#so instead my wife did all of it while i was in worlds most boring meeting

[ofmd-alsaurus]

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[iznsfw]

Lucid Dream

IZ Days of Christmas 2023: Day 7 - Kim Minju

IZ*ONE's Kim Minju x Male Reader Smut

8,525 words

Categories | married man!You, wife!Wonyoung, daddy kink, degradation, rough sex, OC is not a good person

Content warning | cheating, humiliation, Wonyoung slander (it hurt to write but I read "Gone Girl" by Gillian Flynn recently so I guess that went into the whole wife-hating thing)

Skipping again a bit (still will do Chaeyeon and Chaewon and everyone because IZ*ONE best girls). Expect a commission and an IZ Days of Xmas fics this month again <3 I love you all, you make me happy. And as always, sorry for the inconsistency!

Wonyoung is beautiful.

You stare at her as she undresses in front of the full-length mirror. She’s the kind of woman whose vanity seldom rolls eyes because her adoration for herself—smoothing down her dark hair, strictly adhering herself to that keto diet, doing her skincare with the dedication of one who prays nightly to god (pick any)—is wholly justifiable. Look at her. Anyone would understand.

The dress she wore for her hosting show slips off her body. Her abs reflect in the mirror, the result of hard work in the gym. Wonyoung’s waist is impeccable. Magazines have written over and over tips to attain it but it seems that the signature Bratz doll feature can only belong to Wonyoung. The makeup was cleaned up by her stylist but her eyes still shine, her lashes are still long, and her lips are still plump.

Wonyoung is standing there in nothing but her underwear, an attractive set of lace. 

Wonyoung is the perfect female form, a goddess from above choosing a man from below.

Wonyoung is beautiful, a feat that no matter how amazing besides true, she remains the same old fucking bore.

“Did you like my MCing, babe?” she asks.

“Uh-huh.”

Her legs, long and thin, move in planned strides down the room. To the bed. You know where this is going.

Your feet are killing you. Recline, welcoming yourself into the softness of the expensive mattress and pillows your wife paid for all in all. “Wonyoung, I’m tired.” 

She’s a celebrity. Of course, endless days filled to the edge with schedules chase after her. She ought to understand. The nights are her only rest hours, yet with this energy, it’s like Jang Wonyoung never gets exhausted. Always bubbly, always sweet, always so seductive. 

All these are positive traits that any other man would adore and own had you not married her. 

Wonyoung makes an adorable sigh. “But you say that everytime,” she replies sullenly.

She’s pushing her lips out into this cute pout while her brown puppy eyes beg you to give in like you used to. Once upon a time, you were putty around Wonyoung. Never could give an answer without your voice shaking. Never could come near her without blushing. 

She’s the prettiest woman in the world.

You’re the most awful, undeserving man in the world, for all you could think, as you look at her, is: Fucking bitch. 

“Well, maybe it’s because I’m always tired.”

“How about,” she puts a finger on her chin, “I do the job for you?”

Her knees are bruised. You notice this when she drops to them so she could pull your pants to the ground. So she’s been doing this for so long? Lowering herself for you? Sucking you off? You thought that she’d get the hint by now: you don’t want to have sex with her.

So instead, she uses her mouth. Better than her pussy anyway. What are you saying? She’s a tight woman. But it’s the same thing everyday: she gets on your cock and you hear her annoying voice straining as she rides you. Her cunt, soaked and useless, makes you want to call her its name. She’s always needy. It isn’t flattering when you don’t reciprocate it.

It’s a goddamned chore. Wonyoung’s throat welcomes you. The other way around, actually: your cock welcomes a claustrophobically closed passageway and has to deal with it until you cum. It’s an unwanted visitor. She rang the bell, said hi, and you let her in. Doesn’t mean you like her there.

“Doing so good, baby,” you say. Oh, yeah, doesn’t mean you mean it either—although you do feel Wonyoung smile happily. She’s happy when she makes you happy. When she makes you give her the illusion that you have any happiness in this worn-out marriage.

Her lips seal around you. You can feel them suckling. Your knees are tense. The moans are forced, though. Hearing them come out from your own mouth makes you want to place a pillow over your face and press it down as hard as you can.

She slides you down her throat. Admittedly, you love the way she chokes. Her eyes get all watery, like she’s crying from pain. That sounds appealing. 

You’re a critically messed up man, you know. But they’re what make the world go ‘round. Why do you think they write romance books about them—the bad boy, the mafia boss, the killer? Plus, one of those “terrible” people inspires the biggest Korean celebrity to continue hosting, dancing, and singing. So who’s so terrible now?

To conclude, if anything, you’re the one responsible for Wonyoung’s success.

To conclude, you groan as desperately as you can then release in her mouth. Wonyoung gags. Another pretty sound. Her eyes look up while she attempts to swallow. Saliva sticks to her chin. Semen floods up to the roof of her mouth. It reminds you of how it ends up there more often than in her womb.

You would’ve made beautiful children with Wonyoung in another world where she wasn’t famous and you actually loved her. You would have been a softer, kinder man. She would have been a person who’s easier to love and make love with.

“Wonyoung, Wonyoung, that… was incredible.”

If you weren’t a director, you’d be the one on camera. You’re a great actor when it comes to your wife. Your incompetence in the house is masked by husbandly exhaustion; an artificial gaze of attentiveness hides your indifference to conversation. 

She smiles coquettishly. “I try.”

The wide closet parts. She chooses a pair of silk pajamas that hang around her thin frame. She climbs onto the bed and wraps an arm around you. Her skin is always cold to the touch. Like she’s dead or something. How interesting.

You stroke her hair. “I’d return the favor but… I’m actually gonna pass out. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She kisses your forehead. Wonyoung’s a sweet girl. “Good night.”

You smile. Say it back. Her eyelids flutter closed. Her palms are flat against each other and are placed under her cheek. Cute, you guess. She sleeps. 

You don’t. 

You should have—nothing good ever happens after midnight.

-

2:05 a.m., more specifically.

-

Amazing how time slips through your grasp like air. You reach and reach, desperate for a return, desperate for a flash to the past. As always, your efforts aren’t fruitful. The seconds pour through the pinched waist of the hourglass and you can’t stand it on its other head. You’re unable to revert back to the moment you took your arm from underneath your wife’s skull. The moment you opened your phone. If you hadn’t, maybe things would have been different.

But it’s past two, and you’re resting your back on the pillowy headboard with your phone in your hands. The circumstances just play right into danger: Wonyoung’s asleep, the night is eerily quiet, and the screen is there, awaiting the secret routine. Which girls would you cum for today? Why aren’t your thumbs clicking over censored sites?

Your feed shows a naked woman, her eyes staring up and her mouth wide. Scroll past that—you prefer the amateur videos, where the expressions balance between exaggerated and naturally provoked. A ton of videos could help in the bathroom where you take your nightly “shower,” and it’s not one of those.

Maybe you need the real thing.

Look at Wonyoung. Perhaps you should have let her ride you just so you could cum in a warm pussy again. After all, it’s the least you could do when you were once a fan of her. That’s how everyone starts: puppy-like adoration. But she doesn’t have the star quality she once did onstage; the coy thoughtful princess you envisioned her as. That’s why you haven’t fucked her in weeks. 

You’re about to wrap your hand around your cock and ready yourself for another night of conflicted pleasure. This video is perfect for that already. You could jerk yourself off then get a good night’s sleep. Simple. This is the safest option for a dangerous want. By just watching, you’re not cheating on your wife. It’s just porn. Jerk off, cum, cum again probably, then sleep. Nobody gets hurt.

“Fuck me… please,” whimpers the woman in the video. Her legs are spread open. Her partner’s swiping his cock at her lips while she looks at him with equal hunger, equal desire. “I can’t take it anymore.”

Then, a text message notifies you, peeking from the top of your screen. It dares you to click it.

And it says the exact same thing.

fuck me please, i cant take it anymore. 

i miss you 

You look around, like you’re afraid someone might see it. There’s only the dimness of your bedroom that greets you. It’s safe, but this message isn’t. 

The number is familiar. Has one of your friends gone crazy? Or did they send a text to the wrong person? Take it for spam, a perfectly coincidental one, or a scam, a typical, preying-on-the-married, pwning message.

But why would a contact spam you at a time so strangely perfect?

Don’t bother. Your fist works on your dick as you watch the video. The woman’s so wet that although she isn’t squirting, her juices start to stick to the man’s thighs. Her mouth is wide open as he finally pounds her. 

What you’d give to have good sex like that again. 

XXX-XXX-XXX sent a video message.

Fine. Click it, you’re curious.

Oh, so apparently, the answer is your marriage.

The video shows a face that’s more intimate than familiar. The ebony-black hair already tells you who she is, as does her body. Her form is encased in a floral tank top and nothing else. Although her chest is covered, she’s still a little daring with how her nipples stamp the fabric. She turns herself around to let you admire the curve of her wide hips and her round butt.

There’s only one woman with a body so perfect. And she’s the one and only Kim Minju.

There are reasons for everything. This is yours for why you didn’t give this number a name: 

No one needs to know just from a text that you cheated on Jang Wonyoung.

That was so long ago, back when you were still boyfriend and girlfriend. You were drunk and missed Wonyoung’s old self. Why did she have to be such a bitch? Why did she dedicate herself to work and leave you dry? It’s not like the industry would go bankrupt without her. Minju came over, listened to your complaints—every little whine about Wonyoung being busy, every little jab at her workaholic character—then said something along the lines of, why don’t you have a little fun while she’s away. 

And you thought… yeah, that was a really great idea. 

That was the beginning of the end. After multiple secret meet-ups and raunchy sex in alleyways, you didn’t contact Minju again. You forgot her. You thought she did, too. She should have understood that your infidelity, albeit alluring, would be a thing of the past. 

But here she is, in your messages, with a pornographic clip of herself in a round-cornered bubble. She’s waiting for a reply. 

Although you’ve long lost your aspirations to be a better husband, you type what a good man should. This man is proper, faithful, and loving. He loves his wife only and the only other people he loves with this deep of a bond is his family. 

Stop texting me or I’ll block you. 

It’s not enough. You’re not a good man. You aren’t proper or faithful or loving or any of that shit. You were about to masturbate to an internet celebrity after turning down sex with your wife. What about that makes you a good person?

:( you miss me sooooo bad it’s pathetic, Minju replies.

You look at her again. You may not be able to turn back time with your metaphorical hourglass, but you can turn this hourglass body into any position you want. You could push her against a window for all to see, perhaps fuck her to the floor, or slam her on a desk like a teacher would to a test paper. Minju would let you do anything to her.

Stop it.

She really has to. As much as you dislike Wonyoung, she’s your wife, and you vowed on your wedding day to only have eyes for her. 

But you’re only one man against a body like Minju’s that curves in every right place.

Three circles float up and down in a contained bubble before she texts you back:

alright…what a pity :( i’m already outside!! i guess ill have to go back…

You’ve never bolted out of bed so fast. 

You look back at Wonyoung as you stand in the doorway. She’s still in deep slumber. Now, are the curtains closed? The entrances locked? Scan the house thoroughly, until you inch your way to the front door. 

Hesitate. You didn’t know you had a conscience but here it is. It tells you to wonder if Minju really is behind it, like she said. She knows how to use the privilege of being Wonyoung’s close friend. That’s how she came to your house like she used to with no worry for paparazzi or suspicion. Best friends don’t fuck their best friends’ husbands, right?

Open the door. This one did.

Minju grew more beautiful in her absence. Her hair is silkier this time and her shy smile is brighter. The long coat is smoothed by her fingers, and you wish you could be the brown piece of fabric her pale hands run down. What makes you guilty for thinking it, even when you’ve done it, is the fact that she looks so innocent. It’s like it would be a crime to even buy her a drink. 

How could she be innocent with that photo she sent? The time you spent together: you folding her over a table and promising to fill her up? Fucking her while Wonyoung is busy and counting on you to welcome her home? Sending nudes like there’s no tomorrow? Nothing about Minju is pure, yet she acts like she could do no wrong.

“Minju,” you say. Your voice sounds fragile. She has a way of breaking you befote you’re breaking her into breaking another bed. 

She blinks theatrically. Everything she does is angelic. “Glad you opened the door.”

The knob is cold in your fist. It chills your animalistic brain and urges you to consider the consequences. Right, it says, here’s what a human—a good one—would think. If Wonyoung wakes and sees you with Minju, she’d have a lot of questions. If paparazzi are somehow hiding in the forest that extends to acres before your house, everyone would know you’re cheating on her. Most of all, you’re married, monogamy and everything. 

So what will it be? This is your last and only chance to send her away.

You know what you have to do. Take a few breaths. “You have to leave. I’m not joking, it isn’t right.”

In response, Minju unravels the ribbon of the layers sealed around her waist. It falls apart. You do, too.

She’s a real danger. As it turns out, the girl isn’t wearing anything underneath that trench coat. She’s an artist’s naked muse—bare long legs, wide hips, and a sizable bust that has sculptors carving something else.

The cold hardens her pink nipples. You notice how her breasts are much bigger than your wife’s. How her hips are more tempting to grab, so you do. How her body is meatier, a lot more enticing that you wouldn’t refuse a day without touching it.

Minju fuels your infidelity, and you won’t stop for it if it kills you.

She simpers, fingers curling into your work shirt. “Still wanna make me leave,” she asks, “when you can breed me all night long?”

You laugh, huffing it out as you pull her inside and close the door behind her. Minju looks gorgeous pressed to it. She looks gorgeous in whatever situation, actually. Her thighs squish against the carved design and look thicker as a result. More reasons to dive into that shaven cunt and abuse it.

“You’re not leaving until we make a fucking mess, Minju.” You take your shirt off. Throw it on the ground. “And we better make it quick.”

“Of course.” She nods. She’s slyer than a fox, but she submits to you without a second thought.

You lean in to kiss her. The heat is unbearable. You can feel it from Minju’s body transferring to yours. It’s the effect of her natural skills as your personal slut: trying to fit her tongue deeper in your mouth while you pull her close like she’d dare to run away. 

You haven’t gotten this hard for anyone else. It’s always been Minju you fall for. You miss the way she kisses, the way she roams her hands all over your torso, the way she’s goddamned insatiable. Feeling it all now in one, heated moment makes you dizzy. You’re taking in too much of her, but without her, you’d go thirsty again. 

Your fingers are in her hair; hers are on your waist. Your teeth are clamped down on Minju’s bottom lip; hers are apart and allow soft moans to pass through—one, two, three. You fit each other in so many wicked ways. They did say misery loves company.

Open your eyes. The dream doesn’t stop. Minju’s still pushing her mouth in your face and you’re letting her. You don’t know if you ought to be relieved or downright horrified. You’re cheating on Wonyoung again with a woman whose body is just a bit nicer. You should be furious at yourself. You aren’t.

You’ve made out with each other on the way to the dining room. You and your wife worked hard for its designed walls and sturdy, well-furnished ornaments. A lot of money was raked out to make this house the best place to call home. So, why do you want to ruin it?

Well, because of her.

Minju leans on the dining table with a funny smile on her face. “She really doesn’t do it for you, huh?” she asks.

It makes you wince how you know who she’s talking about. Who else is she referring to other than poor Wonyoung? Poor, skinny, ugly Wonyoung?

Nibble at her earlobe. Hear little gasps come out of her. “Don’t talk about her,” you say.

You don’t want to have any afterthoughts about fucking Minju. Besides, being reminded that you’re disloyal to a woman who loves you very much is painful, even to a man like you.

Wonyoung is an angel. Minju isn’t—but you run after her to darkness.

“Ohh, come on, I know I’m better than her.” Minju squirms with erotic moans. Your kisses are going south, and she loves their little detour. “You don’t fuck her like you fuck me.”

When was the last time you worshiped Wonyoung? Like what you’re doing to Minju now? Your lips haven’t passed over it in ages that you probably wouldn’t know where the bigs and smalls of her body are. Like there’s anything to know. 

“Actually,” you snort, “I don’t fuck her at all.”

You stop chuckling. That was the wrong thing to say. That was the wrongest thing to say out of the millions of other cocky phrases you could’ve thrown to Minju. The look on her face, the one that’s of pride and submission and dangerous knowledge united, tells you to watch your mouth. 

You’re five seconds minimum too late to listen. 

Minju grins. There’s the answer she wanted. “That’s how it is? Just looking at a girl and thinking you wanna stamp a divorce approval on her forehead? Jesus. This is why I never got married.”

“First off, nobody put a ring on you because you’re a slut, Minju.”

“That’s only the third reason.” Her fingers drape the sides of your face and tugs you in. You’re invited to the sight of her infallible tits. “These are the first two.”

The girl isn’t as busty as that woman Wonyoung likes to call her industry mom, but you bet they’re better. No, it’s a matter of truth. Minju’s boobs aren’t too big or too small; just the perfect, filling size to hold onto when you’re railing her from behind.

You choose to suck on them for now. It’s like a trip down memory lane when you kiss down her neck and collarbone. You remember how good her smooth, soft skin feels beneath you, how her moans are a favorite tune. Minju bites her lip while you do so to her shoulder.

It’s crazy to think that she just so happened to be born with this. She was born to be a pretty face with a sex-defined body that you pull and push and pry apart. Best thing is, she’ll lay back down and beg for more. It’s like she knows her purpose, which would’ve shot down her dignity and humanity.

Her nipple pops in your mouth. Your sucking guarantees its hardness, and Minju starts whining. She arcs her body, wanting something rougher. Thus, you seize the span of her hip to rub her pearl with fierce speed.

“Oh, fuck, god—” What others might take for blasphemy, you take for praise. Minju’s already soaking wet. She would have had embarrassing laundry to do if she wore panties. Maybe it’s a good thing she arrived wearing nothing.

She’s still so sensitive. You caress her clit after a few kisses down her midriff. She fidgets needily like you aren’t already touching her. You’re nearly right—this touch is nothing when she needs something harsher. That something involves you treating her less than a human being, putting her down and tearing at her hair. 

“Please just fuck me,” she whispers. “Breed me, breed me, breed me—”

Yeah, that’s what she wants.

You don’t need further motivation, not when you’re presented with the prettiest pussy you’ve ever seen. Her fat lips are soaked. They frame the clitoris you’ve been stimulating that shines with slick. Then there’s the tiniest hole below it that begs to be used.

Your digits shove past all tightness. Her wetness allows a deeper exploration, so you curl your digits like you’re beckoning the orgasm forward. You know how easily you can get it out of her. All it needs to get Minju cumming around you is a slap, roughness, and giving her what she wants anyway. You know your methods, she knows hers. It’s a recognizable cycle that despite this, you can’t break.

Part your fingers widely to spread her. She’s so wet that she soaks your knuckles. There’s an ocean inside her waiting to be waved to shore. A storm, too, brews from the base of her throat as Minju whimpers. Her body lifts off the table but you force her down on it. She isn’t going anywhere, not without a fight.

Oh, and fight she does. She was an idol before an actress, so her muscles still memorize the circling motions that repeat on your fingers rather than move onstage. She sang once. That was a long time ago yet her voice sounds perfect as it strains her moans. Every little thing she does is a reflection of her past. 

That’s why when she leans back, pupils dilating north, and says “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” you get deja vu.

Your palm hits her clit, adding impact to your strokes. “There you go, little slut,” you snarl. “Are you happy now? Maybe even a little grateful?”

If Minju’s ass isn’t pressed down on the glass mantling your dining table, it hovers so her pink little hole receives you better. It’s not without the help of her weak hands clinging to the table for dear life, but she seems to be losing her balance. Her hips are shuddering. Her beautiful face is squeezed up into a blissful wince. Her breaths are becoming blunt little gasps that say none of the gratitude you want to hear.

You slap her boob. Red blooms from her pale skin that deepens when another impacts her bosom. The recoil dizzies you. If anyone’s getting the impression that you’ll slap her bouncy tits until you hear a proper word of thanks, they’d be right. First impressions are right just for once.

“T-thank you—” Her voice cracks, breaking like her. “Fuck, shit, thank you, thank you.”

Squeeze her cruelly and pull on the perky nipple. Your thrusts become mindlessly paced. Your hand returns to your cock while the other ruins her pussy. The pleasure is telepathic. It’s connecting you; her screams and squirms make you do the same. The electricity firing up in your veins is a shared network. When you point your fingers to her spot, she arcs her back in the same direction. How beautifully fucked up is that? 

“That’s not enough. You didn’t come here for nothing. What do you want, Minju?”

Minju babbles. You got your gratitude but not a proper answer. To be fair, she can’t speak when you’re fucking her like it’s your dick inside her, and when your lips are all over her collarbone. 

“And you better keep quiet,” you add, curling your thrusts, “or Wonyoung‘s gonna hear. Do you really want her to know her precious friend is a big slut?”

However, despite the rumors she starts, Minju could be a very good girl when needed. 

“Need you to make me cum,” she whispers. Her midriff is fluid as water with the way it rolls, showing off the hourglass shape of her waist and a soft tummy. “Do everything to me you can’t with Wonyoung. P-please, I can’t take it.”

Even if she can’t (wrong by the way), you’ll make her. She asked for it. She walked up to your house with a purpose: to be used, to be treated like less of a human being. So it’s understandable that you slam her down the table and seal a hand around her neck. 

She’s so light that the forceful push doesn’t break the fragile glass. But there’s something of hers instead that’s going to be broken.

“Oh fuck! It’s so–” Minju’s eyes roll back. “Ohh… oh!”

Little sparks of wetness shoot in the air. Your pace turns merciless. With just three fingers, you puppet her body. Strings are pulled—her arms raise and her long legs strain to pull you in. You push and she keens, you pull and she yells. You’re making her desecrate the place with her water.

“C-can’t breathe.” A squeeze of her beautiful features—eyelids wrinkling, mouth parting, cheeks filling with scarlet—occurs before she squirts again. She whimpers pathetically, sounding so pitiful you want to laugh. “Ah, fuck, daddy—”

Something stirs inside you. When men hear that name, it ought to feel purely platonic and familial. They’d hear it from their daughter and feel compelled to protect them from men who’d do to them what you do to Minju. But you much prefer hearing that two-syllable word when it comes from a naked woman squirting all over the floor, from whom once you register it, you’re urged to pin her down, tie her down, hold her down.

Ironically, you release her. That isn’t because it’s over though. “On your knees. Follow me.”

Minju releases a gasp, grateful for the oxygen. The color returns to her face yet she barely has the energy to get off the table. You’re a generous man, and hey, it still counts as helping. So you yank her hair and force her on the ground. She fucking moans, a feat deserving of a healthy spank to her ass.

You walk to the living room. She follows you withher hands and knees bearing the cold tiles. You lead her to the place where you spend your time watching movies, rehearsing, and hanging out with Wonyoung if she’s ever home.

Speaking of, glance at the door of your bedroom. It’s still closed. It’ll stay that way.

Look down after wondering why Minju’s noisier. She’s playing with herself on the floor with no care for the cold chill of the tiles or the little dirt wedged between them. She lightly rubs her abused clit, quivering at the contact. You expect that from her—she’s corrupted, an irredeemable cause. She’ll get herself off anytime anywhere.

But what’s unexpected is what those watery eyes are focused on: you, in a framed picture on the wall. You look younger, happier. You’re in formal garments standing next to Wonyoung in a church.

It was you on your wedding day.

You spit on Minju. “Filthy cumslut.”

The drool slides down her cheek like a tear. She darts her tongue out and licks it. One could’ve thought it was candy considering the lift of a smile. 

“I’m sorry, daddy,” she says resolutely. Her fingers still toy with her entrance. They won’t serve her well when there’s a bigger, better thing behind your pants to do it for her.

Your pants are already off. “Get up. Get the fuck up,” you command, but you do it for her. 

You grab her neck and force her up. The look on her face is addicting, the way the shock turns into carnal need, the way she bites her lip. You press her to the wall, right under the framed wedding pictures, and finally plunge yourself inside her.

“Oh, oh, oh!” 

What did Minju do to get this tight? Her walls are squeezed closer around you than you remember. They’re still wet from her squirting, easing your burden of fighting against the tautness of her core.

Her groans are pitched just like how you pitch yourself in her and make her fight for it. She tries everything: gathering the strength she has to push her ass into your crotch, rolling her body, looking back to watch your cock disappear between her lips. 

“So big, daddy!” she cries. With a lick of her lips, she turns to face you. “Mmm, d-do you ever get this massive when you’re fucking Wonyoung?”

That seals it. There’s no restraint in using her body. Her plump ass leading to her toned back is a temptation by itself. You’d burst all over it (maybe in it) if you weren’t already firm in breeding her. But dear god—it rises and descends into your angled pumps so effortlessly that you aren’t afraid to spank it like you’re angry at her. 

“Keep your whore mouth shut.”

Spank after spank you bestow and you realize, oh, you and Minju are really made for each other. The more her ass reddens, the more hot pain sparks on your palm. She throws herself back hard, you piston her harder. 

Your puzzle pieces stick together so perfectly that it’s a shame you didn’t meet under different circumstances. She could’ve been an adorable girl next door and you could have been a guy looking to slip her a love letter. She would’ve been your loving girlfriend, a beautiful wife, someone you’d actually enjoy touching, so different from the woman asleep in the bed upstairs.

But that’s never happening. Minju’s a slut through and through, and she’ll forever be a sin you won’t go to confessions for. She was made to be fucked then discarded of when she’s no longer of use. You see it in the way she’s in a mantra of craziness, the way she yells, the way she looks back at you like she’s daring you to hurt her.

You choose the dare rather than to tell her the truth. You curl her hair into a fist and pull her into you. 

“God, I’m so close.” Minju’s trembling body grows warmer in your touch. “I’m gonna cum all over your big gorgeous cock. I can’t hold out longer, daddy.”

Your teeth dig into her earlobe. You could make her bleed and she’d still find a way to make the pain heavenly. “I thought I told you to be quiet. Is Wonyoung waking up and ending your life worth it for this?”

“What if I say yes?” 

“Fuck.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice, making her see you’d give her away to get a night with me? You’ll give up all this stupid shit t-to be my daddy. Because Wonyoung’s just sooo worthless, isn’t she?”

Savage her cunt and shove your fingers down her mouth just so she could shut up. You love this. Minju’s always so ready for you. 

No, actually—now that you think about it, you hate it. You hate how she’s curvier than your wife, how she’s more alluring than she could ever be, how she moans despite the blockage in her throat. Everything about her is so sexy that the sound of her choking up spit makes you throb. 

This is the wrong time to have a conscience. You’ve already split her apart. You’ve already got your fingers in her hair that pull hard to the point that damage is highly likely. You’ve already—

—got Minju screaming, biting down on your skin as her legs spread. What a strange thing to have as a natural reflex. That’s all she knows to do: spread her legs, hope her innocent face attracts a guy into her home and his dick into her pussy. Her skin, white as snow, has become impure with red blemishes. You see her purple-bruised neck flex when she yells into your hand. 

“Daddy! Daddy!” Minju yells. Her fingernails leave fine scratches on the wall. “Fuck, I’m squirting so much I don’t know what to do—oh fuck!”

You bump the manic girl up on your knee before spreading her legs. A godless squirt of her juices hits Wonyoung’s face, the savior being the glass protecting the picture. Others bless their homes with water blessed by esteemed priests; you like to stand out. Choose to have Minju’s unholy juice flood the photo you once held dear. 

Did something possess you? An evil spirit, a god of fertility? All are clichés but you can’t help but think so when you notice how fast you’re pumping Minju. It’s like greed’s finally reigned you. It’s difficult to resist. Minju just wrings your cock perfectly dry with her tight cunt, keeps you speedy with her desperate moans. You’re vandalizing her with your climax and she doesn’t want to be clean ever again.

“You think you’re special, Minju?” You press her to the ruined picture. Her side profile mashes on the glass. “You’re nothing, only a useless hole, just like that bitch. Now clean it up.”

Her eyes light up in shock. Excitement? “What?”

You pull her head back in order to have her full lips pressed against Wonyoung’s face. The clear squirt is still dripping from it. Minju’s face is red, and although your cock left her moments ago, she insists on tensing like it’s there. Is that how she lives? Her way of bonding is riding on the high she got the night before and the night before that. She always has sex in her mind that thoughts of it occur to her as they would to an animal. 

That’s right; she’s an animal. Perhaps even a dog would have more self-control than her, ironically. 

“Lick your mess,” you command. “Now.”

Minju whimpers. You bury your fingernails in her scalp until she loses her fake hesitance. Her tongue glides on Wonyoung’s face and relieves her of the mess. Her lips part and close, taking in her own taste. 

She looks like she’s making out with your wife. Her pretty face smudges the other pretty face in the picture and it’s so much hotter than it’s got the permit to be. Wonder how it’ll look if she’s actually kissing the real Wonyoung—picture them with their legs locked together and tongues coming out to play—and you’re hard enough for another round.

“That’s right. You want to be Wonyoung so bad? You want to be the one I drive into the bed everyday? So fucking make out with her.”

“Y-yes, daddy. Oh.” Minju’s moans fog the glass. “I taste delicious.”

 It’s probably a hygienically reprehensible thing to do. But her mouth is dirtier than the picture anyway. You force her lips deeper into it until you pull her away, satisfied.

Not quite.

Rub her clit a few more times. Hose her squirt all over the floor. You’ll have a mess to clean up. Oh, there’s all the evidence: her squirt on the floor, her lipstick in the shape of a languid kiss on the picture frame, the mess she made in the dining table where you ate her rather than your food. 

But it’s all worth it. An evil idea plants and sprouts in your mind. “Bedroom.”

Minju pants. Her hands are flat on the wall. She turns to you, saliva and lipstick smeared on her chin, and asks, “W-which one?” 

“You know exactly where.”

Her wide eyes tell you wordlessly that she got the point. She’s well aware of what room you want to use her body next. It’s not even supposed to be a question given the ways and moments you fucked her there.

“But daddy—if, if she hears us?”

You grin. “Then you’ll have to be pretty fucking quiet.”

The best thing about Minju besides her body is her passiveness. She may act up sometimes but she still needs your cock, and she’ll do anything to get it. So when she hangs her head to hide her smile, you spank her. It speeds her steps to the staircase. Continue doing so all the way.

It’s funny how she struggles to even lift a foot. Streams of your cum and hers slide down her legs, staining the carpet. You’ll have to wash that out, too. If you have the maid do it, she’s likely to put two and two together. 

Even from the back, Minju’s body is beautiful. Her reddened ass twists from side to side and brings attention to her wide hips. The deep line on her spine is a path you trace your fingertips on. She quivers. 

“Daddy,” she whines.

Hit her butt. Let it fill your palm. “Keep on walking.”

It’s borderline dehumanizing. You’re treating her with a ferociousness a woman like her should never have to go through. The eyes of the painted men and women on your walls lock on her. It’s like their hard stares are real. Minju bears the blows to her cheeks during her walk of humiliation up the stairs. Tiny yelps are caused by each one. It’s in her to be quiet now that Wonyoung is quite near, although not as close as she is to another heavy orgasm.

You slap her pussy, making her shake, then lead the juices mingling in it up to her asshole. She chews on the inside of her cheek to hide her moan. She reaches the last step with a huge sigh of relief. 

The finality of the torture doesn’t last long. Fuck, it doesn’t even exist. You collect the semen and wetness from her legs, then drag it right back to her pussy.

You shove your fingers deep in her cave. There. Now your cum stays inside her. After that, it’ll drip all the way to her womb. She screams through pursed lips. 

Push her hard against your bedroom door. Her stomach’s flatness goes up to the point that it’s the only thing engendered into the wood. Minju’s tiny gasp is already loud for you. Her beautiful side profile is mashed deep into the solid barrier between the two women.

Minju whimpers. Is she scared or heavily turned on? The thing with her is she likes both. So, yeah—she’s wet at the thought of being caught with you, being fucked within a distance of your wife wherein she could finally pin down your infidelity. 

The little angel closes her eyes when your words hover near her prone ear. “Shut up,” you warn, “unless you want to lose your career. Or this dick.”

You slip your shaft between Minju’s shapely thighs. A friction is nurtured and grown into rough, pant-accompanied humping that leaves both of you breathless. Her pussy lips splay warmly on you and you’re allowed to rub yourself on her clit. 

Minju tenses up. Her breaths are kept to a hummed volume yet their huskiness gets you to fuck her legs faster. The core between them is so warm and you haven’t even welcomed yourself in it again. 

You carefully open the door. You don’t know what you’re expecting: Wonyoung crying with her face in her knees? An anger you never knew she could have? But what shows calms you. There’s your wife who remains asleep on the bed. From the soft snores, it’s easy to tell she’s deep in a dream.

“Wonyoung’s so pretty, daddy,” whispers Minju. You push her to the footboard where she holds on tight. “Do you think she’ll want to join if she wakes up? Or she’ll leave you for me?”

“Are you sure you want to act like that?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “Depends on what you’re gonna do to me.”

Everything. You’re planning on doing everything to her. 

Push her to the small pole of the wood. You’re forced to shove your fingers in her mouth again to keep her from yelling. The contact it makes to her clit is already overwhelming. But she’s all for overwhelming—she wants the kind of sex that leaves her beaten and bruised, the kind that leaves her sore and not knowing if she should tell you to keep going or halt. 

You know what she’d choose.

Minju grinds on the pole. She’s dancing her hips again. Somehow, things of the past don’t leave her. Her idol days still leave an impact on her. The guy she made cheat on his wife a long time ago returned to her life to cheat again. 

No, you’ve never been one for sentimentality, but things have somehow stayed the same. The slut that is Minju today was a slut all those years ago, too. 

Grab her hips and force her to hump the ball of the pole. She soaks it instantly. Minju is corrupted to no hope of return. There’s your cum, leaking from her pussy and to the bedsheets. Her juices wet the pole and increase the creaking noises that would wake Wonyoung up if not for whatever dream she’s having.

“Oh, daddy! Oh, daaaddy—” she stammers, words bitten and broken in the major need to be quiet.  “Just… fuck me. Please?”

“As long as you—”

“Be a good quiet girl, yes. I’ll do anything, daddy. Anything for this cock.” 

She kneels down. Her tender mouth seals around your left testicle. You nearly shout right there and then. Minju’s running her lips on the underside of your swelling dick. She feels so good, and she is so good. She has all the tips and tricks to keep you hard memorized, if her brain wasn’t too full of other dirty thoughts.

The rasp in your throat materializes and makes her squirm her legs together. She puckers her lips then slips your cock through their joined entrance. Her almond eyes look wider tonight. Your tip pokes the back of her throat. She lets it rub there for now. You find pleasure in the texture that makes you leak. No, you can’t cum. Not yet.

Take a last look at Wonyoung before diving your rod to the depths of Minju’s throat.

It’s funny that the girl still has a gag reflex. Sucking dick is second nature to her. So is getting throatfucked. The walls of her oral hole flex to keep you in. She makes sharp inhalations only to take in the musky scent you thrust on her. In her?

Choking comes after. The orifice grows tighter which makes you fuck it harder. Saliva’s slick liquid state sheens your erection. Minju’s lost her breath a long time ago but she’s lost more than that now. The regular beat of her heart is gone. You can’t search her face for any color other than the palest white. 

“You have to stop gagging, Minju,” you say. Don’t help her though; keep ruining that throat. “Maybe you really do wanna get caught. Makes you really wet, doesn’t it?”

She nods. Your hard tip bobs in her mouth as she does. Her pretty eyes, with their long lashes and big pupils that always seem to gleam with innocence, fill with watery tears. 

“How cute.” You’re surprised that her hair is intact to her scalp after you pull it back. “But I make the rules around here. And I need you to seal that mouth shut and use it for good.”

There’s a possibility that, like Minju, you’re a dancer as well. But the upward grind of your body has no grace in it. It’s a rough, punked up beat that renders the girl humming and screaming.  This roughness is nowhere close to natural.

You dip your cock in her just to see how far you could go, how far is needed to keep her quiet. Feed her more than she could suck. Every sensitive spot of yours is on fire thanks to Minju’s dutiful tongue and hard sucking. Your sack slaps her chin so hard it’s surprising it doesn’t hurt. 

But, like you iterated, Minju isn’t normal. She takes the pain for pleasure and doesn’t give a damn if she gets wounded because of it. 

The tears finally fall from her eyes. 

The lines blur. Who is she—the woman asleep on your bed or the woman you fucked to be disloyal to her? Minju’s beautiful; so is Wonyoung. Jang Wonyoung is beautiful but there’s a category of beauty wherein the girl you’re destroying right now falls in. That’s the section for women who look pretty when they cry, who’ve accepted they’re as fucked up as whoever finds them and takes them in for who they are.

Your wife is pretty. You guess. But Minju is a beauty who lets you do everything to her, and that makes her a little bit more important.

Defile, defile, defile. Wonyoung wouldn’t let you get cum in her hair—(”I have a photoshoot, babe, you can’t!”). Semen sticks to Minju’s locks right now. Wonyoung wouldn’t let you be this rough with her—(“And what if they see? I shouldn’t look dirty to the fans.”) Minju is sitting there taking it like she’s just a cum dump. Wonyoung wouldn’t let you tear off her clothes because “they’re couture so it’s not really mine.” The coat Minju wore coming here lies discarded on the first floor.

Wonyoung doesn’t let anyone defile her. It’s her most fatal flaw. It’s the flaw that makes her husband see all the tiny imperfections she doesn’t allow the camera to see and chase highs in another woman’s throat.

So when Minju cries, gags, chokes—you realize it’s all so simple.

Slip out of her. The delusions clouding your head make you steal a look at the bed. Oh, now it’s unbelievable. Wonyoung is still asleep.

Not that it’s any inconvenience to you.

You prop Minju up to the vanity table. The counter carries the heave of her small chest. She can barely lift her head up. It makes her carry a look of humiliation that’s not at all true. She’s the most shameless woman you’ve ever met.

“Daddy… daddy…” 

Twist her chin so she can look at herself in the mirror. Her body is amazing despite the handprints and bruises peppered on her stomach, butt, and neck. She flusters but your finger presses on her lips before she can look away.

“Not a single sound,” you remind her. 

She nods. Good girl.

Minju’s a capable girl. Well, mostly. She offers those amazing dicksucking lips, shapely curves, and sometimes, her ass for ruining its own tightness. But nothing beats the feeling of her cunt. It’s all the right things: wet, tight, and perfectly quivering as they wrap around your shaft.

Minju closes her eyes. Bites down on her lip. She fights to be true to her promise of silence. Being a good girl and bad girl simultaneously is one of her versatile traits. The table creaks louder than expected. You would’ve shot another look at your spouse again, but Minju’s pretty face is in the way. Her cheeks are scarlet and her brows bead with sweat. She really is a beauty.

Your strokes are ceaseless. The thing that shocks you the least is the fact that her legs look as if they spread wider and wider. She splits while you split her apart. Place a hand on her tummy to muffle the sounds of skin colliding and wood creaking, and reach a better end: your cock is hitting her guts, making a bobbing print on her flat stomach.

“Look how deep I am, Minju.” You grin wickedly at her reflection. “You call me daddy anywhere, don’t you? How about I become a real one?”

Minju bounces herself on you. That’s a yes. A definite, enthusiastic yes. 

Your penetration is rougher, gliding on places she can’t even imagine. If you cum right now, and this far in, you’ll live up to your name of “daddy.” Minju isn’t the only one who has to keep promises.

Corner a pulse point on her neck. Her core squeezes and although its resistance is tough, your pumps are more so.

“You’ll be my secret good girl. Daddy’s gonna put a fucking baby in your stomach, and no one has to know it’s mine. No one has to know you’re mine.”

Minju pouts, not out of sadness but of the orgasm that’s creeping from her feet to her center. It’s so close she could reach for it, taste it like a strong wind. You allow the tiny breaths and pants that leave her to be exemptions from your bedroom law.

“Wonyoung would be so happy for you.” You lick the sensitive spot behind her ear. “‘That’s so great, unnie! Come on, tell us who’s the lucky guy.’ And you’ll have to stop yourself from telling her that I did it. Can you do that?”

Minju emphasizes each repetition with a responding throb and push of her cunt. “Yes, yes, yes—”

Allow that, too. Burst inside Minju. Flood her insides with cum that shall infiltrate her fertile womb. Soon, that tummy would be round rather than flat. It’ll be your baby. 

Minju got what she wanted in the end.

-

The next day, Wonyoung will wake up crying. 

It’ll happen early in the morning, when the moon is still up and sheets still wrap your exhausted form. But she’s sobbing so loud that it’ll rouse you. 

“What’s wrong?” you’ll say. 

She’ll tell you about a dream she had. Wonyoung’s going to narrate a complex dream of Minju, her beloved former member and best friend, seducing you. It happened right in the house and in front of her. You dared to do it to her while she was sleeping and thought she didn’t know.

And you?

You’ll take her in your arms, kiss the inside of her trembling wrist, and say, “Oh, honey—it’s okay. I’m here, baby. I’m here. I’m here.”

[wonjnz]

love, like it always has been

₊˚⊹ summary: gyuvin sets out to defeat some old white man's quora answer about love.

₊˚⊹ genre: fluff, best friend!gyuvin, high school!au | wc: 1k

₊˚⊹ warning(s): some swearing | inspo: —

₊˚⊹ a/n: very random slice of life moments with bsf!gyuvin so the timeline is kinda.. 😭😭 got the idea when i got sm quora emails today

whenever gyuvin wonders what love is, he thinks the amount of "expert" answers in a random quora thread about it doesn't seem to click with him.

he didn't feel some sort of fireworks when he saw you, so some doctor specializing in 'love' is automatically eliminated. and his world certainly didn't slow down when you walk in, so now a random old, white man talking about his wife of 25 years is also eliminated (though gyuvin admits it's cute).

gyuvin sighs and puts his phone down, placing his hands on both cheeks; god, this is so stupid, he thinks. if only his friends weren't the loudest speakers in school, he'd probably be ranting to them about this, but he remains determined to find out what love means to him.

ever since that night, gyuvin made it his goal that one day, he'll have the most upvotes on his quora answer and everyone will reply this is exactly what love feels like.

old white man be damned, gyuvin is going to have a more relatable answer. just watch, he thinks.

gyuvin swears he felt love when he watched you introduce yourself on the first day of school, he found it hilarious. after school, you almost cut him off from how much he teased you about it. only did he redeem himself when he willingly became your servant for 2 months, to his friends surprise (and ultimately gyuvin’s embarrassment).

and he feels it once more while you're slowly losing your mind over a chemistry assignment. the way your hair sticks out in all directions from all the times your hands kept running through in frustration, the way your eyebrows furrow when you finally get a logical answer after five grueling minutes, that's when gyuvin confirms it.

“what?” you ask, noticing how gyuvin has been awfully quiet and smiling to himself. “is my answer wrong or something?” you worry, looking back and forth from your paper to his.

he's in love.

gyuvin immediately comes back to his senses and waves you off, “it's nothing. just thought of something.” he says. to be fair, what he said wasn't much of a lie. he was thinking of you after all.

you scoff at his half-assed answer, "whatever. i'm going back to number 6." mumbling as you look back at your paper. "yeah, i'll go back too." gyuvin says, smiling amusingly at his answers (he's only done 4 questions).

“seriously, gyuvin. you're disgusting.” you laugh, pointing at the dried-up ice cream stains at the corner of his lips. "you look like you drooled or something."

gyuvin rolls his eyes, “at least wipe it off for me. both my hands are occupied.” he says while holding up his ice cream and a small plastic spoon, obviously finding a reason for you to do it. “what a loser..” you mumble before trying to find a few pieces of tissue in your backpack, putting it up to his lips to wipe the remnants off.

and gyuvin fights the urge to say “i'm in love with you,” at that moment. opting to share a few details about his day instead since he knows how you're always invested in whatever drama he manages to dig out.

damn his demons are hard to beat today, he curses to himself.

as he looks at you, eyes purely focused on his as if you're anticipating more, gyuvin's heart feels lighter than ever. he feels the slight click one quora user said in his answer, albeit very softly, to the point he might've missed it.

“that's all i have today.” gyuvin shrugs, in his defense, you were always his highlight of the day, not some random drama he heard from gunwook every lunchtime, but he can't tell you that just yet. “boring.”

he smiles amusingly, “i might have something else cool in mind though. but i don't know if you'd wanna hear it.” mentally preparing on the spot is something gyuvin wouldn't wish even on his worst enemy.

you look at him incredulously, mouth slightly agape. “what? of course i'd wanna hear it.” setting your cup of ice cream down just to show gyuvin how interested you were.

“well, i’ve liked you for quite some time and —”

"so ricky was right!"

gyuvin feels his inner demons creep up on him right after, he swears he could hear them laughing at this very moment. “..so, you knew all this time? because of ricky?” you chuckle at how quiet his voice became.

“he told me last night since he thought you were being kinda weird lately, and he knew we always go out after school, so he warned me you might confess or something.” gyuvin puts his head in his hands, whining at his now spoiled confession, “i wanted this to be cute..”

it's an understatement to say ricky and gyuvin were on bad terms for a while, though you couldn’t stand the amount of shade they kept throwing at the other, so you forced them to make up on gyuvin’s fifth day of his villain origin story against ricky.

“you know i can't kiss you right now if your breath smells like the cheeseburger you ate, gyuvin.” you point out, snickering at gyuvin's exaggerated pursed lips and dramatic reaction to your words.

“the cheeseburger you bought for me. so technically it's not my fault.” he shrugs nonchalantly, a stark contrast to how he kept whining about wanting even a small peck a minute ago.

you watch gyuvin, who's on the verge of losing his mind at the thought of at least 10 minutes with no affection, “okay, fine. i'll drink something to get that burger taste out.” he surrenders quickly to your amusement.

laughing at his defeated walk to his fridge, “not my fault you wanted takeout after studying.” you heard him mumble under his breath.

“you agreed to it!” you retort, gyuvin comes back with the iced tea he ordered along. “of course i would, why would i say no to you?” he says before drinking.

“plus, if i didn’t confess to you on a whim last week, i’d probably kiss you right now and i wouldn’t know you hate cheese breath. imagine how horrifying that would be for me.”

once he makes sure any trace of cheese in his breath is gone, he smirks at you expectingly but in reality, it's his usual goofy smile. “can you give me a kiss now?” he says, paper cup still in his hand as if it was some cliche house party scene.

“now that i think of it, cheeseburger and iced tea breath is even more disgusting.”

“oh fuck you.”

[gracies-baby]

Henry’s Wedding

(Gracie Abrams x Reader)

——————————————————————————

Y/n sits at the bar at the wedding, sipping on her drink as she feels people's eyes on her. She can feel them judging and gossiping about her while she silently waits for the appropriate time to go home. She takes another sip of her drink before she feels someone sit next to her. She looks to her side only to see Henry Abrams.

"What're you doing here all alone? Go socialize" He teases as he gets a drink.

"Why did you invite me? I mean, me being here is just making everyone uncomfortable" Y/n asks with a sad look on her face.

"It's none of their business. Just because you're not with Gracie anymore, that doesn't mean we can't still be friends. I'm sure it was her fault anyway. I love her but she's never been great with communication" Henry replies with a soft smile.

"She didn't tell you about it?" She asks quietly.

"No, she never really wanted to talk about it. She would just hide in her old room and get mad over every little thing. Weenie slept in Auggies room instead of hers one time and she got so pissed about it. It's weird, I've never seen her like it before" Henry smiles sadly at the girl before he hears someone call for him.

"I gotta go, but please try to have fun. I wouldn't have invited you if I didn't want you here" The two of the smile at each other before he walks towards his wife. Y/n takes another sip of her drink before she feels someone's eyes burning into her. She looks behind her, making eye contact with a familiar brunette. Y/n quickly looks away before quickly walking outside, avoiding contact with anyone else. She sighs when she feels the cool air on her before she takes a seat on the grass in front of the lake. She stares at the moon's reflection on the water before she hears someone's footsteps behind her. She looks behind her once more seeing the same brunette.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come. I'm leaving now" Y/n quickly stammers out before trying to walk past her ex, only for Gracie to grab her wrist.

"Don't go. We don't even have to talk. We can just sit here in silence. Just don't leave me again. Please" Gracie's voice cracks as tears fill her eyes.

"I don't need to be here, Gracie. You've been doing just fine without me" Y/n replies as she takes a step away.

"No, I haven't Y/n! I've been miserable without you! We were together for 7 years and I was happy, and I thought you were happy too but then you just randomly left me, and I didn't even understand why!"

"Because you can do better! You could have anyone in the world, and you spent 7 years of your life on me!"

"I don't want anyone else! You're the only one I could ever want! I need you Y/n! What do I have to do to prove it to you?! Do I need to get a ring? Because I did that! I just never had the chance to give it to you!" Gracie rambles before Y/n's eyes widen at the last sentence as tears stream down her face.

"You can't just say that, Gracie. This hurt me too. Leaving you was the hardest thing I ever had to do" 

"You didn't have to! I didn't want you to! We can still fix this Y/n" Gracie replies as she takes Y/n's hands in her own.

"Gracie-"

"No. I still want you back. You're not leaving me again, Y/n. I need you. And I know you want me too. Please, just give us one more chance" Gracie pleads before Y/n slowly nods causing a huge smile to appear on both their faces. Gracie softly grabs Y/n's face before pressing a deep kiss against her lips. They smile into the kiss before they hear someone clapping behind them.

"Finally! I knew you guys would get back together!" Henry exclaims when they pull away causing Gracie to groan.

"Do you really need to interrupt everything?" 

"I'm just happy you're not gonna be so mad all the time. Most days you didn't even talk to anyone. You were so boring. It was kinda fun when you cut your hair over it though" Henry teases as Y/n laughs while Gracie glares at her brother.

"That was not the reason I cut my hair. You just got married. Why are you here? Shouldn't you be with your wife?"

"I'm the one that got you two back together. You should be thanking me" 

"You didn't do anything! You getting married did not get us back together" Gracie replies before Henry sticks his tongue out at his sister before walking back inside. Gracie and Y/n smile at each other before they share another kiss.

"I'm never letting you go again" Gracie mumbles against her girlfriend's mouth as Y/n smiles, wrapping her arms tighter around the brunettes neck.

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Hi! Can I request a load era Kirk x wife!reader when he suggests (as a joke, but he’s playing it very seriously) thathe wants a “hall pass” to hook with a famous model or groupie to “spice up” their marriage cause to him, life has become boring; maybe Lars or James done it and now Kirk wants to try it too. She’s humiliated and threatens to divorce him - but he thinks she’s just joking too. He leaves for studio but then he comes back he finds that she left, but before she filled the divorce papers and called him a hooker for his “hall pass”? And he realizes that she took it seriously and feels stupid?

I hope you like it!❤

A pass too far

I didn’t know how it happened, but somewhere along the way, things started feeling... off. Our routine had become predictable, and I wasn’t blind to the way Kirk had started pulling away. He was restless, like he was missing something. And I tried, I really did, to make things exciting again. But no matter what I did, it felt like he wasn’t really here.

That night, when we sat down for dinner, I thought maybe we could have a conversation about it—maybe he’d finally open up, share what was on his mind. I didn’t expect the bomb he dropped.

“So, babe,” Kirk started, a little too casually, like he was testing the waters, “I’ve been thinking.”

My stomach fluttered a little, expecting him to say something like, "I love you," or maybe "Let’s take a vacation." Instead, what he said next made me freeze.

“I think we should spice things up a little,” he continued, his grin playful, “What if you gave me a hall pass?”

I blinked, sure I hadn’t heard him right. “A what?”

“A hall pass,” he repeated, like it was the most normal thing in the world. He leaned back in his chair, looking almost pleased with himself, “You know, like a free pass to hook up with a model or a groupie. You know, like Lars and James do. They do it, so why not me?”

I stared at him, waiting for the punchline. This had to be some kind of joke. But the more I looked at his face, the more I realized he was completely serious. The smirk on his lips told me he wasn’t joking.

My chest tightened. I could feel the blood draining from my face as I tried to process what he was saying. A hall pass? To sleep with someone else? He was seriously asking me for this? Was he out of his mind?

My thoughts were racing, trying to make sense of it, but all I could manage to say was, “Are you kidding?”

“No, I’m not,” he said, almost too easily, as if this was just another idea he’d thrown out. “I just think, you know, things have gotten kind of boring. A little spice would be good for both of us, don’t you think? We could try something new.”

My hands were shaking now. I pushed my chair back and stood up, the anger rising in my chest. “So, let me get this straight,” I said, my voice trembling, “You want me to just give you permission to go fuck some random woman, and you think that’ll ‘spice things up’ for us?”

He shrugged, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “Yeah, why not? It’s not like it means anything. It could be fun.”

Fun? My stomach turned. I had never felt so small in my entire life. “So I’m supposed to just let you do that, right?” I laughed bitterly, the sound of it breaking through my shock. “Like I’m just supposed to sit here while you go out and hook up with someone else because you think our marriage is boring?”

“I’m just saying, it could work,” he added, his voice too casual for the storm raging inside me.

I shook my head, backing away from the table. The words caught in my throat, but the anger in my chest was making it hard to breathe. I had no idea how we’d gotten here, how I’d ended up here, with him suggesting that I just let him have some kind of free pass to do whatever he wanted. It was humiliating, and I felt every bit of that humiliation rising in my throat.

“No,” I said, my voice trembling with fury. “No way, Kirk. If you think I’m going to just sit here and let you do that, you’re out of your mind. That’s not how this works. I’m not your fucking hooker, Kirk. And if this is what you want, then I’m done. I’m done.”

His face shifted slightly, but he didn’t seem to fully grasp how serious I was. “Come on, babe, it’s just a joke. Don’t overreact. You’re being dramatic.”

I felt my heart break. "Dramatic?" I repeated, my voice shaking with disbelief. “You seriously think I’m being dramatic? You want to sleep with someone else, and I’m the one overreacting?”

“You’re not overreacting,” he said, finally standing up. “I’m just saying it could be fun—”

“No,” I cut him off, taking a step back. “You’re serious, and I’m not sticking around for this. If you want that, go ahead. But I’m done. We’re done.”

He didn’t try to stop me. He didn’t reach for me or beg me to stay. Instead, he just looked at me with this confused, almost smug expression, like he thought I was the one being ridiculous.

I grabbed my bag, the tears threatening to spill, but I was too angry to let them fall. I didn’t want him to see me break. Not like this. Not over something so stupid.

“I’m filing the divorce papers,” I said, my voice steady but cold. “And don’t bother trying to talk me out of it. You wanted a hall pass, Kirk. You can have it. But I’m not your second choice. I won’t be your joke.”

I left, slamming the door behind me, not caring about the sound or the chaos it left in my wake.

The next morning, I filed the divorce papers. I couldn’t believe it had come to this, but how could I stay with someone who thought so little of me? The worst part was, I had a feeling he didn’t even understand what he’d just done.

I thought about leaving him a note, but the words just came out so easily, so honestly. “I’m not your hooker, Kirk. Goodbye.”

I didn’t expect it to hit me like that.

I walked into the house after a long day at the studio, the sound of guitars and drums still echoing in my mind. The band's been busy with the new album, and there's always something brewing—something new to get excited about. But today, something felt off, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. The house was quieter than usual. Too quiet.

I called out for her, but no response. Maybe she’d stepped out. Maybe she was out running errands. But no, something didn’t sit right. I walked through the house, checking every room, but there was no sign of her. Nothing.

Then I saw it.

The envelope on the kitchen table. My name was scrawled across it in that familiar handwriting. My stomach twisted.

I opened it without thinking, pulling the paper out. But when my eyes scanned the words, I felt a sudden wave of nausea.

“I’m not your hooker, Kirk. Goodbye.”

I read it again, blinking hard, as if doing so would make it all make sense. Goodbye? No, she couldn’t be serious. She couldn’t. My mind raced as I looked down at the divorce papers that fell out alongside the note. The room started to feel smaller, the air thinner.

I stumbled back a step, trying to make sense of what I was holding. My heart pounded in my chest. She’d really left. It was real. She was gone, and it was my fault.

I didn’t know how long I stood there, staring at the papers in my hand, still trying to wrap my head around it. My mind kept circling back to what I’d said earlier—the joke. It was supposed to be a joke. A stupid joke. But I didn’t realize how deeply it had cut her. How it had destroyed something that should’ve been sacred to both of us.

I felt like a damn fool. But I didn’t know how to fix it. I didn’t know if I could.

Without thinking, I grabbed the phone from the wall, dialing the number I knew all too well. My hands shook as I punched in the digits, my mind screaming for her to pick up. She had to. She had to hear me out.

The phone rang, each ring feeling like a punch in my gut. I tried to steady my breath. She’ll answer, she’ll answer, I thought, but the ringing only grew louder in my ear, more deafening.

And then... it stopped. A dial tone.

I hung up, staring at the receiver in my hand. I didn’t even know what I’d say to her. What could I even say? The words felt useless, like a pathetic excuse for what I’d done.

My chest tightened, and for the first time, the gravity of everything hit me.

I didn’t know when I had become so careless. I didn’t know when I started thinking it was okay to make jokes like that. To push her away. But now, standing in this empty house, I understood.

The tears came, unbidden, but I didn’t try to stop them. There was nothing left to say. I had everything I wanted, all the fame, the music, the tours... But I had never understood how much I needed her—how much I loved her—until it was too late.

And now? Now I was alone. A fool, sitting in a house filled with echoes of things I could never get back.

I looked back at the divorce papers, the words dancing in front of me, almost mocking me. How could I have been so stupid?

I picked up the phone again, but I didn’t dial. I couldn’t. She wasn’t going to pick up. She was gone, and I had no idea if she’d ever come back.

[flightfoot]

Sorry for the vague description! Actually, I am asking for #protective Adrien# in the love square. But #protect Adrien is my other need too:)

Most of #protective Adrien# are about salt Lila or Chloe and it's boring for me at all. In my opinion, Protective like a part of his personality. The type I want to see it's like he is not protective as a "perfect boyfriend" save his girl from a bitch's hand(sorry for these girls just for their salt version), and lose his other individuality.

Some of my favourite is

Penumbra by Selkie077

Little Bits of Mari by breeeliss

One Thing After Another by SKayLanphear

Looks like they are more like #protect Adrien but fine:) I love Adrien showing his fragility and insecurity.

Looks like my demand expression is getting chaotic now...Sorry for that and thanks for your work for this fandom! I love reading your ML theory.

Good day good night or good anytime for you

Oooh yeah, there's a big difference between "protect Adrien" and "protective Adrien". You're right that it's hard to find ones that aren't based around Lila or Chloe salt, they're the ones who have terrorized Marinette canonically. That really just leaves Gabriel, who's more of a threat to Adrien. Still, I think I can find some fics for you.

---

He Couldn't Remember (Falling For Her) by @purpleautumnvision

"If I was given a choice in who Chat Noir would be, I would've chosen you." "And there's nobody else in the whole world I'd rather have as my little bug." Without secret identities in the way, Marinette and Adrien get to live out their love story and put their heads together to discover the identity of Hawk Moth... but an unforeseen twist puts the Miraculouses in Gabriel's hands. When he makes his wish for a world where his wife never became sick from using the broken Peacock Miraculous, the universe requires someone else to become sick in order to maintain balance. Who better than his greatest enemy, Ladybug herself? Adrien, with his memories rewritten by the wish, wakes up in a world without superheroes, without Hawk Moth, without Marinette, without friends, and without a clue as to why everything feels so wrong. Something's missing, but he's gonna find out what. Then he'll put his world back into place.

So this was a fascinating scenario, with Adrien waking up in a world where Marinette was dead while his mother was alive, a world that as far as he knew had always been the case... but having weird feelings he can't explain. And not just him, I love how much focus Alya gets here as well! Turns out that the memories are kind of hidden, but still present, and since Adrien and Alya never got to meet Marinette in this universe (she died just before the new school year began, at the same time that Emilie did in the normal universe) AND Adrien and Alya were her closest friends in the previous universe, their feelings towards her are closest to the surface and least impacted by the memories from this universe.

The other people in this universe... well, the class isn't taking Marinette's death well. It's fascinating to see just how much her death effects them, to see how it haunts them, and I loved seeing their reactions to Adrien's weird behavior about their dead classmate who he never got a chance to meet, it shows how strange some of this can look to the outside, and it doesn't help that these are grieving kids.

Just... this is a great fic, I highly recommend checking it out!

---

Feather Fall by @a-flaming-idiot

Marinette Dupain-Cheng is a sentimonster. Adrien knows this. Alya knows this. They just wish they could tell Marinette. Maybe if they could she would have stayed safe when the Primordial attacked. When a monster mauled her with the intention of devouring the magic that made up her very being. Instead, Adrien is forced to use the Miraculous his father had used to hurt so many, to save his closest friend. And only Alya can keep him going as he threatens to crumble under the weight of his parents' sins.

I love the friendship between Adrien, Alya, and Marinette on display here, there's some great interactions between them, Adrien and Alya are great friends and both of them care about Marinette a lot, I hope to see more of this AU!

---

home is where the fight is by @rosie-b

Nadja Chamack’s voice greeted Adrien as he sat up straight, wiping his clammy hands on his pants and ignoring the black kwami floating by his shoulder. “—shocked to see our heroine fall in battle today, taking a direct hit from the akuma just as she detransformed. Parisians are torn between blaming Hawk Moth and Cat Walker for their roles in this tragedy, which ultimately revealed the civilian identity of Ladybug, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” Adrien turned off the TV and lowered his head as his vision blurred. Written for Ladrien June Day 7: Injured

I adore this fic! Which shouldn’t be a a surprise, it’s no secret that I love Sentiadrien Enemies AU. Adrien’s so worried about Marinette getting hurt, and wishes that he could help keep her safer, could tell her what’s really going on or get rid of the ring or something, but he can’t. Still, he IS able to find clever ways around some of his father’s more problematic orders. Loopholes for the win!

---

A Mousey guest by charliepoet13

Adrien Agreste has finally managed to break away from his father and make his way out into the world. One faithful night, after settling down in his new home, he spots a strange guest.

Adrien X Multimouse fic here! So this is inspired by the Borrowers, with little people the size of mice living amongst ordinary-sized humans, and Marinette got a little careless here XD. But soon finds that Adrien’s friendly and not a threat. It’s adorable and reminds me of the The Littles book series that I read when I was a kid!

---

Caught In A Multimouse Trap by @a-flaming-idiot

Adrien was having a rather slow morning. That was until he discovered a tiny superhero trapped in his home and decides to be a bit of a hero even out of his suit.

This was adorable! Adrien does his best to care for the little miniature superhero caught in a mousetrap, bandaging her up as best as he can (thankfully only her tail got caught so it’s more of a phantom pain than an actual injury) and just… it’s really cute.

---

May I Introduce Myself, Your Highness? by @chocoluckchipz

Whether picking up a stray animal off the streets or saving a dying child at the market, Adrien had always strived to be the best version of himself. Truly, he would’ve been the perfect candidate to be snatched up by a kwami, were he an orphan, dying somewhere remote after a short life full of nothing but suffering and misery. Yet as it stood, the sole heir to the French throne had little to complain about. Apart from, perhaps, a complete absence of a love life. That is until a mysterious girl, wandering around his gardens at night, catches his attention.

I love Fantasy AUs. It’s a bit unclear what’s happening at first, but it all gets explained in the last chapter. Also don’t worry about the age gap between Marinette and Adrien at the start of the story, I promise it’s not a problem in the end.

---

I hope these can satisfy you!

[rathologic]

it's frustrating because aglaya is already villainized by nearly all the characters in patho2 (yulia as the slight exception), and the point of this is that you, the player character, are asked to approach this fellow person trapped in an impossible situation with grace instead. the Haruspex, a character who is fundamentally about extending his love to everyone in the game (as described by the devs!) has the ability to extend love, platonic or not, to her! logical! so seeing people talk about how much they hate her IN PATHO2 is like extremely jarring.

aglaya never does anything to harm the player in p2 (boring choice, but that's not my point); the closest thing would be that she causes fan favorite badgrief to have a lasting personal crisis. but a lot of the violent hatred towards her instead seems to stem from her flirting with you...? and it's always visceral want to see her dead kind of hatred. sorry people can't handle a woman in a position of authority speaking somewhat impolitely to them but the "flirting" part does really bug me so I'll get into that

the single major change p2 implemented to aglaya's story was that the Haruspex can meaningfully be on her side by agreeing to her request to leave the town together. it's weird to see that disparaged by fans for her using the imagery of romantic attachment, while the player's never forced to use the same imagery in return. the escape's not "you instantly fall in love with each other and run away" it's about a way of reacting to the fate imposed on both of you by the narrative: pathologic 2 simply describes fate through the lens of romance, re: nara and the brides, re: "a fate like a good wife, emshen... your wife" (re: the option to call aglaya your wife on the train).

& there's a fascinating meta aspect to the fact she can tell the haruspex as the player has the ability to make this choice, to be the only person in the world who Could not villainize her, and maybe even help her under an extremely short time limit. her expressing attraction to the haruspex (through a reflection, even) is for once not a weird misogyny thing but a reasonable way of parsing her feelings and needs into something that you might listen to! it fits within the societal framework expected in the game, and adds a discussion of romantic love to p2's dissection of the ideal of love in general; "discussion" meaning it is given to the player to see how you feel about it, and remains open-ended.

then she doesn't even make it and replaying you Know she'll never even make it which lends all the more meaning to choosing to flee with her. since patho2 is a game at its core about symbolic choices representing love + what it means to the player to choose to undergo challenges for no extrinsic rewards! her whole quest is a microcosm of key themes of patho2 (aka: "udurgh"), and potentially, a moment of respite and genuine friendship during one of its most stressful phases. if someone felt strung along by it I have great news for them about the final impact of every other quest in the game

and furthermore the connections she sees between herself and the haruspex are genuinely there. they're both trapped in the game they both will cease to exist after it and meaning is derived, both for the player and for her ("touch me with your words"), from choosing to fight the inevitable however briefly instead of just submitting to death - and love being the only driving force that can motivate that choice. how did you miss the point about love when it's the only point the game ever makes.

[coral-nerd]

Coral Island Farmer Questionnaire!

I wanna hear y'all Coral Island fans infodump about your Coral Island farmers!! Tag a friend, start your own post, gimme that sweet sweet lore!

How does your farmer feel about:

Farming:

Mining:

Foraging:

Catching:

Fishing:

Ranching:

Combat:

Diving:

Interacting with the Islanders:

Other:

What is their favorite building material?

What is their decor style?

Who's their love interest?

What's their favorite thing to grow?

What's their favorite animal?

Bonus! What do you associate with your farmer in these categories:

Color:

Season:

Metal:

@cheeryconspiracy I'm excited to see what your questionnaire is!!

Putting my own farmer infodumps under the cut for Length purposes XD

Farming:

Morimiya: His second favorite thing in the world! His wife complimented the way he looks while working the land, and he immediately threw out every other activity to tend crops. His main goal is to have 100% FARM on his land.

Maya: It’s cool, she guesses. Tedious, but brings in the cash and that’s the main thing. She likes that she can ignore the plants for the most part.

Clementine: Ideally, she would plant exclusively flowers and let them decorate the farm for the full season. Until then, she’s stuck with the weeds -ahem- crops that will bring in enough money to live her dreams. Mermaid farming will be an entirely different matter!

Mining:

Morimiya: It’s another task to do to keep the farm running. Pretty relaxing, and nice to do in bad weather, but he wouldn’t do it for fun.

Maya: She LOVES it!! She gets to pound away at rocks with a sharp weapon for as long as she wants, and no one will say she has anger issues! Mining is where she feels the most powerful, even if it’s not skill-based. There’s practically no better thing for her to do.

Clementine: She doesn’t like being underground. Or the dark. Honestly the dream is to have enough money to just buy ores instead of going down there. But back when she was freeing the giants, you couldn’t keep Clementine out of the mines! She was determined to free them. Busted down 3 of the mines with a bronze pick-axe, she got so single-mindedly focused.

Foraging: 

Morimiya: He really enjoys it! Getting to explore the island in full, talk to locals, enjoy the natural bounty of the earth… what’s not to love! Especially when he can race around with his horse. Morimiya will devote full days to just wandering the island and picking stuff up. He used to enjoy the underwater bounty, but then... the Incident...

Maya: Hate is a strong word, but she really doesn’t enjoy it. Trudging all around, crossing paths with people, ugh. Or even worse, being in the boring underwater world!

Clementine: On land, she totally forgets foraging is an option. Literally never occurs to her that things exist and she can pick them up. But underwater, no one can compete with how much she’ll pick up in a day.

Catching:

Morimiya: As long as it fills up the museum and temple offerings, he’s happy to do it! He did once get himself unconscious catching exclusively soldier beetles, so there are definitely preferred bugs!

Maya: Bug catching is possibly the most thrilling thing she could ever do! The chance to use some real skill, finesse, cunning! She barely pays attention to what she’s getting, since the fun is in managing the catches.

Clementine: She HATES bugs. Absolutely terrified of bugs. Especially wasps and praying mantises. Her net is basically a fly-swatter to her; gets the bugs away. Screw the museum and offerings, nuh-uh she ain’t touching that! Although ironically, her avoiding bugs as much as she can means they stick around longer, since she’s not startling them off.

Fishing:

Morimiya: His favorite thing in the whole world! It’s so relaxing! Any free moment is spent picking a fishing spot for the day and just losing himself to the line and the pattern of the pull.

Maya: Hates it hates it hates it. Literal torture for her! Just sitting there, doing nothing, with a guaranteed bite on the line?? What could be worse! Why does the cruel god keep making her do it! Although, she does get the chance to defeat sharks and keep the trophies of that on her farm… and it makes good money…

Clementine: She feels bad for the poor little fishies- ack ew ew ew slimy cross, dead things EW- But luckily she gets so one-track minded that when she gets focused on money-making she can do it for literally a whole day. But mostly she’s trying not to think of the implications of fishing for merfolk.

Ranching:

Morimiya: He kinda got into it, but in the end all the noise and upkeep got a bit much for him. Besides, he wants to focus on the crops anyway. He did shed a few tears when he eventually got rid of the animals though, and he’ll always be grateful they helped him heal the island.

Maya: She will never ever ever admit this, but ranching is secretly her favorite thing. It may not be much of a power-showcase, but the animals are just so cute… and maybe it’s nice to take care of something other than herself. Plus they bring in SO much money!

Clementine: Animals are loud and messy and smelly, it’s such a pain. But if she wants her flower garden and mermaid themed farm, they’re a good way to earn enough to accomplish that. Ideally she would exclusively raise llamas, because they’re so fluffy!!

Combat:

Morimiya: It breaks his heart when he does it. He did it only to fulfill the offering bundle, and once during his depressed era he went on a rampage to enter the Band of Smiles. He still deeply regrets doing that. As far as he’s concerned, the “monsters” are just fellow creatures of the island, all beings beloved by the goddess, trying to survive just like he is. He seems to have a magical protection from them, so he’s never seen them as a threat.

Maya: She doesn’t feel any particular way about it. If it involved more skill, she’d probably enjoy doing it. As it stands, the monsters are nothing but an obstacle to her goals, and will be removed as such. She does think the Band of Smiles is weird for apparently viewing the monsters as actual threats.

Clementine: If she ever knew there were monsters, she would literally never go to the caverns. She’s already so scared of bugs, you think she could handle giant caterpillars and wasps?? She would 100% throw up at the sight of an ogre with a giant meat stick. So the goddess basically went, you know what? Let’s just skip that offering for now. And magically, Clementine can’t see any monsters!

Diving:

Morimiya: He used to view it about the same as mining, but with the satisfaction of healing the island. Then he got trapped in the merfolk kingdom for half a season and got severe PTSD, so now he’ll only go down there if Absolutely necessary for the farm, or island improvement.

Maya: Underwater is so weird. Land-legs are better. It was great when there was the challenge of clearing up all that trash, but now it’s just. Meh.

Clementine: UNDERWATER IS THE BEST THING EVER!!! Clementine never feels more herself than when she’s completely submerged. She totally cried when she got her tail, and if the merfolk would just talk to her she’d never ever leave. But until then, she’s going to make her farm as much like underwater as she can.

Interacting with the Islanders:

Morimiya: He is genuinely interested in every single person on the island, and wants to know their whole life stories. He'll go out of his way to get people gifts and talk to them, and remembers every birthday.

Maya: Doesn't give a single bother about the townsfolk. They're all so weird, and take up her precious skill-building time. No, she is absolutely Not warming up to them!! She just Happens to occasionally have the perfect birthday gifts, and why wouldn't she give anyone who asks her opinion! Not her fault she has level 8 hearts with half the island...

Clementine: Islanders? Who? What? Anyway, when will the merfolk and underwater creatures finally talk to her-

Special mention

Tokori, all of the above: head empty, no thoughts, vibin' and having a good time. Are they even fully aware of what they’re doing? Who knows, but they’re having fun doing whatever! Everything is beautiful!

Associations:

Color:

Morimiya: Brown

Maya: Purple

Clementine: Pink

Tokori: Green

Season:

Morimiya: Spring

Maya: Fall

Clementine: Winter

Tokori: Summer

Metal:

Morimiya: Gold

Maya: Osmium

Clementine: Silver

Tokori: Bronze

Favorite building material:

Morimiya: Wood

Maya: Stone

Clementine: Scrap

Tokori: Grass (not hay. Just. Grass.)

Favorite thing to grow:

Morimiya: EVERYTHING

Maya: Cacti

Clementine: Pink flowers!

Tokori: The green one

Favorite animal:

Morimiya: Ducks are pretty cool.

Maya: How dare you ask her to pick favorites. ... Goats.

Clementine: Llamas! So fluffy! But peacocks and quail are so beautiful...

Tokori: baby chicks!!! baby cows!!! ...what was the question?

Decor style:

Morimiya: Javanese

Maya: Art-deco

Clementine: Mermaid

Tokori: Cabin

Love interest:

Morimiya: Macy

Maya: Zarah

Clementine: Princess Miranjani 

Tokori: Grass

[steve0discusses]

S5 Ep 50: Tristan Hates Horses, I Think

Been a while! Tumblr’s annoying as hell changes to the text editor took a lot of wind out of my sails, ngl. It had some problems they're resolving as they go, but it was really annoying to use and to edit if you write any amount of youknow……words….

And I was talking to a friend about this, and they were like “have you tried writing it in google docs and copy pasting it after?” And I happily realized when you copy paste from google docs, it also copies the PICTURES. This has literally saved hours of my life, y'all. It has turned something that was so frustrating I didn't want to open tumblr again into something that is no longer an obstacle so I can write once more!

So lets travel to Yugi’s brain, where Tristan desperately has to make up for all the work he hasn’t done because he was just a wee tiny bit possessed.

It may be hard to pick up where Tristan is on this picture, and I hope I recorded it somewhere in OBS like 2 months ago when I finished the series because it was such a funny animation, but hot damn this boy has hops.

And  you can see him there on the ground in the bottom left corner, that isn’t a rock, that’s Tristan having toppled a man with his bare hands, a man who had a sword and was sitting on an armored horse.

Can you believe this guy ran for school president? And then lost and humbly became the janitor?

Meanwhile, Joey discovered magic.

Confirmation that duel disks are made out of old tank parts.

Realizing for the first time that magic exists, they decide to peace out.

Back in the real world, Mokuba and Roland don’t know where the hell Seto went. Which is weird, I figured Seto would at least leave a note or a text message or…anything…but apparently even if he did, he just disappeared at some point down in Marik’s old living room.

So Roland and Mokuba decided that in order to find him, they would have to take a massive Boeing 747 to find their lost child.

Some kids have a motorcycle, some kids have a scooter, Mokuba just wants the most boring ass big commercial plane that is meant to sit a couple hundred people in an awkward way. That’s what Mokuba wants.

Just Mokuba things.

My bro who edits these for me wrote in huge ass letters "ROLAND SIGHTING" While saying "ROLAND ROLAND ROLAND" so I want y'all to know how much we appreciate a good Roland in this house.

Speaking of, I know it's like season 5 but...who is the other guy? He wears funny sunglasses but I have never heard his name, not once.

But this is when the plane was filled with heavenly light.

They begin to see the fight happening between Seto Kaiba (the OG Seto, the one that is cool and isn’t depressed because his not-wife died) and Bakura (who is now Zorc). Don’t ask me how the time stuff works, and why we see it now of all the times in human history, and right over Egypt in the sky. Don’t ask me why.

I assume it’s time compression shenanigans, just like FF8, so maybe it’s just every moment in time is able to see this UFO in the sky, but overall, it’s here because it looks cool. The fact that this right here is actually not a physical place, but is actually a figment of Yugi’s imagination shaped by Pharaoh’s botchy memories--is neither here nor there. Instead, it’s everywhere. 

Seto is unimpressed by this, because he knows how science and timelines should work, and this wouldn’t pass Kaiba Corp inspection.

Back at the yellow palace made of cheese and mario blocks, Pharaoh is still knocked out from that time he summed all 3 dragons last episode, which to me feels like just eons ago. 

But it’s OK, he’s fine now.

Typically he’d be dead, because his dragons died on the battlefield and their life force is connected to their monsters. But not only is Pharaoh 1.) already dead and 2.) the author of this universe and cannot die or this universe ceases to exist he’s 3.) got the puzzle, which means he can’t actually perma die, unlike everyone else in his court who is perma-gone.

He is not surprised by what is currently happening in Egypt’s downtown strip.

This is probably every day in Domino. Every day Seto Kaiba wakes up everyone in town with his three-headed dragon princess just because he can. Hell, Seto was doing this fight with Bakura on the top towers of Domino just this morning (or last morning…not sure if time passes in real life the same way it does in puzzle life)

The audacity of Yami right now, the one moment Yugi isn’t there to scream about ledges, this boy is leaping joyfully off that ledge. 

He fuses with the dragon which gives him this familiar outfit.

I thiiiiink it’s the same outfit as Alexander season? I’ll be real with you though, I don’t really want to look it up. Either way, good to see the return of putting on a ton of armor in a card game, I don't think we've seen it Canonically since that one time Joey did it against Valon, and ever since then, Joey kind of forgot it was a thing he can just do.

But unlike Joey, Yami doesn’t take the opportunity to punch Zorc in the face, instead he just loses yet another time.

This time he didn’t even pass out, he barely even died. This is progress, truly.

But as Zorc is powering up the peepee missile to fire in Yami’s face (what a way to die!), Shadi has decided to inform us why he’s been stalking these kids for this entire show.

So there’s two ways to read this. 1.) Shadi was Hassan the entire time but had to go back in time from this moment in order to do it or 2.) Shadi possessed the power of Hassan last second so Yami could avoid death one final time.

Both of these explanations don’t fully make sense to me, I’ll be honest, because in order to know that he’ll be needed in the first place, Shadi had to know that Yami would die at this particular moment--a moment that is a different timeline than has ever existed before.

So really, Shadi was just going by a hunch. He was like “I dunno, I’ll see how this goes.” which is more in line with the Shadi we know and love.

Is it a crying shame that Shadi, who has been with us for so many seasons, and it so integral to this show had such an unceremonious death? Yeah. I feel like I didn’t quite get the closure I wanted but I’m also sort of confused as to…what happened. But I’ll leave it there because apparently we get more Shadi content in Dark Side of Dimensions.

Anyway, I have no idea if these images will even fit into a post with how how tumbler does posts nowadays, and I'll be real I had to re upload the last bit of it, which I suspect was over 15 images???? Not sure??? but we found a workaround! google docs works!

Also, Seto didn’t die today! Instead it was Shadi! For a SECOND time!

I cannot believe how freakin lucky Mana is, this girl is still kicking and if Mana survives everything I am…going to be astonished, that’s what. Mana secretly OP, who knew?

And always you can read the rest of these here

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

if I turn it into a link it doesn't work right because the text editor is really, really bad. I hate it a lot. But uh...feel free to copy paste it until I can get links to cooperate.

[anhed-nia]

It's always a little sad when one of your precious niche fetishes gets popular. I'm not proud of admitting this; on the whole, you should want success for the things that you love. But in some cases it's like the sad stereotype of the childhood weird girl friendship that is doomed by the onset of adulthood. The friendship is such an important of your identity and your sense of place in the world, but then one day your weird girl friend starts to realize that she has more potential than that, she wants other things and she can get them too, and suddenly one day she's back to her natural hair color and she's wearing bad clothes and having sex with jocks, and even worse than your personal sense of being left behind is the realization that she's boring now. It's not just that you don't have that special person in your life anymore, it's that the person no longer exists. Um anyway that turned out to be a major exaggeration of what I was trying to say about the explosion in popularity of folk horror, which was previously one of my favorite flavors of horror; I mean I guess it still is, but the now when I see the trappings of folk horror it's no longer a must-see matter. It's just as likely to signal a generic, predictable, pandering movie as anything else.

Why has folk horror blown up like this? Kier-la Janisse would tell you that it's because of her epic documentary WOODLANDS DARK AND DAYS BEWITCHED, which is genuinely great and you should see it. But I have a sense of today's folk horror boom being "an idea whose time has come", something that is emerging in the popular consciousness because of our collective experiences. Like it's probably not a coincidence that folk horror has come into focus at the same time that the trad wife trend is happening, and witchtok has become a thing. I could say some pretty hackneyed things about the psychological effects of the digital age and our increasingly technologized, disembodied existence, but I will just let you imagine them instead.

Even though I know that the whiff of folk horror no longer promises me a great time, I still watch new specimens pretty slavishly, and LORD OF MISRULE doesn't totally suck. Actually it's tense and interesting for quite a stretch, up until you realize that it really isn't pursuing any big ideas. But my favorite part of it is--this is one of my favorite things in general, where something outrageous happens in a movie and the characters have a completely bizarre reaction: A child is abducted during an old pagan festival, and the parents slowly realize this is no ordinary crime. Actually the mom realizes immediately that something fucked up is happening while the husband keeps trying to do things by the books, almost hilariously, even after they stumble upon something so appalling that it's hard to even describe. I wish I had a screenshot for you. They find this piece of...art?...that's like a dripping wet animal hide wrapped around a hideous diorama involving baby dolls and all this shit, and underneath it is text that says HE STANDS IN THE FIELD AND WAITS. The whole thing is incredibly repulsive and shocking and you can't even begin to imagine who would make such a thing, like the fact that it even exists is really bad news in and of itself...and then the husband is driving them home calmly musing, "Hmm, WHO stands in the field and waits?", as if the most interesting thing is the exact meaning of this caption and NOT the fact that they've seen one of the most arrestingly disgusting objects that you could possibly stumble upon. I really wish the rest of the movie lived up to that one construction, but I guess nobody else found that as exciting as I did!

[mjhartwork]

from left to right and top down, all my art of Nixie in order of when it was drawn (i think!). It was a wild 4 years of rping her across 4 discord servers (same world and story, but we had to change servers for Reasons)... though to her, the first and last artwork are set 100 years apart!

below is a very curt (300+ word) summary of her life thus far. this IS the TL;DR.

Nixie was originally an olmfolk crystallographer named Masha who explored the surface during the great olmish reform movement, and then became a golemancer whilst on the surface. She got kidnapped by a crazy tyrant baron and was forced to make a golem that would rule the barony like the baron did. She instead made an altruistic golem, named him DonsKrakos, and escaped, but got seperated from her golem son whilst escaping. 

She hung around in Astrax for a while before befriending the exiled prince of a small autonomous region of Astrax. They have a run-in with a demon lord. The prince took back his throne and put Masha in charge of the ministry for public infrastructure. Masha starts working on a gigantic arena that’s also a golem, because who needs boring static structures? 39 years later, Masha hears that her golem son, Donskrakos, went crazy after killing the insane baron that kidnapped her. She makes a mistake out of greif while writing the arena’s scriptcore. Then she finishes the arena, and on opening day, it goes crazy like DonsKrakos did and killed thousands of spectators. Masha runs away because she knew the prince was too soft of a leader to even exile her, so she had to do it herself. She makes contact with the demon lord and exchanges all her golemantic knowledge for a permanent draconian form. This results in her losing most of her golem-related memories, including DonsKrakos, and she renamed herself Nixie.

Then she wandered to Etharia, joined the Azure Wings guild, fled with them to Askana whent he golden capital was attacked, and started developing technology that would help them defeat cultists, such as explosives, crys-comms, light cannons, and thunder sabers, while funding their operations with her new business providing crystal-based technology to surface folk. After helping the Voidwings guild (combination of Voidwalkers and Azure Wings guilds) defeat the demonic god Zhaitan, she married Slyva Runehart and continued to grow her company into the monolith it is today for the next 50 years.

However, hidden from the public eye by her smiling face and the magic dagger that maintains an illusion of normalcy, cracks are forming in her life. Her busy corporate lifestyle cannot reconcile itself with her wife's adventurous spirit, so their marriage is crumbling. With Zhaitan dead, demonic power was weakened, and so was the spell that gave her her draconian form. She is turning into a being made purely of crystal by her own magic as a result.

[harmonyckrs]

Give Me Back My Wife, Grim Reaper - Part 9

There she was. The Divine Harpist herself.

Something about her feels awfully familiar, but I'm not exactly sure what. I feel like I would've remembered her if I had seen her before - purple skin and pitch black eyes aren't common, after all.

And as I looked her in the eye, I could feel my stomach twitching as I struggled to catch my breath.

The Divine Harpist: It's nice to finally meet my creator!...you're just as much of a loser as I thought

Harper: You're...the Divine Harpist?

The Divine Harpist: Yep! I'm the manifestation of all of your fears and insecurity.

Harper: What are you doing here?

The Divine Harpist: I'm simply using my powers to make everyone in this world as terrified and insecure as you are.

Harper: But why?

The Divine Harpist: So we can finally feel like we're at the same level as everyone else...

Vidcund: Harpist! Where's Aktu?

The Divine Harpist: He's busy running errands for me. Now if you excuse me, I've got to get going. This place bores me, and you people do too. I want to find someone stronger and more intelligent.

Vidcund: Tell me where he is, you piece of-

The Divine Harpist: Shush. I have no interest in easy prey like you. I need to find someone more powerful.

Vidcund: You underestimate me! I'll-

The Divine Harpist: Shut up. Not interested. Goodbye.

The Divine Harpist: ...Haha, yes! So much fear and despair!

Circe: Who are you, and how did you get in my house?

The Divine Harpist: I am the Divine Harpist! And I'm here to feast upon your fears and insecurities!

Circe: Oh, so you're a LARPER. Get out of here, before I call the cops.

The Divine Harpist: The cops can't help you! I'm far more powerful than any cop combined! Now tell me...where is the source of all of this fear?

Circe: I told you to get out of my house already!

The Divine Harpist: Fine! I sense that feeling of fear and insecurity leaving this dreaded place, anyway...speaking of which, for someone who's experimenting on a living human, you should really get an actual front door.

Circe: Most people have the decency to not break in. And we're experimenting on him in the name of science. We're doing far more good than you ever will!

The Divine Harpist: Really! Tell me one discovery you've made with experimenting on him.

Circe: ...We haven't found any yet, but we'll find something eventually! He's the son of the Grim Reaper, after all! He has a far higher pain tolerance than normal people.

The Divine Harpist: You keep lying to yourself. I'll leave now. I've got better places to be and smarter people to talk to...have fun having your crimes exposed to the world.

As the Divine Harpist followed the path of fear and insecurity, her target unknowingly lead her directly to the Specters.

Olive: ...Orpheus? Is that you?...who's that woman behind you?

Nervous: Huh?

The Divine Harpist: Hello!...my, my! What a lovely graveyard you have. And it looks like you've designed every part of it yourself...the ghosts here are just shivering with fear.

Olive: Thank you. It was a lot of work, and took many years.

The Divine Harpist: I'm sure the local authorities will be happy to see it in all its glory! You've even got the elusive Lyla Grunt in here...the woman with the open missing case that's been ongoing for nearly five years. Lovely...

???: STOP IT!

The Divine Harpist: Goodbye, Olive Specter. I'll be sure to visit you behind bars...

While the Divine Harpist moved across Strangetown to spread fear, Crystal had received a visit from an unexpected visitor.

Crystal: Aktu, you're finally back! You've got a lot to explain!

Aktu: ...

Crystal: Aktu?

Aktu: It's meaningless. There's no point in anything...all that is built will be toppled down...

Crystal: Okay, you're being weird, and not in your typical eccentric artist way. Are you alright?

Aktu: ...Lazlo...where's Lazlo?

Crystal: He's busy. Don't bother looking for him. You can talk to me instead.

Aktu: ...No...must find...Lazlo...

Lazlo: (Damn, this place sucks...how long has it been? Did Crystal really design this place to look like a psych ward?)

*POOF*

Lazlo: AKTU?

Aktu: I...found you...

Lazlo: Dude, I was worried about you! Thought you died or some shit. Don't send any more of those cryptic letters and run off to Watcher-knows-where, alright? Or at least take me with you!

Aktu: You...were worried?

Lazlo: Of course I was, dude! Crystal was, too!...speaking of which, she locked me in here. You know how to get out?

Aktu: I...think I can...

Lazlo: And that's the story of how I broke out of Crystal's basement and found Aktu!

Aktu: Wow...so fascinating...

Zoya: (Harper really needs to find friends who are less weird.) Speaking of which, how are we supposed to restore Aktu back to normal? He's still being weird.

Aktu: I am?...oh no...I'm sorry.

Zoya: No, it's not your fault. We'll figure out a way to reverse it later, once the Divine Harpist has been defeated.

Lazlo: What the hell is the Divine Harpist?

Zoya: Oh, right, you weren't there. I'll fill you in...

The Divine Harpist: Finally, the last house...it took all night, but I can finally send this town into an endless plight of-

Harper: Harpist, nobody's even here. They left the door unlocked.

The Divine Harpist: Hm? How peculiar. I suppose I've made a mistake...we've got that in common, at least...

Harper: That's okay. You've tried your best. I'm sure you'll get them next time.

The Divine Harpist: Hm? Why are you encouraging me now?

Harper: Because I know what your weakness is now...

LOVE.

[thekingofwinterblog]

Maybe this is just a flight of fancy - but your post about Kuma just made me think about how One Piece just abandoned it's more dialectical, for a lack of a better word, direction - instead of a tyrant being somebody who in the irony of history leads to revolutionary change, ala Napoleon, Nobunga, Cromwell or even Ghenghis Khann - he instead must be just a martyr - and not a Jesus, because a Jesus turns tables over and is not allways "nice", but just a caricature of some "Nietschean" "slave morality".

This can just be seen with how Luffy more and more turns from the amoral (not imoral) free spirit that never wants to be a hero and just liberates the world by his self consiousnes dominating the stagnatn oppresion, into a generic saviour, destined by literal prophecies that are fulfilled to the T, and not just by the end of history more abstractly - like hell somebody noticed how "the will of D" was basically overshadowed with the Nika stuff - from smiling because you are content and know that history will redeem everything, to just smiling because it is the magic system in a very boring and surface level way...

So yeah, even if my ideas may sound strange I'll finish that I agree - Kuma was kinda changed from a charachter that was introguing into one that may be more sympathic but ultimately less interesting - a mirror to the Gorosei, who were a human yet poignat critique of real politiks turning people into monster, who go against their compasion, that did destroy Ohara even thought they didnt want to out of a twisted "duty", into the saturday morning literal demons that call people "insects" - and as the devil that tortures souls in hell isn't really evil, so isn't an anti-semitic caricature that has a paralyzing stare - as "evil" as King Geedorah or Godzilla, just a rubber monster, not the evil in all our hearts...

Eh, i agree with some, disagree with some of the other things.

One thing i do disagree with, is the idea that the gorosei being pure evil is a problem. It's not, it's only a problem if all of them are the exact same in personality as Saturn.

The problem with Saturn is not the fact that he's pure evil, and like the rest of the celestial dragons he has a god complex, it's that he's boring.

He's just an evil asshole, who is pure evil, and frankly, his actual main purpose seems to be introducing the magic system that his side has hoarded for themselves, so that we'll have had a taste of it by the time the final conflict takes place.

The problem with Saturn is that there isnt much to him. What glimpses we see from the rest of his circle is that the rest of the gorosei have actual real opinions on the world that is in some part based on good intentions, or at least an appeal to the greater good. By contrast Saturn is just a Celestial Dragon with actual power behind him. no more, no less.

and there are ways to make that sort of characters compelling.

the youtuber Lowart, during his retrospective on the archie sonic comic breaks down pretty well how the Brotherhood of guardians from that franchise are quite frankly assholes... but it's the most extreme member of this extreme group, Locke, who is the most compelling character of the bunch, speciffically because he has been molded by his groups century's long ideology into becoming who he is. the logical end result, of a long line of extremism, who believes that the ends justify the means at any cost... and then explores how this completely ruined his, his wife's and his sons lives.

By contrast saturn is just an asshole, who does assholish things, because he is an asshole.

also as for him being an antisemetic charicature, his devil fruit is clearly a gyuki-oni, a demonic, bovine spider monster from japanese legends.

They really do look like that. they have been a part of Japanese folklore LONG before they even knew jews existed.

By sharp contrast, to saturn, while Imu hasnt been fleshed out in full yet, it's very clear that the monarch of the world has a much more distinct personality, with hopes, dreams, and has very distinct reasons to hate the people he/she does... but you also get the sense that Imu is a very lonely individual, who despite hard words, very clearly misses Lili, and seems to see Vivi as some form of getting to do things over again.

In other words, an actual character, as opposed to Saturn's Im fucking evil guys! look at me! im EVIL!!!

No in terms of good and evil, the larger problem is that the world government's opposition has lost as lot of their greyness as the story went on.

Dragon was a man who's actions was portrayed as a lot more grey than Kuma, a man who didnt mind his son becoming a pirate so long as he actually went out to see how the world was for himself, who talked nonchelantly with his subordinate about having brutually toppled a regime in a coup in their quest to destroy the world government.

There was a sense that he was on the right side of this war... but that he had no problems with shedding blood to get the war done.

Now this trait hasnt exactly been removed, but the way the manga portrays Dragon and his faction's actions has. Now rather than a bloody conflict with lots of intentional civil wars, post time skip it's portrayed more by relatively bloodless coups that doesnt kill that many people.

just look at kuma's flashback, where the king of sorbet was removed twice, and came back a third time, all because dragon didnt have him executed the first time.

The fact is, Oda did not need to make this conflict one of black and white, and it didnt have to become that, even as we saw the true, irredeemable evil at the WG's top.

I think the single biggest showcase of what a bad idea this was, is that Oda could have used the revolutionary army's raid on mariejois as a massacre, where they freed the slave, but also put as many world nobles to the sword as possible. as it is, it makes no sense for them not to do so while at the heart of their enemy's homebase, other than that this would have made them look very, very brutal.

and yeah, im not a fan of nika, or how it overshadows The Will of D.

The powerset of gear 5 is actually great, but It did not need some grandiose backstory that connects Luffy directly with the previous great figure.

I disagree though that luffy himself has become some savior hero. On the contrary, luffy's main storyline post timeskip is how he keeps dedicating himself to assassination plots against his political rivals, on his way to become pirate king.

That is the actions of a pirate, not a hero.

The problem is the fact that due to Nika, now he is entangled to become the next joy boy, not due to his own, personal qualities, but instead due to the devil fruit he ate... which is so much less compelling, and in turn makes Whitebeard denouncing Blackbeard as not able to suceed roger despite his name, as much less compelling.

[kiefbowl]

Not the same anon but re : HIMYM. My god. My god I could write a book on the horrid misogyny in this goddamn show. The waving away that Barney is a fucking rapist (rape by deception). The fact that lily went from aspiring artist to breeding housewife to marshal, who of course got to fulfill all of his dreams as a judge while she stays at home, unfulfilled. Ted who is the most boring mediocre man of all time yet expects his perfect little wife to be perfect in every way.

I could BARF anytime I think back on this show

It's actually fascinating to me re: Marshall/Lily that the writers seemed to lose interest in their drama and conflicts. I think one of the big reasons HIMYM was lauded in the first season and really gave it an oomph in the second was the fact that Lily leaves Marshall! It not something typically done in a sitcom, it was very compelling writing and it paralleled nicely with Ted/Robin's story (not only because they got together, but because we the audience know that Marshall and Lily are quote unquote soulmates, and Ted and Robin are not...at least at the time of writing it).

The story role of Marshall/Lily and Barney switch places at some point. The pathos of Barney's character truly doesn't matter in the first two and a half seasons. He's comic relief, he's player C for the B-plot. Very normal in a sitcom, you have five main players so you can pair two characters in the A plot (or the B plot sometimes), and the other 3 characters are doing the B-plot (or sometimes the A plot). One of the five tends to be, you know, the goof guy. He's not integral to the main over arching story, he comes in to be an imp and cause mischief and be a catalyst for some mayhem. Barney is clearly specifically written in that archetype from the very beginning. Now as sitcoms go on, these "fifth guys" do tend to have their role expanded and we will get more insight into the drama of their lives. They rarely get to be "promoted" as Barney did, even if they are a huge break-out character, like Barney was. Sometime the "fifth guy" is so break-out they become the main character, but that tends to make the sitcom very zany!! We're going to sea world! We're going to SPPPAAACE!!! etc. Barney wasn't made the lead, but his story was promoted. Marshall and Lily's dramas were then demoted.

This was a mistake, because Marshall and Lily were given a lot of story lines that weren't appropriate for Ted but fit into the theme of the show (the theme being "how are you still growing up in your 30s in the 2000s"). When should we have a family, what are our careers going to be, what have we lost by being each other's "only ones", did we choose New York, debt...these were interesting story beats for a sitcom.

I also have a conspiracy the writers were secretly torturing Jason Segel. They didn't actually care about Ted and Robin, they just wanted to make PG Saw Traps for Jason Segel. At some point the writers said "fuck our original vision, I personally want to make Jason Segel suffer." In season 8 they made him break the fourth wall (a thing they only did ONCE before to great effect) like six times already!!!! They want to kill that man!!! They wanted Jason Segel to die!!! They made Jason Segel show up to set at gun point and then gave him a doo doo garbage script on purpose!!!

Joking aside, yes it's atrocious they didn't use Marvin (the baby) as a jumping off point for Lily's career story. We had to spend time farting around about Barney getting a dog wing man (painfully unfunny) instead of spending some time with Lily's anxieties again (it's been well established and set up!!) that becoming a mother has put her that further out of reach of her art career. Again, haven't finished, but I don't think they really go back to this story beat.

only theory that makes sense is that they wanted Jason Segel to jump off a cliff and tried their hardest by making the most dookie hot garbage scripts they could think of.

[skybristle]

Would .. would you mind telling us about your clover fanon.. I am so very curious they’re my darling ever

sorry i read this and went "i should answer that" and then i forgor. i just rembdered though! some fucked up themes tho. animal death + general mommy issues and he has some Mental Problems <3 also off the bat. he's Soooo unlabeled to me but uses he/him and kisses boys. i dont think he really cares abt the pronouns though either hes literally just hanging out. ok so! First and foremost. The reason he is Like That is because he is [sparkling emoji] one of white lily's experiments! Particularly she took a deer from the millenial forest [holy animal], sacrificed it, and baked it into a cookie [she left the lily villiage at some point in the past but knows the forest's secrets still so. lol]. however he didn't really turn out and the powers he Did get from it aren't replicable,,, at this point she hasnt gone Completely off the deep end so she doesnt completely abandon him like she does for crepe later but he Did feel fundamentally unwanted and kind of just. Left her grove seeking to fufill what she wanted out of him [not realizing he's a failure by principle no matter what he does] he is by most means a wanderer. picks up his lute, grows fond of the forest animals as he travels along [avoiding villiages because well. he is kind of a freak of nature and also just general Tism makes him seem like much more of a possibly ill-willed cryptid than he is]. he has a very strong desire to become what his mom wanted from him but also develops an appreciation for the world and wants to see more of it. eventually finds himself in the millenial forest [and lily villiage],,, and while they do welcome him its clear with the way they look at him he is the Outsider and very fucked up . eventually speaks to millenial himself and he takes pity on him and gives him what he wants [immortality] so he can live up to his purpose and keep traveling the world. Eventually as a bard once he realizes thats a thing that exists. and honestly once he comes to terms with how he'll never have a relationship with his mom [the lily grove, a mess of illusions, doesnt really let him in deep enough to where she is] he just doesnt hang onto it and does what he planned to. he has to bear the horrors of immortality but honestly it isnt,,, too terrible with his aloof nature? Like. Immortal or not he's perfectly used to his animal companions dying over time and he mostly has superfiicial relationships with other cookies. i'd say the worse thing for him is he's very,,, distant a lot. it's also part of the learned mentality of a bard/storyteller [watch what happens and remember it instead of engaging in it] and learning Things Hurt once they go away in his immortality. he's been around 2-300 years and is mostly just chill. has leaned into that cryptic guy of the woods thing a bit. he really is just hanging out. he's also probably a little traumatized from all the shit hes bore witness to [especially the dfw when he put together the dots of wl's experiments and de's goals] but idk. he just generally does not caare. he eats poisonous mushrooms for fun ebcause theyr'e yummy and dont effect him because he's immortal/in a weird position of being almost divine with what he's made of. also some time post canon he meets a mostly-human robot [copperbell, my wife's oc] who's seeing the world for the first time after being trapped in the city of wizards up until very recently. they hang out a lot. two immortal guys very passionate about music who hang out. one who's very passionate for the world and one who wants to know so much about it . yeah they're yaoi eventually . the machine and nature CAN have gay sex WOOO

[maccaulayblake]

[ harris dickinson, male, he/him ] — whoa! MACCAULAY BLAKE just stole my cab! not cool, but maybe they needed it more. they have lived in the city for LIFE, working as a/an FASHION PHOTOGRAPHER. that can’t be easy, especially at only 30 YEARS OLD. some people say they can be a little bit FICKLE and IMPRUDENT, but i know them to be CANDID and VEHEMENT. whatever. i guess i’ll catch the next cab. hope they like the ride back to MANHATTAN! 

 ~ Quick stuff ~ Name: Maccaulay Blake Birthday: January 26th, 1994 Zodiac: Aquarius ☼ , Libra ☾, Leo ↑ From: New York City, New York Residence: Manhattan, Lower East Side Pronouns: He/Him

bio stuff:

Born and raised in New York to a single mother Aurelia "Rea" Blake (60), a famous fashion model from the late 80's/90's. Artist and activist. Her parents, Maccaulay's grandparents, Conrad Blake (deceased) with a lineage tying back to early finance, and socialite Effy Early-Blake, real estate (82). They were and are very hands on with their only grandson and with a desire to see their fortunes stay in the family.

Maccaulay grew up in Manhattan's Upper East Side and attended all the all the prestigious schools since kindergarten and on - a stipulation made by his grandparents, to Rea's chagrin. Having had Maccaulay during the height of her career, it was his home base.

Maccaulay's birth father is out of the picture and has been since day one. The pregnancy was quite the scandal at the time, a whole Mamma Mia situation in the gossip rags of who the father could be. In time to be revealed David Scanlen, Freelance photographer, mostly notably for his Photo Journalism from political and world events from all over the world. Based out of LA with another very famous wife and family all his own - there has never been a relationship between David and Maccaulay, child support and that was it.

His teenage years he skipped the awkward phase and could say grew up too fast. Finding school boring, he found his friends and the rest of New York way more exciting. Indulging in the easily afforded drug scene so many of his classmates were dabbling if not full blown into - he began to party and party hard.

Rea knew (that was her experience as well), instead of pulling him out, uprooted him to Brooklyn with her where she found a brownstone and a studio and began her own pursuit of her art. She didn't pull him out of school yet, giving him the ultimatum that she would pull him out, leave his friends and go to public. Or find a hobby. He did.

Mac found dance - something he still does to blow off steam today. But he'd hurt himself out of carelessness and that led to having to find something else. Enter Photography.

What started as a street project while he was all cast up turned into something much more meaningful. Mac had a raw talent and despite the glaring spotlight it may have put on his birth father. It was something he ended up pursuing.

Of course he had the connections. Not ashamed to use them. He just nearly graduated - with a name and large donation, Conrad made sure he'd get into a college. NYU it was. Where he lasted a year. Once again bored by the structure.

Opting for internships. Afforded of course by who his mother was he worked for some of the most exciting photographers forming a good relationship and connections within Conde Nast and their array of publications within.

With a natural talent - a load of arrogance and a huge leg up he's been on the up and up career wise. Mac's currently shooting for just about any and all major outlets.

random stuff:

loves the night life, hasn't shaken that side of him. is very social, and not one for settling down. has a tattoo between his shoulder blade he does not remember getting of a mermaid. (embarazzzing) is learning the drums - think's he's way better than he is

connections:

Fashion/Work World: I suppose pretty self-explanatory. 'Co-workers' of sorts. Those working in and around a shoot.

Roommate: He lives in a spacious apartment on the Lower East Side, doesn't need a roommate but for as much as he likes his solitude he also likes having a body around.

Friends: He's born and raised, Upper East Side then Brooklyn - he's been around, so really any old childhood friends to someone he met on the Ferry. I'm interested in all kinds.

Dance: He's been doing it since he was seventeen. So studios, rec hall classes, he's tried all kinds. Favors Modern and Contemporary.

Exes: He's not been the best guy to be in a relationship with so I don't imagine he's ever had a relationship lasting really over a year and then some. Maybe they tried, there was cheating, there was loss of interest idk. you know? ;D

Flings: another pretty much self-explanatory.

Negatives: In any capacity! Rivals, old grudges, parents have history, he stole your cab! Anything.

~Legit down for anything, if there’s ideas toss them out. On dash chem is my favorite and just love winging it too! I’ll fill this all out more as time goes on for sure!