#like idk i feel like discussions can be had here and i think these sorts of discussions need to be had

[neonpurpleisacolor]

Some thoughts on today’s finale:

-I actually really enjoyed it, it felt closer to older seasons and finales than the last few chaotic and over dramatic ones (train crash & post mortem c-section in the street, i’m looking at you)

-While I initially sort of rolled my eyes at Nancy being pregnant, it was cute having Phyllis attend her delivery, especially since Phyllis was sort of bait-and-switched with Shelagh’s delivery (with good reason, Sister Julienne was the obvious choice). The only thing that would’ve made it better would have been Trixie also being present since they were so close, but it was still beautiful and I teared up. Except it was a little too convenient to have the baby in the hospital while Nancy and Roger could get married lol

-Loved getting to see how Paula’s story played out, even though her giving birth was heart wrenching and I wanted to yell at Mrs Cunningham through the screen when she ‘apologized’. Bitch what do you mean “if I’ve ever caused you to question if you could come home” you literally explicitly said she could not come home until nature had taken its course fuck outta here.

-Side note on Paula, I feel like Joyce would’ve been the more obvious choice to accompany her to the mother house since she was the one who first built a rapport with Paula, idk

-Sister Julienne watching Sister Catherine was so heartwarming, and having Helen attend was perfect

-For a few minutes I definitely thought they’d kill Sister Monica Joan off, once she showed up to the Mother House and also during the life vows they panned to her when discussing ‘death’ and i literally checked the time to see if there’d be enough time for a death. We all know how fond Heidi is of a birth, wedding, and death and we hit 2/3

-Hoping next season they make Geoffrey more explicitly gay and we can see how the community reacts when it’s someone they personally know and love who is gay.

-Shelagh being tipsy was cute and fun af, reminded me of some of my aunts when the wine starts flowing

-Overall I think this season contains more elements of the older seasons that established the show and made us fall in love with it, at times the acting feels a little cartoonish compared to the subtlety of the earlier seasons, but it seems like things are scaling back a bit.

Let me know your thoughts! Agree, disagree, idk. I just love this show man

[nyxtickled]

I’m so shocked to hear all that’s been going on with this dude, but I’m so proud of you! This must be so hard for you, but clearly you are better off and have so many great people in your corner! Sending love <3

Are you able to share any of the “warnings” you got from people previously (aside from the few people you mentioned)? Like was he really just acting like this to everyone? It’s so crazy to me that this happened to others too - sociopath vibes. It’s scary that this was hidden for so long!! Can’t trust anyone :( also, I’m loving the screenshot evidence and I think it really helps to paint a clear picture of how a predator can hide like that.

Again, sending so much love! Also p.s. he fucked up big time with you, he lost a good one!!!

thank you for the love, it means so much! the good news is, i was fucked up over it for a short bit, but i feel nothing but relief and closure now.

absolutely - here are some of the warnings i received, which i was later talked out of after approaching him:

i included some of my responses to the reddit user who tried to warn me as well, just to sort of verify how i was immediately taken aback and i could immediately disprove the claims being made about me. the reddit convo was actually what led to the biggest conflict i shared about in my og community warning post. those messages were what led me to say “hey so i am being told some things that make me really uncomfortable, but my dog is literally dying so i don’t have the capacity to discuss it rn, i just need space.” the response that followed was the 24 hours of lashing out and shaming me for “taking her side” etc.

overall i would just say that if anyone you play with seems to have a habit of telling you that their other play partners are jealous of you, or if you hear warnings about them and they just get angry with you for not immediately choosing to blindly believe that the warnings are fabricated, or if the explanation for the warnings always involves some level of “that person is just bitter bc they wanted more with me and i didn’t” etc, you should interpret it as a red flag.

for example: if i had a play partner approach me saying someone warned me about them, and they felt unsure about me now, i would begin by apologizing right off the bat that they were pulled into a situation that led to them feeling like they weren’t safe or valued by me. then i would ask if they were willing to speak to me about what came up or what they were told, in case i may be able to offer some insight. if they didn’t have the space for it, id respect that. of course i would be very anxious and worried and confused, wondering what someone could have said to them about me to make them feel like they couldn’t trust me - but processing those feelings would be MY responsibility, not theirs. the only appropriate thing for me to do would be to give them whatever space they request, and tell them that i would love nothing more than to talk about it and explore what was going on whenever they were capable. and again, i’d just apologize for any hurt they were experiencing.

would i be lowkey losing my mind a little? absolutely! i’d probably be spiraling and tweaking tryna figure out what on earth could have been said or what they thought i did and whether it was true. i’m not saying it would be easy!!!! but all of those panicky feelings are not theirs to appease. so i would instead reach out to my own close friends for support.

now, granted this hasn’t ever happened to me in kink, because idk i just try really hard to be as honest and open and forthcoming as possible with everyone i ever meet. but it has happened with interpersonal relationships where my partner or friend has a problem with something i did that inadvertently hurt them, and they aren’t ready to talk about it yet. so, it was my responsibility to give them the time they needed to process, and to process my own panic somewhere else.

no one should ever make you feel like your boundaries and needs are harmful to them. if someone has a problem with your boundaries, it usually means they were benefiting from you not having any.

[cosmicredcadet]

I wholeheartedly believe that the last thing that should be said in response to aspecs hating their identity is "don't worry! Aspecs can still do X, Y, and Z" and I'm so fucking serious about this.

The least helpful thing you can do to someone who have not accepted their aspec identity yet is give them ways to compensate for it. If an aspec person is upset over not being able to enter a romantic relationship, the last thing that should be done is to tell them they can still enter one or instead enter a QPR - not because that's not true but because that is quite literally going to stunt their ability to accept their aspec identity. Telling them they can instead enter a QPR when they're upset over the lack of romantic relationships is at MOST a bandaid for the main issue. Instead of them coming to accept their identity and accept who they are you have instead handed them an amatonormative alternative on a silver platter that allows them to pretend they still fit into amatonormativity without every deconstructing it. This is how we get QPRs getting shoved into an amatonormative framework - these people NEVER got over the "I'm sad that I'm aspec" phase because they were handed alternatives instead of given actual support in deconstructing their internalized aphobia, self hatred, and amatonormative biases.

[longagoitwastuesday]

Kusakabe, dear, you're too beautiful to be saying that kind of stuff

[cthonic-bunny]

1. personal synastry and composite experiences and observations

Do not interact if you are a minor. (18+)

Sun in 8th house synastry: I was the house person they were the sun. I definitely developed insecurities I never had before as a result of this connection. With the sun shining brightly on my insecurities, they were hard to ignore and even harder to not project them entirely on the sun. A lot of “you did this to me!” energy. I didn’t consider myself a jealous person until this relationship and a lot of it came from wanting to be “good enough” in the eyes of the sun person. It’s like knowing you have these darker aspects in common and wanting them to see you can bond this way and see them in a way no one can. You also end up pushing limits together. You liked this? Now WE love this. You’re addicted to that? Now WE are addicted to it. Moderation is hard to achieve with sun in the 8th house synastry. It can also bring up insecurities surrounding sex with that person specifically, if poorly aspected. Explosive reactions and emotional outbursts aren’t foreign here. The house person can feel like a vampire being sunburned, with all its ugliness revealing itself from its body because of its interaction with this person. The 8H person wants a full, in-depth analysis of the sun person’s thoughts, intentions, and motivations. The plutonic energy wants to completely envelop the sun, compulsively in some cases, to know WHY they are the way they are, and why the sun presents themselves in certain ways. This is especially true if the sun person did something to hurt the 8H person, who can feel it more than is rational. The 8H person can really struggle with getting over any emotional harm or feelings of abandonment that come from the sun person. The 8H person can potentially resent the sun person for not being able to read them as intently as they could read the sun person. The sex, if and once insecurities are worked through, can bring you so much closer to one another and to yourself. I also feel like any disturbances or intimacy problems between you two can easily be felt by others or there can be blow ups in front of people you know, because the sun is a planet that illuminates wherever the light lands, whether you like it or not. Avoid public fights, because you will kiss and makeup but the damage in other people’s eyes will be done and opinions will be made. The 8H person might be able to see through any facade the sun person puts up, and this could lead to deep discussions that could be extremely healing for the Sun who might have to work through some things. The 8H person can also teach the sun person how to make more money and maybe even encourage them to start their own business. They can be known as a couple that makes a lot of money together. The sun person can also give sugar daddy/mommy vibes and the 8H the sugar baby, even if it neither one of the people involved are rich-rich. This is a highly binding placement. You two might find it difficult or even impossible to separate from each other even if the relationship has run its natural course. You guys are known as the couple that is “stuck” to one another.

Moon in 5th house synastry: *weird* but, for those who have this placement with a significant other, do you love to smell their body odor? I think in the house of children and fertility, it makes sense to love your partner’s pheromones. Something as weird as the smell of their armpits or stinky feet becomes comforting, idk?? This house is also really fun, and you can get a lot of emotional fulfillment out of acting like children together. 5H is ruled by Leo, so I also found that we had a lot of fun putting on “shows” for one another, and sort of making up our own characters and accents to make the other giggle. People are also really excited for the prospect of us having children together, and you’ll have friends volunteering to babysit or be the godparent of your unborn children LOL. Dressing up nice and going out on dates to somewhere with a great ambiance can be a great way to feel connected. Sharing perfume, or gifting each other perfumes or colognes. Loving the scents they wear. Same taste in candles? Candles as gifts. Lots of watching TV together? Having “shows” that feel wrong to watch without the other. Being called pretty by the other means a lot, and being pretty in each other’s eyes makes you feel good.

Moon in 12th house synastry: 12H synastry tends to have an awful reputation, and I get it when it’s a relationship that isn’t meant for you. However, my moon falls in my best friend’s 12H, and it is one of my favorite placements of ours. We have a telepathic connection where we can just look at the other and know what’s up. You preemptively know what will bother the other person and find it hard to understand how other people wouldn’t have assumed that thing would annoy your person. You understand each other’s motives, and can provide the ultimate shoulder to cry on or ear to listen with. When it’s a new interaction it can feel a bit intense, because how are you in my head!!! I feel like you can read my thoughts! It was like that for the both of us. It’s like, when together, both our consciousnesses transported to another realm where we are mutually perceiving something and our thoughts are being put on a radio for the other to listen to. Very spiritual relationship. You KNOW the vibes, and those feelings will be verified through the other person who already felt the same. She will never be wrong in my eyes and I will defend her to the death. We don’t even have to speak on certain days, but we can feel whatever mood the other one is in and check-up on each other accordingly. Whenever we have a strange dream or nightmare, the first thing we do is text each other and try to analyze what it could mean. I as the 12H person also dreamt of us becoming best friends before we formally met. The dreams i would have of her would always be loaded with spiritual symbolism. We also grew up with the same level of emotional attachment to our personal spiritualities and shared religion, which plays a large role in our understandings of one another. Most people just won’t get it, but she always will. She could read my crazy journal entries if she wanted to. 12H moon synastry is just unconditional love. Between friends at least, it feels like a long-lost twin connection. Also, her and I had gotten matching tattoos before we even knew of each other, both of them being for the same spiritual meaning!

Composite Mars in 3rd house: Lots of talking during sex, and lots of car sex— It might sometimes feel like that’s the easiest thing to talk about, or the conversation always steers to that direction. Sending nudes? Sexting. Maybe the only way you two could engage your sexual desire for one another is through sexting, because distance might not permit the full physical expression. If you don’t have a lot of experience knowing the other’s communication style, it can lead to a bit of random defensiveness or perceiving the other as communicating abrasively. I think it can lead to one trying to get reactions out of the other by saying something out of pocket.

Composite Mercury in 12th house: Pay attention to the dreams you have of this person! They will seriously tell you a lot about your dynamic, but don’t take them at face value! Lots of mystical elements to your dreams about them specifically, so maybe reviewing tarot card meanings and astrology concepts can help you decipher the meanings of your dreams. You might find it easier than expected to confide in each other or rant about your brain’s inner workings together. “I don’t know why I’m saying all that-“ or psychoanalyzing each other for fun. Talking about your less-than-desirable attributes. Being honest about your deceptive tendencies or specific lies you’ve told and why. Oversharing things that will usually make other people uncomfortable in the same context (like talking about your exes or failed situationships on a first date). Difficulties communicating when it’s not in person because it leaves too much room for confusion. Deceit is a real possibility though, with someone voluntarily “leaving out details” about their life outside of the relationship to avoid ruining the flow of energy or the dynamic. Having each other saved on your phones under fake names. Having to hide that you’re talking to this person from other people. One of you withdrawing communication to manipulatively make the other think about you more. Taking turns being each other’s therapist. Thinking about each other often but never expressing that, or the extent to which you think of one another. Thinking about the other at night before going to bed. “I started catching feelings for the girl that I’m currently having sex with, so it’s safe to say we don’t talk anymore, unless of course we’re having sex” in Sasquatch .22 by Bay Faction.

Composite Venus in 12th house: There really is a secretive component to this interaction that can feel impossible to bypass. Your family, friends, or society might not “approve” of you two together. One or both of you can be cheating on someone with this person. Only being able to meet up or be affectionate at night or in extremely private settings. The privacy of the relationship can help you open up a lot more than you’d expect to, because there’s no one but you two to perceive the other in this context. No judgments on how you two should behave with one another, so “let’s fully enjoy the moment while it lasts.” No one understanding your interaction or it’s purpose, and you probably don’t understand it either. Sending telepathic love notes. Longing. Intimate and romantic sex that haunts you or catches you off guard. Never wanting to be the first one to admit you’ve caught feelings. Ruining your sleep schedule to spend time with one another. Dreaming about romantically linking with them before it ever happens. Withdrawing once feelings start feeling real. The song “Lips of Angel” by Hinder reminds me of Composite Venus in 12H. “Illicit Affairs,” “August,” and “False God” by Taylor Swift. “Why Can’t I?” by Liz Phair. Gato de Noche by Bad Bunny. Sex by The 1975.

Lilith in 8th house synastry: Wanting to try things sexually with this person that wasn’t necessarily exciting with other partners. “You can do whatever you want to me, and I’ll let you.” Possibly experimenting with or preferring BDSM with one another. That Lana lyric that’s like: You fucked me so good that I almost said “I love you.” It might also be controversial if people knew you’ve had sex with one another. Revenge sex? As in, you two having sex might indirectly be spiting someone else, and it kind of feels like you’re dishing out delicious karma on a surprising silver platter— “lol if only they knew” You two might have fun misbehaving together. Doing what you both know you’re not supposed to be doing can make everything feel better, and even more reason to keep doing what you’re doing. Lana Del Rey in Diet Mountain Dew: “you’re no good for me, but baby I want you.” Wanting to be dangerous together. “Leave me bruised so I can’t forget you.” “Seeing you tonight is a bad idea, right?” This placement somewhat reminds me of a union between the death card and the devil card in tarot, with an emphasis on risk-stained sexual liberation. You can become symbolic of temptation in each other’s lives, so it’s hard to deny your impulses. Toxic by Britney Spears.

-D 🖤🕯

[darkwitchoferie]

Train Ride - Chapter 6, Seungmin

A/N: The expression of ‘looking at something through their eyebrows’ – if you need reference for what that looks like, look up the Kubrick stare. Also in my mind, I don’t care how logical this is or if there’s any truth to it, their current dorms/apartments are close to each other, but not in the same building. IDK, fanfic rules again. This one’s so long you guys. I’m not even sorry for it. Much like Binnie’s muscles, I have a thing for Seungmin’s voice. I will also not apologize for that.

Cw/tw: exhibitionism, public semi-nudity/flashing, unprotected vaginal and anal sex, member x member, oral (m & f receiving), cum eating, multiple partners, not mean Seungmin just a different kind of teasing than Changbin, face-fucking, edging, praise kink actually shown in this one (though I feel like it’s been implied before), and much talk of sex pics/videos

wc: 6.4k

Master list

The next morning, you woke up between Changbin and Chan, confused for a moment. You were still naked, but you’d obviously been cleaned – not just wiped clean but actually bathed – and the sheets were changed. Did you really pass out and not remember them cleaning up, you wondered. There was a soft knock at the door, interrupting your thoughts, then Jeongin peeked his head in.

“Hey,” he whispered, smiling at you. Glancing at Changbin, he tilted his head, silently asking if you wanted to follow him. Carefully, so as not to wake the two men on either side of you, you crept out of bed and followed Innie.

A short while later, Chan laughed as he and Changbin joined the pair of you in the kitchen. You looked over Jeongin’s shoulder to smile at him. Jeongin had you sat up on the edge of the counter, legs around his waist, as he lazily thrust into you.

“Can’t miss your morning quickie, can you, Iyen-ah?”

“We’re – oh, right there – we’re making breakfast,” you answered.

“You are not,” Chan laughed again, leaning over Jeongin’s shoulder to give you a quick ‘good morning’ kiss and, judging by his shiver, run his finger’s down Jeongin’s back. Innie finished sucking a hickey onto your upper boob, right as you arched your back, digging your nails into his shoulders as you came. He followed a couple of thrusts after, groaning as he buried his face in your shoulder.

“Okay, we started making breakfast,” you clarified, after catching your breath. For a man who wasn’t big on skinship, Innie was very cuddly after sex, still pressed against you and keeping his arms wrapped around you. You kept your arms around him too, carding your fingers through his hair. You knew from both Felix and Hyunjin that he was the same with them.

“I can see that,” Chan agreed, stepping up to the stove, turning it back on, and finishing the breakfast you two had started.

“Morning, Bin. Sleep good?” You asked, looking over at him still in the doorway.

“Yeah. Sorry,” he said shaking his head a little, “gonna take a bit to get used to, I think. This whole thing is kinda surreal.” He made his way into the kitchen and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, the same way Chan had.

“Yeah. That’s part of the reason we came out here. Channie doesn’t mind if we have a morning quickie beside him while he’s still asleep, but we weren’t sure you’d… appreciate that type of wake up call.”

“Mm. In future, I would not object at all.” After he moved, Jeongin cleaned you up, then helped you off the counter.

“Mm,” you stretched your arms over your head, arching just a little as you stretched. “I love kitchen sex,” you commented.

“You love sex,” Chan corrected.

“How can I not when I have so many amazing partners?” You countered. “Oh, speaking of that, gotta update the group chat.” You strode back to Chan’s room and grabbed your phone off the charger.

After updating the chat to add Changbin, you went back out into the kitchen, having just tossed on an oversized sleep shirt. You were sitting at the kitchen table, discussing upcoming plans for the day, when you sort of drifted away from the conversation.

“Y/nnie?” You snapped out of it seeing Jeongin’s hand waving in front of your face.

“Sorry. I was just thinking about the picker wheel. I don’t want to use it. I want Seungmin next.”

“I thought you had trouble choosing?” Chan asked, curious.

You nodded. “But there’s a stronger possibility now that Seungmin could be last. And I don’t want that. Like, we all know that it’s random, and he’d know that too. But I don’t want something building in the back of his head, ya know? I just…. I dunno, I don’t want any possibility of him thinking I would purposely pick him last or that I’m only picking him to ‘complete the set’ or whatever.”

Chan smiled over at you, reaching out to tug you close so he could kiss you. “You’re sweet,” he said. “Okay, Minnie next. Any ideas?”

“Not yet. I’ll think of something. Or you will.”

Later, after breakfast, after the three of them left, and you’d gone home to start your own work day, you sent a message to the group chat.

It was while you were taking a break from work, walking in your parking lot, that you got the idea for Seungmin. Quickly, you texted Chan for a copy of the group’s schedule and Seungmin’s individual one. Using those, you bought tickets for a Lotte Giants game. Seungmin may not have been quite the same amount of romantic as Hyunjin, but you wanted him to know you were serious. You, and the whole group really, were aware of his insecurities, particularly related to his looks and when he started comparing himself to the others. So you wanted to make sure he knew you wanted him.

You waited until Chan was at your place, knowing that would mean Seungmin would be home too, to call him. “Hey Minnie. How was your day?”

“Good. Yours?”

“Yeah, good. Listen, I have two tickets to a Lotte Giants game this week. In three days. Wanna go?”

“You have tickets to a baseball game? You don’t like baseball, I thought.”

“I never said that! Just that I’d never seen a game. Do you wanna go with me or not?”

“Uh… yeah, sure. I’ll pick you up?”

The pair of you made arrangements for him to pick you up and then ended the call. “Alright, we’re all set,” you grinned. “I’ve never been to a baseball game. What do I wear?” You hurried to your closet, dropping your phone on your bed.

A few minutes later Chan strode into your room. “Babe!”

“Yeah?”

He held a finger to his lips, then answered his phone on speaker. “Hey Seungmin. What’s up?” You stilled, listening to their conversation.

“Hyung, I uh…. I think your girlfriend just asked me out on a date.”

“Yeah, she totally did.” They were both quiet for a few seconds. “Why? Did you not want to go out with her? Because if not, you should tell her right away, she’s already picking out her outfit.”

“Hang on, seriously? And you’re alright with this?”

“Is Felix there?”

“No, he’s at Changbin and Hyunjin’s, why?” You snorted quietly. Of course he was – he was just as excited at the prospect of sleeping with everyone as you were and his sex drive was as strong as yours too. He’d just decided he would ‘follow you Y/nnie. Don’t wanna steal your thunder.’

“Alright, sit down, let me explain.” You weren’t surprised that Seungmin would need or want an explanation first. Thinking about it, you should have realized the baseball game would make him suspicious. It wasn’t like going to the museum with Hyunjin, that was something you’d done plenty of times. You’d never been to a baseball game and had made a point of the fact that you’d never even watched the sport.

While Chan was talking to Seungmin, you tuned them out. You scooped up your phone and pulled up your weather app, looking for the forecast over the next few days. By the time the two men had hung up, you’d settled on your outfit. You’d looked up the team as well and based on the team’s colors had picked a navy blue, just-above-your-knees length skirt and paired it with a t shirt that was so light blue, it was nearly white. You weren’t a fan of the color of that shirt on you, but the fit of it was why you’d chosen it.

Three days later, Chan chuckled as he snapped a photo of your outfit and sent it to what he’d started referring to as the ‘Sexy’ group chat. You knew it wasn’t actually a comment on you or any of the guys, just that that was the chat where you were all blunt with each other and sometimes used it to send sex photos and videos to each other. Like the picture Hyunjin had sent of Changbin’s blissed out smile with his chest and abs covered in bites and hickeys from him and Felix.

“What?”

“Nothing, baby. You look good, as always. Just…. I feel like Seungmin’s gonna have a similar reaction to Felix’s reaction, that’s all.”

“That’s kinda the point, babe.”

“And if it rains?” he asked, glancing out your kitchen window where you could see rain clouds gathering.

“It’s supposed to stay clear for the next few hours. And we have VIP seating, so we won’t get rained on anyway.” You smirked, knowing exactly why he was concerned about the rain, but not directly addressing it. “Seungmin!” You turned toward your door when you heard knocking. “Hey,” you greeted him with a smile after opening the door.

“He –” he stopped for a second, just staring. Then cleared his throat and shook himself a little. “Hey. Uh, you ready to go?”

“Yep.” Smiling, you grabbed your purse, made sure your phone was in it, slipped on a pair of flats, and headed out. The shirt you were wearing was on the thin side and tight, to say the least. So much so, that you could easily see the imprint of the lace of your bra.

You didn’t know much about baseball, having never really been a fan. It wasn’t that you didn’t like it, you supposed, you’d just never really had a chance or reason to get into it. Sitting beside Seungmin however, you were starting to understand people’s love for the game. Or, his love for it at least. He patiently answered every question you asked, going into detail for you when you asked. And you got to watch the way he lit up as he explained things or the excitement when his team was doing good.

It started thundering as you left the stadium. You crossed your fingers, quietly hoping it timed out well and you would get caught in the rain. It was, after all, part of the reason you wore the shirt you did. Less than 10 feet from the back of Seungmin’s car, the sky opened and drenched everything. Laughing, you spread your arms and spun in a circle, face up.

“Y/N!” You turned to Seungmin, who was staring at you with wide eyes through the downpour.

“Minnie?” You played dumb, acting like you had no idea why he’d be looking at you like that.

“Get in the car!”

“But – the rain. I wanna play.” It wasn’t uncommon for you to be out in what you called warm rain. Or summer rain, where it wasn’t cold enough for the rain to make you cold. More than once, when they were around, Felix, Jisung, Hyunjin, and sometimes some of the others, would join you.

“Play later, car now.” You pouted to hide your grin and got into the passenger seat of his car.

“But why?” You asked when he didn’t say more after you got in. He didn’t answer right away, focusing on getting the pair of you on the road.

Seungmin avoided looking directly at you as he maneuvered the stadium traffic and got onto a less traveled road to avoid more traffic. Not that he didn’t look at you at all. You kept catching him looking at you from the corner of his eye, hands gripping the steering wheel so his knuckles turned white. You tried, hopefully successfully, to hide your pleased smile.

“I had fun, Minnie,” you attempted to break the silence that had fallen. “Thanks for explaining everything to me.”

“Mm-hm. You’re welcome.”

“Everything okay?” you asked, trying to sound concerned and not gleeful.

“Mm. Look at your shirt.”

“Oh! Oh, no playing in the rain.” From what anyone had been able to see through your shirt before, you would understand if they thought your bra was just decorated with lace. But now that the rain had soaked it and it was almost completely sheer, Seungmin could see that it wasn’t decorated with lace, but was only lace leaving you basically completely exposed. “Oops.” You made absolutely no move to try to cover yourself.

Before he could say anything, his phone rang through the Bluetooth speaker. “Old Man is calling.”

“You do not have him saved as Old Man!” You giggled as he answered the call.

“Having a good time, I take it?” Chan asked, obviously hearing your laughter.

“Yes, we are!” you answered.

“Seung, did she get caught in the rain?”

“Yeah. Why would…?”

“Ask her why she wore that shirt.”

“I didn’t plan to get caught in the rain. You can’t plan rain! I wore it just in case, which is completely different.” You tried justifying your decision.

“Mm-hm.” You could practically see Chan’s grin. You playfully glared at the Bluetooth screen, knowing he couldn’t see you but feeling the need to do it anyway.

Beside you, Seungmin stopped the car at a red light. You looked over to find him openly staring at you now. Curious, you waited to see what he would do. Deliberately, he reached over and brushed your nipple with the knuckles of his first two fingers. With a small gasp, you arched forward a little, trying to press against his fingers that hovered right over you. He smirked and pinched your nipple between those two knuckles, pulling a moan from you.

Chan made an inquisitive noise over the phone. “Baby girl?”

“He’s playing with my nipple,” you answered on a gasp as he took the opportunity to gently tug and roll the nipple he had between his knuckles.

“Her nipples are very sensitive,” Seungmin commented softly.

Chan chuckled. “You two have fun. I’ll see you tomorrow. Oh, and take some good photos for me, yeah?”

Seungmin raised an eyebrow at you as Chan hung up. “He likes photos. Videos too, actually. So does Hyune. Well, they all do, but those two especially.”

“Mm,” he hummed, glancing at the traffic light then switching his attention to your other nipple. The light turned green and he pulled away, smirking at your whimper.

That continued at the next red light and the one after that, reaching over to fondle your boobs, then pulling away. You knew, logically, he had to drive. But your body did not care about logic. Then you reached the last red light before pulling into his and Felix’s apartment building. This light always took so long, something you usually complained about. You were surprised when Seungmin threw the car in park, having assumed you were in for a longer teasing session. Instead, he unbuckled himself and leaned across the center console.

Bracing himself with one hand, he brought the other up to cup your boob, leaned in, and sucked your nipple into his mouth through your wet shirt. On a long moan, you brought your hand up to tangle your fingers in his hair. He gently bit your nipple as he pulled just far enough away to switch sides. You squeezed your thighs together, trying to give yourself some friction and the movement was not lost on Seungmin – you felt him smirk against you.

After another moment, he pulled away completely, buckled himself back in, put the car back in gear, and looked for all the world like he was patiently waiting for the light to change and not like he’d just had your tits in his mouth. You whined, wiggling in your seat and he just laughed at you. Your movement made you realize just how wet you were – your panties were ruined for sure.

Soon enough, you’d pulled into his building’s parking lot and he parked the car. The trip from the car to the actual building was mostly covered, but there was a short part that was open. You lingered there for a moment, genuinely enjoying the rain, but also to resoak your shirt. Just because. Seungmin tugged your hand, pulling you behind him to the, thankfully, deserted lobby and then elevator. He and Felix lived in one of the uppermost floors, so you figured you’d settle in to wait.

Seungmin had other ideas. He stepped up behind you, pressing himself against your back where you could feel his cock pressing into you. He wordlessly handed you his phone, camera opened on selfie mode, then wrapped his arms around you, bringing his hands up to caress the sides of your boobs. You sighed with pleasure, leaning into him and letting your head tip back against him. He quickly switched from gentle caresses to teasing your nipples through your clothes again.

“Take a picture, Y/nnie. The old man said he wanted some, right?” You did as Seungmin instructed, snapping a photo of you with your head back against his shoulder, eyes partly closed in pleasure, Seungmin pinching both nipples while he looked at the camera through his eyebrows, a mischievous smile that you didn’t see, playing on his lips.

He took the phone back from you, quickly sending the photo to Chan. Then he spun you around and crowded you against the wall of the elevator, before leaning in to claim your lips in what started as a sweet kiss. The kiss quickly became heated, Seungmin tilting your head and sliding his tongue between your lips. You moaned into his mouth, clutching his shirt in your hand as you felt his hand slide up your thigh, under your skirt, and brush against your clothed cunt.

He chuckled against your lips. “All this from a little teasing?” You whimpered as he pressed the heel of his hand against your clit. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of your panties, tugging them down far enough that you were able to step out of them. Then he bent down, picked them up, and stuffed them in his pocket. The elevator dinged, arriving at his floor, as he stood back up. He let you walk ahead of him down the short hall to his and Felix’s apartment, wrapping his arms around you and covering your boobs with his hands. “For your modesty, in case the neighbors come out.” The way he was groping you said otherwise, but you didn’t protest.

Getting down the hall was a little slow with the way he was holding onto you and being pressed against his chest. With every movement, you could feel his cock rubbing against you. And yeah, maybe you had soaked your panties from ‘a little teasing’, but he was hard as a rock and you hadn’t even touched him. And hey, he was groping your boobs the whole way down the hall, so pressing against his dick with every move you possibly could was absolutely fair as far as you were concerned.

Finally in the apartment, he spun you around again, pressing you against the back of the couch and practically attacking your mouth. You’d have grinned if you’d been able to, pleased you got him to let go of the, so far, methodical teasing. One hand dipped behind you and it felt like he grabbed something off the couch. He pulled away from you, holding one of the throw pillows that came with the couch. He stepped back and dropped the pillow onto the floor, grabbing his phone out of his pocket as he did. With just a look, you understood exactly what he wanted and were all too pleased to give it.

You dropped to your knees on the pillow and reached for the button and zip of his jeans. With quick movements, you tugged down his jeans and boxers, freeing his cock. You glanced up at him as you wrapped your hand around the base of his cock, stroking a couple of times. You held eye contact as you leaned in and licked a stripe up the underside of him, pleased with the huff of air that escaped him as he watched you. You wrapped your lips around his tip, swirling your tongue over him and tasting the precum that leaked out of him. Then you looked down, and focused on your goal – making him lose that composure that had been taunting you for nearly an hour.

He wasn’t as big as Chan and you’d had plenty of practice at deep throating your boyfriend, so it was comparatively easy for you to take all of Seungmin. You quickly sank down on his cock, pressing your nose into his pubes and swallowing around his head.

“Oh God,” he groaned out above you, reaching down to tangle a hand in your hair. Pleased with yourself, you set a steady rhythm, pulling back until only his head was in your mouth, then bobbing down to take all of him in again. After just a minute or two, the grip in your hair tightened and he held your head still. Pulling out of your mouth, he looked down at you. “Okay?” he asked, rolling his hips so his tip slid past your lips just enough for you to understand what he was asking.

In response, you just dropped your jaw. He groaned and thrust into your waiting mouth. Blissed out, loving the feeling of your mouth being fucked, you closed your eyes and didn’t notice when Seungmin snapped a couple of photos to send to Chan. Nor did you really notice that you’d subconsciously spread your knees to sink further against the pillow under you. But you did feel when your wet core made contact with the material. You moaned around Seungmin, rolling your hips against the pillow. It was frustratingly little friction.

You brought a hand down between your legs and Seungmin stopped thrusting, pulling out of your mouth. You whined your protest, eyes snapping open. “Hands,” he said, taking his own hand out of your hair. You lifted your hands and he put one on each of his own hips. “Keep them there.” You whimpered as you understood you’d be getting no friction except the pillow. With a smirk, he buried his hand back in your hair and his cock back in your mouth.

Your hips rolled of their own volitation against the pillow, timed with his thrusts in your mouth. This time, you were looking up at him when he took a photo.

“You look so good, Y/nnie,” he looked in control still, but Seungmin’s beautiful voice was breathy. “I can’t believe Chan’s willing to share you with the way you look.” You moaned around his cock as you managed to hit your clit perfectly on the pillow. You could feel your orgasm building when he said, “Almost. Can I cum in your mouth, Y/nnie?” You moan again, being the only sound you could make to agree. “Don’t swallow right away, okay? Show me.”

After a few more thrusts, he pulled part of the way out and shot his load into your mouth. As soon as he pulled free, you did as he said, opening your mouth to show him his cum pooled on your tongue. He pressed a foot against your hip, stopping your movement, causing you to whine low in your throat. He just chuckled as he snapped a photo. “Swallow.” The way the word lifted up at the end almost made it sound like a request, but you knew it wasn’t. “Good girl.” You shivered at the praise. He grabbed your hands that were still on his hips and helped you to your feet.

You stood on shaky legs and had to lean into him as the pair of you walked to his room, letting him support at least part of your weight.

“You almost came on that pillow, didn’t you?” he asked, opening his bedroom door.

“Mm-hm,” you admitted. Had you been looking at him, you may have been concerned about the grin that flashed across his face at your admission.

Seungmin had you caged under him on his bed, pressing kisses to your neck, down over your collar bones, across the tops of your boobs and the valley between them. You had a tight grip on one of his shoulders, your other hand fisted into the sheets beside you, as he thrust two fingers into your pussy, his thumb pressed against your clit.

He was watching your face from the corner of his eye as his fingers sped up and he crooked them up in a ‘come here’ movement. Still riled up from the just-barely-enough friction of the throw pillow, it didn’t take long for the coil in your belly to start tightening again. You could feel yourself getting closer, rolling your hips against Seungmin’s hand.

“Ah, God. So close,” you moaned out, clenching around his fingers. Just as your orgasm started to crest over you, Seungmin quickly pulled his fingers out of you. “No,” you whined. “Minnie!”

“I was thinking about it in the car, actually,” he said casually, bringing his hand up to gently caress your belly. “I know you have Chan wrapped around every one of your fingers. I’d bet all you have to do is bat your pretty eyes at Felix and probably Hyunjin and they’ll give you whatever you want. I want to think Iyen-ah has more will to resist caving to you, but I’m sure Changbin doesn’t.” He sighed, pressing a kiss to your jaw. “You’re spoiled, aren’t you, pretty girl? All these men at your beck and call, ready to do whatever you want.”

You whined as he started kissing down your torso, kissing over your belly, then making himself comfortable between your thighs. He wrapped his arms around your thighs, keeping them spread open for himself and pressed kisses to your inner thighs, alternating sides. He sucked a bruise high on your thigh before pressing a kiss to your wet folds. He flattened his tongue against you, licking a thick stripe up, and flicking your clit with the tip of his tongue when he reached it.

He focused on your cunt, methodical, like he’d been when he’d been teasing you in the car. He kept changing what he was doing just enough that your pleasure would build, but you weren’t getting close to coming. He’d gently suck on your clit, pressing the tip of his tongue to the bundle of nerves. Then he’d move back to licking at your folds without actually penetrating you. He’d move away to kiss your thighs or lower belly for a brief moment, then dip back down again and shove his tongue into you.

Then he changed tactic and actually focused on getting you to cum. He buried his face into you, eating you out like a man starved. Your thighs started to quiver over his shoulders, pussy clenching against his tongue.

He pulled away. You kicked your legs, as much as you could, in frustration at being denied again. “Seungmin! If you don’t let me cum, I swear I’ll get up out of this bed and call anyone else to come take care of me.”

“No you won’t,” he said confidently. You groaned, slamming your head back against the pillow because you knew he was right. You wanted to cum, of course you did, but you wanted Seungmin. You huffed, annoyed, as he laughed. He came up to your eye level, pressing light, teasing kisses to your cheeks. “How about this – I promise you’ll cum before I do.”

You reached up and grabbed his face between both of your hands. “I’ll hold you to that,” you tried to sound stern but the smile on his face told you it didn’t work at all. With another huff, you tilted his face so you could properly claim his lips again. You wrapped your arms over his shoulders and let yourself get lost in the feeling of his mouth on yours.

You felt him shift above you and then you felt the tip of his cock pressing against your folds. In one smooth, steady motion, he pushed into you, bottoming out immediately. You moaned into his mouth, fingers digging into his back. He broke away from your kiss with a small, pleased smile on his face. He readjusted his hold on your hips as he steadily started thrusting into you. Then he stilled, reaching behind himself.

“Forgot about the old man’s request,” he explained, holding up his phone. You scowled at him, but he wasn’t taking a picture of your face, instead focusing the camera lens on his cock buried in your pussy.

He leaned up, setting the phone on the bedside table. Then he leaned back again, pulled out most of the way, and snapped his hips forward. You gasped out, a little shocked as it was the roughest he’d been since you got to his room. He set a fast pace, pistoning into you as you lifted a leg to wrap over his hip. You could feel your orgasm approaching again, and fast. You tried to downplay it, tried to keep your moans from getting too high pitched. But you couldn’t control the way your walls fluttered around his cock.

Seungmin chuckled when he pulled out, denying you again. He lifted the leg that you’d wrapped over his hip, pressing a kiss to your knee as he used that leg to twist your lower body so both of your legs were bent and on one side of his body.

“Okay?” he asked.

“No! I wanna cum,” you whined.

He chuckled. “I meant, are you okay here? Not uncomfortable or anything?”

“I’m okay,” you agreed, still scowling and feeling petulant.

“Good,” he smiled, leaning over you and sliding back into you.

You wrapped your hand around the back of his neck, pulling him down to kiss you again. As he started to thrust faster, he kept his eyes locked on your face. You weren’t sure why exactly, but something in his expression made you realize that he’d not looked away from you since you got into his apartment, with the very brief exception of when he was taking off both of your shirts. He hadn’t even closed his eyes that you were aware of. Like he needed to see your face the whole time.

The thought of that brought your orgasm just a little closer and had you clenching around him again. This time, he reached down, lifting your leg just enough that he could slide his other hand between them. Quickly, he found your clit, flicking it with the pad of his thumb in time with his thrusts. You were wary as you felt your orgasm building yet again, but this time, he didn’t stop.

You tossed your head back against the pillow, nearly screaming as you felt your orgasm crash through you, felt yourself gush around his cock. After just a few more thrusts, he stilled, coming deep inside you.

After a moment to catch your breath, he straightened your legs, bringing your one leg back to the opposite side of his body so you were laying splayed out on his bed again.

Seungmin reached over to grab his phone where’d he’d put it on his bedside table. You blew a kiss at the phone as he snapped a photo of you lying in his bed, his cum dribbling out of you. After sending it, he leaned back up to kiss you. After a moment, he broke away.

“Lemme get something to get you cleaned up, then cuddles. If you want.”

“That sounds great,” you agreed.

“I could do it.” You both looked over to Seungmin’s door to see Felix standing there, staring at you. “Clean you up, I mean. Please?” He sounded breathy, desperate almost. You wondered how long he’d been home. Seungmin turned from him to look back at you with a shrug that said, ‘sure, if you wanna’.

“Come here, Lixie,” you held a hand out to him, beckoning him closer. The smile that split his face reminded you of a kid in a candy store being told he could have anything he wanted. He wasted absolutely no time in crawling onto the bed between your legs. You giggled when he sprawled partly on Seungmin rather than waiting for the other man to move.

Felix put his hands on the inside of your thighs, pressing down lightly to keep them apart. He leaned in, first licking up Seungmin’s cum that had already dripped out of you.

Seungmin, meanwhile, got out from under Felix and sat up beside your head, reaching for his phone again. This time, rather than taking a picture, he started recording a video. You threw your head back, tangling your fingers in his hair as Felix buried his tongue in your cunt. The slurping sounds coming from him were enough to have you clenching around his tongue.

“Ah – Lix, you like that?” you panted out, after seeing that Seungmin was videoing.

“Mm-hm,” he nodded against you, not taking his tongue out of you.

“Does Minnie’s cum taste good in my pussy?”

“So good,” he moaned, the sound slightly muffled and vibrating against you. You carded your fingers into his hair, holding him against you. Not that he needed the encouragement to not move, you knew he’d happily stay with his mouth between your thighs until someone pulled him away.

So you were surprised when he did pull away from you. He crawled up your body and pressed his lips to yours. With no hesitation, he pressed the tip of his tongue to your lips and you parted them. You groaned out, fingers tightening in his hair, when you tasted the mix of yours and Seungmin’s cum that Felix pushed into your mouth on his tongue. You sucked on his tongue, swallowing back everything he’d brought up to you.

After a moment, Felix pulled back and gave you an angelic smile completely at odds with what he’d just done. Then he dropped back down to your pussy. His actions were far more purposeful now and you decided he had to have been home for a while as he was absolutely trying to get you off as quickly as possible. He, not that long ago, spent an hour lazily eating you out and knew exactly the kind of movements and pressure that would build you up quickly. He focused on your clit with his lips and tongue, sliding two fingers into your pussy and thrusting steadily.

Beside you, Seungmin just watched. “You really are spoiled, aren’t you?”

“Mm-hm,” you moaned out.

“Lucky us, getting to be the ones who spoil you.” You managed a smile up at him. He wrapped a hand around the back of your neck, lifting you up slightly so he could lean down to claim your lips. You tried to kiss him, but it felt like you mostly moaned against his lips, not that he seemed to mind.

Felix chose that time to crook his fingers, rubbing against your g spot, and suck harshly on your clit. Your hips arched off the bed, pressing into his face as your orgasm washed through you. He paused his actions, looking up at you then flicking his eyes to Seungmin.

After a moment, you’d caught your breath and said, “Minnie, I think Lix wants you to fuck him.”

A short while later, you sat on Felix’s abs and watched his face as Seungmin pushed into him. He gripped your thighs, fingers digging in enough to leave bruises, eyes rolling back on a deep groan. You leaned forward, almost laying on his chest, and peppered kisses along his jaw while he took several deep breaths, adjusting to the stretch he was feeling.

Had you thought about the position you were in, maybe you wouldn’t have been surprised. As it was, you squealed in surprised when, without warning, Seungmin thrust two fingers into you. You heard him chuckle behind you but couldn’t find the space in your mind to care right then. He thrust his fingers into you a few times before pulling out, causing you to whine.

“Well, do something about it yourself then,” he teased.

You turned to glare at him, but realized he was completely right. You sat up and scooted back, then lifted your hips, gripped Felix’s cock and sank down on him in one smooth motion. You smiled down at him as you felt his hips kick up.

Behind you, Seungmin started slowly thrusting his hips, pulling little moans from the man under you. For a moment, you were content to just watch Felix’s expressive face. Then his hips bucked up into you. “Y/nnie,” he whined.

You rolled your hips, slowly at first, matching Seungmin’s rhythm as best you could. When he picked up his speed, so did you. You loved watching Felix fall apart under you and imagined the others felt the same way about you.

Seungmin reached around you with both hands, latching onto your boobs again. He alternated rolling and pinching your nipples and you had just enough presence of mind to wonder that he was able to play with you while thrusting into Felix.

“’M close,” Felix gasped out under you, running one hand up your thigh to press his thumb to your clit. He rubbed circles against the bundle of nerves, applying just the right amount of pressure. Between all three sets of stimulation, you were coming undone quickly. As you felt your orgasm building, you were losing your rhythm on Felix, but neither of you cared. It wasn’t until Seungmin leaned forward and harshly sucked on the spot where your neck and shoulder met that you felt that coil snap and you came, clenching around Felix.

With a deep groan, he followed you, filling you with his warmth.

You dropped forward, laying on his chest. He wrapped his arms around you as, behind you, Seungmin started thrusting harder, chasing his own orgasm. You rocked against Felix’s body with every thrust from Seungmin, letting out little moans at the way Felix’s softening cock kept moving in you. After a few moments, Seungmin stilled and you felt more than heard Felix’s moan as he came inside him.

Seungmin draped himself over your back, reaching around you to grip Felix’s side. You had the fleeting thought that you all should clean up, or at least move, but decided you weren’t going to be the one to break up this cuddle. Not with the way Seungmin nuzzled his nose into the side of your neck.

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Taglist: @skzficpriv @strayk1ds143 @vegetablesarefuntables  @imagine-all-the-imagines  @yeetmylifeu  @wolfo2027  @vampkennedy

[netherfeildren]

Busy, Dying. Part 2;

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: In an in-between place called his life, Joel Miller is alone. In search of a cure. In need of a miracle. In want of God.

Can I interest you in a cure for loneliness? She'd asked him in a language without words. Taking it is the easy part. Letting her go is impossible.

-OR-

an a/b/o soulmates AU

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: No Outbreak AU, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Soulmates AU, Infidelity, Cheating, They're behaving badly and doing things they shouldn't be doing idk, HEA!!!!!, Angst, Fluff & Smut, Scenting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Group Therapy, Social Experiments, Explicit Sexual Content, Dom/sub Undertones, Complicated family dynamics, Discussions of self harm, Depression, Existential Angst, He’s a loser your honor!!!

Word Count: 6.3K

Read on AO3

Part 2;

It is your own conspiracy that if you say the words three times in the mirror—I am so alone I am so alone I am so alone—the feeling will go away. Banished ghost. 

You commit yourself to this practice religiously for three weeks before you feel you must absolutely return to the meetings held in the basement of the Emmanuel Episcopal Church or you might just die. 

The first Friday back, you watch him. He blunders around the crowd, struggling to find a seat when he rushes in late that evening, trying to sit as far away from you as possible and, to his great misfortune, ending up right behind you. Squashed between two old ladies, his big body comically trying to fold itself into the tight rows. 

You laugh at him the whole way through the meeting. 

After, he’s like a raging bull. Scowly and unapproachable as the omegas in the group inevitably make their meager attempts to talk to him. It makes it all the more irreconcilable, a man like that here in a place like this—all the while with a wife at home. 

You wonder about her. 

“That one has a bad temper,” Maria warns as the two of you watch him. They seem to know each other in some way outside of this church, and it takes everything in you not to beg for details. A brother far away in Wyoming, Maria tells you later. “Big and hairy like a bad, lonely dog.”

You say, “I think he’s shy.” 

She watches you very peculiarly after that, and tells you, “You’re lost, girl. Joel Miller isn’t what you need finding you.”

But you know this, you assure her, and you continue to avoid him. 

The following Friday, he’s the one playing the disappearing act. The next week, as well—no show. You start to dread even your own shadow, wondering where he is, wondering if he’s ever coming back, if he has children and how old he is. Wondering if he wonders about you. Wondering why you’re so obsessed.

Too full of curiosity for your own good, you hover when he finally appears once again. Circling him and Maria, desperate for any sort of information. 

His wife had been sick, he says. He’d had to take her to the doctor. 

You wonder if her sickness might be a baby—sick to your stomach at the thought of it yourself. 

Finally, the week after, the two of you break your fast from one another. 

“You’ve been ignoring me,” he says, coming up from behind, ambushing you once again at the dessert and coffee trough. This is supposed to be a safe space, yet it feels anything but with him near. 

“No I haven’t.”

“You’re not supposed to tell lies in church. It’s a sin.”

“I don’t believe in sin.” You turn to face him, and your stomach hurts. 

He’s got on a dark green fisherman’s sweater—well worn but knit sturdy. A thing that looks as if it’s been his for years. 

And you’re feeling thin-skinned and unable to face him today, for no good reason. You don't know this man. You have no right to punish him with your silence, no right to be angry, to wonder about him. Going out of your way to avoid him is childish when you’re supposed to be here to get to know people. But that sternness from before, the one that looked too heavy for him to carry, has been wiped away from his face now, and in its place he only looks very earnest, like he really wants to talk to you. And it’s only that, well you don’t know him, yes, but you’d felt that you needed to, or that you would. That you were meant to find him in this place, and you’re angry at yourself and at him at how wrong you’d been, still, even after all these weeks of radio silence while he’d been busy caring for his sick wife. 

“Me either,” he gives a small huff of laughter, shoving his fists into the pockets of his dark jeans. 

Setting the donut in your hand back on the table—rude and gross, but it’s an afterthought—you wipe your sweet sweaty palm against your hip, appetite all gone now. The basement is suddenly unbearably hot, your heart beating in your throat. 

“Anywho, I gotta run. Somewhere to be—” you mumble, brushing past him. There’s a sudden rush of itching heat burning its way up your chest, your throat, ants crawling over your scalp. The room is stifling, your limbs leaden and too many bodies; so many disgusting, clashing scents: pheromones, and desperation and such terrible loneliness, and him at the center of it, ambrosial.

You’ll have to recite your mantra more faithfully in the mirror every night, not a single miss. Remind yourself, I am so alone, so that the feeling might go away, and you’ll forget him and the way he smells and his eyes like amber green river stones, more quickly. 

“Whoah, hold on,” he calls after you, following to the exit and up the steps to the world outside of this church. You’d brought a coat today, unable to enjoy the cold the way you usually do, uncharacteristically chill, aching limbs, miserable in the biting morning air. He calls your name, and you clutch the wool against your chest, trying to hurry away from his much longer legs that catch you anyways. 

Suddenly, though, you change your mind. Whirling around to look up, you stop your running, and he’s right there, so close. “I haven’t been ignoring you. You were gone.” Mind changing again, your gaze falls, unable to hold his eyes. You watch his left hand flex like he wants to do something with it. 

“I know. I’m sorry.”

A scoff. “What are you apologizing to me for?” 

“You’re the most interesting person I’ve ever met in my entire life.” He says it quietly by way of explanation, like another apology. 

“You must not have met very many interesting people.”

It feels hot and cold at the same time out here. Your stomach still hurts. Your eyes ache as if you could cry, which is ridiculous because you have absolutely no reason to cry. 

“Maybe not,” he says very low. It seems he’s drifting closer, like you’ll float away. A car honks its horn loudly somewhere in the background, and you still can’t look at his face. His own coat is clutched in his fist and now the honker is shouting too, expletives and God’s name being taken in vain. 

“You should go back in there,” you tip your chin at the depths you’d just fled from, stealing a quick glance at his face, “Find someone else who’s interesting.”

He grunts once, a wordless no and lifts his coat to drape it over your shoulders—you decide you’re even colder now, you don’t think you’ll ever be warm again—and takes yours from your listless grip, draping it over his elbow. 

This man. “Aren’t you here to get to know people?” You demand, finally looking up at him angrily. 

“No,” he shakes his head. “Let’s go for a walk.” 

His palm at your bicep urging you towards Arlington and the garden sends all sound skittering out of your ears. He reminds you of your earlier words, that he might like to walk, and you can hear yourself agreeing while you look up at the muted light of the late November afternoon leaching through the cloud cover. Through the wool and cotton you feel your skin sucking heat from that singular point of contact, warming you entirely.

It had been blisteringly cold last night, the alluring taste of incumbent winter in the air, and a vicious frost had ermined all the tree trunks within the Boston Public Garden, roughened the surface of the grass. 

Joel chooses a quiet spot by the pond, the willow weeps above your head and all around the two of you the sharp autumn air is lightly laced with the fragrance of leaf rot. An elderly couple floats serenely in a lone swan boat at the center of the pond, not a ripple in the surface, as if they weren’t really there. 

Helping you to sit, he gently pulls his coat from your shoulders, laying the garment for you to rest on protected from the frigid ground and carefully looping your arms through your own coat now, he pulls the excess fabric of his up, draped over your shoulders once again, leaving you securely enveloped from the cold. 

“Here, let me help you,” he says, and the sudden gentleness in his voice makes you want to burst into tears. 

His character, that of some matryoshkin sort, one embedded in another in another, never knowing which is the realest one, the truest one, which will come next. Angry snarling dog one day, a gentleness that burns the next. You have the sense that a person could know him for decades and still never reach the center, never cease to discover more. 

Sitting before you—you perch alone on the island of his given coat—he tilts his head, leaning back braced on thick arms to look up at the swaying vines with just an impression of brilliant yellow-green, as if that were the color of the air. A sudden breeze stirs the softness of his hair, lifting a stubborn cowlick, and at that exact moment, the cloud cover parts on the face of the sun. In the brilliant shaft of buttered sunlight, his dark curls glint with specks of purest silver, leaving you wishing you could touch the fan of fine lines at the corner of his eyes, feel his age with your fingertips. 

“You’re angry with me,” he finally says, head still tilted towards the sky. You watch him very closely, learning. His voice is deep, quiet. He looks tired, the violet shadows beneath the brilliant hazel eyes. Still beautiful, the full, slightly sulky curve of his mouth surrounded by dark beard. He is everything, all of him, masculine. 

“It doesn’t matter.”

Finally, he looks at you, too. He’s got a big head, proportionate to his big body, that falls back heavily. You can’t help smiling at him, it feels too natural. 

“Now you’re honest.”

“I wouldn’t tell a lie here,” you say, and he sighs like you’re a supremely difficult little omega, too impossible to be reasoned with. Turning back to the sky, eyes closed now, there’s a smile across his mouth also, and you wish the two of you could sit here and laugh forever in this moment.

The silence between the two of you is marvelous enough to be unnerving. Settled beneath his great coat, you’d never believed you could feel the cold so little—learning every fine detail that makes up the man. Even inches away from him, he seems utterly unattainable, each of the two of you existing on your separate islands—you trace the woolen edge of his coat against the ground—some twenty years your senior, likely, and married. But the cold has given you such a feeling of grounding buoyancy. You’d awoken angry, miserable, so full of despair you would’ve been sick with it if it were possible. And now—you hadn’t felt this alive or awake in years, perhaps your entire life. He is a marvel, and there are bubbles in your head threatening to take you floating away, and yet, your feet are firmly melded to the ground in reality. 

How attractive, how delicious the prospect of intimacy is with someone who you know will never grant it. It fills you with something ferocious or hungry or snapping, something pathetic that makes you want it all the worse. And he, with a gravitational pull too strong to even think of escaping.

Yes. You hadn't felt so happy in years. 

“How old are you?” Breaking the silence, you ask him.

“Forty three.”

“You have a brother.” He nods. “I have one too.”

“Do you speak to yours? I don’t.”

“He calls me once a month. It’s all he can bear of me.”

“Mine won’t speak to me.” He sounds sad saying so. 

“Why not?”

“I hurt him. Scared him.”

“My brother, he says my whole life is papier-mâché. My values are all wrong, I’m a crowd-pleaser. It’s probably true.” You’d felt it impossible to better yourself, and yet still, you tried for him even when you didn’t want to. “How did you hurt him?”

“You can’t change a man, only make him more secure. Depending on his character that may then bring happiness or strength or success. Tommy’s failure of this in me was more than he could bear, also.”

The willow becomes your confessional. “I spiked my own drink once just to see what it would be like. A doctor told me afterwards that I have self destructive tendencies. I want to hurt myself, but I don’t want to actually feel the hurt, which makes me all the more addicted to it. A supernumerary on the stage of my own life, too afraid of hurting and hungry for it at the same time.”

The heel of his left hand, you notice, is bearing down on an old acorn burr, and yet he seems not to feel the pain. 

He’s looking at you very intently now. Some glimmering streak in his eye. It almost looks aggressive, and a muscle flutters madly at the edge of his jaw. He straightens, sitting up to face you. The acorn burr is left flattened and disfigured in his wake.

“The last doctor I saw told me I was depressed. I never went back after.”

“Are you?”

He laughs surprisingly full of humor and then instantly serious again. “Probably. I’ve been watching my life, scratching at it trying to get in. I can’t. It’s right there.” The matryoshka shuffles, locked in his melancholy one moment, spilling brightness the next. 

You want to understand him so badly your hands shake with it. 

“What’s your favorite thing about your work?” You ask him. 

Where does his wife think he is right now?

“That’s a nice question. Maybe…” he thinks a moment, “Getting to make things that’ll go in people’s homes. The idea that something that came from me will be surrounded by a family.”

You can’t help yourself. “Why aren’t you at home, then?” You ask him imploringly, unbearably sad for him, sick with need, desperate to understand what it is he’s doing here, and all at once, utterly certain of what it is you are. You breathe him in deeply. “Don’t you love your wife?” The question is posed with no bravery, and yet it still comes out into the world demanding. 

He clicks his tongue, taken aback, a shocked breath, maybe even a small, reproving smile. A hundred different emotions coming to life across his face in that single moment. 

“I don’t know,” he finally answers. “I remember loving her. Maybe. At best? She’s a stranger. At worst? An excuse?” The way he says it, like a question—he’s asking you, not telling, for he isn’t even sure of it himself. You’ve caught him off guard. 

“No…” the click of his tongue snaps you to attention, “That's too generous. We’re trapped in a box together, but completely strange to one another.” It suddenly feels like he shouldn’t be telling you this—about her. You’re sure he shouldn’t be. 

“Do you hate each other?” you ask anyway. There’s something…your only example of love and marriage being two people who had always hated one another and filled the home where their children lived with more hate. It’s difficult to fathom something different than what that had looked like. 

If you were truly brave, you’d ask if he has children, too. 

“No,” he says immediately, a non option, his brow furrowed. “That would take too much effort.” 

Now you understand. He’s alone anyways. The feeling of urgency within you mounts. You’re frightened by this moment of discovery. 

“You’re Southern. Your accent…” You can’t discuss this anymore, needing to change the subject. 

“Texas.”

“When did you leave?”

“Long time ago.”

“Do you miss it?”

At his, he laughs like the question is ironic. “No. Where are you from?”

“Sometimes it feels like I can’t even remember.”

And as if he’d pulled the feeling straight from your mouth, he tells you that he understands what that’s like, and you can’t help it when you reach for his hand, being as careful with him as you would any shy creature, needing to hold him. 

-

“I’ve never been in love,” you tell him, childish look of recklessness and valor coming across your face as you pick up on the earlier thread of conversation you’d frightened yourself with. “It seems too daring, even grotesque.” 

He thinks he wants to capture that look in a bottle and take it everywhere with him. His entire body throbs with a heartbeat and the shape of your hand fits his as if every joint and muscle and soft ligament had been specifically designed for him to hold, filled suddenly with a terrible sense of foreboding. Looking at you, one just knows there’ll be a broken heart. 

Your small thumb smooths gently over his large one, and he marvels that such an exquisite creature would touch him. God, but you’re beautiful. Your touch, soft and enticing and painful all at once. No one had ever been so gentle with him.

“Won’t you tell me a secret?” you beg.

He will. He might give you anything in this moment. In the weeks he’d been kept away, he’d desperately counted the days and minutes until he could return to that place of worship and honesty. 

“I think about you,” voice hushed, the shaking of the leaves not loud enough to mask the soft breath you suck in as he gives you his confession. 

He maps the architecture of the small hands in his grasp, fingers tracing fingers, uncured clay fragile before the heat. He feels tired and strangely spent, almost drunk on your touch. His thumb slides upwards, marveling at the softness of your wrist, and then there, beneath the shivering distraction of your pulse and his disturbing search, the unlocked fragrance of your scent gland. It drifts towards him slowly like smoke rising from sleep.  

The air seems to pulse between the two of you with heat and premonition. That singular moment before everything goes terribly wrong, he can see it in your eyes. Such vibrancy, excitement, recklessness turned dangerous. 

“We should…” you feel him begin to pull away, grappling to hold on to the moment and his hand, “We should fuck.” He takes himself back, letting you go. Where else was this being led?

He cringes away from you. “Excuse me?” 

“Sex. You’ve had it before.” His mind reels. His body’s reaction at hearing your mouth say these things, the way it shapes them, the soft, full lips wrapped around the words.  

Looking away, he watches the pond’s couple help each other out of the swan. In his periphery, he can see you begin to bristle at his silence. 

“Don’t be peevish. It’s unbecoming.” 

He can’t help feeling angry. “I’m not. I’m old enough to be your father.” 

And you laugh at him. You’re deviating paths now, going opposite ways and angry at one another for it. 

“We could pretend that—if that’s what you want,” you say, voice husky and seductive. 

A small palm smooths up his thigh and his gaze snaps fire at you, hand clamping painfully at your wrist, fingernails digging at your gland, disturbing more of that gorgeous scent into the air. 

You make a pained sound. He needs to leave. He needs to never see you again.

“Don’t be disgusting,” he shoots back, hot everywhere. 

“Don’t be a prude.” He flings your wrist away, and you cradle it against your chest as if he’d hurt you. The heat turns to guilt pulsing through his limbs. 

Warring to wounded then, your eyes. You wrap your fingers around your discarded wrist. “What if we lose everything? What if tomorrow’s the end of the world? What if we’re so thoroughly cured of our loneliness after all this is done, we never feel like we need another person this way again?” 

His muscles tense with the need to flee or attack, the thought of you needing him, of being needed—he’s like some creature coming upon its mate. 

Despite his age, he had never tried to truly seduce anyone. He had never truly wanted anyone. Not in any real and base sort of way. Like an alpha. Desire for him had been a mute and ordinary thing. But he could have you now, turned into a thing he’d never been before, he could mount you and rut you into the dirt like an animal. Never so much a product of his designation as he feels in this instant. 

He can’t even form word, and your body seems to pulse against his with embarrassed heat and indignation. 

“Have you ever even fucked an omega?” You spit at him meanly. 

“We shouldn’t be talking about this.” 

Voice carefully restrained, each syllable off his tongue is measured with his tenuous control. 

“Tell me anyways,” you demand, shoving his coat off your shoulders being the thing that almost makes him lose it. 

“It’s cold. Put that back on.”

“Tell me.” And he shouldn’t. You should have no sway over him. No demand of his honesty or anything else that belongs to him.

“Once. Only because I wanted to know what it was like.” He’s man enough to admit to himself the embarrassment he feels telling you this.

But it seems to quell some tremor in your eyes, and you sit back, palm petting at your throat as if you’re trying to soothe yourself. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, gaze averted, glassy, delirious look there. “I’ve always gotten my feelings hurt easily. I’m—” you shake your head quickly, sucking on your lip. “...too sensitive. Sometimes I feel like I’ll float away if I don’t find anyone to hold me down.” 

He should tell you that you’re not, wants to, but the image of you weak and pinned beneath him churns in his mind. Whole body aching suddenly, needing his hands on you before he does something truly heinous—he straightens abruptly, abandoning your reassuring warmth. Feeling suddenly cold despite the sweat dotting his spine. 

Without another word he turns to leave you there, alone, while the swan pair watches from across the pond as the two of you part ways. 

The next morning he awakens stiff and burning, his cock a brand of heat against his stomach. And works his entire day in a static haze, lavender spots at the edge of his vision where all he can think about is how you smell and the way your hand feels in his. By five o’clock, his fingers ache, spasming painfully from gripping his tools too hard. Breaking his weeks-long habit, he decides to attend the Saturday night meeting, full of constrained energy and sullen moodiness. Reasoning that a pretty, young girl like you wouldn’t waste her weekend in the basement of a church abandoned by God. 

And is sick to his stomach with equal measures elation and dread when he spots you sitting amongst the crowd of metal folding chairs—wearing his coat. He doesn’t hesitate even a little when he claims the seat next to yours. 

The two of you sit in strained silence the entire meeting, the other alphas and omegas surrounding throwing alarmed and intrigued glances your way as the tension brews hotter and more frenzied, scent mounting.

His body hurts. This is a painful kind of lust. 

He listens to the speakers tonight with only half an ear, instead, occupied with the memory of what you’d looked like the other week eating a jelly and cream filled donut, imagining what your mouth would look like smeared with his blood and come. He can smell your body, how hot and trembling nervous you are. So unlike all that blistering, innocent valor from yesterday. 

The omega with the cruel husband turned sick one is taking her turn again tonight. Now that he finally looks at her, she has hair that at one time was vibrant red, now turned a softened copper threaded through with white. Time is such a painful, slow thing, Joel thinks. 

“Have you ever been with someone you knew you were too good for?” The omega asks the room, while the one beside him begins to shake, knee jolting nervously.

You’re anxious, and it makes him angry that you should be made so by his actions. 

Too rough for forbearance, his palm clamps down tightly on your knee, holding it still, and you make some supplicant whimper at the back of your throat. Almost imperceptibly, you draw away from him, the line of your shoulders growing rigid, and a wild, irrational sense of loss steals his breath. 

He’s been so busy lately, distracted. He’s hungry, overstrained, anxious, himself. He doesn’t mean to be brusque with you. He just can’t help himself. 

Would we be here if we had? Someone lost in the crowd pipes back. 

The woman laughs, she has a kind face. “Me either.” You shove his palm off your leg as if it burns. “But there was someone… once. A chance, maybe. Someone I didn’t choose but should have. We were friends. We came very close to being happy.” 

And Joel suddenly feels a wave of desolation so overwhelming wash over him. He turns to look at you, your vibrating profile, so pretty, and he’s gentle this time when he touches your knee. Just to feel you. How terrible, he thinks, to only come very close to being happy. 

The speaker changes, and then it’s Maria’s voice talking to them all. Joel still can’t look away from you as you, in turn, refuse to look at him. 

“Stop, Joel,” you whisper. But he can’t. 

“At the start of this, we usually discuss a second option for those of you who aren’t able to find what you’re looking for in this. Sometimes it’s not so simple,” Maria tells them. 

A miracle move on drug, is what she calls it. 

The group’s coalition is sponsored by a pharmaceutical company, one testing a cure for loneliness. Something they think of as pilled perfection, something to numb the pain of loss. Any emotional wound, now with the potential to be a thing of the past. The young omega handing out the pamphlets had promised an easy cure, it seems this is what he’d been referring to. And if the potential side effects included an inability to hold on to any sort of emotional attachment afterward, well, the encounter groups they’d targeted thus far were grateful for it in the end anyway. They were all alone after all. 

“It’ll help you let go of everything you can’t let go of,” Maria tells them. “Help make you forget. Help make you un-lonely. We’ll be holding a session Wednesday morning for anyone who’s interested in being part of the trial. Our sponsor company, Firefly, is very happy to welcome as many of you as possible.” 

Beside him, you whisper, “Only a coward would take that option. What a cheat.” 

Joel hesitates, perplexed and wounded by your words. 

“You’ll never have to grieve or miss something you can’t get back, ever again. I know that for many of you, this is the ultimate fantasy,” Maria says.

“I think it sounds like something to help let go. Like what I came here for.”

You exchange cards. Now it’s your turn, the wounded look. 

When Maria’s through, bidding the group goodnight and setting them all free to mingle, you’re up and out of your seat before he can get a word in. He watches you go as if he were some sort of abandoned lapdog, only for a second, before he’s once again, striding after you. 

You weave almost drunkenly through the crowd, first heading towards the exit, then to the beverage station, then correcting and veering towards the back hall where the restrooms and catechism classrooms are. 

Gaining on you, he takes you by the elbow, pushing you deep into the darkness of the long hallway. Going far enough the din of desperate socialization turns a quiet murmur. You’re really in the belly of the beast now. So quiet and dust infused it feels as if it’s been years since a soul stepped through here. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Your face glows with fevered sweat. 

“I’m sick,” you mumble on the tail end of a whine when he shakes your arm into responsive compliance. “Let me go. Stop,” you fight, trying to claw away from him.

“No you’re not.”

“Yes, I am. I threw up all night. And you have the personality of a snarling dog more than a man. Has anyone ever told you that?” Shoving at his chest now feebly.

Ignoring your caterwauling, he takes you in entirely. “You’re not sick,” he says again, sure now. 

There’s a timeless hunger gnawing at his gut. Joel suddenly feels more himself than he thinks he’s ever felt in his entire life. 

Dragging you high against his chest by the collar of his own coat, he brings the tip of his nose slowly to the valley of sweet fragrance at the side of your throat. Inhaling deeply at the flushed, swollen scent gland there. The sound of your toes scuffing against the floor excites him even more. 

“You’re not sick. You’re going into heat,” he says slowly; gathering the overwhelmed, shivering creature as gently as he can in his arms. 

Your fingers claw at his own throat in return, as if digging for his own answering scent. “No. But it’s not time. I had one not so long ago.” You sound on the verge of tears, and he makes a deep, soothing sound in his chest. “My blockers...I— I can’t be. It’s not time yet.”

“It’s a breakthrough heat.” His other hand comes around to the small of your back and ever so slowly, he presses your hips closer to his. “It’s mine. Because of me.”

“No.” You shove back with renewed strength suddenly, spinning around to scurry deeper down the dark hall and then careening on weak legs into an abandoned classroom. 

Heart beating madly at the prospect of the hunt, he takes a singular calming breath before he’s stalking after the sound of your crying. 

-

“You need to not run from me right now. It’ll make my rut come faster,” his deep voice comes from somewhere in the dark unknown. 

You scramble around the children’s desks, weaving your way clumsy with disorientation to the far end of the classroom. You don’t want to go into heat right now. You can’t. Not with him. You need to be safe and alone in the confines of your warm, comfortable bedroom, far away from the temptation of him.

His heavy, panting breath sounds closer and there’s a shriek in your throat like a struggling kitten. 

“You want me to lose my self control. That’s what this is, isn’t it?” There’s a loud crash as he shoves one of the little desks out of his way, followed by your answering half-scream. And then he’s here, coming up behind you but finding mercy enough to hold himself back at the last moment, panting as if he’d just run miles fighting against himself. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry. Come here, baby. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s okay.” He takes a step closer, and the slowing of his breath and soothe of his voice calms you in turn. Baby baby baby. “You’re only going into heat, that’s all, sweet girl. I’ve triggered it for you and I’m sorry. Let me come to you.”

You let out a high and harried sound, palm smoothing over your throat over and over again. “Joel,” you say once.

“I’m here. It’s okay.”

“It’s only that—”

“What is it?”

“I have to tell you something.”

“Tell me.”

“I’m embarrassed.” A helpless tear spills out over the edge of your eyelid. 

“You’ve nothing to be embarrassed about with me. Ever. We understand each other, you and I. Don’t we?”

And he’s right of course. You’d picked his face out of the crowd in instant recognition, after all. “I’ve had heats…but I’ve never—never had a, a heat with someone. With an alpha.” 

He’s utterly silent and you feel deranged enough you’re almost certain you can hear the pound of his heart inside his chest.

“You’ve never had a knot take your cunt?”

“No.” You swallow, cringing with mortification at his crass words. 

“Never.”

You hear a muttered fuck, and his breathing goes quick and shallow and then even again. He has better control over himself than you do at this moment. 

“Then how?”

You flush hotter, so embarrassed. “T—toys,” you stutter. “Medication to help me.”

When he steps closer, only calm accompanies him. All is suddenly quiet. You want him. Your disjointed mind, overwhelmed by too many confusing emotions had gone into overdrive for a moment, but now, with the scent of hot, aggravated alpha surrounding you, it’s obvious this was all you’d needed to calm down. In a rush of air out of your nose, it’s all okay. 

You can feel his hot breath against your forehead, the wash of heat on each exhale and the lingering scent of sweet musk at his inhale. You touch his cheek with shaking fingers and feel him turn ever so slightly into your palm, and then he’s bending slowly. 

First, it’s a soft, wet nudge of his mouth, your bodies held apart. A frightened thing. Then his strong nose bumping into the side of yours, the splendor of inexperience turning to knowing, a nuzzle. Coming in again hungry, with the slick of tongue now, and the deep inhale of shock at first taste. Your breaths rush through one another, and you feel yourself backing away in maybe fear, more likely overwhelm, but his mouth follows your retreat and then his palms are at your waist, tugging you into himself, pressing you tightly to his body with a ragged groan. 

“Your mouth…Your mouth is so beautiful,” he says.

Everything in your lower belly cramps in painful agony, and you scratch at his arms and neck without much strength, trying to climb higher and take more of him into your mouth. Oh, you want this so badly. You want it to be everything you’ve dreamed of so obsessively the past weeks. Nothing else in the world exists except for your two mouths pressed together.

His lips burn a wet path across your cheekbone, sliding to the side of your neck to suckle at your scent gland. “Fuck.” His scraped teeth along the patch of sensitive skin. “Have you had sex before?” The question is gentle, understanding, his tongue tasting your sensitive earlobe, head ducking suddenly to give a sharp bite at your breast. 

“Yes.” 

His erection is pressed firm at your belly, hot even through his jeans and your sweater. His large body radiates heat. At your back, his palm finds the edge of your top, sliding underneath to make first contact, blistering skin against blistering skin. 

“But not an alpha.” He says it smugly, the bastard. Palm sliding down to your rump, tucking you more tightly against his hard cock. You shake your head at the crook of his neck, fingertips twisting in the back of his hair. Your breath comes in wet little pants that sound too pathetic to bear. 

“It’s going to feel so good,” he promises, acknowledging what it is that will now happen between the two of you soon, rubbing slow circles low on your back with that wide, strong palm. “It’s different. It’s…” That palm slides lower, squeezees the curve of your backside. “It’s ordinary if it isn’t with someone…special. If there’s not the possibility of—” 

You tell him you understand what he’s trying to say. 

“I think it’ll be so good between us,” he finishes. 

At the waist of your skirt, his fingers press between your skin and the stretch of your tights, forcing his large hand into their confines. Your breath skips into his open mouth, panting into one another, he cups you between your legs and suddenly all you can focus on is the tight ache there, the nylon soaked obscenely between your thighs. His arm around your back squeezes you tighter to his chest and his fingertips are pushing past lace edge to feel the slick swell of wet cunt. 

“Oh, Joel. Not here,” you moan. “Someone will come in.” He’s circling your clit, so sensitive and so swollen it hurts. You tug him impossibly closer, and he presses you back into the cold stone wall. “We can’t in a church.” Your protestations sound weak even to your own ears as you spread your legs wider for him. 

“I don’t give a fuck.”

He takes your mouth again, sucking deeply, groaning even deeper when he presses inside of you to the first knuckle. “Tight, baby,” he breathes into your neck, his hips slowly grinding into your pelvis. 

He feeds you more, then presses a second finger, holding still for a second, then another. Panting like a rabbit caught in a trap with three of his too thick fingers stuffed in your overstretched cunt. The sound of popping seams moves up your spine. 

“Can feel your little cunt shaking around me. Jesus—” he groans. It’s all mine, whispered into your hair. 

Suddenly, there’s the open and close of a door nearby. And then the sound of someone’s voice calling your names. Joel huddles you further into the dark corner, confined by the protection of his body, his fingers still moving in and out of you, stretching you well enough to burn as he presses as deeply as he can and with the utmost gentleness, pets lightly at the painfully sensitive mouth of your cervix. Humming in satisfaction at the feel of you. 

“Right there?” He hums. 

You’re crying, clutching at him even more tightly. Your name sounds again, being searched for, like a warning. 

“If I fuck you, nobody else ever will.” His voice is so dark it’s menacing. It’s recklessness, verging on a lie. Maybe it’s hope. 

Pressing lightly again, petting, petting, he pulls his fingers back a little, the loud sucking sound of your cunt trying to hold onto him, and you’re coming for him, crying into his neck, sucking on his scent gland so that the taste of him floods your mouth. The sound of a door opening, and you hear him growl at someone to fuck off in a very scary voice, his fingers never ceasing their steady thrust inside of your clenching sex, and the frightened slam of a door. 

“It’s alright. You’re alright. That’s my good girl,” he pets and soothes at you, pressing a kiss to your temple, your eyelids, your mouth again and again.

Part 3;

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

Updates Blog

[stormblessed95]

Tbh I'm a jikooker, but I find it incredibly difficult to fit a healthy long-term relationship into the same timeline as all of jimin's solo work. It's not the pronouns or taking one lyric very literally, its the entire thing, plus comments from him and his producers. To me, you'd have to do some serious olympic level mental gymnastics to make that make sense. I don't doubt that jikook have a special bond, I've definitely seen things between them that definitely look like sexual attraction to me and things that surpass friendship boundaries, but I can't in good faith say that they're together in some official long-term way if I actually listen to jimin and his work.

I've seen some jikookers think they broke up for a while, but I have to question if those people have ever been through a breakup because the little bit of distance/separation/awkwardness we did see from them during chapter 2 is nothing compared to the type of tension that would be there if a relationship that intimate and intertwined had separated, especially considering the dark feelings jimin was feeling. He wouldn't have been cutely commenting on jungkook's lives and jungkook wouldn't have been asking to hang-out or getting excited to see jimin in his comments.

Idk, I'm sure someone could twist everything a certain way and only take certain things at face-value and then make everything else abstract, etc. to make the case that they are together, but I don't really see it. You look at face-off, alone, and just his general dark feelings during Face, then look at the creation of Muse and how him and his producers said he couldn't relate to the love-dovey beginning songs, which is how they ended up making Who (despite the fact that jikookers try to distance him from the song since he doesn't have writing credits even though he sat in the recording room telling them what he wanted and saying it felt like reading his diary). I think jimin could have very well gone through a pretty awful breakup along with the inner turmoil he was going through post-covid, but I don't think it was with jungkook if he did. I still enjoy jikook's bond either way at the end of the day, but yeah I don't really get how anyone can take an honest look at jimin's work and his words and think he was in a long-term healthy love-of-his-life relationship during that time or into chapter 2.

Not trying to change your opinion or anything, honestly I don't really see it discussed much in jikooker spaces (besides bad-faith stuff like tkkers stirring up shit over pronouns in lyrics which is just dumb) and when it is, some jikookers are pretty pick-and-choose about what they deem to be true to jimin's feelings and what isn't. Which I get being nuanced, but sometimes it does feel like a "well this fits my beliefs so clearly this is true to jimin and this doesn't so it means nothing because he didn't write it" or whatever. I honestly get annoyed with the bad-faith arguers because it prevents being able to have actual discussions about some of this stuff in our little jikooker corner of tumblr. Like "he said her, he's clearly straight! he danced with a girl, straight!" stfu.

All of this is just like okay fine whatever. Here is your platform for these opinions. You don't really want me or my thoughts, you want my platform and my validation. Here ya go. (Mostly a general you here for all the asks I get in a similar nature to this, sorry)

I'm really only posting this because I'm tired as fuck of people going just look at face off, alone, all his dark feelings, how could he be in a happy lovey dovey healthy long term relationship? Which I'm paraphrasing anon, I know, but this was the gist of your point in that section.

When I'm living breathing proof that it's possible.

Personal time: I have the best partner in the world. I love him with my whole being. I have been with him since I was a teenager. We have gone through all sorts of changes and self discovery together. I also STILL occasionally struggle with self harm and wanting to kill myself. In fact, the only reason I'm still alive and not actively TRYING to off myself is because I don't want to traumatize my children and husband. I have crippling depression. I related to some of those darker feelings from FACE immensely. So you are inadvertently invalidating my own relationship by saying this, which I do kinda take offense to. And anyone who struggles with their mental health, all their relationships too.

So that's all. I just really needed at least one person to realize what an unfair and unnuanced take that part is. Everything else, sure. Agree to disagree friend. I'm all for it. You think Jimin is single but still love Jikooks bond, that's literally all I care about and I can coexist with you happily in a Jikook/bts bubble. 💜

(sorry this maybe got dark and triggering. I promise I'm working on dealing with my shit)

[felassan]

Snippets. 🐺💜

John: "one of the funnier quirks of game dev is you will never remember missions by their real names but instead by the name you called them by for several years of development it will never be 'In Your Heart Shall Burn' for me, it'll always be Setback" [source] / Blair: "there was that awkward period where half of the DA:V ones had "gods" in the title, so discussions were always some variant of: "Did you mean 'Gods Are Back' or 'Gods Are Bad'? I've heard people mention 'Egads! Gods!' but I'm not sure if that's new or a rework."" [source] / Malcolm (in reply to John): "I have one like this in DA:Ve and I can't share it yet because spoilers but I promise you it's delightful" [source]

John: "the only one i can ever remember is 'Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts' and it's because it seems to be the only DAI mission that people constantly reference by name online" [source] / Mary: "It's proper name is "Ham Ball." I put that in the file names, even." [source]

John: "idk how widely it’s been advertised but a reminder we are doing another Veilguard Q&A on Discord this Friday noon Mountain time (so 11 Pacific)" [source] / Malcolm: "Make sure you don't tell them about that one thing that happens in that place, with the guy." [source]

Trick: "BioWare released a new screenshot of Taash! I love how it captures the amazing detail work the character artists did." [source]

Image description on the Taash screenshot in Trick's post of the cap:

"A screenshot of Taash looking off to the side. The lighting is warm like either late afternoon or an interior with a fireplace, and it catches in the gold on Taash's armor and horns. Taash looks pensive or vulnerable -- not the deadpan stare or badass determination we've seen in other shots."

pensive or vulnerable.. ohh Taash. 🥺 Trick!!

User on the screenshot: "Taash looks *completely the fuck over this shit* in a totally exhausted sort of way, here. which is, mind, amazing detail work on the character artists' party!!" / Trick: "You know, it's a spectrum." [source]

Trick on DA:I - "Miss May is amazing in many ways, and especially in finding the balance of sweetness to pain for the Solas scenes. ❤️" [source] ((thankyouuu Miss May!!))

User: "it must be basically impossible to resist putting at least one extra moon around your fantasy world" / John: "if dragon age didn’t already have two you’d better believe I would’ve added another one. sitting next to a dial titled ‘number of moons’ and every so often I add another one. anyways the thing about Satina is- (a large hook drags me offstage)" [source, two, three] ((omg.. THE SECOND MOON shfuehfuehdbdh)

User: "i've been thinking about bellara's pockets and i need to know what her thoughts on cargo pants would be. would she be a fan for the utility." / John: "she wouldn't wear them all the time - she's a firm believer in a distinction between 'work clothes' and 'at home clothes' - but she is always in search of more pockets to carry more things into the field. she'd own at least three pairs" [source]

User: "The next two months are going to feel like the Fade section in DAO 😭" / Dragon Age: "Good thing we have a Veil Jumper to help you out! 💜" [source]

User: "MY SON LOOKS SO CUTE" (re: the new pic of Manfred from today) / Dragon Age: "MY BOY MANFRED 💀💚" [source]

User: "Can we change the armor/gear on our companions?" / Dragon Age: "You can!" [source]

User: "thank you for the food 🙏🙏🙏" / Dragon Age: "Enjoy your meal!" [source]

[livestock-and-bibles]

Things I've Noticed During My Several Rewatches of The Doomstar Requiem

(Lock in, this is gonna be long)

Murderface is the only one out of the group to have a completely obscured face, possession foreshadowing perhaps? Also he lacks the golden streaks on the halo-esque circles behind them. Inch resting... (Not gonna talk too much abt when the scene goes red and the beam behind Murderface is dripping blood because I believe it's already been talked about before by others, and I don't want to include anything in this post that's already been discussed) Also I love how all of their weapons match their instruments

The way Toki doesn't even flinch when he gets alcohol poured on his wound is heartbreaking, likely either because the torture his parents put him through as a kid has given him a wicked pain tolerance or because he's so dissociated, similarly to how he behaves in Dethfam when his parents are around or Dethzazz when he's mentally in the punishment hole (I do believe this sort of catatonic state he's in is what's causing him to seem so much worse off than Abigail—though his untreated diabetes + Magnus targeting him more because of his relation to Dethklok probably also adds to it—he's likely not really eating or taking care of himself)

At first I thought that Magnus was feeding them dog food, but on closer inspection I actually believe it to be human remains. Yeesh. You can see it really looks like muscle fibers, and there's bones, as well as skin that still has hair on it. Magnus Hammersmith they could never make me like you

On the table is the Klokateer from Tracking/Ishnifus and The Challenge!!

I think it's interesting how much Nathan's fantasies look like Toki's! I just think it's neat! They're more similar than they seem :)

This is the most expressive we've ever seen Charles and it makes my heart hurt AUUGHH

The way Nathan licks his lips/teeth after the "How can I be a hero when my dick's as big as a shoe" line. DISGUSTING /affectionate

Does this fan look familiar? He should, because it's Dethklok's son, Fatty Ding Dong!! Good to see he's doing well lol, and his real name is Rick, we can also assume that at LEAST four years have passed since season 1, since in season 1 episode 10, he's said to be 14. Since he has a roommate now, he is likely to be around 18 years old

(Apologies for the low quality screencap I had to nab this from Youtube) I kind of wish that the animators didn't change this original animation for the end of The Fans Are Chatting. I just feel like Nathan pushing away the Klokateers is more symbolically relevant. Nathan is quite literally pushing away the safety and security his avoidance has given him, the hologram disappearing and the fans leaving is a metaphor for the fact that he can no longer keep himself deluded into thinking that everything is fine, he can't hide from the truth anymore

Almost all of the Rock A Roonie Fantasy Camp counsellors came to the Dethklok audition, there's even the depressed blues guy in the background. There's also Sammy Candynose from Snakes 'n Barrels, so I like to think that Pickles told him about the auditions

There's also the guitarist from Get Thee Hence

Toki's shadow!!! The wings!!!

The animals they take the form of match two of the guitars Brendon Small created with Gibson, The Thunderhorse and the Snow Falcon :D

It's super tiny but their smiles :'))!!! Also the way their parts play on different sides when you listen with headphones but then combine at this part makes me so crazy. Not only does Toki challenge Skwisgaar and inspire him to get better, but they're also having fun! Which I can imagine never really happened when he played with Magnus

Probably just an animation error but Skwisgaar is animated as his present day self here. Idk, just thought that was interesting

I think the order of the rest of the band joining in on the background vocals is really interesting, it goes: Skwisgaar, Pickles, Nathan, Murderface. Personally I choose to interpret it as a representation of how long it took each member to warm up to Toki as their rhythm guitarist, Skwisgaar was super fast since he was the one to choose him, Pickles was the one wanting a new guitarist in the first place, Nathan and Magnus seemed to be close, so it would definitely take more time for him to accept Toki as the whole Magnus situation would still feel a little raw, and Murderface is a professional hater so of course it took him the longest

I really love just how soft and content Murderface looks in Toki's fantasy. We all know he has a softer side and I think that either Toki perceives it, or possibly Murderface shows it towards him (Which I can believe because they're often together and they get along pretty well, Toki is probably the person Murderface gets along with the best actually)

I also want to mention that at this part of I Believe, Toki is no longer singing along with the other's background vocals, and is harmonizing with himself, which gets really sad when you realize that it's because this was just Toki remembering this to keep himself sane and he's actually kidnapped, hurt, and alone. Ouch :(

The drunk driver who crashed into the Jomfru brothers is the same guy who crashed into Nathan's second grade class in Dethgov. I guess there's only one drunk driver that exists in the Metalocalypse universe lol

I think we as a fandom need to appreciate Eric Jomfru more. He's such a real one. The way they make you care about him after he's already gone is so evil lol /affectionate

The way the Klokateers join in on this song makes me wonder if perhaps they view each other as brothers, or if there's just like a strong sense of brotherhood between them

The groupie on the left can actually be seen in Fatherklok at the beginning of the episode, as one of the women Skwisgaar has been with, so y'know what? She has valid reasons to be mad honestly

Murderface's pose up top always sends me, sir please calm down, keep it together king

Murderface holding his wrist :(

If you look closely, you can actually see that the Revengeancers are eating Ishnifus. Which is just,, utterly horrifying

In between the shots of the band and the assassin, there's so many inconsistencies in the placement of the characters. For the last two images, I just like to rationalize it as Pickles immediately attempting to run away, then noticing that the rest of the band is still there and being like "Oh shit we're squaring up? Ok I guess". I know it's just so Nathan can be in the center when they use the Dethlights but I just think it's funny

Also in the second to last picture, the way Murderface, typically the most cowardly of the band, isn't looking at the assassin, but instead, is looking worriedly at Toki, makes my heart hurt. I adore their relationship

Murderface is actually sleeping in Nathan's bed here. If you compare different shots of their bedrooms and beds, it's clear that this is Nathan's, you can tell from the striped pillowcase. I'm not gonna talk too much about this, mostly because I want to make a separate post talking about how Murderface is seen more than once sleeping in Nathan's bed when he's hurt/unwell. It's very sweet lol

ANYWAY! Thanks for reading these rambles, I love The Doomstar Requiem so much! I might make a post like this for Army of the Doomstar as well, and also just some analysis posts if I get the confidence lol. Big thanks to @ratskal for watching this a dozen times with me and pointing out things too. (I actually reached the max limit of pictures allowed in a post which is a little funny, I am so normal about this show /lying)

[gachagon]

Hypocrisy anon here and I agree completely with your response, especially the tags.

I really hope a p:eg writer writes a fic about a Danganronpa character being plopped into Project Eden's Garden cause I feel like the dichotomy between them and the cast would be so good.

Like I could see the cast seeing Makoto as a complete anomaly with how optimistic he is even compared to Diana. With Hajime I could see many of the characters shunning him with Damon doing so too. Nagito and Kokichi I feel like would be even more wildcards than they were in their own games.

If Eva had been with any other group she either wouldn't have murdered or I think she would've won that Killing Game. The THH and SDR group were like so friendly and trusting of one another that each trial was a gut punch because they knew someone had genuinely betrayed them or felt like they had been backed into a corner into becoming one of the Blackened. (Aside from Celestia who was just straight up trying to win it lol)

I definitely think she would've won the Killing Game for THH if she befriended Naegi and still did her whole "I'm gonna frame someone else" plot. Only because I think Naegi and the others would have had too much faith in her T_T

Hajime had to vote for multiple people he actually liked so I don't think she'd have won SDR's Killing Game, but alternatively she wouldn't have murdered if she had a support group and seeing as the SDR crew were like legit besties even after the Killing Game, I could see her not resorting to murder.

V3 however, idk I feel like she would've lost. She'd have had to tell a lie so convincing that it'd trick the REAL Ultimate Liar, Kokichi Ouma and I just don't see Eva doing that. But I do think she'd bond with other characters in V3 because she wouldn't be the only person with an "unusual" talent. (That, and her ostracizing starts because she's the first to point out the naivety of believing no one would murder. The other crews I feel would've had more people who would've agreed with her openly rather than following some leader. That way she wouldn't be alone in her opinion, which sort of makes her spiral from the jump.)

Like Kirigiri and Byakuya would've agreed with her in THH, I can see Fuyuhiko and Peko backing her up on the whole "we really CAN'T trust people like that..." point, Maki and Shuichi would've also agreed with the idea of it etc...but in Eden's Garden the only person she had was Damon, and Diana agreed but not outwardly and she did just stay quiet for the most part T_T (i love Diana but I feel like Eva had a bit of a point, it's like when you're in a group of friends and they're bullying someone and you point out how they're all being kind of mean, but nothing happens bc you don't do anything personally to distance yourself from that kind of behavior.)

That, and the other crews didn't have a "leader" until like the very end. Sure there was someone to help lead the discussions of the trials, but outside of trials they didn't have someone who dictated what they did or when they did it etc. Like nobody was looking to Naegi or Shuichi or Hajime as leaders to make decisions for everyone. When Wolfgang was like "Just bring any suspicious clues to me next time Desmond" I knew that shit wouldn't fly if it was THH or something (Byakuya would've called him out on it so fast lmao)

[nobodysuspectsthebutterfly]

Thoughts about the supposed direction Rhaena's storyline is going in Hotd and the apparent Nettles erasure? Disappointing but... I can sort of see where they could take it? Idk... looking at grrm's posts in hindsight kinda makes me even more disappointed if he is as well (he just can't get his adaptations right atp but idk)

Well. Pre-ep7, we're still pending any Rhaena-Sheepstealer bonding, but I'm basically 😑🫠 about the rumors. (I dislike borrowing trouble, I'm not even sure how many of the rumors are true -- actually I'm pretty sure many of these supposed "leaks" are straight up lies -- and yet. Still *disgruntled meh* and *"we're all fine-everyone's fine here" dread*.) Rhaena is one of my more beloved F&B characters (it's the Sansa parallels, I can't help myself), and Nettles has been a super fave since TPATQ and TWOIAF. (Particularly TWOIAF, since the Burned Men fire-witch reveal; heck, I think my little dollmaker is still one of the few fanarts of Nettles in the mountains.)

I mean, sure, I understand that Rhaena's book storyline during the Dance, where she's offpage from basically the start of the war until nearly the end of it, socializing in the Vale and waiting for her egg to hatch, would be difficult to adapt in an action-oriented visuals-oriented television show. (Like Rhaenyra this season sure isn't just catatonically crying from Luke's death until Jace's.) And I'm glad Rhaena's getting more to do, and I'm glad it's directly addressing her feeling slighted and ignored by her family since she doesn't have a dragon. However...

I do not want Rhaena merged into one character with Nettles! I do not want Rhaena to have Sheepstealer and not her hope-for-the-future (doomed hope, and yet) baby dragon Morning, that hatched for her. Also note how pink Morning, worn as a fashion accessory, so suited Rhaena's coquette personality vs her sporty, adventurous twin sister... I mean, I've said before, I understand adaptations can be different, this still wouldn't make HOTD even close to a "loose adaptation".* But I do not want this adaptation to lose Rhaena's personality that I loved.

Or for that matter, to lose Nettles's character, and her importance to the themes and worldbuilding of ASOIAF. (See also.) And her importance to the plot -- but god knows, they're doing all sorts of things with Daemon and Rhaenyra on this show, toxic romance or what have you, who knows if once Daemon reaches his emotional breakthrough or whatever at Harrenhal this season, if they want to backslide him into a cheating plot in S3 while Daemon is again stuck in a castle for months.** Nevertheless, I'd be deeply disappointed to lose scenes like "as well as her dragon, the girl had taken to riding Daemon", or the last morning in Maidenpool scene... and um, you can't really fit Rhaena in there, or if you did, it would certainly put the lie to the ship denialists' "he just treated her like a father, platonically bathing naked together!" (Also the pretty blatant fake S3 leaks including one where Rhaenyra decides Rhaena has betrayed her... are pretty blatantly fake, sorry.)

And then there would be the frankly racist erasure of the one book black character. "Oh but the show made the Velaryons black, so it's not erasing, it's adding more!" No, sorry. (1) I was and am all for adding more racial diversity to the show and especially to Valyrians, but face it, when you take the book's secondary character Velaryons, two who get killed off early and are portrayed as lesser to the "true" Daemon/Rhaenyra marriage, and make them black, you've already done a lot of hinky damage there. (2) What, it's that hard to write three distinct black girls with very different personalities and one from an incredibly different background? I don't see Addam and Alyn getting merged. I don't see Aemond and Daeron getting merged. I don't see Hugh and Ulf getting merged. But I'm not really one to speak here, for this particular discussion I'd point you to @ride-thedragon and @venusintheblindspots-blog and @chrkrose, among others, they have many many posts on this subject in far greater detail and better argued than mine.

OK, so. I still have hope that Nettles -- even if not cast for this season (sorry y'all, that extra is an extra) -- may appear next season, and all this worry will turn out to be a tempest in a teapot. Per last report from the HOTD panel at SDCC, the rumor of Rhaena and Sheepstealer definitely doesn't happen in ep 7, though, yes, there's one episode after. And if it does happen... I'll be strongly disappointed. Deeply, deeply disappointed, and probably far more suspicious of future adaptational changes. But, for me at least, it's not a dealbreaker like GOT S5 was.*** I won't be happy at all about the storyline, but I would like to think the show will remain high quality re themes and character and all. Time will tell, though. Time will definitely tell.

As for GRRM, when his complaints seem to be "wild dragons shouldn't be in the Vale" and "the heraldry with four legs is wrong", well, I struggle to see that he's that disappointed in the adaptational changes. Believe me, I am well used to reading between the lines re GRRM and adaptations, something like the fact that he's not visiting the HOTD writers' room when he's in the UK is nothing. Catch me if at Worldcon or his Oxford lecture in August, GRRM again says that he could write a whole novel about Nettles, or if actually says something about non-Valyrian dragonriders, ok?

*I was just reading up on The Beast (2023) vs Henry James's “The Beast in the Jungle”. lol HOTD doesn't compare. Don't even think it, man.

**You know, this reminds me of how the Dance in F&B is not paced very well for individual characters, they keep going offscreen for months at a time. From shortly after Rhaenyra's crowning to the Fall of KL, Daemon just sits at Harrenhal and occasionally ventures out into the riverlands. From shortly after the Fall of KL until the Battle Above the Gods Eye, Daemon just... sits at Maidenpool and occasionally ventures out into the riverlands (with Nettles). Yeah, obviously a show would need to write more for him to do, he's a main character.

***Thank god HOTD isn't the sort of exploitative shitshow that GOT was. All y'all thinking it was a better adaptation because of your nostalgia goggles (and/or shitty memory) need to actually reread the books (especially AFFC/ADWD) and then submit yourself to the real-world misogynist and homophobic nonsense of S5-6 again, ugh.

[quibbs126]

You know, regardless of however I feel about the character himself (I actually don’t remember my opinions on TFP Megs much since I haven’t watched the show in a while, I just know he’s internally my most clowned on for doing space crack and being the biggest fumbler), he does have a good design, at least objectively

He’s huge, he’s bulky, he’s very sharp. He 1000% screams gladiator, which is exactly what he was in this show’s backstory (or at least that’s the part the show focuses on). I feel like even his face fits in with that too with all the lines, they kind of look like battle scars and give him a more experienced and battle hardened air. Like yeah, this man was champion of the Pits of Kaon and warlord leader of the Decepticons, and I can tell from design alone how people fear him

This is also a show that never really tries to give Megatron any redeeming traits or make us sympathize with him (I think this was also from before IDW Megs became an Autobot, if that’s worth any point in this discussion), so them going all in on the intimidation and evil aspects of his character in his design makes complete sense

And also, I think his particular color palette works towards his character design as well

They swap out his red accents for purple in this show, which I think gives him more cohesion, particularly with the Decepticon symbol being the same color. It also ties into the emphasis on Dark Energon in this series, which is made purple here, and how Megatron is like the main guy who uses it. And it makes his red eyes stand out more and the only red, though his purple eyes also stand out from the rest of his design due to their brightness

Then there's the topic of his metal, or I suppose more accurately, the texture of it. Yes it's metal, and yes there's some shine to it, but to me it's sort of like...an ugly sheen. Not as in I don't like looking at it, it's visually unappealing, but as in like, it isn't pretty and smooth, it's rough looking, and other words I don't know how to describe metal. I want to say corroded but that's not the right usage of the word for metal, and I don't know how accurate dull is either. And while this may be the case for other characters with metal, it's most prominent on him because of how much of his body is that metal

But like, the point is that it's not the prettiest metal. I think that can tie in with his initial lower class and less fortunate origins, forced to mine and fight in gladiator pits to be seen. And it ties again into being a warrior, how he's not the most concerned with how he looks, unlike someone like Knock Out, staying plain but fit for battle. You could also maybe see it as like armor in that way, being mostly clad in metal

I can't remember if I had any other talking points, so I'll leave it there. Point is, while subjectively, he isn't my favorite Megatron design (granted idk who is), objectively I think the character designers did a very good job with him. Even if I'm not the most articulate in describing how

[chjroptera]

this is going to be a long one, but i feel like you'll understand my point of view: i sent you an ask like 2 or so months ago wanting to hear your opinions about how you do/don't separate the content creators from the characters on the dsmp. at the time i held a very opposing belief to you, now not so much. your original response made me think a lot about it. it was well worded. especially that these characters had foundations set with who the content creators actually are (wilbur and tommy being brothers at the time, dream being dream. the list goes on). at the time i didn't want to think about it at all, because not doing so allowed for complete separation between the horrible people behind characters that i love/loved (still love, but in a different and sadder way now) to continue. now, with more and more information coming out, with things getting less and less obscured and content creators being more blunt about their awful time spent with the dsmp, i find it nearly impossible to enjoy these characters at all. save tommy's and tubbo's, and quackity's when i don't think about his shit ending lmao. it's sort of like a fog has lifted from me if that makes sense. and the dsmp feels like this media that can't be understood like anything else can. it's so specific to what it is and the discussion surrounding it and how lines blur between character and creator. you have people that hold this steadfast blind belief (which i understand a lot of it is so they can continue loving something that they've loved for a while in a way that's unchanged, even though it's changed so much, i've been there) and then there are people like you, who seem to still have love and appreciation for the story but understand that nuanced middle ground. idk, i was wondering if you could talk at all about how you still enjoy these characters. or if you have any further thoughts about how the lines blur and the foundation that was set by the creators that their characters were laid on top of. sorry again that this is so long. been thinking about it a lot

thanks for sending this, i know its kinda jarring to realize dsmp is more like a blurry memory than a concrete story, and i totally get why you can't find that middle ground/enjoy it anymore. i also appreciate you wanting to hear more from me, i really enjoy talking about this stuff.

at least for me, i always saw dsmp as a story first. i dont know if you followed me on twitter but dude i was making threads on threads of theories, breakdowns, character analysis, everything. i enjoyed the ccs content too but from the first lore stream i watched (the dawn of the 16th) i always saw it as a story with intentional main and side characters, foils, character arcs whatever. as it went on, it became more scripted, which worked well for me because in my eyes more development made them less connected to their actual cc. tftsmp also made the divide wider because now characters had reincarnations, soulmates, and descendants/ancestors. tftsmp added so much original shit to the dsmp that it really did feel like a concrete story.

its kinda unavoidable that the ccs would use their own personalities and traits as bases for characters, a lot of them weren't writers or had personas. like for the longest time it was assumed that c!drm and c!spnp were childhood friends solely because the two are in real life. in reality it wasn't confirmed till the prison break stream which brings me to another point: a lot of dsmps canon depends on if you were even there or not. i explain in here and my best example would be cc!spnp saying his favorite headcanon was c!skpy and c!bad being his dads, which bad had already confirmed and then had retconned because of spnp saying it was a headcanon. its really fcuking dumb man.

i still love the story. im still super passionate about it if you didnt see how pissed i was about quackitys dumb merch commercial. i love the characters and i still do write analysis for them, watch the streams, make fan art but it IS a lot harder now. posting those c!wils took a couple minutes of back and forth with myself but i know that the only people here are dsmpers aka the only ones who Get It. karlnapity is literally my favorite ship ever and i cant bring myself to draw them most of the time because its feels so weird. i don't want to make them ocs (tbh i already have and shifted shit around lol) because they're already characters with development and backstories. i love them as they are, and theyre eternally suck in stasis.

i just kinda accepted that i really love this web series and surround myself with people who are willing to talk about it critically. acknowledging that the characters are an extension of the character who played them soured my experience a lot, it took me 2 years to draw c!drm again because i just dislike the cc that much. as someone who was literally there since 2020, dsmp is ours now. the ccs dont care about the story and neither does anyone concerned with the drama right now. you look up "dsmp explained" on youtube and youre getting thousands of videos regurgitating the same timelines and news updates on the cc drama, nothing about the narrative or the complexities of the media itself.

[celaenaeiln]

it’s a me a 12 am anon . my girlfriend and i had a discussion abt how odd it is that the fandom views and stereotypes the batfam like

dick is romanian and has more fem related traits and somehow it translates into him being a dumb womanizer or just an annoying mother hen?

jason grew up in the streets, i think its popular to hc him as hispanic? idk but jts odd how ppl do that and also think hes an angry heartless brute

cass gets that “badass asian dragon lady” archetype (tbh im not sure what it is but my gf is passionate abt it so like im confident she’s right)

tim?? somehow ive seen wasian hcs for him but the boy is autistic right? somehow a stereotype i see for him is like “weird and socially awkward but super smart” which . i dont think thats right .

steph is adhd right? i think? also falls into the dumb “waffles r my only personality trait” stereotype and uts just a tiny bit odd dyou see it?

damian (and by extension talia) gets done dirty a lot i think i dont .yeah

nyways sorry its been a while <3 would llve to hear ur thoughts n opinions

hey again!!

Batfam fanon is...not great. And it's things like this that remind me why I kinda avoided this fandom until I couldn't.

Dick

Dick is Romani and is canonically more feminized but the dumb womanizer thing is really getting on my nerves. First of all, he's one of the smartest characters, ever. The comforting thing about Dick is that he never loses.

The reason I love reading Dick Grayson runs is because I can read about his thought process, the way he analyzes, how he single-handedly solves crime like it's nothing.

Batman (1940) Issue #703

Secondly he's not a womanizer. He literally has a mental break down at the thought of dating or even kissing someone he isn't in love with. He's never, ever, ever going to sleep with someone he doesn't have atleast some level of romantic attraction to because he feels it's inherently wrong and canonically frowns upon that behavior when others do it.

The mother hen thing - I gotta admit is kinda accurate. He really loves his family and friends and takes care of them really well. He always makes time to sit and listen to all of them with all their problems and helps them solve it so that's fine.

Jason

The hispanic thing - what the actual heck. Literally why? Jason's "hispanic" fanon background along with Tim's "asian" background comes from a wider problem where society has become disillusioned by the same ethnicity for all characters and wants for diversity and representation in the media. I actually do believe in greater representation but not here. When people make Jason hispanic due to his street backstory, they're attempting to diversify canonically white characters but accidentally reinforcing and perpetrating damaging stereotypes about particular ethnicities. Because his background has drugs, poverty, and crime - you want Jason to be Latino? Can you possibly make things worse? And Jason being an angry heartless brute. Not even adding to the stereotype, Jason was not like that. Jason originally started off as troubled but excited kid. He was happy about fighting criminals and having a home and getting food. As he grew older, the more criminals he fought, he came to a realization that people weren't going to change which is when he started getting more violent and angry with them. He didn't do it because he was some sort of psychopath, it's because he cared a lot about the effects these criminals were having on innocent people. Because he can relate. His anger has nothing to do with his supposed "hispanic" background which is still - ?!?!? Why is this even a thing.

Cass

I don't really have anything to say about Cass being that archetype because tbh I kinda think of her like that too. She's exceptionally good at fighting, she's chinese, and she's the strong and silent type. I'd love to hear more about what your gf thinks about it though.

Tim

Again about Tim being Asian. No where near as damaging as Jason being classified Hispanic but also why? He's asian because he's smart? Because he's good at computers? C'mon the stereotype is boring. Isn't it exciting when you watch a movie or show and the Indian guy isn't an IT specialist? Or when the Chinese girl has neon highlights and loves partying? Or when the Japanese girl is rocking combat boots? The best way to appreciate diversity is actually letting ethnic characters have diverse personalities and talents. On a side note, there is not nearly enough celebration of already canonically diverse characters like Roy's navajo heritage or Jessica Cruz's latina one. Isn't it ironic how we're making racialized characters based on stereotypes because we believe there should be more diversity but ignoring canonically ethnic ones. Literally noone talks about Cass connecting to her Chinese side or the fact that she has dyslexia but we're readily jumping on the Asian Tim Drake train.

Autistic Tim Drake I can see where they're coming from because Tim sometimes has a hard time connecting to people. Like he sometimes misses social cues. And to be fair this theory actually has more credibility than some other ones because I don't know if I'd pass that off as awkwardness. But it also may be due to lack of human interaction. Tim's parents left him alone for long periods of time which he gleefully used to track robin and batman at night. I don't have a problem with this one because Tim may actually be inadvertently written as autistic at times so I guess it wouldn't be that far off canon.

Steph

People with ADHD are typically impulsive, don't focus on one thing for too long, and have a lot of energy which is very much like Steph.

Batgirl (2009) Issue #10

But mostly she just has a sense of humor. Which - like the case with Dick - because of course people can't be multifaceted, fandom generally takes for stupidity.

She's not dumb, she's just fun. I guess the waffle thing is because of human beings' pathological need to classify everything into categories and fanon likes to run with dumb blonde for Stephanie which really ticks me off. People can not be a gloomy avenger and still be smart. She solves her crimes and has a laugh while doing it and still pulling off the -

Batgirl (2009) Issue #12

Damian

Where do I start. What is even happening to him? Not in fandom necessarily but canon. What is DC doing???

[balrogballs]

I’m curious… how do the publishing sector(?) / your agents take to the concept of fanfiction? Do they consider it novels too? Is there a prejudice (or are your agents avid lindir smut readers too)?

Ooh I’ve answered this before but AGES ago and I think I deleted it because I shared too many specifics, so will answer in full haha.

From what I know from peers in genre fiction — especially romance/fantasy/YA/crime, it’s not exactly frowned upon in a rigid sense, many fanfic authors are open about being published authors and vice versa. Usually, most agents and publishers will have you ‘file off the serial numbers’ so completely remove your fic if any of it has influenced your writing. I don’t write in any of those areas however, so I could be wrong and someone else may be better placed to tell you more on that.

Litfic can be up its own ass — in certain niches an online presence is a good thing to curate, fanfic or no, but from what I see around me and in my circles, it can be somewhat looked down on and I’ve had several discussions with peers on it. Eg. literally last week one of my former professors went on a whole ass rant about how fanfic is ruining the literary landscape and I had to remind myself that biting people is illegal. It was quite funny because the guy raved about my book which is written in a very similar style to my fanfics so… 🤪

Litfic in general tends to be a bit snobby regarding fanfiction, but with the advent of the ‘MFA starkids’ as of late, this has been changing as a few of these types have begun curating a different, ‘younger’ brand — personally I dislike said brand but annoying progress is better than none I guess.

With me unfortunately, the average writer in my specific ‘area’ of litfic is around 45 years old, and it’s an issue-driven area so a lot of the writers and readers are academics/‘public intellectuals’ (ugh).

I have a doctorate and went to all the ‘right’ unis, but I was also in my mid-twenties when I debuted. So I have to very much try twice as hard to ‘live up’ to that sort of thing, and I find it a bit miserable so let the publishers handle any socials etc. Which is also why I really enjoy being on here.

Writer as a brand is a thing in many genres, especially if you write with a ‘big 5’ publisher — unfortunately, mid-twenties fanfic author is not a brand I am encouraged to curate. I REALLY lucked out with my agent and editor as both work with Booker-listers, but the flip side is that they can be a bit dismissive of writing they deem as ‘not serious’.

I do understand, because of the image ‘world literature’ has + my age + not-yet-established status + that fic was literally lindir getting drilled like a borehole… can feel a bit stifling, but work is work!

And yeah once you get to a certain level it stops being relevant, like I feel like if Salman Rushdie came out as a Gigolas shipper or idk Jungkook groupie, nobody would bat an eye. However — as you might be able to tell from how I have both the free time and the shamelessness to curate “Balrogballs” and write about breakfast blowjobs — am no Salman Rushdie.

(I’ve joked before that if I win any of the top 5 prizes I would reveal myself as Balls in my acceptance speech so get praying).

Re difficulty — I don’t have too hard of a time because I use my legal given name and surname in fannish spaces, hence me having always been chill about using my name here, and exclusively use my middle names in public/writing spaces, and there’s absolutely no connection between them online — we had a full check done on this by the publishers.

So people won’t know Zara is [middle names] unless they know me personally, and I don’t really care if people I know IRL know this is my blog because I act exactly like this IRL, just not professionally. A couple of people in fannish spaces did make the connection but the fault was mostly mine as I had been quite careless re: posting face at that point.

TLDR: no it’s not encouraged in my situation, but every genre and author and publisher is different — some genre-fiction agents clearly DO like a Cassandra Clare situation and an online fan community presence can help. I’m thinking about how I’ve seen quite a few fantasy writers openly say they’re Reylo shippers/wrote Reylo fanfic.

Apologies for essay, I’m bored on a train, but hope this answers the questions 😇