#idk if that was their intention or if they just. looked at what they were handed and this is the only thing that worked

[satangcrush]

goodness gracious

lucifer x g!n reader, sfw, not beta-read

a/n▸ no idea if i can keep up with it but here's my day 1 entry for @om-adventcalendar. this was written in a haze so idk either. lowkey follow-up to this I think? i had no plans but I feel like it fits

The Avatar of Pride prides himself on his self-control.

He’s not delusional enough to think he’s the best at it when demons like Barbatos far outweigh him in this. But, he would like to think he’s confident enough in his control over his emotions.

Especially when you keep tempting him.

The slow drawl of your voice, the way you look at him softly when he speaks; just everything that you do. He’s lucky he has already fallen, else Father might have cast him out of the Celestial Realm for his thoughts.

.

He gets mornings like this sometimes. But somehow, it was particularly rough today. 

With his eyes closed, he almost wishes that he could just go back to sleep. Forget everything and all his responsibilities for once.

(He doesn’t. Father taught him otherwise. Responsibility is a heavy burden that he must wear.)

His limbs feel like its been filled with lead, heavy with something that he can’t quite place his finger on. Voice still half-muffled from the allure of sleep, he makes his way down the hallway to the kitchen.

“Good morning.”

He nods at you, coughing into the palm of his hands. You look at him for a moment, searching for something in his expression. He arches an eyebrow, placing a hand on the table as you slide over a mug of coffee.

“Kitchen duty?” His words sound slurred even to his own ears as he made his way around the table. There was a crick in his neck that didn’t seem to be going away.

“Correct.” You say, hip jutting out as you point the spatula at him. You’re busy, fiddling with the pan as you move about the kitchen. “Sit down there, I’ll whip something up.”

His mouth opens with the intent of rejecting your offer but you pin him with a pout. He sits down at the end of the table.

“Where are the rest?” His mind hadn’t cleared up enough to separate dreams from reality, and his eyes dragged over your figure – clad in a too-big shirt that you probably stole from one of the brothers as your sock-clad foot pads over the space.

It’s stretched and tattered, he realises as you close the gap. He briefly imagines the thought of you wearing his own before shaking them away. He catches a whiff of something warm and buttery, his gaze trailing down to the pan of fluffy scrambled eggs you hold.

You smell delectable, something straight out of his imagination. Ah, this must be a dream, he concludes in the end. Only something so serene could exist in the depths of his mind, and never in reality.

You stand before him, entirely in reach. A cosy haze still envelops him, muddying his thoughts and he thinks and thinks–

“–Do you want any sauce with that?” You break his thoughts with that gentle tone of yours, peering close at his expression. He couldn’t help himself, suddenly leaning forward to press a kiss to the side of your mouth.

“Thank you.” He feels tingly as if this was what he was meant to do. He rises to his full height, watching as your lips slightly parted, with your eyes widening in surprise. 

He ducks down to kiss you squarely on the lips this time. 

“I’ll have some Hellfire sauce with that.” He nods again, sitting down in his seat. A pleased smile graces his face as you walk shakily back to the corner of the kitchen and use a spell to float the bottle of sauce over to him.

Ping!

He glances down at his D.D.D. with a furrow, letting out a sigh.

Diavolo: Lucifer, are you reaching RAD soon?

He pauses, looking at the plate of food in front of him. He didn’t know dreams were so realistic nowadays, mimicking his schedule down to a T. 

With a yawn, he scans the room looking for your figure. Surprisingly, you were nowhere to be seen, traces long gone from his sight. What a shame. He wanted to say his goodbyes even if it was only a dream.

.

Within minutes, he’s shuffling out into the cold early morning air grunting as he holds the container of food close to his chest. For some reason, he decides to kick a stone that was in his way and that sends a flock of birds flying out of the way.

That breaks the haze he was in, realisation jolting him out of his skin.

Goodness gracious, he thinks. Everything is out of order. He leans down with his head in his hands, setting the container in his lap.

“Fuck.” He finally mutters out loud in the silence.

A bird caws back at him, mocking him in his stupidity. 

[folkloreintime]

Vamplor. - Taylor Swift x Reader Smut

Vampire!Taylor x female reader smut

warnings: smut, fem!reader oral (r!receiving), vampires, biting, mild blood play, amnesia(kinda??)

summary: Vamplor takes you back to her house and her intentions are very clear.

word count: 1.5k

A/N: not me being back the vamplor pull was just too strong lmaoo. I might do a part 2 of this where vamplor feeds on reader but pls lemme know if u want it or not bc it might be too freaky idk. Hope you enjoy! - pris

You could barely recall the recent events of this morning, a bad sleep turned into a bad morning which turned into an even worse day so when the sun set and you lazily walked your way back home, the local bar didn’t look so bad, its dim glow seeming much more enticing than the cold icy walls of your apartment, it seemed like an adequate end to the day.

However, now you were sitting in a room, two deep red glasses of wine sat at the table in front of you, the tall ceilings seemed like they could go on forever but the walls were ensconced in black as if they were trying to trap you. Memories, flashes of red lips and sultry whispers came back to you, a woman flicking her blonde hair over her shoulder laughing coyly, her face hidden from your gaze. You took a deep breath and turned towards the door. Nobody entered and you wondered if you should leave. It almost felt illegal, quietly tiptoeing towards the door and just before you turned the handle it burst open.

“Not leaving are you, Sweetness?” Her red lips pouted as she salaciously leaned on the door frame, essentially blocking you in. “No. I’m just…” The words fell short in your mouth because you didn’t actually know what you were doing here but the intrigue of the woman before you was enough to make you stay. “We were at the bar?” you questioned trying to piece together what little information you had. “Yes,” she chuckled, “We came here after the bar, the night is still young, so why waste it?” Her tall figure stepped into the room.

“Sit. We were having such a good conversation,” she gestured with a flick of her hand and you immediately felt yourself complying with her commands as if she had willed it so, “Oh… did someone make a mess?” She mocked you, shaking her head dismissively as you both looked at the wine now dripping unceremoniously on the floor, you didn’t even hear it fall, the silence in the room was deafening, only the sound of your breath and the creaking footsteps as she moved around you remained, just close enough where you could sense the air as she moved through it but not close enough to touch.

She handed you a rag and knelt to the floor with you, her blonde hair framed her face, the moonlight from the open window shone like stage lights illuminating her like a crowd pleaser. “Go on, Y/N. Clean up your mess.” her eyes darkened, the silhouette of her black lacy corset tightened against her pale skin as she leaned forward with intense eye contact. You began to soak up what liquid you could, the rag absorbing the fluid, now stained with red like an open wound. The small piece of cloth was doing very little to clean it up, sloshing the liquid back and forth making an even bigger mess, you sat up a little, almost admitting defeat when the woman piped up. “Need help?” it would have sounded sincere if not for her quirked up brow and loose smile on her lips . She cupped her hands on top of yours and you gasped. She was ice cold, shivers traveled up and down your spine and you didn’t move an inch.

She began to move her hands, moving yours with them. Left. Right. Left. Right. It was antagnosingly slow, and each time she stopped her grip on your

hands tightened ever so slightly. Her eyes studied you so intensely, you felt shy under her gaze, wholly exposed and unable to utter a word for fear she might just get up and leave. Suddenly, she stopped. “You can’t clean up your mess properly, Sweetness.” she tutted, both of your hands were stained red, the scent of mulled berries infiltrated your senses. “I’m sorry.” You looked away in shame, it seemed like the longer you spent with her the more shy you became.

“Sorry isn’t good enough, Y/N. You disrespected my company.” She stood, towering above you. “I’ll make it up to you.” Your voice was small now, looking at her through your eyelashes, she smoothed out her corset. “I guess I’ll just have to make a mess of you.” She grabbed your jaw, harshly raising your head so your eyes could meet. Her smirk was more sinister now, her blue eyes almost became black like the walls. “Stand.” she demanded.

Her cold hands clenched either side of your face and she leaned in, lips merely inches apart and where her breath should fan your face, there was none. She crashed her lips into yours, they moved around each other like an electric dance. She took your bottom lip into her mouth and sucked whilst you brought your hands to pull her closer. She stopped. “I didn’t say you could touch.” You breathed out, a little shocked. She grabbed you by the shoulders and pushed you down onto the chaise lounge underneath the window. The moon casting its light onto her enshrouded face. Sweeping your hair to one side, she let the strap of your dress fall onto your shoulder. She traced lines from your upper jaw to chest with her black painted fingernails. You closed your eyes and listened to the sound of your heartbeat.

She knelt between your knees, her height making her level with you and laid kisses on your jaw, intermittently enveloping your mouth in a searing kiss. She moved down to your neck and started to suckle and kiss just above your pulse point. You closed your eyes in bliss, a small moan escaping. Suddenly, you felt a sharp pinch and your eyes shot open. “Sorry, got ahead of myself.” She laughed, throwing her head back, exposing sharp fangs overtop those full red lips.

A wave of nausea crashed over you as your breathing became rapid and shallow. The fear was palpable in the air but your lust and temptation still lingered. You recalled her electric energy in the bar, hanging on to her every word, bringing yourself closer just to feel what it’s like to be in her presence, letting a potentially dangerous woman have you? Would it be worth it?

Her long fingers grasped onto your waist as she slowly pushed you flat on the lounge chair. Now fully at her mercy, she pulled down the neck of your shirt as if it was greatly inconveniencing her, exposing your breasts to the air. She took one nipple into her mouth and lightly began to suck, your head rolled to the side and a moan fluttered its way from your throat. Her suckling turned into tiny bites, the thrill of knowing her sharp teeth could break the skin at any moment made the seconds go painstakingly slow.

Her actions became rougher and sloppier as she made her way down your body, stopping incrementally to leave a kiss or run her polar fingers through your hair, staring deeply into your eyes. Her blonde hair tickled the space between your thighs and her solid stature was the only reminder that she was even there. She leaned in and you jolted out of fear. “You scared of me, Sweetness?” She pouted, genuinely waiting for an answer. “No, I don’t think so.” You answered honestly as not trusting the womanly creature with her head in between your legs right now wouldn’t be very apt. “Good, because I’m about to be,” Her tongue made contact with your pussy, “Very mean right now.” she whispered.

The noises that erupt from your mouth sound wrecked and earth shattering as she begins a languid dance upon you. Her tongue lays flat against you before her mouth is hastily sucking your clit into her mouth, the whiplash of events making your head spin. She thrusts her tongue in, holds for a second and then pulls back. There’s a sheen to her supple lips, the red lipstick is a little smeared but the glint of hazy lust so intense in her eyes is enough to fuel both of you on. She spits on your pussy, a sultry whine leaves your mouth. Then she dives right back in continuing her machinations and the white hot pleasure begins to peak as you clasp a hand to the back of her head.

She laughs, the sound vibrating against you, bringing you to the crux. A million little stars fill your vision as her tongue furiously pushes against your pussy, the breath from your lungs punches the air and sweat beads on your forehead. Then she drags her teeth across to your thigh and bites. You almost ignite as cries flurry their way to the surface with every pulse of your clit. She moans for the first time and there's something off about the nonessential breath she lets out.

She rears her head up, the small red dribble coming from her mouth alarms you. You press against the small wound, red staining your fingertips, and slowly push them into her mouth. She takes them with no questions asked, leeching every droplet she can take. She releases your fingers and kisses your cheek, her hand cupping your neck.

“I think I might have to keep you forever.” She says, tilting her head.

“And you are?” You ask.

“Taylor, Sweetness.”

end.

[marsprincess889]

Just wanted to tell a little story, and you might want to read it

I remember seeing one of those collective channelling short videos not too long ago. Yk, where people say vaguely encouraging and/or exremely positive stuff.

And this woman has a lot of viewers, mind you, a lot of people who in times need and crisis might see her videos and start to doubt if they should hope or not.

She said something like "I see lights, I can't explain but it looks like a card in one of my decks." And after that she started shuffling and the card jumped out but... but.... but..... it clearly landed right in front of her, BUT .... but... in a second, her eyes went to her extreme left where the camera wasn't even showing and she picked it up from there, then was like "OHMY GOD that is card i was thinking of" and yeah she acted surprised.

I used to see her videos pop up and obviously, me lowkey having trust issues I never believe those stuff fully, and never immediately. And yeah when I realized she set it up AND then proceeded to act very surprised made me just place her as a pathetic little human in my classification of people(idk how else to say it).

And no one pointed it out. I don't care if her intentions are good or if she believes that this way she's "manifesting" something for herself and her viewers, she has decided to take her audience as fools. I understand that she might not do that in every video but to claim to be so pure and to talk of light and angels and faith and to spread "spirituality" and then lie like that just does not sit well with me to say the least. She knows what she's doing with how she presents herself and her videos and I loathe seeing her and people like her have so many faithful followers.

As much as I'd like for content creators like that to change their ways, they're always going to stay who they are. Let them. I just wish people were less dependent on others within the "spiritual"(in quotes) and astrology community.

And that kind of behavior is totally disgusting.

I can direct anyone who wants her @ on instagram to that video, I feel no shame in it.

And yes I rewatched that moment at least three times to make sure I was right.

[hyuuukais]

⋆₊‧⁺˖⋆˚.⋆ ͙͘͡★ LOOK UP TO THE STARS

pairing ▪︎ han jisung x fem reader

synopsis ▪︎ sent out on a mission to a neighbouring QZ that's gone radio silent, y/n falls into the hands of a post-rebellion group after things go terribly wrong. giving up on rejoining her squad, she joins the group on a trek to find a missing member, the group leader's sister. what's supposed to be a not-so-simple trip out and back to their base becomes a one-way ticket to the end of everything they know.

warnings ▪︎ general, y/n finally breaking down, also she can't swim cause i can't swim 💔, hyunjin x reader fight from previous chapter mentioned, errm radiohead lyrics jumpscare sorry (but also not cause it's my fic 🤨), errrm idk what else !

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

CHAPTER SEVEN ▪︎ WE ALL HAVE SOMETHING (6.1k)

At least a week has passed since you left that place, only a pile of dead bodies to signify you were ever there. It was too risky to go back to the home Chan and Jeongin were still in, waiting for the rest of you to return, so Felix had radioed them in order to get them ready to move. As the truck was loaded with supplies, Felix had Han carefully flip you onto your back to check the still bleeding wound left by that mans knife. He did what he could, packing the wound and instructing you to stay in that position. You barely registered his words, slipping into sleep.

When you woke, you found yourself on a firm mattress in the basement of a cottage. Pain shot through your body every time you tried moving, and you imagined that's how Chan felt after the hospital. Your sympathy for him rose, and so did your impatience to get back to normal.

Today, you're finally able to sit upright, legs hanging over the edge of the bed as you stare blankly through the doorway. Your back aches, but Felix says it's healing nicely, that you're lucky there isn't much real damage. You don't feel lucky. You feel nothing. All those years in the QZ mastering the art of hiding emotion came in handy, but you would give anything right now just to feel something. You sigh heavily, trying to release the weight on your chest. But today is different, because you can finally sit upright on the edge of the bed.

Tears prickle at your eyes and you look down to where your hands sit in your lap, cradling your necklace. You took it off when no one was with you, keeping it in a drawer in the bedside nightstand. The metal charm is cold in your hand as you close it in a fist; looking at it for so long brings you back too far. Thoughts of before flood your mind, thoughts of Minho and the way he found the charm for you after you asked him about his own one night, a singular cat paw hanging down from his neck.

"Ah, this," He took the charm in his fingers, the metal glinting in the campfire light. "My mother gave it to me before she turned."

"Oh." You were only eight, leaning against Minhos arm in the middle of an abandoned campsite.

Unlike you, Minho had lived with his mom until he was about your age when he found you, then she turned after their camp was attacked. He found you a few years later, wandering the streets of a small town looking for shelter. You were just a small child, the age of seven, left alone to fend for yourself. It wasn't intentional- you'd been curious about a path in the woods and found yourself lost quickly. When you ran into Minho, you were trembling from hunger and on the brink of passing out from exhaustion. He took you into his arms and broke into the closest house, taking out some kind of canned food for you to eat. Ever since then, you were inseparable.

That is, until now.

Now, you're unlikely to ever see him again outside of dreams and memories. As you place the necklace back around your neck, you can feel something. It starts small, the hiccups and the burn in your throat, the way the prickling behind your eyes grows stronger; you can't breathe through your nose anymore. Salty tears drip down your face, down your neck, onto your hands in your lap. No one is around to hear you, so you let go, curling into yourself as your sobs rip from your body painfully. You can't even stay on the bed, slipping down to the carpeted floor with a hand clutching your heart as everything comes out at once. The pain of missing Minho, accepting what happened at the diner- you didn't let yourself truly feel fear there, thinking you would die one way or another, that it didn't matter how you felt in the moment. Waves of anguish flow through your body like a viral disease; you need to let it run its course.

You don't hear the knock on the door frame or see the way Chan leans against it, watching as you give into yourself. It's not until he's sitting next to you with an arm wrapping around your shoulders that you acknowledge him, face burying into his neck and your free hand being held by his. He whispers words you can't make out into your hair, running smooth circles in between your shoulder blades until you start to calm down, coughing and sniffling and breathing so heavily. Eventually, the room is near quiet again, only the occasional sniffle to be heard.

"Did I ever tell you about when Hannah went missing?" You look up at Chan, shaking your head. He's not looking at you when he continues, but at your clasped hands, giving you a squeeze. "I looked a lot like you after a few days. I was..."

"A complete and total mess?" You offer, and he gives a breathy laugh.

"Exactly. A complete and total mess. I locked myself in that house for what felt like forever." Chan sighs, looking up at the ceiling. "We were out in a nearby town looking for things like canned food and medical supplies, run of the mill stuff. She was practically begging me to let her explore the local art gallery, but I was so against it. Of course, she didn't listen to me and went off on her own when enough of us were distracted. If I had only-" Chan clears his throat, blinks a few times. "If I had only said yes, gone with her, she'd still be with us."

"What do you mean?" You're more upright now, but still leaning into his shoulder.

"The place was filled with infected," He starts, and you feel your stomach drop. "As soon as we noticed she was missing, that was the first place we looked. As we got closer, we heard her screaming for help. Jisung helped me get the door open and we saw she had climbed on top of a sculpture, but the infected were somehow making their way up to her. And after one wrong move in trying to stay up, she fell- right into the arms of this person that we hadn't even noticed."

The regret and pain in Chan's voice are enough to make you look away from him, now your turn to give a reassuring squeeze to his hand. Silence hangs heavily in the room for a few moments before he begins talking again.

"All the infected were trained on us after that, only a few stragglers going after the two of them. The horde was too thick to get through, but we took most of them out before having to fall back out the way we came from." His head drops down, lips quivering. "I- when we- ugh, sorry."

"Don't apologize." You bring your free hand to his cheek, turning his head to face you. "You don't need to continue if you don't want to."

"I do," He says, voice wet, cheeks wet. "I do. We, um, we circled around to the back where we assumed they took her out from, but only got there in time to see a large van drive off. Our own vehicle was too far at the time, we never had a chance of catching up. Hannah meant- means, a lot to all of us, so I tried to be strong for the rest of the group. A few days after getting back to town, I found a note she had written."

He takes his hand from yours, reaching into the pocket of his jeans to reveal a tired, leather wallet. When he opens it, you see the only thing inside is a folded-up piece of lined paper. Chan takes it out carefully, letting you read it over his shoulder.

Chan, Chris, whatever.

Thanks for finding me a guitar! You're the best big brother ever, but you didn't hear that from me. In fact, burn this after reading, I don't need anyone thinking I've gone soft for you.

Here are some lyrics I've begun (probably not the beginning of a song, maybe somewhere in the middle? I don't know):

Breathe, keep breathing. Don't lose your nerve.

Breathe, keep

The paper is ripped, cutting off the rest of the lyrics. When you're done reading, you look back to Chan, but he's still focused on the paper, his face red and scrunched up. You tuck some hair away from his face as he breaks down, gasping and wiping his eyes. He clears his throat again, tucking the paper back into the wallet, the wallet back into his jeans.

"I pull that out when I start to lose touch, when I start to think things are becoming hopeless." His voice quiets. "When I start to give up. She gives me those things back, grounds me, you know?"

Your fingers find the charm around your neck. "I know."

"Now that I know Hannah is still out there, I'd give anything to find her. Sometimes it scares me." Chan finally looks at you again, eyes watery. "We all have something that scares us, and we all have something to give us hope. Find it, Y/n, and don't give up. We need you."

Something in his voice, in his words, in the feeling of his body close to yours, has you breaking down again. You both sit here for a while, comforting each other by just being close and providing a safe space to let it all out. Once your eyes run dry, Chan stands and offers you a hand. You take it, following him through the basement doors to the backyard on slightly unsteady feet. There's a pathway from where the glass double doors are jammed open down to a fire pit, a small set of stone steps leading further down to the water. It's overcast and smells like rain, but you can see almost everyone out in the water. The sight is enough for you to tear up again, seeing them have fun and have just one day where they can be careless, not worrying about if they'll make it through the night.

Hyunjin is sitting on a cushioned metal swing on a porch that hangs slightly over a sandy area, the water not quite coming up the shore. He's sitting with Felix, who's chest is free of a shirt, but not free of sand grains covering his skin. His wet hair is tucked behind his ears; it's getting long, he looks good this way. They're lost in conversation, not paying attention to Jeongin and Chaeryeong essentially trying to drown each other by the looks of it, or Han, who's floating closer to the dock where Seungmin is sitting with his legs in the water. Nobody notices you and Chan standing from afar, watching with a heaviness in each of your chests.

"Go, have fun," Chan pushes you forward gently. "I'm gonna start prepping the campfire for dinner. I found some things we can eat in a storage room inside."

"I can stay and help-"

"No," He says firmly, shaking his head. "Hyunjin and I can't go in, doctors orders, but you can go join them and you should. Lix told me you should be okay since your wound has healed nicely. Enjoy it for me, yeah?"

You groan, barely containing a smile. "Fine."

"Y/n!" Chaeryeong squeals as you walk to the edge of the porch, avoiding eye contact with Hyunjin. "Come join us!"

"That was the plan." You laugh.

Stripping off your pants and socks, you carefully hop down onto the wet sand. Warm water touches your toes as you slowly descend, a small smile gracing your features. It feels nice.

"You should take your shirt off since it's your only one," Chaeryeong suggests and you blush. "The water temperature is amazing out here once you get used to it, so don't worry about being cold!"

You bring your hands to the bottom of your shirt, hesitating as you begin to lift it up. At just below your belly button, you stop completely, gripping your shirt tightly. It shouldn't be a big deal, but it is to you. Taking your shirt off means revealing the ugly bruises littering your body, the nasty scar across your ribs from when you were a child. There isn't much of a story, one similar enough to a lot of people you've met before. A zombie attacked you and left you with a permanent mark, only you've been able to hide the jagged, rough skin from sight. It healed terribly from the lack of proper medical attention, only a twelve-year-old Minho with no training to try and stop the bleeding, stitch up the wound, and keep it clean as you slipped in and out of consciousness. Soon after, he ran into someone from the quarantine zone who tried to take him with them, but he kicked and screamed until they understood there was someone else; you, alone in a cold garage, on the brink of death.

You think nobody notices your pause, much too focused on themselves and the water, but then somebody is standing beside you in the soft sand, an arm reaching behind you to grab a piece of green fabric. Watching as Han shoves his shirt back over his wet body, catching a glimpse of his small waist and bare golden skin in the process, your hands let go of the hem of your shirt.

"Chaeryeong is lying," Han says, then raises his voice loud enough for the others to hear. "The water is fucking freezing!"

Laughing, Jeongin tries to splash him where he stands, but the younger boy is too far away and it barely hits Han's ankles. Shaking your head, you look up at Han, who is standing entirely too close to you, but you find you don't mind. After what you experienced together, you don't view him like you did before; immature, kind of annoying, cocky. You see now that's how Jisung protects himself, by portraying himself as funny and unserious, to try and lighten the mood. You all have your armour, and he wears his better than you do yours.

"I'm not lying! Don't believe him!" Chaeryeong whines, but is soon distracted by some bugs skipping past her over the water. "Woah, Jeongin, look."

"She's right." You talk quietly, a shy smile on your face and you can't look Han in the eye. "I can feel the water on my feet, it really isn't cold."

"Yes, it is," He insists, taking your hand in his and walking backward. You look at him now, see the way his hair falls into his eyes and swoops up at the back, at his honey complexion shining in the vibrant light of the sunset to your left, his eyes teasing, but soft. "It's really, really cold. Keeping your shirt on is the smart decision."

"Okay." You whisper, letting him bring you in waist-deep before he lets go and maneuvers onto his back. "Wait."

Han cranes his neck up to look at you, raising an eyebrow.

"I- oh, this is so stupid," You say, hiding your face in your hands. "I can't swim, at least, not well. Going into deeper water freaks me out."

With your face still hidden, you can hear Han returning to your side. Wet hands bring yours down, big brown eyes staring into yours. "That's okay, you have a human-sized floating device right here! And we'll only go as far as that dock, okay?"

Smiling, he steps aside and points to a floating piece of wood not too far from where you're standing in the water. Then, he's back in front of you with his back facing you, reaching back to wrap your hands around his shoulders. You're holding on for dear life when he kicks out, somehow more scared than you are when fighting actual literal undead beings. What should be a walk in the park, and is for most people, makes your throat hot and tight. You want to nuzzle your face into Han's neck, but you know if you try that you'll just end up waterboarding yourself, which is more embarrassing than anything else that's happened since you've woken up.

The wood shifts under your weight and for a second, you think you'll fall over the edge when Han lets go of your body, but you don't. He sits on a different ledge, encouraging you with a nod to join him on that side, so you do. From here, you can see the sun setting behind the tree line, oranges and pinks and yellows painting a beautiful picture for you. To your left, you see bodies in the water and recognize them as more than just people you're surviving with, but as people you've grown to really care about. And maybe you're a little hopeful, but you think they've grown to care about you too.

Han traces light fingers over the tendons in your hand, over your knuckles, up your wrist. You think he's doing it subconsciously, but then his fingers intertwine with your own and he's sighing with a small smile on his face, and his eyes are closed, and his wet hair sticks to his forehead, and you can't look away, and he's the most beautiful person you've ever seen, and-

"You're staring." You blush, but the way his eyes look down at your lips then back to your eyes doesn't go unnoticed.

"I couldn't help it," You admit. Something in the way he's staring at you has your heart about to leap out of your chest, thumping hard and loud, and you wouldn't be surprised if he could hear it too. The blood rushing in your ears, the way your skin prickles where he's touched you; you've never felt like this before, not even with Hyunjin.

Finally breaking the stare, Han clears his throat and lets go of your hand; you're a tad bit disappointed at the loss of contact. "Chan found some canned food in a storage room in the basement, so we were thinking of having a campfire tonight. There's also stale marshmallows and I heard that people before the apocalypse would make these things called 'smores', but we don't have the stuff to make them."

"Yeah, I've had those-" You start, but are interrupted by an almost offended sound.

"You've had them?" Hans neck nearly snaps with the speed his head turns to you.

"Um, yeah." Why are you getting shy? "With Minho in the QZ. When he became a squad leader, he got some privileges we didn't, like access to the kitchens after hours. He told me about all the things they kept for themselves as we snuck out that night, contraband chocolate and graham crackers stuffed deep into out coat pockets."

You laugh at the memory, the stuttered excuse Minho had made when a soldier caught you both trying to leave stealthily. Luckily they'd trained together, and the soldier waved you both away with a suggestive smirk that made your cheeks go red. You think that might have been when the rumours started; you and Minho fell in love through all the trauma you went through together, that the only real place of comfort you had was each other. Only part of that is true- was true. He didn't bring you far that night, just outside of the patrol routes to a small, wooden shack of sorts in the woods. The snack was tasty, and the fire warm, but not as warm as the feeling in your stomach as you rested your head against Minho's shoulder in the night, his arm secure around you.

"Y/n?" Minho whispered, thinking you had fallen asleep; you didn't, but you were too tired to mutter any kind of response back. "Jagiya, I need to tell you something... maybe it's better to say it now and just have it out in the open." He sighs, and it's a while before he talks again. "You saved my life. I don't know what I would have done if I hadn't found you, where I would be. Certainly not here, I hate this place and the things they do and cover up. But you needed help, and I couldn't let you die. I stay here for you, do you know that?"

The night is quiet, save for your breathing and the sound of crickets and other bugs, but Minho's mind is loud and racing and he can't help but confess everything to you. How he couldn't imagine life without you, how you mean the world- no, the universe to him. The way he didn't think he'd even still be here if you hadn't come along, whether by the nature of the world now or by his own hands. Saying all these things thinking you'd drifted off, but you were more awake than ever.

"What do you think happened to him?" Han's voice brings you back, and you notice the way the night has taken over. "Minho. Since he lied for us."

"They value him a lot there, so I doubt there were any real repercussions as long as he kept up the act." Looking into the dark water and seeing the way your legs disappear, you shiver. "Can we go back to the others now?"

"Oh! Yeah, of course. Are you cold?" Han rubs his hands up and down your arms and you snort. "Why are you laughing? The water is gonna be colder than earlier and you're still recovering, I don't want you to get sick."

Right. Recovering. Time with Han had let you briefly forget all the shit that happened, existing in the moment with someone who didn't look at you like someone who might break any second. You saw the way their eyes lingered on you when you walked past into the water, the way Hyunjin and Jeongin tried not to stare as you struggled to take your shirt off. Even Chan as he let you walk away to the others, worry etched in his face.

"I'm fine." You grumble, opting to get in the water before he could say anything else. Struggling to keep your head above water, you only make it so far until he's caught up, trying to get you onto his back again. "I'm not a baby! Let me do this!"

"No, you're not a baby, but you're also not a strong swimmer." Han says, still trying to grab your arms.

Ignoring his comment, you continue to splash your way to the dock, but your arms and legs are getting tired quick. You stop for a moment, struggling to take a breath, and notice how damp your face has gotten. Assuming it's just the water, or maybe sweat, you're confused when Han is in front of you with a concerned look on his face. That's when you realize you're crying- again. And the realization makes you cry harder, upset with yourself for becoming so soft, for breaking down over and over and over again, for letting yourself be vulnerable in front of others.

"Hey, hey, hey." Han is wrapping his arms around you, keeping you from letting yourself sink. "What's going on in that pretty head of yours?"

"Everything is so stupid-" You choke out, cold arms reaching around his neck to stay afloat. As you keep talking, he slowly starts moving your bodies back to land. "Recovery is stupid, feeling sad is stupid, getting hurt over dumb words is stupid."

"Why is it stupid to be human?" He asks softly.

Hans words sit between you, and you don't know what to say.

"Y/n?" Han only stops for a moment, focusing entirely on you.

"I shouldn't feel this way." You say. "I should be back on my feet and not dwelling on some accident that happened. This world doesn't let you do that."

"So make it do that," Han says, like it's the most obvious answer in the entire world. "We all have our moments. Yeah, we can't always stop and let it take over, but we have to let ourselves feel it eventually or that's what's gonna kill us in the end." He shakes his head and begins to move again. "Not zombies, not the military, but ourselves. We're all zombies already in a way, eating away at ourselves in the name of self-preservation."

"That is definitely one way to put it." You laugh. "But I think I get what you mean."

Sand grazes your toes and you detach from Han, hopping back up to the dock and helping him up. Your shirts are soaked and heavy as they hang from your bodies, sticking to your skin uncomfortably.

"Y/n!" Chaeryeong comes jogging up to your side with two things in her hands. "I got you a towel and a fresh sweater. There are closets full of clothes in there if this doesn't fit. Check this out-" she does a spin to show you the back of her grey shirt, stark white angel wings on the other side.

"Oh, you're a cool girl now!" You take the things from her, giggling. "Thank's Chaerry."

"No problem." She smiles, then looks at Han. "Sorry, I didn't think to grab you something..."

"Eh, I can dry by the fire." He shrugs.

With a final nod, Chaeryeong returns to the fire Chan has started- if you can call it that yet. There are just a few pieces of wood barely smoking in the pit. Han shifts in front of you, blocking your view of the others. When you look up at him, he's straining his neck in the opposite direction.

"What are you doing?" You ask, giving him a weird look.

"Blocking the others from seeing you change." He answers with his head still turned away; that must be painful.

"Oh," is all you can say, an ache in your chest at his words.

It doesn't take long for you to discard your wet shirt, tossing it to the side with a schlap. Tapping on Han's chest to signal you're done, he turns his head back too soon and whimpers in pain, rubbing the back of his neck.

"You didn't have to do that, I could have gone inside." You say, reaching up to replace his hand with yours, massaging his neck. He's close; you can feel his breath on your cheek.

"I know," He says, and once you're done soothing his pain, you walk to the fire that's actually a fire now, and join the others.

"And then, get this, he threatened me! Me! Can you believe that?" Hyunjin is scoffing, hand in the air.

"Yes, actually, I can get how the guy whose gun you stole threatened you," Seungmin points out.

"But I didn't-"

"No, you just let it get stolen by your best friend-"

"Enough! Enough, please don't start an argument when I'm trying to cook us a nice dinner to enjoy on a nice night where we can actually have a nice time." Chan groans.

For a moment, no one talks, but then Seungmin leans over to Hyunjin. "How many times do you think he can say nice in one sentence?"

"Poor guy, old age is making him forget his vocabulary." Hyunjin says with a fake, sad sigh.

"I was going to say the same thing," Seungmin laughs quietly.

You sit next to Seungmin in an empty lawn chair, Han sitting across from you next to Chan. Chaeryeong is already falling asleep on your other side, Felix and Jeongin off in their own world next to her. Listening to Hyunjin and Seungmin bicker as you eat gives you a strange sense of normalcy, like two siblings on a family vacation to their cottage. As you place your plate on the pile by Chan's feet, you make eye contact with Han, who is placing his down too. He retracts his arm, letting you place yours first, and you smile at him. Reaching behind his leg, you watch Chan bring out the stale marshmallows Han had mentioned before as you sit back down.

Everyone is silent as they roast them over the fire, some blankets that Chan had ready being passed around. When you go to throw the other half of yours over Chaeryeong, you notice her pouting and her glossy eyes.

"Chaerry?" You nudge her arm gently and she appears to zone back in, a single tear dropping from her eye.

"Hannah would have loved this." She whispers, but it's heard by the rest in the quiet night.

Instinctively, you look at Chan, but his eyes are focused on Chaeryeong, lips pressed tightly together. He closes the bag. "She would have, you're right. Let's save some for when we get her back, yeah?"

No one speaks as he ties the bag closed. You accidentally burnt your little ball of sugar, but eat it anyway; it feels almost disrespectful not to. Jeongin is the first to go, excusing himself to bed. He's followed by Seungmin, then Felix, then Chaeryeong. The silence between you, Chan, Han, and Hyunjin has returned to comfortable, sleepy energy surrounding you. Finally, Chan and Han both head inside, leaving you alone with Hyunjin. Thinking it'll become awkward, you're about to head inside yourself.

"I'm sorry for what I said." Hyunjin says, the ghost of a pout on his lips. "I didn't mean it, I was just angry."

"I get it," You lie.

Hyunjin looks at you, really looks at you, and he's still as pretty as ever. The firelight glows against his skin, and you can see every little detail including your favourite, the mole under his eye. You can't count how many times you placed a soft kiss right there, whispering into his skin how unique it was.

"No, you don't." He says. "I called you a liability, who does that?"

"You?" You try to joke, but it doesn't land. "Sorry."

"Don't be." Hyunjin switches to the seat next to you that Seungmin abandoned. "Listen, no one here is doubting you. Nobody. Not even Han-" He cuts himself off, head turning away but eyes staying on you. "...what's going on between you guys?"

"What?" Your eyes widen and you sit up, at a loss for words.

"We've all seen you guys acting like lovebirds all of a sudden! Did it really only take some life endangerment to finally work up the courage to ask you out?" You're more confused than ever, and Hyunjin can tell he said more than he should have. "Forget I said that..."

"Yeah, I think I will." You laugh. Han, liking you? As in romantically? Han Jisung? You? Please. "Anyway, what you said is in the past. It doesn't matter now."

"What? It does matter," Hyunjin sits up in his chair, leaning his arm onto your chair. "Of course, it matters. Why would you say that it doesn't?"

"Because, I don't know... after the whole getting kidnapped by zombie-eating humans thing, hanging onto stuff like that seems unimportant." Hyunjin doesn't speak, just keeps looking at you with sad eyes, flickering fire reflecting in the dark of his iris. "You don't agree."

"No, I don't," He sighs. "My words hurt you and caused that whole fucking mess, so yeah, I don't agree one bit. You can't compare your physical and emotional pain, okay? Once you start doing that, you'll lose yourself, and we can't have you gone Y/n. We can't."

"Why do you care so much?"

He scoffs, actually scoffs, and you're confused. "You've become so important to our little family, you have no idea."

"But you said-" He cuts you off.

"Forget what I said!" Hyunjin clasps your closest hand in his. "I was angry, I wasn't thinking. Obviously, there was some truth in it, but only if we go back in time to when you were lying unconscious with a broken leg and we didn't know what would happen. None of us think that way about you anymore, no doubts or worries about whether you can handle yourself. If something happened to you, none of us would be okay. Me included. I still care about you, a lot."

The burning feeling behind your eyes has returned for the third time that night, but maybe it's what you need. To let yourself be seen by the others, truly, completely seen. Not the you who you present, who you act as, but the authentic you. Starting with Chan, then Han, now Hyunjin. One by one, you're beginning to learn what it's like to let people in.

"Can we go to bed now?" You whisper, holding his gaze.

"Of course." He brings your hand up to his lips, leaving a soft kiss there before helping you out of your chair.

Wincing, you clutch your side where the worst of the bruising is, holding onto Hyunjin with your other hand. Pain throbs underneath your fingers, somehow sharp and dull at the same time. When you try to move, the pain worsens. You must have overexerted yourself in the water, and now it's catching up to you.

"Here," Hyunjin guides your hands around his neck. "On three, you jump. One... two... three."

You do as he says, wrapping your legs around his waist, and you feel his arm come around your lower back to keep you secure. He starts walking and you can already feel sleep taking you, burying your head into his neck. The next thing you feel is the firm mattress under your body and the warmth of Hyunjin's chest.

"I enjoyed our time together," You say sleepily, angling your head up to look at Hyunjin with closed eyes, too heavy to open again.

"Me too," He presses a kiss to your forehead. "Me too, Y/n."

"We weren't made for each other, were we?" But you already know the answer.

"No," Hyunjin whispers. "Not like that. But we were- are, meant to be here together, with each other. I love you, you know that, right?"

"I love you too."

Your heart is racing with the confession, words you've only ever uttered a few times in your life. To your parents, before they died, to Minho, Seungmin. Yet you know you'd tell the rest you loved them if they were in this room with you two, too sleepy to hold back your emotions.

-

Crrk... crrrrrrkk... crrrrkk...

"What is that?"

Seungmin catches your eye from where he's sitting on the floor, hands feeling over the rough, matted carpet. You're standing right outside the bedroom where Hyunjin lies still asleep, door shut softly behind you. A strange crackling noise was enough to wake you, venturing out to the open space beyond your door. What you didn't expect to see was Seungmin already investigating, starting to pick at the carpet where it appeared to be cut in a square shape.

"There's a keyhole," Seungmin says. "But no key."

"A keyhole?" You walk over to him and lean over his crouched body to inspect the floor, and there is, in fact, a keyhole. It's embedded into the floor, just barely covered by the carpet fibers. Although there was no key, that was no problem. "Move over."

"Bossy," Seungmin comments, but shifts over.

Taking a bobby pin out of your hair, you begin to pick the lock. It's a skill you learned from Minho before the QZ, one you used often to sneak into the kitchens late at night. You're thankful he taught you what he did, otherwise you wouldn't be looking down a dark hole in the ground now, a dim light coming from somewhere beyond your sight.

"You coming?" Seungmin asks as he descends down a grungy, metal ladder. It creaks as he makes his way down, threatening to break from the wall. You wait until he's on the ground to climb down yourself.

The space is small, only meant for one or two people you assume. Directly behind you is a table secured to the wall, papers, pencils, and various scraps splayed across, but one thing stands out.

"Is that-" You gasp.

"It is." Seungmin confirms.

A radio- small, but still working when Seungmin flips a switch. It crackles to life, but doesn't last long; you frown at the machine.

"Here," Seungmin is under the table fiddling with some wires. "Something got unplugged."

When it turns back on, you lean against the table and watch Seungmin sit, playing with the dials and whatever else he feels like. You never quite understood how he worked his magic with these small machines.

"And- crrkk- but you didn't hear that- crrrrrrk-"

"Almost..." Seungmin mutters to himself.

"Anyway, for those tuning in for the first time-"

"Aha!" Seungmin tries to suppress his smile as he leans back in the rickety old chair, listening to the broadcast.

"I'm your host, Cadet Seo Changbin. Welcome to Military On The Road!"

Your head whips toward Seungmin, speaking at the same time. "Changbin?!"

▪︎▪︎▪︎

notes ▪︎ BINNIE !!!!!!!!!

─── taglist : @chaeryred @toplinelix @channie-143 @staysinbloom @manuosorioh @hanjisunglover @xxstrayland @puppyminnnie @hanjsquokka @kpopsstuffs @ot8girlfie @quokkabite @linoslawayslinos @reapers-lover @hannieslittlerockstar @kiki0113 @nishiriks @nxtt2-u @moonlightjam @hannieslovebot @minmininnie @8lives1heart @skzswife @emi-han @alisonyus

green means i can't tag you!

[caffeinatedmunchkin]

WIP Whenever

Thank you so much for the tag @verbenaa !!✨ your WIP is, as with everything you post, supreme. Go read it right now it’s so good! Run don’t walk trUsT me

Being two Emmrich fics in now I guess it’s safe to say this is just where I’m at 🤷‍♀️ I haven’t been this consistently inspired in a while, so I’m running with it. Please forgive me that I’m throwing more Emmrook your way lol

This is from a oneshot I’m working on that is maybe kind of an out there idea, idk, I’m not gonna fight it. Still very much in the early, rough draft phase - a little bit suggestive and a lotta bit angsty under the cut 🙂‍↕️

With the first bite melting against his tongue, he stilled. His expression one of anguish, he stared either directly into her - or through her - she wasn't certain. But it made little difference.

He didn't see her, or whatever it was he zeroed in on. Ever alert and keenly observant, Emmrich looking lost as he did sank her heart into the pit of her stomach.

"That bad?" She offered with a single brow teased in hesitation as she steeled herself. Keeping her tone even and light, he flinched upon hearing her words, and her panic spiked.

Shutting his eyes, a harsh exhale flared his nostrils. And then nothing. Wound so tight and frozen stiff, not even his broad chest rose and fell with the rhythm of breaths.

She had tempered expectations. Of course it would pale in comparison to his mother’s, but surely her efforts would be appreciated, no matter how amateurish her attempt.

However he remained rigid and aloof. It stirred resignation to bubble up her throat and spill between them like a pot boiled over. Rushing to distance herself from the flicker of hope that she succeeded, only to retreat to forgone failure.

Much more familiar to her, she burrowed in that comfort and sought shelter. "I know its not quite the same, but I did tr-,"

Breaking himself out of the reticence that held him captive, without addressing her - or even glancing her way - he began to maul the slice. Wolfing it down like a man starved, he hunched over in his seat, such as hound seeks to hide their bone from prying eyes before they gnaw it to shreds and marrow.

Ricochetting the fork back and forth between his mouth and the plate, not a hint of deviation - or pause - in his course.

His heart felt like it was squeezed in a chest that pulled against it, intent to cave in. He didn't come up for air, not that his lungs would be able to suck it in against his body's constricting. Every part of him felt heavy and aching; the sore fatigue of succumbing to grief, after ignoring it for longer than it would tolerate. The clinking of metal against the china was all the noise between them.

"Oh-" escaped her in a quiet squeak. So quiet, he recognized it wasn't meant to be playful or teasing. He had startled her, just as he had himself.

Emmrich felt her intent gaze surround him with his every hurried inhale. On occasion, little muted whines of his were shook loose, before they were able to be strangled by his deprived mastication. With every one that rattled from his cavernous need he scrambled to fill with what she made for him, the wider her eyes grew.

And the hotter her cheeks.

And Emmrich kept eating.

His throat felt thick, and his molars buzzed. His head felt hazy from the rush of sugar, but it couldn't keep him from going in for more. Until every crumb was devoured. Until his fork scratched empty plate. Only then he used the flat of it to scrape up the smears of leftover frosting, and sucked it clean from the tines.

He didn't indulge in sweets often, not in a long while. And never like this.

It was like just his mother’s, and it wasn't.

So different from how he remembered, yet it warmed him from the inside out, just as it did when he was a boy.

He noticed her decision to use the rum and coffee in the icing, in place of the orange extract; a preference of his mother’s in which her faithfulness was strict.

It tasted like Ariadne. Her bite. How she burned down his throat and boiled in his stomach. A heady delight tinged with the inescapable aftertaste of regret.

Her heavy-hand, and decadence.

Her affection for him, overwhelming as it was unapologetic.

He didn't need his mother’s torte. He needed hers. And now that he got a taste; he was ravenous.

No pressure tags! @khywren @xxnashiraxx @vangbelsing @obsessedwhyyes @chaoticbardlady99 and whoever else wants to join in!! 💕

[n0vazsq]

No.1 Party Anthem | JMM21 x Reader

pairing . . . pepe marti x reader

summary . . . After meeting Pepe at a party, you can't help but feel nervous, and as the music plays, you realize that this might be the start of something more

request . . . no!!

word count . . . 2k+

warnings . . . idk

faceclaim . . . N/A

alexavia yaps . . . longest and fav fic ever <33 PLEASE BLOW THIS UPPP

taglist . . . @barcapix ,, @f1lover55 ,, @ilovebarcaaa (lmk if you want to join the taglist!)

. . . The evening was warm, the air thick with the sound of laughter and the low hum of conversation. The music from the stereo played in the background, but it wasn’t loud enough to drown out the chatter of the voices surrounding you, the clink of glasses, and the occasional burst of laughter. It was just another night at a friend's party, nothing special, until you noticed him.

Pepe, of course. It wasn’t unusual to see him at these things. He was one of those people everyone knew, the spotlight at every gathering, always charming and effortlessly confident.

Tonight, though, something about the way he stood across the room, eyes scanning the crowd, made your heart skip a beat. You tried not to look at him too much, knowing you wouldn’t be able to stop once you did. But it was impossible to ignore the way his presence filled the room. Like he belonged in the center of every conversation, every joke, every glance.

He caught your eye. Of course he did.

For a moment, everything else seemed to blur out of focus; the laughing friends, the flashing lights of the party, even the music. It was just him, looking at you like he was trying to figure you out, but there was no time for you to wonder about his intentions.

He was already pushing his way through the crowd, effortlessly weaving between people like he was born to be the center of attention. And maybe he was.

You’d known Pepe for a while now, though not in the way most people thought. You had never quite been the type to fall into random friendships or quick acquaintanceships. But somehow, Pepe had carved his way into your life, whether you liked it or not.

It started with casual hangouts, group meetups at a friend's place, all of you laughing and talking over drinks, with Pepe always at the center, gathering all attention without even trying.

It was his dry humor that first drew you in, the way his eyes would light up when he said something ridiculously amusing, and how he somehow made everyone feel like they were part of some private joke.

You never meant to get close to him; he was a guy who liked to keep his distance, always a little out of reach. But then one night, during a particularly chaotic gathering at a friend's house, you found yourselves sitting together on the balcony, away from the noise of the party. It was there you first had a real conversation.

"Do you ever stop moving?" you’d asked him with a smirk, leaning against the railing and watching the city lights flicker in the distance. "Like, are you ever just still?"

Pepe had laughed, a soft sound that matched the sorrowful undertone of his voice. "Sometimes. Only when I don’t have a choice. But I guess the stillness scares me."

His gaze had drifted to the horizon, and you could tell there was more behind those words, something deeper than what you were used to with him. He wasn’t just the centre of the party.

That conversation led to another, and then another. Slowly, without either of you really noticing, you’d become something more than just two acquaintances. You’d find yourselves sitting together in the corners of parties, talking about anything and everything. Life, love, and what came next.

There was always an air of unspoken tension between you two, something undeniable that neither of you was willing to put a name on.

Before you knew it, he was standing right in front of you, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips. You tried to stay cool, but your pulse was already picking up. "Hey," he said, his voice casual, almost teasing. "Didn't expect to see you here."

"Same," you replied with a shrug, trying to mask the sudden rush of adrenaline that hit you. His presence was almost suffocating. "Just wanted to get out for a bit."

"Smart move." He grinned, leaning in a little closer, and you had to fight the urge to step back. The look in his eyes was too intense, too knowing. "The night’s still early."

You could hear the muffled sound of the chorus of the song blasting through the speakers, but it seemed like everything else was drowned out by the tension building between you two. 'Come on, come on, come on,' the lyrics echoed, and it was like a dare. You could feel it.

The rush of blood filled your ears, and your heartbeat seemed to sync with the beat of the song. You didn’t know why you were so nervous, but something about him, something about the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered at that moment, had your head spinning.

"Not sure if this is my place," you said, the words slipping out of your mouth before you could stop them.

He laughed softly, like he already knew you were lying, but it wasn’t a mocking laugh. "You look like you could handle it."

Before you could say anything else, he was already guiding you into the center of the room, his hand brushing against yours as he led you toward a group of people huddled together near the makeshift bar. You could hear the laughter, see the flash of a few cameras catching nostalgic moments.

And then, as if everything was moving in slow motion, you felt it. His fingers curling around your wrist, pulling you in closer, until the space between you felt impossibly small.

"Let’s make this the number one party anthem, yeah?" he whispered, his voice playful but with a hint of something more.

"Alright, but no promises," you shot back, but you were already leaning in, drawn to him like you couldn’t fight it.

The song shifted, and the lights dimmed just a bit, giving everything a hazy glow. People scattered across the room, some dancing, some just talking, others gathered in groups in corners, but none of it seemed as important as the way his eyes were locked on you.

He took a slow step back, watching you like he was waiting for something.

A signal, a cue.

The shutterbugs flashed from across the room, cameras capturing memories that would last longer than the night. The scene was familiar, almost like something out of a movie. People laughing, couples whispering in corners, the flashing lights turning everything into a surreal moment.

"The 'She's with me' is the Gallic shrug," he murmured, almost to himself, but you caught the words. You weren’t sure if he was saying them to boast or if it was something deeper, but you didn’t have time to think about it.

His gaze held yours, and suddenly, everything felt like it was moving in rhythm with the song. The beats pulsed in your veins, the moment pressing closer.

Pepe smiled like he knew exactly what he was doing. "We could have this kind of night. The house of fun, the good time girls, the cubicles, the black and white and the color dodge." He seemed to be listing off everything the night had to offer, but you weren’t listening to the words anymore.

You were watching him, feeling the magnetic pull between you.

For a second, the noise around you faded. The lyrics flowed through your mind, the words repeating over and over again like some kind of mantra.

"The look of love, the rush of blood…"

You could feel it, how every touch, every glance felt like a moment too big to grasp but too important to let slip away.

"Come on," he said again, that look in his eyes softer now, teasing but full of something else. Something that made your stomach flip. "Before the moment’s gone."

You nodded, as if there was anything else you could say. The night was here, the music was pumping, the laughter was loud, but none of it mattered. It was just the two of you in the center of this chaotic blur of lights, heat, and bodies.

Pepe’s hand found your shoulder, guiding you toward him until your bodies were close, almost too close. Your heart was hammering in your chest, your head spinning from the proximity, the heat between you two, and the music that kept urging you forward. You couldn't help but lean towards his body, towards his touch.

But tonight, it felt different. The air between you both was electric, crackling with something you couldn’t ignore anymore. You were no longer hiding behind jokes and smart comments.

"Is that your way of telling me I should kiss you now?" Pepe teased, his voice low and soft as he stepped a little closer, the words rolling off his tongue like they were nothing, yet you could feel the weight of them.

You raised an eyebrow, the heat creeping up your neck at how close he was. "I never said that."

Pepe’s grin widened, but there was a vulnerability in his eyes you hadn’t seen before. "You didn’t have to." He brushed a strand of hair out of your face gently, and for a second, time seemed to slow down. His touch lingered, just for a beat, enough to make your heart race.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You both knew the game you were playing, the way the night was pushing you closer to something neither of you was ready to define.

But neither of you could look away from the other, trapped in the magic of the moment, the 'before the moment’s gone' feeling that kept the tension alive.

You swallowed, trying to fight back the smile that threatened to spread across your face. "Well, you might just be right," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

You leaned in, your lips brushing against his just as the song reached its peak. The chorus hit, and you felt everything fall into place. This moment, this feeling, everything.

Just like the song promised, you were caught in the rush of blood, the look of love in his eyes, and the heat of the party surrounding you both.

That was all it took for him to close the distance between you, his lips finding yours with the intensity of everything unspoken that had passed between you two over the past months.

The kiss was soft at first, almost tentative, as if both of you were waiting for the other to pull back. But when neither of you did, it deepened, like the moment had finally arrived and there was no turning back.

And then the song shifted, the chorus pounding in your chest like a heartbeat, and the world around you felt like it disappeared.

It was just the two of you. The look of love, the rush of blood, and the pull of something that felt like it could be more than just another night, just another party.

For once, you didn’t want the moment to end.

"Come on, come on, come on," he whispered against your lips, and you couldn’t help but smile.

"Before the moment's gone," you finished for him, and for the first time in a long time, you realized that maybe, just maybe, the moment you’d been waiting for was finally here.

It wasn’t supposed to be anything more than a quick thing, a flirtation, a fun moment in the midst of a party. But as the night wore on and the lyrics repeated in your mind, you realized that maybe this was something you wouldn’t let go of so easily.

"Number one party anthem," you whispered into his ear, and he smiled like he already knew what you meant.

For now, the night was yours.

[takamor]

cw/tw: dark content, afab gn reader, yandere-adjacent keigo, mentions of murder, very unhealthy relationship, dubcon with a little dash of noncon (keigo continues to bite reader after they say to stop), blood but it’s nothing super gore-y, smut, lots of biting, dacryphilia, sadomasochistic keigo, fingering, oral (fem receiving), idk this post really inspired this and it spiraled before i could even think of a plot, very little proofreading

he comes home covered in blood. it’s not the first instance of it, and it certainly won’t be the last, but it seems to leave you breathless every time he walks through the threshold of his your home, crimson mixed with gold, pupils blown wide and feathers quaking, looking every bit the apex predator his quirk allows him to be.

you don’t dare ask him who it is this time. it doesn’t really matter. as long as he can justify it to himself, no amount of tears or begging will ever sway him. you learned that lesson the first time this occurred. yelling at him, pleading, even throwing whatever you could grab only prompted him to pin you down so both of you were coated in his sin, and the smell of copper violated your nose as he stripped you of your morals and clothing. if anything, it only seemed encourage him, every time your nails nicked his skin and you begged, “keigo, please, don’t—” he was even kind enough to kiss your tears away afterwards. “you’ve got to understand,” he tried to bargain with you, but it was hard to see any shred of reason when there was still blood splattered across his cheek. “please understand, dove.” gold shining through ruby-stained skin, and all you wanted was to rub it all away with a warm washcloth, deny ever seeing it, because it was all for you.

this time, his golden eyes search your face, looking for any signs of disgust or rejection, as if that would ever be enough to make him stop. long, talon-like fingers twitch at his side, restless, still pumped full of adrenaline and murderous intent, needing to be buried in something before they seek more marrow to snap. the air between you two is heavy and swollen with so many words buried in reluctant enamel, hidden from the world and from each other’s ears, but not each other’s hearts. he knows you, knows how much you hate the metallic smell that is slowly becoming a cologne for him, and you know him, know how much your hatred for this only serves to fuel this fiery need to make it up to you somehow, to show you that there’s still good in him, he’s not a bad guy, he’s just protecting you.

“keigo.”

you somehow make his name sound a like a curse, like something shameful, something to be locked way in the back of a closet never to be seen again. his wings visibly deflate, and his fingers are wrapped around your arms before you have time to register he’s even moved. frantic gold locks onto your eyes, pleading, panicked at the thought of you being so cold towards him.

“keigo, that hurts,” you whine, and his grip loosens, but not enough for you to fight him off. you aren’t even sure if you have enough strength to even try fighting him off. it’s all slowly becoming a numbing routine.

then, the apologies start, as they always do.

keigo’s body shakes with uncertainty and the fear of abandonment, and he crumbles into your arms like a haphazard stack of cards, the weight of his body causing you to crumble as well. he’s not completely lost all sanity, not yet. he knows what he does is wrong—at least, morally it is. but, fuck, don’t you understand how cruel and thoughtless this world is? don’t you know just how corrupt and disgusting the underbelly of hero society is? he gets to see it every day, gets to go out and see how thin the line between chaos and peace is, gets to see what horrid people do to pretty little things like you. he plays the role of a hero and a villain, and that boundary blurs everytime greed comes into play. everything he does is to protect you, from keeping you in this safe location not even the hero public safety commission is aware of, to killing anyone who threatens your well-being. can’t you see that, dove? can’t you see how much he loves you? he’s sorry, he’s so sorry it has to come down to this but, goddammit, you’re worth it. he’d burn down this entire world and start something anew from the ashes if he has to. just please understand, dove, please.

“shh, kei, i’ve got you,” you coo into his blood-matted hair, because what else can you do at this point? keigo has made sure you have no other options. “i’ve got you. i’m here.”

the quaking calms enough for you to pull his head into your lap and brush the stray hair from his eyes, but the echo of fear still shakes his bones, causes his voice to tremble ever so slightly as he speaks. “you understand, don’t you? you understand why i—” he gulps and squeezes his eyes shut, as if he can’t stand the thought of not having your sympathy. “why i have to do this, right?”

you nod and run a finger through the copper-stain on his cheek. he shudders under the touch. “i know, baby.”

at that, his eyes fly open and he’s sitting upright, fingers wrapped around your arms once again, golden eyes borderline manic as they flit around your face. “see, you—you understand, right?” a pink tongue darts out to wet his lips, compliments the red on his cheek in a heart-wrenching way. and he’s so desperate for your approval, needs to hear your praise and coo over him, claws and pulls at the front of your shirt in a pathetic attempt at remaining in control of the anxiety gripping at the sides of his neck. “you understand?”

your hands come up to cup his face, and he preens under his touch, melts under the feeling of the pads of your thumbs brushing his scarlet cheeks. it twists your heart in a way that makes your rib cage feel too small. “of course i do, baby,” you coo, and it’s all he’s wanted to hear. “i understand. you’re just trying to keep me safe.” while i stay complicit with this fucked up game.

rough lips crash against yours in an enamel-shattering kiss, and you crawl into his lap to get a better angle. the taste of copper explodes on your tongue, and though you aren’t sure whose blood you’re tasting, it’s hard to care when keigo is whining so prettily under you. he breaks the kiss just to toss your shirt and bra off of your body, exposing your breasts to the heady air of the living room and his hungry mouth full of greedy teeth.

then, the sex starts, as it always does. as it always will.

you don’t even make it to the bedroom. he takes you right there, right on the living room floor, right at the scene of far too many crimes to count.

“tell me i’m good,” he pleads as his lips suck at your pebbling nipples. “fuck, tell me i’m good.”

trembling fingers bury themselves in his blond locks, a combination of a hiccup and moan leaves your lips. “you’re so good, kei, so fucking good.”

and because he feeds off of your approval just as much as you feed off of his desperation, sharp teeth pinch at your skin, embed themselves in the tender flesh of a lover that can clearly see how fucked up all of this is but is too jaded to care. compliant and mailable in the face of obsession and possession. just like how he likes. just like how he needs.

“you’d be dead without me,” he murmurs against the swell of your breast before biting another mark into it. “helpless without me. need me to keep you safe.”

your hips rut at the stinging sensation of belonging to a hero with a skewed sense of morality, and a broken moan stutters out of your heaving chest. “need you so badly, kei,” you whine, and the teeth buried in your skin pinch even harder at the admission. “nothing without you!”

“that’s fucking right. remember that.”

rows of porcelain made to mark snap at your neck while long fingers pinch and twist at your nipples, a deadly combination that has you rutting in his lap like a dog in heat, panting out his name, pulling at his blond hair, begging for more, more, more keigo, please more! he doesn’t listen however, your pleads only fueling him to keep poking and prodding at you until you bite and snap back just like how he likes. just like how he needs.

so he keeps biting, keeps pinching, makes his way down to your stomach, where he bites some more until there’s saliva and blood glistening on your skin under the harsh light of his your living room. and then his tongue soothes all of the marks he’s made, cleans the blood he’s smeared in his haste to stake his claim on you, golden eyes never leaving your face as he consumes you bit by bit.

you’re trembling in his lap by the time he licks his way up to your jugular, incisors brushing against the shell of your ear, gooseflesh running down your shoulders and arms.

“tell me i’m good,” he whispers before gently nibbling at the sensitive skin, and though he clearly has complete control over you right now, it’s as much of a plea as it was before, desperate at the edges of the syllables, something frail buried in between the words.

another whine echoes behind your lips and something akin to a sob causes your teeth-marked chest to shake. “you’re so good to me, keigo.”

the final bite to your jugular is the hardest of the onslaught, and it has you crying out loud in his arms, fingers clawing at him hard enough for his skin give way to hardened keratin, hiccups of “keigo, that hurts! please! fuck, that hurts!” echoing off of the walls of his your house. the vibrations of his groans against your neck lets you know he enjoys you fighting back, gets off on feeling you struggle against him, loves when you scratch and claw at him like a feral cat in need of taming.

he can feel your erratic pulse between his incisors, like a bird beating itself against the cage that traps it. bad-dum-bad-dum-bad-dum-bad-dum. he bites harder. kei-go-kei-go-kei-go-kei-go. salty copper splashes on his tongue, the stinging sensation of your fingernails breaking his skin open sets the tender flesh on his back on fire, and he hears the animalistic growl reverberating in his chest.

“kei—s-stop,” you sob, lips brushing against the shell of his ear, and his eyes roll to the back of his head. “that fucking hurts. stop! stop!” god, he loves when you’re like this—sobbing and scratching and fighting and pleading. it’s a high nothing else could possibly match. “kei—”

but he keeps going, despite how much you claw and hit at his back, how much you twist and turn in his arms, how many tears slip down your cheek and mix in with your blood on his tongue. he’s a predator with his prey between his teeth, and he intends on enjoying his kill tonight.

adrenaline pumps through your veins thick and hot. keigo is never satisfied until he knows he’s broken you a little, but you aren’t sure just how much of you there is left to break. his incisors are digging into your neck, drawing blood out and dribbling down your neck, and you’re afraid he might just drain you completely.

“keigo—stop, goddammit!”

fists pound against his back in a feeble attempt to get him to stop, but it’s the feeling of your nails breaking through the skin of his cheek that eventually gets him to relinquish his hold.

fat tears roll down your cheeks as his tongue soothes what’s sure to be a bruise, crimson smearing across your neck and chest. quiet sobs shake your frame in his arms as his fingers trace serene patterns across your bare back, a direct juxtaposition to the hot pain radiating across your hot flesh.

“shh, shh,” he coos, fingers petting the back of your head as he rocks your body. “i’ve got you, dove.”

“i hate you.”

“i know.”

and as a reward for your efforts to fight him off, he has you folded in half, knees pressed against your shoulders, bottoms to the side because he can’t starve off this hunger any longer. he needs you.

he devours your cunt as if it contains his very salvation. his tongue laps at the pearl of your clit, flattens against it until you’re preening underneath him and reaching out—to stop him? to encourage him? he isn’t sure, but he catches your hand and laces his fingers with yours anyway. with a mixture of your juices and blood swimming in his mouth as his tongue draws patterns into your cunt, he thinks he could get high off of this. he thinks he might already be.

“kei! kei—fuck! oh my fucking god, keigo!”

he hums against your heat. “i know, baby, i know.”

just a little more.

tears flow freely down your face as you feel keigo’s breath fan across your sopping pussy. your thighs are trembling, fingers shaking in his as he continues to pin you down, and you think he likes it best when you’re vulnerable like this. the hardness you feel bumping against your rear as he delves more into your cunt indicates he does. you think you like it, too. the way your heartbeat drums away in between your legs indicates you do.

bad-dum-bad-dum-bad-dum-bad-dum. his slides two fingers in your sticky walls. ei-go-kei-go-kei-go-kei-go.

“tell me i’m good,” he moans out while his fingers curl inside of you. “fuck, baby, tell me i’m good, please.”

“you’re—shit!—awful, keigo takami,” you hiccup out. “i hate—fuck! right here, please, please, god, yes!—you.”

his thumb stretches out to rub at your puffy clit, and you swear you see stars explode behind your eyes, beautiful nebulae that his hands created. “i know.”

every time he bows his back to lap at your cunt, he feels the stings of your scratches stretch and pull, evidence of your distain towards him, and it’s like having a reminder of how much of your love he has to earn. he’s so close to it, he knows it. just as close as you are to cumming for him.

“there we go,” he hums as he feels your walls fluttering around his fingers. “c’mon, give it to me, dove. give it to me.”

try as you might, your body obeys before you can resist him, and you’re cumming in the palm of his hand, cumming against the very same mouth that just drew blood from you. shame washes over you the second you come down from your high, but you don’t have a moment to dwell before keigo is coming up for air, his mouth covered in your juices and blood, porcelain shining bright through the crimson. and, by god, he looks gorgeous—comparable to lucifer himself before his fall—lapping up his fingers, pink tongue poking out and licking up any remaining blood it can reach.

it’s not fair.

and he knows he’s got you, pupils dilated, bite-ridden chest heaving, legs still trembling with the aftershock of your orgasm, heart fluttering in the base of your blood-stained throat. his fucking masterpiece.

shaking hands tug off his pants and underwear, fingers clumsily pulling apart buttons and shoving down fabric, as if he can’t even comprehend not being inside of you for a second longer.

fitting him is always a stretch, but he loves taking his time, loves feeling how your body struggles to accommodate him. he isn’t big by any means—fairly average, all things considered—but your body still hesitates to accept him, still identifies him as a threat—an intruder.

“kei—,” you gasp out.

he kisses away your tears, leaves a bloody imprint of his lips smeared on your cheeks. “i know, baby.” he sinks in a little more, testing. “tell me i’m good.”

you grind your teeth together to keep a moan at bay. “no.”

but despite how much your heart fights it, your body accepts him at last, and he bottoms out with a loud groan.

then he’ll have to earn it. just like he always does. just like he always will.

as his cock slowly, almost lazily, drags against your walls, his mouth worries at the new wound on the side of your throat, kisses and licks and soothes all of the stinging made by greedy enamel. it’s almost enough to forget how much pain he had caused. almost.

“feel so good,” keigo moans out and snaps his hips against yours. “fuck, you make me crazy.”

your hamstring burns at being kept in such a position for as long as you have been, but the pleasure keigo provides is enough of a reward for your pain. as twisted as the hero is, he knows all of the right spots to hit, knows how to angle his hips and how to cradle your body so you're just barely hanging onto your own sanity. he's had more than enough practice, after all.

“kei—please,” you mewl out. “need you!”

the bones of his hips dig into the plush of the back of your thighs, and he chuckles darkly as he hears you hiccup again. "thought you hated me,” he replies with a shit-eating grin. “thought i was awful.”

shaking fists reach up to pound at him again, but he just kisses your knuckles instead. a part of you melts a little. “you are,” you gasp out as a well-aimed thrust has you spasming around him. “and i do. but that doesn’t mean i don’t need you.”

something inside of keigo shatters at that. he pulls out just enough to lift you up so you’re no longer folded in half underneath him, but rather seated in his lap instead, so he can watch firsthand just how much you need him. there’s nothing gentle about the way he re-enters you, all needy lips pressed against bloody skin and sloppy thrusts trying to find their way to your bliss. your arms wrap around his neck, pull him closer to you, and his mouth immediately goes back to his bitemark, back to soothing the sting of needing him.

“tell me i’m good,” he begs one final time, golden eyes pleading with you as his hips thrust up into you.

“you’re so fucking good, kei,” you obey, and it’s the best phrase keigo has ever heard, his own personal hymn, especially when it’s said earnestly instead of verbosely.

spurred on by this new motivation, keigo’s thrusts become more frantic, more needy, desperate to earn so much of your approval his heart may burst into ribbons between his ribs. he fucks your body underneath his once again, lips pressed against yours, but this time your thighs are around his waist and his hands are tangled in your hair, sharing the same breath, moaning openly into each other's mouths, swapping bloodstained admissions of love and affection as you lose yourselves in each other.

“fuck, dove, you’re like a vice on me,” he groans as he feels you flutter around him. “let it go for me, yeah? show me how good i am.”

when you cum this time, you have wholly accepted that it’s keigo takami covered in blood and tears making you do so. his name leaves your lips in a series of sputtered gasps and moans and pleas, cunt gripping onto him with no intentions of ever letting go, and he loses himself in his own release as he feels your fingernails digging into his back.

he cleans you up in a shared warm bath afterwards, the imprints of his teeth still on your body and your scratches on his, and he thinks it's romantic, how you've both left your marks on each other. his nuzzles against your neck.

“i love you.”

“i know.”

[destinygoldenstar]

TRAILERRRRRR!!!!!

Okay, so Netflix DIDN'T lie. Confirmed.

I'm NOT as scared about the release date as others. I'm still worried. But I can also see it because from what I've heard, Episodes 2-4 were being made around the same time. So, by that logic, the quality should be similar.

"But why was there such a gap with 2 & 3 then?" MURDER DRONES WAS RELEASING ITS FINALE IN BETWEEN. THAT'S WHY. Some of the animators for Digital Circus work on Murder Drones too. So OF COURSE, to avoid overworking them, there'd be a gap for Digital Circus content.

And now that Murder Drones has ended, there's not that issue anymore.

That's the logic I'm going with, anyway. I would wait to raise the red flags till AFTER this episode comes out and we hear Episode 5 comes out in, like, a month or something.

I HOPE TO GOD THAT LINE AGES HORRIBLY.

Also, um... an episode about working minimum wage labor.

These episodes are built for me, I swear.

We also have the characters in different outfits, which is neat. Clearly just for this episode. Still.

I NOTICED THIS POSTER.

"Customer is always right! Serve with a smile!"

THE AMOUNT OF TIMES I HAVE BEEN TOLD THIS IS INSANE AND DRIVES ME ABSOLUTELY NUTS.

I WOULD GET SCOFFED AT AND SCREAMED AT BY PEOPLE, AND I'M THE ONE THAT GETS IN TROUBLE.

We also have Ragatha and Gangle interacting.

I wonder why they're playing with a baseball specifically.

Because in the last episode the leisure activity played into the adventure.

JAX'S NAMETAG SAYS "I DON'T CARE"

LMAO

Gangle looks like she's been possessed by Monokuma.

This is DEFINATELY a new mask.

Here's my prediction:

Gangle has a background actress-related. (Comedy & Tragedy Mask Duality) And she is bullied CONSTANTLY in the previous episodes.

So when she's given the role of manager, she creates a new mask for herself, A NEW CHARACTER. One that gives her confidence and a character so ruthless that she can't be pushed around.

It's her spotlight. It's her time to shine.

So is the comedy&tragedy duality bipolar disorder?

We'll see. I got Kinger's mental issue wrong.

It could also be that Gangle is autistic. I KNOW AS AN AUTISTIC PERSON MYSELF. It's pretty easy for autistic people to latch onto a character they can bring to life in order to interact with people. But when provoked as themselves, confidence can easily break.

So no, I don't think she's being psychotic. I think she's putting on an act for her self esteem.

And I think whatever damage she causes in the episode will not have malicious intent from her.

I say this because we ALSO see her looking at herself in the mirror.

THIS IS ZOOBLE'S ROOM BTW. THAT'S INTERESTING.

Did Zooble loan Gangle this?

Assuming they did because we have THIS hand reach out to Gangle.

So what I'm thinking the start of the episode is: Gangle and Ragatha are playing baseball, by accident, the ball breaks Gangle's masks.

She's crying, she's writing, and then Zooble eavesdrops and offers to help.

And we know this is Zooble's hand because they're participating in the adventure with that hand.

YAY!

This guy is so stiffly animated. Or maybe it's just me.

Maybe there's a story reason for it. Idk.

They advertised this guy awhile back, said "He's everyone's favorite character".

I'm calling Glitch's bluff. I'm gonna say this guy is going to be VERY INTENTIONALLY written to be UNLIKEABLE, ANNOYING, AND MISERABLE.

And it's gonna be COMEDY GOLD to have Caine and the Circus go around exclaiming how he's the best.

CAINE GETTING THIS SUGGESTION BOX IS SO INTERESTING.

I THINK this is from Zooble.

After their therapy session, and Zooble saw first hand what could happen if Caine cuts adventures altogether, I can see Zooble making adventure suggestions that would be comfortable for them to participate in. To please Caine and to protect the circus from collapsing.

We're also getting Caine lore. BECAUSE WHERE IS THIS ROOM SUPPOSED TO BE? THIS LOOKS FAR TOO NORMAL.

AND WHAT IS POMNI DOING HERE CRAWLING ON THE FLOOR?

First off, I'm okay with her taking a backseat. She's the main character so obviously she'd get the lionshare of screen time. BUT there are other characters in this show and the show knows that. So as a Pomni Stan, I'm completely okay with this.

BUT is she snooping on Caine???

Two possibilities: One, this is just the burger place. Which is likely.

OR this is where Caine is, and she dips from the adventure to eavesdrop and figures out some lore stuff.

Not seeing her doing much else this episode anyway.

CAUSE LOOK AT THIS. SHE'S TRYING TO THROW AWAY SOMETHING AND GETS CAUGHT BY GANGLE? SHE HIDING S&#T DOG.

THE GLOINK QUEEN IS BACK.

Probably as just a cameo. BUT THE GLOINK QUEEN IS BACK.

Hmmmm... if the Gloink Queen is coming back, I wonder if someone else could show up...

[solarpunkani]

"Oh no, someone's attracted to the aesthetics of my -punk movement but doesn't know the praxis and history behind it like I do--"

OK. Tell them. Make it a teaching moment. Everyone who's in your movement learned the background from somewhere at some point, maybe this is that point for that person. Give them a jumping off point that they can dive into later.

"Oh but I shouldn't be responsible for teaching baby -punks about the history and the how-tos and--"

OK. Then don't tell them. You don't have to be responsible for teaching people with a budding interest in your group the ins and outs and how-tos. That's fair and valid! It can be a lot of work. Someone else will handle it

"But I'm annoyed that they would try to claim to be part of/be interested in my community without knowing all the details that I know after being in it for months/years/decades, they're dumb, they're posers, they're--"

OK. Then don't engage with them, if it's that bad. Maybe someone else will come around and tell them the history, maybe they'll pick it up on their own, maybe they'll just enjoy the fashion elements for awhile.

"But they shouldn't claim to be part of the -punk community if they don't know the--"

I feel like we have a few options here. People can either talk to them, share the history, share the values, share the praxis. Or they can just chase off anyone who even thinks about dipping a toe in their community, and then wonder why it's dying off later down the line.

I dunno, maybe I'm too naive and patient or whatever. But if people are entering your -punk spaces without knowing The Rundown of what you feel they need to know, maybe being nice about it and informing people instead of immediately assuming stupidity and malicious intent could help you make a new friend. Even the loudest voices in a space had to learn from somewhere, and not everyone has the luxury of being in the space as the History was Happening--whether it's an age thing or a not being aware of the space thing. Or maybe I just don't see what the big deal is behind people hating people who like the aesthetic of something and don't know the behind the scenes history about it yet.

Because I believe in the word 'yet.' No one comes into this world knowing everything about everything, and we're all constantly learning new things. I'm not gonna degrade someone and call them a poser for not knowing what I know. Because if it were me, interested in a scene but getting chased out and called a poser? I wouldn't hit the books and study up, I'd go 'that fuckin sucks, those people sucked' and then avoid anyone and anything having to do with it.

So chase people off and call them posers if you want. But if your community starts dwindling, don't be fucking shocked.

[shannonsketches]

[dykedvonte]

My post about Anya is making like a little ruckus on Twitter and I think it’s crazy how many people like have a problem with it.

Like you don’t have to agree with how I characterize Anya and her actions but it’s more like, why are you focused on only one aspect of her character? Why are you removing nuance from the situation? I don’t see it as giving Curly the benefit of the doubt when it comes to doing better for Anya, but as exploring his character and hers relationship with a the very little authentic facts we get about them. In truth, there’s a lot more I wish Curly did, even if it wasn’t pragmatic but I realize the issue there.

The first psychological horror game in a while that’s real intricate in its storytelling and makes you need to really need to address the morality of intentions and its already getting torn asunder smh 😔

[a-most-beloved-fool]

I don't draw all that regularly anymore, but since it is Spocktober, please accept a handful of Spocks (and one Kirk).

[longagoitwastuesday]

I keep thinking that this Gojo is just like Sukuna. I truly don't see much of a difference between them beyond the human/curse point of view

[amorisxx]

When I see people say they can’t imagine Tashi not being in love with Art if she had a whole child with him

Or when they say Art can’t be interpreted as homosexual because he’s married to and has a child with Tashi

[boxwinebaddie]

Hi Uncle Neen! HYH! It sucks to see you struggling cuz you are a big inspiration of mine :( but you said you did your makeup the other day. Can we seeeeeeeeee maybe?

d'awwww ksahdlkdss, you are so sweet, nonnie! thank you so so soooo much, baby! xx i really needed this. i hope i heal ( i will...i have to, i am too much of an asshole to let god win, fuck him ) and i hope you heal from whatever harms you as well! you can do it! mWAH!~

-- also brb crying ;-; <3333 whenever y'all tell me i inspire you, it seriously makes me want to cry; you mean SO much to me, so to mean so much to you; it's Everything to me, my love. thank you for believing in me, know i believe infinitely in YOU and will keep fighting the good fight, living authentically and modelling pos behavior on this blog bc i take being a role model very seriously. :')

BUT ANYWAYS! sakhdlasd oh my god aaAaaAAAaa please!!! YOU ARE SO CUTE, THIS IS SO CUTE OF YOU, hELP AAAAA!!!!!! but yes, of course, of course. considering i am super bacteria nina right now and had to resign from my ( admittedly ) trash job and am no longer, at this moment, an education girlie ( besides on here, ofc, educating you on my two gay sons in love ), i can freely exist and post pictures of myself again! thank you for for giving me a safe place to do that. <3

i'll elaborate on what 'safe' means to me down below, but just for context i took this...sigh...last week, when i was told i would 'all better', just trying to feel like myself again after a month of being unmadeup and unfitted and ugly and troll-like and on death fucking row and fucking miserable as hell, i had my new hair appointment lined up, was about ready to take life by the balls again...and that shit BLUE BALLED ME SO HARD AND SAID *ravenstan vc* JK, BABY!

okay, sorry i have some really bad scarring and wounding up there by my neck so i had to cover her up but...there she is! the she beast!

as for posting pictures of myself just...please...PLEASE BE KIND. and i wish i meant that as a joke, i mean it very, VERY seriously. i am at a point right now, where i look my very fucking worst, i am weaker than i have ever been in my life, there are abrasions all over my body, which per the results of my culture ( i was right...several fucking times and no one would listen to me ) my body is trying to kill me and right now...it is Winning. ( i'm not gonna lose tho, dw, i am a nasty bitch from hell and i refuse to die this ugly, i fucking won't; choke )

tldr; I AM VERY VERY VERY SENSITIVE ABOUT HOW I LOOK. I DO NOT FEEL PRETTY, I AM LIKE ONE BAD COMMENT AWAY FROM TEARING THE SKIN OFF MY FACE AND I AM TELLING YOU GUYS I CANNOT DO THAT, I CANT CREATE ANY TEARING ON MY BODY OR THE BACTERIA WILL TUNNEL AND ITS HARD ENOUGH AS A BITCH WITH DERMATILOMANIA.

PLEASE BE NICE TO ME.

i know we shoot the shit on here and are funny and clown eachother, you guys are my family; it's what families do, but my boundary is that you can say i am pretty and be objectively kind or Please do not send me anything At ALL about how i look; i CANNOT take it rn. i know were just joking, but please, please, PLEASE Do NOT compare me to any ugly creatures, make me feel weird about any part of my face, tell me i look blurry, say anything is too big or too small…

please don’t meme on me abt my appearance...Ever.

it’s a very sensitive spot for me and makes me v anxious.

all this to say, i love you; thank you for being my home.

HYH.

-uncle nina, single ravesey mother and human petri dish

[bonestrouslingbones]

btw one of the things i want to do when i really rap up atbb for real is spontaneously get the energy at will to do actual updated fullbodies of the main 4 since now i actually have the ability to draw them the way they look in my head & have the skills to put some more variety in their shapes. basically i wanna