#its not that deep but ive made too many references to like.

[hballegro]

me 4 months ago: what if BJ had a panic attack and him and hawkeye snuggled about it. wouldnt that be sweet? :]

me now: grief is an allegory for the divine and mourning is a form of worship

[tls12lessthan3]

So. orvs metatextual nature and gay jokes. orv is an action fantasy book, a genre designed primarily for men and starring men. now most of these books are not gay, but there is often a tendency by audiences (particularly female audiences) to see some level of romantic tension between male characters. orv is no exception to this. some authors respond with outright hostility when they see fans shipping their male characters, and some simply ignore it completely - but some go the route sing shong does, and play it for laughs. before i go any further, i would like to clarify a term i will be using - shippers. while this literally refers to readers who think there is romantic potential between two characters, i will be using to specifically refer to instances where those two characters are of the same gender. im doing this because i cant think of a more elegant word to be completely honest, and this is tumblr meta so who cares.

orv is a metatexual narrative which is aware of its genre and aware of its readers. those readers are represented in the narrative, and sing shong knowing that fans would see a possible relationship between kim dokja and yoo joonghyuk made sure to represent that too. so we get uriel, the fujoshi angel who is constantly reading into kim dokjas and yoo joonghyuks relationship in a way that is often played for laughs. now ive certainly seen worse depictions of ‘shippers’. uriel is treated with affection by the main characters, who genuinely like her (and the fans she represents by association). her love for joongdok is implied to come from her having a crush on her friend and projecting, which i see as a kinder depiction than the usual ‘slavering fujo’ trope. 

and perhaps most importantly her engagement with the story seen as just as deep as any other reader if not more so! uriel is one of the characters we see most changed by kim dokjas story - in every other universe shes a fierce and furious warrior, and while she never hesitates to kick ass in this round either, kim dokjas story has given her a solace that has made her significantly softer. she helps him out sooner than any other constellation, saving his ass in many ways during the demon world arc, demonstrating a deep investment we are clearly meant to be grateful for. wherever it comes from, uriels engagement with kim dokja’s story is shown to be a genuine and deep one appreciated by the characters. through this sing shong is almost directly speaking to the shippers in the fanbase who are often mocked or disregarded, saying that their love for the story is important too, wherever it comes from. i see this as sweet, and i like that unlike so many other authors sing shong recognise the role shippers often have in a story’s success.

however, i hesitate to give sing shong too much credit. because along with the genuine appreciation of uriel as a character and all she represents, there are jokes mocking her and those like her, and there are a lot of them! like i said above, sing shong wrote orv as a metatextual narrative that engages not just with the genre but with the genre’s fans. sing shong knew that people would ship their characters, as that is what happens with books like orv. and so they wrote in many jokes about it, jokes based around the ‘silliness’ of those who would assume kim dokja and yoo joonghyuk have romantic feelings for each other. and given orv’s metatexual nature, this also mocks the nature of shipping itself. when someone assumes kim dokja and yoo joonghyuk are together and they react with disgust, as frequently occurs in the earlier parts of the novel, we are meant to laugh not just at the misunderstanding - really, these guys gay, how silly. but we are also meant to laugh at the idea that these Protagonists are homosexuals, and at the people who make those assumptions. its a simultaneous acknowledgement and mocking of the queer undertones of both this story and it’s genre.

so you get this overall impression of a narrative that ultimately loves all of it’s readers, including shippers, but also isn’t afraid to say it thinks all that gay stuff is kinda silly. and while ebook edits have largely removed many of these gay jokes, an undercurrent of this still remains. from what i know this largely reflects sing shongs actual opinions at time of writing, whether or not they have changed later on. 

dont get me wrong, i love orv, i love joongdok, i love their relationship and i do read it as romantic. i too read the scene where lee gilyoung insists kim dokja is into men and kim dokja responds aghast and gone ‘haha, gay’. as a queer person in the webnovel scene i am no stranger to taking homophobic moments like that and reclaiming them, making the characters queer and pretending the author is laughing with me and not at me. im not trying to preach to anyone here. but i also think its important to acknowledge the conversation orv is having here - its valuing of shippers and its mocking of queerness, and where they overlap.

[alittlebitofloveliness]

Could you do some modern day Soda headcanons please? I love him so much and I love your blog so much soooooo….

Ok so soda is tricky for me to write but I tried my best!!!

Modern Au Sodapop Headcanons

-Drinks every single energy drink imaginable. Rockstar? Like its water. Prime? For the plot. 5 hour energy? He’ll down it in five seconds. Darry is HORRIFIED.

-Is pretty enough he’s one of those people who becomes moderately famous on TikTok without having to really do much. His followers notice he’s always talking to someone off camera, and they’re desperate to find out who it is, but Soda only ever responds to comments with ‘oh that’s just Stevie, he doesn’t like TikTok’.

-Soda’s followers have a lot of theories about this ‘Stevie’. Soda is weirdly tight lipped about him, despite the fact he often breaks off mid rant in videos to talk to him. There’s also the fact that the rest of the gang is often around/in the background of videos, but the mysterious ‘Stevie’ never appears. (okok I’ll stop here before this becomes a Stevepop social media au)

-Regularly forgets to take his ADHD meds and Darry often has to remind him

-Would either have a hockey flow or a mullet (whatever y’all think, personally I think modern Soda with a hockey flow tracks with his character)

-One of those people who loves horror movies but is also completely terrified of even the dumbest ones and has to sleep with the lights on for weeks afterwards. Steve makes fun of him for it, but will also stay up on the phone with him if Soda watches one by himself and freaks himself out

-Has a million fidget spinners because they actually help him focus on stuff when he needs to

-Soda in modern AU wouldn’t call Ponyboy ‘kid brother’ as a nickname (don’t get me wrong, I love it but Ive never heard it used irl). Instead, I think him and Darry (and thus the rest of the gang) refer to Pony as ‘shrimp’ and Ponyboy absolutely hates it  “where’s the shrimp” “he’s has track practice ‘till four, you of all people should know that Dar” (brought to you by me and my interactions with my own little brothers)

-The whole gang is super into video games, but Soda is kind of shit at them and lowkey grumpy about it

-Every teacher he’s ever had has done that thing where they expect him to be exactly like his older sibling, and therefore expect him to be a model student like Darry, and every time they are proven entirely wrong. By the time the same teachers see Ponyboy’s name on their class lists they’re terrified of what to expect

-He definitely had that horrible middle school boy stage where he just reeked of axe body spray and BO before he figured out proper hygiene

-Every two weeks him and Steve end up doing some sort of YouTube deep dive where they end up being convinced of some sort of wild conspiracy theory that Ponyboy and sometimes Darry have to spend three hours talking them out of

-Uses far too many emojis in texts

-He had a pet hamster once and you know that thing died in the most horrendous way imaginable. Two-bit probably farted into the cage at one point as a joke and the poor thing asphyxiated to death or some shit like that

-He’s that kid in group projects who does nothing and tanks the presentation for everyone by mispronouncing half the words on the slides some other group member made for him

-Him and Steve are so inseparable that when they’re not together people will be like ‘where’s your boyfriend’ and he just answers without thinking before flushing really hard and sputtering a bit. 

-One of those people that casually catches snakes with his bare hands. Steve HATES it and Ponyboy is TERRIFIED of snakes so he gets in trouble with Darry if he does it too often or brings them near the house

[yourfavoritewitchbitch]

Badge Bunny Part IV

Masterlist here!

Summary: When it all becomes too much, you're ready to leave Lehigh behind but Gator has other plans in mind.

18+ Only! MDNI!

Warnings: Reader is referred to as "Bunny" or "Bun". Minimal use of Y/N. ANGST!!! Gun use mentioned for protection. Unprotected P in V (wrap it before you tap it). Tad bit of size kink. Creampie.

Word Count: 6.4K

You watched him leave, with tears clouding your vision as they began to roll hot down your cheeks. It felt like a stone sat deep within the pit of your stomach.

It was for the best. At least, that's what you keep telling yourself, while your head and heart are at odds with each other.

He was always stuck in limbo. Never fully present with you even when he was home. At Roy's beck and call any and all hours of the day. It made your heart ache knowing he would never be truly yours.

It surprised you when he hadn't fought back, accepting the finality of it without a single protest.

He'd left that morning and seemingly hadn't looked back.

After spending most of the day in bed in and out of consciousness, with your body thoroughly spent of its tears you trudged your way into the kitchen. Your eyes scanning the living room right away, as if they were drawn there.

He'd cleaned up while you had been sleeping that morning, even going as far as cutting out the carpeting that held those wine-colored stains. A fresh wave began to sting and build at your lash line at the thought of him trying to clear any reminders, as if it would somehow erase what happened all together.

It would be the first night of many that the loneliness was almost unbearable. The house was far too quiet.

Every little sound puts you on edge. He'd left his spare gun, so you moved it to your bedside. It had even crossed your mind to go to the pound and pick up a big dog for security mostly, but you'd also have someone in the house.

Nights were when the walls started to press in around you. Anxiety at its highest. Reliving all those moments over and over again. It was enough to drive someone mad.

You didn't want to go back to work, Henry understood and told you to take all the time you needed. Your job would still be there when you were ready. You also knew you couldn't stay unemployed for long.

Maggie came over a couple of times to check on you. Her hard exterior melted at the first sight of your swollen eyes and bruises barely beginning to heal, pulling you into a bone crushing hug.

You were waiting for that “I told you so” that never came. She didn't mention Gator, which was a first, always having something to say about him or his father. You were grateful for the mindless chatter and town gossip instead.

She'd brought you enough groceries that you didn't need to leave the house for a few days, but you were growing stir crazy.

When you'd finally made the decision to get out it was a breath of fresh air. The house was beginning to feel stuffy and small as you got that caged in feeling thrumming through your veins.

The next day you went back to work, opting for the morning shifts. It was shit pay, but it was better than coming in at night. Still worrying that someone could be lurking in the dark. Ready to finish what they'd started.

Gator finally came and got the majority of his things making sure to avoid you, doing it while you were away. You weren't sure how he knew you wouldn't be home. He hadn't reached out, but you knew he had ways of finding everything out in this town.

Your heart ached when you saw the now bare side of his closet. Drawers emptied of their contents. The finality of it hitting you with a magnitude you weren't expecting. You willed yourself not to start crying again.

That very moment you decided you were leaving Lehigh.

It's been two weeks since you last saw Gator Tillman.

You'd finally began to work nights, keeping that gun in your purse for added peace of mind. Pulling doubles as much as possible, saving every penny you can scrounge up. It still doesn't seem to be adding up as quickly as you would like.

It's been a slow morning, when you notice Andy walking through the door, not missing the way he tried to avoid looking directly at you when he sits himself at his usual booth.

You sighed to yourself as you headed over, grabbing him a drink before doing so.

“Hey Andy,” you tried to sound chipper, but you weren't even fooling yourself. Sitting his drink and a menu down in front of him.

“Hey Y/N. How ya’ been?” He asked, with a kind smile.

“Uh, I guess about as good as one could… after… all that.” Waving dismissively.

“I'm sorry. That was a dumb question. I…”

“No, Andy. It's ok.” Placing your hand to his shoulder in a reassuring manner.

No one ever asked about it. You wished someone would say something to get it out of the way, but they never did. Instead, looking at you like a fragile piece of glass.

“You wanna look over the menu or you know what you want?”

He ordered his usual. You knew he wouldn't have come here by himself. He never came in here before you and Gator got together. Gator dragging him here at least once a week while on shift just to see you for lunch.

You made more menial small talk, checking on him here and there.

Before he left you made sure to catch him.

“You can tell Gator I'm fine. And if he's so worried about me he can come talk to me himself.”

He didn't try to deny it, simply nodding his head smirking as he went.

“See ya later, Y/N. Stay safe.”

-

Being completely honest with yourself, you hadn't slept well since that night. A glass of wine quickly turned into a bottle before bed to fall asleep. It didn't help the bags under your eyes, but it took your mind off the pain for a little while. Relaxing you enough to coax your mind into a few hours of rest.

You'd been stocking up at the grocery store each time you went and today would be no different. You made the trek, leaving work at a normal time.

Henry could see your exhaustion and told you to take the night off. Well, more like ordering you to.

You hadn't realized when you left the house, you'd grabbed one of Gator's old hoodies instead of your own, but it would have to do for a quick trip.

Opting for a basket instead of a cart would make it a quick in and out. You browsed the frozen food section picking out a couple of things then heading straight for the wine aisle grabbing a couple of bottles of rosé.

You turned the corner, bumping full force into someone.

“Fuck,” you hissed out steading yourself against a broad chest, looking straight up into hazel eyes that you knew all too well.

“Gator, what the fuck?” He had a hold on your basket, making sure it hadn't fallen from your grasp.

“Sorry Bun… Y/N.” He blurted out, while his eyes roamed over you. He noticed his hoodie immediately, making a small smile creep up on him that was quickly wiped away by your disheveled appearance.

Bags are starting to form under your eyes. The bruise on your cheek is a distant memory now. The cut above your lip is nearly healed but will leave a scar. A small, taunting reminder that this is all his fault.

He'd had a couple of buddies watch you from time to time. His way of trying to keep you safe. Andy had relayed your message earlier today. You were smart he knew you'd see right through him when he stopped by.

He finally realizes the death grip he still had on your basket when you looked up at him with your signature, “what the fuck are you doing?” expression.

He let go and took a step back. Giving you the out he knows you'll take.

“I'm actually glad I ran into you.” You spoke, not meeting his direct gaze, looking back down to the basket not containing much of anything but the alcohol you planned to down for the evening.

“You are?” He perked up at that, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Uh, yeah.” Willing yourself to meet his eyes. “You need to tell your goons to back off. I'm fine. I don't mind Andy so much, but I don't need whatever you're trying to do.”

You weren't fine. You both knew it.

He scoffs. “I… what're you talking about?”

“Come on Tillman.” Titling your head up at him, leveling him with a sharp stare. “That savior complex you've got for me. Plus, you're a terrible liar. It's written all over your face.”

He snapped his mouth shut, gaze falling away from you, and finally noticing the wine. He didn't say anything, it would only make it worse, but you didn't drink. Not like that. And from what he's heard from one of his friends you came by the store daily for it.

“I just worry about you.” He said it so low; you almost missed it.

“You could have called.”

“Would you have answered?” He asked, but when you stayed silent it told him all he needed to know.

“I've got to go. Just… just back off. Please.” You quickly shuffled toward the front, trying not to watch the crestfallen look on his face. You glanced back once you made it to the register, but he was already gone.

As the days went on, you realize that even the doubles weren't getting you enough to move from Lehigh as quickly as you wanted.

An idea struck a couple of days prior, something Maggie had mentioned when you first got into town. The prospect became more and more alluring with each passing day.

You were stuck and it seemed like the most logical thing to do.

Henry was sad to see you go but he understood. Everyone understood. He was surprised you'd stayed around this long with everything that went down.

“I'm sorry, Henry. I just need to get out of here. It pays the bills but not enough to get me out of town.” Laying it all out on the line, giving him your notice.

“Hey kid, don't be sorry. It's ok.” He hugged you. You'd come to see Henry as a fatherly figure. He often rolled his eyes at your antics but always had a listening ear when you needed it.

“Just take care of yourself.” He added.

“Of course! I've made it this far on my own.” You grinned, leaving behind your apron.

You were headed across town to see a man about a different kind of job.

Gator stomped through the door of the Lucky Lizard a couple of days later, a man on a mission.

Henry spotted him as soon as he came barreling in, sighing to himself.

“Where is she?” Asking in a huff.

“Gator, nice to see you too.”

“Don't fuck with me right now. I know she quit her job two days ago. Where is she?” He fixed him with a pointed glare.

“Why don't you ask her yourself?” He turned away from him, grabbing a fresh beer for someone at the end of the bar.

“Because she doesn't want to talk to me. But I need to know she's safe. At least give me that. I know she talks to you.”

“Uh… that's a kicker now. Safe? I'm not so sure but I know she doesn't need you causing an uproar.” He was hesitant, mulling it over. Watching the younger man's expression turn a little more rigid. He was already mad; this would probably send him over the edge.

“Gator, now don't be a dumbass about this, but I know she went for a chat with Jeremy Nash.”

He felt like someone poured ice water over him. Anything but that.

“Fuck.” He hissed. Henry called after him, but it was too late. He was already out the door.

You weren't new to this kind of job, moonlighting as a cocktail waitress a few years ago, but you'd never taken the plunge to actually be an entertainer.

You'd gotten hired on the spot by Jeremy to start the weekend shift, luckily giving you a couple of days to prepare.

You arrived early. He showed you the grand tour giving you a locker and a vanity to get ready at.

The other girls looked at you with disdain and jealousy as soon as you walked in. Seeing you as nothing more than fresh meat and competition to take their money.

They chatted amongst themselves, not so much as a word toward you as they quickly got dressed and left you alone in the dressing room.

“Nice welcome,” muttering to yourself as you continued getting things out of your bag to get ready.

As you were finishing your eye liner, Jeremy came bustling into the room.

“Looking good! Ready to make some dough? You're up next.” He stated enthusiastically, eyes trailing your exposed skin, as if he didn't see tits and ass every day. He was a little sleazy but nice enough.

You were about to go on stage at The Tender Trap.

The only strip joint within 100 miles and it just so happened to be close to Lehigh.

“Uh, sure.” You put on your best fake smile and stood.

“Wow, you look great. What's the stage name again?”

“Ugh, Bunny.” Holding up those bunny ears you'd had stored away in the closet back at home for emphasis. Going with all black, fishnets with thigh high boots, you'd only have white ears. Your body suit covering you until it would be time to remove it. Nothing underneath, leaving those fishnets, making you feel a little less exposed.

He grinned, nodding his head “it fits.”

It felt a little wrong to use the name. But you had the outfit right down to the ears and tail, might as well use it to your advantage. Guys go crazy for that stupid Playboy bunny persona.

He led you to the backstage, curtains drawn as another girl was finishing up.

The bass of the music thumping through you. Doing absolutely nothing to quell the jitters you had.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, we have a special newcomer. Everyone give it up for Bunny!” The DJ came over the loudspeaker as Wicked Games by the Weeknd started to play. It was your cue.

Your hand slightly trembled as you pulled the curtain back. Stepping out into the small spotlight, temporarily blurring your vision.

You smiled at a couple of men to your right as you took a few more steps to the center, hips swaying with the song.

There were some whistles and shouts that spurred your confidence. You continued to look around the stage as you slowly walked forward.

Your smile dropped when you locked eyes with a familiar figure. He stuck out like a sore thumb at the end of the stage, as he loomed over the other men.

His arms were crossed over his chest, staring you down, feeling the heat of his gaze from across the room. You froze for a moment before regaining your composure.

He tilted his head as if daring you to continue, eyes dark and zeroed in on you.

You tilted your head toward him and placed your hand around the pole to go ahead with your routine. His presence be damned.

It was then he jumped the edge of the tip rail, much to the grumbles and protests of the other men surrounding you, shedding his jacket as he stalked over.

“What the fuck, Gator?” You yelled, as he held the jacket up around you, pushing you back toward the curtain.

“I don't fuckin' think so Bunny. Let's go.”

With your heels you were nearly nose to nose with him, standing firm, you just stared him down.

“No.” You spat.

“Hey!” Both of your heads shot toward a very angry Jeremy Nash storming your way.

“Get the fuck off my stage! You entitled fuckin’ prick. Your father doesn't own this place Tillman.”

Gator rolled his eyes then narrowed his gaze back to you.

“Gator, just get the fuck down!” You yelled, pushing his chest but he hardly budged.

Jeremy reached the edge of the stage, pushing himself up and over, grabbing Gator’s arm momentarily knocking him off balance.

It all happened so fast. Once Jeremy grabbed him, he'd turned quickly, his fist meeting the other man's nose with an audible crunch that could be heard above the music.

He grabbed his face with a groan and started backing away immediately, yelling for you both to get the fuck out as blood poured down his mouth.

Without a second thought Gator turned back toward you, bending down, throwing an arm around your waist, and in one fluid motion hoisted you up over his shoulder.

“Gator Tillman! Put the me the fuck down right now!” He ignored your protests, as you kicked your feet and pawed at his back.

“Quit it, Bunny. No girl of mine is working at a place like this.” He placed you back on the ground once you'd reached the dressing room.

The other girls gawked and cursed at the both of you before practically running over each other to get out the door.

When he rose up, you reared back and smacked him across the cheek.

"In case you forgot, I'm not your fucking girl." You hissed.

He wasn't shocked but he slowly released a breath through his nose before speaking.

“Get your shit. You can scream, yell and slap me all you want in the fuckin' truck but your comin’ with me.”

There was no point in arguing, you knew as much but at least you could let him know how you felt about it.

You gathered your belongings, tossing his jacket back at his chest and pulling a hoodie over yourself. Moving to the back door without saying a word, you let yourself out into the cool night.

You spotted his truck and got in, slamming the door making him wince.

He hauled himself into the driver's seat and started it, easing out of the parking space.

“You fucking humiliated me in there.”

“You’ll live.” He sighed. “As if you weren't about to humiliate yourself.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? At least it's honest work, unlike what you and your goddamn daddy get up to. And don't play dumb Tillman, I don't know everything, but I know enough.”

You crossed your arms and stared out the window as he kept his eyes trained on the road ahead. You expected him to snap back but he didn't say anything which only infuriated you further.

He wasn't the strong silent type; you can tell he was holding back. He'd throw his own tantrums, ending with you two clashing because you were so much alike.

“Goddamnit Gator you can't do this to me. We aren't together. You can't barge back into my life when you think I need saving. It doesn't fucking work like that!”

He slammed on the brakes, making you jolt forward and quickly pulled off to the side of the road throwing it in park.

“I can and I will! Especially when you end up in some shit hole like that! What the fuck were you thinking?” Sounding more disappointed than angry.

"I was thinking I can get enough money to finally leave this fucking hell on earth you call home behind because I don't want to be here anymore! That's what I was thinking. Anywhere is better than here. I won't have to see you, or your fucking bat shit crazy dad anymore.”

"Bunny," he tries.

"No, stop Gator. I'm not… you don't get to call me that anymore. Just drive me home. I'm done.”

He stares at your profile for a moment before releasing a heavy sigh, pulling back out into the highway. Neither of you bother speaking for a while until his calm voice cuts through the silence.

“You should leave, you know. Get out of Lehigh, hell out of the state. Get as far away from here while you still can.”

You were stunned. You'd expected him to beg and plead for you to stay, not this. Something was going on with him. You watched him concentrating on driving, but he was chewing his bottom lip.

“Is… is that what you want?” He didn't immediately answer, instead he pulled back off the road to give you his full attention, turning to face you in his seat.

“Of course that's not what I want, but if it means you'll be safe from… from all of this shit, then yes. Leave for your own good.” His eyes never left yours. You could see he was fighting his own emotions. “I love you, Bunny. I'll always fuckin’ love you until the day I die. It's just not safe.”

You could tell something was there. He wanted to tell you more.

“You… you could just come with me?” You looked up at him with pleading eyes, tears forming at your lash line threatening to spill. “Please? We could leave tonight. Somewhere no one knows us. Somewhere no one would find us.”

“Baby, I… I can't. I…” he reached out to touch you, but you quickly flinched out of his reach.

“No. This is exactly why we broke up. What the fuck was I thinking?” You laughed out, salty tears now flowing freely dripping from your chin.

He'd had enough of seeing you cry. He didn't know what else to do.

“Bunny, look at me.” His voice was stern, pulling you from your current spiraling thoughts, as he placed his hands on your cheeks. The pads of his thumbs wiping away your tears as you nuzzled into the tender touch.

“Fuck it,” he hissed. Quickly surging forward, pressing his lips to yours.

You pulled back, your hand meeting his cheek harshly. Slapping him before you realized what you'd done.

He nodded, pulling his lip between his teeth before releasing a harsh breath.

“I'm sorry… I…” you began, grabbing his collar, pulling him back and pressing your lips back to his, pushing him further back into his seat, swinging your leg around so you could straddle him.

It was messy, full of want. Tongue and teeth. Pushing and pulling at one another.

“It's okay baby, just… just take it out on me.” He mumbled, between kisses.

His hands found your hips, fingertips catching the holes of your fishnets. His touch setting you on fire as he pushed you down onto the tent already forming in his pants. Guiding you to grind against him, as you both moaned out.

“Fuck, I missed you.” You rasp out, as his lips begin trailing down your jaw, finding that juncture right below your ear, sucking a little harshly before soothing it with his tongue.

His hands trail up, pushing the hoodie up, until your barely clothed chest is on display. Squeezing your breasts in his large hands had his hips bucking up into yours. Already so eager to be inside of you.

“Fuck Bunny.” He leans back to take another look at you, slowly appraising your outfit. “I think ya’ need a reminder of who you belong to. Ya’ can't be showin’ everyone this. It's f’me. All f’me.”

“We weren't together.” Rolling your eyes, knowing it would get a rise out of him.

“Don't care.” He pulls the cups of your body suit down haphazardly, as you hear the fabric tear beneath his rough grip. “You're mine.”

“Gator!” Protesting that quickly turns into a moan, as soon as his plush lips meet your chest, sucking harshly at your nipple while he pinches and rolls the other between his finger and thumb.

He pulls off with a pop, smug grin plastered across his face.

“What was that sweet thing?”

“Oh, fuck you,” you hiss, with no real malice behind your words.

“Don't worry baby. We’ll get to that.”

You roll your eyes again, reaching a hand down to palm his very now prominent erection, eliciting a small moan cutting through his cocky demeanor.

“What's wrong baby?” Looking at him with your best doe eyed expression. “You miss me that bad?”

“You know I fuckin’ did.” He grits out, closing his eyes a moment before his hand wraps around the back of your neck pulling you down into another heated kiss.

Your hands quickly get to work as you ease back, reaching for and unlatching his belt buckle, undoing his pants and reaching in, finding him hot and heavy as you pull him free from his boxers.

Your thumb collects the precum from his slit, dragging it back down the length of his velvety shaft, as you swallow his stuttered moan.

You pull back slightly, his bottom lip between your plush ones, sucking before letting it pop back into place. You take the opportunity to catch him off guard, letting a string of saliva slip between your lips landing on the head of his cock.

“Fuck, Bunny.” He rasps out, hips pushing his dick further into your hand, searching for more friction.

He pulls at the hem of your hoodie, pulling it up and discarding it quickly onto the floor, as your hand comes back to languidly stroke him.

“Baby, please. If you keep that up, I'm gonna cum. I need you.” He didn't let you answer before his fingers slid the side of your body suit over. Bare save for your tights.

His fingertip grazes your clit as you throw your head back. He growled when the fabric caught, restricting his movements and further access.

You knew what he was thinking when he smirked up at you but before you could say anything to stop him, he pulled at the fabric, ripping it at the seam.

“Gator! What the fuck!” You hissed, before his fingers found your slit, sliding down catching at your entrance.

“I'll buy you a new pair. Promise.” You nodded, closing your eyes at the feeling, you ceased your ministrations gripping onto his shoulders for purchase. He circled your entrance, gathering slick before sliding back to your puffy clit. Relief flooded your veins as he began rubbing circles against you.

“More. I need more.” You moaned out, your cunt aching to be filled.

“Ride my fuckin’ cock then. S’all yours baby.” He said, gripping himself at the base and slapping it back against your bare pussy.

You raised up, allowing him to line himself up with your weeping entrance. As soon as his head breaches slightly, you grip his cheeks pulling his face up.

Maintaining eye contact as you slowly sank down around him. You relished in the stretch and slight sting, as he splits you open.

Pleasure begins taking over as your eyes start to roll back, releasing the grip on his face, bracing yourself against his chest. Your jaw went slack, as another wanton moan fell from your lips.

You slide down easily, inch by inch, feeling every vein and ridge as he fills you from beneath.

Your ass finally came to rest on his thighs, with his cock filling you to the brim.

He takes your palm and pushes it against your lower stomach.

“You feel me in there baby? Feel how fuckin’ deep I am?” You feel the bulge from where his cock is nestled within you, making your pussy flutter around him. “No one else could fuck ya’ that deep. Huh?”

“No… mmm… fuck, baby. God, I've missed you.” You breathed out, as you started to bounce, giving you both much needed relief.

“Yeah Bunny. That's it. Shit you feel so fuckin’ good. Missed this pussy. Missed you.” His eyes watch your tits bounce with the movement, as his hands grip your waist, helping raise your hips when you slow down just a bit.

Your bouncing begins to slow to a rhythmic grind, the thatch of hair at the base of his cock catching your clit with each pass as heat starts to pool in your lower belly.

“Keep going baby, I know your fuckin' close. I'm gonna… fuck… gonna fill my fuckin' pussy up.” He grabs your cheeks roughly, as your eyes pop open to look at him.

“Tell me baby. Whose pussy is this? Huh? Who do you belong to?” He growled out, holding you still as he begins to piston his hips, fucking up into you.

“You… it's yours… Gator! Fuck!” You scream out.

“Yeah? All mine baby…mmm…play… play with your clit f’me. I want you to cum with me Bunny.”

He watches intently as you hand trails lower, finding your aching clit as he continues to fuck you from below.

“That's it baby. Feels good, huh?” Coming out a little mocking.

“Ugh… yes… feels so fuckin' good. I'm gonna cum all over your cock.” Your fingertip glides over your nub, feeling that electricity licking up your spine.

“Yeah baby? Gonna cum f’me?” Watching his length move in and out of you creating a creamy ring at the base, a mixture of both his and your arousal nearly sending him over the edge.

“Yesssss baby. Fuck…” His cock continues to nudge that sweet spot within you with every upward thrust.

You grasp his shoulders as your orgasm begins to wash over you, dragging you under with a blinding force.

“Baby, I'm cumming… I'm… ahhh…” It was all consuming, your pussy clenches around him like a vice, as those sparks began to flicker behind your eyelids. Your legs trembled as you writhed atop him.

“That's it, sweet thing. My tight, little…mmm… pussy is grippin’ me so fuckin' good.” He continues to push into you from below, as you try to come back to yourself.

“Cum… cum in me baby.” Your voice comes out shaky, as his cock twitches at your words.

“That what you want? Huh? I'm gonna fill this pussy full.” He grips your hips with a bruising force, pushing you down onto him, somehow impossibly deeper as he begins to cum.

You wrap your arms around his neck, as your hips grind down, working him through his own release. Your pussy milking him of every last drop. His face was turned upward, jaw going slack at the feeling as he breathes out a heavy moan. You loved the fact that only you ever got to see him like this.

“Fuck, Bunny. Baby… stop… I…” His fingers tighten on your hips, halting your movements.

You both still, foreheads resting together, chests heaving trying to catch your breath.

You looked into those lovesick eyes that you've missed so much. Unsure of what to say. Unsure of where this left the two of you.

You slowly lifted yourself from his lap, as he slid from you, you quickly moved off and tried to cover yourself. Your tights were in shambles and your top was ripped. You pulled the hoodie from the floor and pulled it back over you.

He sighs, watching you as he stuffs himself back into his pants.

“No matter what I fucking do I can't stop. I still fucking love you, Gator.” You were transfixed on the window, gaze on nothing in particular. He lets those words wash over him. He never wanted it to go this way.

“I’m sorry. For everything. For not being there. For not protecting you. I should have goddamn been there instead of working that night.” You look over at him with tears in your eyes at the pain and regret emanating from his words. You know he blames himself for what happened.

“I know you're sorry but…” you closed your eyes, trying to steady your thoughts into words. “It's not your fault, Gator.”

You reach your hand out, placing it on his and squeezing gently.

“Bunny, I can't go back to pretending we don't give a shit about each other. I'm moving back home.” He fixed you with a serious gaze. Giving you no room for discussion or arguing.

“And there are going to be some nights I get home late, maybe not until morning.” He intertwined his fingers with yours and gave a reassuring squeeze. “You have to trust me when I say I am doing this for both of us.”

“You aren't going to tell me what's going on?” Your voice trembled.

“Bunny, I can't. Just please, trust me. It's all going to be okay.” There was something in the way he said it so reassuringly and unwavering.

“I trust you, Gator. I love you.” The words came out as you reached over wrapping your arms around his neck hugging him tightly to you.

“I love you, Bunny.”

In the following days, he moved his things back home as you both fell back into routine.

He rolled in some late nights, but you didn't ask any questions. He would come home and crawl into bed, pulling you into him, just like tonight.

You'd heard him enter, as a small smile crept at the corners of your lips when his arm wound around your waist with his warm chest to your back. His face buried into your neck, freshly washed hair tickling at your cheek as he sighed heavily.

“You awake baby?” He whispered, lips grazing your skin.

“Yeah, can't sleep until you get home.” He smiled at your admission but his heart aches all the same.

“I have to leave early in the morning.” He kisses your shoulder before continuing. “Whatever happens, I love you.”

You knew better than to ask what he meant. You just closed your eyes, praying to whoever might listen that whatever tomorrow would bring he'd come back home to you.

“I love you too.” You whispered through the dark, as the two of you held each other tight.

-

True to his word, his alarm blared before the sun rose, startling you both awake.

You'd followed him to the kitchen, watching his every move. Boxers slung low in his hips with his hair messy from sleep as your eyes drank in every detail.

“Baby, you didn't have to get up with me.” He chided, back of his knuckles running across your cheek as he sat beside you on the couch.

You curled into him, wrapping your arms around his torso, as he draped his over you resting his hand on your hip.

“Wanted to be with you.” Mumbling from your position, your head resting on his chest. He chuckled into his coffee before taking a sip.

“Whatever it is, you could just stay home. You don't have to go.” You muttered, grip on his waist tightening.

“I wish I could.” He kissed the top of your head, basking in warmth and love that he'd never had from anyone before you. Never thought he would be worthy of it, if he was being honest with himself. If he could bottle this moment and take it with him, he'd never ask for anything more.

He truly loves you more than anything in the world and reminds himself that this is for you. The both of you.

You stayed close to him until he practically had to push you off of him to head out, although reluctantly.

Once he laced his boots, he wrapped his arms around you one last time as you did the same, his hand rubbed your back with his lips pressed to your temple.

“I love you Bunny, but I've got to go baby.”

You hesitantly pull away, as he gathers his vest, slipping it over his shoulders.

“Be careful. I love you.” Saying it as he took his leave. You watched from the kitchen window as his truck left the driveway, taillights disappearing down the road.

You wouldn't be able to go back to sleep, so you began getting ready for your shift at the bar. Henry was more than happy to give you your old job back after Gator made it impossible to go back to the Tender Trap with his rescue mission.

It was one of those days that he didn't text very much which usually meant it was a Roy’s business kind of day, always leaving you on edge.

Your shift was going smoothly, which seemed to improve your mood. You checked your phone at break to find a missed call from Gator.

He'd left a voicemail, that you immediately began to play.

“Hey Bunny, I know you're working but I wish I could have caught you. Baby, I know I've been quiet about everything and I'm sorry. Just know that whatever goes down today that I love you. I just wanted you to know that, and… (muffled background noise) shit … I've got to go.”

It caught you off guard. You sat there looking at the phone in your hand, as you swallowed a lump you hadn't realized was caught in your throat.

“What the fuck?” You breathed out.

You dialed his number, but it went straight to voicemail. Your heart rate kicked up with your mind visiting the worst possibilities.

You sent him a quick text hoping he would see it and put some of your worry at ease.

Baby, please call me back when you get this. I love you.

You shoved it back into your apron pocket making sure it was on vibrate making your way back into the bar.

You made your rounds checking tables, as you heard sirens approach, snapping your head up to watch five black unmarked SUVs pass by quickly headed East.

It caught the attention of the entire bar; everyone was silent for a beat as they watched.

“What the hell was that?” Henry, cutting through the quiet.

“I don't know, but it doesn't look good.” You watched them until they disappeared down the road and out of sight.

Andy burst through the door a few moments later, making a beeline straight for you. Looking a little worse for wear, color drained from his face aside from his flushed cheeks. When he'd gotten closer you noticed a cut on his left eyebrow.

“Y/N! Something's going down at the ranch. I think Roy's finally lost his goddamn mind. Feds are headed over there.” He rushed out, breathless as if he'd run all the way here.

So, this was it. His unwillingness to answer questions and sneaking around. It started to make sense. Something big went down and he's known about it, keeping you in the dark.

Gator, what the fuck have you done?

[thatdeadaquarius]

m thinkin abt the “blunt vs flowery” language thing and…… in the year of our lord 2023, i don't even want to imagine how far back we'd have to go in genshins timeline until we see ‘hey shawty' written on a cave wall-

you try to be better about it, sometimes, using only the fanciest words and the most floral of tones, but all you ever succeed in doing is giving zhongli flashbacks to the archon war-

in the same vein: modern humor. would literally make them think "is this some sort of divine joke im too mortal to understand?" except even the archons need to cite sources on why a piece of bread falling over would be funny- maybe you slip sometimes, but you only ever get halfway through like “i’m neurodivergent and a minor” before you realize they don’t know what that means— “what if i had blue hair and pronouns” but they’re just sitting there like… doesn’t everybody have pronouns….? and kaeya has blue hair- are you implying he’s divine? what about chongyun?? xingqiu??????

anyway um. this is me bringing up my unfortunate (but very funny) habit of saying “i’ll boil you like soup” whenever i’m mildly inconvenienced and hoping it triggers Thoughts about the casual/slang threats we make and how they cope

sorry if this reads incoherently it’s 1am for me rn— also i’m debating becoming a regular anon here, are your applications open? 👉👈

SORRY IF I RAN U OFF BY NOT REPLYING QUICKLY!! BUT I’D LOVE TO HAVE LABELLED ANONS! I’ve already added some taken name I could see in my mailbox so check the pinned post and choose whatever isn’t taken! phrase or emoji, etc.! :)

this isnt super long bc ur stuff seemed chill on its own/idk what I could add! So I just focused on one aspect

gif is literally everyone reacting to you trying to speak “flowery” like them lol

ALSO u guys probably dont remember bc I took so long but I’m still writing/going to post that Blunt Lang. AU Fanfic One-Shot! so here’s some quick headcanons ill add on ive got anon!!

No TWs/Content Warnings. SFW.

so this was gonna be chill but-

BESDIES RANDOM SHIT LIKE MEME REFERENCES

THAT WONT MAKE SENSE TO THEM BC INHERENT INTERNET/DIGITAL UNDERSTANDING NEEDED

WHAT IF ALL UR JOKES OR REFERENCES ARE QUITE LITERALLY, ANCIENT??

like anon said about even the archons having to pull out sources/cite your stuff to understand it, like finding really old tablets/scrolls/carved wall words 😭

u giving Zhongli a history lesson/brush up LMAO

If ur annoyed at them u just need to make more jokes, leave em scrambling for their pocket notes LOL

I like to think since you sound the OLDEST

that the ancient shit like Phanes/Four Shades/Seven Sovereigns are the closest in speech

(look theyre all alive and shit for my genshin, goddamit i still gotta tell u guys abt my genshin fill-in lore au)

and they’re closer to the “beginning of history” in teyvat so theyd get more references

theyd literally understand u the best and they like, all in the Abyss or like deep in Teyvat,

so u just casually strolling up to Azdaha’s place instead like

“How’s your day been Azhy?”

“Same as the days many before, my lord. How are thee?”

“Good enough, hey, why don’t I bring some food from my old world by that I’ve made for you to try out? Something new, y’know?”

camera pan left to see Zhongli looking up, then back down as he scribbles notes trying to better understand, Xiao has crossed his arms and is squinting, Ganyu is behind Zhongli and is trying to peek over his shoulder, Cloud Retainer and other adepti have like hidden nearby to overhear lol

♤

FLASHBACKS FOR ZHONGLI-

HE’S OVER HERE LIKE

“Please do not disturb your countenance my Wànsuìyé, the vernacular is pleasant to mine ears and sufficient for speech.”

“I shall, uh, try my best Zhongli, thought I know ye have- wait- thy have? Whatever, accepted it, I shall keep attempting to better match thee!”

HIS FACE-

He’s literally just → 😰😣💀

(flashback to at least 1 really ancient/old god he had to fight for his life against, they were the hardest battle he’s ever faced, and Azhdaha was helping him by that point too, so it wasn’t even like he won alone… rip zhongli got ptsd)

He keeps trying to subtly stop you from practicing it, he also desperately discourages others from helping you 😭

(Zhongli was about to be called Rex Lapis again when Venti was trying to get on his last nerve by constantly encouraging you to speak fancier, but in the incorrect way, at dinner with them one time)

Like that last content with them pretending not to kow each other but 5x the tension and Venti is fooling around even more so than usual lol

THANKS FOR SENDING IN YOUR IDEAS!! I FUCKING LOVE HEARING OTHER PPLS BRAINROTS OVER STUFF!! AND SORRY AGAIN IT TOOK FOREVER!! ITS BEEN A ROUGH YEAR OF UNI FOR ME/IM GRADUATING!! <333 TYSM ANON!!

Safe Travels,

💀 ♒

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonderss / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylazaa / @genshin-impacts-mee / @wholesomey-artistt / @thedevioussmirk

[velvetvexations]

i feel really selfish saying this, but i really wish there were more general trans movies with characters who aren't trans women. like, i'm really glad that they're there and there should be more, but on the other hand, its kinda all thats there? obviously there ARE movies like this, but 9 times out of 10 when there's a recommendation to go see a trans movie, its either a trans women or a character heavily implied to be a trans women there. and i'm really glad those movies are there! but i'd just wish there could be a big discussion about movie and there would be a trans man or a nonbinary person representing the community.

(this also goes for other types of media too)

i sent an ask complaining about how the majority of trans movies that the community talks mainly show trans women and i wanna take that back cause a lot of those media are shitty towards trans women. i dont think its fair to complain about that when those media are awful towards trans women. i apologize

anon of the trans ppl in media asks you can publish them! i retracted it cause im kinda emotional rn and i couldn't really remember if i was being fair or shitty

I think what you're forgetting, anon, is that while trans women are depicted badly in a lot of places - less so over the years, people mainly reference things from the previous century - there's still way more positive transfem rep than there is of anything for transmascs, and that doesn't mean transfems have it better, but as always hyper-visibility and invisibility are two sides of the same coin. It's okay for invisibility to not feel good. There should indeed be more media about transmascs.

Now I'm finally doing that. This year I made my first ever hand sewn cosplay. There are definitely mistakes, but it's pretty sturdy and I can't express the sheer sense of pride I got from wearing something I sewed myself. There are some things I wanna tweak on it, like I must have made a mistake when measuring the waistband because it's WAY too thick. But it's functional, it's accurate, and it even has a zipper! It was expensive because of course for my first ever sewing project I picked a character with a pleated skirt (you need 3x your waist in fabric and im fat which definitely adds up lmao, plus i got the fabric custom printed from a print-on-demand company) and the pleats took forever to do. But I'm so so so proud of it. I'm looking into armor crafting with EVA foam for a future cosplay, and it's intimidating but I'm really excited at the idea of working with it. I've seen so many amazing armor sets and props made with EVA foam and I can't wait to make my own. I'm thinking I'm gonna cosplay Maple from BOFURI: I Don't Want to Get Hurt, So I'll Max Out My Defense.. Then again, that might be jumping off straight into the deep end again like I did for the last cosplay since she has a GIANT shield. At least I'm sticking to her main outfit, not the one with giant angel wings lmao. I may have watched several videos on wing crafting but even I'm not brazen (or stupid) enough to try making those for only my second real cosplay lmao. Anyway this has been your regularly unscheduled cosplay info dump. Thank you for tuning in, we'll see you next time!

Ambitious! I hope it all turns out great, it sounds like a lot of big projects to have on one's plate.

My opinions are a lot more nuanced than most takes on 'shipcourse' that ive seen, but I've gathered that im generally included when people say 'proshippers dni' based on how people define it in said dnis. I'm not gonna purposefully interact with someone who obviously doesn't want me there. But that makes it frustratingly difficult to find people to follow who also believe in things like transandrophobia. It happens all too often that I find someone with great takes and go to follow them, then see that they have a dni that includes me. It especially sucks when all the other things in the dni are things like "racist" and "transphobic". I'm sorry, but I just can't see having a nuanced opinion on fiction as being on the same level as being a bigot towards others. It sucks to be put on the same level as actively hateful people because I have concerns about the normalization of censorship. I believe that when you open the doors to censoring media because of morals, you set the groundwork for things like the Hays Code. Censorship has always been disproportionately used to silence marginalized groups. I just can't get behind that, no matter how 'noble' the intentions behind it might be.

If it helps any, I'm also what one would call a pro-shipper but find the word itself beneath my dignity because I think it's ridiculous it's an argument in the first place.

[cherubispunk]

UP IN YOUR ARMS (CHAPTER ONE) -Noir!Joel Miller x AFAB!Reader

summary: The Canary Club. Illicit. Underground. Dangerous too. But nowhere near as dangerous the affair you and Joel start there.

a note from Lucy: chapter one! I'm digging my own grave here. thats all im saying. i promise it is focused on joel and the reader later in the chapter. im just setting the scene for differnt relationships in the series.

playlist

wc: 6969 (haha lol) Warnings: 18+ MDNI! DARK CONTENT! 1940s!au, no outbreak, no use of y/n, age gap (reader is in her early 20’s and Joel is in his 40s), smut. p in v sex, oral - f receiving, oral through panties, choking, groping, sexism, mentions of racism, touch starved joel, me being back on my bullshit, drinking, ,smoking, throwing fists because men are stoopid and cant talk things out, cheating on the readers part, but joel knows this and still fucks her like the horny bastad he is. *sigh*, use of pet names such as doll, cursing, ww2 references, an unhealthy relationship between reader and joel, mentions of blood, let me know if ive missed any warning out that should be tagged. 6969 words of unedited bullshit because im piss drunk and cant for the life of me edit.

series m.list | m.list

The jazz band was one of the finest groups in the city. ‘Only the finest for The Canary Club’, as Johnny had put it. 

Johnny Boy Finnick. 

Now he was a man. Played sports in college, muscular, strong arms that pinned you to the wall or mattress or table. Hands that shuffled playing cards with ease and had you screaming far after the night was over. Deep blue eyes and blonde hair that never fell out of place from its slicked back style. Not even after he had crushed someone's jaw under the weight of his pummeling, bloodlusting fist.  

Johnny made a name for himself bootlegging liquor, too young to fight in the first world war. Took over as The Boss of Boston. It’s how he got his name. Johnny Boy. Fresh faced but the heart of a ragged old man. Lost it all after the second world war, gained it back not long after. A killer with a bone deep yearning for blood, money, violence, and you. 

He sat in his pressed suit, legs parted as he leaned over to display his full flush to the table, flashing a killer smile when he collected the money off his right hand man and three more of his boys. You smiled from the bar, beads of your dress twinkling in the low light of the speakeasy, ready to waltz over with another old fashioned and drape yourself in his lap.

“Thanks, Henry.” You smiled at your oldest friend, taking the drink he had placed down in front of you on the bar. Henry was your age, 25. A boy from Hartford, Connecticut, grew up in Kansas, then moved here looking for work in a big city. Honest, hardworking. Sweeter than cherry pie. And his little brother Sam was just the cutest pip you'd ever seen. 

“No problem, Doll.” He teased, which deserved a roll of the eyes from you. 

“How many times have I asked you not to call me that?”

“This would make it…” he glanced up for a second, as if calculating within his mind, “one too many times to count.”

“Funny.” You gave him a quick bitter smile. All in good fun, clearly, for he took no offence. He just shot you a smile, running a clean rag over the bartop, collecting two glasses and wiping the rings of condensation they left upon maplewood. 

“Your man looks thirsty. Might wanna take him his drink now. Before he gets the wrong idea about me talking to ya.” You sighed, craning your head slightly to look back at Johnny who scanned the place with a scowl. It made your skin crawl the thought of his temper snapping again. Despite it, you left Henry with a playful wink his way before swanning back over, placing Johnny’s drink in front of him and a vermillon kiss to his cheek. 

Johnny sneered at the affection, wiping your lipstick stain from his cheek. All the confidence you had fell to the floor and shattered miserably. Liquid courage sloshed on the cured wood floor.

“Fuck’s sake, Doll. What you do that for?” He demanded of you, the disgust in his cruel cerulean eyes sending a chilling, agonising jolt down your spine. 

“Sorry, Johnny.” You shied away, folded your hands together, eyes on the floor.

“Ain't you gotta powder your nose or something? Go on. Piss off.” 

He was right. You’d be on soon. Drenched in the spotlight. Under the scrutinising, side cramping glare of everyone's eye. You could do with the quiet. So you shuffled off to your dressing room without a word more, holding back tears with your breath. 

In the mirror, you mourned the girl you were. Mourned the life you had before it all turned upside down. Mourned the man you fell in love with. And the monster you had no choice but to stay with. 

—

Joel was fuming. If you touched his skin you'd reel back with a scorched yelp because his blood ran hot, fast and thick under his flesh. Trust Tommy to catch himself in the web of underground crime. Always a joiner. Always a deserter too when things got heated. And who was left to untangle him from its intricate, venom snared weave? Joel ‘Gubbins’ Miller. He might as well have ‘mother to my brother’ branded on his forehead. Because that's what he was now. 

The war ended four years ago and ever since Tommy had been searching for his purpose. Preached about it round the dinner table in their grimy, mildew inhabited apartment like a preacher would his sermon. And every time it set Joel’s teeth on edge. Because he knew what came after the downfall. The pickup. 

Now, however, Joel was determined to nip this lunacy in the bud. Tear it up from the soil by the new roots. 

The Canary Club was one of the few remaining speakeasies around in Boston. To a cop it was practically a ghost of an establishment. Might as well not be there. But to a man like Joel, whose brother never stopped babbling on about the next best thing he had cooking for himself, it was as easy as pie.  

A shroud of cloud hung just above Boston’s looming buildings, teaming with the early moon to create a murky gloom over the dim city’s sin. It seemed to fill the hollow, smoggy air as they cast dark, taut shadows over the slick, grimy roads. The sky threatened rain for the third day in a row. A place that reeked of underground crime, drug rings and watered down, once bootlegged alcohol, laced with what one can only assume to be illegal too. All of that was washed down with the constant sour smell of new rain upon dirty tarmac. A city plagued and tarnished by its own rejects.The promise of work bought them in. But the lifestyle spat them back out. Chewed up and ruined by their own humanising hope.

He and his brother came in search of work. They were getting nowhere down south in Texas. On the dole and barely able to afford a loaf of bread between the two of them. Even their own mother hardly recognised her boys after the war. Said they were empty shells of men. Husks of the boys she raised. Killers. 

The woman was a pacifist at heart. And it was a trait that Joel not only saw as weak, but typical of women. Or that's what his father had socialised him into thinking. He didn't know where his father’s ideals ended and his started. As the days went by he saw more of the violence his father harboured in himself. Grimaced at the lug in the looking glass. 

Joel was no pacifist. But he didn't storm through the doors either. No gun was in hand ready to send people screaming bloody murder. That was stupid. A mistake that he knew could wind him up on the concrete in the flooded gulley with a bullet in his head where blood and water could finally mix. Instead he stole in quietly in the ambience of playing cards and a Jazz band, ordered himself a drink, and sat at the far corner of the bar where it was dimly lit. Just enough for him to see his drink and the room, but his face still remained shadowed. 

While he sipped in ponder, he took the chance to people watch. Scan the patrons for any uncanny resemblance of dear Tommy. But nothing. He seemed distracted by the careful and steady hand that polished glass after glass, though each of them were spotless before touching the rag. 

A pointless task. Some may say sisyphean. But the boy doing so knew when eyes were on him. It was a very rare occurrence if not related to his race. People of any darker colour were ogled often in these parts despite it being more accepted within the north of America. There was still divide and segregation. However, this new patron wasn't looking for Henry’s skin colour, rather contemplating how on earth a boy such as him had ended up in such a place. What connection he had to the gang. Was he like Tommy? Roped in at the side of the side of the road and choking on his remaining pride. Or in a sticky financial situation? All these questions seemed to circle like the rag in the crystal glass Henry held. 

“What’s your name, kid?” Joel asked him with an ex-smoker's voice, brow dark in the shadow. The boy looked up, eyes youthful, but they'd seen things no man should have to. 

“Henry.” He said after a beat, quick to refill Joel’s glass when it was empty besides a drop circled thin and amber in the bottom. “Yours?” Joel lifted his head, taking a sip before placing his glass back on the bartop in furrowed brow contemplation. 

“Joel.” He leaned forward on his forearms, haunched over the bar, before looking around again. “Whatcha doin’ here, Henry?” 

Henry laughed slightly, looking down at his feet before back in Joel's eyes. And what he was met with was the hollow ache of a man scarred by war. Henry’s face fell flat. 

“Working.” 

“No…I mean in Boston.”

Henry cleared his throat at the sudden, and even brash way Joel approached his question. So much that it took him a second to frown and then reply. 

“Came from Kansas. Hard for a black kid to find honest work there. Especially with a family to look out for.” His words were solemn and reflected a truth Joel knew all too well growing up down south. Even if he never lived it in his own white skin.

“You look a little young to have a kid.” 

“I don’t. I got a brother.” Joel nodded as he listened, waiting for him to go on. Which he did after a beat of silence. “Bright kid. Bright future too. He’s deaf though. Got a lot stacked against him in this world. Mom can't bring in enough to fund education for ‘im. So I stepped up.”

“No Daddy?” Joel asked and Henry shook his head. “How’d you end up here then?”

“A girl.” The look Joel gave Henry was sceptical. But the young boy was soon to put a stop to it all. “Not a girlfriend. Just a girl. We grew up in the same building. She moved up north for a life and I followed a few months later. She met a guy. A wealthy guy. And she wrote to me often of how swell Boston had been for her.”

Joel wasn't the questioning type. Neither one to beat around the bush. But Henry intrigued him. Reminded him a lot of Sarah. The challenge she had faced with the colour of her skin that he, as a white man, would never understand. He felt a guilt about it every day that flared up in the dark of night before his eyes closed for restless and futile sleep. “And this guy?”

“Him.” Henry nodded subtly over to the table of men playing cards. Poker. A game Joel knew well in the frontline and in Egypt where he fought. Him and a few others often huddled together in their own game. Nothing but the last pair of intact socks to bet on, or a single cigarette to get them through the night. Joel quit smoking the moment he got back. Knew it was something that made him unpredictable and jittery in the best of situations. “Johnny Boy Finnick. A big name in these parts.” 

Joel followed Henry’s gaze, but his attention was snagged by the unmistakable head of dark curled hair facing away from him. He knew his brother anywhere and his blood began to boil as he threw back his second drink and slammed the empty glass on the bartop. 

“Hey, man-” Henry tried, shoulders straining as he stood to attention. Joel didn't pay him any mind. Merely wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before his bar stool sharied upon the varnished wood floor. He cared not for the noise. Only the feeling he would get once his closed fist met the bone on the bridge of Tommy’s nose. 

Trumpets flailed to a stop and drums failed mid blow. The room fell silent after a chorus of gasps. 

He loved his brother. Deeply. So much it caused a chasm of a rib cracking hole in his chest every time Tommy slipped up. But he saw red now it all caught up behind his lids that blinked once. That split second of not seeing and before he had a chance to second guess, he was gripping the back of tommy;s collar and wrenching him up to his feet to deliver a shiner to the face. 

Tommy staggered back, and everyone at his table stood up with the intention to harm. Yet no one but the brawling brothers fought. As he gained his footing again, he also gained his senses, recognising Joel anywhere. 

“Joel, what the fu-” He was hardly able to finish before another shooting pain split his bottom lip open and Tommy’s mouth was filled with the taste of his own bitter blood. Blood he and Joel shared and were now shedding in a futile fight of nothing but testosterone. That was enough to send the same foul blow to his kin. Joel winced, knowing the crescent of a bruise that would bloom on his cheekbone overnight. One of Tommy’s many rings sliced his skin. He felt warmth in crimson dribble from a fresh flesh wound. 

“Hey!” One loud and bellowing voice that had the power to command a whole unit of men boomed out before neither Joel or Tommy had the chance to throw another fist. It was for the better. Any more and Joel’s knuckles would have bruised purple. A colour of shame. 

It was Johnny. And his face was stoic as he stared each brother down with a burning gaze that had even Joel’s hairs stood on end at the nape of his neck. Like an army stood to attention before the first charge. Except he didn't move. Joel knew now where he stood in the food chain of this speakeasy. And it was right at the very bottom. “You!” He pointed at Tommy. Go clean yourself up.” And Tommy went as pale as a funeral sheet before nodding meekly. His face melted from shock to shame in the blink of Joel’s very eye before he grumbled something under his breath and passed Joel with a sharp clip to his shoulder. 

It's his turn now. 

At this point you'd come out to see what the commotion was for. The walls, while thick upstairs in the printer's press, were thin in the basement. And you;d heard silence and the spit of a man as his blood splattered with spit on the floor in the doorway. 

“The fuck do you think you’re doin throwin’ fists in my god damned club for?!” He roared. And Joel had to take the duration of both inhale and exhale to get his lips and tongue to work. But the scowl on his face said it all. “Huh?!” Jonny’s nostrils flared like a spanish thoroughbred bulls’. 

“That’s my brother you got workin’ for ya. I ain't havin’ him in some shady drug ring you got goin in. I aint!” 

Jonnly was no stupid man. Hr was smart. Quick minded and knew a man with balls. But Joel also knew very little. So this one time, he took the approach of calmness, and used his usual lying tongue for truth. Any other time it would she forked like Lucifer's serpent form. But now he was a man of coolness. “Right.” Johnny nodded at him, his tone was one that could soothe a ravenous bear. But with an edge as sharp as a knife. So sharp it could slice skin in one swift swoop. “Sit down.” He commanded calmly. “Let’s get you a drink.” 

With a wave of his hand a cha was pulled out. Two heavy handed brutes shoving Joel down into a chair, an old fashioned presented to him by Henry in front of him on the maplewood table. Then Johnny addressed the room gently. Set its patrons at ease. The music played its jazzy, jolly tune once more. People spoke again.And Johnny took his seat opposite Joel. 

“Look here…” The gangster waited for Joel to give him his name. Which he did. “Joel, I appreciate a strong swing as much as the next guy. But I don't appreciate it in my establishment.” Joel nodded in understanding. His temper ashamed him. How it ran hot under his skin. Fizzled white when provoked until he saw red in rage and swung. Never blindly though. He wasn't a loose cannon like the  broken soldier stereotype enforced. Just a fractured man. 

“You’re a soldier aint ya?” “Was.” Joel said gruffly. Curtly and he brewed a stare across from Johnny.

“Oh, nah.” Johnny shook his head, swirling his drink in the crystal glass, “Once a brother in arms, always a brother in arms. The war sticks with ya. You’re a soldier.” “Fine. Yeah, I'm a soldier.” 

“I know the war. I served like you. Left a boy and came back a shell of a man. Now look at me.” Joel took a moment to calculate his motive here. Johnny’s arms stretched wide with a smirk of pure pride as he gestured to the heart of his Boston crime empire. “I got money. I got birds.” He held up his glass to Joel, “I got liquor.” then leaned forward and spoke in a grave tone, "What you got?” 

Joel swallowed harshly, unable to answer because he had nothing in reality. 

“You got a job?” He shook his head, exhaling through his nose. “No.”

“Figured. Hard finding work when all the women are competent enough to do it themselves. Fight for your country. End up on the streets. You don't die a hero like you thought you would. No one knows your name.” He scoffed, holding fingers up in air quotes around competent. It left a bitter taste of disgust in Joel’s mouth as the father of a daughter. Curled the edges of his tongue distastefully. Made him kiss his teeth to hold back the insult. “Well, people know my name.” Johnny paused again, the air grew thick between them and smouldered on their shoulders. He was squinting at Joel opposite him, sizing him up. Joel was rugged. A strong build and most likely a strong character too. Something Johnny could always do with having in abundance. And so when the devil's own smirk curled at his lip, Joel felt a question brewing at the very tip of his tongue. One that would change his life for better or worse. Regardless of it he declined or accepted. “And they could know yours too.”

Joel didn't want to admit it for the sake of his crumbling pride, but the man had it all. Even a good five years his junior, the man made a living for himself. Picked himself up from the dirt and used bloodshed and bodies for the foundations. 

“I could use a guy like you–”

“No.” Joel put his offer down flat before it had the chance to meet the air. 

“Hear me out.” He said calmly, and held up a hand, “A roof over your head. A steady income. A little extra dough in ya pocket?” Johnny rubbed his thumb and index finger together in the older man's face. An action to which Joel’s nostrils flared. It was embarrassing to even mull over. “Come on,” Johnny smirked. “Give it a go.” 

The southerner’s lips pursed, as if he was thinking it over. Which he was. But to what lengths would he go? Sure, Joel was conditioned in a short few months to kill. He was good at it. Mowed down men on the frontline like clockwork. And his trigger finger twitched at the thought of holding that power once more. But that didn't mean he was a man without morals. The men’s blood he;d coat his hands in had families. They were someone's son. Probably someone's husband or father. Joel knew the hollow ache loss left. The imprint of a shadow it left. The chasm ripped in your chest. Loss felt like an agonising, deep, helpless pit. But here was Johnny, throwing him a rope 

“You know, you’re right. This ain't the time to talk this over.” Johnny held his hands up and leaned back in his seat before they clapped back in his lap. Now you were at Johnny’s side once more. But the figure of Joel in his chair had something jumping in your bones. Tongue curling to taste his very words.  “Dollface here will patch you up.” 

You raised a brow, giving the two of them a dirty look. “Excuse me? Do I look like a nurse?” You shut up when Johnny glared. Swallowed your pride, and sighed inwardly. You both hated and loved the power he held over you. As much as you despised it at times, Johnny had your being wrapped around his finger like a puppeteer holds his strings. And tightly. You felt his tug at the strain in your limbs. 

“And you come back here tomorrow. We’ll talk in my office over a drink and a cigar. A good fucking drink.” 

—

Joel swallowed harshly when he saw you. Eyes, wide and decorated by dark mascara lashes, white liner on lower waterlines, face of a doll like Johnny’s nickname for you suggested. The red lipstick you had re-applied moments prior was glossy, inviting him to stumble over velvet words he would hear you speak. Lean closer so the blood red could graze the shell of his ear while you would whisper a dirty joke at him. 

He followed as you led him down a corridor off to the other side of the bar. Your dress seemed fit for hypnotising him into your bidding. Surely you were a siren who climbed the strats of a pier of the east coast and arrived here. Something about the beauty you wielded was not the everyday sort. It was the type you see women bend over backwards to achieve even a glimmer of for their man who came back after work. He could see himself now. Loosening his tie, hanging up his coat and hat. Leaving his briefcase and sanity at the door to see you in a pinafore and pin curls. Pretty gingham dress. He’d sit at the table and either be presented by you or a meal for his satiation. He’d prefer to devour the sweetness between your legs. 

Your hand in front of his face had his attention now. Fingers snapping. Nails manicured and painted the same shade as your lipstick. 

“Hey, you listening?” You asked, face set into displeasure. Joel straightened as he cleared his throat.

“What?” His tone was gruff and he mirrored your expression to you. His southern accent catching you off guard, but is intriguing. 

“I said sit down.” 

Joel looked over at the chair set at a vanity mirror you gestured to with an extended arm. The second time he had been asked to be seated. The second time he obeyed. 

You took your time to wet a washcloth in the small basin in the corner with warm water. Took the bottle of whiskey you stashed last week from the bottom of a rickety chest of drawers. Joel watched you in the mirror, eyes narrowed a fraction to make sure you were of no threat to him. He knew he could take you easily. In more ways than one. The power imbalance had his length twitching in his trousers. 

Your hands weren't gentle as you sat on the vanity between his legs. You took his stubbled chin in your grasp and jerked his head up into the light, tilting it to take a closer look at the gash. 

“Stay still.” You said curtly, holding the rag to the opening of the bottle and wetting it. You then pressed it over the pad of your finger. The initial touch made his teeth bare at you and a hiss to escape his mouth. His large wrist enclosing around yours to make you stop. “I said,” And you yanked your wrist from his hold, “stay still.” 

He did as he was told again. Silence setting his between the odd hiss from him and twitch of muscle under weathered skin. The crows feet at the side of his eyes were old. He clearly had lost his smile to something in the past. But you didn't ask, only wondered as you wiped the dried blood clean from his wound. “Fuckin grown man and you cant take a little sting of a cut.” You mumbled under your breath to yourself in amusement. Followed by a small huff of dry laugh.

“Maybe if you weren't digging your fingers into a fresh bruise I wouldn’t be wincin’.” You shot him a look and let go.

“All done.” And you held up your hands for good measure. 

“What are you doing here anyway?” You asked, tossing the rag aside and crossing your arms. He reached for the whiskey and took a large gulp, pursing his lips at the slow burn in the back of his throat. 

“None of your business.” 

“What’s your name?”

“You know my name.” He stated lowly. He was right. But you found a sick satisfaction in having any man you liked bend to your will. Answer any question you so pleased to hear the answer to. 

His bones groaned as he stood up from the chair. Your coat draped over the back of it fell to the floor and you swiftly got up to swipe it from the floor and hand it on the hook on the back of the door before pressing your back to it and facing him. Blocking his exit.  “Move.”

“Tell me your name.” You crossed your arms, jutting your chin up at him. 

“Don’t make me move you, princess.”

“Tell me your name.” 

Joel bit his tongue, the vein in his neck starting to pulse visibly under his skin that once again went hot. 

“Why do you wanna know?”

“Because I’m nosy.” You smiled, sarcastic and saccharine. “And i want to know the name i’ll be moaning tonight as i touch myself under the covers.” 

“Fuckin-” His jaw ticked, nostrils flared in his disdain. You kept your smile as he pinched the bridge of his nose with a small guttural noise from the back of his throat. A headache was starting to coil behind the strain of his eyes. “Joel.” And he looked back up at you. It still wasn't enough “Miller.” Your smile was genuine this time, just as sweet. You uncrossed your arms, standing up straight from the door to hold out your hand and give him your name in return. He rolled his eyes, reaching for the handle and swerving you. He pulled the door but you used your body weight to slam it shut with your back again. A loud slam and a creak of protest from its hinges.

“Where are you from, Joel?” 

“Is this a game to you, girl?” Joel growled. 

“Yes.” The smile you had was sly. Foxy. A  single finger ran down his chest and dared to slip just under his shirt’s collar. “I like games.”

“You don't wanna do that.” He warned, dark eyes burning you up inside from your very core. It was the look of a man’s lust that had been left untouched, unloved for quite some time now. It strained at his morality. But who were you to give up the warning and keen hand of a man who so desperately needed a release to the coiling tension of his shoulders. You saw it. Felt it in the rhythmic yet chaotic hammer of his heart against his ribs. As if it were trying with all its might not to break his own bones clean in two and lurch from its enclosure of flesh and bone. 

“And why not?” This was a devils game of chess. Careful calculated words from loose tongues and taking each other's moves in as you exhaled a counter. And oy had him three moves from checkmate. His king weak in defence, your advances stronger  by each word that fell into his eras from your red painted, enticing lips. He could feel his limbs being string up for you to pull at like a puppeteer in an advanced level of her craft. But he was no kind man. His words were even less forgiving than his disposition. 

“Because I aint a kind man. Haven't been for a long while. And I know types of things a man like me would wanna do to a pretty girl like you.” 

“I doubt it would be anything new.” You cooed, watching your finger as it traced a line lower over his buttons,  stopping at the top of his belt buckle and just shy of teasing at the growing bulge in his trousers. 

The tension between you was thicker than molasses. And it seeped through the cracks of his better judgement to the part of him that hungered for touch. That was ravenous for a single one of your fingers. 

“I don't think Johnny would like that.” 

“And I didnt like the way he spoke to me earlier.” You pouted. The way a child would when dined a sweet treat before dinnertime. 

“That aint a good reason to start an affair with me. Because when i get my grubby hands on ya there ain't no going back, doll.” 

His words were enticing you more. To have a man obsessing over your body. Your curves. Your voice singing his name as he fucked you dirtier than anyone into anything. Joel was that man now. He knew it in the very marrow of your bones that you were trouble. His new little minx. So it was no surprise when his lips crushed yours under the full weight of his sexual frustration. 

It was needy. Heated. A clashing of tongues and teeth as he pressed you with his entire simmering being into the wood of the door. His bulge grinding desperately into your thich that parted his legs. 

His tongue swiped your lower lip before drawing it back between his teeth for him to suckle on until it tingled deliciously. He was jealous with his touches. Groping your hips as the sating of your dress that crumpled to the floor. It revealed sweet sweet skin. Skin Joel wasted no time in delving in for the first damning lick. A pleasure to every sense. Sight, taste, touch, smell, sound. 

Heavy breaths were exhaled into the dewy skin of your clavicle, tongue languidly sliding over the high points of your collarbones and enclosing in a sharp suck over the skin just above your right breast. It sent a chorus of heavenly sinful, light and airy monas from your mouth and floated into his ears. His lips were chapped and weathered in contrast to the silk smooth of your skin. It was delightful. 

He went lower, got to his knees as he drank up the sense of a woman's skin for the first time in years. This was the taste of true damnation. He was past the opening of hell's gates and somehow found heaven in the parting of your thighs down the newly trodden path of your navel. 

He pressed his open mouth to your clothed cunt, tasted the seeping slick you gave him on his tongue and gluttonously inhaled your musk right at the apex of your thighs. Your fingers tangled into the curls of his messy, wind wrecked hair. Keening your hips up to press into the curve of his aquiline nose, and riding the burning in the pit of your belly starting to grow. Your head fell back against the door. Your mouth unhinged and letting out moan after sigh after mewl of his name. His face buried between the meat of your thighs as his hands gripped your asscheeks and spread them so he could push his face deeper between your folds. Your underwear drenched and ruined from your wetness and his spit while he tongued your hole through the flimsy lace. 

You pulled him back, smirked at the wreck he was with his lips sticky and shiny in the light of your dressing room. To then pull him up to your lips so you could curl your tongue into his mouth and taste yourself on him. It’s where the taste belonged. Among notes of whiskey and chewing tobacco and drugstore gum. 

His large hands pawed at your hips once more, listing you so your legs could wrap obediently round his waist. That's how it worked now. He wanted, you gave. And willingly like the sounds that fell into his motu like sweet, freshly harvested honey. Ut had the feel of money. Powerful and green like spring leaves. But with the warning of rotting when summer meets its tragic and fatal end. It was like trying to cross a canyon with a broken limb. Near impossible. The last sip of a drink that would ensure drunken and slurred movements. It took even the nest of a man his entirety to deny you, But deep down, Joel was a weak man. Strong in body, maybe mind too. But weak in soul. And he gave in with the cashing of your back against the vanity mirror. 

He had his faults. He knew that. And you did too. It had you wondering how a man like Joel loves. Did he change for his chosen lover? Or was he just as rough a callus as he was with everyone else. Would he destroy and ache and leave you wondering when your body would be at his whim next and how he would bend it to his will. Or would he let you lean into his embrace as he kissed down the column of your throat to the holy entitled epiphany between your thighs. The glisten of your hot cunt aching to be touched by anything. His everything. 

So you reached for his belt. So you undid it along with his buttons to touch his heated skin, To feel the blood flow beneath as the strain of each of his muscles. You ran a hand across his chest and he let his head fall back as a woman touched him for the first time as a man of war. A veteran.

He felt like he had been cast in gold by the sun for the first time in his life. Shed his skin for a new layer reserved just for you. As if he was thanking whatever resided up there for you. He was no believer in god, but, Jesus Christ, he was starting to believe in some form of higher power. You were proof that there was a blessing for him to steal away from the world. It was in your sound. Your taste. Your touch. It beckoned him the way your finger did, curling into the collar of his shirt to clash your lips with his and let. He had no autonomy over the moan that fell into his mouth where it festered at the back of his throat and was swallowed with a desperate and heady inhale. 

You trod roads into his skin with your touch. Ones he knew he would follow later that night in an erotomaniac’s pleasure. And you finally pulled his length free from his trousers. Your underwear was soon to follow and your slick aided the way he managed to sink so smoothly into your sopping heat. A squeeze he would commit to memory and savour like the taste of fresh and ripe fruit. Because you were. Fresh and youthful in age. Ready to be devoured to the core as a gleaning red apple would be. The very same one that even took in the garden of eden. Temptation. Fruit flesh to signify sin. 

He took his first bite out of you with a satisfying crunch. And keep devouring until there was nothing left but the remnants of your birth, ready to be resurrected, grown again in the form of a new tree. 

He stilled once he bottomed out, letting himself bask in the moment. The first time he was nestled deeply in the walls of your cunt. He heard your quiet whimpers for him to move. Felt the way your pert nipples brushed his sweat slicked skin. It was a ghost of a memory the last time he felt this. The heat of someone in the throes of intimacy. And it was all over him. It was the very air he wes starved of. The past was all paled in comparison because of the way your hips bucked pathetically to feel his thrust inside you. To get him going. No one had needed him this rawly, this undignifying before. 

A single hand clamped over your mouth, stilling your movements. He felt the tickle of your exhale against the pinky finger. 

“Stay still…” He commended with a swallowed down groan when you clenched around him, ironically repeating your words from earlier.

You looked at him. The glazed over, far away look in his eyes. His voice low and laden in a gravelly tone that came from the very back of his throat. You pulled him forward to lick it out again with your tongue when his hand fell to your throat. It gave a warning squeeze. And you once again canted your hips in protest. 

This time he moved. And it was like poetry as it hit that toe curling spot inside you. Made your eyes close in blissful ignorance of what this would do to you. YOu slick drooling from your cunt onto his shaft until it shined at his very base and dripped down his heavy balls. 

His hand squeezed your throat tighter. Had you yelling for him in a suppressed squeal. His other hand clamped around your mouth for you to moan into. Your words of praise lost on his ears, listened to by his palm instead. Every devil was fuelling this act of infidelity. This act of carnal sin you both needed. Ut unwound your bones, but had the coil in your belly cramping with each swift buck of his hips. 

You met his swift thrusts in a desperate attempt to be of use to him. Finding it hard to breathe, yet alone Your cunt spasmed delectably. Searching for a new feeling. A feeling primal and dirty as the streets of Boston. Your eyes rolled back in your head as your legs trembled while he went on, giving you something you would remember from this day forward, A sentence of being binded to him.

You were in the arms of the devil himself. St his ,ercy. Nsd nothing felt more thrilling than the pleasure that rolled at a landslide's power and pace down your spine into your core. 

Another squeeze round your throat. Another unhinged moan into his hand. He snarled, baring his teeth at you before pressing his face into the crook of your neck and biting down. Your eyes closed and painted a picture of stars. You were close to seeing angels by now and the deep ache of pleasure grappled your flesh and had goosebumps flicking up to attention over your flesh.

His chest heaved with each curl of his hips. Your exhales heavier by the second while you moaned his name like a mantra to his hand. His teeth imprinted on your back like a randhishing. A mark of the sin that was witnessed by the two of you that day. Your voice was shrill. A repeated ‘Joel! Joel! Joel!’

“Fuck, yeah, sing f’me doll. Sing f’me. Let em know who’s doin’ this to you.” He panted in vain. “Tell me.” “Feels so good–”

“Again.” He demanded. 

“Feels so good! Too good!” 

And it was. He had you burning white hot at the end of an illicit teather. You gripped his back with talons of hellbirds. Clawing at his shirt clad back. The wings of hi shoulderbales. The snake length of his spine. 

“That’s it. Tell ‘em. Tell me! Tell me in making you feel fuckin’ good.” 

“You are. Harder Joel.” His pace was like poetry. Ripped you in tow and had you displayed to him. One knee was hooked over his hunched shoulder, spine curled as his forehead pressed to yours. `The new angle had you singing like a songbird. High and melodic in tune.  Your kitten heel slipping off and clattering to the floor without a second thought. The head of his cock nipped your cervix. The lewd wet sounds of your pussy smothering him in your slick and your shared moans filled the room. Everything of you was his now. You couldn't even think of giving this up to Johnny. Yes, he fucked you dirty. But Joel fucked you like it was his sole purppose of living. Like it was what gave him life. 

You fell. You fell as soon as you hit your climax with a mewling moan that ended Joel right there and then. Coming together with heavy breaths and shaking, trembling chests. His release inside of you, strings of his come smearing you in him. Marking you for later. Well and truly ruined for any other warm body that dared to slip into your sheets. 

But falling was not the problem. Only when you hit the ground is what causes all the grief. And the look you shared once the gold haze of afterglow faded was what confirmed this. 

What have you done? How would you live without this?

[deadlykitten-404]

Okay im sure people have done this before, but its time to mash together the hyperfixations, here's my take on stp Princesses x tma Fears

Title explains it ig, but i just got through the episode where gerry explains the fears to jon, so i dont feel too spoiled to reference the wiki, so here's the fears i think each of the slay the princess routes align with/are avatars of

(for the sake of post length and potential spoilers, pairings are under the cut. also ive color coded them for fun and bc its easier for me to read, i apologize if its straining, i can remove it)

Chapter 2 Princesses:

Damsel - The Stranger - She seems normal, until you dig deeper into who "she" is, and she devolves into a more and more uncanny version of herself until she gets yoinked

Prisoner - The Lonely - This one is weird, because the Princess is pretty resigned in her fate, regardless of what route you take. Having said that, I was torn between Buried and Lonely, but ultimately chose Lonely since Prisoner isn't exactly worried about being trapped (she's okay with both being decapitated and with waiting it out). She feels more Lonely, since her instance is self-inflicted, she had to kill Quiet so they could move on, which in turn trapped her even more than Chapter 1.

Witch - The Desolation - This one is more emotional than Desolation is usually thought of, but the Witch is convinced that after Quiet's actions in Chapter 1 his only intention is to break her down further. Additionally, she's fine with killing him regardless of what that means for her because then it will feel like revenge (unless you guilt trip her lol)

Beast - The Hunt - This one's easy, her entire goal is to eat Quiet lol

Adversary - The Slaughter - This one was also difficult, since many of the Fears are tied to "senseless" killing, and Adversary just wants a good fight. She's more of a mma fighter than a murderer, but her main motivation is still murder, though definitely in more of a human way than an animalistic way, so she went to Slaughter.

Tower - The Web - Her entire thing is manipulation, she doesn't even want to bloody her own hands if she can help it.

Razor - The Slaughter - Unlike Adversary, Razor does find joy in senseless killing, so she fits right in with Slaughter (I did also consider Hunt, but her goal isn't it work down the player, just to stab him) (also this is applied to "No Way Out" and "The Empty Cup" since they're just continuations of Razor and not their own Princesses)

Stranger - The Spiral - i know, it seems like she would go to the Stranger, but she actually knows exactly who she is, just not why. In Chapter 1, she acts more like fractions of herself, her world descending into madness. Her madness leads her to not know who she is, not the other way around (if it was that would lend closer to Stranger).

Spectre - The Lonely - Spectre is one of the least aggressive, and doesn't really align with many of the other fears, but her personal fear is being trapped again after getting so close to getting out.

Nightmare - The Lonely - Like Spectre, her entire motivation is centered in being left behind after being teased with being released, her pre-death monologue is an increasingly more desperate "Let me out," scared of being left behind again (though her outward motivation aligns more with Slaughter, with wanting to spread fear and terror for fun).

Chapter 3 Princesses:

Grey (Burned) - The Desolation - Both for the fire aspect, and the bodily destruction. Burned Grey doesn't really have much malice, but the only thing that she knows is to destroy to try to get what she wants

Grey (Drowned) - The Vast - Unfortunately there isn't really a Fear connected to revenge, so Vast works best with Drowned Grey since its connected to deep ocean. Ironically, it's one of the shallower connections, but Drowned Grey is made up of layers of frustration, betrayal, and anger, which is more like sadness than fear (although she is more unsettling than Burned Grey).

Thorn - The Buried - Thorn is also tricky, since at this point she's basically just tired, not scared or threatening. I've given her to Buried since she is physically trapped, and wants to get out but doesn't trust the Quiet to actually let her out because of their rocky past.

Wild - The Eye - Wild is really the only one that doesn't quite align with a Fear. I was going to assign her to Vast, since Shifty describes her as endless, but I settled on Eye since she is inherently non-aggressive, knows more because she's one with Quiet, and can locate the Narrator when the others aren't aware of him. I guess she also aligns with Slaughter since the only thing she expresses fear of is pain, but a few others get Slaughter, so I've given her to the Eye.

Den - The Hunt - Just like the Beast, but even more. She's only an animal at this point, and her only goal is to kill and eat.

The Eye of the Needle - The Slaughter - Like the Den, (and Razor, to a more direct extent), Needle is an expansion of Adversary, so her goal doesn't change, she's just more focused. This form fits Slaughter a bit more though, since there are some routes where she'll attack you outright.

Fury - The Desolation - Though Fury is also an extension of Adversary, she's more concerned with the means of death than the actual killing (I'm also not keeping her under Web, since she is now going for Quiet directly instead of trying to manipulate him). She doesn't just want to kill Quiet, she wants it to hurt.

Apotheosis - The Web - Unlike Fury, Apotheosis gets to keep Web since she isn't concerned about killing Quiet, but she does now have infinite power. Also potentially The Vast, but that's purely because of her physical size.

Wraith - The Web - While Adversary has the emotional manipulation, Wraith has the physical manipulation. (I also considered The End because I hadn't assigned any Princesses to The End, but this was purely because she's a skeleton, so if you want a Princess a Fear, feel free to associate her with The End).

The Moment of Clarity - The Lonely - Like her prior counterparts, Clarity just craves companionship so inherently that her fear leads her to violence.

Well, that's all of them! To anyone that read through this, thanks! Might end up doing this with the Voices as well, though they would likely end up just aligning with whatever Fear is assigned to the Princess that causes them.

Of the Princesses (to me), none align with The Corruption (though the devs did say that the Stranger started as a bug princess, so i guess she's Corruption in spirit), The Dark, The End, or The Flesh.

[spacedlexi]

if you had to pinpoint some kind of source, what caused you to "level up" in terms of art? like what do you think propelled you from being a beginner or intermediate artist to being a more advanced artist?

definitely more than one source!! but the two most important things are: study references and keep drawing!!

i dont do as many studies as i should 💀 but every time i do my eye definitely improves. using pose references, looking at photos for color palettes, studying shot composition of shows and movies i like. i really recommend doing quick gesture drawings to warm up. in class we would do 10 second, 30 second, 1 minute, 5 minutes, 10 minutes for warming up (i really need to get back to doing this 💀). portrait studies are also good for learning face structure

line of action is the site i use for gesture drawings. if you dont know what gesture drawings are its about focusing on the form and movement of the body without focusing on details too much. you want to keep your lines long and flowing no short sketchy lines. its why its a good way to warm up as well it encourages you to put your whole arm into it (as you should, its not good to draw from the wrist its bad for your wrist anyway)

but even more important than studies (which are Very important) is to just keep drawing!! you improve with every piece even if you hate what you drew (you hating it is you recognizing something isnt Right and maybe youll figure it out next time! this is when studies help). dont feel like you Have to draw a certain way either. ive basically eliminated line work from my art and im much happier for it (i prefer sketchier lines and its just made me a cleaner draftsman overall. my actual "sketches" now are basically just thumbnails so i dont get lost in the details (and if i do i end up liking the sketch more))

i feel like i really "leveled up" in the past couple years and that was because i was forced to do a lot of studies for my portfolio 💀 but also i just kept drawing and let myself experiment with how i Wanted to draw. as soon as i dropped any notions about what my art "had" to be it was like everything changed and now ive developed a style i feel comfortable and confident with :) and when i look back at my old art that i still like, i can see a version of my current style in there like it was always in there deep down and i finally just let it Be

good luck on your art journey anon!! be kind to yourself and just keep going! we all move at our own pace

[beautifulpersonpeach]

BPP, am really really interested to read your thoughts on Seven!

*

Ask 2: Hey bpp, can i be honest?? Ive been checked out of the fandom but still keep track of any music releases. So i didnt know abt any rumors abt 7. Imagine me being kind of disappointed that it’s another english song from jk when i watched the mv😅 it feels like his most promoted songs since last year has been all eng song… idk i wanted & expted something diff… i didnt like l&r, dreamers and now 7… it’s back to back lol. Tbf i didnt like My You too and thats in korean. At least not enough to listen!again after the first listen.

Im happy that still with you is finally on spotify tho. I’ll still be waiting excited for his album whenever it comes out. Hopefully ill find something i like in it!!

**

[BPP Note: Both asks above were sent before my "I don't like it..." post. The asks posted below were sent afterwards.]

**

Ask 3:

Same here

All the hype didn't matched with the song

1. rest members songs had so much depth and substance to it while this was the cliche boy chasing a girl song. Like we always dont need deep songs but the quality could be so much better. This was like just another pop song.

I think I'll put this on same level as BAD DECISIONS. But for bad decisions, atleast the chorus was staying on my mind while for this nothing was catchy enough for us to humm. Just because it's JK it will get hype but otherwise it's so generic. I think I liked LEFT and RIGHT way better than Seven. Even the rap portion felt so unnecessary and boring.

2. MV was kinda nice because of the production but concept was too shallow, the stalking and chasing was so outdated. In my country we have like 9293928843837 MVs in this same concept that not many make the same theme songs again.

3. The choreography. We haven't seen the full version. But for tiktok they do the highlight portions if that's so mediocre idk how rest will be. It was again giving the same mediocre showing off choreography and for me backdancers ruined it with their awkward moves.

4. they wanted this song to be played everywhere around the world. But there was nothing catchy enough to attract gp or go viral on tiktok, even if we sped it up. The only way to make everyone listen is to shove it down their throat but doing payola. But idk if investing in payola is worthy for the song. I also doubt the longietivity, as for me it was boring after 2 listens. I'll rather listen Like Crazy or wildflower or closer 20 times than listening this once.

5. I HOPE he'll bring something fresh to the table for his album and don't involve this mediocre producers who uses the same formula and same superstar persona to make a song successful. He is so much talented to sing a song which is so rich in melody and lyrics. And he can produce way better songs by himself.

Prolly a 4/10 for me

*

Ask 4: troye sivan's rush (which also came out last night) is exactly what I wish Seven was. I don't mean that in a 'I expect the things JK to make to be gay' way just in the way it's a fun, very danceable, sexy summer song that doesn't pull its punches. Something about seven feels too run through a commercial sanitizer a few times, even with the explicit lyrics.

***

Hi Anon(s),

Jungkook likes to fuck.

Rather, Andrew Watt likes to fuck and thinks Jungkook can relate.

JK has been talking about wanting to show more mature and explicit sides of himself for a good long while now. So I’m glad he’s finally gotten to do that, confirming for us why he keeps getting noise complaints from his neighbours since the mattresses all over his apartment don't help.

BTS has made songs explicitly referring to sex before (though it's been mostly the rapline doing so). So it's nothing new but I guess it's cool JK gets to share with us that he too has sex.

The question I posed to my friends immediately after watching the MV is, “Do you know who's been doing A&R for BigHit since 2020? I really need to know who is doing A&R for BigHit in America because they’ve been doing an appalling job lately. I'm starting to wonder if it's an inside job cause this song is kinda ass.”

That was me ~11 hours ago.

I didn’t like the song.

I’ve streamed Seven about 20 times since then I think, took a break from the song for a few hours, watched his GMA performance, caught a few minutes of the Wlive, then listened to it again just before writing this post and…

I still don’t like it.

Jungkook did a good job on the song, Latto's verse wasn't terrible, and while the song itself isn’t bad… the song isn’t good either.

It’s painfully, and at this point it’s a pattern so I have to add, predictably, mediocre.

Reserving judgement for the album, but Anons, I agree with you for the most part. The suits at BigHit are trying but they are woefully out of touch with the reasons BTS blew up in the West in the first place. I don't even feel like spending any energy doing a review or even trying to explain what I mean. So I'll just ramble on for a bit but try to keep it brief.

---

I have to give BigHit some credit because I can see what they're going for here. Andrew Watt is a very celebrated producer in the US, he won the Grammy award for Producer of the Year in 2021, he's got A listers in his portfolio. So, he's not a cheap name to book and I can see why the suits at BigHit thought he's the genius to gift them a song clinically designed for American radio.

But that pandejo phoned it in. There isn't a lick of creativity to be found anywhere in all 3 minutes and five seconds.

It reminds me of VIBE by Jimin and Taeyang, as the closest analog to the vague dissatisfaction morphing into annoyance and then pragmatic rationalization I experienced in that same sequence when listening to it the first few times.

The song is disappointing because we've all heard it before. Too many times, and we're bored of it. We've heard JK sing this sort of song for years, as covers mostly. So on one hand, while I guess it's nice JK gets to have an American summer JB-reject pop tune of his own, it's not good enough to be the track that introduces him to the world as a solo artist.

It's fine for any white, blonde, blue-eyed heartthrob that can ride on a pretty face and implicit bias to rack up accolades, it's not good enough for Jungkook.

And BigHit needs to start using whatever leverage a US$10.6 billion market capitalization buys you in Hollywood, to insist for songs that are at least as good as the songs made by BTS members and produced by their in-house team. It's a waste of money and everybody's time to fly a battalion to LA just to record 2014's summer hit in 2023.

In my opinion.

Still With You > Stay Alive > My Time > Stay > Left & Right > My You > Dreamers > Seven

*

All that said, I can't ignore JK has a taste for songs like this, and it's not his fault the song is shit (he didn't write, compose or produce it), so technically he shouldn't be punished for it. And the song is made for radio, while it's not my personal taste a lot of people really like the song (one of my friends likes Seven the most out of all the BTS releases so far), and it will catch on with some support. So, ARMY will support it including me, just to a lesser degree than I've done so far. Fingers crossed JJK1 has something solid on it.

[sspidrwebz]

so theres this spidergwen fan song and let me fucking tell you guys

it goes. so fucking hard. oh my god. bloody fucking hell.

yapping under the cut

Where are the people whose love is unconditional Let family down, and they want me gone a criminal

holy shit?? family issues is a huge part of the reason im a gwen kinnie and just.. hit hard

Dropping the ball so much, it's wild, I'm in the game Then I remember multiverses know my name, uh

slay.

Not a photo, I'm a Ghost, go find me up in the air I'm a kid pro, I get in your head, there a big joke, never catch me yet

flow goes hard. lyrics go hard.

Tell me I'm wrong when I hear y'all say a hero is a person you want dead Moving so slow, when I win go next, saving all those who give no respect

the bullshit she goes through and nobody even thanks her or anything. spiderman is loved. miles is loved. why cant she be??

Demonize me in your mind Just one truth, it's yours not mine When I leave it's 'cause it's time To heal

this applies to so many communities in real life, its insane the discrimination. queer people, poc people, neurodivergent people, the list goes on. i think the last line is in reference to when she runs away, that hurt.

The hurt I've dealt with all these years To you must seem like teenage tears The ones I loved have so much hate For this side of me

ohhh god right in the heart. the biases between generations. the homophobia/transphobia coding...

I'm done with all the fear and pain, the sorrow, the sorrow I'd slam the doors and scream until you'd follow, but there's no lifeline I know I've made my choices, my mistakes over and over, over But I'll fight until I can't see a tomorrow to do it differently this time

its me its so me. such a common sentiment for any queer teenager honestly oh my god.

Doing my best all the time, and it ends up with them falling Always guessing does it count if I'm lost at my true calling

oh gwen baby... me too, relationships and trust issues it sucks ass

Maybe it changed along the way am I delusional? Bad for everyone, my actions always prove it all

this song reminds me of just how much i relate to her :[[

Let me sink 'till I'm too deep Keeping warm in memories If I go, one day you'll see What you've thrown away

its giving sad teen poetry, feels like she genuinely wrote this. i feel like ive written something very similar before.

[chorus] Think you'll stop me? Good or bad, it haunts me Past the point of caring, they see someone that's long gone in my face

fucking try to tell me gwen isnt trans when that latter line exist, tell me right now. i relate too hard to that one [im cis, i just mean it in a diff way]

Take the rules and bend them 'till I shatter them all Can't help it because

fuck the awful fucking rules man do what you need to, thats beautiful

[chorus]

-

anyways yeah im so in love with this song, thanks @halacg for this absolutely lovely and powerful piece

[ohgodimafraud]

td//iapt - lu//cifer

my age is invalid

hi i really like this neet and i like that he has so much canon snz. ive had this in my drafts for like over a month but i got nothin better to do so here i hope u enjoy

Just when Urushihara thought he was in the clear from horrific sinus symptoms, his body firmly corrected him first thing in the morning. Apparently the more-than-week-long allergy attack he’d endured—courtesy of the kitten Maou had brought home—hadn’t been enough suffering for him. The fact that the headache accompanying the dull aching in his sinuses had come on together full force indicated this was something different. Something new, yet tauntingly familiar. 

Even with the little evidence he’d gone off, he’d done a double take when he’d gotten up to stock the closet with snacks and to bring the computer in to make sure nobody had decided to bring another cat in from the cold. Upon further inspection, nothing seemed suspicious and he remembered they’d all been in somewhat early for the night. Yep, he’s sick. 

After many failed sleeping attempts, Urushihara had to admit to himself that he’s stuck awake for the time being. The bottled tea tasted especially sweet in his mouth as it washed away the grime from breathing exclusively through it and throughout the hour he’d spent grieving his inability to sleep. He’d done his best to stay quiet enough to convince everyone outside of the closet of otherwise, but it’s starting to hurt to muffle his coughs into his sleeve. And even worse is—

“hGNxnt!” 

—Pinching his nose shut to sneeze. After the amount of grief everyone had given him for his allergy attack, he’s not looking forward to his roommates and neighbor taking notice of this too. They’re gonna be pissed. The computer screen went black as he opened a new tab and he gave himself a wry look before typing in his next search. 

This sucks; he can’t even enjoy the rabbit hole dive on The Sims he’d started on the computer when playing the actual game had become too much of a struggle (stupid overheating computer). His tired eyes trudged on deep into the Fridge Logic section of the TV Tropes page as he tried to bore himself back to sleep. Maybe he’d feel better if he ordered something? 

Oh no.

“Hihh…” The tickle in his nose had become fierce from being denied its full resolution. “Nnh…hh…h-ngxht!” 

And now he’s gone and made it worse. 

“hh-....hihhtschh’iuhhh! --ahkSHhh’iuh!” he sneezed a little too freely against the hand he’d thrown up in front of his face too late. Damnit. Maybe Ashiya won’t notice. Goosebumps prickle across his skin and create art with the speckles of spray. “hh- hhyhh...hihh! ehhdtSChh’hiehh!” 

What had started as a dull ache in his throat this morning, has evolved into a monstrous omnipresent itch always creeping deeper into his sinuses; each sneeze counterintuitively only seems to make the desperation to sneeze again worse. Time to look something else up. He sneezes again and forces a few miserable sniffles to avoid letting any of the mess that’s threatening to escape to do just that. He’s genuinely wondering if Ashiya would kill him for wiping his nose on his sleeve, but he’s starting to run low on options; he’d depleted their tissue supply down to nothing last week, and he knows his roommates were already pissed at him from his most recent purchases to want to approve any additional expenses. 

“Must you continue these theatrics?” Ashiya’s voice chimed in from outside the closet, fist rapping on the door. Speak of the devil…Or in this case Alciel.  “Good morning. Oh, no. That’s not right, it’s not morning—it’s two PM.”

Urushihara sniffled and sneezed loudly again before giving a petulant greeting. “Hell-fucki’gg-o to you too.”

“I vacuumed thoroughly already and I’ve no plans to do so again,” Ashiya said with a scowl in reference to his efforts in removing all the cat dander. In all fairness, he had vacuumed and dusted and disinfected with his usual diligence. “Time to get up. You can’t keep avoiding your chores like the plague.”

“hehtk’SCHhhu!” Urushihara answered. He hadn’t heard half of what Ashiya said while his breath was hitching. “Greadt choice of words, dude.” He rolls his eyes. “I thingk I’mb sigck.”

Ashiya opened the door and sighed, forehead scrunching as if he’s the one with a headache. “You’re kidding.”

“Yeah, I’mb ju-juhh—” He sniffled again, fighting for his life to keep his nose from running whilst trying to keep next breath from snagging and triggering another onslaught of sneezing. Unfortunately, sneezing again is inevitable and has to pick between the glorious options of letting his nose run or sacrificing the shirt or the thin blanket wrapped tightly around himself. “Hehh…” He cups the blanket over his face before letting out a boisterous sneeze. “Jusdt sdneezi’gg for the lullz.”

“You can not be sick, you barely leave the closet, never mind the apartment! And, hey, that blanket was just—” 

“HEHhhkshh! Mbaybe I’mb allergic to you thend.” 

“Ugh!” Ashya takes a step back. “I think you sneezed on the blanket and the computer at the same time. How?”

“Doh one else uses the combputer addyway,” Urushihara said awkwardly, scrubbing his nose with the back of his hand. As an afterthought, he wiped the laptop screen he’d evidently misted with the hem of his shirt and pretended not to notice the dagger-like glare Ashiya’s eyes had been pushing into him. 

Ashiya sighed and walked away and returned with a three-ply mask. “Here, at least attempt to not spread your germs everywhere. His Highness does not receive much in terms of sick leave, and as you know, the household budget is stretched thinly enough as it is.”

“Thangk you for your concerned. I’ll jusdt stay in here,” he said sarcastically as he fixed the loops of the mask over his ears. He sniffled thickly and pointedly added, “You’re probably bedtter off leavi’gg the door closed.” 

Urushihara had dismissed him, but Ashiya continued to stand there in some form of disbelief, so back on his ears went his headphones. He knew the soundproof ones would  be worth it. He easily returned his full attention to his search: Cold, flu, allergies, sinusitis. Hm.

Ahsiya pulled the headphones off his head. “If you were really trying to get better, you’d be resting, not rotting over your computer.”

“It’s releveddt research, Bo’b.” Urushihara said, not moving his tired eyes from the screen. “And be careful with these, they were expendsive.”

“How expensive?” 

“Mbore expend’sive if you break themb and we have to order an’dother pair.” After skimming a few articles, he finds a website with a seemingly useful tool that'll hopefully bring him one step closer to figuring out how to get rid of this world’s ailments.

“You’re lucky I don’t have the internet disconnected. What’s that?”

Uriushihara was too fixated on using the WebMD Symptom Checker to hear what he said. It was not off to the best start. “Oh, not even my age is valid, huh.” 

“What?...And who is this Bob?”

“What?”

“You said you were researching Bob?” 

Urushihara’s head spun for a moment. What the fuck? His head felt like cotton as he recalled their exchange. Idiot. “Mbo’bb,” He attempted to amend. It didn’t help the confusion. He sniffled—or at least tried to—a few times and groaned. “Emb Oh Emmmmb. Ugh. Forget idt.” 

“How can you have a runny nose and congestion?”

Whether that was in reference to the list of symptoms or the pathetic display, Urushihara didn’t know, but it didn’t matter. Another thing this mask is good for is hiding the flush that just crossed his cheeks from the mix of concern and disgust written all over Ashiya’s face. “The hell if I n’dow.” He adds “headache” to the list and casts a glare at the man who’s hanging over him like a damn tree. 

“Hheh…h-” He has to stop searching as his nose starts to run again and drags the creeping tickle from the back of his nose forward. At least he’s already wearing a mask, he supposed. It gives him the maximum amount of time to try reading without the nuisance of having to turn away from the screen. “h-huhh…EhhdzsSCHhh’iyuhh! Guhh…” He sniffled and shook his head as the relief from the sneeze was lost to the pounding in his head.

“Don't forget sneezing,” Ashiya reminded him with an eye roll. 

“Yeah yeah. Hilarious.”

“Really chills? Do you have a fever?”

“Dude, I dunndo we don’dt have a—” Urushihara didn’t get the chance to horrifically pronounce the word “thermometer” before Ashiya’s palm came flying at his forehead like he was aiming to smash a mosquito into his skull. He shrinks back into himself like a frightened turtle at the unwanted human contact. “T-Too close…”

“Hm. Best put fever down too.”

Urushihara shrugged, not risking another breath, never mind attempting to make another thanks, Mom type of remark, with how precarious his grip on the next sneeze threatening to escape is. It’s proven futile when he inevitably has to breathe.

“ndtKSH! IHHSHHhu! Guhh…” The inside of his mask felt particularly disgusting after that set of sneezes. He grimaced and clicked around a bit more before continuing to the results. They both pretend to not hear the crackling in Urushihara’s sinuses joining in the cadence of the clicking and typing.

“You’d think someone so small wouldn’t be able to sneeze so loudly,” Ashiya mused. 

“Ugh, dude ah-hehhH- hhh…f-fucgk off.” Urushihara paused to steady his breathing to avoid a repeat performance. He cleared his throat indignantly, bang conveniently shifting to cover more of his face. His hair along with his mask have effectively covered a good 75% of it. “I guess it’s a cold or flu. Dunndo.”

He clicked back and forth to compare while Ashiya continued to hover. “Either way, it looks like rest is the best remedy.” And with that, he confiscated the laptop and held it out of Urushihara’s reach. 

“H-hey! What th-the heh…hh-hHYSCHh’iew!” 

Slam.

The sound of aerosol spray followed, and then the pungent scent of disinfectant, and then another loud sneezing fit. It’s only when Urushihara  has resigned himself to trying to sleep again that there’s more knocking—this time at the front door. Ashiya answered the door to a stern-looking Suzuno.

“Tell me you didn’t bring another stray in,” she commanded, looking past him. 

“What?” 

“Do not lie.” Suzuno peeked in, looking around, perhaps hopeful that there really is a cat in the room. She shook her head and glared at Alciel. “I can hear Lucifer sneezing from next door.”

“I’ll have you know, I did no such—”

“Is that poison?”

“It’s Lysol!”

When the bickering seemed like it wasn’t going to resolve itself fast enough, Urushihara sighed and put his mask back on before opening the closet door. “N’dot allergies. I’mb sick.” he said miserably before slamming the door again. 

“He’s a bit cranky because he exceeded his screen time for the day.”

“Screw you.” The voice crack that accompanied the phrase and the chesty cough that followed stripped him of what little remaining NEET pride he retained after Ashiya had talked about him like he’s Alas Ramus’ age.

“If you don’t mind, he needs to nap.”

***

Maou came home with tissues. He, too, had been kept up by Urushihara’s sporadic coughing and sneezing; the closet door could only muffle so much, and Urushihara wasn’t exactly one to ail quietly. Eventually they’d just put white noise videos on the laptop to act as a buffer for all of the noise.

He yawned and announced his arrival, quietly in case Urushihara was actually sleeping. (And if that’s the case, he’d take advantage of the peace and enjoy a nap.) “Hey, Ashiya. Look, free tissues? Isn’t Japan great?”

“Oh?” Ashiya’s face lit up at the word free. 

“And when I mentioned my roommate was sick, she gave me a whole handful,” Maou whispered excitedly.

“Excellent, Sire!” Ashiya praised, holding a few packets of pocket tissues. He sighs.“Though at the rate he’s going, we’ll be out by tomorrow. Again.”

Maou pointed at the closet. “Is he…?”

“I don’t know.” Ashiya shrugged and frowned. He lowered his voice. “He finally went to sleep an hour ago, and he still had a fever.”

“Still?” Maou frowned. “Chi said he should see a doctor if it lasts more than three days.”

“I’ll make sure it does not come to that.” Somehow, Urushihara was the only one of the trio to have not landed himself in the hospital, and it’d be best to keep it that way. Ashiya’s brow furrowed at the risks involved with the situation. Even beyond the risks to the budget.

“It should be okay, fevers are pretty common,” Maou smiles. Lightly he added, “Besides, all he ever does is rest.” 

“hyHEH’gkSChh!” The hoarse noise was muffled by the closet, but they were standing close enough that they could hear the familiar sound of Urushihara’s sneeze.

“Could you guys ligke stop talk’igg about mbe?” he complained, snuffling noisly.

“Chi says that’s just a superstition.”

“Seriously? Thatd’s like our whole thi’gg.” 

They shared a moment of silence. 

“How are you feelin’, man?” Maou asked, changing the subject. Urushihara coughed. “Not great, huh?”

“Are you gonnda give mbe a tissue or are you just gonnda stare at me?” 

“Watch your tongue and be grateful, Lucifer!”

“Here,” Maou said, handing him a few packs. 

***

“Here. The pharmacist told me this is one of the most commonly used cold medicines.” Suzuno passed the bag over to Ashiya. As Ashiya bent to thank her, she interrupts, “Do not mistake this as an act of kindness, I am merely tired of being kept up all night.”

“heh’GKSCHh’hiuhh!” 

“I can’t thank you enough,” Ashiya said with a slight bow. He rapped on the closet door with the backs of his knuckles. “Urushihara, come take your medicine.”

“There’s something else for you, Lucifer,” Suzuno said as the closet door creaked open. She reached into the pocket of her kimono and revealed a folded piece of paper and held it out to him. “It’s from Alas Ramus, apparently she’s worried about you.” 

Urushihara opened it to reveal a card drawn by the kid. He’s pretty sure the two blobs in the corner were meant to be them together, and scrawled over a heart were the words git well sun looshifa. “W-well, mbake sure you tell her I’mb not dyi’gg or anddythi’gg!!” he protested, eyes prickling with tears. He clears his throat and carefully folds the card and tucks it away into one of the nooks in the closet, and ignores the proud smile on Maou’s face as he takes the most disgusting swallow of his life.

“Don’t grimace like that, you’re older than everyone in the room put together,” Suzuno scolded. 

“Dude, that’s ndot what grape tastes like!”

“He means thank you.” 

“...Thank you,” he said hesitantly, face warming over to his ears. 

Suzuno cleared her throat. “Get plenty of rest.”

And soon enough, the Devil's Castle was at peace again, at least for the evening.

[sieglinde-freud]

1,3,5,6 and 15! I love women <3

hi faye!! 🩷 i already know this gonna be long hooboy

1. One of your favorite female characters?

frederica aesfrost triangle strategy. that is my GIRL. i dont know how many of you guys have played triangle strategy but me personally it changed my life. not gonna say too much because i dont wanna spoil it, but shes such a great female lead. shes basically fighting for the liberation of her people, the roselle, who the society of the game has basically condemned for no reason so if you go through her arc, you see how she deals with the pressure of having to free them, how hard it hurts to witness them in the state that theyre in, and the sacrifices she has to make to get what she wants and GOD. its so good. shes so good. also she cant fucking cook. me too girl.

3. What’s a female character you look up to?

ema skye ace attorney, specifically in aa4-6. ive never seen a character that made me go ‘GOD shes just like me fr’ like her (and apollo justice. but this isnt about him). i feel like it’s rare to see main characters like her really love something, and then FAIL pathetically at it. over and over. not that i enjoy seeing her not getting her forensic license, but it just feels so real. sometimes you love something and you’re so passionate about it but you just dont get it. and how does she react? is she still the bubbly ema you see in rfta with a “we’ll get em next time!” attitude? no!! no she’s not, she’s bitter, grumpy, snarky, dealing with the most annoying prosecutor of all time, and she’s so fucking real. be frustrated! be angry! life hands you shit cards you can be mad about how you have to play it! it’s nice seeing characters who pick themselves back up so easily, but most people arent like that and im certainly not, and seeing a character who’s just so honest about that is really refreshing. of course, she finally gets her dream in aa6, but that doesnt come without years and years of trying. in a universe where people are becoming lawyers at 18, it’s nice to see someone realistic. (im also trying to step foot into the forensic field eventually sooo… the fact that shes on the same path as me just kinda makes it hit harder, you know?)

5. A female villain you love?

pissing off both sides of the argument by calling her a villain and saying i love her but edelgard von hresvelg. before anyone says anything my favorite lord is yuri leclerc and the rest of them are equal in my heart <3 but edelgard clearly takes on more of a villain role in every route except her own, and even then she’s not entirely morally correct (duh). but i dont know. i wont say too much on your ask faye cuz i know you havent finished the other routes yet, but even when i played azure moon i couldnt bring myself to dislike her. her past with dimitri, the way she kept the dagger, and everything she reveals to you on her own path and how her past shaped her into who she is and what she wants and how she will stop at nothing to get it. i dont agree with the ends justifying the means, but i love characters who believe in that because it’s just so interesting. you want this thing so bad, nothing will stop you? your friends, your family, knowing you’re doing wrong because you think it’ll turn out right? what if it goes wrong. what if it blows up in your face? what if history remembers you as the villain forever? you’re already too deep in it i guess, so just keep going. shes so… ggrarghj. edelgard 🥹

6. A female character who got done dirty by the narrative?

athena cykes ace attorney. you’re telling me the entirety of aa5 is revolves around HER story, HER past, HER relationships, and it’s called “Phoenix Wright: Dual Destinies”? the dual, by the way, refers to apollo. and you dont even play as athena during the climax of the game, you play as phoenix and shes just WATCHING. will they redeem her in aa6? you mean “Phoenix Wright: Spirit of Justice?” you mean the game where she gets ONE case on her own and it’s a FILLER CASE? admittedly a pretty good filler case but still. god. what the hell. i get phoenix sells but if you’re make new lawyers to take on his legacy, maybe? let them do that???

15. Female character you would defend with your life?

as usual there are so many to pick from. but i think this time i’m gonna pick nyx fire emblem. now, dont get me wrong. i will not defend her design. fates’ female dark mage design is pretty bad, especially since its used on ophelia and nyx. as much as i sincerely dont think nyx looks like a child as opposed to just a pretty short young woman, it’s…. blerghh. but aside from that? i cant STAND when people say shes just generic loli bait that acts like a child. because where? WHERE? point to where in her supports she acts like a child seriously. i know in her supports with charlotte she attempts to try it, but the point is that its unnatural and uncomfortable for her to do so. she is just. not like that. she doesnt try to play around like nowi or myrrh. shes not a child in dragon years or anything. shes just an older woman stuck in the body of a younger one, and if you would just READ one support, literally any of them, you would know that. but fates haters dont read, do they? clearly not. and its just a huge disservice to the rest of her character, which i think is incredibly beautifully written. shes such a standout in fates and i cant stand people ignoring that because “waaah nowi clone!” fuck you.

[infizero]

initial side order thoughts/screenshots i needed to get out of my system (i have taken way too many screenshots) (SPOILERS OBVIOUSLY)

literally had to take a whole moment after reading this I AM GOING TO SOB. STOP THIS MADNESS. "a quiet spot together" WE GET ITTTTT YOU TWO ARE MARRIED IM GOING TO GO DIG A HOLE TO BURY MYSELF IN

dedf1sh/acht they/them moments HOORAY!!

my lesbian mothers shaking me awake after i ate 50 flintstone gummy

CAN WE PLEASE TALK ABOUT MARINA'S WALLPAPER. I ALMOST SCREAMED WHEN I SAW IT HELP MEEEEEEEE. SHES SO GAY

pearl is so unfazed too she already knows this is what her laptop looks like LMFAO. they are genuinely married

STOP BEING GAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i am just so obsessed with how she looks here. my office manager queen

SO MANY THINGS HERE. ok

1) AGENT 4 REFERENCE RAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! THEY'RE NOT FORGOTTEN!!

2) this entire conversation is so fucking good. of course cuttlefish introduced them to four and pearl has no memory of who they are LOLLLLL

3) after getting stuff like marina's diary and a cool nametag, marina just casually telling us we got a piece of agent 4's FUCKING SOUL was so funny to me. ARE THEY OK?

the noise i let out when i saw this was disgusting

MARINA HAS TEARS IN HER EYES EVEN THOUGH SHES SMILING AND CELEBRATING WITH PEARL GET ME OUTTTTT OF HEREEEEEEEEEE

she is so pearl trash #1 core. this is insane. also the emojis and keysmashing I LOVE HERRRRRR. this entire thing with the diary entries being formatted like a social media story is soooooo cute. also reading "over 4 years ago" gave me psychic damage

ANYWAYS. its past midnight and ive got class bright and early so unfortunately ive got to stop for now. but IM HAVING SOOOOO MUCH FUN I KEEP HAVING TO STOP MYSELF FROM SQUEALING AT EVERY LITTLE THING. AND TAKING 5 BILLION SCREENSHOTS. as soon as i am out that building i am making a beeline back to my dorm and getting right back into this

also writing that made me realize like. good god. the attachment i have to these guys, off the hook in particular, is insane. one of my EARLIEST POSTS ON THIS BLOG was my thoughts on their reveal in one of the splatoon 2 trailers. which i made when i was in MIDDLE SCHOOL. guys i was literally 12 fucking years old when i first saw these two and now i am 19 and seeing them again and heavily involved in story stuff again has made me so unbelievably insane. THOSE TWO MEAN SO SO MUCH TO MEEEEE

even just walking around the virtual inkopolis square made me so nostalgic for splatoon 2 😭 i played the first game a good bit when i was younger but 2 was really where my deep love for the game came from. so going around the familiar layout of everything was. whew.

i am fucking loving this shit so far i am not logging onto twitter until i finish this i will NOT let myself be spoiled. if that mfing all bosses no damage mf tries to snipe me on youtube i will just not let it. simple as that. anyways I NEED TO GO TO BED GOODBYEE

[lokilysolbitch]

My new fixation is bad poetry

and its making me think about how to define art and poetry and what makes poetry good etc but I can't go back and find my sophomore english teacher and rant about it so I'm making it yalls problem. but mr c if ur in here pls read also what do you mean thats one way to skin a hamster. thats not how it goes what are you talking abou

first of all, ive finally figured out my current definition of art: records of the human experience or just experience in general. so yes paintings and poetry but ALSO tiktoks or a decorated room. idc if you think its stupid there are remnants and references to human experiences ALL OVER those. so basically if it left a mark at any point, its art. maybe not always "good" or skilled, deep, etc but it is art (to me)

secondly, what is poetry? the same sophomore english teacher asked this at the beginning of a unit and the class was struggling. every time we listed a requirement for poetry he went "is that necessary though?". "it has to rhyme" "does it?" "it has to be deep" "does it" "it needs to have words!" ".....does it?" man idk i was 15 and sleep deprived

but now im less sleep deprived and i have an answer. I would consider poetry a spectrum (but not necessarily flexible. i wouldn't say you have to bend it's meaning to make something fit) but also playing with language, to be playful with it and have fun with it, to use it as a toy in a way. using language in a way different from its intended use. so writing a personal narrative about a deep topic? not poetry. maybe you had fun with it but thats still its main use. to make words rhyme, to alliterate, to use words just plain wrong? probably poetry. its still a spectrum. and im aware this means that saying something like "yew nork/glass fork" would count as a shitpost and poetry while "Ill love you and ill never stop loving you" doesnt and um i dont care i said what i said--

this would also mean most books and speeches would have little bits of poetry in there and i stand by that too. maybe the entire thing isnt poetry but bits of it could count. i came to this conclusion on the meaning of poetry because i saw too many "aesthetic" free verse poems that were just. tweets. you coulda just made it a sentence and posted it for free. there was no attempt to play with language. you just used it the way you were supposed to. its just a quote.

im definitely going to add more onto this about what i think poetry critics miss sometimes and why formal teaching of poetry is flawed but not all in one post bc its a lot. However i have one last concept to attempt to define. this one has always made me the angriest

GOOD VS BAD POETRY/ART

where do i even start. maybe we should just get rid of these terms completely and make people say what they mean. is it good or did he just use literary devices correctly. is it good or is it genuine. is it good or is it deep. is it good or is it entertaining. is it good or do you like it. is it good or is it popular. is it good or is it complex. is it good or is it creative.

ive been saying since i was i was maybe 12-13 that even though good does not have a solid stable meaning, there is still a sense of what good is. We know what its supposed to be. classical music, Edgar Allen Poe, Da Vinci are good. sure most people barely know or understand or care about these things other than one piece of work they can recall because they had to look at it in highschool that time and the teacher seemed to appreciate it. and we know that reality tv, messily hand drawn animals, and half assed near unintelligible tiktok skits are bad.

but....wait we like those though

ive come to the conclusion that while still shifting, "good"'s meaning in scholarly settings tends to come down to whatever those somethingth century european dudes and what the modern smart looking guys deemed intelligent. and in colloquial settings, what everyone likes.

many pretentious types will say rap is bad and the subject matter is crude and the same way im sure some old european guy would have said or has said traditional african music is too weird and primitive to be respectable.

now. i dont really listen to rap intentionally. if its in there its in there. I used to be pretentious and after changing i just never got too deep into it BUT. i listened to a Nicki Minaj song one time just to see and yeah it was not family friendly but dear god was it clever. the way she'd drop the most genius alliteration-personification-allegory-englishvocabword and then just keep it moving like im not gonna have to stop and ponder the seven layer reference to bedtime hanky panky. its smart. its creative. its complex. and so many rappers can write about the same topics over and over and still come back with a new way of phrasing it. its genuinely impressive

but so many still wouldn't consider it good.

the term good when it comes to art, while having somewhat of a meaning is still useless. make your own personal standards for what is important for you to see in art. its kind of silly for us to collectively decide "okay this art? we like it. this is good" and then go to a different community (age group, culture, race) and go "were going to show you the new gold standard for good! its what we liked! you dont do it like this?? then yours is bad!". historically thats never been a good move

what i find important with poetry (and by poetry i mostly mean song writing bc i dont even read poetry like that) tends to be "is it a poem? or a sentence/paragraph". everything other than that just has to do with my taste and what I prefer in the moment. and it goes the same for everyone else. there's no universal good or bad with art. its just what a dominant or culturally respected group of people said was important.

limericks are bad tho jesus told me/j

TL;DR: i think anything that records an experience is art. i think toying with language mostly makes it poetry, and i think its weird people create little boxes for good and bad and make everyone else adhere to it

[mbat]

i think the thing is that people want mature stories but most peoples idea of mature is just gore and sex or whatever. i blame adult swim for that skgjsnf theres probably a better thing to blame but still.

plenty of kids/family media prove you dont need those things to be mature. you just need to care. granted, theres restrictions on kids media that hold them back. thats the biggest issue fr.

when it comes to adult shows they dont put enough of those restraints on. they restrain other things though. like when morel orel created and aired an episode that was a major reason it got cancelled. the episode was fucked up.... but it cared. at least a little bit.

steven universe is mature. bluey is mature. id even consider multiple disney animated movies as mature.

the thing is... theyre also made for families of all ages.

they arent mature because of organs falling out of bodies on screen, or people having explicit sex for every viewer to see, or people foaming at the mouth from overdoses. theyre mature because they show humanity in a way that you can feel cares. they show people experiencing real feelings and getting through them in a way that feels real.

of course, its not all black and white. everything has its mature moments, and just because something doesnt do what ive said doesnt make it immature, its just different. inside out was mature for showing a girl running away and experiencing deep emotional pain until she decided to go back home to her parents and talk it out.

i wouldnt say moana was immature for not doing deep dives on the human experience in favor of having a fantastical story that had human moments more as a side dish. it has some amazing moments that are just as human, but theyre not the primary focus.

when i think of writing stories as mature, i think of having a dive into the human experience. i wrote a whole fic that was that and its still unfinished. the only part that could be considered adult is the way i added people cursing and vague references to sex.

when i think of a mature story i want on screen, i want one thats real, that tells human stories whether the characters are human or not, i want one that acknowledges the things we consider adult like violence/gore, sex, and sure, even drugs if it matters so much, but they arent some focal point for drama or shock. i dont want something that overtakes a story that couldve been good.

ive thought of many shows while writing this. many movies, just media in general. ones i love, ones i hate, ones ive experienced through other peoples words alone. maybe you have too.

hear me out here, a good example of what i consider a mature story i like on screen is stranger things. however, its also a horror franchise alongside its other genres, so of course it leans into gross things and gore a little bit, but never just because. it uses those elements to paint a world and further the story.

i also like the good place, too. a show that, from episode one, points at philosophy and ethics and runs with it. one that questions and attempts to answer things about humanity itself. its a comedy show so it can have its weird moments, but i honestly consider it a near perfect show personally. it also acknowledges sexual things without being in your face with them.

many shows do try to be mature but just go too far with some things. i mean, i think euphoria was trying to be mature? but when i watched it all i saw was oversexualized teenagers and so much talk about drugs that it got on my nerves from minute one. maybe its realistic to some people but it was a pain to get through for me.

and sigh. yes. i will acknowledge Velma. it shows close ups of brains falling out of heads. it opens on a shot of nude women in highschool only covered by conveniently placed bubbles and constantly talks about another students privates. it has a whole storyline about selling drugs. all of this is shock, all of this is immature 'adult' stuff. we been knew. its the type of stuff you see on family guy.

family guy is some of the worst about it all, only brought down the rankings of worst because its restrained from showing everything possible. also. admittedly. theres moments where family guy had, well, moments. its been years since ive watched the show but there were moments it got genuine and serious and you could feel they were trying, at least a little. but then the rest of the show is just... bad.

i dont know if ive gotten a point across or if my wording makes sense, but i just wanted to say all that considering conversations people have been having for a little while now.