#me turning high quality into shit part 2

[candycandy00]

The Doll House - A Toji x Reader Fanfic Part 1

You’re in love with Toji, even after finding out he trains sex dolls at the Doll House. Taking a chance, you sell yourself to the Doll House so he can be your trainer, and you bet him that you can make him fall for you by the end of the training.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Read Geto’s Part Here!

Read Nanami’s Part Here!

Read Sukuna’s Part Here!

Read Gojo’s Part Here!

Read Choso’s Part Here!

On the outskirts of town, there stands a particular shop called the “Doll House”. Inside its walls you can find a “doll” to match any taste you might have. All your desires will be fulfilled, no matter how depraved. Satisfaction is guaranteed! The dolls are exceptionally high quality, thanks to the skillful trainers who work with them twenty-four hours a day, molding them into perfect toys for your enjoyment.

Each trainer has a specialty that they focus on, and they all take great pride in their work. Their methods differ greatly, their approaches vary, but they all follow one rule: never get attached to a doll. After the training is complete, they hand the dolls over to their new owners, and never see them again. However, just once over the course of their careers, trainers are allowed to pick a doll they’ve personally trained and keep her as their own.

AU! Each trainer will get their own story! This is Toji’s. I’m not sure how many parts it will have. If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, let me know! You must be an adult to be tagged! Any feedback whatsoever is adored! I’m keeping the same tag list as Geto’s part. If you’d like to be removed, please let me know!

Note: Consider these parts AU’s within an AU. So you might see Geto with a different doll from the reader in his part, but just consider this an alternate timeline lol. 

Smut. 18+. Short Fem Reader. Cock drunk reader. Age difference (Reader is 20, Toji is 38). Size difference kink. Oral sex. Fingering. Use of aphrodisiacs. Divider by @benkeibear!

You’ll never forget the day you met Fushiguro Toji. It was your first day at your first job, straight out of high school. A job you still have now, over two years later: working the register at a convenience store in town. 

That day, you were still being taught the ropes by a friendly older co-worker. You heard the bell on the door signaling a customer was walking in, and you turned to give them the practiced greeting. What you found was the biggest, tallest, hottest man you’d ever seen in your life. He was quite a bit older than you, with a scar on the corner of his mouth, but he was absolutely ripped and had lovely green eyes. He was wearing simple clothes, sweatpants and a T-shirt that clung a little too tightly to his muscular form. 

At first glance, he was intimidating. He had a dangerous aura to him, and you remember thinking that he could rob the place and not even need a weapon. You glanced at your co-worker, who smiled and whispered, “I know he’s kinda scary, but he’s a regular. Don’t worry.”

You watched the man grab a few snacks and a pack of beer, then bring them to the counter. When he was standing right in front of you, his imposing height was even more noticeable. Especially considering your short stature. 

As you nervously rang up his items, you looked up at him and said, “May I please see your ID?”

You felt silly asking this man for ID to buy beer when he was obviously much older than you, but your co-worker was watching your performance on your first day. You’d been told to always ask for ID, no matter what, when selling alcohol. 

The man didn’t seem offended, thank goodness. He pulled out a wallet and then a drivers license. You stared at it, trying to glean as much information as you could without being weird about it. His name was Fushiguro Toji. Thirty-six years old. Shit, he was old enough to be your dad, exactly twice your age at the time. 

But you’d smiled and thanked him, saying the usual, “Have a nice night!”

He smiled back and said, “You too!” as he walked out the door. And you were a goner.

Over the next few months, Toji came into the store often, at least three or four times a week. You’d finally gotten comfortable enough to start making small talk with him, and a few times he even lingered after paying for his items, just chatting with you. 

There was nothing romantic or even flirty about his attitude towards you. He probably thought you were too young for him. But by this point you were nursing a pretty major crush. There was something about his casual, easy-going attitude that contrasted with his huge size and the intimidating, dangerous vibes he emitted. It drove you wild. 

Everything changed one night, nearly a year after you started working at the convenience store. You were working alone on a slow night when a man dressed in dark colors, a hood pulled up over his hair, walked in. He lurked in the store for a bit, browsing the magazine rack and then the beverages. When he finally brought a few items up to the counter, you began ringing them up. 

All at once, out of nowhere, there was a large knife pointing at your throat. The man was holding it steadily in his hand as he said, “Empty the register!”

By reflex, you held your hands up in a motion of surrender. “Please, sir, don’t hurt me! I’m just-“

“Empty the fucking register or I’ll stab you in the fucking face!”

With trembling hands, you opened the register and began placing the stacks of money on the counter. Your heart was pounding rapidly, sweat beginning to bead on your forehead, tears threatening to leak from your eyes. You’d never been more terrified in your life. 

There was a button on the underside of the counter that would trigger an alarm system when pressed, but the man was watching your hands intently. You didn’t dare do anything to anger him. Even so, when you were almost finished emptying the register, he suddenly jabbed the knife in your direction, almost stabbing you in the cheek. 

“You pushed the button, didn’t you?!” he demanded, his eyes wild. 

“No! I never touched it! I swear!”

He raised the knife, preparing to slash down at you, but he froze mid swing when the bell on the door jangled. Both of you looked toward the door, only to see Toji walking inside. 

You didn’t know whether to feel relieved or worried. Toji looked strong, but he was unarmed. You didn’t want him to be hurt. 

Toji looked at you, at your frightened face, your hands in front of you in a defensive position, then at the man holding the knife. The situation must have been clear, because Toji’s expression darkened as he stepped toward the counter. 

The man turned his whole body around to face Toji, the knife now pointed away from you. “Stay back!” the man yelled. There was a tinge of fear in his voice. 

“Are you making trouble in my favorite store? For my favorite cashier?” Toji asked, walking at a leisurely pace. “I can’t let that slide.”

Toji disappeared. That’s the only way you could describe it. He moved so fast that it looked like he disappeared and then reappeared right in front of the man, wrenching the knife free and sending it clattering across the floor. Then, in another instant, the man was on his back on the floor, Toji on top of him, giving him a savage beating. 

You watched the scene with a mixture of awe and fear. Toji was grinning as he repeatedly punched the man in the face, blood and even a couple of teeth flying through the air. It was brutal, it was violent… it was insanely hot. 

When the man stopped moving, seemingly unconscious, Toji stood up and approached the counter. “Are you alright?”

You looked up at him, tears in your eyes. You looked down at your own hands and realized they were still shaking. In one fluid motion, Toji jumped over the counter and stood next to you. “Hey, are you hurt? Did he cut you?”

You shook your head, but you couldn’t seem to speak. Instead, you threw yourself into his arms. He patted your back. “It’s okay. You’re okay. I took care of him for you,” he said in a voice far softer than you’d ever heard from him. 

He ended up staying with you until the police arrived, and that’s the night your crush on him ended. From that night on, you were in love with him. 

It would be several months after that when you confided in your friendly coworker about your feelings. She looked at you in shock and said, “Oh honey, don’t you know what he does for a living?” When you said no, she gave you a pitying look before saying, “He works as a trainer at the Doll House.”

That came as a huge surprise to you, and also felt like a knife to your heart. So he spent his days having sex with beautiful women. No wonder he never flirted with you, or seemed to notice at all when you made clumsy attempts to flirt with him. 

But it was too late. You were already in love, and finding out you had even less of a chance with him than you already thought did nothing to dampen your passion. You found yourself fantasizing about being a doll he was training, about being pinned down by his muscular body and fucked all night long. 

You’d only had one boyfriend, back in high school. The few times you’d slept with him had been unsatisfying and underwhelming. In fact you’d barely felt him when he was inside you. It left you wondering what sex would feel like with a guy who knew what he was doing, or a guy big enough to make sure you felt him. Toji was certainly a big guy. So you dreamed about him taking you in his bed, bending you over a table, even about him coming into the store and lifting you onto the counter so you’d be high enough for him to fuck you without bending too far. 

Now, exactly two years after meeting him, your desire for him is at an all time high. You want him. All of him. You want him physically, of course, but you want him emotionally as well. You want to spend hours talking to him, because your chats in the store just aren’t enough. You want to meet his family, find out what his favorite books and movies are, to cook dinner with him, to just… know him. 

And so, without consulting anyone who might talk some sense into you, you decide to do something totally reckless and probably stupid. 

You’ve paid such close attention to Toji’s buying habits that you’ve figured out his patterns. Every six weeks, like clockwork, he buys a pack of beer and extra snacks. Otherwise he avoids alcohol and only buys a few items. Your guess, considering the timing, is that he buys these items when he’s finished training a doll, almost like a reward to himself for a job well done. 

He came in early today and bought the “magic items” as you call them. Which means his doll’s training is complete as of today. Which means he’s available as a trainer. 

After he leaves, you take off early from work and head over to the Doll House. You park on the street and watch as Toji’s car pulls around to the back, then you see him walking toward the front door. 

This is your only chance! If you don’t act now, you’ll have to wait another six weeks, and you don’t think you can do that. 

Steeling your resolve, you get out of your car and hurry over to stop Toji before he goes inside. 

“Excuse me, Toji?”

He stops and turns to face you, a flicker of

surprise on his face. “Hey, what are you doing here?” he asks, his tone friendly. 

You hesitate. You had this all planned out, but standing right here in front of him is making you more nervous than you expected. He’s looking at you curiously, probably wondering why the hell you followed him to his job. In a panic, you just blurt out what you want to say. 

“I’m in love with you!”

“Oh, uh, thanks,” he says. “I’m flattered, but-“

“And I want to be your doll!”

His face seems to freeze. “Huh?”

Your own face is burning with embarrassment, but you’ve come this far. You can’t back out now. “I want to sell myself to the Doll House, if you’ll agree to be my trainer!”

He leans forward and looks at you closely, then asks, “How old are you?”

“I’m twenty,” you answer. 

He sighs and scratches the back of his head. “Go home. This is no place for you.”

You stare up at him, not backing down. “I’m serious about this. I want you to train me.”

His eyes sweep over you, down and back up. It feels like the first time he’s ever looked at you as a woman. “Look, if you want me to fuck you that badly, I can take you out back and rail you in my car. But you don’t wanna be a doll. Trust me.”

It’s tempting to take him up on that offer. But you can’t let yourself get distracted now. “I don’t just want sex. I mean I want that too but… I’m really in love with you! I want your heart too. If you have no interest in me at all, just say so and I’ll drop it. But if you’re attracted to me, even a tiny bit, let me be your doll!”

**********************

Toji looks down at the girl in front of him, wondering what he did or said to make her feel this way. He’s always thought of her as the cute, cheery little cashier who always greeted him with a bright smile. And that’s pretty much it. He assumed she was younger than she is, probably because she’s so damn short, so it really never occurred to him to think of her in a sexual way. 

But looking at her now, knowing she’s an adult, he thinks she’s quite pretty. Still, she must be naive, or have really bad judgement, if she fell in love with someone like him. And wanting to be a doll? Did she even understand what that meant?

“It’s a ten year contract,” he tells her. “You’re signing away ten years of your life when you become a doll.”

“I know that.”

“You’re basically a sex slave. You have to do all kinds of filthy stuff, whether you want to or not.”

She nods. “I understand.”

Toji thinks she definitely doesn’t understand. She practically has hearts in her eyes. Shit, she’s actually in love with him!

Well, time to give her a wake up call. 

He steps closer, looming over her, exuding a threatening aura. “My training isn’t romantic. It’s not about love,” he tells her in a serious tone, “it’s about fucking you all day and all night until you’re so cock drunk, the only thing you can think about is cock. You’ll feel empty when my dick isn’t buried in your pussy. You’ll feel hungry when you’re not drinking my cum. And even if you’re sore and exhausted, I won’t stop. There’s no breaks in my training. Love will be the last thing on your mind, because by the end of it, you’ll want any cock that’s available, no matter who it belongs to.”

She stares up at him. He expected her to cry and run away, or at least look frightened. But she has a strangely blank expression as she asks, “Are you trying to scare me away?”

He narrows his eyes. “Is it working?”

She smiles. “Nope. I know how I feel. I might get addicted to you, but I’ll never want anyone else!”

He sighs again. “See, that’s another reason I can’t do it. As trainers we’re not supposed to let dolls get attached to us. You’re already attached. How are you gonna feel when I hand you over to some random guy, and you’re stuck with him for ten years?”

She doesn’t falter even then. Instead she says, “I heard a rumor that trainers can keep a doll they’ve trained.”

Oh. So that’s her plan. “Yeah, I can keep exactly one. Not to be rude, because you’re cute and all, but what makes you think I’ll pick you as the one and only doll I can keep?”

She looks him straight in the eyes. “I’m willing to bet on my love. It’s a gamble I can take, because the reward will be worth it.”

He chuckles. “Ten years with me is a reward? You’re delusional.”

“Maybe so. But it doesn’t change how I feel. I bet you’ll fall in love with me before the training is over!”

He laughs and bends over slightly to face her. “And I bet I can turn you into a cock drunk slut who doesn’t care about love.”

Her eyes light up. “So you’ll be my trainer?”

Shit. He got caught up in the moment. He never could resist a bet. “If we do this, you can’t complain. I’m not gonna go easy on you just because I know you from the convenience store. You can’t pull the shy virgin card. I’m gonna be fucking your brains out constantly, filling every hole you have.”

Her face reddens, but there’s excitement in her love struck eyes. “I’m not a virgin,” she says, “and I might be a little shy at first but I’ll get over it.” Then she meets his gaze again. “You’re all I’ve thought about for two years. I want you to wreck me!”

His eyes widen. She’s cuter than he realized. She’s so small framed, he could snap her in half like a twig, but she’s determined and strong willed. He’s starting to look forward to splitting her open on his cock. 

“Okay, if you’re sure about this, come inside and sign the contract,” he says. 

******************

The inside of the Doll House is, oddly, almost exactly how you imagined it would be. Everything looked opulent and classy, the furnishings all expensive, the colors all rich. The smell of some sort of perfume fills the air, making you slightly dizzy as you follow Toji inside. 

“Wait here, I’ll get the owner,” he says, disappearing into a dark hallway. When he returns a few minutes later, a beautiful woman with silver hair is with him, holding a contract. 

“Read this very carefully,” she says, “then sign if you agree to the terms.”

Despite your reckless plan, you still take the time to read over the contract. Everything sounds fair, so you take a pen from the nearby counter and sign on the dotted line. Toji watches with an unreadable expression. 

Once you’ve signed, Toji leads you further into the house, down a hall, and to a door. “This is my room,” he says, opening the door and motioning you in. “You’ll spend most of your time in here, but you’re not confined. You can wander the house if you want.”

Walking into his room, you feel a bit overwhelmed. It’s fancy, like the rest of the house, but there’s enough personal touches for you to see his personality. There’s a large punching bag hanging from the ceiling in the corner, a mini fridge sitting on a cheap-looking metal stand beside a large TV. The bed is made, surprisingly, but it still looks a little sloppy. There’s laundry scattered here and there on the floor. 

“You can send for some clothes and stuff later. You won’t need much thought,” he tells you, tossing some clothes out of a nearby chair. “Here, have a seat.”

You walk over and sit down in the offered chair. Toji leans against the dresser and begins explaining the rules. 

“As a doll under my training, you have to do whatever I say, no matter what it is. If you don’t, you’re breaking the contract. I don’t do freaky shit like punishments or collars or whatever. You’ll see plenty of that with the other trainers. If you don’t follow my orders, I’ll just send you home and you’ll get sued.”

You nod. That all seems simple enough. 

Toji goes to the mini fridge and opens it, then comes toward you with a small bottle of liquid. “Drink this,” he says.

You look at the bottle without touching it. “What is it?”

“It’s an aphrodisiac. It helps with the training.”

“Oh, I don’t think I need that,” you say. 

Toji frowns. “You wanted me to train you, so listen to your trainer. Drink it.”

You take the bottle from him and pull off the lid. After giving the liquid inside a quick sniff, you shrug and down the whole bottle, then give him back the now empty container. 

“How long does it take to work?” you ask. 

He gives you a grin. “Just a few minutes. You’ll know it when you feel it.”

“Okay,” you reply, trying to act cool when you’re about to burst from excitement. The man you’re madly in love with, that you’ve been thinking about nonstop for two years, is going to touch you, kiss you, have sex with you! You want to squeal! But mixed in with the excitement is a little bit of nervousness. What if you can’t satisfy him? What if he’s too rough? 

He’s back to leaning against the dresser, one ankle crossed over the other, casual slide-on sandals on his feet. He’s wearing baggy sweatpants and a form fitting T-shirt, his standard look. God, he looks good. You can’t wait to have those big strong hands on you, sliding over your body, pinning your arms above your head, squeezing your-

Wait. Is the aphrodisiac already working? You were already thirsty for him but suddenly you feel like tackling him to the floor. Your body feels hot, like you’re running a fever. Your breathing has quickened. You look up to find Toji grinning at you. It’s a smug, knowing grin. He knows exactly what’s happening. 

He pushes away from the dresser and casually strolls over to you. “Sure you’re ready for this?” he asks as he stands over you. 

You gulp as you look up at him, probably looking the same way a mouse does before a hungry hawk. “Y-yeah! I’m totally ready!”

He kneels down in front of your chair, placing one hand on each of your thighs, and then moving them up, dragging your skirt with them. Your breath catches in your throat when your skirt is hiked up around your waist, revealing your blue and white striped panties. He locks eyes with you as he hooks his fingers into the waistband and slowly pulls your panties down, sliding them under your ass and all the way off your ankles. 

His hands are firm as they push your legs up and apart, leaving them to hang over each arm of the chair, spreading you open. His eyes flick up to your face once more before he dives in, burying his face in your wet pussy. His tongue goes straight to work, teasing your clit by drawing circles around it while two of his fingers slide inside you. You’re so slick with arousal that they slip right in despite their size, then pump in and out as his lips close around your sensitive nub, sucking hard enough to pull on it, making your body jolt. 

“Oh God!” you moan, your back arching in the chair, your head tossed back. Toji’s lips release you, his tongue now lapping at the juices leaking out of you as his fingers continue moving. You’ve never felt such intense stimulation in your life. And to think… the man you’re crazy about is doing this to you! It’s euphoric. 

You lose track of time as Toji eats you out in the chair. You eats your pussy like he’s a starving man, and you can only quiver and squirm in pleasure, moaning and gasping. 

“Ahhh… Toji!” you scream out when you feel his teeth lightly graze your clit. Then it’s his tongue again, then his lips, and finally your body can’t take any more pleasure. You cum with a loud cry of his name, and you look down just in time to see fluid squirting out of you, most of it hitting Toji right in the face. 

He pulls back, licking his lips and using the collar of his shirt to wipe his face. He laughs and says, “Didn’t know you were a squirter!”

You blush crimson. “I’ve never done that before! I’m sorry it got all over you.”

“Are you kidding? I love squirters! Lets me know I’m doing a good job. You can spray my face anytime.”

Before you can respond to that, Toji stands up and then scoops you into his arms. You feel weightless when held by his massive strength as he carries you to the bed and lies you on your back. 

With expert motions, he pulls your shirt up your body and over your head, tossing it to the floor where it blends in with the rest of the laundry, then slides your skirt down and off, leaving you completely bare. 

Then, he begins undressing himself. You watch breathlessly as he takes his shirt off, revealing his muscled chest. God, he’s gorgeous. He wears a smirk as he shoves his pants down, watching your eyes bulge at the sight of his humongous cock. Oh, you’re definitely going to feel that! If he can even get that tower of a dick to fit. 

Maybe it’s the aphrodisiac, or maybe it’s the fact that you love him, but you’re not scared at all. You just want him inside you, even if he has to tear you apart. So when he climbs onto the bed and pushes your legs up, folding you in half, you’re ecstatic. Even when you feel his tip at your soaking wet entrance, even when his heavy body presses down on you, effectively pinning you to the bed, it doesn’t even occur to you to panic. You look up at him lovingly, waiting for your fantasies to finally come to life. 

He shoves into you, all the way in on the first thrust, stretching you impossibly wide and deep. It takes your breath away, your hands gripping his broad shoulders. It feels like he just penetrated your womb, even if you know that’s physically impossible. There’s a dull, throbbing ache inside you, but it’s a feeling you welcome. Because you’re stuffed so completely full of the man you love. 

After giving you a few moments to accommodate his size, he begins pumping into you, slowly at first but quickly picking up speed. With every thrust, you gasp, your fingers digging into his skin. It hurts and it feels great at the same time. “T-Toji…”

You look up at him, and he’s looking back

at you with heated eyes. “Fuck, you’re tight! Holy shit!” he mutters, thrusting even harder, rocking your whole body against the bed. 

“Ahhh… Toji…. it’s so deep!”

You hear him chuckle, then he leans down, putting his mouth close to your ear as he says, “Baby, I’m only halfway in.”

“What?!” you gaze up at him in shock. “But I thought…”

He grins. “You thought this was it? I’m insulted.” He laughs, patting your head. “You’re adorable. But I think this is all you can handle right now. I’m not into hurting dolls.”

“M-more…” you murmur. 

“Huh?”

“I want more of you! I want all of you!” The words burst from your mouth in a cry as your arms wrap around him. “I don’t care if it hurts! I lo-“

He cuts off your cries with a kiss, his lips smothering your own, his tongue in your mouth. When he pulls away, you’re left panting. 

“There’s plenty of time for that, trust me,” he says, his voice low. “This tight little pussy is gonna get every inch of me. But right now, this is your limit.”

As if to punctuate his words, he gives a hard thrust, making you moan and tighten your grip on his neck. He’s too much, but it’s still not enough for you. You want everything he has, but you agreed to listen to him as your trainer, so you drop the issue and let yourself enjoy the feeling of him inside your body, his toned abdomen scraping across you, the smell of his cologne drifting around the room. 

You didn’t think you could fall anymore deeply in love with him, but you have. 

********************

Toji wants nothing more than to plow his entire length into his new doll’s tiny, drenched pussy, and she’s practically begging for it, but he was telling the truth when he said he didn’t like hurting dolls. He wasn’t like Sukuna, who got off on inflicting pain. Toji could enjoy giving some asshole a beating, but he’d never understood the appeal of hurting a lover. 

The girl currently writhing in ecstasy beneath him was so small in stature, and a bit younger than the dolls he usually trained. He was aware of his own size, of his unusual strength, and so he had to be careful with dolls like her. He didn’t want to break her. 

As he fucks her, he kisses her again, on her lips, her neck, her breasts, tasting her sweet skin. He slides one hand down between their bodies and finds her clit with his thumb, making her tremble and cry out his name again. 

He looks down at her blissed out face. She’s staring at him so longingly, her face flushed with pleasure, her lips parted and wet with his own saliva, he feels his jaded heart skip a beat. 

Does she actually love him? Or has she just convinced herself that she does? Either way, it doesn’t matter. Within a couple of weeks she’ll be turning those pretty, loving eyes on anything with a cock. 

As for Toji, he will never fall in love with her. He tried love once, long ago, and it only brought him misery. Much easier to have fun fucking dolls and then send them on their way. 

The doll cries out loudly, her body shaking under him as she cums, her arms clinging to him. “Toji… I love you…” she says, barely conscious. 

She really is cute, he thinks, and tight as fuck. He thrusts into her for a few more minutes as she rides out her orgasm, then pulls out of her. His cum shoots out onto her prone body, coating her tits. Her eyes flutter open and she looks down, touching the sticky fluid with her fingers. She looks disappointed. 

“You didn’t cum inside me?” Her voice is weak, almost sad. It makes him want to fill her with his seed until it’s pouring out of her. 

“Not until you get on birth control,” he tells her. It’s something all dolls are expected to do. No one wants to deal with a pregnancy, least of all Toji. One brat is enough for him. 

He gives her a few minutes to catch her breath, then reaches down and rolls her onto her stomach. “Time for round two,” he whispers into her ear. 

She turns her head suddenly to look back at him. “Right now?!”

He points down at his still fully hard cock. “I took one of those aphrodisiacs myself. I can go for hours! I told you, you don’t get breaks in my training.”

There’s a flicker of panic on her face, but it’s quickly replaced by excitement. She draws up her knees and lifts her hips. “Okay. Maybe you can put it all the way in this time?”

His eyes shimmer as he says, “Fuck, you’re already hungry for my cock, aren’t you?”

She blushes but smiles at him. “Well, that, and I just love you so much. I want to feel all of you, everything about you.”

He looks away from her face, focusing on the sexy little ass sticking up in the air. “That’s good for you, then. Cause we’re just getting started.”

Tag List:

@suguguro @kaedear @onyxsphynx @poopoobuttsy @butterskyy @collectionofdolls @akaotv @witchbybirth @bloofinntoona @wasurenagusaa @tclbts @tojirin @lucyrocks86 @badbyeyoongi @97britt @aydene @lzaj19 

[boiohboii]

The surprising match

(Max Verstappen x Korean actress reader)

SOULMATE AU

N.B: this is just an idea that came to mind cause I am a hoe for soulmate aus, so if you know any f1 soulmate aus please tell me! WARNINGS: ONLINE HATE, THE WORDS WHORE, SLUT AND DICK ARE USED. SWEAR WORDS LIKE FUCK AND ASSHOLE ARE ALSO USED, if I missed anything please let me know! And obviously some spelling mistakes.... might do a part 2 idk yet

Faceclaim: Han so hee

SKENTNEWS.COM

Liked by doO_nct, realstraykids, maxverstappen1 and 4.8M others

YN99LN: had too much fun this week, thank you everyone for showing my new drama this much love

username: BOY IF YOU DON'T STOP

username: Max really has no idea what being slick is huh.

username: I hate you

username: slut

username: I really hope this fun didn't involve the vroom vroom boy

username: vroom vroom boy 💀😂

username: ikr, can't believe we might lose our queen

username: I'm in Spain without the s

username: low quality picture, high quality woman

username: show off

username: when you're YN LN but still take 144p pictures

username: the struggle is real

Liked by agustd, saythename_17, danielricciardo and 6.8M others

YN99LN: Canada, you are so kind to me. I want to stay with you

username: so who is Canada?

username: you know who else is in Canada? MAX FUCKING VERSTAPPEN

username: this is definitely about Max

username: DANNY WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE

username: no because if this is about max and she's happy about the fact that he's nice it's too sad cause wtf has she been through

username: you really don't wanna know

username: all my homies hate what people in SK did to her

username: oh my god, stop showing off you bitch

username: I hope you die

username: I feel like a victorian man seeing collar bones for the first time

username: IKR!! something about her collar bones!

username: as an f1 fan this community is so weird

username: collar bones? Really?

username: I feel like I entered another universe

username: is she drunk in the first pic?

username: yes, this whore just gets drunk and has tattoos and smokes, she's the worst

username: I was gonna say that it's so hot of her to post a pic like that

username: stay pressed you asshole

username: the second and last pictures tho

username: I am just a hole yn

username: bend me over your knee and slapp my cheeks ma'am

username: the leather pants and glasses are so 🔥

username: it gave me a boner and I don't even have a dick

username: I have a dick and now I am in the shower

username: everyone horny for yn

username: good for nothing pampered slut

username: I hope max leaves you

username: I hope he hates her

username: I read that she smokes as well and while I am against the action and stand by the fact that it's not cool to smoke seeing a South Korean famous person do that shit is so wild for me and turns me on

username: I want to chock on her boot's heel

username: yn please spit in my throat

username: wikihow please tell me how to give head

username: the 2nd picture makes me want to give her hickeys all over her back and shoulder

username: step on me

username: you f1 fans are wild

username: this comment section passed the vibe check

~this post has been removed~

[bitchlessdino]

Would you like a receipt? Pt. 1

In Valentines collaboration with @svthub hosted by my wifey @wongyuseokie, pt 2 out now! Pairing: Childhood bf!junhui x working class gn!reader Genre: fluff, slight angst, slice of life Word count: 2.9k tags: second chances, exes to ???, childhood friend/boyfriend!junhui, spontaneous dates, misunderstandings, smut in part 2!!! Summary: Coming across a grade school ex-boyfriend while you worked a shitty seasonal job around Valentines was not in your 2024 bingo card. author note: to sweet mio at @skyechild i apologize in advance for making you wait for the second half. I promise it'll be worth the wait. but yes! i am your one and only cupid. I hope you enjoy what i have so far. And to answer your ask, idk if i have a favorite thing about myself? Maybe it's the constant desire to look for new things to improve on or my attitude in trying new things? What i look for other people is pretty simple tho. That would be ease. I'd like if someone felt comfortable with me and vice versa. if i can make someone's day by making them laugh or just existing then that would be great. happy valentines day mio! From yours Truly, Cupid💘

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch @cottoncheol @embrace-themagic

Valentine's Day has always been a bit of a hit or miss for you. The last time you remember eagerly anticipating the holiday was back in high school. Since then, the allure of celebrating love and romance seemed to fade away, as you realized that not everything in the world is adorned in shades of pink and red. Valentine's Day became a luxury, a whimsical indulgence that felt distant and impractical for someone navigating a world that often left little room for such extravagances. Life, for you, was a series of tasks, responsibilities, and the constant juggling act of making ends meet.

From the time you were in high school, you entered the realm of adulthood, where dreams sometimes took a backseat to the more immediate needs of providing for your family. The dreams you put on hold lingered in the recesses of your mind, awaiting their turn to be fulfilled. Working tirelessly, you made sacrifices, dedicating yourself to a job that demanded your energy and time. Despite the challenges, you pressed on, ensuring the well-being of your family, who toiled alongside you, if not even harder.

Now, as an adult working a part-time job that offers a slightly better paycheck than your previous one, you’ve grown used to the matter. While the financial gains may not be monumental, every improvement counts, especially when compared to the downfalls of your previous workplace.

Amidst the whirlwind of your daily hustle, Valentine's Day transforms into a distant echo of the past–a time when celebrations were carefree and seemingly attainable. However, for you, navigating the world feels akin to maneuvering on an almost empty tank. In this moment, mere existence becomes a means to sustain yourself.

“Is this a gift? If so, would you like it to be gift-wrapped for you?”

The middle-aged man raises an eyebrow, smacking that mint gum that doesn’t seem to mask his nicotine-coated breath. “Is it extra?”

“It’s two dollars extra.”

Usually, you’d really sell the idea that the highest premium quality wrapping paper would be used to then be topped off with a satin ribbon that truly pulls it all together, but for such a customer, you know you’d be wasting your breath.

He scoffs, snatching the bag off the counter. “Are you trying to scam me? Fuck that shit.”

You let a sigh of relief slip past your lips the moment he made his way out the sliding door, muttering to yourself about the smell. You reach down for your Powerade hidden on a bottom shelf of the counter you stand behind, hoping this supposed ‘power’ would relinquish itself to you for another long shift.

It’s the day before Valentine's Day, which means the rush has become a regular occurrence since about a week ago. The store is bursting with vibrant displays of flowers, stuffed animals clutching oversized lollipops, and decadent heart-shaped boxes of chocolates. Not such a bad gig if you look at it.

However, the true predicament lies in the presence of aggressive customers, drawn to discounts like magnets. They're all about grabbing anything and everything that's on sale, making things more complicated than they need to be. It's like they're trying to see how far they can push things and make your day even crazier. Dealing with them adds an extra layer of chaos to the already busy scene as if you haven’t lost faith in humanity enough.

“I bought this yesterday and it’s DIGUSTING! I want a full refund and extra compensation for my time and taste buds being wasted on this disgusting excuse of a candy.”

Popping open the box revealed a sorry sight–almost half the candies were missing as if they'd gone on a little taste adventure without an invite. The poor box looked like it had been through a candy apocalypse, so messed up that I couldn't even be sure if it originally belonged to our store.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry you're dissatisfied with our products. However, because the box is so damaged and half of the contents have been consumed we cannot accept this return,” you respond in your most polite service voice.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Where the hell is your manager? The customer is always right!”

At last, a wave of relief crashes over you like a superhero arriving just in the nick of time during closing hours. The once bustling crowd has dwindled, allowing you to begin the task of rearranging items and securing the cash register, signaling the imminent conclusion of yet another busy day.

Just when you're on the verge of clocking out and calling it a day, a sudden interruption unfolds at the entrance. A lone figure materializes outside, softly tapping on the glass as if pleading to be granted entry.

"Please," his voice is all muffled through the glass, "I know you're about to close, but pretty please! I just need to grab something real quick. I already know exactly what I need!"

It’s not every day you see a man of his looks and caliber beg to be given access to a candy store as if he were a determined child. There's this undeniable air of urgency about him–as if he’d die if we didn’t get what he needed–but it doesn't overshadow his perfectly proportioned features that illuminate under the evening street lights. Ultimately, you decide to approach the door, swiftly undoing the top lock of the door and allowing him inside.

He expresses his gratitude with a grateful clasp of his hands, swiftly navigating through the inventory to grab what he urgently needs. Returning to the counter, you initiate the process of unraveling the closing procedures, all the while fervently hoping that no one else decides to join the stranger in last minute browsing.

"Sorry," he apologizes as he drops his items on the counter: several heart-shaped boxes and a bear clutching a mini Mylar balloon that shouts 'I love you,' with a small box of chocolates in its other paw. A classic and popular choice.

“That’s a lot of chocolate. Big family?”

He shakes his head, "Nah, these are for a company thing. I've been busting my butt for weeks, and the one simple task I get, I can't even manage it until the last minute."

"Got it. And the bear? Picking up a last-minute surprise for your girlfriend too?"

A slightly offended look crosses his face. "Oh, if I had a girlfriend, I’d do way more than make up my tardiness with a teddy bear.” He holds the fluffy creature in his hand, “This is just for my mom. So, if you ever spot a lady with my face and long hair, please, keep it on the down-low."

You chuckle softly, bagging up his purchases. "I'll remember that. Cash or credit?"

He extends his hand, revealing his credit card with his full name on display. As you sound out the name in your head, it strikes you as unique yet oddly familiar. You run the card through the machine, unaware that the customer is squinting at you, also trying to place where he might know you from.

"Hey, have we met before? You seem really familiar," he questions.

"Uh, not sure, but your name does ring a bell," you reply as you hand the card back. "Haven't come across too many Wen Junhuis."

"Wait, how do you know my name?" he questions.

"Well, it's on your credit card, sir," You respond with straightforward precision.

"True, but no one has picked it up as quickly and accurately as you did. Maybe we do know each other."

You shrug. "Maybe so. I think the last time I heard a name like that was back in elementary school. A classmate maybe."

"Hold on, you couldn't be Y/n, right?" he questions, his eyes widening with realization.

You take a brief pause to grasp the implication, acknowledging it with a nod. "Been a long time coming, hasn't it?"

His smile widened across his cheeks, evoking memories of a similar grin on a boy more than half his age. "Yeah. Well, I be damned. I'm surprised you remember my name."

"It's pretty distinctive; I'm surprised you remember mine."

He scoffs. "You are a core memory, thank you very much. One of the nicest and coolest people in our grade. God, remember our first Valentines?"

"Yes," you softly chuckle, the memories of childhood innocence flooding back. "I begged my mom to get these really nice scented Valentine cards to give to the class."

"And you gave me the lemon one because I love lemons, and I gave you one of the hologram cards of a cat that smiles when you flip it on its side."

"I was so excited to show my sister, and I just know she was so jealous."

"Yeah, where did the time go?" he sighs, his smile turning wistful on his lips.

You shake your head, still smiling from the unexpected trip down memory lane, and finally, hand off his gifts back to him. "Would you like a receipt?"

"No, I'm good. So,” He leans over the counter curiously, “What are you doing this Valentine's?"

"Working the day. I'll probably just grab takeout for dinner and head home. You?"

"It's a workday,” he says proceeding to grab his things. “So most of the day is spent in the office. But, I'm free the rest of the evening…would it be weird if I asked you out for Valentine's Day?" he nervously proposes.

You raise an eyebrow, slightly taken aback but intrigued. "You want me to be your Valentine?"

"Couldn't hurt," he nonchalantly shrugged, a wry grin playing on his lips. Then, as if a light bulb flickered to life above his head, an idea dawned on him, sparking mischief in his eyes.

"Unless you've got a 200-pound, all-muscle boyfriend ready to beat my ass," he quips, his tone laced with a hint of sarcasm. The words linger in the air, forming a playful challenge and a subtle admission that, just maybe, he wasn't entirely impervious to consequences.

It harks back to a past altercation, one of those rare 'couple quarrels' you had. The promise was made in jest—that you'd leave him if he ever pulled on your hair again, and he'd have to face a burly 200-pound muscle man. Though uttered in humor with no evidence of said muscle man, it struck a chord of genuine concern in his little boy heart, and he kept that promise until the end of your relationship. The memory lingered, manifesting now in an unmistakable charm, a blend of audacity, bravado, and humor that fills the air with laughter and unadulterated ease.

You chuckle. “Lucikly, I don’t, but I don’t know you. Who knows what kind of person you, or I, have become in the last fifteen or so years? Maybe I'm a bitch.”

"Well, as long as there’s no one else in the picture, I see no problem. Bitch all you want to me." he grins.

Your expression shifts into a playful contemplation, "Why me? I'm pretty sure there are plenty of people out there dying for a dinner date with you. I mean, the last thing we shared was a juice box."

"Maybe I'm hoping to reignite an old spark. If I recall our MASH game correctly, we were supposed to be living in a shack with 20 kids, a dog, and daily commutes on a scooter," Junhui retorts.

"Thank goodness that scenario never played out, but, um, I'm not sure dinner is a good idea."

As the banter unfolds, you realize it's been an eternity since you've experienced the thrill of a proper date. The mere thought of dressing up, the nervous excitement before meeting someone, and the shared laughter over a romantic meal become fragments of a distant past, like pages in a cherished novel stored away on a forgotten shelf.

“We never know unless we try, right?” He says, a teasing glint in his eyes.

“You always hit on exes that you stumble upon on a random Tuesday?”

“Only the pretty ones.” Junhui grins, swiftly extracting a candy box from the bag. With a quick scribble on the side, he hands it to you. “If you change your mind. Happy Valentine's Day.”

You roll your eyes playfully, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you accept the candy. “Happy Valentine's Day to you too, Jun.”

You depart with a box of candy in hand when your shift ends, Junhui's number hastily scribbled on the top, the ink still fresh as that abrupt encounter. As you make your way home, the city lights shimmering in the distance, you find your thoughts circling back to his audacious proposition.

The weight of the candy box seems to mirror the gravity of the decision before you. The city streets, now quieter in the late evening, echo with dilemma of pursuing his offer. You can't deny the charm that lingers in the air—a mix of confusion, nostalgia, and an unexpected connection. The mere act of considering his offer adds a layer of excitement to the night, anticipation for plans that have been yet set in motion.

As you unlock the door to your apartment, the scent of familiarity welcomes you warmly for once, likely due to the refreshing end of your night. You set the candy aside–already having memorized Junhui's number–and with a decisive tap, you enter his number into your phone. The screen lights up with his name, a digital beacon inviting you to venture into uncharted territory. As you send a quick message, the city outside continues its gentle hum, and you can't help but feel giddy. You’re eleven all over again.

The memory of Junhui's charismatic grin lingers in your mind, a subtle tug at the edges of your thoughts the moment you hit send, and you throw the phone aside, letting yourself get rid of the electrifying nerves running through your body. When you hear the notification going off–Junhui’s name on display–you realize there’s no going back.

The following day, you’re excited about living for once. Delighted to have something to look forward to after work, you board today's bus with a genuine smile on your face, a subtle change that doesn't escape the notice of the bus drivers, who have grown accustomed to your early presence by now.

As the bus carries you through the familiar townscape, you can't help but revel in the subtle shift in the air. The usual humdrum of daily life seems to have given way to a vibrant undercurrent of anticipation for the holiday. The ordinary scenes outside the window take on a slightly pink hue, and you find yourself savoring the details that often go unnoticed illuminated with festive decor.

Work hours also pass with a newfound energy, and the anticipation for the evening grows with each passing minute, even with the rambunctious customers buying more gifts just in the nick of time. The mundane tasks of the day become a mere backdrop to the vibrant scene that awaits you once the clock strikes the end of the workday.

Today, the world outside the candy store seems to radiate brighter than any other day has. The street lights gradually flickering on, usually just a backdrop to your daily grind, now beckon with a promise of surprises. As the day unfolds, you find yourself counting down the hours until your appointment time arrives and you quickly change into your Valentine's date attire, anticipating Junhui's reappearance.

Time moves forward—one hour, two hours, three hours. Doubts begin to creep in. Were you merely indulging in wishful thinking at this point?

The rose-tinted glasses, which once painted the day with a hopeful hue, must have started to expire. Now, a subtle gray takes over, bringing you back to the stark reality of the passing moments. The initial excitement begins to wane, replaced by a tinge of disappointment and a hint of uncertainty.

As the clock ticks away, doubts and questions swirl in your mind like a gathering storm. The vibrant anticipation that once filled the air begins to dissipate, leaving behind a quiet unease.

You glance at your reflection in the mirror, the Valentine's date attire now carrying a touch of wistfulness. The city outside, once alive with the promise of a special evening, now takes on a different tone. The street lights, initially beacons of excitement, cast shadows that dance with anxiety and unease. The imminent arrival of buses amplifies a fleeting thought–maybe, just maybe, you can still catch it if you run.

Taking a leap of faith, you hastily gather your belongings and make your way to the bus station, adhering to your initial plan—opting for takeout in the solitude of home, if restaurants are still an option at this hour. Amidst the uncertainty, your phone succumbs to the lack of power, its screen plunged into darkness, mirroring the tone of your night.

The familiarity of home brings no comfort, only disheartenment. You set aside the dinner you had envisioned for tonight, plugging in your phone to replenish its drained battery, intentionally avoiding any further interaction with the outside world for the remainder of the night.

When your phone finally regains its power, messages burst to life in an instant, one particular message standing out, beckoning attention. That is, of course, if you were still around to witness it.

Junhui: I’m so sorry! You will not believe the day I had. My office was bombarding me all day with extra work and i only left now. Please tell me its not too late.

P.S. and here's that valentine i wanted to give to you <3 i hope you like it as much as this fic so far

[lakesbian]

twig faq to answer all of the asks i got regarding my liveblog

Q: holy shit twig turned out bad huh A: yeah

Q: should i read twig? A: no. it's bad

Q: what about the parts of twig that were good though? i noticed that there were parts of twig that seemed awesome before everything suddenly exploded A: okay let me elaborate. the first ~13 arcs of twig are really really endearing when they're focusing on the lambs. when they're being about the lambs, they range anywhere from "cute" to "extremely fun" to "genuinely super compelling" to "shit that made me cry (positive)." we have high points such as:

12yo sylvester lambsbridge fumbles 3 people with crushes on him harder than anyone's ever fumbled in their life in the span of like 7 hours maximum

sylvester lambsbridge does transhet biopunk brokeback mountain

wildbow writes rose thorburn but if she were a hardass trans girl (she's the one doing transhet biopunk brokeback mountain with sy)

gordon dies and lillian copes by taking some of sy's drug that gives him turbo-adhd

helen is there

sylvester lambsbridge experiences what i earnestly believe to be one of the cruelest things wildbow has ever done to any of his protagonists

lots of other stuff, i'm abbreviating here

but the reason i say the first ~13 arcs of twig are good when they're focusing on the lambs is that twig is prone to slogging, strikingly mediocre fight scenes--sy can't fight for Shit, but wildbow still insists on describing, like, sylvester trying & failing to hit someone with a wooden plank with the same gratuitous, lengthy detail as taylor inventing a spider-based saw trap for someone. and unlike the spider-based saw trap, it's not interesting to read about. the arcs take an episodic format, and what this means is that virtually every arc goes on way too long, contains at minimum 40% more tediously detailed fight scenes than are actually necessary, and then leaves you feeling jarred when wildbow inevitably timeskips to the next arc just as the prior one was really getting into the emotional swing of things. i also have a (quite possibly subjective?) sense that twig wasn't as well-developed and thought-out as, e.g., pact, and oftentimes the setting conceit (1900s biopunk frankenstein-y british empire) doesn't feel like it's hitting quite as hard as it should.

for all of these reasons, i wouldn't have rated the first ~13 arcs of twig any more generously than in the 3.5-4 star range while i was reading them, but that's still an overall rating of good. i wouldn't still be thinking about some of the things from the first ~13 arcs of twig if they weren't overall good. if all of twig was the same quality as the first ~13 arcs, i would recommend it to people who i feel like could tolerate the pacing issues & would feel reading about the lambs was worth it.

but. BUT. BUT-

Q: so, twig turns out really bad, huh? what went wrong? A:

it is not all the same quality as the first 13 arcs. it turns out really bad the last 7 arcs are actually atrocious

the first thing that comes to mind if you ask me "what went wrong with twig" is that wildbow tries to write a trans woman as one of the main characters, and he does it badly. miss jessie ewesmont, my new favorite girl whom we need to get the fuck out of a wildbow novel. i think she was written extremely well--and in fact one of the top 2 characters in the book--prior to wildbow trying to handle her coming out. i'd even say the foreshadowing for it was perfectly well done and enjoyable. but after she comes out, during the last 7 arcs of the book?

you know how trans women are often victims of being treated as undervalued, disposable girlfriends, who are expected to coddle & cater to their partner's every whim while receiving effectively nothing in return? and you know how trans women are often treated as if they should be grateful for receiving (what is often less than) the literal bare minimum? and you know how trans women are frequently treated as if it's completely implausible for anyone to find them genuinely attracted or desirable, let alone worth pursuing or putting effort into?

yeah, the last 7 arcs of twig contain untold tens of thousands of words of wildbow reinventing all of that from first principles. this is a subjective experience, but it genuinely felt worse to read than amy dallon. at one point, the Disposable Trans Girlfriend in question literally says "i appreciate you not killing me" after she gets stabbed in her sleep by her boyfriend, sylvester. it's beyond parody. i've never said "WE HAVE TO HIT WILDBOW WITH HAMMERS" more in my goddamned life than while reading the last 7 arcs of twig. Transmisogyny Fucking City. it's a completely unforgivable and miserable reading experience.

and speaking of unforgivable and miserable reading experiences involving bigoted handling of a main character...onto Item No. 2 on the list of writing decisions that ruin twig! the ableism.

wildbow wants all of the lambs to--due to being ill-fated human experiments--have set expiration dates. one of the Main Points hanging over the entire narrative of twig is that every single lamb is, in all likelihood, going to die of complications from the way they've been experimented on before they're even twenty. two of them do die from those complications before the story is even halfway over: jamie's entire mind & sense of being is regularly taken out of his body, and one day, the doctors can't get it back in. gordon is a ~15yo with the heart problems of an elderly man, and they kill him while he's still young enough to make one of his last acts begging to see his dog one last time. it's good. it's tragic, it's interesting.

the problem is that wildbow's decision for how to depict sylvester starting to experience end-stage complications is to...turn sy into an ableist horror movie trope villain. sy hears The Devil telling him to kill his friends, and he just fuckin' blacks out and then comes to like "oh no...what's all this blood on my hands." i'm talking "mental illness is a Demon that can Possess You and make you an Evil Serial Killer" levels of ableist writing. like wildbow straight up turns sy into the joker from the movie joker. it's like that one "insaaaaynenene....assyyylum..... cray-ay-zeee...Insaayne" tiktok, you know the one. it's why he stabs his disposable trans girlfriend.

and it's baffling because: 1. wildbow wrote worm. you'd expect better from him when it comes to writing mental illness. but his skills apparently stop short of being able to depict a character with psychosis without making it cartoonishly ableist. but also, 2., sy doesn't only start becoming mentally ill at the end of arc 13! the previous arcs do very clearly establish that he's extremely codependent with the other lambs and needs continuous support to avoid experiencing life-threatening mental health episodes. he experiences dissociation, he struggles with severe memory loss, he acts erratically, he has self-injurious tendencies, he hallucinates, he talks to himself in public. prior to the start of arc 14, all of that is written with perfectly amenable levels of nuance and empathy towards sy. i wouldn't describe it as glowing representation, or anything, but it's by no means egregious.

but after arc 13? change of plans. now he's the joker from the movie joker, and we have to watch while his friends chain him to an armchair so he doesn't go around randomly cutting peoples hands off in a murderous fugue state.

it's bad. it's extremely bad to read.

the third item regarding how/why twig becomes terrible is a lot more simple to summarize: it becomes almost entirely about the previously mentioned sloggy fight scenes as opposed to about the lambs. and when it is about the lambs, it's often terrible to read anyway, due to the aforementioned issues with the handling of protagonist sylvester lambsbridge and his disposable trans gf. the plot becomes incoherent and uninteresting to the point where it's not even worth the effort of attempting to summarize how or why. everything that made twig good more or less entirely disappears from the story, and things that make it fucking awful are added.

Q: okay but lets say i have something unfixably wrong with me and i want to read twig anyway. wheres the best stopping point? arc 13? A: yeah it's arc 13. it's not a satisfying stopping point at all though. nor is the rest of twig prior to it really worth it. just don't waste your time. go read a good book, like pact, instead

Q: what the fuck is up with helen? A: :)

[darlingmbappe]

Revenge Gift | Kylian Mbappé x Fem Reader

— Click here for part 2! —

Summary: When Kylian leaves you high and dry, you decide on a leaving him a little revenge gift.

Warnings: Making out, sexy pictures, teasing, cussing, English is not my first language

Kylian was so happy to see you when you came over today. His face lit up the second he saw you, pulling you in for a long and deep kiss. You both had the afternoon off — a rare occurrence for your never ending clashing schedules — and these past couple of weeks have been especially busy. Working on a project in its preproduction stage comes a lot of late nights and even later mornings. Kylian turns in early and is up at the ass crack of dawn.

Besides the cheeky texts you’ve been sending back and forth, you two hadn’t had a chance to be intimate in a while. Quality time has been at an all time low, probably three weeks had passed since you’ve touched each other in that way. So, imagine how eager you two were when you quickly made it up to his bedroom.

“I fucking miss you,” he breathes between kisses on your exposed neck. You hum in response, too lost in feeling his bare chest against your skin to properly tell him you fucking miss him too. “You drive me crazy when you send me those sexy pictures.” Your hips grind against him while you sat on his lap, earning huffs and low moans from your boyfriend.

He played with the straps of your bra before losing them, following with a trail of kisses on your shoulder.

You huff out a laugh. “How do you think I feel when you send me thirst traps from the locker room, huh?”

Any other time he would deny that they were thirst traps and that you were just thirsty for him, but he only has one thing in mind right now. He reaches behind your back and begins playing with the clasp of your bra, a part he (shamefully) always struggles with. “Why don’t they use Velcro for these things?” He grumbled.

You giggle at him, reaching back to do it yourself. He sits back on the bed and prepares himself to just watch you, his eyes dark with lust and need. Just before you were able to unhook it, his phone starts ringing.

“Shit, sorry.” He reached for it on the nightstand. “Thought I turned that off.” Kylian looks at the caller ID and winces, looking up at you with I’m sorry eyes.

You shrug and drop your arms from your back, disappointed but understanding. “Go ahead, take it.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats before sliding the answer button, immediately sounding annoyed with the caller. You crawl off his lap and make yourself comfortable on the open side of the bed, waiting for him to do something about the throbbing in your core. “What? Today?” He exclaims, jumping out of the bed and begins looking for his something to put on. “I thought it was next week, why didn’t you text me?” He pulls the phone down from his mouth and mouths another ‘I’m sorry’ before putting his clothes back on.

He ends the call with frustration, turning to you with the face of the guiltiest man alive. You roll your eyes and huff, but ultimately realize that this is something he has to do, or else he sure as hell wouldn’t be leaving you alone in his bed right before you were about to get naked. “Go.” You force a little grin out for both your sakes.

“You know I wouldn’t leave if I didn’t have to—”

“I know, Ky. It’s okay, go.” You’re used to forcing the good sport attitude. It was a package deal while dating someone like Kylian.

“Please be here when I come back.” He begs, putting a baseball cap on and a T-shirt.

You stand up, trudging over to him and wrapping a loose hug around his waist. “If you’re back before six…”

He hugs you back, kissing you sweetly. “I’ll try my best, amour.”

You kiss him quickly before shoving him toward the door, his gaze lingered on your bare body for a long second, tutting and cursing under his breath, then forcing himself out of the house.

Once he left, you put on some comfy clothes, made some tea, and began watching a movie in his living room. It wasn’t even two hours later when you phone binged — a message from Kylian.

Kyks <3: what’s the latest you can stay over?

You immediately respond back

You: No later than 6:15

You watched the three bubbles appear before his response.

Kyks <3: fuuuuuuuucccckkk :,(

You frown, realizing that your day with Kylian wasn’t happening.

Kyks <3: I’m sorry amour, I’ll make it up to you. I promise.

Kyks <3: I love you

You: I know you will

You: and I love you too

With a long huff, you stand up and decide to just grab your things and go to your place before you had to head out to work, maybe change into a less itchy bra.

As you walked around kylians room to double check that you grabbed everything, a small black and white object on his dresser caught your eye — his Polaroid camera.

Interesting.

He was obsessed with it for a couple weeks before completly forgetting about it, leaving it to collect dust in his room. Picking it up, you saw he had three photos left in it, and you had a plan brewing. A small form of payback, if you will.

Shuffling back out of your clothes, you propped yourself on his bed, the camera lying next to you. Kylian had yet to see this set in full, so you might as well let him know what he walked out on.

With a quick reposition, you laid down on his silk pillows, squeezed your boobs together to create more cleavage, putting your hand lazily near your mouth.

Snap!

Next, you sat up on your knees, opening your thighs slightly to give him a better view of the black lace that was sewn on mesh at the middle, angling the lens downward at your body.

Snap!

With only one more left in the roll, you decide to show him a little more skin. Taking off your bra, you toss it aside, covering your nipples with your arm. Once you figure out the pose, you snap the last picture.

You put the developing pictures next to each other and shuffle back into your sweatpants and tank top.

Damn, you thought when they were funny developed. You looked so hot. You displayed them nearly on top of his pillow. Now that your satisfied with your teasing revenge, you gather your things and head home.

Around 8:30, the writers room was very unproductive. Everyone had all hit a wall and was out of ideas for the time being. Bouncing off one another felt pointless and everyone was a little frustrated. Usually while at work, your phone was on focus mode so you didn’t get off track, but you had resorted to playing a racing game while hoping inspiration for the script would drop from the sky. Just when you were about to beat your high score, you got a buzz in your phone with a message from your boyfriend. Then another. And another…

Kyks <3: you cannot do this to me right now baby

Kyks <3: you’re evil

Kyks <3: fuuuuccckk bebe I need you to come over right now

Kyks <3: I’m serious. U fucking tease

You bit back a laugh, wishing you could see his reaction in person.

You: I take it you like the pictures?

Kyks <3: I will pay you double whatever you make today if you leave work right now

This time you giggle out loud, catching the attention of your co-writers.

“Sorry,” you said through blushing cheeks. As you were about to put your phone down, you got another buzz. Though you thought about ignoring it, you decided to take a quick peek.

Holy shit.

Your extremely sexy boyfriend had taken a photo for you and you had to physically stop yourself from drooling, your face flushing with color as you took in the picture on your screen. The phone was now held close to your chest just in case anyone was peaking over your shoulder and saw the filthy shot.

His abs we’re on full display — he snapped the shot from his perspective as he laid down in his bed, a white towel hung low on his hips. Your Polaroids were splayed out across his covered leg and his hand covered his groin, large fingers wrapped around his covered member, showing off his perfect outline.

Kyks <3: I’m I gonna have to take care of myself? :(

Without thinking, you wrote back.

You: don’t you dare.

“You guys don’t need me tonight, right?” Your voice cracked. None of your coworkers said anything, just looked at you with a face that screamed ‘seriously?’ “Pleeease, you guys? I swear I’ll come in on Monday with donuts from Azúcar.”

That promise was enough for them to be okay with you leaving early. You texted Kylian back as soon as you gathered your things.

You: be there in 20

He took no time replying.

Kyks <3: counting down the seconds

—Requests are open for Kylian Mbappé!—

[cetaceans-pls]

Oh Brother, My Brother

Is there actually any way to be both a Good Brother and a Cool Brother? Dick's trying to find out.

written as part of DC Gotcha for Gaza for em, who requested (annoying (affectionate) dick!

-

"Why," Jason says with a shocking amount of aggression for such a fine fall day, "are you trying to relive childhood memories that we just don't have, you weird ass bastard?"

He deftly ducks under a straw hat aimed at his head.

"Why shouldn't we!" Dick says with manic cheer, grin bright as all hell but still failing to improve the looks of Gotham's only inner-city 'pumpkin patch. Someone dropped a bunch of hay on the asphalt of the parking lot, a couple of people are gamely trying to stop an alpaca from biting a patron, and the hay ride is a man dressed as a scarecrow (classic, not Crane) huffing and puffing as he pulls 2 shopping trolleys tied together around the perimeter.

Despite the lackluster set up, turn out is good. Gothamites love a shit-show, entrance costs 4 bucks and includes unlimited scarecrow-powered rides for those who can stomach abusing the poor guy, and WE sponsored a falafel stand and a funnel cake stand, with proceeds going to CAIR.

Jason's here because Dick had asked for help for a mission; Jason's still here because despite Dick seeing the need to lie about a family bonding activity, he does unfortunately care enough about the shithead to see through his brother's latest crisis of self.

Doesn't mean that he's wearing an itchy straw hat in sight of one and all though. He snatches the damn thing and then frisbees it into the lot next door (Tall John's Low Price High Quality Cars), and Dick makes a mournful sound as it connects with a 2012 Mazda Miata.

"C'mon," Jason says gruffly. "I'll buy you a funnel cake, stop making that face."

Even the promise of a hot greasy treat does little to lift Dick's mood, but Jason still gets them one each, replete with cream and syrup and mashed strawberries. There's no elegant way to eat the damn things, especially not when it's terribly cold and windy, but they tuck up beside a low wall and make an attempt.

Halfway through, face covered in strawberry like he's just devoured a man, Jason nudges Dick. "Go on, then. Why the hell are you acting even more off the rails than usual?"

The look Dick sends him would make a hangdog hang its doggy face awful low. "It's Tim," he says, a sad high whine. "It's, he's.... Oh, God, I just can't-"

Now, if this was a normal sibling relationship, this would be plenty of cause for alarm. But because Dick's the man that he is and their brotherhood is this thing that's all wire in the blood, Jason knows that if it was something serious serious, life or death serious, then they wouldn't be here, talking about this. The fact that they've got powdered sugar on their noses and not 20 feet away a handsy man is being mauled gently by a llama, well.

It's just Dick being Dick, wanting to whine and be a little annoying and unserious in his brothering, and it's nice for all involved to have low-stakes troubles sometimes.

"Uh huh," Jason says indulgently. "What did he do now?"

"He's cancelled lunch on me like three times," Dick says, incensed. "And then said we should meet off-campus, because he didn't want people to see us together. What does that mean? Why wouldn't he want to be seen with me??"

Jason can't stop himself from quickly looking down to Dick's bare-ass legs in his running short-shorts, and feels a distant kinship with Tim (this hardly ever happens). "Don't take this the wrong way," Jason says, fully knowing that Dick will take it the wrong way, "but you're kinda incredibly embarrassing."

"What?!" Dick yells chestily, loud and powerful enough to startle the llama into letting go of the man it was trying to murder. On the other end of the lot, a gaggle of kids on the 'hay''ride' take Dick's hollering as permission to holler themselves, which results in scarecrow looking like he wants to plunge them all into traffic.

Jason has to stifle a laugh. "I said what I said. I bet every time you're on campus you're hitting on anyone legal and upright, and you always dress like you're in a budget porno. Also, I've seen you subbing for B at Damian's PTA meetings, man. You made his English teacher cry because the kid got an A-, which is not the energy I'd want around my professors." Probably. Jason knows that Bruce would move heaven and Earth to let him go to college if he wanted to, but there's a lot to that that needs untangling, so he'll just have to experience Psych 101 while listening to dick for now.

"He cried because he couldn't accept that he was wrong for not accepting that Damian's prose can be non-traditional, on account of English being like his fourth language!" Dick huffs, and takes a massive bite out of his funnel cake in mild irritation. "And I only ever slept with one professor at Gotham U, and that was before Timmy started taking her class, so that doesn't even count! I haven't done anything really weird!" In a calmer, quieter tone, Dick says, "What's wrong about being invested in you guys' lives?"

Jason bumps their shoulders together. "We're a pack of maladjusted kids who are real real used to not being invested in. Compared to all of that, you're, uh, a shock to the system, Dick." He can't help a little laugh, feeling pretty cheerful now that he knows that Dick's minor crisis is even more unworrying than he thought. "You showed up to an Ikea I was going undercover at to buy a mattress you did not need just so's my commission would get high enough to make me Employee of the Month. That's sooooo not regular, do you get that?"

"What's the point of being regular in this family?" Dick points out unhelpfully. "And I really did need a new mattress! I mean, it wasn't a coincidence that I got it from you, but it was a coincidence that I really did need something from Ikea."

"Uh huh," Jason says, untrusting just to be irritating (a younger brother's prerogative). "That definitely doesn't make it less weird. C'mon, that hot toddy stand is screaming our names. Your treat."

"Maybe I wouldn't have to be this weird if you guys were less weird," Dick says huffily, all tart and annoying (the oldest brother's prerogative). They skid and slide across the damp fall leaves on the ground, and take a moment to admire the little donkey that's just chilling between two trucks parked by the photo area. A man's carving the Gotham skyline into a pumpkin (complete with a tiny tiny Batman!!), and every bit he cuts out he feeds to the sweet braying thing.

Closer to the hot toddy stand, a woman tried to entice them with some home-baked pies she's selling right out the boot of the car. It's not entirely clear if she's here as an official vendor, or an enterprising Gothamite who had seen the pumpkin patch getting set up who just so happened to have 4 whole pecan pies in her car.

The price ($5.50 a slice) is written in lipstick on the plastic casing, so her origin is still unclear. Jason was still a little tempted though, even if they both turn her down on account of having bellies full of cake.

They do, finally, get to the drinks stand. Dick gets carded, to his tremendous delight, and Jason doesn't, which leaves him feeling a little Adult and a little Superior. To keep that particularly ball rolling, Jason even gallantly pays for their drinks (he stops Dick by forcibly taking his credit card from him and snapping it in half), and he leads them to the row of haystacks that demarcate the limited parking.

They're quiet for a while longer, enjoying the honey and the rye and the warmth and the chill. More and more people are showing up, gone 5 and now the little fall-time wonderland is seeing an uptick in people in smart business suits all heading straight to the hot toddy stand. More and more food trucks are showing up now, too, and it must've been a WE-mandate, that everyone's got stickers on their sides advertising the charity that they're championing.

"Thanks for taking me out," Jason says at long, long last. "I've never been to one of these things, but I gotta say, there's something a little special being surrounded by pumpkins and screaming kids and straw."

That makes Dick smile, warm and buttery like the best pie crust a car boot could contain. "'course, Jay. I didn't go to one of these until I was like 25, and I had such a great time that I wanted you guys to experience it too." He breathes in, then sighs out gustily. "You don't think Timmy dislikes me? He's just regular embarrassed? Because I know what it's like to be embarrassed, 'cos Bruce in socialite mode could make a rock bluch, but I'm not great at.... being disliked."

Jason drains his cup, yeets it, and punches the air when it slams into the trash can, nothing but net. "Dick, you asked to speak to my manager so's you could tell her how impressed you were with my mattress knowledge. You're honestly one of the most embarrassing people on this planet." He gets up, dusts himself off, and turns to look at Dick. "You're also one of the most well-liked, well-loved shitheads to walk the Earth. Stop fussing over Timmy and making Wet Sexy Eyes at his friends and professors, and before you know it you'll get cafeteria access again. Okay?"

That's enough, looks like. Dick is grinning so warmly at him it's genuinely embarrassing. "What," Jason says gruffly, looking away and feeling a little grateful that the cold means his face is already too flushed to give away a blush.

"Nothing," Dick says. "Just feeling some kind of way, on account of my little brother loudly proclaiming that I can be annoying but he loooooves me anyway."

"Kill me again," Jason says with feeling.

"Not on pain of death," Dick says with great cheer. "C'mon, we can't call it a good fall day out without a hayride!"

"I'm not sure if Mr. Scarecrow would agree," Jason eyes Dick up and down, and is relieved to see that his mood's a hell of a lot better than when they'd arrived. "There's got to be a way that's less of a labour law violation."

"Oh, ye of little faith," Dick says, dimple digging in more deeply when he smiles. "In your brother you trust!"

-

This is how they end up stuffing straw down their shirts, before going over to the overworked (and probably underpaid!!) scarecrow and offering to take turns hauling people around on this man-powered hayride.

Jason will see, later, in the community newsletter that he fervently keeps abreast of, a picture of him and Dick looking like they'd fought a wheatfield, lost, and then immediately started running away down the streets with kids in tow.

God aloud, nobody is as singularly funny and singularly annoying as Dick is. Even just looking at the picture is making Jason grin, which is SO embarrassing!!

(This man is heavy, but he sure sure is his brother).

=

a/n

thank you to the dc gotcha for gaza gang for organising this, and to em for making this charity commission request (annoying (affectionate) dick)! hope this tickles your fancy, i always enjoy giving dick some type of minor crisis to work through ;)

[tinyfishtits]

Join Me?

Micah Bell / Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: Reader stumbles upon Micah skinny dipping. Word Count: 2,973 Rating: Teen and Up ~ for foul language and suggestive themes Author's Note: More fluff! This is Ch. 2 of 'Need a Haircut, Doll?' ★ Chapter 1 ☆ Read on AO3 ★ Masterlist

Life in camp finally seemed to settle and find its rhythm over the next few weeks in Clemons Point. The men were out most days diddling around Rhodes playing cops and robbers and stirring up trouble… I tried to keep out of it for the most part. In fact, I was so on edge being in Lemoyne Raider territory I hadn’t left camp at all since the move, I was starting to go stir crazy. 

Since joining the gang back in Colter, I'd established myself as a pretty proficient hunter. I was good with a bow and even better with my knives. I gave Charles and Arthur a run for their money when it came to clean kills and high quality pelts. I wasn’t used to being so cooped up and Grimshaw was really taking advantage of all my time loitering in camp. She knew I was an easy target for the chores everyone else seemed to avoid, and now I understood why. After weeks of scraping up horse crap, Karen's vomit, and cleaning dog piss out of bedrolls and blankets that the new camp mutt seemed intent on marking as his territory, I both smelt and felt like shit. 

All this was just compounded by the fact that I couldn’t seem to get a good night's sleep. And so I found myself, for the fifth night in a row, tossing and turning restlessly for hours until I finally gave up the fight and decided to go on a walk. Bundling up in my wool blanket, I made my way down to the lake. It was still dark out, probably just nearing four in the morning. The sun wouldn’t paint the sky for at least another hour. I walked barefoot across the rocky shore, treading slowly over the uneven terrain until the pebbles tapered off to finer grains of sand and I finally felt the warm relief of water at my feet. 

Listening to the soft, rhythmic lapping of the waves, I let my mind wander as I walked. I thought of what I would do when I left camp next. Perhaps I would convince Charles to go hunting with me, or maybe Keiren would finally take me up on my offer to teach him how to throw a knife if he’d show me how to fish. Being surrounded by so many beautiful and bountiful lakes, rivers and swamps in Scarlett Meadows alone, it seemed a shame that was one of the few skills I never even attempted, having written it off early in life as a needlessly boring activity. After all the chaos of the last year, though… I’d grown to cherish those simpler, quiet moments. What was once dull, was now peaceful. 

A few yards out in the water I heard a faint splashing, like a large fish breaking the surface. Straining my eyes in the darkness, I could see something shiny and dark floating on the water. The longer I looked, the bigger it got, slowly emerging from the depths and coming toward where I stood on the shore. The moment the moonlight caught his skin I gasped and turned away, almost falling on my face as my foot caught the edge of my blanket. 

“Jesus! Christ, I- I didn’t-” I stuttered, frozen in embarrassment as I realized what exactly I’d stumbled on to. Micah Bell was half submerged in the lake, a few yards behind me, completely naked. “I didn’t… see… anything.” I said sheepishly. It was mostly truthful. I didn’t see anything, below his waist at least… But I had seen more of him than I ever had before. My cheeks burned hot at the image cemented in my head. Micah, glistening wet in the moonlight, toned arms reaching up to wipe the long hair from his face, freshly trimmed mustache dripping water onto his chest and falling down his soft stomach, the golden hair that trailed down it to what lay just below the water's surface.

The silence following my accidental peeping was painful and I found myself desperately wanting to escape, wishing I had just sat by the fire like every other cold, restless night. Was this what he did? Where he disappeared to after everyone else was asleep?  I had been surprised before when I never ran across him on my midnight walks around camp. Part of me always hoped I would…

“I- I’m sorry. I’ll go.” I said, starting back off in the direction of camp. I’d only made it a few clumsy steps before I heard my name, soft and velvety on the wind at my back. I stopped dead in my tracks, still too red in the face to dare turning to look at him just yet. 

“Wait.” Was all he said, the silence that followed filled only by the subtle splashing of water as he moved through it. “Join me?” His voice rang out from the darkness. The water at my feet, once warm against my skin, now felt ice cold in comparison to the fire raging through me. I’d never heard him so… serious . He always had such a cocky air about him, laced every word in sleazy armor as to not give too much of himself away. The rawness of this one small request, just two simple words… it hung between us like a lightning bolt on the edge of a knife. 

The pure shock of it had me turning to face him, embarrassment over my red face overpowered by curiosity. “What?” I gawked back at him. Even if he couldn’t see my flushed cheeks, it was obvious by the way my voice rose two octaves how flustered I was. Only his head bobbed above the water now and he met my wide eyes with a sly smirk. The moonlight shimmered off the water and reflected in his light blue eyes, igniting them like the fluorescent irises of a predator stalking its prey. It sent a shiver down my spine. 

“I-” I started, feeling the need to speak when he let the silence drag on, but had no clue what to say or do. The thought of going for a much needed soak in the pleasantly warm water was all too enticing… Would he think me a prude if I waded into the water in my clothes? Or even more so if I walked away? If it were anyone else, Charles, Arthur, Bill… I wouldn’t have cared what they would think. But something in me desperately wanted to be vulnerable in this moment, not to turn away or hide myself in fear this chance would not come around again. 

“Turn around.” I said, my voice much steadier than I felt. His eyebrows shot up at first, then his lips twitched with a smile and he turned away to face the horizon. I shuffled out of my clothes, setting them beside where his were, to my surprise, neatly folded on the pebbly ground. Another facet of his personality suddenly fell into place. The gruff, grimey outlaw valued order and care when it came to his possessions. It was clear in the way he tended to his weapons, his horse, his facial hair, and now, his clothes. 

The water felt incredible. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d gone swimming, or even had a proper soak in a tub. It’d been long enough I forgot how light it made your body, how, when the water was the perfect temperature as it was tonight, it felt close to flying. If it weren’t for the light of the moon flickering off the water's surface it’d be hard to think otherwise, the darkness of night and water were practically one in the same. Once the water met my chin and the lakebed disappeared beneath my feet, I couldn't help the laugh that escaped me. 

Micah turned to face me then, “What’s so funny?” He asked, a gleaming smile painting his face as he examined my own elated expression. 

“It just-” I giggled, feeling the water flow through my toes and fingers so softly it was almost ticklish. “I really needed this.” I admitted. 

His smile softened and he hummed in acknowledgement. “Yer workin’ too hard. I don’t know why you let that old bat order you around so much.” 

I wasn’t overly fond of Grimshaw, but I understood at the very least where she was coming from. The camp would fall to pieces overnight if it weren't for her. “She only has me do what needs to be done, I don’t see you pitchin’ in on chores.” 

Micah scoffed. “I bring in cash, sweetheart, I already got a job.” He was just a few feet away from me now, effortlessly paddling his arms and legs. I wasn’t as skilled of a swimmer and could already feel my limbs growing tired at the energy I was exerting just to keep my head above water. Micah noticed my struggle and positioned himself behind me. “Lean back” His gravely whisper brushed against my ear. I did as he ordered and found myself supported by two strong hands on my back as I let my body relax against his hold. 

I let out a content sigh and heard his chuckle ring out above me. “Thank you” I whispered back, my eyes closed as I enjoyed the bliss of feeling as though I truly was floating, suspended in air. 

“Least I could do, darlin’.” He replied, his voice soft and soothing. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to give in completely to his hold on me. As I began to drift off, I could have sworn I heard Micah hum to me, gentle, sweet tunes. One I even recognized as a lullaby from my childhood. I wondered briefly if his mother sang to him as a boy, if he’d ever had a moment as peaceful as the one he was gifting me tonight. He held me like that for so long that by the time I opened my eyes, the sun was rising at my feet, the sky a beautiful deep tangerine.

He slowly released me from his hold once I began to stir awake in his arms. “Mornin’” He whispered, so close I could have sworn I felt his mustache scratch my ear. I turned to face him and he made no effort to move away, our bodies just a foot away from each other. As the sun lit the sky and the water, I became acutely aware of how naked we were. My cheeks reddened in an instant, it took more willpower than I was willing to admit, not to look down. As if he could read my thoughts, though I’m sure they were clearly written on my face, Micah waved a hand toward the shore, splashing the water with his gesture. “Go get dressed doll, I ain’t lookin’.” 

I waded to the shore, my legs a bit wobbly as I readjusted to the weight of my body. The bite of the morning chill prickled at the soft hairs on my body and I shivered against it. Quickly pulling on my clothes, I watched as Micah dove under water. I was surprised how long he could hold his breath, staying submerged for over a minute before his golden head broke the surface again. Fully dressed and bundled once more in my blanket, I yelled for him. “You comin’ cowboy?” 

Diving once more, Micah resurfaced just a few feet away from the shore, shaking his head and flinging the water from his hair like a dog. I yelped as droplets showered my bare legs and jumped back, much to his amusement. Chuckling, he rose from the water, giving me no warning as his bare body came into view. His tanned, toned, glistening body… My mouth went dry and I stumbled once more to turn around in time, giving him the same privacy he allotted me.

I walked over to one of the many large boulders scattered across the shore and took a seat, staring at my hands as he dressed. The faint rustling of fabric and Micah’s soft grunts as he pulled his clothes over damp skin filled the silence between us. The strike of a match and the subtle crackling burn that followed caught my attention and I looked up to find Micah watching me, a cigarette lazily perched between his lips, dressed except for his shirt which he left completely unbuttoned, his chest on full display. 

I opened my blanket and patted the space beside me, a silent invitation. He sauntered over and joined me without a word. His body was so warm , like he had his own fire burning under skin. Micah stiffened as I cuddled up to his side, my arms automatically wrapping around his bicep, pulling him closer. Another shiver wracked my body at our temperature difference and he relaxed, snaking his arm out of my grip to wrap around my waist and bring me deeper into his embrace, pulling the blanket around us both. 

We sat in companionable silence and watched the sun rise, basking in each other's warmth. That faint lakey musk clung to us both, but Micah scent was… deeper, more complex. The ashy burn of salt tingled at my nose, melded delectably with the tobacco smoke and a greener, fresher aroma, like prairie grass. I didn’t realize I was nuzzling his neck until he let out the faintest moan, just barely more than a sigh. But the vibration of it through his throat tickled at my nose and I shot up, suddenly aware how tangled up I was with him. He peeked sidelong at me, taking the cigarette from his lips and blowing a puff of smoke from the side of his mouth, away from me. “Why’d ya stop?” He asked, his voice so low it was barely more than a whisper. 

Instead of searching for an answer I reached for the cigarette in his hand and brought it to my lips, drawing a deep puff before returning it to his still outstretched fingers. I could feel his eyes on me as I gazed out at the brightening horizon. “You been havin’ bad dreams?” He asked suddenly. I turned to look at him, surprise and confusion painting my expression. “I- um.” He stuttered, clearing his throat before continuing, “You haven't been sleeping…” 

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding and sighed as I sunk back against his warmth. “I’ve just been going a little stir crazy is all.” And when he didn’t reply added, “And it’s cold as hell here at night. I don't know how anyone gets any sleep.”

“Well go into town today, let Grimshaw do her own damn chores for once.” He said, as if it were that simple, and for him I’m sure it was. I didn’t want to admit the real reason I’d confined myself to camp the past few weeks… couldn’t bring myself to say the word, scared. I was scared. I’d made it my mission the last year to improve my knife and bow skills so I’d never feel helpless again, and I’d done a damn good job of it. But the memory of the raiders, the trauma I'd endured at their hands… It wasn’t easily forgotten. And although I could effortlessly take down an Elk, a dozen men with nothing but malice coursing through their veins was a different story entirely. 

When my silence dragged on Micah added, “I can come with ya, if you want.” I perked up, my heart fluttering at the idea of spending a day with him. 

“Would- Would you go hunting with me?” I asked, suddenly excited for what the day ahead of me held. Finally, I thought, something other than chores! Micah let out a breathy laugh and flicked the butt of his cigarette to the ground. 

“Animals?” He said with a theatrical sigh, “It’s not really my… area of expertise.” But after a moment relented, “Alright..." He drawled, "What are we huntin’?” A wide smile spread across my face as I looked up at him, “Yotes!” I said, the excitement clear in my voice. I’d been dying to get some pelts to make myself a propper, warm bed. 

Micah laughed, a genuine, deep laugh that shook me. “Coyote's it is then.” And pulled me in closer to his chest with a sigh. “Maybe I-” He started, a hand idly playing with a strand of my hair as he searched for what to say. “Could I teach you how to shoot?” He whispered into my brow. 

“I know how to shoot.” I said and he quickly retorted, “A gun darlin’.”

I hummed, feigning that I had to think it over. I’d wanted to ask him to teach me to shoot the first time I saw him twirl his revolvers around his fingers. “Sure.” I said finally, “But I don’t have a gun.” 

“I can fix that.” He said, getting up and stretching a hand out to me. The smile he gave me was soft and sweet, his silver-blue eyes alight. He looked like he’d emerged from a painting. The sun behind him gave the appearance that he glowed with golden light, beckoning me toward him like some rugged, gunslinging siren. I took his hand and let him pull me up, our hands lingering in each others for a moment longer than need be. 

He leaned down then, picking up his hat and dusting the sand from it before placing it on my head. “Looks better on you.” He said quickly, his voice a bit rough, and turned back toward camp. Blush burned at my cheeks as I watched him walk off, my eyes lingering on his broad back, his hips… “Comin’?” He yelled back at me, and I jolted, hurrying to catch up with him.

[cablecar-s]

to love and self loathe

part 1 part 2

WHO ARE YOU? I AM– WHO ARE YOU? I AM–

"This is a joke right?"

The Spider was currently at her work place, standing in front of her boss; all the while said boss was going through the limited and slightly blurry photos she was barely able to obtain that week.

Honestly the female vigilante was very drained that day, and being nagged by her boss was the last thing she needed at the moment.

"I can barely use these photos for an article you know." She sighed out, throwing the printed out photos down onto her desk. 

Letting out a small sigh, the vacationing Spider pinched the bridge of her nose. "With all due respect ma'am, I'm quite literally risking my safety while trying to take pictures of these vigilantes, even with them around there's no telling what would happen to me if I were to let my guard down."

Looking at her boss, she gave her best polite smile, though it came more forced than anything. "So if you could so kindly give me more than just a week to hand in the photos of Gotham's vigilantes, I can guarantee you, you will be able to obtain the photos you have high expectations for."

Crossing her arms, she stared at the woman who sat behind her desk, speaking once more before the demon of a boss could cut her off.

"But, if you so badly need these photos by the end of each week, I would not mind you having to heavily compensate me if something were to happen in order to obtain those photos." Smiling tightly, the air was tense between the two woman.

Staring each other down, the woman with a higher status let out a small sigh.

"Fine. Just make sure the photos are of better quality when you turn them in." She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms.

A bit of satisfaction lifted the vigilante's mood a bit, a small smile on her lips. "Maybe if you were to give me a raise it would motivate me more to give high class photos." 

She watched as the woman frowned at her, telling her to not push it while calling her by her last name. The two only stared at each other more though until the older woman finally relented, too tired to put up with all of her employees' bullshit.

"Get the hell out of here." She waved the young woman away, who only left her office with a happy hum and a higher paycheck.

Maybe things were starting to look up for her, at least she hoped. Walking down the street, she made her way over to a small coffee shop that seemed to be mainly empty. 

Opening the door, a man who stood in front of the register gave her a tired greeting. Asking for a minute, she looked at the menu above her head, her eyes skimming through the multitude of drinks, wondering which one she would get, as well as debating if she should get something sweet for herself.

All the while, two men entered the small shop and stood behind her, their voices in a not so low whisper.

"Is Black Mask crazy!?" The second man practically yelled.

The first man tried to shush him. "Quiet you idiot! You tryna tell the whole world 'bout Black Mask's plan!?" He hissed.

'Black Mask? As in Roman Sionis?' She furrowed her brows, staying quiet as they talked, though the shop went quiet, and the hair on the back of her neck began to stand up, the familiar tingling feeling coming to her.

Her eyes darted up to the convex mirror that was placed at a corner of the ceiling of the shop, and she could clearly see the two men staring at the back of her head.

Shit.

"I'm ready to order!" The woman quickly said, making the employee look at her with expectancy.

She began to make her order, watching as the employee began to punch in her order into the computer. She started to ramble a bit as well, trying to not make the men so suspicious of her, talking off the employee's ear off about how she wasn't able to choose from all the many options on the menu.

Glancing at the convex mirror again, the two men seemed to have decided to leave her alone for now, continuing to talk behind her.

"Won't the bats and all the other scary assholes come and get us though?" The second man questioned.

"That's why boss decided to plan a decoy that's far from the Wayne Mansion! While they're all busy tryna take us all down at the warehouse, the rest of us are gonna be crashin' that brat's birthday!" 

Wayne Mansion..? Birthday..?

"Here's your order ma'am." The employee set down a to go cup and box, making her quickly snap out of it.

"Thank you." She beamed, leaving a generous tip, a way to apologize for talking their ear off.

Quickly leaving the shop, concern began to grow in the pit of her stomach. She wasn't too familiar with all of Gotham's criminals, but she did know of Black Mask. A man who strikes fear in all. Runs multiple drug cartels and has other illegal businesses, that, unless you want to end up on his list, it would be best to not dig too deep into what he does.

While walking back to her apartment, the tingling sensation came back, her senses heightening. She soon heard two pair of footsteps follow behind her.

So they did realize she was eavesdropping on them.

The vigilante quickened her pace, sharply turning a corner into an alleyway.

"Get the bitch!" One of the men yelled. 

Chasing after her, they ran into the alley, but they only found it empty.

"Where the hell did she go?" One growled.

"Who cares, lets just hurry up and find her before she ends up spilling the beans to the cops, or worse.." They quickly left the alleyway, running off, not knowing that she was right above them.

Her heart pounded against her chest, her to-go box balancing on top of her cup of coffee as she had climbed up the wall. 

Once they had completely left, she jumped down from the wall, letting out a sigh of relief, both her coffee and cake weren't dropped. Peeking from the alleyway, she looked both ways twice, before quickly making her way back to her apartment, her eyes darting around every corner once more, straining her ears for any footsteps that followed her. 

When she got to her apartment, she had locked her door and all her windows, setting her now cold coffee and cake onto her kitchen counter.

Letting out a tired sigh, she sat down on her couch, closing her eyes for a moment to catch her breath and calm down.

Gotham was nothing like New York. Although both were quite crime filled, New York didn't seem as bad as Gotham was. 

Running a hand through her hair, the words of Black Mask's men rang in her head. Pressing her lips into a line, she reminded herself that she was taking a break from being Spider-Woman, maybe even for good. She couldn't let another innocent life die to her hands.

Her leg began to bounce, her eyes almost staring a whole into her laptop, curiosity and anxiety eating at her.

"I'll only be taking a look, it's fine.." She muttered, giving in to her impulses. Opening her laptop, she quickly began to type away, researching as to what the two criminals were talking about.

Her eyes skimmed through every article about Bruce Wayne and this birthday party that he was holding. It seemed he was celebrating his youngest son's birthday at the end of this week, and from what information she had gotten back at the coffee shop, she figured that Black Mask was going to take the boy hostage, most likely wanting money from Bruce Wayne.

She had to do something, she couldn't—

No. 

Nope! No way!

She said she was going to step away from being Spider-Woman, so she should do exactly that. No more living like a vigilante, and instead live like an innocent civilian. It's fine, all those other vigilantes can take care of it. There's like, what? Seven? Eight of them?

Closing her laptop, she let out a small sigh.

"We're starting anew, remember?" She muttered to herself, getting off the couch so she could get away from her laptop and treat herself to the small coffee and cake she had bought herself.

But as she sat down, no appetite had come to her, and the coffee wasn't good anymore now that it was cold.

Everything is fine. The others can handle the situation when it comes.

Right?

. . .

Wrong.

The days continued to go by, and each and every day the woman would stare at her closet, her mind going back to what she had learned, only to try and convince herself that she wasn't needed. 

Her life as Spider-Woman had come to a close, and she made her peace with that.

Yet, why is it that on the day of Damian Wayne's birthday party, she was staring at her spider suit that was splayed out on her bed.

Closing her eyes, she rubbed her temples, heavily debating of going or not.

'Remember, with great power...'

"...Comes with great responsibility." She sighed out, finishing the quote that the ghost of her uncle reminded her of. "Yeah.. Yeah I know Uncle Ben.."

Looking at her spider suit, she couldn't help but slightly smile, seeing it again. "Lets save this party then, if they need me that is.." 

Quickly suiting up, she put her web shooters on and left through her window.

---

Shit shit shit shit.

Jason was running late.

He had just finished dealing with Black Mask's men, who were in the opposite direction of the mansion. Honestly, Sionis really thought that he could get away from his watch by using a warehouse at the edge of Gotham? 

Yeah right.

Taking a quick shower, he got himself dressed, ignoring the obvious dress code to dress fancy, fuck that.

Leaving his safehouse, he drove off into the streets of Gotham, taking one of the many roads to the Batcave. 

The sound of his motorcycle roared to life, speeding past the many traffic lights, his helmet glinting under the street lamps. Jason went through one of the many secret tunnels under Gotham to get to the Batcave, his tires screeching to a halt once he was at his destination.

Something still didn't feel right to Jason, a gut feeling as one would call it. While taking off his helmet, he ran a hand through his hair, trying to not make it seem so matted from his helmet.

Kicking out the stand of his bike, he left his helmet on the seat before making his way up the stairs and out into the mansion. Jason stared down at the ground, his feet leading him to the room where Bruce always held his parties. 

Deep in thought, he ended up not taking notice of a butler who had instead noticed him. About to open the door, an all too familiar voice spoke out to him.

"Master Todd."

He jumped a bit, about to take out his gun until the person spoke up again.

"It is just me Master Todd." Alfred spoke up, causing Jason to freeze in his movements, once realizing who it was that called to him.

Looking over at the butler, Jason gave a small smile, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

"Hey Alfred." He greeted.

Alfred smiled at him. "I see you were able to make it to Master Damian's party after all."

Jason chuckled at this. "Couldn't keep the brat disappointed." 

The butler chuckled as well, taking in the second Robin, for not having seen him in a long time. Walking towards him, he rested his hand onto his shoulder, having to tilt his head up ever so slightly from how tall he is now.

"It is good to see you dear boy." 

"Yeah, you too."

"And though I am glad to see you have made it to the party, I hope you weren't thinking of bringing that gun with you." The older man rose a brow at the young adult, to which Jason slightly scoffed.

"C'mon Alfred, you should know I wouldn't bring a gun to a fancy party." He tried to play off.

Jason only watched as the butler had an unconvinced look on his face and soon extended his hand out and waited patiently.

Nothing really did ever go pass him.

With a chuckle, Jason held his hands up in defeat and took out the gun that was hiding within his jacket and set it into Alfred's gloved hand.

Alfred only gave him a knowing look, eyebrow still raised, making Jason laughed just a tiny bit more.

"That's all I brought, I swear." He gave a boyish grin, making Alfred chuckle a bit, a hum leaving him.

"I will take your word for it then Master Todd. You may have it back once the party is over. Have fun, and make sure to not cause trouble." He smiled before leaving Jason by himself.

With a small smile, Jason watched him walk away before turning a corner, disappearing from sight. Turning back around, he stared at the door that led to the ballroom. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to calm his nerves.

Opening them back up, he twisted the door handle and made his way in the room. Inside, he was met with music playing mixed with the conversations of different aristocrats of Gotham, all of them talking amongst themselves.

Jason never liked these parties, even when he was Robin, they were always stuffy and full of fake smiles. He shuffled his way over to the corner of the room, watching everyone chat among themselves.

Leaning against the wall, he crossed his arms and just people watched, not wanting to draw any attention to himself, that is until he was quickly found by his annoying brother: Dick Head.

"Hey! Jaybird!" Dick called out.

Jason slightly glared at him with how loud he was, all the while the first Robin glided his way over to him with ease.

"Thought I wouldn't be seeing you until tomorrow." He grinned, handing him a glass of champagne.

Taking it graciously, he took a sip of it, looking at Dick for a moment before back at the crowd. 

"Yeah well I didn't have anything else to do tonight so I thought I'd just drop by." He replied nonchalantly.

Of course, this statement was partially true.

Dick only chuckled at this, glancing at Jason only to look out at the crowd as well. "Right." He hummed. "Did you at least go see Damian?"

"Not yet, it seems he's busy being coddled." Jason let out a huff of amusement as he tilted his head over to where Damian was at the moment.

Looking over, Dick could see Damian not seeming the least bit happy as his cheeks were being pinched by a few elderly women, Bruce standing behind him to make sure that Damian doesn't do anything that'll cause a scene. 

"He's busy alright." The first Robin snickered a bit, crossing his arms.

The two brothers soon ended up in a slightly awkward silence, both Robins not knowing what else to talk about. Jason had taken a quick glance at Dick, his fingers drumming against his bicep, mentally debating over whether it was okay for him to ask how the others were or not.

Grimacing a bit, Jason kept mulling it over, clearly overthinking it, until his 'fuck it' mentality kicked in.

"Hey—"

BOOM!

People screamed at the loud and sudden noise, rubble splaying everywhere in every direction while the mansion shook at the explosion.

 "Nobody move!! Or the brat gets it!"

To everyone's horror, people looked and watched as one of Mask's men had an arm securely wrapped around Damian Wayne's neck, while the barrel of a gun was pressed harshly against his temple.

Jason and Dick glanced at each other, the both of them having the same idea. Quick and quiet on their feet, they stuck close to the walls of the ballroom. The two men slightly hunched over, they took advantage of the large and panicked crowd to slip out of the ballroom. 

"I knew Sionis was planning something." Jason snarled, a few steps quicker than Dick. Making his way to the grandfather clock, he moved the hands to 10:48 and the large clock soon swung open, Jason entering first with Dick following behind him.

"Are you saying you knew Black Mask was going to crash the party today?" Dick furrowed his brows, the two men quickly going down the metal stairs, their footsteps echoing against the cave walls.

"What? No!" Jason exclaimed, furrowing his brows. 

Walking to his bike he put his helmet on, the inside of his helmet coming to life. Turning around to face his brother, Jason quickly shielded his eyes, seeing for a split second that he was stripping himself of his clothes.

"Woah! Really Dick!?" Jason exclaimed.

"Relax! I got my suit under here!" The first Robin laughed out. 

The second Robin only grumbled, hesitantly looking over, only to see that the oldest was telling the truth, his arms stretched out to present himself, a shit eating grin on his face.

"See?"

"Dickhead.." Jason muttered under his breath and began to walk away from him to one of Bruce's trophy cases.

Dick only laughed, grabbing his escrima sticks he left when he came to the Batcave after patrol. Making his way over to Jason, he watched over his shoulder as his brother had pulled at a trophy, the part of the back wall of the trophy case having flipped to reveal two pistols.

Dick whistled at this. "When'd you have time to do that?"

"I have a lot of free time." Jason mused, his voice modulated from his helmet. Checking out his guns and making sure they were in top form, he looked at Dick and nodded his head to the entrance. "Lets go."

The two exited the Batcave, jogging back to the ballroom.

"So what did Black Mask plan?" Dick questioned.

"What?" Jason glanced at Dick, the two stopping in front of the door.

Dick huffed, putting his hands on his hips. "You said he was planning something?" 

"I didn't know he was planning to crash the party, but he made some scam shipment on the opposite side from the mansion. Too bad for Sionis that I work fast." 

"And sloppy."

Jason glared at Dick who only shrugged, smiling a bit. "Let's just go." He muttered.

Taking hold of the door knob, Jason glanced over at Dick who only nodded to let him know he was ready. Swinging the door open, the two vigilantes readied their weapons, ready to take on Black Mask's men.

Only, it seemed they were already beaten to it, almost.

In the middle of the ballroom, Damian was still being held hostage, but now, standing a few feet away from them, and talking, was what seemed to be another vigilante? Her suit being very plain, the only thing really noticeable was the spider insignia on her chest, the webs that decorated her suit, and the very big lenses that were supposed to be her eyes.

"I mean, really! Who brings guns to a party as fancy as this! And on the kid's birthday too? Now that's a low blow."

Jason and Dick looked at each other, slightly confused.

Just who the hell was she?

part 1 part 2

next chapter ->

[dukeofdelirium]

In complete honesty, I kind of wish that Stranger Things would have just been two high quality seasons. They should have let El die in S1, and then focused on Mike, Will, and the origins of the Upside Down in S2. At this point, the story has been dragged on for so long, and, if S5 fails to recontextualize a lot of things from S3 and S4, there was a lot of unnecessary filler that just weighed the entire show down.

I agree with this pretty heavily. It’s obvious that they dragged storylines out and didn’t have everything completely plotted by how dysfunctional s3 and 4 are in comparison with s1 and 2. It almost feels like two completely different shows. When s3 first aired, I almost didn’t finish it because I hated it that much. S4 was pretty similar tbh… the NINA plotline and the Russian shit was so terrible that me and my sister debated skipping the scenes I’m not even kidding lol. Literally the only thing that kept us watching vol 2 was any crumb of Mike and Will scenes and then seeing what happened with Max. That was fr it. The second we finished vol 2 we immediately turned off the tv and then started shit talking it 😂 we were NOT impressed lol.

The Russian plot was dumb as fuck in s3, and it was even worse in s4. Literally the dumbest thing this show ever tried to pull and comes across as more unbelievable than inter-dimensional monsters lol. Idgaf about the Russian fuckery. It’s fucking stupid as hell and I can feel myself losing braincells in real time whenever I have to rewatch scenes of it. Idgaf about the NINA bullshit, when the hell are we gonna move on from this dumb lab/rainbow room/Papa nonsense and get to shit that really matters?

The whole Russian thing is actually what makes the Hawkins lab and stuff dumb lol bc it went from the American gov being the enemy to now suddenly it’s evil Russians like stfu get out of here with this nonsense I cantttttt

And don’t even get me started on the dumb relationship drama in s3. If I wanted to watch a show about middle schoolers making out I wouldn’t be looking for it in stranger things, that’s first of all. Second of all, none of this has any depth and the only reason it matters in any context is to develop Byler and their rain scene is one of the only memorable scenes of the season. Idgaf about hopper and Joyce acting like 12 year olds. Idgaf about Billy’s wack ass redemption. Idgaf that El raises her hand and screams for the billionth time or that she loses her powers cuz guess what… she gets them back. *pretends to be shocked*

Fr, s5 has to recontextualize multiple seasons or else this show will have been a huge disappointment. S4 was ok. But as I said, that’s all it was. Okay. Not great. Not even necessarily good. Just meh. The only good parts were the Hawkins group with Max (she was the best part of the season) and then Mike and Will’s scenes. That’s literally it lmao. The Russian plot? Dumb. El and the NINA shit? Dumb. Yawn, don’t care. Let me spend time with characters I care about please and thank you.

I long for the return of s2 quality….. when Mike realizes Will is compromised and that he’s the spy and Will sends all those soldiers to their gruesome deaths…. come on that was peak cinema. Bring it back. I miss it…. we were a country once

[brain-rot-central]

Please by all means poke holes in my background theory for Astarion because I'm not terribly familiar with DnD lore but here it goes:

1) He's half star elf and half moon elf. From my understanding, star elves were very cautious about interacting with humans but were very close with moon elves, almost keeping an eye on them. They believed moon elves to be naive for forging such casual relations with humans, and it's possibly somewhere between those interactions is how his parents met. I also have an entirely different head canon where his father was a traveler (apparently common with moon elves) and met his mother (star elf) turning his travels.

2) I think the most likely place for Astarion to have grown up would be Evereska (if he's forgotten almost everything about who he was prior to death how is that he recalls Evereska and their precious moonstones?), but I think he grew tired of it as he approached adulthood. He likely had a mischievous personality and a thirst for adventure, so he left in his early 20s and made his way to Baldur's Gate, seeking a more fast-paced life.

3) I don't think Astarion was part of nobility much at all prior to reaching BG, but I do think he's always had a taste for the finer things in life and was blessed with a silver tongue. Him mentioning how a handsome face can open many doors leads me to believe that he's used to talking his way up the ladder, and befriended a number of well-off individuals not long after his arrival.

4) His living situation was not glamorous. He led a double life: drinking high quality champagne with nobles at soirees on the weekends while seamlessly pilfering their pockets in order to survive. He had an apartment in the Lower City above a clothing shop, which is where he learned to sew. He offloaded whatever jewelry or trinkets he stole in order to pay his way through law school. Astarion was very much an "eat the rich," kind of person upon first arrival in BG.

5) Part of Astarion's EA backstory was that he was a corrupt magistrate who was popular with BG's noble class. I think where his corruption started was his tendency to take bribes from individuals looking to have laws passed in their favor.

Once he got a taste of living large, Astarion was obsessed with it, never wanting to go back to stealing in order to eat. He was a terribly gifted magistrate; could argue almost any point with such strong conviction, and won nearly all of his cases.

This is how he met Cazador. Yes, I hc that he knew Cazador before everything happened. The Szarr family is well-known in BG, being one of the most wealthy families in residence. I believe Cazador sought Astarion out by word of mouth in an effort to influence changes in laws that would make it easier for certain types of individuals to end up missing without much follow-up.

6) I think after a time, Astarion turned into a true piece of shit. I don't think he was a nice person at all. He was completely blind-sighted by money, and Cazador often would throw him thousands in gold to make certain cases against Cazador "disappear," just as easily as his victims did. But I don't believe Astarion knew he was a vampire. Not up until that fateful night.

7) As terrible as the Gur were rumored to be, they still were monster hunters. And I believe that Cazador got tired of paying Astarion for his services after taking notice of how personable he was, and how easily people flocked to him. I believe it was Cazador who tipped off the Gur to true the nature of many of Astarion's rulings, leading to them attacking him and Cazador's subsequent subjugation of Astarion.

And then the rest of his life flows as BG3 states. 200 years of slavery under Cazador. 🙃

[jaslan4f1]

Love at 300 km/h LN4 Part 2

Masterlist

Warnings: friends to lover kinda thing, fluff & angst (I actually cried while writing this)

Notes: english is not my native language so this may contain consistency errors, i would really appreciate the corrections but please, be kind. feedback is also appreciated ♡

Summary: You and Lando are close but neither of you tried being more than friends. What happens when you both finally realize that love is right infront of you?

~ This is actually a story related to my own life right know. I have a driver friend that I’m crushing on and some events are in this story. Haha

You never wanted Lando to race for points that badly in your life. Was he really feeling the same you thought? His quality hasn’t been so good yesterday. He finished P15 so he had to fight to come to P4. You wanted him to finish that high and he wanted to take you out properly. You listened to everything the commentator said. Lando was now at P8. Gasly was infront of him. “Will Lando get pass Gasly? And with DRS Lando Norris passes Piere Gasly. What a great race for the McLaren driver“ the one commentator said enthusiastic. „Yay Lando, he is surprisingly very determined to get some points and drive into the top 5. I wonder where this comes from?“ the other commentator responded. Just 6 more laps…will Lando manage to get to P4? But to your surprise Landos car got even faster and he even got passed George and Lewis. “Great Lando you doing amazing“ was what you heard from Landos radio. “Thanks guys the car is great and my motivation is even higher today. Lets keep pushing for P4“ was Landos respond. You smiled when you heard his voice. Moments later Lando was just one position away from P4. You prayed for a miracle that he will get passed Stroll. And then something strange happened. Aston Martin wanted Stroll to pit on the last two laps. That made Landos position clear. He was P4. “Yes baby I knew you could do it“ you screamed as you threw your fist in the air. Lando ended with that position. He could wait to call you and take the next plane to you. He couldn’t stop from smiling, even in his interview he was asked why he was smiling so much. “Oh you know the race was just very good and I just had a great motivator“ he teased. You knew that his fans were going to get crazy about his comment. You quickly took your phone and started to take some photos for him. You promised him to send him these if he finishes P4. You took a few pics till you were happy with on of them. You looked very cute in one of his perch hoodies. You didn’t even think twice and send him the pic with a little caption: “Hopping to hear from you after your duties. Call me x Y/n. PS: You did amazing <3“

“I think your friend just texted you“ Landos media manager told him and gave him his phone. Without thinking Lando opened your chat. He saw your picture. You were in fact wearing his hoodie but he could also see that you weren’t wearing any sweatpants. Your legs were just being covered by his oversized hoodie. When he read your caption he smiled. “You little teaser“ he said to himself. After the dinner he had with Carlos he went straight to his hotel room. He unlooked his phone and went straight to the Facetime icon. He couldn’t just hear your voice, he had to see you. “Lando?“ a black screen and a sleepy voice accepted his call. “Fuck did I woke you up?“ he didn’t thought about your time change. “You kinda did but its ok now I’m awake anyway“ you said with a raspy voice. He loved your sleepy figure and voice. You turned your light in your bedroom on and looked at your phone. Lando looked tried. “You look like shit“ you said and laughed. “Well that’s nice. Thanks I thought you wanted to congratulate me but that’s also fine I guess“ he laughed. You stoped laughing and looked at you. Even tho he wasn’t with you this moment it still felt like he was sitting next to you. “So in that case…congratulation to P4 mister Norris“ your shyly voice made Lando grin. “Thanks I would love to talk longer to you but you should sleep and I should too.“ Your smile faded. “I guess you’re right. Hear from you soon?“ you asked sadly not wanting to end this call just now. You guys wished each other a good night and ended the call.

Lando was at the airport waiting with Carlos and Charles for their private yet. “Hey mate why are you so nervous?“ Charles asked. “Well I kinda have a date with Y/N when I get back to Monaco“ both Ferrari driver looked surprised at him. “Wait Y/N Y/N? Your best friend Y/N?“ Carlos asked “Pierres ex friends with benefit Y/N?“ Charles asked. Landos and Carlos eyes widened. “What?“ Lando asked. “Lando calm down I was just probably just a joke right…right Charles?“ Carlos said and prayed that Charles would get the hint. In that moment Pierre walked by. “You slept with my Y/N?“ Landos angry voice cracked. “Ok guys I thought we agreed not to tell him“ Pierre looked to the Ferrari driver. “Sorry mate it slipped out“ both said. Lando looked back. “Wait you both knew and didn’t told me? You knew how much I liked her and that for many years“ tears forming in his eyes. You meant the world for him. He didn’t really liked Pierre but he also didn’t dislike him. But he hated to fact that you were intimate with another driver and haven’t told him. It felt like every moment he thought you guys were crushing on each other was fake. “If it calms you down it was just for 3 months and she ended it“ Pierre said. Lando rushed to the bathroom he had to hear it from you. He wanted to call you but that would be childish. He knew what his first thing in Monaco was going to be. And boy he hoped that it was a bad joke.

a/n; I know it got a bit sad but I swear it will all add up in the end.

[stormyoceans]

hey girl write down your top 7 (this is nice number😋) of js's fav photo shoots, images

THIS IS SUCH A GREAT QUESTION AND 7 IS INDEED A VERY NICE NUMBER BUT IN THIS PARTICULAR CASE IT MIGHT BE A WAY TOO SMALL ONE LIKE HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO PICK ONLY 7 PICTURES FROM JIMMYSEA PHOTOSHOOTS WHEN WE GOT SO MANY JUST THESE PAST COUPLE OF MONTHS ✋😭

i mean of course im still gonna try to do it, but know im throwing up all the blood in my body every step of the way and that if you ask me this question again in a couple of weeks the answer might be different ;;;;;;;

ANYWAY HERE GOES NOTHING!!!!!!!!

1. the chemistry in front of this fish tank is astronomical from LEMON Magazine. sorry idk what else to say except that they're literally just looking at each other and yet every time i so much as barely glance at it i still find myself in a dead faint in front of my screen drowning in the sheer incomprehensible levels of magnetism electricity tension vibes oozing from this one (1) single still image. like i know maybe it's weird to put it in first place since it only has their faces and nothing else but it really makes feel in dire need of a mental health crisis intervention team THIS IS WHAT THE WALLS OF MY PADDED ROOM LOOK LIKE

2. forehead touch from Starry Magazine. WHAT CAN I SAY IM NOT IMMUNE TO FOREHEAD TOUCHES. they're giving such effervescent 'we are so deeply intertwined and enthralled by each other that everything else just falls away' vibes that i can even look past the school boys attire this picture is just THAT beautiful. also the tenderness!!!!!!!! the sunflower!!!!!!!! I AM BUT A WEAK WOMAN

3. cuntitude Xtreme100 from ViVi men. invented maximizing their joint slay and serving so much coquettecore cuntism it makes me act deeply unwise. idek what's the worst (read: best) part of it all if jimmy's bold jewelries or sea's outfit that exposes the mole on his chest for the world to see or how fluffy their hair look or the way jimmy is resting his arms on sea's shoulder while sea's head is turned just enough to brush against jimmy's all i know is that whoever styled them for this shoot deserves a raise and a kiss on the mouth.

4. interconnectedness from PRAEW Magazine. look me in the eyes and tell me this doesn't belong in the louvre with a little tag on display under it that shows this exact title like with all due respect to my man leonardo but the mona lisa ain't shit compared to this picture. it should be studied in art classes all around the world for its lines and composition and contemporary figuration and how the intertwinement of the bodies is a metaphor for the mingling of souls throughout lifetimes. OR SOMETHING LIKE THAT.

5. whole face economy in one image from Mint Magazine. never in the history of the whole entire world have two people looked more stunning like the visual excellence displayed here never fails to propel me into an entire different reality. the other reason i love this one so much is that this is their usual pose but for once sea is the one holding jimmy and that truly makes me feel some type of way, the photographer really was on some galaxy brain shit for this one.

6. sea's oral fixation from ViVi men. at first i didn't want to put two pictures from the same shoot on the list just to give more variety but im currently too rabid about this one to leave it out. im not sure what compelled sea to put one of the strings from jimmy's hoodie in his mouth but that sure was. A CHOICE. i also love jimmy's smile and the more casual clothes and sea's silly goose vibes and how warm and huggable and comfort shaped they look.

7. high fantasy concept from LEMON Magazine. once again i didn't want to put two pictures from the same shoot but i think this ones deserves a place on here even just for how original it is like THE VISION THE TASTE THE FLAVOUR THE STYLE THE INSPIRATION THE QUALITY THE VIBES CHINESE MAGAZINES TRULY ARE ON SUCH A COMPLETE DIFFERENT LEVEL OF CREATIVITY GMMTV WISHES IT COULD COME UP WITH SUCH INCREDIBLE OUT OF THIS WORLD IDEAS.

[tomorrowillbeyou]

do u have a song thats just your enemy like you hate it so much. its your enemy

answering this before ur other ask because it's sooo much easier.... from maybe the 4th or 5th time i ever heard it i have DESPISED crazy=genius by brendon urie. it pisses me off so bad that in high school it used to be my alarm because i would hear the first like 2 seconds and jump out of bed to turn it off. the stupid heyeyey part makes me genuinely fucking lose it. i HATE the lyrics sooo much they're stupid and smug and like sooo quirky omg and the fucking brian wilson shit makes me SEE RED and then the way he says "DENNIS wilson!!" like it's the coolest thing he ever thought of . some of the instrumentation is kind of decent like in the verses and bridge its kind of fun but every time i think im getting into it i get interrupted by brendon urie wailing about how he's soooo crazy and u can't take him anywhere ! and the whole attitude pisses me off like in an alternate universe u could write a song called crazy=genius and it would be an actual interesting take on the idea presented in the title but whatever . ! and actually no (the reason im saying so much is because i went and listened to it to be accurate and realised i had way more to say) the whole chorus is so dumb "if crazy=genius then im a fuckin arsonist im a rocket scientist" 1. Ur not an arsonist ur some fucking guy from utah who got big off someone else's songs and r superficially acting like u can still put out the same quality while having nothing interesting to say like he did (sorry for bringing ryan into this i prommy this isn't about him or anything like that it's about the song i just had to mention) .. like the way this has a slight tinge of fever abt it in some aspects of the style (im mainly thinking theres a good reason...) makes me even more mad because it reminds me how fever was actually good and had something to SAY!!! and this feels like him jingling keys like hey guys remember that ! i can still do that 😀 no u can't! and 2. doesn't even make logical sense what do u MEAN. if crazy=genius then im crazy and also im genius ? NO u havent already established that ur either of those so the conclusion DOES NOT follow from the premise!! u could be neither and im starting to suspect thats the case!! ANYWAY THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE 3 SENTENCES! MY APOLOGIES!

[yeetmeoutthewindowdaddy]

Information about the Tav I ship with Rolan in my fics:

Figured I should describe the Tav that I envision when I'm writing about him and Rolan.

Unless otherwise stated, this Tav is the Tav who is in every one of my Rolan x Tav fics.

I used a mix of BG3 and DND 5e/ 5.5e mechanics to make this Tav.

This specific Tav isn't playable in BG3. But idgaf, horny brain go brrr.

I can't draw for shit, so I used the Tiefling Maker by Crowesn on Picrew to make the closest approximation of what this Tav looks likes in my mind. Please go check out the maker, it's amazing!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Epilogue stats:

Level: 12

Class: Bard 7, Monk 5

Subclass: College of Dance, Way of the Drunken Master

Ability scores:

Very high: 18 CHA, 17 DEX, 16 WIS High: 15 STR, 14 CON Low: 8 INT

Basic information:

Name: Tav Atarmin

Age: 27

Sex/Gender: Male

Species: 1/4 minotaur, 3/4 human

Build: Big and beefy (think of Dwayne Johnson/Jason Momoa)

Height: 6'7" (7'2" with horns)

Weight: 315 lbs.

Hair: Black, curly, long, luscious, mullet-esque, often in a low ponytail.

Facial hair: Black, balbo goatee (sans moustache)

Eyes: Bright lizard green irises, black pupils, white sclera.

Skin: Sepia brown skin that turns into short fur further out from the center of his face.

Piercings: Seamless hoop septum/bull ring, 2 (parallel) vertical eyebrow rings/hoops on left eyebrow.

Voice: Warm rich bass, has a wide vocal range, sounds like Colm R. McGuinness when he sings. (Please check out his covers of Enemy and Hallelujah, he is waaaay too underrated for how talented he is.)

Other: Beauty mark on right cheek, light splattering of freckles, cow ears, hooves instead of feet, ivory colored horns, sharp canines and molars, no tail, 5 fingers on each hand, ambidextrous, fingernails are naturally black and claw-like (files/blunts them so he won't accidently hurt his instruments or bedpartners), nails are often painted.

Diet: Omnivore. Prefers meat and most vegetables raw, but will eat them cooked. He eats beef— he knows he's part beef, he does not care "Because beef tastes good." He is pretty sure he won't get a prion disease from what could technically be considered partial-cannibalism.

Likes: Spicy food, music, playing instruments, dancing, performing, snapdragons (esp. red and purple), "verbal jousting", sex, being thirsted over, quality goods, gold, flirting, Rolan, cats, fun, lazy days, adventuring, tea (both the drink and the drama), jokes, exercising, dime novels copper novels.

Dislikes: Bland food, injustice, discrimination, watered down alcoholic drinks, blood oranges, anyone who hurts those he cares about or the innocent, hangovers, creepy porcelain dolls, imaginary numbers, the Absolute, being bored.

Personality: Laid back, easy going, humorous, playful, flirty, bold, forward, mischievous, silver-tongued, charming, adventurous, helpful, kind, stubborn, cunning, cocksure, slow to anger (rages like a barbarian when angered), full of wanderlust, distractible, himbo, caring, indulgent, somewhat pragmatic, secretly a hopeless-romantic, suave, horny, goofy, generally level headed, proud, diplomatic, smooth, jovial, faux-naïf (uses people's perception of him as a way to make them underestimate him— he acts like a stupid drunk bard to catch his enemies off guard. He is stupid, but he's smarter than he lets on— his WIS score is doing some real heavy lifting.)

Background information:

Alignment: Chaotic good

Personality Traits:

Nobody stays angry at me or around me for long, since I can defuse any amount of tension.

I love a good insult, even one directed at me.

I judge people by their actions, not their words.

I’m confident in my own abilities and do what I can to instill confidence in others.

Ideals:

Respect. People deserve to be treated with dignity and respect. (Good)

People. I like seeing the smiles on people’s faces when I perform. That’s all that matters. (Neutral)

Creativity. The world is in need of new ideas and bold action. (Chaotic)

Freedom. Chains are meant to be broken, as are those who would forge them. (Chaotic)

Bonds:

I protect those who cannot protect themselves.

I fight for those who cannot fight for themselves.

Those who fight beside me are those worth dying for.

Secretly— I am desperately searching for "the one", my soulmate.

Flaws:

Once I pick a goal, I become obsessed with it to the detriment of everything else in my life.

I can't resist a pretty face.

I once satirized a noble who still wants my head. It was a mistake that I will likely repeat.

I have an insatiable desire for carnal pleasures.

Romantic information:

Sexual orientation: Pansexual, but has a strong preference for men/people who present or identify as masc.

Love Languages (G)iving/(R)eceiving: Words of affirmation (G,R), gift giving (G,R), physical touch (G,R), acts of service (G,R), quality time (G,R).

Type of lover: The "Get you a man who sexually dominates you but who also is caring and loving" meme.

His type: "Spicy", bratty, tsundere, smart, talented, tiefling, confident, easily flustered, caring.

Relationship style: No strings attached/noncommittal until he finds "The One". After he finds his "true love" he'd be ethically non-monogamous or into swinging. (If his partner is okay with it.)

Other: Believes that lust and love are not intrinsically linked with one another. He is secretly a hopeless-romantic who believes he has one true love/a soul mate. His normally high charisma stat flies out the window when he tries to flirt with someone who he actually wants to date. Vacillates between cocksure and sheepish around Rolan, he's in love and doesn't know what to do about it. Lust, he can handle. But love? He's out of his depth. The dime novels copper novels he enjoys reading didn't prepare him for how overwhelming romantic feelings would be— he thought that love would feel like lust with a smidge more emotional intensity/intimacy, not a tsunami wave threatening to drown him.

NSFW information:

Genitals: 9", thick, veiny, semi-retractable minotaur penis. Big hairy breeder balls.

Piercings: Prince Albert, guiche, both nipples.

Sex drive: High, the horny bard trope exists for a reason.

Role: Prefers to top but is willing to bottom. Is a dom who will sub, albeit rarely.

Kinks: Breeding, daddy, brat-taming, spanking, shibari, size, exhibitionism, voyeurism, gaping, mild-humiliation, scent, piss, mirror sex, praise, tails, tail sex, oral, anal, belly bulge, light-degradation, edging, intimacy, overstimulation, body worship, begging, aural, dacryphilia, cross dressing, cucking (only when he is the stud/bull), BDSM.

Squicks: (Anything that's illegal irl), vomit, scat, prolapse, under-negotiated kinks/scenes, actual bestiality (he's down to fuck Halsin in bear form), farting, burping, cake farting (he doesn't want to talk about why cake farting has a separate, independent listing), grapefruiting.

[number-1-kuaidul-fanboy]

Episode 90 of Go Rush is the most painful Yugioh episode to me

This episode has put me in a state of grief and shock, similar to what I felt after my cat died, for days, to the point where I'm still recovering from the after effects as I write this. I'm gonna do my best to judge this episode fairly, and critique it for what it is, not what I may have personally wanted it to be. To be clear, I think this is a good episode. Maybe even a great one. I do have some genuine critiques (mainly with the dialogue so I admit it could partially be a language/culture barrier issue) but overall, it is a well put together episode and duelling wise especially, a fantastic arc finale to my favourite story arc of season 2. It just... came out Christmas Eve, a hard time of the year for me for personal reasons, and did something that was always going to destroy me personally. But, anyways, enough beating around the bush. I have a ton of thoughts on this episode that I really need to put in one place.

Spoilers below of course.

Like I said, the duelling action in this episode is amazing, one of my personal favourite duels in Bridge Era Yugioh. Honestly maybe someday when GR is fully released, I will declare it my favourite. I need more time with it to know for sure. Kuaidul is so at the top of his game with his perfected deck that Yudias had to steal Kuaidul's ultimate monster in order to fight back at all and even then, Kauidul was still able to defend himself and potentially make a comeback. He's a skilled duelist and a great villain and that's on full display this episode.

The only problem I have with this episode's first half is the opening theme playing over part of an episode once again. They did this at the end of Galaxy Cup and it felt ill-fitting there too but this episode felt even more forced as that song being played during a "triumphant victory" right before the turn this episode took was really distracting. The tonal whiplash honestly kind of disgusted me. The song is great, but you don't have to play it in the middle of the episode just because it's an arc finale, guys. If it doesn't fit, then it doesn't fit. Don't force it.

Other than that blunder though, the first half or so of this episode is high quality standard fun so had I not known better and seen the clips and screenshots before watching the entire thing subbed, I never would've expected the episode to go full on depressing. Yeah, Kuaidul was mentioned to be dying in the previous episode but Yugioh hardly ever permanently kills characters and every other Go Rush villain was allowed to live.

Surely, I don't need to lose sleep over this. Surely they won't kill him on Christmas Eve when he's only existed as a character for like four months and has so much more to give us. Surely Kuaidul will be okay-

.....oh

....Yeah, for me, I don't think there's a worse feeling than anxiously dreading something will happen but trying to insist it won't happen and you're just having anxiety only to have your anxiety proven right... This was the perfect storm of despair to completely destroy me and me personally since Kuaidul is a personal comfort character, saved the second season for me after it went to shit, and my favourite in Go Rush so understand that that is what my bias is when discussing this episode.

I've already made a whole post defending the scene where Kuaidul forcefully tries to fuse with Yudias. To sum it up, it was a life or death situation and Kuaidul was acting out of fear/self-preservation, Yudias was willing (though yes he did leave this unvoiced at first), and Kuaidul did let go of the fusion and accept his impending death because the fusion would, to some degree, hurt Yudias. I wish the reason and extent to how much it would hurt Yudias was more clearly explained. Maybe some line about how Kuaidul's decaying form (or the thing that gave his body form) will start to make Yudias decay as well would've helped because personally, I found the explanation the episde gave to be vague and confusing. Yugioh has confusing logic at times but I've never questioned the logic behind sacrifices like these. Antinomy and Ai's motivations and reasons for sacrificing themselves both made sense and I never questioned why they did what they did. Kuaidul meanwhile, I don't fully understand why he HAD to die. The fusion would've hurt Yudias, yes, but how drastically? Would it have eventually killed him or just hurt a lot? What would this "fusion" even have entailed? This episode vaguely implied Kuaidul was straight up trying to possess him but it never quite fully said that? For all we know, he would've ended up a harmless spirit vibing in Yudias's subconscious like Yubel or Astral were because fusions like this are just not explained in Go Rush's universe. Yeah, yeah, "show don't tell" but the visuals didn't give a concrete answer either, at least not to me. It felt weirdly vague and confusing.

Also, side note, I won't dwell on this too much because someone has already posted about it but this:

This is messed up in a way that I don't think Go Rush, which is aimed at a younger audience, is equipped to handle and should not be Yudias's reasoning. "If it will save you from death" was enough of a reason. That captures Yudias's astonishing compassion and selflessness perfectly and is far more subtle and emotionally resonant. I hate the implications of this line and it genuinely made me extremely uncomfortable when I saw it.

Anyways, the sacrifice. Despite all the under explaining, I obviously still felt the weight of Kuaidul's sacrifice and emotionally, I understand it even I find myself questioning the semantics more than I normally would with scenes like these. I do think if we knew the extent to how much Kuaidul was willing to hurt Yudias in his moment of impulsive fear, then him deciding not to go through with it would have added even more to his character. Still, I think the fact that he was willing to let go and accept his death makes him a better character. I think that was the only way that forced fusion scene could have been salvaged. Because, yes, if the episode had ended with Kuaidul forcing Yudias to fuse, sticking with it, and essentially getting away with it, this episode would be worse. I... would probably still like Kuaidul but I would definitely feel uncomfortable to some degree. However, I personally am able to fully forgive him because I understand that it was an act of impulse by a dying man that, after thinking about, he did decide on his own not to go through with. The scene played out perfectly for what they were going for. They went a direction I wasn't expecting but the direction made sense (despite being under-explained to me) and was emotionally effective.

Speaking of emotionally effective...

Okay, I won't lie. The first time I saw this scene (purely through screenshots), I was actually pissed. It immediately brought to mind Akiza being forced to forgive her abusive father and I felt like they were not just pulling that crap again but having it be the final note an immensely important comfort character of mine went out on.

....but I was already a crying mess when I saw this and now that I've regained somewhat of a clear mind and seen the full episode, my opinion has changed completely. The Creator is NOT on the same level of Akiza's father, not in the slightest. I still firmly view him and Kuaidul as a father/son relationship since the Creator... ya know, literally created him and Kuaidul craving his validation very much came across to me as a neglected child craving their parent's attention/approval. That's not explicitly spelled out by the show but keep in mind this is how I view it. From what we saw, Kuaidul had valid reasons to feel neglected, most notably episode 77 where the Creator left Kuaidul behind despite his cries. However, upon actually seeing the hug scene in motion, I realised that Kuaidul wasn't the one who initiated the hug. The Creator was:

And to me, that makes all the difference. He's offering a hug, a symbol of forgiveness and acceptance, which Kuaidul accepted instantly, with no pressure from anyone which was my main problem with Akiza's situation, because validation from the Creator was all he really wanted this whole time. That's actually quite cohesive and I'm glad Kuaidul's motivation wasn't forgotten or changed. Do I still think Kuaidul deserved more? Oh, absolutely. The Creator should've apologised verbally in some way. Maybe Kuaidul didn't need him to but I the viewer did dammit. At least if this is both their final appearances and isn't leading into something down the line (the Creator could just use him again, or it could be revealed to be a hallucination fuck-). Whatever, this hug was enough for Kuaidul and at the time of writing this, the scene is their final scene in the show and if this is truly where it ends for them, then I'm glad that despite dying, Kuaidul got exactly what he truly wanted all along.

I could nitpick it and the entire show's implications about the Creator into oblivion if I really wanted to but... I don't. My favourite character had a cohesive sympathetic narrative with a payoff, which is more than I've gotten from some other Yugioh series. For what it is, I like it and it resonated with me emotionally, which is the goal of fiction.

In fact, that's my take on the entire episode: it's not exactly what I would've expected or wanted but I like it overall for what it is. The reason I resent this episode so much is almost purely personal and not reflective of the episode's quality. I have issues with the episode, as I mentioned, but it's a good episode overall. The script just needed some tweaks.

It's a good thing Konami and Entame are taking a break after this episode. They deserve it, first and foremost, and I don't know if I'll be able to return to Go Rush even after their breaks end. I want to know what happens next but it'll be... hard after being hit with something this upsetting so suddenly during an already rough time of the year for me.

I want to return someday, but not if any part of me is still instinctively hopelessly crying out for Kuaidul's return only to be disappointed.

[dollarbin]

Dollar Bin #2:

Jerry Jeff Walker's Viva Terlingua!

There are certain truths we hold as self evident. Anyone who ever takes their valuable time to read the nonsense in this blog knows that Blood on the Tracks and Damn the Torpedoes belong in every middle aged white guy's record collection. Similarly, they know that Eric Clapton, post Cream, is not worth listening to and that you are better off never having seen Van Morrison live in my lifetime, and I'm older than you. It's easy to know the truth. Neil Young has no faults, unless you wind up marrying him. Beer is good for me.

This second installment of the Record Bin makes the case for a lesser known truth: Jerry Jeff Walker deserves intentional, honored space in your very own dollar bin. Indeed, he deserves to take up significant quality time in your life! We'll use his best known record, Viva Terlingua!, as our basis of proof.

But first, if you don't already have its perfectly shambolic opening notes running in your head, give a listen:

Walker tells us exactly what we need to know in that opening riff and his "Ahhhh..... Buckeroos": we are mid-story already; he's just back from a smoke break in the pig pen and he's picking up where he left off, sliding some seemingly insignificant musings at us and his anxious producer Mike, musings which actually contain the meaning of life, at least according to Jerry Jeff.

This whole record sounds like a legendary party we are forever sad to have missed. Come to the end of the record and you'll wish the party would keep going - and then it does keep going, with the band diving back into yet another chorus of London Homesick Blues. Are these people still drunk?

I don't know about you but other music which strives to conjure up a live drunken hoedown - I'm thinking of Rainy Day Woman and the frat boy early take of Madame George - always sound a little sinister. Getting stoned, as in rocks being thrown at you, doesn't sound fun no matter how much those Nashville Cats scream, nor does getting raided by transphobic cops. But I'm forever fired up about the party inside Viva Terlingua. Burritos! Tacos! Everclear!

Not even The Basement Tapes sound like this much fun to me. Sure, I'd love find myself in Big Pink, making shit up with Bob during I'm Your Teenage Prayer. But while we were at it, I'd have to keep an anxious eye on Richard Manuel, knowing the doom that lies in his/our future. No so with Viva Terlingua: transport me back to Luckenbach, Texas in August 1973 and I'd get drunker than I did on car bombs at my famous brother's (https://doomandgloomfromthetomb.tumblr.com/) wedding. I'd remember every glorious moment of that night with Jerry Jeff for the rest of my life.

But let's talk about Jerry Jeff's singing. Van Morrison is my favorite screamer and Sandy Denny is the best singer in the history of white people, but who else can turn their own voice-crack into joyful art? Catch Jerry at the end of Sangria Wine: Woah-OH!-oh-oh-oh, he LOVES sangria wine. Jerry shows us just how high you can get on the stuff, his voice staggering with joy. It's not beautiful; it's awesome.

The voice-crack, I declare, is a vital ingredient to a lot of the best manrock from the 70's. It's a big part of Kristofferson's whole wonderful shtick, and I'd argue that one of the big reasons why we all love hanging out in the Ditch with Neil is because he falls apart vocally while telling us he's a vampire or while describing the sun climbing his hood ornament. Sure, Richard Thompson has shown us since the 80's that he is well poised to voice a cartoon British lion in a musical remake of Robin Hood, but I prefer him when he's searching for notes he'll never find on his first record. Apparently his song Mary and Joseph from that outing is too bizarre and off tune to even merit existence on youtube, otherwise it would appear below this sentence. But trust me, it features some Jerry Jeff level voice-cracks.

While we are at it, the voice-crack seems to be missing from modern music: a problem! Jeff Tweedy reaches for one on occasion, I suppose, and Adele has taken over for Sarah McGlachlan, turning them into graceful beauty. But who's out there Bob Pollarding themselves from amateurism to epic in one wild ride of a syllable?

Don't be fooled, however: Viva Terlingua is far more than just a jubilant rager. The songwriting and arrangements are discreetly brilliant: everyone sounds drunk, and maybe they really are, but they worked their asses off to get things straight beforehand.

Let's start with the second track, Desperadoes Waiting For A Train. Walker had already introduced the world to the relatively unknown Guy Clark with his cover of LA Freeway a few years before but Clark's Desperadoes is on a whole other level. It's the kind of song that leaves you wondering what else a songwriter could possibly have left to say afterwards about their own biography. Write a song like Desperadoes and there can't be much more in the tank. Name another song that is convincingly about the love between a boy and his grandma's drunk boyfriend. Can't be done. Find me another song that's half as sad and sweetly funny at the same time, or that's so straight-forward and concise in its story telling, yet cryptically elusive in its chorus. How are this kid called Sidekick and the weeping old man who is teaching him how to drive like Desperadoes Waiting For a Train? I don't know, but they are, and it's awesome.

The whole thing is a master class in song lyrics as far as I'm concerned, standing alongside Paul Simon's Hearts and Bones and Kristofferson's Sunday Morning Coming Down as songs that tell you exactly what you need to know about a relationship or person through surprising, crystalline imagery. They are perfect short stories.

And Walker owns the track, mournfully and righteously working through each stage of the boy's unique relationship with that driller of oil wells, that old school man of the world. Walker can flat out sing, and the slower the beat, the deeper and more aching he becomes.

Somehow, even though he was capable of writing a transcendent song like Mr Bojangles, Walker is often at his best when singing other people's songs. He doesn't cover them, he recreates them, a la our beloved late Sinead O'Connor. Check out Walker's version of One Too Many Mornings from Viva Terlingua's sequel of sorts, A Man Must Carry On. Jerry Jeff writes his own damn verse!

Finally, how about his amazing band. Take one of the album's lesser tracks, Get it Out. Leading into the bridge an organ surges, then backs off; no player on this record claims their own space for more than a perfect moment. Instead, they pass around leadership with as much care as a shared bottle of the good stuff among thoughtful friends. Later in the bridge all the players rest together and let Jerry ad his choir of drunken angels dive into some CSNish do do do dos. Together they make the blog's favorite villain, Stephen Stills, and his dopey band mates sound like they'll never even get the chance to love the one their with because everyone out there would rather get it on with Jerry and his crew.

Anyway, go and get your own copy of this record. I've bought not one, but three copies of Viva Terlingua in my life: the first for $12, which skips, the second for $5, which skips, and a final one, with full exasperation, for $1, which.... doesn't skip! Why, oh why, do I ever look outside the dollar bin?