#my topic changed halfway through this post

[esperderek]

I have to have a chuckle at the Screenrant article posted recently about the Galactic Starcruiser, which totally wasn't about Jenny Nicholson's video honest.

In part, because early in Nicholson's video, she talks about how unnatural it is to have your influencers speak in adcopy and copyright rather than the more colloquial nicknames, and how it makes the people speaking about the product seem very insincere and, well, paid off. Because normal humans don't speak that way, but advertising does.

What's the first two lines in this article?

"As a life-long fan of Star Wars, there was nothing quite as exciting as finding out that I would be working on the immersive Star Wars: Galactic Starcruiser experience. Located at the Walt Disney World Resort, the Galactic Starcruiser opened on March 1, 2022, and welcomed passengers to board a two-day, two-night cruise through the stars, during which they could live out their own Star Wars adventure."

No one talks like this naturally. No one writes like this naturally.

This is supposed to be your passioned defense of the place you worked at, the people you worked with, and the memories you made along the way. C'mon! Why don't you open with a story, perhaps an anecdote about the best moment you had working there, or the devastation of the day you lost your dream job. We need to feel your humanity! But there's nothing of that here, to the point where you can just hear the TM behind Galactic Starcruiser.

The first half of this article continues in this vein, reading like a press release Disney marketing put out, just with past tense rather than present or future tense:

"Essentially, the Starcruiser experience was a 48-hour movie that passengers were actually a part of. It was all facilitated through the "datapad," which was accessed through the Play Disney Parks app."

"To facilitate the overarching immersive experience and storytelling, the Starcruiser built a jam-packed itinerary for each and every guest that would consist of a variety of important activities: the captain's toast at muster, a bridge training exercise, lightsaber training, and more. These types of events were essential to understanding what was happening, as they would give passengers the chance to interact with characters and build their story. This is why the Starcruiser could never be just a hotel; every part of it was designed for enthusiastic interaction."

Like, c'mon. I used to work in television. I've seen and used adcopy in my former job, and this is some serious adcopy. It honestly wouldn't shock me if the author dredged up some old adcopy they had lying around about the topic and just transferred it over, changing the tense. You're not here to sell us this product, because there is no product to sell. It's gone, it's been gone for a year, you don't have to sell us on IT. Speak about your experiences.

The next part is yet another topic that Jenny Nicholson pointed out, the bad faith excuses that influencers and advertisers made for the extreme price point:

"What many people don't know, however, is that the price included much more than just a room. The passengers' food, park tickets, recreation activities on board, non-alcoholic drinks, and more were all included - with merchandise being one of the few additional costs on board."

Which is absolute bad faith reasoning, especially when there are plenty of other vacation options that are ALSO all-inclusive, but are MUCH cheaper and offer MORE amenities than the Galactic Starcruiser did! Including Disney Cruises, owned by the same company! Seriously, you can go on a halfway decent sounding cruise or all-inclusive resort somewhere warm for, like, a week or two and spend far less than GSC cost.

Then the last part is essentially: "All the workers liked working there and the bad reviews afterwards make the workers who worked on it feel sad. :("

Which, like, companies have been hiding behind that reasoning for ages. Curiously, the author never offers....any reasons or stories. WHY did working on it impact you so much? What set it apart, what were the people like, what did you like about working there, why are you so passionate about it even a year later? There's nothing, just a generic sort of "We worked hard." and "We're sad it's gone." Why? How? What happened? The video you're obviously writing this in response to is filled with personal anecdotes and stories, it's the backbone of the video! Again, you need to give us something to show your humanity!

Especially when you consider that Nicholson repeatedly points out that the only highlight about her experience, the only thing that kept the damn thing going was the workers.

She had nothing but praise for them, and nothing but contempt for the higher ups who wasted and abused that enthusiasm, to the point where one of her last points was "Hey, Disney is basically exploiting labor."

Much like Jenny, I'm also not condemning anyone who had a good time working there. Good! If you were having a good time at work, that's great. If you have good memories about the people, awesome. But I'll note two things:

a) That doesn't meant you weren't being exploited, and

b) That doesn't mean you have to be a useful idiot for the corporation you worked for afterwards.

I'm not conspiracy brained enough to go "Oh, Disney TOTALLY forced this article into being.", because a cursory examination of the author's prior works and such suggests a lifelong passion for Star Wars, she did work at the hotel, and she's a Star Wars Editor (whatever THAT means in this day and age) for Screen Rant. Apparently one of the heads of Screen Rant says that Disney had no hand in it either.

Though, I can see why people would think that way. It READS like a press release, not something a normal human being would write about an experience they feel passionate about.

[lov3lycosmos]

Can I request some hongjoong fluff >~< you can decide on the topic idm I’m js so downbad for this man ,,

You Look Like My Type In That Sweater - K.H ♡

Genre: fluff

Pairings: Bf!Hongjoong x Gn!Reader

Warnings: just hongjoong being a loser in a beautiful man's body :3

Cosmos note: here go anon! I hope it's what you wanted!

my library!

You woke up to a quiet sort of brightness, the kind that made everything feel slower and softer. The room was warm under the covers, and the scent of your laundry mixed with something unmistakably Hongjoong: skin and cologne, a little citrus, a little sleep.

His arm was across your middle, flopped heavy like he’d passed out mid-snuggle, which—let’s be honest—he probably had. His face was buried somewhere between your shoulder and your neck, and you could feel the faint scratch of stubble against your skin. His leg was hooked over yours like a very needy, very clingy blanket.

You shifted slightly, testing the waters of escape.

He groaned. “Don’t move. I’m in a delicate emotional state.”

You huffed out a laugh, still not fully awake. “Your ‘emotional state’ is that you’re lazy.”

“I’m clinging for survival,” he mumbled into your shoulder. “If you leave, I’ll wither.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“Correct.”

You tried again, this time actually sitting up. He flopped his whole body across your back like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

“Joong—”

“No.”

“Let me pee.”

He paused.

“Okay,” he said finally. “But come back or I’ll die for real.”

You snorted and pried his octopus limbs off you, dragging yourself to the bathroom while he flopped back on the mattress like a man betrayed.

When you came out, he was sitting up, hair a disaster, face puffy, one sock halfway on, and already rummaging through your drawer like it was his.

“I’m picking our outfits,” he said without looking up. “You don’t get a say.”

You blinked. “I didn’t even ask for a say yet?”

“Exactly. Preemptive fashion domination.”

He tossed a sweater at you. It hit you in the face.

“You’re violent,” you muttered, pulling it on anyway. It was soft. Probably his. Definitely smelled like him.

He held up a pair of cargos. “These too. We’re doing layers. I want us to look like we have a joint Pinterest board.”

“Oh my god.”

“Shut up, this is important to me.”

You raised a brow. “You planned this in advance, didn’t you?”

He shrugged. “I may or may not have mentally coordinated colors at 2am. The creative mind never rests.”

“You literally drooled on my arm at 2am.”

“And still had vision. Powerful.”

You laughed, shaking your head, and pulled the pants on while he started changing too—right there, no hesitation, shirt half-off while babbling something about beige being an elite neutral.

You watched, leaning against the wall, as he fixed his hair in the mirror with one hand and shoved on a jacket with the other.

“Why are you so pretty and so dumb at the same time?” you muttered.

“Balance,” he replied, fluffing his bangs. “Like yin and yang. Brains? Gone. Jawline? Sharp.”

He spun around. “Okay. Photo time.”

“What?”

“You. In that sweater. Window light. You look like the main character of a song I haven’t written yet.”

You rolled your eyes so hard they almost got stuck, but he was already grabbing his film camera.

“Don’t be weird about it,” he said, already dragging you to stand by the curtain. “Just… do your face.”

“My face?”

“Yeah, you know. Your normal one. The cute one.”

You made a face.

“Okay not that one. You look like you’re about to bite someone.”

“I am about to.”

“Hot.”

You laughed and shoved him lightly, but stood where he wanted anyway. The light really was nice—warm and soft, haloing around your face. You glanced at him just as he took the photo.

He peeked at the camera. “Yup. That’s going on Instagram.”

“You never post.”

“This is worthy.”

He came over and wrapped his arms around your waist, forehead pressed to yours, swaying a little like there was music only he could hear.

“God, you’re so cute it actually hurts me.”

“You say that like it’s my fault.”

“It is. You woke up and chose violence.”

You grinned. “Alright, your turn. Stand over there. I’m getting revenge.”

He handed you the camera with a dramatic sigh. “Capture my essence.”

“You’re about to get captured looking like you lost a fight with a pillow.”

“And still hot.”

He posed half-seriously, one hand in his jacket pocket, giving you that lazy model-off-duty stare that made your knees feel wobbly.

“Wow,” you said, adjusting the focus. “How does it feel to be God’s favorite?”

He smirked. “Honestly, exhausting.”

You snapped the picture just as his smile turned into a grin. Click.

“I’m framing that one.”

“Put it in a museum.”

“Put it in my wallet.”

He walked over and tried to steal the camera back, but you held it above your head.

“Give it.”

“No.”

“Give—babe—I swear if you make me climb you like a tree—”

You cackled and backed up until he grabbed your waist and spun you, laughing against your neck.

“You’re so annoying,” you gasped.

“You love it.”

“Unfortunately.”

He kissed your jaw, soft and lingering, then rested his chin on your shoulder.

“Can we stay like this forever?” he mumbled.

You reached up and played with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Like what?”

“Waking up late. Being dumb. Looking hot.”

“God, your priorities.”

“I’m consistent.”

You turned and kissed him, just once, slow and warm.

“Now I’m really keeping the photo,” you whispered.

“Put a heart on it.”

You did.

He let go of you long enough to go poke at his face in the mirror, muttering about under-eye circles and deciding on lip balm instead of tint.

You just watched from the bed, pulling your socks on and feeling the ridiculous weight of happiness settle in your chest like sunlight.

He came back, smug.

“Okay, I’m ready to receive compliments.”

You gave him a once-over. “Hmm.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I’m dating a hater.”

You stood, grabbing your keys. “You’re dating someone with high standards.”

“And yet you still picked me.”

“Bad decisions are part of life.”

He laughed and grabbed your hand, lacing your fingers together like it was muscle memory.

As you stepped into your shoes, he pulled you close again—less dramatic this time, more quiet, more him.

“I really do love you, you know,” he said, like he was saying something stupid and obvious.

You looked at him. Messy hair, sleepy eyes, camera around his neck, your sweater hanging off your frame.

“I know,” you said, smiling.

And that was enough.

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[coconutdays]

study week!

s. your boyfriend deserves some special treatment after working so hard and you think you know the best way to treat him, you think

w.c. 4.9k

w. fem! reader, biker!geto! x reader , fluff!, smut!

a/n: this was halfway written in my drafts and I know I haven't posted him in a while, so I thought id treat my girlies for what they fell for me for in the first place and finish it

it's midterms week and as difficult as it's been for your dear boyfriend suguru, you can't stop yourself from being a bit of an obstacle for him yourself.

he's waiting for you outside of your french studies lecture in the morning when you can see his slightly tired eyes rake across the cleavage bared by your low-cut blouse. then to the short mini-skirt and pantyhose lining your legs. and your lips, you're wearing his favorite lipgloss, the one that always has him pushing you onto your knees and sucking him dry.

"hey baby." he smiles a little, taking the almost too large water bottle from your hands and reaching down to hold one of your hands while you walked, "you look beautiful."

"hi," you snuggle into his arm, hoping he didn't see the slight quirk of your lips at his obvious stare just a few seconds ago, "did you study as much as you wanted this morning?"

suguru nods, thumb caressing your hand as he sighs, "yes, although I do wish I could've finished earlier and had more time to get ahead on that project."

that project. the one that had been taking up most of the time for the past two weeks, more so this one right before his exam and presentation came up for his Japanese architecture class.

it had been only last semester the two of you started dating after the close to masterful planning of satoru gojo that led to your hookup with the charming brunette on halloween night. you had no other classes together when the spring semester came around and you both obviously missed it at times like these, when the added ninety minutes of just getting to even be together in lecture and spare time of studying the class material together could've more easily satiated the want of each other's presence

this semester he had Japanese architecture and although the class was fairly easy, he had to work on a hefty group presentation that took up over thirty percent of his grade, and he being the ever meticulous student, was doing everything in his power to make sure he would get his A+, which meant being taken prisoner by his assigned group in the library to piece together the presentation most days. and when he wasn't, he was studying for his other classes and making the most of any interaction he could with you, be it by texting, FaceTime, or getting a quick dessert at the cafe near the school campus with you.

but not sex.

"'m sorry. that sucks," you pout for him, peering up at him through your eyelashes purposefully, "wish I could make it a solo project, so you wouldn't have to rely on other people for your grade."

suguru spares you a small glance before tiredly looking you and shining his warm smile down at you, "well it's already too late for the professor to change his mind, so I'll bear it through."

suguru tears his gaze away from you so he can guide the both of you across the street to the previously mentioned cafe. when you make it across the street and continue walking to the ever growing close cafe, your boyfriend strikes another topic.

"how was class though? did you get the material?"

you nod your head eagerly and upon realizing he can't see you do it because of his guiding, you voice, "yea! it was relatively easy, shouldn't take me more than an hour or two to brush up on what I need for the test."

"good." he hums, opening the door for you to the cafe, never letting go of your hand, "and your other classes?"

and there came the reason as to why you felt so free to mess around with him in the first place. you barely even had midterms, luckily enough this time around. you only had your French midterm and the studying barely even counted as something to be stressed about when it was just like overlooking the normal homework being assigned in the class. and your other classes...well it was pure luck that your professors didn't care to give one and if they did, they instead spread them around to conveniently happen before and after midterms like any other normal test. god knows you're happy they didn't pile up into one week like they did for your boyfriend, his poor poor soul. a poor soul so restricted by his other responsibilities during this short time span that you just wanted to tease him for all he's got.

"I already started my study review for my international business relations class yesterday, so I'll be fine when the test comes around next month." you beam proudly, grateful that the university gods had been kind to you and to yourself for staying on track to your planner.

"good girl" suguru's eyes crease when he gets in line to order with you and brings your hand to his mouth to kiss it. the action is mindless, just like his response, it was natural for him to praise you. and considering his avoidance of your sex life ever since those cruel cruel cruel classmates of his started dragging him into the study rooms of the library as of last week, it was purely innocent, with no intention of riling you up.

but it did.

and you can't help but think of the last time you and suguru had sex, the exact morning of the day he had received the news from his professor that he would have to group up with other people for a good grade.

he had eaten you out for close to an hour because he felt like it. it was slow and sensual the entire time, he never listened to your pleas to go faster, telling you to take it like he knows his good girl would, and although it wasn't the cruel speed you begged for most of the time, it still brought you over the edge in a many pleasing and toe curling way.

the thought had you blushing at the fact the person you held those memories with was right next you, being domestic, and leading you to an empty booth while he carried your desserts in a bag.

craving the touch of your boyfriend, you refuse to sit across from him, and squeeze yourself next to him in the booth, the action makes him caress your thigh warmly before he sets out napkins and puts each of your preferred sweets on their respective places.

you're halfway through your dessert when you push yourself onto suguru and pout, "I miss you sugu."

he places a firm yet soft hand on top of your head to caress it, "I miss you too. I'll be all yours tomorrow."

"what?" he wasn't supposed to be free until three days time

"my group decided they wanted to turn in the project today to get it over with, which I'm up for by all means. and my calculus professor felt merciful last night. he gave passes for the midterms to the students with no late assignments and As."

you try your best to hide the devious excitement in your eyes and instead smile endearingly, "that's so good! we can go eat at that viet restaurant I dmed you."

suguru takes your non pastry sticky hand and brings it onto his lap as he gazes into your eyes, "I'd rather cook for you tomorrow."

your curiosity overtakes your predatory instinct and you bat your lashes at him when you ask, "what are you thinking of making?"

"risotto,"he hums, before he leans forward a bit and kisses the corner of your mouth. when he pulls back he smirks a little at the flustered look on your face.

"you had some strawberry filling." he points out before placing another kiss at the top of your head, rubbing a tentative hand at the back of your head in doing so, "let's finish the pastries so I can buy you a matcha latte before my class."

and just like that, he had made your resolve weaken, yet again, like always, your intent on seducing him forgotten for the meantime due to his proficiency at making your mind a puddle.

you find yourself in the library, hours later in the afternoon, studying with your friend at the same time suguru is meeting with his group.

and...soooooo conveniently sitting at a desk right in front of the glass door of one of the library's large group session cubicles, that just so happens to be hosting your boyfriend and his classmates.

your luck worked out perfectly and you thanked whatever mightier being there was when you saw suguru seated at the far end of the table with no one in front of him, allowing him the perfect view of you from across those few feet and glass door.

you see his eyes light up as he tries to listen to whatever one of his groupmates is saying while sharing a loving look with you.

perfect.

suguru

are you going to study pretty?

by the time you see the message from him, he has his arms folded over each other as he speaks to the other people in the room. god you wish you could hear him speaking right now. he was 100% giving some sort of smart nerd dialect input and you did everything in your power not to remember the time he tutored you in a class he had already taken last semester, using that same voice.

that time,

you had asked for a prize if you got all his questions correct

and he had been more than happy to give when you did

the specifics of which you didn't let yourself fret on more when you typed away to answer him

y/n

mhm I need to practice a speech for french.

and you left your phone on the desk with the screen facing down as you continued to your studies, conniving your next plan of action as you typed away at your computer.

about thirty minutes had passed when suguru was finally allowed a moment of peace, a moment of tranquility from having to explain a million times why comic sans was not the most ideal font to use.

and he was going to reach for his phone, to see what you had answered–he felt the buzz in his pocket–but couldn't look due to his previous debate with his classmates, when he spotted a quite inviting sight.

where you had been sitting basically face to face with suguru, with your friend next you, now you had your back to him as you practiced your speech in front of your friend.

it wasn't really useful, she didn't understand, it was more so to have someone to make eye contact with.

well more so,

an excuse to stand up and bend over a little every once a while so your skirt rode up just the right amount.

you bent over when you hand your phone to your friend to time you, you bent over to get a quick look at your computer, your speech written on it. you bent over to type something quick, a meaningless note, but a meaningful excuse for you.

you're not flashing him outright, of course, there was still a possibility of any one of his group mates accidentally getting a glance of whatever you rescinded to your boyfriend in these minutes; but you are teasing him. he loves these skirts on you. he's especially a bigger fan of the pantyhose, considering this was the only surviving pair you could find. so you know that he's letting his memory and imagination undress the sight before him as well as entice him.

you're glad you didn't unlock your phone when you gave it to your friend to time you, choosing to slide up for the clock on the lock screen, when after an hour of perfecting the speech you didn't need until two weeks time, she says, "geto texted you by the way, a couple minutes ago."

you take your phone from her as you go to sit down, facing suguru again for the first time in an hour, and you don't know if he's resorted to playing your mind games too, but the sight is knee buckling.

he's got his hair in that half up, half down combo that never fails to make you ravenous. and he's biting his cheek as he listens yet again to whoever and looks down at his computer screen every once in a while.

why did he always look so unaffected by everything, god.

you force yourself to look at the messages he sent you earlier

suguru

try your speech on me when you get the chance, okay?

how long are you going to be here? do you want me to take you home after we finish the project?

y/n

I'll make it my first priority! and I'm about to leave :/ I still have to do a quiz at home with my camera on in about two hours, wanna get it done before the hour mark.

you get up seconds after sending the text to suguru to put your belongings away. the task was easy considering you didn’t take much out of your bag. and when you started to close it, you felt a firm and soft hand tugging you towards them. 

suguru was in front of you now, sitting at the edge of your desk, tugging you close to him so you stood between his legs, which were unavoidably manspreading for you.

“five at my place tomorrow?” he’s softly quirking an eyebrow at you in question, holding both of your hands close to him

“I’ll be there,” you nod

he smiles at you in response, then juts his chin a little in the direction of your friend behind you–mindlessly scrolling through her phone as she waits for your conversation with your boyfriend to end–and asks, “are you getting a ride? I don’t like the idea of you walking by yourself, especially when it’s so close to sundown.”

you have to resist the way his protectiveness of you makes your skin crawl and want to jump onto him and force yourself to nod, “yea. she’s dropping me off after this. i need to give her one of the books we read for lit last semester anyways, she needs it for a class.”

“alright then.” suguru pulls both of your hands to his lips and gives a kiss to each one before getting up. he stands tall before you like he always does. “text me when you get home.”

“I will,” you say as he raises his hands to hold both sides of your face to pull you into a kiss. he keeps it calm and fluttering, so the most you can manage to retrieve out of him is a slight sharp inhale when your tongue softly grazes his lower lip. 

he still has his hands on your face when he places a small kiss at the top of your forehead and mutters, “i love you.”

“I love you too.” you say back, basking in his touch, knowing it’ll be close to a full day before you can see him like this again.

y/n 

Im homeeeeeeee!

finished the quiz too, wasn’t as hard as i thought it would be

suguru

nice job baby

have you eaten yet?

y/n 

im making a fruit salad :p have a sweet tooth right now

are you done with the project???

suguru

thankfully, yes. It was getting very difficult to see everyone use comic sans by default today. all i have to do is study for the test now, i can do that on my own without worrying about them. 

ill make a peach cobbler for you tomorrow, for your sweet tooth

y/n

aw for lil ol me??

suguru

yes for lil ol you miss coy

ill text you in a bit, im going home

your conversation continued when suguru got home, minimally if any, knowing youd talk on the phone before one of you headed to bed later that night. he did have to study after and so did you. which was why you saved your seductive attempts for until then.

“I liked your outfit today baby. It was cute,” you could hear your boyfriend repeatedly tossing a small stress ball up into his ceiling faintly. he was in bed already just as you were.

the comment made your ears perk up, “you did?”

“yeah, i didn’t know there was still a pair of pantyhose left.” 

“I didn’t either,” you sheepishly admitted, “i found it in the back of my drawer on saturday and thought id wear it.”

“wear them tomorrow, “ suguru added casually

“okay, ill–”

“don’t wear panties either.” 

your eyes widened a little, “but your bike–”

“what about my bike?”

he was picking you up tomorrow on his bike, like he always did. and you had to sit on his bike, on that leather seat with the incoming wind, your skirt, the pantyhose, no underwear…

“I thought we were having dinner.”

“we are, im making the risotto and peach cobbler for us,” he still sounds like he’s discussing any casual dinner arrangement, “don’t wear panties under the pantyhose.”

“why are you making those demands anyway,” you try to poke at him, as if you didn’t want to do that for him, to see if you could rile him up like you still wanted to these last two weeks, “you haven’t been horny for two weeks.”

“did i tell you i wasn’t?”

the authoritative question had you rubbing your thighs against each other, “no…but you weren’t acting that way either.”

“like you?” 

even on the phone it was hard to escape him, and he made it oh so delicious, even if it did always intimidate you.

“Is it so wrong to want you,” the pout in your voice clear

“no,” suguru comforts, “not at all.”

then, just as he knows he has you on an intense precipice in the conversation, he begins to end the call.

“sleep well pretty,” you can hear the love for you he has through it, as if he wasn’t just backing you into a corner seconds ago, “we’ve had a long day, and i need to get up a bit earlier than usual to get some groceries before i head to the gym.”

“sleep well too,” you huff and you can hear suguru’s laugh

“I love you beautiful."

“I love you too.”

suguru acts like a saint when he picks you up, like he's completely unaware to the fact that you're wearing pantyhose with no panties under your skirt, even though he asked for it.

"hey beautiful," he smiles when he leans down to peck your lips, "you ready to go?"

"yeah," you breathe, genuinely excited to spend time with your boyfriend for the first time in two weeks, uninterrupted

you arrived to your boyfriend's apartment with the most drenched pantyhose known to man. and you were too scared to see if any of your slick left a trail on his motorcycle. and although there was a certain buildup...down there...this had to be considered some sort of psychological torture.

because suguru had not made a sexual move on you the entire dinner, even through dessert.

nothing.

so here you were, stuck making casual conversation with your boyfriend, pussy basically exposed, and paranoid about his next move.

"satoru should not be eating that many macaroons a day. I know he loves them, but that's got to be some sort of crime." you discuss while taking a sip of your wine, "there has to be some economic surplus and deficit issue going on there."

"babe, you've had macaroon mukkbangs with him in front of me."

you pucker your lips in response to your boyfriend's unwavering ability to bring the facts right to your face.

"okay, but he does it way more often than me. consider that. I have to train for a whole month to do that. satoru does it back to back."

"there is that," suguru agrees, eyes flickering to the plate that had just been served with a slice of peach cobbler minutes ago, "and I take it you liked the peach cobbler."

"yes!" you nod eagerly, planting an excited fist on the dining table, "I love that my boyfriend is such a good chef."

"and I love that my girlfriend eats well," suguru responds warmly as he gets up and picks up both of your plates, placing them in the dishwasher before saying, "I'm glad you liked it though. I love watching you enjoy what I make."

suguru then takes your hand, while you're seated, and places a fleeting kiss on the back of it.

"let's go to the bedroom."

god, he just says that and you're ruining the pantyhose even more now.

"okay," you nod, getting up and letting him lead the way to his room.

he doesn't say much during the quick few steps until he opens the door and shuts it behind him.

"you're not wearing panties, right, sweet girl?"

you turn around to look at him, shaking your head earnestly, "no sir."

he walks up to you and takes your head in his palm affectionally, brushing a careful thumb across your cheek while he looks at you lovingly, "good."

"get on your knees then baby."

immediately you're sinking onto the ground and suguru is unbuckling his belt for you, already pulling out his rock hard cock.

on instinct, you open your mouth and suguru takes the invitation without hesitation, popping the tip of his dick against the inside of your cheek again and again.

"those pantyhose must be ruined beyond repair right now, aren't they?"

"mhm" you nod as best you can considering what he's using your mouth for.

"god, I can't wait to rip a hole in them." he hisses while he starts to slide his shaft up and down in your mouth.

its your queue to start sucking him off like you know how to. you hollow your cheeks and let all the spit build up in your mouth, even if it does start to run down your mouth and onto your chest and the floor. every time he nearly pulls out, you swirl your tongue around the underside of his swollen head, and you love the way his hips jut up just a bit at the action.

suguru's let you take the reigns now, instead placing a loving hand on the side of your head and making sure your hair doesn't get in your face.

"missed this pretty face getting messy for my cock." he breathes, grip growing by just a smidge on your hair, "missed it so much. couldn't even fuck your face to get my stress out baby."

he sees the excitement simmer in your eyes and suguru leans over a bit, "what do you say sweet girl, want me to fuck your little throat?"

you nod feverishly, suckling on his tip to show enthusiasm.

suguru gives you a small smile in return while he pinches your cheek affectionately.

"good girl."

he starts to move your head up and down his length at a leisurely place, something not too drastic, where you can feel and taste him coherently

until he suddenly speeds up the pace unforgivingly

"there, there, "he groans almost, staring at your face, "fuck, you're such a filthy girl. what'd I do to get such a pretty slut like you?"

the vulgar praise makes you moan, and the vibrations from your throat make him react the same way

"if I weren't saving my cum for my pussy right now baby, I'd fill your mouth again and again until you're practically spilling." he utters, still jack hammering into your mouth and you're doing everything you can to not let yourself gag,

"you like helping me destress beautiful?" he says desperately, cheeks growing a tinge red as he locks eyes with you

suguru's hips give a warning stutter when you nod, and he suddenly pulls out, and brings you up by an arm, turning you around so he can yank your skirt down.

"fuck." is all that leaves his lips darkly before he helps you take your shirt off and pushes you towards the bed.

"all fours baby, near the edge, wanna get a good fucking view of that pussy."

"o-okay," you say, already ruined by his previous indulgence and in anticipation of what was to come.

you get on all fours immediately and without a moment's waste, suguru's already running a greedy hand up your soaked folds, practically stuck to the pantyhose

"fuck, you're going to kill me. thought I was gonna go insane yesterday."

slap!

suguru lands a painful strike on your pussy

"it's not nice to tease your boyfriend when he's working so hard for you sweetheart. almost lost my mind trying not to think about all the things I wanted to do to you on that library table."

then there's a loud tear, and suguru runs his tongue flat against your exposed folds without hesitation

he starts to literally makeout with your pussy, treating it the way he wants. as if your lips down there could respond to his own. it's all for his own pleasure, none of yours, and you don't mind, turned on way more by the fact that he's using your body in such a depraved way.

and so, because you figure tonight is all about him taking out his stress on you, suguru suddenly stops, and you can feel him sit down on the bed, dragging you to stand in front of him.

"sit on my dick baby," he says, turning you around to face your back towards him, hands gripping your waist.

"wait!" you start to whine for the first time tonight, "I can't do this one, it's too hard for me."

just as suguru was needy, you were needy too.

you wanted the easy relief of him pounding you from behind, with you on all fours. when you rode him him like this, bouncing up and down, it was such a trek. he was so big, even sitting on it was a great feat. and he poked your cervix so painfully every time you went back down like this.

"yeah you can," suguru praises, reaching a hand down to swipe his tip against your folds messily, using the other on your waist to bring you down a little, "you always end up loving how I fill you up when we do it like this sweet girl."

upset, but still eager to have him inside of you, you start to sink down onto him with a pout, unable to stop your mouth from dropping open at the delicious stretch he always gives you

"so fucking big." you whine when he's bottomed out and you feel like you can't breathe from how full he makes you feel

and maybe he was right, because when you pick your ass back up, the feeling of his dick passing through and massaging your pussy from the inside has you keening for more and you could care less about your cervix.

so now you're bouncing against him sporadically, having missed the feeling of him inside you for so long

"missed your dick so much sugu!" you whine, stabilizing your arms on his thighs, ignoring the burning in your legs

"oh my fucking god," he groans, landing a stinging spank on your ass, "I missed this wet little pussy so much too princess. fuck. keep going, dirty fucking girl. gonna buy a butt plug for you so you can wear it with this same little get up. look so fucking cute with a little bunny tail sticking out with this-fuck."

"mhm mhm."

"gonna be my bunny? since you're always looking for my dick? god, if I could keep you in bed all day just for me to fuck you I'd keep that pussy full to the brim."

"sug-sugu!"

"I know baby, I know," he groans, both hands now gripping your ass and pushing you back down again and again, "cum for me, I'll cum with you."

you feel your leg start to kick a little as a reaction to what's about to happen and suguru notices the small paralyzation overtaking your body as a result to the nearing bliss. so he sits up straight and hugs you tight, pummeling you from underneath

"ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod sugu sugu, im cumming im cumming!"

"cum for me baby," suguru says through each quick stroke, "oh my god I'm gonna fuck my load into this slutty fucking pussy. greedy fucking girl's milking it out of me."

and you feel suguru's cock spill inside of you in hard thrusts, giving you what you feel is one of the biggest loads ever, considering this is the first time the both of you have gone without sex with each other for more than two days.

suguru's still inside you when he pulls you onto the bed with him and reaches a hand down to massage your boob

"babe, you did cum a lot." you comment, feeling his load pool inside of you

"good," he breathes, "it'll look hot coming out of you with the pantyhose"

"...are you going to take a picture for your album"

"maybe"

[phant0mth1ef]

band bakugou x band reader au headcanons!

- obviously the drummer, and he had a consistent bad habit of breaking his sticks when he would get frustrated or kept messing up during practice.

- secretly loved when his fans would scream his name at concerts but had to put up the bad boy persona.

- his jeans were definitely four sizes too big and were always ripped at the bottom from him consistently stepping on them throughout the day.

- didn’t have any sort of social medias, honestly he was just really a loser who happened to play drums for a super popular band.

- when you came in as a bassist, he didn’t think he’d get along with you at all despite the fact that you were friendly with everyone.

- he would always talk trash about the way you played and how you always had to retune your bass halfway through practice because “the problem’s never you, it’s always the tuning.”

- over time he did realize that it was actually the tuning and pretended to still be annoyed whenever you took forever to figure out the right tune.

- when you first met he secretly ran a hate page about you on twitter then pretended like it wasn’t him when you got a “from your contacts” message on the account.

- you didn’t care because to be honest you did the same exact thing and pretended you didn’t know who bakugousucks42792 was and why they had so many candids of him.

- broke his drums by hitting them too hard after you directly stumbled into his eyesight halfway through a concert, purposefully blocking him from seeing all his fans.

- cut the strings off your bass after you did that because if his instrument was broken, so was yours.

- eventually the rivalry turned into an enemies to lovers trope and he realized that he looked forward to your daily arguments, you obviously didn’t know that and still continued to fuck with him.

- on his bass / kick drum you stuck a large wad of chewing gum onto the part where the thing hits the drum and he had to delay the show to get it all off.

- changed his hate account to a stan account and his followers suddenly disappeared but his posts still blew up.

- finally asked you out at the end of one of your shows.

“thanks for coming out! ya’ really had nothin’ better to do hah? losers.”

“anyways. i’d like to take this time to say something to this idiot i know.”

“will you be my girlfriend?” he looked towards you where your bass hung off your frame.

you just stood there with your mouth open.

“….sure?”

and later that night, the topic ….sure? was trending on twitter.

[hamzahsbiggestfan]

ARE YOU SCARED ?

pairing succubus!reader and best friend!hamzah

⤷ summary : in a small, rotting town where nothing ever changes, except the bodies piling up. you, a cursed succubus bound by a pact you don’t remember making, hunger for more than just flesh and blood. after a tragic fire at a local show unleashes something ancient inside you, your thirst becomes insatiable. you kill, you feed, and you try not to feel anything. but hamzah does. your best friend since childhood, smart, quiet, always there hamzah has watched you slip through the cracks of who you used to be. he knows you’re not the same. he sees the blood. smells it. but he can’t turn away.

⤷ warnings : this series contains of blood, killing, cannibalism, drugs, smut, and angst, if any of those topics make you uncomfortable, i’m not forcing you to read.

PART FOUR - he deserves to know

a/n : suuuper long part for today before i leave for vacation. i’m not staying for too long so i’ll be back to posting on the regular schedule in a couple days! hope you guys enjoyed tho!!

the next day felt longer than most. every sound was too loud. every hallway too narrow.

hamzah didn’t look at you in class. not once. not when you came in late. not when you laughed at something that wasn’t funny. not even when the teacher said the dead boy’s name by accident and the whole room turned to ice.

you didn’t blame him.

you still wanted to.

when the final bell rang, you didn’t go home. you slipped into the empty locker room, the one that always smelled like chlorine and mildew and something older. the pool hadn’t been open since the fire. they said the water got contaminated, some kind of chemical spill.

but you knew the truth. you felt it in your skin, in the way your reflection shimmered whenever you passed by anything deeper than three feet.

you didn’t hear the door open. but you knew he was there.

hamzah always walked like he was trying not to bother the earth beneath him.

“you gonna keep avoiding me?” his voice was softer now. no more edge. just tired.

you turned. The pale light above you flickered like it had a pulse.

he looked worse than yesterday. hollowed out eyes. same hoodie. he’d been crying, maybe. or not sleeping. probably both.

“i didn’t think you’d come,” you said.

“you didn’t ask me to.”

“you’re not gonna lie again, are you?”

you looked at him. just looked. it hurt more than it should have.

“no,” you said finally. “not this time.”

hamzah took a few steps closer, careful, like you might break. or bite.

he stopped when there was nothing between you but silence.

“what are you?” he asked. voice cracking halfway through. not with fear, grief.

you swallowed. your throat burned.

“i don’t know,” you whispered. “something… happened that night. during the fire. i was supposed to die, hamzah. i felt it. i felt everything inside me tear open. and then I woke up… like this.”

“like what?” he breathed.

you didn’t answer with words.

you raised your hand to his chest, hovered just above his heart. close, but not touching.

he didn’t move away.

you could feel the heat of him, the pulse, the fear.

“i’m hungry all the time,” you said, voice low, shaking. “it’s not just blood. it’s everything. wanting. needing. i feel it in my teeth, in my bones. it hurts not to feed, but every time i do, i lose more of who I used to be.”

his eyes glistened. “and you can’t stop?”

“i don’t want to stop,” you admitted. “not really. that’s the worst part.”

hamzah didn’t flinch. didn’t scream. just looked at you like he was trying to memorize every scar on your face. every shadow under your eyes.

“you’re still you,” he said.

“no. i’m not.”

and then, without thinking, without meaning to, you kissed him.

it wasn’t soft. it wasn’t sweet.

It was teeth and desperation and every part of you screaming don’t do this, even as your hands curled into his shirt like you’d never let go.

and for a second, he kissed you back.

but then he pulled away. breathless. eyes wide.

“is this you,” he asked, “or the thing inside you?”

you didn’t have an answer.

you just stepped back. back into the shadows. back into the thing you were becoming.

“i told you to stay away from me,” you said.

“and i told you i wouldn’t.”

his voice didn’t shake this time. and that was somehow worse.

you turned away before he could see the red blooming behind your gums. before he could smell the blood under your tongue.

because you were still full.

but not for long.

and hamzah

hamzah was getting too close.

taglist : @screamertannie @blair3claire @giuliannna @prttyinpink7 @xoxoange1l @hamzahswhispers @weirdogirl888 @isathefantastic @lil-elliesgf @pictureperfectblue @odessa444 @chickie-nuggets-h0 @h-yalexaaaa @viviansturns @xoxoomel @babyd0ll3 @grrrfrogs @xxalemn

[memoirofasparklemuff1n]

omg just read ur long sleeves fix it was sSOOOO GOOD! if u write part 2 i will be tuned in & reading ☝️☝️

i miss you, i'm sorry- r.c. x reader

part 2 of long sleeves!!!

OMGG IM SOO GLAD YOU LIKED IT <3

warnings: swearing angst (?) mention of drugs, rehab, and reader is so fucking codependent, like girl?? anyway, this is horrible y’all i cannot for the life of me write a happy ending so i tried my best 😞 can you tell i’m depressed LMAOOO? YALL SHES DEPRESSED TOO 😔 but seriously if i could make it happier hmu, i won’t get mad i promise. i’m new at this whole writing thing 🤠 not proofread cuz i wanted to post this already so tell me if there are big mistakes and my first language isn’t english so sorry if there are errors

disclaimer: the reader's depression is based on my own experiences, everybody is different and what i might go through isn't the same as what another person goes through. with that said, if you find any of these topics triggering, i understand! so, please always take care of yourself <3

ps: sorry this took so long, i've just been busy with school and my dad has been sick for a few days now so i haven't had time.

I'M ALSO HALFWAY DONE THROUGH THE FLASHBACKS FOR NO BODY, NO CRIME. i just haven't had the time fml. hopefully tomorrow 🤞. ok enough whining and into the story 🥁

want it, so i got it, did it, so it's done

making the bed started playing and the first line felt like a punch to the gut. i hated when life kicked you when you were already down.

i quickly changed to a cheery workout playlist that felt more mocking, in a sense, but decided it was better to not relate to the lyrics than listening to my despair sing back to me.

after that day in tannyhill, i'd decided to start running at night. in a silly way i thought that maybe running would burn away my pain in a healthy way. though how healthy running on barely any sleep, with nothing but depressive thoughts in my brain, was beyond me.

still, at least this way i felt like i was doing something. that i was taking action instead of moping. that doesn't make any sense. ugh, shut the fuck up. i really didn't know whose side i was on half the time.

the night sky was clear, making the stars wink at me as if they knew something i didn't. the sea breeze caressed my face, combing its fingers through my hair and drying away my tears.

running equated crying but by the time i got home i would be so exhausted that i couldn't even think. which was, of course, the ultimate goal. not think of him.

six months had passed and it didn't hurt any less. on the contrary, all i could think was how i'd abandoned him. probably when he needed me the most. two weeks after our breakup, sarah called me to tell me that rafe was terribly sick and they were taking him to the hospital. i'd debated whether i should tell her what had happened but she then said that she was aware of the situation and that i shouldn't go see him. she was only letting me know and, in a way, it felt like she was blaming me.

that was the last time i had contact with the camerons, town gossip and my mother becoming the only ties left between us. he'd gone to rehab and was apparently taking better care of himself, his family supporting him every step of the way.

fucking hypocrites. ward never cared when i told him about his son's addiction, instead saying that i should keep quiet, that everything would be okay. rose only cared about new shopping places to spend the family's money. sarah had started spending time with her new boyfriend and barely came home and wheezie was far too young.

so that left me. it had always been me, but when word got out of how bad rafe he was, they then played the card of ignorance and became the holy family.

i took a deep breath and slowed down to a jog, unaware of where the fuck i was. i looked at my surroundings for the first time and of course, i was in front of tannyhill. the gates were close but i could hear muffled voices on the other side. stepping closer to listen like the eavesdropper i was.

i looked through the bars of the gate, only to see him or well his back. he was with ward, who was lowering another suitcase to the ground. i frowned but i then heard his voice saying my name.

Ward turned his head sharply in his direction, "you are not seeing her again, alright? she's the one that got you into this mess in the first place." oh so the asshole blamed me.

he turned to face his dad and i gasped. his hair was buzzed and he looked older, healthier. he looked good but i couldn't help but feel like this was a different person entirely. i felt a slight pang in my chest because i'd been the one who had insisted on him leaving his hair longer and now he'd erased that too.

his voice interrumpted my thoughts, "dad, that is not true and you know it." why was he defending me? in a way what ward said was true. i'd left him alone that night.

his father stepped closer to him and put his hands on his son’s shoulders, “son, trust me when I tell you that it is best for you to stay away from her. don’t set yourself up for disappointment. We know where that led you.” Ward then kissed his forehead like one did to a child in a condescending manner.

Ward then picked up the suitcases left and turned to enter the house, leaving him standing there with a strange expression on his face. He lifted his gaze and somehow found mine, like they always did. I’d forgotten how we always sensed the other, no matter how much time had passed. My heartbeat sped up, causing me to quickly turn around and ran away from him as fast as I could.

“He is such a good father to those kids, especially Rafe.” Vanessa, my mother’s friend said, swooning over ward. Like god, he’s married, get a life.

Either way it seemed like every corner of this island is haunted. Ever since he’d come back as a stellar young man, all the women at the country club started obsessing over him, but more so his father. They practically held him as a saint and it only made my blood boil.

I felt my mothers gaze on me when his name was mentioned, noting the way I flinched and seemed particularly interested in the half eaten strawberries on my plate. They continued to chatter, causing me to tune them out and look at my surroundings for a distraction. Big mistake.

The doors had opened as if on cue, and there he was with a new found confidence that was unfamiliar to me. Before I could look away his eyes found mine, quieting everything around me, dèjá vu flooding my body. We looked at each other for what seemed an eternity until ward came up behind him, clapping his hand on his shoulder to turn him away from me. The colder version of his son’s eyes bore into mine in a warning. Stay away from him.

I looked back down at my plate no longer interested in my food. My eyes welled up and I knew that if i stayed a minute longer on this table I would start sobbing or worse.

“Mom? I’m not feeling well so I’m going home,” my voice quiet in her ear and she realized what I meant.

She nodded, “take the car, ok?”

“It’s ok, I can walk home.” I needed to clear my head and driving wasn’t the best idea.

“Are you sure?” The concern in her eyes made my heart wrench.

“I’m sure, mom. Thanks.” I stood up and voicing my goodbyes, leaving the club as fast as I could.

The sun was out and the sky was clear of clouds, a stark contrast of how I felt inside. I walked down the path, golf carts filled with kooks passing me by. All of them chattering about the next party or newest deal they had closed.

I kept walking and walking until I reached the boardwalk, which was thankfully empty. I sat down on the edge, swinging my feet over the water with the girl staring back at me and somehow looked as if she was drowning.

The wind carried the sound of footsteps behind me, my body tensing as his perfume arriving along with his shadow looming over me. The drowning girl hid away, leaving me alone. I almost begged her to take me with her.

“Why do you always run away?” my heart sank and then restarted when I heard his voice. For the first time in months, I heard the world clearly again. I hadn’t realized the power it had over me. Didn’t you?

Who was I kidding? He would always be my favorite person, everything about me was shaped by him. My favorite color was blue, my favorite smell was his cologne, my favorite taste were his lips, my favorite sound in the world was his voice, his body my favorite thing to touch. But most of all, his soul.

I took a deep breath before lifting my gaze to his. The knot on my throat made it hard to speak, “Who said I was running away?”

He scoffed before sitting down next to me. “I know you. Or at least I thought I did.” His tone sounded reproachful, his eyes searching my face. this time i really looked at him, gone were his red, glassy eyes, the gauntness of his cheeks but most importantly, the anger that had felt permanently etched into his features every time he looked at me.

the buzz cut now made his features more prominent, his body was stronger and not as skinny as when he’d been living off cocaine and god knew what else.

he looked more like the rafe i’d met forever ago, but there was still something that wasn’t quite there. his innocence. which wasn’t the one of a child, but more so the type of innocence that comes with ignorance. the type where you think you can get away with anything and that bad things only happen to somebody else, but never to you. no matter how bad you behave, you genuinely believed there would be no consequences.

and the boy in front of me knew how untrue that belief was.

“rafe, i—” the knot on my throat became worse, preventing me from talking further. great, now here come the waterworks!

i turned my face away so he couldn’t see my tears but it was too late.

he took hold of my face, “look at me.”

i tried to jerk away but it was no use. i had no other choice but to cry silently while he judged me.

“im going to talk and you’re going to listen, understood?” his voice now held a tone of authority i’d never heard before.

that’s kinda hot. dude, now is not the time.

i nodded because what the fuck was i supposed to do?

he turned so both of his hands held my face now. then he did something i wasn’t expecting, he leaned in and kissed my forehead for what felt like an eternity.

when he pulled away his gaze held mine, with a force stronger than any physical restraint i could possibly be held in.

the tears were flowing freely so i probably looked like a drowned cat at the moment.

“im not mad at you, ok? i hope you know that i never asked for you to not visit me. i know it was my dad that didn’t want you near me, but i swear that the only person i ever wanted by my side was you.

“i won’t deny that i was furious when you left me that night. i only got worse because i didn’t have anyone to stop me, or at least try to. i felt like you were the last person that still believed in me, who would always be beside me. and i took you for granted.” his words felt like a knife through my heart. i abandoned him.

“rafe, im sorry. i shouldn’t have left you like that. not when you needed me the most.” my words barely made sense but he somehow understood. he always did.

“no. you did the right thing. i hurt you, i told you that i hated you. when all you’d ever done for me was love me. i’m sorry, ok? if you hadn’t left then maybe i wouldn’t have gotten help.” he lowered his hands to his lap, my face burning where they had been resting.

“i know you tried to help me. that you talked to my dad about how i was and i know that he dismissed you. he only took me to the hospital because i overdosed and he didn’t want the island to know how ward cameron’s perfect son was a drug addict.” he laughed in a humorless manner, “hell, he even paid everyone at the hospital to keep quiet. that didn’t help much, frankly. gossip always finds its way.”

i wanted to say something but i could tell he wasn’t done so i waited until he felt ready.

this time his voice was hoarse, making me realize he wanted to cry too. i couldn’t take it anymore because nothing could hurt me more than seeing him in pain.

“rafe?” i murmured. he looked up with a broken expression causing me to wrap my arms around him. i felt him tense for a second before he hugged me back tightly.

my shirt got wet with our tears and we clung onto each other like a lifeline, with rafe repeating my name like a mantra. after a while, we pulled away and he held my face between his hands like before, only this time much gentler.

“i miss you, im sorry.”

“i miss you too, rafe.” i fell back into him, resting my head on his shoulder. we sat silently for a while before he spoke.

“can we at least be friends?” the question caught me by surprise.

“you’ve always been my best friend, rafe. but again i’m sorry for not being there, i should’ve done more.”

“no, you couldn’t have. it was the way things were supposed to be.”

he played with my hair like he used to, “you’ve always been my best friend too, kid.”

i punched him playfully at the name, making him chuckle. i pulled back to see his face and i wiped away the few tears that were left with my hand. he fell silent, leaning into my touch, “i love you, you know? not being close to you drove me insane. and it makes me so happy to see that you are healthy, at least physically.

“i want to help you in any way that i can and i want to be there from now on, if—“ his lips crushing onto mine cut me off before i could finish. his hands were in my hair, holding me in place as if afraid i’d run away again.

only i knew i wouldn’t. not this time. he groaned when i bit his lower lip, softly. he ran his tongue along mine before i let him in. i sighed into the kiss and pulled him impossibly closer. our lips explained more than any words that came out of them ever could. i separated from him to breathe and he only kept kissing my cheeks, jaw, neck until he reached my collarbone where he rested his head with quick, short breaths.

“i love you too,” he said. i touched his hair and ran my fingers over the short strands.

“i like your hair, by the way,” i murmured.

he laughed, pulling back. “really? i got it because i thought you would hate it.”

i rolled my eyes, “are you serious? either way, you look good with any haircut.”

“i wasn’t exactly planning on this to go like this. in my head, i was going to confront you and tell you all the ways i’d been miserable but that went away when i saw you that night by my house.”

“oh.”

he chuckled, “yeah. oh. anyway, i was telling my dad how i was going to ask why you never visited me and that’s why he said what you heard.

“i then realized it had been him and as if life liked playing tricks on me, there you were at the gate with a sad expression. yet before i could say anything you left running. i wanted to go after you but my dad called me inside and i didn’t want a fight that night. so i waited until i saw you today and when i was going to ask you to talk to me, again my dad came along. but then i saw you leave and i figured it was now or never, so i excused myself and he was so busy talking to the others at the table that he didn’t notice.”

i scoffed, “well, i’m guessing he noticed by now.”

he laughed, “yeah.”

we fell silent but i still had one more thing to ask, “how did you know i was here?” though i think i already knew the answer, after all i hadn’t exactly been surprised when he came. more like a sense of having your intuition confirmed.

“remember the night we met? i was alone and drunk, saying i was going for a night swim when i saw you sitting here alone. which should’ve alerted me that you were a weirdo but between your beauty and the alcohol, those thoughts went to shit.”

i blushed slightly, “i’m not a weirdo, jackass. i’d had a rough night.”

“i know, kid. i’m just messing with you and besides, i might’ve drowned that night if you hadn’t been here,” he smiled fondly but a bit sad as well.

“so, that makes me your knight in shining armor?” i grinned.

he scowled in mock annoyance, “how dare you mock a damsel in distress?”

i chuckled and felt a heavy weight lift off my chest. i felt lighter than i had in a while, and all because of him.

“my apologies, dear.”

he took my hand with a smile and brought it to his lips for a kiss, before placing it against his cheek.

“but to answer your question, we always find each other,” his words sinking in. that was true. we always did as if there was some invisible string tying him to me.

“you’re right. although you’re still not beating the stalker allegations,” i teased.

“ugh shut up, it was one time!” he groaned.

i burst out laughing, “you followed me for a whole day! that’s some stalker behavior type shit.”

“c’mon, kid. i wanted to give you your bracelet back and i didn’t know where you lived,” his eyes widening in a too innocent way which caused me to narrow mine.

“a bracelet that wasn’t even mine. plus you could’ve just given it to me when you first saw me,” i crossed my arms in front of my chest with a raised brow.

“oh c’mon, but where’s the fun in that?”

i pushed his shoulder, playfully only for him to laugh and hug me.

“i really just wanted to know if you were with someone else, so i wouldn’t make a fool of myself.” he whispered in my ear.

“you could’ve just asked,” i rolled my eyes even though he couldn’t see me.

“i wanted to be cool about it, ok? i had a reputation to maintain,” he joked but i knew he was a little serious. he’d been the epitome of a rich, arrogant, country club boy.

“i thought you were such an asshole.” who the fuck wears shades inside of a convenience store? you guessed it: rafe cameron.

he gasped in mock surprise, “you’re just saying that because you had the hots for me.”

“pfft, sure buddy. i think you’re projecting a little,” i laughed.

“i never said i didnt,” this time his tone was a little too serious making my heart beat faster.

“can we try this again?” he asked shyly.

i pondered for a moment before answering, “yes, but i want you to let me help you this time, ok?”

he moved his head to look me in the eye, “i promise.”

“ok, but wait. what about your father?” i’d somehow forgotten how he hated me now. or maybe always had.

“what about him? i’m an adult, i can make my own decisions. besides it’s none of his business. he’s the one that got us here in the first place.” his tone was now angry, which was rare when he spoke of his father. it was usually filled with frustration and sadness when it came to him. and i knew how important his father’s approval was to him.

“rafe, i don’t know. he’s still your father and i don’t want to come between you two,” i lowered my eyes so he wouldn’t see the tears threatening to spill.

he was silent for a moment before lifting my chin with his finger, frowning when he noticed my expression.

“you’re the love of my life. i’m not losing you again, ok? he’ll have to understand and i will talk to him. i’ll tell him how things really went down. plus, he isn’t innocent in any of this either.”

pursing my lips, i nodded. “ok” i didn’t really believe ward would be capable of changing his mind, but if it made rafe happy then i would try and compromise.

rafe searched for my eyes with a soft smile, “i love you.”

i returned the smile, “i love you too.”

he then got up to his feet, reaching his hand down to help me stand. after a few more kisses and a hug, he took me to his truck. we drove around with no particular destination in mind but with the sole purpose of being by ourselves without prying eyes and judging remarks.

i hoped deep down that i wasn’t making a mistake and that everything would be ok.

and as if on cue, “everything is going to be ok.” i turned my head in surprise at his words.

“don’t act so shocked, kid. i know you better than i know myself.” he then lifted my hand again and kissed it like he’d done on the boardwalk.

i chuckled and leaned my head back, closing my eyes. with the windows down, the ocean breeze, his hand drawing circles on the back of mine, and the soft music playing, i felt myself float away.

“sleep, angel. i love you.”

and then i woke up.

JK JK IT’S NOT A DREAM.

or is it? HEHEHEHEHE

ALSO WHY IS SHE SO CODEPENDENT??? LIKE GIRL STAND UP (says the one who wrote her 👯‍♀️)

anywayyyy, if you made it this far THANK YOU. I LOVE YOU!!!

please feel free to write comments or whatever, i love talking to you all 💞

and if you liked this check out my other stories!!

im currently writing a murder mystery kind of story and i only have two chapters for now, but i will make flashbacks with like text messages and diary entries and stuff. i’m trying to make it as if the reader is part of the investigation (I HOPE IM DOING A GOOD JOB) and i already have how i want the story to end but writing it is the hard part. like how long do i make it?? i don’t want to rush it but i really want to finish it because the characters take a mind of their own when i write. does that make sense? prob not lol

div creds!!- by @anitalenia

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unexpected 55

Warnings: non/dubcon, child endangerment, pregnancy, pegging, Lloyd being the worst, post partum, csection, suicidial ideation, Andy is nasty in this, violence, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You've done this before. Waiting out a man. Biding your time. Before, you didn't realise it. You just did it.

With Colin, you just went through the motions, waiting for something, anything to change. With Lloyd, it was waiting for the next combustion, the final one that would send it all spiraling.

Now, you're just waiting on yourself. Because now you know it's up to you. It always has been. You were just too stupid, lazy, and blind to see it.

So you do what you have to. That's nothing new. That's the easy part. Luna is the only one keeping you going and you know, you're the only one to keep her going.

When she cries, you go to her. You're no longer play the part, distracting yourself with your own motherhood, trying to get through the day. No, you want to be there for her, you want to comfort her. And in turn, as small and innocent as she is, she does the same for you.

And when Andy needs you, you bite down and get through it. Another familiarity. When he touches you, when he kisses you, when he says those disgusting things. Clawing, pawing at your chest, sucking and biting at your body like and animal, rutting with desperation until he's breathless. He thinks the noises you make are just as delighted as his own. You let him believe it, just like you let him believe this little makeshift domesticity is real.

Until the moment comes. Until you will keep that promise to yourself. To her.

You sit in the rocking chair, Luna on your chest, peaceful in his absence. You don't know why he left, you're just happy he did. It's a moment to rest, for you and your daughter.

She's getting bigger. Four or five months now, you think. Things change so fast yet move so slow.

As you let your eyes close, there's a thump at the door. The locks grinds back noisily as the baby stirs against you. You huff and try to get her to fall back asleep as Andy enters. He leaves more often these days but not for very long

"Shhh, she's asleep," you warn him, watching her eyes slit, she's almost there.

He shoots you a look as you peer up at him but doesn't say anything. You tisk. You know what he wants. You stand carefully and take Luna to her crib as you hear him pacing around behind you.

"I don't what I'd do if I didn't have you, honey," he rambles, "I just... the world's a crazy place."

He's telling you, you hide your disgust at his lack of self-awareness as you lay Luna down.

"It's going to be okay though, we're going to be okay," he rants on as you face him. He has his shirt halfway up his torso, "aren't we?"

"Sure," you answer.

"I just..." he rips his shirt over his head, "I need you so bad right now."

You nod and come forward, forcing a curve to your lips. He's as easy as any other man, just a little less stable. It's funny to think so when you have Lloyd to compare. You put your hands on his chest as you approach him. You caress him, feeling the soft hair beneath your fingertips as the tension uncoils from his shoulders. He puts his hands on your hips and steps closer.

"Are you full?" He asks.

You look at him, he's staring at your chest. Your stomach churns. Your tits are close to ready, just in time for Luna to wake, but he only cares about himself. You don't answer as he feels along the belt of the robe and unknots it. He pushes it open and dips his head down, kissing your chest as he growls.

He angles you towards the bed. You zone out as you let him and fall back beneath him. He puts his lips around your nipple and you cry out as he sucks. You hate that feeling, you hate the noises he makes, moaning like a pathetic little beast. He squeezes your tit as he keeps his mouth sealed around the bud. You grit your teeth and focus on breathing.

He shifts to put his knees between yours, pushing them apart so you're open to him. Without lifting his head, he picks at the front of his jeans, shimmying them down as his need builds. He dribbles down your chest as he parts and sits up on his knees. He pulls your legs over his and strokes himself, pressing his tip to your cunt impatiently.

You're dry as he rams insides. He grunts and holds himself deep, the tendons in his neck taut as he grips your hip, his other hand groping your chest meanly. He ruts, slamming into you as hard as he can. There's no precursor left. He doesn't pretend. He takes what he wants and you don't stop him. He accepts your complacency as love.

The bed shakes, the frame hitting the wall, bang, bang, bang. The noise hammers away at your soul and the silence. You hear Luna murmur, babbling as she awakens. She doesn't cry even as you want to. She's just a baby. She shouldn't be here. He shouldn't do this with her right there. Only the bars of a crib to protect her.

You put your hand on his wrist and the other on his stomach. You need him to be done.

"That's it," you growl through your teeth, "harder."

He obeys easily. You swallow down your whimpers as his hips crack against you. He's almost there. You can feel it.

"Come on, honey, give me it," you squeeze his wrist tighter and grunt.

"Oh yeah, you want it," he growls, "you want me to give you another baby?"

You can't help but choke. He doesn't notice as he dips his hips into you, looking down to watch his motion. You curl your lips in repulsion. Just get it over with.

"Yes," you gulp out, "yes, give me... your baby."

Your mouth is bitter as bile rises in your throat. He groans, louder and louder, and falls over you, his hips rolling frantically as he chases his release. He buries his face in your neck.

"You wanna be a mommy again," he rasps, "be a good mommy, mmm--"

He grunts and snaps his pelvis, once, twice, three times, then quakes as you feel him spill into you. You hold your breath as your eyes tinge. He slides his arms around you, inside the open robe as he pants. He clings to you, pushing himself as deep as he can get.

"I can't wait to be a daddy," he purrs.

"Mhmm," you rub his shoulders, "I know, honey."

He doesn't move, even as Luna begins to fuss. Your chest begins to thrum as she cries and you pat Andy.

"Please, she needs to eat."

"Mmmm," he drags a hand up as he leans on one elbow, fondling your tit again, "I want a little more."

"Andy, honey, please," you plead, "she won't have much."

He snarls and pouts as Luna cries loudly. He jams himself into you so you whimper and slides out roughly. He bounces off of you and sits at the end of the bed. He stretches his neck and flicks you away with his fingers.

"Fine, go ahead," he sneers, "but after, you can get on your knees and give me a suck."

You shudder and sit up. You glare at the back of his head. You could bash it in but you know you're not strong enough.

"Yes, honey," you turn your legs over the side of the bed and stand. You try not to wretch as a gush flows down your thigh.

You close your robe and tie the belt, crossing to the crib as Luna wails. Your hands linger on the thick belt. You pull them away before your thoughts can stray. You take Luna out of the crib and put her to feed. Andy stands and strips off his jeans and briefs.

You walk around as you feed Luna, when she calms, you cover your chest again and keep her in your arms. Andy huffs as he plays with himself in the bed. His impatience strikes another flash of anger in you. The belt of the robe cinches you tightly as you shift your daughter in your arms. You whisper to her and lay her down again, handing her one of her crinkle toys.

You back away and pull the curtain across the space between the bed and her little nursery. You turn to Andy and shake away your agitation. You put a knee up on the bed and lick your lips.

"My turn?" You ask as you crawl over to him, grabbing his half-flaccid dick.

He nods excitedly and you feel him twitch in your grasp. You move between his legs and tease him, hovering your lips just above his tip. You look up at him with a smirk. You're done waiting.

🍑

This, you haven't done before.

You sit against the bedframe in the dark. It's quiet and still. Eerie even.

It is the isolation, it's not the prison cell built to look like a home, no it's what needs to be done. What you're going to do.

Luna sleeps soundly in her crib, only just dozing after another bout of frustration. And beside you, another infantile creature, snoring to his content. The taste of his salty flesh sickening on your tongue.

You inhale deeply and let it out as you feel along the fabric of your terry robe. Slowly you tug the belt from the loops, inch by inch. Your chest coils tightly as it comes free and you hold the lax fabric in your hands. You stare at it in the small glow of the nightlight plugged in only a few feet from the bed.

You're jittery as you wind each end around your hands, yet numb as you push away all your thoughts. This isn't a time for doubt. You're done letting that hold you back. You pull the belt taught between your hands. It's innocuous at first glance, probably why he never even thought to remove it from the robe. To him, it was a simple knot he pulled to get what he wanted. To you, it's freedom.

You glance over at him, his shoulders broad, moving slightly with each breath. You pull the belt to full tension. You have one chance, you have to make it count. For more than yourself.

You get on your knees and edge towards his back. You raise your hands and hover them over him, shaking as you build the nerve. This isn't just as simple as tying your shoes, this is... life and death. Yours, his, Luna's.

You swoop the belt down and pull it tight around his neck. He grunts and twitches away. You quickly knee him onto his stomach and straddle his back, bringing your weight down on him.

You twist the belt around itself and pull, pull, pull. He chokes and spasms, pushing himself up. You can't stop him, he's too strong. You hook your legs around him instead, staying latched on as he gasp and claws at his neck.

He falls onto you, knocking the air out of you, but you don't stop. The heat flowing through you keeps you fighting. He rocks atop of you, writhing and kicking, reaching back blindly as he scratches down your face. You won't let go. You can't. You've come this far there's no going back.

It goes on for what feels like eternity. He just won't stop. You twist the belt tighter and tighter, the gagging battle for his life souring your stomach. Then he's still. All once, it's over and he lays limp atop you. You don't loosen the belt until you're certain he's entirely still.

You drag yourself from under him, watching him as you think he might come to life at any moment. He doesn't move. Is he dead? Did you do it?

Even if he isn't, it's a chance. This is your escape. This is it.

[shhrrroooommmmmyyyyyy]

HB Generational Trauma: Paimon → Stolas

→ Octavia

*Before I get attacked, nothing I say is to defend the actions described. I am simply trying to explain and make sense of it.*

Many fans approach the topic of Stolas being a good or bad father with either black and white-good or bad or completely gray answers. The black and white are pretty straightforward, usually going something like "he says this but does this anyway" or "he's neglectful", which are all valid opinions here. As well as the gray opinions, usually saying "he really tries, he just doesn't get it right".

Honesty, I can't say I disagree with any of these opinions honestly. I don't have evidence to back this up, but I have a feeling I know where the writers are going with this. I think they will, maybe sometime soon after hearing via's line in the trailer, have Stolas sort of "wake up" in a sense and realize what exactly he does. Get hit by the good ol' self awareness train, if you will. It's called character development.

I've seen many people call this bad writing but I disagree. I think that's the direction they're going for Stolas's character development. I think with the episodes so spread out, people forget we're only three episodes away from only being halfway through the series as a whole. There's still plenty of room for development.

Anyways, back on topic. Let's look at Paimon and Stolas from the Circus episode. I love the Loo Loo Land parallel with it.

Paimon enjoying himself from home while Stolas is miserable and clearly doesn't want to be there. The only thing that gets him through it without crashing out is Blitzø. Paimon seems to not notice he's even there at all until he starts enjoying himself watching Blitzø. And when he figures out what's making him so happy, he literally buys Blitzø later to keep himself from having to deal with him all day. Of course Stolas is too oblivious and distracted by Blitzø to realize, but that makes complete sense seeing how oblivious he is as an adult.

So now let's look at Stolas and Octavia in the Loo Loo Land episode.

Stolas is enjoying himself, but actually present. Him actually being there is an improvement; however, Octavia's not enjoying herself. She already didn't want to go because she was too old to enjoy it. And on top of that, Stolas flirting with Blitzø the whole time made her uncomfortable (which he was also too oblivious to realize).

I think the parallels here are interesting. Overall I think the writers ave done an excellent job of writing generational trauma, hence the title of this post. Now let's look at Stolas' line from Western Energy:

This line made a slight change in their dynamic from my perspective. It's clear he loves her and would do anything to protect her. Much different from Paimon. I think he tries so hard to be better than Paimon that he subconsciously ends up doing what Paimon does. This is called the ironic process theory or ironic rebound (psychology nerd here, as you can tell). However, the difference between him and Paimon is that he apologizes and recognizes that he made a mistake. He's trying. And even so, what examples of a good dad would he have had growing up that would've guided him in the right direction?

Although he keeps making mistakes, he is still trying. He's not prefect. I think Via knows this; nevertheless, it's hard for her not to get frustrated at him for making them sometimes. Especially when he promised he would do something with her and didn't in Seeing Stars.

No matter the extremity of the efforts made toward doing so, generational trauma will never be completely healed in one generation (look at me using smart words). While Stolas has made a pretty big dent in the healing process, it takes more than one person to erase the trauma. Although Via is as far as the line will go with her being confirmed asexual, I think Stolas has done a lot more for Via than people realize.

I have a few notes about Blitz and Loona on this topic as well. I might wait till after Ghostfuckers in case it gives more info to put in that post

[ccswife]

Oh No..

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part 4: is it working?

previous

pairing๛: kate martin x iowau!reader

synopsis๛: kate catches you watching your saved edits of her

warnings: slight angst (barely)

not a lot of dialogue in this one, but low-key proof read :D

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It's sunday morning, and you wake up to a bright ray of sun in your face, peeking through the barely-shut curtains. turning over in your very, very warm bed, you notice the time on your phone.

as well as some notifications..

9:23AM

notification center

3 messages from bear🐻

[goodmorning star sunshine!]

[hows the hangover?]

[r u alive]

you reply to her texts and chat for a little bit. she admits halfway through your in-depth conversation about what you drank and what color your throwup was, that she didnt remember anything from last night. ANYTHING. your head was already reeling from the raging hangover you had aquired, and this made it ten times worse. you begin to play a game of eenie-minie-moe with yourself. "do i tell her? do i say nothing? do i ruin it? do i protect my own feelings?" after at least 7 minutes, you come to the conclusion to not say anything. hey, you know what they say! ignorance is bliss!

you climb out of bed and grab some clothes to go take a hot bath. bathes are very good on tense muscles, and aroma-therapy helps to ease anxiety, reduce inflammation and sooth headaches. it was about 10 when you hopped in, and you planned to stay there till the water got cold. after the fact, you showered quickly to wash the grime off and get the hairspray out of your hair. finally getting dressed into a comfy pair of sweats and a oversized shirt, you go to cook some breakfast. cooking breakfast always was a good thinking time for you, as it wasnt super busy in the mornings and you could stand there and watch the eggs or pancakes cook whilst contemplating every decision you have ever made leading up to that moment. todays topic was " what the hell did i do to get into this position with the girl i love!" and it did not dissapoint! feeling that the topic was actually taking years off your life, you decide to give yourself a kate break and call out of work for monday. you used the "im sick *cough cough* and i never take days off!" excuse and it worked surprisingly well!

after a calm morning and breakfast, you chilled on the couch and put on a random show for some backround noise. it was now about 11ish, nearning 12. scrolling through instagram reels, you get a notification that kate posted on her story. (yes, you have her story notifs on.) clicking on the notif, it brings you to her story.

you nearly dropped your phone.

another woman....hiding her face..... LUNCH DATE?!?!?!?!? so shes seeing someone? you've never seen this woman in your life, so obviously a secret. even from you, her best friend. honestly, it took some life out of you. with everything going on between you two, you didn't exactly know how to feel. did you deserve to feel like this, like you had been "betrayed"? part of you knew that that was a little dramatic, but nevertheless still very valid. if there was one thing that Kate and the girls had taught you, its that your feelings will always be valid, whether they change or stay the same. these specific feelings made you lose your appetite, and frankly the will to live. aggressively turning your phone off, you get out of the deep crevice you were shoved in on your couch and make your way back to the bedroom.

"and here, I shall lay"

you dramatically say as you fall onto the bed, draping a hand on your forehead as you do so. you opt to watch "Crazy Rich Asians", just to believe-in some sort of love, and cuddle up in between the sheets. half-way through the movie, you feel multiple buzzes from your phone. opening it up, you see a bunch of texts from a very worried gabbie and caitlin. they know what happened last night, so the story she posted as alarming to them as well.

shhhh🤫

gabbie babbie wabbie

y/n are you alive

sos

hello

caity baby

we saw kates story

obviously its not u cuz ur not tagged

r u ok

gabbie babbie wabbie

lil harsh there cait...

caity baby

whoops sorry

but r u alive

get out of bed

gabbie babbie wabbie

y/n🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

hello🥺🥺🥺

answer pls we miss you and wanna know ur alive

caity baby

y/nnnnnnnnnnn

after scrolling through the messages, you liked a few and explained you were ok, and that you took tomorrow off and are gonna lay in bed for a while. they remind you to eat and be good to yourself and you reluctantly agree and promise to them that you'll comply. finally finishing your heart-wrenching movie, you fall into a light sleep. periodically you respond to your texts, as kate had been texting you quite normally. this includes all the regular nicknames and stupid jokes she always made. you'd be lying if you didn't love the normalcy she was exuding, and that it didn't bring you comfort in your relationship. it just solidified your decision to not tell her about last night, in order to keep what you two have now. you were sure that you could shove all the feelings down and support your long time best-friend in her romantic endeavors (not with you). at about 7 o'clock, kate asked if she could 'stop by' and obviously you agreed.

IF you were being 100% honest with yourself, you were seriously nervous. you hoped that you wouldn't slip about what happened and how you felt about the insta story. at exactly 7:16pm, kate knocked on the door of your apartment and you graciously let her in, immediately being engulfed into a bear hug. she had the biggest smile on her face as she pulled back to look at you.

"hello beautiful" she tucks a piece of hair behind your earn, rubbing her thumb against your blushed cheek. "I missed you today! it feels like its been forever" she pouts at you, doing her signature puppy eyes.

you giggle at her and reply in a blissful tone. "ive missed you too katie bear, how was your day?" pulling away from you, she starts to walk to your bed room, you following close behind. " it was actually really good! I had a really good lunch today. you would've died at how good it was. it was some Italian place downtown." she draws out the emphasis on 'really', and continues to talk as she plops on to your bed. " I went out with my friend nancy, she graduated last year and is interning at a dental place by school" you join her on the bed. "oh yea? is she a new friend?" curiosity killed the cat, but you tried to be as discrete as you could with the tone of your voice. obviously since she was talking about it, she is open to the subject. kate goes on to rant about how she's her new friend, how they met at a coffee place, blah blah blah. then she gets to the surprising part.

"-and then after we talked about edits, she mentioned how she has a whole folder of them! I dont think ive met anyone with a folder of women's ball edits! it was so funny, and then she mentioned how there were a few of me in it! I laughed so hard I-" after she said that you stopped listening and internally crashed out. never met anyone with that?????? does she not remember catching you???? it genuinely boggled you how one of the only people that remembers every single detail about you could forget that. deciding again not to say anything, you mentally join back into the conversation and give her 'mm's and 'ohh yea's to let her know you were acknowledging her rant. the conversation slowly turned into showing each other stupid tiktoks and reels. both of your eyes began to droop, and whilst laying on each other, the two of you fell asleep.

and together you peacefully slept, blissfully unaware of anything else happening in the world

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a/n ◕‿↼ : wooooo finally chapter 4!!!! I finally got a laptop so this is way more fun and wayyy easier to do so im a tad bit more motivated. I know this one wasn't the most exciting and didn't hav much dialogue but there's a lot to come guys dont worry I'm cooking up some good chapters. love you pookies! enjoy pls🤗

[delanokeay]

putting this here in case Vi @theatredelabsurde doesn't want spoilers on her post. @jessaerys, behold! my thesis.

my background: I've read two books by Miéville (Embassytown and Perdido Street Station).

in Miéville's defence: his ideas are genuinely unique and interesting. he writes aliens that actually feel alien. his fantasy has an equal 'scientific' approach to magic, while also maintaining a eldritch horror element. the eldritch horror and body horror are disgustingly awful.

the technical writing is fine. Perdido Street Station is all over the place when it comes to pacing, but it's one of those books that could work if you're in it for the journey, not the destination.

my specific issue is that when you peel away the fantastic elements, what his stories actually say is reprehensible.

Embassytown

the plot of Embassytown is basically:

galactic empire sets up a colony on an inhabited planet at edge of the known universe, for trade/etc.

due to the native inhabitant's biological quirk (two mouths/one mind) and how they conceptualise language (literal/similies, devoid of speculation, lying, etc) the aliens can't communicate with humans or even recognise our speech as language

humans develop a method to communicate in their language (bio-engineered clones conceptualising themselves as one person, therefore getting past the two-mouths/one-mind problem)

a method for two separate people to speak their language is developed and trialled

the contradiction of two mouths/two minds, speaking as one, is such a mindfuck that it has a drug-like effect on the aliens.

most aliens become mindlessly enthralled by listening to this type of speech. it is so extreme that they can no longer think for themselves, but are slaves to their addiction.

other aliens are literally mutilating themselves so that they don't succumb, and can keep their minds in-tact.

a solution is found by the main character: she teaches some aliens to basically think in metaphor, and eventually to lie, therefore allowing them to think in a way that's compatible with the two-mouths/two-minds contradiction.

the aliens adopt a human-like approach to language (lying, metaphor), which fundementally changes the way that they think.

the book ends on an optimistic note looking forward, like this is all progress.

so, what we have is a book about an empire setting up colonies, desecrating the local population, destroying their (primative, child-like) language (they can't lie), and replacing it with their own. the characters who resist are portrayed as terrorists holding back progress.

as far as metaphors go, it is so on the nose and so exact that I'd almost think it intentional. if the intention is to portray the horror of cultural genocide, Miéville completely misses the mark in remembering to portray any of this as 'bad,' or even to acknowledge what is happening.

Perdido Street Station

torture is a contentious topic. many people (even those who believe it's wrong) still think that torture is alright under the right circumstances: what if there's a bomb and this guy knows where it is? what if the victim deserves it? what if the victim is a paedophile?

these emotionally-laden arguments that lend credibility to the idea of torture by removing it from its context: a weapon of the state. if torture is effective, or if it's an acceptable measure to take against some people, then ultimately that means torture is okay.

but the real value of torture is not as an information-gathering tool, nor as an effective deterent for heinous crimes. it's a threat against enemies: this is what we'll do to you if you don't pack it in. the idea that it's justified in certain circumstances is propaganda to that end.

this book repeatedly presents torture as effective, justified, and a reasonable method of punishment.

about halfway through Isaac tortures a guy. this is presented as the correct thing to do. while unpleasant, via torture he's able to gather critical, time-sensitive information. also, his victim is a horrible man in favour of mutilation as a punitive measure (remaking).

his victim is also presented as undignified and cowardly while being tortured; this is presented as a weakness on his part, basically being unmanly and unworthy of the respect awarded to victims.

meanwhile, Yagharek's introduced as a victim of a different type of punitive mutilation, which is rightfully regarded as a disturbing violation. for most of the book, he's a sympathetic figure; it's acknowledged that he didn't deserve this, and that Isaac is right for helping him recover.

then it's revealed that Yag's crime is (basically) rape. Isaac is so disgusted that he backs out of helping Yagharek, which is seen as the uncomplicatedly correct position.

I've seen arguments that Isaac responded this way because he's personally affected by this crime via what happened to Lin. I don't buy it: Miéville included the context of Lin's rape as justification for invoking 'rape is a special kind of evil', therefore justifying why Yagharek actually deserved to be tortured and mutilated.

other examples of torture in this book are treated as disturbing, violating sources of horror and tragedy. but, critically, it's only bad when someone else does it; when Isaac tortures someone, or condemns Yagharek, it's okay.

essentially: torture is fine so long as the justification is compelling enough.

but in this case, the story itself is built on the idea that torture is not bad -- it's only bad when it's deployed by the wrong people, against the wrong people. it's threaded so consistently through this book, alongside ideas about which victims are sympathetic and which are inconsequential losses, that I find it impossible to separate this aspect from the rest of the story.

final thoughts

I don't think every story needs to have a moral or teach a lesson. but, when an author chooses to include something, I think it's fair to expect him to treat those subject with the respect they deserve. in both books of Miéville's that I read, I found his portrayal to be lacking.

neither cultural genocide nor torture are fictional. but for both, even in the real-world, they're very rarely acknowledged as serious issues; what acknowledgement exists often misunderstands it completely.

there are many people, for example, who actively think that languages like Irish or Welsh should be abandoned and left to die, because everyone speaks English now, so what's the point?

likewise, while many people do acknowledge that torture is bad, the severity of it is often understated, and many people do just straight-up think it's okay.

in both cases, these elements are included as explicitly positive forces that move the story to its inevitable end. I find it impossible criticise either element individually, without looking at Miéville's capabilities as a writer and what he chooses to portray as a whole.

[blakbonnet]

AUTHOR OF THE WEEK: @clairegregoryau 💕

Everytime the topic of fandom kindness and community comes up, of helping each other out and fostering a quiet corner where people can be themselves, most people in our little fandom think of Claire. She's written over a million words of OFMD fic and read even more, and you can always see so so many recs over on her twitter. Incredible good vibes, and an author who truly lives to lift other authors up. She also does SO SO much for fic authors over on the OFMD Fic Club server <3 And she was incredibly kind and shared her entire writing process with me:

What's your writing process like? Do you start with the beginning or the end? Do you write in order or as the scenes come to you?

I’m a huge advance planner, which is a process that has developed for me over more than 25 years of writing original fiction. I’ll get whacked with a story idea, then I’ll sit down and set out the central kernel of that idea, and where it needs to start, where it needs to end, and what the turning points need to be to get there.

A lot of the time I use a three-act structure, largely because Jenkins has talked about OFMD using that structure (one example here). So that makes it easy for me to hold to the canon beats when I’m writing AU stories, or to mirror them in canon-era stories, which is also something I try to do most of the time. With long experience (and now 1.7 million words of OFMD fic written (!)), I find this part of the process really easy. I’ll usually do that plotting by hand-writing out my notes, because it really fires up a different part of your brain.

Because I am such an advance planner, I do tend to write in a completely linear way from start to finish (I also pretty commonly post my long-fics as I write- each chapter goes up as soon as it’s finished and has a final editing pass). Punching through it in a linear way, knowing the ending that I’m working towards and being enthusiastic to get there, really keeps me motivated.

I do all of my writing in 30-minute sprints at the OFMD Fic Club Discord, where we’ve built a lovely and LOUDLY enthusiastic writing community that anyone is welcome to hop into 24/7. For those who find the constant chat a bit overwhelming, we also have a Quiet Focus Sprints channel. Again via long practice, I’m a very fast writer, but that’s accelerated a lot more over the last couple of years, paradoxically because I couldn’t write the way I used to anymore.

I was diagnosed with an autoimmune disease that includes some fun brain impacts at times, and it’s really hit my working memory especially. I used to be able to hold all the strands of a complicated story together in my head as I wrote, but now I can’t do that as easily. So that’s why the outline is important for me, so I never lose track of the idea- I’ll also do a quick outline at the start of each chapter I’m writing that notes what needs to happen, and then I’ll write in what I call layers, getting down whatever I can first, and then doing sweeps back through it to add internals, narrative detail, sensory details and so on. I make a LOT of notes and square brackets as I go to remind myself of things to look at later.

I also use a plot matrix [Twitter thread, Example Matrix] that you may have seen floating around- I mostly use it to keep track of plot details that have already happened within a story, so that I can check it out at a glance, but I will sometimes plan certain elements in advance (as in the case of Tree Change, which covered 87 of the 93 Kinktober prompts last year across 12 carefully planned chapters). There’s always space when I’m writing for the characters to surprise me within that plot framework- as a final plotting thing, once I’m at the halfway mark I’ll often plot backwards from the planned end to make sure that I’m on course, and to see what I need to adjust.

Favourite trope or headcanon you like to explore while writing?

I really like to dig into the friends-to-lovers trope that sits at the heart of the show. The Ed and Stede relationship reminds me immensely of my own- like Rhys and Taika as friends, we’ve been yes-anding each other for over 25 years (all of my least hinged fic ideas come from bouncing thoughts back and forth with my husband), and it’s been a steady mix of constant silliness, curiosity, and care. We’re best friends first and that’s one of my favourite things about Ed and Stede, that they are, too.

What I really love about it is the vulnerability of these two people who’ve been hurt so much by others in the past, who’ve never been fully appreciated for all the things that they are, and in each other they find the one absolutely perfect person who just gets them, and it makes all the difference. It’s always fun to play with that and variations on it in fics, and it’s usually the beating heart of my stories.

Whose voice is easier to write - Ed or Stede? Why?

I want to say that I find them both equally easy depending on the story. Ed as a character speaks very much the way I think- he has that ADHD buzz, the high swear level, and a very AoNZ turn of phrase that’s also very familiar to Australians (like me). Writing Ed is like turning the inside of my head out and it always flows easily.

But I have always said that I see myself in both characters in equal parts, so I find Stede pretty easy to write as well. I feel like I pretty solidly understand him as a person, with his history of rejection and his commitment to trying anyway, and trying to be kind, and letting himself be fascinated by things, from piracy to books to moths to Ed (that one’s not hard).

Your personal favourite thing you've written that you'd like more people to read

This is a near-impossible question with 69 OFMD fics up on AO3 😅 I really do love them all, and I have a lot of smaller one-shots that haven’t been read as much, but overall I’m incredibly lucky with readership and so so grateful for everyone who enjoys my work.

But my recent Reverse Bang fic The Broken Lines is hugely important to me and I think it’s probably one of the best things I’ve ever written anywhere. It’s set in the aftermath of the First World War (my professional zone of expertise), and features a Stede who’s lost his voice, his memory, and as far as he knows, his Ed. He gradually remembers what happened with the help of the crew and another Ed, who appears in his mirror from 1719, searching for his own Stede. It was a beautiful collaboration with artist Gerlinde to begin with, but I also got to work with one of my longest-term writing friends Jill @followedmystar as my beta, and then with Boy, who made a truly transcendent podfic that I can’t yell about enough.

What is the one word that you think you use a lot?

I think the word I have to zap more than any other is “actually”, and there are still a million of them in there when I’m done. The main reason is that to stick close to canon voice, I try to incorporate a lot of the less iconic/ more ordinary turns of phrase that the characters use a lot in their speech (I’ve watched every episode of the show… way too many times), and both Ed and Stede actually use “actually” a surprising amount. I just use it an even more surprising amount 😂

(This just sent me on a QUEST to find a specific number because I am that kind of nerd- Stede says it 15 times in S1 and 12 in S2, and Ed says it 8 times in each, for totals of 27 and 16, many of them in distinctive moments; it just gives that little buzz of recognition for me. I started out screenwriting before I moved to prose, so my writing tends to lean pretty strongly on having a recognisable, almost audible voice to the dialogue, as well as a cinematic visual style for the big adventures especially).

Do you have a beta reader? Have they made you a better writer?

I quite deliberately don’t use a beta reader for most of my OFMD fics, because being in this space is an exercise in recovering from lifelong paralysing perfectionism around writing especially. I’ve spent so many years not finishing original work because it never feels like it passes the invisible bar for perfection that exists in my own head. So when I started writing OFMD fic, I set out to accept good enough as good enough, and to get back to enjoying writing as fully as I can.

Obviously this means that my work could be better, but I’m actively working on letting that thought go and loving everything I’ve made just as it is. When I have worked with beta readers on projects that require them, like the Reverse Bang, it’s been with friends who I trust and adore, who I know will listen to what I need (cheerleading, mostly), and will do their best to work with me on improving the story without letting me spiral into hating it all because it wakes the perfectionist beast back up.

That doesn’t mean I’m without regular support, or that I’m not trying to improve my writing! I read an absolutely insane amount of fic, and I’m always in awe of the talent we have on this ship, and always learning from what other people do well. In lieu of beta readers, we share snippets of work all the time in our sprints team, so I get feedback there; I also get it from readers in progress, who often give me a sense of what’s hitting the way I hoped and what needs a bit of tweaking. I also have lovely group chats and individual friends like Kerry @communionnimrod and Lis @ghostalservice and Jill who I can run to if I need an opinion on whether an idea feels right or not, which I will often ask.

I’m very very careful with my writing, but in a couple of rare instances readers have also DMd me to note spots where I’ve inadvertently included something that doesn’t reach the sensitivity standard I’m aiming for. I’m always grateful for that gentleness and bravery in reaching out and I’m always happy to change something or to add tags or notes as needed.

Why OFMD 🥹

I watched the whole show in one hit a week after the final episode aired, and I loved it immediately, but I thought I was going to be normal about it. The unravelling into complete, unrelenting obsession happened gradually as I rewatched it with my husband and teen, then again, and again, then started to read fics and hunt up art, then started joining fan spaces, and then dived into writing my first fic in two and a half decades (all original writing between The X-Files and here), thinking it would also be my last.

I’m still here, still writing constantly, and a major portion of it is the show and how distinctly it reflected all the many parts of me, some of which I’d never seen so clearly before. I had a tough childhood in a few different family respects. I didn’t understand that I was neurodivergent until I turned 40 and my own kids were heading for diagnosis, and I’d been rejected constantly throughout my life for being too much. I was a high achiever who was in the process of crumpling under pressure right when I watched it, and while I’d been figuring out my sense of my own queerness for a few years, I’d never had a community that helped me feel at home with that.

And in the end it’s the community that’s been the reason I’ve been fully sucked into fandom for the first time since my teens- the writing in this space is top-tier wonderful, and the community is such a found family, just like the Revenge. Being able to write and have people actually want to read that writing, being able to cheer others on and hype their work, being able to help set up the OFMD Fic Club Discord and make it a safe spaceship for so many people, has been incredibly fulfilling and lovely. 

Please head over to @ofmdlovelyletters (who also made the header) and send your love to all your favourite authors (and authors of the week 😈 watch that blog for some special letters coming your way)

[literallys-illiteracy]

Today's Shy Look:

Trigger Warning: This Analysis contains mentions of:

NSSI (Non Suicidal Self Injury)/ Self Harm.

ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder)

----

Literally's note:

This was originally part of the Hod/Literature floor analysis, but however due to the nature of the topic i thought it best to post separately for those who may want to avoid reading about this.

also because the tone is completely different from the rest of the floor's analysis due to my swapping into scientific introduction mode halfway through instead of the PM autism mode which i usually write in. for any future Abnormalities which have a similarly sensetive thematic i will do the same as here, linking back to this post with the same warning to make it easier to avoid.

Ok now back to 'Essay Literally' instead of 'Socially inept Literally', <3

~~~

The story of “Today’s Shy Look” is one of a person being forced to express themselves to the community despite being shy, they wanted them to express emotions to show that they are happy - Shy Look took to flaying their skin and carving 5 faces on different patches, so that they would be able to wear these masks and express their emotions, pleasing the people of their community; 

ostensibly Today’s Shy Look’s story is one of neurodivergence, more specifically developmental disorders such as ADHD, or in this story’s case, Autism, fitting the thematic of an inability to express oneself, and a societal expectation to do so.

The flaying of the child’s skin is analogous to the harm that this societal pressure can create among children who diverge from the norm, having to change themselves in order to please others, to fit the permanent square peg into the permanent round hole; to climb up the slope of the bell curve; to become Normal.

The story may also be read in a more literal sense, the harm which society places on divergent children being not only that of an inordinate social pressure, but the actions which may follow, actions which bare a much more direct parallel to the child’s flaying of their skin.

There is a correlation between self harming and Alexithymia (Norman et al., 2020), a common symptom in ASD (Kinnaird et al., 2019); Additionally there is proposedly a correlation with ASD and developing psychiatric disorders, specifically depression and anxiety (Lugnegård et al., 2011);

Due to a harder time understanding emotions and an inability to properly express them, individuals with ASD are more likely to self harm (Vandewalle & Melia, 2021)

; those who lack healthy support, are more prone to viewing themselves as being “incorrect”, leading to attempted “Self correction” or “punishment” when one does not act to their expectations, this concept of heightened standards is called perfectionism (Frost et al., 1990;) (Gyori & Balazs, 2021).

Often  i have noticed a correlation between emotion repression and low self esteem alongside a sense of perfectionism (conjecture, 2024), additionally comes a link between self harming and shame, using it as a form of motivation (Schoenleber et al., 2014).

We can elaborate on this concept through the lines present in Library of Ruina and Lobotomy Corporation:

“Goodness, why are you making such a face? You're making others feel gloomy too. Please be more considerate, you don't live in this world alone after all.” 

The concept of deviation from societal norms being something that should be eliminated, the shame that the child may have felt for abstracting from the norm ; The posing of the child as “Selfish” or “inconsiderate” when they are the ones expected to change their ways for the others, leading to the belief that they are the ones required to change, that they are the ones who have done something wrong;

"Do I look a bit better now? I hope I do…"

The pressure and desire to conform to the ways of the society, the disregard for their own suffering in lieu of the community’s values;

"What the fuck do you want from me? To keep smiling like an idiot?!"

The frustration with the community’s wanton expectations, the repressed emotions coming to the surface, the resentment at the community at large.

[howlsmovinglibrary]

You mentioned in the tags of a recent post what you’d change about Funny Story to make it a different book. Would you mind elaborating on what you meant by that? I’m curious!

hey anon, thank you for being a massive enabler bc this has in fact been my special topic for the last 48hrs.

I want to state off the bat that I still gave this book 4.75 stars. I really, really enjoyed it. That being said, I'd literally rewrite the entire thing to get it to 5.

Answer under the cut to avoid spoilers! (also shout out to @eldritchcow bc these ideas are not formed alone but through a series of ranting voice notes lmfao)

The premise of Funny Story is that two exes move in with each other after their partners run away together - the main character, Daphne, has her wedding cancelled as a result, and Miles, the love interest, also gets a pretty crap deal bc his girlfriend literally breaks up with him via A NOTE ON THE KITCHEN COUNTERTOP, before running off on holiday with another man (after they hook up AT HIS BACHELOR PARTY. DAPHNE AND MILES DESERVED TO DO VIOLENCE). Miles and Daphne move in together, a series of circumstances means that Daphne tells her ex they are now dating, and that Miles will be her plus to the NEW WEDDING that they have been INVITED TO.

Personally, I think this - two exes move in, fake date, develop feelings - is such a juicy set up for a novel, that it could carry the whole plot. But at about the halfway mark, a bunch of other stuff - family drama, friendship drama - is bought in for the third act conflict. The exes and all their drama fades to the background, and its no longer about this Very Juicy Set Up, which I think is a shame. I think that the premise could've carried the entire plot and that there was no need to bring in additional conflict... except that Emily Henry is known for adding conflicts outside of romance to her novels (creating well-rounded, 'feminist' characters - I'm not being mean, that is just the perception of it and what she is known for) and that this is thus more brand appropriate. By the same logic, it is 'less feminist' of me to argue that the book should've been more about the romance.

But it should've been more about the romance.

If I rewrote/re-edited this book, I would do the following.

Make Daphne and Miles be messier people. These two characters behave like FUCKING SAINTS, while their exes are awfully and affably evil. I've had multiple friends say that Daphne should've hit Peter (her ex) with a car. I don't necessarily think that would've been the way, but I think she should've made much more spiteful decisions. I think Henry is very concerned in stressing that these are Two Very Goody and Utterly Blameless main characters, but I think they should've gotten a little spite as a treat, actually.

And the spite they should've gotten as a treat is - fucking each other.

As is the way with romance books, there are certain 'acceptable thresholds' for smut/romance scenes. So I get it, I really do. But Daphne and Miles only bang once it's a healthy decision... and I'll be honest, it would've been sexier if they had had sex in an unhealthy place. (for the people who've read the book: kiss at the drunk night out with Gil, sex at the truck or before the truck, then Sex With Real Feelings at the point where they actually have sex)

If they had had sex out of spite/petty revenge first, then the entire plot of the book could've been around 'catching feelings' and this would still have been a totally valid character arc. I would've liked to have seen more questionable decisions that are still somewhat about the exes - more of the 'are we doing this for them or for ourselves?' conflict which is microdosed at the midway point - and then feelings developing, and then making the 'no I actually really like you so we can't do this for the wrong reasons anymore' be the final sex scene before the third act conflict

Two things would be vastly improved by this change: 1. a weird scene where Miles sees Daphne in her former wedding dress, and they really should've fucked? but they don't? because that would be the tiniest bit weird??? (like, slightly weird and messy, in such the smallest way, but I think it was sanitised down for that reason) 2. the fact that their exes break up and call-off their wedding off screen. Have them break up at the rehearsal dinner that Miles/Daphne are attending, actually. Then you have your third act conflict.

The third act conflict of Funny Story is insane, convoluted, and unrelated to the story, IMO. Is it still well written? YES. Emily Henry, you will always be famous. But my favourite parts of it were 1. both Miles and Daphne get caught in their exes' orbit as they break up, and this causes them both to doubt their relationship (shout out to Miles having such low self esteem that he automatically thinks they're back together, I understand you king) 2. Daphne fucks up a promise she made to a friend (but bc she's not allowed to be a bad person - see the first point - it's for totally understandable reasons), leading her to wonder if she's just become part of another couple, where she's swapped one man and his house for another man, and his house. I personally think that these VERY MINOR FOOTNOTES in what is ACTUALLY the third act conflict... are a third act conflict in and of themselves. And... if we go back to what I said about Emily Henry being known for Feminism™, the second part of that is a totally valid trope/feminist critique to dig into in depth that would, if given time to breathe, be 'on brand'.

In this book, Miles drives 2hrs to try and get Daphne's shitty dad to come back to her. Where is this energy, for Peter? I think, Miles should've punched Peter, as a treat. And Petra should've had more scenes, so that she actually had a personality beyond 'being hot'.

I think we should've had a messy wedding scene. Daphne and Miles are each others plus ones, but they never get to attend bc the wedding is called off. But that wedding?!!! or that rehearsal dinner?!!! IS THAT NOT THE STUFF THAT THIRD AT CONFLICTS DREAM OF???

TLDR - I think Funny Story should've had more sex, and been more about the romance premise and the kind of fucked up, messy choices and weird feelings that premise engendered. I think the third act should've been connected to pre-existing conflicts, instead of creating new ones. I think Miles and Daphne could've had a little revenge, as a treat. They should've allowed to be sexy and weird about it.

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

A Hazy Shade of Winter

Javy 'Coyote' Machado x Reader

Description: It feels like something has inexplicably changed between you and Javy Machado during your two day drive across the country. He's different with you, kinder, sweeter, and softer. It's a side of him you could easily fall in love with. But before you drum up the courage to broach the topic with him, the two of you are in Jake and Nat's cute little house in Virginia and it feels like the moment is gone. One soak in a hot tub affirms your feelings and Javy's. The hours following are more fulfilling than you ever would have expected. All you can thank are Jake and Nat's hot tub.

Themes: Hot tubs, hot tub sex, shower-sex, falling in love, winter

Warnings: Female!Reader This fic is for adults age 18 and older, only! There are spicy happenings in this part! Please do not read if sexual intimacy is disturbing to you!

Word Count:

Author Note: This is part two of Gypsy and Javy's story and was written for @bellaireland1981's Winter RomCom Writing Challenge! I had an absolute blast writing this fic for Trope #17, Stuck Together/Snowed in/Stranded. I hope you all love reading this fic as much as I loved writing it! All my thanks go to @desert-fern who was instrumental as I bounced ideas back and forth for this fic, as well as for beta-reading it for me!

Read 'Tis the Damn Season here!

Cross Posted on AO3 Here!

My Masterlist

Something has unraveled between you and Javy Machado since that night. There are tiny gossamer ribbons of emotion, of trust stretching out from your ribcage to his, anchored within the beat of your heart and his. You've been talking as the hours turn into days with nobody else for companionship. You've talked about anything and everything, from your childhood to his, to childhood rituals and challenging duty stations. But you’ve never once addressed the kiss - kisses, really. It feels like electricity is zipping through your veins with each stolen glance, each languid glimpse you steal of his physique from the corner of your eyes.

Just as you ask him why he kissed you, if he meant what he said about being in love with you, the car jolts to a halt. It’s early, bright, and bitterly cold, a fact Tash does not appear to notice with how she’s waving excitedly from the front porch. You feel for Jake in that moment. Unlike her boyfriend, who is bundled up in a thick coat, boots, and jeans, Tash is just wearing leggings and a baggy bright orange Longhorns Jersey. You can see she’s wearing flip-flops on her feet, and you pray you’re headed back inside soon before she gets sick.

“You made it!” She’s practically dancing when you make your way onto the porch laden with your bags and a not considerable amount of snow. “I had my doubts, you know? I wasn’t sure you could make it with Javy halfway across the country without murdering him.”

 “It was a near thing, Tash.” You shrug as Jake opens the door for you, shivering at the blast of heat washing over you as you set your bags in a pile in the foyer.

“Hey, Jake.” Unencumbered, you hug your friends, giggling as Jake hoists you up and spins you around in a circle. Then you get wrapped up in a warm hug from Tash and dragged through the house. You can vaguely hear Jake and Javy following behind the two of you as you walk through the house, laughing and catching up. The culmination of the tour is a bedroom.

“So, Gypsy, this is the guest bedroom.” The bedroom is beautiful, painted soft cream with white wood furniture. It feels like summer in a room. But when you mention as much, you’re surprised to see Tasha’s mouth fall open in surprise.

“What?” You need coffee for this, please. Jake and Tasha just share a look with each other. The room feels stifling as you look between your friends, and surprisingly, it’s Javy who puts you out of your mystery.

“Gyppie, I think Tash means that this is the only guest bedroom.” You turn then, taking in the queen bed at the center of the room. 

“Oh.” You turn back to Javy and smile just a little. “I’ll take the window side of the bed, then.”

“That works for me.” He hands you your bags with a grin of his own. “You forgot these downstairs.”

“Thanks, Javy.” 

“Gypsy?” You turn to look at your best friend, unsure of what her tone means, though you can see a shocked expression on her face. “Come on down to the kitchen with me. I have coffee down there. I think we need to talk.”

You follow your best friend easily, smiling as Javy squeezes your hand in his as you pass. It’s an action that both Jake and Tash see, and as you follow Tash down the stairs, you can see the questions floating around her head.

“Do you still take your coffee with an obscene amount of cream and a spoonful of sugar?” You nod and accept the hot mug, letting Tash drag you to sit at the kitchen table. 

“What the hell was that?” She’s adopted her gossiping position, one leg curled under her butt as she leans forward. The big jersey’s sleeves cover her hands as they clutch her mug. Unconsciously, you end up mirroring her position, sipping on your coffee and letting the caffeine hit your stomach as you think of what to say. 

“What was what, Tash?”

“You didn’t fight about sharing a bed with Javier Machado! That’s what.” You shrug. 

“Things have changed, Tash.” At her snort, you find yourself spilling the beans. The night in the motel room, miles away, feels like a dream. Her squeal when you get to the kiss nearly deafens you.

“He kissed you!” She sounds practically giddy with glee, her eyes bright as she looks at you across the warm wood table. “And you kissed him back!”

“So, what now? Does this mean you’re in a relationship with him now?” 

“I wish I knew, Tash. We haven’t talked about it.” Her mouth parts in dismay.

“Is that why you haven’t objected to sharing a bedroom with him?” You nod sheepishly. “Is there anything Jake or I can do to help?”

“Not really, Tash. We just have to communicate. Communicate like we’ve never been able to before this. It's just…” You sigh softly. “It feels right, spending time with him. It feels right in a way nothing else ever has. I have butterflies, literal, actual butterflies in my stomach when I talk to him. I used to think that feeling was hatred. But the past few days have taught me differently.”

“I’ll see what I can do to make sure you have some time together, Gyp. I’ll make sure Jake knows, too.” You smile softly and change the subject. You’re not sure you could face either of the men overhearing this particular conversation.

“So what’s it been like - having your own house and living with Jake?” It was the right question to ask. Her face lights up as she discusses buying furniture and decorating the house. You haven’t seen her this happy in a very long time. You get absorbed in the conversation and manage to forget the question of what Javy and you are for half an hour more. 

You get yanked out of your cozy conversation when Jake clatters into the kitchen. Javy follows at his heels, the scent of his cologne preceding him. 

“The shower’s all yours, Gyppie.” You hand Jake your empty mug and move to leave the kitchen.

“Wait a sec, Gyp.” You turn to look at Jake. “I’m making brunch now, and we didn’t have anything planned for today. If either of you feels like taking a dip in the hot tub out back, you’re welcome to.”

You wave your goodbyes and head up to take a hot shower. The bathroom is still neat, with only a little bit of steam in the air. It feels amazing to wash off the dirt of traveling cross country in a car. By the time you leave your room, the house smells deliciously of coffee and breakfast. Your stomach rumbles as you accept your laden plate and settle in next to Javy at the table to eat your meal. The atmosphere is light as you talk and laugh, catching up. Javy’s hand finds its way to your thigh under the table, and that one point of contact makes heat slide through your system.

In the mid-afternoon, after Jake drags Tasha into their bedroom for a nap, which you’re almost 90% sure isn’t a nap at all, you walk up into your room to change into your bikini for a soak in the hot tub. Javy has obviously had the same idea because he’s standing in the room in a pair of yellow swim trunks with red lines going down them. The sight makes you drool a little bit because the shorts are just a bit too short, revealing the mouth-watering expanse of his tanned, strong thighs and his truly enviable six-pack abs. You grab your bikini and excuse yourself to the bathroom, uncomfortably aware of the flush in your cheeks and the dazed look in your eyes as you change into the simple black fabric.

You pull on a pair of sweats and exit to an empty bedroom. You can faintly hear a moan from behind the closed door of the master bedroom, and you make your escape. Tash might be your best friend, but you don’t need to know what she sounds like in bed. You let yourself out via the kitchen door and toddle carefully out to the hot tub. The ground is covered in a layer of frost, and you’re underdressed for this weather. Thankfully, you’re not going far. The hot tub is at the bottom of the backyard in a little shed. The gate’s open when you step through, the cover off and the water steaming in the cold air. Javy’s already in the tub, languid in the bubbling water. His clothes are on a bench in the back, and you set your towel next to his. Your skin prickles with goosebumps as you drag your sweats off, shuddering as you fold the garments up and set them near your towel.

“Come on in, the water’s perfect.” Javy’s eyes are dark as they drag over your form. Your nipples pucker into hard peaks at the sight before you. It takes you several moments to screw up all of your courage and step in. The water feels nearly too hot on your chilled skin, but once you’re in the tub up to your collarbones, you feel a little bit less exposed.

“That bikini looks amazing, Gyppie.” If you were flushed earlier, you’re even more so now.

“It’s just a plain black bikini.” You deflect, “It’s nothing special.”

“I’d argue that it is.” You jump when his hand wraps around your ankle. “It’s borderline indecent how two small triangles of fabric make your tits look mouthwatering. I haven’t seen your ass, but I’m sure it looks fabulous too.”

You chuckle awkwardly because you don’t know how to respond. You’re not sure why Javy’s being so profuse with compliments. He was the person who seemed so content with not addressing the kisses from the motel. Now he’s got his hands on your skin and complimenting your body?

“At least come here, sweetheart.” There’s a soft smile on his face, his strong fingers rubbing circles against your ankle. “I can’t see you through all the steam.”

It feels like you’re in a trance as you take his hand and let yourself be pulled into his lap. This close, you can feel the muscles of his thighs flex under your thighs. 

“Much better, sweetheart.” His hands are on your waist, thumbs resting just against the underside of your breasts.

“What’s going on? What happened to my bold, pretty Gypsy who kissed me like that in that motel room?” You freeze from where you’d been slowly acclimatizing yourself to sitting in his lap. “I can’t believe this shy little thing is her.”

“I…” To your embarrassment, you stutter a little at his earnest question, and you can’t meet his eyes. “I’m not usually like this.”

“Is this just another thing that’s a reaction to me, then?” His hands slide up, hot and wet, to draw your face up until your eyes are level with his own.

“Why are you doing this, Javy?” Of all the questions you were expecting to fly out of your mouth, this wasn’t one.

“I thought I told you why in that motel room.” You gasp. “I’m in love with you, Gypsy. I always have been.” It’s when he repeats the words with your name that you start to believe him.

This time, you initiate the kiss, smiling when you feel his grin against your mouth. He takes control soon afterward, licking into your mouth in languid strokes that have heat spiraling through your veins. Your chest heaves when he pulls away. Despite the hot water lapping over your chest, you have goosebumps across your arms, and your nipples are hard. You feel special in his gaze.

“What’re you thinking about, hmm, Gyppie?” His hands haven’t strayed from their place on your ribcage, no matter how much you’d like them to.

“I’m thinking about how stupid I’ve been by denying how electric I feel in your presence.” 

His laugh takes your breath away. “Those are awfully big words for somebody wriggling on my lap like this.”

When you move to stop, he tugs you in closer. “I didn’t say, stop, baby. I think I might die if you do.”

Javy kisses down the side of your throat, the wet slide and suction robbing any sense you have. You’re powerless to do anything but moan as those big hands undo the tie of your bikini and as his mouth dips lower and lower. The heat languishing in your belly burns in a sharp, stinging ache as his parted mouth meets the peak of your breast. You shudder and curl a hand in his hair. That vicious ache between your thighs pulses in beat with your rushing blood. You whimper, honest-to-god whimper, when he pulls away.

“C’mon, baby.” You let Javy pick you up and carry you out of the tub. “I’m not going to fuck you in here. Let’s get back into the house, okay?” 

You nod dumbly, not sure where to look or how to act when there is so much arousal in your veins. He dries you off carefully, kissing the swell of your breasts before tugging your sweatshirt back over your head and your pants up your legs. You observe as he turns off the tub and the lights and let him lead you back into the house. Your bikini is trapped in your hands, and your lips feel swollen with the force of his kisses. Thankfully, the house is still silent, barring the occasional gasp from the master bedroom, as you close the door to the guest room and lock it.

This leaves you looking right at Javy, seeing the heat in his gaze.

“I'm going to take a shower.” You murmur, turning your back to him as you tug the damp clothing off in his view. There's a foreign confidence in your veins as you untie the bikini bottoms and let them smack, water-laden as they are, on the tile floor. When you step under the hot stream, you're praying that Javy understands what you want. You're not sure you can take the mortification of being wrong when you have to share a bed with him.

You're more than pleased to find you're not wrong when arms wrap around your bare form minutes later. He's hard against your butt, and his hands are very busy mapping your skin.

“Been dreaming about this, baby.” His voice is a guttural moan, which has you melting in his big, calloused hands. “Gonna make you feel so good.” 

You whimper when his hands leave your skin. You can't believe your eyes when you turn around because he's kneeling on the tile as the water rains onto his upturned face.

“Can I eat you out, baby?” You nod and let him manhandle you with your leg over his shoulder. The first swipe of his tongue through your folds has you seeing stars. His big hands hold your thighs open as they shake under the onslaught, soothingly massaging the muscles as they tense and your toes curl in pleasure. You twist your nipples, tugging on the hard peaks in a near rhythm to his tongue as your body crashes towards your first orgasm in months. Everything feels sensitive as the band in your belly tightens, the pressure making your thighs quake as you bite your lips.

When his lips wrap around your swollen clit, he sucks gently as you cum with a garbled screech of his name. Your hips buck wildly as your back arches. When Javy slides his way back up to standing in front of you, he has to tease your lips out from between your teeth.

“Aww, baby, look at you. My beautiful Gypsy-girl.” There's naked affection in his gaze as he kisses you. Your eyes flutter slowly closed as he kisses you.

“Javy?” He hums in response, hands busy squashing your ass. “What about you?”

“Aren't you still, you know, hard?” Your voice is a whisper barely audible over the drumming water.

“How could I be when I have a beautiful thing falling apart on my tongue?” You're giggling into the kisses he lays across your mouth.

Your daydream in the motel shower was right. Javy Machado's hands are the perfect fit for your curves, the rough pads of his fingers so gentle as they massage soap across your skin. You hope that your hands feel just as perfect on his skin as you return the favor.

“You're mine, now, Gypsy.” Javy keeps murmuring the words possessively into your ears. It sounds almost like he's reassuring himself that you're truly here, in his arms, despite your murmurs back in the affirmative.

His gaze is unbelieving when you push him onto the bed, still damp, and crawl over him. His body responds to your touch as you pepper kisses down his chest, pressing one featherlight kiss against his cock. You can already taste the salty-sweet tang of his precum as you slide back up and capture his mouth into another kiss. This kiss is punctuated by his moans as you work over his length, using your own arousal to ease the way.

His gasp is in perfect harmony with your own as you ease yourself onto his length. He's big, and he feels even better than he looks as you sink inch by excruciating inch down his length.

“God, baby.” You preen in your position atop him, soaking in the pure love in his voice. “You feel so good, baby. Make me cum, baby doll. Go on.”

The order, coupled with your arousal, has you lifting yourself up and settling back down, over and over. You're chasing the high of your last orgasm once again, everything fever-hot as you take your pleasure. When your steady rhythm falters as your thighs burn, Javy flips you onto your back. His muscular body heaves over you, his eyes dragging torturously over your spit-slicked, parted lips, your erect nipples, and your puffy cunt.

“Gypsy, you look so perfect.” His words are worshiping, his cock sliding over your wet heat as he kisses your neck. The sharp sting of his teeth against your pulse, coupled with the blunt press of his cock has your back arching and a moan tumbling out of your mouth. Now, the pace is brutal. His lips are bared in a growl as his muscles glisten with sweat. The bedroom is filled with the smack of skin against skin, and unbidden, you can feel another orgasm coming over you.

Javy doesn't help that, not when he kisses you filthily and growls, “Feel so good, baby. My pretty Gypsy girl feels like she's gonna cum, huh? Her little pussy fluttering around me?”

You can’t respond in anything other than gasps or moans. All your thoughts are driven out by the press of his skin against your own. The two of you cum together, muffling your pleasure against each other's skin. You find yourself in the shower again once you can feel your feet, this time sharing lazy kisses as you melt into his arms.

When Tash and Jake walk down the stairs an hour later, your hair is a damp mess around your face. There's pasta sauce bubbling on the stove and garlic bread in the oven. A bottle of wine is breathing on the dining table, but neither you nor Javy care. Not when he's got you caged up against the counter, kissing you as you try to sing along to the music playing softly from the speakers. There's snow falling to the ground outside, but in the house, everything feels warm and bright.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR ON TUMBLR BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR TUMBLR, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

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[imagine-knb]

My fav Admins are still posting!! Yippeh! anywayyyss can I request GoM+Kagami+Kotarou+himuro on how they would react when their fem crush who's quiet and reserved around others but is bubbly and talkative (and weird in a good way) around them saying "Last night I dreamed I was a bottle of ketchup....and you were mustard...which is weird bc usually your mayonnaise in my dreams why do you suppose that is? :3" like js randomly in comfortable silence between them hehe <33

The irony is the fact that I then went on a months long hiatus... 😅 Admin Neon

Kuroko: There's a beat between the end of your sentence and his response, but when he finally does open his mouth, it's laughter that falls out. Kuroko barely ever heard you speak, so to have something so off topic and random slip past your lips definitely caught him off guard. He asks you to elaborate, wondering more about these silly dreams of yours.

Kagami: There's a slight smirk on his face when he asks, "You sure you weren't just hungry?" The story of your dreams has his own stomach growling, so Kagami offers to bring you out to lunch while you continue telling him everything. It isn't until he's at Maji Burger and he sees how perfectly mustard and ketchup combine that he starts to think deeper about your dreams. It has him blushing.

Kise: You are halfway through your dream explanation when you realize Kise is staring at you in wonder. The second you pause long enough to give him a word in edgewise, he's breathing out a quiet, "You dream about me a lot?" Something about your accidental confession has his heart swelling, despite the oddness of your actual dreams.

Aomine: There's a snort that comes from his as he drops himself beside you, shoving his arm against yours. He compares his dark complexion to your own. "You sure you weren't the mayo?" he teases. He's trying to get you to fluster, trying to hide his own embarrassment from showing after you revealed you dreamed about him often.

Midorima: He had been listening to you intently the entire time, soaking in all the details of your dreams. But when you got to the part about ketchup and mustard, Midorima couldn't help but get lost in confused thought. Surely that must've meant something, right? Ketchup and mustard when together far better than ketchup and mayonnaise, so this was a good sign. Right?

Murasakibara: His brows furrow as he thinks about what you've just said. "Why mayonnaise?" he asks, poking at the skin of his arm. Was it his complexion? Did something about his personality just scream mayo to you? He almost didn't want to know, nose wrinkling. Even mustar wasn't that much better of an option. "Can't I be something else? Like some nerunerunerne?"

Himuro: He hides his slight smile behind a hand as you describe your dream. You don't notice his furrowing brow underneath his bangs. Is being mayonnaise in your dream supposed to be a compliment? Why does it feel like an insult? Himuro listens to your long tale nevertheless, nodding along and asking furthering questions. He wants to get to the bottom of its meaning.

Akashi: There's a brief moment where he has to pause, nearly asking you to repeat yourself. Akashi takes a moment to process what you've said, though it still doesn't make any sense to him. Instead, he latches on to the only thing he can wrap his head around. "You dream of me?" he asks, expression changing from confused to amused when you start to stutter in embarrassment.

Hayama: His energy matches yours exactly and, despite taking a second to catch up to your line of conversation, Hayama joins it with just as much enthusiasm as if the two of you were talking about basketball. He asks you about your dreams and counters with stories of his own. They sound just as random as yours and he points out how the two of you must be more alike than he thought.

[helenrourke]

Thank goodness I finished reading that arc. Not gonna lie I sped read it.

As I was reading it, I began to wonder if there was any adaptation of Hana Yori Dango that made the Umi arc bearable.  I suddenly remember while I was halfway through reading the arc, there was one such adaptation.  Without further ado, let me share why the F4:Thailand drama adaption handles the amnesia trope the best.

The final episode of series deals with amnesia plot.  Like the manga Thyme (Tsukasa) has gotten attacked and he forgets who Gorya (Tsukushi) is.  The beginning of te plot is like the source adaptation with Gorya and the F4 acting out moments from the two relationships to try and help him remember.  However, it doesn’t work according to plan (Thyme does get these massive headaches as he tries to remember) and since there is NO UMI in this version (which I love) Thyme’s mother acts as the villain in this arc.  By kicking out Gorya out of family estate, where she waits by the front gate until nightfall.

After, Goyra has a heart-to-heart with his mother, and she finally realizes that Goyra is good for Thyme.  Thyme interrupts the conversation, and basically yells at Goyra telling her she doesn’t know him and the only thing important to him is the family business, despite Goyra telling him he had other dreams once. Honestly Bright Vachirawit and Tu Tontawan gave it their all in this scene. It was really well done.

Goya has had enough, she asks Thyme to come back to her, only for him to tell her to leave.  In that moment she believes their love story is truly over.  Believing that she won’t be able to change him again, she tells him she loves him one final time before leaving the manor.  While Thyme’s mother is watching all of this from the sidelines (with a ‘what have I done’ expression no less).  The sad insert song starts playing, as it should.

That is until Thyme finds the shooting star necklace on the ground and picks it up.  And after a flashback of Goyra wearing the necklace appears in his head and Thyme chases after her.  Which results in this cute scene where Thyme and Goya talk, where he keeps asking her about moments that happened around the season, he slowly remembers which leads to this adorable moment.

I'm sorry but it’s so sweet and partly why it's my favorite version. It didn't drag on, it felt refreshing as a new take on the scene, and there was no other girl trying to steal the main lead away. I think this was one of the things this adaptation got right when they modernized it for 2020's.

I also want to say the way they use social media in this version and the dangers of what social media can do to an individual makes me happy as a Grad School student who is studying Library Media Science.  This is a topic we go over with high school students on a regular basis on why they shouldn’t post everything online.  I am constantly seeing how far the administration is comfortable with me using anime and tv drama in my lesson plans.  I mean I did get to do a workshop for parents on the dangers of microtransactions.  I have this one idea for a lesson based on several episodes of Oshi no Ko.  That’s a story for another time.

Anyway, I’ve said it several times already, but I really do love the Thai adaption, and I do recommend it.  So if you have time check it out since it’s free on Viki.