#i will have to drive there myself for the first time

[biancadoes1]

Hi,

First off, thank you for posting my post. Organized Anon. I never thought people would care what I had to write, just had to get that off my chest and I love a good list lol. I guess, I have more so here is part 2. Lol

Today will be the Wild West west for Lukolas. I see people sending in post that are all over the place.

I myself am not a lukola -per se. I love Nic and Luke. I would love if they dated. But I like to remain neutral. I find it is the best for me. For me.

I am seeing posts saying Nic and Luke are beefing bc he did not post for her bday and she has not liked her post. My advice is to not engage with people who think Nic is dating Jake. It is a waste of time. You could have ET standing next to you saying aliens are real and they still will not believe you. It doesn’t matter about posts talking about the meaning of sweet one, they will not listen. The only thing to prove a jakola wrong is to let them use their brain. Trust me, if you ask question that requires thinking, in a respectful way, they will not know how to respond or what to do.

again, saying Nic is with JD bc she went to his premiere is childish. Saying she is mad with Luke and she has been showing JD off since Luke went to Rome is childish. Saying there is beef between them is childish. yes, I am even calling so called Lukolas on this site out who are agreeing with things.

there is nothing we can say to prove or show. But again, ask yourself those key questions.. if she is dating Jake and they have been out an about all this time, why not just post or tag that is who she was with in her photo. Nic has a brain and smart. We know they went to the WT movie together and we know they spend time together so why not post or tag him- and she might later do this- but why be public with JD on certain days and private with him on other days- makes no sense. No logical sense. People already think they date, so why hide him on the bday post. -Because his is most likely isnt dating him. This is just from rational thinking.

again, think rationally. Why would two adults- who play a beloved fan favorite of Polin be beefing and put in on SM for the world to think so. It’s bad for the product. Look at the Amazon show, culpa tuya. The leads are apparently beefing and yea people are talking but Polin is a different type of love story. Shonda would not let dirty laundry out so stop with the beefing theory. People sound like children. And these are grown adult women. Stop thinking that people are vindictive and want to manipulate others. Go seek therapy and figure out why toxicity is a driving force in your life. If Nic was beefing, why is Luke all over her end of year dump. His photo is on the back of her phone. At the least, they are besties.

now the million dollar question- why did he post for Claudia Bday and not Nic. There are only two possible reasons. A. JD is her man and he did not want to take away from JD on her special day. OR B. Luke is her man or her and Luke are getting close and decided to make it private - no attention. I believe the latter based on rational clues. Extra extra eyes were on them this year. Commenting on her SAG post was loud but not posting is louder. Personal stays private.

Could I be wrong yes- lol. But I’ll leave with this. If Nic is dating JD, you will have people saying she trolled the fandom. And if you are being honest, it can be seen that way. Posting and not posting jd. Jd trolling as well, saying things like people want me to marry Luke , doing that audiobook. It’s just too much. And she will get push back and fans will leave. I don’t care how nice people think JD is, he is not worth losing fans for. But let’s not think on this. We will cross that bridge, when or a big big big big if we need too. thanks!!!

.

[alansparkshark]

One has to wonder like, who actually kicked MC to the curb? Was it like a king who had his court wizards make a summoning circle? A god that pulled them from their world to make them save the world they got sent to? Cause it was mentioned towards the start that the entire class saw MC get banished for his "weak" skills, and then all the class just immediately found their first Public Enemy #1.

But does anything happen from that? Is the plot just "Yeah let's get some more strength and skill under our belts, get MC, and then commit this world's first and most devastating drive-by on the PoS that chucked him away"?

Cause that just sounds like what's being built up here.

-------------------------

Prez: So, (Class Mom), you sure this tent has divination protection?

Class Mom: Yep, tested it with everyone who can use detection magic, future sight, and (Goth Girl)'s Patron even agreed to test it and said the inside couldn't be observed.

Goth Girl: We better use this as often as possible... A month of my cell service... Gone as a cost...

Prez: Your sacrifice is appreciated. Now, with our privacy secured, let's start the first meeting for the plan.

Delinquent/Bully: The "Fuck That Motherfucker That Banished MC To The Asscrack of Geography" plan?

Prez: We'll workshop the name but yes.

Tomboy: Don't think (MC) is here though. Shouldn't we include him?

Class Clown: Eh, he's a big strong boy, he'll find out one way or another. Not like we can't fill him in next time someone's sniffs him out like the IRS.

Class Mom: I'm still surprised they found us here. Good thing (Prep Girl's Familiar) is immune to bullets.

Prez: Tell me about it. Now, back to the topic at hand. The Plan.

Football Club: I mean, what's there to plan? We could just speed run the quest they sent us to, get to meet them again, and rush 'em.

Prez: Not devastating enough.

*Half the class looks at him weird. The other half, including Momma, Goth, Class Clown, and Tomboy, nod in agreement.*

Prez: As we all remember, the only thing that stopped us from actively jumping on the bastard was the confusion of being in a new world. Once we got teleported to the castle, some were immediately angry with what happened to MC, myself included. Others took a few days to acclimate, but once settled in, everyone was in agreement by the end of the week. That alone, that we were all in agreement that MC shouldn't have had that happen to him, should tell you well enough that this shouldn't be a run-of-the-mill beating. All of us have ideas. Everyone wants to give them a piece of our mind. If we just go in guns blazing, it'll be over before everyone gets their licks in. So, we'll be taking these meetings to plan an itinerary of who wants to do what, so that we can make a day out of it and have everyone's input matter.

*Silence*

Bully: Dude... You've really been stewing on that ever since you sent that one deaths tare in the throne room, huh?

The standard 'entire class gets isekai'd to a fantasy world and the outcast MC is basically discarded' anime setting, where the MC, now assumed dead, decides to instead help the class of Heroes in the shadows, making sure they live up to what the people need.

However, the entire class knows that he's alive and are hellbent on dragging that son of a bitch back into the spotlight and to give him the recognition he deserves.

(And maybe because he was basically the entire class's Little Guy™.)

[wonkizz]

do you feel the same way i do about you?

성훈 x fmr genre: angst warns: cursing, shit talking, alcohol/drinking, unrequited love, parties, not proofread

Sunghoon is your best friend. Someone you’ve gone through hard times with, someone who’s always been there for you. It was easy for you to catch feelings, but it was also just as easy to hide them away.

The one thing people always say about you and Sunghoon is that you’re so different it’s almost comical. He’s loud and cheerful, albeit around people he’s comfortable with, while you’re quiet and shy with practically everyone, even him.

You’ve tried over the years to branch out and make more friends, but you always find yourself falling short and just missing the mark.

But Sunghoon, he’s never made you feel bad about your personality, if anything he’s allowed you to embrace it.

Which is why when he convinced you to go to a party with him, he was as shocked as you were.

You don’t go to parties, they’re just not for you. But Sunghoon said this one would be good and a chance for you to make more friends.

He wanted to introduce you to his other friends, the ones he’s made at your college.

You were hesitant but decided it might be worth it in the end.

Only problem is, you don’t have party worthy clothes. Your style is basic, you wear jeans and sweaters on most occasions because you prefer comfort over anything else.

When you tell Sunghoon this, he urges you not to worry about it, saying he’ll handle it.

What exactly does that mean? Buying you the skimpiest outfit he could find.

The dress is short, barely covers your ass and your chest is nearly exposed.

“Sunghoon, I don’t think this is for me,” you say, staring at yourself in the mirror.

You did your own hair and makeup, although barely any, and the outfit was the final touch.

You don’t look like you.

“Are you kidding? You look great!” He says, enthusiastic as ever.

“I just… I don't look like myself, you know? I feel weird.”

“I promise, everything will be fine. I know you’re stepping out of your comfort zone for me, and I really appreciate it. This is just part of it.”

Sunghoon, ever the sweet talker, smiles when you nod.

“Okay, let’s go.”

The drive isn’t far, it’s being hosted by Sunghoon’s friend Jay.

When you say the house is gigantic, you mean it.

Your one bedroom is more like a studio compared to it.

Your nerves start to get the better of you, and you almost don’t want to get out of the car.

Sunghoon opens the passenger door for you, holding out a hand, “Come on.”

You take it, and he leads you up the steps and straight inside, not even bothering to knock.

Then again, why would he have to? It’s a party for god's sake.

He leads you through a wave of bodies until you reach the kitchen.

6 other guys are standing there and Sunghoon greets them eagerly.

You can’t help but stand there awkwardly, twiddling your fingers and looking down at the ground.

“Guys, this is Y/N, my best friend,” Sunghoon says as he begins to point at everyone, “Y/N this is Heeseung, Jay, Jake, Sunoo, Jungwon and Riki.”

You wave at them, giving a shy smile as they all greet you.

“You didn’t tell us how pretty she is, Sunghoon,” Heeseung says, raising an eyebrow.

Sunghoon scoffs, “Yeah yeah, don’t overwhelm her, this isn’t her type of thing.”

He grabs two beers from the fridge, opening them and handing you one.

You sip it gently, souring at the taste. You’re not a big drinker either.

It’s not long before Sunghoon effectively abandons you.

He dragged you to the dance floor one minute, then the next he was gone.

You don’t know why, but something is telling you to head upstairs.

It’s there you hear your name coming from a bedroom with the door slightly ajar.

“Why didn’t you introduce us to Y/N sooner?” You barely recognize Heeseung’s voice amongst all the noise coming from downstairs.

You certainly recognize Sunghoon as the next person to speak, “Parties aren’t her thing, I told you that.”

“We’ve been in college for 4 years though. This is the first time you’ve gotten her to come to one?”

“What else can I say? She’s a stick in the mud.”

“That’s not a very nice thing to say about your best friend,” Sunoo speaks up.

“I know, but it’s true. She’s kind and all but she’s so shy and closed off that she can’t make friends. The only reason we really became friends is because our parents pushed us to be close.”

Ouch.

“So you’re friends with her out of pity?” Riki asks.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Sunghoon retorts, “she’s sweet and I appreciate having her as a friend but she’s kinda boring and our personalities don’t really match at all. If it weren’t for our parents, we probably wouldn’t be friends at all.”

“That’s harsh, man,” Jake pipes up.

“I know, I just…don’t know how else to describe her.”

You’ve never felt genuine heartbreak. Not until this moment.

So this is how he feels about you? The best friend you thought accepted you for who you are, truly just…tolerates you?

Has he always felt this way? Has he only kept you as a friend out of pity?

You never thought of yourself as less than when it came to Sunghoon, but now, you’re doubting everything you thought you knew.

As tears gather in your eyes, you turn around making your way back downstairs and out the front door.

You call yourself an uber and go home, crying silently in the back seat of this stranger's car.

Once you make it inside your apartment, you take the heels Sunghoon bought off, thank god because they were killing your feet.

Heading into your bedroom, you look at yourself in the mirror again. The girl glaring back at you, isn’t you. She’s what Sunghoon wants you to be, but clearly you can’t give him that.

You almost tear the dress as you’re taking it off, and change into sweats and a t-shirt.

As you lay in bed, you think back on your years with Sunghoon.

All the time he tried to convince you to do things with him, all the times you tried. All the times you asked him to do something with you and all the times he declined because they “weren’t his style.”

Has it really always been like this? You, trying to be different for Sunghoon, but Sunghoon, never trying for you?

Suddenly you feel humiliated.

Humiliated at the fact that your friendship with Sunghoon has all been a fluke.

You’ve always accepted Sunghoon for who he is. Yet, he never truly did the same for you.

Your phone buzzes beside you, Sunghoon’s contact coming up with a text.

‘Where are you?’ It says.

You don’t bother answering, instead, putting your phone on the charger and turning it off.

You fall asleep with your eyes swollen and heart broken.

When you turn your phone on the next morning, it’s full of texts from Sunghoon.

You, again, don’t bother answering. You’re disgusted by last night's events.

You don’t have class thankfully, so you lounge around in your pajamas all morning.

It’s not until noon when there’s a knock at your door.

You mentally slap yourself for not checking the peephole, because once you open it, you regret it.

Sunghoon stands there, an evident frown on his face.

“Why haven’t you answered my texts?” He says, immediately.

You feel snappy, like the word nice is not in your vocabulary at the moment.

“Can I be honest? I didn’t want to talk to you.”

Sunghoon’s face furrows, “Why? What’d I do?”

You just begin to laugh. You don’t know if it’s the leftover pain morphing into anger or the fact that you’re tired.

“Why are you here Sunghoon? I don’t need your pity, not anymore.”

“What are you talking about?”

Then, you’re shouting, “I heard you last night! You’re friends with me out of fucking pity and I’m honestly disgusted!”

Sunghoon’s face morphs from confusion to shock.

“I…you heard me?”

“I did.” You nod, “And honestly, if you were so fucking bored of me, you should’ve just ended the ‘friendship’ instead of dragging it along like this.”

“Y/N I…I didn’t mean any of that—,”

“Yes you did! You did because if you didn’t, you wouldn’t have said it.”

There’s nothing but silence from his end, like he’s trying to process everything while you’ve already caught up.

You can feel tears pricking your eyes again and damn if it isn’t embarrassing to cry in front of him, but at this point, you don’t care.

“You know what hurts the most?” You ask as Sunghoon looks up, into your eyes.

“The fact that I did so much for you. You wanted to go out? Fine. You wanted me to put myself out there in a place I was totally out of place at? Fine. So many times I made myself uncomfortable for you. But the very few times I asked you to do something with me, for me, you always said no. It wasn’t your thing. Do you realize how fucking pathetic I feel knowing my friendship was so one-sided?”

Sunghoon doesn’t say a word, tears gathering in his own eyes. “I’m sorry.”

You nod, “I’m sorry too. Sorry that we both wasted our time. Sorry, that I ever had feelings for you. Consider this ‘friendship’ over, Sunghoon.”

With that, you close the door in his face, locking it before letting yourself break.

You settle on your couch, curling into a ball, clutching a pillow as you cry.

There’s a few stray knocks, but he eventually leaves.

WONKIZZ 2025

[punks-never-die205]

Happy Birthday Cap'n

cisfem!reader x Eustass Kid

No Summary, just lots of smut... about 4,838 words of it.

CW (deep breath): vaginal sex, anal sex, anal play, dildo, vibrator, wax, degradation, swearing, messy sex, impact play, orgasm denial, forced orgasms, overstimulation, squirting, Master, begging, oral, biting, reference to omegaverse but this is not.

@icy-spicy @standfucker @thecaptainsdeck @zoros-sheath here’s the story I mentioned the other day 💕😎

You look at the small toy, clearly unimpressed. The series of beads get a little bigger as it progresses, but for one of Kid’s toys it’s really small.

“Don’t let how it looks now fool you, Mouse.” He says with a wicked grin. “It’s coated in latex but the stuff inside expands with heat, and body heat is enough to trigger it.”

“Expands by how much?”

“Not enough to do damage. I’ve tested it a lot, and then we did trial runs before now. But I can put this in that sweet little tight ass of yours now, and by dinner you’ll be gaping and ready.” He promises.

“If you say so.” You mutter, bending over the bench and putting your ass in the air. “And today I’ll just stay in here the whole time?”

“Yeah,” you can feel him pressing lube into your ass even with the toy’s small size. “Me and the guys have been through it, but I want to be sure with you before you spend a day with one of these in while you’re out and about.”

“Ever the cautious one.” You muse, humming as his finger pushes into your ass. “I do love that about you when it comes to your inventions.”

“You love all of me, Mouse.” He asserts, smacking your ass cheek and getting you to squeak and squirm a little.

“Fuck yeah I do.” You moan the words arching your back, knowing his face is flushed at the declaration.

Kid lubes up the toy too, and then starts to push it in. It always feels weird at first, and he works it in slowly. By the 3rd bead you’re holding onto the bench and melting into the sensation. It’s not just the toy - Kid knows what the fuck he’s doing.

“This is the fourth one, three more to go.” He informs and teases you at the same time, the next slightly larger head pushing in easily.

“Fuuu-Hnnngh, ah. Shit. It’s not fair how good this feels.”

“Heh, you’re like one of those omegas in those comics you and Heat like. Thirsty little fuck no matter how or what hole is getting filled.”

“It’s just cause it’s you.” You pout.

“Oh?” Kid leans over you, pushing the toy to where you can feel the next bead stretching you a little more. “Want me to mark you when you cum then? Drive my teeth,” his words are hot against your back and you can feel him moving to the nape of your neck. “Nice and deep,” he pushes the next part in and you gasp. “Right here?”

“Fuck, fuck, Kid, dammit -.” You squirm but he has you well and pinned. “That spot, you’re, hitting!”

“Heh, man or woman, some people are just blessed to be sensitive in all the best places.” He huffs into your hair, toy seemingly laser targeted onto the spot that’s sending jolts through your body light electricity.

He reaches out with his free hand and grabs one of yours. You hold onto that hand with both of yours, legs and toes curling as he works the toy until you can feel the unavoidable rush of an orgasm building.

“Am I going to bite you, Mouse?” He questions, voice low and commanding.

“Yes, yes please!” You gasp the words, desperate to know how it feels.

“Gonna mark you as mine,” he growls. “Let you warm my cock while this toy expands in your ass. Keep you all to myself today, Mouse.”

“Yes! Yes! Fuck, Kid, I’m kuh-cumming!” You nearly scream the words, and as the pleasure tears through you the bright sting of Kid’s teeth piercing your skin rips pleasure and pain both to new heights. The pleasure wins out as he thrusts the last two beads into your ass.

Kid leans back as you melt into the afterglow. He smacks your ass and you moan, shifting sweetly beneath him.

“Nice work, if I do say so myself.” He muses, running his fingers over the bite mark on your neck. “Let’s get that cleaned and bandaged, then you can sit in my lap while I work.”

“Keepin’ yer cock warm?” You mumble, as Kid helps steady you on your feet.

“Heh, fuck yeah. If you’re good and patient I’ll reward you.” He promises, leaning down and giving you a greedy kiss. “Make you cum so much you’ll work that behemoth out of your ass all on your own.”

Kid gets the much deeper than he’d usually do bite mark cleaned and bandaged, and then gets settled at his work bench. You settle into his lap, facing him, and begin to work his thick cock into your wet cunt.

“Fuck,” you hiss as the girth makes you more aware of the slowly expanding toy in your ass. The shared intrusion has you shivering, panting into Kid’s chest and your legs trembling as you try to work yourself into a comfortable position.

“Sounds like you’re gonna cum.” Kid teases.

“C-Can I?” You gasp, looking up at him. Your face is flushed, and you’re desperate for relief, so full like this, you know how you must look. “Full, I’m so full, I just… need a little bit.” The words fall from your lips like sweet treats, and he swears he can taste them on his tongue.

“No.” He says finally, tearing his gaze away from your face and turning toward the work bench. “Stay still, Mouse.”

The commanding tone is enough to make you clench and you gasp as you hold onto him. Sometimes you would argue, sometimes you would play at being a brat and relish in him putting you in your place, but you were so full. The bite on your neck felt like fingers slipping gently down your back, cowing you and turning you on.

You wanted to melt at his command today.

“Yessir.” You mutter it softly because you barely trust your own voice.

“Listen to you,” he purrs the words, hands already busy with work on the bench. “Try a better word, slut.”

The way he says the word so evenly. There’s no love or disdain on the word, it’s just a statement of what you are. Something about it licks against your cunt like it was his tongue.

“Yes, Master.” You say the words clearly, hands on his sides, keeping yourself steady and still with his pulsing cock inside your pussy, and the expanding toy in your ass. You could feel the soft shift of it, the way the lube would move like cum inside you every time it shifted.

“That’s better little whore.” You can almost hear the grin in his tone, even with how he’s focused on the work between his palms. The degrading word presses against your skin like it was his tongue.

He works in silence for a few minutes, and you try not to feel every single thing.

You swear his heart beat is in his shaft, thumping against your shivering walls. You can feel each fiber of his pants against your thighs, and the coarse tickle of his pubes trying to caress your clit. He moves a little while he works, shifting the world around you only the smallest bit, but it feels like such a large movement.

He smacks your ass with his flesh hand without warning and the surprised sound that parts your lips turns into something truly whorish once it passes your teeth. The impact and your own surprise nearly lifts you off his girth.

“Get your fucking cunt back where it belongs,” he growls and you sink back down. Despite the growing size of the toy in your ass, you’re so wet you sink even lower onto him, your throbbing cunt nestling into his pubic hair.

You lean back a little to keep it from bothering you, and Kid puts a hand on your back, pressing you into his chest and pushing you down a little further.

“Haannngh!” You groan in pleasure, on the edge of an orgasm you’re about ready to start begging for, but it’s only been a few minutes and you know the answer.

“Don’t lean back,” there’s less dom in his voice and more regular Kid. “I don’t want to solder your hair on accident.”

“Kay, okay,” you gasp, shivering against him.

“Gonna cum so soon?” He teases, the edge back in his voice. It sits against your throat and you almost want to ask him to bite you again. “Gonna start calling you Dumpster instead of Mouse.”

“Fah-fuck you,” you gasp. Okay, maybe you couldn’t let go of that bratty streak entirely.

You hear him push back whatever he’s working on before he grabs your hair and leans you back. His cock is still buried inside you, and you swear you can feel your stomach stretch against the new angle.

“What was that, little pet?” He questions, a toothy grin on his face as he looms over you. He looks like a wolf, teeth bared and a glint in his eyes. If he had claws you imagine you’d feel one trailing down your stomach right now.

“I’m… I’m not a cum dumpster.” You try to assert.

“That’s not what you said, slut.” He growls, tugging your hair and making you gasp. He leans down enough to lick a heavy stripe against your clavicle, stopping before he comes around to the bite he left earlier.

“Say.” He licks up the side of your neck. “It.” His teeth tease the soft lobe of your ear. “Again.” He sucks the soft flesh into his mouth, biting on your earlobe and sucking hard enough to bruise it a little.

“Fuck you!” You cry out, the sting of the harsh hickey on your ear making you answer him more loudly than you meant.

“Mmm,” he breathes the sound into your neck. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

You feel him shift, and hear his belt being pulled loose. “K-Kid, wait, I mean, Master, I didn’t-.”

“Color, Mouse.”

“G-green, I think. Green.” You stammer hastily and Kid kisses you. The soft rush from the contact makes your heart skip and then helps settle your nerves.

He reaches past you with the belt, hooking it to something before having you raise your hands over your head. Looping the belt around them, he makes it snug, but you can free yourself if you need to, and has you hold onto the strap.

The position has you arched and exposed beneath him. Toy in your ass, his cock in your shivering pussy, your shoulder just barely making it to the edge of the bench, and your arms above your head. It leaves your breasts exposed, and keeps your clit from rubbing into his body.

“Hold onto that belt nice and tight,” he commands, roughly palming your breasts. “And I won’t use it on you, bratty little shit.”

You gasp from the pleasure of his hands, one hot and rough, the other smooth and ice cold, against your tits. The sensation causes you to squirm and Kid grabs your hips, holding you still.

“Cum without permission and I’ll use it on your cunt, got it whore?” He growls, and you nod your head. “Say it.”

“If I leggo, you’ll punish me, and if I kuh-cum without permission you’ll,” you whimper, enticed by the idea and afraid of it at the same time. “Use your belt on my cunt.”

“Good girl,” he hums, leering down at you and taking in everything with his sharp golden gaze. “Now, what to do. You couldn’t leave me alone to work, so I’ll have to pass the time a different way.”

You do your best to stay still with him looking at you like that. You can feel the heat rolling through you, on display like this, that darkness dripping from his tone. Kid was always a little rough, always moved you how he wanted, always satisfied you deeply no matter what he did, but sometimes he’d get a little extra mean.

Sometimes you knew before the session started, and sometimes he’d just push and push until you started to crack a little.

A metal candle holder, complete with candle, moves easily into Kid’s hand. A couple snaps of his metal fingers and the candle lights. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t promise anything. He just stays there, watching the flame slowly melt the wax.

You know what’s coming.

“Please,” you gasp, and Kid’s eyes slip from the small flame of the candle down to you.

“Oh right,” he says sarcastically. “I can’t punish you, if you don’t cum without permission.” He holds the candle in his metal hand and puts his right hand on your stomach. “Fuck, I really can feel it.” He hums, rubbing the taut part of your stomach. It wasn’t an obvious bulge from what you could see, but the lack of squish in your stomach was obvious.

“Not a bad angle.” He hums, shifting his hand just enough to press his thumb into your clit. “You’re not gonna get permission.” He warns, his thumb pressing and rolling against your clit.

“Oh gods, fuck no, no, no, Kid—AH!” You gasp and hiss in a breath as a hot splash of wax licks your stomach, biting roughly before it cools.

“It’s Master, you fucking slut, get it right.” He grumbles.

“Master, master, please…” You gasp, fingers gripping the belt so you don’t let go.

“Now, the faster you give in, the less wax there’s gonna be.” He explains, rolling the candle lazily in his hand. “Don’t worry, I’ll start fucking you before there’s too much.”

“Please, please, please let me cum,” you sputter, the pleasure was already tight in your stomach and it wasn’t going to take much more.

“Oh you’re gonna cum, Mouse.” He promises you. “But you’re not gonna get permission.”

“Ki-Master! Master please!” You beg, squirming beneath him. You were too stretched out to move much, and what little movement you could do did nothing except expedite the growing need in your gut. “Fuck, fuck, please, Master, please, I’m gonna, I’m gonna,” You gasp the words.

“No,” Kid rolls his hips, thrusting into you lovingly.

“Fuuuu-Nnnnnnnngh!” Your entire body tenses, the orgasm pulling your stretched form even more taut as your pussy throbs against his cock. The toy in your ass expands as you clench against it, and it almost feels like you orgasm in the middle of your orgasm.

Just as you pass the peak, body still tense as the pleasure abates slightly, the hot splash of wax on your chest dribbles right over your nipple. Screaming you curl from the harsh sting that bites deeper so close on the heels to your orgasm. The action causes you to fuck Kid and the sweet pleasure of his cock burying into you and against the toy eases some of the pain of the wax.

“Holy… fuck!” You gasp the words, gulping in big lungfuls of air. The contradicting sensations have you a mess, sweat already dappling your skin, sliding coolly down your back.

Kid drips single drops onto your stomach randomly as you come down from your high. His eyes are glued to each little twitch and jerk as the single drops land.

“Shit, fuck,” you hiss and swear, squirming beneath him. You’re trapped, no movement you make will set you free and every jerk and wiggle just makes your stomach tighten, the pleasure skittering through your limbs on the heels of the hot sting from the small drops of wax.

Kid starts to roll his hips into you, and you whimper. The pleasure is going to boil over and if he’s helping it means there’s a good bit of wax still left.

“Please, please,” you nearly sob the words. You don’t know if you want to cum, or just want him to pour the wax at this point. “Fuck I can feel it expanding in my ass,” you whine, squirming and pushing back into him as he thrusts lazily into you.

“Cum,” the word claws out of your mouth in desperation. “Gonna cum!”

“Don’t you dare, whore.” He commands, even as he teases your clit and bullies your cunt. “There’s so much wax- oh, there you go.” He purrs the words as your body tenses in silence. Your legs go rigid against his sides, your toes flexing as you hold onto his belt white-knuckled.

He doesn’t wait for you to come down this time, cutting a line of wax against your lower hips and stomach. The harsh line seems to want to hit your clit but he doesn’t go that far down. You suck in a gasp of air, pussy grinding into him as the sting from the wax makes your hips shake to try and throw off the already cooling substance.

“Yuh-yellow,” your word is airy and tired, fingers shivering and flexing against the belt. Kid sets the candle aside and has you let go of the loops of belt.

Cradling you in his big metal hand, the cool metal feeling wonderful against your hot skin. You catch your breath for a moment and Kid gives you a little water.

“How’s your ass?”

“If this thing vibrated I’d be passed out by now.” You admit with a soft smile. “But it’s not uncomfortable. It’s expanding very slowly, despite all the heat and such.”

“Afraid of it coming out?”

You shake your head. “Nah, but, uh…” your face flushes hot despite the moment of reprieve. “I’d rather… you.”

“Me?” Kid prompts, squeezing your cheeks between his fingers and thumb and making you look at him. “Say it clearly, Mouse.”

“I-.”

“Look into my eyes you shameless little slut.” He commands and you feel the embarrassment rush you again. “You’re my whore, I know you want to beg me like the dirty fuck you are.”

You bring your gaze to his and your cunt throbs against his cock from the look on his face alone. The devilish grin on his lips lets you know he could feel it.

He leans down, keeping your gaze trapped. “Call me Captain when you beg, Mouse.”

The breath you breathe in shivers at the command.

“Please, uh…” you swallow thickly, bracing against him and slowly riding him as best you can in this position. “Fuh-fuck me in the ass, Captain, please. Take, take this toy out and fill me with your cum, please, Captain, please.”

“Need me that bad?” He muses and you nod.

“Fuck me up Kid, I’m begging like a good Mouse.” You nearly demand it, hands on his face. He lets you pull him into a kiss as his hand overs down to your breasts, the rough grip peeling cooled wax away carelessly. You whine and squirm into the kiss, but you don’t break it.

“Everything for you, Mouse.” He says, breaking the kiss and lifting you off his lap.

You moan at the feeling of his cock leaving you empty and wanting. Turning you over he puts you face down on the work bench. You grab onto the belt just to have something to hold onto, and Kid’s hands are on your cheeks, squeezing them until you kick and squirm from the sensation.

“Fuck… every squeak you make is perfect.” He husks before putting his metal hand against your back again. It’s not as cold as it had been earlier, warmed by the heat of your skin, but it’s still colder than you and it feels good.

He grabs the base of the toy in your ass and starts to pull it free. The first bead is the largest, and you gasp as it stretches the tight ring of muscles of your sphincter. You do what you can to help ease it out, having learned from Kid that you could push and your body would do what it could.

The sensation as it pops free as has you squirming beneath his hand. He pushes it back against your entrance, as though he means to push it back in, and you moan so deeply it’s almost a growl as the beads rub your insides.

He pulls the second one out and does push it back in and your back arches against his metal hand as you gasp in pleasure and surprise. He pulls it out and then keeps pulling, slowly but steadily freeing each bead as you moan and wriggle, trapped between his hand and the workbench.

“Fuck! I need to fill you up.” He growls, tossing the toy aside and standing up behind you. “You’re gaping and soaked in lube, I’m just gonna-.” The head of his cock is pressed into your ass and slips in so easily you nearly cum from the intrusion.

“Fuck!” You both swear, his hands on your ass cheeks again, spreading them apart as he sinks in deeper and deeper.

“Gods, fucking, seas, I’m gonna cum!” You cry out as his fingers knead the meat of your ass cheeks. Kid doesn’t sink any deeper, instead grinding the point he’s at. “Not, not there, shit shit I’m gonna-fuck!-hnnngh!”

You release your hold on the belt, beating your fists into the table as you cum hard against his cock. You can feel the slick drip down your thighs without him in your pussy, the sensitive walls fluttering against nothing as your ass spasmed against the rock hard beast buried in it.

“I love the way you cum,” Kid hums, pushing in deeper even as you’re still shivering from the orgasm. “The way your whole body feels it. The fucking sounds you make,” his voice is getting husky as he presses his hips flush into your ass cheeks. Hands by your shoulders, looming over you, watching you tremble beneath him.

The sweet mewl he pulls from your lips as he licks up your spine between your shoulder blades nearly makes him cum.

He shifts, using his legs to force yours wide. Gasping you grab back onto the belt as the new position has you braced against his legs more than the table. You aren’t surprised when the bulb of the wand vibrator nestles against your clit.

“Oh gods, oh gods, Kid, Kid - wait, wait - I…” you whine but your body betrays as your hips wiggle into the toy.

“Color,” he commands and you nearly sob.

“Yellow, green - fuck don’t stop! Please, please it’s gonna take me out.” You whine. “I’m gonna scream, I swear!”

“I’ll turn it on when I cum.” Kid says, thrusting into your ass until there’s loud wet smacks from the excess lube on your skin. It’s not even a minute and he throws the vibrator on, pushing in deep as the vibrations rock your clit and he empties his balls into your ass.

He fucks you through his orgasm and pushes you over the edge in the process. Kid growls a swear between his teeth as he overstimulates himself with your body, and you scream a mix of swears and his name as you squirt your orgasm onto the workshop floor. His metal hand is braced on the table in front of you and you hold onto it for dear life as your body shudders uncontrollably with euphoric pleasure.

“Fuck,” Kid growls again, dropping the wand and thrusting into you roughly until you can feel him twitching and unloading into your ass a second time. “Shit,” he huffs, sweat dripping from his brow onto your back. “Fuck I haven’t cum back to back like that, in a fucking hot minute.”

Leaning down, he kisses down your back as he slowly pulls out of your ass. You mewl and gasp softly, shivering against the pleasure and strange sensation of his exit.

“Good job, Mouse.” He hums as he pulls out completely.

Rolling you onto your back he leans down and kisses you. You’re both a sweaty mess, hair clinging to skin, sex and exhaustion heavy in the air, skin salty from everything. He’s kissing trail down your jaw to your neck, and he leans back enough to start peeling the errand bits of left over wax still on your skin.

His fingers carefully flake away the hard and cooled wax as he licks and suckles your nipples gently. The soft pleasures almost make you giggle as you sigh happily.

“I’m sweaty,” you hum and he makes a soft knowing sound, still kissing and licking your skin.

His eyes meet yours as his kisses descend lower. You bite your lower lip, and shift in anticipation. He brushes away the wax along your lower abs and hips with his hands as his tongue presses heavy against your throbbing clit.

“Fuck, Kid - Captain, if I cum again you’ll have to carry me.” You sigh, your hips pressing into his mouth greedily.

“It’s my birthday, Mouse.” He hums into your mound. “I’m going to carry you out of here, wash you, and fuck your pretty clean pussy all over again.”

You whimper, but you can feel the orgasm building again. Deciding not to fight it, or him, you put your hands in his hair and listen to him moan against your clit. He licks long heavy strips against your folds and clit, working you up slowly and inevitably. Lifting your legs with his hands, he spreads and bends them back enough to plunge his tongue into your vagina, his pointed nose pressing into your clit.

“Wait, Kid, I think, I think I’mma squah!” The word breaks from a rush of pleasure, and you need a second to try again. “Squirt again, if you do that I’ll -!” The focused look on his face makes you clench against his tongue and the heat rush through you. “I can’t, I can’t - it’s like peeing on you, and I can’t,” you gasp as Kid leans back.

“I’d drink that too,” he answers easily, lifting one of your legs up into the air and slapping your soaking clit. The slap sounds louder than the impact feels, but the strike still has enough force behind it to send a powerful jolt through you. You nearly came from it, gasping in a heavy breath and scrambling to know how he managed to ride the line like that.

“Mm, one day I’m going to spank your cunt until you cum from it.” He muses, hands on your ass cheeks again as he uses that grip to pin your pussy between his hands and mouth.

Your shoulders are still barely on the work bench, and from this angle you can’t see what he’s doing, you can only feel it. Your legs and arms flail for a few seconds until your body realizes it’s not going anywhere no matter how to squirm, and the relentless pleasure from his mouth between your thighs left you little recourse except to lay there and take it.

Breathy swears babbled from your lips like a soft and delirious prayer, your body slow growing more and more tense as the pleasure you couldn’t escape coiled tighter and tighter. Your toes curled as the inevitable began to crest, your chest rose as your back arched from the tension building in your muscles.

Your babbled prayer became a panting rush of almost fearful whimpers, the slow build reaching a height you had expected to already peak. The same grip that kept you from getting away, also held you steady even as your curled body began to tremble. The tears that pooled in your eyes spilled over as the tension snapped.

Gushing against Kid’s face you can barely hear the splatter against the floor this time. You can feel him swallowing even as his lips kept bullying your clit. Spots dance over your vision and your hands smack on the table as your heels drive bruises into his shoulders. You can’t control any of the movements, and when you heave in a breath the only sound that escapes you almost sound angry, more war cry than moan of pleasure, but it helps ease some of the tension in your muscles.

Stiff arms and a curled back collapse into the workbench reaching out for Kid with sobs on your lips as his continued licking is hurdling you into overstimulation. His tongue teases toward your ass before he stops short and licks one last heavy slurp all the way up your slit.

“Fuck, you’re delicious.” He says it like he’d just devoured a full course meal. Kid moves you so you’re laying out as comfortably as possible on the workbench for a moment while you catch your breath. Your hazy gaze is full of love and bliss and if he could stop any moment, it would always be this one.

“That’s my girl,” he hums softly, never really sure if you hear him or not, kissing your forehead, and caressing your face.

When you have your senses gathered enough you reach out for him, and he scoops you into his arms easily, cradling you against his chest and letting you rest your head on his shoulder.

“Happy birthday, cap’n.” You mutter lovingly, snuggling into the mountain of warmth that held you just a little bit closer.

[po3tbbygirl]

We’ve built a home

Spencer Reid x fem!reader (oneshot)

desc: In a place that never felt like home, reader’s grown tired of explaining herself—until someone finally listens.

content warnings: pre-established relationship, emotional distress, crying, cultural differences.

a/n: your girlie is OUT of her home country and you can tell 😖😖 I lowk cried a lot writing this…

Italicization = foreign/your language

She hated Virginia.

She hated how far she had to drive just to get to work, wishing she could go back to the days when her commute was a simple 15-minute bus ride.

She hated how every craving for her favorite foods came with the bitter truth that she’d have to make them herself. No restaurant around here could even come close to capturing the flavors of her culture.

She hated how much of herself she had to explain to people. Why she talked the way she did. Why she did certain things that felt so natural to her but seemed strange here. She was always defending or translating her life, just to avoid being misunderstood as weird, rude, or too nice.

Her days felt heavy, and even her dream job wasn’t enough to make up for how lonely and out of place she felt. Virginia wasn’t home. It never would be. But then Spencer came along.

He was lanky, with messy brown hair and a quiet awkwardness that made her smile despite herself. At first, he was just someone she met by chance. But over time, he became the one thing that made everything easier. Brighter. Lighter.

Of course, she still had to explain some things to him—he didn’t know her culture at first. But it was different with Spencer.

When she told him she needed lime with almost every meal, he didn’t question her. Instead, he made sure their kitchen was always stocked with it. Sometimes he’d even bring home extra, just to be safe.

When after playing chess or watching movies they’d accidentally pass the 3 a.m. mark and she just had to stay up until 4 a.m. for no real reason other than luck, he stayed up with her. No complaints. No judgment.

When Christmas came, and she explained how her family celebrated—eating pork, drinking fruit punch, praying together, singing songs, and breaking piñatas—he didn’t hesitate to join in. He did everything he could to honor her traditions, even when they were completely new to him.

And when she cried while setting up the ofrendas for her loved ones who had passed, Spencer didn’t try to fix it. He simply sat beside her, holding her hand and letting her cry, showing her she wasn’t alone.

Spencer wasn’t just good to her. He was perfect for her. He made her feel understood in a way she hadn’t thought was possible.

But there were still some things even Spencer couldn’t fix—or so she thought.

౨ৎ

“Ugh,” she groaned as she walked through the door, tossing her keys into the bowl by the door.

Spencer looked up from the couch, where he’d been reading a book. He frowned, setting it aside. “Hey… what’s wrong?”

She sighed, staying silent as she kicked off her shoes and leaned against the wall. Her face looked tense, like she was fighting back tears.

“I’m just tired,” she finally said, her voice strained.

Spencer straightened, concern etched across his face. “Tell me.”

“You wouldn’t get it.”

“Try me.”

She hesitated, standing frozen in the middle of the kitchen. She looked up, a single tear slipping down her cheek.

“I’m tired of explaining myself,” she said, her voice trembling. “I’m tired of people staring at my food at lunch. I’m tired of explaining why I talk the way I do, why I act the way I do.” She paused, her tears falling faster now. “And I’m especially tired of people thinking I’m dumb or slow just because I need a second to find the right word. They don’t realize I’m not thinking in the language they are speaking. I’m not stupid—I just need time. But no one seems to get that, and I’m so tired of it!”

Her voice cracked as she let out a sob, her body shaking with all the emotions she had kept bottled up for so long. “I can’t take it anymore. It’s driving me crazy!”

“Love…” Spencer’s voice was soft, steady.

She froze. The sound of his voice saying that one word in her language stopped her in her tracks.

He stood from the couch, walking toward her. Her tears slowed as she watched him approach, her shock keeping her in place.

“I know it’s hard,” Spencer said, his hands gently taking hers. “I know you hurt. And it kills me to see you like this. Every time you have to explain yourself to some ignorant person who will just shut you down, who doesn’t deserve to understand you, I become the saddest man alive.”

She stared at him, the warmth of his hands grounding her as her tears continued to fall.

“I’ve been waiting for the right time to tell you this,” he said, dropping down onto both knees in front of her. “I know we have only been dating for a little over a year and know this isn’t a proposal because you deserve so much more than me kneeling in the living room in my ugly pajamas,”

Her breath hitched as she watched him, her heart pounding in her chest.

“But I promise you—no, I swear to you—that as long as you’ll have me, you’ll never have to explain yourself again. Not to me. You won’t have to feel like you need to translate your heart or your soul to me because I’ll keep learning. I’ll keep trying. All I need from you, my love, is to be you. The raw, beautiful, unfiltered version of you. And I’m ready for that. I’m ready for you.”

Her jaw dropped, and for a moment, she couldn’t move. No one had ever made this much effort for her before. No one had ever tried to understand her this deeply.

Without thinking, she knelt down in front of him, cupping his face in her hands. “I’m so sorry this isn’t a proposal, Spencer,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Because after what you just said… I don’t think I can do anything but want to marry you.”

They both laughed through their tears, and Spencer playfully shifted onto one knee. They stayed like that for a long moment, staring into each other’s eyes.

Finally, Spencer spoke, his tone serious. “I mean it, love. From now on, if you don’t ever want to speak a word of English to me again, you don’t have to. I’m ready for that part of you. You don’t have to hide it anymore.”

Her tears flowed freely again, but this time, they were tears of joy. Relief. Love. “Spencer… thank you,” she whispered. “I love you.”

He smiled, his eyes shining. “I love you.”

[gotta-winwin]

𓆩🖤𓆪 ... falling in love through songs pt.1 - teaser

⭐ starring: vernon

💬 preview: you really wished someone would've told you that the rockstar you'd be photographing for on his tour was Hansol from school. Yes, that Hansol. Your ex-boyfriend Hansol.

tw/cw: rockstar!vernon x photographer!reader, second chance romance, exes to lovers, sworn enemies to lovers, forced proximity, a cheeky joshua, lots of banter full tw will be posted with the full fic

🪽fic rating/teaser rating: pg/16+

🪽tentative release date: jan 20

☁️ masterlist & a/n: here i am once again with a vernon fic, but this time to kick off our 500 followers event! this one is based on the song heart out by the 1975, one especially close to my own heart.

this is a part of my 500 followers event

“Hear me out.” Joshua spread his arms as if to hug the air in front of him. “The two of us, on tour, in a tour bus, a fat paycheck.” 

You pursued your lips, biting back a smile. His proposition had sounded tempting even over the phone, where he had offered you a photography job on the tour he was managing, a spot on the bus and front row seats to every show. 

“It’ll be fun!” He continued, driving the nail in further. “The guy I manage- he’s a chill dude, great rockstar. You’d get along great.” 

“What did you say his name was again?” You asked, looking over the contract he had given you one more time. 

“Vernon.” Joshua nudged your arm, pushing you to sign. “C’mon. It’ll be like the old days again, bandwagoning across the country in the name of making art.” He placed the last words in air quotations as he smiled. “And the paycheck doesn’t hurt.”

“Not at all.” It was a ridiculous amount of money. “When do we start?”

Clapping his hands, Joshua looked joyous to have you along. “First concert’s tomorrow, right here in New York. It starts at 8, but come earlier so you can meet the band first. I’ll introduce you to Vernon- oh, he’s going to be so psyched to see you.” 

As much as you loved his enthusiasm, the jitters of having such a high profile job was catching up to you, once again reminding you just how high the stakes were. You needed this job, for the money, for the recognition it’d give you - you needed it all. 

Flashing Joshua a bright smile, you nodded, looking more confident than you felt. “Great. I’ll go home, pack my things, and I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“Alright, sunshine.” Joshua chuckled as you struggled to put your coat back on, your childhood nickname rolling off his tongue like second nature. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“This was not the fucking deal, Josh.” 

You couldn’t believe your eyes as you stared, open-mouthed at the boy in front of you, decked out in silver chains, ripped jeans and sporting a backwards baseball cap. He all but screamed rockstar, yet you keep circling back to the fact that-

“Hansol?” 

-the fact that you knew him. Very well, in fact.

“Y/N?” 

He seemed just as astonished to see you, eyes darting suspiciously towards Joshua. “This, is my tour photographer?” 

“This?” You cried out indignantly, turning to Joshua as well. “Did it just not cross your mind to mention that your rockstar happened to be Hansol from school?” 

“Well-” Joshua put his hands up in defence, the large grin on his face betraying how much he was enjoying the moment. “Surprise?” 

“Joshua!” Both you and Vernon yelled out, anger escaping as the two of you contemplated whether or not throttling Joshua would be worth the consequences.

“I am not staying on a tour bus with her.” Vernon pointed an accusatory finger your way. “Especially not for four months. I’d rather throw myself off a cliff.” 

“I’d rather chop off my own finger and eat it.” You hissed back, equally disgusted at the idea of sharing your space with him. 

“Contract’s signed.” Joshua shrugged, his eyes dancing with mirth as he watched the two of you glare daggers at one another. “Jeez. It’s like the air in here could kill or something.”

“I do not want to breathe the same air as him.” You stabbed a finger at Vernon.

“I hope you choke on it and die.” He punctuated the last word with fervor. 

“Ditto.” 

Joshua let out a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m starting to regret this. Were you guys always this...stabby?” 

“Yes.” Chan poked his head out from the green room. “Ever since they broke up they’ve been literal bitches. Whatever happened to hey, Chan, we’ll still be friends! This won’t break the friend group apart!” He frowned, disapprovement evident on his face. Time still hadn’t erased the betrayal he had felt when the two of you broke up, killing their friend group with suffocating silence. 

“Whatever.” Vernon muttered, turning away, shoving his in-ears back into his ears. “Stay away from me.” 

“With the utmost pleasure.” 

[growth-opportunities]

A woman tried taking pills to grow her breasts just a small and reasonable amount, but immediately became hopelessly addicted.

Okay, so, you know how some people have not-so-great coping mechanisms? I mean, we all know that smoking is bad for us, and yet some people, not me, but some people need a cigarette or two to make it through a bad day and another to relax after making it through. And then you have the barflies who stop for a few beers every day after work "just to relax" and then we let those guys drive home! All I'm saying is that everyone has different ways of coping with stress, so I really don't need judgement just because my vice of choice is growth pills.

In my defense, they were advertised as temporary! One pill was supposed to grant three cup sizes for a few hours and then they'd go back down again. If Bobby Barstool can get drunk for a few hours and then go about his life, then why can't I have a few hours of fun for myself? The first time I did it, I only took one. And god it felt good. I forgot to take my bra off (I guess I really didn't think that they would work) and so watching my tits grow and bulge out of them was... fuck. Words fail me, is the point. The eroticism of that alone was intense but the increased sensitivity really sold me on it. I barely noticed the time passing, very nearly getting used to them at that size before they shrank away, leaving me with my modest but respectable C cups.

And it went like that for a while. Got home from work, shed my work clothes, popped a pill, blissed out for a few hours, and then made dinner. Occasionally, I'd take one before a night out on the town, but their sensitivity made it a lot more tempting just to stay home and play with them. It was a simple routine.

But, y'know, it's one of those slippery slope things. I had one really, really bad day, so I said fuck it and I took two pills instead of one. J cups, man. Instant J cups. And from there it was easy to go up to three pills, then four pills. It was incredible. They lasted a little bit longer when I took more of them, but it was safe, reliable, and the pleasure was only slightly addicting.

Well, maybe not entirely safe.

So, it would seem that I didn't always go back to my normal size when the pills wore off. Not completely. I wound up being a little bit bigger. Taking one pill at a time, the effect was barely noticeable, easily chalked up to a bit of swelling. But the longer it went on and the more pills I took, the more obvious it became. The crazy thing was that, even though I was actively, legitimately growing, not just temporarily, they still felt small! Coming down from a P cup to a D cup was still a big drop and so it was hard to gauge just how fast I was growing. And I tried to stop or just slow down, but, fuck, sometimes you just gotta take the edge off by turning yourself into a fat-titted cow, drooling over your own cleavage while you pinch your nipples and moan like a whore. And even though I told myself that it was only a little bit of growth here or there, given enough time, it starts to add up. And the bigger I got, the less difference three cup sizes made, so I had to keep taking more which just made me grow faster and it fed on itself until, well, I don't even think there are cup sizes when you're this big.

Oh, gosh, sorry, I get a little rambly. I know you've probably got to take other calls. Anyway, all of that is to say are you sure your company can't make me a compression bra for a bust measurement over 100 inches? ...Hello?

[scoops-aboy86]

wc: 647 | Rating: T | CW: mentions of infidelity, technically hurt no comfort because I haven’t written the part where they make up | Additional Tags: future fic, famous Eddie Munson, past Steddie

Okay, look. The tv was on in the background, and Ross and Rachel were breaking up, and this happened in my head. I’m posting it for Fuck It Friday because fuck it. The only thing getting me through life right now is cough drops.

part 2

Hell of a Time at the Wake

“Yeah, haven’t had a drink or touched any drugs in five years, as of last month.”

“Oh wow, so that’s from before Corroded Coffin made it big.” The interviewer chuckles. “Usually it’s the fame and rehab that come first.”

“I prefer to think of myself more as regionally notorious, but sure. Never did the rehab thing, though.”

“Well, what’s the story there?”

Behind their frontman, the rest of the band shares a look. “Oh, we don't need to—” 

“Nah, Jeff, it’s okay man.” Eddie waves them off, then turns back to the interviewer. “Back before we hit the road to make a name for ourselves, I was seeing someone back home. I mean, the someone. The one. But we kept having this same… not really a fight, just this thing: I wanted to leave town, they didn’t. And then finally we had this huge blowout about it that started as something else and somehow turned into that again, which turned into both of us storming off. They went home, and I went out and got completely shitfaced, and in the morning I woke up with someone whose name I didn’t even know in bed with me.”

The interviewer winces. 

“Yeah. And when you do something shitty like that, it’s going to come out sooner or later. Or pretty much immediately, in this case, which.” Eddie grimaces and shrugs. “Well, it gave us something else to fight about, that’s for sure. I knew I’d fucked up bad, but it took hours of back and forth before I realized that we were done done. Trust completely obliterated, no way to come back or move on from that, just… over.”

There’s a pause where he stares off into space for a moment, stuck on a memory. Then he shakes himself and refocuses. 

“Anyway, at some point during my doomed attempt to salvage things, I swore I’d never have another drink ever again. Which, the being drunk of it all wasn’t really the problem, so saying that didn’t buy me anything, but… even after it ended, I didn’t. I’d been so fucked up that night, and it wasn’t the booze so much as the fear of it being over that made me a one man self-fulfilling prophecy—but I hurt someone I loved more than anything, and I never wanted let myself get that fucking stupid again, so. I haven’t. And honestly, I sleep better knowing that.”

“Wow.” The interviewer is staring at him, stunned. Probably doesn’t get a lot of this sort of thing, not just because of all the wild rockstars and other celebrities that come on the show with stories about trashed hotel rooms and wild parties, but because Eddie is being honest. 

It’s not something he talks about… ever, really. Not even with the guys. But, after five years, it doesn’t hurt the same. It’s not even for St—

It’s not for his ex anymore, if it ever was. 

“Why would it be weird?” Gareth is saying. “We have a built in DD, that’s always great. And Eddie doesn’t give us shit for anything, he’s just honest when we ask if anything was too out of hand. It’s a good reality check.”

“And like,” Doug adds, “he’ll still come out with us to clubs and shit to hang out. But if he says he doesn’t want to drive us to a bar it’s not some passive aggressive or superiority thing because we drink and he doesn’t; he’d really just rather fuck off and do something else.”

“Gee, thanks,” Eddie says dryly, but he’s smirking. 

Doug flashes him finger guns, the fucking dork. “You’re welcome, asshole.”

And the interview moves on. These guys have been Eddie’s friends even longer than they’ve been his bandmates, and the four of them are solid. If the gossip vultures out there want something to pick at, they’ll have to find a different target. 

part 2

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@hotluncheddie @hiei-harringtonmunson @sofadofax @hickeysgodcomplex @oatmilk-vampire

@wheneverfeasible @hamiltonswiftie @grtwdsmwhr @yesdangerpls @theseaofdespair

And then someone shows Steve the interview and he asks Robin for Eddie’s number, and they talk for the first time in years and end up falling back in love, but that’s the hard to write part so this is what you get. Xoxo

[inseparabiles]

No please don't ever think I'll be annoyed by this. I love how similarly our minds work re: this concept and I'm just like. Lying here on the floor crying because wow. Comrades in excitement

I'm just. I'm also SO amused by the like. You put together Lucilla and Acacius, two idealistic politicians with a firm view of what they want for their country and their people, and they naturally breed rebellion. Take Macrinus out of the picture and let them actually go hog wild with the concept, and...... they end up parents of three actual adult men somehow naturally over the course of this whole thing??? I'm not even forcing this. At no point have I had to ask myself, so how can I break things so that this will make sense in the narrative. At no point has any character ever had to drop agenda or make choices against their established personalities or goals to make this happen.

Lucilla has NOT been happy about anything that's happened, but she is, at her heart, someone who is not cruel or vengeful. She's very righteous and just and those can be hard traits, but she's never stepped outside of the boundaries of necessity, even in her plans, and she's always led by conscience and heart first. She's really there to embody her father's ideals - to be the example of what a good ruler would be, if it wasn't for sexism and greed. Thanks, sexism. We could have had it all but no. But all of that means that she'll never make a choice out of pure cruelty or hatred, and will put up with a LOT of suffering and injustice for her own ends to benefit others.

And Acacius just. He's basically got all he's ever wanted right now, seating himself at the end of the one most central and influential strategic map table beside Lucilla to overhaul the functions of the Roman military to divert resources and manpower back where he thinks they belong (along with his friends), and he's the chillest he's ever been. Being chill has reduced his level of vengefulness back down to levels of "gods these two shits are annoying", with the modifier of "I don't have to defer to them for anything anymore" and the conclusion has more or less been "I'm in a near-absolute position of power over two young men who are desperately looking for a father figure, and I'm going to use this opportunity to tell them EXACTLY what I think about them, and there's nothing they can do about it." Putting Geta against the wall has proven to be extremely entertaining, because he takes the bait and argues back. Putting Caracalla against the wall is less entertaining, because the consequences are extremely predictable (he'll either try to bite or he'll try to hide, depending on the alignment of stars and time of day, and you can't really do anything with that. It's not intellectually stimulating lmfao).

But Acacius is so naturally a mentor, who by his career is a leader to young men - someone who feels responsible for his troops, their growth, their wellbeing, their safety, and their efficacy - that he's dug himself into a hole with Geta immediately just by the graces of allowing himself that banter. What they've ended up developing is a lot like, Geta's an inexperienced officer coming into the ranks with no merit but by blood, and he's not unwilling to learn, he's just arrogant and needs to be taken down a peg. And in that position, which to Acacius comes very naturally, he's just immediately finding him very easy to like for all the potential and challenge he provides. And Lucilla at the side like... I love you, but the boy you've chosen to start personally educating is the same kid who was driving us into extinction. Stupidity is not an excuse for blood on your hands. But, and I'm sorry because Acacius would never voluntarily admit this about Geta, the thing is that an inexperienced officer will always end up with blood on their hands. Being in a position to command armies but having no strategic or military education whatsoever makes that inevitable. Even the simplest bad choices get a LOT of people killed. And that's twisting his own sense of Geta's guilt there, which allows him to prioritise everything that's happened more as a matter of failed education and training than pure evil. And Geta's not giving him pure evil after being taken out of his position, he's giving him scared child.

AND UHHHH I WON'T SAY ANYTHING MUCH ABOUT Lucilla and Caracalla (we'll get there in another 50 000 words I think) but if it means something there's this bit waaay early on where Geta is reading Cara like a book, assuming either of them knows the alphabet anyway,

---

Caracalla looked at him, the way his head moved slow, his gaze too clear against the soft light of the lamp beside the bed.

“Do you think it’d be worth it?” he asked colourlessly, swaying.

Geta blinked at him. “Would what be worth what?”

“Doing what they want, for Lucilla’s approval.” Caracalla seemed to be talking to Geta’s ghost, someone who wasn’t really present in the room, or who had been, but hours ago. He tried to catch up again, but felt like he was playing chase with something that kept burrowing underground.

“Her word might be the only thing that keeps us alive,” Geta said slowly after the creature, who’d left him stranded like a stupid hunting dog on a field. “We should act accordingly, for now.”

“No,” Caracalla said, tilting his head the way one might chase off an irritating fly. “Really doing it. She might grow to like us. We asked her once, do you remember? To make us of her line. She might do it this way.”

“Are you -“ Geta began sharply, but in an instant his temper broke.

For some time, he only breathed, and breathed, and breathed, gaze empty against the sheets of the bed, the littering of letters and hands and limbs and pillows in front of him. Then, sighing out the last inhale, he let his shoulders down.

“She’s never going to love you,” he said dryly, “it doesn’t matter what we do to convince her. I will not bow to a traitor, and neither should you. She is not our mother. She’ll never be.”

Caracalla nodded, just as distant as his voice had been.

---

That's mean. :(

unhinged concept (I'm entering that stage): Lucilla actually does adopt Geta and Caracalla which ruins Acacius's life but also makes him their step-father and they finally get an actual father figure who teaches them how the fuck to hold swords and not be the worst people ever.

and we just cancel Macrinus entirely, which, I don't know what the hell happens to Lucius but that's someone else's unhinged concept to worry about.

And we put Caracalla on a leash because the boy cannot behave. That's no way to treat your mother

[voxina]

Jade Thirlwall was only 14 when she first presented herself for judgement. She put on her best leopard-print headband and bravely sang some of Whitney Houston’s ‘Where Do Broken Hearts Go’ in front of the X Factor panel. “You’re a funny little thing, aren’t you,” remarked an amused Simon Cowell, like a cat playing with its food. Louis Walsh then jumped in with: “Unusual!” In response, Thirlwall thanked them with an unwieldy grin. 

For this tiny singer, it would be a case of third time lucky. After being put through to boot camp twice, she auditioned again at the age of 18, now wearing leopard-print trousers. Judge Kelly Rowland told the naturally shy teenager she’d be good in a girl group, an idea that Thirlwall was completely unimpressed with. She was resolute about being a solo artist and an unusual one at that.  

Rowland, of Destiny’s Child fame, had correctly identified herself in Thirlwall. That season of the show, Thirlwall was placed in what would become the second biggest-selling UK girl group of all time, Little Mix. Their accolades could fill an infinite scrolling Wiki page. They were a well-oiled commercial pop machine amassing billions of streams with hits like ‘Black Magic’ and ‘Shout Out to My Ex’ while touring stadiums until they went on hiatus in 2022. “I didn’t see myself as a conventional girl’s girl. I was nerdy and quiet. When they told me I was gonna be put in a girl group, I automatically thought of Pussycat Dolls,” she laughs. “I thought, ‘Oh no, I’m not sexy — and if they’re bitchy, I’ll struggle because I’m not confrontational at all. I shrink at any drama.’ But it turned out to be the best thing to ever happen to me for my confidence and understanding of sisterhood.”

Tonight, I’m sharing wine with her at a table in Shoreditch House to discuss the fact that Thirlwall finally has what she wanted: she is the solo pop star she always dreamed of being. “I’m a bit of a dark horse,” the Rolling Stone UK Trailblazer Award winner tells me. “I’ll try anything once. I don’t see myself as a safe person creatively and I am a bit strange. All my life I’ve been told I’m weird.” Her bandmates and friends saw it, her boyfriend, Rizzle Kicks singer Jordan Stephens, saw it, Cowell clocked it after only minutes in her company, and now the rest of the world gets to see it.  

Outwardly, she didn’t seem like the biggest personality in the band, but behind the scenes, Thirlwall had been the creative driving force and business mind. For her solo project, that incisive playfulness is fully on display. From the horror-influenced visuals to the Drag Race inspiration, Thirlwall — whose solo artist name is JADE — is more aligned with Charli XCX than Little Mix. On the addictive lead single, ‘Angel of My Dreams’, she switches between a Y2K sound, hyperpop and a nostalgic girl band chorus gone wonky to tell a story about the dark side of the music industry, a theme that is repeated across her presently untitled debut album. It’s smart and entirely unexpected.  

In person, Thirlwall has the same excitable offbeat energy she had as a 14-year-old in her first audition. She’s like a conspiratorial friend primed for gossip exchange: she directs me to a clip that circulated from a Little Mix interview where fans thought she was on cocaine because she was pulling odd faces. “People don’t believe me even now,” she laughs, pausing to sip on her rosé. There were bad moments and dramas when she was in the group, of course, but she’s prepared for the same to happen in her solo career. “I’m never going to discredit what we achieved. I don’t have anything bad to say about it, so I wouldn’t stir anything up, just to look cool,” she laughs again. 

The group’s young fanbase has matured with its members. Thirlwall doesn’t see it as her responsibility to appease them or tell them what they should and shouldn’t do. “I’m 31 years old, I’m gonna write about stuff I experience, my merchandise will reflect that, you know what I mean?” One such recent merchandise bundle includes sex aids. The other day, while recording with Sugababes, she told them what’s included in the package and had to explain to Keisha Buchanan what a butt plug is, much to her amusement. This is an older and wiser Jade Thirlwall having even more fun.

Thirlwall grew up in a household of eclectic tastes in South Shields, a seaside town near Newcastle. Her mother was a Motown fan who looked like Diana Ross, while her dad listened to 80s power ballads and VH1 classics. Her big brother — who she aspired to be like as every younger sibling does — was deeply into the happy hardcore-clubland classics era of the 90s and 00s. It was a happy childhood, in part due to the fact that there’s a strong Yemeni community in South Shields (Thirlwall is half Arab: one-quarter Yemeni, one-quarter Egyptian). “I have a lot of memories of my grandad cooking curries or waiting for him outside the mosque,” she remembers. “I listened to his prayer and Arabic music, too.” It wasn’t until she went to a Catholic secondary school, where she felt alienated, that she began to struggle with racist remarks and her feelings of anxiety. She was bullied by other girls, hence her initial reservations about being in a girl band. 

While she was in Little Mix, she didn’t understand that she could have spoken out more about her race. “I’d only ever seen negative stereotypes of Arab people in the press, so I was scared to promote my heritage,” she says. “I feel sad for my younger self that I could’ve been the representation I needed back then. I try to make up for that now.” Thirlwall has been outspoken about issues close to her heart. Whether it was attending Black Lives Matter protests and pro-Palestine rallies or becoming an LGBTQ+ rights ambassador for the UK charity Stonewall, she stands out among many of her peers for her political verve. 

Each of the girls knew a year ahead that Little Mix were disbanding, so they individually spent that period preparing in the studio. “It took me a long time to figure out how to not write a Little Mix song because that’s all I’d done for a decade,” admits Thirlwall. Panicked about the idea of having so much stillness after the group, she made an abundance of music in a bid to find her sound as soon as possible. This became an advantage: so sure of what she wanted to do, Thirlwall was able to approach potential labels with a fully formed vision. After signing with RCA of Sony, they assured her she could take her time to release her solo music, which came as a surprise: in the pop world, two and a half years is a long time to disappear. “In hindsight, I was freaking out about existing without the group and thought I had to jump on the hype of us just disbanding. If I’d released then, I would’ve been anxious and have put so much pressure on myself to be as big as [Little Mix] was.”

[...]

If Thirlwall was in charge of the music industry, it’d look different. Sure, it’s improving for artists because social media means “you can’t get away with as much bad shit”, but there’s some way to go. When I ask her how she’d change it, she sits up in a businesslike manner and adopts an Elle Woods from Legally Blonde tone. Before she’ll answer that, she’ll take me back to the nagging feeling she had that something wasn’t right with Little Mix. The four girls were presented with different contracts and told who their team was, and she didn’t feel she had a choice. 

To all intents and purposes, Thirlwall and her fellow Little Mix band members were child stars. She agrees with this assessment. “I almost think you shouldn’t be allowed to be a star until you’re 18. I’m so glad I was turned away and didn’t get put in Little Mix until I was 18 — and even then, I feel like that was too young,” she says. 

Previous X Factor winner and South Shields born-and-bred Joe McElderry had warned Thirlwall of his negative experiences in the industry. “I remember him saying make sure your mum’s there when you’re doing all these important signings. But I was too young to understand what he meant, and I made the same mistakes as him.”  

It wasn’t until halfway into their career that the young women looked around and wondered who that person in the room being paid to be there was or why their peers and friends were making more money than them. Thirlwall and bandmate Leigh-Anne Pinnock helped to write the Little Mix music but weren’t signed into a publishing deal until 2019. Unfortunately, it was a “really shit deal” that they were stuck in but at least she was finally recognised as a songwriter, financially speaking. (For her solo career, she has not signed a publishing deal because she now finds it hard to trust the entire framework.)  

If she were queen of the industry, her first decree would be to introduce a comprehensive course that artists take as soon as they’re signed by a label (if not sooner), that teaches them what a label deal is, how royalties work and how they make their money. That would prevent the type of situation that Little Mix got into when they were first signed. “When you come from a working-class background, you get your advance and think you’ve made it, but you have to recoup everything back. You’re getting all these lavish cars and making them wait for ages, but you’re footing that bill eventually,” she laughs drily. She would also introduce the sort of mental health care she’s managed to negotiate as a solo artist with her new label: a substantial pot of money that she can use if she needs therapy. 

The topic of mental health brings the conversation round to Liam Payne, the One Direction member who tragically died in an accident while under the influence of drugs in October. He was Thirlwall’s peer — the only X Factor pop group to outperform Little Mix by any metric was One Direction, with the two groups frequently spoken about in the same breath — and was once her friend. They both had their first auditions during the same series, aged 14. The pair returned a second time: Liam went through to the finals and was placed into One Direction while Thirlwall was sent home. Payne was encouraging of Thirlwall and told her she had to keep trying X Factor. She was then put in a group on a later series. They fell out of touch over the years, but she was naturally upset to hear of the news for both him and for his family — their mothers are still friends.   

“When the news broke out, it did shake me up because we’d started the same, but we’d ended up on very different paths. We both wanted to make it so much and sometimes that is a blessing and a curse to get what you’ve dreamed of. It’s unbelievably tragic,” she says of Payne’s death.  

Just hours after it was reported that Payne had died, Thirlwall was due to start a heavy day of promo for her single ‘Fantasy’. She cancelled it as she didn’t feel like she was the right person to be fielding questions about his passing so soon after it happened. After all, she hadn’t been close to Payne over the past several years. “All I can speak of is who I knew he was when we were kids, and he was someone that wanted to make his family proud,” she reflects. “He wanted to be a singer more than anyone I knew.”

[Full article here]

[sad-girl-hours23]

This started as a writing exercise for "first lines" and I wrote this first line without any notion of a story: Buck stares at the wedding invitation he received in the mail for a Mr. Eric Williams and a Mr. Thomas Kinard, and says, “what the fuck.”

But then I thought to myself, why would Tommy send him an invite to his wedding and well, this idea was born. Pay no attention to the plot holes and general lack of logistics lol also I did not re-read this so know that going in.

TLDR: Post break-up, Tommy gets amnesia, loses the last 8 years of memories. Doesn’t tell anyone, fakes it with his boss & Lucy. Quits his job & moves to Pennsylvania. Changes his number. Gets a boring desk job and falls in love with the first man he meets. They eventually get engaged & Tommy, wanting to have familiar faces on his side of the aisle, invites Hen, Howie, Sal, Bobby, and Lucy. He doesn’t remember them, but he also sends invites to Eddie and Evan (whose information is in his address book)

Cut to Buck receiving a wedding invitation from Tommy 2 years after he broke up with Buck and never spoke to him again.

Buck/Tommy amnesia fic where Tommy goes out of town and he gets into an accident shortly after the breakup and forgets the last 8 years.

 His emergency contact is his captain who, to Tommy’s memory, he’s only met a handful of times since he remembers his transfer to Harbor being approved, but he doesn’t remember ever working there. He doesn’t remember why he was out of town, but something is telling him he needed to get away. The thought of trying to fit back into a life he doesn’t remember gives him anxiety, as does the thought of asking strangers to fill in the blanks. He doesn’t tell his chief or anybody about the amnesia. Maybe this can be the new start he craved.

When he gets back to LA, he quits his job and prepares to move. He finds a house to rent in Hershey, Pennsylvania of all places. He doesn’t know why, doesn’t ever remember wanting to go there, but it sticks in his brain. Maybe it’s his sweet tooth.

He wonders if there is anybody he should contact before he goes. His phone was lost in the accident, so he had no call history or text messages to go off of. All he had was an address book, with some names he recognized, Howie and Hen, and others he didn’t, an Eddie Diaz and an Evan Buckley. There’s an ache in his chest he can’t explain. Maybe it’s that the only phone calls he’s received in the last two weeks since his accident have been spam or from Lucy. He wishes he remembered her. She sounded skeptical when he skirted things he couldn’t remember, surprised but ultimately happy for him when he told her about the move. Told him not to be a stranger, but he knew he would be.

He gets to Pennsylvania and takes his time settling in. He gets a boring desk job. After a month, with no contact from anybody, he changes his number to one with a Pennsylvania area code. He still thinks about reaching out to Hen and Howie, but he chickens out every time. He does reach out to Sal and finds relief in finally being truthful about his amnesia. It feels like they pick up right where they left off and Tommy’s grateful for the friendship, even if Sal can’t tell him anything about his life (apparently they hadn’t kept in touch often).

Tommy can’t explain why he saves Evan Buckley’s information in his phone or the fluttering feeling in his chest he gets just looking at the name. It’s the same feeling he gets when he finds himself driving down a residential road and catches sight of a white house with green shutters. He can’t explain the way it feels like his mind is trying to retrieve memories that never come. He composes texts that he never sends, isn’t sure what he would even say. 

 He meets a man named Eric, who sweeps him off his feet. He’s just sweet enough that Tommy chooses to ignore the ways Eric can make him feel small and ashamed at being new to dating men. He is new to it as far as his memory is concerned, so he pushes the feeling down. 

He toys with the idea of getting recertified to become a firefighter again, but Eric won’t hear of it and Tommy doesn’t want to lose him, wants the life and marriage that Eric’s talked about. Even if deep down, it feels like there is somebody else out there for him. 

Tommy & Eric get engaged and Tommy leaves all the planning to his fiancee. The only thing Tommy doesn’t want is separate sides for friends and family, considering the fact that Eric and Sal are all he has, but Eric insists. So Tommy decides to send an invite to Howie, Hen, Lucy, and Bobby. He also sends an invite to Eddie and Evan and hopes it isn’t a mistake.

Cut to Buck receiving a wedding invitation from Tommy 2 years after he broke up with Buck and never spoke to him again and Buck is like, “what the fuck?”

[sealochs]

had a moment of total overwhelm after the movers left earlier today, staring at the contents of mum's house that i've been keeping in storage & worrying i'd never find a place for it all. but this afternoon & evening of unpacking her my our things has been so beautiful. everything i've unwrapped has had so many memories attached, so much familiarity. it's a joy to fill my first home with her things. her snoopy cookie jar. the royal doulton dinner service. all of her well-used, well-seasoned le creuset. the denby tea set that we made multiple trips to stoke-on-trent to collect, & which i think of every time i drive the a50. my grandad's bone-handled carving set. the cut crystal wine glasses that must have been a wedding present. endless snoopy mugs. my grandma's bamboo cutting board. baking trays i remember using as a child. the silver cutlery. & mixed in with it all, a coffee cup i stole from pembroke formal as an undergraduate. the pots i've made this past year with my own hands. funny mugs that beloved friends have gifted me. the wusthof knives i bought myself in lockdown. the rest of the flat is a mess but the kitchen is mine & home & hers & lovely.

[upn-the-sky]

They were left in Sparta (Lysandra and Calliope OOAK, part 1)

Not a surprise post for these who standing by my doll making processes. (THANK YOU YALL)

Yes, I made them too. It was my cruel plan from the beginning. Because Kratos just can't be fully himself without his family and the first trilogy is a fullmetal prove of this statement. Kratos literally destroyed the world, where they're dead.

After preparing to write all of this, I found out that somehow I don't have a lot of photo of them.. (Is it canon or not??) I think I was really too busy with Kratos's armor and girls didn't try to drive me insane at the final stages, but oh well. I'll try to fill the gaps in process with my rants.

_____________

Lysandra's head

As I said, I planned that from the very beginning. Lysandra's head arrived at the same package with Kratos's. Rare photo of these two BEFORE.

And her head was absolutely perfect (you can guess the actress!), It didn't even need an extreme resculpting like Kratos. I just remade her nosebridge to make her nose looks more greek, you know.

And that's the body I choose for her. Small bust, soft belly, strong wide hips. Spartan woman TM (Is it consider as a nudity content? There is would be plenty.)

God I was so glad that her head didn't need a lot of touch ups. (at the same time I was dying over Kratos's quirasse). Airbrush for laying a skincolor. Aquarellis and soft pastels for the face-up.

I wanted her to have a calm, but strong-willed expression as we can see at concept arts from Ascension. Looking at her in Ascension I am joking often in my head that Kratos married a female version of himself.

Okay, her face turned out pretty "ascensioned". But my goal is to keep in touch with the GOW1 design. I made her hair from the light brown wool, layering strands backwards (and as I remember correctly, in Hellada more beautiful than tow-heads were only red-heads..)

I really love and adore Lysandra. She feels so feminine, and she was the only one (before Ares) who kept a tight rein on her reckless husband. And, well, she is ready.

_____________

Calliope's head

Girls didn't try to drive me insane. Think about this lie twice, my past-me. At the stage of preparation, I found out that I can't find a donor head and body for the 8 y/o child. And the problem was not in ages. It was in scaling. 1/6 is too big (Kratos and Lys are in this scale), 1/12 is too small, 1/8 has only adult faces, etc. Fffffffffffff, it turned out in need to ask saler to print me a custom sized head with childlike features. I chose this anime girl and resculpted eyes, nose and lover lip.

I wanted her to looks like Kratos, like his little copy, so I tried my best to make them look alike.

_____________

Calliope's body What about the body? Welllll, I planned to use Penny's box body firstly, but after some time I gave up and agreed to myself that this body had proportions of a 1 or 2 y/o child even if I like hands and feet. Good for a chibi, but not for a regular girl.

According to concept arts, Calliope should be able to press her face to Lysandra's belly. And cause I am lazy and I didn't want to sculpt a whole body from zero, I bought an 1/12 adult action body for the base and started to make 1 frankenstein body from 2.

Firstly, I decided to remove all rubber skin from the jointed carcass. Secondly, I cut off forearms and calfs and replaced them with the ones from the Penny's box body. After that I sculpted the whole new torso, thickened arms and legs, but saved the movability of all joints. Joint in the neck is questionable, but it's visibility is not bothering me much.

OKay, size comparison looks promising.. Time for painting, I mean airbrushing.

For the base color I chose dark tan of the hands and feet and airbrushed both head and body with it. (Photos as usual shows what they wants). And I also painted the face with aquarellis and blushed her body with soft pastels. I knew, all of that work with pastels won't be visible under the clothes, but I am very pleased with the realistic vibe of the skin.

And you know what's next!

_____________

Calliope's hair Calliope is the first and only doll in my GOW party who has actual hairstyle. Her hair are done in a very tight curls? Or braids? It is hard to understand, but it made my life very difficult! ᕕ( ᐛ ) ᕗ

I'll say it right now, after many tries I had left the hope to make her curly braids reversible. Her head is too small for that. And I didn't want to use hair spray for the wool, because it could make wool looks too greasy.. But I continue to think. And remembered one thing. You probably did it yourself, if you have long hair like me. I meanб if you hold a hairstrand with two hands and start to twist it in one way, in one moment it will curl into a double spiral right between your fingers.

After remembering that I just made the same thing with wool, sealing the result with curling iron, and glued these tight spirals it to the head.

Aaaand this is it. My poor eyes. (Lol it is Kratos on the gif, I haven't notice)

She turned out pretty good I'd say, really. They both did. But somehow the sealant I use for the doll face-ups gave an unexpected reaction on Calliope's face and after some time began to peel off slightly over her eyes. An uncritical thing, because it just made her pupils look foggy and I redraw her eyes right above it.

I just feel that I need to say some words in the end of the post to hint that I will show her face properly in the Part 2, where we're going to make clothes for them!

Stay tuned! And thank you for the comments and the tags under reposts! I read all of them and feel myself very inspired!

[tardis--dreams]

Reached the doctor's office on the 1st attempt today. Impressed.

They don't do covid vaccinations (:

[uncanny-tranny]

Anger is such a normal part of recovery, and I wish it were normalized. I think it is genuinely harmful to depict recovery as this era of your life that only sets you free and makes you euphoric, and there will never again be a cloud in the sky because you have Ultimately Healed.

It's the fucking opposite sometimes. Recovery can feel violent, because the things you are recovering from are often (though not always) violent. It is so common to feel white-hot rage, grief, catharsis, elation, numbness - in essence, a whole host of emotions that aren't pretty, or aren't simple little categories to be neatly boxed and sorted and understood by the "normals."

Those recovering: Your emotions are real, and they aren't bad. You aren't a bad person for how you are processing and healing. You, however, aren't alone. You are doing so fucking well, no matter what it is you are healing from or for. I genuinely hope you can be proud of that.

[somnimagus]

did some vesperia chibis, i always forget how happy i get drawing these guys. i love them dearly

[id in alt text]