#it did help to type all this out at least

[alagaisia]

This is true, and it’s especially true for the people that I think most is us probably encounter in our own social circles and daily lives. But I don’t think it’s true for everybody. Remember how there was that stat showing a spike in google searches for “did Joe Biden drop out” on Election Day?

I think it’s sort of like how you can’t know what you can’t know. If you don’t know that you’re missing information, you can’t go looking to educate yourself on it. And while most of the time when people talk about “living in a bubble” they tend to mean it in a bad faith, paradox of tolerance type of way, I’ve realized lately that it’s a concept that’s absolutely applicable in a lot of ways. Of course we make our assumptions about the world based on the very limited and biased sample size of people we interact with in our daily lives. You can’t talk about the benefits of being able to curate our dashes on tumblr and then say you think the people who interact with the same political posts as you make a representative sample of the American public.

I am someone who tries to be pretty aware of environmental issues in my personal habits. My family isn’t zero-waste, granola, organic everything, but we haven’t used a plastic shopping bag or water bottle since I was in first grade. As I start forming my own adult habits and thinking about having more control over my consumption, I’m identifying ways I could move towards more environmental consciousness. I know that I’m not doing the absolute most I could be doing, and that I think about this more than the people around me, but not by that much, right?

Except I work now for an organization that sends plays on things like proper sorting of recycling to teach elementary students two counties from where I live. The county pays us to bring these programs, because the residents are simply not recycling. I’ve gone along on one or two of the programs and seen kids ten and eleven years old participating in the interactive “help us sort the recycling” activity in the show who were terrible at it. Because it’s just not something their community thinks about. These aren’t rural areas, these aren’t devoid of civilization or waste management infrastructure, this is a suburb 45 minutes from the largest city in our state.

It’s hard for me to wrap my head around it, too, but trump did not win because more people voted for him. He won because record numbers of people did not vote at all. And we can blame that on individual leftists becoming cynical and disillusioned, but something like a third of the country has never voted in any election. There are people who are and always have been disconnected from and disinterested in the government and electoral politics and anything happening in this country.

And it’s wrong! I’m not saying it isn’t. Each of us has a responsibility to our communities, and the civic responsibility of voting and being at least minimally informed on what’s happening in the country is a part of living in a fucking society. It’s disgraceful. But many of those non-voters didn’t consider all of the available information and then choose not to educate themselves and not to vote. It simply didn’t occur to them. Just like the kids I encountered who don’t know how to recycle, a lot of people have grown up in families and communities where electoral politics were somebody else’s business, or for any number of other reasons I can’t begin to guess at, something that just wasn’t a priority. I come from a very politically motivated family, and I’m sure most of you do too. I don’t know anybody who doesn’t vote. I don’t know why each of them didn’t. But there are millions of people who don’t.

These problems have been building since long before 2016, but at the very least that election should have been a wake up call for the democratic party on a national level. What we needed and still need is community and individual level action on a national scale to reach non-voters and educate them on political issues and why this shit does actually affect them and does actually matter. Democrats need to stop folding to random criticism on things like fracking and instead have some fucking backbone, stick to their morals, and work to get votes through education and changing people’s minds and convincing them that these values are worth voting for, rather than changing their policies every other week based on what they think might appease people who are not going to vote for them anyway without a concentrated effort for a societal change of mindset.

Yes, there’s lots of information available, and people do have a responsibility to use that. Obviously there are plenty of people like the ones OP alludes to who are shirking that responsibility due to apathy. But those of us who know all of that know it because we are part of communities that care about accessing and acting based on that information. There are people who don’t know and don’t care and to whom it would never occur to seek that information out, because in their community, it doesn’t matter. And those are the people who I think the democratic party does have a real responsibility to try harder to reach. Politicians also obviously live in a social bubble where everybody cares about politics. But somebody needs to look at the numbers and realize that that’s just not true for the country as a whole. And then they need to do something about it.

I STILL sometimes see people argue that Trump's victory is the fault of Democrats for not being good enough at messaging, and not making it clear enough to Americans all the good Biden was doing.

I knew. Lots of people I know knew. I don't have a secret line to the white house. I'm around average intelligence. I'm not excessively seeking out news, constantly getting news updates. And yet I knew. And so did many others. The information was there for you to get at any time. It found its way to me without my actively seeking it out. Kamala Harris cannot personally come to your house and slap the tiktok out of your hands. You have to take a crumb of responsibility here.

[c4toru]

BLOWING OFF STEAM !

Sypnosis : you’re on the brink of failing and in desperate need of a tutor. nerd!suguru is here to save the day! what happens when you find the nerdy perv a bit cute..— what?

Warnings : 18+ content, female reader, switch!reader, switch!geto, pervy suguru, unprotected sex, creampie, oral sex ( m + f receiving ), cowgirl position, panty sniffing, etc.

WC : 2.7k

a/n : i hope you all like this !! i’ve had nerd!suguru on my brain for a while, nobody ever writes him this pathetic, c4toru is here to save the day! ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ minors & ageless blogs dni

“fuck..” you grumble, you had just received a passive email from your statistics professor informing you that your grades have dropped severely in the past couple of weeks. he was concerned with the fact that this continuous behavior could lead to you failing his class, insisting that you give tutoring a try. you run your hands through your sleek hair, leaning far back into your chair before sighing noisily.

you always had a tough time with maintaining decent grades, especially in courses as complicated as statistics. it was a class that always left you feeling extremely stagnant. you don’t know anyone in your class but you do in fact briefly recall your professor naming one particular man as his top student.

suguru geto wasn’t necessarily intimidating, he seemed very welcoming and kind! well, at least he portrayed that side of himself to you. you had once done a quick in-class study session together as part of an assignment, he was exceptionally shy but not a total freak. the rest of your classmates tended to avoid associating themselves with him, not wanting to be labeled as a friend of the peevish and perfectionist nerd.

you dragged your hands down your face before slouching over your laptop once more. you figured one study session with him wouldn’t be the end of the world, very much awkward but not a total disaster. your nails hit the keyboard, quickly typing until you’ve scrounged up a coherent email explaining your situation. you began skimming through the bold text, your eyes gliding across the luminant screen before clicking ‘send’.

it feels as though an additional weight has been added to your workload. you stretch your limbs, pressing your lips together before raising yourself out of your seat. you turn, heading to your bed when you hear a raucous noise coming from behind you. ding

sugurugeto : of course i can help. although, the library tends to be too crowded for me to focus.. could we study at your place? | 10:05pm

you stare at the screen for a while, narrowing your eyes, bringing your hand up to your frazzled face, harshly pressing it to your forehead. “is he fucking serious..?” you whine, letting a random nerd from your statistics class into your dorm room, were you crazy..? you contemplate your next move, going through numerous situations as you play them all out in your head. “ugh maybe i am crazy,” you groan while you type away at your computer, clicking send on your message reluctantly.

y/n : that’s understandable, if you don’t have any other study locations in mind then we could do so at my place. thank you for the help! | 10:15pm

sugurugeto : does tomorrow at 6pm sound good for you? | 10:16pm

y/n : that sounds good. i’ll send you my address, thank you | 10:23pm

you shut your laptop, refraining from relishing in this strange moment. you now have a study period tomorrow with suguru geto, you figured it wouldn’t be too bad. little did you know, suguru had the biggest crush on you. he had been eyeing you ever since you stepped through the door to your shared class. the tiny skirts you wore perfectly showed off your soft and delicate legs, always causing his mouth to water. the singular time you had spoke to him, he swore he was dreaming.. how could a pretty girl like you ever come near him?

when he received your email, he swears his heart stopped beating. was it some sort of scam or even worse, were you hacked..? he truly couldn’t believe the sight before his eyes. he felt the butterflies in his stomach as his entire body shook like a leaf in the wind while he typed up his message.

when he suggested he go over to your place, it was partially true! crowds did frighten him a bit.. though, he did love the library. truthfully, he just wanted to see you in what he calls ‘your natural form’. — god what a loser. despite everything, even if you weren’t enthusiastic about your upcoming meetup with him, suguru was sure ready for your little study date, at least that’s what he viewed it as.

the following morning came and went hastily meanwhile you prepare yourself as well as your dorm for quite the guest. you whip your head towards your clock, its 6:15pm, where is this guy..?— ding! ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ you swiftly move towards the door, taking in a shaky breath before opening your room door with a soft smile.

“hello! i thought you might’ve gotten lost.. hah..uhh come sit!” you awkwardly motion towards your desk, you pull a chair out for him before subtly staring him down. he looked surprisingly normal, his outfit was fairly casual but his hair wasn’t tied up in his usual bun. his hair looked soft as it gently caressed his facial features, were his cheeks always so toned.. god his glasses really do make his nose look deli—

“y/n..? where did you want to start?” he repeated, dragging you out of your trance. “oh! anywhere, you can lead the pace.” you reply, shooting him a soft smile out of reassurance. you both settle in and get to work, hours going by as he grills you on multiple different lessons. you lean back in your chair letting out an exasperated sigh, “can we take a break please.. i might go crazy if i don’t,” you pout, eyebrows slightly raising when you hear his smooth laugh while he agrees in amusement.

“why don’t you leave your hair like this more often hmm?” you tease, twirling a small snippet of it with your fingers. his face flushes a bright red before wrapping his fingers around your wrist, halting your movements. “oh! i’m sorry i didn’t realiz—” . . . “can i kiss you?” he replies abruptly, he has a pathetic look on his face, almost like he’s begging.

“what..?” you question, you’re frozen with wide eyes. you’re shocked to say the least, suguru wasn’t necessarily hard to look at. he had a pretty face to him, a sharp jawline, and lustful purple eyes that really drag you in. “i- you’re just so pretty! a-and i’ve never been alone with a girl like this before..” he stutters shyly, you sort of feel bad for the guy. it’s clear how much of a virgin he is, you can’t recall a time where he’s even looked in a girls direction!

“seriously.. hah- just one time okay? i’m only doing this as a ‘thank you’ alright.” he nods excitedly, staring at you with longing puppy dog eyes. you remove his glasses, setting them on the desk before cupping his face gently with both of your hands as you pull him in and give him a soft kiss. you felt his breath hitch as you both pull back slightly, he looks away quickly while using both of his hands to cover his. . . crotch?

“don’t look!” he pleads, shifting his body away from you. you’re taken aback by his sudden tone of voice as well as his humiliated body language. your eyes narrow in on him, “suguru.. are you hard?” you ask, his face is tomato red and his eyes are wide like a deer in the headlights. he quickly grabs his glasses and his book bag that’s hanging on your chair before attempting to bolt for the door. “wait!” you yelp, grabbing his arm as you try to pull him back, “i-i’ll help you, just sit back down.”

you have no idea what’s gotten into you, all you can focus on is the fact that this nerdy perv is now sitting on your bed with his pants off as you’re on your knees in front of him, staring up at him with doe eyes. his shirt is lifted and the hem is tucked into his mouth. your hands reach for the waistline on his boxers, slowly pulling them down when his cock springs out and slaps against his stomach. he’s whimpering while you stare intensely at his pretty curve and pink mushroom tip, pressing your thighs together at the pure sight of his lengthy cock.

“m’gonna touch you kay?” your lip is tucked between your teeth while he nods expectantly. you smear the pre-cum forming on his slit, a wad of spit leaving your mouth and dripping right on the head of his cock. your hand soon envelopes his tip, moving up and down in a twisting motion that causes his hips to buck.

“nngh- f-feels so good,” suguru whined, letting go the hem of his shirt as he brings a hand up to cover his lewd expressions. you bring your mouth to his cock head before pursing your lips, letting an obscene amount of spit dribble all the way down his shaft. he lets out a wet moan at the sight.

you’re planting harsh kisses down his length, licking and sucking periodically around his base. “want you to use my mouth kay? just want you t’a feel good,” you say seductively, licking your lips before you engulf his cock into your mouth, tongue flicking against his frenulum. “f-fuck! so w-warm.. nngh please!” he pleads, his heavy hand softly caressing your head as you began bobbing your head up and down on his hefty cock.

your hands firmly grip his thighs as he bucks his hips up further into your mouth causing you to gag, throat tightening around his shaft, earning an elated moan from him. “c-can i fuck your mouth p-please..?” he needly asks, eyebrows furrowed while he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. you stare up at him, batting your long eyelashes when you nod, humming around him.

he’s rutting his hips into your mouth, cock hitting the back of your throat deliciously. “y-yeah take it.. hah” he grumbles, you’re being starved for breath as spit drips all over the base of his cock, traveling down to his balls. “m’gonna cum! w-where do i—” he whines, you push his hands off and take initiative, suckling on his flushed tip while your free hand strokes the rest of his length. “o. . oh f-fuck m’cumming! d-don’t stop ah!” he pleads, his hand covering his own mouth, his eyelids fluttering as he’s cumming down your throat. you moan at the action, eyebrows furrowed as you swallow his thick fluids.

you pull off his cock, he winces at the friction before you climb on top of him, pushing him against the mattress, giving him a rough kiss. your tongue prodding against his, spit connecting your lips when you pull back. “feel good sugu?” you smirk, your smitten expressions fall when he flips the two of you over. “i- i wanna taste you, can i?” he replies, pawing at the waistband of your sweatpants in desperation.

“do you even know what you’re doing..” you question him, unsure if you really want to continue this relationship. “well n-no! not yet. . but you can teach me! i’ll be good i promise.” he’s practically begging you with pathetic heart eyes. you’re just so cute, he doesn’t know how to act anymore. “ugh.. fine just go slow ‘kay?” you whisper, hands covering your face out of embarrassment.

he’s pulling your sweats down, tossing them in the corner of the room. you’re wearing these pastel pink panties with lace on the borders, small print of roses and hearts all across the front, a small white bow in the center. suguru feels lightheaded, he could probably cum untouched if he stared long enough. he caresses your thighs, spreading them apart slowly as you feel his hot breath flowing against your clothed cunt.

his tongue escapes his mouth, licking a long stripe from the outline of your hole up to your mound. you’re letting out soft moans while he leaves sweet delicate kisses on your covered clit.

his nose pressing up against your cunt as he’s sucking and licking the fabric. “hah.. you smell so delicious, think m’gonna go crazy,” he groans, tonguing your clit through the cloth, earning loud yelps from you. “nngh! you’re so n-nasty.. ah!” you cry, your hips jerking up into his face.

he hooks his two hands into your panties before dragging them down your legs, tossing them near his sweats, hoping he’ll be able to take them home as a souvenir. “be gentle, if you go too fast it won’t feel good..” you whimper as you widen your legs, a hand coming down to spread yourself open for him to see. his mouth is beginning to water as he inches closer towards your dripping cunt.

“stop staring! j-just do it already!” you mewl, your hands coming up to cup your perky breasts. he rubs his thumb on your puffy clit, gently spitting on it before giving it a long suck. he's planting sloppy kisses all over your cunt, from your labias to your twitching hole. “so sweet mmf..” he moans into your pussy, delving back into your wet folds.

“i-inside! put a finger inside- hah..nngh!” you cry out, needing more stimulation. he slowly inserts his middle finger into your sopping wet cunt, it’s going in with such ease despite how thick his fingers are. he’s in awe at how well your pussy his swallowing him before testing the waters and squeezing in another finger.

“y-you’re so tight.. does it hurt?” he asks worried, he’s slowly thrusting his fingers inside you, the pace is almost agonizing. “no just- p-please keep going.. nngh,” you shake your head, begging him to continue as you feel yourself getting closer.

he’s putting his parched lips back onto your swollen clit, sloshing his tongue against it as he pistons his digits deep inside you. “ff-fuuuckkk.. right there suguru! m’gonna- ah!” you yawp, thighs tightening around his head while your hands grab fist fulls of his hair.

your cunt is dripping your slick all over his face and he’s gulping up every last drop. he’s humming little ‘mhm’ s as you ride out your orgasm on his broad nose. he pulls his thick fingers out of you , you stare down at his disheveled face. his glasses are crooked, hair a complete mess with your juices covering his face.

you sit up, crawling towards him, latching your hands onto his shoulders and kissing his fucked out lips harshly. “want you so bad.., can i? please sugu..” now you’re the one pouting and begging him for more. of course he’s nodding in agreement, he could never turn down a pretty little thing like you especially when you’re pleading for his cock.

you’re pushing him against the bed, plump thighs straddling his hips. “lemme make you feel good sugu- hah,” you whine, stroking his heavy cock before lining him up with your warm entrance, sinking yourself down on him.

his hands find your hips, grabbing onto them for dear life as your pretty pussy sucks him in. “s-slow please, you feel so good mnngh!” he moans, your hips rocking into his viciously. your pace is already so deadly for him, a virgin former virgin at that. “fuckk y/n p-please! i can’t- shiiiit. . s-so good mmf!” he babbles before being silenced by your dainty palm.

“f-fuck..just shut up- nngh!” you mewl, one hand silencing him while the other digs into his chest. his eyebrows are furrowed, eyes rolling to the back of his head as your sweet cunt milks him.

you’re letting out lewd moans meanwhile the melodious sound of skin slapping fills the room. your feet rest on top of his thighs, you’re bouncing up and down as your creamy pussy swallows his curvy cock justtt right.

your tired body leans flush to his chest, slowly grinding your hips together before you remove your hand from his mouth and landing a sloppy kiss to his lips. your tongues swirling together in unison, “wanna cum p-please y/n, wan’ it so bad nngh,” he cries, drawing a giggle out of you. how pathetic.

“yeah? c’mon give it to me big boy, want it all inside- hah..” you reply, biting your lip. he’s got his arms wrapped around your waist while he bucks his hips up into you, slick balls slapping against your ass. “ah! m’gonna cum sugu, r-right there!” you moan into the crook of his neck, leaving kisses behind his ear.

you finally gush all over him, your juices spraying all over his lower abdomen. “f-fuck you’re so tightt! m’cumming- hah.. mmf!” suguru rambles, his reddened tip releases thick white spurts into you as he pounds into your cervix. he’s cumming so hard he swears he’s seeing stars, only thing bringing him back down was your soft pleas for a kiss.

“kiss me suguru, p-please mmh,” you kiss him passionately, tongue moving its way throughout his mouth as you both grip onto each other, hungry for one another. you let go of him, caressing his pretty face before pulling apart to flop your body over next to him as you both struggle to catch your breath. you are sitting in comfortable silence until. .

“y/n? does this mean we’re boyfriend and girlfriend now?” he asks innocently, turning towards you, his thumb caressing your cheek.

you sigh, glueing your eyes shut. what a fuckin’ nerd

likes and reblogs are always appreciated! i might write little drabbles bout this duo in the future ^.^ their story definitely isn’t over.

[gyorouis]

── ✦ the boy next door.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚 ˚⋆ synopsis⸝⸝ the guy next door, he seems cute. and oh, he has a dog.

꒰ genre⸝⸝ fluff!! FLUFF, angst if you squint, but anyway lovey-dovey bcs soobin is so boyfriend and i miss soobin sm pairing⸝⸝ boy next door!soobin x afab!reader wc⸝⸝ 5.3k warning⸝⸝ none (lmk if i forgot any!) tune in⸝⸝ sixspence none the richer — kiss me ୨ৎ ꒱

you’ve been living in this apartment complex for what feels like forever now, or at least long enough to memorize the creaky spots in the hallway and which neighbors prefer late-night TV at full volume. it’s not that you're shy, but you’ve never been great at the whole “friendly neighbor” thing either. while others seem to naturally strike up conversations about the weather or the latest neighborhood gossip, you’re more of a smile-and-nod kind of person. friendly enough, but not exactly handing out invitations for coffee.

every morning, you take your usual jog around the complex. it’s become a routine, something to clear your mind before another long day of work. you pass by mrs. kim from the third floor, who always seems to be engaged in an animated conversation with mr. park from the second floor. they wave at you, and you offer a polite nod in return, as always. everyone here seems to know each other, chatting away as if they’ve lived in this building their entire lives.

you? not so much. you’ve always found socializing a bit… draining. especially since your job involves talking to people all day long. by the time you get home, the last thing you want is to have yet another conversation.

it’s a sunday morning, and instead of your usual jog, you’re busy cleaning your apartment. your balcony door is open, letting in the fresh air as you sweep the floor. as you pause to stretch, you notice a moving truck pulling up outside. new tenants, you think to yourself. the unit next to yours has been empty for about a month, ever since the previous owner moved out. you glance down at the truck, spotting a few movers carrying boxes and furniture into the building.

“well, good luck,” you mumble to yourself, knowing how thin the walls can be.

you continue with your cleaning, pushing the thought of the new tenant aside. after all, it’s not like you’re going to be inviting them over for tea anytime soon.

in the days following, you caught glimpses of the new tenant, though never quite enough to get a clear picture of them. once, while heading out for your morning jog, you heard the door to the next unit creak open just as you were locking your own. instinctively, you turned your head, but by the time you glanced down the hallway, the door had already closed. you could hear faint footsteps receding, but whoever they were, they were gone before you even had the chance to see them.

it became a pattern—just when you thought you might catch a glimpse of this mystery neighbor, something would intervene. you’d hear a door slam shut just as you were about to turn the corner. you’d see shadows under the door when you were in the hallway, but no one ever stepped out. it was like the universe was conspiring to keep you from meeting them.

you told yourself it didn’t matter. after all, you weren’t the type to strike up a conversation with strangers anyway. still, you couldn’t help the growing curiosity. who was this person? what kind of neighbor were they? and, more importantly, why did it feel like they were always just out of reach?

one particularly frustrating moment happened when you were in the mailroom, sorting through the usual stack of bills and junk mail. out of the corner of your eye, you saw someone approach the door, a tall figure with dark hair. for a split second, you thought this might finally be the moment you’d meet your elusive neighbor. but just as the door began to swing open, your phone rang loudly in your pocket, startling you enough that you dropped your mail all over the floor.

by the time you scrambled to pick it up, the person was gone. the door clicked shut, leaving you alone in the mailroom once again.

“seriously?” you muttered under your breath, shoving the crumpled letters back into your bag. it was becoming a running joke in your head now—the universe seemed determined to keep the two of you apart.

later that week, you were returning from work, exhausted after a particularly draining day of meetings and presentations. your only goal was to collapse onto your couch and binge-watch something mindless. as you stepped off the elevator, you saw a large package leaning against the door to the unit next to yours. it was addressed to a “choi soobin,” which you assumed was your new neighbor. your curiosity spiked again. soobin—the name didn’t ring any bells, but it didn’t matter. you’d probably never get the chance to talk to them anyway.

as you fumbled with your keys at your own door, you heard something—a faint shuffling from inside the next unit. you paused, glancing sideways at the door. was this finally your moment? you listened closely, heart pounding a little for reasons you couldn’t explain. but, like every other time before, nothing happened. no door opened, no introductions were made.

you sighed and went inside, trying to shake off the strange sense of disappointment.

then, that evening, something broke the quiet routine.

you were sprawled on the couch, remote in hand, flipping through channels without much interest when a sound made you sit up. it was faint at first—a soft barking, coming from the apartment next door. your eyes darted toward the wall, as if you could somehow see through it. a dog? you hadn’t heard a single sound from that unit since the mysterious soobin had moved in. now, all of a sudden, there was a dog?

“must be the new neighbor,” you muttered to yourself, sinking back into the cushions.

the barking stopped, and you assumed that was the end of it. but then, barely a minute later, there was a knock at your door. you blinked, glancing at the clock. it was late—who could be knocking at this hour?

you dragged yourself off the couch, padding over to the door and pulling it open. standing there, looking slightly frazzled, was a guy. he had dark hair, a hoodie pulled over his head, and in one hand, he held a leash attached to an overly excited golden retriever that was wagging its tail so fast it was practically vibrating.

“uh, hi,” he said, offering a sheepish smile. “sorry to bother you, but i’m your new neighbor. i think my dog’s ball ended up on your balcony. mind if i grab it?”

you blinked, momentarily thrown off by the sight of him. soobin, you realized, putting the pieces together. this was the elusive neighbor who had been slipping in and out of your life for the past week. and now, here he was, standing at your door with an overexcited dog.

“oh,” you said, snapping out of your daze. “yeah, sure. give me a second.”

you stepped out onto your balcony and quickly spotted the bright yellow ball wedged against the railing. as you bent down to pick it up, you heard soobin talking to his dog in a low voice.

“buddy, sit. come on, man, be cool for like five seconds.”

you couldn’t help but stifle a laugh as you walked back inside, holding the ball out to him. “here you go.”

soobin beamed, taking the ball from you. “thanks. i’m soobin, by the way. and this troublemaker is buddy.”

buddy barked in response, his tail wagging even faster—if that was possible.

“i’m y/n,” you replied, offering a small smile. “welcome to the building.”

soobin shifted awkwardly, as if unsure whether to continue the conversation or let you return to your evening. “uh, thanks. sorry again for the interruption. we’re still getting used to the place, and buddy here is still adjusting.”

“no problem,” you said, your voice soft. despite the late hour and the unexpected visit, you found yourself oddly relaxed in his presence. there was something about his easy-going nature, the way he seemed just as out of place as you often felt.

“well, i should let you get back to your night,” he said, giving buddy’s leash a gentle tug. “thanks again for the ball.”

“anytime,” you replied, watching as he headed back down the hallway, buddy bouncing along beside him.

as you closed the door, a small smile crept onto your face. you hadn’t understood the strange anticipation you’d felt before meeting your new neighbor, but after this little incident, you were starting to get an idea why.

as you leaned back against the door, you found yourself replaying the brief interaction in your head. soobin seemed... different. maybe it was the casual way he introduced himself or the way he was clearly flustered by his dog’s antics, but something about him had left an impression on you. you tried to brush it off—after all, it was just a simple neighborly encounter. nothing more.

you sank back onto the couch, but the quiet of your apartment felt louder now, like the presence of the new neighbor had shifted something in the air. you absentmindedly reached for the remote but hesitated before pressing play. instead, your mind wandered back to soobin’s awkward grin, the way buddy’s tail wagged enthusiastically, and the light laughter that almost escaped your lips as soobin tried to calm the excitable dog.

“why am i thinking about this?” you muttered, shaking your head with a smirk.

over the next few days, it seemed like fate kept you and soobin on the verge of crossing paths, only for something to always get in the way. every time you left for your morning jog, you'd hear his apartment door creak open as if he was leaving too. but by the time you reached the bottom of the stairs, there’d be no sign of him or buddy. you’d glance back, wondering if maybe you'd imagined hearing it. or when you returned home in the evening, you'd see buddy’s leash hanging on the door handle, a clear sign they were out for a walk, yet you'd just missed them.

it was like the universe was toying with the idea of introducing you both properly, but not quite ready to make it happen. part of you found it amusing—the almost-encounters, the little signs of his presence—but another part of you grew more curious with each near-miss.

one evening, as you sat on your balcony with a cup of tea, a cool breeze ruffling the pages of the book you weren’t really reading, you heard it again—the faint sound of a dog barking next door. instinctively, you leaned over the railing, trying to catch a glimpse of what was happening. and there he was, standing on his own balcony with buddy at his feet, looking up at the sky like he was deep in thought.

for a moment, you considered saying something, maybe making a casual comment about the weather or how quiet the building usually was. but just as you opened your mouth, buddy let out an excited bark, causing soobin to laugh and look down at his dog.

“not now, buddy, i'm trying to enjoy the sunset,” he chuckled, giving the golden retriever a playful pat on the head.

you quickly leaned back before he could notice you watching, heart racing a little too fast for your liking. why did it feel like you were in high school again, trying to avoid being caught staring at the cute guy in class?

the next day, you were in the hallway, heading out for work, when you heard hurried footsteps behind you. you turned just in time to see soobin, earbuds in, walking briskly with buddy trotting beside him. for a second, you both locked eyes, and soobin gave you a quick wave, almost stumbling over buddy’s leash in the process.

“oh—uh, hey!” he called out, a little breathless as he caught up to you. “sorry, i didn’t see you there.”

you smiled, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “no worries. looks like you two are in a hurry.”

he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “yeah, we’re running late for our morning walk. buddy takes it very seriously.” buddy barked as if agreeing, his tail wagging eagerly.

“i’ve noticed,” you replied with a small laugh. “he seems like quite the handful.”

“you have no idea,” soobin said, shaking his head with a grin. “it’s like living with a toddler.”

there was a brief pause, just long enough for the moment to stretch into something a little more comfortable, a little more familiar. you weren’t sure what it was, but the awkwardness from your first meeting had melted away, replaced by something easier, like you’d known each other longer than a few days.

“well, i’ll let you get to work before i make us both late,” soobin said, glancing at his watch before giving you a quick nod. “but, uh, maybe we’ll bump into each other more often.”

“maybe,” you replied, trying to ignore the way your heart fluttered at his words. “have a good walk.”

as you walked away, you couldn’t help but smile, the warmth of his casual words lingering in your mind. sure, it had been brief, but something told you that this wasn’t the last time you’d be talking to soobin.

the next few weeks passed with more casual interactions, little moments that didn’t feel like much on the surface but somehow started to carve a space for soobin in your routine. the mysterious air surrounding him had slowly faded away, revealing a guy who was surprisingly easy to talk to—at least, when your paths finally crossed.

like that time in the elevator, when you both happened to be leaving the building at the same time. you’d awkwardly shuffled inside, glancing at the buttons only to realize you were both heading to the ground floor. soobin had offered a lopsided smile as buddy sat obediently at his side, his tail thumping against the floor of the small space.

“morning,” he greeted, rubbing his eyes sleepily, the hoodie he wore wrinkled like he’d just rolled out of bed.

“morning,” you replied, chuckling lightly at his tired expression. “late night?”

“buddy doesn’t understand the concept of sleep,” he said, laughing softly. “he decided at 2 a.m. that the middle of the night was the perfect time to chase his tail.”

you smiled, leaning against the cool wall of the elevator. “sounds exhausting.”

“you have no idea,” he groaned, glancing down at buddy. “but i wouldn’t trade him for anything. what about you? late night or early start?”

“early start,” you replied. “work keeps me on a pretty tight schedule.”

“right, you mentioned that you’re always busy,” soobin said thoughtfully, as if he was genuinely interested. “what do you do again?”

you hesitated for a second, not because you didn’t want to tell him, but because explaining your job always felt like you were opening a door to questions you weren’t sure you had the energy to answer. “i work in marketing. lots of meetings, lots of socializing.”

“sounds... exhausting,” he echoed your earlier comment, giving you a knowing grin. “no wonder you don’t join the neighborhood chat.”

you let out a soft laugh. “yeah, i’m not great at small talk.”

“same,” he said with a shrug. “i mean, i like people, but there’s something about forced conversation that makes my brain just... shut down.”

the elevator doors slid open, and you both stepped out, walking side by side toward the entrance. buddy trotted ahead, sniffing everything in his path.

“i get that,” you said. “there’s always this pressure to say the right thing, to fill every silence.”

“exactly!” soobin said, his eyes lighting up. “but sometimes, silence is comfortable, you know? like right now, we’re not talking every second, but it doesn’t feel awkward.”

you blinked at his words, realizing he was right. the quiet that settled between you wasn’t heavy or uncomfortable—it was easy, like you didn’t have to force anything. it felt... natural.

“yeah,” you agreed, glancing over at him. “it’s nice.”

he smiled, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something in the air, something you couldn’t quite place but also couldn’t ignore. but before you could dwell on it, buddy barked, pulling soobin’s attention back to his overexcited dog.

“looks like someone’s ready for his walk,” soobin said with a chuckle. “i’ll see you around?”

“definitely,” you said, waving as you headed in opposite directions.

and so it continued—a series of brief moments. sometimes it was in the hallway, when you both reached for your mailboxes at the same time. other times, it was in the parking lot, when buddy would tug soobin’s arm just as you were pulling out of your spot, prompting an exaggerated apology from soobin and a wave from you, which had gradually turned into shared grins over time.

but despite the ease of these small interactions, there was still a slow, steady burn building between the two of you. neither of you rushed it—there was no sudden moment of revelation, no dramatic confession. instead, it was the little things that started to draw you closer.

like the day you came home late from work, exhausted and hungry, only to find that your fridge was depressingly empty. you were about to resign yourself to a bowl of instant ramen when a knock came at your door. when you opened it, there was soobin, holding a takeout bag in one hand and a sheepish grin on his face.

“i ordered way too much food,” he said, looking down at the containers like they’d betrayed him. “and buddy is refusing to eat anything that doesn’t come from his dog bowl, so... thought i’d see if you wanted some?”

you blinked, staring at the food and then back at him. “you’re offering me leftovers?”

he scratched the back of his neck, looking a little embarrassed. “well, when you put it like that...”

you laughed, stepping aside to let him in. “i’m kidding. i was actually about to have instant ramen, so this is a serious upgrade.”

“wow, really? i guess my timing is perfect,” he said, setting the food on your kitchen counter. buddy bounded in after him, sniffing around curiously before settling by soobin’s feet.

the two of you sat down to eat, and conversation flowed naturally. soobin told you about his work—he was a freelance artist, which explained his flexible hours and the occasional paint smudges on his hands. you talked about your own job, surprised at how easy it was to open up to him. the hours slipped by, the conversation shifting from work to hobbies to random stories about your lives.

“you know,” soobin said at one point, pushing his empty plate aside, “i’m glad we finally hung out like this. i always see you around, but i didn’t want to be that weird neighbor who tries too hard.”

you laughed, shaking your head. “i think you’re safe. besides, if anyone’s weird, it’s me. i’ve been here for ages and haven’t made a single friend.”

he raised an eyebrow. “well, you’ve got one now.”

you looked at him, and there was something in the warmth of his gaze that made your heart skip a beat. “yeah,” you said softly. “i guess i do.”

over time, the encounters became more intentional. you’d text each other when you were free, ever since he asked for your number during one night that was actually a terrible way of asking someone for their digits. he’d tripped over his own feet while trying to make a quick exit from your apartment, and as he stumbled, he blurted out, “hey, can I get your number? for dog emergencies!”

you couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. “dog emergencies?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“you know, buddy might need a playdate or... or a treat,” he fumbled, his cheeks turning slightly pink. “or if i accidentally steal your trash...”

“okay, that sounds like a solid reason,” you replied, trying to suppress your grin as you wrote down your number on a sticky note and handed it to him. “but it’s not like he’s going to call me.”

“you never know!” soobin joked, glancing at the note before slipping it into his pocket with a satisfied grin.

the days that followed were filled with little surprises. you’d receive random texts from him, often accompanied by pictures of buddy in various ridiculous poses—like the time he’d managed to get his head stuck in a cereal box, or when he was sprawled out on the floor, tongue out, looking utterly defeated after a long walk. each message came with a lighthearted caption that made you chuckle.

“buddy found the ultimate hiding spot. no one will ever find him!” one message read, the accompanying picture showing the golden retriever wedged between the couch and the wall, his big brown eyes peeking out like he was plotting a secret escape.

you found yourself looking forward to these texts, each one brightening your day a little more than the last. sometimes you’d respond with your own pictures—like a candid shot of you attempting to bake cookies (which ended with a flour explosion in your kitchen) or a video of your cat giving you the cold shoulder after you accidentally stepped on his tail.

then there were the instagram reels. soobin would send you random clips that were almost always about dog humor—like the one of a dog desperately trying to catch its tail but only succeeding in tripping over itself. “this is buddy every morning,” he captioned, and you couldn’t help but laugh as you imagined his dog bouncing around in a similar fashion.

“what’s with all the dog content?” you texted back one afternoon, grinning at your phone screen.

“dogs are life,” he replied instantly. “and buddy is basically my child. wouldn’t you want to see every moment of his existence?”

“fair point,” you typed back, shaking your head at how seriously he took his role as a dog dad. “just don’t expect me to babysit anytime soon.”

“how about we do a double date?” he proposed jokingly. “you, me, and buddy? i’ll provide the treats, you bring the toys.”

“sounds like a plan,” you responded, a small thrill coursing through you at the thought. “but if buddy eats my favorite toy, we’re going to have a problem.”

the banter continued, each conversation layered with a comfortable rhythm that felt natural. there was something about the way he interacted with you that made it easy to let your guard down. and in those moments, you found yourself looking forward to the next time you’d see him—no longer just as the mysterious neighbor but as someone who was becoming an integral part of your life.

the following weekend, you both decided to meet for coffee at a local café. it was your first official hangout outside the confines of your apartment, and excitement bubbled in your chest as you walked into the shop. the aroma of freshly brewed coffee enveloped you, and you scanned the room for soobin.

he was already there, perched at a small table in the corner, a steaming cup in front of him and buddy lying at his feet, looking adorably patient. as soon as he saw you, he waved enthusiastically, his smile brightening the cozy atmosphere.

“hey! over here!” he called, standing up as you approached. “i hope you like this place. buddy does, which is basically my criteria for any establishment.”

you chuckled as you took a seat across from him. “so, what does buddy think? is this place up to snuff?”

“he’s giving it a solid four paws,” he replied, glancing down at buddy, who was wagging his tail, clearly enjoying the vibe of the café. “though he’s more interested in the snacks they give out than the coffee.”

“priorities,” you said, laughing as you imagined buddy’s enthusiasm. “i can relate.”

the conversation flowed effortlessly as you sipped your drinks, discussing everything from your favorite books to the best dog parks in the city. soobin shared stories about buddy’s antics, and you found yourself hanging onto every word, amused by the way he animatedly described each little adventure.

“one time, he decided he wanted to chase a squirrel,” soobin said, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “and in his eagerness, he leaped right into a fountain! it was like something out of a cartoon—he came out soaked and just sat there, looking utterly betrayed.”

you burst into laughter, picturing the scene. “did he recover? i can’t imagine he’d take that lightly.”

“he was fine, but he gave me the dirtiest look afterward,” soobin said, mimicking buddy’s disgruntled expression, which only made you laugh harder.

as you both shared stories and laughter, the connection between you deepened. it was a slow burn, building gradually, like the gentle warmth of a fire that had just begun to flicker to life. you found yourself stealing glances at soobin, his smile infectious, his passion for his dog evident in every word. and when your eyes met, there was a spark—something unspoken yet palpable that lingered in the air.

by the time you finished your coffees, you felt a sense of ease, as if you’d known him for much longer than just a few weeks. the way he looked at you, his eyes twinkling with warmth and sincerity, made your heart flutter in a way you hadn’t expected.

“we should do this more often,” soobin said, packing up his things as buddy nuzzled his leg, eager to get moving.

“definitely,” you agreed, feeling a grin spread across your face. “i’ll bring the treats next time.”

“and i’ll bring the chaos,” he promised, a playful glint in his eyes.

you both stood to leave, and as you walked side by side, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning.

one morning, with the scent of freshly baked cookies wafting through your apartment, you felt a rush of excitement. you’d decided to surprise soobin with a batch of chocolate chip cookies and some homemade dog treats for buddy. you could picture the delighted look on his face, the way his eyes would light up when he tasted your baking.

clutching the container tightly, you made your way to his door, heart racing at the thought of sharing something so personal. but as you lifted your hand to knock, the door swung open unexpectedly.

standing there was a woman you didn’t recognize. she had a bright smile and an air of casual confidence as she walked right past you without so much as a word. confusion flitted through your mind as you watched her, but then your gaze shifted to soobin, who stood in the doorway looking equally surprised to see you.

“oh, hey! i didn’t expect you this morning,” he said, his tone cheerful but slightly bewildered.

you felt heat rush to your cheeks, embarrassment flooding over you as you awkwardly held out the container. “i, uh, brought you some cookies and treats for buddy,” you stammered, trying to keep your voice steady.

before he could respond, the woman walked back through the doorway, completely ignoring the interaction. your heart sank as realization hit you. the closeness of their familiarity sent a pang of insecurity through you. were they together? the thought made you feel nauseous.

“oh, um, i should go,” you muttered, the words escaping your lips before you could process them. you turned on your heel and hurried back to your unit, locking the door behind you as if that would shield you from the embarrassment.

for days afterward, you tried to avoid soobin. you found yourself deliberately taking a longer route to the elevator to avoid running into him in the hall. it was ridiculous, really; how could you be catching feelings for a guy who might already have a girlfriend? you felt grossed out by yourself, convinced that your infatuation was misguided.

despite your efforts to create distance, the texts kept coming. soobin sent you updates about buddy, silly memes, and cute dog reels that made you smile despite yourself. but with every message, your heart ached, and you felt more confused.

one afternoon, as you sat on your couch, scrolling aimlessly through your phone, you felt a mix of confusion and longing. soobin’s texts had become a lifeline, his silly memes and dog videos bringing unexpected joy amid your self-imposed isolation. but every time your phone buzzed with a message from him, a pang of guilt twisted in your stomach, reminding you of the distance you were trying to maintain.

when you heard a knock at your door, your heart raced. you knew it was soobin, and the thought of facing him made you want to disappear. after a moment of hesitation, you reluctantly opened the door, finding him standing there, his brow furrowed in concern.

“hey, can we talk?” he asked, his voice soft yet urgent. “i’ve noticed you’ve been... avoiding me. did i do something wrong?”

the sincerity in his eyes sent your heart racing, but the weight of your feelings and the embarrassment of the situation crashed over you. you hesitated, caught between wanting to explain and the fear of being vulnerable. before you could stop yourself, your tongue slipped. “i can't keep talking to you; you have a girlfriend, that's just weird,” you blurted out, the words tumbling out with a mix of frustration and mortification.

soobin’s expression shifted from confusion to surprise, his brows furrowing deeper. “what? no, i don’t have a girlfriend,” he replied, his voice steady but laced with disbelief.

“but—” you stammered, flustered. “i saw a girl come out of your apartment the other day. she seemed... close to you.”

“that was my sister!” he exclaimed, running a hand through his hair. “she just moved in for the summer. we were just hanging out.”

the realization hit you like a wave, crashing against the dam of your confusion. “oh,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. “i... didn’t know.”

you both stood there for a moment, the air thick with unspoken feelings and awkwardness, before it cracked, and you burst into laughter at the absurdity of the situation. it felt like a weight had lifted off your shoulders.

“so what now?” you asked, recovering from the laugh, your heart racing as you met his gaze.

he smiled, the warmth in his eyes making your stomach flutter. without breaking eye contact, he reached out and gently grabbed your pinky with his big hand. you raised your eyebrows, intrigued. “are we on the same page?” he asked, his voice low and inviting.

you felt your cheeks heat up as you whispered, “i think so...”

his smile grew bigger, a mix of relief and excitement, and he fully enveloped your small hand with his larger one, sending butterflies racing through your chest.

“where are you taking me?” you asked, following him as he started to pull you out of your unit, excitement bubbling within you.

“i’m going to introduce you to my sister,” he said, a teasing look dancing in his eyes.

“soobin!” you exclaimed, playfully hitting his arm, laughter spilling out. the warmth of your connection felt electric, each shared laugh building a bridge between you that you never knew was missing in your life.

gyo's note: OMG YES boy next door soobin alsjdhsdhsh, i’m changing the posting schedule to every friday (bcs i have a vv shitty schedule for mg rle and lecture and HOPEFULLY i could finish alumni homecoming kai asap (yes pray for my writer's blocked braincells) if you made it to this part, thank you so much! you will be loved. xoxo!

✮ 2024 gyozies, all rights reserved.

[jelly-an0n]

Firsts

Clark Kent x Reader

Requested by @witherby

Tonight was supposed to be perfect.

At least- Clark had planned for it all to maybe be perfect-

Today was meant to mark your six month anniversary, and tonight he was hoping to make it special. He had planned an entire dinner, using the spare key to go into your apartment- with permission to come over of course- to set it all up.

Clark had made dinner- using a recipe you had mentioned loving but hadn't had time to cook- set the table and everything. But now he was starting to doubt himself, second guessing himself every second the watched go by on the clock you had.

You were meant to be home an hour ago, and you hadn't sent any form of message to say you were running behind or staying at work, nothing. Clark checked his phone again, seeing the messages he had sent over the pass hour still marked as unread.

Worry was creeping up quickly within him, but he done his best to keep a clear head. You ran late sometimes, it happens. he still remembers your first date when you had come running in fifteen minutes late- drenched to the bone and spewing apologies, nearly in tears at being so late.

Turns out work held you back, then it had started to rain- not a good sign when but you had your car. At least, you did until you popped a tire and didn't have a spare.

That night, everything that could go wrong on the way to where you were meant to meet up with Clark, did go wrong.

But Clark had only smiled at you and offered you a jacket, telling you it could be postponed so you could go home and get changed, he didn't want you getting sick after all.

That date went from a night out to a night in- getting food to go before returning to yours, where you both curled up watching crappy reality TV.

So Clark knew that, sometimes, life gets in the way.

Before he could further worry about your well-being, he heard the tell-tale signs of you approaching your door, and he stumbles to stand behind his chair- only to blink as the front door swung open.

In your arms were two cats who blinked back at Clark, and it took him a few moments to zone back in to hear you explain why you were so late as the door swings shut.

"-ally so sorry Clark- I was planning on coming straight here after work but my phone died and Jess needed those extra reports- and on the way home I saw these sweethearts begging for scraps and had to yell at some sleaze for trying to kick the ginger one and-" Your rant comes to a halt as you finally take in the dinning room table- set with candles, wine, and the meal you had been wanting for weeks now.

Any words you had were stolen from you as you look back up to Clark, only to see him staring at you with the same awed expression, just for a completely different reason.

For Clark, he was just awed at how kind and genuine you were, at how much love you had for the world and how much he loves you.

And as soon as the words he had spent weeks questioning if he should say enter his mind, the reason he spent so long on this dinner, he can't help but let them gracefully slip from his mouth, said with the same type of care one would have for handling fine china.

"I love you."

[weepingtalecowboy]

Legend has the bun instincts (that isn’t good)

@livmightlive (sorry but this didn’t fit in the comment lol )

Fanfic prompt: I love the idea of legend and twilight having instincts from their animal forms

The dark form is a literal representation of the person where the twilight curse just happened to make link a wolf because of the triforce and not a spirit as it did with the npcs

But I couldn’t help myself because it made me think just how bad can their instincts get

I think it is mostly just the symbolism of a cannibalistic rabbit

The rabbit is often seen as a symbol of innocence and people find them cute and consider them tiny lil fluffs

But rabbits are genuinely nasty pieces of shit and well known for cannibalism and mutilating each other (eating each other’s kits ,chopping off dicks , or ripping off ears, a rabbit paw has completely different meaning in this one)

And I just want to say… a rabbit is a very dangerous and very scary animal if it was a person with the skills of one)

If we talk instincts it would be more realistic if legend was a crazy violence driven maniac because rabbits instinctively want to hurt each other

As they are very territorial the rabbit will often be aggressive towards the rest of the fluffle (and he is a hylian, so what does it mean for the chain)

(it is an evolutionary trait that presumably evolved because rabbits compete for food often and the aggressive behavior would make the competition more likely to perish)

Rabbit teeth can easily bite off fingers and rip out chunks of meat from your body as they are very sharp in one place like scissors

A stressed rabbit is a danger (and legend is always stressed so there is that) as it increases their chances of survival

Further more canonically legend murdered at least ten of his uncle’s friends (the boss fights are mandatory you need the items)

And probably at least a dozen knights (I once killed over 348 because they keep respawning and I was actively hunting those lil guys)

All of them who were sons and relatives, fathers and loved by someone

While it was a fight for survival he knew they all were just innocent men trying to protect the kingdom being simply cursed not in control of their actions

But as it came to his or their life he choose himself above all others (like the rabbit he is)

Even people he knew since he was little he killed when they posed a threat

If we use blind it gets even scarier because blind is a boss that takes the appearance of the one you love the most

Yet link killed his uncle's appearance while it begged and pleaded that he would stop (that fight in four sword palace is mental)

He killed the owner of the four sword afterwards as well

His wish was to undo the damage that ganon caused …,

But would that wish include the men dead by his hand ?

Or do hundreds of men stayed dead by his hands

I like to think that legend doesn’t regret his own continued existence

Perhaps if he could have the chance to redo his actions he would do so again if necessary

Legend the type of guy who you want to keep fed or risk getting cannibalized (the only and last time that the chain made that mistake)

When he was teasing wars the knight should have been glad that legend wasn’t Pulling out a fucking gun (which he canonically has since the oracle adventures)

Even if it ain’t personal it’s just survival instinct

[hypnonerd1095]

To add to this, let me add a personal story. It's been long enough now that it should be fine. I don't remember the names of anyone involved anymore anyway so it shouldn't reveal any identities.

Pretty early on in my hypnokink exploration I was in a hypnokink chatroom where someone came to the group seeking help with exactly the kind of issue mentioned here. This was... 13 years ago? 14 maybe? I'm not sure exactly.

They'd been through a lot of brainwashing and conditioning and this enabled their partner to be increasingly abusive towards them. Now hypnosis isn't pure mind control, but when combined with emotional manipulation, physical abuse/threats, and financial dependence? It was BAD

She eventually managed to run away and find a safe place, then came to us for help deprogramming her because she felt a strong urge to return to him despite everything. And an intense sense of guilt for trying to escape her master, courtesy of conditioning.

It was scary to see. I was still a teenager at the time, I'd only just started learning to perform hypnosis myself. I'd tagged along into the side-chat room to try and learn more. And that experience stayed with me. I saw the absolute worst that hypnosis can do to someone, not by itself, but it was hypnosis that helped establish their relationship, and hypnosis that helped it get as bad as it did.

We helped her, but it wasn't easy. And it wasn't quick. That night alone was hours of hypnosis and suggestions to start undoing the damage. By the end, she was at least no longer tempted to give herself up. But fully helping her recover? That took a lot longer than one night. I wasn't there for every session, I was still too inexperienced to do all that much to contribute. I did what I could when nobody more qualified was around. Mostly just reinforcing what the others did.

As far as I know, everything did eventually work out. But this experience has stuck with me ever since. I harp on hypnosis safety a lot, I reblog educational posts and I actively advocate for consent and healthy boundaries

I know it's easy to dismiss these warnings. "It's just kink" or "it's just play" isn't an unreasonable impression to get, especially if you're not the super suggestible type. Like me, I've never been so deeply entranced that I couldn't easily reassert control and protect myself. But I've met plenty of people who need specific hypnotic programming to have that same ability because they go way deeper and don't have that same awareness.

But trance is an actual psychological state. Hypnosis has actual techniques to induce trance. And trance can be used to cause actual effects on someone? It's powerful enough that they sometimes use it as a painkiller for childbirth or dentistry!

We use hypnosis for kinky fun, and that's great! And I'm not trying to scare anyone by saying it's actually this super scary thing. Used responsibly, it's perfectly safe! But that's the key, you need to be responsible with it.

So please, make sure you're educated on how to be safe with hypnosis. Both as a subject and a tist. Avoid bad actors when they're revealed, establish firm boundaries, check the contents of files before you use them if you're susceptible.

And for the love of god, if you're going to enter a long-term hypnotic brainwashing dynamic with someone irl (or online too of course, but ESPECIALLY irl)? VET THEM THOROUGHLY. They might not be able to control you like it's some kind of movie mind control, but they can do some serious damage. Make sure you trust the person absolutely before putting yourself in that position.

Take the steps you need to ensure that our kink play always remains as just play and nothing more.

How dangerous is hypno kink really?

The problem with trying to classify how dangerous hypno play is that different types of hypno play have different risk profiles.

Hypnotising your partner casually for relaxation or party tricks is absolutely very low-risk. This is why I often advertise hypnokink as easy to learn and fun in the bedroom. Tricks like this are easily learned in one workshop and it just opens up so many kinky possibilities.

Intense hypnotic roleplay scenes and edgy sadomasochistic scenes are about as dangerous as shibari and impact play, as in the bottom will need aftercare because they may not be able to care for themselves for a while. The top might need aftercare too btw, I know I've certainly had my moments. Play like this might lead to trauma, despite everyone's best intentions. Now you all know I believe in RACK. I'm not going to say you shouldn't do it. I'm telling you that if you want to do this, you should figure out the risks and the precautions you could take to mitigate those risks. Inform yourself.

Now… Conditioning and brainwashing play, including but not limited to personality play, addiction play and/or online files, can be life-destabilisingly dangerous. Absolutely high risk! And unfortunately, this danger is freely available online with no one to provide a safety net or aftercare. It's hard to tell the "harmless" online files apart from the ones that could fuck you over, especially as a beginner. It's hard to tell the friendly online hypnotists apart from the culty abusive doms that could fuck you over. And it's hard to find help when you've become the victim of one.

If you didn't know, now you know.

[1-800-local-slut]

Girl I would kill for more stilesx black reader smut!!

Thinking about...

Stiles, who gets horny when he's stressed. He's tired and thinking about practice tomorrow and considering skipping school but he knows he has too many absences and is one week away from repeating junior year. It's 2:30 in the morning, he just crawled through his bedroom window and flopped onto bed when he remembered the homework that was worth 60 points of his grade.

So, he drinks some coffee and prepares for an all nighter. He's studying, scrolling through pages of his online textbook, and all the pressure is mounting on his shoulders. Even Stiles has a breaking point for math.

During a spontaneous break, Stiles takes a scroll through Instagram. One thing leads to another, and he's clicking through your story, then through your highlights. His fingers automatically go to the highlight he's spent a gross amount of time looking at, your summer highlight

He's getting hard, staring at your tits in the swimsuit he helped you pick out at the mall, and imagining what it would look like slipping you out of that swimsuit top. Or maybe keeping it on.

One more thing leads to another and now his hand is down his pants. Oops!

He's now a red, pathetic mess. He's rubbing his thumb over the tip and sending shivers through his entire body, his eyes hyper focused on the image he has saved on his computer of you two posing where just enough of your cleavage was visible and he could see a bit more of one of your boobs than the other. The outline of your hips, and he's imagining what in between your thighs look like. Ultimately it would be as beautiful as the rest of you but still!

He promised himself he wouldn't do this again. How gross could he get? Jerking off, literally humping his hand from overstimulation while zooming in on the part of Scott's story where you were laying down on your stomach in the back, and Stile's had a dream like view of your perfect ass covered by your tights. He promised himself yesterday that he would stop jerking off to one of his best friends, but he truly couldn't help it!

He's stressed like all the time, and for some reason his brain always turns stress into the urge to hump something. His mattress in his sleep, his hand, you. Oh god, the urge to rub up on you was strong

Whenever he sees you, applying lip liner and gloss to your thick lips, whenever he sees you reclining in the sun with light sparling off your dark skin, when he gets a full view of the perfect roundness of your ass, when he noticed your shorts slide over once during a group sleep over and he saw a bit of your plain underwear, when you randomly put him in a bonnet and he's engulfed by your scent for just a moment.

It isn't his fault! Ever since he had a dream about you dry humping him, Stiles's hasn't been able to really think straight. And with the regular stress of his life, it was only getting worse.

Right now, he's struggling to keep his voice down. Eyes rolling to the back of his skull and legs shaking as he stood up to try to avoid cumming on the bottom of his desk like some sort of pervert and ended up cumming on his own stomach. The second the warm liquid touched him, so did his shame.

Oh yeah, you can't focus on your homework, but you can touch yourself while you think of your friend dry humping you while she wears a cheetah print strapless mini dress? Good job man. Real good job.

Well, at least he could focus now.

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺

Here you go! I feel like Stiles would be a gooner sometimes. Like not typically but sometimes he goes a little crazy and is the type to rub himself sore. We know he's very imaginative, so I can imagine him having a really good sex dream and going insane over it. Now I'm tempted to write more about gooner Stiles who feels guilty for being a gooner </3

[gay-simple-and-chaotic]

Fuck it, tumblr can have the pureshadow flash fic I blasted my qpp with, fic below cut

Torments my boy by typing for 12 minutes. Fic is small and a bit angsty; contains self-use of it/its implied as a dehumanizing tactic. I also just like he/it/they Smilk but I think it's fun to think of how he thinks of himself. I've also not gotten to Beast Yeast yet I'm just insane about them.

"..I do not quite...understand."

His voice is as soft as always. So gentle. Undeservingly kind. Perhaps this is why he was so loved. No matter the truth he'd speak, he would say it in that voice, with an innocence belying his age.

He looks at it with that innocence. Eyes closed, lashes dainty against his cheeks, and after silence presses on, he opens them, perplexed.

They do not see what is there.

Not merely due to their inability; it is close enough that he could surely count crumbs on its face. But he has always been one to see the light where there was none.

"Shadow Milk Cookie." Its name falls from his tongue like the heaviest of truths, yet wrapped in the levity of the lie it knows it to be. Nobody remembers the truth, after all.

It made sure of that.

It scoffs. Rolls its eyes at him. Sticks out its tongue. Plays flippant.

"Oh, precious silly cookie," it lets words flow like syrup, sickly saccharine and suffocating in their false warmth, "what's there not to get?~"

"Why it is that you've not yet crumbled me."

Why?

Why?

It has no answer. It stares at him, face frozen in the grin it donned. Why not? Why not? What did he mean? What was it to say?

"You want the souljam," he says, and those words are true. It thinks so, at least. "But yet you refuse to simply take it from me. What motivates this game of yours?"

"Fun!~" It cheers before it allows itself to dare think. "You're just terribly adorable when you scream and wail for help, don't you know?"

"...You're not telling the truth."

"Duh!" The scoff comes out with dismissive force. "Why would I, silly Vanilly?"

It doesn't like how he looks at it. It doesn't like it. It doesn't like it it doesn't like it it doesn't like it it doesn't it doesn't IT DOESN'T--

Why doesn't it?

What is the truth?

Why hasn't it crumbled him?

It has been silent too long. It has stared into his eyes too long. It detests that kind, weary, familiar smile on his face. It despises his pity.

"...I don't need you to look at me like that," it spits, turning on its heel and fleeing. It will come back. It has to.

It...wants that souljam, right?...

[girliism]

she gets the job done. (18+)

cowgirl!tashi duncan x reader

-

a new summer called for a new ranch hand that your parents have hired to take care of the horses your family has been raising for generations. and god, she was so much prettier than the ones from past summers.

-

despite being raised around them you would not consider yourself a horse girl, the opposite if anything. your parents use to have to beg you to at least stand near one, but since the day tashi duncan walked onto your property everyday at the same time you would stroll into the stables and make an attempt to flirt with her.

“morning.” you had put on the shortest short you could find and reveled in the way tashi let her gaze linger on your legs before adjusting her cowboy hat and greeting you.

you watched tashi in all her glory. the way her ass looked in her jeans, how she softly groomed one of the horses. running her fingers through its mane and petting it in long strokes. she was so good with them, stern when it came to their training but still sweet with her praises. you wondered if that’s how she was in bed too…

tashi hummed along to the country music playing lowly throughout the stable. “so how are they, the horses.” you walked your fingers along the stable doors, inching closer to her. tashi dropped the brush in her hand and turned to face you. “honestly? they’re some of the best horses i’ve worked with. i’m hoping i stay long enough to see this girl give birth.” she referred to the horse she was previously grooming. a tall black and white stallion, her lineage being the oldest one of all your horses.

“oh please, you should have seen them with our last ranch hand. absolute terrors.” you replied. “maybe, they all just like me too much.” she joked, a smirk forming on her face. you stalked closer to her. “well, who can really blame them. you’re incredibly likable.” before tashi could respond a mans voice cut through.

“babe.”

the both of you turned to where a tall brunette stood tapping his watch and singling you to come on.

you let out a sigh. “i— uh, i have to go.” tashi nodded “yeah, you don’t wanna keep him waiting.” she said with a certain tone that you didn’t pick on.

-

“you have terrible timing, fyi.” was the first thing you said when you approached him.

“what, did i interrupt your perving?” patrick said. patrick who lived a golf cart ride away and has been your friend since middle school. you pinched his side. “first of all, i wasn’t perving. but yes you did interrupt.” patrick rolled his eyes, throwing his hands up. “shoot me for being on time.”

patrick stayed over the entire day, and when night fell the two of crowded in front of your mirror getting ready to go out.

you took step away from the mirror. “ok, hows my dress? too short?” you turned in a circle giving him a 360 of your tight little black dress that rode up slightly when you walked. patrick surveyed you. “you look hot.” you clapped. “now what about me. is the eyeliner to dark?” you shook your head. “no. it’s look so good.”

pictures and videos were captured of the two of you for you respective feeds before you guys set out for the night.

one the way to the car you could help but look over to the guest house tashi was staying at. the lights were on and you thought you could see her shadow moving inside. many parts of you itched to wanna go to her but you ignored them hoping into patrick’s jeep.

-

the music at the bar was loud, and the insides felt warm from the shots after shots of alcohol you and patrick were consuming.

“it’s just i haven’t been fucked in so long, and i want her so fucking badly.” you ranted. “what if she’s not even gay?” patrick threw out there which makes your eyes roll. “tell me patrick, how many straight girls do you know that have a mini lesbian flag keychain hanging in their pickup truck?” you put emphasis on the type of car she drove, downing another shot.

“well at least you’re not barking up the wrong tree.” patrick muttered, his eyes focusing on something, someone behind you.

“alright, who have you been eye fucking?” you turned your head to see three different people patrick could be eyeing. “the hottest blonde man i’ve ever seen.” he smirked. you let out a playful scoff.

after a while said blonde man made his way over your table, leaning down to whisper something in patrick’s that had him biting his lip before he walked off.

patrick’s gave you a look, a look you knew all too well. “please don’t hate me, but-” you cut him off with raise of your hand. “it’s ok, i’ll fine a ride a home.” patrick gave you a cheeky grin and kiss on the cheek. “thank you, i love you. oh! you should call your cowgirl to pick you up!” and then he was gone, chasing after a one night stand.

you had a few more drinks while contemplating calling tashi.

“hey, uh— it’s me. could you come pick me up?”

-

“fun night?” tashi said, when you climbed into her truck.

“something like that.”

the car ride was quite only the low hum of the car engine cut through the silence.

tashi parked her car on the gravel outside your huge house.

“thanks for the ride, sorry if i woke you.” tashi shook her head. “it’s nothing, i’m glad you called.” neither of you got out. just looked at one another as if daring the other to make the first move. which you did.

you reached your hand over, and in a second your lips were in hers. tashi could taste on her tongue what you had been drinking. and you could taste the cigarettes she had been smoking and some kind of fruity drink. it made you want more.

you locked you fingers in the strands of her hair, and deepened the kiss. both of you panting messes in each other’s mouths.

“wait.” tashi pulled away from you. “we can’t do this.” you looked at her confused. “what? why?” she just shook her head. “because, you… i-i work for your parents.” you opened your mouth to protest but tashi spoke up again. “and you’re drunk right now.”

you rolled your eyes at tashi’s excuses, and leaned in to kiss her neck. “i’m like barely even tipsy. and my parent wouldn’t care.” you sucked a tiny mark under her jaw.

“what about your boyfriend?”

that made you freeze and move back. boyfriend? why would she think you had a boyfriend?

then you thought back to earlier, to patrick calling you babe and throwing his arm around you. you let out a groan and dropped your head in hands. “i don’t do girls with boyfriends.” tashi said, leaning over you to open the car door. “but-” you started, but she cut you off. “good night.” she left you no choice but to exit the car muttered a small good night.

you walked of the course of shame all the way back to your bedroom where you collapsed on you bed. turning on the tv and letting some cartoon drown out your embarrassment.

-

you were woken up by the opening of you room door, and patrick’s voice.

“raise and shine, sweetheart. i got donuts and advil.” you chucked a pillow at his face. “what the hell was that for?” you popped your head out from under the covers. “i hate you.” patrick laughed, and crawled into your bed next to you. “i take it someone didn’t get laid.”

“i was so close patrick, but then you had to ruin it.” you whined. “what did i do?” he said, mildly confused. “she thought we were dating, patrick!” he went silence before letting out a loud laugh.

“it’s not funny, pat. i particularly threw myself at her last night only to get rejected.” patrick cuddled close to you. “i’m sorry. maybe next time, yeah.” you huffed.

“maybe.”

-

when night fell you landed three knocks onto the guest house door. tashi opened it coming her in your view. she was wearing a wife pleaser and some pajama shorts. her hair was still damp from her shower.

“what are you doing here?”

“i wanted to apologize for last night…” you said, fiddling with your fingers behind your back. tashi sighed, moving out of the way to let you in.

she had redecorated the guest house completely, and made it so…. her.

you stood awkwardly next to her couch. “i really am sorry. i definitely was way more that tipsy last night and i apologize if i made you uncomfortable.” tashi walked closer to where you stood, her height compared to yours caused you to have to look up slightly.

“it’s fine, really. i was just protecting my peace, you know. i’ve done the whole girls with boyfriends thing and never again.” she laughed.

you nodded, rocking on your heels. “ i get that, but i uh— don’t have a boyfriend. patrick’s just my friend, my extremely touchy, affectionate friend.”

there was pause before tashi spoke.

“good.” she said under her breath, moving even closer to you. the backs of your thighs hit the couches armrest. “because i really liked kissing you last night.”

before you could respond it was tashi’s turn to initiate the kiss. one of her hands on your waist the other clutching the back of your neck. you pushed back into the kiss matching her pace. this kiss was more sober and determined than the one yesterday.

tashi moved from your lips to neck, sucking and kissing a few marks there. you melted into her, your legs parting subconsciously. tashi slipped her knee into the open space and pressed her thigh against your crotch.

“o-oh!”

you felt tashi smirk into the skin of your neck at your reaction. her fingers left your waist and pulled teasingly on the waistband of your pajama pants.

“can i?”

your rapid nods were all she needed to sink to her knees pulling your pants and underwear with. you stepped out of the clothes pulled around your ankles and spread your legs wider for her.

tashi placed kisses on each side of the inner thighs before licking strip up your cunt.

“oh my god!” your head fell back and your fingers found home in tashi’s hair, gripping the strands tightly as she sucked harshly on your clit. “wanted this, wanted you for so long.” you confessed, bucking your hips forward. “me too, baby.” tashi hummed, sending vibrations up your body.

tashi pulled her head back to watch how her two fingers pushed into your pussy, sucking them in. “fucking gorgeous.” she flicked her tongue over your clit.

your moans and the squelching sound coming from tashi’s fingers fucking in and out of you floated in the air. you moved your hips in time to meet the thrust of her fingers. her nose knocking into your clit. “ta-tash, m’so close, gonna cum.”

she stood up, leaving her fingers to do the rest of the work. you could taste yourself on her when she kissed you. you whined into her mouth when her finger tips poked against the soft spot inside you. the constant pressure she applied there paired with her thumb rubbing circles on your nub had your eyes crossing as you came.

tashi let you ride out your high on her fingers before slipping them out. you caught your breath, moving your hands to tug at tashi’s shorts.

“wait.” she stopped you. “not yet.” she grabbed your hands and pulled in the direction of her bedroom. “sit on the bed, i’ll be right back.” tashi whispered, before disappearing into the bathroom.

you took off your shirt, leaving yourself naked lounging on her tashi’s comforter. you got lost in the smell of her that lingered on her sheets and almost missed her entrance.

tashi stood at the foot of the bed. she had on nothing but a black harness that held a purple dildo. the sight making you wet again. “you know you’re only here for the summer right. do you always travel with a strap?” tashi huffed a laugh. “never know when you’ll meet a rich girl in need of a good fucking.” she crawled onto of you. her brown eyes staring into yours. “you look so pretty on top of me.” you said softly. she cracked a smile. “you look so pretty below me.” tashi replied.

she slid the dildo up and down your slit before pushing inside of you. your back arched slightly from the stretch. tashi stilled inside you for a moment before hiking one of your legs up on her waist. she fucked you with long hard thrusts, the head of her cock knocking perfectly on your sweet spot.

“look at you. taking me so well.” tashi grunted, dripping her head down to suck a nipple into her mouth. “perfectly made to get fucked.” she snapped her hips faster getting loud gaspy moans to fall from your lips. “oh my god, tashi. fuck!”

tashi stopped for a moment to sit back on her heels. her hands gripping your thighs as she fucked you harder and faster. you held onto the sheets under you. your back arching up and your tits bouncing from the force. “gonna -nnhg!- cum again.” one of your hands slipped down to play with you clit.

with a few more thrust from tashi, you came on her silicone cock. she slid out of you and unstrapped herself from the harness before cuddling close to you. “can i finish you off.” you whispered against her cheek. she gave you the ok and you trailed kisses from her neck down her chest, stopping to lick over nipples before you disappeared between her legs.

you spent time there sucking and licking her cunt, pushing your fingers in and out until she came.

“was i good?” you hovered over her, your lower face wet and glistening from her juices. “so good.” she whispered against your lips before locking them in a slow but hard kiss.

“what now?” you rested your head on her shoulder while she traced zigzags up and down your back.

“hmm, round 2?”

-

[acerathia]

how art is made (out of your desire) || Qi Yu | Rafayel

Summary:

Art is something subjective. It's supposed to be. Yet, it seems that everyone agrees what art is. You don't. To you Art is something special, something only you understand. Until you met him.

Wordcount: 4.9k (lol?)

Read on AO3

Pairing:

Professor!Qí Yù | Rafayel / f!non-MC!Art Student!Reader

Tags/CW:

Minors and Ageless Blogs DNI!! porn with some plot, art is subjective, and extremly horny here, semi-public masturbation (in a bathroom), orgasm denial, private masturbation (help lol), both vaginal fingering, edging, bodily fluids used in art, squirting, lowkey strip tease?, cucking as in, he's watching her masturbate idk if that's right lol, cunnilingus, pussy job, piv, some kind of exhibitionism, u will get it LMAO, this is without feelings, what if i kms, this is weird and lowkey gross and for meee

Note:

professor rafayel is lowkey insane and i need him in my guts thanks

Nobody truly knows what Art is for them. Many simply tell the normal and usual response.

“Art is an expression, some sort of communication.” “It’s entirely subjective.” “Everyone has their own interpretation of its meaning.” “The artist had an idea, a feeling and put it onto the canvas for us to understand.” “It’s the technique that matters.”

Nothing out of the ordinary, standard words for people to repeat without putting much thought into Art itself. Not you, though. To you, Art is something out of this world, something that sends shivers down your spine, making your heart beat, your blood rush, your head spin; something that excites you to the core. It’s reverence, it’s worship, it’s lust.

Maybe because of this difference in views, you can’t help but be bored to death at every single of your lectures. The professors, failed artists in your eyes, droning on about the techniques and how to use tools to use your skills to the fullest. Nothing but empty words when the right feeling is missing, when Art is missing.

That’s why you had pretty low expectations for your newest lecture. The professor is allegedly a famous artist, teaching just for some time, exclusively. Not that you care, most artists aren’t more than people with nimble fingers and connections.

At first, you did try to get into their world, to get to know all the different artists and their styles, what made them special, what made them stand out. But every time you stood in front of a painting, you felt… nothing. None of all these pretty decorations evoked anything in you, and soon boredom turned into frustration. Your dream was to belong, to have your own work join their ranks. But after disappointment after disappointment, you could not even think about your silly dream. Was it truly worth risking your beliefs just to fit in? To strip everything that makes art Art for you just to make it pleasing for all of these people with nothing but time and money? This realization made you turn your back on the world of artists, diving into your own Art, ignoring all possible repercussions of your intentional ignorance.

So, the professor at the front of the room is a complete stranger to you, but you do notice the reach of his fame, as the whispers stack on top of each other, getting louder with each student entering. You simply ignore the fawning and take a seat in a place where you can just not pay attention. Because the only reason you’re here is for the credits. And this new professor isn’t going to change your opinion about their type of art just with his senseless blabbering, probably filled with praise towards himself.

Still, you try to at least act as if you’re interested in what he’s saying, just until he’s not paying as much attention towards his audience anymore. You set your eyes towards him, and you freeze. Purple hair, soft as clouds above the setting sun, a gentle face, smooth and akin to beautiful marble. But what really gets your insides in a turmoil are his eyes. The way they shine when the light hits them, and the coldness hiding underneath all that radiance. Eyes that belong to someone with a certain touch, something similar to you, yet entirely different.

Your heartbeat rises, your lips curling ever so slightly. Oh, how much you desire to see a single work of his, to see if it could change your world. And so, despite your initial rejection, you begin to pay attention to what he says. Careful, one might even think calculated. Every word leaving his lips is akin to a script, something Rafayel, as he introduced himself as, is simply saying to please the masses. But you know, you know the way he’s speaking is different, the way his body coordinates so flawlessly with his words, but there’s always something off, and you know. Words which seem so pliant and meaningless, sprinkled with what he truly wants to express, hidden for anyone to see. And you were hanging on his lips, piecing everything into rough patches in your mind, out of order, nonsensical, but something.

Until he finally reveals one of his paintings, as part of the impending discussion. The moment your eyes lay on the canvas, the way the colors flow into each other, you gasp silently. The emotions seeping out of every brushstroke are caressing your skin, flowing into your veins, tickling the deepest part of you. The painting is filled with desire so intricate, so deep, you grin with excitement, pure unadulterated excitement, throbbing and twitching.

With this, you knew that Professor Rafayel is just like you, that his kind of Art is filled with the same meaning as yours does. A buzz is filling your brain, one stemming from all the possibilities, all the Art you can create under his tutelage; together with him.

The bubbling under your skin does not abate even after the lecture is over, your eyes never leaving him out of your sight, drinking him in, every single motion, every single word. You take everything, and you thirst for more.

That’s why you straighten yourself out, making sure that you look the right balance between amazed, worried and meek, hiding all your hunger away, before you make your way to his desk.

“Good morning, Professor Rafayel. Uhm, I love your art, the way the colors interlink and create this atmosphere, it’s amazing! Uh, what I wanted to say is, that I’m worried– worried that I might not do good work in this class. Do– Would you mind if I showed you my progress occasionally? Maybe give me some pointers?”

His eyes briefly glance over your face, and you barely hide a shiver, feeling your heart beat loudly in your ears. It’s obvious that Rafayel is a genius, and you don’t doubt he has seen through your empty compliment, but as most people sound the same, you’re not worried that he will call you out. Rather, it will strengthen your facade, making him believe that you’re truly as clueless as you make yourself out to be. So, you nibble at your lower lip and furrow your eyebrows ever so slightly, not too much, but just enough for it to look like a subconscious action.

“Alright, you can do so during my office hours,” he finally responds, scrawling all the information you need on a piece of paper and handing it to you.

Thanking him profusely, you leave the lecture hall, and the moment you step out, a grin breaks over your face, the tip of your tongue gliding over the edges of your teeth. You have finally found something that can satiate you, another person with the same essence as you.

So, without stalling for a single second, the moment the door to his office unlocks, you’re already carrying your painting with much care into the room, and give him a smile the moment your eyes meet. With a simple flick of the wrist, he shows you where you can set the canvas for the upcoming analysis.

The painting is one of the lighter ones. The real motive hidden behind the swirling colors of the waves, entering and leaving a cave, gushing. If one knew how to look, they would uncover the yearning, or rather, the desire behind each brushstroke. This painting got created with a mix of oil and water, highlighting the insinuation for those who get it. Normal paint, not the ones you mix specifically at home. No, those mixtures are used for that kind of painting you had yet to show. You first have to make sure that your intuition has not lied to you about Rafayel.

The artist has positioned himself in front of the canvas at the perfect distance and you watch as his eyes glide over every single decision of yours. Chaotic strokes and a use of paints that could only be called unrefined in the eyes of those who seek perfection. But every single one of these was a rational decision, every single one shows the heights you’re willing to reach, ignoring all that is natural and accepted.

You don’t know how long it takes, because you’re simply staring at him, watching every single reaction, down to the tiniest twitch. And then he faces you, a small smile playing around his plush lips.

“Interesting work. The emotional resonance could be stronger, though. Do you mix your own paints?” he cocks his head, his eyes wandering over your face, almost like it’s the first time he’s truly seeing you, like you weren’t even worth noticing before.

And now you are. You nod. Not trusting yourself to speak, as the depth of his eyes is revealed before you, their intensity not only shining through, but outright swallowing everything else. All of this makes your blood hot and you bite on your lower lip to suppress an inappropriately excited grin.

“Good. Next time, bring me one of those paintings. That’s when we can truly start with Art, yeah?”

A shiver runs down to your spine and you feel your lungs collapse, breathlessness wracking your body as you feel heat throughout your body. Before your reaction becomes too obvious, you thank him, giddiness tainting your voice, before you leave with your painting.

There’s barely enough time to stumble to the next bathroom, locking yourself into the cramped space, before you begin to pant, moans stuck in your throat. Before you know it, your belongings already strewn across the ground, your hand has dipped into your pants. Quickly, your fingers touch your throbbing clit, strokes after strokes after strokes, in circles, with more and less pressure, akin to how a painting is made. Slowly, they drag towards your slit, warm and wet, a cave yet to be filled, the waves yet to crash.

But instead of using your fingers to enter, you simply let the pads tease your entrance, and you shiver and clench. The aching hole, needy, bothered, yearning to be filled, an emptiness evoking nothing but inspiration. Your very own muse. One that cannot be taken away from you, ever. Your body tenses when your fingertips return to your clit, touch too feathery for your liking, but this lack of satisfaction makes you lightheaded, and you feel yourself climbing, climbing, one step and you’re going to–

With the last shreds of self control, you jerk your fingers away from your hot bud, your insides hollow and craving. Not yet, you’re only going to give yourself the heights of pleasure once you finish a painting that will make him look at you, truly look and see you.

A shaky sigh, before you fix your rumpled appearance and collect your scattered things. With the unsatedness settling in your body, you rush back to your atelier, inspiration fueled once again.

Once there, you grab your palette, dried colors flaking off of the surface. What you want, need, to show him should not be any old art of yours, no, it should be proper Art, the exact one Professor Rafayel is seeking.

There are uncountable tubes of paint sitting each in their own corner, but for this painting, you shall not use any normal paint. A stack of cans is hidden in a cabinet, each color painstakingly collected, wrung out, until mixing each component brought you these colors. Their consistency and shimmer something one could only replicate if they shared the same sentiment as yours. And of course, a small container, barely as big as your little finger, and its content even smaller. This truly is something that only exists for you, only imitations are possible, but perfect copies never. Unless you allow them to. But it has been ages since you have been attracted to another artist.

A thought creeps up at this, and you lick your lips. Maybe, if everything works out with Professor Rafayel, he might get a bit, and you might get another component for your colors. You wonder how that one might affect your painting.

For now, you set the small container away, it’s the last step to finish the painting, and then you turn towards the open white space of the canvas, and you remember how you felt earlier, how it felt to rise, rise, rise, only to plummet into nothingness. You let these feelings flow into the paint brush and you move, guided by your reverence, by your lust, towards Art.

The colors mix and flow, gush and squirt. Pushing and pulling, hitting the right areas, over and over again, getting the perfect angle with every stroke. Letting the tip caress and touch and love. Moving in circles, in patterns, pressure against the hot spot at the right time, and it drops and drips.

Heaving, panting, hot and feeling sticky, you finally take the small container combined with the smallest brush in your arsenal. You press your tongue against your teeth as you slowly spread the fluid where you need it to be, where it would have the most effect on your painting.

Only after the finishing touches do you unravel, feeling the high of Art, of this painting, penetrating you, making your insides squirm with want and desire. You throw your head back slightly and you moan, letting this feeling overtake you. This is what true satisfaction feels like, and it would reach new heights once you show this piece to Professor Rafayel, once you experience his reaction to it.

You let your piece dry, as there’s still time until you can visit him again. So, all you do until then is attend lectures as you have been, keeping the tension in you going and going, never letting it snap or slip away. Even if you were pretty close to losing control when Professor Rafayel made intense eye contact during one of his talks about the emotions and the way they manifest in art. Something about the way he looked at you made you clench and swallow.

And when he beckons you to talk to him after class is over, you feel your blood heat up with excitement, rushing to your head.

“How can I help you, Professor?”

Without a preamble, he gives you a slightly crumpled piece of paper. “Let’s change locations for the next meeting. I think it would be more ideal to do so. Do you mind?”

You shake your hand and glance at the address written.

“Good. See you then.”

His back is already facing you before you could say goodbye, but you don’t mind, your mind is too preoccupied with the fact that he wants to avoid meeting on campus. You knew your intuition about him was right.

With a grin splitting your face, you make your way home to grab your latest painting, before you input the address into your phone.

You have no idea how long it took you to get there, but standing in front of the gate closing off the huge mansion rips you out of your excitement-induced trance. This eerily looks like a home rather than just an atelier, just some place. Your ribs tingle and you hum. This is getting better with every step. You barely remember to ring the bell, your insides twitching and nudging, and all you want to do is grab him and show him what you’re capable of.

The gate swings open and you step through, feet almost silent on the soft rock leading you to the entrance of the mansion. You take a breath before entering with a knock.

“Professor?” You look around, trying to find the atelier in this huge place.

“Drop that, we’re not in university, right now, we’re just two artists,” his voice sounds behind you and you twitch in surprise and turn around to face him.

His words, coupled with his baring shirt and flushed face, make you unable to speak, suddenly stunned. Rafayel looks like he has been painting passionately and this, coupled with the removal of the societal barrier between you, make you lightheaded, your blood rushing into your fingertips, into your core, and weirdly enough, over your nape. You can only nod, clutching the canvas desperately.

He glances at your hidden work and cocks his head to make you follow him. And he leads you into his spacious atelier, paint and brushes, marble and chisels, a controlled chaos. You can’t help but stop to stare at some of his unfinished works, bare bones, but enough to light something in you, to make you yearn for something so far away, seemingly forever out of reach. His works are simply on another different level, out of your world, you can barely imagine how he might have achieved this.

“Hey, you can put it on this one,” he calls out to you, pointing towards a free easel.

A couple quick steps and you have caught up to him, and you put your painting where he has shown you, removing the covering at the same time. You notice the cloth covering the ground, but who are you to understand the whims of a genius artist.

You put some distance so he can have proper space to see your work while you watch him. Watch him scrutinize your work, analysing every single brushstroke, every single color combination. Like a lot of your paintings, it looks like a simple one, until you dare to dive deeper. This one shows the waves crash against an impossible cliff, trying to reach the edge but failing with each wave, with each push. To you, it’s obvious what your intent is, but you hope it’s clear to another person, to him.

There’s the tiniest clench in his jaw and you keep your eyes on him, wide and expectant, you’re not even trying to put on a mask anymore, it’s too late for that anyway. Soon after that miniscule reaction, he turns his head to face you, eyebrows ever so slightly furrows.

“This is excellent work. Truly, the repression is visually and emotionally resonant, making the viewer feel stifled as they’re failing to reach the climax. But say, how did you produce this?”

With a long stride, he’s letting his fingertips swipe ever so slightly over one of the parts you have coated in your very own mixture. And you almost whimper when you see him smell and lick it off his skin. All while holding eye contact with you.

“Why don’t you show me? Hm?”

You release the air out of your lungs, a little raspy, bordering between a giggle and a moan, and roll your shoulders and neck. Then, you make eye contact with him, as you let your fingertips wander over your throat and collarbones, drawing the line of your chest, splayed across the peak, before your palm beets your tummy, closer to the waistband of your pants.

Playing with the button, you ask him with heavy eyelids: “How much do you want to see?”

While you have been putting up this act, Rafayel has made himself comfortable on the closest couch. Positioned like it was his plan all along. From his seat, he cocks his head, fingers tapping slightly tapping against his temple, his body unrestrained, smooth and laidback, draped over the armrest, legs spread apart.

“Everything. Impress me.”

At his words, you hum, a suppressed moan in disguise, as you feel your insides twist and tense, yearning. With a flick you unbutton your pants and grab the zipper, slowly dragging it down, click by clack, his eyes watching your every move.

Without hesitation, you simply let your pants drop to the floor with a little shimmy of your hips. And maybe you did draw your motions out a little bit, just to see how his eyes follow each sway. Your pants out of the way, you lower yourself to the ground, legs apart to for him to see your still covered cunt and the wet spot on your underwear.

“Usually, I have something to collect it, but I suppose that won’t be necessary today, hm? This is but a demonstration. So, maybe a little censorship would make sense, don’t you agree?”

You watch as his eyebrows furrow, realization dawning upon him, as your fingers find your clit, pressing on your throbbing bud with the cloth still inbetween. A moan slips between your lips as you stroke it, drawing patterns on it, a piece in progress, swiping and flicking, controlled in a way a painter’s brush flows over the canvas. A calculated mess. The pressure sinking and rising, the angles changing, the position gliding. You know what your body needs, but to you, it matters more to satisfy the voices demanding for more and more Art. And the Art in this current situation is simple: A Show.

So, you follow the stream of one, building the tension more and more, hitting every spot that sends electricity down your nerves, until you’re about to reach the climax, only to stop, a cliff, the depression, tension dropping. Your moans turn into whines, even if you’re the one doing this to yourself, letting yourself hang in suspension. His eyes feel hot against your skin as he takes you in, takes every motion, every twitch of your hips, every drop dripping onto the whiteness underneath you. And you grin, tongue against the edge of your teeth, when you notice the strain in his pants. The effect of your Show, of your Art on him makes you clench around nothing, feeling yourself getting worked up without even touching yourself again.

After the little pause, you resume, fingertips stroking over your hot bud towards your slit, and you tease your aching hole with slow motions. You catch his eyes for a moment and you let your eyelashes flutter as you moan, deliberately making it sound close to his name, but not quite enough. With each dip of your fingers, with each caress, you feel your insides tighten, electricity tingling between your nervendings. Until with a certain flick, a finishing brush, you unravel, twitching and moaning, a resolution fit for the finishing act.

Panting, you put your hands behind you to support you, and you cock your head at him with a grin.

“Does that answer your inquiry? I doubt you could replicate it, though, unless you have me,” you raise your hand and stretch it towards him, and from your perspective it looks like he’s sitting on your palm.

“The Art we could create together, just imagining the possibilities inspires me again.” You close your eyes as you shiver slightly.

A shuffle, steps, and then Rafayel is crouching in front of you, taking your hand to kiss the tips of your fingers, his tongue licking the wetness clinging to them. With dark eyes he looks to you and smiles. A smile filled with something calculating and sinister, and your grin broadens as you give him the same look back, eyes wide and excited at the words he speaks next.

“With pleasure.”

With these words, his knees hit the ground and he crowds your space immediately. His breath mingles with yours, but he immediately pushes your torso to the ground, before he makes himself comfortable between your thighs, his hot breath now cooling the wet cloth of your underwear.

“Let’s make Art,” he murmurs as he completely removes your panties, throwing them aside.

Not allowing you a moment to register what he’s planning, his mouth is already on you, tongue running once over your sticky folds, and his groan vibrates against you as he tastes you. Swiftly, he latches onto your clit, sucking and licking, teasing the throbbing, still sensitive bud with each move. His hands grab your thighs, holding you in place as your hips buck in reflex, yearning for the new sensation. For some time, all he does is let his tongue glide over your clit over and over again, enjoying the way your body tenses with each stroke. There’s a meticulousness to his lapping, a precision one only wields when holding a brush. And it seems that you have turned into a part of his canvas.

His control leads to your climax being delayed over and over again, every time you feel close to the edge, he pulls away, almost like he’s observing you, thinking over his next steps, how he wants to finish this piece. And you don’t know what he wishes to achieve but you’re willing to do anything for Art. So, you moan his name and tense over his tongue over and over again, feeling yourself drip and gush. Until he finally allows you to reach the edge of the canvas, one last stroke and it’s done, you unravel and out of your frays Art is made.

Your body limp on the ground and you barely look up as you hear the sound of the zippers, seeing him pull his pants just enough down to reveal his hardened length, pre dripping from the tip. His hands grab your hip, fingertips carefully digging into your flesh, as Rafayel pulls you closer to him, hip to hip, his cock pressing against your clit, and you whimper at the sensation.

“Before the real mixing starts, we gotta have all the necessary materials, don’t you think?” he murmurs before he begins to jerk his hips.

His silky tip presses against your throbbing clit, and the rest of him follows as he lets his length slide through your folds, carefully avoiding your wet slit, the one clenching with every time he moves his cock through you. His veins rub against your heat and you moan, his suppressed groans growing with each slide, twitching against you. You can’t help but grind your hips against his, trying to get more pressure, more of him. With each move, you feel your insides tense up, his length slick with your wetness, gliding and pressing against your aching bud. The way your sexes rub together, the noise, the slickness feels like that sort of Art where every viewer gets to participate, gets to feel what has been felt before. And before you knew it, you were watching him cum, splattering onto the white cloth, mixing with your earlier demonstration. Just seeing him twitch and the way his spend is pumping out, feeling its heat against your skin, makes the tension snap in you, just barely.

“Hng… perfect… now, the climax of this piece,” he rasps against your skin, eyes hovering over your face.

You barely have time to grasp his shoulders in an attempt to ground yourself some way, before you feel it. His tip slowly pushing into your entrance, spreading you apart bit by bit. Filling the aching void you have always left behind, the one always spurring your inspiration. The very one now getting replaced by another kind of pleasure, another kind of Art. You moan his name, clenching around him the moment he has filled you to the hilt, your hip against his, grinding, rubbing, slick and wet, and pure Art.

For a moment, everything stands still, the rapture of attention, the discovery of something so innate to life and what it means to create. Until his hips move, pulling out of you, slowly, drawing out like a brush following a measured line. And then he pushes into you again, angling your hips to hit that sensitive spot inside you, to get you messy and babbling underneath his touch. That’s how Art should affect people, turning their minds into a chaos, incomprehensible yet swirling you to the core.

Groans slipping from his lips mix with whimpers of your own as Rafayel finds a pace that satisfies you both, steady, careful, yet filled with conviction and decisiveness with which one would wield a pen to paper. His fingers find your clit and they add more pressure, more sensation, more texture and feelings, and you suddenly burst at the seams, sparks and colors filling your vision as you spasm and clench around him.

The way you tighten around him leads to his own climax, but he pulls out of you before he fills you with his heat, a decision you’re slowly beginning to understand.

Because as you pant and try to recover, you notice how the once white sheet has turned into different colors. With a surprised noise you support yourself on your elbows and take a closer look.

“Do you like it? The colors react to acidity and basicity making them appear. And see, desire is Art, Art is desire, and together, well, I think we can achieve the pinnacle of Art, yeah?”

You giggle, and even after he has milked you dry, you still feel a twist in your tummy, hot and delicious. “That is how Art is made after all, isn’t it?”

The same white canvas, the one colored with your pure desire, mixing and swirling, is soon exhibited amongst his paintings, your name by his side, a collaboration for all to see, with much more depth than anyone could ever comprehend (but not for you, every time you glance at this piece of Art, you see the outlines of your hips, your legs, the dents of his knees, his colors and yours, and the way they coordinate, mix). As for both of you, Art is Lust, Art is Desire. Something much more than what the common folk acknowledges, it’s something to pour your whole body into, no matter the consequences. So, you will continue to thread this path of Art, no longer alone, no longer with shut eyes, but with excitement and him by your side, discovering more and more ways to turn these feelings into expressions and colors. Showing each other how art is made out of your desire.

[effieotto]

Random Hunger Games headcanon

•Haymitch liked to trace the lines of Effie’s face when they were in bed to keep her in memory, because he loved her features and usually couldn’t see them properly when she was all caked up

•Katniss and Peeta had a hard time deciding which of their last names they would choose for their children. Because even though she knew that hers hold too much weight, for being forever associated with the mockingjay -and she didn’t want their kids to be associated with everything she once meant- It also represented the name shared between her, her Father and Prim, and she didn’t want to erase their memory from such a important thing in her life. So later on, Peeta suggested for them to use both of their names (Mellark-Everdeen) so the kids could decide which they would use when they got older

•When his rage had settled down and the Hummingbird Operation (along with everything else he had done during the war) had finally sink, Gale had a very ugly breakdown, while they waited for Katniss’s trial, and Haymitch was the one to pick him back up. The boy sobbed on Haymitch’s shoulder and he decided to, for once in his life, be the father the boy never had and help him through it all

•Effie Trinket had a bunny (i won’t go further, but she looks like the bunny type. So yeah, after the war she had a white fluffy bunny called Daise)

•Annie knew all those things about Gale when she wrote the letter for Katniss because, after the war, him and Johanna developed a close enough relationship and she had those informations by overhearing their conversations sometimes

•Haymitch resented Katniss a little for how blunted she had been when she asked for him to take Peeta’s place when the announcement from the Quell came out (even if he had been the one to offer it, he wished she had at least hesitated a little bit before throwing him to the wolves), and even though he had never (and would never, for countless reasons) tell her that, he always carried the feeling that she didn’t care for him as much as he cared for her, and the coldness of it hurt him badly….even if it wasn’t exactly true.

•Effie felt uneasy every time she went out with Katniss and Peeta’s daughter and a man talked to her too softly, because as much as she knew District Twelve’s citizens were warmer and that she wasn’t in the Capitol anymore, she couldn’t shake the memory of how the men usually talked to her when she was the same age, and as irrational as it goes, she didn’t want anything like what they did to her back then to happen with that little girl. So, not so politely, she would excuse them and nudge the girl to walk faster every time she gave too much attention for them

• When he got his recess from the Peacekeeper job, Gale went to District four and he and Johanna went out every Friday night to drink their sorrows away and find a easy fuck to each other -which wasn’t really an easy doing, because Gale was too shy and Johanna was too picky, but they had fun anyway-

•Even though Haymitch never enjoyed to leave District Twelve for long, he had managed to get involved in a handful of political activities for the knew world, since President Paylor had decided to have some use of his limited oficial knowledge and strategies to help Panem back to its feet. So he traveled once or twice per year through the Districts to help the new President with small social programs

[noblest-roman-of-them-all]

You're Not Broken

Janus ends up injured in a bit of a freak accident and Thomas can't help but wonder about the subconscious implications.

This does make reference to Too Soon, which is the conversation that Janus and Thomas had prior to thus incident, but can be read on it's own.

Thomas froze mid step as he trudged down the stairs, staring in fond confusion at Janus, who was lying peacefully asleep, across the top of the blinds.

How Janus had even gotten up there, he'd never know, but it did help narrow down what type of snake he was at least. Vaguely, Thomas wondered if perhaps he had ended up there on accident.

If Janus was indeed arboreal then perhaps in his room somewhere he had a perch he slept on, and had risen up into the living room in his sleep. Kind of like sleep walking but for more or less teleportation. Either way he seemed comfy enough up there, and Thomas's only real concern, as he quietly slipped into the kitchen to make coffe, was if Janus was staying warm enough.

Sure, heat rose, but the ac was on to keep things a little cooler for his own human needs. He did recall something about Janus's day wear being heat reflective so as to help him retain body heat once he was warm and dressed, but he wasn't sure the same could be said of his pajamas. After all, snakes tended to need things cooler to be able to sleep.

He glanced through the little window and out into the living room where Janus was perched. Maybe that had been the reason for the shift? Teleporting in his sleep to find a cooler place to rest? He turned back to his coffee with a thoughtful frown. It didn't matter exactly, he supposed, Janus was resting and that was what was important. It was honestly kind of endearing-

A snap! brought him out of his ponderings and in an instant Janus was on the ground, curling around his arm with a shocked and strangled scream.

Thomas swore under his breath and darted to Janus's side. "It's okay, I'm here," he tried to assure. "Lie back for me, bud, let me see you." The sharp angle his wrist was bent at was enough to make Thomas dizzy.

Janus glanced up through his tears at the blurry figure above him as he was gently pushed onto his back. "What's happening?" he breathed.

"You fell off the blinds," Thomas told him, gently stroking the scales at his temple. "I- I'm pretty sure your wrist is broken. Let me get Logan-"

"Remus!" Janus shouted instead.

The Duke appeared, clearly pulled directly out of bed, and shook his head, trying to reorient himself. "Where's the fire?" he complained, scrubbing his eyes.

"Janus is hurt," Thomas told him.

Remus snapped into action, rushing forward, bodily shoving Thomas out the way to kneel at Janus's side.

"He fell off the blinds," Thomas told him as he picked himself up off the floor.

Remus nodded, taking in Janus's condition in a glance. "Help me get him up," he ordered. "I'll hold his arm still, you get him up and let him lean on you." He gently took Janus's wounded arm in his hand, drawing a sharp gasp from him, and slipped his other under his body, while Thomas did the same. They moved in unison to push Janus into a sitting position and Thomas wrapped his arms around Janus, trying to offer some comfort.

Janus dropped his head back on Thomas's shoulder and gripped his arm with his good hand. Thomas glanced down at the hand on his arm, the strange texture of the skin momentarily distracting him. Wider scales seemed to cover the palm of Janus's hand, while patches of scales like on his face covered the back of his hand. This close he could see the same wider scales covering his throat and going down his chest.

"It's alright," he said softly, leaning his head against Janus's, snapped back to attention by a soft whine. "We gotcha, buddy, it's okay."

Thomas glanced over to find Remus had conjured a first aid kit and a pair of scissors. He watched at Remus carefully cut open the seam of Janus’s sleeve and peeled it back to revealed a deep purple and red mottled bruise that wrapped around his wrist like a bracelet.

Janus whined, fingers biting into Thomas's arm as Remus carefully probed the injury.

"Okay," Remus nodded. "Deep breath for me, Jan-Jan. I'll try to make it quick."

Janus wet his lips and nodded. He closed his eyes and let out a slow deep breath. Thomas ran his thumb back and forth on his chest and rested his other hand over Janus's to try to soothe him.

Janus still screamed, digging his heels into the floor, when Remus set his arm.

"All done," Remus promised. "Worst part is over. Just hold still so I can wrap it up."

Thomas started singing softly when he felt Janus's tears against his jaw, unsure of what else to do to help.

"All done," Remus said again and gently rested Janus's arm in his lap. "You okay?" he asked in a gentle tone that took Thomas by surprise. Even more surprising was the way Remus gently thumbed away his tears. It was a stark contrast to beating Roman over the head and ripping out Logan's teeth.

Janus nodded and leaned into Remus’s hand as he stroked his temple. "Thank you," he sighed. "Both of you."

"Let's get you to bed so you can rest." Remus wormed his arm between Thomas and Janus and tucked the other under his knees then pulled him carefully into his arms and dipped from the room.

Thomas sat on his knees, now stiff beneath him, for a long moment after the pair had disappeared.

"Kiddo?" Patton's soft voice broke the heavy silenced he'd been left in. "You okay?" he asked and knelt at Thomas's side with a hand on his shoulder.

Thomas shook his head. "Y-yeah, I'm- I'm fine."

Patton tucked an arm around his back and helped him to his feet. "What were you doing on the floor?"

"Janus fell off the blinds this morning. I was helping Remus with his arm. It looked like it was broken."

Patton frowned. "I didn't think we could get hurt after…after all that stuff Remus did to Logan."

"I didn't think so either, but…maybe it's different because he just fell and it wasn't something that someone else did to him? I-I dunno. Remus was able to set it and get it wrapped at least, so he'll be okay. I just…I didn't even know that could happen. I, um, I'm gonna check on him later. Let him get some rest for now."

—

Janus sighed at the light tapping on the door. "Come in," he called softly.

"Brought you some hot chocolate," Thomas said as he pushed up the door. "Wanted to see how you were doing after earlier."

"I'm alright." He groaned a little trying to get himself upright and Thomas rushed to his side to help, quickly putting down the mug and tucking an arm around his back.

"Take it easy," Thomas ordered gently. He passed Janus the mug once he was sure he was settled.

"Thanks."

"Did Remus do that?" Thomas asked gesturing to the bright yellow hard cast that now encased Janus scaled wrist.

Janus nodded. "The plus of his fascination with body horror, it makes him excellent at anatomy." He held up the cast. "It was a clean break at least."

Thomas stared at the cast a moment. "How did it happen? I mean, I know it happened, I saw that, but… I mean, Remus hit Logan with that throwing star and it just disappeared and he was fine. I guess I just don't get why your arm didn't heal as fast."

"I don't fully understand it myself, and even if I did it doesn't mean that I would be able to explain it. Suffice to say, Logan's role as Logic does play into it. Think about it, Roman was affected more severely by Remus’s action. Really it wasn't even so much the morning star that did it, it was Remus flicking him during his song, during an imaginative sequence, something that fell directly under both their roles as Creativity. Stories require logic, but logic doesn't inherently require stories, so when injured by Creativity, Logic sees no reason to abide by those rules and so remains largely uninjured."

"…I do get what you're saying and that does make sense, but it doesn't exactly answer my question."

"I don't particularly have an answer. It just is. Even if I did have a real answer chances are that I couldn't explain it or that you'd remember if I could."

"Why wouldn't I remember?" Thomas frowned.

"For the same reason you don't remember the conversation we had a few days ago," Janus told him. "You're not actually ready to accept the information I gave you. Virgil's right, you are the boss and you can know what you want, but I am still directly a part of your subconscious. You can say you want to know something, but if you don't truly want to know then I physically won't be able to tell you. I didn't silence Logan for fun, I silenced him because you needed a push to be truly ready to accept my existence. Because in that moment you weren't ready to hear it. Sometimes I'm silenced myself because you don't want to know things, and sometimes you push things out that you're not actually ready to accept after you've been told."

"I don't think I like the idea of not remembering an entire conversation from just a few days ago," Thomas muttered.

Janus gave a soft look ands set aside his mug to pat his bed. "Sit with me." Thomas complied with a sigh and Janus continued. "Even if you had been open to accepting all the information I gave you then, chances are you still wouldn't remember all of it because it was very late and you were exhausted. Not to mention you can't remember everything and beyond that you can't know everything. No one can know everything about themselves, can know everything in their subconscious. It'd be overwhelming to have all that information in your conscious mind. That's why information is either shut out or processed unconsciously in the first place."

"I mean…I guess that makes sense," Thomas admitted a bit glumly, drawing a smile from Janus, who patted his hand.

"I know it's upsetting, but it does keep you functional, which is, in fact, a large part of my function."

"Is it like…an analogy then or something?"

Janus frowned. "Is what an analogy?"

"Your arm," Thomas answered. "If you're…part of my subconscious…is something...broken about me?"

"Oh, sweetie, no," Janus assured softly. "There are…aspects of myself that are more reflective of you as our whole, but not this. You're not broken, sweetheart."

Thomas nodded, uncertainty making his chest ache a little. "Are you lying because I'm not ready to actually face it?"

"There are things that…need a bit of attention. There are things I can't outright tell you, but that doesn't make you broken. Wounded in some ways, yes, but not broken. I don't necessarily think there's a real reason for this-" he raised his casted hand "- but I suppose if you really wanted one, perhaps it was to get you to see Remus in a different light, or perhaps myself even. You're still getting to know us, still getting used to us." He shrugged. "Who knows? Don't go beating yourself up over it though, alright? You're not broken and this isn't your fault."

Thomas nodded. "Thank, Janus. Are you okay? Do you…need me to bring you anything else?"

"I'll be alright," Janus shook his head. "He's an absolute menace, but Remus actually does do a very good job of taking care of me. He is part of the same person as Patton after all," he winked. "Go on. I know you have things to do today. You can check on me later."

"Alright," Thomas relented. "Let me know if you need anything, though. I'll check on you later."

"I look forward to it," Janus answered with a smile.

[astrxlfinale]

"Eh nah!?" That Bangboo found itself poised by pure surprise. Did this mean its era of working on those charming looks (dusting it's head coat off regularly) was beginning to pay off!?

And here Lighter was intending to keep that a bigger surprise down the line. Thankfully he's the type to roll with the punches, holding back a tinge of laughter seeing how readily that Baddieboo in question was soaking up the attention. Thankfully, Blazewood was no stranger to travelers and tourists since Caesar took the mantle of Overlord.

Meanwhile Baddieboo found himself striking pose after pose. One leaning up against the wall, another where a far distant gaze was made across the canyon walls. Not to mention the sort where he gave March a look thrilled with (cutesy) confidence, a bold 'Eh, nah nah ah!' was declared with pure enthusiasm.

Lighter found him content in being a witness, arms crossed as he leaned up against one of the many outside lounge couches settled all over. Somehow, the new knowledge of the Space Princess here discovering their land, and finding ways to have fun with it offered a touch more light.

A hopeful feeling, it was proof that their resilience was leading them on the right track.

"Bangboo would be the core name here, while they all got names of their own. Baddieboo here happens to be the least shy out of all of them, don't get that ego of theirs shot up too much though. Haha."

"Well, aren't you well versed in the particulars." He'd soon bring back up to her earlier comments. Despite that initial worry, to see that even with a matter of a roof over her head, she still had a need for design (in this case a touch of honest laziness) in her favor? Quite a bit of moxie he can't help but think.

That said. A spot in Blazewood could match that criteria to the T. "While we're not gonna be shovin' ya into a box, sounds like ol fashioned apartment is to your liking. This modest ol' town here has ya covered on down the elevator."

Now that he taps into short term memory, did she imagine New Eridu was a bigger land of Cowboys? As if the whole world ran with this premise? That did go and get a round of laughter as he steps over to them.

Baddieboo found themselves posing upon some broken down motorcycle. Clearly this task needs to be kept up with!

"While you might find a cowboy or ten there, by no means is it ran by em. Ah-- I'm sure you've seen a lot more than me. Just picture a modern day city that has to deal with those same black hole issues and its own unique tricks up its sleeve. Almost sounds a movie, huh?"

So cheese recently became pretty popular here? That shouldn't surprise her fully. If this is the type of food (especially with adorable little guy as some mascot for the burger?) then of course adding some cheese made sense. She wondered if the design was based on something...

She smiled properly upon seeing his wink, watching him nod several farewells. She gave little waves to the people he said farewell to as she walked. Most just responded with the nods so at the final person March gave a goodbye nod instead. Clearly showing she is keeping up-

Reaching the entrance she was a bit content seeing him hold open the door. Oh a gentleman, huh? So she got to be called a princess, got free food, doors held up for her and possibly would be getting a little base?

"A house? Uh...that sounds like a lot of work even if it is a small one...unless like the house is two rooms big? I think maybe staying near here would be better in that case..." She didn't want to clean too much...so maybe something out here would just be a room to stay and some good company.

"Oh right, you mentioned New Eridu once or twice. Is that like an even bigger cowboy town or something?" Like if there were city limits clearly that place had to be kinda large but...surely it'd look something like this place she imagines? A bunch of charming little houses...she wondere-

"ITS THE BANGBURGER FRIEND!" She grabbed his shoulder as she pointed over at a Bangboo in the distance. One that was clearly just minding his own business. But had caught March whole heart and attention! Though her suddenly raising her voice to point it out did make one or two nearby people glance over at her and then the Bangboo she was pointing at. March didn't care too much about the unwanted attention from that and just brought out her camera with her free hand and was just taking picture after picture of him.

[lavenderhorns]

there's a lot of rage swirling around inside me right now I think, just at how things have ended up where I've done all the "right" things that everyone says you should do, gone to college and followed every bit of resume and cover letter advice, and have gotten literally nothing from literal hundreds of job applications. this feeling of being stuck and unable to move forward in life is certainly not a new one to me but it's been amplified so, so much by the fact that I can't find anything for work and am stuck at my dad's place slowly getting more fed up with him each day. there's a lot of anger in watching all my friends struggling with these same issues, about 3 of my 25-ish friends in town have jobs, previously 5 but two of them just got laid off, one when the entire building of 250+ people was unceremoniously canned. there's a lot of simmering fury in how everyone over 30, from friends to family to strangers to people literally working for the career service attached to the government, that just ignore the labour issues going on not just in general but also specific to my province, yknow how unemployment for people my age without that "2+ years work experience required" is approaching 20%, a number that would cause stammered outrage in any of these people if it actually applied to them, but is just quietly ignored when it only applies to the younger generation I guess. like, what is even the emotion that comes from "jobs are so heavily ingrained in society in capitalism that not having one will kill you in many ways BUT you're not allowed to have one no matter how hard you try" aside from just. I'm so goddamn angry, even though I don't like being angry. and there's really nowhere to direct this anger aside from vaguely in the direction of society and established norms and the government, and there's really nothing I can personally do to drag myself out of this situation. I can apply to thousands of jobs and make the most perfect resume ever, but at the end of the day it's not me who decides if I get the job. it's up to whatever shitty ai garbage program is throwing 99% of applications in the shredder to somehow notice mine which then passes it onto an uncaring hiring manager who just picks the person with the most experience and ignores the other 99 resumes the machine spat out because just about every single job here gets hundreds and hundreds of applications because, get this, no one my age is fucking able to find any work! and throughout all of this I'm just doing my best to deal with the creeping dread of slowly feeling that depression (that I don't like thinking about how close got to killing me back in high school) start to rear its head again because it's getting less and less easy to see any sort of future for myself like this. and this is all on top of the canadian housing market meaning I'm never gonna actually own a home, and every bit of daily necessities has been ruthlessly price gouged to 400% of what it was a few years ago and blamed on "inflation" while rent has skyrocketed because landlords imagined a bigger number, and while just about everyone in the country is angry at the PM because of all this it's terrifying to know that the general population political lean is worryingly conservative, as if that isn't the fucking cause of all this. all while I desperately want to transition more and figure out my personal style and dress the way I really want as if that wouldn't kill any and all chances of possibly making it through a job interview assuming I ever even get one.

and like, things aren't all bad for me right now. I'm not actively going broke yet, I have a wonderful long distance partner, I've been getting better at cooking and digital art and meeting even more local friends (many of whom are trans), and in terms of coming into my own as a person I feel like I've finally been settling into who I am.

but like, it kinda pales in comparison to the job market trying to kill me, yknow?

[requiemforthestars]

Being back in the Dragon Age fandom has awakened something long asleep within me, which is a seething deep, feral hatred and disgust for Cullen and dismay at the way everyone in the fandom is head over heels for him. Literally it's as fresh as it was on the first day. Truly, things you feel at 15 years old do not wane.

[icewindandboringhorror]

Recent images I suppose ~