#like start writing fucking blindly idk

[zeroducks-2]

Why's it so easy to get our OTP laid by anyone EXCEPT each other, Zero, I'm suffering.

I DON'T KNOW.

WHY ARE WE THEY LIKE THIS.

[myownwholewildworld]

uniformed!joel one shot - the police officer

series masterlist | main masterlist | part ii

pairing: police officer!joel x f!reader.

summary: you're driving back home and, unbeknownst to you, you've committed quite a few traffic offences, noticed by the one and only police officer, joel miller. he's not gonna let you get your way that easily.

a/n: umm hello?? idk what happened, but here we are. i threw this idea to the wind, people seemed to like it, so i started typing and this is what came out. read the warnings and do not judge me please lol this is inspired by this and this ask, so kudos to them! so basically i have decided to start a series of one shots where joel miller wears different uniforms. YEAH, i know, i'm not okay but that's okay. if you guys have any suggestions for this series, my askbox is open! also, i've decided that if i/you guys want, i can write the same uniformed!joel more than once (e.g. two fics of police officer!joel). if someone is interested in being in the taglist for this series, please do let me know. anyways, i do appreciate all comments, reblogs, likes and asks. as always thank you for reading! <3

warnings: 18+, mdni. no outbreak AU. dark theme. filthy smut. dub-con. age gap, no age gap, you choose (joel is mid-late 40s, reader is at least of legal drinking age). power imbalance (joel is a cop). alcohol consumption (reader is sober by the time it happens). fingering. squirting. oral (m and f receiving). mouth fucking. slut shaming. cheating. rough, public sex. unprotected piv. creampie. joel is a bully and a dick, basically, so be warned. alternating pov. no description of reader apart from having hair that can be pulled. not proofread so i'm sorry.

w/c: ~4.6k.

tagging some people who seemed to be v interested (please let me know if you want to be removed, no pressure!):

@fartcloudfartcloud @liciafonseca @fan-fiction-floozy @sweetlummie

“Shit”, you mumbled as the car keys slipped off your fingers.

You crouched down and blindly dabbed the asphalt, your phone falling off your hand too. You grunted in frustration ― maybe you did drink a bit more than what you had intended. Not to the point where you thought it would be dangerous, otherwise you wouldn’t be driving home. You were already clumsy when sober, so this was no sign of anything, really.

The keys had tumbled under your car, so you got on all fours and bent over to reach. After a few trials, you finally got hold of them. Steadying yourself on the handle of the driver’s side of your car, you got up. Your tiny, fitted skirt had scrunched up at your waist, so you pulled from the hem to bring it back down. Looking around, you hoped you hadn’t flashed anyone.

You had dressed up for the occasion. As you grew older, your group of friends slowly drifted apart, so agreeing on a date and time to meet up had been a fucking miracle. You had been out since midday and sipped on many margaritas to quench your thirst. But knowing you would need to drive back home, you had stopped drinking a couple of hours ago. If you could, you would have gotten hammered. Living in the outskirts of Austin sucked.

You managed to finally open your vehicle and sat down. You hunched down, avoiding the steering wheel, to undo your heels. A satisfied sigh escaped your lips when you took them off ― your feet were hurting so bad, you questioned all of your life choices. A minute later the motor roared awake, and you were on your merry way without a hitch.

That was until you drove out of the city center onto not very well-lit roads. You were driving through an industrial estate when sirens went off behind you. Clicking your tongue, you looked through the rearview mirror, thinking it may be an ambulance asking you to give way.

Ah, no, you were very mistaken. It was a freaking police car, and it seemed like it was asking you to pull over. Great, just fucking great, you thought.

The headlights blinded you, so you couldn’t see the man approaching your car. Then you heard a tap, tap, tap on your window, the officer dazing you with the torchlight. You inhaled deeply, putting on your best smile, and rolled down the window.

“Good evening, officer. What can I do for ya?”, you battered your eyelashes at him, still dazzled by the torchlight.

Maybe if you played all sweet and innocent, he would take pity on you and let you go.

However, you were met with a deep, husky voice.

“License and proof of insurance”, he barked, no good evening miss, no please, nothing. So rude.

When he put down the torch, you caught a glimpse of the guy’s face. Bearded jaw with a prominent moustache, brown curly hair with slivers of silver, an attractive hooked nose, and some devilish hazel eyes. He was in his mid or late forties and was so fucking handsome you almost drooled at the sight.

You bit your bottom lip, a lopsided smile curling at the corners.

“Yes, of course, officer”, your voice was sweet and smooth as you bowed over the passenger’s seat, your boobs casually resting on the steering wheel.

You opened the glove box and handed him the papers, faking the most innocent, girly look you could muster.

“Is there something wrong, officer?”, you asked, leaning on the door frame, gifting him with the tentative sight of your deep cleavage.

His eyes wandered off the papers he was holding and lingered where you intended. You read the tag on his shirt: Officer Miller. Well, Officer Miller looked damn good in that tight uniform. The black shirt clung to his flexed biceps, the buttons slightly giving way to the bulge of his chest, the belt hugging his waist and… good fucking lord, those thighs, the size of a rugby player’s.

Your mouth watered.

You would lie to yourself if you said you were not affected by his presence. In fact, your damp cunt might as well fucking disagree with you. You pressed your knees together, unconsciously looking for some relief to the sudden wet heat gathering in between your legs.

His eyes drifted up lazily, locking on to yours. You swore a muscle on his jaw twitched.

“You were speeding, doing 40 on a 30-mph road. And your headlights are off”, he replied, his tone raspy.

Fuuuuuuuck, that’s why I couldn’t see shit. Were you that drunk? You didn’t feel like it.

Your face expression didn’t flinch, playing dumb might just do the trick. So you giggled, smacking your forehead with the palm of your hand.

“Ah, silly me. But it was well lit up until now, sir, so no harm done, right?”, your honeyed voice pleaded. “I swear this was a 40-mph road a couple of months ago?”

“It was but got changed. Did you not see the road sign?”, he seemed to be very annoyed.

You had no time to answer, because Officer Miller pointed to your lap. For a second you panicked ― surely your arousal had not drenched your clothes, right? You were aware of how wet your pussy was, but not to that extreme. Right? You looked down ― your phone was resting on your lap, but nothing else. A wave of relief overcame you and then you glanced up at him, confused.

“You were talking on the phone while driving, I presume.”

You gasped and promptly shook no with your head.

“No, no, officer. You see, I left it there when I got in the car, I forgot it was on my lap. I promise I wasn’t texting or anything like that.” Your explanation was genuine, but he cocked a brow. “I wouldn’t lie to you, sir.”

“Why? Because you’re a good girl?”. That question caught you off guard and turned you on at the same time, sending shivers down your spine. Your clit twitched. You gaped and nodded unwittingly. “I see. Step out of the car.”

Your heart was racing, attempting to jump out of your chest. Maybe you had been too suggestive. But he was the embodiment of the law, surely the officer had had his good share of temptation and would not yield so easily.

You got out of your sedan, slightly dishevelled, and tugged at your skirt so it would stop riding up your thighs. Officer Miller had taken one step back, his eyes measuring you from top to bottom, loitering on your breasts. His tongue quickly darted out to wet his bottom lip ― you were mesmerised by the simple gesture and pondered how it would feel if you choked on his tongue.

That thought made your cunt gush some more. You pursed your lips ― eyes on him, trying to convey normalcy.

“You’ve been drinking and have also been driving barefoot. That’s a total of, what, five offences?”. Miller clicked his tongue in disapproval. “It’s like you’re begging to spend the night in a cell.” His eyes flickered with malice ― and something else. Lust?

You really did not want to sleep in a cell tonight. You just wanted to get home, that was all. Also, most of your “offences” were bullshit. You were certain he couldn’t charge you with half of it, but his wickedness made you wary.

“I’m not drunk,” you said with a languid smile, touching his forearm, his arms crossed at his chest. “I stopped drinking two hours ago, officer.”

He raised an eyebrow ― Officer Miller didn’t believe a word you said.

“I can smell it.” You didn’t know if it was intentional or not, but his eyes drifted down to your pussy.

“I-It?”, you repeated, lips parted.

He didn’t say anything, just stared at you for a long minute. Your bravery had flaked a bit, although your cunt was begging for him to do something about it.

Joel was having a hard time curbing his horniness. You were so inviting, so insinuating, it was like you were asking to be fucked there and then. Oh, yes, you were, he knew you were. Showing off your boobs, wetting your lips, rubbing your knees together, playing with the edge of your tiny skirt. He had noticed every single one of your seductive attempts.

His cock was hard, so much so that it was stretching against the zipper of his work trousers. He kept his arms crossed, but what he really wanted to do was to readjust his erection so it wouldn’t be so damn uncomfortable.

“Turn around, hands on the car”, he ordered with a steely voice.

You first looked muddled, but finally obliged, giving him your back ― your palms resting on the roof of your car, your knees pressed together. He was sure your cunt was pulsing, and you were just trying to calm yourself down.

The thought made him mad with lechery. His dick was throbbing already.

“I’m going to pat you down, and then I’m gonna cuff you. Understood?”, he warned you, getting close to you.

You suddenly looked over your shoulder, your smile unwavering. You tilted your pelvis back, your ass against his bulge. You glanced down and then back up at him decisively.

“I’m sure we can work something out, officer?”, you whispered, your butt pressing on his swollen lump.

No, Joel was not imagining things. You were definitely asking to be fucked senseless in exchange for just a warning. He was still contemplating whether to entertain the idea or not. You were tempting, he would give you that. Your body was built to satisfy a man’s pleasure ― he could see that even when you were clothed. Barely clothed. Your top was too small, your boobs almost spilling over the neckline; your skirt was too short, your ass cheeks almost visible ― and he was sure you had some slutty heels on before you jumped into the car.

His cock jerked at the thought of rearranging your guts. Because that was what Joel would do to you if he had the chance. He cupped his groin for a second now that you were not looking, pressing it slightly to relieve some of the tension.

It didn’t help. If anything, it made it worse. He suppressed a frustrated groan.

Joel slotted his right knee in between your legs and forced you to separate them, his heavy boot grounding him. “I’ll think about it. In the meantime, you’re under arrest for at least reckless driving. Now stay still.” He was fully aware of how the top of his thigh brushed your crotch, but made a titanic effort to ignore it, for his own sanity.

Your panties were so fucking drenched, you feared your discharge might start dripping down your inner thighs. In fact, you let your head down to check discreetly and sighed with relief ― nothing to worry about, he wouldn’t notice how fucking horny you were.

Then he forcefully parted your legs, and you felt the fabric of his trousers sliding against your wet panties. The subtle touch made you jerked your hips up and then back down in surprise, your clothed cunt flushed against his thigh ― you had to swallow the sluttiest moan of your entire life, it felt damn good.

“I’m― I’m sorry”, you mumbled, lifting your body up to break the contact.

You didn’t need to look down to know that there would be a wet patch on his black trousers.

“You should be, making a mess of my uniform like that”, he grunted, exasperated.

Pressing your lips, you inspected every inch of the roof of your car while he patted you down. His big, calloused hands lingered on your underboob longer than necessary, almost cupping them. Both hands travelled down to your waist, his fingertips slightly under the waistband of your skirt.

Your heart was pounding, suddenly unsure of the whole thing. What were you really doing? Were you so desperate that you would let him use you in exchange for letting you go? Were you getting more than what you had bargained for?

It was like the excitement had burnt the last drop of alcohol in your blood and now you were fully aware of what you had unleashed.

But you had no more time to question your attitude, because Officer Miller completely slipped one of his hands under your underwear and buried all of his fingers in your soaked folds, except for his thumb which quickly found your clit. You shut your eyes and moaned audibly, your knees giving way.

His free hand wrapped around your waist to help you stand up, while his fingers traversed your whole slit, from your perineum to your clit, buttering your cunt with your own fluids.

“You are so fucking wet already, you should be ashamed of yourself”, he whispered in your ear while he pushed your ass back into his bulge.

Your treacherous body had awakened at his touch, your clit felt like it was on fire and your cunt was pulsating so hard it was uncomfortable. You rubbed his dick with your buttocks, unconsciously looking for some more friction. Miller groaned behind you, jerking you closer, his cock hard pressed against your ass.

Two of his fingers dipped further down and found your leaking hole, his thumb still rubbing your clit languidly. You whimpered and stirred your hips when one fingertip circled your entrance tentatively. Your back arched, pushing your butt further into his erection.

“Aren’t you a slut?”, he hissed as both fingers slid inside you, your brain not registering his words.

Your moist pussy clenched around his fingers, squeezing them hard. Every time your heart beat, so did your cunt. Officer Miller started fingering you, first slowly, and then picking up a relentless pace. Unable to control yourself, you mewled like a kitten in heat, your forehead now resting against the cold metal of your car and a thread of spit hanging from your mouth. Your needy cunt was so stimulated, so hot, so slippery, you couldn’t stop yourself from coming, even if you wanted to.

So you let go. You orgasmed so hard, you squirted with his fingers still dug in your creamy pussy. But you coming didn’t stop Officer Miller from driving his digits inside of you over and over again, forcing another climax on you a minute later. Your inner walls palpitated so violently, you felt the emptiness of your womb. Then you noticed it: the trickle of your own cum streaming down your inner thighs.

Officer Miller forced his fingers out of you, a pop sound making it obvious that your pussy was drown in your own fluids. The cop tapped your pussy a few times, almost gently, as the last wave washed off your nerve endings. You had never come so hard in your life before. Not even your boyfriend of five years had been able to turn you on this bad.

When your limbs regained some strength, Miller let go of your waist and stepped back. You slowly turned around to face him, but as your eyes drifted down his uniform, you realised that there was a new wet patch on his trousers, this time on his bulge. You had leaked so much, you had drenched his own pants.

You tried to find the words to explain to him that this was not what you had intended. Or was it?

“You’re still under arrest”, his voice was resolute, as if nothing of what just happened had affected him.

Before your neurons could make contact with each other, he handcuffed you, your laced hands resting in front of you, conveniently covering your spent pussy.

“But―”.

“No but’s, blackmailing a cop is an offence too. So that makes it six now, right?”, he cut you off.

You huffed, not believing what he was saying. You had not blackmailed him, not even close, he was just making it up now. Before you could argue, Officer Miller removed the keys from the ignition, shut the driver’s door and locked your car. He then grabbed you by your elbow, forcing you to walk in front of him towards his cruiser.

“Oh, c’mon, you’re now just bullying me”, you complained, your sweet façade quickly toppling.

Miller didn’t reply to your taunting. He simply opened the back door of his Crown Vic and threw you in. You almost tripped but manage to stop the falling. You sat down on the seat, your legs still out of the car, bare soles against the asphalt.

You didn’t know what possessed you, but your cuffed hands darted up and played with the buckle of his belt. Maybe if you gave him some head, he would relax and let you go. You were already in too deep anyway, your whipped pussy living proof of your desire.

“Officer, please, I can make it worth your while if you let me go”, you muttered, your fingers unclasping his belt.

Miller did not say one word, he just stared you down while you held his gaze. His waist slanted forward in an unspoken invitation, his eyes swirling with lust and wickedness.

You were not sure why you were doing this, or if you wanted to do this. But you were a horny mess, your pulsing cunt urging you to keep going, saturating your panties even more. Sure, you could drive home and ask your boyfriend to take care of you, but by the looks of it, you were going to spend the night in a station cell if you didn't do something about it. About him.

With firm hands, you undid the buckle and unzipped his trousers. His big, meaty cock sprung out with no warning, swaying in front of you. He was wearing no underwear. You marvelled at the sight ― his dick was the longest you had ever seen with a considerable girth, veiny and hairy at the base. It looked scary, but also fucking tempting.

“Don’t just stare, do something”, he commanded, grabbing your cuffed hands to bring them closer to his erection.

Ah, someone is impatient, you thought with a smirk before wrapping both of your hands around his circumference. With your mouth agape, close to his leaking tip, you rubbed the precum against his slit with your thumb and then started pumping him. His cock was palpitating, hard and velvety under your clasp ― and warm, so fucking warm you could feel his blood rushing underneath.

His jaw clenched, his eyes transfixed on your moving hands as you upped the rhythm. And then, without prior notice, he fisted your hair in a ponytail and drove his whole dick down your parted lips. You retched when his glans surpassed your uvula and coughed with his cock still in your mouth.

You were suffocating, but he didn’t give a fuck. In any case, he pushed his cock further down, but it had nowhere to go. His pubic hairs tingled the tip of your nose as you looked up, silently asking for mercy with teary eyes.

Miller glanced down at you and the motherfucker just smiled as you were still gagging.

“Look at you. What a whore, you’re taking it so well”, he mumbled under his breath before pushing your head back.

His cock slid out and you coughed to clear your throat of precum, swallowing it. His brutish attitude, although unwelcome, made your traitor of a cunt gush.

“I’m gonna fuck your throat to teach you a lesson. Open up for me, darlin’.”

You didn’t know why, but you just obeyed. Without breaking visual contact, the cop slotted his cock back in between your lips. With his hands on your temples, he tilted his hips forward until his tip stroked the end of your throat. Then he pulled out harshly and started jackhammering your mouth relentlessly, driving his cock in as far as he could every single time, his hairy balls hitting your chin. With Miller taking the lead, your cuffed hands were free. They were lazily resting on your lap until you dipped them down, your index caressing your deprived clit.

You just took it like a champ. After a while, your gag reflex relaxed and you dared to press your lips around his girth, so it would be more pleasurable for him. His slick cock was drumming in your mouth, filling it up entirely, choking you.

Miller pulled your head back sternly ― you were panting like a puppy by the time he was done with your throat. Your eyelashes were damp with unspent tears. You were sure that tomorrow it was going to hurt like if you had caught the worst cold of your life. Your mouth was filled with his sticky precum, a bridge of it connecting your mouth to his cock.

“You’ve not thrown up, well done”, he chuckled darkly. “Clean this mess for me.”

Again, as if you were not in control of yourself, you did as you were told. You licked his throbbing cock, swallowing all the fluids you had swept off his groin.

He lightly patted your cheek. “Good girl, now get up and take that finger out of your pussy.”

You had not realised you had been fingering yourself all along and your clit was begging for some relief. With a trembling sigh, you removed your hand from in between your legs and stood up.

Only then you caught on: he had not come yet. Fuck, you thought.

Did you want this? You were not sure. Letting him finger you and giving him head was one thing, but letting him fuck you was a completely different story. You were not a slut nor a cheater, but he made you feel like one. Your dribbling pussy made you feel like one.

Joel snatched his fingers around your elbow once again and made you walk to the front of his cruiser. He was in extreme need of relief ― his cock was pulsing so hard it was driving him mad with lust. He was gonna fuck that cunt of yours till you begged him to stop.

Unceremoniously, he splayed you down across the hood of his car ― your chest against the metal surface, your ass up in the air and your legs spread wide. If he could take a picture to jerk himself off to, he would.

He needed to see for himself, taste for himself. He was sure as hell that your pussy was drooling, beseeching to be filled to the brim. So he knelt behind you and parted your ass cheeks to have a better look. You whimpered, tiptoeing to give him better access to your soaked flaps.

“You’re such a slut. I could scrunch your panties to fill up an entire glass with your cum. Your thighs are all wet and tacky too”, he couldn’t stop himself from pointing it out, driving his hands up from the back of your knees, up your inner thighs, until they reached your crotch, framing your pussy.

He leaned forward and sipped from the fountain of your underwear, his fingers digging in the flesh of your ass, smelling your sweet sex. You wept, moving your hips against his mouth. Ah, yes, he knew you wanted him to fuck you hard. Very hard.

Joel rode up your tight skirt, exposing your ass to the elements. And then he pulled down your panties and put them in the pocket of his vest, as if they were a trophy. Because they were.

He now could have a better look at your creamy cunt, all smeared with your wanton fluids. Spreading your pussy open with his hands, he lapped you entirely a few times, even your butthole. Joel heard your moans loud and clear, knowing that you had never had your pussy eaten this good before. So he kept on going ― lapping, licking, sucking, biting until you squirted in his mouth, leaking like a broken tap and whining like a bitch in heat.

Joel drank it all and when you were finished, he stood up. He spanked your ass and with a swift movement, impaled you until his balls were flat against your thighs.

You screamed, literally screamed at the top of your lungs, when he stabbed you with his cock. You tried to hold onto something, but there was nothing you could grab. This was exactly what your cunt needed, being stuffed like a goddamn turkey in thanksgiving. Officer Miller drove his cock in and out of you lazily at first, and then he started fucking you stupid with such vigour that your body was being rocked back and forth, the handcuffs sliding against the hood, scratching the metal underneath.

You just moaned uncontrollably throughout the whole thing, unable to quieten yourself. Your cunt clutched around his throbbing dick, squeezing it hard, so hard you felt your muscles strain. Your clit spasmed severely, another fucking climax creeping up on you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK”, you implored to the sky, to him, to whoever was listening.

The cop then fisted your hair in a ponytail and pulled backwards, forcing you up off the hood, your back arching against his chest while he drilled you mercilessly. You were sure the squelching sounds your pussy was making could be heard from a mile away.

Then you finally came again, shrieking ― your treacherous pussy clamping down on his dick, leaking absolutely everywhere, trying to desperately milk him dry. Your eyes welled up, your black eyeliner running down your cheeks.

“You’re gonna take it inside and you’re not gonna complain”, he moaned in your ear and even in your blissful daze, you panicked.

“I’ve got a boyfriend,” you mentioned, but you knew it wasn’t going to stop him.

“Ah, do you? Doesn’t seem like it right now”, and then he huffed heavily, letting go, driving his cock as far inside of you as he physically could.

His warm cum filled you to the brim, painting your walls of sticky white. Irremediably, you sighed, heaving, and closed your eyes, letting yourself rejoice in how full you were of his spent, of his cock.

And as soon as it started, it ended. His dick slid out of your crying, sensitive pussy, leaving your damp skin exposed to the cold air.

You took a minute to compose yourself and pushing down your skirt. When you looked at him, he had already tucked away his cock back in his work trousers, his cop uniform slightly in disarray. Now there were more wet, sticky patches adorning his groin area, a mixture of your shared pleasure.

“Can I have my panties back, please?”, you requested, extending your hand to him, with a sunny, albeit quivering, smile.

“No, I’m keeping them.” You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Can I at least have a tissue to clean myself up?”, your voice grew smaller as you lost confidence.

“No. I want you to go home with your pussy bursting with my cum, so that boyfriend of yours knows you’ve been fucked stupid by someone else”, he explained, full of himself.

At least you were going home. Or so you thought until you saw him walk to the back door of his Crown Vic, holding it open for you to jump in.

“This means nothing, you’re still spending the night in the cell”, he said, matter-of-factly.

You scoffed, angry. “Are you fucking serious?”, you asked, although what you really wanted to do was cry.

But you swallowed your tears, contrite ― your pride was bigger than your shame. And right now, you felt mortified.

What had you done?

Well, you had gambled, and you lost.

But, on the other hand, he had fucked you so good, so filthy, you were not sure any other cock would measure up to his.

[darkenedurge]

𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐑𝐮𝐧𝐬 𝐇𝐨𝐭.

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CONTENT : Fem/Elf Tav | Subby Rolan, but then he gets a little more confident muahaha | Tail Play | Heated Make-Outs | Messy Confession | Fingering (F Receiving) | P in V Sex | Rip Lorroakan (fuck that bitch) | Creampiiieee 🥧 | Tiefling Tail Head-Canons (ofc)

A/N : i’ve been wanting to write rolan for so long idk why it took me forever but AGH here we are i <3 tieflings

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Rolan's head is reeling. Thoughts, realisations, spinning within the cavern of his skull. Lorroakan, gone. And, he owes thanks yet again to his 'valiant' hero. To which, he raises his head – lips, parting to speak.

Yet, not even a breath escapes him – not before he's barrelling backward into a bookshelf, hands grasping at his robes, and lips upon his own. Her lips. The lips he'd dreamed of for so long, lips he'd yearned for – yet so painfully denied himself.

Her tongue isn't patient, as impatient as she, winding its way into his mouth with a soft noise of satisfaction. In turn, he whines, hands reaching to grapple at any part of her he could blindly reach – clawing at her hips, drawing her nearer.

She rolls her hips into his, arousal coiling within his abdomen, and he has to muster all that he has to break for air – instantaneous in his mourning at the loss of her lips, her taste.

"What are you.. doing..?" Is all he can manage, in a panted breath, a string of saliva still connecting them – his gaze, hazy with desire, as he peers at her through half-lidded eyes.

"Something I should've done a long time ago," She replies, blunt, simple. Her hand brushes a strand of hair back, away from his face, touch uncharacteristically gentle in comparison to what he'd just witnessed – "I really like you, Rolan."

He almost laughs. In fact, no, he does laugh – a small, quiet huff of amusement. "I think we've established that," He quips, snarky as ever, "But for what it's worth, I like you too. A lot."

A brief pause. His eyes dart from corner to corner. Flitting between bloodshed, books and..

Her companions are nowhere to be found. To that, he internally, mentally, breathes a loud, genuine sigh of relief. She notices, a coy smile playing at her lips, her fingers dipping beneath his robes – fingertips cold, against the harshness of his warmth, bumping over the ridges that decorated his skin. Rolan feels a shiver crawl up his spine, eyes fluttering to a momentary close, as a shaking, uneven breath ghosts past his lips.

“So, are we going to finish what we started?” Comes her voice, Gods her voice, once more – the words purred against his ear, her teeth grazing his skin. He’s unable to swallow the whimper that fights its way out, chest notably heaving, “My ears are s– ahh.. sensitive..”

She hums, hand seeking purchase in his underwear, but lingering just above the waistband – awaiting consent. “I assumed as much,” She murmurs, “Elven ears are only the same..”

“So, I’m your first tiefling?” He asks, voice dipping to a low, rasping hum, as he guides her hand to his cock – hips stuttering as her hand began teasing, languid strokes, thumb paying mind to the ridges that adorned his shaft – alongside bitterly teasing the tip with clear intent. He moans. Pitched, and unrestrained.

“First, and last.” Is her reply, brows knitted in concentration as she peers down at her own working hand, wrist expertly twisting, earning further, mewling whines from Rolan’s mouth.

Rolan’s own, fickle, fantasies paled in comparison to the reality that had now so graciously dawned upon him, his thighs tensing with every pump of her fist.

“So sensitive,” She muses, and his hands grapple for the bookshelf behind him, “I wonder if your tail is the same..”

“Don’t–!” Rolan gasps, but his fragile warning is cast upon deaf ears, her spare hand already pinching the tip of his tail between her thumb and forefinger. He yelps, spilling over her hand with trembling of his thighs.

“Oh,” Her tongue swipes over her fingers, before they sink into her mouth, tasting his seed – “Very sensitive.”

The after-shock of Rolan’s orgasm blurs his vision, whirls his head. So much so that he hardly, if at all, processes her movements – the disappearing of his tail, within the caverns of her mouth, slick with saliva. It’s not until her cheeks hollow, and a spasm of pleasure writhes through him, earning a waned whimper from the back of his throat. “Don’t– I can’t, I– too sss–sensitive..”

Rolan tugs, his tail pleading for exit – her jaw falls slack, brows arched in question. He has to catch his breath, and he does so; though, incredibly unsteadily. Meekly.

“I’m sorry,” His hands, without forewarning, toy with her armour – a silent begging for her to be rid of it, bloodshed and all, “I can’t cum again, not unless it’s inside of you.” She blinks, still and unprepared for the first time since the mere moments ago that their encounter started. Her senses, however, are swift in their return – and she peels off piece after piece, revealing every curve; every freckle, every shred of skin that Rolan could only have ever dreamed of touching, tasting.

Rolan’s robes are much less hassle, and to a silent God he offers his thanks for it. Stripped bare in front of one another, silence offers it’s blanket. It’s her, who moves first, fingertips dancing from his shoulders, right down to his knuckles. He notices the faintest of smiles playing at her lips, adoring in its nature. With a swallowed breath, Rolan outlines her waist, her hips, thighs, ass, with his hands.

“You’re warm,” She states, softly. He hums, and with a sharp pull on his behalf – their bodies are pressed flush. Wordlessly, she’s lead backward – thighs hitting the edge of something hard, sharp, earning an expel of air from her mouth. A desk. Lorroakan’s desk.

With a grunt of effort, she was splayed before him – upon the wood of the desk, his tail wound around her leg, spreading her open with gentle encouragement. His fingers press to her lips, and she understands – tongue swirling, wetting them. With a ‘pop!’, the digits are released – sinking impatiently into her pleading, begging cunt. Rolan gasps, her cunt hot, and tight around his fingers, as they slid, in, out, in, out. He curls them, and her head is thrown back. Thumb, paying mind to her neglected bud, circling it.

“So wet,” He murmurs, not toward her in particular – more so, a thought that had accidentally been uttered aloud. Regardless, he doesn’t regret it. No, her reply only makes him wish he’d said more.

“Because it’s you, Rolan.” She whines.

Gods, he couldn’t wait anymore. She groans, at the absence of his fingers, and he shushes her. “So greedy,” He mewls, “Even when you’re about to get exactly what you want.”

The inside of her greets his cock far differently in comparison to that of his fingers. She clenches, near immediately, and blissfully so. His hips are steady at first, cautious. Until they’re not, her hands finding his in an act of desperation, as his hips piston at an impossible pace – her hips rolling in tandem with his harsh, needy thrusts. Lewd sounds encapsulate the room, skin against skin, raw noises ripped equally from both of their throats. It’s heaven, if such a place truly exists.

Delirious, Rolan barely registers, notices, the premature arrival of his orgasm crawling up his spine, strumming his nerves. A guttural, cracked moan is yanked from his mouth, and he spills inside of her – eyes blown wide. “I’m sorry,” His nose, buries in the crook of her neck, “M’sorry.”

He feels the shaking of her head, light and affectionate, against him. “It’s alright,” A kiss, tender as its pressed to his hair, “I wanted you to.. I’m yours now.”

“Mine.” The word, singular, is spoken through a hidden smile.

[jeonqkooks]

our beloved summer | jjk (7.5) (m.)

You made a vow to hate Jeon Jungkook ever since he packed up and left you without a single explanation, but when he shows up at your door after years of radio silence, it turns out that maybe your resolve isn’t as strong as you thought.

pairing: producer!jungkook x songwriter!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres/warnings: exes au, fluff, Angst, smut; THE REASON™️, crying because obviously there's gonna be crying, mentions of hobi leaving :(, cursing, uhm she hits him; kissing (well, of course 😂), br*ast play, t*tty s*cking, oral s*x (f. receiving), f*ngering, unprotected s*x, r*ding, cr*ampie, uhm idk i think that's it word count: 6.9k (poetic, i know) note (1): holy fucking shit i am literally shaking like a chihuahua as i'm writing this a/n. what the hell it's finally here. we've been waiting for this for almost a year and a half. TREMENDOUS thanks to Jo @daechwitatamic, Ari @/wintaerbaer (edited 2024: crossed out but not removed bc even tho she plagiarized obs afterward, she did beta this for me so i guess i still gotta give her that lmfao), and Jazz @jeonwiixard for beta-ing this for me and for reassuring me that it's not a load of crap (probably) and especially Jo for telling me if i back out she'll come kick me. frick! gaaaah. okay i'm gonna let you read or i'll go out of my mind

series masterpost / playlist ; moodboards ; taglist

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

I want you to smile, to feel like enough 'Cause you deserve yellow and lions and love I hope you come back when you're doing well Forgive me for being the worst of myself

New Recording 28 - Chelsea Cutler

The second the door is closed, his mouth is on yours again. 

His hand on your waist, yours in his hair, it’s similar to how it was mere minutes ago, just the urgency has increased tenfold. You want his suit off as much as you want your dress on the floor.

Jungkook detaches from your lips to let you breathe as he cages you between his body and the door, but it’s not like you can focus very well on breathing when he starts kissing down your neck, sucking bruises into your skin. His hands travel south, one palm curving around your hips to grope your ass, the other settling on the back of your thigh to lift it up, opening your legs wider so he could better slot in between them. With your leg lifted, it makes the slit in your dress ride up, exposing your core to the cool air of the room. You can feel his growing bulge pressed against you, right over your panties. 

You whimper his name when he sucks on the sweet spot on your neck, his hips grinding against you slowly.

“Yeah?” You can hear the smirk in that one simple word and the honey that drips from his voice. “What is it?”

“Want you…”

“I’m right here,” Jungkook says. His slender fingers rub you over the pink lace that you’re wearing underneath your dress, teasing your opening through the fabric for a few beats before he pushes your panties aside. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

His breath is hot on your neck. He presses his lips against your skin absentmindedly, the tip of his index circling you but not pushing inside just yet.

“Tell me you want me too,” you pant, your arm hooking around his neck to hold him close.

“I want you.”

Truth.

You pull him in for another bruising kiss before you blindly push him further into the room, your hands roaming the broad expanse of his clothed chest. He stops when the back of his knees hit the bed.

“Hey.” Jungkook breaks away from the kiss to look at you. “Are you sure?”

If Jimin knew what you’re doing right now, he’d say that you have zero self preservation instincts.

He’d be right, though. If you had any self preservation instincts, you wouldn’t be doing this.

Your stupid, battered heart has only ever wanted him.

“I’m sure,” comes your immediate reply. It’s desperate, but you don’t have it in yourself to even care. “I’m sure. I want this. Please.”

“You were drinking.”

“I’m not drunk. I promise.”

Maybe it’d be better if you were drunk. Then you could at least blame this lapse of judgment on a pathetic state of inebriation and not on your stupid self who’s always weak for him.

He stares at you for a minute, searching for any sign of your willingness being driven by alcohol. He seems relieved when he finds none, and it isn’t until then that he shrugs off his jacket, before helping you take off his dress shirt and trousers.

You haven’t seen him like this in so long.

Every defined line on his body, accentuating every detail that you could spend hours running your fingers over.

He looks different but at the same time, not really. A tad more muscular, but still the same lean frame. Hard chest and abs on full display for you. God, your fingers are fucking twitching with the need to touch him.

Once he’s been stripped down to his boxers, he leans down to kiss you before you stop him with a hand on his chest. The lone tiger lily on his arm catches your attention.

Your fingers reach out to trace the black ink on his body, the lines delicate, your touch feather light. You’re suddenly curious. When did he get it? You can’t remember if you two ever talked about getting tattoos.

“What does it mean?” you ask. It strikes you with the realization that this is just one of the thousands of things that you missed, a reminder of your lost time. 

“Please love me,” he says, bringing his hands up to cup your face. He looks at you, just for a few seconds, before clarifying, “It means ‘Please love me,’” then kissing you again.

Jungkook clumsily and blindly searches for the dress’ zipper on your back, giving it a few impatient tugs until it finally starts gliding down your body. Your lips never part from one another as the dress falls to the floor, pooling at your feet. But once you step out of it, he does pull back to look at you from head to toe. His eyes fall to your chest, clad in a lacy pink bra that matches your panties. The look he gives you is the same one that he did when he saw you in your dress earlier today. But there’s something else in his eyes - realization, pride, perhaps a question too.

His hands are back on your body instantly, throwing you onto the bed, crawling over you like a predator. He discards your bra with ease, flinging it to the floor with the rest of your clothes. You shiver when the chilly air meets your bare chest, but the sensation quickly goes away when he takes your breast into his warm mouth. You let out a delighted sigh, arching your back to push yourself further into him as his tongue flicks over your stiff nipple. One of his hands comes up to squeeze your other breast to make sure that it isn’t neglected, rolling your pebbled bud between his thumb and forefinger. He switches to sucking your other tit after a while, then pawing at the one he just had in his mouth.

“Jungkook,” you whine his name when he makes out with your tits for too long, because there’s somewhere else that desperately requires his immediate attention. “Need you…”

He releases your nipple with a wet pop, and he looks pleased with himself when he sees that they’re thoroughly glistening with his spit. “Sorry,” he says with a chuckle. “Didn’t mean to keep you waiting.” He starts making his way down your body, kissing every inch of your skin that’s on display for him, before you put a hand on his shoulder when his face gets close to your thighs.

“What are you doing?”

He looks up at you as his fingers ghost over the fabric of your panties. “Can I?”

You lick your lips, contemplating whether or not you have the patience to wait for him. But alas, you decide, “Okay.”

Jungkook makes quick work of sliding your underwear down your legs and letting it join the pile on the floor. Even in the dim light, he can see just how wet you are, practically glittering with arousal, looking so utterly inviting that it makes his mouth water. All of this, just for him.

He doesn’t waste another second, diving right into you to lick a stripe up your dripping folds. Swiftly burying two fingers into your heat, he doesn’t stop until he’s knuckles deep. Your lips part in a silent but delighted moan. You forgot how good he used to make you feel. Your fingers could never feel as good as his, not thick enough to stretch yourself open and not long enough to reach deep inside of you.

“Fuck,” you drawl, your eyes fluttering shut when the tip of his tongue meets your throbbing clit, teasing it until you’re practically grinding against his face. You thread a hand into his hair, gripping his dark locks until he’s groaning, sending blissful vibrations all throughout your body. The figure 8’s that his tongue draws on your clit sets you alight, sends you into a whole other dimension completely as pleasure courses through your veins. 

“So good,” he mumbles. To you? To himself? You can’t tell, but that doesn’t really matter. “Still so good.”

You hear it, just how soaked you are, as he begins thrusting his digits in and out of you. He strokes your walls delicately with each press of his fingers, scissoring you open for what you know is to come. 

His tongue dips into your entrance then, teases your dripping hole as you pant heavily, 

Your legs close in on his head as the orgasm nears, but he keeps your thighs apart, firmly holding them open as he makes you unravel.

This is fucking unreal - Jungkook with his whole face tucked between your legs, desperate to make you come with his talented mouth. You never would have anticipated this when you woke up this morning.

No, just a while ago you were crying by yourself down at the beach. Now you’re crying out his name as he smothers himself in you.

Once he starts curling them inside of you, it’s embarrassing how fast you come. You clench hard around his fingers as the orgasm washes over you, dripping down his fingers and he uses the added wetness to carry you through the high.

“Jungkook…” you whimper, sounding completely fucked out even though it’s only just beginning. After a while, the heightened pleasure fades into the background, and he presses soft kisses against your inner thigh.

He crawls his way up your body until he’s facing you again. You watch his fingers and the way they’re coated in your juices, wondering what he’ll do with them next. Jungkook languidly smears the wetness all over your lips like he’s carefully painting them, only to kiss you afterward. When you moan against him, he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. Your hand finds its way into his boxers then, wrapping your fingers around his hardened length, pumping him in your fist until he’s shallowly rutting against you.

The kiss gets broken when he suddenly pulls away, realization dawning on him. “Shit,” he exclaims. “I don’t have a condom.”

“Oh.” You blink at him, then you both just look at each other for a while. This isn’t a problem with no solution, even if the solution is a disastrous one in hindsight. You just want him, so badly that you can’t think of anything else.

He waits for you, doesn’t dare say anything else until you do.

Yet again, the opportunity presents itself for you to stop.

But you’ve already gone this far, and though it’s damn near impossible, you want him even more than you did before.

“Are you clean?” you ask.

It’s evident that he’s surprised by the way his eyes widen, and his silence that follows for the next half a minute. “Yeah,” he tells you.

“Okay. Then we don’t need a condom.”

He says your name once, his fingers brushing your hair away from your face sweetly. You always did like your name best when it used to fall from his lips so softly. “Are you sure?” he asks.

“I’m sure. I promise.”

Jungkook sucks in a breath, like he’s steadying himself, before he rids himself of the remaining piece of clothing on his body, then settles between your legs again. This time, his cock rests directly on your bare pussy. The anticipation makes it harder for you to breathe, makes you squeeze your thighs around his waist to not let him leave.

“How long has it been?”

Your answer is vague. “Too long,” you say. You don’t want to tell him that there’s been no one else since him, but you have a feeling that he understands it anyway. You think that he’d be pleased with your answer, that maybe it would boost his ego in a way, but there’s only a certain sadness that settles in his eyes. 

“Okay.” Regardless, he pushes past the sudden gloom that befalls his features, blinking away the disheartenment swimming in his irises, to align himself with your entrance. He rubs his cock against your pussy to coat you in his precum, even though you yourself are certainly more than wet enough for him to slide home easily. “Ready?”

“Yes,” you confirm, bracing your hands on his shoulders as he eases the tip into you, making the both of you moan at the contact. You feel him, all of him.

For a second, you wonder if he has ever forgone protection with anyone else, or if it’s only ever been just you.

Jungkook takes one of your hands off his shoulder to lay it flat on the bed next to your head, lacing your fingers together, giving your hand a slight squeeze. “Breathe. You can do it.”

“Give me a minute.”

“We’ve got time,” he says, his voice smooth like velvet.

“Can you kiss me?” you ask, almost like you’re shy even though he’s balls deep inside of you.

He chuckles lightly, so endeared by you and your silly question.

His lips meet yours sweetly, like doing so would help make the stretch less painful. Maybe it does, at least a little bit. 

You can feel his cock throbbing inside of you, and he’s probably trying so hard to hold back, but he keeps kissing you nonetheless.

“You can move,” you say after a while.

“I’ll go slow, okay?”

“Okay.”

He rears his hips back, slowly, then thrusts forward again. You whimper from the slight burn, but it’s nothing you can’t handle. His movements are gentle for the next couple of minutes or so, and it isn’t until you start opening up more that he sets a steadier pace. Even when he starts to fuck you faster, one of his hands is still on your hips, rubbing your skin soothingly. 

“Fuck,” Jungkook grunts out, followed by a sigh of your name as he pumps into your cunt, every ridge and vein of his cock dragging deliciously in and out of your walls. “You feel so good.”

He gazes down at you as he moves, and there’s just something so intimate about it that it makes you want to cry again.

You know what it’s like to have him fuck you, and this isn’t it.

No, this is something else entirely.

I love you, you think. I love you so fucking much.

“Missed you.” His words come out hushed, caught in half a moan, half a whimper. “Missed you so fucking much.”

“Did you think about me?”

“Always,” he says, without even missing a beat.

“No,” you clarify. “When you were sleeping with other people, did you think about me?”

“I only thought about you.” His hips stutter as he tells you this, like he’s confessing to something that he shouldn’t. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

You never admitted this to anyone, not even Taehyung even though he probably sensed it, but you used to feel like you could be physically sick just looking at the photos on his feed every time you’d lurk on a drunken night. They were never flashy, just subtle enough for you to know that there was someone. It made you nauseous, because the place next to him was always supposed to be yours.

You just stare at him, not knowing how to process this bit of information. Sure, it’s an ego boost. There’s some pride in knowing that you were the one on his mind even if you weren’t together.

He’s so utterly gorgeous like this that you can’t form a single coherent thought, too lost in the way his eyes bore into yours and in the blossoming warmth that spreads all over your chest from hearing his words.

How did he manage to get even more beautiful? Sculpted by the gods. The standard for all men.

“What is it?” he asks when you stare at him for too long.

“I…” You blink away the daze. “I wanna be on top.”

“Okay.”

Jungkook slips out of you just long enough to get seated with his back against the headboard and pull you into his lap. You hover over him, letting his tip rub against your dripping hole for a moment before you sink onto him. You tip your head back and sigh as you envelope him fully again, the only difference is that you can feel him so much deeper like this.

He grabs your ass with both hands, kneading your skin as he helps you ride him. The sounds that you make together are downright obscene, bouncing off the walls, ringing in your ears.

“Harder,” you tell him shakily. “Don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I want it to hurt,” you say, holding onto him like you’re bracing for impact, because you know he’ll give you what you want. “Make it hurt.”

Jungkook sighs once, then digs his heels into the mattress to steady himself before his hips go wild, thrusting into you with such force that it nearly has you sobbing, your head falling onto his shoulder. It makes you burn with pleasure, like a star before it becomes a supernova. When the tension starts building quickly, you can’t help but slam your hips down harder to meet his thrusts, to chase that high.

You press your lips against his skin, any spot you could find - his jaw, his neck, his shoulder. “Tell me you love me.”

The words are ready on the tip of his tongue, like he’s been waiting for an opportunity to say it. He doesn’t miss a single beat as he tells you, “I love you.”

“Mean it.”

“I do mean it. I love you.”

Truth.

For some sick and twisted reason, his words send you crashing over the edge, falling into that abyss of pleasure that you’ve been searching for. You say his name, over and over again, like you’re making up for all the years that he wasn’t around to hear it.

Your walls convulse wildly around him as you cry out, your toes curling, your thighs shaking. He holds you close, thrusting into you through your orgasm until you’re dizzy, like you could actually pass out from the overwhelming bliss.

“I’m close,” he tells you in a raspy voice.

You catch your breath long enough to say, “Come for me.”

“Where do you want it?”

“Inside,” you say without much thought. If you were in a clearer state of mind, you would know that it’s reckless and stupid. You’re not on birth control, and if anything were to happen, you would have no one to blame but yourself.

But you aren’t in a clear state of mind, and maybe this is even more dangerous than if you were fueled by alcohol. At least you can sober up from alcohol.

You just want him so badly that rationality seems like a luxury you can’t afford right now.

“Y/N,” he whispers shakily, though there’s a warning edge to his voice that you understand.

“I want you to come inside me. I want it. I want it so bad. Please.”

Jungkook groans at your answer. 

He doesn’t ask you to look at him, instead choosing to hide his face against your neck where you feel something wet glide down your skin as he grips your hips. It’s followed by a sniffle, and hands that hold onto you like you’re a lifeline. 

He’s crying, and that breaks your fucking heart.

You don’t know what to do. Part of you wants to tilt his chin up to look at you, because it feels strange without his tender gaze on you, but you decide against it even though the tips of your fingers tingle with the need to do so. 

Your walls clench with purpose, squeezing around him, trying to help you get there. It’s not that long before you hear your name falling from his lips in a choked out moan, so needy and beautiful and makes you nostalgic. He empties himself inside of you, making you shudder from the sudden warmth that he paints along your walls.

You stay in the same position for a few more minutes until your chest is no longer heaving with exhaustion and euphoria. He gently pulls you off his lap to lay you down on the bed, pressing an apologetic kiss against your bare shoulder when you wince from the oversensitivity, from any kind of movement at all. 

When he moves to throw on his boxers and goes to stand up, you reach for him. “Where are you going?” You instantly feel pathetic for asking.

He pauses, then squeezes your hand as that sadness from before makes an appearance in his eyes again. “I’m just going to the bathroom,” he tells you, his voice quiet.

The relief on your face must be visible. “Okay,” you say. Rationally, you know he probably wouldn’t fuck you and leave you the second the deed is done. But again, rationality is a luxury at the moment.

Jungkook returns a couple of minutes later with a warm cloth, and dabs it between your legs to clean you up. You grimace when he touches you there, evidently sore already from the activities you just engaged in.

“Sorry,” he’s quick to say, though it isn’t really his fault. Or maybe it is his fault. You’re not sure if that even matters.

When he’s done, he gets under the covers with you. “Come here,” he says, then shuffles your body closer to his until he’s holding you with his hands on your bare waist. He leans down to kiss you, and you let him. God, you feel like you’re fucking melting.

It’s different from the kiss down at the beach, and it’s different from the needy ones you shared in the past hour. It’s soft and slow and easy, like there’s nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about.

Jungkook breaks away eventually, and rests his forehead against yours then. One of his hands on your waist slides up to your ribs, until his thumb could brush the underside of your breast. The touch is gentle, sweet, completely innocent.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers. He means everything he tells you. “You’re perfect.”

You even blush, like you’re a stupid lovesick teenager. “Tell me,” you say.

“Anything.”

You reckon it’s self-indulgent at this point. You’re only asking to feel better about your place in his life, or rather, the place that used to be yours.

“Tell me you can’t live without me.”

He nudges his nose against yours. No hesitation. “I can’t live without you.”

Truth. You know it’s the truth.

Nonetheless… “Liar.” Your tone is soft. There’s no bite at all. You touch his face, trying to commit to memory every detail, how his soft skin feels under your touch as if it’s the last time you’ll ever get to see him like this. Maybe it is. You never got to have a last time with him, never got to know that it was ending before it already ended. You’re not thinking about the morning because you don’t want to, but the seed of anxiety is there in your belly. Your fingers trace his jawline as you say, “You lived without me. You were doing fine without me.”

His lips ghost over your cheek. “It wasn’t much of a life,” he says. “I couldn’t bear it without you.”

The thing is, you know that he’s being honest. And it should make you feel good that you affected him as much as he affected you.

But then… it keeps leading you back to that question. The question that you thought you could go the rest of your life without knowing the answer to. But for that to be possible, you needed him to stay gone, stay out of your world forever.

He shouldn’t be here, tangled up in the sheets with you and kissing you like his life depends on it. 

He shouldn’t tell you that he misses you, that he loves you. Shouldn’t tell you to please, love him too.

It’s contradictory, isn’t it? You needed to never see him again if you stood a chance of moving on with your life. You needed it and yet, all you wanted was to have him back by your side.

The tattoo catches your attention again. It feels like it’s laughing at you, mocking you.

You clench your teeth once, your eyes beginning to turn glassy. Jungkook sees it, and he’s quick to break up your train of thought. He presses his mouth to yours, shushing you with a deep kiss that makes your head spin, despite it all.

“Don’t think about it,” he mumbles against your lips, so desperate to get you to stop. As if he can sense where this could lead.

“How could I not? I don’t know who you are anymore.”

“You know me.” He holds onto your wrist, to keep your hand on his face before you can pull it away. “I’m still the same.”

“No, you’re not,” you say quietly, absentmindedly.

“Yes,” he insists. “Yes, I am.”

Maybe that’s true. Maybe you do see the person you used to know. But you only ever see him in glimpses and it always leaves you with a terrible, nauseous feeling afterward.

He doesn’t understand how much it hurts you to catch glimpses of the boy you used to love - the boy you still love - only to realize that maybe that isn’t the person he wants to be anymore. It feels like he keeps trying to kill that version of himself, like he despises the person who meant the world to you.

Are you gone forever?

Come back quietly.

“How old are you?” you ask after a moment.

The question makes him pause, his soft features twisting in confusion. He leans back a bit, so his eyes could focus on your face better.

“What?”

“How old are you?” you repeat.

It takes him another while to answer as he tries to see where you’re going with this. But when his search comes up empty, he just answers, “29.”

"I don't know who you are at 29. The last time I knew you was 24. No. You hadn't even turned 24 yet. Where was 25? 26? 27? 28? It’s unfair that you still know who I am when I don't know who you are. I feel like I never aged a day past 24. You carried on living but I'm still here."

His eyes well up once again, but this time, you can see it. The first tear spills over, lands somewhere on your collarbone. This is what you used to want, right? To see him hurting, just like how you were hurting? Well, be careful what you wish for.

No part of you feels victorious that you’re making him cry, that the score is finally being settled, because none of this undoes all of the shit you had to go through. If anything, it makes you feel even worse, like you’re still losing.

“I never moved on from us. I couldn’t move on from you,” he says, voice cracking toward the end. Your heart is doing the same thing in your chest, but you’re glad that he can’t see it. “I swear I miss you every day. I wanted you with me every day. You have no idea how much I wanted to come back to you.”

Jungkook looks so dejected, like a reflection of you these past few years. You recognize that look in his eyes. You know that sadness all too well. He was in as much pain as you were.

He loved you when he left you. He still loves you even after all this time. 

You inhale shakily. For the first time, you feel infinitely selfish for only focusing on your own misery without even stopping to give him the benefit of the doubt, to consider the possibility that maybe letting you go wasn’t something he wanted. Maybe he isn’t the antagonist that you spent years making him out to be.

There’s more to it, and you need to know.

“Then why did you leave me?”

Graduation was just shy of a month ago, and two weeks before that was Hoseok’s flight when he left you all behind.

You and Jungkook, along with Taehyung and Jimin had gone to see him off at the airport. Of course you did, you were his best of friends after all. The goodbye was full of jokes accompanied by sniffles, and tears that overflowed without permission because you all agreed that you would hold yourself together for Hoseok. Jimin was probably the one who cried the most, even though inside, you were equally sad to see your friend leave.

A part of your life was ending, and that in and of itself was depressing enough already, but you thought at least the whole group would still be together and start the next chapter by each other’s side.

Nonetheless, it wasn’t the end of the world. All of you could still make it work, even if it wasn’t the most ideal of situations. You promised to keep in touch, promised to message the group chat every day and have video calls every weekend. You were still kids, and kids tend to be optimistic like that.

What none of you could see coming was how everything would fall apart in a matter of mere weeks.

Jungkook thinks that decades from now, when he’s old and gray and helpless, he still won’t be able to forget that day.

He should’ve been more concerned when your mother contacted him out of nowhere, asking him to meet with her, asking him not to let you know where he was going.

He’d shown up half an hour early to the cafe where they were supposed to meet, just because he didn’t want to risk being late and have your mother disapprove of him even more. Not once had she expressed anything other than disdain toward your relationship, but you’d always told him it didn’t matter, that you were the only person who could decide what to do with your life, not anyone else, let alone your mother. He always believed you back then, even if deep down, he still wanted her to see that he was enough for you. Her unattainable approval still mattered to him.

Jungkook spent thirty whole minutes running on nothing but anxiety and caffeine. That was probably his first mistake, ordering a cup of coffee which only made him more nervous than he already was.

When your mother arrived, it barely took her any time at all to get right into what she came here to say. She hadn’t even bothered with a drink.

Was that how it was always going to end? Should he have seen it coming from the beginning? Was he the only one who thought it would be you and him all the way until the very end?

Maybe he was more of a hopeless romantic than he thought.

It was the way she had called him a phase that she hoped you’d grow out of. That she had let you keep this relationship for long enough, but now that you’d graduated - now that you’d be starting a life for yourself - she couldn’t sit back and watch you throw it all away for a boy who could never give you what you deserved.

It was the way she told him she didn’t want history to repeat itself. How she didn’t want to subject you to the same fate that she and your father had to suffer through. How she had left your dad because in the end, he wasn’t enough for her and you, even though you were a child and you deserved to grow up with a father and with love.

She said the same thing would happen to you and Jungkook, because you were meant for greater things and he was not meant to deserve you. She made it clear that he would always hold you back, that he would never amount to even a fraction of what you should receive in life.

“If you love her, you would let her go.”

Cliché, right? Like the kind of stuff you only ever see in movies? Well, movies have to take inspiration from somewhere.

He thought about his own mother then, and about how people could have such different ways of showing love. He believed that your mother loved you, and he still believes that. She wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of seeing him if she didn’t care about you. She wanted the best for you, and that wasn’t him.

She didn’t have to tell him to keep it a secret from you, because he wouldn’t have told you regardless. He was well aware of how strained your relationship with your mother was, and letting you know would only drive it closer to the edge. She knew he wouldn’t tell you. He loved you, and that was the one thing that she could count on.

Just sitting there in that café, Jungkook felt like all of the air had been sucked out of the room, even though he was surrounded by the other patrons and their lively laughter as they chatted away. The pitiful way that your mother kept looking at him forced him to learn what it was like to feel truly worthless.

The pity in her eyes only intensified when he couldn’t even say a single word in response, couldn’t think of anything to defend himself.

Silence meant agreement, and that was what he chose. Jungkook - the naive boy that he was - stopped believing in you. He’d believed her instead.

He was just a kid, what else was he supposed to do? 

She was your own flesh and blood, and he knew nothing could ever replace that. He would rather let you hate him, resent him for the rest of your life, than let you lose your family.

That day, he lied to you for the first time ever, saying he couldn’t come over because he was tired. The sunflowers he bought for you just hours prior ended up dying on his windowsill.

He wouldn’t see you again for a few more days, then for months afterward.

July was supposed to represent a blossoming summer, but all he could remember was the dreadful promise of a winter that would inevitably come.

You call his name when he takes too long to answer. “Tell me.”

“I love you,” he merely says. His hand brushes your cheek.

You frown, despite the way the three words make your chest tingle.

“I love you,” he says it again, trying to ease the furrow between your brows.

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I’m sorry.”

His voice is soft, barely even audible, but it’s this gentleness that makes his words ricochet, ringing in your ears loudly like a gun going off in the quiet of your room.

Again with the apologies.

Fuck this.

It’s hard to take it to heart when you don’t even know what he’s apologizing for.

You gave Jungkook the chance to explain himself, but if he doesn’t take it, then that’s not on you. There isn’t much else that you can do.

You swallow hard, then shove him off of you so you could get out of the bed. Your legs instantly tremble as you attempt to stand, but you soldier on as you put on your bra and underwear, then grab your dress from where it lays abandoned on the floor. You’re shaking, but it’s difficult to determine if it’s because you’re angry, or cold without his warmth nearby.

He’s quick to his feet too, rushing toward you before you could leave.

“Don’t touch me,” you hiss when he reaches for your arm. He doesn’t listen, because when has Jeon Jungkook ever fucking listened?

“Y/N, wait-”

“Wait for what?! I asked you a simple question and you can’t even answer me.”

He runs a hand over his face frustratedly, clearly torn over something. He holds your angered gaze, but the way he looks at you is much milder, gentler even if it’s equally frustrated. “I’m trying to protect you.”

You don’t know if it’s the wrong answer or not. You just know that in this moment, it irritates you to no end.

“Oh my god,” you gasp mockingly. “Someone is trying to kill me.”

“What?”

“Someone is trying to kill me. Someone is waiting outside that door right now, waiting for me to come out so they can kill me. Holy fucking shit, I’m about to be assassinated.”

“Y/N, I’m serious.”

There’s that burning sensation behind your eyes again. “And you think I’m not? What do you mean you’re trying to protect me? Protect me from what? Do you think this is a fucking k-drama? Jesus Christ,” you scoff harshly. “What do you want from me? What the actual fuck do you want?”

Jungkook aims for you again, and in an attempt to ward him off, your swinging fist inadvertently collides with his chest. The dress falls to the floor again, laying next to your feet, that useless piece of fabric.

It probably doesn’t do much damage to him, but he’s a bit startled regardless. So are you, if you’re being honest. But you do it again, and surprisingly, he lets you.

“You coward.” You shove hard at his chest, making him stumble backward. “You unbelievable asshole. You fucked me, you said you loved me, and you still can’t tell me why you left me.” 

He allows you to push him until his back is pressed against the wall. And even then, you don’t relent. Your fists continue beating against his chest as you start sobbing, spilling ‘I hate you’s in between so many expletives it could make his grandmother faint.

He might bruise in the morning.

You hope he bruises in the morning.

The least Jungkook could do is bruise for you.

You want him to curse him out for so many things - for loving you, for leaving you, for not even having the balls to tell you why he broke your heart. For coming back to remind you that you still love him. For proving that he still has you in the palm of his hands, and every twitch of his finger can make you feel like the walls are crumbling down on you.

But even as you tell him how much you hate him, you’re still thinking: Come back. I don’t want to keep losing you. Come back to me.

Because he’s the only person who can hurt you like this. When you think about him, it used to make you so depressed that you could hardly function. There’s no other way to put it to make it sound less pathetic. That’s just how it is.

You shouldn’t have agreed to this weekend, shouldn’t have been nice to him, shouldn’t have let him convince you not to think about it. You shouldn’t have opened the door for him in the first place, because there was always a part of you that knew he could get under your skin so easily just like that.

This wasn’t your second chance at holding onto him. It wasn’t a do-over. It was a re-enactment.

The years haven’t made you wiser, that much is clear.

You don’t know how long this goes on for, but at some point, you begin to wear yourself out. Your movements start to slow and the energy to violently sob leaves your body until you’re nearly collapsing. Jungkook catches you when you don’t have the strength to hold yourself up anymore. Why are you always so fucking helpless?

“You just…” Your voice gets caught at the end of a sob. This is rock bottom all over again. “You make me so sad.”

You grasp his arm weakly, feeling like your own lungs are failing you. You can’t breathe. It’s too much, too infinitely humiliating. He’s doing this to you again, and this time you have to shoulder most of the blame, because you are the one that enabled your own heartbreak for the second time.

You’re still crying, and you hate that this is the first time he’s ever seen you cry like this.

“I’m trying to protect you,” he says firmly, looking at you like he’s trying so hard not to break down alongside you. “Please, I’m so sorry.” The words come out as a whisper now. You can feel the tremble in his voice and the shake of his hands where they hold you. His big bambi eyes - the usual home of constellations - now house tears that threaten to spill onto his supple cheeks. “Please. What can I do to make you believe me?”

It’s those stupid fucking eyes. It’s your stupid fucking self.

“You need to tell me.” Your tears keep on falling no matter how much he tries to wipe them away. “I can’t take it anymore.”

“It’ll make things worse,” he tells you, his voice cracking as he does. He sounds like he means it, and maybe he does believe that whatever he’s hiding from you will only hurt you more. It almost has you caving, but you can’t do this a second time. You’re exhausted, both physically and emotionally. In the morning, you’ll think about how this is all so dramatic, the way you’re acting right now. The most k-drama-esque thing that has ever happened to you. But in the moment, you just feel like someone plunged a knife in your chest, and they keep twisting it, twisting and twisting,...

In the end, you decide that it’s a risk you’ll have to take, because nothing can be more painful than the absolute hell he’s putting you through. He’ll never understand how utterly excruciating it is to experience this kind of heartbreak.

“If you don’t tell me now, I won’t be able to survive you again.”

up next...

our beloved summer (08) ⏤ aka the JK centric chapter

all rights reserved © jeonqkooks. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted september 30, 2023]

[tossawary]

The Abbey of the Everyman in "Dishonored" is generally, as depicted in the games specifically, almost as two-dimensional as it gets with corrupt and oppressive fantasy religions. As enemy NPCs, the Overseers are nearly all witch-hunting thugs who want power at any price or just enjoy hurting people, so the player doesn't have to feel bad about hurting them. The "Dishonored" games also tend to take place in particularly miserable locations during particularly miserable times, so there's just not a lot of opportunity to see an alternate side to this strict and brutal organization where it might actually bring joy and comfort and community to people, instead of just being an arm of murderous governments.

Nevertheless, I do really enjoy the setup of the divine and religious institution here. The only god this religion has isn't a creator, he's (in the Abbey's eyes) an evil tempter who apparently makes people go insane. There are no heavens, only a hell of sorts, and the hell itself is definitely the weightier divine "entity" between it and the god. It's called the Void and it's made of magic and fucking with it for power blindly will almost certainly make you go mad in the long run. (It's also full of demon whales who are also kind of godly, but they're pretty much just chilling there.) There's no "good" god as a counterpart here, just the "evil" one.

So, the religion has the the usual "follow our strictures for a good life" setup, but it's coming at it from a "ignore the god as hard as possible, if you heard him talking to you, no, you didn't" perspective.

Which is, admittedly, not an unreasonable take on the situation, seeing as interacting with the Void apparently DOES regularly cause people to start writing on the walls in their own blood, if not worse. There are a few Overseers here and there (Khulan, Byrne) within a generally cruel and corrupt organization who seem to be acting out of some genuine concern for public safety and the greater good, and when you look at some of the shit Delilah's witches are doing for funsies, you can kind of go, "Okay, I understand why you might be fanatical about trying to keep this from happening, and you're working off of the teachings that you have."

It's just funny to me that "Dishonored" has the typical "evil worshippers of an evil god" fantasy setup in the form of Delilah's witches and Granny Rags and so on, but then the actual religious institution is built on rules and lore of "don't talk to the evil god or we'll kill you" and "don't use the evil hell magic or we'll kill you" without any kind of good counterpart. And then you have gangs like the Whalers where the general take seems to be, "Our boss has a direct connection to the evil god and it gives us all magic, but idk, I just work here."

And meanwhile the big, scary "evil god" everyone freaks out over is just some guy who got murdered by a cult a few thousand years ago and was forced to become the face of hell, and his main power honestly seems to be giving other people powers in a way that makes himself really vulnerable, actually, and he's doing that apparently mostly because he's bored and suicidal. And maybe also because he still cares about the world in his own way.

[eww-y-tho]

idk if everyone else picked up on this but i though it was neat

I wanna start off with a cute headcanon just because.

Bruce likes cereal before milk because of portion sizes (look it up) and John puts milk before cereal because he likes seeing the cereal float.

Okay. Back to the meat of the post.

We all know this. Very adorable, from a certain perspective. Heavy discourse on wtf happened. But I feel like this hug scene is the thing that convinces me that John did kill the agents, kind of in self defense, maybe going a bit overboard, but still. (arguing it could have been Harley that killed them and he's covering for her or he killed them in cold blood yada yada yada)

Captain obvious says that telltale games love putting a fuck ton of emphasis on your choices, and the fact that Bruce's shirt only gets bloody when you choose to believe John is blatant symbolism, in my very humble opinion. It's basically saying that Bruce and you as the player are getting your hands dirty by believing John, that you're an accomplice and also to blame, and are overlooking what actually happened. John killed them.

In this take, the meaning of all of the options are based on different interpretations on the "believe him" spectrum.

It could mean that Bruce showed John that their relationship is more important and their bond is stronger than that blood, this test will not break apart their """friendship""". I feel like "let's get out of here" is the strongest example of this interpretation, because it shows that Bruce is choosing to sweep everything under the rug in order to keep his relationship with John intact, and he knows that if anyone else does show up, his carefully crafted avoidance will be destroyed.

It could also mean that Bruce and John were further united from this experience, that their relationship is actually more solid, (i.e. the classic 'blood brother' scenes from literally every bromance on the face of the planet) and I actually feel like "I'm sorry I doubted you, John," matches this one up. It's basically saying he's sorry for not blindly trusting whatever John said and checking for himself, and this entire experience made their bond stronger in the end.

"I'm still turning you in" is the option that shows Bruce wants to have his cake and eat it, too. He doesn't want the sense of guilt, but he also doesn't want to hurt John, so it's saying, "I believe you because I care about you, but glaring facts tell me that I shouldn't, so I'll try the middle ground of ratting you out to maintain status quo while being there to support you." It doesn't work because reasons I'm too lazy to write down.

And pulling away is just rude, how dare you.

[f1nalboys]

since you're taking requests.. how do we feel about pegging feat. david the lost boys... i don't think i've ever seen anyone write about that and it's soo sad. missed opportunity imo

anon. i owe u my life. pegging david..... this is so delicious idk why i never thought to write it for him????? hes offcially reached pegging status everyone, thats how u know im down bad for the mf!!!! i had sm fun writing this and it took me way longer than it shouldve to write this amount of words but <3333 i hope u enjoy and thank you!!!

David x AFAB!Reader

WORD COUNT: 1281

WARNINGS: nsfw, top!reader, bottom!david, pegging, brat taming, choking, mocking, begging, hand job, threat of edging/denial, david calls reader sweetheart, reader calls david a slut, kinda proofread (yall know me atp)

“Hurry up.” David’s voice comes muffled, but there’s no mistaking the crack in it. You snort, ignoring him as you run your fingertips up and down his spine in a futile attempt to calm him down. He moves slightly, groaning as the strap, which was settled inside him, pushes in further. “Fuck,” he moans and you watch his pale hand grab at your bedsheets. “Just move, Y/N, alright?”

You snort. “Is that how you ask?”

“You’re not fucking doing anything! I just want-”

“Does it seem like I give a fuck what you want, David?” You snap, hands gripping onto his hips and keeping him flush against you. He doesn’t answer besides a strangled noise. “You want me to move, baby?” You ask, voice teasing and soft. It makes a chill go down David’s spine, hearing you say the things he would to you. “Then you better start begging.”

He scoffs. “Y/N, I’m not fuckin’ doing that.” There’s a brief moment where David thinks this is working, that he’s gotten you to break; Your hips rock forwards slightly and he grins, his mouth open as he gasps into the bed. “There you go, w-wait, what? What’re you…?” He feels the thick base of the toy begin to slide out of him and that’s when David catches on. “No!”

David’s hands reach backwards as he sits up onto his elbow, blindly grabbing at whatever part of your body he can reach, desperate to keep the toy inside him. You smack at his hands and he whines and you know he's finally where you’ve wanted him the last hour. “Use your words.” You whisper and he groans, annoyed, but you pull out another inch and the annoyance falls away, devolving into panic. 

“Okay, okay,” he spits out quickly and you pause, a third of the strap left inside him. David cranes his neck back to look at you and in the light of your lamp you can make out the fresh tears that were brimming in his eyes. A few years ago, the very sight of him like this would have had you apologizing, trying to make amends. But now, after all your time spent with David, you knew this is what he wanted. Despite his attitude and his clenched jaw and his biting words and his general antagonism, what he really craved was to be used. The way he treated you was exactly how he wanted to be treated, and you had earned his trust to let it happen. “Please, sweetheart, just… just move, okay? Don’t pull out.”

You tilt your head at him, tsking. “That’s all? Really? I told you to beg and you give me that?” He narrows his eyes at you but keeps his mouth shut, knowing that you wouldn’t hesitate to pull out. “Try again. If you fuck up this time, we’re done.” You pout, voice dripping with mock concern as you reach around and wrap your hand around his cock, stroking him slowly, ignoring the way his elbows buckle. “And that would suck, wouldn’t it? Poor baby, doesn’t get to cum.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“You willing to bet?”

“Fuck, okay, fine.” David grunts, eyes fluttering shut briefly at the feeling of your hand around his aching cock. “Y/N, baby, please. I need it so bad, alright? You got me, shit, don’t stop.” As he begs, your hand picks up speed, thumb brushing over his tip each time. You pull a shuddering breath out of him and you feel a bead of pre-cum against your thumb and it’s like the dam breaks. His voice is cracking and high pitched, his hips moving involuntarily, pushing the strap back inside him. “Shit! There we go, just like that. Holy fuck, I can’t… I need you to move, please, baby. I wanna cum, I… I want you to make me cum, okay?

“You can take it all out on me, I swear. I’m an asshole, yeah?” You hum in agreement, still not moving your hips despite the sight of David fucking himself back on your strap, taking almost every inch. You want to, but then he wouldn’t learn his lesson. “Then fuckin’ make me take it. Shove my head in the pillow and make it hurt.” He says, his blue eyes darkening ever so slightly. He holds your gaze, a single tear slipping down his cheek. “Please.”

Your hips snap forwards harshly, plunging the silicone toy back into his hole. He grunts, head falling back onto the bed, eyes squeezed shut as you set a steady and harsh pace. “This what you wanted?” You grunt, leaning over him and placing your hand on the side of his face, shoving it further into the mattress. “God, you’re so fucking dirty, you know that baby? Just a slut, isn’t that right?” 

“Yes! Yes, I’m your slut, fuck,” he moans. Your hand is still wrapped around his cock and you stroke him in tandem with your thrusts. The position is perfect for David; he’s feeling you all around him, overwhelming each of his scenes, giving him nothing to focus on but this. You move your hand from his face, bringing it up the nape of his neck to tangle in the bleach blonde roots, and you tug. He whimpers as he listens, shakily forcing himself up until he’s leaning back against you, your hand making its way around his neck. 

“You close?” He nods desperately, grinding back against you, whimpering with each thrust. His cheeks were red, tear stains drying on his face, his eyebrows threaded together, and that same smug grin on his face. “Maybe I should stop, ya know? Edge you instead of giving you whatever you want all the fucking time.” Your thrusts get harder, your hand around his throat tightening. His eyes widen, smile faltering but you can feel his cock twitch against your palm, now slick with his pre cum. “You’re such a fucking brat, all the god damn time, I shouldn’t fucking reward you.”

The more you talk about denying him, the closer he gets. In times like this you felt more in tune with David's pleasure than your own, and how could you not? He was loud, whether he was giving or receiving, constantly moaning and grunting, filthy words flowing from his lips, and you’d have to restrain him to get his hands off of you; it was almost impossible to ignore. “So fuckin’ close, there we go, Y/N.” He grunts, voice hoarse from the grip you still had on his throat. “I need it so fuckin’ bad.”

Nipping at his earlobe, you whisper. “Come on then, slut. Cum for me.” You pull back in time to watch his eyes squeeze shut, his pink lips part into a long drawn out moan as he cums, your hand  dropping from his throat. Your thrusts slow down as he spills over your hand and you coo into his ear. “There you go, sweetheart.”

“Shut up.” David says sheepishly, out of breath, as he begins to come down from his orgasm. He settles back against you and sighs, grinning at you. “That was fuckin’ good.”

Grinning, you kiss him on the lips before trailing the kisses down his shoulder. “Alright, let's get you cleaned up, yeah?” He nods, hissing as you pull out of him. The two of you clean yourselves up and settle into your bed. “Thank god we didn’t stay at the cave; the guys wouldn’t let you live all that down, would they?” You tease, looking up at him from your spot on his chest. He snorts, cigarette loose in his lips, a glint in his eye.

“Trust me, they’ve heard worse from you.”

[reilleclan-blog]

So errmmm apparently Neil is a Zionist which I'm being honest when I say this. I don't pay attention to actors or actresses or ppl that are part of development teams unless it's something I'm super fixated on. Like cyberpunk and cowboy bebop and naruto shit like that. So i didn't know that the Neil dude was a Zionist I didn't even know his name until a couple days ago cause ppl were talking about him saying something about Ai.

So I started reading on the comparison of tlou and Israel conflict and idk it kinda grosses me out that a story about revenge and change and identity , had something to do with "Israel vs Palestine" tbh . (Yes I'm gonna sound uneducated) but I didn't know shit about why Israel and Palestine were constantly going at it but it seems like Israel are just being blood thirsty bullies. (I really only started hearing about it just recently ) but yeah I'm ngl I'm kinda confused why was that the "inspiration"

I understand not Neil is the only person helping out when making the story but he was the back bone of it all. And idk I feel so weirded out lol. I didn't get a hint of Israel politics (prob cause I don't know shit about it ) but there's political stuff in everything and everywhere but yeah I'm so confused but then again he's a Zionist so ig it makes sense it's in his work. .. damn idk if I want part 3 anymore lol

So I just read the article I see the perspectives a lot. And I said this while I was playing thru the game but them explicitly letting the audience know Dina is Jewish was a choice. And most times when something explicitly says "this person is Jewish" idk it's usually for some weird reason. The article talks about "Jewish ppl surviving" and idk (dude bare with me it's 2am and I sped run thru the article I know I'm not writing a essay) some other stuff like they talk "oh this is an issue" but don't talk about a relative solution of the problems "the cycle of revenge" but why is revenge so powerful.

In the article Neil says something about "universal hate" and i genuinely don't think that exists I GENUINELY don't believe that. It takes zero effort to love and care for someone but to hate someone b/c "hate is universal" .. sounds a bit white supremest im ngl. B/c if someone justifies enslaving another person because of their skin color or b/c of their religion.. or being different in general .. u sound insane. So yes Tlou2 has Israel and Palestine propaganda. Ngl I hate those type of fans that just deny everything just b/c it's not explicitly said. There's a ton of evidence to back up the claims in the first place. AND AGAIN U CAN LIKE SOMETHING BUT ALSO GIVE CRITICISM ON SAID MEDIA . U DONT HAVE TO BLINDLY LIKE SOMETHING(but honestly most ppl wait for some random white dude to say the same fucking thing then somehow everyone starts agreeing lol) after finding that out tho it kinda makes my tummy feel icky inside. If Ellie and Abby were two white dudes I wonder if I'd have enjoyed the story as much lul

The article "not so hidden Israel politics of tlou2" from vice

I feel like I still have more to say about the game but this is it for now. And do not come at me sideways about this fucking game I will block u idc I hate annoying fanboys that dickride everything and hate different perspectives

[oifaaa]

Please tell me how Roy’s characterisation was massacred for N52.

I understand how Jason and Roy’s relationship can be annoying where Roy never questions Jason and just follows him around blindly, never second guessing him. Roy is hard on himself and lacks self esteem and so thinks highly of Jason when really he should be angry, maybe even jealous of the power (all caste magic) Jason has. Then i get confused because I’d think someone going through a bout of depression and self hate and self medicating would have low self esteem and would think everyone is better than them and that they are a fuck up so isn’t that accurate portrayal of how awful Roy’s situation is?? Doesn’t that show the way Roy struggles just as he has pre N52?

Additionally Jason always compliments Roy on his greatness and abilities (Not in person which is annoying because grr he has to be manly and can’t compliment a friend) but in his little thought bubbles he’s always talking about how great Roy is and how grateful he is to have him.

Now this is where I get more confused because surely Roy respects Jason and through Jason’s monologues he clearly respects Roy though he may not say it out loud. The point is, people exaggerate so much how Roy is used as a crutch for Jason to look cool but Jason is constantly mentioning Roy and how important he is for the team. (Though I won’t deny there are times he may call him a goofball or undermine him but I mean cmon it’s literally ‘Red Hood’ and the outlaws, not ‘Titans’ where they’re equals, so it’s understandable that Jason would have swords and magic and stuff and save the day whilst Roy is not the main character). Idk I just haven’t noticed Roys character being MASSACRED when he’s with Jason.

People say Roy’s biggest trauma is having to be with Jason but I don’t know why that’s so bad like don’t just say it’s shit writing, fucking give me the evidence. (Sorry for the rant no offense to you what so ever). If the writing is so bad then blame the writer idk why Jason gets so much hate.

Anyway, please tell me how and why Rhato is the worst comics because I don’t think it’s that bad personally and I’d get shit for saying that.

Ps. This isn’t even about JayRoy or Lobdells disgusting history it’s literally just about why Rhato gets so much hate. I’m so confused so please explain /gen.

Thank you, have a nice day :)

Okay im gonna start this off by saying I think your looking at this the wrong way, your treating RHATO as just a stand alone story and if you want to know why people hate it you have to look at it in the broader context of it being a continuation of three different characters stories bc that is what it is - kory Roy and Jason are all pre established characters with rich backgrounds and personalities that have been building up for decades if you ignore these histories your gonna get push back from fans and Lobdell actually took it one step further

I'm gonna be short and sweet with this bc people more knowledgeable about roys character can put it way better then me but lets get straight to the point - the reason why people say Roy harper was massacred in RHATO is bc his whole character was changed- his back story, his relationships, his addiction, a lot of his personality and hell even his tattoos were changed and changed for the worse as a lot of it seemed to get done just to better suit Jason who was also changed a lot by lobdell but not to the extent that Roy was - a lot of it comes off like lobdell didn't even bother to read any comics with Roy in them before he decided to try and shove him into a role that wasn't suited for him which if your a long time Roy fan watching a character you adore get a complete overhaul just so he fits with the character the author uses as a self insert your gonna be a wee bit agitated

When your writing stories in the dc universe you have to be careful as a lot of these characters are main characters in their own right when they team up together sure you can focus on one more then the others but you have to be at least abit aware of each of the characters your including back stories motivations and personalities and what lobdell did was use the fact that the new 52 just happened as an excuse to create whole new characters with the same names as these much loved pre established characters and this rightfully pissed off a lot of people who loved these characters especially bc the things that happened in the n52 have had a lasting effect as these are the comics newer fans are reading and if your favourite character has been given a complete overhaul into a character you no longer recognise too bad a lot of people are gonna go forward only seeing Roy as Jason Todd's side character the guy in the baseball cap

[w98pops]

Still cant believe a fucking terf is in fallout fandom intecacting with trans creators and drawing her ugly stereotypical twink transmasc character. You should be ashamed

What is even happening to my inbox anymore. Idk if it's the same person that asked about Sharky or not, but it really makes me uncomfortable.

I don't know where the TERF stuff even come from, but I'm very open with my political views and yeah, I was a radfem in 2019 or something. I also was a very vulnerable sad russian teenager. I know not a lot of people on tumblr aware of all the intricacies of russian internet scene, but I assume you, anon, have some knowledge, because you called me a TERF in the first place.

There's an internet phenomenon called "alt-right pipeline" and I fell in the simular thing called "TERF pipeline". This shit is inevitable for every single afab person that speaks russian. It's a really big thing. I don't say it's an excuse to be a bigot, but I was 12 when i first touched the internet. I was insecure, very fucking poor and spiteful. Also I had and (still have) some hormone problems and was generally a pretty ugly girl so coped with it by drawing ponies and hating on elusive and mysterious "men in skirts" these smart twitter girlies always talked about.

To be perfectly honest, I genuinely don't understand what russian TERFs are fighting for or against, I was in this shit for solid few years and still have no idea. I mean, now it's illegal to be transgender in Russia (a real law), but it wasn't a win for these angry teenage girls, it was a win for genocidal bigoted russian government, the same one that legalized domestic violence (also a law. its officially not a real crime in this country). I went off the topic and started ranting about my frustrations with the government again FUCK 😭

I tried to say that russian internet is genuinely a fucked up place, but I lived in the middle of Siberia in a village, ideologically only had my orthodox grandma, racist older brother and TERFs on the internet. I only started to learn english a few years ago, so i didn't have enough options before that. Or, to better words, didn't have enough knowledge to be a better person.

I'm really really and sincerely fucking sorry for that. Like, truly. It was really fucked up and I'm ashamed of stuff I said and supported blindly. I now have resources and have some media literacy in my disposal and basic understanding of english to educate myself about the topics I'm talking about. I'm trying my hardest to show support and love to all my queer friends and mutuals, and as an artist I do all I can to be inclusive, not because I feel the need to, but because I want to.

I have no right to speak about trans people and their issues and I won't. I don't know if Sharky is as bad as anon described, because I'm biased (this is my character after all) and not educated enough to acknowledge all the stereotypes associated with transmasculinity. I would really enjoy to hear opinions of my fellow transmen. To address some of my choices regarding his design and writing:

- He wears pink, because it's a quirky color that doesn't show up much in Fallout. Never meant to de-masculate him or to ridicule him. It's my favorite color, after red and brown, which are the primary colors of Wendy.

- He has a silly personality and a carefree attitude because 1) I'm projecting and 2) Wendy needed a character to balance out her awkward and moody autism

- He's a girl's boy and has wives. I didn't have the reason to make him not like girls. I wanted him to be an example of positive masculinity and solidarity. He is a straight dude who loves women. Not just sexually attracted to them or sees them as pets. They are his partners. With their own personalities and lives. Also I wanted to make a full circle 😭😭😭 I'm asexual and bi-romantic. I like boys, girls, all between and beyond boys and girls and don't really think sex is a big thing for me. Aletus likes boys, Sharky likes girls and Wendy likes when there's no sex. Pretty simple, I think.

Hope this explains why Sharky is the way he is. Would still really appreciate an opinion from a trans person. Or any kind of feedback really, because I've been feeling really fucking bad lately and can't objectively reflect on my choices. Also more questions about my OCs are very much welcome. There's a lot of stuff that made me feel like I've been misiforming people, including this anonymous message, and I will specify anything you want to know. Thank you all a lot.

[noxiatoxia]

@pumpkinmetaphor HII ur asks are off and tumblr DMs are a nightmare to navigate so I will respond here to spare poor poor op

soo I have quite a bit written out actually, but idk if it'll ever come to be ...? I think I actually made a post abt it a bit back. It's just one of those many many things I write in my downtime for fun that will prob never get finished. Anyways the concept revolves around werewolves because I love stories of protags having some deep secret they cannot reveal for fear of rejection or worse. In the story, Kaoru has been infected with lycanthropy after being attacked badly by a werewolf. He lies about this encounter to everyone, doctors and his brother included, as he genuinely believes he must have saw wrong. He was attacked at night when he couldn't see well, the animal seeming to be a wolf...but there aren't any wild wolves in Japan. So Kaoru believes it must have been something else. (side note idk how the disease spreads as of yet. Think either saliva in the bloodstream like rabies or it's a thing of if you get killed by a werewolf you come back as one not knowing you technically died...)

Soso Kaoru beings acting strange after this event. After weeks recovering physically, coming back home, his personality shifts unknowingly to himself. He becomes a lot more restless at night, much more snappy and rude, generally kinda acting like his brother more lol. He just seems to be losing his temper easier and being more aggressive and physical, even with Hikaru, who he also becomes more snappy with. Obviously he doesn't understand why he's acting like this, neither does anybody in the club.

Then the big thing happens...full moon baybeeee. Up to this point Kaoru would feel more awake/elevated heartbeat when looking at the moon, but when the full moon comes around, he feels fucking crazy. Like manic and uncontrollable and he starts to freak out a bit. However he sticks it out because the club is hosting a prom event like episode 2, so it's like, whatever, go home and sleep later.

Until he makes the mistake of forgetting to keep himself busy, which leads to him compulsively staring at the moon, and then he finds he can't look away, and well.

And the transformation thing sort of has him black out. In my head, I imagine the werewolves look like regular wolves, just a tad bigger with bigger paws that may be more human-like. Definitely makes him lose all cognitive ability, and by the time he snaps back to normal, he doesn't know where he is, his clothes are tattered, he's in so much pain, and there's blood, and he's like whaaat the fuck happened here...

He's able to hide these facts, not wanting anyone to know how he found himself when he woke up bc that shit cannot be good. quickly through talk he finds that morning that haruhi got hurt last night, so of course hikaru (who is doubly worried about his brother who disappeared for a chunk of the night) urges that the two of them along with the rest of the host club check up on haruhi (who is at home trying to tell them "im fine guys gooddd")

but like, ofc its the club so they knock the door down lmfao. and tho haruhi plays it cool, she is obviously a little shaken about whatever happened. she has some bandages but nothing awful.

turns out, as she explains, an animal attacked her last night (cue tamaki wailing) and she scared it off by blindly slashing a pocket knife at it ("WHY ARE YOU CARRYING SUCH A DANGEROUS WEAPON AROUND!?!? IF YOU NEED BODY GAURDS KYOYA CAN DO SOMETHING IM SURE-" "i use it to open packages senpai.")

kyoya of course takes the idea of a wild, vicious animal on school grounds very seriously, and so inquires on the appearance of the animal. haruhi pauses but admits it looked like a wolf. of course kyoya tells her that can't be right, it must have been a stray dog, but haruhi insists it did NOT look like a dog.

anyways, the club are in uproar about this, arguing back and forth about this wolf-not-wolf that nearly killed haruhi, and kaoru is silently watching from the back as a terrifying realization dawns on him. he remembered waking up with there being blood. namely, blood on his hands and under his nails, and a nasty cut he got on his cheek which he assumed he acquired by tripping and hitting something sharp. But if he pairs that with what haruhi says, it seems INSANE, but also...it would make sense. everything to this point would make sense.

and it terrifies him. it terrifies him more that hikaru swears up and down that he's going to "kill that filthy mutt" that hurt haruhi, and it terrifies him that kyoya says he's going to bring this up with school staff about increasing security. he wonders if he told them that it wasnt just a wolf, it was HIM, that if they would be merciful, or if they would still hate him. if hikaru would want him dead still. and the fact is, he HURT someone. his friend. this is his fault and he cant even blame his friends if they wanted to go as far as kill him if they found out, now that he is literally a monster that can kill people.

this, finally, is where the carriage thing comes in (took long enough!) the story functions as an elaborate ass metaphor, where kaoru's lycanthropy is a physical metaphor for his anxieties about the person who he's supposed to be, the harm he thinks he's causing other people, the harm he's causing his brother. he's running around, trying to find a cure while keeping everyone in the dark, praying no one finds out before he can fix this and fix himself. and if he cant, his only option is likely a grim one, but he CANT let anyone know, it's too risky, he has to do this by himself. his self-destroying obsession with keeping everyone safe and doing the right thing for his friends causes him to push them away from fear of hurting them or getting hurt himself. there's that part of him that's convinced he won't be able to solve this.

it basically drives him to his lowest point mentally and physically. he avoids all his friends so he can't hurt them with his uncontrollable temper or possible transformation, he's doing tons of shady shit in an effort to cure himself. he goes to nekozawa bc if anybody knows how to solve this fuckery its nekozawa and nekozawa treats him like a little lab experiment lmao bc of course he is enraptured by kaoru's newfound form and the physical changes it has made to his body (sharper canines, faster-growing hair, possibly an inch taller, newfound silver allergy). but of course as news of the wolf attack on campus spreads so do rumors, some "crazy" rumors about werewolves being real, of course rumors that are mocked by most of the kids as being nonsense scary stories, but this does NOT help kaoru's paranoia...

as for how this story ends WELL it's unfinished so you can guess (i have no ending.) i do want some part of hikaru obviously finding out at the worst possible moment, probably a very unfortunate circumstance where kaoru is unable to escape transformation on a full moon and hikaru is there. and he probably begs and pleads for hikaru to leave him alone but of course his brother won't do that, and obviously he is fucking stunned to see his brother turn into ?? a wolf. like erm *marvel voice that just happened..... and since kaoru has no control in this form, he tries to attack and even kill hikaru. hikaru would obviously not fight back, bc he doesn't want to hurt kaoru. that and he is stunned silent.

there are other elements of the story i want. for example, if i ever finish this thing, i do have ideas of ayanokoji being involved somehow. probably a witness to kaoru's odd behavior/actual transformation and thusly being able to use this against him cuz Fuck Da Host Club. or even try to kill him herself bc he's a fucking wolf dude idk. i also had this scene in my head with arai being involved bc the night kaoru attacks his brother he wakes up far as fuck away from tokyo with no memory except knowing A) hikaru was there and B) there is blood all over him he can only think of the worst possibilities so he kinda wanders in an unfamiliar back road in a fugue state until some lady almost accidentally hits him with a car and is like. who is this child covered in wounds and blood......and very sane thing to do she is like. hey do u need like. a lift. you look like ur gonna die. you have like 3 stab wounds. and kaoru is like. floor it chief. anyways turns out it's arai's mother ! woah. which is funny because after helping Kaoru and hanging out with him she admits she's like, "oh i helped you cuz you remind me of my son. you seem about his age" and kaoru is like oh ha ha that's nice of you....and then fuckin arai shows up a few hours later and kaoru is like "ohhhhhhhhhhh............................uhoh."

to which since kaoru doesnt have his phone on him arai offers to phone haruhi for him since he has her number and of course 5 minutes later the host club is at their location in a fucking helicopter or some shit bc ZOMG KAORUUU WE WERE SO WORRIED ABOUT YOUUUUU WHERE DID U GOOOO (hikaru withholding information)

it's an incredibly "fan fiction-y" story i admit. but that's the fun of it. it could get soooo dramatic too. cuz like yeah duhh hikaru wouldn't want to kill kaoru ofc not but OTHER people ? there's a guy who is a werewolf. umm. can't see that going over well. and the general attitude kaoru would hold and the way he attempts to figure everything out on his own. the day he and hikaru reunite after hikaru finds out the truth could go so many ways, from silence to yelling to crying to awkward laughing to kaoru just blankly asking what hikaru plans to do with him now, like he's a prisoner accepting his execution. sorry i am a fan of introducing trauma between the toxic codependent twins. and like the other members of the club? i can see people like tamaki being quick to try and help kaoru (despite what he did to haruhi) and haruhi being like "this may as well happen welcome to Ouran Fucking Highschool" but people like Mori or Kyoya may be more hesitant, pointing out kaoru, while not malicious, genuinely CANNOT control himself in his canine state and has shown multiple times that can and WILL kill people, including his friends, and that can't be ignored or brushed off. maybe they put a muzzle on him idfk. either way, it's also a great metaphor for stigma bc once his friends start finding out, they are obviously treating him differently. Even (or especially) hikaru. he's being treated like a different person now. it makes him feel more inhuman than ever. they only see this awful monster he can become now, he feels, and honestly, maybe they're right. it's not all of who he is, but it's a part of him, a part of him that has hurt two people he loves most, and so he can't help but judge himself based off that too.

well ermmmm yes! that is my funny funny story that i have like 6k written down in a word document of that i may or may not finish who fuckin knowwws

[dreadark]

something something gender (cringe

I envy people who can just shitpost about being trans or gay or whatever because if I so much as think about making a joke about things like that I start breaking out into hives

Ok how to say this without sounding… bad… (?)

uhhhhh

idk it’s pride month. naturally there’s a lot of art floating around about people’s personal experiences with gender and such. cool stuff

anyway it made me kind of want to write about it. but like… in fiction. Maybe this line of thinking is already problematic lmao idk but then I thought about myself…like…do I have the right to write about that even

I’m not someone who thinks you can only write about your own lived experiences, mostly bc that’s fucking boring, but…do I even understand this stuff enough to? Say anything?? ?

there’s a post going around saying that in some occasions someone outside a certain group will have better insight than someone in it/you shouldn’t just blindly trust someone’s opinion on a group just bc they happen to be part of it (paraphrasing badly) which I agree with for general reasons but also bc I am that guy that doesn’t know shit about fuck even about things that I guess I am

see… I don’t want to be a woman. or a man. I know that much

and I’ve thought about if it’s just wanting to escape the societal expectations of gender, and I don’t think that’s really it either…though they do bother me sometimes I’m just annoyed they exist rather than… idk how to phrase this. You get what I mean (no they don’t

really I just want to not be human …so uh. does that count as “nonbinary”

And I don’t really want to change my appearance either

and yea I get there’s no one valid way to be trans, you can present how you want etc etc but like. I don’t like my appearance either I just can’t think anything that’ll make me happier about it… whatever way it changes it’ll still be me. and that’s the crux of the problem

so...does this count…? I don’t know a lot of things seem to count but no one’s mentioned this. so maybe not in the end basically nothing about me would change regardless of how I identify, so I don't have any story to me...I'm just as dull as always

maybe I'm missing something everyone else seems to understand…but that’s nothing new is it…

welllllll until i get figured out as a fucking idiot i'll be chilling ✨

[acaciapines]

Your nanowrimo pieces are soooo goooood they hit so hard fr fr. I’m especially LOVING today’s one with the owl & the collector even tho I don’t rlly know that much abt toh bc I haven’t watched it but I can tell that u LOVE IT & I can’t wait to learn more thru osmosis once the fic is poooosteeeed✨ (i WILL read it i PROMISE i SWEAR)

Anyways give us the thoughts, the tea, tell us how you make the words do that✨ anything u wanna give in regards to today’s bit!! We’re not picky!

Hope y’all are doing okay! Gal says hi :) Remember to eat and drink something, take breaks, and look after yourselves and each other! We love you! This has been a Daily Interaction Ask <3

he he :3 im glad youre enjoying!! its been really fun to pick out my favorite bits even when usually those are the ones w/out context lol. look at my owl and weep boy. firefly <3

YOU WILL LEARN SO MUCH VIA OSMOSIS....literally now that im also doing something for s1 its like. why watch owl house we have owl house at home (the owl house at home is a 1 million word daemon au) (<- 1 mil is not a joke btw idk if it'll hit it but itll at least come very close. no idk why i did this.)

as for today! hmmm...

its truly so fun to write the collector. like im not joking about him being my favorite owl house character despite his maybe twenty total minutes of screentime, so its been such a JOY to expand his role in this series!!

bc like. god. actually i think i wrote a whole like. bit of flash fiction/prose poetry type thing for them a while ago. probably in my files somewhere. but just. youre an immortal eight year old. you are in these years where you need to interact with other people for your own mental stability and health. to figure out the whole Being A Person thing. and you are trapped for like, centuries. trapped away from everyone and everything and DUST, which, in universe, in literally connection personified. you're cut off from all of this.

and you are, let me say again, eight years old.

truly the collector is just. hes had everyone he ever cares about leave him--his siblings the other archivists left him behind not out of any sense of cruelty, really, but because caring about people just isnt really a thing they do. quite frankly they live so long they didnt even notice. theyre far-away stars. not far because they're mean. just because thats what stars do.

and then king's dad (who um. doesnt have a name <3 this is why the collector calls him 'the big bully' its literally bc i never gave him a name--) was an adult the collector actually trusted and looked up to (he meshed REALLY WELL into titan society until the archivists started Doing A Murder since titans are the only beings that match them in power and they have very very different ideas about dust). like ive said before the collector is owlbeastkin but before that they never had a super stable sense of identity--in another world where they stayed w/ the titans they wouldve ended up a titan.

and then king's dad just. trapped him in a tablet forever.

and like, to be fair to king's dad he was reacting out of fear and the best knowledge he had (he assumed the collector led the archivists to the titans, and like, he did, but its not like he knew he was doing that, and, you know, poor guy had seen a huge chuck of his fellow titans killed including babies and eggs of which he had an egg to consider), but it still TRAPPED THEM. and then he died and so did all the rest of the titans so nobody could free the collector even if they wanted to.

and then BELOS, who manipulated and lied to the collector for so long and was also literally his only friend after being alone forever, so like, of course the collector just blindly went along with whatever he said. he was gonna free them!! he listened to them when they talked about stardust which nobody else ever did! he had no idea what the fuck a witch was! he just liked being able to see the stardust sometimes, and belos brought him to places with a lot of stardust. to destroy it, but like--you know. it was THERE.

but all these people were just USING them, and they never really understand that until king comes around. and king's also a scared eight year old!! but like. king's also not wrong. the collector did aid belos in destroying the entire isles. like no joke belos SUCCEEDS here. like not long-term obvi this has a happy ending but at the point we're in at for the future? it doesnt matter that the draining spell failed. all the palistrom trees are dead. witch society Cannot come back from that even if they did end up beating the collector. theyre doomed.

anyways what was i saying. collector. right.

so like, then they meet firefly/grr-click-growl/wings-across-night/the owl beast (king of having so many names i love her <3) and shes like, the first person who cares for them and ISNT using them. even king is using them!! but firefly has seen Some Shit. she sees the collector as a hatchling who was kicked out of his nest and is doing her best to be some sort of stable figure for him, but she doesnt Not see the stuff he's done.

the collector took over the world bc he's scared--all he's ever known is being used and trapped so he doesnt exactly trust most people easily. firefly would Love to not be in this world anymore. shes also got a loyalty to eda and king and luzmari. and, like, cool motive, still trapping an entire society of people.

but like. shes the one who is here right now and nobody else is trying to help this kid.

but the collector just. hes just an eight year old. a very, very old eight year old. but he doesnt understand things like "you can make the wrong choices and still choose to do better later" and "im mad at what you did but that doesnt mean i dont care about you."

he just sees someone upset with him. just sees another person who used him and doesnt care and is going to leave bc everyone leaves him and in a world where EVERY SINGLE PERSON comes in pairs, hes the only one who stands alone.

basically tl;dr: collector my beloved <3

[just-jordie-things]

i dont know if you were asked this before, sorry if i am bothering you! Do you have any writing tips? I don't have anything specific but just any in general. I really admire your work!

you're so sweet!! i feel like i'm the last person who should be giving writing advice as i just blindly go into a brainrot induced stupor and spout off into docs as if i'm screaming into the void-- i have been asked this before but it's no trouble to copy it!! <3

a biggie take your time finding your style- as you can see on my masterlist i have a looot of shit on there from years of writing fanfic and experimenting. getting out of my comfort zone can be kinda hard for me personally, but with writing it was so worth it bc you can really see a metamorphosis there of when i was writing just to write and when i was writing with a drive.

don’t be afraid to ignore the rules of grammar. run on sentences are beautiful. i’ve found that especially so when the plot is driven by someone’s stream of consciousness as though they’re narrating it. thoughts are messy, they’re long and sometimes awkward and there’s no such thing as grammar in your mind !! of course spelling and punctuation are important and i’d recommend editing tho (idk her 😳) but get creative with it!!

thesaurus.com is my bestie 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 i often find myself using a lot of the same words and i don’t want to bore readers with repetitiveness! and also it’s just an easy way to expand my vocabulary too. (in person i stammer and have the reach of a fourth grader lmfao so i always want my writing to be concise and make the reader feel exactly what i want them to with my language)

also something i’ve started doing recently !! when i’m away from my wip and daydream about it, i write it down right away! in my notes app or on sticky notes or even my hand hehe. sure if it’s a significant enough plot point i’ll probably remember… but there’s no time like the present!! i want A to look at B a little differently in that one quick scene? i want to make them eat something different for foreshadowing? little details like that can be huge in your writing !! something a reader might gloss over but then realize later it was all a part of a greater scheme?? yes. so take note of those thoughts and daydreams you have !! even if you don’t end up adding it to your work, it’s better than having a profound, fic changing idea that you forget before you get the chance to write it!

this one is simple but a biggie- think about what you would want to read. i’ve been trying to keep this in mind as of late, especially when writing longer pieces where i want to make y’all suffer. find new ways to build the tension in your plot. give us different points of view, give us an untrustworthy narrator that thinks they’ve got it all figured out. throw in extra conflict. fanfiction is the melting pot of whatever the fuck you want !! so go stupid go crazy and make it something you love, and you should be good to go!! not to be cheesy but as long as you love it then you’re solid. doing something you love over and over will naturally lead you through growth and finding your style. don’t be wrapped up in notes right away (yes it can be a bit of an issue on this app- but none of has have control over how people enjoy your work- so you might as well focus on enjoying it for yourself) because as long as you’re doing something you’re passionate about and sharing it with us, more people will soon flock to enjoy it with you <3

lastly i just enjoy making mini playlists for whatever i’m currently working on. they don’t have to correlate completely with your plot. sometimes the sound of a beat is good enough for me to throw it on. if it gets me excited and planning out scenes i haven’t gotten to yet then it’s good enough for me!! i will listen to the same song on repeat in the name of ✨vibes✨ even if the words themselves have nothing to do with the plot i’m writing. that’s probably lazy basic advice but it works well for me and i love listening to music so !!

hopefully the copying of a previous ask isn't annoying and ya find this helpful! just my thoughts and processes tho, you gotta find a style that's best for you! and remember its a hobby. if you get stressed take a break and come back later! you're on your own schedule, and you don't owe anyone anything, so just have fun!

[apocketfullofhobbits]

i mean. i said 'they had me' as in their passion and manner of speach entranced me before i even fully understood their point, as it often happens on the internets and in other forms of media, but then my actual critical thinking kicked in and i started questioning. yes, the mention of gandalf was the catalyst of that, but im afraid that is sadly part of the human nature to only start questioning the rhetoric when it happens to be unjust to smth or someone dear to us (like that classic leopards eating people's party faces joke). im working on being better at not following the rage train blindly tho. after some thinking i just didn't like how smth innocent like painting a gandalf bc someone loves gandalf is bad and only original art is worth smth. i am an avid enjoyer and supporter of fanart/fics so that's not smth i can ever agree with. imagine getting this mad at someone drawing fanart? also maybe i don't know smth but i don't think disney or amazon or whoever the fuck can legally make money off lotr now will make the van owner pay for using gandalf (i mean they sure wish they could). also. what if i paint my nonexistent cool as fuck wizard on my nonexistent van and then i write a series of exquisite gay dungeon porn novels abt him which will get adapted into idk netflix tv show that will get a cult following on tumblr dot com and will promptly get canceled after one season, will i have to repaint my van?? seeing as my previously cool as fuck oc wizard has now gone corporate? but i like my Giantcockus Ivanovich Of The Midwest Magic Swamps or whatever.. he's still cool as fuck and i still made him up all by myself

[seobstarr]

HIII KEB

this is probably gonna be a long message bc i have a lot to catch up on but 😭 I ALSO CAUGHT UP ON OTC ITS SOO GOOD they need to fall in love and get married now!!!! is it bad that as soon as i saw a picture of jiung with a volleyball i thought of otc..

ALSO WE GOT PIWONS FIRST WIN!!! im so proud pf them i may or may not have cried im so so so happy for them when intak cried i broke down instantly omgggg

and one more thing but how did u actually start posting?? 😭 like i have so many ideas but my writing is dookie and im so scared to post it and idk how to do layouts nd all but UGHH IM RAMBLING

N EE WAYS i hope ur having an amazing day and stay safe and dont get sick and make sure to eat well and LOVE U ❣️❣️

-🦦

ITS BEEN SO LONG ITS LIKE IM TALKING TO UR SPIRIT LOLLL 😭

y/n and theo will BE TOGETHER SOON‼️🙌 TRUUSTTT but what’s a fanfic without a little miscommunication 🤭 i have big plans muhahaha but omg wait i think ab my fics?🤭🤭 ur making me blush helpppp

STOPPP BC WHEN THEY WON MY MOUTH WAS ON THE FLOOORRR LIKE THE GASP I LET OUT WAS INSANE!!!! I CANT BELEIVE WE GOT A FIRST WIN FOR THEM IM SO PROUDDD. For me it was when i went on twitter after and saw all of us rejoicing that i finally sobbed my eyes out😭 i was literally bawling, 4 years in the making and i’m so glad we got to give them this for all of their hard work but let’s keep winning for the other comebacks!! this is ONLLLY the beginning

TO BE HONEST WITH YOU…I WAS SO SCARED TO HIT THE POST BUTTON ON MY FIRST WRITING ON THIS APP😭 I did not have any confidence in my writing at all bc i came from wattpad (which is literally the badlands for literature💀) and if ur writing or your plot is bad then you won’t get any views like fr…

so when i published my first theo ff i literally just basically said “fuck it we ball” counted down from 3 and hit the post button with my eyes closed 😭 so safe to say that method checks out to be amazing 👍💀

FOR THE LAYOUTS THOOO i took inspiration from the other writers in my community’s and tried to replicate that! for me my long fics have a poster form (sort of like how otc has one big poster) and my shorter fics have a 3-picture style, where i put 3 pictures with the same color scheme in one row of text (kinda like how star-shaped keys have two pics that fit the aesthetic of the fic and one kyo pic that fits the color scheme of the other two pics!) from there you’d wanna put the basics which are the title, the genre, the warnings, so if ur fic has profanity or smut or anything like that and do notttt forget the description of the fic bc who would want to read a fic blindly??🤨 and any extra things you’d want to share!

for me i share a couple of songs from my playlist to help set the mood or list any songs that match the vibe of the story :P

OKAY WAIT NOW IM RAMBLING 😭 I HOPED I HELPED U OUTTT