#i have a naming convention with these guys as you can see

[heechwe]

one more night | 𝐦𝐣𝐡

୨୧ pairing: myung jaehyun x fem!reader ୨୧ word count: 2.1k ୨୧ genre: smut ୨୧ tags: forbidden romance, friends(?) with benefits, ceo!jaehyun, ceo!reader, spanking, degradation, oral (m receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie. ୨୧ synopsis: You tell yourself it will be the last time you commisserate with the enemy every time you leave him. But, like magnets, you always come back to each other in spite of every instinct telling you to walk away. ➸ Request from spider anon via this ask! I hope you love it like I do! Shoutout also to my friends @lovetaroandtaemin and @loserlvrss for beta-reading and dealing with my ass writing this story ilysm 🤍

Any excuse to run across Jaehyun reminds you why you’re such a good liar. Both in life and in business, it’s a good skill to have in order to hold a lot of things together. Jaehyun isn't one to conceal much of anything, though. Maybe that’s why you both can’t stand each other sixty percent of the time, your rigidness the perfect clash with his care-free nature. The guy holds a title you worked for forever while he seemed to earn it with the flick of his wrist. 

Your families didn’t share fuzzy feelings either. Your parents and his on paper seemed to be a match made in heaven, your hotel monopoly the counterpart to a chain of popular restaurants in the city. But it was anything but, unfortunately. The lack of similar business interests and practices as well as their disproportionate dispositions made it a pain to get together every time there was a dinner party or business convention with both of your companies on the ticket.

Like tonight, the expo for the new release of stocks for many companies is another standoff between your respective parties. You have to hold yourself back from sharing any words of encouragement or conversation that paints Jaehyun and his company in a good light without being rude. In truth, you could care less about the hotels right now, flitting your gaze to the ballroom doors to see the one person who drives you insane.

You refuse to admit the red dress you’re wearing is meant to show off your neckline just for him. You did not put on an extra spritz of perfume that he likes to make his head spin. You don’t wish the executives you’re talking with right now would walk away so you could find the man himself.

Of course he saunters in the room when he lingers on your mind, walking past the many gray suits without much care for his late entrance. His three-piece suit exaggerates the lines of his body in a way that irritates you and turns you on in the same breath. He shakes the hands of the stakeholders with a shit-eating grin and glides near you with a hand on the small of your back, determined to shake your resolve without saying a word.

It’s his nature to get under your skin with something as simple as the light graze of his fingertips. He loves to see you flustered until you’re begging and pleading, the actions completely against your normal character. You’ll never bow down to any man or woman in the world to get what you want, but for Jaehyun, he seems to be the only exception to the rule.

Of course, you’ll never admit that, playing it off as simple carnal desire and nothing more. You deny the heat pressing into your body the longer his hand lingers on the back of your dress, his thumb and forefinger playing with the zipper.

He says your name as he toys with your emotions further, the rest of the company around you going back to their casual conversations about trips abroad and business deals. “We need to discuss the merger. We can excuse ourselves for fifteen minutes, don’t you think?”

Sanctimonious prick.

He can barely hold himself together by the time you make it off the elevator together and walk in the direction of the room. He strings you up against the hallway wall, his hand immediately hiking up your skirt and his lips clinging to your neck.

“You love this. You love messing with my head,” he grunts, taking your underwear in his fingers and dragging them down your legs. He could give a shit less if anyone were to leave their room to find the scene playing out in front of them. In his mind, three days has been torture. Any more and he would’ve exploded.

He has to make it known how much pain he has been in, and he has every intention of returning his torment with the same vigor.

“Hyunie,” you whisper, the words about to leave your mouth as hollow as his preservation for your dignity. “Not here.”

“You don’t care,” he responds. The pad of his thumb easily finds your clit under your dress, rubbing circles into the center of your legs without stumbling on his words. “Everyone downstairs could see me fucking you and all that would matter to you is if you got off. And you know it.”

You moan into his mouth when he licks the roof of yours with his tongue. His fingers still dance in the pool at your center, your underwear clenched in his other hand pressed against the wall.

“Please fuck me, Jaehyun,” you beg, tugging on his pants as he continues with his thumb and forefinger bordering the walls of your cunt. The strain of his cock in the fabric is obvious, the outline of it making your mouth water.

He smirks, holding his bottom lip between his teeth. “Not before I feel that beautiful mouth on me, baby.”

By the time Jaehyun slides the keycard against the door mechanism and lets you both inside, you have him pressed to the other side of the door in record time. It takes only another second for the underside of your tongue to meet the tip of his cock. He barely had time to pull his pants down before you were taking him in your mouth, but he loves to see you like this, lust-drunk and impatient.

Just because you’re a good liar doesn’t mean you’re good at practicing delayed gratification.

Sure, you may not like him a good portion of the time. But now, with his hand violently wrapped in your hair, ruining the curls you spent an hour working on so he can fuck your face, you think you may die if you don’t feel him inside of you soon.

You gag around him when the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat. Tears pool in your eyes, but the sound of his moans and the way he slides between your lips is indescribable.

“Fuck, this mouth was made for me, you know that?” He groans, lovingly holding your cheek with the palm that isn’t wrapped in your hair. “My perfect little whore.”

You hum and continue letting him abuse your throat. His body trembles at the endorphins rushing through it, and he hasn’t even come yet.

Jaehyun pulls his cock out of your mouth abruptly, making you whine in confusion. He pulls you up by the hands, a knowing smile plastered across his face. Your knees burn from the friction against the carpet, but the force of his kiss makes you forget any feeling that isn’t pleasurable. The rest doesn’t seem to matter much at the moment; only him and his effects on your being take precedence in your mind.

“Y’know I love coming in your mouth, but I want your pussy more.” He takes you to the bed and motions for you to get on all fours once your dress and high heels are discarded in a corner of the room.

He lands a hard smack against your ass, rubbing the skin as you whimper into the pillows underneath you. “You’re such a bad girl. Acting like you don’t want me, yet you’re hungry to have my cock filling you up every time you see me.” He takes his other hand to press his fingers inside of you. “My little brat, too proud to admit she loves being my little fucktoy, huh?”

You shake your head and stuff your face further into the pillow. You arch your back only for Jaehyun to spank you a second, third, and fourth time. He doesn’t take his fingers out of your heat even as he hits you, but each bout of contact with your ass and his palm is harder than the last.

“Don’t lie to me, baby. You know I hate it when you do that.” A fifth smack meets your ass, and you almost press your whole body flat onto the bed, the pain and pleasure too much to absorb at once.

“I love it, Jaehyun, I do. I love being yours,” you gasp, legs shaking. Your body stretches the coil inside of you tighter, unsure when will be the exact moment you fall apart.

Jaehyun doesn’t make you wonder for too long. “Prove it. Come on my fingers, baby. Let go.”

He presses a kiss to your reddened skin as you come undone, the orgasm ripping through your energy without mercy. Your legs are limp and unable to hold you up any longer when you come back to reality.

That doesn’t mean the devilish man who’s caused you so much satisfaction is done.

“On your back, baby. It’ll make it easier.”

He hooks one leg across his waist, holding it tenderly as he slips inside of you. He groans at the feeling of finally entering you, your walls still drenched from your previous arousal. He doesn’t push you further than necessary though, his pace languid but purposeful.

“You look so beautiful like this,” he moans, his sounds reverberating through the room. Your body is completely at his will, the aftershocks of your orgasm leaving you spent to an unfathomable degree. All that’s left for you to give are weak whimpers of ecstasy. “So fucked out because of me,” he continues, suddenly picking up the pace.

“Are you gonna make me come again, Hyunie?” You ask, eyes half-lidded. Your body is on a slow crawl to a second release. But if Jaehyun has anything to say about it, he’ll make you orgasm before he does, like usual.

He may be full of himself, but he’s a giver.

He runs his thumb into your slick again, drawing swirls into your clit. You cry out at the feeling, him penetrating the deepest parts of you while touching the motherboard to your nerves so effortlessly. Why did he know how to get under your skin and also burn it alive?

With all of your strength, you lift your hips up to meet Jaehyun’s. He grunts as your skin meets his, his thrusts more powerful with your added effort.

“I’m gonna come, baby,” Jaehyun warns, slamming harder into you as his release comes closer to fruition.

“Me too, Hyunie,” you respond to him, the words becoming lilts of air as he pounds into you mercilessly. This orgasm is different from the first one, your body in silent surrender as the pleasure overtakes you. The only physical response you have is your slackened jaw.

“Fucking shit,” Jaehyun curses, your cunt tightening around him beautifully from your release. It pushes him into his own, his seed filling you with mind-blowing warmth.

Some of it spills out of you when you separate, but he plunges it back in with his fingers slowly. He kisses your stomach as you buck up from the sensitivity. “Easy, baby. Don’t want any of it going to waste, do we?”

Like clockwork, your satiated thoughts from pleasure become ones of humor at his ridiculous ways of claiming you for his own.

Your legs are intertwined with Jaehyun’s on the bed, the fuzzy robe you stole from the bathroom covering your body. Jaehyun is sitting up against the headboard, wearing nothing but his briefs. He says nothing but stares intently as he strokes your thigh, your focus on stuffing your face with ice-cream.

Jaehyun went downstairs shortly after he crawled off of you, even apologizing personally for you and giving an excuse of not feeling well enough to stay at the conference. Normally, you would be fine going back downstairs without a second thought. Tonight, however, seems to be different in a way you can’t pin down. Something inside of your heart has shifted, more than you thought possible.

It doesn’t help that he came back upstairs with your favorite desserts. He walked in with a bashful grin, candy and ice-cream littered across the metal tray. “Extra cherries for your sundae, right?”

Now, looking at him, the weight of all the lies you told yourself before seems unnecessary to carry any longer. Would it be so bad to admit he was annoying but also endearing?

You turn from your vanilla ice cream to look at him for the first time in forever. His mouth opens for a spoonful of your dessert, his eyes lit with glee at the prospect of you sharing with him. And you do, your heart too swollen with affection to say no.

This may be uncharted territory, but maybe it’ll be easier if you’re honest. And the truth is simple: the bane of your existence may very well be your perfect match.

@yvnempire @sjylouvre @mini-mews @jayparked @heesuncore @yoursjaeyun @sungbeams @jenoslutie @loserlvrss @pars-ley @lovetaroandtaemin @wonwovy

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 ౨ৎ˚₊

@kstrucknet @k-films @kvanity-main @sweetvenomnet @onedoornet @sayxonet @violetanet @svthub @whipped-kpop-creators

[flamestar1031]

really wanted to draw my main guys from the sci fi mmos I play together so have this fun poster!

[baekuras]

Because I am lazy with reinventing stuff I have been looking at some fallen angels (mostly Watchers because there is a list) and it's so funny to me that there is/was an angel around to "Cure the stupidity of men" Like thanks I need no more

also there was one guy which bascially was a constellation myth for Orion and he and Azazel(/Lucifer/Satan/whoever pointed Eve to the apple) were punished by hanging out between Heaven and Earth...forever or a long time but that got me to think...this would mean that (insert name of whoever tempted Eve in YOUR specific texts) is also a constellation, and if it's Lucifer it'd be the Morning Star which from what I remember either refers to Venus OR the brightest Star in the Sky aka Sirius aka part of Canis Major aka the constellation right next to Orion Fallen Angel shenanigans in the Sky? it's more likely than you think

also smth smth them being turned into Constellations and humanity using Fallen Angels, aka the givers of forbidden knowledge (you know..like reading and stuff) to navigate smth smth

[criminalamnesia]

Stay

warnings: enemies to friends, hinted enemies to lovers, Tyler’s sister!reader, mean!scott, bickering, very real tornado danger, mentions of a car crash and physical injuries, not proofread, f!reader

summary: the three time you see storm par’s one and only scott, including the one in which he saves your life.

author’s note: look at me, finally writing something again! I’ve been extremely busy and, truthfully, in a writers slump. I started writing this after seeing twisters, and I just got the motivation to come back and finish it. I’ve been obsessed with this man since that movie, and good lord do we need more fics of him. anyways, enjoy! (also, for my traitor fans— I haven’t forgotten about you! I hope to work on the next part soon!)

the first time you’d seen scott, you’d wanted to break his jaw, and you hadn't even gotten his name.

“get lost on the way to the hillbilly convention?”

his tone is snarky, his eyes full of disdain as he watched you slide out of tyler’s truck.

your eyes had widened, your spine straightening as you registered his unprovoked hostility.

“the fuck is your problem?” you ask, eyes narrowing as you come back to your senses. you look him up and down, huffing a laugh at his clothes.

“you look like you’re going to a fuckin’ business meeting.” you say, coming to a stop in front of him. your cowboy boots dig into the dirt, and the sun beats down on your face.

perfect day for storm chasing, as your brother had said. darkening clouds rolled in the distance, and the wind was steadily picking up. according to lilly's drone data and tyler's instincts, your first chase would occur sometime within the next few hours.

you had been away at college when tyler’s tornado-chasing YouTube channel took off. you’d always loved the thrill of being close to the storms, but even when you came home to visit during summers, tyler refused to let you tag along.

until now, that is. now that you’ve graduated with a degree in meteorology, just like him. he had always accused you of wanting to follow in his footsteps.

“don’t mind storm par over there,” comes your brother’s drawl as he appears beside you, a hand coming down to rest on your shoulder. “the stick up his ass seems to have been lodged a little deeper recently. you’ll get used to it,” tyler grins, barking a laugh at the brunette's scowl.

"haven't seen you before," another man moves to stand beside the brunette. he's also wearing storm par gear, and you watch as him and the taller man share an unreadable glance.

"she's new," tyler responds for you, his wide grin still present as he acknowledges the shorter man with the tip of his hat.

"i'd run while you can, sweetheart," the taller one says, a look of pity in his eyes as he looks back to you. "fucking him isn't worth dying over."

you stare at the man for a moment before bursting into laughter. the storm par pair's eyes both widen, their stares moving from your hysterics, to tyler's rolled eyes, and then to each other.

"you two are supposed to be scientists, huh? the guys who are gonna 'tame tornadoes?'" you throw the last two words in air quotes as your laughter subsides.

the shorter of the two men nods, while the taller opens his mouth once more. "that's right. while you morons are out trying to get yourselves killed, we'll be busy doing shit that actually matters."

"right, right," you nod along, glee shining in your eyes as you stare at the taller one. "you must be so smart, then. where'd you get your degree?"

"MIT," he says smugly, popping the gum in his mouth.

"MIT, wow," you whistle, your eyes finding your brother's. tyler just shakes his head, trying and failing to suppress his laughter.

"you got a degree from MIT, and you're too stupid to tell that he-" you jab a finger towards tyler. "is my fucking brother?"

the man's smug grin instantly falls as his eyes scan you, then tyler, and then fall back onto you. tyler steps forward, smacking a hand on the man's shoulder with a laugh.

"meet my little sister, storm par. may not have gotten a degree from MIT," he says, tipping his cowboy hat to you. you mime tipping an invisible hat back at him. "but she seems to be a hell of a lot smarter than you."

the second time you see scott, you still don't learn his name.

"jesus christ, this thing is huge!" you yelp as tyler swerves the truck back onto the dirt road. he scowls as the storm par truck ahead of him jerks back and forth on the path, blocking his approach.

"how's the wind lookin'?" he asks, his words clipped as his hands grip the wheel tighter. wheat fields ripple on both sides of the road, an ocean of tan as the sky continues to darken.

"pickin' back up," you tell him, glancing down at the laptop in your lap. it was displaying real-time data of the atmospheric conditions. the software had cost a pretty penny, but had been worth it. plus, it had been more than covered by tyler's t-shirt sales. cheesy or not, tyler’s face on a shirt was worth his weight in gold to his followers.

tyler groans as the white truck in front of him cuts him off again.

"ty, just go around!" you yell at him, your eyes widening as you stare out of the passenger side window. the clouds overhead were beginning to swirl.

"i'm tryin' to drive nice," he tells you through gritted teeth. "don't wanna make you sick-" he begins, but you roll your eyes and reach over, jerking the wheel. the car swerves off the road and into the ditch beside it, and tyler scrambles to avoid hitting a wire fence as he swats at your hand.

"what the fuck?!" he yells at you, his eyes cutting to you for a second before focusing back on the road.

"stop tryin' to baby me!" you tell him. "show these storm par pricks what we're made of."

tyler falls silent, clearly debating his next move. you're about to grab the wheel again when his foot slams down on the gas and the truck lurches forward. you cheer, throwing a fist in the air as you laugh with glee.

"just don't tell mom!" he says to you, laughing along.

as the truck speeds forwards, tyler lets off the gas just enough to keep speed with the storm par truck. you lean past him to get a look into the cab, and there's the brunette you'd had the displeasure of meeting a few days ago.

you can see his scowl from here, and your grin is wide as you hold your middle finger up, waving it around to make sure he couldn't miss it. his scowl deepens, and before he can even think of responding to the gesture, tyler hits the gas again.

"what was that for?" your brother asks as you lean back into you seat.

you shrug. "just havin' fun."

the third time you see scott, he saves your life.

it's a week after the middle-finger incident. although storm par and your brother's wranglers have been following the same storms, you haven't had the pleasure of bothering the tall brunette, much less seeing him. you’d caught glimpses, but he seemed to be keeping his distance. you supposed he’d finally grown tired of your constant teasing.

you don't know why you find yourself caring. he's an asshole. an asshole who hates you, your brother, and everything the two of you stand for. who constantly underestimates and looks down on you.

and yet you miss his scowl and the unmistakable pop of his bubblegum.

"hey, you okay over there?" boone asks as he leans over the center console, his head peeking out between the two front seats. you know the question is directed at you, as boone is watching you like a hawk.

"yeah, fine," you shrug, your eyebrows furrowed as you lean down, getting closer to the screen of your laptop.

"ty, turn the music down for a sec," you tell him, and he listens without protest. a rare occurrence, but now wasn't the time for bickering.

what had first appeared to be a measly EF1 had begun to grow. it wasn't dying out, and things were starting to get scarily real as moisture kept feeding into the funnel miles ahead of you.

"this thing isn't stopping," you tell the two men. "you need to tell the rv to turn around. hell, we should turn around."

boone shakes his head, leaning further into your space. his eyes scan your computer screen, and although he's learned a lot from tyler, he still doesn't see what you see.

"nah, it's gonna be fine. ty said it's gonna die out anyways, right? we just need to get in it before it does."

"boone," you warn, turning in your seat to face him. "love you, but shut the fuck up right now." you reach out a hand and grip tyler's arm.

"ty, I mean it."

rain starts pelting the windshield. you can hear the wind howling outside of the truck, and you shudder as hail begins to pound against metal.

tyler mumbles something under his breath as he kicks the windshield wipers up to maximum speed. "you sure?" he finally says.

he turns to look at you as you nod, and those precious seconds are all it takes for the world to spin on its axis.

a fence post slams through the windshield as rain and hail continue to obscure the world around you. you scream and tyler jerks the wheel out of instinct. the truck turns sharply, running off the road. your stomach drops as the truck drops and rises again- your own personal rollercoaster from hell.

"tyler!" you yell, gripping the straps of the harness holding you in.

"workin' on it!" he responds, jerking the wheel the other way. the truck rights itself back on the road, and you close your eyes as adrenaline rushes through your veins.

fuck, the others-

"boone, tell the others to turn around now!" you yell at him, and he's nodding frantically from his seat in the back, his hands fumbling for the walkie talkie in the floor.

"so much for an EF1!" tyler says, and although his tone sounds easy, his face betrays him. you can see the glimpse of fear in his eyes. it mirrors your own.

"yeah, ri-" you begin, but the sentence never fully forms.

you black out as another car slams into the passenger side of the truck.

"c'mon, get up!"

everything feels fuzzy. your head is pounding, and your ears are ringing. pain shoots through your body, engulfing every inch of skin. you think something has to be broken, judging from the numbness you feel on the right side of your body.

"get up!"

your eyes begin to crack open, but your vision is blurry. someone is a few feet in front of you, but you can't make out who it is.

"for fuck's sake-" the voice growls, and you can just hear the faint crunching of glass before your hearing comes back in full force.

the wind is an unbearable howl, and the rain and hail pounding down around you make hearing your own thoughts almost impossible-

your thoughts. what had happened? one second, you're driving and then-

fuck. tyler. boone. where were they?

your eyes shoot open, your body jerking against the harness still keeping you strapped to the leather passenger seat.

you look to your left- to the driver's side- but tyler isn't there. you try to turn you head to see into the back, but a sharp pain in your neck quickly stops you.

"tyler?!" you yell, but your voice is carried off by the wind. you can't even hear your own words.

"boone?!"

"they're fine!" a voice calls to you, and your gaze shoots back to the driver's side. you can see a man crouching by the driver's now blown-out window— which is upside down.

you were upside down. the truck had rolled with the impact of whatever had hit you. everything comes back with devastating clarity, and even though adrenaline pumps through your veins, the pain is beginning to become unbearable.

“can you move?” the voice says. you can’t tell who it is through the spots in your vision and the sheets of rain still coming down.

“I-” you start, pushing your chest against the harness. “I think so.”

“good,” you recognize it as a man’s voice. “then hurry the fuck up and get out!”

under different circumstances, you would’ve scoffed at the order, but now wasn’t the time for defiance. your life was literally on the line, and if you didn’t get to shelter before the tornado engulfed you—

well, you didn’t want to think about that.

you force your brain to gather itself, directing your thoughts toward moving your aching limbs. your left arm is the only one that responds, coming to fumble with the metal buckles of the harness.

the first one unclasps and you swear you could cry from relief.

“any day now!” the man calls, and you can’t help but roll your eyes. you reach your left hand across your torso, working at the clasp on your right side.

“im trying!” you call back. once you get it undone, your arms fall downward as gravity claims them. you groan in pain as your right arm shifts. something is definitely broken, but you can’t afford to give into the pain at the moment.

you reach for the lap belt, tugging at it with a shaking hand. the wind continues to howl around you, and you feel tears pricking the corners of your eyes. hopelessness begins to eat away at you as you try and try again to undo the lap belt, to no avail.

“it’s stuck!” you call out, hoping the man can hear you. “I can’t get out!”

your breathing is picking up. your chest feels tight, and the feeling you still have in your left hand ebbs as you begin to panic.

you don’t want to die. you know that. it scares you shitless.

but you don’t want anyone else to die, either.

you’re stuck. whoever is outside of the truck isn’t. he should run while he can—

“hold on!” you’re jarred from your thoughts as a figure begins to crawl through the hole left by the blown-out window, and that’s when you register your savior.

it’s him, the brunette from storm par. the man who belittled you, who rolled his eyes at every sentence you spoke, and who you somehow found yourself missing.

he’s crawling into the cab, his arms no doubt suffering cuts from the shattered glass littering his path. “I’ve got you,” he calls to you, and when your eyes meet his, there’s no look of disdain. there’s thinly veiled terror.

“you need to leave me,” you tell him, and you can’t tell if the wetness on your face is from your tears or the rain that’s now blowing sideways into the destroyed truck.

“shut the fuck up,” he tells you, groaning as he slices his forearm on a jagged piece of metal.

“im serious,” you reply, your left hand still fumbling with the belt restraining you. “I can’t feel my right side—”

“will you shut up? please?” he heaves out, his face inches from yours now as he reaches for the lap belt.

you fall silent, but not because you’re heeding his demands. no, you’re too busy examining his face. he’s never been this close to you, and you’re taking in every little detail before death comes to sweep you up.

can’t blame a girl for wanting to gawk at a handsome man in her final minutes, can you?

“stop staring at me,” he grits out, his forearm flexing as he tugs at the lap belt. something has the fabric trapped, and although he’s freeing it inch by inch, you’re not sure if—

the belt gives, and his arms leave your lap to cushion your fall, protecting your head from slamming into the metal below you.

he doesn’t say anything, but you watch as his gaze flits over your right side. stone cold as ever, his expression gives nothing away regarding your physical state. you can’t bring yourself to look down.

“im gonna pull you out, okay?” he says, and you absently nod your head. the pain is heavier now— harder to push away. your vision swims as he hooks his arms under yours and shuffles back on his knees.

agony spreads through your thoughts as the numbness gives way to excruciating pain. your eyelids flutter, but the man doesn’t stop. he grunts as he pulls you forward again, slowly but surely removing you from the truck.

“you need to leave me,” you tell him again, your teeth biting into your bottom lip to stifle a scream of pain. “im not going to be able to walk. I’ll just slow you down—”

“jesus christ, you don’t listen, do you? im not leaving you here to die.”

he finally makes his way out of the wreckage, pulling you with him. once you’re free of the ruined truck, he stands on shaky legs— fighting to maintain balance as the wind whips across his figure. he reaches down, scooping you up in his bloody arms, and starts to run as best he can. the rain is so thick you can’t even see a foot in front of you, let alone where he’s taking you.

lightning cracks overhead, followed by thunder so loud it shakes your shattered bones. your head tilts up to the sky, and you watch in horror at what was once an EF1 tornado races toward you. it’s got to be an EF4 by now— maybe even a 5 based off its sheer size.

“drop me!” you screech, your working hand clutching the soaked fabric of his storm par shirt.

if he hears you, he pays you no mind as he continues to struggle against the wind.

with your eyes focused on the impending doom behind you, you don’t even realize when he reaches his destination. he jumps down into a deep ditch, and you hear him groan as his feet hit the ground. he must be hurt, too.

“is she alright?” a voice calls, and your eyes widen as boone comes into view, a large cut across his forehead that looks like it definitely needs stitches.

“not the time!” the storm par man shouts, ducking behind your friend. your eyes catch boone’s over his shoulder, and you give your fellow storm chaser a weak wink. boone’s lips crack into a wide smile, even amidst this horrible storm.

the brunette carrying you falls to his knees, laying your back against muddied dirt. he refuses to let you go, his arms cradling you against his chest as he shelters you with his own body. there’s nothing to hold onto except for him, and you know if the tornado gets any closer, you’ll both be goners.

you close your eyes tightly, welcoming your end despite your overwhelming fear— but it never comes.

you pry your eyes open as the sounds of wind and rain finally begin to subside. the body above yours still clutches you tightly.

“are we alive?” your voice comes out a whisper. your left hand flexes against the man’s chest, and sure enough, it meets a solid body. he’s not an imagination— he’s real. you’re still here.

“yes,” his chest rumbles with the words, and his arms slowly snake out from under you as he sits back on his haunches. his eyes are locked on yours, his icy blues unreadable as he watches your face.

you don’t say anything for a moment. and then,

“you’re the stupidest son of a bitch I’ve ever met.”

his eyes widen in surprise, and his stern facade cracks for the first time— at least, that you’ve seen— and he chuckles.

the bubble surrounding you two quickly pops as tyler’s voice meets your ears. you turn your head and there he is— your brother, running towards you with relief written all over his face.

“oh, thank god,” he says, throwing himself to his knees and scooping you up in a hug. you hiss in pain and he pulls back, his hands on your shoulders as he looks you up and down with a grimace.

“you took the worst of it. those storm par pricks—” his eyes cut to your savior, who is still sitting nearby, watching the two of you. “hit us. you and boone were knocked out, and you were stuck, so I got him first and was coming back, but—”

“ty,” you interrupt, your left hand landing atop one of his. “it’s okay. im okay. we’re okay.”

tyler takes a deep breath and nods, his eyes flitting back down your body, focusing on your right leg. you follow his gaze, grimacing at the unnatural twist of the limb. no wonder it had gone numb.

“I’ve had worse,” you tell him, taking notice of your limp, lacerated right arm.

“now’s not the time to play hero,” your brother chastises, standing up before reaching down and picking you up. your eyes meet your savior’s once more. he’s standing now, too, his arms crossed over his chest as he matches your gaze.

“guess we owe you a thanks, clipboard. and you owe us a new truck.” tyler says, to which the brunette rolls his eyes.

“ty,” you roll your eyes, too, as you keep your gaze locked with the brunette’s. “ignore my brother. thank you for saving my life….” you trail off, realizing, truly realizing for the first time that you don’t know his name.

“scott.” he tells you. you nod.

“thank you, scott.”

he nods back, turning his back to you as he starts to limp back to the road your vehicles had been abandoned at. you doubted they would still be there.

just as you’re about to look away from his retreating form, he glances over his shoulder and gives you a true, sweetly small, smile.

maybe storm par isn’t so bad after all.

[kaninchen-reblogs]

mildly saddened that there isn’t a snappy word like girl/guy that works for non-binary folks, like the closest thing is enby but that has the wrong vibe…. like if you say “I’m just a little guy” it’s funny and a good meme but if you say “I’m just a little enby” then all kinds of awful phobic people crawl out of the sewer to beat you to death with their fists

[iamumbra195]

School Bus Graveyard incorrect quotes because I'm bored

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Taylor: Look how creepy it is looking down this hallway.

Ashlyn: I'm gonna get vertigo.

Aiden: I'm a Virgo!

Tyler, deadpan: No, you're a virgin.

...

Aiden: You lying, cheating, piece of shit!

Tyler: Oh yeah? You’re the idiot who thinks you can get away with everything you do. WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD

Aiden: I’m leaving you, and I’M TAKING ASHLYN WITH ME

Logan, picking up the monopoly board: I think we’re gonna stop playing now.

...

Taylor: Why is Tyler so upset?

Logan: He took one of those “Which Character Are You?” quizzes

Taylor: And...?

Logan: He got Aiden.

...

Ashlyn: What did you do with the phantom's body?

Aiden: What didn’t I do with the body?

Everyone:

Aiden: Okay, that sounded more sexual than I intended. I disposed of the phantom respectfully.

...

Aiden: Here’s a fun Christmas idea. We hang mistletoe, but instead of kissing, you have to FIGHT whoever else is under it.

Logan: Aiden, no.

Ben, with text to speech: Mistlefoe.

Logan: Please stop encouraging him.

...

Taylor: Who thinks I can fit 15 marshmallows in my mouth?

Tyler: You’re a hazard to society

Aiden: And a coward. DO TWENTY.

...

Emma, trying to be nice to Ashlyn's new friends: Would you like to stay for dinner?

Mike, excited for his daughter: WOULD YOU LIKE TO STAY FOREVER?

...

Logan: What's a word thats a mix between 'sad' and 'mad'?

Ben: Disgruntled, miserable, desolated-

Aiden: Smad.

...

Ashlyn: Why are you on the floor?

Aiden: I'm depressed.

Aiden: Also I was stabbed, can you get Ben, please.

...

Taylor: Aiden and I were crossing the street, and this dude drove by and honked at us

Ashlyn, sighing: What did he do?

Taylor: he chased him to the next red light, then reached into his window and...

Aiden: Who wants a steering wheel?

...

Aiden: If I accidentally sat on a voodoo doll of myself, would I be trapped forever in that position, doomed to starve to death?

Logan: How am I supposed to know?

Tyler: You say that as if we don’t use you as a source of knowledge of the occult.

Logan: ...You wouldn't be trapped.

...

Ashlyn: Tyler, keep an eye on Aiden today. He's going to say something to the wrong person and get punched.

Tyler: Sure, I’d love to see him get punched.

Ashlyn: Try again.

Tyler, sighing: I will stop Aiden from getting punched.

...

Aiden, holding a python: Guys I impulsively bought a snake, what do I name him

Tyler: You did WHAT–

Ben: William Snakespeare

...

Ashlyn: Dandelions symbolize everything I want to be in life

Taylor: Fluffy and dead with a gust of wind?

Ashlyn: Unapologetic. Hard to kill. Feral, filled with sunlight, bright, beautiful in a way that the conventional and controlling hate but cannot ever fully destroy. Stubborn. Happy. Bastardous. Friends with bees. Highly disapproving of lawns. Full of wishes that will be carried far after I die.

Aiden: edible

...

Taylor, whispering to Aiden, who’s on the phone with Ashlyn: Ask her something!

Aiden: How are you feeling?

Ashlyn: Fine.

Taylor: Something personal!

Aiden: At what age did you start hearing voices?

...

Aiden: If I die, my funeral is going to be the biggest party ever and you’re all invited

Logan: If?

Tyler: Great, the only party I’d actually go to and he might not even die.

...

Logan: We need a distraction.

Ashlyn: Is anyone here good at jumping up and down and making weird noises?

Aiden, whispering: My time has come

...

Tyler: Where are you going?

Taylor: To get ice cream or commit a felony, I’ll decide on the way there

Tyler: I'll come with

...

Mike, buying a whole bag of knives, guns and other weapons like he's going to war on a random Tuesday: I can explain

Jacob (shop owner): Can you?

Mike: If you give me thirty seconds to think of a lie.

...

Taylor: Heads up, if you try to make a candle with food colouring, it will just sink to the bottom of the glass, and when the flame eventually reaches the bottom all the food colouring will catch fire and become one giant tall flame that you cannot possibly blow out and the glass will start to crack and then you'll throw your tea on it in a panic and then the extremely hot food colouring will boil and sizzle horribly and then the glass will shatter.

Tyler, sighing: What did you do?

Taylor, wailing: A MISTAKE

...

Mr. Thomas: What are your goals?

Ashlyn: To pet all the dogs.

Mr. Thomas: No, I meant your goals for this trip.

Ashlyn: To pet all the dogs in Savannah.

...

Logan: Is letting someone win at chess sapiosexual bottoming?

Ashlyn: Does anyone in this godforsaken group ever think before they speak?

...

Taylor: Aiden isn’t answering their phone

Ashlyn: I’ll call

Taylor: Ben and I have both tried six times each, what makes you thi-

Aiden: Hello?

...

Aiden: I was arrested for being too cool.

Tyler: The charges were dropped due to a lack of supporting evidence.

...

Aiden: Jail is no fun. I’ll tell you that much

Taylor: You’ve been to jail?

Aiden: Once. In Monopoly.

...

Mike: You love me, right?

Emma: Normally, I’d say yes without hesitation, but I feel like this is going somewhere and I don’t like it.

...

Aiden: Let’s watch Sharkboy and Lavagirl.

Ashlyn: Okay

Aiden: And make out during the scary parts.

Ashlyn: The-

Ashlyn: The scary parts?

Ashlyn: Of Sharkboy and Lavagirl.

...

Ashlyn: How petty can you get?

Tyler: I once edited a Wikipedia article to win an argument I was wrong about.

Taylor: I KNEW IT-

...

Aiden: I've already sent good vibes your way… they’re coming. There’s nothing you can do to stop them.

Logan: This is the most threatening way I’ve ever been cheered up.

...

Mike: So what’s for dinner?

Emma, staring at the food she just burnt: Regret.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

That's all for today!

[felikatze]

ISAT and Ludonarrative Harmony: Combat is a Storytelling Tool

Or: How Siffrin is stuck in the endgame grind, forever

Please Note: This is primarily aimed at an audience that already played In Stars and Time, because I am bad at explaining things, and it's good to already know what the fuck I'm talking about. I tend to only bring up game elements as I want to talk about them.

Spoilers for.... all of ISAT! Especially Act 5!

(image to show how i feel posting this and as an attention grabber over my wall of text)

To pull a definition of ludonarrative harmony out of a hat, game writer Lauryn Ash defines it as follows:

Ludonarrative harmony is when gameplay and story work together to create a meaningful and immersive experience. From a design implementation perspective, it is the synchronized interactions between in-game actions (mechanics) and in-world context (story).

It is, generally speaking, how well game mechanics work hand in hand with the story. I, personally, think ISAT is an absolute masterclass of it, so I want to take a look at how ISAT specifically uses its battle system to emphasize Siffrin's character arc and create organic story moments. I want you to keep this in mind when I talk here.

So, skills, right? If you've played any turn-based RPG, you know your Fire spells, your "BACKSLASH! AIRSLASH! BACKSLASH!" and the many ways to style those.

Well, what does casting "Fire" say about your character? Not all that much, does it? Perhaps you'll have typical divisions. The smart one is the mage, the big brawny one is your tank, the petite one's the healer. And that's the barebones of ISAT's main party, but it's much more than that.

Every character's style of combat tells you something about them. Odile, the Researcher, is the most well-travelled and knowledgable of the bunch. She's the one with the expertise to keep a cool head and analyze the enemy, yet also able to use all three of the Rock-Paper-Scissors craft types.

To reflect her analytical view of things, all her skill names are just descriptive, the closest to your most bog-standard RPG. "Slow IV" or "Paper III" serve well to describe their purpose. The high number of the skills gives the impression there were three other Slow skills beforehand - fitting, considering the party starts at level 45, about to head into the final dungeon. She's also the oldest, so she's the slowest of the bunch.

Isabea, the Fighter, has all his skills in exclamation points. "YOUR TURN!!!" "SO WEAK!!!" "SMASH!!!" they're straightforward, but excited. He's a purposefully cheerfull guy, so his skills revolve around cheering on his allies. He's absolutely pumped to be here, and you see that from his skill names alone.

Mirabelle, the Housemaiden, is an interesting case. She's by all means the true protagonist of this tale - She's the one "Chosen by the Change God," the only one who survived the King's first attack, the only one immune to his ability to freeze time, the only dual-craft type of the game - just a lot of things. And her skill names reflect that facade she puts on herself - she can do this, she can win! She has to believe it, or else she starts doubting. This is how you get "Jolly Round Rondo" and "Mega Sparkle Heal" or "Adorable Moving Cure." She's styled every bit a sailor scout shojo heroine, and her moveset replicates the naming conventions of "In the name of the moon, I'll punish you!"

Even Bonnie, the Kid, who can't be controlled in combat, has named craft skills. And they very much reflect that Bonnie is, well, a kid. "Wolf Speed Technique" or "Thousand Blows Technique" are very much the phrasings of a child who learned one complicated word and now wants to use it in everything to seem cooler than they are, which is none, because they're twelve.

Siffrin's skills are all puns.

You have an IMMEDIATE feel for personality here. Between "Knife to Meet You!" and "Too Cleaver by Half," you know Siffrin's the type to always crack a joke no matter the situation, slinging witticisms around to put Sonic the Hedgehog to shame. It's just such a clever way to establish character using a game mechanic as old as the entire history of RPGs.

This is only the baseline of the way the combat system feeds into the story, though.

The timeloop, of course, feeds into it. Siffrin is the only character who retains experience upon looping, whereas all other characters are reset to their base level and skills. And it sucks (affectionate).

You're extremely likely to battle more often the earlier in the game you are - after all, you need the experience (for now.) Every party member contributes, and Siffrin isn't all that strong on their own, since they focus on raw scissor type damage with the addition of one speed buff. (Of course it's a speed buff. They're a speedy fucker. Just look at him).

At first, the difference in level between Siffrin and the rest of the group is rather negligible. Just a level or two. Just a bit more speed and attack. And then Siffrin grows further and further apart. Siffrin keeps learning new skills. He gets a healing skill that doubles as an attack boost, taking away from both Mirabelle's and Isabeau's usefullness. He gets Craft skills of every type that even give you two jackpot points instead of one - thus obliterating Odile's niche. Siffrin turns into a one-person army capable of clearing most encounters all on their own.

Siffrin's combat progression is an exact mirror of story progression - as their experience inside the loops grows, they also grow further and further away from their party. The party seems... weaker, slower, clumsier. Always back at their starting point, just as all of their character arcs are reset each loop. Never advancing, always stagnant. And you have Siffrin as the comparison post right next to them.

I also want to point out here a change from Act 2 to Act 3 - Siffrin's battle portrait. He stops smiling.

Battles keep getting easier. This is true both for the reason that Siffrin keeps growing stronger even when all enemies stay the same, but also for the reason that you, the player, learn more about the battle system and the various encounters, until you've learned perfect boss clear strategies just from repetition. Have you ever watched a speedrunner play Pokemon? They've played this game so many times, they could do it blindfolded and sleeping. Your own knowledge and Siffrin's new strength work in tandem to trivialize the game's entire combat system as the game progresses.

(Is it still fun? Playing it over, and over, and over again? Is it?)

You and Siffrin are in sync, your experience making everything trivial.

As time goes on, Siffrin grows to care less and less about performing right for their party and more and more about going fast. A huge moment in his character is marked by the end of Act 3; because of story events I won't delve too deeply into, Siffrin has grown afraid of trying something new. And his options of escape are closing in. They need an answer, and they need it fast. He doesn't have the time or patience to dumb himself down, so you unlock one new skill.

It doesn't occur with level up, or with a quest, or anything at all. At the start of Act 4, it simply appears in Siffrin's Craft skills.

(Just attack.)

No pun. No joke. Just attack. Once you notice, the effect is immediate - here you have it, a clear sign of how jaded Siffrin has become, right at every encounter. And it's a damn good attack, too! The only available attack in the game that deals "massive" damage against all enemies. Because it doesn't add any jackpot points (at least, it's not supposed to), you set up a combo with everybody else, but Siffrin simply tears away at the enemy with wild abandon. Seperated from the rest of the party by the virtue of no longer needing to contribute to team attacks (most of the time. It's still useful if they do, though).

Once again, an aspect of the battle system enhances the degree of separation between Siffrin and the static characters of his play. You're incentivized to separate him, even.

Additionally, there are two more skills to learn. They're the only skills that replace previous skills. You only get them at extremely high levels, the latter of which I didn't even reach on both of my playthroughs.

The first, somewhere in the level 70 range, Rose Printed Glasses, a paper type craft skill, is replaced by Tear You Apart. It's still a pun about paper, but remarkedly more vicious.

The second is even more on the nose. At level 80, In A While, Rockodile!, a rock type craft skill, is replaced by the more powerful Rock Bottom.

I didn't get to level 80. If you do, you pretty much have to do it on purpose. You have to keep going much longer than necessary, as Siffrin is just done. And the last skill he learns is literally called Rock Bottom.

What do I even need to say, really.

Your party doesn't stay static forever, though.

By doing their hangout quests, side quests throughout the loops that result in Siffrin and the character having a heart to heart, all of them unlock what I'd call an "ultimate" skill. You know the type - the character achieved self-fulfillment, hit rank 10 on their confidant, maxed out their skill tree, and received a reward for their trouble.

These skills are massively useful. My favorite is Odile's - it makes one enemy weak to all Craft types for several turns, which basically allows you to invalidate the first and third boss, as well as just clown on the King, especially once Siffrin starts racking up damage.

But the thing is. In Act 3, when you first get them, yeah, they're useful. But... do you need them? After all, they're such a hassle to get. You need to do the whole character quest again, you can't loop forward in the House or you'll lose them. If you want to take these skills to the King, you need to commit. Go the full nine-yards and be nice to your friends and not die and not skip forward or skip back. Which is annoying, right?

Well, I sure did think so during Act 4. After all, a base level party can still defeat the King, just with a few more tricky pieces involved. Siffrin can oneshot almost all basic enemies by the time of Act 4. It's this exact evalutation that you, the player, go through everytime you return to Dormont. Do I want this skill, still? Would it not be faster to go on without it? I'm repeating myself, but that's the thing! That's what Siffrin is thinking, too!

I also want to take a quick moment to note, here - all skills gained from hangouts have art associated with them, which no other skills do. This feature, the nifty art, hammers home these as "special" skills, besides just how they're unlocked.

Siffrin also has one skill with associated art.

Yeah, you guessed it, it's (Just attack.)

At first, helping the characters is tied to a hefty in-game reward, but that reward loses its value, and in return devalues helping Siffrin's friends every loop. It's too tedious for a skill that'll make a boss go by one turn faster. You, the player, grow jaded with the battle system. Grinding experience isn't worth it, everybody's highest levels are already recorded. Fighting bosses isn't worth it, it's much faster to loop forward.

Isn't this what all endgame in video games looks like? You already beat the final boss, and now... what challenge is left? Is there a point to keep playing? Most games will have some post-game content. A superboss to test your skills against, but ISAT doesn't have any of that. You're forever left chasing to the post-game. That's the whole point - to escape the game.

As most games get more difficult as time passes, ISAT only gets easier. The game becomes disinterested in expanding its own mechanics just as I ran out of new things to fight after 100%-ing Kingdom Hearts 3. Every encounter becomes a simple game of "press button to win."

The final boss just takes that one up a notch.

Spoilers for Act 5 ahead boys!

In Act 5, Siffrin utterly loses it. His last possible hope for escape failed him, told him there's nothing she can do, and Siffrin is trapped for eternity. So of course, they go insane and run up the entire House without their party.

This just proves what you already knew - you dont need the party to proceed. Siffrin alone is strong enough. And here, Siffrin has entirely shed the facade of the jokester they used to be. Every single skill now follows the (Just attack.) naming conventions. Your skills are: (Paper.) (Rock.) (Scissors.) (Breathe.)

To the point. Not a moment wasted, because Siffrin can't take a moment longer of any of this. Additionally, his level is set to 99 and his equipment becomes fixed. You can't even pick up items anymore! Not that you needed them at this point anyway, right? Honestly, I never used any items besides the Salty Broth since Act 2, so I stopped picking items up a long time ago. Now you just literally can't.

Something I've not talked about until now - one of the main equipment types in this game are Memories, gained for completing subquests or specific interactions and events. They all by and large have little effects - make Odile's tonics heal more, or have Mirabelle cast a shield at the start of combat. For the hangout events, you also gain an associated memory that boosts the characters' stats by 30. It lets them keep up with Siffrin again! A fresh wind! Finally, your party members feel on par with you again!

...For a time. And just like that, they're irrelevant again, just as helping them gave Siffrin a brief moment of hope that the power of friendship could fix everything.

In Act 5, your memory is set to "Memory of Emptiness." It allows you to loop back in the middle of combat. You literally can't die anymore. Not that Siffrin could've died by this point in the first place, unless you forgot about the King's instant-kill attack. This one memory takes away the false pretense that combat ever had any stakes. Siffrin's level being set to 99 means even the scant exp you get is completely wasted on them. All stakes and benefits from combat have been removed. It has become utterly pointless.

Frustrating, right? It's an artistic frustration, though. It traps you right here in Siffrin's shoes, because he hates that all these blinding Sadnesses are still walking around just as much. It all inspires just a tiny fraction of that deep rolling anger Siffrin experiences here in the player.

And listen, it was cathartic, that one time Siffrin snapped and stabbed the tutorial Sadness, wasn't it? Because who enjoys sitting through the tutorial that often? Siffrin doesn't. I don't, either.

So, since combat is an useless obstacle now meant to inspire frustration, what do you do for a boss? You can't well make it a gameplay challenge now, no. The bosses of Act 5 are an emotional challenge: a painful wait.

First, Siffrin fights the King, alone. This is already nervewracking because of one factor - in every other run, you need Mirabelle's shield skill, or else you're scripted to die. You're actually forced to fight the King multiple times in Act 3, and have to do it at least once in Act 4, though you'll likely do it more. Point is: you know how this fight works.

You know Siffrin's fight is doomed from the outset, but all you can do is keep slinging attacks. Siffrin is enough of a powerhouse to take the King's HP down, what with the healing and buff skills they have now, not to even mention you can just go all in on damage and then loop back.

(And no matter which way you play it, whether you just loop or use strategically, it reflects on Siffrin, too. Has he grown callous enough not even death will stop their mission? Or does he still avoid pain, as much as he can?)

This fight still allows you the artifice of even that much choice, not that it matters. The other shoe drops eventually - Siffrin becomes slower, and slower. Unsettling, considering this game works on an Action Gauge system. You barely get turns anymore. The screen gets darker, and darker. Until Siffrin is frozen in time, just as you knew he had to be, because you know how this encounter works, know it can't be cleared without Mirabelle.

And, then, a void.

Siffrin awakens to nothingness. The only way to tell you've hit a wall is if Siffrin has no walking animation to match your button inputs. You walk, and walk, until you're approached by.... you. The next enemy encounter of the game, and Siffrin's absolute lowest point: Mal Du Pays.

Or, "Homesickness," in english. If you know the game, you know why it's named this, but that's not the point at the moment.

Thing is, where you could damage the King and are damaged in turn, giving you at least a proper combat experience, even if its doomed to fail, Mal Du Pays has no such thing.

You can attack. You can defend. But it is immune to all attacks. And in return, it does nothing. It's common, at least, for undefeatable enemies to be a "survive" challenge, but nope. The entire fight is "press button and wait." Except, remember the previous fight against the King? The entire time, you were waiting for the big instant death attack to drop. That feeling, at least for me, carried forward. I was incredibly on edge just waiting for the other shoe to drop. And, as is a pattern, Siffrin is, too. As Siffrin's attacks fail to connect, they start talking to Mal Du Pays.

But he gets no response, as you get no attacks to strategize around. The wait for anything to happen is utterly agonizing. You and Siffrin are both waiting for something to happen. This isn't a fight. It just pretends to be. It's an utter rugpull, because Siffrin was so undefeatable for most of Act 4 and all of Act 5 so far. It's kind of terrifying!

and it does. It finally does something. Ma Du Pays speaks, in the voice of Siffrin's friends, listing out their deepest fears. I think it's honestly fantastic. You're forced to just sit here and listen to Siffrin's deepest doubts, things you know the characters could not say because it references the timeloops they're all utterly unaware of. This is all Siffrin, talking to himself. And all you, all Siffrin, can do, is keep wailing away on the enemy to no effect whatsoever.

So of course this ends with Siffrin giving up. What else can you do?

And then Siffrin's friends show up and unfreeze them and it's all very cool yay. The pure narrative scenes aren't really the main focus but I want to point out here:

A) Mirabelle is in the first party slot here, referencing how she's the de facto protagonist, and Bonnie fills in the fourth slot left empty, which shows all characters uniting to save Siffrin

B) this is the only instance of the other party members having act specific battle icons: they're all smiling brightly, further pushed by the upbeat music

C) the reflecting shield Mirabelle uses to freeze the King uses a variation of her hangout skill cut in, marking it as her true "final" skill and giving the whole fight a more climatic feeling.

It's also a short gameplay sequence with Siffrin utterly uninvolved in the battle. You can't even see them onscreen. But... it feels warm, doesn't it? Everybody coming together. Siffrin doesn't have to fight anymore.

At last, the King is defeated. Siffrin and co. make for the Head Housemaiden, to have her look at Siffrin's sudden illness. Siffrin is utterly exhausted, famished, running a fever. And this isn't unexpected - after all, their skills in Act 5 had no cooldown. For context, instead of featuring any sort of MP system, all skills work on a cooldown basis, where a character can't use it for a certain number of turns. The lowest cooldown is actually Siffrin's Knife to Meet You, which has a cooldown of 1. In universe, this is reasoned as the characters needing a break from spamming craft in order to not exhaust themselves.

Siffrin's skills in Act 5 having no cooldown/being infinitely spammable isn't a sign of their strength - it's a sign that he refuses to let himself rest in order to rush through as fast as possible.

Moving on, Siffrin panics when seeing the Head Housemaiden, because seeing her means one thing: the end. Prior to this in the game, every single time you beat the King, the loop ends when you talk to the Head Housemaiden.

Reality breaks down, the whole shebang. It's here that Siffrin realizes - they don't want the loops to end, because the end of their journey means their family will leave, and he'll be alone again. The happiest time of his life will be over.

Siffrin goes totally ballistic, to say the least.

As it turns out (and was heavily foreshadowed narratively), Siffrin has been using Wish Craft to subconciously cause the timeloop because of their abandonment issues. It's rather predictable if you paid attention to literally anything, but it's extremely notable how heavily Siffrin is paralleled to the King, the antagonist they swore to kill by themself at the start of Act 5. The King wants to freeze Vaugarde in time because it is, in his mind, "perfect," for accepting him after he lost his home - a backstory he shares with Siffrin.

Siffrin has become the exact antagonist he swore to kill, and it's shown by how the next fight utterly flips everything on its head.

Siffrin is the final boss.

In a towering form made of stars, Siffrin looks down at their friends. His face is terrified, because of his internal conflict; he can't hurt his friends, but he can't let them go, either. The combat prompt is simply changed to "END IT!"

This fight is similar to the previous, in that you just need to wait a certain number of turns until its over. However, this time, it's not dreadful suspense. It's... confusion, and hesitance.

You have two options for combat: Attack your friends, or attack yourself.

And... you don't really want to do either, I think. I certainly don't. But what else can you do? It's Siffrin's desires clashing in full force. Attack your friends, and force them to stay? Or attack yourself, and let them go safely without you?

Worth noting, here - when you attack Siffrin's friends, you can't harm them. Isabeau will shield all attacks. And when you attack yourself, Mirabelle will heal you back to full. And the friends don't... do anything, either. How could they? Occasionally, Mirabelle heals you and Isabeau shouts words of motivation, but the main thing is...

(Your friends don't know what to do.)

None of them want to harm Siffrin. Both sides simply stare at each other, resolute in their conviction but unwilling to end it with violence. It's of note that this loop, the last one, is the only loop where the King isn't killed. Just frozen. And now here is Siffrin, clamoring for the same eternity the King was. Of course everything ends in a tearfilled conversation as Siffrin sees their friends won't leave him, even after the journey ends, but I still have to appreciate this moment.

Siffrin is directly put in the position with their friends as his enemies, forced to physically reckon that keeping them in this loop is an act of violence, against both their friends, and against himself.

It's a happy ending. But... what does it mean?

Of course, ISAT is obviously about the fear of change. Siffrin is afraid of the journey ending, and of being alone. However, ISAT is also a game about games. Siffrin is playing the same game, over and over, because it's comforting. It's familiar. It's nice, to know exactly what happens next. These characters might just be predictable lines of dialogue, but... they feel like friends. Have you ever played a game, loved it, put countless hours into it, but you never finished it? Because you just couldn't bear to see it end? For the characters to leave your life, for there to be a void in your heart where the game used to be?

After all, maybe it became part of your routine! You play the game every day, slowly chipping away at it for weeks at a time. For me, I beat ISAT in four days. It utterly consumed me during this time. I had 36 hours of playtime by the end. Yeah, in that week, I did not do much more than play ISAT.

And once i beat it, i beat it, again. I restarted the game to see the few scenes I missed, most specifically the secret boss I won't talk about here. I... couldn't let go of the game yet. I wanted to see every scrap I could. I still do. I'm writing this, in part because I still do. It's scary to let go.

Ever heard the joke term of "Postgame Depression?" It's when you just beat a game, and you're suddenly sad. Maybe because the ending affected you emotionally and you need to process the feelings it invoked, or you search for something that can now fill your time with it gone.

The game ends, for real this time, the last time you talk to the Head Housemaiden. But Siffrin gets... scared. What if everything loops back again? And so, his family offers to hold his hand. They face the end, together.

For all loops, including the ending, you never see what happens after. After they leave the loop for good. Because the loop is the game itself. It's asking you to trust that life goes on for these characters, and it holds your hand as it asks you to let go. There's a reason for Siffrin's theater metaphors. He is the actor, and the director, asking everyone to do it over one more time. He's a character within the game, and its player.

There's a reason I talked about endgame content. This, the way it all repeats, there's nothing new, difficulty and stakes bleed away as you snap the game over your knee - it's my copy of White 2 with two hundred hours in it. It's me playing Fire Emblem Awakening in under 3 hours while skipping every cutscene. Are you playing for the sake of play, for the sake of indulging in your memories, because you're afraid of the hole it'll leave when you stop?

Of note: the narrative never condemns Siffrin for unwittingly causing their own suffering. He's a victim of circumstance. It's seen as endearing, even, that Siffrin loves their friends to the point of rather seeing the world destroyed than them gone. But Siffrin is also told: we'll stay with you for now, but we'll part ways eventually. And one day, you'll have to be okay with it.

Stop draining the things you love of every ounce of enjoyment just because you're afraid of what happens next. I'm not saying to never play your favorite games again. Playing ISAT a second time, I still had a lot of fun! I saw so many new things I didn't before, and I enjoyed myself immensely, reading the same dialogue over and over. But... it makes me look at other games I love and still play, and makes me ask... is this still fun? Do I still need to play this game to enjoy it? Even writing this is an afterimage of my enjoyment, but it's a new way to interact with the game, to analyze it through this lens. Fuck, man, I write fanfiction. Look at me.

All of this, fanart, fanfic, analysis, is a way to prolong that enjoyment without making yourself suffer for it. Without just going through the motions of enjoyment without actually experiencing any. But one day, the thing you love won't be fun to talk and write and draw about. And it's okay. You'll have new things to love. I promise.

In the end.... I'm certain I'll replay ISAT one day. Between great writing, art, puzzles and unresolved mysteries, it's my shoe-in for game of the year.

But I won't replay it for quite some time. I've had enough, for now, so I let my love take other forms.

Siffrin is never condemned, because love is no evil. Be it love for another person, or for a game. And please, if you're overempathetic - it's still a game, at the end of the day. The great thing about games is that you can always boot them up again, no matter how long its been.

A circle within a circle indeed.

To summarize:

The repetitiveness of ISAT's combat, lack of new enemies, and Siffrin's ever increasing strength eventually allows you to snap the combat over your knee, rendering it irrelevant and boring. Though this may seem counterproductive at first, it perfectly mirrors how Siffrin has also grown bored with these repeated encounters and views them only as an obstacle to get past. The reflection of Siffrin's own tiredness with the player's annoyance increases the compassion the player has for Siffrin as a character.

Additionally, the endgame state of the combat system serves as commentary on the state of a favorite game played too often, much like how Siffrin has unwittingly trapped themself in the loop. Despite the game having no more challenge or content left to over, a player might return to their favorite game anyway, solely to try and recreate the early experience of actually having fun with it. This ties into ISAT's metanarrative about the fear of change and refusal to let go of comfort even when the object (here, your favorite video game) offering that comfort has become utterly bereft of any substance to actually engage with. Playing for the sake of playing, with no actual investment to keep going besides your own memories.

Later on, stripping away even the pretense of strategy for a "press button and wait" format of final bosses highlights the lack of options at Siffrin's disposal and truly forces the player into their shoes. Truly, the only way to win is to stop playing.

[licensedproldier]

highlights from the brennan hank interview (aka taking notes on things that i liked or didn't know)

HE STARTED ATTENDING COLLEGE WHEN HE WAS 14?????

immediate jump off topic from hank to ask him about d20 (this happened while fhjy was airing)

"and the greatest project of all, my wonderful family with my wife isabella roland"

bonding over their children

brennan and hank's son both corrected their father's bedtime stories 💀

many elaine lee shoutouts

"his dad met my mom and fell in love" "you did that" "we did that, parent-trapped them"

was pulled out of school in 4th grade for homeschooling because the bullying was so bad....

started a company when they (he and his brother) were fifteen?? called Bootleg Adventures

hank's little awed hiss of "what" to the above piece of information

GOT PART OWNERSHIP OF THE WAYFINDER COMPANY AT 15

"knowledge is something that, when you share it, there's just more. there's no scarcity"

hank staring off into space slightly looking like brennan just blew his mind (we're 11 minutes in)

"we were 14 year old philosophy majors, if you can imagine anything more normal than that"

brennan unable to resist doing fun voices for the people he talks about

he wouldve loved to work at wayfinder full time and said back then hey maybe ill become a famous internet comedian or something and that's how i can help camp. now he's got texts from the staff saying how a bunch of dimension 20 fans have joined and its been a huge boon for them that way 🥺

"it's funny when a really bad plan works. dont make that plan."

"every new community-- is this too sad? no its true" THOSE THINGS ARE NOT MUTUALLY EXCLUSIVE

anyway "for every new community i start with the presupposition that someone is going to pick me up and put me in the trash can" 😭

hank sniping him through the duplex door with "[when you do that] you kind of imagine yourself to be the value you're delivering rather than yourself, or that your value is in what you deliver and not who you are" and brennan going 😐 "that's a great point man"

both of them turning to do pained smiles at the camera 😭

"i think the value is in who you are" "that's really sweet i appreciate that" "but i also love that you deliver"

brennan quoting mary oliver

im starting to feel a little called out guys

robert mckee "stories are not about their premises they're about their conclusions"

brennan also staring off into space slightly thinking about what hank said

the REAL college advice brennan is giving is reportedly "put an egg in your ramen" because thats how you stop your eyes from going "matte finish"

shoutout to vanessa's dumplings for keeping this man alive

"i am ozymandias nerd of nerds, gaze upon my banner and despair"

the moment he felt like something changed was walking into C2E2 and seeing that the biggest hanging banner in the convention hall was of fantasy high. or, as brennan put it, "my dumb face"

"my friends moved in with their partners, the apartment i had with them scattered to the wind, the woman i was dating dumped me after three weeks, and i won a bunch of money on Who Wants to Be a Millionare" "wh- what???"

he taught emily, murph, siobhan, and zac how to play dnd 🥺 and was running a home game for lou at the same time

got hired at um, actually because his name was getting around for being a big dork

zac stepped down from troopers and sam liked brennan's character from a previous casting call (tim curry eating pizza) so he brought him in

its very charming the detail with which brennan remembers these important moments in his life

became a full time cast member in the same week he started dating izzy! "hard to beat week gang!"

"they told us they were launching dropout and everyone had to make a show, which, if you're been trying to make a show your whole life, that's like saying 'bad news guys, there's 24 birthday cakes in the break room and everyone has to eat a whole birthday cake'."

brennan was making a document for a market pitch on an actual-play show when he was called into office and THEY pitched HIM the idea of an actual-play show

"i guess i have tumbled through life to end up here ready to do this"

truly like. one of the guys of all time.

"some of the things that didn't make sense about you make more sense now" hank talking indirectly about how amazing he found all the moving parts of mentopolis and now getting to hear about how long and how many time he's done storytelling it makes sense

"yeah its the one skill"

"i wanted to tell stories before i was anything else"

🎉anti-capitalist rant🎉

"people used to say 'is ucb a cult' and i'd say 'in a cult, somebody is making money'"

HIGH FIVE!!!

[bluelockmaniac]

⊹ ࣪ ˖𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓-𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐄

↳ "a cute first encounter which leads to a romantic relationship later on."

ITOSHI SAE'S ONE-SHOT VERSION !

↳ not recognizing the renowned player piques his interest in you <3

click here for the bllk various version .

each early morning, before practice, sae made it a habit to stop by the local cafe for a cup of freshly brewed coffee. it was a routine he followed to keep himself awake from either the tedious interviews his manager always nags him about, or the unexciting plays his teammates offered. but today, this conventional drill would deviate from its norm. 

as usual, he ordered the pungent drink and stepped out of the establishment to continue on with the events his day promised, only to abruptly collide with you, splattering warm coffee all across his jersey. you were running at a fast pace, late to work for the second time this week, and you definitely did not want to face your manager’s scolding again.

for a moment, he stood there, stunned, blinking at the spreading stain. slowly, his gaze lifted to lock on your frantic, worried eyes.

“i’m so sorry, sir!” you stammered, quickly pulling out a handkerchief to absorb what you could of the bitter liquid, completely oblivious to the name on his jersey. perhaps he was a really big fan of some bigshot football player, you assumed. “i wasn’t paying attention– you see, i’m late for work and—”

“it’s alright.” he retorted calmly, though a very subtle hint of annoyance laced his words. he gently pushed your hand away from his chest and sent the now empty cup flying into the distant trash can with his foot.

your wide eyes sparkled in amazement as he made the shot. “woah, sir, do you play football? you have a really good aim! is the player named…” you made a quick loop around him to check the back of his jersey, “...‘sae’, your inspiration?”

sae lifts a brow, surprised by your lack of recognition. it was not often that he met someone unaware of japan’s prodigy player, who had made a significant name for himself in spain. nonetheless, you had certainly made quite an impression on the professional player— and he was rather fond of it. however, he wasn’t about to conceal the fact that he was the owner of the name on his jersey.

“i am sae, dumbass,” he points out.

“who?” you inquired innocently, your attention focused more on his striking features than the insult he had just thrown your way. if there was such an attractive, famous young man (despite his foul tongue), you would have known him by now. but, you decide to shoot your shot anyway; it would be a waste to let go of such a handsome guy.

“also, is it possible if i could get your number?” you asked almost flirtatiously, before realizing the awkwardness of the situation. “i mean, i’d love to, uh, pay you back for the coffee you spilled.”

“hmm?” he glanced at your uniform, then pulled out a small piece of paper from his pocket with a sigh. “you’ve done nothing to make yourself worthy of having my number.”

“–wait, i really do apologize for spilling your coffee, sae—”

“but,” he pauses, handing you the paper with a shrug. “you ought to keep me entertained.”

with a final glance at your love-stricken expression, he turned on his heel and disappeared around the corner. with your heart racing, you eagerly smooth out the crumpled paper and scan its contents; itoshi sae’s neatly written phone number. you actually received the aloof man’s contact! but… 

you were fired. well, this should be enough to keep him entertained, right?

© 2024 bluelockmaniac — do not repost, copy, translate, modify, etc my work on any platform !

[meowmeowmeowmeow4x]

Supersons +1 prompt answer

If you asked Danny, 12 year old half-ghost hero of Amity Park, how half-life was going, he'd tell you things were mixed.

On the one hand, he had just spent the last three or four months in family/scientist/'this house is a death trap waiting to happen' therapy with Jazz, and by some miracle, it worked. He wasn't sure if this was some kind of dream as his parents poured over years upon years of research, crossing out lines, rewriting equations, and reevaulating everything they thought they knew about ghosts.

Was the shudders family therapy worth not going over how they'd like to dissect him? he's still not sure. The horror.

Not to mention the attention. Danny was sure he was going to throw up if his parents drag him away for more bonding time, only for a ghost to attack and for him to run off to transform. What made it worse was when the Fentons came barrelling out, guns blazing, alternating between getting mad that he'd interrupted their family time, and asking him questions about "Your suspicious spook culture, if you even have one you dangerous delusional delinquent!"

At least they were trying, but Danny was very much comfortable not spilling the beans on the whole half-ghost situation, thank you very much.

And that's why, when Dad proposed to take him to Gotham to show off their latest invention, he jumped at the chance. The home city of the Batman, one of the greatest heroes known to man (except for Martian Manhunter and Superman of course) and Dad promised to take him to Gotham Observatory too. Not to mention how much he wanted to get away from Jazz's smug looks of superiority. Gotham here he comes!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Damian Wayne scowled as he scanned the crowed of scientists with more smarts than sense. Really, a flying toilet seat. For what deviant?

"Maybe they're for people who can fly." Kent piped up beside him. Father had let the two of them run off together, and his company was mildly more appealing than being alone with his thoughts.

"Why would Superman ever need to relieve himself mid-air. I do not believe you would appreciate your father's rear end being on display for all the world to see."

"True." Jon hummed. His voice lowered to a whisper. "You think indecent exposure is what your dad meant by "scoping out any potential future villains?"

Damian gave Jon a flat look. The sooner this convention ended, the better.

The crowded shifted, and the mass of visitors pushed toward a certain corner, where a man large enough to rival Superman's build stood upon a podium, with a boy their age off to the side.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce to you the latest in FentonWorks' innovations, the Fenton Ghost Zone Radar, soon to revolutionise the study of ghosts!"

"I thought ghosts were a magic thing." Jon said. "You know, stuff Constantine and JLD deal with."

"They are."

"Mixing magic and science is like, like, oil and water. No way this guy's serious, is he?"

"His name is Jack Fenton. That's Daniel Fenton, his son." Damian pointed to the boy in question, looking like he'd seen this scene a hundred times before, but with that knowing glint that promised something deeper. "They're normally spotted alongside Jack's wife, Madeline. Widely regarded as quacks by the larger scientific community for chasing paper-thin theories about ghosts, they've nonetheless gained funding from the government. This is the first time they've left their base of operations in Amity Park for years."

"Woah, you know your stuff, Dami!"

Damian glared at the young Superboy in disguise. "I read the briefing files. Didn't you?"

Kent looked uncomfortable and looked away. "Uhh, maybe?"

"Typical."

"Well, if he's so crazy, then why'd your dad even let him in." Upon another scathing glare, Kent relented. "Oh right, the whole supervillain thing."

"Enough chatter. We'll zero in on the younger Fenton. I intend to squeeze him like a grape, and make Father proud."

"Dami maybe you should be a little nicer-" Only for Damian to march off without him.

Honestly, inane niceties were above someone of his status. Those things were Superboy's job, and if Daniel Fenton wouldn't crack, then Damian was itching to try a new torture technique.

@impyssadobsessions

[theoriginalkaminari]

Izuku Midoriya x reader with a quirk like Toge Inumaki's cursed technique!

(Do not repost or reblog pls)

So basically you posses the "Snake Eyes and Fangs" quirk! You have little black spirals on your tongue and around both sides of your mouth. Your quirk allows you to infuse your words with cursed energy to improve the spirit of your commands, forcing all who hear it to obey.

However, you choose not to speak in a conventional manner in order to protect people from your quirk. Speaking in rice ball ingredients makes it difficult to understand you, and people usually don't have the patience to learn to communicate with you. Which means you don't have friends. Sorry.

You've gotten used people giving you weird looks and side glances. All throughout your childhood, you were constantly teased or bullied. It was even hard for your parents to understand you. Most of the time they dismissed your wants and needs because it was hard for you to communicate them.

So decided to push your feelings aside and focus on becoming a hero. And the person you wanted to be like was none other than Present Mic. He used his voice to fight bad guys! And he had funny hair, so that was a plus to you. He was everything you wanted to be. Confident, loud, and accepted.

When you were around thirteen years old, you moved away from Shibuya and to Musutafu, where you began to attend Aldera Middle School. It was pretty much the same as all schools, only there were rumors of a quirkless boy attending the school.

You assumed these were rumors because you had never seen the quirkless boy. You thought he was a myth. Until one day, you saw a blonde kid standing over a green haired boy. The blonde kid seemed angry, and was shouting hurtful things at him.

This bothered you. So you lowered the scarf that covered the lower half of your mouth, and spoke a command.

"Leave."

The blonde boy had no choice, and suddenly left. The green boy looked over at you in surprise. He quickly got to his feet dusting off his uniform.

The boy had messy green hair, soft green eyes, and a few freckles on his cheeks. He wears a nervous expression as he looks at you. You simply cover the lower half of your face with your scarf, and turn to leave.

Until the boy calls back to you. "U-uhm!" He calls, stepping forward a bit. "Wait, please!" You're a bit surprised, but turn back to him, tilting your head to the side.

"Thank you." He smiles softly. "I didn't expect Kacchan to just leave like that.." the green haired boy says, looking back to the place where the blonde kid was. Was Kacchan his name? Then he looks back at you, his green eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"Was that your quirk that you used on him?" He asks, stepping closer to you. You nod, a bit confused. Why was he so eager? Weird.

"That was amazing! What is your quirk, exactly?" He beams, stepping closer. This was a bit of an awkward situation. You couldn't really answer him, but at this point, you carried a paper with you that says everything you know about your quirk on it. So you decide to give him that.

He seems a bit confused, but takes it and reads it. You can see the curiosity and wonder sparkle in his green eyes. He finishes reading and looks at you. "Your quirk is amazing!" He proceeds to ramble about how amazing it is for three minutes.

Eventually, you put up a hand to stop him, and he silences. "Sorry." He smiles nervously, scratching the back of his neck. "So...you can only speak in...rice ball ingredients?" He asks. You nod again. "Salmon." You reply. His eyes sparkle and he beams. "Does that mean yes?" He asks, and you nod again.

He suddenly pulls out a notebook and begins to write in it. You both spend at least an hour making translations for your speech.

Salmon was yes, Bonito Flakes was a negative response or just no, Kelp is used as a greeting. Mustard leaf is used to express concern. Tuna is as to say: look! And Tuna Mayo is used to say to do something.

Ever since that day, you and Izuku Midoriya have been bestfriends. You often defended him from this..'Kacchan' character. And he brought you over at his home a few times. His mother, Inko, did her best to try and communicate with you, and she treated you like her own kid.

Izuku eventually developed feelings for you. Everything about you made him happy, and he found himself wanting to be near you at all times.

So, he gathered up the courage to tell you his feelings. He waited until you both had a moment alone, and took his shot. He quickly confessed, rambling nervously about how much he cared and loved you, and wanted to become heros with you.

To silence his ramble, you leaned forward, pulling your scarf down, and connected you lips with his in a sweet and gentle kiss.

Izuku felt his face heat up quickly. It took him a few seconds to realize what was happening, but then slowly leaned into the kiss. He cupped your cheeks with his hands and your hands rested on his shoulders.

The kiss lasted for a few seconds, beforw you both pulled away slowly. Izuku smiles softly. "I'm in love with you..." He says in a soft voice, as if he didn't say it enough. You chuckle softly and look him in the eyes. The two of you kiss for a bit longer.

Izuku's favorite part of yoir relationship together is how you enjoy listening to him ramble. Izuku enjoys holding hands, and when you press gentle kisses to his scars or freckles. Izuku likes to kiss the black spirals on your cheeks, and sometimes when you guys makeout, he does his best to trace the outline of the black spiral on your tongue.

Izuku has definitely become happier and more confident since the two of you started dating. After all, you mean everything to him.

Until one day, his whole world fell apart.

The League of Villains found put you were important to Izuku, and took you away from him. They tore your vocal cords out. Then burnt your body. And sent it to U.A as a threat.

Izuku never felt so sad and alone.

You ment everything to him. He loved you.

Why did you have to die?

So he took Bakugou's old advice, and took a swan dive off the building, wanting nothing more but to reunite with you.

To his disappointment, his friends saved him.

Izuku kept the scarf you used to wear on him at all times. It still smelled like you. And it was the only thing he had left of you.

Izuku could never forget you. Never.

And he got his revenge. Dabi was the one who burnt you, so his head now stands on a spike as a warning to the rest of the villains.

Izuku loved you. And he shows his love by killing every villain that crosses his path without a single thought.

He was eventually expelled from U.A for his actions, and he became a villain himself. He became the very thing he swore to destroy.

And he didn't regret a thing.

[hallowpen]

This series continues to be a love letter to Thai tradition. It makes me sooo happy to get to share these cultural insights with you guys through watching Girl's Love media. We've come so far 😭😭😭

So... This episode didn't really highlight any traditional Thai dishes, but in keeping with last week's edition, I want to at least mention two that stood out:

ช่อม่วง (pronounced 'chor muang') are flower dumplings that were to be considered part of royal Thai cuisine. The dumplings are filled with a sweet and salty pork mixed with roasted peanuts. They are wrapped in a purple dough that gets its coloring from being dyed by butterfly pea flowers steeped in water with lime juice. (Any fellow UWMAers will recognize this dish, as the process of how to make them were included in that series)

สละลอยแก้ว (pronounced 'sala loy kaew') is another version of the dessert we discussed last week. It is made by having Salak fruit 'floating' in iced sugared syrup. Salak is a fruit native to Southeast Asia (specifically Indonesia). The Thai variety have more flesh with a uniquely sweet and slightly sour taste.

ยิงปืนกันกล้วย (pronounced 'ying peun gahn gluay') is a traditional children's game typically played amongst young boys. It is a game where children "shoot" at each other with an imaginary rifle that is made from banana stalks. They swipe one hand quickly along the banana stalk, and the following impact causes the upright parts of the stem ("the ammo") to loudly "snap"... a sound similar to that of a gunshot. The banana rifles are called ปืนของกล้วย (pronounced 'peun gahn gluay') hence the name of the game... and the "horses", which are also made from banana stalks, are called ม้าของกล้วย (pronounced 'ma gahn gluay').

ลอยกระทง - Thailand's Loy Krathong Festival is probably something viewers are already familiar with if they've watched other Thai dramas. It is a Thai tradition that takes place on the night of the full moon during the 12th lunar month. "Krathongs", which can be translated as 'ritual lantern vessels', are made from natural materials including banana leaves and flowers. They are often formed in the shape of a lotus to symbolize rebirth, strength, and resilience. For Anil and Pin it is a gesture to make merit, while simultaneously wishing for each other’s happiness and good fortune. It is representative of their hope for only good blessings to come into their lives while they are apart.

In more modern tradition, there are also certain romantic undertones revolving around the Loy Krathong Festival. It is said that any couple who float a Krathong together, will be bound together for life.

Aside from these cultural aspects, there are a few other instances I want to note.

I loved seeing the juxtaposition of Anil knowing and actively wanting to pursue a romantic relationship with Pin... and Pin only just coming to the realization that, maybe, her fond affection for Anil actually runs a lot deeper. I also want to point out, that Prik's participation in facilitating their romantic relationship is incredibly risky. As a low-ranking servant of the palace, she stands to receive the harshest punishment for 'breaking convention'. Which brings me to this scene:

There are so many social class dynamics happening in just this one scene alone. Pin cannot afford to be rude to a higher ranking official by saying, upfront, she does not wish for him to pursue her. Prik is being used as a shield to protect Pin from Kuea's advances. And Kuea, as a friend of Prince Anon AND who holds title himself, is blissfully unaware that his presence is completely unwelcome... because who, in their right mind, could ever want to turn away a person of his fortune and stature? Aaahhh, it's just such a brilliant scene!!!

[vickiee-mcmuffin]

Jealous

Word count: 3k

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Female Reader

Trope: Explicit smut, Age gap (18+ Warning, Minors DNI)

Summary: You see Stephen's jealous side come out after he sees some guy talking to you at an event.

A/N: I don't even remember this being one of my older fics... but I found it buried deep in my Google Docs last night. I think this was one of my first-ever fics, but I honestly don't remember.

You and Stephen didn’t have a conventional relationship. Not in a romantic way, at least. You were his student. You trained together. Talked. Got along most of the time. And you also slept with him... A lot. You were fucking each other on the regular and not a single person back at Kamar Taj knew about it – which worked out well for the both of you. You both had fun together with no strings attached. You didn’t have to talk about your past, about your days – sometimes you didn’t even ask how he was feeling. But that’s how it was between you two. You just had sex. That was it.

Which was why you and Stephen didn’t walk hand in hand to the event you were both invited to. You weren’t his girlfriend. So why would you be his date? Especially when he hardly ever showed up to events. But he was at this one – looking as handsome as ever in his Armani suit. And you were feeling wildly confident in your red dress and high heels and perfectly applied makeup. You had arrived at the same time, the both of you pushing your way through the crowd as you made your way to the entrance.

“The place is pretty packed,” he mumbled into your ear.

You nodded. “It’s so busy.”

You kept silent as you made your way inside, doing your best to avoid the large crowd of people. Your sharp heels clicked on the ground as you moved up the stairs, finally getting inside the venue. Music was blasting and people were talking and you could barely focus on your thoughts. But Stephen dragged you over to a secluded corner where you could both get settled.

“Would you like a drink?” you asked Stephen.

He took a seat and smiled at you. “Yeah. Please.”

You spun on your heels, searching for the bar. The second you left, you saw a rather large group of people surrounding Stephen. You shrugged at the scene and kept walking to the bar where you grabbed Stephen and yourself a drink. But then you heard someone clear their throat behind you. When you turned back around you were greeted by a man with a glint in his eyes. He looked to be around your age.

“Hi,” he smiled at you.”

“Um, hey,” you returned, still not sure who he was.

“Do you mind if I buy those drinks for you?” he nodded at the counter.

“Oh, no. That’s fine. Thanks though.”

“Please. Let me. I insist,” he placed his hand on his chest.

Well, if you wanted to fork over his own money, you weren’t about to fight him. “Alright. Thanks. You can buy ‘em.”

The stranger paid for your drinks quietly, with you standing with your arms crossed. You wondered for a second where he had come from and why he had approached you.

“Thanks so much,” you smiled when he was done.

“You’re welcome.”

“My name’s Y/N, by the way,” you held your hand out.

He shook your hand quickly, his eyes running up and down your body. He wasn’t being subtle. “Nice to meet you. My name’s Ben.”

You smiled at him, letting out a little laugh. “Thank you again.”

“My pleasure,” he nodded. “Are… Are you here with anyone?”

“Oh, yeah, I am.” You looked over your shoulder to where Stephen was, spotting him now standing in the area where you'd left him. He stared at you. Intensely. And then he moved, eyes stuck on you, as he marched on over. He walked with intent. With a purpose. He didn’t look calm or relaxed at all, as he had done a few minutes ago. No. There was something on his mind and you had a feeling you were about to find out what it was in a second.

“Who’s this?” Stephen asked when he stood next to you. He looked so serious, his head tilted slightly as he eyed the new man.

“Hey. We were just talking, ya know?” Ben said sheepishly.

“Well, Y/N doesn’t want to talk to you,” Stephen said lowly. He grabbed at your hand, holding it tight.

He pulled you away from Ben, not even looking behind him. You had left your drinks there on the counter since Stephen didn’t even give you a chance to grab them. You both pushed through the crowd with Stephen leading the way. You weren’t quite sure why Stephen was acting so oddly. He was usually fairly calm and collected, but the man before you seemed worried and panicked. Had you done something wrong?

When you were in an empty hallway, Stephen skilfully opened up a portal, taking you right back to the comfort of the sanctum. The event – and your drinks, and Ben – were far, far away. He shut the portal before turning to look at you with dark eyes. What on earth was going on with him?

“Why were you talking to that random guy?” he hissed, his eyes dark.

You raised an eyebrow. Why was he so pissed about a silly, little conversation you had been having?

“Relax,” you held your hands up. Why didn’t Stephen like Ben? “It’s not a big deal.”

“Yes, it is a big deal. You didn’t see it, that Ben guy was trying to get close to you.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. Stephen was usually reserved. Calm. Had his head on straight. But the Stephen standing before you was… Insecure. And… Jealous? You couldn’t help but smirk at his reaction. Interesting, you thought. You didn’t get to see Stephen get all jealous often. At least, he had never shown you his jealous side before. But you had to admit that you kind of liked it.

“You know,” you said lowly. “I might just go back to the event and go home with that Ben guy.”

Stephen let out a deep breath and shook his head at you. His fists were curled. His eyes were still dark. The jealousy was clear as day on his face.

“What did you just say?” he asked, voice low.

You gave him a rather sweet but calculating smile. It was fun to get under his skin, especially since he got worked up so easily. “I said… I might go back to the event and go home with that Ben guy.”

He somehow looked even more jealous. There was a fire in his eyes as he grabbed at your waist, pulling your body right up against his. He kissed you, shoving his tongue into your mouth. You were shocked. But you kissed him back, loving the feeling of his body up against yours as your lips moved together.

“No one else gets to touch you,” he muttered when he pulled away from your lips. “And no one else gets to make you feel good except for me.”

“It’s bold of you to assume that you make me feel good,” you smirked. “You know, Ben might be better…”

“Is this a test?”

You just smiled at his question.

Then he picked you up, holding you tight as he carried you to his bedroom – a place you had been to on many occasions. He placed you down on the bed before crawling on the mattress, resting his body on top of yours. You kissed again, tongues dancing together before his lips were on your neck. He sucked at the skin there, forcing a little whine out of you.

“I’m going to make you feel so good,” he whispered into your ear, his voice laced with lust. “So good that you’ll forget all about that Ben guy.”

He yanked off your dress and underwear, leaving your body all bare for him. He was still above you as he ran a skilled finger up and down your wet pussy lips, teasing you a little. You bit into your bottom lip, needing more than just his gentle touch. But he carried on. Kept running his finger up and down your slit slowly and softly.

You were literally on the verge of begging him to fuck you when he finally pushed two scarred fingers into you. You gasped, head rolling back at the sensation. Then he pumped his fingers in and out of you, fucking you with them. You moaned, getting lost in the pleasure. His thumb was on your clit a second later, rubbing at the sensitive bud. You cried out, the sound of Stephen’s fingers filling you up hitting your ears.

With a moan on his lips, he kissed you, and you eagerly kissed him back. Then he focused on your pussy again, playing with you with his talented fingers. It felt so good, but you needed more. Needed him to fuck you.

“Please fuck me,” you whimpered with big eyes.

“I don’t think you’ve earned that.” He pulled his fingers away from you.

“Please, please, please fuck me,” you pouted.

“Hm. You don’t deserve it after what you said to me about you and your little boyfriend Ben.”

“I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. I promise. Please. Just please fuck me. Need it so bad.”         

Your pleading words must have triggered something inside of Stephen, because he lifted himself off the bed and pulled off his own clothes. You sighed happily at the sight of his hard cock. You spread your legs for him, so ready and so willing. He kneeled between your spread legs, pumping his cock up and down before he aimed the tip at your dripping entrance. He ran his swollen tip up and down your pussy, teasing you yet again, before he finally pushed the tip of his cock into you. But then he stopped. He didn’t move at all, and you had no choice but to let out a desperate whine.

“Please fuck me,” you begged. “Please.”

All he did was smirk at you. He enjoyed teasing you far too much.

But you needed him. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him into you. His cock slowly filled you up to the hilt and you let out a thankful moan as Stephen grunted. Finally, you had his cock inside of you. You had him so deep in you, your pussy lips wrapped around him nice and tight.

“Fuck,” Stephen hissed out.

He didn’t move. He just stayed put, buried deep inside of you, your hole filled to the absolute brim. He stayed like that for a long moment, your little pussy getting his cock all wet before he pulled out and pushed back into you. A thankful hum left your lips as Stephen started to thrust in and out of you, your hands circling around his large form. You dragged your nails across his skin as pleasure began to overwhelm you. He was pumping into you slowly. All easy and steady, but you needed so much more than that.

“Please move faster,” you begged with a whine. “Please, Stephen.”

He did just that. He pulled back out, your pussy feeling empty for the longest second of your life before he filled you back up with his cock. He moved faster. Harder. His cock stretched you out just the way you needed it. He pounded into you, eyes never leaving yours as he took you. Stephen always fucked you so well. Always left you feeling satisfied. But tonight? Tonight was something else? He was fucking you like he had a point to prove, and you weren’t about to fight him on it.

“Oh, Stephen!” you let out, voice laced with total pleasure. Your toes were curling as he took you hard and fast, your head spinning a little.

Stephen kept fucking in and out of you, his thrusts deep and hard and oh so perfectly angled. You felt yourself gushing around his cock, creating a sticky mess between your thighs as he filled you up with his length.

“Who do you belong to?” Stephen asked, letting out a heavy pant. “Huh?”

You didn’t answer. You were too busy focusing on how damn good it felt to be filled up with him. You just whimpered in response.

Stephen pumped into you with a rough thrust. “I said: who do you belong to?”

He sounded so serious the second time. You knew you couldn’t ignore him at that point.

“I belong to you,” you managed to let out, your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

“Good,” he muttered, his voice laced with confidence. He kissed you hard and fast, tongues dancing together as he carried on fucking you. He moved in and out of you all rough and eager, his cock throbbing between your swollen lips.

He was so skilled. So good at making you his. You kept letting out long moans of pleasure, wanting him to know just how good he was making you feel.

“No one else gets to hear you scream out their name,” he hissed into your ear. “Only I get to hear you scream my name.”

You very much agreed. “Yes,” you whimpered out. That was the only word you could get out. The pleasure you were feeling had completely taken over.

Stephen fucked you more. And he gave you one wonderfully angled thrust, one thrust so deep that it hit that sweet spot deep inside of you. Your eyes widened when the tip of his cock met that sensitive spot within you. You needed to feel that again. You could feel your pussy growing wetter and wetter just from his cock alone.

“Oh, please don’t stop,” you pleaded with him. “Please, please, please don’t stop.”

“Fuck, I won’t,” he grunted out.

He kept his promise. He thrusted into you harder and faster, his tip making contact with that spot again and again. You couldn’t hang on for much longer. It just felt too good. You could feel your orgasm getting closer and you needed Stephen to know, needed him to know that your peak was just seconds away.

“I’m gonna cum,” you whispered. “Oh, Stephen. So close. Gonna cum for you.”

He seemed to pick up the pace at that, because a second later, he was pumping his cock in and out of you wildly. The sound of skin hitting skin filled the room as he took you and fucked you hard and deep. Your pussy felt so warm, so wet. You were dripping all over his cock, his length coated in your juices as he fucked you.

“Mm, you feel so good!” you cried out.

Then he pumped into you hard. He did it once. Twice. And then one more time – filling you right up to the hilt. And that was when your orgasm hit you. You felt the heat. You saw stars. Your ears rang as your pussy gushed around him and came. You were amazed that every single thrust managed to feel so good. Stephen was skilled. That much was for certain. And he was taking you in a way that you had never felt before thanks to his jealous side coming out. You had never felt anything so good as he pounded into you, his lust-filled eyes never leaving your face.

“Stephen!” you squealed, your pussy squeezing at him tight - especially since he kept fucking you, his thrusts relentless. He filled you up so deep, fucking you right through your toe-curling orgasm.

“Fuck,” he grunted deeply, still giving you his cock. He wouldn’t stop. Wouldn’t stop pumping you full of his thick, throbbing length. “Fuck, Y/N. I’m gonna fucking cum. So fucking close.”

“Please cum inside me,” you pouted up at him. “Please cum inside me. Please.”

He thrusted in and out of you, giving you every inch of his cock. His eyes were dark and focused on you before he muttered out your name and a deep, drawn-out “fuck”. His eyes shut and his lips parted as he let out a rough moan, your tight pussy wrapped right around his cock.

You felt his cock twitch inside of you, your tight pussy clenching around him. Then he hissed and shot out load after load of cum deep into your pussy, filling you right up with the sticky liquid. Your eyes shut as you got lost in the sensation of him emptying himself inside of you. He moved in and out of you, his pace slowing down, before he finally pulled himself out of your pussy. 

He laid down next to you, panting heavily – just as you were. That had been intense. You were both gasping hard, the two of you trying to get your breath back. It took a minute or two but you finally moved over to lay down on his chest. He felt so warm. So welcoming. He circled a strong arm around your shoulders, pulling you tighter against him.

The two of you didn’t say anything for a little while. And you were happy to lay there, enjoying his warm hands on you. His touch was gentle. Comforting. But then Stephen broke the silence.

“So, do you still think that Ben guy could do better than me?” he asked you lowly.

You stared up at him, blinking a few times. Then you gave him a warm smile. “No. I don’t think anyone could beat you.”

Stephen chuckled. He seemed happy with your answer. That jealousy that had once been in his eyes was all gone. Instead, he seemed more than happy to be right there by your side. The two of you went quiet again. There wasn’t anything else to say at that point. You just knew you could feel yourself growing more and more tired as the seconds passed. The day had already been long. And after what you and Stephen had just done, you were beyond exhausted.

So you laid there. Happily. There was so much comfort as you rested on Stephen’s chest, your eyes slowly fluttering shut. Soon you were met with sleep and darkness, but you knew one thing for sure: there really was no way that anyone could take you better than Stephen could.

[wakeup01]

A Matching Pair

Goddammit. Why does he always have to argue about it. Can’t he ever put himself in my shoes and try and be more understanding.” I mumble to myself as my boyfriend fades out of sight down the empty train car. I sigh and stare out the window of the train, listening to the world outside shudder past.

“This space free?” Comes an excited voice, I look up to see a fit young guy casually drop onto the seat opposite me. He looked no older than 22 and was outfitted for some kind of sports game, with a designer tracksuit sagging off his hips, a red jersey that pressed against his lean stomach and a glossy puffer jacket.

“Uhhh…not really.” I remark, side-eying his trendy permed hair, perfectly styled and faded. I had never really understood the appeal of…‘fuckboys’; rich but devoid of personality - aside from the prepackaged one they adopt. In this case even I had to admit that he was rather attractive, in a blunt, dumb ‘grammer is for losers’ sort of way. There was a casual air of confidence in the way he carried himself, narcissistic? Sure, but maybe a little ego didn’t hurt, especially in the bedroom.

Shame he obviously wouldn’t be a sub - he’d look nice around my cock, although I can picture my boyfriend tripping over himself to placate his every whim. The perks of this ‘open relationship’ we had seemed increasingly one sided. Ugh. I’m quickly reminded of our argument, and my indignation wins out over my misguided lust.

“Mate, you look proper mad.” He chuckles, kicking off his trainers. He stretches out his legs and rests them on the seat next to mine.

“Name’s Dominic and I’m not….mad.” My voice trails off.

“Uh oh. Who is she then blud?” He gestures at me with his hands, rattling the horde of bracelets that buried his wrists.

“He.”

“Pftt. I should ‘av guessed. It’s all the same to me. I’m Trev ‘btw’. You off to the gay convention?” There’s a wry smile that is hard to be angry at, in fact I feel strangely comfortable with him. He seemed like a good listener.

“Funny, but yes. Meeting our friend Nate there.” I cross my arms in a futile attempt to appear more dominant.

“Wait, they have those now?” My eyes squint at him. “Just fucking with you. I got a game the next town over. I’m a player.”

“Wow, you don’t say.”

“Maybe you’ve seen me play on the tele eh?” He puts on a face and flashes his shiny white teeth proudly.

“Sure…” He was in a professional team? Like I’d know.

“So spill, what’s the issue with yuh ‘boy’? His ‘bussy’ too small?” My mouth begins to move before I really get the chance to think about what I’m saying, or why I’m telling him at all.

“Ugh. He just never tries to see things from my perspective, he always expects me to play the ‘top’. About everything. And I don’t share his weird kinks.”

“TMI. Oh. You’re the top? And your name is Dom? ‘Lolz’. Is your boy called SUBastian?” He laughs mischievously. His brazen use of text speech was strangely endearing, something I thought impossible.

“Dominic. And no, his name’s Addy.” I correct, flatly.

“Uh huh. Yeah, and have you tried the same? See things from Addy’s point of view. Find equal ground right. Maybe I can help. It’s like when there’s a disagreement in our footy team.”

“I don’t think it’s quite the same thing…”

“Should give it a try Dom, see how it feels to be the sub. It can be fun to let someone else take charge. Easy too when you don’t overthink it. Go on, just lay back and relax.” Yes, I’m sure this will solve all our problems. I humour him anyway, resting my back against the seat’s cushion. Ten seconds pass in silence, just the hum of the train carriage throbbing rhythmically.

“This is stupid-“

“Shush.” Trev stares at me intently, trapping my eyes into his own. I don’t think to look away, why would I. He continues talking, I hear the words floating past me but don’t register what they are. It feels like minutes until his fingers snap in front of his face, and the spell is broken. He just smiles and waits expectantly for me to reply. His legs move from the seat next to me and I follow their movement.

“I—I guess.” I stutter, unsure of what I’m replying to, feeling slightly dizzy, like waking from a dream. For some reason my eyes seem drawn to his feet, now resting on the edge of my own seat, fidgeting between my thighs. I didn’t notice that they were sockless before… or that they were so big.

“Deeper.” He snaps his fingers again. My eyes are feeling so heavy, it’s becoming harder to keep them open. “Picture your boy sitting in your place. See it in your head.” I think about him, see his dreamy smile, like the one growing on my face. “So easy.” Trev repeats, my head nodding absently to his words. He adjusts and pushes his feet against my groin. Hmmf. I should tell him to stop. To stop…

“Uhh.” The dull sound leaves my lips instead of the words I wanted, the rubbing sensation fraying the edges of my thoughts.

Trev’s fingers fiddle at his pockets. He pulls out a vape stick and blows a huge bubblegum flavoured cloud of smoke into my face. The fumes flow through my open mouth and circle my head. His hands appear to be moving in slow motion, like everything was suddenly at half speed.

“Being in charge is exhausting huh. Much better to just relax and follow along, like your boyfriend would.” Yeah, he would probably do whatever this guy asked him to.

“I bet he’d rub my feet If I told him to.”

“Yeah.” I agree, wrapping my hands around Trev’s chunky feet - he definitely would. I run my fingers up and down his sole, picturing my boyfriend in this situation.

“Eyes up here fam.”

*snap*

I look back up at him, falling into his stare once more, entranced. My hands continue to massage him, passing over the curves and arches of his large feet. The shame of doing this in a public place completely lost on me. “Good foot boy.” I fail to hold back a moan at the validation. Is this what it feels like? It feels…nice, good.

I sense my body start to slowly lean forward of its own volition. Trev loudly exhales, his lips pursing. Another dose of bubblegum mist fogs my view. “What else would your boy do?”

“Don’t know…”

“Bet he’d love to sniff my lush feet hm?”

Probably, I think. He was way more kinky than me about such things. This guy’s feet were quite ripe after all, maybe if I got a bit closer…no—no what am I doing? I begin to pull back when his intense eyes narrow at me.

“It’s okay. I can see you want to take a whiff too. Boy.” His inflection changed on the last word. There was something about the way he said it. Powerful.

“My—my boyfriend will be-“ My voice cracks.

“Put your fucking nose here. And sniff my cheesy feet.” He orders, accentuating each word, dropping all pretence - his finger snapping and pointing down.

It’s like a switch being pressed in my head. The words cut like a knife right through any lingering hesitation. My face lowers and inhales deeply, sucking up his harsh scent.

“Yeah.” I mumble from behind his feet in a daze.

“Yeah what?”

*snap snap*

“Yes sir.” I don’t know why I said it, it just slipped from my lips and then it was too late to take it back. Too late to stop, as my face leans down to his foot like a magnet. Too late to pretend I didn’t want a sniff, my nostrils breathing the thick musky air.

“A good start boy.” I tentatively take a couple more whiffs, a part of me still attempting to hold back, feeling self aware. He rolls his eyes and shoves his feet forcefully into my face, my nose pushed snugly between his big toe. His stench shrouds my head like a cloud. The concept of ‘disgusting’ faded to nothingness.

“Salt and vinegar flavour, your fav.” Trev asserts. It became true the moment the words left his lips. Salty and eye watering. My favourite. My cock liked it too apparently.

“You look so much better under me, worshiping me - where you belong. Keep going.” And I did. Breathing deeply, in and out. In and out. The heat from his foot radiates outwards, travelling down my body, seeping into my skin. “Wouldn’t your boy agree to be at my feet at all times If that’s what I wanted?” He—I would. I want nothing else.

“Of course sir.” I say, unaware that the words would seal my fate.

Something is changing. A shift in weight. My whole body starts to feel lighter, filling with air. My skin itches, a rash forming across it’s surface - bleaching every inch an even, clean white. The rash crawls down my chest, flattening my modest set of abs, leaving everything it touches incredibly soft, absorbent and flexible. Tiny strands of fuzzy cotton fabric poke out from each pore; the changes showed no sign of stopping.

Everything is happening all at once, alarms try and go off in my brain but it’s preoccupied swimming in a musky drunken stupor. My feet seem to leave the floor as my form inexplicably shrinks, the length of my arms folding inwards as my body simplifies.

“Look at you bruv. You were easy as fuck.” I gaze up at him, his smug face towering over me, looking so far away. A puff of vape smoke floats down towards me, particles dissolving on my cushioned skin. The sweet aroma mixes with the smell of his sour feet. “Just one look into my eyes and you were done. Get socked bro.”

Trev started to appear bigger and bigger, his feet dwarfing my new size, now taking up my whole view. It was like my essence was being pulled around his foot. My mouth opens and his toes slip effortlessly inside, stretching me out and making themselves at home. The rest of his foot follows, his ankle resting at my opening. It sets off my gag reflex momentarily, before feeling perfectly natural, like I was tailor made for his foot.

“Sorry bud, they’re a size 13.”

The taste of his potent sole explodes into me. I’m violently shaken out of my trance-like haze, the world around me speeds up. I try and desperately pull away, lucidity returning like a slap to the face. Why am I on the floor? Why is his foot in my mouth?! Oh shit oh shit!

“Get socked!” Trev yells enthusiastically. “Get fucking socked!”

Control is slipping away. My skin pulls taut around his foot, the fabric digging between his toes. It feels as though every part of me is pressed against him, his warmth surrounding me. My new shape settles into place, defined by his smooth curves.

I can’t move my ‘body’ at all, but all my senses still persist…somehow. My blurry vision clears, a sudden shift in view makes me disoriented. It’s as if I have a pov of the room from the bottom of Trev’s foot, he lowers it to the floor and my worldview erratically drops to carpet level before going dark. The material of the carpet brushes against me, the strange sensation is embarrassingly pleasing; bringing attention to the absence of my cock. Relief now seemed impossible.

“Socked. Man, I love that initial freshness. Tbh, it makes the inevitable even more fun.”

He pushes the weight of his foot into me, his sweaty soles sticking to my tight fabric body. It feels humiliating to be literally stuck on the ground. His stench clings to me, soaking me in his foot musk. The imprint of his toes yellowing my surface. It’s like having his foot down my throat, perpetually swallowing his mind numbing sweat.

“Mmm that’s good, you hang so tightly. A perfect fit. Hope you like sucking on my rank fucking toes. Cuz now you’re just my stinky ripe sock. Fucking idiot. Can’t wait to get you worn in.”

That’s not possible, I can’t be a sock…it defies logic. This is a nightmare I’m about to wake up from, any second now…any second…

He pulls at me and stretches my ribbed opening up and over his tracksuit, stuffing the silky material into me.

“So much more… pliable.” Trev wiggles his toes and my body conforms to it’s every movement, lodging in between each one. I try and desperately struggle, do something. I manage to achieve a light wriggle that only helps pull myself tighter against his skin.

Trev lifts his foot and points it towards the window, the dark night air rushing past outside. A clear reflection echoes back. I stare at it in disbelief, wanting to blink the reality from my eyes. A caricature of my shocked face is crudely printed on the underside of the sock - trapped frozen in time, with the word ‘SNIFF’ sewn into the fabric. The material was already beginning to discolour. Logic or not, That’s all I am now - a cheap white sock. His sock. An object.

“Basic as fuck boy makes basic as fuck sock. Lit.” He points out, smirking in the reflection while he checks out his new kit. Trev puts his feet back up on the seat, letting me watch the empty space where I had been sitting - back when I was more than just his property.

“Enjoy the view, while you can cheesy. You’re going to spend most of your time staring at the floor, or the inside of my fumigated sneaker.” What joy. I hadn’t even thought about that, about what comes next. Surely he didn’t plan to keep me like this? “Hmm. I think the name Dominic is a bit too fancy for you now, how about…sock. Simple, to the point.” Trev steps me back against the ground, his heel slightly raised. “Suits you, don’t you think sock?”

Light footsteps thud from down the carriage, getting closer and closer. “Hey babe. I wanted to apologise, Nate thinks—who are you? Umm where’s my boyfriend?” Addy had returned, this was my chance.

I wanted to shout and cry out to him, to get his attention anyway possible. I conjured a barely audible rustle and then nothing. All it did was reinforce how small and subservient I now felt, forced to listen to my owner in silence.

“Oh he’s not gone far, cutie. Sit.”

I hear my boyfriend stammer from above. All it took was one compliment and he turned to putty. In most cases it was endearing, but right now I needed him to be anything but agreeable.

I feel the weight on me shift. I glide through the air again, Addy’s expression coming into view across from me, from us.

“He’s…” Addy looks me over curiously.

“Yep. He got socked.”

“Gosh. That’s…hot.” His cheeks blush.

WHAAT! You’ve got to be kidding me! Damn, why did he have to be so kinky when I need him to rescue me. I can recognise his horny face a mile away.

“Now it’s your turn. Look at my eyes.” Trev’s voice taking on a more serious tone. Addy’s eyes dart up, quickly becoming ensnared by Trev’s hypnotic gaze. No, please snap out of it. “Good, keep looking. Relax. Let me give you the deets. In a few minutes you’re gonna have the privilege of having my foot up your arse, sucking up my sweat as a thin piece of fabric like your bf. You’ll be my sock puppet, controlled completely by my foot. You can already feel my toes pushing at your mind. You want it. Say it.” Trev waves me back and forth, hypnotically.

“But…mmm,”

“Say it.”

*snap*

“I — I want to be your smelly sock puppet. Pleaseee Master.” He moans in a trance.

“Course you do.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Addy’s shorts were noticeably tenting, a wet spot forming at the tip. He was getting off on the idea! “Sock puppet. Look at your boy, read the word sewn into him. You know what to do.”

Addy’s head leans towards me, eclipsing my vision. His huge nose presses up against me, his eyes dilating. I can feel his wavering breath brush at my cotton skin. He did exactly what the sock - me, said to and sniffed. The hesitant whiffs quickly devolve into enthusiastic huffing.

“Babeee. Hmmf. You smell so niceee. Mmmm.”

“That’s an obedient sock sniffing sock puppet.” Trev assured him. ”Now onto the other one.” Addy moves away from my view, I can only see him shuffling at the edge of my narrow locked vision. “Ready to join him?”

“Yes masterrrr.” Addy’s voice slurs monotonously. “Enter me and take control. We’re both yours.” Like hell we are!

“I want you to lick this foot clean like a dirty dog before it becomes your new home.” I hear him start to slobber all over Trev. “Good puppet. Get socked.”

The sound of my boyfriend licking and moaning in heat continued for what felt like an eternity. There was nothing I could do but be suspended in the air like my owner deemed appropriate.

“It’s time to become a puppet. Turn around and spread that cute bubble butt. There we go, feel my foot enter your rear, filling you up, fucking your tiny brain. Ufff. Tight. Fuck. Let’s stretch you out, nice and wide. Ahh that’s better. Your hole clamping around my ankle. Yeah. Becoming soft and flexible. A sock puppet. A sweat guzzling, empty-headed, dirty filthy sock puppet.” I can just about see Addy’s head, craning back in pleasure as he’s foot fucked.

“Butt feels…Hnng my—my body…” Addy pants desperately.

“Now belongs to my fat fucking foot. SOCK. PUPPET.

“Pu—puppet.” Addy’s bobbing head pulls out of sight, compressing around the invader inside him.

“Sock puppet. Surrendered all free will. Sock puppet. Commanded by feet. What are you?”

“I’m a sock… a sock puppet. Mmmmf…I’m a soooommfff.”

His voice goes silent. I can only assume he’s turning into a perfect match for Trev’s other foot. The thought horrifies me, but also gets me a little excited. I glimpse a pristine white shape shudder next to me. Trev sits up and places both feet flat on the ground, in order to admire his new additions to the collection.

“Hell yeah. You two make the cutest pair. Glad I could help bring you ‘together’. And no more worries about disagreements ‘lmao’. Go on, kiss and make up.”

Trev bends his legs and points me at Addy’s new form, his lustful face captured on the socks sole; the word ‘LICK’ was immortalised above. I was for sniffing and he for licking, it made a bizarre kind of sense to my addled brain. He brings his feet together and rubs us both against each other, our ‘faces’ pressed closely. My mind blurs, the friction bringing searing white hot bliss. God it’s amazing. He was so soft! Please more. More! Babe. Don’t stop. Get socked!

Trev eventually pulls us apart, I watch the folds of Addy’s loose fabric pull taut, finalising his transformation. He made a cute sock, just like me. We were now on equal footing. Wait, what am I thinking? This is insane, I don’t want this! Was I stuck like this? Would it be really so bad? No, stop.

I realised that the smell was permeating my thoughts, twisting them. Knowing that didn’t change how good it felt, how good his touch felt, his musk.

“Don’t worry, when I go to replace you I’ll be sure to sell you on as a pair to one of my foot sluts. Let’s be honest, as socks go, you’re kinda ‘mid’ at best.” The comment did nothing to reassure me about turning back to human. “Man you gay nerds are so dumb, none of you can resist my scent. It’s like you want to be part of my fit. Even my sneaks gave more of a struggle than you two lovebirds. All I need now is some new undies to stretch over my ass and hug my fat dong and balls. Know anyone?” Trev pauses and then laughs to himself.

As each minute passed my mind became more subdued, it was relaxing, becoming content. The part that was angry, defiant, was shrinking. A bubbling happiness was slowly expanding within me. I did my best to push it back but with my senses overwhelmed, it was a seemingly losing battle. Addy was probably already loving every second of it.

“Let’s have some fun. Which one of you will make a good cum sock? Who am I kidding, you’ll both be great. But for now…”

He peels me free from his foot, holding me limply in the air. For a moment I feel incredibly empty, already missing his warmth. The disappointment is short lived; I’m quickly filled out as he pulls me over a stiff pole. His cock. His glorious thick shaft. I’m forced to swallow it whole, it’s tip poking at my edges.

With his hand around me he wanks me furiously, using me as sleeve. ‘Don’t enjoy it’, I shout internally. This sucks. This sucks! It’s hard to ignore the pleasure it brings the both of us. Oh god I’m being stretched out by him completely. It sucks. Sucks… this…mmm. Faster. Go faster! Fill me! Cum inside me, mark me as yours!

My sexy owners pumping reaches a crescendo, now with both hands thrusting me up and down. One final tug. A grunt. A twitch. Thick copious splooge unloads right into me, flooding my interior. His fuckboy seed is absorbed into me, my cotton body sucking up every drop. A dark patch spreads across me and crusts over as it dries. The bitter taste lingers, like the cum was sat on my tongue.

“Fuck me, that was sweet. But enough fun.” Trev pulls me off his dick and janks me back over his foot, his toes push against my cum stained dark spot, still damp.

Trev’s phone starts to ring with some loud trap song. “Trev. Yeah. Yeah mate. Course, you fucka. Be arriving soon. Mint, I got me some new gear too. Ace. Uh huh…K, chat tomorrow.”

What would have normally been inane babble to me made a concerning amount of sense, like his identity was somehow rubbing off on me.

He stands up, dragging something over to him with his other foot. I’m lifted high into the air, tauntingly hovering over his beat up shoe. I can’t help but look down at my future smelly prison. I don’t think my mind can take any more…

It didn’t help knowing that the sneaker was once a guy, now heavily used. It was like seeing a glimpse of my own fate. Mmmm.

“Let’s get you acquainted.”

I see the trainer hurtle towards me as I’m lowered to the floor. My edges slide effortlessly into the pungent confines of his sneaker, the thick stale air engulfing me. I’m pressed against the stained sole and squelch against it’s moist surface; the outline of his foot clearly indented into the material. My vision goes pitch black.

The stench is blasted at me from all sides. Fuck me. I don’t stand a chance against it, my mind is drowned beneath its waves. Sinking below as new, more simple desires emerge.

There’s a muffled sound of an announcement playing overhead. “Guess this is where we get off lads. I should probably warn you, me mates and I have a footie match tomorrow. And I don’t plan on removing you, after that I expect you won’t even want to be turned back. Not that I ever planned to. I’m sure you stinkheads don’t object? Sorted.”

I didn’t object, in fact, I— I think I was looking forward to it. My printed face would probably be completely yellow by the end of it, as it should. Mmm.

The weight of his foot lifts as I feel myself rise from the floor and then just as quickly I’m pushed back down to the ground. My boyfriend being subject to the same in tandem. A second later and it happens again and then again, each step the strength of his body squishes me against the shoes insole, which sticks to my surface. And each time, my brain is submerged in a pleasant sweaty haze, scattering whatever dim thoughts I had left. The weight flattening my mind to sodden mush. Rewarding me for fulfilling my role as his smelly, mindless sock, us both huffing at our owners beautiful addictive feet. Together.

“Maybe we should stop off at that gay convention first, see how many noses we can get pressed against you two while you get sucked dry. Plus, we could find that friend of yours to get wrapped around my big sweaty butt.”

Yeahhh…I bet Nate would make a perfect pair of fucking briefs.

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Sexy Baby?

(x)

Summary: Y/N is humiliated. Can meeting Jensen make things better? (P.S. Sometimes I hate writing summaries. 😩😄)

Pairing: Jensen x Plus-sized!eader (Y/N)

Warnings: None really. Embarrassed reader. Hurt reader. Body shaming asshole. Kissing. Fluff. Jensen being the ultimate, incredible man. 😁❤️

Word Count: 4,168

A/N: This fic was a request by a lovely anon. It turned out fluffier and less smutty than I was originally thinking, Nonny, so I hope it still works for you. ❤️

This fic also incorporates this gif request sent in by @suckitands33 for my 2K followers celebration. Here is the gif I reference in this fic:

(x)

This was meant to be a drabble request, and looking at the word count you can see that this is most decidedly NOT a drabble. 😄 But I hope you like what I've come up with anyway. ❤️

If you enjoy the fic, please consider reblogging and/or leaving a comment. It means a lot. ❤️

A/N 2: As always this fic is about a different, multiverse version of Jensen, who is single. This is a complete and utter work of fiction.

It was one of Y/N’s most humiliating experiences during what should have been one of her most exciting moments.

She'd waited years and years to get to a Supernatural convention. She'd been a fan of the show for a very long time, and she simply adored the whole cast. The camaraderie of the boys and the kindness of the whole SPN Family had helped her through some very dark times. 

So to finally be at a con, and standing in line, waiting for a photo op with her absolute favorite actor of all time, Jensen Ackles? It felt like a dream. 

But she was so nervous. She'd never met anyone famous, let alone the guy she'd had a crush on for nearly half her life. Jensen was beautiful beyond words, sexy and charming, and everyone seemed to fall in love with him. So meeting him was daunting to say the least. 

As she approached the front of the line she finally got a look at him as he posed with other fans. He wore a slightly distressed, light beige sweater and tight fitting black jeans. He was so unbelievably tall in person, so solid, and if possible, even more gorgeous than he was on film. That magnetism he had, the kind that lit up the screen so easily and quickly drew everyone into the characters he played, was on full display and almost too brilliant in real life. She felt her lower belly tighten as butterflies erupted inside her. 

Finally, when Y/N was second in line, Jensen looked over and caught her eye, giving her a little smile and a wave. She blushed beet red and waved back, feeling like a complete idiot, but beaming nonetheless.

The woman in front of her walked up to Jensen and made a suggestion for a pose. One of the handlers seemed like they weren’t sure about allowing it, but Jensen waved away their worries, smiling at the fan and nodding, saying something that made her giggle. Then he wrapped his arm around her back and under her legs, picking her up from the ground. The woman squealed slightly, but then they did the pose. The woman had her arms flung wide in celebration, smile shining, and Jensen had his mouth open in a comically huge smile. It looked like they’d both won the lottery or something.

It was adorable.

Then it was finished and it was Y/N’s turn. She tried to take deep, steadying breaths as the previous fan said goodbye quickly. Before she walked up though, a staff member approached Jensen. He looked like he worked for the venue and not Creation, because he wore a uniform with the hotel’s name emblazoned on the back. Jensen’s smile shrank as he walked up; he didn’t look particularly happy to see him. 

The guy said something about switching rooms for autographs and Jensen just nodded. Then, as he was leaving, he looked over at Y/N waiting to be next, and turned to Jensen with a mocking smile.

“Wouldn’t try that last pose with this one.” He said with a nod towards Y/N at the front of the line.

Y/N felt like someone had kicked her in the stomach. All the air left her lungs and her eyes welled up instantly, her chest was immediately on fire from the shame she was swallowing down in big gulps.

She’d been chubby her whole life; she couldn’t remember a time when she wasn’t dieting and desperately trying to lose weight. It was her biggest insecurity that she couldn’t slip under 250 pounds no matter what she tried. She’d been that weight for a decade or more and no amount of dieting or exercising seemed to change that. 

She was also tall for a woman, and so she often felt like…how did Taylor put it?

Sometimes I feel like everybody is a sexy baby And I'm a monster on the hill

And now here she was in front of the man she’d dreamt about and fantasized about for so long, and this was how he was going to see her now - the way this jackass saw her.

She felt sick to her stomach.

She let her glance skitter to Jensen, but he wasn’t looking at her, he was glaring at the guy who was starting to walk away. He followed him and in two long strides caught him, grabbing his arm and spinning the guy around to face him.

They were close enough now that Y/N could hear what they were saying, even though Jensen was speaking in an angry, whiphard, whisper.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

The guy flung his arms out. “Come on, man. It was just a joke.”

Jensen shook his head and his face was like stone. “No, it wasn’t. And you know how I know it wasn’t a joke? Cause it wasn’t fucking funny. You’re an asshole, and if I catch you saying shit like that again about anybody here, I’ll be talking to your boss, and letting them know that we'll be looking for another venue next year.” He gave him a humorless smile. “And I’ll be sure to tell him just who he has to thank for that.”

The guy mumbled something that must have been an apology because Jensen let go of his arm and the guy beat a swift retreat. Y/N watched Jensen take a deep breath and then he approached her at the front of the line. 

She knew the people around her had heard what the guy said because they were calling the guy a prick too and telling her to ignore his bullshit. The woman behind her, who she’d never met, was rubbing circles on her back, trying to soothe the pain the jackass had caused.

That kind gesture along with the way Jensen held out his hand towards her and smiled so warmly, made tears start to fall silently. She couldn’t help it. She took Jensen’s warm hand and allowed him to pull her over to stand in front of the camera, quickly brushing her tears away with her free hand.

She’d never wanted to be in a picture less, and as they approached the spot, she shook her head and tried to pull her hand free.

She cleared her throat and stared at the floor. “Maybe, I’ll just…could I just get the picture with just you in it? Any pose you want to do will be fine.” She said, her slightly stuffy nose muffling her words.

Jensen turned back to her and tilted his head to catch her eye. “I can, if you want, but I’d sure love a picture with you. Whaddya say?” He asked with a bright smile.

Y/N realized it would be physically impossible to say no to this man, so she shrugged and walked into position in front of the camera.

“What pose do you want, sweetheart?” 

Y/N swallowed hard and forced herself not to cry. “Would you just…I’d just like a hug, if that’s okay.”

Jensen nodded. “Absolutely.”

So he opened his arms and Y/N stepped into them. She wrapped her hands under his arms and around his ribcage. His left arm was closest to the camera and he wrapped that one around her shoulders. His right arm came up over her shoulders too, but he used that hand to press her cheek to his chest, and he rested his chin on the top of her head. She closed her eyes and sighed deeply.

She’d never felt so cocooned in safety in her whole life. His arms were strong around her, applying just the right pressure to make her feel completely protected. After the way her heart had just been pulverized, it felt healing. She wanted to stay right there forever.

She heard the click of the camera, though, and opened her eyes. Jensen kept her wrapped in his arms for a little longer, before giving her an extra squeeze and stepping back.

“Thank you.” Y/N said shyly.

“Thank you.” Jensen responded, cupping her shoulder briefly. “Take care. Hope to see you again this weekend.”

Y/N nodded, grateful for his kindness, but recognizing that he felt bad for her too which brought on more embarrassment. So she just nodded at Chris who was snapping the pictures, and took off out of the photo op area. 

She went to the bathroom immediately and locked herself in the stall, allowing herself to cry quietly at length. For more than half an hour she sat in the stall, covering her mouth to keep from making too much noise. But finally her tears slowed and then dried up, the crack in her heart receding into just another scar there. She stayed in the bathroom another twenty minutes, dabbing at her puffy eyes with cool paper towels.

When she felt she was presentable enough, she finally left the restroom and headed over to pick up her photo op package. As she stood by the table, waiting for hers to show up, one of the women she recognized as a handler approached her. 

She smiled kindly, though she seemed a little frazzled which Y/N could definitely understand. “Hi! We actually picked up your photo op. If you follow me, we can get it for you.”

Y/N thought that was a little odd. Was there something wrong with the picture? But she nodded and followed along quickly as the handler practically sprinted away.

They walked down a hallway in the hotel and then through a couple of doors until they emerged in a mostly empty hallway, just a few employees scurrying around busily. Finally the woman she was following stopped and knocked lightly on a door, waiting a moment and then opening it and showing Y/N into a beautifully appointed suite. The furniture was subtly luxurious and elegant, the floors and fixtures were cool and understated while still being sleek and trendy.

But by far the most beautiful part of the room was the man sitting on the couch, one leg crossed over the other, with what looked like a script in his hand.

He looked up as they walked in and a smile broke out on his face as he dropped the script onto the table in front of him. “Hey! We found you! Thanks Amanda!”

Amanda nodded and shot him a smile. “No problem!” She said as she spun around and took off, closing the door behind her and suddenly leaving Y/N alone with Jensen.

As though he was reading her mind, Jensen pointed towards the door. “If you’d feel more comfortable, we can open it again.”

But Y/N couldn’t have felt less afraid or worried about her safety being alone with the man in front of her, so she just shook her head. She was bound to act like an idiot in front of him and the less prying eyes watching that the better. 

Jensen smiled. “Okay, well do you want a drink? Help yourself.” He said, pointing to a table with coffee, tea, and water bottles. “We could probably get you a coke or something, if you’d rather.”

She shook her head again, but forced herself to utter words this time. “No thank you, I’m fine.”

“Okay, well in that case you’re probably wondering what the hell I tracked you down for.” He said with a soft smile.

Y/N smiled back. “A little.”

Jensen waved at the spot beside him on the couch. “Wanna sit down?”

She took him up on that offer since her knees were a little wobbly and she didn’t really trust them. 

He reached over to the table beside the couch and pulled up a glossy 8x10 photo. “Well, to begin with, I do have your photo.”

He handed it over and Y/N felt herself blush. Despite the fact that she was in it, it was a beautiful picture. Her eyes were closed and so were Jensen’s as he held her protectively cuddled against him. The picture would always remind her of just how safe she’d felt in that moment, and she was grateful to take it home.

“Thank you.” She said quietly. “You were great.” 

“And you were beautiful.” He shook his head. “No, you ARE beautiful.”

Y/N felt her cheeks flush an even deeper red. “It’s really okay, I’m fine. I mean the guy was a jerk, but you don’t have to try and make me feel better. It’s hardly the first time.” She shrugged. “I can take it.”

Jensen shifted slightly closer to her, turning on the couch so he was facing her. “I’m not trying to make you feel better.”

She shot him a disbelieving look and he chuckled. “Well, I guess I am, but that’s just a bonus of telling you the truth. And the truth is, Y/N, you're beautiful.” 

Y/N shot him a slightly wide-eyed look. “How do you know my name?”

He pointed to her picture and smiled. “I got it from the photo op package. Promise I’m not psychic. Or a stalker”

Y/N giggled and covered her mouth at the sound, apologizing. “Sorry.”

Jensen reached up and pulled her hand away from her smile. “Don’t do that. Don’t cover up your laugh and certainly don’t apologize for it.”

Y/N shrugged again and looked down at her lap and the hand that Jensen still held. He came slightly closer and tipped up her chin.

“I wanted to see you because the last thing I wanted was for you to walk away from this weekend thinking less of yourself because of some asshole with a big mouth and a mean streak. It was…”He took a deep breath. “It was bothering me a lot.”

Y/N was frustrated with herself that she couldn’t stop the tears that formed again at Jensen’s kind words. She dashed them away quickly with her free hand. 

“Sorry.” She apologized again. “I know I don’t owe some rude jackass my tears and hurt, but sometimes it’s hard to just shove them down, you know.”

Jensen cupped her cheek warmly and brushed his thumb across her cheekbone. “Don’t shove them down, sweetheart, throw them away. His words are bullshit. They’re just wrong. Wanna know how I know?”

Y/N nodded, completely mesmerized by his mossy green gaze as he answered, his voice vehement. “I know he’s wrong, because it’s obvious for anyone to see that you’re utterly beautiful.”

Y/N started to scoff, but he cut her off. “I wanted to kiss you. Still do.”

Y/N choked heartily on the words that sputtered out of her, forgetting how to breathe normally. Jensen looked slightly abashed and it was his turn to stare at his lap. “God, I hope you don’t think I’m some creepy weirdo. I’m not…I don’t expect anything from you…this isn’t…” 

He sighed. “Shit, I didn’t mean to just blurt it out like that. I just wanted to try and make you understand that I’m not lying to make you feel better, I’m not just trying to make a sweet girl feel better about herself, though I want you to. But I wanted you to know that I was and am genuinely, undeniably attracted to you. From the moment I looked over and saw you standing in that line.”

He shrugged and shifted back slightly. “But I totally get if I’ve creeped you out and you wanna go. I’m sorry.”

But Y/N just stared at him bug eyed. She spoke softly and slowly, still stammering slightly. “You wa-wanna kiss m-me.”

He gave her a lopsided smile and a shrug. “It’s the truth.”

“Since you saw me in line?” She said by way of clarification.

He nodded. “Yep.”

She blinked rapidly and then bit her lip. She caught the way Jensen’s eyes flickered down to her mouth and the way his gaze heated, setting her body on fire. 

“Oh my god.” She whispered in disbelief. Then she shook her head and grinned at him. “Well, I’ve wanted to kiss you for about a decade…so…” She trailed off and Jensen gave a surprised laugh that turned into a warm and mischievous smile. 

“Well, in that case,” he said slowly, “I think you should go first.” He tapped lightly on his cupid’s bow mouth, indicating that she should kiss him there and Y/N thought she might actually pass out. 

She leaned forward tentatively, her head cloudy and the world around her surreal, and pressed her lips to his very briefly and gently before pulling back.

Jensen opened his eyes and a slow sexy smile spread across his face. “That was sweet, darlin’. But I gotta say, ten years of thinking and that’s all you got? I’ve been thinking about you for barely two hours, and I can promise you, I imagined way more than that sweet little angel kiss.”

Y/N felt her lower belly clench with want. “Okay, then show me.” She said, hardly able to believe her daring. 

But it felt like she was being presented with a buffet of her favorite foods when she’d been starving and there was no way she was going to pass up the opportunity in front of her.

Jensen leaned forward and slid his big hand into her hair, holding her head in place as he pressed his mouth to hers gently, taking teasing sips from her lips and making her whimper slightly. She was embarrassed by the sound, but it made Jensen tighten his grip in her hair and growl slightly into her open mouth, finally sweeping his tongue inside and completely devouring her. 

Y/N grabbed onto Jensen’s soft sweater and fisted it in her hands over and over, reveling in the feel of hard muscle beneath her palms. Jensen kissed her long and lustfully. His left hand stayed bunched in her hair, but he let his right hand slide up and down her arm before he slid it around to push against her back, just between her shoulder blades. 

He pressed her tightly to his chest as he continued to rob her of air. Finally, he broke off the kiss, leaving them both panting as he pressed his lips just beneath her jaw and down her neck. 

Her mind felt like it was on fire, everything was spinning and the world was just going too fast. As though he really was the psychic he denied being, Jensen seemed to know she needed to catch her breath, figuratively and literally, and he pulled back to press his forehead to hers.

“Sorry, got a little carried away.”

She shook her head vehemently. “No, no…that was…you’re perfect.”

Jensen chuckled. “You stole the words right out of my mouth, sweetheart.”

When they’d regained their breath, Jensen kissed her chastely and then tucked her hair behind her ear.

“So, you going to the panel tomorrow?”

Y/N nodded and gave a soft smile. “Of course.”

“Do you have plans tonight?”

Y/N felt like her heart might actually burst. She shook her head. “None that aren’t breakable.”

The next day at the panel, Y/N sat in the third row, feeling as though the whole world was brand new.

She could still hardly believe it, but the night before she and Jensen had gone out to dinner at a very nice restaurant, and the conversation between them had been remarkably easy and laced with laughter and fun. 

After dinner they’d gone for a long walk and talked some more before finding a quiet park bench and making out like teenagers. Jensen’s mouth had branded her skin as his alone, and she knew he owned her now, body and soul. She was pretty sure he felt the same way, or at least something like it. He’d been very open about how much he wanted her, vocal in his desire and need for her. 

It was the first time in her life that she’d felt truly, unequivocally beautiful and it opened up the world around her; colors seemed brighter and she knew that she was glowing.

Barely twenty-four hours after standing heartbroken and humiliated in Jensen’s arms, she sat in the audience, watching him on stage, feeling alive and truly happy in a way that was a little scary, but wholly exhilarating too.

The panel was wonderful; the boys were hilarious and warm as always. As the music started for the last question, Y/N expected Jensen to go off and sing with Rob as he usually did. But instead he looked right at her in the audience, standing up quickly and crooking his finger at her, beckoning her forward. 

Amanda, the woman who’d brought her to the hotel suite yesterday, was standing at the end of the row, and gestured for her to leave her seat and follow her to the stage. Y/N was shaking from head to toe as she followed her up the stairs to where Jared was waiting for her, escorting her over to Jensen who took her hand and led her back to the chair sitting in the middle of the stage, helping her hop up onto it. 

She looked out across the huge audience and panicked a little at the size of the crowd, until she made herself actually look at everyone’s faces. They were all smiling and beaming at her, and she thought of the boys’ oft repeated phrase: “You’re surrounded by family.” She suddenly felt a sense of belonging that was almost unprecedented in her life.

The music ended and the audience’s cheering fell away as Jared looked out at the crowd. “Everyone, say hello to Y/N! Y/N say hello to your SPN family!” There was more clapping and cheering as Y/N waved shyly. It occurred to her then, that she hadn’t told Jared her name, which meant Jensen must have told him about her. At least, enough that Jared agreed to break the usual routine of the last question going to one of the people standing in line. 

Y/N felt a little guilty that she was taking their place, but when she looked at the women standing at the microphones she could see them smiling and clapping along.

Jensen put his arm around her shoulders and she shivered. Raising the microphone, he shot her a mischievous smile before speaking.

“So, Y/N, how was your evening last night? You enjoying yourself?”

Y/N blushed beet red, and just nodded. Jared punched Jensen lightly and took pity on her. “Do you have a question for us?”

She wasn’t prepared at all, having never expected to be in this position, but she gave it a go as both boys lowered their microphone so she could speak into it.

She took a deep breath. “I wasn’t expecting to be up here, so I don’t…I don’t have a question ready, but I’d like to take a moment to say thank you.”

She looked out at the audience. “Some of you were in the photo op line with me when I experienced something really embarrassing. Every one of you were kind about it and supportive, and I greatly appreciate it.”

She looked at Jared. “You promote so much love and support in your AKF campaigns and with all of us fans, and I’m so grateful for that because you encourage us all to be better people.”

Jared put his hand on his heart and looked down at the ground, humbly accepting her gratitude. Then she looked at Jensen and her eyes welled up a little.

“Jensen, you made me feel truly safe and beautiful at a time when I would have sworn that was impossible, and whatever happens in my future, I’ll hold on to that feeling for the rest of my life and keep thanking you, always.”

Jensen leaned down, and for a wild moment she thought he might kiss her right on stage, but he just kissed her cheek and gave her a hug. But his voice was low and seductive in her ear.

“You’re more than welcome, sweetheart, and thank you for yesterday, and hopefully, for later tonight too?”

He pulled back slightly and Y/N blushed at the look of hunger in his eye, but she nodded her head quickly. “God yes.”

His smile was wide as he squeezed her hand and helped her hop down from the chair, waving as she left the stage with Jared and tossing her a wink that made her right knee wobble slightly, so that Jared had to steady her.

He chuckled as he helped her down the stairs and then gave her a bear hug at the bottom. He whispered in Y/N’s ear as the band played loudly and Jensen sang joyfully with Rob.

“So you’re the one my boy wouldn’t shut up about last night. I know him pretty well, so I feel completely confident that I’ll see you again soon.” He shot her a grin and squeezed her shoulders.

Y/N moved off to the side, not bothering to go back to her seat, just looking up at the stage and knowing in heart of hearts that this weekend had changed her whole life.

@lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33

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[anachronismstellar]

I'm still in a weird mood, but at least I'm writing lol

This was supposed to be a fun/cute cumplane fic, but my brain got taken over by @mysteryteacup post about Airplane being a good writer he just couldn't afford the time to write.

Hope you guys enjoy it!

-----------

"Do you think we would have met before?"

The question came a bit out of nowhere, disrupting the soft mood of the bamboo house. The weather was warm, rain hitting the roof in a soothing pattern, the open doors bringing in the green hues inside the living room along with a gentle breeze.

Shen Yuan closed his book, setting Airplane's latest story aside. The plot was not so terrible now that they had stepped down as peak lords. Retirement had a good look on him, made his shoulders relaxed and his posture elegant, as if he had finally made himself comfortable with his body, fear a mask long forgotten.

"What do you mean?" Shen Yuan didn't pick up his fan as once he would, his own insecurities whispers from the past. Instead, he just turned his face at Airplane, both watching as smoke curled up from Airplane's long pipe.

Outside, thunder rolled over them like the Gods were dragging clouds heavy as stones.

"Before," Airplane waved at the scenery in general, and it didn't need much for Shen Yuan to catch what he meant. "I mean, I didn't participate in any of the big conventions they invited me, but..."

Shen Yuan hummed, head tilted to the side, imagining how would he react if he ever met Airplane under other circumstances. It would have been disastrous for sure, both of them struggling with the different challenges of a world without flying swords and demons. Would they even be friends? Probably not. Shen Yuan had spent so much of his time stuck on his own head, going from doctor after doctor, too bitter to enjoy nice things, dedicating his whole life on hating a poorly written book. And from other conversations, he knew that Airplane had been bitter as well, sacrificing his words and his world in the name of the next meal, the next rent.

"I don't see how," he reached for his cup of tea, heating up his cold hands against the warm porcelain. "Like you said, you never went to the conventions. I didn't either, to be honest. Too many people."

Shang Qinghua nodded slowly as he filled his lungs with smoke, letting it go through his nose. Shen Yuan waited for a bit longer, curious to see where Airplane wanted to get with his question. He was almost picking up the story again when-

"I was just..." He started as he put his pipe down to comb his hair with his fingers, putting the strands behind his ears. Another big change from when they had passed their mantle to the next generation: Airplane had started to wear his hair down, Northern braids adorning the sides of his head, silver beads glittering among chocolate brown. "Is the book good?"

The sudden change of topic made Shen Yuan blink. However, it wasn't as if he weren't used to Airplane's mind jumping around, so he just took it in stride, nodding slowly.

"I enjoyed how you developed the main character relationship with his old master, although I still think you should stop killing mothers left and right."

Airplane couldn't help but chuckle, his smile making his eyes curve into half moons.

"Leave some tropes for me to work with, bro, there's so much this poor writer can come up with!"

Shen Yuan could only roll his eyes at the other, picking up the book once more, touching the pages without actually reading it, just enjoying the feeling of paper on his hands.

"Well, it is an improvement. And as always your beasts are impeccable, I'll give you that."

And he regretted immediately the compliment when Airplane dramatically clutched his robes, pretending to faint. The little shit.

"Oh! Oh praised be the Heavens! A compliment from the immovable Peerless Cucumber! Oh my heart! My heaaart-"

Shen Yuan did his best to hold back his frustration and just throw his fan at the writer. Good thing that Airplane calmed down again, chin up so he could stare at the top of the bamboo trees outside. Only then Shen Yuan realized that the entire time Airplane hadn't looked at him.

He felt an uncomfortable weight in his stomach, heart squeezing tight.

"Are you going to tell me what is this about?"

Airplane took a long drag of his pipe, bending his head back a bit further to blow little circles in the air. He should be thankful that Shen Yuan had worked on his patience in the past decades, or he would have been hit with a fan already.

"I was thinking of your first review for Proud Immortal Demon Way," he said as he tapped the pipe on a little vase Shen Yuan had offered him earlier to use as ashtray. "You were so mean... I couldn't write for like two days."

They had commented about their forum fights before, they have even apologized for some things they had said to each other back then, but Airplane had never-

The thought of hurting him so bad to the point of making him give up on writing was-

"Huang Hua..." He whispered as he took the writer's hand close to him, brushing his thumb over the callous on his forefinger.

"Don't look at me like that, bro... Don't mind me, I'm just-" he cut himself off with a sigh, squeezing Shen Yuan's hand back. "I've been in a weird mood that's all."

Shen Yuan understood, he understood a bit too well. For all they enjoyed the benefits of magic and cultivation, they weren't meant for this immortal world, Huang Hua and him, human beings who had always had a clock ticking over their heads. He would get stuck on his own head, too, sometimes; making Binghe walk around him with soft steps and prepare his favorite foods.

He loved his husband food more than anything blessed be Airplane for deciding to make the main protagonist a good cook.

But Binghe couldn't prepare him a burger the size of his head with golden french fries.

"Well, I think the new book is going great. And to answer your question, well-" Then it was Shen Yuan's turn to pause, trying to imagine how their meeting in the real world would go. Poorly, for sure, but also... Shen Yuan was old enough, wise enough to admit that if he knew Airplane's struggles, he would probably have helped. He had been so rash in his comments because he had seen the potential, the grandeur of Airplane's mind, while describing the fauna and flora of Proud Immortal Demon Way.

"I don't know, I think if we had met, we wouldn't become friends," he admitted with a shrug, keeping his face towards the forest, feeling his cheeks burning. "I was... I was going through a lot and you had your own problems too. But depending on the day I might would have asked for an autograph." And what an embarrassing thing to admit. And while holding Airplane's hand nonetheless! Muscle memory made him take his fan and snap it open, the sound muffling Airplane's giggles.

"Well, I can't autograph your Binghe body pillow-"

"Shut up it was a collectable item!"

"- but I can autograph this copy if you want." and then he tapped the book on the table with his pipe, Shen Yuan's eyes going wide as plates.

"What?"

"I had to change a lot of things... Mostly the names and places, but-" Airplane nervously played with his hair, stealing glances at Shen Yuan's direction. "I thought, now that everything is kinda over, why not write it properly, right? Besides, the entire Proud Immortal Demon Way had never had a beta reader, although I thought about asking you sometimes way back but uh-"

"I've could have been your beta reader?!"

"Well, yes, in a way you kinda were- wait. Haven't you noticed?" Airplane let go of his hair to turn his entire body to Shen Yuan, surprise written all over his face. "Bro, you're the only person I answered more than once on the forums. Most of the time I couldn't take your ideas and use them, that would be insane and asking for a lawsuit, but when you gave me writing advice? Or when I needed to remember which wife was which or who had died? I used your comments to remember what had been happening in the last chapters."

Shen Yuan's hands got tingling all over, his face heating up to the point of boiling. He had always thought Airplane had despised him, and it was with reason. He knew he had been a hater, to the point of Airplane remembering his name after years, but he had never known that Airplane actually had paid attention, he had actually-

Wait, rewind, write what properly-

"Hold on, you're telling me that-" he picked the book again, scanning the first page and then the second, recognition downing upon him. It had felt familiar when he read it for the first time, but he had thought it was just him being used to Airplane's stories. But this...

"Proud Demon Immortal Way could have been this good?" He gasped as he turned to stare at the author, shaking the book on his hand. To which Airplane had the audacity to shrug, light pink dusting his cheeks.

"Told you many times, Bro. No time to edits, had to pay the bills."

"Airplane, how many drafts you wrote before posting that monstrosity?"

"Uh." He turned his face away again, scratching the back of his neck, then his cheek. "I mean I didn't have a draft. I wrote it down in one sitting most of the time-"

Shen Yuan was going to pass out. No wonder the story made no sense most of the times! And he still was able to follow some type of plot?!

During their lifes as cultivators, Shen Yuan faced many situations in which Airplane had his turn to shine. He might not be aware of it, oblivious writer that he was, but he could be insanely smart and think fast enough to avoid wars between tribes that any other person would fumble and make it worse. So he knew how intelligent and smart Airplane was, although he wouldn't straight up compliment him like that.

But this... Six thousand six hundred and sixty-six chapters with no draft or beta reader? This... Was insane.

"You better honor Shen Qingqiu's past this time," he heard himself say, mouth moving before his brain could catch up. And funny enough, he had mean it. "You better give him closure so I can at least glare at Yue Qingyuan without feeling guilty."

This time Airplane threw his head back and laughed, hand over his belly, the other tapping the table. Then he turned to look at Shen Yuan with his sly fox smile, forefinger moving side to side.

"Nonono, I'm sorry, bro. I'm not writing to make the readers happy this time," he said with a sharp nod, tapping his fingers against his temple. "There's a story to be told, and I'm not gonna mess up a second time."

And Shen Yuan felt as if he should be angry, he should shake Airplane by his shoulders and scream, but at the same time... He felt like Airplane had passed his test, one he wasn't aware he had set for the other.

He huffed, sliding the book over the table until it was closer to the author, opening the first page.

"You better think of a hell of dedicatory then," he said as he got up to pick writing materials, warmth spreading through his chest to the sound of Airplane's laughter.

--------

Shen Yuan is going to find out some things about Binghe and Mobei in the book lol

Again, thank you for giving it a read!

See you next time~