#so the fact they made that step is. /huge/

[doubleca5t]

Human Pet Guy is actually just a natural extreme in the evolution of a fetish porn author b/c it's a very well know fact that if you write a lot of fetish porn, you will inevitably end up writing a story that is basically "Fetish World: the World where everyone does my Fetish" and that's all fun and games but if you're a huge nerd (likely) you'll probably end up asking yourself how Fetish World could even be possible when obviously it would be impossible in the current sociopolitical order so now you're walking through all the political and economic changes that would be possible to enable Fetish World and before you know it you've spent way more time on worldbuilding than you have on writing the actual porn. Cybersmith simply takes this one step further. He thought through all the steps needed to make Fetish World possible and then decided those steps made enough sense that he would go out of his way to advocate for the creation of Fetish World in real life which is, and I really cannot emphasize this enough, completely fucking insane. It's such a funny concept honestly like imagine if someone read a bunch of Omegaverse fanfic and then went on Shark Tank to pitch them on bioengineering men who can get ass pregnant

[divinedelusional]

𝓭𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓶 𝓪 𝓵𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓵𝓮 𝓭𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓶 𝓸𝓯 𝓶𝓮

drew starkey x fem reader

warnings: oral sex (m receiving), dirty talk? sorta. nicknames, lil degradation, reader is a switch, domme in this fic. 18+ mdni!!

a/n: this idea came to me some time ago and i thought it fit drew, hope you enjoy!

You've been dying to see Drew. You haven't seen him in almost a week. He was out of town first for golden globes party, then for some gala and now finally he was coming home to you. He wanted to take you with him, but you weren't comfortable with attending such events right now.

You knew he'd be tired and that's why you cleared your schedule for the next three days. You could also use a break and the idea of having Drew all to yourself for the upcoming days got you all excited. You were waiting for him patiently in your shared condo. You wondered if you should order some food, but Drew texted you that he grabbed a dinner with his agent, as he had to go to one last meeting with him before the weekend. You started to get bored and when Drew texted you that his stuck in traffic you decided to take your everything shower and wait up for him in bed while reading a book.

You were halfway through when you heard keys in the door and steps in the hallway. You saw your boyfriend stepping into your shared bedroom with a smile that lit up his tired face.

"Hi, baby" he said, feeling a pang of affection in his chest at a side of you bundled up in your bed, totally at peace.

"Hi, handsome" you said putting your book down "Gimme a kiss" you added when Drew approached you. He put a gentle peck onto your lips. "One more" you whispered against his mouth and he kissed you longer this time.

"Gonna shower real quick and I'll be right there with you, kay?"

You nodded, running your fingers through his hair.

"It really suits you" you said appreciating his hairstyle. Bleached blonde with his natural color already showing at roots.

"Mmm, thank you sweetie" he said nuzzling your nose with his. You let out a small giggle as he pulled back.

"5 minutes tops I swear"

"Put moisturizer on!"

"Yeah right" he called back but you knew most likely he'll forget about it.

It really didn't took Drew a lot of time to do his evening routine and get back to you in your warm bed. Your eyes were closed, but you weren't asleep yet. Drew laid down next to you, embracing you in his strong arms. He put his head on your chest and when you felt his eyelashes on your collarbone, you knew he wasn't sleeping either. You opened your eyes, remembering how horny you were this evening when you were waiting for him. And on top of that you suddenly remembered the dream you had last night. That moment you decided that you have to do something with the fact that you and you're boyfriend couldn't fall asleep.

"Drew?" your hand went into his hair, lightly scratching his scalp, to which he hummed contently.

"What's up babydoll?" he asked, knowing that this nickname always made you weak.

"You know, I had interesting dream last night..." you spoke, while you started circling shapes on his pecs.

"Oh yeah?" he asked, propping his head on his hand.

"Yeah, in this dream we had this huge house, somewhere in Italy, I don't know, and I had this beautiful dress on..."

"Keep talking don't mind me" Drew said when his right hand started to caress your thigh.

"Yeah, so I was alone in this big house, I remember that I waited for you to come home, and god I was so bored, but also I was so, so fucking horny..."

Drew smirked, he was lying above you now, he caged your head between his biceps and he kissed you, his tounge dancing with yours, a slow dance.

"And then what happened?" he whispered.

"You finally came home and I couldn't wait so I laid us on a table, Drew I wanted you so bad, and then..."

"Then what princess?" Drew asked, already hard, because he was feeling what was coming next in your story. Little did he know about the thing that happened next.

"Then I take you to my mouth and Drew shit, I wanted that cock so badly..." Drew whined at that and next second his eyes went wide as cherry pies when you told "...and then all of my fuckin spit was gone, you get that? My mouth went fucking dry, I swear I wanted to cry..."

You and Drew stared at each other for a while and then you two bursted out laughing.

"Oh my god" Drew said through laugh, wiping a tear from his eye. "You really cried when you woke up?"

"Well almost! I swear I was like, why can't I do it for fucks sake, that was frustrating shit Drew"

"C'mere" he pinned you down to bed as he kissed you. "My preacious princess" he whispered next to your lips. You kissed his neck to distract him as you slid out of his arms, straddling his hips now. He smirked, always being turned on when you tried to take control. You began grinding your hips on his clothed bulge slowly.

"You know, since that dream, I wanted ah fuck, I couldn't wait to have a taste..." you said nibbling at Drew's neck, while your hands roamed his chest.

"Yeah? Then go on baby, fuck, do whatever you want" Drew groaned, painfully hard. He always found it incredibly hot, when you were eager to suck his cock and he loved the way you were going down on him, but when you said you wanted to cry when in your dream you couldn't suck him how you liked it, that fuckin did something for him.

He didn't even bat an eye when you slid his pants down his legs and freed his aching dick out of his calvin klein boxers.

"Can't wait till they invite you for a campaign, that would be so fucking hot" you said, wraping your hands around Drew's dick. He only chuckled, but inside was going crazy.

"Up, your head on the pillows" you instructed and Drew knew he was in a treat tonight. Most of the times you knelt on the floor just by the feet of the bed and worked really fast on him. But he knew your favorite way to get down on him was when you also lied on a bed. You could lay comfortable on your stomach and you took your sweet time with him. Your hands rested on his thighs and his dick was lined perfectly with your face, aching for your velvet and hot mouth.

"Please, pretty baby...yess" Drew sighed when you took just the tip in your mouth, the rest of his cock fisted in your hand. He loved how you treated the tip of his cock. You loved to play with it, just at the beginning, licking it, sucking with such intensity that he swore he always got even harder from it.

"Baby, baby" he was whining already and you wished you could tease him longer, but you yourself were so hungry for him, you decided to give in.

You took the tip out of your mouth and started giving the smallest kitten lips. You looked up waiting for Drew to make eye contact with you. He look down right away and you licks stopped. Your tounged barely touching his cock as you started in his eyes. He couldn't say anything, he just groaned, a plea on the tip of his tounge. Just when he was about to beg for you to do something, you still gazing at him, took him all the way into your mouth. Drew let out a loud moan as his head hit the pillows, and hands went into your hair. He wanted to move his hips or pull you by your hair to draw you even deeper, but when is attempted that, you slaped his palm and reached your right hand, putting it onto his hip bones, stopping him from moving. Right after that you started bobbing your head with such ferocity that you took his breath away.

Drew was groaning and wriggling, he was fighting with himself. He wanted to last longer, he wanted to feel your mouth as long as possible, but you were treating him so good tonight, he knew he was gonna lose it. He saw that you were determined tonight and also that you're dominant sight showed off. Your arm was still pinning his hips down, you never did that before, but he found the small but effective grip of control very arousing. He decided to test you.

"You are so good f'me you know that? Fuck, always such a good girl, but who you really are is my fucking little cockslut"

Your eyes widened at that and you literally felt your clit twitched.

You pulled of his dick, your mouth replaced by your hand, which was now stroking your boyfriend up and down in rather slow pace.

You lifted yourself up, sitting on your heels, not letting his dick out of your grip. You stared into his wide eyes. He was looking at you shocked, not knowing what was coming next.

"Yeah? Well maybe I am, but I think there's another slut in the room with us tonight, Drew"

You let go of his cock, as he whined. He closed his eyes as he lied flat on his back. You lined your entrance with his dick and suck down but just barely, his cock was only halfway into your dripping cunt.

His eyes poped out, when he felt your pussy on him. He did not expect that at all. He wanted to sit up, touch you but it took one glance at him that stopped him.

"You lay here Drew, and don't you dare touch me until I get off" he started at you, surprised but noded.

"You wanted a cockslut? I am. Now I'm gonna behave like one. Using your fucking dick to please myself" you panted, moving on him, but still not taking him fully in. You leaned down, bringing your hand to his mouth.

"Lick"

Drew opened his mouth and swirled his tounge on your fingers. You took your hand away after a while and rubbed small circles on your aching clit.

"Yes, yes, fuck Drew, look at you, lying here, while I take what's mine, shit. I need, oh fuck, I'm gonna fuckin oh goddd" with a cry you threw your head back, but hoped off your man's dick. You sat between his legs, back arched as you were coming down from your high. You looked at your boyfriend's face that was twisted in pleasure but also anticipation. You went back to your previous place on a bed, your mouth inches from his cock.

"Let go Drew, do what you want, I'm just gonna taste us, okay?" you said, allowing him to touch you.

Just when your mouth wrapped around his cock again, his hands went into your hair, but stayed there not pushing your face further. You went fast again, wanting to make him cum. You worked his mouth on him just the way he liked it best and you felt him twitching in your mouth.

"Oh fuck, shit shit, I'm so...don't stop princess, you're mine, you're so fucking mine, oh I'm gonna fuckin..."

And then with the guttural groan he came, with the most beautiful, fucked out expression on his face.

You climed up to lie next to him. He had his eyes closed, still panting. You admired him with a smile, proud of what you just did.

"Holy shit, princess" Drew finally spoke.

"I know, baby" you said, pressing a small kiss on his collarbone. "That's what happens to a girl when her boyfriend leaves her alone for couple days"

"I might just have to leave you alone more often, if what you just did is what's going to happen to me everyone I come back"

You chuckled and then a yawned, snuggling to your boyfriend.

"Yeah me too" Drew commented on your sleepy state. You went to pee real quick and came back quickly jumping to bed.

"Or maybe it was more because of your dream huh? Not me being away?" Drew asked.

You smiled, getting comfortable on your personal pillow, which was his chest.

"Hmm, maybe both" you mumbled. "But this dream definitely played a role"

Drew smiled, kissing your hair. You were almost asleep, warm and cozy around his arms when you heard him whisper:

"Then dream a little dream of me, sweetheart"

tagging some people: @cameronsprincess @maybankslover @drewswife @sugardollm

reblogs and comments highly appreciated♡

[elliesanqel]

catharsis

sypnosis; after ellie had a nearly heated argument with seth over something he said about you, your best idea was to take her home, but you get caught up in the car—relieving her anger. cw; angst, smut, sub!ellie, soft dom!fem reader, oral sex, strap use (referred to as a cock), multiple orgasms, fluff, e!receiving all, not proofread, men and minors dni. a/n; can i just say a HUGE thank you for 1k on my obsessed fic, i was really not expecting it to reach that 😭💞 i love you all! basically i have ALWAYSSS wanted to write car sex—its just so hot to me so i had this specific idea💋 and im in the midst of writing lots of requests rn so they will be released soon! anyways hope you enjoy!

➝ masterlist

seth had already spat out a nasty comment your way as you walked off hand in hand with ellie. she initially tried her best to ignore the fact seth had basically told you both to leave for kissing anyway, but his next comment sent ellie off the rails and you weren’t expecting it.

a loud-mouthed dyke.

ellie let go of your hand and whipped around like someone had just thrown something at her, and her eye twitched. you watch as she walked away from you and towards seth, her finger raising to point at him, her brows knitted together. “the fuck did you just say?!” she spits out as she storms towards him, the only thing you could do was step in front of her and press your hands to her chest, holding her back.

your eyes look up at hers that were burning into seth as she never lost eye contact with him. “ellie, ellie—no!” you warn, her still moving towards seth as you spoke and had your hands on her chest, but she eventually stopped once you pressed her away firmly. her eyes finally broke from seth, falling down and inking into yours, her gaze instantly softening as soon as they met. she knew by the stern on your face that she’d better stop, especially since everyone was already staring.

before you knew it, you were hand in hand with your girlfriend, walking out of the bar, your eyes looking at hers from the side and you could practically see the steam coming from her ears. you sigh as you both walk to the car, letting go of her hand as she gets the keys from out her back pocket, unlocking the car and getting in the driver seat and you got in the passenger side.

she started the car, the engine roaring as she pulled out of the car park, driving off. the ride home was awkwardly silent—you were just in utter shock, and ellie was still very much angry. so angry that she hadnt even put her hand on your thigh while driving, which she normally did every single time—the fact that she didnt want to touch you made her anger prominent enough.

you notice ellies face, too. eyebrows knitted together, nose slightly scrunched, lips pursed and her cheeks flushed slightly, eyes narrow as they stayed on the road infront as she drove. nothing but the sound of the engine between you both, but, you decide to break the silence, feeling as though the awkwardness was swallowing you whole.

“why did you do that, ellie? we could have just walked away and ignored him.” you say, your voice low and tone soft, making sure it didnt sound like you were scolding her as you didnt want to make her more angry than she already was. she rubbed her brow, letting a sigh flow past her lips as she pouted them a little.

“well, who else was g’nna shut him up? dickhead had no right to call you that. you know i hate it when—” she says, her tone very firm, her anger obvious in her words, but you cut her off.

“i know, i know. i get it.” you sigh out, rubbing your eyes. you knew ellie was very protective of you, no matter how much of a loser she was she’d never let anyone fuck with you, she drew the line there. her hands were gripping the wheel tightly, her teeth finding her bottom lip. you found that after you’d said this, she had started to rant about it to let her anger out, but it didnt seem to work.

she rubbed her eyes with one hand as she rambled on, curses, groans and insults leaving her mouth. all this, and an idea still managed to swarm your head. how about you release her anger for her?

“he’s such a fucking—�� she rants, but you stop her by your confident words. “stop the car.” you say bluntly, with a hint of something else behind those words. her brows furrow further as she suddenly goes quiet from her rambling, her eyes meeting with yours for a split second. “huh? why?” she asks, confusion in her voice.

“pull over, ellie.” you whisper, your tone firmer now, almost seeming to stun her but she does comply, the fact that you were so strict with what you said making her pull the car over quickly and urgently. she was very much confused, parking the car on the side of the empty road. you grin to yourself, opening the glove box. “get in the backseat, baby.” you tell her.

she raises on eyebrow as she eyes your every movement, but somehow she doesnt seem to want to argue, and instead unclips her seatbelt slowly, manoeuvring into the backseat as she sits in the middle with her legs spread, seeming to get a small hint of what you were doing. especially when you were in the glovebox.

of course—ellies strap was in there.

you grab it in your hand and unclip your seatbelt, getting into the backseat. ellie reaches her arms out to you, grabbing your arms and then your hips, placing you on top of her lap as your legs rest either side of her waist. she was probably thinking you wanted her to fuck you. little did she know it wasnt like that. her hands caressed over your hips, her thumbs rubbing soft circles. “mm, y’want me to fuck you baby? right now?” she hums softly, her lips against your ear. however, you just laugh softly.

“no—you’re the one getting fucked, princess.” you grin, pressing your lips to her ear now, mimicking her own movements. you giggle to yourself as you could practically feel her smile faltering, her eyes widening and her legs spreading further. you move your head back, making eye contact with her puzzled face, your nose brushing against hers. “let me rail that anger out of you, hm?” you bite your bottom lip, watching the way her eyes pretty much fill with desperation.

she remained silent but she blinked, feeling herself getting wetter and wetter by the second, before you know it, you’d moved her to lay down and you hover over her, her jeans and boxers on the floor of the car—your skirt and panties in the same place. there was something so ironic about using ellies strap to fuck ellie with it. seems like the perfect way to go.

you strapped it on, not being able to help the moments that flush in your mind of every time ellie had fucked you senseless with this. you let the clear, veiny silicone brush against her already dripping folds, her head leans back on the car door at the first bit of contact, her eyes rolling back and her mouth opening in a silent moan.

you grin as you watch her face contort—starting to lift her shirt and move her flannel up, your lips finding her stomach. you kiss down her pretty waist, the way her stomach flattens with the sharp breaths she takes due to your soft movements, your lips pressing softer kiss on her hip bones as they arch up.

you meet with her folds, your tongue darting out to lick up her wet slit and swirl around her puffy clit. her arms lean back to grip onto the door, her hips arching up. “fuck! oh fuuuck—don’t stop. ohh, goddd…” she whines, swallowing hard as her eyes roll to the back of her head, her hips fucking themselves on your tongue.

you refused to praise her aching hole with your tongue, you wanted to save that for your cock and make her take it like a good girl. you gave her soft kitten licks, swirling your tongue over her bundle of nerves and up and down her slick heat, paying the area in particular that made her whine the most.

you could slowly feel her body shake, already teetering on the edge from your tongue on her clit, now she was sensetive wasnt she?

her hand instantly reached down to grab a fistful of your hair, fucking her pussy on your lips as she pushed your head in further. “fuuuuck baby—g’nna cu—oh god…!” she cries out, her hips grinding on your face as she fiercly cums all over your tongue. your quick to react, taking all her juices into your mouth and swallowing it up like it was flowing gold.

you pull your face out of her heat, seeing her eyes shut in ecstasy. the windows of the car had steamed up and it felt awfully hot. before ellie could even open her eyes, you had her flipped over and pulled her hips up so she was on her hands and knees on the seats, your hands curling around her hips. “you’re gonna take this like a good girl, ain’cha, princess?” you speak, voice low and seductive. you knew she was no longer angry and that you’d likely relieved her stress, but you wanted to fuck her nastily.

she bows her head, nodding quickly. “y-yes baby. shit—i—“ you instantly cut her off by rolling your hips forward, your cock completely bottoming out inside of her tight hole, which made you groan—having to stretch her needy cunt.

“uuuhhh! s—shit—“ she whines, her hand slamming against the steamy car window along with her other one, trying to steady herself as you begin moving in and out of her throbbing pussy, her ass smacking against your hips causing it to ripple as the noises echo throughout the car. any normal person driving or walking by would’ve seen the car rocking.

“s-shit…take it baby. fuuuck, your pussy is so pretty—taking my cock so well.” you whine, the friction from the strap rubbing against your untouched clit. you knew ellie loved it when you treated her like this, praising her and all—you loved it too, treating her like the queen she was. you grip her hips, although you didnt really have to—she was already pushing them backwards onto your cock as you spoke nasty words to her. her hands left two imprints on the steamy window, placing them somewhere else on the window to steady herself further, leaving two more imprints.

every time you thrusted forward, her pussy made squelching noises from her precum dripping on your cock. your hands gripped her pretty waist harder, slamming the thick silicone in and out of her needy cunt. her head arches back and strident moans fell from her throat. you were panting now, but that didnt stop you. ohhh no.

you take her hips and pull her up so her back meets with your chest and she was basically sat on your lap. a cry escapes her throat at the new angle, her body feeling overstimulated. your hands move up under her shirt, gripping both of her small breasts, giving them small squeezes which caused her to whine at your touch. “f—fucking hell—shitttt!” she whimpers out, bouncing herself on your cock. what a needy princess.

you grin, resting your chin on her shoulder as you fuck up into her, some of her hair that had fallen out of her bun stuck to her cheeks that were covered in sweat. one of her hands remained on the window, her other one came to cup your cheek. “m’close. gonna cum baby…ahhh!” her head fell back against your shoulder as she whined this—her mouth staying agape.

“thats it, thaaaats it, cum all over my cock sweetheart. doing so well f’me—mmm…” you groan, fucking up into her further as your words only egg her on, her body beginning to shake again as you repeatedly slam the tip of your cock against her spongey spot.

she shudders on your lap, and you swore you could feel her walls pulsing around you. her eyes squeeze shut, brows knitting together and with a final jolt and a slurred, whore-ish whine emitting from her throat, her cum leaks out of her pussy and all over your cock, a loud gasp following.

“ohhh my fucking god…” she sighs out, her hand slipping off the window which caused a streaky handprint, her head falling onto your shoulder. you give her breasts one last squeeze before you let go and lift her shaky body off of the silicone and she sits against the door while you crawl inbetween her legs to lay there, her hands finding your hair to play with it.

you smile contently, “feel better?” you whisper, voice croaky as you close your eyes, feeling proud. she laughs, her hands gently playing with your hair as she speaks, her tone soft and her voice quiet.

“fuck yeah. i should be pissed more often.” she kissed your hair, letting her words linger. “think we should go home, cuddle in bed. how’s that sound, princess?” you ask, looking into her eyes now.

her eyes soften at your words, looking into yours. “i’d love to, baby.”

taglist: @valeisaslut @elliesfavtoy @ttspenny @ellieswrath @willurms @slutt4ellie @stvrluvrrpres @elliescoochieeater @les4elliewilliams @eveyuyy @starwilliams @eriiwaii @vahnilla @ellieputellas @vampirq @067supremacy2 @se4ttlellie @edenspoem

[starteas]

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking as of late, nothing really coherent or anything, just… random stream of consciousness thoughts. A lot regarding Lumi, a lot regarding my online presence, and other stuff just kinda thinking about what I want to do and where I want to go from here.

I can’t articulate in in ways that don’t sound like my words turning to mush, but after the pilot releases I think I’m just going to stop working on Lumi for a while, if not entirely. I’ve mentioned it a few times before, but running something as big as that was incredibly taxing on me and burnt me out to the point where I felt nauseous just drawing the characters. I still can’t really draw them without feeling frustrated.

Which sucks, a lot, considering these guys have been with me for a long time. They’ve gotten me through so much and were huge comforts for me during the worst years of my life. But seeing them now, with all the promotional “voice” I had to put on for to promote everything for the failed campaign, the merch I had made, and on top of that, a plush made for folks to buy— it didn’t make me feel good. I feel selfish for saying that, considering the support I’d been given all this time— but they no longer felt like these little characters I made because I was sad Wander Over Yonder was cancelled, they were everyone’s characters— and when the pilot releases I suppose I have to prepare for that inevitably again.

I guess that’s something you kind of have to accept and make peace with— but maybe it’s the fact I’m being perceived at all that has me feel like this. Having 22k followers on Twitter before I deactivated it was the largest stream of support for my work I’d ever gotten, and one I am still incredibly grateful for and proud to have reached that milestone.

Maybe it’s just because I’ve become a lot more reclusive over the years and have stepped away from social media and have only occasionally reblogged or posted stuff. I don’t know. It’s been better for my mental health for sure, but it sort of leaves me stuck on what else to do. I don’t think I’ll be putting my focus into any other huge projects and just do things for myself again. Maybe draw the Lumi cast again when I have the energy. There’s a lot I could do. I guess I’d just have to figure it out.

[senka-mesecine]

I wanna reverse the roles a little bit but what if during the war the reader was presumed dead by barnes after a huge battle, and was never seen again, only for him to meet her again like a figure in a dream after the war?

I’m all for sappy reunions but sprinkle in a little angst ✨

The Ghosts of Ia Drang.

Robert Barnes x Reader.

---

The wide, dry grassland grew nothing but the dead.

It's been miles and he's gone about the business of turning each carcass sprawled out on its belly, its side, its face towards the sky, towards himself, so he could get some small measure of identification and try and assess who it was, gender, rank, serial number included, or a vague idea of age and even those with their features barely recognizable, deformed and mangled after meeting the flying end of an explosive shrapnel, a bullet straight to the mug or white phosphorous that still burned and sizzled in the hollow of a skull blasted apart, leaking into the red dust, frying their brains even as they lay butchered, necks tangled into the chains of their own dog tags, Barnes still checked, his own face split open like the side of a milk carton, the flesh of his cheek hanging limply, the wet meat slapping against the red hot meat beneath the layer of his face as he look and looked and looked; the women always outnumbered in every platoon at least ten to one, so the task of finding a female among the hundreds of piled up dead and thousands from the enemy's side shouldn't have been a difficult task from a technical point of view, but the particular deceased he was scampering over eluded him all morning, nowhere to be found. Not out in the open. Not piled up under the corpses of the men. Not impaled, bayonetted. Not shot. Not burned. The smoke filled dawn offering no answers; only uncertainty that bubbled into terror and wrath.

Thing was, you were lost.

Took a feat of willpower to stand up and collect himself after whatever piece of shit hovered above him and blasted him straight in the fucking kisser, putting one in each shoulder to top it all off, leaving him for dead; Barnes was certain, in fact, he could still feel the bullet lodged in his forehead, pulsating there like a stray, sharpened nail lodged into his bone and brain matter --- but that could be lived with. Fact that he couldn't find your remains? That he couldn't live with. Thing was, however much it filled him with primal despair, he prefered you confirmed to be KIA; clean and straight to the point. The idea you'd be MIA? Captured? Perhaps a prisoner of war, right now, as of this very moment? It made him want to rip off the remainder of the excess, malformed skin hanging off his face and throw it to the vultures and the buzzards circling the field right along with so many Hueys circling overhead; it was a victory, but he didn't feel it. In fact, when they found him, he was kneeling among the dead, a step away from peeling his own self off like excess paint. He'd be at least content finding a blown off limb of yours; an arm. A leg. So he could embrace it like a life raft and hold it for a while. Have some measure of certainty you at least bled out to death overnight somewhere in some bush. That you at least had enough intelligence to die. November 18th, 1965.

-"Barnes?"-

Someone yanks the sweat-drenched collar of his uniform.

He is immediately, on instinct, ready to fight it.

For a brief second, shorter than a blink of an eye, he hoped it was you and your dumb ass; the sunup overhead is sharp and dazing, obscuring the face in a halo of blinding light and buzzing flies; rescue evac. His head is split open, from his forehead to the side of his mouth; a piece of his lip hanging and hobbling in his mouth dripping saliva, making it too painful to swallow. Like water filling his ears, the deafness clears and the once the voice that was trying to get to him becomes more tenacious and vehement.

-"Sergeant Barnes!?"-

A soldier, that couldn't have been older than himself was squatting beside him, grabbing his dog tags and giving it a turn, inspecting his face, halfway trying to pull him towards the chopper that just landed in a windy flurry of turning propellers, swaying the stench of blood westwards. He digs his heels into the mud, like someone unwilling to go. It wasn't shellshock. He wasn't fucking leaving here without finding what he set out to find; was that simple. -"You need to get that shit fixed! Need to get flown out overseas for that; you'll be on a long R&R."- The voice practically yells over the loud, whirring sound of the Huey's spinning blades and once the attempt at dragging him to evacuate failed, Barnes doing nothing but stare off, trying to make them wordlessly understand what he's lost, another man joins in on the effort of hauling him. Then four more. He kicks. Bites someone at one point, the sack of shit who's hand he graced with his teeth marks yelping in surprise; he felt himself as more animal than man in that moment, communicating displeasure with grunts, with snarling, with kicks, with hand grabs. -"They'll add another chevron to that uniform; you made it, now get going!"- One of them tries for flattery, voice strained as they dragged him, struggling, the five of them; he headbutts a man at one point, gripping the back of his neck and lodging his own forehead, split at the seams into the lump of shit, sending him thumbling back, causing them all to pile on him, practically wrestling him forward along with the groaning wounded; those lacking half of their everything. All except you. You where nowhere to be found and he felt like someone who's brain's been zapped by electricity at the prospect that evac would head out with you. You could've still been out there. He was willing to walk back to base. On his own two feet, crawling, dragging himself forward by his nails, if only there was a chance to ---

-"A serious case of CSR. Pacify him. Don't want him jumping from the chopper to his death."-

The syringe flashes in the hands of one of the team members giving the diagnosis flatly, matter-of-factly, produced like a saber of bolting thunder in his eyesight widened against the sunlight, cold and metallic; by the time Barnes turns to fight it, break the arm of any motherfucker that dared to touch him, the needle jabs, impales and breaks inside of his neck from the suddenness of his movement and he's hauled into a chopper by countless fingers, kicking and screaming; the morning, battle-borne sun is relentless and searing, obscured by the colored signal fog of aerosol particles and red and orange pigment dye, offering no respite as he lays limp on the side of the chopper held down by two orderlies, dangling his own mud-crusted, bloody hand from its side, mid-air above the field, the vista disappearing underneath him in a blur, hoping, somewhere, somehow, in his folly that you'll reach out from the ground, taking it, coming with him.

Barnes's grip remains empty, tormented by a phantom hollowness.

Nothing but crimson smoke passing through his fingers.

---

A year in recovery has him hitched.

Yeah, he got married in Japan during a springtime that wept.

Figured a balm was needed, like an antidote to a gaping, gangrenous wound that called out to him with your voice; anything to avoid him going mad and smashing up the hospital or tearing the hair from his own scalp, killing people with his bare hands, ripping up the building one brick at a time, looking for someone to blame, turning every sick bed until he saw a mere shadow of your face, even if by accident, half-dead, as mangled as he was --- anything except being out there, out of his reach. Nobuko was a good woman, might've even said he'd relate to her and that she related to him, half of her family as bent out of shape and as cancerously disfigured from the blast of '45, making his ugly mug seem good by comparison while she treated him, stitch after stitch, operation after operation, reconstructive surgery after reconstructive surgery, metal plate after metal plate --- a sort of life could be made here under different circumstances, perhaps --- but he laid awake at night in his own marital bed, his framed wedding photo on the nightstand, with half of his face practically mummified on it, as a stark reminder he didn't have as much as a pocket picture of yours, unblinkingly staring up at the dark ceiling, overtaken by six months of nonstop insomnia and post-recovery pain, kept up an almost otherworldly adrenaline, thinking of you in some animal cage, bamboo drilled under your nails, emaciated, raped ten times a day, weeping in some pit, crawling with shit, piss and insects and he gets up one morning with his shit already packed like someone who's insides were tied with a metal wire dragging him forward not unlike a force stronger than earthly gravity itself. All he tells Nobuko is that he'll be back in some indeterminable time when he's done fighting; what he truly meant was that he needed to find you, alive or dead, even if it's the last thing he does in this lifetime. Even if he needed to turn every square meter of the landmass you got lost in, border to border, into to a glass garden wasteland.

---

July 4th, 1969, the ripped off page of the calendar revealed the print.

What could be called a makeshift office at the back of the barracks, halfway above ground, all concrete and brick and halfway dug below ground, a foxhole's soil lining the groundwork instead of a floor, a low window against an even lower ceiling looking out towards basecamp, its glass flashing, on occasion, illuminated with zaps of light emanating from the fireworks above, blinking throughout the night, darting through the night sky like an angry fire southwest of the Cambodian border --- a dented metal cup tray doubling as an ashtray overflows with crushed cigarette buts as he mules over stacks of papers; One folder box, two folder boxes, eighteen folder boxes later and still scouring ever missing persons report in the last in five years; the one lonesome positive about Lieutenant Wolfe was that he was so easily intimidated with nothing but a lingering stare when push came to shove that getting him to use the outreach of his rank to give Staff Sergeant access to this material was easy pickings --- what Lieutenant Wolfe could not do is do the work of a miracle and produce a paper with your name, anything that got stacked in some archive confirming you died somewhere, in some hospital, in the back of some military vehicle, in some chopper en route to somewhere else, that someone found you, years ago, months ago, any time at all. The fact that the ground seemed to have swallowed you that day has been like a leech attached to the back of his spine, where he couldn't rip it off, getting fat on sucking his blood. He hears O'Neill coming down the steps, recognizes him by his general sound, but chooses not to react, looming over the desk, the oil lamp flickering beside him, the long shadows of his face swallowing up the mountains of paperwork.

-"Hey-a, Bob-o, what'cha up to there, huh?"-

The Irishman tries with humor, on hand leaning over the table sheepishly.

Barnes says nothing. Sees no point in saying anything.

As if it was not abundantly clear what he was doing.

What he was doing for years now.

-"Not gonna come out with the fellas, uh-oh? There's gonna be broads!"-

Red offers with some vestige of insecure hope in his voice and Barnes looks up at him, merely shaking his hand as a negative. Didn't even want to dignify it of a full answer, even though this was retort enough. -"Eh. Nah."- More of a sound that a response; the only grace he accepted from O'Neill was the cigarette he handed him along with the service that came with operating a zippo; the footsteps that follow are hasty, overly eager; he instantly recognizes them as Wolfe's. The Lieutenant appears in the dim, orange light of the lamp like a mouse carrying a bite of cheese too big for its own mouth, placing a manilla file on the table, next to all the others. That would be the nineteenth one in a row. And that was just today alone. -"The folders you requested, Sergeant."- Wolfe fidgets setting the documents down, like he wasn't sure what to do with himself afterwards, now that his usefulness for the task at hand has briefly concluded, so anticipated, he tries for pleasantries, decked out in his college casual wear, he looked as out of place a weasel stuck in a chicken coop; Barnes was seldom in a mood for this nonsense. Now, less than ever before. -"You men shouldn't work so hard. Bad for morale."- Wolfe quips jovially, climbing out of the foxhole and it takes a world of willpower for Barnes not to visibly roll his eyes at the man's attempt at poster platitudes, so much so that his bitterness, however unspoken seeps through to Red who grumbles into his chin, once the Lieutenant is out of earshot, giving him a long, sour stare. O'Neill knew. O'Neill was about the only one Barnes told. He knew for years now. -"Sorry fuck in his sorry fuck sweatshirt from the Ohio college of sorry fuck sciences."- Red mutters venomously and something about those choice words felt like indirectly support for Barnes's cause juxtaposed against the clueless notion he should just unwind; not that Wolfe understood just why Barnes needed these stacked up documents in the first place.

Red places a hand on his shoulder, the shadow it casts over his torso as long as a veil.

Barnes stares the gesture down, contemplating it.

The sounds of blasting fireworks outside cutting through the silence.

He catches a fidgeting O'Neill longingly staring between the window and him.

He knows the words that were going to be spoken before Red ever opens his mouth.

-"So, Sarge, you mind if I ---"-

Red wanted to leave him alone as much as Barnes wanted to be left the fuck alone, the cementing of the agreement wordless and mutually understood once O'Neill removes his hand from his shoulder, taking a hint and scurrying up the stairs, no doubt feeling eclipsed and out of his depth down here, leaving him with his paperwork and lit cigarette for company --- every minute spent down here was a minute he was weaker for leaving you out cold to suffer; every minute spent here was a minute where you could've been alive yet better off dead and he didn't know which of the three evils he prefered less out of the 43,830 hours contained within five years you were missing.

Yet, despising the idleness like a mortal foe, he opens the file Wolfe brought him.

Starts reading over the sound of music and ruckus taking precedence outside.

Tonight wasn't going to be a night he slept, like many more before it.

Not that Barnes minded the nightmares.

At least in them, he could see you.

---

Buôn Anh of the Chư Prông District spread out northwest.

Go west enough and march long enough, Barnes thought, and he could walk back into it like a grocery shop; slam open the glass door and demand what's his --- the scene of crime and death - Ia Drang Valley on the outskirts of many villages, some eighty clicks from their current position while they were carried airborne over the vast, open grassland riddled with holes in the soil filled with water like a land of countless artificial, newly formed lakes caused by bombardment meant to extinct; he kills his own burning impatience by imagining you standing in the swaying, yellow plains covered up to your waist, your hand raised to wave the Huey off with a smile like a bride anticipating her groom to return, looking up from a rice paddy in place of the straw hat broad with a baby on her back that stares up at their chopper; You weren't there, but his mind could still paint you there like a specter brought on by the blinding mirage, not that he ever forgave your folk for allowing you to come here in the first place. Your pappy, your ma' and the rest of your blood relation should've all been stood up to attention and spat in the face for not locking you into your room the second you got the bright idea of enlisting. He squeezes the handle of his own M16 at the notion until he could feel the blood circulation in his gripping fingers practically cut off. The villages in the district were suspected of harboring NVA and all sympathizers along with a contingent of Soviet arms. He wouldn't deny that what they were about to do would be a pleasure. One American life was worth a village of these pieces of shit to him. Your life was worth the whole fucking country. Fuckin' apeshit, his brain chastises him, a married man goin' AWOL over a dead woman. What were you gon' do when you find her? Alive or dead.

If you were dead, he'd kill these sons of bitches right back so long as his arms and legs could serve him, and when they were done serving him, he'd kill them with his fucking teeth until they break.

If you were alive ---

-"Sergeant ---"- Lieutenant Wolfe interrupts his reverie by pointing to the village down below, huddled in the back of the chopper; the sudden flash of adrenaline Barnes felt at the prospect of all the possibilities of you being living causing him to shoot the college boy a haunted look he was well aware looked half crazed because he could feel it, his eyeballs painfully wide; thankfully, the men were used to that by now. Wrote it off to him simply being him. -"Up ahead. Elias's squad will meet us at the vantage point on the other side of the river."-Wolfe stands up, half bent at the spine, his head reaching the ceiling of the helicopter's interior as he laid down the law with the firmness of a limp dick; sometimes, admittedly, Barnes envied the snot nosed kid --- his weightless stupidity and clearness of mind. Nothing bogging that brain down but his own flaccid self importance and a rank bought by daddy's money. He wishes he was that young and that dumb; so that he could walk out of here with you in tow. Life and its fucking complications; he probably wouldn't have even had a chance of meeting you if it wasn't for the war the same way he wouldn't have lost of you if it wasn't for the war. -"No rough stuff this time; we just get in and out. Confiscate the arms if we find any and get a move on! Understood?"- Wolfe explains, almost yelling over the sound of a helicopter in flight, sheepishly grazing Barnes with his rapidly blinking, squinted gaze, like these words were intended for him and his men in particular. -"Sure, top dog."- Barnes mutters in confirmation with all the acidic sarcasm of a viper concealed as respect as the Huey flew low, the close proximity of Ia Drang Valley still smelling the same as it did five years ago and before the chopper even hits the ground, Barnes finds himself being the first one jumping out.

His hand isn't as empty as it was half an eternity ago.

Dangling bleeding fingers out of the chopper, grasping at the smoke.

This time, he comes totting an M16.

---

-"What you did in that village was unforgivable, Barnes."-

Captain Harris leans back, away from the tidiness of his desk, while Barnes stood on attention, arms crossed behind his back, legs akimbo; he didn't think what he did two weeks ago was unforgivable, even though he didn't intend to argue his point with a superior officer. If anything, his actions were tit for tat. Not that anyone here would understand that. The payback of it all.

-"And this isn't the first incident ---"-

The good Captain comments, looking at him square on, with fatherly concern.

Wouldn't be the last incident either.

-"But, I keep putting this off because you're a talented soldier and the field needs talented soldiers."- The older man's index finger points at a folder containing what would've been a report leading to a court martial as emphasis just what he meant by 'putting off this' and Barnes stares, profusely, chin raised, at the manilla file; What difference did it make? He wasn't going to be stupid and pretend he wanted to land himself behind bars, but would a genuine life ever really even be possible even if he played the game clean, finishing his tour of duty and finding himself relieved? Would he ever be able to exist normally again? Put him in front of a firing squad and it would've made no difference. -"You and Elias keep this squad at a balanced equilibrium like two pillars; remove one and the whole shebang crumbles and we'll have fifty caskets flown out of here within a week. You think I want that for these poor kids?"- Captain Harris's wrinkled brow furrows and the man crosses his arms on the edge of the table, his ring studded fingers entwining. Nah, Barnes didn't want no poor kids to die; just the pieces of shit who stole you from him, along with every cow, every hen, every old honcho, every old haggard woman and her bastard, barefoot brat in tow. That's all. The Captain stands up, something weary about him, and Barnes's eyes follow him, standing still to watch the man take position in front of the window, staring out into the barrack's courtyard only to turn towards him, chastisement peppered with honest concern. -"But, I can't have you waging a holy blood crusade unchecked and unchallenged when there's protestors on every street back home threatening to knock down the doors of the White House."- Barnes frankly didn't care if they set the darn place on fire and he decides to say just that, with all his chest, off the records. Any country that sent off women to get lost in the jungle, never to be found again, instead of rightfully staying home and raising youngins, making some sack of shit happy, deserved at least some of his ire. -"Let 'em, sir, all due respect."- Barnes retorts flatly, looking on straight ahead, towards the white wall and Lyndon's framed, monochromatic photo hanging on a screw. -"But, why?"- Captain Harris comes inquiring with genuine confusion, a moment of silence, the older man's mouth opens and closes into a hard pressed line, like he got it.

So, he's heard the story then, huh?

Barnes had to wonder just how the Captain found out.

Probably through O'Neill, who told someone else, who told someone else.

And here Barnes was, planning to take this to the grave with him.

-"You'll find, Sergeant that five years is a long time to survive, for anyone."-

Harris remarks, the empathy in his voice undeniable, but Barnes, concludes the flash of brute realism to be stinging, leaving a hollow pit in his stomach, finding the irony of it all by itself profoundly ironic; yeah, it was believable that you died, but he wanted some confirmation and concrete evidence. He didn't want to keep living with questions unanswered. How could he? Then again, was it wrong to hope you could still be alive? People can survive things. -"I did, sir."- He remarks openly, using himself as an example. A man shot seven times technically shouldn't exist as a possibility, yet here he was, standing and still in commission, watching the older man lean over the work desk, taking a hold of one of the documents there, scribbling something at the bottom of the paper --- could've been a dishonorable discharge, could've been prescribed visitation to the army shrink. Either or, Barnes didn't think anything could or would stop him. -"Don't consider the R&R a reward; consider it a forced leave for everyone's sake. Yours included."- Captain Harris stares him down through greying ashen flaxen eyebrows and Barnes's shoulder's drop; he had to find some humor in the situation --- Rest and Recreation was never something he indulged in so much so that this was more of a punishment than anything else; would've prefered it he was given a beating than this shit and he wondered if Captain Harris knew. Saigon, the paper says, once Barnes takes it from the man. He was given seven days in Saigon. Fuck's sake; what the fuck was he going to do there seven days away from all the action? Seven days away from the front where he could've been more use to everyone; more use in looking for you. -"And Barnes?"- The Captain's voice stops him while he's in the middle of turning on his heel and saluting himself out of the office. What was it? A warning for him not to waste any friendly civilians meanwhile? Barnes clicks his boots together. -"Yes, sir!"- He stands back on attention, crossing his arm behind his back again, as per habit, his other arm pressing the folder detailing his leave to his chest, squeezing it a little too hard for comfort and catching himself doing it. Unexpectedly, there's something unspoken in the Captain's eyes, like he meant to say something grand or impactful but choose not to, gulping down any and all niceties. This was, after all, a disciplinary measure. Not a picnic.

-"Godspeed, son."-

Is all the older man settles on.

Robert Barnes was fine with that.

---

Monsoon season, Saigon, and he still doesn't sleep.

The buzzing air is as hot as an oven.

Insomniac reveries in front of the lowered shutters of his hotel room turn into binge smoking and binge smoking turns into binge drinking only for him up and leave in the middle of the night, breaking house conduct, deciding to wander the rain-drenched, stormy streets at like someone forcibly removed from his natural habitat, a fish thrown out its waterbowl, left to flap around aimlessly on a carpet until it suffocates and dies. Unlike the likes of Bunny and O'Neill, reason why he never liked R&R is because he simply never knew what to do on R&R, finding the idleness stupidly murderous and weirdly degrading, and in several years of active warfare every time he was sent anywhere was because he was sent there by force by the higher up, a sort of cooldown when things got too hot, the establishment getting involved, convinced it's not good PR for a soldier to be continuously on the battlefield 365 days in a year after 365 in a year without break; not without his brain getting fried --- Barnes figured it was the opposite for him, going out at night into the sprawling neon labyrinth of the city, when all the animals like him came out as well was enough to melt his grey matter. All the whores eying him carefully, the swaying drunks parting like the red see upon sighting him on street corners and the pimps plying their wares from open bar diners that worked 24/7, blaring music late into the night, the occasional pedestrian's face in the blur of the crowd reminding him of yours. A moment's flash, Barnes imagines himself seeing someone with your hair, your nose profile in stride, a movement of hand, maybe your voice as you shout to someone else, only to pinch himself mentally, reminding himself it was just some hooker calling for her John. Degenerate sacks of shit. Barnes bitterly reminds himself, in a bleak sort of confront, begrudgingly; this wasn't a complete waste of time, though --- seven days of this trip. The first three alone he's spent looking through every hospital in the vicinity, every asylum, every morgue, every homeless shelter, every graveyard depo, every sanatorium in the vague hope you could've gotten found and ended up admitted somewhere, that someone knew something, that someone has seen you in the mass of people pouring in damaged from the frontlines, amnesiac, addicted, broke, handicapped, heads broken in, their minds lost.

He supposed he might as well turn to God.

Barnes thinks, eying the old, abandoned Catholic colonial building converted into an Christian Missionary Alliance church looming large on the end of the street, crushing the cigarette underneath his bootheel in a puddle of muddy water reflecting moonlight and the obnoxiously flickering street signs and walking into the stony, partially flooded courtyard, his footsteps coming down in loud thuds against the overgrown green moss shiny and slick with water, the sounds of music, rickshaws bouncing against the wet cobblestone streets, bike bells and motorcycle engines revving up along with the general chatter from down the block echoing through the bowels of the heavy, stony walls enclosing the open hall that's seen better days approximately a century ago, when the goddamned French were still around and running the show. The fuck was he expecting God to do for him that he couldn't do for himself? Reality was, and he should've fucking faced it by now, that you died somewhere as a POW and that your demise was long, gruesome and torturous and the he could do nothing about it except continue living with that fact for the rest of his life before the machine's that he was started breaking down and he ended up putting the barrel of a gun into his mouth or goading someone else to do it for him. Thing was, this war was on the verge of ending; he could feel it in the air, the general attitude, the sensation on the streets and what then? If he couldn't keep killing these motherfuckers who took you, what else was there to do? Maybe go seek out another war and keep killing them there, by proxy, because someone somewhere had to do pay; Barnes looks up at the dilapidated, shelled out ceiling dripping rainwater adjoined to what seemed like a church sanatorium or a Friendship Monastery, alerted by the footsteps of a lone, aged nun walking down the midnight corridor beside the form of a woman sitting on the ledge of a cracked cement balcony alive with the sounds of them crazies making a mania-filled ruckus in their rooms, overpowered by the distant shouting of what he could only assume was a night-shift doctor; the woman in the sack-like, old sick gown looks at him for a moment, catching his form down below and there it was, that zap again. The zap he felt in his brain five years ago while he was turning the wounded and the dead at Ia Drang Valley, looking for you, as feral as a kicked dog.

The woman's shocked face twists in confusion and she practically cries out.

Incomprehensibly.

-"Robert? Robert!? Is that you!?"-

You shriek off the veranda, and yes, you, it was you, that or he has gone completely dinky dau and he was flat out imagining you or hallucinating you in a maddened after nights spent not sleeping, face and voice and all; before he can even take in the fact, you've already jumped into action like someone stabbed by a bayonet before one of the patrolling nuns could even stop you, practically running down the foyer in a fever, disappearing behind several orange lightbulb lit pillars in a flash, only your footsteps audible in the darkness, leaving him convinced he could tear the building apart one brick at a time by the time you land on the bottom of the steps leading up the second story; an asylum above a church; a misshapen hospital patient gown slightly too big on an emaciated body, an old pair of clogs on your bare feet seeming like they were borrowed second hand from someone or found in a charity bin. Your hair cropped short choppily, in a haste, randomly growing in all sorts of directions like someone who was shaven at one point to prevent lice only to start healing back into themselves, both literally and figuratively. Your sunken eyes that seemed like they've seen some shit still undeniably yours, though and shiny with tears as you halt in the humid courtyard, taking him in as the orderly nun tries to grab you by the shoulder, causing you to flinch forward, back towards him. If someone had a feather, he thought he could be flat out knocked out with it. There's a loud, deafening fast train running through his head, cutting a bloody valley through his brain with its whirlwind speed, causing the plate lodged into his skull to vibrate in his brain.

Barnes sees red.

The ghosts of Ia Drang coming alive.

-"Bobby!"-

Your voice cracks, halfway a whimper, halfway a scream.

He doesn't even register when you lunge yourself into his arms.

He only speechlessly feels grabbing you hard enough to break bones.

So, this is where you were? For five years?

From hospital to hospital, sanatorium to sanatorium?

-"Your poor face!"- You remark at one point, hiccupping with distress, having gone through fuck knows what, the contemplation of that rendering him more animal than man as he wondered if you'd still want him like this, causing the whole world to fall off from its own axis as you were cradled against his heavy, labored breaths, sweat against sweat, overtaken by sobs and faltering knees, all skin and bones in his embrace, reaching up to touch his scars for the first time, hovering your fingers mid-air in contemplating and flinching away, like you didn't dare caress him there, not without permission or the understanding it didn't hurt when it hurt every day since he was blasted in the mug; fuck hesitating with anything right about now. He grabs your fingers hard, needing a confirmation that they were flesh and blood and not a goddamned mirage, placing them on himself, holding your hand to his face; the old, sour-faced Quaker nun is out of breath behind you, mere steps away, like you've put there through an actual ordeal, making her chase you, obviously angered by the presence of an uniformed soldier on the premises; fucking peace-loving hippie. -"You know this man?"- She asks with subdued niceties, outraged and ignored, ready to reprimand and you sink deeper into his arms like something a part of his own ribcage; the floodgates desperately opening in a sound that revibrates across the hall, rendering you a weeping, shaking, shivering mess.

Yeah, you knew him alright.

He knew you too.

[halogenwarrior]

This actually leads me into some thoughts that I had about the concept of cosmic horror in general and how people relate it to racism, in particular the current tendency of Lovecraft inspired stuff that tries to subvert his racism by making it so actually racism was the horror all along, with the cosmic inhuman stuff either not really played for horror at all/just used as a nod to the genre or used exclusively as a metaphor for the manmade horrors of bigotry.

I feel that this is a rather frustrating trend - what's the point of taking off on a concept if you are just going to use it as window dressing for another type of story, instead of just telling that other type of story. The thing is that cosmic horror at its best is fundamentally about the idea of metastability - the fear that anything that seems sane and compatible with life and happiness is not the natural state of things. It's nothing manmade, in fact it's fundamentally something "more natural than nature" (as we know it) It's the concept I've seen scientifically speculated that the universe is a false vacuum that, if a "truer" more stable state was created it would propagate everywhere and erase existence. It's how prions can destroy a person's brain by folding proteins into a more stable, more "natural" state in a way that perpetuates because it is more stable, which is also an entirely horrifying state. This is a real fear that represents real things that exist in the world!

However I get why people would want to subvert its associations with prejudice, because so often, from this genre's inception, the idea that there is something other, more natural but pitiless and horrifying, that encroaches upon the sanity of human values and peace is used to label other humans as part of that other, as its emissaries by birth, and this is where the racism comes in. We know that humans have created a modern society that subverts the natural state of animals, in an ecosystem of complexity they are incapable of even comprehending that ensures by its natural processes that happy times are ephemeral and suffering perpetuates. For some bigoted people, it's an easy step to say that actually, it's a certain group of people (usually rich and white people) who accomplished that singlehandedly and the others not only aren't responsible for escaping nature's amoral horror but are inherently more a part of it, and their presence drags civilization down with it into that state. I feel the reaction to this bigotry is responsible for the sense I often see that fiction with a nonhuman main antagonist, "man vs. nature", is inherently less deep and worthy than ones with a human villain or represent fighting against a manmade problem. Even though the fear of the pitiless, natural and greater than us is a large part of the human experience, the association it has often had with racism, classism, sexism etc. where it isn't just humanity vs. nature but the "elite" of humanity vs. nature allied with humans who aren't really human, have made a lot of people shun the whole concept (not just of cosmic horror but also of more triumphant stories of humans doing things like successfully curing a disease) and only focus on subversions that make manmade things the true horror. But even if I understand it it gets frustrated to see such a huge part of the human experience neglected nowadays by fiction and the pure dread it can invoke being downplayed by making it only a backdrop or metaphor.

My opinion on it, is that there is actually a good way to write a story that shows prejudice and exulting in privilege as clearly bad while still making the main horror the incomprehensible and extra-natural (and not merely a metaphor or background for exploration of manmade problems). And that is to show that those who react to the horrors by saying that some other human beings are not fellow people trying to hide from the horrors but essentially belonging to those horrors, and feeding them to the beast as a result, is a self-fulfilling prophecy. I think you nailed it when you said it's not a metaphor for privilege but privilege still affects how he reacts to it. The horrors are what they are, but kicking other people out of the embrace of humanity and into being devoured does not protect you. The most foolish thing to do is to open the gate to those things and send the people you devalue there, abandoning the other to the horror is only a step towards being trapped in it yourself! One cannot separate themselves from humanity out of privilege and expect that they are doing anything other than feeding the beast and luring it in.

seeing people talk about Jonah magnus as like. well of course that’s how he reacted to understanding there are cruel and unusual forces in this world that don’t care about him and the only way to avoid being hurt is to hurt others it’s only human. girl NO that’s how an 18th century rich white man specifically would react to that knowledge!!!! like the way that he specifically is trying to use this inherently harmful system to get on top, to assuage his own fears of death and irrelevance at the cost of others, is an extension of the way that he always has and always will move through society. this is not to say that the avatar system is an allegory for social privilege or whatever so much as to say that his interaction with it is shaped by the social systems he grew up with and more than likely bought into.

[starheirxero]

OH YEA BTW BTW. I got caught up in another fixation so I didn't comment about this the day-of or when I watched it but. The Lunar's apology video!!

And frankly? I don't see anything wrong with this episode actually! This looks really promising and there's even acknowledgments of topics I wasn't sure they'd ever bring up on the show. I still hold a lot of feelings on past episode leading to this point, but I think am overall wildly relieved that this was where we ended up. Lunar could have easily forfeited everything out of shame and stayed in that dingy apartment, not ready to take their mental bandages off yet and start the process of disinfecting the wounds.

But they swallowed their pride and not only initiated the conversation but also admitted they were wrong!! They were just dripping with vulnerability in this episode and ghod don't I know that takes a lot. I must confess I am also terribly excited for their conversation with Eclipse because I feel like, this time around, it will actually be more of a conversation instead of... Lunar talking at Eclipse about how they're not scared of him anymore while Eclipse tries to rile them up.

Because Eclipse is at a place where he has actually changed for the better and because Lunar is at a place where masking doesn't do them good anymore, I feel like they will actually have to both contribute time the conversation instead of it just being like it was last time. I am,,, very hopeful for whatever happens in it, to be quite honest HSJABD

I'll also add that honestly, most of my worries stem from just,,, wondering how this is going to be moving forward. Like, in a more meta sense. Earth had acknowledged that trauma takes a long time to heal, but I worry that process may be sped up for the sake of videos. Not to mention, Earth honestly has every right to be upset at Lunar, like, forever tbh. They did something that is going to affect her for the rest of her life. I'm worried this is gunna be, like,,, a wedge between them for good.

I actually have a lot of thoughts abt how things were and are and will be around this but uhm I have talked so much longer than I intended to so that's all for now. Overall, happy with this direction!!

[methinmycoffee]

Season 16 rankings!

From best to worst:

Cash for Gold (Ep. 2)

Butterballs (Ep. 5)

Going Native (Ep. 11)

Reverse Cowgirl (Ep. 1)

Jewpacabra (Ep. 4)

Cartman Finds Love (Ep. 7)

Sarcastaball (Ep. 8)

Raising the Bar (Ep. 9)

Insecurity (Ep. 10)

A Scause for Applause (Ep. 13)

I Should Have Never Gone Ziplining (Ep. 6)

A Nightmare on FaceTime (Ep. 12)

Faith Hilling (Ep. 3)

Obama Wins! (Ep. 14)

[neverbeforeandneversince]

you guys… I went out to dinner last night !!!!

[square-braxket]

i think i may have found an academic article about in the earth ⁉️⁉️i will have to read it in full but i Have linked it on my google docs [shameless self promotion]

[foldingfittedsheets]

In honor of my nine year anniversary with my beloved wife please enjoy a story from our third date.

Just gonna reemphasize that. Our third date. We were still very much getting to know each other. We were virtually strangers.

We had been intending to do a meetup at a nerdy cafe with a group of people, but unbeknownst to us there had been a tragedy in the group and everyone else bailed. My beloved and I made the best of it. We had a nice date. I horrified them by eating sliders in three bites but it wasn’t a deal breaker.

Afterward I was driving us back to my place when a car came up and rear ended me. It was a pretty light bump but I was still like, well. That car hit me, time to pull over and exchange info.

Except the other car decided to instead shoot past me and drive away.

Infuriated, I pursued.

From the passenger seat, a captive on a third date with someone else in control of the car and pursuing strangers into the darkness, my beloved said, “Uh, what’s the plan here?”

“They hit me! We need to exchange information!”

Indeed. I did not have a plan. The plan was that when you hit someone with your car you exchanged insurance information. I would pursue until that happened.

The offending car led us a merry chase and as I followed through winding pitch black forest roads I felt the tiniest inkling of misgiving. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea? Pursuing someone into the darkness? But I persisted.

I wasn’t being propelled by a plan or even stubbornness but instead I followed a blazing righteousness. Fundamentally I knew that when you hit someone’s car you talked to them afterward. It was an inexorable fact. They would not escape the talking portion of this event.

When the car pulled into a trailer park I fully realized that this was not, in fact, a good idea. Inside the other car was a couple who were clearly having an argument and it seemed increasingly unlikely that they had insurance info to swap.

With a sigh I said, “Will you pull out your flashlight? Let’s see if my bumper is damaged.”

We got out of the car and inspected my bumper together. It actually looked fine, and I was about to call it when the woman got out. It was instantly clear she was under some chemical influence, her pupils dilated absurdly large. She attempted a poor performance as she said, “Oh, did we hit you?”

“Yeah,” I said flatly, “but I think it’s fine. I don’t see any damage.”

“We weren’t sure, uh, if we did, we didn’t think we did but we just weren’t sure.” She shifted anxiously foot to foot.

It was time to leave, a fact which became clearer when the man stepped out, eyes buzzing in his skull. He feigned innocence and radiated an aura of someone barely tethered to reality. My beloved and I waved them off and got back in my car to drive away.

As we did my beloved let out a huge gust of air as if they’d been holding their breath.

“Are you okay?”

“I was so squared up ready to fight them,” they said. “I’m glad we didn’t.”

I turned to look at them in astonishment. “Why would we have fought?”

“Are you joking? You followed them at 11pm to a trailer park! The second we got out of the car I was in a fighting stance. What did you think would happen?”

“I- I don’t know. That we’d talk and then go home? But. I can see now that driving after a car that tried to do a hit and run may not have been that safe…”

“You think!!!”

We sat in silence for a while before we burst out in relieved laughter.

“You were ready to fight?” I asked.

“I do kung fu! That guy looked so shady, I was ready to kick his ass, but I really didn’t want to.”

Unbelievably, they agreed to more dates, and eventually married me, but more often than not they’re the one driving.

[no-144444]

new meetings- o.piastri

summary: oscar is terrified for you to meet his family, funnily enough, you already know a few of them...

pairing: oscar piastri x fem! famous! reader

a/n: PRAYING FOR AN OP81 WIN TOMORROW

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Mae was a very convincing person when she wanted to be, and being her big brother, Oscar genuinely wanted to give her whatever she wanted. But meeting you? That was something he was dreading. 

He’d made the mistake of leaving his phone on the counter unlocked when he was making dinner, and she saw your messages in his phone. What followed was a very awkward explanation that you two had been seeing each other for the past few months, but he wasn’t going to introduce you to his family yet, he just… wasn’t ready. Which was fair. But Nicole protested, and so did all of his sisters, so he had no choice but to offer you a paddock pass for Australia, and hope you were busy. 

You weren’t. And you were much too supportive of him to not attend. So he was, in simple terms, fucked. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

“You can’t be weird,” he sighed as he walked his sisters through the paddock. “Just be… normal.” 

“We are being normal, you’re the one sweating right now,” Hattie chuckled. 

Oscar pulled at the collar of his team kit, and genuinely prayed hiss otters wouldn’t be so awkward with you. He didn’t want to scare you off. 

“Come on Osc, we’re cool!” Tim chuckled, clapping a hand on his back. “Jesus, you are sweaty,” he mumbled as he wiped his hand on his shorts. 

“Fuck,” he whispered under his breath. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

You sat with Alex Dunne, one of the development drivers who was in F2, just chatting casually. 

“Osc, hey,” you smiled easily, wrapping your arms around his neck, then grimacing. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, but his voice was much too high, and his grip on your waist was much too tight. You raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry about what’s going to happen now,” he whispered and kissed your cheek. 

You turned your head and saw his family, but also your great Pilates buddy, Nicole. Your jaw dropped as hers did at the same time. “Nicole? Shut up!” You clapped a hand over your mouth, a soft laugh coming out. She walked up to you and wrapped her arms around you in a gentle hug. “How are you?” You asked, hugging her back. 

Oscar looked between the two of you, shocked. 

“I’m great! How are you sweetheart?” She asked, looking you over. “You look beautiful.” 

“Thank you,” you smiled brightly. “You look gorgeous, by the way,” you smiled. 

She pulled you in again. “When are you coming back to Pilates?” She begged and you giggled. 

“Soon, I promise. I just finished filming in Toronto so I’m back in Australia for the foreseeable, lest Oscar needs my support at races,” you beamed, looking at him with all the pride in the world. His face was contorted into one of confusion and mild disgust? You stared at him and cupped his cheek, curious. “What’s wrong?”

“You know my mum?” He questioned. 

“Of course I do,” you shrugged. “We do Pilates together.”

Again, he was perplexed about the fact neither of you had mentioned it. “I know I’m bad at telling people things, but this is next level.”

Nicole scoffed. “Who didn’t tell me they were extending their contract?” 

He was pretty quiet after that. 

“I’m Mae!” She interjected, walking up beside you and Nicole. “I’m a huge fan.”

Oscar face-planted. So cool. 

“Nice to meet you Mae, I’m Y/n,” you smiled, pulling her in for a hug. 

“I’m Hattie,” she smiled, greeting you. “I got you this,” she handed you a sticker of Oscar as a sonny angel. You gasped, taking it from her hand. 

“I love it!” You beamed. “It’s so cute, thank you so much!”

Never did Oscar ever think he’d see himself as a sonny angel, but he did know it was right up your alley, and some of the anxiety in his chest eased as he watched you effortlessly mix with his family. 

“I’m Tim,” he stepped forward. 

“Fuck off Tim,” you chuckled, pulling him into a hug. “How are you?”

Oscar was once again confused. 

“I'm great, Bug, thank you,” he smiled. “How are you?”

“Bug?” Oscar commented, but it was drowned out by the conversation flowing freely, Eddie joining in. 

He watched for about 30 minutes with a bright smile on his face as you mixed in perfectly with his family. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

His hands trailing up your shirt, exposing skin as the sun set outside the window. The way his lips were moving against yours, the way his hands felt on your body, the way he reacted to the things you were doing. He was addictive. 

“How do you know my stepdad?” Oscar questioned as he pulled back from kissing you. You looked up at him, unimpressed. You propped yourself up on your elbows. 

“You think about Tim when we’re making out?” You questioned and the look on his face was enough to tell you he didn’t. You chuckled. “I’ve worked with him before.”

“Where?”

“On a film,” you explained. “When I was really young.”

He nodded, and lay beside you. “How didn’t I know this?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know, Ithink I would’ve mentioned it if I thought it was important.”

“And you know my mum?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded and kissed his cheek, trying to get him back into the mood. “Pilates.”

He wrapped his arms around your waist as you lay on top of him, pressing kisses to his neck. “And I didn’t know this?”

“Evidently not,” you smirked. “Did you feel the need to?”

“I don’t know,” he huffed. “I was just so…-”

“Nervous? For today?” You stifled a laugh. He shot you a dirty look and you chuckled. “I didn’t notice, actually.” 

He huffed and nodded. “It was pretty obvious,” he sighed, burying his head in your neck. “I don’t know, maybe I would’ve just… been a little less stressed if I knew you knew them already,” he shrugged. “I just… maybe wouldn’t have been so-”

“Anal?” You offered. “Militarial?”

“Worried,” he finished for himself as he shot you yet another dirty look, making you laugh, yet again. 

“Why would you be worried?” You questioned, cupping his cheeks. “I love you.”

He rolled his eyes, trying to stop his heart beat from racing and attempting to ignore the butterflies in his stomach. “I love you too,” he admitted. “But I’m afraid I’m going to scare you away.” 

You stared at him with a raised eyebrow, and sat up (aka you straddled him which meant this conversation was going to be a lot harder to keep his mind on. Also, harder- did you see what I did there 😝). “Why would you scare me away?” You gently pulled a hand through his hair. 

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I don’t have a regular job, I’m weirdly famous, I drive very dangerous cars, I’m extremely awkward at all of your events, I’m-“ 

“I love you, Osc. Anything you say won’t change that,” you shook your head. “I love you.”

It hit him deep in the chest, so much he was sure it would’ve made him double over, had he been standing. A soft smile crept its way onto his face and he pulled you down to kiss him again. Your hands traveled under his shirt, and the kiss was back. 

“I love you too,” he mumbled against your lips. You pulled back and tried not to notice how beautiful you looked with swollen lips and smushed lipstick, but it was pretty hard not to. “So fucking much.”

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

mclaren masterlist

navigation for my blog :)

[amoressb]

───── TWO IDIOTS IN LOVE 西村 力 N. RK

ꪆৎ ⋆˚࿔ just two best friends being oblivious to their love for each other ｡｡ bestfriend!riki x reader . fluff & wc. 1.0k ; kissing, skinship ｡｡

──── ARCHiVE

riki and you had been best friends since middle school. the type of best friends who communicated through facial expressions alone, who texted each other memes at three in the morning, and who had an entire language of inside jokes no one else could understand. you two bickered like an old married couple, stole food off each other’s plates without permission, and shared your wildest dreams without hesitation.

too bad you two were completely oblivious to the fact that you were in love with each other. so when riki surprised you with tickets to universal studios, you had tackled him in a hug, nearly knocking him over.

“you are officially my favorite person ever,” you declared, eyes sparkling. “i better be, these tickets were not cheap,” riki joked, though he looked pretty pleased with himself.

the moment you two stepped into the park, the chaos began. both running from ride to ride like little kids, shoving each other playfully as you two argued over what to do next. you screamed the loudest on roller coasters (riki swore you shattered his eardrum on jurassic world), while riki attempted to set a new personal record for how many butterbeer flavored treats a person could consume in one day.

“are you sure you should be eating another one?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as riki took a huge bite of a butterbeer flavored churro.

riki waved you off, “please, my stomach is built for this.”

not even an hour later, he was groaning on a bench, his head in your lap as you laughed mercilessly at his misery.

“laugh it up,” he grumbled. “oh, i will,” you teased, poking his cheek. “this is what you get for underestimating butterbeer.”

by nightfall, you two finally made your way to super nintendo world. the moment you stepped in, both of you were hit with an overwhelming sense of nostalgia. the neon lit mushroom kingdom surrounded you and riki, the familiar game music playing softly in the background.

“riki.” you grabbed his arm, shaking him with excitement. “we’re in mario land!”

“i know,” riki grinned. “this is literally my childhood dream come true!”

“okay, we have to go on mario kart : bowsers challenge,” you said, practically vibrating with excitement.

“oh, absolutely,” riki agreed. “and i’m so ready to destroy you.”

“in your dreams, loser.”

as soon as you got into your karts, the competition began. you threw yourselves into the ride, dodging banana peels, throwing shells, and laughing way too hard when one of you got hit. by the time you two stumbled off, breathless and giddy, you and him were still arguing about who had won.

“i definitely won,” you declared.

“you literally lost at the finish line,” riki shot back. “just accept that i’m superior.”

“please yeah right—” you groaned and shoved his shoulder.

it was supposed to be playful, but riki, being the clumsy guy that he was, lost his balance. instinctively, he grabbed onto your wrist, but that just made you stumble too and suddenly—you two crashed into each other.

your faces were way too close.

neither of you moved. you could feel rikis breath against your lips and you were very aware of the fact that your hands were gripping his hoodie while his fingers were curled around your wrist.

everything around you—the neon lights, the distant game music, the sound of other people laughing—blurred into the background. the only thing that existed in that moment was him.

and then riki, looking dazed and definitely not thinking straight, mumbled, “if i kissed you right now, would that be really stupid or only kind of stupid?”

your brain short circuited. “wh—” you opened your mouth, but no words came out. “did you just—”

riki blinked, his own words catching up to him. his face immediately turned bright red. “i—i didn’t mean to say that out loud,” he stammered.

you stared at him, your heart pounding. the worst part? you didn’t hate the idea. in fact, it was like something clicked in your brain—all the teasing, all the lingering touches, all the everything suddenly made sense.

“oh my gosh,” you whispered. “what?” riki asked nervously.

“i’m in love with you.” the words slipped out before you could stop them and as soon as you said them, your eyes went wide. “oh no.”

“oh no?” riki repeated, staring at you. “why oh no?”

“because..” you groaned, covering your face. “because now i can’t pretend i don’t have feelings for you and now our friendship is going to be so weird, and i—”

“y/n.”

you peeked through your fingers. riki was staring at you, wide eyed, looking like you had just revealed the greatest secret in the universe and then…he grinned.

“you love me,” he repeated, and he sounded way too smug about it. you scowled, “shut up.”

“no, this is amazing,” riki said, his grin widening. “because guess what?”

“what.”

“i’m also in love with you.”

you blinked. “wait…what?”

“you heard me,” riki said, rocking back on his heels. “i love you. i have probably always loved you and if we weren’t in the middle of mario land, i would definitely be kissing you right now.” you gaped at him, “we’re in mario land, riki.”

“i know,” he smirked. “which is why i’m gonna kiss you right here and make it the most iconic confession in history.”

you barely had time to react before riki leaned in, his hand cupping your cheek as he kissed you—warm, soft, and so so long overdue. eventually you melted into him, your hands fisting his hoodie.

when you pulled apart, your face was on fire. “that was—”

“amazing?” riki grinned. “i was gonna say stupid, but sure.” riki laughed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “you totally lost mario kart, by the way.” you groaned, “you’re lucky i love you.”

“yeah you do” he smiled. you rolled your eyes playfully with a smile as you lean into his arms, head sort of resting on his shoulder/chest, his hand that was around your shoulder intertwined with your right hand.

and just like that, two oblivious idiots in love finally got their happy ending…at mario land, of all places.

⋆｡°✩ @miukidoll @liwinly @sugarikiz

[kyeomofhearts]

Bed Wars | J.WW

+ summary: after spending countless hours building a house for your boyfriend... you're suddenly met with his bed placed right next to yours? what the hell man! + pairing: wonwoo x fem!reader + word count: 800~ + content: fluff, established relationship, they're just playing minecraft lol, reader likes to bicker.

[ᝰ.ᐟ] happy valentine's day!!! thought i would post something small to celebrate since i didn't post for last year's valentine's day. also i would like to (unfortunately) thank @cherry-zip for bullying me into posting this on time! hope you enjoy, thanks for reading! <3 (borders made by @enchanthings !)

"C’mon dude,” you groaned, staring at the sight in front of you. “I made you a house for a reason!”

Wonwoo’s response? Moving his bed right next to yours. 

“Well, I want to sleep here,” he stated simply.

You let out an annoyed sigh, arms crossed. “Like, seriously? The colors don’t even match!”

Wonwoo only giggled, enjoying your frustration with him. “What are you talking about? My purple bed goes perfectly with your pink one. Also, what if a creeper spawns in my house—how will you ever hear my cries for help?”

Your eye twitched at his insistence. God, he was so annoying. “Now, why would a creeper spawn in your house?” 

“You never know, I’ve seen it happen before.” 

“Fine. I’ll move out then,” you said, quickly destroying your bed and leaving the house. You weren’t even bothered enough to take anything from your chests.

The two of you continued playing in silence for a few minutes. It’s not like you were actually mad or anything… but it was fun to start a meaningless fight with Wonwoo. 

In the meantime, you explored the surrounding biomes in hopes of finding a suitable place to make a new house. Well, more like a camp. (Your house was way too pretty for you to simply abandon.)

After a few more minutes of silence, Wonwoo began to message you in the game.

[gam3bo1: where are you :(]

[gam3bo1: i miss youuuuu]

[gam3bo1: answer me!]

“Are you mad at me?” He asked, turning to look at you from his monitor, eyes filled with faux innocence.

You scoffed. “Oh, no. Not at all. I just love how you’re completely ignoring the fact that I built a whole house for you, and yet, you insist on staying in my house!”

Wonwoo let out a dramatic sigh. “Well, it's not my fault my house feels so… lonely.” 

You rolled your eyes as he spoke, but he didn’t stop there. Who would’ve known that he was going to be this pouty.

“Look, our babies miss you too.” He waved you down to look over at his screen.

To your disappointment, curiosity got the better of you. “This better be–” Your voice cut off at the sight of your pets. 

All of your in-game pets–the dogs, cats, and even the random parrot you found in a jungle biome a few weeks back–were all sitting obediently inside your home. Wonwoo had conveniently placed them all in front of his bed, having them turned to look at the empty space–where your bed used to be. 

You narrowed your eyes upon realizing the little stunt he was trying to pull on you. “You’re trying to manipulate me into going back home!”

Wonwoo gasped. “I would never do such a thing!”

After a few moments of pure laughter, you finally gave in. You could never stay mad at him for too long. 

“...Fine, I’ll come back.” You huffed out, finally turning back to your monitor and making your way back home.

As you neared your house, something new caught your eye.

Behind your house, was a small, heart-shaped garden. The ground was tiled in a red-and-pink checkered pattern, carefully placed block by block. Peonies and roses filled the garden’s corners, their colors nicely decorating the huge heart in the middle. In front of the heart sat a small seating area just for the two of you.

“Oh.”

“I made it while you were ignoring me,” Wonwoo said, his voice suddenly next to your ear.

Your fingers hovered over your keyboard. It was… annoyingly cute.

You continued to move around, stepping onto the checkered flooring and admiring the little details he had placed all around. It was cute.

“...You built me a garden?” you asked softly.

Wonwoo hummed. “I might have had help from a few tutorials, but yeah. I wanted to make a spot for us.” 

And unsurprisingly, your stomach did an embarrassing flip.

Wonwoo went back over to his desk, quickly moving his player to sit on one of the chairs in the garden. Following him, you sat down in the chair in front of him, and before you could even say anything he beat you to it.

“I just thought our shared house could use a little extra love. You know, since we obviously live together.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands as Wonwoo laughed triumphantly beside you. He just had to ruin the moment! 

“Now c’mon, let’s go to bed,” he said as he pressed ‘Save and Exit’. By the time you reached the main menu, Wonwoo was already pulling you away from your desk.

“I’m never building you anything ever again,” you muttered, body betraying you as you leaned into him on your shared bed.

“Yeah, yeah,” he murmured into your hair, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “And yet you still let me sleep next to you.” 

You wanted to argue, but sleep was already pulling you away. “Mhm, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

[allurilove]

Yandere Boyfriend x you

Rated 18 + -- mature long (?) content!

Includes: Headcanons of possessive, obsessive, and perverted behavior, stalking, rough sex, pretty gender neutral, jealousy, hair pulling, handjobs, going on vacation with you.

*Thanks for all the love on the first post, and here’s a continuation! Here is the third part! It’s a much longer version, and he’s now referred to as “your boyfriend!” This is gonna be a long one, and then I'll take a bit of a break to write yandere priest! This is purely fictional writing!*

Synopsis: Your wish became true, and now you have a boyfriend. He loves you immensely, and now that you two live together, he feels like his life is complete.

He never believed to see a more beautiful and attractive person than you. You have his heart and soul in your possession, all ready and willing for you to devour.

Take him, claim him, and he’ll be at your feet worshipping you forever.

He was stoked to be able to have access to your bedroom 24/7. It was like he struck gold as you shown him your newly decorated room. It felt surreal to be your roommate, and the fact that you two would be living under the same roof made it hard for him to control his urges. He knows he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help himself. You were off to class, and his hand was on the doorknob. He slowly pulled the door back, and all of your clothes were revealed to him. He reached out and gently touched the fabric of your clothes, his hands feeling the smooth silk, or the fuzzy cotton shirt. He leaned in to sniff the closet, and your natural scent fills his nose. He sighed and he stepped in, he closed his eyes as your clothes enveloped him like a hug.

Your classmate slowly pulled down his pants, his face digging into your sweater as he kept inhaling the soft aroma from your fragrance. He had to keep himself busy somehow. He started to shuffle around the apartment, his pants pulled down to his feet and he looked like a penguin as he walked to the bathroom. He grabbed your towel you frequently used, and he sniffed that too. Your classmate began to rub himself, his fingers touching the outline of his manhood. It stood strong and proud, it was a bit heavy and sort of curved to the left. He used his free hand to start jerking himself off.

It was almost like a routine for him. He would wake up at the same time as you, watch you leave the house and wave goodbye, and then go back to your room to sleep. He soon began to grind onto your pillow. Or he would wrap himself in a little burrito with your covers.

You two had your great moments as "classmates", and had your little movie nights when you were done with class. You had a huge bucket of popcorn on your lap, and it was mixed with your favorite candy, with sweet and savory kernels as well. He would always grab for some when you did- just to brush his hand against yours.

While living with your classmate…he soon became your boyfriend. It sort of happened when you two got drunk and ended up making out in his bed. His lips were soft, his tongue swirled with yours, and he could taste the peach liquor.

Living with him was great: he frequently cleaned, always did the laundry, and he would steal a couple of your intimates. You almost caught him, and you could see the little fabric poking out of his pocket, but he had distracted you by pulling you to the bedroom.

You were getting a bit suspicious that he was at the apartment all the time, but he promised he just had online classes. He then started to be a Photoshop pro. He would create fake grades, and fake assignments he had to do, and he realized that it would be odd if he was available all the time. So, he actually had to sneak into campus and pretend he was a student there. His heart ached as he had to send "I'm actually busy and can't make it" text to you. Knowing damn well that he had nothing going on.

You two went on dates. He always took you out somewhere new, he never once wanted you to feel bored with him. He bought tickets to this stand up comedian you liked, and you both sat down onto your seats. It went well, literally too well. He grits his teeth as he hears another laugh from you. I mean c'mon, the comedian wasn’t that funny.

Now that he thinks about it… he doesn’t remember a time when he made you laugh like that. Even when he made notes of all the things you found hilarious. His eyes widened at the realization, and he started to doubt himself. Maybe he wasn’t even funny, no matter how hard he tried-- oh god!

You nudged him to see his reaction, his eyes were shining with love as he looked over to you, but he covered the lower half of his face. And he silently mouthed “Count your days” to the comedian.

He gripped onto his thighs, his eyes narrowing at the ground as he silently fumed. He didn’t want to seem overbearing, and you were having a good time, so he kept his thoughts to himself. You made fun of him that night. While you guys were walking back home, he frowned as you mocked his tense expression.

“Oh stop it.” He grumbled and he looked away. He looked so cute when he pouted, and he crossed his arms.

Though deep down, he liked that he made you smile. Even if you were laughing at him, it was still a win in his books. He sighed and decided to reel you in by wrapping his arm around your shoulder, and he brought you close.

You also got a lot of noise complaints. It was embarrassing to even bump into your neighbors when you left your apartment. They sent you nasty glares, eye rolls, and out right told you to keep it down. They thought you were a porn fein.

Your back arched as your boyfriend thrusted into you, and you held him tightly against you. Being with him was always passionate, he was ravenous and acted as if he had been starved of your warmth. He let out a loud groan. He also had the tendency to curse, the bed shook as he picked up the pace- the headboard repeatedly slammed into the wall. You also had to buy a new bed frame after he broke the other one.

He leaned down and he nibbled and nipped at your neck, he loved to leave hickeys and marks on you. His hands lifted your legs up and onto his shoulders, pressing your thighs to your chest. The bed creaks underneath your weight, and he reaches down to caress your flushed cheek.

When you saw him open his mouth to say something dirty, you quickly silenced it with your hand. He peered down curiously, his brow raised, and he tilted his head in confusion. You remind him to keep it down, and that the people next door will hear.

The next day: you hid yourself in a hoodie, running to the bus stop as you ignored your neighbors heckles.

After you were done with class, you two went to the gym to work out. You promised to help him build some muscles, and teach him how to run properly. He sometimes wished he didn’t have a dick. He listened to you explain some random machine, and he grabbed a towel to cover his crotch. You saw how he would nervously dart his eyes around, completely unable to look at you without drooling.

As a punishment, you got him to start running on the treadmill. He pants as you continued to speed up the machine, and sweat began to drip down his body.

"Are you trying to kill me?" Your boyfriend whined, and he had to keep pushing his body to the limits. "I thought you liked me..." He joked as he wiped the sweat off his neck.

When he missed you, he disguised himself when he would follow you around campus. He hid himself behind a bookshelf after he stalked you to the library. He lowered his shades to see what you were reading.

“Excuse me?” Another student tapped on his shoulder.

“Piss off.” Your boyfriend said curtly, and he slapped their hand off him. “Can’t you see that I’m busy?”

The student looked at him and then followed his line of sight. They were going to ask him to move so they could grab their book, but when they saw his flushed cheeks, dilated pupils, and his odd heavy breathing… they realized he was stalking you and was probably a creep. The student gulped, slowly backing away as they flagged down security.

You had to save your boyfriend from the arms of a buff man. It was almost funny to see your boyfriend get manhandled by security, his feet dangling off the ground, and he continued to say that the guard was embarrassing him.

Your boyfriend still kept in touch with your siblings, he actually grew to liking them, and when winter break came around, he followed you back home. He stepped inside the familiar house, and he greeted your parents first. He handed presents around to your family, and he quickly put on a white beard and red hat for the kids.

He genuinely started tweaking when he was introduced to your life long childhood friend, and ex. He forced a smile and his grip was tight as he shook your ex lovers hand. Your boyfriend continues to give your ex a sideways glare whenever they were near him, or when they would touch you, he would accidentally push them into the christmas tree.

He holds your hand during dinner, and conveniently turns away when your ex asked him pass the rolls. When you reach over to grab the basket for yourself, your boyfriend handed them to you immediately. His expression souring as you gave one to your ex too.

“I think they meant to give it to me.” Your boyfriend grunts, and he picks the bread off your exes plate and shoves it into his mouth.

You kicked him out of bed that night. He had to sleep on the tiny ottoman, it was either that or sleeping on the floor. But he refused to lay down where he couldn’t see you. He sulked, and his body curled up into a fetal position as he saw you sleeping comfortably on the bed.

Your boyfriend slowly unraveled his body and he prowled towards you. His face rubbed up against your thighs, and he murmured “I’m sorry” into your skin. His lips trailing up to your inner thigh. When you pull away, he rolled his eyes, and he flipped you over onto your stomach.

“Do you like your ex more than me? Is that it?” His voice is calm but you can hear the underlying irritation in it. “Do you get all hot and bothered when you think about them?”

“Do you think about them when you’re with me?” He yanked on your hair, and you wince as you feel a burn at your scalp.

He rubbed his sore cheek after you hit him, and you made him sit in the corner to reflect on his behavior. He sighs and he leans his head back onto the wall, his eyes glancing at your sleeping form. You did tell him he couldn't sleep on the bed, but was he going to listen...? He got up from his spot, and he tiptoed towards you, and he laid down next to you. He was successful until your eyes shot open and glared at him, he quickly slinks away in fear.

Your family decided to take you guys to the slopes. You were still mad at your boyfriend, but you helped him put on his clothes. You roughly zipped up his jacket, wrapped the scarf around his neck, and shoved him into the van. He did not like sitting next to your ex. The car ride was tense for him, and your boyfriend was nice to your parents and thanked them for bringing him along. He rolled his eyes as he heard your ex do the same-- damn copycat.

He awkwardly sat there, you were on his left, and your ex on his right. Your boyfriend stared out the window, occasionally making conversation with you, and when you guys came to the gas station to fill up the car- he couldn't wait to jump out.

Your boyfriend stared at the road as your parents pumped the gas into the vehicle, he stretched his limbs and he couldn't help but wonder how long it would take him to walk back home.... surely it wouldn't be that far. He didn't want to leave you with your psychotic ex. I mean, he didn't know for sure they were a nut case, but he liked to believe they were. However, he also didnt want to be here so... he pulled out his phone and he looked it up, damn. 15 hours?

"Thinking about running away?"

Your boyfriends body stiffened as he heard your ex's voice. He sighed heavily, and he turned around to see the person in front of him. He looked at them up and down... realizing they were wearing the same colors. They looked like they were matching. Fuck.

"You would like that wouldn't you?" Your boyfriend shoved past them and he walked inside the store to find you.

You were standing at the chips aisle, a couple of things already in your hands. Your boyfriend grabbed a beef jerky and made his way to you, his body behind yours, and he pressed himself against you. He kissed your cheek, and his hands rubbed your sides.

"Are you still mad at me?" He moped.

"Are you being nice to my friend?" You said back.

He stayed silent for a bit, contemplating what to say. I mean he could lie, but he decides not to. "I think you're asking a bit too much from me."

The rest of the car ride was silent. When you guys made it to the mountain he was shaking the entire time. He was cold, did not know how to ski, and he was stuck on the easiest slopes with the kids and beginner skiers. He flailed down the hill, he tumbled and rolled, and he crashed into a tree.

You helped him get back to the cabin after he got a concussion.

His body wasn't hurting too badly, and he whined and sniffled- really trying to make it seem he was sick. He loved the attention you were giving him, the light touch of your lips on his forehead, and when he convinced you to touch him down there, he was really happy. His back arches as you continued to move your hand underneath his pants, your thumb brushing against his tip.

"Ah~" Your boyfriend moaned. "Keep going..." his hips jerked up to meet your movements, his cock starting to twitch in your hand. His arousal formed in his stomach, before his cum finally leaked out of his member.

You shimmied his pants a bit lower and you licked his manhood, your tongue tasting the slightly salty and white fluid dripping down his length. The rest of the trip went smoothly. He would often pull you to the side to kiss you, he cooked alongside you, learned how to ski with you, learned how to knit a beanie, and of course his favorite... being intimate with you.

Your ex's room was right next door, and your boyfriend made sure to make you scream out his name every night, and vice versa. He loved to make a show of how much you two loved each other, and his hands were on your hips to help you ride him.

"So goood..." He babbled, his brows furrowed in pleasure, and he latched his lips onto your neck. "Keep ridin' me, I wanna see you lose it on my cock."

Your boyfriend was entranced with how you took him in easily, his dick disappearing into you, and felt you tighten around him. A deep growl vibrating from his throat. He plays with your nipples, pinching and he sucked on them. He twirls his tongue around your hardened nipple. When you came, he lapped up your nectar, and he kissed you.

It was soon becoming the end of your college years, and he started to panic. Especially when he heard you talking about how you're gonna walk on stage, or what you were going to wear. He panicked because he's a damn liar. He wouldn't be able to sneak his way into graduation, and it was time to come clean. He hoped you wouldn't leave him, or think he's crazy for following you across the world to be with you.

Allure: Hopefully this keeps y'all fed until I come back! Here’s the c.ai link: https://share.character.ai/Wv9R/ondwnvhr

[nonasuch]

Miss Universe National Costume 2024, Part 2!

Splitting this off into a new post so I'm not clogging up everyone's dash quite as much.

Miss Malta is some sort of environmental protection Sailor Scout. I think the giant bow would look better on the back of the skirt but otherwise this is solid.

It has just come to my attention that I skipped over Miss Albania and several other A/B countries, back at the beginning. I sincerely apologize! She went to all this trouble putting together a Fifth Element cruise ship passenger costume, and I nearly missed it.

Miss Armenia, in what even I have to admit would be a legit Princess Leia fit.

Miss Bahrain, adding some green to her Gold And Vaguely Historical look, along with what is either a comically large prop chalice or an upside-down lamp.

Miss Bangladesh appears to believe that adding two plush tigers from the toy store around the corner from the pageant venue will conceal the fact that she is just wearing a tiger-print evening dress. Miss Bangladesh is incorrect.

Miss Belgium. Girl. No.

Miss Belize let the seventh-grade art class do her whole costume, which was a bold choice.

Okay, I think that's everyone I missed! Back to alphabetical order. And I should have to rely less on shitty screenshots, now. Some countries were benefiting from the low resolution, tbh.

Kind of feel like Miss Maldives had a luggage mishap and she's just wearing the outfit she packed for a slightly dressy dinner.

Miss Martinique's costume would honestly have looked better in the shitty screencap version. The construction is... bad. It's bad.

Feel like we're in a little bit of slump here. Miss Mauritius did not stick enough butterfly appliqués to her gown to conceal that it is, in fact, just a regular evening gown.

Slump officially over! We are so back. Everyone say thank you, Miss Mexico.

I would like this better if it had just committed to the giant skirt and not felt the need to make it a Sexy Miniskirt look. Sorry, Miss Moldova.

Miss Mongolia wanted to stand out from all the other gold armor on stage, so she decided to a) wear cooler armor and b) bring a bow and arrow instead of a sword. Great work, Miss Mongolia.

Starting to feel like I'm picking on the smaller countries that probably don't have a huge pageant culture or the budget for really elaborate costumes, but on the other hand Miss Montenegro's costume is super low-effort AND the fabrics look cheap, so what am I supposed to do?

Okay, this looks like a pretty standard Miss Universe Sexy Bird, yes? Well, THIS is how Miss Myanmar entered the stage:

She had to fight her way out of that thing! God only knows what the visibility was like in there.

I think the hat is doing most of the heavy lifting to keep Miss Namibia's costume from being Just An Evening Dress, sadly.

Oh, yikes. It's more obvious in motion but Miss Nepal's bodice looks like it's made of craft foam and it fits real weird. The rest of it looks a little like she got together with Miss Cyprus and a pile of tablecloths for a sewing bee last night, I'm sorry to say.

Miss Netherlands has chosen a Tribute to Delft. I think if I were in charge of this costume I would do a much fuller skirt that falls from the waist, instead of the weird trumpet-skirt-with-hoop we've got here. And, obviously, I would make the windmill on the bodice actually spin.

It looks like she's having some issues keeping the wings and peplum in place, but I really like Miss New Zealand's costume from a design perspective. It at least slightly resembles the bird it's supposed to be (New Zealand fantail) and I think the feather pattern is meant to be in a Maori art style.

Miss Nicaragua is a Sexy Cathedral, which I think might be a Miss Universe first and is definitely a big old step closer to drag.

Okay, pausing here to get the next batch ready.