#i feel like tumblr is gonna mess up the original post's order

[leebrontide]

Ok so I said I would do a post on “reasons you’re not writing” from the POV of a writer/therapist who works with anxious, depressed, and neurodivergent clients. If you dig that, read on.

But firstly, a disclaimer. This list is far from comprehensive. Don’t yell at me if your experience isn’t represented. This is a tumblr post. Have realistic expectations.

Also, sometimes the reason you’re not writing is that your other obligations are just taking all of your energy and focus. Fixing that is well beyond the scope of this.

That said, here’s a bunch of barriers I see people run into all the time.

1) You’re afraid of failing, and subconsciously feel like it’s safer not to try.

This is a tricky one, because it's probably messing up many areas of your life, which in turn means you're going to frequently feel stressed out in general, which speaks to the point above.

This is around about where the general internet will tend to offer you an array of affirmations to use to sooth yourself. And that's fine. If those work for you, then use them! BUT, if the affirmations aren't working, then friend you have a bigger project on your hands.

You need to get comfortable with failing, particularly at creative projects. I know that can feel scary and vulnerable, but you won't take risks if you can't fail, which is going to hem in your creativity so hard that your motivation will starve. This is why people talk about writing a garbage draft. Not because they want to make garbage, but because they need the option of making garbage in order to take risks. That may or may not work for you, but either way, you really might wanna look at how to lower your stakes.

2) You’re not sure what you’re trying to communicate.

You can make things happen in the story, but you feel like you’re wandering around aimlessly. You don't find you're making decisions with conviction. It might be hard to really fall in love with any of your writing decisions.

For this one, I suggest stepping back and figuring out what the core of your enthusiasm for a story consists of. That CAN be a message or philosophy. It can also be a feeling or a vibe or a dynamic. That gives you a structure that you can build your decisions around, that you can be enthusiastic about.

3) You switched hyperfocus. And maybe your new hyperfocus is a lot of fun, but you feel sadness thinking about the WIP you left behind.

This one has a similar need to the one before, with an added layer of nuance, because you're probably already struggling with identifying what does interest you. This can make people feel really hopeless and helpless.

I have three totally different suggestions for this one. The first is to just be patient with yourself. Sometimes it's good for your brain to just indulge, and let your brain mine for dopamine where it can. Like, lean in. Spa day for your brain, as long as it's feeling good.

Secondly, see if you can find creative ways to weave your hyperfocus into your writing. Is there a dynamic in your favorite show that can inspire your writing, even if it's an original work? Do you want to take a moment to think about how transportation works in the history of your world? Can you consider your MCs relationship to old movies?

It doesn't always work, but sometimes instead of trying to switch things over, you can build a bridge, that gives depth and texture to your work.

Finally- consider embracing short fiction! Do some writing inspired directly by the hyperfocus du joir while it's around.

4) You feel like nothing you say will be interesting to anyone else.

We understand this is a self-esteem issue, right? You're gonna have to develop the trust that your experiences are not so utterly unrelatable to everyone else that your perspective has no value.

Friend, you are a human, with human experiences, writing for other humans. Trust me, you can do this.

It can help to think about your actual convictions. What do you know? What have you experienced? What matters to you? Funnily enough, the cure for feeling like nothing in you is worth expressing is to pour more of yourself into your writing.

5) You’re collapsed. It’s hard to feel enthusiasm and energy for things.

You're not gonna like this, but for this one I encourage you to put your keyboard or notebook down and stop trying to write right now. I know that when you're feeling better the writing feels good, and you're trying to feel better because everyone is telling you to feel better.

But it's not working, is it? If it was, you wouldn't be reading this.

For many people, writing requires them to be able to feel investment and excitement, because those feelings help steer them towards what's going to work and be exciting for the reader.

Your best bet is to focus your energy on finding gentle little activities that aren't so hard to focus on. Ideally, ones that get you moving just a little bit. You'll have a better time writing when you're less collapsed.

Shaming yourself and getting hopeless and anxious because you can't do this really difficult task right now will make you more collapsed, not less, which will be the opposite of helpful.

And yes, these are depression symptoms. Consider reaching out for supports and assessment around that if you can.

6) You can’t figure out the next step.

Thank God for the internet, this one is a lot more actionable than it used to be.

The first thing to do here is step back and ask yourself "where am I getting lost?" If you have someone to talk this through with, even better.

Then you hop on to your favorite search engine and type in "Stuck on my outline 2nd act" or "can't get started editing" or whatever. People LOVE giving writing advice. There's plenty around. Read some advice! Try things out!

Now here is the critical point- when and if that advice fails, stop and figure out why it failed. For example, I have a short term memory disorder. Most writing process advice is for people who do not have short term memory impairments. So a lot of the advice just plain didn't work for me.

By figuring out that my subpar memory was in the way of my writing process, I was able to put together processes that work for my specific brain and my specific process. You can read about that in more depth here and here.

Frankenstien yourself a process out of stolen bits of other people's processes, with an understanding of your own personalized needs as the lightning that brings it all to life. If you have even traits of ADHD or autism or other forms of neurodiversity (no diagnosis needed) you might also google "ADHD editing hacks".

Finally, and maybe most importantly, chuck anything that you can't adapt right into the trash. I don't care how great the writer who gave the advice is. That's what works for their life and their brain. You have neither. Writing advice is only as useful as it is adaptable.

7) You think of yourself as someone who doesn’t finish things, possibly with history to back that up.

Oh, I feel this one. This was me so hard. For so long.

Make room for the idea that you can and will change over time. Getting shit done is largely a matter of developing a bunch of skills. You've already developed so many different skills in your life that you might not even recognize some of them as skills. But I promise you that you have.

But you see #6? Go read that one again. If you're not finishing things, it's because there's something missing in your routine and process that you haven't developed skills around yet.

I'm not gonna tell you it's easy, but you can find and isolate the barriers and figure out ways around them.

8) You have too many projects and feel frozen when you try to pick one to work on.

Ask yourself if this is a real problem. It may be! Maybe you dream of making a living off of your writing! That requires a level of consistency.

But it also might just be that you've had it drilling into your head that not finishing things is some kind of personal failing.

Write out all your WIPs and story seeds.

See if some of them can be mushed into one. Some AMAZING stories come from people combining story ideas that seem separate into a single story. That's fun.

See if some of them are not for finishing. What's that post going around? Some stories are for finishing, and some are just for "getting the wiggles out"? That's solid advice.

Maybe some stories are just for daydreaming on the bus. Maybe some stories are actually only 1/3rd of a story, and you want to leave it to grow in the ground before you try to do anything with it. That's incredibly valid and common!

If you actually look at the stories that you have that are for finishing, right now, you may find a much more manageable number. And if you only have like 2 or 3 things you're working on, you can just let them take turns as the passion for each project takes you.

Keep a file somewhere of these undeveloped ideas. I have a scrivner file that has each idea it's own little sub-document so I can add thoughts to them for years as they percolate.

9) You get lost in preparation and don’t make it to the page.

A couple different things can be happening here. One thing that may be happening is that you're just a writer who needs a lot of research and prep time before you write. I'm like that. I will prewrite intensively for a year before I write a single sentence. That sounds ridiculous to a lot of people but it works with how my brain works and then when I do start writing I can easily and happily churn out a consistent 2-4k words per hour. If it works it works! Don't let anyone shame you!

The other option is that you feel like you're going to get something wrong/fail/get in trouble if you get anything "wrong". You feel safer doing research, so that's where you stay.

Only you can figure out which it is. Introspect. Then you know whether to focus on managing anxiety or just keep preppin.

10) You want to write, but when you sit down to write suddenly it’s two hours later and you’ve written like 5 words but curated 3 new playlists, read some fanfiction, and argued with some strangers on the internet.

Brains are rough, aren't they.

There are two schools of thought here. Both work, but not for all the same people.

Option 1 is to clear distractions. Download one of those apps that keeps you off the internet. Put your phone someplace that you need a ladder to reach, so you have to very actively decide to go get it. Noise cancelling headphones. Comfy clothes. Protein rich snacks and a beverage within easy reach. Pee ahead of time. Make a routine out of it to train your brain into associating this with focus.

Option 2 is to figure out the optimal level of distraction. When I write nonfiction I almost always have mindless home renovation shows on at the same time. Because nonficiton writing isn't quite stimulating enough to hold my attention. So my attention wanders and I end up doing something that WILL hold my attention. When I write fiction, I need music OR to be outdoors where I can look at trees or clouds or people on the sidewalk. I can't watch any kind of TV.

Think of your attention like a pie chart. Different writing tasks may take up different percentages of that pie. If you're awesome at focus maybe you can just put 90% of your focus on writing, and the other 10% is just making sure you don't forget to eat or something. But if you can't reliably conjure up more than 70% for one thing, then fill the rest of the pie with things you can easily pick up and put down. I only look up at the home decorating shows when my passive audio scanning suggests it's something I want to look up at.

These are both good approaches. Ignore anyone who demonizes either. That only means they've found the version that works for them.

You have your brain. Build a process for your brain.

I hope this helps. I have a free monthly newsletter if you like hearing my rants. It is...not consistently about writing advice or mental health. One time I wrote about how genetically modified goats are related to French colonized Madagascar in the 1800s as well as the modern US military. One time I broke down modern challenges to medical privacy practice policies. This is all to do with what I write but in an idiosyncratic way.

Cause I gotta write about what I care about.

[shmowder]

🤯🖤🤯🖤 Ok, that settles it - I think I really will try to replay P2. Now it's all on my mind. Hello Darkness by Theodor Bastard my old friend 🫶 I feel kind of bad that I can't give much in the way of an intellectual reply, but please never worry about retelling anything I may already know (or getting too niche)! It's been two years since I played, and I'm realizing that I haven't retained many of the details, but rest assured I do enjoy reading your thoughts, and the passion you have for the game is contagious (I didn't realize I was making a plague related pun until it had already been typed...)!!

I totally get the "antagonist is your own ego" thing with Stardew. It can be frustrating trying to pace yourself when there's just so much to do, and knowing that it's impossible to do it all in one day. As far as villagers go - why am I suddenly picturing Bad Grief as, like, Redd from Animal Crossing, selling fake paintings? It must be the hair 😂 Yulia can help me plan out my farm because even when I was thriving in year 3, visually it was a bit of a mess, and I'm sure not laid out optimally.

Oooh how cool is that picture of the Executors bowing down before Aglaya... (as an aside, I took the quiz you linked to and Executor was my result lmao). And <333 I can't believe we have the same favorite characters. I'd be happy to read anything you write about them.

Something clicked when you used the word "gentle" when describing how Yulia is with Artemy. You're so right. I think part of the reason I'm drawn to her and Victor is they both seem to have a gentleness to them, or if not that then a stillness, quietness, introspection. And sadness. Even Aglaya for all her strict imposing presence has a sadness to her.

I did a little more poking around the P1 part of the Wiki - Sticky's animal being a kitten is the cutest thing in the WORLD 🥹

And thank you! Now I'm intrigued by this, shall we say, unorthodox emoji choice - but I understand if you don't want to say it 😆

I'm sorry you haven't been feeling well :( I hope things get better for you, and that you can find some relief through this blog ^^ I've been alright; I saw that you have a birthday coming up and mine was about a week ago! Gemini twins~

🐿️ anon

IT WAS YOUR BIRTHDAY LAST WEEK!! WE ARE TWINS HORRAY <33333 HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAY I MADE THIS FOR YOU

Don't mind the cupcake. They both assumed the other person's gonna bring the cake and had to improvise really quickly

Mine is still a few days away, hehe 6/9 hehehe. It's gonna be fun. It's why I originally started the "what the pathologic characters bring for your birthday" drabble series but my god it was the hardest writing exercise ever??? I was a shriveled up husk of a human afterwards and had to throw in the towel. I don't think I'll ever do the termites or humbles rip.

You did mention people that you liked my Hysteria fics and that made me very happy <3 It encouraged me to continue and write the last and third part, even compiled the drabbles and posted them on AO3 so they don't end up swallowed up and lost by tumblr's gutters.

I don't think of my replies or characters analysis as intellectual tbh, I'm just throwing up words and saying what's on mind. So I never expect anything high-brow or even well formmated in return. You're doing wonderful and your replies have been a real delight to recieve and read, I promise.

And yes, the gentleness! The three of them are aimlessly drifting in an ocean of melancholy. You get it! They seem cold and detached, but deep down, they're incredibly sensitive. They're calculated yet so full of emotions. They understand people, and they dig past the surface in other's until they fully comprehend their structure, evualting their core and understanding what gives them meaning. They're thoughtful in their own way that most people miss.

Take Victor, for example. He tends to be polite even while giving orders, using please and thank you even in the most miniscule of requests. The way he doesn't take fault to any of Artemy's mean comments or insults about him and the Kains, he doesn't take your hostility to heart and keeps talking and cooperating with you.

He's patient with Artemy, much like Yulia is gentle with you. He explains the structures and their purpose, he explains to you how time flows and works, he shares his plans for the future at the end of the game, condensing the complex visions into simple terms for you to understand, without being condcending and without being asked to.

Like when your teacher explains to a child why can birds fly, how planes work and why flight is such an achievement for humanity. He has the patience of a loving parent that wants to share his admiration for the innovations in the world with you. But he keeps himself grounded through all of it, doesn't let excitement nor passion steer him away from giving you his full attention when you interrupt with a question.

Even after that, he still extends an invitation for you to join him, to join them, the future awaiting just across the river, a world born anew. Saying, "Of course, you'll always be welcome there"—you—the one who destroyed the hopes and dreams of everything his family has ever amounted for. He still welcomes you with open arms, inviting the ripper along to the heavens.

-

Meanwhile, the player can almost make Aglaya tear in the literal first ingame meeting. Nothing major, just the hint of a few tears when you pick the sincere from the heart dialogue options the Haruspex is known for. It moves her, genuinely moves her.

And by that point, she still is apathetic towards Artemy and is burtal and efficient with her words. This isn't the soft loving Aglaya you get at the end of the game, this is the steel inquisitor Lilich you're being questioned by.

Yet she is almost moved to tears.

You know those types of people that bury themselves under 13 layers of irony to be able to even function? The people who can't self-actualize or speak sincerely in fear of being perceived as cringe? the people who refuse to take anything to heart no matter how raw or moving? Because it's safer to not let the world affect you, it's safer to shut out both the good and the bad. It's familiar.

Aglaya is on the far extreme opposite end of that. She looks for the meaning of life in everything, be it under a rock or over a bridge. She dissects everyone's words, she tests how much their weight would truly hold up against feathers in the brutal scales of her mind.

She isn't afraid to feel emotions. She isn't afraid to face herself and her vulnerability as a human being. To be raw and open, completely unphased by the spears piercing into her soft bare flesh because she knows pain is part of being human. That pain is the price of growing up. Part of the process of being a full-fledged being with a soul.

She is not controlled by her ego nor pride. She knows that she knows nothing which is the greatest strength she holds over all of the factions in pathologic, which is the sole reason she is able to outsmart and manipulation the bachelor himself in his own game of chess.

She understands pain, she understands happiness and she understands what it's like to not have a purpose. To struggle to survive when your life is at the mercy of the whims of children.

Aglaya is probably the most emotional character in all of Pathologic for how many feelings she contains and doesn't shy away from. The rollercoaster these 5 days have been to her since she arrived in town. Dealing with anger and revenge with Daniil, discovering trust, love, and a new meaning for life with Artemy, learning about powers beyond anyone's control with Clara.

It is ironic how she appears as the most cold and apathetic to onlookers based on their personal opinions of her.

Yet not even a single crack forms in her sanity. She accepts the theory of the town being alive almost immediately.

She thinks. Truly uses both her brain & heart, and doesn't make her decisions based on personal biases and gut feelings.

Cogito ergo eum

Therefore, she is.

-

On a last note, Sticky's animal being a kitten genuinely made my week so much better. I kept thinking about that fact whenever I was in a bad mood and how fitting it is since he clings after Artemy left and right, following him and fearing abandonment just because his dad took too long in the shower once ouch my heart. It's so fitting!!!

A cub and a kitten!!! what more could you ask for??

That detail definitely slipped me by, thank you so much for bringing it up to me. My life just got ten times better with that imagery in my head.

I hope you have a wonderful day! I had fun writing this <3 thanks for existing.

[saltjam]

My Tmnt Oc: June (aka, i wanna ramble)

So, i just realized, this is tumblr and nothing is stopping me from yelling into the void about my and how much i love her and how much i love the turtles.

Now in order to not make this post a super long wall post like the "do you like the color of the sky" post, will put the line thing to make this part small and bite sized. you can skip if you want and not read that is fine, this is mainly so i can ramble about her and all the lore i thought of her. i will be ordering this post in order of when the different series came out and i will be sticking with the main four

which are as follows: 1987, 2003, 2012, and rise

these are my main focus since i've seen each and i feel comfortable molding June to each. i haven't seen the new movie yet but i don't think she'd work, same goes for other versions like the 2014 movies and that one batman movie (i wanna watch it so fucking bad)

with that covered, the read more line

so before i start i would like to give some background on who/june is, for starters she is a robot and not an actual human. in the lore for '87, '03, and '12 she is created and referred to as the Juniper or Jupiter project (for '87) thus the name June, for Rise it's different as she is actually made as a child for a big Dragon milf and her lil nerd husband; still made in a lab but she's more organic made as she is they're baby.

another thing i would like to state is that June originally a self insert for my persona Jam (this also why the J names) but i liked her enough to make her, her own oc. as well originally she was going to be giving Mikey kisses across the bored but then i thought "well i love all of them, and there are four of em, and i'm making four versions of the oc. so no one is really gonna stope me" and this each june is with a different brother so they all can get some kisses

a constant for all June is that they are all some type of robot/cybernetic

now let's start diving into each June!

June (1987): The Big Sister

Full name: June Lynn

So June for 1987 i thought it would be cute if she was like another older sister for the turtle (Since April also takes an older sister role) so she is shipped with Leo as he is the oldest brother. seeing as i am rather young i haven't watched that much of the 1987 series but i have developed her a little bit

she would be very protective of not only leo but the others as well, when it comes to inspiration for how i would want her robot form to look, i thought a more Transformers like look would fit since they came out around the same time (i'm also just a huge fan of Transformers)

when it comes to how she met the turtles, i imagine she helped them from a few mousers.

the few images i have of her (1 drawing i did in style, a picrew i edited, the original picrew, and the link) (also two older drawings of when i first her, plus a bonus mikey of when she was with him)(oh, and some extra stuff with height charts. note i did these late at night so please don't mind the mistakes in spelling or forgetting to label things right) Also i kept messing up on the drawing so please have mercy qwq

Pbelt Witchsona｜Picrew

June (2003): The Material Girl

Full name: June Splinterdottir

Ah 2003, the year i popped out. obviously i hold this series is very close seeing as we grew up together. so when it comes to lore and development for June this version has the most meat on it's bone.

For 03 June, the turtles actually found her abandoned in an old decaying lab left there to rot and slowly die. that was until they saved her, she grew up with them seeing as she didn't have a home or family of her own. and slowly through the years she got closer to Donatello, seeing as he was the smartest of the family and she is a super charged weapon. until they ended up confessing and soon dating.

April and Casey help teach her about more humans things with Casey taking on an older brother like figure in her life and April acting as more of a teacher.

for her more robot form i though something more interesting would fit her, so her more robot form is/will be based on the xenomorphs from Alien (because i thought it would fit 2003's more gritter look)

for her drawings i actually have a good few, but she has changed through my development of her, there are a few drawings i wanna redraw and change to fit her current lore

the first few drawings are her in the lab, 1 with edits and 1 unedited, Mikey finding her (again pre-kissing donnie era), and her taking a nap while they drive her to the base, a drawing of her in the 2003 style (did my best), plus a picrew edited and unedited /w link, and some height charts.

Faelions Avatar Creator｜Picrew

June (2012): The Baby

Full Name: June Lyn

2012, the baby, the lil guys, and the one i've thought of most second to 2003. she is the youngest i think of all of the variations. now her lore is similar to 2003 except instead of being left to rot, she caused a black out in the lab she was held in and managed to escape making a fake identity for herself so now he's lived a bit in fear they'll find her and force her back.

This june in lore was made less as a weapon and more as a tool, she is power source that is greater then the sun. so she was used to power things in the lab, but she isn't defenseless as she can assimilate organic and non organic matter into her body (i.e: if she grabs a gun she can use it to make her arm a bigger gun)

when it comes to her robot form, i've decided (with the help of my friend) that i wanna use My life as a teenage robot for inspo, She also kisses mikey as i feel like he really needs someone who's on the same page as him. like they are so mean to him he is just a lil guy, he needs a hug hella bad

when it comes to art, i actually don't have too much i'm pleased with. since 2012 is 3D and i don't really wanna try my hand at 3d modelling, so trying to draw in style is not really an option so if i drew her i'll just do it in my own style. what i do have is a picrew of what i'd imagine she'd look like older and the height charts

Girl Maker｜Picrew

June (Rise): The Working Girl

Full Name: June Harper-Lyn

Rise, the series i did hella dirty and feel so bad for missing but i'm making up my crime.

now this June is a bit more unique as she actually has parents, her Father is a micro scientist and micro biologist, and her mom is a big yokai dragon (She's a kaiju, because godzilla is cool) So this June is half robot, half human and half yokai, she works with her parents in the diner they own called the "Dragon bite diner" with her mom being the main cook and her dad running as mechanic of the building. the diner itself is suppose to be an place for humans, yokais and mutant to feel safe and have a nice home cooked style meal, they cater to a variety of tastes and it's a conflicted free zone (It's helps when the owner is a huge dragon)

her robot form is more simple, as it's just a more dragon style robot, and of course she is with Raph. big man needs his kisses too, plus he just needs a break from being the eldest sibling and get cuddled up with.

sadly, i don't know what picrew i used to make her. and trust me i looked through 100 pages on picrew, so if anyone could find it that would be nice as i'm a little worried it may have been deleted. i also have a drawing of her in style plus some more simple cute doodles of her and Raph being sweet. she is the most non human looking of the bunch.

another thing just for my oc in general is that i wanted her to be like besties with another brother, since i didn't want her to be Soley around her bf. i want her to be like a legit character and not just 'girlfriend' if that makes sense.

so for 1987 who is with Leo i thought it would be cute if she was besties with Mikey, ya know oldest sibling getting along with youngest (rare i know, but still)

for 2003 she's friends with Leo, since i imagine she has a lot of stress with 1, being left abandoned, 2, knowing she was only made as a weapon and 3. her boyfriend is too busy being a nerd to cuddle. plus he's the eldest so she looks up to him

for 2012, i imagine she's friends with Raph. main reason so he would stop picking on Mikey so much, two because he would love being a bad influence on her and they'd be menaces together

and finally Rise, for her i've decided Donnie. one because he's the last and two because this June's dad is a super smart scientist and because this June is more open to the fact she's not human. so them talking tech and analytics sounds nice

but yeah, that's my oc. i love her and i love the tmnt so much, if anyone wants to know more about her feel free to ask because my brain is absolutely buzzing about tmnt and i don't wanna bother my friends about it

to those who took they're time actually reading my nonsense, thank you!!!

[plagueislost]

Hii, for the artist ask game: number 4 and 10 is something I'd love to know :3

i wrote A LOT for this ask, sorry! i wanted to do the questions justice, yknow how it is.

4. piece you wish got more love?

Ive found from experience that original art tends to not do very well on social media, which kind of makes me sad. It's not much of a problem for me (because most of the stuff i post is fanart anyways) but i can't help but think that part of the reason i rarely ever draw original pieces or make OCs is because of the lack of feedback i get on social media. I know tumblr is supposed to be the fandom website, and maybe id have a different experience on another site, but it is disappointing when i post something original that I'm very proud of and it barely manages to get more than 20 notes, whereas something i like less easily surpasses 100 just because of the tags i put on it. i think the most recent example of this is this piece, which admittedly did get quite a few notes for an original piece, but definitely would have gotten more had it been fanart of the same caliber. this is also not to blame anyone or make anyone feel bad about not reblogging original art (god knows im guilty of that too, and art piggybacking off the popularity of other works of art are of course gonna get more notes), its just something ive noticed from my time on social media.

10. how do you deal with artblock?

i dont get art block very often, but when i do, its ANNOYING. it mostly manifests in me having a bunch of motivation for a part of my process that i cant get to without doing the stuff i have no desire to do (does that make any sense?). like, ill have a strong urge to render an artwork, but no ongoing WIPs that are at that stage, meaning i would have to sketch and color and shade a whole new piece before i could satiate that urge, or do the steps out of order which could mess up the flow and end look of a project. when i get like this, i find its best to try and translate those desires into different activities and take a step away from art. for example:

if i want to sketch, but nothing comes out right digitally, ill find a scrap piece of paper and a crappy pen and make thumbnails until i cant think of any other iterations of the ideas in my head. if one of them turns out good, ill take a picture and transfer it into my software, but only go over it a day or so later so i can have fresh eyes.

if i want to color, but i have no sketches currently ready for coloring, ill go into my photo editing program, find some random old photos that i never edited, and post-process them until i get something im happy with.

if i want to shade, but have no colored artworks ready for that, ill usually do a study of a photo ive taken, because most of the time me shading is really me wanting to see how light and shadow interact in certain scenarios. i actually did a whole AP portfolio on that because i liked shading and lighting so much!

if i want to render, but ive got no pieces ready for rendering, i find its easiest just to find a tedious activity where i can be a perfectionist but also feel like im the smartest person in the world. this generally turns into me cooking some big meal because its constantly engaging but also not that difficult. i know its probably weird for it to not have anything to do with art but this is just what works best for me, and i get the bonus of a nice meal at the end of it!

if i get the more classic kind of art block where everything sucks and nothing i make is good, i find its best to go back to the media that inspires me to make art, and not worry too much about having made something by the end of it. generally the media that inspires me ends up, well, inspiring me, and i can remind myself that art is a voluntary practice that i do because its fun, not because i want something out of it. if it doesnt manage to inspire me, thats okay, i can just tell myself im taking a break and live life for a bit.

i hope that was helpful, and i really enjoyed answering these questions! if anyone else wants to ask a question, the artist ask game is here.

[irismono]

Aight, waffles are yet to materialize so I'm gonna get my project list outlined.

In order of priority/how ready I am to work on them:

The Redwall Retrospective

Basically I'm rereading the series at roughly 1 book a week, and vlogging it on my mostly-dormant YouTube channel. I'll do a Jenny Nicholson style multi-hour video at the end. Currently working on Mariel of Redwall. Will get a link up to the logs for the first three books.

Red Fraction

My take on the "Pyrrha Lives" (Stomp Stomp) style of fix-it-fic. Got some fun ideas for it. Basically got Pyrrha's consciousness split into pieces across several characters, with the ultimate goal being recombining them all. See the opening for Black Lagoon if you want a sneak peek at chapter titles.

RWBY Modern AU (No solid name as of yet)

Man I love AUs, AUs are cool. And I've got some fun ideas for this one. Ruby and Jaune married for tax reasons? Got it. Coco Adel, the wholesome Yuri manga addict? Check. Gauntlets and Greaves? Hell yes, I read some baller GnG fics last year and I've been hooked ever since. There's other stuff too, but I've had trouble figuring out a main plotline, which is why I have...

Old Masters

This is a side story (or perhaps pre-sequel?) for my Modern AU, and one that has a defined plot line. The last generation's megahit pop duo was "Young Masters", made up of Ozma "Ozzy" Calavera and (The Pseudonymous) "Salem". The two had a fairly consistent will-they, won't-they subplot in their music and stage performances, until it came out pretty publicly that "they did", and the act (and relationship) broke up in a rather messy fashion.

Now some (insert number) years later, Salem has a grown up daughter, Oz is still trying to get his solo career off the ground, and neither of them are really happy. They meet by chance, and eventually (though with much pain) reconcile. Don't know all the details yet, but leaning towards a secret romance between Oscar (Ozma's Nephew) and Salem's daughter (either Emerald or Ciel, undecided) being part of it.

To aru Isekai no Tabibito (A certain otherworldly traveller)

It struck me one day that Semblances are rather close to ESPer abilities when it gets down to it. Thus, a RWBY x Toaruverse crossover feels pretty natural, at least to me. My thought: RWBY (and probably JNPR) find themselves dropped into Academy City with minimal equipment and have to figure out their way around.

The Bard for Advanced Systems

Don't know how big Advanced (as in 1st edition) Dungeons and Dragons is on Tumblr, but I take a great deal of issue with 1e's handling of the Bard. I can expand on why in another post if anybody's interested. TBFAS would be an essay and class write up of my idealized Bard Class, probably looking most similar to the 1e Monk in design style. I've got some ideas, I just need to set them in motion.

RWBY x Pokemon Special

More "nifty idea" than anything else. Pokemon Adventures was my first Manga, and I'd like to cross it over with RWBY at some point, probably by dropping RWBY characters in as trainers/Dex Holders. Could even do a full swap, but I'm less sure on that point.

As you may have gathered from the above, I have a penchant for RWBY fanfiction. This is because it is a world I have grown comfortable in, and the fandom I first explored fanfiction within. I haven't actually seen Volume 8, and am not planning to watch volume 9, and really I think things have been going downhill somewhat since... Well actually the show was always a bit of a mess if I'm being honest.

That all said, the world is great, and the characters, as interpreted by FNDM, are also pretty great, and rife with opportunities for cool storytelling.

What's that? Surely I'm forgetting something? Are half a dozen projects I want to work on not enough?

Okay fine, I've got some original works as well, but waffles are just about ready so I'll share those in another post.

[the-story-of-how-we-died]

Fixing Unity's Animation System

Idk if there's a big game dev community on tumblr or not, but I want to talk about this, so I'm gonna lol

The problem with Unity's animation system becomes obvious as soon as you try to do anything more complicated than "idle, walk, run, jump". Trying to add attacks or more complicated form of transitions becomes absolute hell. And no small part of this I attribute to the fact that it's a state machine.

(I think state machines are shoe-horned into game development anyhow, but that's a topic for another post)

So, I went out to create a new system that better fit my needs. I managed to categorize nearly all of my animations into three separate groups: cross fades, snaps, and cinematics.

Cross fades are animations that play continuously under some kind of condition, like idling, walking, running, falling, swimming, etc. etc. The important part of cross fades is that they don't have a predetermined end (ie. they're meant to seamlessly loop).

Snap animations are animations that do have a predetermined end, like attacks, dodges, emotes, etc.

Cinematics are, well, cinematics. I was mainly thinking cut scenes, but there's probably other uses for them as well.

And what about animations that don't fit perfectly into one of these groups? Well, I added support for specialized behaviors as well. I'm not certain exactly what these would do, but I made an abstract class these scripts can derive from with an `ExecuteSpecializedBehavior()` function to be called. (I think it's better to build in support for these kinds of things right now, even if I can't see a use for them.) this also isn't, like, an asset. I'll provide the scripts, but I'm not, like, claiming to own the code or the process or anything like that lol (or offering support for bugs). feel free to use/modify it however you want.

(This got waaaay longer than I intended it to, so I'm going to put the rest under a keep reading)

This `ChangeAnimation()` function is at the core of the entire system:

I had originally wrote out exactly what each of the variables not defined in the function did, but I think it'd be easier to just share them in a photo

Some things to note: It'd be possible to get rid of 'defaultClip' with something like 'animations[0]', but I didn't want to force myself to remember that the first thing in the list needed to be the default animation (as well, it prevents things from getting messed up if the order of the list somehow changes).

'AnimationName' and 'TransitionType' (which I've renamed to 'AnimationType' in the script, I'm just too lazy to retake the screenshot. I'll refer to it here as 'TransitionType' for clarity) are (clearly, probably) enums. I realize that an enum isn't the best type for 'AnimationName', but I felt that the ease of writing 'AnimationName.Idle' in a script was worth the extra effort of adding each animation to the enum.

I partially blame this on Unity, as there is (as far as I know), no way to play an animation via script except with it's name (which is a string, ofc). I thought of several ways I could've implement this, including consts or a static class, but I felt like an enum had the fewest downsides relative to its upsides (consts would require a reference to a class, and a static class would've been more annoying to implement inside the `AnimationWrapper` class)

I could've coded something that would've handled it better, but this seemed like the easiest way that's also fairly robust and is supported by default inside Unity.

'OnSnapAnimationEnd' is called via Unity's built-in animation event system. I tried really hard to make it so I didn't have to use it because I find it absolutely awful (supplying an function name by a string?!). But, unfortunately, Unity's way of adding them by via code is broken (because of course it is), so the workaround I came up with was to create one function that is called via the event which invokes another event that is far easier to subscribe to. (Plus, some extra functionality for the snap animations, which I covered above.)

The 'AnimationWrapper' class supplies both information about the animation (the actual clip, it's AnimationName, and its TransitionType), clip functionality (cross fade times and offsets), as well as a field to supply custom behaviors.

I don't know why it's low res, but oh well

And that's most of it. There are two extra functions ('OverrideCurrentAnimationSnap' and 'OverrideCurrentAnimationCrossfade') that I didn't supply photos of, but that's because I feel like just mentioning them clearly conveys their purpose. I plan on adding one for cinematics, as well, but since that part of the system isn't finished, I didn't see a purpose in adding it.

Normally I don't share my code because I don't feel like I've done anything innovative, but with this, I think it's good. It's not the most robust of animation systems, but it supports my needs and - imao - is so. much. easier. to use than Unity's built-in system.

Letting each script handle calling the animations they need is so much easier than getting a reference to the animator, getting a reference to a parameter, setting it up inside the script, setting it up inside the animation editor, defining all the transition, etc. etc.'Letting each script handle calling the animations they need is so much easier than getting a reference to the animator, getting a reference to a parameter, setting it up inside the script, setting it up inside the animation editor, defining all the transition, etc. etc.

Anyhow, even if this is just me shouting into the void, it made me happy to talk about it, so /shrug

Link to script

[mamuzzy]

I try to answer with all my ability ^^

When you first create a blog on tumblr, that is your Main Blog. With your main blog, you can interact with people, follow their blogs and like their content. But you can reblog from main and from sideblogs too! When you like (<3) a post or follow someone, people will see your main blog in their notifications.

Some people like to keep things tidy and make separate blog for each interests and fandoms, like one for Star Wars, one for anime stuff inspiration blogs etc, but it's not necessary! My main blog is full of Star Wars, Genshin, memes and various mental health topics, so the mains are usually a chaotic mess of interests unless you have something specific in your mind. Because I go for my own enjoyment and not for follower count (i have to remind myself for that often :D), I don't keep things in particular order.

But if maintaining a Fi-core blog is something like doing online roleplaying, it's advisable to do a side-blog for that, lot of people do it, it's easier to keep it in character and the tagging too! The downside of side-blogs that you can't send asks from side-blogs, only from main. So if your Fi blog will be your main or sideblog, it is up to your preferences.

For eg.: my main used to be my art blog but I wanted to make sure people follow me for my own art. Easier to search back my own posts and communicate with people who are actually interested in my stuff!

Posts should be tagged relevant tags so more people can find them searching through tags! But you already got that right in your Fi posts!!! ^^ That's how I saw your post on my dash, because I follow the republic commando tag. You can block tags if something makes you uncomfortable and block blogs too.

Also sometimes tags are used for commenting too like "APSIAOIFHODFHSODFH FI IS SO SWEET I'M GONNA GET DIABETES" so don't hesitate to keysmash when you especially like something or have additional thoughts. Like this:

New people often find it confusing but reposting and reblogging are not the same! In tumblr culture...

Repost means: You download a picture from someone else and upload it again, making it a new post. Which is not acceptable without proper credits and permission to the original poster. It's basicly stealing.

Reblog means: When you reblog a post, it will make it appear on your blog! And when someone reblogs from you, it's visible on their blog! It's basicly the sharing function when you love a content and you want it on your blog without stealing a post!

Now REBLOGS are greatly encouraged because that's how you give visibility to the content people create! So if you see a fanart or fic, or whatever post you like, you hit that reblog button. With the like button you can show your appreciation too, but it doesn't share. Still, I encourage you to reblog if you like something! Especially great if you want to support a creator by giving them visibility and interactions are actually more fun with it! You can also leave comments under posts! (works both main and side blogs).

If your ask gox is active, people can send you ask messages (like I did first). Asks are not visible until you make it visible by answering and by answering, you make it into a new post! It's a great tool to generally interacting with people, asking questions to blogs, asking about their blorbos and OCs or just simply expressing appreciation.

(I hope my little tutorial made sense and wasn't rude, english is not my first language!)

Also anyone who sees this post, feel free to add more if I missed something! ^^

Hey! Just wanted to say that I checked your art station and your art is wonderful <3 I'm in repcomm-hell right now, so I especially enjoyed those with Kal and the baby nulls! And Fi being cheeky with Ordo.

Have a nice day! °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

Thank you very much! ^^ That warms my heart a lot! I decided to join tumblr because I saw there was an active community for RC. I started the Fi-Core facebook page almost 4 months ago and I very loved the interaction with other ''cores''. But facebook is a weird jungle and I want to reach more of the RC niche fandom. Fanarts without the fans is a very lonely experience. I will publish already existing material I did here till I'm getting up to date on both platforms. I plan to do more Fanarts, jokes and fanfictions about RC and clones in general. :D (PLUS enjoying other people artwork, of course!)

[prince-les]

crying my EYES out. /pos

another quotev user?? real?? not clickbait??? have i finally found my people :( /pos

LMAOO THERE'S ANOTHER ONE!!! Yes I use Quotev. I remember back then when I was about to upload my first fic where I ask my writer friend group about where to upload my writings, the choices were either here, Quotev, or Ao3. And well, I ended up doing it in Quotev and kept going lol.

Answering more asks below:

Lmao I think I already did a few times in previous posts before, but I'll slap it here again anyway (might make a navigation or something because my blog is an absolute mess rn with the number of fandom)

https://www.quotev.com/PrinceLes

——

It IS awesome! When you found someone who have interest just as much as you it became 1000% more awesome. But if they're not part of it, they're joining in this journey whether they like to or not. Side glances at my Sky viewer who got dragged into Pokemon and my Pokemon viewer who got dragged into Sky.

——

Thank you <33 honestly comforting words like this about my English is really appreciated. I'm not really the best of tools in the shed but dear God it does take me like hours to actually remember that one phrase ™ that matches a specific scene.

——

Lmaoo welcome back!!! You're one of many that had sent a message to me about returning to Sky and I am absolutely ecstatic whenever someone informed me so :).

It doesn't actually decrease in Eden, at least, not yet for me? I think the rate in which you lose your wing light based on how much you have *currently*. So if you have above 120, perhaps around 150ish, it's more likely that you'll lose more each tick.

——

They would absolutely be fine no matter how high it is. It *would* be a problem if this were to happen like two years ago tho lol because fall damage was a thing back then. God the amount of time I've bonked my head against trees and walls and losing lights over it.. . But it's fine now! You can hit walls as much as you'd like and fall from whatever height, Sky kid will be a ok.

——

Yes. YYEESSSSSS. I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH BUT A SEASON WITH *LORE* AND NEW GAME MECHANIC???? I am, I am vibrating in the lore.

——

He could! Most definitely. I have a thought in my Subway in the Sky au about one of the Nimbasa trio giving Sei a voice recorder for when he wants to rant about his theory but everyone's too busy to be there for him at times. (I feel like Ingo would most likely be the one who give it to Sei. Probably his own, the one he have been carrying since he was small). I just think it might be sweet.

But in the topic or podcast, what sort of voice do you think Sei would have? :)

[nim-lock]

Art Career Tips, 2021 Edition

Here’s an edited version of my 2019 answered ask, because... this feels relevant. 

It is a problem of capitalism that folks equate their income as a judgement of their value as people; and let me preface. You are worth so much. You have inherent value in this world. Your income is not a judgement on who you are (plenty of billionaires are actively making the world worse). LARPing self-confidence will go a long way to helping you get paid more for your work, because clients will believe that you know what you are doing, and are a professional. 

& real quick—my own background is that I’ve been living off my art since 2018. I went to art school (Pratt Institute). I work in a publishing/educational materials sphere, and a quarter of my income is my shop. Not all of this information may apply to you, so it is up to you to look through everything with a critical eye, and spot pick what is relevant. 

So there are multiple ways of getting income as an artist; 

Working freelance or full-time on projects

Selling your stuff on a shop

Licensing (charging other companies to use your designs)

This post primarily covers the freelance part; if you’re interested in the other bits there is absolutely info out there on the internet. 

IF you are just starting (skip to next section if not applicable) dream big, draw often (practice helps you get better/more efficient), do your best to take "a bad piece” lightly. You’re gonna RNG this shit. At some point your rate of “good” works will get higher. Watch tutorial videos & read books. A base understanding of “the rules”; anatomy, perspective, composition, color helps you know what the rules are to break them. This adds sophistication to your work. One way you can learn this stuff is by doing “studies”—you’re picking apart things from life, or things other people have done, to see what works, and how it works. 

Trying to turn your interests into a viable career means that you are now a SMALL BUSINESS; it really helps to learn some basic marketing, graphic design, figure out how to write polite customer service emails; etc. You can learn some of this by looking it up, or taking skillshare (not sponsored) classes by qualified folks. Eventually some people may get agents to take care of this for them—however, I do recommend y’all get a basic understanding of what it takes to do it on your own, just so you can know if your agent is doing a good job. 

Making sure your portfolio fits the work you want to get

Here is a beginner portfolio post. 

Research the field you’d like to get into. The amount people work, the time commitment, the process of making the thing, the companies & people who work for them. 

Create work that could fit in to the industry you’re breaking into. For example, if you want to do book cover illustration, you draw a bunch of mockup book covers, that can either be stuff you make up, or redesigns of existing books. If you’re not 100% sure what sort of work is needed for the industry, loop back into the portfolios of artists in a similar line of work as whatever you’re interested in, and analyze the things they have in common. If something looks to be a common project (like a sequence of action images for storyboard artists), then it’s probably something useful for the job. 

CLIENTS HIRE BASED ON HOW WELL THEY THINK YOUR WORK FITS WHAT THEY WANT. If they’re hiring for picture books, they’re gonna want to see picture book art in your portfolio, otherwise they may not want to risk hiring you. Doesn’t have to be 100% the project, but stuff similar enough. If you aren’t hired, it doesn’t mean your work is bad, it just wasn’t the right fit for that specific client. 

If you have many interests, make a different section of your portfolio for each!

Making sure you’re relevant 

Have a social media that’s a little more public-facing, and follow people in the career field you’re interested in. Fellow artists, art directors, editors, social media managers; whoever. Post on your own schedule. 

Interact with their posts every so often, in a non-creepy way. 

If you’ve made any contacts, great! Email these artists, art directors, editors, former professors, etc occasional updates on your work to stay in touch AND make sure that they think about you every so often.

Show up to general art events every once in a while! If you keep showing up to ones in your area (when... not dying from a sneeze is a thing), folks will eventually start to remember you. 

Industry events & conferences can be pricey, so attend/save up for what makes sense for you. Industry meetups are important for networking in person! In addition to meeting people with hiring power, you also connect with your peers in the community. Always bring a portfolio & hand out business cards like candy. 

Active job hunting

Apply to job postings online.

If interested in working with specific people at specific companies, you could send an email “I’d love to work with you, here’s my portfolio/relevant experience”, even if they aren’t actively looking for new hires. Be concise, and include a link to your work AND attached images so the person reading the email can get a quick preview before clicking for more. 

Twitter job postings can be pretty underpaid! Get a copy of the Graphic Artists’ Guild Handbook Pricing & Ethical Guidelines to know your rate. I once had a twitter post job listing email me back saying that other illustrators were charging less, and I quote, “primarily because they’re less experienced and looking for their first commission”. This was not okay! For reference, this was a 64-illustration book. The industry rate of a children’s book (~36 pages) is $10k+, and this company’s budget was apparently $1k. For all of it. 

Congrats you got a job! Now what?

Ask for like, 10% more than they initially offer and see if they say yes. If they do, great! If not, and the price is still OK, great! Often company budgets are slightly higher than they first tell you, and if you get this extra secret money, all the better for you. 

Make sure you sign a contract and the terms aren’t terrible (re: GO GET THE  Graphic Artists’ Guild Handbook Pricing & Ethical Guidelines) 

Be pleasant and easy to work with (Think ‘do no harm but take no shit’)

Communicate with them as much as needed! If something’s going to be late, tell them as soon as you know so they aren’t left wondering or worse, reaching out to ask what’s up. 

And if all goes well, they’ll contact you about more jobs down the line, or refer you to other folks who may need an artist, etc. 

Quick note about online shops/licensing and why they’re so good

It’s work that you do once, that you continuously make money off of. Different products do well in different situations (conventions vs. online, and then further, based on how you market/the specific groups you are marketing to), so products that may not do well initially may get a surge later on. 

Start with things that have low minimum order quantity and are relatively cheap to produce, like prints and stickers. 

If you are not breaking even, go back to some of the earlier portions of this and think about how you could tweak things as a small business. Ease of access is also very important with this; for example, if you only take orders through direct messages, that immediately shuts off all customers who don’t like talking to strangers. 

Quick resource that you could look through; it’s the spreadsheet of project organizing that I made a while back 

Licensing is when people pay you for the right to use your work on stuff they need to make, like textbooks or greeting cards. This is generally work you’ve already made that they are paying the right to use for a specified time or limited run of products. This is great because you’ve already done the work. I am not the expert on this. Go find someone else’s info.

“I am not physically capable of working much”/ “I need to pay the bills”

Guess who got a hand injury Sept 2020 that messed me up that entire month! I had a couple jobs going at the time that I was terrified of losing, but they were quite understanding when I told them I needed to heal. So:  Express your needs as early as you know you need them. Also do lots of stretches and rest your hands whenever you feel anything off; this will save your health later. Like, the potential of a couple months of no income was preferable over losing use of my hands for the rest of my life.

This continues to apply if you have any other life situation. Ask for extra time. Ask for clarification. If you tell people ahead of time, folks are often quite understanding. Know how much you are capable of working and do your best not to overdo it. (I am.. bad at this)

Do what MAKES SENSE for your situation. If doing art currently earns you less money than organizing spreadsheets, then do that for now, and whenever you have the energy, break down some of the tips above into actionable tiny chunks, and slowly work at em. 

The original ask I got in 2019 mentioned ‘knowing you’re not good enough yet’. Most artists experience imposter syndrome & self-doubt—the important thing is to do your best, and if anything, attempt to channel the confidence of a mediocre white man. If he can apply to this job/charge hella money for Not Much, then so can you! 

Check out this Art Director tumblr for more advice!

Danichuatico’s Literary Agent guide

Kikidoodle’s Shop Shipping Tutorial

Best of luck!

–

Once again disclaimer this post is just the ramblings of a man procrastinating on other things that need to be done. I’ve Long Posted my own post so that it turns into mush in my brain if I try to read it, but I wrote this so I should know this content. If you got down here, congrats. Here’s a shrimp drawing.

Yee Ha. 

My reference post tag My tip jar

[sukiglycerin]

13 minutes || katsuki bakugou.

* pairing: pro-hero (therefore aged up)!katsuki bakugou x fem manager!reader

* genre: pro-hero!au, smut, this is the longest warning section i’ve ever written, mainly pwp, fluff at the end :>

* words: 2,266 of all this fiLTH

* warnings: AGED UP KATSUKI, ugh tumblr deleted my super long tags so now i must redo them, this is very long & filthy, whew let's go, dom!katsuki, sub!reader, semi-public sex, exhibitionism, slight voyeurism, office sex, reader is bent over the desk ofc, master/sir kink, a little pet play (he calls reader pet/kitten), dirty talk, degradation, fingering, breast/nipple play, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, orgasm denial (how contradicting), cunnilingus (f receiving), cum eating (both ends), talks of safeword/colour system but no actual usage, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (pls use protection irl!!), creampie, reader is kinda masochistic, pussy slapping, crying sex (no angst here tho), hair-pulling (m receiving if it matters), implied subspace, aftercare !! the best part !!

* a/n: so tumblr messed up sO much while i tried to post this, so i hope you like this! ty @toishi for sticking with me and all of my ramblings while writing this! (and ofc @dylanxmin for her lovely support!!) this is a VERY spicy thing, and almost had actual plot before i cut it out. if you like this, i may do a fluffier pt 2!! enjoy!

being a pro-hero's manager has its perks. the pay's good, the coworkers are pleasant, and travelling is pretty fun. to you, the best part is that you get to see your boyfriend of three years every day.

you've been dating pro-hero ground zero secretly, and you happen to be his manager. honestly, the latter came first in chronological order, but that doesn't matter anyway.

you first encountered ground zero (or as he was called back then, katsuki bakugou) during your time in the business course at ua. he bumped into you quite ungracefully, cursed at you, pushed past you, then let a startled but apologetic kirishima to apologize. it was fate, in kirishima's words. 

such fate led you to manage ground zero five years ago, after slowly climbing your way up from managing smaller heroes to finally reaching the popular ones. bakugou had been the only popular hero with a manager opening; you learned why soon after being hired.

the spiky haired hero had a short fuse and a tendency to cuss. he was picky, indecent, and often reckless with his public image; the calmest you'd ever seen him was when he blew up villains and screaming "die."

however, things change - things change a lot. five years later, you're here: katsuki mumbling sweet things into the crook of your neck as his hands tease the waistband of your pencil skirt.

"katsuki, we can't- you have a meeting in fift- hng-!"

his lips find yours quickly, effectively quieting you down. you're sitting on katsuki's desk - a polished cherry wood thing that took too many weeks to find - as he towers above you, pinning you to your spot.

katsuki pauses, and pulls back, licking his lips. "sounds like a you problem."

"we really can't, this meeting is really important-" bakugou's fingers nimbly find their way under your skirt, deadly close to your panties. he really isn’t paying attention to you.

"and i'm the star of the show, the number one pro-hero-" if he hears you mutter 'that's midoriya,' he ignores you and continues, "-aren't i the most important one here?" his fingers rub your clothed clit, smirking at your audible gasp.

"k-katsuki, no-" you know he can feel the wet patch growing on your panties; from the way his determined eyes lock on yours, you know he won't be finished until you are too.

"how long do we have now, love?”

"thirteen minutes, but-"

"you're going to cum for me three times in the thirteen minutes we have."

it's not a question; it's a fact. you are going to cum three times in the next fifteen minutes.

“once on my fingers,” he puts a finger up, “once on my tongue,” another finger, “and once on my cock. the only thing you have to worry your pretty head about-“ he leans in close to your ear, voice dropping a couple octaves, “-is keeping quiet enough.”

his fingers push your panties to the side with ease and play teasingly with your wet folds. he circles your clit with his middle finger slowly, dragging out each languid movement with a smirk on his face. you flush at the lewd, wet noises he elicits from your pussy. you know that his fingers are coated in your arousal.

you look down in embarrassment, gripping the edge of the desk, and stare at the cotton material of your pencil skirt.

"slut." the word is spat from katsuki's mouth. his hand holds your chin; his touch barely ghosts your skin, but the command still exudes dominance. he tips his hand up, so you're looking into his intense eyes.

"look at me, slut." the word is emphasized by the plunging of three fingers in your wet core. you whine, unprepared by the sudden intrusion. your legs move uncomfortably against the fabric of your skirt, which restricts you from spreading open your legs wider. you want to clamp down on katsuki's hand, but you know that that won't end well.

"patience, kitten." either by intuition or his own frustration, he speaks up gruffly. "all in due time." his thumb starts to knead your aching bud as he thrusts in and out, knuckle deep in your pussy. glancing at the clock, he grows impatient, quickly attempting to unbutton your blouse before ripping off the rest entirely. you'd normally protest - you liked that blouse - but you find yourself falling short of words at the pressure on your pussy. katsuki goes at a more rigorous pace, thrusting fast and deep while his free hand snakes itself under your bra to play with your nipple. the added stimulation has you keening to his touch, suddenly aware of his every touch. he pulls your bra cup down, freeing your breast and bending down to to encapsulate the hardened bud in his mouth. his tongue circles your areola and flicks your nipple; meanwhile, his pace on your pussy hasn't relented. 

soon, you feel the telltale feelings of pleasure bubbling through your body.  you tense against him, gasping out his name and clawing at his back. your knees buckle as your climax washes over you, making your body go limp in his hand. bakugou lets go of your nipple with a popping noise, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. his other hand pulls out, and he outstretches three cum-soaked fingers to you, an unspoken code for "suck." you open your mouth obediently, sucking your salty juices off his slim digits. 

"fuck," he cusses, eyes blown out wide in lust. "so fuckin' obedient for me, hm? such a fuckin' whore for your master."

you let go of the fingers in your mouth and nod. 

his non-wet fingers grip the bottom of your skirt. "off. now." 

"yes, master." you feel his eyes pierce you, watching you unzip your skirt and panties and let them pool around your legs. he holds you steady as you step out of the garments and toss them to the side. 

"sit up." he taps the desk lightly.

"it'll get w-w-" 

"did i stutter?"

"n-no, master."

he hums while you acquaint your bottom with the cold, hard wood of his desk.

"colour system, love?" his voice gets soft and he breaks the hard persona. his eyes are gentle, searching yours for any speck nervousness or hesitancy.

"green for 'i'm good, keep going,' yellow for 'slow down,' and red for 'stop.'"

"and if you can't speak?"

"three taps for red, two for yellow."

"what's your colour right now?"

"green, master."

his face hardens at the title. "always a good pet for me, aren't you?"

you nod. "yessir."

he spares another glance at the clock on the wall. "you're going to be a fucking good slut for master in the next 7 minutes, understand?"

"y-yessir."

"what was that, pet?"

"yessir."

"better be. spread." his fingers gesture to your legs.

he kneels before you, your drenched core spread out and on display for him at eye-level.

"so wet," he marvels, making your face heat up. like this, you're completely exposed to him; your breasts free from your bra, nipples hard against the cool air, and your pussy glistening under the light of his office.

he licks a long stripe up your folds, testing the waters. by now, the original intensity of your previous orgasm had worn off; despite this, when his tongue met your clit, you found yourself reaching for his hair, gripping it tightly. he groans into your pussy, poking his appendage through your folds and administrating kitten licks up and down your inner lips to slurp up whatever juices were left. the teasing doesn't last for long, however. he starts to suck harshly on your clit, making you buck into his face in overstimulation and surprise. you cry out at his unceasing ministrations, tugging on his hair and your toes curling. the overstimulation is too much; pain mixed with white hot pleasure blinds you. the lips closed against your clit go hard; you're not even sure how katsuki can breathe going at such a pace. the pain starts to blend into pure pleasure. you throw your arm over your mouth in attempt to stifle your noises, eyes shut tight. you feel tears line your eyes as you cum again, katsuki's tongue pressed flat against your pussy. the pleasure is five times more intense now; you cry out, sure anyone standing outside heard, and clutch katsuki's hair as you recover from your orgasm. your pussy convulses violently, and you pant in a similar manner.

"k-katsuki- master- i-" you breathe hard.

"one more for me, okay?" he rasps into your ear. "i know you can take it, kitten. so good for me..." his chin and lips shine with your essence.

you nod, spreading your sore legs further apart.

"colour?" he checks, hands starting to reach for his belt.

"green."

he nods and unbuckles, pulling his pants and boxers down to reveal his cock. katsuki leans in, hot breath fanning against you as he peppers kisses on your clavicle.

"you're gonna be a good cocksleeve for master, yeah? gonna be all fuckin' tight and wet for me?"

you whimper a shaky "yes," the head of his cock nudging your folds.

he eases his full length into you, the stretch always being something you always need to get used to. katsuki's not particularly girthy, but for what he lacks in girth he makes up in sheer length. he pushes in gently; it's clear on his face he wants nothing more than to ravage you, but he understands your needs.

"f-fuck," you gasps as he bottoms out. 

"ring ring ring," the tone of katsuki's phone rings through the room.

you lean over the desk, reading the caller id.

"it's horikoshi corp?" you say to katsuki.

"pick it up." there's a mischievous gleam in his eyes, but there's no time to dwell on it before you pick up the call.

"is this the office of ground zero?" a male voice asks through the line.

"yessir-" katsuki starts moving inside you, to which you bite your lip. "h-how can i help you?"

"this is regarding the meeting scheduled for today?"

"y-yes?" you gasp, flinging a hand over your mouth as bakugou starts thrusting into your core roughly.

"i'm terribly sorry to say this, but it appears that our boss has come down with food poisoning from lunch."

"don't- don't worry about it-" your knuckles are white gripping the edge of the desk, and you're slightly bent over it.

katsuki continues to hammer into you, speed increasing quickly.

"could we reschedule to friday, at 1:30pm?"

your mind skims through katsuki's friday schedule. "u-um... y-yes-! that can be arranged..." you're not sure if he can hear the wet slapping noises coming from your end of the line - but the thought of him knowing your dirty deeds with katsuki made you even wetter.

"alright, thank you!" the man sounds relieved. "goodbye."

"bye!" you half slam the phone down on the receiver, chest heaving.

"it's your lucky day, huh, kitten?" katsuki purrs smoothly. 

you nod, pressing yourself onto his desk so you're bent over it for him.

"such a fucking slut," you can hear the pride in his voice. "you like that, yeah? i can feel you clenching all around me. you're my fuckin' cockslut, right?"

your head bobs rapidly up and down. "yes, master- i'm-" you feel the familiar heat start to bubble in the pit of your stomach.

"don't you dare fucking cum yet," he growls in your ear, punctuating his words with a sharp thrust.

he presses you even harder into the desk, your breasts pushed up against the cold wood. 

"k-katsuki...!”

"my little pain slut, isn't that right?" 

"y-yes-! f-fuck, master-" 

he slaps your clit, making a loud, wet sound resound through the room.

it almost sends you over the edge. almost.

"don't- cum-" katsuki grunts in between thrusts.

you're so close it almost hurts. the pleasure overwhelms you; you shut your eyes tight to distract yourself, but you can only hear the sound of katsuki's heavy breaths and his cock slamming into you.

"katsuki- master- please, i can't-" tears start to form in the corners of your eyes. the pleasure is just too much, beating into you incessantly.

"you can, and you will," he orders, voice firm.

"k-ka- ka-" you blubber, tears dropping from your cheeks. you know you won't be able to hold it much longer; your pussy aches in need of release. "pl- pl, ka-"

"cum." it was the only word you needed to find yourself toppling off the edge, euphoria rippling over you violently.  tears stream down your cheeks, cum gushing from your heat. you're as limp as a doll in katsuki's arms, slumped against his desk. your pussy throbs, contracting violently - somewhere amidst your orgasm, katsuki had finished as well. your cheeks are wet, blouse thrown somewhere on the ground. your breathing is shaky as katsuki picks you up, stroking your hair delicately.

"hey, honey," he kisses your forehead softly.

you mumble incoherently, eyes drooping shut.

"you did so well for me... i didn't hurt you, did i?"

"no, 'suki.... 's good.... i liked it a lot..." you nuzzle into him, his body warmth comforting. katsuki smells of vanilla and caramel, a sweet combination that feels undeniably like home. 

you don't remember many of the next events well; everything blurs into a haze. you feel him gently thumbing your tears away, slipping your skirt and panties on and buttoning up one of his extra dress shirts on you.

the last thing you hear is a gentle "i love you," and before you know it, you're drifting asleep.

[littlemisspascal]

The Last Mandalorian

Chapter One: The Warrior in Carbonite Part 2

Fandom: The Mandalorian / Pedro Pascal

Eventual Pairing: Din x Togruta!Female!Reader

Word Count: 3,400

Rating: G

Summary: A series that is a mixture of Mandalorian, Star Wars, ATLA, and my own imagination. The Imps have seized control of the majority of the galaxy, including your homeworld Shili. You and your sister Ahsoka have developed a daily routine despite the stormtroopers keeping your village imprisoned. One morning you make a startling discovery that will change the course of your lives forever.

Warnings: plot plot plot, mild descriptions of violence, worldbuilding, dialogue heavy, sloooooooooooooow burn – seriously, we’re just getting started so it’s gonna be a bit before feelings are involved, reader is 17 and Din is 19 so I’m going to warn this as underage even though nothing sexual or even vaguely romantic happens in this chapter.

Author Note: The plan right now is for there to be 3 parts of Chapter 1. Tumblr isn’t doing a good job notifying my taglist, so I apologize if I bother anyone reblogging this a few times trying to get it to work. Thank you everyone out there for each like, comment, ask and reblog! The support means the world to me 🥰

Part 1 Part 3

Cross-posted on AO3

The village is a small community with less than a hundred citizens living there total, yet it is visible from miles away due to the bright paints used to decorate the houses. Murals depicting the village’s history and its residents adorn every house with details added by each new generation so that no one is ever forgotten. Back when visitors would pass through, they would always compliment the village’s beauty, but there is nothing beautiful at all about the electric fence the Imps erected shortly after seizing control, emitting shocks harsh enough to kill.

Originally the stormtroopers said it was to protect the village from threats, but nobody believed the lie. The only threat to the community was the Empire. They don’t bother making up excuses anymore, now they like to remind everyone the whole village is their prisoner, usually by a show of violence so unbelievably malicious it stuns everyone into compliance.

There are some horrors time will never erase from your mind.

Juni trees grow beside the fence outside the perimeter, the only species of tree amongst the shrubbery and turu-grass, and they are tall enough for their thick orange branches to extend over the uppermost wire. In the mornings, Ahsoka climbs out your bedroom window, slides down the sloped roof of the house and leaps onto a nearby branch. You follow after her, trusting that she won’t let you fall when you stretch out your hand for her to catch you and lift you up using a bit of Force to give you a boost. The two of you sneak back inside the village using the same tree, only instead of leaping at the house, you drop the short fall onto the ground beneath. Five years and the stormtroopers haven’t caught onto your trick yet. 

Except now the tree isn’t an option. Not when you both are half-carrying, half-dragging two-hundred pounds of flesh and metal. 

Hiding behind a clump of coyal bushes, you and Ahsoka scout the entrance booth where a pair of stormtroopers dressed in their characteristic white armor stand guard, holding blaster rifles. There are others on patrol, walking along the fence and checking its integrity, gradually stepping further and further out of view, but they will be back eventually. Your window of opportunity is limited. 

You adjust the warrior’s arm over your shoulders, quietly groaning when your muscles protest the heaviness. “What are we going to do? Stormies might share one brain cell, but they’re definitely going to notice this heap of metal we’re carrying. And as soon as they find out we don’t have passes, they’re going to start shooting.”

Passes are only given to a handful of the community’s traders each week. It is a three day ride on a repulsorlift speeder to the capital where they have a short span of time to sell their goods and then return home within the week with essential supplies. To ensure no one tries to run away, the Imps set up strict rules. If the traders are late, even if only by a few minutes or due to reasons outside their control, the rest of the villagers pay the price. Usually the punishment is a public beating, but sometimes the stormtroopers get creative and tie their chosen victims to a pole overnight by their head-tails. 

Nobody, not even the younglings, sleep those nights.

“We’ll be fine,” Ahsoka answers, firm and confident, gaze fixed upon the gate. “Just follow my lead. I’ve got an idea.”

She doesn’t spare you a second to protest, stepping out into the open and forcing you to follow or else drop the warrior’s body. 

The stormtroopers spot the three of you immediately, relaxed postures stiffening with alarm, and you have to remind yourself over and over to breathe, to not let them see any hint of the anxiety buzzing beneath your skin.

“Hold it right there!” One of the stormtroopers orders when the distance between you and them has shortened to a mere three feet. You freeze at once, heart pounding as fast as a thimiar’s seconds away from being eaten. A quick glance at Ahsoka reveals no fear in her expression. She stares at them indifferently, as if she is about to talk about the weather. 

“Explain yourselves.” It is not a request.

You squirm, nearly knocking your head against the warrior’s bowed head, on the verge of losing your composure, when you notice Ahsoka lifting her arm.

“You will let us pass,” she says, adopting a suggestive tone while waving her hand in front of their visors.

They respond in unison, seemingly entranced. “We will let you pass.”

You bite your lip as you and Ahsoka pass between the stormtroopers and through the gate, not wanting to break the spell by letting loose the barrage of questions forming on your tongue. What your sister had done was as amazing as it was frightening. She had manipulated them with such confident ease you are certain this isn’t the first time she has performed the trick on someone. 

“When did Aunt Shaak teach you that?” 

“She didn’t,” Ahsoka replies lowly, casting a quick glance around. “I taught myself.”

Your skin prickles as you also become aware of the increasing number of eyes staring at you. With the sun fully awake and bringing morning light with it, several villagers are carrying on with their daily routines outside of their homes. Most of them seem a mixture of confused and concerned about the stranger, but you spy the Elders looking displeased by the new addition amongst their ranks. 

You are not looking forward to being inevitably summoned and interrogated by them.

“How?” you ask, copying her hushed cadence. Then, a pulse of panic blooms in your chest. “Have you ever—?”

“No, I haven’t messed with your mind before. Never even considered it,” Ahsoka interrupts, sensing your worries. “I don’t practice often, but when I do it’s just harmless little suggestions. Like convincing Huno to give the younglings an extra sugar biscuit when he has some to spare or persuading Jaelee to go to bed early when I know she’s been overworking herself. To tell you the truth, I wasn’t really sure the trick would work on those bucket heads since I’ve never tried it on two minds at once before. Lucky us, right?”

You nearly trip over your own feet. “What?”

Is she being serious right now? They would be dead right now if her gamble hadn’t paid off.

Ahsoka pretends not to hear you, nodding her head towards the blue-painted house up ahead. “C’mon, Maar probably already knows we’re coming.”

Maar Vashee has been the village’s healer for a little over fifty years. The purple-skinned Togruta helped deliver you and Ahsoka, and was considered by your mother when she was still living to be a dear friend. Her connection to the Force is especially sensitive due to her intricate relationship with the flora of the planet, using various herbs and plants to create remedies, and as such she developed a type of sixth sense where she instinctively knows when her skills are needed.

Entering her home that doubles as her clinic, you find Maar had indeed anticipated your arrival and set up a cot to place the warrior upon. Once he is laid down, you roll your aching shoulders, biting back a wince as the movement irritates the headache lingering at the back of your head. 

The warrior hadn’t made one noise the entirety of the trip bringing him here. Even now as he rests on the cot, his breaths are so quiet you would fear he wasn’t breathing at all if not for his chest moving. You touch his hand impulsively, laying yours over his gloved one. There is no response, not a twitch or spasm.

A sharp gasp of surprise has you whirling around, eyes landing upon Maar standing in the doorway between the clinic and her living quarters. She clutches a glass jar of spotted red herbs labeled nysillin against her chest, staring at the warrior like she is looking at a ghost. 

“Maar,” Ahsoka calls out softly, coming to stand by your side. A long moment of silence passes before the older Togruta manages to drag her gaze away to focus on you and Ahsoka, green eyes a bit too wide-eyed and haunted. Your sister’s gentle tone remains when she inquires, “What’s wrong? Do you...do you know him?”

Maar chokes out a brittle noise sounding like a cross between a dry laugh and a derisive scoff. “Personally? No.” She moves closer to the cot, the white circular markings around her eyes softening with what you confusingly identify as sympathy. “I’ve heard stories of his kind though. Years ago, many considered the Mandalorians the only ones capable of defeating the Imperials.”

“Holy frak,” you gasp before you can stop yourself.

As a youngling, your mother used to tell you stories about the fiercest fighters in the galaxy known as Mandalorians. They lived on Mandalore and had a special connection with their weapons, a bond nobody else could understand or mimic, trained to handle guns and knives as soon as they could walk. They defended the galaxy from unlawful rulers and the threat of enslavement, unafraid to spill blood when they knew peace would follow. Your mother told you they never lost a battle. Defeat was a word unknown to them.

At least until—

“Mandalorians were wiped out during the Decimation of Alderaan,” Ahsoka interrupts your thoughts, voice pitched high with disbelief. “And the few who lived were hunted down shortly after. The Imps made sure there weren’t any left to challenge them.”

As if triggered, you recall a detail from your brain glitch, a thought that had crossed your mind when you were flying through the storm. You had been looking for Aldera, the capital of Alderaan. 

It’s just a coincidence, you think. But a voice in the back of your head that sounds suspiciously like your Aunt Shaak counters, there are no coincidences. 

And as much as you loathe admitting it, that voice is right. Having the image of a mudhorn slip into your brain shortly before you find a warrior—no, a karking Mandalorian of all people—with the same creature on his armor? It is too precise to be a coincidence. Your paths were meant to cross each other.

If only you had the slightest clue as to why.

Maar sets the jar down on a nearby table, then picks up the Mandalorian’s wrist to check his pulse. “That is what we all thought,” she agrees after a minute of counting has passed, dropping his hand. “His armor is characteristic of their kind. Nothing in the galaxy is as strong or valuable as their beskar. Let’s pray to Ai our beliefs about the Mandalorians’ extinction are mistaken,” she nods towards the unconscious warrior, “especially for his sake.”

Realization creates a sickening pit in your stomach. 

Regardless of the status of his kind, when he wakes up his whole world is going to be flipped upside down.

__

Three hours later, not much has changed except the room is brighter, afternoon sunlight pouring in through the window, and smells sweet due to the bowl of herbs Maar left simmering on the table near the Mandalorian’s head, explaining the aroma will cure him of his hibernation sickness as he breathes it in.

“He’ll wake up when the marg sabls open tomorrow,” Maar told you with a gesture towards the potted red-and-pink flowers in the windowsill. They grow all over Shili, popular because they open their petals in a sunburst shape every morning. 

Ahsoka comes and goes, blessedly not criticizing your decision to sit at the warrior’s bedside when you have a list of chores to complete—doubled now that you lost your bet with Ahsoka earlier. She intercepts curious younglings hoping to sneak a glimpse of the Mandalorian whose presence has become known throughout the village. Nothing stays a secret long in the community. Gossip spreads as quickly as colds and takes twice as long to get over. 

If the stormtroopers catch on, the consequences will be disastrous. For once, Ahsoka shares your fears, admitting she isn’t capable of tricking a whole platoon. 

“The Elders aren’t happy,” Ahsoka says in-between sips of bone broth. “They think it’s too dangerous having him here.”

You swallow your mouthful, shaking your head. “I think it’s the opposite.”

“What do you mean?”

Averting your gaze towards your lap, you scratch at an imaginary stain on your leggings. “Just a feeling I have.”

Ahsoka leans forward in her seat, pointing an accusing finger at you, causing your head to jerk back up. “The Force connected with you again, didn’t it? I knew you were acting weird before we found him.” She frowns, hurt flickering in her eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I never wanted to be special, Ahsoka,” you reply honestly. “I never wished or prayed to have visions, to have these random details pop into my head, to feel others’ emotions so strongly it’s like I’m trapped inside their bodies. There is nothing cool or entertaining about it. It’s…” Your voice cracks embarrassingly, forcing you to take a pause. You inhale a shaky breath. “It’s terrifying.”

“I had no idea you were struggling so much,” your sister murmurs, voice soft with contrition.

“How could you when I didn’t even want myself to acknowledge that I was?” you counter, feeling as if a weight has been lifted from your shoulders as the truth sinks in. “I tried to ignore it all as best as I could. If not for meeting our friend over here,” you tilt your head in the Mandalorian’s direction, “I’d probably still be in denial. But I can’t ignore the Force this time. Not when the message is this important.”

“What is it?”

“We were meant to find him. To bring him back with us. I think—I believe he’s important. Remember what Maar said? About how people used to believe Mandalorians would beat the Empire?”

Ahsoka’s brow furrows incredulously. “You really think one warrior can defeat Emperor Gideon’s army? The rebels have been trying for years and the Emperor is always one step ahead.”

You can’t help deflating a bit, shoulders slumping. “Well when you put it like that…”

“Have you considered an alternative reason why he’s important?” she asks. When you don’t answer right away, she takes it as a cue to continue, “Maybe you’re right and he is going to change the galaxy for the better. But he could also be a warning. The Imps wiped out his kind, what if they plan to do the same to us?”

Your lips part to respond, only to close again wordlessly. You thought by accepting your brain glitches as messages from the Force they would become clearer, easier to understand. A lantern guiding you through this maze of darkness epitomizing your life.

But you have never felt more lost.

__

Falling asleep is a mistake. 

You didn’t know this when you rejected Maar’s suggestion to head home and sleep in your comfortable bed instead of curling up on her spare cot that squeaks whenever you move. The prideful side of you believed it was best if you were the first face the Mandalorian saw when he woke up because he would remember you and the promise you swore. He would trust you to explain everything to him.

Within a second of waking up, you realize how naive you were to think you had even a shred of influence over him. 

The sound of something shattering has you nearly tumbling off the side of the cot, jerking awake with a sudden burst of fear. You blink rapidly to clear the haziness of sleep from your vision, struggling to make sense of what you are seeing.

Pieces of Maar’s ceramic bowl litter the floor along with bits of charcoal and ash. Ahsoka and the Mandalorian stand on opposite sides of the room, staring each other down, poised to fight. The Mandalorian has a vibroblade clenched in his hand, while your sister crouches low, fists raised. You know Ahsoka can hold her own in a fight, even without the advantage of a weapon, but fear winds its way down your spine, cold and slimy, when you can’t help but notice how small she looks compared to him. Not only because he is a few inches taller, but because he also exudes an undeniable aura of intimidation: his unwavering silence, the skilled manner he wields his knife, even the sharp gleam of his beskar pieces reflecting the pale morning light has your chest tightening with dread.

The clinic’s lights flick on right as Maar announces her presence by cocking a blaster pistol. It is the Mandalorian’s own weapon, removed from his holster when Maar examined him earlier. “Alright,” she says to the room at large as she fully enters, dressed in her sleeping robe. “Let’s all settle down. Blood isn’t an easy stain to clean and I’d prefer it if none was spilt.”

You see the moment the Mandalorian decides to comply, shoulders loosening beneath the pauldrons and stance shifting from defensive to neutral, as he processes he doesn’t need to fight his way out of here. The vibroblade is sheathed within his right boot in one fluid motion and it is startling, truly, how quick he transforms from a dangerous threat to a potentially dangerous threat. 

Ahsoka is reluctant to yield, staring him up and down for a drawn out moment that does little to soothe your frayed nerves. Only when Maar pointedly clears her throat does your sister finally obey, straightening to full height with a hand propped on her hip, the picture perfect image of nonchalance. In another life she would have made a fantastic actress in a holovid drama.

“That’s better.” Maar nods, satisfied. “Now why don’t we—”

The Mandalorian moves so quickly that you jerk in anticipation of attack, eyes widening to the size of moons as you watch the pistol fly out of Maar’s hand and straight into his outstretched one. Your lungs seize up, a single thought flashing through your mind. This is it, the moment we all die. 

Except instead of shooting, he re-engages the safety mechanism and promptly holsters the gun at his side where it belonged. Without saying anything.

Ahsoka’s slack-jawed expression would have been comical if it hadn’t matched your own stunned face. Even Maar, who has witnessed over fifty years worth of shocking spectacles, looks awed by the unexpected display. 

You recover first, somehow managing to piece together the right words to ask a coherent question. “Are you a Jedi?”

It is only because you are staring directly at him that you notice the virtually imperceptible tilting of his head. “I’m a Mandalorian,” he answers bluntly, oblivious to how your heart skips a beat. “Weapons are part of my religion. It’s important to earn their trust.” He addresses Maar then, adding, “Especially if they’re stolen from us.”

His baritone voice has changed from when he spoke on the ship. Without the exhaustion wrapped around his vocal chords you are able to hear his normal timbre. Due to the modulator in his helmet, it has a husky quality, an intriguing mix of smoke and honey. But that is not what has your montrals prickling and your spine straightening. 

“I disarm all my patients,” Maar replies, back to being her cool, calm, and collected self. “I would have given it back—”

“How old are you?” 

You don’t realize you have spoken until two pairs of eyes and an expressionless visor look at you. 

The Mandalorian’s fingers curl and uncurl at his sides once, twice. “Nineteen,” he answers after a few seconds of lapsing silence.

“Oh Ai,” Maar murmurs, vocalizing your own thoughts.

All this time you have been thinking of the Mandalorian as a man beneath the amor. A hardened and seasoned fighter who has seen a lifetime of bloodshed and violence. But the reality is he is only two years older than you. Standing right on that thin, blurry line between being seen as a teenager and being considered an adult. 

“Who are you?” the Mandalorian asks, glancing first at you then your sister and back to Maar. Frustration and wariness blend together, sharpening his voice. “Why am I here? What happened?”

Ahsoka meets your eye with a question in her gaze, one you don’t have the answer for: where do we even begin?

Series Taglist: @pedro4ever​

Permanent Taglist: @promiscuoussatan @vintagesaph @sylphene @over300books @chibi-yuki @theocatkov @oh-no-a-whovian @absurdthirst​ @freeshavocadoooo @you-and-i-deserve-the-world @lin-djarin​ @happiestsparkleofall @randomness501 @gallowsjoker​ @coaaster @captain-jebi @leilei-draws @disgruntledspacedad​ @melobee @stilllivindue2spite @pointy-sharp @artsymaddie @waywardmando @thisshipwillsail316 @mylifeofcalculatedchaos @grogusmum @asta-lily  @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives @sherala007​ @mejswho​ @uncle-kenobi​​

[anasticep]

Why Julie and the Phantoms is a masterpiece of a show. Part 2. Heroes and Villains or Let that foil shine

NOTE: Thanks again for your kind response to Part 1. I never expected that. It being my first tumblr post and a first meta in quite a long time I was blown away. I read all the tags, some were really hilarious. About having more than one brain cell xDDD I laughed so hard. It means a lot.

NOTE2: Please remember that the gifs are made by me, so don't crop, edit or give as yours.

Part 1.

Before diving into meta, I have to mention that the Villain of the story is actually one of the best in the decade. He’s cool, evil from the start, we understand his motives and we certainly are not supposed to love and make excuses for him. The writers made sure of that. So back to the main topic.

A foil is a character who contrasts with another character; typically, a character who contrasts with the protagonist, in order to better highlight or differentiate certain qualities of the protagonist

Foils in literature are not necessarily antagonists. A friend can be a foil or sometimes even a thing, a song. Whatever can make a good and real contrast to the protagonist. But it’s not very simple to use this author’s device and not fall down a deep hole. Because you have to make sure you did just the right amount of work to make it understandable for a reader, the things you want to contrast are definitely there and still you don't waste a character. On TV it can be even harder given limited air time. And, well, I don’t come across this device being used in full very often nowadays. It’s usually good and evil fighting for the plot. That’s why I personally appreciate JaTP so much.

Caleb is clearly a foil to Luke. As much as I’d love to say that Julie also has one, that’s not entirely true, at least not this season. Carrie is not her foil though it may seem so, and I really think that’s cool as Julie’s journey is being presented through her own demons and I'm going to cover that next. That being said, of course Caleb doubles as an antagonist plotwise, but I personally consider him being written more as a contract to Luke so we could see and appreciate his character and journey better.

1. Origins

Caleb and Luke have extremely similar backgrounds. They are both natural performers. They know how to deliver, because c’mon, “Now or Never” is something and so is “The other side of Hollywood”. Stage is their natural habitat, their element, power. Although they channel this power from completely different places.

Let’s start with our little ball of energy. It’s emphasized TWICE that he doesn’t care about the money aka the physical side of art.

All Luke wants is to make music. Connect with people. He is so happy just to be heard despite him loving to perform. Making music is what makes him feel alive and basically that’s enough. I think if there was no “hologram” magic at all, Luke would have still been extremely happy to make music with and for Julie. Because that’s the way he is.

But Caleb doesn’t know that. He knows, and I’m standing by that, right away that Luke is the one to aim at. Because we always feel the similarity in people. If Luke said yes, Reggie and Alex would have followed. So Caleb recognizes the passion and shoots at them what he thinks is appealing. And, oh boy, he delivers.

“The Other Side of Hollywood” is a perfect song to emphasize Luke and Caleb being foils for each other. Follow me here:

But these lines come from very different places. For Caleb the only thing that matters is himself. He owns the show, he IS the show. It’s about being famous, drowning in applause, admiration. Look at how he performs. Confident, yes, but still very much in control. He must keep his perfect face. No flaws, no real emotions, no real connection (Did you miss ME? I did too // This band is back). Whereas Luke is simply living the best time of his life each time he performs. Is it just jamming? Bring it on. Doing fun riffs? He’s all for it. He doesn’t care how he looks (though who could deny gorgeous sweaty Luke), he owns the show just because he is a natural.

So back to the business. Caleb immediately puts the boys in his own shoes:

On the other side we live like kings // Your soulprint on the walk of fame on the boulevard of your wildest dreams // I got your glamour, got your gold, got all you’ll ever need

And, I mean, he is not that wrong. You can see the appeal on the boys’ faces. They are young, passionate, handsome, talented musicians. Of course they wouldn’t deny fame. Of course they would want all that to some extent. And Caleb is very sure he pulled the right strings.

Watch me make a move, I’m your number one choice

Also I have to mention, as we are talking about TOSOH (IKEA name again) and it being a foil for Luke, thy lyrics still don’t forget about what is important for Reggie and Alex (we’ll talk about that just a bit later):

Welcome to the brotherhood -> Reggie

Where you won’t be misunderstood -> Alex

Then again, lots of foreshadowing in the song, if you listen carefully the lyrics are stressing the true colors of the offer:

A tomb with a view

Man, what a metaphor. I would have run out of there the minute I heard this line. But our boys share one brain cell (I can’t get over how funny this is) and it’s currently taken by Julie, so I don’t blame them.

Disappointment is huge. Caleb read it all wrong. So we are moving to the next point in our Heroes and Villains essay.

2. Recruitment

It’s very cool that Caleb offers the boys to join his band right after Luke offers Julie to join Sunset Curve. They both are going out of their ways to get that (although have different budgets apparently. But look, they live in a garage). Luke made a hit with a bunch of Julie’s not very well structured lines (I love Flying Solo with all my heart as a song, but as a poem it just looks weird to me) to impress her, and we all saw the show Caleb had thrown to impress the boys. Plus food. And fancy dancing. But here is where contrast comes again.

Caleb offers to join the band, yes, but only as backup singers. It’s his show, remember? It’s only about him. He doesn’t care if they are even good. He wants their magic under control.

Share the spotlight with ME / How do you like MY new band?!

Luke offering Julie a spot in the band is a completely different story. He saw what she is capable of. He instantly knows she must be the key to a new sound, a new level. And he, a natural performer, frontman, lead guitarist, steps back and gives the spotlight to Julie. To think about it, he could have just got her magic under control by giving her simple lines, incorporating piano in the songs and that’s all. They would be visible, he would still be a center of attention, and Julie herself wouldn't mind that much. But that’s not who Luke is. Yes, there is a funny scene of “Hey, I’m your lead singer” and “you don’t have to be mean”, but it’s just messing around. Because right after that he finishes Flying Solo, writes several other songs with Julie, seeks her approval of Sunset Curve songs and basically follows her around like an adorable excited puppy.

Moving on and back to the rejection. Again the writers are mirroring them. Julie quits the band & the boys decline the offer. What does Luke do? Well, he tries the way he knows: books a gig, makes Reggie and Alex sing in perfect harmonies and does his puppy eyes thing. And it doesn’t work. And Luke goes to reflect and then probably try to come up with a plan. But something tells me he would not have haunted Julie until she joined them.

What does Caleb do after the initial rejection? Puts a cursed stamp that leaves them no choice but to join HGC. You don’t need to say more.

But in fact the more I think about it, the more I suspect Caleb also not possessing enough mental capacity for a human being. Like, if it wasn’t for Willie, how would they even know? Has Caleb planned to simply show up one day and casually explain? Look, foils in everything.

“You’re in a tough spot… So, you wanna join the band?” | “Looked like it hurt… you know where to find me”

But we sidestepped a bit.

3. Pulling the strings

After the song Caleb comes out to consolidate his success. What he does is clever and, btw, that’s the only time he becomes Julie’s foil. They are stating basically the same thing.

Again, Julie is concerned about the band and the boys, while Caleb is only concerned about having them under control. But they both are pulling basically the right strings.

What is interesting, Caleb actually impressed the wrong person (and that person is our sweet Reggie). Luke follows the string Julie pulled. Although the offer is tempting, he insists twice that they are in a band already directly to Caleb and then in Eats&Beats he says "It's like Julie said, we have a new band, a new sound». No matter what Caleb promised, Luke is not affected at all although Caleb’s offer is a very-very safe choice.

Speaking about using friends as foils, Alex and Reggie also serve as contrast characters for Luke at some points. Luke’s indifference to money is first stressed through Alex who is clearly the chief accountant for the band. His lines about not getting tips, living in a garage and «it’s a little bit about the money» are waved aside by Luke. Reggie is clearly the most affected by the whole Bobbie thing. His lines «I don’t care what Julie said, I’m glad we scared Bobbie», «So we’re gonna forget about getting back at Trevor?» are getting a clear contrast by Luke’s «It’s what Julie said, we have a new band, a new sound» and «He has to live with that guilt».

While editing the article I realised a very cool thing I haven't noticed before. How badly Luke wants to go on tour. And again that's another thing Caleb offers as if reading his mind. That's actually brilliant, to think about it.

Caleb is a VERY good reader. He tests the waters with a speech about disappearing from stage and going around the world and all dreams coming true. Still he doesn’t know the boys and especially Luke, so his phrase “no real connection” doesn’t register that much.

But he learns. Remember the lines I’ve marked before?

Reggie is afraid they will not be together after they cross over. He is in desperate need of a family. So wouldn’t it be nice to spend the rest of your afterlife with your brothers? (Reggie's main insecurity is loneliness, feel of a broken family. That's why he is the most concerned about crossing over. Will his family stay intact?)

Alex is insecure, and not being understood by the people closest to him will always hit hard. So welcome to a place where you won’t be misunderstood. And actually we know there is a guy you like and find comfort in. (Alex's insecurity is growing up in times when he could not truly be himself even with his family and for sure not believing he would ever be able to find someone meant just for him)

That mirrors the whole Luke’s beach speech perfectly. Only comparing them we can truly appreciate why Luke is the leader. He shuts down his own demons to make Alex and Reggie remember that they are not alone (“and I believe in you”. sorry. Olicity fan).

Caleb makes them suffer to get what he wants. But this time he is careful with the words aimed at Luke. Yes, he repeats his words about vanishing and applauses BUT he makes sure that his words about CONNECTION are the key words for Luke. Intense look, calming voice, touching - these are all elements of hypnosis. And Luke is in a daze. (Continuing the parents' thing, for Luke the main insecurity is not managing to connect with his mom. Maybe that's such a big thing for him: through all these people he wanted to find that connection with her)

4. The Hero’s journey

That’s the best part actually but I won’t be saying anything new or that you don’t know. Luke is made of lyrics and music. That’s his soul, heart, that’s the feeling running through his veins. He doesn’t need anything other than that in his life. Playing for eternity is “a gift no musician would ever turn down”. But he actually does turn it down. As well as his dream to go see the world with his band (is there covid in jatp universe?). He is the one who resists the hardest to the pull. Luke, who always has a guitar in his hands, doesn't want to play. Because it’s not only about the music now. He has this amazing girl in his afterlife who was willing to accept them for who they were, helped Luke battle his own demons, eased his pain and made him open up. And it doesn’t make sense any longer without her anymore. “And you’re a part of me now till eternity”.

Caleb, being Luke’s foil, completely misses the whole point of connection. It’s not in his nature. His house band are just recruits (Just so happens you’re in luck we’ve got a vacancy). For Luke his band is his family (We are the only family we ever gonna need). The Connection theme is one of the main in the show. And it’s so cool to show it focused through Luke whose best way of interaction is a touch. But not being able to touch Julie Luke has to find other ways, although it’s not that simple for him. And Julie backs that up: We connect in so many other ways. They literally touched each other's souls. Without knowing she put a stamp of her own on Luke, Alex and Reggie. They’ve never felt loved enough, appreciated enough, supported enough. They’ve only had each other. And Julie’s stamp is love. And for Luke (as well as Reggie and Alex) from now on this girl is worth dying for all over again.

_______

So yeah. I hope you enjoyed it, as I for sure enjoyed writing. There is gonna be a part 3 about Julie and a few honorable mentions of parallels of the Pilot and the Finale (I hope at least to do all that). I’ve also figured very very cool connections in the songs and I can’t wait to share.

Also as I was heavily speaking about The Other side of Hollywood, @catty-words has a wonderful meta on rain metaphors here (sorry for tagging, if you don't want to be tagged), check it out if you somehow missed it. It's super clever.

[fatoujallovv]

fanfiction writer appreciation: skamverse edition

thank you @yasminaselamrani for starting this lil tag 🥺 i read and write elu so that’s what you’re in for here but i’m sending a kiss on the forehead to any writer or reader of anything for being the best 🥺💛

if you’re a writer:

a fic that you’re really proud of:

i know i’m sitting here while i haven’t even finished the fic but close to you just makes me really happy 🥺 it’s obviously not oscar winning movie adaptation worthy in the slightest but i think it’s turned out to be a really fun story and i’ve enjoyed writing it and messing around with social media 🤪

a fic that you were nervous to post:

my lil mental health oneshots rotten work and not to me, not if it’s you (incredibly original titles i know skfjfj) were literally . an excuse for a cathartic feelings dump via my emotional support projection character monsieur lucas lallemant and i felt like i was being to dramatic or insensitive or portraying things badly (even though it was literally my own experiences adskljg idk don’t ask what i was thinking) or being too personal so i was kind of nervous 🥺 but i got a lovely response and being able to share them was really healing for me so i’m so glad i did it 🥺

a fic you wished got more hits/kudos/comments:

i’m super happy with every bit of response i’ve gotten from my writing 🥺 i love all of my comments so so much and all i want to use this space for is to say thank you guys for being the best 🥺

one of your favorite tropes to write:

i think it’s obvious that it’s childhood best friends because both of my chaptered fics have been that sjdjfjsj but i also love myself some fake dating hence my current best friends fake dating au akdjfj

another ship that you don’t write but you’d like to write:

i wish i could write kieutou but i struggle to relate to kieu my’s perspective to be able to write her from an honest and accurate place bc as much as i adore her she is so so different from me and i feel like i can’t get in her head 🤧🤧

one of your abandoned wip you never wrote but wish you did:

i only ever abandoned one thing and it was gonna be a long oneshot where they met in the laundry room of their dorm and then dumbassery ensued and it was gonna be very silly but then i forgot about it so akdjfj mayhaps i should return to her this summer if i have the time

another writer you would love to collaborate with:

@luxandobscurus @lucasotteli and i have literally. planned to collab before and just never made it happen .... besties let’s get on that summer 2021

i would LOVE to do some sort of sm au or something with a cool unique format with miss @vexedtonightmares the queen of sm and galaxy brain concepts!!!!! i would basically be dead weight but i would be like beyond honored to assist her in making magic with her big beautiful brain

if you’re a reader:

a fic (or more) that you love to reread:

i looooove rereading if i can recognize real by @tawmlinsun (i’m linking part two i think oops) i have said it before but it gives me butterflies every time it is the peeeeerfect lil first kiss/getting together fic omg omg

the reread value of all mixed up by @lucasotteli and online love by @vexedtonightmares !!!!! unmatched !!!!! social media au supremacy lichrally go tos when i need a Laff

tag an author you always love reading:

@clairdelalune i know ur movin away from the fandom queen so soz to bring u into this but everything you’ve ever written makes me happy 🥺🥺 ur style and vibes are so . good and heartwarming

@lumierelovers is just an absolutely gorgeous writer and everything she touches is magical 🥺

recommend a story to your followers:

i will recommend lots 😌 (vaguely in order of length from like 1k to like 100k+)

when you kill the lights (and kiss my eyes) by @blanxkey (zaira i frickin miss u pls write more pure poetry 🤧)

thoughts of you aren’t enough by cgsf on ao3 (i think they might be on tumblr but it didn’t let me tag 😔)

open your heart (and let me know you want me here) by @demaury

save us by @luxandobscurus

last dance by @vexedtonightmares (i linked the chap 2 post bc it has the ao3 link but 😌)

maybe it starts now by @lepetitepeach (first part of the series is linked on ao3 bc i don’t think there’s a ficpost)

tag an author you discovered recently:

@fireflysxx is kinda new to writing and i’m so proud of herrrrrr 🤧🤧🤧 i would like to direct your attention to the fic she wrote for me about eliott basically being grumpy lucas’s personal shopper for the day akdjdh: new style

spread the love!

tag someone who inspires you to write:

@yasminaselamrani you literally never stop like i am so impressed you just always have new stories to tell i admire that so much even if i don’t read wtfock i’m sorry 🤧🤧🤧

tag someone who you’ve admired forever:

i don’t want to bother people and i feel like many of the people i’ve had longstanding Big Admiration for i already tagged or isn’t really here anymore 🥺 so just like . everyone i’ve mentioned i admire so much? that’s cheating but idc

tag your writing support:

@luxandobscurus and @lucasotteli the only ones who care as much about elu in 2021 as me and i don’t feel guilty making them help me with my fics KAJDJDJD and @fireflysxx my biggest cheerleader and self proclaimed number one fan you’re always there wanting to see what i’ve made and it’s so encouraging 🥺💛 also @thenerd10 bc u always leave me the sweetest comments EVER and you literally singlehandedly make posting worth it 🤧🤧💛💓💗💓

ok i’m tagging everyone i mentioned 🥺 and i would tag more people but i haven’t seen a lot of my writer friends around in a while and i don’t want to be bothering anyone so please just do this if you see it and want to!!!

[everyothermouse]

A lil group portrait of the time au adventuring gang!! Them <333

Basically tol fucked up as a kid and is now on the run from the law, but realized that since his life was so crazy he could live off of telling stories of his wacky adventures. When he met Jay he wanted him to come with him, and when he found out jay couldn't come cus he was virtually a demon/god/magic magnet he decided he NEEDED to bring him to capitalize on how it'd make more cool stories. And yeah it worked so since then he's been collecting wackos to aaa go crazy aaaa go stupid (and also bcus safety I numbers or whateva, pop and pip are also criminals and pastel and jay are crimes against god <3) more about each individual under the cut!

Doin them from left to right :)

Pastel: died when she was messing around with some friends and got stuck under a big rock and left to starve. But because of a fluke in the underworld her God decided to resurrect her, a right usually only belonging to saints. Because of this she's now poorly pretending that she totally did something to deserve being revived (she tells a different story every time someone asks, she thinks it's funny) to avoid being persecuted for suspected witchcraft. She met Jay when they were both drunk and they had fun fucking around in the city, and she spilled the beans to him that she was revived for no reason. She regretted it, but jay didn't kill her because even though he's religious he knew what it felt like to be magically cursed and have everyone be pissed at u for it. Also she's really funny with jay so tol begged her to come with them to add more Comedy(tm) to his memoirs

Pop: a time traveller and angel who is trying to hide both of those facts but only really succeeding at hiding the time travel thing. When they were a kid they traveled to this time with his friends Lustre and Cherrybomb, but when they were attacked by the vicious royal guard they weren't able to escape without leaving Lustre behind. Cherrybomb super repressed that memory, and while pop recovered from some minor injuries they vowed to never time travel again. Yeah they only kept that up until they were like 15, but they still couldn't bring themself to go back to when they left Lustre. But now they're 26 (well technically they're like 33 but in their time their supposed to be 26) living with their boyfriend cherrybomb and have years of time travel experience under their belt, and they're ready to go back. Except they can't go back because they created a travel block for themself by accident because of how upsetting the event was, so instead they traveled as close as they could, about 10 years in the future of the time. Now they search for any form of closure, all they need to know is what happened to their friend, and they will do whatever it takes to find this out. But angels aren't super welcome in the past, especially not with uncut wings, so it's not exactly easy for them to navigate this time period. But after a while of their search they met two lovely children (well young adults), a demon and a "cursed" (nowadays they call em spiritually gifted) and felt so bad for how much the world seemed to be against them they decided they could travel with them, just for a bit, to protect them. They tried not to get attached. They failed. They're in it for the long run now aren't they TwT also as they explore this time and learn more about the gods, they start to realize that they might... be the God of longevity???? Or at least an older version of them became them? Time travel is fucked man

Btw Lustre plays a big role in this plot, her hyper futuristic knowledge, 'blessed' white eyes, and strange God gifted clothing would all lead to him rising to a much different role than fugitive rather quickly, but they're not who this post is about ;) also I'm gonna go bottom to top for the 3 in the middle let's go

Lune: just a little guy :) lune is a young rancher/gardener who worships the God of the wood, who kind of goes missing sometimes and is lowkey the least loyal God but shhhh he loves them. Lune and tol were childhood friends (along with their pal cleo) but on one of their little excursions tol took something very important to a very powerful king, and refused to give it back. As retribution the king destroyed their entire town, and cleo put all the blame on tol, tol and lune both knew lune had to take the side against tol in order to not have the town turn on him. So yeah he moved with the town to bring up a brand new farm, long awaiting the day when tol would come home and say that things were OK and they could settle back in town together, hopefully with cleo too. That didn't happen, but tol did come back and peer pressure lune into part time adventuring with him! So yeah generally lune just runs his lil farm and prays, but when tol comes to pick him up he gets a chance to go be free to act batshit crazy, just like when he was a kid 🥰

Pipes: DEmon! One time lune and tol had a little squabble so lune was like 'im gonna get a new best friend and ur gonna regret this' and tol was like 'yeah right, u live with a bunch of criminals right now no one's gonna wanna be ur bestie dumbass' so lune just walked into a cave at night and dragged out this little nonverbal demon because demons who live alone in caves don't have high standards for friends. Even tho it was just a ploy to make tol jealous lune went super hard on it and now pipes is actually friends with the gang lmaoo

Tol: like I said with lunes, stole something important from a king as a kid, monarch got pissed, blew up the town, town got pissed at tol for it, and since then he's been on the run because he's too stubborn to give back the damn thing (they could have just attacked HIM for it, but since la queen decided to fuck with his town, his family, tol thinks he doesn't deserve to have it back.) He had to run from town to town and got into a lot of danger in his attempts at finding places to hide, but he lacks fear and tended to fight stuff off. As a kid he found that he could get enough pity to be welcomed into towns if he told people he had to fight a monster to get there, so he told stories at every town and camp he went to of his hardships. But as he got older, those he stayed with beckoned him to keep talking, and more and more people said they had heard of his adventures. And that's when when it clicked, his shining ticket to true freedom wasn't a place, it was his stories. They gave him food, shelter, fun, memories, a life. So he made it his mission to never settle down, to make his life as crazy as possible and to talk about it as much as possible, and if he ever ran out of energy to adventure, he'd spend the rest of his dying days writing and writing his entire life story. He thought this was a life he'd live alone, but one day he sought refuge in jays little lonely house because he thought it was abonded, luckily though Jay had just been praying for a second chance at life and decided that considering the timing, tol must be that second chance. So yeah jay patched him up, found out on his monthly supply route he was harboring someone very wanted, and took care of tol even harder because he didn't know or care why he was wanted, he just knew that anyone who had a drawing of them as a child on a wanted poster definitely didn't deserve it. So yeah they're besties now.

AAA I wrote out a really long description for jay but tumblr glitched and I lost it :'O ble here's a shorter rewrite cus I'm not writing out that whole thing again >:P

Jay: brought up in a church village,, he was born with the curse, which allows him to tap into magical properties very easily, and be very easily controlled, manipulated, and possessed by them. This allowed him to be very connected with his god (the god of longevity) but also meant he was often treated as a security risk and a monster by the adults of his town since he could let in evil spirits so easily. He spent most of his time praying and he became obsessed with acting on compulsions (repeated prayer, overscrubbing, scratching himself, touching religious things until he felt like he touched them "right") because he believed they were messages from God and would prevent him from becoming evil (look he was a teenager and everyone told him he was a monster his whole life leave him be.) He gets possessed twice, mage as a rep of the town is like "either have ur cursed removed or leave town forever" (uncursing is only hypothetically possible, it's hella dangerous) and he's scared itd sever his connection to his god so he leaves and he's upset bcus his entire life plan was built around his church, so now he's livin alone on a hill and leaving like once a month, he stays up there and sews and prays mostly, he sort of works on himself and becomes vaguely mentally stable, so he prays for a second chance at life since he lost his original path and needs a sign where to go, and then boom tol shows up and the rest is history. Now he has his own little family and things are going great :) other than the still getting possessed like once a week but shhhh

Pip: in between the entrance to hell and the religious central of the continent is a little town that sides with neither. They mostly fuck around and find out, and in this town lives a monster researcher and her less formal wife, pip! Pip is just a silly goofy little guy livin life, and when the crazy bunch shows up she feels like he's finally found her people :3 and for the first time the group gains a member who's begging to join them as opposed to the other way around

Ya and together they all go on wacky lil adventures with demons and monsters and monarchs and what not.

Tldr pastel is a funny lil dead guy, pop is a time traveller and the Adult of the team, lunes a lil farmer man, pipes a hobo demon they picked up off the side of the road, tols a little criminal demon adventurer, jays a religious weirdo who tol dragged out of his hermit hut, and pips an insane little guy

[dcbbw]

Sixish Sunday and Update

Hello, Tumblr! Miss me? I know it’s been a (hot mess) minute since I have been around these parts and a lot has happened. (it’s all under the cut)

I quit my job in DC (and worked three full days AFTER my end date because apparently the 11 page spreadsheet, calendar of everything I was responsible for complete with internal deadlines and vendor deadlines and notes, as well as examples of all the things was not clear enough) and packed up my life and made the move to NC.

My cousins moved me because no way was I paying someone $3800 to haul my stuff 300 miles and renting a car. I ended up paying $1300 + meals for the move and got a ride to boot. All I’m gonna say is I got what I paid for; it was a two-seater panel truck and we put a metal folding chair between the seats. We looked like Bonnie, Clyde, and Curly coming down the road, and the passenger door didn’t close properly, so it randomly swung open at inopportune times.

But I made it one piece; my laptop was not as fortunate. It looks like a rusted out Chevy sitting on bricks at the moment but it saved my stuff and I can type, so YAY!

While I am excited about a fresh start here in the Tarheel State (new job starts Tuesday), I am sad to be away from my studio; I lived there for 17 years and swear it’s the home I (emotionally) grew up in. It’s where I rediscovered my love of writing and became family with a building full of strangers. But I am certain I will find that again here.

While I try to maneuver a huge chunk of my life into what used to be my brother’s bedroom, I have found time to jot down thoughts and ideas that will eventually become full-blown stories. I plan to work on Burnsy’s incredibly late birthday fic, answer some asks for SGL, Dramien, JGL, and a writer’s choice ask. I want to follow-up on so many of WIPs and to post my follower appreciation poll.

And on that note, I do have a little somethings to share for Six Sentence Sunday!

From Remixed: The Social Season, Chapter 3:

“I got a text message from Drake,” Bliam said as he tucked his crisp white shirt into silk black trousers. “He says House Beaumont has a sponsee.”

“Did he say which one?” Asiam asked eagerly as Whiam tried unsuccessfully to knot his necktie.

Bliam shook his head negatively. “When I asked, he said he needed a “what the fuck” emoji.”

Asiam looked at Whiam impatiently. “I could have tied this thing three times by now!”

“You had it wrapped around your waist saying it was your belt!” Whiam retorted, his eyes squinted in concentration. “I can get it, it’s just this is harder than it looks.”

“That’s what she said,” Asiam smirked.

“WHY are you like this?” Bliam complained.

“I’ll be happy to get some real food in me,” Whiam commented as he finally looped the cravat.

“I took the liberty of requesting prime rib and yearling potatoes.” Bliam pulled his arms through the sleeves of his tuxedo jacket.

Asiam frowned. “I ordered curried lamb with rice.”

Whiam sat on the edge of his bed, clumsily buttoning his shirt. “I asked for seafood pasta!”

Bliam rolled his eyes. “Can we EVER agree on anything?”

Whiam pulled on his socks. “Madeleine!”

Bliam nodded in agreement. “Amen to that, brother!”

Asiam said nothing, choosing to stare at the ceiling instead. Feeling two pairs of blue eyes staring at him, he gave a loud exhale. “WHAT?”

Whiam shook his head in disapproval. “You didn’t! Did you? I mean, she was engaged to … Leo!”

Asiam ran a comb through his raven locks. “All I’m going to say is the drapes and carpet match.”

 Original song lyrics for Love Grind from the next chapter of my Platinum/TRR crossover fic:

You workin’ so hard to bring home the bacon

Hustlin’ a grind, no time for lovemakin’

Giving your keyboard all your strokes

All your strokes

All your strokes

You ain’t kissing these lips

You ain’t grabbing these hips

Baby come home, let me clear your mind

Put this peach in your lap

And take you for a love grind

Bounce, roll, thrust, hold

Kiss, moan, scream, groan

Give me that eggplant, make me eat vegetarian

Then lay back so I can ride like an equestrian

Lemme give you that love grind

That love grind

Slap this ass, fill all my holes, make me say your name

Gimme that love grind

Bounce

That love grind

Moan

That love grind

Roll

Gimme all your strokes

Groan

All your strokes

Thrust

All your strokes

Fill all the holes

 Mr. Sonny’s Children, Original Work:

“Hello, Ma.”

There is silence for a few moments; my mother is caught unawares because I rarely answer her calls during the day. There is baggage between us, and demons who play messenger with us. I can’t deal with that when I am trying to heal and cure people.

I gave up on trying to save anyone a long time ago.

“Mabel?” Her voice is hesitant and laced with a warble.

I wonder if she is holding back tears or curses. My mother doesn’t hate me, but she is scared to love me.

I am a child of rape. To love me is to admit she is okay with the violent assault that conceived me. To acknowledge that I survived the rusty hanger and jagged forceps that tried to kill us both is to accept I was meant to be here, destined to be hers throughout all eternity.

Nothing good comes from an evil act.

“Hi, Ma.” I don’t bother to remind her I go by Ann now. She knows.

More silence, thick with tension and unspoken emotions.

I set the spoon back in the bowl and use my chopsticks to toy with a sushi roll instead. I idly roll one side in wasabi that is more pasty than creamy and dunk the other side in soy sauce. I speak into the phone pressed to my ear.

“Ma, I’m at work. Is everything okay?”

“Mr. Sonny died,” she exhales.

I set the chopsticks down carefully before blinking my eyes and staring out at the rain again. “When?”

“Last night. Lung cancer.”

I nod slowly. Mr. Sonny was notorious for consuming all types of tobacco products: he smoked cigarettes, cigars, and pipes. When he wasn’t smoking tobacco, he was chewing it. When he was younger, he was quite handsome: tall with dark, wavy hair and deep green eyes. He was a persuasive speaker with a raw confidence unheard of rural Mississippi, even for whites. That is how he became the Imperial Wizard of our county’s chapter of the KKK.

The last time I saw him was three years ago. He had shrunk, walking with a hunch in his back. His face was wizened and wrinkled; the pate of his head speckled with brown liver spots where hair no longer grew. The backs of his hands were wrinkled and knotted with bright blue veins, his fingers gnarled.

He looked at me as if I were shit on his shoe.

“Why are you telling me this?” I ask slowly. But I knew why.

Mr. Sonny was my father.

[xplrerdolan]

𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 [ 𝘌𝘛𝘏𝘈𝘕 𝘋𝘖𝘓𝘈𝘕 ]

⤬ SUMMARY: Your relationship with Ethan is a little complicated -- after meeting him at a bar and fucking him in what was meant to be a one-night stand, you can’t seem to get rid of him. The cocky asshole won’t leave you alone, and, if you’re being honest with yourself, you can’t leave him alone either. You hate him, detest him, can’t stand him -- but god does he know how to fuck you just right. You know this cycle can’t lead anywhere good… or, can it?

⤬ WARNINGS: lots of aggressive sex, lots of sex, sex, and some fluff to tie it all together

⤬ A/N: when i first posted this, i was returning from a 5-week hiatus that i had taken to finish up my semester. the original author’s note was, “i’m back >:)”, which i feel speaks to the significance of this piece. for a longer author’s note with a greater explanation, please click here.

⤬ WORD COUNT: 14.3k

© xplrer on Tumblr // asteriasyzygy on Wattpad - formerly known as aphroditedolan

❋ ❋ ❋

“So, what do you like to do for fun?” you asked, an optimistic smile upturned on your face, leaning in to force yourself to believe you were interested. Maybe if you acted out the body language, you could trick your brain into liking this guy.

Ricky, his name was. You repeated it in your head over and over, not wanting to awkwardly forget it. He looked sort of similar to his Tinder profile pictures, enough so that you couldn’t cry catfish. “I like hunting and fishing a lot,” Ricky said, and you bristled.

You tried not to show it, tried to salvage whatever was left of your chances of getting a good fuck out of your third Tinder date of the week, but jesus did you hate guys who hunted and fished. Whether you ate animals or not, it was such a weird and fucked up hobby. The fact that people saw hunting and fishing -- killing animals -- as a means of fun rather than survival rubbed you all the wrong ways. 

“What do you like about it?” you tried, as you had been all night.

“Well, I used to do it with my dad,” he said, a small smile coming across his features. For a second, you relaxed, thinking perhaps there’d be a sentimental moment, and maybe you could look past his dirty habit, because maybe it held nostalgic value. But then, he continued. “Plus, there’s something real amazing about taking down an animal bigger than you. Kind of exhilarating, actually.”

You let out a deflated sigh, all the hope for the evening rushing out of your body. You twirled your vodka cranberry around in its cup, the ice cubes clinking against the glass. You looked away from your “date” to glance at the television, briefly assessing the score plastered across the bottom of the screen to see what team was winning. When the hockey game on the screen didn’t pique your interest, you glanced around at the sticky bartop, little spills of water, soda, and juice that had yet to be taken care of because of the rush of customers, barely noticeable in the dingy, yellow light of the bar. 

“I’m going to the bathroom,” you told Ricky, with the bearded man barely looking up from his beer as he grunted a sound of acknowledgement, eyes glued to the TV. You were almost certain he’d wanted to take you there just to watch the game. He didn’t seem to notice you take your drink with  you on your way to the “bathroom.” 

Really, you were just ready to give it up and call it quits. You were fully prepared to call a taxi to take you home, shower, and go to sleep. You even pulled out your phone to order a ride when you were knocked into, your drink spilling all over your white top. 

You were ready to apologize, the words forming in the back of your throat as you looked up in shock at the much larger man who’d caused you to make the mess in the first place. But before you could even make a sound, you were being yelled at. “Hey, watch where you’re going!”

His voice was rough, and he was clearly angry. For a second, you were worried this stranger was going to try to pick a fight with you, and considering how much larger he was than you, it would be no question how it would turn out. But when he got a good look at you, and saw what the liquid had done to your shirt, a smirk slowly spread across his face. “Nice tits,” he commented, his eyes nearly smoldering. He let his eyes roam over your body and you felt like you were going to be sick.

“Gross,” you replied back, slamming your now-empty glass on the counter beside him, walking toward the exit with even more purpose than before. 

“Hey, hey, wait up,” he called after you, his eyes fixed on the curve of your ass while you walked away from him. You didn’t turn back to face him while you marched forward to get back to your house. Once outside, you thought you’d be in the clear, but this guy was particularly persistent. 

His hand gripped your wrist, making you turn toward him and pull yourself out of his grasp. “What?!” you spat at him, your anger flaring in your chest.

He scoffed at you, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. “Well, I was going to say sorry for snapping, but now I’d say we’re even,” he said, his tone accusatory. 

“Even?” you challenged, stressing the word as you narrowed your eyes at him. “You yelled at me and then told me I had nice tits.”

“Yeah, I gave you a compliment and everything. You’ve just been nasty to me,” he said, eyes narrowing as he leaned closer to you.

You leaned even closer to him, getting a little more in his face. “That wasn’t a compliment, and I don’t owe you anything.”

“Never said you did,” he said, his voice rising again out of irritation. 

“There you go, yelling again,” you accused, your noses practically touching at this point.

“Yeah? What are you gonna do about it?” His voice continued to get louder, making you growl and do the only thing you could think of at that moment -- you kissed him.

The kiss could only be described as angry; nothing but passion, teeth, and smashed lips. But he reciprocated and was clearly eager to. All the anger from tonight and your sexual frustration for the past month was coming out into this kiss, and he seemed to be letting things out, too. Just as his arms were moving to grip your waist and pull you closer to him, you got a notification that your driver was here, and would be departing in five minutes. 

You hesitated only briefly, looking up at the guy you’d been kissing to meet his lust-filled gaze, eyeing his full, slightly swollen lips before grabbing him by his wrist and pulling him towards your cab.

“Oh, it’s fine when you do it, but not when I do it,” he said, and you could practically hear him rolling his eyes.

“Shut up,” you retorted, rolling your eyes right back, even though he couldn’t see you. You both got into the backseat of a Honda Civic, immediately going back to kissing him as soon as he shut the door. 

The ride was mostly silent, save for the driver turning up his music so he didn’t have to hear the two of you smacking lips in the back of his car. Normally, you wouldn’t be acting this way in a stranger’s car. You were surprising yourself. But this guy just made you so angry, it was like you couldn’t think straight. Plus, it was hard to resist his lips.

When the car stopped, and you saw you’d reached your destination, you pulled yourself away from the guy to get out of the car. You hastily paid the driver on your phone, tipping him a good amount for having to deal with your out-of-control behavior, and ran up to your apartment. 

It was on the second floor of a two-story complex, more a condo than anything else. As you walked up the stairs, the guy grabbed a handful of your ass, and you moaned just loud enough for him to hear. When you made it to your front door, you hastily reached inside your purse to unlock the door, with the guy gripping you from behind while he placed open-mouthed, hot kisses into the skin on your neck. He let his hands trail up your stomach and over your still-wet breasts, nearly growling as he squeezed them.

The pleasure he was giving you clouded your mind, making you fumble with your keys. Growing impatient, he grabbed your keys from your hand and opened the door himself, which mildly annoyed you, but you were too focused on getting him in your bed to care.

You hurriedly closed and locked the door behind you, turning around to meet the man’s lips. You moaned openly into the kiss, your arms wrapping around him as he pulled you flush against him. You didn’t want to pull away again, but you had to to take him to your bedroom. You didn’t bother turning the lights on, only slightly stumbling over some objects as you made your way to your bed. You pulled him onto the bed with you, his hard body situating itself between your legs with ease. Your lips reconnected with his, once again releasing some of that anger you’d been holding in all night. 

He helped you lift your shirt over your head, revealing the lacy bra you’d worn underneath. You knew that in the dark, he couldn’t see it, but that didn’t stop him from dipping his head to kiss the tops of the swells of your breasts that peeked over the fabric. He reached behind you to impressively snap off your bra, tossing it over his shoulder somewhere while he gripped one of your breasts in his hand and brought his lips to your nipple. You arched into his touch, your hands flying into his hair, pulling on the dark strands. He groaned at the feeling, and you pulled harder, making him bite the hardened bud to make you squeal. 

You wrapped your legs around his waist, allowing him the ability to grind your bodies together, a whine escaping you as his jeans moved against yours, his hands moving to unbutton them. He undid both your jeans and helped you pull yours down before pulling his own down. He was quick to rid himself of his boxers, leaving you barely able to make out the size of his length. He ripped your panties off your body with a harsh tug, making you protest with a shout.

“Hey, those were nice!” you hissed at him, giving his shoulder a shove -- which did nothing, given his stature and strength. 

“I think you’ll live,” he replied sarcastically. “My name’s Ethan by the way. You’ll need to know that in a second.”

“For wha-- oh, god, Ethan!”

He’d sheathed himself fully inside you in one swift motion, making your body jerk away from him while your hands flew to his back, nails digging ruthlessly into his skin. He hissed at the feeling, his hands moving to your waist to hold you there instead of trying to escape him.

“Told you,” he smirked, beginning to snap his hips forward to meet yours.

Your legs wrapped tightly around his middle which only pulled him deeper, a sensation you both wanted to run from and wanted more of. It was extremely jarring; a feeling you’d never experienced with any other man. You could only moan in response to the feeling, your hips bucking up to meet his as your body craved more of him. 

The man -- Ethan -- pulled out of you, making you whine at the loss of his cock. “Hands and knees,” he ordered, slapping your thigh quickly. You complied, flipping over exhaustedly while you presented yourself to him. 

He spit onto your pussy, lubricating it even more than it already was, before sliding back inside you with ease. You pushed back on him, making him bottom out, which made him curse heavily and grab your hips with brute force. He started rocking your body back onto him while thrusting forward, taking complete control of you.

“You like that?” he asked through gritted teeth, his thighs slapping melodically against yours. “You like when I fuck you this hard?”

“God, yes,” you moaned, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. 

He bent over your body, his head next to your ear while he took a fistful of your hair to pull him back towards himself. “Of course you do, you little slut. Bet you want it harder,” he taunted you, laughing a little while he continued slamming his cock into you. 

“Yeah, right, like you can go harder,” you said, truly not believing that he could possibly fuck you any harder than he already was.

He laughed again, his free hand moving to spank you harshly. “You’re gonna regret that,” he muttered, sitting up and letting go of your hair. 

He grabbed your hips again, pulling out of you almost entirely to thrust fully back in with a force that had you screaming. He was pulling you back as he pushed forward, but with enough force behind his thrusts that his grip on your middle was the only thing holding you up. 

Him being so rough with you had a coil in your core tightening faster than any man had ever achieved. “Ethan,” you screamed, your eyes starting to cloud with tears as pleasure overwhelmed you. “I’m gonna cum,” you warned, your voice going higher and higher in pitch. 

“Give it to me, baby,” he encouraged, continuing his lethal attack to your body. You came harder than you ever had, actually managing to squirt onto him, a feeling that was enough to trigger his own orgasm.

“Where do you want me to cum?” he asked quickly.

“Inside me, cum inside me, please,” you begged, fighting to push back against him to get him deeper. 

“Fuck—“ he grunted, stilling behind you while he emptied his load into you. “I hope you’re on the pill,” he said as he came down, realizing how bad this situation could turn out if you weren’t.

“Obviously I am, dumbass,” you said, your mind still reeling from how hot the sex you’d just had was. 

“It’s actually not obvious, asshole,” he retorted, slapping you on the ass before pulling out. 

You were completely exhausted, watching him move around your room from your position on your bed, your fucked out form just laying there with a stranger’s cum leaking out of you. As Ethan got dressed, he looked at you with a smirk. “You’re a lot more tolerable when you’re screaming my name instead of screaming at me,” he quipped, winking at you. 

“You yelled at me,” you grumbled, honestly too tired to fight him. 

“Whatever,” he said, moving over to your phone on your nightstand. You were going to protest, really, you were — but you were so tired you couldn’t care. 

He unlocked your phone with your thumb, quickly adding himself to your contacts and sending his own phone a text from yours. He looked over at you when he finished, tilting his head to look at your still naked body, covered in sweat, his cum still dripping from you. It was a gorgeous sight, and he wanted to do something gentle, soft; show his gratitude and appreciation for you. But instead, he settled on a quick slap to your ass, which you whined at the contact of, still sensitive after such an intense fuck. 

He let himself out, and you made the small effort of getting under your covers and curling up to fall asleep. You thought that would be the last you’d ever hear or see of Ethan, and you were fine with that. You’d probably regret fucking him later -- he was such a jerk. The way he acted was gross. You’d normally never let a guy like him anywhere near your bed -- let alone your pussy. 

You’d also never been more wrong about a situation.

The next morning, you groaned as you turned over in your bed, your muscles absolutely killing you. It was a soreness you loved; a sign of a truly good fuck. You’d needed it, and as much as it hurt to move right now, you were grateful for it. You felt at ease, especially having let out such an exuberant amount of emotions the night prior. 

You slowly opened your eyes, adjusting to the sunlight that peeked through the curtains, and reached your arm over to your nightstand. You grabbed your phone, checking to see the time. It was ten in the morning on a Saturday, and you sat up with a heavy yawn. You scrolled through your notifications, and ended up with a furrowed brow. There was a text from an unknown number, with just the details of an address. 

You were surprised to find that you’d sent your address and they’d sent theirs. This happened last night, which you could see from the timestamp which read 2:36am. You could tell the number belonged to Ethan, and you didn’t bother putting his name in. You really didn’t have any other plans to see him again -- one good fuck would be fine for you. 

You got out of bed, still naked from the night before, and shuffled over to your shower. You turned the water on hot, brushing your teeth while you waited for the water to get warmer. Your attention was called to your phone when it vibrated, rolling your eyes when you saw who the text was from. Ethan’s number. You decided to ignore it, getting into the shower and allowing the hot water to roll over your body. You scrubbed away the makeup and memories from the night before, focusing on massaging your muscles. You washed your hair, face, and body, turning off the water and grabbing your towel to pat yourself dry before putting your robe on. 

You checked your phone to see you actually had seven unread messages from Ethan’s number. With a roll of your eyes, you unlocked your phone to read the texts. 

(unknown number): hey. left my belt at your place. gonna stop by today to grab it (unknown number): actually i have to come over sooner than later (unknown number): will you fucking answer (unknown number): i swear if you’re ignoring me (unknown number): i just realized i don’t even know your name (unknown number): girl with the nice tits, answer your phone (unknown number): brat, answer your phone

You felt anger flare in your chest at the sheer disrespect of his tone talking to you. You let this guy fuck you last night. And fuck, did it piss you off that he thought he could talk to you like that.

(you): i should accidentally take a pair of scissors and destroy your belt for how you talk to me

He replied almost instantly. 

(unknown number): and i should accidentally shove my dick down your throat for how YOU talk to ME

Although you were frowning at your phone, staring at his words with a harsh glare, you couldn’t deny the heat between your legs at the thought. You were really into shit like that; being taken control of, being dominated, being used… but you had to remember who you were talking to. You took a steadying breath, ready to type a reply when he started typing again. 

(unknown number): i’m coming over, i’ll be there in 5. just want my belt

You quickly replied with fine, taking your towel to dry your hair a bit. Just as you were hanging up your towel, you heard a knock on your door. But he didn’t just knock once, no -- he started drumming on your front door. You rushed to open it, the fear of your neighbors hearing it making panic and anger rise in your throat. You thrust the door open quickly, already greeting him with fury in your eyes. 

“What’s wrong with you?” you demanded, crossing your arms over your robe-covered chest. 

He looked you up and down — hair wet, face bare, robe wrapped around your body, your legs exposed — prettier than he remembered. Even with your scowl scrunching up your features. He smirked at you, “I’m impatient.”

“Clearly,” you sneered, moving from your doorway to let him in. 

In the sunlight, he was able to see your apartment, and he could only describe it as cozy. Dark hardwood floors with a white, tan, and dusty pastel color scheme running throughout. He turned his attention on your retreating form, deciding he should probably follow you. 

“Shoes off,” you told him. 

“You didn’t seem too worried about my shoes last night,” he teased, but started to take his shoes off nevertheless. He left them by your front door, sock-clad feet barely making a sound as he followed you down a hallway to your room. 

Other than the clothes from last night — and his belt over in the corner — your bedroom was tidy. It kept the same color scheme as the rest of your apartment, and he thought about how Grayson would probably like it. He decided to mention it to you. 

“Nice place. My twin brother would like it.”

“You have a twin?” you asked, quirking a brow at him. 

He nodded, almost preparing himself for oncoming questions he always seemed to get about it. But instead, you just scoffed, “Great. There’s two of you. Just when I was gaining a little more hope in the world.”

Taken aback, Ethan barked a laugh. He shook his head in amusement, “You’re really such a bitch.” 

Now it was your turn to laugh at him. “I’m a bitch? You still never apologized for what you did to me last night.”

“What — make you cum?” he asked, walking closer to you now, his steps slow and calculated. “Make you beg for more? Pump you full of my cum just like you wanted? Fuck, I bet there’s still some inside you.” 

He was right in front of you now, your body trembling from the memory and the way he spoke to you. You’d enjoyed every second of him being inside of you, from the way he’d moved his hips to the feeling of his hands on you. You couldn’t deny you wanted more if you tried — Ethan could see the lust returning to your face, and watched your breathing change. 

He brought a hand up to your cheek, his fingers caressing the skin before it moved to your hair, grabbing a fistful of it to bring you closer to him. “You want more?”

You nodded, your eyes glued to his. He laughed darkly, his other hand coming up to slap you just hard enough for you to know it was a punishment. “Use your words, brat. Tell me how bad you want me.” 

“Fuck, I want you, want you inside me, daddy—“

You gasped a little when you called him that, not sure if you’d just ruined the moment. But you could tell from the way his eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head that he loved it. And if that hadn’t been telling enough, you definitely knew he loved it by the way he pushed your upper body forward so you were bent over onto your bed, hearing him quickly undo his pants, and spank you roughly on your ass. 

Your body jolted away from him, the soreness in your body ever present. You whimpered audibly, which made him laugh. His hand came down on your ass again, the force behind it merciless. “Sore?”

You nodded, but that earned you another spank, which made you yelp out, “Yes! Yes, I’m sore.”

“Good girl,” he murmured, running his hand over your reddened skin to soothe it. “Who made you this sore?”

“You, daddy,” you whimpered, your hands balling into fists in the sheets. In response, you felt his dick tap your clit, already soaked from the way he was speaking to you. He hummed as he felt your wetness coat his tip, his free hand gently gliding over your ass before squeezing it. 

“Such a pretty pussy,” he rasped, and your knees nearly buckled when you realized he was just looking at it, watching it glisten with your juices and clench around nothing while you waited for him.

He seemed to enjoy the way your walls flexed, because he brought the pad of his middle finger to your clit, just to watch the way your body reacted to him. He swirled his finger around it, gathering up some of your wetness before his finger slid up to your smaller, puckered hole.

You tensed at first, surprised by his actions, but he didn’t do anything except let his finger tap the area. “Is this okay?” he asked, softer than before.

You nodded, biting your lip, which he accepted for an answer this time. He could tell by the way you reacted that you didn’t normally experiment with anal play, but that you were inclined to try. He spread your wetness around the area, lightly lubricating it before allowing the tip of his finger to push in. 

You sucked in a small breath, the feeling foreign but not uncomfortable. He didn’t move his finger at first, just kept it barely inside you, as he brought his dick up to your entrance. When pushed into you, you let out a deep whine, still feeling sore from the night before. It ached to have him stretching you out again, a feeling that was caught somewhere between pain and pleasure. From the way your holes tightened around his finger and cock, he knew he had to take it slow for the moment. 

When he finally pushed himself all the way into you, he let out a satisfied moan, the hand that wasn’t fingering you moving to caress the skin on your back. You moaned, wiggling back on him some more to urge him to start moving. He complied, starting at a pace that wasn’t slow but also wasn’t very fast. He rocked his hips back and forth, more focused on wanting to build your comfort with his finger than anything else. 

He started to move his finger, just swirling it around inside you, the nerves there loving the attention. You moaned deeply at the feeling, actually pushing back against him again to tell him you wanted more. However, when his finger went a little deeper, you winced, feeling a sharp pain. 

“Easy now, brat. Let’s take it slow,” Ethan warned, his free hand roaming across your skin to help you relax. 

“Okay,” you sighed out in relief, trusting him to take care of you.

You were shocked at the realization that you trusted him right now, trusted this guy who you’d only met hours earlier and had had inside you only twice. But at least when he was fucking you, he seemed tolerable. He continued pushing into you, loving the wet sounds your body made for him. He looked down at the little bruises that were appearing from the night before, admired the redness of your skin from his spanks. He couldn’t believe his own mind again -- he was thinking about how beautiful you looked covered up in his marks, how stunning sex appeared on your skin. He shook his head at himself, trying to remember how nasty you could be. 

Caught up in your own thoughts, you’d both almost forgot the task at hand. Until you started feeling that familiar coil in your stomach, bringing you back to the present. “Ethan, I’m close,” you told him, your back arching more as you pushed your hips back to try to take him deeper again. 

“What’d you call me?” he asked, stilling all his movements. The way you whined in response, clenching desperately around him nearly made him dizzy.

“I’m sorry, daddy,” you pouted, trying to move on him to create more pleasure to focus on your building orgasm. 

“Nuh-uh, not good enough,” he said, delivering a harsh slap to your ass. “Beg me, brat.”

You protested again, trying to bring your fingers down to meet your clit and bring yourself to orgasm. Ethan was quick to retract his finger from your ass, using both of his hands to hook his arms around yours, making you gasp as your chest was pulled up off the bed. He caught both your arms in a single hand, easily gripping you so you couldn’t move. His other hand came up and wrapped around your throat, squeezing the sides to cut off your airway slightly. 

You swore you could feel yourself get wetter. “You’re going to apologize again and then you’re going to beg me to let you cum. We’ll see if I decide if you’ve earned it,” he growled in your ear before releasing you and pushing you against the bed again. 

You gasped for air, your fingers clawing at the sheets again, waves of pleasure already rolling through your body in sharp waves. With the smallest of efforts from him, you could be cumming. You almost wanted to push him farther, see what else he would do if you continued to resist him, but you were afraid he would be as malicious to leave you in this state. Maybe make you get him off and then leave you to deal with it yourself. So, instead of pushing further, you gave in.

“I’m sorry, daddy, please forgive me,” you started, your hips shifting impatiently with him still seated inside you. You moaned at the feeling of him being so deep. “I’ll be a good girl.”

His hips started to roll again, agonizingly slow. “That’s a good start,” he said, his tone approving. “We’ll see if you earn my forgiveness or not.”

“Okay, daddy,” you answered, which pleased him. He liked hearing you submit to him while you were bent over for him, his cum still inside you and about to take more -- it had him gripping your body just that much harder out of pure bliss. 

“Tell me what you want,” he urged, his voice gravelly and low. It sent chills down your spine, your pussy clenching around him in a way that had him already thrusting harder.

“Please make me cum, daddy,” you begged softly, looking over your shoulder innocently at him, hoping your eyes would soften him into giving in to giving you what you needed. And they almost did; he could feel his cock twitch in pleasure at the sight. He almost lost control. Almost.

“And how would I do that?” he asked, needing you to say more. 

“Fuck me, daddy,” you whined, focusing on not moving on him -- which would only give him more reason to punish you. 

“And what else?” he pushed.

“Please?” you tried, thinking the magic word would help.

“Please, what?”

He was looking for something else, and the way his strokes remained slow and steady told you he had the patience to wait all day for you to figure it out. You thought for a second, screwing your eyes shut as you felt him slide in and out of you at a tragically slow pace. It was practically a distraction. 

You thought about what you needed, what you wanted him to do more than anything — fuck you, yes, but what else?

Realization struck you, and in your voice was a raw and unmistakable need. “Play with my pussy, daddy, please,” you moaned. 

The sound which came from his chest could be described as nothing short of a growl, his hand wrapping around your body to reach your swollen clit and his hips snapping forward again with the strength and speed you needed them at. You cried out in pleasure, your orgasm building fast. He was fucking you so well, hitting spots inside you from this angle and position that you could barely breathe from the pleasure. 

You came with a shout, your pussy fluttering around him tightly in a way that had his orgasm following closely behind yours. His hips bucked forward in shallow thrusts as he emptied himself into you again with a satisfied groan. 

He pulled out of you and stood back to watch his cum drip out of you again, mesmerized by the sight. He was interrupted by your irritated sigh. “I just showered,” you complained, standing upright and feeling his cum drip out of you and start running down your leg. 

“Really? I fucked you and you’re worried about your shower? You really are a brat,” he shook his head. 

“My name is (Y/N),” you snapped back. 

“Brat suits you better.”

“Whatever. Get your belt and go,” you waved him off, walking back to your bathroom to wipe up the cum that was leaking out of you. 

He huffed, obviously annoyed at how dismissive of him you were now that he made you cum. Five minutes ago, you were putty in his hands, and now you’d already slipped through his fingers. He didn’t like you per say, he just wanted you to admit you liked him. He wanted you to chase after his attention like everyone else did. But you were too concerned about your fucking shower to care. 

But Ethan was determined to prove to his own ego that he would get you to like him. Even if your bratty attitude drove him up a wall. He’d get you to come around. 

When you walked out and he was still there, you crossed your arms over your bare chest, not caring if he saw it now since he’d already seen it twice, just communicating your agitation through your body language. 

“What?” you asked when he just stood there, quirking your brow. 

“I don’t get a kiss goodbye?” he asked snarkily, a teasing smirk playing on his lips.

“You didn’t get a kiss hello so why would I give you a kiss goodbye?” you asked, bristling at the idea of giving him something so affectionate. 

“Come on, brat,” he coaxed, holding his arms open for you to walk into. 

You debated for a moment, trying to consider whether entertaining this would be worth it. You really didn’t want to involve yourself with him more than you already had. But, his lips turned further up into his smirk, and he wiggled his brows in a way that made you almost laugh -- almost, but you couldn’t give him the satisfaction. “Fine, if it’ll get you out of my apartment.”

You walked into his arms, surprised at the gentle warmth you found there; though, you supposed, he was still human. Even if he was damn near intolerable. He wrapped them around your waist, pulling you to him in a way he hadn’t before. Sure, you’d known him less than 24 hours, but still -- it was different. 

Kissing him now was different, too. It wasn’t desperate and needy, it was just -- a kiss. It lingered, his lips actually feeling pillowy soft against yours. Your hands rested against his still bare chest, and you had to admit, the skin-to-skin contact felt amazing. After being handled so roughly, no matter how much you’d enjoyed it, it was nice to be touched gently. 

To your dismay, he pulled away first. He looked at you for a second, just let his eyes dust over your features, and then he smirked at you again. “See you soon, brat,” he said, giving your ass a swift tap.

You rolled your eyes as he slipped his shirt on and grabbed his belt. “No, you won’t,” you said decisively. He’d been a good fuck, but god, did he piss you off. 

“We’ll see,” he snorted, his ego radiating off of him so much it was almost tangible.

Finally, he walked out, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. You didn’t like that he could affect you so easily. First, he’d turned you on, but then, that kiss… you couldn’t deny that you’d liked it.

When your front door shut, you decided that was enough for him to metaphorically have left your life for good. You let the idea shift around your brain, you were done with him. 

But Ethan was not an easy man to ignore.

He texted you periodically throughout the week, teasing you about whether or not you missed him enough yet to literally crawl back to him, which you were always quick to shut down. You’d tried to simply ignore him, but he had a very particular talent of being able to enrage you even over the phone. You couldn’t resist texting him back sometimes. It was petty urge, you had to admit, but he made you petty.

You’d finally put him in your phone, simply as e. The things he usually texted you were annoying as hell. For example:

(e): miss screaming my name? (you): nope.

(e): hey (you): hi? (e): did you get your period yet? (you): yeah, the other day. don’t worry, i’m not pregnant with your child (e): hmm. i could feel extra bitchy vibes coming from you (you): shut up bitchass (e): see?

(e): hey (e): hey (e): hey brat (e): heeeeeeey brat (e): i bet you miss me (you): absolutely not. (e): good, you answered. wyd 

To which, you always left him on read. You were not going to become his booty call. He would not be a regular, continuous fuck for you. It was good while it lasted, but the more you had to put up with him, the more stress would be added to your life. 

Besides, you had better things to worry about. You had bills to pay and a minimum wage job to work. You really didn’t want to have to worry about the complications of a friends with benefits situation — if you’d even call it that. Friends seemed like an overstatement. No, you were done with him, and he was behind you. 

You got ready for work, another shift at a diner near your apartment. You’d worked there for a little over a year, and while the customers were a pain in the ass and your feet were always killing you, you loved your coworkers. It was Friday night, so it was going to be busy, and probably a little chaotic — but it would make for great jokes and stories with your friends. 

Your uniform was a little on the ridiculous side, and always got the attention of the men who you served. That’s what it was meant to do, you knew that, and it certainly earned you gracious tips, but that didn’t make it any less of an eyeroll. 

A white, button down shirt that was required to be buttoned down to a certain point, tucked into a black, pleated skirt, and a black pair of flats or heels no taller than two inches. You almost always wore the flats, but tonight, well… rent was due soon. So you opted for the heels, knowing you would hate yourself for it later when your feet would be hanging on by a thread.

You drove to work, parking in your usual spot to find the restaurant already getting busy. You were anticipating an evening busy enough to make the time fly by. You walked inside the establishment, greeting your manager who was interacting with some guests, and moved into the back room. You were always assigned the same tables, some large and some small. You hoped a large family would come through and order enough food for an army, and hoped they knew how to tip. Those tips were usually pretty good. 

As you’d suspected, time was whirring by you faster than you could really tell. An hour turned to two, which turned to four, and by then, your shift was half-way through. Your best friend, Alice, was working that shift with you. The two of you would snack together while you waited for different tables’ meals to come up, your eyes nervously darting around to watch for your manager. 

“Oh shit, some hot guys just walked in,” she said, her interest piqued. You whipped your head around, and nearly paled. Of fucking course. Ethan. 

Ethan, and a pack of his loud, boisterous friends, it seemed. You could make out familiar features on another one of the guys — that must be his brother, Grayson. He seemed to be all smiles and laughter. 

Caught up in your annoyance and shock, Alice poked you in your side. “Hellooo, Earth to (Y/N)?”

“Hmm? Sorry,” you responded, turning your attention back to her. “What did you say?”

“I said, do you call dibs on any of them?”

“Oh, uh...” you looked back at the group, and a nervous feeling blossomed in your stomach. Should you claim him? The idea bounced around in your head. You weren’t supposed to be bothered by his presence anymore. You weren’t supposed to be affected by him. But the idea of watching Alice potentially flirt with him, and the idea of his attention being on someone other than you bothered you. And you wanted to punch yourself in the face for it.

“Um, yeah, the one with the brown hair and intense eyes,” you answered, looking back at her and hoping your tone didn’t give anything away. 

She snorted, and you were afraid she caught you. “There are two of them,” she said, and you tried not to show your relief on your face. 

“Oh, right,” you looked back. “The one that’s not smiling.”

And he wasn’t. In what you had assumed was a typical Ethan fashion, he looked pretty disinterested, just nodded along to whatever was being said and stuck close to his twin. 

You noticed, with a bittersweet pang of your heart, that they were being seated at a table in your section. Your heart rate spiked, nerves settling over you. What would he say when he saw you? God, you could already hear his teasing now.

You told Alice you’d be right back, and in a daze, you walked over with some menus and a fake smile, ready to pretend not to know who Ethan was. But, Ethan seemed to have a different plan.

“(Y/N)! I didn’t know you worked here,” he greeted you with a taunting smile on his face, like he was challenging you. The two of you knew exactly what had been going on between you, if, you thought spitefully, there even was anything going on between you. Because there wasn’t.

You forced a wider, familiar smile onto your face. “Hi, Ethan, right?”

You were beyond tempted to call him the wrong name, so much so that the syllables seemed to hang off your tongue. But your mind was focused on your tip. You knew you’d get treated like shit if he’d ordered it, and you were scared he would. You had to play nice. 

“That’s right, but I don’t think that’s what you called me last time I saw you.”

He was dangling it in your face. You felt your anger flare up, something that you were usually if not always able to control in your workplace. You were a waitress. You were always angry at someone. But no one could make you angry like Ethan could. 

“Yeah, I probably called you an ass or something close enough,” you replied snarkily, moving to introduce yourself to the rest of the table while they snickered at your comment. 

At least they seemed to have a sense of humor. Ethan watched you with his tongue in his cheek, amused by your outburst. He wondered how many of your buttons he could push without getting kicked out. But then, as he eyed your top, there weren’t many buttons to push at all. And that skirt… he wasn’t walking out of the diner without a promise to see you tonight. 

You walked away to let the table look over the menus, walking back to Alice. She wiggled her eyebrows at you when you approached, a knowing smile toying on her lips. “So, he seems interested in you.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “You have no idea.”

She giggled, tapping you lightly on your behind as she walked away, assuming it was going well. You gathered up the drinks they’d ordered, expertly carrying them to the table. Once they were all served their drinks, you took out your notepad and pen to take their orders. 

You went around the table, taking everyone’s orders. Surprisingly, Ethan didn’t make some snarky comment -- just ordered a burger without cheese and let you continue doing your job. Until, his friend…

“I’d like a piece of that ass,” he said suggestively, making your chest clench out of embarrassment. Before you could even say anything, Ethan’s hand was flying to the back of his friend’s head. 

“The fuck is wrong with you?” he asked, anger present in his voice. 

His friend only laughed, shaking his head, “Only joking, bro.”

“Wasn’t funny,” you responded coldly, waiting with clenched teeth to finish taking his order. 

He put his hands up in defense, leaning back against the booth. “Whatever, I get it. Lemme just get--”

“Apologize,” Ethan cut him off. 

He looked at Ethan in disbelief. “What?”

“You heard me. Apologize.”

His friend looked at you incredulously, shocked that he was being reprimanded by his own friend. He was clearly the bros-before-hoes type. “Sorry,” he said with a hint of spite, barely able to look you in the eye. But it would do.

You looked at Ethan and mouthed your thanks to him, to which he nodded, his demeanor relaxed despite how angry he was feeling. You were his to taunt, to fuck with, to annoy… because he wouldn’t do it to embarrass you in front of everyone. He knew you were quick witted enough to respond to his comments without letting the truth show. 

The rest of the evening seemed to go by just fine. There were no more problems from Ethan’s table, as he seemed to have shut down anyone’s desire to fuck with you. They finished their food, they left, and left a hell of a tip -- most likely on Ethan’s orders. 

You were surprised to admit it, but you actually felt beyond thankful to him. You couldn’t stand up for yourself at work, so for him to help you like that meant more to you than you could express. You started closing up your tables and stations, ready to just be done for the night. 

You said goodnight to your coworkers, clocked out, and headed out to your car. You were looking down into your purse, searching for your keys, when you were grabbed from behind. The only sound that left your mouth was a gasp before a hand covered your mouth. You struggled against your attackers grasp, only — your attacker was laughing. 

He started to put you down, and you already knew. You knew it was Ethan. If his voice didn’t give it away, it was his actions. Your chest heaved, emotion consuming you — anger, rage, fear, and the tiniest twinge of relief that you were safe. What was worse was you could feel tears welling up in your eyes as you were overwhelmed by the onslaught of feelings.

“You fucking idiot!” you screamed at him, taking in a shaky breath, clenching your teeth and trying to swallow the lump in your throat. “That wasn’t funny!”

Out of anger, and slight embarrassment over your reaction to his stupid prank, you brought your hands down on his chest to hit him, trying to push him away from you. But he was quick to grab a hold of both your wrists, spinning you around in his grasp so you were wrapped up in his arms with your arms crossed over each other. His laughter slowly subsided, and you focused on breathing and absolutely not crying. 

When his laughs finally died down, he brought his lips down to your ear and nibbled the shell of it, his breath tickling your cheek. He was ready to tease you about how funny your reaction was, but he heard you sniffle, which you’d desperately tried to hide. 

“Hey,” he said, concern laced in his voice. He turned you around in his grasp, soft eyes roaming openly over your face. “You’re okay. I’m sorry.”

He sounded genuine, so you nodded, but couldn’t look up at him. You took a deep breath, one little tear rolling over your cheek. “You really scared me,” you admitted, feeling your stomach curl at how vulnerable you sounded. 

You wanted to push him away from you, wanted to scream at him for being such an asshole, but you were still shaken. You were terrified of something like that actually happening to you. In spite of yourself, you leaned further into him, allowing his frame and strong body to provide you a false sense of security. He wrapped his arms tighter around you immediately, letting you gather yourself. He whispered another apology before mumbling more reassurances, and you felt your heart rate return to normal. Actually, not to normal -- slower than that. He was soothing you, as odd as it sounded in regards to Ethan as you’d known him. 

Not for the first time, you were surprised to find you trusted him, especially in this moment where he was the only thing standing between you and potential danger. Even though he should be considered potential danger… his warm smell and firm hold on you didn’t allow you to be scared of him. 

But before you could melt further into him, you started to push him away, forcing yourself to focus on being angry at him. “You should never do that to a girl. Actually, not to anyone,” you scolded, even though you knew he’d probably already figured that out.

And he told you as much. “I know, I get it. I’m sorry,” he said, but his face turned up in a smirk. “Thought you were tougher than that, brat.”

You scoffed at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “I cannot fucking believe you.”

“What? I said I was sorry,” he deadpanned, furrowing his brow at you and mimicking your stance.

“Well, I’m not really in the mood to joke around right now,” you snapped, turning around to walk away from him and head to your car. 

“Don’t walk away from me, (Y/N),” Ethan said, his voice hard.

“Oh, look! He knows my name again,” you said over your shoulder, continuing your walk to your car.

“Would you stop being such a child?” 

To which you responded childishly, “Are you gonna make me?”

It was enough for him to walk over to you in three long strides and grab you by your elbow. “Yeah, I am gonna make you. I’m gonna teach you a lesson, and you’re gonna beg me to do it.”

You were so ready to fight him; to push him away, tell him to fuck off, leave you the fuck alone. You were going to do it, but when you whipped around to meet his eyes you were instantly frozen. His gaze was hard -- dominant. You could see the rage and lust swirling around his irises, and your body reacted almost immediately. You felt yourself nearly tremble when his other hand cupped your cheek softly, his sudden gentleness surprising you and piquing your curiosity. He just stared at you, his eyes locked on yours with that intense look still in them. He was waiting, you realized, for you to answer him. 

You took in a shaky breath, worried you wouldn’t be able to find your voice to answer him. You tried to compose yourself, and replied as evenly as you could, “Like hell you’ll make me beg for it.”

His eyes seemed to darken even more, his grip on your arm tightening briefly. “Keys,” he said simply, his other hand opening expectantly, his palm facing you. 

“No, it’s my—“

“Keys,” he repeated, more sternly now. 

You rolled your eyes, an action that would surely worsen your punishment later, and handed over your keys. He opened your door for you, slamming it shut behind him. He walked over to the driver’s side of your car, got in, and started driving in the direction of your apartment. 

He parked near your house and didn’t bother giving you your keys back. He knew which apartment was yours and which key on the ring opened its door. He didn’t even wait for you as he strode to your front door, leaving you to nearly jog to catch up to him. 

When he got to your door, he opened it and waited for you, standing outside with his arms crossed. You timidly approached him, your fingers toying with the hem of your skirt. He glared at you while he waited for you to hurry up, his impatience only growing. 

When you finally crossed the threshold of your apartment, you were pushed to the ground and landed on your hands and knees — hard. You’d definitely have bruises on your knees tomorrow. 

You stayed in your position on the floor, knowing you’d probably already pissed him off enough — resisting now would just be an invitation for brutality. He stalked up to you, his steps slow and calculated. Once he was parallel to your head, he reached down and grabbed a fistful of your hair. You were going to stand, but his foot stopped you, keeping you on the ground. 

He started walking towards your bedroom, keeping his grip on your hair, and made you crawl next to him. Your knees were now on the verge of aching, and he knew they would be. He had every intention of keeping you on them until you begged to be off them. 

When he got to your bedroom, he had you sit up on your knees and wait for him to take off his pants. He allowed them to drop to his ankles, leaving his boxers on. He looked at you expectantly, and you got to work. 

You leaned forward, allowing your mouth to cover his hardening cock through his underwear. You let your tongue dampen the material while you sucked on it gently, focusing on getting him completely hard. 

He pulled you back by your hair, looking down at you with those mesmerizing eyes. “No teasing. This is your only warning.”

You nodded, biting your lip, and he let your hair go so you could continue. You looped your fingers into the top of his boxers, pulling them down and freeing him from their confines. Once you pulled them down to his ankles, you grasped his length in your hand, seeing just how big he was for the first time. You hadn’t had time to admire him before this point. 

Before he could get mad, you covered the tip with your mouth, starting slow bobs of your head up and down his shaft. His hands came to your hair and pushed it out of your face so he could see you better. He loved the way his cock looked going in and out of your mouth, and when your eyes flicked up to meet his gaze — fuck, he almost wanted to forget about punishing you. 

Almost.

As you continued, your saliva started to accumulate, and little trails of it started running down your chin, dripping onto your chest. The sight was captivating to him, and the messy way you were taking him was driving him wild. He started to thrust shallowly into your mouth in time with the movements of your head, making you take him a little farther back than you already were. 

The feeling was great for both of you, especially him. But words couldn’t describe the pleasure you felt when he let out a deep moan and cursed under his breath. “So good,” he praised softly, making your eyes nearly flutter shut. 

However, as much as you were enjoying pleasuring him, your knees were starting to ache. You started to shift your weight around, and Ethan took notice to it. He smirked down at you, watching you squirm exactly as he intended you to. 

“Uncomfortable?” he asked, his voice falsely soft. 

You nodded, pulling off him to start to stand up. But he was quick to keep you in place with his hand, his eyes trained on you in amusement. You looked up at him in confusion, and he simply smiled down at you. 

“Good. Stay there until I tell you to get up.”

You glared at him, but took his dick into your hand again and brought him back into your mouth. You focused on the task at hand, trying to please him in any way you could to get him to ease the torture he imposed on your knees. 

“Why can’t you always be this good for me?” he murmured, his hand coming to caress your cheek. 

You pulled off him with a pop, allowing your tongue to tease him before answering. “Then I wouldn’t be your brat, would I?”

He chuckled, and you knew you’d said exactly what he wanted to hear. At the same time, you felt it was the truth. Not just a half truth spoken in the heat of the moment. He grabbed you by your chin, leading you up towards him and off your sore knees. You hissed at the feeling of standing now, and he was quick to ease your pain, holding you close to him so you didn’t have to rely on your body to hold yourself up. 

He kissed you hotly, that passion back in the way he kissed you. It was all desperation and fire, sending wetness pooling between your legs. He lifted you off the ground, carrying you alarmingly effortlessly to your bed. He pushed his pants and underwear off his body completely before climbing over you. 

You hooked your thumbs into your skirt to pull it down, but your hands were smacked away. Ethan crawled over your body, wrapping a hand around your throat while his other hand worked on the buttons of your top. 

“I had to watch you walk around in this little outfit all fucking night. I had to watch other guys, even my own friends, admire how fucking hot you are. I’m gonna fuck you in this outfit, so every time you wear it to work, you’ll think about how good it felt to have me inside you,” he growled, his hand pushing the material of your shirt apart so your breasts were exposed to him, still in your plain bra. 

You were panting under him, squirming under his heavy gaze and from his words. Your hips bucked towards his, and he responded by slapping your thigh and pushing your hips down. He glared at you, and it communicated that he was in control. You were not allowed to so much as respond to his touch. No matter how much he teased and baited you, you were supposed to sit there and take it.

You whined, a pout and furrowed brows decorating your features. He was quick to bring his other hand up to smack you, then he pushed his fingers passed your lips, making you suck on them. He leveled his gaze with yours, his stare intense.

“Keep pushing me, you’ll regret it,” he warned, the patience leaving his eyes. To his dismay, you giggled, swirling your tongue around his fingers. 

He brought his other hand to your throat, tightening his grip again. He pulled his fingers from your mouth, bringing them to your already soaked pussy, not needing the lubrication. He shoved them both inside you, making you squeak. He seemed satisfied with your reaction, curling his fingers while the hand around your throat tightened again. When your eyebrows knitted together and you let out a mewling moan, he knew he had you right where he wanted you. 

He didn’t bother to build your pleasure to deny you orgasm, he just removed his fingers all together and enjoyed the whine of annoyance you let out. He brought his fingers back up to your mouth, making you suck on them. He kept the hand around your throat loose — a simple reminder that, at any moment, he could have you begging and writhing beneath him if he wanted. 

“Hands and knees again,” he ordered, and you were at least thankful it was on the bed this time instead of on your hardwood floor -- you weren’t sure if you’d be able to take it. 

It seemed he’d decided that he’d wanted you begging and writhing, though, because his hand met the soft skin of your ass as soon as you were in position. And if you thought your knees hurt, you had no idea what storm was coming to you now.

The first slap hadn’t been so bad. But smack after smack, he kept going, never seeming to get enough of the way you screamed in response, or the way your ass rippled every time his hand made contact. You were absolutely positive you would be so bruised tomorrow you wouldn’t be able to sit. 

“Please, it hurts,” you gasped out, hands clutching your blankets as you braced yourself for more impact.

He delivered one last whack, chuckling out, “Good.”

You whimpered again, the whiny sound coming from the back of your throat, falling over on your side once he stopped. You caught your breath while he smoothed his hands gently over your skin, admiring how bright and red it was. It was incredible -- you already looked so fucked out, and he hadn’t even begun with you. 

He laid beside you, curling up to you and grabbing your leg under your knee. He brought it up so your cunt was exposed to him, bringing your hand up to keep your leg in position while he lined himself up with your entrance. 

He pushed in slowly, savoring the feeling of your walls wrapped around him again, his teeth biting into your shoulder where his moans were muffled. He started to rock his hips back and forth, rolling them into yours to create a beautiful friction. His hand trailed down your side and balled itself up in your skirt, pulling you even closer to him as he started to pound faster.

“Fuck,” he breathed out, kissing and biting your shoulder. “Missed this tight pussy.”

You could only throw your head back in response, your walls clamping down on his cock the way you knew he liked. You weren’t disappointed with his reaction; he groaned in pleasure, needing to pause for a moment before continuing to plow into you. You felt a little smirk form on your face, knowing you could do that to him.

A moment later, he was grabbing your face and turning it so he could kiss you sloppily, a mewl of pleasure slipping between your mouths. He kissed you deeply, never easing the pace of his hard thrusts, and didn’t pull away until you needed to breathe. And even then, his lips rested against yours while you panted heavily. 

The hand that had balled itself into your skirt was trailing back up your side, his fingers dancing over your breasts briefly before his hand settled, again, onto your neck. He applied a light pressure, but you knew this wasn’t punishment; this was possession. His eyes bored into yours and all you could feel was excitement coursing through your veins -- no, that was your orgasm building.

One of your hands flew over his, your mouth opening into an O shape. “Ethan,” you moaned, your fingers squeezing his as your orgasm crept over you.

“Let go,” he said, his hand quickly moving back down to your clit where he applied pressure, pushing you over the edge.

You came, hard, all over his cock. He felt the pulsing beat of your cunt all over his shaft, the flutters and spasms of your walls making him bite your shoulder once again. He held himself back from cumming, pulling out of you once he felt your body relax again.

“Suck me off,” he said, laying back against your pillows.

You were eager to please him after he made you cum like that, so you crawled between his legs without hesitation, taking him far back into your throat as soon as you took him into your mouth. There wasn’t any reason to tease him now, not after he treated you so well. 

He moaned just loud enough for you to hear him, and the sound made your pussy ache again. You wanted to hear more of it, so you pushed yourself to take him even further. You felt him in your throat, and you gagged around him, earning an even louder moan from him. You were going to keep going, let him fuck and use your throat, but he had another idea.

“Get up here,” he ordered, his lids heavy as he watched you. 

You popped off him, his cock slapping up against his stomach. You crawled over him, situating your thighs on either side of his face. “Turn around,” he said.

Your heart jumped in your chest as you followed his instruction, your ass and cunt in full view for his greedy eyes. You lowered your body down to take him back into your mouth, and for the first time, his lips met your pussy. He moaned at the taste, his hands coming up to wrap around your legs to pull you even closer to him. You could barely focus on sucking his dick from the pleasure he was giving you. He was quick to tap you lightly on your thigh to snap you out of your trance, though.

His lips latched around you, and he couldn’t believe he hadn’t done this sooner. You were a delicious mixture of salty and sweet; he might even say it was addicting. He let his tongue explore your folds, and each time he moved his head to explore more, you could feel the scruff of the facial hair that was just starting to grow in. It felt like such a sweet burn against your skin, and subconsciously your thighs closed tighter around his face to feel more of it.

You were driving him just as crazy. He was thrusting softly into your mouth on the same tempo you were moving your neck, your throat relaxing in response. You were pulling off him to moan every few seconds, jerking him in your hand. You rolled your tongue over the vein of the underside of his cock, and each time he would twitch in response. 

You were still sensitive from your previous orgasm, and with each flick of Ethan’s tongue, you were pushed closer to your second one. You felt his tongue trail up to your entrance, and then… beyond. Though you were unaccustomed to the feeling, you couldn’t help but moan in response. The sound only encouraged him to continue his exploration, and moments later, his tongue was trailing back to your clit and you felt two fingers; one at each of your holes.

You were shocked at how much you wanted him to fuck both of your holes with his fingers. You whined and popped off him briefly to beg him for it. “Please, daddy.”

You could feel a cocky smirk against your skin as he continued to happily lap at your folds, his fingers pushing into you. They entered you slowly enough that you could adjust to them, but it didn’t take him long before he started moving his fingers in a alternating rhythm with quick flicks of his wrist. He kept a steady pace, and you could feel your oragsm about to hit you.

“I need more,” you said. You gasped as you felt another finger being added to both holes, your mouth hanging open as the warm, familiar feeling spread over your lower abdomen and cunt. Before you knew it, you were cumming again, and with the added pleasure of four of his fingers, you squirted all over his mouth, neck, and chest. 

“Fuck,” you panted as the shocks of pleasure subsided.

“My turn, brat,” he said, tapping your leg to signal you to get off.

You climbed off of him, landing on your back and taking several deep breaths. Ethan stood up and walked to the side of your bed that your head was closest to. Once he was at the edge, he wrapped a hand around your throat and pulled you towards him. He moved his hand to grip your cheeks between his fingers, ensuring he had your full attention.

“Ever been facefucked?” 

“No,” you answered, shaking your head in response as well.

“I think you can handle it. If you need me to stop, just snap your fingers,” he told you, waiting for you to agree. Once you nodded, he let go of your face and brought his cock to your lips.

You opened your mouth for him to enter, your heart thudding wildly in your chest as you prepared yourself for what it might feel like. Ethan slid himself in slowly, and once he reached your throat, he went even slower. He seemed to be testing your gag reflex; lucky for him, you were pretty good at relaxing your throat. He was able to get a decent stroke in before you gagged, a satisfied groan bubbling up from his throat. 

He started to thrust at a steady rhythm, still slow to start with, though, to make sure you were handling it well. His moans started to increase in volume and occurrence, and the sound was being sent straight to your pussy. You could feel yourself start to throb in response, even though you’d already cum twice, you were still craving so much more. 

You brought a hand to the meeting of your thighs, your fingers trailing along the soaked lips of your pussy, a tiny moan escaping you. Your middle finger pressed against the tiny bundle of nerves, moving in circular motions. Ethan noticed you were touching yourself, and the sight had his eyes rolling back. 

Each time he pulled away to let you breathe, you were spitting out all the accumulated saliva in your mouth, which trailed down your face. The action itself was turning you on, and Ethan fucking your tight little throat was only edging you further. You especially felt yourself throb when he started to growl out praises.

“Fuck, I love fucking your throat. Such a good brat,” he said.

The praises were nice, but when he pulled away to admire your saliva-covered face and said, “What a pretty little slut you are,” it was enough to push you over the line again.

Ethan could tell you were about to cum from the way you arched into your own touch, and he could practically feel his cock stiffen even more. He slipped himself back into your mouth, watching you get yourself off with his jaw slack. He started to thrust even faster into your throat, and you forced yourself to take it, and finally, you felt yourself cumming for a third time.

Ethan got to watch as you squirted this time, and he felt the vibrations of your moans on his cock. The sight and the feeling brought him such an intense pleasure that he felt himself cumming. He pulled out of your mouth, allowing his cum to drip down your face and mix with your spit. 

At this point, you were covered in your own spit, his cum, and your lower body was twitching with pleasure. You thought Ethan would never be able to top the last time the two of you had sex, but clearly, you were wrong. To your surprise, Ethan went into your bathroom and brought you some tissues to clean up the majority of the mess on your face.

You sat up to take it, but he held it from you for a minute. “Hold on,” he murmured, his eyes roaming over the damage he’d done.

A smirk spread over his face slowly as he looked at you, a tiny chuckle leaving his mouth. “Beautiful,” he said, finally giving you the tissue. You shook your head at him, but you felt your cheeks warm nevertheless.

You wiped what you could off, then stood and walked to your bathroom. “I’m taking a shower,” you said, watching as Ethan nodded and checked his phone. You figured he would be gone by the time you got out.

You undressed from your tousselled clothes, looking at your face in the mirror. Your makeup was smeared everywhere, there was still quite a bit of saliva and cum all over it, and you looked absolutely destroyed in the best way possible. You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped you as you assessed the state of yourself, turning happily to get into the shower.

Once you were done in the shower, you stepped out, dried off, and went into your room to change into your pajamas. You were expecting Ethan to be gone, so seeing him passed out, under your covers, curled around one of your pillows was a bit of a shock. You stood still for a moment, considering your options. You could wake him up and tell him to leave, but…

Well, he looked comfortable. And your bed was big enough to fit the both of you, so what did it really matter? He would only be staying the night. You were sure he’d be gone before you even woke up. So, you dressed for bed and got under the covers next to him; it felt foreign to be sleeping beside someone again, but you were pretty tired from work and the night’s events, so you drifted off to sleep easily.

To your dismay, Ethan was still beside you when you woke up. You weren’t annoyed, but you were a little nervous. You didn’t know how he would act when he woke up; if there would be awkward conversation, if he would want breakfast, if he would insist on hanging around, if you wanted him to hang around. There were so many ways your morning could go, and not knowing was leaving you on edge.

You were distracted from your thoughts by movements from Ethan beside you. Your eyes drifted over to him, preparing yourself for however he would greet you, but you found he wasn’t awake yet. He was just turning in his sleep, his face now level with yours. 

You’d never truly gotten a good look at this man until now. You were always too busy being pissed at him or you were bent over for him; so you hadn’t had the chance to really look at him. You let your eyes dance over his face, taking in each of his features at a time.

You noticed how soft and fluffy his hair looked. It was clear he took care of it. His forehead was accentuated by bold eyebrows and defined bone structure that seemed to span across the rest of his face. Though his eyes were closed, you could see how his eyes were slightly downturned -- which probably explained how he was able to win you over with just a look. Plus, his eyelashes were long and dark, spread out so gorgeously. His nose was round and soft looking, sort of buttonish. For lack of better term, it was cute -- which felt like a weird word to describe any part of the man who fucked you into your mattress. 

Below his nose were a pair of the softest looking lips you’d ever seen on a man. They were so plump and pink, looking extremely kissable. Surrounding those lips was a growing beard, which looked scruffy and made his strong jaw even more attractive. He had a tiny birthmark on his right cheek, too.

Your eyes kept going back to his lips, focused on how plush and plump they looked. They looked so velvety, and you couldn’t resist your urge to reach out and touch them. You brought your thumb to his lips and ran it along them, and they were just as soft as they appeared. You held your thumb there for a moment, and you were surprised by his lips puckering on it.

You looked back to his eyes out of shock, only to find them lazily open and already on your face. A soft smile formed on his face, and you felt your whole face warm. He stretched, so you let your hand fall away from his mouth. He sleepily rubbed at his eyes, finally opening them again to let them settle on you.

“Like something you see?” he asked, his voice heavy with sleep.

“Shut up,” you laughed, shaking your head at him before starting to sit up. 

He made a sound of disapproval, wrapping his arms around your middle and pulling you towards him. He spooned you from behind, your back pressed against his bare chest. You tensed up, but as his arms settled around you in a warm cuddle, you felt yourself relaxing into his touch. You craned your neck up to look at him, and he took the opportunity to press a kiss to your forehead.

You chuckled at the action, mostly out of disbelief. “Who knew you were such a softie in the mornings?”

“I’m not soft,” he scoffed, but his arms stayed wrapped around you, and his eyes told a different story. 

You just hummed, settling into his hold even more. “What made you stay last night?” you asked curiously.

“I was pretty tired,” he said, and as if on queue, he yawned. 

You nodded, resting your head on his chest. The two of you sat in silence for a few moments, and it was actually nice to just lay with him. Once again, he was surprising you, and you were starting to think there was a lot more to him than whatever front he put up. 

Even if he wanted to deny feeling soft for the moment, you were certain that you were feeling soft, so you turned in his arms to meet his eyes again. You were so captivated by the color of them; not one color, but a few. The sunlight that filtered through your blinds landed on his face and made them brighter, and you caught yourself staring. He didn’t seem to mind, though. He was staring right back at you.

You bit your lip in contemplation, wanting to kiss him but also afraid to make this moment any more intimate than it already was. Though, you figured you were already here, might as well do this while you’re at it. 

You adjusted yourself in his grip so you were able to reach his lips, leaned forward, and pressed your lips against his. Much to your pleasure, he was as gentle as you were. Neither of you were in any rush to get this out. You both seemed to have the same thoughts in mind, even if neither of you wanted to admit anything out loud.

You brought your hands up to his hair, and found it to be as soft as you’d assumed it was. Your fingers threaded themselves through the strands and just played with them instead of pulling or tugging. From the way his grip on your waist tightened, you could tell he was enjoying it. 

Your lips moved together lazily, and your bodies kept the same pace. Though you were getting closer to each other, it was slow -- gradual. Your legs tangled with his, his hands lifted your pajama top and played with the skin on your hips; each touch was gentle and deliberate.

His hand slipped down to your thigh, then continued on to wrap around your leg and hike it up over his hip. He shifted to free himself from his boxers, and since you’d only worn panties to sleep, he slipped them to the side and put himself at your entrance.

“Is this okay?” he asked, voice still gravelly.

You nodded and hummed, preparing for the way he stretched you out. Once he pushed in, you both let out breathy moans, your lips meeting again to bask in the pleasure. He bottomed out, then stayed still for a brief moment. He let his hand fall to your hip again, gripping the skin as he enjoyed how much tighter you felt in this position.

He started to move, your breath coming out in little pants as he rolled his hips into yours. You started to meet his thrusts by shifting your hips forward, making him go even deeper. At this pace and angle, you could feel how big he was with every motion; the ridges and veins of his cock giving you more pleasure than before. 

The pleasure was just as intense for Ethan, too. The tightness of your warm walls and the way you were clutching onto him, trying to bring him closer, was driving him insane. So much so that he felt his orgasm coming on before he wanted it to.

“Fuck,” he gasped, his grip on you tightening even more. “I’m cumming.”

You moaned as you felt his hot cum inside you again, every twitch of his cock bringing you another wave of pleasure. You closed your eyes and let your nails trail over his skin, honestly ready to fall back to sleep for a few more hours.

“You didn’t cum, did you?” he sighed, looking disappointed in himself.

“No, but it’s fine-”

“It’s not fine, lay back.”

“What are you-”

“Just lay back for me,” he ordered, removing his arms from around you.

You reluctantly left his warm embrace to lay on your back, and he settled himself between your legs, his mouth level with your cunt. “Open your mouth,” he said.

You opened your mouth, waiting to see what he was going to do. He stuck his tongue out and leaned his head forward, licking a stripe up from your entrance to your clit, making you moan. He sat up on his knees, his own cum gathered up on his tongue, and crawled up your body to spit it in your mouth. You swallowed it happily, the action alone enough to make your clit throb. The taste of your combined juices drove you insane, and you pulled him back to your mouth for more of the taste, bringing his tongue into your mouth to savor it.

He went back down and repeated the action, bringing his cum up to your mouth until almost all of it was out of you. When he wasn’t able to get any more from you, he stayed down at your pussy and focused on eating you out. Your back was arched into his grip, his tongue working like magic on your clit and between your folds. He alternated between licking you, sucking you, and fucking you with his tongue, which was enough to have you mewling with pleasure and coming undone at his touch.

It was when he shook his head back and forth with his tongue pressed against your clit that you couldn’t hold back anymore. Your head tipped back, your fingers gripping his hair and your hips grinding on his mouth. He pulled you even tighter to him, wanting to draw out your high for as long as he could. He stayed there, kitten-licking you until your body relaxed and he knew you were spent.

He crawled over you again, letting his body cover yours as he leaned down to kiss you. Tasting yourself on his lips was an added bonus to the tender touch of his kiss, and when you felt his erection against your thigh, you giggled.

“Round two?” you asked, moving your legs to try to wrap them around him.

He laughed in return, but sighed. “I wish I could, but I gotta get back before Gray gets annoyed. I have plans with him today.”

You were disappointed, but nodded your head in understanding, letting your legs relax. 

He smirked at you, kissing you once more before standing. He got dressed while you laid in your sheets, just watching him. It still felt strange how different he was this morning, but you couldn’t say you didn’t like it. Still, you were curious.

“What was with the change of pace?” you asked, making him look up from his task of getting his belt in the loops.

He shrugged, seeming to think it over in his mind before answering. “Maybe I was a little soft,” he chuckled.

“Yeah, but why?”

He shrugged again, this time not looking up from his task. “I can be real nice when you aren’t pissing me off,” he smirked, finally getting it through the loops and looking back at you. 

You rolled your eyes and stood up, slipping your panties back on and grabbing a pair of shorts to wear around the house. He chuckled again, pulling his shirt over his head. “There’s my brat,” he said affectionately, and although there was sarcasm in his statement, it didn’t fail to make you feel special. You sort of liked the title.

He checked his hair in your mirror and seemed to decide he was happy with his appearance. He turned to you an opened his arms wide, a small smile decorating his face. You smiled back, walking into his embrace and letting him kiss you goodbye. 

“Try not to ignore my texts this time around,” he said, winking at you as he left your bedroom.

“We’ll see,” you teased, but in reality, you knew you wouldn’t be. 

You felt like there was a whole side to Ethan that was only just emerging, and you couldn’t lie to yourself and say you didn’t like it. He was growing on you -- dominance, cockiness, rudeness, and all the rest. Even if you wouldn’t admit it out loud yet.

Even as Ethan left your apartment to head back to his place, he knew he wouldn’t be letting you slip between his fingers. You may have gotten under his skin, but you seemed to fit there. And it seemed that he could fuck the attitude out of you, which he was starting to love doing. You were his little brat, and he didn’t have any plans to let that go any time soon.