with that fear and maybe wanting to grab the definition directly for someone and/or double-check their spelling.

I do plan to answer the ask with the spider, I just want to gather a general idea about how I should treat it as I do think fear of spiders is a well known phobia. (I myself really hate when I see a spider inside my house. Otherwise I'm usually fine though sometimes staring at a photo of a larger species can freak me out a little.)

Sorry for those waiting to be answered. I'm lazy.

[msbarrows]

Aug 29 - More Anno 1800. Decided I was fine with leaving off my current save where it was; I wasn't all the way to the end of the tech tree yet but I'd hit a point in which it was starting to get more aggravating than rewarding because of earlier things I'd done that meant I was wasting a lot of time in shipping things to places they weren't needed and being bottlenecked on development by not being able to ship enough of things I did need. Starting a new save game but I plan on spending much fewer hours a day on it, and (hopefully) using everything I learned on this playthrough to have a much more successful one.

Brother's tomato plants are starting to hit their stride with production; we have a big pile of tomatoes to use up already. I cut a bunch of them in half horizontally, placed them cut-side-up in a baking dish, sprinkled them with salt, pepper, oregano, and basil, drizzled them with olive oil I'd grated a clove of garlic into (yay for microplane graters) and then oven roasted them in a slow oven for a couple hours. Served them with mild Italian sausages and a mix of pasta and veggies (one of those Green Giant Valley frozen mixes).

Aug 30 - I try to avoid making big meals involving roast beast on days when my brother is working nights, since there's no elbow room for things like the roast needing a little extra cooking time, but miscalculated on how long a beef roast was going to take to defrost, so what I meant to cook for supper yesterday ended up being supper today instead. Was up to an internal temperature on the rare side of medium when I needed to take it out to rest before carving so hey, at least that worked out okay *wipes sweat from brow*. Served it with garlic mashed potatoes, fried mushrooms, and steamed mixed veg. Wasn't enough drippings to make gravy (it was a pretty lean sirloin tip roast) so I poured what little drippings there were in with the mushrooms for extra flavour there. They were delicious.

Brother had bought one of those big mesh bags of many fists of garlic yesterday, so when I was roasting one for the mashed potatoes I did nine of them in total, since they're going to be sprouting and/or dehydrating before I get through all of them otherwise (and some may well still). In the evening once they'd cooled to room temperature I removed all the cloves into a bowl, mashed them with a fork, then measured them out in 1 teaspoon lumps onto waxed paper, and stuck them in the freezer overnight.

Aug 31 - Packaged up the frozen roasted garlic. Using strips of plastic wrap, I'd line up 4-5 lumps with a gap between each lump, roll them in the wrap to have a long tube, then do a half twist between each lump to keep them separated. Placed all the tubes in a plastic tub and returned to the freezer; I can easily remove whatever amount I need for a recipe. I'll probably hold off on using them until I've actually used up the remaining fists of garlic, as we still have a ludicrous amount for just two people (even two people who both like garlic). I should probably take steps to preserve some of that too; raw garlic supposedly freezes well and I have a mini Gator chopper that's perfect for mincing in bulk; I could pre-mince a few bulbs and do the same saran wrap trick to freeze it in premeasured piles (probably moistened with a little olive oil so it holds together when I'm measuring it).

Didn't do much but game and crochet some more otherwise. Since yesterday was a complex meal prep I just grabbed the last of the premade pizzas out of the freezer for supper tonight.

Randomness: I'm amused by the differences in names for garlic, in its not-divided-into-cloves-yet form. Apparently it's also referred to as a loaf of garlic, a head of garlic, and a bulb of garlic. I call it a fist of garlic because that's the term one of my parents used for them when I was a kid. It seems to be one of the less common names for them, though I'm far from the only person who refers to them as such.

[littlewalken]

Dec 13

Thought it was going to be time to buy a new microwave, just changed spaces it was using on the power bar and hopefully that fixed things. Even if you don't really think about it change your power bar/strip regularly, they aren't extension cords, they don't last forever. Change your extension cords too.

Nothing like realizing one of the extension cords has paint from your 90s college bedroom on it in the 20s.

If your power bar has a light and the light is flickering or getting weaker it's a sign to change it. And don't overload them either.

Or maybe, Little Walken, you can live in a place younger than you with proper wiring and working outlets. Painted over pipes connected to a metal box outlet attached to the wall have a sort of Terry Gilliam's Brazil feeling. Except they could have pipes that weren't landlord white.

If I get to fancy arting today I have the want to get out the toned paper. If it's basic arting I might do some sketching in the book I keep with the reference pictures of on the loose paper I want to use up. I have a few pics I haven't really tried yet and want to get to.

Part of a Garak and Bashir idea is forming, I want a slight bit more of a logical reason to introduce the Plot Complication, but it would involve Dukat so desperately wanting to be the Main Character in a situation he goes beyond stepping too far to full on striding.

I might get back in to Good Omens for five minutes. I saved several of the more thought out who Crowley was when he was an angel posts from here to sort thru. Samael is a good candidate.

Haven't read the book yet but it helps to know that the death we saw in S1 was Azrael before my brain comes up with any stories.

I have an Azrael mythos for my own original writing and wouldn't want to get my Azrael mixed up with the Good Omens Azrael.

And to get the thought out of my head- When Adam Greydon Reid played the teacher Mr Stoneman on When Calls The Heart at least once he had to get in to Mr Shitler (that was the teacher's name) mode from YCDTOTV in front of the kids and say "Where do they find them and why do they keep sending them to me?"

If you can't stand WCTH and have to scream HOW ARE YOU FUNCTIONING IN 19th CENTURY SOCIETY WITH YOUR HAIR DOWN every time you see it, Adam plays a strict teacher so you know between takes he was lightening up so not to scare them. I strongly dislike kids but I'd be sure to break character between takes so they'd know we're just acting.

At the end the teacher supposedly learns his lesson about not being so strict and gets sent off to another school but you can see the 'fuck you, bitch' in his eyes. It's a melodrama for five year olds without many critical thinking skills.

There has to be at least one something on AO3 but as a writer I actually don't read much fiction.

But go watch Hospital Show.

[one-sad-human]

•Worth It• Duff Mckagan

Pairing: Velvet Revolver era! Duff Mckagan x Younger! Reader

Requested? Nope!

Theme: Little bit of everything/???

Warnings: Language, panic attacks, anxiety references, drug references

Word Count: 3k

A/N: Fic 2 of 2! This is the longest fic yet! Took a different approach to writing this one, hopefully it payed off. Let me know if you guys liked it or if I wasted my time with this one lol.

     You had met Duff in a coffee shop in LA. It was crowded and you were lucky enough to snag a chair before the lunch rush. Duff wasn't, and asked you if he could sit at your table.

     You grew up with Guns n Roses, bought his solo album the day it came out when you were just 15, and now listened to Velvet Revolver faithfully. To see your idol, your celebrity crush stand right in front of you holding a cup of coffee and a scone sent you for a loop.

     "Of course," you had said, starry eyed. You were only hoping he was as kind as the interviews made him out to be. Maybe have a conversation with you and be polite for a while before leaving and never seeing each you again. That would be good enough.

     It didn't end with a coffee, it had just begun. He asked for your number, and you stared at him for a moment thinking you had imagined it. That was until he tilted his head a little and looked at you with a nervous expression. He backtracked and you immediately stopped him.

     "No! I mean— yes! Yes, you can absolutely have my number." You scrambled for a pen and paper and ended up scratching your number on a receipt from the record store. You shook so hard you could barely get the numbers down.

     Out of all the record store receipts you've stuffed into your bag, the one you gave Duff Mckagan had to be the one for when you bought Velvet Revolver's 'Contraband.' He didn't say anything, just smiled and promised to call.

     You honestly didn't think he would've. You played it off as just him trying to be nice. It didn't stop you from answering every call you got for the next three days, however, even if you recognized the number as the tax collector you'd normally never answer.

     But then he called.

     "I tried calling sooner, but I kept calling the wrong number. You don't have the most eligible handwriting," he had told you. You laughed but really, you were in shock.

     You set up a date at the fancy restaurant downtown that always intimidated you. You didn't say anything though, even though you knew you wouldn't want any of the overpriced food and you'd end up eating something you couldn't pronounce and was two portions too small. Maybe even hit up a fast food joint afterwards.

     When the day finally came, you couldn't even figure out what to wear. You couldn't tell if you looked underdressed or like you were trying too hard. Did the clothes even fit the right way? What would Duff think? Would he even care?

     All questions were answered when you left your house. Duff was leaning against his slick car parked in your driveway, a button up that was barely buttoned and dress pants with boots. He stared at you and you wanted a hole in the ground to shallow you up until he smiles.

     "You look gorgeous," he said. You blushed and grinned, thanking him before saying that he looked great too. He drove you to the restaurant and on the way, you talked about music.

     You shared some of your favorites, he adored how well rounded you were. You liked pretty much everything from punk rock to the mellowest of mellow. Duff mentioned some of his favorites, some you made sure to remember the names of so you can check them out.

     When the ride was over and you finally got to the restaurant, your previous fears came back. Duff reassured you looked better than 90% of the people there and you knew it wasn't true but it made you feel better anyway.

     Your eyes widened to the size of saucers when you saw the prices of the food. You knew it'd be pricey but you thought there'd be more options that stayed within two digit numbers.

     Duff saw your panicked expression and said not to worry, he'd pay. It didn't settle your nerves enough and when the waiter came, you ordered the cheapest and simplest thing you could find.

     "Chicken noodle soup?" He teased. You shyly looked down and shrugged. "This isn't your scene, is it?"

     "Not exactly, no."

     "Want me to be completely honest with you?" You nodded. "It's not mine either."

     That's all it took for you and Duff to scramble sheepishly out of the restaurant. You both shared a laugh in the car and went to Burger King. It was much more your speed and, as you'd find out that night, Duff's too. You suppose all the money he's had since such a young age didn't completely change his ways. He was like a kid trapped in a 40 year old man's body.

     You'd thought at first the age gap would feel strange, after all, you were 15 years younger than him. But after that night, it was barely noticeable. Funny looks from strangers every once in a while was nothing.

     By the second date, Duff was already aware fancy spots weren't your forte. He told you it was a surprise and to wear something cozy, as LA nights got chilly.

     He packed a picnic basket and drove you out to the most beautiful flower field you had ever seen at sunset. It was secluded and high up, giving a perfect view of the city skyline. After gawking and taking in the sights for a few moments, you regained your ability to speak.

     "It's gorgeous. Pretty far from the city, did you take me here to kill me?" You joked. He laughed and rolled his eyes. His lighthearted laugh sent sparks straight to your heart, and you decided that it was your favorite sound.

     You unfolded the blanket Duff brought and you both sat down. You ate the sandwiches and sliced fruit Duff packed and talked. You talked about everything, from your family to fears and insecurities.

You told him how you suffer from nightmares. Flashbacks from your broken childhood coming back to bite you in your sleep. Duff shared how he's suffered from panic attacks since he was a teenager. You felt you knew each other for years.

Neither of you felt weird for sharing and neither made the other insecure. You were completely open and honest with each other. It was strange, you've never connected to quickly and effortlessly with someone before. Sure, you've had men in your life, but never had you clicked with someone so fast, never had you fit with someone so perfectly.

Hours passed and it felt like minutes. Only did you realize how late and how exhausted you were when you saw most of the city buildings light have gone off for the night. The city that didn't sleep was dark.

"I should get you home," Duff said to you.

"Will you stay the night?" You felt a little silly for asking. Were things going too fast? Would he even want to stay over?

He agreed, and that's how your first night together went. You both stayed up even later and had more lighthearted conversations, unlike the ones that partook at the field. Like how one of Duff's first jobs was at a bakery and could bake a mean cake and how you can't cook to save your life.

You ended up waking up without remembering falling asleep. You're head was placed comfortably on Duff's lap while his head was lolled back against the couch cushion. He looked so serene and peaceful you couldn't help but smile at the sight.

You made toast and somewhat successfully cooked some eggs and bacon. It might have been the first breakfast in years that didn't end with the smoke alarm going off.

Duff eventually wandered into the kitchen and you both ate. By the time he left, another date was already set up. He was like a drug an you were already hooked.

Months later and the addiction still wasn't kicked. You didn't want to, and Duff didn't seem to want you to quit either. You both soaked each other up like the sun on a warm day.

You had almost weekly dates and you stayed over each other's houses almost every other day. Duff did have his kids some days, though, so some days dates were cut short or Grace and Mae slept over his house and you wouldn't see each other.

You were always understanding, his kids came first and you'd never blame or get upset about it. It's something Duff admires about you, your never ending understanding and empathy for him.

One of those days where Duff stayed over at your house started normal. He cooked dinner and you washed the dishes, and then you put on an old Ramones concert you had on DVD.

You were laying on his chest, his fingers running through your hair when all of a sudden, he tensed up. He quickly stood and excused himself to the bathroom. You frowned but before you could think much of it, you heard a loud bang and something clatter to the ground.

You jumped up and rushed to the bathroom. You swung open the door because you were perfectly aware the lock hasn't worked since you moved in.

Duff was sitting on the floor, a pill bottle laying on its side not far from him. You quickly spot the name of the medication and identified it as your anti-anxiety pills. You shoved them aside and sat next to Duff.

He was sweating bullets and his skin felt cold and clammy, his breaths were labored and heartbeat was loud and pounding erratically. You coax him gently to take deep breaths, holding onto his hand tightly and talking quietly.

"I'm sorry, they come on randomly sometimes," he apologized after he'd called down, but you quickly shushed him. You reminded him of just how many nightmares he'd comforted you for and he stops feeling so bad about it.

     It was always a true partnership with Duff. Never had you felt you gave or took too much, it was always equal. Always a two way street, with everything.

That wasn't the last panic attack you had to help him come down from. Later down the line you've gotten better at calming him down and learning his triggers, even though sometimes they really do come on suddenly without reason.

A year into the relationship was when you met Grace and Mae. They were young and didn't completely understand why their parents weren't together anymore, so it took them a while to warm up to you. Luckily, they eventually came around.

Duff and Susan met up regularly to discuss their kids and co-parent properly. And while you had all the reason to be jealous of your boyfriend with his ex wife, you never did. You had complete confidence in him, he was honest and loyal and you doubted he'd ever hurt you purposely.

That's why it destroyed you when he left you. Tears were shed from both parties as he gave his reasons for breaking up with you. His insecurities he tried his best to bury had come to light and nothing could change his mind.

You thought you were completely honest with each other, but you suppose his doubt in his relationship with you was the one thing he kept secret. He had somehow convinced himself you'd be better without him, between the constant touring and the baggage that came with him and his kids, he finally buckled under the weight and stress.

You had tried to convince him that he was worth it, but if Duff is one thing it's stubborn. The best relationship you'd ever have and the best year of your life went down the drain within the matter of one conversation.

You were down in the dumps for days. You barely left your bed and didn't ever leave your house. You were in a depression and couldn't get out. A few of your friends eventually found out what had happened and broke into your house and shoved you into the shower before taking you to your favorite Chinese restaurant.

You felt like a disaster. Your hair was ratted despite the shower and you refused to put real clothes on, instead wearing sweatpants and a shirt Duff had left behind. You were a mess.

The hole in the wall restaurant was never busy but always had the best food. You were almost happy your friends dragged you out of your home until you saw Duff sitting at a table, eating egg rolls and lo mein.

You've came here together all the time. The high sodium in the food always made him sick to his stomach and you'd always end up giving him nausea remedies and tea. He never changed his order though.

You locked eyes with him for a while. Dark bags were under his eyes and he looked more pale than usual. He looked as terrible as you felt. You weren't sure if you were spitefully glad he felt awful or if the despair on his face just made your heart break further.

When you couldn't take his intense jade stare anymore, you looked up at the menu. The next time you looked back he was gone, you weren't sure if he was really there at all or if you were finally losing your mind for good.

     Another week crawled by. You got better enough to continue working. You had to pick up extra time for calling out for a few days after the breakup. You wouldn't say things were going well, but you weren't crying in bed every day all day anymore.

     You had constant dreams about him. Some were nice, ones where he didn't leave and you were together, holding each other tightly. Most were nightmares, flashbacks of when he left. You didn't have him to comfort you anymore when you woke up soaked in sweat and tears, and that might've been the worst.

     Another week went by, and you were starting to get back into the swing of things. You still thought about him, even silly little things reminded you of him. Like when you would catch a sniff of freshly baked sweets like he'd bake you or certain songs playing on the radio. It also didn't help that you ran into people wearing Guns n Roses shirts on the daily.

     You also refused to get rid of anything he'd left behind. Tee shirts, guitar picks he left from when he'd play for you, or CDs from bands he introduced you to. Reminders of what you lost were scattered around your home but you couldn't bring yourself to do anything about it.

     Suddenly, it's been a month. You weren't over him, but you had a feeling you'd never be completely. He was something special, you can't forget things as special as your relationship with Duff.

     His items still weren't thrown out or returned, instead all packed in a box sitting in your closet. But you'd be lying if you said you would never reach into the box to grab a shirt to sleep in or a CD to listen to when you needed a reminder of the good times. You were making progress though.

     You decided to leave your house one evening. You were feeling especially terrible and wanted to take a walk to clear your head. You went to the coffee shop you had first met Duff in. Maybe it was a mistake to go and get a flood of memories but you couldn't stop yourself.

     You sat in a seat near the window and people watched, taking occasional sips of your drink. It was quiet except from the talk of the workers and the hum of the overhead speakers.

     There was a sudden squeak of a chair of hardwood floors and it broke you out of your daze. You snapped your gaze up to meet the very familiar green eyes you've been trying to forget.

     "Can we talk?" He asked, and you couldn't say 'no.' Duff sat across from you and started off by apologizing.

     He said he wanted to talk to you sooner, but was too afraid you wouldn't want anything to do with him. You rolled your eyes at that, if only he knew just how much you missed him.

     He then started from the beginning and explained why he made the decision to leave you. As it turns out, it was mostly because of stress. His bandmate Scott was having problems with drugs and the flashbacks from his GnR days frightened him. He was worried he would end up relapsing and he didn't want to drag you down with him.

     Combine that with all the troubles that came with dating a single father, and he couldn't take it anymore. He felt too guilty.

     It all seemed like ridiculous reasons to you. Even if he had made the mistake of falling off the wagon, you still would've stuck with him. And you didn't mind his kids at all, after nearly a year of knowing them and you were very close to them.

     "I love you, Duff. I wouldn't have left you over that, I'd help you through anything. And I love Grace and Mae, too," you told him.

     "I know, but I didn't want you to have to deal with all that baggage." You frowned at that. You reached your hand across the table and grasped his, squeezing it tenderly.

     "You're worth it."

     After that day, you and Duff started seeing each other again. It wasn't the same as before, but maybe even better.

     You were more transparent with each other. If one had a worry or problem, you'd go to the other. You talked everything through with him and he did the same. Even if it seemed insignificant, talking everything through never failed to make it better.

    You were happier and healthier than ever before. Sure, there were a roadblock or two, but they only made the relationship even stronger, and you wouldn't have changed a thing about it.

[indiee19]

She Does The Woods

Alex Turner x reader

Summary: You and a buzzed Alex go for a walk and a picnic in the woods and you can't resist how good he looks.

warnings: smut, oral sex (m! receiving), typical cliché couple things

word count: 2.8k

-Once again, Thea wrote this.

A/n: this song is literally the best song off the album. Argue with the wall if you disagree. Also, I'm working on the requests, so please be patient, I'm trying to do all of them. (And thank you, Thea.)

✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑ ✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

You reached up on the shelf of the small storage closet , getting the picnic blanket down from the very top, putting it in the basket. Alex had promised you that he would take you on a picnic this weekend. You impatiently waited the whole week for this day, wondering where Alex was taking you on the picnic.

You heard the door open and heard Alex's footsteps as he padded down the hallway, looking for you, eager to see the outfit you chose to wear. He hadn't seen you since this morning when you both woke up and had spent the entire morning in bed, making you feel so good like he always did. You'd asked him to go get some fruit from the store while you finished the rest of the food you were going to eat on the picnic.

"Baby, where are you!" he shouted from across the hallway.

"In the kitchen, Al!" you yelled back. He walked into the kitchen, finding and watching you finish putting everything away. He walked over to the kitchen island where you were at, handing you the fruit he had bought for the picnic.

You thanked him and put it away along with everything else in the basket. Alex walked behind you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist, pushing your hair away and kissing up your neck.

"Al, stop," you laughed, pushing him away.

"What if we don't go on the picnic and just stay here?" he asked, continuing his kisses up your neck. "No, Al. You promised me that you would take me on this picnic and I've been looking forward to it all week, so we're going on it," you replied, turning around, grabbing the bandana around his neck and capturing his lips in a soft kiss.

He sighed and moved away, going to the family room. You finished packing everything up and went to the family room, sneaking up behind Alex, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Are you ready to leave, my love?" you asked, kissing his cheek. He stood up, turning around and kissed you. "Yeah, princess. You go get the basket and I'll start the car," he replied, walking to the door and grabbing the keys.

You went to the kitchen and grabbed the basket, also grabbing your polaroid camera from the bedroom, though you didn't think that you would need it at all, and walked out the door after locking it.

You saw Alex in the car, fiddling with the radio, trying to figure out how to connect the Bluetooth on his phone to the car radio. You got in and laughed at him, amused at his small amount of knowledge on technology even though he had many references of it on his latest album.

"What're you laughing at?" he asked, clearly still frustrated with the Bluetooth on his phone.

"Nothing, I just find it hilarious that you have a very extensive vocabulary and are a talented songwriter, but you can't understand how to use technology, though your album has quite a few references to it," you laughed.

He playfully pouted and then went back to his phone to figure out how to connect his phone to the car. You laughed again and he glared at you.

"Do you need some help, my love?" you asked. Alex nodded and accepted the fact that he couldn't figure it out and handed you the phone.

You quickly explained to him how to do it and connected it to the radio. You then turned on something from The Beatles; Alex started to pull out of the driveway. You and Alex started singing along, him more than you and you watched the concentration on his face as he drove and as he sang, his angelic voice ringing in your ears and you didn't mind.

The car came to a stop light and Alex turned to you. "I want to hold your hand," he sang, taking your hand in his. You laughed and sang along with him, though you weren't nearly as good as a singer as Alex, your voice couldn't compare to his in any way possible.

The red light had turned green and Alex began driving on the road again, hand still holding yours as he continued to sing the rotor the song. You watched his facial features in the light that was hitting him through the window. You focused on his lips mainly, watching them move as he sang, remembering how they felt on your own, moving against yours in sync, just like the way he sang the song - in sync.

"Alex," you said, dragging out each syllable of his name. He looked at you then back at the road. "Yeah, princess?" he said.

"Where are we going?" you asked. He turned right and began to slow the car. "It's a surprise," he smiled, taking a few more turns.

"Please, I want to know, Al," you said, leaning over to kiss his cheek then his neck, lightly sucking on his neck just below his ear, hoping that somehow he would give in to you ad would answer your question.

"As much as you kiss me, I still won't tell you until we get there," he said. You stopped sucking on his neck, and sat back in your seat, playfully pouting.

"Now, look, just because I won't tell you doesn't mean that you have to stop kissing me," he said slyly, grabbing your hand and bringing it to his lips, placing a kiss to it.

"No, you won't tell me. No answer, no kiss," you laughed. Alex dramatically gasped and laughed. The rest of the drive was fairly typical and cliché, Alex singing his heart out, reaching over and kissing you whenever there was a red light.

You certainly didn't mind it being cliché if it meant that he kissed you, though you did wish that he would tell you were he was bringing you. It was only ten minutes before he pulled the car to a parking lot and parked the car, pulling the keys out of the ignition.

You opened the car door and stepped out, looking around. He had brought you to a dirt trail for hiking - in the woods.

"Really, Alex, the woods?" you asked. He got out of the car himself, and shut the door, opening the back door to get out the picnic basket.

"What?" Alex asked, walking around to the other side, grabbing you by the waist.

"First of all, you're literally wearing a black leather jacket, black trousers, and a button up ... and boots, it's way to hot for that. And plus, the drinks will get all hot," you said, gesturing to his attire and the picnic basket.

"It'll be fine, princess," he said, moving his hand to the small of your back, leading you onto the trail. He held onto you, knowing that it was way too hot, but still wanting to be close to you, always wanting to touch you.

He stopped when you both reached a secluded part of the trail that no one else was on, and to be honest, looked like no one really ever used it anymore.

"Okay, this is really giving me the 'I'm taking you out to the woods in a secluded area to kill you' vibes, Al," you joked, Alex letting go of you, you turning to look around the spot.

"You're right, me love, I am going to murder you," Alex laughed, grabbing you from behind, placing kisses on your neck, sucking on a spot. You laughed and pushed him away. "Alex!"

"Hey, come 'ere," he said, turning you around, kissing you deeply, shocking you. Your arms snaked around his neck, his hands traveling down your waist to your ass. He pulled you closer to him, your front now pressed up against his chest, biting your bottom lip teasingly, demanding entrance.

"Alex, we-we can't, not here," you said breathlessly, the breath you had now gone from the steamy kiss you and Alex just shared.

"Why not?" he asked, confused about why you wouldn't want him, even though you did and he knew that.

"Because, Alex, I'm not shagging you in the woods. Besides, someone could walk past us and see what we're doing," you answered, adding in the last part to try and explain to him why you couldn't even though you wanted to, but not as much as Alex wanted to.

He didn't seem to take that response to well, instantly kissing to hopefully persuade you into doing it. You felt him hard through his pants, and as much as you were afraid of getting caught, you had to admit that the thrill of it would be kind of fun and you moved your hand to palm him through his jeans.

Alex groaned into your mouth, breaking the kiss to suck on your neck to keep him quiet. You backed him up against a tree and suck down onto your knees, undoing his belt and jeans, pulling down his underwear just far enough for you to pull out his cock, slowly stroking him, placing a few light kisses to his tip, watching him as his head fell back against the tree.

He groaned in response before you took all of him into your mouth, his hands coming down on the back of your head, gripping your hair.  He felt heavy on your tongue and flattened it so that he could fit better in your mouth. You started to bob your head up and down on his length, enjoying the small, quiet moans Alex was letting out.

You hollowed your cheeks, Alex pushing your further onto him, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat causing you to choke a little, but nevertheless, you continued. "Yesss, princess," Alex hissed, gripping your hair even tighter than before, moving you up and down on his length at a rate of his liking.

You looked up at him through your eyelashes, watching his face scrunch up in pleasure as you continued to bob your head, your tongue swirling his tip, hollowing your cheeks again.

You could tell that he was close when he started to buck his hips into your mouth, his cock hitting the back of your throat continuously as he bucked his hips. You swallowed around him and hollowed your cheeks once again, sending him over the edge. His hips stilled as his cock twitched inside your mouth and you felt his release hit the back of your throat, swallowing it.

He pulled you off of his cock by your hair, helping you stand up, holding onto you and he tugged up his underwear and trousers, fixing his belt as well. "Happy?" you joked, kissing his cheek.

"Very," he said, pecking your mouth. You laughed briefly. "Funny. We haven't even been here an hour and I've already sucked you off. And I've already got dirt on my pants," you said, gesturing to the dirt on your knees through the rip in your pants, getting the picnic blanket out of the basket and laying it on the ground, placing the picnic basket on it.

You sat down and Alex sat across from you, digging into the basket to see what you packed, picking the container that held the strawberries, getting one out, holding it to your mouth. You opened your mouth and took a bite out of it, Alex pulling it away from you and put it on the container lid.

"Let's see, what else did you pack in 'ere?" he said to himself, digging around in the basket more.

"There should be a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in there for you," you said, helping him find it. He thanked you and took it out of the container that it was in, taking a bite, managing to get some jelly on his fingers.

Alex laughed and put the sandwich down, licking his fingers clean of the jelly. You couldn't help but let your mind wander, thinking of very dirty things that Alex would no doubt think of. Imagine what he could do with those fingers, was all that was going through your mind, so much so that you didn't even realize that you were starring straight at him.

"Can I help you, princess?" he asked, noticing how much you were starring at him, specifically his arms and fingers. You tried to come up with an answer but you couldn't form any words at all, turning into a stuttering mess.

"Who's having the dirty thoughts now, eh?" he laughed, taking off his sunglasses. "Come 'ere, princess."

You hesitantly moved over to beside him, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you into his lap. "Tell me, love, if I touch you, will you be wet?" he teased, unbuttoning your jeans, pushing his fingers in them to play with the waistband of your panties that were slowly but surely dampening.

"Y-yes," you whimpered, voice trialing off into a moan when his fingers brushed against your clothed clit.  He lightly chuckled before moving the cloth of your panties to the side, his fingers teasing your folds.

You buried your head into Alex's neck to try and hide the indescribable amount of pleasure that he was giving you. "No, look at me," Alex drawled,  pulling you up by your hair. You looked up at him, starring into his big, brown doe eyes.

"Do you need me, love? Because I need you," he said. You quickly attached your lips to his, letting his tongue slip past them, exploring your mouth. You hesitantly pulled away, moving to shuffle out of your jeans, Alex undoing his belt and pants, pulling them down, along with his underwear, just far enough for his cock to spring free.

You sat back down in his lap, sitting up on your knees to move your panties aside, positioning Alex's cock at your entrance, Alex's hands going to your hips to keep you there. He pulled you down slightly; you whimpered when you felt the tip of his cock poking inside of you, hands gripping his shoulders.

"Alex, please, I need you," you said, knowing how much he enjoyed hearing you beg and whimper for him, desperate for his cock to fill you up so good.

He smirked, pulling you all the way down on him, throwing his head back, a soft moan falling from your lips. Once you were fully adjusted to his size, you pushed him down to be laid on his back. His hands were still on your hips, watching you as you began to slowly move. You sat up on your knees, his cock almost slipping out of you. His hands held you in place on him, his cocky smirk plastered all over his gorgeous face. Even though you were on top, he still had all of teh control.

Without warning, he let go of your hips, letting you slip all the way back down on him, his hands going back on your hips, helping you move on him and you moaned loudly. You slowly began to roll your hips on him, the pace gradually increasing. Soon you started to bounce up and down on him; Alex started to thrust up into you in sync with your own movements, driving you closer and closer to your high that you were now chasing.

His thrusting into you slowly began to get faster and faster, and you couldn't keep up with them. One of Alex's hands found your clit, rubbing small circles on it, driving you closer to your orgasm. You threw your head back and felt Alex's free hand travel under your shirt, massaging your breasts through your bra.

"God, love, you f-feel so good," Alex moaned, clearly just as close as you.

"Alex, I-I'm so close," you whimpered, Alex thrusting into you faster, bouncing you on his cock. "Cum for me, love," he said, thrusting up into you one final time, flicking your clit, sending you over the edge, your walls contracting around him, triggering his own release. He held you down on him and you felt his cock twitch, his release spurting inside of you. You collapsed on top of him.

You were both panting, sweat pooling on Alex's head. "I love you so much, princess," he said, kissing the top of your head.

"I love you too," you replied, struggling to stand up, sighing at the emptiness that was left when you lifted up off of him. "Oh, shit," you laughed, feeling his release run out of you, sure to stain your underwear, quickly putting on your jeans.

Alex pulled up his pants and underwear as well, doing his belt back up. "So, should we finish our picnic now?" he said, eating another strawberry, you sitting back down, digging into the basket, looking for something to eat yourself; you nodded to Alex.

[shadowsinger11]

Kinktober: Day 3

Pairing: Song Mingi x Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: 18+, breast play, dry humping, making out, fingering, praise kink with a sprinke of degradation, edging, begging, a bit of sensory play, mingi being a soft boi who fucks you into loving yourself

A/N: Wasn't originally planning on posting it today although it's been sitting in my docs for awhile, but I thought it might be comforting for folks who struggle with body image. Body dysmorphia and possibly gender dysphoria below, interpret the trope as you will and hopefully, you'll feel *way* better after reading~

Kinktober taglist:

@hongjoongsbae @straykisz @winterciella

***

It was warm, way too warm for your liking. The tight woolen fabric clung to your body tightly, causing you to sweat, and effectively restricting your arm movements. You tried turning around a couple of times, but the hems hiked up your stomach, resulting in you pulling them down forcefully. But most of all, you despised the way the sweater wrapped around your chest.

The occasion was calling for it, you had considered; fall was coming to an end, bringing winter on its tail, and you were more than excited to take out all the cosy hoodies and sweaters, waiting in your wardrobe. However, looking back at the past enthusiasm with which you had sorted out the thick clothing with Christmas carols playing in the background, you couldn't help but tear up. The fluffy shirts did not fit you the way they used to, or at least the way you recalled. Even the plain black, but elegant turtleneck which you intended on wearing on an evening walk downtown was suffocating you along with your desire for a good time.

The human-sized mirror did not help either, providing what looked like a distorted image of you; you were terrified to believe it. Neither were you able to believe Mingi who persistently tried to drown out the repetitive self-degrading words in your mind with tons of praise and compliments, genuinely admiring your body in clothing of the upcoming season. 

He was making an immense amount of effort and you were aware of this, thus exactly why you were overwhelmed by the guilt of not doing better. Nevertheless, your boyfriend never grew tired of giving you courage when things got rough, instead using it as an opportunity to show his love for you in ways that brought him joy.

But the tight fabric didn't bulge at the happy thoughts you tried to summon.

You were just about to grab the hem of the turtleneck when the door creaked open, followed by a voice, as sweet as it had always been towards you.

"Love? How are you holding up here? Need help?"

You swallowed down the realisation and took off the shirt. Not meant to be.

"Doing just fine, I'll be down in a few," you said vaguely, opening the closet to grab the closest item you could get your hands on. So much for wanting to dress up for once.

Amongst the hurry on your part and the clothes scattered on the floor, Mingi effortlessly spotted the sadness in your voice, causing him to quickly approach you.

"You're unusually gloomy," he noted, concerned, placing a hand on your shoulder. "You were thrilled half an hour ago, what's the matter?"

You couldn't look at him, not when his eyes were burning a hole into your head. You didn't have it in you to explain either, mind messier than your room at that moment.

An oversized hoodie caught your attention.

"Having trouble picking," you said short and clear, referring to the clothes. You weren't planning on ruining the night for him. "Thought it wouldn't take long."

Mingi tilted his head and you could hear the gears in his brain turning. You threw on the hoodie, hoping to get ready before he'd question further, but alas, he was quick to read between the lines and grabbed your waist as you turned around to leave.

"All I see is clothes you've loved so far, yet you refuse to put on any of them. Why is that?"

"I'm tired of wearing the same outfits, I suppose," you said nonchalantly and attempted to escape his grasp which only tightened, causing you to freeze in place. Sensing your distress, Mingi kissed your head; he hated seeing you panicked and embarrassed. You lowered your head and your silence was his cue to speak.

"I'm not forcing you to tell me everything," he began, hands loosening their grip as you decided to stay still and listen regardless. "However, I'm almost sure it's not your boredom causing your stress. I just need to hear what it is."

His gentle manner of speaking along with the soft tapping of fingers on your lower back were enough for your throat to tighten and your eyes to get blurry.

"Nothing fits me the way I remember. I have no idea why I suddenly dislike how my clothes look on me," you said in between whimpers, fidgeting with the hems of your sleeves. Mingi stayed silent the entire time. "I just can't stand seeing myself, especially this…" you motioned towards your chest, "...area."

Although you stopped to take a breath, Mingi didn't speak, instead reaching out to wipe away a tiny tear at the corner of your eye.

"It's not even about the size though that bothers me too. They just don't… look right," you explained, frustrated. Mingi only nodded, entire focus on you. "They sometimes annoy me so much to the point of wanting to chop them off. It might sound bizarre, but I wish I was kidding."

You finally looked up at Mingi for response and he brought your hand to his lips, kissing each fingertip.

"First of all, it's not bizarre in the slightest," he stated firmly. "And second of all, I can assure you that you're perfectly shaped the way you are. Your body is correctly proportioned and doesn't need changing unless it causes you discomfort. Then I'd gladly support you in changing the size or even removing them altogether if that would make you feel better.

He kissed your forehead, "I just want you to be happy."

A huge smile fought off the tears in your eyes, nearly splitting your face in two, and you stood on your toes to kiss Mingi. He wrapped his arms around your waist once again, clinging you to his body and returning your kiss with twice as much force.

You pulled away for air, "That's the first time someone is truly supportive of me, I can't thank you enough."

"It's what you deserve, darling," he smiled. "You're desirable and loved no matter how you feel about yourself."

You didn't have time to reply as Mingi captured your lips again, drowning out the gasp you let out. You tangled your fingers into his silver hair and let yourself be lifted up by your hips and placed on the bed behind you. Mingi found his place between your legs, lips on yours, as his fingers gently slid under your hoodie. He caressed your stomach and waist and you flinched at the contact, but soon melted under his touch, tender movements never ceasing.

His mouth traveled down to your neck and you turned your head to the side to give him more access, moaning at the feeling of being trapped underneath him. Mingi left sloppy kisses everywhere he could reach, stopping one he found your pulse point and beginning to suck. Your legs instinctively closed around his thigh, and he leaned forward, grinding up and down your clothed core with his knee.

Your skin was set afire when his fingers teasingly trailed the underside of your bra, threatening to slip under. You threw your head back in frustration, causing Mingi to smirk, then returned to working the blue hickey on your neck until he was satisfied, successfully pissing you off.

"Please…" you sighed, more aroused rather than angry.

Your boyfriend eagerly sat up and helped you out of your hoodie which joined the pile of clothes on the floor. You reached to kiss him once more, but he beat you to it, grabbing your wrists with one hand and pinning them to the bed above your head. His other hand boldly cupped one of your breasts, thumb grazing the hems of your bra, then slipping under the strap to pull it and let it snap back into place. 

His skilled hands were on you, but not quite, and the insanity that came with being restrained caused you to buck your hips into his. At least the bulge in his jeans was eloquent enough about his own lack of patience.

The trail of kisses lowered down to your collarbone and the valley of your breasts, sneaky hand coming behind your back to unclip your bra. Once fully exposed and trapped under his body, you looked up into his eyes which were already staring at you, full of a darker shade of love.

Mingi leaned down to peck your lips before doing the same to your left breast, peppering the area with gentle quick kisses, and you sighed happily. He repeated the actions on the other one and you closed your eyes, intending to fully relax. However, when tongue joined the path of his lips, your back arched. Mingi did not hold back, mouth attaching to one nipple, tongue circling the bud slowly before sucking hard on it. 

You couldn't help the string of moans that echoed in the room, encouraging Mingi to roll your other nipple with a thumb and forefinger, knee pressing roughly into your core. You kept humping his leg, mouth agape in pleasure and eyes rolled back, completely giving into the sensations Mingi was giving you.

He moved his attention to the other nipple with just as much enthusiasm and your mind went blank when his free hand slipped into your pants.

"Please…" you begged again, referring to the wetness you were sure he had already found. He smiled to himself, having felt your soaked underwear, and let his fingers travel underneath, running them up and down your pussy.

You were positively trembling, painfully anticipating him to do something, anything, but did not pick up the pace, nor did he grant you a kiss, he just watched you struggle.

However, he remembered why he was doing this and finally let his fingertips graze your clit, causing you to let out a moan of relief. You fell back down, spreading your legs further for him, and that only made you even more beautiful in his eyes - he was devoured by the sight of you splattered on the bed, sweaty, shaking and consumed by your own pleasure. Your euphoria was his drug.

Fastening the pace, he was looking down at you both with admiration and lust, gaze shamelessly exploring each and every curve of yours. You could only do so much with your wrists pinned to the bed, no other choice but to face the tidal wave of pleasure while staring helplessly into Mingi's eyes, sinful warmth spreading throughout your body.

Your staggered breathing, accompanied by choked moans, was his cue to get bolder, leaning down once again to suck at a nipple, fingers tirelessly working you up towards a release. The last bits of shame left you with each thrust of his hand, and you lost yourself to the sensation of his hot tongue all over your chest along with his fingers flicking your clit.

"Let go, you deserve it," Mingi mumbled between your breasts and it was all it took you to unravel, releasing all over his palm. He groaned at your walls clenching around his hand, followed by wetness coming out, as he continued to work you through your orgasm, pumping out cum for all it was worth. You were drowning in his touch as well as the praise falling from his lips as he watched you crumble, taking pride in knowing the hot mess underneath him was for him only, and no one else.

Once you rode out your high, your arched back relaxed and you let out a deep breath, summoning consciousness. Mingi let go of your wrists, reaching out a hand to caress your messy hair, and smiled, causing his dimples to appear. You were glowing.

"Beautiful," he whispered, mostly to himself, as happy wrinkles showed up in the corners of his eyes. 

You heard him nonetheless. And one day, you hoped you'd believe him.

***

Kinktober Masterlist 2021

[wellthatschaotic]

On Being A Parative

(disclaimer: i'm writing from personal experience only, i can't speak for any other paratives)

i've noticed there's a lot of talk about fictives, but i haven't seen a whole lot about paratives- so i decided to make a post myself!

Paras and Paracosms

paras are the characters in neuronarrator's daydreams (such as MaDD (maladaptive daydreaming disorder) and ID (immersive daydreaming)). paracosms are the worlds the daydreams take place in, and where the paras reside. neuronarrators can have one paracosm, or many! they're usually fairly complex, as well.

Paratives

paratives are members of a system who are from the paracosm and/or were previously paras, but have now become members (we like to refer to this as "being 'tived").

Dreamway Systems

dreamway systems are a subset of gateway systems, where the world the system is connected to is their paracosm(s).

Being A Parative

i come from one of our main paracosms, in the world Etheria. it's very expansive, trying to explain the world would be like trying to explain earth- i might write a later post on some of the lore, though. i'm not entirely sure when i was "thought up" as a para, but i know it was a while ago. i joined the system (got 'tived) a while ago, too- i don't entirely remember how that felt at the time. (adrian just said it's "weird as shit" and eli added "confusing as shit" if that helps /lh)

i have expansive exomemories of growing up and stuff, some of them i remember clearer than body memories. i could probably tell a bunch of stories about them, too, but i'll save that for later. some of the exomems come from times of my life we never actively daydreamed, like when i fell out of that tree because i thought my wings were fledged. they weren't. i don't know why i remember that ldfajkldf /lh

this is also probably a good time to mention i'm not human, and neither is most of our system. i'm a faerie, in fact! i often get phantom wings and horns in this body, which i can move and feel to some extent even though they can't interact with this world. i have my own solid form in the paracosm and headspace, and i like to make picrews of myself since i can't take a picture from my source.

(please remember (as with all 'tives) that me, my species, my source, and my memories are all as real as this world. respecting that hopefully shouldn't be hard.)

Q&A

Q: do you like being a parative?

A: yep! i think it's really cool and mystical! fancy uniqueness :)

Q: do you miss your original world?

A: i do, actually. it's kind of a weird feeling of homesickness.

Q: whats it like being a parative in a world like this one?

A: the paracosm and area of it i come from is...very different from earth, so sometimes it's a little funky. it's also funky to think too hard about how a lot of people would view my source (aka as "just a daydream")

Q: how far back do your memories stretch?

A: my memories stretch back pretty far, back to my childhood. i remember when i had little white fluffy wings and played with my neighbor's cockatrice (which my parents may not have approved of-) and i remember when i started growing in my Big Kid Feathers (and losing my baby floof) it scared me jfkjka ("mom!! my wings are falling off!!") /lh

Q: when did you consider yourself a parative instead of a para?

A: usually for us, the first time we front is when it's "official". again, it was a while ago for me, but for some of our recent members it's kinda hard to tell until their first front, so we wait until then. sometimes they pop into existence as their first front, and sometimes they've existed for a while but just haven't fronted yet.

feel free to ask more questions, i'd love to answer! just be nice <3