#the shading and effects are killing me in a good way

[haunted-planes]

OH MY GOD THIS IS SO DARK AND COOL THANK YOU SO MUCH

Come on in, the water's fine

Happy July to @haunted-planes's one friendly boat and no horrors!

[tiredfox64]

Hello! How you doing? I hope you're having a great day :D

I have a small request based on a funny picture I saw on twitter, where reader asks their crush/lover "Do you like sleeping?" and they're like "...yes?" then reader says "Wow, me too... We should try it together sometime"

I just can't choose which mk1 character, since I love all of them lmao. So I'll leave that up to you! Can be with anyone, sfw or not! your pick :p

Nap Time?

Yip notes: Hello! I’m doing alright, hope you are doing lovely （＾∇＾). This seems like such a fun idea. And you are letting me pick! Got me squealing.

Pairings: Tomas, Havik, Rain, Reiko x Afab reader

Warnings ‼️:NSFW, choking, biting, overstimulation (a bit), many positions

Tomas

Why would you ever trust Johnny to give you good advice? Trusting Johnny is a gamble, especially when you ask him for dating advice.

You were unsure of how to flirt with someone so you had to ask Johnny for help. And the help he gave you…was in the form of memes from Instagram and Twitter. He swore to you up and down that this would work on Tomas. You believed him, just like that?

So you tried it out. It might kill you to try to flirt but at least you made an effort to do so. You were a little nervous as you approached Tomas who was supervising the initiates. Immediately when he saw you he broke out into a smile. Your heart was going crazy from just looking at him. You didn’t realize the loving look in his eyes every time he stared at you. You two had a casual conversation for a bit, just the usual. You took a deep breath and tried remembering which pickup line you would use on Tomas. Something that will capture his attention but won’t be too forward.

“So…uh…do you like sleeping?” you asked.

He looked at you, his eyebrow cocked up in confusion, “…yes?”

“Wow, me too…we should try it together sometime.”

That was too forward girl! I thought you would be better than me.

You put your head down in shame before quickly walking off. A walk of shame if you will. That meant however that you missed Tomas’ reaction to your flirting. It was super effective! He knew what you meant because Johnny told him before. Thanks, Johnny. He went from his usual pale self to a shade of pink that only a rose could replicate. You’re just gonna leave him like that? All flustered like you didn’t just ask him to sleep with you. He didn’t know you felt that way about him.

You left him in an uncomfortable position. He couldn’t go find you because he had to supervise the initiates. But he was also trying to keep his composure and not think too much about being in bed with you. He can’t think about how his hands would be all over you, feeling your soft skin as his body is pressed against yours. Ah, too late he’s hard just from that. Pathetic. Better hide that.

The moment the initiates were done training he went looking for you. You were in your room, groaning into your pillows from the embarrassment you still were feeling. You thought this memory would haunt you forever. Oh how wrong you were.

Tomas was knocking on your door, still trying his best to keep his composure. You got up and opened the door. Before you could try to apologize for what you said he asked you something.

“Were you being serious? Please tell me you were being serious.” He said in desperation.

You were shocked. The pickup line worked? And he wanted you to be serious? Alright, ain’t you a winner.

You nodded your head and that’s all Tomas needed. He pushed his way into your room and only then did you notice his boner. It’s really hard to hide it with the uniform he has on. Well, go on, fix it. You started the war you better finish it. Get in bed! Scratch that, he will carry you to bed.

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Your groans of embarrassment soon became groans of pleasure. And pants. And moans. And whimpers. Everything actually.

The pickup line sure did work. It got Tomas into bed with you, naked and desperate to pleasure himself with your body. You heard him groan and whimper every time he thrusted into you. He had you on your side with his chest pressed against your back and his hand on your thigh. He held your right leg up to have easier access to your pussy. His other arm was wrapped around your neck. He wasn’t choking you but holding you in place. He could choke you if that’s what you want.

You had no idea how long you guys were at it. It was like one second he was carrying you to your bed, the next he was ripping your clothes off, and now he had his dick inside of you. The dick must be good considering you were drooling in seconds and could only focus on how much he was stretching you out.

Don’t count yourself short because Tomas is just as dazed as you. Your pussy was as warm and tight as he imagined. When he first slid his cock in he let out a satisfied sigh, like he was relieved to feel your pussy squeezing him. The passion he was putting into each thrust was phenomenal. It’s like he was trying to fuck his love into you. That love sure was hitting your g-spot and making your moans go up a pitch. Soon your leg was shaking and you were telling him not to stop. He wasn’t planning on it. Tomas was as close as you were.

That pleasure was becoming greater and you both couldn’t handle it. One more deep thrust into you and you both were finished. You heard Tomas let out whimpers and moans as he came inside you. He was still thrusting a little which pushed the cum further into you. You would have been moaning as well if it weren’t for the fact that Tomas started choking you with his arm. You were not complaining. The lack of oxygen with your orgasm was the best feeling you have ever had. You could have sworn that the heavens opened and you were looking at the angels who looked down at you and asked ‘Is he gonna put a ring on it?’ Tomas better put a ring on it because you don’t ever want him leaving your side. Neither does he.

Tomas finally let you breathe once he realized he was choking you which you thanked him for doing. Like the gentleman he is he checked and asked if he hurt you anywhere. You told him to not worry and that you were fine. Once that was over he pulled you close to him and gave you kisses all over your face. He could stay here for hours with you so he could cuddle and kiss you. That lovemaking session sure did a number on you guys. It tired you out that you were soon falling asleep in his arms.

Looks like you slept with Tomas in both ways.

Havik

You’re trying to flirt with Havik? Right…how well do you think that will go for you?

Havik is not an idiot but some things go flying over his head. Using unfamiliar terms might not hit the mark. You have to be blunt essentially. But it’s hard to be blunt about wanting Havik to be your partner and asking to have sex with him. Whoever could do that is a maniac or just extremely bold. That’s not you. So the best you could do is flirt and hope it hits the mark.

You approached him as he was in the middle of looking at weapons. That mace is looking really nice to him. Whatever, you’re there now and you seem to be asking for his attention. Not literally, you were actually staring up at him until he noticed your presence.

“What?” He asked.

“I have a question for you.” You replied in a shy tone.

He fully turned his attention towards you, curious as to what you had to say considering you never got this shy before.

“So…uh…do you like sleeping?”

“…yes, why do you ask?” Don’t fuck with him. Havik has no clue what you are getting at.

“Wow, me too…we should try it together sometime.”

There was a silence that followed. A long, uncomfortable silence followed as he stared at you. His head tilted to the side a little to indicate his confusion. This might have been a failure on your part. What were you thinking? You turned around to walk away only to be grabbed by the back of your shirt by Havik. He pulled you back and held you up by your shirt. You can’t walk away after saying something so confusing to him.

“What does that even mean?” Havik interrogated you.

You didn’t want to answer him. This situation was already incredibly embarrassing for you and it doesn’t help that he wanted you to explain it to him. You begged him to forget what you said and put you down already. Havik was not gonna listen, even you knew that. He wouldn’t let you down until you told him what you meant. In a moment of chaos and stress you blurted out the truth.

“I want to have sex with you!”

I mean I would have lied but good on you for being truthful.

There was silence once more. You watched as Havik squinted his eyes. You were unsure of what he was doing until you heard him let out a dark chuckle. If his face weren’t mutilated you would be able to see that he was smiling. But since he has a permanent smile on his face it probably works out.

“Why didn’t you say so? We could do that right now.” He said with pure delight. Get to it!

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

You knew Havik was a freak but you didn’t expect him to be this freaky. Who would have thought that the first position he would pick to do you in was the mating press.

Eight inches slamming into you, damn! Of course, he was going rough. He pushed your legs back as far as they could go so he could go as deep as he could. You were already crying and panting in the first few minutes. He made sure you kept looking up at him. He wanted to see every expression you made and watch every tear slip down your face. Watching your eyes roll back every time he slammed into your g-spot made him want to devour you even more.

Havik was beyond reason. His mind was only on one thing and that was fucking your pussy. You had to stay exactly how he wanted to. Every time you tried to look away from him he grabbed your face and forced you to look at him again. He wouldn’t let go until he got a nice reaction out of you.

“Aww, what a pretty face. I wonder what face you will make when I do this?”

You felt his hand wrap around your throat. Your eyes widened as you stared up at him. The excitement in his eyes was apparent. He squeezed tighter and went rougher. With the position you were in combined with everything else he was doing; it was no shock that you ended up cumming. Strained moans left your mouth as your eyes rolled back. Drool and tears were slipping down your face. Your hands could not take Havik’s hand away from your throat. You were forced to cum on his cock as he choked the life out of you. Sounds started to grow duller but the orgasm you felt was heightened. Every stroke was felt, his dick was hitting every spot down there. You could not ignore the painful pleasure you felt. And when it seemed like you were about to pass out, he let go.

You were trying to catch your breath but it was difficult since he was still fucking you. You were catching your breath in between moans and pants that were hoarse from being choked. Luckily for you, he was close. One, two, three more thrusts and he was golden. He slammed so hard and deep inside you that you could have sworn that he hit your cervix. Havik let out this loud groan that seemed to drag out. His tongue stuck out, causing some of his saliva to drip down onto you. Oh, he was satisfied alright.

Once his little moment of nature’s pleasure was over he pulled out and immediately collapsed onto you. He wrapped his arms around your waist. Tonight, you will be his pillow. You have no choice he is too big to move. Plus he wants to stay in this position with you. You are his girlfriend now. You both had sex that’s how it goes, at least in his head that’s how it works. You heard him lightly snore away. You were happy with the outcome of your pickup line. It worked incredibly well. You slowly started to fall asleep as you held Havik in your arms.

Be careful he drools in his sleep. Wait, never mind, he’s chewing on your titty in his sleep. That’s a bigger issue. At least he does it lightly.

Rain

Ah, going after the high mage himself. It’s an interesting choice to pick a man who might have never felt the touch of a woman other than his mother.

If only you had his confidence you could be better when it comes to flirting with him. Hiding behind a pillar and watching him do magic does not count as flirting. You can talk to Rain but if you try to suggest something or flirt you freeze up. He’ll ask you if you’re alright, you’ll lie and say you’re fine before walking off, and the cycle repeats.

But maybe this time will be different. When the tournament was going on you heard in the background one of the Earthrealmers, probably Johnny, using a certain pickup line on Kitana. It seemed to work since it got a laugh out of her. So it has to work for you, right? You could only hope that this man will get it.

The next time you saw him you ran up to him with a smile on your face. Rain was delighted to see you again. You always manage to make him feel warm on the inside. You get him thinking about you instead of his studies or his duties. You’ll most likely do the same right now. The conversation is going well and you’ve made him smile. Go in for the kill!

“So…uh…do you like sleeping?” you asked awkwardly.

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “…yes? I would imagine everyone does.”

“Wow, me too…we should try it together sometime.”

The silence was loud.

“You have your own bed, why would you need to sleep together?”

For a smartass he sure can be a dumbass.

You were beyond crushed. Just like usual you froze up. You didn’t give Rain a chance to ask if you were okay, you walked off quickly. You left him standing there, confused and unsure if he did anything wrong.

The rest of the day went on. You stayed hidden in your room after that embarrassing fail. Rain consulted with Mileena and Kitana about what just happened. He went on and on about how he didn’t understand what you meant. He was confused about why you wanted to sleep in his bed. When Kitana asked exactly what you said Rain relayed the pickup line. In a matter of seconds, Kitana and Mileena’s faces changed. They knew what you meant. Rain saw the look they were giving him and asked what was wrong now.

“Rain,” Kitana started, “She was flirting with you.”

“She was asking to sleep with you. You know…” Mileena made the gesture with her fingers that indicated what she meant.

Computing…computing…loading…load-SEX! YOU MEANT SEX!

“By Argus, why didn’t she just say that!?” Because that’s not casual, Rain.

Rain booked it out of there, almost forgetting his water staff in the process. He was at your door in minutes. He kept banging on it with little regard for his hand. You groaned as you picked your head up from your bed. You quickly opened the door thinking there was an emergency.

“Be more direct next time.” Rain said as he pushed his way into your bedroom.

Shall we begin the party?

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

He can be an idiot at times he will admit that. Let him make it up by taking care of you.

You were facing Rain as he had you on his lap. He thrusted into you mindlessly while his mouth was occupied with your nipple. Everything about you was soft to him. He couldn’t get enough of your skin. His hands wandered all over before wrapping his arms around your waist. Occasionally his hands would move down just to get a handful of your ass. It’s too tempting how could he not squeeze it.

Your breasts were doing wonders for this man. The moment he saw them he pulled you in so he could shove his face in between them. He looked so peaceful as he sucked on your nipple. Your breasts have become his new happy place. Your fingers ran through his hair which made this more pleasurable for him. He doesn’t want this to end.

You sure were enjoying yourself. With the position you were in you were sitting right on seven inches. Seven inches that was going in and out of you at a steady rhythm. Don’t forget the fact that your clit was being rubbed every time he thrusted into you. Hell even when he took a breather and you would start grinding, your clit was getting the attention it needed. You were in a drunken daze, whimpering and pants with each thrust. It felt like his cock was reaching into your stomach. Every time he hit your g-spot you would twitch and bring his face closer to your breasts. You’re suffocating the poor man but he loves it.

Why Rain is so good at this is a mystery. A mystery you don’t care to solve you are happy with living in this cock drunken state.

This party must come to an end. You both had your fun and you couldn’t hold back your orgasm. You felt Rain’s cock twitch inside you, letting you know he was close. You made him look up at you. You saw how his eyes twinkled when he stared up at you. That look encouraged you to start kissing him passionately as the orgasm hit you both. Hot strings of cum shot into you as your pussy clenched around his cock. Both your moans were being muffled by the kiss luckily.

He held you in his arms for a while as your both caught your breath. You got off his lap and immediately collapsed onto your bed. Rain quickly came to your side and brought you in close. He had your head resting on his chest, allowing you to listen to his heartbeat. His heart was beating for you.  

What a romantic evening.  

Reiko

Going after a man who only knows war? You’re just brave at this point.

This has to be easy, right? Not many ladies are brave enough to ask out any Outworld soldier, let alone the lieutenant himself. The girls who were brave enough to ask Reiko out were either turned down or he didn’t understand what they were doing. The fact is there are no other ladies trying to go after your man. They see it as a losing game while you see it as a challenge.

You spotted him out on the training grounds with other soldiers. You ran nearby and watching from a distance as he took down his fellow soldiers. Once Reiko noticed that you were there you waved him over. He told everyone to take a quick break as he walked over to you. Once he was right in front of you he questioned why you were around and why you seemed to be waiting for him. You told him you had a question for him.

“So…uh…do you like sleeping?” you said with some confidence.

“…yes? Sleep is important to a man like me.”

“Wow, me too…we should try it sometimes.” You finished with less confidence.

“You don’t want to sleep with me.”

“Oh…” You were quiet for a bit before deciding to walk off.

His skull is too thick I fear.

Reiko stared at you before turning around. His soldiers looked at him like he was crazy. He asked them what they were looking at. They started yelling at him that he fumbled so hard. They asked if he really didn’t want to have sex with a pretty lady like you. They said Reiko was so lucky to be flirted with by you.

“Sex? She didn’t ask to have sex with me. She asked to sleep with me.” He replied.

“It’s the same thing!” They yelled back in unison.

“That’s just stupid! If she just said sex I would have said yes!” Too late, idiot!

Reiko was upset by everyone and everything. He decided to visit you once he was done training with the other soldiers. He found your home and like the weird brute he is, he climbed up to your window. You heard tapping at your window as you were getting ready for bed. You were surprised to see Reiko at your windowsill. You opened the window immediately to let him in.

“Is it really that difficult to ask for sex?” For a man like him, probably not.

You don’t need to do much to get Reiko started, your nightgown was doing the work for you.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Oo look how strong Reiko is. Holding you up as he fucks you against the wall, show off.

He needed to show you how much of a man he was. He’s an idiot, not a heathen who doesn’t need sex. Everyone needs a little bit of fun.

His lips were attacking your lips in a rough kiss as his body pinned your body against your bedroom wall. He held onto your legs and kept them wide open as he thrusted into you. His thrusts were angled a little to allow him to rub against your clit. When it comes to sex, Reiko gives it his all. He never wants to lack. So he’s gonna make sure this will be a night you remember.

You sure will remember. Your pussy will definitely remember and crave his cock again. You will remember how its curved shape was a glorious feeling. Combined with his thick size you won’t be needing any other man. He stretched you out that the pain was pleasurable.

Reiko is a rough lover in general so his thrusts were just as rough. All you can hear is the sound of skin slapping, wet sounds, and heavy breathing. You felt his teeth lightly biting down on your lower lip. He didn’t want to ruin your perfect lip so he moved down to your neck. His teeth sank into your soft skin, littering it with marks. Bite marks were appearing all over your neck and shoulders. Each time he marked you his tongue would run over the mark he just made.

“You’re going to look so pretty when I’m done with you. Can’t wait to see everyone’s reactions when they see that you’re my lady now.” He is such a cocky bastard.

You were loopy but were on cloud nine. The pain and pleasure were a devious combination. It’s a high. A high you could only get from Reiko. He is your drug that leaves evidence of his effects on you.

Highs have to end eventually. You started panting fast as you got closer to cumming. Reiko watched your face as he went faster. Your head went back against the wall while your eyes began to shut tight. Your lovely moans came flowing out of your mouth and into Reiko’s ears. He thought the only noise he ever liked was the sound of his enemies dying. But it seems like you’ve proven him wrong.

Your body went somewhat limp but he still held you up. He’s not done yet. He was still pounding away, feeling how your pussy grew wetting to the point it was dripping. He made you stare up at him as he kept fucking you. He wanted to watch you lose yourself more from this. The sight of your eyes growing wet from being overstimulated was delicious to him. It was enough to send him over the edge. You saw the satisfied smile on his face as his cum filled up your pussy. He was trying to shove it as deep as he could like he was trying to mark you even more.

He held you in his arms as he pulled out. His cum was dripping out of you and onto the floor. Whatever, you guys can clean it up in the morning. You both need rest after that rough session. He placed you lightly on the bed before getting in himself. He laid on his back with one arm behind his head and the other wrapped around your body. Reiko was a satisfied man. What would make him even more satisfied was if you asked to be his girlfriend. You need to be blunt when you ask that one.

Give this man a cigarette he is giving off that energy.

Yap notes: WOO DOGGY THAT WAS A LOT. Had to put my mind into it. Thank you for letting me pick I’m glad to do more of my favorite/ underrated men! It was enjoyable to write. Now I need a nap. Adiós!

[coffeegnomee]

Mapicc just left the call and I have too many thoughts to wait until after I finish the vod.

it is so Fascinating to me how 1) Mapicc is good at communication and 2) how much he patiently bides his time.

Mapicc has been not putting his own desires (bloodlust) first ever since he ended the experiments. We saw all like last week how he was willing to not kill Kab for Zam and there was so much discussion over how much he will do anything for Zam because he just wants to be around Zam again.

And so he doesn't mind putting the bloodlust to the side as long as it makes Zam happy, because that makes him happy.

But this day Mapicc, once the imminent threat and fight was over, immediately got Zam into a call and confronted him about Derap and then, in the most, like, extremely confident and clear way, explained how Zam not letting him kill Derap made him feel.

He was up front about his emotions, did not project, deflect, or throw shade at Zam at all, and basically just let him know how he was upset that Zam got int the way of his kill and how much he did not like that.

MAPICC: "hmm. Okay. I get you're mr pacifist [..] saving people, but like, my kills are my kills.”

MAPICC: “yea I- they're like my justifications. You know what I mean? So it’s like, it sucks when like, my kills are fucked”

MAPICC: "and like if I had killed him you could have had the heart and then we could have had a better chance of killing the actual bad people. And what would derapchu have done? Had slightly less of his already way too many hearts”

After each of these point he pauses, letting Zam hear what he's saying, letting Zam process it, waiting for Zam to acknowledge where he was coming from.

And each time Zam agrees Mapicc is right. He sees Mapicc's point.

And then the most devotions comment of the conversation:

ZAM: "but should I be allowed to turn a blind eye in that sense?” MAPICC: "well I don't want to be in a situation where I can't talk about what kills I'm gonna get or what I’m doing and I have no backup, you know what I mean?”

He doesn't want to not be able to tell Zam what he's up to. He doesn't want that situation, so he's getting ahead of it and letting Zam know immediately how he feels.

I can't help but feel like this is exactly the reason why Zam always ends up with Mapicc in every season. He is incredibly good at communication and making his point and his opinion clear.

And because he has such a clear opinion on how the server works and what makes it work best, he is incredibly persuasive and Zam ends up following him wherever he goes. (I've heard whispers Zam is thinking of leaving now, haven't gotten there. will be interesting)

I've thought so much over the years how Lifesteal is about convincing other people to do your thing.

Walk into your trap, show up at a fight, yap with you, join your team, stop their lore, whatever it is, the entire thing revolves around persuasion.

Which brings me to the second point, Mapicc is incredibly patient.

The week before the experiments ended, in a muted stream that was saved on the archive, Bacon and Mapicc talk about the server, and Mapicc says his one main goal is to get all the pacifists to break. (9/4/24)

And a week before, while Zam was cleaning up the burned down tree, while talking about how quickly Flame gave up on his fight, Mapicc said, “He’s never fought princezam. He’s gonna have to learn like a new, like dedication to the sport” (8/25/24)

Now, I don't actually think Mapicc had some grad evil manipulation arc to get close to Zam and get him to break (though I'll admit at the time my brain automatically thought everyone is pulling a Spoke wormhole at all times)

But it is more that he realized he would be much more effective in getting Zam to change his opinions if he was close to Zam and could build the trust necessary to get him to see why Mapicc thought his view was flawed, and as an added bonus he would get to hang out with Zam a lot for free.

And here we finally had the perfect moment. Zam died in a fight. Because he had low hearts.

So Mapicc makes it clear how Zam's actions made him feel and then drives his point home about why Zam should think differently the rest of the conversation:

MAPICC: "it’s not cause you were playing shit it's cause you have nothing bro, and it's like, you're a crutch to yourself [..] which is like, you can be a crutch to yourself, but like mapicc is the healthcare” ZAM: "I wanna beat them in pvp. I wanna be able to take them on in a fight and win” MAPICC: “you know what you have to do for that?” ZAM: "*sigh* yea I- I do” ZAM: "and the only person who died in that fight was me” MAPICC: “[sing song] and you know why bro. Like genuinely. Like you can't keep doing this. Well, you can if you want to, I mean obviously you can if your morals, but like-... I don't think it’s the best move” ZAM: "and all I can do is just stand in the destruction” MAPICC: "yup"

Mapicc's ideology for the server is that fighting is always a good, conflict and content should happen all the time. You should kill because it progresses the server forward in some way. You should always have some reason to back up your murder, but that reason can be small, the only important thing is that you have a reason and it is something you can communicate.

He also thinks power is always a reason to kill someone.

Zam on the other hand, Mapicc's beloved friend, does not think the same way, at least not in full. Zam understands conflict should happen on the server, and that the powerful should be fought, and in those situations devotions flourish.

But Zam operates from a character motivation, which he will change season to season, and from his emotions, which means his opinion about himself and his past actions has a HUGE pull on why he does anything ever. This was literally the foundation of this entire stream starting with a 40 minute reflection on s4 and vitalasy.

They are fundamentally, for their deepest core perspectives, ideologically opposed for their opinions on how to act on the server.

Idk if they'll ever be able to be on the same team forever. Sometimes, for brief moments, everything lines up and their devotion runs wild. They work the most synergistically of any duo on lifesteal ever.

But then Mapicc's bloodlust gets too strong and Zam's emotions get too loud and things fall apart.

At least, historically.

(oh, and felt the need to add at the end here that operating from emotions is not a /neg statement. It is entirely /neutral in my mind)

[sciencebecameouraddiction]

title: dancing in the rain

author: sciencebecameouraddiction

fandom: hazbin hotel

rating: PG

genre: slight, baby angst/ major fluff

pairing: Alastor x Reader

summary: all hell had was acid rain, and all you wanted was the rainstorms you knew on earth.

Rain hardly ever was an occurrence in Hell. And when it was, it was acid rain. You sighed, looking out the window and watched the green acid pouring down on everything, missing desperately the rain storms that you had on earth. Being the youngest at the hotel, you remembered more clearly the burn of the sun on your skin, the cool breeze on a fall day and even the mix of the humidity in the air that felt like it would choke you but the reprieve as a rainstorm came and fell from the heavens.

“What has you so melancholy, my dear?” A voice asked behind you, shockingly quiet all things considered, toning down the announcer quality in his voice.

“Hey Alastor, just thinking is all.” You replied and smiled at him, not wanting to explain that the acid rain made you sad.

“Now, whatever it is that you’re thinking about is casting a dark shadow over your usually lovely face. So, tell me, what’s wrong? What kind of hotelier might I be if I didn’t ensure that all the patrons here were happy?” He said, the announcer tone coming back into his voice, which made you wince. Knowing that meant he knew you were lying so he was going to put on a show if you were. You sigh.

“It’s the rain.” You explain.

“The what now?” He asks, all effects gone from his voice except shock and a bit of confusion.

“The rain. I miss the rain. Not this rain. The rain on earth. The smell of the earth after a good rain storm, the way that especially in the summer when it was so hot, the rain was a cool reprieve. It always felt like…” You trailed off.

“Forgiveness?” Alastor finished, looking outside the hotel now too. You blink and look up at him.

“Yes. Are you sure you don’t read minds?” You chuckle, resting your head on your hand. You suddenly feel his microphone tap your head. You look up at him as holds his arm out to you.

“Come with me.” He says, not giving you time to feel confused. As when you take his arm you shadow travel with him to the other side of the hotel appearing at the door of his room.

“This is your room.” You say, confused now.

“Ever observant. A skill many would kill for I’m sure.” He smiles at you, but the sarcasm is evident as he holds open the door for you and you step into his room.

“Just a certified Sherlock Holmes.” You roll your eyes, taking his sarcasm.

“I never had the chance to read those books.” He mused for a moment, as he shut his door and walked around you heading to the forest area. You stayed near the door.

“I have the collection if you’d like to borrow it and read them.” You explain. “They are annotated though, so you’ll have to put up with my notes.” You explain.

“That would be lovely, dear.” Alastor says stepping on the grass and you watch as he takes off his coat and hangs it on a coat rack that appeared suddenly. He turns to you. “Aren’t you coming?”

“I-I guess?” You say, more like a question. You jog over to him and start walking next to him. “Are you killing me in your forest because I complained about acid rain?”

“Oh, no. Not you at least.” Alastor chuckles. “I want to show you something.” You look up at him skeptically.

“Hey Alastor, can you take smaller steps?” You ask having to jog to keep up with him. He looks down and hums seeing how you were almost running next to him.

“Good to know that if I had to catch you I could do so without breaking a sweat.” He says, as he walks slower and taking smaller steps, allowing you to actually walk, instead of run.

“Har har.” You say deadpanned and roll your eyes. You walk into a clearing that has a cabin in the middle. The whole forest felt like it was shrouded in the twilight of fall when lightening bugs gently floated around and the sky was a perpetual shade of blue, purple and pink. You finally looked up and around, seeing the trees, the bugs, the animals, the sky. Tears formed in your eyes. “Alastor, this is beautiful. It looks just like-“ You stop, your throat constricting as emotion overtakes you. You feel Alastor’s clawed hand rest on your shoulder.

“Just like earth?” He finishes, speaking softer than you had ever heard. You nod and look at him, watching him take everything in and then looking down at you.

“Come, let me show you something else.” He says, walking away and heading to the cabin. You walk in and suddenly feel at home. The decor is a little dated and you feel transported to the 1920’s, but it’s all homey. There’s a kitchen, a living room, a lounge and a hall way leading to what you assumed to be a bed room. You walk through the living room, taking it in but trying not to pry at the photos Alastor had in frames along the mantel of the fire place, you see at the back door there is almost like a deck, with a more modern porch swing.

“The porch swing is a nice addition.” You mention, smiling a bit at the modern accessory in what felt like a time capsule.

Alastor chuckles as he sets his microphone down and rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. He joins you next to the window. “You haven’t seen the best part.” He murmurs, unusually quiet and reserved. You don’t mention the change in demeanor though, wanting to savor the quiet and this almost more authentic view of the Radio Demon.

“What’s the best-“ You stop when you hear it. The start of a pitter patter of rain on the roof, that builds and when you look outside, it’s raining. “Is that?” You blink a few times.

“It is. Safe for you to touch as well. You won’t get hurt.” He smiles a genuine looking smile as he goes over to the record player and starts playing music. Your hand touches the door, feeling the coolness of the water slide down the glass pane. You can’t stop yourself as Alastor fiddles with the record player, you open the door, quickly closing it so no rain would get in the cabin and rush outside off the deck. Twirling in the grass as the rain poured down soaking you.

“What are you doing?” Alastor yelled from the door, watching you like you had gone mad.

“Dancing in the rain!” You yelled back, a smile feeling permanent on your face.

“You’ll catch a cold, get back inside!” He says, looking up at the sky and then back at you.

“No! Come join me! It’s amazing! This is exactly what I remember.” You say holding you hand out to Alastor. His smile looks more like a grimace as he takes you in looking like a wet dog. He looks back inside and waves his hand at something and you see towels appear and the record player is louder so you can hear it outside. He takes off his shoes and socks and places them neatly at the door but far enough away that when you come in, water or mud won’t get on them.

He walks out getting drenched almost immediately as you run up to him and grab his hand and pull him on the grass. You take both his hands and start trying to spin around in a circle with him, as you see his eyebrow raise. You stop and look at him, a little disappointed when he doesn’t spin with you and you start to let go of his hand, until his hand tightens and pulls you to him.

“We can dance in the rain, but we will be actually be dancing.” He says as he proceeds to guide you through a dance that was popular when Alastor was alive, morphing into an odd mash up of a swing dance and you dancing like you were at a rave. You both settled down and were now just slow dancing as the song had turned a bit slower. You watched as Alastor’s eyes were closed as his face angled up to the sky. You made a spit second decision, and rested your head on his chest, really it was like the start of his abdomen but it was as tall as you could reach. You didn’t see his head snap down to you and watch as you seemingly relaxed in his arms, drunk off the warmth he gave and the cool from the rain still coming down. His hand moved up, and grabbed your chin, encouraging you to look at him. As you did, you saw his eyes widen and his cheeks turn bright red.

“What’s wrong?” You ask quietly.

“I’ve never… done anything like this before.” He says quietly, and it breaks the fogginess you felt before.

“You don’t have to be scared. It’s just me.” You say, as if it’s the most simple thing in the world.

“Just you? Darling, just you is enough to have me go to war.” Alastor murmurs and then his eyes widen again, shocked. You realize that he is just blurting things out and there is no filter. You smile.

“Well, I’m honored that the Radio Demon would want to be in my corner.” You say as your hand reaches up to touch his cheek, stopping just a few centimeters away, allowing him to close the gap if he wanted to. He leans into your touch shaking his head.

“Not the Radio Demon, dear. Just Alastor.” He says, looking at you with a vulnerability you had never seen before. Your eyes widen and you smile.

“Even better.”

[kombuuuu]

miles deflecting is so GOOD he makes me ILL!!!!!! i love ur writing <3 do u think we cld have like a short continuation 4 it?

Deflecting on you.

42!Miles Morales x Fem!Reader

“Would you hurt me?” “Never again.”

continuation to this C:

im infecting people with the 42!Miles propaganda cough cough 🗣️ ly2 pookie (also this is definitely not short)

A few days had passed now, and Miles had stayed his previous level of civil, bordering caring, with you.

He wasn’t glad with how easy he had let the two other kids get off. But when they were reduced to cowering forms in darkened corners whenever he was around, it brought a pinch of justice, pride to his chest. Although, James had a rather decent punishment, in his opinion.

Word had gone around that he’d gone insane, smashed his head against a desk in an old , deserted classroom until he’d passed out. Mangled his own skull, intended to stab someone, but couldn’t get up from the damage to his own self.

A tip to the cops surveying the scene, and the rumour was spread a little wider.

He had been wary with you, from the moment you both sat staring at the city life below you, in his bed.

In his room, his house with his Ma just outside. The domesticity of the moment making the ache in his lungs suffocate his heart. Squeezing and pumping out as much blood as it could, heart rate trying to keep up with the lack of air.

He’d thought back to it too often in the mere days since occurrence for him to simply brush it off, but he sure tried.

—

He tapped the rubber of his pencil along his desk, staring at the page below him. The words being said had been drowned out by his racing mind, something he fully knows would get him in trouble eventually for “lack of effort”. But it was maths, there wasn’t a single thing being told that he didn’t already know.

What had his current attention, was the faint sketch of you on his gridded paper. He hadn’t meant to draw it, he’d just—, spaces out and it was there when he snapped back.

Now he was at a standstill with himself, use the currently tapping eraser to get rid of the drawing, or live with the faint lines hidden between pages. It was obvious, rub it out. But the thing, the most difficult aspect—,

—Was how utterly gorgeous the drawing was.

How your hair framed the page, the shape of your eyes being shaded in led. The soft look you’d given him that night being practically pulled from his mind and placed on the cheap paper. He’d recreated it perfectly, he could feel the apprehension, the uncertainty.

But despite how bitter those words sounded, uncertainty was still consideration.

You were considering him. Not as an enemy, or a nuisance — as a stranger.

You can get to know a stranger.

You can get to know him.

Miles closed his eyes and groaned under his breath, rolling eyes at the hope rising in the back of his neck.

He flicked to the next page, promising to never open to it again.

If it ended up cut out of his book, folded neatly and stuffed in the hidden latch of his desk drawer, no one but him would know.

—

You hadn’t forgive him, of course you hadn’t — you’re not that naïve.

He hurt you, cause you an entire season of torment, sleepless night and stress filled days.

You tried to stay quiet, like you always had. Passing by crowds unnoticed and surfing under the noise with a cotton stuffed ear.

And he’d started a ruining of that.

Trying not to draw attention to yourself, despite him so clearly trying to put you in spotlight.

This whole ordeal was a domino effect from that damn kaleidoscope, and he was just another finger flicking the next tile.

Until he wasn’t.

And he’d near killed a man for you. Taken care of you, feared for your life.

He’d found you, from nothing but a gut feeling.

The way he would stare now, was less vindictive. His gaze no longer that of anger but of a man conflicted. Like he couldn’t tell what to think of you.

You lay over your ruffled sheets, quilt and bedding under you to not overheat yourself. You window was wide open, airing out your humid room. The soft sway of leaves sprouting from the vines crawling over your building was pleasant. Digging their roots in the crevices of your window sill like Miles had been digging into the crevices of your mind.

You put a hand over your head, stretching your back up and listening the the crack that came from it.

Dropping back down and huffing, you continued to watch your ceiling in mild disinterest, trying desperately to reach the essence of sleep, and let the way Miles’ lips curled into a smirk fall from your mind.

He hadn’t realised it, but his small rebuttal to your teasing that night in his room had made a permanent statement in your head, no longer able to forget about it.

“No, just you —,” Your mind hadn’t cared to supply the rest.

Every single thing about that scarring night had burned its way into your temporal lobe. Like giving it a searing kiss with memory stained lipstick.

A small clicking had caught your attention, like fingernails tapping glass. The clinks were rhythmic, had the coordination of a spiders legs.

Your focus on the plain ceiling was now broken, a curiosity replacing it.

You approached the open window without caution, Moonlight spilling through the glossy panes. Placing your hands on the sill, you leaned forward, and felt the small rush of wind over your shoulders, the breeze cooling your heated face. An urge to close your eyes and take it in almost over-reigned that new curiosity, but your self preservation thought better of it. Checking left and right either side as if someone was going to be waiting right there for you. Because that was a completely rational and not at all ludicrous thought. You scoffed to yourself, glancing at the skyline with glistening eyes before turning and heading back inside, to finally — maybe, fall asleep.

—

Miles released a quiet breath, braids swaying from his suspended position hanging from a rooftop. Your rooftop, of your building—.. Where he was watching you. It was coincidence, really. That somehow, running from guys he stole a cure his Momma needed for a patient from. And when grappling from building to building, using clips and hooks and zip lines to get away from them, he’d stumbled into your street.

He’d lie to himself and say it was just the street his Ma’s favourite Paella was made, but the one time he’d seen you, exhausted from school—, drag yourself into an apartment across the street from that very place..

His opinion hadn’t changed, so to speak. But there was an added motive, that’s it.

And he’s hiding, it’s not his fault if your apartment is high up. Or his need to see you is growing at alarming rates, or his heart was beating so loud in his ears that he hadn’t heard you approach the window.

So when your fingers had softly scraped along the sill of your window, he’d pulled himself above you — and prayed you wouldn’t look up.

You hadn’t, thankfully.

He’d watched the way your skin had shone under the city lights, your features illuminated and accentuated by the chaos the streets. You were so unbothered—, so calm, even amidst everything he (and everyone else) had put you through.

Like a stubborn stone keeping the whole wall from collapsing.

His admiration for you had grown, not only from the past months — which he realises is slightly sadistic — but from your tenderness that had only lasted mere minutes. Even the glimpse of a softer you, not the one covered in a satiated rage, hands squeezing lemons until the bitterness dripped not from the fruit broken skin, but from your own. The sting of acid only making your bloodied finger feel more justified.

Not that.

What he saw was a woman free of woes, no need to split her skin when her heart was already so vulnerable.

And he craved for a mere glimpse of that again.

Like old, your anger had satisfied him. Gave him those doses of you he’d fiend for, and had excited him to no end. Now, he’s found something stronger.

He can’t let you go.

He watches you scoff at yourself, his mask retracting from his face. You look towards the city’s edge one last time before turning and making your way back inside.

He sighs, adjusting his position on the buildings ledge, and grabs the waterspout running the side of the building, crawling back to the shadows.

His claws clink, like nails tapping glass.

—

There wasn’t a day of peace in the last fortnight.

You were still suffering the effects of your previous injuries. People knowing that something had gone down between you and James, seeing as he hadn’t showed up in two weeks. And the near-healed bruises on your face were a well indicator of your involvement.

So when you stumbled upon Keith, someone you’d basically owed your still-intact-body too, scrambling out of an alley. Bloodied and bruised, nose broken and face almost as busted as your was that day. Safe to say you weren’t exactly confused to what was happening.

He looked up, eyes meeting yours almost eerily fast, the blood from his nose coating his teeth a deep crimson. A sick chill ran down your spine and you stumbled back. A wet gasp for breath was heard, diverting your attention towards its gruesome origin.

Turning your body towards the darkened alley, vision blurring at the edges. Your breath escaped you.

Keith had started speaking, and over the ringing in your ears he’d begged for your forgiveness, scraping his knees while he clawed to get away from his friends continuous spluttered coughing.

“What—..”

Mathew was lying on the floor, avidly trying to protect himself using only his bare hands. While a figure you could only see the back of punched in a strict, repeated pattern — like they’d done this before.

“Miles?”

The man whipped his head towards you, blood dripping down a cut on his cheekbone, and a snarl over his face.

Said contortion quickly smoothened out, a rather *confronted look replacing it.

Keith was long gone by now, having dragged his bloodied body away from whatever mess you were now a part of.

“Chiquita, don’t freak out.”

The way your lungs seemed to refuse oxygen kind of refuted that command.

You were frozen still, eyes stuck on the barely conscious body beneath the subject of your recent intrigue.

Mathew was barely recognisable, eyes puffed up in bruises and bloodied flesh. Miles had taken near no damage compared to the other men.

“[Name], c’mon.” He was getting up now, shuffling off his opponent with a tone of apprehension.

Only when his movement shifted your frozen eyes, did you see the key details you’d missed.

Braids, Nikes, Jacket, Collar, Claws.

A spray painted logo you’d only ever seen one man branding.

The Prowler.

"No te precipites, Ma."

“Don’t act rash, Ma.”

Right as the endearment left his mouth, you turned on your heel and ran.

"[Name], Por dios — quedate aquí."

“[Name]! Oh my god — stay there.”

He waved nonchalantly to the definitely not-going-anywhere boy on the floor. Shifting his foot back and jumping at a wall, claws digging in and gripping the ledge to the roof, swinging himself over it and keeping the momentum in a run.

Darting through corner stalls and confused pedestrians, you tripped over yourself to get away.

A strong, persistent mantra of ‘Holy fuck.’ was circling through the forefront of your mind, and yet everything else was hyper aware.

Not a fault in your step as your grace seemed to come out in times of dire panic, like a dancer following their cues, every movement made around you was an instructors yell.

You turned into the alley leading to your apartment, a shortcut, when you heard someone drop down behind you. You spun around, fast enough to dizzy yourself, and gave one look to the neon mask of the vigilante before going to run again. A small noise of panic escaped your shaking form.

“No corras, por favor!”

“Don’t run, please!”

Your heart beat fast, reaching the door to your apartment complex, swiping your key card and launching yourself inside, the scuffle of shoes being heard just outside the slammed shut door.

“Please, [Name], let me in. We can talk this out, Ma.”

Miles begged, knocking on the complexs’ back door.

"They were gonna jump you, [Name].”

“I don’t believe you.”

Your voice came out shaking, confused and *scared. You’d known he’d been capable of violence. It was adamant in the way he wouldn’t flinch at a hit, or the scars that coated his exposed skin.

But this? A man who’s killed people? Who was going to do it again had you not been a witness.

“I—“ You whined, voice giving out and tears finally breaking the surface of your waterline. “I’ve seen you—,” The back of your head hit the metal door and you sobbed silently. “,—On the news.”

Outside the thin steel, Miles sighed, guilt weighing his chest down heavy. He got sloppy, and paid the price. His anger, rage toward these men. And what they’d planned to do to you — he’d say it was justified. You’d say it was monstrous.

“You kill people, Miles.”

His heart broke at the tone of your voice, the quiet sniffles and shortened sobs. The way your voice cracked and broke under the pressure of your open heart.

“Ma, I—“

“I don’t wan’ hear it.”

His hands rest on the cooled metal, forehead pressing against it as he sighed.

“Please let me in.”

“I can’t.”

“[Name]. Chiquita, por favor.”

He’d begged, ready to get on his knees and stand out in the 40° (104°) heat, and wait until you opened the door. Even if it took days.

Although,

“I’ll break in.”

“Wha—,” you cut yourself off in a sobbing laugh, rubbing at your tear tracked face. “Miles, That’s not a very good bargaining chip.”

He smiled, closing his eyes and loving the sweetened tone you held. You weren’t scared of him, you were scared of the Prowler.

“‘Made you laugh.”

His accent thickened over the words, dragging them out in a rasping hush. Something only for you to hear.

Your resolve was breaking, lungs slowing to a calmed lull as the adrenaline left your body. You didn’t break though— couldn’t.

“I can’t—,” You looked to the ceiling of your apartment’s ground floor, standing in an empty back room. “,—You’re not good, Miles.”

“You helped them, before.” Your brows furrowed, not of anger, but of betrayed desperation.

“You.. You just watched—“

“I know, baby, I know.”

He opened his eyes again, staring at the door like it had attacked you.

“Go upstairs, yeah?”

“Why—“

“Just go on, Ma.”

You huffed out a slow breath, fight draining from your being. You wanted to yell, to scream at him how wrong of a man he was. How he couldn’t risk everything he had for you, not now. Not as the estranged people you were.

You wanted to show the anger you never could, reach that brink of anguish until you’d finally given him what he’d wanted since your moment of meeting. But he no longer wanted that.

He’d always wanted you to break, now he just wants you.

“Okay.” You were breathless and tired, coerced.

He lifted his head quickly, hands splayed against cooled metal curling into fists, an excitement running through him like that of a promise.

—

A minute later you were opening the door to your apartment, and locking it behind you. Anxiously making your way to your bedroom, worried to see what was inside, When you stepped inside, you weren't exactly surprised when your eyes landed on Miles' face, what had surprised you though — was that he was hanging off your window sill with a sheepish smile on his face.

"Now will you let me in?" His voice muffled through the glass and you breathed out a quick gasp, "You— Miles, get down!"

"Down?" He smirked, letting one of his hands drop from the wooden sill. "Oh my god!"

You rushed towards your window, discarding your phone on your bed carelessly. You slid your window up, as Miles laughed, swaying from his one hand. "Jesus Miles— are you trying to kill yourself?!"

He crawled through and you grabbed his free hand, dragging him inside. "Get—.. get." Giving up on your scolding half way through, you quickly ushered him towards your bed and turned to close your window.

"When you said 'Go up.' I didn't think yo—"

"I'm sorry.'

Your hands were left floating above your windowsill, shaking in still air. Miles had come up behind you, hands resting over your hips, toying with the hem of your shirt. His face lowered towards your ear voice dipping with it.

"I know you're mad— hate me, all that. 'S okay. I know—,"

He slowly moved his arms further around your waist, watching your breath hitch and the feel of your pulse under the blow of his breath.

",—And I'm sorry."

"I don't hate you."

"You don't hate anyone."

You relaxed into his hold, tears brimming forth again.

"You keep—" "Scaring you." "Yeah." He dragged his left hand down, trailing his fingers over the skin of your arms and watching as the bumps rose along your flesh. You were entrancing.

"Are you scared now, Mami?" He grabbed your wrist in a gentle hold, swiping his bloodied thumb over your smooth skin. Your hand twitched, and his thumb stopped.

"No." You flipped your hand into his, linking your fingers together, careful to not agitate his bruises.

"Would you hurt me?" He reciprocated, closing his fist over your own, the flick of pain felt like nothing— not when the aching in his chest was finally being calmed.

"Never again."

—

DUDE MY PHONE IS FUCKING BROKEN LOLLL

no ending image today im on my laptop (fucking cries)

translator (bbg) @sataraxia

taglist!! @red-riot-rat , @stvrfir3 , @erensbbg , @umawooma , @wisteriaflowersss , @inejsknifes , @meowsannie , @manduse , @rainy-darling , @riya1161 , @key-zee , @toasttew , @em711 , @starsval , @gemma42 , @lovelymiaablogs

[milkycarnations]

Lecher Bitch | Jane/Reader/Natalie | 1k words

Divider can be found here. Just a short and sweet drabble about a dream I had. It isn't much, but I think the quality is adequate and I'm willing to expand on the mindfuckery aspect in the furture.

one-shot masterlist | mdni | cw: lesbians with a daddy kink, threesome, hairpulling, dirty talk, mirror sex, Quebecois.

I should make it very clear that I do not speak Canadian French. I simply copy and pasted the phrase Natalie says. According to Wikipedia, it roughly translates to "Jesus christ, there is no way you can be this stupid" - or something like that.

Your breath hitched as Natalie thrust into you. You were dizzy, sandwiched between two hot women, and rutting dumbly. A whine fell past your lips as Nat's hips pushed into yours, a domino effect that sent Jane's bumping against the bathroom counter. Nat mumbled something illegible in French, her pronunciation raspy and slurred.

Vanity overcame you. In the mirror, two extra sets of eyes stared back: Natalie's sharp and green, Jane's honeyed, round, and accentuated by the sharp black winged liner she had painted on her lids. She was a total bombshell, despite her scars - a complete one-eighty from the tall and lean woman pounding into you.

A snap of her hips drew you from your thoughts, drawing a whine from you.

"Are you even listening to me?" Natalie snapped, her blue strap filling you completely.

You weren't.

You hummed in acknowledgement, lids growing heavy as you watched Jane's breasts bounce from the motion of her grinding into your hand. You reached up, tugging her tank top beneath her tits with one hand. Her nipples were hard - a light nude shade. She pulled your arms around her tighter, giving her more leverage over your fingers as she rocked back and forth.

"Esti de câlice de tabarnak, c'est pas possible comment que t'es cave!"

Natalie's fingers carded through your hair, pulling your head back and forcing you to look into her eyes. Just hers.

"Are you listening now?"

Nodding, you agreed. You were listening, but you didn't promise to listen good. The weight of Jane's hips stuttering, her thick scarred thighs brushing past your hands made the bathroom feel humid. Nat rolled her eyes.

"God, you cum-brained idiot. Can you use your mouth, at least?" she spat, her eyes filled with faux disgust. Her free hand reached out to push a thumb into your mouth, pressing down on the wetness of your tongue. It hardly put a dent in her pace. With a moan, your tongue lolled out, sticking past your bitten lips.

"Good. Now give Jane a kiss like she asked for."

Her hands pushed you forward until your lips met Jane's neck. She kept one grasping at your hair, the other pressing just above your ass as she steadied you. Even in your haze, you wasted no time in pressing wet, hot kisses against Jane, feeling her shiver under the touch. A deep groan bubbled from her chest, echoing slightly in the poorly decorated bathroom.

"Augh! Fuck-"

From in front of you, Jane panted under your touch. You caught each other's eyes in the mirror, her teeth sinking into the matte black lipstick she'd flawlessly applied. The makeup hardly budged. Shakily, her hands returned to the edge of the counter as you sucked at the crook of her neck.

"I'm gonna cum fast," she said, rhythmically grinding her hips forward as you rubbed at her swollen clit. A grunt came from behind you. Natalie glared at you through the mirror, her gaze peeking over your shoulder threateningly.

You tried not to focus. Tried not to hyper fixate on the rhythm and pressure. Once more, your eyes squeezed shut as you busied yourself with giving Jane love bites. When Nat's hips nestled the tip of her cock against your cervix, you mimicked it against the swell of Jane's ass. If you fucked this up, both of them might kill you.

Jane's whines hitched and rose, turning into deep, breathy moans as she drew closer. You grasped onto her like a starved man. She sputtered.

"I'm cumming!" a barrage of noise following as she dripped over your fingers. You didn't dare stop - not until she begged you to. "Fuck, yes!" she gasped.

Eventually, Nat tugged at your hair again and your fingers left Jane. Her cock pulled out, leaving you feeling void and empty at the loss. Natalie wasted no time pushing you down to kneel on the tile floor.

In a split second, Jane was on top of the counter, her hips spilling off the edge. Your hands reached out, gripping at her plush thighs and supporting her on your chest and shoulders as you lapped at her cunt.

"Unnnngh..." was the most you could manage - drawn out and stupid. Natalie laughed as she got on her knees, situating herself right behind you. To your surprise, she pushed in. The position was cramped and didn't offer much room for movement, but it was just enough to rock her strap into you - massaging against your cervix.

Gasping, you tasted Jane on your tongue, falling further against herself. Dear lord, you were going to die here.

Your actions were frantic, and your eyes rolled back as you sucked and licked, occasionally pulling away to blow cool air against her cunt.

"Yeah... Keep using that tongue for daddy," Nat panted.

The misnomer did horrible things to you, making your pussy twitch around her strap. You moaned into Jane, the vibrations sending pleasure through her. Using a pointed tongue, you switch-backed your way to her clit, swirling around it.

"Shit, you like that, huh? Fucking hell." Natalie cackled, noting how you seemed to work harder; grow more desperate

Jane's head was thrown back, gravity pulling her hair down towards the countertop. She braced against the wall and the mirror.

"Don't even think of stopping or I'll beat your ass raw." The threats continued, pouring from the woman behind you as she thrusted. You wouldn't dream of stopping. "Keep taking my cock like a good little slut. I'm not stopping until you cum around me."

She pushed your face even further into Jane, muffling your moans. You were close, but the only way the girls could know is through your sounds. You didn't hold back, crying out into her pussy as Nat drove you over the edge.

"That's right. Oh, good girl!" she cooed mockingly, "Cum all over your daddy's cock. Know what you're good for baby."

You squirmed, your body flailing out around you in sheer pleasure as the orgasm came in waves. Fingernail indents spotted Jane's thighs. Nat kept fucking you for a few moments after, only stopping because she knew you wouldn't prevent her from smothering your face into her girlfriend's cunt.

She pulled you back, your face soaked and glistening in the light.

"C'mon, you still got a lotta work to do." leaning over, she licked your lips. "Jane's still gotta cum again, remember?"

[literaryvein-reblogs]

5 Literary Terms for Studying Poetry

ABSTRACT DICTION / ABSTRACT IMAGERY: Language that describes qualities that cannot be perceived with the five senses. For instance, calling something pleasant or pleasing is abstract, while calling something yellow or sour is concrete. The word domesticity is abstract, but the word sweat is concrete. The preference for abstract or concrete imagery varies from century to century. Philip Sidney praised concrete imagery in poetry in his 1595 treatise, Apologie for Poetrie. A century later, Neoclassical thought tended to value the generality of abstract thought. In the early 1800s, the Romantic poets like Wordsworth, Coleridge, and Shelley once again preferred concreteness. In the 20th century, the distinction between concrete and abstract has been a subject of some debate. Ezra Pound and T. E. Hulme attempted to create a theory of concrete poetry. T. S. Eliot added to this school of thought with his theory of the "objective correlative."

EUPHONY (Greek "good sound"): Attempting to group words together harmoniously, so that the consonants permit an easy and pleasing flow of sound when spoken, as opposed to cacophony, when the poet intentionally mixes jarring or harsh sounds together in groups that make the phrasing either difficult to speak aloud or grating to the ear. Here is an example of euphony from John Keats' The Eve of St. Agnes (1820):

And lucent syrops, tinct with cinnamon; Manna and dates, in argosy transferred From Fez; and spiced dainties, every one From silken Samarcand to cedar'd Lebanon.

MEIOSIS: Understatement, the opposite of exaggeration: "I was somewhat worried when the psychopath ran toward me with a chainsaw." (i.e., I was terrified). Litotes (especially popular in Old English poetry) is a type of meiosis in which the writer uses a statement in the negative to create the effect: "You know, Einstein is not a bad mathematician." (i.e., Einstein is a good mathematician.) "That pustulant wart is somewhat unbeautiful" (i.e., That pustulant wart is ugly). Litotes is recognizable in English by negatives like not, no, non- and un-.)

SYNAESTHESIA (also spelled synesthesia, from Grk. "perceiving together"): A rhetorical trope involving shifts in imagery. It involves taking one type of sensory input (sight, sound, smell, touch, taste) and comingling it with another separate sense in an impossible way. In the resulting figure of speech, we end up talking about how a color sounds, or how a smell looks. When we say a musician hits a "blue note" while playing a sad song, we engage in synaesthesia. When we talk about a certain shade of color as a "cool green," we mix tactile or thermal imagery with visual imagery the same way. When we talk about a "heavy silence," we also use synaesthesia. Examples abound: "The scent of the rose rang like a bell through the garden." "I caressed the darkness with cool fingers." French poets, especially Baudelaire in Les fleurs du mal, have proven especially eager to use synaesthesia. The term itself is a fairly late addition to rhetoric and literary terminology, first coined in 1892, though examples of this figure of speech can be found in Homer, Aeschylus, Donne, Shelley, Crashaw, and scores of other writers and poets.

ZEUGMA (Greek "yoking" or "bonding"): Artfully using a single verb to refer to two different objects in an ungrammatical but striking way, or artfully using an adjective to refer to two separate nouns, even though the adjective would logically only be appropriate for one of the two. For instance, in Shakespeare's Henry V, Fluellen cries, "Kill the boys and the luggage." (The verb kill normally wouldn't be applied to luggage, so it counts a zeugma.) If the resulting grammatical construction changes the verb's initial meaning but is still grammatically correct, the zeugma is sometimes called syllepsis—though in actual practice, most critics use the general term zeugma to include both the grammatical and ungrammatical types interchangeably.

Source ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References

[solkver]

airdrop ⋆·˚ ༘ *

chapter 10... ᝰ.ᐟ what in the skibidi

content warnings! mostly written, nsfw themes, profanities, really long update under the cut!

✄┈┈┈┈ october 21, 2024 – 10:34 am

sohee sat next to anton, back straight, hands on his lap. even from a far, anyone could tell how tense and stiff he looked. It made you chuckle the slightest bit, endeared at how nervous the boy gets around you. not soon after, anton wedges his elbow on sohee's side, effectively making him groan.

"what the hell, anton?" sohee grumbles, a hand caressing his sides. anton only glares at sohee knowingly and then glances at you with the same glare. you shrug, you didn't do anything! as the noise died down and sohee had finally grabbed his laptop, you lean back onto the cushions of the seat and pull out your own things. despite the headphones wrapped around your head and the laptop on your lap, you could still see sohee steal shy glances at you.

✄┈┈┈┈ october 21, 2024 – 11:15 am

it's been about an hour since you had began placing beats together hoping for something good to come out of it until your headphones beep repeatedly. Irritated, you snatch the device off your head and look around to see everyone busy on their own thing. so much for being lucky.

one last look around, your eyes meet with sohee's. bingo. sohee physically starts to panic, thinking he had been caught staring. but that wasn't the deal, all you needed right now was a plug. you smile slowly at sohee still looking at you with wide eyes, mouthing a 'charger?'

sohee sputters, "I- uh-" hands visibly shaking as he digs through his backpack, pulling a white chord out and handing it to you as quick as he could "h-here." you give him a wider smile this time, swiftly glancing at anton and thanking every god he wasn't paying attention.

✄┈┈┈┈ october 21, 2024 – 10:20 pm

"eunseok is so gonna kill me when he finds out I'm opening the door for a stranger" sohee murmurs as he goes through their kitchen wear. seeing no real knife, sohee grumbles a frustrated sigh and grabs the butter knife.

he takes a couple deep breaths as he take slow steps to the front door, the butter knife in his hand pointed forward. with a shaking hand, he twists the knob open and pulls it wide open, instantly regretting that decision and squeals as he throws the door shut, "what the fuck!"

✄┈┈┈┈ october 21, 2024 – 10:41 pm

"baby?" you say behind the door, sohee still clutching his chest, butter knife now abandoned on the ground. "hold– hold on" sohee stutters, door slowly creaking open.

"hi, pretty boy" you smile once sohee comes into sight, taking a tentative step in to the complex. sohee shakily inhales, eyes not meeting yours as he steps aside, "h-hey, yn.." once the door was shut, you raise a brow over at sohee's direction, effectively making him squirm, "sorry I just– I get really nervous around you"

hearing what the younger said, a hearty laugh erupts from you, "you're so cute, really" sohee looks away, redness creeping from down his neck all the way up to his ears, teeth caught in his lips. you'd hate to kill the mood but the sight of sohee biting on his lips has your eyes wandering.

originally you had decided to not to do anything, realizing that the guilt of trying anything with your brother's best friend will eat you up alive. but with the sight in front of you– lee sohee in all his glory clad in a worn out shirt hanging off his shoulder and basketball shorts– really, the thought of missing out on this weighs more than your guilt.

"hey sohee.." you start, taking a bold step closer to the smaller boy, both hands making it's home on his hips, "can I kiss you?" sohee's eyes are blown wide, face an incredible shade of red, "I– that– w-would that be alright, with anton, I mean?" that alone had you rolling your eyes, "nevermind him, I'm asking you. can I kiss you, lee sohee?" and maybe it was the adrenaline, or the impatience, you really can't tell, but you couldn't wait for sohee's response before crashing your lips on his.

𓏔 i. MASTERLIST 𓏔 ii. BACK 𓏔 iii. NEXT

synopsis! bored sohee decides that airdropping memes at his best friend's gig would be the best way to kill the boredom. much to his luck, the drummer of his best friend's band, who he's been crushing on for years, is the one that got his meme airdropped to.

author's note! well.... how was it..... longest update yet.... don't jump me guys 😣 taglist still open!

taglist! @pinklemonade34 @luvkyu @naseobseob @kmusicreblogs @desafortuno @dontwannaexsist

© solkver 2024 - all rights reserved. please do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or share my work on other platforms. thank you.

[joannasteez]

the aftermath

pairing: tattooist!cm punk x reader warning: mentions of needles, and biting, and explicit descriptions and dialogue pertaining to sex. tattooist!punk (this warning is more for me cuz he makes me delusional sometimes) authors note: nothing really. just enjoy! if so, don't be afraid to let me know! inspired by @kill-the-artiste master class in ✨tension✨… please go read. RUN NOT WALK! word count: 3500 tagging: @333creolelady @harmshake @reebs-luvs-rhodes-and-wrestling @2-muchsauce

in for a penny of pain, in for a beauty by the pound

@ WARNING: all work is of quality but more importantly is done with respect to the bodies health and limits

the way your apartment window faces, you never get the sun till a ways after high noon. so no. this isn't your apartment. exhaustion playing in your legs. a good, sated, tired ache. like if you bend or extend too much too quick they'll cave in and collapse without warning. they'll remind you of how horrible it is, to make assumptions about a perceived strength. especially when it's so obvious that you aren't ready to leave the cool touch of his sheets. his. oh shit. because the bedroom in your apartment doesn't get much sun with the way it faces and it for damn sure isn't cream colored and littered with wood framed portraits. memory like a teasing trickle in of rain. little droplets collecting—his teeth grazing, the patient mischief of a wolf, sinking in to pull skin—till they ripple and pool together. a throb of something journeying to live between your thighs, swirling till it breaches skin again in an effect to make you shiver, to make you shift against the sheets because he,—"you can't stay still for shit can you?"—that's what he'd said. making rough impressions in your thick soft skin. holding and groaning and amused. buried amidst the pillow of your inner thighs, eager tongue dipping to lick against the desperate pulse of your clit. whimpers and moans and near shrill begging, and—oh God—your stomach swirls. embarrassment this deep exhale as your head falls in your hands. 

and for a second, the world plummets into something disgusting. a disturbing shade of gray. laughter breaking beyond the crack open of the bedroom door. because he could be laughing at you right? mulling over and recounting the events of the night with a buddy and having a go at making you miserable enough to delight in some fucked sort of amusement at the helpless way you moaned and teared for him. but thats not what it is. it's quiet chatter and early morning comedy. little hums of his early day coarse voice and a bold, earthy warmth. coffee. your mouth watering and the emptiness in your belly going about a great terrible violence as it growls and shudders. a hickory note of something twisting the air, the back of your throat dry, and seemingly—well...not seemingly, because that sort of implies some lack in surety. you'd made good, disgusting, honest, work of voicing just how much fun you were having. that much you remember, and fortunately, you remember everything. alcohol forgone for the sake of lucidity. because you know what he is. a buddy of yours just as clean and straightedged. 

in a fuller state of honesty, it'd be accurate to say it was all like form of reverence. an eagerness to please. anything if it meant him peeling your jeans off quickly. and yes, he'd done it. but it was more patient than you'd wanted. like he was reciprocating that reverence. studying and planning. 

his dresser draws are wooden, much like the rest of his decor. a polished mahogany that brings more warmth to the room. 

rolled up t-shirts sorted in no particular fashion, the fit of it snug as it falls over. 

at the corner foot of the dresser lays last nights underwear. a predetermined pick. simple, and black and lacy. nearly tattered to bits because his patience had eventually reached a max capacity before he dove headfirst into being a damn brute. 

underwear is a hot commodity when you ball on a budget. he owes you. 

you sift for something reasonable. a checkered pair of boxer briefs that fit more like boy-shorts, but it works. slipping your jeans over them. and his bathroom isn't so much huge but it is lived in. comfortable. the tiles, a sage green with minor cracks made more from age than from some man made disruption.

and thank God almighty. he's not the three-in-one type. a wash cloth and a toothbrush laying lonely along the bathroom counter, separate from the other things. you hum. going about a quick wash up. 

and whats that saying? it's only awkward if you make it awkward. because hell, there was nothing tricky or particularly delicate about fucking your tattooist right? you could do a small stint away. go cold turkey from your favorite past time. a silent walk of semi-shame and a few months till your next appointment would do the trick. enough time to forget such a destructive allure living with his words and the way he said—"you been waitin for this for a while huh? so pretty, lettin me touch you"—things. his every expression an accusation. exposing the unspoken things living behind just barely placid eyes. desires, fantasies and half baked plots for his attention.

the pain of a needle is no worser than this. cant be. cant be worser than the creak of the floors, announcing your entrance to the kitchen. his little chuckling smile forming less loose and more attentive as he drinks you in. an unabashed performance of observation that makes the skin crawl. a shiver really. green eyes cool, heavy, and exacting, like metal. like the prick of his needles. wandering with ease—your jean dressed legs, a clinging t-shirt that rides up some as you walk and the slow but sure appearance of indentations about your neck that indicate his penchant for tasting, biting —while stuck between a casual, early morning call and your performance of feigning indifference. 

he hums. a response to whoever is holding him over the phone. tongue slipping over his bottom lip before he's turning back to the stove.

coffee sits in a mug littered with dog breeds. the steam of it curling up thick. a plate half dressed next to it. just finished buttered toast and still hot eggs. his arm reaching over to drop bacon on it. teeth baring as he laughs into his call. flits of his eyes that motion for you to eat. stationing to lean against the long stretch of marble that makes up the kitchen island. a focused attention. assessing your quiet take to indulging in whatever this is. because he didn't need to make you breakfast, didn't need to brew you coffee and leave you comfortably tucked in the sheets. but then again, he'd more than generously put you to sleep. wore your nerves and bones down. rendered you to a bout of tears even. yeah. he owes you breakfast. your fork digging into the eggs. and a new pair of damn underwear. 

"yeah, i need you opening up shop for me today...", he gives. a sweet, feminine voice sighing deeply over the other end. loud and long enough to reach you. something in your stomach swirling odd and quite disgusting. sharp and twisted up. "...i'll be a little late, got caught up in something this morning...", the folding over of the words along his tongue giving your skin a chill. a ride of a shiver up your back. his eyes slipping over your face. a pale green leaving their edged, assessing, impressions. "...i owe you one...alright...", his thumb tapping the screen to end the call. 

the bacon is salty on the tongue. satisfies the nothingness on your palette. your fork poking dumbly. like you'll find brilliant words amidst the plate. a sick little smirk on his mouth. loving your inability to look at him without wavering. 

why in the absolute hell did you fuck this man? the fit of his boxer briefs odd under your jeans. poorly shaped to hips and thighs, the material not made to take that kind of stretch. 

"you owe me new underwear...", that declaration of it too feathered. not strong enough. not sure. his lips spreading more. joy taking his face up wholly. feeling it as he casts his eyes over you. "...i'll send a receipt or something...".

"noted. how do you like to take it?"

excuse me? your throat drying up. fingers clutching the fork tight. your belly flipping stupidly quick. too damn excitable. 

"what?"

the mug of coffee he'd poured for you in his hand. the sugar jar close by. spoon ready to be used for it's stirring purpose. an elation pouring from his cheeks that makes you want to curl in. "coffee". a slow, near patronizing reiteration. "how do you like to take your coffee". 

"oh...", breath a little caught in your throat. the unsettled frenzy under skin an oddity. because this very regular, slightly older, very good looking, self assured man, shouldn't have such an affect. "..um...a little sugar, a lot of cream". 

and he does it to perfection. listens and performs. giving short flits of his eyes to yours. stirring and assessing. an appraisal. your neck heating from the sensation of being examined. satisfaction brightening him up at such rough handy work made the night before. smug fucking asshole. that curling scrape of the spoon against coffee filled porcelain winding up your curiosities to a nagging degree. sensitivities under the skin too plain and forthright to ignore. too well suited actually. like they've taken up a comfortable residence after just one night of being made pliant. had others felt this way once upon a time? sat where you sit now? being made by themselves to snuff out the disgusting giddiness of some post-night spectacle. a green, rotten, world of a feeling in the pit of your stomach now. 

"do you—...", finding the phrasing, forming properly on the tongue, "...you usually get caught up in... things...like this?" 

a scoff but it's fully amused. his lips spreading, a chuckle slipping into words. "is that a 'do i regularly fuck my clients question', cause if so then no". the mug sliding along the marble island. coffee prepped pluming thick still. "you're the first. congrats". 

this fucking guy. "oh?"  that bite of irony in him, troubling the skin playfully, as if to lure you out from behind that disconcerting wall you've so diligently built, in an attempt to evade him. his eyes and that little smirk he feels the need to keep along his mouth. "i didn't realize you were some sort of prize". 

his head tilts, gaze slipping up and over and about. appraisal again. the look you give at the arrival of an object of affection, desire after some time. a satisfaction born from the restoration of a familiar, comfortable thing. your jaw shifting soft as you chew. lips pursing over the mug to sip tenderly. a drip of coffee falling off and away from your mouth. his pace quick as he plucks a napkin to hand you.

"i mean...", his body leaning in against the island. elbows pressing to the marble to bring him closer. his hair a little messy and untamed. "...i don't think so, but you were lettin a lot loose last night. little noises and such. i figured you were just so happy and satisfied...", grabbing his own mug to sip from. delighting in the silence, in the astonishment his teasing is leaving you to settle in. "...felt like you'd won something". 

your cheeks are warm. hot even. stomach suddenly full off of his domestic efforts of a hot breakfast. your fingers gingerly pushing the plate away towards him, but the pull and roll of your eyes speak of something a little more heated than some gingered, cautioned disposition. his cockiness doing awful work. irking your nerves and reeling you in just the same. and maybe it's your turn to appraise. to examine and assess. his early morning, kitchen attire very obviously calculated enough to bring about some dead-brained, teenaged, short circuiting. chest shirtless and his legs covered in mesh shorts. arms tatted and muscled. grays and dark brown hair like a fine patch work on his face. admirable things of course, but you've already, obviously, given yourself away in revealing how much of it you find appealing. he doesn't need more. 

an attempt to bruise should work. if not successful, at least give it a go right?

"you were alright", you shrug. chest hammering, near implosion. his eyes casting down, daring for an evasion. "i give it an A minus. there's always room for improvement". 

"ouch", he laughs. a wide, bright, light expression. dumping your finished plate into the sink. "if i knew i was getting tested on performance, i'd have strove for higher marks...". sipping from his mug again. a head shake to express disagreement. "...but some of the judgement here is a bit range-less...doesn't really grasp the full effect of my—"

"dick?"

you stiffen just after the leave of it. a thought never meant to be expelled but here you are, fighting the urge to curl in and hold your head. heart beating terribly hard. embarrassment rife. 

"...capabilities...but now i see where your heads at. i think this is grounds for some rescoring. you're impaired". 

"by what exactly?" 

he hums. that head tilt again. "you were a little eager last night, which, given how long you been wantin and schemin, is very understandable, but those good, true bits of judgement are from how well you can savor it right? you gotta stop and smell those roses". 

you scoff. "scheming is a reach". 

his eyes roll. pushing off the edge of the island. "an observation". shuffling back slightly to make a bodies worth of space. his hand motioning. "come here". 

"for what—"

"please", like he's sweetening the give of a request. an appeal. like he knows just the chord to strum to produce the work of some easier follow through. 

eyes softer but exacting. a clever lure in. like last night. like when he fit and slotted his mouth against yours and breathed deeply. fingers gentler and patient, pushing in to soothe the quake of your thighs. your body undone beneath him. performing a beautiful release with the song of all those little noises he couldn't help but to bring up now for his amusement. palms slipping between your legs then for more. to spread and curl. a dangerously steady feed in, swirling along the tender beginning of your pussy. toying and prodding, suckling your neck, and then a knuckle deep stroke that sorely excites already sensitive nerves. your legs pressing in to trap him to a stillness. his mouth at your ear. hot breaths, your skin shivering. a kiss to the shell of it before his delicate "please". that manner of request unfolding your legs easy. the simplicity of it forcing you to moan for him as he'd sought to take more from you.

your thighs press together hard, memory bursting till its coursing along every bit of skin. but you don't make to indulge him. testing the waters of this defiance. because he's obviously looking to stretch some authoritative muscle. "open, spread, be still", those the tender taste of his commands filling your mouth as he kissed you last night, and in your daze you complied swiftly. as eager as he'd said you did. the whole of him used to control. used to finely straddling lines of danger and succeeding well. what with his needles and their sharp, biting impressions. so no, you don't move, letting the thickness of the air settle deeper. playing at a naive rebellion done only by fragile little prey thought invincible. because this is it, isn't it? the thing that gets him going. sets his bones hot and fingers achy. 

it's a finger over licks of a fire, a push of the limit after already being burnt to a beautiful consumption. your brows pulling. hands palming your knees tight. "you bite". 

he smirks. bares teeth. steps calm to cover the distance. the patience of a wolf. "only upon request". 

his island chair is one that swivels. a short creak breaking as you turn to face him. laughing breathy, wry, shifting in place, searching for comfortability under the weight of his presence. his hard body slotting between your thighs. coffee on his tongue as he nears, mouth ghosting shy. his nose slipping at yours. a hard swallow in your throat as you feel him press in to wedge you against the chair and the island. "i never asked", a little docility to your voice. adverting your eyes, closing them, to refuse his own, another small performance. something refractory. his chest warm as you press forward into him. a hot hand running up along your back till its situating to cradle your nape. 

"you didn't oppose". 

his teeth sinking in to pull at your bottom lip. sharp enough for an abrupt wince. attempting to pry yourself from his grip, that palm at the base of your neck strong. corrective. short breaths huffing into his mouth as he kisses your lip. a light play at a remedy. the affection of it sweet and dotting enough that you rush in for more, much to his sudden displeasure. his throat humming, the confirmation of some long standing observation. the column of your neck warm from the run of his free thumb. that slip of a touch shivering you whole. hands gripping into the waist band of his shorts. knuckles aching. a terrible make at reprieve.

"being skittish is just a natural little condition of yours huh?" 

"no". your voice airy. feathered for him. 

"so just with me then?...", skimming his mouth at your cheek. a simple kiss to the apple of it. "...cause i can't really give you what you need when you're all excitable and eager like this...". another lingering kiss at the corner of your mouth. "...need some patience".

a near unbreathable daze forms about your head. eyes dim. the scent of him filling your nose till its blooming in your lungs. fingers curling and sweeping and releasing along his skin. at old tattoos and taut muscle. a pulse at the heart of your thighs that teeters your nerves on the verge of inconsolable. his fingers squeezing perfect at your neck. a purr of a moan in your mouth. "what else do i need?" 

his mouth slots for a full kiss, done up with breath and purpose. your palms holding firm at his waist for stability as he pulls you in. "a little direction". his tongue peaking to slip. a lazy lick at yours. your breath hitching at the wet curl of it. lips parting to receive. smirking as you whimper against him. "don't need you gettin distracted, then all of your attention gets eaten up by trivial little shit. you start making the real poor decisions then". 

"like pepsi logo tattoos...", you muse. "...and fucking your tattooist raw...", a languid, tongue filled kiss. air harsh through the nose to make up for the overtake of his mouth. the slipping noise of it lewd to the ears. makes your skin hot. hotter. urges erupting sure. a fragile hiss playing off your mouth, his teeth finding refuge over your lip again. a grunted moan hitting the air. his hands tucked under your knees, rushing to pull your thighs in, body at the edge of the island chair. you feed your tongue in again. eagerness unabated. "...you're not the first man with too many gray hairs trying to be my handler...", a snicker thats more like a scoff. a teasing tug at the waist band of his shorts again. making to release him but never getting to it. his mouth at your chin and your jaw, nipping and licking into your neck. "...i make your dick harder just a little more than all the others so now you want to manage me? make sure no one else is gettin in on this huh?..."

he digs into your leg. a harsh pinch that makes you jerk into him. "i'd only be offended if you didn't like me so much, didn't wanna fuck me so badly", his nose knocking into yours again. a bruising kiss by the firm pull of his lips. "something tells me you like a little correction...", a hand keeps your thigh cinched to him and the other releases your other leg to journey near the zipper of your jeans. "...being commended". 

his middle and ring fingers venture between. a faint circling where your jeans cover over the throb of your clit. the pace and patience of his touching and his mouth quaking your bones. irritated with an eagerness he seems to want to handle so insistently. 

his phone rings. 

you whine in protest. the slip away of him abrupt and emptying as he fishes for the phone. 

"relax", he muses. kissing the corner of your mouth. 

but he answers anyways. settles into the call so much till his brows pull. a focus that leads into that faithful disappointment of having to prioritize. green eyes casting over. taking stock of your face. his thumb soothing your lip, just where he'd bitten. 

the emptiness grows, occupying this shitty liminal space. and it only gets worse. the neediness he'd corralled snuffed out quick. something about "forgotten early appointments" and "taking you where you need to go". 

there are many valuable little notes to give to the self. an unwieldy feeling under the skin as you make to get your belongings. going about a terrible attempt of acting like he wasn't just about to give you a three-peat of last nights little fun. so close to feeling all of him just meticulously fed into you. 

the biggest note of all though. toughing your shoes on. annoyance playing unabashed. don't fuck your tattooist. 

[bless-my-demons]

Redamancy: Chapter Eight

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: None except for like one cuss word

Notes: Hot off the press - I just spent my day packing my house up to move tomorrow and I’m up past midnight to get this out... You guys have been so freaking supportive and I’m excited for this story to pick up!

Word Count: 3158

Series Masterlist

• March 11th, 2005 • Forks High School •

Reader

“Emotions.” Jasper says by way of greeting, placing his backpack on the picnic table that no doubtibly contains his art supplies.

“Everyone has them, yes?” I reply, my forehead wrinkling in confusion at his peculiar single-word statement.

“I can control them.” He answers, visibly nervous as if he were afraid he just opened a can of worms.

I watch him pull out his well-worn sketchbook and pencils as I decide how to respond to this new bit of information.

“Say something, doll.” Jasper looks almost pleading, worry setting in on his face.

“How does it work?” I question him, I’m in shock that he volunteered such important information in the middle of a school day at lunch as if it were a typical topic to talk about.

“Well, it started off as just being able to sense the emotions of humans and vampires in my vicinity,” he lets out a sigh as he begins shading whatever it is he’s working on. “Then I quickly figured out I can influence them. I can either enhance what someone is already feeling, take away their emotions altogether, or replace them entirely and give them something completely different.”

“W-wow,” I stutter, “that’s honestly impressive.” I raise my eyebrows as his eyes meet mine.

“I can also do small things since I’ve had time to hone my power, like it’s easy to find people I’m familiar with in a crowded area, within a reasonable distance. As long as I can get to know the person, orient myself with their emotions, it’s quite easy.” He glances down at his drawing as he finishes his explanation.

“That has to be rough, feeling everything everyone else is feeling all the time. You can turn it off though, right?” I muse out loud, I can’t imagine having a power that doesn’t come with an ‘off’ switch.

“Unfortunately I can’t, my family is usually pretty good at regulating the intensity of their emotions when we’re gathered at home. At school though… Sitting out here alone with you during lunch is a welcome reprieve.” Jasper turns back to his sketch as he admits that last tidbit of information.

“Do any of your other siblings have super powers like you?” I tease him, not ready to dive into that nugget of information about how spending time with me makes him feel.

“Rosalie and Emmett don’t, neither do Carlisle and Esme. Unless you want to count the staggeringly strong self-control my adoptive father possesses.” Jasper pauses, “Alice can see the future, subjectively though - she has to be searching for that person’s intent and as long as they make a decision, she can see it and the immediate effects. Edward on the other hand, can-“ but he’s interrupted by the bell signaling the end of the lunch period.

“You’re not off the hook now that you’ve enlightened me, I expect to finish this conversation.” I tell him as I stand and meet him on the sidewalk leading towards the school building.

“I would never leave business unfinished with a lady.” He says rather cheekily, trying to get a rise from me, but all it earns him is a huff of a laugh as we walk in a comfortable silence.

“Thank you for sharing that information with me, I promise not to tell anyone.” I vow soberly, meeting his eyes as we stand outside of my next class.

“I was never worried.” Jasper replies, backing away as students finish milling about in the hallway. “See you in History, darlin’.”

I could feel his eyes on me as I stood in front of my open locker, quickly shuffling through the books I needed for my last class of the day. It’s almost like his gaze seemed to burn me alive as I felt it travel across my skin, the hair on the back of my neck rose due to my heightened state of awareness I had towards this gorgeous man. Does he know the effect he has? Is he even aware that I am utterly at his mercy? I hate to fall in line with all the other girls that must throw themselves at his feet, most of them much prettier than I, so why me? Why does he want to take me on a date?

I glance over my shoulder in the direction I know his own locker is in and sure enough, liquid gold is locked onto its target. A steady unwavering gaze stares back, so solid and intense that it constricts my chest for a moment with the pure force of it.

I turn back to my locker and grab a pen before slamming the door shut, the warning bell signaling one minute before everyone still occupying the hallway is tardy. As I turn to hurry my way to History, Jasper has made his way to stand right behind me.

“Do you like baseball?” He blurts out quickly, as if to not lose his nerve.

“It’s probably the only sport I understand, so yeah. Why?” I counter, tilting my head in question.

“My family and I were thinking of playing a game Sunday. Would you like to tag along and spectate? Bella Swan will be there, I’m sure she would love your company.” Jasper tacked on the last part as if I needed more reason to go than just spending time with him.

“As if I could say no to you and your family.” I tell him with a smile.

“Good, so you’ll want to meet them tomorrow?” He asks with more confidence than the last request, slowly taking steps backwards down the empty hall and I gravitate with him.

My mind blanks, not prepared to be sprung with such a big step in… whatever is happening between us. First he tells me he wants to take me out on a date, now I’m meeting his family? Is this some lucky alternate universe where the insanely attractive boy falls for the incredibly average girl?

No-no way, friends bring their friends over to meet their entire family before a family outing, right?

“I-I-uh-“

“Noon tomorrow, they’ll love you.” Disappearing around the corner of the hallway with a smirk in place, probably because I was gaping at him in the middle of an empty hall.

I glance around - an empty hallway! I’m late for class! I can’t even be mad, Jasper Hale has effectively monopolized my weekend and I’m more than happy about it.

• March 11th, 2005 • Home •

Reader

“Hey, mom?” I ask, poking my head in her open bedroom door.

“Yes, sweetheart?” Putting down the book she was reading and pushing up her reading glasses, my mother sits up in bed to give me her full attention.

“So,” I take a seat at the end of her bed, “Jasper Hale invited me to his house tomorrow, to have dinner with his family and just hang out I guess.”

“Oh?” My mother sounds intrigued, eyebrows raising. “A date with a cute boy?”

“Not a date!” I immediately correct her, “it’s just dinner, or whatever.”

She laughs as I pick at her bedspread. “Honey, of course you can go, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Well…”

“Well, what?” She questions.

“He also asked if I wanted to play baseball Sunday with his fa-“

“You? Play baseball?” She blurts out, incredulously.

“Mom!” I draw out the word. “He’s invited me to hang out with his family this weekend - you’ll be cool, right? When he picks me up? No interrogating?”

“Me? Interrogate the cute boy stealing my daughter for a weekend? I wouldn’t dream of embarrassing you.” She teases me with a wink.

I stand and begin to leave, “You are insufferable, woman.”

“I love you, sweetheart!” She yells after me as I round the corner to my room. Flopping onto my bed with a smile, I’m both giddy and equally nervous for the next two days.

• March 12th, 2005 • Cullen Residence •

Reader

“This is my adoptive father Carlisle and his wife Esme.” Gesturing to the two beautiful adults patiently waiting in the foyer as we walk in their home.

Thankfully my mom was at work when Jasper picked me up, giving me another day to prepare myself for the potential train wreck of them meeting tomorrow.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Cullen.” I give them a smile as I shake their hands.

“Trust me dear, the pleasure is all ours!” Esme responds excitedly, her smile wide and beaming.

“The others are in the living room, beware of what you’re throwing her into.” Carlisle warns Jasper with a smile.

Throwing me into? I glance up at Jasper with my brows furrowed, a little concerned.

“C’mon, I’ll protect you.” He jokes with me, I must be missing the punchline.

As he leads me to the living room in his house, I gape at the beautiful artwork spaced throughout. “This is gorgeous, Jasper.”

“Esme is pleased you like it.”

Not having heard his mom speak, I turn from where I was ogling a painting that appeared to be ancient. “But she-“

“Can hear you from her study and I can feel her emotions, remember?” He winks at me, show off.

Finally we walk into the space where his siblings are and I realize what Carlisle meant: Mario Kart.

Alice and Emmett are sitting on the edge of the couch, deep in concentration while Rosalie seems bored from her perch in the corner by her significant other.

“You’re fucking cheating!” Emmett bellows, frantically mashing buttons on his controller.

“It’s not cheating if you’re playing someone that sucks.” Alice taunts him, a wicked grin on her face.

“You can see the future Alice, cut him some slack.” Jasper chides his sister as he leads me to an empty section of the couch.

My eyes widen in amusement as I observe the small dark haired girl, “That’s right! You can-“

“See everything I try to do!” Emmett yells, frustration setting in as his character is hit with a shell.

It’s almost laughable, Emmett’s character Bowser and Alice as Princess Peach. I sit down next to Jasper, a few inches between us as I cross my legs and he lays an arm behind me on the back of the couch. I try to keep my breathing even as I sit here, but the excitement to be spending time with him is almost overwhelming.

I watch as Princess Peach zaps the other players into miniature size and Rose reminds Emmett not to throw yet another remote at the ground, when Jasper leans in close.

“Want a tour of the house?” He asks in a whisper, creating goosebumps down my arms.

“Yes.” I respond, probably sounding breathless, but he’s standing and offering his hand before I have the chance to feel embarrassed.

“And this is my room.” His tour coming to an almost close, since I’m still patiently waiting for a peak at all their cars.

I walk in the doorway he pointed to, stopping just inside. My eyes were immediately drawn to the bookshelves lining the wall opposite of the floor-to-ceiling windows that seemed to be a theme throughout the house. His room was much darker than all the others, warm and inviting with the shades of black and dark wood tones. Stepping closer and skirting the immaculately made king size bed, my eyes close in on some familiar titles on the shelves.

“I always see you reading and since I have quite a bit of free time, I thought I’d pick up a few.”

I turn to look at him with my mouth parted in surprise at his thoughtfulness, his hands are clasped behind his back like he’s bashful for getting found out.

“Jasper-“ but he interrupts me.

“The garage is next.” I watch him turn on his heel and disappear down the hallway.

I look down and brush my fingers on his black comforter as I smile to myself before following him, so Jasper Hale isn’t immune to his own feelings - he just doesn’t like to show them.

Walking into the garage, my eyes skip over the beautiful cars and land on a sleek little thing in the back. A Ducati 848 to be exact, it draws me in like a magnet. Immediately I knew it had to belong to Jasper, no one else seemed like the type. Rose had her red convertible, Emmett had his Jeep, and Edward had his mom-car. Alice and Esme didn’t bother with vehicles and Carlisle had a reasonable, albeit expensive, commuter.

“Wow,” my voice quiet as my fingers brushed the gas tank, “I’m impressed, Hale.”

“You know bikes?” Jasper asks with a hint of curiosity.

“Not really, but I know enough to know that this Ducati is basically a rocket and that it must’ve cost you a pretty penny.” I replied, eyes still glued to the beautiful machinery. “Why didn’t you tell me you drove a motorcycle?”

“Not many parents let their ‘teenager’ drive death traps around.”

“Touché.” I pause, “Take me for a ride?” Swinging my leg over to straddle the beast, I lean over the tank and glance at Jasper.

I know I’ve successfully distracted him by the amount of time it takes for him to respond. Grinning, I sit back and look at him expectantly.

“Absolutely not, darlin’. No way I’m risking-“

“You have safety gear, don’t you?” I tease him as I get off and walk behind him to snag the helmet placed on the counter along the back wall.

Jasper groans and tilts his head back in mock-frustration as he fishes the keys from his pocket. I squeal as I pull the helmet on and hop excitedly towards the bike.

“You’re wearing my protective gear or no deal, sweetheart.” He lays down the law as he stalks over to a cabinet, retrieving a thick coat and gloves.

I almost protest, but he’s pulling the jacket over my arms and zipping it up my chest leaving me breathless before I know what’s happening. Even with the helmet covering my face, I’m sure he senses the heat in my cheeks as he finishes checking me over.

“You sure about this?” Jasper asks, finding my eyes under the visor with his supernatural vision.

“Are you sure about this?” I counter, the unease floating around is practically choking me in this enclosed space before it vanishes in a snap.

He flips up my visor, “Riding with someone requires trust-“

“I trust you, Jasper Hale. Completely and without any reservations or doubt in your abilities to keep me safe.” I swear my words stunned him, his mouth parted slightly as I blurted the confession. As if he realized the doubt that was flowing earlier was from him and not me.

“You are…”, he mutters his response low enough that I can’t hear as he swings a leg over the motorcycle and turns to me seriously. “Number one rule, don’t let go of me. Lean with me on turns and stay tucked in. If you need to stop, tap on my chest. Any questions, doll?” Jasper asks.

“Where are we going?” I climb on behind him and scoot close enough to wrap my arms around his waist lightly, this is the first opportunity I’ve had to be this close to him and it’s amazing. I let out a small gasp when he grabs the backs of both knees to tug me closer, bracketing my hips around his to tuck me in close. He then grabs my arms and places them over his chest, the side of my helmeted head coming to rest on his large back.

“You’ll just have to wait and see, ready?” I feel a teasing chuckle rumble in his chest, so I simply nod, excitement tingling all over from where my body touches his.

The Ducati roars to life in the enclosed space and I feel it lean to the right as Jasper taps the garage door button on the wall to open our exit. My arms squeeze him a little tighter as we launch forward down the driveway, I’m tempted to wave to Esme smiling from the porch, but I decide against it remembering his number one rule of not letting go.

This is single-handedly the best idea I’ve ever had.

Jasper

This girl will be the death of me, I know it for certain.

She could ask me to bring her the moon and I would have it in her hands in a heartbeat. Taking her out on my motorcycle? Easy in theory, extremely difficult in practice. I’ve never felt as I do right now with her arms around me, her completely pressed against my back and squeezing me at every jolt and turn I make.

Heaven and Hell, having my greatest temptation in such close proximity.

She trusts me. Completely and without doubt - her fucking words. I’m positively speechless, I’ve never had someone to myself that trusted me so wholly without needing any kind of explanation or-or proof-

And her leaning over my bike in the garage? I nearly swerve us right off the road thinking about the arch in her back, the way her chest pressed against the tank, her toes barely able to touch the ground… it took nearly every ounce of control to remain rooted while she was seated atop my motorcycle.

My only regret is not showing her the garage sooner, that image of her will forever be seared into my mind. On second thought, I’m sure my mental images were extremely loud and clear in the garage - it’s a mystery how Edward can manage to be around the couples in our family. For me at least, the emotions get too much sometimes and I need breaks.

I’ve noticed that I’ve needed them less and less since Y/n literally slammed her way into my life - breaks from everyone else that is. She not only elicits a physical reaction that no one else has ever managed to coax out of me, but she has also become a mental safe-haven. Being around her energy is as easy and mindless as breathing, if only I could breathe around her without inhaling molten lava. Everything about her completely consumes me, tears me apart and builds me back up, unmakes and makes me over and over, infinite bliss and unending torture. My singer, her blood is a symphony and I am her rapt audience hanging on to every beautiful note and praying for an encore.

My singer.

The revelation clangs through my soul and grants my body with a new purpose; her. She is mine to protect, from this day onward. My left hand reaches up to anchor myself where Y/n’s hands rest on my chest, her arms not quite long enough for her fingers to meet in the middle. I smile to myself, maybe I can allow myself this one bit of happiness, to let her in.

Next

[mncxbe]

can i request dazai x reader where the two end up getting side tracked on a mission and end up kissing and stuff the entire time . and reader is nervous because they know kunikida will KILL them if he found out but dazais just chill

oh my I absolutely loved writing this. Also I imagined dazai in that pretty suit he wore at the end of season 3. I hope it's what you were looking for♡ Enjoy

9:31♡

𝑫𝒂𝒛𝒂𝒊 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: fluff♡/ passionate kisses?

It was usual for Dazai to skip work or do the bare minimum. He's good at reading people and he can solve any case in only a few minutes so why bother putting in some extra effort when he can spend time with you instead?

That being said, when the time came for you two to go on a mission, he was more than prepared to slack off.

"Don't worry darling" he said in a playful tone "Let's just enjoy ourselves. After all we finally have privacy"

You were currently sitting at a table at the far end of the dim lit room. The beautifully ornated lampshades were casting dark shadows on the walls; the smell of tobacco filling the room. The restaurant was chic, quite elegant but secluded, exactly the place criminals choose to meet to discuss business.

A few days ago Kunikida received a tip from one of his informants: two underground organizations were planning to join forces in order to rob a bank and they would meet at that certain restaurant to discuss the details. Naturally, your job was to eavesdrop on their conversation and report everything back to Kunikida. Your superior even made a reservation for the table next to their and allowed you to buy a bottle of expensive wine to set the scene.

That said wine was now being poured in your glass by your boyfriend. "I really can't believe that Kunikida was this generous" he chuckled

"Well, it would be suspicious if we just stood here and did nothing"

"Good point darling"

The two of you clinked glasses just as your targets entered the room.

"Osamu, they're here" you spoke lowly. Your boyfriend nonchalantly looked over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of the two men through the wooden shade that separated your tables.

"And now the party starts" He took another sip of his drink, resting his arm over your shoulders.

The targets ordered something and immediately began discussing their plan, not minding the fact that there were people around them; so it was quite easy for you to hear what they were saying. However, only a few minutes later, Dazai's fingers started ghosting over your thigh.

"Tell me, dear. Are you enjoying the wine?"

"Sshhh" you snapped at him "I'm trying to listen"

Your sudden outburst amused him, a sly smile making its way to his lips. "Why so serious, hon? Just relax a bit." He leaned in, cold lips leaving a trail of soft kisses along your neck.

You tried to protest again but he wouldn't buy it. He could tell by the way your pulse incresed that you were as eager as him. You slowly batted your lashes as he tilted your chin to the side, exposing your neck even further. Dazai's lips were warm and wet against your skin, his occasional needy moans driving you crazy. You snapped out of it when his hand slid up your thigh. Your fingers instinctively wrapped around his wrist, pushing his hand away.

"Dazai, can we please focus? Kunikida is going to kill us if we mess this up and~"

He suddenly pressed his lips against yours, earning a muffled moan from you. His arms snaked around your waist as he pulled you closer, teeth nibbling at your lower lip. You felt your body get hotter with each second that passed; the taste of red wine on his lips shutting down your senses. Dazai's kisses always had this effect on you. As soon as his lips pressed against yours, all sounds became distorted, as if you were underwater and all you could do was melt into his embrace.

You kissed for a good number of minutes until you heard the men behind you yell.

"Oi, you two. Get a room for fuck's sake" they cursed. You suddenly became aware of the position you were in, your cheeks taking on a red tint.

"We're so sorry, sirs I~"

"Just shut it, woman" they spoke again before returning to their conversation.

"Assholes" you mumbled under your breath as you turned to face your boyfriend, who was grinning at you.

"See now, bella. Maybe you should be more quiet next time." You didn't find his remark amusing in the slightest, but all you did was pout as you tried to focus on what the targets were saying.

Unfortunately, the two men asked the waitress for the bill, threw a stack of money on the table and left. A sudden wave of despair took over you and you started panicking.

"Shit I didn't catch the time and place. I'm done, I'm so done. I'm gonna get fired"

"Bella, it's alright" Dazai said in a soothing voice, placing a hand on your shoulder "You're lucky you have such an amazing partner, you know? I have all the information we need here" he continued, gently patting his head with a finger.

You exhaled deeply and allowed yourself to rest in his comforting embrace. "Thanks, Osamu. You're amazing. But please, next time don't distract me like that"

"How about you don't let yourself be distracted, pretty girl?"

A scoff left your lips as you rolled your eyes. Your boyfriend chuckled and downed the last sips of wine. "And what now? The mission is done and we still have half a bottle left. It'd be a shame if it went to waste." His slender fingers caressed your thigh again, making you shiver in anticipation "How about we finish the rest at home?"

"Sounds wonderful, dear" you replied in a honeyed voice "But we have to write the report first"

He kissed you one more time, a soft peck that melted your heart "I believe that can wait 'till tomorrow morning, darling"

[fleurlumii]

BOY DAD ASHER HEADCANNONS!!!! (because it’s Father’s Day where i live rn so yea why not :3)

Oh and I decided to color-code these now too cause they look more fun that way

- Boy dad Asher who has an ongoing, very fierce rivalry with his son over which of them is Babe’s #1 (they assure them that they’re both #1 but the boys tend to get a lil bit too competitive, especially their son lmao)

- Boy dad Asher who plays pranks on David with his little boy as his willing accomplice (i.e one time during Halloween, they tag-teamed through Asher ringing on the doorbell & distracting David while his little boy quickly scurries inside as soon as David opens the door to steal all his trick-or-treating candy)

- Boy dad Asher who buys a toy pistol for his son (along with some cool matching mini shades too) & they both play pretend as the most badass Shaw Security duo who serve as Babe’s most trusted and loyal bodyguards. their little boy makes sure that he won’t let any harm get in Babe’s way whatsoever, even going as far as to “shoot” anyone who tries to talk to them (even Asher himself, who gladly complies with a dramatic grunt as he “dies”) with a daring “bang bang!” sound effect

- Boy dad Asher who tears up a bit (either from laughter or bewilderment) after hearing his son trying to imitate his deep, raspy voice while talking to the other adults in the pack. he feels a great sense of pride if they tell his son “you’re shaping up to be just as an amazing Beta as your father!”, though he snorts a bit if they mention that he might even overthrow David as Alpha

- Boy dad Asher to attempts to teach his little boy how to play Destiny after he sees him playing it, though it proves to be quite difficult for a five-year-old kid to comprehend quickly & easily. so instead, his son just watches him play all while cheering very loudly whenever he kills someone and calling their opponents “very mean” names through the microphone (Asher loves his opponents’ reactions to thinking they got obliterated by a little kid)

- Boy dad Asher who lets his little boy ride on his back on his shifted form and they go on long runs outside. sometimes they come back home really late at night so they have to do their best to move as quietly as they can to not wake Babe up (they don’t do a very good job at that with all the loud shushing, giggling, and bumping into things despite their heightened wolf senses)

- Boy dad Asher who (very loudly) sings along all sorts of songs in the car with his little boy with the windows rolled down. the songs could literally range from something as silly as Baby Shark, whimsical Disney songs such as Circle of Life from The Lion King & You’re Welcome from Moana to something as passionate as Wake Me Up Inside by Evanescence and Alone by Heart

- Boy dad Asher who, after his son gets into trouble at school for getting into a fight with some bullies who were picking on another kid, sees him hanging his head and holding back tears with a small bruise on his little cheek which breaks his heart (it reminded him a bit of Darlin’ when they were younger). he hugs him tight and assures him that he did the right thing (and jokingly asks if he won after ensuring that he’s okay)

- Boy dad Asher who pauses for a brief moment before letting out a soft chuckle and simply ruffling his son’s hair after declaring that he “wants a super duper cool scar too” after seeing the one on his chest

silly 😜

[castellankurze]

ok but for real FF14 fans we gotta talk about the next 20 years in Eorzea cause it's gonna be wild

*There's gonna be some general Shadowbringers & Endwalker spoilers in this post.*

I'm making this now because something in 6.5 reminded me of this idea - no spoilers for 6.5 in particular though.

------------------------------------

So first, quick refresher: the FF14 setting has a pretty standard for the genre afterlife wherein souls of the dead merge with the planet's lifestream, they beat about for awhile, maybe ruminate on their past life, and then they can either merge with the greater whole or be reborn as new people. This got outlined all the way back in the 2.x patch series and became a major part of the plot for the Shadowbringers expansion, wherein the Warrior of Light is revealed to be a reincarnation of the ancient soul of Azem, or how the character Gaia is also a reincarnation of one of the Ascians.

Also a major part of the Shadowbringers plot are the revelations about the secret history of the world. How in forgotten ancient times, civilization threatened by a calamity called the Final Days offered up hundreds or possibly thousands of souls to create the god that would be known as Zodiark who would preserve the world, and how in time the goddess Hydaelyn would be created as an opposition to Zodiark's power. And that she ultimately sundered him into 14 pieces - and because Zodiark's nature was fundamentally tied into the essence of the world, when he was broken so too was the very planet and every living soul upon it, divided into the singular 'Source' and thirteen 'shards.' As part of Shadowbringers' plot, the character of Ardbert is revealed to be the First-shard part of the soul of the Warrior of Light, reuniting near the end of 5.0, and to villain Emet-Selch, these sundered souls are a pitiful shadow of the powerful, vibrant beings they once were in ancient times, unworthy of life.

Now here's where things get interesting.

During the course of our Endwalker adventures, we reach the lunar prison where the body of Zodiark is held captive. Due to some villainous machinations, the ancient god's bonds have been partially broken and his essence is leaking out, taking the form of ancient shades wandering about. One in particular we speak to is named Hythlodaeus. We had previously met this character - sort of, in the form of a memory conjured by Emet-Selch. This is the true Hythlodaeus, an ancient soul sacrificed to bring Zodiark into being. Despite joining the multitude of souls and the long slumber in imprisonment, he's coherent and holds a conversation.

Unsurprisingly, as the main character of a Final Fantasy title we go on to kill our setting's oldest god, and in so doing get a good look at the effect of the sundering on Zodiark: namely that in his case it was pretty literal, splitting off pieces of his body. However the interesting part of the Endwalker's implications is that while Zodiark was sundered, the individual souls that made up his being were not - after this confrontation we see and speak to our old new friend Hythlodaeus again, and again, both in a journey to the distant past and as we call up his soul for aid at the climax of the story...and he's the same person every time.

This...strongly hints that the myriad of ancient, unsundered souls which made up the bulk of Zodiark's essence have returned to the lifestream, and while major characters like Hythlodaeus, Emet-Selch and Venat seem content to leave the cycle of reincarnation for good and pass the world on to us modern folk...is that going to be true for everyone?

Are there, in fact, dozens - hundreds - thousands of Ancient, unsundered souls milling about in the aetherial sea, contemplating a return to the living world? Will the world of Etheirys over the next few years see a sudden wave of children with incredible power as these souls start to be reborn? Will the Warrior of Light, a soul merely eight times rejoined, be eclipsed in sheer strength by the might of a new generation?

The story will probably never go to such a place - after all it would essentially undo the themes of its two biggest expansions, and besides which, the story of FF14 as a whole will probably not venture so many years down the timeline to explore such a possibility.

But still. They say everything old is someday new again.

[bluecatwriter]

I watched the Wildhorn/Black/Hampton Dracula rock opera!

Okay, okay, okay. As some of you know, one of the guys in my theater troupe got me comp tickets to see him in Dracula: The Musical. You guys. It was an EGREGIOUS adaptation that didn't even make narrative sense on its own terms. I also had a TOTAL BLAST. 

If you like the musical, no shade to you— please just keep scrolling and like what you like! However, I had so many thoughts about this that I had to word-vomit about it, and thought some of you might have fun reading my thoughts on the good, the bad, and ugly for 3,000 words.

TL:DR: Very fun experience, so glad I went, the play's narrative choices make me want to throw hands in a Denny's parking lot, much dunking/adaptation-hate ahead, my friends are amazing, I'm writing my own play now.

(CW discussion of rape, ableism, drug use, suicide)

-First of all, everyone take a moment to appreciate my eyeliner. I do not usually draw eyeliner that well so I was very proud of myself.

-I went with my sister, since we both knew people in the cast. (I thought we knew three, but we actually knew four: the actors who played Dracula, Mina, Lucy, and Quincey.) My sister didn't know anything about Dracula except what she'd picked up from my incoherent ramblings (which I generally keep to a minimum around her). 

-It was a black-box theater, which I didn't expect: six or so rows of chairs on each side of the theater, facing each other across the relatively small room, with the stage in the middle and a live orchestra (!!!) on one end. The set was a minimalist Gothic castle design, with windows, a freestanding moving wall, and a large platform that, throughout the play, served as Dracula's coffin, a table, Lucy's bed, Lucy's coffin, and just a general place to stand and sing in a badass way. I absolutely LOVE black box shows because they're so intimate: you can almost reach out and touch the actors, and you can see every minute facial expression and gesture, the light glittering in their eyes, and so on. (Acting in a black box theater is much more like movie acting because the audience can see what you're doing with your eyes in a way that regular theater doesn't allow, meaning that things like eye contact between characters is much more electric and effective.)

-The sound design and lighting effects were doing a lot of heavy lifting in this show, and they nailed it. Very spooky!

-The play began with the weird sisters, and they were consistently my favorite part of the play— the actresses killed it (ha), bringing an intense, spooky energy to the story, often serving as narrators, background singers, extras, special effects handlers (such as portraying the wreck of the Demeter), and the physical manifestation of Dracula's will/presence. They were AWESOME.

-I had decided in advance that this play was a fanfiction written by Dracula about himself, and nothing about the show dissuaded me from this idea. The guy who played Dracula served major cunt from the moment he stepped onstage, wearing leather pants with laces up the side and a big sweeping coat and a huge amount of eyeliner that really brought out his unnervingly blue eyes. ("All guys should wear eyeliner and leather pants," I joked to my sister after the show, and she responded, with the most haunted look I've ever seen, "I agree about the eyeliner, but not the pants. I lived in San Francisco for three years, and you know not what you speak of. There are things I cannot unsee.")

-Actually, to be honest I liked Dracula's characterization (until the end; see below); whether because of the director or the actor or both, this version really did not downplay what a bastard he is. He was incredibly ruthless, in all senses of the word: focused on a single goal and not caring who got mowed down in the process. Anytime his sung lines talked about him being lonely or sad or whatever, the actor played it off as him trying to garner sympathy from his listener, rather than expressing his true feelings, which was a directing/acting choice I really appreciated.

-When Jonathan came on stage (from the door just a few feet away) I nearly squealed with delight! He just RADIATED "biggest sweetheart you've ever met" energy: tall and lanky and with a scruffy lil beard and clothes that didn't quite fit. I was in love with him from the beginning. Also he got to mention his Kodak camera, and I remembered that I could not actually cheer at moments like that because that would be weird.

-The Dracula-Mina "romance" was introduced very early, which I appreciated; from a storytelling perspective, it was good to have that continuous thread. Dracula looks at a picture of Mina, mentions how young she is, asks Jonathan if she is "pure," and then decides that they're soulmates. It was SO PERVY. Once again, I loved the Dracula characterization. If only it had stayed one-sided…

-I was fortunately warned that in this version Jonathan takes the crucifix off so the weird sisters can continue attacking him, but I still had to suppress a "BOOOOO!" (I did whisper "NOT CANON!" to my sister, and later she said that when that happened in the play she was like, "Oh, okay, I don't care what happens to this guy now.") But I guess it did have the effect of making him less sympathetic, which served the story the play was trying to tell.

-I was pleased that there was a Drac-drinking-from-Jonathan scene, and consistent with the storytelling, Drac had a whole song about how he needs Jonathan's blood so he can be young and hot and go seduce Mina (which, again, fits with the story they were telling). They decided not to have any sexual tension between Dracula and Jonathan, so the blood-drinking scene was pretty brutal (complimentary)— Jonathan laid out on the platform with Drac just. gnawing on his neck while Jonathan writhed and convulsed. It was still kinda hot though not gonna lie

-Lucy's characterization at first was pretty interesting, because her song about the three suitors (and the directing/acting) made it seem like she was just kinda stuck with three mediocre choices, and chose the least offensive one (Arthur, who she describes as boring and can't even think of one nice thing to say about him) and tried to convince herself that she would be happy. This was honestly the biggest moment where I had to just squirm in my seat to keep from actively booing. Don't be so mean 2 my boy! From a storytelling perspective, it wasn't clear at all why she chose Arthur, because Quincey was the only one of the suitors who had any personality at all (even Jack was bland. JACK. WAS BLAND. YOU COULDN'T HAVE HIM SIT ON HIS HAT OR AT LEAST FIDDLE WITH HIS LANCET? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU???). Anyway, Arthur was actually totally fine after that song (and had some nice lines in the group songs).

-Meanwhile, Drac is creeping on Mina by entering her thoughts without her consent and being like, "We're soulmates," and she just…. goes along with it???? With literally no rhyme or reason to her decision???? I know some of this is that I hate the whole concept of soulmates, but I expected at least SOME justification for why she was interested in him. There was no indication she was unhappy with Jonathan; there was no hint of any emotional connection; there wasn't even some weird "reincarnated lover" story to try to soften how incredibly strange it felt that Mina was randomly in love with this guy's voice in her head. His baritone is sexy BUT IT IS NOT THAT SEXY. GIRL PLEASE.

-In this version Dracula bites Lucy because he's trying to call Mina to him and Lucy comes by accident and he's like, "Well, nothin' I can do about that. CHOMP." Which, again, I honestly liked this characterization because he's not apologetic about who he is; he is just destroying everyone in his way and not caring about them as people. He just has a goal and he'll do anything to reach it.

-Then of course Lucy's like, "Oooh that was actually so sexy and I never want to wake up from that dream of him chomping on my throat." The directly seemed to imply that being bitten by a vampire just. instantly turns you into something that's not yourself, so I could kinda excuse it if I squinted, but it was still pretty icky.

-Renfield got to stab Jack! My sister felt sorry for Jack (because all his unethical science got shaved off in this adaptation) and I was just like, "YESSS RENFIELD YOU GO!" 

-Jonathan shows up again, in a wheelchair (a really cool old-fashioned one), and Mina goes to marry him, and their marriage is paralleled with Lucy and Arthur's while Drac looms in the background. The double wedding was a nice staging choice, although the optics of Mina somewhat reluctantly marrying disabled Jonathan while abled Dracula is standing by being All Sexy was… uh, it was not great. But on the plus side, maybe it emphasizes the ableism that a lot of people have toward Jonathan's disabilities in the story, bringing them out into the open? (I am grasping at straws here.)

-Van Helsing was perfect! The actor had wild gray hair and forehead bumps and a tenor voice that could shatter your heart into a million pieces. He did a great job of having the "weird professor" vibes even though his lines were more coherent and to-the-point than they are in the book. 

-No blood transfusions, sadly, but I see why they cut that part.

-Lucy turning vamp was very well done. I think I should mention at this point that the actors who played Dracula and Lucy are actually married to each other in real life, and they had really crackling chemistry and it was clear in every scene they were together that they were having just the best time. "Life After Life" was my second-favorite song in the play because it's just Dracula sending Lucy out to eat people— and again, both actors were clearly having SO MUCH FUN performing this song together. At the end of the scene I was all pumped up, like, "Yeah Lucy! Go eat some people!!!"

-Intermission. I told my sister this was like the part in Rashomon where the rapist tells the court his point of view and is like, "Oh, she totally wanted it." My sister shook her head at me and chuckled.

-The graveyard/Bloofer Lady scene was genuinely horrifying; Lucy's actress did an AMAZING job of amping up the horror, beginning the scene by cradling a baby and singing it a lullaby, then just CHOMPING down on it, and throwing it down and hissing like an animal when the Crew of Light approached her. Mina and Jonathan were in that scene, too, and even though Mina didn't have any lines, seeing her reacting to it (rushing to grab the child, dodging out of Bloofer!Lucy's snapping jaws) gave the scene a lot of emotional intensity. 

-Both Bloofer!Lucy's death and Renfield's death were directed beautifully; they were both somewhat quiet, almost slow motion, focused not on the violence but on the emotional weight of both their lives ending.

-Jonathan and Arthur, while both being incredibly bland characters, have I think more dialogue in this play than they do in the book. Every time they spoke I was like, :D :D :D! My blorbos!!!

-Throughout Mina's whole song "Please Don't Make Me Love You" (sung, of course, to Dracula) I focused VERY HARD on my friend's amazing acting, her beautiful voice, the way she was playing this with absolute conviction, while in the back of my head I was screaming. Just a primal, Nazgul-like shriek. GIRL WHY (I think my sister was amused by how much I was squirming)

-Van Helsing has a nice little song about his dead wife, saying that it was a vampire that killed her and that's why he's a vampire hunter now. He was also shooting up with a comically large syringe during this song, but sure, yeah, that's fine. Like I said, his voice was SO BEAUTIFUL, so I was entranced. If only he had gotten a chance to find connection and family ties in order to continue that character arc HINT HINT

-Ah, then we get the Blood Baptism scene. Mina sings a song about how she doesn't want to run away (because of that sexy baritone voice I guess) so she invites Dracula into her room, he knocks out Jonathan, and then they make out over Jonathan's body. Le sigh. The funniest part of this scene is that they had her drink from his chest but they didn't use any fake blood, so he just unbuttons his shirt and she buries her face in his boobs, no context. I asked my sister afterward, "What did you think was going on in that scene?" and she said, "I figured she was drinking from his vampire-milk titties."

-Van Helsing and Dracula got an "I will take you down!"-style song that was actually really cool.

-Then, suddenly, out of nowhere, BOOK-CANON MINA SHOWS UP! She was in a wheelchair now (a great directing choice, I thought), and demanded that Van Helsing hypnotize her, insisted on them keeping the information from her so that Dracula can't get to it, makes them all vow to kill her, and figures out where Dracula is going based on the maps. I was like THERE SHE IS! THERE'S MY GIRL! …But unfortunately this characterization makes no sense in the story the musical is actually telling. Why is Mina leading them to him? Why is she taking such pains to make sure Dracula is not warned of their coming? It didn't fit with any of her characterization in the rest of the play (and especially not with the ending), so it felt really cobbled-together and odd.

-Also Jonathan vows to kill her and there's a whole song about how sad he is that he will have to do that. I was gritting my teeth the whole song being like It's a storytelling choice it's a storytelling choice it's a storytelling choice it's a storytelling choice it's a

-Okay. YOU GUYS. YOU GUYS. The song "Deep in the Darkest Night" WAS AMAZING. It's a song by the Crew of Light (and in this version, sung by all six of them, including Mina) about their quest, and how they must be points of light in the darkness. It was SO BEAUTIFUL and SO THEMATICALLY ON POINT and it was EVERYTHING I WANTED from a Dracula musical and it is a CRIME that the whole play was not built around these themes and motifs!! *chewing on the scenery* Also, holy cow, everyone in the cast could sing like nothing else. Full-body chills. Stunning, incredible, showstopping, no notes.

-In one of the hypnotic sessions, Dracula came to stand behind Mina and they sang a duet, a reprise of "Life After Life" (the song for Bloofer!Lucy), and that was an incredibly effective storytelling choice (also their voices just blended so. well. together that even in the songs I hated, I still got chills because their voices were SO DANG BEAUTIFUL TOGETHER). Again, I am haunted by what this play could've been if the Drac/Mina thing was one-sided.

-In this version, Quincey gives Mina his Bowie knife for protection, which I thought was sweet.

-Drac has a big sad-boy song about how he's actually in love with Mina now. BOOHOO MOTHERFUCKER. NO ONE CARES.

-Quincey got killed by trying to stake Dracula and Drac grabbing the stake and shoving it into his stomach. (My sister gasped and squeaked, "No!" when this happened.)

-Meanwhile, Van Helsing and Mina get separated, and Mina has a whole song about how she's made her final decision: she's gonna become a vampire and live with Dracula forever. At this point in the play I was like, Okay, girl, whatever, you do you…

-But then. BUT THEN. *frothing at the mouth*

-(Don Black and Christopher Hampton meet me in the Denny's parking lot I just want to talk)

-Drac's like, "Ooooh no actually I don't want you to be a vampire so you need to kill me now."

-Mina's like, "Nooooo this makes me so sad I have chosen to be a vampire and it is what I truly want!"

-Drac's like "Nobody cares what you want because the authors couldn't care less about your agency as a person"

-Mina's like "nooooooooo i'm so saaaaaad!"

-(Me: *still frothing at the mouth*)

-Finally, weeping, she takes Quincey's knife and places it over his heart.

-And then SHE DOESN'T EVEN FUCKING KILL HIM HE JUST GRABS HER HAND WITH THE KNIFE IN IT AND KILLS HIMSELF

-Like, I am just so mad that Mina doesn't even get the tiniest bit of agency here at the end. She is just blown about by the whims of the men, and at the end none of her narrative choices are respected in any way. A lot of this is, I'm sure, the directing for this particular performance: if I were trying to make this ending a bit more narratively satisfying, I would give Mina a moment where you can see her agreeing with him and deciding to kill him herself. This ending just felt… cheap. It didn't even form a satisfying closing even based on the rules of its own storytelling. It was so ridiculous that I actually had to cover my mouth to keep from laughing. 

-After the show we got to talk to all our friends who were in it and it was easy to sincerely compliment them because they all did an AMAZING job. I feel so honored to be friends with such amazingly talented people!

-We drove home in a lightning storm while blasting Blondie's song "One Way or Another" (my sister said she was thinking of this song all through the Drac/Mina story arc) and singing loudly along. "ONE WAY OR ANOTHER/I'M GONNA FIND YA/I'M GONNA GETCHA GETCHA GETCHA GETCHA!"

-I asked her which two characters she thought I shipped the most and she guessed Jonathan/Quincey. Not a bad guess.

-Got home, rambled to my very tired spouse, curled up in bed, turned to him and said, "I promise to never leave you for some random dude who speaks in my head and says we're soulmates," and he replied, "And I promise to never leave you for three sexy vampire ladies," and if that's not a wedding vow renewal I don't know what is.

-Laid awake for nearly two hours brainstorming a Dracula play (not a musical, I'm not that talented). And, uh… yeah. A script is gonna happen. I've written plenty of plays (and co-directed/co-produced a few times), so it's definitely in my wheelhouse, and my brain will not shut up with ideas. So! *tosses it onto list of creative projects*

----

(P.S. If you reblog, please don't tag this as the Dracula musical because I don't want any fans to be exposed to the hate. Thanks!)

[mrpenguinpants]

Telling genshin boys about Orpheus and Eurydice and asking them if they’d look back

My Faint Magnolia

— He wonders how many times he's heard you tell this story, and how many more he'll force you to recite.

— Dottore / Zandik

White magnolia flowers symbolize purity and perfection. [Masterlist]

I read one Wiki page so don't yell at me if I got anything wrong. Tbh, I don't really like how this fic turned out but it's been sitting in my drafts for years.

"The musician and prophet Orpheus fell in love with the beautiful Eurydice, only for her to die shortly after. Thus, he journeyed into the Underworld to plead with Hades to bring his beloved back. His wish was granted - but on the condition that he must not look back at Eurydice until they were both back in the land of the living. But Orpheus couldn't resist one glance, and Eurydice was lost to him forever."

"Fascinating. The seventh retelling adds to the suspense."

"Boo, you're no fun. Minus ten points," he hears you whine. The sounds of a book being tossed carelessly aside as ink-stained papers filled with formulas slide forward and brush against the sleeves of his arm. All are pushed away to allow you to sprawl your upper body over the desk so you can mope and continue to avoid doing any actual work. He can feel your gaze on him, patiently waiting for him to look up from his notes and give you attention, yet he continues to write making you huff in annoyance.

You're both supposed to be working on your assignments, so he has excellent reason to keep ignoring you to focus on his work. If anything, he should be annoyed at you, and he is, but it's a testament to how much he's come to tolerate you that he doesn't immediately get up and leave. Or deal with you in another, less unsavory way. Instead, he flips back through the pages of his notebook. A list of collected components of spare parts of a vast machine and smaller notes of their possible working principles and manufacturing processes. Diagrams and sketches of their possible construction and engines filled with footnotes and annotations. Not all of them are in his writing. He wouldn't dare use that atrocious shade of yellow that you seem to love so much.

"Can't we do anything else? I'm bored out of my minddd," you stretch the words out, effectively cutting his concentration in half with nothing but the sound of your voice. He can feel his eye twitch and his pencil's wood creaking from the pressure he's slowly exerting onto it. Your voice is muffled, which means you haven't picked yourself off the table yet, probably hunched over with your cheek against the table that will take another hour for you to pry yourself back up again. He can't wait for his future headache with your complaints about back problems, even though you're killing your own spine and his head. The sound of a pencil rolling back and forth fills the silence, and that's the last of his patience. He slams his notebook down, the pencil bouncing and dropping onto the floor, and the clattering of wood causes his frown to etch deeper. He re-opens his notebook to the page of the Khaenri'ahn machines found in Devantaka Mountain. There's an annoying doodle of a Ruin Hunter in the corner mocking him right back.

"Work."

His clipped voice has you quiet down. It's a good thing you have some sense of preservation and know that even though he indulges you frequently, there are only so many distractions he will let slip through. But the resounding sound of a chair scraping against the floor, papers being shuffled, and your footsteps tell him you're equally frustrated. He thinks he hears you mutter "rigid oaf" under your breath as your footsteps grow fainter. The silence should put him at ease, but it only serves to irate him further since you're the one who's causing him trouble when he just wants to work in peace and quiet. The worst thing about this situation is that he knows you'll refuse to talk to him unless he apologizes first for something he hasn't done wrong. But alas.

He lets out a deep sigh that sounds twice his age. Puspa Café should still be open at this time. If he leaves now, he can still catch up to you. With a sweep of the arm, he quickly gathers his papers haphazardly but still slides them into their rightful places between the meticulous sections of his notebook.

"Would you look back?"

He pauses when your voice sounds behind him unexpectedly. You sound a mixture of cheeky and skeptical, but the drumming of your fingertips against the back of his chair tells him that you are genuinely curious about his response. Maybe even a bit nervous to ask him such a ridiculous question too.

"The fatal flaw of Orpheus is he never stopped to consider the psychological cost of Hade's offer. To think "Do not look back" is an impossible sentence to think without simultaneously speaking the opposite. Every time you repeat, "I must not look back," you are forced to say: "Look back." But that is the weakness of the human mind," is the answer he supplies. He thumbs at the edges of his notebook, worn from all the years he's opened it but still in pristine condition. He doesn't like his things to be dirty. It makes his skin crawl.

"What? Are you above the human mind now? So you wouldn't be tempted at all?" you say with a hint of dumbfoundedness. He's sure you think that he won't give you an actual answer.

"No."

His answer is short but firm. He won't look back. He won't be Orpheus and lose his Eurydice so easily to temptation. His finger moves and tips the cover open, papers flipping until they stop in the middle of the book. Frantic scribbles of ink of his research on the rare disease of Elezar. He thumbs the page's corner until it creases.

"Hey, look at me."

The next page is on segments.

"Why won't you look at me."

The final page is on dreams.

""Please look at me Zandik."

He closes the notebook.

"I thought Orpheus couldn't hear Eurdicye."

He hears you laugh at his unempathetic reply. It's a hallow imitation. Then silence. It always ends like this. His mind dangling what he needs most only to take it away, making him question if you are even still there behind him. Just one look. Just one look to confirm what's behind him but he won't. He won't be a fool like Orpheus. Not until he's finished. So he does what he always has, removes any option he hates, and creates his own means.

+

He blinks awake slowly. The white ceiling of his laboratory stares at him back and the first thing his mind registers is that it's cold. His hand automatically moves to his side only to meet air. That's right, you're not here anymore. You haven't been here for years. The manifestation of the withering caused dark hardened scales to grow across your limbs. Slowly numbing the affected areas until you couldn't walk anymore, which progressed into fatigue and progressive nerve damage. Your last days were spent asleep in a coma surrounded by as many Nilotpala Lotuses as he could find. He closes his eyes again, but the sound of the heavy steel door grates against his nerves before he has the time to truly relax.

"You know you'll never succeed. You know why. Even if this one doesn't die, it won't be the same."

The voice isn't right. Another failure.

Dottore lifts his head to see your segment standing in front of him. That's correct. He can already see the beginnings of scales on the segment's arms. It's funny. He is capable of creating physical carbon copy segments of himself from different stages of his life and yet you, the outlier, it's never the same. A body is made, and a piece of his memories of you acts as the brain, but it's never the same. He knows why. It's because his memories of you are dying. His dreams are getting shorter, and fuzzier around the edges. He used to dream of seeing you, holding you, and he knows the next time he dreams of you, he may not hear your voice anymore. His own segment thoughts echo in his mind. Don't you think this is a waste of materials and time? It's time to give up. They don't understand, they can't dream.

He won't look back because he knows that as soon as he does, he will never dream of you again. Even if the next dream takes away your voice, the next takes away your presence, until he's left with a void of nothing. Even then, he won't look back. He has only dreamed of you every single night, regardless of anything. These are the only things he has left of you. Everything else was taken, stolen, or burnt. He isn't sure if the person he's constantly dreaming of now is actually you or a figment of his imagination that's begging to be free. But he won't let you go.

My doleful aria, tell me that story again tonight.

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s3 episode 6 thoughts

it’s been an exhausting day. work was awful. i was brave and didn’t cry whilst there. and for that, i deserve this episode even more than usual. 

oooooh it’s an internet episode!!!! an episode about an internet killer!!! that probably felt new and scary back then!!! i’m excited to see something i assume as naturally dangerous as hitchhiking to be seen as scary and new. let us jump in, and enjoy the adventures of our agents, and numb ourselves to the hardship of the outside world.

these two people are in a car. he is smooth talking her. oh… they only waited three months to meet in person after talking online. hmm… is that speedy or not? i guess that depends on who you ask. for me, i’m gonna say speedy. because they didn’t even see each other’s faces before this.

he has mysterious scars on his neck. yeah, i noticed that very conspicuous camera panning. the music is very ominous. and now they’re kissing. 

OH??? THERE IS A STICKY FLUID. IN HER MOUTH. an unusual one. not whatever you were thinking. what the hell… was that man some kind of insect????? there was real goop in there, man. eughhh it was very gross. 

cop is approaching the car next day. and she is like. jelly? as in, covered in gel. the gelatin monster has struck and apparently he’s surfing the net. 

(trust when i say i’m not a gelatin monster. or don’t trust. perhaps skepticism is better)

okay, investigation time. this guy shakes hands with mulder and entirely ignores scully. tells me a lot about his character very quickly. mulder has also got some more conventional looking shades this time around. perhaps his other ones were just not keeping the sun out like he had hoped for.

body reveal! so it seems that the goop has um. melted her skin? EUGH. mulder swabs the goop. it’s just a prop, i tell myself to avoid gagging. a prop with excellent construction that was very carefully crafted. shoutout prop team as always. 

detective looks real freaked out by the goop. yeah he’s not special in that regard.

mulder says he has heard of similar killings from women placing ads in the paper! i don’t want them to separate though, as he announce he’s going on an investigation while she does an autopsy. c’mon, can’t we do some teamwork in the same room?

scully looks disgusted at the bloody goop in her hand. this is appearing to be a universal sentiment.

the goop man is at the computer typing to another woman. and smiling mischievously. we learn, from a woman dropping a key off at his door, that his name is mr. incanto, and she thinks that since he types and gets a lot of packages, he must be a writer or an editor. and she wants him to read her poems. wow. leaping to conclusions here. i admire it. it’s clear she’s flirting with him, and the idea of a person you’re attracted to reading your poems is a wild one for me to entertain. personally i would rather explode crazy style.

scully is scrubbed up <3 and she is so cute <3 i don’t mean this in a condescending way… she just looks cute in a fully “i respect her capabilities” kind of way. don’t worry. but this man is not respecting her and is shocked she’s a doctor. rude as hell… could never be me.

he says he’s old fashioned. umm okay if you want to be all manly about it how about you cut up the goop body yourself… oh that’s right you can’t. because you don’t have the skill set. or even any skill sets, as far as i can tell.

he says this is effecting her judgement because the victim is a woman and he isn’t being sexist. IF YOU DON’T SHUT YOUR MOUTH MAN…. she is so patient even when she ought to rip his heart from his chest with her teeth

she’s making a face when he leaves like she really IS thinking about doing some heart ripping and then she gets into the recording mode. and the body has increased in goopiness. in fact. there is only a skeleton now and a LOT of liquid. oh… 

mulder is asking about the murder victim, and he’s sitting on a very 90’s printed couch, and yeah he looks good. don’t worry about it. he’s asking the victim’s roommate what chat room they met in. now personally, if i was talking to people on a chat room, i would not be telling my roommate the names of said chat rooms, but maybe it was different vibe wise at that time. imagine if my roommate knew i ran a blog like this. i couldn’t picture such a thing. and the victim would READ her roommate the letters???!? OH I CANNOT IMAGINE SUCH A THING!!!!

he uses the roommate’s house phone to call scully, who is dealing with a very wet skeleton. but that’s so funny to me. he wanted to use someone else’s phone to call her. maybe his phone still hadn’t been replaced since that kid melted it in episode 3.

he’s putting out a localized online warning… is that a thing? wow. you learn so much on this television program.

“in life, bones have the tensile strength of forged iron”, says scully. and i’m giggling. n kicking my feet.

ohhh the bone is SQUISHY. it is not supposed to be this way. but it did look quite satisfying. again, props team, shoutout.

oh tea… the body fat wasn’t there!!! it disappeared. scully is like, why would he do that, steal a victim’s fat. and i would love to know the same thing. 

another woman is preparing to meet with the goop monster. oh, but someone is telling her there was a warning SPECIFICALLY for woman in cleveland to not go meet people online! but she’s like nooo i’m a good judge of character. LIES LIES LIES. she’s only been talking to him for a MONTH???? HOW CAN YOU JUDGE A CHARACTER IN A MONTH?

the killer’s at a fancy restaurant looking place with a bouquet of flowers and he’s checking his watch. oh and he dumps the flowers!!! queen of self preservation saved herself tonight by standing him up??? yes, it appears this is the case!! 

now there are a bunch of ladies on the side of the road. i have only seen this happen in this show and never in real life, but maybe i'm not looking in the right direction. NO! he sees a woman and smiles. they go to a back alley… no!! but she won’t kiss him. okay, i think, she has a chance. alas. i was wrong. so he attacks. OH AND HE IS SLURPING ON HER BODY???? another woman finds her goop-ified. 

they’re at the scene and the detective is being awful (shocker!) but mulder hands over some of the letters from the killer, and notes that they contain letters from 16th century italian poems. which tells me he is familiar with 16th century italian poems. ohhhhhhhhhh. blushing a lil. 

focus. so the fellow would have access to niche italian poems, is what we are learning here. likely a college professor, or a grad student, or something along those lines.

the killer should also have a wound pattern, they note, because the woman scratched him very well.

and BLEGHHHH, cut to his place, where he’s cutting his wound??? like straight up trimming it like it’s fabric or something. nasty nasty nasty nasty!!!

someone is bringing him a package. and the woman who asked to show him her poems asks him to dinner?!?!?! but he says he’s busy. the teenage daughter reads him for filth. he’s creepy and smells weird. delivered by a girl who meant every word she said.

scully is posing impeccably, looking as someone types on a computer. it was formidable.

mulder comes by with some results and he sort of. scoops her out of the room. 😳

theory time in the hallway! hallway theory time!! always one of my favorite times. “okay, it’s not yet the finely detailed insanity that you’ve come to expect from me” <- at least he’s self aware 

FAT SUCKING VAMPIRE LET’S GOOOO. such a preposterous creature. i have to admire it.

there are examples of this in nature, right? “i don’t know too many scorpions who surf the internet” scully, you just offended the coolest scorpion alive somewhere out there. but they couldn’t hear you so it’s okay. just don’t ever say that again…

scully wants to brief the people involved in the case and the detective is again being weird. mulder recognizes this. i can see it.

okay, so the killer has some more niche italian poetry. and an email from the woman who saved herself by not showing up! nooo, i thought she had escaped!

knock at the door. it’s scully. but not at the door of the right guy!! the detective is at the door of the right guy!!! 

mulder makes some remark about not being a good salesman because no one answered the door. and yeah i giggled. but she cuts him off with the fact the detective hasn’t answered his calls or returned… has he been gooped?!

now the killer is out with the woman who previously saved herself. and she sees his skin. and she offers to drive him home!!! noooo ellen :( don’t fall for his tricks and lies

the poetry woman is at his door. she puts a HUGE thing of poems under his door. 

but back in the car he is about to smooch ellen. somehow poetry lady let herself into his room??? and a bunch of flies are around. 

(we later learn she was the housekeeper or landlord or something so yeah. she would have access to the keys. but at the time i was baffled)

goop monster and ellen don’t smooch because he sees the poem lady is in his room!!! and the detective is in the tub!!! and he walks in right as she sees this!!! oh no. violence ensues…

her daughter comes to the door. and asks where her mom is. and he GRABS her weird as hell. and says he’s leaving.

mulder is sitting on a table again because he’s weird. but the girl calls the police!!! and they found her mom’s body and the detective's. the little girl asks scully why someone would do this and she says she doesn’t know… STOP I’LL SOB

okay, this dude’s name is virgil and there are no records of him existing. virgil. damn. maybe he’s FROM 16th century italy, because that’s a 16th century sounding name. are there any italian legends of fat sucking vampires? can’t say i’m very familiar with their lore 

they’re trying to get into his computer and all the files were deleted. ohhh they have floppy disks!!! i love floppy disks 💾

the killer went to ellen’s place?!!?!? and she locks the door. ellen please pull out a glock at this time. 

scully sent out a warning to everyone in proximity. and three of them were already missing!!!! that is evil :(

and ellen got the email but he’s in the room. and he starts attacking… oh lord, just as the agents roll up. 

they get in formation and then kick down her door and WHEW they way they work as a team… i’m eating it up. sweeping the rooms. guns cocked. 

ellen is under some sheets and coated in goop whilst mulder does parkour to go and find this guy. GO GO MULDER RUN RUN!!! his voice is all growly while he holds a shadowy figure at gunpoint, but he only runs into a teenager. no! poor kid :(

NOOO… THE KILLER WAS HIDING IN THE BATHROOM AND SCULLY WAS GOING IN THERE TO GET SOME STUFF TO TAKE CARE OF ELLEN!! he smashed her head in the mirror and he starts to goop her until ellen does in fact roll up with a glock. and shoots him in the chest. YES ELLEN I KNEW YOU HAD IT IN YOU <3

so they have him in custody now and his skin is suuuuuuper dry and peeling and nasty. and scully asks what the hell he was doing and he goes on about stuff blah blah blah and then he quotes some italian and she gets freaked and dips. and we end with a hannibal-esque shot of his evil peeling nasty face. and some contemplative music.

so. that was gross.

grossness established. i once again kind of enjoyed this episode. like was i gagging, and not in the good way? yeah i was. but again with the suspense. i think the plot could be absolutely ridiculous- like an actual fat vampire- and if the plot and pacing are the right tempo, i’ll find myself fully absorbed into it. 

but i can’t help but feel that i’m missing something. the italian seemed too purposeful. is there some medieval tale of a fat vampire? i’m being so serious btw like actually. is that a reference that flew over my head? is it in dante’s inferno or something? i love history but middle ages europe always puts me to sleep so i can’t say i’m familiar with the literature or tropes beyond what i learned in art history class. where we never covered ANY sort of vampire. just a lot of baby jesus and also mary and sometimes adult jesus. 

hmm. so i’m wondering here what that was about. and yeah, i could google it. but again, more fun when you tell me things.

i mean, if it was something they just made up for fun, i get that too. like earlier we had that evil mermaid baby that lived in the waterways. and we had that evil twin that looked like the fiji mermaid. and eugene tooms the lizard man. the seriousness with which the situation is played enhances the campy angle when you ponder it.

overall, it was interesting to see a world where the internet was new and fresh and scary. now it’s scary in mostly familiar ways. but it was not always this way! and while i am a little confused on the concept of the episode itself- who exactly our monster of the week was, if he even WAS a monster of traditional sort of means- i won’t lie, the episode had me invested. there were also moral questions raised about how someone could do something so evil, specifically in relation to scully’s character, which probably speaks to her biggest fear being that anyone could pose a threat, which i think i’ll contemplate at another time, because it is fascinating, especially when you consider… i think it’s s2 episode 13? where the narrative also really dives into this question. how can people do evil things, and how can good people cope with knowing that it’s impossible to know who is capable of doing terrible things?

after a hard day at work in which a million things went sideways, it does feel nice to watch my pals mulder and scully do some sleuthing, no matter the situation in which they find themselves.

the goopsterrrrrrrr