#maybe he truly is a visionary?

[idkimnotreal]

tfw elon musk literally ends twitter and it's not april 1st.

the name twitter, the brand, was everything keeping it from flopping definitely under his new "direction". but i don't think he wants to save twitter, he never did. they shouldn't have let this purchase go through. i feel like twitter was too big to fail and it's going to leave a permanent vacuum on the already depleted and overly monopolized 2020s internet.

[mythicmanuscripts]

can you write sub!aemond going into sub–space mid fuck? like he switches to high–valyrian, eye all glassy and pupil dilated, and no control over his body (hips bucking up subconsciously etc)

maybe some overstimulation because he's so sensitive and he's all pliant and grabby with his hands? 🤭

I… anon you are truly a visionary.

NSFW sub!Aemond below the cut :))

So firstly, Aemond has no idea what subspace is before this happens, but I do think he actually would have been sort of teetering on subspace for a while whenever you and he would spend quiet time alone? Like if he knelt for you or you let him rest his head on your chest or if you read to him. His mind just switches off and he lets himself relax and float, knowing that you’re there if anything happens.

Because if that, I think the first time it would happen would be one of those times that turned into sex? You were laying in bed with his head resting on your inner thigh. You had one hand in his hair, gently stroking and massaging his head and then you were reading something to him, usually something calming and familiar.

He was letting himself relax, but he also hadn’t seen you in a few days and while you were absolutely right when you saw him and said he needed to calm down with you before he did anything else, he is now calm and far far too close to your undergarments to not want to taste.

You see that coming from a mile away of course, Aemond can never hide his intentions with you. You wait until he starts to get squirmy and grinds against the bed before you give him permission to eat you out, which he immediately dives into the moment you let him.

He’s so good with it, and by the time you’re pulling him away from you he’s so turned on and so so needy.

You get him to lay on the bed then with his back against the headboard and you ride him. When you start he’s not in subspace, but he is just… really settled? There’s no urgency, no begging or gripping of your thighs. It’s like he knows now that when he’s this vulnerable you will always give him exactly what he needs, so he doesn’t beg or try to do anything, he knows you’ll make this perfect.

And you do, of course.

You start off riding him nice and slow, listening to all his little whimpers. It’s when you pick up the pace that you see something has changed.

The first thing you notice is that his grip on your hips tightens and then his hips buck up. You had told him not to move at all, so feeling his hips buck up into you surprised you, because he’d normally never ever disobey you like that.

You’re about to tell him off for that, but then you look at him and he’s just so clearly gone. He’s leaning his head against the wall, panting and whining and mumbling something in high Valyrian so soft that you can’t make out what he’s saying. You tell him to look at you and he only whines louder and bucks his hips again.

You gently take his jaw in your hand and directly him to look into yours and that’s when you know for certain that he’s in subspace. His eyes are all glossy and looking right past you. He mumbles in high Valyrian again and this time you’re able to actually make out the word.

Wife. He’s mumbling wife.

And well, you’re certainly not going to tell him off now.

You tell him he’s so pretty like this, which makes him whine again and then you start riding him properly once more. He no longer knows what to do with his hands, can’t seem to make his mind up. He’s grabbing your thighs then hips then breaths then face and repeating it over and over, like he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

You end up taking his hands and putting them on your waist, telling him to keep them there. He throws his head back in response and whimpers out something that sounded like “yes, wife, I will try” in high Valyrian. The poor thing seems completely incapable of English.

When you can see he starts to get close, you tell him immediately that he can cum because you really don’t want to risk how he might react if he came without permission and thought he disappointed you.

He’s so loud when he comes, whimpering and whining and saying “wife” and “thank you” over and over in high Valyrian.

The moment his orgasm is over, he’s straight into overstimulation because you’re still sitting on him, but he’s so pliant? He tries to push you off him, but it’s like he has absolutely no strength? He ends up kinda just weakly pushing against your hip.

You only ride him a little while longer and then get off because you don’t want to overwhelm him when he’s this vulnerable.

The moment you’ve rolled off him, he rolls to follow you and buries his head in your chest. He just holds you tight and whines and cries as he slowly comes down.

You ensure not to leave his side until you’re sure he’s recovered.

When he does recover, he’s just so thankful? He felt so so safe and well looked after by you. For the next few days he’s in the best mood that anyone has ever seen him in.

[a-pigeons-soliloquy]

cordell is such a simp for mason verger it's actually kind of embarrassing

[kyoghurts]

LOVER, YOU SHOULD'VE COME OVER. ✦˚˳⊹ RAYNE AMES

you confess your love to rayne and you don't regret doing so. ever. angst | inspired by this song | short drabble i wrote instead of resting.

you’re ready for anything that comes your way. well, you like to tell that to yourself before you dive headfirst into anything reckless. and confessing to your crush, rayne ames, wouldn’t be any different to how you approach things, even if the affirmation is a lie. you fake it 'til you make it, you suppose.

what prompted you to pour your honest feelings for him, you are not sure. but there’s something in the way he always checks up on you through short greetings before your class starts. his random questions regarding your activity after, if you’re free, or if you’re going out, only for him to give you a warning of the slightest danger that you know you could ward off so easily.

but even then, he didn’t have to do all that, with the nature of his divine visionary work, you honestly don’t expect anything from him. you’re happy to just simply sit still, to quiet your thoughts when he’s near you, to smile him across the halls in simple acknowledgment.

to let him know that you exist, admiring and supporting him, was enough.

was enough.

you couldn’t just sit still after he gave you a gift for no particular reason when he just got off from his mission and god so help you if you were seeing things because he’s awful at hiding his miniscule smile (or that he never intended to hide it in the first place) as he withdraws from you.

and when you open the box to be met with a limited edition merch you once complained to him of not having your hands on it—mind you, that was only a trivial musing you briefly mentioned eons ago— your mind won’t let you sleep until you finally sealed it.

there was no way he’d do all that without an intention. he’s not that kind of person that you’ve come to hold dear.

but what other option do you have in order to prove yourself wrong, other than directly addressing the source?

yeah, maybe you’re just confirming your point. maybe you’re ready to find out the truth, maybe you’re not.

you stand, knees wobbling, though rayne doesn’t seem to notice it. his golden eyes fixed on yours, an unreadable expression—like always— stuck to his face.

you don’t expect anything, truly you don’t, but just this once in your life — you want to see things go right this time.

it doesn’t.

you don’t know where you stand with rayne at this point, maybe you’re just someone he knows, maybe you’re just a junior he’s grown fond with, like his brother, or maybe you’re not any of that — does it matter now?

(does he even think of you the way you think of him?)

(his bow, blocking whichever expression he was wearing, wasn't enough for you to draw any conclusion. the last thing you'll probably ever hear from him is his apology, his rejection ever so quiet, softening the blow. he'll never get to see how pained you are, how much you cried through closed doors, and you like to keep it that way.)

somewhere in the middle of a war between life and death, caught up in the eclipse set up by innocent zero, destruction and debris soon fall before you as you try to save another person. your head is pounding, your vision grown muzzy. a giant suddenly kicks you against brick walls until you pierce through it, and events leading after that is unrevealed to you as you lose consciousness. as death wins before life can claim you back.

you don't regret your life that much. you've let rayne know there was someone out there who watched him grow beyond limits, who loved him as he is.

his warm, tiny smile lulls you to your eternal sleep. soft, peaceful, and quiet. you leave the world in a silent goodbye.

"..."

"their body brutally experienced several traumatic injuries, the collapse was too deep. we found them after several days, and their face was muddled so we couldn't determine their identi—"

"i'll take it from here." the coldness upon rayne's order bled through one of the investigators. he sees the merch cling to your pocket like a lucky charm, and he doesn't need proof that it's you because other than his brother, you value him more than he values himself.

he waits for prying eyes to eventually leave before he hangs his head low, he drapes your figure over a blanket. away from which the world shall never inflict pain to you ever again.

away from him, from the shattered heart that he caused.

"i'm sorry." it means nothing. his actions had done nothing for his apology to hold any weight. this is the second time he had hurt you, and from the looks of it, had cost your life instead of protecting it. protecting you.

"i'm sorry." his voice starts breaking. because i didn't want to reject you. i had to.

"i'm sorry." because i failed you.

"i'm sorry." because i loved you in the wrong way.

"i'm sorry." because i should've loved you how you deserved to be loved.

"i'm sorry." because i love you, and i never told you.

teardrops stain the blanket as quiet sobs fill the empty room. you never got to understand that when he bowed to you the first time, his lips were swollen from biting down hard, and his expression were morphed with regret. now, he looks as if he's a mourning lover deserted in his own world.

tags. @seneon @steleir @luvmequmi eat this.

notes. LOLLLLL IM EVIL :3

© kyoghurts. ★ reblogs & likes are well appreciated!

[stellar-skyy]

IN THE BLINK OF AN EYE — Wanderer, Furina x reader.

i. SUMMARY: Moments that changed everything between you. ii. CONTENT WARNINGS: Reader has medium length/long hair (long enough to braid) in Wanderer's part, VERY slight spoilers for the 4.2 Archon quest in Furina's part. iii. NOTES: Rivals to lovers & Vahumana!reader in Wanderer's part, lovers to exes to ??? in Furina's part, fluff, gn!reader, they/them pronouns used, 2.9k words. iv. A/N: This is my gift, for the Favonius Lbrary secret santa, for @heiayen! Merry Christmas Heia, I hope you enjoy! if you don't i will cry! (that is a joke but i do hope you like it :3) Once again, sorry this is late :(

WANDERER

The students that studied at the Akademiya could be divided into several groups.

There were the hard-workers, who weren't particularly intelligent by birth, but fought tooth and nail to drag themselves up in the ranks. That group occasionally overlapped with the truly passionate ones; who were so invested in their pursuit of knowledge that little could stand in their way of it. There were the underachievers, the overachievers, the visionaries and the slackers. In each classroom you were bound to have at least a handful of each.

Then there were the gifted ones. The ones who breezed past every subject with ease, who were pushed as the representatives of the Darshans, to show outsiders how talented and dedicated their students were. The geniuses, the prodigies, the virtuosos. They were the students that treated their intelligence as a prize to be flaunted above the rest, who would lazily fill out their test papers and be returned with perfect grades, who managed to both value their knowledge above all else and take it for granted. Out of all the Akademiya scholars, those were the most arrogant and truly insufferable ones.

Wanderer fell into the latter category.

He joined their class later in the year, and settled in as a permanent thorn in everyone's side. Every addition to their scholarly discussions was gasoline on a dying bonfire, strategically placed to set the class aflame. He'd raise his hand with disinterested corrections to other student's theories, followed by irritating opposition to whatever stance the professor was attempting to take, all sprinkled with a pinch of disdain and the most unpleasant attitude one could possibly have.

The most infuriating part, was that he was never wrong. His logic was sound, every addition was justified. No matter how sarcastic or scornful-sounding his interjections were, they were never without reason. And a week into their class proved him to be one of the most naturally exceptional minds in Vahumana.

Maybe [Name] would admire him if being around him didn’t make them want to throw a book at his head.

That first week in their class had solidified two more things. First, if Wanderer was going to act so cocky, then it was their sworn mission to make sure he was knocked down.

Second—

“The answer is D. All of the above.” Wanderer yawned. “Honestly, you call yourselves scholars—”

“Actually, it’s not.” A voice rang out, clear and steady. “You could argue that it’s all of the above if you were looking at it from a very elementary perspective, but once you actually start to analyse each answer, you’ll see the flaws in them all. All except one, that is. The answer’s C.”

“[Name] is correct. The answer is C.”

He turned, eyes narrowed. They fell on an equally hard gaze. There was something fiery there, as if they were raising a challenge. He met them with a smirk, as if he was accepting it.

—They were not friends. They were rivals.

Precisely why they couldn't work with him.

“Please! Can I be paired with anyone else?” They begged, face falling further with every passing moment that their professor remained unfazed. The rest of the class had vacated the lecture hall already—all eagerly chatting about their chosen topics—leaving the two of them alone to talk.

“I have full faith in you, [Name].” The professor said calmly, sitting down at his chair and shuffling papers into an orderly stack. “This is a simple assessment.”

The assignment itself wasn’t the difficult part. A straightforward research project in a subject of their choice, one that related to the topics they’d been learning that semester. It was supposed to help lead the class into their further studies, to gently ease them into researching on their own and prepare them for when they would have to write their final thesis.

It was the easiest of tasks, but the problem wasn’t the task itself. It was who they’d been chosen to work with.

“Group projects are designed to test how well people can work together with others.” He sighed, and leaned back on his chair with a pensive expression. “I don’t like all of the people I have worked with in my studies, but as academics, it is something we all must suffer. And besides; if I regrouped everyone who complained about their partner, I would never stop changing them.”

It wasn’t as if they were trying to be painful. Finishing a group project would be easy, had they been partnered with anyone but him.

“Just try to make the best of it, wont you?” A smile flashed across his face. “Perhaps you might even make a friend.”

Friend was far too hopeful of a thought. Friend was the last word they would use to describe—

“Wanderer.” They hissed under their breath, his name poison on their lips. “Trust me, Professor. I will not.”

The two students arranged to meet in the library. Or, more specifically Wanderer had appeared right as they left the classroom and told them, “If you’re finished complaining about me, come to the library tomorrow at eleven.” before disappearing.

The library was once their solace, where they could study in peace away from any distractions. The sounds of pages turning, faint whispers, and pens scratching against paper provided a comforting ambience to their research.

Now, it was—

“You took long enough.”

“It’s not my fault you’re impatient.”

Something considerably less homely.

“I have several ideas,” They said.

“Of course you do.” Wanderer scoffed. They ignored him.

“We could do it on Ancient Deshrat.” They mused, skimming across their notes. A stray strand of hair fell into their eyeline, and they tucked it behind their ear mindlessly. “We looked at them earlier in the year, a little before you joined the class. They have a lot of interesting traditions we could look at—maybe a comparison back to modern Sumeru, to see how the influences carry over.”

“I don’t care. Just choose one, and tell me what part you’re doing.”

They inhaled slowly, forcing the anger down and running the professor’s words through their mind. It’s one project. Once they were done, they never had to work with him again.

“Fine,” They snapped. “I will work on researching whatever information we need. You will write up an introduction outlining… outlining…” Their words trailed off to make way for a huff. Once again, their hair had fallen into their eyes, and they pushed it out of their face impatiently.

“Just move it out of your face, it’s not that hard.” Wanderer said snippily.

“Oh, thank you, I would never have thought of that.” They retorted.

“Well, I don’t see you doing anything useful, other than swatting at your own forehead.”

“I’m moving it out of my way! We can’t all have a bowl-cut!”

“Then braid it.”

“I—” It wasn’t a bad suggestion, as much as they loathed to admit it. “I can’t. I can’t braid my hair behind my back, and I don’t have anything to tie it up, even if I could.”

They lapsed into silence, Wanderer staring at them like he didn't quite believe them.

“I could braid it for you,” He said suddenly. They looked up at him, blinking.

“You… want to… braid my hair?” They repeat slowly.

He huffed. “Are you seriously that slow? Do you need it written and signed for you to understand?”

“I just find it hard to believe," They said defensively.

“You were complaining about it being in your way." He said, extending each word slowly like they were a child who couldn't quite understand what was going on. "The less you complain, the faster we get this done, and the less time I have to spend working with you.”

"Fine." They say, fighting back a blush.

"Fine?"

"Just do it, already."

His hands were oddly careful against their hair, raking across their scalp to comb through the knots and tangles. The feeling was soothing, almost cathartic. It would be far too easy to close their eyes and sink into the feeling.

They weren't quite sure what they were expecting. Nails that felt more like claws? Rough tugging on the knots in their hair, just enough to be painful? Surely something uncomfortable, to match the animosity between them. Nothing quite as soft as this.

“This is kind of surprising to be honest. You don’t seem to be the type to be good at braiding hair.” Their words sounded a touch too nice, so they were quick to add, “—Especially with that haircut.”

A shiver ran down their spine, as gentle hands ran through their hair. It was freshly brushed, and by then he must have already worked out any knots, yet they ran through it anyway, as if their intent wasn’t just to untangle it.

“I braid my… Aunt’s hair, a lot.” He said suddenly, pulling them from the trance. They make a hum, a quiet signal for him to continue. “She’s the one who showed me how to do it.”

“I didn’t know you had an aunt,” They said, without thinking. The thought comes a moment after: Of course you didn’t, you don’t know a thing about him.

Wanderer didn’t seem fazed. “No, we only became close recently. She… she’s done a lot for me.”

They waited for him to elaborate, but his quota for abruptly sharing information about himself appeared to have been filled. Instead of talking, he fixed his focus on their hair, dividing it into three sections and brushing his fingers through to neaten them. One by one, he twisted them over one another until he reached the end of their hair.

“Do you have anything to tie it up?” He asked. They shake their head, and he scoffed. “Of course."

Still gripping the end of the braid, he used his free hand to rifle through the inside of his bag until he pulled out a loose piece of ribbon. From there, he quickly tied off the end.

"Now stop complaining," He sat back down and leaned back in his hair nonchalantly, as if he was unaware of the static filling their mind. All they could focus on was the phantom feeling of hands—his hands—on their scalp.

It shouldn't have felt pleasant, not when those were the hands of someone they despised.

“Are you going to continue?”

"Right..." They cleared their throat, a strange heat against their cheeks. It was stark, out of place. They ignored it. "Where was I...?"

FURINA

[Name] stared across the ballroom, a drink in their hand. On the opposite side, a woman in a blue dress tipped back her head in a laugh and held her hand over her mouth. It wasn’t her true laugh, the one that sounded like tumbling waves and sweeping currents. It was the specially curated laugh she made for laughing at jokes she didn’t find funny, in front of people she didn’t like.

Furina turned, catching their eye. She smiled, far too casually, and raised a hand in a tiny wave. For the first time in a while, she wasn’t wearing her gloves, leaving the skin of her hand exposed.

They didn’t need to ponder what the feeling of that hand in theirs was like, after holding it countless times, until the weight of it caused phantom pains in their wrist. They didn’t have to wonder about her lips on their cheek, or her arms around their waist, when they were sensations that had been burned into their skin.

They averted their eyes, instead of returning the wave. There wasn’t any point dwelling on the past, or exchanging pleasantries with their ex-lover.

Maybe if they had been informed of her presence ahead of time, they wouldn’t have come. That way, they’d never had the chance to do something as foolish as reminisce on people as painful as Furina. But Navia—sweet, kind, oblivious Navia—had invited them, unaware of their messy break-up.

The split wasn’t either of their faults. ‘Grown apart’, could be used to describe it if you were feeling cliché. Perhaps a more accurate description would be ‘grew too close, until their roots were tangled with each other and their thorns were too deeply buried in each other’s sides, that removing them would hurt more than letting the relationship fester.’ It was a classic tragedy; two flawed people clinging desperately to each others’ side, until the haze of romance cleared and said flaws drove them apart.

The split was mutual, made for both their sakes. That didn’t mean it didn’t sting when their lives—previously entangled and interwoven with each other—were torn into two. Suddenly they were alone, and half of their existence had up and left.

It hurt, the split. But they knew staying would hurt more.

“Excuse me,” The voice was so soft, so excruciatingly familiar that if they kept looking away, they could convince themself it was just a hallucination. “[Name].”

They couldn’t. They couldn’t do it. At least while staring into their drink, they could enjoy the voice as a pleasant dream.

“[Name], please.”

But they never were strong enough to resist her, were they?

Their resolve crumbled like sand. They looked over, and there she was: as breathtaking as she looked the day they first met her.

“Hi,” She whispered. It was one word, and all too much.

“Hey,” They respond, keeping their voice low to seclude the conversation to the corner of the room.

“How have you been?” Furina asked. They tried not to let their face fall at the words. Before they broke up, there wasn’t a need for small talk, or even greetings for that matter. Their conversations would taper off into quietness or end completely, and they would pick right back up the next time they spoke. Questions of how they were, or dull observations about the weather had no room to fill the silence, when that space was filled with a comfortable kind of quiet.

“I’ve been well.” Far too stiff. The old [Name], the one that was Furina’s lover, would never let themself be so formal with her.“And yourself?”

“…Well, as well.”

In an effort to fill the awkward silence, they blurted out “I heard about your…” What was it exactly? Demotion? Abdication? Dismissal? “…I heard what happened. About how you’re not the Hyrdo Archon anymore.”

“Ah, yes, I figured you would have heard about that.” She rolled her eyes, part of her mask slipping. “There isn’t a person here who hasn’t…”

They cringed inwardly at how their choice of conversation made the silence even more uncomfortable. “So… what are you doing over here?”

She grinned in relief at the topic change. “Darling, we’re at a party; there’s one obvious thing we could be doing.”

“What’s that?”

Furina extended her hand, folding the other behind her back. She smiled coyly, a million words dancing on the tip of her tongue, all unsaid. “Well, the reason I came over here, of course. Will you dance with me?”

Letting the conversation lead on this long was dangerously close to letting her back into their life. But what was a little more danger, when the music was so sweet and Furina was offering the chance so freely? It was just a dance, nothing more.

They placed their drink down on a nearby waiter’s tray, and took her hand.

Furina’s lips parted into an O, momentarily surprised by their willingness, but she quickly recovered. She tugged on their hand to bring them further into the centre of the room, taking one of their hands and placing it on her waist, and intertwining her fingers with the other.

She swept them across the floor, twirling and spinning past the rest of the couples. One step forward, a step back. They let go of her waist to spin her in a circle and she let out a giggle, sounding like waves crashing on the shore. The sound made them breathless.

Furina replaced her arms around their waist, stepping so close that they were only a breath away.

Their eyes drifted to the windows, reflecting the ballroom. In it, they could see all of the couples pressed together, while the orchestra played tirelessly off to the side. In the centre was one pair that fell directly under the ballroom’s chandelier lights, a beautiful woman in a blue dress, and… well, them. Beyond that, they could see the night sky in the background: hundreds of shining stars and a full moon staring back at them.

“The sky is so pretty,” They whisper.

“It’s beautiful,” Furina agrees, not taking her eyes off them.

The song ended, fading off in place of a more upbeat tune. Furina didn’t remove her hands from their waist, barely acknowledging the change. It wasn’t quite dancing by then, simple swaying in place with her arms around them. They didn’t care enough to move.

“Would you like to have tea with me, sometime?” Furina asked. The words were more than an invitation; they were the keys left in the lock, letting them through and back into her life if they so pleased. An I don’t think that’s a good idea would be easy. A no would be easier. Instead, all they said was, “I would like that.”

reblogs and comments are appreciated! ♡

[fernsnailz]

Born to Fail. Something about a lot of your more serious art almost always leaves me feeling empty in a way I can never quite describe. It’s a feeling I look for whenever I consume media so that I can have a better chance of understanding it. Maybe it’s the feeling of someone splitting me open like a butterfly and feeling the wind blow across my exposed insides. That’s the best way I can describe what it feels like when a piece of art understands a part of myself that I don’t really like and that I wish would go away. A part of myself that I instinctively tried to bury. But art like this tears it out of the ground that had long since settled over top of it, where the grass had never grown back because it poisoned the soil where it was buried. Burying it might have felt better at the time, but it feels far more liberating to lay those feelings bare and actually face them head on rather than having to deal with an ever-present dull ache. The feeling of hating someone because they are who you fear becoming, whether or not you might be happier if you accepted the parts of yourself that you hate in that other person. The feeling of hating yourself because you fear that you’re failing the purpose that was chosen for you. The feeling of hating yourself because you can’t escape certain parts of yourself that you aren’t sure whether are flaws or just fundamental parts of yourself that you only think are flaws because they don’t fit the false perception of yourself that you've built up in your head based on what you think you have to be. The you that you've grown so attached to. The feeling of hating the world because it just won’t let you win, and then realizing that all of the hate was pointless because the goal would have never made you happy and it was never attainable in the first place. The feeling of hating yourself because you make so many people uncomfortable because of a part of yourself that you can’t control, that you hate, but once again aren’t sure of how key it is to who you are. Thank you for making this. Anyways, it’s 3:00 AM; I’m going to go to bed now.

But before I do that, let me just say, I love how expressive Gemerl is. I never realized that the bulb in his forehead crest was meant to be an eye, but it makes so much sense and is so cool. I also love Eggman just being evil. Not evil in a goofy moustache-twirling kind of way. Eggman actually being a truly terrible person. It’s so investing. Thank you again for making this.

thank you so much for reading!! those difficult questions of identity are an aspect of born to fail I wanted to put a strong focus on - the question of what is truly YOU, and whether or not you can live with the aspects of yourself that you may hate. it’s a difficult reality to face, and i wanted to show that each of these characters confront it in their own way.

and yeah i really love making gemerl expressive AND really leaning into the aspects of eggman that are truly evil. his position as a creator, a visionary, even a father - it was interesting to explore how these aspects of him bear over some of the robots and mess them up. i have so many thoughts about eggman. his drive and cold intellect can make him terrifying and he’s incredibly good at deliberately manipulating the people under him, but he gets caught up in he is own ego to the point of stupidity SO often and it’s such an interesting thing to balance when writing him. so so much fun figuring that guy out

[lullabyalikpoptarot]

Seventeen (Dance Unit) Ideal Partner

Okay, going to finish up their ideal partner with the dance line, so I can get to their Boyfriend reading. So, let's see what they have for their ideal partner.

Junhui (The Angel) His ideal partner is someone kind, loving and caring. Someone who is very supportive of him. Someone who gives to others with no expectations at all. Someone with a cute and sweet appearance. Okay, he did not give me a lot here, so I asked for another and got the Knight card, so someone loyal, honorable and devoted to him, someone romantic as well. So, his ideal is someone who will give their all to him and be very supportive to him.

Hoshi (Visionary) Okay, this boy gave me a lot of cards but chose this one. He would want someone pretty similar to him in this regard. Someone creative. Someone who has a lot of visions and dreams. Someone who knows what they want to do out of life. That they can envision something and then go after it. He would want someone with a creative mind and someone who had lots of goals in life. He would want someone prophetic, that word popped up, but had no clue what that meant, so someone who can predict the future and knows what their future will hold. I am not sure he is interested in someone who is psychic, but someone who has a future, or truly believes they can make their dreams come true and makes it happen, but maybe he wants someone psychic too lol Oh, he shared a lot lol

Minghao (Rebel) This kind of surprised me, but him being a Scorpio I guess not lol He was someone different, who breaks the mold, someone who stands out for him. Probably someone not traditional. He wants someone authentically themselves who is not afraid to be different. He may want someone who stands for change. Like for him you will have to stick out and not be like others. He would want someone who is not molded by others. I see him liking a rebellious type, not your clean and proper person. This gives me Aquarius/Leo energy. Although, this being an ideal, not sure how well this will work for him. I will be interested to see what type of partner he needs when I get there.

Dino (Victim) Interesting card for an ideal. He may like someone who has been through it, who has faced challenges. He may not want someone privileged, who did not live a hard life. As he has probably dealt with difficulties in life, he may want someone who understands his struggles. He will also want someone mentally strong who can handle life's difficulties. He may not want someone who wallows and whines about things in life. He would want someone who can overcome life's difficulties. He would want someone who understands life sucks but doesn't dwell on it for too long. He would want someone with good coping strategies.

[la-pheacienne]

On the meaning of "Misérable"

"The point of departure, like the point of arrival, for all his thoughts, was hatred of human law; that hatred which, if it be not arrested in its development by some providential incident, becomes, within a given time, the hatred of society, then the hatred of the human race, then the hatred of creation, and which manifests itself by a vague, incessant, and brutal desire to do harm to some living being, no matter whom. It will be perceived that it was not without reason that Jean Valjean’s passport described him as a very dangerous man".

Les Misérables, Volume 1, Book 2, Chapter 7, The Interior of Despair

"First of all, even before examining himself and reflecting, all bewildered, like one who seeks to save himself, he tried to find the child in order to return his money to him; then, when he recognized the fact that this was impossible, he halted in despair. At the moment when he exclaimed “I am a wretch!” he had just perceived what he was, and he was already separated from himself to such a degree, that he seemed to himself to be no longer anything more than a phantom, and as if he had, there before him, in flesh and blood, the hideous galley-convict, Jean Valjean, cudgel in hand, his blouse on his hips, his knapsack filled with stolen objects on his back, with his resolute and gloomy visage, with his thoughts filled with abominable projects. Excess of unhappiness had, as we have remarked, made him in some sort a visionary. This, then, was in the nature of a vision. He actually saw that Jean Valjean, that sinister face, before him. He had almost reached the point of asking himself who that man was, and he was horrified by him".

Les Miserables, Vol. 1, Book 2, Chapter 13, Little Gervais

Continuing my post on the greek translation of the title of Les Misérables, what's interesting here is the phrase "I am a wretch!". It's interesting because in french it's "Je suis un misérable!". The greek translator chooses to use the greek word "athlios" here, the same one he used for the title of the book, and I think that was a good choice. I don't understand why the english translator replaced the word "miserable" with the word "wretch", probably because the word "miserable" does not exactly convey what Valjean describes himself as in this particular chapter? "Miserable" does not necessarily have a deeply pejorative connotation, whereas the word "wretch" means both "an unfortunate or unhappy person" and "a despicable or contemptible person". Maybe the differences are small but in my mind the two words just feel different. Here the french word "misérable" is used in the latter sense, I think (= despicable and contemptible person) so "wretch" does feel closer to that.

However, it would be important to use the same word as the title, because Hugo clearly wanted to associate both Valjean's particular state of mind and the objective situation he was in with the title of the book. That's why Valjean exclaims "Je suis un misérable!". That's what the book is about. And what is that? A "very dangerous man", a "hideous" ex convict with "abominable" thoughts, a man "horrified" by himself. He's not just miserable, he's not just poor, he's not even just an outcast. He's not just rejected by society because it's not just society that hates him. It's that he has truly actually become a hateful human being, capable of the worst, so much that he is horrified by himself. He is a man who steals little kids and attacks the only person that has treated him with kindness, contemplating whether or not to crush his skull. That's the very essence of what a "Misérable" is in the context of this book.

Final note (disclaimer, I'm not at all specialized in translations or in languages, that's just my superficial opinion): After a brief comparison of the greek and the english translation with the french text, what I can say is that globally the use of some words, phrases, expressions in greek just hits different in ways the english vocabulary can't always convey, and that's probably because of the particularity of the greek language, mainly the syntactic versatility and the richness of the vocabulary. That is why it is practically impossible to find the exact equivalent of "Athlios" (greek word for misérable) in english because that word alone has a very particular magnitude, meaning both miserable and despicable in equal measure. However, what the english translator maybe lacks in "depth", he gains in rigor and scrupulousness, I think, because our guy is not very meticulous lol (not a surprise culturally we are not famous for that). So I definitely do not want to discredit the english translation.

[ckret2]

Failed to resist the urge to post a snippet from chapter 16. This is my way of 🤝ing @godsfavoritescientist over the "grieving ex-worshiper who never figured out how to fill the gap left by a false god" Ford characterization.

Ford didn't move. He was still staring at the neon sign of an eyed triangle hanging in the psychic shop's window.

Did the "psychic" who ran this shop actually know what that symbol meant, Ford wondered? Did Bill have a worshiper here? Perhaps just another believer who'd been recruited by one of the micro-cults Bill left in his wake, five degrees removed from a former "student" that Bill had "inspired" and then abandoned half a century ago? Or had Bill met them in their dreams? Had he been summoned up to give them knowledge of the future—did they remember Bill as the central figure in a visionary dream that now made up the core of their spirituality? Maybe he'd visited them more than once, while trying to decide whether they'd be useful to him? Perhaps he'd been grooming the fortune teller into his minion, feeding them lines he wanted to pass on to a local politician or scientist? Did he ever play board games with them?

Did they worship him still?

Did they know their god was dead?

####

There'd been an ache in Ford's chest for over thirty years—an empty pit that once held awe—a dark void that used to be filled with starlight. Ford knew now that, metaphorically speaking, the divine light Bill put off had never been anything but optical illusions with flashlights and mirrors. But even so—even so, nothing and nobody had inspired such sublime wonder in Ford since.

During his lowest moments out in the multiverse, starving and exhausted and despairing, he'd irrationally wondered if the unimpressable depression left in Bill's wake was evidence that Bill had been truly that great, too great for a human like Ford to understand, and the shadow cast on his life in Bill's absence was the natural consequence of turning away from something godlike.

Ford had gotten over that. He'd recovered, he'd grown. He understood the truth: Bill's parlor tricks had dazzled his eyes so thoroughly that now he couldn't detect the subtler glimmer of the truly wondrous. He wondered if his eyes would ever adjust to the dark again.

Whether he liked it or not, he missed the way mind-blowing awe felt. He missed being dazzled. 

There were days when he wasn't sure what he resented Bill for more: vomiting so much glittery garbage into his soul, or stopping.

[mouwrites]

Could you write a Cole x fem reader? I headcanon Cole having synesthesia so maybe a oneshot about him loving the colors of her voice?

My goodness,, I love that headcanon!! I swear you guys are the most brilliant visionaries...

Word count: 505

Ninjago - Cole Loving the Colors of Your Voice

It was a cozy evening. You were cozied up with your laptop on your lap, scrolling mindlessly as you rambled on about one of your obsessions. Cole was sitting close by, wrapped in a thick blanket and gazing at you dreamily. A soft smile graced his lips as he nodded along to your narrative.

You loved when he’d let you explain your interests to him; you often mused to yourself that he just liked the sound of your voice, but you were grateful for a listening ear anyhow. 

You wrapped up one concept, catching a glance at Cole before thinking of what to talk about next. The look in his eyes made you pause. 

He noticed that you noticed his staring. “I love the colors of your voice right now,” he offered in explanation.

Now you were curious. Closing your laptop, you gave him a look that said tell me more. You knew that he had synesthesia, but he rarely ever spoke about it. So of course it piqued your interest when he implied that he could see your voice. 

“I mean, I always love how your voice looks. In the morning it’s like a gouache painting, with all these muted natural colors muddling together. Almost like a pond. When you get a little more energy, like right now, it’s so colorful. Vivid orange. Royal blue. Grass green. Swirling and jumping around like a sea of rabbits.” As he spoke, he got a far-off look in his eyes, as if he were envisioning it now.

“Even when you’re talking about something you find boring, the colors are still amazing. They’re drab—usually just black and gray, actually—and they don’t move, but it’s kind of like a blurry black and white picture. Articulate, in a way.”

You were staring at him with stars in your eyes. The way he described things was just so poetic. You wished you could see what he saw; it sounded magical. “Wow,” you breathed.

“Yeah. It’s… it’s just amazing.”

“Is that what all sounds are like for you?”

“No. Just your voice. Other voices have more consistent hues, and some of them don’t even move. I’m actually not sure why yours is so colorful, but I love it.”

“So I was right,” you murmured, half to yourself.

“About what?”

“I had a hunch you only let me talk so much because you like the sound of my voice.”

“What? Not at all. I like the look of your voice,” Cole teased, making you both giggle. “But I promise I always try to listen.”

You hummed, setting down your laptop and leaning in closer. Cole repositioned himself so that you were leaning back on the sofa together, you on his chest, his arms around your middle.

“Please,” he implored, “keep talking.”

With a twinkle in your eye, you recalled what you wanted to gush about next. The hearts in his eyes were now mirrored in yours when you spoke; his beautiful mind was truly enchanting—almost as enchanting as your voice was to him.

Thank you for your request, sorry this was a little short! But thanks for reading, take care you little geniuses <33

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM BATMAN *  assorted dialogue from the 1989 film

i want you to do me a favor.

i know who you are.

can you pass the salt?

why is it every time i come for you, somebody always gets in the way.

who do you trust?

are we gonna try to love each other?

i thought i was a pisces!

i like you a lot.

you know what they say?

that wasn't easy to get over, and don't think that i didn't try.

he stole my balloons!

i'm sorry, this is my cab.

i've gotta go to work.

perhaps you could try telling them the truth.

i love that tie.

listen, i was here first!

pardon me, but that's not a denial.

nice outfit!

if you gotta go, go with a smile.

i'm only laughing on the outside.

shall we dance?

what? what are you talking about?

it's an important job.

my life is really... complex.

i mean, how childish can you get?

i don't know if it's art, but i like it!

i've been dead once already.

i'm gonna need a minute or two alone.

who the hell are you?

i've recently had a tragedy in my life.

i have no wish to fill my few remaining years grieving for the loss of old friends.

they say he drinks blood.

oh, you're a visionary.

they don't make them like they used to.

you idiot! you made me!

i don't seem to be on the guest list.

you wanna get nuts? come on. let's get nuts.

i always ask that of my prey.

you killed my parents.

they're not bad people.

i thought champagne would be in order.

what are you?

will you marry me?

you look fine.

maybe we can cut a deal.

they love you a lot.

i'm not going to kill you.

i say... you're full of shit.

i'm not a bit surprised.

come on, you gruesome son of a bitch!

i just like the sound of it.

what are you laughing at?

take your camera.

i'm glad you're dead.

what do you want?

oh thank god you're alive.

hey, let's beat it.

we'll just shake hands and that'll be it.

grab it. whatever you do, don't let go.

right now, shut up.

feel free to drop in.

i'm going to kill you!

i don't like it up here.

oh, i got a live one here!

as you can see, i'm a lot happier.

now that's good work!

you know why they're so odd?

will you buy me lunch?

i didn't ask.

i like them already.

i couldn't find my socks without them.

you wouldn't hit a guy with glasses on, would you?

if you could see inside, i'm really crying.

you must be joking.

nobody wants a war.

you can quote me on that.

i've got to get you to the church on time.

if anyone else calls you beast, i'll rip their lungs out.

where does he get those wonderful toys?

don't kill me! don't kill me!

how do you know?

is that what you heard?

well, i'm in trouble now.

i love a good party.

let's broaden our minds.

what a dick.

i'd say we break into the place, trash the office, and make off with the records and say it was industrial espionage.

i make art until someone dies.

this house and all this stuff really doesn't seem like you at all.

honey, you'll never believe what happened to me today.

wait 'til they get a load of me.

can we get somebody else to do this?

what if we say no?

you say such beautiful things.

the pen is truly mightier than the sword.

some people say the same thing about you.

i mean, let's face it. you're not exactly normal, are you?

do i look like i'm joking?

you must be insane.

i'm reading your stuff.

i'm no picasso, but do you like it?

so what brings you here?

life's been good to me.

stop the press! who is that?

shut up and listen!

don't flatter yourself.

haven't you ever heard of the healing power of laughter?

i want you to tell all your friends about me.

it's time to retire!

brought you a little snack.

[shuenkio]

You should so do a camboy reader x jungwon fic :3 Maybe something along the lines of Jungwon finding out his best friend he's been crushing on does those type of videos, but he's not against it and in fact wanted to be the one to made him moan and cum like in those livestream videos Maybe size difference kink too! with Jungwon obviously having the bigger dick hehe ^_^ Also tune into tripleS' Visionary Vision full album that's out on the 23rd! they're truly the queens of 5th gen girl groups

Yas, you're really cooking 🫨 although I'm not familiar with the cam boy thingy however I assume it's a streamer who y'know nyeah, and YAS size kink also run through in ma blood, I'm gonna cooking thiss 👩🏻‍🍳

Will start working next week ^^

[an-au-blog]

I'll take Sanon lmao.

Listen Sora has this warlord wrapped around her goddamned finger and Mihawk knows it, Sanji teases him for it. So when Sora enacts a family picture day maybe about six months to a year after they arrive they agree. The photo looks like those royal family portraits that go viral a couple times a year. The difference through the years is Mihawk is more open in them, Sora and Sanji look healthier and Sanji grows. The difference hits when they take photos at Baratie and Sanji is in his work uniform.

Mihawk spoils the both of them, he gets Sanji his first set of really nice chef knives and he finds a tiara in a treasure so he places it carefully on Sora's head as she giggles. Sanji is a better cook than both of them, Sora will sword fight Mihawk and she's decent, nowhere near his level but she can. Sanji's flexibility has led him to several instances of getting stuck in some tight spaces in the castle when he was outrunning the humandrills. Sora has evidence of at least two instances on film. Mihawk asks him every time if he's learned his lesson when the answer every time is no but Sanji lies to his face and says yes.

Bonus Points: when Zoro appears and they add him and Perona and the best looking wanted poster of Sanji that's out to the family photos. Perona enjoys dolling up for these and Mihawk has to force Zoro into looking presentable.

Thanks for letting me name you haha,

I think their little swordfights would be so cute, they're fighting close combat and she'll give him a little wink, he'll pretend to get distracted and give her the upper hand just for a bit.

The thing with the portraits made me amile like an idiot especially the bonus bit :') Tho I think I'd be cute if during the two years of training, they managed to get Zoro and Perona to agree on an actual portrait. Maybe they pinned the wantef poster of Sanji next to one of their heads on the painting to feel like he's there hahaha

Also do you think they have cute little tea-time dates? I think it'd be adorable, the clock strikes 3 and Mihawk just drops everything he's been doing because "Ah, it's tea time..." and just goes to have a drink with biscuits or something, idk??? sounds a bit like something he'd do????

Sanji getting stuck in tight spaces is so canon to me! Sanon, you're truly a visionary. I can actually see him trying to craw through a vent or get through the gate bars or something and just standing there for what feels like hours because he can't get out. Like Sora sees him and goes all "Sanji, what happened, again???" and Sanji just kinda not wanting to answer on the verge of tears just shaking his head.

[viveela]

you are a visionary for npd kyle ive never thought about it and at first i was like i dont think so? then thought about it for a few minutes and now i keep thinking about it. yeah. yeah he totally is.

Tyyy!! I was a bit worried bringing it up since the moment people hear npd they get all y'know on edge and start thinking of it in a villain/monsterous person perspective...but stigmatization aside I really think that's what he's got. Also he's my favorite, so I'm not proposing this in a bad way.

Maybe I'll make a whole post exploring it some day, but it truly does adds up, thanks for thinking on it!

[omegalomania]

ive got a one free sincere poetical diatribe coupon that expires this week so im cashing it in on waxing lyrical about my favorite band for a minute cause im stupidly sleep deprived and its gonna be a long night so

the thing is this.

the thing is that maybe there isnt quite magic in this world but theres something to be said for the pure unfettered serendipity of a million little things conspiring to have certain peoples paths cross and the way this can change entire worlds. maybe i dont believe in magic but i believe in the unshakable fucking certainty that a 17 year old joe trohman had when he met a 17 year old patrick stump in a bookstore by sheer chance and listened to his demos and Knowing that he should sing despite patrick not being a singer and not particularly wanting to sing. i believe in the stone cold rock solid belief this kid had in this other kids voice to the point where he dragged his buddy over to his house to prove he had the pipes they needed. i believe in pete wentz hearing patrick stump sing in person for the first time and realizing wait, yeah, actually hes our golden fucking ticket. i believe in the last second just before patrick was about to get on the kit to record the drums for take this to your grave, andy hurley comes swinging in fresh from recording an ep with another band and knocking out every drum part damn near flawlessly. i believe in a band of scrappy dumb punk kids who grew up in the suburbs of the midwest and took over the world and didnt plan for any of it to get as big as it did. i believe in this weird fucking band with their weird fucking idiosyncrasies, this band of four guys who dont look like they should be friends let alone making music together: a heavily tattooed vegan straightedge beefcake drummer, the ambitious visionary bassist with the 50-megawatt grin, the tattoo-sleeved lanky guitarist with an inescapable rock 'n roll bent, the pixie-pale and painfully anxious frontman with the voice of a soul singer.

i believe theres a special kind of chemistry that only makes sense with the four of them, together. its the guy with the visuals and the words, this bassist who was supposed to be a lawyer or a star soccer player but instead crafts stories from the narratives he crafts in his head. its this guitarist with his love for the interleaving of sounds and ability to seamlessly jump from front-facing to incredibly restrained and his indelible blues-rock momentum. its this singer who never intended to sing but whose soaring, clear tenor is so utterly distinct that he quickly became one of the most iconic and versatile vocalists in the genre, if not in the world of music in general. its this hardcore drummer who pulls everything together and forms the throbbing heartbeat of the band, whose grit-edged metalcore backbone not even the poppiest of all pop choruses can truly file away.

i believe in this: andy hurley's unshakable faith that the band would reform during the hiatus, despite all evidence to the contrary. patrick stump writing the song that would become "miss missing you" for his solo record but then setting it aside because it didnt feel like it was for him, again, despite every indication that for all anyone knew, fall out boy was done for good. pete wentz, moved by a miserable blog post from his split-up bands singer, reaching out and sparking what was unheard of, especially for bands like them - a renaissance, a successful resurgence, and one of the best comebacks any musical act can say theyve had in decades. joe trohman picking up the phone and preparing to tell patrick stump that he wasn't ready to go back and do the band again if he wasn't going to be writing music, only for patrick to take the words out of his mouth and insist that he should be writing more and he was too talented a writer for them not to allow him space for that.

i believe in the little things. i believe in a band that was never expected to last a summer but has become an indelible part of music history, naysayers be damned. i believe in the unique chemistry of four guys who have no monetary or logistical reason to continue doing this thing aside from the fact that they love it so - they love the process of creating with one another, and they love the car crash hearts whose hearts beat in sync with theirs. i believe in joe listening to the first pass of "fake out" exactly once, picking up an acoustic guitar, and walking into record the instrumentation that ultimately pulled the entire song together in one take without thinking twice about it. i believe in andy simply knowing that "heaven, iowa" would make the final cut of the record despite patricks reticence and his not knowing how to make the song something he could say he was proud of. i believe in pete pouring some of his most vulnerable feelings into his, fearful of how well they will be accepted but making that leap nonetheless, only for the crowds to sing every single word back to him.

maybe theres no such thing as magic or fate and maybe theres no point. but i think of stardust. i think of four guys who poured so much love and time into this record and named it for stardust and i think of them as this: fistfuls of cosmic dust who all sprang from the same etiology. i think of them and its a romantic fucking notion but i allow myself this, i entertain the thought that when the cosmos formed and the detonation of planets and the dissolution of comets created that far-flung scatter of so much (for) stardust, that starry residue liberally dotting the broad span of the black, the four of them all came from the same origin point and like magnets ended up snapping together and thats the way theyve stayed. for years. for decades.

what i guess im trying to say is this: when the universe formed we all came from stardust and we will all return to stardust and i cant help but wonder if those four guys all came from the same stardust too.

like i said. its a romantic fucking notion. i believe in the little things though. and you know what they say about believers (never die).

[uh-niran-really]

IM BACCKK!!

Fem READER X NIRAN WITH SYMWEAVER 😈😈 CUZ IM EVIL

😼back in the academy they have a small little party where they get drunk and shii, niran gets intoxicated asf (satya isnt ofc ofc) and gets dragged into a game called 7 minutes in heaven 😈 she doesnt know what this game is but joined for the sake of niran

Obvi niran and satya get paired up and put in a closet, satya being worried asf while reader is outside heartbroken that her long time crush niran is gonna be making out with his best friend

(Niran likes reader btw! Keep that in mind. 😈)

Satya also has a crush on niran tho😈

So when he explains to her what the game is about while making advances on her she doesnt stop him, feeling a hint of guilt knowing he loved reader but is currently making out with him

So huge steamy make out session with symweaver

And when the timer rings they open the closet doors to see niran on top of her in a heated make out session

Reader ends up having a panic attack and trying to run away, not wanting to stay there any longer

Niran looks back to the crowd and sees reader leaving before looking back at satya, cursing himself as he realizes what hes just done 🙏

Reader, in a bad mental, while hyperventilating and shaking, tries to commit, stabbing herself and bleeding out, crying out from the pain bc it wasnt an immediate death

Niran eventually finds her and hes terrified, feeling himself about to throw up but forces himself to stop and try to walk over to reader without falling to try and help, hes crying, calling out to help not being able to do anything himself bc hes tipsy, he holds her body close while he cries and apologizes to her as she loses consciousness.

Woosh transition to her hospital bed

And reader doesnt make it.. :00

Reader dies and niran breaks down over it, screaming and making a mess out of his lab, when satya hears the news and sees the mess she's heartbroken and starts to have a breakdown, it feels like it lasts forever, but even after its been hours and hours niran never left his room, Satya finally gets the energy to stand up and shakily walk over to niran's lab only to see him on the floor, bleeding out slowly as he cradled a photo of him and reader together, apologies after apologies falling from his mouth, never ending, satya cries, a gut wrenching scream coming out of her as she does everything she can to save him, to get him help. But he eventually dies in her arms, telling her it wasnt her fault and that he just wanted to be with reader again. 🥲🥲🥲

Fem Reader x Lifeweaver (Featuring NSFW SymWeaver) - Seven Minuets in Heaven

Content: Heavy angst, major character death, suicide, NSFW themes, Minors DNI!!

Word count: 4,100+

A/N: Okay so I took your SymWeaver steamy make out session and added a little bit of… spice to it. I got carried away with them, they are my OTP, I couldn’t not give Satya some fun! She pays for it though, if that’s any comfort to you! As always, these prompts give me so much energy. Truly a visionary in the prompt writing community! <3 Enjoy, though I get the feeling you may not. Aha! <3

The music was loud, much to the dismay of Satya who hated loud noises, but Niran was having fun. You watched the pair, giggling at how mismatched they were. The outgoing rich party boy, a drink in his hand, proudly telling everyone in the room how hot they looked, including you. And the shy stoic girl, uncomfortable with the noise and the amount of people in one dorm. She wanted to leave the moment she got here. They were opposites, which made for a fun friendship dynamic in so many ways.

“Niran! You made it!”

“Oh sweetheart, I’ve never been one to turn down a party!”

He was right, then again he WAS the party. You couldn’t have a good time if Niran wasn’t around. His infectious energy affected everyone, maybe except for Satya.

“Did you have to bring Satya though?” One of your roommates asked. “She’s… kinda boring.”

“Oh Satya isn’t boring. I couldn’t leave her at the dorm!” Niran pouted. “Plus, she’s fun, you just need to get to know her.”

“Right… Well.. enjoy the booze I guess.”

Enjoy he would. Soon Niran was drunk, slurring his words and stumbling around. Satya trailed after him, trying her best to help him where she could. She kept asking if she should take him home, but Niran wasn’t interested in going home. He was having so much fun, and wanted to stay.

“Let’s play 7 minuets in heaven!” Someone shouted.

Niran’s ears pricked up and he grinned, seeking you out in the crowd. Oh the things he would do to you in the closet. He watched with eager eyes, waiting to see if you wanted to play, and of course you did. He bit his lip with anticipation. How perfect.

“Satyaaaaa! I’m going to go play too!”

“Bua…”

Niran didn’t let her finish however, he already started to wonder off, leaving the raven haired girl to make a choice. Play too, or stay and watch. She trusted Niran and wanted to show him she could be fun too. She knew what others thought of her, she wanted to be liked. With a deep sigh, she reluctantly joined the game too.

——🪷——

“So we all know how this works, I’m going to pick two people and you get seven minuets in the closet to do whatever you wish!” Your roommate explained.

Satya didn’t understand but she dare not say anything. You and Niran locked eyes for a moment, with you quickly looking away, blushing. Both of you hoped that you’d be paired off together, but time would tell. The lust you felt for one another was off the charts.

“Hmmm let’s see, I want to make this interesting… that’s start with…. Niran!”

The Thai boy grinned, licking his lips a little. Your heart pounded in your chest, threatening to leap out of your throat. You looked at your roommate with such pleading eyes. You had to go in there with him. But your roommate either didn’t get the hint or he didn’t care.

“Hmmmmm…. Oh I know, how about Satya? You two would be an interesting match.”

Satya didn’t understand why people started to gasp and whisper, but she was happy to be paired off with Niran, who certainly didn’t mind. You were crushed though, but apart of you had hope that Satya would refuse Niran, and that they would just sit awkwardly for seven minuets. Maybe chat about their day, maybe say nothing at all. Boring stuff.

“We always get paired together don’t we?” Niran winked at her.

“Yes.”

He took her hand and lead her over to the closet, opening the door for her like the gentleman he was. Nervously she stepped inside, Niran following in after. It was a small space, forcing them to remain close.

“Let the seven minuets begin!”

As the door closed, Niran pressed her small frame against the wall playing with the bangs of her sleek satin hair, his body so close to her she could smell the alcohol on his breath.

“Niran… what are we meant to do..?”

Her body trembled against him, biting her lip softly, yet she was unsure why she was doing so. Niran smiled at her, her innocence quite adorable.

“Well Satya, this is a kissing game. We get seven heavenly minuets to explore each other’s bodies.”

His hands trailed up her sides and back down, taking note of every curve, the way her skin felt, the way her dress hugged her figure. It was a pretty black BodyCon dress, one she didn’t often to wear, but one Niran had brought for her for parties and social occasions. It had taken some convincing on his part to get her to wear it, but oh was that hard work paying off now.

“Have you ever kissed someone Vaswani?”

He leaned in close to her ear, giving it a playful lick. She shook her head. Every inch of her wanted to turn and bolt, but she had been wanting to kiss Niran for a while, now was her chance. She decided to be brave, and have fun. That’s what Niran always did.

“Judging by the time, we have about six and a half minuets left, if you want to try?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, his lips feathering kisses across her neck and up to her jawline. He waited for her to protest, to beg him to stop, or to even push him away. But she didn’t, delighting him further. She was as stif as a board but he was going to loosen her up. He stepped away from her for a moment looking around the closet for something. She missed the contact, hating on the empty space between them.

“Niran..?”

“Just want to make things comfortable for you Satya.”

He ripped a blanket off its hanger, shaking it out and draping it on the floor. She hated hard wood floors against her skin. They were often dirty and it made her skin crawl. This wasn’t the best case scenario, but it was better than what it was.

Niran dropped to his knees, straightening out the blanket before taking her hand and tugging it, encouraging her to kneel with him. She did, with little hesitation, her heart pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears.

“You’re so pretty Satya, any man would be so lucky to have you. Think of this as….” He eyed her lips, biting his own. They looked incredible. “Experience gained.”

His lips crashed against hers, the stickiness of her lipstick mixed with the glossiness on his own. His tongue poked against her teeth, begging for her to open up for him. The poor girl didn’t know what he wanted, but Niran was happy to help. His hand snaked up around the back of her head, finding her tight bun, tugging it back to make her gasp. His tongue slipped so effortlessly inside her mouth, making her moan against him.

She began to stim with her hands, nerves getting the better of her. His free hand found hers, moving one to his chest, wanting her to touch him. She was a bit embarrassed at first, but felt a little at ease as she felt his hard abs through his thin shirt.

He pushed against her, wanting to lay her down, but again Satya didn’t understand. He pulled away from her lips, wanting to desperately to kiss them again, but he had to command.

“Lay down dearest. It’s most comfortable that way.”

“Okay..”

She reached up and took her hair out of the bun, shaking out the soft curls it gave her, satin locks framing her face in such a way that made her look beautiful. She began to lay back but Niran couldn’t wait, diving on her, lips on her’s, pinning her to the floor in a fiery passionate kiss.

His hands found her breasts, so perky and firm, groping them gently at first before getting rougher with her. His hands felt amazing, so precise. She felt it all through her thin bra, secretly wishing he would just take it off.

“Niran!” She gasped through the kiss, making him chuckle at her.

“Too much dearest?” His lips tickling hers with how close they still were.

He was surprised when she shook her head, so he continued to play with her tits, smirking at the way she gasped and moaned. A part of her felt bad for you. She knew how Niran felt about you, how much he wanted you. The guilt was eating away at her and yet she was so happy.

His lips were on hers again, his cream hair water falling down his face and framing hers for a moment, before she tucked it neatly behind his ear. He ground into her hips feeling himself a little too much in this situation, forgetting where they were. She cried against his lips, a sound he never expected to hear from her. In this moment she decided that she would let him take her, if that’s what he wanted.

With about a two minuets to go until their time was up, he caressed her outer thigh, mentally remarking how soft it was. Her dress had ridden up so high that it was practically a top now, not that he was complaining. His hand slid to her inner thigh teasing her, but she didn’t react negatively, instead bucking her hips up into his touch. Curious fingers found the band of her panties, before he stopped, opening his eyes and pulling away from their kiss yet again.

“You’re soaked, you enjoy my touch this much?”

“Yes..”

“Then you wouldn’t mind if I..”

He slid his hand into her panties, roaming at her entrance to slick his fingers, moving up to rub her clit.

“Oh god Niran!”

“You like that huh?”

He rubbed a little harder loving the way she reacted to him. It was rare to ever see her so worked up like this. She was so hot underneath him like this. He wanted to see her react more.

“Want me to make you cum?”

She nodded before throwing her head back in delight, loving how he toyed and played with her. She bit back moans trying so hard to be quiet and yet she couldn’t help but cry out for him.

“Yeah? How brave of you to take the plunge like that.”

Her body was trembling and he was getting so worked up too. She was so attractive like this. He couldn’t want to make her cum for him. She was so damn close, soft moans spilling from her lips.

“That’s it deares-“

“Okay you two, seven minuets are up!”

The doors flung open and they were caught in the act. Satya squealed in embarrassment, covering her face to hide how red she was. Niran froze, releasing how bad this looked. He had forgotten to keep track of time, he had been so busy toying with her he forgot about the timer.

“Woah! Looks like you guys had fun huh?”

You stared at them both, taking in the sight. Satya’s messy hair and smeared lipstick, her dress around her waist, legs spread around Niran. Her chest rising and falling so rapidly. Niran’s body so close to hers, lips covered in her lipstick, hair equally as messy. His hand dipped inside her panties, so lewd. He was.. pleasuring her. She let him. You watched as he pulled his hand out of her panties, fingers slick with her juices. Both of them blushed with embarrassment now.

“How could you..”

You felt yourself begin to panic, sprinting out of the room in tears. You didn’t want to be there any longer, you couldn’t stand it. The thought of them both so intimate like that disgusted you. Niran watched as you left the room, so evidently crying. He looked back at Satya who wore a look of guilt on her face. He realised then what he had done.

“Fuck..”

——🪷——

Your tears made your vision blurry, but why did that matter anymore. You didn’t want to be here. The imagine of Satya moaning his name as he did such wantonly things to her. You loved him. You were hurting so badly that you just couldn’t cope. The alcohol was getting to you, making you sick with despair. You thought he loved you too. The way he looked at you was so loving, so kind. Why did he do this. Why did he toy with you. You just wanted to go home to bed, but of course your dorm was hosting the party. Instead you lay out in the corridor screaming and sobbing your heart out, your cries drowned out by the loud music.

“Fuck you Niran..”

You had a hair pin holding your hair up in a beautiful style. You practically tore the thing out of your hair, your locks falling out and spilling over your shoulders. It was a gorgeous metal pin, nice and sharp. The perfect instrument to inflict pain on yourself. You often accidentally cut yourself putting it in.

The hysteria you felt drove you mad. You couldn’t take it anymore. The image of them getting frisky burned into your mind. How far would they have gone if they weren’t restricted for time. Would they have gone all the way?

With the hair pin held in your hand, you brought it down on your thigh, screaming out in pain, before yanking it free. Blood spilt from the wound, trickling down your inner and outer thigh, pooling on the white marble floor. You for sure hit the femoral artery, a fatal strike if not treated quickly. The blood loss was immense, it almost scared you. You kept crying out from the throbbing pain in your thigh. It hurt so badly, and yet not as bad as the pain in your chest. You stabbed again and again, losing your sanity a little more each time.

——🪷——

Niran stumbles down the corridor calling out your name. His body too drunk to move all that quickly. He calls out to you again, wishing you would answer him. He’s worried sick and it’s made worse when he remembers your face and how it looked when you saw him and Satya in the closet.

“Y/N.. please.. wher-“

Blood. So much blood. It was everywhere. It looked like a murder scene. Your right shoulder lay against the wall, your back to him, sitting in a pool of your own blood. He stumbled over to you, the fear made him nauseous. Your gorgeous thighs had been stabbed multiple times, a long sharp hairpin lay close by. He screamed realising that you had done this to yourself.

“NO! NO NO NO!!! Y/N!”

He dropped to his knees and pulled you into his arms, cradling your body close to him. He didn’t know what to do. His mind clouded by the alcohol. Gently he tapped your cheek begging for you to open your eyes.

“Y/N!! No please!! PLEASE!! WHY DID YOU DO THIS!! PLEASE SOMEONE!! HELP ME!!”

You do open your eyes but they look so lifeless and dead. He stares into them, his own pleading with you to keep yours open.

“I’m sorry.. I’m so sorry.. forgive me… please… I need you..”

You gasp softly as if choking and he sits you up, blood splattering from your mouth, which only terrifies him more. He rubs your back as he sobs. He’s terrified and doesn’t know what to do. You’re bleeding out too fast, too many wounds to cover. You were slipping through his grasp.

“It was a mistake… I don’t love her.. I love you!! SHE WAS A MISTAKE!! A STUPID AWFUL DRUNKEN MISTAKE!!”

You begin to lose consciousness again, head lulling back, eyes rolling. He held you close, screaming again for someone to help him. You were going to die. He couldn’t do a thing.

“Don’t go… PLEASE DON’T GO!!”

——🪷——

Beeeeeeeeeep. A flatline. Something he never wanted to hear. You had lost too much blood and your heart had stopped. He watched in horror as doctors attempted to restart your heart, but with no luck.

“Time of death 04:02 am”

He sat devistated watching the flatline, begging for your heart to start up again. He couldn’t lose you. He had sobered up a lot in the last few hours, making the emotional pain so much worse.

When your heart didn’t restart, he bolted out of the room. He couldn’t be there anymore. He couldn’t stand it. His drunken antics with Satya had cost your life. All this because he wanted some carefree fun. He got to his lab, he didn’t know why he came here, but he found himself trashing the place in anger, fear, devastation. He shredded his notes, flipped the tables, smashed a prototype.

“FUCKKK!!! AHHHHHHHHHH!!!” His fist punched a hole in the wall, splitting his knuckles open, the crimson liquid spilling all over the floor. Why did you leave. He spots a picture of you both, frame broken from the fall, it’s all he had left.

——🪷——

Satya’s head still spun from the previous night. She had woken up with flushed cheeks and memories of the way Niran had touched her. The way he made her feel was like nothing she had ever felt before. Butterflies paced around in his stomach as she remembered the way his fingers felt against her skin. If only they weren’t interrupted. Would they have done it? Gone all the way together? She blushed deeper, burying her head in her pillow, trying not to let these thoughts take over.

Satya had liked Niran for a while, but after last night she felt something new. A type of yearning for him. She started to daydream of all the things he could have done last night, realising she would be okay with all of them. She thought about you, and guilt forced itself upon her. Still, it couldn’t be helped. She just hoped that you and Niran had talked things out. He didn’t come home last night, he was probably in bed with you. It hurt, but she understood. Nothing could have prepared her for the truth though. Her other two roommates sobbing from the terrible news.

“What…?” She surely misheard them.

“Last night.. she killed herself. Niran found her.. it must have been so awful.”

She froze. This had to be a sick joke. You had made it all up to get back at her.. right..? She waited with bated breath to see if you or Niran would jump out and laugh at her. A way to get back at her for last night. But that never came. Instead she found herself returning to her shared room with Niran, collapsing to the floor. Her body shook violently, tears streamed down her face. She had caused this. She was the reason you were dead.

She thought of Niran and the pain he was feeling. Was he okay? Of course he wasn’t okay.. She needed relief from it all. Her head felt like it would pop at any moment. Someone was screaming and she wished they would just stop. It only dawned on her that she was the one screaming when she felt her voice give out. She stayed there for what felt like hours before her mind locked onto one thing.

Niran hadn’t come home.

“NIRAN!!”

She got the strength to stand, a gut feeling that something was wrong. She staggered out the door and out of her dorm, turning towards the labs. Was he there? She had this horrible feeling he would be. She took off running, trying so hard to keep her balance. She had to be there for him.

“BUA?! Are you here?! Nir-“

He was on the floor, bleeding out. He was trying to do the same thing as you. She screamed rushing to his side, watching as his eyes followed her the whole time.

“Hey you..”

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!!”

He moved his hand to show her a deep gash on his stomach. He was clutching a picture in his left hand. The picture of him and you. You both looked so happy. You both were so full of life that day.

“It’s okay.. I’m fine..”

“YOU AREN’T FINE NIRAN!!”

She dropped to the floor, trying her best to help him but she quickly realised that he had done too much damage. He was going to die.

“I’m sorry Satya.. you forgive me right… I’m so sorry…”

She choked on her tears, letting out a pained scream as she held him. She had caused all of this. All because she decided to play a stupid game. The boy she loved was dying in her arms. Was this what he went through last night? It must have been hell.

“I’m so sorry… I never wanted you to find me… I’m so sorry…”

“NO!! WHY DID YOU DO THIS!”

The noise she made next was akin to a wounded animal. It was so guttural and raw. She would have surprised herself had she cared enough about what she sounded like. Instead she tried to patch up his wound, knowing it was pointless. She applied pressure but the blood didn’t stop. She searched the room for something to dress it with but found nothing.

“It’s okay… it’s alright… Will you promise me that you won’t hate me… I’m so sorry..”

“I LOVE YOU!!!” She screamed so loud she nearly winded herself. Tears came harder and she screamed again begging for him not to do this.

“I know.. I know you do..” His bloody hand reached up to cup her face. On some level he almost regret doing this, but on a deeper level, he just couldn’t live without you.

“Please don’t leave.. please… Please Niran..”

“Was I your first..?” It hardly mattered. He was dying anyway, yet he wanted to comfort her.

“Yes… So don’t do this.. fight…”

“I’m glad it was with someone you loved.. I’m going to be with the woman I love now.. it’s selfish.. and I know you’ll hate me.. but…”

“I love you… Why must you toy with my heart Niran Pruksamanee.. It’s all my fault..”

He attempted to smile, lips barely curling. In another life, he was certain that Satya had her Niran. Maybe they were happy. Maybe they weren’t. Maybe there was a Niran out there somewhere who had lost their Satya. The thought made him tear up.

“Not… you.. your… fau…lt…” He wheezed, desperate to finish what he had to say. “I… just… wanted.. her..”

He wanted to say more. He wanted to tell her she was the best roommate he ever had. He wanted to kiss her goodbye or leave her some lasting comfort. Instead he died in her arms, his last words being about you, ultimately making her feel so much worse.

“And I just wanted you…”

She cradled his body for a long time before realising he was gone. When she finally did realise she forced back tears, trying so hard to stay calm. She pulled him close and gave him one last kiss, before laying him down and standing up. She shakily walked to the door, and stepped outside into the hall. The lab was dead silent for a beat. Then all that could be heard were her pained screams from the hallway, so loud and painful she caused a scene. The picture of you and Niran slipping from his fingers and landing in the pool of his own blood.

BONUS

——💎——

“Come now Satya, you aren’t still crying over that coward are you?”

“I’m sorry..”

She looked at Sanjay with a great sadness in her eyes. He had done a lot for her since Niran passed, being her shoulder to cry on, ears to listen, lips to kiss. Lately though he had been so mean. Belittling her every time she mentioned or thought of Niran.

“He’s gone, get over it.”

“Yes Sanjay..”

He treated her like a glorified maid now. She cooked for him. Cleaned for him. Cared for him. At this point she practically dropped out of the academy, but he promised to get her a position under him if she behaved.

“You’re still frowning. Do I have to reprimand you again?”

“No Sanjay.. I’ll be good.”

On some level, she was scared of him. She couldn’t do much about it, who would she turn to. He had been so kind after Niran died. Almost romantic. He older than she was, but he took a liking to her, wanting to build her up into this masterpiece. Her pretty looks were just a bonus. An extra reward for saving her.

“Good. You owe me don’t forget. Oh and honey?”

She looked up at him with sad eyes, trying her best to force a smile. Her body shook with fear as he looked at her with such malice.

“Don’t cry in presence again. You will conform or I will make you. Do I make myself clear? Now be a good little Vishkar employee and fix me some coffee.”

“Y-Yes.. Sanjay..”