#i wonder how many people will actually participate....

[itslilacokay]

prepare!

for context: i pitched an idea to the ava tumblr community about a day where we can just draw chosen happy, eventually it turned into a week!

the only real purpose of chosenweek is to draw chosen happy after all the shit he's been through, thats it! its the week of wholesome chosen art, to put it simply

note you can also include other silly sticks, not just tco! though remember what this week is all about heh

ACK, forgot to mention that you can draw, write.... uh etc. stuff for this event!!

the REAL start of chosenweek will start arounnnd 12am gmt+8 (when it turns october 28 in my time), this post is only for preparation

speaking of, i also made some prompts for the event, some of them were suggested by the community! youre welcome to use this though take note that you dont have to finish all of them and that this list is ENTIRELY OPTIONAL because i know sticktober is still going on

this promptlist was only made for fun, btw so have fun

oh yeah to anyone wondering, if you want to post anything related to this event the tag is just simply #ava chosenweek!

participating in this silly mini event the community thought up is your choice btw!!! not forcing you to join or anything!!

[mortalityplays]

This is a dangerous sentiment for me to express, as an editor who spends most of my working life telling writers to knock it off with the 45-word sentences and the adverbs and tortured metaphors, but I do think we're living through a period of weird pragmatic puritanism in mainstream literary taste.

e.g. I keep seeing people talk about 'purple prose' when they actually mean 'the writer uses vivid and/or metaphorical descriptive language'. I've seen people who present themselves as educators offer some of the best genre writing in western canon as examples of 'purple prose' because it engages strategically in prose-poetry to evoke mood and I guess that's sheer decadence when you could instead say "it was dark and scary outside". But that's not what purple prose means. Purple means the construction of the prose itself gets in the way of conveying meaning. mid-00s horse RPers know what I'm talking about. Cerulean orbs flash'd fire as they turn'd 'pon rollforth land, yonder horizonways. <= if I had to read this when I was 12, you don't get to call Ray Bradbury's prose 'purple'.

I griped on here recently about the prepossession with fictional characters in fictional narratives behaving 'rationally' and 'realistically' as if the sole purpose of a made-up story is to convince you it could have happened. No wonder the epistolary form is having a tumblr renaissance. One million billion arguments and thought experiments about The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas that almost all evade the point of the story: that you can't wriggle out of it. The narrator is telling you how it was, is and will be, and you must confront the dissonances it evokes and digest your discomfort. 'Realistic' begins on the author's terms, that's what gives them the power to reach into your brain and fiddle about until sparks happen. You kind of have to trust the process a little bit.

This ultra-orthodox attitude to writing shares a lot of common ground with the tight, tight commodification of art in online spaces. And I mean commodification in the truest sense - the reconstruction of the thing to maximise its capacity to interface with markets. Form and function are overwhelmingly privileged over cloudy ideas like meaning, intent and possibility, because you can apply a sliding value scale to the material aspects of a work. But you can't charge extra for 'more challenging conceptual response to the milieu' in a commission drive. So that shit becomes vestigial. It isn't valued, it isn't taught, so eventually it isn't sought out. At best it's mystified as part of a given writer/artist's 'talent', but either way it grows incumbent on the individual to care enough about that kind of skill to cultivate it.

And it's risky, because unmeasurables come with the possibility of rejection or failure. Drop in too many allegorical descriptions of the rose garden and someone will decide your prose is 'purple' and unserious. A lot of online audiences seem to be terrified of being considered pretentious in their tastes. That creates a real unwillingness to step out into discursive spaces where you 🫵 are expected to develop and explore a personal relationship with each element of a work. No guard rails, no right answers. Word of god is shit to us out here. But fear of getting that kind of analysis wrong makes people hove to work that slavishly explains itself on every page. And I'm left wondering, what's the point of art that leads every single participant to the same conclusion? See Spot run. Run, Spot, run. Down the rollforth land, yonder horizonways. I just want to read more weird stuff.

[cookiescribble]

Extracurricular

(gif source)

A/N: this has been sitting in my drafts fully written for like a month, i’m so sorry 😅 but i know we all love the professor episode, so I had to write a little something about it 🫶🏻 - mod angel

Pairing: Professor!Reid x Wife!Reader

Summary: Spencer is confused about why so many students are auditing his class. As his wife, you decide to come and investigate.

~~~

You heard the apartment door open, glancing up to see Spencer drop his keys on the table by the door. 

You were reading on the couch, laying down and killing time before it was time for him to come home. You sat up, placing your bookmark on the page you last read before dropping your book on the coffee table. “Welcome home,” you smiled up at him. 

He flashed a little smile, but you could tell something was up. You moved to sit cross-legged, making room for him on the couch. “What’s wrong?” You asked, patting the spot next to you so he could sit. 

He plopped down on the couch, sighing, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. He closed his eyes and leaned into you. 

“You looked so excited this morning,” you ran your fingers through his hair, something that had become routine when he came back from a tough case, or just needed some extra affection for any reason. “What happened?”

He sighed again, turning to look at you, resting his head back on the couch. “I don’t know, I was really excited to teach. I love sharing what I know with people.”

You nodded, fully aware of this. It was something you loved about him, always eager to teach you something new. It was annoying when other people did it, but not when Spencer did it. “Uh-huh. So what’s the problem?”

“I… I was eager to be an actual professor, hoping I could help people with their studies and their grades.” He looked a little frustrated. “But most people are only auditing the class. Only a handful aren’t.”

You nodded thoughtfully. “That’s not what you were expecting, huh?”

He shook his head. “I mean, I guess it’s good that people want to learn about this stuff? It’s just not how I pictured it.” He shrugged, running a hand through his hair. “At least they’re listening to me. And some of them are pretty enthusiastic about participating. There were a few girls who seemed really excited about this stuff.”

You looked at him, narrowing your eyes a bit, a little smile on your face. “Wait, so… these people are auditing your class. And girls are participating… you said they listen to you… do you think they’re paying a little too much attention to you?” You inquired, slightly amused.

He gave you a confused look. “What do you mean? I think it’s a normal amount of attention to pay to a class.” He shrugged. “I mean, I always felt like no one was paying enough attention when I was in college, so I was pleasantly surprised that people were actually participating, asking questions, some of them even stayed for a bit after the class let out because they wanted to know more.”

You couldn’t help but let out a little laugh. “Uh-huh… so, you got college students to not only stay awake, but alert and attentive… and they wanted to stay after class,” you spoke slowly, wondering if he would get the hint.

He nodded. “Yeah? Why?”

You gave him a pat on the shoulder, smiling and shaking your head. “Yeah, I know exactly why so many people are auditing your class.”

He still looked confused. Very oblivious. It was kind of adorable. “I don’t understand,” he replied, his brows furrowed.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, twirling a finger in his hair. “They must’ve heard that this class has a sexy professor.” You laugh softly, watching the cogs turn in his brain as he processed this.

He scrunched his nose a bit, shaking his head. “No, I don’t think that…” He stopped, his eyes darting around as he became deep in thought. Probably perfectly recalling everything from his class that day. “… You really think that’s it?”

You nodded, kissing his cheek. “It’s adorable you wouldn’t have even considered that if I didn’t say anything.” He was absentmindedly running his thumb over your hand that rested on his shoulder. “I mean, I don’t blame them. I’d definitely audit your class.” You took his hand and started twirling his wedding band around his ring finger. “Did you tell them you’re married?”

He started to blush a little at the attention you were giving him, and at the thought of other people wanting to give him attention. “I’m pretty sure I mentioned it at some point… I think someone asked about it-“ He cut himself off, looking at you again. “Okay, maybe you’re right.”

You laughed, draping your legs over his as you gave him a quick kiss on the lips, which he returned. “Maybe I should visit your class, see what all the fuss is about,” you winked at him.

He smiled, running his fingers through your hair. “I don’t know if I’d be able to concentrate with you there.” He leaned in to kiss your forehead. “But, I admit, it would be nice.”

The conversation eventually fizzled out, as you and Spencer naturally fell into your usual evening routine; mostly just sitting on the couch in each other’s arms, talking, watching TV, and eating dinner. 

You had an idea in your head the whole time, keeping it to yourself. You had a surprise planned out now. 

…

The next day, after Spencer left for his class, you quickly got dressed to head out, throwing on a sweater and modest skirt with some flats. Nothing too fancy, you wanted to fit in with the other students. 

You remembered him telling you the building his class was in, and you were able to slip in like you were supposed to be there. You found the classroom after wandering for a while, quite a few students already sat in the class. Of course; very eager, you thought

You thought about just sitting in the back to blend in with the background, but something possessed you to sit in the middle near the other girls in the class. Not really jealousy; you knew Spencer has never even given anyone else a second glance since you started dating. It was more like… pride. Perhaps a smug feeling. You may be infatuated, but that’s my husband.

You sat down near a group of girls, and they eyed you for a moment. You fidgeted, thinking they were going to start whispering bad things about you. Habit from when you were in school. 

Instead, one of the girls leaned over, speaking to you in a friendly tone. “Hey, are you new to this class?”

You probably should have just admitted that you weren’t actually a student, but part of you just wanted to see what would happen. “Yeah, this is my first time here.”

She leaned in to whisper, “Did you hear about the professor? Is that why you’re here?” She was giving you a genuine look, seemingly just curious. Or maybe happy to talk to someone about this. 

You feigned innocence. “No, I was just interested in the subject. Is there something special about him?” You reply in the same hushed tone as her.

She looked at the other girls around her, and they all giggled. One of the other girls responded. “He’s super hot. Didn’t you hear the rumors?”

You bit back a smile. It felt strange, having people talk about him like this. “No, I didn’t hear anything. Is that really true?” You tried to seem interested, without being conspicuous. 

All the girls nodded. You leaned in a bit to match their enthusiasm. 

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up,” one of the girls whispered. “He said he’s very happily married.” She all but rolled her eyes at that. 

A little smile appeared on your face, a warm feeling rushing over you. You put your hand under the table, hiding your wedding ring. “Really? Well… maybe I can have better luck with him.” You rested your chin in your other hand, smiling smugly. 

She scoffed, obviously not believing you. “Yeah, sure. He wouldn’t even look at any of us.” She shook her head. “If you want to believe it, go ahead. I’ll be waiting to say I told you so.”

You were cut off by the sound of a door opening and closing. Spencer stepped out in front of everyone, putting some papers down on his desk. The girls immediately stopped their conversation, sitting up straighter in their chairs and facing forwards. You covered your mouth to keep yourself from snickering. 

Spencer greeted the class, who echoed back his greeting. He started to introduce the material he was going to be talking about today, when his eyes settled on you. His expression softened. 

You gave him a little wink and a subtle wave. He looked like he was holding back a smile, looking away from you to concentrate on teaching. 

It was really a sight to behold, he had most of the class twirling their hair, wrapped around his finger without him even realizing. Not like you could blame the students; he was always able to make everything seem fun and exciting. It was something you loved about him. 

The class seemed to fly by. You were honestly glad you came; you could watch him talk for hours. You’re sure he would if you asked, and you were considering it after seeing this. 

When he dismissed the class, the girls started swarming him at his desk. You laughed and rolled your eyes, standing up slowly and hanging back a bit. 

You could see him politely answering questions, ignoring the girls sitting on his desk and quickly packing up his things. 

You walked closer to his desk, and he looked up and smiled. “Hey!” He called out to you, rushing over to wrap you up in a hug. You could feel the stares on you as you settled into his arms, and he kissed your forehead. “I didn’t know you were coming today!”

You smiled up at him. “I thought I’d surprise you.” You reached up to give him a quick peck on the lips, solidifying the jealous eyes that were glaring daggers at you. You couldn’t help it; you felt a pride building up inside you that you were the one he sought out while he was being crowded like this. “Surprise?”

He laughed, tucking you into his side, his arm around your waist. “Yeah, surprise.” He turned to everyone who was still lingering around you, their faces a mix of confusion and jealousy. “Everyone, this is my wife.”

You gave a small wave, everyone greeting you halfheartedly. You locked eyes with the girl who initially approached you earlier. She seemed more embarrassed than angry. 

Spencer gave you one last little hug. “I have a few things to finish up, I’ll meet you home later, okay?”

You nodded, giving him one last little parting kiss before he slung his bag over his shoulder and started to walk out of the classroom door. 

Everyone was looking at you again, and you felt a little embarrassed now that Spencer wasn’t there with you. You started to excuse yourself quietly, trying to get out the door quickly without bringing more attention to yourself. 

You heard someone catch the door after it almost closed behind you. “Hey,” they called out as they caught up to you. 

You turned to see the same girl again, and you had to suppress your instinct to run away. Instead, you just nodded at her, giving her your attention since that was obviously what she was asking for. 

“I, uh…” she started, her tone nervous. “What I said earlier, I wasn’t trying to say anything bad about you, I was just…” 

You gave a soft chuckle in response, shaking your head. “It’s alright. I get it.” You gave a little wave of dismissal. “I might’ve done the same if I was in your position.”

That seemed to ease her worries a bit. “Thanks for being cool about this.” She hugged the books she was carrying closer to her chest. She spoke a little softer. “Dr. Reid spoke very highly of you, you know. When we asked about his wedding ring.” She flinched a bit. “Which I guess was kind of a weird thing to ask…”

You smiled, shaking your head a bit. He had people asking about his wedding ring, and he didn’t even have a second thought about it. “It’s alright. He didn’t even think anything of it. He thought you were just really interested in the course material.”

She furrowed her brows. “Really?” She still looked confused when you nodded. “Huh. Well, I guess he really loves you if he doesn’t even notice people flirting with him.”

You shrugged. “No, he’s just a little clueless when it comes to this kind of thing. I had to really spell it out for him that I was interested in him when I asked him out on our first date.” You smiled warmly at the memory, reliving those early days of your relationship, so long ago now.

She let out a soft laugh. “That’s kinda funny, actually.” She stopped walking, looking like she had to start walking a different way. “So… no hard feelings?”

You turned towards her and shook your head. “No, not at all. Maybe try not to come onto him in the future, though.” You smiled slightly, your tone light and casual.

“Of course,” she laughed awkwardly. “Um. I have to go to class now, so…”

You nodded at her. “Go ahead. Hope you have a good day.”

She smiled. “You’re really cool. I see why he likes you. Most people would’ve been really angry if they were in this situation.”

“Well, I’m not insecure about our relationship.” You felt your phone buzz, and you took it out of your pocket to see a text from Spencer, making you smile. “And I don’t fault anyone for being attracted to him.”

“Cool,” she said, starting to step back a little more. “Um. It was nice meeting you.”

You gave her a little wave. “You too. Hope you enjoy the class; Spencer is really happy to be able to teach people, so I hope everyone is actually listening to him and not just staring at him.” 

She laughed lightly, her demeanor a little warmer now. “I’ll try to get the message out.” She waved and said goodbye before turning around and walking away. 

You finally looked at the text Spencer sent you: 

Hey, do you think you could pick up some dessert on your way home? I’m really craving something sweet. Maybe we could make brownies?

You smiled to yourself. Seeing all those people throwing themselves at Spencer really made you appreciate what you had with him. He had people gawking over him, but you were the one who got to go home with him and make dessert, and have all these sweet moments with him. You’d never get over just how lucky you were to be the one he chose to spend his life with. 

[creature-wizard]

Continuing on the topic of connection being not a feeling, but a rather a set of circumstances in which you are engaging and participating, I think a lot of people out there just don't realize how dangerous the way many of us have been taught to think of feelings in relation to spirituality really is.

Like Zan pointed out, Evangelical Christians are taught that positive emotions are actually the Lord moving through them, rather than their own personal reactions to their experiences. Meanwhile, Evangelical church services are deliberately engineered to elicit these kinds of of feelings in people. It's pure emotional manipulation.

Similar ideas are found in New Age spirituality, where "spiritual discernment" is frequently boiled down to "does it make me feel good or not?" People are taught to evaluate politically charged information based on whether it, for lack of a better term, sparks joy. Now, determining whether or not something sparks joy is a wonderful way to decide whether you want to keep your old tea kettle, but here we're talking about information that people will base crucial personal and political choices on.

Meanwhile, New Age influencers do everything they can to make sure they're sparking joy for you. Let's take Paul White Gold Eagle, for example. His videos are constantly talking about things that sound exciting, like messages from archangels, dragons of light, and emerald transmissions. This type of baiting - joybaiting, I'll call it - is meant to hook you emotionally and make you think that this has to be true because it elicits that oooough, shiny reaction. Next thing you know, you've been joybaited into falling down the conspirituality pipeline and you believe some version of QAnon's conspiracy theories.

This kind of thinking is even dangerous in pagan circles. You find yourself thinking about a thing and noticing a lot? You feel an intense pull to study it? You'll find people out there telling you that you have a spiritual connection to it, like, maybe you were part of it in a past life. And maybe you go and get a past life reading, or even undergo hypnosis. And now you, the whitest gal in the surburb with zero familial connections to any Native people, feel entitled to appropriate some form of Native spirituality because you felt fascination with it, or what you thought it was, and now you're contributing to white sage decimation and spreading around some sort of Native-flavored form of neopaganism as if it's actual Native spirituality.

Or maybe you fall in with a neopagan cult leader who uses your fascination to convince you that you knew each other in a past life, and you were led to them in this life so you could continue some important work in this life, and they pull you completely into their bullshit.

Finally, it's dangerous because it encourages stalkers. A lot of stalkers are people with incredibly powerful fixations on others. These types of beliefs get them convinced that their victims are actually their soulmates or twin flames or whathaveyou, and make them feel justified in engaging in stalking behavior.

All of this is why it's important to recognize that connection is a circumstance, not a feeling. Your feelings are utterly irrelevant to whether you are actually connected. What most people take for "feeling connected" is literally just fascination or fixation, maybe reinforced by the Baader-Meinhof phenomenon. Real connection is something you cultivate and build, and it does not exist outside of your actual, physical engagement and participation.

[teeskzagain]

pov: bully!perv wooyoung couldn’t resist an opportunity to mess with you

warnings: brief mentions of bullying (nothing severe), mentions of sexual frustrations, elements of cnc (but again, nothing extreme), fingering, mutual masturbation, “unwanted” ejaculation on to reader, public sex, like a smidge of fluff? take it or leave it, desperate woo (my fav actually) minor tit play.

wc: ~ 3.2k words

a/n: yk, i find it funny how i always try to make quick drabbles, but somehow it always gets turned in 1k and up fics…….anyways, enjoy!

taglist: @hwasbbyg @velvetmoonlght @blackp1nkfan @gigikubolong29 @solarhwa

imagine bully!perv wooyoung, who’s been sexually frustrated for the past few days, grumbling softly to himself. He hops up onto his usual bus route, the one he takes after a dance lesson, with pure agony and dread.

not only is he ticked off at how shitty his sex life’s been going (he was supposed to meet up with a girl tonight, yet she flaked) but now he has to endure a 40 minute long ride back to his home city with a currently dead phone. how annoying.

scuffling down the aisle, he continues to mumble about these facts whilst darting his lower lip out in a pouty way. there wasn’t many people occupying the front section of the bus, and so as he’s getting ready to take a seat nearby, he spots something that makes his whole body go rigid.

you. near the back. staring idly out of the window. hands clasped together, watching the nightly glow from outside. wooyoung cocks his head to the side. what are you doing here? had you always taken this route and he’s never noticed before? but that couldn’t have been the case, surely he would’ve recognized you at some point during his few weeks of riding the bus here and back home.

wooyoung mulls this thought over.

well, knowing you, you’d probably ride all the way back on the dirty bus floor if it meant completely evading him.

he seriously wouldn’t put it past you to do such a thing. the dynamic between you two has always been skewed since the start of university. it’s almost laughable the extreme measures you’ve gone to stay out of his vicinity, though, wooyoung somehow always finds a way to taunt you.

and just like that, his lips form into a crude smile. he knows that you dislike him to no end. he knows you always try to avoid him at all costs. and, yeah, maybe he’s a little crass acting when he’s around you, but you make your hatred towards him so obvious it’s sort of hard not to take advantage of that. hence, the constant teasing courtesy of him.

and yet, he also knows that the work uniform you’re currently wearing is doing wonders for him right now. a pretty pastel dress that stops mid-thigh, with a crisp white collar around your neck. how it curves at your chest so nicely.

the way it cinches your waist, practically sculpting your body in perfect portions that he’s honestly never seen you in such a way before. makes him practically want to start salivating.

imagine bully!perv wooyoung, who’s just been so damn horny that he’s willing to do anything for a release. a chance to expel some of that pent up stress he’s been feeling, at least what he’s been feeling for tonight.

which is why moments later, you find the vacant spot right next to you now being occupied with a body. a body, that at the recognition of his face, makes you visibly shudder in disgust.

wooyoung wastes no time in sparking up conversation, though it comes off as one-sided with your lack of participation. he wouldn’t expect anything less from you. he deems your cold act towards him something that intrigues him. a challenge almost. and he wants to see you break.

“y/n….you’re so quiet today.” he remarks more towards himself as he watches you closely, “something on your mind?”

you drag the lower part of your lip into your mouth in attempt to distract yourself from this bastard. gosh, does he just get off on messing with you?

at the beacon of silence, wooyoung prompts more questions and even leans in to further accentuate his presence, “yah, you know it’s rude to ignore someone when they’re talking to you right? i’m your senior too, so treat me with more respect.”

without turning too much towards him, you partly twist your body and speak quietly. you didn’t wish to cause a scene, “stop it.”

ah, now he’s got you.

“i’m just pointing out that you’re a bad junior. what, does that bother you?” he raises an eyebrow with the question, and in turn has to hide the spreading smile on his face as your body does yet another scootch towards him.

“will you please be quiet?” your somber voice ends with a bite, doing a quick glance over your shoulder.

he digs further, “i’m wanting to talk with my favorite, little y/n, and here you are. acting so cruel to me. really, it’s hurtful-”

“jung. wooyoung.” you snap, shifting once again so you’re currently chest to chest with your classmate. as your gaze bores deeply into his own, you can see a mix of emotions radiating in the center of his pupils.

“yeah?” wooyoung stares you down with a sinister grin, happy to get some sort of reaction out of you.

he isn’t sure how sex deprived he is, but just hearing you say his name already sends a wave of arousal surging through him.

your lip twitches out of annoyance. there’s more words threatening to spill from your tongue, but it’s like nothing wants to come out, so for a moment you're quiet. eyes scattering around, you eventually break eye contact with wooyoung and gaze your attention downwards.

though when you finally avert your eyes, your breath quickly catches when you spot a large lump resting idly within his baggy joggers. a small, 'hip' leaves your throat.

wooyoung follows your eye line, then lets out a soft chuckle once he sees what is you’re gaping at. yeah, sporting a half chub right now probably isn’t the best look. but if he’s being completely honest, he’s getting harder at the fact you’re straight up gawking at him.

“oh, right.” he begins to half-comment, then does a quick peep at you, “this is kinda your fault, just so you know.”

"huh?" skittishly, you go to look at him before turning away as embarrassment floods your skin after getting caught staring.

wooyoung tucks in his lips to suppress an affection grin, him reaching a hand up to tug at your dress. he tries to gain your attention once more, “come on, don’t act stupid.”

he closes the space between you two as he continues to press you for another clapback. in response, you tuck your face into your shoulder and create a shield from him. but, wooyoung’s relentless.

his hand on your dress turns into a hand on your thigh. he grips your flesh with a sing-song voice until you eventually look back at him. as he continues to spew comments, you couldn’t help if your eyes caught a glimpse of the now fully erected bulge protruding through the fabric.

he’s quick to notice this and calls you out on your glances, “you wanna see it or something?”

horror washes over you face. you begin to stammer in protests, asking him why he would say such a thing and that he’s being inappropriate.

a hearty laugh bellows from wooyoung. god, does he find you cute. so dumb, yet so cute. keeping his grasp on you, he begins to slouch further into the bus seat while he spreads his legs out. his knee accidentally knocks into yours just as he rolls his neck in your direction.

“seriously, you want to?” he waits for response but as you go to shake your head, he’s already reaching for your hand, “y/n, i think you’re a fucking perv.”

“w-wooyoung, what the hell?.” you fight to take your hand off of his crotch, but he simply fights right back, keeping a strong hold on your fingers. in no time, he drops your hand on top of his clothed hard-on and forces you to rub him.

"let me go!" you hiss, but the request goes ignored. he’s enjoying your struggle, your combat against him.

in an almost exaggerated manner, he starts to accentuate his hip rolls against your touch. it begins as a joke, with him enjoying your bewildered expression at his actions. but quickly does he start to lavish in the desperate heat he’s been feeling all night, “oh fuck. y/n, you always touch guys like this?”

the nerves in your fingers feel electrified, almost like a buzz when he’s teasing you. the sensation is foreign. you want to scrunch your face in disgust at his gratification. scream help at the other three people who sat towards the front of the bus, oblivious to what’s happening.

however, you can recognize what the worst feeling was. the fact that through it all, a tiny pulse begins to build between your legs. how badly you hated this, you hated him, and yet, that’s the very thing turning you on. what is wrong with you?

the realization of his hard length being dragged against your fingers brings you back, as you start to register the slickness coating your skin. wooyoung darts a tongue out and flings his head back, exposing the vast area of his neck. he’s got a small smile on his face, “go inside my pants.”

“you’re disgusting….” sneering, you glare deeply at the boy who’s simply basking in the pleasure you’re providing. he feels your stare and you watch him slightly tilt his head down, the little hairs on his forehead falling forward.

“do you really think that?” his voices pipes up at the end before giving you a smug look, “you think i’m so bad?”

and right as you go to confirm those thoughts, a quick motion cuts you off. soon, you feel pressure from underneath your dress, then against your underwear; he’s now pressing his fingers on top of your cunt.

“cause if i didn’t know any better,” he removes his hand from your area and decides to shove it in your face, “you fucking like this.”

the movement startles you briefly and it takes a second for your eyes to focus. though as soon as your vision clears, you see wet fingers staring back at you. it causes your breath to hitch, “i don’t.”

“bullshit.” he dives his hand back under your dress, ready to collect more slick, and involuntarily you clasp your thighs around his hand. eyes squeezed shut, the moment contact was made, you’re brimming with sensitivity.

he watches you intensely. now that you have him trapped, he takes the time to start grazing the fabric of your panties, beginning at a leisure pace. wooyoung leans his head close to your ear and starts to murmur, “right. you clearly hate this.”

with each stroke his fingers get wetter. with each massage his dick gets harder, if that’s even possible. and with each rub, he sees your body beginning to relax into his touch. your shoulders droop, your body slouches deeper into him, and he can see your chest heaving up and down lowly. you’re such a liar.

“oh, god.” you mumble, and wooyoung has to stop a groan from leaving him at your current state. you’re succumbing to him so well, so easily. he loves each and every second of this, but he even with this, he understands there’s always more to enjoy.

“alright, y/n, nothing’s free.” he starts to ease up on you, his touches becoming lighter, and he gives you a knowing glance, “come on, let’s go.”

his pelvis raises slightly to draw attention towards his lonely cock, and you could only crane your head slowly towards him. going from his crotch and up to his face, you gaze at him with an expression of reluctancy.

the aching in your cunt is screaming at you to push forward, however, the logistic side of your brain is harshly reprimanding you for even considering. after thinking it over, it’s almost as if your hand began to move on its own, essentially giving into your tempted desires.

you drag your somewhat limp of palm up towards his waistband, slipping past the blue boxer’s he’s sporting, and finally place it onto his bare cock. he’s immediately responsive, sighing as he slowly rocks himself into your palm to create momentary friction.

at his expression, you can’t help the bubble of disgust that’s rising up inside of you, mixing with your feeling of lust. you grip his bulge, he hums in content. you start to slide your hand up and down, he’s staring at you with ever-loving eyes. in just a few tugs, he’s already huffing with breath stuttering. his own pre-cum begins to cover his shaft, and in return you can sense your hand getting drenched.

“you make me sick.” you say in a hushed voice and wooyoung scoffs at your words.

“oh, fuck off. you love it.” he counters as he takes the fingers inside your dress and uses them to shove your underwear off to the side, going back to circling your now unclothed pussy. literal drops of wetness spill from your entrance, and he can feel it spread in every round strokes he’s producing.

you melt like putty at his hand. from the perfect pressure he’s applying to his occasional dips inside. he’s giving your core the desperate assistance it needed from the moment you for first began feeling like this. it’s almost difficult for you to continue with your jerking inside of his pants, but at every moment you begin to slip, wooyoung swiftly reminds you to do a better job.

“you except me to get off with that flimsy hold? grip it like you mean. yah, i said grip it.”

he halts his movements monetarily, creating an ode to himself to not start up again until you do exactly as you’re being told. your eyelids vibrate in irritation, part of you wanting to keep up with the defiance act. yet, you knew if wanted to leave this situation with some sort of pleasure, obeying this ass would be your best option.

you reposition your hand on his cock, then start your motion up once more. wooyoung’s transported back into his bliss, his eyes having difficulty staying opened. his hips involuntarily ruts inside of your grasp, as he tries his best to not blow his load in the confinements of his pants. no, if he’s going to finish, he knew he needed to make it as easy of a clean up as possible.

which is why a few strokes later, from both you to him, and when wooyoung senses your fat pussy clenching particularly hard against his digits, it’s only then he decides to execute the final stage of his self-pleasuring. he also starts to notice the familiar streets and roads of his neighborhood which lets him know his stop is going to be coming up soon.

just as you feel yourself ready to unravel, coldness floods your core you realize wooyoung’s completely removed himself away and is scrambling to get your hand from being trapped in his sweats.

he’s rushing, now, evident of the quick turnaround he has and how his own hand replaces yours inside of his fleeced joggers. with deep breaths and hazy eyes, he drags his look towards your eyes before dropping his gaze down to your full chest.

“fuck, and i didn’t even get to see your tits,” he mumbles quietly to himself, then darts his vision up to you, “you wanna take ‘em out really quick? just enough so i can how sexy they are.”

an apprehensive groan leaves you, nervousness replacing the arousal you were feeling just a few seconds prior. but, you would be lying if you said the desperate look on jung wooyoung’s face wasn’t getting you bothered right now. how he has an expression between wanting to kiss you and wanting to do more swirling in his pupils.

which is why in no time, you’re turning your body away from the front and more toward the boy, as you begin to undo the buttons of your pretty, pink dress. you don’t go all the way down, just enough to expose the matching pink bra you decided to pair with the outfit.

he whimpers softly at the reveal, “oh my- go all the way for me.”

you do as instructed and reaching up towards you breasts, you begin to pull out your mounds and leave them to hang off of your chest. the cool, still air grazes your erected nipples, causing them to be pointed and you almost resist the urge to twirl your fingers between them.

wooyoung’s tugging grows faster, seeing as the way his hand bobs up and down inside his pants. it’s almost as if he forgot he’s wearing clothes, then once he remembered this fact, he’s scrambling to pull his sweatpants and boxers down mid-thigh. you can now see his thick, red cock out in the open, and threatening to spill at any second.

his breathing turns shallow, and wooyoung continues to rub one out. he even goes as far as taking his unoccupied hand and brining it towards your flesh, grabbing a handful of your tit then moving on to playing with your bud. the action causes you to wince and whine, your mouth forming into an ‘o’ with shut eyes.

at hearing your adorable voice, wooyoung loses it. he feels his orgasm getting ready to wash over, but instead of finishing all over himself, he tilts his cock forward and points his head directly at you.

and before you know, ropes of wooyoung’s cum is getting spritzed onto you lap, all over your legs. he’s marking you with his semen, and god is it so much. his ejaculation continues with tiny moans floating from his lips, beating his cock to your horrified look at the whiteness painting you a beautiful shade.

imagine bully!perv wooyoung, who’s finally had the release he’d been so needy to have all night.

“you’re so good, so damn good.” he says in more of an after thought, finally relieved to have been able to release his frustration, better yet, onto you. he’s still twitching from sensitivity, but that doesn’t stop wooyoung from tucking himself back into his pants and hoisting them up once again. you,still relegate in the fact that you are literally dripping with cum.

just as he’s finishes redressing himself, the bus begins to slow before coming to a stop. you don’t even have time to process what just happened as wooyoung’s quickly grabbing his stuff and standing up, ready to leave. however, he makes sure to leave with parting words before seeing you again at school the next day.

“yah, y/n. take a picture of you in that dress and send it to me.” he quietly asks with up-right corners.

you could only huff out a, ‘fine’. eliciting anything more would’ve taken far too much effort and right now, you were upset at the lack of pleasure for yourself. wooyoung softly laughs at your response but before he fully exits, he dips his head down to place a gentle kiss on your cheek.

he gives you one more smile and a, “now we can cross this one off of the list,” then in a flash he’s gone and off the bus, disappearing into the night.

it’s weird. the relationship between you two.

one minute he’s annoying the absolute reckon out of you, the next he’s placing soft pecks against your skin. you still hated him, and everything he did. his actions that somehow always left you in a perplexed state.

however, maybe what you hated most, was not the crude, antagonizing jokes, but rather the flutter your heart does at the remembrance of his lips lightly on your cheek after each and every encounter.

[psychotrenny]

I wonder how long until all the sort of social infrastructure built up around Western Liberal support for Palestine, all the "river to the sea" instagram infographic brand of activism, gets turned around and used to justify and support some sort of Imperialist intervention the next time there's an international crises and the US is backing people who aren't openly and proudly evil. You can also ready see people appropriating the language of Pro-Palestinian activism to manufacture consent for US intervention in South America; all that "Eyes on Venezuela" type shit. Like the use of charitable NGOs to assist Imperialism isn't anything new, but it would be especially painful to witness an ostensibly anti-Colonial movement get exploited like that. I guess that's the problem with unprincipled support; it might be good enough to have but without a solid ideological basis then there's no telling how long it will last.

Like it's easy to come to the conclusion that Israel must be opposed; their citizens are constantly posting about their proud participation in genocide for fucks sake! But it's going to take a bare minimum of intellectual rigour to figure out your stance on any issues that isn't so cartoonishly obvious. Like instead of basing their attitudes and actions on any actual analysis of the situation in Palestine and the actors involved, for so many liberals their pro-Palestinian sentiment is nothing more than a kneejerk reaction to whoever they think is killing the least babies. Which makes them unlikely to take the right side when the baby-killers aren't posting it on Tik Tok.

[ev3rgreenxtrees]

Strawberry Shortcake

-M.S

Synopsis; You won’t deny it, you are a very attractive girl. You were now a senior in highschool, and everyone seemed to have their eyes on you- except one boy, who just so happens to be the one you want the most.

Pairing; Virgin!Nerd!Sub!Matt Sturniolo X Experienced!Dom!Fem reader

Warnings; Smut, mentions of sh scars!!!! unprotected p in v [don’t do that you silly willy.], oral (m & f receiving), foul language, praise kink, pet names (baby, sweet boy, sweetheart), mommy kink (im sorry.), bondage kink, choking, BD MATTTT‼️

“Now, the boys want a taste of the strawberry shortcake

Thats my bad, thats my bad, no one taught them not to grab

Now, the boys want a taste of the strawberry shortcake”

{3rd Person POV.}

As you strolled through your school’s halls, you noticed everyones’ eyes were on you. It was inevitable. They always were. Sure, you understood that you were attractive, but so attractive to the point everyone needed to stare at you? Not nearly, in your mind. It hadn’t necessarily bothered you, it was only when people began getting bold, did it bother you. Constantly being cat-called with disgusting remarks about your body, people calling you a whore, (even though you had three bodies, which was quite a bit for a senior, but not nearly as much as others in your grade.), and people even asking you out, and you didn’t even know them.

There was one boy, however, that you did have your eyes on. Matthew Sturniolo. A name not known to many besides teachers, his brothers Nick and Chris, and obviously you. You weren’t sure why you have always been so attracted to him. The one boy who never paid you any attention, the one that might not have even noticed you existed, was the one you want the most. Odd how that works.

Matthew always seemed to pay attention in class. Him being one of the very few kids actually participating in class, most- if not all- of his responses being correct. He was seemingly brilliant. You always caught yourself staring at him in class, but he didn’t notice, so you never cared to stop. You realized that when he concentrates so hard on writing all of his notes down, he looks down at his paper, scribbling what seemed like his entire world, yet complete and utter nonsense to you. His glasses always fell slightly down on his nose, his tongue poking out of his plush lips, his hair draping down into his face.

You had always wanted to approach the boy, yet you could never find the words to. This never seemed to be an issue with anyone else in the school, just Matthew. You thought of just upright asking him on a date, but he seems to be the type to not like going out much. You thought about asking him for a book recommendation, but then you would probably have to actually read the book. Also, not a good idea. However, there had been one idea that had stuck with you. A tutor.

You wouldn’t technically be lying if you tell him you need a tutor. You were borderline failing all of your classes. You weren’t trying to- you just simply didn’t understand, and whats the point of trying if you’re not gonna get it anyways? You’d decided to ask Matthew after class today.

The bell rang shortly after, and the whole class left, as they all packed up early. It was the last class of the day, so you couldn’t blame them. Not Matthew, though. He didn’t want to miss a second of the lecture. You found it adorable how much he listens. Hot, even.

“Hey! Matthew, right?” You asked, approaching his desk. He looked down at you, and nodded. You’ve never actually been this close to him, before. His sharp jawline and accentuated cheekbones, his light stubble and his piercing blue eyes. You also hadn’t quite realized how tall he was, either. Not the tallest boy you knew, but you were much shorter than he was. “I was wondering, do you like.. Do tutoring?” I asked shyly, and the boy tilted his head.

“I.. I mean,” He started. His voice was soft, but slightly deep. “I’m sure I could, if necessary.” He shrugged. You let a small smile form on your face.

“Well.. Um.. Do you think you could tutor me?” You gulped. You don’t remember the last time you’ve been this nervous around a guy. Its just the affect Matthew has on you.

“I.. Yeah, I guess so.” The boy shrugged. “Um.. When do you wanna.. start?” He asked, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, his plain white short sleeve rolling up just the smallest bit, revealing a bit of black ink on his arm. Does he have tattoos that no one knows about?

“I’m free today, actually.. If that’s okay. We can go to the library?” I hummed. “Or my apartment, if you’re comfortable with that. I don’t live too far from here.” You offered, leaving the ultimate decision up to him, expecting him to choose the library.

“Well, it’s Friday. I’m sure there’s gonna be a lot of people in the library, and I don’t want to disturb them with us talking, so.. Your house, if thats okay?” He hummed, and your eyes widened. You were surprised that he agreed to your house, but not upset. Not upset at all. You could now have more ‘alone time’ with the boy.

“Yeah! We should probably hurry up, though. I don’t have my license yet, so I have to take the bus.” You spoke shyly, but he smiled. God, even his smile was amazing.

“No, don’t worry. I have my license, I can drive us.” He states, slipping his bag onto his shoulder, walking out of the classroom, leaving you to trail closely behind him. You figured Matthew would have his license, he seemed like the type. You jogged up to him, staying at his side. “I have to drop my brothers home first, if thats okay.” He states, more telling you than offering. You just nod.

You both made it to his car shortly after, and he offered you the front passenger seat, and he told you his brothers could sit in the back. You were the guest, after all. You both waited silently for his brothers to show up, and they eventually did. The slightly shorter boy with longer hair than Matthew and his other brother pulled the passenger door open, and his jaw dropped.

“No fuckin’ way.” He gaped, staring dead at you. Your eyebrows furrowed, and you quickly looked over at Matthew, whose face was bright red with embarrassment. “Matty! Ya finally pulling! Fuck yeah!” The boy laughed. Matty. Cute nickname.

“Shut up, Chris!” Matthew gasped, and you couldn’t help but giggle. Chris almost read your mind— probably not Matthew’s, though. The boy looked as if he’s never thought anything sexual in his life. “You’re so immature.” He scoffed.

“Aw, shut up. Don’t act like ya ain’t wanna hit that.” ‘Chris’ chuckled. “In the most respectful way, though,” Chris looked at you, smiling.

“Chris! Shut the fuck up! You’re so disrespectful!” Matthew grumbled, turning the key, the car starting. He swore. It was adorable.

“No- It’s okay. I’ve been called and told far worse.” You shook your head, reassuring both boys.

“Oh. ‘M sorry to hear that.” Chris frowned. “I hate people who degrade woman. Fuckin’ dickheads for real.” Chris scoffs.

“Yeah. I know.” I hum in agreement.

“Chris, get the fuck back here before you embarrass Matt even more than you already have. Look at the kid, for Christ’s sake!” The boy who was already in the back scolded. Both Chris and I peered over at Matthew, who’s eyes widened.

“No! Don’t look at me!” He whines, quickly turning to face the window. Chris chuckles, and shuts the door, heading to the back.

“It’s okay, Matthew. I think you’re hot, if it helps.” You shrugged, and the boy in the back fake gagged, and Matthew shot back around to stare at you.

“Hot?” He repeats. He acts like no one has ever called him hot before. It is a possibility, though. Matt was attractive as fuck, most people just chose not to compliment him, though, because he didn’t talk much. They call the poor kid a weirdo. You don’t think he is, though.

“Yeah.” You nod, and Matthew smiles.

“Just call him Matt. Matthew sounds too formal.” The boy spoke up, as Chris got into the car.

“Oh shut the fuck up, Nick. Always complaining about something.” Chris groans, buckling his seatbelt as the car began to move. The boys home wasn’t far from the school at all, so its not too far out of the way to your home. The boys teased Matt about going to my house, claiming that Matt was gonna get laid. Hopefully it was true.

“It’s that one,” You announce, pointing to a large building on left. Matt nods as he pulls into the large parking lot, which wasn’t very full. You led him to your apartment, digging in your pockets for your keys.

You lived alone, unlike most other seniors. All though they were eighteen, they didn’t have jobs or such, but you did. Your parents allowed you to move out when you were seventeen, and you’ve been doing just fine since. You pushed the door open, and walked in, kicking your shoes off, Matt doing the same.

“It’s.. nice, here.” He complimented; and you offered a bright smile. You usually did try to keep your place tidy, since it was only you, if you kept it clean, it’s the less cleaning you have to do overall.

“Make yourself comfortable on the couch,” You spoke, gesturing to the couch with a nice wooden coffee table in-front of it. “Want anything to drink?” You asked, but Matt shook his head.

“No, thank you.” Matt spoke, pulling out the math homework your teacher had assigned you. You made your way back over to Matt, sitting beside him.

Matt shortly after began his lecture, and if you were being completely honest, you actually caught onto some of it. Not most of it, just a little bit. But it was more than what you had understood from before. You knew that the math thing wasn’t what you cared about, though. Plus, knowing Matt, he’d never make the first move.

“I’m getting hot, i’m gonna go change real quick.” You announce, heading to your room. You weren’t hot. You were wearing jeans and a t-shirt, which in your opinion wasn’t revealing enough. You wanted Matt to make it obvious he wanted you before you tried to do anything. You don’t want to embarrass yourself. Once you get into your room, you rummage through your clothes. You finally found something that would do perfectly. Small cut shorts, that used to be sweatpants, and a tight cropped t-shirt. You went for more of a ‘casual’ look, so Matt wouldn’t get suspicious. You slipped your shirt and bra off, sliding the crop top on over your body, accentuating your curves and tits.

You found a pair of black lace panties, that didn’t do their job of covering you very well. You slip those on, and then slip the shorts on over them. You felt satisfied with your outfit choice, and you hoped Matt did too.

You made your way to the couch again, and as you looked over to Matt, he looked up at you. His eyes widened ever so slightly, and you could see his adams apple bob, his face turning the slightest shade of pink.

“Um.. R-ready?” He asked, and you nod, sitting next to him on the couch. You were so close, his leg brushed yours, but neither of you moved. “U-um.. So this-“ He said pointing at a random equation. “This is..” He sighed.

“Thats not the one we left off on, Matt.” You state, and he lets out a deep breath. “You don’t look so hot. Are you okay?” You hum, placing your hand on his shoulder, leaning forwards, giving him a glimpse of your tits. He glanced over, his eyes glued to your tits. “Eyes up here, Matty.” You giggled, grabbing his chin, making him look you in the eyes. His entire face was bright red.

“I-I’m sorry, ‘m so so so sorry-“ Matt whined. “I-I don’t know why I did that! Fuck! I-I just-“ Matt panicked. You took this opportunity to press your lips on his, immediately shutting the boy up. Matt seemed hesitant, but slightly kissed back until you pulled away.

“You’re okay, Matt.” You state, and Matt nods with wide eyes. “Did you not like that? I’m sorry,” I started but Matt shook his head.

“No! I mean.. I’ve just never.. done it before..?” He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. Sure. you figured Matt was a virgin, but surely he’s kissed someone before.. right?

“You mean you’ve never kissed someone before?” You questioned, and he nodded.

“Oh god… please don’t think i’m weird!” Matt pleads, and you let out a small giggle.

“You’re adorable, Matt. Why would I think you’re weird? You do know why I actually brought you here.. Right?” I asked.

“Oh- yeah. Sorry.” He states, slowly turning to face the paper again.

“No, Matt. I didn’t invite you here for that.” You hum, taking his hand. You slowly and gently place it on one of your tits, and Matt gasps and closes his eyes. You let out a small laugh at this action. “Open up, Matty. You’re okay.” He does as you say, and looks at you, wide-eyed, and mouth slightly parted.

“I..” He gulps. You could tell the boy obviously had no clue what he was doing. You knew you’d have to take lead, which was no issue to you at all.

You place your hands on his chest, pushing him back on the couch.

“Is this okay?” I asked, waiting for his response before moving on.

“Y-yes..” He nodded.

“Good boy.” You praise, and the boy whined. His sounds were euphoric to you. You straddled the boys’ lap, and his hands hovered over your hips, not touching you yet. “You can touch, baby. ‘S okay. I’m yours.” You reassure, before placing soft open mouthed kisses along the boys neck.

His head tilted backwards, allowing you more space on his neck. His hands gripped at your waist, having no other idea where to put them. You rolled your hips on his crotch, and he let out a high pitched, almost feminine, moan. You continued to kiss along his neck, rolling your hips on him, the boys’ grip tightened and loosened on your waist, as you pulled away from his neck, admiring the purple marks you had left on his neck.

“P-Please; I need you,” Matt whines, and you feel his throbbing cock through his sweats and boxers. You could tell he was big.

“It’s okay, sweet boy. Let me take my time.” You hush, and he pouts.

“Need you now,” He whimpers, and you shake your head in disapproval.

“So needy. Can’t even wait.” You scold. “Maybe, we should just continue with our lesson if you aren’t gonna have manners, hm?” You shrug, slowly removing yourself off of his lap.

“N-no! Please, mom..” He cuts himself off, throwing his hand over his mouth in embarrassment.

“What was that, sweetheart?” You hum, and Matt shakes his head. “What did you say, Matthew. Be a good boy and tell me.” You demand, gently but firmly placing your hand around his throat.

“Please, mommy. Please, I need you,” He begged, and your core throbbed. You sigh, before speaking again.

“Okay, sweet boy.” You nod, your hands resting on his waistband.

“Wait- I want to make you feel good,” He offers. How could you pass up something like that?

“Yeah? And how do you suppose you do that, Matty.” You tilt your head, stilling your movements.

“Can.. Can you sit on my face..?” He asks quietly. “Please..” He eyes your body up and down again, before looking away, seeming ashamed of himself.

“Yeah? Is that what you want?” You hum, and he nods eagerly, letting himself look back at you.

“Yes! Please, mommy.. I wanna make you feel good,” He whines. You nod, standing up, slipping your shorts off, leaving yourself in your lace panties, which hardly did their job of covering you up. “I… I’ve never done something like this before, so.. let me know if im doing anything wrong..” Matt whispers slightly ashamed of himself.

“Okay, Matty. I’m sure you’ll do fine.” I reassured him, before crawling back onto the bed, this time positioning myself over his face instead of his lap.

“Please sit, mommy,” He pleaded, and you smiled and gave him what he wanted. His tongue found it’s way between your folds, his lips wrapping around your clit.

“Oh- fuck! Good boy, you’re such a g-good boy!” You moaned out. For this being Matt’s first time at anything intimate, he was fucking amazing. The way his hands grabbed at your thighs gently, almost unsure of them being there, and the way the frames of his glasses rubbed against your inner thighs as he shook his head vigorously was driving you mad.

Matt whined at the praise, the delicious sound sending vibrations through your body. How the fuck was he so good at this? Does he watch porn all the time like a bad boy? Did he have his brother teach him? His brother was clearly a fuck boy.

“Oh, god, Matty.. Fuck-“ You panted, your stomach clenching. “Fuck,” You whined, “G-gonna make me cum,” You warned, and he let out a small whine. You felt yourself release on the boys tongue as his nose brushed perfectly over your clit, sending shivers down your spine. You began to stand up, but Matt pulled you back down onto his face, allowing himself to lap up your juices. You let out a small hiss, and he immediately lifted you off of him.

“Did I hurt you? I’m sorry, ‘m sorry,” He apologized quickly, his hands gently massaging your hips.

“No, you’re okay sweet boy. It wasn’t your fault, I just got a little overstimulated,” You run your hand through his soft hair reassuringly. He leaned his head into your touch, and you admired the way his glasses were slightly fogged up, your juices dripping down his chin. “You’re so pretty..” You hum, your hands slipping up his shirt. “Can I take this off, pretty boy?” You asked, gesturing to his shirt. He hesitated, before nodding.

You slowly lifted his shirt off, admiring his body. He was perfect, to you. You slipped his shirt off, over his head, and tossed it elsewhere in the room. Thats when you notice the tattoo you had seen earlier. It was on his inner bicep, and you admired it closely. It was a ‘N’ and ‘C’. Initials. Thats when you noticed something else. It was placed over scars, that Matt had done himself. Your heart sank; when you realized what they were from. You didn’t point it out, though. The tattoo must’ve been for his brothers, Nick and Chris.

“You’re so pretty, baby.” You hum, looking back at his face. When you said that, you saw all the worry leave his face. You leaned forwards, placing kisses on his collarbone, matching the ones you had left on his neck.

“Please.. Wanna see you,” The boy whimpered, and you pulled away from his collarbone, wasting no time slipping your own shirt off. This left you in your bra, shorts, and panties. “You’re so pretty, mommy.” The boy complimented, leaning forwards to kiss you.

You leaned into the kiss, slowly pulling his pants down, making sure to leave his boxers on him.

“Please—“ He whined, pulling away from the kiss. “I need you.” He hummed, and you let out a small giggle.

“Patience, baby.” You tutted, and the boy squirmed.

“No!” Matt cried out, slipping his own boxers off quickly. “Now!” Matt demanded, his voice loud, yet still submissive.

“Matthew!” You growl. “Stay put, and don’t fucking touch yourself. Got it?” You demanded more than asked, and his eyes widened.

“I— I’m sorry mommy, I-I didn’t mean to!” He wails, but you ignore his cries. You walked out of the living room, heading to your room. You rummage through your bedside drawer, pulling out three long strips of lace, perfect for what you need them for.

You walk back out to the living room, seeing Matt on your couch. You eyes widened and you stopped your movements. Matt was completely naked, rubbing his cock against your couch slowly, your shirt in his mouth stifling his moans and whines, his eyes shut tightly with tears rolling down his face. It was now when you realized how big he was. What a shame that he was keeping something so pretty away from everyone.

“Matthew!” You gasped, acting as if you had just walked in. “You’re such a dirty boy. How pathetic.” You scoff lowly, walking towards the boy. Hs eyes were now wide open, his movements stilled. He took your shirt out of his mouth, quickly covering his cock with it, insecure of the way you were commenting on him.

“‘M sorry! I wasn’t touching myself, mommy!” He whined. “I-I just need to…” He trailed off, clearly embarrassed.

“Thats still bad, Matthew. I thought you said you were a good boy?” You shook your head. “Sit up, hands behind your back.” You demanded, and Matt looked as if he were about to cry.

“N-no, please! I am your good boy! I-I promise! P-please..!” He cried out, but you shook your head.

“Good boys don’t do that, Matthew. Up.” I demanded once more, and he reluctantly listened, slowly sitting up, putting his hands behind his back.

“I’m sorry, mommy. ‘M really sorry..” He whined the entire time you tied his hands up. Once you were done, you laid him back down, moving down to his legs. You tightly tied them to the coffee table right at the end of the couch, so he couldn’t pull out of the restraints, but it wasn’t hurting him.

“Now you’re gonna have to hold still, hm?” You teased, walking along the couch, scraping your nails gently along his body, making sure to run them up his cock and back down. The boy was holding in his breath as to not moan already, at the slightest touch. You let out a small sigh, brushing the hair out of his face. “Such a shame you were a bad boy and now you have to be tied up.. I could’ve let you touch me..” You shake your head in disappointment, moving back down by his cock, before getting on the couch.

“I-I’m sorry, mommy.. Wanna touch you s’bad,” He cried, and you lick your lips, staring at his cock in awe. Out of the three others you had seen, Matts’ was by far the prettiest and the biggest.

“I know, pretty boy.. I want you to touch me, too, but you were naughty..” You tutted, and Matts’ jolted the second you rubbed your fingers gently over his tip. You leaned down, licking the vein along the underside of his cock.

“Oh! Fuck!” He yells out, squirming below your touch.

“Yeah? You like that, baby?” You tease, and the boy eagerly nods.

“Y-yes! Fuck, yes!” He yells out as you take his tip abruptly in your mouth. “Oh god,” He whimpers, as you swirl your tongue, collecting the salty precum, licking his slit. His stomach flexed and his back arched slightly. You knew this was his first time, so he obviously wouldn’t last long.

You slowly took the rest of him in your mouth, the boy’s hips sputtering, not thrusting though because of the restraints. You bobbed your head up and down, swirling your tongue around his warm wet cock, humming around him.

“F-fuck, mommy! I-I need to cum!” He warned, but to his surprise, you pulled off. “N-No! Please!” He wailed attempting to squirm out of the restraints, and you shook your head.

“This is what you get for not listening.” You explain, and he pouts, feeling his much needed release slowly fade away.

“Please…” He whines, and you move to hover yourself over him.

“Tell me if you want to stop, okay, baby?” You reassure, placing your hand on his cheek. “I’ll stop immediately.” I speak softly.

“O-okay.. Please..” He nodded, letting out a shaky breath. You began to lower yourself down onto him, sliding his tip into your wet cunt, causing the boy to attempt to buck his hips up. “Fuck, mommy!” He yells, his back arching and his eyes squeezing shut, as you took him deeper, bottoming out.

“Fuck, baby- filling me up so well,” You moaned out, beginning to bounce up and down on his cock slowly. He tried lifting his legs, but the lace ropes were not allowing him to. He let out loud moans and whines, hearing his sweet noises were beautiful. His legs began to shake as you rutted your hips against him, your clit brushing against him each time you threw yourself down.

“I-I- please, mommy! I need to cum..!” He cried out, and you leaned forwards, gripping his shoulders tightly, your boobs falling in his face. He took this opportunity to take your tit into his mouth, swirling his tongue around your sensitive nipple.

“G-Good boy, Matty!” You praise, and Matt lets a loud whine out as you clench around him. He came, but he felt bad for cumming without your permission. Even though you wanted to yell at him for it, you were too focused on how good you felt as you were fucking him, his face scrunched up in pleasure, as he licked at your tits.

You slow your movements as you let yourself go on his cock, letting a loud moan out in the process. You slowly pull off, immediatly plopping down on Matt. He let out a deep breath, placing open mouthed kisses to your neck, matching the deep marks he had on his.

A few minutes of you catching your breath and Matt sucking and biting at your neck, he pulled away. He began to stand up, and your heart dropped. You don’t want him to leave. You wanted to fuck him, sure, but you want him too. In more ways than just sex. You reached out to grab his wrist, stopping him from moving, causing him to turn to look at you.

“Please don’t leave,” You pleaded shyly, and he smiled. He leaned forwards, placing a kiss to your forehead.

“I wasn’t planning on it, darling. I’ll be right back.” He states. He then begins walking down the only hallway you had in your house, before turning to walk into the bathroom. You laid flat on your back. waiting for Matt to return, which he did soon after. He had a wet rag in his hand, which he used to gently wipe you down with. He then wipes himself down, and grabs your panties, slipping them back on for you, and rummaging through his backpack.

He pulled out a hoodie that he must’ve kept in there, and slid it on you. It smelled like him, bringing you comfort. He slipped his own boxers on, before picking you up gently into his arms. He begins walking down the same hallway he was down moments before, peaking into all the doorways to figure out which room was yours.

He finally found it, and placed you down gently on your bed.

“I’ll be right back, sweetheart.” He states, before exiting your room. You cuddled into the hoodie, pulling your soft blanket over you. Matt came back, moments later, your phone and his charger in one hand, and his phone in the other, which he held up to his ear. “I’m stayin’ the night here tonight, so have ma drive you and Nick to school tomorrow, kay?” He asked into the phone. He waited a minute, before scoffing and hanging up. “They keep makin’ jokes about me gettin’ laid.” Matt shakes his head, and you giggle immaturely.

“To be fair, they are telling the truth,” You shrug, and he lets out a small sigh, before plugging his phone in and crawling into the bed besides you. “Good luck at school tomorrow with them.” You joke, and his eyebrows furrow.

“Hm?” He asks, tilting his head.

“I marked ya up, pretty good.” You hum, and Matt’s eyes widen.

“Oh.. well, it’s okay. At least they’ll know im your man, and your my girl.” He smirked, gesturing to the same marks you had on your neck.

“My man? Your girl?” You teased.

“Yeah? Are ya not my girl?” He asked, but you shook your head, placing a kiss to his lips.

“Only yours.” You state proudly, tucking yourself into his body.

“Now, the boys want a taste of the strawberry shortcake

Thats my bad, thats my bad, no one taught them not to grab

Now, the boys want a taste of the strawberry shortcake”

『 ↳✧･ﾟ Finn yaps❕ ;

IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK ME SO LONG TO WRITE.

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱ I do NOT give permission for my work to be published on any other site, nor to be claimed as your own . However , reblogs , likes , and comments are much appreciated ! 🤍

ੈ✩‧₊˚ @bernardenjoyer @lovely-calypso @75sturn @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @junnniiieee07

[renthony]

I check the news. I see warnings about covid spreading, accompanied by health organizations begging people to start masking again if they stopped.

I sign petitions and send letters demanding the government to reinstate free vaccines and universal healthcare masking. I receive a vague, form letter response for one out of every ten or so. I keep an eye on the news, hoping it's helping make a difference. It's hard to feel like it is.

I check my social media feeds. I see friends at concerts, fairs, conventions, bars, and parties with no masks. I see friends posting about their third, fourth, fifth covid infection. They do not stop going to bars.

It has been nearly four years since I received an invitation to a virtual social event. I think perhaps I could host my own, but decide it's not worth it, because who would come? How many "don't you want to come out with us?" responses would I receive? Is it worth the reminders that I'm seen as unreasonable and paranoid and overly-severe? Is it worth being reminded yet again that I'm the wet blanket who sucks the fun out of everything for everyone with my caution?

My labor union only keeps hosting virtual meetings because my household insists on it. I lost my temper over it. I raised my voice, I called people ableist, I screamed at them that they were enabling eugenics. My union keeps hosting virtual meetings, but I am left feeling like my rage is the only thing protecting my family, even as it costs me friendships and leaves me feeling isolated from outside peers. I feel shame for the way I railed against my fellow workers, but are they really my fellows if they're so willing to let me and my family die?

I wonder if any of my pre-covid friends miss me at all. I wonder if they only ever spent time with me because it was convenient. I wonder if they ever actually liked me, or if I was simply tolerated.

I turn off my computer and look around at the crumbling walls of my slum apartment.

I wonder if I'll ever get out of here and participate in the outside world again.

[beannoss]

Something I think about a lot and wonder if maybe gets overlooked in Twilight’s story and as vitally indicative of his character is actually in the very first chapter:

Anya isn’t needed for Strix. Twilight decides to adopt her anyway.

[Spoiler warning: Mostly this post deals with early chapters already in the anime but there is reference to chapter 62, which has not yet been animated and will be in season 3]

Twilight decides it — “I’m going to rework the mission so it doesn’t involve a child because that’s too dangerous” and he’s 100% right! Donovan Desmond is canonically a far right warmonger with fascistic authoritarian aims. His government made liberal use of the SSS — a group to mirror the Stasi — who continue to operate in morally dubious ways (much more likely they’re actively morally reprehensible, though we’ve mostly only had rumours of that so far). From what we can tell, Desmond is at best an absent father and likely actually worse than that: if that's how he treats his own children, imagine how he might treat others. And the timeline seems to indicate that the experimentation performed on Anya was done under Desmond's government — even if Twilight isn't aware of experimentation on children, he is aware of both human and animal experimentation under Desmond's government. Taking all that and also the complexity of Strix's aims, undoubtedly there were other things that could be done, more straightforward if not necessarily easier.

So. Why? Why entertain the change at all? And then, having entertained it, why go back when the reasoning is indisputable?

On the Doylist level, I think Endo wanted to ensure that Anya had some agency within the set up — Endo also does this with Yor. It would be much harder to be on Twilight’s side fully, or to trust him on an ethical level/take him as any sort of moral authority, if he were just straightforwardly using these two people. To have them be active and consenting participants (arguably to actually be affirming the arrangement: Twilight sets it up, but Anya and Yor actually make it happen) even if the audience only knows the depth of their knowledge/motivations/etc currently, shifts the power dynamic in important ways.

But it also the set up tells us important things about Twilight. He is largely impatient, cold, detached in chapter one. His overarching feelings towards Anya are, I think, real annoyance, real confusion, and real impatience. He just doesn’t understand this damn kid and it turns out she’s a person which is frankly unacceptable — he’d needed and anticipated an automaton, ideally of himself in miniature form. (Though I think one could ponder whether Twilight was, in many ways, an automaton himself at this point, but that's maybe for another meta 🙃)

He’s not entirely unmoved of course — we're given to understand he’s affected when Franky tells him how many times Anya’s been adopted and returned, and isn't amused by Franky's joke about names. Franky's comment — "Just don't get attached" — reinforces this. The prospect of “the future” perturbs Twilight when he’s reading the parenting books. His initial reaction to Anya’s kidnap is horror. All these are true too.

Then there’s also this, from earlier in the chapter:

It’s exposition, yeah, and it’s also exposing. "Hopes" and "joys" are very specific words to describe those events. It could simply have been "A marriage? An ordinary life?" but describing them as such — hope for marriage; joy in ordinary life — expose something of what Twilight feels about those two experiences and, on the flipside, they expose what he deems he's lacking. No hopes of intimacy; no joy in (an ordinary) life. There's an argument as well, of course, that he's being ironic but I don't think that actually invalidates the above analysis. Drawing attention to 'hope' and 'joy' at all are revealing, regardless of Twilight's tone in thinking of them. I think it's also interesting this panel, taken in conjunction with a pair of panels in chapter 62, Twilight's backstory. The above is almost a pulled out version of this below panel of Twilight's recollection of his childhood, and of course the returning image of not just a rubbish bin but a rubbish bin on fire when it comes to disposing of his identity:

Back to Strix. Both his final interaction with Karen and the whole everything of the framing of Strix is making Twilight think (and feel, ahem) things that he hasn't for some time. Twilight decides, I’m reworking this. It can’t proceed this way. Not because Anya is a pain in his ass, not because she’s not as (apparently) intellectually advanced as he’d originally thought, not even because he thinks he can find another child who would better be exactly what mission parameters called for. No:

And what changes his mind is Anya asking to come home.

One of the important parts of this to me is this:

He seeks consent.

This moment is a keystone, I think, to understanding Twilight. It’s also more telling than he maybe realises. Twilight is decisive — we all laugh because he spirals at the drop of a hat when his daughter or wife look even mildly upset but outside those (also very telling) scenarios, he makes decisions and he pursues them. Often he makes decisions quickly. He’s a dab hand at it; it’s a large part of why he’s as good a spy as he is.

He’d decided to change Strix.

Anya asks him, in essence, not to.

So, he doesn't.

But it's wild that he entertains keeping her request at all — why? Why even entertain it? It’s dangerous; it’s impractical; there are too many moving parts outside his direct control; Anya isn’t the sort of child he’d wanted for the mission if he’d spent any time thinking about what a child might actually be like; Strix is in many ways an extremely long shot anyway, Desmond could just stop attending for reasons unknown and unrelated; etc.

So, yeah, why? Maybe because of this —

In conjunction, I often think of this moment in the cruise arc:

Twilight first naming the feeling as lonesome, and secondly tacitly conceding that he perceives Yor as a companion and that that relationship is important to him, something to be missed. What makes this for me though is that Anya calls this out "Papa's you're so sappy" and Twilight's reaction is that of someone caught-out. He doesn’t say “nuh-uh!” but he may as well have. Essentially, something landed a bit close to home, hm? Maybe some of that hope for marriage? A soupçon of joy of an ordinary life?

Twilight’s loneliness underpins many of his decisions with his family — probably without him being fully conscious of it. I think he is at least somewhat conscious of it, but also if he looks too closely... Well, best not to. I could fill this post, I think, with images that demonstrate his loneliness throughout the series; that sorrowful/pensive close-up of his eye(s) is one of the abiding motifs for Twilight throughout. I'd probably start with this one from Twilight's backstory arc:

Anya's request plays directly off his loneliness. Still though, he doesn’t immediately capitulate — he emphasises Anya’s choice. Is she sure? The last day has been scary for a child (and for him, but he's ignoring that part) and Twilight, in his increasing recognition that Anya is a person, is probably aware in the back of his mind that he hasn’t exactly been warm or welcoming or at all patient with her. Things that people respond to — he's otherwise excellent at manipulating people, so of course he understands this. So. Given she'd just had this scary experience, given he hasn't exactly been great with her: Is she sure? She wants to come home — with him?

I think the moment may get a little lost because Anya says something riffing off his own earlier thoughts and self-revelation (featuring that shadowed, lonely eye motif again!)

Were this a post about Anya, I’d talk about how it’s an important character moment for her as well by way both of demonstrating her agency/choice and also that she isn’t nearly as dumb as Twilight thinks (and the audience, maybe, also thinks).

But in my view, she didn’t actually need to say anything about it making her cry. I think she could simply have said yes in that moment and Twilight would have agreed.

Twilight’s an unreliable narrator; he’s disconnected from his heart and that shrouds his own motivations from himself — something he actually also concedes in this chapter!

And it shrouds from us just how much he actually understands himself. He’s also a master of deflection. Easy to assume or say that bringing Anya home is just to align with Strix. Nothing more to see here; nothing else going on. But also that ripping off of the mask in the panel above — and the literal 'riiip' sound effects — also indicate to us that this is an unveiling to himself.

In my view, Twilight agreeing to Anya's request, deciding to go back to original mission parameters, actually shifts his motivations, subtly. Now he’s committed not only to the original mission goals, but also to Anya. He needs Anya to succeed at Strix, not only for Strix's sake, but also because otherwise the mission will end and she’ll have to go back to the orphanage, and he’s just agreed with her not to do that (not right away, in any case). I don’t think at this point he’s thinking it’s forever — his thoughts throughout the manga indicate he still expects the Forgers to be temporary. I don't think the shift in motivation is necessarily even conscious, but given the set up, I think something inside Twilight recognises that agreeing to bring Anya home is a compact, jointly engaged. Mostly all this has become subsumed into Strix: he makes decisions. He pursues them. He deflects, even from himself. Of course it's just for the mission; this saved him the trouble of reworking it, of figuring out something else. Nothing more to see; no need to think any more on it. And to be fair to him, Strix is very high stakes, resting pretty solely on his shoulders, so of course that is, objectively, motivation enough. Why even consider beyond that?

But I personally think that to the extent he's aware of it at all, there is something else going on, that he wants to have Anya for as long as it takes him to work something else out for her. If that's the case, then of course, we have Occam’s razor: the simplest solution may be the best one.

Maybe Twilight should just keep Anya himself, eh?

[Image description: gif from Spy x Family season 1, episode 1. Twilight and Anya have just found out Anya passed her entrance exam and are overjoyed. Celebratory, Twilight picks Anya up and swoops her into the air as they smile at one another. End image description]

[hanjsquokka]

( 🎃 ) ⠀𓏔⠀ fall dates with bf! skz.

stray kids ot8 × fem!reader (separately), fluff/humor , warnings : kissing/making out in felix's, pet names , wc : 2.6k

a/n : hyunjin's is actually based on something that happened to me with my family lol 😭 one of the most disappointing days in my life. i hope you guys like this <3 also this layout is inspired by my lovely deni @.hyunebunx 🩷🩷

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ CHAN ⸻ visiting a pumpkin patch

You and Chan planned a date to visit a pumpkin patch because you've never done that before. Your boyfriend was more than excited on the drive to the location, rambling about the different activities you could do. He made sure the two of you were dressed accordingly (and matching, obviously) before you headed out to the local pumpkin patch.

Halloween was one of your favorite holidays, but this was the first time you were going to go and buy pumpkins to decorate your home with, and supposedly learn how to carve them as well, according to Chan.

The farm was bustling with many people looking for the orange vegetables, taking photos and squatting down next to the big ones to see if they could lift them up. Chan was also one of them, wanting to show off the fruits of his recent workouts and easily picked up a very large bright orange pumpkin.

“Be careful, if you drop it, we have to pay for a broken orange squash,” you warned after he stumbled with one of them. “It's not a squash… is it?” He looked at you with a bewildered expression after you told him that it was indeed part of the squash family.

Afterwards, you sampled some of the desserts available in the stalls—from pies to cakes. You managed to convince Chan to take home a pie after you had a bite and swore you could never make something like this yourself.

The farm also had a corn maze, which you participated in and got lost after a few wrong turns. You almost gave up and decided to start a new life amongst the corn when Chan spotted a few other people and not so secretly followed them, holding your hand tightly in his, and finally exited the maze.

The two of you also won second place in a pumpkin carving contest, much to your boyfriend's enthusiasm. He carried the prize winning vegetable like a trophy with a red color ribbon stuck on it all the way back to your car.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ MINHO ⸻ camping in the woods

When Minho proposed the idea of camping, you were initially scared. Camping in the woods during spooky season? But, after he teased you for being a scaredy-cat, you couldn't let him win, which was how you ended up in the middle of the woods (in an allocated camping site), watching your boyfriend set up a tent because you were going to poke a hole with your clumsiness. You didn't mind him though, because it found it much more entertaining to watch him do the work. It was very attractive.

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” He questioned when he caught your eyes on him while he was setting up the firepit. “Like what?” You asked back. “Like that stupid emoji with heart eyes.”

Unfortunately, you did not have a pillow to throw at him.

When night fell and the two of you sat side by side on foldable chairs, roasting marshmallows after your hearty campfire dinner (Minho was crazy good at everything related to camping, you wondered why he never asked to go camping with you before). “Be careful, it's hot,” he warned but you still managed to burn your mouth on the fluffy, toasted delicacy. “Idiot,” he chided. There was no malice in his words, only affection, you knew that as he took the stick away from you and handed a bottle of water.

He refrained from telling you a scary story, instead opting to lay down next to you on a blanket and stargaze while you went on and on about the constellations or whatever—he was just listening to your voice and not comprehending the information. When you got back in the tent, he grumbled when you snuggled up next to him, something about giving him even less space, but you smiled against his skin when you felt his arms coil around you and pull you close.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ CHANGBIN ⸻ go halloween shopping

Your boyfriend was going all out this year for the holiday, you understood that after the second hour you spent at the store, watching him sift through decorations for your home and for the party he wanted to host on the weekend.

“Bin… it's been hours and you picked out two things!” You groaned, pushing the shopping cart after him. The two things were two packets of chocolates. “I can't just buy anything. It has to be perfect, babe,” he retaliated, picking up a skeleton decoration and plopping it in the cart. Your date wasn't going as you expected, but amidst your frustration, you did find it endearing that Changbin was being so picky about find the perfect stuff.

You also managed to scare him with those jump scare witch things that suddenly pop out with you step on a button. You were laughing so hard your stomach hurt, which made Changbin annoyed, poking you to stop you from making his cheeks turn even more red.

Eventually you did stop and you continued strolling down the aisles. “Okay, Sexy Red Riding Hood and the Wolf,” he said, showing a costume, “Buff Peter Pan and Tinkerbell,” he picked up the last one, “or Barbie and Ken except I'm Barbie.” He smiled like those were the best choices. You let him choose, all of them equally amusing to you, to which he let out a happy giggle and put the third one into the shopping cart. You rolled your eyes, of course, and followed after him. He did finish his endless spree, and apologized for making you tail after him for so long by taking you to a coffee shop and buying you the season specials.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ HYUNJIN ⸻ driving to see the fall colors

It was your idea to go out to see the fall colors early morning on the weekend since the drive there would take a while. Hyunjin sat in the driver's seat, not exactly happy about being on the road at seven in the morning, but you told him it would be worth losing sleep. You saw multiple videos and posts on social media that told you that this was the best spot to see all the different shades of red and orange that the leaves were in, along with the rest of the scenic view and the sunset if you were able to catch it.

Well… the website was wrong. Not to be rude, but it was probably exactly the same as you could've seen in the park. Your boyfriend gave you the sassiest side eye possible when you two stood, looking over the railing along with a couple other people who joined on the trek up a mountain. The trees were mostly yellow or brown and very dull, nothing like on social media.

“My new inspiration is so… vibrant,” Hyunjin drawled. “I'm sorry!” You apologized quickly, feeling even more guilty for making him come here on his day off for absolutely nothing. “I thought it would look really pretty.” You frowned. You heard him sigh beside you before he slung an arm over your shoulder and you to his side, nuzzling his nose against your jaw. “I know… I know… It's okay. I didn't expect it to look so un-picturesque either.” He rubbed your shoulder over your coat when you frowned even more. He chuckled. “Don't frown so much, love, I like it better when you smile.”

Despite the disappointment, your day out wasn't all bad. You had fun singing (mostly listening to your boyfriend's sing) along with Hyunjin in the car with the windows down, trekking up the mountain and nearly falling into a pile of leaves, eating lunch at a place that was weirdly obsessed with grizzly bears and then driving back home.

While you were staring out the window, trying not to fall asleep at a red light, you noticed the trees, all of which were in bright shades of red and orange. You tapped Hyunjin on his shoulder and pointed to it and told him to go in the other direction that you were supposed to go in, which confused him but he followed and parked the car where you asked him to. You eagerly jumped out and dragged him along to see the trees, showing him that your date was not a total waste after all.

He painted a photo that he took of you a week later and hung it in the living room.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ JISUNG ⸻ having a harry potter movie marathon

You and your boyfriend were supposed to go to a movie theater to watch a horror film that was recently released, you'd been talking about it ever since you saw the trailer and you got even more pumped up when you saw it was releasing during the Halloween month. Jisung, however, wasn't as thrilled as you but never told you outright that he didn't want to go. But, after a few times of mentioning the film to him and not getting a enthusiastic response, you realized he might not want to watch a scary movie in the cinema (he told you he wasn't scared, but the last time you watched Coraline said otherwise).

So, on the day you were supposed to go, he was surprised to find you setting up for a movie night in the living room. “Aren't we going to be late, baby?” He asked, his steps slowing down as he neared the couch. There were snacks on the coffee table and blankets and extra pillows on the end of the couch. “What are you…?”

“Movie night,” you replied, a smile on your face. “I changed my mind. I borrowed my friend's DVD's of all the Harry Potter movies.” You watched the confusion on his face morph into a soft smile and then a big grin as he came over to hug you tightly and kiss your cheek before saying he needed to change into the proper attire—which were his Gryffindor pajamas, and settled down beside you, leaning his head on your shoulder and pressed play on the remote.

Watching these movies was much enjoyable for both of you, you realized that as you laughed along to Jisung reciting all the lines in a British accent, your face growing warm at the pure joy on his face. You made it to the fourth movie before he finally dozed off, his head lolling to the side. You carefully adjusted him so he was leaning on you and wrapped the blankets around closer before closing your eyes as well.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ FELIX ⸻ baking fall themed treats

“Chan said he bought too many pumpkins, so I'm trying out some new recipes,” Felix answered when you asked him what he was doing in the kitchen surrounded by an ungodly number of pumpkins and a few apples and a king ingredients. Which was how the two of you ended up in an impromptu baking date, making more desserts than you could eat in a day.

You worked side by side, although you weren't getting much work done because he kept tugging your hand and kissing you, flour sticking to your cheeks when he cupped your face and deepened the kiss. Safe to say, you were doing less baking, more making out, all thanks to Felix even though it was him who wanted to bake in the first place.

When the pumpkin cake was finally done, he slathered on buttercream before handing it to you and looked at you with hopeful eyes, you could practically see the tail wagging behind him as he awaited your opinion. You took a spoonful and immediately felt a warm tingle spread through your body.

“It's so good,” you let out a sound of satisfaction, closing your eyes for a few moments to savor the taste, and then eating some more. “I was scared you might've messed something up with how distracted you were.” You pushed the plate towards him, expecting him to eat as well, but he just pulled you in for another kiss, making you gasp into his mouth. “Tastes sweet,” Felix said with a nod, wiping his bottom lip with his thumb, looking at your flustered reaction with a smirk.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ SEUNGMIN ⸻ going to a haunted house

“This is a bad idea,” you said nervously as Seungmin pulled you towards the carnival attraction. Your local carnival had a haunted house set up since it was October, and while you had joked it was be fun to go there, Seungmin didn't seem to read your tone and took you seriously, pulling you along after spending some time at the game booths. “It's not scary, okay?” He said, chuckling at the way you looked at it with wide eyes. “Just hold onto me if you get scared.”

The haunted house was not not scary. It was in fact very scary. Whoever designed it needed a raise because not three steps into the house and you nearly jumped out of your skin as a ghost popped up in front of you. Even your boyfriend was frightened, you felt him jump a little, not as much as you, but he did jump. He cleared his throat, adjusting his coat and shook his head. “See, totally not scary. We must've triggered a wire.” You couldn't see his face because it was pretty dark, but he didn't pull away when you laced your fingers with his and held him in a death grip.

You took small steps, rounding a corner when there yet another jumpscare and you basically climbed onto Seungmin out of fear. There were no teasing remarks or comments, he was just quiet as you both kept going through the house. There was eerie music playing that just kept getting louder and louder, until you passed by a room, the door opening by itself with a loud creak and suddenly, a clown jumped at you. This time, both of you screamed.

When you exited the horror house, you both didn't speak a word until you were sitting down on a bench far away and mutually agreed to not speak a word of the incident again.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ JEONGIN ⸻ attending a costume party

There was no compromise with Jeongin. He would go all our for a costume party, especially since the one you were going to was hosted by one of his friends who said he had the best costume ever. Jeongin wasn't one to back down from a challenge, so he told you the characters you were going to dress up as, which made you raise a brow.

Beetlejuice and his wide Lydia.

In retrospect, it was a creative costume. You both spent a long time making the costume by yourselves and then the makeup on the day of the party.

“I feel like we're going to stand out,” you said, feeling hesitant to walk into the house. “Babe, it's a Halloween party. Everyone will stand out.” Jeongin assured you and led you inside. There were a lot of people, all dressed up just like he said they would, from old classics to characters from newer films. Many complimented the both of you, envious of your idea. Jeongin totally forgot about the competition with his friend and started enjoying himself, having drinks and dancing with you. He didn't know it, but his friend took one look and accepted his defeat (or whatever). There was a couples contest, in which both of you won first place, earning a large bag of candy.

But your boyfriend was too tipsy and busy staring at you with heart eyes to bother with the prize and instead was eager to get out of the party so he could have a proper look at his wife (he was taking the role a little too seriously) back home.

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[hellenhighwater]

Hi! I’m considering going to law school because it seems like something that would be really fulfilling to me— the main thing in my way is that I have a really bad stutter, and I’m not sure how that would affect the whole. Being A Lawyer? It seems like a lot of public speaking, which I would be reasonably confident with if only my mouth was caught up to the program 😅 So I just wondered what your take is, as somebody who Does That, on how difficult that would be!

I actually know two different attorneys who have stutters, both of whom are practicing successfully. One has chosen a role where she just doesn't do very much courtroom practice--mostly research and appellate briefing, so her job is mostly written work. Little to no public speaking! There's actually quite a few jobs like that in the legal field.

Another is a trial attorney, and he does stutter during his cases; it doesn't magically go away. But it's fine. He makes compelling arguments. Daily life in the courtroom also sometimes includes people who require interpreters, people who are Deaf, children, and any number of other individuals who may result in a slightly slower proceeding than might otherwise happen; the system accepts everyone as participants, even on the attorney side of things. People sometimes complain about this kind of stuff, but that is because those people are assholes.

I know that for some, their stutters worsen when they're uncomfortable, and the first few times you appear on the record is definitely uncomfortable, but it's also something you get used to with time. Yeah, it's public speaking, but actually a lot of it is very conversational and eventually it's just not that big of a deal.

It's worth noting that in many states, mine included, there's no oral component to passing the Bar. You may wind up arguing in law school, but the Bar is a written test.

[makingspiritualityreal]

9th and 12th Houses - How Far is Foreign?

An insight, that adds to depth of understanding of Astrology through diving into Vedic resources is the change in perception between the 12th and the 9th house.

In popular Astrology circles, both of these houses are commonly associated with foreign lands. However, as you explore the meaning of these houses more, you begin to understand them deeper in polarity with their opposite.

The actual house of foreign, far away travel (or relocation, depending on the chart) is the 9th house. That is because the 9th house is the opposite of the 3rd house.

Say you are European, and you lived your whole life in Europe, and you travelled around different European countries to explore the continent. This is the 3rd house. It is the expansion beyond your local home country into exploring its nearest cultural environment, and at the end of such a pilgrimage, you end up with a personal understanding of your individual, cultural identity, which moves you to its emotional interpretation in the 4th house.

But then lets say you travel or move from Europe to Asia, either of the American continents, Australia…take your pick. This is the activation of the 9th house. Because you are no longer exploring just the back yard of a culture with a certain degree of similarity, you are entering a completely new physical world.

This is why houses 9, 10 and 11, and 12th to an extent, are found in charts of famous people. You need to be able to participate in an energy, an idea, that is going to spread into foreign lands to truly be famous. This applies even if we’re talking about online success, which is the way people get recognition nowadays. Otherwise, you are at best a local singer on your continent or your country’s music festival. There is nothing wrong with that of course, as many people love to contribute to their community and they’re happy doing so, but it’s still an accurate observation. You need to be able to go far away, not strictly physically but energetically, to touch a variety of people from many cultures.

You might wonder, how does the 12th house fit into this? Clearly, it’s part of the whole 9th, 10th, 11th and 12th house group, so it should also rule foreign lands. But the 12th house is actually more than that. The 12th house rules a fantastical, foreign idea, that might not necessarily be grounded in the immediate physical, but is nevertheless energetically real and can be accessed from anywhere. It’s the idea of the collective emotional consciousness, that may not have the most quick and obvious material manifestation but is nevertheless a very real thing existing within this Universe.

Up until the 11th house, through 9th and 10th, we are dealing with more or less tangible ideas regarding foreign lands. Let’s say in the 9th house you relocated to a completely foreign culture, in the 10th house you found a way to tangibly join the most prominent physical environment of the world through that culture, in the 11th house you met some of the most prominent, affluent people in the world. I don’t have any 11th house planets, but to give you an idea of how it works, my husband has Venus conjunct Mars in the 11th house, we live in the Las Vegas area, and he plays sports and is casually friendly with some of the wealthiest people in the world, who own successful businesses, own several properties across the world, and spend a lot of their time either making a lot of money or travelling the world, or both. We are not one of those people, but it should give you an idea of what the 11th house is. It’s the creme de la creme of the physical world. I don’t personally interact much with these people, as they are my husband’s friends, not mine, and I don’t play sports with them, but I have a deep awareness of how advanced socially and financially this particular group is, having travelled to many poorer parts of the world. There are people in this world, starving, so in comparison to them, the 11th house society is the top 1% of 1%.

You might think, well, the 11th house is everything, so how can the 12th house be more? The 12th house is more because it sells something even the 11th house people can’t resist, it sells the ultimate fantasy.

In the 12th house we move on to people so wealthy, they barely even interact with others. We move to intangible concepts, physical areas and objects, that provoke people to spend obscene amounts of money simply due to some idea. The 12th house is not just real foreign travel like the 9th house, it is the embodiment of the realisation of all fantasies. That is why Venus is so happy in the 12th house, because it enjoys the ultimate idea of fantastical luxury.

The foreign area that we travel to in the 12th house is not this globe, it is deep inside us. By the time we realise all our fantasies in the 11th house we can feel tired, or even jaded. But in the 12th house we are stimulated to all of our secret, hidden desires being provoked and coming true. This can be done not only within our home, within our room, but completely within our minds. Those, who are successful in the 12th house are those, who made those fantasies concrete enough to realise them and live within them.

What if you could taste and smell the finest perfume created on this planet from purely natural oils? What if you could touch the finest fabrics, created in corners of the world you never even dreamed of? What if you could live this dream, every day, surrounded by an infinite kaleidoscope of the pinnacle of perfection achieved by our planet until this time? “What if?” is the exotic, “foreign”, “far away” dream of the 12th house, and a well realised 12th house is a dream come true.

To offer up an example, in the last few years, youtubers living in rural areas from all over the world have popped up on the internet, offering videos from their seemingly idyllic life. That is the definition of the 12th house fantasy, devoid of the actually reality of having to take the 9th house physical pilgrimage of travelling to rural China and enduring all the difficulties involved with facing the reality of such a location. It may seem idealised, yet the source material for filming is real, so while it may be distant from the viewers geographically, while it may cost the locals a lot of work, it is nevertheless part of an actual, existing reality.

This dream, that can seem excessive to a mundane mind, becomes even clearer in the context of the 12th house’s polarity, the 6th house. The 6th house is the tough battle of dealing with the ugliness and conflict of this world. That is the reality of this physical world for most of us, we get up every day and deal with conflicts, that we have in front of us. It is exhausting, and so the 12th house is everything that heals and soothes the pain of any conflict that ravaged us in the 6th house. It’s the world offering no resistance, it’s all boundaries being breached. After all, in our dreams, or fantasies, we want everything to be perfect and smooth.

Ironically enough, the karaka of the 12th house is Saturn. As someone with significant 12th house influence, it is pretty clear to me why. In order to have only the finest dream come true, to really live in a beautiful fantasy, one actually needs to do a lot of research, be picky, critical and have background expertise and know-how. Otherwise, even as just a consumer, you would be easily fooled, hoodwinked into a fake product, or end up overpaying on something, that is not worth the money you invest into it. Scrutiny of Saturn is necessary for our fantasies to be smooth. It is not something, that is given to us that easily. Saturn also rules isolation, and if the 9th house is foreign, the 12th house is the pinnacle of remote. The 9th house is what is foreign and exciting to us, mentally and physically, but the 12th house represents the most remote corners of both the physical world, and our minds.

This is why the 12th house is the furthest away from the 1st house, our basic, natural, physical life. Because the furthest thing on this planet is not just a foreign continent, it’s a journey inside our minds and emotions, the ability to blend discernment and internal surrender to divine perfection, that leads to manifestation. It is the full depth of untapped potential on the very bottom of our subconscious, a research and response to all collective energetic resources available on the planet, a gold mine waiting to be explored, exploited, and enjoyed. And it is tapping into this gold mine, that has the power to tempt, seduce, and attract people from all around the world into directing their energy towards us, even if we’re physically just sitting in our room, far away from them.

[54625]

I miss kelp cocaine

I miss everyone congregating at Phil and Missa's, I miss Roier's over exaggerated moan every time he and Cellbit kissed, I miss everyone throwing their balaclavas on and going "passa tudo...", Tubbo's constant grilling of Fit and Pac (especially Fit), Mike's hairdressing, everyone singing the Pac e Mike wow wow song, Gegg, the admins striking people with lightning perfectly on cue, the Foolish cheating allegations, Slime and Mariana traumatising their viewers, Dorime playing randomly, people turning eachother rainbow coloured with the rainbow jelly, Dapper randomly pulling out all kinds of crazy creatures from his backpack, the extremely overwhelming pre-event meet ups, Las Casualonas, the casualonas dance, Sunny's materialism, Etoiles telling everyone how and why their armour and weapons aren't actually optimised, Phil breaking the fourth wall, Baghera and her fish joke, Rubius abusing his creative power, Foolish ruining the tension during serious moments, Cellbit obsessing over every lore lead or clue, Roier and his hilarious PNG builds, Felps "finally being added to the server", Fit always looking after Mariana's builds in his absence, everyone playing hide and seek, Cucurucho spying on and jumpscaring everyone, Quackity constantly being made fun of for his dead kid, Phil and Fit's aggressive "friendly" flirting, Cellbit talking over Richas' shoulder while he's painting, Leonarda's spoiledness, Ramón's obsession with the citric acid cycle, Slime's ability to show up for an event out of nowhere and just completely derail everything, new players always freaking out about Fit's voice, Quackity desperately trying to find a match since day 1 and always failing, Maximus' talk show, people teleporting in and out at just the right second, Jaiden's love for Hatsune Miku infecting the server, Bad and Foolish's encounters, Ramón threatening to blow himself up or digging himself into the ground when he doesn't get his way, Tallulah drowning herself when she doesn't get her way, the hilarious mistranslations, the wonderful screenshots, Vegetta's mines, Jaiden's expanding list of nationalities, Antoine being an enigma, the in-game karaoke place, Bobby starting fights, Juanaflippa dying over and over, Empanada trauma dumping about her first death to Bagi, Cellbit's vivo turbo ad, Bad yelling "language!", Pol and Foolish and Mouse not being able to stop laughing around each other, Pierre and Max's damn furry club, "no mames!", Spreen leaving for cigarettes, Bad stealing furniture, Missa being incomprehensibly cringefail (I will never forget that "bucket clutch"), Felps' hole, Tubbo's bigger hole, Mike going crazy that one time, Chayanne whipping out his cooking utensils, "Fofoca!", Pomme being the French Sniper, Pepito being homeless for a sec? Richarlyson's many personalities and characters, Tilin being "la tres leches", Trump even being called Trump to begin with, Cucuruchito flirting with everyone, dozens of plots to break into various federation buildings, hundreds of rule breaks, DanTDM being theorised to be Bagi's missing brother, Etoiles' love-hate relationship with the codes, Kameto going out for milk, Tina's heavily one sided rivalry with Fit, everyone changing their skins for events and some people being so extra with it, things falling into chaos every time an event needed them to travel a long distance together, the messy group photos, Charlie's grief spirals, people meeting up at Spreen's bar way back when, everyone making an effort to speak languages they don't speak, the sharing of international memes, the teaching of swear words, the joy that was born from the interconnectivity.

Just all of the things, dumb, hilarious, or adorable. The moments, bits and little jokes that made the QSMP so engaging, fun and entertaining to watch. That made you feel like you were participating in one massive celebration. I miss it.

[dear-ao3]

Hi! Quick question, but I'm wondering if this would even be possible. I'm working on my master's thesis about Fanfiction vs. Traditional Books, and I'm exploring the topic of why some readers gravitate toward fanfiction and generally the idea of creative very often nonprofit writing. My question to cut it short basically is: when I get to my own research and survey part (probably in a couple of months lmfao), would it be possible for me to send my survey link throu here to yall to gather data from people who are actually involved in the fanfic space? (because i think if i drop it only on my other platforms i'll get mainly the traditional bookworms to answer the survey and have them as the main research participants and i really want to give us fanfic lovers a place to show off a bit). It's okay if y'all dont want to do things like that tho!

oh yeah definitely sure. not sure how many people follow me anymore for fanfic purposes lol but ill post it!

[malaierba]

I kinda do believe that Toshiro IS afraid of being head of his household.

He's barely made any decisions of his own his whole life. Only time he did was to save someone he cared about. He's too used to the comfort of obedience, I think he believes it absolves him of participating in the activities of a household that does things in a way he disagrees with.

What kind of things you ask? Mainly how those bound to it are treated, I think:

He's angry at Maizuru when he learns about the flying hag that chased him as a kid being her doing.

He let's Izutsumi/Asebi go. There's two translations going around of the scene where Maizuru informs him that she's missing. I've seen bilingual Japanese users on twitter say that the one where he goes "She'll find her way back if she wants to" is more appropriate, it carries the intention of him letting her go. Saying "just leave her" is probably what a native English speaker assumed to be the more straightforward intention.

When he tells Laios about how Tade was probably in a very bad situation because she saw his dad (who he doesn't respect at all) as a saviour he says "I wanna speak to her". He doesn't because, passivity man, but, I get the feeling he wanted to tell her "he's still not a good person, Tade". I get the feeling he'd allow her to leave after Izutsumi if they were ever in a situation where he can actually be the decision maker.

He apologises to his party for dragging them down to confront the Faligon. Remember how that was all of those guyses first death in a dungeon? I've said this but. Man saw them get wipped. Childhood friend AND mom figure died in front of his eyes, and I know that's normal in a dungeon, but jeez. His mom-adjacent figure. His "MOM". idk I'd be messed up, unrelated but I think Laios is definitely suppressing how much it affected him to see Falin be eaten, be turned, be stabbed, etc etc. He's definitely an "I'll focus on problem solving to avoid looking at my emotions" type of guy.

During the fight he asks Laios "what about me is strong?". If you'll remember, Laios said that in the original party, Toshiro was in charge of finding an opening and dealing the killing blows. I wonder if he felt burdened, responsible for their failure then?

If he takes failure that hard when he's just following orders, I can see him feeling anxious about the prospect of failure when he's the one issuing them. It's probably why he comes across as so half-hearted with the whole "earn the right to be the next Head of the Clan" thing.

Not to mention, I remember seeing someone on X say, "the big gap between Toshiro and his baby brothers (13 years) is probably because Toshitsugu originally just wanted one (1) heir out of his arranged marriage to Toshiro's mom, since he actually loved Maizuru. But then he decided that Toshiro wasn't made of whatever was necessary to be a leader of their shady ass clan, so he had another two kids as backup".

If Toshiro is aware of that, fuck man, what kind of confidence is he going to have 😵

But, it's also a shame, right? Because he's explicitly empathetic. I think that's the meaning of him being shown playing with bugs as a kid, being coded as kind of softhearted. He empathises with things/beings he "shouldn't". But he's also obedient, he's always masking, so he has a hard time showing it explicitly. Honestly, the fact that he has that discussion about Tade with Laios is impressive imo, he trusts him and feels more comfortable with him than he lets on. He should NOT say the same thing to Maizuru or Hien, even though he respects them and cares for them.

If he had a bit of a spine, he'd be good for the people in the household. Probably bizarre in a way that even his dad can't predict, and maybe wouldn't like (he likes weirdos but only when it means chaos and fun it seems?). Maybe there'd be infighting. He just doesn't agree with the way his dad does too many things.

On the other hand, I also kinda think he should just take Tade and fuck off back to Melini lol. Become a bodyguard for Laios, help a bit with politics. What's for him in Wa anyway? An Estranged family and friends he doesn't fit with anymore. I think he'd be more likely to feel homesick for his friends in Melini than the Nakamoto household.

In any case I hope that Falin encouraging him to be more of an active participant of his own life has an everlasting effect on him. Even if he's afraid of shouldering that responsibility.

[aliceintheworld]

PURE ATTRACTION | JJK | TATTOO ARTIST

Pairing: TattooArtistJungkook X NaiveReader

Summary: "I shouldn't be watching a man undressing, especially not from the house next door."

Warning: Intolerance, toxic religion, parental relationship, Jungkook taking off his clothes 😮‍💨🤲 very dumb reader.

A/N: This is my first fanfic on Tumblr and my first BTS one. I know, it's embarrassing. The story isn't that great, and it probably shouldn't be the first one I post here, but the characters took on a life of their own without my consent, and I've been writing this since 2022 (fuck), so here we are. Please keep in mind that English is not my first language and that the reader is extremely annoying. See you on the next chapter! Thank You.

Next Chapter

Chapter 1

I organize the things from the bazaar as I go through the accessories spread out on the table. It's a calm easy task and I've done it more than a thousand times, so even with my eyes closed the job is done masterfully. My mother is next to me, quietly, listening to music on an old radio that she refuses to throw away. It seems that, since it's a radio she got as a teenager, the object has a deep meaning for her and she doesn't even like the thought of exchanging it for something more modern. I hum along too, trying to tune my voice in some parts where the music gets harder and the notes get higher.

Usually on the weekends, every Sunday, my mother and I go to church and the bazaar after the service, to raise money and help the pastor's project. Pastor Leen is a good man and always helps everyone in need, so this semester, during these last months of the year, he has been focusing on the animals that live on the streets. Everyone in the community who goes to church participates and helps in whatever way they can, whether through donations or fundraising, like my mother and I do. That’s why we gathered some clothes and items for the church bazaar, and with the sales, we can do our part. It's exhausting, but rewarding in the end.

During the week, I study at the university in my town and work at the library, so there's not much time for rest, but I like having a busy life. Although I know that, for some people, my idea of a busy life might not seem busy at all. At twenty-one, I’m supposedly supposed to be somewhere else in the world, enjoying my youth and partying with my friends, but strangely, I never wanted that. Whether it’s because of my mother, who always instructed me not to follow that path, or because I’m just introverted, I’ve never gone to parties or had adventures that I could look back on later. The most out-of-the-ordinary thing I've ever done was drink beer when I was eighteen and regret it the next day, feeling guilty for being influenced by a friend.

I’ve never left this town. I’ve never dated. I’ve never been to a party. I haven’t done many memorable things in life. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll regret not having these experiences someday, but I’m so tied to the way I live my life that it’s hard to change, even just a little. Habits are hard to break, whether for better or worse. I’m pulled from my thoughts when the store door opens and Mrs. Jeon walks in with a smile on her face and two heavy bags in her hands. I quickly get up intending to help her, but my mother is faster.

“Good morning, Eunji,” Mrs. Jeon greets my mother, letting out a relieved sigh as the weight of one of the bags is lifted from her hands. “Good morning, Y/N, how are you?”

“I’m fine, Mrs. Jeon. How has your week been?” I ask, taking the other bag from her. I peek inside and notice that it’s full of men’s clothes, judging by the size and the predominantly dark colors.

“Radiant, actually. My son arrived in town last night,” she says, her smile widening. I’m surprised because I didn’t know she had a son. Mrs. Jeon moved to town six years ago, and I don’t recall any son visiting her or her mentioning him. This is the first time she’s spoken about it, at least in front of me.

“Your son, Jungkook?” my mother asks, curious, and our neighbor nods, still beaming. “Doesn’t he live in Seoul?”

“Yes, he does. But he’s been expanding his business, and I invited him to visit, and coincidentally, he decided to open a branch here,” she explains, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. My mother instantly flashes a smile. An interested smile that I know all too well.

Of course, because I’ve never dated, my mother is always trying to set me up with someone. Not that I want her to. I never asked her to make all this effort, much less to convince the church ladies to introduce their sons just because I’m single. It’s embarrassing, as if I’m not capable of finding someone on my own without my mother’s help, but she doesn’t listen, even when I had an honest conversation with her asking her to stop trying to play Cupid.

"What kind of business?" my mother asks, and I try not to roll my eyes. For a woman of God, she worries way too much about money and status. It's a controversial topic that has led to arguments between us in the past.

"He's a tattoo artist. He owns a tattoo studio in Seoul," Mrs. Jeon explains with a proud smile, and my mother's face immediately turns serious. The charm of a potential son-in-law is lost. Of course, no one is ever perfect enough for her—or for me, in her eyes.

I love my mother. She’s strong, and many times I look up to her when making important decisions, but she judges people too harshly. Ever since she joined the church when I was younger, she’s changed. She changed her clothes, the way she speaks, and even her thoughts. I can’t even remember what she was like before, and even though all these changes were a support for her after my father passed away, some aspects of the situation still bothers me. The fact that she believes people are going to hell just for having different opinions and ideas is one of them. Of course, I don’t argue with her about it and rarely express my point of view. If she knew how I really thought, I’d be a princess locked in her room, with no peace and even less freedom than I already have at home.

"He's a tattoo artist?" my neighbor nods, not noticing the bitter tone in my mother's voice. I decide to step in, anticipating some sharp comment from the woman beside me.

"Mrs. Jeon, thank you so much for the clothes and for your help. Just today we had three customers, and the clothes you donated sold very quickly," I interject, changing the subject. The tension in my shoulders eases as my neighbor shifts her focus to the bag in my hands.

"Oh, no need to thank me. I want to do as much as I can to help the animals. I adopted a puppy last week and I’m in love!" she says, placing her hands on her cheeks with joy, and I can’t help but smile. Mrs. Jeon is one of the few older people from the church that I enjoy talking to.

"What’s his name?"

"Gureum. He’s an angel," she says, forming the small size of the puppy with her hands.

"Gureum? Don’t tell me he’s all white," I guess, laughing at the name.

"He is!" she laughs with me, jingling the keys in her hand. "Anyway, I hope we get plenty of donations this month. I can't wait to see the results of our work."

"That’s true, Misuk. This month the winter will be harsher, so we have to act more quickly this year," my mother continues, and the conversation shifts to the church project. I feel more relieved as the minutes pass and Mrs. Jeon leaves. Not because of her, of course, but because of the situation itself. My mother is very straightforward and usually says what she thinks, no matter who it hurts. I don’t want my relationship with our neighbor to be ruined just because my mother doesn’t know how to hold her tongue.

"Did you hear what she said?" Eunji asks, her eyes wide, one hand on her chest as if she’s deeply shocked. "Her son is a tattoo artist! Do you think he has those awful marks all over his body?"

"Probably, Mom," I sigh, trying to focus on the clothes Mrs. Jeon just brought. "And Mom, don’t talk like that. She’s our neighbor."

"Even so! Y/N, that only happens when parents don’t know how to properly guide their children. How can a mother, who goes to church, let her son go down such a horrible path in life?"

"We don’t know how her son lives, and it’s none of our business, Mom!" I try to keep calm as I fold a large black T-shirt, but then I remember that before organizing the items, we have to wash them, and I couldn’t be happier about that.

Usually, the clothes are washed at our house, and my mother still has to stay at the bazaar for a while longer. Honestly, I don’t want to be around her listening to how good of a mother she was just because I go to church and don’t have a tattoo on my arm. It irritates me, and it’s hard not to let her notice, but for the sake of peace, I try my best, nodding and agreeing with all the nonsense she says.

"Mom, I’m going to take all these things home and get everything ready for the bazaar, okay?" I try to force a smile, but my face feels stiff. My head is throbbing, and I can’t wait to get home. I’ve been out of my room all day, and there’s nothing more exhausting than that, at least for me. She murmurs in agreement, probably annoyed that she can't keep talking badly about Mrs. Jeon’s son, but I don’t care and just leave.

I regret it a little halfway home because the bags are heavy, and even though the distance isn’t long, it’s hard to carry all the clothes by myself. I arrive home out of breath. The sky is overcast, with dark gray clouds covering it, but I’m sweating as if I just ran a marathon. I laugh a bit at my lack of fitness, promising myself that I’ll start the morning walks I keep putting off, and I head to the laundry room to start organizing the clothes.

When I open the bag, I’m surprised by the items. Not only are they of good quality, but I’m also certain they don’t belong to Mr. Jeon. He dresses well, but not in this style. I can hardly imagine him wearing black jeans or a heavy jacket. I’m intrigued by who the owner might be, but I don’t waste time pondering it, too tired to unravel mysteries that aren’t even important. I leave the laundry room once everything is organized and head to my room, throwing myself onto the bed.

My room isn’t particularly special or different, but what I love the most about it is the bookshelf filled with books covering almost the entire wall. It was my dream from a young age to get a job and buy every book I was interested in, and luckily, that’s been possible since I started working at the library. It’s the perfect job for me, even if it’s temporary. I’m studying literature to become a teacher, and I can’t wait to start working in my dream job.

I sigh and pull my phone out of my dress pocket, too lazy to take off my clothes and go shower. I groan, placing my hands over my face, knowing there’s no escaping it after being out of the house all day. There’s no way I’m going to bed like this. Reluctantly, I get up and untie my hair, which falls in waves, heavy against my neck.

I bend down to grab the hem of my dress and start pulling it up, feeling even more tired. Today was such a long day. I can’t wait to go to bed and sleep until tomorrow. I take off my socks, lifting one foot behind the other, and as I head to the towel inside the wardrobe next to the bed, I unhook the bra that’s been bothering me all day. The relief is so immense that I let out a sigh, touching my breasts with my fingers and playing with my nipple, hardened by the cold air.

On my way to the bathroom, I stop and look at the window when I notice that the neighbor’s window—the one that had never been opened until now—is, in fact, wide open. I need a few seconds to realize that there’s someone on Mrs. Jeon’s balcony, and worse, it’s not her on the other side. It’s a man. The most handsome man I’ve ever seen in my life.

I hide behind the bookshelf in my room, afraid that he might think I’m spying on him, but for some reason, I keep watching him with curiosity, hypnotized by the way he moves around the room and among the furniture. His dark, wavy hair falls over his face when, out of nowhere, he starts pulling his shirt over his back, taking it off lazily while focusing on the phone in his hands. He gives a small smile, almost as if he subconsciously knows the effect he’s having on me. My heart beats hard against my chest, and my breathing quickens; my mind fills with fantasy images of his pink lips and large, seemingly soft hands.

He is... gorgeous. Different. With tattoos all over his body. One of his arms is completely covered in designs, and his chest is adorned with images that I can’t quite make out. My mouth waters as my eyes roam over his strong back and shoulders. His pale skin glows under the dim light of the yellow lamp, and it’s hard to catch my breath. It’s like observing a work of art. A forbidden work of art, I know. It’s wrong. But I can’t convince my mind that I should stop. The man, still a stranger, smiles at his phone as the screen lights up his face. Unlike his body, which exudes sensuality and is intimidating, his smile is sweet and gentle, and the most charming I’ve ever seen. He tosses the phone onto the bed, unbuckling the leather belt around his waist and deftly undoing the buttons of his jeans. That’s when the trance that literally had me delirious breaks. I slam the window shut, desperate at my own madness.

What was I doing? How could I have seen a stranger stripping like a complete pervert? I feel so bad, guilty for having crossed the line and done something as wrong as this. I gulp, covering my face with my hands. I let out a tortured sigh and feel my heart racing uncontrollably. I am sweating, as if I had done a heavy workout, when in fact, I had been standing still the entire time. I peek through the gaps in my window to see the room in Mr. Jeon's house, but I can't see anything anymore and I don't have the courage to open the curtains and try to look at the man again.

It's the first time in many years that I have felt something like this. Could it be desire? I can't remember the last time I felt anything like this. I recall having a small and first crush on a boy at school, something innocent, when I didn't even know what it meant to like someone romantically or as a friend. This was, throughout my life, the only consistent experience in recent years. It scares me that suddenly I feel something different for someone, even if it's minimal. I let out a sigh and cover my face, embarrassed by my own behavior. To make things worse, I'm not even wearing clothes. I rush to the bathroom and close the door, staring at myself in the mirror. I am so dazed that even my cheeks are dark red. I close my eyes tightly and head to the shower, trying to let the water wash away my thoughts. It doesn't work. I spend the whole night gazing at my bedroom window, full of images that I can't forget or erase.

I have a normal day after the almost exhausting night. I study in the morning about different approaches with children on the autism spectrum, which I find completely interesting and complex, and then I work in the afternoon at the college library on campus. This is actually great because I can study even during my work hours with free access to all available books, which has saved my life in recent months. The first semester of classes was tough, but this second one has been terrible, with piled-up assignments and deadlines that are almost impossible to meet, at best. My life has revolved around this routine, and the ordeal of exams hasn't even started. On my way home, I stop at a convenience store to buy something to eat and bike towards my house, which, honestly, isn’t very far but is extremely tiring.

I get home exhausted, collapsing on the sofa almost immediately. My mother appears from the kitchen with a serious face and a tense expression, as if something very grave had happened.

"You won't believe who invited us to dinner." she comments, placing one hand on her hip.

"Who?" I ask, just out of courtesy. Besides not being hungry, I'm not interested in the subject, too stressed with college stuff to pay attention to my mother.

"Misuk."

"And what's the problem, Mom?" I roll my eyes. Until yesterday, my mother had no problem with our neighbor, and now she acts like the woman is forbidden or not good enough to be her friend.

"Did you forget, YN?" she asks, crossing her arms. "Her son, the one from Seoul, will be at the dinner."

I turn pale, my mouth dry. How could I have forgotten this? College has consumed all my thoughts during the day, but I would never forget that man. The man I saw through the window is Mrs. Jeon's son, I suppose. I concluded this after spending the whole night mulling over my thoughts and reliving that body and face, which I can’t even recall without blushing. I’ve already eaten at college and feel satisfied, but the first thing I do when my mother mentions the dinner is smile.

"I’ll go with you." I affirm, unsure. If my heart raced so much from a distance of Mr. Jeon's son, I can't imagine what will happen if I see him up close. But I'm so curious that I can't avoid it. I want to see him. I want to prove that everything I felt last night wasn’t just a product of my imagination tainted by romance novels.

"The truth is, I wanted to cancel the dinner."

"You didn't cancel, did you?" I ask, trying not to sound too desperate. My mother shakes her head, which makes me sigh with relief.

"No, but I'm curious about the guy. I want to see what he's like and make a better judgment about him. I just ask that you don’t get involved with that kind of person. He’s a tattoo artist and lives alone, so young. Who knows what he does alone in a city like Seoul." she says, and I agree with a noise in my throat.

I’m also curious about him, Mom, but not for the same reason as you. I stay silent as I go upstairs to my room. I look for some slightly nicer clothes without much expectation but I don’t have anything different from conservative or old. I feel sad for no reason and convince myself that it doesn’t matter what I choose to wear; a man like the one I saw last night will never be interested in me, no matter what I put on. I quickly shower, then, after my mom calls me from downstairs, I look at myself in the mirror, staring at the dark blue dress that goes down to just below my knees. I roll my eyes and simply go, with little enthusiasm.

My mom has a bowl with a freshly baked cake, and after saying it's for the neighbors, we head out. It’s the house next door, but the short walk feels like an eternity to me. My heart races as we approach, and I let my mom lead the way, walking ahead. She knocks on the door with three taps, and we don’t wait long before Mr. Jeon appears. He’s a man in his fifties, but very handsome and friendly, wearing a long-sleeve shirt and comfortable house slippers. He smiles at both of us, still holding the doorknob and giving us space to enter.

"Good evening, Eunji, good evening, Y/N." he greets us. I nod, a little embarrassed. Unlike Mrs. Jeon, I don’t see him often, as he is very busy with work and doesn’t attend church regularly.

"Good evening, Yejun."

"Good evening, Mr. Jeon. Thank you for having us." I smile, genuinely grateful. I truly like the couple, as every time I see them, they always treat me very well.

"What a polite girl, isn’t she?" he says to my mother in a joking tone, then looks at me kindly. "You don’t need to thank us. We love having you two here. Please come in and make yourselves comfortable."

"I brought a cake for after dinner." my mom says with a smile. "Where is Misuk? I want to give it to her."

"She’s in the kitchen, finishing organizing things. Shall we go there?"

I follow them in silence, having little to do. My mom is more accustomed to the environment, as she comes here a few times for church meetings. I take a few steps toward the kitchen when a noise on the stairs catches my attention. Then he appears, and like magic, everything I felt before resurges, ten thousand times worse. I catch my breath as I see him slowly descending the stairs. He is much taller than me and different from what I imagined, now up close.

His eyes are dark, bright and large, which strangely complements his sharp jawline. His lips are a beautiful pink that makes me run my tongue over my mouth, enchanted by their apparent softness. Pink is now my favorite color. He exudes a powerful aura with his heavy clothes and his body built like a big mountain towering over me, but when he smiles, I am captivated. His smile is sweet, friendly, and inviting, making me want to get closer. However, the thing that catches my attention the most is the eyebrow piercing. My God. What a man.

"Hello, how are you?" he says with a boyish smile, and I blush instantly. I try to maintain a mantra in my mind, repeating several times: calm down, calm down, calm down! "My name is Jungkook, are you my mother’s neighbor?"

"Y-yes." I stammer and almost instinctively close my eyes, frustrated with myself. He smiles even more, squinting his dark eyes as if he finds me amusing.

"Nice to meet you. What’s your name?" he asks with a soft voice, and I feel embarrassed for not having said my name earlier.

"My name is Y/N. Nice to meet you." This time I don’t stammer, but I speak so quietly that I fear he might not have heard me.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N. My mom talks a lot about you." he says, confirming that yes, he did hear me.

I open my mouth to try to say something, but suddenly my mother appears. I don’t know whether to feel relieved or disappointed. I wanted more chances to talk and discover new things about him, but all I was managing to do was look like an idiot who hasn’t left the house in years, completely antisocial. My shoulders slump, and I follow my mother to the dining room in silence, feeling embarrassed. I can almost feel Jungkook’s presence behind me, but I don’t have the courage to turn around and glimpse his expression. I almost automatically remember him taking off his clothes, showing the tattoos that are now hidden, and I flush even more, almost choking on my own saliva.

"Good evening, Y/N!" Mrs. Jeon smiles at me, already seated at the table. I feel guilty for almost drooling over her son earlier but I smile, greeting her in the same way.

"Good evening, Mrs. Jeon. The smell of the food is delicious, as always." I say, seeing the vegetables on the table and the meat next to it that looks divine. If I hadn’t eaten earlier, I’d be attacking the food, with respect, of course.

"Always so sweet, Y/N." she smiles. "Please, have a seat. Jungkook, sit next to her." she requests. I try to not choke again, just nodding, watching the man I am incredibly attracted to sit to my right side.

His parents and my mom engage in a lively conversation, and I try to pay attention in case they ask me something, but the truth is, I can’t follow along at all. Jungkook eats in silence and occasionally answers my mother’s questions, which I’m sure are meant to gather more material for judgment when we get home, but I can’t follow any of the reasoning. Besides being handsome, polite and kind, he also smells good.

With the clothes he wears and the tattoos decorating his body, I would swear his perfume would be woody and strong, but it’s quite the opposite. His scent reminds me of spring, or nature like a field full of flowers. It’s a scent I could absorb all day. Lost in thought while I play with the fork on my plate and the cabbage kimchi I served myself, I don’t notice him coming closer to me and my ear. My whole body shivers with his breath. I try to not make it too obvious, but I think it’s in vain since I hear his soft laugh even closer to my neck.

"Do you want to go to the kitchen, Y/N?" Jungkook asks in a whisper so close that I look around just to make sure no one is watching, especially my mother, who seems to have already formed a prejudiced opinion about him.

"Why?" I ask in a whisper, confused.

"I want to ask you something." he smiles crookedly, which makes me even more disturbed. I nod, still unsure about what I’m agreeing to. He quickly stands up, and I almost instantly follow him. When we get to the kitchen, he turns around quickly, watching me attentively, crossing his arms over his chest.

"W-what do you want to ask me?" I swallow nervously.

"I was thinking whether I should talk to you about this, but after meeting you tonight, I think it’s for the best, anyway." he says with a serious face. His previously relaxed attitude changes completely, as if all the fun from earlier had drained away.

I become worried, my mind filled with questions, until something occurs to me. What if last night, somehow, he realized I was watching him? My body turns to jelly at the thought, and my heart beats faster as I look at his face. I would die, seriously. I would fall to the ground and never wake up again. My hands tremble as I wait for his question.

"Are you and my mother very close?" he asks in a whisper, this time with a weak voice, looking at his own intertwined hands. I nod in agreement, even more confused. Since Mrs. Jeon moved to my city, we’ve become something like friends, despite the significant age difference. I consider her, even if mistakenly, like a mother.

"Yes. I think we have a close relationship. Why the question?" he shifts uncomfortably. He tries to smile but can’t. I am worried but silent, waiting for his answer.

"My mother is sick, Y/N." he says quietly, with a weak voice. My eyes widen at the news. I never imagined this is what he wanted to talk to me about. From his seriousness, it seems to be something very grave. "That’s why I came to the city. She had depression years ago and last month she tried to take her own life for some reason."

"She didn’t tell anyone, I’m sure." I say as much as I can, still shaken and shocked. Mrs. Jeon seems so happy lately that I could never imagine something like this. My eyes fill with tears, but I try to contain the flood of emotions inside me, embarrassed to act this way with a previously unknown person.

"I know. I was shocked when I found out." he explains, running his fingers through his dark hair as if he were tired. "She wants to spare people from the situation, but I wish everyone could know and support her. She shouldn’t be thinking about anyone’s well-being right now, except her own. That’s why I came to Busan, to take care of her."

"I understand." I whisper with a lump in my throat. I want to take his trembling hands and assure him that everything will be okay, but I don’t have that much courage. I wish I were casual and authentic and had the ease to simply say what I’m thinking. It’s the first time that not being this way makes me upset and sad. I wish I could be someone else right now. I wish I could help more.

"I apologize for bringing this up so suddenly. I hope I haven’t ruined your evening. I’m sorry." he smiles awkwardly, puffing his cheeks, and a previously hidden dimple appears. His face turns red and I can’t help but like him even more.

"Don’t worry. Really. Thank you for telling me the truth. I want to help in any way I can. I'll try to keep her company more often."

"Thank you so much, Y/N." he smiles, with his eyes shining. "I knew it was a good idea to tell you the truth. I knew I could count on you."

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