#i hope if u change it one of the highlighted gets picked

[d33pwithinmys0ul]

୨★✧.*party 4 u ✧★.*୧

Jean Kirstein x Reader, one shot

★ recreational drug use, angst, fluff, post break up, kissing, ex boyfriend, insecurity and anxiety, no smut

Ik the song is trending but when I tell you it's been a fave with me forever.. this WIP has sat with me for a while, and I changed my mind with a lot of it but hopefully u all still like it! (If I had a nickel for every Jean fic I wrote inspired by a charlixcx song, lol) Who said you can't make corny songfic in 2025??

┈➤here's the ao3 link or read under the cut :)

Jean thought you were the most beautiful he’d ever seen. 

Silver confetti fluttered around you, the echoes of the crowd and thudding bass were overwhelming. You felt weightless and free as you danced in the darkness. The strobe lights made you see spots, highlighting the smoke that spun into the air, and for the briefest moment, everything was fine.

You couldn’t believe you almost didn’t come. 

Hitch barely managed to persuade you to skip your 8 am tomorrow, just so you could all get fucked up tonight. 

You took an Uber so none of the group would have to drive from the pregame near campus to Jean Kirschtein’s obnoxiously large house in the country.

You and Jean had a complicated history—Hitch and Annie didn’t know, because you hated the drama of it all. 

All your freshman year at Paradis State, you were inseparable in puppy love, and so unprepared for the consequences of it. You weren’t the best at expressing your feelings and boundaries, and Jean was eager to please you. It should have worked better, and you tried not to linger on that fact. He was breathtakingly handsome and had lots of friends, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise that you eventually just stopped seeing each other. 

Well, you stopped seeing him. 

You practically ghosted Jean when you found out about his weird feelings about Mikasa. You couldn’t unsee his crush whenever he was around her, and it killed you. You weren’t even angry with her for it, since Mikasa was happily infatuated with Eren, though you wished you could tell her plainly that you harbored nothing against her for it. 

You were young and emotional, and let your hurt get the better of you. It didn’t make any sense, and you didn’t even give Jean a chance to explain himself, ever. 

The aftermath was awkward considering how many mutual friends you had, so you just avoided him entirely. You started going to clubs in the next town over instead of bars and parties around campus, and you were content with the new friends you made in Annie and Hitch, despite their connections looping back to the same place. 

You supposed for as long as you lived in Trost, everyone you knew would lead you back to Jean. He was a good guy. You kind of freaked out, and got too embarrassed and proud to go back to him and apologize. 

“C’mon man, are you gonna try to enjoy yourself?” Connie gave him a light punch on the shoulder. 

“I am,” Jean said, irritated, and glanced outside again. “Are you sure she’s coming?”

He had spent the first hour of the evening hovering by the windows. They were tall and wide, so he would have seen you perfectly from the other end of the room, but as soon as he heard that you were coming, he was a wreck. 

He insisted on picking out the decorations instead of letting Sasha take the lead, like she usually did. He couldn’t help himself from the excitement that blossomed in his chest at the idea of seeing you, really seeing you. 

As the others around him began pregaming, Jean really drank. 

He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but he couldn’t help it. His heart raced all evening, resounding all his longing, begging, willing you through that door. Come to my party. Come to my party.

Jean felt like he was always catching glimpses of you, and no matter how hard he tried to move on, the way you seemed to, there was always a remaining trace of bitterness. You were barely there, yet not close enough for him to properly ignore the way you made him feel.

It was years ago, and should mean nothing. It meant nothing. 

“Look man,” Connie put his hand on Jean’s shoulder, his breath fanning the scent of beer over to his friend. “Just relax! Either y’talk to her, or you don’t. I don’t think you should waste your night being emo about it. Make a decision. Do something instead of moping around.”

Jean shoved his hand away, a little harsher than he intended to. He couldn’t gauge his own strength—or temper–when he got drunk like this. 

“Yeah, I know.”

By the time you arrived at the sizable mansion, up a long winding driveway lined with trees, you were so high, you didn’t give Jean a second thought. 

You walked in with the girls, immediately enamored with the superfluous decorations, the colorful, ambient lighting, and the blasting music. Balloons hung from the ceiling and littered the floor, and it seemed like over a hundred people were crammed into every crevice of the house. 

“What the hell is this party for again?” You yelled to Hitch, despite her face only being a few inches from yours. Her eyes were hazy and distant, as she’d shared some molly with you earlier, the dose she took was far more. 

“Uhh, I think Jean said he just needed a pick me up for the new semester,” she shouted back and slipped her sunglasses over her eyes. “I think it’s pretty.”

“I’m getting jungle juice,” Annie said boredly. She’d taken more shots than any of you, and remained composed like it was nothing. “Come with?” 

Hitch nodded. 

“Y/n? You rolling?” 

“Not yet. I’ll catch up with you in a bit,” you shook your head and gave them an encouraging smile.

“Fine, but if I leave here alone, I’m killing you both,” she stuck her tongue out at you playfully, and gripped Annie’s arm as they went off. 

You smiled and decided to occupy yourself by weaving through the crowd, people watching. 

There were people taking shots, legs in tall boots and short skirts, groups smoking cigs and rolling up by the staircase. A throng of people surrounded the DJ on the raised platform by the living room. 

Your senses were pleasantly heightened, you felt warm and light. The mixture of drugs kept you at ease, though a part of you ached, and seemed to search for a certain familiar face.

You pushed away the thought and made your way across the floor. 

You saw Historia posing as her girlfriend took photos of her, the flash briefly blinding you as you stumbled past. You waved at Connie and Sasha, the former shotgunning a beer as his friend timed him. It was always nice seeing them. 

“Hey Y/n!”

You turned to find a buzzed, cheerful Marco, with a solo cup in hand, and he leaned in for a hug. 

“Hey!” You said, surprised, and squeezed him tight. 

You liked Marco a lot, and despite being Jean’s best friend, he was one of the kindest people to you throughout the past few years.

“I’m great, did you just get here?” He asked. 

“Yeah. Looks like you guys went all out,” you grinned and gestured at the crowded room. If it wasn’t silver or gold, it was sparkling or glowing. 

“It was all Jean’s idea,” Marco rubbed the back of his neck, stumbling over his words. “I dunno. He’s uh– excited. Probably on a second bottle by now.” 

“Oh,” your eyebrows betrayed your concern. “Um, is he alright?”

“It doesn’t seem fair to… sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything,” Marco was pink from the alcohol, and seemed to turn a little redder. “You should enjoy yourself!”

“Well, where is he?” Were you beyond being subtle about this?

The temptation was killing you. Was Marco trying to say that Jean wanted to talk to you? Why else would he suggest it?

“Um, outside, I think,” he gave you an apologetic smile. “Really, he’ll be okay. You should enjoy your night. He sent me away to enjoy mine.”

You swallowed and watched him disappear into the crowd. 

You were fucking out of it. Maybe any mistakes you made tonight could be reasonably excused. Besides, you were friends with Jean long before you fucked things up. 

You made your way through the sea of people and to the back door, an angelic synth swimming in your ears. 

You stepped outside, and shivered from the biting February breeze. 

The pool shone blue in the night, casting a glow that shimmered and shook with the water. It was quieter in the backyard, the thudding music and chatter was muffled and seemed worlds away. 

You braced yourself to see Jean around the corner, or on a chair, but you were completely alone. 

Your head was pounding from the powerful speakers. You took a deep, shuddering breath, allowing yourself to feel. Maybe you shouldn’t have gotten so fucked up, knowing that Jean would be here. You kind of walked into this. Yet, you think you might’ve felt the same sober. That was sadder. At least with this, you could blame it on the drugs. 

Fuck. You couldn’t let yourself spiral and lose it. You felt like shit ruining girl’s nights like this, even if Hitch and Annie were preoccupied elsewhere. 

You sank to your knees by the pool, and took off your heels. You dipped your feet in the water, grateful for the cold, tranquil distraction. You closed your eyes, and took deep breaths. With the muffled crowd and the occasional car passing in the street, the moment felt a little more real. 

Jean was always good at helping you calm down. When you managed to convey the times you were overwhelmed, he was a saint, rubbing your back and keeping you hydrated when you got too high or anxious. 

Tears leaked down your face before you could stop them. You didn’t want to ruin your makeup, after using so much glitter, but your cheeks were wet and your vision blurred. You hadn’t thought about this, or him, in years. 

Did you overreact? You let your jealousy get to the better of you. God, you sucked. Maybe you should have stayed home. Maybe it’s just been too long, or you were high, and lonely, but the idea of Jean holding you close now made your heart ache. 

You heard the back door slide open, spilling more heavenly electronic music into the air until it shut again. 

“Hey.” A familiar voice called your name, nearly cracking. 

“Hey,” you said, hastily wiping your face, staring straight ahead at the water. “Are you alright?”

“I think I should be asking you,” Jean slurred and sat down on the pavement. He had a bottle in his hand, and wore a button down with the sleeves rolled up, his hair tousled and sticking slightly to his forehead from sweat. His legs were crossed, and he leaned down while he spoke, his posture ruined in favor of staying at your eye level. “I di–um..” He cleared his throat. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

“Seemed like fun,” you laughed, despite the salty taste in your mouth. “It’s all beautiful, Jean. You always throw one hell of a party.”

His eyes were pained, and it sent a stabbing sensation to your chest. 

“Thanks.” He seemed very tempted to say more, but instead took a swig and passed you the bottle. 

“No I’m good, I’m rolling,” you pushed it back to him. 

“Oh,” he said, surprised. “Any.. particular occasion?”

You shrugged. 

“Hitch offered.” You tried not to read too much into his question. You rolled very rarely—partying was always magnified by a little molly every now and then. You likely flattered yourself too much as you wondered if he was thinking you came out tonight to fuck someone, with its reputation as a sex drug. 

“Sounds fun,” he said, jaw tight. “So… why are you out here?”

“Marco kind of sent me,” you laughed. “Obviously, I was too late. Thought you’d be somewhere else by now, and the pool’s nice.”

“Well, here I am,” he said bitterly. He swept a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his eyes and ruining the near-perfect coif. You liked it better that way, messy and long, you didn’t think the perfectly combed look really fit him. 

“How–how are you?” You said lightly. His lashes framed his sad eyes, brushing his cheek with every blink. 

“Second semester always sucks,” he shrugged and took another swig. “Thought something extravagant would lighten everyone’s spirits.”

“Yeah,” you exhaled and laughed nervously. You were chewing your lip as you kicked your leg gently against the water, watching the small droplets flick away from you.  “I think it was a great idea. And it’s stunning– inside, by the way. It’s gorgeous.”

There was a trace of a smile on his lips from your compliment. He couldn’t make himself say that it was really all for you. 

Your features were glowing from the light refracting off of the pool, your short dress rode up your thighs, and Jean couldn’t help but stare. He wondered if you sensed it too, the tension—not from the awful history, or the unsaid professions, but the near tangible desire.  

“I’m glad you made it,” he said softly. “It’s really nice to see you.”

“Of course,” you said quickly. You averted your eyes, your hands in your lap. 

The drugs were heightening all your emotions, and all your senses—the tinge of chlorine in the air, mixing with Jean’s familiar scent, the faint thudding of music from inside the house, the cool water against your skin. 

“Um,” your breath was shaky, your hands clenched into fists. “I’m sorry, by the way. A-about freshman year.” You nearly choked on the words as they bubbled out of you. “It’s—I was really dumb and jealous. You’re a great guy, Jean. You’re an amazing, sweet, romantic son of a bitch. You deserve the world.”

You tried not to stare, but it wasn’t like he was returning the favor. You were both shamelessly memorizing each other's features, a mingling of fear, apprehension, and desperation. You felt so wretched, to pretend like he was someone you never loved. 

“Do you wanna dance?” Jean said pathetically. It was all he could manage, despite everything he wanted to say. 

You blushed and tried not to smile too hard. That was more than enough for you. 

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

You ignored the tossing in your stomach as Jean held the door open, leaking sound and smoke into the air before sliding it shut. 

It was a small, guilty pleasure, feeling him guide you through the mass of people, dancing, thrashing bodies and balloons. 

You found a small opening, nearly thrown together from the crowd. 

You spent the night with your arms at Jean’s shoulders, and his hands at your waist. The strobe lights nearly blinded you, but you couldn’t look away from him. The adoration in his eyes, the curve of his lips. Maybe he was thinking the same thing, that you were both ridiculous, cowardly idiots. Maybe you were just delusional. 

You couldn’t stop yourself when you leaned into him, taking in his scent, yearning to feel his heartbeat, as if you were the only people in the room. It was like time stopped and everyone else faded away when he closed the space between you, his lips warm and rough and they met yours, finally reuniting after all the heartache. 

Jean tasted like home. His hands roamed your body, through your hair, and you clung to him, kissing him and forsaking your breath. It all felt so good, so right.

“Oh my god,” Jean groaned, thrilled by the taste of you, the way you felt against him and in his hands. He tried to be gentler, but he was too excited by your shallow breaths, your impossibly soft skin, your moans urging him to be more and more indecent. 

You nearly stumbled, getting shoulder checked from a nearby dancer, and your tall heels failing you. Jean’s grip at your waist was firm, and he led you to the corner and pinned you against the wall. He kissed you until you gasped for air.

“Uh, should we do something?” Sasha nudged Connie with her elbow as she spotted you both from a distance, making out passionately, for all to see. 

“Are you kidding?” Connie snorted. “They need that shit. I’ll find them an empty closet myself.”

[satoruhour]

Thoughts on poly with satosugu

a/n: long post LOL enjoy

howd you manage to get two of the most caring yet annoying boyfriends ever??? they feed off each others energy sm it’s insane lol good luck. but not in a bad way of course. it def started out when one man of the two was frustrated with the stagnancy and the mixed signals between the three of you that gojo decided to confess and the both of you dated for a while.

geto didnt rlly wanna intrude and felt bad even tho you three were still eye fucking basically every time u were in a room together. gojo was the first to ask you about it “no because ive thought of it too” and gojo’s face lights up bc teecchnically hes been texting geto always how its been a dream to date you even tho it rubs in the wound a little. but it’s ok!!!! im sorry suguru!!! all three of you are together now !!!! 

to start off they are very physical and clingy. always need to have some part of their body on you. gojo prefers the arm slinging over your shoulders, geto prefers a more subtle arm around the waist. ppl r always starin when you three go out 😭 but it’s so cute lowkey! gojo is usually the upbeat one, suggesting dates and places to go and things to do, creating the gc between the three of you (if u didnt alr have one), keeping the relationship fresh with a lot of questions. geto contributes more to the practicality of the rs?? not to say he doesnt talk or is passive in the poly rs but he’s more of a getting groceries, lounging in the back watching the two of you talk excitedly bout digimon, and likes the household chores kind of guy.

it feels like if i say this it’s too cheesy but gojo feels like a sunrise: the dawn of a new day and the adventures that it may bring while geto is like sunsets: the dusk of winding down after the exciting day and youre always craving both. gojo and geto complete each other in countless other ways too and the dynamic you three have is super adorable.

ill highlight a few scenarios bc theres too much potential and power w/ poly stsg!! watching movies: geto us usually okay with anything u two pick out and gojo picks out some psychological horror for funsies but hes screaming into geto’s arms at every jumpscare 😭 the popcorn goes everywhere good lord. you and geto laugh (in the case youre not too afraid of horror) laugh at gojo and pepper him in kisses even when he puts the blame on you for choosing this movie. “too scared that youre placing the blame on our poor (y/n)?” gojo tsks and swats away geto’s hand but is soon distracted by you pulling u into your embrace lol <3 the usual movie positions are like this: either the both of you latch onto geto’s sides, or youre tucked into geto and gojo sits on the floor, your head in either man’s laps and your feet on the other, you squashed in the middle of them both, gojo tucked in your hug while you are tucked in geto’s <333

going grocery shopping: it’s stocking up time and geto cant possibly handle bringing back all the groceries by himself so he brings you along and also (reluctantly) brings gojo. main reason is bc gojo likes to put a lot of things in the cart and begs with his pretty eyes of his that geto always gives in 😭 youre like semi-focused on the task. you put together the grocery list but then youre getting distracted when you see the fruits section and point at it excitedly to geto. gojo is somewhere in the store. sometimes you lead the expedition, pushing the trolley as geto and gojo walk together a few steps behind hand in hand. it changes a whole lot.

sometimes geto will head off to get something and youre left to push the trolley, with gojo by your side kissing your temples walking by your side. they will both sometimes play pranks on you and go off without telling u and run around the store hoping you wont find them LMAO, or even be so so embarrassing dancing in the middle of the aisles or putting their face up to the cameras that broadcast the footage on big tvs ….. also once you guys lost gojo and you had to make an announcement at the counter to call for a six foot man to meet you two at the cashiers….

it’s easy to feel insecure sometimes, or rather not getting enough love / feeling left out bc sometimes they both click so well together you cant understand their inside jokes or they act like boys again, hitting and laughing to each other about shoko fumbling utahime again or something. they apologise profusely, feeling guilty that they even made u feel like that, esp gojo since he has a tendency to initiate a lot of those jokes which you dont understand, or talk about man things lol. youre the sole focus of their eyes always and they show it even more today by pampering you, having a sleepover ish date night, you paint each other’s nails and do some skin care, gossip a little. geto and gojo compliments you a lot, even more so during this bout of insecurity. they fight over who gives better compliments 😭😭😭😭

but either way you bring both of them in to kiss them as a thank you. it’s so difficult to choose between the both of them for cuddling too bc theyre so warm always. you curl into geto first bc on this night you guys picked your fav movie (which also happened to be gojo’s fav) but you were feeling tired asf so the former let you rest up on him while hte latter had his eyes glued. and later when geto needs to clean up he passes you to gojo gently and you adjust yourself against his lanky body <3333 “she’s just so cute, ain’t she?” geto smiles, brushes your hair out ur face, placing a peck on your forehead and another on gojo’s lips. “rest up first, both of you. i’ll come in soon.”

overall best boyfriends ever; let me highlight some more scenarios which i think would happen: coddling over you when you get your period. geto holding your tummy and massaging it while gojo feeds u snacks. fighting over the blanket between the three of you. gojo runs cold at night, geto runs a little cold too so youre usually the mediator between the two of them. “just buy a bigger blanket!!!” and gojos up and ready to head out at 3am. “go to sleep satoru the stores not open rn.” “theft exists.” “no!” sometimes youd go on individual dates when the other cant make it, esp when you three have busy schedules. either two will ALWAYS promise to shower the third in affection once they return home from the date! sometimes when you three need to visit weddings, you’d be squashed in the middle dancing with them, two towers and the shorter one in between that it looks a little comical.

fighting about whose music is the best in the car and fighting over the au, fighting abt who gets to drive. gojo tries to squeeze into the stick shift bc sometimes he misses you two in the back seat :(((( they let you sit down on public transport if the car isnt possible. scary dog privileges, two of them. gojo sneers at anyone who wants ur number and tells them off, geto glares quietly, gojo thinks its bc of him but actually it’s all geto’s doing LMAOAOAO. loving the kisses they both give you: gojo a little more excitable and geto’s sensual and slower, will also fight over who you should straddle when your making out but u give them both equal attention. one will take over the other whos preoccupied with your lips. geto littering kisses down your neck while youre busy with gojo’s lips and vice versa 💟💟💟

sigh id love to be in a poly rs with them and id love to write n*sfw but my hands hurt toodles (i do have a stsg ask that is smutty tho ... will write that soon muahahha)

hello hello!

[thegirlingold]

Hiii can u make a post on study tips and and just like having a healthy relationship with school/ studying?? Thanks !! X

Hii! sure, hope this helps <3

The Golden Guide to... having a better relationship with school!

Shift your mindset

Replace "I have to" with "I get to"

There are so many kids in the world who don't have the opportunity to go to school or even the resources to study in general; it is something that we are privileged to have access to. We are so lucky that we get to go to school, it isn't a burden, its a blessing.

Instead of "Ugh I have have to go to school", think "Yay, get to go to school!"

Instead of "I have to study" think "I get to study"

This uses a phycological concept called "intrinsic VS extrinsic motivation", which explains how people are more inclined to do things that they think is a privilege to do rather than an obligation.So if you start thinking going to school and getting to study is a privilege, you would have a better relationship with it and feel more motivated at the same time!

Set realistic goals

Aim for progress, not perfection

Lets say you got 70% on your math test and you want to bump up your grades. Instead of setting a goal of scoring 95%, aim to get anywhere between 75 and 80%

This is much more realistic and achievable If you aimed for a 95%, it would be highly unlikely for you to achieve in a short period of time + if you didn't reach it, you would have felt bad and your self confidence could lower. You may end up convincing yourself that you are simply bad at school, when in reality, the goal just wasn't achievable. On the other hand, if you aimed for 75-80%, the chance of you scoring that would be very high + seeing that grade on that paper would make you feel like you can do better and your confidence in that subject and your abilities would increase.

Stay organised, but not overwhelmed

Keep yourself on track, but don't overwhelm yourself with to many things

Prioritise tasks

If you have 3 tasks, one which you know you'll spend a lot of time doing + two which would take a short amount of time to complete, do the small tasks first.

This makes sure that you wont get too carried away doing the big task, leaving you with a short and stress inducing amount of time left to do the short ones.If you first do the small tasks, it wont take you too long, leaving you with a good amount of time & an easy time limit to complete the bigger project!

Use a calendar

Use a calendar to mark the start and due dates of your assignments & the dates of any exams or events

Study Techniques

Use past papers

Just search up "*subject* *topic* *grade/year level* *curriculum* past papers"

e.g. Biology human body IGCSE past papers

2. Pomodoro technique

Study for 25 mins, then take a 5 min break (you can change how long you want to study for and how long you want the breaks to be)

There are pomodoro timers online

3. Active recall

This is good for memorising

Instead of only reading your notes, actively test yourself by recalling information from memory

4. Blurting method

Write down everything you remember, then check your notes and see what you've missed.

5. Feynman technique

Teach the topic as if you were explaining it to a five year old.

6. Spaced repetition

Review your information at increasing intervals

E.g. Review your information on day 1, then day 3, then day 7, etc

my tips!

Make note taking fun by using different colours/types of pens

I like using a cute highlighter/marker, a coloured pen and a black pen (but I use a pencil too for math)

Play around with the formatting, until you find one that works best for you - you can do this in class when your taking notes on different topics & pick which one you like best! Don't stress on aesthetics, just go with the flow and do what feels right

This makes note taking much more fun & aesthetically pleasing so your also more inclined to read them

2. Use post its or a small note book to write down your homework

When your teacher is giving you your homework in class, write it down so that you don't forget and check on it when you come back home so you know what work you get to do!

3. Use save my exams to revise and study for your assessments

It's extremely helpful as it has videos, notes and exam questions

It's free (but if you don't have premium, you don't exam questions and you can only read up to 5 notes a week)

It is based on your grade/year level and curriculum

Premium is very affordable - like $5 a month

I hope this helps yall!

xoxo,

The Girl In Gold

[tkaulitzlvr]

could you pretty please write one with tom where him and reader go shopping together and she’s trying some things on in the change room, she asks for tom’s help unzipping something maybe and then they go at it in the change room? 🤭

RISKY - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: you have trouble taking off a dress that you have tried on whilst shopping with tom. you ask for his help, leading to the two of you doing something risky in the changing room - tom reminding you of your surroundings, using them to tease you even more.

content: smut

a/n: thank u sm for the req! someone else requested more or less the same thing so instead of writing two separate fics i just put the two together, hope that’s okay!! something a little shorter than usual, not as motivated as i would like to be rn, so apologies if this is a little sloppily written :/

my fingers clutch at the zipper for the third time, body bending in an awkward position to better my vision of it, yanking on the metal, groaning in frustration when, once again, it doesn’t budge. the dress is beautiful, the second i put it on i had fallen in love, admiring the way it shapes my figure, sucking me in at my stomach, highlighting my curves as a result. but, when i try to take it off, as i had been for the past five minutes, the zipper seems glued in place, not moving no matter how much force i apply.

i curse under my breath, knowing that there is no way i am getting this dress off - not alone anyways. tom had been waiting outside the small changing room for at least twenty minutes now, not checking in on me as he has gotten used to how long i take when trying things on, situating himself on the small couch outside, getting comfy and knowing he will be waiting a while.

i try once more, wiggling the zipper to try and pull it downwards at a different angle, careful not to tear the delicate stitching, yet it doesn’t move, a frustrated sigh leaving my lips. tom’s feet tap against the floor quickly, the sound echoing quietly through the room, reminding me that he is probably my only chance of getting this dress off, wanting to get out of it as soon as possible.

“tom?” i call out, pursing my lips as i wait for his response from the other side of the curtain. silence follows my words, my hands staying on the zipper, yanking helplessly at it, with no success.

“yeah?” he says, the rhythmic tapping of his shoes against the floor coming to a sudden stop.

“can you help me?” i ask, my voice tired as i sigh out, completely defeated.

he says nothing, yet i hear his body stand from the couch, his slow steps trudging towards the curtain, his hand reaching to touch the fabric as he pulls it open slightly, furrowing his eyebrows once he sees my state - hands awkwardly bending to touch the zipper, my face curved into a frown.

“you okay?” he asks, a smirk tugging on his lips as he stifles a laugh, slipping into the changing room and closing the curtain behind him.

“it’s not funny! can you just unzip this for me? it’s stuck.” i sigh, turning around so that my back is facing him.

his hand places itself onto my back, palm flat against my back, slightly cold. his other slowly reaches for the hair draped across my shoulders, gently collecting it, picking it up and handing it to me as i hold it in place, giving him easier access. he plants a small kiss against my back before his fingers touch the zipper, tugging it downwards effortlessly, making me wonder how i had struggled so much, tom making it look easy.

but, much to my surprise, he doesn’t stop there. he continues to drag the zipper downwards at an agonisingly slow pace, stopping once it is fully undone. i open my mouth to thank him, but soon snap it closed when i feel his hands move to slowly pull the thin straps from my shoulders, my breath hitching in my throat. his breath fans onto the back of my neck as i feel his face near me, goosebumps forming over the skin.

his hands continuing to work on the dress, the material peeling from my shoulder blades as the small of my back is left bare. his lips ghost against the skin, beginning to slowly suck on it, teeth digging in ever so slightly, my eyes fluttering closed.

“tom what are you-”

“shhhhh.” he whispers, pulling the dress from my upper half as the material pools at my waist, his hands running up and down my sides slowly, face now buried into my neck, leaning forward as his eyes hover over my shoulder, nose nudging against the front of it. “you think you can be quiet for me baby?”

he doesn’t wait for a response, instead moving his hands upwards to cup my breasts, a breathy moan leaving my lips, no longer bothered about our surroundings, completely flustered at his actions, silently praying that he will go further.

“ah ah ah.” he taunts, moving his hands away to rest loosely either side of me, watching the way my face falls in disappointment. “you have to stay quiet, you wouldn’t want anyone to hear us, would you schatz?”

i shake my head furiously, desperate for him to resume his motions, willing to try just about anything to stay quiet. a low chuckle leaves his lips at my hopelessness, lips curving into a small smirk once my hands reach to rest above his, attempting to bring them back to my breasts, becoming more needy then ever. he puts me out of my misery, though the look of satisfaction on his face says that my despair is entertaining to him, enjoying the way i wither helplessly in front of him, already begging for his touch despite his minimal actions.

his fingers toy with my nipples, lips brushing against the crook of my neck, gently making contact with the soft skin, placing small kisses there, my head tilting to the side to give him more access, teeth sinking into my lips to prevent any sounds from escaping. my head rests against his shoulders, eyes half-lidded as i watch his hands work against me through the large mirror in front of us. the kisses that he leaves on my neck soon turn into his lips sucking at the skin, his tongue running over the marks he leaves soon after, soothing the slight pain that his movements leave.

whilst his mouth works against my shoulder, trailing to the sensitive spot below my ear, his hands trail to his jeans slowly, fingers undoing the buckle of his belt, pulling it through the loops slowly, discarding it somewhere on the floor. swiftly undoing the button of his oversized jeans, tugging the zipper down quickly, the denim pooling at his feet, a small whine leaves my lips once his teeth graze against the sensitive spot on my neck.

“what did i say, hm? one more sound and i won’t touch you at all, you really want that to happen?” he taunts, planting open mouthed kisses over the same spot, his gaze moving upwards to make eye contact with me through the mirror, enjoying the way i attempt to shake my head, pursing my lips together, struggling to hold back the sounds desperate to be let out. after i mutter a small ‘no’, he nods his head, seemingly satisfied with my response.

his hand slips under the dress, travelling slowly across my abdomen, fingers dipping into my panties slowly, my breathing hitching. his eyes never leave the mirror, looking intently into my own, observing the way my teeth sink into my bottom lip, holding back any noise. he hums lowly, his pointer finger running through my folds, his tongue moving to play with his lip piercing, lips curving upwards once he realises how wet i am.

“so fucking needy, aren’t you? look at you, begging to be fucked, right here. anyone could walk in, but that doesn’t bother you, does it? you just want me to touch you…”

he pauses, hesitating a little, judging the way my eyes search his through the mirror, wondering how he will finish his sentence. though he decides that actions speak louder than words, his finger harshly coming to my clit, rubbing slow circles over it.

“like this, right?” he teases, speeding up his movements, my eyes squeezing shut, head falling backwards to rest against his shoulder once again. resting in the back of my throat, a moan becomes increasingly close to spilling from my lips, my hand reaching upwards desperately, pulling his face roughly to mine, attaching my lips to his as i moan into his mouth, the sound low and muffled.

he chuckles into it, relishing my vulnerability, enjoying the effect that he has on me, making it more and more difficult for me to stay quiet as he speeds up his motions, my lips pressing harder against his own, the kiss messy and heated, holding back the inaudible sounds dangerously close to sounding out. i whine quietly against tom, lips stuttering as i am no longer able to kiss back, my face inches away from his.

his free hand moves downwards, impatiently tugging his boxers down, letting them fall to his feet, not bothering to take them off completely. wearing a dress works to my advantage right now, tom pulling away as his chin rests on my shoulder, studying my facial expression, reaching between my legs and underneath the dress. he moves my panties to the side, positioning his tip at my entrance.

“you gonna stay quiet yeah?” he asks, lips pressing against my shoulder.

i nod my head vigorously, tom watching my face as he moves his hips, slowly sliding into me, my hand flies to my mouth, pressing firmly against it to muffle the sounds that i cannot prevent from spilling from my lips, eyes rolling backwards as he slowly stretches me out, his gaze fixated on my face. his mouth falls open, slow and heavy breaths escaping from it, his hands remaining steadily on my hips as he bottoms out.

“shhh, that’s it, taking me so well. keep that pretty mouth closed, mhm?” he praises, moving backwards, almost pulling out fully, before snapping his hips forwards without warning, my entire body jolting upwards shock as he bottoms out.

he builds a fast pace, thrusting upwards into me from behind, his tip brushing against my sensitive spot as i squeeze my eyes shut, head falling backward once again.

“no no no…” he starts, hand coming upwards to tug on my hair, my eyes quickly jolting open as he circles his hips, creating a whole new angle. “look at yourself in that mirror. watch yourself as i fuck you.”

i can do nothing but comply with his words, watching the way my mouth falls open, tom’s dick thrusting in and out of me. my makeup is ruined, mascara falling down my cheeks in long, black lines, lipstick smudged from the way my lips had messily collided with his own. my eyes fall to study tom’s face - his eyebrows knitted together, teeth sinking into his lips as he struggles to stay silent himself, restrained whines leaving his lips with each sharp movement. sweat lines along his forehead, chest heaving up and down, muscles contracting as he squeezes my hips harshly, applying more and more pressure, steadying his hold on me whilst his dick continues to relentlessly disappear inside of me.

my face falls forward, no longer able to hold myself upright, feeling my climax building up, the urge to let out a soft moan stronger than ever. my walls clench instinctively around his cock, this sudden pressure unexpected to him.

“fuck!” he grunts, biting down harshly on my shoulder to prevent any more noise from leaving his lips. i repeat the motion, his teeth sinking further into my skin as i do so, the pain somehow fuelling the pleasure of his dick moving inside of me, bringing me closer and closer to my release.

his thrusts begin to falter, hips stuttering against me as his head falls backwards, mouth opening in a silent scream, ropes of his thick cum shooting inside of me.

“so close.” i mutter out, my voice only just above a whisper, throat dry and hoarse from my need to restrain it so much, desperate to show tom how good he is making me feel.

“touch yourself baby. c’mon, want you to cum all over my cock.” he encourages, speeding up his thrusts once again, still holding back a little, staring at me through the mirror, nodding his head slowly once my hand moves downwards, fingers playing with my clit as my legs buckle.

“there you go, just like that. feels good, doesn’t it?” he taunts, chuckling at the weak nods i send his way in response, unable to utter coherent sentences, the knot in my stomach coming undone.

my eyebrows knit together, eyes rolling to the back of my head, tom’s hand coming to cover my mouth.

“let out those pretty sounds schatz, it’s okay. c’mon, show me how good i make you feel.” i sigh in relief, letting out a high pitched moan, the sound muffled within his hand as his hips rock back and forth slowly, riding out my high.

he pulls out slowly, grunting quietly as he reaches for his boxers and jeans, hoisting them upwards, his breathing fast and heavy. i slip the dress off of my body, placing it back on the hanger, quickly putting my own clothes back on. tom turns to face me, slowly backing me up against the wall as his lips meet mine, a cocky smile tugging on them as he leans in. my lips move against his, hands reaching upwards to cup his face. he pulls back, that playful smile still present, his body pressed firmly against my own.

“we should fuck in places like this more often. you look so much hotter when you’re trying to stay quiet.” his lips ghost over mine, biting against them softly, about to lean in and kiss me again, before a stern voice sounds from outside the changing room, tom and i both turning towards the curtain, my face turning a dark shade of red.

“hey, whoever’s in there, get your things and leave right now, or we’re calling the police!”

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

[sw33ti3pie]

Heyyyy could I have more info on your s/I? I'm curious to learn more about her!

YEP! I put together a little bit of info on my self insert so imma just use this question to post it all! [hope u don’t mind]

I tried my best to make the story comprehensible sorry if my writing isn’t the best I have problems with writing but I love telling sweetie’s story so I hope I did okay! ^^

General information!

The not so sweet story of sweetie swirl’s cutie mark:

Sweetie swirl was ur average foal raised by mrs and mr swirl. Mrs swirl always highlighted the importance of being elegant, kind and well, sweet!

Mr swirl saw her babblings about kindness and sweet things rather sour. He thought if everypony was soooo kind nothing would done. Negativity was was a tool, a motivator.

Sweetie thinks they’re both nuts, they’ll find their own way.

The hard way.

Since sweetie was in primary school they found it impossible to make friends. Or even talk. Often hiding their face under their long dirty blonde hair, unable to make eye contact with their peers. Though there was one pony ...

Scootaloo , they wey the only pony to try an strike up a conversation that wasn’t just purely insulting.

Sweetie was coloring in their brand new wonderbolts coloring book and scootaloo basically ran to them

“Hi, uhm is that wonder bolts”

Sweetie hesitantly nodded putting their crayon down

“…mhm wonderbolts”

Scootaloo’s face lit up as they looked at the half colored page

“Woah you did that??” Their mouth agape

“Can I try??”

Sweetie had smiled for the first time at school that day, after meeting their first ever friend.

Come next school year everyone was starting to get their cutie marks. Scootaloo and sweetie were subject to the teasing that came with being blank flanks or “late bloomers”. Sweetie swirl couldn’t stand the attention that was put onto them they’ve used anything they could to cover their blank flank. Hoodies, blankets, Even restored to using bandage wrap for the most part.

One day scootaloo introduced a new friend. Sweetie bell, They all agreed to sit at lunch together and play together. Strength in numbers y’know. But soon scootaloo would start hanging out with sweetiebell more and more than they come to school with another blank flank friend, Applebloom. They called themselves the cutie mark crusaders! And sweetie swirl was kinda just hung around. They never really got invited to hang out . it was clear they weren’t part of the group.

Over the next few years, the cmc had finally gotten their cutie marks. The anger from the teasing that was only getting worse and feeling rejected by their only friends stirred inside of sweetie swirl, they were almost a teenager and still didn’t have a cutie mark. Their self confidence was at an all time low when they got a visit by the cmc. They offered to help sweetie get their cutie mark! The cmc introduced sweetie to all their friends incubated the mane 6. Sweetie felt alive again! Picking up on the mane 6’s amazing personalities and learning that hate won’t get them a cutie mark and will only really drive people away. Pinkie helped them laugh off the bullying and embrace themselves for who they are! and fluttershy taught them how to be kind in the face of harassment and handle bullies passively. Through these amazing friendships and lessons sweetie swirl finally got their cutie mark! A heart shaped lollipop, representing staying sweet and having compassion for others!

Sweetie swirl changed it’s name to sweetie pie after getting married to pinkie at age 17

[eggwishing]

LORD alfuckingmighty i don't think there is a single string of words i could piece 2gether to properly describe the absolute magnificence of ur art . you have such a vast understanding of art & so many of its intricacies. ur character designs are ALWAYS incredible, so so endearing & memorable. every time i see one i get incredibly excited & am strangled by the urge to make fanart because just. oh my god. you have some of the BEST color work i have ever fucking seen like it is genuinely fucking spectacular what you are able to create & look good with combinations of colors i would NOT think to place in the way you do if i were given the same palette. i feel like calling your doodles just "doodles" is like, WRONG, because every single one is something u could spend ages looking at on its own. i'd pick favorites to describe but we would be here for hours . you have the insane ability to keep your style consistent but are able to stretch it & change it for whatevers appropriate/the receive your desired result for the particular drawing and its just SO. SO. COOL. take literally all of this and add it to the fact that you can fucking ANIMATE !!! while still keeping all of these features of ur style intact and that fact is just OTHERWORLDLY to me in the best way possible . not only that but ur stories r always so very intriguing and it makes me SOO ANGRY that oc artwork & original stories dont receive the same attention as fandom work or otherwise because i swear 2 fucking god you go absolutely ABOVE and beyond in terms of creativity for ur stories & DESERVE THE RECOGNITION AAAAAAAAUUUUUUGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!! GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRORWGGGGGGGGGGGGRWGGGGGGGGGGRGGGGGGGGGRGGGGGGGGGGGGGRGGGGGGGGGGGGGG okay im done. i hav been up for almost 24 hours and saw one of ur drawings and got real emotional ihope uhave an awesome day eebrt i hope to be at least 10th place in ur list of biggest fans .

oh my god . I'm responding to this on a computer which doesn't have any of my usual images OR emojis that I would usually throw at you like. I don't know Someone who's really really REALLY good at throwing stuff. so I'll just use my words. THANK YOU SO MUCH !!!!!! this means the absolute world to me.. I did not expect to be blasted in the face by one million kisses when I checked my inbox, I had to sit back in my chair like WOW.... I love you .... I love youuuu...... thank you so much for the encouragement, I've been feeling not so confident And kind of afraid (leaving to study animation in college very soon) for the last few days n your words are lifting me out of the void like bingbong's rocket from inside out. not gonna lie your comments are one of the highlights of posting on Tumblr, I love reading them so much when you reblog my stuff. they're beautiful and always make me feel better when I'm feeling down... you were there from the days of homestuck dragons... you were always there for my ocs... You are a "real one." If I had a heart locket I'd print out your icon and put it in there along with all the other people I treasure ^_^ so yeah, definitely in the ranks... when I'm up on stage wearing a solid gold tuxedo (they had to wheel me in because I could not walk in the Solid Gold Tuxedo) and giving my speech to the world before I take it over my i will start by saying First of all I'd like to thank Mel Tumblr user Melissa-titanium On Tumblr for always hyping me up... could not have made it this far without him. And then I'd press the doomsday button and blow up every world leader.

I wish I could respond with something that appropriately returns the energy of what you sent me, but this is all I've got. Just know I am vibrating in my chair right now... hope you got some sleep!!!!! <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

[ador3sturniolo]

omg can u write about angst w/ the song drivers license w matt or chris when they broke up w the reader but they end up going back to her place to be like i miss u and either she rejects him on the spot or is like i’ll think about it

“Please?”

An - Ahh!! Thank you for the request! I hope I can do as close to what you wished for!

Paring - Matt sturniolo X Fem!Reader

Summary - Matt breaks up w/ reader

Warnings - angst, Cursing, Mentions of ed, Kissing, NOT PROOFREAD, Hope I didn’t miss anything!

Word count - 1.2k ishhh

“Fuck!” Matt shouted.

“Matt it’s okay, we can work on it.” I spoke up a little scared to hear what comes next.

“I just don’t think we can. I think we need to break up.”

Those were the word you most did not want to hear.

“I just can’t keep having to deal with you.”

I felt a tear drip down my cheek.

“Okay..” I say looking down making my way out his door.

“Just fucking leave!” He shouted throwing up his hands.

“What the fuck do you think I’m doing Matt!?” I say rushing out of there going down to my car. I start my car with a river streaming down my puffy cheeks. I sob as I slowly leave the driveway, checking both ways of the road.

I’m almost home and still crying, my hands are shaky and my vision is blurry, that I pull over on the side of the road to finish crying so I can see clearly. I pull into my driveway, getting out of my car, tiredness filled my eyes as I walked through my house. I don’t even care about changing or taking off my makeup, I just lie down in my bed, falling asleep as soon as I close my eyes.

I couldn’t stop think about Matt the next morning. I didnt eat that entire day, laying in my bed crying all day is all did and wanted to do, and I did that for a couple days, not wanting to leave my bed or do anything.

2 weeks later

I wake up with mascara stains on my pillow case, my hair a mess, and my house dirty. I haven’t eaten in a while, and still no texts or calls from Matt. Chris and Nick text me once in a while to make sure I’m doing okay. I stand up and walk to my kitchen, grabbing a bowl of cereal, sitting down turning on my tv. I see that The sturniolos posted a new video, I click on it to see Matt with a big smile the whole video. It’s not fair that he gets to be all happy while I’m out here, not happy. I finish eating, putting my bowl in the sink and running back to my room to get my headphones and phone. Clicking on my cleaning playlist, I started to clean my house. Washing my clothes and bedding, sweeping my dirty floors, picking up trash just laying around vacuuming my carpets. It was night when I was done, even though my house was clean, I was still upset, think that cleaning would make it better but it didn’t. I lay down in my bed closing my eyes, before getting up to take a shower, which I haven’t done from the past weeks.

I get in the shower letting the water hit my dirty skin. I turn off the lights in my bathroom so I’m showering in the dark. I couldn’t tell if it was the water or that I started crying. I cry as I wash my hair and body. I get out the shower, clean. Looking at myself in the mirror, my eyes all red and puffy.

“Get your fucking life together” I tell myself in the mirror. I do my skin care and get into a clean pair of pjs. I cute up some watermelon and get a glass of water, and take a picture and posting it on my instagram story. Healing 🤍 I title it, letting people know I’m okay.

2 more weeks later

I decide to be a little crazy and put myself on tinder. I set up my account and go to bed right after thinking nothing of it.

I wake up to a couple guys that liked me, they were cute too! I messaged back one of the guys. We get a conversation going and he wants to take me out to dinner tonight. I smile bright at my phone and a get up and start to get ready for our date. I play my favorite songs as i get ready. I start to think to myself how I’m happy now then I was before.

I put on my favorite red dress that highlights all my curves and black heels. I looks at my phone to see that he texted me saying he was here. I walk out my door and get in his car.

Matts POV :

“It’s been a little over a month since I broke up with her..” I spoke up to Chris.

“Do you think she’s doing okay?” I ask Chris. He nods.

“She is. I still text her. She has a date tonight, so I think she’s moved on.” Chris states.

I was in a state of shock. There’s no way she could have gotten over me that quickly. I get up off the couch and head to my room. I’ve been pretty miserable without her these past couple of days, I thought I was fine. I want her back. She still has to have some feelings, right?

Reader POV :

“It’s now been two months from the first date I went on with him. He’s such a nice guy and we have so much in common. We’ve been on more dates and I have another one with him tonight.” I write in my diary before I get up to get ready.

After the date

“Thank you for tonight.” I say as pulls up to my house.

“No problem pretty.” He says as he pulls me in for a kiss.

Making out for at least two minutes, I pull back.

“Did I do something wrong?” He spoke up

“No, just think we can save this for another time” I wink as I step out of the car.

We wave at each other as he drives off. I walk up my driveway, smiling as I look down at my feet. I bump into a body as I look up.

“Matt? What are you doing here? Are you okay? It looks like you’ve been crying” I say concerned look up at him.

“I miss you. I’ve been so miserable without you. I need you back in my life, I want you as mine again.” He said through sniffles.

“Matt..” I hesitated

“Please?” He said looking down at me begging.

“fuck” I whisper

“Im so sorry to do you like this when your in this state, but no. Im sorry but Ive moved on okay? I think it’s time for you to aswell. We need to meet different people. I know we had a past together but I don’t want to continue it. We can still be friends?” I said making eye contact with him, cupping his cheeks.

I could tell he wanted to cry so I pulled him in for a hug.

“I’m sorry.” I whisper as he wraps his arms around my waist and cry’s.

“Did you walk here?”

He nods as he wipes his nose.

“Okay I’ll drive you home, just let me go get my keys” I say as I rush inside for my keys and walk back out to him.

The ride was silent the whole way.

“Okay we’re here, do you want me to walk you in?” He shakes his head no. “Okay then. Matt?”

“Hm?” He says turning towards me.

“Just know you can talk to me about anything, you can text or call me, we can hangout, whatever you want, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you, I’ll see you later.” He says as he walks away.

I smile at him as I drove off. I take a deep breath as I pull into my driveway. I go inside and get unready from my day and go to bed.

I’m being woke up by my phone ringing. It’s Matt. I pick up.

“Matt?”

—————————————————————

An - Hi guys! Thank you guys for the support on my last story! I hope this one is just as good as my other one! Sorry if it’s not sad enough, for y’all : ( I love reading it, but I’m not the best at writing it so bare with me 🤍

[ssalballoon]

Whats your art process and what would you reccomend for someone who would like to achieve a style similar to yours? i love this mix of cartoonism and realism. your work is such an inspiration >.<

oh gosh! thank you?! 💞 i'll do my best to explain it, but even I have a difficult time trying to understand my own art process/style because of how inconsistent it is;; (i still have a lot to learn!) this is gonna be a long reply so i'll place it under the cut

process:

I start loose with a more gesture type rough sketch. I mainly just do lineart in the same layer as my sketch and erase away parts I don't like. Sometimes I'll lower the sketch's opacity and on a new layer do my lineart (which is what i did for the drawing above). But regardless doing that loose gesture sketch helps keep my drawing dynamic even as I refine over top of it!

- I duplicate layers A LOT for safekeeping my previous progress, especially if I'm thinking of making a big change (ex. changing limb position)

If I wanna put colors down underneath it I set my lineart to Multiply. For coloring I'm very inconsistent with the process, but recently I've been using a more subjective coloring style, where I pick my own shadows and highlights to try relying less on blending modes (which is gonna be too long to get into here;;) Finally if I feel like it, I make a layer on top of my lineart layer where I render everything

Oh this is something that helps me a lot for colors! I have 2 layers that are a mid-gray tone placed above all my other layers. One I set to the Color mode (to make the drawing black and white), and the other I set to the Luminosity blending mode (to make the drawing's brightness the same..?not sure)

The Color layer helps me check if I have enough contrast in values, and the Luminosity layer helps me check if I have enough contrast in color hue and saturation!

style:

This is really difficult to answer because style encompasses so many different aspects of art, but I'll try to focus my answer on the mix of cartoonism and realism that you mentioned!

I struggled trying to explain what my style is like so I just broke down one of my drawings that exemplifies a lot of my stylizations! Hopefully these can give you some pointers about what I tend to think about when I draw (click for higher quality)

(+to add to this i use a brush with no size pressure, only opacity pressure)

What I recommend for stylizing a realistic character: The way I learned to stylize a more realistic character like this one was to import a reference of his face, then trace over it very deliberately, making sure to stick to big shapes and characterizing details I thought were important to achieve his likeness! Then I'd turn the reference layer off and freehand it over and over, comparing and redrawing until I managed to get the mix of accuracy and stylization I liked!

What I recommend to find a style: I basically ended up with my style subconsciously as an intersection between the things I like to see in art + the things I like to draw! Most of my inspiration comes from anime (😔) and artists online. I'll see a very specific stylization I like in others' art, and try replicating it to see if I like how it fits with my style + if I enjoy drawing it in that way. I did this a lot over the years, accumulating into a big mosaic of inspiration from all the artists whose work I personally enjoy and learn from! I know this isn't exactly answering how to get a style like mine, but I think knowing this general process may help you out in the long run!

ahh i think that's it! i tried to be as comprehensive as i could without being too verbose (my bane). i hope this is the answer you were looking for and that it can help you! 💞 and thank u for the ask! it was a good exercise for myself to analyze my own art

[st-hedge]

hey hedge! i have been following you for a while now, and i hope you know that everytime you post one of your painting pieces my jaw drops and i literally am in awe. id really love to learn how to do the painting-esque style that you have- i was wondering if you maybe had any tips on getting started, or even just how you started yourself?

wonderful job :) i want to be just like you someday

Hey thank you so much !! 🫶 sorry for taking a while to respond, I held onto the message trying to figure out what makes my style mine since i can’t see it from an outside perspective. I think I started to paint the way I do now cuz I tried to mimic the cel shaded style of botw and realised how much I love the result. I used to paint in a very airbrushed blended way and I always felt that my painting looked shit

Trying out cel shading made me feel much more confident in stuff like placing shadows, highlights, sculpting shapes, and even picking colours

When I paint I use a very restricted amount of brushes. I think that’s what achieves the painted look since I depend more on brush strokes to imitate texture?? (My best guess) maybe if u are experimenting, try changing brushes and sticking just to one for a painting and see how u can get the most use out of it and u might find a favourite - or even a new style that u really like

[choicesficwriterscreations]

CFWC Writer of the Month - June 2023: peonyblossom

Each month CFWC highlights one of our talented fanfic writers, and this month’s writer of the month is @peonyblossom We hope you will enjoy learning more about them and their work below! The writer is selected at random. More info can be found on the navigation page.

Quick Links:

Tumblr Blog: peonyblossom Blog Masterlist AO3

How do you want to be known on Tumblr? Peony, Jay, or Ethan

1- When did you start playing Choices? What was the first book you played? 

I started playing Choices when it was first introduced after I saw the promos on HSS and HWU. Ofc the first book I played was High School Story!! 

2- When and why did you join Choices fandom?

I joined the Choices fandom because of Thomas Hunt LMAO. After playing the Thomas dates in HWU, I looked him up on Tumblr to see if there was any fan content, and there was (HUGE shoutout to @lovealexhunt and @gutsfics because their works were the first ones I saw). Through following a few Thomas Hunt fan accounts, I found some other stuff in the fandom, like CFWC, and decided to read some other really popular stories, and it just snowballed lol.

3- How did you pick your blog name? 

I wanted something that wasn’t fandom-specific so I could post content for any of the many fandoms I’m in. And peonies are my favorite flower! 

4- Pull up the first post in your archive, and tell us about it!  

The first first post in my archive is a reblog of a One Direction fanfic. My first original post was about the show Miraculous Ladybug. 

5- How long have you been writing fanfiction?

Ooh. A long time. Sixth or seventh grade, so nine or ten years? 

6- What is your favorite Choices book, and what is your favorite Choices book to write about?

My favorite Choices book is America’s Most Eligible, but my favorite book to write about is Red Carpet Diaries/Hollywood U. I think I just like reading and writing about stories in the film industry since that’s what I do, lol. 

7- Share the first fanfic you wrote with us. Do you still like it, or would you change it if you were writing it today?

Waiting Game / peonyblossom / AO3

I still like it! But, if I were writing it today, I would probably make it third person instead of first. It’s still cute, though!

8- What is your favorite fic that you’ve written?

Okay, probably a tie between What If It’s Now? and Love Lost.

9- Do you have a fic that you didn’t expect to be well received, but it was? What about one you expected to be but found could use a little more love?

I think there are a few I thought would’ve gotten a little more attention when I first posted them, but by now, I don’t really think that anymore. 

10- If you could write only angst, fluff, or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why? 

FLUFF. I mean, I pretty much only write fluff right now; I just love it so much! 

11- Do you ever recognize yourself in any of your MCs or in your writing?

Oh yeah. I think I see myself the most in my RCD/HWU MC, Jackie. In the HWU Universe, she’s a film student, like me, and in both universes, she’s an actor, like me! 

12- What element of writing do you struggle with most?

Finding the time to do it 🥲 Other than that, probably just get started. I tend to psych myself out, especially with bigger projects. 

13- Do you have any neglected work you really want to finish?

So. Many.

14- If someone you know in real life (who isn’t involved in fandoms) asked to read your work, would you let them? If yes, what would you recommend they read first? 

It depends on who it is, but I’d probably let them. As for what I’d recommend, it also depends on the person. Honestly, might just send them my AO3 and let them decide ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

15 - Are there any writers (published authors and/or fanfic writers) who influenced your writing? 

Probably more than I know! I’m sure there are plenty of authors who influence me subconsciously. But, I would say I tend to be influenced by classic novels like The Great Gatsby and The Picture of Dorian Gray.

16- Which one of your stories would you most like to see as a movie/series? 

Forever Sounds Perfect! I would love to just watch Ethan propose to Sydney 🥺

17- Do you write original fiction? 

Yeah! I mostly do screenwriting, but I also do fiction and poetry writing. 

18 -  What other hobbies do you have?

Hiking, reading, and yoga!

19 - What’s your favorite emoji? 

🥰 or 🫶

[frascospecimen]

do u have a specific color palette that u use or do u put a filter over it or smthn im curious :?

I’m not sure if this was in response to a specific piece of art or just like. In general lol but I will say generally I just bs colors that are muted or a little “weird” until it looks good. LOLLL here I can use the shiver as an exampleMaybe it would help and be fun if I got the speedpaint actually

For this specifically I did use an image for the colors but I edited it to make the colors look different. Specific things such as darkening it, making the saturation higher to make the colors pop a little more cause they’re farther apart, tinting it yellow, tinting it a little blue after that to mute them a little, things like that. But then even after I color pick from that image I will often change the colors a little more LOL things like making the black lighter and a little green, making the blue a bit more purple, making the white yellower etc. Specific thing I’ll do is SIMPLIFY COLOR PALETTES TOO!! All of the white parts are one white, all of the reds on shiver are the same, etc. The color I used for the light highlights on the hair and shawl is the same color as the shaded white! Even a lot of colors on the props are color picked from other colors I already used!

If I’m struggling to get colors to look good (like I did with this for a bit, there was a lot of undoing!) I find using an image ref but just bullshitting it until it looks different makes me happy LOL I like colors that are muted and I like things that feel tinted more warm or yellower. As of late I’ve been OBSESSED with using this sort of bright light yellowish greenish in place of white, some of my recent favorites use it!

More pronounced in some than others.

Also big thing I’ve been doing lately is using shading to exaggerate colors! Going back to shiver using a more cyan for the lighting on the hair really makes it pop and connects it back to other warmer colors, using greener shading on the white looks nice, etc. Shading is fun :^)

Hope this helped!

[melis-writes]

Why you don’t like Apollonia? (I get this vibe from u, but correct me if I’m wrong)

You're 100% correct about the vibes. 🤣🤣 I don't like Apollonia at all, whatsoever and it's because the Godfather fandom completely ruined her character for me. 🥰

It's not just the new Godfather enjoyers, like gen z or millennials but also the boomers. Apollonia is sadly a vessel for misogyny in the Godfather from Apollonia stans alone. I can't look past it even if I tried; I get Apollonia stans commenting nasty shit on my gifsets of Kay (that's how annoying + bothered they are) and trying to start discourse over any post that highlights a miniscule positive thing about Kay Adams.

It's disgusting to see how Apollonia is glorified for being the quiet, submissive and obedient housewife. She's what Michael "needs" and is the "perfect wife" and the ones that put Apollonia on a pedestal like this are misogynists, vehemently sprout the nastiest shit about Kay and women like Kay that you'll ever hear, talk about how Apollonia could have "changed" and "fixed" Michael (dude is beyond redemption and is almost a sociopath) and could have birthed him "lots of babies". Literally, that's all Apollonia is "known" for and loved for, it's pathetically sad. The bar really is in hell.

So while Apollonia is praised for all of these hypothetical scenarios, Kay and women like Kay are shit on, ridiculed and picked apart to pieces. It's disgusting and whether it's a boomer enjoyer or someone my age, they'll be saying the exact same shit like it's scripted or clockwork or something about Apollonia every single time.

Apollonia's young age is also glorified even though she's a minor/child, and don't even get me started on the scene of her undressing in front of Michael--I know it's a little off topic and more about Simonetta as an actress but the fact that there's grown ass men fawning over a minor's breasts makes me want to actually vomit.

Putting aside the misogynistic culture some Godfather fans have placed upon Apollonia here, I don't like the character itself. To me, it's obvious she was a filler, empty character Mario Puzo wrote and used to develop Michael's character development because she's literally never mentioned again unless you want to count Michael confessing to Kay he "slept with someone" in the book while he was abroad.

Apollonia was never in love with Michael and Michael wasn't in love with her. Apollonia's father got giddy at the idea of his daughter's beauty bringing in a rich, powerful and influential man who was the son of a Vito Corleone. Nobody cared what else Michael had to offer the Vitelli family besides reputation, wealth and physical protection. Nothing even mentions if anyone cared how Michael would treat Apollonia but oh boy, Michael showed it well. He literally refused to let her leave home for a week and all he did was have sex with her over and over again. And every single time, Apollonia would just get up, shower, fuck off and do something and Michael would just lay there. She would just do whatever he wanted and yet somehow, the Godfather fandom is screaming "true love" and "soulmate" when it's literally just Michael being horny. I need y'all to understand this man was thinking with his dick only.

I don't care who likes/stans Apollonia, all I want is for people to be respectful about the whole Apollonia and Kay thing. If Apollonia's as amazing as some people claim, then I'd sure hope she can brought up without the mention of Michael being in a relationship with her and without dissing Kay in the same sentence (IMPOSSIBLE CHALLENGE EDITION).

Apollonia and the whole Sicily arc is so far gone and damaged to me that I just skip that scene when watching the movie and pretend it didn't happen because of all the bullshit that went out in the fandom and is still ongoing today. 😐

[bylrndgm]

Hey elz! Would you consider doing a tutorial of how you did the frame thing in this post: /post/724195624728379392/and-it-felt-so-nice-so-peaceful-and? It looks so cool!

hi anon! thank you for reaching out. i really appreciate it & you made my day! 💚 ily!!! for length reasons, you'll find the tutorial under the cut!

Resources used:

Photoshop

Vintage flowers pngs -> you can either google vintage/watercolor flower png or here are some DeviantArt packages [x] [x] [x]

Font: Avenir

Workflow

After you have made your gif as you would normally do, it's time for the frame.

First: place the flower

Once you got your flower pngs it's time to place them on your gif. Go on File > Place Embedded... and select the file. This is what will happen.

Now, click on that little tick (✓) on the top right corner, so that your image is actually placed.

Press the shortcut CTRL+T (on Mac: Command+T) to open the transform options - basically it is the same as the photo above. I tend to do it this way, because if I don't like the adjustments, I click on the ⊘ button. If you did that when you placed the image, it would delete the image.

So now, move the image, resize it using the handles on its corners while pressing shift on your keyboard to maintain the proportions.

Once you get a result that satisfies you, click on this button (highlighted in purple)

Now you can wrap the png, and make it "fuller", more natural looking, moving the intersection points of the grid that will pop up

When you're done, confirm.

Now that you placed your png, you can manipulate the colors. Click on the png layer and press CTRL+U (Command+U) and in this case you would adjust the Reds and Yellows.

And you're done!!!!

Second: the border

To make the border use the Rectangle Tool (shortcut: U). On the menu bar on top, set the fill as transparent and the stroke as white

Then drag your mouse and create the rectangle

Then of course, adjust it if needed - by clicking on the rectangle layer, the properties panel will open (if not, go on Window and check Properties).

Now duplicate the layer (CTRL/CMD+J) and make the original rectangle invisible by clicking on the eye next to it.

Right click on the copy and rasterize the layer -> this rasterized layer will be the one you'll work on (you keep the original one as a safe harbor in case you don't like the changes made on the copy).

Now, with the copy selected, pick the Eraser tool (E), reduce the opacity of the layer and zoom in, and erase the parts of the rectangle that goes over the flower. When you're done, set the opacity back to 100%.

Third: add the text

And that is literally it! Super simple and quick to make, and of course you can add as many pngs as you want to create somewhat of a bouquet. The real game changer is the Wrap thing you do to make it more natural, like a real bouquet!!!!

I hope this was helpful and if you have some further questions please please reach out! Love u!!!

E.

[myillusions]

My Love Mine All Mine | Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Subconsciously, you do know exactly where you stand with someone of such brooding nature when braced with the problematic consequences of getting involved with Joel Miller. Though, luckily, hope blurs the lines just enough to be blinded by it.

Pairing: Joel Miller (The Last Of Us) x f!reader

Word Count: 7.8k

Warnings: 18+ mdni, SMUTTT, unprotected piv (wrap it before u tap it), toxicity, QZ era Joel, manipulation kinda, dark themes, reader age unspecified but is over 18, Joel canon s1 show age (56), oral (f!receiving), creampie, dirty talk, possessiveness, rough to desperate sex, praise & mocking, slight dubious consent through power imbalance, angst, no use of y/n, no vivid depictions of reader except female anatomy and has hair. let me know if i missed anything!

A/N: um.. hi. apologies about the disappearing act, i know its been a while (like a year.. whoops). thank you for being so patient with me, I’m so sorry for being so slack, life has changed a lot in the last year. after episode 2, something just clicked and this was born. hoping anyone who sees this is doing well <33 here’s my first attempt at smut, so I apologise if this is horrible but im in mourning and miss him. enjoy and thanks to anyone who reads. dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Masterlist

Sweet, whispered nothings into the brisk air surrounding, catching in the zephyr to whisk away from your pleading grip before you even had time to outreach your own bruised hands to capture them.

Because they were never really yours to hold onto. Only fleeting moments; moments which you would allow to ooze into the cracks of your soul, excruciatingly making its place there with its hooked claws. Moments that you can’t have, and maybe that you don’t deserve.

No matter the vehemence you may portray, Joel Miller has never been one for emotions. You know that. A brooding husk of a man, cruelness emanating from his mere presence. Sometimes you wonder if he has always been like this, unwavering and staunch, or if maybe there was a hidden fragment of his shell that is tender-hearted, compassionate. Maybe something had broken him down for so long that he learnt to craft the walls built on his own agony. 

You don’t think he’d ever allow you to catch a glimpse of this piece of him, if it did actually exist at all. Even if you, in all your naiveness, highlight your shattered self along the leather of his boots for him to examine, you don’t think that scowl would ever fall from his features long enough for you to peek through that rough exterior he so adamantly clutches onto.

It was frightening, feeling so bare. Allowing this dim personage to incautiously peel back your skin for his ravenous gaze, whilst you lie painstakingly compliant. Letting him pick at you until you have nothing else to offer.

You would let him mould you into something amenable any time he wished, shaping you meticulously until you only fit alongside him. 

The time in which he stayed afterwards was always transient. You were both warm bodies which found unprecedented comfort within the other. 

So, after you had both reached that climax of the night, where pain blends deliciously with pleasure and reverie, you would so desperately long for him to remain beside you throughout the frigidness of the night, with his burly arms curled along your waist. But, he would always unfold his sweaty limbs from yours; and then he would leave you- a twisted sculpture, limbs dangling on the strings he sewed delicately into your supple flesh.

Sometimes he wouldn’t even bid you goodbye. He would just deliver a firm hand to your already bruised and raw rear before he’s hoisting himself to his leather boots, fixing himself in his jeans, the sound of the zipper painfully thrumming against your ear drums. He would leave you there, tarnished and impure, sprawled out amongst the dishevelled sheets, unable to move, the door of your dilapidated apartment closing promptly behind him. You would sit in the tranquillity of the tenebrosity until the strength gradually bled back into your limbs, and until you conjured up the energy to clear the smeared haze from across your mind.

Sometimes you would cry. You would furl into yourself, knees pressing securely to your chest, arms wrapping protectively around your quivering physique. You’d sob into the space between indifference and despondency, dimming the scar set beside reality and fantasy. Your head a hum of clouded visions and blurred memories.

At times, there wouldn’t be any communication as to when you would see him next. You would go a month without catching even a glimpse of him inside the QZ, then on a seemingly trivial night, past curfew, with the beams of moonlight casting your tightly-spaced living room in an insubstantial milky glow through a cracked window, he would enter the apartment silently. Your bed, set in the room opposite with no set doorway, would be shrouded in darkness, and he would march around to your bedside with leaden steps, before slipping under the covers, curling up behind you whilst you slept.

He would whisper near unintelligible blandishment into the skin between your neck and shoulder, something about how much he needs you, how much he’s craved you. You would gradually stir as his large hands fell to your pants to undo them, only bothering to slide them down to your thighs along with your panties, before you would distantly hear the buckle of his belt, and then he would be sliding inside of you with a hoarse groan.

You would rock your ass back into him with a whine at the intrusion, and he would grip unwaveringly at your waist to subdue your movements so he can control the pace. You take what he gives, and nothing more. He would begin to move, his cock sheathing in and out of your tight walls. His palms would venture under your tank top that was far too small for you, groping against your flesh as his hot breath casts over your pulse point, panting out into the stillness of the air.

“Fuck. Feel so good. So good. Just like that, baby.”

Your body would shiver with his words. It wasn’t often he praised you, so when he did, you would treasure it; grip onto it cautiously- let it fester by your rotting heart.

He would often manipulate your body into a position where you’re facing away from him. This being because he believed it felt more pleasurable, or that it would be less intimate that way, you weren’t sure.

He would avoid your mouth at any opportunity he could, though. Burrowing his head into the crook of your neck to nip at the skin there, or flipping you around onto your stomach carelessly when your face hovered up too close to his, heavy breaths mingling in the space between- he would always preoccupy himself with something else.

You longed to feel his mouth pressed up against yours. Yearned to let the smoothness or the voracity of it wrap its arms around you in a compelling embrace. You would take it however it came, allowing it to soak into your flesh, because the need Joel would constantly set ablaze was entirely tenacious and all-consuming, with no room for reprieve.

It was always the little things. The content stares through the haze of hunger, the mahogany of his eyes so deep you could drown in it. The tender touches, the ones full of longing, which were so idiosyncratic to his usual character. The affectionate, staining press of his lips against your flesh. 

Maybe you were tired of hanging onto the little things. Maybe you were more fatigued than you realised. Even with your body painted raw, one night, after he had left you an unceremonious splatter of yourself, you got up from your mattress on shaking limbs; and you packed a bag.

You had heard others talking of a truck stacked full of supplies leaving the QZ, and you decided you would be going along with it. You weren’t one for abandoning everything on a whim, but this was far more than that. This was more than just him. Your body ached, and fatigue ripped at your abdomen with unrelenting force. You had to get out. Even if whatever awaits you outside the secure QZ walls is rumoured to be horrific and monstrous, you couldn’t decompose here anymore.

You had lost the grip of your own life, willingly handing it over to another with feeble hands. It had become a life of just expecting, of anticipation. Waiting until your flesh disintegrated into ash to reveal your fractured bones.

You would be leaving tomorrow night. You will be leaving tomorrow night.

Spry fingertips casting over a destroyed brown backpack, stuffed to the brim with any essentials you could acquire, your eyes hover around to your living room window, ajar, broken hinges squealing with every brush of wind against it. The hazy glow of the late afternoon paints your wooden floors, speculating the conclusion of the day to give way to the apprehension of the night. You still had at least fifteen minutes before you had to begin making your way to the drop-off point, and you weren’t going to take any chances in being late.

You can hear the distant whir of FEDRA vehicles rolling over asphalt at the foot of your apartment building, administering the curfew for the QZ. You collect the last of your necessities, anything you could hold, sanctioning a hunting rifle alongside the pack.

Then, three abrasive knocks are being plastered against the frame of your door.

You tense, hands instinctively shooting down to where your holster is usually strapped to your waist, but is now discarded off inside your bag. Two more knocks sound, more rushed this time. You exhale sharply through your nose in an attempt to recompose yourself, and pivot around on your heels to move towards your door, a clammy palm curling around the handle, before yanking it open.

You’re met with a hauntingly familiar scowl.

Your heart stutters in your chest as he momentarily scans along your physique, his broad shoulders stretching along navy blue material as his arms cross over his chest, then his searing glare moves behind you. You watch as he gradually takes in the sight of your somewhat bare apartment, gaze falling to the backpack sprawled across the dining table, and his pupils narrow, snapping back up to you.

“Going somewhere?” Joel inquires, tone so caustic it makes your mouth run dry.

You don’t reply for multiple strained beats, mind scourging for an answer to give him over the clamorous sound of your heartbeat reverberating against your eardrums.

“I- no.”

Your eyes divert downwards, occupying yourself with identifying each and every crack scathed along the wood below. You try to ignore the way your voice wavers with uncertainty, even after he clearly notices, shown in the way he exhales heavily, almost like he was disappointed. You don’t want to disappoint him.

Joel doesn’t respond just yet, and instead takes the few steps to cover the ground between you, moving past the border of your door frame; invading your senses. You stiffen when his hand raises to cup your chin, dragging your wide gaze back up to meet his honed one, and you think that if you observed close enough, you would find sympathy rooted in the tenebrous brown of it.

He tilts his head, his thumb slowly dragging over your flesh, setting it aflame beneath his touch. His voice is sickeningly honey-smooth when he speaks again; a double-edged sword of benevolence and malice.

“Sweetheart. Where do you think you’re going to go?”

You swear you see the corner of his lips tug up in a conceited grin, whilst your heart plummets in a spiral towards the dim depths of your stomach. He was right, in some way. You had a way out of the QZ, but what then? Where do you go from there? A morose knot forms at the back of your throat, threatening to break past your lips in a cascading wave, and Joel tuts empathetically, discerning your reaction.

“I don’t think you’ve thought this through, have you?” He inquires, and you find your head shaking on its own accord, bottom lip wavering on the verge of a dejected snivel. You internally scold yourself for how easily you’ve splintered before him in such a concise amount of time- how you’ve already allowed him to so effortlessly invade your vulnerable identity.

So you forcefully drag yourself back from him, taking a prompt step backwards, his hand falling from your face to waver by his side. He blinks once, bemused. You swallow gratingly, gathering the courage to rise and meet your tone.

“I’ve already decided, Joel.”

He frowns acutely towards this, a brow rising in an almost challenging manner, “Have you, now?”

“Yes.”

You didn’t sound very certain.

“I don’t think you have,” He counters, inching towards you once again, but you keep the distance, needing it to remain adamant in your words.

“No, I- I have. I can’t keep on doing this.”

This makes him pause, his brows furrowing with dubiety. Your stomach whirls with trepidation, hanging you out over a steep cliff with just a mere flimsy string of resolution to hold you.

“Doing what?” His voice is laced with a kind of venom that makes your skin crawl, itching with anxiety.

“This,” You answer exasperatedly, hands flying haphazardly to gesture between the two of you, wishing he would understand. He goes placid, shoulders tightening, a palpable silence taking over the space between you, your palms curling into fists by your sides to dig your nails into frail skin; a distraction from the discernible and suffocating tension.

You had expected for a weight to be lifted off your chest after this admission, but instead it’s like it has doubled down tenfold, its primary mission being to hold you down against a floor engulfed in serrated nails, letting you bleed out at the shoes of the man before you. 

Your hazy vision refocuses abruptly on Joel when he inhales sharply, his jaw fixing.

“Okay.”

This makes you cease, gears grinding to a halt. You’re not wanting to delve into why, but you feel a wretched pang of hurt within your abdomen at the indifference of his reaction. He didn’t care enough to fight for you, or for this.

You all but splutter, nails near to drawing crimson blood along your fingers with how deeply they sought to dig into your palms, “Okay what?”

He side-steps, virtually admonitory, his brawny figure shifting out of the way to reveal your open door.

“Then leave.”

Your heart grits to a perpetual stop. Eyes flitting past him to the looming hallway outside your door; a whisper of allurement, yet also a caterwaul of menacing corruption. You could leave now, head for where the supply truck is scheduled to pull up shortly, and be done with this entire thing. A relinquished mess.

You should leave.

Start a new life, away from the QZ; away from Joel Miller. The one you had so readily exposed your volition to, carving your rib cage into shape to punctiliously make space for him. The one who had discovered your ins-and-outs like a puzzle piece, bending the form of you to fit him with calloused fingers.

Maybe you had confused chaos for fondness, but that didn’t take away how he was the one you had found solace in within those numbing nights- where you had found your refuge, your protection.

And so, against your better judgement; you hesitate.

Joel notices. He always notices.

“Or…” He drawls out, broad shoulders manoeuvring back in front of the doorway, his large hand coming to cup the edge of the wooden frame. “You can let yourself have this.”

Your eyes flutter back around to his, chest cramping with dubiety. He reaches his arm back, your door screeching against its junctures, before it closes with a forbidding thud, a glaring murmur of your fate being sealed.

“And if you decide this isn’t what you want, then you leave,” He continues, hand falling to his side as he crosses the space set between you, and you instinctively back up.

Your spine gently collides with the wall as he stalks forth, and his fingers raise to scathe over your cheekbone, his eyes following the action. Your heart stutters dangerously, skin heating with the drag of his skin. “It can just be us.”

When his gaze meets yours again, you immediately recognise how his eyes have expeditiously darkened, pupils humming along the edge of his irises, blurring out the smooth brown of them. You wish his eyes could be an open window to his mind. But you think, even if you may be imagining it, that there’s a sense of vulnerability within the black; a plea for reprieve.

Suddenly, you’re a bird trapped in a cage. Wings thrashing helplessly, claws engraving the iron bars in hopes that bloomed freedom you were promised to take flight with is still feasible.

“Joel…” You whisper hoarsely- a pitiful reprimand on your part.

His hand drops silently from your cheek as he leers down at you, dark eyes briefly fluttering to where your lips part with an inaudible gasp. Your heartbeat falters at the small action, and for a second you think he might kiss you.

Then, he’s cocking his head at you, brows raised inquisitively.

“Sound good?” 

You internally curse yourself for how you allow yourself to believe his simple words linger with a sense of assurance. You barely register how quickly he’s managed to weasel his way through the barriers of your mind, how it comes so naturally to him to emphatically drain your volition from your bloodstream. Regarding him with a lidded gaze, you don’t respond- though in the way your shoulders slump, physique mechanically melting towards him along with the last of your tenacity- it seems to be the only answer he needs.

In a swift motion, he’s dipping his head down to attach his lips to your neck, laying a quick open-mouthed kiss there before he’s nipping repeatedly at the supple flesh surrounding, smoothing it over with his tongue. Like clockwork, you sigh shakily, chin inclining back against the wall to provide him more access for his mouth to swipe against your pulse point, a hand raising to his chest, fingers bunching up the material of his dilapidated blue denim shirt.

His lips swipe along your collarbone, teeth scraping along flushed skin, and your back instinctively arches towards him, seeking out his touch. He responds with a grunt, a hand falling to your hip to secure you back against the wall; a reminding gesture of his brawn and the overwhelmingly present authority he has over you, consuming your every breath. His free hand lifts to tussle with the buttons of your shirt, each releasing pop a promising seal, until he becomes impatient halfway and rips downwards, forcing the rest of the bothersome links apart. He shucks the shirt off, dragging it swiftly down your arms and discarding it carelessly off to the side.

He makes quick work of re-occupying his hands, palms raising to cup your breasts, squeezing over the bra you adorned. The pressure makes you gasp raggedly, arousal stabbing at your pelvis with hooked, serrated claws. You fight the urge to lean into his hold in consideration of his recent disgruntled reaction to your keening indulgence.

You want to call him out on his iniquity, his unfairness, but when his hands release your breasts to swiftly guide down the expanse of your torso and quarrel with the buttons of your jeans, insistently tugging them apart to shove his hand down the front of your pants, palm pressing against your pelvis as his fingers glide over the dampened material of your panties- it sufficiently diverges your train of thought.

A low growl resounds from his chest, head tilting forth to press his forehead against your temple, his breath casting along your cheek, forcing a shudder down your spine.

“So fuckin’ wet for me,” He rumbles, one of his fingers running light circles over your covered clit, your hips bucking at the sharp sensation.

The feeling is gone just as quickly as it came, much to your disquietude, his hand shifting away so he can forcefully shuck down your jeans, wrestling them off your legs, throwing it heedlessly to join the bustle of your shirt on the ground.

Before you can even think about ceasing the whir and reel of your mind, he’s dropping down to his knees until they hit the splintered hardwood below, your fingers limply untangling around his shirt. His fingers loop over the elastic of your panties, steadily dragging them over your thighs, the expanse of your legs, before flicking them somewhere behind him haphazardly. 

You inhale shakily as your core is revealed to the chilled air, which is gradually becoming more and more heated, almost palpable, as the situation escalates, your heartbeat ricocheting so clamorously that it’s a surprise you haven’t lost your balance, your blood pulsing strenuously through you.

He takes in the sight before him with a ravenous gaze, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip in anticipation, and it makes your chest clench. He swoops his head forwards to deliver a few small bites to the tender flesh of your inner thighs, travelling upwards- near, but not where you want him specifically.

You sound a barely distinguishable, yet pleading, whine, making him pause, breath fluttering along your skin. He sounds a breathy chuckle- more to himself than you. You ache so dreadfully, so incorrectly, pussy pulsing around nothing in desperation.

He barely bares you a second glance of examination before he’s dipping down- and then he’s fucking eating at you. Tongue gliding out to taste your gathered slick, a grunt of approval when it melts against the muscle, the curve of his nose prodding against your clit.

You choke out a ragged gasp, hands bracing against the wall you lay your weight on. His tongue swipes along your drenched folds, relishing in the sweet flavour of you. His hands fold around your body to cup the plumpness of your ass, pulling them apart to feel the sticky wetness, fingers squeezing and kneading.

His palms dip to cup the end of your asscheeks, holding you in place in a prudent cradle, before he’s circling sharply over your clit, a strained gasp clawing at the back of your throat.

His lips latch around the pulsing nub for a moment, sucking vigorously, your hips bucking into the edged sensation, before he’s smoothing it over with a delicate swipe of his tongue, like he’s mending a wound. Your dull nails dig and swipe against the fissured plaster of the wall behind you, aimlessly searching for any sense of equilibrium.

A hand slips from your ass to grip against the flesh of your thigh, forcefully hoisting it up over his shoulder, your own palm steadying on the wall behind you in a fight for balance. His tongue burrows through your soaked folds, prodding at the throb of your hole as his chin tilts upwards, seeking more. More of you. As though he’s famished, as though he can’t get enough of you or the copious amounts of want leaking steadily from your cunt.

Your palm tilts from the wall to abruptly twist through his silver-strewn locks, tugging at the mottled brunette as he directs his attention against your clit, the tip of his tongue flicking repetitively. A rolling grumble echoes against his throat, the exploit reverberating along the base of your spine, coiling around your waist to pool fiercely in your abdomen.

Rapture kindles through you fiercely, head toppling back against the tattered surface behind you as his travelling muscle falls from your sensitive clit, back to your hole, licking inside you zealously, his eyes shutting with an uneven groan into you- jagged, serrated pleasure trembling through your pelvis. He manoeuvres his actions, switching his acute attention between your thrumming nub and clenching hole, his nose dragging through your needy slick with each pass.

“Joel, Joel, fuck-“

Humming attentively, he drags his tongue back to your entrance, teasing at the edges of your hole, before dipping inside your wet heat, eagerly thrusting in and out, the curved ridge of his nose nudging against your thrumming clit. The exaltation coils up from your toes, expanding hastily through your searing veins until it’s settling like molten ignition in your lower abdomen, threatening to topple over until you’re left crumbling into a puddle on the battered structure of your apartment's floor.

Giving you a reprieve for only a moment, Joel lifts his head back from you, heady breath whisking against your drenched, swollen folds as he murmurs gruffly, “Soak my face, baby. Wanna taste you.”

And then he’s dipping back in without hesitation, messily swiping up the slick that continuously pours from you, your own body betraying and exposing the twisted wills of your mind, the hungry strokes of his tongue nothing short of compelling. He latches his mouth firmly around your swollen bundle of nerves, sucking fervently whilst the tip of his tongue simultaneously flicks against it, and you’re trembling, the frangible twist of your pelvis disintegrating with alacrity.

It only takes one final brush of his quick tongue through your saliva-slicked folds and an earnest suck to your fluttering clit, his teeth barely grazing the sensitivity, before your legs are buckling, frame only held up by Joel’s anchored grip against your thigh and asscheek, his calloused fingertips bruising the frangible skin. Your vision peels down around you as your eyes unceremoniously roll to the back of your skull, lips parted with an inaudible squeak, your lower spine arching from the fissured wall.

Your lower abdomen twists in a lustrous dance as you’re propelled through ravines crashing against unsteady shores, your hips frantically jerking back and forth to chase the unrelenting movement of his mouth, which Joel allows, eager to drive you through the shattering release. You gush along his mouth and his tongue, which greedily laps up everything you have to offer, groaning between your legs as though your juices pouring along his taste buds are his only reprieve.

And with the gushing sensation of your pulsing cunt- your insubstantial tenacity falls with it. Like crumbling barriers, it melts like molasses around you, bleeding down into a puddle along the floor where Joel is perched on his knees, ensuring he captures every drop of your leaking essence with a debauched slurp.

You exhale shakily through your come-down, eyes lidded as the back of your head limply meets the plaster behind you. Joel licks through your folds once more, your thighs trembling at the shock of overstimulation before his mouth is dispersing, raising a hand up to his hair to untangle your fingers from the surprisingly soft strands. He uses the momentum to strenuously heave himself up from his knees, joints popping with the awkward strain. His fingers brush against the back of your hand as he purposefully pilots your hand to hang pendulously at your side.

You stand with bated breath, throat tightening as his coarse digits glide slowly up to your wrist, then up your arm, to your shoulder, the whirl of his mahogany eyes watching goosebumps prickle along your skin. There’s a stern precision painted along his expression, and maybe a more defenseless part of you believes you spot awe in his stare.

Then his hand is rising to curl over the nape of your neck, directing your chin up with the tip of his thumb to meet your gaze with his. He says nothing, simply searching your face with an intensity that should frighten you; but rather it invites you. You expect he’s waiting for you to cease this, to dismiss any further advances even after his face was buried between your legs, the shiny evidence of it smeared along the scruff of his beard.

But your ribcage is already bared- nicked, irregular and raw. Your mind is cast over in an obfuscated haze, swarming through your inhibitions much like the spread of cordyceps through the vulnerable strands of someone’s brain. You have no inclination to stop this now.

Because it wasn’t a want anymore. It was a need. A need for him to reach into the carved open expanse of your chest to grasp and twist the caving flesh himself, in the way that he desired. It has shifted into a primal craving running so deep it blurs the edges of your vision and makes your head whirl with an ailing, poorly veiled longing.

His face is so near his breath casts along your flushed features. You can smell the potent scent of whiskey, and you. It overwhelms your senses, glossing your pupils over with unfiltered desire. Under his examination, you’re a barren slate.

A knowing grin barely flicks up the corner of his mouth, jaw flexing.

With a rapacious flick of his tongue over his bottom lip, swollen with his rapture of you, he drops his head down to bare his teeth and drag them along the flutter of your carotid artery. He grazes downwards until his mouth is pressing to the upper slope of your breasts, sucking an angry mark into the swelled flesh as his hand simultaneously reaches behind you. Cursory fingers quarrel with the clasp of your bra until it’s droopily spilling down to crowd against your ankles.

He doesn’t waste meaningless time, promptly kissing over the curve of your left tit, smirking enthusiastically against the warmth of your skin, a murmur reverberating against you, “So sweet.”

“Always so sweet,” He adds gruffly, before hastily towing his lips down to capture your breast in his mouth, tongue leisurely dragging and flicking along the nipple, pebbling it in the wet ardor of his mouth. You pant breathlessly, body exhilarated after the enthralling effects of your prior orgasm.

He bears another suck to your breast before releasing you with a pop, the hand that was curled around your nape travelling downwards to knead over the curves of your physique with gluttonous intent.

Core beating an erratic pulse of want, you arch your chest up against him, chasing the rough drag of his hands with a tottering murmur, “Joel-”

Joel swings into motion as his name drips from your lips, the cord having unravelled long ago, grabbing roughly at your hips to hoist you away from the wall, maneuvering the two of you until you’re stumbling, backpedaling towards the open-walled bedroom with a bemused noise. 

He mouths at your jaw, swiping his tongue along the underside with a drone, “I know, sweetheart. I know.”

The moment the backs of your knees tap against the edge of your mattress, he’s pawing at your waist, pivoting you around before you can even think to steady your palms against him. He bends you over with a palm to the middle of your spine, fingers curling over the bowed ridges as he forces your stomach against the threadbare bed balanced on discordant metal hinges.

A bulky leather boot kicks your legs apart, stepping closer until his hips are pressing up against the curve of your ass, the bulge of his cock straining against his jeans. You both sound a simultaneous sigh of mitigation at the sensation of him flush against you, the chill of his zipper trembling along the warmth of your centre.

“Gonna change your mind,” Joel mutters from behind you, like he’s narrating it more for himself. You should reel away from his comment, your mind whirring with former hesitations that’s now warring with a confliction of your brain professing; yes, Joel, make me stay. Your palms curl up over your disheveled sheets as you bite back the urge to undulate your hips back into the swollen hardness of him.

The resounding clink of his belt buckle has never sounded so rewarding when combined with the pulse of your own capricious heartbeat hammering in your eardrums, blood swimming with licentious adrenaline.

You can hear the rustle of fabric as he tugs his jeans down to his thighs, hissing near inaudibly when he wraps his hand around the base of himself. Your breath hitches when he wordlessly lines himself up with your entrance, the head of his cock dragging along your folds, letting your spilling wetness coat him.

Suddenly, you’re a lone shell stranded on the beachside, waiting for someone careless to prance along to admire the shimmer of your skin and pluck you into a plastic maroon bucket for their taking.

An oyster prepared for the strike of the curved knife to emphatically peel open your casing in search for the pearl that awaits inside for a greedy man's taking.

Joel has always been known as a man who takes.

He sheathes himself inside of you in one rough thrust, grunting imperceptibly as he pushes into the velvet of your walls. You cowp forth, abdomen flattening against the mattress at the stretch, pain and relief mingling confoundingly in your pelvis, snaking around to the base of your spine.

“Fuck, always so tight f’me,” He mutters, and it’s the only time he grants you to adjust to the staggering size of him before he’s pulling his hips away, then slamming back home with a flaring huff of effort drawing from his nostrils.

He instantaneously sets a vicious pace, never being one to treat you with benevolent care.

Your mouth parts in a silent cry at the overwhelming sensation as he bucks into you, repeatedly sheathing his cock into your glossy cunt. His hands clutch securely at your waist, leveraging his thrusts to grasp the unrelenting swing of his momentum, a thickened haze of overwhelming sensations casting over your frame, engulfing your vision in whetted edges.

The pain rapidly mingles out into pleasure, burning up through your veins, latching around the fluctuating pulse of your heart. A slew of wanton moans tumble recklessly from your mouth as your head limply lolls forwards, physique jolting with each brutal snap of his hips into yours, the gradual sound of skin striking against skin resonating delightfully in your eardrums.

“Tryin’ to take this cunt away from me,” He mumbles beneath his breath, fingers holding a bruising grip against your hips to propel you back against his swinging hips. His blunt fingernails dig into your malleable flesh as he continues in a chide. “She needs me, baby. You’re just too fuckin’ stubborn to admit it.”

He’s belligerent and demanding, blurring all of his pent-up lust and long-lasting bitterness into each of his thrusts, the head of him slamming harshly into you at the angle he’s deriving from your body, as though he’s intent on engraving his name along your cervix with his cockhead.

He shoves through the sensitive drags of your walls that pulse repeatedly around him, the shrill creaking of the old bed ignorantly cast aside by previous owners creating an engrossing a combined symphony of your broken cries and his harsh, stifled grunts.

“Listen to you,” He huffs out, the squelch of your cunt stretching over the thickness of his length obscene as the night dips onwards, delving the apartment into a dim darkness, leaving just the two of you bare to the other. “Needed this, I can tell.”

He can always tell. Unfurling you from the outside, and now the inside, prodding at you until your core twists and threatens to unravel all at once.

You never had to say anything, and still he could deteriorate everything you worked so robustly to maintain- a silent communication you wish you could swallow like pine needles in your throat. His communication consisted of this; the brutal shove of his cockhead hitting your cervix, like him nudging against your most sensitive parts is a true proclamation to everything he feels. That everything he wants to say but is left unsaid is being divulged- or that’s what you enjoy telling yourself, anyways.

“They couldn’t handle you out there. Not like I can,” He mumbles to himself, the words barely coherent to you as a weak ringing pitches in your eardrums, eyes glossing over in a libidinous term.

You mewl desperately at a particularly sharp thrust, your upper body preening downwards further, stomach nearly pressed flush to the mattress. The action draws a malicious chuckle from Joel, his grip keening bruises into your willing skin, his twisted amusement evident in the mock of his tone.

“Yeah, you ain’t leaving, are you, baby?”

You don’t respond- can’t respond- your physique jolting with each swivel of his waist, only kept still by the firmness of his hold.

He doesn’t seem as enthused by your lack of response.

His broad hands slide up from your waist, arms bulging to curl tight around your abdomen. His thick fingers splay over your stomach, tugging you back into him tightly so you have to arch your spine obscenely just to remain upright. His hips never stumbling in their relentless pace, cock pistoning in and out of you, he reaches around to press a calloused digit against your sensitive clit.

“Asked you a question,” He rumbles mirthlessly by your ear, breath hot against the flushed skin of your neck as he furiously circles your swollen nub, making you jerk in his hold, pelvis twisting tightly with a drip of ecstasy that threatens to unravel.

He parts his lips to scowl another mocking prompt, but he doesn’t get the chance- your legs trembling as a reverberant cry rips from your throat, eyes rolling back into your skull as a bursting wave of bliss curls through your veins. Your cunt spasms around his dick, juices coating him in a stumbling moment, a knot uncoiling all at once, unable to even send him a warning before colossal waves are being plowed along you.

Your fogged-over mind embraces the sensation like a comfort, no matter how overwhelming the sensation is, your knees weak where they’re pressed to the edge of the mattress. Your own vagility failing you, allowing him to completely engineer your body to how he wishes; laden in his hold, vitality his own. Malleable.

A broken groan sounds from Joel behind you, his arms squeezing harshly around you as his pace stutters, cock lodging deep inside of you, his finger pressed limply against your pulsating clit.

“Shit- turn over,” Joel rasps suddenly, abruptly yanking his drenched cock from your quivering slit, twisting his legs to shove his jeans off the rest of the way, crumpling pathetically on your faded floorboards along with his heavy boots. His hands hurriedly paw at your hips, manoeuvring you higher up the mattress, manhandling you so you flip around onto your back. He instantaneously slots himself between your thighs he spreads with rushed, greedy hands, not wasting a moment before he’s curling his hand over the base of him and swiftly sliding back home inside of you.

He groans as the wet heat of you wraps around him, whilst a light hiss burns from your lips at the overstimulating stretch of him, the deeper angle making him feel like he’s sitting in your stomach.

Joel pulls back slowly, letting you feel the drag of him through your sensitive walls, then slams back in, making your cunt squeeze around him. He inhales sharply through his nose, calloused hands running up along your sides, pupils dark and somber, almost reverent, as he traces his touch, eyeing how your hole stretches around the thick length of him.

Your lidded eyes flutter, scanning over his rugged features; the firm set of his jaw, stubbled beard patchy, still glistening with your slick. You observe the delightful curve of his nose, the furrow of his thick brows saddled in concentration. Then your eyes meet his; the burning mahogany of them, searing through you like he’s only just seeing you for the first time, his deep scowl wiped away by something you’re unable to name, his lips parted like forbidden words are crawling forcefully to the tip of his tongue, clawing their way through his throat.

He looks ravenous.

“Look so good like this, all spread out f’me,” He rasps in a tone that you want to pinpoint as awe even if it feels foolish. His hips drag out again, before swinging forth, burying himself back inside you. Your breath hitches on a strangled moan, which just makes him repeat the action, your body keening beneath him. He huffs, leaning forward to build a steady pace. It’s slow, firm, him ensuring he parts your walls strenuously with each substantial, anchored thrust.

On a particularly deep drive of his hips, you gasp, your back keening upwards obscenely, hands reaching out to grab at his arms and shoulders still covered by his denim shirt, squeezing at the muscle you find beneath the fabric. His face pinches with something akin to agony, and he responds in kind by grabbing at the hem of the material, yanking it up over his head with the buttons still done up.

You don’t have time to thoroughly appreciate the broadness of his bare frame above you as he shoves his shirt away to the end of the bed, then folds himself over you. The slight curve of his stomach presses into yours, the warmth exuding from his frame seeping into your skin, wrapping heat over you like a blanket of weight.

His cock continues to sheathe itself in and out of you, his body jerking upwards to sink himself back inside, before pulling out slowly, then repeating. If he were someone else, it’d be intimate, passionate- how close he is, settling on a deliberate, insistent pace in juxtaposition to his usual reckless pounding. A sheen of his sweat covers his chest, slicking down onto your own where you’re pressed flush together. He tucks his face into the crook of your neck, beard scratching at your receptive flesh as his lips ghost over where your shoulder meets your throat, breath hot and rasped over your skin.

“Tell me you’re mine.”

You don’t think you hear him correctly at first, the words a near-strangled mumble against your neck, like he doesn’t actually plan for you to hear them, strained and heady.

But then he’s lifting his head up from your throat, his hand sliding up from your side to grab at your jaw, angling your face to meet your glassy, bleary eyes with his darkened gaze. His other arm curls up underneath your body, holding you pinned to him, his hips still moving sternly. Your hands fall to his stomach to steady yourself, mind blurred over with a thickened cloud.

He shakes your jaw lightly in an attempt to drag you from the shifting daze of permeance, his voice insistent. “Say it, baby. Say you’re mine.”

Your breath hitches, throat tightening around a lump that abruptly forms- definitely hearing him correctly this time. Incredulity soaks into your expression as you stare up towards him, seeing his resolution crackle and crumble, a desperation you’ve never witnessed before searing past his curled lips.

It feels like a sunken guarantee. Stuck here beneath him, limbs sprawled, cunt stretched around his cock driving into you slowly, unwaveringly.

“You’re mine, yeah?” He mumbles, face craning closer until his forehead is pressing to yours, his scratched and laboured breath mingling with yours in the space between, your chest clenched on words that won’t come.

You know what he’s saying isn’t a proclamation of love, nor is it a soothing press of his lips to yours- it’s possession. A claim over you like a snake wrapping its way over your limbs and throat with the intent to suffocate.

Say it.

You hesitate; not out of reluctance, but dread.

It’s never been like this before, your usual relationship rapidly attenuating in the hold of his words. It has always been; you’re not his to keep, and he’s undeniably not yours to grasp onto.

But like twirling vines cascaded along a brick wall, its branches too threadlike and its thorns too prickly, you prepare yourself to climb it anyways. You prepare yourself for the inevitable sting as the piercing thorns stab into your flesh and stain crimson along the maroon brick and fleck down onto the sage-tinted evergreen, leaving behind traces of your chilled blood.

And still, you know you’d continue anyways. You’d heave and haul until you could lug your fragile bones over the top of the wall, no matter if you landed on steady feet or not. Your lips part unsteadily, tongue twisted around vine.

“Tell me,” He repeats morosely, your eyes scrunching closed tightly, the warmth of him enveloping you, sticking to you like a second skin.

There wouldn’t be any hope of you remaining silent, even in the face of your own independence and dread.

“Yours,” You whisper shakily, the singular word trailing into a gasp. “Yours, Joel- m’yours.”

His body tenses, shoulder blades stiffening above you. He tucks his face back into the crook of your neck, his pace increasing, sharp and exigent, like he has to dig himself deep into your guts just to concrete the point to reality; you’re his. Body and mind, they’re ensnared to the rough grasp of his hands, the burn of his lust.

And you can’t complain, won’t complain. Because in the rough angles of his body, you find your passion, a driving, needy urge. All your emotions, desires, inhibitions- laid out in the palm of your hand for his taking, even after he was the one who put them there. 

“Yeah, tha’s right, you’re mine. All fuckin’ mine,” He pants into your burning flesh, hand curling away from your jaw to slope over your cheek instead, ensuring there isn’t a breath of space between you.

“Only mine.”

It was the most exquisite manifestation of self-annihilation.

You hadn’t realised just how fervently you had yearned for the physical form of his desire for you. But now with his hands grasping tightly at you as though you’ll shatter and disappear into dust were he to loosen his grip, and the headiness of his breath casting along your throat, the weight of his body against yours- your heart aches and beats in time with his.

His hips jerk into yours, stuttering, your hands bending to press your nails into his stomach, grounding yourself with the crescent-shaped indents you dig into his skin. 

Then he’s sounding a broken groan that borders on a moan, his pelvis melding fit with yours as his thick cock twitches inside you, before he’s filling you with streams of thickened, hot white. His come fills you thoroughly, staining your insides with him, ensuring his claim entirely.

He remains there, dick softening inside your pulsing walls, come already beginning to drip out around his cock where he’s stretching you, his face still buried into your neck; silent aside from his panting breaths.

It is no longer a question of what will happen anymore, where you’ll go from here.

Your fraying bag of your few belongings sits solemnly on the table by your fragile front door, a stark reminder of a grim reality that you know was never really within your reach.

Because you know, and Joel knows- you cannot breathe apart from him when you’re so intensely rooted to your apprehension, fomenting it with the flames it needs to kindle into a forest fire, burning anything it’s surrounding to dusted flakes of ash.

You turn yourself to Joel instead; for security, for desire, for delight no matter the anguish. You melt yourself into it voluntarily.

With his come settling deep inside you, his weight going slack with exhaustion above you- you swear you can hear the cavernous rumble of the QZ gates being hauled open with meticulous effort, metal grinding against metal and soldiers hollering orders distantly. Then the roll of rubber against gravel, a FEDRA supply truck reeling out and away from the Herculean walls of the safezone, out of the city and towards the unknown horizon line.

Your freedom dispersing with your vehemence, frame going lax under Joel.

But truly, and belatedly, you realise you did secure that vigorously sought after freedom anyways; the freedom of oblivion.

“A kiss can destroy a philosophy.” - Anaïs Nin

My Love Mine All Mine - Mitski

Comments and feedback are appreciated!

[mercuriale]

Reclaiming hardware Pt. 1: Wii U

Been a while since i last sat down and wrote out a post.

In the last 12 or so months I have been installing custom firmware on some older gaming devices i own but have fallen out of use. I had experimented with CFW on my WIi U maybe about 2 years ago with Tiramisu. A year later i scored a second-hand Vita, and just this last week I've been giving the CFW treatment to my 3DS, as well as updating my Wii U to the Aroma environment, and reviving an old R4 DS flashcart.

I have a few core beliefs with this kind of practice.

If you own a piece of hardware you can do what you want with it.

If a game is not made available to purchase legally or easily, at a reasonable price, it is ethically fine to pirate it.

Nintendo in particular can absolutely take the hit. After all, they're barely being kept afloat by one guy they cruelly saddled with millions in damages.

This post is a brief recount of my experiences modding, and i hope that by describing the problems and solutions i found along the way, I can help others.

Here are my experiences so far, per hardware.

Pt. 1: Wii U

I have a mega soft spot for the Wii U. It walked so the Switch could run, and being able to play full console game on the gamepad while someone else can watch TV in the same room is a really great aspect. The library is also absolutely killer; Bayonetta 2, Super Mario 3D World, Wonderful 101, Xenoblade Chronicles X, on top of the entire Wii library make this a fantastic box to mod. Compared to the effort needed to put in, you can end up with a console that can play the entire Wii U, Wii, and Gamecube libraries, plus Retroarch and other emulators for most older consoles.

I originally had Tiramisu installed but have upgraded to Aroma. I followed the wiiu.hacks.guide guide but sometimes these guides tend to gloss over details in the process that i would say are important.

What the guide doesn't explain, conceptually, is the concept of an environment, and the difference between Tiramisu (old) and Aroma (new, beta). I'll try to do so in layman's terms here.

Tiramisu is the previous established CFW Environment, and all side-loaded homebrew apps need to be launched through the Homebrew Launcher, which gets launched in-place of the Mii Maker app, and installed by other homebrew apps like WUPInstaller.

Aroma is a new Environment, and it enables apps to be added to the native Wii U Menu rather than having to use the HB Launcher. It also simplifies sideloading apps by establishing a new filetype, the .wuhb file. These can be copied to the sd:\wiiu\apps folder on the SD card, rather than using an installer app.

Upgrading from Tiramisu to Aroma is actually very simple. If you already had Tiramisu, all that you need to do is download the Aroma files from the official site and unzip them to the root of the SD card, merging them together into one sd:\wiiu folder. Then perform the exploit as described in the guide. You only need the .zip files in the Base and Aroma headings on the page, the additional plugins and modules are optional and you can come back to those later.

When performing the browser exploit, you have to hold the B button. Yes, keep holding. it takes approximately 1 minute, and you'll be on a white screen if all is going correctly. keep holding until the screen changes to white text on black, and asks you to choose your payload. run nanddumper and do your due diligence.

When you run the browser exploit the second time you have to hold X instead of B this time, and it will start the environment loader. Pick Aroma. At this point you can press Y and it will highlight it yellow, making it your preferred. A bright yellow warning will get thrown up on the screen regarding blocking updates. It looks scary but if you read it carefully, youll see that you can block system updates by pressing X. Press it.

the step regarding the PayloadLoader app can be skipped in my instance, as i had already set it up to run on boot automatically.

If you want to change environments with the above config (i.e. to tiramisu instead to run Retroarch), you need to hold X on boot. I wish this could be displayed briefly on boot, like with a PC to access the BIOS. This is very easy to forget when you have over 12 months between boots! I should also add that by "boot" i mean when the Wii U Menu is loading. if you start the console with the GamePad and have quick start enabled, you need to hold X right after you choose Wii U Menu in the bottom right corner.

Another handy file to have is sigpatches in the wiiu\environments\aroma\modules\setup folder.

There exists an app to download games directly. I already have a good physical Wii U Catalog, but you can install NUSspli to download games directly. Officially my advice is to only download games you already own. However, Wii U games are difficult to find for obvious reasons, especially niche cult games that aren't the usual Wii fodder for kids like Bayonetta 2 or Xenoblade Chronicles X. If you want to buy physical in any condition you'll pay an arm and a leg, if you can find anything decent at all. At time of writing neither of the above games are available on any other platform. By cross-referencing these facts with my beliefs mentioned above, you may be able to draw a conclusion for yourself. Forewarning, downloads are a bit on the slow side, and you have to have the app open the entire time. luckily for you, you can just switch over to your tv and watch something like i did, while keeping an eye on your gamepad.

Don't run the Health and Safety Information app once you've booted up your Wii U. if you've configured your PayloadLoader to automatically start on boot, its done. If you run it again, you'll be told off for running the EnvironmentLoader twice, and you'll need to hard power off your console and gamepad, which i've had to do more times than i'm wliling to admit.

I'll end this guide by confessing: I spent a lot of money in this era on this console. I don't regret it; I was living comfortably and could afford to at the time. It was fun to completely tune out what was happening for other consoles, and live in relative bliss with PC ports and the quality output for the Nintendo range at the time. It was fun to be hopeful and optimistic for the Wii U when so many others had already written it off completely.

Looking back now, the games lineup now that all is said and done is really quite fantastic; there looms an unfortunate shadow over it all though; many of the Wii U's best games have been rereleased for the Switch, having been expanded and improved even further, most notably Smash and Mario Kart 8, but the wii U versions are still great. It has the only Tekken game to appear on an Nintendo console. Bayonetta 2 and XCX are still wholly exclusive. Theres lots to like here. My hope and optimism were, to me, repaid in kind.

Thats about all I have so far for this thing. I plan to wade into the murky waters of gamecube games in the future, so i may yet write about my trials in that area. In the meantime, I'm having plenty of fun playing WarioLand 4 on a deliciously large screen.

[sanguinesky-if]

ok i stumbled upon this if and first of all amazing, perfect, mwah, 10/10 but goddang i made my mc stoic/detached, which thank you so much for that option btw, its incredibly rare for other ifs to implement it & usually it just sounds overly rude/detached & everyone ended up disliking mc, so like THANK YOU OMG I FINALLY CAN PLAY A STOIC MC AAAAA

But also, holy shit the atmosphere here is freezing???? Like is this the north pole ppl? Everyone is also incredibly stoic & detached, except maybe L, T and (maybe) I, it feels so frosty in here

Also, i cant seem to find this anywhere, what does the ??? stat means? The one where u click the <3 option but the ??? go up instead of 'romance' (tried this with T)

Also, CAN I PLEASE SLAP THE FUCK OUT OF R??? he's so infuriating holy shit. Can i make him eat his own words?? Pls pls pleasee? I'll even create a witty mc just to piss off this guy. I swear. I will even choose every fucking option to see which annoys him the most. Holy shiet.

I wanna wrangle his neck with mc's bare hands and i will watch in full glee. Fuck you, R.

And Author, i applaud you. Usually I find it hard to feel annoyed at characters, but that guy? *shoot middle fingers outta my ass* fuck u, R. Fuck. You.

*send you <333333 wheeee amazinf work! love it <3 love youu wheeeee🦄*

Thank you for such an emotional and heartfelt message and for taking the time to write to me, the "wheeeee" part especially made me chuckle ♥

what does the ??? stat means? The one where u click the <3 option but the ??? go up instead of 'romance' (tried this with T)

T, unlike the other ROs (not counting L in Chapter 1), has three flirt options.

All of them set the dynamic in the relationship: bold, shy, and… something different.

By picking the third flirt option, you won't get romance points with T. Instead, you'll get another stat "???", which is named as such because both characters won't be able to clearly tell what's going on between them.

In this confusing relationship dynamic, the MC prioritizes emotional bond while trying to ignore T's obvious physical attraction.

This complicates the relationship, as T is a person who builds relationships on physical attraction alone, and they don't know how it could be any other way.

To them, it will seem like a mixed signal from the MC, and they will try to get a straight answer to whether or not the MC is interested in them.

Originally, I hadn't planned for this dynamic to affect narrative moments that highlight T and the MC's fleeting moments where the attraction is palpable, as it does with classic romance points, but maybe I'll change that later.

Hope my answer makes sense!