#i actually wrote. this is nothing short of a miracle

[likely-to-be-alive]

Chapter 2 out now!?

I'm very sorry that it took me three weeks to get to posting this, I have so many story ideas and I WILL get to them all someday.

[junkissed]

can't get you out of my head

member — fwb!vernon x f reader genre — smut, like a little tiny bit of angst? with a happy ending word count — 2.4k synopsis — so what if calling your fuck buddy every other day is a little excessive? maybe you're just in love with him. smut warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, lots and lots of kissing, some dacryphilia, multiple orgasms, begging, creampie warnings — vernon is called hansol - i don't usually do that but just go with it; vernon is kind of a sweetheart tbh this ended up being pretty soft notes — june is back !! i've really been struggling to write these past few months so i'm actually super proud that i was able to sit down and write this as fast as i did. i can't promise another fic anytime soon or any kind of consistent uploads, but i hope you enjoy this meager offering! thanks for the support even while i've been gone :) also this is based on a dream i had about vernon the other day and i could not stop thinking about it it was driving me crazy, so everyone say thank you to my brain or the sandman or whoever put that idea in my dreams because this fic is a result of it. if there are mistakes pls ignore i wrote this at 2am

the thing you remember most about hansol is his lips.

the first time you kissed him was like opening a door to a world you'd never known existed. your past hookups had been terrible kissers, or even worse—hadn't even tried to kiss you at all. you were sick of the boring, underwhelming sex with men who couldn't care less if you got off or not. but some god or being in the universe must've been looking out for you, because finding hansol was nothing short of a miracle.

it was so good, you weren't even that embarrassed when you'd desperately texted him a couple of nights later, practically begging him to come over and fuck you again. he was burned into your brain, the feeling of his mouth locked with yours seared so deep in your memory you couldn't erase him if you tried, but it wasn't exactly like you wanted to. 

he hadn't explicitly said you would only be a one night stand, but you usually didn't hang around the same guy for too long, and he didn't really seem like the commitment type anyway. but when you find something this good, you don't let it go, and somehow you both knew that whatever this was, it was too good to pass up on.

so it wasn't really a surprise when you found yourself on his couch, straddling his lap in the late hours of the night for the third time this week. 

like you remembered, his lips were warm and soft, his cheek brushing against yours as you melted into him. you could kiss him for hours and not notice the time passing at all, so focused on the rhythm of his mouth working you up more than anything you'd done with any man you'd slept with before.

the heat of his hands resting on your hips sends shivers up and down your spine, unconsciously arching towards him as his tongue pushes into your mouth.

one gentle hand travels carefully up beneath your shirt, tracing the skin of your stomach before stopping at your breast, your heartbeat racing beneath his palm.

your breath is hot on his cheek as you readjust your position, slipping your knees onto either side of his hips and sinking down to straddle his lap. your clothed cunt throbs as he presses his bulge against the inside of your thigh, and you don't hold back the open-mouthed moan that escapes you as his other hand quickly reaches up to angle your jaw and guide your lips back to his.

you push your hips down a little harder on him and his nails dig into your breast. his grip tightens a little as his hips cant up against you, desperate for more pressure against his strained cock.

your eyelids flutter as his other hand tilts your chin upwards, finally breaking away from your mouth only to reattach his lips at the base of your jaw. his tongue laves over your skin before he starts to suck, and you shiver when he pulls back and cold air hits the wet patch of spit on your neck.

you have to focus hard not to drool when you open your eyes and catch a glimpse of his face, lust-glazed eyes staring up at you through his long, thick lashes, his intense gaze fixed on you.

if you ever get past this weird in-between stage of talking but not talking, maybe you'll tell him how jealous you are of his beautiful, natural eyelashes. if you ever actually get to have a conversation with him outside of calling to hook up, maybe you'll tell him how nice his lips are. you'll tell him how soft his hands are and how he's by far the best person you've ever slept with, leaps and bounds better than all the rest, and—

before you fully realize what's happening, you feel your shirt being pulled over your head and hansol's lips have made their way down to your chest. without a sound his hands roam your body, fingers drawing invisible lines over your bare skin and leaving trails of goosebumps with every touch.

he doesn't talk much during sex, or maybe you just don't know each other well enough yet for him to have much to say. aside from the way he occasionally murmurs about how perfect you are — an oddly intimate thing to say to someone who's just a friend with benefits, but coming from him it sounds so casual — the only words you ever get out of him are curses and whimpered pleas.

the only words he ever gets out of you are shamelessly begging him, please kiss me again, please, hansol; and you're always too far gone to care about how whiny you sound, because you need his lips on you so fucking bad you think you might just die without them. but he always obliges, quickening the speed of his thrusts and wrapping his arms around you tighter so he can kiss you deeper, until your lips are numb and you can still feel the weight of him holding you even hours after he's gone.

so maybe you do have a teeny tiny crush on hansol. anyone in their right mind would, and when he's finished with you tonight you're sure you won't have much mind left to even think about it. certainly this is a problem for another day, a day when you'll inevitably call him again so he can make you lose your mind all over again and you won't have to think about how much you like him, and you'll continue like that for who knows how long. 

maybe he'll get bored of you, or find someone else, or move to another city too far for you to justify travelling for a relationship that isn't even a relationship…

… but then he lets out a little groan and you fall back into reality, the reality where you've been making out with him for the past half hour and he quietly but confidently lets you know if he doesn't get his dick out soon he's definitely going to cum in his pants and not only will it make him look like a loser but he also won't get to fuck you, which is the whole reason you asked him to meet up tonight, right?

well, yeah, you guess, but a part of you knows there's more to it than that. but that's not really a conversation for right now.

you lean down to press another chaste kiss against those lips that you can't stop thinking about, and your fingers pull his t-shirt over his head before finding their way down to the button at the top of his jeans.

you've had his cock inside you more times than you think you deserve, but still your stomach bubbles with excitement as he lifts his hips and shimmies out of his pants, the outline against his briefs more than enough to make your mouth water before he slips those off, too.

for tonight, you're the recipient of his undivided attention. you alone get to have him and his perfect cock all to yourself; maybe not forever, but for right now, and that's all you really need.

he presses his hand against his bulge, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure as you stand up from his lap to kick off your pants and underwear.

you must have been taking too long for his liking, though, because as soon as you're fully nude his hands tug impatiently at your waist and pull you back down onto him. 

he lets out a heavy sigh, the head of his cock pressed deliciously against your clit as you start to rock your hips back and forth.

but before long his hands bring you to a stop and he lets out his usual string of pleas to let him fuck you, and now it's your turn to sigh in relief as he pushes into you, the stretch so natural like he was the only one who was made to sit you on his lap.

he doesn't move right away. he never moves right away, whether to give you a chance to adjust or maybe because he himself can't handle the feeling. either way, you always struggle to take in a shaky breath as your walls flutter around him, perfectly thick and long that you could probably cum untouched like this if you sat there for long enough.

but as badly as you want to never move and let him cockwarm you for hours, he always eventually moves. 

he starts out slow, just a few inches at a time, a gentle in and out that's almost romantic until you feel like you can breathe normally again— right before he knocks the breath out of you, increasing his pace until the room is filled with the loud sounds of skin against skin.

he always fucks you like it's been months since he's came, even though you know for a fact it was last thursday and all over your stomach. all you can do now is hang onto his broad shoulders for dear life, nails scratching helplessly at his muscles as he carries you up and over the edge, pushing you into the first of many orgasms tonight.

sometimes he'll make a comment about how wet you get when he fucks you like this, rough and fast as he pounds into you like there's no tomorrow. and that's when you'll agree, yes you love it so much, yes he's so good, yes you need more and please, please keep going.

if it were anyone else they'd probably smirk at that, satisfied with the momentary boost to their ego. but that's what you love about hansol, is that he's not anyone else: he'll take those words and use them to somehow fuck you even rougher and even faster, so rough and so fast that sometimes tears will start to roll down your cheeks, and that's usually about when you start begging him to kiss you.

you can't help it. the way he bounces you so effortlessly on his cock, his lips parted and beads of sweat trickling down his neck, you need him bad. you want to be closer to him, closer than you know is physically possible but damn if you won't try anyway.

throwing your hands around his neck and falling against his chest, tears still streaming from your eyes as you plead with him, repeating his name over and over and over like you've lost your mind and he's the only thing left. in all honesty, maybe he is.

he quietly shushes you and tilts his chin up to capture your lips in the kiss you so badly crave, and it's everything you need and more and somehow still not enough but you can't think straight anymore when his cock is hitting you just right and his mouth is also just right and each vein, each curve, each ridge, drags perfectly along your walls and he's splitting you open and goddamn you are ruined for anybody else.

you feel like you're skirting in and out of consciousness when you cum again, squeezing around his cock so tight that even his powerful thrusts can't continue at their current pace.

it isn't long before he lets go too, holding you flush against his body as he fills you up, painting your insides white with a breathy moan, and in a weird way it makes you feel kind of proud.

you both sit there for a moment, panting as you start to come down.

without even standing up you already know your legs are jell-o, but you don't really have time to think about that as hansol lifts you off his lap and sets you carefully on the couch, leaving you with another kiss before he stands up and disappears down the hall, returning seconds later with a towel that looks suspiciously new.

you'd asked him about his bathroom towels last time you'd been over at his place. a mismatched collection of white and brown and aquamarine that he'd taken with him when he'd moved out of his parent's house, he said, he'd never really had a reason to buy a set of his own. 

the grey cloth in his hand now that he uses to gently wipe between your legs is one you don't remember seeing.

he finishes and you want him to kiss you again, but you're too shy to ask now so he leaves you again with just a kind smile this time.

you've put most of your wrinkled clothes back on by the time he comes back. he offers to drive you home every time afterwards, but you always insisted you were fine, already feeling like you'd overstayed your welcome.

this time he doesn't offer, though, just quietly sits down next to you to pull on his own clothes until you're both fully dressed.

he speaks before the awkward silence has time to set in.

"have you been seeing anybody else?" he asks, and it's probably the longest sentence he's spoken to you outside of when he's fucking you.

it takes you a couple seconds to say no. god, you sound like a loser, but you couldn't lie to him. since the very first time with hansol the thought of seeing anyone besides him hadn't even crossed your mind. just like you thought; ruined.

it takes him a couple seconds to reply, too. 

"good," he says, and you could almost swear his cheeks are pinker than usual as he admits that he hasn't been with anyone, either. "could we keep it that way?"

your breath catches a little. "yeah?"

"yeah," he answers. "whatever… this is, i like it. and i like you."

and just like that, things make sense. 

"maybe, would you, y'know, wanna stay this time?" he asks, and you can't hide the grin on your face as you lean over and kiss him again, your answer evident in the way your hand falls against his warm chest and your fingers weave gently through his hair.

everything is so simple with hansol.

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

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[eclectickss]

In Your Dreams

Professor!Natasha x Fem!Reader

Summary: Natasha finds your ogling eyes amusing... she decides to do something about it. 

Warnings: Dom!Natasha, (university) classroom antics, Smut (oral, fingering, pet names, submissive!Reader, slight orgasam denial)

Note: CAWS Natasha make brain go silly :) WC: 2500 

You look up from your paper to see Natasha turned away from you scribbling on the white board at the front of the class. You tried to take notes, but were a little too focused on her defined arms as she wrote down the final words.

Your eyes only paid attention the way her bouncy, vibrant red hair flowed when she turned back around, and the moment she began addressing the class, you could only gaze at her lips as they created words incomprehensible to you.

Natasha had long ago figured out that you had a little thing for her, finding it rather flattering and even more so amusing. She was used to some extent of attention from her students, but nothing like your ability to zone out for the entirety of a class period. It was actually a miracle you were doing alright with her assignments.

Natasha had eventually found a special joy in harmlessly teasing you; she would make eye contact with you during more intimate parts of her lectures and observe your reactions as she tested out different methods of sitting down or walking while talking. She had quickly figured out that you get the most foggy-eyed when she leans back against her desk at the front of the room. Another favorite way to mess with you was giving other students more attention... she would lean on their desks or look over their shoulders at their work, making you red.

Today was no different when she noticed that you had already zoned out. She smiled to herself as she continued to address the class, quickly trying to come up with a new way to get a reaction out of you.

"Y/N, could I get you to hold this for me? I think I need an extra hand for a moment." Natasha addressed the class.

Your eyes shot wide as a soft giggle rippled through the room, understanding why when you look up to see Natasha struggling with a large, unfamiliar map.

"Oh! - Uh- yea- yes, ma'am." You hurried to scramble around your desk, which Natasha found wildly entertaining. She watched as you nervously tried to make yourself more presentable on the short trip up to the front, holding back a smirk. You were adorable... and extremely tempting.

"Come here, honey, and just hold this for me, will you?"

You grabbed the map from the back as quickly as you could get to it, practically melting when you accidentally touched Natasha's hand. She noticed immediately, walking around to the front of the map.

"Perfect!" She projected. "So now, you all can see how these countries might-" She paused and you were worried that she found your stare overbearing. "Y/N do you think you could raise the map for me more?" She daintily requested and you complied.

"Sure!" You tried to sound enthusiastic but a lump was caught in your throat. Despite no longer being able to see her face, Natasha had never been this interactive with you before. Nevertheless, you raised the map up to where you couldn't see the rest of the class, even Natasha.

You were thoroughly relieved when she had finished explaining the components of the map to the class, waiting for her instruction to return to your seat, but instead, she meets you behind the map.

"You did so good, sweet girl." She lowered her voice close to your ear, pulling a soft whimper out of you.

Natasha continued to walk behind you and return to her desk where the rest of the class could see her. "Oh, Y/N, you can return to your seat now."

The class once again giggled, making your face and ears turn bright red as you hurried back to your seat, Natasha paying close attention to your color. All you could think about for the rest of the period were those past two minutes... replaying over and over.

Little did you know though, all Natasha was doing was replaying your soft whimper, slowly creating skimpy scenarios with you in her head. This whole time she was trying to rile you up, she finally realized why she liked doing it so much. It's because it was you... so adorable, and moldable and controlable. She wanted you.

Both of your brains simply went to waste for the last 20 minutes of class.

—- "Y/N, could I see you for a moment?" Natasha had used her normal volume once the period ended, receiving a nod from you. Leaving your items on your desk, you walked up to her, noticing her eyes were following the last person as they exited the room.

"What's up, Prof Romanoff?" You finger gunned her, trying to calm yourself, but you quickly realized how out of pocket that was, cheeks turning a soft shade of pink.

Natasha was obsessed with the nerves in your voice, finding your awkwardness fascinating. She admired the way you reservedly fixed your hair and clothes, fully aware you were fidgeting.

"How is it that you do so well in my class?" She began, watching the panic move across your features.

"Excuse me?"

"It's just - your grades are phenomenal for someone who spends 95% of my lectures focused on my lips and not the words coming out of them." She smirked.

You were speechless.

"Oh, c'mon, you've got nothing to say in that pretty little head of yours? It seems so busy up in there though, when I'm writing on the board or explaining the significance of Lady Macbeth..."

"I- um..."

"I mean I can pick up one marker off the floor and there's no hope in getting you back until the end of the lecture."

You gulped and Natasha soaked it in, finding you ready for her to continue advances.

"Come closer." She commanded, catching you off guard.

"Huh?"

"Come closer." The redhead nearly whispered.

You stepped forward to Natasha who had propped herself up on her desk.

"You see that marker on my desk?"

There was an expo resting right next to the heel of her palm. You nodded.

"Push it on the floor."

You complied without hesitation, in a trance with her orders. The plastic echoed off the hardwood.

"Now pick it up."

You bent over and grabbed the marker.

"Good girl... you're so good at following my orders... so desperate to please." Natasha grinned as your jaw opened slightly. "I need someone like you. A dumb bunny to do anything I say." She reached for your head to stroke your cheek with her thumb, you shocked yet easily relaxing into her soft hands.

"Professor Romanoff- what's happening?" You gulped, noticing her eyes were roaming every inch of your figure. Her hand still held your cheek, her touch becoming more and more consuming.

"Oh what, you haven't put the pieces together, baby?" She slipped her hand to the back of your neck and into your hair. She obsessed over the way your eyes slowly closed at her actions, happy surprised at how responsive you were already being. "Come on now, bunny. You must have already figured out that I want to kiss that pretty pussy, right?"

Your eyes widened in shock at her words, Natasha delighted. You were too easy. Her other hand reached out to you, pulling you flush against her body. The soft breaths escaping your lips were driving Natasha wild. "Would it be ok if I played with you, bunny?"

"Ye- yes." You whined.

"Yes, what?" Her hand immediately tightening around your neck.

"Y- yes ma'am"

"Try again." She growled into your ear.

"Yes Professor?"

Natasha chuckled. "Good girl." She whispered into your ear, nipping your lobe before spinning around and pinning you into her desk. Considering this territory was completely unexpected, you froze when your noses were practically touching. Natasha could see the nerves written all across your face, but she knew you were compliant from your heavy breathing and glazed eyes.

As if your heart wasn't already racing, it's pace somehow picked up as Natasha leaned in to close the distance, keeping her eyes locked on yours as she followed through with the first touch of lips.

She watched in amusement as you struggled to keep eye contact when your lips met, the kiss being full and soft. You broke your gaze when her tongue entered your mouth though, shutting your eyes tight as she moved in ways you didn't know were possible. Natasha gave a moan at your reaction, following suit and shutting her eyes to deepen the moment.

The redhead played with your hair and neckline as the two of you continued to make out, slowly making advances as she ran her hands lower and lower over your body. You whined as she pulled your ass into her waist.

"Oh, pretty girl, you're too good for me." She spoke against your lips before planting one last kiss on your lips and moving on to other expanses of your skin. "How many times have you pictured something like this happening?" She asked before licking a line down your exposed collar bone.

Everything about her was driving you mad, making a response difficult.

"I - I- don't-"

She forcefully grabbed your clothed pussy, eliciting a groan from your throat.

"How many, darling?" Natasha growled under your ear.

"Too many for me to count." You nearly whispered. "You are all I can think about."

Natasha's mind went numb at your confession, allowing herself to wonder what you looked like when you fuck your self with your fingers at the thought of her. She needed to taste you now.

"Oh my." She replied, moving down on her knees and kissing right below your belly button. "And have you ever gotten off to the thought of me?"

"Mhmm" You whimpered, her mouth making you feel feral. You placed your hands on Natasha's head and she dug her fingers into your sides.

"No. Hands off." She growled. 

Your hands flew back to the sides of the desk, the grip being not as rewarding and the embarrassment rushing through your body. 

"Good girl. Then how do you picture this going? Tell me." Natasha began to move her kisses lower and lower, her mouth now working on top of your jeans.

"I -," This was hard for you. "You would touch me - a-and let me cum," you barely managed to breathe out.

"No." She spoke. "More details."

You groaned as her hands showed no mercy on top of your jeans.

"You would pull my jeans down and-"

A gasp escaped your lips as you felt your pants loosen and be pulled off of your waste. Her kisses and touches stopped though, leaving all of your nerves on high alert, and more importantly, leaving you missing her desperately.

"Go on." Natasha ordered.

"A- and you would feel how wet I am... f-for you."

Her slender fingers made contact with your clothed pussy, the older woman silently gasping at your pool. Natasha stared at you in awe as she started to feel around the damp spot you had created. You quickly figured out though that she wasn't going to do anything else unless you continued talking.

"Um- you would then-" You yelped as she pressed on your clit.

"Yes?" The red head found you entertaining... wanting to see all of your reactions and quirks. 

"Fuck- y-you would pull my ruined panties dow-"

"Oh, darling. You're moving a little fast there. Lemme show you what I want before that." She husked, moving to lick a strong swipe over the thin fabric in front of her face. She basked in obsession as you struggled to find something to do with your hands, not allowed to put them on Natasha's head.

She moved to start leaving marks all down your thighs, making sure her hands were in a constant state of motion, feeling out your ass and legs. You whined as she kept moving closer and further away from you heat. Your smell had started to overwhelm her senses as it became harder and harder to stay away from your core. 

Her fingers started to drag the elastic down your marked up thighs, making sure to take her time as she finally revealed your dripping center. 

"Now your panties are ruined, darling." She lowered, licking a line up your leg to your hip, inches away from your needs. 

"Professor - please-" You whined, but the older woman smacked the outside of your leg, remembering what you were supposed to be doing. "Now you would gently taste my- fuck."

Natasha had already started moving her tongue on your center, moaning at the tang and wetness. She pulled away and you watched as a strand of saliva snapped in half.

"You would then shove a finger inside of me a- and" A digit was inserted. "And you would start pumping into me as you tell me how good I taste." You could barely keep yourself composed.

"Nice try, Bunny." Natasha smirked, yet choosing to start moving her finger. You were so much fun.

You allowed yourself a moment to get used to her finger, but you quickly needed more. 

"Soon, you would insert another finger, maybe two. I wouldn't know if I could take it. I might-"

Two more fingers were shoved inside of you as a devilish smile spread across the other woman's face. She laughed as you took a moment to adjust to her. 

"Oh my god, I can definitely take it... oh you feel so good." You let your head fall back as your hole was screaming, her long fingers almost too much. "You would then add your mouth on my clit, Professor." More coherency was entering your statements as you got used to her digits. "You would suck and work me up so well..."

A long, soft moan left your lips as she made contact with the rest of you. "You're doing so well for me bunny. I love hearing how you want me to ruin you." Her pumps and licks were now torturous. The pace quickened every few seconds, eventually tightening you up to the edge. 

"Then you would make me as- ask to cum when i - I felt ready..." You heaved. "And I would say- 'Can I please cum, Professor Romanoff?'" 

The readhead moaned into you. "Almost, darling."

"Fuck-" You tried to figure out how to control your breathing as the sounds coming out of your mouth turned into soft cries. The way her fingers felt inside of you was wild; you had never felt so filled before. Her tongue was working quickly against your sensitivity, and it was taking everything in you to hold back.

"Ok, bunny, you can cum now." 

You finally allowed your body to take over, her final touches sending you into overdrive, Natasha watching the show from below. Her fingers helped to untangle the knots in your stomach, removing them when she sensed it was becoming too much. Before you knew it, Natasha had stood up and brought her fingers to your mouth. 

"Clean up, darling."

You nodded and wrapped your lips around her digits, giving a soft sound at your taste. 

"Good, good girl." She said, patting your cheek. "If you keep being a dumb bunny like this, we will have to do this again." She smirked, acknowledging your struggles to pull yourself together. Natasha simply sauntered back to sit at her desk, already thinking about all of the possibilities with you in her hands to mold. 

╚══《✧》══╝

[virgo-dream]

Flowing

based on this lovely post and @softest-punk’s ficlet on the reblogs. it scratched my brain so good I actually wrote something!!! this miracle took at least 76 lazari.

dreamling, t4t, fluff, all that good stuff. not beta’ed we die like Hob doesn’t yadda yadda yadda, idk how many words it’s 4:30am and I’m eepy and hungy wow

Dream’s fingers run over the keyboard on his laptop in a staccato rhythm. He feels his fingers clicking against each individual key clumsily, almost as if for a moment, he’d forgotten how words should be strung together. He hits the backspace, once, twice, holds it like he means to suffocate the words on the screen. Like they scare him, like his chest is being torn open by a fictional claw.

It’s not flowing, he tells himself. It hasn’t been flowing for a while now.

Still, he pushes through, typing away, forcing the words out, until a hand much warmer and steadier than his own reaches out, stopping Dream in his tracks.

“Dove, I can hear the cogs turning in your head. What’s the matter? You’ve been jumpy all day.”

Dream’s eyes stay focused on the screen, and time starts to dilate in his mind. He’s not sure why, but his chest tightens. He’s not sure if he’s ready to bring a name to that feeling either. Still, it’s impossible not to look at Hob, whose expression is full of warmth and kindness, and unlike Dream, seems to have his chest open and ready to bring his wreck of a lover into an embrace.

Hob wears the scars on his chest like a badge of honour. A body of his own making, a body Dream could sense from afar even before Hob had started growing into it.

“I… I’m not sure.” The words to describe his anxiety are there, Dream knows that. He’s trying to reach out for them, but he falls short.

Hob’s lips curl into a soft smile as he carefully reaches for the computer resting on Dream’s lap. “That’s alright. But maybe you’ve done enough writing for today. No point in frying your brain like that.”

Dream feels his heart climb up to his throat, hands gripping the sides of the laptop as if his life depended on it. “—I’ll stop. You’re right. There’s nothing more I can put on the page for now.” He shuts the laptop down, pulling it away from Hob and placing it on the nightstand.

He’s got nothing to hide from Hob. He’s got plenty to hide from himself. Dream can tell from how Hob’s eyebrows raise that whatever it is, he’s going to have to face it sooner rather than later.

“…ooookay. I wasn’t going to look, you know? I only want to read what you want to show me.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Silence fills the room as Dream and Hob look at each other. He can tell Hob is not going to push, but oh, how Dream wishes he would. Maybe a push is just what he needs. Maybe Hob is the only person who can do it for him.

Dream looks at Hob’s chest once more. Open, welcoming, light. Free. At his eyes, loving, wanting, sincere. At his arms, reaching out for Dream, wanting to bring him closer, to protect him, to give him strength. “Duck, is there anything you—“

“—could you use they for me sometimes? I don’t think I’m… I don’t think I’m a he. All the time. Maybe.”

Silence now sucks the air out of Dream’s lungs. They stare at each other as his— their words move through both Dream and Hob’s brains. For a split second, Dream feels a surge of fear and shame, the horrifying possibility that everything went wrong and somehow a line was crossed. A line he cannot possibly ignore now.

Before he can dive into any more assumptions, Hob’s arms are around him in a firm embrace, almost crushing. A hand goes to rest on the back of their hair, fingers tangling with the soft, dark strands. Hob holds Dream like they are the most precious thing to ever exist. “—oh duck, I’ll call you whatever makes you feel good. Thank you for trusting me, I know how difficult this is. Thank you, Dream. I love you.”

Hob’s words feel like a soothing balm to Dream’s crumpled chest, that now opens up as they take a breath, as if the weight of the world had finally been lifted off their shoulders. Hob’s embrace feels like permission, like comprehension, like support. And love, so much love, so much that Dream doesn’t know what to do with it other than let their hands go to Hob’s softly stubbled cheeks and direct his face to meet Dream’s in the middle, lips crashing clumsily at first.

When Dream opens their eyes again, they are rimmed with tears. It’s okay, though. Hob would not denounce him for crying. Hob accepts it, celebrates their moments of emotional release.

“I know. It’s scary. You did something very big right now. I’m proud of you.” Hob presses a gentle kiss to Dream’s forehead, and doesn’t let of them. Dream is not bothered by it, in fact settling into Hob’s arms, like their bodies were always meant to rest against one another.

Dream wonders if Hob knew all along, like they somehow sensed Hob’s truth years before it came to light.

The next morning, their words are flowing again.

[pehmokoira]

I think we could all use a morale booster after 2 weeks in the gravy basket, so I decided to write a few reasons why I believe Our Flag Means Death can still be saved!

Please note that I know literally nothing about how the industry actually works, I'm just clowning and these are opinions based on articles I've read etc. 🤡

Arrested Development was saved by Netflix after Fox cancelled it because of low ratings and viewership. Now, we can't know the numbers for OFMD for certain, but the ratings and reviews have been preeetty good, and season 2 even has a higher Tomatometer score than season 1. (96% vs. 93%) So in that sense, the chances are good. Everything was pointing towards renewal until January 9th!

Which gets me to my next point. If the cancellation really was one person's decision (DZ better watch his fucking step), then that means the show was as good as renewed and it HAD the numbers and the viewership and everything it needed to continue.

Each cancellation case is unique. It's kind of pointless to compare OFMD with any other cancelled show, because the chances of any show getting picked up after cancellation depend on so many things. Production costs, show quality, the potential of the show, viewership, probably also connections/relationships in the industry, etc. But it all boils down to money in the end.

Max is covering up the real reason for the cancellation by lying, which means they've completely fucked up by cancelling this show. Max is the one that looks bad right now, not OFMD. This is bad PR for Max.

David Jenkins has not told us to stop with our renewal efforts, which means there's hope. He knows more than we do. In Jenkins I trust. I won't give up until he tells us it's over.

It's only been 2 weeks and 1 day. It would've been something of a miracle if the show had been picked up in that short a time. Lucifer was saved by Netflix a month after the cancellation.

And lastly, the pros for OFMD:

The show hasn't been on a widely available international streaming service so far. Big potential for new audiences on a different platform.

The marketing for the show has been abysmal, but it's become a flagship series for Max despite that.

The fanbase is loud and passionate, and we've shouted about wanting to buy merch on X. We won't shut up about the show and that's a beautiful and important thing.

Max's lies about the cancellation are so transparent almost anyone can see through them. The people in the industry have probably noticed Max's pattern of cancelling shows about marginalized groups.

The representation in the show is something you don't find in any other show, and while that could be its downfall, it's also the greatest strength of the show. Bigger streaming services aren't as scared of queers as Max is.

The story that the show tells is quite unique.

These are just a few things that came to mind right now. Feel free to reblog and list more reasons if you can think of any!

Edit: I wrote another post about this too! That one's about ✨the numbers✨!

[ragsy]

"Seven Flames" | ~500 words

Something quick and rough I wrote to recontextualize an old dnd character into a new setting. Also this is somehow the first thing I've ever actually written for Arji in the seven years I've been playing him?

Read under the cut 👇

1. The Hearth

It warmed the house, his back, his mother's face, as she balanced him on her knee. Bright yellow eyes watched her in rapt attention, drinking in her tales of the sea: stories of krakens, pirates, typhoons, and sirens, all come to life under the dancing amber glow of the fireplace.

His father would call the whole thing a waste of time. Stories like those turn hard workers into wistful layabouts. But, until spring, while the sheet ice locked his mother's adventuring soul inland, Arjibi could taste a world beyond his family's little farm.

2. The Spark

At the age when his siblings learned to bellow flames from their jaws, his fire arrived with delicate fingers and sparkling eyes. The magic of dragons is not to be trifled with, but, in the body of a child born to barren root cellars and empty coffers, the power to light a candle with the flourish of a hand is nothing short of a miracle.

3. The Campfire

That twinkling beacon calling to him through the woods— how could he resist? There were eight other siblings in the house, no one would notice if just one slipped out at night.

The bardic caravan and its drivers, their plucky strings and merry bells, offered him a seat by their fire and a belly full of stew.

"How can I pay you back?" he asked.

"With a song," they replied.

"But I don't know any," said Arjibi.

"Then let us teach you," said the bards.

4. The Housefire

It wasn't his fault. Accidents happen.

There was a wealthy family in the next town over, looking for dinner entertainment. The sack of gold promised to him at the end of the night would help rebuild the farm.

He couldn't afford to have any more mistakes in his routine. He would do everything right this time.

But, again.

Accidents happen.

5. The Torch

Great things begin in humble places. Every grand adventurer gets their start crawling around abandoned mines, slaying giant rats with a handful of complete strangers. The torch clutched in his fist cast a spluttering light over the prophecy carved in the walls.

His companions would, eventually escape their fate.

Only gods would know if he could be so lucky.

6. The Oil Lamp

Late nights in Grengear's study were often underscored by the scribbling of his quill and the patter of autumn rain on the windows. Stacks of schematics, his latest inventions, breathlessly explained to a fascinated audience of one. A secret project, obscured under a tarp, to be revealed when Arjibi returned from his upcoming mission.

He wished he'd peeked. Just once.

7. The Candle

Even under the harsh electric lighting and the stench of cleaning chemicals, the little pillar of wax and wick still glowed like he remembered.

Even under new gods, there would always be fire.

[lullinglily]

Hello! I saw your blog and I thought it was very cute ^^ If you don't mind, could you do a fem!reader x Leda where the reader was a follower of Santa Trina but Miquella spelled her and now she is part of Leda's group? :3 sorry if I wrote something wrong, I'm not very good with English :(

pairing: needle knight leda x st trina follower! fem! reader

notes: wow new and actually organized post format!! this was a pleasure to write and i'm so excited to open reqs up again soon. i'm moving through them slowly but surely i promise. thank you for all your support!

Your initial interactions with the knight herself are the product of your differing allegiances. While you are now fully devoted to Kindly Miquella, Leda is well aware that the part of you that worshiped his lesser half could never be fully shed. Still though, she tries to probe you for any signs of disobedience.

She’s mildly perplexed when she finds that you have no such thoughts, but not unhappy. She realized through her time with you that you are unlike the rest of her companions. You make her sick. 

A single smile from you is enough to make her stomach churn. 

She hates the feeling of caring for anyone other than her Lord. The agony you cause her simply by being your wonderful self is immeasurable.

She’ll try to push you away by acting far colder than usual or even by being rather rude, but you’re too lax to take any offense. A follower of love incarnate knows best the way of the human heart, and you can tell Leda’s is troubled. Instead of allowing her to push you away any further, you employ a variety of methods learned from your time as a disciple of St. Trina in order to quell her anxieties. The only problem is that you can’t tell what it is she’s so anxious about.

She refuses to tell you of course, meaning you just have to subject her to a ton of meditative practices and the like to find what works best. 

All this time around you —  all of this incessant fussing over her —  is driving her mad. She’s a flushed, lovestruck, repulsed mess during this time. She despised how much she enjoys your attention, how close you get when you feed her a lulling stew or register her a spoonful of sleep-inducing medicine; how soft your voice is and the way your cloying touch sends her straight to sleep. 

When she finally relents and displays her true feelings towards you it is done by accident; naught but a slip of the tongue. She’s getting over a particularly bad bout of paranoia, her fingers hooked into the skin of your arms and her head resting against your chest. She seems to you like a wild animal, cornered but not yet defeated. You have no clue that all she’s thinking of in this moment is you.

She has to kill you; needs to. You will take her over in body and mind if she does not sever your head from your shoulders this very instant. She has to destroy you before you destroy her. She finds it so very funny that you are completely unaware of her desire to see you dead, and instead inch even closer as you sense some lingering panic plaguing her. You should be the one panicking. You should be terrified. And yet, it is you who embraces her further. 

You envelope her in your arms and Leda realizes all at once that you are nothing short of a miracle. A miracle rescued from the grim fellowship of Trina and passed into Kindly Miquella’s new age all so that Leda may love you and be shown love in return. Miquella had finally repaid her for all of her deeds, she was sure of it. 

She mumbles what she knows to be true; that she cares for you and wants you to be hers. She feels pathetic as the words tumble out without any way of stopping them. Your smile is blinding as you place a kiss on the corner of her mouth, and it only grows more radiant when you feel her hand come up and cradle the back of your head. With this show of devotion you find in Leda a sword and shield, a valiant knight straight from a fairytale. And in you, Leda finds a new reason to fight. The world is steeped in misery; in hardship. It is ill-suited to one as tender as you. If she could bring forth her Lord’s Age of Compassion, if she could help make the world a gentler place, then you would be rescued from any despair that dared to pain you.

Leda, even while under Miquella’s charm, is still a very cautious individual. This is doubly true once you and her become romantically involved. 

You’ll often be faced with the task of calming her down when such paranoia consumes her. You hold her head  and softly reassure her that no harm shall come to either of you, nor Miquella the Kind. While it is difficult for her to accept, she has no choice but to believe that all is well — for now, anyways.

Your status as Leda’s lover gradually turns to “Leda’s therapy dog.” You can tell when her thoughts are beginning to spiral towards suspicion and act accordingly, reaching for her hand and gently squeezing it before moving closer. You move aside her pale bangs to press a lulling kiss upon her forehead and coo sweet words to her until she is calm. It’s something she should be used to by now, but it never fails to shock the bloodlust out of Leda’s system. 

She’s fiercely protective of you, thinking you to be a gift from Miquella himself. Such compassion is sure to be divested from him alone, and molded into the shape of the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen. And so, while she hates to have you fight, she does enjoy the sight of the both of you raising your needles in common cause. She’d only wish Miquella’s age would come sooner so that you’d never have to lift a weapon again. 

Leda is especially jealous of the bond you and Thiollier share. All she has ever known is Kind Miquella, and so she is often unable to insert herself into the conversations the both of you frequently have concerning her. While she doesn’t mind you befriending your allies, if a conversation goes on for any longer than she likes she’ll send Thiollier off to go do some minor task. She will not have that wet cat of a man take you from her. 

Speaking of allies, they typically turn to you when Leda is frustrated with them. They beg you to calm her down, to ask her to make peace with them. You’ll oblige and gently present the problem to Leda before asking her to apologize. She’ll argue with you at first, but it’s impossible to do so. You’re alluring, beautiful, and oh so precious to her; she folds. She��ll grimace, the tips of her ears flushed red with embarrassment as she apologizes to whoever it was she fought with earlier. 

Tying braids comes naturally to Trina’s followers, so you typically do Leda’s for her. She’ll say she doesn’t need your help, that she’s no child, but allows you to do it anyway. She craves your touch, it’s about as addicting as Trina’s own ambrosia. 

While she dislikes the aid of Miquella’s discarded self, she cannot deny that it does help her rest easy. She’s adorable crossing her arms and pretending like it doesn’t affect her, like she was totally just awake and listening to you instead of nodding off. 

You like to pick flowers for your beloved. You’ll usually give them to her as gifts either directly or pressed inside of notes. You also from time to time have a habit of secretly working flowers into Leda’s uniform, something she won’t notice until someone else points it out. Your allies can tell when the two of you have been together by the petals scattered about Leda’s shoulders and cape. 

The both of you have a cute dynamic. Leda who is ever paranoid, serious and bloodthirsty; and then you. You’re much more relaxed, extremely kindhearted, and to Leda’s frustration, quite aloof. She is your protector, your knight in shining armor, and you are her doting maiden eternal. 

[loregoddess]

while writing the sleeping HCs I wrote something about Agnea needing a lot of time to brush out her hair and my brain was like "yeah sure, silly hair care headcanons be upon ye" so here we are (edition: both games!):

Ophilia: Takes very good care of her hair, but doesn't do anything fancy or special, Ophilia's hair just looks really nice if she's consistent with brushing and combing it. Tangles a bit, but not terribly (Lianna's hair tangles something fierce, and Ophilia got really good at brushing it out without causing any pain). Let's one of the nuns or Lianna cut her hair, and is generally fine with one of the other travelers cutting it (Primrose almost always does because she's fascinated by how soft and silky Ophilia's hair is with so little effort).

Cyrus: Despite his best efforts, his hair tangles fairly easily. Brushes and combs it regularly, but doesn't actually worry that much about how it looks (although it always ends up looking very nice, which Cyrus is of course, not aware of). Ties it back to keep it out of his face while reading, but honestly has more loose strands than not. Absolutely attempts to cut his own hair to save himself time, which is why the length is so uneven, and yet it still somehow manages to look nice when he's finished.

Tressa: Has a sort of undercut style where she can tie the longer top layer up underneath her hat and keep it all out of her face at once, but still wanted the option to wear her hair long and loose if she wanted (listen, the official artworks are inconsistent with Tressa's hair, this is the best explanation I have). More interested in selling hair tonics than using them herself, and actually has a fairly simple hair care routine. Hair doesn't tangle easily and is thin enough Tressa can get by with just a comb most days. Prefers to let her parents cut her hair, and will only let Primrose or Ophilia cut it while traveling (doesn't mind letting barbers cut her hair, but only after she's inspected their past work thoroughly).

Olberic: Wavy hair, but keeps it slicked back with a tonic to keep it out of his face (used to keep it shorter when he was younger, and then decided to grow it out on a whim when he realized it wouldn't be too hard to keep out of his face). Hair hardly tangles, but Olberic's pretty regular about combing it so it doesn't have much of a chance to tangle in the first place (all his personal grooming habits come from his knight training). Usually just gets it cut at a barber's, will let the other travelers cut it though.

Primrose: Has the most complex hair care routine, although her hair isn't naturally inclined to tangles. Would prefer to cut her own hair, but allows others to cut it depending on the situation (enjoys taking care of other people's hair though). Brushes and combs it before going to sleep and after waking up despite the fact that her hair rarely tangles while she's asleep. Hair starts to curl in humid environments, and is incredibly thick and strong.

Alfyn: Hair hardly tangles but this isn't obvious because it looks like a mess at any given time (his hair is just wavy/curly). Uses a tonic that sort of acts like a gel so he can get most of the shorter strands up and out of his face. Alfyn's hair is thin enough that it looks smooth and lays flat when he ties it back, but it would look nothing short of a lion's mane if he let it all loose. Aside from the tonic, doesn't really do anything special with his hair. Will ask whoever's around for a trim when he needs one.

Therion: Hair doesn't tangle often which is a miracle considering he doesn't always brush it daily. Not too fussy about his hair, except when he needs to disguise himself, but doesn't neglect it either (in general is very good about his own personal health, he did after all somehow manage to recover from a very steep fall seemingly alone). Therion also cuts his own hair and refuses to let anyone else cut it. Begrudgingly lets some of the other travelers brush it when they ask, but only after traveling together for several months.

H'aanit: Doesn't have a fancy routine but is very careful with brushing, combing, and braiding her hair (it's not practical for hunting, she just likes keeping her hair long). Hair is thick and a bit frizz-prone, and therefore a pain to brush out if it tangles. Linde wants to join when she realizes H'aanit is doing "social cat things (ft: grooming)" and gets brushes when H'aanit finishes with her own hair. Cuts her own hair, but only because Z'aanta failed Once at cutting her hair nicely when she was younger (also cuts Z'aanta's hair).

Ochette: Hair doesn't tangle as easily as one might expect, but Ochette also takes a fair amount of time to brush and comb it as part of her personal grooming routine, which she takes very seriously. Beastling brushes are designed in a way that she can brush both her tail and hair, and she probably brushes Akala as well (Mahina preens her own feathers, but will do so at the same time that Ochette is taking care of her hair). Doesn't mind tying her hair back, but only if it's a bit loose. Cuts her own hair, isn't too fussy about how good it looks, but usually it comes out really nicely. Enjoys helping others with their hair a lot too (used to brush Juvah's mane a lot).

Castti: Prefers to keep her hair tied back out of her face, and will also sleep with it tied back. Absolute mess of tangles if she sleeps with it loose or gets caught by the wind, and it takes her forever to brush it out afterwards. Makes her own hair tonic and tries to keep up with her hair for health purposes (although she sometimes forgets to brush it regularly if she's had a rough load of work). Will usually ask someone else to cut her hair, and Eir's Apothecaries used to take turns cutting each other's hair, but will also just try and hack off the split ends herself is no one is around (hair length is a bit uneven when she does this).

Throne: Incredibly fussy about her hair, and very particular about her hair care routine (it helps calm Throne's nerves, and gave her a bit of personal freedom early in her life). Had to learn to cut her own hair because of the looming threat of internal assassination attempts, and isn't keen on letting other people cut it for her as a result. Throne's hair is about average for how much it does or doesn't tangle, although her hair is naturally very silky so it's easy to remove the tangles.

Osvald: He keeps it long because it's wavy and frizzy enough to be an absolute horror of bushy curls if it's cut too short, and finds it easier to tie back when he's researching. Brushes his hair regularly as a habit to keep up with his personal health, but doesn't really care much about how it looks. Osvald's also bad about getting the split ends cut, and only gets his hair trimmed when someone offers to do it for him (Rita used to take care of trimming his hair). Tangles fairly easily and takes some time to brush out (was the worst after his two-day trip passed out in the ice boat). Very picky about how he keeps his facial hair though.

Partitio: Hair would tangle a bit if he grew it any longer, but Partitio's hair is also thick enough that taking care of it while it's longer is more of a hassle than it's worth. Uses a tonic to slick it back, although his hair's wavy-curly enough to need a fair amount of tonic. Takes good care of his hair, since he knows having a professional appearance is just as important in making a sale as the quality of the products being sold, and was taught all his hair care routines from Roque. Usually just relies on the local barber to cut his hair, and has had varying results from other barbers he's encountered on his travels (after a particularly bad haircut, Throne convinced him to trust her with cutting his hair, which actually worked out due to her precision).

Agnea: Wakes up with the worst bedhead and it takes her a good while to brush it out. In general, her hair is very prone to tangling which is why Agnea keeps it braided most of the time. Surprisingly thin hair, but this isn't obvious unless it's braided because Agnea's hair is very wavy and looks like it has a lot of body to it. Agnea takes good care of her hair though, and travels with a few different tonics to keep it healthy. Pala and Agnea cut each other's hair, typically, although Garud used to cut their hair when they were younger.

Temenos: His hair rarely tangles, and he really just needs a comb to keep it in order. One of the clerics was the designated hair-cutter in the church where he and Roi were raised, but Temenos decided to start cutting his own hair in his early teens and has refused to let anyone touch it since (insists this has nothing to do with the fact that one of the other cleric's had their ear snipped on accident). At first his self-cut hair was a mess, but he's become quite proficient. Doesn't really do anything special otherwise though.

Hikari: Very soft and smooth hair, although it means Hikari needs a hair tie coated in a special substance to keep the tie from slipping out when he ties it back. Takes incredibly good care of his hair as a matter of discipline and routine. It doesn't tangle easily, but is easy enough to comb out when it does. For reasons Hikari hasn't figured out, almost everyone he's met wants to comb his hair if he's okay with it, despite him being perfectly capable of the task himself.

[cosmictap]

I wrote!

Logan walker is a sad sad man I love him

CWs: Implied suicidal ideation? nobody makes an attempt, but it’s worth noting his thoughts arent very happy in the beginning

Logan Walker. He would never call himself special by any stretch of the imagination, and everything in his files tended to agree with that notion. He had, in his professional opinion, the best brother in the world, but him? He was quiet, anxious, regularly described as ‘weird’ by his classmates. He didn’t; or rather, tried not to, let that affect him. Getting through highschool frankly was nothing short of a miracle. They all knew it. He lucked out in his last year before joining the US army, with one Cameron Rorke - his third favourite person, fourth if he was including Riley. He and Cam went through it all together, every stupid little fight he had with his brother, every time he convinced himself the world was out to get him, that it’d be better if he was gone from it entirely.

They did everything together, until Logan and Hesh joined the Ghosts, and the clusterfuck that was their dad’s death. Cameron- he tried, he really did, but he’s never been the best at dealing with processing grief like that, he just felt unbearably guilty, it was *his* dad who killed Elias, after all, despite Logan’s insistence he wasn’t to blame. He’d move heaven and earth for Logan, they both knew that already; but he wasn’t sure how to fix this. If it could be fixed. Death was complicated, he knew that much.

***

Months later, Hesh and Logan were sent on a mission, stealth- as is their usual- in and out, get the information and *leave*. Of course it didn’t go that easily. On their way out Hesh was shot, twice, both bullets hitting, and shattering, his knee. It effectively fucked them, their stealth was near impossible, and they were slowed down significantly.

Logan never once considered leaving his brother behind.

They struggled through it, coming to a head in the middle of a bridge, Hesh’s balance shifted, causing him to slip out of Logan’s grip for just long enough for his leg to collapse under him, semi dangling off the edge of the bridge. Logan could feel his heart pounding, his hands beginning to shake uncontrollably, but he couldn’t let it get to him, he had to pull his brother up, he had to.

***

The Ghosts, back at HQ, could only listen in horror, they knew they were too far to help, that much was obvious, but it didn’t stop the sinking feeling everyone felt, the whole situation was so eerily familiar. The image of Elias trying to hold onto Rorke for all he was worth, how he fell, the atmosphere in the air. Powerless.

They listened as Hesh practically begged Logan to let him go, to just let him die. Surprised, and heartbroken, when Logan responded.

*’I’m not *leaving* you! Fuck- This is the first time i’ve actually felt comfortable, i’m *not* letting you die.’*

He’s not sure how he manages it, but he gets himself and his brother back home in one piece, anger and fear written on his face clear as anything could be.

***

He let himself cry once he was safe, right in their rec room, surrounded by family. Someone - he thinks Keegan - got him a cup of tea. It’s perfectly made and just makes him want to cry more. He leans into Cam, using his best friends - partners- jumper to wipe his tears off onto, letting out a small smile as Cam flicks him for that move.

He’d do anything for his team, for his family. He knew that more than anything.

I listened to Call Your Mum by noah kahan while writing!

[pentechnics]

Part 3: Assignment | Series Masterlist

Pairing: boss!Din Djarin x secretary!f reader

Rating: E, 18+ only

Chapter Content: office work environment, power dynamics, dom!Din, sexy phone times, hand kink, praise kink, vaginal fingering, nicknames/pet names, implied orgasm denial Please let me know if I missed anything!

Notes: As always I'm so sorry to make y'all wait, but I hope you feel as though it was worth it! I'm still so excited about this story and can't wait to continue it for us all. Please drop me a line to tell me what you thought -- there is nothing more motivating than hearing from you all! Sending love to you all!

~~~~

“Well, that’s a change of pace. You’ve never taken anyone with you.” 

Din waved off the comment and returned his attention to the window beside Boba’s desk, which took up the entire wall and looked out to the bustling city below.  

“Have you told her yet?” 

“Our check-in is tomorrow. I’ll do it then.” 

Boba hummed and wrote a note. 

“Make sure you book those arrangements soon. The conference is in only a month.” 

Din nodded. 

“So what is it about this one? I’ve never seen you this…” 

He paused to vaguely gesture at Din, making him turn back. 

“... tolerable.” 

Din sighed and shook his head. 

“Oh, come on,” Boba pressed, a grin breaking out on his face. “She must be some kind of miracle worker.” 

Oh, you could work miracles, all right. A memory of you on your knees flashed in Din’s mind: your eyes wide, mouth stuffed to the brim with his cock, curious hands clawing at his thighs. 

Perfection. His fisted hand clenched tighter around the air. 

“She’s good at her job,” he said through gritted teeth. “Has no problem keeping up, gets along with everyone-”

“So that you don’t have to,” Boba cut him off with a chuckle. Din couldn’t help the small grin creeping onto his face. 

“Exactly.” 

“Well, that’s good, then,” Boba turned back to his monitor. “She can help you actually network at this thing and get us some more diverse clients. We don’t want a repeat of what happened last time you went.” 

“Fett, for the millionth time,” Din sat up in his chair. “That guy punched me first.” 

Boba’s thunderous laughter bounced off the office walls. 

~~~~

Dinner consumed and dishes put away, you slipped under the covers of your bed and let out a sigh. 

Your muscles ached with exhaustion as they seeped into the plush comfort beneath them, the inevitable stress of the week finally showing itself. It was as though you were a puddle and the bed was a sponge, fully soaking you into its soft embrace. What you wouldn’t give for a back rub. 

You turned on your laptop and clicked onto some mindless television, setting it down beside you and letting the dialogue fill your brain with its static. You took a deep breath and sunk down against the headboard, attempting to regain some of the energy the day had drained out of you. 

The harsh vibrations of your phone had other plans.

You jumped at the sudden noise, a tingle of surprise emanating from your heart, and reached over to grab it from your nightstand with a grunt. 

An unknown number illuminated your screen. Damn telemarketers. Why in the world would they even be making phone calls at this time of night? You plopped it back onto the nightstand with a bit more force than necessary and tried once more to get comfortable. 

Moments later another vibration sounded, this time from a text. 

You sat up again and looked over at your phone, apprehensive. Telemarketers didn’t typically text, especially when a phone call was ignored. If that wasn’t who called you, who the hell could it have been?

You slowly unlocked your phone and opened the message feed, your eyes bulging out when you saw the singular gray bubble with the short �� yet powerful – text:

Pick up, Cupcake.

The number called again. Your phone buzzed away in your hand while your mind flooded with questions. You’d never given anyone at work your personal number, how did Mr. Djarin get it? And why would he call you so late at night?

With a shaky breath, you pressed ‘accept.’

“... Hello?” 

“Surprise.”

You let out a little laugh as his deep, modulated voice sent a shiver through you. 

“How’d you get my number?”

“Yeah… I may or may not have snuck a peek at your file. Don’t tell HR.” 

That got a more genuine laugh out of you. You propped yourself onto your elbows and readjusted the phone against your ear. 

“I should get to look at your file, then,” you said. “It’s only fair.” 

“Be my guest. Nothing exciting in there, anyway.” 

Something about his tone sounded off. It was slightly strained and gruff, as if he were holding something heavy. “So…” you started, unsure of how to proceed. “What made you want to call me?” 

“Well… I wanted you to know something.” 

“Something that couldn’t wait until morning?” 

“Exactly.”

A shaky exhale made its way to your ears. Your confusion only grew. 

“What are you doing over there? You sound like you’re working out or something.”

“Ah… Let’s go with ‘or something,’” he chuckled. “Care to take another guess?” 

You shook your head. What was going on? What kind of game was he trying to play? 

“Um…” you trailed off, your mind going blank. 

“Let’s just say I can’t stop thinking about that pretty mouth of yours.” 

Your jaw dropped. Your thighs clenched together as more of his breathy sighs caressed your ear. 

He… he was touching himself. To the thought of you. 

Once the initial shock of it dissipated, a more sinister instinct began to boil within you. You smirked into the receiver while more labored breathing reached your ears. 

“Is that so?” you asked, putting extra texture onto your voice. 

“Wish you could see the proof.” 

“Convince me, then. Let me hear it.” 

“Filthy little thing.” he rasped. “Lay down and join me, and I just might.” 

Your eyes rolled back, your body immediately flipping over and sinking down into a lying position. 

“You’re lucky I was already in bed,” you said with a smile, your hand already grazing down your chest. 

He hummed. It was like sweet honey, making you let out a small gasp as your body filled with warmth. 

“You ready, sweetheart? You’re gonna do exactly as I say.” 

“Fuck, yes,” you breathed, slick already beginning to collect between your legs.  

“Good. Grab one of those tits for me.” 

You did as he said, wrapping your hand as far around it as you could and gently kneading the flesh with your fingers. You sighed and let yourself get lost in the feeling, the vague memory of his hand cupping them flashing through your mind.

“They’re so perfect,” he mumbled, “Need more time with them. Keep going, Cupcake.”  

You bit your lip and picked up the pace, humming into the phone. 

“Aw, are you wishing you could touch them?” 

“Watch it, Princess,” he hissed. “You won’t get more with that attitude.” 

Something about the prospect of him denying your pleasure turned you on all the more. A small whimper escaped your lips, making him snicker. 

“Rub that nipple.” 

You moved your finger up and slowly caressed the little nub, already hard and sensitive. You threw your head back and moaned as each stroke of it sent a jolt straight to your core. 

“Just like that,” he groaned. “Bet you’re already soaking for me.”

He was right. You could feel the pooling between your legs, no doubt soiling your panties. 

“Put me on speaker, honey. Want both hands on your tits. Now.”  

You let out a little hum and did as he said, setting the phone down beside your pillow and gripping yourself with both hands. 

“Atta girl,” he cooed. “So good at listening.” 

His praise only served to make you wetter. You teased and flicked at your nipples, relishing in each ripple of pleasure that cascaded through you. 

“Lower now, touch those thighs for me.” 

Your hands snaked down the length of your torso, gently dragging your nails against your skin on their way, until you reached your thighs. 

“Claw at them.” 

You did. Shivers erupted through your nerves, making your back arch.

“Oh my god,” you breathed. 

“Yeah? Feeling good?” 

“So good,” you smiled. “I need more.” 

“Beg for it, then.”

More curses spilled from your lips while your hands continued to massage the skin of your thighs, slowly moving further in and up. 

“Please, sir,” you whined, not a single ounce of shame behind it. “Please give me more.” 

“That’s my girl,” you could hear the grin in his voice. “Go on. Rub that clit for me.” 

The relief and pleasure that threatened to drown you as your fingers finally made contact had you moaning out loud. 

“Fuck, you make such pretty sounds, Cupcake-” he cut himself off with deep noises of his own. “Get louder for me. Rub it faster.” 

As if his voice was the sole conductor of your actions, your body sang at its demand, crying out as your fingers worked themselves ragged. The wave was beginning to build below your belly, releasing a firm heat that wrapped around you like a snake and squeezed until your limbs began to flail. 

“Yes, fuck, just like that. Don’t stop.” 

“Fuck,” you shouted, back arching. “Fuck fuck fuck-” 

“Aw,” his tone was almost condescending. “Is it already too much for you, baby? You missing my hands? Poor thing.” 

His words had you gushing, despite the small bead of annoyance sprouting within you. 

“Now you need to fucking watch it,” you said through your heavy breathing. “I could just hang up on you.”

“Hehe, come on,” he cooed, “Don’t you wanna cum?” 

Your breath hitched. 

“I can tell you’re close, baby. Let me get you there.” 

You let out a grunt of frustration. He was right – even if you did hang up, you already had a taste of what it was like for him to be in control. You had never reached such a high on your own; just the once and you were already addicted to him. 

“Stop rubbing.” 

“What?” 

“Now.” 

Your fingers paused. You heaved breath after breath, your racing heart threatening to burst from your chest. Like you were forced to hold in a sneeze, your body was teetering on the edge. 

“Why?” your voice cracked. “I was so close-” 

“I said this already, sweetheart, you’re not gonna get anywhere with that attitude. Now stick those fingers inside, nice and slow.” 

The combination of your body’s needs with your brain’s annoyance was deadly; you were clawing at the bed with your free hand, your breath coming in heaves as the other followed his command. You were coating the bed with your slick at this point, evident by the cold, damp patch coming into contact with your thigh. 

You sighed. Your fingers were so small compared to his, only able to go so deep and stretch so far. But you weren’t about to tell him that. 

“That’s it,” he rasped, voice growing less stable. “Faster.” 

You increased your speed, moan after moan spilling from your lips. The tension in your belly grew, blooming to life and making your whole body curl in. Sweat began to break out on your forehead.

“Din,” you started, “Please, I can’t-” 

You gasped and stopped in your tracks. You hadn’t meant to use his name. The silence that followed was tortuous; part of you was worried he would be angry, maybe even hang up on you. Would he actually do that, you asked yourself. It was hard to say. 

You were about to break the painful lull with an apology when you heard a feral moan rip from his throat. 

“Say my name again, baby. Say it while you’re rubbing that fucking clit.” 

You whimpered as you returned your attention to your clit, now in need of restimulating. 

Luckily, his encouragement was even more intense than before and had your high returning in no time. You bit down hard on your lip as each of his shaky gasps and harsh commands sent a shiver down your spine. 

“Din,” you breathed. 

“Yes.” 

“Din.” 

“Fuck, just like that-” 

“Din, it’s coming,” you all but yelled.  

“YES, do it, Cupcake, fucking cum for me.” 

His voice was almost animalistic, his growling demand being the final straw that sent you careening into a supernova of an orgasm: loud, explosive, all-encompassing. Your throat felt more hoarse with each shout of pleasure he dragged out of you. 

He wasn’t too far behind, labored grunts turning into deep, symphonic moans that you were sure would be the end of you. They ricocheted through your ears, filtered through the phone which made them somehow sound even sexier.  

You thought back to that day in the office to picture how he might be looking while he came: the scrunched up eyes with his head thrown back, slacked jaw, and bounce of his chest with heavy panting. 

Simply beautiful. You wished you could see him now. 

You squirmed as the last remnants of your orgasm petered out, his breathing calming down with yours. He released a throaty chuckle. 

“Such a good girl.” 

Oh. 

Shit. 

Oh, shit.

Every inch of you froze, your breath catching in your throat. A fresh wave of slick poured out of you as you slowly turned your head to face the phone. Your ears tingled, your fingers gripping anything they could reach. It was like someone had poured ice down your back then dunked you into a hot tub. Your mind felt fuzzy as it replayed those two words over and over. 

You wanted– no, needed to hear them again. 

“W-... what was that?” 

“Hm? Did you like it?” 

You bit down a ‘yes.’ Part of you didn’t want to admit it yet your body began to writhe in protest, the itch now present in your brain begging to be scratched, like a pesky bug bite you were meant to leave alone. 

But temptation won you over in the end. 

“... Maybe.” 

He chortled. You could hear the snarky smirk within it, and scowled in response. 

“Ask nicely, and maybe I’ll say it again.”  

You humphed and fully turned to lie on your side. 

“Meanie.” 

“Well, now you’re not being very good, are you?” 

“Oh, hush,” you said through a giggle. “I’ve just never… heard that before.” 

Talking this much during sex was something only one past partner of yours had been into. He was the first one to actually use dirty talk towards you, though it was leagues milder compared to anything Din had been saying. 

“No one’s told you that?” 

He sounded surprised, almost upset. You chewed on your lip in lieu of answering, unsure of how to proceed. 

“Did you want them to?” 

You gave a quiet hum, your nerves still unwilling to let you admit to it out loud. Evidently, that was enough for him.

“Well,” he started, voice deliciously low and cloaked in silk, “I guess we have lost time to make up for…”  

Your brows perked upward as you waited for him to go on. 

“... Because you’ve been a Very. Good. Girl.” 

The way he accentuated the last three words – gravely, dry, blissfully slow – would’ve made your knees buckle if you were standing. You couldn’t help whimpering as your head hit the pillow once more, your body drowning in a rush of adrenaline and cool pleasure. 

You were a withering leaf clinging to the branch with all you had, and Mr. Djarin’s husky, slightly staticy voice through the phone was the gust of wind that sent you floating down to the ground. 

Your breathy ‘fuck’ was muffled by the pillow, but made him hum nonetheless. 

~~~~

Din was typing up an email when your soft knocking reached his ears. Your grinning face made multiple waves of sensation pulse through him: excitement, desire, curiosity. 

And something else. Something… gentler. It made him let out a sigh, like he was relaxing for the first time that day. 

“Ready for our check-in?” you asked, pad and pen in hand. 

Din nodded and waved you in. He finished up his email as you shut the door and took a seat. He let out a breath as he folded his arms before him, taking in your visage. 

“How’s your day going?” 

“Good,” you said, brows quirking up. “And yours?” 

He shrugged.

“Better now.” 

Watching your eyes widen and your lips disappear made his throat dry out. He drummed his fingers on his desk, willing his eyes to move up from your cute little mouth to no avail. Damn, he wanted to bite it.  

“So,” he cleared his throat and glanced at the paper beside his keyboard. “I only have a few things to discuss with you today.” 

In his scribbly writing, he’d written a few small, almost illegible bullet points. He squinted at the paper in an attempt to make out the words. 

“First thing, have we heard back about the Sanderson account?” 

You nodded and shuffled through your own notes, reciting them to him. Ever impressed at your ability to stay so organized, Din hung onto every word, the soft inflection of your voice like a sweet kiss to his ears. 

He couldn’t help the divergence of his thoughts: picturing your delicate words rising in pitch at the beck of his hand, forming pants and words of pleading instead of contractual details and concerns, moans of pleasure in place of last steps before getting a signature. He imagined your active mouth wrapping around his cock once more, which was now twitching in his pants at the very idea. 

“... so I scheduled a meeting with them next week to finalize.”

“Perfect, thank you,” he gave you a nod. 

You flipped through your notes once more to discuss the other tentative contracts of the month, each move of your lips capturing Din’s full attention. He hardly dared to look away, even as he took his own notes. 

You spoke of your work with a fluidity he’d only known himself to have. From the get-go it had thrown him off; you always had exact answers to his questions, knew every aspect of each account, and on occasion even gave some insight into improving a deal. It was magical to see. 

This meeting was no exception. When he dove into the nitty gritty details you followed with no hesitation, ready to meet any and all inquiry he might have. He almost didn’t want the work talk to end – he didn’t remember a time where he actually enjoyed discussing such boring things. 

But regardless, the final topic was sure to be the best one of the day. 

“Last item on the agenda,” he began, learning forward onto his desk. “There’s a little… assignment coming up next month. And I’d like for you to come with me.” 

“Assignment?” you asked, tilting your head to the side. 

“A conference, actually. In Croatia.” 

“Croatia?!” you sat up so fast, Din worried you’d fall out of the chair. 

He chuckled and gave you the details of the trip: five days total, with three of them spent at the conference, during which Din would give a talk and in general try to increase the company’s clientele overseas. Your job would be to manage his calendar and keep track of things, as always, but also to help him make those connections. 

“Wait,” you started, brow scrunching up in thought. “If you’ve gone to this conference before, how come you haven’t already secured some foreign clients?” 

With a sigh, Din leaned back in his chair. He told the story of what happened last time he went, of overhearing a verbal confrontation and getting hit in an attempt to break it up. 

“It really wasn’t as big a scene as it seems. Some people just can’t handle being wrong. And apparently I’m not much of a ‘people person,’ meaning I wasn’t nice about telling him the hard truth.” Din said with a shrug, sass dripping from his tone. 

Your giggle set his soul aflame. 

“Well, don’t worry, Mr. Djarin,” you started, “I’ll make sure you don’t get yourself banned or injured.” 

“So you’re on board?” 

“Of course. No reason not to be. Plus, Croatia’s on my travel list.” 

“Is it now?” 

Din rested his chin into his palm, his other hand drumming on the desk. You nodded, a gentle grin pulling your cheeks up.  

“Where else do you want to go?” 

Your eyes lit up as you fully leaned into the tangent, mentioning multiple countries, including Greece, Morocco, and South Korea, among others. 

“That’s a pretty nice list,” Din said. 

“Yeah,” you laughed, “There’s a lot I want to see.” 

“Well then, all the more reason to bring you along. Gotta start checking those off.” 

Your smile could brighten the night sky. Your expression was so warm, so innocently golden, it had Din’s heart cartwheeling in his chest. It made him want to learn more about you, give you anything you wanted — as long as he’d get to see that again. 

He gulped. 

These sensations… It was as though he were being forced to breathe concrete instead of oxygen. Thick and heavy, it made his lungs sting. 

No one else had ever inspired anything like this from his heart. Yet here you were, doing it with just a smile. His breath quickened the more he dwelled on it; what did it mean? What was he supposed to do about it? 

He sat up in his chair and refocused on the topic at hand, trying with all his might to ignore the sudden clamminess of his palms.

~~~~

One month later, you were packing your suitcase in the evening glow of your room’s desk lamp. 

You were to be jetting off with Mr. Djarin directly after the following workday, and you couldn’t help the slight jitteriness of your movements. 

All month long he had been bringing up this trip, but besides the team-wide meetings about it, business seemed to be the furthest thing from his mind. 

Yes, every now and then he’d talk you through his presentation or give you information about other companies that would be there, but more than anything, he was a constant tease. 

Any chance he got he would wind and unwind your every nerve with a few mere words or touches of his hand, velvet promises of what was to come dripping from his lips at each turn. The past week had been the most brutal; he’d build you up and up at his desk, or in the supply closet, or even in the kitchen when the rest of your coworkers had already left for the night.

He’d do as little as whisper in your ear or as much as rub your clit through your panties – all while his sleeves were rolled up to the elbow because he knew, he knew how much you liked that – but not once did he finish the job. Nor did he grace your ears with your favorite words. 

You’d shriek into the empty space and plead for it, clawing at his arms and shoulders, tugging at his tie, staring into his golden brown eyes with desperation as they grinned back at you with satisfaction. He’d shake his head and grab hold of the back of your neck, forcing your squirming form to still at his command. 

‘Oh, don’t worry, I know exactly what you want. But the next time you cum will be right before I fuck you, Cupcake. Not. A moment. Sooner. Is that understood?’  

The memory alone was enough to make you quiver and nod to no one. The phantom touch of his hands crawled up and down your body, making your muscles fall slack and reduce to liquid. You groaned and flopped over your clothes. What the hell, Mr. Djarin. 

But even though you were sexually frustrated beyond belief, to his credit, he was right there with you; he didn’t let you finish him off a single time. He didn’t let you call him Din. He didn’t even let you touch his cock without at least his briefs to separate your skin from his. Ah, to see him in a crumbled state such as your own, how sweet it would be. You stole a glance at the new panties you bought specifically for this trip; he’d get his penance for making you wait this long. 

You wondered what he was doing right then as you recovered your composure and shoved a sweater into your suitcase with more force than was necessary. Was he also packing? Or was he pacing around, impatient with his own waiting game? Maybe something else entirely?

Now that you thought about it, you had no idea what that man did for fun. Who he was outside of that office. You’d been working for him for eight months, and even though you’d seen some of the most intimate sides of him, there was so much about him as a person that you just didn’t know. 

It seemed like he knew a lot about you. As you thought through the few casual conversations you shared with him, a noticeable pattern of him turning topics towards you began to make itself more apparent. Your travel list. Your favorite sweets. And most recently while making the travel arrangements, your preferred airplane seat. Why didn’t he talk more about himself? 

With a breath you stuffed a dress into the suitcase, making a mental promise to use this prime opportunity to peel back a layer or two from the mystery that was Din Djarin.

****

[dllamarama]

Episode 6 Queen of Tears BaekHong recap

Scene: Ramen and chill

After the emotional kiss they served to us, we finally saw a definite shift in their relationship. We can finally see them moving forward together, hand in hand. But Hyun Woo’s betrayal will be exposed, because YES found his divorce paper, we knew their happiness will be short and their suffering will continue. They are having ramen as a dinner and we saw that Hae In is already losing hope after being rejected by the cancer centre and she is already prepared to face her death. During her talk, if you look at Hyun Woo's expression it is exactly what I previously thought about him. He was not ready to face the reality, which is why he denies his feelings for her. He could no longer accept the fact that Hae In is dying, he knows now that he really can’t live without her. Before, he was hoping for her death, but now he is desperately hoping for a miracle to happen so that Hae In could live. He loves her. Hae In revealed to Hyun Woo about her will that she wrote before they got married. She wrote it because she wanted to marry him and her mother won’t give her blessings without the will. Once again, Hae In proves that she has always been sincere with her love for Hyun Woo, and Hyun Woo only realising it now. He probably felt stupid and pathetic for believing in Grace’s lie and doubting Hae In. He felt the weight of his previous actions and felt guilty for them, he makes her believe that he loves her when he was not and for making her trust him that he is the only one that will stay by her side and protect her. My heart just ached so much for them during this scene, because after the revelation of the divorce paper, all the things that he said to her during this moment were overshadowed by the effect of his divorce paper. Hae In will no longer remembers this moment after that because his betrayal left a big impact on her.

After so long, they are finally using the same bedroom again and this time they both wanted it. They are ready to mend their marriage life that has been overdue for too long. But, (sigh… why does things never work smoothly for these idiots) Hae In is hesitant and she feels that it is too awkward and early to take things further. So they start with small talk about everyday life. Hae In mentions Yena which was involved in a minor car accident a few days ago and her husband that insisted on her signing inheritance paper before anything happened. Hae In said to Hyun Woo that she is fortunate to have him as her husband and there is no other guy like him. Not knowing that Hyun Woo was plotting behind her back and now facing the guilt for lying to her and pretending to be worried for her.

He has finally FINALLY come back to his senses and our sweet Baek Hyun Woo has returned! He knows for sure now that no matter what happens in the future, he won’t leave her and he is sincerely praying that Hae In will be able to recover from her cancer. They are making small steps to mend their broken marriage by spending time together in Germany. Germany really holds the key to their marriage (and will also bring them misery). A very short recap to when Hyun Woo was meeting with the doctor, there is a very short moment where the scene shows Hyun Woo clasping his hands when the doctor agrees to try another procedure to increase Hae In’s white blood cells. While his face and voice did not even falter for a bit, it seems that it was probably the last resort to appeal to the doctor. He couldn't afford the doctor to reject them and when the doctor finally gave them the chance, he was relieved. A competent lawyer with a very good argument at that point was actually not confident and nervous. He was scared that there was nothing they could do for Hae In.

Scene: Strolling around Germany

Oblivious to the ruckus that happened back home, they spend their day exploring Germany just like how they did during their honeymoon. It started with them waiting for a train and Hyun Woo being the centre of attention again. That face card never declined apparently. Seeing them fight about petty things is the peak romcom we finally get from this series. Hae In’s jealousy of her perfect husband with a lot of admirers and Hyun Woo’ jealousy for Hae In’s first love (himself). The romcom is finally romcom-ing. They went to find their lock at the bridge but failed, walking around the day market aimlessly, just talking and eating together. When Hae In bought the four-leaf clover, it is obvious that she is holding onto any hopes that come her way. Hyun Woo noticed that and his expression darkened. He was not expecting Hae In to actually believe in the words that the salesman was saying, but he knows that she probably felt insecure and not confident to recover from her illness. They went back to the hospital for Hae In to receive her injection and she was baffled at the fact that her weight increased by 3kg. But this time, she looks brighter than the first time she arrived at the hospital alone. Because this time she has Baek Hyun Woo by her side. On her way to the treatment room, Hae In’s symptoms appear and this time she sees her dead older brother. Hyun Woo frantically ran outside when the nurse told him that she was seen leaving the hospital grounds from the CCTV. They share a deep talk about her disappearance and the reason behind her brother’s death. The talk made him understand her better and actually build a stronger foundation of his newfound love for her. They need to communicate more to understand each other and it won’t be until in later episode where they realise how bad they were at communicating to each other.

Scene: A big storm is coming

Hae In needed all the luck in this world and his husband is on the run to get them all for her. Can we just admire for a few seconds there, how fast he is running and how good he is at running. Man, so damn good looking at doing the most basic thing (but is anything ever basic when you’re THE Kim Soo Hyun). Back at home, everyone is furious due to his divorce paper and accusing Hyun Woo of whistle blowing. This family is so stupid no one can save them anymore. Once again we noticed how detailed-oriented Hyun Woo is. He is actually able to find their lock because he remembers the position of the cathedral when they put it there 3 years ago. Sad BGM is on, and we know our hearts will be crushed with them. They’re on the opposite side of the road when she switches on her phone (whyyyy) and finds out his divorce papers from her mom. Fuuuuuuuuuuuu…..

Summary:

Silence for the pain that they (we) need to endure for the upcoming episodes. Sigh… their happiness and our happiness is too short-lived. Baek-Hong war will start and it’s time for Hyun Woo to receive his karma for wishing for his wife’s death. He will pay for it and HARD at that.

[spiridakos]

I really do understand your perspective on how it’s too late to fix upstead and how one scene with Jay isn't going to fix all the damage they’ve done. It also would be a miracle if the same guy the writers have spent the last 2 seasons turning into a villain and bad mouthing every chance they got they all of a sudden decided to have come back and be the old Jay again. But just wanted to provide a different perspective. I stopped watching last season because I was no longer able to believe the writing, that’s not who Jay is and anyone who was a long time viewer or hell even a short time viewer knows that. So I can accept and do want a happy upstead ending IF (big IF) we get one because i never bought any of the horrible rewrite of Jay’s character in the first place. Not sure if I’m making sense but that’s how I’m looking at it, I didn’t buy the shitty husband and shitty person storyline for Jay so I can easily forget it because I never believed it.

I totally agree with you that it's NOT Jay, which is why I've kinda blocked everything out post-wedding and cut their story there for myself in my mind. I'm totally with you there, his character did a full one-eighty as soon as she took over. But, I'd also argue that Hailey isn't really even Hailey anymore - she has just become an absolute shell of herself. It makes me sad to see how she's turned two characters I adore into just...nothing?

And like...I want Upstead endgame. I feel like some people are twisting what I've actually said, because that's what they always do around here.

I didn't buy the shitty husband act either, but it's still what she wrote. It's still what happened, and Hailey has still been alone for two years without contact from him. I need an explanation for that. I need Jay to explain that to me, to her. I can't just watch a thirty second reunion seen without seeing him own his shit, I need him to tell her that wasn't him because of x, y, and z, because Hailey deserves that explanation. She needs to hear that he still loves her, that he still wants to make it work. I don't think I can accept it being Hailey (if that's how it were to play out) because, it just doesn't make sense to me. I might not buy the shitty husband angle either, but he still did abandon her for two years. It doesn't just erase the last two seasons, y'know?

I guess long story short, is I think this is a story that needs to be fleshed out over multiple episodes. Thirty seconds/one scene just won't cut it, at least for me.

But, alas, nothing has actually happened yet, I just have concerns is all.

[legendary-pink-dot]

Hi Dot

'Stages of Growth' has its Fan Fiction Birthday on 23rd June 🎂

Happy birthday!

Tell us something about that fic, anything you like, and we'll help blow out the candles and wish it many happy returns!

You can save this ask until the actual date or reply whenever you like.

OMG, thank you @secretelephanttattoo 🥹🥹🥹

"Stages of Growth" is the second fave fic I've ever written. It was one of those magical moments where I had an Inspiration (in this case, Frankie's hair) and the words came flowing out of my fingers as fast as I could type.

I didn't have to think about plot, character, canon, any of it.... it just kind of wrote itself. In fact, I banged out the entire thing on my work lunch break, which if you know me is nothing short of a miracle because I tend to sweat over every single word I write and it takes absolutely forever. 🤷‍♀️

Can't believe it's been a year since I wrote it! Time really flies, especially when you're on an extended writing & reading hiatus.

(I have a WIP sitting in my writing app that's an extended version of one of the moments in Stages of Growth. I'll finish it eventually.)

Thank you for letting me ramble on and also for reading my little slice of Pedro hair appreciation porn. 🥰 Sorry for being obsessed with his hair. It WILL happen again.

[bronskibeet]

isha @cosmicrhetoric has tagged me to share 9 book recs and after racking my brains I have finally come up with 9 things that ive read & think other people should read. details under the readmore

song of solomon by toni morrison: This is the first of her books that I read so while I'd recommend any of them this one is my favorite lol. it's the first novel she wrote with a male protagonist and iirc because of this she wrote it w the "hero's journey" monomyth more closely in mind. so it mainly follows the protagonist's upbringing in early 30s segregated michigan and his journey south to recover a piece of his family's history. however the story spins out to examine his whole extended family in detail and paints these really vivid portraits of their lives and how they all tie together. there's an element of magical realism to it, it's very grand in scope and equal parts awe-inspiring and tragic. I'd suggest giving it a read if only because any summary of mine is not gonna do it justice

piranesi by susanna clarke: short but gripping book about a guy who has been living in and studying an infinite labyrinth for a couple of years but has no recollection of his past or how he got there. I read this in about a day on isha's recommendation and basically couldn't put it down the whole time

quantum criminals by alex pappademas and joan lemay: essential reading for any Steely Dan enthusiasts or even the casual danfan. collection of nonfiction essays divided up by "characters" from the songs and accompanied by terrifically vivid illustrations of said characters: hoops mccann from "glamour profession", the gaucho amigo from "gaucho", etc... really well-researched and not super concerned with dissecting the "meaning" of individual song lyrics (which is fine. i have already read too much comments section discourse about who the rival from "my rival" actually is), but great at contextualizing each song in the big picture of SD's career.

a visit from the goon squad by jennifer egan: ten or fifteen short stories from varying povs and time periods, loosely centered around a music industry exec and his assistant. each story shares at least one link to the preceding one, and then near the end they get even more densely interconnected. i read this primarily because i was thinking of the elvis costello song "goon squad", and I'd heard one of the chapters was told as a child's powerpoint presentation (on "great rock and roll pauses"). as it turns out the book title's got nothing to do with the song but it's still a lot of fun to read

rosencrantz and guildenstern are dead by tom stoppard: if you are even glancingly familiar with hamlet and have not read/seen/etc. this play: RUN don't walk to get your hands on a copy asap this shit rocks. simple as

the crying of lot 49 by thomas pynchon: i get that Pynchon has a reputation but this is a great first novel of his to read. it's short plus it manages to fit in all the long tangents, postal service conspiracies, 60s paranoia, and guys with insane names that you could ever want (emery bortz is my favorite). there's a passage near the end, where the protagonist considers spreading her inheritance among the transient population of america, that mentions people sleeping up in telephone lines among "the secular miracle of communication", and I'm not really doing the whole thing justice but it's stayed with me for years after first reading.

the wall by jean-paul sartre (translated by lloyd alexander): collection of five existentialist short stories, very chilly and evocative. i was handed a copy of this as a teenager by my deadbeat uncle who solemnly informed me that the 'wall' in the title was not just the literal wall from the first story, where a group of prisoners are sent to be executed, but a 'wall' separating the protagonist of each story from the rest of society. i may not trust that uncle on most things but i do on this one

something that may shock and discredit you by daniel lavery: transition memoir from the guy who used to write for dear prudence that came along at the exact right point in my life hahahaha. but it's worth reading even apart from that lol it's got some analysis of columbo, 1979 steve martin movie "the jerk", biblical scripture, etc. mixed in, it's written in a very funny and conversational tone that works well as a whole.

monstrous regiment by terry pratchett: book that got me into discworld!! on its face it's a mulan story where a girl disguises herself as a boy and joins the army to find her missing brother. then it's a balls to the wall farce where she gradually discovers that each of her fellow soldiers has some kind of secret to hide. then it's a serious interrogation of blind faith and patriotism and the horrors of war. however it's still the other things at the same time so while all that is happening she's getting bit in the nuts by a horse and having to fake being in pain bc the horse bit a rolled up sock. also it's nice to see gay and trans characters written with tact and depth and dignity in a comedy book that came out in the early 00s

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going to tag... @jillianajones @pastelrabbits @ringneckedpheasant @mousetrapreplica @thatfrogisbog @lavendercountry and anyone else who sees this & wishes to share book recs. as always no obligations 👍

[miracleandplagueau]

Let's talk about why Miracle and Plague will be a short series and additionally why I chose to write out characters such as Kagami, Zoe, Felix (I'm sorry baby </3)

Miracle and Plague won't be very long. In fact, It will be twice as short as the canon, purely because I feel like the series lost that sparkle, that thing that really made it special somewhere in the season 3. All of it started feeling worn out, boring or just annoying. It's also when the decision to re-estate Chloe as a villain really took place, so I'm obviously very displeased with how the seasons went on, but It's not the only reason! Adrien's character got completely assasinated, replaced by 10 and more heroes. I really like the doubt arc they had going for him, but It was never actually memorable or so impactful. All the focus seemed to be on Marinette and her issues, but the character who's the closest to the main villain, the one with a ton of their own insecurities to be explored was pushed aside. To add to that, the newer heroes were becoming boring or just straight up made me sigh when Ladybug needed to go get someone to help. Don't even get me started on the mass-hero episodes like Partycrusher or Penalteam. It was a lot squished together into 2 seasons where If not for the miraculous reveal, It would've been nothing short of a filler episode.

I feel like not adding too many plotlines, characters is simply a better idea. It'll ensure that all the existing ones will be explored to their best potential. Adrien's family story, Chloe's character, Chloe and Sabrina's relationship, Jiayi and Lila's relationship/rivalry, Alya's hero potential, Lila's urge for chaos, Monarch/Gabriel's motivation, Master Fu's backstory, possible expansion of Wonders - these are very good plotlines! Not even mentioning the side/less important plots like Luka and Jiayi's past, Unicorn band, Juleka wanting to be a model, Juleka and Rose's plot, Alix's hidden Wonder, Natalie's crush on Gabriel, Adrien's self-discovery. There's a LOT of them already and to add like 10 more just because I want a new character would extend and complicate the plot further. Not that I wouldn't take the challenge, but I just want to see this series conclude in a way that in my opinion is more satisfying than whatever we're getting.

As for the characters I wrote out.. I think most of them already have a sort of pattern to them where you can tell why I removed them.

Zoe. Oh Zoe, the worst character I've had the displeasure of seeing on screen. I already reblogged plenty of content in regards to her, so I'll just refrain from writing a rant on that excuse of a character.

As much as I would've loved to keep Kagami (I still might), I really feel she wouldn't fit the narrtive so nicely. Of course, she appears in Riposte, but upon reviewing the timeline of MnP, that's literally the only episode she is taking an active part in as of today. I don't really see a reason to keep her in the lore If she'll appear once and never again, It feels a bit counterproductive, but like I said, I am still thinking about this one, because her and Adrien have so much potential in development; both coming from strict, cold households, both fencing... They do have quite a bit in common. Maybe If I just move Riposte to season 1....

Moving on to Felix, I believe I already mentioned that my first opinion of him was bitter. I didn't really like him being there and the fact that he look eerily like Adrien as If they'd reused his model was just weird (ig now we know WHY season 5 spoilers). Then, the opinion shifted to much better after mostly Emotion really and since then I really did like him, but... Looking at his journey from the end of season 3 to here and his role in the overarching plot I feel like he just wouldn't fit to MnP, not with the format I'm going for.

Besides, can I just mention how random it was that Emilie and Felix's mom look literally identical AND their sons look identical as well? It made me so confused when I first watched the episode lmao

[bunysliper]

I hope that person didn’t make you feel obligated to finish your fic before you were ready to.

Hi Anon!

So the short answer is no, I didn't wrap up writing the fic early because they were rude and impatient and nagged me about it (in fact, nagging me about anything is the quickest way to get me to not do it, or to take my time on it out of spite - just ask my mother). So hopefully they won't be patting themselves on the back anytime soon, 'cause they've got nothing to be proud of; I didn't do any of this for or because of them. I just finished writing a chapter and realized the fic felt complete as it was.

The longer answer goes something like this: I'd been working on the fic whenever I could for so, so long. I started writing from both the back and the front working to meet in the middle in order to try to get it done sooner. I actually wrote the epilogue in November 2021. At one point I had three chapters going at once, and I had some really good writing times, but I've also had weeks where if I wrote 200 words total of anything, it was a miracle, so it's been an absolute crapshoot for what each week would bring over the last couple years. For a while I hit a wall and couldn't write a word, couldn't physically or mentally bring myself to do anything. One day I was writing standing up while monitoring a standardized test and I couldn't write fast enough for my brain. It has truly been a toss up as to what I'm going to get and your guess is as good as mine for when things will happen. But things have gotten done - eventually.

And then a couple of weeks ago, after Impatient Patty's message, I was finally able to finish up Chapter 13. I got inspiration for the final little scene while I was showering (wrote it down on my shower notepad!) and I had enough time and brain power to bridge the gap with what I already had and boom. Got it done.

I did originally have one more chapter planned in the current iteration of my outline (which had already undergone a couple of chapter merges and a previous chapter cut), but the more I looked at the outline, the less it felt like the story needed that chapter. It didn't advance the story as much as it it confirmed things we'd already seen and heard in other chapters, so I decided that it wasn't necessary to have. I had the chapter that came after the originally planned one, I had the epilogue, and it felt like the fic was complete the way it was.