#replacement debacle

[garygoldenbignaturals]

everyone's talking about how in academia people are using chatgpt to breezily go thru school but in animation school my uni encouraged us to use. genAI.

[rv-there-yet]

3/11/2024 - the LCP replacement parts arrive

[nature-played-a-trick-on-me]

Person from the therapy practice who i can message w questions is like. Least clear person ever. Like what do you mean.

[gallusrostromegalus]

Basically. I got screwed.

I am very sorry for how relatively quiet this blog has been but I've been dealing with a very unpleasant situation the last few months, and now I need help.

Essentially, I tried to help someone out, and she took advantage of me, and I have no way to recoup my losses.

Earlier this year, I moved into a new house. Before we sold the old house, a Now-Former friend ran into some trouble and was about to become homeless with pets and a small child. Not wanting them to be on the street, we offered to hold off selling the old house so she could stay there for a little while, if she could pay the cost of the mortgage on that house (because I could afford one mortgage but not two) while we helped her find somewhere more permanent.

I was not making money from this- since I was still paying the utilities and property taxes, I was actually losing money, but willing to soak that in order to help her save up and get her on her feet.

Instead, she:

Never Paid a Dime towards covering the mortgage costs like she agreed ($12,000 for the nine months she was there)

Trashed the house ($500 dump fees for the trash alone)

Let her pets piss and shit all over the house ($1,500 bio hazard cleanup, $4000 to replace the carpet and other damaged flooring)

Caused an electrical issue in the garage ($900 to repair)

Broke the washer, dryer and refrigerator ($2500 to replace)

Broke the fence ($1000 to repair)

When I told her I could no longer financially support her and that I needed to sell the old house, she illegally squatted there for a solid three months and I had to hire a lawyer and actually take her to court to get her to leave ($2,500)

The resulting stress has been, as you can imagine, stressful.

So stressful, in fact, that it aggravated a the medical conditions my husband had and made him extremely sick. He had to go to the hospital and take time off work to recover. Now the health insurance is trying to weasel out of paying his short-term disability claim.

So net, this woman has managed to cost me around $25,000 and that's not taking into account the missed paychecks and medical expenses. I do not have $25,000, and until at least $13,000 of that is spent to repair the damage she did, I legally cannot sell the house to even begin to recoup my losses.

Theoretically, I could sue this woman, but she doesn't have any money and it would be me paying even more money I don't have to get... Nothing. So I'm asking for help to cover the costs of getting the old house ready to sell, my husband's medical expenses, and other expenses incurred by this debacle:

If you can help out in any way-share, donate spare change, anything- I'd be extremely grateful.

Thank you.

[p0orbaby]

For a Good Time, Call…

summary: you send a nude to the wrong number, you don’t expect what happens next.

warnings: Leah, yeah that’s a warning, suggestive themes

a/n: one of my favourite of bits of writing ngl

word count: 2.1k

part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | epilogue

-

You’ve never felt dread like it.

“Shit shit shit!” You repeat as you try and stop the message from sending.

The woosh and the delivered sign told you it had already been spat out into the ether. You want to leave the city. The country even. Perhaps fill the next available spot on a space shuttle.

All of the above possibilities rattle through your brain as you pull your t-shirt down from where it was hitched around your neck. Yank your shorts up from where they lay low on your hips.

“I’m dead. I am so dead!”

If your heart wasn’t racing before, it definitely was now.

Panic sets in as you contemplate the impending fallout. Terrible thoughts race through your mind, and you highly consider drafting an apology that somehow erases the embarrassment. The gravity of the situation hangs heavy, and groveling seems like the only viable option.

Could she get you benched? Maybe. Could she stop you from getting another international call up? You really fucking hoped not.

In the midst of your demise, you realise another sorry soul will have to bear the consequences of your actions. Bar Girl. The intended recipient of the half naked photo you signed, sealed and delivered to someone else.

You decide, rightly or not, that she has now become collateral damage. And the decision to ghost her emerges as a seemingly reasonable response.

The potential repercussions from your inadvertent exposure now cast a grim shadow on all aspects of your life, making abandoning Bar Girl a desperate attempt to shield yourself from further embarrassment.

The idea of changing your identity hovers temptingly in your periphery.

Desperation takes hold, and for a moment, you entertain the delusional thought that maybe you had imagined the whole debacle in some lustful daze. However, when a subtle movement on screen catches your attention, reality hands you a more damning blow – the weight of the situation crashes down as ‘read’ replaces the once-hopeful ‘delivered’.

Acknowledgement from Leah has shifted from a delivery confirmation to active viewing.

As if it had just set alight in your hands, you hurl your phone across the room. The reality sets in that there’s no turning back; the message, along with its aftermath, is now etched into the digital realm.

The room echoes with the crash of your phone meeting the wall. As the device lies discarded, its screen cracked, you’re left to face the reality that there’s no undoing the chain of events.

In a desperate release, you roll over and scream into your pillow until the muffled sound becomes an agonizing buzz in your ears.

-

The next day hits hard as you trudge into the changing room. You barely slept. Tossing and turning most of the night in an anxious bubble. And when exhaustion finally took over, your dreams were more like nightmares.

You were tempted to call in sick. But you decided that wallowing in your own despair would probably just make matters worse. So you settled on a compromise.

Avoid Leah at all costs.

Your hood hangs low over your face as you pass by several of your teammates and make a silent beeline for your cubby. But that may have piqued their interests more, as Beth finds herself invading the space you so desperately crave.

“You look rough. Bar Girl give you a run for your money?”

“Something like that” you grumble, hands making quick work of unpacking your bag.

She hums at you and smirks at how disheveled you look when your hoodie comes off. You know where her mind has gone, but you don’t try and dissuade her from writing an excuse for you.

“So, when are you going to make it official then? You’ve been talking for almost a month right?” Beth asks, her eyes flitting around your face and down your neck in search of marks left behind.

You offer a noncommittal shrug. “I’m not sure if I will. I’ve still got the feelers out” you reply, the words sounding awkward and detached even to your own ears.

Beth raises an eyebrow, you gather it’s not the response she expected. Especially from you.

“That doesn’t sound like you”

“No?”

“I thought you were all about the long game?”

You offer a half-smile, choosing your words carefully. “Opinions change, you know?” you reply, slipping your training kit over your head and turning away to fold your discarded clothes, hoping she’d get the point.

Beth studies you for a moment, her eyes searching for something beyond the surface. “Fair enough. Keep us posted though yeah? She seemed nice”

You wince at her words. Jesus, you felt like a bitch, but you nod anyway. It seems to do enough. When you hear her walk away, you release a breath.

“Oh” she voices unexpectedly behind you, and you immediately tense up again. “Leah’s asking for you”

You turn on your heels, spinning so fast you almost topple over. “Did she say what it was about?” You ask. You try not to seem nervous but the sweat above your brow is giving you away.

“No. Just that she wants you to meet her in the gym when you’re ready”

You nod again, and swallow hard. Your throat was dry and you felt like you could pass out. “Sure, yeah. I’ll head there in a second”

Beth eyes you again suspiciously but when she eventually turns and leaves the room, you’re left to grapple with your jitters in solitude

“Shit” you mutter to yourself. And as you stand there trying to regain yourself, it becomes very apparent that you don’t actually have a back up plan.

If you really do lose minutes on the pitch, your career could be on the line.

Conscious that you've already left her waiting too long, you dart out of the room with a newfound sense of urgency.

The corridors blur as you navigate the familiar path, the door to the gym looming larger with each stride. And when you get there you’re out of breath and clammy.

Is it weird to say you're grateful that a door handle is cold against your skin? Perhaps, but you are. It grounds you a little as you stand there panicking.

Taking a moment to collect yourself, you open the door and step into the gym at last. The air feels charged with anticipation as you brace yourself for a meeting that could have repercussions far beyond the boundaries of the training facility.

But Leah is nowhere to be found. The lights are all off and the room looks the same as it was left the day before.

Is Beth having you on? Or is Leah trying to mess you around, torture you until you break down and leave on your own accord.

Don’t be so silly. She wouldn’t do that, would she?

“Hey”

You jump out of your skin as the silence is disrupted. You turn in fright and she’s lucky she’s so far away because you're a fighter, not a flighter, and you’re sure you would’ve punched her straight in the face.

“Why the hell are you hiding in the dark? You idiot!” you blurt out, the initial shock now giving way to frustration. The tables have turned, and you can’t help but question Leah’s peculiar choice of location for this conversation.

Leah lets out a short laugh. “Hiding? I wasn’t hiding. Just needed to grab a few things from the cupboard”. She lifts up her hands to showcase the foam rollers you deduce she was looking for.

“Beth said you wanted to talk”

“That’s right”

“Do I need to ask what it’s about?”

She laughs again and you start to lose your patience a little. She notices and glances at you with a more serious expression when you don’t look impressed, so she gestures for you to join her in a quieter corner of the gym.

“I get it; the suspense isn’t helping,” Leah admits, her tone softening. “But you’re not stupid. I think you know why I’ve called you in here”

As you follow her, Leah’s demeanor takes an unexpected turn. The serious expression gives way to a playful twinkle in her eye. “Didn’t know you were into that kind of thing. Nudes, I mean,” she teases, a mischievous grin playing on her lips. “Nipple piercings too? You’ve been hiding some interesting secrets, haven’t you?”

Leah’s teasing catches you off guard, and your words stumble over each other as you stammer, “I, uh, well, it’s not—I mean, I didn’t…”

“Don’t get all nervous on me now” she says as she perches on the edge of a massage table. “You seemed pretty confident last night”

You attempt to salvage some dignity, but Leah’s mischievous grin suggests she’s thoroughly enjoying your discomfort. “I didn’t mean to send it to you. It was a mistake”

“No?” She pops her bottom lip out in a pout. “That’s a shame”

You feel a knot forming in your stomach, and your attempts to defend yourself only seem to fuel Leah’s amusement. “I-I…” you struggle to form a coherent response. And you silently curse yourself for not being able to hold your ground.

“If not me, then who?” She asks as if it’s any of her business. If you weren’t so stunned by the whole thing you’d have told her to fuck off. But the words don’t quite make it past your lips, and you find yourself at her mercy. “I won’t judge”

There’s a pregnant pause where you decide if you should tell her. Then with a reluctant sigh, you decide to reveal the truth. “Someone… a girl I met last month”

“Bar Girl” she deduces.

You were never really close to Leah. You played for the same teams, sure. But you never frequent the same social circles. Not really. So to find out she knows about what you get up to in your free time is a little jarring.

“Yeah, her,” you admit, feeling exposed in a way that extends beyond the painful fact she’s seen your tits.

“Hm” is all she says before she holds her hand out to you. And you take it without even thinking.

“You know” she starts. Settling you so your front is almost flush against hers as you stand between her legs. “I’ve always wondered what you’ve been hiding under that jersey of yours” she finishes, tucking some stray hairs behind your ear. Her fingers brushing your skin and setting it on fire.

“The same parts as you, I’m guessing”

“Funny”

“I do try”

There’s another lull, and in the silence you swear you can hear your heart beating.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” Her question is barely above a whisper.

You shake your head no. Because she isn’t making you uncomfortable. Confusing you, yes. Intriguing you, certainly. But uncomfortable? Not exactly.

Leah leans back slightly, studying your expression. “Good, wouldn’t want to cross any lines.” Her fingers continue to play with your hair, a casual touch that feels anything but.

“Lines can be subjective” you say, your eyes trained on hers as you watch her mouth pull into a smirk.

Where this new found confidence has come from you don’t know.

“Can they?” She questions. Her eyes glint as she tilts her head to the side. Is she mocking you?

“Sometimes”

She likes your answer, you think, despite the still of her hands in your hair. Because her expression shifts and she leans in, her gaze dropping to your mouth.

“Interesting,” she murmurs, untangling your hair from her fingers and brushing her thumb over your bottom lip. You catch a glimmer of satisfaction in her eyes as she notices the blush deepening on your cheeks.

Without breaking her eyes from yours, Leah leans in just enough to tease. Close enough that you can feel each breath angst your skin. Far enough away that it’s infuriating. Then she pulls away, leaving you hanging on the edge of anticipation.

Then she’s gone.

You stand frozen while she unfurls herself away from you, sidestepping from the space she occupied between you and the massage table.

You only turn when she clears her throat behind you.

“Message me again sometime?”

The way she asked was softer than you expected. Softer than how she was talking to you for the last five minutes. It catches you off guard and a response gets stuck in your throat again.

You nod because that seems to be your default reaction to all of her questions. A smirk must be hers to you, because she flashes another one in your direction.

With that, she was gone. Leaving you alone in the dark with a skip in your pulse and two discarded foam rollers at your feet.

And a sneaking suspicion your spot for both club and country were going to be okay.

[fraugwinska]

You know what I'd like to read? Goofy ass Alastor. Him and reader just bonding through being partners in crime. The crime in question? Silly pranks on other hotel guests. They can be painfully cringe and only funny to them. Because you know. Boredom. Make them friends, make them sweethearts, make it somehow end in smut ( ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) )- idc. You do you, Gwinska!

I just want some strawberry pimp shenanigans!

My inspiration for that exquisite prompt?

This: https://www.instagram.com/p/C5SIGvCg91j/?igsh=cmF5cjc5Znlpdnhu

Hello there, patient frauchen! Boy, you had me sweating here! But alas, I did it and I think it's safe to say - I got all your wishes covered ;> This one's for my adult sinners only! Sorry Minors, please DNI!

❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️

Joke's On You

Everyone at the Hazbin Hotel knew that Alastor loved silly, dumb pranks.

The radio demon would set Charlie in a panic, rushing in her office to tell her that there was water running down the freshly renovated staircase - only for her and a similar panicking Vaggie to find bottles of water in shoes placed on the steps, groaning at the delighted chuckle from the shadows at the top of them. Morning coffees and stomachs were ruined by Alastor one day, switching the contents of the salt and the sugar jars and in having half of the residents hurl into the sink at once. You were one of those unfortunate souls, the only one laughing maniacally at the whole ordeal as you spat out salty saliva.

Because what they didn't know was that you were just as bad. Maybe even worse.

A few weeks had gone by since you checked in, and you watched Alastor with impish glee as he planned out and executed his tricks on the crew, including you. In contrast to the exhausted, annoyed reactions from the other residents, you always laughed, chuckled or giggled at the outcome - leaving him always in between confused and delighted.

Until one day. Emboldened and settled in enough, you decided the day has come for you to join in on the fun. Prepared with a dry noodle in your mouth, you asked Vaggie after breakfast to help you crack your back, watching Alastor from the corner of your eye, who sat at the table still reading his newspaper. As he looked up after turning a page and Vaggie obliged, hooking her arms into yours and bending forward, you bit down. The sound of the cracking noodle and your fake scream made Vaggie and the rest of the residents jump in shock and Alastor nearly double over, howling with laughter. You couldn't hold it together, showing her the cracked noodle and cackled madly while Vaggie, comforted by a nervous but relieved looking Charlie, just shook her head exasperated and groaned. "Great, another one who thinks this shit is funny." You apologized, still chuckling, as your eyes found Alastor's, and his wide smile and mischievous glint in his eyes told you that this was the beginning of a beautiful partnership.

It wasn't long until the both of you became fast friends, partners in crime.

After the whole noodle debacle, the two of you spent more and more time together, coming up with stupid ideas on what to do to the poor crew. Your first idea was a rather simple one: Replace the Alcohol in Husks bar with various other liquids. You and Alastor had a grand time switching vodka with water, red wine with beet juice and whiskey with apple cider vinegar. Alastor had his fun observing the results, especially Husks reaction. It wasn't pretty, to say the least. The cat had a breakdown when he smelled the vinegar in his usual drink, shouting curses at the deer who joined in your hysterical giggling. You patted the coughing cat on his back and handed him a new bottle of cheap booze as compensation.

Niffty was next, her sweet tooth was just too exploitable. While you prepared the very special 'surprise' cake, a balloon, hidden under a mass of frosting, high and pretty and covered in sprinkles, Alastor coaxed her into cutting a piece. "Come on now, Niffty, a small bite wouldn't hurt! You have to try the cake, my dear. We worked so hard on it, I assure you that you will like it!". She was hesitant at first, but as he promised her another one later, she couldn't resist the temptation and cut herself a piece, not noticing the grin on Al's face. The high shriek at the pop of the balloon was almost as hilarious as her face, covered in cream and colorful specks of reds, yellows and blues. The both of you couldn't stop laughing for minutes, and after Niffty calmed down enough, she took the joke in good fun and happily munched on the cupcake you had given her while Alastor and you cleaned her up, exchanging bemused looks.

After finding an exact copy of the remote control of the hotels' TV set on one of your outings, Alastor had the most wonderful idea to mess with the newest guest, Sir Pentious, who had claimed the TV in the lobby every evening to watch his favorite soap opera together with his egg companions. You both hid, the spare remote ready, waiting patiently until the snake had his show on and made himself comfortable on the sofa. You began to change the channels, and every time the Egg Bois hopped over to the TV to manually return to their show, you let them, waiting until everyone was once again settled before you switched the channel again. The villainous overlord hissed in rising anger, the sound of him slamming the original remote on the floor and yelling about the 'incompetence of these damn VoxTech devices' almost as satisfying as his face when Alastor took the remote from your hand, winking, and changed it right back, snickering as he did.

You continued to play your little tricks on everyone, although you made sure you always made it up to the recipients of your shenanigans. You felt a weird sense of pride and satisfaction seeing that Alastor didn't seem to mind having a partner in crime for a change. You didn't know much about him before, but the others told you that Alastor wasn't exactly known for making friends and having close relationships, and it warmed your heart knowing that he opened up a little bit and enjoyed the time he spent with you.

You also enjoyed the time you spent with him, not only because of the mischief you two brought upon the crew, but also just because you enjoyed his presence and company. He was witty, clever and had a wonderful, contagious laugh. And his smile. When he smiled at you, you would feel warm and giddy and you felt like you were the luckiest person in hell to be able to witness the joyful look on his face, to see his ears wiggle the peculiar way they did when your pranks played out exactly as he planned them to.

***

You turned the page of your book, still giggling. Alastor smiled, his legs suavely crossed as he leaned back in the comfy chair across from you, his own book forgotten and abandoned on his lap.

"I still can't believe you made me prank the literal king of hell.", you said, a hand covering your mouth in a useless attempt to stifle your laugh.

Alastor grinned. "And I can't believe you managed to hold yourself together, darling - yet, you did, splendidly might I add. His highness didn't suspect a thing."

Indeed, you best prank yet was a great success. After endless convincing you gave in to Alastor's idea of switching Lucifer's favorite treat of the day, his beloved caramel apples, out with onions. He had stood watch as you worked in the kitchen all through the night, meticulously covering every square inch of the white, smelly bulbs with a thick layer of homemade, glossy caramel so to not leave even an inkling of the mischief underneath. You didn't want to risk being found out, after all. The result was a tray full of gorgeous, golden, sticky caramelized onions that Lucifer didn't hesitate a single second to take a big bite out of when you - admittedly very nervously – offered them to him, his content hum at the taste quickly changing to one of surprise and revulsion as he gagged and coughed out pieces of the deceptive treat.

"He was really sweet about the whole ordeal, too. I wonder if my 'Apology Apple Pie' was the reason he was so quick to forgive us." You closed the book and put it on the table next to you, shifting and pulling the fuzzy blanket higher over your legs. The library was your and Alastors favorite hangout, usually being empty and abandoned, and it was also the place where the two of you would spend hours and hours together, reading, talking, scheming.

"He forgave you, darling. He still hates me down to his bones.", Alastor corrected you with a sly smirk. "But no doubt about the exquisite quality of that pie, dearest! I had a slice myself, it was delicious! A fine work, as expected from my best gal."

You chuckled, cheeks heating up at the praise. "So, what now? I think we got them all good by now, haven't we?"

Alastor's eyes were still on you as he pondered for a moment. "There's still our amorous arachnid to be played a fool, he has been quite elusive to our trickery."

"Angel is a hard nut to crack", you smiled to yourself, "There's not much that can rattle him. We would have to think about something major, something that really shocks him and truly makes him question everything he thinks is true and real in his life."

"Now there's a challenge." Alastor put his chin on his knuckles as he leaned onto the armrest of his seat. He closed his eyes, the little tell tale static from his chest permeating the air around him, indicating he was thinking intently. You couldn't help but smile as you studied his sharp features. A strange warm flutter tickled your stomach. "That lanky sinner has quite the filthy mind. It would have to be quite the filthy endeavor..."

"Ha, wouldn't that be something he would not see coming from Mr. Celibate - his words not mine!", you snorted, remembering all the times ANgel made fun of Alastor's obvious disinterest in anything sexual or 'filthy'.

"Indeed." He opened one of his eyes, looking over to you while he hummed quietly. "I'm thinking, dearest. What would shock and confuse our dear fellow the most, I ask, than the thought of you and I ... dallying? No doubt his world would crumble."

You furrowed your brow. "Dallying?" You thought you didn't hear him right, utterly lost at his growing grin.

***

You were fidgeting with the loose thread of your sweater as you waited in the supply closet for Alastor to return. It was a decent sized space, stacked with spare sheets, cleaning supplies and a lot of various things that were used or needed throughout the hotel. It was the perfect location for your newest prank, away from any prying or judgmental eyes - as long as no one was wandering through the hallway, except of course, for the intended victim: Angel.

"Dearest, we got the first act running along smoothly, and now, it's time for act two!". With a hushed click the door fell shut, and your heart gave a wild thump of excitement. You shifted slightly as you heard him slip next to you in the dim darkness, turning up the act and forcing a smile that was hopefully bright enough to distract him from the redness of your cheeks and the quick beat of your heart.

The last days were filled with what Alastor had called 'prep work'. His plan: Getting Angel to think you and Alastor would do 'the deed', an attempt to shatter his world view and really get under his skin. So, the both of you played it up by the daily, and whenever you were in the vicinity of the spider demon, you had been underhandedly seductive, upped on flirty comments, subtle touches and some of the worst, most suggestive innuendos you had ever made and had to hold a cringing chuckle every time you saw Alastor's comically pained expression when his back was turned to a more and more confused looking Angel.

Today would be the final part of the plan. Hidden in the supply closet, you and Alastor would wait for Angel to pass the room on his way back from the hotel's gym, as he always did on fridays, unaccompanied and ready to hear your and the radio demons carefully conducted script - something so utterly lewd that it would probably even make his boss Valentino blush. The key, in Alastor's words, was to deliver your fake sexual activities just loud enough so that he would walk past and listen and - well, you guessed you were supposed to shock him to the core.

"My shadows told me he's about to exit the gym. So, are you ready, sweetheart?", Alastor spoke with a wicked, glowing grin as you eyed the door, listening for the soft shuffle and clunking footsteps. "Showtime. Now..." His voice was low, almost sultry in its timber and proximity. You could barely react, and even though you felt nervous, you closed your eyes and tried to calm yourself enough to remember what you had to say.

The footsteps were getting louder, and you took a deep breath before shooting Alastor a glance, sly smile in place as you nodded. Go time.

"Alastor...", you sighed, almost cringing at the sound of your voice, too breathy for your own liking, and not at all sexy. This better would work... "Not here, we can't..."

"You just have to be quiet, pet...", Alastor retorted, and your face instantly burned red. It didn't sound like... that when the both of you put it into writing, not at all. Your chest clenched and heat rushed through your body, but you had to focus, had to see this through...

You struggled to hold yourself together, remembering your next line as you heard the steps outside slowing down.

"You're doing great, darling, keep it up...", he whispered, his smile tight and eyes narrow. His voice rose, making Angel on the other side of the door freeze in his steps. "Then I'll better have to keep that pretty mouth occupied."

It took all your willpower to suppress the shiver that wanted to run down your spine, instead you returned his grin with your own weak one. Keep it up echoed in your head, and you decided you were in for a penny, in for a pound: You moaned loud and sinfully while you kept your gaze locked with his before letting out a high-pitched squeak of fake-surprise, biting your lip.

You could hear Angel shuffle and listened as his ear must've neared the thin door. Your heart beat in your throat, excited to have caught both of their interests - Angel's, as well as Alastor's alike. It was as if something in the other demon snapped and he seemed to be, dare you say it, into your little act. There was a glazed over look in the crimson of his eyes, staring at you in an unreadable expression.

"My, my, aren't we eager...", Alastor mumbled, almost more to himself as his claws found their way to your hips.

"I... I'm...", you trailed off. Shit, the script, he was going off the script. What the fuck was next again?

He tilted his head slightly, pulling you closer, so close his nose bumped into yours and his lips were near enough that they nearly grazed your heated cheeks. "Al.. what are you doing?", you whispered frantically, realizing with sudden excitement the hard, long object pressing into you was NOT an ill-placed broomstick. It was like a jolt, electricity running from where his body was flush against yours, flooding your lower body and rendering you into a flustered mess. He scraped one of his claws along your throat, breathing a little to heavy to it being just an act. His hips snapped in a sudden, desperate movement, making you and him both groan at the intensity of his erection rubbing against your heated core.

Wait. His erection?

You panicked - This wasn't how this was supposed to go, but yet your traitorous body felt like it was burning hot, the sound of Alastor's strained sighs music to your ears. You wondered if he could feel the slight wetness from your core against his pants, feeling almost faint but nonetheless unreasonably aroused at the thought. His chuckle vibrated low and dark in his throat, eyes flashing as you panted helplessly against him. Your own legs began to tremble with the tension and the intensity of his movements, which now had you caged between his solid body and the wall behind you.

"I'm going to ruin you, darling...", he uttered, the pet name thick like honey leaving his lips, and you choked a breath as you moaned and felt his smile press against your jaw, traveling to your mouth, "I'm going to pick you apart, my darling dearest, and you will beg for me not to stop, never to stop until I make you forget to say anything but my name."

He was out of it. You were out of it. You forgot about the script, about the whole idea of the prank. You couldn't even care about the mumbled words that the listening Angel must've said from the other side of the door, because you were completely captured, overwhelmed by the turn of events, overwhelmed by the tall, dark demon pressed up against you who was moving his hands hungrily over your body, devouring you whole with his piercing eyes and cock throbbing against your groin, eliciting desperate whimpers with the slow movements of his hips against yours.

In a matter of seconds, Alastor had reached down to free his cock from his clothed restraints. You let out a broken whimper as he shoved up your skirt, running the smooth surface of his claw against your clothed entrance, pushing the wetness that was dripping through the thin barrier away, not a single care in the world about the sticky dampness his fingers were covered in. His mouth left yours to let his tongue lick down your neck and shoulders, teeth catching your pulse and sucking, bruising your tender skin.

“Only I am going to get to feel you, make you keen, scream and moan under my fingers and lips and cock, you hear me?”

You couldn't reply as he pushed into you, hard and in one, relentless strike. Your heart was beating impossibly fast, so fast you thought it was about to break, and the sharp pleasure mixed with pain was mind numbing and made the stars behind your shut eyes explode.

"My perfect. little. frivolous. pet."

Every word was a thrust, deeper and deeper until you couldn't take it anymore and wailed out his name in a wanton cry, so sudden and urgent that even Alastor looked shocked and ecstatic in surprise. The tension rose and exploded, and you clenched and pulsed and shivered around his shaft, feeling every inch inside of you and trying so hard to remember how to breathe. He growled into your shoulder and leaned his forehead against your neck, pulling you onto his length in sharp, hard jerks that send sparks down your body. The warmth of his cock was unreal and incredible as he stretched you again and again, a pleased hum escaping his lips and it going straight to your head.

"A-Alastor... fuck, I'm so... so close..."

His grip tightened, a vicious thrust, hitting you so deep that you threw your head back, chanting his name in desperate mewls. Every fiber of your being was tingling, an indescribable pressure building up from deep inside you, erasing your mind.

He made true to his word.

You truly forgot anything else, the only thing on your mind, his name, spilled from your lips in sync with his accelerating thrusts.

***

"I'm telling yo', they're not fucking."

Angel pulled the cat harder, almost running back to the corridor with the cursed supply closet.

"Husk, I'm a fuckin' porn actor. I know how a good shag sounds like. They're makin' the beast with two backs, and holy shit are they goin' at it."

"The beast with two back's?" Husk rolled his eyes, and groaned in exasperation as Angel jumped excitedly and shuffled the other nearer towards the closet, listening intensely.

"Don't yo' get it? It's their schtick, their sick lil' past-time-pleasure. They were bein' too quiet the last few days. And yo' falling for their dumb joke, hook, line and sinker."

Angel hesitated, eyes shifting between his grumpy looking lover and the closed door, from which he could still hear desperate moans and dull thumps. He had been so sure, but now he was uncertain. No not uncertain. He was sure.

Sure that Husk was right. Alastor and you were screwing with him, majorly so. You were playing some stupid prank on him, like you did with all the others, and now he fell for it, too! The last one standing, the only one you hadn't gotten to.

"Those sleazy, scheming bastards!"

Another loud thump made Angel turn on his heels, suddenly delighted with mischief. The last thing he heard was your voice, crying out Alastor's name in an utterly outrageous moan. He reached out in smug victory, grabbing the doorknob and twisting it with steady hands

“You prankster-bitches can cut the fuckin' act, I didn't fall for...”

A screeching, ear-ripping howl burst from the opened door. Angel shrieked in fear as black tentacles sprouted out of the frame, grabbing him and a terrified Husk, trowing them out of the corridor in a wide, long and forceful swoop. The two demons crashed against the sofas of the foyer, making them fall and tumble over. Husk groaned, fighting his way out of the mass of pillows he was buried under, while Angel was panting on the backrest of one toppled three seater, one of his hands on his heaving, fluffy chest while the other three were buried in the upholstery.

“Huh. I stand corrected.” Husk said, shaking his head at the still furiously squirming tentacles retreating into the darkness of the corridor.

“F-fucking told y-'ya!”, Angel stuttered, frozen in place. “Do me a fava', yeah? Fix me a drink so strong it makes me forget what Al's dick looks like.”

[hyunjins-orange-slice-too]

well, it worked

fuck the sadness out of me 3racha - written part 2

part 1 • masterlist • credit to op

genre: smut! smut with feelings, angst for han

word count: ~4.7k

warnings: crying, praise, pet names, daddy kink, size kink if you squint, oral (f and m receiving), unprotected sex, inexperienced han, han’s is very sad (this is your warning. not a happy ending.)

an: this is for @httpdwaekki 💕 and because i really wanted to write the chan one. hehe i debated on posting this after the whole anon debacle but i really like how it turned out and i wanted to share it. (sorry chans is so long 😬 that’s my mans yk?)

♡ chan ♡

he was driving as quickly and as safely as he could to your place. he finally had the chance to be with you. though it were under less than ideal circumstances, he didn’t care. it wouldn’t matter. one night with him and you would see. and he didn’t mean that in a ‘oh my dick is so good you’ll fall in love with me’ type of way. he just meant that he knows how to treat you right. to make you feel beautiful and small and fragile. to make you see yourself in the same way that he sees you. he had been waiting for this chance for years now. “i can not fuck this up.” he said to himself, pulling into a parking spot and getting out of his car, the fluorescent lights softly humming overhead.

he was already hard in his pants from the texts, and he tried to hide it as best he could as he walked from his car to your door. but the thought of you asking to call him daddy had his cock pressing painfully into his zipper. he took a deep breath and knocked gently on your door.

after a few moments he could hear your soft footsteps patting to the door. the lock turned, the door cracked open, and your cute face peered around the door frame. once you confirmed it was chan, you opened the door all the way and let him in. he shut the door behind himself before turning to you. you were looking everywhere but at him, embarrassed of the situation you were in, but not wanting to change it. your cheeks were red and tear stained, your eyes puffy. chan leaned down slightly to take your face in his hands.

“oh princess, look at your pretty face.” he said softly. your eyes finally met his, so full of love and a little bit of worry. “all stained with tears.. i hate to see you like this.” he said.

your hands found their way up to his, gently wrapping around his wrists. you already felt better with just him being here, looking at you like this, acknowledging your pain. you weren’t sure if this was the best decision, but you needed him. you knew he would make the ache in your chest go away, if only for a little while. and you hoped that it wouldn’t be replaced with a new ache. the ache of loosing a best friend. your eyes welled up again, tears threatening to spill over.

“hey hey hey..” he shushed, rubbing your cheeks gently. “baby don’t cry. i’m here to help, yeah?”

you nodded weakly, sniffling softly. “i just— i just don’t want to loose y-you.”

“sweet girl i’m not going anywhere.” he reassured you. “even if you decide you want me to leave right now. even if i stay and we do this and then you decide you never want to do it again. i will always be here for you. okay? don’t worry baby.”

“okay..” you agreed. “can you kiss me, daddy?” you asked, your big, innocent, glassy eyes looking up at him.

his body tensed, his hands that were still cradling your face, tightened their grip ever so slightly. he closed his eyes for just a moment, and took a deep breath. like a vampire who is doing his best to hold himself back from biting you.

“are you sure this is what you want?” he asked, his eyes begging you to not turn him away now. you nodded, a smile already threatening your cheeks. “we can stop at any time. okay? you just tell me and i’ll stop.” you nodded again.

he leaned in, slowly closing the distance between the two of you. his breath fanned across your skin, your breath hitching in anticipation. “oh, princess..” he whispered before his lips pressed gently to yours. his lips were plush and pillowy against your own. the kisses just gentle pecks at first until he ran his tongue along your bottom lip. a small gasp escaped you and he smiled before slipping his tongue into your mouth. your back hit the wall of your apartment, while his tongue danced against yours. your hands balled in his black t-shirt, wanting to pull him closer. needing him closer. but the only way for him to be closer, was to be inside you. his body was pressed snugly against yours, your sensitive breasts pressing against his chest, his erection pressing against your hip.

he reached down and scooped you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, his lips never leaving yours. he knew your apartment like the back of his hand, having spent countless nights here over the course of your friendship, though never a night like this. he expertly maneuvered his way into your bedroom, gently laying you on your bed. his kisses traveled down to your jaw now, his tongue licking at your skin. you were a panting mess underneath him, his brown eyes peeking up at you from under his mess of curls.

his fingers grazed your tummy under your pajamas as he gently lifted your shirt up and off, discarding it on the floor. your nipples pebbled with the sudden coolness of the air. his thumbs quickly found them, flicking gently back and forth.

“you’re so beautiful, baby.” he whispered against your skin, kissing your sternum. “been dreaming of this for so long.” he used his hand to guide your left nipple into his mouth. his tongue circling and his teeth nibbling. you couldn’t control the soft noises falling past your lips, you fists gripping onto your sheets. “oh your little whimpers..” he kissed across your chest to your other nipple. “you sound so pretty..” his tongue pressing flatly against your nipple before swirling around it. while his tongue was busy, so were his fingers. they danced up and down your sides, and down to the waistband of your pajama shorts. he alternated between teasing with his fingertips across your skin, to squeezing your hips firmly, in a way that made you feel so small under him.

he detached himself from your nipple, his mouth moving down your tummy, leaving a damp trail. he looked up at you as his fingers hooked your pajama shorts, pulled them down, and threw them carelessly onto the floor. he kissed down over your mound, his fingertips rubbing down the skin of your thighs. he gently gripped and nudged your legs apart. sitting back on his heels, kneeling in between your legs, his grip on your thighs tightened as he saw your pussy for the first time, your arousal glistening in the dim light.

“princess..” he exhaled. “do you have any idea how stunning you are?” he asked. though he wasn’t expecting an answer. your cheeks flushed with color. “do you have any idea what you do to me?” he palmed his painful erection through his jeans.

his fingers moved to slowly graze up and down your labia, sending goosebumps all over your body. his index finger dipped into your wetness, gathering some and swirling it around your clit. you writhed underneath him, silently begging for some relief. “my squirmy little baby.” he teased. “are you needy?” you nodded, your whimpers morphing into soft moans which turned into louder moans as he slipped a finger inside you. “what do you want, baby? tell me.”

“w-wa- want you..” you managed to choke out. your brain foggy.

“want me?” his voice had a teasing lilt to it, a smirk on his face. “but you already have me. i’m right here.” he said. he knew exactly what you meant, he just wanted to hear you say it. but you couldn’t. you wanted to scream at him to fuck you. but the connection between your mouth and your brain just wasn’t working properly.

“daddy…” you whined, rolling your hips in search of friction.

he groaned, his eyes briefly falling shut again. he pulled his finger out of you and brought it to his lips. he used his tongue to clean all trace of you from his skin. “fuck, baby. i was going to eat your little pussy but i don’t think i can wait any longer.”

“please.. daddy..” you begged.

he pulled his shirt over his head and discarded it before unbuttoning his pants and sliding them off. he knelt before you, his hair a mess of curls, his cheeks slightly pink, a thin layer of sweat clinging to his chest and abs. you had never seen your best friend in this light before. and holy shit did you like what you saw. you thought your eyes may bulge out of your head. you blinked slowly, trying to contain your reaction. you double checked for drool on your chin.

he brought his hand to his cock, pumping it softly. “do you see this baby? look what you do to me.” his fingers brushed over the precum beading at his tip. “you’re so sexy baby. so tiny and fragile compared to me..” he slapped the head of his cock against your clit, causing you to yelp. he ran it up and down between your lips, gathering your arousal and rubbing it into his skin. “are you ready, sweet girl?” he asked. all you could do was nod, biting your lip in anticipation.

he slowly pushed into you, giving you time to adjust to his size. you both groaned at the feeling, needing more. slowly, inch by inch he seated himself inside you. once he was all the way in, he leaned down and kissed you gently. “is that okay, baby? are you feeling good?” he asked.

“yes..” you breathed. “yes daddy. so good.” you could feel your wetness leaking onto the sheets below you, causing them to stick uncomfortably to your butt.

he threaded his fingers with yours, placing your joined hands above your head. he kissed your jaw and then your neck. “i’m going to start moving now.” he warned.

and he slowly pulled out and then pushed back in. you squeezed his hand, moaning into his ear. “there you go, baby. squeeze daddy’s hand. you’re doing so good.” he started moving a little faster, the wet sounds filling the room. “so tight, baby.. fuck.”

you could feel that familiar feeling, your walls fluttering around him. “are you gonna cum baby?” he asked. “you can do it. taking me so well.. gonna cum all over my cock, huh baby? can you do that for me?”

fuck you were so close. right on the edge about to fall over. “you’re so perfect, baby. fu-fuck.” he was getting close too. you squeezed his hand, and the thought of him feeling so good because of you, was what pushed you over.

“daddy..” you mewled, your pussy clamping down on him, your body convulsing.

he continued pumping into you, helping you through it but also chasing his own high. his lips pressed to your neck, his tongue licking your skin.

“shit..” he whined. his hips stuttering. “you feel so good. you take my c-cock so g-good. been dreaming about this.. fuck”

“daddy are you gonna cum too?” you asked. your voice slowly returning after finding your release.

“fuck i love it when you call me that.”

“daddy please can i have your cum?” you were teasing him to help him finish but also, you really desperately wanted it. to know that you were the one doing this to him. that you were good enough to make a man like chan feel this way.

“fuck, i love you.” he said. and your heart swelled. your eyes filled with tears, the words hanging on your lips, wanting to say them. i love you too. but you couldn’t. your feelings were heightened in this moment and you wanted to make sure you meant them before you said them. but in this moment, you felt like you meant them. a tear made it over your waterline and down to your cheek.

he suddenly pulled out of you, spilling his seed onto your tummy. he looked so beautiful, pumping himself above you to get every last drop. when he finally came down he leaned in, taking your face in his hands again and kissing you gently. he could feel the dampness under his palm. “princess, are you crying?” he asked, his voice laced with worry. “what did i do? did i hurt you?”

you shook your head no. searching for a way to tell him they were good tears. that you felt so incredibly warm and loved in that moment that you couldn’t help it.

“is this because of what i said..? baby im sorry it just slipped out.”

you shushed him, pulling his lips back to yours. you kissed him softly. “it’s okay.” you told him. “i just feel.. good.” he smiled at that. “i feel so loved and.. cherished.”

he kissed you again. “so it worked.” he said, standing up and going to the bathroom to get a cloth to clean you up.

you were confused. “what worked?”

he gently wiped at your skin with the damp cloth. “i fucked the sadness out you.” he chuckled.

•••

♡ changbin ♡

he grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder, nodding bye to the guys as he opened the door. they had asked if he wanted to go get something to eat and were shocked when he said no. changbin, saying no to food? what’s gotten into him they had asked. but what they didn’t know is he had asked you to go for food and you had denied him. instead telling him how down you felt. and all thoughts of food left his mind. because you needed him. you were sad. and you may have suggested something else, joking or not, he wasn’t passing up this opportunity with you to go get food with the guys instead. they would understand.

he made his way across town, which wasn’t too difficult at this hour. it was early in the morning and there was little to no traffic. now that he thought about it, he was surprised that you were awake. he hoped that you weren’t feeling too sad to sleep. just the thought of that broke his heart. he was determined to make it better for you. he would do anything he could to make you smile.

your apartment complex was quiet. he tiptoed up the stairs, doing his best to not disturb your neighbors, knocking quietly on your door. you opened it cautiously. but upon seeing who was at your door, you flung it wide open, excited to see him. but not nearly as excited as he was to see you. stepping inside, he wrapped his arms around you and lifted you off the ground. the door softly closed and latched shut behind him as he gently spun you in a circle, burying his face in your hair.

“my little bunny..” he said, a hint of worry in his voice as he sat you down. he looked down at you, your eyes puffy and bloodshot, cute little sniffles coming from your nose. he petted your head. “are you doing okay today, baby?”

you shook your head no, your bottom lip jutting out into a pout as you tried to hold back more tears. all you had done today was cry and you didn’t want to do it anymore. especially not in front of him.

“do you want to talk about it?” he asked, playfully tapping your pouty lip with his finger. again you shook your head no. he brushed your hair over your ear, not so subtly admiring your neck and collarbones. he leaned down, kissing you cheek softly. “do… you want to kiss about it?” he whispered.

this time, you nodded. and just like the first time he ever kissed you, your stomach filled with butterflies, suddenly feeling nauseous. but all of that faded away once his lips were pressed against yours. his kisses were light. a quick succession of pecks against your mouth, giving you time to change your mind and push him away. but you didn’t, instead grabbing fistfuls of his shirt and pulling him closer to you, deepening the kiss.

his tongue found its way past your teeth as he slowly led you to your bedroom. the backs of your thighs grazing the bed frame as your back hit the mattress. his hands were all over you, pulling at your clothes, squeezing your flesh. he was getting needy, and that’s just the way you liked him. “fuck, bun.” he exhaled, moving his kisses down the length of your neck. his fingertips tickled against the skin of your tummy as they searched for a path to your breasts. they finally found purchase against your nipples, soft whimpers bubbling up from your throat. he lifted your shirt, bunching it up around your collar, exposing your chest to him. he kissed his way down, leaving a trail of fire in his wake.

“wanna eat you.” he mumbled against your tummy. “would that make bunny feel better? having my tongue on her little pussy?”

he didn’t wait for an answer as he continued kissing down, slowly sinking to his knees on your bedroom floor, your panty covered core level with his face. he ran his index finger up and down the soaked fabric. “is that what you want, bunny? can i do that for you?” he asked.

“yes please, bin.” you panted. he hooked his fingers over the elastic of your panties and pulled them down your legs.

“there she is..” he said, almost in awe of you laid bare before him. “so wet.. so pretty.” his finger rubbed soft circles around your clit before he used his hands to spread you open. he licked his lips once before he leaned down and flattened his tongue against you, licking a stripe from the bottom to the top. he hummed in delight before dipping his tongue inside you. you writhed beneath him, unable to keep still with the pleasure he was giving you. he replaced his tongue with his fingers, slowly pumping in and out of you, hitting that perfect spot over and over. his tongue moved to your clit, flicking quickly back and forth.

you could feel it building. it never seemed to take you long when binnie was between your legs. he could tell by the sounds you were making that you were close. “binnie..” you moaned, your body shaking.

“i know, baby.” he said between licks. “feels so good, huh?”

he looked up at you, his eyes hidden behind his glasses, his curly hair falling in his eyes. “are you going to cum, bunny?” he whispered against your clit, his warm breath hitting the dampness of your pussy, sending shivers through your body. you plummeted over the edge, your orgasm hitting you like a truck. your hands threaded in his hair, your legs clamping down around his head, grinding yourself against his face. he loved this. it was his favorite part. seeing you come undone, in such a state of bliss. he loved it. loved you.

and when you slowly came down, he kissed your thighs, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and looked at you with the biggest heart eyes you had ever seen on a man. he almost looked post orgasm even though he was the one delivering the pleasure and not receiving. you couldn’t blame him. you couldn’t wipe this stupid grin off your face, your pussy practically vibrating from the stimulation. he hovered over you, sliding his forearm under your neck, his large bicep next to your face. you turned your head and placed a kiss against the muscle.

“thank you, binnie.” you said, smiling up at him.

“it worked.” he laughed. “look at you smiling.”

you nodded, reaching for him. “now it’s your turn.”

•••

♡ han ♡

he could hear you through the wall, moaning his name. he couldn’t help but think that you sounded so pretty. which made sense, you were so pretty. han had always thought so. but he had accepted his fate as your best friend and nothing more. but was that the case still? he was unsure. he felt in his gut that this was wrong. you literally had been dumped only hours before and now you wanted han to sleep with you. it was not a good idea, that’s for sure. but did han care? right now the only thing he could focus on was his cock straining his pants and your muffled moans. he stood up, nervously rubbing his sweaty hands on his pants. his cock softened a little with the nervousness of what was about to happen. but then you said his name again. “hannie..”

he put one foot in front of the other, exiting his room and walking the two steps it took to get to your door. he knocked gently but then felt stupid. you obviously knew he was coming, why did he knock? “hannieeeee” you whined. fuck. his hands were shaking as he turned the doorknob, your door creaking open. he peered inside and his mouth fell open at what he saw. you were on your bed, completely nude, laying on your back, with two fingers pumping slowly in and out of your pussy. the wet sounds of your arousal filled his ears now that he was in the same room as you.

he didn’t know what to do. he just stood there awkwardly, involuntarily grabbing himself through his pants. han wasn’t a virgin, but he was inexperienced and you knew that. it always kind of turned you on. the thought of teaching him exactly what you wanted, what you liked. and helping him find what he likes. you removed your hand from your pussy and brought it to your lips, licking yourself clean.

“are you just going to stand there?” you asked.

han swallowed the lump in his throat before cautiously making his way to your bed. you got up on your knees, bringing yourself to his eye level and reached out to grab a fistful of his shirt, pulling him closer. you gently took his round cheeks in the palms of your hands and leaned in to place a soft kiss on his mouth. he melted under the touch of your lips, his knees almost buckling under him. your tongue entered his mouth, he tasted like sour candy. your hands started exploring his body, sliding up under his shirt to feel his tummy and chest, and then moving down to palm his erection. he sighed into your mouth.

you moved to pull his sweatpants down, but before they could make it over his hips, he stopped you. his eyes are huge and glassy, his lips slightly swollen from kissing. “are you sure about this?” he asks.

you move to kiss him again. “of course i’m sure, hannie” you whisper against his mouth. you pull his pants down, freeing his cock. you take it in your hand and slowly start pumping him. he groans.

“it just- fuck- it’s just, i really like you yn” he says, breathless.

“i really like you too.” you say, kissing down his neck, before pulling his shirt up and over his head, discarding it on the floor. his skin was soft, his muscles delicately defined. you kissed down his chest, over his tattoo and down to his tummy.

“yn.. i mean..” he groans and throws his head back as you lick at the little patch of hair under his belly button. you lay on your stomach, his cock in your face. you look up at him.

“what is it, sungie?” you ask, pumping him slowly, teasing.

“this means something to me.. you know?” he says. “it’s more than sex for me.”

“i know.” you say, before you take him into your mouth. and he’s forgotten what words are. as you take him down your throat, he forgets where he is. his hands thread into your hair, holding it back so it doesn’t get in your way and so he can see your pretty face more clearly. you look up at him as you choke on him, spit running down your chin. it’s all so.. dirty. and he can feel the heat in his cheeks, his skin blushing a furious pink.

“baby.. i’m not going to last if you keep doing that.” he warns you.

you release him with a pop and pull him down to kiss you. his heart is beating a million times a minute as you get on your back again and pull him on top of you. his arms either side of your head, supporting his weight. he kisses you softly, slowly, a juxtaposition to how you were kissing him. your kisses were fevered and rushed and clashing teeth whereas his are soft and slow, little brushes of his tongue against yours, almost like he’s savoring you. his heart swells as he looks down at you. he wants to remember this moment. the moment that he finally gets to be with you. he wants to memorize every detail of your face and your body. wants to memorize every feeling in his body, the way you feel under his hands. but you interrupt him.

“fuck me hannie.” you say, your voice pleading and desperate.

and well, he couldn’t argue with that.

he wrapped his hand around his cock and lined himself up. he slowly pushed in, taking his time, savoring you and honestly, trying not to bust. you pulled him close in another blazing kiss as you started to rock your hips back and forth, encouraging him to go faster. he was trying to focus on your eyes, your pout, and not focus on the way he could feel your arousal coating his thighs, his balls. no, he couldn’t focus on that or he was definitely going to cum.

you pushed him over, finally deciding he wasn’t going fast enough. now on his back, you straddled him, sinking down on him. he groaned and then you began to bounce on him. riding him as hard as you could, as fast as you could.

“fuck. yn.” he whined. “i’m not going to last. you feel too good.”

you smile. “that’s okay, hannie. you can cum.” he grabs your hips in his hands, squeezing the flesh as he gets closer and closer. “cum for me.” you tell him. and he does. high pitched whines falling past his lips as you feel him twitching inside you, filling you up. his eyes are scrunched shut, his face and lips are pink. you continue to ride him through his orgasm, chasing your own.

he was getting overstimulated now, it was becoming too much but he wanted to hold out for you. you needed to cum too. “are you close baby?” he asked, gently grabbing at your breasts. “are you gonna cum on my cock?”

you close your eyes and throw your head back, moaning as you continue to bounce on him. and that’s when he hears it. he freezes, his eyes go wide and his heart shatters. you don’t notice your mistake, and you keep going. “fuck- i’m close.” you moan. but he can’t do this. he pushes you off of him as gently as he can and he stands, searching for his clothes in the dark room. he’s embarrassed, his soft cock in his hand, he was surrounded by you and he needed to get out of there. your scent was everywhere, coating his skin. tears pricked at his eyes.

“han? what the fuck? i was about to cum.” you scold him.

he turned around quickly, his clothes in one hand, his cock in the other, shielding it from your view. tears were streaming down his cheeks now. “i don’t care.” he said. “you didn’t even notice, did you?”

“notice what?” you ask, confused.

“you moaned his name while you were fucking me.” he spat. “clear as day, unmistakably his name.” he turned to walk toward the door. “i’m such a fucking idiot.” he muttered.

“han, wait!” you called, but he didn’t stop. not even a slight stutter in his stride as he slammed your door behind him, followed a minute later by the bathroom door shutting and the shower turning on.

[kingkatsuki]

— babysitting

Just a silly little piece about Bakugou looking after his nephew when Kirishima and his wife are both working, and him being the cutest little wingman.

Warnings: fluff!, implied!older Bakugou, Bakugou’s behaviour could be construed as stalking but it’s not really, he just proper fancies you.

Pairing: implied!Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader.

Word Count: 2.1k.

“Please, Kats. I promise it won’t be for long, we didn’t realise we were both working this afternoon and I can’t take him on patrol with me—” Kirishima pleaded on the phone.

“I’m busy,” Bakugou replied bluntly.

“Busy doing what?” His best friend almost whined, and Bakugou could tell the hulking tank of a man was pouting on the other side of the line.

“None of your damn business.”

Bakugou didn’t want to admit the real reason he was busy today. It was the same reason he was now busy every day he was off.

A few weeks ago he’d made his way into Musutafu mall on his lunch break to pick up a copy of a new romance book his favourite author had just released. And while he was checking out he noticed you filling up one of the displays near the back of the store, giving him the cutest smile when he’d passed you to leave.

Since that day he’d come back every week on one of his days off, just to get a simple “hey” from you as he bought yet another book. Bakugou was certain he’d soon have so many unread books in his house that he’d have to build an extension to store them, but he couldn’t help it.

And today was going to be the day that he was actually going to talk to you— possibly.

“Can’t you reschedule? It���ll only be for a few hours until I can get off patrol and he can spend the afternoon at the agency with me.”

“What about Mina?” Bakugou offered.

“She’s got that photoshoot with Hero Weekly today, remember?” Of course she fucking does, “And Sero’s out on patrol with me.”

“Denks?” Bakugou was certain he already knew the answer to that one though, as he ran a palm down the length of his face.

“You know I’m not allowed to leave him unsupervised with Denki anymore, Bro.” Kirishima groaned, “The wife still hasn’t forgiven me for them almost setting the kitchen on fire.”

Bakugou couldn’t help but snigger at the memory, the panicked phone call that he’d heard coming through on the central emergency line that there was a fire in Red Riot’s neighbourhood, and when Backdraft had turned up at the scene he’d found a singed Denki standing inside a murky kitchen with some burnt cookies. Kirishima had to replace two cabinet units and the oven after that debacle and it was no wonder his wife no longer trusted Denki as a babysitter.

“Please, man. I already told him, and he’s real excited to spend the day with you.”

Bakugou couldn’t deny he missed spending time with his little nephew, and Kirishima knew his best friend couldn’t deny the pleas of his son. Silently fist pumping the air in relief when Bakugou finally responded on the other end of the phone.

“Fine, I’ll pick him up now.”

“Uncle Kats, let’s get these!” His nephew picked up a water gun from a wire dumpbin of toys outside the toy store, turning around in a crouched motion with eyes squinted as he pretended to shoot Bakugou.

He put his hands up in mock surrender as he grabbed at the plastic barrel, holding it in the air as he took it out of his nephews hands to place it back inside the bin.

“Your parents don’t like you having guns, remember squirt.”

“But what if I need one for protection.”

“You don’t need that shit for protection,” He shook his head, “I’ll be there to protect ya.”

“But wouldn’t it be cool to have a water gun fight outside. It’s summer.” His young nephew whined as Bakugou began to lead him away from the toy store, noticing that your work was approaching on the right side of the mall.

“I’ll talk to them about it.” Bakugou reached down to ruffle his hair as his nephew shouldered his leg wrapping an arm around one thick thigh to squeeze him into a hug in thanks, “How about a book? You like reading, don’tcha?”

“Not really,” He shook his head, immediately making a beeline for the confectionery inside the shop.

“What? Why not.” Bakugou raised a brow before he began to search the store for you, hoping that you weren’t on your lunch break.

You were usually in one of the back aisles around this time of day, tidying the shelves as he pretended to flick through the various hero books that you sold. Like he’d ever actually buy one of them— perhaps the book Miruko had released on unabashedly being yourself despite the critics, or the memoir Edgeshot had put together before he passed away, but never the unofficial Deku books that seemed to line the shelves of your Pro-Hero section and were always on sale. Bakugou snorted when he noticed a large bright red “half off” sticker covering Deku’s face on one.

“It’s too many pages.” His nephew scoffed, picking up a chocolate bar as Bakugou placed a palm on the back of his neck to lead him away from the sweets.

“You just gotta find a book that doesn’t feel like too many pages, that’s all.” He began to walk towards the manga aisle, wondering if there might be something there that would interest the young boy.

“You like reading, uncle Kats?”

“Course I do,” Bakugou scoffed, “Way better than TV. That shit’ll rot your brain.”

He had an entire bookshelf of his favourites lined up at home. All in alphabetical order by author and spines outward facing, a few of his favourite covers turned forward to show off the artwork. Some spines were more worn than others, an indication of the sheer number of times he’d sought comfort in those stories after a long day at work, or a lonely night at home.

“What kinda books do you like?”

Bakugou chewed on the inside of his cheek before answering. It would be so easy to lie and say action or fantasy, certain that half the people who claimed their favourite book was Lord of the Rings or a Game of Thrones had never actually read them. Or the pretentious people who would pretend their favourites were non-fiction books about bettering yourself or hyper-specific topics that would never come up in normal conversation. But there was a part of him that didn’t want to lie to his nephew— the boy was always so open and honest with him, even at his young age.

“Romance.” Bakugou shrugged, leaning forward to pick up one of the new manga books that sat on a top shelf.

“Eww yuck,” Bakugou’s nephew immediately scrunched up his face, making a show of sticking his tongue out in distaste, “I didn’t think you’d like books like that.”

“What did ya think I’d like?”

“I dunno, like action or kicking villain ass.”

“Don’t say ass.” Bakugou frowned, his eyebrows narrowing as he glared down at the young boy.

“But you say it all the time, I hear you.”

“Yeah, because I’m an adult.” Bakugou grinned, “I see enough of that crap when I’m at work, don’t need to read about it too.”

“You say ‘shit’ a lot too.”

“Oi, you little—” Bakugou lost his train of thought the moment he saw you past a corner, words disappearing into nothing as he noticed the same focused look on your face as you sorted through a delivery of new books.

Bakugou was certain you were wearing a new pair of jeans today, or at least a pair he’d never seen before. You looked real good in them. He felt his heartbeat increase when you placed a book back on the shelf, stopping to talk to one of your colleagues as your lips curled in to the prettiest smile, and he couldn’t stop himself as he felt himself beginning to mimic your smiling face.

“Oh,” The kid nudged his thigh, shamelessly standing around the shelves to stare at you, “Is that the real reason why you brought me into a bookstore? Not because you want me to read.”

“What?” Bakugou wasn’t even sure he heard the question as he kept his gaze on you. Feeling his cheeks begin to heat up as you bent over to pick up more books, the angle had your jeans tightening against the curve of your ass and he felt like a pervert for ogling you so shamelessly.

“The lady you’re staring at.” His nephew snorted, pointing over at you “You’re so obvious.”

“Piss— shut up,” Bakugou caught himself, grabbing the kid by the collar of his shirt to tug him back behind the shelves, “I ain’t starin’.”

“Yeah you are!” His nephew sniggered, “You’re giving her the same look my dad gives ma.”

“No I ain’t.” Bakugou almost pouted, crimson eyes still peeking at you through the shelves in the aisle he was down as you continued to place more books onto the table in your section.

“You so are,” His tone increased, and Bakugou had to stop himself from slapping a palm over his big mouth to shut him up, “You’re so obvious. Look how red you are!”

Was he that obvious? Bakugou had done everything he could to be subtle each week when he visited your bookstore, trying to stick to the same shelves and strategically picking up books so he didn’t seem like was just staring at you all the time. Not that it was his fault anyway, you were so fucking pretty.

“Why don’t you go and talk to her?”

“She’s workin’.” Bakugou replied as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. He’d probably said a total of five words to you since he’d started coming into your book store a few weeks ago, and the thought of saying any more had a ferocious pit growing inside his stomach.

“So? If you like her you should tell her,” His nephew tried to nudge him towards you, “That’s why my dad asked my ma out.”

“That’s different,” Bakugou grumbled, “This is…”

Kirishima knew his wife liked him back, they’d been friends long before they started dating so they had a foundation to build upon. This? This was completely new to him, and the thought of being rejected, especially by a girl as pretty as you, petrified him.

“Wait, you read all those romance books and you don’t know how to ask a girl out?”

“I do know,” Bakugou sneered, “I ain’t a total dumbass.”

“So why don’t you?”

Because he was a coward, that’s why.

Not that he’d even be able to talk to you long enough to do it if he could. His throat seized up and his heart practically ricocheted off his rib cage whenever you were near, your perfume lingering in the air as it had him wishing he could bring you into a warm embrace. He’d ask you out one day, just not today—

“Because I told ya, she’s workin’.” Bakugou began to steer his nephew away from the manga section, trying to get him to leave the store.

It had been a bad idea to still come to your store on his day off even though he was babysitting, but he couldn’t help it. The routine he’d settled into on his days off no longer felt complete if they didn’t include you, the small time he’d spend in the bookstore each week were enough to become the highlight of his day. And he would ask you out— just not today.

“Don’t tell your parents about this,” Bakugou grumbled, “Your dads too frigging nosy.”

“Alright,” His nephew practically sung the word, and Bakugou knew exactly what was coming, “But it’ll cost you.”

“I’m sure it’s a crime to blackmail a Pro-Hero, squirt.”

“So I’ll just tell the pretty lady you fancy her then.”

“Fine, fine,” Bakugou snarled, the corner of his lip curling to bare his gum, “Whaddya want?”

“That water gun we saw at the toy store.”

God, Kirishima was gonna kill him.

“Fine.” Bakugou groaned, walking towards the cash register to pay for the candy that he’d picked up.

“But you have to get one too so we can play together, alright?”

Two guns. Kirishima’s wife would definitely kill him before he even attempted to sweet talk his best friend.

“I was going to say the loser has to tell that girl from the bookstore that you like her, but you’ll probably lose because you’re old.”

“Oi, you cheeky little shit,” He ruffled his nephew's messy black hair, “Watch who you’re callin’ old, squirt. I’ll kick your ass and ask her out.”

[snakeredbirdbatkatana]

I will be your Blade Point Me

Loyalty was a trait Janet Drake respected above all others.

It can give you power, fame, money to have someone's loyalty was to have their life.

Tim has always given his all. His people whatever they need they have. May it be his mind, his skills, or even his weapons.

If Dick Grayson demanded the shirt off his back he would remain naked till the end of his days.

Very few times has anyone actually used it the first to test it was Jason.

"Hey Jay.. What's up you never call?"

Tim's phone is always ringing from Wayne Enterprises to his assorted friends he can't remember it being silent. Yet the shock when HighWay to Hell started blaring almost sent him into cardiac arrest.

"Need a favor. Think you could meet me at that safe house you keep pretending not to break into?"

"Yah no problem also it's not breaking in when you leave the window unlocked. Give me ten."

~

Jason doesn't do favors. He would rather die again than ever ask for shit.

When it comes to Tim though he's not an idiot. During his return to Gotham he researched, knew everything about him from his favorite color to when he fucking peed.

Part of his research specifically including who trained the third Robin. Nevermind that watching the kid fight for more than ten minutes gives it away.

Lady Shiva, Ra's just to name a few. He moves almost exactly the same as Cass. Hides in the shadows better than Damian. The whole creepy debacle with Mr. Old as Fuck just furthered Jason hypothesis.

Baby Bird, Bruce's prized protege isn't none lethal.

"I need you to kill someone."

~

Tim in the back of his mind expected it.

Jason for all he is exactly like Bruce doesn't respond the same. To him protection is blood soaked, a knife to the throat is a greeting. Kindess was shrouded and wasn't offered without losing a part of yourself.

"Joker I'm assuming?"

~

He expected a bit of a fight maybe a lecture at least for him to pretend, not whatever it is Replacement is doing.

"He hasn't broken out of Arkham in months haven't heard shit and I hear your in the same business as me nowadays. What you say about helping a brother out?"

~

He wonders if Jason is aware of how his voice cracked. The pleading that was heard the unspoken because I can't. Tim couldn't imagine looking Jason in the eye and saying no. Watching your son bend and demanding he break.

"Hate to burst your bubble, but I already did, I know you think the worst of me but I wasn't gonna let your murderer keep kicking his feet."

He tosses the drive he's been sitting on almost three months before heading back to the window.

"I know we got our shit Jay but your my brother. This is something you needed to be able to sleep at night. You shouldn't feel like you have to beg. I honestly thought you had known and didn't want to acknowledge it."

~

Jason can't breathe as he shuts his computer. Thirty hours of torture his baby brother broke the Joker in ways that turned his stomach.

He climbs into bed his eyes shutting sleeping without a nightmare for the first time in years.

He can't ever repay Tim nothing will ever be enough but he is gonna do everything to try.

He wonders if Ra's might need the same treatment?

[realizinau]

HI GUYS UHH- So while i'm pondering the next post, time for filler posts again yippie!

I FINALLY MADE AN OC. Took me long enough sheeesh. Anyway this is Bailee Bumblebee, last few images has @iidgm's wonderful THE Roxie Reedcycle

He was made after the Catnap toy recall as a sort of damage control. Not necessarily a replacement, just a "hey look at our new environmentalist character! Wow bees are so good for the environment and they're hardworking and you should totally trust our new bee character"

But apparently they didn't learn from the Catnap debacle since Bailee plushies had something similar to the red smoke, except it was more meant to cause relaxation and happiness. The side effects of it were less obvious, that being short term memory loss, so it flew under the radar for the most part. Must be that chamomile scent of the plushies eh?

In the realizin au he'd be a cool dude. He's like in the middle of Catnap and Dogday energy wise. Bit of an ambivert, likes people but needs his space. Excitable but not hyper, loyal and independant, all that good stuff. Though he does have memory issues and that's entirely due to that different smoke he has. Woops

Within the game, I. Okay so I drew what he might look like if he was in the actual game, and it's under the cut so I don't jumpscare anyone LMAO

He would be a bastard in game. Count your memories cus you'll forget some of em

[thechekhov]

thoughts on the huge OGL debacle around DnD at the moment?

mmmmmMMMMMM BOI

I was going to be holding off on commenting until something was confirmed by WotC because I hoped to get more info but. I think we basically got what we need. 

For those who don’t know - the CONTEXT:

Earlier last month there was a leak that made the DnD community peek up out of their little holes like a bunch of meerkats hearing a stampede. Y’see, currently, Wizards of the Coast (a company owned by Hasbro, a corporate giant in board-games) is working on a new DnD version that is meant to replace 5e (5th edition of DnD, the most current one). They’re calling it One DnD, and it’s in play-test right now. But there’s a problem. Along with new stuff, they were apparently planning to revise the OGL - the Open Gaming License which had been a staple of the DnD Era since 2000.

The OGL 1.0 was essentially an open world ticket for third-party creators to use DnD game mechanics to build worlds, create monsters, and expand upon the creative base that was DnD. In 2008 they attempted to publish 4th edition DnD under a different, less open gaming license, which ended up severely hurting their overall standing with the community. When they published 5e, they returned to the OGL and DnD has gained traction with the public thanks to various gaming groups (such as Critical Role) rising to fame. Because of the OGL, many people have made adventures for 5e DnD, making monster manuals compatible with the game, and basically expanding on a huge, growing world. There have been kickstarters for new adventures, new compendiums, etc, which were an incredible creative sandbox for just about anyone who wanted to try their hand at creating.

And now it seems like they fucked it up. 

A leak made it clear that WotC is working on OGL 1.1 - which is basically a giant middle finger to everything the original was. They are now demanding royalties from anyone creating new content if they make over 50kᶜᵒʳʳᵉᶜᵗᵉᵈ 750k a year from their creations - which in and of itself isn’t super unreasonable.... except for the fact that they can lower this number at any point. 

ALSO with the new OGL (1.1) WotC would OWN the rights to anything made using any of their content (including homebrew made by creators - yes, they would own settings/character just because those adventures use their system) indefinitely, demand they receive financial reports from anyone making 50k or more.

What’s more, they reserve the right to change their own license at any point, with only 30 days notice. (Which basically means that if at any point they decide to demand recompense from people making more than, say, 20k from their little homebrewed setting in 5e, they can do that with nary a month’s warning.) 

“...according to attorneys consulted for this article, the new language may indicate that Wizards of the Coast is rendering any future use of the original OGL void, and asserting that if anyone wants to continue to use Open Game Content of any kind, they will need to abide by the terms of the updated OGL, which is a far more restrictive agreement than the original OGL..." (source)

So as you can imagine, for the past few weeks, the entire DnD community and the ttrpg community at large have been gearing up for either a fight, a mass exodus, or both. It would not be the first time. 

And then, just recently, we had another comment, this time from inside. An email was sent out, which has been evidently confirmed by one of the recipients as true, describing what is happening inside of WotC. 

[I'm an employee at WotC currently working on and with business leaders on the health of the product line. If you want I can provide proof of this.I'm sending this message because I fear for the health of a community I love, and I know what the leaders at WOTC are looking at:

They are briefly delaying rollout of OGL changes due to the backlash.

Their decision making is based entirely on the provable impact to their bottom line

Specifically they are looking at DDB subscriptions and cancellations as it is the quickest financial data they currently have.

They are still hoping the community forgets, moves on, and they can still push this through

I have decided to reach out because at my time in WotC I have never once heard management refer to customers in a positive manner, their communication gives me the impression they see customers as obstacles between them and their money, the DDB team was first told to prepare to support the new OGL changes and online portal when they got back from the holidays, and leadership doesn’t take any responsibility for the pain and stress they cause others. Leadership's first communication to the rank and file on the OGL was 30 minutes on 1/11/23, This was the first time they even tried to communicate their intentions about the OGL to employees, and even in this meeting they blamed the community for over-reacting.I will repeat, the main thing this leadership is looking at is DDB subscription cancellations.Hope your day goes well,PS will be copying and pasting this message to other community leaders]

(source)

As for my comment in all of this? 

I won’t pretend to be a local expert in legal terminology. Others can probably parse the full leak far better, and I don’t think there is anything to be gained by running around in a panic and screaming...

However. 

The fact of the matter is, Hasbro/WotC are shooting themselves in the foot. I don’t believe they have the right to destroy the original license. Make a new one for OneDnD? Sure, knock yourself out. Try it, see how popular it’ll be. But destroying the community-driven 5e will do only that - destroy it. They will not be gaining any money from the fans which are already plenty used to supporting small-level creators first and large companies second. It’s a supremely counter-culture move which will eat them from the inside out. 

The only ones that I feel for are Critical Role - who originally played in Pathfinder and then switched to 5e and paired up with DnD Beyond.............and are now being screwed over because they’re likely locked in a contract with WotC and are contractually obligated to not speak out negatively against the changes. 

In my heart of hearts, I kinda hope that their tablets all mysteriously ‘break’ for the next few games and they go back to pen and paper instead of barking out DnD Beyond ads as they’re expected to do. But I don’t know if that’s something they can afford to risk. 

(.....though hell, I hope they try to afford it. They have a community that will stand behind them, and that community has MONEY. We won’t know until we know, though, and I know that there are legal repercussions that may go beyond a simple income slap on the wrist.)

Personally, here’s my two cents: 

I think people should cast a vote with their money.

 Cancel your DnD Beyond subscription.

Don’t give any more money to Hasbro or Wizards. Keep playing whatever 5e games you want, but do it using third-party digital character sheets, OR just go old school and do pen and paper. Let me know if you need sources for it. 

Don’t buy the Players Handbook, leave DnD Beyond behind, don’t engage with One DnD. There are resources out there that let you play the game that also don’t require you giving money to corporations that are only here to fuck around and find out. You want an adventure module but don’t want to bow down to the dragon sitting on its hoard? Hit me up. I’ll give you some alternatives. 

Hell, I myself will be looking into Pathfinder 2e because I’ve heard good things, and if I need to switch any future games to a different system because Fountry VTT or Roll20 will stop offering the 5e presents, it’ll be a very good alternative. Paizo just came out with a statement that they will write their own version of the OGL which will keep the spirit of the open game alive, and Kobold Press is gearing up with their own stuff. 

I won’t be throwing out my own games, and I don’t feel there’s a need to stop playing 5e. I have a Curse of Strahd game to finish, and that game belongs to me and my group now. We don’t need the module - it needs us. 

... all that is simply to say - Wizards may soon be realizing that when you live on the Coast... pirates are never far. 

(edited thanks to corrections from @magpiesarefluffy )

[nothingelsematterswrites]

why logan isn't getting replaced at imola, a breakdown

(aka a breakdown so my fellow logan girlies (gn) don't break down)

I've seen this getting around, with a little traction and some people panicking a bit so let's discuss.

Joe Saward has not been a reliable source of transfer news for some time. Let's be real. A lot of this is gaining traction because Saward is "a 35 year accredited F1 journalist". And this is true, he has long experience in F1 and is accredited in the paddock. But it has been many, many years since he was accurate about driver market predictions.

You have to be eighteen to get a superlicence (thanks, Max!). Antonelli does not turn 18 until August. For him to be granted a superlicence in time for Imola, the FIA would have to issue an exemption. If Antonelli was carving up F2 it'd be one thing. But he's been far from convincing so far, and it hasn't just all been Prema. He is an F2 rookie - and he looks like it.

James Vowles has already said that Antonelli to Williams next year is not a given, because Williams has its own juniors - of which Logan is one. Now I know James has been in the bad books with plenty of us since the whole chassis debacle in Melbourne but I do believe him on this. He is quite keen to establish that Williams is not a feeder team for Mercedes and that has been the board's position for some time too (remember their angry denunciation when the rumour was that Oscar was going to replace Latifi at Silverstone?).

James Vowles still believes in Logan. Now I know some of you will be claiming this is doubtful, but I do believe it to be true. In the Japan Vowles Verdict he was warm in his praise for Logan's race pace and early stint - to the point his voice literally changed tone while answering the question. He was absolutely effusive in his praise for Logan after the Melbourne debacle. I do genuinely think that James wants to keep him.

Bringing in a driver change mid-season is incredibly disruptive - you don't do it unless you are certain you're getting a better deal out of it. Last year Alpha Tauri brought in Daniel halfway through the year. The main reason for this was because he was a fairly immediate upgrade to de Vries. But even if you're scornful of Daniel's pace, the other reason they wanted him was for his feedback and car development ability, which AT were pretty vocal that they found invaluable. Bringing in an extremely green, unprepared rookie who has barely worked with the team would be a recipe for instability, morale issues, and more broken bits, which is the absolute last thing Williams needs.

Toto Wolff can't offer James Vowles a big enough incentive to take his junior. Let's cut to the chase on this: to insinuate that James would take Antonelli just because Wolff asked is a pretty big insult to James. He's not Wolff's lapdog. They clearly respect one another and have a personal relationship outside of the sport, but that doesn't mean he'll just do whatever Toto wants - he didn't get to be team principal that way. So Toto would need to offer James an incentive. But what can he offer that James actually needs? Williams aren't broke any more, so money isn't going to cut it. And Williams already run the Mercedes engine, so Toto can't convince him with that. What Williams actually needs - the cultural and procedural overhaul that James has begun - Toto cannot help with.

tl;dr keep cool and keep the faith, logan fans. there's still plenty of time left in our ride.

[elfiewhore]

Mommy domme elf story

Hello my dears and darlings! Finally, the long promised elf mommy domme story is here! Or at least, the first two chapters. As I began writing I realised that this idea had a firm hold on my mind and I want to write a slow, lewd and enticing tale. So that means this will be part 1 of ? - The first two chapters.

Please feel free to give me any feedback and/or tell me what you'd like to see next! This story is written from the perspective of the reader as the member of an adventuring party. The gender and name of the protagonist is purposefully left vague which, while it does mean some specific descriptions will be a little nonspecific, hopefully means that you can easily identify yourself in the story <3 This story is strictly 18+ and contains/will contain content including but not limited to: Humiliation, peeing, diapers, AB/DL, gfd, age regression, crossdressing(depending on how you identify), chastity and monsterfucking. All that out of the way, without further adieu I give you the first two chapters of my as-yet-unnamed story!

Chapter 1: An unexpected parting “I’m afraid I cannot continue along this path. To be quite frank you are all far too reckless. The strain it places upon me is far greater than any I have faced before. I wish you well, but I must depart.” That was the last words of your party’s healer, a priestess sworn to a god of healing. She was your last resort, having had to beg for the mercy of the church to provide her services free of charge. And she wasn’t wrong. Your party are notably reckless, charging headlong into combat without a second thought. This devil-may-care attitude had at first earned you some renown, as your bravado led to taking on the most dangerous of missions posted in the Adventurer’s guild. Slaying harpies, undead, and even a gryphon! The stuffed head of which is now resting within the guilds’ storage as collateral for your replacement arms and armour after the last debacle. Not that it was your fault, mind! You were always good. You listened to the numerous healers that had come and gone through your party. Standing where they wished, protecting them, ferrying potions. You were always their favourites, it wasn’t fair that the others always dragged you down. But you couldn’t leave either, the reputation stuck. You sent out subtle enquiries to other famous bands only to be rejected at each turn. Even the less reputable groups required steep entry fees as ‘insurance’ should they require costly resurrection magicks. Truly it was a terrible situation. And now here you were sitting in the foyer of the guild. The wooden walls of this esteemed establishment groaning under the weight of trophies and banners of heroes long past. They did little to inspire as you sat with your chin in your hands, waiting for a representative from the guilds’ treasury so that you can convince them not to repossess your equipment. “Just give ‘em the puppydog eyes. No one can resist those!” Your group had told you. And this was also true. It wasn’t your fault that you weren’t especially strong or imposing. It was useful for fulfilling your role but unfortunately led to you often being underestimated or treated childishly. Your mind swirled in a thunderstorm. Travelling without a healer was tantamount to a death sentence. Out in the wilderness, even the smallest cut could lead to a life-threatening infection. Not to mention mummy rot, lycanthropy, wyvern stings. Everyone had a role to play and you were missing one. “Excuse me. Is this the Adventuring Guild?” Came a breathy, soft spoken voice. Airy and light. You glanced up to see a woman standing before the desk, speaking to the clerk. Your breath caught for a moment in your throat as you took her in. Long, beautiful hair the colour of spun gold and braided with gems that glittered like stars tumbled down her back like a waterfall, framing the back of this curvy, enchanting figure. Every movement, no matter how small, was performed with effortless grace as she rested a staff of living wood against the desk. Atop it rested a crystal so pure one could see right through it, and silvery threads of magicked metals intertwined with the knots and whorls of the staff. Pretty (and valuable) as that staff may be your eyes refused to be pulled away from this woman. Clad in a robe of forest greens that flowed about her as if pulled by an unfelt breeze. Trumpet sleeves made of thin, almost translucent fabrics revealed pale and unblemished skin. But most notable of all, perhaps, were her ears. An unusual thing, one might thing, to focus upon. But the tips were long and pointed. 

An elf.. you think to yourself. A rarity to be sure. These reclusive, powerful creatures lived for millennia within their enchanted forests and reclusive holds. To see one traveling the world was an unusual sight indeed, for they often cared not for the affairs of men, halflings and other mortal beings. Content to remain within their own communities and spend their time plumbing the depths of the arcane and the nature of the divine, among others. “Yes this is the Ad-” the clerk stops, their eyes widening as they look up at this woman. “H-How may I.. Help you?” “Hehe! Oh please don’t be alarmed, sweetie. I don’t bite!” The woman’s voice again, a soft whisper. The susurration of a blanket being draped around you. “I’m only here to see if any parties are in need of a.. Oh what’s the word in this era.. A physiker? No..” “A healer?” Your eyes widen. That was your voice. Why did you speak? You groaned internally. Drawing attention to yourself never ended well. The figure turns, blessing you with a radiant smile. “Yes! Oh thank you!” Her eyes regard you from above as you are given a chance to look upon her face. Flawless as the rest, her eyes were a strange cavalcade of colour. At once purple, then gold, then blue as they took you in. Though no wrinkles could be seen, for elves are forever youthful, her countenance held a certain age to it. A wisdom beyond your own. You attempted to be polite, to meet her gaze. But that was difficult at the best of times and you were somewhat distracted by the revelation that her dress did little to contain a bountiful chest. The creamy pale skin stark against the deep green dress. It did not look ill-fitting, mind. Simply.. This woman’s bust demanded attention. Her ruby-clad lips draw your eyes northward once more. “My my! Let me help you with that!” She coos, in a voice tinged deeply with maternal concern. She reaches down and cups your cheek with a touch so delicate and warm you at once wish to melt into it. Your face had been rather beaten up in the last adventure, and with none to restore your vigor now you simply had to patch them up. But now the aches subsided more swiftly than they had ever before. Not just those upon your face, as the elf whispers her magic, it travels through your body. Soothing the woes of fatigue and injury. Even old wounds you had long since accepted receded before her radiance. Her hand pulls away and you can’t stop your face from following. Unbalanced, you collapse upon the floor with an embarrassed groan as you are snapped back to reality. A sound graces your ears. Like a babbling brook meets the chime of crystals. You realise she’s giggling. Your cheeks flush red as you rush to your feet. 

Her laughter stops as she looks genuinely apologetic. “I am sorry, little one. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. It was simply.. Cute.” Normally being called such a thing enraged you, frustrated you. But now… It felt comforting. “It’s okay.” you mumble.

“A-hem!” a stuffy voice draws your attention. You see the stuffy mustache first, like a hateful caterpillar resting upon the craggy face of a mountain filled with debt. The treasurer. “You again. I told you before if your party cannot prove to this guild that you are capable of finding a consistent and reliable healer to prevent any further deaths we will be forced to repossess the equipment we have graciously provided! I shan’t hear any more arguments or delays! So I ask for a final time. Have you a member capable of sealing wounds and ensuring your survival?” their stern gaze pierces you and your words wither in your throat. You tried to muster some kind of response but all that begins to croak out is a pathetic “N-no..” “Now now!” A scolding voice rang out. “There’s no need for that! No matter how urgent you feel your issue may be there’s no excuse for snapping! Or being impolite! If you must know ‘tis I that has joined this worthy band of warriors and, personally, I believe you would scarcely find a better purveyor of magicks and mending than one of my people. Now unless you would doubt the provenance of my ability, I have matters to discuss with my noble companion!” It was the elf. When did- You didn’t ask her to join you?! You barely spoke a word to her. And yet here she was, standing beside you with an arm protectively holding you against her side. Your cheek presses against her soft, warm breast through the thin fabric as you are held with a surprisingly firm grip. 

Chapter 2: Mommy’s home

The elf, whom you learned was named Nimue, was true to her word. Requesting (or gently demanding) to be taken to where your group were staying to introduce herself. She was apparently a mage of great renown amongst her own people who had left the isolation of her home to travel amongst the younger races as, in her own words, she ‘missed the energy and vibrancy of youth’ You couldn’t very well say no. You needed a healer. Furthermore elves legendarily had little need for riches which was a source of great frustration for any trader that fancied trying to arrange a trade deal for their crafts. So payment seemed not to be an issue. Dutifully you returned to the house your party had purchased many moons ago. Now somewhat dilapidated, the garden overgrown. It made you well up with shame to bring such a perfect and ethereal figure to this place. But her face remained impassive as she was led inside not that the interior fared much better. Broken bottles, dust, overturned chairs. Too often had your party returned here either too tired or drunk to care about cleanliness and it had become simply a part of the decor. First to meet you were the leaders of your band. A pair of twins, one a swordsman named Krennan and the other a channeller of barbaric rage named Mithra. “Well now, pipsqueak. Who’s this you brought with yo-” Began the swordsman, only to be cut off. “I think that’s quite a rude nickname to give someone, don’t you think?” The elf’s voice came in clipped tones, her hands on her hips. “How would you like it if someone called you pipsqueak, hmm? Just because you’re bigger doesn’t mean you get to bully others you know!” The twins look stunned. Confused. They hadn’t even exchanged names and already this lady was scolding them like a schoolteacher. “Well? Not to mention the absolute state of this abode. I’m told you are the ‘leaders’ of this little group? Hmm? Well I don’t see much leading if you leave this place in such a mess!” You couldn’t help but smile, though you attempted to hide it. To see these two being taken down a peg was… Wonderful. You glanced up at this woman, this saviour and your heart leapt just a little. You clung to her side even though you technically could have left at any time. Nowhere felt safer than right here, especially after her gentle arm almost habitually draped itself around you. “Now do either of you have anything to say for yourselves?” Her voice never raised, not once. But the tone, the power, the authority. It was all that was needed. The duo mumble and hang their heads, somehow cowed by this beautiful stranger. “Now apologize.” She commands. Krennan begins to mumble but withers under her gaze. “S-Sorry for calling you a pipsqueak.” He says a little more clearly. “That’s better. Now dearies. Thanks to a certain someone here-” she announces, rubbing your arm affectionately. “-I am your new… What was the word again in this era?” She asks you. “Healer” You say back up to her, feeling an utter rush of pride that you could be helpful to her. Especially as she beams back down at you. “I am your new healer! I’ll make sure you’re all back in bed safe and sound each and every night!” Her words are accompanied with a happy giggle. “But first sweeties, I think we need to do something about this mess, don’t you? After all. Cleanliness is next to godliness! So come along, pick up a brush. No dillydallying!” She ferries you and the other two further into the house, ushering you like children.

The next few hours consisted of chores. Cleaning the house, trimming the garden, dusting every inch that could be dusted. Your other companions - A scout named Callie and a sorcerer named Ilnax, were roped into the affair with sleepy confusion. That they fucked regularly was the worst kept secret in the group and today was no exception. But Nimue had some kind of.. Allure. Power. Nothing magical, you don’t think. Simply an aura of maternal authority. You found yourself eager to please, trusting that she knew best. And before long, the house was transformed. No longer a dilapidated sty, it looked somewhat close to actually livable! “Okay sweeties! Well done! I’m so proud of you! Teehee! And now it’s bath and bedtime for all of you!” That snapped some of them out of the strange spell she had woven. “Bedtime? We’re not-” Began Callie, only to find Nimue’s smiling face gazing down at her. “I am responsible for your health and that begins with a good and consistent sleep schedule! I’m told you four are constantly staying up far too late. This won’t do, so long as I’m here you will sleep at a reasonable hour! You wouldn’t want to die because of a silly mistake you made because you were cranky, would you?” 

As usual, you were last for the bath. You were used to it. The others simply barged their way past you to take the hot water for themselves. As you stepped into the bathroom you blush as immediately you realise that Nimue is also in there, standing near-naked before the tub. You never thought you would see an ass that perfect but you could probably bounce a gold coin off that thing as silken underwear are nearly swallowed by the cheeks. She turns with a yelp, covering her bare chest but then chuckling and dropping her hands revealing perfectly pink nipples. “Oh, it’s just you! Hehe! Close the door silly.” She says with a chuckle. Your cheeks burn, not just because of her nudity but how somehow you don’t count as someone she would be embarrassed by. As if she doesn’t see you as an adult that would find such a sight enticing. But you find yourself closing the door. “It’s getting late, so I thought I would join you in the bath! That’s okay, right? No one changed the water so I did it myself and added some firestones. It should be nice and warm! C’mon!” She beckons, turning and slipping off her panties before climbing into the tub. You debated leaving, but why should you? She was inviting you in. And the water was literally steaming hot. You hadn’t had a warm bath in so long. You realise that while you had been debating internally your body had made the choice and you were already sinking into that warm, steaming water. The tub, small as it was, would only fit if you sat between her gorgeous thighs. They cushioned your hips like pillows as she wrapped her arms around your stomach, pulling you back against her to give you a hug. Her breasts squishing against the back of your head as she does so. “I’m so glad I found you, little one. This was just what I needed! Oh this is going to be a wonderful, wonderful time!” She coos, bringing some water up and beginning to wash you. Overwhelmed, you simply sit still. It was nice, finally. To have someone stand up for you, take care of you, protect you. Finally you could just relax. Just.. Relax.. “Ooop! It looks like someone’s having a bit of an accident!” She titters. Your eyes flutter open as you look down and to your utter horror you see between your legs a definite tinge of gold in the water. Did you- You pissed yourself! You immediately try to scramble out, stammering an embarrassed apology but again those powerful arms keep you still. “Shhh…” She soothes, softly petting your head. “It’s okay. I understand. You were relaxed. Don’t worry, I won’t tell.” She whispers into your ear. “I’ll take care of it. I promise. But for now.. We should make sure there’s nothing else in there, hmm?” Unsure of what she meant, you simply settled back into the water as her hand trailed down between your legs. You tense as she touches your most intimate place, but quickly relax as her gentle hands slowly start to rub and tease you. “W-What are you…” “Helping you relax.. Shhh..” She whispers into your ear as she continues just gently touching you. Holding you in a motherly embrace as her delicate strokes make you shiver so sweetly. You had never been touched like this. So carefully, tenderly. Not trying to simply get you off as quickly as possible. But wanting to fill your mind with a haze of pleasure. It was overwhelming. It was everything. You settle even more comfortably against her chest, half turning to nuzzle into her breast as she holds you close. “That’s my little champion. My brave heroic adventurer! You’ve done so much, such a good job! Now just relax. Let me take care of you. Let mommy take good, good care of you now…” Those words reached your ears and swirled into your mind. Soothing all worries, caressing your anxious soul. You didn’t even realise when you felt your hips lift and grind against her hand as you cum for her. She was taking care of you now. You were hers, happily and hopelessly hers. You could never have imagined how far that would go. 

[haru-dipthong]

How long will the japanese wikipedia article for goncharov last?

And how big is the internet, really?

I was in a wikipedia hole recently and I happened to notice that the Japanese article for Goncharov is the only language variant that is completely in-character.

Every other language specifies it as “Goncharov (meme)”. Japanese lists it as “Goncharov (1973 film)”, and formats the introduction as if it were a real movie:

Goncharov is a 1973 mafia film set in Naples, Italy. Produced by Martin Scorsese, the main cast includes Robert De Niro, Al Pacino, John Cazale, Gene Hackman, Cybill Shepherd, and Harvey Keitel.

— Wikipedia (my translation)

The rest of the article does go on to acknowledge Tumblr’s influence in Goncharov’s popularity, but every mention of this influence frames it as reviving the popularity of the supposedly real film. On two occasions the word 再燃 is used (the first kanji means “again” and the second kanji means “burn” - it means “rekindle” and can be similarly used in the metaphorical and literal sense, just like the english word “rekindle”).

Goncharov became particularly popularity on social media as a result of a reblog of a Tumblr post in August 2020. The post depicted shows the title of the film (Goncharov) in place of a brand logo on a shoe, which were described as “knockoff boots”. The image post and the comment attached to the reblog, mocking the fact that the original poster had not seen the film, became an internet meme. In November 2022, a poster made by a fan of Goncharov was uploaded to the internet, and the film’s popularity resurged. Various fan-made content about the story and production began to spread on Tumblr and other platforms. Goncharov has been widely covered in the media as an example of how fandom is born on the internet, with many prominent figures, including Scorsese himself, leaving comments.

— Wikipedia (my translation)

It’s clear the article is trying to adapt the real history of the meme and incorporate it as much as possible into the fictional history of the film. The rest follows quite similarly, and includes more analysis of how Tumblr culture created the “reignited” popularity, how Elon’s acquisition of Twitter resulted in an exodus of users to Tumblr which may have contributed to the increased awareness of the “movie”, etc. Though most of it is directly translated from the english, enough of it is original (such as the attempts to reconcile both real and fictional histories) that I suspect the article’s current state is intentional.

To get back to my initial question, how long will this article last like this?

Remember the whole Scots Wikipedia debacle? An american teenager had basically used simple word replacement to translate over 23,000 articles into Scots. Some people noticed this, but not many, and not loudly enough. It was only after a well researched reddit post pointed out the scale of the damage that people really took notice and action was taken. The wikipedia editor had apparently been doing this for 7 years before the reddit post was made.

If 20,000 articles could go largely unnoticed for 7 years, I imagine a single article could easily evade similar detection. Realistically, how many Japanese speakers are going to even hear about Goncharov and make it to the wikipedia article? Then, how many of them are going to do more googling and find out it’s all a hoax (or know already)? THEN, how many of them are going to tell a wikipedia admin that the article is a lie, or publicise it somehow in a way that forces the editors to update the article?

I think the reality is that although the internet may appear to be a massive open town square (or several), it also has side streets, and side streets of side streets. I feel like the number of active members in each online hobby or interest group are really quite small, and then they get divided between platforms, and even further divided into subgroups. I think if one decided it was something one wanted to do, it would be quite easy to become one of the most prevalent members of any online community you chose just by devoting the time and energy to it.

It’s also kind of shocking how much internet content is inaccessible on account of it being in a different language. English reigns supreme in terms of sheer volume, but there is original research and journalism and entertainment and art in every language, that hasn’t and might never be translated into english. For example, I found it very difficult to find any english sources or research for my post about the evolving conjugation of 違う, but I easily found several japanese papers and websites. In fact, if you google “違くない adjective or verb”, the first english result that doesn’t just handwave it as “informal” or “slang” is a tumblr blog with my post on it!

It’s a small internet indeed where my little hobby language blog is, according to google, the prevailing english source on what is quite a remarkable change in Japanese grammar that’s been happening since the 80s.

I think the Japanese unreality version of the Goncharov wikipedia article will stand for many years to come.

(below link shows the article at time of writing)

[0w0tsuki]

Hey can we stop pretending like the only feasible reason that a trans woman would not like the term femboy is because she's some puritan anti-kinkster or somehow against men being able to dress femininely?

Like perhaps maybe the group of people who had to go through a phase of having to figure out and explore their femininity while being perceived by society as a man DON'T WANT to police the way men are able to present and express their genders? Like maybe WE DON'T want to make things even harder for transfem eggs. Like maybe we might have an interest in protecting transfem eggs and are speaking from the harm that we experienced as eggs ourselves?

Like maybe it might have to do with the fact that outside of Tumblr your average femboy is a trap fetishist? Like did we all forget the memes of "trying to figure out if the Astofolo icon is a trans woman or a fascist?"

Like some of us were discovering our transness during puberty in the early 2000s. You remember the early 2000s right? Where South Park and Family were at the height of their cultural influence, the R slur was a substitute for stupid, and bigotry was so common that "traps are gay" jokes could be made in polite company without having to worry about backlash. So imagine what kink spaces were like. Especially when you're a teenage trans girl just discovering herself.

I personally was so damaged by that experience that I began to believe that my gender-no my EXISTENCE was a fetish to be embarrassed and humiliated by and to be reviled for. I genuinely did not engage in relationships because I believed I was going to have to give in and tell them that they fell in love with a sex object. I did not believe that I was worthy of love. And it took YEARS of working through that for me to be comfortable with transitioning.

And after I worked through that I still have to deal with them. They haven't left kink communities they had their roots in. To this day there's a kink website I frequent that has community suggestions for tags IE: Unless the OP of the work goes back to delete this feature, anyone can "recommend" deletions or additions to the tags of the work. This is in place to make the proper labeling/searching/blacklisting of kinks easier to help curate content. In practice though it allows transmisoginists to basically graffiti any transfem artwork they come across. And let me tell you Femboy tags are getting added on right after they replace F/F with M/M on a transbians t4t work. And it happens so frequently that I have to check in about once a month to these trans tags to inform the most recent victim about what's happened to their works.

And outside of kink spaces I go into fandom spaces where I have had to deal with trap fetishists positioning themselves as fucking lore scholars when they harass trans positive folks about the Correct and Moral gender of the transmisoginistic character that they've got a fap folder dedicated. I got to see someone rise to twitch fame off the back of trap content turn into a “femboy icon” because he gave some of the trap money to trans charities and has a trans girlfriend. Who is still making trap content by the way.I've gotten to see reddit lose their absolute goddamn minds when the term Trap was banned from r/anime, shitting themselves so hard about it that they made their own separate website with transmisogynistic wojaks on the home page and everything. And then I got to see the fucking Bridget Debacle.

The reason I always talk about Bridgets trans confirmation is that it's the most widely recognized recent event where the exact shit I'm talking about was on full display. The reason why her being confirmed as a trans woman was such a big deal for trans girls was not just because she was one of the anime caricatures with her own folder in the trap enthusiasts masterbation portfolio. It was because she was GROUND ZERO for original coining of the word trap. And the EXACT same guys who deemed her a trap were now coming out in DROVES fuck EN MASS. But this time as self appointed femboys. We had so many examples of fucking Astofolo icon twitter facists trying to drudge up any type of left sounding argument using the femboy identity after having their initial arguments revolving around mistranslation were debunked. Crying that transfems were “stealing femboy representation” and trying to say that it was an “antitransmasculization force feminization trope” unironically. You know the cry of “Let men be feminine!!!!” y'all always bring out in defense of femboys. THAT'S who you're parroting! THAT'S who you got it from! We have had direct evidence of former trap fetishists dawning the term femboy when it became less cool to be openly transmisogynistic and then started appropriating leftist language to give their transmisogynistic arguments an air of legitimacy.

Like y'all need to understand that this magical space we got here is a FUCKING BUBBLE. Femboy communities in literally every other online space are former trap/sissy communities and are fucking cess pits of transmisoginy. I have seen posts by people who's only experience being around femboys was on Tumblr go out and check a place like r/mildfemboys to be horrified by the obsessiveness of the transmisogyny the femboys they interact with. And the femboys here aren't much better by treating being forced to acknowledge that these people exist and that is a still very active part of their community even if they don't personally interact with it as a personal attack on them and their gender presentation.

Y'all just want to pretend it doesn't exist and treat the idea that a Transfem might not WANT to interact with YOU(OH GOSH!!) because of it like it's some sort of personal judgement instead of something you're just going to have to accept happens when there's a large portion of people who share that title who are responsible for traumatizing them. But y'all got to go one step further. Y'all who go on about how femboys are our closest allies and about how “femboys and transfems are actually closer than transfems want to admit”. Y'all treat femboys like they're out little fucking brother in the queer community and it's our personal fucking responsibility to leave behind any personal baggage at the door in order to make them feel welcome.

Y'all can't handle the fucking idea that a trans woman might not be comfortable with sharing community with someone who's average member would call her a trap while jacking off to her selfies if he thought he could get away with it. That's she's not interested in playing the Astofolo icon game with them. Y'all gotta create a backwards narratives where she is against her own interests, where she is for making it harder for eggs in the future instead of you know. Asking for better from the communities those eggs are drawn too.

I have been forced to fucking put up with femboys in nearly every online space I've ever been in. And I

Am sick and fucking tired

Of putting up with femboys

[maxknightley]

the popularity of "dril replacement theory" really speaks to the lingering psychological scars of the horse ebooks debacle