#lol I didn't even include a good shot of the place i wanted

[wisdomnynaeve]

Wheel of Time S2 Countdown: Favorite Place

In which Moiraine waxes nostalgic for my fave place, Emond's Field, while Lan gets confused

[hawkinasock]

haiii pls spill abt ur chimera yq ideas... i have my own (https://www.tumblr.com/waterfrontcomplex/758520749229277184/dunmeshi-chapter-37ep-17-spoilers-look?source=share)

i also drew my own idea of him (swallow + abundant deer)

Yes ofc!! I'm so happy that someone else has had this idea too, it has so much potential. I want to see all the chimera Yanqings.

Mine looks like this. I actually didn't have a design drawn out for him initially, so I had to whip something up quickly. That's why it took me so long to answer </3

Originally, he had a more swallow-based design.

I still really like it, but I changed the lore a lot, so I made the new one, the current au, which goes something like this:

(CW for blatant body horror, descriptions of digestion, as well as brief details regarding real world animal death)

Here's my idea. Like most aeons, Lan The Hunt has emanators that carry out their will. One of these emanator's is currently unnamed and without a solid design yet. It has an animalistic appearance in my head. Imagine Feixiao's inner beast, or the Mourning Aix from WuWa. That'll give you the best reference.

It travels the cosmos, tracking down and eliminating the Abundance. it does this with the use of extremely powerful olfactory cells. Even with galaxies separating them, the emanator can detect abominations through smell alone, and when it finds one, it will consume it to ensure it cannot possibly regenerate.

Suffice to say, it's very good at its job, and Yanqing, unfortunately, is not an exception to their heightened senses. Surprisingly to no one, Abundance Yanqing coexists with this au, and he is immediately recognized as an abomination when the emanator is in proximity of the Luofu. Yanqing is unaware of his status as an spawn of Yaoshi, so when the devourer of monsters (working title) visits the Luofu, he never would have expected it to turn its eyes onto him.

To say the Luofu is thrown into chaos when one of Lan's emanator's eats a Liuetenant of The Hunt is an understatement. The emanator insists no mistake has been made and it is justified through Lan's divine will. It actually shifts the blame onto Jing Yuan for assigning an abomination as his Lieutenant in the first place, citing incompetence on his part. Kind of a shitty thing to do after eating the man's son but okay...

Not long after, the emanator starts to... change. It begins experiencing sudden and visible signs of mara: bouts of aggression, delirium, and eventually flora and fungus sprouting from its flesh. It's incorrectly concluded that Yanqing's death was a result of early unset mara in the emanator, and Jing Yuan decides the emanator has to be killed via decapitation, such is their duty as followers of The Hunt.

You can probably guess where this is going.

So, you know how bones are capable of fusing together or into other objects during the healing process? Like that deer that was shot by an arrow and the ribcage actually fused itself with the arrow? That's essentially how chimera Yanqing is born.

As an abomination, Yanqing is capable of postmortem regeneration, and as an abomination that is particularly favored by Yaoshi (in my delusional mind) his regeneration capabilities far exceed that of the average denizen, and one this emanator's digestive system was not capable of overriding.

Much like how that deer bone fused with the arrow, Yanqing's body begins the process of fusing back together after partial consumption, and during that process, he inadvertently fuses with the emanator's body, which triggered those mara symptoms. Additionally, because there had also been remains of other denizens in the emanator's stomach, they were unintentionally included in the revitalization process. This, in the end, gave the chimera's body the claws of a Borisin, the wings of a Wingweaver, and the head of a human (his body structure is also the same as the Houyhnhnm, but that's obviously a coincidence on my part lol).

The flowers and mushrooms don't really serve any other purpose besides looking pretty and emphasizing his connection to the abundance - his power is so palpable that life is literally sprouting through his skin. I just think it's kinda neat.

Anyways, in terms of psychological aftereffects, Yanqing himself is still there. However, his sense of self is muddied and most of his memories suppressed. Because he's at the head, he's in control of his own movements and actions. Usually, he's completely docile, but in the face of people currently trying to kill him, he becomes confused and scared, and fights back in self-defense. He's also experiencing prolonged dysmorphia from his new form, which causes him greater confusion and even pain.

For Jing Yuan? I think everyone would agree he wouldn't want to kill Yanqing. He believes there's still a way to reverse Yanqing's affliction, even if the Ten Lords insist otherwise.

Currently I don't have an detailed outline of what happens next. My current ideas are similar to yours actually, where the disciples take an interest in Yanqing for whatever reason, be it desperation to stop the Luofu from killing him and seeing him as blessed by Yaoshi, what have you. It could honestly go a similar route as Dvalin's manipulation by the hands of the Abyss. If I were to give this au a happy ending, I could incorporate the Viscorpus' ability to shapeshift and have Yanqing hone that ability, allowing him to regain his human form.

That's all I have for what was meant to be a short, detailed summary </3 All these asks always end with me yapping, forgive me. I've had this au cooking in my head for so long now, and I'm glad I have an excuse to spurge about it now.

(p.s. pls make more of your chimera au, I would eat it up)

[summercourtship]

𝖍𝖆𝖚𝖓𝖙 | 𝖉𝖆𝖓𝖓𝖞 '𝖏𝖊𝖉 𝖔𝖑𝖘𝖊𝖓' 𝖏𝖔𝖍𝖓𝖘𝖔𝖓 𝖝 𝖋!𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 | 18+

I started writing this in fall 2020. At it's most ambitious, it was going to be a multi-chapter fic but that obviously didn't and won't happen so here: have it reimagined as a one-shot. You might be able to tell where it would have expanded into a larger story, but I tried to condense it. If anything that is here is eerily similar to something else I've written, it's because I've probably taken it from this draft lol. Also TBH I'm trying to not be as explicit in my sex scenes because I just feel more comfortable writing that way. Which seems like the opposite of a goal: for years, I've been trying to become better at writing super explicit scenes and now I'm trying to reel it in and make it (hopefully) match the rest of my prose. IDK. Happy Halloween!

brief summary: A one-shot about being stalked by your coworker who is also the serial killer terrorizing the town. warnings: slightly dubious consent due to threat of death, stalking, horror themes, knife play, PIV sex, some dirty talk | word count: 4025

danny 'jed olsen' johnson masterpost | read on ao3

You smell him before you see him. Stale cigarette smoke, coffee, and the unspecific musk of his cologne. On anyone else, you’d hate it. But with him, it’s become an almost comforting scent, indicative of one of your favorite people’s presence. When he rounds the corner and comes into your view, you can’t help the tiny smile that crosses your face.

“Hi Jed!” You chirp as he comes to a stop in front of your desk, placing his coffee on the corner of your desk to free his hands as he rummages in his side satchel bag. He gives you a smile in return, pulling out a thin file folder and flipping it open. 

“Here are those photos you wanted me to get,” He hands over a small stack of pictures, all developed and ready to go. Last week, you asked him to take the pictures on a whim, thinking you might just have to go down yourself with your crappy hand-me-down camera and snap a picture for the article you’re working on. But, to your surprise, he agreed quickly. 

The article isn’t anything special- in fact it’s quite the opposite. A filler piece for the middle section of the paper that no one really read. Despite this, you couldn’t bring yourself to bullshit the article, and still put forth an unnecessary amount of effort into the piece. No one would read it now, but perhaps it could be added to your portfolio for when you finally left this town. 

The photos are good- which isn’t a surprise considering who took them. Everything Jed did seemed to turn out well, even when he didn’t try. You wonder what he looks like doing something he’s actually passionate about.

“I didn’t think you’d have these ready so soon!” You say, flipping through the four pictures he handed over. You’d have to choose one- you’re lucky they’re even letting you include a picture in the meaningless article. “I mean, aren’t you busy with Ghostface?” 

He gives a small exhale, like he’s laughing at his own inside joke. “A little bit.” He pauses. “Maybe I wanted a break to go take some pictures of the duck pond in the park. Riveting stuff you’re writing about.”

“Excuse me, but the purported existence of an otter in the duck pond is very important news. Would be front-page worthy if there wasn’t someone else taking up the headlines.” You laugh before stopping for a moment, thinking about what you just said. “Oh my god, I’m sorry. People are dead and I’m making jokes about an otter.” 

“Don’t worry about it, everyone copes in different ways.” He smiles down at you. “Especially when you have no idea if you’re next.” 

“That’s morbid, but fair.” You say, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You don’t notice how his eyes flick to follow the movement. “Anyways, thanks again for the pictures. I will have to find a way to repay you.” 

“Don’t worry about it.” He smiles again, different this time. This is the smile that makes your stomach swoop and your heart skip a beat. Your face heats and you stop thinking for a second, but you press on.

“No, please-” 

“I wouldn’t want to put you out like that. Times are hard.” 

“I- okay.” You sit back, looking at him. He nods and starts to leave, but the part in you that insisted on somehow repaying him took over and you were speaking up once more.

“Jed!” He turns and looks back, eyebrows raised. “Um, at least let me take you out for coffee? Just as a thanks, not repayment.” He thinks about it for a moment, your heart racing as you wait with bated breath for his answer. If he didn’t say yes, you’d never be able to look at him again. You might have to leave town immediately.

“Sure, but let’s make it a date instead.” He gives you a tiny smile and a wink that you barely register, before turning and walking away. Giddy, you sit back in your chair, trying not to hide your face in your hands. Instead you focus on the pictures, flipping through them to distract yourself from the newfound excitement in your veins.

____

Despite the fact that there was a masked stalker-murderer prowling the streets of your town, you felt no fear walking home. Maybe it’s a remnant of your teenage “nothing can hurt me” years. Maybe it’s just your stupidity rearing its ugly head at the worst time. 

Or maybe you just like the thrill of it all.

You had listened to the warnings- check behind you when you walk, keep an eye out for anything abnormal, lock your windows, lock your doors, don’t hang out places alone. However, you followed them a little haphazardly. You didn’t engage in any behaviors that could be misconstrued as inviting danger into your life, but you also didn’t necessarily allow the paranoia to get to your head.

If you did, you might have died from sheer terror and helplessness. Or perhaps you would’ve been more careful, and would’ve definitely noticed that you had already unknowingly disregarded the warnings.

Someone was following you.

And they had been following you for a while.

____

You wake up suddenly. It’s like that sometimes- not gently, or gradually. You’re just... awake. Brain racing to catch up with your surroundings, you sit up. No clock around, but you’d hazard a guess that it’s somewhere around 3AM. Running a hand through your hair, you sigh, the dream you’d been having already disappearing from your memory. Plopping back onto your pillow, you close your eyes and wait for sleep to come back to you.

It’s funny how the air conditioning can sound like someone breathing, deep and slow. You vaguely register that something isn’t right here, but sleep takes over before you can linger on that thought. 

__

The best coffee shop in town is a small, cluttered shop off of the main road. It’s tucked away between a barbershop and a vintage store, far enough away from the main street that any tourists wouldn’t come by it. (Not that there were many of those now that a serial killer prowled the streets at night.)

“You okay?”

You look up from where you’d been staring into your coffee, even though it was probably too late in the day to be drinking it, the sky already darkening with the approaching evening. But your body was thick with exhaustion for reasons you weren’t quite sure and you needed to finish another pointless article when you went home. Jed had his own coffee, so at least you weren’t alone in your desire for evening caffeination. 

“Yeah, I’m just… trying to not psych myself out about everything going on. The news says it's good to be careful but I know I’d just end up taking it too far and becoming paranoid.” 

“No one knows how to deal with this.” He says, simply. You only nod in agreement and take a sip from the coffee. 

A breaking news report on the TV in the corner of the room catches your eye. GHOSTFACE STRIKES AGAIN screams the caption at the bottom of the screen. You silently nudge Jed and direct his attention towards it. For a moment, it looks like the echo of a smile crosses his face, but it’s gone before you can truly absorb it. His face is stony, and he looks back at you. 

“Are you gonna write about that?” You ask. 

“Tomorrow.” 

“What number is this?”

“Six.” He answers without hesitation. You force yourself to take a deep breath to try and calm the beating of your heart. Every time the news breaks, it feels like the first time. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to hearing about another brutal murder, and maybe that’s a good thing. It means you aren’t desensitized to it yet. You only realize that Jed is watching you carefully when he asks, again: “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine. Why are you so worried about me? You could be next too.”

“I think I can handle it if it comes to that.” He took a sip from his coffee to hide his smile. If you found this odd, you didn’t remark on it. “At least let me walk you home tonight.” 

You stared at him, unsure why you were suddenly uneasy, why an alarm was going off somewhere in the back of your head. Then you decided that it was stupid. You knew Jed. He took pictures of the duck pond for you. Hardly anything to be frightened by. 

“That would be nice, thanks.” 

___

After a week of waking up in the middle of the night, you were certain there was something else going on that your body was trying to tell you. When your eyes open, once again barely past two A.M., you sit up in your bed instead of trying to go back to sleep right away like you normally do. The shadows in your room seemed deeper tonight, your curtains blocking out most of the light from the street. 

You stare into the corner, hoping that the shape manifesting in the darkness was just your eyes playing tricks on you and you could go back to sleep. But you knew better. Slowly, your eyes adjust to the low light and you’re able to make out the dark figure standing in the shadows. 

“...Go away.” 

Slowly, with the creak of leather, the figure shook its head. You take a careful breath, trying not to let your fear show. But it must be palpable in the air, there's no way it wasn’t. 

“What do you want?” 

The headlights of a car driving by shined into your room for a brief second, illuminating the figure and the mask he wore like a bolt of lightning struck down outside. It only confirmed what you had been afraid of since you’d woken to see a dark shadow in your corner, as his mask was barely visible in the dark room. 

But it seems that Ghostface has, indeed, marked you as his next victim. 

You move, bolting out of bed. He must want to give chase because he lets you fling your door open and run down the hall, his steady footsteps following you. But he catches up to you quickly, his body slamming into yours and pressing you against the wall, his arms wrapping around your front. Before you can begin to struggle, the thin edge of a blade is pressed against your throat, effectively stopping you in your tracks. You can only respond with a choked cry.  

The hard length of his body presses against your back, a firm barrier between you and your freedom. He adjusts slightly, allowing you to feel the other hard length pressing against you, though you can only barely feel it through the layers of his outfit. But you know it’s there. 

You exhale shakily, and you don’t know if it's from fear or your own arousal. (Or both). 

His chest hits your back as he breathes, standing still with you as your mind tries to catch up with everything that has happened in the past few seconds.

“Let me go.” You whisper. His arms flex around you, squeezing slightly. “Please.”

To your surprise, his grip loosens. 

“Call the cops and I’ll skin you alive.” He hisses in your ear, his voice rough from the modulator he’s using. 

And then he’s gone, leaving you standing frozen in your hallway, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Why wasn’t he killing you? Why wasn’t your blood splattered on the walls, why did he let you go?

Despite his warning, you did consider calling the cops. But really, what would they do? Ghostface was gone. There was no evidence aside from the thin line of red on your throat where he’d pressed the knife, and even that was fading quickly.

Instead, you return to your room, curling under the covers and staring at the wall until the room brightens with the dawn. 

___

You had no idea if Ghostface continued to watch you. You were certain he was. You’d come home to things in obviously different positions. It was like he was taunting you, begging you to do something about it.

You simply put the objects back where they belonged and continued about your day.  

___

“Is there something you wanted to tell me?” Jed asks, a few dates later when you’re sitting on your couch with him and perched on the edge of the cushion, your muscles tense like you were about to take off running, and he seems so understanding in that moment that you almost blurt out what has been happening for the past two weeks. But fear takes a hold of you, and instead you simply shake your head. 

“No, no. There’s nothing.”

___

The second time you actually see Ghostface, you’re barely prepared for it. You knew, deep down, that he’d be back at some point and yet you were still surprised when you arrived home to an open window, your sheer curtains fluttering in the hot wind as the humidity from outside filled the room. 

You drop your bag, staring at the open window like it was a rabid animal that was going to attack. Then, slowly, you turn your head to the corner, where you can feel his eyes on you. 

Even though you can’t see his eyes through the mask, you can feel the moment you make eye contact with him. 

Ghostface starts walking towards you and you don’t know why you don’t move. The door is right behind you and yet you stand there, watching as he approaches you with slow and measured steps as the streetlight from outside glints off the knife he holds loosely in his hand. You swallow thickly. 

Then, when he’s only a step away and after you’ve had ample time to turn around and run away, he grabs the side of your head, his gloved hand threading through your hair. Finally, your brain catches up to your situation and you struggle against his hold. You vaguely register him shushing you from behind the mask but your heart is racing too fast in your ears to really pick up on it. 

As a response to your thrashing, he places the flat edge of the knife against your cheek, a silent threat that stills your movement. You stare at him, stuck between his knife and his hand. (You should’ve run, why didn’t you run?)

He clicks his tongue, the noise distorted by the voice modulator in his mask as he shakes his head.

“Be good for me, won’t you?”  

Something shifts-- maybe it’s the wind from the open window or maybe he leans in a fraction closer but you suddenly catch a whiff of his scent. He must’ve been covering it up with a heavier cologne in his previous visits, because you would have easily recognized this from the first visit. Stale cigarette smoke, coffee, and an unidentifiable musk of his (usual) cologne.

It’s like being dunked in ice cold water after a warm day in the sun. You stare up at Ghostface, your brain quickly piecing together all the things you hadn’t consciously picked up on. The coincidences, the hints, the tiny behaviors that reminded you, always, of someone else. 

You pull yourself out of his grip, and you don’t know if he expected you because you’re able to make it halfway across the room on shaky legs before he grabs you again. Your legs buckle beneath you at the force of his body against yours and he follows you to the floor, roughly turning you over so you’re laying on your back with him perched above you. 

Heart racing, you reach up and yank his mask off, too quick for him to react. You blink at him, confirming what you’d just figured out. What you’d known, really, this entire time.

“Jed.” 

For a second, his face is blank. Then, he starts to laugh, pressing his weight down on your body when you start to struggle again. 

“I was wondering when you’d figure it out. Was hoping you wouldn’t, really, but.” He shrugged. “Does it make you feel better, or worse, to know that you weren’t actually cheating on me?”

“I never did anything with Ghostf- you.”

“But I know you well enough to know that you wanted to. I felt how you pressed back against me that night when you first noticed me in your room.” He leans down, getting in your face. His eyes are so cold, not at all the eyes of the Jed Olsen you knew. Was that even his name, or was that a lie too? “Did you want Ghostface to hold you down and fuck you? Was Jed not cutting it out for you? You needed the big bad serial killer, didn’t you?” 

He places his gloved hand over your throat, noting how your breath catches. “Of course you did.” His hand moves down, laying over your left breast. He doesn’t move, doesn’t try to actually touch you. It’s only then you notice the rhythm he’s keeping with his other hand, the one that’s still resting on the side of his leg. He’s feeling your heartbeat, though his eyes are locked onto yours. 

“I didn’t. I don’t.” 

“You say that, but-” He peers closer at your eyes. “Your eyes are telling me something else.” He leans back and smugly offers his explanation. “You know that eyes dilate when you’re sexually aroused.”

“I-” You swallow, falling silent. What can you say? Any denial would be a lie. He continues to look down on you, face passive. 

“I don’t want to kill you.” He interrupts your silence. Then he’s quiet. Thoughtful, almost. A glimmer of the Jed you knew coming through in his hesitation. “Not yet, at least.”

“Oh-”

“But I can’t exactly let you go on knowing who I am.”

“...I won’t tell anyone.” He raises an eyebrow, looking like he might burst into laughter again. “Promise.”

What power did you have to promise something when you were the one under him, the memory of the edge of his knife still cold on your cheek? 

“Who would you tell?” He said, causing you to furrow your brow. “You think that Jed Olsen is my real name? I’ve thought through everything before you or anyone else could even try to.”

“But-”

“Why would I let you go, when your death will be so…” he leaned down again, his hips rolling slightly against yours. It’s achingly difficult not to press up against it. “...delicious?”

“I don’t want to die.” 

“None of you do.” He tutted. His hand that had been laying on your breast moves to the hem of your shirt, slowly pulling the fabric up to expose your stomach. You shivered at the feeling of leather on your skin, goosebumps trailing after his fingers as he slid his hand back towards your breasts. 

“Front clasping bra.” He says under his breath, raising his eyebrows at you. “Were you expecting company?”

“No.” You glance down. You could offer an explanation like oh, it’s almost laundry day or I just like this bra, but you stay silent. Watching as he unclasps it.  

Jed- though that isn’t his name, is it?- removes his gloves, tossing them somewhere in your living room. You start to turn your head to see where they landed but he grabs your chin in his hand, forcing you to look at him again. 

“Stay still.” 

It’s then that you notice his knife, back in his hand, and watch, with bated breath, as he drags the tip over the skin between your breasts, not hard enough to even sting. Down, under where your skin creases, back up around the right breast until he lays the blade flat against you. Your chest is rising and falling quickly with your breath, though you try to control it for fear of being nicked by the knife. 

“Are you going to kill me?” 

He hums, tracing the point of the blade around your nipple and watching as it hardens. 

“Tell you what-” He moves the knife to the other breast. “-we can postpone your death.”

“And what do you want instead?” You ask, as if it wasn’t obvious from the way he was dragging his blade across your exposed chest or the obvious erection pressing against you when he rolled his hips. 

“I think you know.” He raised his eyebrows. Was there a choice? And even if you did have a choice where the option wasn’t death, would you choose any differently? 

He pinches your nipple, prompting a shaky acceptance from you. “Fine.” You barely bite back a please before he slides down your body, his hands running down your chest to the hem of your pants. The knife returns to cut off the button (unnecessarily) and he roughly pulls your pants down your legs, his nails scratching your skin. 

He slots himself between your legs, now with only the thin fabric of your underwear and his clothes separating him from you. Even that doesn’t last long, as he takes the side of your underwear and rips through it with the knife before doing the same to the other side, ripping the fabric away from your body. 

Leaning back, he starts to fiddle with the many belts and buckles around his waist. You watch, your legs falling apart slightly. His eyes drop to your core, his tongue darting out to lick his lip at the sight of your wet cunt. 

“For someone who seemed so averse to this, you’re pretty wet.” He comments. Before you can respond, he’s pushing into you, having pulled his cock from the complicated trappings of his outfit. 

You groan at the intrusion, the slight pinch of pain before you adjust as he continues to push into you. He gives you barely a moment to breathe before he pulls out and begins thrusting back into you. 

“Fuck, you’re tight.” He grunts as he fills you, his cock thick in your cunt. You can only whimper in response, rolling your hips to meet his thrusts. 

He pulls your leg up, placing it over his shoulder as he continues to fuck into you, the new angle allowing him to hit deeper inside of you. You curse, throwing your head back. You’re certain that you’ll have a rash on your back and ass from the carpet rubbing against your skin but the bursts of pleasure from his cock and his fingers are enough to distract you from that for the moment. 

“Come on, cum on my cock-” He grunts, his hips rutting down against you, his fingers pressing harder against your clit as he practically bullied your body into orgasming for him. Your back arched, hands flying to pull him down to you. Your fingers dig into the fabric of his cloak, scratching against the leather as he urges you on with whispered praise and degradation. 

With a final thrust of his hips, he finishes inside of you, low curses hissed through his teeth. 

You lay, chest heaving as he pulls out, wincing at the sudden feeling of emptiness. The sweat that covers your skin begins to cool. 

“Remember what I said last time about calling the cops.” 

You don’t respond, only clipping your bra back together and pulling your shirt back down over your chest. After all, what could the police do at this point? There were very few signs of a struggle in your apartment. And, as you found out the next day, Jed had gone out after and killed someone else. At best, the police wouldn’t believe that it had actually been Ghostface in your apartment. At worst, they’d think you were in on it. 

And, when you went into work the next day to find a dark polaroid picture of you, asleep, from a few weeks ago- before you’d even asked Jed to take those pictures of the duck pond- with a red heart scrawled at the bottom, you began to think that maybe the worst assumption wasn’t that far off anymore. 

[heartofbusan]

While we're theorizing about AYS, may I leave this one with you?

THEORY: Before the shoot began, JM and JK had a chat about how they were going to approach it as entertainers. One of the items they agreed upon was that JM would film 'house tours' of wherever they stay the night and JK would film the food insert shots. We see JM film a trour of their camping tiny house, the air b&b in CT and the house in Jeju. The only time he films the food is at the omakase but honestly, what else was he supposed to do there? Lol. JK was very diligent in getting 'dynamic' food coverage everywhere.

They each had their own little responsibility and I'm just so endeared. Who knows if we'll ever find out the answer but I think it's cute.

If anyone isn't following along with @curio-queries AYS production breakdowns, please do so. They are so insightful!

Thank you for this ask 😙 I feel like it's part of a longer conversation about how AYS came to exist, which I'd love to have. We might get some more insight into the 'why and how' of it after all the episodes and behinds have aired. But because theorizing is part and parcel of being ARMY, I say: why wait, let's go!

Early in episode 3, there's this one off-hand comment JK makes to Tae about getting out the 'company card' to pay for their meal in Jeju. It was relatable as most of us have at some point gone to lunch or dinner on 'the boss's dime'. It also served as a reminder that the expenses of this trip are literally billed as 'work' for them. And as they took it upon themselves to embark on this show, task assignment comes with the territory. So yes, it makes sense for them to have agreed as to their part of 'the coverage' during pre-production. The coverage being the type of shots they were willing and able to film themselves. And mind you, them filming parts of it is not only another checkmark on the overall shotlist; a way for production to get close up's of their faces and inserts of their meals, but also a way to emotionally seat the audience inside their experiences. Seeing it all through their eyes. So it was a great production choice as well as a narrative one to have them film with the go-pro's.

I think that's part of why it's so funny to them. They literally arranged a paid vacation for themselves, lmao. That omakase, they needed those shots as receipts to justify that (surely extremely expensive) meal. Do we think Taehyung would have had his meal paid for by Jimin, or could they have written it off as a 'guest star' expense? 🤔

Another thing that filming with the go-pro's does is, literally, hand jikook the reigns of what they're willing to film/show.

A much discussed example is the morning scene inside the CT house. JK wakes up, turns on the camera in the hallway outside Jimin’s door, entering, the scene cutting to the camera inside, etc. There are scores of decisions that took place prior to that scene. The editing of it is doing nothing to make the timeline of events any clearer. But all those cameras would have had to be turned on prior to them 'waking up' in the reality of the show. Parsing all of those choices, including when crew is back inside the house once morning comes, will have to wait for another day (that is , if anyone even cares to know, lol).

The point I'm getting at is that while traveling, JK and JM have more control over what we're being shown than we even realize. As you stated in your blog, ITS did this a lot.

ITS would end right up until the tannies would have had to leave a place. Never showing the travel back, probably because emotionally, you want the audience to stay with the characters inside the happy bubble of the experience, not the slog of traveling home. Especially because there is no longer a story to work towards.

My question to you, do you think they 'woke up' together prior to turning on the cameras and putting on the microphones? Who turns off the cams and mics at night before they actually sleep?

I think you know as well as I do that we shouldn't forget that AYS is a story we're being shown. There is a production that has to takes place in order to make it, and there are two professionals who are working to show us these moments. But more importantly, there are two human beings who are also having 'off-camera' moments who decide what they're willing to include in this show.

Sometimes, the lines get blurred, but the intentionality of this show and the kind of relationship they're inviting us to observe is monumental, in my opinion.

[writella]

hi, sweetie! Hope you’re doing well. I just had the cutest thought that I wanted to share. And maybe if you want to add on to it as a drabble or something please feel free:) if not, then please just enjoy todays shower thoughts lol.

I’m thinking about a friends with benefits! reader and Daryl who find themselves travelling by canoe for whatever reason. And how they might get into some petty argument or even play fight that ends with them flipping the boat and the two of them just stand in the water, soaking wet and staring blankly at eachother with disappointment. Bangs sticking to your both your foreheads as the canoe slowly floats down the river along with all your dignity.

Take care! xoxo

Rocking the Boat

Synopsis: Daryl has been back home for weeks; the first attack against the Sanctuary is complete; Alexandria, the Kingdom, and the Hilltop are on their way to freedom; but nothing is the same as it was, especially not with you and Daryl. Maybe a house boat side quest will break the ice, or really, make some waves.

Details: This is set during the beginning of season 8, it includes violence, smut, a fwb relationship but feelings are involved, mutual pining, a little bit of switch Daryl and reader, and some sweetness because I think it’s just my thing at this point. ♡

A/N + Response: Hello, lovely miss T ♡ what a fun idea!! I love the imagery you set with the canoe tipping over, especially the bangs so cute— it was one of my favorite parts to write here! This is probably a bit unrealistic and much longer than I intended, so I think I might consider this a full one-shot as well as a concept, and… it’s also a bit sad? Just a little until we get to the good stuff, I promise ;) Anyway I hope you like it; let me know what you think!!

Daryl sat on Rick’s porch, his back against the poles, reloading his guns as you sped up the steps, “I think we should go back to the boats. Now.” Your voice was hurried, you had run all the way from your house, but he didn't even look up at you.

“Why would we do somethin’ stupid like that?” His voice was low, and annoyed. You didn’t expect to be greeted kindly, but at least he sounded like anything other than emotionless to you since the first time you saw him again; since the time he escaped the Sanctuary.

“There’s no one there. I saw it before I got back home. There were people with guns sitting outside the first time we saw it, but now there aren't.”

“A couple of guns ain’t gonna help us.”

“There had to have been a reason they were guarding it before.” Your words were urgent and your eyes pleaded for him to look up. “Any amount of guns could make the difference, Daryl. You know that.” You stare at him, waiting for nothing as he doesn’t respond. “Did you and Rick even find anything before you got back?” You cross your arms, “Cause it doesn’t look like it. And I think I just did.”

You had gotten separated from the group after the first attack against the Sanctuary: you ran without thinking, just trying to get away from the army of walkers stampeding the place. Straying off the usual path to Alexandria, you accidentally reencountered a place you and Daryl only saw once before. It was a time before Negan, before the Saviors. But now, remembering their jackets, and their weapons, and how their bikes looked parked at the shore, you realized those were three Savior cabin boats— fairly sized, a bit rusty, they had a shack like feel, but it was big enough to stand and sleep in. Maybe something of use could be in there, and at least it was something to do while you waited for the final attack.

Similar to Rosita and Michonne, you also got hurt by the scavengers— day zero of the war, when Sasha died— but the girls left you here, they didn’t even tell you they were going, you didn’t even see them leave. But you needed to get out too; you needed to help. “I’m going with or without you.” Your anger started bubbling at his indifference, “And I saw you talking to Tara, I know you’re planning something, so if you want to go off with her and complete your idiot side plan-”

“You’re the one with the dumbass plan.”

“- then that’s fine!” You glare at him, his eyes still so evasive, it infuriates you. “My objective is to find more weapons, before the final attack.” You lied, you both knew your objective was to rest before the final attack, “So I’m gonna go do that.”

You begin to walk briskly. You knew he was going to try to stop you. You knew he was going to come with you when he realized, yet again, he couldn’t stop you, or… you hoped he couldn’t… Sometimes you forget how much stronger he is than you. You had a smart mouth and you knew how to get a reaction out of him, or at least you did in the past, but he could pinned you down with one hand, making you completely immobile— it’s happened before. The thought makes you walk faster, heading for the nearest car. You were trying to make a point although you weren’t sure what it was. You were just tired of sitting around, tired of his treatment— mistreatment, actually. You knew he had reason to act curtly, what he went through was unspeakable, but you were still there for him, waiting, but he never came to you. Not even late at night. Not even to simply sleep.

Just as you’re about to reach the car you feel his hand wrap around your arm, you almost let it yank you. Your breath is a heavy mix of fear and excitement as he does so. Maybe you finally got something out of him. Maybe you still have it. Maybe you still have him. “We don’t got time for this,” he hissed. Then his jaw clenched, it almost looked like he was chewing on something, “but you’re forgetting the boat.”

“It’s a canoe.” You were pushing it with the retort, he was coming.

He grunts as he lets go of your arm, it slapping down to your side. You wait for him by the car as he retrieves the canoe and paddles from one of the house garages. You guys had found it a long while ago, never knowing when it would be of use. That time was now.

The ride toward the waterfront was irritable and depressing to say the least. You wanted to be around Daryl, you wanted to stop him from going off plan with Tara, but most importantly, you just wanted to talk to him; finally and for once. You all were on the biggest missions of your life, in the biggest war of your life… who knows where your fates would lie after this, but he has yet to say anything to you that didn’t involve fighting the Saviors, and even with that, he didn’t say much. He wanted to win. He was ready to do it fast. Whatever it took. That was all.

He kept shifting in his seat, short, low grunts coming out of the side of his mouth— he didn’t want to do this right now, but he knew you were just as stubborn as him, especially when it came to him. As dumb as he felt this was, it wasn’t time for another person he cares about to get hurt.

“Stop fuming,” you muttered.

He snapped back, barking your name, “We’re in a war! We could be doin’ better things right now and got me here for what?”

“Maybe so you don’t kill people we need alive right now?” You were talking about Dwight, you did more than just see Daryl talking to Tara.

His following grunt truly said typical. “You always got your nose where it don’t belong.”

You ignore him, “We should follow Rick’s plan.”

He shakes his head, ignoring you this time. He’s tired of talking about this. He’s going to go on the boat, see if there’s weapons, get Tara, and use whatever you two find to complete his own plan at the Sanctuary. This needs to be done.

“At least it’s a little over 5 miles off the out-post the Kingdom took out,” you reason, “that must be why no one is there anymore.”

Still no response. Typical, it’s your turn to think it. You let go of talking to him for now. The rest of the drive was silent as well as when you get to your destination, starting to put the canoe on water.

You look at the three small, now unguarded, boats. Only one bike was by the land and there was blood splattered on the middle house, the biggest one. Maybe the Kingdom took out the guy that was there, but there were no boats or canoes around, no way for someone to get close enough inside.

You two get in, starting to row. “There better be somethin’ good in there,” Daryl huffed. You hoped so too. Uncertainty started filling in with the reality of your awful plan. There really could be nothing in there and you really could have spent your day doing something that mattered to the cause. If these boats held anything important, why wasn’t a Savior there already? But even worse, the realization that you were acting out of desperation just because Daryl had been acting so cold… felt even more terrible.

You knew Daryl was scarred, far more than before and you were trying to be patient. You were going to let him come to you. You knew he needed time, and he was at the Kingdom for a little bit anyway, hiding out from Negan. You couldn’t even talk to him if you wanted to because of that. But now you had been planning that first attack for weeks, you were sleeping in the same place together again, but not in the same room, not touching. And again, you understood why, but then again… you didn’t. It was so hard to gain his trust, for him to open up to you, you thought that was something you gained for keeps; but now he wasn’t even allowing you to have a friendship anymore, let alone this in-between relationship you used to have. It made you upset how much power you realized you let him have over you. You missed him so much, and now you weren’t even sure if he missed you back, or if he had reason to. Maybe it was just a fling after all.

War feels long, but it’s only a short time in truth. Nonetheless, a short time that can define who you are thereafter. This could be him, and maybe it always was. And this could be how you two will always be. Forever.

You decide to break the silence again as you row, your thoughts becoming insufferable: “That’s actually not the right technique,” you stutter, “if- if you’re curious.” You start to row based on what you taught yourself, the canoe going just a bit faster now, “I read it in a book from Deana’s old library.”

“So you read somethin’ in a book and now you think you know everything?” His eyes were annoyed. “Hmph.”

Your voice raises, “Well just because you’re so experienced in the wilderness or whatever doesn’t mean you know everything either.”

“I’m doin’ it fine.” He wasn’t. “You don’t even know how to swim.” You didn’t. “So maybe just be glad you ain’t dying today.”

You repeat yourself, “Still- doesn’t- mean- you know how to do everything… You expect me to think Merle took you canoeing? Of all things?” You cock your head, “Pretty sure he was out finding the next score.” You knew it was a low blow to bring up the dead brother, but you were upset. No talking and now insults? You could be cold too, even colder, even if you didn’t like it.

“Shut up.”

“You shut up!”

Then you screamed. A walker with gills, swimming in the water approached your boat behind Daryl. Your voice made him turn around to see it. You take your paddle to try to stab it in the head, but the walker’s hands are along the canoe rim, coming closer to you, it makes you accidently hit Daryl with your swing. “Oh- Sorry!”

“Fuck!” He yelled.

“I’m sorry!” A realization comes, “Is this the guy?”

“If it was he’s been dead for a while.” Daryl shouts, taking out his gun and you take out your knife. He’s trying to shoot the walker in the head, it’s closer to your side now. But you’re thrashing and water is flying while you try to jab them in the head with your knife. The walker has one of your arms and you’re trying to pry it away with the hand that has the knife. Neither of you have a clear shot at getting the thing, all three of you rocking the canoe far too much.

“Stay still!” He yells at you.

“Im trying!” You shout with the same force, the same annoyance, “He’s not making it easy, Daryl!”

Daryl has a chance to shoot the walker in the stomach, and he takes it, but it does nothing. The walker’s hands on you do not quit. The two of you just keep yelling at each other, riling the walker up. You can hear the biting sounds they’re making near your arm.

He shoots again, but you and the walker are still moving too much and Daryl’s loosing balance. The walker is tipping the canoe with their hands, water splashing inside. The next bullet goes into the wood, making a hole.

Their starving mouth continues to try to bite at you. You pull using all your strength to get their mouth away, trying to use your other hand to slice into their head. You two have never seen a walker like this: they can swim and they’re so strong.

Water now fills the boat from the hole as Daryl moves forward on the canoe, pushing your head, his hand quite literally covering your whole face to shove you out of the way, getting a clear shot at the walker and firing at their head. He clicks twice: Boom. Boom. Guts and water fly everywhere.

The splashing of the water and the firing of his gun overwhelms all your senses. The weight of Daryl is on your side now, neither of you have balance; both your weights pull the canoe over the edge as it flips over entirely with you under it.

You scream, but your voice is muffled. You thrash around, trying to use what little experience you have. You come above water for a few seconds, wailing, and Daryl grabs you.

“Hey- Hey- Hey!” his words snap, rough like barks until he gets you to look at him, gripping your face so it’s forward. “It’s okay,” he’s breathing almost as heavy as you are. His voice becomes even now, “It’s okay.” You realize he has you in his arms— it really was okay.

Feeling he might make a comment about you almost drowning, you force yourself to speak through water filled lungs, “Don’t. Say it.”

So he didn’t. He just holds you tight, you even feel his thumbs squeezing into you at the waist now, and through half lidded eyes, you see his arms tense, working hard to make sure you never fall, but it’s at a half arm's length, his elbows bent. You blink rapidly, your wet eyelashes still flapping shut until you’re able to open them better. You can see Daryl more clearly now.

You try to swipe some of the hair out of your face. The baby hairs at the crown of your forehead stayed slick in place while some parts of your hair started to lightly form your wave or curl pattern, but in all, you were absolutely drenched.

Your hands now hold onto his forearms just as tight as his below. It was one of those rare moments where you remember just how blue his eyes are. Their narrow shape and the way his hair lays always hides them away. But the sun was behind you, casting its light directly on him and his hair was now slick to his head as well: only some of it resting on his forehead.

If someone were to describe Daryl’s looks, they would probably say something typical like dark and rugged. They don’t see what you see. God, you forgot how uniquely handsome he was.

His hair changed colors in the light, it wasn’t as dark brown anymore, flecks of it were a more golden brown in the sun. And you loved the mole that was just above his lip and facial hair. Almost no one else in the group had something like that. And now, there was the way his button down stuck onto his skin. The color was dark enough that it wasn’t see-through, but you saw every indent, every line of his bicep and tricep as you looked at his arms, trying to avoid his face, trying to avoid his chest or anywhere lower.

On the other hand, Daryl was trying even harder to avoid looking at your soaked body, failing even worse. His eyes couldn’t help but linger on how your chest huffed as you tried to catch your breath. Your collarbones are now exposed as your shirt slides down just a bit further, the light color almost see through because of the water, and your bra didn’t help much either. It was one of those without the padding, it was the only one that fit— your supplies, food and wearable, clean clothing, were running dangerously low at home. The thin material of both top garments showed how your nipples perked up now. And the way he had to grasp tightly on the smalls of your waist, feeling your stomach inhale and exhale as you calmed yourself down didn’t help either. It was like he felt your hold body moving… similar to a way he used to feel it.

It all makes him realize now how he hasn’t gotten the courage to look at you directly in the longest. God, he forgot how pretty you are. How lovely it was to hold you. Even if it was to escape death.

Your eyes are so big as you hold on tightly to his arms, you’re still shaken up. Trying to paddle your feet like you’ve seen on tv and in videos in the past. It’s adorable.

He didn’t dare look any longer, but part of him wondered if you were looking at him the same way. And you were. Specifically, the way you could see every line and ripple of his abdomen with his button up now glued to his body. As you let your eyes trail just a bit more form his arms, you noticed how magnified his chest looked, how his nipples were just as pert as yours.

It all made you feel something warm down below and it made something inside him twitch, but this wasn’t the time. He had been feeling so many things since he returned that he didn’t even know which ones to act upon first, so he reverted back to saying nothing, or at least nothing that had to do with how he really felt, how he really felt about you that is.

In the end, “You better hope I can make one of those shits run or we’re fucked,” was all he decided to say.

He moves your hands onto the back sides of his waist and he starts to swim. Your legs are off to the sides and he tells you to kick as he is and hold on tight as he swims you both to the middle boathouse, the one with the blood.

You hold onto the ledge as you finally arrive, allowing Daryl to go in first, checking for walkers at each boat. He does the side ones first. No one is there. Finally, he goes to the middle house: out of all of them, it’s the biggest wreck. The place is filled with pictures, Polaroids, scattered all over the place. It’s of the Saviors. And there’s all kinds of guns scattered on the floor, but he can’t help but to stare at the faces. He knew some of those faces.

You call his name, but he doesn’t respond. “What was in the other two?” You yell for him again, but nothing. You decide to go in the middle one as well, your eyes are amazed by the mess of guns on the floor. There were even ones still hooked up to the wall. There were knives and daggers too. Even glass cases with various bullets, you wondered what they did. Was this the emergency weapons stash? Had you reached it before a Savior could? “Why aren’t you picking this stuff up?” You look up at him impatiently, shaking your head and huffing, you’ll do it yourself you guess.

Daryl continues to look around, picking up a frame. The only framed picture in the boat. It was cracked on the ground: A Polaroid of Negan.

He takes the picture out of the broken glass to look at it closer. As if this wasn’t already the attitude of much of the Saviors, whoever lived and protected this place must have worshiped him. Negan stood proudly in it, his bat on the side of his shoulders, a big rifle strapped around his back on the other. His hair and beard was all black, and that notorious, all encompassing grin plastered his face from ear to ear. Daryl turned the picture over: the words, ‘Negan — The First Savior. My Savior,’ was written on the back.

It fired him up. It made him think of the dark, of that cell, of the food that probably wasn’t even food, when he was kicked and jumped by those Saviors in the parking lot, and that damn song— the saccharine melody would live on in his brain like a siren. There would never be silence inside him again. In fact, there never was. It was only louder now. So loud and so angry he feels it in his throat, traveling to his tongue, beneath his eyes, as he can no longer keep it in anymore; but he tries, and tries, and tries, quietly holding everything in while you keep collecting weapons, putting them in bags you find. The picture crumples in his closing hand, his fist turning red as he grips tightly, ruining the shining paper.

He slides down against the boat wall, sitting on the ground biting his tongue, stopping the feelings until you're done; until you two can leave and he can do what he needs to do. It’ll be without you, without Rick, without anyone. This needs to be done. He’ll do it.

“Daryl,” you call out, not facing him, collecting the bags. “I think I counted 32, but it could be 40… I think there’s smaller ones by the wheel and I didn’t even get the swords yet. If there's about the same number on the other two, there could be maybe over 100 new weapons,” you gasp with disbelief. “Were the other two like this?“

You we’re relieved, you knew it was a dumb plan, but you came out of it with a win; it was worth it. “Daryl, come on-” you turn to him now, “oh.”

You almost couldn’t see his eyes with how much more narrow he made them, they were practically closed and his face was down. You wondered if this was the moment you would first see him cry: his lip quivered, his face was as red as his fists, and he wouldn’t look in your direction, his head was basically to the wall as you started to walk to him.

Your movements are slow as you kneel down to the corner in which he sat. You place fingers along his jaw until your whole hand wraps around the area. Your strokes are gentle, feeling the bristles of his beard on your palm. He had been so angry since he returned, hell bent on war and death, but you remembered… he must have also been so sad, so depressed too. Poor boy, you thought. Poor boy, you forgot; in some ways, he still was just a boy.

You turn his cheek to face you, but his eyes don’t dare meet yours as a few tears start rolling out. Your own emerge too. It’s heartbreaking to see him like this.

You put your forehead to his, your nose rubbing against his own, “I’m so sorry,” you whisper.

You come even closer. Your lips lightly touch his, you’re tentative at first, not knowing if it was right, but then you feel his brush against yours just as light. You decide to move in, your lips parting his own as you kiss him.

Your tongue goes into his mouth, your hand raising his chin, you’re so delicate. He holds your shoulder, you lean into his bent body and your other hand slides against his chest. You’re both still wet and cold, but his heart beats warmly.

His head leans up against the wall as you push yourself further onto his lips. You hold his shoulders and he allows you to slide him down.

You look up at him, your hands on his shirt. This is not how you expected today to go. “Is this okay?” You ask softly. His nod is just as soft, you almost don’t see it, but his hands are lightly on top of your own as you unbutton his shirt, he lets you. It’s okay.

He’s unbuckling his belt now, pushing his pants down and your top goes over your head. He starts to unbutton your own jeans. It’s quiet except for your breaths, and the clinking of belts, and the undoing of zippers.

You pull him out a little more from the corner so you can straddle him. You start grinding your hips down into him and he pushes into your clit with his finger, circling it. The bit of warmness you felt below before is now almost pooling out instantly from just the littlest touches. Your back arches, you haven’t felt him in so, so long. You gasp and it accidentally turns into a moan. You’re so needy for it, but you remember: you want to help him.

Your hands move down to his stomach, your lips kiss his neck as your hands travels up to his chest and then back down, you start kissing him everywhere there as you do so, breathing him in, it makes him fidgety, little gruff sounds irruption from his throat, he’s trying to keep it in. Then you got even lower: you kiss down his cock until you’re at the tip. You lick at the pre-cum there. You put just a little bit of him inside your mouth, sucking, stroking the rest of it. His exhale comes out as a shaky gasp, he whimpers slightly.

Finally, you move back up and line yourself up with him, sinking down slowly as you look him in the eyes. You can’t help it, you start to ride him immediately thereafter. The stretch feels so good and so big and full as if you’ve never felt him before. Your moan is light and airy, you missed him. And he groans, “-ugh, fuck” and moans, “uh- mm- argh,” right after you do so. He missed you. You know that now, it makes you smile.

You lean up against him slightly. His mouth parted and you speak into it, your breast brushing against him as you rolled onto him, your stomached touching a bit. “I’ve got you,” you pant into his mouth, he’s panting too, “always.”

He holds onto your hips as you go faster, you’re holding onto his shoulders. “Does it feel good?” You kiss him right after you ask, his tongue going to the top of your mouth, sliding in wet and deliciously, it’s everything you’ve waited for. He hums into you as a response. You feel his dick twitch as your pussy grips on him tighter.

You feel like you both could be close until he starts kissing you more fiercely. His tongue only slipping in slightly as he pecks your lips, he bites down slightly, then kissing you deeply again. Then he turns you over. You’re under him now. His hands go right by your ears, flat on the ground and he thrusts into you. Hard. It almost hurts, you can’t lie. He’s grunting, short and quick, but his rasp, and his hair flying as he quickens the pace, and the fact that pain is slowly turning into pleasure… you’re fine with it. If this is what he needs, you’re fine with it.

His next grunt is almost a yell, it’s like a battle cry. He’s angry and you know it. You hold onto his flex arms tenderly, caressing him, silently telling him you’re there, but you allow him to continue.

His movements are faster now. More irate. His body comes closer to yours, but his movements do not stop their force. His thrusts feels like poundings, you feel like the floor is moving, maybe the boat is rocking, the bags jump with it.

He looks at your screwed shut eyes as one of his hands comes to touch your chest. Trailing your breast, then to the bottom of your stomach, staying there, pressing down, feeling himself inside of you has he shoves himself up and in, he’s deep, so deep. “Mmm,” You’re whining now, “-uuh.” It makes his eyes lighten, he’s humming, low and gruff and continuous, stuttering into you, eyes open waiting to see you come so then he can. It’s right there for him, but he wants to see you, he needs it.

Your moan mixes into a whine, “Daryl please,” you beg, “Daryl please- it’s- it’s too much, it hurts,” it makes him go even faster, and he can’t help himself as he comes in you first, sighing as he does so, but it’s exactly what you need to come undone yourself.

You grab the back of his neck, holding it close to you as you squeeze your arms around him and he does the same to your waist.

You both try to calm your breaths, “Never leave me again,” you say into his ear, breathing roughly. “Please.”

“Never.” He looks at you right in the eye when repeats it, “Never.” He wipes the tears from your face as you both nod, affirming a new promise to each other. “We’ll win. Together.”

After laying for a few moments, just looking at each other, he goes to the bathroom to find a washcloth, warming it with water, helping you clean up. He takes your hand so you can start doing it yourself and he kisses your forehead before he starts to get dressed. “I’ll be back.”

Soon enough, you hear the engine in the front start to rev up. He got it to work.

“You can drive a boat?”

“Gonna learn.” He turns to you, pulling you in front resting your hands on the wheel while he stands behind, his arms over your own. “We both are.”

[littlejazzy]

Do you have good recommendations for AgeRe stories? Something really cute and fluffy? (I'm a lonely regressor and I love reading stories about really sweet caregivers.)

I do!! I adore reading agere fics, so here are some recs! I hope you enjoy!!! 💖

Gen:

Decontamination by SailorChibi - Marvel - Baby!Tony and CG!Steve - After a battle, Steve takes care of his baby - (This one is a Classification!AU/Littles are Known!AU... like, one of the very first ones. Very good and fluffy. If you ever read thorough their fics, (tagged NSAP bc agere straight up did not exist as a community yet) you'll start spotting alot of things that other people were/are inspired from.)

Picnic by SailorChibi - Marvel - Baby!Tony, CG!Steve, Middle!Bucky, Toddler!Clint, CG!Coulson, Kiddo!Scott, CG!Sam W., Kiddo!Peter P., CG!Wade, Kid!Wanda, and CG!Vision - All the Avengers have a nice picnic - (classification!au, but a different verse than the previous fic jsyk. this one is suuuuper fluffy and cute and fun <3)

Less than Five by SailorChibi - Daniel Craig's James Bond - Little!Q and CG!Bond - Q regresses smaller than usual; his daddy makes sure he's taken care of - (classification!AU, first of a series. first two fics are pretty fluffy, but the third has some angst, which makes the fluff even sweeter, in my opinion)

coffee makers and bumblebees by orchidsncrake - Daredevil - Little!Matt and CG!Foggy - Matt becomes overstimulated and after an altercation with the office's coffee maker, Foggy is there to make everything better

Small surprises by undergroundrice - Daredevil - Little!Matt and CG!Foggy - Foggy stumbles onto Matt regressing, and together they figure it out

A Second Shot by mylittlestories - MCU - Little!Natasha, Little!Clint, and CG!Coulson - Natasha didn't have much of a childhood. When she sees that having a second one is possible, she wants; Coulson and Clint are happy to make her family :) - (This one is unfinished, but what's there is just so nice I have to include it!!)

Give your Dreams the Wings to Fly by Honey_Dewey - FNAF Movie - Little!Matt and CG!Ness - Mike gets sick at work, but his boyfriend is there to make everything okay

the road to hope and adventures into the unknown (target) by romansprince - Barbie (2023) - Little!Ken, then CG!Barbie and CG!Gloria - Ken has become human... except he's never had a childhood. Sometimes he feels Fuzzy, but that's something he thinks he can keep secret. As he turns out, he can't, but it works out anyway - (Two separate fics that take place in the same universe/series. The first one/set-up is a little angsty, but the second is more fluffy)

Movie Night by mcschnuggles - Heathers - Little!JD and CG!Veronica - JD unexpectedly drops into headspace during a movie night with the rest of the teenagers; Veronica helps him through it - (Modern!AU, Everyone Lives!AU, this one is kinda angsty, but like, it's canon appropriate, lol - also!!! make sure that you check out the author's other works!!!!! lots of agere fics for a large variety of fandoms!!)

Toffee Ticking Time Bomb by GayCheerios - Star Wars - Little!Anakin and CG!Obi-Wan - Obi-Wan has to find his padawan's stuffie before the inevitable temper tantrum ensues - (classification!AU, part of a very nice and good series that, if you enjoy this fic, you should also check out)

Baby's First Bath by CyberToddler - Beetlejuice: The Musical - Toddler!Beetlejuice and CG!Maitlands - The Maitlands give Beetlejuice his very first bath - ( 👉👈 I wrote this one 😖)

Evolution by Cgetbrmj - The Last of Us (TV) - Little!Ellie and CG!Joel - Series that follows each episode of the show, and explores how these characters stumble upon age regression as a coping mechanism and how much they both realize they enjoy it. - (Slowburn agere, as it explores how it develops naturally between both characters. This one DOES contain some angst as it relates to the show, but overall is as fluffy as its setting allows)

Reader-Inserts:

The Doctor's Office by agerefandom (tazia101) - Twilight - Little!Reader and CG!Carlisle - Reader goes to their first check-up in their new town and unexpectedly regresses; thankfully, their doctor is more than understanding - (I can not emphasize enough how much I love this one. Hits all the right buttons, I'm so happy/thankful I found it before I had to establish care w/ a new doctor, it's just- so good)

Sugary Sweet by agerefandom (tazia101) - Twilight - Baby!Reader and CG!Alice and Jasper - A comfy, happy morning with your vampire caregivers - (be sure to check out the writer for more fandoms!! lots of agere fics, including gen and reader!insert!)

little life at the mansion by myworldoffanfiction - X-Men - Little!Reader and CG!X-Men (the main gang lol) - First chapter is a busy yet comfy morning while living at Xavier's Mansion. Second chapter is a fun Summer evening - (this one is sooooo sweet 😭)

Play Pretend by Vinnies_Comfort_Corner - Scream (1996) - Kiddo!Reader, Flip!Stu, and CG!Billy - You and Stu play pretend while waiting for Billy to come home - (if you enjoy this one, make sure you check out their other regression fics!!! there's even one with a petreg puppy!reader!! and other horror media!!)

Red Stained Fingers by CyberToddler - Scream (1996) - Little!Reader, CG!Stu, and CG!Billy - Unorthodox sensory play with diy-ed fake blood, lol - (I also wrote this one 😅 it's sugary sweet, I promise, lol)

[vidavalor]

"You love trains": Crowley & Aziraphale inspired 'North by Northwest'

Putting my film studies background to good use here with some film history & historical context under the cut.

The "what does the J stand for?" exchange in The Blitz, Part 1 and the inability for the audience to initially understand what Aziraphale is mouthing in The Blitz, Part 2 are both references to Hitchcock's classic spy thriller, 'North by Northwest'. I didn't link the clip that goes along with The Blitz, Part 2 in case some of you have never seen this film because it would ruin your experience of it. (Definitely watch it if you have not as it's a masterpiece.) Since The Blitz scenes are taking place in 1941 and 'North by Northwest' was released 18 years later in 1959, Crowley and Aziraphale aren't referencing the film in the dialogue but, instead, could be presumed to be the source *of* the dialogue in the film... just like how Shakespeare lifted Crowley's love poetry for 'Antony & Cleopatra'... and the 'North by Northwest'-referencing part of The Blitz, Part 1 *is referencing* the 'Antony and Cleopatra' reference because it's the reveal of Crowley's first name. But... it gets even better...

The writer of 'North by Northwest' was legendary Hollywood screenwriter Ernest Lehman, whom we're now presuming to have been a friend of probably at least Aziraphale's. Lehman wrote a dozen or so classic films and, outside of 'North by Northwest', is most famous for writing adaptations of several famous musicals, including the adapted screenplay for... 'The Sound of Music.' But, no, somehow, we aren't done yet with how amazing this is lol.

The thing that makes this all even funnier is that 'North by Northwest' is responsible for probably the most famous train metaphor in cinema. I'll spoil just this bit as it won't really ruin the overall movie for you if you haven't seen it but don't go any further than here if you don't want to be spoiled at all. If you've already seen it, you totally know what I mean. *laughs*

In 1959, when this film was released, you still couldn't really show sex on screen in a mainstream film. If you showed two people in a bedroom at all, they were cisgender, heterosexual and married and they slept in two separate beds. The level of sex happening in the above clip was *wild* for the era and the fact that it was put into the film the way it is-- that an unmarried woman picks up a hot guy on a train and they sleep together and she's still the heroine of the film and all of that-- was really nothing short of feminist revolution in a film in this era.

The film has a famous "love scene" of sorts that follows not long after the one I linked above, where the two of them are in a cabin on the train and starting to get it on but constraints of cinema coding at the time limited how far it could go. So, to imply that the main characters do, in fact, sleep together, the film famously cuts away to a shot of the train entering a tunnel-- making the train itself symbolic of sex. Because of how famous the film overall--and this scene in particular--became, it became a thing to use trains euphemistically for sex in other cinematic works following it. There is literally no way that Crowley and Aziraphale have not seen this movie so while Aziraphale was happy to make The Bentley into a sexual metaphor while angling for the car keys, Crowley is half-heartedly griping in flirty response by continually referencing trains, another sexual mode of transportation-- the one that that they inspired lol. Hence Aziraphale's bemused little lololol-but-won't-give-him-the-satisfaction-of-seeing-my-amusement face here:

Sunglassed!Cary Grant is Crowley and the old movie chemistry and the semi-coded flirty banter and someone please, please write a fic where Aziraphale says "I don't particularly like the book I've started"-- I will pay you lol.

[kinda-indecisive]

I just don't understand why people who already hated the original story of Hades and Persephone even bothered reading a retelling of it in the first place...

Of course there is an age gap...

Of course the main characters are bougie, rich, and disconnected from the problems of piddly little mortals...

Of course Hades is a dry, grumpy, depressed, jerk before meeting Persephone...

Of course Persephone has anger issues and of course Hades is going to let her do as she damn well pleases in the realm he made her the queen of...

All of the gods in the original myths were flawed and, ironically, extremely human. To insist the characters in the retelling be anything otherwise is bizarre.

And yeah, some of the other Deities got screwed over in this one. But was there not supposed to be any antagonists?? And for me, in a society that tends to turn Zeus into the Christian idea of God (but with a lightning bolt!) and Hades into the Christian idea of the Devil, I was happy to see different Deities in a different light.

Lore Olympus was originally intended to be a Super Soapy Soap Opera, and that was perfectly okay. The Gods are perfect fodder for that kind of story. And I still think Rachel was goaded into turning it into a think piece. And then when the think piece wasn't as deep as people wanted, they turned into an angry hoard on tumblr, reddit, etc., completely swarming the story's tags with negativity (there is a difference between genuine criticism and simply being nitpicky).

I genuinely beg y'all to create your own retelling. Or write a fanfic that fixes everything you don't like! One, because it's not as easy as you think to write and draw a story on a deadline all while keeping everyone happy. And two because, hey, I'm excited for any content about the Greek Gods! If you think you can do better, give it a shot! And if it's good, I'll happily admit it. I might even become your number-one fan lol

I dunno. I'm just extremely sad that I couldn't even fully enjoy the ending of a series that really meant a lot to me because I knew before it even came that people were going to tear it to pieces...

And I don't want to block the "lore olympus criticism" tags because I'm not anti-criticism and some people have genuine points; there is a list of things I wish were included in the story and there are things that I didn't particularly love.

But dang... some of y'all are vicious. It kinda feels like y'all enjoy making fans of the series feel like idiots...

A bunch of Anton Ego's from Ratatouille lol

[lil-spider]

So Damn Pretty

Chapter 10

Part 9 : Part 11

Pairing: Johnny Slaughter X Female Reader

Summary: Johnny is sex starved and you’re very attractive, so attractive that he doesn’t want to kill you. Instead he finds ways to keep you around longer.

Note: The story is coming closer to completion but that’s okey cause I’m gonna be in this fandom forever even if it has died a little lol. I’ve got plenty of Johnny fics planned :3. This chapter is for those who have been so patient! Love you all😘

Warning: This is 18+ and please do not read if your sensitive to heavy descriptions of non/con and violence. Including bondage, blood, gore, assault, objectification and unsafe sex. For those who don’t mind, I hope you enjoy.

I stare vacantly at the couple of eggs on my plate, not feeling hungry for them. I sink further into my seat and take a glance over at Johnny. Its just him and me sitting at the dining table; the rest of the family have already finished up their breakfast, but it seems he has an appetite this morning, digging in his second plate of crispy bacon. I look back at the two eggs; things in pairs have been bothering me lately. It seems my mind still can't get over those two girls. I thought I would be over it; at the time, it didn’t bother me, but the guilt comes in waves. Crashing heavily against my consciousness. I try to keep it down, not letting it depress me. I've gained trust from the family, and I don’t want to ruin it with my emotions. 

 

With their trust comes more leniency. So much so that Drayton brings me along to the gas station, helping him out with whatever he tasks me with. 

 

A surprising amount of locals come by. They didn’t question me; they just went about their own business. I didn't know how to go about it. I guess no one back home really cares that I'm missing. Even though I'm somewhat content with my current situation, I can't help but feel sad. No one bothered at all to look for me. I know I didn't have much family, but Nate and Jessica sure did; both came from big families. There should be people searching for them. 

 

I quickly moved on from those thoughts, especially now that it's too late to go back. It's easier to just focus on other things. Even if there isn't much to focus on,.

 

At least today I can spend the rest of my time with Johnny out in the field. I love keeping him company while he works on the cars, and sometimes I help out by passing him tools or handing him a rag.

I glance over at him again while I smoosh around my runny eggs with my fork. He shoots me a small grin. I was going to smile softly back at him until a sudden shot of nausea hit me. Instead, I must have given him an ugly face because he looked at me with a raised brow. 

 

Salvia starts poring up into my mouth, and with panic, I sit up, making the chair scratch on the floor, and bolt past Johnny to the front door, slamming it open. No longer able to hold it down, I grip the veranda's handrails tightly, lean over, and vomit my breakfast onto the poor bushes below.

 

"Ya' alright, darlin'?" Johnny asks as he walks up behind me, confused. He sees what is happening and places a large hand on my back and rubs it in soft circles while I spew out misery. Thinking I was finished, I turned around to face him, smiling wearily, but a second punch of nausea came flying in, and I turned back to vomit in the bushes again.

 

“I’ll go get Sissy.” He says this, grimacing at the sight of me puking, unsure of what to do.

 

He leaves, and in a quick minute, a concerned Sissy comes with a damp hand towel, and she guides me to take a seat on the white bench, dabbing my forehead while I try not to throw up straight bile.

 

"Oh, pumpkin, this is not good," Sissy worries, still wiping my face. Johnny comes back outside, also looking concerned. 

 

“Take her to the living room, Johnny; she needs to lay down.” Sissy tells him, feeling my forehead and checking for my temperature. I’m not sure if I’m sick; I don’t feel hot. 

 

Johnny, grumbling at being told what to do, still picks me up bridal style, carrying me effortlessly to the living room, and lays me down gently on the cowhide-covered couch.

 

“What’s wrong with her?” Johnny asks, turning to Sissy, wanting an answer to my sudden sickness. She places an old, rusty bucket down next to me, just in case I get sick again. 

 

"Well, she ain’t burnin' up. Maybe it’s something she ate.” She’s replies are also confused about my sudden sickness. 

 

I lay there on the couch, trying to keep whatever wants to come up down while Sissy and Johnny keep me company for a bit. It’s comforting to see how much they seem to care for me. However, after under an hour of resting and sipping on some water, I feel much better.

 

“I'm feeling better.” I said this to both of them, who looked surprised and relieved about my comeback.

 

“Somethin' must've upset ya' then.” She reasons. With that little incident over with, the rest of the day goes by as normal without any sign of sickness. It must have been something I ate. 

 

That’s what I believed until the very next morning, and then the next thing happened on the third day. Sissy keeps my hair away from my face while rubbing my back. 

 

It's another morning, and I'm back outside vomiting; it seems to be my usual puke spot outside on the veranda. 

 

 I know I've made everyone else concerned now. I can hear Nubbins questioning Johnny about why I'm throwing up so much. But he wouldn't get a solid answer from him, as he is just as clueless about my ongoing vomiting. I don’t understand either; at first, I thought I was dying, but what Sissy came up with seemed worse than dying. Her sweet voice contradicts the heavy words coming out of her mouth. I feel like I've been strapped to an anchor, and it's dragging me down, deep below. 

 

 “I think you may be pregnant, sugar; you ain’t got no fever, and sure, dang, know Johnny hasn’t been innocent with you." She explains smoothing my messy hair. 

 

Now I feel like I’m really drowning. Oh, my good I’m pregnant, oh fucking hell. It explains everything: the weight gain, my emotions playing up, and of course the morning sickness. My legs start to wobble. Holy shit, I’m pregnant with Johnny’s baby. 

Sissy notices my shaky form and decides to help me back inside. Holding my arms steady, she shuts the door behind us with her foot while leading me to the sofa. As I sit, she’s skipped off to grab a glass of lemonade while I try to calm down. Just as quickly as she left, she came back with a glass of delicious cold lemonade. Sissy places the drink in my shaky hands as I take a sip. Its sweet yet bitter flavour soothes me. 

 

“When I was in California, some of her sisters from the ranch always threw up every morning when they were pregnant. It's called morning sickness, and it's always a telltale sign that you're going to have a baby.” She explains joyfully, sitting down right next to me and giving me an excited hug. 

 

She then claps her hands together cheerfully. "Oh, how joyous a little baby!" She throws her thin arms around me again in another big hug while I sit frozen, completely gobsmacked by the revelation that I'm pregnant. I guess I must have forgotten how babies were made while I’ve been here; Johnny and I have been going at it enough. There is no denying that.

 

I placed my lemonade down on the coffee table and placed a hand over my belly. Johnny's baby is growing inside me and will later give birth to his baby. 

Sissy stands back up, going over to a sleeping grandpa. I didn't realise he was there. But Sissy, with all her excitement, accidentally woke him up, to which she apologised by telling him about the new member of the family and how he’s going to be a grandpa again. How many generations old is this baby going to make grandpa? I wonder.

Grandpa Sawyer just let out these wistful groans in reply. Sissy explains that he’s excited for a new grandchild. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to understand him. 

Then Johnny comes stomping in, shirtless and sweaty from being outside in the Texas heat. "What’s all the squealing you’re making? I can hear it from outside." He asks, annoyed. 

I would've hoped Sissy would keep my pregnancy to herself until I was ready to tell her, but instead she just blatantly spills out to him that I'm pregnant. 

“Bout’ time.” He says plainly, I gap at his laid-back attitude on this situation. He turns to my surprised face, and he smirks. He inches closer, bending down so his face is in front of mine. 

“I told ya I wanted to be a dad, didn’t I? It’s why I've been working so hard on you.” His smirk widens as my face flushes red in embarrassment. Have I been baby trapped?

The day goes by like usual, even though I'm an emotional, vomiting mess. Now during dinner, and for some odd reason, I never get sick eating supper. The smell of any other food makes me queasy, except cooked meat. My mouth starts to drool when I smell it being cooked. Just barely being able to keep anything else down has made me famished, and tonight, Drayton's chilli has never tasted better. Going in for seconds and now thirds.

“I should've made extra batches just for the way you eat, girl.” Drayton commented, slightly impressed with how much I can put down. 

“It’s just so good.” I moan out with a mouthful of chilli.

“It's better than good; it's the best chilli in the whole damn county.” Cook proudly states, sitting up a bit straighter.

“Oh god, enough of the chilli talk.” Johnny groans out, already frustrated with the conversation.

“Y-yeah enough!” Nubbins joins in, trying to entice a fight. 

"Oh, shut it; look at the girl; she loves it.” He points over to me, still stuffing my face with utter pleasure. 

“No more of this arguing! Y/N is in a delicate situation, and I want none of ya' messing that up!” Sissy puts her bit in, not wanting to be left out of the conversation. Ironically, this is her way of enticing an argument.

“What delicate situation, girl? She's just hungry.” Drayton asks, confused by Sissy’s words. 

“She’s pregnant, and ya' can't do anything about' it.” Sissy again spills the beans on my pregnancy, but now to the rest of the family. 

I look over at Johnny puasing my eating to see his reaction to Sissy not being able to keep anything to herself. “They'll find out sooner or later.” He just sinks further back into the chair, crossing his muscular arms under his chest, waiting for the onslaught of words from Drayton. 

Bubba, who is next to me, is the first to react. He places his large hand on top of his head and pats it, like if I were a puppy. He groans gleefully, I guess, letting me know that he is happy with the new addition. He can be a real gentle giant when there isn't anyone to murder. 

Cook has gone absolutely red as a tomato, while nubbins start snickering. "Oooh, J-Johnny, I-I-is in trouble.” It seems the night has gone his way for wanting drama.

"God, Damnit, boy, I knew this would happen. You can’t control yourself, can you? Always chasing tail, and now a baby.” Drayton stood up at the start of his rant but now has sat down, looking almost deafted.

“Your mother will go ballistic once she finds out.” Drayton points his finger at Johnny, warning him.

“Shut it, old man! You got nothing to worry about; it’s bout time; we’re all getting old, and we gotta keep the family going.” He counters Drayton's words. 

It looked like Nubbins wanted to say more, but with Johnny quickly standing up and leaving, it was pointless. 

Dinner practically finished up after that fight, and I just sat there silently, not sure what to do. I was supposed to help clean up, but I sneakily decided to go find Johnny. Anyway, with all the commotion still going on with Nubbins and Sissy messing with Drayton, it’s best I stay away. 

I check the front veranda; Johnny has a few smoke spots he always goes to: the front, the back garden, and his shed. But luckily, my first guess was right, as I found him sitting on the outdoor bench. While walking to him, he quickly puts on his smoke, squishing it under his boot. “Shouldn’t smoke around you anymore.” He grins at me, and just as I take a seat, he places his warm hand on my stomach. 

“The second I saw you, I knew you were the perfect girl to have my kid. So fucking pretty, I'm going to look after the both of you, I promise.” 

His words send tingles all throughout your body; it’s electrifying. You place your hand over his, smiling back at him.

“Soon you’re going to get real big, darlin’; ya tits are going to get nice and fat too.” He teases with humour, but a familiar, hungry look starts building in his eyes. 

As he inches closer to me, his large hand moves away from mine and glides up, grabbing a breast. He squeezes it firmly before starting to massage it. His warm breath is on my neck as he kisses right below my jaw. Wetness begins to pool in my panties. 

“Run up the stairs to your room and undress before I take you right here.” As much as I wanted to tease him, it’s better to listen, or he really would take me here, in any position too. He gets very creative when he's horny. 

I get up and leave, going to my room just as instructed. I closed the door behind me and set myself on the bed to undress. I wore a blue sundress today, so I just unzipped the side and let it slip right off. Leaving me in my white panties. Even though it didn’t take me long to undress, it wasn't quick enough for Johnny. He was already here, striding in and locking the door behind him, already semi-undressed too.

“Come on, darlin', only your panties left to go; take em off for me.” I happily obliged, hooking my fingers into the side, purposefully bending over, and sliding them down. 

I look back to see the bulge in his jeans while he takes them off. Now he is just as naked as me. I will never get tired of looking at his body. His large muscles, pecs, sprinkled on chest hair leading down to his happy trail—the sight of his scars always makes me throb. Fuck, he is gorgeous.

With my ogling, I fail to notice him getting closer. Wrapping his large arms around me, he whispers into my ear, “I want you to take a seat on my face while keeping your mouth busy with my cock.” He groans before going to lay down on the bed. This is a new position, and with only a little hesation, I gingerly climb over him, placing my legs on the side of his head. Before I sink down, he grabs my hips roughly, bringing my swollen heat to his mouth. 

I gasp as his tongue slides back and forth over my clit. I lean further down, grinding my wetness along his mouth needing more. His impressive cock, comes into view, precum leaking out; it’s red and aching to be sucked. 

I lick his tip timidly before taking his whole length, making a sloppy mess while focusing on his head, I hear him groan as I go deeper. His grunting sends small, delightful vibrations along my clit.

My muffled moans fill the room as he holds me in place, my aching pussy being devoured while I simultaneously suck off Johnny. I hallow out my cheeks, pinch my lips, and let my tongue slide along his shaft. Working extra hard to get him to finish first. 

It's difficult; he knows exactly how to get me off. He knows where I'm most sensitive and what feels best. My plans to make him cum first are starting to falter; I'm struggling to even keep myself steady. I put my tired arms on top of his muscular thighs, giving them a rest. I take a deep breath and continue to encompass his cock, swirling my tongue along the base. I’m a little sloppy with the rhythm now, but I don’t think he cares. 

I can feel my orgasm building as Johnny doesn’t even stop for air, still sucking and licking my clit with undying hunger. His grip on my hips still remains strong, making me unable to pull away. 

My limbs are starting to become sore. Needing him to finish, I start sucking his cock faster, my salvia drenching him, making it easier for it to slide along my tongue. My moans turn to whines as my own orgasm is right on the edge. 

I feel him twitch in my mouth while his groans continue from below. "Fuck, I’m gonna cum." I choked out, stopping to take a deep breath. 

Johnny slides his hands along my thighs as his tongue stays strong, massaging my clit, while keeping a steady pace.

I take his throbbing length back into my mouth right before my orgasm hits. The force of it makes my legs turn to jelly while I moan incoherently around him. I try to move away, my clit becoming increasingly sensative, but his hands grip back to my hips, holding me captive while he moves his hot tongue in my cunt, licking up my juices as he thrusts himself deeper down my throat. Not letting me until he cums. 

I’m a whimpering mess; my thighs squeeze his face while I lick and sucking, getting him closer so my poor pussy can have a break. 

My efforts were deemed successful as his cock started to twitch and stiffen. With my last lick, he spills himself. He groans as his cock pulsates while I swallow his whole load. With revenge, I continue to suck him, knowing he's going sensitive. He hisses and quickly pulls me off.

“Naughty girl,” he chuckles, slapping my ass hard.

I yelp from the harsh slap and roll my body to the side, recovering from the intense orgasm. Johnny, too, lays still panting. I move up and lay my head on his chest. He throws an arm around me as we both relax into each other. 

Before I knew it, I'd fallen asleep on his chest. 

It's in the middle of the night that I wake up to long, thick fingers inside me, thrusting in and out slowly. 

“You awake, baby?” Johnny asks, now teasing my hard clit with his thumb. I moan out in response, gripping the bedsheets.

"Yeah, does that feel good?" His whispers, his face moving into the crook of my neck, his hardness pressing up against me.

"Ah-ah.” I try to say yes, but it’s morphed into moans.

“Fuck, your tight baby girl, gonna' feel so good when I put it in. He groans while I spread my legs further apart from his words. I'm going to cum soon with the way he’s going.

Instead, he pulls his fingers back, slides over on top, and plunges his hard cock inside me. He slips his wet fingers into his mouth, tasting myself, while his cock goes further deep inside. 

I groan out while he stretches me. A mixture of sleepiness and arousal makes me clench around him. Johnny, in turn, pulls out his fingers, replacing them with his tongue and pushing it into my accepting mouth as he starts a fast rhythm, pounding into me.

All noise is blocked out, except for my moans and the slapping sound of his cock fucking in and out of my sopping hole. 

“I'm going to keep you on my cock forever.” He groans into my ear, grabbing onto my swinging chest. Groping the fatty flesh.

I whimper at the thought of being his cock slave, as if I weren’t already. 

He sits up, holding my hips tightly in one hand, and as the other goes to rub my clit, I hold my tits, stopping their swinging from his hard thrusts.

“I'm going to be full of milk soon.” I moan out, teasing him, thrusting back against his cock. I felt his cock twitch as he groans, knowing he's imaging my tits spilling milk. The hand that was squeezing my hip goes to squish a boob, swatting my hand away and pinching the nipple.

I throw my head back in ecstasy and wrap my legs around Johnny’s waist, getting closer to my second orgasm of the night. 

“Ya' gonna' cum on my cock, sweetheart?” He teases, rubbing my clit achingly slow.

I whine as he also starts to stop his thrusting, keeping me on edge. Repeatedly pulling himself fully out of my cunt and slowly pushing back in. 

Not giving in to his teasing, Johnny takes his cock and starts jerking it, leaving me feeling empty and frustrated. 

“Use your words, darlin'.” He groans out, now stopping his rubbing on my clit, only focusing on getting himself off. 

“Please! Please, I want to cum.” I moan wantonly, fucking desperate for him to continue.

It’s not enough; he is still waiting. 

 

“please daddy.” I moan, testing out a new nickname.

It does the trick as he groans deeply, gliding his hardness back inside me and thrusting away.

Relief floods me when his cock goes back into my aching heat. I’m so close to finishing. 

“I-I-I’m cumming!” I cry out as my pussy squeezes him tightly. My orgasm sends Johnny over the edge as he cums just as quickly inside me.

“Fuck yeah, baby, cum on daddy’s cock.” He moans out, shoving himself deeper. 

I whimper from the overly sensative feeling of being filled and having two orgasms in a short amount of time. 

It’s been a few weeks, and my bump has become more visible. It seems each day I just keep getting bigger and bigger. It does help my confidence that Johnny just can’t seem to keep his hands off me since I’ve become pregnant. It’s like the animal inside of him has changed. Becoming more protective and sex-hungry.

I won’t lie. Being pregnant has been a nice change; I’m doing less labour. Sissy considers me too delicate, and she doesn't want to stress the baby. Drayton has even been forcing Nubbins to actually clean up the messes he makes; he didn’t listen until Sissy and Johnny got on his ass about it too. Three against one, it took him to actually listen. It’s mainly bone scraps he leaves around, always making new traps. He even showed me how he makes him; it was impressive, especially how well they worked on the animals nearby. He explains that it was Grandpa who taught him everything he knows, from killing, slicing, and cleaning his blade, "back when Grandpa was still in his killing form." He told me enthusiastically. 

It’s hard to picture Grandpa in his so-called 'killing form', even if it was years ago. He's just so old and motionless, but with the way he enjoys his blood, I can understand that he may have been more ruthless than anyone here. 

Having less work has made me bored, only spending time in the lounge. I’ve been trying to find my stuff to do. I have no more clothes to patch up or anything to make. And I’ve cleaned so much that there is barely anything else to clean. I need to find something to do before I go crazy.

Johnny has noticed me being a little slumped, so he decided to bring inside some dead rabbits and teach me how to skin them. How lovey. Though it did cure my boredom, even if it was gross, and he did a much better job than me, he made it look so effortless. It was like it was his thousandth time doing it. Unfortunately, it probably was. During my time here, I learned that Johnny is an efficient hunter. The skulls of the animals and other people he killed are used as decorations in the house. 

Those rabbits that we skinned went into a crockpot meal with mashed potatoe; Sissy made it with a bunch of herbs and veggies from her greenhouse. You can't get this type of fresh food in the city. Not including people. 

I decided to try and work on my baking skills, asking Drayton if he could bring back some condensed milk so I could try to make some caramel fudge. He agreed; we already have butter and sugar, so it wasn't too much of an ask, and let’s just say my caramel fudge was a hit. Everyone has a surprising sweet tooth. Maybe not too surprising, as the pantry was stocked with tubs of chocolate drink powder. 

So now during the day, to help my boredom, I've been baking treats and deserts, and it's nice that everyone likes my baking. Even Johnny, who seemed like someone who hates sugar, eats up the sweets much like everyone else. Sissy always gets excited to see what I've made for dessert. She tells me it's become her favourite part of the day. 

Time goes by, and so I get even bigger. Including my chest, I think it's doubled in size; it’s embarrassing how big I’m getting. It doesn’t help that Nubbins snickers around me, poking fun at the size of his chest; he called me a cow one day, and sweet Bubba, who would do anything for his family, smacked Nubbins really hard on the back, making the lanky man tumble embarrassingly forward on the ground. which I've believed humbled him, as I got no more teasing after that.

Some of the spare clothes I’ve had that were modest are now very form-fitting and showy, just because of my growing size. Thankfully, there are old male button-up shirts that I can use to give myself some dignity. 

I don't even know why I worry about my dignity when I let Johnny strip me naked and put me in compromising positions. Thanks to my growing breasts, Johnny couldn’t seem to hold himself back, and now we've been fucking everywhere, more than before.

One moment I’m relaxing outside in the middle of the day, the next I’m nude, riding his cock on the old, ripped-out car seats out back near his shed. I have to hold on to his shoulders tightly because he's making me go. Moving me up and down. He does it purposefully because he likes watching my tits bounce. 

Being pregnant has made everything more sensitive. So when he places his mouth over my nipple and pinches the other, I almost cum. At least fucking outside, I get to be loud. I just hope no one is watching. 

But as I get closer to cumming, the less I care if anyone can see. I’m enjoying myself. So I throw my head back, and I grind down on Johnny while I peak. Milking his cock through my orgasm, he squeezes my chest, holds me down tightly, and fills me up with his hot cum.

Just as my chest grows, so does my ass, so a day later I’m on all fours, holding the headboard for dear life, trying to keep my moans low as Johnny slams into me from behind. He smacks my ass as I thrust back onto him. He grips the fat hard. Making sure this time I finish from his cock alone. Just as I came, he pulls out and pumps himself until he shoots his load over my clit  and pussy, making a mess. He reasons that since I'm pregnant, he can decorate me with his cum. He's especially loves shooting his cum over my face and chest. It's nice that he makes sure I have an orgasm right before he does.

Yes, all my assets may be growing; but most importantly, my stomach is too, With the baby getting bigger, Johnny's softer side comes out.

So now he has a pillow under my hips while he slowly ruts his cock while softly sucking my nipple. He slides his hand over my body, feeling all the curves. He slides his hands down and up my leg till he brings it over to my clit, rubbing it in delicate circles. I groan; going slow is new, but fuck, it still feels good to get pampered like this. 

 

“We’re not fucking like this all the time, are we?” I'm still addicted to the hard and fast fucking Johnny is known for. 

"Nah, Darlin, I just like the way you glow tonight and want it slow.” He says this while ironically speeding up, causing me to whimper.

As my orgasm gets closer, I hold his face in my hands and stare into his handsome eyes. “I love you, Johnny.” I pant out as I cum around him.

“I love you too, doll,” he responds, filling me up with his cum and kissing me hard.

[jokeson-u]

ok so we know shauna is the fastest, lottie has the best footwork, and tai is likely the best all around player. i wanna expand a little on that and what i think the other varsity members are good at.

so first off. jackie. shes the best playmaker. her dad was the local kids soccer coach when she was little and it was her major bonding point with him. she actually enjoyed playing soccer, and watching it with her dad. theyd make plays together and as she got older it kinda stopped but its still a sentimental thing for her.

shauna was always a fast runner, but she preferred track to soccer. jackie really wanted shauna to join from a young age, and shauna didn't like it but she did like spending time w jackie, and she was able to work off some of her frustration on the field when running. she enjoys going on morning jogs sometimes still, and tai occasionally joins her.

lottie was kinda similar to jackie in terms of playing from a young age. her parents and therapist found it important that lottie be involved in social activities. she didnt really care about it, but when she realized she actually had skill she started to enjoy it. it was an easy way to make friends so her parents and therapist dont worry, and as she gets older, its an excuse not to be sitting at home all alone. lottie is a very dedicated person when she cares about something, so her effort in soccer resulted in her above average footwork on the field.

taissa did softball, swim, and briefly basketball as a kid. she wasnt super into it but she was pretty good. like lottie, taissa is a dedicated person, but unlike her, tai puts her 110% into everything, even if she doesnt care about it all that much. she wants to be the best at everything she does. during a soccer unit in middle school gym, she realizes soccer is everything she likes in a sport- especially because its the best shes ever played.

van is goalie obviously, and has the best reflexes. she doesnt do a ton of on field drills bc of her position but she does a lot of training w coach ben while the team does their drills. shes improved drastically at her goalie skills with all the one on one during practice. plus, tai sometimes ropes her into practicing when she goes over to her place, and tai does not go easy on her lol.

natalie is the best scorer. she doesnt actually play organized soccer until high school, but she used to practice juggling a ball in front of her trailer growing up. she got really good at it which is why she figured she'd join the team in high school as something to get her away from her parents. because of her physical comfort with the ball, she was naturally good at taking controlled shots.

laura lee is the best passer and executer. she listens intently to the plays given and is the backbone of getting the ball across the field. but shes also shes really good at sort of sitting back and observing the other teams strengths and weaknesses, and applying that to each play and setting up opportunities for her own team.

mari is a really fucking good defender. she grew up with a lot of brothers, most of which played football, so shes really aggressive and rough by nature when she needs to be.

idk who I'm forgetting and i dont care enough about allie to include her lol

[anticidic]

thanks for tagging me @marichild !! lowkey obsessed with this

Fanfic Writer Interview

How many works do you have on AO3?

21 as of right now! (It should be 22 because I still haven't put up my fic from the bsd Halloween zine up yet, but I DIGRESS)

Your top 5 stories by kudos/likes:

from a to o, i love you so — an omegaverse A/A -> A/O Soukoku piece of Dazai having a mild identity crisis and trying to accept himself for who he is.

foiled fables — A Soukoku yokai!au about Chuuya stumbling upon an eerie shrine and learning the hard way that kitsunes do, in fact, exist.

with me, disaster finds a playfield — Beast!AU from Chuuya's pov loosely following the light novel, only Dazai lives. And instead of telling Beast!Akutagawa and Beast!Atsushi about the Book and "other world", he tells Chuuya.

letters to my chosen one — Angel & Demon AU where Dazai, a historian, is suddenly approached and asked by the higher court of angels to be appointed to a human as a guardian angel after Chuuya's previous guardian angel goes missing.

bad days, good nights — Birthday piece for Dazai. Chuuya loses a bet (again) and wears a maid dress (again).

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to respond promptly, but sometimes I'll open and read a comment and PLAN to reply later, then a week goes by before I remember again. Longer comments I may take some time to get back to, but I do my best to respond to readers! I love the speculations people make about where they think I'm taking the story (shoutout to someone who predicted a critical plot point way in advance before I even got to it) but yes, I respond! I love and appreciate comments!

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

still the snowflakes fall — A what-if had Dazai been a part of the Decay of Angels instead. And Fyodor's very involved in their relationship. Predictably, it isn't very happy. Dazai loses his memories after a page in the Book rewrites his past, and it doesn't come back to him until all of Yokohama is already engulfed in flames.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

I think probably from a to o, i love you so. Because it's about Dazai waking up one morning and losing a critical part of his identity and suddenly everything he knows is a lie. But despite fumbling, he comes to accept a new reality because, as Chuuya puts it, he's still Dazai. That core part of him hasn't changed.

Do you write crossovers?

I don't, and don't think I would because it feels like a complicated thing to tackle, but I've considered writing fusions! Like, more than several times I've thought of writing bsd characters in a Honkai Star Rail setting, or even like a world where Pokémon exist.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I've gotten a few weird comments, but I just delete/block and move on.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

SO LIKE, I'm not even gonna toe around this (lol). Because if you look at my ao3, it's almost all entirely E fics. I like smut included in plots and smut with feelings, though. PWPs aren't really my style, I've found.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I've been graciously approached a few times asking to translate my works! But because they were explicit in nature, I didn't feel comfortable having them translated to Wattpad. I'm not terribly familiar with Wattpad's policies with that sort of content, but I didn't want the people asking to risk getting in trouble.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Does unpublished count @ohhcinnybuns and I go back and forth with our Snow White!Dazai and Prince!Chuuya writings.

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

It feels unfair to name one, but IwaOi and ShuAke still hold tiny places in my heart though I'm not as interested in Haikyuu!! and Persona 5 anymore. And then there's Soukoku for the last like...eight years.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I have a Dead Apple sorta-one shot that I just haven't found the time to go back to. It was from Chuuya's pov shortly after fighting the dragon and saving Yokohama. Basically just post-Dead Apple stuff, but Dazai taking off with him instead for some sweet post-corruption care. I don't want to say I'll NEVER finish it, but I just have so,, so many other things that both need my attention and have my attention because of sheer brainrot.

What are your writing strengths?

Painting scenes and going into depth about character motives and inner thoughts! I'm almost detail-oriented to a fault, and I've had scenes compared to like reading Dostoevsky a lot.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Dialogue, weirdly enough. I always had a sneaking suspicion that I write a little too much exposition and focus on too many details that there's not enough dialogue. (I even wrote a fic entirely without any dialogue.) It's something I've been actively working on! It feels weird struggling on dialogue when my job requires me to actively engage with others throughout the entire day, but I'm just an awkward potato dialogue writer.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

This feels tough to me, because I feel like honorifics don't translate as well to English. I write Japanese honorifics simply because I feel like it reads a little better, but that's about it. I throw in some Japanese-originated words like tatami mats, taiyaki, and kotatsus since most of what I write takes place in Japan.

What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?

Jouno/Tetchou for sure! I love them, but I just don't have any inspiration for them. Every inspiring idea I get ends up going to Soukoku or Fyozai. I wanted to once write a Valentine's fic for Suegiku of Jouno giving Tetchou boxed chocolates, but then it didn't happen.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

foiled fables!! The origin of the kitsune!Dazai brainrot that spiraled out of control into kitsune!Chuuya and now kitsune!skk as a whole. I finished it a while ago and almost like not even a day goes by where I don't think about it. Someone even made lovely art inspired by it, and another person made a playlist dedicated to it and it makes my heart swell. But I also really loved coming up with the plot and the twist in it.

no pressure tags!!: @mothboypoison @unicornpopcorn14 @frankenjoly @ohhcinnybuns @floatysparrowthing

[iamfujoshiwe]

VegasPete Rambling

I usually only read Japanese Manga. I even filtered my search to strictly show only Japanese Manga. And out of nowhere I have this urge to try watching Live Action BL Drama I filtered them to Japanese too. But to be honest I'm not fond of Japanese BL Drama. Well maybe my taste is just different from others (I only watched a few of them so who knows). Sometimes the acting is weird. I guess a good comedy/gag in manga is just not translated well enough in live action.

Aaannndd in the middle of searching BL Drama I discovered the fckn "KINNPORSCHE THE SERIES". I saw them a few times on tumblr. Some gifs. Some fangirling posts. I was sceptic about Thai BL. I didn't even know Thai BL exist until now. But I decided to give it a try anyway. And boy do I fell hard. HARD!!! It altered the chemistry in my brain!! KPTS had aired two years ago and I just found it now???? Have I live in the cave all my life????

From ep 1 I immediately fell in love. The acting, the character's chemistry, and everything is so amazing. I didn't sense any awkward acting/dialogue I usually saw in Japanese BL Drama (No offense really, it was just me). I literally stopped reading all my followed BL/Non BL Manga and and even stopped reading the new ones too.

All the time my mind just screaming "WHAT A FINE MAN" everytime Porsche appeared. But for real Apo is soooooo good looking.

And when Kinn appeared I just got distracted by his chest. Sir, buttons exist for a reason you know. What grudge do you have with them? (Not that I mind of course). Mile is born to play Kinn.

Then I met VegasPete couple. Let me tell you, when I have obsesssion I really do obsess them to oblivion. Having tunnel vision about them. VegasPete takes the cake.

At first I have this thought: Every actor in KPTS is so good looking so why this vegas character is… not as good looking as them? (Yeah I want to kill my past self for that).

I have this funny feeling about thai actor's voice. Maybe because Thai language is a foreign language to me. I don't hear them often, as opposed to english and japanese (and my main language of course). That's one of the reason why I filtered my search to just Japanese BL Drama. But Vegas' voice OMG. I adore his voice so much. And Bible speaking english is just * CHEF'S KISS * I melted everytime I listen to his voice. BIBLE SPEAKING ENGLISH IS A GIFT TO HUMANITY!! AND THAT HUMANITY IS ME!!!

When VegasPete plot took off, my focus immediately shift to them (I am sorry Kinn and Porsche). I can't count how many times I rewatched their scenes.

I definitely have to include Pete's cry in Yok's bar (when he met vegas after he had ran away from safehouse) and swimming pool (after Vegas got shot). Such a raw emotion. 100 point for Build! I come to love him because his crying voice lol.

Vegas and Pete easily become my favorites. So naturally I have to search for their actor right? And thus began my search for Bible and Build…..

ONLY FOR MY HEART TO BE CRUSHED! MY SHIP HAD SUNK ALREADY!

Build's scandal on his old socmed post? His scandal with Poi? I don't really mind. But Build talking bad about Bible? Yeah my heart couldn't take it. It's in pieces (In a way I'm glad because when all the chaos took place I haven't entered the fandom yet so I never encounter their fan's toxicity). But I respect their decision to go their own way. I know it's not healthy for them to continue working together. So yeah I am sad but their mental health is more important.

Soooooo now I'm still deep in VegasPete swamp (with occasional breaking down when I remember BibleBuild). I choose to sink in VegasPete fanfictions on ao3. And woah there are soooo many amazing author there. Their fics are spectacular! I can't thank them enough for doing God's work creating those holy VegasPete fics.

Oh and anyway I read VegasPete novel too. But I don't like it…. their character are too different from the show. Honestly fanfictions are waaay better…. KinnPorsche novel too. One chapter and I was like nope, I couldn't bring myself to read further. End of story.

And that's why as of now I still can't read manga or watch any other BL Drama. Damn VegasPete! (Affectionate). My waiting list are Not Me The Series and Last Twilight. I hope I'll collect enough braincell soon so I can start watching them. There are so many BL and Non BL manga I haven't continue reading.

[lux-bee]

a normal guy with brown-to-blonde hair, who shares his body with someone else without knowing (except the person he's sharing with does know)?

and that other person is more likely to cause harm than he is?

what could this remind me of?

i didn't realise, but look, they're even doing similar poses lmao

(i have more ramblings (including info about these guys for people who only know one of them) because i am EXTREMELY normal about both of these series, but i'll put those under the cut)

the moment i saw robin in the poster, i thought "wouldn't it be funny if it was like mikoto" purely because his hair reminded me of him,, AND THEN IT WAS??? apollo lined up that dodgeball shot perfectly goddamn

for the people seeing this who know only one of these medias (first of all thank you for actually reading this lol): robin shares his body with the spirit of a sorceress named morven, and mikoto is the host of a DID system, sharing his body with a guy named john - in a loose sense, robin is like mikoto, and morven is like john

also for the people seeing this who only know one of these series:

oxventure fans: if you are also a fan of vocaloid*, audio dramas (but don't mind needing subtitles unless you know japanese), social commentary, interactive media, and like the sound of a cast of characters that really make you think, check out milgram project on youtube! we're currently in the drought between seasons 2 and 3 (likely the last season), so it's a good time to binge what we have so far! (* it's a song project, with original music by deco*27 - each prisoner also has one cover of a deco song every season)

milgram fans: if you are also a fan of ttrpgs (especially dnd), puns, characters that keep you wanting to know more, and british humour, and don't mind longer videos (upwards of just under 3 hours), check out oxventure on youtube! they have a handful of different campaigns, but if you like folk horror, wyrdwood began on friday so is a good place to start! (but i highly recommend their other campaigns too - their first one that happened over the span of 7 years took me about 2 months to binge, but they have shorter ones too)

[illarian-rambling]

For the suggestion prompt tag: a MG beach episode scene?

Lol, I'm glad to see this au catching on, I love it so much. I'll put it under the cut, and for spoiler reasons, everyone is just gonna be as they are in book one (or book two in Elsind and Avymere's case)

Hope you enjoy!

"I'm not going," Ivander told himself for the fifth time.

The detective peered out the window of his apartment. It was sunny outside - a rare sight for Unity - but not blazing hot. He could see families strolling about in their summertime best, pigeons bathing in puddles from last night's rain, and even the ferry boats seemed to chug along the canals in a merrier fashion than usual. Everyone was taking advantage of the perfect weather, it seemed.

Including his idiot acquaintances and those two Skysheerian oddities they'd dragged along on their vacation to Unity.

"Going to the beach?" Ivander snorted in disbelief as he limped away from the window and began to scrounge around his kitchen for any leftovers to make into breakfast. "Who the hell comes to Unity for the beaches?"

Yes, there were cleaner areas of the Gray Lake you could swim in, but generally, all Unitian citizens were drilled from a young age not to touch the polluted stuff. Ivander, like most of his city's people, couldn't so much as doggy paddle, despite his primary mode of transport being canal boats.

"And Mashal's even going? Good gods, I thought that man was smarter. ...Oh, nevermind."

What would he wear? Ivander winced as he took a bite of yesterday's pasta. Even that soft texture felt like broken glass on the inside of his half-flayed mouth when his medication hadn't taken full effect. He couldn't wear a suit to a beach. That was preposterous!

The only things in his closet that didn't fit that description was a pair of shorts he hadn't worn since his curse hadn't been so bad and a loose silk shirt he wore to bed when Ceyrel stayed over. That would leave far too much skin exposed. Ivander winced again at the thought of sand getting onto flayed patches of exposed flesh. He might be having a decent day with his pain level, but sand would put an end to such a thing with all possible speed.

"I could wear bandages maybe," he mused. "Oh, but that would be so embarrassing."

His illusion pin might’ve covered up his curse's true extent upon his skin, but it didn't cover anything placed onto his skin. Otherwise, he'd have been walking around in the illusion of being naked and no one wanted that. He usually wore bandages under his clothes to keep the blood off, yes, but it was a different thing entirely to walk around swaddled up like an Araunian mummy.

Ivander glanced outside his window once more. The city practically bloomed with the sun's light. Colors popped more vibrantly. Passersby laughed more loudly. He knew Astra had promised to save him a seat and a drink.

"I'm not going," he muttered.

○○○○

This is idiotic, what was I thinking?

Ivander tightened his grip on his cane as he sized up the stretch of sand between him and a circle of umbrellas several yards off. Even from here, he could pick up the scent of grilling meat.

He just had to make it across the sand wearing rain boots of all things.

Indeed, Ivander’s cheeks burned when he thought about just how ridiculously he was dressed. A pair of clunky rain boots had been all he could think of that wouldn't allow sand to get onto his feet. To match, he wore a pair of leather riding gloves. Between those and the cuffs of his shirt and shorts - which didn't look half bad as a pair, he had to admit - were wrapped many layers of bandages. To top it all off, he'd had Ceyrel run him a wide brimmed hat to keep the sun from scorching his pale complexion.

Taking a tentative step, Ivander grunted as the sand shifted under his foot and seemed to all but swallow the tip of his cane. A bolt of acid agony shot through his knee as he stumbled, just barely keeping his balance.

"Why did I ever agree to this nonsense," he hissed through clenched teeth.

But still, the sun was oh so warm, which made his dark apartment seem oh so cold. He could hear raucous conversation from the circle of umbrellas. It sounded like drinks had already been well circulated.

As Ivander took another off-balance step forward, the flash of bronze caught his eye, while the sound of jogging footsteps graced his ears.

"You made it!" Mashal waved as he called out. For some unaccountable reason, the earnest joy in the knight's voice brought a different kind of sting to Ivander’s aching eyes.

"I wouldn't say I've made it yet," the detective griped. "I could still turn around, march back home, and take off his ridiculous excuse for an outfit."

"Hey, you're not alone there." Mashal offered Ivander an arm to lean on as he shifted a leg to show off his own thick leather wrappings. "Sand and delicate, easily scratchable runes don't mix, or so I've been told."

Ivander gratefully took his friend's arm, wincing a bit at the press of sunwarmed bronze despite his relief. He didn't think he'd ever seen Mashal in something so revealing as a T-shirt. It seemed Ivander wasn't the only one taking risks today.

Slowly, the pair made their way over to where the rest of the group had set up. Ivander could see Astra in the midst of some wild and overblown story, arms waving dramatically. She wore quite the flattering bikini and seemed as if she'd been in the water already. Listening raptly was a young changeling in a floral sundress and an elf clutching a cocktail while clad in perhaps the most antiquated bathing suit Ivander had ever seen.

Those must be their Skysheerian friends. Oh gods, what were their names again?

"Hey there, sweetheart!" Astra called upon noticing them. "I saved you a mojito!"

"So considerate of you," Ivander answered. He breathed a sigh of relief upon finding the chair they'd left for him, complete with a cushion for his back. "Is it made with proper rum or some backwater hooch you cooked up on an engine block?"

"You'll just have to drink and find out." Astra grinned evily. "Hell, I'm surprised your pansy ass tastebuds can handle rum at all. I imagined they might up n' die without some piss dry, dinosaur vintage red wine."

Ivander sniffed delicately as he adjusted himself into a more comfortable position. "Not all of us have moonshine instead of blood, my dear."

But that only caused her grin to go all the wider. "Damn, I gotta remember that one. That's quality. Anyways, I was just tellin' Elsind and Avymere 'bout this time-"

Ivander sighed contentedly as the story played out, full of Astra’s usual grandiose descriptions and wild gestures. Off to the side, Mashal hummed to himself as he watched the grill, contentedly flipping a spatula from hand to hand. The Skysheerian pair, he couldn't say much of, but the changeling gasped excitedly at every turn of Astra’s story, while the elf nodded drowsily as they laid back in the sun.

His legs ached. They would ache even worse tomorrow and he could feel sand inching its insidious way past his bandages. Yet he was happy nonetheless. He had a life, didn't he? It might be a painful one, but he was still living it.

It was a good day, and even if stormclouds always lurked on the horizon, Ivander was determined to ignore them in favor of sitting in the sun a little while longer.

[longing-for-rain]

Yeah I agree with the other anon that Mai was written poorly. Her character actions also seem to contradict each other because she joins Azula out of boredom and is never shown to fear her which is why she disobeys Azula's orders in contrast to Ty Lee who is shown to fear Azula. But then Mai says she loves Zuko more than she fears Azula...but we never see her fear Azula in the first place? She also didn't care about her Tom-Tom in the cartoon but cared about him in the comics, and Gene Yang just said she had "off-screen character development" lol. Mai is amusing but all her character motivations just seem to revolve around dating some guy who doesn't even seem to care about her.

Ty Lee is more consistent overall but her joining the Kyoshi Warriors makes no sense for her character in my opinion since she didn't want to be part of a "matched set" and I didn't like how she was excluded from being at Iroh's tea house with the Gaang while Mai was there since Ty Lee would have become good friends with Suki by then. Why include Mai but not have Ty Lee there? It's weird.

Honestly I think Mai and Suki’s characters suffered for the exact same reason. They were side characters who were made into love interests, and therefore became “the girlfriend” instead of getting any kind of individual development. I’m sorry, but both of these characters felt so inconsistent in Book 3, and the comics…don’t even get me started.

I’m glad you mentioned Tom-Tom though because I actually really liked the animosity Mai seemed to have for him (or rather what he represents) because it adds so much depth. Because I know it’s mean or whatever, but consider how it feels to be 15 and emotionally repressed and watch the same people who told you to be still and silent gush over some stinky toddler. Not to mention the timing—he would have been born very shortly after Zuko’s banishment, almost like Mai’s parents went “well there goes our shot at marrying our daughter into the royal family, time for plan B.” I have so many thoughts about this but I’ll cut it short here.

I know that’s all just speculation but come on that would have been so much more interesting to explore than “oh yah Mai likes him now :)))” like the comics did.

[paz-45]

EE Lyrics Study: teeth/bones/nails

Hello! This is my first "lyric study" for the band Everything Everything and the topic is: BONES/TEETH/NAILS.

Basically, when listening to their music, I kept noticing words related to this topic and I was curious if the topic actually existed across their discography. I marked every lyric that included key words:

bone, skull, teeth, vertebrae, fossil, etc.

I did a little research to see the cultural significance or any other meaning/symbolism of these words. I didn't want to dive too much into the actual meaning of the lyrics*** or the greater context of the song, but instead looked at the overall patterns of the key words.

I notice that in EE's lyrics, bones/teeth are mostly used to evoke images of graphic things being done to a body or to liken humans to other animals/creatures. There's mentions of bones both inside a living human and in someone/something that's dead.

Personally, I interpret these uses as a more shocking or uncomfortable way to refer to those parts of the body (e.g. teeth instead of smile, clavicle instead of collar, skull instead of head), which is pretty on-brand for EE's provocative lyrics/themes.

And half the street was under my nails -MY KZ, UR BF

Cos even now, there's a bone snapping -Leave the Engine Room

My teeth dazzle like an igloo wall, I inhabit, I inhibit ya'll -Photoshop Handsome

But right above my clavicle, the world becomes so laughably old -Wizard Talk

Teeth and nails your little anatomy -Luddites and Lambs

Past-tense -- what's a trilobite to anyone? -Kemosabe (marked because it only exists in fossil form)

Coiled heart, eye-tooth, feral child -Torso of the Week

And cloudy with potential, muscle mass and vertebrae begin... -Choice Mountain

While Princes fly drones that can see through your bones - Undrowned

The street is a boneyard she glances -Armourland

And now who's the fossil who gets the girl? -The House is Dust

Bic your head and show your teeth to them honey -Don't Try

And sweat runs up his neck and spine -Awe/Arc

You take the poleaxe out of your spine, push your shoulder back in its place -A.D.

Canine, fangs up out my throat -Distant Past

Teeth on a wire -Get to Heaven

Swing the hammer, the fragments, a skull exploding -Spring/Sun/Winter/Dread

Bone, to the blade -The Wheel is Turning Now

Bones in a bowl like a toad-in-the-hole, take the shape out of the mould -No Reptiles

And your spine is a glass spire -President Heartbeat

I can feel my bones screaming out -Yuppie Supper

Yet the concrete burns at the back of your skull -Night of the Long Knives

I'm just a knuckle dragger with a knuckle dragger grin -Desire

If my bones just fall away -Good Shot, Good Soldier

Skeleton boy with the skeleton girl souvenir -Big Climb

As fresh as my bouncing bones -Arch Enemy

The bones snap into place -Black Hyena

Stretching my lips over my teeth -SUPERNORMAL

I want the teeth of the enchanter - I Want A Love Like This

Drinking from a hollow skull -Cut UP!

But the seed inside your skull is now a watermelon -HEX

You can sing you can play my ribcage like piano -My Computer

***I feel like we'll never know exactly what Jonathan means when he writes (lol seems like he doesn't know sometimes either) so I didn't want to get caught up in guessing what he meant. I find it tiring to try to figure out 'why did he say that?' and instead just enjoy and find my own meaning :)