#including accurate time flips!

[relto]

optimization journey: glue 10000+ arrays together for each data channel -> reduce number of array glueing required by doing 32 sequences at once -> NO array glueing at all!

[pipermca]

New AO3 Tag Wrangling Policy and the Transformers Fandom

(This is a long one, folks, but I think it's important.)

A new tag-wrangling policy on AO3 has the potential to create some massive confusion and chaos in the Transformers fanfic community, with regards to fandom tags. There is a Reddit post about it here with a focus on anime fandoms, but I want to give some concrete examples for the Transformers fandom on why we DO NOT WANT this, and why I think it's a horrible idea.

The Problem

Basically, AO3 is looking to get rid of the "All Media Types" fandom tag across the board, either by dismantling them or just not maintaining them. The Transformers - All Media Types tag has been an all-purpose tag that you could select when your story doesn't fall into any one specific continuity. Additionally, all most (see below) TF continuities on AO3 are considered a subtag of the Transformers - All Media Types tag. For example, if you look at the link above for all works in the All Media Types tag, you will see fics that are also tagged ONLY with Transformers: Animated, because it falls under the All Media Types tag.

One exception: With the upcoming Transformers: One movie coming out imminently, there will likely be a big influx of stories tagged with Transformers: One. In fact, there are several already. However, it hasn't been linked to the larger Transformers - All Media Types tag yet. I wasn't worrying about it though, because I know these things can take time.

With information about this new tagging policy, however, I'm now wondering whether it'll EVER get linked to the All Media Types tag. If that happens, and when more continuities are developed in the coming years (since you know Hasbro loves creating new universes) this has the potential to cause massive confusion when looking for stories to read.

Searching for Stories with the New Tagging System

So let's say the All Media Types fandom tag isn't accurate anymore, because it no longer includes ALL of the continuities (such as TF:One). You will need to include ALL the Transformers continuities when browsing for TF fics.

How many tags is that? Well, here are all of the tags currently listed under the Transformers - All Media Types tag:

Note that this doesn't include Transformers: One since it hasn't been categorized yet.

You will potentially have to have 40 or more different fandom tags in your search, just in case the author tagged their story with something you weren't expecting.

This massively decreases the findability of a story.

Tagging with the New System

The email response from the Tag Wrangling group (see the linked Reddit post above) seems to be a bit flip in the response to the user's concern. "...encourages creators to tag with the media they intend."

While I appreciate what they are attempting to do, this policy change feels like a solution in search of a problem, especially in larger fandoms with multiple continuities, versions, and media types that are all cross-pollinated in both canon and fanon. While I'm focusing on Transformers fandom, imagine a creator in the DC comic universe writing a story that incorporates bits and pieces from a dozen different reboots.

For example, let's say that I am writing a fic about Ratchet. I am using the setting of the original G1 episodes, but I also am using the characterization of him as a bit of an old man grump. That characterization originated in the Animated continuity, but I want to incorporate bits of pieces of his other characterizations as well (old friend of Optimus from TFP, Ratchet ran a faction-free clinic like he did in the War for Cybertron series, he's got a Decepticon boyfriend like in IDW1 - or maybe even Cyberverse, etc.)

With this new tagging structure, I might potentially have to tag the story with ALL of those continuities. So instead of just slapping down the "All Media Types" tag (and maybe one other fandom tag that matches the characters as best I can), I'll have to analyze my story and try to figure out how best to tag for the characters I used.

And what if you're doing a completely AU version of the story? For example, a humanformers story, or merformers? Using the All Media Types tag along with a Alternate Universe - Human or Alternate Universe - Mermaid tag worked perfectly, since you weren't writing the story to fit into one specific continuity. But now, that might not be an option.

What To Do??

The first thing I would suggest is to contact AO3 (using the Feedback and Support page) and let them know (nicely) that you think this is a horrible idea. Give them some examples on how you use the All Media Types tag to find stories to read, or to help you tag a story. People outside of the Transformers fandom don't always appreciate how absolutely tangled the continuities can be with each other, and providing examples might help them see why this would be a really messy change.

Readers: Be aware that when you are looking in the All Media Types tag, it will no longer show newer continuities. And if AO3 starts dismantling that tag like they suggested they are doing, be aware that some stories won't show up in that tag like they used to. You can also create and then bookmark a custom search page that includes all 40+ continuities. REALLY annoying, but it's a workaround.

Writers: Until they start dismantling the All Media Types tag, ALWAYS ALWAYS tag your stories using Transformers - All Media Types... Especially for newer continuities. This will be especially important if you are writing a Transformers: One story. Right now, anyone who is only browsing the All Media Types tag will not see a story tagged only with Transformers: One. Make sure you're aware of how tags work and how they can affect the visibility and findability of your story.

Epilogue

Ugh. That's a lot of words for a long-weekend Saturday. And maybe I'm overreacting a tiny bit. But my work involves information architecture, and this change just absolutely baffles me. It's almost as though they want to make it harder to find stories. Considering that AO3 won a Hugo partially because of its fantastic tagging system, this change seems like AO3 is doing its best to shoot itself in the foot.

When you have a square hole, a round hole, and a rectangular hole… Yeah, you DO want each peg to go in the "right" hole. But if all of the pegs fit in the square hole, who cares? You got the job done.

I love you @ao3org, but please reconsider this change... Especially for IPs that are as old and are as varied as Transformers.

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

DRABBLE: YOU SPEAK HIS NATIVE LANGUAGE TO HIM (18+) (One Piece) (for Fem!Readers)

Writer's Note: I had this idea after remembering that Luffy is Brazilian. Enjoy! And please, PLEASE let me know if any of the foreign phrases used are not correct or accurate. I did the research on Google. Thank you! -Jazz

*********

LUFFY (PORTGUESE) 

You always loved it when Luffy spoke in his native language. 

He is from Brazil and though he hadn’t lived there in years since meeting Shanks and traveling among the Grand Line with the Strawhats crew, nothing and nobody could ever take the Brazilian out of him. It was in his blood. 

He always made it known with the Brazilian recipes he would ask Sanji to make and the music he would blast across the ship. Usually, this resulted in him forcing you to dance him with and holding your hips as his his swayed and rolled in ways that often resulted in your knees going weak and every part of you becoming tingly and sensitive (including the places where Luffy usually had his mouth on). 

He wouldn’t speak Portuguese often; only sometimes and at random moments, like when something exciting happened or when he was asleep. You would catch him mumbling words in his native tongue as he drooled on the pillow, making you giggle.

He would do it during sex too, usually when his tongue was buried deep in your pussy: “Você tem um gosto tão bom, mama. Deliciosa (You taste so good, mama. Delicious.),” he would mumble into your pussy while you whimpered and moaned.

Or when he had his cock buried deep inside of you as he hammered away at your insides, gripping and smacking your ass: “Tão bom! (So good!)” he’d moan into the bedroom. “C’mon, mama, cum with me! Goze comigo!” 

His usual high-pitched voice would get deeper and raspier in his native tongue as each foreign words rolled and flipped on his tongue. It would make you combust every single time, cumming all over his cock at the same time as him bursting inside of you. He would then peck your forehead once you snuggled up together, his hat on your head. “Te amo,” he’d whisper, never telling you what it meant, but you had a feeling. 

So after picking up on some of his lines and inflections, you decided to try out speaking his language one night. It was a boring night and Sanji was cooking, trying to get Luffy out of the kitchen as he groaned and complained about being hungry.

“Y/N, would you please come get him?” Sanji sighed. “He won’t leave and I’m not gonna have him sneaking the ingredients off of the counter to eat.” 

“I’m not gonna do that!” Luffy protested. “I told you so, Sanji!”

You had giggled and walked to the stereo sitting on the table, playing one of Luffy's favorite songs that was popular in Brazil. The captain’s head immediately shot up from the table, his big eyes staring at you. You smiled and began to sway to the music, opening your arms for him. 

With the biggest grin on his face, he shot up and went to you, immediately gathering you into his arms. You giggled as he pressed his face into the crook of your neck and held your hips as he began to sway with you, your senses invaded by nothing but him. He softly sang the lyrics to you, his voice raspy and soft, each word rolling off of the tongue. He sang has if the very song was written for you and you decided now was the perfect moment. 

“Luffy?” you whispered. He pulled away to look down at you, looking like a confused puppy. You cupped his face in your hands and pressed a kiss to his lips before whispering, very low, “Te amo.” 

Once those gears in his head started turning, you’ve never seen him look so happy. His smile grew about ten sizes before he gripped you to him and coated your face in kisses. “Hey, hey!” Sanji yelled. “Not while I’m cooking! Do that outside!” 

ZORO (JAPANESE) 

Compared to Luffy, Zoro barely spoke Japanese. 

He would only mutter his native language in swears when he was stressed or angry. Other than that, you could never catch him doing it. He barely even spoke about Japan as a whole.

“Why you askin’ so many questions?” he would grumble, glaring at your curious gaze. “I haven’t been there since I was a baby. Go read up on it or somethin’.” 

But when he did speak Japanese, and that was very rare, you loved it. His voice would get even deeper when he spoke the foreign swear words during a battle and it would make your heart skip several beats. You wanted to somehow coax him to speak it more or even be closer to him than you already were. 

So you started teaching yourself Japanese. You collected as many language books as you could during your stops on islands when walking into town with Nami and Robin and began practicing. In two months, you began speaking in sentences though not professionally or fluently. However, you got each inflection down. 

The first time you said something in Japanese to Zoro, he was busy working out one hot, boring day and you had wandered in, feeling extra bratty. “What?” he demanded, grunting as he did his bench presses, his muscles bulging and glistening in sweat. 

“Just came to see if you broke up with your dumbbell yet,” you asked sarcastically. “I don’t know how the cuddling at night works, but to each its own.” 

Zoro cut his forest green eyes your way before going back to his exercises, barely pausing. “Woman, if you’re gonna come in here with that shit, leave it at the door. You know I need to focus on my training.” 

“But you’re already so strong, Zo!” you protested, padding farther into the room. “And a great fighter. You can spare one day without training.”

Though Zoro looked pleased with the praise, he still didn’t let up and continued to pump those sexy arms away at his presses. Pursing your lips, you walked over to him and kneeled down before him, just as he lifted the dumbbell up and put it back up on the rack behind his head. 

You began to run your hands up his thick, tree trunk-like thighs in his green slacks, squeezing the muscles and digging your nails deliciously into them. He liked that. He tensed immediately at your touch, breathing heavily from the workout. “Stop that,” he growled. “I’m tryin’ to cool down.” 

“Then let me help you,” you purred, sneaking your hand over his cock to give it a squeeze. You were pleased to find that he was already hard. He grunted at the contact and began to squirm under your touch. “I mean it, Y/N,” he panted. “Cut it out.” 

You looked up at him then, staring boldly into his eyes. "Watashi o tsukuru (make me)”, you said in a low, breathy voice that often made your man go absolutely insane. 

At the sound of his native language coming from your lips, the swordsman sat up straight and stared down at you, astounded and extremely aroused. His cock grew in your hand as a blush appeared on his cheeks.

“What did you say?” he questioned, his voice dangerously low. You just smiled and stood up, tearing your hand away from his cock.

“Now are you gonna spend time with me?” you questioned, a hand on your hip and arching a brow at him. 

While this didn't get him out of the training room, it did help tear him away from his workout to instead work you out, your legs spread over his bench and his cock pummeling your insides as he whispered how good you felt in Japanese.

Mission accomplished. 

SANJI (FRENCH) 

Sanji always felt proud of his ethnicity and heritage, so he always made it a point to speak his native language. 

Like Luffy, it would be at random moments. He could be cooking and would mutter to himself in French about instructions or maybe lyrics to a song.

Sometimes, he would swear if he nearly dropped a bottle of sauce or about the noise Luffy and Usopp would make outside the kitchen door. But always, when he served you and the crew, he would give you all a bright, proud smile and a “Bon appétit!”. 

And always, always, he would speak French during sex. He would whisper in your ear about how good you felt and how sweet you tasted, his words like honey in your ears.

“Je me send is bien en too, princesse, (I feel so good inside you, princess)” he’d moan into the tense, sexed-up air of your bedroom, your ankles on his broad shoulders as his cock stroked your insides. “Tellement parfait. Si belle. (So perfect. So beautiful).”

He would kiss your foot before taking one of your toes into your mouth. 

That would usually set you off like a rocket, making you cum all over the bed and his cock. And because he thought you were so pretty, he would always explode deep inside you, filling you to the brim. That’s part of why he always let his native tongue slip in the bedroom with you. 

Other than the nasty shit, he would always tell you, “Je t’aime”. When he would kiss you; before you went to bed; when you’d separate for an expedition or when when you’d go to the other side of the ship. It was only right as the love chef. “Je t’aime,” he’d say, an adoring smile on his face and hearts in his eyes. It would make you tingle and feel warm all over you. 

So you surprised him one night when he cooked dinner specifically for you before the crew even ate. “Sanji, baby, you didn’t have to make me a whole separate meal,” you giggled as you sat down in the chair he pulled out for you. “I would’ve eaten the lamb!” 

“Nonsense,” he tutted, looking sexy in his apron dusted with flour and spices. “You said you didn’t like lamb too much. And believe me, honey: fixin’ grilled fish for you is nothing compared to what these hooligans want.” He then pressed a kiss to your cheek and whispered, “Bon appétit, my love” before hurrying back to the stove to check the yeast rolls in the oven. 

You stared down at the dinner spread on your plate: grilled fish drizzled in lemon and garlic with a side of honey-glazed, oven-roasted carrots, kus kus, and steamed broccoli. You cut a piece of the fish and put it into your mouth, humming in pleasure at the taste. You turned to Sanji, his back to you, as you gushed over the food. “This food is delicious, Sanji!” you said. "C'est trés bon! (It's very good!)” 

Sanji visibly paused before turning around to look at you, confused. Your smile grew and you lowered your fork. “Mes compliments au chef (My compliments to the chef),” you giggled. Before you could take a breath, Sanji was flying across the kitchen and planting kisses all over your face as you giggled. “Since when do you speak French, my love?” he laughed, giddy. 

“I’ve been practicing,” you hummed, playing with the color of his shirt. “I wanted to impress you.” Hearts in his eyes, Sanji pressed his forehead against yours. “And impress me, you did, mon there,” he murmured. “Now finish that food so I can hear more of my native tongue coming out of those sweet lips.” 

You did and while he had you bent over the kitchen counter while the crew ate in the other room, you repeated one word to him, over and over again, as he pummeled inside of you: “Je t’aime”. 

LAW (GERMAN) 

Law never spoke German. Or at least, not in front of you or the Hearts crew. 

“What’s the need?” he asked when you asked him to teach you something in his native tongue. “I haven’t lived there in years. Why are you so interested in my language anyway?” You would tell him you were curious, but that wouldn’t make him budge. 

You found it sad. Though he claimed he felt pride in his ethnicity and his native land, he barely mentioned his time there or taught you any phrases. So, in order to coax him into it, you fixed him a German dish. One day when the ship docked on a little island, you ran out to town to grab the ingredients for it and fixed it for him that night. It took a lot of preparation and stressing over whether or not he’d respond well to it, but that night, you sat the crew down for dinner. 

“I made something special for y’all,” you giggled, smiling secretively at Law. He scowled in confusion and suspicion at you, not sure what you were up to, until the crew took the silver covers off of their plates to reveal their meal: slices of roasted pork shoulder glazed with a cumin sauce and sitting on a bed of roasted potatoes and peppers. “Ta-da!” you shouted. “Sh-wen-braten!” 

At you mispronouncing the name, the corner of Law’s lips quirked a bit while his crew barely blinked. They were too busy drooling over and gobbling down their food. “Wow, Y/N!” Bepo growled. “This tastes amazing! I haven't tasted pork this good in so long!” 

“Thank you,” you giggled, but your attention was still all on Law as he took a bite. You stood behind his chair, nervously ringing a dish towel around your hands. “How is it?” you asked, bending down to hear him better over the chatter. 

He continued to chew and chew, leaving you in suspense, before he swallowed. “S’good,” he murmured and you sighed in relief. “Though you pronounced the dish wrong.” You made a face, pouting cutely in confusion at him. “It’s pronounced “schweinebraten,” he said, his deep voice rolling over the foreign word.

“Sch.” He paused, waiting for you to repeat it back to him. “Weine.” You parroted him, doing your best to keep from smiling out of giddiness. “Braten.” 

“Braten,” you pronounced, earning a satisfied nod before he turned back around to finish his meal. But you weren't done. you leaned down to his ear, loving how he tensed at your touch and presence. “Between you and me, I already knew how to pronounce it,” you purred. “I just wanted to hear you say it. Guten appetit (Enjoy your meal).” 

Something happened to Law in that moment hearing you speak in his language. His cock swoll in his pants and he nearly broke his fork as he sat rigid in his seat. You turned and walked away back to the stove, swaying your hips and biting back a grin as he watched, wanting to fuck you right there in front of his entire crew and make you say some very nasty words in his native tongue. 

“Law, why are all red like that?!” Jean practically yelled across the table. 

“Shut up!” Law growled as you laughed. He was gonna get you back for that later tonight.

[locusfandomtime]

Doing the maths: Grian's failure at getting a mending book

lots of talk about maths and probabilities below the cut! but there's a graph and simple explanation at the end if you want to get the gist of it and are bad at maths.

(I am still young and learning maths, critique/advice always welcomed)

What are the odds of getting a mending book in Minecraft?

(I am assuming Grian has been doing all his fishing with Luck of the Sea 3)

The probability of a mending book is actually a bit annoying to estimate. The Minecraft Wiki lists fishing up an enchanted book as 1.9% chance. This is for ANY enchanted book. The Minecraft wiki talks about how the chance of an enchantment being selected is calculated. Mending has a weight of 2. Using the table, mending has a probability of 2/135.

However, Grian is looking for any book with mending, not just a pure mending book. Additional enchantments are calculated in a different way, involving RNG, which means it won't be as easy to model. Due to this reason, I'll just be using the odds for a pure mending book throughout.

TLDR: a mending book has a 0.028..% chance (2/135*0.019*100)

Grian's Data

According to this screenshot, Grian has used a fishing rod 5679 times. This number may not be fully accurate, as it includes the times he's fished other players, rather than just fished for items, but it is a good estimate.

To help visualise this data, with a median waiting time between catches of 17.5 seconds, Grian has spent over 20 hours fishing so far! He may have a problem.

Is this statistically significant?

Hypothesis testing (p-value approach):

H0: p = 19/67500 (the null hypothesis - he has no mending books because of chance)

H1: p < 19/67500 (the alternate hypothesis - he has no mending books due to different odds)

5679 trials, 0 mending books

X ~ B(5679, 19/67500) (binomial distribution, 5679 tries with a probability of a mending book being 19/67500, where X is the number of mending books)

p(X=0) (what is the probability the number of mending books being 0)

p = 0.2021473392

Now, the point at which data becomes significant is subjective. For instance, you *could* get a million heads in a row flipping a coin, it's not impossible, but at a certain point, you can begin to say "okay there's something not normal about this". For this approach, the closer the p-value is to 0, the more evidence there is against the null hypothesis . The p-value here is far above a significance level of 0.01, or 0.05, or 0.1. There isn't a clear line between significant/non-significant, but this is answer is quite a bit far from 0

With this, I cannot reject the null hypothesis.

Personal conclusion: this is not statistically significant, Grian is just unlucky.

Are other values statistically significant?

Gem's proposed 9000: results in a p-value of 0.079... more significant than Grian's number but I don't imagine Mojang would be too concerned. As said though, it's all subjective.

I am bad at maths, what does all this mean?

Here is a graph, showing what number of mending books you might have after 5679 tries. The height of the bar represents the probability of getting that amount. The numbers at the top are the (rounded) numbers I used in my calculation

The pink column is 0 mending books - like what Grian has! As you can see, it is less likely than getting 1 or 2 books, but not too uncommon to happen.

End conclusion: Grian has bad luck. Like, not as hilariously bad as he thinks, but still bad. If he keeps going, chances are he will get a mending book, but I think he should probably stop fishing because at this point he has a problem.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Someone New 8

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include angst, pining, romcom tropes, and some darker elements later in the series. Some triggers may not be specifically tagged. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This fic will contain explicit content. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You've had a crush on your best friend for years, but you're slapped in the face with reality when he takes things to the next level with his girlfriend.

Characters: Steve Rogers, Thor

Note: nice to see ya again!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Thor makes himself as permanent as the layers of sediment. Whether you’re in the dirt or looking over the charts and maps, making notes or sorting through your findings, he appears. Knowing he’ll be there keeps you coming yourself. Despite the short nights and long drives, thinking of him finding an empty site deters you from a day off, even against Sam’s pleas. 

The night before was filled with similar chiding from your friend. Sam is as persistent as ever. He always has a new account of his antics with Bucky and never forgets to tell you to take a break. You can’t stop though. You know if you do, you’ll have to think about everything you’re denying. 

The time away has given you time to breathe but it’s suffocated you in new ways. Along with that weight on your chest that has a name, there’s another you can’t quite understand. The one that sees you spending your spare hours alone and your working hours longing for anything but. You’re desperate to get out but terrified of the very same. 

When he arrives that day, you’re ready to give up. The tension in the air is giving you a headache and the dampness makes your skin feel sticky. You just feel gross. 

“Ah, I didn’t think you’d brave the weather today,” he muses as Thunder hops around his feet. You don’t look up, in a mood as grim as the sky. “You’d do well to stay in tomorrow. Trust me.” 

He’s always right about the weather. It must be the familiarity and yet it’s almost eerie how accurate he is. You might take his advice. You don’t like being wet and you’re starting to go cross-eyed from the hours and hours of concentration. 

Thunder yipes as you use your gloves to brush away clumps of dirt. Thor’s footsteps mulch patches of grass that sparsely carpet the dirt. He hums as his shadows looms in your peripheral. 

“Yes, my darling, I believe you’ve found the perfect spot,” he praises. 

You look over curiously. What is he talking about? You only notice then that he has more than the tiny dog with him. He has a basket on his elbow and a blanket under his arm. You sit up and watch him place down the former and shake out the latter.  

He spreads the blanket over the dirt and Thunder jumps onto it, rolling around on the fabric, digging her nose into the patched quilt as she wiggles across it. You clap off your hands and watch him as he gets down to his knees and flips open one side of the basket. He lays out several containers and two thermos’; one is the very same he brought you tea in.  

“I thought you could use a nice lunch before the weather turns,” he stands and nears the fence, “summer doesn’t last long here. You may as well enjoy it.” 

“Lunch?” You utter. 

“Brunch?” He suggest coyly. “Surely you can take a break. You are only human, you need to eat.” 

“You...” you lean to see around him, “you brought me lunch?” 

“I know it isn’t the most elaborate picnic but I thought it might be a pleasant surprise. I must confess I’ve been rather bored these days,” he admits, “so?” 

“Thor, that’s so... sweet,” you frown, “but...” 

“Work, work, work. Surely they can’t expect you to work yourself to the bone, pardon the pun,” he insists, “it will only be a bit.” 

“Yes, but...” you leave the sentence to hang. You don’t have a good excuse. You don’t know. It just makes you nervous. It’s a whole lot of effort for just you.  

“Oh, I don’t mind if you would rather stay over there. Only mean more for, eh, Thunder?” He asks the canine tramping around the blanket. “More than happy to sit here and enjoy my jelly cookies and hot coffee. 

“Coffee?” Your brows raise. 

“Freshly brewed. Promise, There’s nothing pickled. Though I don’t mind a nice herring,” he grins. 

Thunder bounces over and barks at you. She stands on her hind legs as she paws at the barrier between you. Now, how can you deny her? 

You stand and shed your gloves. You carry them over to the table beneath the tent and grab a wet wipe from the back. You come back under the open sky as you wipe your hands. 

“Sorry about all the dirt,” you scoff as you cross the dirt. 

“I don’t mind,” he assures you. He pulls apart the panels of the fence to let you through. It isn’t something you could ever forget but you can’t help but be stricken again by his sheer size. 

You bend to pet Thunder as she gets between your feet. She licks your fingers and you giggle. She’s cute. 

“Go on, pick her up,” Thor goads, “she loves it.” 

You scoop up the dog and stand. She squirms as she wags her tail incessantly. She swipes your chin with her tongue and you scrunch up your face. You carry her to the blanket and look over the spread. A leafy salad, pasta salad, sandwiches, cookies... There’s so much. Your protein bars and peanut butter and jelly can’t compare. 

“Oh gosh, this... a lot.” 

“Is it? Isn’t too much. We’re friends, yes?” 

“Friends?” You face him as you pet Thunder’s soft head. 

“Perhaps it is rather one-sided. You are obligated to be here, I just sort of haunt this place,” he chuckles. 

“No, no, friends,” you smile, “that sounds about right.” 

You turn away and lower yourself onto the blanket, sure to keep your boots off of it, as you hide your face. There’s a tinge of disappointment. You hear a far off echo in your head. How many times did Steve say the same; we’re friends, just friends, you’re such a good friend. Well, that’s all this is. No need to be so sensitive. 

“Do you ever take time off?” He asks as he gets to his knees. 

You look at him as you put Thunder down. He barely keeps her from chomping down on a rye crust. He lifts her easily and she kicks her legs. 

“Eh, you beast,” he points a finger at her snout, “be good.” 

He sets her back on her paws and she obeys. He tells her to sit and she does so. Her eyes continue to hungrily rove over the food. How can he resist them? 

“Like you said, the weather won’t last. Should get done what I can before the ground gets cold.” 

“Ah, yes, that is a concern,” he tuts, “how would you deal with that?” 

“Heat lamps, tiger torch... jackhammer if I really need but I’d have to put in a request for that...” you hadn’t thought too much into the inevitability of winter.  

“Ah, that’s...” he smirks, “I’m sorry but the idea of you with a jackhammer,” he snorts. 

“Hey,” you pout. 

“It isn’t to be mean but... you’re so gentle. When you dig, you’re so delicate about it.” 

“Am I?” You wonder. 

“Mm, is it a bit weird to say so?” He wonders aloud. “Yes, you are very precise, very cautious.” He takes out a set of plates and offers you one, “please, help yourself.” 

“It must be boring watching. Really, I’m the one digging and it gets dull,” you accept and pluck out one of the sandwiches. Salmon, you think. 

“You make it interesting,” he muses. “You talk to the bones.” 

“I talk to the bones?” You repeat, “what?” 

“Yes, I suppose you’re not aware of it. But your lips move when you’re focused. As if you’re chatting up the dirt,” he chuckles, “sometimes a few words do slip out.” 

“They do?” You blanch before you can help yourself to the salad. 

“You don’t say much. Usually something about the dishes, I’m not too sure.” 

“You never mentioned,” you look away shyly. 

“It’s... cute,” he shrugs. 

“You mean crazy,” you shake your head. 

“I say what I mean,” he counters. “No use in not. We can’t be happy if we’re not honest, not least of all with ourselves.” 

You’re quiet as you turn your attention to your plate. His words feel sharp despite his placid tone. You know it’s only because they’re true, especially for you. If you’d just accepted everything sooner, if you hadn’t been so dumb, if you hadn’t been so emotional, it would never have gotten so bad. No, if you’d just been honest. 

“I hope... I hope that didn’t come off wrong,” he says. 

“No, no, I’m... this all looks so good and I’m starving,” you assure him as you sit back with your plate. “Thank you again. This is... great.” 

“Well, I was thinking, you must miss your friends. I might be a paltry substitute but I thought i might fill that gap, even just for an hour.” 

“It’s really...” your eyes tingle but you push away the tinge of sadness, “it’s really nice.” 

“So tell me,” he scoops up salad onto his plate, “tell me about home.” 

“I...” you begin, surprised by the prompt. “It’s just home. New York. It’s busy and loud. Not like here.” 

“No, not that. Your friends. I want to know all about them. If I’m ever going to come up standards, I’ve got to know the competition.” 

You laugh. He speaks as if he needs to impress you. It’s nice to be somewhere where no one knows you’re not that special. You take a bite of the sandwich and chew, thinking out your question.  

You swallow, “well, my friend Sam, he calls every night to bitch at me. He’s great. Supportive but pushy. He likes to terrorise Bucky. He’s the strong and silent type, you know? Grumpy to boot but they’re... they’re awesome.” You smile without thinking, “before I left, they took me to this cocktail bar...” you blow out between your lips and roll your eyes, “real girly stuff.” 

“Ooh, cocktails. I’ve been known to indulge. I love finding new recipes.” 

“Really?” 

“Oh, yes, I love the sweet ones. I’ve only just perfected my blueberry basil concoction. I’m afraid I can’t share the secret ingredient unfortunately.” 

“Blueberry?” You ponder the flavour, “sounds yummy.” 

“Perhaps one day you can try it,” he suggest. 

“Maybe,” you say evasively. “Anyway, yeah, Sam and Bucky are... characters.” 

“They sound like it. How’d you meet?” 

“Oh, it’s boring. What about you?” 

“It’s not my turn,” he deflects, “tell me.” 

You don’t know why he cares. It’s as confounding as everything else about him. You still don’t get why he’s here watching you sit in the dirt. It sounds as grueling as watching a golfing tournament, in your opinion. Yet here he is, a man who looks like that, staring at you in your mud-stained khakis. 

“College. We met through a mutual friend,” you explain vaguely. 

“Ah, so you’ve been friends for some time. Yes, I see, I’ve got a lot of catching up to do,” he hums thoughtfully as he toys with the braid that hangs loose by his face, the rest of his hair twisted back as always. 

“Steve,” you say without thinking, your eyes drifting off into the distance, “he was my best friend. We met in art history. We spent almost every day together. Studying, whatever. He was more of a partier than me but... fifteen years, more than, and we saw each other...” You choke on your words and scoff darkly, “sorry, that’s... I’m homesick, I think.” 

You bat away the glaze in your eyes and focus on your food. You take a few bites as he sits quietly. Thunder stands up cautiously and crosses the blanket. She settles against your leg, leaning her head on your thigh. It’s comforting. 

“Yes, I think I would be very homesick as well. I lived in the city for a while but mother and father, they need me. And I love this mountain. It’s home. There was nothing in Oslo for me. I can work from here.” 

“Work? What exactly do you do?” You ask, happy to divert from your own painful past. “Oo, are you like a farmer? Or a shepherd. There must be sheep up here or something.” 

He laughs, “there are some sheep, yes, but those are protected by the government. We’ve not much of a choice where they settle. No, I’m not so savvy as all that.” 

“Hm, you... oh, what could do you here?” You look around, “on a mountain... oh, tours? Do you give tours?” 

He laughs, “it’s not a bad idea, but no. I’m a business owner.” 

“A business. You must sell fitness or something.” 

“Must I?” He narrows his eyes, “and what else do you assume about me?” 

“Oh, it’s only you’re so...” you cringe as you eke out the word, “big?” 

“Genetics,” he affirms, “not that but close, in a matter of looking at it. You recall that tea I brought you, with the cloudberry?” 

“Uh, yeah, it was sweet. Yummy.” 

“I’m happy you enjoyed it,” he smiles proudly, “I make superblends. All Nordic ingredients. There is a demand for wellness and organic products. I found the right niche and I’ve not done too badly.” 

“Must not if you can live all the way up here,” you remark. 

“Yes, but... it’s a reason I moved back. Business is a lonely venture. Now I’ve got it all figured out, I have my managers and my business plan, I break even, I realise how much I put to the side,” he mulls his sandwich and takes a glum bite. It’s the first time you’ve seen him anything but bright and beaming, “I feel like I’ve fallen behind. Like I’m playing catch up.” 

His words sink in and storm inside of you. You crunch on the crisp lettuce and gulp. You wipe your mouth with a napkin and clear your throat. 

“I know exactly what you mean,” you say breathily. 

“Do you? You’re out here, on an adventure all you’re own, how brave,” his voice is wistful and his gray blue eyes reminds you of the clouds above. 

“Yes, I know,” you say, “better than you. Trust me.” 

You smile, a bittersweet tug in your cheeks, and he stares back at you. Your eyes cling to each other and you feel as if the world is moving around you. He smiles and a glimmer of something unfurls in your chest. You make yourself look away. 

“Well,” you push the salad around your plate, “what about you? You must have friends, aside from the girl in the dirt.” 

He hums and scrapes up a bite of the pasta salad. He takes his time chewing before he answers. You scratch Thunder’s nose as she sniffs at your plate. 

“Yes, if you ever come to sample my cocktails, you might meet a few,” he coaxes, “I think you’d get along. Hogan and Vol, and Fandy. All good company. Sif’s not around so often when my brother’s around but he’s as fleeting as the sun.” He tuts, “I would call Loki a friend as well but he does scowl at the very thought.” 

“Loki?” 

“My brother of course,” he explains with , “yes, he is quite the dour one. He might get along with that Bucky.” 

[doumadono]

Douma & period sex - headcanons

Warnings: smut Requested by: anonymous

MASTERLIST

Being with Douma means there are no limits, it means laying all the cards on the table, exposing every secret, confronting the ugly and harsh truth. In his presence, it feels like the world opens up, revealing new possibilities and unexplored territories. With Douma, there is a sense of daring and adventure, a willingness to dive deep into the unknown and embrace the rawness of life ♡

Due to his demonic nature, Douma possesses an exceptional sense of smell, enabling him to accurately detect when you're on your period

Douma has an insatiable desire to create chaos and revels in making messes. He finds pleasure in the sight of blood, whether it's on his own skin or yours. His ultimate satisfaction lies in leaving behind a trail of destruction, where stained and torn sheets serve as evidence of a job well done

In moments when your breasts feel more sensitive or tender, Douma offers gentle relief by softly kneading them for you

On a few occasions, Douma had the experience of possessing you during your period. The heightened wetness and warmth of your pussy seemed to intensify his pleasure, pushing him to the edge faster than ever before

In anticipation of your period, Douma exercises self-restraint by refraining from engaging in sex or masturbation during the preceding week. By doing so, he deliberately builds up desire and eagerly looks forward to indulging himself once your period begins

Douma finds immense pleasure in various aspects of intimacy, including the sensation of your warm walls enveloping his cock. The additional warmth during your period is particularly arousing to him, causing him to shudder with delight each time he fucks you missionary

He humorously compares himself to a tampon 😅

"You feel so fucking incredible, so damn good!" he exclaims, occasionally sinking his teeth into your shoulder, igniting a mix of pleasure and a hint of pain. You find yourself unable to contain your moans, as the sheets bunch up tightly in your hands, your thighs quivering from the powerful rhythm of his thrusts as he takes you doggy style

"Your warmth and tightness drive me insane," Douma grunts, running a hand through your hair before gripping it firmly, pulling it back as he gently bites along your neck. "You're so wet, just look at this beautiful mess," he exclaims, admiring the evidence of your desire and arousal mixed with your period blood dripping down your thighs on the sheets

"Oh, Douma! I'm going to cum!" you moan passionately, your voice echoing through the room as you bury your head into a pillow. "I can't hold on any longer! I wanna cum, baby! Please… Move, for fuck's sake!" you groan, lifting your head to glance back at the towering figure behind you

His hands grip your sides firmly, squeezing your plush flesh, causing him to suck in a sharp breath as he visibly trembles, his chest rising and falling with each movement. "If I move now, I'll reach my climax, and I don't want to do that just yet," he replies, his heated gaze fixed on you, intensifying the sensation as your walls involuntarily tighten around him. "Oh, fuck! There's an incredible amount of blood flowing from your cunt right now!" he exclaims, a hint of excitement in his voice as he withdraws his throbbing cock from your pussy

With a swift movement, he flips you over so that you once again lie on your back, ready for the next phase of your intimate encounter. Douma's tongue delves into your sensitive core, pressing firmly against your walls, while his thumb skillfully rubs circles over your clit - his sole purpose is to bring you pleasure. Douma has a remarkable knack for discovering all the spots on your body that drive you to the brink of madness

You find yourself gripping onto his silver hair again as your hips begin to buck uncontrollably. A whine escapes your lips when he eventually pulls away, leaving you feeling empty and yearning for more. Douma licks his lips and wipes his mouth, cleansing away the traces of your blood

Understanding the need to not keep you waiting, Douma swiftly substitutes his tongue with his throbbing cock, effortlessly sliding it inside you. "Oh, fuck, Y/N. You're dripping wet. My little, fucking lotus!"

Blushing at the sounds his thrusts produce, you raise your hips to meet his movements, biting your lip in a mix of pleasure and anticipation. As you do, you realize that your uterus is beginning to relax, a thought that brings a contented smile to your face

Douma spreads your legs slightly, creating a more comfortable position for smoother entry after he again withdraws. He hooks your legs around his waist, and with deliberate slowness, he pushes his cock inside you

"Fuck!" Douma's breath hitches as he releases himself inside you, panting heavily before collapsing beside you; your mixed cums dripping out of your abused pussy

Your body trembling with pleasure as you cling onto him, wrapping your legs around his waist. The pain that once lingered has now completely dissipated, leaving you in a state of blissful satisfaction

[cobragardens]

5 Good Omens Timefucks that Haunt Me

1.

Why is this here? Why is this line included? Is it just to add texture, to imply that larger world of corporate fascism of which Crowley and Aziraphale are subjects and victims and little worker bees? If so, why "They've started early" specifically? Why not "I wouldn't have expected that shrub to be the first to go" or "Aw, I liked that rock formation"?

Crawly doesn't make this comment in an offhand way: he sounds a bit taken aback and not thrilled that things have kicked off sooner than he anticipated. But it doesn't ultimately seem to make any difference to this scene, so why do we, the audience, need to know Hell started early?

2.

This one I'm not as confident will turn out to be significant, because iirc it appears in the book, which was a complete story when written, and because it serves a narrative purpose: it puts Agnes Nutter in charge of the situation, not her murderers. By backfooting Witchfinder Major Pulsifer, Agnes startles him enough she's able to walk past him without Pulsifer seizing her and discovering the extra 80 lbs of gunpowder and roofing nails in her skirts.

But. Agnes Nutter's sense of time is Nice and Accurate, and she notices the witchburning party are late and remarks on it to herself before she says anything to Pulsifer. So assuming a few minutes to position Agnes, tie her to the stake, and read the charges and conviction against her, Pulsifer and Agnes' neighbors are 12-15 minutes later than they should be. Why?

If the book answers this question, I don't recall; the show does not. And again, it seems to make no ultimate difference to this scene.

I'm not saying this was even purposely included in S1 as a timefuck. I am suggesting that as Gaiman seems to be fucking with time or timelines in this story, even if he and Pratchett didn't plan it like this when discussing the sequel, a retcon is hardly out of the question.

3.

As others have pointed out, Shostakovich's Symphony No. 5 is 45-55 minutes long. If you're listening to it on 78s instead of LPs because you are a CRAZY PERSON, it's going to take you more like 1 hour 5 minutes, because one side of a 78 holds, at most, 5 minutes of music, so every 5 minutes you have to get up and flip or switch the record.

Shostakovich wrote his 5th symphony in response to criticism in the state newspaper (possibly penned by Stalin himself) that his previous work didn't suck the Communist Party's dick hard enough--the kind of criticism that put him in danger of being sent to prison or killed. At the time it was first performed in 1937, Symphony No. 5 was considered a massive triumph, walking the line perfectly between Shostakovich's artistic standards and the Communist Party's demands of him.

The choice is symbolically significant, but it's a symphony, so whoever's censoring it isn't censoring lyrics or information. Again, why? Why is a 45-55-minute symphony only 21 minutes long? What did the time thief do with the 24-34 minutes?

4.

Here's the rug that covers the portal to Heaven in Episode 1:

Here's the rug in Ep. 2:

Aziraphale does not change this rug for the party. We know this bc we see it in Episode 5 when Mrs Sandwich enters the bookshop and the party is in full swing:

Now here's Aziraphale moving the circular rug to expose the portal to Heaven:

But here's Crowley, putting the rug back:

Why are there two different rugs?

5.

Every end credits track has the first line of "Everyday" embedded in it But after the line from "Everyday," at the end of Episode 4, the theme skips twice like a vinyl record, and then is stopped by whoever controls the turntable and restarted, with several seconds of music having been skipped over.

This is not the first time it has mattered to a character in Good Omens what we in the audience see and hear. I argue here that God asks Aziraphale what he did with the flaming sword She gave him in order to show us the audience who Aziraphale is. God also addresses us the audience directly in S1, not only narrating about characters omnisciently but speaking to us about Herself in first person.

Now we evidently have a second character who has gone meta and is changing what we the audience experience of this story, and--indications are good--the story itself.

[raviosrupees]

My parent rates LU Link's based on first impressions

[warning foul language, mention of alcohol, and my parents very negative impression of Wars !!! note this is my parents impression based off of the LU concept sketches + descriptions. a lot of em aren't accurate]

TIME

Very God of War, Kratos. PTSD Link.

when all the others are hanging out he's in the cups. He fought the moon? Sounds about right. Everyone else is talking and goofing off and he's got the thousand yard stare.

No one talks about how he cant get a full nights sleep. Please let him nap. Maybe let the owl take a nap too.

*stares at him for a very long time, before taking a sip of mimosa*

TWILIGHT

blond hiccup [httyd] very viking. Humble? Hiccup. Animal whisperer? Does he have a dragon? he turns in to a wolf? good for hiccup. getting over a complicated relationship? ...... h-

OH HE HAS GOATS? I love goats! Love this guy.

WARRIORS

Ah, douchy paladin! Yeah he's got the hip flex, he knows he's the shit. Very prideful? Of course you are. Leader type? Women problems? Not surprised. [said they most wanted to punch this one]

"This one writes himself. On Reddit forums"

FOUR [their 3rd fav]

"eeny meeny hippy genie" They've got the weird flowy scarf hat, they're super tiny! Dwarf.. chaos gremlin-- No that's a changeling! I don't think that's actually a Link, I think they faked their way in. Not that I blame them, its a pretty cool crew to be a part of. Spy for the fae realm.

WILD

5th grade school photo link. He's really excited for his first day of school and has a planner for all of his classes.

Good at navigation? Kudos for being a good boy scout.

Her 2nd favorite.

WILD

"Legolas Link" he likes to run on snow, flip his hair back + forth and shit talk dwarves [changeling doesn't like that]

"takes any questioning of his princess too personally? Why are they questioning his princess in the first place? *squints* Why is he so upset? Feel like maybe we need some codependency therapy-

IDENTITY CRISIS DUE TO MEMORY LOSS???? oh no, there we go, the therapy- INSECURE? THE ONLY ONE THAT FAILED? Dude, I think douchy paladin needs to take him to therapy-, maybe it'll convince him to get some too.

Proceeds to go into a rant about his sheikah tech being called weird magic: "Why are they calling his magic weird? That's rude ! They need to have more open minds, no wonder he's insecure! He just needs to feel confident and supported in his new environment and they're not being very supportive right now!"

*orders another mimosa*

LEGEND [their favorite]

"We've got stoner wizard link..." "Which one?" "He's wearing red, and like a fancy staff with a ball at the end for walloping on people who say he's not a real wizard" He just smacks em and says duh yes I am, but usually he doesn't bother with it bc he's too chill.

He's the Millenial of the linked universe. "Chooses not to be a leader type? 'Nope, Im good, just here for a paycheck not a promotion. Some PTO would be nice. Another adventure? He'd rather start a commune"

"Seems unaffected by his adventures?" Uhh he is though. He's just delusional about it now.

HYRULE

Classic link [true] silent generation, nobody acknowledges him. "just happy to be included," mistaken as a hobbit.

"He's actually a traveler, never stays in one place" "Ah so post adventure Bilbo baggins, who wants to see mountains again."

*starts singing "the road goes ever on and on"*

SKY

Foppy link. Fabulous haircut, cape swooped over one shoulder with the gorgeous coloring, contrasting belt-- he knows color schemes way too well, he could be in project runway.

"Not the leader type? Sure he's too busy worrying about fabric swatches. Views the master sword as a blessing? Yeah, I bet he does."

Very confidently decided his Zelda is a beard.

[bitdemonic]

date. april 8th, 2023

time. 8:59pm

—❝𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐃.❞

𝐬𝐲𝐩𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬. FUTURESPOUSEPAC . . . a message from them.

𝐚𝐢𝐝. if the images above are too hard to differentiate between your intuition, use ‘pile 1, 2, 3, or 4’ for the choice selection instead. this reading has four piles. pic not included.

𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫. 18+ content—no minors. please remember, this post is just for shits and giggles. use the best of your discernment, pinch that grain of salt. and although i write under the impression that majority of this content’s viewers are women, i do read for feminine and masculine energies. if needed to, please flip the roles as reversed for an accurate message. hope this reading is useful, but not for plagiarism bitch. enjoy.❦

𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞

🃏 movement retrograde. sweetness retrograde. faith. rest.

𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞

✞—. “i want it whenever i can get it. idc who’s around, i don’t give two shits about who’s looking. you’re the only person i ever want to have and knowing that i can have it? whenever we want? broad day, pitch black at night, at a park, at a concert, in the car it doesn’t matter and it never will. im going to shove my dick so far into you it’s going to come out of your mouth, that’s how carnal i am for you. my soul burns for you, im running off of petroleum gas at this very moment. you’re a diamond in the fucking rough. i mean, the faces you make when you cum are just . . . im so pleased, so blessed to have you as mine. to call you my lover, my one and only—not many have the pleasure of doing so, but i do.”

✞—. “i’d run ass naked up and down the street just to proclaim my feelings for you. you’re divine, you’re special, you make my crotch tight and my cheeks warm. i’d fuck you for hours upon hours, just to hear your moans. the same moans that remind me of the melody to a favorite song, the one i’ll keep on repeat because i never want them to end. keep your eyes open during sex, i want you to watch me have my way with you. to see the things i do to your body, the same things that make your insides twitch. moving back and forth, up and down, all around and through nirvana just to end it all in rehab. you’ll never want me to go, and i never will. i’ll even stay inside for a few minutes after, because i don’t want to leave us either.”

✞—. “i love you, but above that i lust eternally for you. love is nothing for us, but only because it was always a given—i’ll never stop loving you. it’s just during sex, the way i want to give all of my strength and trust into it, that’s something vulnerable for me. something different and new. but i’m willing to share that, without complaint too, because you’re mine. one person made special just for me, it’s natural that i show my appreciation. i want you to feel the way i feel for you, but through my actions more than my words. understand our connection with each act of pleasure i bring upon you, so on and so forth.”

✞—. “i’m always available to make love, to fuck—to tangle the sheets and wring out the perspiration from our bodies. making you cum constantly—endlessly, without losing stamina and without the thought of it having to end. scream for me, cry for me, moan for me—most of all, cum for me. do all those things and more doll, and promise to never stop.”

end.❤️‍🔥

previous reading

𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐨

🃏 passion retrograde. creativity. abundance. confidence.

𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞

✞—. “give me that pussy. that sweet, tight, warm cunt. i want it all over me—my face, my thigh, hell even my stomach, i don’t mind my love. i’ll be gentle, whether that’s taking it nice and slow or hard and fast—whatever pace you need. don’t ever be afraid to tell me what you desire, or better yet, take control of me because it’s yours. my cock has your name printed on it in red ink, signed by yours truly.”

✞—. “the sight when you’re naked, the swell of your breasts down to the curve of your thighs, it makes my heart clench. even the tips of your feet get me going. never stop riding me, lock your legs around my waist and bounce on me all damn day. cum in my mouth, cum on my clothes, cum on my fucking face—i’ll eat it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. you’re gorgeous, but even more so outside of the sex. i don’t care what people say, i don’t give a damn about what they think either. it’s you that i want and i want you right here, right fucking now.”

✞—. “strip for me, baby. pull off your shirt as i watch with my thick cock in hand. unclasp your bra, slide the straps from your shoulders, let it tumble to the floor. i’ll gasp at the gentle bounce of your breast, in awe at their beauty, before attacking them with my mouth. you’re my inspiration, the blueprint of the world’s desires. made for us—we all want a part of your essence to bring home for bragging rights. want to see your body shine under the spotlight, showcasing as aphrodite’s favorite, nothing but glitter and gold. on display as heaven’s angel. stand just like that so you’ll never fall.”

✞—. “show the others what they’ll never touch, the parts of you that they’ll only be able to dream of. the same parts that i’ve been trusted enough to feel, to love and appreciate. yes . . . like that baby, don’t stop. show me how much of a blessing it is to have the emulation of a goddess at arms length. how much of an honor it is, keeping the place that’d be gone and up for grabs if you decided to cut me loose. i won’t fuck this up, at least not again. i know what i have, and i’ll always need it in order to survive. you.”

end.❤️‍🔥

previous reading

𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

🃏 happiness. intuition. magic retrograde. illumination retrograde.

[tw — somnophilia] this is a channeled scenario from your person but if this theme isn’t comfortable for reading i suggest choosing another pile!

𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞

✞—. “i watch you sleep, you know. it’s hard not to, hearing the soft breaths escape your lips as the shadow of peace drapes upon your face. bathed in the comfort of being home, you’re content at last. sleeping, embracing the idea that nothing could interrupt the state of winding down. nothing at all—except me. fingers tracing along the hem of your underwear, dancing across the design pattern, before pulling the band of them and letting it pop against your skin. it’s kinda funny—more adorable if anything, the flutter of your lashes at the slight sting below your abdomen.”

✞—. “i do this all the time, or at least when it’s essential. when we’re both aware of how much you need it, i’ll tease away the sleepiness until it’s desolate and gone. you’d never guess it was real, the heat from an open mouth as it warms the center of your panties. that same mouth, dampening the fabric before placing sloppy kisses along the seams. you’ll whimper, tossing and rubbing as you’re mindlessly wondering what the hell kind of dream is this? why does it feel extra real, and why are your hands thrashing to grip at the pillows?”

✞—. “mmm, mmhm,” will fall from the lush of your lips, disrupting the quiet of the night with natural reaction. you’re spurring me on, you little minx. encouraging me to keep going, urging me to fuck with your innocence some more. to turn vulnerability into utter rapture. and i will baby, of course i will. you’ll be conscious at this point, blinking more than twice for obvious reasons, seconds before your face turns into disbelief and tempted half lids. feels good, doesn’t it? i know it does, you don’t even need to utter a word—that moan’ll suffice.”

✞—. “teasing becomes eating, eating until we’re impatient for the rest, until you’re frustrated from not being stuffed full with the other parts. oh yeah, baby—you’re definitely awake now. up and at ‘em, waiting for me to finish what’s began, waiting for me to send your precious body to sleep once more.”

end.❤️‍🔥

previous reading

𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫

🃏 caution retrograde. trust. isolation retrograde. mystery.

𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞

✞—. “our kisses, the taste itself, intoxicate the sobriety of my mind. your mouth, placing the sweetest of sins against mine. i’m left to fend for myself, to stand on trembling legs, stumbling around the reality that is us—proceeding with caution. those lips, diluted in gloss or whatever else that has them shining brighter than a star. drenched in angel dust, sprinkled from the fingers of God himself, urging me to come and get blessed. and blessed i be, for i never want these moments to end.”

✞—. “i can’t stop thinking about those sounds, those kitten mewls that send my brain cells into overdrive. can’t forget the trail of poised hands rubbing and wrapping around my neck to pull me closer. you’re incredible. the sweetest thing since candied apples, just as you’re hell on earth. damn you, damn this feeling. damn the air thickening around us, damn the temperature rising in time with our heartbeats. i feel my chest concave when you go, the same way i feel it inflate when you walk into the room. engulf me with your presence, take me and never let me go—don’t let the others take me from you.”

✞—. “i want to be attached to your hips just as my hands are, how they know where home is when they grab at your waist and pull you in. pushing you against my abdomen to give your own hands some room, to let them run over the hem of my zipper before pulling away. i’d offer to finish the job for you, to fling my shirt and pants to the floor, but that’d ruin the fun wouldn’t it? the fun behind the tease, the persona of being daddy’s girl—spoiled and bratty, naughty not nice.”

✞—. “hard as hell to tame, but that’s the excitement itself. eyes going slender and sultry, bottom lip being bitten, hair tossed to glance over one shoulder—i feel ill, hot flashes and stomach turns, because you’re my kryptonite. tbh, you take all my breath away and funnily enough, i don’t want it back. it’s an eye for an eye, swapping out my oxygen for your full devotion. as long as i’m with you, i’ll never need to breathe again. to have and to hold forever.”

end.❤️‍🔥

previous reading

[melefim]

Swearing in Dead Boy Detectives: Episode 1- The Case of Crystal Palace

Episode Overview:

29 total, 12 different words said by 9 characters.

Edwin: 1 Fuck, 1 Damn, 1 Bloody Hell

Charles: 1 Fuck, 1 Shit, 1 Bastard, 1 Piss

Crystal: 2 Fuck, 2 Shit, 1 Ass, 4 God, 3 Jesus, 2 Screw

Jenny: 1 Shit, 1 Jesus

David: 2 Fuck

Esther: 1 Jesus

Tabby: 1 Fuck

Emma: 1 Twat

Simon: 1 Prat

Curses Per Character:

Edwin: 3

Charles: 4

Crystal: 14

Jenny: 2

David: 2

Esther: 1

Tabby Cat: 1

Emma: 1

Simon: 1

Uses Per Word:

Fuck: 7

Shit: 4

Ass: 1

Damn: 1

Bloody Hell: 1

God: 4

Jesus: 5

Twat: 1

Bastard: 1

Prat: 1

Piss: 1

Screw: 2

Lines:

Edwin: Bloody Hell! (when running from the gas mask ghost on the street)

Charles: Edwin, hurry the fuck up!

Emma: Fine you twats. How much?

David: I'll fucking gut you! (x2 while possessing Crystal)

Crystal: Oh my god, why can’t I remember?

Crystal: It's just a stupid fucking name.

Edwin: I'll jot that down in my journal of opinions I do not give a damn about.

Crystal: Jesus, where did he go?

Charles: Piss off, cat.

Tabby Cat: Fuck you. I'm not telling you nothing about that house or the witch inside

Crystal: Oh, Jesus. I'm gonna wait in the bathroom until they leave.

Crystal: Holy shit, did you take some of my memories? I don’t have some screwed-up amnesia, you took them.

Crystal: God! I just need a second, okay?

Crystal: So maybe he's our fucking demon now!

Simon: Give this little prat a proper scare.

Crystal: God, I just want to take their heads and just crush them together, I am so mad!

Jenny: Maybe you catch someone on a good day and they care about you for like a minute, and then they go right back to caring about all their own bullshit.

Crystal: Jesus, I am such an idiot.

Crystal: Oh my god, I never even thought about the fact that they could still be alive.

Edwin: Police don't know what to do with a fucking witch!

Charles: The little bastards are pretty clever, and their scratches sting like fire.

Jenny: Jesus! I thought you were like a meat robber!

Crystal: Which was totally my bad and very screwed up and I should have told you everything.

Crystal: Holy shit. (Edwin tells her about girl turned into small piece of plastic)

Charles: Look Edwin, you're the smart one, and I'm the one who does shit like this.

Esther: Monty! Jesus! I'm trying to threaten some kids!

Crystal: He's still a stalker, still an asshole. But I am going to get my memories back.

Notes:

Both of David’s “I’ll fucking gut you”s are said while possessing Crystal during the subway fight. These were counted under David’s total, and not Crystal’s.

Not Included:

Crystal flips off Edwin in the malt shop

Not a curse, but…

A “Mary Ann” was slang for “an effeminate male homosexual; a young boy used as a catamite in prison.”

Edwin is called this 8 times during his sacrifice: three times by Simon, and then it is chanted an additional five times by all the boys.

Is this a curse? I dunno, I’m not British:

Charles: “Piss off, cat”

Simon: “Give this little prat a proper scare”

UPDATED:

-Updated to include the two British curses above (thanks @cheriebryantsart!) , ‘screw’, and an ‘oh my god’ from Crystal I missed- all charts and text should now be updated and accurate!

- Replaced ‘Uses Per Word’ chart with a version with better labels.

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

More Dead Boy Detectives Swearing Posts:

Masterlist

Swearing by episode

Swearing by character

Swearing by word

All Swearing posts

And if you like lists of things like I do, you can check out my other Dead Boy Detective ones here!

When Charles’ Shirt Colors Change

George Rextrew’s Edwin comic inspo board

Full soundtrack with timestamps

Moves, Incidents, and Cases Masterlist

First pass at finding where the songs in the score are used- full post with timestamps in progress.

[insipid-drivel]

Toxins, Venom, and Poisons in Historical Western Medicine: How Are We Not Extinct From Doing Some Of This To Ourselves?

This piece is an involuntary piece inspired by @writing-with-sophia's awesome post "Poison list", which is an accurate and succinct list of commonly known (and ancient!) poisons, venoms, and toxins that have been and were used for causing poisoning in ancient and recent history. I wanted to write this because what struck me by their post crossing my dash was, the sheer number of poisons listed that were - and even still are - used as mainstays for healthcare around the world throughout the ages!

OBLIGATORY DON'T BE A DUMBASS PSA: If you're planning on incorporating these poisons into your HISTORICAL-era writing, it's also important to remember that many of them were used for medicinal purposes at one time, too, and it's great you're interested in learning about the subject! And also, you shouldn't try ANY of these! I will not tell you how to do it at home if you DM me, so don't! You are not appropriately trained to do it! You will harm or kill yourself and possibly your loved ones if you fuck around with any of these and it will be 100% your fault and you absolutely should feel bad bout it! I've seen some of you idiots believe 4chan posts about making home-grown crystals using recipes for actual mustard gas and seen you being wheeled into the ER on the news! I will not feel bad if you get yourself hurt if you screw around with any of these plants, elements, or animals!

Resource blog plugs and PSA over, now for the Hilariously Poisonous Medicines:

If you're writing something that's meant to take place prior to the advent of our more modern understanding of poisons, venoms, and toxins, factoring in "this is toxic to me NOW, but what about 500 years ago?" can add a lot of opportunities for interesting plot elements to your story.

These can include someone accidentally poisoning themselves with a toxic drug or substance that wouldn't have killed them if they'd handled it properly - like tansy? Grows all over the place in Europe and England? That'll kill you if you harvest it too late in the season, but it's good for intestinal parasites when it's harvested early in the year and processed right.

Did the lady's maid really kill her mistress with belladonna? Or was she trying to secretly help her mistress get rid of an unwanted pregnancy?

The protagonist's children can't survive to make it to weaning age! Is the wetnurse a poisoner, or does the milkman hide that he sells sour milk by pouring Borax into it so no one could taste it and has no idea he's killing his clients' babies?

Nuance and cultural mores regarding historical views about poisons and toxins can make writing even more fun, dynamic, and interesting! Explore 'em!

Just... please don't try any of this crap yourself. You will poison yourself, it will hurt, you will die, and you will hurt the entire time you're dying. Using OP's master list alone, here's the flip side of these lethal beasts through the eyes of our distant ancestors who believed illness was caused by "vapors", "bad air", and "imbalanced humors":

Hemlock:

Used across multiple different cultures in history. When properly administered to treat a disease, poison hemlock was used to treat asthma, whooping cough, bronchitis, joint/bone pain, muscle cramps, and insomnia. Hemlock was most often used as a sedative and antispasmodic.

Arsenic:

Arsenic is a heavy metal, and so has been used in everything from making specialty dyes for wallpapers (Scheele's green is the most infamous arsenic-based paint; Queen Victoria once had a guestroom in her palace redone with Scheele's green wallpaper. The first dignitary to stay there had to be carried out and taken to emergency care after breathing astronomical amounts of arsenic dust from the wallpaper's paint), to medicine. Arsenic was especially commonly used in history to treat skin ailments ranging from acne, to psoriasis, to syphilis sores. It was also sometimes prescribed for menstrual cramps, upset stomachs, colic, and arthritis, among many, many other things.

Cyanide:

Uh... I have literally never found any evidence of cyanide in medicine, outside of its use in modern medicine as part of certain chemical lab tests for measuring urine ketone bodies that involve no contact with a patient whatsoever. Cyanide literally works in less than a few seconds to render your entire body incapable of absorbing OR using oxygen in your lungs or already existing in your blood. Cyanide is really only good at making things that breathe not breathe anymore.

Nightshade:

There are a lot of different "nightshades", so being specific is essential here. Potatoes are nightshades. Tomatoes are nightshades. Calling anything a "nightshade" does not inherently mean it's lethally toxic. Belladonna is probably the most notorious of the "deadly" nightshades, but to this day, is still used medicinally, and would actually be seen as a health and cosmetic mainstay in historical fiction, especially if your setting is in Italy!

Belladonna is an Italian portmanteau for "beautiful woman", because tinctures (water-based drops) of belladonna were commonly used by Italian women as eyedrops to dilate their eyes and appear more attractive, aroused, and desirable. Today, belladonna's eye-dilating effects are still used by optometrists to dilate the pupils! Belladonna has been, and still sometimes is used as an NSAID, general painkiller, motion sickness treatment, asthma medication, and even as a treatment for IBS.

Ricin:

As OP said, Ricin is derived from the toxin found in Castor Beans, and is surprisingly new as an official "the only reason this is made is to make someone dead" poison. Not only is ricin a popular "nobody would think to test for this!" choice in mystery/thriller writing, but it has been used for political assassinations in real life before. Georgi Markov, a Bulgarian anti-Communist dissenter and writer, was killed in 1978 with a 1.7mm diameter ricin-coated pellet shot into his thigh muscle by an unidentified assailant using a modified umbrella as a gun. He died 4 days later.

Historically, castor OIL has been used for medicinal purposes, especially for treating constipation, inducing labor in pregnancy, and as a topical skin moisturizer. If you've ever watched the opening scene in Disney's "Peter Pan", when the childrens' mother is trying to give them a spoonful of medicine each, she's actually giving them castor oil! Castor oil tastes really bad (so much so that flavorings like cinnamon were often added to try to muffle the taste), so the childrens' reluctance and disgust at their mom making them take their medicine is very realistic for the era the movie came out in!

Strychnine:

Another lethal poison that started life as a medicine/food additive. Strychnine is no longer used medicinally at all today, but historically, it was used to stimulate the heart, treat bladder and bowel incontinence, and limb palsy. Strychnine is a deadly-powerful muscle stimulant that, as a poison, causes horrifyingly painful full-body strictures (spasms) and destroys the cardiovascular system. (Fun fact: Strychnine and hydrochloric acid were historically mixed into cheap vodka to make knock-off gin, especially during the Georgian Era in England if the brewer didn't have or couldn't afford juniper berries!)

Snake Venom:

Seriously, do your research before you write an actual, real snake species using venom they don't produce! The Big 3 Forms Of Snake Venom are: Hemotoxic, Neurotoxic, and Cytotoxic. Specific snake species exclusively generate the same kind of venom (so a hemotoxic snake will ALWAYS produce baby snakes that also make hemotoxic venom). Aristotle himself wrote in 380 BC that certain snake venoms could be applied for treating fevers, smallpox, and leprosy, and there is even some evidence in the historical record prior to the 1800s that different cultures have experimented throughout the eons with using venom for converting into antivenom, but I've never found a source citing anyone making a successful form of antivenom until around the 1850s.

Digitalis:

OP really nailed the important thing about Digitalis, and that is it's cardiac benefits for certain people - particularly for treating congestive heart failure. Vincent van Gogh was actually prescribed epilepsy medication that likely contained Digitalis, aka Foxglove, and there are some prevailing theories about van Gogh's love of bright yellow paint as being either caused or exacerbated by the symptoms associated with digitalis use, which can cause an attraction to and increased visual sensitivity to the color yellow. In several portraits, including one of his own psychiatrist, van Gogh shows subjects presented alongside foxglove flowers. Digitalis is absolutely lethal if consumed or taken without expert guidance, however, because it's the mother ingredient of Digoxin. Digoxin isn't used as frequently as it used to be a few decades ago, but it's still used and prescribed today for certain forms of heart failure and heart disease. Digoxin was also, at one time, was also sometimes used to induce chemical abortions.

Lead:

Dear god, lead. Not only is it so slow to kill you that you'll think that the only way to manage your symptoms is with more lead, but lead poisoning can be a life-long crisis for a person who is regularly exposed to it. Humans have used lead for everything from plumbing, to paint, to our cutlery, to cosmetics, to medicine. While yes, it is very possible to ingest enough lead in a single sitting to die within hours or days, most sufferers of lead poisoning experience it for years or decades before the symptoms become obvious. Some archaeologists believe that the Romans used lead cutlery because lead has a unique reaction when we lick it: when you have lead coating your tongue, it makes EVERYTHING you eat suddenly taste 10x better. I learned this myself from going target-shooting with my mom at a gun rage as a teenager, inhaled gunsmoke (which contains lead), and went for lunch immediately after. Even though I was just eating a $5 meal from In-N-Out, my burger tasted so good I thought I was gonna have to change my pants. When I asked the rangemaster at the target place about it later, he literally said, "Oh yeah, lead makes the worst cooking taste like heaven."

The ancient Romans ate a lot of rotten, spoiled, and sour food, and so lead would've made it easier to eat it back then. But the neurological effects of lead poisoning are nightmarish. It's suspected that, in America, the #1 reason we had so many active serial killers in the country from the 1940s-2000s was because of leaded gasoline. Ever since leaded gasoline was banned? Serial and random violent crime rates have dramatically gone down, especially in metropolitan cities. Ancient Rome, too, gradually became an increasingly violent city as its population went up and its reliance on lead did. We're only just now starting to figure out how toxic lead actually is, so go nuts with using it as a plot element regarding subjects like "Why Are You Like This?"

Mercury:

Mercury is also known as quicksilver, because in spite of being a heavy metal, the temperature at which it melts into a liquid is very, very low compared to most other metals. The first Emperor of China, Qin Shi Huang, was rumored to be so obsessed with the notion of immortality that he would send his doctors on doomed voyages around the world searching for a legendary substance that would, indeed, make him immortal. Legend has it that some doctors who were tasked with the job found out about the last guys, and produced mercury before Emperor Qin Shi Huang and cried, "Here it is! I got it!" so they wouldn't end up doomed to drown at sea. Qin Shi Huang became so obsessed with ingesting and medicating himself with mercury that, when his legendary tomb was being constructed, he had a small-yet-accurate-to-scale map of China+the known world about the size of a football field with every body of water full of fountains of running mercury in his burial chamber. His tomb was rediscovered in the last couple of decades after archaeologists found suspiciously high levels of mercury in the soil on top of a "hill" that had been sitting in the countryside untouched for thousands of years. It turned out to be Qin Shi Huang's long-lost tomb.

Since those days, mercury has closely been associated in early medicine as a sort of cure-all, since it literally kills anything it touches (including people). Captain Blackbeard himself, the most notorious pirate in Western history (Western specifically; google who Zheng Yi Sao was), was known or widely believed to be a syphilis sufferer, and desperately sought infusions of mercury from ships he'd capture (and the doctors onboard) to treat it, believing like everyone did that mercury could cure syphilis. It can't. They just didn't understand back then that syphilis starts off surface-level, and then eats your brain years after the initial infection.

Aconite:

Again, ridiculously toxic outside of specific medicinal applications that still aren't safe today! Aconite, or wolfsbane, has historically been used as a heart sedative (for slowing the heart), diuretic, painkiller, and even used to induce sweating. Evidence of wolfsbane being used for medicinal purposes has been spotted here and there over thousands of years throughout the Greek, Roman, and Byzantine Empires, but its original use came about in Ancient Greece for hunting and culling wolves by poisoning bait-food with it. That form of hunting died out long before the European Middle Ages, but the name "wolfsbane" stuck. Mostly because in the Middle Ages, a lot of people believed werewolves were a huge problem, and kept wolfsbane handy to deter said werewolves.

Thallium:

Today, thallium is mostly used in the production of camera and eyeglass lenses. Before its toxicity was known about, it wasn't strange to hear of thallium being used topically to treat fungal infections like ringworm. Thallium was also sporadically used in treating typhus and tuberculosis, along with a wide array of sexually transmitted diseases.

This list doesn't even touch the tip of the toxic iceberg when it comes to the sheer quantity of hilariously dangerous toxins people have, or still continue, to use for medicinal purposes! In a Victorian-era English London middle-class townhouse setting alone, there were dozens and dozens of ways to poison or otherwise harm yourself just by going about your daily life. So, if you've got a period piece you're working on, or are just bored, you can pick an exact date and time in our history and learn just how terrifyingly comfortable our ancestors were with upsettingly dangerous substances and home remedies. You can also watch a massive docuseries, called "Hidden Killers" and hosted by historian Suzannah Lipscomb, among other historians and archaeologists, which deep-dives into the hidden and unknown dangers of living in eras from Tudor-Era England, to the Post-WWII Reconstruction Age.

As a final note: I am NOT bashing Chinese or Eastern medicinal practices here, and in fact deliberately have gone out of my way to not include any references toward culturally-sanctioned medicinal practices in Eastern and Southeastern Asia. This post is specifically related to the history of WESTERN medicines and their associated history. I am not, nor have I ever been, a doctor of any traditional Eastern medicinal practices, and do not pretend to know better. Sinophobes are unwelcome in my blog space.

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Welp, it's Nikke, so of course I'm gonna request Rapi, Anis & Neon who catch their S/O staring at their ass (not in battle, just during free time)

(GoV: NIKKE) Rapi, Anis, and Neon's S/O looking at their butt

NSF-W IMPLICATIONS (Obviously, though this is more humorous than lewd)

Of course this is literally the first ask I get for Nikke. ...Well, at least you had the politeness to not do so during combat.

A/N: Okay I genuinely forgot how NIKKE throws ass in your face first thing when you're playing, especially Rapi's.

Rapi detects S/O's IFF behind her while she is near the counter, organizing some paperwork.

At first, she smiles due to their presence-

-...Before quickly realizing S/O's heat signature seemed to be rising on their cheeks.

(Rapi) "S/O. I would kindly ask for you to keep your eyes above my waist."

(S/O) "S-Sorry! I was just...Um...It looks nice, at least!"

She can't help the blush that's currently making her core overheat as well.

Rapi immediately turns around and reprimands S/O by gently flicking them on the forehead, careful that her mechanical finger didn't actually harm them.

(Rapi) "Thank you, but do not stare when there's the risk of someone walking in."

Before they could get a word in, she shook her head.

(Rapi) "A-And, that is not an invitation to stare in private either!"

The single stutter was enough to tell S/O how flustered Rapi was.

Being complimented by someone she loved was usually enough for her systems to simulate the phenomenon of "butterflies in her stomach", but in this case it was definitely different.

Thank the goddess that it was just them in the room at the moment. She did not want Anis's commentary on this situation.

Granted, her wardrobe did admittedly make it hard for S/O not to notice.

...Maybe she should change wardrobes when at the base, or at least wear something longer.

Anis was lying down on the sofa, idly flipping through her phone with S/O in the same room.

She sighed before flopping over onto her back, glancing at S/O.

(Anis) "Jeez, could you be any more obvious about where you're staring, S/O?"

(S/O) "S-SORRY! I didn't mean to!"

Her eyes widened in surprise before scoffing.

(Anis) "Wait, seriously? I was just cracking a joke, wooooow!"

If S/O was anyone else, she'd probably just punch them in the face for that.

But, since it was them, she'd allow it...Not that she's going to say that, because it's pretty funny to watch them get flustered.

Though Anis wasn't completely immune herself.

Plus she didn't want to give the green light for S/O to be ogling her all day during their free time.

Anis was somewhat flattered that S/O thought she was pretty enough that they even stared to begin with.

As long as it was only just her, anyways, she'd remain flattered.

(Anis) "Had no idea you were such a pervert...Well, actually yeah I can, considering who your usual company is."

(S/O) "The Commander?"

(Anis) "Ah yes, because I'm definitely referring to the only guy on base at the moment, present company included."

Anis replied, rolling her eyes.

(Anis) "If I hear you staring at anyone else, your ass will be in trouble."

Neon was honestly busy focusing on adjusting the scope on her rifle, hoping that it would land an explosive shot more accurately on the range.

S/O was in the room, though strangely they had not said anything for a small period of time.

Were they focusing on something too?

Neon glanced back at S/O and noticed they were staring down.

...Meeting where their eyes were staring at, it was indeed her backside.

(Neon) "H-Hey! What the heck are you doing?!"

(S/O) "AH! Sorry, m-my mind just spaced out and!-"

Neon pouted, crossing her arms while her core began to overheat.

(Neon) "That's no excuse, you can't be staring at my butt while I'm focusing here!"

She wasn't careful with her volume, which meant that someone definitely overheard that line, much to the despair of S/O.

Neon however didn't really notice, and began loudly lecturing S/O how her butt was nothing compared to the power of the firepower she was going to unleash!

And at this point, S/O was starting to sound like the perfect target!

Anis heard the conversation and began snickering, ready to use it for teasing ammo later.

Rapi heard it and began blushing, trying her best not to pay it any mind.

The Commander simply sighed and went back to his paperwork, attempting to tune out Neon still talking.

[nctstar]

the day that i met you i started dreaming.

You watched in satisfaction as the imprint of your lips stained a faded red colour, two semi-circles adorned by fine lines. The smell of strawberry wafted gently, so subtle you could have missed it. Yet, his voice rang in your ears. “You taste so sweet, baby. You always do.”

pairing: jungwoo x fem!reader

other members: johnny, mark (+his brother), haechan (only mentioned)

word count: 3k

genre: fluff, romance

warnings: lots of kissing, one small smutty scene, not very graphic (penetration and kissing only), profanity (one use of the f word, shit)

disclaimer: this is a fanfiction purely from my imagination. I don't know the nct members (including their family members!) and don't claim that they act like this in real life. I also do not condone any of the activity by any of the characters in this fic. Also, even though I was inspired by mark's real life doesn't mean this is accurate at all, please keep that in mind nobody sue me please.

a/n: this is for my bestie @neocty because I love her and there aren't enough jungwoo fics out there and she is struggling, so I did what any good friend would do <3 so everyone else please look away (and by that I mean like and reblog and send me requests)

You watched in satisfaction as the imprint of your lips stained a faded red colour, two semi-circles adorned by fine lines. The smell of strawberry wafted gently, so subtle you could have missed it. Yet, his voice rang in your ears. “You taste so sweet, baby. You always do.”

∞

You had first met Jungwoo in your first year of university. Surrounded by girls, one of them having their entire torso turned towards him like she was ready to mount at any moment. Giggles floated past you as you walked by, books slipping in your arms from the sweat on your skin. The edges dug uncomfortably into your side as you tried hoisting them from side to side, trying to find that sweet spot that wouldn’t make you want to throw all of them only the floor, give up and go home.

“Hey.” You hadn’t heard it at first, too busy untangling your arms. But it suddenly felt silent, too silent now, the giggles now gone. You looked up, and the first thing you noticed was also the first thing you said.

“We have the same headphones.” Your voice was monotone, your breath heating up your cheeks underneath your mask.

He frowned, and the second thing you noticed was-

“I like whatever you’re wearing on your l-lips.” He stammered towards the end, probably now understanding how strange that sounded. But if he was embarrassed, he didn’t let on. His face erupted in a confident, self-assured smile, one hand effortlessly running through his dusty brown hair. His face was cute, like a puppy, or a fluffy cat. Soft features, smile lines and shallow dimples on one side of his face. “I’m not hitting on you. My sister runs a small business and sells makeup. I’m trying to get girls to buy her stuff. She’s saving up for a car because she hates public transport. I, personally, don’t mind it. Anyway. Um, you want a flyer?” Paper shuffled in his hands as you realised that he was handing out flyers, not what you had originally thought when you saw all those girls around him.

You fought the urge to say aww as you took a flyer tentatively. You didn’t wear makeup other than yes, your lipgloss, the same one you had brought from your home country since you didn’t really have time to shop in Korea in the few days you had been here already. Your eyes started scanning up and down the flyer while your mind pondered, who still uses flyers to advertise nowadays?

You shuffled from foot to foot, aware that he was still standing in front of you for some reason. “Your sister seems really talented.”

“She is. She also, looks a lot like me.” Jungwoo proceeded to shove the remaining flyers under his armpit, other hand flipping out his phone. In your peripheral vision, you watched one girl side eye you, hard, very possibly the one who had wanted to mount him a minute ago. “Oh, that’s okay, um- oh wow!” Your eyes widened. “You guys look so alike!”

“Right?” Strangers standing musing for more than a minute was odd enough, but what he did next was even weirder.

“The flyer I gave you has my number on it, by the way.”

You looked at his face, soft brown eyes full of hope that made your heart twinge slightly with delight. He was so adorable.

“What happened to ‘I’m not hitting on you’?”

“I’m really not? It’s because my sister lost her phone, and,” he grinned sheepishly, scratching the back of his head, “I want to help her earn money as soon as possible. Because if I don’t-“

He grabbed both your arms, making you flinch a little in surprise, but not pull away, eyebrows perked at his words.

“-she’s going to make me drive her to uni every day! Do you want that for me?” He whisper-shouted this last bit, and you shrugged his arms off.

“I don’t even know your name, so…”

“Kim Jungwoo. Jungwoo. Are you from America?”

“How could you tell?” You smiled, the English rolling off your tongue with ease. “I’m actually technically from Canada. Born and raised. Lived in New York for a while, so…close enough, I guess.”

“Oh! So is my roommate! His brother is auditioning for SM tomorrow, and he needs me to drive them both there-“

You laughed, this time your head naturally rocking back. “Are you the campus free uber or something, Kim Jungwoo?”

“No, he’s dating my sister. Mark’s brother, not him. Hey!” He pointed one finger out, almost comically, like a cartoon character. “You should date Mark.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re both from Canada. It just makes sense. He gets lonely sometimes. I think it’ll be good. Will you come with me?” He talked with the speed of someone on drugs, but with none of the fatigue or lack of lust for life. In fact, he was what you would expect if you asked anyone in the world to picture someone bright and cheery.

You told yourself that was the only reason you said yes that day. Never could you have known how far your relationship would end up growing. Like the first seeds someone carelessly tosses to the dirt in the cold season, another person notices and starts to water here and then, it was only a matter of time before something bloomed come summer.

∞

“We’re going to be late.”

“Oh, relax.” Jungwoo scoffed, but you eyed his nervous hands, shaking and fumbling with everything, from the gear stick to the AC controls. Behind you, Mark’s voice called out. “Did you want me to-“

“No, Mark. It’s fine.” You shared a knowing glance with the Canadian boy in the back seat, and Jungwoo noticed. He coughed, smiling like he knew something everyone else didn’t. “Shut up.” You hissed. He giggled louder, now catching the attention of Mark’s brother behind the driver’s seat, his eyes warily leaving his phone for only a second or two. “What’s so funny?”

Jungwoo finally pulls back the gear shift, that engine now grumbling to life. “I just think _ is too nice and pretty to not have a date for Christmas.” Puppy dog eyes now on you, shirt hanging loosely on his body, he turned and tapped you on the chin playfully. You rolled your eyes, groaning. “Oh my god. Tell me why I even started talking to you that day?”

“You said you reminded me of a puppy.” He pouted, making a tiny, perhaps insignificant part of you beam with something warmer, deeper that just friendship. For the past month, Jungwoo and you had been on a casual texting basis. If by casual, you meant every day, multiple times a day. Turns out you both just had a lot to talk about, or were drawn to each other, or…well, you didn’t want to think about it too much. All you knew is that for the first time since you had arrived here, or honestly, in your entire life, you felt like yourself. And that was enough for you. More than enough.

Now here you guys were, talking about dates for Christmas.

“Can we go, guys? Seriously.” You nodded aggressively and swatted at Jungwoo to start the car, while Mark leaned over, tapping you on the shoulder. Your body swayed as Jungwoo started driving as if he hadn’t driven in ten years. “Jungwoo told me your lips are pretty.”

“Uhm, excuse me!” Jungwoo braked hard at the lights, making the two men in the backseat yelp, Mark now flown back with a resounding dull thump. “Oh my god. Forget making it on time. I’m not sure we’ll make it there alive.” Concerned murmurs filled the car, but Jungwoo kept his foot on the accelerator, pushing through. “Oh relax, guys. And also, you agreed with me, Mark!”

“Well,” You pressed your head against the seat, hoping to avoid a future concussion. “I am wearing Min-ah’s lipgloss, so, it’s all thanks to her.” You shared a smile with Jungwoo, him glancing at you for far too long for someone on a busy road. Mark’s brother raised his arm in frustration. “Jungwoo! Please. I want to be an idol, I want to live!” A loud honk kick-started the car again, narrowly missing the lights changing from yellow to red at the busy intersection.

“Oh, Jin-hyung! That means you could probably advertise the glosses, right?” He slunk back into his seat, muttering something like they’re both mad. “Well, like, after you pass, of course.”

“I’m not sure I will.” Everyone in the car started overlapping with words of affirmations and enthusiastic praises, even yourself. “You’re so great! And you’ve practiced, what, like ten times? And that’s just in front of us.”

“Yeah, Hyung.” Mark’s hands patted Jin-hyung’s knee. “You’re the best singer I know.”

Jin-hyung turned to face Mark swiftly. “Can you come in with me?”

“Um, wait-“

“Please? I’m gonna shit myself if I go in alone. Please?”

Jungwoo leant in towards you, and you immediately placed one hand on his shoulder, steadying him. “Easy, tiger. You know you have to stay in your seat to drive, right?”

His eyes not leaving the road, he asked, “What are they talking about?”

“Jin-hyung’s asking Mark if he can come in with him. I’m not sure if that’s allowed…” You trailed off, watching the building tower over you, drizzles of rain prickling the wide front window. “Wow. Is this it?”

Jungwoo nodded, his attention now on the brothers in the back seat as he tried to park the car. The atmosphere was noticeably intense now, and you also weren’t sure how to react. He coughed. “We’re here. You guys alright?”

“No. Shit, I can’t do it. I can’t.” Jin-hyung’s face was one of pure terror, face pale and clammy, pit stains now forming on his shirt despite the cold blasts of air from the AC. You and Jungwoo shared a glance, the first one that wasn’t silly, rolling your eyes or smirking. “Well, a-are you sure?”

He was quiet, and you noticed light reflecting off the rearview mirror, Mark looking down and biting his lip, face marked with intense concentration. The tension in the car was suddenly thick, like the way a bread knife runs through a block of cold butter, and you swallowed. Finally, Mark spoke. “Okay, Hyung. I’ll come in with you.”

You watched as Jin-young’s chest retreated as he breathed a sigh of relief, cheeks still flushed and red. He tried not to let this relief show, but his voice cracked as he spoke softly. “Thanks, Min-hyung.”

After the two left the car, it was just you and Jungwoo. And, for the first time since you guys had met, it was quiet, maybe even a little awkward. Your hands flew towards the controls of the car, trying to fill the time, only to be met with Jungwoo’s skin on the back of his hand. Wow, he felt so soft. “Oh, sorry. Do you listen to music? I mean, should we?” Retreating your hand slowly, you let your eyes travel to his face.

“Kiss me.”

“What?” You didn’t even register, even as you replied. He looked equally as shocked, staring back at you blankly as if someone else had said what he had said. He let one arm slump over the back of his seat, and your heart starting pounding, your throat clammy. “Jungwoo…”

“I don’t know why I said that, sorry.”

“Wait, do you…But you wanted…me and Mark…”

“I know!” He brought both his palms to his face, rubbing his eyes so hard until it felt like you were seeing stars. “I know. That was so stupid. I can’t believe that just happened.”

You were silent, your emotions rattling inside you noisily, threatening to blow your cover. Your mouth opened and closed a few times, until you stared at his doe eyes, his cheeks now flushed pink with embarrassment. You leaned over, closing your eyes at one point before your lips met, soft, plush, a mix of his morning Americano and the strawberry lipbalm from Min-ah. Pulling away, you were met with the tiny intricacies of his face, his scent, the feeling of his shirt under your palm. The cologne he was wearing tickled your sinuses. Normally you hated that smell, but today…

“Was that okay?” His breath caressed the thin skin on your face, and you nodded almost involuntarily. “Your cologne is a bit strong for me, though.”

“My what?”

“Sorry.” You had no idea why you were so unfiltered with him, thoughts running free from the confines of your brain and into the air. “It’s just…men’s cologne makes me sneeze.”

“Oh baby, you are so cute.” His voice deepened and it felt like someone just released a dozen hungry butterflies loose in your stomach, beautiful and urgent. He chuckled, pressing a kiss now to the sides of your lips. “You’re cute when you blush. So cute.”

The sound of the car door opening made you both jump, both pulling away in the process, backs now snug against your own seats. “How did it-“ you started.

“Min-hyung is going to be an idol!” Jin-hyung’s face was sweaty and warm, his eyes puffy and red possibly from crying, but he wore an unapologetic smile on his face, like this was what he wanted all along, and the relief was simply euphoric.

∞

You pulled your hand away from inside his, trying to rid the clammy feeling off your palms. “What’s wrong?”

“Just nervous.” Jungwoo towered over you, wearing one of those denim fleece jackets you loved so much over a white t-shirt you had gifted him 2 weeks ago. “You look so yummy in white, Woo.” You wanted to cringe at that your own voice reverberating through your skull, but you felt warm and nice instead, like you had just sipped hot chocolate in this freezing weather. He knocked his ankle against yours, playfully pushing you to the side, only to drag you back with his arm looped around yours. “I’m right here. It’s okay.”

“Okay.” You nodded, but anxiety still stirred inside you, making you sick. “Plus, we can always leave if you want.”

“_! Jungwoo-hyung!” Mark looked small in his oversized puffer jacket, waving one arm over his head enthusiastically. Beside him was Johnny Suh, a trainee friend of Mark’s from Chicago, master of sarcasm and dad jokes. Walking up towards the two men, Jungwoo’s arms slipped away from yours, and you playfully patted Johnny on the arm. “Hey, you.”

“Hey, gorgeous. Wait, are you and Jungwoo a thing now?” You half-smiled, shivering against the blast of cold air that pierced through your stockings. You felt warmth spreading on the small of your back, and Jungwoo’s voice behind you. “Yeah, man.”

“I got him that.” You pointed at Jungwoo’s shirt, and he pulled you closer to your side, squeezing your hip firmly. “Yeah. So you can stop flirting with her now.”

“Damn, so you went out with her only to stop me from flirting? Red flag.” He raised his eyebrows comically, and you laughed, but Jungwoo didn’t seem very amused, not to you. He smiled and nodded, but you immediately knew he was uncomfortable. His lips were pale but plump, and you fought the urge to kiss him, biting your own bottom lip in reflex.

When you went inside, you wriggled your shoulders, shaking off your coat. “Hey, baby, you okay? You’re not jealous, are you?” Your tone was teasing, but you watched him carefully, at the way he avoided eye contact with you as he searched for an empty space on the coat rack. “I’m fine.” He muttered, and you pressed your lips together, fighting a giggle. Probably your toxic trait but he was so cute when he was sulky and pouty that you didn’t know how anyone took him seriously. “Woo, please. Don’t lie.”

“Okay!” He still wasn’t looking at you, smiling and nodding at passersby’s as he spoke. “I don’t care that he flirts with you, I really don’t, I really really…”

“Yes, you do.” You rested your weight on one hip, crossing your arms across your chest to look up at him.

“No, I don’t! I trust you.” The warm flame you had burning inside you erupted, replacing that tiny flame of anxiety, filling you with a sense of security, of love. I trust you.

“But you said I’m the funniest man you met, yet you keep laughing at his jokes.”

It was your turn laugh noisily in response, so much so that Mark noticed and joined in from afar, probably already a little tipsy and sharing random anecdotes from his life that no one asked for. You brushed snow off your boyfriend’s shoulders, watching as his nose and cheeks flushed red from the cold. “Cute. You’re so cute.”

“Well, I know that, but am I funny? I don’t care if your exes were hot or whatever, but funny?”

“First of all, you know you’re my first serious relationship. And secondly, Johnny’s humour is different. It’s more flirty, on the spot. You, well, you’re awkward and cute funny, you know? Plus,” you leaned in, intentionally letting the lipgloss on your lips smudge on his sensitive skin behind his ear, “you’re the only one I wanna kiss so bad right now.”

“WOAH! Get a room, you too!” You pulled away, noticing that the red on his cheeks were deeper, spreading all over his face. His eyes stared back at you almost blankly, and you pecked his cheek. “After this, okay? You can have all of me.”

∞

Chest heaving, you shut your eyes, wanting to savour every moment that had passed. Your bare skin shone with a thin layer of sweat, legs tangled in his. You felt him brush up against your neck, his voice vibrating in your ears. “Was that okay?” He asked as if he already knew the answer, pressing his bare body closer to you. You answered by bringing your face closer to his, and he sighed. “You taste like watermelon today. Lemon yesterday, and then strawberry on Tuesday.”

“Jungwoo, this isn’t what I wanted you to say after we had sex for the first time.”

“Sorry.” His eyes were flickering shut. “But you taste really good. Like, everywhere.”

“That’s so cute and kind of nasty too.” You scrunched your nose, and he chuckled. You hiked one leg above his thigh, needing him again. “Can I?”

He kissed you, sucking your lips, making you moan audibly and the tension in your body release as you sunk down on his length. “O-oh.” You whimpered as he began to thrust slowly into you, pressing your hips tight against his. “Fuck, yes.”

Your boobs against his bare chest, arms wrapped around his broad shoulders, you kissed him deeply, not wanting to lose contact. He groaned, thrusts getting sloppier as you felt yourself reach your own high for the second time.

∞

Your butt was getting sore from sitting on the hard surface of the stairs for hours, but you didn’t care. You watched him hang out with his friends, making them laugh so hard you could hear them from metres away. You held the envelope tight in your shaky hands, suddenly nervous. What if he didn’t like it?

“Hey, _.” The stairs creaked as you looked up, watching Johnny’s figure shrouded by the faded light of dusk. You shuffled over as he sat next to you, resting his arms over his knees. He looked tired, only hints of his sarcastic self shining through here and there. “You here to see the missus?”

“Johnny.” You rolled your eyes, but your stomach churned as you realised his eyes were on the envelope in his hands. You snatched it away to hide under your jacket, but it was obviously too late. “What’s that? Is that for him?”

“Yeah.” You had no idea where this self-consciousness suddenly was coming from. You were so proud of it, even this morning as you were driving here. Johnny was silent, matching you as you both sat, letting the distant sounds of the boys yelling fill the space between you for a few moments. Finally, he spoke.

“He loves you.” You swallowed, suddenly feeling tears well up in your eyes. When was the last time anyone had loved you like that? “So don’t worry. He’ll like it.” He patted your shoulder, and with a few thundering steps, he was gone.

As you stood in front of Jungwoo again, the same nervousness brewing in your stomach, you tried to remember those words.

“What? Who loves me? What guy?” Jungwoo looked confused, genuinely frowning and holding your hands in his. You furrowed your eyebrows, slowly coming out of your thoughts. “What?”

“You just said, ‘he loves you’.”

“Oh, oh…I said that out loud?” You removed one hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Look, I, had this entire monologue prepared, but, um, I’m just a bit nervous.”

“Why?” He caressed your face, and you heard some ooos  and cheers come from the right of you. Jungwoo rolled his eyes. “Lee Donghyuck, if you don’t-“

You watched Haechan give you both over-enthusiastic thumbs up with his hands, and Jungwoo gently guided you off the stage, his hand flush on the small of your back. “Just relax, baby. It’s just me. You’re making me nervous. Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing like that.” You shook your head just as you whipped out the envelope and thrust it sideways. Your heart felt like it was bursting out of your chest, under all the layers you were wearing. You blurted out. “I kissed the pages. I kissed them after putting on the lip balms and glosses and lipsticks I wore when I kissed you and you told me I tasted good. I know! That’s the kind of thing that sounds cute in theory, but absolutely psychotic in real life. And I just-“

Jungwoo shut you up with a kiss, the envelope grazing your side as he held you tight with his other arm. Goosebumps ran up your limbs, despite all your layers. Pulling away, he rubbed his nose against yours, making you break out in a smile, despite how corny it was. “You’re probably thinking about how corny this all is. But I love it. I love this. And I love you.”

[gimmethatagustd]

like a river | kth + myg + knj

As the only omega professor in the Department of Philosophy at Seoul National University, Yoongi is accustomed to dealing with pretentious alphas who think the world revolves around knots.

○ Pairing: Taehyung x Yoongi x Namjoon

○ Rating: Explicit/18+

○ Genre: A/B/O, college professors au, coworkers to lovers (?), smut

○ 14 / 100 Drabble Challenge (Academic)

○ Word Count: 3,761

○ Warnings: Unprotected anal sex, blow job, heat sex, knotting, light dom/sub vibes

○ Notes: Please don't read this unless you genuinely like A/B/O fics; otherwise it could be too much for you. I'm warning you in advance. I'm not responsible for your Tumblr experience :)

○ Post Date: May 12, 2024

○ Masterlist | AO3 Crosspost

○ What was Jai listening to? River - Bishop Briggs

Yoongi’s heat comes early.

He’s flipping the page of a thick, leatherbound textbook in the University’s library basement, where the archives are when his damp fingers stick to the page. Sweat beads along his hairline, breaking up the gel that once held his hair out of his face and letting a few dark strands fall across his forehead and into his eyes.

Slowly, Yoongi closes the book and parts the space on the shelf where he needs to slide it back with the other alphabetized philosophers’ texts. It’s been nearly three hours since Yoongi visited the archives with his fellow professors to collaborate on changes to the next academic year’s curriculum. They all need to come to a consensus on which books to include in the senior year capstone project syllabus. It’s hard enough to find an agreement in a department of fifteen alphas, two betas, and one omega without going into heat in the middle of their research.

It’s fine. Yoongi is in his mid-thirties; he has dealt with unexpected heats before.

None were as sudden as this, though, and none came at such an inconvenient time.

Yoongi hears a few of his colleagues bid their goodbyes from the opposite side of the room as they exit to take the stairs to the ground floor. Three hours is too long; looking at his phone, Yoongi realizes the library closed nearly an hour ago. Perhaps he’ll get lucky, and none of his colleagues will be here by the time he finishes packing his things.

Yoongi is unsteady when he walks down the aisle; his body feels heavy, and his muscles are weak. His heat shouldn’t have hit him so suddenly. Yoongi meticulously tracks his heats to accurately predict the exact time of day they’ll hit. He doesn’t believe in suppressants, thinks they’re utter bullshit, just one more way for alphas to control omegas’ lives. He lives naturally and keeps a log religiously. There’s no reason for this to be happening.

By the time Yoongi reaches the corner of the room where he had left his belongings on one of the study desks, his dress shirt is soaked with sweat. Dark red splotches are at his armpits, and a short, thin line at his sternum along the shirt buttons.

Thankfully, packing takes little time. Yoongi shoves his laptop and a few books into his worn leather satchel and slips it over his shoulder. His knuckles turn white from how tightly he squeezes the strap, and he drags his fingers along the wall to steady himself as he walks the perimeter of the room. The book titles and hangul headings on each aisle blur from the burn of sweat falling into his eyes. Using the back of one hand, Yoongi wipes the sweat from his forehead and exhales slowly through puckered lips.

The exit is five exhales away. Yoongi makes it to three exhales before he chokes on the next one and is inundated by the earthy scent of cedarwood and cardamom that leaves a bitter aftertaste in the back of his throat.

"Oh! I didn't realize anyone else was still here. I don't think I've stayed in the library this long since—Um, are you okay, sunbaenim?"

The alpha sitting at a table to the right of the exit is one Yoongi has done his best to avoid the entirety of the academic year, not by any fault of the man himself. Taehyung is one of the few tolerable alpha professors in the department. Young and fresh out of graduate school, he's promising as a professor despite his reviews being skewed in his favor because most of the student body has a crush on him. Yoongi may as well be a blushing college student because Taehyung's big brown eyes and sharp jawline make him want to stay as far away from Taehyung as possible.

"Y-Yes, just, uh," Yoongi fumbles over his swollen tongue, which feels dry in his mouth. "I'm just turning in for the night."

He prays that Taehyung lets him be. The exit is right there. All Yoongi needs to do is take a few more steps past the table, and he'll have his sweaty hand wrapped around the doorknob. The longer he stands here with Taehyung scrutinizing him, the less time he'll have to get home before he turns into a pathetic, sex-crazed monster.

Usually sweet, Yoongi's citrus scent turns bitter with his distress when he remembers he didn't drive to work today. He'll have to use public transportation to get home. No matter how strongly Yoongi rejects the sexist narrative that omegas are more vulnerable than alphas and betas, even he can't deny how unfavorable it would be to get on the train at night at the onset of his heat with strangers.

"Sunbaenim…" Taehyung takes a step toward Yoongi, who then takes a step backward. "You… your heat."

Taehyung audibly inhales, and shame creeps up Yoongi's chest, turning his neck and cheeks bright red, burning him like wildfire because the look on Taehyung's face makes him slick.

"It's fine," Yoongi whispers, and it most certainly is not fine.

When his thighs hit the edge of a table, he lets go of his satchel's strap to reach behind him. In his nervousness, he backs himself across the aisle from Taehyung's table, though Taehyung follows him with timid steps and rounded eyes.

"I don't mean to be rude, sunbaenim, but I don't think it's safe for you to go alone in this state."

Taehyung says more, but Yoongi doesn't pay attention. Taehyung's voice warbles and morphs into the muffled sound of someone trying to speak underwater, and all Yoongi can do is hone in on how pretty Taehyung's fingers are when he glides them through his caramel hair and how veiny his forearms get when he folds the sleeves of his white buttoned dress shirt to talk with his hands. Unlike Yoongi, who is short and soft around the edges and along his creases, Taehyung is tall and lean. His shoulders are broad and his hands large, and the swell of his biceps against the tight sleeves of his buttoned shirt is too much for Yoongi to look at.

Yoongi hates alphas. He hates how narcissistic they are and how they dominate every space they're in. Even now, he hates how Taehyung's scent is comforting and tantalizing, coaxing Yoongi's omega out of him and triggering his heat to barrel into him with the weight of a freight train.

Most of all, Yoongi hates the person his biology turns him into when he's around a pretty, big alpha like Taehyung.

"Just help me, okay?" Yoongi snaps from the exhausting headache building from the blood pounding in his skull.

"Of course, sunbaenim." Taehyung's eyebrows shoot up, but he's gentle as he grabs the strap of Yoongi's satchel and takes it off to hold it himself. "I'll drive you home. I just need to stop by my office first. Do you think you can—"

"No," Yoongi whines and hates himself for it, but he can't stop himself.

"No, you can't wait? Or—"

“Help me, Taehyung-ah.”

Taehyung's face maintains its innocent look of concern, but his ears turn bright red once he breathes in the ripe scent of Yoongi's slick, and the meaning of Yoongi's demand washes over him.

"You want alpha to help you?" Taehyung asks quietly, and Yoongi feels the deep rumble of Taehyung's voice reverberate violently through his body, weakening his knees. 

Yoongi's heat isn't forcing him to whimper a tiny "yes"; his attraction to Taehyung goes far beyond animalistic instinct. Apparently, Taehyung's does, as well.

"Gonna take my knot, omega?" Taehyung runs his long fingers through Yoongi's sweaty hair, gathering it in a makeshift ponytail and tugging Yoongi's head backward so he's forced to look into Taehyung's eyes. "Is that what'll make you feel better? Is an alpha's knot going to fix you?"

Taehyung's condescending tone, paired with his sudden harsh grip, makes Yoongi gasp. Though Yoongi's heat makes him lightheaded and lethargic, he has enough energy and wits about him to be irritated by Taehyung's comments.

"I don't need a knot," Yoongi demands through gritted teeth when Taehyung tightens his grip on his silky hair. He and Taehyung both hear how unconvincing he sounds, especially when Taehyung reaches around to squeeze his ass, and Yoongi instinctually presses back against his hands.

"It's okay, sunbaenim," Taehyung cradles Yoongi's rigid jaw in his palm. With gentle strokes, he traces Yoongi's lips with his thumb, pressing on the center of his bottom lip and pulling down. "All omegas need a knot. You were made for it."

Yoongi knows Taehyung is wrong. He wasn't made for anything or anyone but himself. That's the problem with alphas; they think the world revolves around their knots. Yoongi has taken very few knots in his life and found that relationships with betas and other omegas are far more fulfilling.

He doesn't need a knot. He doesn't.

But then one of Taehyung's hands squeezes Yoongi's face so he can angle Yoongi's head to the side as he licks up a bead of sweat trickling down his temple. His other hand unzips his slacks, and Yoongi realizes he's got Taehyung's shirt twisted in his fists to pull their bodies together.

Maybe Yoongi does. He feels Taehyung's cock, warm and hard, against the inside of his thigh, and maybe he needs a knot.

"Are you going to be a good little omega for me, sunbaenim?" Taehyung asks, teeth clenching at Yoongi's bobbing throat.

More slick leaks from between Yoongi's cheeks, and Taehyung makes a show out of shoving his hand in the back of Yoongi's slacks to glide his fingers through it. Taehyung laughs when Yoongi trembles as he presses against his rim, just enough to tease but not enough to push through.

"You need to use your words, little omega. Be good for alpha, and he'll be good to you."

Despite his harsh demeanor, Taehyung's sparkling eyes look soft, and his grip on Yoongi's body is firm but gentle.

"I'll be good," Yoongi says with a sharp intake of air when Taehyung abruptly yanks Yoongi's pants down his thighs.

It doesn't matter that they're still on campus, still at work. Yoongi lets Taehyung help him out of his clothes, tossing them onto the floor with his satchel. He's very aware of the fact that Taehyung keeps his clothes on and only unzips his pants to pull his cock out. It makes Yoongi feel dirty and vulnerable, being the only one naked. If someone were to walk in on them, Taehyung could easily cover himself and leave, whereas Yoongi would be left scrambling. Taehyung could slip away, and Yoongi would lose his job.

Yoongi hates alphas and their need to hoard power, but he turns into a quivering mess when Taehyung grabs him by the back of the head and forces him to bend over the table with his cheek against the cold surface.

"You'll be good and stay quiet, won't you?" Taehyung asks as he dips his thumbs into Yoongi's hole and pulls, groaning at how wet and pliant the muscles are.

Yoongi says yes, but he doesn't mean it. There's no way for him to regulate himself when Taehyung slowly eases his cock inside him.

The moment the thick head pushes through his rim, Yoongi's mind goes blank. He's so worked up that his heat is all-consuming by this point. Yoongi knows he's babbling as Taehyung thrusts into him because Taehyung shoves his middle and ring fingers into Yoongi's mouth. He presses down on Yoongi's tongue, making drool gather at the corners of his mouth but effectively keeping him quiet since all Yoongi can do is moan around his fingers.

"That's it, omega, suck on them and keep quiet," Taehyung murmurs as Yoongi wraps his lips around his fingers.

Taehyung gets in a few deep, long thrusts when the door leading to the stairs opens.

Yoongi, whose eyes had been squeezed shut with pleasure, immediately opens them and tries to get up, but Taehyung keeps him pressed against the table. Panic tickles the edges of his mind, but he doesn't really feel it like he should, can't truly grasp it when Taehyung's cock is fat and warm and so close to filling Yoongi up with his knot.

For a moment, Taehyung's hips slow to a stop. Not driven by hormones like Yoongi, Taehyung likely feels the panic of getting caught hit him full-force. That is until he realizes who has joined them.

Yoongi would recognize the other alpha's scent anywhere for how rich and creamy it smells, like freshly made chocolate, still warm. A fellow professor who has also crossed Yoongi's mind more than once, Namjoon is slightly more tolerable than Taehyung, mainly because his alpha arrogance is at least rooted partially in how much of a confirmed genius he is. Not that Yoongi cares about any of that with a dick up his ass. He's still trying not to panic. Although his heat loosens him up a bit and helps him let go of some of his inhibitions about sex, it's still difficult to completely accept that this is natural. Yoongi doesn't want to succumb to the need for an alpha's knot, but he knows he should give in to the instinct — especially if he has someone as handsome and giving as Taehyung to help him through it, if only for the night.

And then there's Namjoon, poor Namjoon, with his mouth hanging open and his tan cheeks turning rosy.

"Holy shit," Namjoon says weakly, his dark eyes flitting between Taehyung and Yoongi. "I came back because I thought I left my wallet. I tried calling you, Tae, um…"

Namjoon trails off, and Yoongi is sure they all think there's no point in explaining anything. Namjoon is smart. He can pick up on Yoongi's scent and understand why he's sweaty and slicked up, and Taehyung's fingers are shoved down his throat.

"Our sunbaenim needed some help." Taehyung's explanation is as half-assed as Namjoon's, and it's still too much.

Yoongi feels silly, pressed to the table with nothing to say and no way to say it anyway, even if he wants to. If it wasn't for Namjoon's embarrassment, Yoongi would be mortified to be caught in this position.

"You're not going to say anything to anyone, are you, hyung?" Taehyung asks with a cocked eyebrow. It doesn't look threatening, but it isn't the usually friendly demeanor Taehyung has.

Namjoon quickly shakes his head. "No, no, of course not..."

To Namjoon, who is barely keeping himself together, Taehyung's behavior probably does seem threatening. His eyes keep falling to where Taehyung and Yoongi are connected, no matter how many times he tries to keep his eyes on their faces — on Taehyung's face because Yoongi's face looks too pornographic, twisted in pleasure despite how nervous he is.

When Taehyung notices, he gives a little thrust, gently grinding against Yoongi's ass. Yoongi can't tell if he's purposefully grinding into his prostate, but he hits it every time, making Yoongi moan. He tries to grab the edge of the table to have something to hold onto, but his arms aren't long enough to reach. Taehyung jostles him forward, then eases him back, just to snap his hips into him again.

Yoongi should do something. He feels like he should, or at least say something. Anything at all. But he slowly realizes that he doesn’t want to. He hasn’t been with an alpha in so long that he’s wondering if he simply forgot how good it feels to be cared for and used. Taehyung fucks Yoongi because he feels good, so pliant and wet and a whimpering mess lying there to be taken, but he’s also doing it to make Yoongi feel better, to take the edge off his heat so Yoongi can get home safely without attracting unwanted attention or hurting his omega’s feelings by ignoring his instinct. The situation is mutually beneficial in that way; if Yoongi intellectualizes the whole thing, he can feel better about being fucked in the library by his younger coworker in front of another younger coworker.

The entire situation is insane, and all Yoongi can do is drool over it.

When Taehyung finally removes his fingers from Yoongi’s mouth, it isn’t to relieve him but to ask him a question.

“Sunbaenim, I feel bad for my hyung,” Taehyung says gently as he rubs his palms up and down Yoongi’s back. "He’s so hard.”

Still standing at the door, Namjoon inhales sharply, loud enough for Yoongi to notice it. When Yoongi looks, Taehyung’s observation is confirmed, though Yoongi isn’t surprised. What kind of an alpha would Namjoon be if he wasn’t turned on by what he sees? The erotic scent of heat sex alone would be enough to make any alpha feel the need to pop a knot.

“Oh,” Yoongi sighs, dragging his eyes from the apparent bulge in Namjoon’s pants to his narrowed eyes.

“Mhm. Don’t you think you should do something about that? Since it’s your fault?”

Yoongi tries to crane his head around to look at Taehyung, shocked by his question — accusation.

There's still a part of Yoongi that wants to tell Taehyung and Namjoon to fuck off because why is any of this his fault? It's not his fault his heat showed up early and unannounced. It's not his fault that Namjoon is horny.

Unfortunately, there's the natural side of him, the side that isn't burdened by social norms, gender roles, philosophy, and all the other bullshit in the manmade world. The natural, instinctual side of Yoongi wants to jump at the opportunity to pleasure and be pleasured.

So when Taehyung has Yoongi turn around to lie on the table on his back, he does so without hesitation. Once Namjoon approaches the side of the table next to Yoongi's face and follows Taehyung's lead by taking his cock out, Yoongi eagerly opens his mouth with Taehyung's encouragement.

"Such a good omega," Taehyung praises as he caresses Yoongi's face to brush his hair back as Namjoon feeds him his cock.

Namjoon lets his head fall back as Yoongi takes more into his mouth. He can't move the way he wants to, can only rock back and forth when Taehyung begins fucking him again, each snap of his hips jostling Yoongi and making Namjoon's cock slip out of his mouth.

It's overwhelming when Namjoon grabs Yoongi's head and begins to fuck his mouth, alternating how he thrusts into his throat with the frequency of Taehyung fucking his ass. They establish a rhythm, playing Yoongi like some sacred instrument only they know, spending the time to learn to do it properly. 

Yoongi can hardly breathe. Taehyung pounds into him so hard that Yoongi feels like he fucks the air right out of his chest. It gets worse as Taehyung's thrusts become more aggressive, and he begins chasing his climax. When Namjoon's cock hits the back of Yoongi's throat, he drools and gags violently enough that it hurts, but his omega likes it.

"Shh, just, fuck, just a little more," Namjoon moans. He fists Yoongi's hair and squeezes, keeping a tight grip on him when his thrusts become more shallow. "Shit, I'm not gonna last."

"Knot his mouth."

Yoongi's eyes fly open, but he can't look at Taehyung; he can only hear his quiet laughter. Alphas and their fucking knots.

Yoongi hates them. He hates how good they feel, like now, when he can tell that Taehyung is close because his knot is starting to catch at Yoongi's rim. It burns as it grows, expanding so much that Yoongi wonders if his body can genuinely take it if maybe he's not deep enough in his heat for this — and then Namjoon reaches over to pump Yoongi's cock as he and Taehyung keep fucking him.

Their rhythm gets thrown off and messy, first when Taehyung cums with a final thrust that forces his knot inside and then when he makes Yoongi cum immediately after.

Rather than follow suit in the same manner, Namjoon pulls out to spill onto Yoongi's face, keeping one hand squeezed around his knot and the other quickly fisting over his shaft until there's nothing left, all of his cum painted across Yoongi's lips and the side of his cheek.

“Fuck,” Namjoon sighs and lets his body slump into one of the chairs surrounding the table, “Holy fuck.”

Namjoon shakes his head with a laugh of disbelief, and Yoongi hates how cute he finds his dopey, dimpled, fucked out smile to be.

Yoongi slowly turns his head until he’s staring up at the ceiling, and his neck is no longer twisted to the side. It hurts to swallow, but he’s terribly surprised by how satiated he feels, so content that he almost feels sleepy — despite Namjoon’s cum on his face, Taehyung’s in his ass, and his own all over his stomach and chest.

Disgusting. Yoongi has never been so sticky and wet in his entire life, and he likes it.

Taehyung looks just as messy, if not worse, than Namjoon, though the two of them combined can’t beat out Yoongi’s current state. Taehyung’s bangs are plastered to his forehead with sweat, and his shirt is tucked inward to avoid getting cum and slick all over the bottom half. Yoongi doesn’t even want to know what kind of story his reflection would tell him if he looked at his appearance. All he can hope is that he didn’t get bodily fluids on his satchel or the books they need for the semester.

At least Namjoon and Taehyung have the decency to clean Yoongi up. It isn’t the best job, considering all they have to work with are the paper towels from the shotty little bathroom in the back corner of the archives, but it’s better than sacrificing someone’s clothes to clean up the mess.

“Thank you,” Yoongi is quiet with his gratitude. The embarrassment and panic he missed before are now hitting him since the fogginess in his brain from his heat has subsided, at least for a little bit. “I, um, don’t really know what to say…”

“You don’t have to thank us, Yoongi sunbaenim.” Namjoon smiles sweetly, and Taehyung nods in agreement.

“Yeah, we just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

It’s a rather extreme way of doing so, but Yoongi did ask for it.

“I still don’t know where my wallet is, though…” Namjoon points out sadly, and Yoongi can’t help but bark a hoarse laugh.

“I can’t fucking stand alphas.”

Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories. 

All rights reserved © @gimmethatagustd​ - Do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my writing. Do not use my writing for any AI purposes whatsoever. Do not use my fics for anything aside from reading and commenting on them. My fics will only be posted on this Tumblr and on AO3 (gimmethatagustd & daddytaehyungie). Request an AO3 account here. 

[forgottendolly]

Things I loved in Station Theatre’s RTC because I can’t stop thinking about it and I don’t think I ever will😔😔 (in no particular order whatsoever😇🙏)

- JANES REACTIONS TO HER BIRTHDAY SONG

- Virgil the rat chewing the power cable and his little ears and head just bobbed 😭😭

- JANES PIGTAILS

- The whole pre jawbreaker monologue (yes, I cried… sobbed more accurately)

- Mischa blowing a party blower at Jane and her getting scared x2

- Constance’s cotton Candy earrings 😞💗 I need them for myself!!!!!

- Ocean and Constance doing their little “improv” skit was done so perfectly I laughed so hard 💀

- Jane running and hugging Ocean during her “i love you guys” speech and just not letting her go LIKE FULL ON HOLDING ONTO HER AND DRAGGING ALONG AS OCEAN BACKED AWAY

- CONSTANCE RECORDER SOLO SLAYED I THINK I BURST MY LUNG SCREAMING

- Ricky and Jane ARE REAL

- Ricky coming out in all black with his head down at the start and half doing the choreo

- Noel laughing when Karnak tells Ocean that the person who wins will be decided by a unanimous vote

- Jane saying “for me? 🥺” when Constance offers her the hello Kitty cupcake

- Her proceeding to squish said cupcake in her hand and try to eat the paper decoration on top leading to the others having to stop her

- Mischa offering Jane a sip of vodka and she drinks like half the bottle 💀💀

- Jane making her doll dance

- NOEL APPLYING LIPSTICK BY A MIRROR HELD UP BY JANE (ICONIC ALONG WITH THE STAINED CIGARETTE)

- SBM COSTUME CHANGEEE 2012 FLASHBACKS

- Ricky teaching Jane how to ballroom dance after TNBS

- RICKY SLAYING THE ACCORDIANN

- Janes headless pose at the start and end of the show

- Janes little neck ribbon

- “Do you want to know what I find really super hurts?” DEATH STARE

- Mischa throwing money into the audience (yes I kept one sorry not sorry)

- Jane picking up two of the pieces of money and handing them to people in the audience

- someone getting picked up and spun around more than once??? YES. You heard me, more than once. I almost got knocked out by Janes shoe and honestly would have thanked her

- Monique ate the whole time

- Seriously OBSESSED with Noel’s Lament

- Spacedolls I repeat SPACEDOLLS

- Janes little bottom eyelashes

- Oceans cute little hair bow I LOVER HERR

- Mischa flipping everyone and everything off every 3 seconds

- Jane trying to bring Ricky with her to the other side

- Jane giving Ricky her doll before she leaves to the other side

- The group going over to hug Mischa after Talia, including Constance Jane and ofc Noel

- Ricky ASL 💗💗💗💗

- Clip on earrings (ifykyk)

- JANE GETTING THE HAT

- Penny lamb life compilation (I was in tears) AND THEN WITH THE BEAUTIFUL ITS NOT A GAME VOCALS?!! HEART SHATTERED!

- Having to hold back Jane from biting ocean after the “and she’s a freaky monster” line

- Noel saying hello to Jane and Jane moving her little dolls arm say hi back

- The ropes they used to make Jane look like a marionette doll during TBOJD

- Constance bring the puppet master during TBOJD

- The headless doll being on the side of the wall and the kid sitting next to me pointing it out cause my blind ass didn’t see it at first

- Talia skirts 💗💗

- The way Jane goes limp after her introduction song

- FORNICATION… UNDER CONSENT OF THE KINGGGG!!!! *holding long ass sword above her head*

[winchester-reload]

I have a few thoughts about the Winchesters finale, and though I wasn’t gonna weigh in on this, it turns out I needed to write this down to get it out of my head, so here we go.

I understand that Misha was approached to be included on the show and that there was a “scheduling conflict” that included multiple conversations with Jensen. Here’s my interpretation of that: 

I believe Cas was supposed to make a cameo in episode 13 to tee up the confession resolution—this was always the episode where they were going to crack open the “surprise twist” even before learning they would only get 13 episodes total. In the original scenario, episode 13 would have been the hellatus episode rather than a finale, leaving room for everything to come to a head with episode 22 instead. It’s then they would have given us the actual Dean and Cas reunion. This would have wrapped both stories nicely with each group going off into their own respective sunsets—their own happy endings, while still leaving all the room for the new crew to explore more seasons; all along, we see, The Winchesters was about Dean and Cas as much as it was about Mary and John.

When they didn’t get the back half of the season picked up, I assume they feared it would be more dangerous to show a Cas cameo without getting to address the confession, so Misha likely opted to be left out instead. With the only hint to Cas being Dean’s line that he was looking for his family when he found the Akrida, then directly drawing the parallel that Jack and Bobby were “family.” The core crew for Dean has always been Bobby, Sam, Jack, AND Cas. And he wasn’t looking for Sam because he was still on earth. So who’s left? You might be compelled to believe he was window shopping AU versions of his parents, but he confirms he ran into the Akrida in this world and then sought to interfere with the order by approaching John in an effort to prevent it from spreading to Sam's world. (Why Cas would be AU hopping, idk. The boy is really afraid of being shot down, I guess.)

It goes far to explain the vast narrative parallels we saw reflected in the Monster Club crew if it was intended as a setup for the confession payoff. It honestly doesn’t make a lot of sense otherwise. There’s no reason these people should be living Dean's experiences and regrets every episode unless the writers wanted the viewer to be thinking about the lessons and resolutions in how they relate to Dean too.

Additionally, as this has been a largely uncontested take, this is Jensen's well-funded fanfic come to life. Complete with the embracing of many of our favorite fanfic tropes and emphasized by Dean’s own words throughout the season. Because this is an obvious embrace of that “write your own story” fan side, I believe the reason Dean couldn’t even say Cas’ name in the episode is because they were going to change the spelling from “Cass” as it was in the show proper to the fan-adopted (and more accurate) spelling of “Cas,” which would have appeared in the subtitles and later the script pages.  And even that little thing right there would have been a huge giveaway to the whole game. And a very dangerous thing to do if there wasn’t going to be enough time for follow-through. 

But the truth is, this isn’t a game for many people, and the harm that can be caused by good intentions is just as real. It also begs the question: why should this be so difficult? The answer is it’s not. Edging forever isn’t fun. It’s torture. I understand there’s an art to storytelling, but your audience is weary, and trust has been violated too many times. Even still, the flip side of that coin is honest to god respect for DeanCas endgame means taking the story and the reveal seriously. It’s a tightrope walk. And one that Robbie somehow managed to keep balanced after the finale, without it falling either way.  Also we also need to consider the possibility that Jensen did pitch a full-on destiel love story spin-off but got shot down, opting to couch it in a more CW-branded world instead. He’s mentioned over half a dozen pitches were rejected. It's up to you whether you want to give him the benefit of the doubt on that.

But, I’m gonna be honest here, I don’t know that we will ever get that resolution we crave. Even Robbie confirmed The Winchesters were always meant to “go it alone” after the first season. It’s hard to imagine Dean popping in there to fuck around again after that handoff. But the dude is clearly a very restless sea-faring*, swoopy-haired mofo right now, so I’ll leave that one up to the SPN multiverse and the new Mr. Superwholock’s magical universe-traveling impala. (This show used to be about what again? *looks at notes*.) And FWIW, if they do get green-lit for a whole second season or are allowed to move networks, I believe a good-faith effort will be made to tie the narrative parallels we saw in season one to some real Dean and Cas resolution. If there gets to be a world where John *might* not turn into an abusive dick, then this possibility has to be true too.

For the record, I enjoyed The Winchesters, all the new characters, and the doors the finale opened for the possibility of more. I would have been fine half-watching it with no promises, empty head no thoughts, but I got my clown** suit on again, and though I mostly kept quiet, unlike last time, I did regrettably manage to drag a few friends down with me yet again.  Though the spec sessions were epic, and we did get some art out of it—it still rocks the boat when the base level expectations were only 1. Dean alive, and 2. seeing Cas again. 

But for anyone, like me, upset by the (likely unintentional) Cas-baiting or anyone still reeling about why this stuff can hit so hard, here’s an interesting article about the way our brains respond to fictional characters. Tl;dr: There’s nothing wrong with you. This is science. And while you’re at it, take a look at this article about the very real power of disenfranchised grief over character loss.

Ramble on, fam. And take care of yourselves.

<3 Jackie

*Um hi he appears as a sailor? Literally, on a show with a story Dean is writing whose audience is looking for a resolution to a conversation between two people who’re famously the “most shipped” characters of all time? That’s not an accident. That’s intentional. And it’s another reason why there might be a bitter taste in your mouth. These nods came without resolution, so it still feels dirty, despite the brilliant Easter egg.

**I hesitate to say “clown” here because the lesson on episode 12 was that the clowns were the ones who chose a self-induced limbo rather than face some personal hard revelations. That sounds more like a certain closeted character than it does the people cheering him on, and that felt like an intentional nod too.

***obviously, this is my own rambling spec as I try to reorder my thoughts in the wake of the finale.