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buttercupblu · 9 months ago

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God is Fair|The Lost

Devotional Love with Suguru x Reader|Three-Shot

Part 1|Part 2|Part 3

the deets: sweet reminiscences of a wandering youth in a winter before a spring. you and suguru are older now and on wildly different but similar paths, you just don't know it yet. w.c: 11.4k out of still dk yet pls send help tags: fem!reader, alcohol consumption (don't drink and drive, this is a FIC for a reason plsss and ty), slight coercion, party dr*g use, territorial tendencies, a lil bit of sadism, hair pulling, lip locking, a bit o' biting, fingering, orgasm denial, a hint of emotional manipulation/gaslighting if you have brain angel’s note: don't ask me why these keep getting longer, okay? exposition loves to grab me by the throat and throttle me, idk what to say— earworm 🐛: Nangs|Tame Impala

This fucking sucks.

Napkins. Straw. Sauce...ranch? No. Barbeque. Tea. Fuck, gotta make more tea.

You were exhausted. A bit sweaty. Reeking of fryer grease and beef.

"Welcome to Shake Shack!"

And employed.

You took what felt like your 1000th order of the day, trapped in a vicious cycle of dropping baskets of fries into the fryer, then rushing back to the register to enter what you'd memorized. Often barely avoiding a crash with your co-worker who manned the grill as you cut the tight corner just as the next customers pulled up to the window.

In a town surprisingly smaller than yours, there was a high price to pay for being short-staffed.

For you, that meant having the all-too-often privilege of being the drive-through cashier and fry station manager while working with just two other team members who were also drowning on this sinking ship.

Slipping the last fry in, you finished bagging the hefty order and took and breath.

Work and college were wringing you by the neck, but things could be worse, and you handed the customer their order with a smile.

"Have a great day!"

"My tea?"

Shit—forgot it just that fast.

After waiting all of 30 seconds (give or take) for you to brew and sweeten it to perfection, the customer sped off with it with a grumble. You sighed, leaning your back against the drive-thru window. Your front register co-worker slowly peeked around the corner, having heard the skidding tires. You only shook your head and shrugged. Patience is a virtue.

The air felt so lovely, you thought during break, rubbing your arms and plopping onto a bench outside. It was always so chilly in the restaurant because...shakes, but they should allow you wear a jacket at least.

You pulled up a chair for your feet and slumped back with an exhale. Not a second into your break and you brain was still racking with thoughts.

Not of work, but of next week's exam. And your labs, and your lazy ass lab partner, and your 10-page paper and just...school in general.

You weren't failing, far from it, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to walk the fine line between getting B's and getting by. The major you chose made sure of that—healthcare was no joke.

But neither were you.

Never once a quitter, you'd rather torture yourself with the woes of medicine than admit defeat. Proving yourself day after day as you pushed through the BS, big and small.

Like your chem teacher—you got a headache anytime you thought about him. Accent thicker than molasses that you can't quite place, the guy wore a permanent resting bitch face and never seemed to want to be there.

With so much attitude pent up inside such a small man who was hell-bent on unleashing it, it was a good day if he didn't go off on someone over something as simple as not understanding the words coming out of his mouth.

It had to be his favorite excuse to never explain anything during class when eventually everyone would give up and blankly stare him in the face.

You were sure he got off on being a shit teacher with a crutch called tenure. Ending every semester with a smile as he passed around teacher reviews, knowing your responses were worthless—just like your social life.

Freshman and sophomore year had been the best for late night and regrets in the morning, but junior year? Whopped your ass.

Time for games or friends was over. Textbooks and Shake Shack were your best friends.

You took off your visor that always hugged a little too tight around your voluminous hair, immediately feeling relief before looking at the logo that mocked you.

The money your dad set aside, plus what he'd been saving since you were a baby, was enough to cover most of your expenses, but not all.You had to buy a car, textbooks, and other unexpected but totally avoidable costs that couldn't be covered for...reasons.

But it was fine.

Everything was fine.

School was...doable, and work was preparing you for independence and trust, Miss Independent was in her bag. It wasn't all bad, you thought, fiddling with the neon star on your lanyard. The cool metal nestled between your fingers was a constant reminder of when things were a little easier—you smirked—and the most unforgettable night of sophomore year.

Parties weren't foreign to you during undergrad—scratch that—you weren't foreign to parties who knew your name by heart. But most of them leading up to that night were always mildly disappointing.

Hollywood had painted a very vivid picture of college life, but for you and your roomie, the beginning of undergrad had been painfully black and white.

It wasn't that neither of you, especially Yuki, didn't try. Sometimes, you'd even end up somewhere sketch, following behind Yuki who was always chasing a thrill.

No, it was because there were really only two options for a quote-on-quote "good night": a sweaty, over-packed, testosterone-filled Frat sausage party with shit music and even shittier guys or an on-campus, alcohol-free, school-organized event with crowds of less than 20 that always ended before midnight.

Anywhere else actually worth a damn was 21 and up and off-limits to underaged 19-year-olds like the two of you. To you, they weren't even worth bringing up, but Yuki liked a challenge. A third option was always on the table. And one night, she swore she knew how to get your entire group on the scene and into a rave. All it took was a little finesse and a little dress. And bearing the cold of the December weather in tight skirts and fishnet shirts.

"Yuki, I swear to God," your words vibrated with each shiver, "If we don't get in—"

"You worry too much." She looked over the long line of heads in front of your group.

All week, she'd been going on and on about how "This weekend was going to kiss ass!", with the most boastful look on her face. She was only one year ahead of you but swore the connects she made her freshman year would come in clutch and be there that night. But after everything that happened in high school, you were such a worry wart now.

Always wanting to be sure everything went according to plan and worked out as it should. Especially once you calmed down after losing your shit and running around like a complete lunatic freshman year of college. But by the end of that year, things felt...off. Now you wanted to take sophomore year easy. But Yuki wasn't having it.

Once goosebumps began to creep up your skin as you took wobbled steps towards the front of the line, it was do or die.

Music bumped into your ears, battling your beating heart as you passed the crowd of annoyed faces who'd been waiting for God knows how long to get in. Yuki took long, runway-model strides. Eating up the lethal looks you and your group were getting for being so bold until she stood face to face with security.

His gaze traveled across Yuki's snug black leather shorts and matching thigh-high boots as she rested her hand on her hips, making him smirk.

"Hey, we're on the list," she said cooly, chin high as she ran a hand through her long blonde tresses. "Under Rico."

His smirk disappeared. "Who?"

"*scoff* Rico. Big Rico." She said like it was obvious.

"I don't know that name."

Oh no. Eyes wide, you shifted, hovering just under Yuki's shadow as you clung to her arms for warmth.

You were freezing, nearly nude, feet screaming from only a short walk, and now at risk of being embarrassed in front of a line of irritated individuals who'd probably been praying on your downfall the second you all beelined to the front.

The threat of being turned away burned hot in your cheeks. But Yuki kept her cool. "We should be under Rico." She gave him her name and the rest of the group's, but security quickly scrolled through his tablet and shook his head.

"Oh wait," he stopped at the bottom, "Yeah, Rico. Right here."

Yes!

"He's already gone in, but uh, he didn't mention any extras."

Fuck!

You told Yuki that you guys would be late while she was taking her sweet time getting ready.

Then security gave your group a slow lookover, but not in a 'I'm falling for your slutty outfits and checking you out' kind of way Yuki was hoping for. "You guys got IDs?"

Your heart dropped to your ass. You gaped like a fish.

fuckfuckfuck. You knew you were screwed anything you saw even a smidge of panic on Yuki's usually fearless face.

The situation she swore she had a surefire way to avoid blew right through her and the rips on the sides of the t-shirt she purposely wore to seduce her way out of trouble.

Curse words filled your head, ready to fire them off at Yuki the moment you got back to her car.

She had to think fast.

"Yeah, we um—"

"They're with us."

Your heads snapped toward the voice in unison and you had to crane your neck around Yuki's towering stature to find it, but find it you did—belonging to a Mr. Tall, Blonde, and Handsome—standing right off the entrance to the rave with a drink in hand and eyes firmly locked on you.

"'Bout time you got here, Yuki. Friends." He nodded your way.

You? Us?

For a second, you knew he had to be mistaken but resisted the urge to look around for whoever he must have been talking to. But his gaze didn't waver.

You exhaled, blushing. Relieved but wondering why this appetizing stranger was coming to your rescue.

"You're with Rico?" security butted in.

"Yeah, yeah." And the stranger waved his wristband in air, a small neon star dangling from it for everyone to see. "Now, let these ladies in. They're freezing." And he winked at you.

Yuki wasted no time brushing past the still-skeptical bouncer, greeting your savior with open arms. "Sorry we're late, dude!" Playing up the act as if she'd done it a million times before, and the rest of your group quickly snagged their VIP wristbands before funneling into the booming venue.

It didn't click that you were getting in scot-free until the stranger looked back at you, waiting and holding the door open with a nod. "Coming?"

Your feet couldn't carry you fast enough, rushing forward as he took the last wristband, and secured it snugly around your wrist before flicking the neon star, looking down on you. "Perfect," he smirked. And for the sake of your steadily increasing heartbeat, you could only nod and avoid looking him in the eye.

Damn, what luck. And you slipped inside.

You had an idea of what crossing the threshold into the rave would be like, but your imagination fell unbelievably short.

Instant sensory overload—pulsing beats thumped through your chest, vibrating through the floor and into your bones. Vibrant strobe lights sliced through the dense fog of smoke machines, mixing with the heady air thick with the scent of sweat, perfume, and a faint aroma of smoke.

Every corner seemed alive, packed with swirling seas of bodies moving in sync with the relentless EDM rhythm and snatching so much of your attention that you almost forgot your manners.

"Thanks! Thank you!" you tried to shout, feeling yourself slowly defrost in the humid, rave air. "And Rico."

Stretching your arms out, you admired how the fluorescent purple lights made your shirt, neon nails, and cute new star accessory glow in the hazy darkness. They subtly reflected on the stranger's muscle tee you didn't realize was so close to you. Becoming aware of his gaze at the same time he caught yours.

His drifted over your fishnet shirt, white, tight, and highlighting your already glistening skin adorn with oils and powders—yours drew to his silver eyebrow piercing then to the colorful ink cascading from behind his ears, down his neck, and disappearing into his shirt.

He looked like an undergrad student but would've had to start on a piece like that years ago to finish something so intricate that also flowed onto his arms.

Would his chest be tattooed, too? Now you were staring at it.

Blushing, you looked away, realizing you were actually chest level with a man who practically towered over you.

"Who's Rico?"

Your brows furrowed at the same time a glimmer of light caught a sneaky piece of jewelry, snug on the corner of his bottom lip. Smugly smiling, he held out his hand, urging you to take it.

What the fu—

For the second time that night, you were speechless.

Confusion flickered across your face as you hesitated, studying his confident vibe and easy smile that invited you to continue to trust him.

That calm and collected aura that had finessed your way into a forbidden space when you were ready to throw in the towel and give Yuki the old "I told you so."

Something about him was tempting—maybe the air of mystery draping over him that made you both curious and cautious.

Amidst the chaotic surroundings and nerves settling down after winging your luck, his so-sure presence demanded your attention. But it also made you wonder what he was doing it all for.

Regardless, it wasn't the time to get all psychological. Yuki and the others were already far ahead, soon to be lost in the crowd if you didn't catch up.

He bit his lip, watching your reservations gradually melt away as you nervously took his hand and returned his smile—welcoming yourself aboard the first ride of the night.

He easily parted the sea of people as you followed behind, almost immediately finding your group thanks to your roommate. Always easy to find, she unironically stands out in a crowd—tall, loud, and bursting with energy like everyone else lived in her background.

After socking her in the arm hard enough to bring her down a little for leaving you behind, your unofficial guide for the night suggested you all hit the bar for a round of shots, his treat.

Yuki held her hand to her chest with a smile, immediately forgetting the dull pain in her arm. Leaning in close to you, she whispered, "Okay, Mr. Moneybags." And he soon returned with an amount of alcohol that could rival a Frat Party.

Picking a shot up from the tray, he toasted, "To a great night."

"A kick-ass night!" Yuki added, and you rolled your eyes but clinked shots.

The neon green liquid that looked like coolant and battery acid had a baby flooded your system, making you wince with each swallow. Fruity, sour, and stronger than anything you'd had before. It set your insides of fire, and you tried your best not to show it, but Mr. Calm, Cool, and Collected thought it was cute.

"I'm not a kid," you commented when he suggested you slow down on the shots you were clearly struggling with. Damn Yuki and her 'see a shot, take a shot' rule. She'd always start with two and made sure everyone kept up with each other. "You don't have to baby me."

But how couldn't he with a pout that cute sitting on your face flushed from the eccentric liquor?

"Why'd you help us anyway?" you asked, leaning on the table your group surrounded.

He mimicked your actions, sharp brown eyes glinting as he explained that he was simply a Good Samaritan who happened to be in the right place at the right time to help some girls in need. "Some really cute ones," he said into your ear.

Your cheeks warmed—and not just from the alcohol—as he drew back just close enough to barely graze your ear with his soft lips.

He was flirting.

And you were a terrible flirt—always residing in the back seat, never driving the car. Letting things happen to you instead of engaging. An approach that almost always ended in disappointment.

But there he was, this sinfully attractive man, openly vying for your attention—and shamelessly unafraid to say it. Clearly already into you, evident by his increasingly intimate actions, and assumed you were too because you were still in his face and hadn't run off just yet.

So you wouldn't need to do much more, right? Just do what you've seen in the movies.

Pretending to be unfazed, you brushed off his compliment with a smile, tucking a braid behind your ear. "So...knight in shining armor, you got a name?"

He chuckled and straightened his stance, suddenly making you feel even smaller than before.

"Naoya," he smirked.

You raised your next shot, bright and pink like your shiny lipgloss. "To Naoya," you toasted, quickly downing it with a sly smile that said you were far from innocent. But the OPs couldn't stand to see you be great, sending a dribble to free-dive down the corner of your mouth.

Cupping your chin before you could react, Naoya swiped his thumb across your skin and nonchalantly placed it in his mouth.

"Sweet."

And good fucking God, you didn't know if he was talking about the drink or you. Watching him subtly roll his thumb between his lips made you exhale regardless. Just like—

Thankfully, Yuki came to your rescue, pulling you into the lively crowd before you could probably do or say something stupid.

Unrestrained laughter echoed from your circle, dancing to the pulsating beats.

Yuki, always the life of the party, twirled and pulled everyone into her orbit—your group and strangers alike—while Naoya stuck close. Every few minutes or so he'd mingled with the group he came with, letting them put a dent in most of the shots he bought, but he had a different interest in mind. Stealing flirty peeks at you as you bounced to the techno beat, effortlessly drawing your attention back to him, even in a sea of lingering gazes.

Each time your eyes met, a thrill shot through you that was both exciting and slightly unnerving.

The magnetism between you was undeniable, but another part of you wondered if you were getting too much into your head. Whether it was simply lust making him devour you with his eyes or if it was really just you. There was always the chance he could be just like all the others. And a waste of your time.

But you could only ping-pong your thoughts for so long, and in the end, the thrill of what-ifs, alcohol, and a hint of rebuked behavior outweighed your apprehension until it wasn't enough to matter.

Silly, even.

His attention was simply more intoxicating than the alcohol coursing through your veins.

Just the thought of being the focus of someone so undeniably captivating was enough to entice you to stay within his sight, kick caution to the curb, and give him a show.

Hungry glances swarmed your way, but Naoya just stood back and took you in.

Flashes of your supple cheeks under your reflective skirt, your hair brushing the nape of your neck in those high, perfectly grippable pigtails. Fleeting thoughts of how they'd look in his hands.

A sway here, a caress of your body there, and it was easy to lock him in. Making him give less than a fuck about the "competition" or how they nearly broke their necks to get a glimpse of you.

Because as he watched your fingers lazily glide up your velvety thighs, over your chest, and up your tender neck without a second of broken eye contact between you, he knew this meal was just for him.

And so the night went. Playing the Yandere game. Occasionally being stolen by Yuki or one of the girls to build up a sweat and tease the crowd with bumps and grinds and lingering hands on each other's waists. Syncing with one another. All of you lost in the moment and savoring the night that was far from over.

Until you blinked and a few hours had passed, drenched clothes clung to every body, the once-exuberant crowd thinned out, and the blinking venue lights signaled that the night's event was drawing to a close.

Yuki's face couldn't have been more distraught as she smoothed her sweaty hair back to showcase her pouting face. "What the fuck, dude, it feels like we just got here??"

You opened your mouth, ready to scold her and remind her that, once again, this was entirely her fault for being slower than a DMV line while getting ready, but decided it wasn't worth your breath.

However, Yuki's infectious energy was raging at its peak with no signs of fading, and made sure everyone knew. But what could you do?

Choke your anxiety down and try your luck again with another club, or God forbid, crawl back to frat parties?

Staying in the dorms and bingeing Rom-Coms and junk food would be more entertaining.

Still, Yuki made her problem everyone else's—whining and groaning. Loudly protesting that the fun was just getting started and going on as if her soul was being crushed. Theater was robbed the day she majored in Sociology.

So dramatic. And it should've been easy to say you were fine with calling it a night and returning to your much warmer bed.

But that would've been a lie.

Just a teeny tiny itty bitty one. But big enough to matter.

And you internally rolled your eyes so hard you could almost see stars.

Because Naoya was the reason why.

God, you hated yourself.

The promise of something more was enough to blow hearts into your eyes as it snuck in and wrapped you in its clutches. Trapping you in one of the most intense instances of sexual chemistry you'd felt in a while—budding, simmering, and patiently waiting to spill over.

It was mildly irritating, your mind filling with thoughts of where things could go with this guy you barely knew. That little pinch of hope for a chance of something happening—even after playing hard to get all night.

You wondered if you'd ever see him again.

Ah well. That's nightlife for you.

It was fun while it lasted, but Yuki's voice brought you back to reality, growing increasingly more annoying as your hearing started to return to normal.

Seconds away from you throttling her and telling her to grip, Naoya made his presence known again, having overheard Yuki's pleas to extend the night.

"I know a spot."

Surprise failed you because, of course he did.

Mr. "I know, Rico." It was kinda weird Yuki hadn't asked about Rico the second you all stepped inside but with the crowd as thick as it was earlier, finding him would've been nearly impossible anyway.

But this was too perfect—the savior suddenly swooping in twice in one night with open arms and no hint of wanting more. Maybe it was a coincidence. Maybe your super quiet, nearly non-existent hopes and prayers for a main character moment had been answered.

But you weren't young enough to be that much of an idiot.

Still, was it a bit silly to be so sketch? Second-guessing this "Good Samaritan"? This casual guy tucking his thumbs in his pockets and holding a self-assured, but trusting smile whom you didn't know from a can of paint?

The back and forth was exhausting.

As if reading your thoughts, his head slightly tilted, signaling the words you wouldn't say.

Could you? Would you?

The unspoken questions hung in the air like Yuki clung to your shoulders, practically begging you to live a little.

Either the night ended there or could evolve into something new.

You just had to use your words.

But a sigh was enough to make Yuki squeal, answer in hand before you could speak.

"Let's gooo," and she beelined out of the rave just as they were shutting down the bar and switching on the lights.

Goosebumps made an abrupt comeback. The transition from humid rave heat to brisk winter air instantly sobered your group, seeping into your pores and drying your sweat.

After making sure Yuki was good to drive, you practically ran to her car. Coincidently sitting just a row over from Naoya's.

Yuki gawked at the sleek, red sports car. "Well, color me impressed." Its blinding headlights flickered as Naoya unlocked it.

You hadn't known someone with a car that nice since the Geto's.

"Follow me to the next spot?" he laughed, leaning on the car's roof.

If there weren't so many of you, he'd tell all of you to hop in and make yourselves comfortable, but he also knew your guards would be up—as they should.

His head tipped at Yuki, but he kept his eyes on you. "Keep her safe, ya?" And ducked into the car.

Your face didn't feel so cold after that.

"Girl."

You squinted in disbelief.

"Is this a junkyard?"

In the middle of old car parts and rusting scraps of metal, a steel warehouse glimmered in the moonlight, confirming that it was. Strobe lights shot out, lighting the bubble of space in the darkness as it came into view.

And just when you thought there had to be some mistake, some wrong turn taken at some point down the long, dark gravel road through the trees, Naoya's car cruised through the chain-link fence, finally stopping in the dirt path after the 30-minute drive outside the city limits.

This was unreal.

Alt Rock—Phoenix?—vibrated through Yuki's car, barely contained by the warehouse walls as it blasted into the open air.

"What the..." You lost your words for the third damn time that night.

The hell is this? Who is this guy???

Asking questions had been the least of Yuki's concerns earlier. Or during the lengthy drive there as you repeatedly asked her if she knew where you guys were. She was just happy to have her prayers to keep the night going and finish burning energy answered—damn how—and repeatedly said you guys would be fine.

But a warehouse?? A damn warehouse???

An after-hours club, house party, hell, even a dive bar came to mind when Naoya said he knew a spot.

What a spot to know and you noticed the numerous cars scattered throughout the dirt yard as you looked around.

Black leather skirts and oversized jackets littered the crowd. Ripped stockings and Demonia's hugged nearly every leg.

This was a scene you weren't familiar with, not that you discriminated, but other than Yuki, the rest of you would be glaringly sticking out like a sore thumb. Neon colors clearly weren't the move here, and you all looked like walking glow sticks in a sea of scene kids and black lipstick—sure to be noticed the second you stepped out of the car.

You knew you should've trusted your gut.

"At least the music's good," Yuki said as if reading your thoughts. Her head bobbed to the seductive beat. “🎶He’s just tryna be cooool.🎶”

You could strangle her.

"C'mon, lighten up," she said, unfazed by your distressed face. "Think of it as an adventure." She turned to the back seat. "Right girls?"

Shoko had stopped caring long ago, and Utahime, still buzzing from the rave, was down for whatever.

Freshman year you probably would've shaken you by your shoulders and called you a pussy by now.

But why were you acting brand new? You knew what this was. Been knew from the moment you agreed to go out with Yuki this weekend that something as crazy as this happening had always been on the table.

She was always so daring, so spontaneous and unpredictable. Always relaxed and in control no matter the situation—all of what drew you into her in the first place. The perfect roommate.

She reminded you of what you used to be—what you were trying to get back to. Even if it meant repeatedly pressing all of your buttons.

You pinched your brows together, secretly regretting the day you born.

"Fine."

"Fuck yeah!" And not a second later, her car whipped into a makeshift parking spot so fast you almost got whiplash.

Just ahead, Naoya hopped out of his car, cooly walking up. "Ha, you made it," he joked, but your resting bitch said nothing was funny.

"Okay, okay, look, I know what this looks like," he began, apologizing for not giving you guys a heads-up. But trust me."

A breeze danced across his face, tousling his bangs and showing off the subtle glint in his pretty brown eyes. And as if on cue, his lips curled into the signature smile you knew was coming, once again offering his hand.

"Will you?"

...Godfkindammit.

What the hell is happening here?

Those butterflies just would not give you a break. And neither would Yuki if you turned him down, especially after coming this far already.

You cursed under your breath and took his hand, hoping the flutters would go away, but only passed them on to him.

His lip ring flashed as he smiled, his fingers lacing with yours.

"Super sweet."

And welcomed you into his territory.

Throughout your life, you've learned that looks can be deceiving. And if you had forgotten, example A stood front and center in that moment.

On first glance, it may have looked like a glaring OSHA violation, but what the warehouse lacked on the outside, it made up for with a jaw-dropping inside.

Head falling back, you marveled at the intricate web of large steel beams weaving throughout the vaulted ceiling. Dancing light bounced off the metal, one-up the rave and casting colorful shadows on the floor, walls, and everyone inside.

Drum-heavy bass and gritty guitar riffs ripped through the speakers, welcoming you. Pulling you into an underground world that was very welcoming to Naoya too.

A hot commodity, nearly every face you saw couldn't help but smile and greet him on the walk-in. Unable to resist his charm. Pandering for even a hint of attention even though his hand remained fixed on you, pulling you through the crowd and bringing a blush to your face. It was clear you were his guest.

Oak and orange blossom clashed with the sharp tang of industrial machinery, heavily perfuming the air thanks to the dense, edgy crowd, but at least it wasn't as packed as the rave. Quite the opposite actually—the space here was wide open, yet surprisingly insulated against the cold. It'd be hard to get lost, but you still told Yuki not to run off because you knew what was coming next.

"Shot o'clock!"

Surprising.

And this time, they were on her.

"A toast, to Naoya." The glass glistened in the lights as she held it high. "And this totally cool spot."

She linked arms with Shoko and Utahime and they tossed their shots back together. Leaving you out—no doubt on purpose.

Naturally, Naoya looked to you, completely oblivious to the ritual but willing to play along if you were.

You steeled your nerves, deciding to get the girls back for that later, and snaked your arm around his muscled one. Snug. Close. No big deal. People totally don't do super intimate things like this at weddings or anything.

Looking him in the eye, you grinned. "To you again." And downed the shot in sync, feeling the cool liquid slide down your throat. Spreading a fuzzy feeling through your body all over again and helping you settle into the reality of the night.

This environment was different.

There was an air of exclusivity in the space—his vibe—this place meant for the in-crowd—something to be a part of that he had access to and personally invited you into.

Like remnants of high school. Drawing you in like a magnet.

And this time, you stuck close to Naoya. Baiting his attention again.

His lingering gaze drew curious glances from your friends that you were quick to brush off, but even you couldn't ignore the nuzzle heat from the way his eyes bore into your swaying frame.

As if you weren't already fully aware, your favorite two-toned brunette, Utahime, kept raising eyebrows at you and tipping her head his way real "smooth-like". Totally not right in front of him where it was super noticeable and embarrassingly obvious.

When she got fed up with your shy act, she lovingly wrapped her arms around your neck, making you both sync to the beat. With a slightly tipsy smile on her face, she said just loud enough for you to hear, "Go get that dick." And quickly twirled you around until you posted right in front of Naoya.

A ditzy look plastered on your face as you froze. Slowly meeting his eyes with a flushed look of embarrassment that pulled a smile out of him. You looked so cute trying to hold yourself together and seem unbothered. But if it weren't for the alcohol swimming through your system, you might've bailed.

Yet, liquid courage ran through you, hell-bent on making you step into your bad bitch shoes because confidence lived in your blood.

If there was any chance of finding out if this was real or not, it was now never.

Eyes locked—his having never stopped eyefucking you—you both smirked. With a tip of your hand and slightly wobbly knees, you invited the man who made you ache between your thighs to dance.

With a small laugh, he gently bit his lip, finding you cute enough to plant a kiss on your wrist then pull you close. "About time," he said, fingers digging into your waist.

What a pretty face you made when you were surprised. But you surprised him right back when you twirled around, your ass grazing his front as you closed the gap between you.

If he was going to beg for your attention, he had to prove he could handle it, and gradually, you relaxed enough to dance—curves winding in beat with the flowy rhythm—enticing him to take the bait and dance his hands along your waist. Syncing rhythm, closeness, and heat to slowly rebuild a sweat.

Your head, light as a feather, fell back against his chest, exposing your shimmery neck. Sugary sweet scents you doused yourself in earlier drew him into your sweet spot, stifling your breath as his grazed your skin, erasing your final remnants of hesitation.

The instinct to draw your hands to his hair reminded you that the freedom to let go was a drug. A heady, intoxicating sensation that mingled with the pleasure of his hands slipping along your thighs and climbing up your sides like ecstasy until you opened your hazy eyes and stared it in the face. Pale blue, tiny, and snug between his peace fingers.

Gasping, you swiftly faced a grinning Naoya.

"What is—"

"X", he replied so casually, as if he hadn't just practically shoved a drug in your face without warning.

What the hell was with this guy???

The anxiety you worked to snuff out all night quickly clawed its way out.

From the moment you met Naoya, he'd been a walking enigma who kept going for broke.

The borderline reckless and carefree attitude could even one-up Yuki's, and freshman you definitely couldn't hold a candle. At least the unhinged version of you knew better than to throw caution to the wind and go around looking for randos who happen to do dRUGS???

What if you were like an undercover cop or something, you thought, crossing your glitter-covered arms.

Was his brain constantly on go—never taking a second to think before acting—or was he so confident in himself that he didn't care if others judged him?

It kinda sounded familiar...and was awfully cringe to think about.

But fuck that, how often did he do this?? Go around seducing girls, saving the day, then dragging them to nowhere to—

"An adventure."

What?

Aw, fuck.

God, fuck, there she goes again.

Feet away, yet in your ear, in case you thought you could ever escape her.

Yuki's annoyingly convincing voice echoed through your head like peer pressure on steroids, telling you to chill the fuck out and stop overthinking. Asking you in the most mocking tone your brain could conjure up, "What are you so afraid of?"

Sure, you were a virgin to the world of party drugs...but you couldn't say you'd never been curious.

Degrassi, Skins, and shows alike all set the bar for what college life was supposed to look like long ago, and drugs almost always had a seat at the table—glimmering and glamorized all over television. Surrounded by fun and pretty people.

But you knew fuck all about ecstasy outside of what high school Health Ed class said it would feel like: energy and euphoria— compressed into a colorful little pill.

It wasn't...the best argument against it.

Still, you were a little virgin baby. Aside from alcohol, you'd only flirted with Mary Jane, and that was only a couple of times at a few frat parties freshman year. You didn't exactly have a bucket list for drugs.

But there it was, an opportunity presenting itself.

And as skeptical as you were about Naoya—the mystery, the conveniences, the 'too good to be true' personality that kept poking you in the gut—those same yellow flag, along with his cunning, almost taunting demeanor, dared you to step up to the plate.

Even now, his confident gaze swallowed your doe eyes with a look you couldn't turn away from—thumb gently pressing into your waist with a silent reassurance. In a 'you don't have to do it' kind of way that seemed to take all the weight off.

Still, he tipped his head, gave you a firm squeeze and a grin, and said, "Take it with me—if you want." And sat the split pill, SKY written on it in tiny letters, right on the edge of his pink tongue.

You thought about home. And then you thought about the thrill you'd been searching for all your life. God...

If this went wrong, at least the girls were nearby to kick his teeth in.

You swallowed hard.

There was only one way to say yes, and it rushed out of your mouth before Yuki's voice could taunt you again.

"An adventure," you breathed, quickly diving in before anyone could see—wrapping your tongue around his and tasting bitterness on yours. Ignoring your racing heart from the sheer audacity to be so bold.

His lip lingered on yours until he was sure you swallowed the metallic pill, a small string of slick glistening as he pulled away.

"An adventure," he repeated before flashing his trademark smile and pulling your arms around his neck.

It finally hit you what Naoya reminded you of. Something you used to look for on purpose. Something that required a bit of work and a firm resolve.

Effort.

A challenge.

And it was time to play catch up.

Minutes felt like hours waiting for something, anything, to happen, but Naoya's secure grasp held you and your attention as you danced. Firm. Warm. Melting.

Melting?

Indeed melting—fingers dipping into the divots of your hips as if they could sink through like butter—coaxing your head to lazily float back under the wavy touch. Wavering a moment and brushing Naoya's fingertips with the ends of your waist-length pigtails that were growing increasingly easier to grab.

Pretty steel beams. Were they always this mesmerizing? Or close? Like they would sink to your level just so you could grab on. Or maybe you'd always been 20 feet tall and never knew?

Naoya snickered, holding the weight you practically threw into his arms. Admiring the strobes of light bathing your softly rising and falling chest as you fell into a trance—your body turning to jelly before you even realized it was happening.

But the awareness of your suddenly heavy eyelids and increasingly ridiculous thoughts of the ceiling slapped you down to earth, sending you into a mini panic. Head, heavier than ever, pulling forward until your fluttering eyes met Naoya's blown-out gaze. Staring. Drinking in every subtle change in your warm, flushed face.

A satisfied smirk played on his lips, watching your mouth part and breaths slow. Dying to close the imaginary and real gap that opened and shut between you all night until he once again flushed his skin against yours. And this time, a switch flipped; it wasn't just his proximity making your chest buzz. You swore you were sharing vibrations.

Warmth grew in your core at his touch. The oh-so-unbelievably soft yet coarse yet caressible feel of his skin pulsing against yours. Flooding your veins, spreading from your tongue to the tips of your fingers.

You were tingling.

And couldn't stop tingling.

And knew you couldn't stop tingling no matter how hard you tried, and for some reason, the euphoric thought made you break out into an uncontrollable grin.

"There she is." Naoya lifted your chin, vibrant colors blurring together on his face like a kaleidoscope.

All you wanted to do was stare at him, the array of colors on the cement floor, and the dizzying visual rhythm beating with the music. Like Nang was literally seeping into your bones, begging you to float and finally touch those steel beams.

God, you'd never been so happy you made a decision. That you chose to be here—that he chose you—that you trusted Yuki, the girls, and yourself enough to get out of your rut and end up here. In the arms of a guy you wanted nothing more than to finally give in and slob down from head to toe for being so hot and intoxicating and slyly nibbling on his lip ring every single time you locked eyes.

"Here I am," you said, teasing a grin you hoped was as good as his. Feeling alive, truly alive for the first time that year—completely immersed in the chaotic blend of lights, sounds, and bodily surrealism. Bliss peeled away your breath as his feverish hands danced along your body in a way that was too much and never enough.

Dainty fingers found your outstretched neck, pleasure etching on your face as you caressed the sensitive areas begging to be touched. Fingertips, music, ego, and air binding like sex in a sinful combo—evident by the full display of the undercuff of your ass, eliciting stifled moans from Naoya as your hips swirled into him.

That state of you was telling, and he hoped he didn't give you too much, but your ass looked so goddamn perfect, molding around the growing ache in his already tight jeans. Like you were trying to pull something out of him, but he only laughed to himself because he was sure you'd actually melt into a puddle if he sank his hands into your plush cheeks.

You looked amazing—you felt amazing—everything was amazing—and should always feel like this, you thought.

This high, this joy, this love—it was universal.

Easy.

So very easy to give and take—and deserving,

Everyone deserved love in some away.

And suddenly you were an ecstasy evangelist, slipping from Naoya's arms into the pulsating crowd.

Naturally gravitating to a drunken Utahime, her swaying form coming into focus with bright and infectious laughter amidst the haze. So happy. So carefree. You just had to have some, reaching out to grab her hand and pull her close.

"Isn't this—your breath felt so light, "—just the best?" You shouted over the music, your voice a mix of exhilaration and disbelief.

You laughed, the sound almost lost amongst the beats, as you tugged Utahime closer. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity and amusement, but her attention drew to the sheer ecstasy etched onto your face.

"Seriously," you said, pressing her hand to your chest, "This is everything."

Utahime's smile was warm, but her brows slightly furrowed. "You've, uh, finally come around, ya?"

She hadn't seen this side of you since you'd met. A state that was a little beyond tipsy, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

Shoko sidled up—the least drunk in the group—casually draping her arm over the girl you knew she'd been secretly dating since the beginning of the semester. Cigarette tucked behind her ear like she was going out to smoke soon, but holding a knowing grin. Her gaze swept over you, lingering for just a moment too long before she said, "Someone's certainly having a good time."

Correction, you were having a fantastic time. Everyone should be, you thought, so glad to have all of your girls with you before realizing that someone was missing. And like you knew she would, Yuki had run off. Probably huddled up by a wall, towering over some poor guy or girl by now.

But Shoko's tone flew right over your head—the heat of the crowd catching you in its web. Your body hadn't stopped moving since you came into the circle—a complete slave to the contagious energy and music. Leaving your swaying hips all vulnerable, freely out in the open and unattended to.

Such a shame, some guy thought, someone should take care of that.

It wasn't until you felt a pair of hands glue to your waist and heat against your back that you stopped mid-motion. Rough, almost aggressive, and hasty gropes squeezing your hips but losing you in the manic energy. And as if it were a natural extension of the night's chaos, the sensation rolled your body into the unfamiliar touch in a way that felt out of your control.

And pissed Naoya off.

He'd been watching the entire show from where you left him, allowing you to go off to be with your girls, not a slut for anyone else.

He tsked, his usually smooth demeanor cracking as he glared. Watching you casually give away what was his to some random guy. As if he meant nothing. As if you didn't owe him.

And the sight of the guy's face—smug and sleazy as if he'd hit the jackpot—and his grubby hands inching closer to the grand prize between your thighs, sent Naoya right over the edge.

He moved swiftly through the crowd, eyes locked on you, pulling you away so quickly you missed the way his jaw clenched. Grip firm but controlled as he wove pasted a stunned Shoko and Utahime, through the space, and out into the cool night air.

The warehouse loomed above, its graffiti-splattered walls bathed in the glow of the quarter moon. Fingers gliding over the dusty lines, you traced the art, trailing Naoya who pulled you behind him until he reached the back.

He took a deep breath, trying to mask his unexpected jealousy, but the way you were being so ditzy and cute and oblivious to the world only added fuel to the fire.

You didn't mean to, his reaction was just so funny, especially when he looked so flustered trying to hide his lingering scowl with a slick grin that, for the first time that night, didn't reach his eyes.

And you wouldn't stop fucking laughing, even as he kept walking towards you until your back hit the warehouse wall.

But that smile was deceiving.

His hand shot out, grabbing a hold of your face, fingers digging into your cheeks and tilting your chin so he could look into your glazed-over eyes.

"Such a pretty girl," he murmured. your lips feeling like putty as he teased with his thumb,

Though his words seemed sweet, a twinge of unease sparked in your chest watching his eyes turn dark, sadistic. Hungry. The playful facade shattering, earning your undivided attention and bringing your giggles to a halt when you realized he wasn't fucking around.

Your eyes widened. Whatever you'd been teasing all night had finally awoken and stood at your door. Ready to devour your faltering heart as slow, heavy breaths escaped your glossed lips.

He had to taste them.

And did, lips crashing onto yours, teeth and tongue dominating your mouth until you moaned into his.

Your arm wrapped around his neck, searching for leverage against the furious energy, before feeling it pin to the wall. His other hand slipped from your face, ghosting from your jaw to your neck—squeezing lightly, almost growling, and stealing your breath.

He pulled away, his eyes following his finger tracing the maze of net resting over your chest. Taking your glinting belly ring—the perfect match to his lip ring—between his thumb and forefinger, eliciting a slight groan from you when he tugged.

He smirked—the face you made when you winced was even prettier than your surprise face. He wondered what other ones he could get out of you.

And just when you thought the torture was over, his fingers slid around your back, finally twisting into one of your pigtails with a pull.

Your head snapped back and his lips attached to your neck, breath hot against your skin as he inhaled your intoxicating scent—biting, sucking, trying to mark you. Mind flashing to the guy he should've punched for even looking at you.

You gasped, being forced to use your free arm to hold onto him when his leg swept between your thighs, propping you up on his knee.

He groaned into your neck—your panties were absolutely ruined—damping his skin with so much stringy slick, he struggled to keep himself from rutting into you.

But your hips wouldn't stop moving even if you tried. Grinding into the friction that felt like fire every time your clit bumped into a rip in his jeans. So disgusting lewd, but you were growing so warm with each pulsing thump. Unashamedly needing more. And painting his skin with juicy kisses.

Damn, he thought, smirking against your skin at your whimpers. Wondering if you'd start panting like a dog in heat as your fucks to give flew out the window. Mind only fixed on the lip-biting flick of your feverish clit that made your walls clench around nothing.

But he wouldn't let you cum that easily. At least not like that. No, he needed to do it himself.

He pinned you still, grip tight on your waist and lips finding yours when you whined from the lost of sensation. Sneaking a hand under your skirt and making you moan into his mouth when he grabbed your ass. Finally feeling your soft and warm and plush curves melt into his fingers.

"I want you," he said between kisses.

Your mews as your pressed into his touch told him you wanted him too, but he needed to hear you say it.

Fingers crawling under your things, he drew slow, long hot lines across your skin until they reached your parted valley. Your breath hitched, knowing where he was heading, but you spread wider, hoping he would hurry and get there faster. Inching closer and closer to your sweet heat with a slow breath, he brought you nearer and nearer to a rapture you seldomly experienced when he suddenly stopped at the precipice.

"Say it."

Your brows furrowed.

"Tell me what you want."

You spit out the only thing you knew. "I want you." And your mouth fell open feeling a warm pad on your clit. His thumb just resting there, feeling you throb through your thin g-string. Waiting to see if you'd be so bold as to hump him again. Whining and writhing instead, you fell prey to the touch that was light to most but dizzying in the world of E.

"You want me to what?"

Your cheeks warmed. God, was he gonna drag it out of you if you didn't say it?

Once more, you latched your mouth onto his to avoid saying so, only to accidentally bite the inside of his bottom lip when two fingers roughly pushed inside you.

"Fuck, you're so tight." And warm and soaked.

He didn't even care that you almost bit a hole into him, only focused on stuffing you full until resistance finally gave way and swallowed his fingers.

Your stomach tightened, legs drawing together only to be blocked by his knee as his fingers swam deeper than the nails you dug into his back until he bottomed out.

Fire grew in your hand, his grip sliding from your arm to pin your wrist. You started to squirm. It was too much at once.

And made Naoya's dick stand on ten watching your body resist but betray itself by continuing to make his fingers glisten in the moonlight.

You poor things who couldn't make up your mind, Naoya thought. Teasing him all night only to run from his fingers.

If you were squeezing that tight around two little digits, he wondered how you'd feel on his dick. How long it would take for your eyes to roll into the back of your head.

How quickly he could pull an orgasm out of you.

He let your arm fall, his slipping under to palm your ass and pull you closer. Tightening around your waist so you couldn't escape his fingers brutally pumping into you.

"ff-fUCK!" A gasp ripped from your chest, your eyes screwing shut at the blazing sin that just rippled through your body.

What was thAT???

A funny button in you was assaulted over and over and over again, forcing your walls to clench on command and send fiery tingles straight to your clit.

Desperate hands scrambled to find purchase around his neck, holding on for dear life. You felt yourself go tense at the relentless rhythm, but even moreso at the unfamiliar face shooting through your core. Slender fingers rutting in and pumping out—running juices down his wrist.

The squelching sounds penetrated your ears, mouth falling open as drool began to dribble down. You felt your brain fizzling out, eyes going cross—he was hitting that same spot over and over and over again. Dragging the breath from your lungs with every dip. And the few whines you failed to suppress that did slip out, couldn't compete with his merciless strokes. Purposefully working an angle that sent swarms of vibrations to your curling toes.

An unfamiliar warmth began to pool in your walls, making his dick twitch feeling your little pulses start to clench around his fingers. You were so close so fast, but then he slowed.

"Now tell me what you want."

You could die.

Literally die from the embarrassment, the desperation, the filthy way you were still trying to steal back even a smidge of that foreign but addicting touch by attempting to wiggle your hips you knew he wouldn't allow out of place—if you weren't hoping to die on his fingers first.

But a desperate pout formed, knowing he wouldn't give it to you without you folding.

And your pathetic pussy begged you to bend.

"I-I wan..." He grabbed your chin when your lips pursed closed, slotting his thumb between them to open them again.

No more hiding, no more silence, no more games.

His other thumb pressed right on your clit, fingers curling and stilling right against that magic button that blew fireworks into your rolling eyes. He was gonna make you talk.

And with a shaky breath, defeated and damn near pleading, you begged. "Please...make me c-cum." Looking at him like you were feeble and yearning. Like his demand was all that mattered. "Please."

There it was.

The submission he'd been waiting for all night.

Flushed cheeks and helpless doe eyes. Puffy lips slowly closing around his thumb and planting desperate kisses.

Neediness staring him in the face.

No longer caring that he literally had you wrapped around his finger.

He smirked, fighting the urge to cum just from sight. Right where he wanted you. Less was said.

You gaped when his knee moved, swiftly falling a few inches before he lifted your thigh—pressing it against the wall to spread you wide.

Sounds of your vinyl skirt stretching ripped through the air, and you should've been worrying about the possibility of it tearing if it weren't for fingers stealing your focus again. He hummed feeling easily slip back in, middle and ring fingers this time to hook perfectly inside and blow your g-spot to absolute smithereens.

Crying out, you almost drew blood from your lip as your body went rigid, clinging to him. The sensation you were just ready to sell your soul for relentlessly spamming on 1000.

If it was borderline too much before, with this new angle that lended him direct access, it was torturously too much now. But he could care less if you clawed his back to death as you tried to run to and run from the mouth-watering intensity.

Your pussy sounded so good for him, making him moan and grind his dick into your thigh like it was an extension of his fingers. Leaving hot kisses on your neck as his thumb drew dizzying circles on your clit. Making your toes flex and shaky foot slowly rise up off the ground. Obliterating what was left of free thought as your breath hitched.

He took in your rapturous face, feeling a rush of power and control surge through his veins. The authority he had over your body as he wrestled moans out of you filled him with an intoxicating sense of dominance.

Every gasp, every tremble, only fueled his intention to give you exactly what you didn't know you needed all night. To completely unravel under his command.

The fiery pool returned with a brain-altering vengeance and your pulses grew stronger and closer until he was absolutely positive you were seconds away from tasting heaven. And looking dead on into your blurry eyes, he finally gave you permission.

"Cum."

And the tight coil ruthlessly snapped. Walls surrendering to the all-consuming touch that sent your eyes rolling as your pussy harshly clenched on his fingers. Body arching into the fervid touch before you stopped breathing and your colorful vision went white.

Pornographic moans finally broke from you, loud and lewd and desperate enough you were sure you could draw a crowd.

And what a sight it was for Shoko to witness the very moment you tumbled into rapture, cigarette she stepped outside to smoke almost slipping from her lips.

The only witness of you climbing aboard the ecstasy train didn't think it would have led you this far, but the pledge you made earlier that year to swear off your freshman-year antics—sex and relationships included—was clearly long forgotten. Utahime didn't believe you, often provoked you even, and Shoko, not knowing you as well, just took our word for it.

But there you were, living out your wildest Skins dream. Holding hands with the Little Death with a side of alcohol and ecstasy. Cries falling on deaf ears and he continued to fuck you through your blinding orgasm.

Main character energy, she thought as she lit her cigarette, turning to leave before she was noticed. Taking note to maybe try that with Utahime one day.

Minutes later, you returned on the scene with Bambi legs, finding Shoko leaning against the entrance door. She stayed up front to make sure you made it back in safely and ignored the slick running down your legs you couldn't clean up until you got to the restroom. Naoya gave her a knowing win as he trailed behind you, but she got a weird feeling.

She was all for you finally having a bit of fun, but there was something specifically about Naoya that didn't sit right with her.

Maybe it was the way he carried himself, too cocky and self-assured. Or maybe it was his sly smirk that seemed to hint at something slightly predatory, looking at you in a way that felt less like affection or even lust and more like possession.

But maybe she was just thinking too hard and this was just a simple hookup you needed to shake off your shackles, put yourself back out there and never see the guy again.

That's what college life was. Hookup, discard, and repeat. Just another wild night to bank in your core memory.

And the night had certainly been beyond magic, and definitely home to one of the most intense orgasms you'd ever had, and when you thought back on it, that was one of the few times someone else managed to get you off...ever. But when you really took a moment to think about it, especially knowing what you know now, the more you chalked it up to probably being because of the drugs.

In actually, the frantically hot and spontaneous encounter that had you talking to God (very...interesting conversation) probably wouldn't have been that great if you were in your right mind, but your intoxicated hormones in the heat of the moment didn't care because it was a hell of a lot better than what you were used to.

Before that night, having big the 'O' during sex was like a myth to you.

Satisfaction either always narrowly escaped your grasp or was never on the table from the beginning, and for a while, you thought it was normal to always be left hot, bothered, and wanting more, ever since you first learned to do the horizontal dance.

Your own satisfaction was never a priority, never thought of or talked about, not even to yourself. With every partner, you made sure they were well taken care of, that they met sweet relief with heavy breaths and a smile on their sweaty faces every time. While your desires laid brushed aside, unspoken and unexplored.

But that night with Naoya was different—he was the first to turn the focus on you, the first time someone had taken care of you, even if it was grasping at straws.

He pined for your attention. He gave you effort. A night full of impulsivity, unpredictability, mystery, and challenge—all wrapped up in a flaming hot bow.

Everything you thought you lost, everything you thought you needed in a boyfriend.

Having one of those was a staple in high school that you missed out on because of your hectic and busy schedule on the road. So when you got to college, you sure knew how to pick them. Freshman year was a joke.

You went through one relationship and one 'situationship' before throwing in the towel in favor of hookups. At least those were less painful and had a clear deadline for when they would end.

No surprises, no heartaches, no one to blame. Just a mutual parting

But Naoya was something you simply could not walk away from, and by the way he stuck to you like glue for weeks, randomly popping up at your campus and whisking you away into his world for hours on end until you made him your boyfriend, neither could he.

Everything about being with Naoya was perfect.

His eagerness to chauffer his passenger princess around in his real-life Hot Wheel, taking you to the coolest spots, just like that night, and introducing you to all kinds of mesmerizing people. Always ending the night with feverish, snaking hot that groped your willing body into submission and made you feel more special than anyone else he could ever know.

His.

The ideal boyfriend: attentive and charismatic. A constant thrill.

A bit too much of a thrill.

Slowly, but surely merging into a slightly loose canon as unexpected droplets of a storm began to form. His charm and attention and lust and want and need for you were still there, but so were the cracks that gradually began to chip and show.

For one, Naoya wasn't in school, which was fine; instead, he called himself an entrepreneur. Though, exactly what he did was always a bit of a mystery.

His days were filled with handling sketchy 'business deals' and half-baked schemes that, over time, almost always failed and ended with him turning to you to help bail him out.

Your brains, your beauty, your sweet charm.

Whatever he could use to settle a deal and handle business.

It was what girlfriends did, you thought. Supporting your man was something you never second-guess, never even questioned as you knew he would have your back as much as you had his.

Until he didn't.

Having a habit of making big promises and diving headfirst into opportunities that almost always seemed too good to be true, that fearless confidence you fell in love with, once landed him in an embarrassing mess.

Weeks spent bragging about a "surefire" investment with one of his partners to not only end up in the red but also behind bars. And on the phone sounding like a kicked puppy. Asking you to bail him out.

It was the first time either of you had been thrust into such a serious situation, even if it was just a small charge, but Naoya swore it wasn't a big deal. Admitting that he had made mistakes but promising his intentions were pure.

"I did it for us," he said, voice lined with shame and apology, repeating that you deserved better but that he was trying—really trying—to give you everything you needed. So full of regret for even slightly jeopardizing what you two had built and you had never heard him so vulnerable and sorry as he promised it would never happen again.

Dragging your heart into the ground.

But as painful as it was to hear your boyfriend plead to save your relationship, nothing could have prepared you for the pain of swiping your card and watching the last of your savings disappear to keep it going.

Making up your mind that this was just another storm to weather amidst the whirlwind of hurricanes that was Naoya because he had been so good to you. Surely you could look over his idiotic mistake and help him out this one time. He only did it for you after all.

To you, he had his quirks. To everyone else, he was shit.

But being there for him kind of reminded you of why you chose healthcare.

Your pocket vibrated, making you let go of your souvenir and memories of that night as you fished out your phone before sighing.

Speak of the Devil, you'd just thought him up.

"Hi, baby."

"Hey babe, how's my Doll?"

You relaxed on the bench, blushing. He sounded like he was in a good mood—always did when he used the little nickname he gave you that made you feel so small and safe.

Stress slowly left your body as you vented about work and how you were not looking forward to getting off only to clock right back in to study for your upcoming exam when you returned to your dorm.

"Aw, baby." You thought you could hear him pout through the phone. "How 'bout we blow off some steam when you're done? A little reward?"

You raised a brow. "Whatcha got in mind?" Hoping it wasn't the usual invitation to just 'solve your problems' with sex or some wild night on the town.

"One of the guys found his Nintendo 64, and I thought we could borrow it and play some games, ya?"

"Oooo," you sat up. "What games?" You hadn't had time to plop down in front of a TV to watch a show, let alone play a game in years.

"Uhh, mostly action, RPG and fantasy. Some kid games like Mario Kart and Lego Racers, but I was thinking we could 1V1 in J-League."

And suddenly, you were back in a familiar living room you hadn't seen in years.

Plush, brown carpet soft beneath your thighs, you sat cross-legged, Wii controller cool in your hands. Room dim, the glow of the TV casts flickering lights across your eyes as sounds of fast-paced music fill your ears.

Suguru nudges your shoulder, "C'mon keep up." And smiles.

And you gently smile back, feeling pulled into the waves of nostalgia. The memory and others alike always so soft, so easy. So comforting to fall into the world of one of the last times you two had fun together, before he made high school hell.

Now you were sure he was off somewhere traveling the world and living his best life.

Your life.

What it was supposed to be.

The walls were back up to shield you from the bittersweet ache.

Naoya was right. Mario Kart was for kids.

"You still there?"

"Ya, babe." You sighed to yourself, reminding yourself that those who needed to be in your life we're here now, not in the past. "I would love to. You're best." You smiled.

He laughs. "In bed, too."

..debatable.

extended angel's note: i hope you guys didn't mind the little "diversion" this story had to take (i am not in control) BUT i promise it all serves a purpose. your basket should be good and full with enough little easter eggs now to finally close out the story in part 3 where it all comes together to absolutely blow your angsty socks (and panties) off. it'll all be worth the wait (is highkey the morale of the story 🤠) thank you for rocking with me

p.s. sorry for the Naoya jumpscare but how are we all feeling about your lovely boyfriend 🤩💗

tag list: @7thsthings @elliesndg @jirishnesensei @blkkizzat

157 notes · View notes

pespillo · 4 months ago

Note

your drain folk beauty standards post is super interesting!! I'd love to know more about the impact they've had on the bizzyboys we see in game. Like how is capochin considered fem for a drain guy? Hector doesn't match the masc ideal seeing as he's the tallest of the drain folk we see in game. Is it a point of insecurity or does he like to be more fem leaning (i personally hc hector as transfem postcanon too so i have thoughts hehehe). Where do the other bizzyboys fall into these standards? What variations are there within the bizzygroups?

Your art is wonderful and I love seeing your hcs!! dont feel pressured to answer everything i just got excited hehe

Have a wonderful weekend!!

when i talk abt drain beauty standards we ALSO have to take in mind that there is a big theme of exceptionalism and obvious influence of the outer earth and grove pushing Inspekta´s views towards his own individualism, so the bizzyboys have shifted from drain-standards towards Inspekta´s standards, which is basically whatever neurotic view of the world he will hold at that moment that often reflects his own insecurities, and that goes often directly to Capo , Hector had been already been implied to been treated poorly before godhood and worked really hard for respect, he was tall for a drain guy, he stood out like a thumb and perceived sorta motherly, but in a way that made others walk all over him or treat him like a breathing coat hanger, so as retaliation he bulked up and emphasized reliability and command to be perceived as more masculine, surrounding himself with people and studying n studying to appear more interesting and refined, Capo was his first true devotee and at first he was reaffirmed constantly of his masculinity, he followed through and they both made good emphasis of the strength of numbers and charisma, of making strong impressions of people and looking like they always know what they are doing,

but after godhood , Inspekta basically held onto a TON of baggage and internalized a lot of things and got overwhelmed by the amount of information the world had to offer, the way they were all being perceived in the grove was just a big change, Inspekta turned into a very superficial person, and pushed people into roles they probably didnt know they were cornered into, Inspekta has a lot of gender dysphoria and because he doesnt cope well with it, he cant allow himself to Be part of femininity because that means going back to being demeaned and looked over, he basically starts living thru Capo by praising any waifish traits he shows which Capo interprets more romantically than it actually is, because Inspekta is being very self centered here, which goes to show that dysphoria can not only hurt yourself but others too.

besides that tangent, the rest of the bizzyboys do have some variation but with the process of selection of the team Inspekta has made sure they Are up to the standard, with exception for Grujaja, who i think would be a bit above average height for a drain guy, but he is constantly hunching over and wearing the cone thats bigger than him makes him look smaller, as for Vib, Vibiano has been "breaking the code" for years, he wears heels that are almost as tall as Capo´s , lotta jewerly, contouring and posturing in ways to make himself look taller and willowy and elegant, and nobody questions this because Capo allows it, because Vib makes Capo look more masculine if they are side by side (and Vib actively asserts Capo´s masculinity without conditions) . its all a very dumb balance of performance here.

#great god grove #asks #samsa´s art stuff

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space-age-bachelor · 2 months ago

Text

Accidents Yet to Be (2/?)

Chapter One

Steve gets a phone call in the middle of the night from an unexpected source.

ao3

Steve didn’t know how Batman got his phone number. Sure, the man had rescued him and Dick from a few kidnapping attempts, and there was that thing with Two-Face at the botanical gardens, but he’d never given the man his number. Unless he stole it from a police report. Regardless, he didn’t appreciate getting woken up in the middle of the night by Batman growling an address at him.

“And why do I need to go to crime alley?” He grumbled, already pulling on his pants and a sweatshirt that was probably his. He figured the caped crusader would have a good reason, even if it was annoying.

”There’s a child here. I trust you can deliver him safely to Wayne Manor.”

Steve was suddenly wide awake, growling back. “Did that little shit tell you to call me?” As soon as he got there, that kid was dead.

Batman took a second to reply, sounding more uncomfortable than Steve thought him capable. “He may have implied that you were the best person to handle this.”

”I’ll be there in ten.” He hung up without an ounce of remorse.

His Hawkins kids have given him heart attacks before. Nothing could really top finding himself in the backseat of the Beemer as Max sped towards an extra dimensional monster, but he’d been with them. The thought of Dick alone in crime alley , ending up in a situation where Batman had to step in…Steve was channeling his terror into fury.

Five minutes later, he was screeching to a halt behind the Batmobile.

“Where the hell is he?” He barked as he slammed the car door, scanning the dingy street for his charge. “Richard John Grayson, you better have an explanation for this.”

Batman held him back from the two small forms huddled on the hood of the, frankly, kick-ass car. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding.”

The kids turned around and Steve’s concern melted away. The unmasked child wasn’t Dick. Even in the dim streetlights, he knew that wasn’t his kid. For one, he was younger, probably even small than the boy had been a few years back when they met. He was pale too, with sunken cheeks stained with dirt and a few random scratches.

Steve must’ve scared him because he turned his eyes were blown wide with fear as he tucked himself closer to the Boy Wonder, using his cape as a shield.

“Bruce asked you to have me pick up an emergency foster placement.” He relaxed into the grip. After what happened with Dick, neither of them trusted the Gotham foster system to place a kid in a safe home, especially not one so noticeably traumatized. “You should’ve led with that. I thought Dick—“

Batman nodded, and, softer than Vicki Vale would ever believe, said, “His name is Jason Todd. He’s seven years old. Robin caught him trying to steal the tires off the Batmobile.”

“Bold little shit,” he laughed. “Has he eaten?” They could swing past a drive-thru on their way to the Manor.

”Robin got him Batburger before I called you.”

Probably not the best meal for a starving child, but it was about the same as what Steve would’ve given him. Though his Midwest sensibilities make him a Big Belly Burger fan. Besides, Alfred’s meal plan wouldn’t leave much room for fast food.

He took a deep breath to settle himself even further and made his way towards the boys.

“Hey, Robin,” he gave the masked kid a quick smile. “Heard you made a new friend.”

He lit up, pulling the smaller boy closer by an arm around his waist. “Yeah! This is Jason. He got three of the wheels off the Batmobile. I helped him get them back on in exchange for some food.”

“That’s great.” He waved to the new boy. “I’m Steve. Batman asked me if I could drive you to Bruce Wayne’s place.”

”How do you know Batman?” Jason scrunched his face up, showing what he thought of that association.

Steve opened his mouth to explain, only to be cut off by Robin. “He’s what Bats calls a ‘high profile target.’”

”Why is a driver a target?”

”Because I’m not a driver, I’m a babysitter for Bruce Wayne’s kid. When people want him, they usually have to get through me.” He smiled gently at Jason. “And now, he asked me to protect you.”

Robin nodded, “He knocked Two Face out with a baseball bat.”

Jason eyed him with a new form of awe. “What about Wayne? All I know is that he’s some rich bastard. How do I know he’s better than any other fosters?”

“Batman called us because we don’t trust the system. Richard Grayson had some bad experiences with it, and we’d all feel better knowing you were somewhere safe until we get this all sorted. I’m not gonna promise it’ll be perfect, B can be a bit ridiculous sometimes, but it’ll be safe.”

After a small smile from Robin, Jason took his hand and eased off the hood of the car. He grabbed the tire iron too, but Steve let him have that for protection.

Before they left, after he got Jason tucked into the back seat, Steve hurried over to Batman. “Hey, thanks for taking care of Jace. I might work for Wayne and the commish, but if you ever need anything, you have my number.”

Steve didn’t leave Jason’s room until he was positive the kid was asleep. Batman had claimed he was 7, but tucked into the full-size bed with Ace curled up beside him, he looked so small. It was hard to come to terms with all the pain and tragedy that had haunted his Hawkins kids, and Dick, before they had met. Jason was a whole other story; he was far too young, younger than all of them, and he’d been alone.

“Thank you,” Bruce spoke from the top of the stairs, startling Steve from his musings. “I know this was well outside the scope of your duty—“

Steve waved him off. He didn’t want Bruce worrying about his job description next time there was an emergency. “You needed help and Jason’s a sweet kid. I’m glad you called me.”

“No one better.” He smiled, focusing on Steve with his undivided attention. His gaze had a weight to it, like gravity pulling Steve further down the darkened hallway. “Alfred could’ve gone, but… you’re good with them.”

He understood where Bruce was coming from. While Steve would argue that Alfred was better in general, the butler could be a little intimidating. He’d been terrified when he met the true head of the Wayne household. Despite passing an incredibly thorough background check, Steve had felt like he was going to melt under the pressure of his expectations. For someone like Jace who wasn’t used to adults caring about him, it could have complicated the whole pick-up more than Steve’s mistake had.

“It’s just experience.” He soothed the new foster father. “You’ve been doing great with Dick.” He winced, a thought crossing his mind. “What are you planning on telling him? Is he okay with sharing his home?” The ‘and his dad’ went unsaid.

Bruce chuckled. “When I woke him up to tell him, he insisted on bringing Jason here. I think he just wants a little brother.”

That sounded like his kid. Steve couldn’t help a small smile at the idea pf these two boys being brothers.. He’d grown up in a big house, all alone except for the cleaning company that came every other week. It would be nice for Dick to have someone to keep him company, and he had so much love in his heart. “He’ll be a great brother, and Jason needs someone in his corner.”

”I might be calling on you more often.” He admitted, looking sheepish at the prospect of upping his hours. “It’ll be beneficial for Jason to have an adult he trusts around the house.”

“For stability, of course.” Steve had a feeling it wouldn’t just be for the boys. It would be easy to make the time for his favorite family. He only really had two regular clients, including the Waynes. Everything else was just one or two time gigs, and he was sure the commissioner would understand if Bruce needed him. “Just let me know when. I’ll smooth everything over with Gordon if there are any conflicts.” He started to head past him to the staircase, only to be stopped by a hand on his shoulders.

”It’s late.” Bruce nodded down the hall towards the family rooms. “Alfred’s had a room made up, stay the night.”

It wasn’t the first time he was staying over. He’d been watching Dick overnight whenever Bruce had a business trip. But there was something about staying in the family wing, being offered a place in the home that left Steve’s mouth dry.

He agreed. He had to. It’d be nice to see Jason in the morning, and when Bruce asked him like that, it was hard to say no.

#batfam fic #batman #steve harrington #babysitter steve harrington #jason todd #dick grayson #robin dick grayson #bruce wayne #stranger things

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nectar-cellar · 1 year ago

Note

I feel the most comfortable asking you this but I am STRUGGLING with severe lag in my TS3 game. I just did a clean install, tried smooth patch, took it out bc it was conflicting with Nraas and didn’t make a difference, but it’s still nearly unplayable. I’ve tried every tutorial under the Sun. don’t remember having this issue years ago when I played. Do you have any tips or tutorials that you recommend? TY in advance!

heyy 💛💛

the only tutorial i really followed was the sims 3 performance and bug fix guide hosted on steam which i'm sure most sims 3 players know about. i'm not sure how helpful my answer will be but this is what i would suggest:

smooth patch

i believe nraas and smooth patch conflict in create-a-sim mode, you can't enable master controller's compact mode with smooth patch integrated with it. so what i did was:

first, install smooth patch according to the MTS page instructions. you should have "ld_SmoothPatch" and "ld_SmoothPatch_MasterController" in your Mods/Packages folder

using s3pe, open "ld_SmoothPatch.package"

in the s3pe screen, right-click on the xml thingy named LazyDuchess.SmoothPatch.Tuning

in the right-click menu, click on "Notepad" then make sure kMasterControllerIntegration value = "False"

save and close the notepad window. then, in s3pe, save the change you made and close s3pe.

nraas mc and smooth patch should no longer conflict. this is the only nraas mc and smooth patch conflict that i am aware of, unless there are others...? but that's how i got them to play together.

lag

the main issues that used to cause super long loading times for me and lagging during gameplay were the following:

thousands of unmerged cc packages in my mods folder

laptop had HDD instead of SSD

framerate was not capped

a lot of script mods installed which were probably conflicting with each other and using a lot of resources in the background

sooo the steps i took were:

organized and merged most of my cc packages into packages smaller than 1 GB - reduces lag and load times

changing my laptop's hard drive to a SSD decreased load times and reduced lag dramatically for me - also adding more ram to my laptop probably helped. but this is a pretty extreme option. i had to replace my hard drive with a SSD because it literally died.

when i used to play on my laptop with a HDD, capping the framerate to 30 or 60 FPS helped to reduce the lagging during gameplay. you can limit the game's framerate using smooth patch, using "3Booter", or thru your computer's graphics card.

script mods like nraas story progression and mingos birds and bees are script mods that are known to cause lag in the game because they are resource heavy. the only way to remove the lag is to uninstall them or, for nraas SP, i set the speed of the story progression to the slowest option.

so yeah i hope that is helpful <3

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cheolism-archive · 2 years ago

Text

on his back

➳ kim mingyu x f!reader

➳ summary: when you send a picture of you struggling from the lack of ac in your office and scold mingyu for sticking his hand down his pants, he can't help but get on his back and spread his legs for you.

➳ word count is approx 3k

➳ tags/warnings (PLEASE READ): sub!gyu, bottom!gyu,. dom!reader, top!reader. reader has female anatomy, refers to breasts and bras. anal penetration (male receiving), anal sex and fingering. prostate massage/milking. degradation and praise, nicknames (slut, whore, bitch; babyboy, sweetheart)(male receiving); use of the word "pervert". over stimulation, multiple orgasms, crying during sex. big dick!gyu, size kink but you've got smaller hands than him and he's obsessed. he's a bit of a perv at the beginning. use of dildos, mating press (male receiving). switches between gyu and reader's pov, reader does not orgasm. the dildo is sometimes referred to as the reader's "dick"

➳ please. if you do not like this sort of thing, do not read. mdni.

Mingyu was going to revoke your picture-taking privileges.

The conversation was innocent, of course. You were complaining about the temperature of the office, the air conditioning having decided to quit on one of the hottest days so far.

my baby 💍✨🙈💛:

the ac is broke and i am suffering so. much.

gyu my shirt is literally stuck to my skin.

i look like i’ve been walking thru a swamp

look

The picture you sent, although you had innocent intentions, did not-so-innocent things to Mingyu.

Your shirt was sticking to your torso, the fabric doing nothing against the heat. He could seat the outline of your bra against it, could see how it clung to your breasts. Your hair was stuck to your face in several places, forehead shining from the thin layer of sweat that had accumulated during your time in the sweltering office.

You really did look like you've been walking through a swamp, or even just have been walking outside during the height of summer, when the sun was relentless and city pavement did nothing to alleviate the heat and instead trapped it. Like you spent the hour running on a treadmill, like you've spent the past hour leaning over Mingyu, hands deep in his ass.

Mingyu couldn’t help but stare at the picture for several minutes. He was very aware of his dick swelling in his pants, of it angrily throbbing for attention, but he ignored it in favor of running his eyes over your face and torso over and over.

Then you sent another message.

my baby 💍✨🙈💛:

ugh i just went to the bathroom too. fucking underwear is soaked

If Mingyu had a list of phrases that could immediately get him to full hardness, that would be towards the top for sure.

He knew, logically, this was all about your suffering through the heat. That your underwear was damp from sweat, not from your arousal. You were sweaty from the heat, not from sex. Sweaty from being trapped in your office, not trapped between his thighs.

But fuck, if there was one thing about Mingyu, it was that he had an imagination.

So he leaned against the kitchen counter, abandoning the dishes. He stuck his hand down his pants, eyes still hooked on your picture and texts. His dick was a heavy, comforting weight in his hand, long and thick.

Mingyu hissed between his teeth, smoothing his hand down his cock. He rubbed his thumb against the tip, forcing precum from it.

“My underwear is so wet,” he could practically hear you saying, could hear the taunting tone of your voice. Mingyu wondered if he’d be able to smell it, smell your cunt as you bullied him.

my baby 💍✨🙈💛:

gyu? what are you doing? i can see you reading my messages

His hand tightened on his dick, heart racing in his chest.

my baby 💍✨🙈💛:

oh my god

are you? masturbating? to my sweaty fucking selfie?

Mingyu sucked in a shallow breath, hand squeezing his cock. Then he gathered the precum that had gathered at the tip. He began to spread it along the length of his dick, the fluid not enough to ease the friction of skin against skin, his palm against his cock, but Mingyu moaned into the feel of it, groaning at the drag of his calluses against his sensitive cock. He couldn't help but buck his hips up into his hand, to continue to seek out the feeling.

my baby 💍✨🙈💛:

kim mingyu.

what a fucking pervert. i can’t believe you’re fucking your dick bc of a single selfie of me sweating.

is that it? are you a dirty pervert, kim mingyu?

Whining at the back of his throat, Mingyu squeezed his eyes shut momentarily. His hand picked up speed against his cock, thumb working at the veins and tip. The drag of his hand against his cock, the feel of his hand working his dick felt so good, but Mingyu still couldn’t help but feel like he was missing something.

Mingyu brought his hand from his pants. He wiped it off on his sweats before typing, thumbs flying over the keyboard in his rush, not even comprehending what he was saying.

me:

Please

my baby 💍✨🙈💛:

get yourself ready. i’ll take a half day bc of the heat.

can't believe my boyfriend's so fucking needy he'll jack off to a sweaty selfie of me.

if you’ve cum before i get home, you’re not cumming in me for a week. understand, babyboy?

answer me, mingyu.

me:

Yes

Wont

Mingyu practically ran for the bedroom, shoving his sweats down his long legs and leaving them in the hall. He automatically went for the bedside table, taking out the large bottle of lube. Excitement, desperation, and lust coursed through his veins, not even bothering to take off his shirt as he climbed onto the bed.

Mingyu gathered the pillows towards him, stuffing them beneath his hips, raising them slightly to help with the angle. His hands practically shook as he snapped open the bottle, as he squeezed harshly to force lube out and onto his hand.

He ignored his large, aching, dick, how Mingyu's thighs shook, clenching, desperate for attention. Instead he focused on his asshole, pressing one single finger against his rim.

He wished it was your finger pressing against his hole, wished it was you kneeling between his knees, your fingers, smaller than his, working his ass. Wished you were leaning over him, cooing at him, bullying him, the tips of your fingers massaging against his prostate, bringing tears to the corners of his eyes.

You’d laugh at him. He could practically hear it. You’d laugh at him, berate him, tell him off for being too loud. Call him a desperate little slut, your desperate little slut. You’d say how pretty he looks on his back for you, how pretty his little hole is.

Mingyu bit down on his lip sharply, canines tugging. He dug his heels into the bed, willing himself to slow down. He had worked two of his fingers in, deliberately missing his prostate in hopes of staving off an orgasm in attempt to obey you.

He could come like this, he thought. Fingers in his ass, mind filled with thoughts of you.

And then you were there at the doorway to your shared bedroom. Just like in the picture, you were sweaty. Your hair stuck to your neck, face shining with sweat. You raised your eyebrows at him as you crossed into the bedroom, and he watched, desperate and wanton, as you pulled off your work shirt and tossed it to the ground.

Mingyu watched as you went to the closet, hoping fervently you were doing what he thought you were. You hadn’t said anything to him yet, the room quiet other than the sound of his fingers, slick, working at his ass, and his heavy pants. Suspense seemed to build between the two of you, Mingyu so desperately wanting some sort of acknowledgment.

Finally you climbed onto the bed, Mingyu’s dildo in hand. It was his favorite. It was as large as he was, colored a soft pink that reminded him of flowers. He couldn't help but squeeze his eyes shut at the sight of it, hole clenching against his fingers.

“You didn’t cum, did you?”

Your voice had his hole tightening involuntarily, his body already reacting to you.

“No,” he whined, voice pitchy. Mingyu bit down on his lip, arching his back a little. He wanted to look pretty for you, and he knew he did. He knew what he looked like, long figure splayed on the bed. His thick thighs spread wide, hips tilted up to make the reach to his hole easier. Sun-kissed legs, long and thick and muscled, opening and making room for your body to wedge between them.

“What a good boy you are,” you praised. Mingyu grinned in satisfaction, feeling your praise settle deep within him, his stomach twisting pleasantly and sending more heat to his dick.

But then you’re pulling his hand from his ass, his hole frantically clenching around his fingers in an attempt to keep them in. Sighing, you frowned at him in disapproval. "Gyu. If you want me to fuck you then you have to get your hand out of your ass."

Mingyu pouted, but he did as you said.

You grab the lube bottle from where it had been abandoned beside him, squeezing out a generous amount. Two of your fingers then pressed against his ass, and then he’s immediately pushing his hips down onto you, desperate to get your fingers inside.

You laughed, your other hand bracing on his knee. You pushed his leg back, baring more of his ass. “God, Mingyu. Look at you. So fucking desperate for me to fuck your ass, are you?”

“Yes,” he sighed. “Want you to fuck me, baby.”

Giggling, you lean down and press a kiss to his knee, his heart fluttering and the skin you kissed tingling. Your fingers pressed into his hole, but when he tried to grind down on them you pull back. “Mingyu. You gotta be patient for me. If we go too fast you’ll hurt.”

Mingyu whined, pouting. He wanted you to fuck him already, wanted to feel your dick stretching him out regardless of the pain. But he knew, logically, it was for the best, and if it were the other way around he'd take great care not to hurt you.

“I can always get the smaller dick,” you say tauntingly, knowing for a fact Mingyu would rather be prepped for an hour straight, bullied to the point of weeping, than to give up the large dick resting beside you.

“No,” he tossed his head back against the bed, toes curling. “No. I’ll be good; be patient.”

You cooed at him, and then your fingers were reentering his hole. Your two fingers were smaller than his, had less girth and length. But you pressed them inside, a loud moan escaping Mingyu’s lips at the intrusion nonetheless,. You laughed at him meanly, fingers rubbing against his walls.

“What a fucking slut,” you taunt him. You begin to work your fingers inside of him, scissoring them, spreading out his walls and deliberately ignoring his prostate. “Look at how fucking desperate you are for me, Kim Mingyu. Fucking slut.”

“Yours,” he choked out, voice tight. Your fingers were smaller than his, yes, but fuck if they didn’t feel wonderful inside of him. His fingers were longer, yes, but yours seemed to contain heaven. The way you worked your fingers inside of his ass, the way you maneuvered them, tauntingly, teasingly, bullying him. It was like you knew his body, his mind, better than he did. Your hands were smaller than his, but fuck if he didn’t love, adore, how they made him feel.

You laughed again, twisting your fingers in his ass. “Yes, Mingyu. You’re my slut. My desperate slut of a boyfriend, my whore that can’t even keep his head out of the fucking gutter long enough for me to complete a workday.”

You withdrew your hands. He immediately whined in protest, brow furrowing. You threw him a look, reaching out and slapping his thick thigh sharply. “Mingyu. I said you have to be patient.”

“‘m sorry,” he murmured. He wasn’t, of course.

And you knew that. You ignored it however, focusing on Mingyu’s ass. You readjusted your hand, searching --

When your fingers brushed against Mingyu’s prostate he couldn’t help but let out a loud moan, back arching, toes curling. Your fingers pulled back, away from his prostate, only for you to press them back forcefully. Then, as if you were working at your clit, you began massaging your fingers against his prostate.

Mingyu’s mouth dropped open, a soundless moan escaping him. You pressed down on his hip to keep him down, your fingers gently rubbing his prostate all the while, eyes dark and watching his every twitch, every brush of his eyelashes against his cheek as he fought to keep his eyes open.

“So fucking beautiful like this, babyboy,” you murmured. And he was beautiful. His golden skin, long, muscled limbs. His large body shivering, hips canting down onto your fingers, this Adonis of a man so weak for your touch. “God, Gyu. You’re so gorgeous, so fucking -- a whore for my fingers, fucking yourself on them like a bitch.”

Then your hand was wrapping around Mingyu’s cock. You jerked him only twice before Mingyu was cumming on your hand, asshole so tight around your fingers that you couldn’t help but keep your fingers in.

“Good boy,” you praised him, your hand steadily pulling at his dick as he came, milking his cock. He could barely hear you over his moans, but still your words of praise seemed to stimulate his orgasm even more, cum thick and covering your hand and his stomach.

Once his body relaxed, his chest heaving, you removed your hand from his ass. He whined, high and sensitive, at the movement. But he knew what was coming next.

The head of your dick pressed against his ass, your other hand bracing against his knee once again. You waited until Mingyu was opening his eyes, waiting for him to make eye contact. “You good, Gyu? You okay?”

His nod had you slowly, gently, pressing the tip of your dick into his hole. His body clenched down on the dick, betraying him, halting the movement.

You cooed, free hand traveling. You smoothed it over his skin, your touch drawing goosebumps, massaging. “Gotta relax, Gyu. Relax for me, baby. Gotta relax so I can fuck you.”

Mingyu willed his body to relax, to melt into the bed. He wanted you to fuck him so badly, wanted your dick to bruise his prostate, wanted your hands to leave bruises on his body. He refused to let his body ruin this for him.

Once his body relaxed, and despite Mingyu’s whines for you to hurry, you guided the dick slowly inside of him. His ass clenched around it, tightening around your dick and the intrusion.

“Be a good boy,” you reminded him. You continued to work your dick inside of him until the balls were snugly against his ass, the long length completely buried. “How are you feeling, sweetheart? Doing okay?”

Mingyu groaned, lashes fluttering as he tried to remember how to speak. The dick was huge, filling his hole and the head pressing against his prostate. He felt so full and complete with your dick inside of him.

He fucking loved it.

“Good,” he mumbled, pressing his head back into the pillows, baring his thick throat, the veins of it prominent. “Feels good. Fucking -- feels good.”

You giggled, swooping down to press another kiss to his knee. Then you were moving against him, hand pressing his knee to his chest once more, the movement shifting your cock inside of him.

You fucked into him swiftly, setting a harsh, brutal pace remnant of how Mingyu would fuck you. You knew, after hundreds of times fucking Mingyu, how to fuck him. How to angle the dick in his ass to ensure it brushed against his prostate, how to slide it slowly out of his body, letting his walls drag against it, how to thrust it sharply back in.

Mingyu’s moans were loud and lewd, the noises like music. You fucked him until his cock was rising once again, and you continued to fuck him even as another orgasm exploded from his body.

“So beautiful,” you repeated, eyes stuck on his body, on the piece of heaven panting and whining, his hands twisting against your sheets. “Absolutely beautiful, Gyu. You okay to keep on going?”

At his nod you pulled back, withdrawing your dick from his ass. Mingyu gasped, eyes flying open, wide and betrayed.

“Don’t worry, you little slut,” you laughed, fond. You rose to your knees, leaving the dick to the side of his body. With both hands free you pushed back on both of his knees, which had naturally relaxed during his orgasm, pressing until both of his knees were to his chest, legs knocking against your shoulders.

You kept one hand on his shoulders, keeping his torso in place. Your other hand returned to the dick, and you pulled back from his body just enough to press the tip back against his hole. It was a bit awkward, but when his lashes began to flutter from your dick reentering, lips parting, you forgot about the awkwardness.

His long body, even as his back, seemed to engulf you. Mingyu’s arms wrapped around your shoulders, grabbing and pulling at you; his legs crossed at the ankles, feet knocking against your back. He was so big, the fucking picture of traditional masculinity.

And here he was: on his back, your dick in his ass.

Your pace was cruel this time, unforgiving. The slap of your balls against his ass filled the room, joined with his whines. You fucked into him, eyes trained on his face, drinking in every single movement.

“Taking it like a good little slut,” you praised him, “taking it like a good bitch, yeah? Is that what you want, baby? Want me to fuck you like a slut, like a whore?”

You were relentless in fucking him, refusing to let up. When tears appeared at the corner of his eyes you couldn’t help the thrill that shot through you, the satisfaction at seeing your boyfriend cry so prettily from your dick.

When he came for the third time, you held the dick in his ass despite how his hole clenched around it, trying to push the obtrusion back out. After what seemed like forever you were pressing your mouth to his, your hand tangling in his hair, tongue forcing its way into his mouth.

He was a wreck. His mouth could barely keep up with yours, cheeks glistening with his tears. His bangs stuck to his forehead, sweat clinging to his skin.

Mingyu grinned cutely, his hands settling on your shoulders. His thumbs dug into your skin, nails scratching lightly.

“How cute,” you cooed, cupping his cheek with one hand. You brushed his bangs back, traced the shell of his ear. “You look so cute ‘n happy, Gyu.”

“I am happy,” he agreed, smile never wavering. “Thank you, baby.”

You hummed, leaning down to press another kiss to his mouth. Then, with your lips still pressed against his, you couldn’t help but murmur. “Guess we aren’t finished, then.”

His eyes were wide when you pulled back, hands tight against your arms. “Wait -- what do you mean?”

The hand on your cock tightened, and slowly you grinded it in, focusing on his prostate. Mingyu’s body did a full shiver, eyes rolling to the back of his head, nails digging into your skin.

“If you’re able to still feel anything after I fuck you,” you explained, watching as his abdomen tightened in protest of the overstimulation, “then clearly I’m not fucking you well enough.”

#my writing #svthub #svt #seventeen #kim mingyu #kim mingyu x reader #kim mingyu oneshot #kim mingyu smut #kim minngyu fic #svt fic #svt x reader #svt smut #svt oneshot #seventeen x reader #seventeen fic #seventeen oneshot

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absentlyabbie · 2 months ago

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oh my god the "chicken tenders and fries at a fancy restaurant poll" has some wild responses (and more uptight voters than i'd have expected in this set of demographics.)

like, it's just not a big deal, literally unless someone is being a complaining dick who hates everything that isn't perfectly familiar and is vocal about it. and in that scenario, it's not the chicken tenders and fries that's the issue, it's the assholery and potential underlying prejudices.

like, nearly every reason i saw in those response was so... half-considered at best. there are some valid notions in there, but damn a lot of it is just so petty and/or thoughtless.

you've obviously got your various food and texture issues, but why do you need someone to be acceptably diagnosed for you to be chill? and god forbid someone have digestive concerns and be aiming for the least dangerous item on the menu.

"if it's a fancy restaurant that would only be on the kids menu and i'm judging you for that. order like a grown up." yeah we couldn't hang. i spent too many years in poverty and eating too little and it jacked my appetite so bad it took almost a decade to fix. and the fix relies on smaller portions. "adult portion" menu items can often be intimidatingly large, and not everything makes good leftovers. sometimes a kid-portion of something i know i can eat and eat in one sitting is gonna be the way to go.

"i'd get so mad if we were at a fancy aka expensive place and you wasted money on cheap food." if any menu item the fancy restaurant sells is cheap quality it's a shit restaurant anyways, and sure you can hit a drive thru for way cheaper, but if a fancy restaurant is turning out them tenders and fries? they ought to be way better than anything from a drive thru, and who doesn't love elevated classics. also, why is it a waste of money for both you and your companion to have a meal they will enjoy?

"i wouldn't be pissed or judgey but i would find them less attractive." okay, fair enough, what's attractive or not to any specific individual is what it is, and some preferences and etc clash enough to be entirely incompatible (especially if you're unwilling/unable to be accommodating). but if you're less attracted because you've labeled them unexciting or unadventurous over their food order, understand the tenders-and-fries orderer isn't the only inflexible one at the table. not gonna lie, i'd find somebody unwilling to accept and appreciate people having tastes different than theirs more of a turn off.

and more.

final takeaways tbh:

it's great to care less about other people making choices for themselves about what to eat, especially if you're not having to eat what they eat. it's just kinder and more open-minded. and none of your business when the food's not going in your mouth.

don't go to fancy restaurants with people you aren't already sure will have a good time there and enjoy the menu on offer. communicating beforehand and accounting for both people's interests, preferences, and limitations is just good manners.

#go to bed abbie

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doodle-pops · 2 years ago

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Tales of the Heart

Finarfin x mortal!reader

Request: Boyah!!! ♥️♥️ So happy requests re open!! ♥️ Could I please request Finarfin x human!reader? Perhaps after the final battle, he decides to see ME with his own eyes :') but he is a bit lost, the change it too much ! So the reader finds him and helps him thru his stay :") and sun fluffy romance!! 🤲♥️ — @noldorinpainter

A/N: When I say that I enjoyed writing this, I most absolutely did! This was my first official Finarfin request and it was so fluffy and sweet! Thank you for the request. I got to write a soft and flirty Finarfin and I was squealing. Thank you for increasing Finarfin content.

Warnings: none, nothing but absolute fluff and a flirty Finarfin shooting his shot

Words: 2.8k

Synopsis: As the War of Wrath came to an end, Finarfin decided to explore the beauty of Middle Earth. Instead, he discovered another form of beauty, becoming enthralled.

Part 1 | Part 2 |

The sound of streams rushing vigorously echoed to his right as his foot crossed a maple vine. Animals were scurrying across the forest floor the further he wandered into the forest. Though it was creepier than what he remembered during his childhood days in Valinor, it appeared much livelier now that the war was over, and the majority of the evil had fled.

The squawking and singing of birds overhead and in the canopy and buzzing of insects filled his head with safe sounds compared to the reoccurring sound of metal clashing. The melody was sweeter than the memories of the horrors of the great war. His said reason for escaping the confinements of the camp during nightfall left him to wander until the sun raised on him.

Anor’s rays were caught in his mess of golden ringlets which was designed into a messy bun with tresses still falling out—something to keep the humidity under control. Worrying about his troupes and the others was the least of his concerns; he wanted to explore the lands his father originated. The stories of fighting wild beasts—well that part was already explored—and travelling the distant lands, over the mountain and yonder filled his heart with exhilaration.

Making turns at all different angles and parts, following blinding trails and the forest beasts to wherever they may lead him, having a guide in this new land simply slipped the High King’s mind. His heart contained too much anticipation to learn what was around the river bend or above the canopy of the tallest tree. For a moment, he felt like his little boy when he was in his youthful years. Dragging and tugging at his arms to show him a mud puddle or spider forming its webs. Now he understood who and where Finrod's the enthusiasm resonated from.

Wandering for over twenty minutes, pushing himself deeper into the woods, the idea of handing his hand on the hilt of his sword was faint. All the evil was pushed back to the outer skirts of the land, surely he couldn’t have covered grounds that rapidly. However, he found his left hand sliding up his thigh to comfortably settle on the hilt of his sword. His grip was loose, easy to tighten in a flash if required, positive that the looming eerie sensation was no danger, but rather…uncommon. A concoction of excitement and curiosity overtook his body and urged him to walk forward, overstepping the squirrels that scurried about his feet.

What lay before him was an image he believed to only exist in a land like Araman, nowhere else had the capacity to withhold a beautiful sight. The freshness and holiness of the atmosphere were light and enchanting as if it was untouched by the creatures of the land, save for the animals. It was there his eyes landed on the stream his ears had the fortunate pleasure of listening to. The bubbles of happiness the running water echoed flooded through the roots of a maple tree whose roots formed an archway over the stream. Its roots were planted deeply, and its foundation was firm for the smaller creatures to gather in unity and live. Currently, its leaves were still green, signalling that autumn was far away from stealing its youth.

The exhilarating sensation was still bubbling in his chest when his foot landed in the enclosure and touched the grass. He felt like it was a crime to enter the area clad in his boots. Toes melting into the grass, he sighed blissfully at the warmth the earth provided. Middle Earth isn’t as terrible as I believed it to be after all! At this point, the dangers that could present themselves during this moment were long forgotten as his eyes took in the serenity the land offered.

Laughter had bubbled up his throat and slipped past his lips when a pair of blue jay swooped down from their nest and fluttered around him, singing their morning song. Anor’s rays were still scattered throughout the trees, yet to peak the canopy. Lifting his hand for the birds to land as he assumed it was their intention, the sound of another bird breaks his concentration.

“They seem to like you, well, of course, they would. You’re an elf, all animals tend to flock to your kind with ease.” You were sitting on the opposite side of the maple tree, hidden from his eyes, but audible to his ears. They cocked in the direction your voice echoed and his head automatically craned to view the owner of the voice with curious eyes.

The birds perched on his arm were long forgotten. You had taken the stoplight and captured his attention. Were you a fellow elf or perhaps half-elven as he had come to learn existed. He had met the Edains…who were highly indifferent to his kind. Many qualities were noticeable to differentiate elves from men, so surely, you were on the elven side. But…of course, they would. You’re an elf, an elf wouldn’t make such a statement. You were mortal.

“…Would you be so kind as to reveal yourself, that way I can know who I am about to host a conversation with?” He attempted to hide his commanding nature and royal assertiveness, not wanting to scare you or propose the assumption that you were being forced. Though, he wanted to be a bit commanding, desperate to meet the face of this cheerful voice.

The sound of a book shutting, and clothes crumpling resonated behind the tree and prompted him to shuffle his bare feet across the grass the view you before you could present yourself. What, or as a matter of fact, who he saw, surprised him. Mortals weren’t known for their exquisite form of beauty, but for certain, you surely must have been. The way your hair moved with you as you arose, swishing and curling with your body and wind, was enthralling. Your much smaller figure still held grace and agility that was comparable to the elves. Even your voice reflected the beauty that the elves were known for displaying. Mortal or not, there had to be a trace of elven blood somewhere.

Finarfin gawked, unconsciously, while you ushered yourself off the ground and encircled the tree to prevent stepping over the larger and more complicated roots. More to avoid embarrassment before an otherworldly creature. The corners of his lips were upturned, and his eyes softened as you bounded over to his taller figure without an ounce of fear. That brought some sense of relief to his erratic heart.

“Greetings My Lord, may a star shine upon our meeting.” You greeted him formally with the extension of your hand from your heart to him. His eyes widened unexpectedly and his lips parted to inhale. While the High King received the greeting from the other Edains upon meeting them for their war meetings, there was something different about yours. He couldn’t place his finger on it, but it provided some volume of pleasure.

Being in a distant land for what was considered a few years, his interest in learning the mortal tongue fluctuated due to their ability to communicate in his. While he knew their tongue, the memories of the language were hidden away at the back of his mind. Finarfin’s turmoil began the longer he stood there gawking at you, blue jays already flown away and hand limp at his side, dying to respond. For a moment, he forgot all knowledge of the proper sequence of hosting a conversation, but that was not the reason for his hindrance.

His heart thumped like a hummingbird as warmth filled his skin. He knew it was not the sun, it was still at its 8 o’clock angle. The increase of air in his lungs, the rush of blood flowing under his skin, the lightness of his body, the chorus his fёa sang, Finarfin knew exactly what it meant. It was the last thing on his mind he would ever expect to re-experience again, let alone, here in a foreign land. Loneliness was forgotten and had never felt so foreign and unnerving now that he stood face-to-face in your presence.

What would the Valar say if he offered to return home with you? Did you even feel what he felt?

“Apologies for my…silence…uhh. Might I know your name?” He quickly asked to prevent you from being swayed by his lack of response. When was the last time I had ever attempted to swoon someone? Ah yes, since then…

The memory wasn’t merry to remember. It stung him twice.

“Y/N, My Lord! My name is Y/N,” you exclaimed. “Might I have to honour of knowing yours?”

A name so unusual and unheard off was the epitome of a rare jewel; his mind could never comprehend or imagine such a beauty. Though, he could see the way you peered up at his majestic figure, enthralled the moment you were caught by his welcoming smile and softened electric blue eyes. Knowing the effect of his beauty on others became normality, but when it was you who was affected, his composure was slowly chipping away behind the sole of his feet. Being bare feet on the grass was probably a terrible idea, any moment he could lose his barring and fall harder.

“Arafinwe, my dear,” he politely answered, struggling to keep his the frequency of his voice stable. The hand that once gripped the hilt of his sword reached out and lifted your dainty fingers, over your head, to meet his soft lips (he hoped they were soft enough) and enthral you more.

His ears picked up the faint gasp and his fingers detected the skip in your pulse at the contact. He still had it in him to place his effective charming spell over you.

“Y-Your name…it is unusual to my ears. Very different from the Sindar and the Noldor. Are you perhaps a Moriquendi?” Your question would have offended another whose natural instincts were to shun the rejected race and prideful boost of theirs, but Finarfin knew there were no negative intents behind your curiosity. Like any charmed person, he would enlighten you.

“No, my dear. Noldorin I am, and from across the sea, I came to like those you know. However, my name remains unchanged and dwells in the language of the High Elves, Quenya,” he spoke. A voice like honey, rich and heavy, luring you in with positive intentions to savour more. A taste unlike any other you had ever sampled. Your folks told tales of the Edain who fell for the elf-maiden, fairest of all them all in face and voice, and you wanted to protest against that saying. He was the fairest of them all. Never had a voice like his make butterflies erupt.

“Ah, well that would explain your…accent, it is different from those who speak my tongue,” you stated.

Humming in a sing-song manner, he beamed. “Indeed it is. I have not developed the proper speech technique? …no, forgive me, phonetics of your language. I recently arrived.” He was still holding your hand in his, knowing that he needed to return it, but refusing to part from your touch. Finarfin was like a moth drawn to a flame.

“Then that means you are the elves who came to assist us in battle?! It is you, along with the King, from across the sea who won us the war and brought peace to our land?!”

“The stories have already spread? It has only been a month since the war ended,” he laughed enthusiastically and was intrigued to learn what you might have heard about him. “What have they said about the King?”

“Oh!” you exclaimed at the sudden pique in his interest. “Well, they said that it was he who won the war and defeated the great Dark Lord, driving him and his foul creatures from the land. He fought valiantly and fiercely, with the heart and strength of a lion.”

His heart fluttered at the impression the folks had on him, yet, he wanted to know what you thought of him.

Dropping his hand while maintaining his grip around your fragile fingers as he had come to understand about the Edain. Such delicate creatures you were, much need of care and protection would be required.

“And…what do you think of the King?” he peered, desperate to flutter his heart at your opinion of him. A start to understanding how you saw him through your eyes. A start to rekindle the fire in his heart.

“Well, My Lord…” you pondered. “I cannot say what I think of him for I have never met nor seen him. But I can say that he must be kind, strong and fierce to have led his troupes into battle and win.”

The smile on his face grew from your modesty. You were remarkably wonderful in the short moment he grew to know you. His ego was flaring up at the praises you threw innocently at him. Anyone else who praised him, and it would have been common knowledge from then, but you made a repetitive compliment sound like a prize. What other words could he successfully pry from your honeyed lips?

Turning his head up to the sky, the sun had already peaked and cast its noonday shadows. When did time fly this quickly? Did you cast and enchanting spell upon me? I surely do not mind. His troupes would be out searching for him, an interruption he refused to accept. If he stayed here, they would find him in a matter of hours, but of course, there were ways to evade unwanted interruptions.

“And what if I revealed to you that I am the Noldóran, the King, you speak of, will you continue to keep me company?” he teased. It was long since he felt the need to tease anyone. Not even his nephews he reunited with and he used to playfully tease as children could he attempt to taunt.

His heart was yearning for company…companionship, and you were giving him a sense of hope. Yet to truly understand and grasp the untold truth of the Edains, or perhaps like every other elf before him who did, he ignored it to fill the empty gap in his heart. When the time was right, what pain and suffering he had to experience, he would deal with it as such.

Appalled by his boldness, you stuttered, stunned, “T-The King? You are the King, Arafinwe…your Majesty? Why would you be out here conversing with me and not in the safety of your people?”

Chuckling while lifting his other hand to encompass the one holding yours, he held it between you both. Despite the great height difference between you two, looking down lacked discomfort. There was more mirth and dynamism the longer he locked his gaze with yours. He could see the way your cheeks became swollen and lifted to present your bashfulness and enthrallment to him. It was endearing to learn that he still had the effects he once possessed.

“The beauty of the land was calling to me, and I could not resist. So I came looking, and I was entranced when I discovered that it was you, beckoning to me,” he whispered delicately as though he was citing a soliloquy. “I do not wish to part from you so soon, I still have much to learn, and your company would be splendid.”

Falling speechless at his poetry, none which you ever heard from the elves, dwarves and men have ever sounded as sophisticated and eloquent as his. He was purposefully melting your insides a caramel. Looking up at his marvellously heightened figure, he appeared taller than most of the elves you witnessed. His aura was radiant and compelling.

“My King…surely you do not mean that. I am mortal and you, an elf. It is unlikely between us.”

“If it is unlikely, then why is my heart racing this instant as we speak?” His heart sped up and then clenched at the partial rejection. Never before had Finarfin felt the dire urge to act so direct. Affairs of the heart were always a dangerous situation to be caught in, and this was different from any he had experienced. “But, if that is what you wish, then I would respectfully understand and part ways, but if not, I will pursue no matter what they say.” But my heart would ache and cry for you.

Even you felt a pang in your heart at his sullen state of dejection. “…It is not every day you meet an elf who wishes to fancy you. Mayhaps we become a successful story to the others before us?” you breathed. “So how might I, a mortal, keep His Majesty company if he wishes it?”

“Ay, we can indeed,” he replied with little to no knowledge of the tragedies that couples like him and you faced, but eager was his heart and fëa to love again. He would put his affections and courage to the test to love you. “Arafinwe, my dear. And a tour of the area would be pleasing; that way I can find you easily when I wish to reunite with you again,” he smirked.

Shyly nodding and biting your lip, you hid your growing flustered state and mumbled, “Then I would be honoured to give you a tour to meet again…soon, Arafinwe.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @eunoiaastralwings @noldorinpainter @ranhanabi777 @spidergirla5 @lilmelily @someoneinthestars @mysticmoomin @aconstructofamind @singleteapot @the-phantom-of-arda @rain-on-my-umbrella @wandererindreams @asianbutnotjapanese @ilu-stripes @justellie17 @justjane @silverose365 @bunson-burner

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horizon-verizon · 10 months ago

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Leaks saying that Rhaenyra send Elinda to hang up posters in King’s Landing calling for anyone who dares to try to claim a dragon (I think it’s true, in the preview for episode 7, there a soldier tearing a poster down) and WHY TF is she recruiting from King’s Landing when plenty if not more than dragonseeds reside in Dragonstone and Driftmark ?? At least in F&B, the dragonseeds were from the area and you could assume as Rhaenyra had been ruling over them for 10 years there was a greater allegiance to her. She’s not even looking for people who have Targaryen/Valyrian blood anymore, just anyone who’s willing to take the risk. Handing over the biggest dragons to complete nobodies with no affiliation at all to her is stupid. Doubly so because what’s to say Aemond or Larys doesn’t get word and makes a deal offering much more if they claim a dragon and flip sides, and Aemond has shut down all exits. Rhaenyra already makes plenty of foolish mistakes during the war, why do they keep adding/creating more ?

It's pretty strange, considering peasants largely aren't literate in ASoIaF/Westeros.

Also, having the dragonseeds ALL come from or reside in either Driftmark or Dragonstone makes much more sense with this particular fact bc of what you say about there being a history of Driftmark/Dragonstone special allegiance to the Targs and other Valyrian families ("The Red Dragon and the Gold"):

Said allegiance came from two things interacting:

the long history of the Targs/Velaryons/etc ruling those islands for generations BEFORE the Conquest

Targs sexing up locals with the FM custom of right of first night that established the idea that a lord "bestows" a child onto a peasant family/woman (no this doesn't mean every single Targ-local coupling was bonafide rape...but the power dynamics went crazy and are MORE questionable with that FM "tradition")

This is esp good:

Doubly so because what’s to say Aemond or Larys doesn’t get word and makes a deal offering much more if they claim a dragon and flip sides, and Aemond has shut down all exits. Rhaenyra already makes plenty of foolish mistakes during the war, why do they keep adding/creating more

So it's either going to these:

those KL future dragonseeds will have to sneak out using some seriously dubious means totally unaffliiated or given by Rhaenyra-Mysaria

they will have means of getting out thru Mysaria-Rhaenyra's arrangements, which themselves need to be explained: how long do the agents stay and hide themselves in KL and how did they do it? Wa sit through Mysaria's connections, Daemon's, or is Elinda magically rowing to Kl again? Who and how does she know those she comes to contact with? No Dyana doesn't make sense bc we have seen no interaction b/t Rhaenyra and Dyana, and Dyana was a low-tier servant not a lady-in-waiting. So yeah, you need to have already shown (S1) how Rhaenyra/Elinda and Dyana got as aquainted as to be able to have such communications and established some amount of trust even with Aegon having raped Dyana.

However, I don't think the Red Keep has dragon eggs. that appears to be just a Dragonstone thing--which makes sense bc that is the original home with all the necessary accommodations for housing, raising, and feeding dragons/eggs made over GENERATIONS of Targ ancestors. The castle of Dragonstone (not the island), I think, is literally built into/from a volcano. The Dragonkeep of KL can't match that, is smaller. So Aemond and the rest of the greens cannot make similar promises or invitations to KLers.

Either way, yeah, the letting absolutely anyone regardless of how loyal you think they will be to you rise a dragon bc you want to make sure that the notion of Targ blood-necessary for dragons is just propaganda (implying malicious lies of slander) also doesn't make sense bc:

Daenerys Stormborn literally woke up dragons using her own self/blood. Only she could have done what she did...it's a pretty large and thematic story element to ASoIaF, her doing that. Blood & familial connection to other dragonriders may not be the end all be all (Quentyn Martell) but it is a PREREQUISITE and absolutely matters, otherwise.

throughout detailed recorded history the Targs--since at least Jaehaerys I--we have seen how allegiance or making sure that the exclusivity of dragonriding is maintained is another important element...Jaehaerys himself says that it is necessary to keep dragonriding exclusive is not just for Targ power but bec it is really bad to have multiple competing rival dragonriding groups and esp in the same space...Old Valyria is used as reference. The whole anxiety about the Two Betrayers and later arrests of the dragonseeds partially come from this fear.

So, yeah, the writers are sacrificing or just plain ignorant of the lore bc they have some weird jealousy towards this dragonriding family or want to feel as if they have some higher understanding of politics and history:

Ultimately, Condal’s own passion for Martin’s writing outweighed any doubt he had about his own. “I’m trying to make the type of show I would enjoy as a fan, which I am. And while I realize my ideal fan show will be different from someone else’s, I still think that it’s a good true north heading on my compass. Actually, I think that’s why HBO hired me in the first place.”

“I was working in a corporate environment and collaborating with other creatives,” Condal says. “Copywriters work closely with art directors responsible for visuals and layout, and there’s a similarity there to screenwriters working with directors responsible for turning your very cerebral ideas into concrete images. I also learned to compromise, adapting your writing to clients who aren’t always going to love your brilliant, avant-garde choices. That’s the talent-studio relationship, right there. Working on a deadline, on a budget, going into a room to give your presentation, and having someone on the other end of the table buy or not buy them — this stuff is relevant in any industry, Hollywood or not. Coming from a creative but also very corporate environment, I was able to navigate challenges that some of my colleagues with filmmaking and art history degrees maybe weren’t prepped for.”

#asoiaf asks to me #asoiaf fav posts #the sowing #the red sowing #hotd leaks #hotd writing #hotd characterization #book vs tv comparisons #westerosi bastards #the dragonseeds #westerosi history #right of first night #hotd #asoiaf #hotd critical

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isa-ah · 9 months ago

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sure why not. nightmare rankings with context lets go

the first one ive had by far the most times.

the second was the most disorienting thing ive ever experienced.

the third the most emotionally devastating.

and the fourth the most physically reactive ive ever been to a dream.

the short of it: my mom got knocked up at 15 so i was raised by my grandparents exclusively. my grandma had breast cancer and my grandfather had really bad diabetes so i was raised to be a caregiver. i dropped out of school at 13 to be home fulltime and then a few weeks before my 18th my grandma died and a few weeks after my 18th my grandpa died.

we lived in a tiny rotting house, holes in the walls and ceiling that would let in snakes, bugs and wolf spiders, with no heating or cooling way out in the sticks. like 45 minutes outside of the nearest town which had 1 stoplight. we were living off of a single disability check every month which meant we only got to grocery shop once a month and my grandma had to give up on chemo after her cancer spread all over her body.

my grandfathers family has a history of suicide so ig it wouldnt surprise anyone to know he wanted to die before my grandma and tried to achieve this thru doing no physical therapy, eating like shit, & staunchly refusing to Ever go to the doctors or hospital. he would have huge outbursts when it was just the two of us about how hes dying too and no one cares and no one loves him and he wants to die. my grandma would likewise have outbursts where shed lock herself in the bathroom right across from my bedroom and wail that she was ugly now and no one loved her and she was dying.

as their caregiver i took a LOT of personal responsibility in trying to keep them alive. i would sleep in 30 minute intervals and wake up at the slightest noise in the house. they would stumble or fall and id have to scoop them up despite being smaller than either of them. bc my diet consisted almost completely of food i couldnt digest (that kept me in severe agony and lead to an insane nutritional deficit) i was going through one to two 32 packs of soda a week to fuel myself.

we would attempt to hire nurses but as they both got treatment in richmond almost 3 hours away the nurses would only ever come once or twice before quitting. the last one we ever had taught me how to access my grandmas port, clean it, administer the medication, and then properly close it again.

my grandma died around 4am the day we were planning to go see her. my grandfather was in the hospital at the time so we went to tell him as a family, to his face, but everyone else left the instant he started crying so i had to crawl into his hospital bed and hold him while he wailed into my neck. it was visceral.

when he came home, he really did his best though. he went to all of his doctors appointments, changed his whole diet & started doing physical therapy every day. we decided we would get through this together. we would be unstoppable. we could make it. my grandmother died in november, i turned 18 in december, and so as we hedged on new years we decided we could figure this out in the coming clean slate. we would be okay.

until i went out 4am new years morning and found him sweaty and despondent. i made a series of phonecalls promising all the while he would be okay and holding his hand as he went thru several seizures. finally, despite the emergency squads best attempts, he died right there in our living room. right in front of me, my new future was gone.

now, because i had turned 18, no one in my family was obligated to do anything with me after that. they left me in that house for months, alone, in the dead of winter with no heating or cable or anything to keep me sane.

our house had been set up so that i, the caregiver, could check on my grandparents from my bedroom door. it was muscle memory. i step out to use the bathroom across the hall and i glance left (my grandmas hospital bed) and then i glance right (my grandfathers recliner). and it didnt stop just because they were dead and i was alone.

occasionally someone would drop off pity groceries but that was it. i had no job, no license, no prospects. i was wracked with grief and guilt. this was my fault. i was their caregiver. i should have done better. i should have been better. i should have reacted faster. i should have advocated more. (i should have been an adult).

as you can imagine, those elapsing months were BAD. i think i spent most of it asleep. without cable, i had no one i could listen to speak to fill the silence of our house so i put on the first two hobbit movies- i had them on dvd- with my xbox and i played them. and played them. and played them. the entire time. i know both of them verbatim.

this is where the first nightmare were going to talk about comes in.

i would wander, late at night, out of my dark bedroom to the living room. because our house was so small, the living room was also the dining room, and had both the front and back doors in it. my grandpas tv would be on, shining a blinding blue white light into the living room that would be the only light.

our back door was a wall of glass on old sliding tracks. i would run to it, to the featureless black void beyond it, and lock it. and then i would hear the front door begin to creak open and bolt across the living room to slam the door shut and lock it too.

behind me, the back door would slide ajar.

and then again, the front door.

the locks were futile, they didnt work, and while i never saw what was outside i knew it wanted in and i knew it was bad.

isolated, that nightmare isnt anything really. its not very memorable, and from an outside perspective, its not very scary. it felt like it to me though, alone out there like that, alone in all the world and wracked with guilt and fear. it was immense to me then.

no.. beyond that, what makes that nightmare unique, is that i had it again. and again. and again. and every single time i fell asleep for the next 3 years. it didnt matter if it was one of my 30 minute overnight shift naps (because those didnt just go away when my grandparents died, that was hard wired from doing it my entire life), if it was broad daylight and i was napping in the passengers seat of a car, or if id just briefly dozed off at the keyboard.

every single time i fell asleep, i would have the same nightmare.

it would change marginally, in that sometimes my grandparents (one or both) would be sat in front of the tv. they both wore glasses so their eyes were entirely obscured by the bright white reflection of the flickering tv, and their skin would be slate blue-grey. entirely unreactive to me, or anything i said or did. sometimes id know they were dead, and others id beg them to see me. it never made a difference.

after months of being in that house, my aunt decided because shes a saint, she would take me in. but because i was 18 i was a legal adult and she had no responsibility to make sure i was okay or seen to. in the depths of manic depression, i had no idea which way was up, but she truly could not have cared less.

i lived there for two years, and while my cousins were a salve on my loneliness, their mother was horrific to me. she gaslit me so consistently, so entirely, that i would believe anything she told me. id spend five hours a day doing a list of chores shed given me, then shed come home and reveal a trap shed lain to catch me slacking off and tell me i was a useless lying piece of shit and needed to stop bullshitting that i had done anything and actually do it. so i would agree, and spend another 5 hours cleaning again. every single day i had off.

as you can imagine, i started lying about my work schedule and found excuses to spend hours upon hours at the local target, just milling around waiting until it was late enough to go home and go to bed.

it hit a head when she put her hands on my neck and demanded i thank her for being so gracious, tell her i love her, and then hug her. i called my mom after that (useless woman that she is) and begged for her to come get me.

here, at my moms house, is where the next nightmare comes into play.

as you can imagine, after two years of having the same nightmare every time i shut my eyes, i was getting wary. i didnt WANT to sleep anymore. i didnt want to keep having that dream. so armed with 2 brothers on different sleep schedules, i would waste as much time as i possibly could staying awake.

except, did you know sleep deprivation just makes nightmares worse? and avoiding your problems doesnt actually fix anything?

after months of this, i finally collapsed exhausted into bed, and experienced a new nightmare entirely.

i woke up, from my brothers bed where id fallen asleep, and wandered out into the house. it was still daylight, just like when id laid down, and i heard my mom call and ask me to do the dishes. sure. easy enough.

except, as i stand there at her sink washing the dishes, i begin to experience this creeping unease. this unreality, this shift on its axis that makes me nauseous and scared. and i call for my mom, "somethings wrong! mom! somethings wrong please come here! mom!"

to my horror, the spoon in my hands begins to melt and bend at my every touch and i stumble back from the sink. in horror, my knees give out, and i sink to the kitchen floor screaming for help, please please help me. somethings wrong with me please help me.

in a jolt, i wake up. im on the couch and its dusk out. i slept later than i meant to- way later. i check the time and its the tail end of when i was scheduled to work today. i panic, jumping to my feet and hollering at the family around me watching tv- "i work today! i was supposed to be at work! you guys know that, why didnt you wake me up!" my panic and frustration rose as i was entirely ignored and in a raw screaming instant, i jolted myself awake.

i was sitting in my brothers bed. it was daylight out, just like when i fell asleep. exhausted, but relieved the nightmares were over, i sat there with my feet planted on the floor trying to put them into words. my mom, sensing my unease, knocked on the doorframe and came to sit beside me.

"have you packed?" packed? for what? "youre going to be late." late? "youll miss the bus." what bus?

"to go visit grandma."

wait.. what? no thats- what?

"you need to pack, or youll miss the bus to go visit grandma."

thats not right. shes dead. mom- mom what are you saying? theres no- thats not-

as my unreality and fear bubble up bright in my chest, i heave myself off of the bed, and in an instant i jolt awake. laying in my brothers bed. it was daylight out, just like when i fell asleep.

i lay there, silent, still, panting. am i awake? am i awake now? what the fuck is happening to me?

slowly, i sit up on my elbows, just barely obscured by the headboard i notice something. a leathery spider egg. and as im realizing what it is, it bursts, and ten thousand tiny spiders come spilling out of it. terrified, for some idiotic reason my first response is to grab for my phone and whip out my camera. but as i bring it up, the spiders vanish. and its just me, alone in the room again.

and i realize with a horrible bottoming out that i dont know if im awake or not.

that feeling didnt go away for weeks.

id woken up drunk off of the nightmares and hallucinated the spiders- but i had been awake that time, really. it was difficult to convince myself of that, though, and the unreality just waiting to rip me up and into another false awakening plagued me for ages thereafter.

it was a really good way to make me stop depriving myself of sleep though lol ive never gotten that bad again since.

time moves on, and so do i. my mom kicked me out of my brothers room and made me sleep on a mattress in their filthy kitchen between the litter boxes and under the ants favorite window, which was my cue to leave. i moved cross country with my then-boyfriend and finally, finally, began to heal.

these last two are far more recent. one was from last year, and the other just a few nights ago.

i dreamt i was in my childhood home. my grandma had just died and it was me and my grandfather, lit only by the cool grey of an overcast sky outside. i was in the kitchen, asking what he wanted for dinner, when he began to stagger in the living room. i whipped around the corner to catch him, and before my very eyes his skin began to bruise.

theres a way, when a person dies, that the blood begins to settle wherever their skin meets the ground. dark ugly red-purple bruises, veins visible, mottled skin.

before my eyes, he was beginning to look just like he had that morning when the hospital finally let us see his body. i asked him what was wrong and he said he just needs to use the bathroom. he just needs to get to the toilet. so i walked him down the hall and into the bathroom and once the door was firmly locked between us, he told me,

"i did something i shouldnt have. those poisonous mushrooms- i ate them. im going to die."

and i realized in that moment that his insides were being liquified by the things. that his "need" to use the toilet was about to be a complete and utter disembowelment.

instantly, i reacted, trying to throw the door open with my shoulder, twisting the knob, begging him to open it. please please please. how could you do this. how could you do this to me. this isnt fair. please. we can fix it. please please we can fix it let me in.

please at least let me cook you dinner first. please.

please dont leave me.

i screamed myself hoarse and cried so hard i woke myself up. ive never had a dream make me cry so hard, for so long. it sat on my shoulders for weeks, weighing me down, putting me on a hairpin trigger for tears i hadnt been on in years. it felt like grief, raw and new, all over again.

and finally, this last one. it is in the ranking for the most physically id ever been effected by a dream. good god.

i was perched on the edge of a chair in a hospital room, staring at my grandmothers corpse. she was laid back, slanted somewhat to the side. bald, skinny, purple. i sat. and i stared.

the window over her head was pitch black, slate just like the old nightmares, and i was only ever vaguely aware of it. in a blink- literally- she was up. sat up, smiling, chubby with her wig on and her glasses perched on her head. she had done her makeup and the window behind her was lit up in the cool greys of dawn.

"well dont look at me like that- i just got here!" and with a laugh she gestured me over.

i threw my head back and called for a nurse, but when i turned back, already lifting myself out of my seat to run to her, she was again bald and slumped and darkness prevailed.

the nurse came through and sucked her teeth. "shes still dead, darlin'. i dont know what you want me to do about it." and with a sneer, she was gone again.

my eyes searched my grandmothers face, and after a few seconds of held breath, her eyelids began to roll and her lashes fluttered open. and again, she smiled at me and beckoned me closer.

collapsed onto her, exclaiming i missed you i missed you i love you. and she laughed and said the same. she gave me a kiss, then gestured me in for a hug and of course i complied. i missed her more than life and here she was, she was back, of course of course id hug her.

but as my arms scooped beneath her armpits to lift her into me, the face against my throat went cold, and hard, and the arm i had propped up swung stiff with rigor mortis and bounced off of me.

when i say that nightmare left me in a daze, im not sure how else id even put it. i was shaking head to toe, on the verge of vomiting, vision tunneling and blurring continually as i stumbled through the house. it was early- around 5am when i woke up- so i was alone. i sat down at the kitchen table and lost an hour to it.

around 6 i woke my husband up in much the same state, tear drenched and trembling, curling into myself to stay standing, and by seven he had managed to bring me back down to earth. ive never had a physical reaction like that at all, nevermind so long, and so severe. it was fcking awful.

#i did NOT reread this so if its insane and full of typos sorryyyy #i just need to talk about it or ill die i guess #now that ive wasted an hour i should really make some breakfast and start work huh

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fresne999 · 1 year ago

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For the Story is Long and Takes a Long Time

Every now and then I see a post float across my dash about younger folks (my lawn is a field of local plants and and drip watered, please enjoy) wanting an algorithm for AO3 or only wanting longer fic, or blah, blah. Not sure how much of that is pervasive and not folks grumping at the sky.

But this is the grumping at the sky site, so whatever.

Ever wondered what the labor involved in a long fic looks like? Wonder no longer, here's a line graph.

This represents the kind of sustained labor required to finish a maybe (I'm not done yet) 350k work.

It's not a single story. It's 18 stories from 18 POV that braid around similar (but not identical because people observe different things) events. It's OFMD modern AU.

Nothing is posted. I don't post unfinished stories. I learn too much while I write for that to ever work for me. Even if I have an outline.

Now you may wonder, how did I come up with graph? Probably not, but I'm going to explain anyway.

After working on and off on the project (the reason it doesn't start at zero) I decided to apply some techniques I use for project management. What I'm about to describe can be used for any type of complicated project.

Step 1

-Break the "project" down into milestones. 18 stories. I've also broken it down into 4 phases per story: 1) Write draft 1, 2) Edit, 3) Have you heard of 2nd edit? 4) Hopefully we're at Spag edit.

Step 2 -

Assign points to every milestone.

I use this sequence of #s*: 0, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34. Want to sound fancy. That's a Fibonacci Sequence. Now you know.

Using this numbering sequence keeps me from getting bogged down trying to decide if a big story is say 8 or 9 points if I were using a 1-10 sequence

The principle behind this kind of point assignment goes something like this. It's hard to look at Stede and know how tall he/the actor is. But if you look at Stede and Izzy standing together, I roughly know who is taller.

A - Or in this case, I guess the Stede story will be longer than Izzy's story. So Stede= 34, and Izzy=21.

B - Break down the phases of writing and assign them points.

3 Start writing. At the end of one week, figure out my points completed. Should be a % of the total possible points for that milestone/phase. My method involves a lot of formulas based on 20 years of project mangagement experience. You should just guess. Divide by 7. That's the "build" rate.

Divide the total number of points for the project by the build rate, that's the # of days it will probably take. That seem to long, establish an arbitrary date to finish and divide the number of points by that number of days and that's you're "Management Assigned an Arbitrary Date and I don't know if we can finish, but let's try" rate.

4 Keep writing and editing. Track as you go. Having a much smaller goal each day than "Finish it" to reach each day makes it easier to do. It's also easier than an arbitrary # of words a day, which, shrug, we're not Dickens. We're paid by the kudo, not the word.

Know how I know? I've been working on and off on this for 2 years. Here's what that (roughly) looks based on knowing how long I spent getting 4 of the stories thru writing and first edit by the time I got to March of this year. I file creation to last revision date, but not including the long periods in between writing, and knowing several times I had to remove huge amounts of writing. So, points went away. Sad sound.

That looks like this.

Brought to you by, I need to finish more points today, but am tired.

#ofmd #ofmd fanfic #fanfic #writing techniques #project mangement

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swaglet · 2 months ago

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I don’t know if ferrets work the same as dogs, but my family used to raise foster puppies and whenever you were playing with them and they big too hard, you made a yelping sound, turned around, and stopped playing with them for a while. This generally taught them how much bite was too much.

this usually works for ferrets, especially because they're almost always raised with their siblings before they're able to be adopted, but unfortunately it doesn't work for ferrets who are deaf and/or have waardenburg syndrome cos they can't hear their siblings (or us) so they can't learn about those social cues, or being a hearing waardy stops them from responding to the cues in the behaviorally correct way. jellybean was the same way when she was a baby which is why we got her, but she was considerably smaller than taz is and can barely fit a finger in her mouth whereas he can grab half of your entire hand, so even when she really went crazy jellybean still hurt way less. we managed to get her to understand basic sign language like NO and NO BITE and we also communicate with her thru gentle taps on her butt when she's biting too hard, because she never went for fingers lol. she never needed a time out box, she caught on to the hand signs and taps pretty quickly and learned that they meant "you bit us too hard, we are going to disengage from play now and go onto the bed or chair where you can't reach us for 2 minutes" and she got over it very quickly once we figured out a system

however taz is significantly more of a challenge.... his bites aren't very predictable so we're stuck having to be more cautious around him than we'd like to be (we don't want to make him nervous or give him the impression we don't trust him so that we can bond with him faster), so we're kind of stuck having a land shark attack our fingers for the next few weeks while we're playing with him it seems. boyfriend made a discovery earlier this morning; taz WILL bite other parts of your body that aren't hands or feet if you ignore him while he's trying to interact with you, so it does seem to be a bite related to play and attention, and he just has absolutely no idea that he's biting that hard. which is a solid step in the right direction to figure out how to work with him. when he was biting last night, he would come back for more after we got him to let go, but he was making dooking sounds (happy/play noises) so i genuinely believe he thinks it's a game and can't tell we're in pain and trying to get him off. we can't react like our other ferrets do (kicking, rolling away, shifting our skin to get him to release and wriggle away) when he grabs onto them and our skin is nowhere near as thick as theirs is so we are at his mercy. i actually am typing this ask from the walmart parking lot hanging out in my car; i just got him a little crate that will function as a time out box to see if that makes any progress. if it's a play bite and he just doesn't understand he's biting too hard because he can't hear us and can't understand social cues, the time out box will help. we would do what we did with jellybean but he's tall enough that he can get onto any elevated surface that we can get onto LOL so if he wants attention he is going to GET IT lol. believe it or not, way back in the day, my sweet sweet angel boy slinky had a time out box. he never drew blood, but he definitely liked to bite and he was my first ferret and i didn't like the idea of scruffing him or flicking his nose so time out box was my solution. it made him into my little angel baby so i stand by the time out box method

thank you nonnie for the advice i will be sure to keep everybody updated with his progress !!

#>#askbox

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zachsgamejournal · 2 months ago

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PLAYING: Death Stranding

I'm having more fun now. Bikes really help. Sometimes I feel bored, but I also feel compelled to deliver and build!

I was a bit harsh last time. But that was first impressions. It was so hard for me to get into the game that there were nights that I just stared at the TV, wondering if I even felt like turning it on. I don't have that hesitation anymore.

Before leaving the "starting area", they grant you access to a bike. I'm not wholly convinced it's faster than running but it's nice to have. Also, being able to build bridges made traversal easier. I went from "how quickly can I beat this" to "I could play this for weeks" in a single night. But since I couldn't build bikes, I was scared of losing it...which led to a really frustrating scenario...

The final delivery point is over a pretty steep mountain. But I thought, maybe the bike can handle it. Whoo it was rough. The path was steep and filled with rocks. Also there were BTs popping up everywhere. A black circle would appear on the ground, about 20-30 ft in diameter. And these ppl covered in black good would come out of the ground like aqua-zombies and try to drag me down. Sometimes they made me drop all my stuff.

So I'd struggle to get outside the circle, wait for the circle to disappear, pick up all my stuff, hop on my bike, and run into another BT 10 yards later and start it the process all again.

I did not enjoy it.

Once at port City I was forced into a boss fight with a black goo covered whale that had a squid face. Is this a prequel to Prometheus? To defeat the whale I had to throw blood grenades at it. I wasn't sure how they worked. I tried using them on a BT and was impressed with the results. Now that I've fumbled my way thru BTs, I'm less scared of them.

I delivered something back over the mountain and found a path cleared. I still had BT trouble but curious where the path came from. Was it always there? I know walking along routes creates a dirt path, presumably based on where other players walk too. Maybe it also clears rocks out of the way?

So now I'm starting to feel more comfortable with the game, and I have a bike. When I was told to advance the story i needed to cross a lake, I was worried about crazier challenges after I just figured out how to handle the starting area.

But I went for it and just got a cut scene.

The new area, while larger than the starting area, seems like a better starting area to me. There are no mountain ridges cutting through the field, so you can confidently travel in any direction. It's big enough to avoid problem areas unlike the beginning area bottlenecking you into trouble. Maybe the starting area could have been this on a smaller scale with a steep mountainous terrain as the final challenge.

I was sad not to have my bike, but I was happy to start building bridges. Of course those became quickly obsolete with the new road system. I over committed to deliveries thinking "I'll do a few easy deliveries while bringing bridge supplies to the road". But then all the deliveries had the biggest, heaviest boxes. So I still had to deliver supplies independently of jobs.

While I'm thankful for the road going over rivers and keeping me away from Mules (which I've also become more comfortable with fighting, non lethally) driving down the road is just boring. Maybe if the bike went a little bit faster?

Oh yeah, I unlocked the bike. And sank it in the river. Someone else had left a bike right at the spot I crashed. They must have known ppl would lose their bikes there.

The asynchronous aspect of co-building the world is interesting. But as I only get 2-3 hrs at night to play, I'm desperate for things to be built more quickly. I'm trying to leave more signs.

Anyway, this new area feels easier than before. I'm feeling less frustrated and the desire to do side quests is greater.

So the story. I don't care a whole lot. It doesn't feel grounded to me so I'm kinda shut off. I'll absolutely watch a breakdown on YouTube, but I'm not feeling the relationships. And the mysteries are so weird and confusing I'm not engaged.

One issue, I think, is that our main character knows everything and everyone. He seems to know the BTs, how everything happened, and what it means (for the most part), so when characters show up and start soeaking death stranding jargon and referencing past events, Sam is just like, "ok", but I'm like, "I have SO many questions". I understand this is a storytelling technique. Get the audience to ask questions and compel them to play/watch more.

Two ways to find that more tolerable. First, the Matrix approach. Make Sam ignorant of BTs and Death Stranding, and the end of the world. He wakes up on a beach, there's a baby and dead sea creatures. He sees floating ghosts then awakes with amnesia to find the world destroyed. So as ppl speak to and teach Sam, there's a shared experience with the player. Then have Sam's memory come back if you want him to be deeply connected to the characters. That's a little more Bourne Identity, but it gives the audience an in-story companion to learn with. Or two build better character interactions so we just enjoy watching the characters interact.

While I think Hideo Kojima is game making genius that tells amazing stories, the moment to moment storytelling is always rough. Characters are rarely grounded. They always have wild personalities based on wild childhoods, and they're stuck in wild circumstances. I think balance is needed. Either have grounded characters in wild scenarios (like Jurassic Park) or have wild personalities in grounded scenarios (Like Clerks 2). Hideo just goes all-wild and it's hard to embrace it.

But if he wrote better dialogue, that would help. He always seems to be showing off his research or turning his essays about philosophy into a conversation between two characters who have stopped trying to disarm a bomb to discuss existentialism. It's probably cause he wants these characters to be deep, and they are, but he's forcing a character's entire traumatic past into a conversation about unlocking a door.

Anyways, best I can tell there was an event where ppl died but their souls didn't really pass on. They're kinda stuck, maybe. So there's beaches that are a sorta after life and some folks can travel between them. Or if your body is on the beach, then your spirit can pop in to reality sometimes. So now there's ghosts haunting the real world and creating craters.

Also there's a thing with time. There's a rain that causes things to age when rained on. There are materials that have advanced properties, they get left behind after a BT dies...so I wouldn't trust using them but everyone does?! I don't know.

OH but driving around on the motorcycle in these interesting environments made me think of Final Fantasy 7. I thought it was because I just played Rebirth l, but I think it's actually cause in Advent Children, Cloud drives a motorcycle cycle around an apocalyptic wasteland to deliver packages. I'm Cloud again!!! Also the ghosts are kind of like the Spirits Within movie.

I am enjoying the game but I'm still not feeling the story. Will see if that improves.

#zach's game journal #PLAYING #Death Stranding #PlayStation #PS5 #video games #gaming

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spacedewey · 4 months ago

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2024: The Year In Music by Some Guy

Unlike most outlets, I wait til the year is actually over to discuss what happened, because despite the conventional wisdom that no one drops anything of note in December, you never know when SZA is going to wait until the week before Christmas to release an album. Again. And it's officially the same album the 2nd time, but with an entire new 15-track album bolted onto the front for cynical streaming financials-based reasons. But you know. You can't count out December anymore.

As always, I make a list of my favorite albums, rather than a "best of" list. Best of lists are stupid. There are as many "best of" lists are there are people with ears, and they're all correct. Better to frame it as things I enjoyed the most, I think. More rambling and an actual list below the cut.

2024 was a weird music year for me. It's a year mostly characterized by artists I love releasing records I didn't really connect with. In the past, you'd've heard me raving about the likes of Cassandra Jenkins, Allegra Krieger, Iress, Erik the Architect, Charlotte Day Wilson, Lucy Rose, Touché Amore, Delta Sleep, Middle Kids, Brother Ali, Latto, St. Vincent and so on, but this year... I don't know that any of them made a bad album, but none of them made something I had to listen to over and over.

A lot of the albums that didn't do much for me were huge critical successes, too. Critics raved that Nilufer Yanya had found her groove on 3rd album My Method Actor, which apparently means they've been clamoring for her to make a record where all the songs kind of sound the same, but not me. Nick Cave finally crawled out from under the totally understandable grief from all the loss in his life the last 10 years and produced the worst album of his career, an album so bad I struck it from my memory and forgot to even mention it here on my first draft, released to thunderous applause. English Teacher's debut EP was one of my favorites in 2022, but while I found this year's This Must Be Texas just fine, they've been showered with a truly insane amount of praise and awards for such a new band. Happy for them, tho! I think they're great.

Even Kendrick Lamar, by the time GNX managed to finally come out and make the whole Drake beef feel like an extended marketing campaign, presented his least ambitious project since 2005, fully half of which sounded like inferior versions of "Not Like Us." Is it bad? No. Is it great? Definitely also no, but you wouldn't know that from its rapturous reception. I really hate finding myself agreeing with Pitchfork, but they were basically the only people saying, "Hey, this is actually not so great," and it's true. It's not bad. It's got a couple pretty great songs on it. But it's pretty dumb, and from an artist who's always seemed to put so much thought and care into his work, even when he was young and unknown and had a much smaller budget, that feels tossed off to me. Yelling "mustard" is funny, but GNX had me kind of missing the wildly problematic and overwrought Mr. Morale, even. That album was mostly pretty bad and proudly platformed a serial abuser as its co-star,* but it was very ambitious. GNX is both only ok and not very ambitious, and I think that may be worse. But, I guess, as Andre 3000, he of last year's most overrated, emperor's-new-clothes-ass album, once said, "kinda sour cuz my favorite group ain't comin wit it, but I'm witcha cuz you probably goin thru it, anyway." There's always next time.

*Which sure didn't help Kendrick in the beef once things got personal, in my view, but no one actually cared as long as they saw Drake getting slammed... You can say "Drake is a pedophile" all you want, and he probably is, but Kodak Black is definitely a rapist and a violent lunatic who can't go 2 weeks without getting arrested, and Kendrick apparently loves that guy, so... Some of us have been waiting to hear Kendrick and Drake go at it since 2013, and we got 1 shot from each artist before things devolved into mudslinging based on highly personal accusations both camps would later claim were based on fake information they fed the other side, and it really made things less fun very fast to me. The best rapper vs. the biggest rapper should have been the World Series of beef, and instead it turned into a bunch of bullshit, in the end. Kendrick won, and he was always going to win. I wanted to enjoy the exhibition. End tangent.

On the other hand, Pearl Jam and Opeth released late career shockers better than anything they'd done in ages. Pearl Jam's Dark Matter bests anything they've made in 24 years, at least, and Opeth's The Last Will And Testament is their first real success since 2008, and in both cases, I never expected it, and it was very cool. And to my earlier point, is The Last Will And Testament the best album of 2024? Almost certainly not. Was I so happy to hear a beloved group I'd basically counted out make something great that I was listening to it every day, sometimes more than once? I sure was! And that's how the ranking works. The Cure and Dark Tranquillity released solid additions to their storied catalogs, Heems made a welcome return to rap with not one, but two good records, Moses Sumney was singing in the rain in a video, he brought R&B back!, it certainly wasn't all bad for people I already liked.

As is increasingly common, new and new-to-me artists ranked very high on my list. The Last Dinner Party, Rosie Tucker, Nadine Shah, Charm of Finches, Flyana Boss, RiTchie, Muchi, GloRilla, Upon Stone and Baby Rose all put out really remarkable records, to me, at least. I only checked out Katy Kirby because she was touring with Allegra Krieger, and her Blue Raspberry was my favorite of 2024 for most of the year.

Hip hop was once again the most represented genre in my collection, as it tends to be. Cakes da Killa continued the movement in hip hop to reclaim house music as black music with huge success on one of the most fun albums of the year. JPEGMafia made literally all the most insane beats of 2024, all in one album. As a rapper he's pretty good, but as a beat maker, he is in a class by himself, weird, abrasive, shocking and hilarious. A December entry by the always welcome Smino further proves you shouldn't release your "best of" list in November. I was surprised to enjoy Future & Metro Boomin's ludicrously bloated 2nd hatin'-ass album in 3 months more than the first. When Tyler, The Creator released CALL ME IF YOU GET LOST 3 years ago, I saw a reaction (I think at AV Club?) that went something like "This album is as great as Tyler fans tried to tell you all his previous albums were." Harsh, but fair. Tyler has always been a lot of promise and charisma waiting for a good album, and it finally happened. This year's CHROMAKOPIA is not as good, but it's still very good. A lot was going on.

Big year for Kendrick's former labelmates at TDE. Ab-Soul and Schoolboy Q turned around downswings on Soulburger and Blue Lips, respectively. Doechii's first full-length was worth the wait. SZA's Lana wasn't as good as SOS, but it was still really good. SiR continues to not really do anything for me, but no record label can have a perfect roster.

(I hit the image limit)

What a pleasure for Heems to return to rapping. After the collapse of Das Racist, he seemed to struggle some, though most of his solo projects were excellent, and then he quit. But to hear him back, making great music and sounding like he was having fun doing it twice in one year was really cool.

But the big winner in hip hop for me was Denzel Curry. His King of the Mischievous South, Vol. 2 was as fun as rap got this year. Adding 5 songs and re-releasing it as KING OF THE MISCHIEVOUS SOUTH was weird, but I liked the songs. But also, he was everywhere, stealing songs on records by JPEG Mafia, Your Old Droog, Powers Pleasant, Kid Cudi, Jasiah, Maxo Kream and PlayThatBoiZay. Stellar year for Curry fans.

I don't know what constitutes "rock" music anymore, but for music with guitars that isn't metal or country or folk, there was a lot to like this year. Honeyglaze! Their 2nd full-length, Real Deal, was a pretty dramatic departure from their excellent 2022 debut, but in a good way, taking them down new musical paths and upping the energy. Similarly, Lightning Bug followed 2021's dreamy A Color of the Sky with a much more raucous album on No Paradise, and yet it worked perfectly. Rosie Tucker's UTOPIA NOW! had some of the best commentary on living in this era I've ever heard, bar after bar that made me go "oh shit." But nothing was topping Katy Kirby's Blue Raspberry for me. Delicate, intricate, with themes and lyrics that repeat through the songs, a really rewarding album experience.

Almost every year, it seems like the mainstream music press get together in some room somewhere and decide which metal release to heap praise on while ignoring literally everything else in the genre. Sometimes they at least pick a good one, as when the whole world shouted the praises of Deafheaven's Sunbather in 2013. This year's selection, Blood Incantation's Absolute Elsewhere, is a pretty unremarkable blend of prog noodling and riffs that sound like other bands, and I don't get it. Also, this year, Rolling Stone missed the meeting, choosing Kerry King's widely panned, I Can't Believe It's Not Slayer-sounding "solo debut" as the only metal album on their best of list, seeming even more out of touch than usual.

Sort of a less interesting year in metal, to me, despite a few big hits. Charcoal Grace is Caligula's Horse's best album, and a pretty stunning portrait of a family torn apart by someone getting lost to antivaxxer-type conspiracies, which I don't think a lot of people would expect from a metal album. Similarly, Dark Tranquillity's Endtime Signals is a record essentially about most governments failing their people in 2020, and what better topic than that is there to write angry music about? "Unforgivable betrayal in the hour of our need, no quarter for this treachery, no mercy for the lost." Fuckin' tell em, boys. Upon Stone's pitch perfect impression of the 90s melodic death metal style Dark Tranquillity pioneered continues a revival of that style I am loving. Beyond that, a lot of good albums, but not really great ones. It's the theme of the year.

What is it with BADBADNOTGOOD where their records have gotten less and less interesting, but their joint projects with others have stayed high quality? Their EP with Baby Rose this year was phenomenal, but their own Mid Spiral project was pretty forgettable. The only way you can get what you want out of them is if another artist asks for you.

Nadine Shah's Filthy Underneath initially hit for me as a fun, unpredictable album driven by a wry wit, so finding out it's all about her cracking up and going to a mental institution was kind of shocking. The album cover depicts the story of the song "Greatest Dancer," which sounds like a lot of fun and is about sitting alone in your dark home, crying your eyes out over a TV dance competition because your emotions are out of control. I don't think there's been such a jarring content-to-sound relationship since Elvis Costello's prime material.

I read in some article that the Last Dinner Party was getting hype as "the next Wet Leg" before they dropped Prelude to Ecstasy, and that sounds utterly insane to me, given how different the groups are. Their sort of baroque, ornate, dramatic sound couldn't be much more different from Wet Leg's (excellent) sneering punk sarcasm, but it also really charmed me, and the songs are top notch.

I think Better Lovers' debut EP was better than this year's Highly Irresponsible, honestly, but it's still a supergroup that truly lives up to the name, and they still put out a fun hardcore record. Will Putney continues to bring new flavors to the music of most of the former members of Every Time I Die, and it's easily Greg Puciato's most enjoyable post-Dillinger Escape Plan project. I need to see them live. I don't know if my ancient body would survive the mosh pit, but I'd be in there.

Is A LA SALSA a pretty safe album after the more experimental Mordecai for Khruangbin? I mean, yeah. But if you're into the thing they do, they really do it. I accidentally saw them twice this year, when they added a a make-up show near me after I'd seen them elsewhere, and it was great both times.

Another supergroup that really did it for me was Les Amazons De Afrique, an assemblage of great female singers from around the continent doing music in a variety of sounds. That was one of the most fun albums of the year to me.

That seems like a reasonable segue to mentioning Meklit's long-awaited return with Ethio Blue. It doesn't have the upbeat, celebratory feel of her incredible 2017 When The People Move, The Music Moves Too, but it retains the joy and the soul of that album, and it's just great to hear her again after so long.

So many artists over the years have seemed to follow a delirious, fun, upbeat first album with a downer 2nd one, and so it was with Remi Wolf's Big Ideas. I like it, but the wildness of Juno is replaced with an audible hurt and disaffectedness that just doesn't scratch the same itch.

Asake's 3rd album in 3 years was a real surprise. His previous album was basically just more of the same after his first, but on Lungu Boy, he's trying a bunch of new sounds and styles outside of the amapiano world he's been taking over, and they all work. A crew of international guest stars add still more unique flavors, and you get an album as unpredictable as it is enjoyable.

Charm of Finches was new to me this year, but the sisters' perfect harmonies over intimate, spare music really works. It kept bringing me back as the year rolled on.

What else? Swamp Dogg's Blackgrass was his 4th album in a 4th different genre in 8 years, and that's amazing at 81. I wish Cowboy Carter had been about half as long, it would've been a lot better without all that "for streaming" filler. Becky G's 3-album transition from pop music to traditional Mexican music across the last 3 years, ending with this year's ENCUENTROS, was really something to hear, that album is great. No idea what she'll do next. Seems like every year there's a band trying on the shoegaze thing that works for me, and this year it was From Indian Lakes. Foreign Hands' note-perfect copy of the early 2000s hardcore sound might not be groundbreaking, but I'm a sucker for that shit and I love it. Flyana Boss have a vibe like a cross between Beastie Boys and early Cool Kids, just super fun. I just really enjoyed hearing Latto rhyme "Georgia peach" and "gorgeous beach" this year. Every outlet that talked about Cassandra Jenkins' album mentioned the Clams Casino lyric, and they were right to do so. I wish I'd been more excited about Beth Gibbons' solo debut. I liked it, but I only liked it. I can't believe I listened to two different albums released in 2024 that contained covers of "Wicked Game" by Chris Isaac, but it happened. I could keep rambling indefinitely, probably. I think I'll stop there. Here's the actual list.

Opeth, The Last Will And Testament Katy Kirby, Blue Raspberry The Last Dinner Party, Prelude to Ecstasy Denzel Curry, King of the Mischievous South, Vol. 2 Upon Stone, Dead Mother Moon Baby Rose & BADBADNOTGOOD, Slow Burn EP Nadine Shah, Filthy Underneath JPEG MAFIA, I LAY DOWN MY LIFE FOR YOU Honeyglaze, Real Deal Charm of Finches, Marlinchen In The Snow Lightning Bug, No Paradise Asake, Lungu Boy Ab-Soul, Soul Burger Doechii, Alligator Bites Never Heal Better Lovers, Highly Irresponsible Pearl Jam, Dark Matter Schoolboy Q, BLUE LIPS Cakes da Killa, Black Sheep Caligula's Horse, Charcoal Grace Rosie Tucker, Utopia Now Dark Tranquility, Endtime Signals Foreign Hands, What's Left Unsaid Smino, Maybe In Nirvana Moses Sumney, Sophcore From Indian Lakes, Head Void Tyler, The Creator, Khromakopia Heems & Lapgan, LAFANDAR Kendrick Lamar, GNX Remi Wolf, Big Ideas Flyana Boss, This Ain't The Album Les Amazones d'Afrique, Musow Dance Meklit, Ethio Blue EP Swamp Dogg, Blackgrass Khruangbin, A LA SALSA English Teacher, This Could Be Texas Beyonce, Cowboy Carter LOMA, How Will I Live Without A Body? Becky G, ENCUENTROS Nilufer Yanya, My Method Actor Lucy Rose, This Ain't The Way You Go Out Rema, HEIS Kali Uchis, ORQUIDEAS Muchi, YOU DON'T LOOK SO GOOD Wheel, Charismatic Leaders Oak, Ash & Thorn, Our Grief Is Thus

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