#not super high quality but high quality in my heart

[sempercry]

No-context Jason screenshots I stumbled across on my computer

[goldensunset]

when a thing is so good you can’t even post about it tbh you have no idea how to even do it justice it’s so important to you that it just has to live in your brain quietly forever

[utvarpcity]

just saw a neat little trio of sweden’s best bands live

[level2janitor]

Introduction to the OSR

what's an OSR? it's a game that's kinda like old-school D&D. or is old-school D&D. or is compatible with old-school D&D. an OSR game generally has some or all of the following principles:

low character power with highly lethal combat. in old-school D&D a 1st-level fighter has d8 hit points and a longsword does d8 damage, and you die at 0HP. this is not to ensure characters die all the time but to emphasize the next bullet point:

emphasis on creative problem solving. most situations cannot be solved by straightforward use of your abilities (such as charging into every situation with swords drawn, if a fighter), so the game tests lateral, outside-the-box thinking.

emphasis on diegetic progression. spells are found, not obtained automatically on level-up. you get XP by finding gold more than killing monsters. most of your cool abilities come from magic items. making alliances & hiring followers is encouraged.

focus on managing inventory, resources, risk, and time. the players are constantly faced with meaningful decisions; this is the heart of the game.

very sandbox-oriented. the focus on creative problem solving means the game must be accommodating to players taking a course of action the GM didn't plan for. use lots of random tables to generate emergent story. some elements of new simulationism.

high tactical transparency, i.e., the optimal course of action is rarely system-specific, and ideally very possible for a new player to intuit.

usually semi-compatible with old D&D, but not always. usually rules-lite, but not always.

what does the OSR mostly NOT do?

focus on character builds. these change the focus too much to be on the rules than the fiction, can create situations where stuff everyone should be able to do is an ability locked to one class, and impede tactical transparency.

resolve everything with a die roll. combat uses dice to be scary, unpredictable and most importantly not your default course of action. everything else should bring up dice rarely - dice are your plan B when your plan A fails. the best plans need no dice.

use linear storytelling or put players into a writer/GM role. linear storytelling gets in the way of the decision-making so core to the playstyle; letting players write details into the setting is mutually exclusive with them discovering it.

rules for everything. 400 pages of crunch is worse at simulating a believable world than the GM and players' shared understanding. OSR games rely constantly on GM ruling.

mostly still applies to all the above. making your system a "pure" OSR game comes second to doing what's best for your game.

System recommendations

old D&D or a retroclone

old-school D&D - or old school essentials or basic fantasy or swords & wizardry, which are old D&D's mechanics repackaged with quality-of-life tweaks (and the upside of not giving WOTC your money) - are usually the go-to when recommending someone's first OSR game. they're actually not my first pick, though!

PROS:

very complete, with more robust rules than a lot of the lighter games on this list.

100% compatibility: most OSR adventures are statted for old school essentials. converting them to other OSR systems is usually simple, but not 1-for-1.

easier to find games for. anyone interested in the OSR space knows what old school essentials is.

CONS:

jank. these games largely still have weird saves, level limits for non-humans, some still have descending AC, etc etc. it's not that bad but it is there

i hate thief skills. lots of essential dungeoneering actions are locked to the thief class as abilities, with abysmally low success chances. this is stuff i prefer being handled without a roll. thieves in this system suck and make everyone else worse at dungeon crawling by existing.

there's just lots of really cool shit in other systems i'm about to go into that you just don't get here

Knave 1e and its various hacks

this is a 7-page super-lightweight system that boils everything down to just the essentials.

rolling a character takes like 5 minutes. roll stats, roll gear, roll traits, go. done. it's great.

characters are defined entirely by stats and gear, no classes. wanna be a fighter, have high strength and carry a big sword and armor. wanna be a wizard, have high intelligence and fill your inventory with spells. item slots are elegant and pretty limited.

initiative is instant: roll d6. 1-3, monsters go first. 4-6, PCs go first. swingy, but god it is so smooth and shaves like the most boring 5 minutes off of every combat

monsters are so very elegant. old D&D gives monsters a "hit dice" rating to determine their HP, e.g. a 3HD monster rolls 3d8 for hit points. knave takes this number (HD) and uses it for attack rolls and saves (aside from exceptionally bad/good saves), so a knave statblock looks something like this.

spells are all one or two sentences long & extremely easy to remember.

7 pages is so light. i have the system basically memorized.

DOWNSIDES: there's no dungeon crawling rules (standard for meatier OSR games & something i consider essential) and no real bestiary, though the second point isn't a huge deal cause they're so easy to make. it also kinda assumes you already know how to run OSR games, so there's very little real advice or guidance.

KNAVE HACKS

knave 1e is in creative commons & comes with an editable word doc for you to publish with modifications, so there's a ton of variants (there was a spreadsheet of them somewhere, but i can't find it).

Grave is a favorite - i'm two years into a grave campaign and it's fantastic. it's a dark-souls-y version of knave with some really elegant innovations.

you have a set number of deaths before you for-reals die, as every character plays an undead as is dark souls tradition. makes it good for OSR beginners! being able to tell when you're close to your final death is really good - it lets you emotionally prepare for losing your character & raises the stakes more the more you die. (though honestly you should probably cut the number of extra deaths in half, it's super generous)

XP and gold are combined into one resource, souls. legendary creatures drop big souls you can make into magic items. this has ended up being the coolest thing in my current campaign. my players love finding powerful souls to make into magic items it's so fun

uses preset packages of stats/gear instead of knave's rolled ones, filling the role of more traditional character classes. has the wonderful side effect of not making you get stuck with low stats cause you rolled bad one time.

you have stamina equal to your empty item slots. you spend stamina on spells if you're a caster, or free maneuvers (on top of your attack at no action cost) if you're not. it's super elegant.

there's 3 classes of spells: wizardry for intelligence, holy magic for wisdom, and witch stuff for charisma. nice and intuitive.

there's a page of 50 magic items each a couple sentences long. this PDF is worth it just for the magic items.

DOWNSIDE: see the downsides for knave 1e. all still apply.

i enjoyed grave so much i made a variant of it with the dark souls bits removed (and some dungeon crawl rules added!) to use for my standard fantasy campaigns.

Knave 2e

sadly knave 2e is not purchasable yet (i backed it on kickstarter so i have access, though). but when it comes out i highly recommend it.

much larger and denser than knave 1e. it finally has dungeon crawling rules, it has GM and player guidance, everything is refined and the layout is so so nice and readable.

combat is a bit more interesting than 1e. you can break your weapon against an enemy to deal max damage. you get a free maneuver on high attack rolls.

there's rules for stuff like alchemy, warfare, building a base. it all kicks ass.

there are so many goddamn tables. i rifle through it anytime i need inspiration.

DOWNSIDES: some of the new rules are a little untested & wonky. introducing randomness into how often your rations spoil or your lights go out can cause issues.

Mausritter

you play tiny little mice! in a world full of big dangerous things that want to eat mice. cat = dragon. you get it. what more could you want

the mouse thing is just super intuitive. you get the dynamic between you and the big scary lethal world. fantastic OSR game to introduce kids

nice and robust ruleset; nothing feels missing

tons of super nice GM stuff! faction rules, tools for rolling up hexcrawls and dungeons, plenty of tables

super clean readable layout. font isn't too small to avoid being intimidating. guidance is really nice and clear.

combat is autohit. super fast & lethal.

100% free

look mausritter is just. good. i wanna run it so bad someday

Worlds Without Number

sort of a middle ground between OSR stuff and 5e. paid version here free version here

lots of classes, at least in the paid version. the free version comes with just the warrior, expert and mage. there's feats and more of a focus on builds than most OSR games. if you like more mechanical build variety than a typical OSR game, this is a great game for you!

extremely good multiclassing. y'know how in most games if you just mash together two classes you think are cool you'll end up with a total mess? not here! every combo is viable and works fine! easily the best multiclassing of any game i've touched

an absurd amount of GM stuff and tables. easily more than any of the other stuff i've praised for also having them. but personally i haven't dug into them as much, so i can't really comment on them

skills the way modern D&D has them. you roll dice and try to beat a target number. i don't tend to like rolled skills, but most people do, so if that's your thing WWN has them

DOWNSIDES

the layout is terrible. everything is a huge wall of text with very little use of bold text or bullet points to draw attention to the important bits. the table of contents has like 15 things in it for a 400-page book! i couldn't find any of the paid-version-exclusive classes for like a month after i bought it! looking up rules is a nightmare.

the way the default setting handles "evil races" is like an exaggerated parody of all the problematic aspects of how D&D handles it. like, it wants so bad for you to have an excuse to genocide sentient free-willed people. but at least the default setting is easy to chuck in the trash

Dungeon Crawl Classics

the goal of this system is to take all of the crazy gonzo moments people remember playing old-school D&D in their childhood and turn all of that up to 11 while cutting the stuff that doesn't add to that. i think a lot of its innovations have ended up kind of standard in newer OSR stuff (like fighters getting maneuvers with their attacks), but it still has more to offer.

the funnel: you start the game with four randomly rolled dipshit peasants that you then throw into a meatgrinder to get horribly killed. you pick one of the survivors to be your 1st-level character.

maneuvers: fighters roll an extra die with each attack that gets bigger as you level. if it's a 3 or higher, you get to do a cool thing on top of your attack. pretty standard for OSR games, but this game popularized it!

crit tables: fighters also get more crits and nastier crits as they level. every crit, you roll on the crit table. maybe you chop off a dude's arm. maybe you just knock them over. maybe you shatter their shield. it's very cool

spell tables: i don't really like roll-to-cast mechanics, generally. but DCC goes so all-in on roll-to-cast that it still looks fun as hell to watch. you cast a fireball and maybe it goes how you want. or maybe you explode, or you nuke everything in a half-mile radius, or from now on you permanently ignite flammable materials you touch, or whatever. casters just have to put up with turning into a weird mutated mess across a campaign

there's no dungeon crawl rules, no encumbrance - this game is all about the big over-the-top wacky shit, and is not really interested in the more down-to-earth number crunching. it's more in the you-die-hilariously-all-the-time area of OSR than the you-avoid-death-through-clever-play area. not really my thing but the system knows exactly what it wants to be and i respect it

iron halberd

this one is mine! as the author i'm not qualified to tell you what isn't good about my system, so just assume it's worse than i make it sound, but here's a bunch of the selling points

semi-random character creation where you flip back and forth between rolling dice and getting your own input. roll stats, pick ancestry. pick starting gear kit, roll different dice based on which kit you picked. etc etc. stats are random but all equally viable (no rolling incredibly low or high stats). every time i run this game the character creation is a hit. seriously go roll up a character it'll sell you on the whole thing

you start out a lot stronger than a standard OSR character but grow way more slowly. i don't like 4th-level characters being 4 times as strong as 1st-level ones; HP never gets that high. emphasis is more on diegetic progression instead.

way too many subsystems for alchemy, crafting, strongholds, warfare, renown, rituals, likes 9 pages of magic items, a whole subsystem for becoming a cleric mid-campaign. i couldn't help myself i love this shit

in my current campaign we had a player permanently sacrifice some max HP to become a necromancer after deliberating on whether that's a good idea for like thirty seconds, which instantly made me think my necromancy system is a success

also free

Adventure recommendations

(in rough order of size)

Moonhill Garden (by Emiel Boven): look at this. look at it! this is like the best template for a little dungeon in an OSR game. all of the little factions are tied together. this would be a great oneshot to introduce people to an OSR system with.

A gathering of blades (by Ben Milton): a system-neutral, one-page sandbox. i ran this for an iron halberd game and it went super well. lasted like 7 sessions. highly recommend.

The Waking of Willowby Hall (by Ben Milton): a single dungeon with a million things going on. it's super chaotic with half a dozen different factions crashing into each other and a big angry goose. highly recommend, especially for kids

The Black Wyrm of Brandonsford (by Chance Dudinack): small sandbox with a fun fairytale vibe and a very fleshed-out little town. and a big nasty dragon.

Evils of Illmire (by Zack Wolf): this is a very dense, entire campaign's worth of hexcrawl in a very compact package for like $5. it doesn't do anything particularly new, but the value-for-money is absurd and it's a really good template for how to do a sandbox if you're used to 5e adventures

Ask me anything!

if anything here is unclear or intrigues you, send me asks! i love helping people get into OSR games. i'll link frequently asked questions here if i get any.

[scoops-aboy86]

By The Heart (Secret Admirer pt 2)

Steddie Week 2024, July 2: Hands / touch starved / Invisible Touch by Genesis

wc: 2136 / rated: T / set between seasons 2 and 3 / also on ao3

After the world fell apart a second time in November of ‘84, Steve had finished out the rest of his senior year in a daze. Partly because Billy Hargrove had broken a fucking plate over his head, giving him a small scar by his hairline that the doctor said would fade and recurring headaches that the doctor said might stick around anywhere from a few months to forever. 

It’s been more than a few months and the headaches are only slightly less frequent and a tiny bit less severe. 

He graduated, barely. His dad keeps dropping pointed comments about how his parents let him stay in their house rent-free after high school, how he’d saved up while attending a nearby college by not having to worry about the cost of a dorm or basic meals, and that it is his gratitude towards them that has moved him to offer the same to Steve. Usually said comments come after Steve tries to sidestep some sort of menial task, and it always feels like a threat.Steve just grits his teeth and takes it—refills his dad’s drink when the bottle is already literally right by the man’s hand, washes the family car after dinner when both his parents know that Steve has a shift at Scoops first thing in the morning, whatever. He can’t afford to get kicked out right now. 

His job at Scoops Ahoy is shit, all bright fluorescent lights and kids screaming and everything getting sticky for a measly minimum wage, but that probably reflects the quality of the job application he’d submitted. 

He has no friends, no prospects, no one in his corner except a bunch of incoming freshmen and the only one who really seems to want him around is off at some sort of smart people camp that he’d never even heard of… Go figure. 

But he has Secret Admirer. 

Okay, what Steve has is a pen pal who has a PO box and prefers to remain anonymous, possibly because Steve is an embarrassing person to have a crush on these days. And it’s really stupid that he thinks of them as first name Secret, last name Admirer, but it’s not like he hasn’t tried to come up with better names! Unfortunately, there are so many things Secret Admirer has called him (sweetheart, darling, dearest, honey, baby) that he can’t really think of anything original with those constantly rotating in his head… He can’t use them, though. It’d be weird. 

The first letter had been shoved into his locker in the last few weeks of school, looking like someone either wrote it with their non-dominant hand or had also suffered a blow to the head recently, and he hadn’t known what to make of it at first. In fact, he’d considered the possibility that Tommy or Billy were playing some sort of prank on him… but he didn’t think either of them could write “To Steve, the heart of my heart” without bursting into homophobic flames, and if it was Carol she would’ve done her girliest handwriting with hearts dotting the eyes. And his Secret Admirer had mentioned things no one else in his life seemed to care about. 

Like, 

I hope you’re feeling better. Sometimes I notice you squinting or grimacing in the classes we have in common… Are you still getting headaches? Do you get enough rest? You probably already know this, but mental and physical rest are super important for getting your handsome self all recovered, big boy. 

And,

I had a concussion once, not a bad one but it really left an impression. Felt like I was trying to think through a head full of soup for weeks. It sucks that teachers didn’t seem to cut you much slack because, just saying, I noticed they used to do that a lot more when you were still on the basketball and swim teams. Jock privilege placed above consideration of an actual, serious injury? I’m sorry, but that’s the rankest compound of villainous smell that ever offended nostril, sweetheart, and you deserve better. 

So, yeah. Clearly his Secret Admirer is a nerd who doesn’t necessarily have the best opinion of jocks… but still took the time to notice all those things and write kindly about them. It felt nice, knowing that at least one person out there noticed, maybe even cared. 

And when that letter turned out not to be a one-off, a few more letters in his locker and then one in his mailbox, postmarked and everything, after graduation? Steve was hooked, enough to start writing self-consciously back. 

Which has brought him to the point of wanting so badly to meet this person that he’s stooped to begging, and it’s not even getting him anywhere. 

It’s occurred to him that it could be a guy, of course it has. Steve might not be the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he knows it happens. He’d had a friend in middle school, Todd Fischer, nice guy, totally normal kid—got caught kissing some boy in the next grade up behind the gym and turned out to be the worst sprinter of the two. The Fischers had moved out of Hawkins a few weeks later and Steve hadn’t heard anything from or about Todd since. They’d been halfway through reading Romeo & Juliet in English at the time, and Steve remembers thinking when they got to the end of the play that at least things hadn’t gone that badly for Todd and whoever the other kid was. He’s old enough now to know that it could have; between Todd being such a nice kid, Barb dying in his own backyard, and the threat of government agents coming out of the woodwork if he ever breathes a word about certain secrets, the thought leaves a bad taste in Steve’s mouth. 

Anyway, if it is a guy, that would explain why Secret Admirer keeps dancing around his pleas to meet. And the initially disguised handwriting—which had been dropped by the second mailed letter, along with a brief, sheepish apology. 

But it could also be a girl who’s really shy or something. Steve doesn’t want to assume and then look like a total idiot further down the road. Whoever it is, all Steve knows is that he doesn’t want to lose them. He has to play this smart, play it cool… because he knows himself, and already knows that they have him by the heart based on words alone. 

The latest letter is in his hands, crinkled a little at the edges, and Steve can’t help himself from rereading the fifth paragraph yet again. 

… those indecently tiny shorts. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about running my fingers up the inside of those thighs. Or my mouth. Whichever you think you’d like best, baby, I’m not picky. And while I do like ice cream, particularly strawberry with rainbow sprinkles in a cone, I can think of something else I’d love to wrap my hand around and run my tongue over before any drips can escape. You just think about that, hmm? Maybe share some of those thoughts in your reply, if I haven’t scared you off…

He’s not scared off. Doesn’t need to know exactly who put pen to paper to imagine hands and lips running up his legs, either, an invisible touch that sends shivers along his spine. 

Okay, maybe it’s been a while. Between striking out from behind the Scoops counter and not really trying all that hard anyway, the only action Steve’s seen is from his own hand… and this letter. He has thoughts, alright, but has a much better idea of how to translate them into action than words. And this is his problem with the whole pen pal only thing, his natural charm (if he has any left) is absolutely useless in this medium. 

The other problem is that he really, really wants to jerk off about this, except he’s got almost no details to fuel the fantasy. He knows that Secret Admirer had a concussion once, but not what color or length or texture or style their hair is; knows they’re on the fringes of popularity and not really into sports, but nothing about their height or build or how they might move against him. Hell, he doesn’t even know if they’re a girl or a guy, isn’t sure if he should try to imagine boobies and painted nails or stubbled cheeks and big hands. 

Secret Admirer has mentioned being a smoker though, of both tobacco and grass, and Steve is not exactly proud of how strongly this makes him want a cigarette just because it’s all he has to go on. He has work in under an hour and Robin hates the smell of cigarettes, will be extra vicious for their entire shift if he comes in reeking of smoke. 

He’ll have to figure out something else…

Dear Secret Admirer, Thanks for writing again, I was really glad to get your letter. I don’t sleep with them under my pillow because sometimes my pillow ends up on the floor and I don’t want to drool all over them. I keep them in a box in the back of my closet, because sometimes my parents have the cleaning lady do my bedroom without telling me and I don’t want her going through my stuff or putting it in weird places that I can never find again.  Sorry for laughing at you You must not have seen me last week when I threw a banana peel at my coworker for It’s not being humble if I don’t deserve Yeah, fuck high school.  Sorry for not rewriting this, I’m running out of paper and my dad’ll kill me if I break into his office to get more I definitely thought about what you said in your last letter. I thought about it a lot. It’s hard to figure out how to explain what though, because I wanted to picture you like you were probably picturing me when you were writing it. You obviously know what I look like, but I don’t know who you are so I had to get creative. (Which isn’t my strong suit. So if this is stupid maybe we could just never mention it again?) Since I don’t know what you look like and it’d be weird to try and picture you anyway, and then what if I’m not even close and that makes it seem like I don’t like you for who you are? I’m not sure if that makes sense. But anyway, since I don’t know what you look like I pictured you dressed like a ninja.  Hear me out, okay? You’re such a mystery. Ninjas are mysterious, and dressed all black to blend in with the shadows. You can’t see their hair or face and they wear gloves because you can tell a lot about a person by their hands. I guess what I’m saying is I imagined you sneaking into my room at night when the lights are off. Totally silent but with this powerful presence, you know? I think if I were in the same room as you it’d feel like that moment right before the whistle goes off at a swim meet, because that’s just like, holy shit it’s about to happen and your muscles are all tense but ready but you’re waiting, coiled like a snake. So I’m coiled like a snake and you’re still a ninja and I’m not very good at this. I’ve done it over the phone a few times but that’s different. I don’t know where I’m going with this just sitting writing this alone in my room with Genesis playing in the background so I’m going to stop. Just trust me, it was hot. If you ever want to exchange numbers I’d be happy to tell you all about it sometime.  It feels weird to end like that, so I’ll also tell you that I tried reading that Hobbit book you suggested and you were right, it’s a lot easier than the Rings book that the kids I babysit tried to bully me into reading. Bibo is freaking out about all these dwarves in his house and I can relate, it sounds like when those kids all show up and try to rope me into driving them around town. At least they haven’t tried to make me steal anything or try to take on a damn dragon yet. Hopefully this book won’t give them any ideas.  — Steve PS If that was so dumb you changed your mind about still writing to me, please let me down easy. Seriously it would be no hard feelings. At least I still have a great ass and great hair, so I’ve got that going for me.

Tag list (open): @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @tangerinesteve @steviewashere

@cryingglightningg @theresebelivett @sleepy-steve @rozzieroos @lunaraindrop

@just-my-latest-hyperfixation @wheneverfeasible @swimmingbirdrunningrock @yesdangerpls @matchingbatbites

@ihavekidneys @p0lybl4nkk @grtwdsmwhr @cheesedoctor @thetinymm

@practicallybegging @fuzzyduxk @greatwerewolfbeliever

[loudclan-clangen]

Come Over (Again) - Fiercestripe

Thank you guys for being so awesome! As a reward for being so patient with me on my break, here's a PMV and a backstory drop for everybody's mom, Fiercestripe:

Born Flower, she grew up with a group of cats that believed that she-cats shouldn't learn to hunt or fight. This ideology prevented her from running away on her own, and before she knew it she had a mate (Coal) and a kit (Thorn) and was well on her way to living the rest of her life there. It wasn't until a chance encounter with Wildfirecry, having recently left his old clan, that Flower saw a chance at freedom. Wildfirecry stayed with Flower's family for several days, hesitantly telling stories of Starclan and his old home, but he refused to stay long, claiming he had to continue his search for Starclan. Realizing this might be her only chance, Flower left in the night, determined to find him. Upon catching up with him however, Flower was disappointed. He told her to go home, that she would only slow him down or die and she had a kitten to care for. At this, Flower lashed out, she didn't care if it was dangerous, if she might die, at least she would do it away from here. Couldn't he understand that she was giving up everything for this chance? Her only chance? Eventually he relented, comforting the young she-cat and agreeing that she could travel with him, but only until she learned to take care of herself... And the rest is history. Fiercestripe will always feel guilty for leaving her daughter behind, but she doesn't regret it. A kitten, even an older one wouldn't have survived the journey they took, and because of her choice Dogwood and Rosehip were born into a loving family where they can have whatever future they want to have. She only hopes that Thorn found her own way in life, and that she's safe and happy wherever she ended up.

Fiercestripe was 15 moons old when Thorn was born, and 20 moons old when she left with Wildfirecry, so Thorn would be 75 moons old now. (only a few moons older than Siltsplash!)

[If you guys are interested I'll make a part 2 with the rest of the song! (featuring modern day Fierce, Silt, and Owl most likely) I've never made anything in video form before, so this was a really fun experiment! The only way I could wrap my head around a project this big was to make the canvas size really small, so apologies if it's not super high quality. (It's high quality in my heart.) The song is called Come Over (Again) by The Crawlers, it's one of my all time favorites, highly reccomend.]

[morning-star-joy]

lose your faith in me

Pairing: Low Honor!Arthur x One-Sided F!Reader to High Honor!Arthur x F!Reader

Summary: Arthur only changes for the better when everything happens for the worst.

Warnings: Angst. Canon ending. One-sided love that subtly becomes requited in the end. Lots of regret and grief. Low Honor to High Honor progression (or Canon-Typical!Arthur as @joelsversion bec calls him). Sad ending. Low Honor!Arthur is mean but he's still got some of those Medium to High Honor qualities when I write him. References to Reader being kidnapped when Arthur meets/saves her (like the stranger encounter in the game). Canon-typical violence.

Wordcount: 3.6k

A/N: I was possessed with ideas for this in the middle of the night, and for once I wrote them down in my notes app! Super sad fic because I was sad over the pixel cowboy.

dividers by @saradika

masterlist || kofi || updates blog

Arthur could be a kind man if he wanted to be. It just so happened that most of the time, he didn’t want to be.

You’d heard tales of a more compassionate man who lived in the rough-and-tumble outlaw’s skin once upon a time. A time hardened body that held a heart beating with too much love for others. Care that the world threw back in his face. Sensibility that it kicked from him when he was down.

So each time he got back up, more of that sensitive skin fell away. It grew back tougher, littered with scars that told of the cruelty of the passage of time. Life had not been kind to Arthur Morgan, and so he was not kind in return.

He was decent enough to the folks around camp, giving nods and short greetings as he moved from one job to the next. It was that work he did for the gang that spoke to the once generous nature that life hadn’t completely stamped out of him. Work that nearly wore him down to the bone, and he still did it without complaint, even when he was bloody, beaten, broken down.

Or maybe even that was without tenderness of the spirit. Maybe it was a mere habit with which he worked for the gang. A stubborn, undying loyalty that remained even when the love was gone.

Maybe it was just out of trifling obligation when he shot down the monster of a man who had you hogtied on the back of their horse.

Maybe it was out of innate violence that he took one glance at you, battered and bloody with tears streaking down a layer of grime on your cheeks, and then delivered a few more gunshots to your kidnapper’s head until it was an indistinguishable mess of gore, throwing in some well-placed kicks to a long dead body for good measure.

Still, Arthur let you follow him. For miles you trailed after him on the horse that had just before been carrying you to your doom. You kept glancing around you, wondering when you would come out of the wilderness to wherever he was going, until he finally shouted back to you.

“What you followin’ me for, girl?”

You had paused then. Embarrassment gave way to heat in your face, and you held the reins tighter, staring at the back of that worn hat you would grow secretly fond of, eyes tracing the old twine wrapped around the brim. Wondering what story it told, how many more stories were held behind cold blue eyes. How many people he saved, how many more he’d killed.

“Ain’t got nowhere else to go, Mister,” you had replied quietly, and his shoulders, broad and carrying weights both quantifiable and otherwise, stiffened under the battered brown jacket he wore.

“Best find someplace, then.”

He spurred his horse forward again, faster this time. Intending to lose you, maybe.

And when you followed right on his path again, he brought his steed to an abrupt spot, whirling it around to fix you with a glare.

“You deaf, woman?” he snapped, and you winced, though you didn’t cower away from the angry man who had been your savior. “Told you to get lost.”

“I have nowhere to go.” You urged your horse to trot closer now, trying to gain eye contact to better implore him of your predicament. “No one’s waitin’ for me.”

He just shifted the brim of his hat down, covering the top half of his face, and you were stuck staring defeatedly at the edge of a strong nose and lips pressed into a firm, bitter line at your desperation.

What a burden you had been to him from the start.

“Please,” you had whispered, and he turned his head away completely, giving you only the image of a well-armed, dangerous man that wreaked havoc across the states, leaving blood and death and despair in every place he left.

Arthur didn’t say anything else then, not even when you followed him all the way to the first camp you had witnessed of the Van der Linde gang.

Many camps were to follow, as your group of degenerates and ne'er-do-wells could never seem to catch a goddamn break. At least they let you settle into the ranks relatively without fuss. 

But how could they not? When you kept your head down, kept your voice quiet, did your work without complaint.

Even as weeks turned into months, then into years of being there, you were a ghost among them. Nobody really knew where you came from, what you thought and felt. Your cards were kept close to your chest, for all matters except one.

At least if anybody noticed the way your eyes lingered on Arthur Morgan, they didn’t say anything. 

If anybody saw the way you hovered around the gang’s enforcer, like a pitiful lost puppy since the moment he had saved you from a fate worse than death, they didn’t judge you for it. Not to your face.

Time passed, one camp gave way to the next in your group’s ever-searching path to freedom, and you loved Arthur Morgan all the same.

Blackwater was good until it was bad. Colter was worse, cold winds biting into your limbs and keeping you half-numb even halfway out of the mountains and to Horseshoe Overlook.

You liked that camp the best. It had the most life to it, the most times you had seen Arthur smile in the whole time you’d known him, even small, fleeting smirks as they were.

That night when Sean returned may have been the best of your small, inconsequential life. Drinks were flowing, laughter was booming, and there was music every which way, a different song being sung or played around each corner.

And through it all, Arthur was nowhere to be seen.

He was one of the men who saved the boisterous Irishman, and the only one missing from the party. Throughout the night, you kept glancing around for a glimpse of his face, all to no avail.

Eventually, you took up a post near where the horses grazed, waiting with a drink in hand to catch him rolling back into camp.

When even that led to no sight of him, you ambled through the outskirts of the trees, farther from the glow of warm campfires and jovial festivities, searching and searching until…

There.

The moonlight shone off the speckled horse that Arthur had gotten in Valentine weeks before, hidden amongst the trees unless you were as close as you had gotten in your relentless search for the object of your affections. 

When you saw him a bit further on, leaning against a tree and gazing out over the cliffside with a cigarette perched between his lips, your heart leapt in your chest besides yourself.

He didn’t say anything when you emerged from the darkness and settled against a tree next to him. Likely he had heard you crashing through the forest in your half-drunken state, silently declaring you not a threat and, hopefully, not enough of a nuisance either.

Silence fell between you for a few moments. You never seemed to know what to say around him, and he never seemed to want to say anything around you.

Eventually, you settled on the wrong thing. “You did good today, Arthur.”

You could nearly feel the discontent grow at your praise, and you shifted under the weight of it in the air.

“Good?” he repeated the word like you had insulted him, although you had intended the opposite. Perhaps that was why he hated it so—because he hated himself so, couldn’t acknowledge a good deed he did if it hit him on the nose. “I beat a sick man for some money I didn’t even end up gettin’ before I did any good today, girl.”

“Arthur—”

“Our first trip into Valentine, ‘member that?” he interrupts you as if you hadn’t spoken, and you frown into the darkness, watching as he removes the cigarette from his mouth to tap some ash off the end.

“I remember you fightin’ those men off o’ Tilly and Karen—”

“I chased that man who recognized me out of town, right to a cliffside.” Arthur steps forward, the spurs on his worn boots clinking with the slow, deliberate movement. He flicks the burnt down cigarette from his fingers out over the cliff you were both standing next to now. “Just like this one.”

He gestures to it, glancing back at you with the cold words he spoke. The moonlight casts him into shadow, creating a faceless entity out of him, one that you know should terrify you. 

“He was dangling off of it, beggin’ for his life,” Arthur continued in that low, dangerous tone he reserved for intimidating folks, now using it to try and convince you of how wrong you’d always been about him. Even then, there’s a strange contradiction to the rumble of his voice—lack of empathy for what he’s done, and the knowledge of how awful that was in and of itself. “And I let ‘im fall. Figured it was better him than me.”

“Jesus…” you whispered, eyes fixed to the edge of the cliff next to where he stood. You wondered if he just watched the man’s grip loosen, or if those muddy boots had stomped on the tips of the man’s fingers, and you wince at the terrible imagery your mind concocted. 

Arthur had done worse, you know he had. All those times he’d shown up with blood on his clothes, you knew well they weren’t from his own injuries. And still, you’d gladly washed the stains from his shirts during your chores. Relieved it wasn’t his own. 

“Jesus ain’t helpin’ me, not with what I’ve done,” the man muttered with a frigid chill that sent shivers through you with how ominous his words were, how foreboding and imminent it felt. “Not with what we’ve all done.”

It’s quiet again as Arthur stands at the cliffside. You watch him glance over the edge, and yet you’re the one who finds yourself slipping, “We could still get out of here.”

He freezes. You know he knows what you mean, and yet he still asks, “Who’s ‘we’?”

“You and me,” you whisper breathlessly, the alcohol you’d consumed dulling the fear of the rejection you knew was inevitable as everything you kept bottled up comes spilling out. “Save up some money, get a small patch of land somewhere out where they won’t come lookin’. We can raise sheep or—”

“Sheep,” he scoffs. The man won’t even look back at you, won’t even give you the decency of eye contact as he breaks your heart. “Small land still ain’t cheap. And there aren’t many places they ain’t lookin’ nowadays, neither.”

“We can do it, Arthur.” You step closer, your eagerness on plain display in the moonlight, and he finally looks back at you. His face reveals nothing, expression blank as you finally lay all your cards on the table, his own forever in his lonely hands. “You and me.”

“You’re just as bad a dreamer as Dutch.” The words are harsh, bitter even, and it’s not the first time you start to wonder why you love Arthur Morgan. “Hell, you may even be worse.”

You think that’s the end of it then. You hope it is, but he stops next to you as he’s walking away, looks you right in the eye as he spares you no mercy in harshly chastising you, “Get your head outta the clouds, girl. Ain’t nothin’ good, ain’t no honest ending out there waitin’ for the likes of you and me.”

It breaks your heart. 

More than that, it makes you want to prove him wrong.

You never do quite prove him wrong.

Arthur Morgan is dying.

It both shocks and horrifies you, how long it takes the others to notice.

He carried on doing what he always did for the gang, hiding his own decay the best he could. His movements were slower than before, and you’d watch from a distance all the times he’d pause to take as deep a breath as his traitorous lungs could manage when no one was looking.

For a while, you dared to hope it was just a lingering sickness from his time stranded on Guarma. You thought he would shake it off eventually, bounce back healthier and stronger than ever before.

But he lost even more weight instead of putting it back on. His face grew gaunt, pale. Sharp blue eyes became streaked with red, clouded with a weariness that contrasted the strength you’d always come to associate with the man.

Still, things carried on with as much normality as the gang could afford, even with the camp clearing out more and more each day. 

Ghosts lived amongst you now, dead as well as living. Skeletons were buried under every crack and crevice you traversed each day, trying to pretend it would all be okay, like it always had been in the past.

At night, you heard Arthur coughing. 

It was always muffled, like he was smothering the sickness into his pillow, so as to not wake the others. But it became as steady a noise as the faint sounds of wildlife underneath the stars, tearing your soul apart further and further each time.

When you heard a weak gasp following a coughing fit one night, you rose from your bedroll, unable to stay in quiet denial of what was happening any longer. You pattered over to a dying campfire as if possessed, stoking it to life enough to concoct a health tincture to hopefully ease some of the pain he was trying to hide with every fiber of stubborn strength he still had left.

You slipped through the tent flap to see him curled up on his side, coughing and wheezing into his fist next to the dying light in the lantern beside his cot. The sight threatened to ruin you completely, leave you nothing but a husk of your former self in the grief of your sustaining love, but you held it together through sheer will alone as you approached him.

When he saw you, you saw fear. It flashed through his eyes, the blue of them just as pretty as the day you met him, even with the sickness that addled them.

Arthur opened his mouth as blood trickled from the corner of it, no doubt to insist you shouldn't trouble yourself with fretting over him, but you gently hushed him. 

You wiped the blood from his lips with your handkerchief, coaxed him to drink the tincture, taking sips through the coughing fit until it subsided. When it did, the words he finally gained that familiar strength to speak with shocked you.

“You always done right by me,” Arthur wheezed quietly, avoiding your eyes when they snapped to his face at the sentiment you never thought he’d acknowledge. “Don’t know what I did to deserve that.”

It struck you silent then, left you with an emptiness you didn’t know the first thing about filling up again. Knowing that he recognized all the love for him you’d kept locked up inside, until it was bursting from the seams. Knowing that he recognized how cruel he’d been to you, time and time again. 

And how you had loved him just the same.

“You saved me,” you whispered as you tenderly wiped the handkerchief along his blood speckled chin. Your fingers followed the path to skim across those scars where hair could never grow, where it barely grew now.

“Any decent man woulda—”

“Not many decent men, though,” you interrupted him, his eyes finally meeting yours as you spoke, “are there?”

You both fell quiet then, the truth of his nature hanging in the air between you. 

The sicker Arthur had gotten, the more he had changed. Faced with a slow union to his eventual mortality, his own body betraying him as his family fell apart, he had tried to right the wrongs he had done.

You had seen the shift; how it had happened slowly, then all at once. Giving away the money he had fought and killed for to help widows, orphans, or those in misfortune—some of whom he had put there with his own two hands. 

You think that Arthur saw those ghosts that still lingered better than the most of you. You think he loved them more than anybody else. That he fought to avenge them, or maybe give them peace, the best he could still manage to do.

Or maybe he was already one of them.

And still, for him, it wasn’t enough.

“I ain’t one of those, either,” Arthur murmured, denying the gravitational shift in his very own nature, his voice strained with effort from not coughing after you had tried so desperately to heal him. 

Tears blur your vision, choking your throat at his resignation to the cruel strings of fate, the belief that he was nothing more now than rot and regret.

“You’re close enough,” you whispered, meaning every damn word of admiration that you’ve held in your heart for him since the very first day. 

Because he wasn’t good, but he was good enough for you.

When he’s quiet again, his eyes still avoiding yours, you figure it’s time to go. 

You move to get up, and without a sound, his hand catches yours.

Arthur doesn’t let go.

You stay.

As long as you can, you stay.

“Where you goin’?”

Weeks later, more people are dead, or gone, or close to one or the other. You’re packing all of your measly earthly belongings onto one of the extra horses in the dead of night when Arthur approaches you.

“I dunno,” you reply honestly, heart in your throat as you avoid his gaze. You can’t look at him anymore, can’t see him working himself to death for a man who would gladly watch him fall into his own grave, who wouldn’t have the decency to stay long enough to watch him buried. “Somewhere else.”

“What're you plannin' on doin’ when you get there?”

“I don’t know, Arthur.” You finally look at him, afraid to see betrayal in his eyes at your leaving them, leaving him, when all you had ever wanted to do was stay.

But you only see understanding, relief, and genuine concern for if you actually have a plan in getting out. 

“Suppose I’ll become some kind of maid, or a working girl, or—”

“Don’t,” he whispers hoarsely, gaze hardening, and you throw your hands up in the air before grabbing onto your saddlehorn, foot in the stirrup as you hoist yourself up into the seat.

“What choice do I have, Arthur?” You’re defeated when you say it, as is he. As are all of you, doomed to who knew what awful fate was waiting at the end of this road the crazier that Dutch got, and the more that that snake Micah kept whispering into his ear.

What you had never expected was for Arthur to reach down into his satchel and pull out a stack of money. He hardly spends any real time thumbing through it all before handing the whole thing over to you. 

When you don’t take it, he grabs your wrist, and you lose your breath when his thumb tenderly strokes the inside. It’s as if he’s caressing your pulse, gently tracing the steady thrum of life still in your veins, as he turns your hand over and places the cash into your palm.

“You wanted sheep, right?” He’s so gentle with the question he murmurs to you in the still night. So kind to the memory you were sure he’d gladly forgotten.

It’s the final straw that breaks you.

You’re crying now, tears you had held in for so long streaming down your face, because this is the last time you’ll see him. You know it, he knows it, and there’s no goddamn thing left that you can do.

Still, you whisper that old, forgotten dream he had once chastised you for, “I wanted it with you.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Arthur rasps, a cough caught in his lungs that he fights back. His eyes are so tired, and yet they still hold your gaze so readily. There’s regret there, so much of it, and you wonder if he’s ever thought of that old pipe dream of yours, if it ever once was one of his. “I know. Get outta here, now.”

When you don’t move an inch, his voice takes on an urgency, harsh and desperate in its rasp, “Go, girl, ‘fore it’s too late.” And then he adds more words, quieter, but just as pleading, if not more gentle in their earnestness, “Couldn’t stand it if they got to you too.”

“Come find me?” The question slips from the tightness in your throat, from the depths of your heart, fruitless as your wanting is, as it has ever been. “There’ll be a place for you with me.”

The way Arthur looks at you then—the grief, the yearning—you dare to dream sometimes, years later, that maybe some small part of him loved you after all. 

Or at least the idea of you, of what could’ve been, towards the end.

“If there’s air left in my lungs by the time this is all done,” he wheezes with the words, a dreadfully poetic thing, “I'll go to you.”

He’s the one who spurs your horse off then with a gentle smack to its hide then, and you’re the one who looks back.

You weren’t a fool, much as he once believed you were.

You knew that Arthur Morgan would never have enough breaths left to crawl to you, in the end.

You could only hope he got that sunset.

[webslingingslasher]

omg what if Peter gets trouble a gift for x-mas BUT trouble didn't bother with a gift for him bc she thought that he wouldn't care about her enough to get her a gift

'what's that?'

'oh!' peter holds out the package, when you stare at the printed santa wrapping paper, he nudges it a little. 'it's for you.'

your entire stomach dropped, you knew you should've gotten him something. you were so convinced it would be stupid, but now you're eating your words.

'c'mon, trouble. what, never got a gift before?' it's fine, you could play it off. you hesitantly reach out for the box, it's even got a bow on top.

'no! i just... haven't gotten yours in the mail yet.' it's fine, you could figure something out. you had two days before he left for home.

'you didn't have to get me anything, trouble.' you peer at the gift, 'ditto, parker.' peter waves you off, 'just open it, c'mon!' you hide your guilt with a smile.

gently tearing the paper, you're met with a gift box. it has a reindeer and a penguin hugging, you peek up at peter, he's itching for you to see what's inside. 'open it, open it!'

handing off the scraps of paper, peter crushes it into a ball, keeping an eye on your face. the gift is revealed, a gray hoodie, with a spider-man mask emblem on the left top corner.

your heart expands three sizes, your thumb runs over the raised embroidering, it's high quality. 'isn't it awesome? i saw it when i was shopping for may like, three weeks ago. i just had to get it for you.' he's so excited, he was proud to know he found something he knows you'd love. and you got him nothing in return.

'okay, okay, put it on! cause there's kind of a part two of the gift.' you feel terrible, it's hard to push back the love for the clothing over the overwhelming hurt you have over getting him nothing. you knew you shouldn’t have talked yourself out of it.

you didn't want to be in peter's spot. something to give and then receive nothing in return. a subtle hint that one cares more about the other.

your silence has peter tone down his excitement, maybe he was a little off with his gift. 'do you not like it? i can return it and you can pick... no! why are you crying? is it that bad?'

you shake your head, using the back of your hand to wipe a stray tear. 'oh, whew! for a second i thought you hated it, but nope, peter picked good. so good you're speechless and crying, look at me go.'

proud. boastful. meanwhile you're solemn and glum.

'seriously, trouble. put it on!' it's the absolute least you could do, he already went miles ahead of you. the cardboard falls to the floor when you pull the fabric up, it's a bigger size than you'd normally wear. 'that's part two. i got it a little bigger so i could wear it and get my scent on it for you.'

your heart’s about to burst open, it's fleece lined and ultra soft over your skin. 'i wore it when you weren't around, so it should smell like me.' you bring a sleeve to your nose, it does. it smells like a giant peter hug. his hands pulled the hoodie over your head, a dopey smile took over his face.

'super cute. it's your superpower.'

with that, you fall into his chest with a sob. it's not a good one either, arms wrap tight around you, his cheek resting on your head mashes the cotton further down. 'i lied!' you clutch his shirt, shame spills out.

'about what? that you like it?' your head thrashes, he couldn't be more wrong. it was your most favorite possession now that it's been added to your collection.

'i didn't get you anything!' you pull him tighter to you, terrified he’d push you away and tell you he hates you. 'i'm so sorry,' you breathe in and out deeply. 'i was going to but then i didn't think you would get me anything and that's not the point of christmas but i didn't want to make you feel weird and, and,'

'i made you feel weird?' it's not the right word. 'no! i just...' peter pushes you back, his hands cup your face to force you to look at him. 'made you feel bad?' you nod, he guessed correctly.

'i meant it, trouble. you don't have to get me anything, i just saw it and thought of you. it's not a big deal, i promise.' that made you feel worse and he can see it.

'stop it, stop. you heard me, right? i got that weeks ago. christmas was just an opportunity give it to you, but if it was april or june or whatever the fuck month, i still would've bought it.' featherlight kisses to both cheeks. 'it’s a just because gift, christmas was just an excuse to give it to you, okay? you've gotten me plenty of those before, i don't need one now.'

'i'm so sorry, peter. i promise i'm gonna get you something, i mean, it won't be a christmas gift because you're going home and i won't be able to give to you until you get back so then it just becomes-'

peter grins, like he's thinking quicker than you are. 'a just because gift? like the one you're wearing?' you were the one that fucked him over, yet he's the one making you feel better. it still works.

'yeah. i think so. but, it will have christmas wrapping paper.' a stoic nod, 'of course. i mean, that's the only stuff i had in the house. it's not like i chose that pattern on purpose.' (he did. but he'd die before he admitted that to you.)

you look down at your new hoodie, you love it. your hands run down the front, it's so, so soft. you look back up, peter loves that you love it. 'not a christmas gift?' peter shakes his head, 'psh. of course not.'

your words lower, you reach up on tippy toes for a kiss. 'just because?' hands on your hips as peter leans in has your stomach fluttering, it's been a minute since he's kissed you so soft and slow. 'just because.' 

[notjustjavierpena]

Oops, I accidentally sent the request before actually typing it, lol

Here we go again:

The family is away for summer vacation and reader bumps into an old high school boyfriend of hers at the beach while Javi is playing with the kids (making an adorable mess with sand castles), and he sees it at some distance and get super jealous about it, but only get to talk to her about it after dinner when the kids are asleep in their hotel room. Idk, something about that with obviously make up sex for reader to show him how much she’s all his and etc

Random thoughts, I know, but I’m sure you’ll be able to work magic with this

Sand

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Hi hi hi, and so sorry for the wait. I hope this fulfils your heart’s desires, my friend. Thank you for following my work ❤️

Summary: You bump into your high school sweetheart on holiday and Javier is not a fan.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, jealousy, javi is whipped for reader, dirty talk, piv sex, rough sex, bit of roleplay, creampie, use of papi, possessiveness, aren’t they just the cutest?

Word count: 3.1k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51262198

Sand

Children’s laughter travels through the air to meet your ears along with the sound of a soft summer breeze, making you put down the book that you’ve been holding in your hands. It’s impossibly sunny hence why you’ve decided to hold up the book, shielding its pages from the rays, and the skin of your back glistens with sweat. There are seagulls in the air, busy noises from families around you, and the therapeutic push and pull of the waves.

Beside you, you have a glass of strawberry lemonade and in front of you, you have a view of your husband enthusiastically digging moats around the various sandcastles that have been scattered across your chosen spot on the beach. You feel refreshed and relaxed; just how you’re supposed to feel on your vacation during the hottest days of summer. 

It had been Javier’s idea to go away for a week to your hometown. You are thankful for his suggestion because you would never have voiced your wish for a break out loud yet he had sensed it despite your silence. 

You’ve visited your parents, yes, but the majority of days have been spent on the beach where you’ve gotten some quality time with yourself. Javier has managed to tire out both of your kids with endless activities, and the evenings have been filled with long, slow kisses on the hotel room balcony. You have hoped for more but a shared hotel room means that you will have to keep everything PG-13.

“Look, Mommy!” 

Your thoughts are interrupted by Inés’ excited shout. She has placed seashells on the biggest of the sandcastles’ walls, making them imitate grand windows. 

“They’re beautiful, baby,” you praise adoringly. 

Lucas is by the shore with a bucket, filling it with water for the moats. He beams at you when he returns, and you smile right back at your beautiful boy. 

“Remind Papá to take a picture of you when you’re finished,” you say loudly for Javier to hear as well. He looks back at you, grinning with genuine joy and happiness but you’re too busy staring at his happy trail just above the hem of his bathing shorts. He notices.

“What’re you looking at?” He winks.

“Nothing,” you say back and shoo him, holding up your book for show, “Go keep an eye on your offspring, Dad. I’m very busy.”

The day continues. You manage to go through a few more chapters, occasionally watching Javier over the top of your book as he is enjoying himself. 

And then it is late afternoon but the sun is nowhere near descending yet. You are interrupted in your reading by a shadow above you, and you don’t manage to catch yourself as you automatically tell Javier off, “Honey. You’re standing right in front of the great big reading lamp in the sky.”

The shadow laughs and then you realize it isn’t your husband. You look up to stare at a familiar face anyhow, and your face grows hot. With quick motions, you put your book down and push yourself to stand.

“Jonathan!” You exclaim in what you hope is a calm and collected voice. You know it is a possibility, being in your hometown, that you run into your high school ex-boyfriend but it still catches you off guard. 

“You mean ‘honey’ right?” Jonathan jokes. You laugh politely and awkwardly, and despite the ring on his finger, Jonathan doesn’t seem to back down. He hugs you, splaying his large palm on your back - right under where your bikini top sits. 

Afterward, he gives you a once over with his eyes, and out of the corner of your eye, you spot Javier glancing in your direction. 

“God, you look well,” Jonathan continues, “Still in Laredo?”

“Still in Laredo,” you confirm, curling your toes into the warm sand. Jonathan looks almost exactly the same; blond, wide-eyed, and pale. He still sports a t-shirt with a print of a ‘70s band logo on the front that you remember him buying when it was cool. 

You realize that you haven’t done anything to make conversation, quickly adding, “And you? You haven’t aged a day.”

“Never escaped, teachin’ at our old school,” he shrugs. He eyes Inés and Lucas but only briefly, turning back to you when he realizes that you are here with a man too. Javier is throwing daggers his way but for once, he has no intention of interrupting which is fair since he would have to leave his children unattended for the time it took to play macho. 

“Course you are,” you smile genuinely. It suits him perfectly to be one of the people who keep the cycle of the quiet town alive, even if it is by simply replacing your old teachers, “And the ring? I couldn’t help but notice that we’re both married.”

Jonathan tells you briefly about his wife and kids. You don’t actually care, but he lights up as he speaks about his two daughters and that’s the most important thing in this whole conversation. He has a dreamy look in his eyes as he finishes, “And to think we thought it would be us.”

By instinct, you reach out to touch his arm and then you giggle softly because the image of the two of you getting old together is absurd. You have everything you need in Javier Peña… Who is fuming without you noticing.

You hug Jonathan goodbye and the rest of the afternoon is suspiciously quiet. 

*

Inés and Lucas fall asleep quickly, exhausted from the amount of fresh air they’ve breathed in today. Outside the sky is turning rose-colored from the evening catching up on you; the sunset will be long and beautiful. But you don’t want beauty with how much tension is between the two of you. 

You are brushing your teeth side-by-side in the hotel bathroom. It’s been a tight-lipped dinner. You honestly just want to go to sleep so you can start over tomorrow. 

Javier finishes brushing his teeth first. He waits for you, looking like someone who is contemplating whether to say something or not.

You finish brushing your own teeth just as he finally makes a decision, off-handedly throwing a remark at you.

“You sure were friendly with Jonathan earlier,” he says simply.

You let out a long sigh, stepping away from the sink after putting away your toothbrush, “Jesus, Javi, I knew this would happen.”

“What?” He leans against the sink.

“You don’t have to act like a fucking… I don’t know. It is every damn time a guy even looks at me - and it’s just not very attractive,” you are exhausted. 

“Excuse me for liking you to myself,” he looks away, “I like having you alone.”

You decide on something at that moment. 

“You already have me. Don’t you know?” You ask in a voice close to a purr. Javier raises a brow in annoyance, but you don’t give in to a fight so easily. Instead, you go to close and lock the bathroom door.

“Know what?” He asks impatiently.

“That you’re the only one?” You watch him standing against the sink counter. He doesn’t look as annoyed after those words but he still isn’t overly impressed with your actions earlier. There’s no way that he doesn’t know what clicking the lock means though. If only he knew the power you have over him, the power that you’re soon to make a display of. 

You cross the room to stand in front of him. You tilt your chin upwards to look up at his face but his eyes stray from yours the second you catch them. He can get so pissy sometimes, a part of the game, but you’ll take the challenge especially when you haven’t had his cock inside of you for a week. At this point, your core aches for him. 

Gently, you put two fingers under his chin and pull it down towards his chest so he is forced to look at you. Your smile is sweet as honey, “Thoughts of you keep me up all night sometimes. Hot and bothered, legs barely knowing what to do.”

There’s a pause where you can only hear his breathing matching yours. His pupils have blown wider, signaling desire for you. 

“What do you think of?” He finally gives in. 

“I think about all the ways you turn me on,” you tap his chin but then let your hand go down. It skims down his bare chest and over each ripple of muscle that quivers with each touch. 

“Yeah?” He murmurs. His eyes flick down between the two of you for less than a second when your hand hovers over his happy trail. The second you catch him doing it, your own eyes follow suit. It’s too hot to wear his usual pajama bottoms, so it’s so easy to spot that he is hard already, showing off the outline of his dick in his gray briefs. There’s a stain of precome. 

“Yeah, baby,” you don’t even hesitate, reaching down to palm the length of him. His breath hitches in his throat the second he is touched, and your voice lowers to a whisper, “All I do is fantasize about you. The way you kiss, the way you touch me, and mmm, the way you fuck me.”

“Mhm,” he hums softly in the way men do when they don’t really know what to say during their current state of mind. You have him scatterbrained with your touch, a moan falling from his lips and replacing the hum when you snake your hand into his underwear, wrapping your fingers around his cock to stroke him lazily. 

“You like this?” You ask but don’t give him time to answer since you tighten your fist around his girth. He forces a nod and you lean up to kiss his lips teasingly soft, “You really think I would ever touch another man like this? There’s no way. No comparison to how you look when I do it.”

“Go on and I might forgive the eyes you were sending him,” he tells you with a hint of edge in his voice. He sounds more desperate than confident, more wanting than he might want to let on. It fills you with self-satisfaction because you know that what you are saying about him goes for you too; you’ve ruined everyone else for each other. 

“I told you I was doing no such thing,” you reply. He pulses in your hand, precome sliding down over your knuckles when you make your fist a tighter fit, reminding him of what waits between your legs. You go a little faster, and Javier’s breathing speeds up. 

“Liar,” he challenges raggedly. 

“As if he could ever make me come as hard as you,” you egg him on, patiently waiting for him to lose control with you, “There’s only you, Papí.”

That seems to do something. Javier yanks your hand away, and you know the strength behind the action because he breathes the same way that he breathes when teetering on the edge of release. He has stopped himself but it’s only to enter your personal space more than you even thought possible.

He grabs at your hips almost violently, steers you backwards a few paces so he can flip the positions. Now, you are the one against the sink counter and it gnaws painfully into the small of your back. There’s an air of consideration for a moment as he checks in on you during the beginning of what can be regarded as playing with each other. You give him a dirty look, a small nod and he smirks back.

“Javi,” you mumble in fake confusion, reaching up to put your hands on his chest but you don’t get to do much because one of Javier’s hands comes up to catch one wrist after the other. It’s so easy for him to do, both because of his job and his physical superiority. 

He twists your hands behind your back and roughly shoves you down over the sink. He lowers his voice as he speaks, “You’re not gonna wake up anyone, are we clear?” 

“We’re clear,” you promise, finding his eyes in the mirror. If he touches you now, he’ll find you wetter than you have been in a long while. What is it about holidays and hotel rooms? Mixed with not having been able to touch each other since you have arrived here, it is a dangerous combination. 

“Te deseo mucho, amor,” he says softly and out of character. 

“I love you,” you reply. 

He dives back into the scenario. His other hand tugs at your cotton shorts, dragging them over the curve of your ass and down your long legs. You step out of them as soon as they lay around your feet. 

“I’m gonna let go,” he says and shakes your hands in his grip to indicate what he is talking about, “But only so you can cover your mouth for me and I can get out of these fucking underpants.”

He does as he said he would. You move to prop yourself up on your elbows, neck already having strained from the mere moments you’ve had to feel the cold porcelain against your chest.

Behind you, there’s shuffling. You cover your mouth as he enters you swiftly, jerking forward at the intrusion that has you panting damply into your palm. He fills you to the brim, stretches your cunt as only he can, and then he fucks you - hard, rough, and fast.

Your head spins, your knees bang against the cabinet’s front, and you try to strain the muscles in your legs so they don’t. He knows the ticking bomb that is your children sleeping soundly in the room next door, but he cannot help himself as he drives into you. He leans over you. 

“No one but me,” he growls lowly, “This little cunt belongs to no one else. She gets red and puffy for me, no? Filled up with only my come.”

“Sí,” you practically sing out but then quickly cover your mouth. He gets rougher with you then, each snap of his hips a reminder of how only he can make you feel like this. He is getting exactly what he wants, and he has you a moaning mess soon after. 

Your first orgasm tears through you after a rough pounding of your g-spot, sending shockwaves down your spine to burn at the base and throwing your upper body forward with such a force that you nearly lose touch with the floor, standing only on your toes as you clamp rhythmically down on Javier’s cock.

“That’s it,” he praises quietly, not relenting, “You can do one more, can’t you? Gotta remind you who makes you feel this good.” 

You nod through sobs. More, more, more.

Suddenly, he leaves you empty. The feeling has you on edge, makes you look at him over your shoulder because gaining eye contact in the mirror is somehow not good enough for the look of betrayal you want to give him. He takes a step back from you whilst panting frantically, gesturing to you by drawing a circle in the air, “Turn around.”

You straighten without thinking and flip around, so you are positioned as you were at the beginning of this. He seizes your hips, hands going down your thighs to grab at them and lift you up onto the edge of the counter. 

Your hand clasps around the back of his neck. He lifts your legs up to settle them around his waist, and then he guides himself back into you and continues fucking you with a force that has you lifting your free hand up behind you to brace yourself against the mirror. 

“Javi,” you whimper repeatedly, clutching at the curls at the base of his skull. He had wanted to cut it before summer came, but you are so glad that he did not. 

“Shh,” he soothes your growing cries and you know that he’ll make you come again soon, “Be quiet for me, baby.”

You don’t think he is quiet enough himself to demand such a thing from you. His stamina has always impressed you, but it’s the sound of his breaths that tears your own from your chest. Alongside the hungry eyes that bore into you, you don’t think that it’ll take long for this to reach its peak for both of you.

“I can’t,” you stutter a little more high-pitched than you intended.

“You have to,” he says with a hint of sternness but he cannot keep it up. Especially not, when he has to take the consequences of reaching down between your legs to thumb at your clit. 

You come so fast that you don’t even have time to warn him, and you cry. So loudly that he needs to kiss you to swallow the sound of you reaching your second, over-sensitive high. 

You throw your arms around him as he chases his own peak, whimpering at the hard thrusts he is giving you to reach his end. You hear him let out a drawn-out fuuuck as he spills inside of you. He pulses, settling deep inside you. He kisses you lazily. 

Everything goes quiet except for your shared breathing. You want to say something to finish the argument that almost never took place but a knock is heard on the locked bathroom door.

You freeze. Javier pulls out of you. The bathroom counter is a mess. 

“Mommy?” Inés’ little voice sounds anxious. You figure that it’s far from nice to find your parents’ bed empty on holiday.

“Just a second,” you say with a weak voice. 

“We’ll be right there, mí vida,” Javier says as well.

“What are you doing? Why is Mommy crying?” You hear her ask and Javier’s face twists in surprise for a moment before he starts laughing, burying his head in your neck as he holds you close. You slap his shoulder. 

“I’m not crying, baby,” you reassure. With a glare that’s anything but actually angry, you push Javier away from you to get cleaned up. 

“I have to pee,” Inés continues with a hesitant tone to her voice. 

Javier kisses you one last time, and you draw it out for a few more seconds than you have time for. It’s still romantic despite you holding a hotel towel between your legs. 

“One moment, mija,” Javier says and gets dressed in his briefs. He waits for you to dress too.

When you walk towards the door, he smacks your ass and you whip around to slap his hand away. There’s a grin on your face though, “Dog.”

“Go to bed, I’ll take her,” he just says.

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[slavonicrhapsody]

PLEASE bless us with more Rykard thoughts. What do you think his relationship with Tanith is like? You think he’d be a good husband

yeah yeah Rykard is super evil. but I think that his love for Tanith is genuinely one of his best qualities :,)

he offers her the tonic of forgetfulness so she can leave and forget about him painlessly rather than be drawn into his violent campaign… you could argue that pursuing his plans with or without Tanith is prioritizing his ambitions over her, but at the same time him offering her the tonic is probably the most unselfish thing he’s ever done because it proves that he genuinely does have her best interests at heart and felt guilty that she might be put in danger because of his actions.

also I’ve said this before but I think it says a lot about Rykard that his consort is a foreign commoner. the Lands Between’s nobility seems to be super classist based on how Kenneth Haight acts, so Rykard’s actions show that the conventions of nobility mean nothing to him. I bet Rykard saw his marriage to Tanith as like a challenge to high society… his opposition to the “suffocating” Golden Order is all about personal strength and autonomy, so he’d definitely question the idea that the Order gets to decide who has worth in society and who should marry who, and he’d also chafe at the idea that the Order expects him to behave in a certain way. well guess what my consort is a dancer from a foreign land. because I say so. who’s gonna stop me. I’d imagine that Rykard would’ve flaunted their relationship in that way, but he’d also fiercely defend Tanith from other nobility who might imply that shes less worthy. he’s always trusted her to stand on her own… she runs the entire manor in his stead after his transformation. I think what they have in common is a desire to achieve and become something more — I can imagine that each of them would hold a lot of resentment towards their position in life, and would gain mutual catharsis from breaking those conventions. which is why they end up running their own cult lol

basically their relationship is genuinely mutually loving but they enable and encourage each other to become their worst selves. but who cares about healthy relationships I love evil love <3

[imrllytootiredforthis]

An Undeserved Punishment

pairing: hyunjin x reader

warnings: dom reader, sub hyunjin, dumbification (kinda?), objectification (again, kinda?), oral sex (both the reader and jinnie receiving, the reader's gender isn't specified at all), jinnie's called puppy a few times, jealousy,

wc: 5k

a/n: this was literally one of the first fics that i ever wrote that i found half-done in my drafts, kinda rewrote, kinda just finished it-do with that information what you will~

It’s been a little under a week since Hyunjin has last cum.

A little under a week because of loads of things.

Because you’ve been busy with work. Because he’s been busy with work. Because neither of you have just had time and whenever you did, it seemed that you were never really in the right mood: wanting to spend quality time with him and cuddle and coddle him-with clothes on.

And he supposed he could respect that.

But only because he loved you.

He hadn’t cum in a few weeks because of those things. Normal things, y’know?

Oh, and there was also one more tiny little reason, that wasn’t all that important. Because Hyunjin had apologized and felt bad and grovelled, and well, he still got a punishment out of it-but it wasn’t a huge deal.

No, of course not.

It had a little to do with a few things. Y’know, tons of things, loads of things he could barely control, that honestly didn’t deserve this kind of punishment. 

Y'know, you were in a bad mood when you gave him this sort of punishment because now you’d surely be level-headed enough to realize that really, he didn’t deserve this.

Surely, you’d been more angry than normal because you were pent up too, after not getting to ruin your pretty little good boy after so long, or maybe it was that asshole at work that you’d complained about a few times, or maybe you were just stressed.

Or maybe it was because of you, a small voice in his head that sounded eerily similar to you reminded him, of exactly what he did to get in his situation.

How you’d invited him to an important work event, with a bunch of important executives and other people, it was all a snooze, really. 

Boring old people that could drop a thousand dollar bill on the floor and not be bothered to pick it up; rich assholes with sticks up their asses and snotty looks on their faces, somehow thinking that they deserved to look you up and down like you were a piece of meat and not someone with a heart and feelings and a high enough position that could probably fire them.

There was also your stupid boss that kept pulling you away from Hyunjin, glaring at him as if he were the dirt under his ridiculously expensive shoes.

All in all, Hyunjin had millions of reasons to act out.

But you’d told him to behave, to be respectful because your boss was there and a few other higher ups that weren’t very many but could essentially could ruin your whole career and that were all easily offended enough to do it with the slightest thing not to their standard.

And yes, of course he cared about all of those things-of course he did, how could he not? Your career was greatly important to you. And if something was important to you, it was absolutely important to him.

But…wasn’t he important to you too?

Your sweet, pretty, perfect boy? Your Jinnie?

Wasn’t he important to you?

Because on that very day, when he was getting out of the shower-the one that he was taking for your very super special job event, you’d teased him and by doing that-I mean, you were just asking for him to act out at this thing.

He’d come out of the bathroom, steam rising out of the doorframe, a towel hanging haphazardly and low on his hips, you seemingly couldn’t control yourself.

So really, who’s fault was it really?

Your's Hyunjin, that annoying little voice reminded him once again.

You’d eyed him up and down, nearly drooling at the sight of him, hands aching to touch him; after all-it had been so long, hadn’t it? 

How were you supposed to keep your hands off him?

When he came out of that bathroom looking so very, very sexy? Water dripping from his hair and down his lithe body. His smooth skin just begging to be marked and claimed by you and that damn towel. 

Jesus Christ, that towel.

Really, how were you supposed resist?

And he certainly wasn’t complaining as he was shoved down onto your bed, your tongue already down his throat, hands already pushing away that towel by the time his body hit the mattress.

You heard no protests.

Not a single peep, only muffled groans and needy whines between kisses, egging you on further to run your hands all over his body, relishing in the way he shivered and moaned so wantonly, so desperately.

You’d kissed him breathless, kissed him raw and deep and hard, like you were starved and he was salvation. 

You kissed him until his breath ran out and yours did too and he began to feel lightheaded.

His lungs screamed for air as he panted, trying to catch up with his thrumming heart until he jolted at the feel of your lips on his chest.

“Lay back baby, let me take care of you,” was all you said, trailing lower and lower down his abdomen, tracing a trail of water that had made its way all the way down. 

Lower and lower still, licking over his v-line, smirking as his hands came to grasp at your hair-not controlling-you’d never allow that but simply resting against your scalp.

He’d whimpered and writhed, begged for more-for anything more as you swirled your tongue around his tip, hand pumping along the base of his dick.

“Such a needy little thing for me, aren’t you, baby?”

Yes, he wanted to scream. Yes, for you. 

His tongue numb in his mouth, his hands frozen and tense, trying their very best not to shove his cock down your throat.

You’d looked up at him with such a tantalizing look in your eye, promising pleasure or pain or a little bit of both that he would gladly welcome in return for your touch.

Your smile was sly as you took him into your mouth again and again, pulling off right as he was on the brink, driving him certifiably and definitely, maddeningly insane.

“Aww, you’re so cute. So adorable when you’re all dumb for me.”

As per your words, he’d nodded dumbly, how could he not? Because really, in the end, that’s all he was. All he wanted to be. Only a little thing that got so hot and bother by being dumbed down to little more than a mindless toy for you.

Only a slave to the pleasure. An obedient little dog to the commands, chasing and performing and granting every order and whisper for the chance at a treat.

While his hands twitched in your hair, while his dick throbbed in your mouth, while only an endless stream on moans and pleads fell from his mouth.

“So close, p-please, ah! So-so fucking cl-close.”

“Don-don’t stop, pl-please don’t stop, nngh!”

And what had you done?

Stopped.

“W-why?” 

You’d only smiled, so sweetly, so cruelly, crooning about how cute he was all blushy and red. 

Then you’d gotten up and patted his bare chest, thumb swiping over his nipple too teasingly, lingering for a touch too long for it to be anything but purposeful.

He whimpered, trying to push up into your touch, maybe entice you to stay for just a little bit longer…just enough longer for him to cum and you to cum and perhaps a quick round two?

You hadn’t risen to the bait though, in fact, his neediness just seemed to make you more eager to deny him.

Reaching down and grabbing the towel that you had thrown there, picking it up and tossing it over his chest before crossing the room, feeling his gaze on your back all the while.

He pouted as you had found your place back at your vanity, assessing yourself in the mirror like you hadn’t almost just made him come in your mouth.

“We’re leaving in a half hour Jinnie,” Your eyes had trailed over his bare body in the mirror, eyes darkening for a moment as you practically devoured every inch of skin before just as quickly looking away, messing with your hair a little, making sure every strand misplaced in your endeavour had been fixed back into place. “So I suggest that you start getting ready.”

Hyunjin was hard and needy still throbbing for your touch, certainly less than excited to go to this event. Less than excited to have to tolerate a bunch of egotistical assholes that acted as if they were better than him.

“But-“

“-Hyunjin.” The bratty whine in his tone hardened the last of the lust that was in your eyes, leaving behind a kind of sterness that only made him twitch and bite back the moan ready on his lips. 

“Get ready.” You’d turned and walked back over to him, allowing him the last of your kindness with a gentle touch to his face, cupping his cheek and kissing his forehead. “And be a good boy tonight.” You moved on just as quickly, passing him on to go into the bathroom. “Be a good boy and perhaps I’ll give you a treat tonight, okay baby?”

—-

In some world, your words, your promise might’ve been enough for him to adhere to what you told him to do. To be a good boy.

In some world knowing that if he was good, you’d reward him for it later on. Just a little puppy eager at the chance-oh it was almost enough for him to listen. For him to behave.

But he can’t help it. Can’t help the want pooling deep in his tummy, the need to let you have your way with him just as you were doing before. He didn’t care at this point anymore. 

You could edge him for hours, overstimulate him to tears, tie him up and tell him what a bad mutt he was. As long as you’d look at him with that dark predatory look in your eye, as long as you’d coo at him as if he were nothing more than a dumb puppy.

Anything at this point could satiate him.

And he had a growing problem underneath his fancy dress pants, steadily making things such as even sitting here even harder.

“Hyunjin.”

You voice snapped him out of it, looking up and out the window of the car to see that you were there. 

Already? So soon?

His eyes flickered to the time, seeing that you were fairly early, technically speaking, you didn’t have to be there for at least another half hour before you’d be seen as tardy.

“Ca-“

“Nope.” You cut him off before he could even finish the word, seeming to somehow read his mind.

“Bu-“

“Hyunjin. I said no.” Your voice was stern as you assessed your reflection in the mirror one last time, leaving any possibility until after the party only a fantasy he’d replay over and over to keep him sane throughout the night.

One of the things Hyunjin has always loved about you was how you were able to keep up with him, even maybe surpass him with your sexual desires, able to take everything he gave in stride and give some of your own as well.

Most often you were open to anything he wanted to do, seeing most things as ‘you only live once, might as well make the most of it.’ And you’d never before had any issues doing anything risky regarding the publicity of the act but he could tell you were serious this time.

If only you putting your foot down, talking to him in such a steely manner didn’t make him twitch in his pants.

“Okay.” You finally pushed your hair back, looking to him. “You ready?”

—-

No.

He wasn't ready.

He was anything but ready to be here. Around these people, shifting uncomfortably under the heavy weight of their judging gazes.

They all thought they were better than him, he knew. It was impossible not to know. Impossible to ignore with way they scrutinized him and looked him over, over his expensive clothes he bought with your money-with their boss’s money.

Hyunjin knew they were criticizing him, the way his posture was slightly slouched, the way his hair was windswept and messy because he’d decided to stick his head out the car window on the way over, wanting to feel the cool air glide over his face.

He hated this place. Hated these people.

Hated whatever image of him they had in their mind and wished that they would look at him as if he were actually a person or at least not look at him at all.

But this was for you. For the job that you loved, that you’d tell him about at the end of the day with a spark in your eye, for the pride at the work that you did. 

It was important to you. And if it was important to you, then it was important to him.

Even if he did want to rip his hair out of his own skull just to give himself some kind of sensation other than the intruding kind of eyes on him. At least you were here with him. 

He clung to you like his only lifeline in this place, his arm threaded through yours, your gentle words pointing out the most important people here, the people you needed to impress and the ones it would be best for both of you to avoid tonight. The ones that would try to make a scene and the ones that would rather not waste their precious breath.

To be honest, he wasn’t listening much to the exact words but your voice comforted him beyond belief, gave him some relief in this kind of personal hell he seemed to be trapped in.

It was him and you. You and him. Facing this together.

Until it wasn’t.

Until you were being swept away by your boss, making it very clear with the way he directly asked you, not even looking in his direction as he wondered if he could ‘borrow you for a second?’ like Hyunjin or you for that matter really had a say in the matter.

And quickly, he was left alone. 

Alone with the weight of the stares on his back, the whispers that he heard hushed whenever he turned his head. 

Really-what did you expect him to do? 

It wasn’t his fault that you’d left him all alone in this place.

Hyunjin walked over to the bar, pulling out his phone to send you a quick text on where he was before ordering something ‘strong’.

Every few minutes he’d check the time, waiting for you to come back to him. Waiting for a time that it would be appropriate to leave an event like this. 

He was a few drinks in, a bit tipsy, nothing more, when someone finally approached him.

Arms wrapped around his shoulders, warm breath pressed close against his skin.

“Hey there,”

He stiffened, a kind of wrongness filling him with unease.

Not you.

“H-hey?”

He turned to see a woman holding onto him, clinging to his shoulders, very obviously drunk.

She pulled away and slunk onto the stool next to him, eyes travelling the length of his body.

“Don’t think I’ve seen you around here before, what’s your name?”

Drunken confidence or perhaps she was some other rich socialite that normally acted like this, she let a finger run slowly from his bicep to his wrist, smiling in a way that seemed to be seductive but only made that anxious knot inside of him tighten.

“Hyunjin-I, um, I’m here with-“

She shushed him, calling the bartender for another drink before turning back to him. “I don’t really care who you’re here with pretty boy.”

Her voice was slurred, her body slightly swaying as she fell into his chest, making him nearly jump out of his seat.

She was warm against him-abnormally warm like she was a living furnace. She smelled like alcohol and strong artificial perfume, making his head spin in the worst way.

From across the room Hyunjin caught your eye, you glanced from him to the woman pressed up against his chest, arms loosely thrown around his shoulders.

He watched the question in your eye turn into something colder as she nuzzled closer to him, whispering something he couldn’t hear over the roar in his ears.

‘What the hell are you doing?’, is what he got from you mouthing it from a distance. You looked kinda angry-he thought at least, still tipsy, still distracted from this woman who now asked him lazily if he wanted to dance with her.

Well he shouldn’t.

Any other time he wouldn’t.

But you look positively pissed as he takes her hand in his and helps her sit upright.

You look like you’re about to stomp across the room and press him over the bar counter right now.

In front of everyone.

In front of your rich asshole coworkers, in front of your stupid boss, in front of this woman who clings to him.

And he doesn’t think that he’d mind, or maybe that was the alcohol talking,

But all he wanted was for you to touch him-shove your fingers down his throat

You look jealous and hot and he twitches under his dress pants, his cloudy mind coming up with a bright idea he’d know if he were sober is stupid and probably childish.

But in the moment it’s his brightest idea.

His hands find their way to interlock with the woman’s, she smiles at him and he wishes it were your’s. Wishes that he wouldn’t have to go to this length for you to pay attention to him.

“Would you like to dance, milady?” She swoons at that, nodding along with a smile that makes his stomach churn uncomfortably.

She giggles as he raises an eyebrow, trying his best to smile back at her. “I would!”

And so he dances, he twirls her in his arms, he dips her and pretends she’s you, glad that this isn’t the type of outing that includes dances with any kind of grinding. Glad for once that the rich have some kind of class.

He watches you out of the corner of his eye, sneaking small looks over her shoulder as she rambles on about something or other.

You’re in a conversation with your boss and someone else he can’t identify but you’re not listening, you’re not talking or even acknowledging them.

You’re watching him.

And his heart soars at the attention.

The only attention he’s wanted all night. 

The only eyes on him that he hasn’t felt uncomfortable with. Even if it’s paired with a hot glare, burning through his skin.

If looks could kill he would be six feet under the ground.

Maybe it would’ve encouraged him to stop if it didn’t make him feel so hot. 

You’d ruin him tonight. 

You’d make him regret every little second of letting her run her hands all over his body. Every word he’d used to sweet-talk her. You’d touch him and tease him and torture him until he’d be little more than an incoherent slut for you.

And he’d love every second of it.

He’d get high off of it, drink it in like a drug. Like an addiction, a craving that he could never even fathom breaking. 

Not when it would render him so much more useless than any alcohol would. 

Not when it felt like ecstasy and euphoria in his veins. 

Not when he was so completely and utterly obsessed that he’d sink to levels this low to get you to look at him.

Someone said something. Someone close. Oh. Her. He’d nearly forgotten about her.

He hummed, tearing away from you to look down to her. “Hmm?”

She smiled somewhat awkwardly. “You’re a good dancer, you know?”

Hyunjin smiled, taking the compliment. “Thank you-and you as well.” He hadn’t forgotten all his manners after all.

“Why thank you! You know-“

“Hyunjin.” A voice snapped, cutting her off. An involuntary shiver ran down his body and he thought to be ashamed for a second before he realized that he didn’t really care.

“Yes?”

You smiled at her, then at him, trying to seem pleasant. Trying to keep up that facade you’d been wearing all night. “I’m sorry,” you didn’t sound sorry as you gripped his arm, nails digging through the fancy fabric of his shirt. “But would it be alright of I borrowed your dance partner for a bit?”

You didn’t even wait for her reply, pulling him off of her and off the dance floor before the words were even out.

Your voice was a hiss into his ear. The sound like music to his ears. “You’re fucking dead-do you hear me Hwang Hyunjin.” 

It wasn’t a question, no, not in the slightest. No. It was a threat.

—-

“Do you have anything to defend yourself?”

He was on his knees in front of you. Your hand in his hair, tugging his head up to look at you, it aches. It hurts and it feels like heaven, it’s where he belongs. 

“I’m sorry.”

He isn’t.

“Just wanted your attention.” It could be pitiful the way he says it. Voice shaking, trembling slightly. But that’s not the case.

Because his eyes are alight with glee, relentless triumph that tells you the brat got exactly what he fucking wanted.

This is what you love about him though. The push and the pull. The back and forth. It’s something new everyday. It’s a challenge and it’s fucking hot.

But not tonight.

Tonight was important. Tonight was the one night that you didn’t want this. And you’ll make him pay hell for it.

“Bull-fucking-shit, sweetheart.” Your tone is bitter, cold and there’s no taking the words any other way. 

He doesn’t want to take the words any other way. 

Your cold tone and the fury in his eyes only proves one thing-he got his way. “You wanted me to punish you-right darling?” He can’t even keep himself from nodding, admitting it all, completely transparent. 

You laugh, mean and malicious, promising him pain and pleasure and everything in between. “And guess what?” He closes his eyes as you lean down and brush a hand down his dress pants, pressing the heel of your palm against the hard-on he’s been sporting for half the night. “You’re getting exactly what you wanted.”

You suddenly tug him up by his hair and he follows like an obedient dog as you press him back, the counter of the sink digging into his back in a way that would be uncomfortable.

But he can’t think of that.

Not when you press your lips against his, quips and bratty remarks, smartass responses getting buried into the very back of his mind.

This kiss was different. Not gentle and certainly not soft. Hungry and rough, ravenous and demanding and hard. Practically devouring him, eating him alive, all tongue and teeth and lips.

You let yourself get lost in the process. In the movements. In nothing but pure unfiltered yearning and longing. 

And just for a second, only a second, you forget about tonight. Forget about the woman and your boss and these rich assholes you hate almost as much as Hyunjin but can’t do anything about.

You think about how busy you’ve been. How much you want him, how much you’ve needed him. How much you love him.

A feeling you could never begin to put into words so you pour it all into this. Into nipping and biting and turning his brain into mush.

Exactly as he wants.

For a second that’s all there is, not an ounce of anger, filled only with scorching desire.

"I want you,” he whines, hands pressing against your hips, pulling you closer, pulling you into him as you let him slide his tongue into your mouth. “I want you so bad.”

He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe and his head spins and drool is covering his chin and he can’t get enough.

Of you and your lips and your touch. It’s bliss and it’s so, so much, so overwhelming. He can hardly think straight. 

You hiss out when his hands dig into your hips so hard you’re sure that it’ll leave marks. He pushes himself against you and sobs out, lips trembling, legs shaking. “Miss you-please, miss you so much.” 

You press his hair back, tucking your thumb just under his shirt, running it over his skin to soothe him, hushing him and holding him close.

He shakes, gripping onto you for dear life, burying his head into your chest like if he were to let go, like if he were to not feel you against him you’d disappear.

He mutters something you can’t hear. Low and unintelligible.

“Speak up.” You pull him back, look him in the eye.

Hyunjin looks shy, that desperate look in his eyes, his uneven breathing becoming apparent in heavy pants as he works himself up even further against your thigh. “C-can I make you feel good?”

He’d do about anything for you in this moment. He’d hang the stars in the sky and make a trip to the moon just for a little extra to see you smile. He’d do anything-anything at all, anything you wanted.

You cup his face in your hand and watch as he nuzzles into it, dumb and desperate and focused solely on you. “Only if you want to.” 

He nods and you give him the room to drop to his knees, onto the dirty public bathroom floor, where people still roam about outside.

When you turn and take up his previously place against the counter, pulling down your pants and underwear in one go he whines, a moan rumbling in the back of his throat. 

You look so good, so pretty, he nearly cums in his pants from this alone. 

Who knew you’d look so good standing above him like this? Legs spread open wide, beckoning him closer with a single finger. He flushes and scoots closer, resting his chin against your stomach. “C’mon, don’t get shy on me now Jinnie.”

That’s all the permission he needs as his hands grab at your skin, no hesitation or teasing before he’s pulling you into his mouth, moaning at the taste of you.

Finally.

Your moan bounces off the four walls of the venues tiled walls, echoing and leaving you glad you had locked the door when you came in.

"Shit!" You curse sharply as his tongue flicks against you.

You’d forgotten how good he is with his mouth when he’s using it for something other than trying to piss you off.

The tongue on him is like no other and you know he knows that as he licks up and down, knowing exactly where to suck and exactly where the spot is that makes you throw your head back with a groan, gasping for air.

Your thighs squeeze around his head as you groan, knuckles turning white as you grab onto the counter. “Fuck!”

He murmurs something against you that you can’t hear, something that vibrates deliciously against your sensitive skin. 

“So good, such a good boy~” You praise him and you know it does something to his head, know that it affects him when he whines, slurping obscenely before shifting closer and pulling one leg over his shoulder. 

Your other hand finds its purchase in his silky hair, digging your fingers almost painfully into his scalp, thrusting into his mouth while name after name falls from your lips.

You don’t even know what you’re saying, too absorbed in the pleasure, but he hears each one.

Hears you call him a slut and a pretty boy, your angel and your little whore, your toy, your puppy. His head swirls, as does his tongue and he knows you’re getting closer, with the way your voice grows more frantic and your hand in his hair pulls harder.

He groans and he whines and he whimpers, throbbing, so very close but he can’t touch. He won’t touch. He’s going to listen. Going to be a good boy and wait.

Not give into the urge to fuck his cock into his fist like his hand is itching to do or start thrusting against your calf like his hips are aching to.

He’s a good boy.

A good puppy.

He can listen.

And in this very moment if all you want to do is use his face like a toy, that’s all he wants to be. 

A perfect brainless toy, pleasing you, ignoring the way his body craves your touch and aching for any kind of stimulation.

All that matters are your moans, the way that you call out him name. The way that you let out a cry as you see white, thighs trembling before they clench tightly around his head, holding him in place as you pet him like he’s your favourite dog.

He better be your favourite.

You look down at him, eyes hazed, smile lazy. 

This is what he is here for. To make you feel good. To be a good puppy for you.

You let him go but he doesn’t move, clinging to your leg, pressing his forehead against your knee as he makes sure to lick up every bit of you.

“Good boy~” He shivers.

You reach down and put a single finger under his chin, pushing his face to look up at you.

His blood runs cold when he recognizes that look in your eye. 

“You were so good for me puppy, too bad,” you muse, to yourself really as you smirk down at him. “Too bad my good puppy can’t cum for another two weeks, as per his punishment.”

His eyes go wide.

He’s fucked up. 

You look sadistic, sweaty hair sticking out in odd directions but still the hottest person on the planet to him. 

“I don’t let other people play with my toys.”

taglist is open here: @lino-jagiyaa, @missrobyn81, @shincode, @laylasbunbunny, @hahagay, @d7dream, @hobihearteu, @imsolovelylovely, @lemonhongjoong, @abcdefgiwsmcty, @xcookiemonsteer

[hustlerose]

metric fan.... what are your thoughts on art of doubt ? i'm trying to get into metric and that's the one album that's clicking with me big time... it's so good

i have strongly mixed feelings about art of doubt, and broadly about this newer era the band is in

i hated pagans in vegas. that album was a major slump. i thought they were going the way of bloc party or lcd soundsystem or any number of weirdo indie rock bands from the 00's, where they'd keep on truckin but never reach their glorious highs again...

well, it didn't turn out that way. art of doubt is a triumph, a return to form, and proof they can still write a great rock album. emily's voice is in top form. i've always loved how delicate and sincere she sounds on mic, and middle age has only made those qualities stronger. listen to her gliding across that slippery groove in "anticipate," fluttering breathlessly over the chorus of "underline the black," or balancing between warmth and sarcasm on "seven rules." performances like these make a metric album worth it

i think art of doubt contains some of the best metric songs EVER. "now or never now" is genuinely a top 10 indie rock song imo. when it's on, i never want it to end. "dressed to suppress" is a really knockout track, the kind no one else seems to make anymore. and the last 3 songs are gorgeous. they're naked and unpretentious in a way that just melts my heart

and can i just say the production is killer. metric albums are usually super crisp and detailed, but this one blows em all out of the water. every drum hit BANGS. the guitars on this whole album sound phenomenal

all that said, i think the album has problems. emily pushes her voice outside her comfort zone a few times and... sometimes that works, like on those high notes in "no lights on the horizon." sometimes it DOES NOT WORK, like when she tries to scream some lines on the title track. her voice refuses to get loud and she just yelps awkwardly. the production tries to help her out by adding some distortion, but that only makes it worse. moments like this draw attention to how one-dimensional this album is outside of some key moments.

but here's my real beef with art of doubt, as well as formentera 1 and 2. these songs have a terrible case of "bad verse, great chorus" disease. "die happy," "holding out," and "dark saturday" are the worst offenders here. the choruses sound like they're totally disconnected from the verses around them. the transitions are janky and abrupt, and when the chorus ends my only thought is "damn, i have to slog thru 30 more seconds of sludge before i can get back to the song i was enjoying." so many of the deep cuts have this problem, and it makes the whole album feel choppy and stilted

overall, i like the record. i like it a lot. but on repeated listens, i end up skipping more and more songs until i'm left with the handful i truly love. not my fav metric album, but i'll admit it's grown on me since it dropped

if you like art of doubt, do yourself a huge favor and listen to synthetica. the whole album, front to back. it's one of the greatest alt rock albums ever written. when you're done, listen to fantasies. it's their most popular, and it's equally great.

somewhere in there, find some time for this playlist i just made: metric essential deep cuts. emily doesn't get enough credit as a master lyricist and songwriter. together, the haines-shaw songwriting duo are truly special, the kind of thing you're lucky to get once in a generation. i hope this playlist makes a case for that <3

[cooking-with-hailstones]

Statistical analysis of the most popular A:TLA fics on AO3

(All of this is accurate as of May 27 2024)

I like numbers and statistical analysis and for some unfathomable reason I find it calming. So last night I made this spreadsheet!

DISCLAIMER: This is not a judgement of the quality, value, or merits of any of the fics on this list. It's just me being curious about what's popular with the A:TLA fandom on AO3. I was genuinely surprised at some of the results!

Observations and analysis under the cut:

TL:DR, the fandom fucking loves putting Zuko into Situations.

Methodology: I'm including all fics from the first page of results from the most kudos'd, commented, hits, and bookmarks tagged under the Avatar: The Last Airbender (cartoon, 2005) tag on ao3. I am deliberately not including any larger multifandom flash fiction or drabble collections because I don't think they're super relevant. This ended up including 38 fics in total.

I put all the fics into one single spreadsheet in order to compare the differences between fics that are really high on the kudos count but not the hit count, or what has a lot of comments but fewer hits. Basically, I'm throwing a lot of things together to observe what gets engagement and looking at patterns that emerge!

Top 5 most popular fics by hit count:

Salvage - MuffinLance

Fractures - EvieNyx

Embers- Vathara

Towards the Sun - MuffinLance

The Art Of Burning - hella1975

Max: 1,407,170 (Salvage -MuffinLance)

Min: 78,168 (Risking it all - Sreeder)

Average: 349,442

Top 5 most popular fics by kudos count:

Salvage - MuffinLance

The Family You Choose - TunaFishChris

where the stars do not take sides - WitchofEndor

Fractures - EvieNyx

The beginning of a new and brighter birth - aloneintherain

Max: 59,947 (Salvage - MuffinLance)

Min: 3293 (Risking it all - Sreeder)

Average: 19,868

Top 5 most popular fics by number of comments:

The Art Of Burning - hella1975

Salvage - MuffinLance

Fractures - EvieNyx

Towards the Sun - MuffinLance

War Games - Lovely_Elbow_Leech

Max: 13,469 (The Art Of Burning - hella1975)

Min: 358 (Hallowed - Haircrescendo)

Average: 3634

Top 5 most popular fics by number of bookmarks:

absence of heat, excess of destiny - theycallmesuperboy

Salvage - MuffinLance

where the stars do not take sides - WitchofEndor

The Family You Choose - TunaFishChris

The beginning of a new and brighter birth - aloneintherain

Max: 150,317 (absence of heat - theycallmesuperboy)

Min: 430 (Risking it all - Sreeder)

Average: 9297

Highest kudos/hit ratio: Safety First - Haircrescendo (20.36%)

Lowest kudos/hit ratio: My Heart Burns For You - alwaysZutarian (0.89%)

Average kudos/hit ratio: 8.25%

Fic Ratings:

G: 9

T: 18

M: 6

E: 2

Unrated: 3

Popular authors (people who showed up more than once):

Aloneintherain (3)

Haircrescendo (5)

MuffinLance (4)

WitchofEndor (2)

Characters:

Literally all of these fics are Zuko-centric. Not all of them are Zuko-pov but every. single. one. focuses on Zuko as a main character. At least one of the following tags is on every single fic in this list: "The Gaang & Zuko", "Zuko & Zuko's Crew", "Zuko & Iroh" "Zuko & Azula" and "Zuko & [insert gaang member here]"

Relationships:

Ok this is what actually shocked me the most. I fully expected to see more Kataang, Zutara, etc in the top rated fics, but NO! Only 21 out of the 38 fics had any relationship slash tag, and of those, 20/21 were Sokka/Zuko (shoutout to My Heart Burns For You as the token Zutara fic to make it into this list). I did NOT realize Zukka was so popular! Now I'm super curious about what it would be like to run these numbers on FF.net because I know so much A:tla fanfic was written before ao3 existed and most hasn't been cross-posted, and Zukka wasn't a popular ship until more recently.

Other random observations:

There seems to be a pretty even split between post-canon firelord Zuko fics and canon-divergent "Zuko joins the Gaang early" fics.

Only one modern au as far as I could tell! (shoutout to "The Good Vanilla")

We all seem to love a Dadkoda fic

There is a very strong correlation between one-shots and a high kudos/hit ratio.

Seemingly no correlation between word count and number of kudos. The top kudos'd stories were mostly under 10k words, while all the other catergories were dominated by fics in the 100k+ word count.

I didn't really see much correlation between hits, kudos, and comments overall.

There were LOTS of fics that only showed up in one category, which was really interesting! I figured each list would look pretty much the same, and there were several fics that did show up on the front page of every category (Salvage definitely sweeps the board for overall most popular fic), but there was a lot of variation between each list! Some fics had TONS of hits but very few comments, some had truly wild kudos/hit ratios, some were just massively bookmarked.

Thank you for indulging in my nerdiness, and feel free to tell me what I missed or anything you're curious about!

Update: I did it again, this time with Legend of Zelda

[jungwnies]

syn ' a-z safe for work for enhypen's jake pairing ' bf!jake x gn!reader

very much clearly he's my bias >.>

a ⋆ affection - how affectionate are they?

guys

guys guys guys

he is so affectionate

words cannot even explain it

he is so physical

and he is so verbal

always tells you how much he loves you

and he will always tell you how much he loves you

it's nothing new

he loves showing you and telling you how much he cares and loves you

b ⋆ bonding - how often do they bond with you?

always

even when he's away

he's always bonding with you

it's just who he is

building connections with you 24/7

c ⋆ communication - do they keep in touch with you when they're away?

yes of course

he always texts you

always calls you

texts you good morning

and goodnight

and promises he'll be back soon

and he definitely is back soon

d ⋆ dates - how often do they set up a date for you two?

honestly not all the time

when he has time for you

he would much rather prefer it at home

and in an intimate setting

he loves being cuddled up with you

i can't even tbh

e ⋆ essential - what is the thing that is important to them?

obviously layla

and you

and his family

god he values those around him so much

he will do anything for them

even though he gets annoyed or mad sometimes

nothing will change how much he cares about the people in his life

his heart is big okay he has a BIG HEART 😭

f ⋆ friends - how did the friendship start?

honestly i can see you guys as school friends

like you guys some of the same classes

but in one specific class you guys are seated next to each other

and you guys get super close because you're forced to do projects together and stuff

and from there you guys just started talking about other people in school and eventually talking about your own drama

and the friendship blossomed from so much innocence

so sweet ugh

he's that best friend every high schooler wants bro

g ⋆ gross - what is the thing he hates in your relationship?

he hates when you guys are ignoring each other

he's one to talk things out but when he's super upset he likes to distance himself

but he hates that

he hates not being able to talk to you about something when you guys are arguing

and especially when you guys were just friends

whenever you would beef he would be so sad

because he always had so much to tell you :c

h ⋆ hugs - do they like hugs? how do they feel?

he loves them omg?

his hugs are so big and comforting

the way his arms wrap around your torso

the way he nuzzles his head into the crook of your shoulder?

it's just so comforting and sweet

you can never get enough

always kisses you when you guys hug too

even if it's just a kiss on the top of the head

or a real kiss

okay anyways

i ⋆ intercourse - how are they during intercourse?

i think jake knows what he's doing

like when it comes to the actual

thing

but when it comes to foreplay

he's a little confused ???

he's good with his mouth too

but that's for another time >>>

j ⋆ jealousy - how jealous do they get?

he's so jealous

he holds you closer

kisses you longer

literally side-eyes anyone who glances at you

but he's not too crazy

he sulks about it sometimes

it's so cute LMFAO

k ⋆ kiss - how good are they at kissing?

like i said

he's good with his mouth

so obviously

he's good at kissing

l ⋆ love - how do they show their love to you?

physical touch

and quality time

you have no idea how much this boy

loves spending time with you

it's definitely one of his love languages

he will give anything up just to have time with you

m ⋆ mad - how often do you argue?

not often to be honest

he doesn't like arguing with you

but when you guys do argue

its usually quickly resolved

but there are those few times where it goes on

and turns into silent treatment

n ⋆ naughty - how do they deal with you annoying them?

he just does

he thinks you're cute

too cute to get annoyed with

plus he's annoying too

he's very clingy

o ⋆ open - how often do they open up to you?

he's so open with you

you are literally his best friend

so obviously he is always spilling tea with you

and telling you all his problems

you're his rock

p ⋆ pet names - how are they with pet names?

prince(ss), babe, baby, sweetie, love

big on baby, prince(ss), and love though

he loves using those on you

and when you call him pretty & baby

it makes his knees buckle

q ⋆ quiet - silent treatment?

sometimes he does give it to you

and sometimes you give it to him

but it makes him so sad

like he will really cry about this

he hates it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

r ⋆ ramble - how often do they talk about you to others?

not often to be honest

he just talks about your dates and stuff

but he doesn't brag

he's not a bragger

except for that one time you-

s ⋆ soft - how soft are they to you?

oh he's so soft

he's the softest bro

literally golden retriever energy

t ⋆ think - what reminds them of you?

music

music will always trigger

memories for him

memories he has with you

makes him miss you so so so much

u ⋆ unhappy - what makes them break if you break up with them?

i think like i said the memories he has with you

every good and happy moment is shared with you

and the fact you were able to bond with layla too?

the way that would break him

cus layla would whine whenever she had a whiff of your perfume /cologne

the way it lingers in his house :c

v ⋆ vacation - how are they with long distance relationships?

he’s not the best

but he’s not the worst

i think he is really good at maintaining that connection with you

he’s a great texter when it comes to you

w ⋆ wholesome - the sweetest thing they ever did to you?

when he didn’t tell you he was coming home from tour a whole day early

and surprised you at home after your shift

with your favorite food

your favorite snacks/candy

just the sweetest boy

and he brought layla over 😟

x ⋆ extra headcanon

jake was very scared you wouldn’t like layla

or layla wouldn’t like you

but when he saw layla immediately get attached to you

he basically was ready to commit to you

literally get down on one knee and marry you bro

y ⋆ young and beautiful - (how long does it last?)

i feel like a lot of his relationships tend to be short lived

but some are also really long

i think once he matures and grows up he starts to be more into the long term relationships

z ⋆ zzz - how do they sleep with you?

he loves having you on his chest

or he loves being the little spoon

he feels so safe in your arms

he falls asleep almost immediately with you

kisses you goodnight always

and while he’s nuzzled up in your neck leaves the softest kisses all over

and whispers sweet nothings in your ear until you are he falls asleep :(

2022 © jungwnies thanks for reading! reblogs & likes are appreciated!

[serendipnpipity]

Favorite DnP Tour Song Statistics

Settle round, little ducklings, do I have some statistics to share with you all!!

A grand total of 156 people participated in this survey, so thank you if you took the time to fill it out! 🧡

As a teaser, here’s a pie chart of the votes for your favorite song! We’ll be discussing this in depth in its own section but I know some of you f*ck vibe with pie charts more than the bar charts I use there…

To give you a clear vision of what we’ll be looking at, here are the categories of the upcoming analysis:

Phandometrics (community growth on a viewership & fandom scale)

Favorite Song (general)

Favorite Song vs. Phandometrics (the main hypothesis!)

Honorable Mentions (fun little quirks I noticed along the way)

Ready? Time to read on.

PHANDOMETRICS

Lag between year started watching -> year joined the phandom. This can be seen most obviously in the 2009-2015 portion of the graph, likely when the community was just building up. I went back to check individual points, and many people seem to join a year or two after starting to watch.

Three distinct peaks of phandom growth: 2015 (dnp popularity peak), 2019 (coming out), and 2023 (dnpg comeback, dnp renaissance). Pretty expected, but still cool to see!

The difference between the peaks when you look at viewership vs. phandom is interesting though! Especially 2019 seems to be a huge spike in viewership, but the phandom growth seems a little more gradual (maybe more people lurked at first, then joined the phandom in 2023 once they were more active?).

The 2012 peak is really interesting. Most popular year to start watching from this sample, apparently!

FAVORITE SONG

"The Internet is Here" won 51.3% of the votes... which didn't surprise me all that much. It's iconic, okay?

II is about half as popular, and beyond the song qualities themselves, I wonder if a contributing factor to this pattern could be its lack of availability as an officially released song.

I think Everything's Fine is so low partially bc I closed the poll before WAD released to prevent the recency effect from skewing the data. (Especially because I thought we were getting "Everything's Fine (Acoustic)" smh.)

FAVORITE SONG VS. PHANDOMETRICS

By era...

I had a hypothesis: based on the year you joined, which I now realize in my head wrongly equated with the year you were most active in, you'd be more biased towards the song of that era bc a) you were more likely to go to the tour or b) epic nostalgia hit.

Yeah, I was wrong.

When you group the eras you see that TIIH wins in almost every single group by a similar proportion to the total, which means this attitude is fairly evenly distributed amongst the phannies.

By year...

Separating by year, you begin to see that, hold up, the hypothesis could have some merit! In either 2017 or 2018 on both graphs, the II finale actually does win.

The super high TIIH votes bleeding in from 2015/2016 and from 2019 seemed to mask this pattern.

HONORABLE MENTIONS

I have no idea what happened here but both ways you slice it, Interactive Introverts was fighting for its life amongst the 2012 phannies???

We got three phannies that have been watching since 2009!! The fact that people have been sticking around so long (up to fifteen years!!! and this was only a sample of 156 of us!!!) is really heartwarming for me bc it's a testament to how strong of a community dnp have built their viewership to be.

At the end of the day, what can I say? That was a lot of statistics. I hope you enjoyed or took something away from this little survey. Lmk if you notice any other cool trends or have any theories on what the data means!

Thank you for listening to my yapping; have an orange heart.

🧡

[factual-fantasy]

28 Asks! Thank you! :}} 🧜‍♀️

Nope. That's not me. I don't have a tiktok. :/

Remember folks! Like my pinned post says, if you find my artwork anywhere else other than here? Its stolen 100% of the time!

@cat7890

I don't understand what you're asking... <:0

My only opinion is that the eyes are really spooky looking <XDD

@spacewitchgardevoir

Thank you so much!! :DD Unfortunately I haven't thought much of that through yet.. I only have vague ideas so far. Like how the slimes in The Wilds will be hisuian pokemon for example. I plan to work more on the slimes soon! <XDD

@sora-the-air-wubbox (Oh hey! I know of wubboxes! :D )

I have not actually.. are those the roblox guys..? <:0

@an-aspiring-jester

Awe! Thank you!! :DDD I'll have to think of who to pass this to next! :00

AAAA THANK YOU!! :DD I haven't played the slime Rancher 2 demo but I still want to play it when the full game comes out! :))

(PLA inspired comic in question)

AAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! Having my artwork compared to the beautiful works of studio Ghibili is such an honor!! 😭😭💞💞💞

And speaking of a continuation.. I actually finished drawing a short comic last night about Ingo and Emmet's reunion. It was all done and ready to post... but then I changed my mind. The quality of the comic was much lower than the PLA comic I just did. No backgrounds, rushed line art.. uninspired house design.. eh. I just wasn't satisfied.

I still plan to post a reunion comic mind you! I just want to put more heart into it and try drawing it again- <XDD

@blbllblblblll

A tempting offer I must say, but I'm still on break from the Octonauts fandom!.. <XD

@neo-metalscottic

Thank you!! :DDD And my favorite slime is the puddle slime.. 🥺💞 and my fave largo has gotta be the Mosaic x phosphor, but specifically the secret style pack version XDD

Now for Boom Boom and Pom Pom.. that's a good question.. I haven't really thought about them :00 I supposed they can be some higher ranking soldiers of some kind! (Also my Koopa Kingdoms has more primitive technology than in cannon <XD. Although they get quite a boost thanks to magikoopas.👀👀)

Also the super ball flower creates some interesting ideas.. maybe it could be a flower that allows Mario and Luigi to turn things into metal? But why would it be a flower.. hmm.. I think I'll have to do a lot of retconning If I wants to add this flower to my AU <XDD

Also thank you for the ask! Always appreciated :)))

@fizzy-stars

XDD Who knows? Maybe they are!

@wolfie-777

XDD Cant say I'll make a comic series for them, but if I did it would totally be like that! Mostly Dink being high energy and annoying the sleepy Doink XDD

So far my intentions are that they don't have a trainer :00

YOU ARE GIVING ME SOOO MANY ANGST IDEAS 👀👀👀

WAAAAAATHANKOTUUUU!!!! 😭💞💞💞💞

@gamesperger

You'd be surprised how often I get told that <XDD

@anikakitty11

AWWW I LOVE LUCAS!!! 😭😭💞💞💞

@samcat2

Draw something for me?.. weeell.... I do love Dusknoir... 🥺🥺👀👀👀

@yourstrulylightstar283

Not sick again, its the same unknown medical problem I've been dealing with for almost a year now.. 😔😔😔Thank you though, I'm doing my best to stay calm and take it easy <:}}}

Hi Timothy! I am afraid :D

His eyes always make me laugh <XDD

I have not.. though it looks good, maybe I should give it a watch! :00

(Furby Grimace)

Oh he's fine. He's just coming to grips with his own mortality that's all <XD

@red1sg0n3

:DD THANK YOUU!! :)))))

@justanintrovertedweirdo

WAAAHHGGGTHTHANK YOUUU SO MUCHH!!!!! 😭😭💞💞💞💞

And I'm so glad you feel the same way about the whole romantic love thing!! Sure they're great an all.. but I feel like the only kinds of relationships I see I fandoms are romantic ships..

Where are all the brotherhood comics? Characters motivated by a deep love for each other but its platonic and not romantic? I have so much more fun experimenting with those kinds of stories!

@cherrycreamfairy

:DDD Thank you! I'm glad to see Jangles getting some love! 🥰🥰

@kirshimadenkisero

XDD Go for it!

I know this was probably a drawing suggestion, but since they're closed now I'll answer it as a question....😅

My favorite legendary is a tough pick.. I love a lot of them.. 🥺💞💞but man, its hard to beat Xerneas. My favorite shiny is also a hard pick.. Its gonna have to be shiny Giratina. With shiny Rayquaza and shiny primal Kyogre as honorable mentions XDD

I know you didn't say this but I'll put it in there anyways XDD My favorite sub-legendary is Suicune. But my favorite shiny out of the sub-legendaries is actually Chi-Yu.. 👀👀

My favorite mythical Pokémon is Celebi , and my favorite shiny mythical is also Celebi. XDD I love that littol onion,,🥺💞💞💞